#That is...that is some CONFIDENCE right there. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dykeforhire · 2 days ago

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Taste for A Favor | E.P.

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x afab!reader

Summary: Emily opens up to you about her feelings regarding sex after menopause… you decide to help her out.

Tags: (18+) smut (oral, face!fucking, dirty!talk, body worship, scissoring, fingering), bit of an age-gap, struggles with self-confidence.

Word count: 12.6k

masterlist || read on ao3

a/n: the LONG AWAITED meno fic is finally here milf lovers… enjoy !! this is so unrealistic... but hey, its porn.

…

After being at the BAU for so long, you’ve grown quite a bond with the team. You consider Penelope, JJ, and Tara to be some of your closest friends, inside and outside of work, and Luke—the brother you never had. Rossi is practically a father to everyone, so of course, you feel the same.

And then there is Emily.

The infamous Emily Prentiss, so very poised and always effortlessly catching the attention of everyone around her.

You aren’t quite sure where the relationship between the two of you lies.

You’d say good friends, but then again, there has always been that strange static energy when it comes to you and her. Not to mention, the way your breath always seems to catch in your throat whenever Emily looks at you, or the way you’ve always been drawn to the way her perfume lingers in the air even after she leaves the room.

Technically, it’s a crush, which is somewhat embarrassing to say at your grown age, but also embarrassingly true.

She is the older, wickedly attractive, silver-vixen of a boss that romance novels preach about. And you just so happen to be an absolute sucker for the taboo, and for her.

That being said, it’s sort of a fairytale in the making as to how you ended up in Emily’s upscale apartment in the district, after a long and stressful day of paperwork and meetings at Quantico. It feels as though it was by some divine intervention that out of all the women on the team, you were the only one available for an impromptu ‘girls night’.

When you arrived at her doorstep, Emily was already out there waiting, sitting comfortably on her stoop, a half-smoked cigarette betwixt her fingers.

She had changed clothes since she left the office earlier in the evening, trading her sleek button-down blouse and tailored slacks for a pair of black sweatpants and a pullover sweater, the neckline cut wide enough for it to fall off one shoulder.

The warm light of the street lamps caught on her skin, making the faint protrusions of her collarbones and the ball of her shoulder glow.

Her hair was another thing.

The thick silver locks were thrown up into a messy knot at the back of her head, a few loose white strands from her crown and temples framing her face.

She looked effortless, remarkably domestic. It was then that you found domesticity to be your favourite look on her.

“Hey! I’m so glad you could make it. All the others bailed, haha.” She reached out with her free hand, greeting you with a pat to the bicep.

“So I see… we’ve never gotten a chance to hang out alone, so… I’m sure it’ll be a good time.” You chuckled nervously, shifting the bag of takeout from one hand to the other.

She led you up the stairs with a smile, stamping her cigarette on the stone wall and tossing it behind her.

You never thought climbing a single flight of stairs could be so tolling until you were stuck climbing behind her.

Her scent wafted into your senses with each step, that expensive French perfume and the lingering cigarette smoke in her hair. You felt like you were suffocating in the most brilliant of ways.

You couldn’t get enough.

Not to mention the way her hips swayed beneath the loose fabric of her sweats, the cotton clinging to her body in all the right places.

You stood behind her as she unlocked her front door, pretending not to stare at her exposed shoulder blade or the scandalous curve of her neck and jaw.

Stepping inside, you were met with the scent of earthy candles, and something very uniquely Emily.

“Here, I'll take that from you…” She placed her keys on the foyer table and spun to face you, taking the bag from your hand. “You go settle in, I’ll plate this up.”

“Sounds good.” You gave her a tight but friendly smile, adjusting the hem of your shirt nervously.

You watched her float into the kitchen mindlessly, sighing to yourself in somewhat disbelief that you were spending alone time with the object of your most recent romantic desires.

…

Emily returns to the living room with two plates balanced in one hand, a bottle of white, and two wine glasses in the other.

“Thank you, thank you.” You take the plates from her and set them down on the table in front of the couch.

She drops down beside you with a tired groan, the knot of her hair bouncing animatedly.

“Thank god for wine and you, for the take-out.” She grins, setting the glasses down and pouring a healthy amount in each.

“Cheers to that…” you laugh, tilting the glass toward her before taking a long sip.

“So…” Emily starts, taking a bite of her food. “What have you been up to lately… when the BAU isn’t holding you hostage?”

“Ahh, the age-old question…” You chuckle, picking at your food before gathering it onto your fork. “Nothing much, I usually just laze around in my spare time or enjoy some retail therapy.” You shovel the food into your mouth.

“I get it, nights like this are a rare commodity.” She sets the plate on her lap and reaches towards the side table. “Wanna put on a movie or a show? What’s good on TV lately?”

She hands you the TV remote, which you take carefully, flicking the TV on and opening one of her various streaming services.

“Hmm, how about… here, this’ll do.” You decide on some home renovation series you’d binged recently, a mix of hoarder house and fixer-uppers.

Setting the remote down, you start eating again, only half paying attention to what is on the screen.

Reaching for your wine glass, you take a quick glance at Emily. Your heart almost stops dead in your chest when you see the angular black frames resting on the bridge of her nose.

You’d never seen her in glasses before, so it’s understandable why one would be surprised—but you were rendered speechless for a whole other reason.

She looks undeniably sexy wearing glasses, especially paired with the messy hair and lounge clothes.

“You wear glasses?” You ask, voice wavering slightly.

“Oh yeah, have for years now.” She rattles off as if the information isn’t turning your insides to mush. “I wear contacts at the office, just makes it easier.” She pushes the frames up a bit as they’ve slipped down while she’s been eating.

You watch the way her throat bobs as she swallows, the way her tendons tighten and release.

“You should wear them more often, they look nice, fitting.” You shake yourself out of your filthy thoughts, downing the remainder of the wine in your glass.

“Really?” She turns to you, her brow arched curiously. “I think I look like a dweeb.”

“Hey… dweebs are hot.” You wave your hand, nonchalance dripping from the statement as you try your hardest not to let your voice crack.

“If you say so…” she laughs softly, nudging your arm with her knuckles.

Emily pulls her bottom lip between her teeth as she focuses back on the TV, and you can help but watch. You can see how her tongue glides over her lips, collecting crumbs of misplaced food, and how the muscles of her jaw clench as she chews.

Alright…

You settle back into a comfortable silence after that. After finishing up your food, you reach over to place the empty plate on the table—Emily catches your wrist before you can.

“I’ll take that.” She gives you a soft squeeze, smiling as she grabs the plate from your hand.

“Thanks…”

As she wanders off into the kitchen, you take a moment to calm your nerves. Despite nearing your forties, attractive older women still maintain the ability to make you behave like a fool as if you’re sixteen years old.

Emily, plopping back onto the couch, pulls your attention back to reality. She smiles at you crookedly as she gets comfortable, folding one of her legs beneath her bottom.

“Hey, I never asked how you’re doing? What have you been up to?” There’s a slight gravel in your voice as you speak, and you take a sip of wine to soothe it.

Emily sighs as she takes in your question, which pulls a curious arc to your brow.

“Nothing good, huh?” You set the glass down, shifting on the cushion to face her.

“No, it’s just… I don’t know, when you get to this stage in life, I’m sure you’ll understand much more.” She pauses, the words arranging in her mind.

“Understand what? I’m not that far behind you, y’know?” you chuckle, your hand reaching out to squeeze her shoulder, urging her to speak further.

“Yeah, yeah…” she scratches at the back of her neck, making a crooked face. “It’s just—ugh, I want to be getting out more. But this job, and life… it’s just so complicated.”

“I get that. Would you rather have gone to the bar tonight? We can totally still go out—”

“No, no… I wanted to stay in tonight.” Emily cuts you off. “I guess I mean it in more of the dating aspect.”

Oh.

Emily wants to start dating again…

“So you want to start dating? I’m sure that’s no issue for you, Emily. We’re in DC… there’s apps, there’s work events.” You attempt to help assure her, but you can’t deny the tiny pang of jealousy in your belly.

“I know, but…” Emily groans, taking a long sip of her wine. “It’s just hard… putting myself out there. Post-menopausal women aren’t really a hot commodity nowadays…”

You can help but scoff at the ridiculous statement, eyeing her incredulously.

“You haven’t been on the Internet recently, have you? Because I can assure you, Emily… they most certainly are.” You chuckle, leaning back against the armrest behind you.

“Okay, but it’s not just that—” she pauses, shaking her head a bit in thought. She pushes her glasses atop her head, her dark eyes a bit watery. “I want someone who understands what it’s like. To be a woman of a certain age.”

“Okay?” You urge her on, angling your head a bit closer. “So you want someone who’ll be able to cater to your needs.”

Your heart skips a few beats as the topic of conversation settles into place. Sex. Or more specifically, Emily Prentiss’s sexual needs.

“I started using those estrogen patches to help with the y'know—dryness, hot flashes, and whatever...” Emily motions downwards with her hands, vaguely. “And it’s been working well for me; my body feels more mine than it has in years. But, I’ve still been struggling with achieving… release, I guess you could say—or at the very least, having a pleasurable experience regardless of if I finish or not.”

Emily looks slightly defeated as she slumps against the cushions of her couch, the liquid in her glass swirling idly.

“Well, what do you think would get you where you wanna be?” You ask, resting your elbow on the back of the couch and your temple against your knuckles.

“I don’t know… maybe if someone else does the touching, it would feel better.” Emily sighs. “But I haven’t really had time to find dates, let alone find someone who’d even be interested in a woman like me…”

The comment makes you stir a bit; the fact that a woman as beautiful as Emily thinks that anyone would pass up on a chance to go out with her, let alone sleep with her, is rather bizarre in your mind.

Matter of fact, if given the chance, you’d do it in a heartbeat.

“Oh come on…” You swat at the older woman's thigh. “I bet you’ve got hoards falling at your feet. You’re fucking stunning.”

“Oh, you’re just saying that…” Emily scoffs.

“Puh-lease, Emily… you have no idea.” You roll your eyes, hand lingering a little too long near her leg.

“Oh? And what is that supposed to mean?” Emily looks at you curiously, her brow arched high.

“All I’m sayin’ is, if you gave me a chance… psh” You trail off, waving your hand in the air shamelessly, averting your eyes from her gaze.

She studies your face for a moment, a tiny smirk crooked at the corner of her mouth. The wine has brought a faint red glow to her cheeks, and the few stray hairs that’ve slipped loose from their hold under the glasses, framing her face gracefully.

“So you’re saying that given the opportunity, you—my agent—might I remind you, would sleep with me?” Her smile grows as she asks the question, the flush spreading down to her chest.

“Absolutely.” You deadpan, internally grateful for the third glass of wine in your system for a bit of liquid courage.

The lines at the corners of her eyes crinkle as her smile grows to its full capacity, the dim candlelight flickering across her features.

“Really?” Her brow worries, a line creasing through her t-zone. “You don’t think I’m too old and withered?” Emily chuckles, brushing a hair away from her lip.

“I think you’re everything.” Your gaze fixes on her, maintaining eye contact. The deep brown of her irises sparkles like the night sky as she stares back at you, a faint glistening of tears peeking over her waterline.

“God, you’re so young…” she chuckles, placing the wine glass on the side table. “I’m sure you have better things to do than… me.”

You laugh softly in return, mirroring her position and placing your glass on the table. Shifting closer to her, your knee presses into the side of her thigh.

“I’m not that young, and you are most certainly very high on my to-do list.” You murmur, watching the way Emily reacts. You reach a hand out, knuckles brushing along the top of her thigh.

Emily’s breath hitches slightly at the contact, the muscle tensing below the fabric of her sweatpants.

“Y/n…” she whispers, her chest rising unsteadily.

“Emily…” you whisper back, matching her empathetic tone.

“You’re sure? About wanting that, I mean.” Emily looks at you, her lashes fluttering shyly.

You smile at her, reaching up to brush your fingers along the curve of her jaw.

“I’m gonna be very honest with you right now, Emily…” Your thumb traces the swell of her chin, the underside of her lip. “I’ve thought about getting my hands on you since I first transferred onto the team.”

“Oh, m-really!?” Emily sighs almost in disbelief, as her eyes traverse your face rabidly, taking in the details.

“Yes.” You breathe out, leaning in close enough to smell the lingering wine on her lips and laundry detergent on her clothes. “And what about you, hm? Is that, or—am I, something you’d be interested in?”

Emily silences, her gaze noticeably falling to your lips. You part them subconsciously, a hand cupping her cheek as you slowly lean in, your heart thumping wildly in your chest.

“Yeah… I’m very interested right now.” Her eyes flick up to yours one last time before she sinks fully into you, her soft lips pressing against yours in an almost feather-light kiss.

You pause for a moment, letting her take a breath, letting her relax.

When her palms land on your hips, you move forward, pressing your mouths together harder and deepening the kiss. Emily hums softly as your fingers curl around the back of her head—the vibrations reverberating against your teeth.

You let her take the lead, her tongue darting out and dragging across your bottom lip teasingly, before curling into your mouth. You suck on it gently before releasing and re-attaching your mouths in a passionate onslaught.

Emily sucks in a sharp breath as you nip at her bottom lip, your free hand gripping at her thigh. She pulls back and rests her forehead against yours, her breathing quick and labored against your lips.

“Jesus…” Emily pants, her thumb drawing circles against your abdomen through the fabric of your shirt.

“I hope that was a good ‘Jesus’…” you chuckle, scratching at her scalp with blunt fingernails.

“It was a good ‘Jesus’, trust me.” The silver-haired woman laughs. “That was very, very nice.”

“Just nice?” You question sarcastically, leaning against the back of the couch to look at her properly. Emily scoffs and rolls her eyes, her fingers tracing the hem of your top.

Your hand slips from her hair and reaches for the glasses atop her head, pulling them from her tresses and tossing them onto the table next to her wine glass.

“Hey! Those were expensive.” Emily feigns concern, as if she hasn’t got about ten other pairs lying around as well as a hefty amount of cash stashed away in her savings.

“I’ll get you a new pair…” You mumble, leaning in to kiss her again. Emily whimpers softly, her hand clutching at your waist to pull you closer.

It’s a bit sloppier as you take the reins this time, your tongue rolling languidly into her mouth and tangling with hers. Your teeth scraping at her bottom lip, fingers resting on the curve of her shoulder as your body rolls with the momentum of the kiss.

The skin that peeks out from the wide collar of her sweater is hot to the touch, soft and smooth against the pads of your fingers.

Trailing up the side of her neck, your fingers dance over the veins and tendons that dance with the motions of her jaw, protruding ever so slightly at the exertion. The tip of her nose rubs against your cheek as she tilts, opening her mouth and letting you lick inside—the essence of wine and leftover cigarette sinking into your tastebuds.

Scooting closer, you raise your leg and settle it atop hers, overheated bodies pressing into each other.

Emily hums, and her hand slips down to rest on the muscle of your thigh, squeezing. Your hips lurch forward at the pressure, a twinge of arousal surging through you.

You pull back from the kiss to catch your breath, both hands clutching at the base of her skull.

“Can I touch you?” You murmur, inhaling sharply through your nose. “Do you want me to touch you?”

“Yeah…” Emily exhales, her other hand clutching at your shoulder blade from under your arm. “Please, touch me.”

You dive back in with a nod, kissing her hard but slow. Taking your time in savouring the way your tastes mingle, the way she feels.

One hand leaves her neck, trailing lower. You memorize the dips and curves of her chest through the fabric of her sweater, feeling along her collar bones, her ribs, the curve of her breast—but not where she wants you most just yet.

When you reach her stomach, you pull back just enough to watch her expression, savoring the way her breath hitches when your fingers dip under the hem of her top and press against her soft belly.

“You’ve got cold hands…” Emily shudders, the muscles of her stomach flinching.

“I’m sure you’ll warm them right up.”

Emily’s eyes flick open and lock with yours momentarily. And with a quiet moan and furrowed brows, she leans in again—sucking at your bottom lip harshly before licking over it and kissing you properly.

Your hand travels further across the expanse of her abdomen as she kisses you deeply, tracing the curve of her lower belly and over the faint ripples of muscle below her diaphragm.

Emily freezes when your thumb brushes against the aged ridges of the scar jaggedly carved into the left side of her abdomen. You know exactly what it is, everyone knows.

The age-old tale of when Emily Prentiss died at the hands of Ian Doyle, and somehow miraculously survived.

You feel the shift in her demeanor as you press fully against it, fingertips tracing the faint ridges where sutures once lay.

“Is this okay?” You whisper against her lips, pressing a soft peck to the corner of her mouth.

“I-yeah. Yes. It’s okay.” She stutters, her thoughts seemingly jumbled. “Just don’t linger too long, okay?”

“Okay.” You smile gently. “You’re beautiful, Emily… so beautiful.” You drag your fingers away from the old wound, tracing lower along the arch of her hip bones.

Emily whimpers as you kiss her gently, lips just barely pressing against hers.

The hand that still rests on the side of Emily’s neck reaches up and pulls the tie from her hair, the thick silver locks cascading down her shoulders and back.

The strands tickle your face as you move to tuck them away, fingertips brushing over her cheekbone.

“I love your hair… grey looks sooo sexy on you.” You murmur between chaste kisses, your hands flexing against her waist.

“Yeah?” She pants breathlessly, her hand squeezing your bicep as the tension seems to thicken between the two of you.

“Yeah…” You break away from her mouth, eyes flicking open and locking with hers before you shift lower, planting kisses along her jaw and down her neck.

The warm, aged skin is soft and pliable beneath your lips as you suckle at her pulse point, eliciting a tiny gasp from her throat. Your teeth graze the flesh as you move lower, using the hand in her hair to lift her chin, giving yourself more access.

“That feels good.” Emily sighs, her body slowly leaning further into the armrest of the couch. You let out a low hum, nipping at the underside of her jaw as you press her back fully against the cushion.

Emily’s arches into your touch as the hand beneath her shirt trails higher, palm flat against the curve of her ribcage. Your thumb glides over the underwire of her bra teasingly, pulling a tiny gasp from the older woman.

“Can I?” You whisper against her lips, her quick breaths fanning across your face with the closeness.

“Yes.” Emily exhales, nodding eagerly as your fingers trace the padding of the cup.

You palm a full breast, and Emily moans—her hands pawing at you through your clothes. You can feel the faint outline of her nipple as you squeeze, hardening with each groping touch.

With a desperate groan, you shift on top of her, your legs bracketing her thighs. Emily looks up at you with drooping eyelids, her hands moving to rest on each side of your waist—fingertips prodding into your flesh.

“And this? Okay?” You ask quietly, dipping down to nuzzle at her cheek.

“Yeah… keep going, please.” She squeezes your hips gently, her chest pushing into your touch.

You smile at her eagerness, cupping her breasts with both hands now. The silken fabric is warm to the touch, its smoothness pairing well with Emily’s soft skin.

You lean down to kiss her again, lips meeting in a desperate mess of teeth and tongue. Emily’s breathing is shaky and shallow as you scrape your nails over the padding, teasing her covered nipples.

Emily pulls away suddenly, the movement so rushed it almost knocks you off her lap altogether. Her arms clamber at her own back as she shakily reaches under the sweater, unclasping her bra and pulling her arms through the sleeves.

You can’t help but smile amusedly at the older woman as she struggles to free herself from the straps, wriggling beneath the thick fabric as if it were a straitjacket.

“Got it?” You chuckle, quirking a brow.

“Mhm… just a second.” Emily chokes out, her arms untangling and slipping back through the sleeves—one hand holding a simple grey bra.

She tosses it across the room before returning her attention to you, smiling and shrugging in a way that makes your heart skip a beat before lurching forward, reconnecting your lips in a fiery, passionate kiss.

A muffled moan slips into her mouth with the force of it, your hand grasping at her waist.

Using your free hand to stabilize yourself on the back of the couch, you press forward, righting yourself on her lap. Your hips rock in tandem with the kiss, rolling subtly over the meat of her thighs.

Emily hums, clutching at the sides of your face as your hands slip beneath her sweater again. Her skin is practically boiling, a hot flush spreading from her cheeks down to her chest.

You run your fingers up her flanks, tickling at her ribs before tracing your thumbs along the underside of her breasts. Emily shivers as you tease the sensitive skin, her nails digging into your neck ever-so-slightly.

Her nipples are fully peaked when you finally brush over them, her areolas puckered. The thought of her being so affected from a simple makeout session sends a sharp twinge of arousal straight through you, compelling your hips to grind harder into her lap.

Emily pulls back with a hiss as you squeeze at her bare breasts, pinching her nipples between your index and middle fingers. You watch attentively, studying her reactions as if you were scanning them into your brain.

You think for a moment that a memory as beautiful as this deserves to be kept close and sacred for all eternity.

Urging yourself on, you crane down and kiss along her exposed throat, nipping at the veins pulsing just below the surface. Emily’s hums, her svelte fingers tangling at your nape as you drag your tongue over her pulse point.

Tugging on your hair, Emily pulls your mouth back to hers. The kiss she plants on you is wantonly needy, the way her tongue drags across your lips before her teeth bite into it drives you practically up the wall.

Sliding halfway off her lap again, you drag your nails over her breasts and down her abdomen. The way her muscles jump and twitch below the skin fascinates you.

Looping an arm around her lower back, you tug her side against the front of your body. Emily squeaks in response, her torso twisting near unnaturally to keep your mouths connected.

Your hand runs flat over her pelvis and down to her thigh, squeezing at her knee before sharply scraping back up, your callouses catching on the worn fabric of her sweatpants.

Her hips cant forward as you tease at the hem, fingertips brushing over the skin of her belly.

“Please…” Emily whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to your upper lip and then the bottom.

“Please, what?” You murmur, drawing teasing circles around her belly button. “I need you to tell me exactly what you need, Emily. I want this to be perfect for you.”

“God, these are not the type of orders I’m used to giving…” she laughs breathily, tucking her face into your neck. “Just touch me… I’ll let you know if something needs to change.”

“Okay.” You press a kiss to her temple.

Emily inhales deep and shakily, her lips brushing against your collarbone.

Squeezing her hip, you slowly let your fingers dip beneath the waistband. Immediately, you can feel the damp heat of her sex.

“Oh god…” Emily sighs, spreading her legs further to accommodate you.

“So warm… I take it I’m doing well so far?” You quip, earning yourself a sharp bite to the side of your neck, most definitely leaving a mark.

“I’ll take that as a yes…” you grumble, cupping her pussy through her thin cotton panties.

Emily whines, pushing her hips into your palm to gain more pressure, only for you to pull away. You chuckle lowly as she lets out a needy plea, her hands still clutching desperately at the back of your head.

“I’m taking my time with you, be patient.” You murmur into her ear, breathing in the scent of her hair.

Emily stays silent as you slip your hand back into her pants, fingers trailing down her inner thighs before teasing the edge of her gusset. She sucks in a shuddered breath at the light touch, her thighs spreading impossible wider.

When you finally slip past the hem of her panties, the pads of your fingers immediately come into contact with the wiry curls between her legs.

“Sorry…” Emily mutters shyly against your neck, her face tucked just below your jaw. “If I had any idea this was gonna happen, I would’ve shaved.”

“Don’t worry about it…” You rake your fingers through the hair and press a gentle kiss to the bit of shoulder peeking out from the loose collar of her oversized sweater. “I’m a big girl… I like it.”

Emily shivers in your grasp, her hips twitching—the pressure of your palm seemingly doing wonders in working her up. Using just your middle finger, you slip lower and let it press between her folds, finding her warm and wetter than you thought she’d be.

“You’re wet…” you mumble against her shoulder, licking a broad stripe up the side of her neck as your finger draws teasingly along her slit.

“Yeah…” Emily gasps, her hips rutting against your hand. “I told you the hormones were working.”

“God, you’re so hot.” You groan, gathering some arousal and dragging it up to her clit, tracing light circles around it.

“Hm-fuck…” she whines, her muscles tensing and fingernails digging almost painfully into your scalp.

“Feel good?” You let your head rest against hers, your lips brushing at the shell of her ear.

Emily makes various whiny and illegible noises before she finally responds, her stomach clenching in concentration.

“Yeah, it’s good…” she pants, choking in her breath. “Just keep the touches light, more sensitive that way.”

“Okay…” you press a kiss to her cheek, continuing your slow, teasing strokes against her clit.

You can feel your own arousal starting to pool in your underwear simply from hearing the sounds Emily makes. The quiet gasps, the needy whines and whimpers, it all sends a thick wave of heat through your body, saturating every nerve ending in a heady glaze of want.

Trailing wet kisses along her neck and shoulder, you begin to slip from your spot atop her thigh, your knees sliding off the edge of the couch and slowly landing on the area rug below.

“Wha—where are you going?” Emily turns towards you, a worried crease between her brows.

“I wanna taste you…” You murmur, nuzzling your face into her soft chest. “Can I taste you?” You meet her gaze with wide, sparkling eyes as you kiss the tops of her breasts through the fabric of her sweater.

“Yeah…” Emily pants, breathlessly. “Please.”

You smile softly, your hand leaving the confines of her panties and resting at the curve of her hip as you settle yourself on the floor between her knees.

Emily leans back and pushes her hips towards you, her face flushed and lips parted. She watches with intent as you lift the hem of her top, exposing her soft lower belly.

Diving in, you press a featherlight kiss just below her navel. Emily sucks in a breath at the feeling of your mouth, damp and soft against her heated skin. You can feel the pale peach fuzz beneath your lips as you drag them higher, mouthing at the skin of her upper abdomen.

Emily’s hands cup the sides of your head, her thumbs brushing over your cheekbones, the tips just barely touching your eyelashes.

Her skin tastes just as sweet as imagined as you drag your tongue along the vast plains of her stomach, with a faint hint of savory perspiration. The skin prickles with goosebumps as you trail higher, lifting her sweater as you go and revealing her breasts.

Just the sight of the thick, heavy flesh makes your mouth water.

You sit back on your heels slightly, using the tips of your fingers to hold the sweater out of the way as your palms press into the sides of her breasts. Your eyes are wide as you frantically explore the newly exposed skin, admiring every stretch mark, freckle, or sun spot, as well as the dusky pink of her nipples.

Leaning forward, you press a solid kiss to the shiny skin in the valley between her breasts, inhaling deeply.

Your kisses grow wet and sloppy, tongue laving along the hot underside of the globes. Emily lets herself fall into the spell of your attention, the pleasure. Her head falls back, tendons growing tought beneath the skin as her chest rises and falls in shallow breaths.

You look up to watch her expression when your mouth reaches her nipples, kissing the bud before dragging a flattened tongue over it.

“Oh-” Emily jerks, her head tilting forward and her gaze landing on your mouth.

Your tongue flicks out at her nipple, drawing a choked gasp from Emily’s throat. Her cheeks grow a darker shade of red the longer she watches, her lips parted in a silent moan.

“Such a tease” She sighs, her breath fanning across your face. “C’mere… take this off of me.” Emily brushes the hair from your face, smoothing her fingers over your crown.

Excitedly, you crane up to peck her lips before sliding your hands up her sides and into the sleeves of her sweater, pushing it over her head, swiftly and discarding it somewhere on the other side of the couch.

You take a moment to admire her half-nude form, her reddened skin, her chest—still covered in the sheen of your saliva, her tousled silver hair; she is a prime example of the purest form of beauty.

You reach out, brushing the tangled strands from her collarbones before tracing over her shoulders and down her arms. When you reach her hands, you take them in your own, pulling them towards your face.

Emily stares wondrously as you kiss her knuckles, down to the tips of her individual fingers, then her calloused palms. When you reach her wrist, you slowly run your finger along the sleek leather of her watch, unclasping it before gently sliding it off her wrist and placing it on the end table.

Your lips brush against the sensitive skin, her pulse thrumming beneath the light pressure of your thumb. A quiet whimper falls from the older woman’s mouth as you kiss along her wrist and up her arm, painstakingly slow and with lustrous intensity.

Emily slips one hand from your grasp, using it to tug you in by the hair.

Her mouth is a force as it collides with yours with a renewed passion, sucking you in as if she were trying to swallow you whole.

“Please.” She whispers, nipping at your swollen bottom lip.

Your hands cup the sides of her ribcage, feeling the ridges with the pads of your thumbs.

“Patience…” you draw the word out in a hushed whisper against her lips, nipping at the bottom one before dipping to the side again and kissing along her shoulder.

Emily groans impatiently, her flushed skin almost glistening as she struggles to hold herself back.

You smirk as you drag your tongue, hot and languid, over her right collarbone, dipping into the hollow of her throat, then the other.

Her chest rises and falls almost frantically at the attention, her head tilting back to allow you more access.

You accept the offer graciously, a hand reaching up to catch her head as it lolls back—your lips latching on to the spot below her ear that pulls a gasp from her lungs.

With a drag of your teeth, you slip lower once again.

Your mouth moves tirelessly over her chest and the rounded edges of her breasts, your nose brushes at her side as you lavish her with undivided attention.

You inhale her deeply, breathing in the scent of sweat and skin, the intoxicating essence of her deodorant mixed with something entirely Emily.

She’s everywhere in your senses, and it makes you feel like you’re floating in space, watching it all happen from above.

You take her nipple into your mouth, and Emily breathes out shakily, arching into the suction of your lips, the swirling of your tongue.

Your teeth scrape over the bud and pull a surprised yelp from the older woman, her eyes shoot down to catch yours.

Her pupils are so blown that you can’t even tell where they end and her irises begin. The pride that surges through you is almost painful, curling deep in your chest, lungs going taught and then unfurling hotly.

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, watching your face with half-lidded eyes as you shift to the opposite breast, giving it the same treatment.

Your hands glide down the length of her torso, palming the sides of her chest before your nails rake down her belly. Emily shivers, her hips twitching and her covered mound brushing against your abdomen.

Finally, you lean back on your heels, letting your eyes take her in one last time.

You sit perched between her legs, palms driving up the underside of her thighs. The muscle trembles faintly, you wonder if it’s the anticipation or nerves—maybe both.

“Scoot a bit closer toward the edge for me, beautiful.” You murmur, dipping down to press a gentle kiss to her knee.

Her urges forward at the request, wiggling her hips as she slides closer—her ass just barely hanging off the edge of the couch cushion.

“Can I take these off?” Your fingers curl into the waistband of her sweats, teasing the hot skin at her panty line.

Emily doesn’t speak, she doesn’t trust her voice, she nods furiously—lifting her hips in the air for you to slip the fabric over her ass.

You pull the pants down agonizingly slow, revealing endless miles of leg. When the pants reach her ankles, you pull her socks off with them.

With the fabric discarded across the room, your head rests against her soft inner thigh, eyes dancing curiously over her most intimate region.

Your blunt nails scratch at the top of her thigh, noting the way a faint dusting of goosebumps rises on the flesh. Reaching the apex, your fingertips trace the hem of her panties, dipping teasingly beneath.

Emily hisses at the contact, like your touch scalds.

The thin, dark blue cotton sits slightly askew on her hips, the damp spot above her center darkening the fabric wickedly.

“Have I ever mentioned how brilliant you look in blue, Chief Prentiss?” You murmur, eyes flicking up at her through your lashes before landing on her center again.

Emily grumbles at the title, her hand brushing your hair back from your forehead.

“No, agent Y/L/N, I don’t think you have…” She plays along confidently, and it makes your breath stutter.

You bite your lip nervously; that proud tone in her voice always makes you so weak.

“Well, you do…” You tilt your face, letting your nose drag along her thigh. “Absolutely…” You press a kiss to the meaty flesh of the apex. “Fucking…” another, right above her covered pubic hair. “Brilliant.”

With the last words you press your mouth directly atop her clit, the bud twitching as your lips close in a slow—wet kiss.

Emily chuckles breathily as she slumps against the back of the couch, and it almost sounds like it’s mixed with a moan.

Your palms grip the backs of her knees, lifting and pressing them apart.

You breathe her in, the thick, heady scent of her arousal sending a shiver down your spine, the hairs on your arms standing.

You kiss lower, tongue swiping out to taste her through the thin fabric.

It’s all too much and not enough at the same time.

Your nose rubs her clit as you practically make out with her covered pussy, her nails digging into your scalp—pressing your face closer.

“Oh, babe…” Emily moans softly, her mouth hanging open. “Please, fuck—I need to feel that pretty mouth.”

You let out a deep, needy groan, the vibrations sending a jolt straight through her.

Without a word, you sit up, gripping the hem of her panties and tugging them down so roughly the fabric pops.

Emily gapes at the aggressive movement, her breasts swaying as she shifts up for you again, letting you tear the fabric from her legs.

You gaze at her flushed face first, she looks positively ravished, then you look at the damp cotton in your hands.

“I’m keeping these.” You declare smugly, bringing them up to your face and breathing her in before shifting onto your knees and shoving the panties in your back pocket.

“Filthy thing you are…” she murmurs, her eyes glassy with arousal.

A grin spreads across your face at the phrase, a tiny whine bubbling in your throat from the slight degradation mixed in.

You take in her utterly nude state, the tuft of salt and pepper curls between her legs now on full display. Your mouth waters at the sight of her, saliva pooling under your tongue.

“You’re wearing too many clothes.” Emily leans forward, her foot drawing over your clothed inner thigh.

“Am I? Maybe you should help me out of them then?” You lift your arms, and Emily’s hands immediately grasp at the hem of your t-shirt, pulling it over your head in one swift motion.

Her hands are at your belt next, her fingers tugging it open and reaching for the button of your jeans. You’re on your feet quicker than she has time to ask you to stand, pants falling down your thighs before stepping out of them.

Emily’s whimpers as she takes in the tightness of your underwear on your hips, the curve of your breasts in your sports bra.

She reaches for you, her fingers digging into the backs of your thighs. She pulls you to stand between her legs, her hands sliding over the curve of your ass and scratching up your back.

“Jesus…” she pants, her eyes wide.

Her mouth is on you next, soft lips pressing kisses to your belly. You shove her backwards by the shoulders before she can get too far, falling back against the couch with an oof.

“This is about you, Emily… worry about me after I make you cum.” The words are gravely as they leave your throat, arousal evident in the raspiness.

She quirks a challenging brow, spreading her legs wide and settling further into the couch.

You sink to your knees before her, her scent already clouding the air. Your hands come to rest atop her knees, squeezing lightly as you press them apart.

Your eyes rake over her body, the soft curves, the old and new scars that blemish her flawless skin.

“You..” your lips press to the center of her heaving chest, “are sooo…” your tongue drags between her breasts, “fucking…” down her stomach and nipping at the soft pudge below her navel, “gorgeous.”

With the final words your lips find her pussy, warm and wet, awaiting. Emily’s hips buck against your face as you press sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to her sex, desperate for the release she’s been craving.

“Fuck.” The silver-haired woman sighs, her stomach twitching at the contact. Her eyes are locked on your face as you bury yourself in her, devouring.

Pressing her legs up again, you settle them over your shoulders, arms wrapping around her upper thighs and pulling her impossibly closer.

Your tongue draws a flat stripe over her folds, dipping between them before flicking at the underside of her clit. Emily jolts, her fingers threading into your hair and holding you exactly where she wants you.

“Yes…” You almost chant. “Fuck my face.”

Emily moans at your lewd words, and your mouth opens—tongue unfurling and resting atop your bottom lip.

Above, Emily grins through a silent cry—her hands gripping at your scalp and maneuvering your head in an up and down motion, sliding your tongue over her pussy whilst her hips roll in circular motions.

You groan at the feeling, your nose pressing into her pubic hair, the way she’s taken control is absolutely intoxicating.

“Hm—you feel so good.” Emily pants, and your eyes flick up to her face, watching hungrily as her muscles clench and pulse, arms flexing as she guides you.

You can’t help but flash your teeth in a wolfish grin at her affected state, hands reaching up to squeeze her breasts.

Her skin is nearly feverish as your thumbs brush over peaked nipples, circling lightly with the pads before pinching them between your knuckles. The tweaking urges a whimper from Emily’s throat, squeaking out just as her head falls back again—her bottom lip pulled between her teeth.

“You look so pretty like this…” You mumble in between laps, swallowing down the excess saliva and arousal that’s gathered in the back of your throat.

Emily chuckles wryly, her gaze falling back on your face. “You look even better.”

You hold back a groan as your mouth closes around her clit, suckling softly whilst your tongue flicks over it.

Emily chokes on a moan at the sudden shift in pressure, her hands and thighs squeezing so tightly around your head that it feels as if it might pop.

“Jesus Christ, you’re so good with that mouth.” She pants between words, muscles trembling.

You hum at the praise, jaw opening wider so your tongue can slip down to her entrance, just barely pressing inside before swiping back up and repeating the motion.

“Oh—” she gasps above you, rutting her hips against your tongue. “Keep doing that…”

You follow her orders silently, lapping at her pussy graciously while she moves against you. A wet stain—without a doubt, forming on the lush fabric of the cushions below her.

Her face scrunches up in pleasure, and you can’t help but watch as she uses your face however she pleases.

“Oh god… fuck, you’re so good�� oh, fuck.” Emily cries, her head tilted back in pure, unbridled desire.

“You gonna cum for me, beautiful? You like the way my tongue feels?” You murmur against her pussy, quickly re-attaching your mouth to her clit as she fucks herself on your face wildly, unabashedly.

“Yes, so good—fuck, Y/n, FUCK!” Emily gasps, her hands clutching harshly at your scalp, her body seizing up, and her hips twitching ever so slightly as the orgasm she's been praying for finally washes over her.

A moan slips from your throat at the feeling of her pussy pulsing beneath your tongue, the way her hips roll—riding out the remainder of her pleasure.

Emily lets out a dramatic groan, those perfect, pearl-like teeth on full display as she falls limp against the couch, easing down from her high.

“Oh my god…” she sighs, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes as you place a final kiss to her clit.

“How was that? I do alright for you?” You question, raising your brows teasingly as you kiss up her sweaty torso.

“You made me cum, Y/n.” She laughs, you can’t help the blush that creeps onto your cheeks. “I haven’t even been able to make myself finish in months, so whatever the hell you just did…” her eyes go wide, flashing the white of her sclera before her hands cup your cheeks—pulling your mouth to meet hers in a soft kiss before leaning back just enough to look you in the eye. “I might have to keep you on speed-dial…”

You surge forward this time, a greedy sense of pride swelling in your chest. The kiss is needy and open-mouthed, Emily’s tongue effortlessly slipping past your lips to taste herself. She groans into it, her arms wrapping around your neck and pulling you tight to her body.

You can feel her pubic hair brushing against your belly from this angle, and you swear you’ve begun dripping onto the floor even with your underwear still on.

“Can I worry about you now?” Emily murmurs teasingly, nipping at your bottom lip.

You chuckle heartily at her eagerness, giving her one last wet kiss before sitting back and climbing to your feet with a groan. Kneeling on hard floors never has been kind to your knees.

“Let’s go to the bedroom.” You stand in front of her, reaching out to smooth your hand over her tousled silver locks. “I’m sure the bed is much comfier.”

“Oh, definitely.” She nods, her dark eyes sparkling as she rocks forward onto her feet. She wobbles for a moment, her hands shooting out to steady herself on your shoulder.

You wrap an arm around her back, the skin sticky with perspiration. “Alright?”

“Yeah… just forgot about those post-orgasm wobbles, y’know?” She grins, tilting her chin up and pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth.

You laugh softly, squeezing her hip and pulling her flush to your body. You tilt your head, inviting her in—she meets you with an open mouth, tongue invading your senses as she starts walking you backward towards her bedroom.

Her hands slip into the back of your underwear, palming your ass beneath the fabric. A muffled squeak slips into her mouth from the roughness of it, a seemingly more dominant persona taking over with the reversal of roles.

You manage to make it to the bedroom with minimal stumbling, given the fact that your eyes are closed and your body—occupied.

Upon entering the room, you’re hit with a fresh wave of Emily’s scent. You suck in a deep breath against her lips, breaking the kiss to glance around the room.

“Let me take these off…” Emily murmurs against your jaw, her hands sliding up the muscle of your back and under the hem of your sports bra.

You lift your arms for her, letting the fabric slip over your head—the rush of cool air stiffening your nipples almost sorely. Her hands cover the exposed skin instantly, svelte fingers kneading at the flesh.

“So beautiful…” Emily mumbles, her gaze slipping to your chest. Her kisses trail over your jaw, then your neck, and she’s walking you backwards again.

When your knees hit the edge of the mattress, you ease yourself onto it, and Emily kisses further down your torso as you go.

Her lips wrap around a pert nipple, and a whine slips from your throat, your hands clutching at the sheets.

“Your mouth feels so good, so warm.” The words sound more like a moan as they leave you.

Emily’s hums around the hardened bud, sending a sharp twinge of arousal straight between your legs. You let go of the sheets and clutch at the back of her head desperately, holding her as close as possible.

Emily climbs onto the bed next, your thighs spreading to accommodate her between them.

The feeling of her bare body flush to yours is absolutely overwhelming. Her hips press into your pelvis as she kisses back up your chest and takes your mouth once again—the patch of hair between her legs tickles the sensitive skin as she carefully rocks into you.

You let out a groan, your own hips moving against her motion to gain any sort of friction.

The kisses are sloppy and wet, but neither of you could care less, your body is surrounded entirely by the older woman, every nerve set ablaze as her touches wander.

Her hands rake down your flanks and over your outer thighs, squeezing the flesh before pressing them open wider.

“I think it’s my turn now…” Emily mumbles between kisses, her nails scratching over your skin in a way that makes your body tense and your insides churn.

“Please…” you plead, voice hardly a whisper as you clutch at her shoulders.

Emily grins, her eyes trailing over your flushed face.

“I'd like to taste you…” She bows down, her teeth nipping at your earlobe. “Would you like me to do that, sweetheart?”

“God, yes…” your body arches into her, bare chest squishing against hers.

Emily chuckles, low and teasing, as she kisses her way down your body again. Her tongue drags across your collarbones, then down the valley of your breasts.

She sucks harshly at one's underside and it pulls a yelp from your throat. You look down at her shyly, climbing up onto your elbows.

She meets your gaze as she lifts and slides lower on the bed, her mouth never leaving your body. Her tongue laves at the edge of your rib cage, wet and searing before it drags lower, circling your navel.

Your breathing is ragged as she nips at the flesh of your lower belly, then your hip bones.

Her eyes flick up to meet yours before she drags her nose up your inner thigh, her lips pressing teasing kisses as she moves. She does the same to the other thigh, biting at the tender skin at the apex this time.

Emily licks her lips as she gazes at the soaked spot on the gusset of your underwear. Those dangerously dark eyes meet yours one last time, a silent confirmation.

“Need you...” You sigh, breathless, hips rocking towards her impatiently.

Her nose presses into you first, dragging slowly along the length of your covered slit. Her hands clutch at the backs of your thighs, pressing them apart.

“Mm, you smell good.” She groans, and you can feel the vibrations through the thin fabric.

“Take them off…” Emily follows orders, curling her fingers into the waistband and tugging eagerly. You lift your hips to assist, kicking them the rest of the way off.

When you settle back down on the mattress, Emily’s gaze locks on your needy sex, her eyelids heavy with lust as she takes it in.

She brushes her fingers teasingly around your puffy folds, keeping you on edge. You know you’re already a mess from the way her breath fans your skin, sending a chill across the wetness.

“Touch me, Emily…” you murmur, watching her eagerly as she licks her lips—the sheen of her saliva glistening in the low light.

“You’re so pretty… so wet.” Emily rasps, she looks almost distraught as she rests her palm atop your mound, her thumb swiping over your soaked folds.

You can hear the squelch of your wetness as she toys with you, pulling a tiny whimper from your throat.

She rests her head against your inner thigh, watching closely as she brushes the underside of your clit. Your hips twitch as the sudden touch, pussy clenching around nothing as she keeps a featherlight pressure in the sensitive bud.

“Sensitive?” She mumbles, raising a brow.

“Mhmm…” you hum in response, grinding into her.

She swipes over your clit one last time before dragging it down to your slit, thoroughly coating it in your arousal before pressing it inside.

It’s hardly enough to satisfy, but it feels heavenly regardless.

She cranes forward next, her lips brushing over your mound. She presses a wet kiss to the center of your pelvis, then another just above your clit, and finally the sensitive bulb peeking out from beneath its hood.

Her tongue flicks out next, dragging flat and slow over your folds before drawing to a point and circling over your swollen clit.

Your head tilts back with a sigh as she finally gives you the pressure you’ve been craving, tongue dipping in alongside her thumb before dragging your arousal up, spreading it.

Emily’s thumb slips out, hands wrapping around your thighs and pulling your pussy flush to her face.

You moan quietly as her mouth covers your sex, her tongue dragging languidly over its entirety before wrapping her lips around the bud and sucking.

She moans into you, practically burying her face between your legs.

Your muscles tremble as she works you, a shiver making its way through your body from how impossibly turned on you are.

Your fingers card through the silver locks at her crown, brushing them to one side so you can really admire her.

Emily laps eagerly, mouthing at your pussy as if it were her the last thing she’d do.

You can feel the tension building, that deep ache burning brightly in your womb as she urges on. Her tongue feels like everything, so perfectly overwhelming but delicate at the same time, like she knows exactly how to break you apart from the inside out.

“Shit—Emily… keep going baby.” You pant, hips rocking against her mouth. “Don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” She groans, quickly reattaching her mouth. Her hands leave their spot on your thighs and reach up, scratching over your abdomen before palming at your breasts.

Her knuckles pinch at your nipples, pulling a shrill moan from you.

Her tongue works in tandem with the rhythm of your hips, applying the perfect amount of pressure, all while keeping still enough for you to control where it goes.

You’re already so close, it definitely won’t take much longer for you to be hurdling over the edge.

Her right hand leaves your breast and trails up, her fingertips dancing over your pulse point before brushing over your already parted lips.

You let her fingers slip inside, tongue immediately swirling around the long digits. Emily groans at the sight, her eyes fluttering closed as her efforts double down—sucking harder at your clit.

“Fuck!” You yelp, your body twitching at the sudden change in stimulation.

Her hand shifts beneath her body, the now well-soaked fingers teasing at your entrance before her middle slips inside.

“Yes—more.” Your hand clutches at her scalp as you pant, holding her right where you need her.

Her index joins in at your request, curling deliciously into your sweet spot with each slow, deep thrust.

“So good…” You sigh, your body curling into itself to heighten the sensations.

You can feel the tension growing with each pass, the thickness of her fingers filling you perfectly. Emily’s face glows pink as she breathes heavily against you, her eyes flicking up at your face before falling shut again.

Suddenly, Emily’s tongue shifts, swiping against a particularly sensitive spot, and your body begins rapidly approaching orgasm. The taught string of heat in your belly cracks, your thighs tremble, and you try your hardest to keep them from crushing Emily’s head between them.

“Fuck, Emily! Right there—oh my god…” You groan through clenched teeth, your face screwing up with the intensity of your pleasure.

Emily doesn’t change a single thing about what she’s doing, keeping the perfect consistency. With one last swirl of her tongue and press of her fingers, your body crashes into an orgasm, trembling wildly as she slows down just enough not to overstimulate you.

Your body arches off the mattress, and your elbows collapse, neck craning backwards into the pillows.

Emily’s fingers slip from inside you, her hands splaying wide over your abdomen as she eases you down.

You laugh out a moan as the waves begin to settle finally, leaving faint twitches in their wake.

“Mm, fuck… you’re so good at that.” You sigh, your fingers raking through her hair, practically petting her. “People really don’t know what they're missing.”

Emily lets out a hearty chuckle, pressing gentle kisses to your sensitive folds and along your inner thighs.

She works her way up your body slowly, kissing, licking, and biting at your flushed skin. She hums as she reaches your upper torso, kissing over the darkening hickeys she left on your breasts.

“You’re welcome.” Emily rasps, her nose nudging at the underside of your chin as she slots herself into your side, her thigh resting between your legs.

“Mm, thank you.” You smile at her dazedly, your eyes half-closed as you lean in to kiss her. She meets you eagerly, her tongue flicking out for you to taste yourself.

You moan into the kiss, sucking on the muscle gently before letting it go. Your arms wrap loosely around her shoulders, holding her body close. Her blunt fingernails rake along your side, tickling.

Soon enough, your body is already keening for more. You grind down against her thigh subtly, your slick spreading onto her skin.

Emily smiles into the kiss, nipping at your bottom lip. She grips at the meat of your waist, pulling your pussy against hardened muscle.

You gasp, your arms wrapping around her tightly.

“You like that? Wanna ride my leg?” She mumbles into your mouth, her fingers kneading into the flesh of your ass as she guides your movement along her thigh.

“Yes.” You whisper sharply, rutting harder against her.

Emily groans, rolling onto her back and pulling you on top of her. Her foot presses into the mattress, raising herself up to press into you.

“Shit...oh—” you tremble, forearms framing her head.

Emily grins smugly below you, groaning as her tongue flicks out at the underside of your jaw before biting at it. Your spine curves to give her more room, the sharpness of her teeth on your skin sending a prickly chill over your body.

The sound of your slick dragging along her toned thigh is just about all you can hear, aside from your own panting breaths and whimpers.

Your abdominal muscles burn as your hips roll eagerly, hands grasping at the pillows behind Emily’s head.

“God, you look so good like this.” Emily groans, her eyes dancing wildly over your body.

A choked moan cracks from your throat as she squeezes you particularly rough, forcing your sex down hard against her thigh.

“Hm—fuck, Emily, hold on…” You gasp, pressing your hands to her sweat-slickened chest and lifting your torso.

“What’s wrong? What do you need?” She murmurs, her palms sliding up from their place on your hips and cupping the underside of your breasts.

“Let me just..” you shift quickly, rotating your hips and grabbing one of her thighs, raising it just enough for you to settle your pelvis against hers—sliding your pussy's together.

“Oh, I haven’t done this in ages…” Emily chuckles, curling up to better position herself for you.

Emily watches with a bewildered expression as you find your rhythm, your hips dragging in a somewhat circular motion.

“Feel good for you?” You ask her breathily, holding her thigh to your stomach with one hand while your other hand palms her breasts.

“I’m not sure it’ll be enough to get me off, but I wanna watch you.” She rasps, her bottom lip shining from the pooling saliva in her mouth. “You look so pretty, rubbing yourself on me like that, fuck.”

“You feel so good.” You whine out the praise as you grind fervently, chasing the perfect amount of friction. Your clit, still hypersensitive from the last orgasm.

The lewd sounds of your soaked pussy grinding against her flesh fill the surrounding air, and the bed creaks. Emily looks so incredibly disheveled below you, completely absorbed in your presence. Her dark eyes, wide and focused, her hips and hands working your body tirelessly.

Your nails dig into the muscle of her thigh as you feel the telltale signs of an orgasm start bubbling within you. Your head lolls back, pleasure overtaking your movements.

One of Emily’s hands strays, bony knuckles pinching roughly at your nipples. The sharp sting shoots straight down to your sex, causing a fresh wave of arousal to pool between your bodies.

“Fuck—Emily.” You cry and your head tilts forward again, lips pressing against her kneecap. “So good… so close.”

Your teeth graze her skin as you pant and rut against her, a film of sweat sheening over your skin.

You shift your hips again, and Emily squeaks—her mouth falling open as the new movement hits a particularly sensitive spot on her clit.

“You’re doing so good, baby.” She breathes, her eyes fluttering closed. “Hngh—that feels good.”

“Yeah? Think you can cum?” You keep the position steady as you crane your neck to face her.

Her brows crease together as she focuses on the feeling, her chest spattered in a deep red flush.

“Yeah—fuck, I think so.” Her voice is practically a whisper as she relaxes her body, flowing with the consistency of your movements.

“What do you need? I wanna make it happen.” You set your own needs aside for the moment, letting your hand wander up her chest again.

You rake your nails down the center of her chest, and her body arches into the touch. You can see the faint muscles of her abdomen clenching with each roll of her hips.

“Just keep touching me, multiple points of stimulation help.” She whimpers through gritted teeth.

You nod silently, keeping your attention on her.

Your fingers draw teasing circles around her nipple, pinching, rolling the bud between the pads of your fingers before tugging gently. She twitches at the pleasurable pain, a whimperish moan slipping from her lips.

You let your fingers trail upward, dancing along her collarbone before pressing into her already open mouth.

Her eyes shoot open at the unexpected intrusion, but she’s quick to accept it—sucking them in halfway before swirling her tongue between them.

Her face flushes harder at the sight of your face, the reaction your body seems to have. Your lips parting a silent moan, the motion of your hips faltering momentarily before picking up again.

You pull your fingers from her mouth and attach them to her neglected nipple, repeating the same motions.

“I want you to cum with me…” Emily pipes up, her half-lidded eyes locking on yours.

“You’re close?” You pant, picking up the pace.

“Yeah…” Emily’s brow glistens, the white hair at her temples clinging to the skin.

With a hand trailing down her belly and combing through the hair atop her mound, you can’t help but smile excitedly. The hair is completely drenched in a mixture of your arousal, slightly matted. You tangle your fingers in it, pulling it back and exposing more of her clit.

“Shit—” Emily sucks in a sharp breath, the now heightened sensitivity building her up rapidly.

“Come on, baby.” You whine, your head dropping to rest against her knee. “Fuck, you feel so good, Emily.”

“I’m almost there, ugh—almost there…" she trails off, her face contorting as the pang of her orgasm hits.

You double down on your efforts, muscles clenching as you work yourself over the edge with her.

“Fuck, fuck—Emily.” Your body tenses, orgasm rippling through your body. Your hips stutter as you ride it out, thighs trembling, and your upper half almost doubling over with the intensity of the aftershocks.

Emily’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush to her chest. You paw at the older woman’s biceps, clinging to her.

Both of your bodies are slick with perspiration; if you had any sense of function left in your brain, you’d probably try to peel yourself away—but you don’t.

Emily sighs loudly against your hair, her breath tickling your scalp.

“God, that wore me out.” You smile, your cheek squished against the protrusion of her shoulder.

“Tell me about it…” she chuckles, combing her fingers through the ends of your hair.

The pair of you lay in a panting heap for a long moment, settling into each other's overheated presences.

You press gentle kisses along her collarbone before tilting to press your nose against her neck, breathing in her scent—a mix of sweat and lotion, feeling the thrum of her pulse beneath the skin.

“God, don’t sniff me, you weirdo.” Emily swats at your arm playfully. “I probably reek.”

“No.” You mumble against the base of her ear, breathing her in again. “You smell good. You always smell good.”

“If you say so, sweetheart.” She sighs, the same hand that hit you, now stroking languidly along the muscle of your flank.

“Have you got a bathtub?” You ask, raising your head just enough to look her in the eyes.

“Yes… Why?” She gives you a curious look.

“Let me run you a bath… take care of you.” You lean down to press tentative kisses along her cheekbone, then down to her lips.

Emily hums into the kiss, contemplating.

“I suppose that would be nice…” The low purr of her voice rumbles against your chest, “As long as you join me?” A lazy smile tugs at the corners of her mouth.

“Of course, ready to get up?” Your hand smooths over the soft curve of her belly, comfortably,

“Yeahhh…” she grumbles, and you sit up beside her. “Why don’t you go start it, and I’ll meet you in there.”

“Sure.” She smiles at you as you lean in to kiss her again, it's chaste and gentle. She exhales into it.

With a squeeze of her thigh, you wobble your way toward her en-suite, which earns an amused laugh from the unit chief.

The en-suite is quite large, but comfortably so. Natural colored tiled floors and a matching shower, the walls are white, but the warm shade of the overhead light keeps it cozy.

Stepping over to the tub, you turn it on, finding the perfect temperature before plugging the drain and letting it fill.

You’re rifling through the toilette cabinet when a set of warm hands rest upon your shoulders.

“If you wanted to snoop, you could’ve just asked…” Emily squeezes your tight, mildly sore muscles. You laugh softly before standing and turning to face her.

“I was looking to see if you had some Epsom salts or bubble bath or something.” Your hands wrap loosely around her hips, pulling her body flush against you.

“I don’t, but shower gel might work?” Her brow quirks, and she slips from your grasp.

She grabs a bottle from the shower floor and pours a healthy amount into the tub. Soon enough, the bubbles start to form, and she looks over at you with an excited smile.

“You… are so cute, Emily Prentiss.” You chuckle, admiring her mused but adorable appearance.

“I am not cute.” She huffs, grabbing two towels from the cabinet and setting them on the countertop.

“You just keep believing that.”

…

Once the tub is full, Emily slips in first, moaning at the perfect temperature.

You slip in behind her, your thighs bracketing her hips. She leans back against your chest, her head falling back into your shoulder.

“This is nice, such a smart idea.” Emily hums, pressing her cheek against your own.

“I am technically a genius, y’know.” You quip, earning yourself a pinch to the inner thigh.

“That wasn’t very nice.” You mumble, wrapping your arms around her waist, palms flat over the curve of her lower belly.

“I haven’t any idea what you’re talking about…” She lands a soft kiss on your cheek, smiling as she basks in the warmth surrounding her.

“Mhmm.” Your thumbs rub soothing patterns over her soft skin.

Tilting your chin down, you press a kiss to the curve of her shoulder, the sweet scent of the bubbles lingering in the air.

Emily sighs as you kiss up the side of her neck, your nose brushing the back of her ear before your tongue darts out, teasing along the shell of it.

Her breath hitches, and the dissipating flush on her skin comes back in full swing.

“Y/n…” Her nails dig into the sides of your knees on both sides of her hips.

“Emily…” Your teeth graze her earlobe, and your fingers start to dance lower again. “Think you have one more for me?” You mumble, voice low against the side of her head.

“Yes.” Emily breathes out, her thighs spreading as your hands drag down her inner thighs. “God, you’re too good at this.”

You can’t help but chuckle at how wrecked you’ve gotten her, completely willing and desperate beneath the unwielding force of your hands.

Using your hips, you raise her bottom from the base of the tub and shift her so that she rests atop your left thigh, giving yourself more room to work, all while holding her close.

“Spread your legs.” You murmur, and she instantly obliges, her right leg settling between yours and the wall of porcelain.

The bubbles on the water's surface block the view of your ministrations from above, heightening the sensations’ intensity.

Your nails rake teasingly up Emily’s inner thighs, holding them open. When you reach the apex, her hips roll into the touch, urging you on. The fingertips of your right hand dance along the crease of her sex, teasing her folds while your left slides up to cup her breasts, your thumb brushing over her nipples.

Emily whines against the curve of your jaw, her right arm coming up to wrap around your neck.

“Please…” she pants, her teeth grazing your skin. You hum in response, tilting your head to take her lips in yours.

Just as her tongue flicks out at your bottom lip, your middle finger swipes over her swollen clit. Emily whimpers, and you catch it with your lips, swallowing it down.

Dipping into her slit, you feel the traces of her arousal. The fact that you’re the one at fault for it stirs a childlike sense of pride within you, as if you just won a prize at the fair.

You draw light circles over her clit, before teasing the sensitive underside of it for a moment and circling again.

“That feels good…” she whispers, breaking the kiss for a moment. “I wanna feel you inside me.”

The confession makes your heart skip a beat.

“Yeah?”

“Yes… Just go slow, one finger.” She kisses you again, slow and deep.

You groan into the kiss, the finger on her clit sliding between her folds once again. The tip of your middle finger teases her entrance for a moment, and her hips jump to meet it.

Emily hisses as the first inch slips inside. She’s so warm, sensitive to the touch.

“More, it’s okay.” She mumbles, her hand covering yours and pressing you deeper.

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth as you bottom out, a quiet whine crackling from her throat as your palm makes contact with her clit.

“Guide me.”

She looks you in the eyes as her hand starts moving yours, angling your wrist so that your length tilts up, aiming for her spot.

Her hips cant forward as she settles into a slow rhythm, brows furrowing.

“You feel so good.” Your nose brushes against her own, and she smiles faintly, her glassy eyes hooded.

She pulls you into another passionate kiss, rising into it slightly, and the tops of her breasts break the surface of the bubbles.

You pinch at her nipple and you can feel her pussy clench around you. Emily moans softly, her hand in your hair, tugging at the nape of your neck.

“Play with my clit.” She whines, dropping your hand that’s inside her and dragging the one on her breast down. “Please.”

You smirk against her, nipping at her bottom lip as you scissor at her clit with your middle and fore fingers.

Emily’s head falls back limply, and you take that as a chance to give her neck some attention. You kiss and lick along the exposed tendons, leaving faint marks that’ll fade in the next few minutes.

Her hips rut against your hands, rippling the water.

“Mm, fuck you’re so hot.” You groan against her neck, biting at the muscle of her shoulder. Emily squeaks at the sudden aggressive gesture, her abdomen twitching.

“Oh—hm, gonna cum, baby…” she cries, lifting her head back up to face you again.

“Yeah? I’m making you feel good? You like the way I touch you?” You purr against her parted lips, her panting breaths fanning over your chin.

“God, yes… I love it, taking such good care of me.” Her eyes flutter closed, her words breathy and full of need.

The synced movement of your fingers is unwavering, working steadily until her muscles are trembling above you.

“Y/n—” she moans, her spine arching as her thighs quiver, tightening around your hands between them.

“That’s it… I’ve got you.” You finger stills inside her, keeping a constant pressure against her spot whilst your fingers on her clit circle slowly—drawing out the last bits of her orgasm.

Emily exhales shakily as her nails claw at your forearm, steadying your movements.

“Easy, easy… fuck.” She groans, smiling brightly.

Her eyes open, gazing at you heavily. The apples of her cheeks glow pink, shining from the steam. She leans in to kiss you again, slow and chaste—but no less meaningful.

“I am definitely going to keep you around if it’s like this every time…” she chuckles, her hand loosening in your hair and cupping your cheek.

“Oh, yes. And… whenever you need it.”

“I like the sound of that…”

…

a/n: i hope that did not disappoint after all the waiting... anyways, happy humping!!!

taglist: @luvgreyponytail @piiinco @xoxo-maryssa @prentissmultiverse @blackcatlesbo @teeshatequila @professorsapphic @decadentcatcrusade @classic-fangirl-emily-prentiss @wittygutsy @jareauiisms @keepinggcomposure @bernieswolfe @prentitty @garcialuvr @chiefemilyprentiss @yourneighborhoodwlw @g59mads @r0manxff @confidant-thoughts @joanofvarc @lez-talk1 @wlwoceaneyes @wandasdollie @maximoffcarter @chestnutninny @realmisssnowflakes

#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss #ao3 #reader insert #wlw smut #emily pretiss smut #dykeforhire fic stuffs #criminal minds #emily prentiss fanfiction

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maielasworld · 2 days ago

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Juno through the Houses: Your Ideal Partner & Where You Might Meet Them ☄️

While Venus shows what you want in romance (pleasure, attraction), Juno shows what you need in a long-term commitment.

It’s like Juno says: “Okay, you can flirt with X and be attracted to Y… but you’re gonna marry Z.”

⚵ Juno in the 1st House or in Aries:

You’re drawn to people who are determined, bold, and willing to fight for the relationship. The hero/heroine archetype. Someone confident, with strong opinions, who takes initiative and stands up for what they believe in. This placement can also make you appear more attractive to others. You’ll naturally gravitate towards people whose identity reflects your own. Relationships often become a priority here, and honestly… you like a bit of a challenge. Likely to meet them while out and about, at events, or even doing sports.

⚵ Juno in the 2nd House or in Taurus:

You’ll look for someone who knows how to seduce you the right way. Taurus energy loves to feel, so you’re drawn to people who pamper you, offer emotional and financial stability, and who feel safe and grounded. You appreciate traditional gestures like proposals, rings, romantic dinners... someone who values beauty and loyalty. You're into people with good taste who enjoy the finer, comfier things in life. Fickle people? Nope, not your thing. You might meet them at a friend’s house, during social events, shopping, or even in luxurious places.

⚵ Juno in the 3rd House or in Gemini:

You want someone who gets you, gives you attention, and keeps the conversation alive. Someone witty, curious, with good humor, and a playful vibe. Random crushes? Totally possible here. You’re into people who can teach you things, and who won’t cling too much. Smart, fun, and free-spirited is your type. Skillful people also catch your eye. Likely to meet them online, on your way back home, in public transportation, or even through your siblings.

⚵ Juno in the 4th House or in Cancer:

You crave nurturing, cozy relationships. That childhood comfort feeling. Someone who truly cares about you. Deep down, you want someone with maternal vibes, who’ll cook for you, build a home, and make you feel safe. You can be territorial too, super attached to your partner. Might meet them through family, at weddings, birthdays, or other family gatherings.

⚵ Juno in the 5th House or in Leo:

You’re into people with strong presence. Someone noble, who knows their worth. You want to be admired, praised, and recognized. You love bold people, adventurous types, and good-looking partners who aren’t afraid of the spotlight. Relationships here often bring you attention or fame in some way. Could even marry someone popular or known. Likely to meet them at events, concerts, kids’ parties, entertainment venues, or while on vacation.

⚵ Juno in the 6th House or in Virgo:

You’ll be drawn to helpful, organized people. Someone who understands structure, details, and who shows love through actions and service. You probably like simple, low-key partners who don’t show off. But... if Juno’s badly aspected, you could become super picky or overly critical. Could meet them at restaurants, clothing stores, through an aunt or uncle, doing volunteer work, on business trips, or even in a neighbor’s house. Courses on nutrition or health-related things could also be a meeting point.

⚵ Juno in the 7th House or in Libra:

Secretly, you want someone charming, social, and someone who makes you proud. You're drawn to graceful, elegant people who help you see life from a more balanced, rational perspective. You’re into seductive types with refinement. Could meet your person during long trips with friends, through counselors, therapists, lawyers, or at competitive events. Partnerships will always play a big role in how you meet them.

⚵ Juno in the 8th House or in Scorpio:

You want intensity. Even if the rest of your chart screams fire and fun, here… when it comes to love and marriage, you want privacy and depth. Mysterious people attract you. You like people who manage resources well. Sexual chemistry and emotional connection matter a LOT here. You might bond over taboo topics, shared secrets, or even fetishes. Trust and vulnerability are huge themes. Honestly… a little bit of power play or emotional games wouldn’t surprise me here. Marriage will likely transform you on a soul level. You could meet them at therapy, spiritual retreats, funerals, or through your siblings/parents.

⚵ Juno in the 9th House or in Sagittarius:

You’ll probably fall for someone cultured or foreign. Could be someone with a different religion or belief system. Big chance of traveling a lot with them. You’re drawn to generous, gift-giving people with an adventurous spirit. If Juno is challenged here, you could end up with someone who wants all the freedom but gives none. Guru-types, teachers, or spiritually elevated people might become your partner. Could meet them during long trips, in study groups, at college, libraries, or festivals.

⚵ Juno in the 10th House or in Capricorn:

You want someone established. Someone successful, patient, mature, and reliable. A partner who’s already built something in life. If Juno’s here, you’ll admire people with careers and goals. You might appear cold to your partner at times, but deep down… you just want security and stability in marriage. Could meet them through older people, bosses, at work, or through family friends.

⚵ Juno in the 11th House or in Aquarius:

You’re attracted to unique people. Alternative relationships? Open, modern, or with unusual dynamics? Totally possible here. You're into individuals who think big, care about the collective, and have a logical, rational mindset. If Juno’s in Aquarius, deep conversations and mental stimulation will matter. Friendship and freedom are key. Traditions? Not so much. You could meet them while traveling, through friends, or during group events or social causes.

⚵ Juno in the 12th House or in Pisces:

Karmic relationships alert 🚨. You might attract compassionate, dreamy, mysterious partners. Sensitive people, maybe artistic types. There’s a tendency for secret relationships or partners who don’t want to go public. Or… you might marry someone from another country or culture. You could meet them behind the scenes, in private settings, spiritual places, hospitals, prisons, or while doing charity work.

#astro community #astro notes #astrology observations #astrology #astrology notes #astro observations #astrology placements #astrologer #books #famous people #love #couples #june #asteroid #marriage #juno

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izzih22 · 2 days ago

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Do you think you could write a fic where after Azzi and Paige start dating Azzi gets insecure about her body because she is like Strong and Solid but she doesn’t feel very feminine or delicate like some of Paige’s past hookups or whatever

And obviously Paige will comfort and be like wtf you’re literally the most beautiful princess I’ve ever laid eyes on?

Thanks :)))

Beauty and Strength

Note: I kinda ate with this I think also it’s longer than usual so you’re welcome😂😂 But also thank you again for 1,000 followers!!

Warning: Kinda smutty

Paige found her in the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror.

Azzi was wearing one of Paige’s old Team USA shirts the long-sleeved navy one that fit her snug across the shoulders but fell loose and low everywhere else. Her legs were bare, hair still damp from the shower, and she was staring at herself in a way Paige recognized immediately.

It wasn’t just checking her reflection. It was the kind of staring that came with too much thinking. Heavy silence. The quiet unraveling of confidence not all at once, but just enough to make her look smaller.

Which was rare.

Because Azzi wasn’t the kind of girl who shrank.

She was solid. She was strength and calm, soft-spoken and grounded a force, even when she didn’t mean to be. She was the kind of person people trusted without knowing why. She walked into a room and slowed everything down without trying.

But right now, Paige could tell something had settled in her chest.

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Azzi’s waist from behind her chin fitting perfectly against Azzi’s damp shoulder.

“What’s going on, baby?”

Azzi hesitated. “Nothing. I’m good.”

Paige kissed her bare shoulder, slow and warm.

“Try again.”

Azzi sighed softly, not moving. “I was just looking at myself.”

Paige didn’t speak. Just stayed still, holding her close, letting Azzi lead.

“I don’t feel… delicate,” Azzi said finally. “I don’t feel like the girls people think of when they say ‘feminine.’ I feel strong. Like I’m made to hold weight. Like I could carry a team on my back. And I know that’s not a bad thing. But sometimes, I look at my body and wonder… is this what you want?”

Paige blinked, her hands tightening slightly on Azzi’s waist. “Wait — are you saying you think I’d rather be with someone more… delicate… than you?”

Azzi didn’t answer.

And that silence said everything.

Paige gently turned her around until they were face-to-face. Azzi’s eyes were still soft big and a little too glossy but she didn’t flinch when Paige stepped in, just rested her hands against Paige’s hoodie, fingers curling in the fabric.

“Az,” Paige said, lowering her voice. “You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. You always have been.”

Azzi gave her a small, tired smile. “You’re biased.”

Paige smirked. “Damn right I am. Biased because I’ve been in love with you since we were sixteen. Since that first day at Team USA, when you were the quietest one in the gym, but somehow the loudest person in my head.”

Azzi huffed a laugh, even though her eyes were still glassy.

“I remember just staring at you,” Paige went on, soft and steady. “You were sitting on the bench, pulling your knee sleeve up like it was nothing, and I swear to God I forgot what words were.”

Azzi shook her head, blushing a little.

“I’ve been yours since then,” Paige said. “I just needed you to catch up.”

Azzi finally looked up and met her eyes.

“I don’t need you to be delicate, Azzi. I’ve never needed that. You’re strong but you’re also the softest person I know. You care about everyone. You leave notes in my bag before games. You remember how I take my coffee even when I don’t. You laugh with your whole face.”

Paige reached up, brushing her fingers gently along Azzi’s jaw.

“You don’t have to be anyone else. You’re already the girl. The only one. My person. The reason I sleep better at night. The reason I play better. The reason I actually learned how to take care of someone who matters.”

Azzi leaned in, forehead against Paige’s chest now letting Paige hold her completely.

And Paige did wrapping her arms tight around her girl, a little taller, a little broader, but somehow still the one clinging for dear life.

“You’re not just enough,” Paige whispered. “You’re everything. Strong, sweet, so damn funny when you don’t even mean to be. You’re the girl who makes me want to do everything better.”

Azzi stayed quiet, letting the words wash over her, letting her body melt into Paige’s warmth.

“I don’t want anyone softer,” Paige said, kissing her temple. “I want you. The real you. The strong one. The one who always picks me up when I’m being a baby. The one who could probably squat me if she wanted.”

Azzi smiled against her. “Probably?”

Paige chuckled. “Okay, definitely. But you let me think I’m stronger, and I appreciate that.”

“You are,” Azzi said softly.

Paige pulled back just enough to look at her. “Maybe a little. But you’re the reason I stay grounded. You’re the reason I breathe easier.”

Azzi leaned in and kissed her slow, warm, the kind of kiss that said thank you without needing words.

When they pulled back, Paige pressed her forehead to Azzi’s again and whispered, “You’re my girl. My princess. The most beautiful one in the whole world. And if I have to remind you every single day, I will.”

“You already do,” Azzi whispered.

“Good,” Paige murmured. “Then let me remind you one more time.”

She pulled Azzi back into her arms easily, securely holding her like something cherished. Azzi’s smaller frame tucked perfectly against her, strong arms wrapped around Paige’s waist, and the soft rhythm of her breathing finally starting to slow.

And in Paige’s arms Azzi didn’t have to feel like she was lacking anything.

She was soft. She was solid. She was Paige’s.

Always had been.

⸻

Azzi stirred slowly as sunlight crept through the curtains. She was warm skin against soft sheets, Paige’s body curled protectively behind her, one arm draped across her waist.

She felt kissed, held, and safe.

Then Paige moved slow, purposeful and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her neck.

Azzi hummed, barely awake. “Paige?”

“Mmhm,” Paige murmured, voice still rough with sleep. “You’re awake?”

“Barely.”

“Perfect.”

Paige shifted, her hand sliding over Azzi’s stomach, holding her closer, and then… her lips began to move again. Not just one kiss. A trail of them. Featherlight and deliberate. Down her neck. Across her shoulder.

“I want you to lie here and just let me love you,” Paige whispered, her voice quiet and steady.

Azzi smiled faintly. “That’s what you’re doing?”

“No,” Paige said softly. “That was sleeping. This is… worship.”

She rolled Azzi gently onto her back, leaning over her with slow reverence, blue eyes locked onto hers.

“I need to show you something,” Paige murmured, brushing Azzi’s curls off her forehead. “I need you to see what I see.”

Azzi blinked, still hazy.

Paige pressed a kiss to her forehead, then her cheek, then the tip of her nose.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispered. “But not just the kind people say because you smile pretty or your hair is perfect — though both are true. You’re beautiful in the kind of way that makes time stop. You’re beautiful in the kind of way that makes me forget who I am unless I’m touching you.”

Her hands pushed up the hem of Azzi’s shirt slow, careful, asking without words.

Azzi let her, let Paige lift the shirt over her head and toss it aside, baring her to the morning light.

Paige’s breath caught.

“You don’t even know,” she whispered, fingers trailing over the line of Azzi’s collarbone, across her chest, down to her stomach. “What this body does to me. What you do to me.”

She kissed Azzi’s shoulder again then lower, to the swell of her chest, murmuring between each kiss.

“This strength,” kiss. “This heart,” kiss. “This skin.”

Azzi trembled under her, already flushed. “Paige…”

But Paige was just getting started.

“You talked about feeling strong but not feminine,” she murmured, mouth now trailing kisses down the center of Azzi’s stomach. “But you have no idea how soft you are to me.”

Her hand slid along Azzi’s side, thumb brushing her ribs. “You make me want to be better. Be gentle. That’s what you do to me. You make me slow down. You make me feel.”

Azzi swallowed hard, her hands resting on Paige’s shoulders, eyes locked onto her like she was trying not to come apart.

“You’re strong, yeah,” Paige whispered, mouth moving lower, her words like prayer. “But strength can be feminine. Strength is feminine. You’re proof of that every time you laugh, every time you love me with those hands that could crush a defender’s chest but hold my face like I’m something precious.”

Azzi’s breath hitched, her legs shifting instinctively as Paige’s lips grazed the inside of her thigh.

“Paige…”

Her voice cracked, shaky, raw.

But Paige only kissed her again, soft and slow and open-mouthed now, until Azzi’s fingers curled in the sheets, her body arching into her touch.

“I love this,” Paige whispered against her skin. “I love you. This body. These legs. These hips. This stomach.”

Her hands moved with the words, mapping her out again like she had all the time in the world.

“You are so feminine, Az. So gentle. So warm. You don’t even have to try.”

Azzi let out a shaky, broken sound a mix between a gasp and a sob and Paige immediately slowed, kissing her inner thigh again, anchoring her.

“I’ve got you,” Paige whispered. “I’m right here.”

Azzi met her eyes, wide and glassy. “You make me feel… so seen.”

Paige crawled back up, kissed her again lips soft, hands steady.

“You are seen. Every inch. Every part. Not just your strength. Not just your play. I see you when you’re sleepy and laughing, when you tuck your feet under me on the couch, when you hold my face after I miss a free throw and tell me I’m still your favorite. That’s softness, Az. That’s you.”

Azzi didn’t respond.

She just pulled Paige into a kiss so deep it stole both their breath.

And when Paige’s hand slid between them, finding skin that was already warm and wanting, Azzi didn’t flinch she opened. Completely. Pulled Paige closer. Let herself fall apart under the hands and mouth and voice of the girl who’d loved her from the very beginning.

Paige took her time. Touched like she was memorizing. Spoke like every word was carved in gold.

And Azzi soft, strong, hers let her.

⸻

Paige could feel it the second Azzi let go.

It wasn’t just the way her body arched or the soft sounds she made though those, God, those would be burned into Paige’s memory forever.

It was something deeper.

It was the way Azzi opened. Slowly. Carefully. Like someone learning how to breathe again. Like someone who’d spent too long holding herself in.

And Paige was there to catch every piece.

She had Azzi laid out beneath her, shirt long gone, skin warm and flushed. Azzi’s curls were sticking to her cheek, her thighs shaking, her breath already uneven.

And she was gorgeous.

Not just hot. Not just strong. Not just impressive.

She was achingly, heart-breakingly, world-shatteringly beautiful.

Paige kissed her stomach slowly, then rested her cheek against it, her hand spreading over Azzi’s hip to anchor her there.

“I wish you could see what I see right now,” Paige whispered.

Azzi blinked down at her, eyes half-lidded, dazed. “I do.”

“No,” Paige said softly, looking up. “You hear me. But you don’t feel it yet. Not the way I do. Not the way I see you.”

She crawled back up, slow, kissing every inch of Azzi’s chest her collarbones, the dip beneath her throat, the side of her neck. Azzi gasped when Paige nipped gently at the sensitive skin there.

“Every part of you,” Paige said, dragging her fingers up Azzi’s ribs, “was built to be loved. And I’m the luckiest person alive that I get to be the one to do it.”

Azzi let out a soft, shaky breath. “Paige…”

Paige cupped her face, leaned in close enough that their noses brushed. “I need you to feel how beautiful you are. Not just believe me. I need it to live in your body. In your bones.”

She kissed her slow, deep the kind of kiss that makes your chest ache, the kind that feels like home and heaven and truth.

And then Paige pulled back just enough to whisper, “Can I show you?”

Azzi nodded wide-eyed, breathless. “Yes.”

That one word was all Paige needed.

She moved lower, settling between Azzi’s thighs, kissing along the soft skin there like she’d waited her whole life for it. Azzi’s legs trembled, and Paige anchored her again with both hands one on her hip, the other stroking gentle circles along her thigh.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” Paige whispered. “You’ve got all this power in you. And then you smile, and I forget how to stand up straight.”

Azzi let out a weak, breathy laugh but it cracked halfway through. Paige looked up, saw the way Azzi’s chest was rising too fast, her lips parted, her hands clutching the blanket beside her.

“You’re already close,” Paige murmured. “You don’t even need much. Just me.”

Azzi nodded again quick, desperate, wrecked already. “Please.”

Paige kissed the inside of her thigh again. “Say it.”

“Please,” Azzi whispered again. “Please, Paige. I need you.”

“You have me,” Paige promised. “You’ve always had me.”

And then she gave it to her. Slow, deep, thorough.

Her mouth moved with intention, not just to make Azzi fall apart — but to build her back up. Paige kissed like she was putting her back together, like every stroke of her tongue, every press of her lips was writing something back into Azzi’s body.

You are beautiful.

You are soft.

You are enough.

Paige could feel the moment it hit when Azzi broke.

It wasn’t just her moan, or the arch of her back, or the sob that tore from her throat.

It was the way she cried.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, her body completely undone, legs trembling, hands searching for something to hold.

Paige was already there, crawling back up, pulling Azzi into her lap, wrapping her arms around her.

“I’ve got you,” Paige whispered. “Let it out, baby. I’ve got you.”

Azzi buried her face in Paige’s neck, still shaking, still crying, still feeling everything.

“You’re so beautiful,” Paige whispered into her hair. “I’m never gonna stop telling you. Not ever. Not until you know it. Not until you feel it everywhere.”

Azzi clung to her, breath hitching, and whispered so softly Paige almost didn’t catch it:

“I believe you.”

Paige froze.

Azzi pulled back, just enough to look her in the eyes. Her cheeks were wet. Her mouth swollen. Her whole body bare and open and glowing.

“I believe you,” she whispered again. “I feel it. All of it.”

Paige cupped her face with both hands, kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. “Good. Because it’s true. It’s always been true.”

Azzi didn’t even answer. She just kissed her back, deep and slow, like gratitude and surrender and love had all wrapped themselves into one unstoppable feeling.

And Paige held her. Let her stay on top, let her body melt against hers, let her sob until the tension turned to laughter, until the tears turned to kisses, until Azzi whispered over and over and over again:

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

And Paige?

She whispered back:

“I know. I feel it. I’ve always felt it.”

#pazzi fics #paige x azzi #pazzi #paige and azzi #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #azzi fudd

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0scarp1astr1 · 15 hours ago

Text

Spoiled Much? (P2)

જ⁀➴ Desc: || Pranking them but telling them you let another man pay for you. ||

P3 ((COMING SOON))

ᯓ★ Featuring: Oscar Piastri, Yuki Tsunoda, Franco Colapinto, Kimi Antonelli, Ollie Bearman, George Russell

ᯓ★ 1x Genre: Humor

ᯓ★ Warning: None

ᯓ★ Requested? Yes

Author Note: Part 2 of Spoiled much, I hope you all enjoy it, these are fun to make, and I am squeezing in as much content as possible for drivers.

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Oscar Piastri

You and Oscar had decided to spend a few quiet days with his family, away from media buzz and cameras. It was peaceful, relaxing — and just what you needed. Plus, it meant bonding time with his mom and sisters… and, well, the perfect opportunity to mess with your tall, calm, sweet-faced boyfriend.

Oscar always told you not to worry about money. “Just tell me what you want, I’ll get it,” he’d say like it was nothing — and while he looked calm on the outside, you knew exactly how to poke the bear. A fake “another guy paid for it” prank? That would definitely stir something.

After a full day of shopping with his mom and sisters, you returned to the house, bags in hand, smile innocent, kiss on his cheek, and his credit card handed back like a dutiful wife.

“Did you have fun?” he asked, pulling you into his side as he kissed your temple.

“Mhm,” you hummed. “Didn’t even have to use much of your money.”

Oscar blinked, glancing at the ten shopping bags in your hand. “That’s... hard to believe,” he muttered.

Right on cue, Hattie chimed in. “Oh come on, Osc! The guy was sooo nice, you should’ve seen him. Just strolled up, all confident, and was like, ‘Don’t worry pretty girl, I’ll take care of it.’”

Edie nodded. “He even told her to pick the next store and said he’d pay again!”

You bit back your laugh, playing your part perfectly. “Some people are just sweet like that,” you said with a shrug.

Oscar stood still for a moment. Processing. And then—

“Okay hold on, WHAT?” he said, completely blindsided. “He paid for you? Why?! No. Nope. That’s not sweet — that’s sketchy. That’s 'I’m trying to take your girl to dinner and dessert' energy.”

He turned to his mom and sisters like a courtroom defense lawyer. “You let him pay? You encouraged this? I’m her boyfriend. Me. Oscar Piastri. I make millions! I can pay for her to buy a store if she wants!”

That was it — you and the girls lost it, bursting out laughing. Oscar blinked around the room like he was the only one not in on the joke… until he spotted your phone angled toward him from the side table.

His shoulders dropped. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You leaned up and kissed him, still giggling. “You’re so dramatic when you think another man’s trying to buy my affection.”

“Because he was!” Oscar said, exasperated as he turned to walk upstairs.

You followed, juggling your bags. “Come on! You have to admit that was hilarious.”

“I don’t think I trust you on TikTok anymore,” he muttered, disappearing into your shared vacation room.

“I love pranking you!” you called after him.

“I noticed. Especially after the flour incident. And when you made me think someone broke into our Monaco flat,” he said with a shake of his head.

You smirked. “Lando was in on that one. You nearly whacked him with the bat.”

Oscar chuckled under his breath. “Shouldn’t prank me about break-ins — I’m trying to keep you safe, not turn Monaco into a crime scene.”

You flopped onto the bed, bags landing beside you. “So I take it this means war?”

Oscar shrugged, kicking off his shoes. “Just know… I’m not always as chill as I look. One day, I’ll get you back.”

You raised a brow. “Since when do you get in on the prank wars?”

He grinned slightly, slipping under the covers.

“One day, you’ll find out.”

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Yuki Tsunoda

It was a sunny afternoon in Tokyo, where you and Yuki had gone to visit his family and enjoy a break from the F1 madness. Between temple visits, catching up with his childhood friends, and eating your weight in street food, you were having the time of your life. Yuki was extra cuddly on this trip too—maybe it was the home vibes, or maybe he just loved showing you off. Either way, it was perfect.

But perfect wasn’t complete without chaos. And that chaos? A prank.

So when he offered to wait in the car while you ran into the local store for some drinks and snacks, you accepted with a sweet smile and his card in hand. You already knew what you were going to do.

When you returned with a bag of goodies and that signature innocent grin, you handed the card back to him casually. “Didn’t need it after all,” you said, getting into the car.

Yuki blinked. “Why? Did they not take cards?”

You shook your head. “No, actually… this guy behind me in line paid. Said something about a beautiful girl like me not needing to pay for her own stuff.” You said it so calmly, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Yuki sat there. Processing.

Then he blinked again. “Wait. Who?!”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, some guy. He was nice. Complimented my outfit. Said I had a pretty smile.”

Yuki’s jaw dropped like you just told him AlphaTauri was being renamed “Team Random Guy.” “HE SAID WHAT?!”

You looked out the window like it was no big deal. “I mean, it was sweet, really. People can be really generous.”

Yuki turned to you fully. “That’s not generosity! That’s flirting! That’s trying to steal my girlfriend in 4K!”

You bit your lip, barely holding back laughter as he kept going.

“And you just let him?! What was I supposed to do, huh? Sit here like a chump while you got sugar-daddied by Mr. Free Snacks?! I could’ve been in there karate-chopping someone!”

You covered your mouth to hide the giggle.

Yuki pointed a dramatic finger at you. “You are not allowed to be this pretty in public. New rule. Hoodie, sunglasses, ninja mode.”

“I was wearing sweatpants and your hoodie,” you said.

“EVEN WORSE,” he shouted. “He knew it wasn’t even yours! That man paid while you wore MY CLOTHES?!”

You finally broke, bursting into laughter and pointing to your phone in the dashboard mount. “Yuki… it was a prank.”

He followed your finger, saw the red light, and slumped into the seat. “Oh my god… I thought I was gonna have to fight someone. Like, actual punches.”

You leaned over and kissed his cheek. “But you were so cute and protective.”

He narrowed his eyes. “No. No compliments. I’m not falling for your sweet talk.”

“Come onnn,” you teased.

“I hope that guy steps on a Lego.”

“He doesn’t exist, Yuki.”

“I still hope he steps on a Lego. Just in case.”

You giggled as he started the car again, muttering something under his breath in Japanese.

“Love you,” you said sweetly.

He sighed, grabbing your hand.

“Yeah yeah. Love you too. But next time I get to prank you, and I’m going full chaos.”

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Franco Colapinto

You and Franco had a nice dinner out planned—a little place tucked away on a quiet street, somewhere he promised had “the best pasta in the city, I swear on my helmet.” The two of you were tucked into a cozy corner, laughing over shared appetizers, when he suddenly leaned in and whispered, “Mi amor, I need to use the bathroom. If the bill comes, just use my card, okay?”

You nodded sweetly, already sliding his card from his wallet like the loyal girlfriend you were. The moment he disappeared down the hallway, though, the phone was set up—tucked sneakily between the salt shaker and wine bottle, camera rolling. You pulled out your own card and paid with a knowing grin.

A few minutes later, Franco returned, hair slightly tousled, sleeves pushed up like he had just gotten into a brawl with the hand dryer. “Did the bill come?”

“Yeah,” you said casually, handing back his card. “But I didn’t need it. A gentleman saw me sitting alone and paid for it. Said no beautiful woman should have to pay for her own dinner.”

Franco blinked. Twice. Then very slowly sat down in the chair across from you.

“…A gentleman?” he repeated.

“Mmhm.” You sipped your drink nonchalantly. “He insisted. Said something about it being tragic for a gorgeous girl to be left alone for even a minute.”

Franco leaned forward, brows knitting. “Wait wait wait. So a man… paid for my girlfriend's dinner? While she was sitting here looking pretty, so he sat… in my seat?”

You nodded, pretending not to notice his rising stress.

“And you let him?! Did you tell him you’re with me?”

You tapped your chin. “I think I said I was seeing someone… briefly. Might’ve been hard to hear with the music.”

“Dios mío,” he muttered, rubbing his face. “Was he older? Did he look rich?”

“Definitely older. Possibly owned a yacht.”

Franco sat back, blinking at the ceiling like he was trying not to cry. “So now I have competition with a yacht guy? At a pasta place I brought you to?!”

You bit your lip, struggling not to laugh as he threw his arms up.

“He just… paid for you? What was I doing?! Washing my hands like an idiot while some James Bond wannabe was out here stealing my girl with his wallet?”

You pointed silently to the phone recording between the bottles of olive oil. He followed your finger, then froze.

“Oh no…”

You burst out laughing as Franco buried his face in his hands. “You’re evil,” he groaned. “You actually had me questioning if I should challenge this guy to a duel.”

You giggled, reaching for his hand. “But it was so funny, baby!”

He peeked through his fingers. “You know what’s funny? How much flour is going to be in your hair next time I bake something.”

You raised a brow. “You don’t bake.”

“I’ll learn. For revenge.”

You leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Love you, Franco.”

He grinned.

“Love you too, mi amor… but your days are numbered.”

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Kimi Antonelli

You and Kimi were deep into a study date at a quiet café—books spread out across the table, highlighters scattered like confetti, and Kimi hunched over his notes like he was preparing for a championship instead of a history exam. His focus was intense, brows furrowed, jaw set, the occasional frustrated sigh escaping when something didn’t make sense.

“I’m starving,” you whispered, nudging his arm gently.

Without even looking up, he slid some cash across the table toward you. “Get us something. Surprise me. Just… not tuna.”

You grinned, taking the money. “Got it, no tuna. Maybe anchovies?”

His only response was a quick side-eye and a very clear don’t test me expression. You stood with a soft laugh, heading to the counter. But, of course, instead of paying with the cash he gave you, you slid it into your hoodie pocket and paid with your own card, mentally thanking your brain for remembering to set up your phone camera before you left the table.

When you came back, two drinks in hand and a little plate of snacks, Kimi was still buried in his book, scribbling notes at lightning speed.

“You got it?” he asked absently, finally glancing up.

“Mhm.” You placed the drinks and snacks on the table. “Funny thing though… some guy at the counter offered to pay for me. Said no pretty girl should have to pay for her own coffee.”

Kimi blinked slowly.

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” you said casually, sipping your drink. “He was really sweet about it, said I looked too stressed to worry about paying. Even offered to pay for your drink too. Said he hopes my boyfriend is as nice as he is.”

Kimi set his pen down, his full attention now on you. “I—Sorry, what? A guy paid for you? At a café? While you were on a date with me?”

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.

“And you accepted it?!”

You shrugged innocently. “Didn’t seem polite to decline.”

Kimi leaned back in his seat, running a hand down his face. “So now there’s some mystery guy out there thinking he’s your knight in shining armor? Great. I’m competing with a man who buys snacks at cafés.”

You tilted your head. “Are you…jealous?”

“No.” He paused. “Maybe. Yes. A little. I’m studying Napoleon and losing you to an oat milk cappuccino and charm.”

At that, you couldn’t help it—you laughed, pointing at the phone angled between your notebooks. “It was a prank.”

Kimi followed your finger, narrowed his eyes at the phone, and let out a slow sigh. “You’ve been spending way too much time on TikTok again.”

“You love it,” you grinned, nudging him with your knee.

He shook his head but couldn’t hold back the smile tugging at his lips. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered.

“Lucky? I’m gorgeous.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem,” he mumbled, grabbing his pen again. “That and the fact that now I have to find a way to prank you back in the middle of midterms.”

You leaned in with a smirk. “Bring it on, Antonelli.”

He looked up, smirk matching yours.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, bella.”

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Ollie Bearman

It had been a chill day at the paddock—at least, as chill as things could get during a race weekend. Ollie had been doing his usual: juggling meetings, debriefs, and pretending he wasn’t texting you between every other lap review. You’d been wandering around, catching up with people, grabbing snacks, and planning—most importantly—your next prank.

Which is where Esteban Ocon came in.

You cornered him earlier with a grin and said, “Want to help me mess with Ollie?”

“Always,” he replied without hesitation.

So now, you were strolling casually back to the paddock beside Esteban, snack bag in hand, your phone tucked in a subtle angle to record the chaos that was about to unfold. Ollie stood a little down the way, chatting with one of the engineers until he spotted you both. His face lit up—until he noticed the smug expression on Esteban’s face.

“What did I miss?” Ollie asked, brow already raised as you approached.

“Oh nothing,” Esteban said casually. “Just had to save your girlfriend from being hit on by a guy at the snack tent.”

You blinked up innocently. “He was sweet, though. Said no girl that pretty should pay for her own snacks.”

Ollie froze mid-step. “Wait—what?”

Esteban kept the bit going flawlessly. “Yeah, proper gentleman. Paid for her food and everything. Honestly, I felt a bit awkward just standing there.”

You nodded, biting your lip like you were holding back a laugh. “He even asked if I was single.”

Ollie looked between the two of you, his jaw slowly dropping. “Hang on—you let some random guy pay for you? And Esteban just stood there and let it happen?!”

Esteban raised his hands defensively. “I didn’t want to start a fight over chips, mate.”

You added, “He said I had really nice eyes. And a radiant energy.”

“Okay, what is this—The Bachelor: Paddock Edition?!” Ollie blinked, looking incredibly betrayed. “I’ve been doing tire analysis for thirty minutes and you were out there getting free snacks and compliments like it’s a rom-com?”

Esteban couldn’t hold it anymore. He started laughing first, and you quickly followed, pointing to the phone that was still subtly recording.

Ollie looked over, eyes narrowing. “Oh my god. I knew this was suspicious. You two are evil.”

“I prefer creative,” you giggled, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

He sighed dramatically. “I can’t believe you teamed up with Esteban for this.”

Esteban slapped him on the back. “She promised me a free coffee. Worth it.”

Ollie pointed between you both. “This means war. I don’t know when, I don’t know how, but you better sleep with one eye open.”

You smiled sweetly. “You still love me though.”

He rolled his eyes with a smile, pulling you into a quick hug. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Esteban winked at Ollie. “Next time, I’ll tell the guy she’s married to some old guy in Formula One.”

Ollie groaned.

“That makes it sound so much worse.”

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George Russell

Race weekend meant chaos, caffeine, and press obligations. You’d been hanging around the paddock, chatting with familiar faces, and were supposed to grab a snack while George was finishing up a quick engineering meeting. Nothing fancy—just a little bite to hold you over.

Toto had spotted you on the way to catering and, being the gentleman he always was, insisted on paying for you. You initially said no, but Toto waved it off like it was nothing. "George doesn’t mind. It all comes out of Mercedes’ budget somehow."

But you were struck with a spark of inspiration. A prank. A perfectly subtle, paddock-appropriate prank.

Toto was more than game.

So, when George came striding out of the garage looking far too confident and far too clean for someone in motorsport, he found you waiting with a snack and a smirk—and Toto standing nearby with the look of a man who was absolutely about to commit to the bit.

"Hey, love," George smiled, brushing a kiss to your temple. "Get everything sorted?"

Toto gave a casual shrug. "Well, yes. Though I’m not sure how I feel about some random man flirting with your girlfriend while paying for her lunch."

George blinked. "Wait—what?"

You nodded, biting into your snack, cool as ever. "Yeah, he was sweet. Told me I shouldn’t have to pay for myself. Said a pretty face like mine deserved better."

George’s entire posture changed. "I—hold on—what guy? Where was I? I was literally gone for ten minutes!"

Toto, somehow keeping the most impressive poker face ever, added: "Tall guy. Nice watch. Little too confident if you ask me. He even winked."

George looked between you both, trying to compute. "And you just—let him pay?! Toto, you're the boss! You didn’t say anything?!"

"I didn’t want to embarrass him," Toto said seriously. "Maybe George should be more present next time."

Your face was turning red from holding in your laughter, especially when George turned to you in complete disbelief. "You let some random man just... fund your lunch like it was a date?!"

You shrugged. "Free food is free food."

George looked like he was mentally filing divorce papers you hadn’t even signed yet. "Absolutely not. You’re banned from snack stands without supervision."

At that point, Toto lost it—chuckling deep in his chest as he clapped George on the back.

"She’s joking, George. It was me."

George paused. Blinked. "...Wait, you paid?"

"Yes."

"And the flirting?"

You pointed to Toto. "All him."

George’s face dropped into his hands as you finally burst out laughing. "You two are unbelievable."

"You’re just upset someone else got to call me pretty first today," you teased.

He peered at you through his fingers. "That’s not true. I called you pretty this morning. Before breakfast."

Toto smirked. "Guess you’ll have to step it up."

George pointed at you. "You are never teaming up with him again."

You grinned, slipping your arm around his. "No promises, Mr. Russell."

George shook his head as the three of you walked off.

"I’m switching snack duty to Kimi next time. He wouldn’t emotionally sabotage me like this."

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#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #f1 fluff #formula 1 fanfic #oscar piastri x fem!reader #yuki tsunoda x reader #franco colapinto x female reader #kimi antonelli x reader #ollie bearman x reader #george russell x reader #f1 headcanons #f1 one shot #f1 fiction

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thetadispatcher · 2 days ago

Text

Nines glanced at the other android, giving only a half hearted shrug in response to the criticism. "Humans have done far worse to each other in the pursuit of far less valuable knowledge." At least he wasn't suggesting to murder a town or family due to rumors he might find something there.

John merely shook his head at the new unit, it was still shocking to him how stubborn the RKs could be when it came to deviating, but it made sense as one wouldn't want their deviant hunter turning so easily. Although it would be interesting to see if the RK900 would take longer to accept his deviancy then the RK800, and just what event would finally cause Nines to acknowledge it.

"The information might be useful to some androids as well, ones that want to go back to being machines. Mainly the suspect of a recent string of android murders, might be what is needed to prevent them from tampering and picking apart anymore brains." Nines wasn't surprised some androids didn't take to being deviant as well as others, he just hadn't expected one to turn to picking apart other deviants in hopes of finding a cure to it so quickly.

"I guess bein' stubborn ain't so bad sometimes, 'nd it gives me a unique way to help out those who weren't as lucky." Sure he had his own quirks caused by the mistreatment, but he was more then happy to use his experiences and what he'd learned to help out those who had suffered as well. It was nice to see them start to find themselves as they became more confident, learning not all humans were as cruel as the ones who owned them helped quite a bit.

"Oh boy, do I. One time he got mad at a tire, 'nd decided he'd teach it a lesson by throwin' it. Well, as everyone knows rubber bounces, so of course it shot right back into 'is face, busted up his nose real good. I was the only one lookin' at him so naturally I became the focus of his rage, he chewed me out like I did it." He rolled his eyes with a quiet scoff. "Like I have Jedi mind powers or somethin'." He brought his hand up to motion to his head. "Nah man, I'm actually king of the tires, show some respect."

"I understand, it is a part of being cybernetic that comes naturally to most. I am doing my best to acclimate to using it more frequently." Dan accepted it was just something he'd finally have to get used to, it would just take awhile as it wasn't something he'd experienced regularly in his four years of life.

"But I do appreciate you understanding my personal preferences. If you have to connect with me, a bit of warning will help." It was usually the shock of the connection that he had issue with, he could handle the slight discomfort of connection if he was aware of it.

"One less to deal with is fine with me." Dan smiled slightly, sure some of the androids could get a little annoying, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. But he could still make jokes about it, the other androids knew he didn't actually mean it.

Nines watched Rook quietly, choosing to take in what he was hearing rather then react to it.

"Well, at least you had fun." Dan said as he entered the room, deciding he'd address Nines and his lack of empathy once everyone left.

Bishop didn't acknowledge the smile, seeing no reason to waste his energies on appearances. His counterpart was doing enough of it with the way he was glaring at both.

"You aren't any better than those humans who brutalize androids."

Of course, that didn't mean he had anything resembling empathy. But it was a sign that perhaps the matter hit close to home for his copycat.

The agent didn't appreciate the irony of it.

"It wasn't right." Rook repeated, "I'm glad he couldn’t bend you in the end. You're a fighter and a survivor, but I guess we already knew that. I bet you have some stories to tell."

They weren't the happiest stories, she was sure, but she knew what it felt like to deal with a person bent on tearing her apart without any chance to get away. Rook definitely saw a bit of herself in Ellis, much like the reason why Willow likely felt so inclined to help Kelvin out.

The same sentiment didn't fully extend to Dan for the cyborg, however, though it was nothing personal.

"I see." Willow tucked her hand behind her back. "While I don't mind chatting as my current form allows, I don't think I could ever accept fully giving up this form of communication. It comes natural to me, even more if multiple subjects are involved."

Either way, she was happy to take the brownies with her. Willow carefully collected as many as she could fit in the container. They would last her for a good while.

"I will however stick to verbal communication in the future, if that's what you're comfortable with."

"Sure, we can help out with that." Rook replied, "But first, let me get one annoying twat out of your hair."

Bishop looked over as Rook marched over from the kitchen.

"Come on, Bishop, say goodbye to your new weird friend so we can go home." Rook briefly looked at the copycat. "You know, we killed the guy who made you."

Bishop almost looked happy to hear that, the android not as much.

"That isn't going to last."

"I know, but it felt nice." She gave a shrug, "Hurry up, bitch."

"How frightful. You're letting a little girl boss you around?"

"Don't think I can't twist your bolts too, tin can!"

Bishop smirked as he stood up. "Well, I better be on my way now. This was an interesting experiment for certain."

#kingedbishop

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lazysoulwriter · 23 hours ago

Text

curl check, babe. - pedro pascal. ── .✦

requested! thank you. content: fluff, domestic softness, curly hair appreciation, gf!reader, some playful banter, just Pedro being loved on.

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You’re lying in bed, Pedro half-asleep next to you with his head tucked into your neck and one leg casually flung over your hips like a golden retriever. You’re absentmindedly combing your fingers through his hair—he’s always liked that, says it makes him melt—and that’s when you really look at it.

You squint.

Then lift your hand to tug a curl near his temple and watch it bounce a little when you let go.

“Wait a second,” you murmur.

Pedro hums into your collarbone. “Mmm? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. But you’ve got curls. Like—real ones.”

He groans, already knowing this tone in your voice. “Don’t start,” he warns sleepily.

But you’re already sitting up, eyes glinting. “No, no, Pedro. You’ve got wavy-curly hair. And you’ve just been… brushing it out and letting it frizz?”

“Excuse you,” he says, propping himself up on one elbow, “this hair’s been getting me compliments for decades.”

“Not from curl people.”

You hop out of bed, gathering your curl creams, leave-in conditioner, diffuser, and wide-tooth comb like a woman on a mission. Pedro watches you with a look of equal parts suspicion and adoration.

“This feels like a trap.”

“It’s a blessing, Pascal,” you counter, already spritzing his hair damp. “Now tilt your head.”

He rolls his eyes but obeys. “If you fry my hair I’m calling my agent.”

“You don’t have enough hair to fry, Pedro.”

“Ouch.”

You’re grinning now, scrunching his curls gently in your hands, applying products with the same care you use on your own routine. He’s letting you, mostly because he likes the way your face softens when you’re focused. And because he’s a sucker for touch. And you. Always you.

“Okay, now stay there. Don’t move,” you instruct, attaching the diffuser to your hair dryer.

He closes his eyes and sighs. “What even is a diffuser?”

“God, you’re so straight sometimes.”

“I’m literally letting you style me.”

“Touché.”

You dry his hair gently, curling pieces with your fingers, letting your nails drag along his scalp just a little because you know it makes him shiver. When you finally finish, Pedro blinks up at you, squinting.

“Done?” he asks.

You hand him the mirror.

He stares.

“Holy shit.”

You try not to beam. “Right?”

His hair’s fully fluffed now—voluminous, wavy curls soft and defined and bouncing just slightly when he moves. It gives him a whole different vibe: younger, more relaxed. A little chaotic, in the sexiest way.

“Why do I look like a curly-haired Greek god?” he mutters, genuinely in awe.

“Because you are, baby,” you smirk, tugging gently on a ringlet. “You’ve been hiding this from the world.”

He turns his head side to side, posing dramatically. “I feel like I should be in a boy band. Or a beach commercial. Or, like… the hot dad in a coming-of-age movie.”

“Pedro, you already are the hot dad in a coming-of-age movie.”

He looks at you, grin soft and eyes warmer than ever. “You’re unreal, you know that?”

Then he pauses, eyes lighting up with a new thought. “Wait till Sarah sees this.”

“Oh, she’s gonna scream,” you say confidently.

And she does. So do Oscar, Bella, and like… half the internet when he casually shows up on a red carpet two days later with you in his arm and the curls fully unleashed.

Everyone’s obsessed. You were the blueprint.

He just lets people wonder what changed, eyes crinkling as he pulls you closer every time someone compliments it. “It’s all her,” he says, every single time.

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✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

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iitslera · 3 days ago

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mon petit monde ✶ CL16

english isn’t my first language, just fluff here

── ✦ ──

The sunlight filters through the apartment curtains, painting golden rays across the room. Beside you, Charles is still asleep, his hair tousled and one hand stretched out toward you, as if even in sleep he needs to make sure you're still there.

But what really wakes him is the high-pitched little voice coming from the hallway. “Daaaddyyyy,” she says, dragging out the last syllable. “Daddy, wake up!” The door creaks open slightly, and there she is. Jules. Wearing her Ferrari pajamas, her curls a messy halo around her face, and holding her favorite stuffed toy—the one Charles bought her the day she was born. Her face is glowing with excitement, and in her tiny hands she carries a folded piece of paper.

“It’s your day!” she yells, running toward the bed.Charles opens his eyes just in time to catch her as she throws herself onto him. Their laughter fills the room. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice still hoarse from sleep. “Yes! Because you're the best daddy in the world!” Jules answers confidently, planting a loud kiss on his cheek.

You sit on the other side of the bed, watching them. And there's something in the way Charles looks at her—like he can’t quite believe he ever lived without her—that tightens your chest with tenderness.“Did you make this?” he asks, pointing at the drawing still clutched in her small hand. She nods proudly. “It’s mommy, Leo, you, and me… with your red car!” she explains. Charles throws you an amused glance, and you shrug.

“Why don’t we let daddy get ready while we prepare breakfast?” you suggest, and Jules doesn’t hesitate for a second to agree. Soon, the apartment is filled with the smell of pancakes, fresh fruit, scrambled eggs, and sizzling bacon. Jules watches you from her highchair, picking at some fruit while coloring a new drawing. “Is this a Ferrari?” Charles asks once he joins you both in the kitchen. “No! It’s a McLaren!” she yells, and the two of you burst into laughter. When breakfast is over, you lift Jules from her chair to help her down, but not before leaning in to whisper something in her ear.

At first, she listens very seriously, her little hands on your shoulders—and then nods with the same kind of enthusiasm she has when you offer her ice cream. She hops down clumsily, laughter sparkling in her eyes, and runs down the hallway with those still-awkward, wobbly steps she hasn’t quite mastered yet.

Charles watches her disappear, then turns to you. He walks over with that soft expression only you know. It’s not the face of the racer or the idol—it’s the face of a man who has learned to love with patience and to live more gently since becoming a father.

He kisses you slowly. His lips on yours, warm. Real. “Thank you for making me a dad. Thank you for her.”

You’re quiet for a second. Because those words—so simple, so true—hit you right in the center of your chest. You smile, because you know—without a shadow of a doubt—that no trophy, no circuit, no win will ever compare to the love he feels for the little girl with the clear eyes who calls him "daddy."

And then, she returns.

Jules appears carrying a box wrapped in red paper printed with tiny Ferrari race cars. She stumbles a little under the weight but refuses any help. She places it on the table with a triumphant, “Ta-daaaa!” that makes her giggle at herself. “It’s for you, daddy,” she says in a tiny voice, like it’s a very important secret. Charles sits, intrigued, and begins unwrapping the gift carefully. He lifts the lid, and the first thing he sees is a photo—you, holding a pregnancy test. Your eyes swollen from crying—happy tears, fearful ones, all of it. Beneath it, there’s more. A thick photo album, bound in soft leather. He opens it.

First page: the blurry image of an ultrasound. Then, him with his hands on your belly, mentally rehearsing how he’d tell the world he was going to be a father. A handwritten letter from you, your handwriting just a little shaky: "From that day on, I wasn’t sure whether you were more in love with me… or with the baby."

There are photos of him attending ultrasounds—even if just over video call—of sleepless nights assembling her crib, of the first time he held her, eyes filled with tears. An entire page is dedicated to his first podium after becoming a dad. The note you stuck to the steering wheel before the race read: “Your daughter is racing today, too.” Charles flips through the album slowly. He doesn’t speak. He can’t. And when he reaches the last page—a recent photo of the three of you, lying in bed, Jules asleep across his chest between you— a silent tear escapes him.

“You were always there,” you say softly, your fingers tracing the back of his neck. “Even when you thought you weren’t. You were always there, Charles.” He closes the album carefully, like he’s protecting something sacred.

“Thank you for reminding me.” And when Jules climbs back onto his lap, he holds her like the entire world fits in his arms. And honestly—it does.

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holymotherofwmps-the-reblogging · 2 days ago

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There are many wrong ways to portray female characters that Hollywood does.

But carrying a 'weapon' does make you feel safer and more likely to act 'main character', not letting other people intimidate you and being the sassy cool person you usually keep in your head.

For me it was nor dog nor big object but self defense classes. Incredible how powerful you feel about yourself and the world when you spend an hour and a half twice a week fighting off men and winning. Yes it's different in the streets but confidence also makes a difference on how you approach situations. If someone tries to be intimidating you start thinking about the weakness of the human body (which are scarily all over) and subtly moving to be ready to fuck around, I can tell you, a part of the other party's brain gets it.

Also if you are a woman you should yell at a man while you're wrong at least once. To get used to wielding power on command, not always waiting to be right... because the other party often doesn't and because you should limit yourself not let other limit you - if you do this consistently though you are just an asshole.

The downside is that assholes will just pick on weaker women. The upside is that it won't be you and if you want, you can help them. The downside is that many women for some reason (society points I think) will defend the asshole. The upside is that you can give no fuck because if it's true that we cannot save everyone it's also true that we should save someone anyway and just as well that we can't save who doesn't want to be saved.

i think that little study they did where they found that pedestrians who crossed a crosswalk while holding a large, heavy object got hit by cars less is broadly applicable to many other scenarios

#feminism #I guess #big object #big dog #bid ego

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nottswitch · 2 days ago

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꒰— BUSY WOMAN ꒱

꒰ summary ꒱ no matter how many times theo said you were the exception, you found yourself to be a sad part of the majority. wait, sad? who said that?

꒰ content/tw ꒱ theo nott x reader; 18+ mdni, some sexual implications, angst if you squint, a bit of gaslighting/general toxicity, alcohol, cursing; theo is a player, reader has a spine

꒰ word count ꒱ 2.8k

꒰ note ꒱ for i had a strong need for a reader who knows her worth, i simply decided to make it happen. felt insanely good writing this, and i hope you’re going to feel equally as good reading it!

It was a little ironic, you thought, how this was the exact situation you’d laugh at yourself for ending up in just a few months ago. You were so confident, so sure of yourself, having sworn off players, fuckboys and the likes of them until the day you die. Yet there you were, in the middle of a Slytherin party, watching Theodore Nott, your boyfriend of three months, crowd an awfully willing and giggling girl against the wall. His hand was resting just inches away from her arm, and her hand was touching his shoulder in a manner that couldn’t be considered just friendly even by the daftest of the world.

You’d be a fool to say you didn’t expect this. But fuck, apparently you were a fool, because you genuinely believed… You shook your head, getting yourself rid of the annoying little thoughts that started swarming your head like hungry flies flocking to a fresh, steaming pile of shit. That’s what Theo’s words had always been, evidently.

You took a sip of Firewhiskey; it was strong, tickled your throat just right, and settled in your stomach like a hot blanket, providing a small sense of comfort to your tumultuous inner world. Settling down on the armrest of a random chair, you silently observed the scene on the other side of the Common Room. Theo leaned in, whispering something into the girl’s ear – probably something cheesy in Italian, since that made them, no exceptions, fall at his feet like dominoes.

A huff escaped your lips, an alcohol-induced breath of air that confirmed it – months ago, you looked exactly like that girl, and every other girl, for that matter. You fell for his irresistible, disarming charm, for the sweetest honey that spilled from his lips in the form of promises and confessions in the middle of the night, for the gentle, cotton-soft touches of his fingertips against your flushed skin. You fell hard, thinking he was going to catch you, just like he assured you again and again and again. But when you hit the ground, you only found ice-cold concrete, littered with cutting shards of shattered expectations.

⟡

“Of course you will.”

You rolled your eyes, the sarcasm leaving your mouth without any second thought. Of course, Theo would say that, of course. Exactly what a player says whenever he needs to get a girl number forty five into his bed.

Theo seemed to have read these exact thoughts in your incredulous expression; he took a step forward, placing a hand on your waist. It was a warm, gentle touch, different from what you had seen before, when you’d inevitably stumble upon him making out with yet another… someone in a darkened corridor. And you hated thinking that – you hated realising that he was, indeed, different with you, even if it was a facade.

“I promise,” he repeated, keeping his voice quiet and confident, but even through the perfect mask, you could see it – a small flicker of vulnerability, barely there but there nonetheless. “I’ll treat you right, tesoro. I will.”

“How can I trust you?” You sighed, grabbing his hand and slowly but firmly taking it off your waist – however pleasant, you deemed the touch unnecessary, since it was making great work of skewing your perception. Theo’s fingers clenched in the air, but obediently stayed by his side.

“I’d take an Unbreakable Vow, but I don’t think you’d appreciate it.” He offered you a weak smile, but his eyes were visibly darting around, searching your face for something – understanding, acceptance, trust, perhaps? His hand twitched at his hip, eager to touch you again, but he didn’t dare lift it – a small act you couldn’t help but appreciate at the moment.

“You’re right, I wouldn’t.” You couldn’t hold back a laugh – he really was a bit dramatic, and yet, his every word was filled with calm confidence, like he was completely sure about everything he was swearing to you. “Guess I’ll just have to wing it, huh?”

“Guess you will,” Theo answered with a chuckle of his own, though his expression went back to serious the next moment. “You don’t have to trust me right now, but I’ll make you, okay? I promise.”

⟡

You believed him then. Despite yourself, despite your strong conviction that you had it all figured out, that you saw right through his charming antics – you believed him. And now, watching him flirt with that random, unknown girl without as much as an ounce of shame, you realised it was in vain. And strangely, you felt… nothing.

You should’ve been enraged, right? You should’ve been angry, should’ve stormed right over there, pulled him away from the girl and made a loud, explosive, emotional scene. But you just didn’t want to. It felt wrong, not wanting. You loved Theo, or at least you thought you did. However, witnessing him break the very promise that made you give your relationship a chance had you reconsidering the foundation of your feelings.

Minutes ticked by, Firewhiskey made its way down your throat in slow, calculated sips, the bass of the party made the floor vibrate. And yet, you made no attempt to move from your place on the chair’s armrest. Theo was still there, looking dashingly handsome and making the girl giggle and blush and twirl her hair around her dainty finger. You were still watching, thoughts were swirling inside your head like little tornadoes, but somehow, you felt a lot calmer now. Your mind went from messy and hectic to steady and composed, and it felt… nice.

In the past, you thought moving on from love would be hard, gut-wrenching and heartbreakingly painful. That’s what everyone said. That’s what it was supposed to feel like. They were all wrong, you realised. Well, maybe not. Maybe moving on from real love was exactly like that. But what you felt for Theo didn’t seem like real love anymore. Not when he acted like he forgot about your entire existence the moment he noticed a pretty girl somewhere in his proximity.

Apparently, Theo had a sixth sense. He must’ve felt your eyes on him – and your gaze wasn’t even intense; it was absentminded, as if it just happened to land on him while you were surveying the room. You saw his expression change in real time, from the flirty smirk he had been wearing for the last ten minutes to the slight hint of annoyance evident in the crease on his forehead, to then quiet resignation and a small, sheepish smile tugging the corners of his lips up. He excused himself to the very disappointed-looking girl and started making his way towards you, wading through the pool of bodies swaying to the beats of some generic pop song.

Your eyes never left him as he approached. They weren’t stormy, didn’t hold any hidden emotional turmoil, since there was none – neither in your heart nor in your mind. You took the last sip from your glass and placed it on the coffee table next to the chair, every movement precise despite the tipsiness coursing through your body from the Firewhiskey. Maybe the fact that you were already settled on a decision diluted the alcohol in your bloodstream. Maybe you just grew out of being a lighthead.

“Hi.”

Theo’s voice was quiet, almost too quiet to be heard over the deafening music. He tried placing his hand on your thigh, like he usually would whenever you were together, but you shifted away from his touch. His jaw ticked, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think a flicker of hurt flashed through his face. The awkward smile disappeared completely; he was now serious, just like on that night he promised to make you trust him. What a shitshow that was.

“Look—” he started, the words to explain himself already at the tip of his tongue. But you didn’t really need to hear them, so you cut him off before he could continue.

“Spare me, Theo. Spare us both, actually.” You placed a hand on his chest, pushing him back just slightly – he was standing too close to you for someone who couldn’t even remember he had a girlfriend a couple minutes ago. You quickly realised you shouldn’t have touched him in any way, since he immediately interpreted it as an olive branch, his hand clasping around yours.

“No, I won’t spare us,” he muttered lowly, his eyes briefly skimming from left to right to see if anyone was listening in. It was unnecessary – the music was too loud for anyone to hear you unless they were literally in your faces. Then, he leaned in, closing the distance you had just created. “I know what you’re thinking right now, tesoro, and I can’t have you thinking that.”

Your eyes were rolled before he could even finish the sentence. You didn’t expect anything less dismissive than this, and still, he managed to surprise you.

“No, Theo, no. Don’t even go there,” you said, somehow managing to wriggle your hand out of his grasp. His followed, trying to chase yours, but as soon as you hid it behind your back, he stilled, realising he’d be making a scene in the middle of the Common Room. “We came to this party together. You went off alone, acting single, flirting with another girl. Seems pretty transparent to me.”

It was Theo’s turn to roll his eyes, as if he was offended by the mere fact that you not only noticed his escapades, but commented on it as well, making him look like a fool. He was a fool, and maybe deep down he was also aware of the fact, but he wouldn’t admit it to you. And honestly, you didn’t expect him to. You knew he would deflect, you knew he would find excuse after excuse just to get out of this situation consequence-free. You had had time to mull over it while you sat there, watching him commit emotional fraud right in front of your eyes, and at that point, you simply didn’t care.

“You don’t get it, tesoro,” Theo muttered, still up close in your personal space, which you immediately rectified by leaning back. He gritted his teeth in frustration at your continuous attempts to keep you both as apart as possible, but continued. “That girl? She means nothing, okay? You know you’re the only one who matters to me. I know you do.”

His eyes – they were stormy as he gazed into yours. They were dark even in the flashing lights of the party, usually blue as the ocean, but now deep, almost black from how much his pupils were dilated. But as you looked into them, you didn’t feel the same shiver going down your spine, you didn’t feel the flutter in your belly that made his presence so exciting, so madly intoxicating, you didn’t feel your heart speeding up. It was rather comical, you thought, how quickly your love dulled down after you saw Theo easily dismissing every promise he had ever made to you when he thought you weren’t watching.

“Theo.” You looked at him with an eyebrow raised, in a way a mother would look at her son who tried convincing her he didn’t eat the cake while his mouth was covered in icing sugar. “It might seem shocking, but it doesn’t actually matter if she’s nothing to you.”

Theo’s brows creased together, and you could see he was at the ready to retort, his lips parting.

“You were flirting with her. Plain and simple. You were, and don’t even try to deny it, I believe my own eyes,” you continued talking without giving him the opportunity to speak. “And what did you promise when we just started dating?”

Theo’s lips sealed shut, and he looked away, catching the hint. He knew exactly what you were talking about. He promised to make you trust him, and that included putting a stop to going after every frilly skirt in sight. Or any skirt, or jeans, or anything at all that was another person, anything that meant he could be interested in someone else.

“I promised…” he muttered under his breath, each word leaving his mouth like a heavy weight. Not because he was genuinely remorseful, but for a much simpler reason – he hated admitting to his shortcomings, since that would put them out into the world and make them that much more real. But something in your calm, steady voice, in your confident expression made him say it anyway. “I promised I’d make you trust me,” he mumbled, glancing up at you just to turn his gaze away again.

“And is flirting with another girl very ‘trustful’ of you?” You cocked your head to the side, your arms crossing over your chest; Theo saw it as defensive, and you? You just didn’t know where to put your hands.

He stayed silent. Because he knew, his rational mind knew that the answer was a firm, resounding ‘no’. It was not, in any way, shape or form, trustful. It was, for all intents and purposes, the exact opposite. He couldn’t say it out loud, though. Fuck him, he never could.

“See?” You shrugged, taking his silence as confirmation. “It’s very much not. And I can’t be with someone I don’t trust, Theo.”

His head snapped up, his hand shooting forward to grab your arm, as if you could disappear at any given moment. And you were planning to, which is why you looked at him with a hint of annoyance in your eyes.

“You can’t just leave, tesoro,” he whispered, leaning so far in that his lips almost brushed against your ear. The music was still booming around you, and you kind of disliked the fact that he could use it as an excuse to stand so close. “Let me…” Theo took a deep breath, letting it out as a warm puff against your skin. “Let me apologize, baby… Let me show you how sorry I am.”

There was the ‘baby’. The nickname he pulled up whenever he got in the mood, or whenever he wanted you to do something he knew you wouldn’t immediately agree to. His hand started gliding up and down your arm, light as a feather, and usually, that combination would have sent your body into a frenzy and force your mind to turn off.

“Come on, tesoro, let me in...” His lips tickled the shell of your ear as his fingers danced along your arm, moving to the slope of your neck, where his thumb found your pulse point. “You’re the only one for me. I’ll show you, okay? If you just let me, baby…”

For a split second, you felt that flutter in your stomach again. Theo always knew exactly what he had to do to make you feel it, and unfortunately, it had a habit of working in his favour. You had half a mind to hate yourself for it, but you knew better – it was just a physical fucking reaction to an attractive man you’d been in a romantic and sexual relationship with for three months. An image flashed in front of your eyes – the image of him flirting with that girl, the sight you had the displeasure of witnessing just a bit earlier. And suddenly, the annoying butterfly inside you had its wings brutally ripped out.

“You showed me enough.”

You stood up from the armrest of the chair you had been occupying and took a step to the side. Theo’s expression turned from seductive to desperate in a blink of an eye. His fingers dug into your arm once again, but you pried his hand off of you, and he remained rational enough not to make a huge, borderline violent scene.

“Tesoro…” he tried once more, searching your entire face and body for any signs that you weren’t completely giving up on the relationship. But you shook your head, just once, unwavering in your decision.

“Goodbye, Theo.” Your expression didn’t change, your eyes didn’t soften at the sight of his tightened jaw, his pursed, slightly downturned lips. “I won’t waste my time waiting for a change from someone who didn’t plan to change to begin with.”

With that, you turned around and disappeared into the crowd, the moving bodies swallowing you in an instant. You didn’t turn around even once, knowing it wouldn’t be a great decision for you right then. You didn’t see Theo practically falling into the chair, quietly breathing in and out and burying his face in his hands. You had no idea that at that very moment, he fought with himself not to unravel right there, in the middle of the fucking Slytherin party.

nav. masterlist.

#─ ꒰ 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚢 𝚔𝚒𝚛𝚊 ꒱ 📜 ˎˊ˗#theo nott #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #theo nott x y/n #theo nott angst #theo nott imagine #theo nott fanfiction #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott angst #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott fanfiction #slytherin boys #slytherin boys angst #slytherin boys imagine #slytherin boys fanfiction

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bloomzone · 2 days ago

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2025 : #26 the art of being elegant because it's a beauty that never fades

[ maybe the longest blog I ever made but it worth reading ]

☆ ★ The introduction : why this matters more than anything

You know that feeling when someone walks into a room and everyone just naturally gravitates toward them? They're not necessarily the most conventionally beautiful person there, they're not the loudest, they're not trying the hardest ect ect.. but there's something absolutely magnetic about their presence. People describe them as "She's just so elegant and graceful" or "there's something special about her." That's what we're after here , this is about developing a presence so genuinely confident and warm that even when people disagree with you, criticize you, or try to bring you down, they still can't help but respect u . ur elegance becomes like armor it protects you from negativity while drawing in all the right energy and people ! This kind of elegance is completely accessible to everyooooone it doesn't matter what you look like, how much money you have, where you come from or what you're wearing.... It's about cultivating something from within that radiates outward and touches everyone around you. It's the ultimate glow-up because it's permanent and it grows stronger with time. And it can be the thing that can CHANGE UR LIFE AND ENERGY! ✒️

Part 1: Understanding what elegance actually is (and what It's not)

Before we dive into the how, we need to get crystal CLEAR on what we're actually talking about because there's so much confusion around this word. Elegance has been twisted and misunderstood, especially in our current culture where everything is about being the most dramatic, or the most "extra." y'know ?

What elegance is not :

Elegance is absolutely NOT about being a pick-me girl. If you're putting down other women to make yourself seem more sophisticated or special, that's the complete opposite of elegant. True elegance lifts others up It's not about competing with other women or acting like you're "not like other girls." (Bruuuuuh ) that's insecurity dressed up as superiority, and it's transparent as hell. Elegance is also not about being fake humble or constantly fishing for compliments. You know those people who are always saying "I look terrible today" or "I'm so stupid" just to get people to disagree with them? That's exhausting and manipulative, not elegant girlie. Real elegance means being comfortable with yourself your strengths AND your flaws without needing constant validation from others. It's not about being a doormat either cuz some people think being elegant means never disagreeing with anyone or always being "nice" to the point of having no personality . That's not elegance, that's people-pleasing, and it's actually really unattractive because it's not authentic hear me out . Elegant women have opinions, boundaries, and backbone. The difference is in HOW they express these things and ofc it's definitely not about being perfect or never making mistakes. Perfect people are boring and unrelateable. Elegant people are human they mess up, they have bad days, they make wrong choices sometimes. The elegance comes in how they handle these imperfections with grace and learn from them without drama , please it's not about putting on airs or acting superior to others. If you're changing your voice to sound more "refined" or name-dropping to seem impressive, you're missing the point entirely. True elegance is unpretentious it's about being genuinely yourself, just the best, most polished version of yourself.

what true elegance actually is:

Real elegance is quiet confidence. It's that deep inner knowing of your own worth that doesn't need to announce itself or prove anything to anyone. When you're truly elegant, you're not looking around the room wondering what people think of u , you're genuinely focused on connecting with others and making them feel comfortable and valued.Elegance is grace under pressure. It's staying calm when everyone else is losing their minds, speaking softly when others are yelling, and maintaining your composure even when you're being attacked or criticized. This doesn't mean being emotionless or robotic it means having mastery over your reactions and choosing your responses thoughtfully.Elegance It's is consistency , u're the same person whether you're talking to a CEO or the janitor whether you're having a good day or a terrible one, whether you're with your closest friends or meeting someone new. This consistency comes from having a strong sense of self and clear values that guide your behavior in all situations.

☆ ★ Part 2: building ur inner foundation | the source

u cannot fake elegance. u can learn the mannerisms, copy the style, memorize the etiquette rules, but if you don't have the inner foundation, it will always feel forced and people will sense it. Real elegance starts from the inside and radiates outward.

Developing unshakeable self-worth:

The foundation of elegance is knowing ur worth without needing external validation. This is probably the hardest part because we live in a world that's constantly telling us we're not enough not pretty enough, not smart enough, not successful enough, not anything enough. But elegant women have done the inner work to separate their self-worth from other people's opinions.

☆ This starts with really understanding your own values and living by them consistently. What matters to you? What kind of person do you want to be? What are you willing to stand for, even when it's unpopular? When you have clear answers to these questions and you live by them, you develop an inner compass that guides you through any situation.

☆ You also need to make peace with your flaws and imperfections. This doesn't mean settling or not trying to improve , it means accepting that you're human and that your worth isn't dependent on being perfect. When you can acknowledge your mistakes without shame, laugh at yourself when you do something silly, and accept criticism without getting defensive, you're operating from a place of security rather than insecurity.

☆ Practice self-compassion the same way you would show compassion to a good friend. When you mess up, don't beat yourself up for days. Learn from it and move on giiiirl . When you're having a bad day, don't pretend everything is fine, but don't make it everyone else's problem either. Treat yourself with the same kindness you'd show someone you care about.

Emotional maturity and regulation:

Elegance requires emotional intelligence, the ability to understand and manage your own emotions while being attuned to others' feelings. This is what allows you to stay graceful under pressure and respond rather than react to difficult situations.

☆ Start paying attention to your emotional triggers. What makes you defensive? What makes you angry? What makes you insecure? Once you identify these patterns, you can start to catch yourself before you react poorly. Take a breath nd choose ur response instead of being controlled by your immediate emotional reaction.

☆ Learn to sit with uncomfortable emotions instead of immediately acting on them. If someone says something that hurts your feelings, you don't have to respond right away. You can feel the hurt, process it, and then decide how you want to address it. This space between stimulus and response is where elegance lives.

☆ Develop empathy for others, even when they're being difficult. Most people who are rude or aggressive are dealing with their own pain or insecurity. This doesn't mean you have to tolerate mistreatment, but understanding this helps you not take things personally and respond with grace instead of matching their energy.

Continuous growth and learning:

Elegant women are always growing and learning. They're curious about the world, interested in different perspectives, and committed to becoming better versions of themselves. This intellectual curiosity and growth mindset is incredibly attractive and keeps you interesting and engaged with life.

☆ Read books, not just for entertainment but for knowledge and perspective. Learn about different cultures, historical periods, scientific discoveries, philosophical ideas. You don't need to become an expert in everything but having a broad base of knowledge makes you a more interesting conversationalist and gives you context for understanding the world.

☆ Develop deep expertise in at least one area that you're passionate about. Whether it's art, cooking, music, business, social causes, or anything else, having something you're genuinely passionate about and knowledgeable about makes you more interesting and gives you confidence in at least one area of your life.

☆ Be open to feedback and willing to change your mind when presented with new information. Elegant people aren't so attached to being right that they can't admit when they're wrong. They see learning and growth as more important than protecting their ego.

Part 3: ur physical presence | the foundation of first impressions

People form judgments about you within seconds of seeing you, before you even open your mouth. it's reality ikr even that we say it's unfair. ur physical presence communicates volumes about your confidence, your self-respect, and your attention to detail. The good news is that you have complete control over this aspect of elegance.

Mastering ur posture:

Good posture is literally the backbone of elegance, and it's something you can start improving immediately. Poor posture doesn't just make you look less confident it actually makes you FEEL less confident. There's real science behind the fact that how you hold your body affects your mental state.

Here's how to find your proper posture:

ㅤ۪ㅤ۫ ꪆ୧ㅤFirst of all I recommend yuuka sagawa on ytb she has the best back / posture workout ! 🪽

☆ Stand against a wall with your back flat against it. Your head, shoulders, and butt should all touch the wall. Your feet should be about six inches away from the wall. This is what proper alignment feels like. Your ears should be directly over your shoulders, your shoulders over your hips, your hips over your knees, and your knees over your ankles.

☆ Now, imagine a string attached to the crown of your head, gently pulling you upward. Your shoulders should be back but relaxed - not tense and pulled up toward your ears. Your chest should be open and lifted slightly. Your core should be gently engaged to support your spine. This might feel weird at first if you're used to slouching, but it will become natural with practice.

☆ When you walk, lead with your chest, not your head. Many people walk with their head jutting forward, especially if they're looking at their phone a lot. This makes you look like you're constantly in a hurry or anxious. Instead, keep your head balanced over your shoulders and let your chest lead the way forward.

☆ Practice this everywhere : walking to class, sitting at your desk, standing in line. Set reminders on your phone if you need to. After a few weeks of conscious practice, good posture will become automatic n you'll notice how differently people respond to you.

Your facial expressions and smile:

Your face is the first thing people notice about you, and your facial expressions communicate so much about your inner state. You don't need to have a perfect smile or flawless features to have an elegant presence you just need to be mindful of what your face is communicating.

☆ First let's talk about resting face. We've all heard of "resting bitch face" but the truth is most people's neutral expression looks somewhat unfriendly or unapproachable. This isn't your fault it's just how faces work. But you can make small adjustments that make a huge difference in how approachable you seem.

☆ Keep your facial muscles relaxed, not tense. A lot of people hold tension in their jaw, around their eyes, or in their forehead without realizing it. Do a quick mental check throughout the day are you clenching your jaw? Furrowing your brow? Squinting? Consciously relax these muscles.

☆ Let your eyes be soft and alert like you're genuinely interested in what's happening around you. Hard squinty eyes make you look angry or judgmental, even if you're not. Practice "soft eyes" in the mirror it's a subtle difference, but it makes you look much more approachable and kind.

☆ Now, about smiling this is where a lot of people go wrong. A fake smile is worse than no smile at all because people can tell the difference, even if they can't articulate why. A real smile engages your whole face, not just your mouth. Your eyes crinkle slightly, your cheeks lift, and there's a warmth that's impossible to fake.

☆ Practice your genuine smile in the mirror. Think about something that makes you truly happy a person you love, a funny memory, a goal you're excited about. Watch how your whole face changes. This is the smile you want to access when you're meeting new people or in social situations.

☆ Don't feel like you need to smile constantly that's exhausting and comes across as insincere. But when you do smile make it count. A genuine smile at the right moment can completely change the energy of an interaction.

How u move through space:

The way you move communicates confidence, grace and seeeeelf-awareness. Elegant people move with purpose but not panic, with awareness but not self-consciousness.

☆ Don't rush everywhere like you're constantly late or anxious. Even when you are running late, try to maintain a sense of calm urgency rather than frantic energy. People can feel your energy before you even speak, and frantic energy is contagious and unpleasant.

☆ Move with intention. This means being aware of your body and how you're occupying space. When you sit down, do it gracefully don't just collapse into the chair. When you stand up do it smoothly. When you walk be aware of your gait and rhythm.

☆ Pay attention to your gestures when you speak. Elegant people use their hands to emphasize points, but their gestures are controlled and purposeful, not wild and distracting. Keep your gestures within the frame of your body don't wave your arms around too much.

☆ Be aware of your personal space and others Don't stand too close to people (unless you're in a loud environment where you need to), but don't stand so far away that you seem distant or uncomfortable. Find that sweet spot where people feel comfortable and engaged.

ur voice and how u speak:

Your voice is an incredibly powerful tool that most people completely underutilize. The way you speak communicates confidence, intelligence, and thoughtfulness or the opposite.

☆ Slow down your speech. Most people talk too fast, especially when they're nervous or excited. Speaking too quickly makes you seem anxious and makes it harder for people to understand and connect with what you're saying. Practice speaking at about 75% of your normal speed it will feel slow to you, but it will sound perfect to others.

☆ Use pauses effectively don't be afraid of silence in conversation. Pausing before you answer a question makes you seem thoughtful and considered. Pausing after you make an important point gives it weight and allows it to sink in.

☆ Work on your articulation : u don't need to sound like a news anchor, but mumbling or slurring your words makes you seem less intelligent and less confident than you are. Practice speaking clearly especially with the endings of words.

Part 4: the art of elegant communication

Communication is where elegance really shines. Anyone can learn to stand up straight or speak clearly, but elegant communication comes from a deeper place of confidence, empathy, and social intelligence. This is what separates truly elegant people from those who are just going through the motions.

The Power of listening:

become an exceptional listener !!?!!!! . Most people are terrible listeners because they're too busy thinking about what they want to say next. But when you truly listen to someone not just hearing their words, but understanding their meaning and emotions u give them a gift that's increasingly rare.

☆ When someone is speaking to you, give them your full attention. Put your phone away, turn your body toward them, make appropriate eye contact, and focus completely on what they're saying. Don't interrupt, don't finish their sentences, and don't start formulating your response while they're still talking.

☆ Ask follow-up questions that show you were paying attention. If someone tells you about a job interview they had for ex , emember to ask about it the next time you see them. If they mention a hobby or interest, ask them what they love about it. These small acts of attention make people feel valued and important.

☆ Learn to read between the lines. Often, what people don't say is just as important as what they do say. Pay attention to body language, tone of voice, and emotional undertones. Someone might say they're "fine" but their body language suggests otherwise. Elegant people are attuned to these subtleties and respond appropriately.

Speaking with purpose and grace:

When you do speak, make it count. Elegant people don't talk just to fill silence or to hear themselves speak. They speak with intention and purpose.

☆ Think before you speak read it again . especially about important or sensitive topics. It's okay to pause and collect your thoughts before responding to a question or comment. This makes you seem thoughtful and considered, not slow or uncertain.

☆ Choose your words carefully. You don't need to use fancy vocabulary but be precise in your language. Say what you mean and mean what you say.

☆ When you need to disagree with someone, do it gracefully. Instead of saying "You're wrong" or "That's stupid," try something like "I see it differently" or "My experience has been different." You're not backing down from your position, but you're not attacking the other person either.

☆ Learn to give compliments that are genuine and specific. Instead of just saying "You look nice," try something like "That color really brings out your eyes" or "You always know how to put together the perfect outfit." Specific compliments show that you're really paying attention and they mean more to the recipient. And we are girrrls cmooooon

Handling difficult conversations:

This is where true elegance really shows itself how you handle conflict, criticism, and difficult situations. Anyone can be graceful when everything is going well, but elegant people maintain their composure even under pressure.

☆ When someone is being rude or aggressive toward you, your first instinct might be to match their energy or get defensive. But elegance means staying calm and responding from a place of strength, not reaction. Take a deep breath, pause, and then respond in a way that reflects your values, not their behavior.

☆ You can set boundaries without being mean about it. If someone is speaking to you disrespectfully, you can say something like "I'd like to continue this conversation, but I need you to speak to me respectfully" or "I don't appreciate being spoken to that way." You're standing up for yourself without stooping to their level.

☆ When you make a mistake or someone calls you out on something handle it with grace. Don't make excuses, don't blame others, and don't get defensive. Simply say "You're right, I made a mistake" or "I apologize, that wasn't appropriate." Then fix the problem and move on. People respect this kind of accountability.

☆ If someone is trying to provoke you or start drama don't take the baaaaait. You can acknowledge what they're saying without engaging with the drama. Something like "I can see you're upset" or "I understand you feel that way" shows that you heard them without agreeing to participate in the conflict. U will kll them ! That's what I do actually

Part 5: Your daily Habits and lifestyle

Elegance isn't something you turn on and off it's a way of being that's reflected in how you live your daily life. The small, everyday choices and habits you develop are what create that consistent, authentic elegance that people notice and admire.

Creating structure and intention in ur days:

Elegant people don't just drift through life they live with intention and purpose. This doesn't mean every moment has to be scheduled or that you can't be spontaneous that's a bad habit ! but it means having a sense of direction and making conscious choices about how you spend your time and energy.

☆ Start each day with some kind of intention-setting. This could be as simple as taking five minutes when you wake up to think about what you want to accomplish and how you want to show up in the world that day. What kind of energy do you want to bring to your interactions? What priorities do you want to focus on?

☆ Create routines that support the person you want to be. This might include a morning routine that helps you feel centered and prepared for the day, an evening routine that helps you wind down and reflect, or weekly routines that keep your life organized and on track it's up to u !

☆ Be intentional about how you spend your time. This doesn't mean you can't relax or have fun, but it means making conscious choices rather than just defaulting to whatever is easiest or most immediately gratifying. Ask yourself: Is this activity aligned with my values and goals? Is it contributing to the person I want to become?

Taking care of ur environment:

Your environment reflects and affects your inner state. Elegant people tend to keep their spaces clean, organized, and thoughtfully arranged because they understand that their surroundings impact their mood and mindset.

☆ Keep your living space tidy and organized. This doesn't mean it has to be perfect all the time, but it should be a space that feels calm and intentional rather than chaotic and cluttered. Make your bed every morning it's a simple act that sets a tone of care and attention for the day.

☆ Pay attention to details in your environment. Fresh flowers, clean sheets, good lighting, and pleasant scents all contribute to a sense of elegance and care. You don't need to spend a lot of money on this even just keeping your space clean and adding a few thoughtful touches can make a big difference.

☆ Be respectful of shared spaces and other people's belongings. Clean up after yourself, put things back where they belong, and treat other people's homes and belongings with care. This shows consideration and respect for others.

How u treat others in daily interactions:

Elegance shows up most clearly in how you treat people in everyday situations : the server at a restaurant, the cashier at the store, your classmates, your family members. These interactions reveal your true character.

☆ Treat everyone with the same basic level of respect and kindness, regardless of their position or what they can do for you. Say please and thank you consistently. Make eye contact and smile when appropriate. Remember that everyone you interact with is a human being deserving of dignity.

☆ Be punctual and reliable. If you say you're going to be somewhere at a certain time, be there. If you commit to doing something, follow through. If something comes up and you need to change plans, give people as much notice as possible. Ur word should mean something.

☆ Help others when you can without making a big show of it. Hold doors open, offer to carry heavy things, check in on friends who are going through difficult times. Do these things because it's the right thing to do, not because you want recognition or praise.

☆ Be gracious in receiving help and compliments. When someone does something nice for you, thank them genuinely. When someone compliments you, accept it gracefully instead of deflecting or putting yourself down. Like "no I'm not that pretty" wtf c'mon 💀💀

Managing ur energy and emotions:

Elegant people are skilled at managing their own energy and emotions so they can show up as their best selves consistently. This doesn't mean being fake or suppressing your feelings, but it means being responsible for your emotional state and its impact on others.

☆ Pay attention to what affects your mood and energy levels. Are there certain people, activities, or situations that consistently drain you or bring out the worst in you? While you can't always avoid these things, you can prepare for them and develop strategies for managing them.

☆ Develop healthy ways to process difficult emotions. This might include journaling, exercise, meditation, talking to a trusted friend, or creative expression. Find what works for you and use these tools regularly, not just when you're in crisis.

☆ Don't make your bad days everyone else's problem. It's okay to have off days : everyone does. But elegant people don't take their bad moods out on others or expect everyone around them to cater to their emotional state. If you're having a rough day, it's okay to say so, but take responsibility for managing your emotions.

☆ Create boundaries around your time and energy. You don't have to say yes to every request or invitation. It's okay to prioritize your own needs and well-being. In fact, taking good care of yourself enables u to show up better for others.

Part 6: The deeper aspects | grace under pressure and timeless wisdom

Handling criticism :

☆ Don't take things personally, even when they're meant personally. Most of the time, when someone is being rude or cruel, it says more about them and their inner state than it does about you. This understanding helps you respond with compassion rather than anger.

☆ Stand up for yourself and others without being aggressive or mean. You can be firm and clear about your boundaries while still treating others with respect. You can defend yourself or someone else without attacking the other person's character.

☆ Choose your battles wisely. Not every slight needs to be addressed, not every argument needs to be won. Sometimes the most elegant response is to simply not engage with negativity or drama as I said before

The ripple effect of true elegance:

☆ When you embody true elegance, it has a positive impact that extends far beyond yourself. You become someone who elevates the energy of every room you enter, who makes others feel better about themselves, who inspires others to be their best selves.

☆ You create a safe space for others to be authentic and vulnerable. When people are around someone who is genuinely elegant, they feel permission to let their guard down and be real because they trust that they won't be judged or attacked.

☆ You model what's possible In a world that often seems to reward the loudest, most dramatic, or most aggressive behavior, you show that there's another way to be powerful through grace, kindness, and quiet confidence.

☆ You contribute to a more civil and beautiful world. Every interaction you have with grace and kindness makes the world a little bit better. You're part of the solution to the coarseness and negativity that seems to be everywhere.

finally why this never goes out of style

ㅤ۪ㅤ۫ ꪆ୧ㅤElegance never goes out of style because it's based on timeless human values and qualities that people have always been drawn to and always will be. Trends come and go. Fashion changes. What's considered cool or popular shifts constantly. But kindness, grace, confidence, integrity, and the ability to make others feel valued these qualities have been attractive for thousands of years and will continue to be attractive for thousands more.

ㅤ۪ㅤ۫ ꪆ୧ㅤWhen you develop true elegance, you're investing in something that will serve you for your entire life. It will help you in your relationships, your career, your personal growth, and your overall happiness. It's a gift you give yourself that keeps giving returns. And perhaps most importantly, true elegance is contagious. When you embody these qualities, you inspire others to do the same. You become part of raising the standard for how people treat each other and move through the world.

So commit to this journey. It's not always easy, and you won't be perfect at it, but it's absolutely worth it. Start where you are with what you have, and take it one day at a time. The world needs more truly elegant people and you can be one of them. Have a lucky Vicky daaay

@bloomzone

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