#they are all so spicy and in desperate need of socialization

[r0ugesun]

I have a fluff maybe to slight spicy request for Aemond Targaryen if you are interested!

Aemond finally becomes betrothed to princess!reader of a different house (can be any it don’t matter) but has circulation problems so she’s always cold and therefore fretted over making Aemond believe she is spoiled. But upon being proven wrong from maybe bonding over books or hell training, falls in love and carries her to bed when the cold gets to her and her bed is just full of blankets to cuddle in.

(Aemond deserves all the intimacy and cuddles)

Thank you for sending me this request anon and sorry for the delay! Ur right Aemond deserves all the cuddles (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

Synopsis: Princess y/n of House Martell arrives at the wintry Red Keep as Prince Aemond’s betrothed. As y/n’s warmth and intellect begin to break through Aemond’s icy exterior, he finds himself drawn to her. In return, Aemond’s protective embrace provides y/n the warmth she desperately needs.

Aemond x Martell!Reader

Prince Aemond Targaryen’s engagement to Princess y/n of House Martell was a union crafted to solidify political alliances. While their marriage was intended to serve as a strategic move, it was marred by the disparity in their circumstances. Princess y/n, renowned for her exotic beauty and noble grace, suffered from a rare condition that left her perpetually cold. This affliction required constant warmth, a need that Aemond initially perceived as a sign of pampering rather than genuine necessity.

From the moment y/n arrived at the red keep in the middle of a particularly harsh winter, the contrast between them was stark. The grand halls of the castle were adorned with tapestries of fearsome dragons and Targaryen banners, but y/n’s presence was marked by her constant need for warmth. She was swathed in layers of heavy furs, her every movement accompanied by a retinue of attendants. Aemond observed from a distance, noting her delicate appearance and the attentiveness of her servants. His initial impressions were marked by skepticism and a hint of disdain.

Their first meeting was formal, a carefully orchestrated affair. Aemond greeted her with his characteristic stoicism. “Princess y/n” he said, his tone courteous but distant, “I trust your journey was comfortable?”

Y/N offered a polite smile, though her eyes revealed a trace of weariness. “Thank you, Prince Aemond. The journey was long, but I am well. Though I must admit, the cold here is harsher than I expected.”

Aemond raised an eyebrow, his gaze indifferent. “You are accustomed to much warmer climates in dorne, I’m sure. Adapting to this cold must be challenging.”

Y/n’s voice was steady as she replied, “It is indeed a challenge, but I am here to fulfill my duty. I hope to contribute meaningfully despite the discomfort.”

Aemond's eyes remained cold as he regarded

Y/n. "Your sense of duty is admirable, though I can't help but wonder if you’ll be a hindrance rather than a help."

Y/N’s eyes flashed with sharpness, though her smile remained placid. She titled her head slightly before she spoke.

“I suppose we'll find out soon enough. I’ve faced challenges before. If I can endure the cold, I’m certain I can manage other… inconveniences.”

Aemond’s lips curled slightly in a thin smile, more of a smirk than a genuine expression of amusement. “Mmm. I wonder if your resolve will hold up as well when faced with the less glamorous aspects of life here.”

“Let’s hope” y/n replied smoothly. “It’s one thing to endure the elements, another to contend with a lack of charm.”

Aemond’s gaze sharpened slightly, but his tone remained even. “Charm is not a luxury I indulge in, Princess. I prefer matters of substance.”

Y/n had a smirk of her own now, her expression thoughtful. “Substance is important, but so is the ability to navigate social graces. Otherwise, one might come off as... unlikable.”

Aemond’s expression did not shift. “And you, Princess, are known for your social prowess?”

“I am known for many things, my prince” y/n said with a wry smile.

“Including the ability to keep my composure even when faced with frosty reception—both literal and figurative.”

Aemond’s eyes flickered with a hint of respect, though he quickly masked it with his usual stoicism. “We shall see if your composure extends to the political intricacies of our alliance.”

“I have no doubt it will” y/n replied confidently. “After all, if I can manage to stay warm and navigate through a wintry castle, I believe I can handle the complexities of court politics.”

Aemond regarded her with a piercing look, as if assessing whether her confidence was merely bravado or a genuine asset. “We shall see, indeed.”

Days passed, and the cold of King's Landing seemed even more relentless. Aemond, finding solace in the library's quiet, often retreated there to escape the castle's demands. One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the ancient tomes, he entered the library to find an unexpected sight: Y/N, comfortably nestled near the hearth, a thick fur draped over her shoulders, engrossed in a book.

Aemond paused, his usual stoic demeanor faltering for a moment. He approached her with measured steps, his curiosity piqued. "Princess" he greeted, his tone more neutral than before.

Y/blooked up, a hint of surprise in her eyes before she smiled with a hint of apprehension. "Prince Aemond. I didn't expect to see you here."

"The library is a place of comfort for me" he admitted, his gaze drifting over the bookshelves. "I come here often to escape the... noise."

Y/n nodded, her fingers tracing the edges of the book she held. "I think it’s quite peaceful myself. I find the histories of your lineage particularly fascinating."

As Aemond sat across from her, he noticed the title of the book in her hands. "The Histories of Dorne and Aegon the conquerer" he remarked. "An interesting choice."

Y/n’s eyes sparkled with interest. "I was just reading about Aegon’s failed conquest of Dorne. It seems he underestimated the resilience of the Dornish people."

Aemond’s lips twitched into a faint smile. "Aegon was a formidable conqueror, but he came unprepared, the Dornish have always been adept at guerrilla warfare, using the knowledge of their land to their advantage."

Y/n leaned forward slightly, her interest genuine. "Do you think he could have succeeded if he had approached the conquest differently?"

Aemond considered her question, appreciating the depth of her curiosity. "Perhaps. He tried to discredit your ancestors with slanders and rumors when his dragons failed, of course that endeavor proved fruitless as well, if it were me I would’ve hired mercenaries familiar with the terrain and the culture”

Y/n smiled wryly “Wars are not won with bloodshed alone my prince If he had been more willing to negotiate and form alliances rather than relying solely on brute force, he might have had a better chance. The Dornish value our independence highly, we would not bow to mere threats."

Aemond’s gaze softened, clearly intrigued by her insight. “It seems you have a keen grasp of the intricacies of the histories and strategy. I imagine you would have made a formidable advisor.”

Y/n’s cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment, but she remained composed. “Thank you, my prince. I’ve always believed that knowledge and perspective are key to navigating both conflict and peace.”

Aemond’s smile widened slightly, a rare gesture that hinted at genuine admiration. “I look forward to hearing more of your perspectives.”

Their debates on the histories of the realm continued, the conversation flowing easily between them. They discussed strategies, historical figures, and the nuances of Dornish culture versus the Targaryen way of conquest. Aemond found himself increasingly drawn to her intellect and passion, her perspectives challenging and enlightening.

As the evening wore on, Aemond realized with a start that he was enjoying her company. Y/n’s confident demeanor were a stark contrast to his initial impressions. He found himself admiring the way she held her own in their debate, unafraid to challenge his views.

As the days turned into weeks, the cold of King's Landing seemed to grow less oppressive for y/n and Aemond, though winter’s bite was still unmistakable. One crisp afternoon, the pair decided to take a stroll through the Kingswood, a vast expanse of trees and tranquility that lay on the outskirts of the city.

Wrapped in their furs, they walked side by side, their conversation flowing as seamlessly as the wind through the trees. They continued their discussion of history. Aemond found himself enthralled by y/n’s insights and the way she animatedly discussed the events of the past.

As they wandered further into the wood, engrossed in their discourse, they lost track of time. The sun dipped below the horizon, and the temperature dropped sharply. Y/n’s delicate frame began to show signs of discomfort, her shivering becoming more pronounced.

Aemond’s keen eyes noticed her struggle first. “Princess, you appear distressed” he said, his voice laced with concern. “We should head back.”

Y/n tried to maintain her composure, but her attempts were faltering. “I’m quite cold” she admitted, her voice trembling. She winced as she took another step, her limp becoming more noticeable. “Perhaps... we should indeed return.”

Aemond’s brow furrowed as he observed her growing discomfort. Without a second thought, he scooped her into his arms with surprising ease. Y/n gasped, both startled and flustered by the sudden, intimate contact. Her cheeks flushed, though it was not entirely from the cold.

Aemond, maintaining a careful hold, began to carry her back through the woods. His stride was steady and purposeful, though he could not ignore the feeling of Y/N nestled close against him. The warmth of her body against his own was both a contrast to the frigid air and a comfort he had not anticipated.

As they neared the castle, Y/N’s embarrassment was palpable. She attempted to speak through her shivering. “M-my prince, you needn’t carry me. I can manage!”

Aemond’s gaze softened as he looked down at her. “You are in no condition to walk, Princess. Allow me to ensure you are safely returned to your chambers.”

Despite her initial resistance, Y/N found herself settling into his embrace, her coldness slowly melting away with each step Aemond took. The castle’s warmth greeted them as they entered, and Aemond carried her up the grand staircase, his movements deliberate and careful.

Upon reaching their chambers, Aemond gently set y/n down on the edge of the large, ornate bed. He took a moment to stoke the fire, ensuring the room was warm and inviting. Y/n watched him with a mixture of gratitude and bashfulness.

“Thank you” she said quietly as he helped her settle under the heavy, embroidered blankets. “I didn’t expect...”

Aemond interrupted her softly, a rare tenderness in his voice. “There is no need to thank me. It is my duty as your future husband to ensure your well being.”

As the fire crackled and the warmth enveloped her, y/n began to relax. Aemond, though maintaining his usual stoicism, could not ignore the growing affection he felt. He seated himself beside her, his presence a comforting shield against the chill.

Y/n looked at him, her eyes reflecting both relief and a newfound closeness. “You’ve been very kind, Aemond. I appreciate it more than you know.”

Aemond nodded, his own emotions subtly shifting. “I am glad to see you more comfortable. It would be remiss of me to let you suffer.”

The fire's glow cast a warm halo around them, and the room was filled with a tender intimacy that seemed to wrap around them like the softest of blankets. Y/n’s eyes met Aemond's, and for a moment, the world outside their secluded chamber fell away. The air was thick with an unspoken yearning, a deep desire that neither could ignore.

Aemond's gaze softened as he took in the sight of her, his usual composure giving way to a rare display of vulnerability. The warmth from the hearth made her cheeks flush, her lips slightly parted in a way that made Aemond's heart ache with a longing he had not anticipated. He reached out, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch tender and lingering.

As he leaned in, their breaths mingled, warm and intertwined. The kiss that followed was not hurried but slow and filled with a profound tenderness. It was as if Aemond was trying to savor every moment, every sensation of her closeness. His lips moved gently against hers, exploring with a careful, reverent touch. The kiss was a quiet confession of his growing affection, a promise of warmth and devotion.

Y/n felt a delicious shiver of pleasure as he placed his warm hands under her dress and caressing her thighs, melting into his embrace, her cold body finally finding solace in the heat of his touch. Aemond's arms wrapped around her with a desperate kind of need, pulling her closer as if he could absorb her cold and make it his own. His warmth seemed to seep into her, chasing away the chill that had plagued her since her arrival.

With each press of his lips every soft touch under her clothes, Aemond conveyed a yearning that went beyond mere physical desire. It was a yearning for connection, for understanding, for something deeper than the political arrangement that had brought them together. His touch was both possessive and protective, He was a fire that would keep her brittle heart warm.

When they finally parted, their foreheads resting together, Aemond’s eye was filled with a tenderness that spoke volumes.

Y/n’s voice was low, almost a whisper. “You bring warmth to more than just my body, Aemond. You’re igniting something in me that I never knew I needed.”

Aemonds eye shone with a mix of relief and affection as he looked down at her. “I never thought I’d find comfort like this.”

Aemond’s smile was soft, almost shy, as he brushed his thumb lightly over her cheek as she spoke.

“It’s strange, isn’t it? How something so unexpected can bring such warmth to our lives.”

Y/n nuzzled her nose with his and wrapped her leg over Aemond’s waist, drawing herself closer to him. The closeness of their bodies created an even more intimate cocoon, reinforcing their shared warmth. The contact of her leg against his body was both grounding and tender, a subtle way of expressing her trust and affection.

Aemond’s hold tightened slightly, his eye closing in contentment as he savored the sensation of her closeness. His hand continued its soothing caress, and he rested his forehead against hers, his breath mingling with hers in a warm, gentle rhythm. “You are my only warmth” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/n’s eyes met his with a tender, knowing look. “And you are mine.” she replied softly, her lips brushing against his in a final, lingering kiss. They were each others warmth and comfort.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

୨୧ ʝαɯႦɾҽαƙҽɾ (σɳҽ) ୨୧

୨୧ Pairings: rich boy!seonghwa x chubby!fem!reader, rich boy!choi san x chubby!fem!reader, rich boy!hongjoong x chubby!fem!reader, mentions of yunho

୨୧ Genre: graduate school au/smut/angst/a lil fluffy

୨୧ Summary: It was never your intention to infiltrate one of the most exclusive social circles at your new university, seducing rich boys to get who and what you want. Wait, no, it was.

୨୧ Word Count: 1.7k-ish

୨୧ Warnings: reader's in her villain era, demon line are wealthy low key villains too, strong language, some dom demon line/sub reader dynamics, you sleep with everyone darling, oral sex (m & f receiving), swallowing, pet names (good girl), obsession, probably a praise kink (who am I kidding? it's for sure a theme), jealousy/light possessiveness, sugar baby origins, unprotected sex, a lil drop of rough sex, marking, fingering, mention of multiple orgasms, public spicy stuff, light choking, scratching, nibbling, dry humping, & that's it, babes.

୨୧ A/N: This baby has sorta just been chilling in the drafts cause I kinda get nervous to post sometimes but I'm gonna let her be free now. This one focuses on Hwa moreso but Joong and San will get their time too. Yunho's also a part of this, just not quite yet. So, yes, I hope you like it!

୨୧ Part Two is Here ୨୧

Observe a weekly study session held by three best friends. It takes place every Sunday, almost ritualistically so, at 3:00pm sharp in the apartment of ringleader Kim Hongjoong. Situated at the top floor of an old university office turned luxury apartment building, it has a vintage charm to it that somehow makes it feel more absurdly expensive than it already is. 

Observe that, despite their long held agreement that this is a “study” session, no one’s actually studying. Not Choi San lounging in the brown Italian leather chair, mindlessly chewing on one of the legs of his round rimmed glasses when he should be wearing them instead. 

Not Hongjoong painstakingly rearranging the shoes by the door. Seonghwa’s black Dior Oxfords can’t go near Hongjoong’s custom leather Prada sneakers. They are custom after all. 

Not Seonghwa who’s leaning by the window doodling on the crisp pages of his $200 copy of the Netter Atlas of Human Anatomy, an act that would be blasphemous to someone like him on any other day.

But no one’s doing anything they’d do on a normal day because this isn’t a normal day. They’re distracted, unable to peel their minds free from the events of last night and it’s all your fault. 

Staring down at the space between his legs, San can only think about the fact that you were there. You, the new girl with your pretty face and soft cheeks. Cheeks that were even softer as he gently cupped them, pressing the tip of his cock to the back of your throat.

The way that you whimpered, spit dripping from the corners of your mouth, is etched into his memory. If he could rewind time he’d do it over and over just to hear those same whimpers muffled by his cum filling your cheeks. You swallowed him so well, not spilling a drop.

“Such a good girl” he’d whispered, petting your hair as your head lay in his lap. Such a good, good girl. 

By the window, Seonghwa’s still sketching away. The level of intensity and focus on his face does wonders to make it appear as if the motion of his hand has even a shred of intent behind it. None of it means anything, just a half hearted attempt at busying a brain that keeps reminding him how he fucked you against the very window he leans upon. This exact spot actually. 

You, with your plush body and sweet voice had begged, as his lips met yours, “Please don’t stop.” It was pure bliss to have your nails digging into his forearms, the walls of your deliciously warm pussy clenching around him.

You were wet enough that your thighs were almost too slippery to grip when he parted them to sink in deeper. No girl has ever been that needy for him before, so desperate to be ruined by him. Fuck, he wants to ruin you. 

“I need a drink” Hongjoong huffs, rushing off to the kitchen. Drinking’s never been something he’s just done. He considers self medication through alcohol to be silly but what else is he meant to do? He needs something to overwhelm his palate and kill the nagging craving to taste you on his tongue.

You, with your bright eyes and innocent smile, had hopped your cute ass on the counter and let him drink from your pussy until he saw stars. How adorable you’d been, kicking your feet each time his tongue stimulated your sensitive clit, his fingers teasing your sweet spot. “One more for me” he cooed and you gave him exactly what he wanted. More.

It’s all any of them want now. More, more, more. They made a promise to each other that what happened last night could only ever happen again if you were all together. The four of you. Not three. Certainly not two. The boys would do with you what best friends do with all things, share, but sharing’s much easier said than done when you don’t truly want to. 

Seonghwa slams his book shut, snapping back to reality at a speed too dizzying for the others. “I need to go” Seonghwa announces, scrambling to shove his things into his bag. San sits up in the chair, popping his glasses back on.

“Go? Where are you going?”

“I, uh, I have to go look for something. I’ll see you guys later.”

Hongjoong steps back into the living room just in time to hear the door slam as Seonghwa exits. “Where’s he off to?” A question with only one logical answer that pisses San off the second it dawns on him.

“Where do you think?”

The scholarships aren’t nearly enough. They were enough to get you here but being able to stay? That’s a different story. And so you find yourself here on a Sunday evening, picking up hours at the university’s library to make some extra money.

It’s a grueling schedule. Weekdays waitressing at a five star restaurant, weekends at the library, and every waking hour outside of that spent with your face buried in your books. Well, almost every waking hour. Lately you’ve managed to find time for other things.

Wheeling a cart full of books down one of the aisles, you nearly run over some girl’s feet. “Hey, watch it!” she shouts, shooting you a look that says she wants to tear your head off. “I’m really sorry” you apologize, slinking to the side to let her squeeze past.

“These shoes cost more than your rent, you know that?” she spits before storming off in the other direction.

Everyone’s like that here, always throwing their money in your face. Mommy and daddy’s money anyway. You don’t have what they do, it’s like they can smell it on you, and they’ll never let you forget it. “These shoes cost more than your rent, you know that?” you mock, picking up a book to slip onto one of the shelves. “They’re fucking hideous anyway.” 

“Uh, hey, everything okay?” a voice asks from behind you. You jump, nearly tripping over one of the cart’s wheels. Seonghwa grabs you by the arm before you lose your footing. Your knight in shining armor. Well, a cardigan really but close enough, right?

“Oh my god, Seonghwa. You can’t sneak up on me like that. You’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

“It’s a library” he laughs, straightening out your shirt, “I thought we were supposed to be quiet.”

“Not that quiet! What are you doing here anyway?”

That came out a bit harsher than you intended. Thankfully Seonghwa finds it cute when you’re sassy. “Yunho told me you work here on weekends and I thought…I wanted to see you.” “See me?” you ask, the book now clutched in your arms like a stuffed animal.

Seonghwa moves between you and the cart, pinning you against one of the shelves. This position feels familiar, a flash of heat rushing over your body and settling between your legs. Seonghwa toys with the hem of your short skirt, his knuckles brushing your exposed thigh.

“Do you like it?”

“Hmm?”

“Working two jobs. Do you like it?”

“Honestly, I hate it.” You draw in a sharp breath when his fingertips touch the marks he left behind on you last night. Sneaking both hands beneath your skirt, he traces your hips, relishing in the fullness of them.

Your thighs part and he carefully eases his knee between them, the moist cotton of your panties all that separates your aching core from his slacks. Seonghwa leans in to nibble at your bottom lip, “Then quit.” “Hwa, you know I can’t, ah…” you squeak, the book tumbling to the ground as he slowly grinds you along his leg.

He kisses you tenderly, angling you forward to stimulate your clit in just the right way. Seonghwa can already feel you soaking through his pants. You get wet so easily for him and it eats away at his self control. “Quit” he repeats, “I can get you a job at one of my father’s offices. His secretaries there don’t really do anything. You can kind of just sit there and be pretty. I know you can do that.”

Letting go of your waist, he pulls back enough to watch how perfectly your tits sit as you ride his thigh. “Look at you, doing so well already.” 

The quiet one. That’s how Yunho described Seonghwa before you met him. He’s quiet but no more innocent than the others are. Never let that innocent exterior fool you, he has a switch and when it flips he’s someone you won’t even recognize.

That switch, you can see it flipping on and off. His eyes bright with admiration one second and darkening with lust the next. There’s something dangerous about him but you aren’t exactly harmless now, are you? 

“You’d do that for me?” you ask, taking his hand and pressing it to your cheek. You nuzzle into his palm, taking his thumb between your lips. “Of course I would. I’d…” he loses his train of thought as you start sucking his thumb, the rhythm of your hips picking up speed.

“Anything you want.”

You can feel his pulse quickening. See his face taking on a pink hue. Your breathing grows shallow, the tension building in your core making your body shudder. “So close” you whine, running his hand down to your neck, “I want you to make me cum.” 

Anything you want. Anything for you. Seonghwa holds you by the neck, his other hand slipping into your panties. “Cum for me then like a good girl. Like my good girl.”

There’s a chance someone could hear you. Between the splashing of his fingers in your juices and the moans that spill out from your lips onto his, there’s more than enough noise to draw a little attention. That’s what makes it hotter. What has his cock straining against his pants and your eyes glossing over as the tension finally snaps.

Ruin you, that’s what he wanted to do, and look at you now, coming undone so wonderfully. How can he be anything short of obsessed with you? 

“So gorgeous when you’re falling apart.”

“Only when I’m falling apart?” you ask, leaning forward to rest your head on his shoulder. Seonghwa wraps an arm around your waist, kissing you on the forehead.

“No,” he sighs, “And I think that might be the death of me.”

[justagalwhowrites]

TikTok Trend

Beautiful decides to take part in a TikTok Trend with Joel. A New in Town drabble.

^We're borrowing Mr. Ben for a late-40s Joel, OK? I desperately need more gifs of Pedro's Joel from that era, I'm too reliant on other characters and actual Pedro gifs for these fics GIVE ME SOMETHING PLEASE

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader from New in Town

Warnings: Not much! Age gap but not the focus of the fic (reader is 36, Joel is 48). No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 1.4k

A/N: I got stuck thinking earlier how Joel would react to the "call your boyfriend your husband" trend and this is how I think it'd go. This is set about 3 months before the last chapter of New in Town. This can be read as a stand alone fic with the understanding that reader is Sarah's best friend and Joel and Reader have an established relationship of about a year.

“So what’s this for again?” Joel asked as he sat down at the picnic table in the park. 

“It’s a TikTok challenge,” you said, settling in beside him. Joel opened the paper bag the two of you had just gotten from a food truck and started taking out the tacos, putting some in front of you and him. 

“Right,” he said. “And… I’m sorry, baby, but what’s the point?” 

You laughed as you set your phone against your water bottle so it was propped up and ready to film. 

“There isn’t really one, I guess,” you said. “It’s just a fun little video you make and then share. Those interns I have until May are all about it, they were showing me some of theirs the other day. Figure if I work in marketing, I gotta keep up with the trends!” 

Joel smiled a little. 

“So this is the kind of shit Sarah does, huh?” 

“Yeah, she does,” you laughed again. “Her and the interns made one for the company social page the other day, actually.” 

“Can I see?” He asked, interest suddenly piqued. 

“Sure,” you picked your phone back up and found your company’s TikTok, scrolling to the video and handing it off to Joel. 

“We work in marketing, of course we over analyze every ad we see,” Sarah said through your phone, a small smile on Joel’s face as he watched. 

It made you smile, too. One of the fun parts about being in the strange middle ground between your boyfriend’s and best friend’s ages was serving as a bit of a translator between them. Joel still didn’t quite get TikTok. Sarah didn’t understand why her dad refused to go all in on streaming and still had cable. You, at least, could see both sides. 

But this TikTok effort had nothing to do with Sarah. You did try to keep up with the trends on social media to better craft campaigns and content - capitalizing on trends meant that you had to move quick and you couldn’t afford to be out of touch - but your personal TikTok account was mostly empty. It was pretty private, anyway, shared with only a few close friends like Sarah and Maria. All it had were a few reposts of things you liked, some montages of video snippets from you and Joel’s first vacation together, that sort of thing. 

“You should do some of the trends!” Jason, one of your interns, said earlier that day. 

“Just being in the loop on trends is plenty for me,” you waved him off but smiled. “I don’t need to participate.” 

“But it’s fun!” Kenzie, your other intern said. “They’re not all dances and stuff, you know…” 

“I know,” you said. “But it’s just not what I want to spend a lot of time doing is all.” 

“Some don’t take much time,” she said, opening her phone and scrolling for a second. “Here, this one’s easy. You said you have a boyfriend, right?” 

“I do…” 

“Cool,” she said. “So all you do is record yourself making a video where you call your boyfriend your husband, just to see how he reacts. No crazy edits or anything, it’s super easy.” 

You caved after some light convincing and came up with a plan to get Joel in front of the camera. You told him it was a spicy food challenge, just to see which of you handled the heat better and, while you knew he wouldn’t really get the point, you knew he’d be supportive. He always was. 

But there was something about this trend in particular that made you a little nervous. It’s not like the two of you hadn’t discussed marriage. You’d been together a year now, you’d just moved into his house. It had definitely come up. But it had come up in the way that far off things do, something that might happen some day if things fell into place in just the right way. You didn’t want to push it, didn’t want him to feel rushed or obligated, especially since you’d only been cohabitating about a month. Bringing up marriage - even like this - made you nervous. 

“OK I think I get it,” Joel handed you your phone back after watching Sarah’s video twice. “But we’re not doin’ that same thing, right?” 

“Nope,” you said. “We’re going to see who handles the spice better.” 

“Think we both know which one of us is gonna win that one, Beautiful,” he teased, nuzzling his nose against your temple before kissing your cheek. “Us southern men are made of sterner stuff…” 

“Yeah yeah,” you rolled your eyes but smiled, leaning close to him. “We’ll just see about that.” 

You set your phone up to record again, propping it against your water bottle. 

“Here, you gotta get in close because the TikTok format is vertical,” you said and Joel adjusted so you were half beside and half in front of him, his arm going around your waist, hand finding your hip, thumb slipping up below your shirt to find your bare flesh above the band of your pants and brushing you slowly, sensually there. You gave him a look. 

“What?” He asked, brows raised, smile barely contained. 

“Don’t act all innocent,” you shook your head. “You know exactly what you’re doing…” 

“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s make your little TikTik video…” 

“TikTok,” you rolled your eyes but adjusted yourself, your heart pounding. 

“Whatever the kids are using now,” he said. “Because the sooner we’re done the sooner I can get you home…” 

“Alright, I’m going to record,” you cut him off. “Behave yourself!” 

“Always do, Beautiful.” 

You rolled your eyes again but took a deep breath, leaned forward and pressed record. 

“Hi everyone,” you smiled, watching the recording of you and Joel as it was made on the screen. “I’m here with my husband and we’re going to do the spicy food challenge…”

“Your what?” He cut you off and you turned so you could see him a little better. 

“What?” 

“Did…” he paused, looking at you like he wasn’t sure if you were losing it or he was. You weren’t sure if that was good or bad. “Did you just call me your husband?” 

“Yeah,” you shrugged, turning back to the camera. “Anyway, my husband and I both really love spicy food and…” 

You didn’t get a chance to finish your sentence. Joel grabbed your chin almost roughly, pulling you around to face him and all but crushed his lips against yours, clutching you close, kissing you deep and hard, like he couldn’t get enough of you. When he finally let you go, you looked at him and laughed a little, watching him. 

“What was that for?” You asked. 

“You wanna call me your husband?” He asked, a serious look on his face. “Beautiful, we will go to the courthouse right this damn second, don’t tempt me…” 

“Joel, it’s 7 p.m.,” you laughed. “The courthouse is closed.” 

“Don’t care,” he said, giving you a quicker kiss this time. “C’mon, we’ll grab Sarah on the way, see if Tommy wants to meet us…” 

“That’s all it takes, hm?” You teased, heart pounding but for a good reason now. “Just me slipping up and calling you my husband and you’re ready to run down the aisle?” 

“Baby, I’ve been ready to run down the aisle for about a year,” he pressed his forehead to yours. “Just been waitin’ on you to catch up.” 

“Well,” you kissed him softly. “I’m more than caught up. But think I’m still gonna make you ask.” 

“Good luck stopping me,” he said, kissing you again, longer this time, needier, until you pulled away with a groan. “Forget this food challenge, I gotta get you home and devour you. Let’s go, wife.” 

You laughed and stopped the recording on your phone, saving the video to drafts as Joel gathered up the food. You made the mental note to edit out that last part before posting, no need for the interns or Sarah to know quite that much about your sex life. 

“Sorry for ruining your little video,” he said as you started back toward the car. “We can try again later, promise to actually behave myself then…” 

“That’s alright,” you smiled, lacing your fingers with his. “I already got everything I need.”

[the-slumberparty]

🍨Navy & Roo's Sundae Bar🍨

Welcome to Navy and Roo’s Sundae Bar! 

*rules at the bottom*

𝔽𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕝𝕖𝕖𝕡𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕥, 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕞𝕒𝕪 𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕪 𝕗𝕝𝕒𝕧𝕠𝕦𝕣, 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕠𝕡 𝕠𝕣 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 (𝕧𝕚𝕤𝕦𝕒𝕝 𝕠𝕣 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕟) 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕗𝕝𝕒𝕧𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕤. 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕓𝕖 𝕒𝕗𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕗𝕝𝕒𝕧𝕠𝕦𝕣. 𝔽𝕠𝕣 𝕒 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕖𝕩𝕥𝕣𝕒, 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕒 𝕥𝕠𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕥! 

*Click below the cut to see more.*

🍧Vanilla: ‘only one bed’ - a classic flavour for a classic trope. Your characters are stranded and they have to share a sleeping space. 

🍧Chocolate: a secret revealed – for a flavour as dark and rich as chocolate, you need a secret just as delicious. One (or more) of your characters has a dirty little secret revealed. 

🍧Strawberry: berry picking – isn't it obvious? Fresh strawberries are best and berry picking is a sweet summertime activity. Your characters go berry picking, how their adventure ends is up to you. Fluffy, smutty, or even, dark. 

🍧Neopolitan: love triangle – three's a crowd! Whether it’s poly, a crush on someone taken, a third wheel date, or a spicy threesome, there’s more to love in this combination. 

🍧Black Cherry: enemies to lovers – a dark flavour has a sweet tang. So your characters go from one extreme to the other, hate to love. 

🍧Mint Chocolate: the loner – mint chocolate is an acquired taste, so it is that one of your characters is of a similar flavour. A loner is brought out of their shell. 

🍧Cookie Dough: bakery au – cookie dough proves that a bit of baking can make anything better. Your characters now live in a bakery au, whether they work there, or come as customers, they can’t resist the sweet aura. 

🍧Cookies and Cream: soulmates – it's a match made in heaven and without one, the other just feels incomplete. Your characters are soulmates, but how their fates align is up to you. 

🍧Rocky Road: rags to riches – it's been a long road. Cinderella, a lottery winner, a sudden inheritance. You decide how your character gets their windfall. 

🍧Pistachio: rare pair – pistachio isn’t the most popular, but it’s there. Your pairing isn't a common one, but we know you can make it delicious. 

🍧Bubble Gum: slow burn – a bit of chewing is in store. So we will anxiously savour the slow burn between your characters. 

🍧Butter Pecan: mutual pining - a pecan isn’t the same as a pine nut, but it’s close enough. We want to see your characters yearn and even lust all while facing obstacles; whether their own fear of rejection, shyness, or social expectations, they just can’t get to each other. 

🍧Birthday Cake: secret admirer – it doesn’t have to be your birthday to have this flavour. And your secret admirer leaves you gifts every day, but just won’t give you the one thing you desperately want: their identity. 

🍧Butterscotch: childhood friends – every kid likes butterscotch. Your characters have been friends forever, but could they be more? 

🍧French Vanilla: stranded/locked in - vanilla, but make it fancy. Forced proximity to the max. Whether your characters have to work together to escape or survive, or just need to wait out the night, they’re stuck together. 

*toppings are optional, you do not need to use one for your submission.

🥄Sprinkles: a special event - a wedding, a party, a baby shower; make your setting a special get together. 

🥄Chocolate Syrup: established relationship – your characters are already involved, with each other or someone else, adding a bit of messiness to the plot. 

🥄Graham Crackers: flashback – a brief trip into the past reveals something important. 

🥄Gummy Bears: bad luck – your character is just having a bout of misfortune. 

🥄Bananas: eavesdropping – your characters overheard something they shouldn’t have, or misinterpreted a whisper. 

🥄Cherries: meet-cute – this can be fluffy or a stereotypical first meeting gone wrong 

🥄Toasted Almonds: heartbreak – your character is going through a heartbreak 

🥄Oreos: marriage of convenience – your characters marry for the greater good, but maybe not their own 

🥄Peanuts: revenge – someone's getting revenge 

🥄Caramel: drunk/delirious/not in their right mind – one or more of your characters is not thinking straight 

We encourage sundae bar patrons to share this post, both to boost this challenge, or for your own purposes (requests, etc). Thank you all and enjoy your ice cream! 

This challenge is open to all fandoms and characters.

🍒Dark creations are accepted but we will not accept underage, incest, or bestiality. Please don’t forget to add warnings to your works appropriately.

🍒For written pieces, there are no word count limits, but we do ask that you add a “read more” beyond 500 words.

🍒We hope that creators can create an inclusive work and encourage writers and creators to use appropriate tagging, ie, f!reader, etc..

🍒 For this challenge, we will accept sequels or continuations to previous works. Please be sure to link the original work in your submission.

🍒Creators may submit three pieces of each medium (up to three visual pieces and up to three written pieces)

🍒Be kind to yourself and to others. We are here to support and include each other.

🍒This is an event for the summer, with a final due date of September 8 for late submissions.

!Tag this blog in your submission so we see it!

[silentcryracha]

❍ ‗ Cooking with Felix ‗ ❍

Pairing : Felix x f reader

Summary : chapter six of a cute standalone miniseries. It's what it says in the title

Genre/ Warnings : scenario/imagine/headcanon, drabble, fluff, crack lol, disasters in the kitchen but that's it

Word count : 990 words (longest yet)

A/n : Just got the news that him and Seungmin are living together...they'll live off brownies and cookies I fear. Also the green muffins story it's true, that's me I'm bitches

ps: There could be grammar errors. Do NOT repost on other socials. Leave feedback if you feel like it, otherwise enjoy! ♡︎

masterlist

series masterpost

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You and Felix both had a thing for the kitchen. Wether this was good or bad, well, it depended on the situation.

Felix had an extraordinary gift for baking sweets, specifically. His cookies, banana bread and brownies were renowned for being amazing. And that's honestly impressive, it does take a certain type of precision to bake.

On the other hand, when it came to actual cooking...like salty meals...well!

He tried. He really tried. He just didn't have the same gift at handling salt as he had with sugar. Like than one time he wanted to surprise you and tried key word tried to cook seafood pasta...

"Hi Lixie" you called out as soon as you arrived home.

"Hi angel, I'm in here!" he replied, and when you understood that his voice was coming from the kitchen, as well a certain smell, you just had to take a deep breath before walking in.

"Oh wow! Did you make something nice?" the sweetness in your tone along with a kiss on his cheek covered a bit of the fear.

He smiled widely, making a funny excited noise as he kept stirring the spaghetti and sauce in the pan. To be fair the smell was not bad per se, it was just a bit strong since it was seafood. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad?

"So how is it? I actually added a bit of spices because I didn't think the color of the sauce was quite right." he talked casually, as you sucked in the inside of your cheeks to try and desperately activate some salivation as well as sedate the sting caused from the pepper.

"Mmh", you took a generous sip of water nodding, more to try and not disappoint him too much than to agree.

"It's certainly...savory" you smiled, clearing your throat, "Maybe a bit too spicy for me you know? I'm a bit weak ahah"

His face drops a bit, in confusion at first, since he knows that's a lie and you handle spice well. Or better than him, regardless.

So he reaches for his fork, rolling some of the spaghetti on it, then putting it into his mouth.

As soon as he chomps down, his jaw freezes. His brown eyes glaring at you like you cooked the damn pasta.

"How is-"

"Shut up" he interrupts while spitting the bite out in a piece of paper.

But thankfully he barely, if ever, got baking wrong. It had become almost a 'saving grace' for Felix. He had to bring a housewarming or dinner gift? Cake or sweet bread. He wanted to make a snack for you or the members? Brownies or cookies. He needed to ask forgiveness? Pick either of the previous options.

On the other hand, if that was his strong point, it definitely wasn't yours. The most you could do was have pre-packed and measured ingredients, maybe then you could avoid fucking it up.

Lord knows you became as much as a liability as he did when you tried to use the oven.

As soon as the boys finally got a break, Felix walked back to his bag, fishing out his phone, actually meaning to write to you.

But you wrote first! And what he saw made him a little worried but mainly smile, endeared. It's just his nature to always be positive after all.

hi bub <3 how's practice going?

I saw this recipe on tiktok and I kinda tried to make it with what we had at home lol

It's still in the oven tho so I think they'll be ready just in time when you get home

say hi from me, laters <3

Felix smiled and responded with a selfie of himself pouting, saying he can't wait to be home and wash up. And was also looking forward to this treat!

Famous last words...

"Okay I need you to be a bit open minded right now"

"Right" he nodded, still in his practice clothes. He had just stepped foot into the apartment and already smelled something burning.

"They- uh- listen they're a bit ugly, a bit melted let's say...but it doesn't mean they'll taste bad!" he was genuinely trying not to laugh with all his might, seeing you so flustered.

"Let's see the creatures, then"

"Oh my God don't call them that" you yelled, effectively making him lose his shit and start laughing. He raised his hands in defeat.

"I'm just saying! I don't even know what you made, you keep calling them 'them'!" he explained. You waved him off with one hand.

"Yeah yeah, okay", you bent down a bit to open the oven, which actually didn't exactly smell bad, it just smelled a bit intense. You probably overcooked whatever it was, he thought.

Nothing could've prepared him for the absolute failed laboratory experiments that you put on the table. He truly couldn't even tell what they were supposed to be. Mini cakes? Muffins?

The only indication was the paper wrappers that, fortunately, contained the -most certainly- radioactive results.

He bit his bottom lip, slowly walking closer to inspect the situation.

"So...what were they supposed to be, angel?"

"Uh...blueberry muffins?" you responded sheepishly. He nodded slowly, closing his eyes to try and contain himself.

"I see." he courageously reached to take a tiny piece of dugh -the one that didn't explode, that is- and tasted it.

He chewed, genuinely trying to savor it and see if it was any good. He sighed.

"I think that something was wrong in the main dough, angel. That's why it kinda exploded and didn't rise properly." he explained sweetly, pulling you closer by the waist.

"How about we set aside these green hulk babies and tomorrow, since I've got the day off, we don't try again together?" he smiled when he say you smile behind the hand covering your face.

"Okay" your voice sounded small, like a scolded kid. He chuckled, kissing your forehead at your cuteness.

"Okay."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[radiant-reid]

The Right Person

request:

things spencer would say to his ex who’s his ex but not really his ex bc their hearts always belong to the other but is actually his ex bc they called it quits but just bc it’s over doesn’t mean it’s really over cuz he’s just: last slide

Summary: Right person, wrong time... at least until there's a part two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (angst, sort of)

Content Warning: a tiny spicy moment

Word Count: 3.3k

Masterlist | Navigation

Spencer has always jumped into things too quickly. It's the cocktail of being a romantic, coming from a broken home, failing with most social relationships, and the desperate need for a family.

So when Y/n came along, all smiles and beauty, he moved too fast. Fell is probably a more accurate verb. He fell in love so quickly without any logic that he couldn't help proposing a year in and marrying her six months later.

She offered him support and unconditional love. And for the first time in a tough five years in the FBI, he felt like the world wasn't completely terrible.

The whirlwind relationship would have been much better if taken slowly. It might have even worked out. With their fast pace, neither of them could keep up and after four years, trying to make it work wasn't worth it. The therapy, fights, and long periods without speaking wasted time and drained them both emotionally.

It was like fire. Hot and heavy or warm and comforting, but they were destined for a burn.

Sure, they loved each other more than anything, and they would forever argue that they're soulmates and the timing was at fault.

When Beatrice was nine months old, it was clear things wouldn't, so for her sake, Spencer moved out, the fighting stopped, and they could be friends.

For three months, they've been doing well with their co-parenting routine. Since Spencer had spent so much time away during their marriage, Y/n didn't have to get over the feeling of loss.

Maybe some of that could be accounted for by the fact it still felt like they were dating, the magnetism between them still volatile.

It's Saturday when Y/n's baking in the kitchen. She's yet to enquire about selling it, probably because they're yet to properly get divorced. Somehow, it doesn't feel weird for her to live in their marital home. She ignores how little it feels like they're broken up, especially when she's eagerly anticipating him coming home back from a case. He's not even coming to see her, but she's changed out of her pajamas and put makeup on.

"Guess who?" A voice says while the matching fingers block her vision.

If she didn't know that voice like the back of her hand, she would have freaked out. "You're so close to losing your key, Spencer Walter Reid."

He pulls his hands away, resting his back against the bench with his body facing her. "Boring answer. I would have accepted sexy ex or the smartest man alive." He says, smiling his perfect wide smile.

He looks good, a golden glow still surrounding him, and his shirt fits him tightly around his muscles. She's allowed to say that as his eventual ex-wife, right? It's more of a compliment to herself for attracting attractive, intelligent men. That's how she justifies it anyway.

"Who's been inflating your ego, loser?" She teases.

Repartee of their level is something no one else could ever offer him, and he cringes when other people try. "Jealous?" He asks.

Yes, she is. She'd love to shower him with compliments. Tell him about how nice his hair looks a little bit longer, how he should wear more light blue because it really is his color, how good he smells, and some less innocent things as well. The jealousy boils in her at the thought of someone else doing that. Still, she resists.

"That someone else has to vacate the bathroom for hours each day so you can do your hair? No." She lies. It's a lie on all levels.

Unimportantly, he doesn't spend that long in the bathroom, and he's about the furthest thing from a narcissist there is, but deeply, she would jump at the opportunity to be locked out of the bathroom while he spends far too long in the shower and be greeted with the gorgeous sight of a towel wrapped around his hips and his chest showing.

"Okay." He lets it go, and it annoys her that he won't believe the time. "Can I have some cookie dough?"

"Say please." She directs.

He pouts too much like Beatrice. "Please." He complies before opening her mouth.

She frowns, unsure if he seriously wants her to hand-feed him cookie dough. The answer is yes because he doesn't shut his mouth and tell her it's a joke. She scoops some up, putting her fingers into his mouth. He doesn't let them sneak out without wrapping his lips. It's suggestive, and it doesn't disgust her.

"You'll get salmonella." She tells him when he finally lets her fingers out of his mouth. She tries not to blush like mad while she wipes her fingers on a kitchen towel.

"You'll have to look after me then," Spencer says, justifying it. "As the person who gave it to me."

She shakes her head. "Gross."

"Why are you baking on a Saturday?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at her. He's suspicious whenever things change in her behavior, more so than anyone else's.

"I'm anticipating being busy tomorrow." She answers ambiguously.

It was on purpose, but the goal wasn't to make him curious and ask more questions. She just wasn't jumping at the opportunity to hear his opinion on her love life.

Unfortunately, his curiosity peaked when she started speaking. "Why?" She mumbles out an answer that he doesn't catch. "Come on, don't be shy."

"I'm going on a date." She says finally, avoiding looking at him.

That knocks him off guard, the smile slipping from his face as he steps back. Quickly, he forces himself to say something recoverable to hide the hurt and shock he's feeling at the unexpected news. "Does he know you're married?"

He knows he has no right to be upset about it. Not only are they not exclusive, but they're, in no way, romantically involved. It's why there's no bite in his words, nothing vicious in his tone.

It hits him harder with every passing second. Her statement is something he never expected, and questioning why that is while standing in the middle of their kitchen with her in a beautiful new top, yeah, it's gut-wrenching.

She holds up her bare left hand, shed of a wedding ring. "He doesn't, no."

"What's his name?" Spencer asks next. There are a million questions on his mind, but he keeps the conversation casual.

"Bradley."

She feels guilty for it, unsure if it's cheating guilt or mom guilt, and she's forced to constantly remind herself that it's okay, she's allowed to say yes when she gets asked out and be swept away by someone else.

His next move, to her, seems predictable. Whenever he's looking for more information, he stays quiet, waiting for her to feel awkward enough to elaborate. Even though she used to read him like an open book, she can't see that he's processing, replaying their worst moments-the moments that led them here- in his head.

She keeps talking, annoyed that his old trick is working when really she's just breaking his heart more. "He's a defense attorney, but he accidentally took my coffee the other day."

Spencer resists the urge to scoff because 'accidentally.' He's seen Morgan use the move a hundred times: pretend to mix up the coffees, apologize, and seal the deal by asking if he can make it up to her. "Switching teams, I see." He interrupts, predominantly so that he doesn't have to hear anything else. "And a new top." He mentions. Again, a tactic to get her to stop talking. "What color is it? It would look really nice as a feature wallpaper."

He does that, too, only complimenting things adjacent to her. Talking about fucking interior design instead of just saying she looks nice pushes her buttons, and she knows where his are.

"Yeah, I was wearing a jacket in a similar color, so I'm hoping it's a subliminal message." She admits. "Plus he's tall and very attractive.”

Spencer wants to scream something along the lines of 'I'm 6'1, I have three PhDs, you've told me I'm handsome after you held my hair up while I puked after drinking far too much, and I'm so goddamn in love with you,' but he can barely admit the last fact to himself.

"So he's got brown curly hair and sparkling brown eyes?" Spencer teases her, and she rolls her eyes. That dumb eidetic memory would never let him forget the descriptors she'd given him, and his cocky attitude would never stop mentioning it. "It's not your fault you have a type. Scientifically-"

"Shh." She requests, pressing her finger to his lips.

Without thinking about it, like it was second nature, Spencer purses his lips and kisses her skin. After letting it linger for a moment, she takes it away and turns back to what she's doing.

Again, he draws her attention back to him, cupping the cheek furthest away from him and turning her face to look at him. Once she is, eyes locked on his, he holds her other cheek. He steps forward so that he's so close to her that her breath gets trapped in her throat.

Those fingers on her skin make her feel things she shouldn't be feeling, and her heart starts to thump in her chest when she sneaks a glance at those beautiful veins. Maybe her skin is hot or maybe his fingers are just cold but the contrast sends shivers all over her. It's hard not to think about all the times they've been inside her or how they look wrapped around his cock as he lines himself up with her sex.

"Y/n, if he lays a hand on you, I swear to god." He says threateningly, and it would worry her if she didn't know him so well and if it wasn't so hot.

"You don't believe in god." She calls him out, raising her eyebrows in challenge.

"I can find anyone, anywhere." She can't debate that. "And if he lays a hand on you, I'll kill him or put him in jail for the rest of his life. Your choice."

He's acting like he's doing her a favor, letting her decide how he'll hurt someone who hurts her. It's an odd declaration to be making, contradictory to every bit of his sweet nature, and she doesn't hate it.

"What if I ask- beg for it?" She questions him.

"Oh, I'm not worried about that." He's really not.

He would do immoral things that would make him lose his job and even go to jail if someone hurt her, but the deep feelings he's disgusting as an overprotective bravado against someone assaulting her is really just because he can't stand the thought of someone else being with her.

He's not worried about it sexually. She might be anticipating not being home for the night, but she's not the type to ask a first date to get rough with her. What's got him on edge is her being someone else's emotionally. They might be telling everyone they're not together, but if her heart belongs to someone else, there's no chance of him getting her back, and that's all he wants.

His lips are so close that she could kiss him, but the magnetism makes it challenging to resist. She yearns for the feeling of warm lips against hers, more specifically, the pretty pink ones she's peeking at.

They've had slips before. It's been three weeks since their last one. Every time, she swears she won't do it again, but she's ready to tear his clothes off and fuck him in the kitchen.

She's daring him to make that dangerous leap, and he's about to.

The cries of a woken-up one-year-old through the baby monitor snap them back into a harsh reality before their lips can touch. They both wonder if it's horrid that they forgot why he's there. Spencer lingers for a moment with her face in his hands before he breaks away from her painfully.

"I'll go." He says, leaving her standing there stunned with cheeks hot and a pounding heart.

She has a moment to recover, but it's not enough, and soon Spencer's back in the room with the sweetest baby in his arms. She's giggling, clinging to her dad, who she loves dearly. If Y/n didn't love Beatrice wholeheartedly, she'd be jealous she wasn't enough for Spencer to spend time with. But she can't be. Not when Bea has the greatest dad in the entire world, and she deserves every inch of his love.

"Kiss momma." Spencer directs, holding her up to Y/n's cheek.

She plants a kiss that's mostly saliva on her mom, and despite how messy it is, it makes Y/n grin. "How'd you sleep, baby?" She asks, knowing they'll be no reply. Her vocabulary is limited to three words: mom, dad, and love.

"Not so well last night," Spencer answers like it was intended for him.

He sits on a bar stool at the kitchen island, sitting Bea in his lap. "Spencer," Y/n warns, glaring at him.

"Your mom's mad at me." He stage-whispers to Bea. "I never know why."

"Should we start with lying to a child?" She wonders, but it's playful, not insulting. "Add in some pesky comments."

Spencer pouts, holding Bea up so she can see it and copy her father. "Oh, she loves them." He assures her. "And I love you. So much."

Y/n smiles in adoration. He might be difficult to be in love with, but he's the best dad ever. Spencer catches her staring, it's pretty obvious when the bowl of cookie dough sits abandoned on the counter.

"You look so similar." She says, trying to prevent the awkward since and slightly too romantic looks.

"Need another one to look like you?" He jokes, or maybe it's an offer. She can't really tell.

She scoffs, shaking her head. "I'm alright, thanks."

"But she's so perfect." He coos, her entire hand holding his pinky finger. "How could you not want another one?"

She chuckles at his baby fever. It is practically impossible to not want another child when theirs is so incredible, but they're only masochistic towards each other.

"Don't go getting random girls pregnant, Spencer." She jokingly advises him.

“I’m only ever going to get one girl pregnant.” He tells her.

He’s messy. In fact, they’re messy together, and he can’t keep his dick in his pants, but it’s not a problem he has with anyone else.

"That's possibly very nice." She says, frowning as she tries to figure him out.

"You're lucky." He rephrases.

She laughs, shaking her head. "You're lucky I don't kick you out now."

"Whoa, I get it." He teases. "It's someone's time to get lucky, hang a sock on the door and all that."

"I highly doubt you got any in college." She reminds him.

"Or now." He adds.

It should be weird. Who casually discusses sex with an ex?

"Yeah, I noticed one of your hands seems stronger than the other." She quips, although there's no discernable difference. They're both equally delicious.

"Mm, reminds me, I need more lotion." He mentions, playing along with the joke. "Vanilla, right?"

She fake-gags. "That's literally disgusting." She chides. "Do not go and get the same lotion I have to jack off."

He shrugs casually. "It's a free country."

"You're disturbing." She reiterates, reminding herself he said it to get her flustered.

"Don't flirt with me like that, or I might start thinking you like me." He warns, fluttering his eyelids at her.

She does feel like she's falling in love all over again with him when it's all flirting and comfortable.

"You'd be begging if I was flirting." She assures him, and it's true. Spencer begs like no one else.

"Alright, I think that's time to go." He decides, clicking his tongue and looking at Bea again. "Your mom's too into me for her own good."

That is hitting the nail on the head. She's into him and she always will be, but it's not wise, and it compromises her self-respect time and time again.

He gets up, bouncing Bea on his hip and walking around the bench. She leans forward to kiss her happy baby before playing with her soft hair. "Just admit you lost, Spencer." She tells him.

A little grin lights up his features as he refuses to comply with her directions. "I never lose." Oh, except for his one true chance at happiness and a family with the most remarkable woman in the world.

"Those beautiful big brains." She coos, moving her hand to his hair to part his curls properly.

"I'm sure yours are equally, if not more, beautiful." He says, once again making her stomach slip with the eye contact. "Smaller of course."

She scoffs out a laugh. "Bye." She says. "Her bag's in the hall."

"When do you want her back?" Spencer asks, holding the baby up so her cheeks can be kissed an obscene amount of time.

Their custody arrangement is nonexistent. With Spencer's hectic schedule and their good relationship, there's never been a need to make it official. Bea's always his priority when he's in the District, and that keeps Y/n happy.

Not fully happy. She'd like to see Bea, and her dad, every day, and she's too far from that with the latter Reid to ever be completely satisfied with her life. Months later, she's still convincing herself she can one day not look at him and wish for something unrealistic.

"Whenever." She says. They start walking towards the front door, slowly, both lingering and dragging it out. "If you need to go, you can bring her back."

"If you're in the middle of a date?" He wonders cheekily, grabbing Bea's bag from the floor.

She glares at him, not finished with her sentence. "Otherwise, I'll text you."

"Call." He insists. "We're not texting people."

"Fine." She agrees, swinging open the door. She takes Bea into her arms, giving her a tight hug. "Love you, sweet baby."

"Mom, love," Bea mumbles back, placing her hands on Y/n's cheeks.

Spencer gets the sinking feeling in his chest that he always gets leaving, but it's worse when he's taking Bea, who's Y/n's entire world. It makes him feel nauseating amounts of guilt. How can he be okay with putting her through the loneliness of a house that big being empty?

He smiles at her as he takes Bea back. "Thank you."

She not sure what for and she doesn't have a chance to ask before he's walking out the door, strapping Bea in her car seat. She waves at her mom, looking as happy as always.

Spencer stops before he gets in his seat. "Y/n?"

"Yeah?" She asks, straightening up her posture.

She's hoping he'll say what she wants to hear, although she doesn't know what that is. A Spencer fact would keep things simple, but saying something about how they can get back on track, that she shouldn't go out tonight, would ruin their carefully stacked house of cards.

"He's a lucky guy." He says, and it kills him to know that it used to be him taking her out, watching her grin from across the table, making her laugh until she's begging him to stop, driving home with his hand on her thigh, watching her take off her makeup and become more beautiful, and ending up cuddling in bed, their baby just a room over.

And he can't ever have that again, not with her, and he can't fathom it with someone else.

Y/n goes back inside once he's driven away, hoping for once, after he leaves, that she can not think about him.

It doesn't work. As always, she's stuck thinking about Spencer.

Tell me what you think

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[asapjens]

lucky fan!!

CELEBRITIES: olivia rodrigo x reader

SYNOPSIS: congratulations! you just won a contest to meet your celebrity crush!

CATEGORY: fluff

WORD COUNT: 748

It all started like a normal day for you. You woke up and immediately dove into your phone. You were scrolling on Twitter when a notification popped up on your screen.

It was an Olivia Rodrigo Instagram notification!

Olivia was your favorite singer and celebrity crush, so you had all her notifications on for all her social media.

The new post said, "WOULD U LIKE 2 MEET OLIVIA RODRIGO? Now u can win a day with a really spicy Pisces ! The only thing you need to do is…"

You almost screamed when you saw the post. As you scrolled through the contest rules, you couldn't believe it. You knew it was probably impossible to win a day with Olivia, but who cares? She was worth it.

A few days later, and the wait was awful. The blaring sound of your phone jolted you out of your morning daze.

As you rubbed your eyes and squinted at the screen, "Hii, i can’t wait to meet u! Thank you for participating! Guess what!! I won a day with youu!" You read the message at least five times before it finally sank in.

You were going to spend a day with your celebrity crush.

Fast forward to the day of the big meet-up, and there you were, you picked a really good outfit, got your hair done, did your nails, and almost threw up with excitement.

Trying not to hyperventilate as you waited for Olivia to arrive, suddenly, a whirlwind of energy barreled into the room, and there she was, flashing that perfect smile of hers.

"Hey there! You must be the lucky winner! I'm Olivia," she said, extending her hand. You started to stutter and shake until you managed a greeting. Great start, the real cool. I bet Olivia was impressed by your coolness.

Olivia scanned you and said “It’s really nice to meet you, it looks like I’m the lucky one” You chuckled at her words.

The day started with a trip to an amusement park. Turns out, Olivia's a rollercoaster junkie, and you guys found yourselves screaming your lungs out on every ride.

As you stumbled off the last rollercoaster, Olivia turned to you with a mischievous glint in her eye and challenged you to a game of whack-a-mole. Let's just say, you've never seen someone wield a mallet with such determination. But she did it all to win you a teddy bear!

After the chaos of the amusement park, you suggested settling down. Olivia asked you if you wanted to go for a quiet lunch at a little café she knew around.

What started as starstruck silence turned into a deep conversation about life, love, and a shared love for music. You discovered that you and Olivia had more in common than you ever thought possible.

As the day progressed, your interactions became more natural, and soon, you were laughing like old friends.

Olivia shared hilarious stories about her experiences in the music industry, and you couldn't help but tease her about her rollercoaster-induced bedhead. It was like spending time with a long-lost friend.

As the day wound down, you guys found yourselves strolling through a park, the setting sun casting a warm glow over everything. "I can't believe the day's almost over," Olivia said with a sad smile.

"Yeah, but I'll always remember the day I got to hang out with a superstar," you replied, feeling a pang of sadness at the thought of parting ways.

As you guys said your goodbyes, Olivia pulled you into a spontaneous hug. "Hey, can we keep in touch?" she asked, her eyes earnest.

"Absolutely," you shouted, feeling the blood coming through your cheeks as you realized the desperation in your voice.

Olivia just laughed and said, “You look really pretty right now”. “I’m gonna die,” you blurted out. You and Olivia laughed.

And just like that, a day that started with a dream come true ended with a new connection.

As you watched Olivia leave, you couldn't help but smile. Who knew that winning a contest would lead to such an incredible day filled with laughter, adventures, and the beginning of a new friendship? Or maybe more than a friendship.

[justkindalivin]

Shotgun

a/n: AHHHHH hello!! I’m Lottie and I've been so horrifically obsessed with dealer Ellie that it's not even remotely okay. I had an idea for a fic and instead of requesting it from someone else, I decided why not write it myself! I’ve never posted any fics before bc I’m lowkey ass at writing so if any dialogue is awkward or the grammar is bad I'm so sorry :(  Anyhoo, I hope you enjoy it, have a great day I love you ♡    part 2

I kinda modeled the reader after me subconsciously, so the reader is a bit shy and bi (sorry to my lesbian baddies I luv yall, its only one line). Also, I just made up a random roommate named Sam, very sorry if your name happens to be Sam. 

Summary: After being dragged to a party by your roommate, you escape out to the porch for some air. Not realizing it was already occupied, you end up having a lot more fun at the party than you thought you would 

warnings: language, modern!au, dealer!ellie, weed, shotgunning, collage!au, things get the tiniest bit spicy (only a tad)

wc: 1.6k 

-------------------

The music pounded in your ears as you pushed past all the sweaty bodies in the middle of the room. Parties had never quite been your scene, but Sam had begged you to come with her and that girl does NOT take no for an answer

This all started with Sam bursting into your shared dorm, ripping your headphones out of your ears, and standing beside your desk with her hands on her hips. “Bitch, you never come out with me! It's like all you do is sit in the dorm all day, you gotta get out there!!” She excitedly screamed, pulling you to your closet to pick out what you should wear. 

You and Sam had been randomly paired as roommates but quickly got close despite how different the two of you seemed to be. Sam was always out at parties being social and seemed to know absolutely everyone on campus. You on the other hand... well were almost the exact opposite. You always joked that you were like the crotchety old man of your floor who only left for food or class, and just wants all those damn kids to quiet down while you’re trying to sleep. 

“Sigma Nu is throwing tonight, you HAVE to come with me. I’ll be lost without you please please please!” 

Sam was, in fact, not lost without you. She had practically ditched you the minute some frat boy asked her to play pong with him, leaving you alone and painfully sober in a sea of drunk college kids. As much as you loved Sam, she always seemed to do this whenever you come out with her. She’d beg that it wouldn't be fun without you but would leave as soon as you got there and you’d be stuck on babysitting detail for her drunk ass for the rest of the night. After about the fifth push and second drunk couple not noticing you leaned up against the wall and making out basically on top of you, you decided to leave in search of some desperately needed air. Weaving through sweaty drunk people should be a fucking Olympic sport because holy shit- you barely escaped with your life. After going through the kitchen, you finally found your way to a sliding door, quickly getting it open and stepping out into the cool night air. 

“Jesus christ why did I fucking come here,” you say under your breath, leaning against the porch railing and putting your head in your hands “And I can't even leave because I have to make sure Sam’s okay- god damn it”. Scrubbing your face with your hands, you look up at the sky and get lost in your own head until the sound of someone clearing their throat startles you. 

You quickly whip around, hand on your chest, to look at the other person who has also been occupying the porch without your noticing. A girl with short auburn hair and beautiful green eyes stands leaning up against the house. Her face is dotted with freckles and she’s wearing a comfy-looking flannel over a plain white tee, one hand shoved into the pocket of her jeans and the other holding a joint between two fingers. She is, without a doubt, one of the prettiest girls you’ve ever seen. You’re so entranced by her that you barely even notice when she says something to you. 

“oh...uhm- what?” you oh so eloquently reply, internally debating if you should throw yourself off the porch to make your escape from this awkward ass interaction. The girl smirks as her eyes scan you up and down- if you didn’t know any better you would think she was checking you out. 

“I said are you good? No offense but you kinda seem like you're freaking the fuck out” She repeats, smirk still present on her face as she brings the joint up to take a drag from it, blowing the smoke in your direction.

You blush, embarrassed that someone had been witness to your mini breakdown. “Yeah, I’m good. It's just a lot, you know? I don’t go to parties too often.” As soon as the words leave your mouth you cringe internally. Don’t go to parties a lot? You seriously couldn't think of anything cooler to say? Way to embarrass yourself in front of the hottest chick you’ve ever met. Your downward spiral continues until the girl breaks the quiet with a chuckle

“I get that, frats aren’t really my thing either but I get good business here so... here I am”. You nod your head, looking back up at the sky. “I’m Ellie, by the way. What's your name gorgeous?”. Your face feels like it's on fire, your brain practically short-circuiting trying to process that this actual goddess just called you gorgeous. You quietly tell her your name and when you look back at her, she has a wide smile stretching across her face. “Pretty name for a pretty girl.” 

Holy shit this girl is going to be the death of you. You’re sure that your face is going to melt off from how hard you’ve been blushing, the ability to speak has left you altogether. You’ve had flings in the past, with both boys and girls, but no one has ever been so brazenly interested in you. You find yourself desperate to know more about her, maybe run your hands through her hair and cup her face as you lean in for a- WOAH. You’re goin wild right now, you need to cool down

“So um... what do you sell?” You ask, trying to change the topic and give yourself some time to chill out. Ellie looks at the joint in her hands, then back at you with raised eyebrows. “Right right, sorry stupid question” you huff while looking down, embarrassed yet again by your lack of rizz. Ellie lets out a full-on laugh, pushing herself off the house and making her way over to you.

“You ever smoked before, pretty girl?” she asks while leaning on the railing next to you, so close you can feel the heat radiating off of her. Looking up, you’re surprised to see that her face is so close to yours that your noses are practically touching. 

“A few times, not a ton. I cough a lot though, so it's kinda embarrassing to do it with other people”. Ellie taps off the ash at the end of her joint, seemingly contemplating something before turning her attention back to you

“Well if you’re down to smoke, we can try a different way that maybe will help you cough less. That is, only if you want to”. You’re surprised by how quickly you accept her offer, asking her what she had in mind. Ellie moves from beside you to directly in front of you, planting her empty hand on your waist and bringing the joint she held in her other hand up to your face. “Okay, so it's called shotgunning. Just open your mouth after I take a hit, sound good?”. All you can do is nod, mesmerized as she brings the joint to her lips. The moon reflects off her soft skin, the end of the joint burning a deep orange as she inhales. After her hit, Ellie looks over at you and you do as she said. 

Flicking away what little is left from her blunt, Ellie cups your face with her now empty hand and brings her mouth to yours. As she’s kissing you she blows the smoke into your mouth, but you can barely concentrate, too focused on the feeling of her lips on yours. After only a few seconds, Ellie pulls away but keeps her forehead pressed to yours and you blow the smoke in her face as you both giggle.

You reach up and brush away a bit of hair that had fallen to cover Ellie’s eyes, running your fingers down the side of her face until you are cupping her cheek as well. You look at each other for a beat before you both lean in, lips meeting again. Ellie caresses your cheek before her hand moves to join her other one on your waist, finding their way under your shirt and stroking the skin there. She tries to deepen the kiss, licking your bottom lip which you playfully deny. Suddenly, Ellie pulls away for a moment to lift you up onto the porch railing. Your legs fall open and Ellie steps between them, connecting her lips to your neck and kissing down the side to your collarbone. Letting out a breathy moan, you grip the hair at the base of Ellie's neck and throw your head back. 

-SCHWOOP-

The noise startles you and you pull away from Ellie, much to her annoyance. Looking at the sliding glass door, you notice some obnoxious frat boy has thrown it open. 

“Hey, you deal right? I need a pre-roll if you have em”. Talk about a fucking cock block. Ellie all but growls into your neck, whipping around ready to give this dude the verbal thrashing of his life when you stop her by placing your hand on her shoulder. 

“It's okay, I need to find my roommate and get going anyway. But um... do you have your phone on you? Maybe I can give you my number and we can do this again sometime?”. Ellie smiles at that, pulling her phone out of her back pocket and handing it to you. Feeling bold, you give her one last kiss on the cheek before heading past the frat guy and back into the house.

You really hope she texts you. 

----------

an: tf kinda noise does a sliding door make? Def not schwoop but thats all my brain could come up with lmao. so thats my first ever fic, my writing could use some work so i’m def open to any feedback! Stay super freaky, have great vagina, I LOVE YAAAA 

[oh-saints]

can you write unrequited love with mason mount like you did in "sick"?

uuuu as spicy as this gif coming right up!

done

when you decide you have enough of mason playing with your heart.

mason mount x bff!reader

word count: 1.1k

note: i actually had the inspiration to try writing from the 1st person POV during my subway ride to work but it went *poof!* when i got to my desk ☹ and as usual, i happen to always write around dawn so ofc this is not beta-read.

you shouldn’t have said yes to him.

you shouldn’t have said yes.

you shouldn’t have gone to the club.

you should’ve gone to your therapist because this is getting out of hand.

how many times are you going to say yes to every of mason’s call?

“you really need to stop sticking up for him just because you’ve been friends for years,” you know that your therapist’s going to repeat that line, just like every other session you’ve had with him. he’s not wrong, your therapist, but he’s not entirely right because he doesn’t know what you truly feel.

and you never let him know what you truly feel.

out of duty? out of love? heck, if you know.

the bass at the club is pounding as hard as it can your head, in hope to quiet down the sadness and devastation and desperation and depression away from the dance floor. but it certainly doesn’t stop your tears from running down your cheek at the sight of mason kissing a random girl so passionately like the world’s ending tomorrow.

well, in all honesty, your world’s ending tomorrow because you recognise it. you know what’s coming and it’s synonymous with all those sad songs and tragic stories you used to combine together when you’re younger. nothing beats reading slice-of-life books with a good, fitting soundtrack, no?

ironic how the combo’s now beaten by reality.

you know mason’s going to go home with that girl—another club, another random long-legged bimbo—and you know he’s going to either dump her in the morning or date her by the end of the month. if it’s the latter, then he’ll certainly break up before summer comes around the corner and the cycle’s going on a full circle once more.

he’s truly committed to the line he said when he’s doing casuals only the last time Tatler interviewed him—god, you’re there and you feel like puking. and by doing so, he’s also truly committed to breaking your heart every chance he gets.

yes, his girlfriend—whichever she is—will always stir up something so you and mason won’t hang around while they’re dating. but that’s not what breaks your heart the most. not even the words that flat-boobs idiot said about you. it’s when he comes back to you after dumping the girl and acts as if nothing happens.

yet, you always says yes to his plea of going to a party with him to celebrate his newly single life. even after knowing the pattern that he’d always desert you later on and you have to take a taxi home, all alone.

your therapist once asked, “have you confronted him about how he feels?” and you could only answer it with, “most of the time, i forget.”

but you know yourself better. you don’t want to burn the bridges.

however tonight, different than any other night, the bridge might as well been burnt down to ashes the moment your tears fell because fucking hell. you recognise the girl; new, upcoming starlet that comes from golden spoon. you want to hate her like usual for ending your world by tomorrow but you can’t because she’s basically everything you’re not and you know they’re a match.

he’s boisterous, she’s calm. he’s an active social butterfly, she’s everyone searches for.

but you can’t bring yourself to hate her because it means happiness to mason and it’s what matters to you the most. and it means he’s staying for longer than 3 months, which further leads to you probably sidelined for longer than usual.

you’re supposed to hate it, the fact that you’re getting replaced by someone miles better. but you can’t and you hate yourself instead. you start blaming yourself with all the things only an insecure person can think of, but you know you’re not insecure.

mason made sure of that—he’s good at building confidence—but he’ll never know why. he’ll never see why.

ironic because he’s got the clearest set of brown eyes and you will always love them till the ground buries you 6-feet down, even when you know those eyes will never see the watermarks on your skin because when it comes to you, he’s always blind.

blind to the fact you’re the one who stuck up when the teachers at school looked down on him going through the footballer path; blind to the fact that you’re the one who finished his homework whenever you knew he forgot because you wanted him to prove those teachers wrong too; blind to the fact that you were the one who put an umbrella over his head when he got turned down by the girl he liked; blind to the fact that you move down to London to be with him.

blind to the fact that you do that because you love him.

the very reason you never read those ‘childhood friend to lovers’ trope.

but unlike the endings of those kind of books where the characters reciprocate feelings, mason mount doesn’t even know how to appreciate someone who’s always by his side. he thinks it’s always something given to his plate and only then it feels like someone drops a bomb on your head.

how can you love someone so deeply when he’s stuck in his own head?

“i’m going home, mason,” so you cut their public make-out session to say it to his face, and the man’s shocked at your use of his first name. you never do that, not once in your entire time being friends. “i’m done.”

poor boy only thought you mean by done for the night. that you’re done because it’s tiring to see him doing his deeds like every other night. imagine his shock when he calls you the next week for another party, only for his calls to be answered by “the number you’re calling does no longer exist.”

he frowns so deeply ben had to straighten the crease out. there’s nothing happening in your life that can possibly lead you to cut off your line or to change your number. he calls your office and your assistant answers, as usual, but when he says he’s looking for you, the line goes silent for a full minute.

“hello?”

“mason,” a deep breath. “she resigned a week ago.”

“what? why?”

“if only we know,” and he knows your assistant’s not lying because he knows regret when he hears one. the company’s best asset leaves at her peak. “she goes in to the CEO office one minute and the next, she’s out of the building for good. boss says she’s done here.”

then it clicks him.

you’re done with him, once and for all.

and it’s too late for him to fix it.

[tameodesza]

the bodyguard

₊˚ʚ Bodyguard!Kevin x Male Escort!Shawn ⁺ॱ˖

₊˚ʚ Summary: Men threw themselves at Shawn all the time, but he felt empty inside. He was an object used to fulfill their needs. And at the end of the day, they went back to their lives, to their loved ones who were unaware of their dirty little secret named Shawn Michaels. AO3

Shawn’s fingers clawed at soft silk sheets. Moans flowed out of his mouth like a broken faucet as he rode his client until they were both seeing stars. Large hands tightened around his waist before the man took over, thrusting into Shawn at a rate that told him he was close.  

“Come on, daddy. Give it to me,” Shawn encouraged, his voice cracking at the end. 

After another hard thrust, Shawn was sent over the edge. He fell over in a heap, his arms no longer able to hold himself up as he came undone. He laid limp as his body continued to be used, come smearing between their stomachs at the force. It wasn’t long before the man went still, holding Shawn in place with a low groan as he spilled into his condom. 

Their hearts pounded in tandem, breaths ragged from exertion. The dewy sheen of their sweaty skin reflected off the flames of cinnamon-scented candles scattered around the fancy hotel room. Shawn took a deep breath, sighing blissfully at the spicy aroma that collided with the heavy smell of sex. It wasn’t typical for Shawn to linger, but this was his final client of the night – Hunter Helmsley. So, he was in no rush. 

Shawn buried his head into Hunter’s neck, wincing as the man pulled out. He shifted to rest on his elbow, a lazy smile on his lips as he watched Hunter tug off the condom and toss it aside. Just as Hunter reached for his clothes, Shawn said, “Come lay with me.” 

It was a command that had Hunter blinking in surprise, but he was quick to settle back in bed with the blond bombshell. “I thought you didn't do pillow talk.” 

Shawn trailed a finger across Hunter’s broad chest with a sly grin. “I make exceptions for my favorites.” 

“Favorites, huh? How many you got?” 

Shawn’s hand traveled slowly up Hunter’s chest, settling on the side of his neck. “You really wanna know?” 

He didn't. Part of the fun for Hunter was pretending that Shawn only had eyes for him. Hunter raised a hand, placing it softly onto Shawn’s cheek. “How much I gotta pay to be your only one?”  

Shawn lifted a brow in interest. He trailed his hand back down Hunter’s chest, swirling a finger teasingly around Hunter’s left nipple. “Depends on how much you think I’m worth, baby.”  

And there goes that charm that made men puddy in Shawn’s hands, the confidence he’d built since his stripping days.  

He was young, too young – freshly turned 18 – when he first hit the pole. It had been out of pure desperation and sheer survival to make some quick money after getting kicked out of his parents’ house. He knew it was coming. His parents had been counting down the days until Shawn would no longer be their concern. He had a troubled youth, and with his strict religious upbringing, he’d been a disappointment to the family one too many times. But no amount of preparation could've prepared him for how hard life would become. 

From hole-in-the-wall strip joints to discreet gentlemen’s clubs, Shawn went wherever the money was. With a pretty face like his, he became a hot commodity. But in just a short few years, he wanted out. Though stripping paid his bills, it was a cut-throat business. His inexperience had been taken advantage of. Promoters were shady. Dancers would smile in his face and stab him in the back. Men became too handsy. He’d been robbed after leaving the club twice – once at gunpoint. It had gotten scary, and it wasn't worth losing his life. 

Everything changed the night Shawn worked at a gentlemen’s club near the richer part of town. He got approached by a high profiler, Ric Flair. Shawn was used to guys hitting on him, but the request the man made was odd – accompany him to some social event as arm candy. Shawn initially brushed him off, but when Ric pulled out a stack of cash, offering him thousands of dollars for his time, that’s when Shawn learned how much his pretty face was worth. 

Ric was a well-connected man, and through him, Shawn was able to meet some of his most elite clients. Doctors, lawyers, top execs – all wealthy men that funded a lifestyle Shawn could only dream of. He played the game. He learned how to swindle men, how to make them feel special, how to make them fall in love with him. He learned how to adapt and become whoever they wanted him to be. 

They all seemed to have their own reasons for his services. Some were on the down low, married, or just looking for a good time with a cute guy. Shawn never cared to ask. He only cared about the money. He was lucky enough to not have to take his clothes off for most of them. But the more money got thrown his way, the blurrier the line between escorting and prostitution became. 

It was through Ric that Shawn met Hunter. Admittedly, Shawn knew more about him than he should – entertainment exec, closeted bisexual, unhappy marriage, hates his wife, staying in it for the kids. But Hunter was one of the sweeter guys Shawn serviced and one of his top spenders. It became the norm for Shawn to receive Rolexes, diamonds, and expensive cologne that Hunter would request Shawn to only wear for him. He spoiled him rotten, so the blond didn’t mind learning the little details of Hunter’s life that would slip into conversation. 

“You’re worth so much more than you know.” Hunter treaded a hand through Shawn’s hair, pulling the blond closer until their foreheads touched. He whispered, “You have no idea how much I want to make you mine.” 

Shawn’s smirk deepened. Men were too easy. “You have no idea how many times I've heard that. But it means so much more coming from you, daddy.”  

“Oh, yeah?” Hunter’s eyes went to Shawn’s lips, shifting closer until they’re just a breath away.  

Before he could move further, Shawn stopped him. “Ah, ah. You know the rules. Lips are off limits.” Except for one man. 

Just then, they heard a firm knock. Shawn’s eyes flitted to the door before looking back at Hunter. “Time’s up. Make sure to tip Diesel on the way out.” 

Hunter let out a deep sigh. He knew the drill by now, but it didn't make leaving any easier. “Sure thing.” He slinked out of bed and grabbed his boxers from the floor. Shawn made himself comfortable, taking in Hunter’s sculpted body one last time as he got dressed. 

After slipping on his shoes, Hunter pulled his wallet from his pocket, leaving a wad of cash on the nightstand. “Same time next week?” 

Shawn eyeballed the cash, noting that Hunter overpaid. “Whatever you want. I’m yours, Mr. Helmsley.” 

Hunter would’ve melted in a puddle had it not been for the persistent knock on the door reminding him to leave. He nearly jumped back when he opened the door to Shawn’s seven-foot- tall bodyguard looming over him like he was ready to pounce. Hunter slipped him a $100 bill as he exited the room, already thinking of another excuse to tell his wife, Stephanie. 

Diesel shut the door behind him, taking off his dark shades to observe the room. Shawn’s laced lingerie lay discarded on the floor near his skimpy robe. Money sat untouched on the nightstand. Candles still burned as sex lingered in the air. A used condom littered the floor. His boss was sprawled out on the bed, looking completely spent. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

Shawn gave a slack smile when his eyes met Diesel’s, making grabby hands towards his bodyguard. Diesel rounded the bed to Shawn’s side before sitting next to him. He placed a hand on Shawn’s head, tucking away loose hairs that were stuck to his face.  

“Are you good?” Shawn nodded, humming in content as Diesel lightly scratched his scalp. “Did he treat you well?” After another nod, Diesel said, “Use your words.” 

“Yes, big daddy.” A blush rushed to Diesel’s cheeks despite his stoic expression. Shawn snorted, always getting a kick out of making him squirm. But his laughter died down when he noticed Diesel reaching for the comforter. “You don’t believe me?” 

Diesel didn’t respond and Shawn didn’t fight him when he pulled back the comforter. Diesel went still when he saw the light bruises on Shawn’s hips and thighs.  

Shawn sat up with a sigh, hugging his knees to his chest. “Don’t look like that, big guy. I let him do it. Riding dick ain’t for the faint-hearted.” And when you rode dick as good as him, he couldn’t blame Hunter for wanting to keep a tight grip.  

That put Diesel a little at ease. He had to rough up a few of Shawn’s clients in the past who seemed to not understand the concept of consent.  

Diesel reached out a hand, rubbing at the knee that usually gave Shawn trouble. A slow smile spread onto Shawn’s lips. Diesel’s hands were always more tender than anyone who ever touched him. But his smile wavered when Diesel asked, “How long do you plan to keep doing this? You don’t have to-” 

“Hey. No being captain save-a-hoe.”  

“I’m not. I’m just asking. I mean, you’ve been doing this for a while now. You’ve made good money. You should give yourself a break.” 

Shawn was quiet for a moment. “I already told you – when I save up enough money to buy a ranch and get you a truck.” 

“Shawn-”  

“When all of this is over and I’m retired on my ranch, you deserve to focus on yourself for once. Start that trucking company you always wanted and hit the road.” 

It was a sweet gesture, one that made Diesel appreciate Shawn more than the blond knew. But at the moment, Shawn was his main priority. 

“Shawn, I don’t need a truck. I just need for you to be ok.” 

“I am,” Shawn emphasized. “Seriously. Stop worrying so much. You’ll get wrinkles.” 

That got a small smile from Diesel, which Shawn took as a win. “Unlike you, I don’t get paid for my looks. I’m paid to worry about you, blondie. Do you remember the last time you told me not to worry? You ended the session with your hair ripped out.” 

Shawn exhaled, subconsciously touching the spot where his hair had filled in. “Yeah. Bret was a kinky bastard, wasn’t he?” That was putting it lightly. 

It happened in Shawn’s early escorting days. The days before he knew what his boundaries were. Bret had been one of Shawn’s rougher clients. Shawn assumed he had some internalized homophobia based on their interactions. Their sessions were usually filled with gay slurs and hate sex that bordered on sadism.  

There were many times that Shawn should have walked away. But Bret paid really well. Shawn couldn’t afford not to keep up with his new expensive lifestyle. However, Diesel wasn’t happy to see the mess that Bret always left behind.  

The last straw came when Diesel was forced to stand by and hear Shawn’s muffled cries coming through the hotel door. He couldn’t tell if Shawn was really hurt or if it was part of the act, but Shawn never allowed him to enter until the session was over. When Bret left, Diesel hurried inside to find Shawn curled on the floor in the fetal crying, loose strands of hair surrounding him and his body covered in raised welts. It took hours of comforting Shawn to get him out of the poor headspace he was in.  

Shawn never told him what all happened that night, but it was the catalyst for them to create safe words and signals for Diesel to stop the session if things became too much.  

Shawn reached for Diesel’s hand, saying lightly, “Hunter’s one of the good ones, remember? If something went down, I would tell you. Promise.” 

Diesel looked down at their hands. He gave Shawn’s hand a squeeze, which was returned by the blond. “Did you at least finish this time?” 

Shawn answered as if it was obvious. “I always finish with Hunter. That nose of his isn’t the only thing that’s big on him.” 

“Didn’t need the details.” 

Shawn snickered and playfully tugged at Diesel’s arm. “But Kev-” 

“It’s Diesel,” he corrected.  

“Not to me.”  

There was a pregnant pause as they looked into each other’s softening gazes. Their relationship had been an odd one from the start. They met when Diesel worked security at one of the clubs Shawn stripped at. After Shawn got robbed the second time, Diesel offered to take Shawn home every night. Shawn didn’t have many friends, so he appreciated having someone look after him. When Shawn decided to do escorting full time, Diesel was the only person he trusted to keep him safe. 

They hooked up a few times between then and now, but made sure not to go any further than that. It made escorting much easier when feelings weren’t involved. But it was easier said than done. Shawn was a huge flirt. Diesel was a huge cuddler. Shawn was a good kisser. Diesel was a good fuck. The waters grew murky as they shifted between coworkers, friends with benefits, and something more complicated. 

Diesel glanced at the clock. “It’s getting late. Do you need anything? Water? Snacks?” 

“You.” 

Diesel lifted a brow with a humored breath. “Me? Well, lucky for you, I’m not going anywhere.” He was expecting Shawn to laugh as well, but all he received was a faraway look in Shawn’s eyes. 

“Why do you stay?” Diesel tilted his head, the abrupt question catching him off-guard. But Shawn didn’t give him a chance to respond. “Everyone leaves me, Kev. Family. Friends. Clients. But you? After all of these years, you’re still here. Why?” 

The question floated between them, echoing in Diesel’s head as he searched for an answer. In short, Shawn was his boss. Paid him handsomely. Gave him whatever days off he needed. Why would he ever want to leave the job? 

But that was a copout answer.  

It wasn't about the job. They had history. Diesel was one of few people that saw Shawn for more than his body. They got to know each other beyond the surface. He was more than a bodyguard. He was his friend, his protector, his emotional support human. And on lonely nights, his lover. As much as Shawn depended on him, Diesel depended on the blond just the same. Shawn had a hold on him, except this time it wasn’t a strategic ploy to get money or expensive jewelry like with other men. It was an organic connection between them.  

But that answer was deep, too deep for what they were. So, he said what needed to be said without saying too much. “Because I care about you.” Diesel held his gaze with Shawn, letting those words sink in. “I’m here because I want to be, not because I have to be, Shawn. And the day you decide to leave this lifestyle, I’ll still be here, protecting you from whatever comes your way.” 

Shawn wasn’t sure what he expected to hear, but that was exactly what he needed to hear. Men threw themselves at him all the time, but he still couldn't help but feel empty inside. He was just an object used to fulfill their needs. And at the end of the day, they went back to their lives, to their loved ones who were unaware of their dirty little secret named Shawn Michaels.  

Sometimes, he just needed to be reminded that he wasn’t alone, that he had more to offer than his body. Fortunately, he had Diesel by his side. 

Shawn nodded with a small smile. “Thank you.” And that was all that needed to be said.  

Diesel took a good look at Shawn and knew his role. “Alright, let’s get you nice and clean. It’s been a long night.” 

Shawn reached out his hands with a pout like a greedy child. “Carry me?” 

Diesel had to hold back his eye roll, but he did as he was told. Shawn giggled gleefully when Diesel scooped him out of bed bridal style. “Oh, how I love a man that takes care of me.” 

That’s how their nights usually ended – Diesel tending to Shawn after a session, cleaning him, dressing him, tucking him in bed, counting the money they made for the day. And sometimes, when it got later in the night, Shawn would give Diesel a soft kiss that grew into something more, a kiss that held a secret that neither would acknowledge in the morning. 

[bigsoftmarshmallow]

Honestly, I'm trying to find a very specific sort of shipping dynamic picture that I just eat up like, yum.

It's kinda like this:

Only, in a:

Sort of way.

Like, dude's yandere af, but & this totally befuddles him beyond imagination, but she basically just sort of *deep heavy sigh* "Okay, I can see that there's no getting outta this & I am legitimately concerned for your mental health, so I'm gonna just accept that this is my new lot in life & do my best to try to get some therapy into your ill-socialized head."

But also, "Damnit, you call me your Darling/girlfriend/fiancée/wife & keep me locked up?!?! Bitch, you better start treating me like a damn Darling or I will make sure you regret it!!!"

Like, she gets so flipping pissed that he's trying to keep her inside like a dang housepet & will make this fact known!

He gets upset about her trying to escape & she just looks at him like, "TO TOUCH GRASS & FEEL THE SUNSHINE ON MY SKIN!!! Where exactly do you think I'm going??? You have miles of monsters out there!!!"

And, if he insists on keeping her inside, she's just very passive-aggressive about telling him how his "prisoner" needs enrichment. Ya know, books, art supplies, cards, SOMETHING to hold off the slow encroachment of insanity. But in that jilted lover sort of way.

So, like, she's intelligent & perceptive & cunning & even manipulative & is receptive to his advances, but she basically says, "Listen, man, you wanna relationship with me, then fine. But I'm gonna make this the healthiest freaking relationship you've ever had, if it kills us both."

Like, she takes no bs & demands the respect due a wife/girlfriend/queen/whatever.

And I just have no clue what one would call that ship, but I wanna read a dang fiction about it with Ganondorf or Vlad Masters as the yandere.

Like, just imagine all the typical yandere tropes, but the victim is just sort of approaching it the way one might socializing a spicy kitten.

And... I just desperately want this relationship. Even just a scene would do! 😭

I have this daydream all the time, so I am so happy to hear you love this plotline too! I have trust issues, so having a man that is obsessed with me and only me? I can fix everything else, just don't betray me, dearest <3

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Wind Waker Ganondorf

Setting: A grand, dimly lit chamber within Ganondorf's fortress. His lover, defiant and resolute, faces him.

Lover: (sighing heavily) "Alright, I see there's no getting out of this. But if I'm going to be stuck here, I expect to be treated like the precious Darling you claim I am."

Ganondorf: (frowning, confused) "You think you can make demands of me, woman?"

Lover: (crossing her arms) "Yes, I do. You want me to be your queen? Then treat me with the respect a queen deserves. I'm not a pet to be caged."

Ganondorf: (grudgingly) "And what do you propose?"

Lover: "For starters, I need books, art supplies, something to keep my mind sharp. If you want a sane queen, you'll give me the means to stay sane."

Ganondorf: (muttering) "Very well. But do not think this makes you free."

Lover: (smirking) "I wouldn't dream of it. But you'll see, Ganondorf. This will be the healthiest relationship you've ever had, even if it kills us both."

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf

Setting: The throne room of Ganondorf's dark castle. His lover stands before him, determined.

Lover: (sighing) "Okay, Ganondorf, if I'm stuck here, we're doing this my way. You call me your fiancée, but keep me locked up like a prisoner. That ends now."

Ganondorf: (scowling) "You dare speak to me this way?"

Lover: "Yes, I dare. I need sunlight, fresh air, and mental stimulation. You have an army of monsters outside. Where do you think I'm going to run off to?"

Ganondorf: (pausing) "What do you want?"

Lover: "Books, art supplies, something to keep me from going insane. And if you ever truly cared for me, you’ll respect my needs."

Ganondorf: (reluctantly) "Fine. But do not test my patience."

Lover: (smiling) "Deal. Now, let’s work on making this the best relationship you’ve ever had."

Twilight Princess Ganondorf

Setting: A dark, foreboding hall in Ganondorf's castle. His lover confronts him with fierce determination.

Lover: (deep sigh) "Alright, Ganondorf, you win. But if I’m your wife, I demand to be treated like one. Not a housepet."

Ganondorf: (smirking) "You think you have the power to demand anything from me?"

Lover: "Yes, because if you don't, you'll regret it. I need books, art supplies, anything to keep me mentally stimulated. I won’t be a passive prisoner."

Ganondorf: (intrigued) "You are bold. Very well, you shall have what you need."

Lover: "Good. And if you really care about me, you’ll start treating me with respect. This relationship will be healthy, or it will be hell."

Ganondorf: (chuckling) "You amuse me. Perhaps this will be interesting after all."

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf

Setting: The war room of Ganondorf’s fortress, filled with maps and strategy plans. His lover stands resolutely before him.

Lover: (sighing) "Ganondorf, if I’m going to be your queen, then start treating me like one. Keeping me locked up is not how you treat someone you care about."

Ganondorf: (raising an eyebrow) "And what do you propose?"

Lover: "I need books, art supplies, something to keep me sane. I’m not running away. Your army of monsters ensures that."

Ganondorf: (nodding slowly) "Very well. You shall have your distractions."

Lover: "And start respecting me. If you want a relationship, we’re doing this right."

Ganondorf: (grinning) "You are a fierce one. This will be... enjoyable."

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf

Setting: A grand hall with windows overlooking the vast landscape. His lover faces him with determination.

Lover: (deep sigh) "Okay, Ganondorf, if I’m going to be your queen, then treat me like one. I’m not a prisoner."

Ganondorf: (thoughtfully) "What do you want?"

Lover: "Books, art supplies, anything to keep me sane. I’m not trying to escape; I just need mental stimulation."

Ganondorf: (nodding) "You shall have what you need."

Lover: "And respect me. This relationship will be healthy, or it will be nothing."

Ganondorf: (smiling) "You have spirit. Very well, let us see where this leads."

Demise

Setting: A dark and foreboding throne room, filled with the aura of darkness. His lover stands defiantly before him.

Lover: (sighing) "Alright, Demise, if I’m stuck here, then treat me like the queen you say I am. Not a prisoner."

Demise: (glaring) "You dare demand anything of me?"

Lover: "Yes, because if you don’t, you’ll regret it. I need books, art supplies, something to keep me from going insane. Your minions outside ensure I’m not escaping."

Demise: (considering) "Very well. You shall have your distractions."

Lover: "And start respecting me. If you want a relationship, we’re doing this right."

Demise: (grudgingly) "You are bold. Perhaps you are worthy of being my queen."

In each scenario, the Ganondorfs and Demise are initially taken aback by their lover’s demands but ultimately agree, intrigued by her spirit and determination. This dynamic creates an interesting and unique take on the yandere trope, where the captive actively works to make the relationship healthier and more respectful.

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BONUS:

Title: "The Gilded Cage"

Scene: The Castle of Twilight

The sun set beyond the horizon, casting long shadows through the tall windows of the castle. Within its imposing stone walls, Ganondorf paced restlessly, his fiery eyes occasionally flicking towards the grand oak door at the end of the hall. His “darling,” as he fondly referred to her, was beyond that door, where he kept her safe from the dangers of the outside world. The very thought of her escaping or being harmed filled him with a primal rage.

Inside the room, the atmosphere was markedly different. She sat by the window, the cool evening breeze rustling her hair. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she looked out at the world she once freely roamed. Turning back to the room, her eyes narrowed at the sight of the gilded cage she now called home.

The door creaked open, and Ganondorf entered, his presence commanding and filled with dark energy.

"My darling," he greeted, his voice a mix of adoration and possessiveness. "Why do you sigh so? Are you not happy here, with me?"

She turned to face him, her eyes sharp and unyielding. "Happy? You call this happiness, Ganondorf? You keep me locked up like a prized possession, but refuse to treat me with the respect and care you claim I deserve."

His brow furrowed in confusion. "I keep you safe. The world outside is filled with monsters and dangers that you cannot even imagine. I protect you because I love you."

She took a step forward, her stance defiant. "And in doing so, you’ve made me your prisoner. If you truly loved me, you’d understand that I need more than just protection. I need freedom, sunshine, and the feel of grass beneath my feet. I need books, art supplies, something to keep my mind from withering away in this cage."

Ganondorf’s expression softened, but his resolve did not waver. "You think I can simply let you roam free? The risk is too great. I cannot bear the thought of losing you."

Her eyes flashed with determination. "Then meet me halfway. You call me your darling, your fiancée, your wife. Treat me as such. Provide me with what I need to keep my sanity, to feel human. If I am to be yours, then you must learn to respect my needs and desires."

He stared at her, his mind racing. The idea of compromising, of bending to her will, was foreign to him. Yet, her words struck a chord deep within. She was not just any captive; she was intelligent, perceptive, and strong-willed. She demanded more from him than he had ever been willing to give.

"Very well," he finally said, his voice low and measured. "I will provide you with what you need. Books, art supplies, whatever you desire. But remember, you are still mine, and I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe."

A small smile tugged at her lips. "I accept your terms, for now. But understand this, Ganondorf: I will continue to push for more. I will make this relationship as healthy as possible, even if it means challenging you every step of the way."

He stepped closer, his eyes locked onto hers. "You are a peculiar woman, my darling. Most would cower, yet you stand and fight. Perhaps that is why I find myself so drawn to you."

She met his gaze unflinchingly. "And perhaps that is why I will never give up on making you see reason. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a request for a library to make."

As she walked past him, Ganondorf couldn’t help but feel a mix of admiration and frustration. This was not the dynamic he had envisioned, but it was one he found himself reluctantly respecting. His darling was not a mere possession; she was a force to be reckoned with, and he would have to learn to navigate this new reality.

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BONUS BONUS: The room was opulent, furnished with the finest antiques and draped in luxurious fabrics. A grand chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the scene. Vlad Masters, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, paced back and forth, his usually confident demeanor faltering as he glanced nervously towards the locked door. Behind it was his "darling," the woman who had unexpectedly turned his life upside down.

Inside the room, she sat on the edge of an overstuffed armchair, her arms crossed and eyes narrowed. Her expression was a mixture of frustration and determination. She had been in this gilded cage for too long, and her patience was wearing thin.

Vlad finally gathered the courage to enter, his eyes meeting hers with a mixture of longing and apprehension. "My dear," he began, his voice soft and almost pleading, "you must understand, I only want to keep you safe."

She let out a deep, heavy sigh, her gaze unwavering. "Safe? You call this safe, Vlad? You keep me locked up like a prisoner. I can't even step outside to feel the sun on my skin or touch the grass. What do you think is going to happen to me out there? There are miles of monsters, yes, but I'm not planning an escape. I just want a semblance of normalcy."

Vlad's face twisted in confusion and hurt. "But you are my precious darling. I can't bear the thought of anything happening to you."

She stood up, her posture strong and defiant. "If I'm so precious, then start treating me like it. You want to call me your girlfriend, your fiancée, your wife? Fine. But I'm going to make this the healthiest relationship you've ever had, even if it kills us both. You want me to stay? Then I need books, art supplies, something to keep my mind occupied. You can’t expect me to sit here and go insane."

He was taken aback by her boldness, but there was something about her strength that only made his obsession grow deeper. "I... I didn't realize how much this was affecting you," he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. "I'll get you whatever you need."

Her eyes softened just a fraction, seeing the cracks in his otherwise impenetrable facade. "Vlad, I understand that you're... different. But if you want this to work, you have to trust me. I won’t run away, but I need my space, my freedom within these walls. Treat me with the respect I deserve, and maybe, just maybe, we can make this work."

He stepped closer, reaching out to take her hand. She didn't pull away, but her eyes were still hard, watching him carefully. "I promise," he whispered, "I'll do better."

She gave a small nod, squeezing his hand slightly. "Good. Because I won't settle for anything less."

[turbulentscrawl]

🐇 Intro and Navigation 🐇

Hello, I'm Buns! I'm 21+, overworked, and forever desperate for more x-reader content, so I've decided to make some of my own in the small amounts of spare time I get.

This blog posts ns/fw under the tag "#spicy content" minors, please dni with posts under this tag.

⭒ ⭑ ⭒ ⭑ ⭒ ⭑ ⭒

Masterlist pt.1 (General & A-L) | Masterlist pt.2 (M-Z)

Other Works That I Like (opens my reblog tag)

Requests: CLOSED (Current: 84)

Match-Ups: CLOSED (Current: 13)

Currently Accepting For: Identity V

Please read my Rules below before submitting anything!

🐇Rules for Requesting 🐇

Please do not rush me. Requests will be filled as I have time and inspiration--and because of this, a lot of the time they will be completed out of submission-date-order.

I can write headcanons, short scenarios, rankings, and matchups. Most of what I post won't be longer than a few thousand words tops, so please don't expect anything too elaborate from me for now.

I do not accept "Emergency Requests." While I'm okay with writing heavier subjects, they can be difficult to touch on, so I'll fill them at whatever pace makes me comfortable.

If I've already posted general/relationship HCs for a character, please be a little more specific for any requests regarding them. ie don't send "nsfw for so-and-so" if I've already done basic nsfw HCs. Something even just a little more specific, like "nsfw for so-and-so with a shy s/o" is fine.

I can write for male or female reader, but prefer to keep things gender-neutral as much as possible. If you request a specific gender for the reader in a request, but I determine that it would have no bearing on what I write, I will disregard the specified gender and keep it gn. (if you'll notice in my writing, I try to only use the pronoun "you" for the reader, avoiding even "they" unless sentence structure demands it. Just makes it easier for everyone to be immersed.)

I WILL WRITE- sfw, ns/fw...most things, really.

I WILL NOT WRITE- crossovers (including "reader is like this character), character x character (but poly with a reader is fine), yandere, cheating tropes, non-con, pedo, incest, or glorification of self-harm/suicide

CHARACTERS I CURRENTLY WILL NOT WRITE FOR: Hastur, Violetta, Bane, Bonbon, Will Brothers, Kiegan, Kreacher, Freddy, Servais, Kurt, Murro

Additionally, my baseline treatment for IDV is explained here. I can fill requests with setting differences, just please specify when you send it in.

🐇FOR MATCHUPS! 🐇

Matchups can be sent through Submissions or Asks. Please do NOT dm me your information. If you use asks, please be sure to number any split messages so I can keep them together. If you use submissions and would like to stay anonymous, please specify at the start of your matchup so I know not to post the original.

Things I require for matchups

Your sexual/romantic preferences. You may provide your pronouns and/or gender identity if you feel inclined, but it is not required.

A DETAILED description of your personality. Be honest! Specific things that help me are your MBTI, Enneagram, love languages (giving and receiving), social levels, hobbies, personal flaws, life goals, and relationship deal-breakers. The longer the better, honestly, which is why submissions are open.

Things I do NOT require

Your physical appearance. I don't need this at all, but I will keep it in mind if you choose to include it. I might get it in my head that you'd look especially cute with someone in particular.

Matchups that I provide will include a Primary Match, with my reasoning, some headcanons for your ship, and a Runner-Up Match.

[lavenderskye29]

Okay but, Oh my fucking god your Lovesick Papyrus is just amazing. Like, even without copying anyone his OG design is already so freaking cool.

Also, how would they feel if Y/N (I am Y/N in this case wjdjwbf) was like "You’re way cooler than any Papyrus or Sans!" After they show themselves to Y/N? Like, Y/N genuinely falls in love with them!🤡💗

OH MY GOODNESS!!! MY HEART!! That's so kind! 💙💙💙 Thank you!

LS Papyrus would undoubtedly fall even more head over heels for you. Hearing his darling fawn over him after his first, honest appearance would get him all sorts of flustered, excited, and hungry for more of your attention. His possessiveness of you skyrockets.

'Y/N loves me... Loves ME! They said so, and Y/N wouldn't lie about that!'

Your words translate to: "You're mine, and I wanna be yours", in his head. This means he DEMANDS to be involved in all of your affairs.

At first it's pleasant. He listens to what you have to say about your day, only calls during work when you're free, buys you cute outfits and things that you like... but as time passes and his affection for you grows, things get a little... difficult. He starts listening IN to your whole day, not even needing you to explain it anymore. He can recount it better than you. He starts calling insistently while you're at work, not letting you turn off the ringer until you answer him.

Every phone call you make... he's jumping in and speaking for you. Sometimes he'll answer the phone or your texts himself, not allowing you to know who's trying to reach out you

When you try to step away from him, he finds ways of forcing you under his control.

He starts by draining your bank account and putting himself in charge of your finances. You'll have to speak to him if want to use any of your own money. Along with that, the things he starts buying you are more... spicy. Since you don't want to wear the lingerie he got you, he guesses you're not THAT desperate for food, or for money to pay your bills. He can wait till you're ready to take him seriously. He is, after all, very patient.

He makes sure to make you beg when you come to him next, however. There's nothing he enjoys more than seeing you on your knees, with tears in your eyes begging him to feed you, clothe you, take care of you... it's so easy to make you bend.

If you still fight him him though, he won't hesitate to target your family. He'll tell you his intentions: that he'll drain their accounts, ruin their social lives, He'll even go so far as to hire people to go after them. He has no qualms playing dirty, as long as he gets to keep you where he wants you, which is right by his side.

[localgirlbecomesobsessed]

Meet the OCS

(I changed cathrines house)

I suck at drawing so hopefully these descriptions will be okay :( i didn’t really proof read as I’m writing this on four hours sleep 😭but the brain rot is real.

Xena- permanent •_• face, is actually very emotional inside just struggles with showing it, once she’s more comfortable with the people she’s around she’s becomes more expressive much to her detriment as it becomes harder to hide how she feels. Loves sweet things, romance stories(she’s a manhwa girlie), rock music, coffee,flowers, horror films . She’s quiet and has a soothing raspy voice. Shes too chilled out for someone in her situation or is she just ignoring her terrible circumstances.

Short black hair, piercings-helix;lobes;daith, she desperately wants a tongue piercing but is too scared. She has brown eyes and a small scar on her right cheek and a huge scar on her thigh(goes from the knee to midway)-she dresses quite punk and has permanent eyebags. She does have an arm sleeve of sunflowers/sun themed on her left arm that covers other scarring(she was in a horrific accident)she always keeps it covered with clothing tho due to judgement.

She got sorted into vagastrom and hates being an inspector as she has to keep herself from acting out.

Hobbies: judo, reading, going to concerts;gardening;propagating succulents

Her parents and her got in a horrific car accident when she was 10, she was the only one to survive, she was taken in by her cousin who was only 24 and trying her best at the time. Xena acted out quite badly after the trauma so she was put into judo to help get her aggression and energy release, it helped dramatically that she’s continued doing it even at 21.

She’s won some contests but hates competitions as they seem like too much effort.

Cathrine- stressed out to the max get this girl a chamomile tea or a Xanax. She tries too hard and is a total people pleaser, sucks at dealing with authority as she can never say no. She likes spicy food, science, vintage jewellery-she’s highly interested in mythology but keeps this a secret.(due to parents and siblings)

She’s quite talkative if she has to be but if the situation allows her too she lets herself be quiet, she has a sing song voice and used to have a stutter that comes back if she’s too anxious or tired.

Long pink hair, piercings;lobes and upper lobe, red eyes, she has insanely short nails from biting them down too much; she dresses quite preppy but prefers to dress more casual but likes to maintain her image so doesn’t. She keeps herself in quite pristine condition, always doing a five step facial routine, makeup always on point. She just very much always looks put together. She does have a huge social media presence but she isn’t really a full influencer (not like Leo)

She got sorted into mortkranken, which wasn’t a surprise to her- due to her role of inspector she’s one mental breakdown away of trying to find a way to fasten the curse so the stress is over with but she’s doing a good job at maintaining an image of mental stability (for now) tho I’d probably say it’s definitely cracking especially after the events in the most recent episode (7)

Hobbies:studying;shopping;researching myths

She grew up as the youngest of three, her parents had high expectations and they were all set to a high standard, being the youngest she was forever compared to the eldest two especially when she’s failed to succeed in something as well as they did. Her parents were quite volatile to eachother and to the siblings and would forever turn each one against the other. She was the first to leave-at 18 under the excuse of needing to stay nearer to the university-she was studying economics/business administration something she had no interest in but was an insistence of her parents and a condition for leaving. She worked part time to raise a secret fund in order for her to properly be able to leave after she gets her degree. Her relationship with her siblings is strained but got so much better after she left the house, to the point they gave her a ticket to her favourite bands last concert for her birthday.

After the concert the events of the game take place and she’s cursed, she’s been in contact with her siblings who are extremely jealous she’s at Darkwick and she is currently debating cutting off contact with her parents but fears losing her siblings, she does only have one year left after all.

Olivia-the sweetest lady to ever exist, she’s a hard worker who can’t hide her feelings. Absolutely adores animals and is a sucker for anything cute, she used to be quite the rebel but had to quickly grow up after her parents died(not that she wasn’t already quite mentally matured#traumatised) and she had to become her brothers guardian. She has quite a soft sweet voice and loves to chat but only if she’s completely comfortable with the person, otherwise she’s quite blunt. She’ll eat anything but her favourite snack is anything strawberry flavoured. She’s extremely caring and hates to see people overwork themselves despite overworking herself on the daily.

She has bleached white hair and light brown roots growing through, amber eyes and a mole underneath her left eye; she has a lobe piercing and a left helix; she dresses eclectically, sometimes she’s casual sporty, sometimes she’s a party girl, gothy literally depends on her mood and sometimes her brother will dress her up-she is literally Adam Sandler one day and Jessie rabbit the next. She likes brightly coloured makeup and clothes.

She got sorted into jabberwock, when she got to finally look around the nature reserve she cursed the chancellor for making her an inspector when she could’ve been working in the reserve. She doesn’t mind being an inspector and just goes with the flow as long as she’s getting paid and has her brother she’s fine but is trying to help out as much as she can at jabber.

Hobbies:feeding stray cats; sketching;baking;working (she works too much it has to be a hobby)

Olivia was a bit of a rebel, joining a small time gang with other girls when she was 14, her parents didn’t particularly care about her whereabouts as long as she took care of her younger brother Karma, which she tried her best too. They were alcoholics who didn’t care for their children and when Olivia reached 18 they died in a ‘freak accident’, leaving her and her 17 year old brother to fend for themselves. They had nothing, no money or family to look after them, so Olivia took on as many jobs as she could to help provide Karma with all the good things in life, she quit her gang and tried to move on although she would sometimes get dragged into fixing a problem for them. She didn’t go to uni and instead has been paying for karma to go to art school instead (he got a scholarship that pays half and they have to pay the other half)

Now, karma joint Darkwick a week after the events after Haku hears Olivia’s complete breakdown at not having her brother or being able to contact him as they’re both the only thing they’ve got to rely on. she didn’t have the breakdown on Haku but on the chancellor he was waiting to speak to the chancellor about a recent mission the general students went on and accidentally overheard~he waited for her to leave and then refused to leave until he got the chancellor to st least consider the idea.

Haku managed to convince them afterwards that her brother could be targeted by a similar anomaly/ it might help in figuring out a cure if they had someone with the same dna

-the chancellor also did it for her ‘mental health’ and assured Karma they’d provide whatever he needed for his studies, they’ve also promised Olivia they’ll pay whatever is needed for karmas education and life if she dies/ a hasty promise after Haku managed to convince him.

Olivia doesn’t know Haku helped her yet and probably won’t know until the chancellor tells her.

The chancellor most likely brought him in more for the assistance in finding a cure/testing to see if anomalies are more attracted to their blood as well as other experiments.

She was much happier snd brighter after he was brought in and Karma was happy to be with his sister and be in THE Darkwick university.

Karma-outspoken and blunt, despite appearing brazen he has a gentle disposition and is very chill as long as you don’t cross him or anyone else he cares for. He’s overprotective of Olivia and tries to get her to take a break as much as he can. He oil paints and enjoys water colours as a treat, he enjoys having a muse to help him paint and is a bit of a player. He worries Olivia cause he seems to jump from person to person and has been since their parents died. He enjoys sweet food and like Olivia will devour anything strawberry flavoured. He wants to be strong like Olivia and tries to copy how she fights.

Olivia is 23 and karma is 21/22.

He enjoys social media but doesn’t like having a presence on there, he does post pictures of his art on there although some are blurry.

He has bleached hair just like Olivia and black roots that come through, he has a mole just underneath his mouth on the right, amber eyes; he has all lobe piercings;helix;conch; Raith; nose piercing and is debating an eyebrow piercing; he is a pretty boi~ tallish and wears loose clothing that always has some sort of paint splatter on them. He doesn’t care about what he wears cause he knows he looks good although he enjoys picking out outfits for other people-mostly Olivia as he is quite the secret loser with not so many friends although he says it’s cause he focuses too much on his painting. Has a plan to get completely covered in tattoos but is awaiting to hit it big as a painter before he does.

He got sorted into vagastrom and had no clue what was going on, only that they okayed him to spray paint the rooms and do car decals so he’s happy enough. He doesn’t care if someone’s a ghoul and will call out someone on their shit if it’s deserved. No one believes him when he says Olivia can fight, but the pictures and vids he has prove otherwise~Leo is interested in the different sides and likes using his paintings for his TikTok’s and using him as a fake boyfriend along with Sho. He did try to stay with Olivia in the cathedral but in case something happens (like turning into an anomaly) then it’s safer for him to stay there. He doesn’t trust Haku and is trying to now stop both haru and Olivia from overworking themselves.

Hobbie:painting;partying; napping and boxing.

[djarins-cyare]

9 people you'd like to get to know better

Thank you to both @ishabull and @amywritesthings for tagging me! 💖 There were a few more categories in Isabel’s version, so I’m using that template…

Last Song: Ready Now by dodie. Spotify has somehow figured out it’s the soundtrack to my fic and has put it in ALL my playlists! But I love it, so that’s okay.

Favourite Color: Teal if I’m looking for bold, or duck-egg blue if I need a softer pastel.

Currently Watching: Good Omens season 2 when I have time to give the screen my full attention (so mainly on my train journeys to London). When I’m making dinner and doing the dishes, I’m re-watching Elementary. I just finished re-watching seasons 1-13 of Doctor Who as well (prepping for DT’s return!). I’m also halfway through a second viewing of The Clone Wars (bc I was doing a whole Star Wars chronological re-watch), but I skipped ahead to watch Rebels a second time before Ahsoka comes out… and haven’t finished that yet either!

Last Movie: Attack of the Clones (during the above-mentioned SWU chronological marathon). Lately, I haven’t had the time to stop what I’m doing for the length of a whole movie!

Currently Reading: I mean, I’ve literally read nothing but Din Djarin fanfics for the last 24 months or so. On AO3 I take all F/M Din/Reader fics, sort by kudos, and then read everything one by one. I’m on page 15, and there are 20 fics on each page, so I guess I’ve now read the 300 top-rated fics. Right now I’m on chapter 2 of Birdsong by Lilac_Sugar.

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: Definitely sweet. I don’t mind savoury. I cannot deal with spicy, though - I’m a supertaster, so what’s mild to others makes me feel like my mouth is on fire. I would NOT make a good Mandalorian 😅.

Relationship Status: Utterly proud of my singular status, having finally let go of those damaging social constructs that teach us we’re ‘one half of a whole’. I’m not half of anything - I’m independently whole and complete, and instead of being afraid to be alone and desperately chasing the wrong people, I’m letting love come to me when the time is right… jate’kara. Though come back to me when I’m an old crone surrounded by dozens of cats… my opinion may have changed again!

Current Obsession: Continuing in my two-year obsession with Din Djarin. He is my every waking thought. Many of my unconscious ones too 🥰. More specifically, I’m obsessed with perfecting my fic, even though it’s now published, but that’s a neurodivergent thing. I literally won’t be happy until I’ve proofread and edited it to a professional degree. I’m also busy brewing my next fics… doing a lot of planning right now.

Last Thing I Googled: Boring real answer: it was a work thing, I was looking up criminal damage sentencing guidelines for a case I’m working on. Non-job-related more interesting and creative answer: I needed synonyms for ‘desire’ for my writing. There are seriously not enough nouns in the English language for this. I did learn this one: ‘cacoëthes’ - an uncontrollable urge or desire, esp for something harmful; mania. Sounds familiar… 🤔

Currently Working On: See obsession section above. Perfecting Be-All And Endor, and considering what else to write. I currently have 22 concepts and/or summaries, some short, some long, so I’m trying to decide what’s most appealing. It’s difficult! I’m also open to requests, as I think I’d like to do a few one-shots for practice.

No Pressure Tags: @missbabyjay @dins-riduur-anthe @space-cowboy-like-me @katiemando @linzels-blog @nervoushottee @frickatives @davnittbraes @littlewriter

[itsthatpearl]

Layout idea from @secret-smut-sideblog🩸

Hannibal x F!OC

His Amuse-Bouche

Chapter 6: Closer

AO3 LINK

Beth's relationship to Hannibal grows deeper...

(yes this is the spicy chapter you've all been waiting for)

Word Count: 1.1k

Thanks to Em for beta reading <3 <3 <3

TW: THIS IS A HORROR FANFIC. MAJOR DEAD DOVE. SPECIFIC TRIGGERS ARE LISTED IN EACH CHAPTER, BUT THEY CAN SPOIL THE STORY, SO IF YOU WANT TO ENJOY THE HORROR AS BEST AS YOU CAN, GO STRAIGHT TO THE STORY.

SPESIFIC TRIGGERS: Mental health issues (depression, ptsd, anxiety, social anxiety, panic attacks and dissociating), unethical relationships, sexual tension, sexual themes, (CONSENSUAL) sex, fingering, PiV sex, talk about body fluids (vague), horror, gore, cannibalism, vore, bad parenting, rough language, violence, alcohol, light emetophobia, acrotomophilia

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I moaned softly, eyes closed. “You outdid yourself, Hannibal. This was the best one yet” I opened my eyes to see a satisfied smirk. I took another bite from the beef tartare. It melted on my tongue as I took a sip of a young Pinot Noir to wash it down. I bit my lip. “Humans only need one kidney, right?” I asked, trying not to sound too excited. He chuckled quietly and leaned forward crossing his fingers. “Depends, but you are healthy enough to be able to live with only one” he smiled a genuine smile. I laughed and took another sip of the wine. “Have you ever tasted a kidney pie? I do have a great recipe for that” he added. I raised my brow and smirked. “Oh do you now? Maybe we should put that to the test?” I giggled. He smiled and stood up. “I want to show you something” he said softly.

It’s our second therapy session. “Are you afraid of me?” he asks. I look at him confused. “What do you mean? Why would I be afraid of you?” I grip the armchair under me. I am not afraid of him, but I am afraid of him using me. “Of course not” I answer before letting him continue. But he doesn’t try to argue. He leans back and lets me to change the subject. Maybe he knows the real answer already. 

“This is your bedroom?” I said, raising a brow as I looked at the dimly lit room. “Correct” he nodded and came to stand in front of my wheelchair. “I would like you to move to sleep here. I will move all your books and belongings from your own house and room here, if you let me” he said as he took my hands into his. My mouth opened up and I looked around. He wants me to be close. I took a deep breath and nodded. “I would like that very much”. My answer made him smile and he leaned to whisper in my ear: “get on the bed”

I laid on the bed propped up on my elbows and looked at him while he took his shirt off. I removed my clothes too, leaving only underwear on. He got on the bed slowly coming to hover on top of me like a predator to its prey. I slightly bit my lip as he fondled my cheek and neck. “Are you sure about this?” he asked. He knew I was more than sure, but he still asked. He wants me to want this. He wants to show me he cares. He wants me to understand he isn’t just using me. I nodded, smiling and leaned closer to take his lips into mine.

The kiss was soft but quickly turned into more passionate. I gasped but the sound was muffled by his lips devouring mine. His hands moved to grip my hair gently as I started exploring his back with my fingers softly caressing every curve he had on his back. His lips moved from my lips to my neck while my fingers slid up his back to his hair. The lips on my skin were heated and desperate, moving up my neck to nip my ear, which made me moan out loud. Then his fingers started gliding down. I removed my bralette while we kissed and his hand immediately started fondling the soft skin. He pinched my nipple which made me gasp and for payback I nipped his lip harder. Then his fingers continued their journey down my body.

I closed my eyes, gasping for air when he removed the rest of my clothes and started fondling my already drenched folds. He muttered something inaudible in French. I pulled him into a slow, deep kiss as his fingers slipped in. I was not going to last long. The way he listened to my every single sound, every single tensing of muscle and knew exactly how to react to them. I started moaning louder as the speed of his fingers became more erratic. I looked at him and he looked mesmerized. I came quickly and his fingers fucked me oh so sweetly through it while I just moaned and whimpered against his lips. 

After a few minutes of calming down I kissed his cheek. “Do you want to continue?“ I asked. “I want nothing more” he whispered and started to remove the rest of his clothes. I bit my lip, ready to continue while helping him. We started kissing again. His hot breath flooded my every sense as he gently started fucking me. The scent of sweat and quiet whimpering filled the room as our bodies moved in perfect unison. I’ve had sex before, but this was something new. This was something more . When the kisses and sounds started to become sloppier and louder for both of us everything felt like the most perfect symphony conducted by us. “Hannibal, I- I am going to-” I gasped, gripping his hair as I felt the tension building in my lower abdomen. “You are perfect, Bethany'' Hannibal whimpered into my ear. Him saying my full name made my orgasm hit me like never before. We both cried out as he pumped in a few more times before crashing into his climax too. Then everything went silent.

We both laid there catching our breaths, him on my chest. I looked down at him and smiled in pure bliss. He answered my smile with a gentle peck on the lips. He can’t be a monster. He couldn’t be this gentle and caring if he was one. “Can I ask you something?” I muttered quietly, still coming down from my high. “Of course” he said and shifted to lay next to me. “How long have you been… eating… humans?” I asked. He took a deep breath and turned to look at the ceiling. “I was 6 when I ate my sister’s remainings” he answered. I blinked quietly and looked at him, unable to answer. The two children in the photograph that was on top of the fireplace in the living room. Hannibal and Mischa… was Mischa his sister? After a long silence I finally opened my mouth again. “Did you love her?” I whispered. He turned to look at me. “I did” he answered. For the first time ever I could swear I catched a glimpse of sadness in his eyes. “Can I kiss you?” I asked so quietly it wasn’t even a proper whisper. He leaned closer and we kissed slowly. Was he actually able to feel love? Could he love… me?  

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