#DO YOURSELVES A FAVOUR AND READ IT

[flowercrowngods]

The Last Day.

Steve doesn’t remember what drove him here — he doesn’t remember a lot of things lately, not that he’s mentioned that to anyone. They don’t really question these things anymore. Fucky vision, nightmares without sleeping, or things that just get lost in the everyday grind of remembering to do normal things like eat or drink or where the fuck he put his glasses.

So, he doesn’t remember what drove him here, if he was supposed to get something or if he just needed to get out of the gym, needed to breathe some air that’s not filled with anxiety and grief and the pressure of survivor’s guilt and why and how and when around every corner, behind every door, underneath every donated item and in every bite of stale peanut butter sandwiches.

The library was never a place of comfort for him, and he honestly never really cared about it one war or another. If pressed for it, he couldn’t name five books in all of these shelves. He never really looked.

But now, in the semi-darkness, the empty shelves are somehow daunting. All useful books were taken, children’s books donated to all the families that stayed, all science books stolen by people who were sure they could fix this, could get behind this, could build generators and water refineries and all that shit.

Somehow, the negative space in these shelves draws him in, and he takes a deep breath. A breath that Dustin would like, probably. It smells like books. It smells old. It smells like, somehow, somewhere, there might still be a constant in this world. Something that will remain. Like maybe there will always be a library that smells of old books. No matter how often the world will end.

It’s a strange thought. But comforting. He trails the shelves, not really looking at the books, walking too fast still to make out the titles in the dim light, but he refuses to stop. He refuses to stand. To linger.

The next two rows are completely empty, and it makes him shiver. Robin probably has a name for the feeling. Maybe melancholy. Or maybe he’s just haunted. Susceptible to absence.

Or maybe they’re the same feeling.

Blindly, he reaches for a book, because his hands begin to tingle and he really needs something to do before his lungs catch up and his brain finds out that he’s somehow almost about to panic, or to relapse, or to drop to the floor if his legs don’t regain feeling soon.

He keeps walking, the book in hand. It’s a slim edition, bound in leather, and it feels really old. Looks like it, too.

Michael Bruce

He carefully flips it open, the old paper crackling with the movement, and he wonders briefly if this is the part of the library that’s usually watched like a hawk, the part where you’re not allowed to touch the books without supervision and certainly not without reason. Maybe. Maybe this Michael Bruce hasn’t seen a real face in a long time.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to find out that they’re mostly poems—and of course they are, old books are almost always filled with poems.

He opens the book at a random page, still needing to settle his hands, his heart, his mind. The title makes his heart drop. “The Last Day.”, it’s called; still his eyes glide over the lines, intrigued.

Twas on an autumn's eve, serene and calm. I walked, attendant on the funeral Of an old swain : around, the village crowd Loquacious chatted, till we reach'd the place Where, shrouded up, the sons of other years Lie silent in the grave. The sexton there Had digg'd the bed of death, the narrow house, For all that live, appointed. To the dust We gave the dead. Then moralizing, home The swains return'd, to drown in copious bowls The labours of the day, and thoughts of death.

Okay. Sure. So, maybe this Michael Bruce dude is not the best company when the world is sort of ending. But somehow Steve can’t stop reading, and for the first time he kind of doesn’t want to stop reading a poem. This one’s different anyway. This one just… it gets him.

Images of Barb flood his mind. Eddie. Chrissy. Max. Everyone who was lost, everyone who has an empty coffin in their grave and an NDA penned to their name.

To the dust We gave the dead.

The labours of the day, and thoughts of death.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to go back out there. Head to the gym and fold clothes and check the missing posters and make phone calls to find out, to make sure, to keep in touch. The labours of the day. The thoughts of death.

Shaking hands flip the pages, two at once, because he doesn’t want to live the last day; doesn’t want to hear about it. He needs to know how it ends, needs to make sure, needs to find out, just—

A pause ensued. The fainting sun grew pale, And seem'd to struggle through a sky of blood : While dim eclipse impaird his beam : the earth Shook to her deepest centre : Ocean rag'd, And dash'd his billows on the frighted shore. All was confusion. Heartless, helpless, wild.

Suddenly, what little light was left to stream through the windows disappears, stealing the words from beneath his eyes, and before he can look up and breathe, the door to the library bursts open, revealing a panicked Robin.

���Steve?”

“Robbie?”

“You… You better come see this.”

He hears it in her voice. The resignation. Oceans raging as the fainting sun grows pale. Confusion. Helpless, heartless, wild.

He closes Michael Bruce and runs toward her on numb legs, not ready to find out about the new apocalypse he’s gonna find outside the library. And seeing black skies through the windows and pale faces behind them, reflecting against the growing darkness, he wonders if he shouldn’t have skipped through the last day. The Last Day.

Terror in every look, and pale affright Sat in each eye ; amazed at the past, And for the future trembling.

Steve, too, is trembling. And Robin’s hand in his is shaking just as much.

Poetical works of Michael Bruce : with life and writings. William Stephen ed. 1895.

[hxlda-hxlda]

Hi harper, how are you? how’s the weekend treating you? eat anything good lately? anything exciting in the upcoming week or something ur looking forward to? 🩷

ugh my absolute love hello!! the weekend has in fact treated me rather well. i'm exhausted, but good! i'll give you a little run down :)

it was my birthday recently and for the first time i decided i would have an actual birthday party, which was incredibly intimidating to me as someone who usually dislikes their birthday, but my worries were for naught and it turned out so well. lots of family and friends there. i felt so very loved. i probably (definitely) drank too much. it was a lot of fun. i'm only slightly hungover today which is another plus.

i haven't eaten anything particularly good of late, given i work so much and haven't had the time. but i did have many of my cousin's phenomenal homemade martinis last night. i consider it a win all the same.

also!!! kittens!!!

i found these two absolute darling strays under my building at work and we've been checking up on them the last few days but it seems their mum has left them, so now my family has taken them in. given i have a dog who is an attention whore it's looking like we'll foster them until we can give them to someone else (ideally a friend so i can see them), but in the meantime i have two/three week old kittens and god they're the cutest fucking things. we've named them benny and björn after abba, of course.

pictures, of course:

today we learned björn is actually a girl (the little tabby), but it's already stuck so she's keeping it, and benny is the ginger.

i've never really interacted with cats before, but i think i'm in love. i can just hear little mews throughout my day it brings me so much joy.

as for things i'm looking forward to: concerts! who is surprised? i (in a miracle) managed tickets to taylor swift and the week has come!! so i'm thrilled for that. i also have a tiny indie aussie artist the very next night so next weekend should be just as busy and enjoyable, i think.

(also if i can be slightly fan-person-y of you, i'm rather looking forward to when you start releasing your new wip, whenever that may be - no pressure and take all of the time you need but i am also excited!)

this was the loveliest of things to wake up to, a little check up. i appreciate it dearly and you can expect that i'm about to send you the same in your ask box. sending all of the love to you xx

[empyrean11]

With all the buffalo stuff, I missed this one... LINEUP!

Davis leading off again with all the lefties other than Varsh on the bench.

[frootertooter]

I LOVE NINJAGO FOR THIS.

The way every villain's themes are mainly composed of string instruments, while the ninja's themes are largely wind instruments?? The way it brings so much oomph in the later season's score??? Especially in Master of the Mountain where you hear the score swap between the Skull Sorcerer's and Cole's leitmotifs during the final battle????? Not to mention Cole's leitmotif being present in the lullaby flashback scenes MMMHMG-

Jay Vincent and Michael Kramer went ABSOLUTELY bonkers over each season's scores- The rainbow lego ninja show did not need to have such an incredible feature film level soundtrack, but they went for it and I love it so damn much

Edit because I have no clue how I forgot to mention it: ZANE'S LEITMOTIF. THE WAY THEY USE IT AT THE BEGINNING OF THE DEAD MAN'S SQUALL EPISODE. SO GOOD... IT'S LITERALLY THE ONLY REASON I REMEMBER THE EPISODE'S NAME

Additionally Ninjago s8 spoilers:

HARUMI'S THEME. The way when first introduced to her, she's all piano and wind instruments, but then during her reveal/betrayal it swaps to string????? Ok not so much leitmotifs anymore, but the Quiet One's s8 and Morro's s5 themes are both so good at storytelling GHGH-

leitmotifs never get old to me like holy shit dude there’s this melody that corresponds to this one guy and if you hear the melody it means the guy is there. holy shit. and sometimes it refers to ideas too not just guys. has anyone heard about this

[mickyschumacher]

𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐀𝐂 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐓. 𝟐  .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: they say you should learn something new every day. in oscar's case, it's a double-edged sword. today, he learns he is also really thankful for not reading the fine prints. or in which oscar's secret santa gift hits the both of you for the second time. 𝐏𝐓. 𝟏 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors dni), unprotected sex (protect yourselves!) shower sex, blowjob, asking to go raw, p in v, teasing, oral sex, mutual orgasms, cumming outside, still an (over)consumption of aphrodisiacs

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: oscar piastri x gf!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2k+

𝐀/𝐍: as usual, proofread-ish. for the people who wanted a part 2 and for the person who said they wouldn't be disappointed bc i was nervous about making one (🥹 ily, you're a real one)... hope you like it! ♡︎

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆  •°.  。  .°•  ⋆

"I think we're going to have to thank Daniel," you joked, finally regaining your words.

"Later," Oscar sucked in a sharp breath. "Like three hours later."

You furrowed your brows, looking up at Oscar, only for him to be looking down. Following his gaze, your eyes honed in on the object capturing both of your attention.

"Oh..." you pursed your lips.

God, were these chocolates living up to their name.

Oscar tucked your hair behind your ears, fingers dancing across your skin. "What did you dream about?"

You blinked blankly before mending your brows as the sudden question. "I–what? What do you mean?" You asked, peering up at him with confusion.

"Your dream earlier on. I didn't get to ask. What was it about?"

All of a sudden your throat felt like a desert; so so dry. There was something almost unsettling about the cheeky glint in those brown eyes watching you. You let out a small sigh, suppressing your eye roll. "Well, first, we were in the shower–"

"In the shower?" Oscar repeated with raised eyebrows and an amused smile.

Your hand stretched out to hit him lightly. "Yes, you idiot. The shower," you sighed yet again before continuing, "well, it was initially sweet. We were doing the usual, shampoo, soap, water fights, and what not. And then you, acting like some sort of horny monster, decided it would be fun to eat me out against the wall."

"And then?" Oscar queried quietly, hand gently gliding down the curve of your body.

You cleared your throat, trying to keep on track. "Um, then I returned the favour," you shrugged timidly, feeling goosebumps litter your skin, trailing after his touch.

Oscar grinned. "Returned the favour?" He repeated, losing himself to his own thoughts as he spoke. "You sucked my cock? How?"

You almost choked on your spit. "W-What? What do you mean 'how?'"

"How did you do it? Did you start from the tip like you usually do? Or did you start from the bottom, grazing your teeth all the way up?"

You sucked in a sharp breath. "I... I started from the tip. I know how you like it. Special attention to the slit and to the bottom. All down my throat. Till you could see the small little bulge in my throat. And then I swallowed every single drop."

Oscar swallowed his saliva. You met those puppy eyes, yet again surprised at the desperation swirling around, drowning him.

He watched you tilt your head almost innocently. "Why?" Swollen lips jutted out, face still flushed and riddled with sweat from the previous round. "Want it to come true?"

A groan fell from Oscar's lips, eyes shutting for a second. "God, yes."

Wordlessly, you observed him quickly remove himself from your grasp, moving his hands under your body, lifting you up into the air. You let out a squeal, waves of cold air hitting your warm body. "Osc!"

"I'm trying to hurry!" You heard him yell as you watched the carpet of your bedroom suddenly turn into the tiles of your bathroom. You felt Oscar place you gently down onto the shower floor, pulling the handle.

You let out a yelp at the intrusion of cold water across your skin. "Oscar, that's fucking freezing!" Ready to take a leap out of the bathroom.

You peeked an eye open at the boy who was simply smiling at you as the water pelted down on your bodies. "I guess I'll just have to warm you up in the first place."

Before you knew it, Oscar's lips were back on yours as though they had never disappeared. Your hands fell to his neck, while his wet hands encircled your waist, bringing you as close as he could. He kissed you with an indescribable sense of urgency, nipping away at your lips.

You gasped at the sheer force of the kiss, allowing him to take advantage of the open access, darting his tongue into your mouth. Your muffled moans filled his ears and long gone were the worries of the cold. Only warmth burned through the both of you.

The sloppy meeting of your lips, the occasional clang of your teeth, or the pure suction of need set you alight. Oscar groaned, a shiver running through his spine at the feel of your hand roaming his hair.

To be honest, it was difficult to see with the now slightly warm water coming down. But even then, Oscar could see it clear as day. The way your eyes sparkled looking up at him and the way your lips glided down his bare neck, trailing his chest before resting at his v-line, knees pressed on the floor... fuck, he was dreaming.

Out of your peripheral, you could see Oscar's muscles tense as you gathered the saliva in your mouth, spitting the lube down onto his cock. The low exhale from his lips made you smile momentarily.

"I'm gonna make you feel so so good, okay?"

Before he could even respond, your hot breath washed over his cock, making him twitch. Oscar's head fell back on the shower wall, feeling your hot tongue lick the tip of his dick, paying special attention to his slit. "Oh shit," he moaned, entirely lost.

His arms travelled to your wet hair, wrapping the strands tightly around the surface of his hands, guiding your head with the little control he could muster. Oscar's teeth sunk into his lip upon the twirl of your tongue and the light graze of your own teeth against his tip. "F-Fuck," he croaked, "you're so good, baby."

You hummed in response, savouring the salty taste of his precum before opening your throat a little more to take his cock fully. You feel him poorly guide his cock into the tighter tunnel, the action bombarded with a string of moans from his mouth.

Your thighs clenched at the sounds, all your arousal mixed with the falling warm droplets. You could tell he was close by the way his hips began to move as though he was in a chase. You could only help further by sucking him even harder.

Oscar blinked away the water, eyes falling down to your throat, knees almost buckling at the sight of the same little bulge in your throat. Furthermore, the sinking of your nails in his thighs.... fuck... it was another sort of cruelty waiting to be released. Closing his eyes, he cursed with a senseless yet ravenous moan, feeling the coil in his stomach began to unravel.

Suddenly Oscar's eyes shot open. His hips stopped moving. You peered up with raised brows, wondering why on earth he was edging himself as he pulled you up to meet you face-to-face.

"That is not how the dream went," you lightly chided, hitting his chest lightly.

Oscar braved a small smile, chest heaving with a crazed adrenaline as he caught your arm. His free hand brushed your wet face. "I love your dream, I really do," he said with an emphasised look down below. "But I need to be in you again."

You crumbled at the last word. The crack of his voice was laced with whatever plant or fruit you had both over consumed. He was so so needy. The pleading eyes, his aching cock begging for a release, his hands eagerly travelling across your body.

"What about the condom?" Your whisper was just heard over the water.

Oscar sucked in a sharp breath, mouth feeling dry all of a sudden. "I... can we go raw?"

You pursed your lips. Raw... you had thought of the idea more times than you'd like to admit. Obviously, a baby with Oscar wasn't something you were considering at the moment. You had discussed this, hence the condoms. And sure there was birth control, but the list of side effects was never-ending. Plus, you were never good with remembering pills anyways.

You weren't quite sure whether it was the aphrodisiacs or you, probably a mix of both. But you couldn't quite seem to get the idea of really feeling his cock for the first time out of your head.

This whole thing was already reckless and crazy as it was. What was a little more?

"Obviously, if you don't want to–" Oscar started, fumbling over his words urgently.

"Yes."

"–it's up to you because I respect your choice–"

"Osc, yes."

"Hmm?" Oscar blinked, finally registering what you were saying. His brown eyes widened before a smile washed onto his face. "Yeah? I mean I didn't really imagine it happening in the shower but... I was thinking something a bit more romantic."

You chuckled softly. "Well, I never thought we'd be drugged up on chocolates from your friend and yet, here we are..."

Oscar grinned, swiftly bringing his lips to yours. Your hands flung to his face, bringing him closer to you as his hands travelled down the sides of your body, every curve and crevice committed to memory.

His grin deepened further at the sound of your breath hitching. His fingers inched closer to your hips, aligning your body to him. He let out a slow exhale, cock painfully waiting to feel you.

Briefly, Oscar's eyes flickered back to your face. Thumb nudging you to look at him. "If anything feels wrong and I mean anything–"

"I'll tell you. Promise," you smiled softly, giving him a long kiss.

Oscar smiled in return, holding your gaze with the intention to capture this moment entirely as he slowly rubbed the tip of his cock against your engorged pussy. He could hear your soft whimpers through the droplets of water. A rippling tremble rumbled through his body while he pushed his cock into you, letting your wet arousal soak him entirely.

Oscar had never been so happy to capture your reaction. The inevitable parting of your lips, the silent gasp, the crease between your brows, the tightening of your walls against his cock... fuck, it drove him crazy.

"You okay, baby?" He asked with a shallow breath. The nod of your head green-lit him to fully bury his cock into your pussy, allowing you to feel every full inch of him, raw.

A small burn travelled through you. Oscar was stretching you out like never before. You felt so full. Fuck.

"Osc, please move.'

The plead from your swollen lips was so desperate. Like you were about to fall apart.

"Oh my God," Oscar groaned against your wet skin, fingers tightening around your hips as your words replayed in his head. His hips began to snap into you, rutting his aching cock into your warm walls. Fuck, you were gripping his cock so tight... he could've sworn he'd cry if he wasn't so fixated on the way you felt.

His hooded brown eyes couldn't help but watch his cock come in and out of your throbbing pussy, shit, you were creaming all around him. He could feel the coldness of the shower wall touch his back as he brought you even closer, drilling his cock further into you. His lips moved towards your nipple, tongue twirling around in circles as your pants filled the moist air.

"Oh fuck!" you cried, hands reaching out to grab his shoulders–anything.

You could've sworn the sounds of your skin slapping against his was echoing throughout your house. Even over the water, it rebounded of the walls, melding in with your lewd moans and the obscene squelch of your pussy craving more and more of Oscar's cock. You had never felt anything quite it.

You could feel Oscar's hand move from your hips, inching down your v-line to meet your clit. A shudder ripped through your body as he thumbed the sensitive nerves in slow circles.

"Come on, baby," Oscar encouraged, lips sloppily meeting yours. His moans were getting beyond desperate, hips beginning to pick up their pace. "Show me how good you feel, hmm? Cum for me."

Your mouth fell open as a crash of white began to take over your eyes. The water began to blur with the waves of your orgasm hitting you one after another. Your body was shaking in his hands, your own hips bucking to ride out the high for as long as you could.

Your pussy was so fucking tight, gripping him like a vice. Oscar let out a throat groan as he fought to open his eyes. He rushed to take his cock out of your folds, as much as it pained him. "Fuck, f-fuck, open your mouth, baby," he urged, own hand sliding up and down his cock.

Oscar moaned at the sight of you on your knees, pretty lips and tongue all open for him. His hips stuttered against his hand as ropes of his hot cum spilled onto your tongue. "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck! Yes, fuck, take it, baby. Take my cum!"

A sigh flew out of his mouth as he slowed down and the waves of his climax came to an end. Oscar softly groaned at the sight of you, bending down to kiss you. The salty taste of his cum mixed with your arousal... fuck, he loved it.

Gently, he brought you up to meet his eyes once again. Your chests both heaved in an attempt to regain your breath.

You were thankful Oscar was holding you against him: you're legs felt like jelly.

"Can you walk tomorrow?" Oscar teased, pushing your wet hair behind your ears.

You rolled your eyes, hitting his chest lightly. "You're an asshole."

Oscar chuckled softly, pressing a small kiss to the side of your head. He sighed once again, hands rubbing your back soothingly as the silence was filled with the running water. "I love you," he whispered against your skin, "Thank you for trusting me with this."

You smiled, knowing exactly what he was talking about. "I loved every second of it, baby. And for the record, it was very romantic."

"And hot?" Oscar raised a brow, a small grin playing on his face.

You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes again. "Are you going to thank Daniel?"

Oscar pursed his lips at your words. "Absolutely not."

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[itsscottiesstark]

@idliketobeatree okay how dare you.

It just occurred to me that if they do start shooting in January, they'll be shooting all through the awards season. Meaning that if they attend any ceremonies there's a good chance we'll get a blond tuxedoed up Michael and a red haired celestial suited up David and I'm not ready for it.

[cinnamoodles]

what are ur favorite anthony bridgerton five

hi! i'm assuming this says fics, and i am SO HONOURED that you trust me to recommend my favourite fics to you!

first up… the amazing and fantastic @fayes-fics, one of THE MOST skilled writers alive. she never misses!

some of my personal favs from her are:

➥ a beneficial arrangement [ ⭐️ ]

a marriage pact with a viscount. what could possibly go wrong?

➥ rescue and ruin

anthony rescues something for you… and it will likely lead to your ruin.

➥ the friends+ series

modern AU. series of fics that feature anthony & journalist!reader’s burgeoning relationship.

those are just a few of my favorites, but READ HER ENTIRE MASTERLIST! you will not regret it, promise.

secondly, a series of fics by the wonderfully talented @rubysunnday, and once again, be sure to read all of her masterlist!

➥ take my hand

as much as y/n appreciates anthony’s matchmaking efforts, it’s hard to accept them when he’s the only man she wants. luckily for her, a fall in the lake allows her to voice her feelings in more ways than one

➥ a long, long time

y/n has waited a long, long time for anthony bridgerton to finally decide to get married. but by the time he finally decides to find a wife, y/n has run out of time and anthony is suddenly faced with losing her to someone else.

➥ it’s a bad idea, me and you [ ⭐️ ]

y/n was ready to give her entire heart to anthony bridgerton. only for him to shove her aside in favour for sienna rosso. but, now, sienna is gone and despite what y/n keeps telling herself - anthony truly does own her heart.

now, for the queen of the modern!anthony au, @eleanor-bradstreet! some of my favorites from her are…

➥ gala

you attend a charity gala with your boss who really is too much trouble in a tux.

➥ locked out

when you find yourselves locked out of your house in the middle of the night, anthony has some ideas for how you can kill time.

➥ take me instead [ ⭐️ ]

you and anthony find yourselves in the middle of a bank robbery on an ill-fated day.

next we have @colettebronte, BRIDGERTON SMUT AUNTIE HERSELF WOOO!

(warning, these fics are VERY mature, and include BDSM and other possibly triggering material).

➥ rise and breathe

newly arrived back in london after a long journey across the mediterranean sea, you encounter a pathetically drunk viscount bridgerton the night he is rejected by sienna rosso. after a sobering morning on all counts, you sense that he is indeed lost and in need of a new purpose and direction. through submission and service, he may just find it.

➥ what (who) are you doing on new year’s eve?

a mysterious benefactor invites you to ring in the New Year with them.

➥ kinktober day ten: blindfolded

your tenth evening with your client. day ten for kinktober. I’m going with two prompts tonight, blindfolded and massage.

finally, we have some individual fics that stole my heart.

➥ diamonds and pearls by @multiharlot

diamonds and pearls do not make up for the lack of love in your marriage.

➥ enamoured by @dreamwritesimagines

everything you heard about matters of heart and desire told you the same thing; love could lead to heartbreak at best and disastrous results at worst. yet, you were convinced that everyone was wrong. they had to be, because love was supposed to make everyone happier, no confusion or pain in sight. regardless of how naive it sounded, you were sure that you were ready to fall in love and lose yourself in the infamous bliss. that assumption right there was a terrible mistake, though. you were nowhere near ready.

➥ right person, all the wrong times by @wwinterwitch

you and anthony have been in love with one another from the moment you met, but it seems as though nothing will ever happen between you. after you catch the attention of another gentleman, he realizes perhaps it's time to finally do something about his feelings.

➥ right in front of me by @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69

the only way he could rationally find a suitable wife was by removing love from the equation all together. courtship was game of jumping through hoops he really did not want to play, and he was a viscount. surely there would be a father with a more than suitable daughter he could simply ask for your hand and get it. or the one where your arranged marriage with anthony bridgerton isn’t a loving marriage… until it is.

➥ melt away by @healmydesires

the night you give your love and body to your husband.

➥ sham, pride, and illicit affairs by @peeterparkr

or, the story of how you rejected his proposal because you once loved him.

➥ enchanted by @imthebadguyyy

you and anthony don’t need words to converse.

➥ better man by @midnightfictionlibrary

anthony must rectify his rakish ways and wed, but he has a lot to think over if he doesn’t want to lose his dearest friend forever. 

➥ no longer in denial by @iwritefandomimagines

anthony has made no secret of not wanting to marry, despite it being more than clear that he is head over heels in love with you, his “best friend”. benedict decides he is fed up of anthony’s denial, and takes matters into his own hands — by inciting jealousy from his older brother.

➥ the language of flowers by @cinnamoodles (shameless self plug)

you and anthony have been friends for as long as you can remember, but what happens when his world turns upside down? will he open his heart and let the woman silently pining for him in?

AHH ok that was it, and these are the bridgerton fics i love with all of my soul. thank you so much for your ask, it was so nice to see all these wonderful fics again.

xo, lottie !

[vrystalius]

Gyomei’s favourite dish.

His training is taking a great toll on both his mind and body. You took it upon yourself to make sure he’s eating regularly.

Flufftober prompt: Favourite food

Pairing: Gyomei x wife!reader

The smell of simmering rice inside your favourite pot and stir-fried vegetables filled the empty residence of the some hashira. You full heartedly supported the decision to plan a hashira-training instance in order to prepare the other slayers for the impending war against the demon king, but you are not approving the amount of meals Gyomei is skipping and nights he is skipping in order to either train his slayers or to train on his own. As his wife, you promised to each other to take care of the other. Your husband does that plenty by cooking meals, preparing baths or even cleaning the whole house. He’s incredibly sweet and so caring, so how can you not return the favour for once?

You’re preparing Gyomei’s favourite dish, Takikomi-Gohan. But since he’s still a devoted monk, you left the meat part out and instead used some fish your husband caught just this morning. Now, all you had to do is wait on your husband to return from his training and taste your with love (and with a hint of both boredom and loneliness) prepared dish.

You slowly got tired from waiting on him but were determined to stay awake, just to see the happy expression spread over his face once he realised you actually made his favourite dish. Finally, around midnight, your front door opened with your husband quietly treading through the hallways. Despite his blindness, he sensed your presence in the kitchen.

“Love. I believed you were in bed at this hour.”

Oh gods, his face looks sunken in and those black patches beneath his eyes reach all the way into the abyss, his clothes had a little dirt on them and the muscles on his forearm still looked incredibly tense, with thick veins protruding. Gyomei cocked his head slightly and approached you. You shoved the bowl of Takikomi-Gohan towards him.

“I cooked you a little something, I thought you’d might like to eat after training.”

You took his large palm into yours and handed him some chopsticks as a way to encourage him to take a bite. A soft smile spread across his face. Your husband sat down beside you and pulled the dish closer to himself before turning to you.

“Have you eaten today?”

His worrying made you smile a little. You patted his bicep to give him some physical reassurance.

“Yes, don’t worry. Please, go ahead.”

His smile grew and began eating the dish you so lovingly prepared for him. Tears began streaming down his face once he recognised what you’ve made for him. Gyomei gently placed a hand on your thigh, his thumb slowly running up and down.

“You remembered my favourite. Thank you.”

Your husband leaned in and planted a soft kiss on your cheek. You giggled softly and his affection and leaned your head against his bicep, your hand briefly brushing over his arm before finding rest on top of his large hand that was still resting on your thighs.

“Will you be joining me in bed soon? I’m tired.”

Hearing you say this made more tears flow down his cheeks. A hint of a smile spread on his face.

“If you are patient enough to wait on me to finish this meal, I can show you my second favourite dish.”

Knowing exactly what he meant by his smile, your whole face flushed and you gently slapped his arm. You’re not quite used to your husband flirting with you out of nowhere. Perhaps it’s the sleep depravation speaking for Gyomei.

🎃

Now, I really like Gyomei, but I’m always incredibly nervous whenever I write for him. I’m intimidated by both his blindness and his character XD also, I’m wondering if anyone ever reads my little author notes. I’m always just talking about silky unrelated stuff anyway, soo…

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves!

🎃 Oktober event masterlist 🎃

[samwinchesterism]

in re: “cas knows dean better than sam”

“cas sees dean as a whole person and sam just sees dean’s façade as his big brother slash parent” but like how and where. outside of your fanfiction. season and episode. scene and line. if it’s so obvious and apparent you should have at least 3-5 concrete examples right? “sam doesn’t know dean carried him out of the burning house” yeah but did cas? outside of a footnote in the angelic manila folder they gave him between seasons 3 and 4 so he could better manipulate him and sam into doing heaven’s bidding? like if you’re going to say “cas knows dean better than sam” than you need to show how cas succeeds where you perceive sam to be failing at the very least. but even your perceptions of how sam doesn’t measure up are so warped, blinkered, and moronic that it wouldn’t even be worth much if you could provide the textual evidence, but at least you’d have a semblance of a point. like say anything without going “as an eldest daughter…” “well my relationship with my sibling isn’t…” please say anything without fucking projecting your own self-pitying crybaby bullshit onto your little woobie dean and using the actual canon text of the show. I’m literally begging you.

like the thing of it all is and always has been that you’re so hell-bent on twisting the sam and dean relationship to fit into this narrow and almost entirely inaccurate mold which is the basis upon which you build the entire Destiel Mythos that you literally lose all sense of media literacy. you don’t even miss the forest for the trees, you miss the trees for like, the pretend invisible things you’re seeing in between the trees, the forest is a whole long way away from your current level of perception. because the Destiel Mythos is based entirely on the fact that dean is Not Seen and Not Appreciated and Not Loved and Cannot Be Himself until cas comes along, and that Family (read: sam) Is Only A Burden on Him That He Must Be Freed From In Order to Flourish, so you keep trying to warp the sam relationship into something that is only one dimension of it – and keep ignoring the ways in which dean is seen, loved and understood within it, because you need to keep lying to yourselves that there is a narrative need to emancipate dean from something that he has never wanted emancipation from because it is ultimately a net good for dean in the particular circumstances of their lives. it’s also profoundly unhealthy, codependent, evil and toxic etc. (a lot more dean’s fault than sam’s but I will nawt be getting into all that right now) but that doesn’t change the fact that sam and dean both know and understand and feel deeply that they are each other’s person – that they know the best and love the most in the world. but that – which IS true canon fact – is incompatible with the Destiel Mythos so it must be ignored and all good sense must be thrown out the window in order to do it.

anyway i digress there are two main categories of Bad Thinking that i will be addressing below

childhood/ “parent/child” / blah blah blah

every single thing people are saying in favour of the deeply stupid thesis in the title of this post is proof positive of the very silly form of ‘analysis’ I just described. a few things:

“wah sam didn’t know that dean carried him out of the burning house :( this means that dean withholds things from sam to protect him because he is a PARENT and sam can only know things about him in the context of him being a PARENT to him” – what the fuck are you on about genuinely. first of all reducing the sam/dean relationship exclusively to parent/child is in itself foolishness for so many reasons that I don’t have time for right now. but also, it’s clear that this is just something that happened when sam was a baby that just never came up. in the scene (1.09) where this is brought up, dean is mildly surprised that he or john never mentioned that detail and then states that sam knows the rest of the story (i.e. the actual traumatic stuff) just as well as dean does – which is true, demonstrably whenever they talk about it.

obviously there are some things that happened to dean in their childhood that sam doesn’t know about (or didn’t know about, until told in whatever episode they come up in). equally, there are things dean doesn’t know about sam’s childhood, e.g. the fact that he was so lonely he needed a zanna (11.08). or how dean didn’t remember that sam was friends with barry cook until he mentions it when they go back to their old school (4.13). or about the nature of sam’s relationship with amy pond (7.03). these don’t mean that ‘sam withheld these things to protect dean out of parental love’ lol, it’s just that there are details and events in each of their lives that the other happens to not have been told about.

similarly “sam didn’t even know dean wanted to be a firefighter L” girl did dean know sam wanted to be a lawyer? in 1.01 he’s pretty surprised that sam has a law school interview. the point here isn’t “neither sam nor dean know each other well,” these are minutiae that aren’t relevant to how well you know someone as a whole, and very poorly demonstrate the bad and inaccurate point that dean withholds things from sam the way a parent does a child (on a constant or regular basis). obviously the way they were raised, sam was deemed too young to know about certain things until he got older and dean had to keep that secret, but as shown in 3.08 flashbacks, most if not all of this is eventually revealed throughout their childhood when sam is still fairly young.

or possibly the dumbest one is that “wah sam doesn’t even know that dean reads books L” whenever that was he was also obviously joking because in more serious moments (e.g. 8.14) he admits that dean is smart/a better researcher than he is, literally remembers dean reading to him as a kid (8.21) so like. clam down  

one of the extra annoying variants of this type of ‘proof’ covers things that are very clearly novel pieces of information about dean that dean, sam, and the audience are learning about dean in real time. like if you’re actually watching the show to comprehend it as it was intended to be comprehended, instead of funnelling everything through the Destiel Machine until it’s unrecognizable slop that fits neatly into your pre-ordained molds that Make Destiel Necessary In the Narrative (when it actually isn’t, at all) it’s abundantly clear. the top two worst offenders:

“sam didn’t even know that dean is good with kids :( he doesn’t even realize that dean raised him :(” first of all you people need to understand that parentification does not literally create a parent-child dynamic between siblings but I digress – this doesn’t make any sense bro. in 1.03 dean admits he doesn’t know any kids as an adult. dean being good with his own kid brother when they were both kids is to any reasonable person not necessarily linked with him being good with other random kids when he’s an adult. in 1.03 it’s clear that dean himself is a bit surprised that he’s able to connect w/ lucas so well because he’s clearly not dealt with a lot of kids since sam grew up. the whole point of this is that dean, sam, and the audience are all sort of seeing a new side of dean. who again is just 26. after this very early episode, there’s no question from sam that dean is able to connect w kids. sam being a bit surprised by this also has absolutely zero connection with him not understanding or realizing that dean looked out for him when they were both kids – sam is standing there at 22 years of age talking about adult dean and children – of fucking course he doesn’t mean himself are you stupid.

from the very first season, sam is very clearly aware of everything dean ~did for him~ when they were kids, see e.g. 1.21: “Dean...ah...I wanna thank you. […] For everything. You've always had my back you know? Even when I couldn't count on anyone I could always count on you. And I don't know, I just wanted to let you know, just in case.”

and 1.06: DEAN: Well, I’m a freak, too. I’m right there with ya, all the way. (SAM laughs.) SAM: Yeah, I know you are.

and then possibly even more stupidly, the one where it’s like “wah sam doesn’t even know dean can cook :( he doesn’t even know that DEAN was the one making him food as a babe in arms :(” – when sam is surprised that dean made something fairly gourmet and from scratch literally the first time they have ever had a permanent living space with a functional kitchen. in this VERY scene (8.14), dean himself points out that they haven’t had a kitchen before and when sam remarks on the irregularity of him doing serious cooking, he says “I’m nesting”, clearly showing that this is a novel development because they now have a kitchen, and that it’s irregular relative to past behaviour – both of them acknowledge this. because real proper in-depth cooking and making box mac and cheese for sam until he was like 11 and old enough to be left alone are two different things, which sam understands because he’s smart, unlike whoever chooses to make this point. dean never showed significant signs of liking to cook before this, which is what the exchange is about, but he did have to prepare food for them both when sam was too young – of course sam knows he had to, there are childhood memories referred to (e.g. 14.11) where sam is mentioned to literally help dean do the cooking as kids lol (and yes, genius, sam says ‘I didn’t know you knew what a kitchen was’ or something to that effect, but if you think he’s being 100% literal there I have an oceanfront property in Kansas to sell you)

again, obviously there are pieces that sam doesn’t know about dean, e.g. when he’s talking about his response to mary dying in 1.03. but again, Sam is 22, dean is 26, the last time they were in regular contact was when sam was 18-20, these are things that happen when people grow up, they’re able to reflect and share on childhood experiences if they’re close with their siblings as adults. it’s clearly not something that 26 y/o dean wanted to hide from 22 y/o sam. yes sam didn’t know everything about how dean felt when they were young, but that’s equally true in the other direction, and it’s such an irrelevant point in this discussion when, crucially, sam does learn these things about dean mostly fairly early on in the series (i.e. when they’re really not that deep into adulthood yet). cas was also not magically blessed w/ knowledge about dean, he also had to learn whatever it is that he knows, but somehow sam has to know everything about dean from age 7 or it doesn’t count when it’s sam lol.

“sam doesn’t know the One True Dean / doesn’t see through his facades”

the next branch of defending this flawed thesis is invariably that sam has little idea of the fronts and facades that dean puts up and is content to just believe them, whereas cas digs deep and sees the One True Dean that stupid sam always misses. there is nothing in the text that demonstrates this is true. multiple times, we see sam being very knowing of the fact that dean puts up fronts and facades. sam is also knowledgeable of the way dean perceives himself, and – demonstrated in multiple episodes before such sam lines were very poorly recycled and regurgitated into cas’s dialogue in 15.18, but keep acting like that was the first time anyone ever showed that they knew the One True Dean.

Obviously there are times where sam teases dean when he’s being more touchy-feely than usual, but 9.99 times out of 10 (as a conservative estimate in case there's something i'm forgetting otherwise i would say every time) that’s very clearly coming from a place of knowing the real dean vs. the façade he puts up because that’s the whole joke. and it’s allowed to be a joke because they’re siblings and that’s what siblings do lol. esp since sam and dean have touchy feely moments at the end of like every episode.

examples of all of the above off the top of my head (there are more than these, but these are the ones I can think of):

2.02 (about John’s death)

Sam: “I mean this ‘strong silent’ thing of yours, it's crap. […] I'm over it. This isn't just anyone we're talking about, this is Dad. I know how you felt about the man.”

Dean: “You know what, back off, all right? Just because I'm not caring and sharing like you want me to.”

Sam: “No, no, no, that's not what this is about, Dean. I don't care how you deal with this. But you have to deal with it, man. Listen, I'm your brother, all right? I just want to make sure you're okay.”

2.03 (Sam to Dean, also about John’s death): “You know, you slap on this big fake smile but I can see right through it. Because I know how you feel, Dean. Dad's dead. And he left a hole, and it hurts so bad you can't take it, but you can't just fill up that hole with whoever you want to. It's an insult to his memory.”

Note that Dean essentially admits that Sam is right in these two instances in 2.04 bc I know yall have stupid shit to say about john too that has nothing to do with how anyone actually felt about him in canon

3.07 (about Dean’s demon deal – also proven true in later episodes)

SAM: Dude, drop the attitude, Dean. Quit turning everything into a punch line. And you know something else? Stop trying to act like you're not afraid.

DEAN: I'm not!

SAM: You're lying. And you may as well drop it 'cause I can see right through you.

DEAN: You got no idea what you're talking about.

SAM: Yeah, I do. You're scared, Dean. You're scared because your year is running out, and you're still going to Hell, and you're freaked.

DEAN: And how do you know that?

SAM: Because I know you! […] Yeah, I've been following you around my entire life! I mean, I've been looking up to you since I was four, Dean. Studying you, trying to be just like my big brother. So yeah, I know you. Better than anyone else in the entire world. And this is exactly how you act when you're terrified. And, I mean, I can't blame you. It's just […] I wish you would drop the show and be my brother again. 'Cause... (can't find words; tears in his eyes) just 'cause.

5.18 [Sam figures out what Dean is doing re: his plan to let Michael possess him, tracks him down, and eventually is the catalyst for Dean ‘making the right call’, which he predicts] – e.g.:

SAM: No, you won’t. When push shoves, you’ll make the right call

DEAN: You know, if tables were turned…I’d let you rot in here. Hell, I have let you rot in here.

SAM: Yeah, well…I guess I’m not that smart.

DEAN: I���I don’t get it. Sam, why are you doing this?

SAM: Because… you’re still my big brother.

8.14 (basically the o.g. version of whatever went on in 15.18 + sam intrinsically understanding the trials are a death wish for dean): “I'm closing the gates. It's a suicide mission for you. I want to slam hell shut, too, okay? But I want to survive it. I want to live, and so should you. You have friends up here, family. I mean, hell, you even got your own room now. You were right, okay? I see light at the end of this tunnel. And I'm sorry you don't – I am. But it's there. And if you come with me, I can take you to it. […] I AM smart, and so are you. You're not a grunt, Dean. You're a genius – when it comes to lore, to – you're the best damn hunter I have ever seen – better than me, better than dad. I believe in you, Dean. So, please – please believe in me, too.”

10.22 (understanding how much dean has ~done for him~)

SAM: I'm saving my brother.

CASTIEL: You told Dean—

SAM: —I know what I told Dean. Cas, look. I've been the one out there, messed up and scared. And alone. And Dean—

CASTIEL: He did whatever he could to save you.

SAM: Yes. I mean, it's become his thing. I owe him this. I owe him everything.

10.23 (basically the o.g. version of whatever went on in 15.18, x2 – from Sam to Dean): “You were also willing to summon death to make sure you could never do any more harm. You summoned me because you knew I would do anything to protect you. That's not evil, Dean. That's not an evil man. That is a good man crying to be heard, searching for... some other way. […] You will never, ever hear me say that you -- the real you -- is anything but good.”

11.13 (Sam understanding exactly how Dean feels about Amara being his ‘deepest desire’, and confirming that it doesn’t make him a bad person)

Dean: Why? Because if she is that means that I’m…

Sam: Means you’re what? Complicit? Weak? Evil?

Dean: For starters, yeah.

Sam: Dean. Do you honestly think you ever had a choice in the matter? She’s the sister of God, and for some reason she picked you and that sucks, but if you think I’m gonna blame you or judge you…I’m not.

Dean: You know that I want her ass dead.

Sam: Yes. Of course. And I know you’ve also probably beaten yourself up a hundred times over it, but where has that gotten us? (Long silence) Just how bad is it?

13.02 (Sam perfectly explaining Dean’s psyche to Jack)

JACK: Is that why Dean hates me?

SAM: Dean doesn’t hate you. It… Look, sometimes the wires in Dean’s head get crossed and—and he gets frustrated, and then he mixes frustration with anger, and—and fear.

JACK: Why would he be afraid?

SAM: Because Dean feels like it’s his job to protect everyone. And right now, we need to protect you. But we may also need to protect people from you.

14.03 [Sam assesses Dean’s psychological/emotional response to the Michael possession; end of episode, Dean confirms that Sam’s assessment was fully accurate]

14.10 [Sam is the only one able to snap Dean out of his weird Michael mind loop by using their code word]

14.11 [Sam figuring out that something is troubling Dean just based on the fact that Dean hugs him]

15.17 (self explanatory at this point)

DEAN: Chuck has to die. He has to! Otherwise he'll keep us tap dancing forever, and I can't live like that, man! I can't live like that! I won't!

SAM: I know you feel like that right now, okay. I know you do. But you gotta trust me. My entire life, you've protected me— from Dad, from Lucifer, from everything. I didn't always like it, you know, but... it's the one thing in the whole world that I could always count on. It's the only thing I've ever known that was true. So please... put the gun away. Just put it away, and we'll figure it out, Dean, we'll find another way, you and me. We always do.

like maybe there are some cas moments w dean along these lines too. i don't know, i don't remember what the guy says or does anymore it's been too many years and he is not memorable. but the point is where and in what capacity and based on what metric other than the amount of bad fanfic you've read does cas exceed sam in these respects.

so basically just. genuinely, what are you people literally ever talking about. go watch the show instead of saying stupid wrong stuff about sam on the hellsites all day. or watch another show (please for the love of god watch any other show this one is absolutely lost on you and it’s such a stupid one too i'm embarrassed for you)

[assortedseaglass]

The way that you imbue smut with such feeling is always utterly extraordinary to me.

There is so much history in the characters, in Sylvi, in Aemond, in the reader, that you convey in so few words...please tell me how you do it (but actully don't because the spell of your writing will be broken and i want to stay in it's magic forever)

And then, amongst all this feeling and emotion and backstory BAM out of nowhere shit like this happens

AND THIS BEING THE SUMMARY!?

Woof.

Smut has never smutted harder. You are truly a sex extraordinaire. Brava. Bellissima. Encore. Etcetera etcetera.

ilībio

Summary: Aemond finds comfort in your cunt. Paring: Aemond Targaryen x female!reader Word Count: 2.6+ Warnings: reader AFAB, dubcon elements?, oral (m receiving), vaginal fingering, rough sex as a coping mechanism, p in v unprotected, a hint of possessive Aemond as a treat Author’s Note: Thank you my beloved beta reader @sylasthegrim 💜 This story was partly inspired by the brilliance of @peachysunrize (my muse 💜) and @adragonprinceswhore and their wonderful pieces they shared on this hellsite, but it was also inspired by this bitch ass anon. This man is beautiful and I would do anything to be a hole at his disposal. Enjoy! Valyrian translations: ilībio is whore, Iksā ñuhon is you are mine 😈

The instructions from the madame were clear: you were not to speak to the prince and you most certainly were not to look him in the eye. 

It was hard to follow her explicit instructions, as he was as beautiful as he was captivating. You recalled the night when you first saw Prince Aemond. He was poised at the entrance, pulling back his hood to reveal the silver spill of his hair that showed gold in the amber light basking the brothel, his brow furrowed as he looked over the room before taking a step. He was tall and lithe with a grace that cut through the crowd, not sparing a glance at the patrons or whores that parted to allow him through. 

You remembered hearing the stories of the old gods of Old Valyria and thought that he was truly the embodiment from those legends, that he glowed from the ichor knitted into his veins. 

He paused to look at you, and you felt your heart begin to gnaw at your ribs, your pulse erratic as you burned under his one-eyed scrutiny. Your head was in a fog, unable to understand his question. “Your grace,” you chose to say with a curtsy that was clumsy and unpractised. 

He did not care for the attempt or for your formality, but instead repeated his question. “Where is she?” 

You escorted him to Sylvi as requested, and the madame was quick to capitalize on her honored guest, excusing you at once. You continued to watch him from the shadows, entranced, lost in the daydream of being whisked away with the favoritism of a Targaryen prince. 

When he finally left, she caught your gaze that followed him. Her law was laid, he was hers alone, and your envy was hot and thick in your blood, but you were nothing but another whore to serve, awaiting at her beck and call. 

It was her constant threat of being cast out to Flea Bottom that kept you obedient. She wished you to be a decorative piece, dressed in sheer gowns chosen to complement your figure, and tasked to carry a carafe that would keep the cups filled. You did what you were told; you moved throughout, your fingers curled around the neck and the other hand supporting the bottom, careful not to spill a drop. 

Your second run in with Prince Aemond was nearly your undoing. 

You did not even see him, as your trained demure gaze left you counting your footsteps, and despite how lean the prince looked, he felt solid enough when you stumbled into him. Your hands cramped to hold the bottle upright, your senses flooded with the scent of the leather he had been wearing earlier, mixed with the sheen of perspiration and the bathing oils you surely would never afford.

You were rooted to the cobblestone with the realization that he was bare. 

He seemed to tower over you, and the dragonfire that burned bright showed in the lavender of his eye, glittering in the sapphire of the other. You were mortified and he frowned in return, his silver brow furrowed as he looked you over.

You stared back at him, your embarrassment fading, and perhaps it was your unabashed awe that caught his attention–but whatever it was, he would not tell you.

Prince Aemond reached out to grip your jaw, dimpling into your cheeks. You could feel the warmth from his fingertip trickle down your spine and pool into your core; your thighs clenched for relief, your heart screaming to be consumed.

He tilted his head, his eye boring through as if he could see what you desired, though it was painted plainly on your face. He smirked. “One whore is as good as another,” he spoke out loud, and you felt your heart expanding, pumping your blood and encouraging your steps to follow after him. 

The prince glided to a stop in front of an enclave that was draped in silk and lace. The whore and her patrons inside recognized him at once, scattering like rats into the shadows and leaving you alone with the dragon prince. 

Your hands were still shaking as you set the carafe on top of a table, wiping your palms on your skirts. You turned to face the prince and saw his posture was proud, his muscles tensing as his hands balled into fists at his sides; his eye was ever-watchful of you. 

Your lips parted with a soft exhale to soothe your nerves, to settle the pounding in your chest. You took a slow step towards him, your fingers wishing to reach and touch the marble he had been crafted from, but instead you untied the dress that was wrapped around your waist. The fabric pooled at your feet and you were just as bare, your blood seering to the surface when you saw his cock twitch, a lust that began to cloud his eye. 

It was exhilarating to entice a god. 

Your eyes widened with your own admiration as you took him in, a trepidation that fluttered throughout when he did not reach for you right away. Another exhale and you moved closer to kneel before him, your head tilting up to look at him. 

His jaw ticked, a curiosity flickering, waiting for your next move. 

You swallowed your hesitation and your eyes washed over him with reverence, falling to the lines that cut into his slim hips and trailing in-between. Your touch was gentle to wrap your fingers around his hardening cock, moving it aside to press a wet kiss on the curve of the base. You rested back on your heels and looked up again, licking your lips. 

The prince had you rooted with his heady gaze, a rose dusting to his features. His hand touched the top of your head, returning your attention back to how hot and heavy he now was against the palm of your hand. 

It thrilled you. Your tongue flattened to follow along the side, tracing every ridge and vein of his impressive length. The tip was flushed and you pressed another kiss, licking away the briny taste from your lips before wrapping them around to savor the dragon thrumming in your hand. 

He gave a low groan, tensing with how your mouth moved to engulf him. His hand curled into the back of your scalp with a hold that made your skin prickle; your hand grabbed his hip to anchor your endeavor, moving up and down until he was slick from your spit, your desperation to try and swallow every inch of him. 

You gagged, pulling back to lick your other hand and wrap it around what could not fit, matching your pace. He now held onto you with both of his hands, his fingers knotting into your hair with a hold that brought tears to your eyes, but you would not stop–the taste of royalty igniting in your blood vessels. You were spurred on with the sounds that spilled from his lips, and he bucked into your mouth, bruising your throat. 

Only then did you let go, gasping for air. “Forgive me–”

He did not let you finish. He reached to wrap his hand around your upper arm and he pulled you to stand. “Get on the bed.” His voice was low and lethal, velvet that wrapped around to control you. 

You scrambled on top with a visceral shiver from that anticipation already curling at the base of your spine. You looked up at Prince Aemond and it beckoned him closer with a heavy sway between his slender thighs. “My prince, you will not fit,” you realized, “I must–I need to prepare myself…” 

He loomed over you, balancing one arm on the edge of the mattress while the other reached to stop your hand. “Allow me,” he murmured, bringing his first two fingers to his tongue before dipping to slip them between your silken folds. 

It mixed with your arousal, jolting through you as his fingers curled into you. The stretch burned for a moment, but his touch was tactful, pressing upwards until colors began to dance in front of your eyes, soft sighs spilling.

You whined when his hand pulled away, wiping your slick onto his cock. He pushed forward until you melted back onto the bed. Your legs spread to invite him to the cradle of your hips, and he paused to look at you, a softer expression worn as his eye dropped to your lips. 

Your pulse quickened with your hope for a kiss. 

But instead, his hand dipped to guide his length. You felt a shiver of delight from the glide of his swollen cockhead up and down your slit, gathering the wetness that pooled. You ached for more, willing, wanting, canting your hips to angle yourself in a way for him to sink into you.

The prince took his time and you back arched, gooseflesh rippling over from the intimate pressure, from his intoxicating scent and the softness of his hair tickling your skin, from the heat that seemed to permeate from him. He pushed into you further and it was a fullness you had never experienced before; your walls clenched with the slow rut of his hips, deeper and deeper, until he fully sheathed himself within your warm cunt. 

The prince melted into you, molding to your body. His head tucked into the curve of your neck, his teeth nipping at your pulse to muffle his low groan that rumbled through you.

Your lips pressed to his collarbone, a muted mewl in response. Your vision spun and your legs lifted to wrap around his slender waist, pulling him closer. Your hands followed up the definition of his arms to his shoulders, nails biting to hold onto him; you licked his skin. 

He pushed back with a shudder, eye blown and red blotches staining his alabaster skin. A slow roll of his hips went even deeper and you moaned at the sensation. This pleased the prince, and his lips touched the soft spot under your ear, your nipples pebbling when you felt his smile, his rasped command on your skin: “Let them hear you.” 

The madame taught all the girls how to feign pleasure. There was an art of kohl and hooded eyes, of girlish whimpers and whines to encourage patrons to completion. 

But it was unneeded with how the prince was splitting you in half with his cock.

His palms pressed to hold you against the slow snap of his hips, fucking you into the bed until you were teetering on the precipice of both pleasure and pain. Tears pearled at the corners of your eyes and spilled with his brutal pace. He does not see them, his sharp chin tucked to his chest, mesmerized by the white ring forming around the base of his cock that glides in-and-out of you.

It sparked a kaleidoscope of colors with each thrust and you clenched again. “Gods,” he hissed, “you were made for me.” 

His praise was muted, your mind so lost in the haze of passion building, in the wet suction of your cunt desperate to pull him back into you. Your slick spilled in-between your thighs, your fingers fluttering to his hips to pull him even closer– 

But Prince Aemond pulled away. 

You could not stop your whine, pressing to your elbows to watch him. He cupped your chin, not  rough like before, but enough to tilt your head back and truly look at you. The severity of his features softened, the natural curl to his pink lips ticking upwards and hinting at a smile. “I want you to turn around and get on all fours.”

Your stomach dropped at the thought of him claiming his pleasure in a more… unnatural means, remembering the horror stories that the girls shared. You burned as you moved, just as he wished–for how could you deny a prince? You faced away, your arse up. 

His palms were warm when they touched your hips, sliding back to spread your cheeks to see how you glistened for him. There was another noise of content as he shifted behind you, another trill of pleasure up your spine when you felt his cock pressing into your cunt again. 

This new angle was tight, and your hands knotted into the linen of the bed to brace yourself. The prince does not force himself on you, but takes his time to fit; he leaned over you, his lips touching the curve of your spine and his large hand reaching around to palm your breast, pinching your nipple between his finger and thumb.

You crumbled, another muffled cry into the bed, your nerves aflame. His hand followed to the nape of your neck, a firm hold to pull you back up. “Let them hear you,” his repeated rasp was hot against your skin. 

His hands bruised into your hips, sinking into you until the tops of his thighs were flushed against your arse. You were shaking, your back arching to feel him pressing even further than before. He hummed and slammed into you with a pace that builds.

It returned you to that pleasure you tasted earlier when his fingers curled within you, something anew. It was a warm sensation that prickled over your skin, igniting with his thrusts. Your hips rocked back to meet with his unrelenting rhythm as he crashed against you, again and again, until you shattered, splintering off and lifting above, a thousand butterfly wings fluttering throughout you. 

Your cries pulled him after, your cunt grasping for his release. It was quieter for him; the prince hunched over you, his damp brow pressing to your spine with another guttural groan as he pulsed hot and deep into you. 

You fell into the mattress, breathless and drunk from the pleasure pulled. Your mind was tittering how you should fetch a cloth to clean the prince, to pour a fresh goblet to wet his throat, but your body refused. 

At best, you muscled enough strength to turn your neck and look at his sharp angles as he laid on his side, taking in the vision he commanded: the rose tones that touched him intimately, the freckles sprinkled on his shoulders, the lavender color that returned to his one eye. 

Princely, you thought. “Beautiful,” you murmured.

His jaw ticked and for a moment, you swore he flushed from what you said. He touched a finger to your hip, following your curves and coming up to press into your chin to hold your attention–as if you would dare to look away. 

“I will be back for you tomorrow,” he decided.

Your practiced stoicism masked your elation. “She will not like that, my prince,” you reminded him, thinking of the venom that poured when Sylvi glared at you. She made sure to mention him like a trophy she possessed, her face perpetually smug with her every mention of him. 

A smirk played on his lips. He pulled you into his chest and you felt his spend spilling in-between your thighs. You did not care but melted into his warmth, your arm wrapping around his waist, pressing your face to his chest and feeling the low hum of his heart. 

“She will be of no concern,” he spoke like a man who acted without any fear of consequences, but you supposed that this was the tone of all royalty. He pressed a kiss to your hairline and it jolted through your chest. “Iksā ñuhon.”

You curled against him, too dazed to comprehend the weight of his words that rolled from his lips–the tongue of Old Valyria. They meant nothing to you as you laid in the arms of a god.

hotd masterlist || arcie's navi

[quintinh43]

All My Heart | Quinn Hughes

Summary: Quinn has been off the ice for two weeks, and he isn't dealing with it well.

Pairings: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Anxiety/panic (attack?), general questioning of existence. Feelings, Angst, the whole roster basically.

Notes: yall please be careful reading this one! I did not mean for it to go the way it did but here we are. Please please please keep the warnings in mind, and if ever you need to stop reading please do. Take care of yourselves first loves. More notes at the end!

Wc: 1.6 k

---

Quinn felt like he was going insane. He'd been off the ice for two weeks due to an upper body injury, and it felt as if the restlessness had buried itself beneath his bones. He currently lay in bed, staring at the ceiling with tired eyes and a mind that wouldn't relax.

His foot shook incessantly beneath the blanket as he tried to fall asleep, but the thoughts kept whirling. He had been having trouble sleeping since he'd been benched. The constant string of anxious thoughts preventing his mind from quieting down enough for him to slip into a blissful sleep.

"Quinn." You grumble, voice laced with sleepiness. His constant foot shaking had been pulling you in and out of sleep since the two of you had settled down for the night. But you had kept quiet in the hopes that he would be able to fall asleep eventually.

"I'm sorry," Quinn whispers sheepishly, his fingers start drawing soothing circles into your waist, from where his arm is wrapped around you. "I didn't mean to wake you," he murmers, pressing his lips against your hair in a gentle kiss.

"It's alright, love. But can you please please stop shaking your foot?" You mutter, still half asleep.

"Yeah, sorry baby," he murmers sheepishly. He stills his foot, and somehow, the thoughts become ten times more intense. He's going on a full week with a total of maybe four hours of sleep. It's fucking hell. He's been getting snappy during the day. Although you mostly leave it be, because he usually apologizes right after, and you know he doesn't mean when he says it, and it's just his anxiety about not being able to play.

Deciding that there is no use in trying to sleep, he waits until your breathing evens out into a quiet snore before untangling himself from you and slipping out of the bedroom quietly. Quinn finds himself in the kitchen, with no plan on what to do. It's nearly three in the morning.

He settles onto the floor in favour of stretching. Hoping that it will help calm him at least enough so that he's no longer obscenely jittery. Unfortunately, it does nothing useful for him. His next idea is to watch a movie. Maybe something stupid and mind-numbing will put him to sleep.

He makes himself a cup of chamomile tea and sinks into the couch, turning on the first Despicable Me movie. It's perfectly stupid enough to get him no longer thinking about hockey. Except, then there's a freeze-ray. And then Vector's in-house shark aquarium is reminding him of the Canucks.

He pauses the movie and puts down his empty mug on the coffee table with such a deep sigh. It feels as though his bones are rattling. He presses his palms to his eyes in desperation, wishing oh so terribly that he could be skating and playing hockey. He feels chained, having not been allowed on the ice for so long.

His second home, his freedom. Where it feels like he's flying. Where he feels invincible, like he can do anything. Quinn springs up from the couch, and he's pacing. He paces around the living room with such fervor that he might wear a hole into the floor.

He needs to get on the ice. Now. Or he's going to rip his hair out. And then, on top of being injured, he'll also be bald. Which would be the second worst thing to ever happen to him. The first being the fact that he hasn't been allowed on the ice for two full weeks.

With no coherent plan, he creeps around the apartment, throwing his skating equipment in a spare duffle bag. He's grabbing his car keys and slipping on his shoes when the bedroom door opens with a creek.

"Quinn?" Your voice is tired and confused. You're hugging your arms around your body to protect yourself from the chill of the apartment.

Quinn looks like a deer caught in headlights. His hair is sticking up in every which direction, his eyes are red from exhaustion, and his eyebags are so so dark. He's wearing two different shoes, and for fucks sake he's not even wearing a shirt.

You amble over to him cautiously, gently tugging the duffle bag from his hand. You can see the blades of his skates sticking out of the bag. "Baby, what are you doing?" Your eyes dart over to the time on the microwave. It's 3:47 am.

"Y/n" he breathes, it's desperate and pleading, and all you want to do is wrap him in your arms and take away all his pain and worries. "I need to go- I need to get out. I'm going insane." He whispers. There's a tremor in his hands as he runs them through his hair.

"Ok, my love, we're gonna go. Let's go put on some proper clothes first." You say lacing your fingers with his and tugging him towards the bedroom. He sighs, squeezing your hand tightly. Like he needs the physical reminder that you're with him. Otherwise, you'll disappear.

You successfully coax him into a hoodie and a touqe and pull a pair of sweatpants and one of Quinn's hoodies over your (his) t-shirt. Making sure Quinn is wearing the correct set of shoes, you grab the keys off the hook, sling his duffle bag over your shoulder, and grab his hand. As soon as your hands are linked again, his grip is tight. And you wouldn't have it any other way.

You throw his bag in the back seat and slide into the driver's side while Quinn slips into the passenger seat. As soon as he can, he grabs your hand again. You hold your intertwined hands tucked under your chin while you drive.

"Talk to me, Quinn," you murmur softly, stroking your thumb over the back of his knuckles.

Quinn sighs shakily. He wants to talk to you. He really does. But he's so used to burying everything down, to not be a burden. He's the oldest. He's supposed to be the leader, the strong one. He knows in his heart that if there's anyone he can talk to, it's you. You don't push. You know he'll talk when he's ready.

His leg is bouncing, and he's running his hand through his hair nervously as he formulates his thoughts into coherent sentences. "I feel like i'm going insane," he mutters. "i need - i need to get on the ice. It's my freedom. I feel chained to existence because I haven't been able to skate for so long."

Your heart breaks for him as you squeeze his hand, letting him know that you're listening.

"I'm sorry, that doesn't make any sense," he sighs.

"No baby, it does, I get what you're saying," you say softly.

"It's like, I'm being punished for something. Am I a bad person?" His voice is cracking, and if you thought it impossible for your heart to break further, you were just proven wrong.

"No, Quinn, you aren't a bad person. Injuries are inevitable. You didn't do anything to deserve this. I promise you, my love." You kiss the back of his hand, hoping that your lips can pour all your love and reassurance into him.

"Where are we going?" Quinn asks, squinting curiously at the rapidly passing treeline. You had exited onto the highway a little bit ago, with no plan or intention.

You shrug your shoulders, "No idea, I'm just driving."

Guilt washes over Quinn like a tidal wave. He tugs his hand from yours and covers his face, with embarrassment and exasperation at himself. He sighs into his hands, and all of a sudden, the emotions are too much again.

"Quinn?" You glance at him with concern. He's breathing deeply, trying to keep the anxiety from spiking again.

"I'm so sorry, I woke you up and dragged out at such an ungodly hour. And fuck- you have work in the morning. Baby, I'm sorry, I'm sorry -" he sounds like he's on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Quinn, baby, look at me." Your voice is so gentle as you wrap your hand around his wrist and tug it away from his face, "You are the most important thing to me. Forever and always, especially especially right now. Please, please, please, don't beat yourself up about it. I would drop everything for you in a heartbeat, my love."

His breathing is still shallow. You rest his hand on your chest and take deep, slow breaths. "Copy my breathing, Quinn."

It takes a minute for his breathing to match yours, "Good job Honey" you smile, keeping his hand pressed against your chest.

"Can we go home?" He whispers, intertwining his fingers with yours.

"Of course, baby, whatever you want." You take the next exit and head in the direction of your shared apartment. The drive is mostly silent, only the sounds of deep breathing and the occasional shuddering sigh fill the car.

As soon as you're back in the apartment, Quinn is pulling off his hoodie and toque, "I need you to lay on top of me," Quinn all but begs.

"Alright, lay down wherever you want." You say, stripping if your own hoodie and sweats. He lays on the floor. The bed is too soft. He can't handle the sinking feeling. You lay directly on top of him, and he let's out a relieved sigh, his arms tightening around your waist.

"Love you so much, Y/n," he murmers into your cheek.

"I love you too, Quinn, with all my heart," you say gently, stroking his hair soothingly. He falls asleep within half an hour, and you pass out right after him.

And when the two of you wake up, if you take him skating. Well, that's no one's business but your own.

---

I know I said I probably wasn't gonna post for like a week and a half cause of school, but the inspiration hit, and I wrote this in like... an hour. So if it's really bad, well...

And just cause I haven't said it before, everything I write is purely fictional! I don't know how the hughes act in real life! I am simply writing them as characters.

I might end up taking this one down, so...

Anyways. Please take care of yourselves, yall. Leave comments! And as always, Love Soph.

[charcoallbaby]

professor sturniolo

smutttt everyone is 18+ nothing is underage.

my longest work yet! watched millers girls and got inspired, enjoy ! ending is petty hehe ^_^

do you ever wish you could have someone you know you can’t have? especially your married professor.

well that was me two months ago

i placed my books down onto my desk infront of me. the class was empty other than me, two quiet students sitting at the back and the professor of course. he had his back to us, writing the subject of todays class onto the chalk board. i studied his broad shoulder that flexed underneath his thin shirt.

i looked down at my blank phone screen. a notification quickly popped up. it was my mom.

mom💝

me and your sister are going out before you come home, we’ll be home late. make sure no drinking when i’m not home !!

“good morning everyone!” the professor spoke.

i quickly locked my phone before looking up. “well to the 3 people here,” he cleared his throat then leaned against his desk. he scanned his eyes around the room looking at us. his eyes met mine. i could feel my stomach drop. “while we’re waiting for everyone else would you like to introduce yourselves?” he crossed his arms. his eyes were still directly on mine. i looked down at my phone, reminding me of my mothers text. i rolled my eyes. she always has some excuse to not be home.

“you!” the professor called out. i quickly looked up. “me?” i pointed my finger on my chest. he nodded his head. “im y/n,” “y/n y/l/n.” my voice was shaky. “nice to meet you ms y/l/n,” he gave me a small smile. i gave him one back.

he was about to speak before he got interrupted by students piling into the room. “ah!” “you guys decided to join us,” “i’m mr sturniolo.”

he passed papers around the room. he was standing above me. i looked up at him before he placed my paper on the desk. he stared down at the books placed infront of me. “that’s a good one,” he pointed at my current read. i looked down at his hand especially a ring. fuck he’s married.

the book was was the virgin suicides.

“have you watched the film?” the words spilled from my mouth. “yeah i have actually, great movie too.” he gave me a smile before walking back to his desk.

“the paper i gave you is very important, so keep it close to you, if you lose it i sadly cannot replace so please do me and favour and don’t lose it,” someone raised their hand. “claire was it?” she nodded her head. “why can’t you replace a piece of paper?” she laughed. “something about the usage of paper, listen i have no idea, it’s a policy here,” his eyes quickly scanned to mine. he turned around and broke it. “now t-” he was cut off by the loud door opening. “sorry!” my best friend ivy smiled and rushed to sit beside me. “it’s fine, just don’t be late next time.”

“he’s so fucking fine,” ivy whispered into my ear. i turned and looked at her. i shook my head. “are we looking at the same person up there?” she looked at mr sturniolo. his back was to us. “look at his back,” she wined. “i would eat that up!” she licked her teeth. i rolled my eyes. “he’s like ten years older than us,” i placed my pen between my teeth. “what age are you?” “you look very young for a professor!” ivy spoke out. the whole class erupted into laughter. i face planted my head onto my desk. he cleared his throat. “that’s very inappropriate question to ask….” ��ivy!” she spoke. “well ivy that’s a very inappropriate question to ask your professor but i’m 29 and im guessing you all are what 20, 21?” “im not that old.” i finally lifted my head. “good to know thanks!” ivy smiled.

class finally ended. people were packing up their belongings. mr sturniolo made his way towards us.

fuck.fuck.fuck.

he looked at me before looking at ivy. “ivy can i speak to you?” he asked. “sure!” she zipped her bag up. “i’ll leave you guys sorry.” i stood up. “no need,” he fidgeted with his watch strap. i nodded my head. “don’t be late and please don’t make comments or questions like that anymore please ivy?” “i don’t wanna be the asshole teacher, can you do that for me?” i looked down at his hands again.

“sure, sorry.” she gave him a awkward laugh.

“great, see you guys tomorrow!”

it’s been a couple of days. i catch mr sturniolo staring at me every once in awhile, but im in the one who started staring first, so he’s just innocently staring back.

i was the first one in class. i internally sighed and found myself to my seat.

“morning ms y/l/n,” mr sturniolo turned around from the chalk board. “morning mr sturniolo,” i took my books out of my bags. “did you anything nice this weekend?” he asked. “um, went to a party wasn’t that fun though i went home after awhile, i hate going out,” i twisted the ring on my right index finger. “its been awhile since i’ve been to a college party, they usually aren’t that good aren’t they?” he let out a chuckle. “no not really, especially the boys,” i looked down at my lap. “one day they’ll realise they’re idiots don’t worry,” i looked up at him. “let’s hope!” the classroom door opened making us both look at it.

“y/n talk to me please,” my ex friends with benefits/situationship chase walked up to me.

“what the fuck?!” i exclaimed. “why are you coming to my classes chase?” “please, i need you so bad,” he whined. i let out a shocked laugh. “okay buddy that’s enough,” mr sturniolo stood in front of him. “professor please!” “no, out of my class!” “but!” “your harrasing one of my students leave now!” he pointed the door. chase growled and sped out of the room.

the class was now starting to fill up. he leaned down on my desk. “you okay?” his eyes met mine. i nodded my head. “i know it’s none of my business but see me after your classes today okay?” “okay.” i said softly.

i stood beside mr sturniolo’s desk while waiting for him.

the door opened, he hurried in.

“sorry y/n!” that’s the first he called me by my name which made me feel a way i know i shouldn’t have liked.

“it’s okay,” i licked my lips. “anyway i just wanted to ask if you want me to report that guy who came in earlier?” he titled his head while looking at me. i swore i tried to hold in a whimper. i looked down at the ground. “no, it’s okay thank you though,” i gave him smile. “you sure?” i nodded my head.

“yes he’s just some loser he’ll get the message soon.” “ex boyfriend?” he asked.

i wasn’t an expert but i knew he shouldn’t be asking me that, but i didnt mind.

“no……” “something worse you can probably imagine what i’m talking about,” i gave him a straight lined smile. “ah yes i can!” his cheeks quickly heated up. “i’ll see you tomorrow mr sturniolo.” “have a good day!”

i got home and layed down onto my bed, looking up at the ceiling thinking about the day.

especially mr sturniolo. his broad shoulders and his long fingers. i closed my eyes. having a wild imagantion was a blessing in disguise.

i slowly moved my hands down under my jeans, unbuttoning them and discarding them somewhere in my room. i slid my hand under my panties, i was soaking because the thought of him. holy fuck this was so wrong. he was my professor. he was a married man.

i slid my middle finger inside of me. i let a desperate moan.

“look at you,” “your in such a mess underneath me y/n." i picked up the pace, adding a second finger while imagining them words coming from his mouth.

his pretty pink lips eating me up as i grab onto his hair and watch his broad back clench.

it didn’t take me long to clench around my finger and shiver. i took a deep breath, trying to get my breathing back to normal. god i’m fucked up, i needed severe help.

i got to class, it wasn’t empty which i was definitely thankful for.

“morning ms y/l/n,” mr sturniolo spoke. “morning.” i muttered for a response. ivy was already sitting in the seat beside me. she finally didn’t skip.

“i didn’t get a morning,” she frowned. i rolled my eyes and took my seat beside her. “he’s just being nice,” i stated. “yeah sure, he stares at you like your a piece of candy waiting to be eaten,” she looked down at her nails. “what?” my mouth suddenly got dry. “he wants to fuck you bad, i can tell!” the glimmer in her eyes shined. i shrugged my shoulders. “i don’t think so,” “of course you don’t, you think no one wants you when your hot,” “he doesn’t want me.” i tapped my finger off the top of her nose. she smiled at me. “denial, denial, denial.”

i couldn’t concentrate in class after ivy’s comment and the fact that mr sturniolo wasn’t wearing his wedding ring. i shouldn’t care, but i do.

“mr sturniolo!” ivy exclaimed as people started to leave the class. “yes?” he looked at ivy. “ms y/l/n here is having problems with her paper!” ivy shot up. “oh you are y/n?” mr sturniolo asked. “i-” ivy cut me off. “sorry i have to go, my next class is on the other side of campus!” she scurried out.

“what’s the issue with your paper?” mr sturniolo stood behind me looking down at my work. “mr sturniolo-“ “you can call me matt,” he spoke. i nodded my head. “matt,” i cleared my throat. “i know im not a writer, but i feel like i have writers block, i have no idea to write about” “there’s nothing that comes to my mind,” i looked up at him. he was staring down at me. he looked so yummy oh my. “well, you want ideas?” he stood up straight. i nodded my head. “something you fantasise about, could be a dream job, something you wish could happen but you know it can’t, it could be a person,” he licked his dry lips. i gulped. “so you want me to write about something i wish i could have?” “i have to write about a fantasy world, a world i wish i could live in?” i asked. “that could work,” he rubbed his jaw. “okay thank you!” i gave him a small smile. “of course, just email me if you need any help.” he nodded his head. “definitely.”

“i’m jealoussssss!!!!” ivy put her head back and groaned. “you realise you have to fuck him now?” she sat back up and sipped her drink. “how?!” “i’ll just walk up to him after class and ask him to fuck me?” “yes!” ivy yelled. i laughed and shook my head. “listen, i’ll do the dirty work for you,” “which is?” i wondered. “i’ll be nosey in class and ask him does he have any plans for the weekend and if he gives us an answer, boom we show up there!” she smiled. “will this work?” “oh yes.”

“oh i didn’t realise you came here weekly ms sturniolo!” ivy exclaimed. “did you follow me here?” he asked looking me up and down. “no we’re here with some friends you know chase right?” she asked. “yeah i do,” he sipped his drink. “i’ll see you soon mr sturniolo.” ivy ran off as she always does.

“you look nice,” matt spoke. “you too matt,” i gave him a smile. “why are you here alone on a friday night?” i leaned against the bar. “i don’t know either y/n, i probably should be correcting papers but i’d rather be drinking my sorrows away!” he finished his glass. “i get you, i hate correcting papers on a friday night too,” i joked. he laughed. “you wanna go outside for a cigarette?” i asked. “i don’t smoke, but sure.” he grabbed his jacket.

he followed me outside. i put the cigarette between my lips, lighting it and slowly inhaling. i passed him the cigarette. he gladly took it and placed it between his lips. “thought you don’t smoke?” i turned to him. “thought you didn’t like going out?” he raised an eyebrow at me. “fair point,” i took it from his fingers. “your way too mature and way too much of a perfectionist for my class you do realise that don’t you?” matt leaned his head against the wall beside us. i smiled. “totally not true,” “i bet you have an apartment that’s perfect, i bet everything is planned out,” matt smiled. “i wish, my controlling mother told me that i still have to live with her while im in college, she says she wants to keep an eye on me but she just doesn’t want to me to turn into a drunk just like her,” i passed him the cigarette. “your not that type of girl from what can i see for the outside,” smoke exited his mouth. “and what can you see for the outside matt?” i looked up at him. he dropped the cigarette “a smart, smart girl,” his warm hand met my waist. “oh really?” i tried to contain myself. “mhm.” he mumbled while leaning down.

his soft warm lips met mine, it was better than i would imagined. i hungrily kissed him back, my hands wrapping around his neck. he pulled my bottom lip between his teeth making me feel dizzy. “you wanna go somewhere?” he asked. i quickly nodded my head.

we ended up at an hotel.

matt pressed the key card against the reader. the door beeped, matt pushed the door opened.

“sorry it’s a bit messy, i just got here last night,” matt stated. “why are you here?” i let slip out. “i caught my wife cheating on me again,” he sighed before shutting the drapes. “again?” i wondered. “yeah i caught her awhile back, i forgave her but i fell out of love with her a long time ago,” he cleared his throat and placed himself down onto the bed. “im sorry.” i bit my lip. “it’s good, c’mere,” he put his hand out.

i walked over to him and took it. he smiled up at me. his hand met my inner thighs, making me glad that i picked out a mini dress. "no panties?” matt growled. i gulped. he pressed his thumb to my clit. i whined. he looked down at his hand while slipping his fingers inside of me. a small moan came from my mouth. he moved his fingers inside of me. “matt.” i whined as he worked fingers deeper inside of me. he leaned his forehead against my stomach. “i wish you weren’t this wet, i would of loved to work for it.” his voice was deep. my eyes rolled onto the back of my head.

dirty talk never did it for me usually, but i never wanted matt to stop talking.

i grabbed onto matt’s hair. “there it is, it’s right there isn’t it?” he panted. “mhm,” i mumbled as he pounded his fingers into me, hitting my g-spot. “keep going,” “i’m not stopping until you finish all over my fingers baby,” his pace slowed down suddenly, i was confused. he took his fingers out, licked them and put his head between my legs. “lay down, so i really taste you.” i quickly followed his order and layed myself down.

matt laced his fingers up and down my wet my folds. “i bet you taste sweet do you?” his eyes looked dark. “i-i don’t know,” i whined. “taste yourself then,” he put his fingers infront of my mouth. i took his fingers into my mouth and licked them clean. “you do taste so sweet,” he dipped his head low between my legs. his warm tongue met my folds. he came back up. “you want me to ruin you?” i nodded my head. “i need a answer princess,” he took his shirt off. “yes, yes.” i breathed out. “let me eat you up first.”

he was roughly eating me out like he couldn’t get enough of me. my legs were wrapped around his shoulders, his hands were gripping my thighs.

matt made me come with his mouth, which has never happened before especially with a man.

“your so wet and silky,” his tip met my folds. a quiet moan came from my mouth. he pounded into me. his hand was hovering over me grabbing onto the headboard, he was making the whole bed shake. but i had always had a feeling he liked fucking girls rough.

i was dreading class after friday. matt fucked me until the sun came up, god it was a come fest.

me and ivy found our seats, i stayed quiet, he didn’t say hi to me which he does most mornings but he fucked me all night on friday so i guess he’s done with the hi’s now.

“morning everyone,” he rubbed his hands together.

he had his ring on. i looked at ivy who was too busy looking at her nails. “ivy,” i whispered. “yeah?” she looked up at me. “he’s wearing his ring,” i gulped. she didn’t answer but only looked at matt.

“this saturday me and my wife went on a little trip so i haven’t corrected any papers that were handed in yet, but you’ll get them by this friday i promise.” he spoke. me and ivy quickly made eye contact. “wife?” “i thought she cheated?” she whispered. “well apparently he’s back with her, he got back with her the last time.” i sighed.

“what is so interesting girls?” matt interrupted us. “oh nothing, just talking about boys you know how it is mr sturniolo!” ivy winked. he let out a heavy sigh. “alright guys topic for today is on the board,” “ms y/l/n, could i speak to you outside?” i froze. “yeah sure.”

i followed him outside. this is the day i die.

he closed the door after me. “what?” i crossed my arms. “i dont need your attitude,” he snapped. “did your wife cheat on you because you have angry issues or are you guys back together now?” i titled my head. “actually!” “i couldn’t care less,” i smiled. “i wanted to say me and my wife are fine, i love her and friday was a mistake i wasn’t in the right head space when i found her and some guy in our bed,” he sighed. “don’t trauma dump on me, i couldn’t not give a fuck about you and your wife, but if you love her so much did she know you were pounding inside of a 21 year olds pussy on the weekend huh?” “be quiet!” matt whispered. “fuck you.” i opened the door to the classroom.

“ivy let’s go get your bag,” i stated. “what?” she said confused “we’re leaving this assholes class room.” the whole room was staring at this point.

matt walked back in flustered.

“just to let everyone know, this man right here, your teacher, indulges in sex with college girls!” i yelled and left the room. “he also has a tiny dick!” i yelled before the door shut.

“is it actually?” ivy asked. “no it’s huge but i can’t let people know that.”

hi! this ending is kinda silly <3333

[papiliotao]

꒰ 𝒔𝒖𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒚 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 ✩࿐

pairings: kazuha, scaramouche, and xiao x gn!reader (separate)

content: fluff, kissing, mutual pining, pocky game

summary: in which you convince your best friend to play the pocky game with you.

a/n: i don't know why i've suddenly developed an obsession with kissing. either way, please enjoy reading!

“I’m sorry. I must have heard you incorrectly,” KAZUHA says with a smile. A slight dusting of rose pink tints his cheeks a hue reminiscent of bygone sunsets as he shyly glances away from you. “But if I wasn’t mistaken, then I wouldn’t be opposed to your idea,” he whispers.

Your heart skips a beat.

Kazuha is charming beyond measure. His words flow like the autumn breeze, and the way he acts around you never fails to make your heart flutter.

“Let’s play the Pocky game,” you repeat yourself.

Kazuha’s grin widens. “So my ears weren’t deceiving me,” he says, trailing off towards the end. He meets your gaze, and as you look into his eyes, you swear you can see molten ruby glints of adoration glittering in their depths. However, you don’t want to get your hopes up, so you brush it off as nothing more than your imagination playing tricks on you.

Kazuha gently reaches out for the pack of Pocky you’re holding and opens it. He takes one stick out and sets the rest of the pack down on a nearby table.

“Shall we?” he asks.

He lifts the Pocky up to your lips, and you bite down. You immediately notice that he ended up giving you the side that you prefer. It shocks you how well he remembers the little things. Even though you’re best friends, you didn’t expect Kazuha to recall such an obscure intricacy. It was just something you had offhandedly mentioned once, yet in Kazuha’s mind, it was a statement that remained vivid and bright, akin to the most picturesque of memories.

He must really care about you.

Kazuha bites the other end, and as he does, you feel your skin heating up. He’s so close. It feels like your brain is short-circuiting. Why does your best friend have to be so undeniably handsome? Up close, it is impossible for you to miss his snowy hair, reminiscent of dazzling glacial glimmers of winter, as well as eyes filled with flurries of autumn maple leaves dancing about, mingling with flecks of stardust.

The two of you nibble at your respective ends of the Pocky stick. To your slight dismay, Kazuha takes his time, savouring the moment instead of trying to rush things. You feel yourself getting more flustered by the second. While he had initially appeared slightly shy, he’s now completely calm and composed, and in stark contrast to him, you’re an absolute mess on the inside.

Before you know it, your lips are practically touching Kazuha’s. He’s so close. You can feel his breath fanning your face, and soft strands of platinum hair tickle your skin.

You freeze up. Now your brain has really stopped functioning. You can’t do anything while Kazuha is this close to you, and you doubt you’ll be able to make another move before Kazuha does something. Why did you think this was a good idea again?

Luckily for you, Kazuha takes the initiative of snapping you out of your trance by taking the last bite. Your lips meet for just a split second before both of you pull away, looking anywhere but each other as you immerse yourselves in the afterglow of your actions.

A silence hangs in the atmosphere for what feels like an eternity before Kazuha speaks.

“I’m sorry if I was a bit too bold with my advances,” Kazuha says apologetically. He manages to muster the courage to look at you, and as you scan his face, you notice a whole plethora of emotions swimming through his expression. Your best friend smiles at you sheepishly.

Your heart melts upon seeing his grin.

You shake your head. “No, don’t worry. I actually kind of enjoyed it, even the part where we kissed…” you admit shyly.

Kazuha breathes out a sigh of relief. He seems strangely happy.

“Then in that case, please allow me to request a favour,” Kazuha says. He waits for you to nod before continuing. “This may be a bit presumptuous of me, but please kiss me again — properly, this time.”

“You can’t be serious,” your best friend says without a hint of hesitation lacing his words. SCARAMOUCHE’s eyes narrow as he reciprocates your stare.

“But I am,” you reiterate.

He shakes his head and crosses his arms in front of his chest. Strands of hair spun of the midnight sky fall in front of his eyes as he moves, and his breath hitches for just a moment when he realizes you’re not kidding.

“This is ridiculous,” he mumbles before he takes a packet of Pocky off his bedside table. With a few tugs, the silvery wrapping tears apart. He takes out a singular stick of the sweet treat.

“Will you shut up if I do this for you?” he asks.

“I will,” you promise, although you have no intention of adhering to your agreement.

Scaramouche always acts as if he’s irritated by you, but you know he enjoys your company. On occasions as rare as an appearance of the northern lights, he admits that he cares for you, making your heart glow up with all the colours of the brilliant Aurora Borealis.

You know him better than anyone, but what you’re not sure of is how he’ll react to playing the Pocky game with you. Most of the time, he’s quite stoic — apathetic despite the sentiments and colours of the world that flow on the wind.

But no one would be able to maintain a calm demeanour when they’re practically kissing their best friend, right?

It’s time to find out.

“You can have the side dipped in chocolate,” Scaramouche says. “And don’t you dare think I’m doing this for you. I just happen to hate sweets.”

You giggle. “Sure,” you say playfully. You know that Scaramouche is telling the truth, but it’s always fun to tease him because it elicits the best reactions.

However this time, Scaramouche just groans and holds up a stick of Pocky.

“Get to it before I change my mind,” he tells you.

Scaramouche lifts the treat up to his lips and sinks his teeth into the plain end. He stares at you expectantly, waiting for you to make a move. You bite down on your end, and you feel your face heat up. You’re too flustered by your proximity to your best friend to notice the sweet taste of chocolate bursting in your mouth.

Gradually, you nibble at the chocolate-coated snack while Scaramouche does the same. It seems like neither of you are feeling too bold at the moment; however, you still inch closer and closer with every passing second.

It’s painfully slow, and as time drags on, the rate of your heartbeat only starts increasing. Each excruciating second undergoes a metamorphosis into a century as your best friend’s blush-tinted face draws closer to your own.

And finally, when only a few centimetres remain between the two of you, he stops. You’re frozen in place too, and as you gaze into his eyes, everything around you becomes irrelevant — mere specks of fading supernovas in a galaxy of wonders.

Your breath hitches.

In all your years of knowing Scaramouche, he has never appeared this shy before. It’s endearing, heart-warming. Who knew that this adorable side to him existed?

One second…

Two seconds…

And three seconds pass.

Before Scaramouche finally decides to make a move. He leans in. Closer and closer.

You tense up, but at the same time, you feel yourself melt into an amalgamation of giddiness. You’re ready for whatever will happen next.

You feel the urge to squeeze your eyes shut, almost anticipating a kiss, but thankfully, your hopes aren’t too high. Because just when Scaramouche’s lips barely ghost yours, causing your heart to flutter like maple leaves in autumn wind, he pulls back, snapping off the last bit of Pocky.

“I win,” Scaramouche says after swallowing the final piece. His face is adorned with a smirk and a proud expression that you just know you’ll be seeing for the next few days.

“I guess so,” you sigh, admitting defeat. “But don’t act like you weren’t blushing like crazy a few seconds ago!”

Scaramouche freezes for a second before crossing his arms. “I did no such thing.”

“Oh, really?” you question.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he groans. He narrows his eyes at you, refusing to admit that he had allowed you to glimpse into his heart and learn the true nature of his feelings.

However, as your conversation continues, shades of sunset begin to dust his cheeks once more, dawning on his pale complexion like the most serene instances of carefree days bleeding into vivid nightfalls.

“This is foolish,” XIAO says bluntly, staring at you intently with eyes full of honeyed sunlight as you open a pack of Pocky.

He’s not impressed, and you can tell. However, you know that even though Xiao acts as though he’s unwilling to partake in the little game you proposed, he’s not actually against it. After all, you know him. He’s your best friend, and after years of growing up together, you’re sure that he’ll do anything to make you happy, especially if it’s something as trivial as this.

“I know,” you respond nonchalantly. You’ve learned how to deal with Xiao’s tough-on-the-outside attitude by now. Deep down, you know that first of all, as a more reserved person, he doesn’t have the most profound understanding of others, so he might find some of their games rather absurd. Secondly, he’s not great at expressing his emotions, so even though he sounds angry or irritated at times, you understand him well enough to read him like a book.

Xiao merely sighs quietly in response. “Let’s get this over with.” He looks down at the ground, and for a second, you swear you can see the beginnings of a blush coming to life on his face.

You nod and take out a stick of Pocky. You put one end in your mouth and soon enough, Xiao follows your lead.

At first, he stares at you with uncertainty swimming within the daffodil hues of his irises. He’s a little confused, and you don’t blame him. Xiao isn’t someone who usually spends a lot of time with others, so he’s not familiar with things like the latest trends and popular games.

However, he quickly picks up on what he’s supposed to do when you take a bite of the chocolate-coated treat. Xiao follows in your lead, and although each nibble he takes seems slightly hesitant, you note that he’s still trying his best for you. It nearly makes your heart melt into an amalgamation of butterflies.

Xiao seems to be getting more and more flustered by the second. As you inch closer to him, you almost feel as though you can sense the rapid beating of his heart sending reverberations through the air, creating echoes that tell tales of unspoken emotions and unexplored sentiments.

And before you know it, his face is barely an inch away from yours. You can feel his breath tickling your skin and the heat radiating off his face.

The sight of Xiao acting endearingly shy is something you barely ever see. Sure he’s proven to you that he cares for you multiple times, but he’s never been this flustered before. Most of the time, you’re the one who ends up like that around him. Whether it’s a situation where Xiao walks by the side of the road, keeping you as far away from danger as possible whenever you go out for strolls or a scenario where he awkwardly hugs you after a bad day, you can’t help but blush in his presence.

This time, things are the same yet so, so, different. As always, your heart feels as though it’s reeling and on the verge of exploding due to your proximity to Xiao. The only thing that’s changed is the look on Xiao’s face — eyes shining with affection and cheeks tinted with a hue reminiscent of cherry blossoms in the spring divulge feelings that you have long been waiting to see.

The world around you freezes, and for a paradoxical second in a universe where time is infinite, Xiao is the only one in your thoughts, and you’re sure that it’s the same on his end. Everything is nonsensical for a moment, and you don’t know who makes the first move, but soon enough, your lips meet, shattering the perfect dimension you and Xiao have crafted.

For a brief flash of time, you feel yourself kissing Xiao. It’s everything you had imagined and more. Your heart skips a beat, and stars seem to illuminate your world as you relish in the soft feelings that spring from the contact. But to your dismay, the whole experience is over just as quickly as it had begun.

Both you and Xiao pull away when you realize what you’ve done. You both avoid eye contact, shyly averting your gazes so that you can’t see the other. For a few awkward moments, silence hangs in the air.

“Let’s never talk about this again,” you say, mustering up the courage to take a peek at Xiao.

He nods in agreement, looking back at you.

But deep down, the two of you know that there’s nothing you long for more than another kiss.

thank you for reading! i'm sorry if this wasn’t that good. i’ve been really busy with finals and assignments, so i don’t have quite as much time to write. please consider commenting/reblogging if you enjoyed this!

[milevenstancyendgame]

This was so beautiful, OP, I have to put my favourite lines here:

"After a moment of reveling in his existence" - This is poetry!❤️

"How lucky she is to love a boy who never stops talking. She could listen to his voice for the rest of her life, and never get sick of it." - Such a great reference to the lighthearted S3 scene between Max and El, in this super serious scene. Goes from funny to heartwarming to ❤️‍🔥

"No matter who she is from moment to moment, he’ll continue to love her to the end of his days." - This shit right here. Unambiguous true love.

“Th—thank you.”

“For what?” He asks.

“For finding me in the woods.” - 😭😭😭 SHOT THROUGH THE HEART This hits so hard, man

"But she takes comfort in knowing Mike sees her the same way with or without hair: pretty." - Another beautiful reference.😭🥰

I’ve had this sitting in my drafts for a bit, so I thought, in honor of the mileven we saw today, I might as well post it! Let me know what y’all think!

[angelzarchive]

spencer bf hcs? I've read all the spencer tumblr fics too :,)

request: spencer bf hcs? i’ve read all the spencer tumblr fics too :,) / from the lovely @earspop! thank you for giving me the opportunity to write some spencer content, i love his sm so i had a lot of fun with this request. i think i got far too into and it turned out to be a little longer than i was expecting but i hope you enjoy it <33

pairing: spencer agnew x fem! insinuated reader — i’m sorry not all works i do will be gender specific, i’m just a sucker for spencer saying ‘pretty girl’

a/n: yayyy! this is finally my first ever work on tumblr and it’s also my first time doing hcs / x reader so bare with me if it’s not so good lol. i’m so nervous yet excited to share this. i just hope you all enjoy. and by all means, if you see any errors or mistakes, please feel free to point them out. it’s not edited yet because i wanted to get it out quickly, so a little note if you see any would be greatly appreciated! if you have any requests you’d like to see, please leave them <3

for spencer, meeting you was what he could only describe as love at first sight.

from the moment you had first walked through the smosh doors and introduced yourself as their newest addition, he was smitten.

not only did he think you were the most beautiful person he’d ever laid his eyes on, but he was completely infatuated by your personality and how well you immediately got along with everyone.

you quickly found out you both had very similar humour and could riff off of each other effortlessly.

so, it didn’t take long for the two of you to become friends. best friends, in fact. spencer had made it his own little secret mission to ensure it.

and before you knew it, you were attached at the hip. between spending your lunch breaks and most weekends together, your friends found it almost impossible to catch either of you alone.

he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was always trying to impress you. especially by making you laugh with his silly jokes. he had loved the sound of your laugh since the first time he’d made you fling your head back, mouth open wide and hands clutching your stomach. he was in awe of your bright smile and he vowed to never stop trying to make it happen.

falling for you was inevitable, he was a goner from the beginning. and the feeling wasn’t much different on your part, your crush on the man only grew stronger each day.

getting together wasn’t an easy process though, it took far too long for either of you to admit your feelings to yourselves — never mind one another.

you were both too worried about about the consequences of it going wrong, not wanting to ruin the cherished friendship you’d established.

much to the dismay of your friends, of course, who were all progressively getting more and more annoyed at the both of you for being so clueless. it was like everyone but you two could see how in love you were with each other.

it was spencer who built up the courage to admit his feelings first, although he hadn’t actually intended to.

it happened during your weekly movie night. you noticed there was something off about him immediately, sensed it as soon as he had walked through the door and plonked himself on the furthest end of your sofa — quite a distance away from where he’d usually sit, right by your side.

he was fidgeting the entire time and seemed like his mind was else where. you’d barely gotten an hour into the movie when you’d had enough and pressed pause.

you urged him to tell you what was wrong and without a second thought, all in one breath, he admitted his feelings for you.

you were beyond shocked but it didn’t take you long to return the favour.

that night you’d finished the movie in each others arms, whispering sweet nothings.

to this day, spencer regrets how he told you. he wishes it was more romantic and better thought out, but you wouldn’t change it for the world.

and you’d been together ever since then.

spencer is the sweetest boyfriend ever and you loved being able to witness this new side of him.

turns out, he’s the biggest hopeless romantic.

from day one, his silly nicknames for you had taken a romantic turn. he started calling you “my love”, “baby” and even “pretty girl” — which you were obsessed with (if you don’t like nicknames, just discard this part!).

the guy literally praises the ground you walk on. he can never seem to shut up about you, always finding some way to bring you up in conversation. usually, he’s bragging about you.

he always says he‘s not entirely sure why you like him or how he managed to bag you, but he’s grateful it paid off. sometimes he’ll make a joke that he knows is really nerdy and he’ll follow it up with a “i don’t know why they like me either” or a “they’ll never want to touch me again”.

he will randomly use the cheesiest pick up lines on you. you could both just be chilling and out of no where he’ll hit you with a “baby, if you were words on a page, you’d be fine print” just because he “felt like it”.

at work, he loves to bring you lunch and leave you a cute little note.

at home, he will sit you down on his lap and teach you how to play his favourite games so that he can play them with you. though once you get the hang of it, he does get very competitive. god forbid you get more kills than him in fortnite, even though he is super impressed — “that’s my girl.”

he also likes to play his games with you laying your head in his lap. there’s something about you being interested in what he’s playing that makes him want to take his shirt off really happy. even if you end up falling asleep during, at which point he’ll make great effort not to wake you up until he’s done. which usually doesn’t take too long because watching you sleep so peacefully in his lap has him eager to cuddle up with you in bed.

speaking of, when cuddling, he usually really likes to lay his head on your chest with your arms wrapped around him or have your whole body weight on top of him. he’s happy to be either big or little spoon.

although he may not be the biggest fan of over the top PDA, he does like to be touching you in some way or other. he’ll usually have his hand placed on you, either on the bottom your back or on your waist. he enjoys playing with your fingers and the hem of your clothes. when sitting, he’ll definitely have his arm wrapped around the back of your chair.

he really loves to show you off and as a result, his insta feed is full of your pictures. it may as well be his personal fan account for you. furthermore, he comments on every single one of your posts. he’s always your biggest hype man.

big fan of sending you memes on any and every social media platform you both have. if you don’t react to them, he will send you either an angry or sad face emoji.

he has made custom memes for you and your relationship, with a number of them featuring in who memed it videos. very easy points for the cast members.

he likes to save videos he’s seen that remind him of you or the stuff he thinks would make you laugh, immediately showing you when you’re next together.

spencer is a very good, active listener. he’s always willing to hear you talk, whether it be about your interests or something that’s bothering you and he will always have a question to ask or solution to provide. he even remembers the smallest things you tell him, which he’ll bring up to you months later and you’ll be pleasantly surprised.

he definitely writes down every important date between you both.

he’s a very thoughtful gift giver and likes to spend time just planning what he wants to get you. he believes you deserve nothing less and likes every last detail to be perfect.

you’ll usually get each other a funny card with the presents though. it’s become a tradition for you both to draw a little silly something inside (like a character from a show you’re both watching together)— even if it turns out very poor. the messages inside are pretty romantic and heartfelt, no matter the occasion.

spencer is very quick to notice when you’re upset and when he does, he’ll do everything in his power to cheer you up. playing one of his characters usually works pretty fast, especially the chosen and fred darts. they’re so ridiculous, they end up distracting you.

he definitely makes you playlists of songs that remind him of you or that he recommends and he absolutely listens to all the songs you recommend him, without skipping a second. if he likes them, he’ll let you know it.

whenever he has a new idea for a video or a character to play, you’re the first person he will run it by. he really values your input.

you guys definitely have cat babies and he absolutely will send you pictures of them if you’re away. they’ll have a caption that says something like “we miss you” or “look how cute our son/ daughter is, they definitely take after you”.

a/n: and this is all the hcs i have for now, however i will definitely be updating this list.

[hompty]

Fanart for an amazing fic by @existwound !!! Guys do yourselves a favour and READ this fic it’s so good,,

This is a scene from chapter 1 but guys the 3rd chapter came out today and holy shit it was awesome, I can’t wait for the last one!! (no rush ;) )

Fic link below!!