#fallon carrington fanfiction

[peachyteabuck]

be careful of the curse (that falls on young lovers)

summary: fallon is one of your clients, but she’s much more to you than just someone who’s purchased several hours of your time

a commission for @cherrysweetdevine​

pairing: fallon carrington x reader

words: 2703

content warnings: vaginal fingering, minor bloodplay, blood drinking, allusions to whorephobia, reader is a sex worker/blood bank for vampires

“Ms. Carrington?” You call out, trembling just a little as you step inside her large mansion. The dress she sent you to hear this week doesn’t leave much to keep you warm in the chilly October weather, certainly. But the fear you’ve always felt stepping through her front door has never subsided. It’s settled into your belly as if you’d grown an extra organ that struggles to find its place among your liver and kidneys.

What you’re wearing certainly doesn’t help your nerves, either.

The dress – some bastardized version of a French maid costume – clings to your breasts. You can imagine this is how cicadas feel when they’re getting ready to shed their skin, desperate for the dastardly exoskeleton to split open and give its host relief. The skirt, blessedly, does not confine you in any sense. It does, however, reveal the matching lace of your panties (that Fallon also purchased for you, and was delivered with the rest of the attire) any time someone so much as whispers in your direction.

Given Fallon’s past requests, you’re very sure that was on purpose. You’re sure it’s the same with the heels – tall, skinny, loud as they clack against the marble floor. As a kid, you once found a collection of your father’s vintage porn magazines hidden behind a stack of quarterly reports from his accounting firm. Those pinups, with their skimpy versions of various professions’ signature outfits, were once your pinnacle of beauty. You studied them like textbooks, watching their garters and fishnets and short dresses and lowcut tops. As an adult, though, as you pulled similar items onto your body, you did  it without any of the childish revere.

Still, you did it anyway. “I wasn’t really feeling it today” doesn’t pay your bills, and plus, you like Fallon. Fallon intrigues you. Most of your clients are people you’d rather never see again; too boring, too annoying, too desperate, too cheap. It’s welcome to be intrigued by her. Your job, while exciting to all those you tell of it, still occasionally is dreadfully boring. Nothing matters as much as Fallon does. It’s dangerous to put her on such a pedestal; your clients are just that—clients. They care about you in the same way one cares about their pets or expensive espresso machines.

The sound of her heels distracts you from your train of thought. As you turn to the source of the sound, you see her and nearly gasp.

She’s gorgeous, the long black dress hugging her body as if it was a second skin. The neckline dips between her breasts, revealing a deep V of pale skin.

You’ve played this game for a while. Her, acting coy and as if she is not a black widow who has murdered more than a dozen men in her hundred-year lifespan. You, acting as though you don’t know her cunning, monstrous ways.

One hand rests on the black barrister, her pale hand contrasting against the dark wood. The other holds a martini glass filled with a dark, thick liquid you know, from experience, is human blood. When you first took this job, her habits petrified you more than anything else in your life had. Now, it’s the least terrifying part of your deeply strange occupation. You’d allowed many a vampire to take from you, sipping from your neck or inner thigh or wrist. Fallon was the only, though, to be allowed to hold you as she drinks from your neck.

“So lovely of you to join me tonight,” she says with a sinister smile. She reminds you of cartoon wolves, or lions advancing toward a limping zebra. When watching nature documentaries, you’d never considered if the prey understood their imminent demise, if they were acutely aware of the danger lurking behind the tall grass. Certainly, the beasts had evolved to stalk quietly, to keep their lips sealed even as they drooled. But did they need to? Do they need to grant their target one last shred of hope, if they will force it to die in equal parts fear and pain?

You try to mask your glee at see her with a sly smile. “I had a hole in my schedule, so I knew I could fit in an appointment, especially for such a lovely customer.”

She smiles back, and you hope she’s bought your nearly translucent cover.

Fallon looks at you for just a moment, examining you from her position—checking, you think, to make sure you wore the outfit she asked for.

“Well, come on up, darling,” she tells you, turning and walking in the direction of her bedroom. Acclimated enough to know her cues, you follow her into the lavishly decorated bedroom.

She doesn’t sleep—none of them do, you’ve found. They have beds, of course. Hard to blend in or entertain guests if you have no beds. But very few of them decorate the way she does. Fallon’s got a keen eye for interior décor that’s also functional, a balance the older men you see rarely seem to strike. She once said she has secret compartments everywhere filled with trinkets she’s collected over her long life, antique jewelry, teeth from humans and animals, first-edition books from before the 19th century. Sometimes, when she’s feeling playful, she’ll pick an area and have you try to find where the objects are hidden. She stands there, watching you like a child at the zoo, sipping from a wine glass filled with a liquid you don’t ask the origin of as you tap against wood and push against books.

The intricate dance between you two begins as you step into the threshold, taking your usual place in the center of the four-poster bed. There, on your back, your upper body propped against well-fluffed pillows, your eyes follow her as she crosses the room to lay at your side.

She can hear your heartbeat, hear the blood rushing through your veins. Like drums in the distance, it thumps in her inner ear as she drags her teeth across the skin of your collar bones. You’ve never been robbed before, certainly never robbed at knifepoint. But every time you’ve seen someone in those black-and-white movies Fallon loves so much backed into a wall with a switchblade, you imagine it feels just like this. Danger so close you can taste it, your life betting on the mercy of a creature you’ve seen rip men’s hearts from their chests with their bare hands.

She climbs on top of you without preamble, stealing the breath from your lungs as her pelvis crashes against yours. Her hands hold your hips in place, her nails perfectly painted and sharpened into points threatening to tear into the cheap fabric of your frilly dress.

Fallon leans closer, and it takes all of your will not to press your warm body against her cold one. That’s another thing Fallon likes—the chase.

“Don’t you want to be a good girl for me,” she moans in her signature fake pout. It’s something you’ve only seen her pull off; that faux-final girl facial expression hiding behind a nearly feral glint in her eye. She could convince you (and, given her history, anyone else) to do anything she wanted with that tone, with her big eyes, with a small bite of her lip.

There’s something almost poetic about it you. The riches she’s gained with the ever-so-subtle touch of one of her nails likely reaches the hundreds of billions, and here she is, using it just for the honor of taking a few pints of blood. The money she takes never returns – lawyers, sex, and shame keep people’s lips sealed. Your blood always comes back, though, so it always feels like you’re getting the better end of the deal.  

(But then again, so did those old, wrinkly-ass men.)

“A-always, Mistress,” you finally stutter out, biting into your bottom lip to keep yourself from moaning. She grinds against you slowly, purposefully. God, she feels good against you.

She leans down, brushing her lips against your ear. It sends shivers down your spine, and once more you struggle not to turn your head and crash your mouths together. “Then give me what I want.”

“Yes, Mistress,” you whimper, turning your head so she has full access to the column of your neck.

Fallon, unlike the other vampires you’ve worked for in your career, likes to take her time with you. The others—possibly still waiting to unwrap the shame around their desires, possibly just not wanting to pay extra—always took what they needed, paid you, and then had you leave without a trace. No small talk, no pleasantries, no conversation, nothing. With merely a nod of acknowledgment, the creatures waiting on the sidelines as you laid on the settee or bed or whatever else they had purchased just so people like you could be comfortable while you were fed upon.

The woman on top of you, grazing her expertly painted lips over your neck, is a nice change of pace from your usual clientele.

It doesn’t hurt, the feeling of her teeth making tiny punctures into your skin. She keeps them sharpened (the term “vampire dentist” feels like the punchline to a bad Halloween joke, but in truth they’re all too real), the enamel filed down to a steep point that reminds you of a toothpick or a razer blade. This doesn’t stop you, though, from gasping just a bit as she drinks from your left carotid artery.

She holds you down, one hand keeping its place on your hip and the other moving to support the back of your neck. The feeling of her tongue over the wound, her light kisses pressed to your neck, her palm holding you at the perfect angle…your head swims as everything converges inside of you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” she murmurs, her cold hands tracing up and down your thighs. The threat of her razor-sharp nails is only dulled by her supernatural control over her own movements. With anyone else, you’d be scared. With her, all you can do it watch her as her eyes drag over your body.

Her hand falls below the skirt, brushing her hands over your trembling thighs. Her nails – sharp as her teeth and dark as her lips – trail over the hem of the frilly panties. You imagine they were made for cents on the dollar and would fall apart if you so much as whispered in their direction. Fallon, though, makes you feel as though you’re wearing lingerie made of Mulberry silk.

You know she can smell you; smell your blood as it pounds through your veins, smell your core as it weeps under her gaze. She knows you know this, too, her confessing her supernatural senses after you accompanied her to some grand vampire dinner. Only there, as she pushed you into an empty bedroom and kissed up the column if your neck, did she confess that everyone at the long, oak table knew how wet you were under your blue velvet dress.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” she purrs, maneuvering your panties so the palm of her hand is pressed against your aching clit. “All this for me, baby?”

You moan, the sound so lewd it scares you. “Yes, Mistress, please-“

The word becomes a choked, animalistic noise as she begins rubbing her hand up and down the slick flesh, gathering the wetness at your dripping pussy before grinding the heel of her hand against the most sensitive part of you. She’s barely touching you compared to what you’re used to—no intricate ropes or morphing into fantastical beasts or fucking you with the ride array of strap ons she keeps organized by size in an armoire. This feels even bigger than all of those, though, her guiding you up the mountain of pleasure with a single hand.

The other, still present at the back of your neck, angles your face towards hers. You can see the remnant trails of your blood at the sides of your mouth, but it doesn’t stop you from accepting her deep kisses. The iron and copper taste doesn’t deter you, no, doesn’t keep you from slipping your tongue into her mouth. It also doesn’t stop you from begging for more, more—from pleading for whatever it is she’s willing to give you.

“So cute,” Fallon murmurs, smirking as you pant into your mouth. “Cum for me, baby” she purrs. “Give me what I want.”

It’s easy to follow her command, screaming as you reach your peak. She rubs you through it, only pulling away when your whimpers turn more painful than pathetic. Fallon eventually pulls away, leaving you as she murmurs something about replenishing your body and finding something to drink.

As she exits, you begin to wish you could know her more—wish she’d tell you about what life was like before she turned, how the world had changed around her as she tried to keep her status under wraps. She had only told you she had been the only daughter of a ruthless oil baron, and that the vampire who turned her attacked her outside a busy social club. The mystery person had taken her wallet, her ruby necklace, and her mortality.

The supernatural has always been…a fascination of yours. Ever since you were a child, werewolves and zombies and things that go bump in the night occupied most of your thoughts. Fallon and her mysterious aura had only magnified your desire to learn more, to store information in your brain to ponder whenever you found yourself staring into space, or on a date with a more boring customer.

You train of thought is thrown off the rails as you hear the sound of her heels once more, entering with her butler in tow. An older New Zealander whose perpetual politeness always has you on the offense, he carries a fanciful charcuterie plate and a scowl. Thinly sliced artisanal meats are folded to resemble flowers, bite-sized cuts of cheese are expertly placed to create spirals of various whites and yellows. Fruits—some you recognize, some you don’t—pepper the board. In the center rests a pitcher, already covered in condensation, and a small glass.

He doesn’t like you very much, you think.

Truthfully, you’re not sure he likes you at all, given he’s never spoken a single word directly to you. You’re just happy he only speaks to Fallon, if you’re being honest. Given his brashness with her, you’re just a little scared of what he’d say to you.

He leaves just as he left—silent, and with a slight scour painted over his face. You watch him as he leaves, his rigid posture and squared shoulders never slumping even as he turns the corner, out of Fallon’s eyeshot. She once told you she had superhuman hearing, and knew where everyone at the house was at all times. You wonder if the butler knows that, or if it’s even true.

“Eat, darling,” Fallon tells you, snapping you back to attention. “I can’t have the company forcing me to pay on that insurance clause.”

You know she would be able to afford it, keeping the company from dumping her as a client. Still, it warms your cheeks just enough to keep you from making a witty remark. Everything melts on your tongue, your heart racing at the taste. That’s another part of the reason you adore when Fallon picks up one of your appointments from you; even though she doesn’t eat much human food ever since she was turned, she only keeps sustenance of the best quality under her roof. She’s buys things not just because they’re expensive, but also because they’re good. You’ve had so many terrible steaks and horrible salads because men with no discernable taste believe them to be some of the best.

As you begin to fill your small plate with bits and pieces from the board, taking sips of cold water between bites, you feel her lean down next to you.

“Let me know when you’re full,” she whispers in your ear once more, pressing her hand between your thighs. “I want you nice and comfortable for the rest of our session.”

[queerpumpkinnn]

Queerpumpkinnn's Sapphic September is coming soon!

Throughout the entire month of September I'm going to be doing some writing for female characters x fem! or gn! reader. While I do love reading and writing for male characters I really don't think there's enough sapphic fanfiction in the world so we're gonna fix that.

The event technically begins September 1st BUT I would love to get some ideas ready now so that I can have stuff to publish from the get-go!

Guidelines: Female characters, that's kind of the whole point. Reader has to be fem! or gn! but that's kind of in my general rules for requesting anyways. It can be smut or fluff, any genre, a poly group, as long as it doesn't violate any of my writing boundaries.

(Female) characters I write for:

Stranger Things: Robin Buckley, Chrissy Cunningham

Marvel: Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff

Criminal Minds: Emily Prentiss

Grishaverse: Inej Ghafa, Nina Zenik, Alina Starkov, Genya Safin

The Vampire Diaries: Katherine Pierce, Lexi Branson

Misc: Fallon Carrington

Keep in mind that as much as I want to fulfill everyone's requests and write as much as I can, I am not obligated to fulfill every request sent in even if it is within my guidelines nor am I required to write full length fics for every single request. Thank you for understanding.

[kiwichaeng]

Okay now that I am done with Dynasty here's a list of all the scenes I spoiled for myself and how

Ander's death. Went through Madison Brown's tiktok and in one of the videos someone had commented something about it

Kirby stealing Fallon's business. Again from Madison Brown's tiktok. She made one with Rafael de la Fuente and someone in the comments had written something like "this was Kirby after stealing Fallon's business"

Steven and Sam's divorce. When I was watching season 1 I saw this YouTube video and the person said smth like "we really thought they'd be endgame" and I was like hold up what

Steven coming back. Gifsets and some fanfiction...

Lauren Carrington. Through gifsets

Fallon getting shot. Through Rafael's tiktok. On one of them someone said they couldn't wait for s5 and see that Fallon was okay. I put two and two together

Amanda and Kirby's relationship. Through gifsets and fanfiction

Amanda and Kirby breaking up. Gifsets and Tumblr posts

Amanda and Kirby getting back together! Gifsets.

I think that's it actually. Whenever I saw a spoiler I just pretended I didn't and went on with my day so...yeah. especially the Sam and Steven's divorce one. Was not ready to believe that. Simply brushed past that. But yeah I knew what I was getting into when I started searching through the dynasty tag on Tumblr and watching YouTube videos about them

[gloxina111]

Black Pearl

-> PAIRING┆Fallon Carrington x Fem! Goth! Reader

-> CAUTION ┆She/Her Pronouns

-> HEADCANON┆What is Fallon like with a goth s/o.

-> WORD COUNT ┆163

::::::::: _-_-_- ::::::::: _-_-_- ::::::::: _-_-_- ::::::::: _-_-_- ::::::::: _-_-_- :::::::::

- Fallon loves your fashion choices all the way. The buckles, platform heels, latex, long black nails she's loving it wall.

- She didn't know she was into women until she saw you in the club wearing a tight black dress. with your tits pocking out.

- The best year if you are a pillow princess, she will be relishing in joy. You look so intimidating until you get to the bedroom where she doms you, hell yeah.

- Fallon would just enjoy you walking around in 9inch heels and a corset.

- If you have a battle jacket don't let her get her hands on it she'll turn it pink, no joke.

- She'll use you as hot goth arm candy, in a respectful way.

- You can not tell me she is not bragging about you because look what she bagged.

- Fallon Carrington is no smip but god damn you can make her fold if you truly wanted to.

- She will treat you like the queen you are.

[nostradamus0]

Fandom: Dynasty Pairing: Fallon Carrington/Liam Ridley Word Count: 3,131 Summary: It’s not as though she’s unaware that ‘fake relationship’ is the oldest cliche there is. And that in the movies (and presumably, books, but Fallon doesn’t read many of those), it always ends with something that wasn’t real turning into something that is. With grand confessions of love and melodramatic pining and longing heart-eyes. It’s more that she’s trying not to think about it.

Fallon and Liam aren’t very good at the ‘fake’ part of their ‘fake relationship.’ AKA, they talk about their feelings.

[mrsfallonridley]

I wrote a thing! Here is a "possible season 4 plot after the Falliam wedding" that includes fluff, hurt/comfort and Falliam cuddles! Beware, it might be an emotional ride!

[simastysims]

SIMASTY Season 1 Episode 4 “The Homecoming”

Originally posted January 2019 on simasty.com

It was finally the morning of the wedding and the Siloli mansion was abuzz with the sound of preparations under way. Whilst Brystle had insisted on a low key wedding, Burke still wanted to ensure that every detail was meticulously carried out. And so as Brystle went down the grand staircase in her silk robe and mule slippers that morning she was a little overwhelmed with all the comings and goings of the servants. Of all the staff at Siloli Brystle felt she had made a connection with Nannette Bobbins, the head of housekeeping. Nannette, unlike the other staff at Siloli, was not hired by the first Mrs Simmington and as such had no allegiance to her or the rules she had put in place. She felt that the other staff, particularly Joseph and Mrs Bummerson, were unjustly making things hard for Brystle. Nannette had made her decision to be supportive of the future Mrs Simmington from day one and on this happiest of days she went out of her way to brighten Brystle’s morning. After chatting with Nannette, Brystle returned to her bedroom and got a beautiful surprise as she opened the doors. The room had been totally filled with flowers in the short time she had been gone.

As Brystle took it all in, she was unaware that Burke had crept in the room behind her. He made his presence known by gently kissing her neck. Brystle turned around and gazed at the man she loved.

Burke took Brystle in his arms and pulled her close for a lingering smooch.

Brystle felt more confident than ever in her decision to marry Burke. Last night her telephone conversation with Mayhew was a fading memory. She had made her choice and that choice was to be with Burke. They moved in for one last kiss as boyfriend and girlfriend.

Mayhew had arrived at the hospital to collect his wife Malaudia. She was being released after a prolonged stay in the simitarium. Whilst Mayhew was relieved that his wife was well enough to be leaving the hospital, it was also with a heavy heart for deep down he knew he was no longer in love with his wife. He cared for her deeply and she was the mother of his daughter. But for Mayhew the passion was gone in their marriage for he was in love with Brystle.Mayhew was shown by a friendly nurse to the office of Dr Mick Broscanni, the psymchiatrist who had been treating Malaudia the past year. The two men firmly shook hands as they greeted one another.

Mayhew nodded in acceptance. He could not turn his back on Malaudia at this time. A few moments later Mick showed Mayhew out into the courtyard at the rear of the hospital. Here a lone Malaudia sat taking in the tranquil garden scenery. Mayhew walked over to join his wife.

Mayhew could see how fragile his wife still was. And as he still cared deeply for her he couldn’t let her feel that she was going to be a let down so he tried to lighten the mood.

Mayhew held his wife’s hand as he nodded and looked away from her. Malaudia meanwhile was having serious anxious doubts.

Heathen was dressed in his wedding suit already. He had decided on a fabulous red tuxedo number and hoped his bold choice of colour would not upstage the bride. It would probably infuriate his father but that was his problem not Heathen’s. Besides Heathen was feeling on top of the world right now and he wanted to express himself through his outfits. As he descended the grand staircase Joseph, the major-domo of the house, appeared.

Heathen told Joseph that would not be necessary. Whilst Fred was an unexpected arrival Heathen was glad that he was here. When he had left San Myshuno to return home it had not been on the best of terms with Fred. The pair were lovers and whilst it had only been for a relatively short time it had been intense. When Fred had been persistent in advising Heathen to accept the wedding invitation and to make up with his father, Heathen had got angry and left the city after a blazing row. But now after everything had worked out with his father, for the time being at least, Heathen wanted to tell Fred that he had been right all along in urging Heathen to come home. And so he rushed to the drawing room to greet his lover.

Heathen took Fred by the hand and led him to the sofa where they sat together.

The young men giggled as they got up from the sofa. Both were in a very flirty mood by this stage.  Suddenly Fred took Heathen in his arms and pulled him close for an impromptu kiss that took Heathen by total surprise.

They both came up for air, Heathen’s heart racing. And he knew right there that he was in love with Fred Rimmard. Did Fred feel the same way?

After much passionate smooching, Heathen led Fred out of the drawing room. Joseph was re-arranging some flowers in the hallway when he saw the young Simmington heir take the young man up the grand stairway, no doubt leading him to his boudoir for some raw, passionate woohoo making. There was no doubt about it. Heathen definitely took after his mother when it came to men…

Later that morning young Mimsy Drysdale was spending time with her granny, Mother Drysdale, in the kitchen of their new home. Mimsy loved spending time with her grandmother and vice versa. For Mother Drysdale this past year had been invaluable bonding time with her grand-daughter. It was over this period that the spiteful woman had been poisoning the impressionable young girl’s mind against her mother Malaudia. Mother Drysdale was confident that young Mimsy would totally shun her mother and hopefully that would be instrumental in sending Malaudia back to the simitarium. If not, Mother had a few tricks up her sleeve. But for now she was enjoying watching her grand-daughter wash up in the kitchen.

The vindictive old woman loved her nectar and would drink a bottle a day. So what if it was only noon now and she was already on her 3rd glass? Mimsy wouldn’t tell on her. Mother had seen to that with her emotional blackmail – if Mimsy ever told on granny then she would have to go away and Mimsy would be left all alone and she wouldn’t want that would she? Mimsy was quite joyful today and suddenly mentioned her mother for the first time in weeks.

Any mention of Malaudia from Mimsy was shot down quite quickly. Mother would not allow any form of an attachment to commence. It was then they heard Mayhew’s car pull up into the drive. Mimsy quickly ran into the hall. Outside Mayhew and Malaudia approached the front door. Malaudia paused and took in the building for it was a home she did not know.

Once inside Mimsy rushed to hug her father but did not say anything to Malaudia. As her daughter hugged Mayhew, Malaudia took in her surroundings. Mother Drysdale approached them from the kitchen.

Mayhew saw that Mimsy’s indifference and comment had stung Malaudia and he tried to reassure her as Mimsy babbled on.

Malaudia nodded and continued to look around. Mayhew looked at his mother and shook his head for he didn’t know what else to say. Mother Drysdale was not one lost for words.

Mother Drysdale then turned to Malaudia and did what she did best – continuing to be a two faced witch to her daughter-in-law.

As soon as her family were out if sight in the living room the fake smile vanished from the unforgiving old woman’s face.

The wedding was just an hour away and some guests were arriving. Per Brystle’s request, the wedding had been kept quite low key. Guests were kept to a bare minimum. No magazine photospread of the nuptials. In fact, a sizeable donation to a charity of Brystle’s choice, The Foundation for Underachieving Children, Kids Or Famished Families, was made instead.However there were a few guests Burke had deemed a necessity to come. Such as the Flump couple, Ronald and Salamia. Ronald was the Mayor of the city and considered himself to be of vast importance. Burke normally couldn’t stand the man but Ronald, through his political connections, had been instrumental in securing the contracts in the South Shang Simla Sea Leases . This was a multi-billion deal between Burke’s company and the Shang Simla government that allowed the tankers of WindenburgSimmington to pass through the busy trading route of the ocean that was part of Shang Simla. Of course Ronald, being a corrupt businessman as well as a so called politician had pocketed quite a few Simoleons himself through the deal, a fact he liked to brag about.

Burke smiled and looked over at the silent Salamia. She was completely vacant. How could anyone compare her to his sweet Brystle? Just then Burke caught sight of his son coming down the stairs with a young man Burke was unfamiliar with. Burke made a mental note to question Heathen later about who this young man was. Heathen meanwhile caught sight of the notorious Flumps and nudged Fred to tell them who they were. Fred, who was now dressed in a spare suit of Heathen’s snorted with laughter at what Heathen was whispering to him. Burke turned his attention back to Ronald who was continuing to boast and brag about himself.

As Ronald continued talking himself up and Salamia clapped her hands in glee as the money rained down on the floor, Heathen couldn’t help point out to Fred through hushed giggling about the inadequate size of Ronald’s lower extremities.

As the Flumps were arriving, Fathom was wandering the house feeling bored. She had dressed for the wedding even though she had knowledge, through overhearing a telephone conversation the previous evening, that could potentially cause the cancelation of the whole thing. For now Fathom had not decided what she would do with that knowledge and instead had been drawn to the kitchen’s of Siloli mansion and the wonderful smells of Mrs Bummerson’s baking.

With one quick swoop Fathom cut herself a large piece of cake. She was about to leave when she looked at the wedding topper again. The 2 intertwined hearts and what they symbolized infuriated her knowing what she did. Fathom took the topper of the cake and shoved it entirely into her mouth before taking her cake and eating it.

Meanwhile upstairs Brystle, with the help of Nanette, had finished getting ready for her pending nuptials to Burke. She was feeling both excited and nervous at the same time. Her wedding hour was finally upon her.

Nanette followed Brystle as she took a seat on the couch. Brystle kept crossing her legs and tapping her fingers. She was clearly nervous so Nanette tried her best to keep her mind focused.

Brystle stood up and grabbed her phone from the dressing table. She realised there was a call she had to make. Without waiting for Nanette to leave the room she dialled the number she thought she would never call again.

Meanwhile downstairs, Joseph had discovered the half eaten wedding cake in the kitchen. With only moments to go before the wedding he had to break the bad news to Mrs Bummerson.

Joseph remained stern and Mrs Bummerson knew this was no prank. The full horror of what had happened quickly descended upon her…

Will Mrs Bummerson get to make another cake on time? Was Nanette being sincere about not being jealous at all? Why are Ronald’s feet so small? And what will Mother Drysdale do next to poor Malaudia? Tune in for the next episode where some of these questions may get answered….

[phantomstatistician]

Fandom: Dynasty

Sample Size: 144 stories

[dabiensworld]

Falliam Frenzy Week 3

“Alison called.” Fallon heard Liam’s voice from their bedroom. It was almost 11 pm and no one should have called on that late hour, but it didn’t apply assistant. Day before their huge event. Fallon Unlimited Magazine premiere. It was actually Fallon’s event, she was the owner of the brand, but deep inside Fallon felt she couldn’t do it without Liam’s help and journal’s experience.

“What did she want?” not that she cared about it right now. All she wanted right now is ending her night routine and laid next to Liam in their bed.

“ She called to inform you that Hot Tea Atlanta confirmed their participation in the event.”

“ Of course they did. That vultures never miss any opportunities.” Fallon said to herself and left her bathroom. As she walked toward the bedroom, she looked in the mirror. Last days were full of work but she found some time to go on a little shopping and now she was wearing one of her booty - short red lace nighty. She wanted to reward Liam her lack of time for him.

“ So what do you think? “ Fallon took a sexy pose leaning on the door frame. Liam was laying in their bed, working on his iPad. He raised his head and looked at Fallon from under his glasses. God he was so hot in the glasses.

“ You should wear something warmer. It’s December, very easy to catch a cold. “ Liam came back to his work.

“ Seriously?! Don’t you enjoy the view?”

“ It doesn’t matter if I’m enjoying the view or not. It cold outside and no one wants you to snot tomorrow during the speech. “ this time Liam didn’t even look at her. Fallon gave up and sat on the bed. She fixed her pillow and laid under the cover. Lying on her side, Fallon began to stroke Liam's shoulder. She was horny and thirsty for some fun and but he pretended that he didn’t see her intention. He didn’t stop reading some files.

“ I know that man’s brain is complicated machine but you have to see how much I want to have sex with you right now.” Fallon didn’t try to hide her irritation.

“ I can see it.” how he dared to be so insensitive to her needs.

“ Oh you’re a prick.” Fallon laid on her back and crossed her arms.

“ Am I a prick? Babe I just want you to remember we have to get up early tomorrow and you need to be rested and fresh. “ Liam took off his glasses and put them and an iPad on the bedside cabinet.

“ I don’t see any reason why sex would make me not fresh and rested tomorrow. I know it could last hours when it comes to us, but we can be quick if we want to. “ Liam still looked so unconvinced.

“ Is it your revenge for the times when I was keeping you at a distance? “

“ You know me. I don’t do revenge. I just think we should wait with celebrating till tomorrow. Just get some rest Fallon, you worked so hard for the last few days.” Liam kissed Fallon cheek and turned his back on her.

“ Fine, goodnight Liam. “ Fallon covered herself more tightly. The atmosphere in the room became cold. Then Fallon her Liam’s laugh.

“ Why are you laughing dumbass?” she hit him and sat on the bed offended.

“ What happened to my Fallon? My Fallon wouldn’t give up so fast. “ he turned to her and put his arm around her.

“ You.. prick... you played... with me.” Fallon said between the kisses Liam gave her.

“ Sometimes I want to be the one who keeps you on your toes”

[awesomesaucerica]

Falliam Frenzy Fic Week 1!

I haven’t written anything in a while but Fallon and Liam made me do it.

Thank you to @ladysantebellum and @fallonsliam for organizing this whole thing! Can’t wait to see what you guys will come up with over the next few weeks.

December 8th - December 14th

“Please stay.” or “What are you afraid of?”

AU in which Fallon intentionally stepped out of Liam’s life

One way or another, you knew you were going to see him again eventually. It will never be a question of if and you’re sure, one way or another, it will hurt like a bitch.

Your circle is small. There would always be a business partner who has a friend who has a private wine tasting event at her vineyard or a friend of a friend who was hosting a charity event for some random cause.

This time, it was someone’s son who—despite not having an ounce of artistic talent—has a stupid art gallery opening. It was one of the most mind numbing events you’ve been to in a while and really, that was saying something.

You find yourself having conversations you would definitely forget the second it comes out of your mouth.

You find yourself drinking all the champagne and cocktails of the passing servers.

You find yourself wandering around aimlessly, not really looking at anything because it was all so stupid until you find the double door opening out onto the balcony. A little drunk and without a care in the world, you push open the doors and exhale deeply, finally.

God, how long have you been holding that in? You hear in his voice.

You sigh again as you feel the tears starting to build up at the back of your eyeballs, your never ending headache flares up.

“No,” you say adamantly to your tear ducts. “Stop it, don’t you do it!”

“I’m not exactly sure what you want me to stop doing…” Your heart stops, the booze in your system drains out of your body as quickly as you’ve drank it. This really isn’t happening right now.

“I’m pretty sure it is though.” You face him, not caring that you actually said the last part out loud, and see that he’s smirking.

For a split second, you see recognition enter his eyes and your blood soars up to your head. Your heart pounds in your chest and that feeling that has been absent for the past few months hits you in full force. Hope.

“Fallon?”

“Liam.”

“How—how are you?”

How am I? You think incredulously. Well, the last time I slept soundly was when you were beside me so you can only imagine how bitchy I’ve been. You would be so proud though, I exercise now because if I can’t sleep, I need to release all this pent up energy. Sam calls it anger. At the world. At you, even. Oh and yeah, it was my brother who almost killed you so I left you without saying anything. So when I lay on the bed at night—not sleeping and without you beside me—I think this is all okay because you’re safe and out of the hell I’ve put you through.

“I’m great! Sleeping well, 8 hours of sleep and all that.”

“That’s… good to hear,” he smiles.

An eternity passes on this random balcony. You can hear the people from the gallery still chatting away but you don’t think about that now or anything at all. Everything becomes muted. Your sole focus is him, zeroed in on his face.

He looks away and you know your staring affected him. You don’t care though because this might be the last time you’ll see him this close for a while so you’re going to take everything you can get.

“Okay. I’ll get going then,” he started, ready to turn his body away. Maybe forever.

“No,” you say breathlessly. “Please stay.”

He stops and after a sigh, gives you his shy smile. He stands rooted in his place and the world quiets down further. It’s only the two of you again, in your own little bubble.

“Look, Fallon. I never really thanked you for visiting me at the hospital.”

“Don’t mention it,” you say. Really, please don’t mention it.

“I know we didn’t end in good terms. I mean I’m assuming since we got divorced and all but I’d really like to know more about that time. I still don’t remember much.”

“I don’t think that’s good idea,” you say softly.

“Oh.”

“It’s just—what’s the use of dredging up bad memories, right?”

“Was I that bad of a husband?” He self-deprecates. You can see in his eyes that it’s bothering him that he was a bad husband to you and if there was one thing you can’t stand, it’s seeing that.

“No, you were the best,” you sigh, resigning yourself. You gesture to the bench behind him and say the words you never thought you’d ever get the chance to: “What would you like to know?”

[discreetkitty]

Old Footage Of Liz Enjoying Avan

That smile! Ariana’s “Thank You, Next” has me all nostalgic.

I actually wrote a fanfic that is set in the episode of the gif. Feel free to read it and tell me what you think.

_______________________________

The Do-Over

Set in S4 E8. Beck knew he made a mistake when he let Jade plan their "first official" night together. Beck isn't sure if he can handle what Jade's has in store but he wants to give Jade the best night of her life. But will Beck's curiosity about Jade's past relationship with Tori get in the way of the evening?

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13245666

FF.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12733879/1/The-Do-Over

[peachyteabuck]

caught a vibe

summary: you and fallon have dinner, it does not end as how you expected

commissioned by anonymous

pairing: fallon carrington x reader

words: 1,156

content warnings: stepcest, car sex, fingering, nipple play, manipulation, drinking (reader is tipsy), orgasm denial, grinding

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

Fallon is a simple woman. She likes warmed Croissants that melt in her mouth and warm summer days, and the way a perfectly designed dress falls on her curves. Most importantly, though, she likes it when a perfectly thought out plan falls just into place. This – blessed be – is one of those times.

Months and months of hard work have culminated perfectly in you in front of her, tipsy from ridiculously expensive wine, staring at Fallon’s red-painted lips at a very public restaurant with the smell of pasta that’s barely touched wafting into her nose. The table they’ve sat in is darkened; the same booth Fallon’s been doing shady deals in since she was in high school. She knows this place like the back of her hand, and you know nothing, and it makes your desperation all the sweeter.

“We should, uh,” you murmur, thoughts scattered like confetti on the floor of a nightclub. You’d had the same number of drinks Fallon had – but you were never good at math and were always drawn to those deceptively “girly” drinks that contained enough alcohol to put down a trucker. “We should, we should go somewhere more private…”

Your mind swims in a euphoric pool, the words just out of the grasp of your hands. You want to speak, scream, do something, but all you can do is close your eyes and hope the woman next to you is willing to show you a minuscule amount of mercy.

Her words cut through the blood that rushes in your ears. “Why don’t we go back to my place?”

If anyone else had asked, you’re pretty sure it would’ve sounded like a question. With her, though, it’s a statement, or more accurately a challenge – one you have no choice but to accept.

“O-okay,” you all but whisper. It comes out as quiet as can be, but Fallon – as always – is one step ahead of you, throwing a wad of hundreds on the table and calmly leading you out of the ridiculously expensive restaurant. After a series of events you can’t quite decipher, you find yourself in the back of Fallon’s expensive car, the partition rolled up, and soft music playing so low you can barely hear it.

Most importantly, though, you’ve got the straps of your dress falling down your shoulders as Fallon pulls you closer, eliciting a small giggle that’s followed by an equally tiny gasp. “F-Fallon, we can’t do this…”

The woman in question just smiles, pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth as she pulls you close to her. Instead of saying anything in return she merely drags her sharp nails over your breasts, her sinister smile deepening when you begin to gasp softly.

“You’re such a pretty little thing,” Fallon whispers, grinning as she feels you tighten around her. “Aw, you like that don��t you?”

Yes, is all you can think. Yes, fuck, I love it so much, please don’t stop.

The woman on top of you smiles wider. “I knew from when I met you that you would be one of those good little girls who would do anything for whoever so much as smiled down at them, who would do anything for some praise…”

A small voice in your brain screams, attempting to wretch yourself back into reality. Tell her no! It shrieks, hitting against the sides of your skull as you look up at her. Tell her to leave you alone! To fuck off! She’s got enough power and money to bury you, both literally and figuratively. One wrong move and you’ll never be heard from again. You’re so stupid – get the fuck out of there!

“Don’t even worry about it, baby,” Fallon’s whispers break through your meager defenses, her hand moving lower and lower, thumbing at the edge of your short, navy-blue cocktail dress. She’d bought it for you as an apology gift – when you first met her and explained how you were the result of a short, emotionally unfulfilling affair between your mother and her father, who had paid for your computer science degree and gotten you your job at the high-end tech firm you had been at since graduation. Fallon, in turn, had thrown an entire bottle of expensive champagne at your head. Luckily, she had missed, breaking through one of the French doors instead. Regardless of your physically unscathed state, the next day you found a package at your shitty apartment’s doorstep, containing a card with a succinct apology, this dress, and a few pairs of shoes. “Don’t even worry, I’ll take care of everything.”

Your skin feels both fire hot and ice-cold as her nimble fingers move under the dress she’d bought you, rubbing lightly over your black panties.

“Such a cute little thing,” she mumbles – seemingly to herself – before pressing down on your clit with her palm. Your breathy gasps and whimpers fuel her forward, crashing her lips into yours. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

It’s not long before she can’t help it anymore, before Fallon’s nimble fingers are breaching the territory of your most expensive pairs of panties and feeling how soaked you are. Easily, two fingers are slipped into you, crooking in the perfect way that makes you cry out.

Fallon moans into your mouth as your pussy tightens around her fingers. It’s not enough – it’s not enough! – and you’re desperate for more stuffed inside of you.

She laughs at how pathetic you are, at the sight of you trying to fuck your hips back down on her fingers. She can feel her own wetness soak her panties as she imagines her doing the same on one of those straps she bought but had never gotten to use. Fallon wishes the both of you weren’t in such a cramped space, wishes she could spread you out and tie you down and make you come until you’re sobbing. She knows you’re inexperienced (you’re chatty when you’re drunk), and all she’s been thinking about for weeks is how amazing it would be to fold you into the fantasies she’s had for ages but had never found someone to help fulfill them. You’re perfect, a moldable little doll for her to pose and bend and string up whatever way she pleases.

She just needs you to keep being good.

“Don’t come yet,” Fallon tells you, her voice stern. “I don’t want you to come yet, I only want that to happen when I’ve got you to myself.”

Confused, but too far gone to protest or form a coherent rebuttal, you nod pathetically as you continue to grind. Your head swims, your vision blurs, and you’re sure you must look like such a fucking mess. Still, you keep going, until Fallon pulls away entirely, towering above you in your disheveled state.

“Now would you look at that, darling,” she tells you, smirking. It’s then that you realize the town car had come to a complete stop. “We’re here…”

[queerpumpkinnn]

Hey, I’m not sure if you do requests between two different characters or just y/n and a character but if you do, I would like to request a Kirby anders/Fallon carrington coffee shop au fic where Fallon works at a shop and kirby comes in, and becomes a bit obsessed with Fallon, then dumbifys her, and then smut(if you don’t enjoy writing kirby anders you could make it fem-reader) also I love your writing have a wonderful day<333

First of all, thank you so much for requesting! A few things regarding your request. I did state in my rules for requesting that I only write character(s) x reader, and that I don't write sex at first sight scenes (also I personally find Kirby annoying so I don't write for her lol). I did use Fallon x fem!reader coffee shop au though, so I hope you like it!

All Hot and Bothered

0.6k words

Summary: You visit your girlfriend Fallon at work and get her all hot and bothered.

Pairing: Fallon Carrington x fem!reader

Content warnings: Mention of food and drink (non-alcoholic), slight sexual innuendos. Will I make a part two? Maybe someday ;)

~

Would you normally get coffee from a shop that isn't on the way to work?

No.

Are you doing it this time?

Yes.

Why?

Because the one out of the way happens to be the one your girlfriend works at. And since she's your girlfriend, it is your sacred duty and God-given right to tease the living hell out of her whenever you please- and you so please today.

Naturally, Fallon's deep appreciation for your body is present regardless of your attire, but in her opinion, the human body looks best when it's naked. You kept that in mind as your clothing. Shorts a little shorter, tank top a little tighter and lower cut. Of course you'd simply blame it on the weather.

As you sat in your car in the parking spot collecting your belongings, you glanced through the glass walls of the shop. You could just barely make out the shape of her standing behind the counter. She hadn't noticed you, at least not that you could tell.

With a sly smile tugging your cheeks at the thought of how your girlfriend would react, you stepped out of the car and into the shop, headed immediately towards the register.

There were two or three people ahead of you in line, which meant Fallon had enough time to notice you walking in, take a good look at you, and watch you step behind the other people to wait to order. You loved giving her a little time to sweat.

By the time it was your turn to order, Fallon was already visibly distracted. And I haven't even spoken yet.

You placed both hands on the counter, leaning forward ever so slightly. You stood a little taller so that you would be standing over her if not for the counter. Just waiting for her to say something.

"Hi, welcome to Femperial Coffeehouse, what can I get started for you?"

The reaction wasn't entirely what you had expected, but upon further inspection, you could see how affected she was. The intense focus of her eyes on the computer even though you hadn't placed an order so as to avoid blatantly admiring your body.

"I'll have an iced white mocha and a strawberry scone, please." You told her sweetly, staring at her through bedroom eyes.

Fallon cleared her throat, typing into the computer and forcing a customer service smile. "Of course. What's the name for your order?"

She walked right into that one. "Don't give me that. You know what my name is."

This was, of course, a reference to a name she only called you under a specific circumstance. You knew she was thinking about it as you watched her type a bit more. Fallon handed you a receipt.

"Thank you, sweetheart." You smiled at her, winking and taking the paper bag and small slip of paper from her fingers, sauntering away to a table to wait for your drink.

As you watched Fallon take more orders and frequently glancing over at you for a split second, you realized something. You didn't ask for a receipt. You glanced down at the paper and saw a note scratched out in delicate writing with faded black ink.

Next time you do that I'm dragging you in back.

You couldn't help the grin creeping on your face as you drug the pad of your thumb over the letters.

Well then I'll just have to do that again, now won't I?

~

Fallon Carrington Masterlist

Misc. Characters Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[falliamfanficarchive]

Title: My Recitation of Your Sins 

Author: LNHWrites on fanfiction.net

Rating: T

Word Count:  59 244 {work in progress}

Summary:  [Fallon x Liam AU inspired by recent Reboot (CW) events.] When Culhane takes on a supervisory role at Carrington Atlantic, Fallon is convinced that he's working to destroy her family's name and legacy. More surprising than that, however, is the fact that she has to team up with Liam in order to stop him. [ft. Ada, Kirby, & the Carrington fam]

[queerpumpkinnn]

Wanting to do Kinktober this year, send me ideas so I can plan <3

[nostradamus0]

Fandom: Dynasty Pairing: Fallon Carrington/Liam Ridley Word Count: 3,951 Summary: Liam wants Fallon to be his soulmate like he has never wanted anything before. He just wants her to smile at him again like she did in the warm glow of the hallway that night, her green dress and bright eyes glittering under the dim lights. When he said “I see you, Fallon Carrington,” and she looked at him like he was something of wonder and kissed him just the same way.

Fallon has always loved her soulmark; Liam has always been terrified of his.