#note: white musk

[cleolinda]

This does not spark Joy (Dior, 2018 & 2019)

PREVIOUSLY ON: Jean Patou's Joy (1930) was voted the Scent of the Century, but for some mysterious reason, it's not manufactured anymore.

Dior fucking killed Joy.

I won't bury the lede here at all. It was Dior. And I love a good Dior, don't get me wrong. But in August 2018, LVMH Moët Hennessy Louis Vuitton (which owns every damn thing, including Sephora and half the brands in it) bought the Jean Patou company (which had already changed hands twice). More importantly, they bought the name "Joy." And, somehow, their subsidiary Parfums Christian Dior had their own Joy, complete with Jennifer Lawrence ad campaign, ready to release two weeks later.

For a while, Designer Parfums was at least allowed to manufacture and sell Jean Patou's Joy in France. But now, according to the Patou website, the company's fragrances "are no longer in production." When "authorized outlets" run out, they're out. Because apparently, it was that important for Dior to keep anyone else from using the name "Joy."

So what did they replace the Scent of the Century with?

I had heard that Joy by Dior Intense was a huge improvement on the initial Joy by Dior (which infuriated fragrance aficionados itself by existing, clearly), and I'm glad I tried it first, because if I had started with the original ("original") Dior, I would have punched a wall. But let's start with that: I kept trying Dior Joy #1 over and over because I couldn't remember what it smelled like. It is literally, in the literal sense of literally, forgettable. I tried it one more time today in order to write this paragraph, and: it's soapy white musk. Which upset me initially, I remember now, because I'm just really not a fan of soapy/laundry white musk, but that's on me; I've seen user reviews that do really like Joy by Dior. On me, it's just bubblebath froth, eventually a sweet citrus that peeks up from under it, and a drydown that adds some vanilla to that. That's joyous, I guess?

What I will say is, unlike the other perfume that made me think of bubble baths, it didn't give me a panic attack, so it's got one up on Chanel. But it's just... was this necessary? Did we not have enough soapy white citrus-vanilla musks in the world? At the time, I was just asking myself this rhetorically, but then I kept reading up on the Dior Joy(s). As Victoria at Bois de Jasmin points out, the actual fragrance is a copy of yet another perfume:

The result is that Dior Joy is Allure Lite. The rose and jasmine are folded into a sandalwood accord reminiscent of Chanel’s fragrance. From the top notes to the drydown, Joy follows the course of Allure, but in a softer, more transparent interpretation. The mandarin peel dusted with sugar, the rose blended with the lemony jasmine, a touch of apricot and orange blossom that melt into the sandalwood and custard-like vanilla. Even the same contrast between the sweet citrus and creamy woods is maintained.

Mark Behnke at Colognoisseur:

[Dior perfumer François Demachy] chose to create a mash-up of two huge best-sellers. The citrus opening is straight out of Chanel Allure and the floral heart is Dior J'Adore. In other words, it is just a re-tread.

DIOR! WHAT ARE YOU FUCKING DOING!

I won't say that Joy Intense (Dior #2) is more like Jean Patou's, but at least it has less of a soapy musk opening. Let's compare the notes:

Joy by Dior (2018): White musk, Grasse rose, Grasse jasmine, mandarin orange, patchouli, bergamot, cedar, sandalwood.

Joy by Dior Intense (2019): Neroli, bergamot, Grasse jasmine, Grasse rose, vanilla, patchouli, musk, sandalwood.

[Note: Grasse, "the perfume capital of the world," is a region in France famous for its role in the history of French perfume; it is especially known for jasmine and roses. "Grasse rose," "May rose," and "Rose de Mai" all refer to Rosa x centifolia. "Grasse jasmine" is Jasminum grandiflorum, as opposed to, say, the licorice-friendly jasmine sambac.]

Further info from dior.com:

Get the absolute fuck out of here with this BOTTLE and this LOGO, what are you even doing. I did not even know a perfume could eat crackers

Joy by Dior, per the official website:

JOY by Dior Eau de Parfum is a bright smile, and a pure concentration of joy in a bottle. A juicy, vibrant top note gives way to an enveloping white heart of flowers and musks, just like a soft caress.

Again, I hated Dior's first Joy when I first put it on, but that's my own bias. It was just sheer disappointment that they centered this on synthetic white musk—you vaulted the Scent of the Century for this?

The "Intense" version:

Oh well if there’s a star on the bottom I guess I’m not mad anymore??

JOY by Dior Eau de Parfum Intense is a new olfactory burst, a scent of joy wherein flowers celebrate and explode in all their faceted beauty. The dazzling light of the juicy Citrus blends with the colorful shine of Rose and Grasse Jasmine, and is heightened by an enveloping woody echo of Sandalwood tinged with Vanilla. The fragrance results in a floral firework.

Fuck the actual fuck outta here. "Firework" my ass. It's fine, I guess. It smells like vanilla lemonade and some jasmine on me, with a pleasant lingering drydown. Not just the smell of lemonade, but sort of the feeling of happiness you get when drinking a sugary glass of it on a hot summer day. Don't ever say I don't try to be fair. And it's 1000% better without the white musk. I honestly wouldn't mind wearing this under a different name, but it's just so adequate. I put on Jean Patou's Joy, even a diminished Joy, and it was a revelation. I put on the Dior, even the "good" version, and it smells like copying what the popular girls wear in hopes that they’ll like you. Thank God they didn't stuff some Ambroxan in there while they were at it. The only reason Dior didn't dupe some trendy note from Baccarat Rouge 540 is because Francis Kurkdjian didn't work for them yet. What the fuck are you people doing.

Back to Colognoisseur:

[It] is puzzling why Dior would make the decision to produce a new perfume with the same name of a masterpiece. The cynic in me says because they’ve unleashed their market research staff and found out most consumers have no idea there is a previous classic perfume called Joy. [...] Joy by Dior is a good perfume put together via the perfume assembly line of focus groups and market research; as cynical as it gets in other words.

This is absolutely my take as well. I wore Jean Patou on one hand and Dior's Joy Intense on the other and compared how they unfolded in real time, and what struck me most at that point was how gourmand-adjacent the Dior is. Not entirely so, but the vanilla lemonade I get is far more in line with the cupcake and burnt sugar notes (WHICH I LIKE!) that fragrance brands have put in everything since Mugler’s Angel, rather than just let a floral be good—superlative—at being a floral. But the marketing department says that the Costliest Perfume in the World isn’t on trend in the 21st century; we can charge plenty for something simpler, more predictable, more pandering.

My other take is that Dior's Joy perfumes are formulated to inevitably be cheaper than Jean Patou's Joy, even what Joy was at the end of the company's life. I have smelled at least a Platonic shadow of the Costliest Perfume in the World, and (I don't care how much Grasse jasmine Dior claims is in theirs) this ain't it. I don't blame François Demachy; he was given a brief and he did his job. The man made not one but two versions of Hypnotic Poison. He has done more interesting things than this. Dior’s Joy has "cash grab" written all over it and it's not even bad. It's just WHY. Why would you DO THIS. I am going to stay mad and die mad about this. Jesus Christ. You can't even, like, gently reformulate the Jean Patou, put out the Demachy versions as flanker fragrances, and market them all? You have four kinds of Poison RIGHT NOW and you can’t figure this out?

And I wore these three perfumes for three weeks, I want you to know that. I alternated them day by day, sometimes wearing two at a time to compare. I gave them all many, many chances. And besides the fact that I personally don't like white musk very much, the two Dior Joys are not bad. They're not! They're just accessories to a minor act of cultural vandalism, is all. Imagine taking Botticelli's The Birth of Venus and saying, we're going to throw this out so we can have a photographer recreate it with Jennifer Lawrence. Everyone's wearing Dior Spring/Summer 2023 designs (including Venus). It actually looks pretty cool, I guess. Great, so we don't need the Botticelli anymore? When does the trash get picked up, Tuesday?

Even Disney doesn't vault its animated movies anymore after it remakes them as live action. Maybe I can scrape up enough couch change to buy a bottle of Real Actual Joy and some DVDs before anyone else gets some big ideas.

Perfume discussion masterpost

[sabersplit]

Roses Vanille - Mancera

Top notes

Lemon

Water notes

Mid notes

Rose

Sugar

Base notes

Vanilla

Sugar

White musk

Cedar

[steaksex]

Important for you all to visualize: ive been working with powertools and saws and shit in my garage and im in a tanktop and im all sweaty and its hot as fuck but also know this: im not good at thia shit i learned how to use a drill and a dremel and shit when i was like 10 but ive lost all those skills so i was just fucking failing the whole time and ultimately accomplished nothing. But i am still hot and sweaty and its sexy as fuck know that

[tojicide]

⠀⠀ BOO! ☆ SYLUS QIN.

summary. the ruby wedding ring your ex-husband gave you should hold no meaning by now, so that was why you wore it on halloween night as an accessory to your costume. it shouldn’t be a big deal… right?

warnings. fem!reader. smut, established history, pet names, jealous!sylus, mutual degradation, spitting, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), p in v sex against a wall

note. okay, yeah, i have a thing for ex!sylus. and ex!sylus dressed up as a boxer for halloween? umm i’m scared where did my clothes go?!?!?

wc. 3.2k

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⟡ masterlist | request

Dressing up as a vampire was a stroke of genius if you do say so yourself.

A black floor length dress with a mighty high leg slit with your makeup done to the nines…

After being showered with compliments and approached by men who fawned over you like their lives depended on it, you were almost inclined to believe that being this sexy should be punishable by law.

Luckily for you, it isn’t, and that’s exactly why you’re a free woman who is able to enjoy this wonderful Halloween night.

Strobe lights fan over the sea of people you’re currently floating in, the smell of alcohol and the musk of sweat and cologne swarming you entirely. Music blared over loud speakers, rendering you practically deaf to your surroundings, and perhaps that was why you hadn’t noticed your ex-husband approach you from behind.

“Boo,” he purrs into your ear as he dips his head just enough for his deep voice to be heard, his large hand snaking around your waist to spin you around.

Your smile immediately falters upon seeing the white-haired man who seems to make it his life goal to ruin any ounce of fun that you have without him. “Sylus,” you deadpan.

“Why, excuse me,” he replies through a dark chuckle. “I had no idea we were going to be so brash. Had I known,” he raises his hand to twirl a strand of your hair around his finger, “I would have tugged on these pretty locks of yours to get your attention instead.”

You raise your hand to pull his hand away from your hair, and that’s the moment when he sees it.

(Your ring. He’d recognize it anywhere, of course, he had it designed just for you.)

Sylus takes your hand in his, brushing his thumb over the garnet jewel that you loved so much. “Hm. What’s this?”

You hate how easy it is for him to pick up on such minuscule details about you. It makes you feel flattered, which is absolutely disgusting. You don’t want to feel flattered, not by your ex-husband of all people.

“A ring,” you reply, sliding your hand from his grasp. “An accessory to my costume.”

Sylus shortly hums, his red eyes giving you a once over as he pokes his tongue into his cheek. “Is it necessary to wear it on that finger in particular? You know the implications of such a thing.”

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s just a ring. It hardly means anything anymore.”

He bristles at that, raising a brow at you. It stung to hear, but he knew that you didn’t mean it. You knew how he was when it came to things of sentimental value—nothing ever lost its touch with him, especially when it came to you.

“Oh, how quickly you dismiss our love. Such a cruel woman you are,” he says, his voice dropping in octave as a smirk tugs on the corner of his lips.

“Cruel?” you repeat with a scoff. “Please.”

“Cruel indeed,” he insists, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back as he lures you closer to him. Perhaps he should have dressed as the vampire with his red, hypnotic eyes and all, but instead, he dressed as a boxer. “Although, I can’t say I dislike the idea of you parading around in my ring. Wards off the men.”

You can’t help snort at that. “Oh, right, because something as trivial as a ring would deter a man from a face as beautiful as this,” you muse, raising your hand to place a few smacks on his cheek. “In your dreams.”

Sylus chuckles darkly at that. He should’ve known you and your sharp tongue wouldn’t be able to resist chuckling a few jabs his way. “I see you in my dreams as is, sweetie. I don’t need the sentiment.”

You scoff. “What you need to do is get a grip. I don’t know if you’ve lost your mind, but we are divorced. D-i-v-o-r-c-e-d. Divorced. Do you know what that means?”

That word hardly meant anything to him. He still wore his wedding ring and addressed you as his wife. He did it shamelessly.

“Such nasty words from such a pretty mouth,” he says through a sigh. “And no, I don’t know what that means. Pray tell.”

“It means that we leave each other alone,” you’re quick to reply. “I don’t want you anymore, Sylus.”

Sylus doesn’t like that idea, not one bit. He doesn’t care if he sounds like a broken record, but he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you alone. Perhaps he enjoyed pestering you, watching as that cute expression of annoyance etched across your face every time you ran into one another.

“You’re so pretty when you lie,” he murmurs.

You shortly hum. “You’d be prettier if you knew how to shut up.”

Sylus feigns offense, placing his hand over his chest. “You wound me.”

But he does take notice of the fact that you hadn’t denied his words. If anything, it stirs something within him. He isn’t sure what it is exactly, and before he can figure it out, you’re already walking away.

“Sweetie—”

“Don’t call me that,” you reply. His call out to you doesn’t deter you from your path, and before long, you’re already swimming in a sea of men who look like they want to devour you.

Sylus can’t blame them for their incredibly good taste in women, but what he can blame them for is their attraction to his wife.

He tries to obey your wishes, and he leaves you alone for a good… seven and a half minutes. And yes, he’s been counting, because each second that passes where you give another man your undivided attention is a second that he wants cut off from his lifespan.

He does his best, truly, he does. He even sent Luke and Kieran to fetch him a drink. He’s… partying. Yay.

It’s no use, though. Nothing could ever distract him from your presence. Hearing your laugh from across the room is like music to his ears, his favorite song that he cannot bear to part with.

But suddenly, everything shifts.

You’re… holding hands with another man. Not just any hand either.

And when you turn to make eye contact with Sylus, he’s already well on his way to you by the time that bastard’s lips lean in to press a kiss on your left hand, just below his ring.

You’re thrown over his shoulder before you have a say in the matter, and his stiffened arm gets sent into the strange man’s chest. He hadn’t meant to push him very hard, but evidently, his jealousy piqued the moment his hand made contact with him.

“There you are, my gorgeous wife,” he quips, laying a playful smack on your ass.

“Jesus, Sylus! What the—” you exclaim, watching as the man you were talking to falls to the ground.

Before you know it, you’re being carried into the bathroom and spun around, your front facing the mirror while he presses against you from behind.

You really shouldn’t be turned on by this, but you honestly can’t help yourself.

“My, my, sweetie, I knew you were a liar, but I didn’t take you for a whore too,” he says, his voice low and almost rasped. “Nearly allowing another man to kiss the hand I’ve claimed? Tsk tsk.”

You roll your eyes at him, but that only earns you another smack on your ass. It was firmer that time, too.

“You know, you don’t have to have a dick measuring competition with every man I talk to all because of a ring,” you huff, planting your palms on the bathroom counter.

Sylus chuckles at that, his hands sliding over your hips before he splays his palm on the curve of your back, forcefully pushing you over the counter. “Please, you know there isn’t any competition there.”

You hate it when he’s right, and right now, he was definitely correct. You can feel the truth in all of his glory, the outline of his cock pressing against your backside through the fabric of his shorts as he keeps you bent over for him.

You grumble a low, “oh, fuck me,” that you thought went unheard, but you couldn’t have been more wrong.

“I never thought you’d ask,” he says, laying another smack on your reddening ass.

You narrow your eyes at him through the mirror. “You’re an asshole, Sylus.”

He hums, working to bunch your dress up around your hips to give him a nice view of your cherry red asscheek, and God, is it beautiful.

“I’m aware,” he says as if it were the most casual thing in the world. “Such pretty panties. You know these are my favorite, you dirty woman.”

Your eyebrows furrow as he disappears from the mirror’s reflection, and before you can think it over, you feel your lace panties be pulled to the side.

Great. Now he knows you’re a wet mess. Just fucking great.

“You really have some nerve,” you scoff, though there’s hardly any bite to your words.

You feel his large hands spread your cheeks apart, and a gasp leaves you when you feel his tongue dart out to swipe along the crack of your ass.

“Oh, absolutely, know I do,” he murmurs, planting a kiss on your ass cheek. “The nerve I have.”

He dips his head a bit lower, and you’re honestly left stunned as he licks your pussy from behind. He moans into your cunt, bringing his fingers up to swipe along your sopping slit.

And when you glance over your shoulder, you see him suck his two fingers into his mouth. Your eyes widen in genuine surprise, and a huff of laughter leaves your lips.

“Don’t give me that look, baby,” he preens, giving your ass cheek another open-mouthed kiss before he spins you around. He then taps your thigh. “Lift.”

And you do just that, raising your thigh as he lifts you up onto the bathroom counter from his kneeling position on the floor. He drapes your thighs over his shoulders, pressing a kiss to your sensitive skin as he does so.

“You know, your mouth says the most horrible things to me, but your pussy seems to say the exact opposite,” he muses, licking his lips as he gazes up at you. “Always so pretty and wet for me. You sure you don’t want to apologi—”

“Nope,” you’re quick to say, sliding your fingers through his white hair as you push his face into your pussy. “Yeah, just shut up. Perfect.”

His words are swallowed up by your heat, but he doesn’t mind it, not one bit. He closes his eyes as he greedily laps at your cunt, tasting the sweetness that he’s missed far too much. It was so sweet, just like you usually were towards him, but it seems like he’ll have to fuck this attitude out of you before he can see that side of you again.

He doesn’t mind that. More of your smart mouth, more of your pussy… win-win.

By the time he opens his eyes to look up at you again, you can already tell that he’s drunk on you.

“God, you’re so easy, it’s disgusting,” you say through a whine as his tongue curls up and down, stimulating that beautiful pearl between your legs.

Sylus chuckles at that, but he doesn’t let up. His tongue begins to fuck into you now, a groan leaving his mouth as he watches you writhe above him. He’s never seen you look any more beautiful.

(The only exception to that was your wedding day, of course. He wept like a baby at the sight of you.)

He sucks harshly into your clit before he releases it with a pop. “I love it when you’re mean to me, baby. Makes me wanna fuck you so nice, wipe that smug smile right off your face.”

It was true. His cock was rock solid in the confines of his shorts, and even if he wasn’t eating you out like a madman, he’s sure your words would have led to the same fate. He loved it when you dished it back to him because you were just so sexy when you were angry.

You’re quick to shut him up, pushing his face back into your heat, but this time, you’re fucking yourself on his tongue. He doesn’t mind it at all. If anything, he prefers it, because whatever his wife needs, she gets.

“Yeah,” you pant, your head leaning back against the mirror. “Yeah, stop fucking talking.”

Sylus grins against your heat as you make a mess of him—his nose, his mouth, his chin—everything. But he doesn’t give a damn.

He slurps up your slick, drinking it as if he were stranded in the middle of a blazing desert and your pussy was his only means of survival. Though if he were to be honest, he’d just ask you to sit on his face and suffocate him with this sweet cunt of yours if he ever found himself in that dire of a position.

(He’s already made up his mind—that’s how he wants to go out.)

Soon enough, he grasps firmly onto your hips, preventing you from grinding against his tongue.

“Now you’re just being greedy,” he says through a breathless smile, licking his lips. “Wearing your wedding ring, parading around in this beautifully slutty costume of yours, giving your attention to other men. What has gotten into you?”

You whine as he pulls his mouth away from your cunt, but his words give you a much better idea. Your hand is quick to replace his tongue, stimulating your clit while he watches with starry eyes. “Dunno. You can get inside of me right now, though.”

He huffs at that. “Playing with this pretty pussy right in front of my face? Have some class.”

You can’t help but chuckle out loud at that, and he smiles at the sound of your laughter but also at the view of your fingers circling that swollen clit of yours.

“You can talk to me about class when you aren’t kneeling in front of your ex-wife’s pussy like a puppy begging for a treat,” you joke.

Sylus hums at that, spitting onto your cunt to give you a bit more lubricant as you play with yourself. Slowly, he rises to his feet.

“I don’t have to beg for this pussy, baby,” he tells you, “It’s mine, after all.”

“Mm, whatever. Me next.”

And when his eyes meet yours, a wicked grin stretches across his face. You stare at him with your mouth open, you tongue lolled out between your lips, begging for him to spit in your mouth.

“You’re filthy,” he rasps, grasping onto your jaw to tilt your head at the perfect angle before he spits into your mouth, watching with hazy eyes as you swallow it. “Absolutely nasty. You’re so beautiful, baby.”

His degrading and his praise are a dangerous mixture for you, but you’re loving every second of it. This reminds you of the good times you two shared, and you feel a surge of nostalgia wash over you.

Sylus taps the sides of your thighs, and you wrap them around his waist without question. He lifts you up from the bathroom counter, pressing you against the wall to allow himself better access to you.

His lips find your neck, and a string of mewls leave your lips as he works to free himself from the confines of his shorts. And when you feel the tip of his cock smear pre-cum along your slit, you honestly feel like you’re really in for it now.

Your smart tongue has gotten you here, and you aren’t sure if you should thank it or curse it. But when you feel the tip of his thick cock begin to prod your entrance, your answer is made clear.

You claw at his back through his shirt, a sharp gasp leaving your lips. “Sylus, wait— I… go slow please,” you stammer out.

It has been awhile, and you weren’t exactly used to his size anymore. He gives you a nod of understanding, his eyes softening as he looks at you.

“Of course, baby, I hear you,” he whispers, his voice suddenly much gentler. He hooks an arm beneath you as a means of holding you up while his other hand tucks your hair behind your ear. “We don’t have to do this, honey. I don’t want to see you in pain.”

You shake your head, leaning in to press a kiss on his lips. “No, no… I want to. Just… slowly please.”

Sylus nods his head, pressing a sweet peck on your cheek as he slowly begins to push his cock deeper inside of you, keeping his eyes on your face to read your expression.

“I’m okay,” you say, answering the question that you know is swirling in his head right now.

He was a stretch, but it wasn’t too bad. And now as he slowly begins to build up a pace of thrusting inside of you, you’re feeling pleasure above anything.

He leans in to press another sweet kiss on your lips before he quickly returns to being the same asshole he was before, his smirk returning as he fucks you against the wall.

“You’re awfully bratty for someone who can hardly take my cock,” he purrs, trailing his lips along your jawline as he thrusts his cock even harder inside of you.

The sound of slapping skin and your breathy moans engulf the room, and it’s the most lewd and beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

“I can take it, you asshole,” you grumble, tugging on his hair as his length reaches a particular sensitive point of your walls.

He chuckles against your neck, drawing his tongue out to taste your skin. “Mm, I know, baby. You take it so nicely. Just giving you a hard time.”

You huff, leaning your head back against the wall, only for one of his large hands to cup the back of your head. You thought it was sweet how he was bracing you from the impact of how hard he was slamming your body against the wall with each thrust.

You mewl as you feel the heat in your belly pooling, your glassy eyes staring at the reflection of you two in the mirror, watching with blown eyes as he fucks you into oblivion.

He buries his length into you, keeping you pressed against the wall that way while your leg lock around his hips keeps you stable. He grasps onto your left hand, pressing a kiss on your ring.

“Do me a favor, baby,” he whispers, brushing his thumb over the jewelry. “Never take this off again.”

And within seconds, you’re nodding. “I won’t.”

Sylus chuckles, leaning in to press a kiss on your cheek as he begins to thrust inside of you again. “Who’s the easy one now, sweetie?”

This wasn’t how you expected your Halloween night to go, being fucked by your ex-husband in the bathroom of a party.

Well… this is what you get for being so sexy, you figure.

note: i was too lazy to think of some more banter between sylus and reader so i decided to give y’all the traditional ‘fade to black’… in the most untraditional sense. anyway!!! i tried something new with this and i’m not sure if it’s working for not so pls interact if you enjoyed! ik it was kinda nasty at some parts but hey… i had to do it to em. :3 TY FOR READING!!!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⟡ masterlist | request

[dmitriene]

being boss's john price sweet secretary, almost the only employee that doesn't drip on his nerves, not counting his trusting one's, as he keeps you constantly close, bordering on the thin line of professional relationship, but you think he's just nice to you, even when he purrs smokily for you to warm up his lap.

he doesn't gropes you, just traces his calloused hands over the curves of your body, they're heavy, hot, despite that you're fully dressed in your white button up shirt, tucked under your pencil skirt, too short, still for the liking of his eclipsed, cerulean gaze, albeit in need to be constantly covered up, when someone let their gazes wander, making john all growling and strict, tugging you behind him.

you feel embarrassed about it all, adorably shy at the fact that you have some special place of yours in john's mind, he doesn't let's you call him sir or boss, making you chirp his name shyly, and even through you squirm under his gaze and gentle croons, you still always end up at his thick, muscular lap, holding his cigar between your delicate fingers, letting the acrid, spicy smoky smell cloak around your form, perched close to his chest.

john's hands busy with paperwork you only recently brought him, so it's only normal for his secretary to help him, even if it's nothing but just letting him smoke from your hand, the scruff of his mutton chops tingling against your soft skin, as he enjoys the warmth and suppleness of your form, sitting pliable for him, and even if you squirm at his hand suddenly leaving the pen to brush against your lower back, he only purrs a hoarse chuckle.

it's only the matter of time when you get more responsibilities as his secretary, learning how to soothe him down when he's fuming after a bad work he received or a meeting gone south, and it's with you seating on his cold, wooden desk, with your pretty legs spread wide and your skirt rolled up, cotton panties dangling at your ankles, pussy already wet and on display for the blue eyes, edged with black.

your boss loves you all shy, with your face hiding in the crook of his neck, breathing in his prominent, woody musk, blending with the notes of his tart cigars and sign of whiskey, warm, tender with you, he doesn't let's his steam cloud his senses, taking you with long, heavy drags of his cock inside your spasming, gooey pussy, thrusts sloppy and slow, as he inhales at your hair, nuzzling his face in your temple.

listens to your breathy, squeaky keens, keeping his hips canting right to see the way your legs tremble, wrapping around his lower back, looping there tightly, as john moves to kiss wetly at your neck, needy, smudging presses of his plump lips against your smooth skin, holding his palm splayed over your coccyx, so you won't hurt while jolting on his desk, his precious girl.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[servicpop]

✶ ﹑ㅤtutoring seshㅤ﹏

NOW STARRING : adrien x bottom m!reader

「ㅤNSFWㅤ」ㅤtutor sesh w/ your deliquent situationship but he can't focus on the studying, only you!

✙ warnings — parents are home , manhandling(?) , obsessive 'n a little pervy adrien , slight hair pulling , bodyworship(?) , Adrien is a little silly in this fic

notes ,, this was supposed to be short but I got carried away ^^;

Adrien had called you over to his house for a "tutoring session." For past few weeks, Adrien has been near-failing practically every single class except for gym class and whatnot. Realising he needed to improve his grades or he'll never graduate with you, he called you on one faithful evening to come over and help him study.

Obviously you complied; it was nice to see Adrien showing some sort of motivation to improve, so you changed into some casual clothes and began to walk to his house. You had prepared your laptop, pencil case, and textbooks, all ready to put in a few hours of tutoring. When you arrived at his front door, you grazed the back of your knuckles against the wood and knocked once or twice, expecting Adrien to show up with a proud smirk like he always did.

But it wasn't Adrien. When the door swung open, you saw his mother. You've only seen her once or twice but never up-close like this. The words caught in your throat as you clutched the straps of your bags, trying to find the words that never came. As if heaven answered your prayers, you saw Adrien jogging down the stairs and to the door, leaning on the door frame with his arm held above his head.

"You came," He grinned, taking the bag from your shoulders as he pulled you inside by your wrist. He helped you take off your shoes cinderella style and neatly placed them beside the doorway. He was awfully caring right now. Your hands felt crammy as you took a glance at Adrien's mother watching the two of you interact, a small blush dusted your ears while you quickly turned away. It must've looked like you were dating with the way she crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

"Well, mom, we'll be in my room if you'd excuse us," Adrien flashed a toothy smile at his mother before snaking an arm around your waist and pulling you to his side. As he walked you up the stairs, Adrien found an opportunity to tease you, "You nervous meeting my mom?" He asked, squeezing your sides playfully. You shoot him an unamused gaze and he lets out a hearty chuckle from that. Adrien's hand wrapped around his gold doorknob, twisting it before he halted for a second. "Uh, wait here for a second, I gotta clean up my room," he didn't even wait for a response before slipping into his bedroom and closing the door behind him.

"Shit," Adrien muttered under his breath as he quickly shoved the polaroids and photos of you from his desk and into his drawer. He couldn't let you see how god damn obsessed he was about you. He couldn't let you see the photos of yourself stained with a white sheen, no, he wouldn't want to scare you off.

Adrien finally emerged from his room, pushing the door wide open for you to come in with a smile. You didn't question it. As you walked in, you were instantly hit with the scent of his cologne and natural musk. It wasn't a strong enough scent to burn your nose but it would still take you awhile to get used to it. Besides the scent, Adrien's bedroom was relatively clean for a guy who was titled 'the school deliquent.' He had a few sports posters plastered on the walls and his shelf had a few trophies from his childhood. You spotted the baseball bat leaned up against the wall alongside with the volleyball and basketball resting next to eachother. Adrien was sure athletic.

As you two sat down beside your desk, you pulled out all the equipment needed for studying and turned to Adrien, "What do you wanna study?" You asked him and got a small shrug in response. Well, why not start with biology since you conveniently happen to have a textbook that covered the subject.

Around 30 minutes pasted and you were diligently teaching him about human anatomy, glancing over to see him nodding once or twice. You thought it was going well but Adrien on the other hand... He was too focused on the way your hands glided against the pages, tapping the pen against the paper rhythmically, and how your eyes fluttered to him ever so often. Shit, he was horny as hell right now. Just the thought of those hands intertwining with his as he fucks the intelligence out of you is enough to get his blood pumping to the wrong places.

"Adrien? Are you listening?" Your voice snaps him out of his twisted fantasies and he leaned in closer to you, his voice dropping down to a whisper, "You know, I'm a hands-on, visual learner..." That shit-eating grin spread across his face as Adrien pat his lap enticingly, trying to draw your attention to the print in his sweatpants. But knowing you, you wouldn't give in so easily — you were called here to tutor him, not anything else.

"Just answer one more question and I'll—" Before you could even finish your sentence, Adrien's arms wrapped around your waist and he hoisted you up from the chair, practically slinging you over his shoulder. His forearms flexed around you, making sure you didn't fall before placing you on his bed, the mattress dipped from the sudden weight. "Try to be quiet 'kay? My parents are home," He nipped at the shell of your ear before hastily undoing your belt and sliding your pants off. Did he care that his parents could come in at any moment? No, but it was much more exciting to see you try and keep quiet.

"Can we kiss?" Adrien's voice was almost whiny, his eyelashes batted at you innocently — even though he was far from innocent. Nonetheless, you didn't respond, you've set certain boundaries that prevented you and him from getting attached (even though you may or may not have broken it a couple of times). "No," it was a simple, sharp answer that Adrien grumbled at. He understood where you were coming from, he was a bad influence and you were this goody-two-shoes. But he couldn't deny the part of him that wanted something more than just meaningless flings. He huffed, murmuring a small, "How can I study the muscles of a tongue then?"

Scooping you up back into his arms, Adrien ignored your small protests and shifted your position so that your stomach would lay flat against his bed. His hands met the back of yours, pinning you down as he slotted each of his fingers in the spaces between yours. "What happened to studying, Adrien?" Your scolds were muffled by Adrien's pillow and seemed to fall short of his ears. As he held you down, he grinded his hips against your ass, groaning softly from the pure excitement he felt. It had been a few months since he was about to get his hands on you, your pictures just wasn't as good as the real thing.

"Calvin klein hm?" Adrien chuckled softly, trailing his hands from the back of your palm, to your shoulders, down your spine, and to the waistband of your boxers, "Next time don't wear anything." His fingers hooked the elastic before pulling it down and off your legs. You couldn't see what he was doing from your position, and every touch made your skin jump, he was so unpredictable. His fingers traced the curve of your ass before spreading them apart to see your hole. "This is the anus right?" He asked, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

"—Yes," you hesitated to answer him, he was obviously playing games with you, but there was no harm in humoring him. You heard the faint rustling of clothes before you felt something prod at your entrance. You sucked in through your teeth, was he seriously going to do this with no lube? "Sorry, don't got any on me right now." It was like he read your mind and instead dipped his head down to lick a stripe over your hole. It tickled, and your body naturally jerked away from it before he grabbed your hips and held them down one more. Weirdo.

He shuffled behind you, placing two knees on either side of your legs and his fingers angled your hips a little bit up. The slight burn of Adrien pushing into you made your fingers curl around his pillow, gripping it like your life depended on it. He slowly pushed in, filling you up until his hips met your ass. Even if your skin was flushed against his, Adrien pushed impossibly deeper inside of you until he could feel his tip press against your prostate. His hands tightened around your waist, stopping you from squirming and forcing you to take it.

"Is this your prostate?" He asked, his voice slightly trembled from the pleasure that coursed his veins, he was trying so hard to control himself. This time you ignore him, you know well that he knew. From the lack of a response, Adrien let out a breathy laugh before he finally decided to move, pulling out almost all the way before slamming into you. Your eyes flew open and your knuckles grew pale from how hard you were holding onto his pillow, your whines were muffled quite well, thankfully.

Adrien groaned ruggedly as he pounded you into his bed, the headboard knocked on his wall with every thrust. "You're being so quiet," He chuckled, reaching a hand out to ruffle your hair affectionate before moving to grab your hand. You couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic enough with the way he kept slamming into you like it was a punishment. Everytime he pulled out, he cooed at the way your hole would suck him back in like it missed him. "Fuck, I just can't with you," He let out a shaky breath as he rolled his hips against you, pushing further and further, trying to reach places he couldn't before.

He was reaching so deep that tears began to blur your vision, everything felt so overwhelming but numb at the same time. He leaned down to press kisses on your knuckles as he held your hand tightly under his own. His hips were relentless, slapping against yours, you were sure he'd leave your bruised and sore tomorrow. It was like he completely forgot they weren't alone in his house. In fact, Adrien's fingers moved from your hand to your hair, threading them through each strand and grabbing a handful, tugging it gently so your head would lift from the pillow.

"Kiss?" He asked once more, his lips already ghosting over yours. At this point you didn't care, all you could feel was how Adrien was throbbing inside you and how your dick rubbed against his white sheets with every thrust. "Fine," you exhale and he took the opportunity almost immediately, capturing your mouth in a heated kiss as he pulled your hair back for more access. His tongue pushed past your lips, exploring your mouth while simultaneously keeping your moans contained.

The dim lighting, the way your eyes fluttered and threatened to roll back, his dick pulsing inside you, it was all too much for his perverted brain. "Gonna cum," he muttered against your lips, biting on your bottom lip. He his hands return to your hips and his head falls over your shoulder. You could feel your own orgasm building up as your body started to squirm, you cock growing sensitive from the constant rubbing against Adrien's sheets. Adrien paused his thrusting just to pull out completely and shove himself back in, causing a loud whine rip from your throat and you body jolting.

Your cum splattered across the bed as Adrien smiled against your shoulder, keeping you from squirming as he came inside you, filling you with his semen. With a few more wet thrusts, Adrien finally stilled, watching as his own cum bubbled around his dick as he nestled deep inside you. "We should do this again, hm? Next time we can study our chemistry," his arms snaked up your body to wrap them around your shoulders, capturing you in a bear hug as he looked up at you with a goofy smile.

"What's with you and being so corny?" You groan, pushing his face away from you.

a/n: i luv adrien sosososo much ... wish he real ,, also not sure if he was a bit ooc here ,, a bit sillier than usual but I hope you guys like it ♡

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Hellbound Angel

Male Yandere Demon x Male Angel Reader (CW: Noncon, drugged reader, drugged sex, drug-like cum, drug-like saliva, big ol' horse cock, literally equine dick, belly bulge, armpit kink, scent kink, musk, underwear sniffing, kidnapping, general yandere behavior, temporarily mind-broken reader, religious themes, dehydration, forced feminization, reader has minor injuries not inflicted by yandere) Word Count: 2.2k

In the never-ending war against the legions of Hell, the middle ground where most of the fighting was done was on Earth. However, the heavenly forces sometimes deemed an incursion into Hell necessary.

You had been sent on a mission to scout ahead and take note of the coming forces.

Angels were stronger than most demons. Even so, almost your entire squad had been wiped out in a bloody ambush. The other survivors had used the one holy recall scroll to teleport themselves back to heaven.

Each squad sent into Hell is given one and only one. They probably thought you were dead already when they left still with demons in pursuit. They had to act quickly. You didn't blame them. Without it, you were trapped here. Unless you could find a demon's gate that could take you to Earth. That's how the demons made it out. But there would certainly be legions of the enemy at such places.

You had managed to escape the slaughter of your scouting party, but you were injured. Your wings had been hurt as had your leg. Relatively minor injuries, but in a hostile land, they certainly made things more difficult.

To be honest, you weren't exactly the strongest angel on a good day. This was not a good day.

You limped along the rocky landscape, using your holy staff as a walking stick. You stayed low to remain unseen by any wandering beasts or demons as you made your way out of the fiery wastelands and into the white sand desert. Hell wasn't all fire and brimstone. It was the most popular depiction of Hell's most dramatic landscape, but there were other biomes, too. Now you were getting into one of the many deserts Hell had to offer.

It was cooler than the burning wastes, but by no means was it comfortable. Water and food were scarce, the white sands were nearly blinding, and the swirling black sky was a constant ominous reminder that you were not safe.

You could go a long time without food and water. You wouldn't die without them, but after a while, you would wither up and be unable to move. You'd go into a kind of stasis. And then you'd be defenseless.

For days, you wandered. At least... you thought it was days. Despite the perpetually black sky the sun never set. Your lips were chapped, your wounds aching, hope dying in your heart. You had to find an oasis to rest at. Build up your strength. From the limited maps you had seen of this region of Hell there should be one at the heart of this desert, but with your wings and legs messed up it would still take many days still to reach it.

There were several more days of endless marching, hobbling on your injured leg that was getting harder and harder to walk on before you finally saw the oasis in the distance. You tried your best to approach stealthily, going behind dunes and sand drifts whenever possible, and wrapping your white wings around you to provide some measure of camouflage with the white sands. As you got near, it disappeared in a puff of smoke. And out of the smoke stood a demon. It was a trap.

Dark brownish red skin, sharp horns, a tail flicking back and forth, and he stood at least a foot taller than you. He was very muscular, his sweat coated abs glistened in the sunlight. He wore nothing. His long horse-like cock and big nuts swinging freely below a thick patch of black pubic hair.

You caught yourself accidentally staring and looked away quickly before readying your divine staff for a fight. Which was really hard, since you could barely stand without it.

The demon winked and chuckled.

"Do you like it~ There's no harm in just looking, you know?"

He closed the distance between the two of you in a flash and knocked the staff away in one fluid motion.

"As a matter of fact, you can do a lot more than look, little bird. My cum would make you feel so much better~ That oasis you're looking for is still miles away."

"Uh, thanks for the kind offer, but I think I will pass. I'll just be on my way and out of your hair."

You stepped back slowly, hoping to make it to your staff so you could maybe limp away and give him a good smack if he followed. But he wasn't giving you the chance.

"Oh, but you're dehydrated!"

He took a few steps forward until there were mere inches between you. He put a hand on your cheek and thumbed at your chapped lips gently.

"Your lips are all dry. Let me help~"

Before you could decline, he held your head in place and leaned down. He traced and prodded your sore lips with his long slick tongue.

You tried to push him away but couldn't do much in your current condition. And the saliva was having some kind of effect on you.

He slipped his tongue past your lips and kissed you greedily.

Your head grew fuzzy and your legs weak. His spit was some type of drug. It felt... nice...

You resisted it as long as you could, even resorting to biting his tongue, but he ignored it and continued. Moments later, you slumped against him, your head on his muscular chest. The only thought in your head as you passed out was how nice this man in front of you smelled.

He picked you up gently and carried you bridal style. It was fitting since you were certainly his little bride now, as far as he was concerned. He placed a chaste kiss on the top of your head and then started walking towards the underground dwelling he called home.

When you woke up, your wounds had been healed, and you felt a lot better. Though you were still dizzy. There was an intoxicating smell all around you and you didn't recognize your surroundings.

Your first instinct was to jump up and flee, but you were immediately pulled back down and placed in the lap of your demonic captor. His monstrous cock poking out between your thighs.

You looked down and realized you were naked, your soft cock and balls laying on his unnaturally warm prick.

"Let me go!" You elbowed him as hard as you could but he must have made sure you stayed drugged because you couldn't muster up any strength to put into your struggle.

"Let you go? After all the trouble I have gone through to romance you?"

"Romance!? You kidnapped me and I don't even know who the fuck you are, creep!!"

You struggled with renewed anger, smacking your head backwards, elbowing, kicking, and scratching. All amounting to you gasping for breath, tired, while he chuckled at the attempt.

"You're in Hell! I could have raped you and left you in the sand to be killed by any passing monster and that still would have been considered romance."

He placed his large hands on your legs with his thumbs drawing lazy circles on your thighs.

"I saved you from the desert, treated your wounds, let you rest for days, fed you, gave you water, and bathed you. That is damn romantic!"

He started assaulting your neck with little licks and kisses, enjoying how you squirmed in protest while sitting on his equine cock.

"As for the name that you'll be moaning when I bury myself in you, it's Tevrik."

"My friends will come back for me. You should save yourself the trouble and let me go now!"

This was a bluff, of course. They almost certainly thought you were dead. You didn't know if your deception would work, but you didn't expect him to respond with a cackle.

"No, they won't! Rathiel won't let em!"

A shudder went through you at the mention of your boss who had ordered the mission into Hell.

"He's one of Hell's best agents. Gives us lots of intel."

You were dumbfounded and fell silent a moment before regaining your composure and replying angrily.

"Lies from a worthless demon!"

"I'd never lie to you, sweetie~"

He trailed his hands up and down your thighs as he continued.

"How else did we set up that ambush? Rathiel sent you to us. We needed more angel blood. But not yours."

Your blood ran cold as he began grinding into you.

"I picked you out from a bunch of employee profiles just to be my little princess. I'm half angel myself and wanted an angel bride~ We'll rule this region of Hell together!"

He repositioned you on his lap to face towards him as his flared cock grew fully erect.

"You weren't supposed to be hurt in the battle. I'm so sorry about that. I killed the demons who did it."

You didn't even struggle when he positioned you above his dick, hot precum smearing your hole as his cock pressed against it. The betrayal drained the fight from you.

"After the battle, I just followed you for a bit, so you'd be tired. And now here you are. With me."

The precum and smell of his arousal were making you dizzier. The words he spoke brought tears from your eyes.

"Awe, don't cry. After we have some alone time to adjust, I'll take you to the palace~ You'll be royalty!"

You winced as his cock entered you, expecting pain. Surprisingly, there was none. Instead it was like every cell in your body was filled with pleasure.

This couldn't be right. You had to escape. Sex with a demon was a very taboo thing.

You started struggling but Tevrik held you still.

"Shhh, I know you're upset. But just let it happen, okay? I'll make you feel so good."

As his precum continued to dribble out of his dick and into you and as the betrayal by your trusted higher up sank in you once more lost the will to fight.

Why were you fighting anyway? This cock felt so nice. And he was so kind and romantic to go through all this trouble to get you away from your evil boss right?

You relaxed and lay against his chest as he pumped into you slowly. You looked up at him and realized he had your underwear in his hand and was holding it up to his nose sniffing the crotch.

"You smell so good, girly. So good. You feel good too."

"You smell nice too!" Then your brain caught up with the rest of what he had said.

"A-and I'm not a g-girl." Too focused on your pleasure to really care.

"Nah, you're too pretty to be a man. Too weak too. Plus you have this tight little cunt hugging my dick. You're definitely a girly~"

"O-okay."

You blushed because he called you pretty. You supposed he made a lot of sense. You were clearly a girl. You wondered why you didn't know that sooner. It felt right.

He chuckled warmly as you drooled on his chest and made cute little gasps and moans. He couldn't wait until you were moaning his name.

Tevrik didn't pound you, he didn't want to hurt his sweet baby bird. Instead he just rocked his hips into you and enjoyed the effect it had on you.

After you started making those delicious noises his demonic precum began to make you super cuddly. He continued to breed your tight hole while you started nuzzling him and leaving gentle kisses on his chest. He began grinding into you a bit faster and more forcefully, his cock clearly outlined through your belly as it nestled into you as deeply as he could get it.

"Fuck babe, I'm about to bust."

But you came before he did it. Your cock spilling silvery angelic seed on his belly as you called his name and clung to him tightly. The combined sight of you cumming while impaled by his dick while at the same time calling his name just like you promised he would sent Tevrik over the edge. His large balls filled your tummy with hot demon cum. It made you feel warm and fluttery and loved. Like you could feel his emotions through his seed.

You were so tired from all the emotion and sex that you passed out on top of him, nuzzling your nose into the comforting scent of his armpit as you clung to him.

Tevrik smiled. You were just so precious. Sadly, he knew you'd regress back into struggling against him. But that was okay. He would keep reminding you how the angels threw you away and keep breeding you full of his drug-like semen. Soon you'd crave it. He'd bed you constantly until you needed it. And then breed you as much as you wanted him to after that.

Yeah, it would take a while. But he had all the time in the universe.

Tevrik sighed with content and closed his eyes, taking your underwear and putting it back up to his nose while he relaxed with his cock still deep inside you.

You may have been in Hell, but Tevrik was in Heaven.

[kazvha]

WHAT THE GENSHIN BOYS SMELL LIKE

Including: Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Freminet, Gaming, Gorou, Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Kaveh, Kazuha, Lyney, Neuvillette, Tartaglia, Thoma, Tighnari, Venti, Wanderer, Wriothesley, Xiao, Zhongli

Notes: These are just personal headcanons, don't take these too seriously🥴 Enjoy!!💛

ALBEDO

• I think he smells like nothing most of the time

• You only feel cold air when you stand next to him because he's in Dragonspine a lot

• Subtle notes of charcoal which he uses as an art tool or of strong chemicals cling onto him on some days

ALHAITHAM

• I also don't think he smells like anything on most days, maybe only like the fresh clothes he's wearing

• Though he has a faint scent of coconut to him. It could be the shampoo or the skin care products he's using, but it's mostly because of his body lotion

AYATO

• His hair always smells like the shampoo he uses. So sugary and sweet, like vanilla cake or bubblegum

• But for his body and clothes he uses expensive clean and powdery fragrances

• Quite the combo, I must say💀 Strange, just like his taste in food

BAIZHU

• Smells like expensive bar soap. A mix of aloe vera and ginger

• Also smells kinda sour because of the herbs he works with

CYNO

• Smells like pure white musk which smells great

• But it can be quite intense on some days when he decides to go overboard with his sprays

• He's sweating at the end of the day but the smell is subtle

DAINSLEIF

• He smells like the environment he was in. Often it's nature. Every now and then he smells like the rain too

• Also smells kinda dusty, like that basement smell you know? People either love it or hate it.

DILUC

• He smells warm and homely. Notes of cedar, sandalwood, or cinnamon

• But you'd have to stand really close to him to smell anything, his coat kinda dulls the scent

• Of course, he always smells like the vineyard and grapes during the harvest

FREMINET

• Smells fresh like bar soap. It's almost unnoticeable. It has a light scent of baby powder

• His clothes smell like chamomile because of the fabric softener he uses

GAMING

• This fella smells like cocoa butter because he uses it as body lotion

• I can also imagine that he carries an aroma of caramel/burnt sugar

• Bro eats so much dim sum, he often smells like the food he ate

GOROU

• I don't think he has a particular scent

• But his home/room smells like cinnamon, cloves, and oranges. The scent kinda rubs off on him

HEIZOU

• He wears body mists with floral notes. His favorites are maybe roses, lavender, or honeysuckle

• He likes to keep a little lavender sachet in his closet, so his clothes also smell like flowers

ITTO

• Idk, he probably smells like someone who's outside a lot. He has that outside smell, you know what I mean?

• He probably wears a musky fragrance, but it usually mixes with his sweat

KAEYA

• My bro is using all sorts of Arabian oils and fragrances. He has some with the notes of oud, musk, amber, and much more. Kaeya has a whole collection

• He smells divine and he knows it because people compliment him every day

• But like Venti, he drinks a lot, so his scent mixes with the wine odor

KAVEH

• Kaveh likes to wear fruity, tropical fragrances because he's always craving chilled fruits, especially on days that are hotter than usual.

• They also remind him of the days on which he sat in front of his house with his parents and ate watermelons

• Also has an alcohol odor sometimes like his fellas in Mondstadt

KAZUHA

• He uses a fabric softener because he likes his clothes to be extra comfortable. That's why he often smells like fresh laundry

• Because he spends a lot of his free time in nature, he probably also smells like grass or firewood

LYNEY

• Berries. He always smells like berries.

• He won't tell you what his secret is

• You guess every product he uses has the scent of berries. His bodywash, his shampoo, his body lotion, his deodorant, his fabric softener, the candle in his room, his lip balm, etc. Even his toothpaste...

NEUVILLETTE

• This sir smells like the ocean. Like the sea breeze. Like water itself.

• Yeah, he likes expensive-smelling aquatic colognes. Though occasionally he also uses citrusy perfumes

TARTAGLIA

• Something tells me that he either smells like expensive aquatic fragrances

• Or he smells like an old lady mixed with the aroma of nature, grass, firewood, animals, etc.

THOMA

• He probably likes to wear sweet scents like tonka bean and honey

• Or even perfumes with fruity notes like peach or pear

TIGHNARI

• You can't tell me this guy doesn't smell like herbs, plants, flowers and stuff

• Idk, when I think of him I think of eucalyptus

VENTI

• He would smell quite fresh and idk, breezy?

• Like a fresh breath of air in spring if you know what I mean

• But since he's drunk most of the time the overbearing odor of wine sticks to him

WANDERER

• Nahida gifted him a citrus perfume and he has been using it ever since

• He likes bitter smells too, so he bought himself bitter perfumes with bergamot, bitter orange, and grapefruit notes

WRIOTHESLEY

• I think he wears a perfume which has woody, earthy notes. Sometimes he has a fresh minty smell to him too

• When he fights the scents obviously mix with his sweat

• I also think a light scent of motor oil sticks to him

XIAO

• Most of the days he smells literally like nothing, or sweat. It's not overbearing though

• But there are some days on which he smells super sweet, like vanilla, cotton candy, a baked treat or something

• It's either because he ate those things or because he has body sprays with these scents. He won't tell you

ZHONGLI

• If you're standing close to him, you'll smell his pleasant cologne scent

• It could be musky or woody, but he usually wears floral scents like osmanthus

• His scent mixes with the aroma of tea leaves or herbs which he gets from wandering in the market and drinking tea the whole day

[unusualtfs]

The Roommate Compatibility Program

this is my first time posting something like this to tumblr, hope it's an enjoyable read !

Arthur and Jimmy may have had the same last name, but that was the only thing they had in common.

Arthur Lee was, by all accounts, a nerd. When the Asian math major wasn’t dutifully taking notes on complex equations at his lectures or studying in silence at the library, he could usually be found holed up in his dorm, gaming until the wee hours of the morning. His only extracurricular activity to speak of was his weekly participation in the Chinese Student Union, if by “participation” one meant “sitting in the back of the room and not speaking to anyone.” His naturally pale skin was made even more so by a lack of sunlight, and his messy black hair resisted any attempt at styling. Short, shrimpy, and gay, he had clearly never seen the inside of a gym. In short, he was the exact opposite of his roommate.

Jimmy Lee was everything Arthur was not. Tall where Arthur was short, buff where Arthur was skinny, popular where Arthur was friendless. The straight white jock spent his days living out the all-American college fantasy — playing sports, pumping iron, and partying all night long. Of course, that hardly left any time for Jimmy to work toward his comms degree — but that hardly mattered, because everyone knew he was as dumb as a bag of rocks. His brutish Neanderthal features, extensive body hair, and blond buzz cut only added to that impression.

Maybe it would have been unrealistic to expect Arthur and Jimmy to be friends, but certainly no one could have anticipated the sheer antipathy that defined their roommate relationship. Arthur’s reasons for hating Jimmy were predictable — he was dumb, loud, and obnoxious; he left dirty clothes and sweaty exercise gear everywhere; and he stank up the dorm with his alpha musk. Jimmy equally couldn’t stand his prissy, prudish roommate. Arthur nagged him constantly, and he shot down all his invitations to work out or go out. Not to mention, he forbade Jimmy from getting laid while he was in the room, which was all the time. Nothing said unsexy like the presence of a judgmental Asian nerd hunched over his gaming PC at two in the morning.

Needless to say, it was not an ideal situation for anyone. So when a flier for the Roommate Compatibility Program was slipped under their door one evening, their interest was piqued.

Having issues with your roommate(s)? The Roommate Compatibility Program is here to help! Our trained experts use scientifically proven methods to ensure you and your roommate have a lifelong bond. 100% success rate, guaranteed!

In a rare moment of agreement for them, they decided they had nothing to lose.

That was how they found themselves entertaining a stranger in their dorm the next day. The man, who had introduced himself as “Mr. Thompson-Filipowski, from the RCP — but you can call me Mr. T.F. for short” had shown up out of the blue, giving them no time to prepare. So now they sat in their respective beds, answering Mr. T.F.’s questions as he appraised their living space thoughtfully. He wore a loud blue suit and had in hand a clipboard that he occasionally used to jot down notes, but otherwise he had no distinguishing features to speak of. Everything else about him, from his build to his skin tone to his hairstyle, was somehow impossible to pin down. He must have just had one of those faces.

“Thank you, boys,” he said after he was done interrogating them about their (lack of a) relationship. “I just have one more question for each of you before we can officially get started.” He turned to Jimmy first. “Jimmy, what would your ideal roommate be like?”

Jimmy had to think for quite a bit at that question. Finally, he responded in his vapid baritone: “Uh, I dunno… I guess he would just, like, be my bro.”

Mr. T.F. nodded, scribbling something on his clipboard. “Okay, excellent.” He turned to the Asian nerd next. “And Arthur, what about you?”

“My ideal roommate would be someone who’s, well, similar to me,” Arthur said, wincing at how his voice still cracked at every word. “Someone who shares my interests, and who I can spend time with, and… yeah.”

Mr. T.F. returned to his clipboard. “Right,” he said. “So, to summarize — Jimmy, you want your roommate to be your bro. And Arthur, you want your roommate to be similar to you. Is that correct?” There was a strange weight to his words, exuding the sense that something significant was carried within them, but Jimmy didn’t register this and Arthur thought it irrational, so both roommates ignored it. They nodded.

“Excellent!” Mr. T.F. said, the ominous presence now gone from his voice. “Okay, so often what we’ve found at the RCP is that roommate incompatibility is often a case of misapplied expectations. Often, our roommates do meet our expectations, you just need to keep an open mind about it. I’d wager you boys have much more in common than you think.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and Jimmy audibly scoffed at that, but they both kept listening anyway.

“For instance, looking around your dorm room, I can tell that both of you have a pretty similar fashion sense, wouldn’t you say?”

Arthur wanted to protest that all of the clothes strewn about belonged to Jimmy, not him, but the more he looked, the more he realized that wasn’t entirely true. That jersey on the floor definitely belonged to him, as did the baseball cap hanging from his bed and the sweaty white socks next to his desk. In fact, now that he thought about it, roughly half of the clothing he could see actually was his. Huh, he supposed he did dress similarly to Jimmy, then…

“I guess so,” Jimmy said as Arthur was distracted. “It’s hard to remember whose is whose sometimes because we dress the same and wear the same size, huhuh.”

As Jimmy spoke, his words became reality. He didn’t notice, but he shrunk down a few inches from his previously monstrous height until he was just under six feet — still respectable, but no longer anything more. Meanwhile, Arthur rose dramatically to meet him, until they stood at the exact same height. Since the two were equally small and shared the same taste in schlubby, sporty clothes, they essentially owned one wardrobe between them, borrowing and swapping constantly — although what looked tight and well-fitted on the muscular Ajimmy was loose and baggy on the lanky Jarthur. Curiously, the shirt Jarthur currently wore was the one item of clothing he wore that didn’t update itself to match his new reality; as such, it was now uncomfortably small on him.

Mr. T.F. continued, “And judging by the sports gear and gaming equipment in here, it looks like you also have similar interests, isn’t that right? Have you ever tried bonding over that?”

Again, it seemed Mr. T.F. was mistaken. Yes, their room indicated their respective interests in fitness and video games, but those interests were far from shared. Jarthur wanted to correct him, but then he had to reconsider. While he wasn’t into sports like Ajimmy, he certainly knew his way around them. He got as hyped as any other guy watching the Super Bowl, and he had fun whenever he was invited to play a quick game of basketball or soccer.

Meanwhile, Ajimmy was trying not to laugh at the implication that he liked video games. What did Mr. T.F. take him for, some nerd like Jarthur? But now that he thought about it… he did have fond memories of owning his bros with his mad gaming skills. He didn’t really want to call himself a gamer — he wasn’t into any of that anime or Nintendo kiddie shit. But Madden, CoD? Yeah, he fucked with those.

Imperceptibly, the dorm room shifted to match the roommates’ changing interests. Posters of popular players duplicated themselves from Ajimmy’s side of the room and pinned themselves into the wall above Jarthur’s bed. At the same time, the gaming computer vanished from Jarthur’s desk, swiftly replaced by a small TV between their beds. Well-used controllers popped into existence, one for each of them. The roommates themselves weren’t spared from the wave of changes, either. The tan leached out of Asjimm’s skin until he was quite pale, although not unhealthily so. Meanwhile, muscles made themselves known for the first time all across Joethur’s body. He was still lanky, but there was a definite sculptedness to his body that had never been there before, demonstrating his newfound appreciation of physical activity and straining his shirt even further.

“Yeah, all the time,” Joethur responded to Mr. T.F.’s questions. “I can destroy Asjimm at basketball in real life and in 2K,” he bragged.

“As if!” Asjimm retorted good-naturedly. “Next time, I’m kicking your ass, nerd!”

Joethur laughed. He may have had some problems with his roommate, but their shared competitiveness was not one of them.

“Ah, that’s lovely to hear,” Mr. T.F. said, checking a box on his clipboard. “The best way to become closer is to spend time together, after all. But that should be easy for you two — I’d imagine your class schedules are quite similar, since you’re in the same major.”

What was Mr. T.F. talking about? Joethur had never taken a comms class in his life, and Asjimm would certainly never be caught dead in a math classroom. But then Joethur went over his class schedule in his head again, and he realized that he did share most of his classes with his roommate. There was Accounting 101 on Mondays and Wednesdays, and Entrepreneurship every Thursday morning… In fact, aside from Joethur’s one math class and Asjimm’s lone comms class, their schedules were identical! But how could that be the case…?

“Well, I mean, yeah, I guess we do,” Asjimm said. His face twisted into a cocky smirk. “But just between you and me, it’s not like we bother to show up to class most of the time, right Joethyr?”

Everything suddenly snapped into place for Joethyr. Ausjim was right, of course — being a business major required confidence, charisma, and leadership skills more than anything else, and both Joethyr and Ausjim had that in spades. It certainly didn’t require studying or smarts, which was fortunate for Joethyr, as his brain was rapidly shrinking to match his meatheaded roommate’s. In fact, it was even smaller than Ausjim’s — he had scored highly enough in high school math that he was able to take an elective comms class for an easy A this semester, while Joethyr was being forced to struggle through calculus for a second time.

Records across campus rapidly rewrote themselves to reflect this new reality. Ausjim’s grades rose slightly, even as Joethyr’s GPA dropped from a 4.0 to a 2.0 — but whatever, C’s got degrees. In turn, the two roommates underwent their own changes. Joethyr’s unkempt hair retreated into his skull, leaving behind a slick fade. Moreover, the spark of intelligence retreated from his eyes, leaving them dark and hard. Ausjim’s hair experienced the opposite change, growing out into an impeccably groomed quiff that perfectly framed his face, neutralizing his unattractive Neanderthal features. His body hair also faded into nothingness, leaving him totally clean-shaven. The business classes he was taking had taught him the importance of presentation, after all.

“Yeah, bruh,” Joethyr agreed, now speaking in the same vacant timbre as Ausjim.

“Well, how do you boys spend your time then?” Mr. T.F. prompted. He was nearly at the bottom of his checklist — this far into the process, he didn’t even need to guide the roommates’ transformation. Their new personalities had largely subsumed who they used to be, and would be happy to fill the remaining gaps by themselves.

“Isn’t it obvious, bruh?” Ausjim said. “The gym — duh! Gotta get those gains!”

At his roommate’s proclamation, Joethy underwent a startling change. At last, his muscles ballooned all across his body until they were identical in size to Ausjim’s. No longer did he have to settle for merely toned — he was well and truly ripped. So dramatic was the change that his shirt was instantly torn apart, revealing his glorious pecs and washboard abs for the world to see. The Asian hunk subconsciously flexed as he thought about his answer to Mr. T.F.’s question, realizing something funny in the process.

“Hell, we probably even spend more time at the Chinese Student Union than class, right bruh?” Joethy nudged his equally jockish roommate.

The word “Chinese” resonated in Ausjin’s mind as he experienced sudden changes of his own. His lush hair was quickly thickening and inexorably staining itself midnight black. And as for the rest of his body, his lack of hair down there became much easier to maintain, as he naturally had less of it. Meanwhile, his facial features were shifting all at once — brow softening, nose broadening, eyes narrowing, lips plumpening. Eventually, they settled on what the rest of his body had already become — a carbon copy of his roommate.

“Yeah, bro, totally…”

At the word “bro,” the roommates’ final changes began. The physical refinements were over, but there was still work to do mentally. Ausjin’s brain was purged of the faces of his former family, their white features morphing into far more familiar Asian ones. Fond memories shifted as his mother’s famous meatloaf became her authentic dumpling recipe, and the destination of his childhood summer vacations was corrected from Europe to China. Through it all, he remained the dumb, popular jock he had always been. That was also true of Joethy, who could no longer remember being a lame, skinny nerd. Nights spent studying were replaced with nights spent partying, and members of an extensive social circle easily entered the parts of his brain that had never experienced true friendship. His memories of his family remained the same, however — with one key addition. The newcomer’s face was blurry, but the more that he focused on it, the more familiar it seemed. Almost like… his own face…? Or was it Ausjin’s face? That seemed closer, but… 

By Joethy’s side, Ausjin found his memories haunted by an identical face. The two jocks sat there in dumbfounded silence, both trying to recall who it was that featured so prominently in their memories. What was his name? Not Joethy or Ausjin, but rather… rather…

“Joey! Austin!”

Joey and Austin Lee snapped back to attention, refocusing on their strange guest.

Mr. T.F. chuckled, putting his clipboard away. “You boys zoned out there for a sec! It’s okay, I’ll get out of your hair soon. I just have one last question for you — are you getting along as roommates?”

“Well, of course we’re getting along, bruh!” Austin exclaimed.

“We’re basically the same person already!” Joey finished his twin’s sentence with a pure, dull guffaw.

Because it was true. Joey and Austin Lee were clearly cut from the same cloth: The identical twin Asian jocks were both brainless, buff, bisexual business-major bros. The only appreciable difference between the twins was their hairstyles. Austin fancied himself a pretty boy, spending hours by the mirror meticulously maintaining his gelled hair. Joey, meanwhile, rocked a utilitarian crew cut, confident enough to put his angelic face on full display. But other than that, they were totally inseparable — everything they did, from working out to gaming to partying, they did together. (Rumor had it that they even fucked together, only bringing a lucky girl or guy home when he or she was willing to share.)

“Great to hear that! Thanks for participating in our Roommate Compatibility Survey, you two — although I don’t know what results we were expecting from twins like you… Anyway, have a great one!” As Mr. T.F. exited the room, he allowed himself one last glance back at the Lee twins as they mindlessly bantered. Both of them had certainly gotten their wishes. Joey was exactly like Austin, and Austin was exactly like Joey, and they were certainly each other’s bros — in both senses of the word. Another success for the Roommate Compatibility Program.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind Mr. T.F., the Lee twins promptly forgot he had ever existed, returning to their existences as paragons of young Asian American masculinity.

“So, what’s the plan for today, bro?” Austin said. “Hit the gym, then hit the streets?”

Joey smirked, admiring himself and his twin in the mirror. “You know me so well, bro!”

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Ooh since you do omegaverse what do you think Ford and Stan scents would be?

A/n: I love this!

•Stanley Pines•

Pine, it's something you do find comfort in you get hit with a rut. Taking his coat you'd often bury your nose inhaling his scent. It doesn't smell like those cheap knock of scent's you find hanging in cars oh no he smells of the woods, pine trees.

Though if you would like to go in a more deeper scent I would say he smell's like white musk and teakwood, adding a clean, sensual undertone and a robust, a woody depth to him.

During the night of his own ruts though subtle his scent does change, with you getting whiffs of Whiskey and the scent of his cigar.

•Stanford Pines•

While Ford may share the scent of teakwood, that is where he draws the line at the similarities. He has the woody warmth of teakwood with a delicate floral notes of geranium, echoing Ford's determination and resilience. The scent of old books and ink are an under tone that you'll catch a whiff of if you are standing close enough to the man.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

💕 twst 2024 valentine gifts! 🎁

***Please note:*** Sharing merch images + news is not intended to encourage and/or to pressure anyone into making purchases. It is up to the individual consumer to be informed and to choose how they spend their money.

For general information about how TWST Valentine Gifts work, check out this post.

For character signatures and the messages from previous years, check out this post.

The gifts for 2024 are 100 ml fragrance sprays. These are not perfumes, they are more like room sprays. According to Yana, they worked with professional perfumers and the fragrances were formulated with each character's "image" in mind! These each come with a unique bottle label, plus a ribbon and a little wooden charm with a matching character motif on it. You can soak the wooden charm with the fragrance and use it to diffuse the smell through a room.

Preorders are open until 10 March 2024.

(Warning: in the case that these contain alcohol, it will not be possible to send the fragrances overseas due to shipping regulations against flammable materials. The paper goods—the 2024 Valentine Gift messages—will still be able to be sent out.)

Each character has their own unique scent. The following are summaries of what each spray smells like overall (according to official posts), but each also has its own more detailed descriptions of the top, middle, and base notes on their individual website postings.

Heartslabyul

Riddle - refined rose (geranium, rose, honey)

Trey - powdery mint (spearmint of course the guy obsessed with dental hygiene smells like MINT, white flowers, powdery musk and balsam)

Cater - lemon herbal (lemon, herbs like juniper, amber and cedar)

Ace - naughty cherry (cherry, almond and rose, vanilla and woods)

Deuce - citrus rhubarb (citrus and rhubarb, rose, warm musk)

Savanaclaw

Leona - clear wild (rosemary, neroli, musk and sandalwood)

Ruggie - dried nuts (hazelnut, vanilla, creamy musk and dry woods)

Jack - calm pear (pear, osmanthus, amber)

Octavinelle

Azul - salty milk (salt and minerals, herbs like sage, milky musk)

Jade - bergamot amber (bergamot, herbs, patchouli and amber)

Floyd - aqua vetiver (Japanese pepper yes, a literal pepper, a fresh bouquet, vetiver and musk)

Scarabia

Kalim - mystical musk (citrus, white flowers, creamy musk and sandalwood)

Jamil - smoky herb (spicy herbs, white flowers, musk and smoky leather)

Pomefiore

Vil - elegant fruity (cassis, white flowers, vanilla and musk and sandalwood)

Rook - dry green (eucalyptus, geranium, tonka beans)

Epel - spicy apple (cinnamon, apple, vanilla and sandalwood)

Ignihyde (warning that these were vaguely worded compared to the rest of the fragrances)

Idia - clean musk (“something refreshing”, lily of the valley, sweet musk why does bro smell sweeter than most of the others www)

Ortho - bluish clean (rosemary and other “fresh” smells, clear plants/greens he’s touching the grass that Idia refuses to)

Diasomnia

Malleus - deep oak moss (forest, spices, sweet and earthy vetiver and oak moss)

Lilia - historical depths (citrus, roses and white flowers, thick musk and sandalwood)

Silver - musty green (black pepper, cedarwood, warm sandalwood and musk)

Sebek - honest aroma (rosemary, white flowers and spices, patchouli and oak moss he shares a base note with Malleus, this was 100% intentional)

Grim + NRC Staff Shoot, no Rollo, Fellow, or Gidel valentine gift :(

Grim - innocent soap (citrus, lily of the valley, peach and musk he just hopped out of the bath)

Crowley - mysterious calm (***fatty aldehyde***, white flowers, cedarwood and amber)

Crewel - sweet charm (amber, woods, sweet oak moss)

Trein - tense wood (spices, dry woods, “sweet tangy tone” sorry, the base was vague)

Vargas - manly musk (smoky spices, incense, vetiver and leather and musk)

Sam - exotic bouquet (cloves, bouquet including ylang-ylang, tropical woods)

***NOTE ABOUT CROWLEY’S:*** I looked this up! Apparently, fatty aldehydes smell like fresh citrus but I believe the literally translated term is “fatty aldehyde”; not sure why it was worded like this. There are many forms of aldehyde and each smells different. For example, one form smells closer to a rose. Another supposedly smells like rancid butter 💀

[appleepies]

Author’s Note: Futa Ellie, smutty blowjob on Ellie

Just getting into the hang of things again <3

Her cock tasted like musk and salty skin. Each lap of her stiff phallus made your head stuffy and your cunt damper. You put your tongue flat against the underside of Ellie’s thick cock and licked over each vein and ridge until your lips suckled in her mean pink tip, the top bubbling up with pearlescent cum beads, from the attention your warm little mouth gave it. Your ass and pussy were dripping click onto the floor, you were in nothing more than a tiny little skirt, a cute little piece of lingerie that ended right in the middle of your ass, leaving the rest of you purposefully exposed.

Ellie was melting into your tongue, moaning and groaning as your puffy mouth sucked and sucked her cock, coaxing it to bust a creamy musky load in your mouth and down your chin. You were growing so horny, eager to help your girlfriend finish so she could empty her big veiny balls, angry with the heavy sperm load it had been carrying all week. Eager to be released into a pretty woman’s hole. Mouth, asshole, pussy, it didn’t matter.

You knew how painful blue balls were for Ellie so you helped her take care of it, sucking and slurping, gagging and groaning, while your pretty little micro skirt let the breeze of Ellie’s room cool your hot and puffy pussy, and cool your asshole from how utterly turned on you were. Ellie’s nipples were hard as buttons under her shirt, and the hand she had on the back of your head tightened as you suckled her deep pink cocktip. She was beyond the point of speaking, she just kept groaning unintelligible sentences and straining every muscle in her body just to make the blowjob last longer, to not bust her syrupy white cum on your face too soon and let the fun be over. So she held on, holding herself back as you worked her long dick. Kissing, licking, sucking, suckling all eight inches until she painted your face and mouth with her sticky white cum.

[arcielee]

My body was bruised and I was set alight

Summary: You decide to pay your husband a visit. Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 3.6+ Warnings: AFAB Reader, mentions of Targcest, infidelities, kissing, oral (f receiving), p in v, creampie, overstimulation. Author's Note: Thank you my beloved @zaldritzosrose for beta reading and helping me decide how this arc should end! 💜 This is part 3 of my Only If For A Night, my accidental short-series. I would advise you to read part 1 and part 2, but do what you want. I finished this WIP base on the poll created to celebrate hitting 2k followers! (Thank you, my loves! 💜) This is the final part for the Aemond arc. Title comes from Florence + The Machine. Valyrian translations: ābrazȳrys is wife and dōna ābrazȳrys is sweet wife

You were standing out on the terrace with an iron grip on your chalice, half-drunk, watching the slow rise of the moon and its silver spill streaking out over the dark blanket settling over the horizon. Below, you could hear the swell of the night life for Flea Bottom, the amber glow of manmade lights lining the streets, but your focus remained on the broken surface of Blackwater Bay, the salt air licking your face. 

Another somber sigh was followed by another swallow of bitter wine. Favor, you were learning, was something that could change as quick as the currents that now propelled the waters to crash white against the cliffside beneath you. 

It was an almost poetic view from your gilded cage, a place where your confinement began eight days prior after a misdiagnosis from the maester. Worry thrummed of your delicate condition, but you knew the only reason you fainted was caused by the constricting corset you happened to be wearing when your husband made his gallant return to the throne room. 

You had not seen him, much less spoken to Aemond since that night. It was something of a sinful replay in your mind, and it left you with an ache that the king could no longer sate. 

That did not matter since whatever was between the two of you, you knew that you did not love Aegon nor did he love you. It started as something more primal, more insatiable, but it also allowed you a new freedom within the castle grounds. 

It was a freedom you wished to keep, and the coupling was pleasant enough. It was why you cinched your waist on that day, another means to entice the king, to hold his attention while the lords of the realm paraded new skirts to try and sway his grace. 

You were lovely, but it restricted the air from your lungs, and what little you had was wrenched away with your audible gasp at your husband’s grandiose entrance.  

The doors swung heavy when his arrival was announced. Aemond was poised, as always, and his eye searched for you. You felt your blood searing to the surface and your vision narrowing to a pinpoint. The world pitched and you last saw his long gate crossing to catch you, the warmth of his palms moving to lift you into his arms. You felt the rumble of his chest as he called for the maester. 

As Aemond carried you back to your quarters, your head lulled against him, eyes fluttering, enveloped by his scent of dragonback and sweat, a woodsy musk that held onto his riding leathers. Your cheeks warmed from his intense proximity, from the steady beating of his heart, and the elder master–who struggled to keep with the prince’s pace–voiced his concerns of a possible fever. 

You felt your husband smirk, and you kept your eyes forward. 

The handmaidens were stunned to the stone when you entered, watching as Aemond moved to place you on the bed. He seemed well aware of the eyes on you both, and he reached to take your hand, bringing it to his lips, so close you felt his exhale, this ghost of a kiss. He then moved away to allow them to fret and your eyes followed after him, taking in his stilted posture, his hands crossed and rested on his lower back. 

The heat of his gaze was melting you into the linen. 

“You must rest.” The elder maester was flustering, mistaking the close scrutiny of the one-eyed prince. His skin was blotched with reds as he called crow that you were clearly with child; he was insistent on bedrest. 

The blood drained away from your blank expression, a scalding pour into your heart that was slamming against your ribs. You felt sick from his words, muted as the maester turned to offer his congratulations to your husband. 

Aemond kept his gaze fixated on you. His jaw steeled with a tension that spread to hold him in place. “You must do as he says,” his tone was leveled, tight, “ābrazȳrys.” 

You were commanded to remain in bed, left with a searing panic that stricken your bones and left you pinned to the mattress, a fear that throttled your throat of your paternal doubt for the babe you carried. There was ill-comfort in the memory, a silver haired child all the same–it only churned your insides. 

You were isolated as neither your husband, nor Aegon, visited you. Only once did the Lord Hand come by to express his pleasure at the prospect of another princess or princeling to be added to the growing lineage. 

No one else came. 

But you did not flourish with life. Instead your cycle came with a vengeance, and it was the same damn maester who returned with his sheepish admittance that he may have been wrong. “You can always try again, princess,” his eyes crinkled with his well-intentioned words while your insides curdled with its white-hot pain. 

Rest, he insisted once again, along with a cup of wine to help soothe your nerves. 

Alone again, the silence was near deafening until you decided to embrace the reprieve from the courts. Your days were spent abed while warmed stones were rotated from the hearth and pressed against your lower abdomen. You had a cup of Arbor Red for breakfast and supper, listening to your handmaidens' gossip about the latest skirts sent to the Red Keep to ensnare the king. 

You were not bothered by this, as you felt certain you could reclaim his affection again. And when your moon cycle finished, you requested a hot bath with oils from Essos and rose petals that floated on the milky surface. You asked for your silk finery, adding touches of exotic scents dabbed behind your neck and on your wrists. 

After you dismissed them for the night, you slipped on your robe and slippers, moving to the passageway Aegon had shown you. 

The torches were lit and low, a soft amber light to guide you. Your hand pressed to the cobblestones and cobwebs, your mind flitting to when Aegon first showed you this secret, how he pressed you against the very same wall, the heat of his body pinning you and his mouth capturing your own–

You blinked when you saw a Cargyll knight posted. 

“Forgive me princess,” he said with a pity that shimmered in his eyes. “The king has company tonight. I have been told he will not be interrupted, under any circumstance.”

The White Cloak then returned you to your room, leaving you to pour your sorrow in the chalice you now held. In truth, you were not mourning the inevitable end, but more so the freedom it had allowed you within King’s Landing. You would not fault Aegon–you knew firsthand that his passion was insatiable, notorious throughout the kingdoms. You also knew that the lords were desperate to catch his violet gaze, anything to align their house within the growing Targaryen dynasty. 

Your second cup soured your blood and you felt your vexation pouring into your heart, smoldering. You blamed Aemond. It was his fault that his infidelities pushed you to find your own pleasure, and his unjust jealousy kept you isolated–your own handmaidens had been shy to admit your lord husband guarded every entrance during your bedrest.

A dragon hoarding, you fumed. 

And for what purpose? He still had not even visited you since the day you were bedridden. 

This curiosity burned alongside your ire, something overwhelming that mixed with the wine that flushed your skin. You finished the last bit, grabbing your silk robe once more and throwing open your door to find the other Cargyll knight posted. 

He paled. “Princess.” 

“I wish to see my husband,” your tone was curt and left no room for negotiation. 

The soft clinks of his armor shadowed your steps, stopping once you arrived at Aemond’s door. It was unguarded and you recalled that fateful night. You were frozen, your muscles tensing and ticking before you regained enough control to give a sharp look over your shoulder. 

“You are no longer needed.” Your words felt thick on your tongue. The White Cloak was quick to leave and your skirt billowed with your final steps to move and open the door. 

Aemond was seated in a leather armchair placed in front of a large, oak desk. He was hunched over with his same studious furrow of his silver brow, a collection of parchment and ink, old books and tomes sprawled across. The glow from the hearth poured golden over him, touching the hard planes of his chest that peeked through his unbuttoned cotton nightshirt, and a yellow hue to his silver hair worn in a single braid, slung over his shoulder. 

He stopped and looked up to you, his bicolored gaze focused–one lavender and one sapphire–as though he had been expecting you.

You felt unnerved, the thought of returning to your room fluttering through your wine-addled mind. Instead, you closed the heavy doors behind you. “Lord husband.” It spilled thick from your stained lips, your liquid courage coaxing your steps closer towards him. 

He turned to face you, wood scratching the stone floor, his svelte slouch back in the chair that allowed you to see how far undone his shirt truly was. Your eyes trailed, your blood warming. 

He smirked. “Good evening, ābrazȳrys.”

It cut through you with the same acidity as the last night he sought you out. Now you were the one unforced in his chambers–pristine and dark and decorated with his ancestry–watching the cruel curl of his lips as he continued. “Perhaps you are lost? I know that the king handles your affairs these nights.” 

Your face twisted, blood rising and tears threatening with his chosen words. You managed to hold your tone. “I do not wish for the king,” your voice was soft, “but I wish for my husband.” 

He scoffed but it only emboldened you, burning hot through your veins and spilling from your lips. “I come to fulfill what is expected of us, but also for you to finish what you teased the last night we shared together.” 

Aemond looked at you, stunned by your boldness, a rose dusting across his sharp features and his lips pursed. 

You could not stop. The dam was bursting. “You dared give me a taste of something I did not think even possible within this marriage, and now I want it, I crave it.” Your tone rose. “I want that passion that you tormented me with. I want that same passion that you poured into the queen–!” 

You made a soft noise, your fingers flying to touch your lips, to scoop up what was said and swallow it again. The wine betrayed you and all you could do was watch, wide eyed, for how your husband would respond. 

Aemond held still, carved marble poised. His fingers touched his chin while his one eye flitted to you and then away. “You have no idea what you are saying–” 

It was your turn to scoff. You moved closer, your fingers touching the edge of the desk and following around, forcing yourself in his line of sight. “I saw you.” Your voice cracked with emotion, with a betrayal that ran so hot and so deep, surfacing again in the privacy of his quarters. “I saw you with her.”

You stopped yourself to gather the sorrow that threatened to release, pulling your anger back by the fistfuls and holding it tight behind your ribs; it burned. “I just…” you swallowed. “Well, it does not matter now. But know your actions are why I sought out my own comfort. I admit my sins, but I also know yours, husband.”

Silence settled thick, punctuated with the sounds of the embers, of the drawers opening and paper rustling, the clink of the top of the inkwell placed back. Your eyes were drawn to his slender fingers that fidgeted to straighten up the desk. When he finished, only then did Aemond look back to you, reconsidering you, his severity set beneath the red that now stained his cheeks. 

“What is it that you want?” He was not angry, but almost curious. 

You had not been asked this before. It was a torrid rush of sequential memories that poured over, pulling you to this moment–your initial optimism when you first came to King’s Landing, carrying your girlish idylls and romanticism that came knitted with the announcement of your betrothal to a Targaryen prince. You mistook his dutiful acts and his diligence for acts of devotion.

How you had wished, how you had hoped that it would become more–!

His touch grounded you, those same slender fingers wrapping around your wrist of the hand resting on the desk. You tilted your chin to look at him, a forceful rhythm of your heart trying to burst from your chest. 

You swallowed again. “I am your wife,” you moved closer, closer with your velvet tone. “I am yours, Aemond. 

You dared touch him, your hand breaking his hold and your fingers pressing to his chin, following the unmarred side. His lips parted, a moment to understand the affection shown and he surrendered to it. His face turned to your open palm, his breath tickling your wrist. You felt a heat that began to curl at the base of your spine, gooseflesh prickling your skin. 

His breath hitched as you leaned forward, allowing your neckline to dip, showing a hint of what was prepared beneath your silk. Your lips touched his ear. “I want you to show me what it is that you truly desire.” 

It erupted and he pushed from the desk, his composure cracking and his chest heaving, caging you to the edge with his hands pressed on either side until his knuckles showed white. You remained rooted, unflinching, unafraid to watch as the fire seared throughout, his nostrils flaring with whatever he battled within his mind. 

A decision was made with a kiss. Aemond crashed against you with a passion that you were quick to reciprocate. His arms moved to wrap around and pull you into his chest, his heat burning through the cotton, a clash of teeth and lips and his tongue–the same that carved into your cunt with a precision that allowed you a glimpse of the heavens, now curled to pull a moan from the back of your throat. 

His mouth moved, hot and demanding, open-mouth kisses that trailed your jaw and nipping on the curve of your neck. You were panting, you were alight. “What I desire,” his voice husked against your skin, in-between the assault of his lips, “I desire your taste on my tongue.”

You mewled, your fingers carving into his shoulder blades to hold yourself upright. His large hands roamed to the softness of your backside, lifting you enough to set you on top of his desk. You were breathless as his fingers dimpled into your plush thighs, splitting them apart to knit his slender waist between, claiming your mouth once again. 

Aemond settled into the cradle of your hips, pressing at his seams with a hardness that rubbed against your core. You moaned again, louder, your legs lifting to wrap around him and pull him closer, but he pulled back, kneeling in front of you. “Aemond–?”

His hands tore the silk so your legs would spread further, and you leaned back, propping yourself on your elbows. Your chin tucked to your chest, rapt to watch the black that swallowed the lavender of his eye, the slow rise and fall of his chest, his hummed satisfaction to see that you were bare beneath; the night air was cool against your cunt, your arousal surely glistening in the candlelight. 

You pushed up again, one handful of his shirt to pull him closer for another kiss, slower, softer, searching until he groaned against your mouth. You broke away, your lips swollen. “Who am I to deny my husband what he desires?”

His lips curled as he lowered himself, his hands slipping underneath your thighs to hold, moving close enough to lick up your slit. It jolted through you and you shuddered with his kiss to the bloom of nerves above. 

“Relax,” he breathed against your sensitive skin, and you rested back onto your elbows.

You watched the shimmer of his hair as his head tucked between, his tongue pressing to split your folds and curling upwards. You moaned, your back arching, and his fingers bit into your thighs, holding as he pressed closer, until his nose rubbed against you in a way that elicited a reborn passion that seared through your veins.

You lifted your legs to press the soles of your feet onto his broad shoulders, and he moved one hand, pressing to the inside of your thighs and trailing closer towards your heat. He suckled his fingers before they pushed into you, a new intensity that curled your toes into his skin. 

“Aemond–!” Your hands grasped to hold yourself closer, your fingernails combing through his hair with a light scratch against his scalp. 

He hummed against your cunt, pressing his fingers deeper with a delicious stretch, with a familiarity that made you whine. He touched something within you that reborn the very passion haunting you for weeks, something your core craved ever since that night… 

Aemond pushed you towards that precipice and your lungs ached with your bated breath, allowing enough for his name to spill like a fevered prayer, begging with your unabandon want. “Please, please–”

It was a delicious tandem of his mouth and tongue and his slender fingers splitting you open, a blossoming release that sparked at the base of your spine, a euphoria ripping through you and pulling you from your body. 

Your legs were still shaking as Aemond moved to drape them over the edge of the desk. He towered over you, his sharp chin gleaming from your release. He looked at you. “I believed I married a shy and demure girl from a noble house,” his tone was dark, but teasing. He leaned over you, his eye glittering like the sapphire stone in his scarred socket. “I tried to be careful and courteous, as though you would break.” 

You reached for him, your fingers carding through his hair and curling into the nape of his neck, pulling him close for another consuming kiss. Passion rumbled your bones with the taste of yourself on his lips, heating the marrow and pouring into your core once again. 

“Break me, Aemond,” you breathed against his lips. 

His drawstrings were loosened enough, shifting to press himself to your silken folds, his length spearing you through to the desk. Your body was pliant, wanting, but you still stretched to mold around him. Aemond groaned, another powerful thrust to sheath himself fully into your heat. 

You shuddered, your nipples pebbling, and you clenched. 

Aemond paused, his jaw tight as he looked you over. His silver hair spilled from the braid, cascading over his shoulders, and he leaned forward to kiss you again, his tresses tickling your skin. 

You sighed, you shifted, wrapping your legs around his narrow waist, and he pressed forward, pressed deeper. “Gods,” his head tucked into the curve of your neck, his words rumbling through you, “you were made for me.” 

You could only mewl in reply, overwhelmed with the powerful pace he set, sparking bright in front of your eyes as his hip bones bruised against you. It pulled something deeper and you swore it was too much. “Please, Aemond, I cannot–”

“You can and you will, until I am finished with you.” You felt his smile curving against your neck, prickling your skin with the pleasure that thrummed beneath. “But I promise, dōna ābrazȳrys, I will never let you go now–”

He pulled back, his hands grabbing into your hips to hold as he snapped against you. Your cunt suctioned to bring him closer and he complied, a brutal pace that sparked a new euphoria that simmered to the surface. You felt drunk on the pleasure threatening, a slickness that was spilling between your thighs. 

“I can feel you,” he taunted, breathless and flushed. His hand pressed to your lower abdomen, his fingers spreading lower until his thumb slipped between your folds, slow circles to your bundle of nerves that increased with his thrusts. “Have you been so deprived, dōna ābrazȳrys–” 

You could not hear him, not with how your blood roared in your ears as that passion imploded with a white-hot rapture. You shattered beneath him, a pleasure trilling through your nerves and your veins, spreading to every fiber of your being, a thousand pieces strewn across the oak desk. 

Aemond groaned above you, spilling hot, his cock throbbing in rhythm with his heartbeat. You blinked to focus, your lashes wet from your tears. He looked down at you, bending over until his face pressed to your chest, his lips littering you with careful kisses as he softened and slipped from your cunt. 

You felt the spill, sticky between your thighs, your skin aflame with every press of his lips. Aemond pushed up, but not before slipping his arm under the arch of your back, pulling you up with him. His hands moved to cradle your face, another kiss to draw your breath. 

“Stay,” he whispered, “but only if you want.” 

You nodded in a daze, watching as he moved around you: a damp cloth that wiped away his spend, his fingers curling beneath your chin as he placed another kiss on your forehead. He pulled away the last of your silk, and you nestled under his sheets, your body bare and molding to your husband, enjoying the heat that permeated from him and the rhythm of his heart against his skin. 

It was a new beginning with the same characters, that which included the damn maester who would later announce that you were, in fact, pregnant.

Only this time, you would hold no paternal doubt for the silver haired babe you were surely carrying. 

Only If For A Night masterlist arcie's navi | HotD masterlist

[honeytonedhottie]

signature scents⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🧁🍰

my signature scent is a mixture between sweets and gourmand smells. im an absolute sucker for a vanilla + gourmand blend and honestly, anything that smells sweet and like a bakery, I ABSOLUTELY NEED IT…💬🎀

NOTES I LOVE AND LOOK FOR ;

❤︎ pink icing

fragrances that include pink icing as a scent note -> bath and body works confetti cake pop.

❤︎ cotton candy

fragrances that include cotton candy as a scent note -> unicorn milkshake by the dua brand

❤︎ marshmallow

FRAGRANCES THAT I ALREADY HAVE AND LOVE + THEIR NOTES ;

❤︎ strawberry poundcake cake (bath and body work) the notes are strawberry, cupcake and whipped cream

❤︎ tease creme cloud (victorias secret) the notes are meringue, vanilla, sandalwood flower, musk and amber

❤︎ delina la rosée (parfums de marly) the notes are litchi, pear, turkish rose, white musk, woody notes and peony

❤︎ choco musk (al-rehab) the notes are vanilla, milk chocolate, white musk, and amber

❤︎ sweet tooth (sabrina carpenter) the notes are, marshmallow, madgascar vanilla, whipped cream, sugar and musk

[qwimchii]

Could I request a fanfic where reader has an aversion of men (due to trauma) and her coping mechanism is to regard men as an "it" so she can get through day to day. When she's assigned to work alongside Task Force 141, she tends to get the most along with Ghost because it's easier to talk to him due to his mask and also simply because he's not very chatty and touchy. And through her time working alongside him, she falls in love?

If requests are closed please disregard this! I love your writing, thank you!

𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘴 (pt 1) — 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺

pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5

𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘤𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯!𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘱. 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘭. 𝘸𝘤 — 3.3k

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, (𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭) 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘸𝘸 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘯𝘯𝘯, 𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘬𝘦𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭, 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘶𝘮𝘢 & 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘶𝘮𝘢 & 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘦𝘴, 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘺(𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘭𝘮𝘢𝘰), 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺 𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘦𝘴, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 :(

note: im so sorry for taking so long on this anon!!!! but i loved the idea so much that i ended up making this a multipart series in honor of friday oct 13 & halloween.... 🤭 also i know that you requested her to be on the 141 task force but i ended up amending that a bit so i hope that's alright?? anyways enjoy lovies!

you walked down the sidewalk, a pool of cold sweat collecting at your back. it was freezing outside—the midst of a fall unfurling across the landscape, orange leaves crunching underfoot as you approached the church looming in the distance. the glare of a car’s lights illuminated the white structure as it passed.

we’re adding a new person to the support group, Kate had texted into the groupchat a few hours before the meeting. Sarah had added a bunch of flowery heart emojis after it, saying how excited she would be to meet the new person.

the dread continued to drip down your back in a sweat.

in response, you had texted back a flat: why?

you knew what you were doing was considered plain mean. 

you checked your phone again, the glare of it burning your eyes in the darkness. still no response to your text—no doubt purposeful on Kate’s part.

but this support group had become…

you strode through the church parking lot, shivering, and walked up a set of concrete steps, swinging the heavy, brass knuckled entrance open.

…special to you.

as you entered the familiar chapel, the old musk of the building a comforting scent now, you adjusted to the dim, warm light dispersed overhead before moving towards the basement steps.

your aversion of men wasn’t foreign to your closest friends and family. you knew it was a nuisance to them, but your past betrayed you, and sometimes, on the darkest nights like this, you could feel the tendrils of your trauma clutching at you.

you used to go to church with your father too. now, you would avoid any church like the plague, save for this one.

you made your way down the steps to the basement—the musk of mold and age drifting through the place. 

the girls in your support group had become much more than just a kind word. they were your friends. they accepted your strange quirks without so much as the bat of an eye.

adding a newcomer… complicated things. things like closing yourself off again, getting jittery and nervous every time you even spoke in front of the group, overwhelming you to the point of quitting entirely.

it had happened three times already but Kate had coaxed you back every time someone new joined. eventually, you had come to accept each of them. but it was no less difficult.

passing through the long, carpeted hallway, miscellaneous boxes here and there, you neared a familiar wooden double-door.

Kate rounded the corner on the far side of the hallway and gave you an easy, but tired, smile. she was holding some papers as she strode up to you.

“hey honey,” she called, patting your cheek gently in greeting when she neared you. “you’re early.”

you shrugged. “i’m always early.” 

to these meetings at least, you didn’t voice, you wouldn’t miss them for the world.

Kate swallowed, then nodded, brushing back the strands of blonde wisps that fell into her eyes. “i know.”

you cocked your brow. she was acting strange—avoiding your eyes, and swallowing up words she wasn’t saying.

“Kate,” you said, tongue feeling heavy, “what’s this new person thing about?”

she bit her lip, finally meeting your eyes. “apparently, the newcomer has a habit of being early too.”

your brows rose. “yeah? let me meet them—”

your hand itched towards the knob of the door, but Kate stepped in front of you, blocking your way to the entrance.

your eyes were narrowed now. shifting on your feet, you tried to doge the petite woman, but she swatted at you, side stepping so that her back was flush with the door now. 

“what are you doing?” you asked with an amused huff, bewildered by her strange behavior. 

“is the newcomer a bit of an oddball?” you offered, your brow furrowing when she tilted her head.

“not exactly.”

you nodded slowly, trying your absolute best to appear optimistic with an indifferent shrug. “s’fine to me. we’re all a bit strange.”

definitely strange, that voice in you sang. you tried not to feel offended by your own mind.

Kate’s head dropped, breathing out a long and heavy sigh, before her blue eyes were on yours again. “just… don’t run away.”

“she can’t be that bad can she?” you asked with a laugh, a new muddled swirl of something dark and alarming pooling in your stomach.

Kate shrugged and that made you really nervous. she swung the heavy door open and stepped inside, disappearing from sight into the meeting room.

you stood there for a good moment, fumbling with your hands before, and you made it halfway through the doorway before— 

you saw a man.

you stopped short. he was huge—muscular, no doubt, under several layers of black attire, body dwarfing the folding chair he was sitting on. half of his face was shrouded by a black surgical mask, hood drawn up, the cords of his earbuds trailing into the pocket of his black sweatshirt where his hands were shoved into.

immediately, you slammed the door shut.

turning on your heel and making your way back down the hall, you only hurried when you heard the door fling open behind you and quick footsteps following that.

“wait!” Kate called, and you covered your hands with your ears.

apparently, Kate was faster than you, because her hand was grabbing a fistful of your clothes before you knew it, and you reeled on her, seething, “i’m not going in there.”

apparently Kate was stronger than you, too, because she started half-dragging you back down the hallway and hissing through gritted teeth, “like hell you have a choice!”

“no—don’t want to—!”

by the time she had dragged you all the way back down the hallway, your shoes desperately scrambling against the carpet, panting with exertion, you had accepted defeat.

she still loosely clutched at the collar of your shirt, for fear that you may run again, and you swatted her hand away, fixing the wrinkles of your clothes as she brushed back her hair with a deep scowl and closed eyes.

when she gave you a side long look full of bitterness, your face scrunched, sending her the nastiest expression you could muster, hands balled into fists.

she completely ignored you, jerking her head in the direction of the open doors. “go.”

it wasn’t a request.

you bit down on your tongue hard, and with the most dramatic sigh you could muster, you sulked into the room, completely ignoring the man sitting within a circle of chairs.

Kate tutted behind you, half-pushing you out of the way to the desks shoved into the corner of the room. you trailed after her, watching her set down the now crumpled papers, smooth them out, stuff them into cardboard boxes, and then reorganize the boxes. 

you searched for the words.

“you didn’t tell me that person was…” 

a man.

you looked back over to the hulking man leaning back in the rickety, tin folding chair. it creaked under his weight, and he cocked his head, eyes shut like he was sleeping. you didn’t really care if he heard you or not.

rather immaturely, you rephrased the sentence. “you didn’t tell me it was—”

Kate shot you a look that immediately shut you up. “anyone can come to our support groups, missy. you know that.”

you rolled your eyes. you knew that. but still.

“but…” you couldn’t find the words to say.

she sighed out, moving the box of papers to an adjacent desk. “and i thought this would be a good thing,” she grumbled. 

your eyes snapped to her the back of her blonde head, a keen suspicion brewing in your throat. “good thing?”

she turned back to you, hand on her hip. “yeah. a good thing.”

it was a deadpan.

“honey, you’ve been in this group the longest, and we’ve been struggling with this i hate men thing since the beginning.”

you flinched. ouch.

she was right but that didn't make it any easier to come to terms with, and luckily for you, you were stubborn as hell.

“so?” you said with a shrug, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jeans.

“see?” she said, gesturing to your stiff posture, “you’re getting defensive.”

you blinked. “no i’m not.”

she let out a laugh but it was mirthless—more of a frustrated huff. “since you’ve been here the longest, i’m gonna need you to do something for me, honey.”

your voice was strained. “do what?”

she pointed to the man, whose eyes were still closed, and hissed at you in a half-whisper, “you’re going to talk to him first, introduce yourself, get his name and occupation, and then you’re gonna introduce him to the rest of the group yourself.”

your skin crawled with disgust at the idea. Kate always did introductions. not you.

you stepped forward, opening your mouth to protest but—

she held up a hand in your face and skirted around you. “no. i don’t care what you have to say. this is how we improve, honey.”

you know that she wanted to say you.

you stood stock still behind the desk, seething, clenching and unclenching your fists as you heard Kate disappear from the room. leaving you alone with that thing.

turning on your heel, you jolted when the man’s gaze was already on you, half-lidded and piercing. his eyes had a dark, grayish film to them—brown with a murky depth.

it took everything in you not to snap at him to look away.

sighing out with exasperation, you rolled your shoulders and neck, and took stiff strides towards him. you hesitated mid-stride when he lazily looked away, seeming like he was just going to try and ignore you. that irked you even more.

you stood right in front of him so he couldn’t look anywhere else. you saw the furrow of his brow, the snap of his eyes up to yours in a hard glare, and felt a pleasant curl of satisfaction soothe you.

“hi,” you said, voice rough, as you shoved your hands back into your pockets.

he shifted in his chair, tilting his head back at you, taking you in fully. you wanted to slap that look off his face. 

arrogant asshole.

his accent was thick and grating. “hi.”

after a long moment of tense silence, his eyes narrowed. “you got a name?”

you gave him a sweet smile. “nope. yours?”

his brows rose slightly, something playful flashing in his dark eyes.

you cringed. was he smiling? 

that was not your intent.

“Simon Riley,” he said curt, “but i prefer Ghost.”

you ignored him, scratching at your neck, ready to get this over with. “right, Simon, welcome to the support group. i guess.”

he stared at you. “thanks.”

suddenly, his gaze felt too heavy and awkward on you. something dark and miry drenched your heart, tugging it down with a weight. it felt unfamiliar and strange. something bordering on regret or guilt.

fumbling with your hands, you stepped back and found a chair on the very opposite side of the circle. the very opposite side.

his eyes were still locked onto you, and you crossed your arms, looking anywhere but him, the carpeted floor, the peeling posters plastered with religious slogans on the wall, Kate’s desk, the entrance of the room where Sarah and Maya stepped in. 

seeing them was like a release, and that ugly thing weighing down your heart was lifted. Sarah gave you a beaming smile, waving enthusiastically with a loud greeting. Maya trailed behind, giving you a soft, shy smile.

both of them edged around Simon and flanked your sides in the seats.

you watched her glance to Simon, eyes wide, then looking back at you. there was something like apprehension in her face.

she mouthed, is this the new person?

you glanced to him. he was barely registering the other two girls in the room, eyes untrained and looking somewhere else, black boots crossing over each other.

with a bitter feeling, you nodded at Sarah and she clutched at her mouth, sharing a look with Maya who was perfectly undisturbed by the newcomer’s presence.

Sarah, being Sarah, sat up straighter in her seat and leaned forward, waving a hand to get Simon’s attention.

“hi,” she called with a soft voice, smiling big. “i’m Sarah.”

Simon dipped his head politely. “nice to meet you.”

you scowled. where were his manners before? 

though, you thought meekly, you hadn’t really showed your best manners either.

sighing out, you watched Sarah and Maya launch into a conversation with him that you refused to join, withering into your chair. all his responses were polite, curt, and bordering on uninterested.

“what are you listening to?” Maya asked in that soft angelic tone of hers, and Simon took out his earbuds.

“smashing pumpkins.”

Sarah gasped, gesturing to your face with a wild hand that almost knocked against your chin. “that’s her favorite band!”

Simon’s gaze snapped to you, and you felt like puking. 

fumbling for words, you protested in a tone too strong. “no it’s not.”

Sarah gave you a confused look. “but we went to their concert last summer remember? in las vegas?”

oh you remembered. you specifically remembered because their band was getting old and their farewell tour felt like a looming threat in the near future. you remembered because you wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

but you couldn’t say that so instead you said, “no, my favorite band is… is…”

you glanced at Maya’s curious expression. 

“taylor swift,” you shot out.

you grimaced. that’s not even a band.

Maya cocked her head. “no, taylor swift is my favorite singer.” she gave you a knowing look. “and you love the smashing pumpkins.”

she turned to Simon. “she even has posters in her room.”

you groaned out, slumping further down into your chair and wanting to disintegrate on the spot as Maya continued to talk about your avid love for smashing pumpkins. but Simon’s gaze was pinned on you. it didn’t even look like he was listening.

you pretended you were invisible for the rest of the conversation until the rest of the girls had trickled into the room, watching with a curling disgust at the sight of them fawning over Simon and his alluring presence. he seemed indifferent enough to their attention.

not like you cared. 

the circle slowly filled till Kate took the last spot.

she had a stack of papers on her lap, smoothing over them with that tight-lipped smile of hers as she started the meeting.

her words were flying through your ears. words you didn’t really want to hear as you tugged on the hem of your hoodie, slumped over in your chair.

you didn’t hear her calling your name either.

Sarah knocked her foot against yours and you shot up in your seat, flushing when you noticed everyone’s attention on you.

your eyes darted around the room, feeling hyper aware of Simon’s blank, bored stare sweeping down your body.

“hi,” Kate said in a sweet tone, leaned forward in her seat, though her face was laced through and through with that burning exasperation that you were too familiar with.

“since you were the first to acquaint yourself with our guest,” she said, gesturing with a polite hand to that big masked thing on a chair, “we would love for you to introduce the new member to us.”

shifting to sit further up in your chair, you swallowed, voice falling flat and dead. “sure. this is Simon. he’s uhh…”

you took him in and all his hulking demeanor. “an accountant.”

his eyes flashed with that same look as before—something playful that really pissed you off.

Sarah snorted and Kate just smiled, though it was wholly devoid of warmth, and you resisted shivering. “right. i’ll do it then.”

she looked around the circle slowly. “this is Simon Riley. he’s in the military. i met him a couple years back.”

your eyes snapped to Kate’s, a whole new sense of betrayal swelling in your chest. she had already known him and wanted you to introduce him anyway?

“traitor,” you grumbled under your breath, crossing your arms over your chest.

the girls, in a chorus, sang out a hi Simon, a couple of them giggling, poking at each other. you noticed Maya blushing beside you and rolled your eyes.

was he really that attractive?

he just nodded, with a very low, “hello,” and sat up properly, drawing back his hood.

there was a light tussle of blonde hair on his head, shaved down at the sides and hanging down his forehead.

you bit your tongue, looking away. maybe he was.

“welcome Simon,” Kate said with a gentle smile, “i’m glad you decided to come.”

there was something knowing in her gaze when Simon’s eyes darted to hers that had a new curiosity perk up in you.

you watched the whole interaction with narrowed eyes.

just how well did they know each other?

as Kate dished out the upcoming schedule for the group, your gaze burned into his face. his eyes, trained on Kate, made you jolt when they flicked to you.

he slowly tilted his head, eyes narrowing a smidge. you frowned deeply, and in a stubborn haze, met his piercing gaze with one of equal stature. after a long moment, he huffed, a weird breathy sound, eyes flashing again, and looked away, and the moment you shared was gone.

you shifted in your seat, blinking, feeling strange and light.

what the hell was that?

you looked around, seeing if anyone else noticed. when you were sure no one had, you scolded yourself. 

no fraternizing with the enemy, you chided, shifting your attention back to Kate who was listing off the predetermined pairs for the fall session. Kate always claimed that she pulled the pair choices out of a hat. the fact that you had never been paired with Maya or Sarah for a single season left you questioning that.

besides that, many of the sessions required getting one-on-one quality time with other group members through predetermined partners and different activities, even outside of group meetings. the fall session was always the busiest, preparing for upcoming events with weekly meetings.

it was something unique to your group which you wholly appreciated.

your gaze flitted to Simon.

except for when there’s newcomers.

“finally, you,” Kate nodded her head to you with a bitter tone, which made you wince, although you knew guessed you deserved it, “and Simon.”

what?

“what?” you croaked, and you visibly saw the girls in the room shift with discomfort, gazes avoiding you.

they had seen your immature outbursts before about newcomers. you were not afraid to show them again.

Kate gave you a very nasty sidelong look. “don’t start.”

you bit your tongue so hard you think it almost bled.

Maya’s hands fidgeted with the hem of her skirt, looking a bit crestfallen at the conclusion designated pairs, and in the sweetest tone you could muster, you offered, “what about Maya?”

her head whipped to you, jaw dropping open and a flush on her cheeks. you sent her a weak, apologetic look, sneaking a hand over to hers but she just smacked it away.

Simon only laxed back into his chair, blinking slowly like he was about to fall asleep, gaze flitting lazily between you and the bashful girl beside you. when his eyes lingered on her, you truely, utterly, wished with every fiber of your being that Simon had been paired with Maya instead.

Kate just ignored you, sorting through papers to find the next one that she read aloud. more on the upcoming fall activities that you would be helping the church with.

usually you’d be ecstatic.

but when your gaze fell on Simon, lazy, hulking, and donned in black, he cocked his head at you, eyes swirling. then, he put his earbuds back in, eyes sliding shut.

you jerked your hood up over your head and sulked.

this was going to be the worst few weeks yet.

okayyyy soooo i wanted to make these chapters shorter and ive already prepared quite a few so i'll be posting every 1-2 days for this series leading up to halloween!!!! im so excited 🤭 i hope you guys enjoyed this first silly part <3 more silly parts to come!

taglist: @ivybeeloved @babygirl-riley

[huellitaa]

pretty girl winter 🧁❄️🎀

ok so winter is my FAVOURITE season ever!! i am THE christmas girl of all time and i wna make this the most beautiful pink christmas ever! and i am so excited to spend it with my favourite people ever (my tumblr girls) ❄️🩷

🧁𓂃 ࣪˖ winter music ♡

sweet dreams, tomorrow x together

last christmas, ariana grande

sleigh ride, the ronettes

merry & happy, twice

beautiful christmas, red velvet / aespa

santa tell me, ariana grande

doughnut, twice

winter wonderland, beabadoobee

jingle bell rock, bobby helms / aespa

rocking around the christmas tree, brenda lee

let it snow! let it snow! let it snow!, dean martin

have yourself a merry little christmas, judy garland

christmas dreaming, laufey

one more sleep, leona lewis

cindy lou who, sabrina carpenter

(🎀🗒 note: i also have a playlist filled with lots of these songs and music here! ♡)

🎀𓂃 ࣪˖ winter beauty ♡

moisturiser moisturiser moisturiser. hand cream is also a must so they dont get cracked and dry, especially in the winter! ❄️🫶🏻🩷

i dont take cold showers in the winter bcuz i get ill easily , so i always take warm showers w 30 seconds of cold at the end 💭🎀💗

vanilla, cinnamon, musk, chocolate, pomegranate, cherry, pudding and sweet, rich scents 💭🐧🫶🏻

makeup in pale pink, white, soft gold, silver, lots of sparkles, dewy and light

red lip gloss / stick is an essential! 💭🎀

🎄𓂃 ࣪˖ winter fashion ♡

fluffy coats!!!!! i personally love my massive black trenchcoat its v cute

scarves, hats, gloves, etc ♡ 🎀🧸

leggings, tights, long socks, leg warmers, etc. (i esp love sheer tights!)💭

anything faux-fur lined

pink, silver, gold, and white ♡

boots, uggs, doc martens, clunky shoes!

🎀💭❄️ simple formula to a cute winter fit:

skirt -> tights -> long sleeves -> coat -> shoes

(long sleeves can be anything from turtleneck to jumper, tights can be leggings / long socks or whatever you like, and the same goes for shoes! this is an easily versatile idea, not one size fits all 🫶🏻)

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ winter movies ♡

muppet christmas carol!!!!!♡ my fav ever

the nightmare before christmas

beauty and the beast: the enchanted christmas

the miracle on 34th street

the grinch (live and animated)

jingle all the way

the polar express

home alone

mean girls (not a christmas film, but the jingle bell rock scene is iconic)

(🎀🗒 note: one thing i like to do is compile a list of all ur favourite shows and their christmas / winter episodes and just binge watch all of them!! 🩷🫶🏻🎄🧸)

🌨𓂃 ࣪˖ winter activities ♡

i love journalling and scrapbooking at any time of year, but i feel like it's always extra cosy in winter! playing some christmas music, cuddling up in pink pyjamas and journalling 🫶🏻🎀🩷

anything to do with baking and hot food is so cosy; gingerbread houses and hot chocolate, christmas cupcakes !! 🎄🫶🏻

i dont really know what category this falls into, but around christmas time i always love to make things about my family and friends; painting, decorating photos and hanging them up, journalling about them, and so on ! 💭💝❄️

make a list of all the people you're getting christmas presents for this year and compile a little bundle of things for them! 💗💭

learn about old winter tales and folklore, fron your culture or from others 🌨🎀

take up sewing, knitting, crocheting, etc. even if you've never done it before 🩷🧸

christmas market hopping!!!!!! one of my favourite things to do in winter is go out with my friends, go shopping and just browse the stalls bcuz theyre always so cute and cosy 🧁🐧💗

writing & making christmas cards ❄️🎀

unnecessary acts of kindness! this should go without saying for majority of the time, but i always love to go the extra mile during christmas to keep with the spirit and everything 🫶🏻🧸🎄

ice skating. obviously. i wanna go w my friends this year !!! 🎀⛸️🧁☃️

all my love, and happy december! 🎄🎀🫶🏻💗