#spicechica

[spicechica]

older!boyfriend cordell x chubby reader

I need a older boyfriend Cordell with curvy/chubby younger reader. I need this man biblically and physically. I need him to pick me up by my thighs and toss me like a rag doll. Somebody please make this fic. I just know cordell would be all over chubby reader, I need some smuttyness. Cowboy x chubby reader concept.

[spicechica]

Can we have a Headcanon of Wade Felton From House of wax, I’m on the spectrum and I wanna see if Wade dates an Autistic person?

●Wade is 100% a soft-spoken golden retriever boyfriend. He’s awkward at first but sincere — you always know when he’s nervous because he runs his fingers through his hair and avoids eye contact before stammering out compliments like, "You look… really nice. I mean, you always look nice. But, like, today especially.”

●Wade smells like cedar, car grease, and clean cotton. His hoodies are big, soft, and instantly feel like safety. He never minds if you wear them. In fact, he’ll tug the hood up over your head if he sees you getting overstimulated.

●He genuinely listens when you infodump. Like, he’ll sit cross-legged on the floor, eyes wide, completely focused while you talk about your latest hyperfixation or interest.

●He remembers the details. If you say you like a certain snack, a texture, or a scent, it’ll magically show up in your space later. Wade might not always say “I love you” every day, but he shows it in ways that feel quiet and specific — bringing you your favorite drink without asking, or adjusting the heater because he noticed your hands were cold.

●If physical touch isn’t always your thing, Wade learns your boundaries and respects them without needing them explained over and over. He offers things like weighted blankets, grounding tools, or soft textured gifts without making a big deal out of it.

●He’ll let you sit in his lap while he works on cars and will give you a kiss on the temple even if he’s covered in grease. "Sorry if I got you dirty," he’ll say, but you can see the proud smile he hides after.

●Wade buys you knick-knacks that remind him of you. A charm bracelet. A cracked Polaroid camera. A stuffed animal from a claw machine. “It just looked like something you’d like.”

●Wade’s a huge horror movie buff, slashers, psychological thrillers, campy 80s gore, he loves it all. You come over and he’s already queued up a stack of DVDs or has a horror marathon streaming. He’s been thinking about it all week.

●He always keeps a hair tie for you in his pocket, just in case. If you forget yours? Boom. Wade’s got you.

●He calls you “short stuff,” “trouble,” and sometimes just “babe” in the softest voice, but when he’s really smitten, he’ll say your name like it’s his favorite word.

●Impromptu late-night drives with no destination. Music playing low, your hand resting in his over the gear shift. You stop for gas station snacks and make it a mini-date — sitting in the parking lot, sharing sour candy and slushies.

●Wade is deeply patient. If you need silence, time to process, or you struggle with eye contact or conversation flow, he doesn’t take offense. He gets that comfort doesn’t always mean talking.

[spicechica]

Inbox open

I want to start doing more smut request, but I don't know where to start. Check out my pinned post to see my character list and exceptions. *I know you guys are hungry for more*

[spicechica]

(A Serendipitous Meeting)

*I was watching the Pixar movie Up recently, and this fic idea came to mind*

Summary: You and Quinten meet and become childhood friends, both feeling as if it was fate.

On a bright Spring day, five-year-old Quinten Quist pedaled furiously on his little yellow tricycle, his birthday balloon bobbing gently above him. The sun filtered through the trees as he rode deeper into the woods near his home, feeling an exhilarating sense of adventure. He was lost in his thoughts, a quiet boy with a mind full of wonders, when he stumbled upon an old greenhouse nestled among the foliage, its weathered frame partially hidden by climbing vines and surrounded by wildflowers. 

Curiosity piqued, Quinten hopped off his tricycle, balloon in hand, leaving it behind as he approached the creaky door, slightly ajar. Taking a deep breath, he pushed it open, he was greeted by a magical sight. Inside, the greenhouse was transformed into a whimsical clubhouse adorned with twinkling fairy lights that danced across the walls. Shelves overflowed with art supplies and trinkets—glistening stones, painted rocks, and glittery drawings scattered like stardust.

“WHAT ARE  YOU DOING?!?” Quinten screamed as a figure materialized from behind a pile of colorful canvases. You stand there, bright eyes and an impish smile, hands at your hips, a hint of mischief in your gaze. In his surprise, Quinten let go of his balloon, watching helplessly as it floated through a broken section of the ceiling and disappeared into another room.

You circled him, scrutinizing him with a playful intensity. Quinten’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment; he was not used to being the center of attention, especially not from a girl who seemed so confident and spirited. 

“Alright, you’re in. Welcome.” You extended your hand, your expression softened, revealing a warm smile. Quinten felt a mix of shyness and intrigue, his heart racing as he accepted your hand, a little thrill coursing through him at the contact.

“I saw where your balloon went. Come on, let’s go get it.” You lead him through the enchanting space, your stride purposeful as you popped back in to grab his hand, “My names Y/n”. Quinten blushed deeper; no one had ever made him feel this way. 

You both moved up a staircase to the upper level of the greenhouse, where a large hole in the floor revealed his balloon floating just beyond reach. “There it is,” you pointed, your excitement infectious.

Quinten gulped at the sight of the flimsy beam stretching over the gap. “Go on,” you encouraged, playfully pushing him forward. His heart raced with fear and exhilaration, the challenge igniting a flicker of bravery in him. He took a deep breath, summoning the courage to step onto the beam.

Just as he found his balance, the beam wobbled under his weight, and he lost his footing, tumbling through the hole below. The world spun as he fell, the sound of voices echoing in his ears before everything faded into darkness.

Quinten lies in his bed, a bandage wrapped around his arm. Quinten's family found him passed out from the fall after following his trail from the house. Thankfully, it wasn’t too serious for any type of severe hospital visit, just a sprain, luckily no concussion. The warm glow of his bedside lamp illuminated the pages of the book he clutched tightly. He was startled from his reading by a soft rustle, and before he could react, you appeared at his window, a grin on your face. 

“Boo!” you whispered, causing him to yelp and quickly cover his mouth, the shock sending a rush of warmth to his cheeks. 

“Y/n! What are you doing here?” he asked, half-excited, half-nervous, his heart still racing from the surprise. 

“I came to check on you. You scared me when you fell!” You climbed through the window, your presence lighting up the room. “I thought maybe you could use some cheering up.”

Quinten couldn’t help but smile at her infectious energy. “What if my family caught you?,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“They won’t,” you replied, sitting on the edge of his bed. “And besides, I brought you something.” You pulled out a small sketchbook filled with drawings of different landscapes and architecture —each page brimming with life and creativity. 

Quinten was entranced. “These are amazing!”

“Thanks! I want to be an artist someday,” your face glowing with passion. “And maybe you can help me! You seem to like that stuff.” You point to the pile of doodles stashed next to his bed. He slowly picks one of the sheets up. “Very interesting,” you looked at the half drawn building, amazing by its structure. 

“What is it?” You asked. He shrugs in response, he had only seen glimpses of these images in his dreams, but he could never figure out where it was from. “I like it…” Quinten lightly smiles at your response. 

As you both chatted, Quinten felt a bond forming—a connection that was deeper than mere friendship. You were different from the adults he often interacted with; you were vibrant and spontaneous, igniting a curiosity he hadn’t known he craved.

You quickly shut your book. “Well, it’s getting late, see yeah.” Before you climb down the window, you turn back and give him a smile. “If you want to, you can come tomorrow,” you step out one foot first. “You know, you don’t talk very much….I like you.” Quinten looks out the window as he watches you leave in amazement. 

Time slipped by, weaving your lives together as you both blossomed from children into teenagers. Quinten, now sixteen, found himself pedaling his bike down the familiar gravel road, the wheels crunching rhythmically beneath him. The sound echoed through the air as he thought about You.  Always just a little ahead of him, your spirit like a beacon that guided him through life’s complexities.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow on the path ahead. He could see you waiting for him at your secret spot, a makeshift fort they had built from branches and leaves, now a refuge of their shared dreams and whispered secrets.

As he approached, he could hear your laughter, a sound that melted his heart. “You’re late!” you teased, feigning disappointment but unable to hide your smile.

“I had to make sure I could slip past Max without him noticing,” he replied, trying to catch his breath. For the past couple of weeks he had been doing the same thing. Instead of going to his classes like his family expected him to, he’d sneak off or find some excuse to not go. And of course Max was always on him about it, especially his grandmother. 

You both went to different schools, so the only times you two would see each other was either after school, or when you planned meet ups on the weekends. Sometimes you would even ditch school just to meet up with him as well, not like really any of your family noticed. 

As fall began to come around the corner, your friendship began to shift. Quinten felt a strange fluttering in his chest whenever he was near you, one he could not control rarely . It was as if the world had sharpened in color, every glance, every touch, igniting a fire within him.

One afternoon, as you both sat beneath a sprawling oak tree, Quinten watched as you sketch the landscape, your brow furrowed in concentration. The sunlight danced through the leaves, casting a warm glow on your face. “Y/n,” he said softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

You look up, your eyes sparkling with curiosity. “What’s up?”

“Do you ever think about… what’s next?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, the weight of his feelings pressing against him.

“What do you mean?” you replied, tilting your head slightly, a hint of a smile on your lips.

“About us. About growing up and… what it all means,” he stumbled over his words, his heart racing as he searched your eyes for understanding.

You studied him for a moment, the air thick with unspoken words. “I think about it a lot,” you admitted, your tone suddenly serious. “I don’t want to lose what we have.”

Quinten’s heart soared and sank at the same time. “Neither do I.”

But the moment passed, and you both slipped back into the comfort of laughter and playful banter, the tension lingering in the air, unacknowledged yet palpable.

Months later, your friendship was tested when Quinten was offered an opportunity to go school in Amsterdam and live with his father. He knew this was what he was asking for, but now that he’s been closer to you, he didn’t know how to act. As he stood inside the green house where you both had shared countless moments, you approached him, concern etched on your face.

“You’ve been quiet,” you noted, a hint of worry in your voice.

“I-uh, daddy wants me to come live with him in Amsterdam, so i can go to school ,” he replied, feeling a lump form in his throat.

Your expression shifted. “That’s amazing, Quinten! You said you wanted to go to school there, didn’t you?”

“But it means leaving,” he said, his voice cracking. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Your eyes widened, and for a moment, the world around you faded. “We’ll figure it out. We always do,” you replied, stepping closer, the unspoken words hanging between the both of you like a fragile thread.

“But what if it changes everything?” Quinten whispered, his heart pounding as he searched her gaze for reassurance.

“Maybe it will. But we can’t let fear hold us back, can we?” you replied, determination shining in your eyes. 

In that moment, Quinten realized he couldn’t imagine life without you. Leaning in, he hesitated, then pressed his lips to yours softly. Quinten felt the warmth of your lips against his, a spark igniting the air between you. It was a moment suspended in time, where all the uncertainty of the future melted away, leaving only the undeniable connection that had woven itself through years of friendship. Your eyes fluttered closed, and he could feel your breath quicken, matching the rhythm of his heart as he pulled you closer.

The kiss was tentative at first, both of you exploring the new territory of your relationship. But as the initial shock faded, passion took over, deepening the kiss. Quinten's hands found their way to your waist, holding you as if he were afraid you might disappear. You tangled your fingers in his hair, feeling the warmth radiate from his skin. The world outside the greenhouse faded into a distant hum, cocooning you in your own secret garden of love.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, the silence between you was charged with unspoken feelings. Quinten searched your gaze, his own filled with vulnerability. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, a mix of joy and disbelief flickering across your face. “Me too,” you replied, feeling the weight of everything you had shared finally crystallize into something tangible and beautiful.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting golden rays through the greenhouse's glass panes, you and Quinten stood enveloped in the aftermath of your kiss. The air felt charged, vibrant with newfound emotions, as if the universe had shifted ever so slightly to make room for the bond that was now blossoming between you.

“I can’t believe we waited so long,” Quinten said, his voice a blend of wonder and a hint of regret. He brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the touch sending a shiver down your spine.

You smiled softly, your heart racing. “Maybe we were just meant to take our time,” you suggested, stepping closer to him. The familiar scent of soil and growing things surrounded you both, grounding the moment.

Quinten nodded, his eyes searching yours. “But now… with this opportunity, I don’t know what to do.” He leaned against the wooden table, looking out at the lush greenery that had witnessed so many of your childhood secrets.

“Quinten,” you said gently, reaching for his hand. “You have to follow your dreams. I wouldn’t want you to give that up for me.”

“But what if it means giving up on us?” he replied, his brow furrowing. The vulnerability in his eyes mirrored the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

You took a deep breath, squeezing his hand tighter. “We’ll find a way. We always have. Distance doesn’t have to mean the end.”

He looked at you, the weight of your words settling in. “Promise

“Promise,” you whispered, sealing it with another brief, soft kiss. 

*this is officially my longest fic and now I'm burnt out 😫*

[spicechica]

To all artists in the BG3 Fandom!

this has been stuck in my head for weeks. I recently watched Who framed Roger Rabbit, since I've watched it since I was a kid. But, I kept imagining that one Jessica Rabbit scene where she walks down the walk way, singing her song, and I kept thinking....that would be astarion. And tav would be Roger. I NEED TO SEE ASTARION IN A RED SHIMMERING DRESS AND HEELS!

[spicechica]

I NEED SOME HELP!

I know I haven't written in a while, and since I've been back in school I've been completely brain dead. So, if you guys have any suggestions or blurb ideas please drop one in my inbox. I've had terrible writers block for weeks and need somthing to write before my brain turns to mush. Check out my pinned post for the characters I write for and my exceptions. And if we're mutuals, please give me some ideas 💡 😔

[spicechica]

(That rizz post)

Screw that, I'm judging her. She chose Fritz when she could have had that tall, broad man with full lips? Come on! 😅

YES! I mean look at his face. He's so Pookie. I just want to hold him in my arms. I can just imagine him holding you and reading one of his favorite books to you, and he would take you to his favorite secret places 😭

[spicechica]

(When he has rizz)

I mean, I don't judge her for being with Fritz...but really, she lost a good respectful man. I would have chosen Ernst from the start. *And you know he's romantic in bed...probably after reading all those books*