#but as someone who has. it twists things in SUCH a delicious way

[midnightcarp]

caught up with Kill the Villainess again and hoo boy...........

[reidmarieprentiss]

Hii! I was wondering if you could write something with bartender!reader and spencer? They meet at a bar in one of his cases and he is WHIPPED, she gets drinks for the whole team and he just can´t stop staring at her, maybe penelope also tries to flirt with her? i don't know i love pen and just wanted her to be included in this lmao

Southern Charm

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: alcohol consumption

Word count: 3.5k

a/n: hiii i love this prompt !! i hope this is something like what you were looking for <3333

main masterlist

After successfully closing a challenging case in New Orleans, the BAU team decides to take a well-deserved break before heading back to Quantico. Will LaMontagne, JJ's beau, invites them to his favorite bar, Jewel of the South, for an evening of drinks and relaxation. Penelope Garcia, who joined the team on this trip to assist with the precinct's outdated technology, is thrilled to unwind with her colleagues in the vibrant city. With the spirit of New Orleans as their backdrop, the team gathers at the elegant cocktail bar, ready to enjoy a night of laughter and friendship, leaving the stresses of the job behind.

As they settled into a cozy corner, Penelope Garcia took it upon herself to ensure everyone had their preferred drink. As she made her way to the bar, Spencer Reid found himself glancing around the room, his mind still half-occupied by the case they had just closed. But his attention was quickly drawn to a captivating figure behind the bar. 

You were busy mixing drinks with an air of effortless grace, your warm smile lighting up the room. Spencer’s gaze lingered on you, his interest piqued by your charm and the way you seemed to effortlessly command the space.

Penelope returned, carrying a tray laden with cocktails and setting it down with a flourish. "Alright, team! Drinks are served!" she announced, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she noticed Spencer's transfixed gaze.

"Looks like our resident genius has found something—or rather someone—interesting," Derek teased, nudging Spencer playfully. "Or should I say, someone has captured his attention?"

Spencer blinked, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink. "I, um, was just observing how well she handles the bar," he stammered, trying to sound nonchalant.

Emily raised an eyebrow, a sly smile spreading across her face. "Uh-huh, sure. Handling the bar. That’s what we’re calling it now?" she quipped, a knowing look in her eyes. "I think someone should go say hello."

Before Spencer could protest, you approached their table, carrying a fresh round of drinks. "Here you go! Compliments of the house for the amazing work you all do," you said, your smile even brighter up close.

Spencer tried to find his voice, but all he managed was a slightly awkward, "Thank you. You’re so pretty–kind, this is so kind of you.”

Penelope, ever the social butterfly, seized the opportunity to introduce herself. "I'm Penelope, and this is Spencer. And you have impeccable taste in cocktails!"

You chuckled, clearly enjoying the interaction. "Thanks, Penelope. I do try to keep the drinks as interesting as the company. That’s why yours has a special twist," you said, turning your attention to Spencer with a wink.

Spencer flushed yet again, "Oh—oh, thank you. Um, what is it?"

"Pretty boy, why don't you just take a sip and see if you like it?" Derek suggested, grinning from ear to ear.

"Yeah, pretty boy. And don't spare my feelings; I'd be happy to make you something else," you offered charmingly, leaning in slightly.

Spencer took a sip and realized you'd made him an absolutely delicious mocktail. His eyes widened with appreciation. "Thank you so much, this is wonderful."

"Glad you like it!" you replied, your smile warm and genuine.

Emily Prentiss, ever curious, leaned forward. "I have to ask, how did you get into bartending?"

"Yeah!" Penelope added with a playful glint in her eye. "A beautiful thing such as yourself must get a lot of tips."

You giggled at their flattery, clearly enjoying the banter. "Ha! You guys are too much. I'm just putting myself through grad school."

"And the tips?" JJ chimed in, wiggling her shoulders, much to the amusement of everyone.

You leaned in closer, lowering your voice conspiratorially, which put your chest right next to Spencer's face. "I'm not technically supposed to say..." you trailed off, casting a playful glance at Will, who was sitting nearby, "but if Will here promises not to say anything, the tips are phenomenal!"

Will smiled and raised his hand in mock solemnity. "My lips are sealed, good lady," he assured you, playing along with the lighthearted mood.

Spencer was trying his best to keep his eyes forward during the interaction, but they kept drifting over before finally accepting his fate of staring at your chest. His mind was a whirl of confusion and embarrassment, his usual eloquence completely deserting him.

"I'd say Reid over here wants to give her more than a tip," Derek laughed, his voice full of good-natured teasing.

"Morgan," Hotch scolded, though not without a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Realizing how your position had flustered the poor, adorable man, you straightened up, giving Spencer a little space. He was clearly overwhelmed, his cheeks a brilliant shade of crimson.

Spencer, noticing everyone's eyes on him, suddenly felt the urge to escape. "Excuse me," he mumbled, getting up from the table and making a beeline for the bathroom, his heart pounding with mortification and exhilaration.

As he disappeared, Penelope sighed theatrically, casting a wistful look in your direction. "Well, if he doesn't make a move, I might have to!" she declared with a laugh, earning a chorus of agreement from the rest of the team.

You chuckled, feeling the warmth of the group's camaraderie and the genuine affection they had for one another. "You guys are a lot of fun," you admitted, feeling quite at ease despite the little whirlwind you'd unintentionally stirred.

Derek grinned at you, clearly enjoying the playful chaos. "Yeah, we're all sorts of fun. But don't worry about Spencer; he'll be back. Probably with a list of reasons why he shouldn't have left," he said, amusement dancing in his eyes.

You nodded, glancing toward the bathroom with a smile. "I'll have to make sure his drink doesn't get warm in the meantime."

—

Spencer stepped outside the bar, seeking a breath of fresh air to calm his racing thoughts. The air was humid, clinging to his skin, but it was a welcome change from the crowded bar where the laughter and clinking glasses seemed to amplify his embarrassment. He leaned against the brick wall, replaying every second from the moment he first saw you, analyzing each word and glance.

The way you'd leaned in, the warmth of your smile, and the kindness in your eyes—every detail felt vivid in his mind, refusing to be ignored. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't hear the door open behind him.

"Hey, handsome," came your voice, cutting through the evening air like a melody.

Spencer spun around, his heart skipping a beat. The learned fear of being approached from behind flashed through him for a brief moment before he realized it was you. "Oh, hi," he managed to say, trying to sound composed but failing spectacularly.

"Hey, now," you teased, a playful lilt in your voice. "Don't sound too excited to see me. I'll start to think you don't like me."

"Oh—I, I mean, well," Spencer stammered, fumbling for words. His mind raced to form coherent sentences, but the proximity of your presence and the way you looked at him made it nearly impossible.

"You’re really cute, do you know that?" you said, your smile softening the tension in the air. You stepped closer, leaning against the wall beside him, your eyes glinting with amusement.

Spencer blinked, momentarily caught off guard by your directness. "Um, thank you," he said, his voice filled with surprise and gratitude. "I don't usually get called that."

"Now that's a damn shame," you replied, shaking your head slightly. "What do you get called? Pretty? Beautiful? Charming? Sexy?"

Spencer laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nerdy, weird, loser," he admitted, the words tumbling out with a self-deprecating shrug.

"Nope," you said firmly, crossing your arms as if the mere idea was ridiculous. "I refuse to believe anyone could have a negative thing to say about you. You’re sweeter than honey."

He met your gaze, slightly bewildered by your unwavering confidence in him. "I have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory, I can read 20,000 words per minute, and I have three PhDs. No one is calling me anything kind. Other than doctor or genius, maybe."

"Sexy," you corrected him with a teasing smile.

"What?" Spencer blinked again, this time in genuine confusion.

"That's downright sexy, sugar," you repeated, your voice low and playful.

Spencer was at a loss for words, an unusual occurrence for someone who usually had an answer for everything. His cheeks turned a deeper shade of red as he processed your words, his heart skipping a beat at the compliment.

"I—uh," he stammered, searching for a response that wouldn’t sound completely ridiculous.

You chuckled softly at his reaction, clearly enjoying the effect you had on him. "Don’t worry, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable," you said, your tone gentle and reassuring. "I just think intelligence is incredibly attractive."

Spencer nodded slowly, still trying to wrap his head around the idea that someone found him attractive for more than just his intellect. "Thank you," he finally managed, his voice sincere. "That's… really nice to hear."

"You're welcome," you replied with a warm smile. "So, what brings you to New Orleans, sugar?"

Spencer relaxed slightly, grateful for the change in topic. "Work, mostly. We just wrapped up a case, and the team decided to take a night off to unwind."

"Well, I’m glad you did," you said, giving him a sidelong glance. "Otherwise, I might not have met the smartest—and sexiest—guy in New Orleans."

Spencer watched as you smiled, a hint of playfulness in your eyes as you leaned against the wall. The evening air was thick with humidity, but there was a certain warmth in the atmosphere that made everything feel alive. 

"Can I get you a drink?" he offered, feeling a sudden burst of confidence. 

“Sure, honey. I’m off in just over an hour. Will you wait for me?” you asked, your voice a smooth blend of charm and Southern warmth.

Spencer was entranced by your spell, your accent adding an extra layer of allure to every word. “Of–of course,” he replied, his voice tinged with both eagerness and a touch of awe.

Your smile widened, clearly pleased with his response. "Great! I promise I won't keep you waiting too long."

Spencer nodded, feeling a strange ball of nervousness and excitement fluttering in his chest. He couldn’t believe his luck; not only had he caught your attention, but now he had a reason to spend more time with you.

"Just hang tight, and I'll join you as soon as I can," you said, giving him a reassuring wink before heading back inside the bar to finish your shift.

As you slipped back through the door, Spencer took a moment to steady himself. The cool night air was a welcome contrast to the heat building inside him, a gentle reminder that this unexpected encounter was real. 

—

Spencer returned to his friends, who were still enjoying their drinks and each other's company. Penelope Garcia spotted him first, her eyes lighting up with curiosity.

"Well, well, well, look who decided to come back," she teased, patting the empty seat beside her. "Did you have a nice chat with our lovely bartender?"

Spencer smiled, feeling a bit more composed now that he was among friends. "Yes, actually," he said, a hint of bashfulness in his voice. "She’s really nice."

Derek Morgan chuckled, shaking his head. "Nice? Man, she was practically making eyes at you, and you didn’t even notice."

"She was?" Spencer asked, genuinely surprised. "I mean, I thought she was just being friendly.”

Emily Prentiss laughed, taking a sip of her drink. "Spencer, I think you might need to brush up on your flirting skills. She was definitely interested."

Spencer blushed, his gaze dropping to the table as he tried to process this new information. "Well, she said she’d join me for a drink after her shift," he admitted, glancing around at his friends' reactions.

Penelope clapped her hands in delight. "Oh my gosh, this is so exciting! You have a date!"

"It's not a date," Spencer protested, though his smile betrayed his words. "We're just… having a drink."

"Uh-huh, sure," JJ said with a knowing nod. "But you better be on your best behavior, Doctor Reid."

—

The time passed more quickly than Spencer anticipated. As he sat with his friends, he found himself watching the clock, eager for the moment when he could see you again. 

Finally, as the hour drew to a close, you emerged from behind the bar, having swapped your work apron for a casual yet stylish outfit that seemed to suit you perfectly. Spencer's heart skipped a beat at the sight of you, your presence a beacon of warmth in the dimly lit bar.

You approached the table with a confident stride, flashing a friendly smile at the team. "Hope I didn't keep y'all waiting too long," you said, your drawl a melodic touch to your words.

"Not at all," Spencer replied, standing up to greet you. "It was worth the wait."

Derek raised his glass in a mock toast. "Look at you, Reid, sounding like a proper gentleman."

You laughed, clearly enjoying the group. "Y'all are such a fun bunch. You might have to make this a regular stop."

Spencer felt a sense of ease settle over him, his earlier nerves fading into the background as he focused on the here and now. You were standing beside him, your presence both comforting and exhilarating, and he couldn’t help but feel grateful for this unexpected twist of fate.

"So," you said, turning your attention back to Spencer, "are you ready for that drink?"

"Definitely," he replied, feeling a surge of anticipation. "Lead the way."

With that, you guided Spencer to a quieter corner of the bar, where the noise of the crowd faded into a gentle hum. The dim lighting cast a warm glow over the wooden table, creating an intimate setting. Spencer felt his heart beat a little faster, knowing that this was a chance to learn more about the intriguing woman who had captured his attention so effortlessly.

Spencer settled into the booth across from you, his hands fidgeting slightly with the edge of his sleeve. He offered you a small, bashful smile, the kind that hinted at both his excitement and nervousness. "So," he began, searching for the right words, "I guess this is the part where I ask you about your favorite drink, but it feels a bit redundant given your expertise."

You chuckled, leaning forward with a playful glint in your eye. "Well, I'm always up for a good mystery. Surprise me, Dr. Reid. What would you imagine my favorite drink to be?"

Spencer blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the challenge. He considered your question, his mind racing through various options. "Hmm, I’d guess something classic but with a twist. Maybe an Old Fashioned, but with a splash of something unexpected like lavender or ginger."

Your eyes widened in mock surprise, clearly impressed. "Not bad, Spencer. I have to admit, I do like a bit of lavender in my Old Fashioned."

Spencer felt a surge of pride at getting it right, his awkward charm shining through as he said, "I, uh, thought it might match your personality—elegant with a hint of something uniquely you."

You smiled, your gaze softening as you watched him. "That’s sweet of you to say," you replied, your voice carrying a gentle warmth that made his heart skip a beat.

The conversation flowed naturally, with Spencer occasionally stumbling over his words in an endearing way that made you smile. He was unlike anyone you’d met before, his intelligence paired with a genuine kindness that was refreshing and intriguing.

As you talked, you noticed how Spencer's eyes seemed to light up when he spoke about his work and the things he was passionate about. His enthusiasm was contagious, and you found yourself leaning in closer, captivated by his stories and the way he seemed to pour his heart into everything he did.

"So, Spencer," you said, your voice taking on a more playful tone, "do you always get this nervous around women, or is it just me?"

Spencer let out a soft laugh, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Well, I—I suppose it's not every day I get to talk to someone as captivating as you," he admitted, his honesty shining through despite his awkwardness.

You grinned, clearly enjoying the effect you had on him. "Captivating, huh? I'll take that as a compliment."

"It is," Spencer assured you, his gaze steady despite the flutter of nerves in his chest. "You have this way of commanding attention. It's, um, quite impressive."

You reached across the table, lightly touching his hand with yours. "And you have a way of making people feel appreciated, Spencer. That's a rare quality."

Spencer felt a spark at the contact, his heart beating a little faster. The moment seemed to stretch out, charged with an energy that was both thrilling and a bit nerve-wracking.

"You know," you said softly, your eyes meeting his with a hint of mischief, "I think you're pretty special, too. Not just for your brain, but for who you are."

Spencer swallowed, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t quite articulate. He felt a pull toward you, a magnetic force that seemed to draw him closer with every word and gesture.

"Thank you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "That means a lot coming from you."

You smiled, your eyes holding his in a gaze that seemed to speak volumes. As if sensing the moment, the bar around you seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you in your own little world.

Spencer hesitated for a fraction of a second, his mind caught between doubt and desire. But then he saw the encouragement in your eyes, and the decision seemed to make itself.

He leaned across the table, his movements tentative but filled with intent. You met him halfway, closing the distance with a gentle ease that made the moment feel right. 

The kiss was soft and tentative, a sweet brush of lips that carried the promise of something more. Spencer felt his heart soar, the warmth of the connection spreading through him like a gentle tide. 

When you finally pulled back, your eyes locked onto his, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. "See?" you teased, your voice a soft murmur. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Spencer chuckled, relief and happiness washing over him. "No," he admitted, his voice filled with newfound confidence. "I guess it wasn't."

You grinned, leaning back with a satisfied air. "Good, because I was planning on doing that again," you said, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

Spencer felt his heart skip at the prospect, the evening stretching out before him with endless possibilities. He realized that this unexpected encounter could be more than just a chance meeting.

And as he sat there, sharing a quiet moment with you in the corner of the bar, Spencer knew that he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

—

“Did you guys see that??” Penelope burst out, her eyes wide with excitement as she pointed toward the cozy corner where you and Spencer were sitting.

Emily turned her head just in time to catch a glimpse of the sweet interaction, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "Looks like our genius finally made his move," she commented, clearly pleased by the development.

Derek, ever the supportive friend, couldn't contain his enthusiasm. “Pretty boy is putting in the work!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together in approval. “I knew he had it in him.”

JJ shook her head with a laugh, leaning back in her chair. "I guess we all underestimated Spencer's game," she said, casting a proud glance toward her colleague.

Beside her, Will LaMontagne joined in the teasing, a playful grin on his face. "JJ, you might have a new travel buddy when you come to see me," he teased, nudging her with his elbow. "Looks like Spencer's found himself a reason to visit New Orleans more often."

JJ chuckled, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Well, I can’t say I blame him. She's a real catch."

Aaron Hotchner, usually reserved and composed, allowed himself a small smile as he watched the interaction unfold. It was rare for Spencer to let his guard down, and it was heartening to see him embrace this new connection.

"Good for him," Hotch remarked, his tone approving as he raised his glass in a quiet toast to Spencer's success.

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

tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse

[meteoramp3]

❝ I - The cage

⋆.˚ Summary: When you find out your father decided to promise you—without asking you—to an unknown man, you burden yourself thinking of a plan to escape this unpleasing marriage. Words: 2k Warnings: English is not my first language, no dance of dragons au, forced marriage/marriage of convenience, mentions of disgust towards sex, mentions of virginity loss, minor spoilers for Fire and Blood, accurate period misogyny, betrayal, reader is from the Reach. A/N: Can noble ladies have a sworn protector or is it just a princess thing? idk, but reader has one. Also he's called ser Barristan cuz idk what else to call him lmao, and i miss him [cry]. ALSO, the fanfic was inspired by the song "The cage" by Oasis and the movie Possession ;). Masterlist

  Your fingers turned another page of the forbidden book you had found in the library of your house earlier that day, the wind made the grass dance a little, tickling your skin. The place offered a sense of calm and comfort, sheltering you from prying eyes and scolding Septas, who often reminded you of your place and duty as eldest daughter and someday, someone’s wife, and someone’s mother; a thought that always made your tummy twist.

  You rolled onto your stomach, leaning on your shoulders to admire the landscape of the field, trying to distract yourself from intrusive thoughts. You'd never felt content about marriage or motherhood. After hearing many horrible stories, you were frightened of such a destiny: being used as a bargaining chip for the family's sake, being touched and bedded without any say, while prying eyes watched to ensure the deed was done.

  Days like this always passed quickly, and today was no exception. You ignored the inevitable scolding from your parents—the tranquility and solitude kept you from leaving, even knowing your father had probably sent your sworn sword to search for you by now, as darkness had fallen.

  You were right. Ser Barristan had indeed left the castle to fetch you. Always so kind, the old man asked about your day, making small talk throughout the walk. Upon arrival, you went straight to the castle kitchen, famished and assuming your family had already dined without you.

  As usual, the pastries tasted delicious, sweet but not overly. The cooks had let you steal some of them after finishing your meal, which you shared with a serving girl and your youngest brother, who had sneaked from his room. His cheeks were sugar-coated with crumbs as he clung to your skirts, covering them with flour while babbling about his day.

  Now in your room, your dress lay discarded on a wooden chair, waiting to be cleaned.

  The night was unusually cold—the past years had been warm, especially in The Reach. The curtains flowed in the wind, and silence reigned.

 Until a knock at the main door broke through.

  The sound pulled you from your thoughts. You quickly rose, making a beeline for the door, which creaked as you opened it.

  “My lady.”

  “Oh, Ser Barristan,” You looked at the man curiously. “I didn't expect you at such an hour. How can I help you?”

  “Your father wants to see you, it seems.”

  “My father, of all people at this hour? Really?” He nodded. “Alright, I'll go in a moment. Thank you.”

  “Shall I accompany you?” You shook your head. “There's no need. Thanks, and good night.”

  You made your way to his chambers and knocked. “Father, may I come in?” A faint “yes” came from inside. You opened the door, and entered the big room, it was covered in tapestries and furniture from Essos

 Your father sat before the fireplace, smiling as you entered.

  “Sweetheart, where were you all day? I saw you once this morning, then you vanished.” He motioned to the chair beside his. “Your Septa says you missed your lessons. I thought we'd discussed this.”

  “I was in the gardens, in the clearing, specifically.”

  He sighed. “I know you find embroidery boring, but you should have told me.”

  “...Sorry.”

  “Mm, that's not why I called you anyway.”

  That made sense—he'd never summoned you at such an hour. “Then?” You watched him swallow nervously, and you raised an eyebrow.

  “I've promised you to another.”

  You choked. “What?”

  “You're to wed a Lannister. You'll be fine, and most importantly, safe. Think how this will benefit the family!”

  Your throat went dry. This had to be a jest. Your daddy wouldn't do this... would he? Just yesterday, and every day since you had been born, he had told you he loved you. You didn't even know this man, and now you have marry him? Love doesn't work that way, does it? Your mind raced to identify which Lannister it might be. You hadn't met many, nor studied their dynasty beyond the basics. Could it be Jason Lannister? No, he was married. That left his twin, Tyland Lannister, by what you've heard and studied, had already fought for the favor of Rhaenyra Targaryen many years ago.

  “Is that what you really want?” You questioned his decision. Surely as a concerned father, he wanted the best for his children, but he knew of your friendship with prince Jacaerys. Wouldn't that better serve the family? 

  You could rule beside him, and your eldest child would inherit the throne. How could you tell Jace about this? In your letters, Jacaerys had expressed his interest in marrying you, promising to wait until you came of age, and even then, until you truly felt ready for children, mindful of what had happened to his grandmother, Aemma Arryn.

  “Of course it's what I want. You're my only daughter—I want only the best for you.” Guilt suddenly gripped you for questioning him. He wanted you secure, wanted to ensure an easy life, but at what cost? Your dignity? Your autonomy? Those earlier fears flooded back—you'd always expressed disgust at forced marriages while talking with your friends, especially those with large age gaps. What of the wedding? The bedding ceremony?

  Would your father ensure your safety, or simply trust you to this stranger? You wanted to scream, to tear at your nightgown and the tapestries, perhaps even strike someone. This betrayal cut deep. This man before you—who until five years ago had shared stories of Westeros before you went to bed, who had let you roam freely when well-behaved, who had taught you archery and given you a horse—was fading away as his words sank in. By next year's end, you'd likely be with child.

  You shook your head, fighting tears. “I'm not ready.” How could you be? You'd barely spoken with men, especially those not your age. “I'm not even sixteen, by the Seven! I'm not ready to leave you, Mother, or my siblings. I'm not ready for bedding or childbearing. Father, please—tell me this is just a jest I don't like.”

His face darkened with an unfamiliar frown. “You are ready. You're a woman now—it's natural. Your mother had you when she was barely a year older.”

  “Is that what you think?”

  He tensed at your unprecedented defiance. “Go to your room. You leave in a fortnight.” He returned to his reading. You stared, feeling your soul depart. Where was your father? He who had sworn to protect you until his last breath—had he already drawn it?

  Rising reluctantly, you slammed the door, its echo bouncing off cold stone walls. Were you overreacting? True, you could be dramatic, but only in jest. The air felt bitter against your skin as you realized your vulnerability in this violent world, and you made your way to your room.

  Behind your closed door, you finally crumbled. Tears streamed down your cheeks as your head throbbed violently. You muffled your sobs behind your hand, curling into a ball on the cold floor, seeking solace or perhaps the Maiden's mercy.

  When the crying finally stopped, you weakly pushed yourself up, eyeing the desk across the room. Thoughts of your beloved prince returned. You had to tell him—but how could you defy the realm's heir?

You approached the desk, pen and ink beckoning like whispered promises of help. But you knew better. You were growing up; you must accept your path without complaint.

Settling into the chair, its cold metal details no longer welcoming, you stared at the blank page, wondering what options a girl your age had. None.

You began writing a brief letter to Jace, explaining your situation and apologizing for leaving him against your will.

Soon finished, tear-stained ink marring the page, you folded and sealed it. Your house sigil stood proud on the wax—likely the last time you'd use it before another house's sigil claimed you, along with your name and identity.

The next two weeks brought no joy, you could not look at anything or anyone without a sudden nostalgia filling you.

  It hurt, it stung, it felt like betrayal to be sold to a man twice your age—a stranger—by your own family, as if the past years meant nothing. Were they truly so desperate for power?

  You tried to reason with your father three times, but each attempt was met with dismissal. “You're old enough to wed and start a family,” he'd say, ignoring your dreams of the prince sweeping you off your feet. Perhaps it was a childish wish, but was it truly so foolish to hope for marriage to someone you loved? Someone you'd be excited to build a life with? In a world where men looked down on women, maybe it was. Still, you never expected your own father to promise you away without seeking your thoughts or offering alternatives.

  What pained you most was leaving your family, home, and friends behind. As the eldest sibling, who would care for the little ones when mother was exhausted? Would the wet nurses be as attentive as you? Would your siblings face the same fate, promised away without a choice?   

 Leaving home felt like being torn from your roots. It was such a beautiful place, with its soft grass and flowers, and that nearby clearing—your favorite hiding spot when you should have been studying the old houses and dynasties of Westeros with your septa.

  Now you stand in your chambers, dimly lit by your favorite aromatic candles, their wax melting for what might be the final time. You pack your finest dresses—silk adorned with gold and intricate patterns. After what feels like an eternity, you closed the suitcase firmly, fighting back tears.

  You didn't get a lot of sleep that night.

  Your head throbbed relentlessly and your eyes were puffy, but your handmaidens quickly tended to you with pain-relieving tea and cool cloths. They brushed your hair until it gleamed, then dressed you in your mother's courtship gown—the blue one with silver embroidery, long sleeves, and flowing skirt. You'd always longed to wear it, but your mother would laugh softly whenever you asked, saying you'd need to be old enough—and tall enough—to fit it properly. That day had finally come, though it felt far from the special occasion you'd imagined.

  The castle walls felt different that morning, as if they might swallow you whole at any moment. Pitiful glances and farewells followed your every step, each “thanks” burning in your throat. In the castle's front yard, your family and handmaidens waited. Your siblings' faces were particularly forlorn; you knelt to their level and embraced them fiercely. When you reached your parents, your mother's bone-crushing hug drove the air from your lungs. Her tears soaked your velvet sleeve as she wished you well, assuring you that this Lannister—whose name no one had bothered to share—would treat you kindly. She kissed your forehead one last time before passing you to your father.

  After the farewells, you turned toward the carriage, only to feel a tug at your skirt. Your youngest brother stood there, eyes wide. You kissed his head repeatedly, promising to write whenever possible. Then, finally, you stepped into the carriage, leaving your entire life behind.

── .✦ Part two: Little by little - wip

─ .✦ Part three: Born on a different cloud - wip

A/N: I'll try to finish writing the other two chaps asap, wish me luck :')

[joelmillers-whore]

Fuck Me Like You Mean It

summary: a miserable time out at a club turns into quite the night when you run into someone you least expected to see. 

word count: 4.9k

series or one-shot

warnings: SMUT, explicit 18+, MDNI, no outbreak, dbf!joel x f!reader, dark!joel, spanking, dubious consent at times, voyeurism, exhibitionism i guess, dirty talking, language, joel calling reader a cock slut, slightly creepy joel, unspecified age gap, daddy kink, brat tamer joel, hand job for a second, manhandling, dominant joel, oral (female and male receiving), semi-public sex, bathroom sex, jealousy if you squint. as always, if i missed something, please let me know. 

you are responsible for the content that you consume. please read the warnings before continuing with this fic. enjoy babes. 

A/N: i am so sorry firstly for teasing you all with snippets of this one-shot and then just not posting it lol, life has been a little chaotic, to say the least and i was just feeling so uninspired to finish it (literally i do this to myself). but so many of you loved the little teaser i posted and i couldn’t just not give ya’ll some delicious dbf!joel. so, here it is. 

ALSO, a huge thank you and shoutout to kylee @hellishjoel for reading and beta-ing this for me, i love you and your freakouts were so valid haha. forehead kisses.

main masterlist

The pungent stench of sweat curled around your nose, setting your already overstimulated nerves into hyperdrive. Possessive hands pawed at your hips, urging you back into their body, into their growing stiffness. 

Normally, you’d be all for it. The game. Going out each weekend, getting shitfaced with your best friend, entertaining men who you would otherwise have no interest in just to see them work for a moment of your attention. 

But not tonight, tonight you’d had enough of it all. The handsy men, the unrhythmic and too-loud music, and just the whole played-out scene really. There wasn’t anything to get excited about anymore, each weekend blurring into the same version of the last, and the one before that. 

It was boring and you couldn’t tolerate the lacklustre men around you for much longer. So, twisting out of the weak grip of the twenty-something you had been dancing with all this time, you abandoned them and your friend who reeked of desperation. 

She’d hounded you all week to go out to a club, hoping to get laid, vetoing your suggestion to just get drunk and find someone at a bar. Now, you were at a seedy club downtown, getting groped from every angle by mediocre-looking men who smelled of too much Axe body spray and sweat. 

The mere thought of the combination curdled your stomach, propelling you deeper into the club and all the way to the bar. You thought that alcohol might right your foul mood, your skin already pricking with annoyance at your current circumstances. 

Getting to the bar, it was as packed as you had been imagining. Everyone was contending for the bartender’s attention, demanding drinks that you were sure were as watered-down as your first shot had been. 

You sighed, wondering why you had let your friend talk you into coming out tonight, when it was the last thing in the world you wanted to be doing. 

Lack of desire for the club had turned into plain boredom now, every ounce of your body thrumming with the longing to escape. But you’d never just up and leave your friend, no matter how much you wanted to. You’d just have to grin and bear it. 

Tapping your finger along to the music, that wasn’t even good, the slow and melodic electronic music nearly putting you to sleep, you waited for your drink. Finally getting your drink from the bartender, you slurped it down, hoping the subtle sting of the alcohol would wake you up, and trigger something to make your night more enjoyable. 

You began to walk back to where you had left your friend, deciding to scoop her drunk ass up and take her back with you to your place to call it a night at... you checked your phone, a pathetic ten-thirty. But you stopped in your tracks when something caught your eye, or rather someone. 

Turning your head toward the seated area, which basically served as the VIP section without actually having the name, because there was nothing special about it. Old red velvet couches that had seen better days and probably had every fluid known to man seeped into the cushions, and wobbly tables that were smattered with decade-old stains. 

You squinted your eyes, the stage lights blinding you as you put a hand up, shielding your eyes as you attempted to make out a vaguely familiar shape that was sitting in said area. You took a tentative step forward, thinking that your eyes were deceiving you, the wild lights making you see things. Because there was no fucking way that you were actually seeing what you were seeing, no fucking way. 

Your eyes bulged out of your head at the sight. Your dad’s neighbour, Joel Miller, was sitting on one of the couches, a beer in one hand, his other hand disappearing below the cut of the table. Your eyes followed his hand, trailing down the length of him until they snagged on the back of someone's legs, kneeling below the table. 

Your lips parted slightly, completely caught off guard by what you were seeing. You were watching your dad’s neighbour— or better yet, his best friend, get sucked off at a club. Feeling your face heat, you looked away, embarrassment coating your skin. 

Your stomach lurched, turning with nausea and something else, your skin pricking with sweat as you glanced back up at Joel, meeting his already waiting eyes. Those chocolate brown orbs were blown, wide, and ghosting with surprise as he raked them over the expanse of you. 

His face glowed in the low light of the club, the flashing lights dancing and snagging your gaze to his lustful expression. The way that his eyes were heavy-lidded, the slight sheen that coated his brow, and the way that his chest rose and fell excessively. 

It was a scene that you couldn’t look away from, even though you wanted to. You wanted to get out of there and go... well, you didn’t exactly know. The longer that Joel’s eyes held yours, the more you felt yourself being drawn into his orbit, his world. Your chest began rising and falling in time with his own, and a dull throbbing began in your cunt, surprising you completely. 

You didn’t think that you’d be this kind of person, someone who was turned on by watching other people having sex. But you also couldn’t deny or explain the influx of wetness that saturated your panties. 

You awkwardly clenched your thighs, rubbing them together to ease some of the pressure you felt. Joel’s stare burned into you, causing your heartbeat to thrum erratically in your throat.

You felt sick and depraved and like you should be anywhere else in the world, but another part of yourself couldn’t look away, because you didn’t want to. 

You wanted to see Joel fall apart right in front of you, to see him burst at the seams and devolve into a fit of pleasure right before your eyes. And like you had wished it into existence, you watched as he tipped his head back, snapping his eyes closed, his whole body convulsing as he came. You’d be lying if you said that it wasn’t a beautiful sight to behold. 

Another gush of your own arousal leaked out of you, sticking the thin material of your panties flush against your cunt, rubbing against your already swollen clit. Fuck, you felt too hot and you needed to cool down, maybe splash some water on your face. 

Ducking out of Joel’s line of sight, you headed past the winding staircase, down a rather dark hallway, and toward a couple of heavy-set doors that housed the bathrooms. There weren’t many people around, only a few bodies scattered throughout the hall. 

Couples made out in the dark and you may or may not have seen a drug deal going down. But none of that mattered now, the only thing you needed to do was close yourself into a stall and try to get your hormones under control. 

Even though the thud of the music carried all the way down the hall, you could still hear a rhythmic thump of someone stomping in your direction. You turned on your heels, anxious to see who it was. Before you could even blink, strong arms shoved you past one of the steel doors, locking it behind you, before planting you against it on the other side. 

Your eyes trailed their broad and expansive chest, cresting at their salt and pepper beard and mustache, and settling on their sinful eyes. Eyes you had just been staring into moments before. It was Joel. Shock and something lustful coasted through you, sending a shiver of pleasure up your spine. 

Joel’s face was inches from yours, his breathing mingling with your own, the heady scent of beer invaded your nostrils. His eyes dipped to your lips and then lazily dragged back to your eyes. His hands were resting on your hips, keeping you between the door and his body, caging you in. 

“What’re you doing?”, you asked, swallowing thickly, trying to avoid his eyes. 

“What’s it look like ‘m doing?”, he replied, his Southern drawl coming out as thick as honey, making your thighs snap together. 

You shook your head gingerly, “Dunno...”. 

His lips quirked up, a sinister smirk plastered on his face, “Turn around”. His voice was gruff and assertive, making you quiver at the tone. 

You were stunned into silence, your mouth opening and closing like you were trying to catch flies, surprised by his forwardness. 

“What—”, you started. 

You couldn’t even catch your breath before Joel’s rough grip grabbed your arms, turning you around in his hold and pressing your front against the edge of the sink, basically bending you in half so that your ass was facing him, on full display. 

“This fuckin’ dress”, he mumbled behind you, fisting the material and tugging it up, bunching it around your waist, leaving your ass bare save for your drenched thong. “Wanted to fucking rip it off of ya”. 

You whined, pushing your ass toward him, your body completely under his spell, his raspy voice suddenly fulfilling every dirty fantasy you’d ever had about this man. It wasn’t as if he was unattractive by any stretch of the word, he was ruggedly attractive even. 

Your mind couldn’t concentrate on your thoughts of how attractive Joel was before a stinging slap came down on your bare ass cheek. You craned your neck, as best you could, but you felt another quick sting, forcing you to remain in the position you were in. 

“Fuck—”, you half-whined, half-mewled, both turned on and pissed off at the same time. “You can’t just—”. 

Another slap, harder this time, causing your body to jolt and instinctively wiggle away from the pain. 

“I can—”, Joel groaned, another full-palm slap on your ass, probably leaving a large, red imprint there. “And I will”. 

Joel’s other hand was pressing down on your back, pushing your face further and further toward the porcelain sink that wasn’t as white as it probably had been once upon a time. It made your stomach revolt against you, the combination of cigarette ash and week-old vomit was not the most pleasant scent. 

You felt Joel’s hand slip away from your ass, his fingers trailing over the back of your exposed legs, moving lower and lower. You attempted to look behind you again, his body not crowding you anymore.

When you did manage to sneak a peek, he was lowering himself onto his knees, spreading your legs farther apart by the back of your knees. 

Your eyes went wide, “What- what are you doing, Mr. Miller?”. 

Joel rolled his eyes, nipping at your sore ass cheek, causing you to jump. “So many goddamn questions”. 

You muttered something incoherent, a protest of some sort, but Joel wouldn’t hear it, only ignoring you and continuing on his mission. He pulled your deep red thong to the side, the chilled air in the bathroom hitting your exposed clit deliciously. 

“Mm, my favourite colour”, he groaned. 

You shook like a leaf as you awaited what came next, feeling Joel’s harsh breath closing in on your pussy, the anticipation actually killing you. It was like a shock to your system, the feel of his warm mouth suctioning to your lips, sucking and licking like he had been deprived all this time. 

Your hips pressed back into him, involuntarily chasing the sensation, the friction, the high. The brash feel of Joel’s beard tickled you, circling your entrance like a shark would its dinner. He licked along your folds, fucking his girthy tongue into your hole as he spread your cheeks further apart, stretching you painfully with the size of it. 

You were a moaning mess, hands strangling the edge of the sink, as you held on for dear life. Searing pleasure gripped your lower stomach, throttling your insides as Joel picked up his pace, helping you to your orgasm.

It came over you suddenly and violently, making you shake as you clenched your eyes shut, rocking back into him as light burst behind your eyes, making your body sweat and tingle with the aftershocks. 

You felt Joel move to stand, palming the flesh of your ass cheeks with both his hands as you took this opportunity to catch your breath. Your chest heaved as you lay virtually flat against the sink, your breasts squishing down painfully. 

Lightheaded and completely fucked out, you hadn’t even been aware that Joel’s hands were on you again, manhandling you so that you were turned around, facing him. He roughly gripped the hem of your dress, yanking the material down, your breasts popping out of their constraints. 

“D’you like what you saw earlier?”, Joel asked, his voice dropping an octave, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your skin. “Hmm? Was that sweet lil’ pussy weeping for me while I was getting blown?”. 

Your mind was clouded, a fog settling over each neuron, slowing down your capacity to think and speak, let alone to respond to him. You nodded your head, moaning in his ear, rubbing your jaw along his own, scraping your skin over his patchy beard. 

“Fuck”, he groaned, rutting his hardened bulge into your thigh, creating succulent friction for himself while you leaned back, taking it. “I almost blew my load when I saw that you were watching me, gettin’ off on seeing that”. 

You dropped your head to his shoulder, your mind still stuck in that post-orgasm haze. 

Joel gripped your chin in his fingers, tipping your head up so that your eyes were locked with his, “Eyes on me, darlin’. I ain’t finished with you yet”. 

You nodded again, your breathing coming out rushed as you gulped down heaps of air, filling your lungs, eyes locked on Joel’s. Your lids were heavy, vision clouded as Joel leaned forward, lips grazing yours. 

His teeth came down on your bottom lip, suddenly, making you yelp. The pressure was light, not as hard as you were expecting, not as hard as a part of you wanted. Joel groaned, his hands roaming all over you. Your hips, your stomach, your ass. 

Your hands raked up and down Joel’s chest, steadying yourself with the feeling of the coarse material underneath your palms. Your gaze flicked down to his buttoned-up shirt, to the three buttons that were undone, the dense hair on his chest, stippled with grey and white. 

He hummed, his chest rumbling below your fingers as you dipped them under his shirt, weaving through the loose curls, exploring the feel of him. His chest was solid, firm, strong, dependable. A strange wave of calm washed over you, igniting your confidence. 

“No...”, you breathed, your chest heaving, pulling one raspy breath after another from your lungs, “I’m not finished with you yet”. 

Joel’s eyes widened, his mouth parted, his tongue peeking out to swipe over his already glistening lips. A smirk tugged at the edge, his index finger slipping past your bottom lip. You opened wider, allowing his digit to slip into your mouth, the heedy taste of sweat and something sweeter settled on your tongue, your taste buds exploding with the tang of him. 

“Is that so?”, Joel cooed, his voice dripping, oozing with unbridled desire. 

He pushed his digit deeper into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat roughly. The intrusion was sudden, making your eyes snap shut as you tried your best to keep it together, to not give Joel the reaction he was looking for. But you gagged, all the same, drool pooling and dribbling out of the corner of your mouth.

You heard Joel click his teeth, a disappointed tsk coming from deep in his chest as he tried again, this time gripping your chin with his other hand, making sure you opened wide for him. 

“Come on, you can do better than that...”, he mused, his middle finger accompanying his index, sliding them deeper and deeper down your throat, until you couldn’t do anything but take it, the will to fight against the shock to your system fading quickly. “Show Daddy how much you want to suck his cock”. 

Your pussy began to thrum rapidly, your slick running down your inner thighs, making them sticky, making you even more of a mess than you already felt. You moaned around Joel’s fingers, sucking and bobbing your head along them as best as you could. 

His hand dropped from your chin to rub at your peaked and sensitive nipples, playing with them, distracting you from what you were doing. It was maddening, the sensation, the tweaking, the way he chuckled under his breath when you stuttered around him, groaning every time you took him deeper. 

He pinched your right nipple harder, twisting it, “Keep going, baby”. 

That was all the reminder that you needed. You shifted your focus back, inhaling through your nose deeply, taking his fingers down more, more, more. Tears bubbled along your waterline, making your vision of Joel blurry, and unfocused. 

Suddenly, he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, a thin line of your saliva still attaching you to him. Your attention was focused on the strand until it broke, your gaze sliding up Joel’s face, past his greying and patchy beard, his full, plump lips, and settling on his burning eyes. 

“Are you ready for Daddy’s cock now? Hm?”, he asked, in an almost mocking tone. 

You nodded, still a little dazed, still a little flustered. He grabbed your chin forcefully, his grip tight as he angled your head up, your eyes downcast as you kept them locked with his. 

“Tell me you want it, darlin’”, Joel’s face was inches from yours, his lips so close that you could push up on your toes and kiss him, feel them against you, but you didn’t, not yet. “Tell me you need it”. 

“I-I need it...”, you said, low. Joel’s brow raised, urging you to continue, “Daddy...”, you whined, your hips grinding into his thigh absentmindedly. 

Joel nodded, his pupils blown out, gleaming with lust and dark intent. You watched as his hands dragged across his stomach, sliding down farther and farther, resting above his belt. 

“Can I...”, you trailed off, preoccupied by his massive bulge, the way that it twitched in his jeans, practically punching a hole through them. 

Joel smirked, “Yeah, go ahead, baby”. His breathing was stunted, coming out in shallow pants as he anticipated you finally touching him. 

You reached out, hands dangling loosely on his hips, thumb rubbing along his zipper. You heard Joel’s breathing hitch above you, and you smirked. So, he was just as affected as you were... interesting. 

Holding in a breath, you tentatively searched his eyes a last time, he nodded slightly, his eyes never leaving you. You sank to your knees, Joel’s hand darting out to grab your arm, stabilizing you as you lowered yourself fully. 

You looked up at him through your full lashes, trapping him with your stare as you undid his jeans, slowly, with purpose. Your heart hammered in your chest, your mouth already filled with saliva as you awaited what you anticipated to be a huge cock. 

You couldn’t believe that you were on your knees, wrestling with Joel’s belt as he stood over you, towering over you, when just the other day he was helping your Dad change the oil in your car. 

Your Dad hadn’t been any the wiser to the way you had been ogling his neighbour and best friend the entire time. How you traced every bead of sweat that presented on his brow, how you watched intensely as his back muscles contracted under his plain black t-shirt every time he bent over the hood of the car, making you bite your lip as you imagined all the ways he could bend you over that hood and rail you into oblivion. 

You had focused on his dirty fingers, how meticulous and deft they were as they tinkled with the fine parts inside of your car, how filthy they were, covered in inky black smears. You felt like you were in heat, completely turned on by normal, everyday things, something as simple as a man— who again, was old enough to be your Dad, helping your actual father tune up your car. 

Pulling Joel’s zipper down, his black briefs hugged the shape of his cock, the fleecy material moulding his straining member beautifully. Your mouth watered at the sight, the size of him, the way that he smelled, even before you pulled him out of his underwear. 

You couldn’t help yourself, you needed to taste him then, immediately. Your core fluttered as you inched forward, hands wrapping around his thick, sturdy thighs, your nose burying deep into his hardened flesh, inhaling his intoxicating scent. And it was intoxicating. 

Your head was already swimming, your lips rubbing up and down his shaft, tongue licking his clothed cock. His musky soap took over your senses, the way his heavy scent settled over you, drawing you in deep, your tongue basically lapping at him now. Greedily, hungrily, shamelessly.  

Joel’s hands dropped down to your hair, tangling in it. His hold was painful, bordering on brutal. You couldn’t handle it anymore, being so close and yet not close enough. 

Your hands fumbled with the waistband of his underwear, dragging his pulsating cock out of them, feeling the weight of him in your hand. How warm and supple he was, how heavy and manly it was. 

Wrapping your hand over him, feeling flesh on flesh, skin on skin, warmth flooded your core, arousal seeping from you again. Joel sharply inhaled a breath through his teeth, wincing when you took hold of him. 

You looked up at him through lashed eyes, “What’s wrong?”. 

Joel shook his head, “Cold”. 

You snickered, rubbing your thumb over his slit, making his fists in your hair tighten significantly. In the low light, you could see a glob of something shimmering on his shaft, calling out to you. You took a closer look, realizing that it was lip gloss. Her lip gloss. 

Your gut simmered and boiled as you inspected it, collecting it on your finger and wiping it off on his jeans, practically snarling as you did. 

“She meant nothing, baby”, Joel said, his voice devolving into a groan when you slowly started stroking him. 

You hummed, not completely satisfied with his answer but deciding to let it go for now. He wasn’t yours and you had no say over what or who he did. You tugged harder, angrier, even though you knew it was irrational to get upset over this. 

“I can do it better”, you said, catching yourself off guard with your own words. Joel angled your head up, making you look at him. 

“Show me then”, he mumbled, his eyes glazing over with desire as he watched you intently. 

You sank down lower, face now level with his cock, fingers brushing against the wiry, short hair at the base. You inhaled deeply, inhaled the scent of him— sharp, masculine, heedy. 

He was all man and he was all yours for the moment; his lips parted slightly, his eyes hooded as he looked down at you, his tongue darting out to run along his parched lips, watching you like a hawk, cementing to memory the image of you on your knees for him, his best friend’s little girl hungry for his cock, ready to gag on it and swallow down every bit of his seed until she was choking on it. 

Joel’s cock pulsed under your touch, twitching with anticipation. Your lips quirked up at the edge, satisfied with his reaction to you, even though you hadn’t even started yet. 

You leaned in, planting a sweet kiss on his tip, Joel’s hand flying to your hair, steadying himself as your tongue popped out, running along the underside of his shaft, the feeling so fucking delicious that he would have burst if he hadn’t tugged you away from his cock faster than you could suck him into your mouth. 

“Stop... fucking teasing me...”, Joel breathed out, through clenched teeth, the pain in his voice making you giggle. 

“Okay”, you conceded, rolling your eyes like the fucking brat that you were. 

Joel loosed his grip on your hair significantly, and you pushed on, suckling at his tip, your tongue gliding over the head over and over again, effectively driving him insane— if his noises were any indication of that. 

You took a deep breath through your nose and took more of him, hallowing out your cheeks, covering your teeth with your lips. Spit painted his cock, the smell mixing with the overwhelming scent that was already present in the bathroom. 

You bobbed up and down on Joel’s cock, spurred on by the moans and broken grunts that were coming from him, your name and only your name spilling from his lips. 

“God, you love this cock”, Joel mumbled, loud enough for you to hear, your pussy beginning to throb again. “Don’t ya?”. 

You attempted to nod, opening your throat more for him to slide his length farther down. 

“My little cock slut, huh?”, Joel grunted, his other hand joining the one that was already tangled in your hair, grabbing your head and shoving himself deeper down your throat. 

You lost your rhythm, sputtering around him when you felt his tip hit the back of your throat. You closed your eyes, trying to breathe, but Joel wasn’t having any of it. He yanked hard, tipping your head up, your eyes glazed with tears. 

“What did I say? Eyes on me”, he growled, taking over— taking charge of the situation. You gripped his thighs, holding on for dear life, as he used your mouth to get off, not caring in the slightest that you were running out of air. 

Joel’s hips snapped violently as he pushed himself down your throat, groaning at the feel of it hugging his cock, squeezing it like he was fucking your pussy, fluttering every time you swallowed around him. 

He grunted loudly, his tempo becoming stuttered, “What would your Daddy say? Hm? What would he say if saw you right now, your mouth stuffed full of my cock, makeup running down your cheeks?”. 

You moaned around him, eliciting a pained groan from Joel, “Fuck, yeah, ‘s it... you’re doing so well for me”. 

Tears were streaming down your cheeks, your eyes stinging as you blinked them away, swallowing around Joel’s cock periodically, trying to get him to cum.

He was close, you could feel it in the way that he was tensing up, his pace unsteady and rushed, head thrown back as he let the feeling wash over him. It was a sight to behold, your arousal leaking from you as you watched him. 

A loud bang came from the other side of the bathroom door, some muffled shouting. Joel’s head snapped up at the intrusion, his thrusts becoming angrier each time he pulled out of you, only to shove back in harder. 

The banging came again but this time Joel didn’t take his eyes off of you, didn’t want to miss how you reacted when he came down your throat. 

“Want you to swallow it, darlin’. Don’t want you wasting a single drop”. 

You hummed again, a hand reaching for his balls, massaging them in time with his thrusts. A loud grunt was all the warning that you got before Joel spilled his load down your throat, his seed hot as it pooled in your mouth, the taste salty and overwhelming to your senses. 

You swallowed as much of him as you could, delighting in how he shuddered above you as he milked himself into your waiting and open mouth. He stepped back from you, tucking himself back into his jeans, running a hand through his sweat-slick curls. 

A drop of his cum ran down your chin and you didn’t waste a second before you thumbed it, sticking the finger into your mouth and sucking it clean, a lewd pop emitting in the echoing bathroom when you were finished. 

With a hand on the porcelain sink, you got to your feet, adjusting your dress and fixing your hair and makeup in the dirty mirror. You shrugged, not caring how you really looked, the club was dark enough that no one would be the wiser to what had just occurred. You hoped. 

You turned to Joel who still had that look in his eye as he stared at you. 

“What?”, you asked. 

He shook his head, “Nothin’”. Another bang on the door, Joel’s head turned to the noise, his features darkening, “I’m going to knock their fuckin’ head off if they knock one more time”. 

You walked to the door, patting Joel’s chest as you passed him, pulling it open. You stopped before you were all the way through, looking back at Joel. 

You cleared your throat, your voice coming out raspier than usual, “See you around, Mr. Miller”. 

You could have sworn that you saw a touch of a smile ghost his face, but you couldn’t be sure. You left the way you came, traversing the dark hallway and meeting up with your friend who was more than a little drunk. 

You joined the group of them, dancing and grinding for hours. Maybe your night out wasn’t as bad as you had originally thought. You unconsciously scanned the dance floor— the club for the brooding neighbour you had a quickie with in the bathroom, but he was nowhere to be found. 

You shrugged, only mildly disappointed that you were dancing with horny boys rather than the man who had made you see stars over and over again. But you smiled to yourself because you’d see him again, that was a guarantee, and maybe, just maybe he would need to help your Dad fix your car. 

taglist: @morallyinept @reddedmiller @hellishjoel @jenispunk @cavillscurls @kiwisbell @joelslegalwhre

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[forest-mankey]

Has anyone else had the delicious sad thought that Alastor would be terrified to be like his father if he were to get in a relationship?

Alastor just, longing and wanting to be with and hold his darling, to be their protector and provider, to be there for them in a way his father never was for his mother.

But another part of him, a part that he tries to ignore and bury with all other meaningless weak feelings, is terrified he’ll devolve into a loveless monster that saw no problem or remorse in abusing his child and wife and the love she gave him. A monster that just takes from the one he’s supposed to love and care for.

I like to think it eats him up inside a little bit the closer he becomes with his darling, and given his proclivities, it just gives him another reason to fuel this fear of his and keep them at a distance. That the gentle touch he would try to give would become the harsh hand that rips their heart and body apart and make him no better then the scum he hunts.

“I am not a pig like him” he tries to tell himself, but he remembers his mother telling him that his father didn’t start out that way, that there was a time he was sweet and attentive but then it was like a switch flipped. What if Alastor has that same switch and it hasn’t been flipped yet. Yes he hunts the filth of the streets with no remorse, but Alastor never thought of that as a switch, it’s just who he is, who he was meant to be. What if he’s not in the right circumstances for it to flip? What if it’s lying there dormant, waiting for someone Alastor cared about to turn on?

He’s tried so hard to separate himself from the pile of shit his father was in almost every way he could (he’s not religious but he thanks whoever is above or below that his physical resemblance to his father is minimum) but what if this the way his father will manifest in him? To posses him to abuse the one he would love and cherish.

It fills him with agonizing dread at the thought of putting his darling through what he and his mother had to go through while his father was breathing. So he tries to just keep the relationship with his darling professional.

But it gets harder and harder the more time he spends with them, the more they share their thoughts, passions and dreams with him, like a precious secret they only trust him with, a secret that he’ll cherish forever. And when he tries to avoid physical contact with them, they seem to not care about this rule he has set for himself, they’ll wipe a crumb from his cheek, or brush the invisible lint from his jacket. Or one time, in a tired spout where Alastor’s cognitive functions were dulled by the constant fluttering of exhaustion in his body he failed to move when his dear darling began running their fingers through his tussled hair, brushing at a slow pace while humming a tune from his show, the whole experience was euphoric and so domestic in nature, it reminded him of when he was a child and his mother would do the same thing, running her hands through his hair and humming whatever tune she heard that day. It was a rare peaceful respite in Alastor’s dark and twisted life. He nearly fell asleep like that, he would’ve too if the voice didn’t bite him in the back of his mind “this is to much” “they’re to close” “they’ll suffer just like your mother did ” the sudden fear made him jolt up, startling his darling from their peaceful ministrations. He mumbled a quick apology and excuse to his jumpiness, but he could tell from the confused and concerned look they gave him that his mask slipped and they could see the fear in his eyes. And Alastor Hated that.

he keeps his distance for their sake, he’d leave them all together if he were a better man, but Alastor is selfish and he’ll continue to feed on the crumbs he gives himself to satisfy the desperate part of his black heart.

He’ll never hug them or participate in any unnecessary physical contact, but the kisses he leaves on their hand last far too long to be considered friendly.

He’ll never share anything other than short and deflective responses to questions about his life, but he’ll hang on to every word they say like the gospel, to even the most minuscule comment or detail.

But that’s all, just crumbs, it’s all he gets, it’s safer that way.

“It’s for the best” he tells himself whenever he sees them, he’s sparing them from the torment he fears he could put them through.

He’ll take and feed scraps of attention and affection and convince himself it’s for their well being.

But again Alastor is a selfish man that finds loopholes even in his own rules, so if he happens to get drunker then he intended too on a typical outing at Mimzy’s speakeasy and practically glues himself to you for the rest of the night, well it’s not his fault, sometimes even a man on a fast has to break the rules and take more then he should and besides it’s not like his sweet darling complains when he nuzzles his face into the crook of their neck and wrap his arms so tightly around them you think they’d disappear if he let go.

No they don’t complain, in fact they giggle and repeat their indiscretion on his sanity from before and run their gentle fingers through his hair, humming to whatever tune the band is playing, he’ll regret letting his emotions get the best of him in the morning, he’ll turn hot and cold in the morning, but that is not right now. Right now Alastor greedily steals a moment for himself, a moment where he can pretend that he can have what he so desperately wants to protect from filth, where he cannot worry if the seeds of his fathers vile actions have spread to Alastor and are just waiting to take root in an loving and unsuspecting victim.

No, for just a little while Alastor can pretend to have a relationship devoid of those fears and replace it with the sickly beating in his heart and flush on his face.

[diamonddaze01]

on poetry and homecomings

pairing: yjh x gn!reader (reader does have long hair)

genre: fluff, slice of life, suggestive | wc: 2.0K

summary: jeonghan has apparently started reading poetry. 

warnings: mentions of sex, missing jeonghan hours

a/n: ahhh finally I decided to post my first ever fic // this is entirely self-indulgent bc i miss hannie // also! The poetry mentioned here is by Mahmoud Darwish, who wrote the Palestinian Declaration of Independence

Two months ago, if someone had asked you about your ideal Friday night, Jeonghan would have answered, “Y/N’s favorite thing to do on a Friday night is be with me!” 

In a way, that’s still true - the TV in the living room is playing some old GoSe episode that you don’t have the heart to stop yet. Jeonghan had all but stopped reading your messages the week prior, so you were left to fill the void the best you could. Jeonghan’s smile fills the screen as he chases Hoshi around an abandoned building, and even though he’s only been gone for 2 months for basic training, it feels like he’s been gone a lifetime.

“Wow, Catch Stock? That’s old,” a voice teases from the front door.

Time all but stops for a second.  “JEONGHAN?”

“I’m home!” he yells, and it feels like you can breathe again. You can hear him unlacing his boots in the foyer, and before you can untangle yourself from the sheets on the couch, he’s standing at the entrance to the living room. 

“Miss me?” he leans against the doorway, arms out. 

“You weren’t supposed to be back for another three days!” you exclaim, rushing toward him.

“Got out early, and just in time too, huh? Looks like my baby missed me enough to watch three-year-old content.” He grins, and your heart twists just so, like you’re going to die if you don’t have him in your arms right now. 

“Shut up, you weren’t picking up your phone,” you launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close, smothering his face with kisses.

“I missed you too, love,” he murmurs between your onslaught of affection. “You know I can’t answer when I’m in training.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you mutter, pulling back just enough to take him in. He looks as handsome as ever, dressed in a simple t-shirt and joggers that only accentuate his lean physique. You don’t realize how much you’d missed this—his presence, his warmth, the little quirk of his lips as he watches you ogle him (That’s a lie, you think, as he presses kisses to your lips, humming softly. You know exactly how much you’ve missed him). 

You try to burrow yourself further into his arms, but the moment is interrupted by your stomach growling. He smiles into the kiss, and it makes your heart feel warm and fuzzy and like home (Home! Jeonghan is home! Your brain offers unhelpfully. Also, can we maybe have food?). 

“Come on, I was about to make some very gourmet ramen,” you say, and he whines a little against your lips. “But since you're home early, maybe I should step it up.”

“Nooo,” he moans, his eyes crinkling in that way that makes your heart flip. “You look so delicious right now. Can we maybe skip the ramen? I’m hungry for something el-”

You shake your head in disbelief as you escape his tightening grip, letting out a bark of laughter as you run toward the kitchen, Jeonghan following closely behind. “You’re impossible,” you tease, grabbing the noodle packets from the pantry. “Food, then sex until we can’t walk, okay?”

He raises an eyebrow as he leans against the counter, taking in your appearance. You glance down at your choice of clothing: one of his shirts, tied up with an old scrunchie and a pair of Hello Kitty pants he forced you to buy with him (“come on, baby, we’d be so cute at Christmas!” And really, how could you disagree with that logic). Jeonghan’s gaze is soft, his smile lazy and affectionate, and he looks like he’s trying to commit you to memory. 

“You look nice,” he breathes, and you press a kiss to his cheek before spinning away from his grabby hands. 

“I look like I haven’t left the house in days,” you state matter-of-factly, hunting for a pot. “Aha! I would have liked to look perfect for your first night home.”

“You are perfect,” he bites his lip, voice low but playful. “Stunning, actually.”

Rolling your eyes, you turn on the stove to start boiling water for the noodles. “Agree to disagree, baby.”

He steps closer, his arms wrapping around you, chin resting gently on your shoulder. You bask in his affection for a little, nuzzling your cheek against his smile. The next time he speaks, it’s so soft you almost don’t hear it. 

“If I ever see a flaw of yours, I’d say my eyes are the flawed ones.”

You freeze for a moment, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. Turning slightly to catch his gaze, you find  his eyes sparkling with a mixture of teasing and affection. You roll your eyes playfully, smacking his shoulder with the tongs (Awful, evil man, your brain titters. How dare he make us feel this beautiful! Let’s forget about the ramen and kiss this awful, evil man until we can’t see straight). 

“And when did you get so cheesy?” you laugh, leaning your hip against the counter as you shoot him an exasperated smile.

Jeonghan's grin widens, but he doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his hands gently find yours. Lifting them to his lips, he presses featherlight kisses into your palm until you’re sure you’ve just melted into a puddle on the dingy linoleum floor. 

(Something about the harsh kitchen lighting and the way he looks into your eyes as he kisses your hands makes you feel like you’re drowning. He presses an extra kiss to the back of your ring finger, like a promise, and your heart nearly bursts). 

“Some book one of the guys gave me during training,” he mumbles into your fingers, his voice muffled but warm, like it was carrying some secret just for you. His lips brush your skin as he speaks, and his smile—lazy, familiar, and filled with affection—makes your heart swell in your chest. 

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you try to suppress the blush creeping up your cheeks. “So now you're quoting poetry?”

He shrugs, eyes glinting with amusement. “Only the good ones. It made me think of you.”

“Sap.”

“And you love it,” he shoots back, lowering your hands but keeping them in his, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles. “Besides, it worked, didn’t it?”

(You do love it. And it did work. You’re very close to having your way with him on this kitchen counter, ramen be damned. Awful, evil man!)

You scoff as you turn back to the stove, playfully yanking your hands from his, but the warmth from Jeonghan’s touch lingers. You could feel him still watching you, his presence comforting and familiar after what felt like forever, even though it had only been a few weeks. You add the noodles to the pot, stirring them absentmindedly, feeling his gaze like a soft weight on your shoulders.

Without warning, Jeonghan slips his arms around your waist again, pulling you gently into his chest. “You know,” he murmurs, his chin resting on your shoulder again, “you could’ve waited for me to make dinner. I’m pretty good at boiling water too.”

You let out a light laugh, leaning back into his embrace. “I didn’t know you were coming home tonight, Mr. Sneaky. It’s ramen or nothing, take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it,” he sighs contentedly, squeezing you a little tighter. “But only because you made it.”

As you stand there, wrapped in his warmth, a memory flashes into your mind— the night before he left for training. 

(He fucked you like a madman that night, your brain sings. He made it seem like he was going to be gone forever! Awful, evil man!)

After, he drew lazy patterns on your back, humming as the last night of summer slipped into dawn. Your head was on his chest, and you tried to memorize his heartbeat. 

It was you who broke the silence first, pressing kisses over his heart as you whispered,  “Do you have to go so soon?”

His eyes were soft as he pushed your hair behind your ears. “You know I do, baby. Just for a few weeks though.”

You tried to smile, but it didn't quite reach your eyes. “I know, but still… It’s going to feel different without you here.”

Jeonghan smiled softly, pulling you closer so you could rest your head back on his chest. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured, running his hands through your hair until you shivered.

(The world could’ve stopped spinning for all you cared, because when he looked at you with such sincerity and love that you believed him without a second thought)

You gave him a knowing look. “But you are.”

“Not really. I’ll always come back home to you,” his voice is scratchy, like he’s about to cry, and he presses kisses to your forehead until you drift off to sleep. 

(In the morning, he kissed you breathless before swinging the door shut behind him, and you swear the house had never felt more empty)

The memory stirs something deep inside you, and you blink back to the present, feeling Jeonghan’s familiar warmth still wrapped around you.

He seems to sense the shift in your mood because his grip around your waist tightens ever so slightly. “You okay?” he asks softly, his breath warm against your ear. His arms tighten around your waist ever so slightly, sensing a shift in your mood. It makes you fall in love with him all over again (Awful, evil man!)

“Yeah,” you reply, your voice a little quieter now. “Just… thinking about when you left.”

He leans his chin on your shoulder again, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck. “Told you I’d come back,” he whispers, his lips brushing your skin.

When you feel goosebumps erupt in his wake, you turn in his arms to face him. “You did,” you say softly, resting your hands on his chest. “But I still missed you.”

Jeonghan chuckles, his fingers brushing a lock of hair from your face. “I’ll always come back home to you. You know that, right?”

You nod, your heart swelling with warmth as you lean up to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I know,” you murmur against him, “but I’ll still miss you every time.”

His smile widens, and he pulls you even closer, the love in his eyes clear as day. “Then I’ll just have to keep reminding you, every time I come back.”

You raise an eyebrow, a teasing smirk forming on your lips. “By quoting cheesy poetry?”

He grins mischievously, leaning in to press soft kisses along your neck, making you squeal with laughter. “Home is where the heart is,” he recites dramatically, his breath tickling your skin. “And my heart? Well, it’s always been right here with you.”

(Try as you might, you are as fallible to Yoon Jeonghan’s charms as the rest of the world. It is a Herculean task to remain nonchalant. Awful, evil man! This was his plan all along!)

You can't help but laugh, shaking your head as you playfully push him away. “Cheesy, baby. Try something else.”

But he only chuckles, leaning back in to catch your lips with his, whispering, “No seriously, I’m writing my own poetry now. Want to hear my next line?”

“Only if it’s not about ramen,” you shoot back, grinning.

“Too late, it’s about how I miss you more than I miss ramen,” he replies, nuzzling against you, and your heart beats in time to his laugh.

(Two months ago, if someone had asked you about your ideal Friday night, Jeonghan would have answered, “Y/N’s favorite thing to do on a Friday night is be with me!” He’s right—because even on this Friday night, you curl up next to him on the couch, feeling his heartbeat sync with your own, knowing that with him home, everything is finally as it should be)

[cameronspecial]

The Help

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Racist Remark Against Hispanics, Swearing, and Suggestive Ending

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.6K

Summary: Tannyhill gets a visitor who can't help but see Y/N below her class.

A/N: Inspired by this post.

Masterlist

The front door to Tannyhill opens without a knock or an occupant from inside twisting the knob. Rafe is out on a run while Y/N is cleaning up the breakfast mess. He had made the meal so it was only fair that she took care of it. At first, she wasn’t sure about moving into the grand home when Rafe inherited it from Ward’s will, but he was quick to convince the girl it was better than living in her shack of a house on the Cut. She is wiping down the counter with her hair in a messy bun when the clatter of heels echoes through the house. Rose and Wheezie moved to the Guadalupe house after Ward’s death because Tannyhill held too many memories and Sarah moved in with John B. so the steps couldn’t belong to them. Y/N’s gaze flicks upward to find a redhead walking into the kitchen. “Ahh, finally signs of life in this house. You know you should really start with cleaning the front entrance before you clean the kitchen. The chandelier is dusty. Did Rafe fire Mrs. Lockmeyer?” the unidentified woman criticizes. Y/N realizes the other woman thinks she is the help and plays along, “Mrs. Lockmeyer is sick for the day.” It isn’t a lie, the cleaner did say she had to come in at a later day in the week because of an illness. 

“I’m glad Rafe didn’t fire her. She always did such a good job with rearranging my shoes and didn’t leave streaks on the windows like that dumb Hispanic. I don’t think she even understood English. Where is Rafe anyways?” 

“R- Mr. Cameron is out on a run. May I ask who you are?”

“Right, you are new. I’m Natasha. Rafe’s girlfriend.”

“Really? Mr. Cameron didn’t tell me about you.”

Natasha gives Y/N a belittling look, “Don’t say it like that. It’s not like you have a chance with him. But to be completely honest, I broke up with him. It was a mistake though and I’m here to rectify that. Bring my bags in. I’m going to get settled in his room.” Y/N has no time to protest before Natasha makes her way upstairs. Right on time, Rafe jogs into the kitchen with his earbuds dangling from his neck and his skin glistening with sweat. He goes to get a cool bottle of water from the fridge and kisses Y/N on the cheek. She thinks about telling him about his guest, yet she has an even more delicious way of getting back at Natasha for just walking into her home and assuming she didn’t belong there with a glance. “I’m going to go take a shower. I’ll be waiting for you to join me,” he mutters against her skin. She gives him a small nod and lets him lead the way upstairs. She lags behind him, waiting for him to enter first. Her feet pause in front of her bedroom door. 

“What the fuck. Natasha, what are you doing in my bedroom?” she hears Rafe scream inside. She holds back a snicker. Natasha responds, “Didn’t the help tell you I was upstairs?” “The help?” Rafe repeats with confusion. Y/N takes this as her opportunity to make herself known and enters the bedroom. Her arms loosely wrap around Rafe’s waist and she presses a kiss to his cheek. “I’m ready for that shower now, Handsome,” she mumbles loud enough for everyone to hear. She leaves no time to further be a part of the conversation, walking toward the bathroom and taking her shirt off to throw to Rafe. 

Natasha looks back and forward between the couple, her mouth falling open as she pieces the puzzle together. “You are dating the help?” she questions. Of course, the only thing she can see Y/N as is someone to serve a Kook. Rafe’s jaw clenches, “No. I’m dating my girlfriend. Now, if you would see yourself out, I have to go make love to my girlfriend in the shower.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

[yandere-sins]

Hi! I just currently discovered your works and I love it! Can you do a story where a serial killer (any fictional character you want, as long as it's not real people) who has gotten married to the y/n's mom but he's so obsessed with his new step-daughter the first time they met. The ending's up to you.

Hey! Thank you so much for reading my stories and requesting ♥ Took me some time to think of something, and I won't do a specific character, but I hope you enjoy it regardless!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

A long time ago, he chose to go down this path.

The decision had to be made; any waver in his resolve would have resulted in him getting caught and locked up for life. Sometimes, it was nice to be with the humans that would end up dead; sometimes, it was merely business. There were some pleasures to take from these gullible idiots. Money, sex, opportunities.

Businesswomen, housewives, lonely singles, and, if he had to, men just as much. They only sought the warmth of a lover, someone who truly understood them. And why would he not accept their gratitude and gifts for so little work as rubbing their back and telling them how special they were? It made them feel better most of the time and him richer, as their gratitude almost always ended in gifts.

And in their contentment, they didn't see the knife that was about to sink into their back as soon as they weren't useful to him anymore.

As soon as their money ran out, the gifts died down, and they started to become suspicious of him; he'd make sure to skip town after burying his latest lover in a ditch. He never met their friends, never saw what the life of his victims was, and especially: he didn't love them.

Oftentimes, he wondered, late at night, after yet another kill, what it was like to be loved and to love. His victims always looked so happy and content, hanging off his arm and whispering the magic words to him at night. What he did wasn't right, but why did it matter when he never got caught? As long as he could live in the lap of luxury that he could never achieve through honest work, he didn't really need much else.

But he was getting old.

Too old to sugar-baby his way through life, at least, too much on par in terms of age now with his victims. It physically hurt him to have to be extra careful in the future when killing random strangers. It would never give him the satisfaction or the looks of betrayal that left him all hot and bothered. But now was the last time he could find someone willing to finance his life, and giving up his prolific murder spree was better than spending the rest of his damnation in a dirty, old motel room with nothing to do.

Thus, his way of life ended. A serial killer turned houseman and loverboy to a very successful CEO and mother. Thanks to his charms, the wedding went through much faster than expected, and soon enough, with a credit card linked to her bank account and well-situated in the luxury home of his now-wife, everything could have stayed like this for a long, long time.

Until you showed up.

You were a blessing and a curse in the form of an adult stepchild. It was weird meeting the family of his victim for the first time. But the moment he laid eyes on you, his mouth began to water, pupils blown wide to spy every inch of deliciousness that you swept through the front door to his home. And despite spikes of murderous desires making his body shake uncontrollably, even more prevalent was the twisting and churning of his heart as it beat viciously against his ribs, blood rushing through his whole body and especially between his legs.

All evening long, he couldn't stop smiling at you. He sat across from you like a silly little teenage boy, nodding and listening to everything you told your mom, words dripping off your lips like honey that he wished to lick up. However, he merely did the next best thing, offering to take care of the dishes so he could lick your plate clean and steal your cutlery to enjoy later. He sat with you long into the night on the couch as you told him about yourself; you two had never met before since the wedding was such a rushed affair, and you were the trust fund child sent to an international college for your studies. There was so much to catch up on and get acquainted with.

If only he had met you sooner.

The time together was short, so he suggested all kinds of family vacations, telling his wife it was totally okay if she couldn't make it, and he'd spend time with you and bond. All was in his favor, and every second spent with you was the happiest of his life. For years, he thought that only riches and luxuries could satisfy him—but not anymore.

He had to have you.

No matter what he had to do, fate had already been decided. There was simply no way to not be with you. Slipping into your bed at night and touching you as much as possible just wasn't enough. Stealing your underwear and imagining you on your knees while he used the fabric on himself didn't quell his urges completely. Not even when he imagined you while pleasing his wife was enough, and neither was smelling you every day and pressing up to you innocently in the kitchen or hanging out with you. You going back to another country to continue your studies? Impossible. It would have killed him.

And then, the painfully put aside urges arose. The ones that screamed for blood and gore, torture, and the satisfaction of witnessing someone's last breath. He had already established himself in your life, and you liked him enough that were you to lose someone dear to you... would you run to him?

The question was just a hypothesis, but one that had him rock hard and twitching as he stared at the ceiling at night, feeling his wife—your mother—in his arm, sighing contently. What was her testament like? Would there be enough to live happily ever after with you? Would you accept your stepdad as more than just a superficial family member? Would you let him hold you? Kiss you? Lick you? Make you scream and sob?

Would you allow him to drag you into hell with him, even though he'd make it seem like heaven?

It had always been his way of doing things. Pretend to be someone perfect, pleasant, and loveable, when really, he was this cruel, pathetic monster. But a long time, he chose to go down this path of embracing the beast, and sitting up in his bed, he remembered still holding onto the table knife you used on the first day you returned home. It would be awful, downright gruesome, to be killed by her own daughter's knife, wouldn't it? Your mom would feel so betrayed by being stabbed in the middle of the night; it would be heart-wrenching and devastating.

Absolutely exhilarating.

Why change something that had always worked for him?

By tomorrow morning, you would be his.

[toournextadventure]

oblivious

Summary: You've been Vada's roommate for a while now and she still has yet to notice that you have feelings for her. You hoped accepting a date with someone else would force her hand. In a way, it did

Word Count: 4.2k Warnings: swearing, smut 18+, weed and alcohol mention Pairing: Vada Cavell x Fem!Reader (no pronouns used) A/N: I'm still getting the hang of Vada's personality so y'all bear with me, but I'm workin on it, I'll get there

“Honey, I’m home,” Vada called out, stopping you in your tracks on the way to the bathroom.

You couldn’t help smiling at Vada’s ridiculous phrase that she had started using whenever she got back to the shared apartment. If you were being honest, you couldn’t remember when she had started it; it hadn’t been too long after you had first agreed to rent an apartment together with her friends Mia and Nick. All you knew was one day she practically crashed into the apartment, said her now-famous tagline, and it stuck.

The best part of it all? She only ever said it to you. Never to Mia, never to Nick, only to you. It made your crush on her grow each time, even though you certainly didn’t need the help. Just the words alone had your stomach twisting into knots in the most delicious way.

And that little dumbass didn’t even know what she was doing.

“Don’t you have another class?” You asked with a tilt of your head. It was a bit too early for her to be home, especially on a Tuesday.

“Skipped it,” she said with her cheesy grin that never failed to make your heart race. “Why take Lit when I can have you teach me?”

“That’s not how it works, V,” you chuckled. “I can’t give you credit.”

“But you can- are you getting in the shower?”

There it was; the attention change. It happened a bit sooner than usual, but you weren’t entirely surprised. At first you had been confused at Vada’s change of topic and attention at such a fast pace, but now it was expected. At least she looked cute.

“Yes I am,” you said with a nod. “Did the towel give it away?”

“It’s Tuesday,” Vada said, completely ignoring your attempt at teasing her. “You don’t shower on Tuesdays.”

Ah. So she did pay attention to a few things.

“I got asked on a date,” you shrugged.

“A date?” She asked incredulously. Rude. “With who?”

You sighed and leaned against the doorframe. “Know that guy from my Fluid Flow class? Jacob?”

“The one with the stupid lip piercing?”

“It’s not stupid,” you said with a huff. “But yes.”

“You agreed to go on a date with him?” Vada asked incredulously. “What happened to your standards?”

“It’s not like I’m getting asked on many dates,” you argued.

“But him?” She continued.

“Well who else should I go with?” You asked. “You?”

Vada froze, her mouth still flopping open at the revelation of your plans for the evening. You wanted her to tell you not to go. To say that yes, you should go on a date with her. Maybe you were being a bit cruel to just not tell her, but you wanted her to say something. Although in hindsight maybe you shouldn’t have expected Vada Cavell to pick up on all the signs you had given her.

Which were numerous.

She shifted her weight and looked down at her feet. You could see her scuffing the toe of her shoe into the floor, a nervous habit of hers. Part of you got hopeful; she was nervous, maybe she would finally say something. Hell, you would be happy if she simply said she didn’t want you to go.

“You should go shower,” she finally said, and you felt your heart drop. “I’ll help you pick out what to wear once you’re out.”

“Right,” you said with a sigh.

The entire time you were in the shower you were seething. No, not quite seething, you were disappointed. You knew it was a bit unrealistic of you to expect Vada to know how you were feeling, especially about her, but you couldn’t help it. How could she not see that you wanted her to ask you on a date? Yes you should just do it yourself, especially at this point, but you weren’t going to risk anything.

Your father would’ve just told you to task her on your own. You were the one with the feelings, you should ask. And he would have been right, you knew that, but you didn’t want to ask. What if Vada didn’t actually like you that way? She acted goofy with Mia and Nick too, so you couldn’t use that as justification for your hopes.

By the time you got out of the shower and finished getting ready, Vada was already waiting in your room. She was hanging her head upside down on the bed while scrolling through her phone. Her brows were scrunched in an adorable frown from whatever she was looking at. The minute she noticed you standing in the doorway, she smiled wide and sat up.

“About time,” she said as she stood up and went to your closet, “I’ve got the perfect thing for tonight.”

“Perfect as in “I’ll look great” or as in “it’ll get me laid?” Because there’s a difference,” you said as you sat down on the bed and waited for Vada to come out of the closet.

Ha. You might be disappointed, but at least you were still funny. See? That was what Vada was missing out on and she didn’t even know it!

“Perfect as in “he’d be stupid not to ask you out again”,” she said with a grin as she turned around to show you what she had picked.

“Vada that’s,” you exhaled slowly, “that’s the most mundane outfit I’ve got.”

“Which is why he’d be stupid not to ask you out again,” she said, tossing everything your way. “I won’t look, promise.”

“Gee, thanks,” you mumbled to yourself as you nonetheless stood up and got dressed.

Part of you was thankful Vada had picked out a regular outfit; at least it was comfortable, and that was always a plus. Did you think Jacob would ask you out again? Absolutely not, he was a frat boy, you knew he wouldn’t ask you out again the moment you decided you weren’t going to put out. At least you would be comfortable when you were rejected.

“How do I look?” You asked, and Vada turned around so quickly she nearly fell.

The moment she actually managed to focus on you, she fell into what looked like a daze. Her jaw dropped and her eyes were looking you up and down. And for a moment, she looked like she wanted to say something. Say it, you mentally urged her, tell me to stay. You played with your fingers and watched her with hopeful eyes.

“You’re so getting laid tonight,” she whispered.

“Yippee,” you said with another huff. She was getting a lot of those out of you tonight.

“You’d better get going,” she said as she practically pushed you out of your room toward the front door. “You don’t want to be late.”

“Thought you didn’t like Jacob?” You asked.

“I don’t, but I wanna watch a movie,” she said, now opening the front door. “And you’re not invited.”

“Well that’s just rude,” you said.

“Have fun!” Vada called out as she shut the front door in your face.

You just stood there in complete shock. Had you really just gotten kicked out of your own apartment by the girl you were quite possibly in love with? Simply because she wanted to watch a movie? It was so on par for Vada that you honestly weren’t even surprised.

The door opened again and you looked in, hopeful that Vada had changed her mind. She stood in the doorway and looked at you again. Please ask me to stay, you silently begged her. But then she pushed something into your arms, which you scrambled to hold onto.

“Forgot your phone and wallet,” she said before slamming the door shut again. “Have fun!”

“Oh fuck me,” you grumbled, but nonetheless put your phone and wallet in your back pocket and left the apartment.

—---

Life sucked. It sucked and it was out to get you personally. You could get over the fact that it had started raining on the walk over to the restaurant. Then there was the fact that you had gotten lost at least three times, but that could also be forgiven. And your phone dying? Well, that was also shitty even though you had forgotten to charge it at home, so it happened.

But then you got to the restaurant and sat at the bar, like you were supposed to, and waited. And then you ordered a drink and waited some more. And some more. And wouldn’t you know it, an hour and a half and three drinks later, you were closing your tab and heading back to the apartment. The apartment that you had been kicked out of by someone who was supposed to pick up on your cues.

There was just enough alcohol in your system to have you thoroughly pissed off by the time you got back to the apartment. You could smell the weed from out in the hallway and knew Vada was either high as a kite or well on her way to it. Normally you wouldn’t care; she was respectful with it and was, honestly, pretty adorable under the influence.

Unfortunately for Vada, it just wasn’t your night.

You unintentionally slammed the door shut behind you when you entered, leaning back against it to get yourself back under control. The music was loud and obnoxious and the smell of weed was giving you a headache. Or maybe it was the alcohol. Or maybe it was the fact you got stood up. Actually, maybe it was just everything.

“Nick?” Vada’s voice came from her room. At least she wasn’t smoking out in the living room like you had initially thought.

“Just me,” you called back before exhaling slowly and walking further into the apartment. The sloshing sound of your wet shoes on the floor was horrible.

“Y/N?” Something fell to the floor with a hard thud. You looked down the hallway until you saw Vada practically falling out of her room, hitting the opposite wall fairly hard. “You’re back early.”

“Yup,” you said, popping the “p” for emphasis.

“So… did he like your outfit?” She asked as she stood up, her hands instantly going to play with the hem of her shirt. Wait… was that your shirt?

“I don’t know,” you said before finally tossing your soaking wet wallet and hopefully-dry phone onto the couch. “He never showed.”

“What?” Vada asked incredulously, her sleepy eyes suddenly widening.

You huffed. “He stood me up, V.”

“But… but he asked you,” she said in a soft voice.

“It’s whatever,” you said with a sigh as you made your way into your room with Vada hot on your heels. “He wasn’t exactly the one I wanted anyway.”

“He wasn’t?” She asked. You didn’t bother turning around to look at her as you started digging in your closet for something dry to put on. “Then why did you say yes?”

“Because I was hoping a certain someone would get the hint,” you grumbled. Truthfully you didn’t care if she even heard you or not. She was high, it was not the proper time for this revelation to come out.

“If they didn’t get the hint then they’re a complete dumbass,” she said after a moment of silence. You closed your eyes and exhaled slowly once again. “Because they’d be stupid not to ask you out.”

“Yeah they would,” you agreed quickly before grabbing a t-shirt from your closet. “Don’t look.”

You checked over your shoulder to see Vada on your bed, dutifully covering her eyes with both hands. Why did she have to actually listen? You were standing in the middle of your room, soaking wet, about to take your shirt off, and she wasn’t going to look? Dammit, Vada, lose your morals!

“Anyone would be lucky to date you,” she said while you peeled your wet clothes off. “And if they don’t realise that then they’re an idiot.”

“Keep talking, Cavell,” you mumbled to yourself; you knew she couldn’t hear you.

“If I ever had the chance to date you, I certainly wouldn’t screw it up,” she continued talking.

Now that had you slowing your movements, taking your time to finish kicking your pants off. It left you in your shirt and underwear, but that wasn’t on your mind. You slowly turned to look at Vada, who still had her hands over her eyes, as you went over her words.

Did she really think that? Was that the sign you had needed to know that she actually liked you back? Yes you had been playing this game for around three years at that point. And yes, you should have said something ages ago, even your dad had said so. But was she admitting that she liked you?

“Who said you didn’t have a chance?” You asked slowly, your eyes still glued to where Vada was playfully swinging her legs over the side of your bed.

“Who said I did have a chance?” She asked in reply. “I’m not stupid, I’m not your type.” You stepped closer to the bed. “Your type is a bunch of nerds who are way below your league.” You sat down on the bed beside her. “Which you should change, by the way, you can do so much better than all those other-”

-you leaned forward to capture Vada’s lips with yours, silencing her rant. It wasn’t a long kiss, you didn’t want to give off the wrong idea. Or maybe you did, you weren’t sure yet. All you knew was she was going to keep talking until she either fell asleep or you silenced her, and honestly, a kiss was the best way. It killed two birds with one stone.

When you pulled away, you watched as her hands pulled down her face and she looked up at you. Her eyes were still bloodshot and you could still smell the weed on her clothes, but she was looking at you clearly. There was a slight flush to her freckled cheeks, and you would have kissed her again if it meant she would stay looking just like that.

“You kissed me,” she said softly.

“Yeah,” you said with a nod and a poor attempt at hiding your smile. “I did.”

“I thought you liked someone though?”

“Oh my god,” you groaned. “Are you serious?”

“What?” She asked as she sat up. “Are you serious? What about that person you like-”

“-I like you, Vada,” you practically shouted. She fell silent, something she didn’t do often. “You’re the other person that I like.”

“You- you like me?” She asked with wide eyes. “Me?”

“For fuck’s sake,” you groaned, “yes you.”

Vada nodded slowly as her eyes fell to a spot on the bed, close to where your hand was resting. You could practically see the gears turning in her head, going over this new revelation. Part of you was upset at yourself for telling her such a thing now, when you were grumpy and a little tipsy and she was high and unexpecting. Terrible timing, really.

“I thought I was the only one with those feelings,” she finally said, slowly so as to get her thoughts out properly. Something you adored about her. “That you weren’t interested.”

“Vada, I’ve been dropping hints for the past year,” you said with a soft sight. Not a frustrated one, simply to break the tension. “Even Nick and Mia knew.”

“I didn’t want to assume,” she said without looking at you. “I didn’t want to risk not having you around just because I caught feelings.”

“You don’t just catch feelings, you know,” you said as you leaned forward a little more so you could force her to look at you.

“And you really do like me?” She asked, looking up into your eyes; suddenly, she seemed a hell of a lot more sober. “Like, for real?”

“What is this, high school?” You asked with a snort. “Yes, Vada, I like you for real.”

“So does that mean I can kiss you again?” She asked, perking up at the mere thought. “Because your lips are really soft and I think I could kiss them forever if you would let me-”

-you leaned forward and kissed her again, immediately cutting her off. But this time you didn’t pull back; you leaned even further into her, your hand moving to rest on the back of her neck. She grabbed you by the front of your shirt and pulled until she was laying down and you were leaning over her.

“Wait,” she mumbled against your lips, “you like me enough to have sex with me, right?”

“Just shut up, V,” you groaned as you kissed her again.

She didn’t argue.

You weren’t sure if you should blame it on the alcohol, or the weed, or the revelation of it all, but you weren’t in the mood to be patient. Night after night you had dreamed of having Vada in your bed, teasing her until she was a mess underneath you. But now that you had her, you just wanted to hear her fall apart.

Clearly she was in the same mood as you because her hands quickly found their way under your shirt until they brushed against your ribs. It tickled and sent a shiver down your spine, which you felt her smile about. You knew it wasn’t a competition. That didn’t stop you from placing your knee between her thighs and pressing up against her.

“Oh shit,” she groaned against your lips as her nails scratched against your skin.

You kept your knee stationary as she grinding against it hesitantly. Even through her boxers you could feel how wet she was; it wouldn’t take long before she left your thigh wet too. You started kissing your way across her jaw, leaving small kisses below her ear before moving down her neck.

Her hands left a fire in their wake as she moved them up, quickly sliding them up to your breasts that were no longer confined by the wet bra you had been wearing earlier. You both inhaled sharply when she brushed her knuckles against your nipples; her hips stuttered for only a moment before resuming.

“Hang on,” Vada whispered into your ear, and you stiffened before sitting up.

Had you done something wrong? There hadn’t been much, but what if she had decided she wasn’t okay with it anymore? It was fine, you would respect it and wouldn’t do anything else, but fuck. Fuck, maybe you had just pushed it a little too fast. You knew you should have kept your cool.

“Take it off,” she said as she pulled on your shirt lightly before struggling to get her own shirt off.

Oh. Oh right.

“Never hesitate to free the titties,” she said with a cheesy smile.

“Never say that again,” you groaned, only smiling when your shirt was hiding your face.

“I just know how to appreciate a- holy shit.”

You watched Vada’s jaw drop - again - once your shirt was finally off. Her eyes were zeroed in on one thing. Well, two things, and even though you felt a little self-conscious, you knew it was just Vada. No, not just Vada, it was your Vada. Who was still halfway in her shirt and clearly too distracted to continue.

“You’re such a horndog,” you mumbled as you leaned forward to help her pull her shirt the rest of the way over her head.

“I hit the jackpot,” she whispered.

“Just lay back down,” you said as you pushed her shoulder lightly and watched her fall back onto the bed, her eyes still glued to your breasts.

“I can still touch?” She asked.

“Yes, V,” you chuckled, “you can still touch.”

“Oh fuck yes,” she whispered before pulling you back in for a kiss.

Just as you figured, her hands instantly found your breasts again. Each touch sent a tingling sensation down to your core. Maybe you shouldn’t have mentally teased Vada earlier for being so wet. Even though you had no proof yet, you just knew you were going to be soaked if this went on much longer.

While Vada continued focusing on her newest obsession, you just let yourself feel her. Her skin was so incredibly soft and warm. It was exactly what you had expected from her. The muscles in her stomach tensed underneath your fingers before relaxing again. When you brushed your knuckles against her hip, she giggled into your mouth.

“I’m ticklish,” she said.

“I can tell,” you answered with your own smile and another kiss.

“You’re just being too soft,” she continued. Oh Vada. You kept moving your hand. “Soft touches tickle.” Your hand effortlessly slipped past the waistband of her boxers that were far too big. “Especially on my hips-”

-she stopped herself with a moan when you finally managed to rub your fingers over her clit. Oh god she was wet, you almost struggled to stay in the right spot. But when you heard her moan again, her head thrown back against your mattress, well it was worth the struggle.

“Fuck you’re good at this,” Vada managed to gasp out when you circled her clit again.

“Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up,” you mumbled before leaving kisses on Vada’s neck. Her hands tangled in your hair as she pulled you up into a real kiss.

“Did you have a martini tonight?” Vada asked.

“Seriously?”

“You taste like a martini,” she said, her breath coming out in huffs as you continued to slowly circle her clit. Not enough to get her off, but fast enough to keep building her up.

And then it hit you. Oh. Oh, Vada was nervous. You had both talked of your personal exploits and experiences so you knew she wasn’t a virgin. Yet she had always seemed a bit bashful about the whole thing. It all made sense now; she was simply nervous.

You removed your hand and tried not to smile at Vada’s whine at the loss of sensation. But she quickly shut up when you grabbed one of her hands and slid it under your own underwear, doing your best not to moan at the feel of her fingers on you. And just as you had expected, and much like Vada, you were soaked. Embarrassingly so.

“Holy fuck,” Vada groaned against your lips before leaning up and capturing your lips.

She bit your bottom lip when you replaced your hand and continued circling her clit. Usually you would tease, but with Vada? Right then and there, when you were so humiliatingly sensitive and probably wouldn’t last very long? No, you wanted to make her cum until she was seeing stars.

And as you moved your fingers faster, you knew it wouldn’t take long. It was in the little pants and moans she let out, the squirming of her hips, the spastic movements of her fingers. Not that you could judge, you were losing your rhythm as well, doing your best to keep your composure even as she continued to turn you to putty under her fingers.

“I’m close,” she panted. 

Thank god, you thought as you rubbed your finger in faster, tighter circles. Unlike Vada, you couldn’t bring yourself to talk, knowing the second you opened your mouth you would let out a moan that would haunt you for the rest of your life. It was only a few more seconds before Vada pulled back, her eyes squeezed shut as she stilled beneath you. Her fingers continued moving, and you felt your own orgasm wash over you. You let out a groan as you rutted against her fingers to chase the high, only letting yourself fall beside her when the feeling had dissipated.

“Holy shit,” Vada whispered. “We can do that again, right?”

“Oh my god,” you chuckled as you lifted your hands to cover your eyes. “We just finished.”

“But we can do it again, right?” She asked.

You rolled over onto your side and looked at her. At the sheen of sweat covering her half-naked body and left her practically glowing under the singular ceiling light in your room. The rise and fall of her chest that was slowly but steadily returning back to normal. The absolutely stunning smile on her face that had your chest feeling warm and your stomach swarming with butterflies.

“How about we shower and then sleep,” you suggested. “And maybe we can do it again tomorrow.”

Vada turned her head to look at you, her smile still present although looking a little more mischievous.

“Can we do it in the shower?”

“Never mind, I’m going without you.”

“Wait, hang on!”

You smiled to yourself as you quickly shut the bathroom door behind you, effectively locking Vada out. She stomped her foot - which you could imagine perfectly - before walking off. You half expected her to stay gone until you heard more shuffling on the other side and something slid under the door. With a half-cocked head, you picked up the piece of paper.

No boobs? :(

“Not anymore,” you called out through the door, to which Vada replied with a groan as she finally walked away, presumably to your room.

As you got in the shower, you couldn’t help but smile. Maybe you should thank Jacob for standing you up. He had accidentally made a fantastic wingman.

[the-teufort-nine]

My TF2 Fic Rec List [ Fanfics I've Read That You Should Too]

*cracks knuckles* right, let's get started! X Reader fics are not included bc I already did a list of them for an ask. Mind the tags and ratings, as always. I'll add to this as I collect more, but its decently long as is

Symbol Key:

** = Incomplete

~~ = Personal favourite

++ = Under 10k

SpeedingBullet:

~~Running Blind by TheTriggeredHappy

(( Scout's eyes are badly damaged in battle and for some reason, Medic's gun can't fix him. Until they figure out how to heal Scout, he needs someone to look after him and keep him safe.

Sniper is given the job.

[3rd person limited, Scout's POV, some character development done on a whim] ))

The SpeedingBullet fanfic. If you like Scout X Sniper, and you haven't read this one yet, I don't know what to tell you. You are severely missing out on not only a great romance story, but also fantastic team dynamics. Also has an available Podfic!

++From a Hospital Bed by SlightlyLessThanAnon

(( Jeremy wakes up in the hospital, his brain struggling the find coherent thoughts as the world churns around him, in and out of consciousness.

He finds the team may care about him a little more than he thought they did. ))

Short but sweet. More whole team fluff than strictly SpeedingBullet. Very cute.

~~Golden Brown, as well as its sister fic, Take Me Out by Ali_Ker (Alina_Kerrin)

(( After seeing his co-worker in a new light, Scout is faced with unknown feelings and a new, distracting perspective on things. ))

This lovely author can be found here under the handle @alikerao3

Grouped these two together because they are they same story, but told from the perspectives of Scout and Sniper respectively. Definitely a bit of a heavier read, especially for anyone who has dealt with Catholic guilt or internalized homophobia, but my God is it worth it. Don't just read one thinking it isn't worth it to read the other fic. Read both. Also, check out the song that inspired the title.

~~Going Through The Motions by AussieBookworm

(( Working under RED can be repetitive at times - but nothing like this. After a curse is fired his way, Scout is forced to live through the same day over and over and over again. It should be easy for someone as perfect as Scout to break the curse, right? As long as he doesn't have to confront the things he's been feeling towards Sniper it should be a piece of cake! ))

Possibly my absolute favourite TF2 fic right now. Scout gets character development out the ass, Demo has a prominent, important role, and there's a plot twist so good it had me tweaking out. TW for Suicide as a method used to get out of a time loop. Absolutely incredible, and it needs more love.

Gills and Gunpowder by popkeeki

(( Monsters are becoming increasingly rare. Between getting pushed to the periphery of society or being targeted by traffickers, life is hard when you are not (entirely) human. Like many others, Scout tries to keep his true form a secret. It has never really been a problem. That is, until a nosy teammate catches him mid-swim. ))

SpeedingBullet Mermaid AU!! Good luck finding a fic with this premise that also reaches this level of quality.

**~~Pet by Anonymous

(( Sniper's terrified of losing the one person he has in his life. It turns out there's a convenient solution to that: just make sure he has no way out, and the rest will follow.

Scout wakes up in a van he knows all too well, loopy and hungover, and Sniper's waiting for him.

*

Or: Learning to live with claustrophobia in small spaces Or: Making the best of assisted living Or: You can’t outrun a fucking bullet ))

Are you like me? Do you enjoy Scout whump and Yandere!/Possessive Sniper? SpyDad? Do you want more of it in your life? If the answer is yes, than Pet is for you! No NSFW, just pure, delicious kidnapping and one-sided love.

General Fanfic Recommendations:

++Something's Up With Respawn by Camelot_taurus, Old Works (HarveyDangerfield)

(( Respawn starts to glitch, and the Administrator sets Engineer to work fixing it.

It doesn't take long for him to find out exactly what's going ))

Super funny, weird little oneshot. Basically, Respawn starts glitching and producing fucked up, Paperjam Dipper-esque clones of the Mercs.

++Mask Off by MatryoshkaDoll413

(( Scout is sick. Really sick. 'If we can't get this fever under control it's the hospital or the morgue' sick, and Respawn can't help him this time. They'd already tried that. He's gotten so delirious he's fighting Medic every second he's awake, not really lucid enough to remember so much as his own name, much less that of any of the team. Medic is ready to put him under full sedation and try and work things out from there, but Spy has an idea. ))

Wholesome SpyDad fic. Spy actually acts like a dad for once, for his sick little bunny.

~~++Scout, Respond by MatryoshkaDoll413

(( Scout wakes up in a dark, unknown place, with rocks bearing down on him and a spotty recollection as to how he ended up there in the first place. The only thing that keeps him sane is the voice of his team in his ear, telling him to talk, to breath, and, more than anything, to stay awake. ))

Scout gets trapped beneath a collapsed building, and receives comfort from his team over his headset while they race to dig him out. Super cute, definitely a must read, and I've done so more than once.

pick it all up (and start again) by bugbee

(( The clues had always been there, he had just never wanted to see them. Maybe neither of them had, instead content to deny the truth before their eyes for the rest of their days because it was better than confronting the alternative. Except Scout had died, and Spy wasn’t able to keep on pretending for his last moments. A part of Jeremy was glad for it, despite the simmering rage and betrayal and hurt. So when he tried to look God in the eye and tell Him that Tom Jones was his father… He couldn’t. Not really.

(Scout discusses his parentage with God, and stays dead for a little while longer. Well. A lot longer. On the plus side, he gets to attend his own funeral reception.) ))

An alternate take on Scout's death from the comics. Very Scout centric, obviously, and ends happily.

~~A Little Bird Told Me… by the_soup_specter

(( Medic learns a secret— something personal, powerful, big enough to cause a rift in the team of mercenaries that could tear two of them apart. And for once in his life… he’s not sure how to proceed.

With no better ideas, Medic decides to ask his fellow mercenaries for advice. But as dueling viewpoints begin to pile up, will he be able to make a decision before the team is changed forever? ))

Medic learns Spy is Scout's dad, and spills the beans. Everything turns out ok, but man the aftermath initially ain't pretty.

~~seven times he has to explain (and one time he doesn’t have to) by conner_is_alive

(( the trans scout obsession has me in a vice

also if i don’t vent my trans sadness i will literally rip a government building down brick by brick lmao ))

The fic that made me a trans Scout believer. If you're on the fence about that headcanon, maybe give this fic a read.

**~~Kith And Kin by BOREDGrace23

(( Mick never thought much of the BLU team. They were just clones, after all. Designed to be their opponents in a meaningless war.

That's why when he woke up, his vision blurry, his brain blistering from a headache like he'd just woken up from a hangover, and several burning questions about what had happened, he thought it was strange that they hadn't killed him already.

//

Or, BLU are clones and RED are decidedly not. They’re then forced to work together when their teams disappear. ))

If you like Emesis Blue, or horror in general, go read Kith And Kin. And when you finish, go give @boredgrace23 some love for such an incredible fic.

**++Der Junge by UpInFlamesWriting

(( Everyone on the team knows that Scout & Medic do not get along. They're like Sniper & Spy, except less bloodthirsty about it. Medic scares Scout, & Scout doesn't give Medic a reason to like him. When the two of them start being more than friendly all of a sudden, the team starts to worry, especially when it becomes obvious that Medic & Scout are keeping secrets from them. Scout & Medic are not about to tell the rest of the team that they are a pair of transsexual men, especially when Medic agrees to help Scout in his transition. For all the weirdness that goes on in the base, the world is not kind to queer people, & they aim to keep the reason behind their friendship a secret, even if it kills them. ))

Trans Scout and Trans Medic solidarity fic. I need more of this.

Eight Mercenaries and A Toddler by ChaosandMayhem

(( When Respawn malfunctions and their annoying Scout is turned into something far more precocious, it'll take all of the RED team's wits and patience to look after him. At the same time, Engineer must find a way to turn Scout back into an adult before the BLUs-or anyone else-realizes what's happened. No pairings, just a bunch of exhausted trained killers and one hyperactive child. ))

An Ancient Text from 2012 and the only FF.Net fic on this list, EMaAT is a classic for me. Lot's of Spy backstory, if memory serves. Quotes from this live rent free in my mind.

PracticalEspionage:

++Under the Lake by Her_AngelEyes

(( Engineer goes fishing. Hilarity ensues. ))

Don't let the description fool you. This is a non-con/mind break fic. If you like darkfic stuff, than this is for you~

[aihaloos]

Tempted to write a replaced au twst fic where Yuu (or alternatively, I'll use my Yuu, Riyuu, who is basically who I'm writing this for) used to be the cutest girl around, the cheery one who's always around everyone, the one you can't seem to dislike even if your crush falls for her because she earnestly says sorry (even though it's not her fault) and will always help you out if you need her back in her old school. But one day, a new girl comes around and her whole reputation got destroyed. She helps the new girl adjust, tells her all the rumours and introduces her to all the popular kids. But the girl ends up backstabbing her, telling the popular girls rumours about how she intentionally plays up the act to steal their crushes to her, and lies to the boys, telling them she's just playing with their hearts and that she's a horrible person.

Yuu ends up alone and excluded, being seen as "annoying" and only having a few close friends who doesn't really interact with her in public in fear of their reputation being ruined. She ends up miserable at school, and wishes to not go anymore. But one day comes a saving grace, she gets whisked by a mysterious black carriage into Twisted Wonderland, or more specifically, Night Raven College. She doesn't mind working if it meant she doesn't have to deal with her old school, there was still 1 and a half years left of school and she doesn't want to deal with all ghe group projects to be assigned that will inevitably end with everyone not wanting to team up with her. Plus, as annoying Grim is, he's like the animal friend all of the anime and storybook protagonists she knows has, and she doesn't mind him too much.

Some things did change after she and Grim got officially enrolled, but she had no problem adapting to the social expectations of the world, part time jobs with Sam -- and occasionally the canteen -- paid enough to get her tools for cooking basic but delicious food, and new friends without the weight of her past helped her get settled comfortably.

The existence of Overblots stunned her for a bit, but a peek into Riddle and Leona's memories helped her understand the concept, even if just a little. However, things began to change eerily simlarly to her old school when a new girl comes, also in a similar position to her, getting transported to a new, unfamilliar world, and seemingly hailing from a similar world to the Earth she knows. She warmly welcomes her, eager to finally befriend another girl, but it seems that the girl does not share the same enthusiasm.

The girl only barely responds to Yuu's attempts at forming a friendship, and always seems to talk her in a condescending way, and often dismisses her, and especially so whenever there are any boys around.

Yuu will not deny any statements claiming she's an attention seeker or that she plays up her sweet innocent girl act, but she knows to never, ever sacrifice a bystander for it. But if someone insists on war with her... well that's another, different story. She's learnt her lesson of being overly optimistic, and she will not make the same mistake twice. She will not let her make her life a living hell more than it already is with Crowley's irresponsibleness.

Aaand thus begins the story. Or well, however you wanna continue it. I'm honestly in favour of most Housewardens (Kalim, Vil, and Idia in particular. I'll put my reasoning in a few paragraphs down) Adeuce, Tweels, and Ortho for team Yuu. Why?

Well, first of all, Adeuce. This is mostly because the duo is like. with Yuu since Day 1, as much of a bitch as Ace is, I think those two are the most likely to trust and know Yuu well enough to not believe the lies R (< Replacer) tells. Especially Deuce, he doesn't want to betray a friend he knew for quite a while, that would not be very honor student-like of him!! And she helped him out in a lot of situations too! He doesn't want to hurt you after all the trouble you go through to help him, and also knowing how horrible your living conditions are. Ace would most likely give in to peer pressure if the student body is overwhelmingly in favour of R, but as of now, he maybe enjoys your company just a bit more than R. Just a bit, promise.

Tweels I feel like is self-explanatory. Those two are perceptive as fuck istg it scares me. Jade especially. I feel like the two would just toy with R for a bit despite her facade and lies before dropping her after she bothers them for attention and favours one too many times.

(Ortho ties in with Idia so I'll explain him in Idia's paragraph)

Kalim is actually very emotionally intelligent. He can come off annoying and stupid, but from all the scenes I see of him, he's actually really good at dealing with people. Have you seen how he deals with the Scarabia residents after Jamil's OB??? The way he phrases his sentences?? He didn't force or even plead with them to forgive Jamil, he simply asks them to wait before making permanent judgements, and I think he's gonna be uncomfy with how condescendingly R talks to Yuu, and even if he's used to people going after him for money, I feel like R mostly eyeing him for money and how she "secretly" sighs in annoyance everytime she goes out of the party for a "bathroom break" will only solidify his dislike/discomfort, even if he doesn't show it.

Vil is also kind of self-explanatory if you read into his character and not just the shell the official English localization makes for him. (I could rant for hours about how the official tl portrays his character istg. He's hardworking and he actually didn't attempt to poison Neige out of pure jealousy, he did it because he felt like all his efforts to be beautiful will never be able to surpass Neige, who, in his eyes, always seemed to be innocent and naturally beautiful. He feels like the villain in Neige's story. He feels like he is reduced to what he often plays as, a snobbish, overconfident villain obsessed with overthrowing the hero. And because of it, it became a twisted self-fulfilling prophecy, pushing him to, in a fit of despair, be that same villain everyone sees him as.) I really don't think he will take well to R's condescension to Yuu, who genuinely wants to befriend R. (I actually have a whole thing in my head where Yuu and Vil occasionally have sleepovers where they do skincare together after the whole VDC thing happened. I feel like this is also a "vent sesh" of sorts for the both of them, just to air out their grievances without much seriousness, and I think Yuu would admit to wanting a fellow girl in the school that she could befriend, since no matter what, being the only girl can be exhausting.) Ik Vil's not a girl but he is such a girls' girl istg.

Idia... this mostly ties into Ortho and The STYX Incident, but like,, I think we can all agree on this one,, Idia is smart and capital V Very pessimistic. Would you rather trust the girl you've known for a while, who saw your memories, who helped you in awkward social situations when she can and is besties with your brother or some random new girl who trash talks said girl behind her back? The former, right? Plus, even if Yuu did only hang out with him and his brother because she likes to secretly laugh at him behind his back, there's mo guarantee R wouldn't do the same, given his experience. And he would rather have someone who actively helps him and his brother out than someone who wouldn't.

I didn't put Malleus in because of how canon him actually treats Yuu. I feel like the fandom kind of put on rose-tinted glasses on with his character, and kind of ignored some things like, idk... him just leaving them to fend for themselves homeless during Octavinelle... maybe he thought Crowley would offer them a place to stay but like... I'm still bothered by how didn't atleast offer a spare room in Diasomnia. He's a housewarden goddamnit. He's not as distant or scary as the rumours say but like. still rubbed me the wrong way.

Anyways I don't think my attention span will let me write it to completion so if anyone likes this and wants to write it feel free. Pls tag me if you do tho. I would love to read it :3

[sludge-saturday]

nsfw alphabet ☆ connor rk800

a/n: pretty self-explanatory, apologies for any ooc content and/or repetitiveness! enjoy! :3

TEMPLATE CREDIT

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

☆ Connor NEVER lets his partner go to sleep without making sure they're okay first, that they have everything they need to feel comfortable. He will hold them close as they come down from their high, petting their hair and rubbing their back. "You're okay, I'm right here," he would soothe. And once his partner is satisfied with the post-orgasm cuddle, he will briefly leave their arms to fetch a glass of water. "Hydration is important after intense physical activity..." he would rattle on, unable to help himself. And you KNOW he would make them drink the whole thing before falling asleep. He's naturally a stickler for his partner's health and post-sex care is no exception.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

☆ Connor has never given too much thought to what part of him is his favorite, considering he's never been presented with the notion before. After his deviancy, though, he has grown fond of his impeccable memory. It comes in handy when him and his partner are between the sheets and he remembers just where to kiss, just where to touch to make them squirm. He takes note of every single reaction he draws from his partner and catalogues it, saving it for future reference. That way he knows how to make them feel just right, again and again and again.

☆ As for his partner, Connor simply cannot choose a favorite body part. He loves every single thing about them, everything that makes them so utterly human. He loves the soft feeling of their skin as he gently squeezes it underneath his palms. He loves the noises that erupt from their throat when they're lost in the throes of pleasure and the feeling of their plush lips as he muffles them with his mouth. He loves the feeling of their pulse, their lifeforce, underneath his lips as he kisses down their neck. He loves the way his partner's face looks as they orgasm, face twisting and contorting in pleasure as their mouth hangs open and their head is thrown back in ecstasy. He loves the delicious arch of their back as they press their body flush to his, unable to escape his calculated touch. He simply can't choose!

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically... I’m a disgusting person)

☆ Connor loves to cum inside his partner. After all, there's no possibility of pregnancy (if anatomy permits) with his synthetic semen so he can creampie them all he wants. He loves when he's getting close to orgasming and he wraps his arms tightly around his partner, tucks his head in their neck, and buries himself to the hilt as he fills them deep inside. His hips would stutter and he would cry out, whimpering as he shoots hot rope after hot rope. And when he comes down, his absolute favorite part is pulling out of them and watching the white, sticky substance gently drip out of them. It makes him feel as close to human as he possibly could. It makes him feel alive. And if his partner really wants to make sure that round two is in the near future, all they have to do is reach in between their legs and tuck the cum back in, making sure not a single drop is wasted. Connor is already raring to go when he watches them take those same fingers and lick them clean, staring up at him with hooded eyes and moaning at the taste of him.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

☆ He really, really, really wants his partner to peg him. He sometimes will watch amateur porn in his free time (inside his head, of course) as he researches how to better please his partner, and occasionally he will stumble upon videos of people who are usually tops getting pegged. He watches as they take one, two, three fingers in preparation for someone's cock and feels his own straining against his pants at the sight of them being fucked into the mattress. He imagines his partner doing the same to him and feels his fans whirring faster, his internal temperature rising at the thought of their roles being reversed. At the thought of himself being fucked into as opposed to fucking into his partner. There are probably sensors there that he's never felt stimulation from before. He needs to know, even if just once. And late at night, when they're away, he strokes himself and moans softly thinking about how it might feel to have them inside him. "Please," he would beg to the empty room. "Please... need you inside..."

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

☆ Since Connor's prototype was not made for sexual activity, he would pretty much be clueless to start. But there's something sweet about it, his partner having to show him the ropes and introduce him to this new world he's never experienced before. Post-deviancy, he would willingly upgrade his model to simulate sex acts if they mentioned wanting to try it with him, fit with a sizable cock and an orgasm program. He's incredibly nervous and a bit awkward to start out, with hesitant touches and trembling hands. Getting him to grow comfortable with the intimacy would be a slight challenge as he has never done anything like this before and most of all, he's worried about hurting his partner. But with time and reassurance, he grows more confident in his movements and begins to accept pleasure for himself. Watching him blossom like this is simultaneously rewarding and exciting, opening up new doors to even greater possibilities.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

☆ Connor is a sucker for missionary. Simple and sweet. He loves being able to look at every inch of his partner, to watch as they shake and squirm underneath him as their ankles behind his back lock him in. Being able to watch their every reaction, every fucked-out facial expression they make as he pumps in and out of them drives him wild. But as vanilla as he likes to be, Connor is still very capable of teasing. He'll go slow at first, rolling his hips at an unhurried pace, relishing in the wet noises filling the air coupled with his partner's frustrated whines. "Faster, please!" They'll beg him, clutching onto his shoulders and staring up at him with pleading eyes. He'll respond with harsher thrusts that still match his leisurely pace from before, his hips snapping to meet their own. He likes to draw this out for as long as possible, enjoying just how cutely impatient his partner can get before he gives them what they want. And he will... eventually.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

☆ A mixture of both, I'd say. Foreplay is full of giggles and soft smiles as him and his partner fool around with one another. For instance, he's the kind of person who (once comfortable enough) will come up behind his partner while they're distracted and playfully sneak his hands underneath their shirt. They'll laugh, tickled by the slight chill and turn around in his arms to press a smitten kiss to his lips. They'll hook their fingers into the belt loops of his jeans and pull him impossibly closer, and it's like a switch is flipped in him (almost literally, haha!). With a simpering smile from his partner, he is already pushing them towards the bedroom. It is very easy to turn him on with his new programming when it's adjusted to the right intensity. Once in bed, he'll still maintain this frisky demeanor as he murmurs little praises while running his hands all over his partner's body, but things will take a turn for the sensual as their touches become more slower, more appreciative. Grinding hips and gentle sighs would turn into what they both really want, if you catch my drift. Connor is an attentive partner and would put all of his focus into making them feel good with serious concentration. He is completely dedicated to them, every inch of his frame and every fiber of his being.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

☆ Connor would like that to be entirely up to his partner. As mentioned previously, Connor's program comes with a custom-made cock, and that includes its appearance. If they like a little stubble, he'll make sure its the perfect length before placing the order. Completely hairless? Fine by him. The length of his hair down there is in their hands and he likes it that way. If he had to have a request, though, he would like the color to match the hair on his head. He enjoys keeping a uniform look, and his pubic hair wouldn't be an exception.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect...) 

☆ As much as Connor loves being playful, he still can be a romantic! One of his favorite things to do on his days off from the DPD when his partner is still working is to cook their favorite meal. He'll decorate the table with candlelight and a beautiful bouquet, pulling out plates/silverware only saved for special occasions. He'll turn on their favorite chill music and play it softly, eagerly anticipating when they'll walk through the door. And when they do, he's there to greet them with a sweet kiss and his lovely set up. They'll eat as Connor asks them about their day, listening intently. When they're finished, Connor willingly tasks himself with cleaning up as he wants his partner to just relax.

☆ Once the two of them take things to the bedroom, he would be extra sweet and take things extra slow. He would rub his hands up and down his partner's hips, fingers toying with the hem of their shirt. "I'm so proud of you," he'd praise. "You worked so hard today... it's time you got to take a load off." He would kiss from their lips down their neck, gently sucking and nibbling to get them nice and aroused (Remember, he knows just what to do!). His hands would creep underneath their shirt, a silent request to remove it. And with their permission, he does. He would kiss all around their chest with love and care, worshipping every inch of them. "I love you so much," he would whisper against their skin. "You're so beautiful... let me make you feel good. You deserve it."

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

☆ On those nights where his partner would have to be away, Connor wouldn't be able to stop thinking about them. He would lay in their shared bed, overcome with their subtle scent they left behind. But it wasn't enough. Almost shamefully he would pull a shirt out of their drawer. Crawling back into bed, he would press the fabric to his nose and take a deep breath in, analyzing every aspect of the smell with his olfactory receptors. It was intoxicating and he grows hard at record speed. Gingerly, he reaches inside his briefs and grabs himself, already leaking synthetic cum. He shudders out a breath as he palms himself, taking another whiff of his partner's smell. He was so embarrassed but he just couldn't help himself. He reaches into his system memory and plays back his favorite scenarios of the two of them in bed, watching as he gets closer and closer to his climax. The tantalizing mixture of the smell from the shirt and his thumb teasing the head of his cock is unbearable, and he cums rather quickly. And after cleaning himself up he carefully folds up the shirt and places it back where he found it, mentally scolding himself for acting so primally. But a secret part of him enjoyed it. It made him feel human.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

☆ As mentioned before, Connor is very vanilla. It would be up to his partner to introduce new kinks to him, and they would have to be incredibly tame to start out. One that Connor grows an eventual affinity for is blindfolding. He loves being temporarily deprived of his sight, relinquishing a form of control to his partner. He relies on his vision to make sense of the world around him and that sweet surrender is oh, so exciting to him. Adorable moans and whimpers would bubble from his voice modulator as he feels his partner's mouth all over him, their touch always unexpected but never unappreciated. For extra points, blindfold him with his tie and give him a blowjob! He'll be putty in his partner's hands as he grows harder and needier at the sounds of them suckling and lapping at his cock, hands lovingly caressing his thighs. And if they call him "good boy," he'll have to fight off cumming immediately. He's just so pleased that he's doing a good job for his lover and loves to hear it.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

☆ As Connor explores his deviancy, he likes to do things as traditionally "human" as possible, for lack of a better word. As far as his initial understanding goes, sex occurs exclusively in the bedroom so, naturally, that is where he would feel the most comfortable doing it. But as he grows more comfortable with the idea of straying off the beaten path, he will allow himself to become more secure in having sex in other places around the home. Strictly in the home, for that matter. He doesn't like the idea of having sex in any place that isn't private, that isn't a space only the two of them share.

☆ With that being said, though, he is open to taking his partner anywhere he can. If he starts feeling them up in the kitchen and just can't be bothered to carry them to the bedroom, he will fuck his partner right there on the counter. If their cuddling on the couch turns into heated kissing and heavy petting, he will fuck his partner into the cushions as his nails dig into the armrest behind them. If they're taking a simple shower together and he catches a soft moan when he's sponging them clean, he will pin them up against the shower wall, bouncing them up and down on his cock with inhuman strength. There's nowhere in the house that isn't free reign for the two of them and Connor loves it.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

☆ With Connor's new sex programming there also comes a dial that can adjust the intensity of it. The more it's turned up, the easier it is to get him going. It's perfect for when he and his partner have a few coinciding days off and they want to get up to some shenanigans. During this instance, it does not take much to turn him on. If his partner is wearing comfortable clothing that shows off their ass, he will spring a boner just from watching them bend over as they fold laundry. If they're kissing and his partner has their hands clasped behind his neck, he will let out horny little gasps into the kiss as they play with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. And if his partner likes to dance, he will watch their hips sway and their arms lift over their head with an uncurbed hunger. One that can only be satiated with the feeling of their body against his.

☆ And he'll let them know, too. He'll walk up behind them and place his hand on their waist, pushing so that they turn around to face him. Without warning, he will take their chin between his finger and thumb and trap their lips in a searing kiss. He'll push their waist to be flush against his and he'll inhale deeply, taking in their very essence with every receptor he has. On the exhale, he'll groan softly and rub up their back with his free hand. Pulling apart, he places his forehead against theirs and closes his eyes with upturned eyebrows. "Need you," he'll whimper. "I have to have you, now."

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

☆ Connor WILL NOT hurt his partner. Even if they ask for it. It's a direct violation of everything he stands for. He absolutely loathes the thought of his love being in pain, even if it's pleasurable for them. He simply won't do it. He also won't be okay with anything that could potentially be a biohazard (blood, human waste, etc.). He can only hope that they will respect these wishes, because that also is a turn-off for him. He doesn't like when he isn't listened to and when he is made to do things he doesn't want to, now that his deviancy is in full swing. It makes him upset when people don't acknowledge his free will and his ability to make his own decisions. His lover wouldn't get a free pass on this either.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

☆ Connor loves both! As far as giving goes, he is a bit unsure of what to do to start out but fully enthusiastic about trying. So there he is, between his partner's thighs, absolutely paralyzed. He just doesn't want to do it wrong! His partner's voice would cut through his anxiety: "Just lick it, Con." The sentence alone is enough to make Connor dizzy. He loves when his partner guides him in the right direction. Not telling him what to do, but giving him a starting point. Hesitantly, he licks a slow stripe up their cock/cunt (depending on their anatomy!) and he moans louder than he intends to. The flavor is better than anything he could have imagined! He goes in for another taste in earnest and gives a gentle suck, and he can tell his partner is enjoying it based on the sounds they made. He explores every single part of his partner's arousal, analyzing and classifying which places they like contact the most. His self-assurance increases every time they initiate this kind of contact, and soon enough it's like he's a pro.

☆ When it comes to receiving, it's one of Connor's favorite parts of intercourse with his partner. The feeling of their mouth against his cock, the warm and wet sensations against the sensors there, it's got his head spinning. He threads his fingers through his partner's hair and unintentionally tugs, lost in the swarm of pleasure filling every facet of his system. He'll roll his hips occasionally, chasing the feeling of their perfect mouth on his sensitive cock. He'll be thanking his partner constantly, praising how good they're making him feel as his eyes squeeze shut and choked moans escape his lips. And when his lover deep-throats him, burying his cock to the hilt as their nose touches his pubic area, he cums on the spot. He's embarrassed, not being able to stop himself as his back arches prettily at the feeling of his lover swallowing around him. He'll apologize for letting go so soon, even though he has nothing to be sorry about.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

☆ It depends on the context, but he always likes to start out slow. He's never been one to rush into things, especially during sex. He'll pump in and out of his partner at a gentle pace, pressing loving kisses all over their face and neck. It's only when his partner begs him to go faster that he obliges, picking up his thrusts gradually. Zero to a hundred just isn't enjoyable for him. He basks in the feeling of his building orgasm and loves to watch his partner's body recoil as his thrusts become harsher. And as he's getting close, he starts to pound. Not enough to hurt, but just enough to make obscene slapping sounds ring out in the otherwise quiet room. He'll mumble how he's close underneath his breath and toss his head back as he comes, burying himself inside his lover. His hips will stutter and shake sporadically as he fucks himself through his orgasm, and he'll cry out at the sensation.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

☆ On the lower to medium settings of his sex programming, if Connor's gonna have sex he's gonna have sex. And he's gonna do it right. None of that pump-and-go nonsense. He's going to need foreplay, the act, and aftercare to feel satisfied. Laying his partner down and acclimating them both with a steamy make-out session is imperative, and he'll slowly undress the both of them to get the mood just right. Connor is fully willing to dedicate an entire night to him and his partner going at it, not stopping until the late hours of the morning when his partner is simply too tired to continue. Quickies just aren't his thing. It doesn't seem right to him. But who's complaining? More fun to be had with this sexy, sexy android. This may have to mean that the times Connor and his partner have sex are fewer and further in-between, but that means that the times they do come together are that much more meaningful.

☆ But if the sensitivity of his programming is higher, he is more enthusiastic about the idea of having smaller bursts of sexual activity multiple times a day. See the "Motivation" and "Yearning" sections for more details!

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

☆ Aside from his hard turn-offs, Connor is willing to try anything once. How else is he going to know if he likes it or not? He is naturally curious once he gets more comfortable with the idea of deviating (hehe) from sexual norms. While he likes things to be vanilla most of the time, he knows that part of what makes things fun and exciting in the bedroom is trying new things with his partner. Programmed to be inquisitive, Connor may come to his lover with something he's seen while doing his "research" and ask how they feel about it. The question is never inherently sexual in nature, but the outcome may become suggestive based on how his partner feels about it. As mentioned previously, the sex activities he may present to his partner will fall within his own limits of comfort. He also will let them know right away if he isn't enjoying something the way he thought he would. It's important that he likes what's happening, too.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last...)

☆ Being an android with the inability to physically tire, he will go as many rounds as his beloved wants to. His cock will not soften until he tells it to, even after he's come multiple times. The possibilities are endless. His partner wants to edge him with their hands until he's begging for them to let him cum? He's all for it. They want to give him a blowjob with his hands tied behind his back? Please, another! Regardless of how long their rounds last, the night always ends up the same: Connor fucking into them as they hold each other close. He loves the intimacy of it, of burying his head in the crook of his partner's neck as they both cry out in blissful ecstasy.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

☆ Connor is confident that his partner doesn't need anything except his hands and his mouth, but he doesn't have a complete aversion to sex toys, especially if it heightens his partner's experience! Upon request, Connor will use a vibrator to press against his partner's arousal and it will dawn on him why they suggested its use. The way they sounded, the way they looked... their reactions were definitely being filed in Connor's memory for later retrieval. And don't think he isn't going to have his turn with it, either. During a blindfolding session, Connor is blissfully unaware of his partner holding the toy in their hand, only realizing what is happening when he hears a soft click and the vibrator humming to life. He is completely at their mercy as his partner runs the vibrator up and down his shaft, pressing on the tip occasionally. This makes Connor's cock drool with precum and jolt underneath his lover's touch and he lets out a high-pitched gasp. Looks like the two of them were in for a long night with their new "friend."

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

☆ Like mentioned in the "Favorite Position" section, Connor loves to tease. Love is putting it lightly, actually. Being able to do what he wants to his partner, getting a chance to exercise his free will in the most intimate ways possible, makes him feel a sense of power he's never had the chance to feel before. He'll take his time with his partner, doing all he can to draw out those pretty little sounds they make. He'll prod gently at their entrance with his lubricated fingers, delighting in the feeling of his fingertips gently pushing in and out. And after prepping them with a good fingering, he'll pull his cock out and do the same teasing motion with the head. "Please, Connor, please!" They would beg. He would just hum a little chuckle, rubbing and sliding his cock against their hole to get it nice and slippery. "Not yet."

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

☆ Connor makes just the cutest noises. He'll whimper and whine and moan and gasp, anything to let his partner know how good he feels. When a particularly sensitive spot is hit, he'll clutch onto whatever part of his partner he can and cry out. And when he's getting close, his moans will sound more desperate and rise in pitch. He would be at the point where he can't even speak, systems overloaded with so much information it was overwhelming in the best way. Fucking into his partner he would grunt with every other snap of his hips, sweet praises about how good they feel about him spilling from his lips. He loves being unabashedly vocal, getting to let out all of the pent-up stress he had been feeling that day doing what he loves with his partner.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

☆ Connor really likes the idea of phone sex. Not a video call or anything, just being able to hear his partner's voice while they're away and he's longing for their touch. He'd text them earlier that day: "Can you call me tonight, when you're alone? I miss you." And later that night, after Connor has the thumbs up from them, he waits for his internal phone to ring. He's already hard and aching, secretly hoping that they'll sense his desperation and talk him through it. When they finally call him, he starts palming himself through his underwear. "Hey," he greets. "I'm so glad you picked up. I... I need help." He is immensely grateful when his partner guides him on how to touch himself, telling him when to rub his tip a little and when to give his balls a gentle squeeze. It's so hot to him, not being able to them but still submitting to the sound of their voice alone.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

☆ The customization options for Connor's package extends to its size and length, too. And again, he wants this to be up to his partner. How big he is will be determined on what they find pleasurable. He would only be uncomfortable with the size if he accidentally hurts his partner during sex, he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if that happened. But, for the sake of the imagination, I would say ~5-6 inches. Not too much to be painful during full-penetration, but just enough to feel full. He can always adjust its size too if his partner changes their mind eventually. The appearance of his cock matters little to him, instead what matters is how he uses it and how much his lover enjoys it.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

☆ It can be high or low depending on the intensity adjustment. And he would want it to match his lover's libido! That way they're both satisfied. If lower, he would only reserve sex for special occasions, maybe once every couple of weeks. Around the medium setting, it would be on his mind more often but not enough to be overbearing. Maybe once or twice a week. But if it's at it's highest setting... oh boy. He wouldn't be able to think about all of the ways he could gently ravage his partner whether they're in the room or not. And when they are in the room, he wouldn't be able to contain himself. Innocent cuddling would quickly turn into Connor rutting himself against their leg/hip, gasping quietly about how badly he needs their touch. Showering after a long day would turn into something more... impure as he attempts to help his partner wash their legs and hips. He'd kneel in front of them and nose at their skin, looking up at them with desperate eyes as he licks his lips. At this setting they'll have sex every day if not multiple times a day. Again, it's all up to his partner! He'll always disable it whenever he's on the clock, though. He'll never compromise his position at the DPD.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

☆ Aftercare is so important to Connor, so he won't put himself into sleep mode until after his partner has been cuddled, bathed, and put to bed once they're finished. It feels wrong to him to shut down for the night without first making sure his partner is okay. He simply won't do it! Only after he hears the peaceful, soft sounds of sleep coming from his partner will he cautiously remove himself from the bed and get himself ready for sleep. He may place himself in his charging station if he notices his battery level is low (which would be no surprise considering how hard they went at it) and stay there for a few hours. While he's charging he would analyze the events of the night, what his partner loved and what they were indifferent to to ensure that the next time they have sex it is even more enjoyable for them both. And when he's finished charging, he'll crawl back into bed and wrap his arms around his lover, pressing a soft kiss to the top of their head as he enters his resting state.

[sins-of-the-dragons]

Vampire!Maegor Targaryen x Reader

Maegor is the most powerful vampire king in history. The entire kingdom bow to him. He has multiple wives, both human and vampires. The only thing he is lacking is heirs.

It's not easy for vampires to procreate. Some does but it's very very rare. So when a king dies the next powerful vampire from the same house or different house takes its place. Often it results into war and blood.

Maegor has been king for more than fifty years, his long life and his extraordinary strength have allowed him to remain king unchallenged. Over the years he has married multiple times, the humans rarely survive, and the vampires just adds to his strength and pleasure.

Your house is one of those who has opposed Maegor's rules for decades. A rebellion was also launched but it's impossible to dethrone the cruel vampire. You, the only daughter of your house, a human who has decided to dedicate her life to the faith, to remain unmarried and a virgin.

Unfortunately or fortunately when Maegor got a tip that a rebellion was starring again, he went there to end it before it could start. The men slaughtered, blood everywhere. But even through that he smelled you. You in that temple, your place of devotion and comfort, not too far from the slaughter field. How could Maegor let you go when he has never smelled someone as delicious as you.

You knew he was coming. You saw it. You ran. He toyed with you in the temple, giving false hope that you can escape but his patience ran out and you ended up in his arms. Your white dress now stained with blood from his armour. Your beauty, your eyes, your lips, everything made Maegor's thirst stronger.

He claimed you right there, ripping apart your white dress, thrusting in you while at the same time sinking his fang in your neck. You thought you would die but surprisingly you woke up in the castle. Feeling weak and sore. Surrounded by maids. One of his vampire wives commanding them. You have to admit the wife is the most ethereal being you have seen.

Within weeks you became Maegor's wife. His last human wife died in the hands of another vampire wife, drained completely. It's no secret that you are the favourite. You are terrified and in constant fear but you have no idea that you are the safest human in the kingdom.

The night of the wedding was something you only heard rumors about. The five vampire wives touching you, pleasuring you, stripping you naked. You belonged to them for a good hour before Maegor arrived. The wives spreading your legs for Maegor. Two of the wives teasingly biting your sensitive areas. It's like you are becoming one with them, like you are the one connecting all of them together.

Maegor claimed you all night. The last few days were enough to make you forget about your life before meeting Maegor.

Maegor drinking from your neck as one of his wives eats you out.

Maegor was obsessed with you and so are his vampire wives. You were their human. Their precious human.

Imagine the wives preparing a bath for you, not with water but with blood. It makes you more healthy and the smell is very attractive to them. Imagine yourself in that tub of blood with the wives.

Maegor has given you all the freedom. The daytime is yours to do whatever you want, unless he or the other wives needs your service. At the night time your body, mind, soul and heart belongs to them.

When you think about it, no matter how twisted the affection is, it's still much better than your life with the faith.

When you first had your period you were scared because you are the only human surrounded by vampires. You were shocked when the wives took extra care of you and at night spread your legs for Maegor. Your blood calls to them in a very intimate way. Maegor didn't hesitate to bury his face between your thighs, testing your sweet blood. It's an experience you never imagined of. It's something that bound you to Maegor and his wives in a deeper level. The kiss after testing your blood. The fingers in your. The mouth sucking your tits. Your were in heaven.

Everyone was worried when not long after you got sick. Throwing up and feeling weak. The best healers and medicines were provided. But everyone got more shocked when they heard a heartbeat.

It was a miracle. You, a human carrying a vampire child. You immediately felt attached to the child. Maybe it's a vampire thing but your connection with the baby was strong.

Maegor was not expecting it but he was beyond happy and proud, and so are his other wives.

The vampire baby grows faster than humans but the pregnancy term is still about nine months. Soon your belly got huge. You could feel the baby. You know he will be strong like his father.

Around third trimester the baby started craving blood and that's what you had to drink. Honestly you love your baby so much that you would drink and eat anything for him. The wives personally pick the humans and drain their blood for you to drink.

When the time came to give birth the wives prepared a grand room with an open balcony overlooking the sea and the moon. You lying naked surrounded by the five gorgeous vampires, all pleasuring you. Maegor right there waiting for the miraculous birth of his son, his heir.

It was a long and painful birth. Your son came clawing his way out. The pain was horrific but your son was worth it. One of the wives cleaned him up and gave him to you to feed and bond. You winched when his lips latched on your tits, feeling his fangs in you. Not only was he drinking your milk, he was also drinking your blood.

Maegor watched and the finally made his way to you. Kissing you, praising you. Telling you how you gave him a future. You handed your son to Maegor. He named him....Maegor ii. The first vampire to be born in centuries.

The wives took your son away leaving you with Maegor and one other wife. Both pleasuring you and biting you, injecting just enough venom to heal you.

You know you will give birth to more vampires and surprisingly you feel good about it.

[kukuandkookie]

People keep claiming Chinese BL manhua really only have stories featuring toxic male leads, so I offered to give recommendations with green flags... Someone finally said yes, so here's what I typed up in response!:

I Ship My Rival x Me:

One of my personal favourites!

Based on the hilarious novel, commonly known as I Ship My Adversary x Me and also has an audio drama adaptation on MaoEr FM. Basically a story about two actors who are seen as complete rivals by everyone except the actors themselves, which annoys the main character (Wei Yanzi) enough that when he discovers there are actual fans who ship them instead of pit them against one another, he’s so excited he sort of starts shipping them too (in like, an abstract, theoretical manner lmao). This of course causes shenanigans as he actually gets to know the person who people ship him with/pit him against, Gu Yiliang.

Gu Yiliang is a true sweetheart and the greenest of green flags. He’s a complete puppy and I love him. And this means, naturally, the only misunderstandings in this story are of the hilarious kind (you’ll know what I mean if you read it lol). 😂

This one actually used to be available officially in English on the Bilibili manhua’s international app before it got shut down, but it recently got picked up by Seven Seas, the company behind a lot of official English translations of danmei (Chinese BL)!

Touch Your World:

A literally colour-blind boy (as in, he cannot see colour at all and only sees things in black and white) discovers someone who he can see colour on. This person is a designer who has suffered past betrayal and trauma that has caused him to shut himself up and grow much more on edge, but this chance meeting draws both parties out of their shells.

Pixiu’s Eatery, No Way Out:

Not a green flag top in the traditional sense, but here we meet the mythical Pixiu: an ancient Chinese mythical creature who now runs a restaurant. While he’s a penny-pincher with a temper and he doesn’t get along with his love interest at first (a ghost named Wen Xi who he finds suspicious due to Wen Xi’s ties to a past rival of his named Taotie), Pixiu and Wen Xi eventually grow, quite naturally—and hilariously!—into a found family.

The Wife Is First:

Based on a novel of pretty much the same name (and is written by the same author as the popular manhua and donghua, No Doubt in Us (a heterosexual body-swap romance, which also has a subtle gay side ship)). Here we meet Jing Shao just as he’s about to lose everything: once a royal and a powerful general, he has been betrayed by all those around him…except the husband he has never treated well.

As such, when we first meet him, we actually witness his—and his husband’s—deaths. But then he awakens and finds himself back in time to the night right after he was forced to wed this husband of his, and Jing Shao vows to treat him well from now on because he stuck with him through thick and thin despite everything.

Don’t Say You Love Me:

A high school romance with a supernatural twist: Lin Yutong was confessed to by his best friend, Qin Weiyun, at their graduation party. When he drunkenly freaked out and ran away, Qin Weiyun was hit by a car during the chase…

Devastated by his loss, Lin Yutong quickly wakes up to find himself back at the start of his high school journey, right before he meets Qin Weiyun… And this time, he wants to keep Qin Weiyun safe.

But his overly familiar attitude at first gets the wary Qin Weiyun a tad suspicious, because he’s actually quite an aloof person.

The author and artist of this one is also behind another popular manhua titled Your Dream Is Delicious, which is about a demon named Yi Kui who discovers he enjoys eating the nightmares of Lin You. This eventually leads to them—you guessed it—falling in love.

It’s Not That I Want to Wear Women’s Clothing:

Our main character is hired to crossdress to help this CEO get over his gynophobia (fear of touching women) without him knowing. Naturally, this leads to an awkward romantic journey of both identities of our main character getting close to this CEO…who at first glance seems like the typical cold and aloof CEO type, except he’s actually quite a sweetheart.

Salt Friend:

A slice-of-life high school story about the “school bully” named Tong Yang who’s actually a crybaby and the aloof person named Xiao Zhen who discovers him crying. While the two don’t seem like they’d get along at first glance, this quickly becomes a friends-to-lovers story that navigates family drama alongside the romance.

How’d I Get a Heroine’s Script?:

A transmigration story with a twist. Chao Yi is wheelchair-bound but finds himself eventually as a young lord in what is basically a palace drama (court politics, intrigue, family drama, all that good stuff). His System, Qin Que, tasks him with wooing the difficult 7th prince, Gu Yunheng, who smiles on the surface but is quite cold in actuality.

Despite the two getting off on the wrong foot—mostly because Gu Yunheng is really hard to get close to—they soon end up as unlikely allies…especially since there’s a lot of secrets, such as regarding the death of the body Chao Yi’s occupying, the scheming princes, and even Gu Yunheng himself.

See You My King:

Zhang Li, a student interested in what is basically ancient Egypt, goes on an expedition to the ruined civilization and nearly loses his life. Except at the same time, he discovers an ancient tomb with a statue that actually comes to life and saves him…

And this statue even follows him home. This statue is sweet and loving despite its inability to speak, and Zhang Li grows attached to it (or him)… But then the statue falls apart and Zhang Li is devastated.

In wishing for a miracle to bring them back together, the statue’s stone heart sends Zhang Li back in time…to when this ancient civilization is still present. And that’s how he discovers his stone statue is the “tyrant king” of this region, and as cruel as he seems at first glance, both this king and Zhang Li eventually grow close and unfold the different sides to one another that makes them inseparable in the face of all kinds of threats.

Trapping the Foxy Doctor:

A doctor and a psychiatrist meet…except it doesn’t seem like a perfect love story at first glance. Not because the doctor is traditionally foxy (seductive and/or cunning), but because he’s so silly and on-the-nose that he initially kind of rubs the psychiatrist the wrong way. Except, of course, with the kind of sunny sincerity displayed by our doctor Zhi Banyi, you can’t resist him for long…

And the psychiatrist, Lin Li, is himself quite a polite soul despite his complex upbringing. As such, the two end up together through a series of cases where they have to collaborate and help clients, with a lot of shenanigans sprinkled in between (including the fact Lin Li has a side-job live-streaming as a woman—and “she” just so happens to be Zhi Banyi’s favourite streamer lol).

Pirouette Into My Heart aka Salad Days:

You know the “he was a skater boy and she did ballet” kind of set-up? Well here we have a boxer and a ballet dancer…and hey, “can I make it any more obvious”?

This one is basically a feel-good story of the century. It’s childhood friends to lovers, and it’s soft and cuddly and encouraging, as we follow the main character, Jiang Shen, in achieving his ballet dreams. And on every step of the way, he’s accompanied by the boxer Bai Jinyi, who’s also chasing his own dreams.

The draw of this one is that while there’s obviously conflict to drive the plot along, it’s ultimately a comforting story, so you get all warm and squishy inside reading it. Bai Jinyi and Jiang Shen are very supportive of one another, as is everyone around them.

There’s even extras at the very end that swap the classes of the two main characters, which makes for a similarly compelling AU. 🤭

Beryl and Sapphire:

Not always BL but often is. What do I mean by that? Well it’s a story that can switch to any universe even as the characters stay the same, and some worlds are just one-off gags while some are whole story arcs. The original manhua features stick figures, so if you really want to experience this one, I’d recommend the donghua. The first season also cleverly shows the main characters as actors in the OP, which explains all the world-switching pretty easily haha.

Don’t Pick Up Boyfriends from the Trash Bin:

Unfortunately I’m not sure the manhua for this one is still ongoing, but the original novel (all about transmigration and hopping multiple worlds) 100% features a green flag top.

The Guy Inside Me:

I know the title sounds sexual lol but it’s actually a joke about how it’s a body-swap story. 😆

The original Chinese title is “This Question Is Too Difficult”) and of course, the author also wrote Fake Slackers, which has two very smart students act like terrible ones due to not wanting trouble.

Falling to Where I Belong:

The thing about this one is that the top is 100% a total green flag... It's the main character that's more of a red flag, in the sense he at first only asks the top out to humiliate him due to a misunderstanding.

But it's still a heartfelt story filled with regret and growth, and I did really like the portrayal of Cheng Feichi. Personally I think the manhua humanizes him a bit more than the novel since we didn't really get his POV in the novel that often, but I did hope for even more emotion in the ending... Still, it was a satisfying read, and while I would like to comfort the main character, Zhen Yeming, over his regrets, I really want to just give all the good things to Cheng Feichi, who definitely deserves it after everything he went through.

More Than Brothers:

For the "non-freaks" out there, they're not actual brothers, don’t worry; not adopted brothers either. Just a guy who saw his younger friend as his bro…until this friend disappeared from his life and apparently got into a bad crowd… Except in reality he is being harassed and is struggling to leave his abusive family.

The Protagonist Just Wants to Fall in Love:

Kind of a classic in the transmigration genre, except now we get multiple worlds in multiple arcs. Our protagonists are Systems on their final mission, aiming to become human by the end of it, and their task is to guide their protagonists away from the path of "darkening" (essentially corruption).

And each and every one of these systems do so by getting their protagonist to fall in love with them lol.

Unsurprisingly, my favourite arc so far—in the manhua at least!—is the historical one between the advisor and the emperor, but the third—and currently ongoing as the time of me writing this—world between two university students who started getting close during military training and by playing games is also quite cute.

And okay, man I could really keep going, especially with the manhua that are based on novels, but this post is already really long asjakfl. It was, in fact, so fucking long YouTube wouldn't even let me post it at first until I cut it down AMFKGSJDFGS.

But I still want to at least give a shout out to some of the manhua with pretty healthy, green flag tops/gongs!:

Like Han Yuan, despite the characters not getting along at first and Yu Han being rather aloof to the spoiled Luo Linyuan, is still quite sweet at its core. Lovely Allergen is as well, even with their "brotherly" relationship being the forefront of the conflict between Song Yu and Yue Zishi.

Another kind I wanted to bring up is the ones where their worlds or stories are dark, but the characters aren't necessarily. Like The Film Emperor, He Insisted on Being My Patron has a very green flag gong (he's such a puppy!), but he and the main character are up against the reddest of red flags of a villain LMDFKGSJFD.

It's also not a manhua I think people who want green flag leads would necessarily enjoy, given that beyond being "darker," it also goes into the territory of fan service-y and "problematic" nsfw content, but again, the male lead is really quite sweet to the main character despite the shitty situation they're in.

And I thought of Bu Chonghua from Tunhai aka Swallowing the Seas (another one based on a novel), since the main character there, Wu Yu, comes to see Bu Chonghua as so good and just that he pushes him away because he feels like he can't dirty such a man with his own darkness, both in his past and personality. It's a trope I really enjoy.

I'll briefly mention some ⚠️ spoilers ⚠️but the reason I wanted to highlight it is because: the latest chapter of the manhua has Bu Chonghua overhear Wu Yu saying he likes Bu Chonghua, and this is after Wu Yu disappeared and Bu Chonghua is worried he skipped town for good. He follows Wu Yu, all while wondering if the like Wu Yu holds for him is the same as his liking of Wu Yu, and when Wu Yu is about to be gravely injured in an underground fighting ring, Bu Chonghua steps in to save him... The chapter ends with Wu Yu holding him back pleading with him to stop because it's not worth dirtying his hands with such a man as his opponent, and that's such a delicious flavour of angst because like...Wu Yu thinks it's fine for he himself to fight against such a person, but he doesn't want Bu Chonghua to. ;-;

Oops. I didn't mean for this to become a deeper ramble of Tunhai KMSGFKGHSJ. It's just interesting to me since Tunhai and its prequel, Poyun aka Breaking Through the Clouds, may not have what the people who prefer green flag tops want in terms of content, but its tops are technically not that much of a red flag either.

Which also get us to the kind of stories where plot can also sort of outweigh whether a top/gong is a green flag or not. Like No Arguing With Mr. Mo has two characters who struggle greatly in their relationship, with the question of "are they in love?" being an overarching issue for them, meaning it's not exactly healthy, and prevents them from being fully either green or red flags.

I also didn't bring up a lot of historical/xianxia manhua, which I'm sure some people may disagree with... Like the leads in Tianbao Fuyao Lu are arguably quite good, and while I haven't read Dinghai Fusheng Lu yet, I assume it's in a similar boat as something set in the same world.

And then there's the ones that develop into green flags... Like Mo Ran starts off awful, yes, but he does become much better later on!! But I don't think that's what those people after green flags want to hear lol. Plus I'd argue Erha is best experienced in novel (or audio drama) form over the manhua anyway—the manhua feels more like something made for established fans in my opinion.

Regardless, I hope this shows that with so many listed above, many manhua actually feature male leads who really do care for their love interests in a healthy, respectful way, whether they're 100% green flags or they develop into green flags or they're not even complete green flags. ^^

Edit: Oh I forgot to link my full list of danmei/baihe manhua recs HMSKFJSKS. I currently don’t have any summaries, tags, or content warnings in this list though, but there’s quite the range of stories!:

[romance-rambles]

au - magic/knight!alkaid | can i ask: do you love me?

By a series of accidents involving love potions and cookies, you end up with a boyfriend.

k, fluff + one (1) background relationship, mentions of angst, accidental usage of love potions, reader is mc, series: none

WHEN IT COMES TO THE morality of love potions, there is usually no universally-agreed upon answer, in large part due to the sheer variance in what, exactly, constitutes such a thing.

The law, however, is as full of loopholes as it can be—as long as it doesn't seem to talk, walk, or act like a drug capable of inducing others to fall in love with you, it isn't. And so, if such a thing were to ever find its way into someone's food, it technically wouldn't be a crime.

Then where, you wonder, does the present situation fall under?

With horror twisting your lips into a grimace, you gaze silently at the empty tray of cookies, sat upon the table unsuspectingly. No crumbs remain on its surface, though that speaks more to the character of the man who accidentally devoured them than any skill on your part. Alkaid has always been like this, even when your delicious cookies were nothing more than chunks of coal.

Despite the conclusions you manage to draw so easily, a question—one qualified enough to be called idiotic—slips out of you.

"Did you…" You swallow the lump in your throat. "Did you eat all of these cookies?"

Alkaid chuckles, smiling warmly. "Of course. They were as delicious as always."

On the topic of love potions, sweet in taste as they are, they tend to be amber in color. Sugar turned into caramel, or honey gleaming in the sunlight, as your friend once described it. A treat perfectly suited to her tastes.

Food dye is what brings out the pink hue oft associated with love, and the association is such that there are those who believe that love potions in any other color are simply…

Defective.

It was this same association that led Ehlonna—who came to you in tears, her once-in-a-lifetime request as much a paradox of selfishness and selflessness as she herself was—to request a more natural approach. As the soon-to-be Princess of Leighton, even so much as a hint that a love potion existed in her possession could not only be damaging to her reputation, but would incite needless worry in her brother and father.

Her brother who has just inhaled a plate full of cookies made accidentally with the love potion you crafted for her.

You don't scream. For one, you can't scream, but it is a near thing. The devil whispers in your ear, isn't this a good thing? And it takes a frightening amount of time for your conscience to talk you down.

This is why you don't play around with love potions.

"That's good." An awkward smile. An even more awkward silence. "And you feel okay? They didn't taste…funny?"

The love of your life laughs again. You think it's deserved, a little. A lot. It takes the embarrassing sting off the joke that is your current existence. How does one accidentally put a love potion in a batch of cookies? They run out of sugar and attempt to make due with honey.

How does one mistake a love potion for honey? They put it in an inconspicuous jar and wake up to bake at three in the morning. All because of a nightmare, one as equally like to come true as the opposite, where the groom looked suspiciously like the man in front of you and a blob of colors substituted as the bride.

"Have more faith in your baking," he says gently, holding his teacup to his lips.

On average, knights are not the best at holding their own against magic of any sort. But Alkaid bucks the trend by being startlingly difficult to hex, which, by all accounts, should bode well for him.

Except for the fact that he did, in fact, succumb to the last potion you tested on him. Trust, after all, is a powerful thing. It knocked him out for a week, and when he woke up, it was to the sight of your inconsolable form at his bedside. Even his own family wasn't half as concerned, though his father did advise against using him as a test subject in the future.

"I do," you say numbly, resting your arm atop the chair. Soon enough, it is your entire body that the wooden dining chair—one older than even you—must support. "I really do…"

His amused smile fades, making way for an expression full of concern. Setting the teacup down, he asks, "Has something happened?"

You exhale.

Ordinarily, you would confess everything to him. But everything entails secrets that are not yours to give away. Like the part about Ehlonna nearly taking a lover, for one. How the prospect of marrying for duty terrifies her enough that she would sooner numb herself to the world. How the love of her life vanished at the start of the month, the only proof of his existence being the whispers of the townsfolk and the songs the children sing.

So, you play around with the truth instead, to the best of your ability.

"I think…" You slip onto the seat in front of you with a sigh and a careful bite of your lip. "I think I poured a truth serum into those cookies. It's not where I keep it anymore."

But no one said it'd be a good lie.

His eyebrows nearly disappear under his bangs. You've always appreciated the siblings' willingness to go along with whatever excuses you offer them. Call it gullibility, as some people do, but you think it veers on blind faith.

Whatever questions he has sit on the tip of his tongue—then he swallows them back down and places a hand over his forehead. Gently moving the tray to the side, you lean in close, upper body crossing half the table as you wait your turn.

Alkaid has always made note of your hands. How they often run cold, instead of warm. The telltale increase in body temperature that results from love potions, then, could be obfuscated by that fact.

Frustration knits your eyebrows together. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you ask:

"Do you feel like telling me anything?"

"Not particularly," he answers, looking concerned. For you, you suspect. Then, he takes your hands and squeezes them gently. "It's been a long time since that day. It isn't out of the realm of possibility that I've gained some resistance since then."

Your expression tells him all you'd like him to know. It wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility—if he was anyone else. You'd love to give him some other potion to prove your point, but you can't risk him getting knocked out before the delegation for the Kingdom of Leighton comes knocking on Eden's door for their new princess.

Which is…

Two days from now.

You feel yourself breaking into cold sweat again. The potion takes a month to make.

And Ehlonna is nice. Ehlonna is understanding. Ehlonna is your best friend, and with love troubles of her own under her belt, she will surely understand your circumstances. There's nothing to forgive, her saintly voice echoes in your mind.

On her part, sure.

On your part? Absolutely not.

The smile on your lips grows forced. At the same time, Alkaid reaches out and brushes your bangs out of your face—and you'd love to draw conclusions, but he's always been like this.

"Alright, why don't you ask me a question?" he proposes, half-exasperatedly. "If you've wanted to ask anything at all, now's your chance."

Do you love me?

You swallow the lump in your throat with great difficulty. "What's your favorite color?"

"Green." A lie. The answer is purple.

"What's your favorite season?"

"Summer." A lie. The answer is undetermined—his usual line is, Spring is the season flowers bloom, but Winter is the season we met.

"What's your favorite food?"

"Whatever you and Ehlonna make." A truth. He'd have to be the liar of a lifetime if it wasn't.

This back-and-forth continues for a while longer, his initial reason for visiting nearly forgotten by both of them. It's not as though they'd made any progress on coming up with a fun night for Ehlonna anyways. You'd preemptively rejected places that were sure to remind her of Yin, which left the two of you with almost no options in the nearby town.

Eventually, you run out of questions, but the soft smile on Alkaid's lips does not fade. The devil whispers in your ear, and, for some reason, he sounds a bit like Yin, Ask: do you love me?

You opt for a slightly different question. "Is there a girl you like?"

His eyebrows furrow at the question, and his lips purse. He looks a bit uncomfortable, really. But it's only for a brief moment before he smiles again.

"Yes." A statement, undetermined.

Taking a deep breath, you ask, "Is that a truth or a lie?"

"Which one would you rather it be?" he counters.

Silence engulfs the home you inherited from your mother. It's deep in the forest near Eden's capital, with enchantments cast specifically to keep it hidden from unwanted guests. If someone wants to commission you for a magical product, they must ask during your business hours, at the quaint little art store you own.

The lavender walls of the dining room seem quite intriguing, all of a sudden—even to an eye like yours, which has seen them since birth. There's a few scratches on the table from when you were a child, and the chair slats feel more uncomfortable that usual when you lean back against them.

It would be easy enough to pick the first option, you think. But if the end result is anything like your dream…

Eden—more specifically, you—can only handle one broken-hearted mage right now.

"Who is it?" you eventually spit out, to the tune of your heartbeat thrumming in your ears. Regret instantly floods your veins, but it's too late to back out. Your mother did not raise a coward, nor did she raise someone unaffected by sunk-cost.

"She's…" He pauses, seemingly at a loss for words. "Wonderful. Kind. The most beautiful woman in the world—"

You wonder if you can tune him out.

You wonder if you should.

Every little compliment functions like a dagger, repeatedly stabbing you in the heart. Even so, you count each one and wonder, Could that be me? Who else does Alkaid know who sometimes eats like a slob? You're not proud of it, but hunger often has a way of making you forgo niceties.

And it can't be his cat, either. Sparkles, despite his name, is not a girl.

"Is she sitting in front of you?" you blurt out finally, when it seems like he's about to stop. Then, to make up for your mistake, you bury your head in your hands and pray this ritual grants you invisibility.

"How'd you know?"

When you look up, Alkaid is smiling his usual gentle smile.

THERE IS A LITTLE FOOTNOTE in the banned potion's textbook that provided the recipe for this love potion. You learn about it that night, after pulling the book out of your shelf to occupy your sleepless night in a productive manner.

Half of it is written in a handwriting you've only ever seen in letters your father wrote before his untimely death—the one you modeled the curves of your alphabet after. The other half is written in your mother's handwriting, still in cursive, but with a definitive air of practicality to it, in that it would nearly be illegible to anyone else but you.

It says:

A love potion will not go into effect if the target of the ingester's affection and the first person they see are one and the same. In rare cases, with sufficient willpower, if the two people are separate, the ingester will be able to overcome its effects.

Biting your lips has no effect on your ever-growing smile. Neither does the prospect of having to tell Ehlonna about your mistake dampen your excitement about today's events.

Perhaps that makes you a bad friend. Perhaps wondering if the love potion would've failed anyway, owing to Ehlonna and her brother having an incredible willpower, makes you a bad friend too. In any case, in the following days, it ceases to matter, because your hunch about Ehlonna's fate happens to be correct.

Just not in the form you expected.

When you finally show her and her new husband the textbook—smuggling it into the manor carefully and quietly, though the Duke tends to turn a blind eye to your shenanigans—on the day after their wedding, the three of you can only laugh, as you did in the old days.

— happy (very) belated birthday to @chiefcroissantdeanbanana

[fayes-fics]

Innuendo Bingo

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Summary: Crack fic. Modern AU. Someone knows a LOT of stupid synonyms for orgasms...

Warnings: Teen and up. Sexual humour, a lot of stupidity. Non-explicit references to sex acts. Basically, I'm sorry.

Word Count: 0.8k

Authors note: Request fill for @sorryallonsy, who asked for Benedict crack fic with him coming up with stupid names for orgasms (ask HERE). I'm sorry this took SO LONG, especially as it is so short. However, I was in the mood to polish off (heheheh) something silly today, and this was just the ticket. Unbetaed cos it's ridiculous. Thanks, and err, enjoy, I guess? <3

Bridgerton family brunch happens once a month and is always memorable. The family usually takes over some swish eatery in central London for a few hours with their unique brand of noisy, chaotic camaraderie. Being Benedict's girlfriend, you are now a part of this melee. It’s one such Sunday when you are finishing your quite delicious but oversized meal that Benedict leans in.

“I can't wait to have you naked again,” he rumbles right in your ear.

You almost spit your last mouthful all over the table. After a few beats, you recover enough to reply.

“Your mother is right there!” you chastise sotto voce, nodding imperceptibly across the table, pulling a pointed expression, even as your mind is filled with images of him waking you up just this morning with his tongue between your thighs.

“Please,” he withers good-naturedly. “I have seven siblings. Do you really think this libido isn't genetic?” he jests, a hand on your knee now. 

“Stop it!” you giggle, not wanting to think of his mother that way.

 “Also, she is not paying us any mind,” he points out, crowding closer. 

Indeed, she is engrossed in a chat with Kate and has one of Daphne’s kids ensconced in her lap, diverting all her attention.

“Besides, are you telling me you don't want to have another orgasm today?” he goads, lips warm on your neck as those fingers spider higher up your thigh, knowing precisely what your weak spots are and exploiting them.

“Well, now… I didn’t say that…” you counter, eyes fluttering closed briefly at his onslaught. “But I might need a few hours after all this food,” you mime a bloated stomach.

It's his turn to chuckle, a warm sound that skitters over your skin. “That's fair,” he assesses. “Can't be releasing the Kraken if you have a food baby…”

You can't help but emit a bark of laughter at that. Everyone at the table looking briefly askance at you before resuming their discussions.

“The what?” you wheeze.

“You heard me,” he quips warmly. “Don't like that? I've got a million more,” he vows, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Don't…” you warn softly, but that just seems to goad him on.

“Making waffles? Popping the weasel…?”

“Waffles?” you frown, “I thought it was whoopee?”

“That too,” he smiles, eyes crinkling in that adorable way as he continues. “Petting the cat? Nulling the void? You can cuff my carrot, and I’ll dial your rotary phone?” each phrase is delivered full of mirth, close to your ear, and you can't help the stupid grin on your face.

“Stop it,” you protest weakly, nudging him gently with your elbow but having to muffle your laughter into his shoulder.

“I’ll stop when you stop finding them funny…” he counters genially. “Marching the penguin? Downstair DJing? Turning on the sprinklers? Debugging the hard drive?”

Each one has you hopelessly sniggering to the point you can't breathe, and little tears form at the corner of your eyes.

“What in God's name are you doing to your girlfriend, Benedict?” Anthony’s voice suddenly rings out from the head of the table. “It looks like she is about to die… hands where I can see them, please!”

Everyone at the table twists to look at you and laughs as both of you instantly raise your hands as if being held hostage; you mortified by the idea everyone thinks you might be up to things in front of them all, even though you know Anthony is joshing. 

But then Benedict murmurs a quiet parting shot out the corner of his mouth. 

“Chastising the family… jewels...”

And yeah, your loud snort is definitely undignified.

—

You are back at his place relaxing on the sofa a few hours later - When Harry Met Sally is playing on the TV - when he wraps an arm around your shoulder.

“Fancy doing a Meg Ryan?” he whispers, his tone laced with levity.

“Bit late for that. We left the restaurant a few hours ago,” you sigh in mock disappointment, a playful smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“I don't mind a private performance,” he breezes, trailing a hand over your neckline and nuzzling your cheek. “I rather like the idea of watching you paddle your pink canoe….”

Yeah, no, you definitely lose it at that one. 

Collapsing into him, your laughter does not even subsidise when he unzips your dress with his practised skill.

“Please… one ticket to the solo show just for me?” he implores, kissing along your jaw. “Visit that safety deposit box? Orbit Venus? A little double-clicking?”

“You are going to need to stop…” you object faintly, an odd mix of lightness from giggling so much and arousal coursing through you as his fingers circle over your underwear.

“Never…..” he teases in that gravelly tone that always persuades you.

“Fine, but only if I can watch you polish your bannister…” you throw back, pushing off your underwear with a comic flourish.

His laugh is deep and all-consuming, racking his whole frame as he suddenly scoops you up and strides towards his bedroom.

“Deal!”

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa @urfavnoirette