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diejager · 5 months

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hiiiii! can i request a miguel x reader? miguel is a big shady business man (kinda like king pen) who owns a strip club and reader is one of the strippers who everyone knows not to mess with since she’s miguel’s girl. a guy starts sexually harassing reader and miguel kicks his ass and puts him in his place. if you’re cormfortable, i would like smut ❤️

Property Cw: smut, possessive behaviour, DUB-CON, worshipping, sex workers, strip club, pimp, cunnilingus, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, marking, stripper/sex worker!reader, tell me if I missed any.

Despite the place being a strip club - one on the higher end of the city - there was one rule that it followed to a T without exception: do not touch the workers without consent, yet this pig decided to forgo this fundamental rule put in place in ever strip club and touched you when you’ve told him many times to back off. His sweaty and grabby hands moving across your skin left you shuddering, his hands leaving you feeling disgusted by his touch.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, moving between the bodies to get away from the man.

“C’mon babe!” He moved to try to grab you, insistent that he only wanted to share a drink and talk, “Please! One lap dance!”

Men like him just couldn’t take no, it frustrated you. That might’ve been what he said : one lap dance, but you knew his type, he would demand for more after you were done and become forceful if you didn’t comply. You tried to distance yourself from him, your heels thumping quietly on the velvet flooring, hurried and annoyed while the man followed you, his fingers grazing the naked skin of your shoulder. You wore a blue teddy, the darkest shade of navy strapped to your skin, the bust acting as a corset to push out your breasts and the thin fabric cupping the swell of your ass. It was almost sheer, the few ribbons and decorative texture hiding anything too intimate from the public and garter straps holding your sheer stockings up your thighs. Your attire seemed to be the source of his obsession and of his liking, even following you to the boss’s VIP corner.

“No!” You swung your arm back, hurrying to the bodyguards standing between the VIP and public area of the club, “I told you-”

In your frantic hiss, you walked into a wall, groaning softly. The wall was more so a wall of sculpted muscle than a plaster and drywall, a firm hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his protective embrace. A wide and firm palm gripped your stomach, kneading the soft flesh under the lingerie.

“When she says no, it means no, cabrón,” Miguel growled, his broad stature overshadowing the man that followed you. When you turned your head, Miguel had his wrist in hand, the man winced and whimpered at the tight hold, strength threatening to break his wrist, “You got that?”

He nodded, running away with his tail tucked between his legs, out of the club and as far as he could from the beast that held you gently. Turning you around, he led you up the stairs connected to his upstairs suite, a personal balcony that overlooked the proudest part of his kingdom.

“He’s done.”

He wouldn’t be coming back, once Miguel gave the order, the person wouldn't ever be allowed back into any of his establishments. He had rules that he wanted to be respected, towards his employees and especially you, his sweet girl that he picked up from the previous pimp in the area he now controlled with an iron fist towards the cruel and abusive.

His mezzanine was spacious, a soft, faux leather couch, a black able and a private bar area in a corner for him to indulge in his drunken pleasures with or without guests. You’ve always liked this place, a distance from the music and crowd on the ground floor, it was a solace in the busy club. He sat you on the table, the cool surface making you flinch while he faced you, the leather dipping with his weight. He tenderly cradled your cheeks, thumb running along the curve of your painted lips, his eyes roving down your coverage, smooth skin uncovered to his hungry eyes and calling for him.

“Oh, mi dulce Musa,” he cooed, his lips kissing a line down your neck, the dip of your collar, the smell of your breasts and the warmth of your cunt, wetness pooling over the fabric of the teddy he gifted you. “I’m happy you came to me first.”

He hooked a thigh over his shoulder, spreading you on your back as he slipped a finger under your lace, pulling it aside to look at your glistening folds. Sliding two fingers between your labia and collecting your slick on his calloused pads, spreading them open to admire your cunt, clenching around air —hungry for his thick digits. He bowed his head, pressing a kiss on your throbbing clit, pulsing and needy, circling the entrance of your drooling hole, feeling it clench. Wrapping his lips around your nub, he sucked on it as he plunged in, two fingers stretching your tight warmth, guiding his hand in and out.

You cried out, bucking your hips against his rugged face, grinding upwards with a slow mewl. You felt stretched wide, a finger of his counted two of yours, long and sturdy, pumping into you with a goal in mind, tapping your gummy, sweet spot and pulling you apart from the seams. You moaned, shuddering under him, body wracked with tremors when he pumped a third finger, untangling you from the seams of your salacious and confident image you built from your time as a sex worker. You were a wanton mess, back arching and legs quaking, painted nails curled around Miguel’s hair, pleasure coiled tightly in your core.

His pace was steady, hand driving in deeply, coaxing more slick out of you, curling against your warmth. You clung to him desperately, head thrown back and teary eyed as you balanced on the precipice of your climax, an agonising thrum of pleasure beating between your thighs. Sensing your end, he rolled your clit with the tip of his tongue, giving you a bit of solace before he sunk his teeth into the meat of your thigh. You wailed, jerking around as your pussy closed around his fingers, your heat squirting over his hand. It was a blinding fire, eyes rolling back into a white cloud, sightless after your earth-shattering orgasm.

He whispered sweet compliments, laving over the bloodied mark with the flat of his tongue, slowly pumping in and out of you until you rode off your release, legs still shaking and hands still curled around his head. He kissed his bite, red eyes drinking in your debauched figure with his mark, a sign of ownership over you, the red indentation of his teeth bleeding you.

“Mía. Mi dulce Musa,” he whispered, gazing at you lovingly, predatory eyes glowing bright red under his lashes and wild curls.

Taglist: @yas-v @elliewilliamsbae @rinieloliver

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thatsdemko · 3 months

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don’t go - c.leclerc

masterlist | pairing: Charles Leclerc x gasly!reader

summary: a bad date leads you to a certain asshole in your brothers living room…

warnings: NOT intended for minors(18+) + oral (m receiving) + angst + slightly unedited (potential grammatical errors)

it didn’t have to be so hard to have one successful date, but somehow in the country of Monaco, it was damn near impossible without having to hear some sort of brag about fancy cars and formula one drivers. which funny enough, all of that is what you wanted an escape from. having a brother in the Motorsport meant your whole life revolved around it, and all you wanted was evening where you didn’t have to talk about cars.

“I’m so sorry,” kika softly mutters, her fingers dragging through your hair as you lay your head in her lap, “he sounds like such an asshole.”

you sit up from her lap, taking in the three who sat and listened to your horrific date night: Pierre, your brother—who looks about ready to beat someone up—, kika, who instantly wrapped her arms around you when your stormed in, and Charles. the Ferrari driver who sat silently listening.

“he wasn’t though. he just didn’t need to bring up max verstappen.” you say, the name feeling foreign against your lips. looking across the room, you lock eyes with Charles who shifts rather uncomfortably in his seat, “maybe dating in Monaco is a bad idea.” he suggests.

Pierre barks out a laugh, “and what? just move solely for the men? that’s ridiculous.”

Charles replies with the shrug of his shoulders, “Monaco is all about cars and racing drivers. I’m sorry, y/n, you should expect that.”

“what you should expect is not everyone to want to be involved in this silly little sport, Charles. Monaco doesn’t have to always be about cars and your sport.” kika huffs out rather annoyed at how the conversation has shifted. you would be too, if you weren’t already annoyed about other things— ie: your date.

“he’s being overly dramatic, y/n,” Pierre hisses, his eyes volleying back and forth between his friend and you, “ignore him.”

Charles rolls his eyes mumbling words under his breath no one can make out. the conversation shifted back to you, your brother and his girlfriend consoling you while Charles sits in the corner bored. he’d come over due to Pierre’s invite for dinner, but what he didn’t expect to see was you.

for months you and Charles snuck around sleeping together until one day Charles started publicly dating. you were heartbroken, truly, but you could never show or say why and who had done it to you. the evidence was right under their noses, they just never took the time to look.

“I’m not being overly dramatic,” Charles says rolling his eyes, “I’m being reasonable. I’m sure there are men in Milan for you.”

“what’s up your ass today? seriously, just because she broke up with you doesn’t mean you have to take it out on y/n.”

a smile threatens to tug against your lips. it takes everything in you to turn away from Charles so he doesn’t see your reaction, but he can tell by the crinkles by your eyes. you’re finding this humorous.

“I didn’t come here to get chewed out.”

“well neither did I.” you turn your head back in his direction, eyes sinking in on him, he finds himself back in the uncomfortable gaze.

he hates how intense and blue your eyes get when you narrow in on someone. those ocean blue eyes you have carry a heavy amount of emotion without even having to bat an eyelash.

“let’s just have some more wine.” kika offers rising up off the couch and breaking the growing tension in the room.

“that sounds fine to me.”

—

the night air of Monaco whips your hair around off your shoulders. standing outside, you needed air from Charles and the tension, but it’s seemed to follow you despite your attempts.

“you know, I didn’t mean to behave the way I did,” he starts, closing the gap between you two, standing beside you, “you should be allowed to date someone who knows nothing about max verstappen or even me.”

“but you’re right,” you say. shifting your gaze from the cars that drive the twist and turns of Monaco, you look up at him and into his chocolate brown eyes, “I should expect that here. Monaco is full of drivers and driver wannabes.”

he snorts replaying the words ‘driver wannabes’ in his head, he remembers the days where he was one of those wannabes. time flew for him, and looking at you is the indication of that for him sometimes. your beauty flourished with age, and only seemed to take his full attention more and more as you grew up, and he wished maybe you weren’t trying to avoid the racing scene because he knows you’d be a great couple.

“don’t move to Milan,” he says moving an inch closer, arms brushing against one another. the action is just enough to erupt butterflies in your stomach, “what would I do without you here?” his face inches closer to yours, and he doesn’t realize he’s doing it but his eyes close and his lips softly land agains yours.

pulling away, you wrap your fingers around the curls in his hair and pull him closer to your body, “tell me, what would you do?” you ask, fingers trailing down the length of his body before undoing the button of his jeans, “would you be doing this?” you yank the zipper, take your fingers against the waistband and sink down to the cement while pulling his jeans to his ankles.

“n-no.” he hesitates, eyes flickering over the light inside the apartment for a brief second, but his thoughts vanish feeling your fingers gently graze his cock.

“fuck, y/n.” he whimpers and it’s pathetic but boosts your ego as your lips wrap around his tip.

his body shivers, knees stiff in place feeling your tongue swivel, lips suck him, and teeth gnaw him. how could he ever have thought someone else could do this to him? how could he ever imagine another woman when you’re on your brothers balcony sucking him off.

your nails dug deep into the skin of his hips, you feel him buckle, hips jutting outward. you can’t hear much of him, ears too red at the tips you only hear the sound of the blood rushing, but you know Charles. you know his weakness is you on your knees in front of him.

coming was quick— as he hadn’t been touched in ages like that— it was almost embarrassing for him, but you don’t mind. dusting yourself off, you take the glass of red wine that was sitting on the ledge of the balcony and watch Charles collect himself back to normal, “maybe I won’t go. you’ll miss me too much.” you press a kiss to his cheek before heading inside to find a movie playing.

“what are we watching?” you ask sinking into the cushion beside your big brother.

Charles rejoins, taking a seat beside kika, far enough distance between you. if that was how you were going to play him, like nothing happened, he could do that too.

tags: @monzabee @lovelytsunoda @burberryfilms @imsorare @leclerc13 @smoothopz @lunnnix (sorry I didn’t tag everyone if you want to be tagged in future posts please let me know!)

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dcxdpdabbles · 6 months

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Phantom's Number 1 Fan Part 3

John Constantine calls a joint Justice League and Justice League Dark meeting.

It's not something he wants to do. He barely works with the LJD, but at least that lot understands his work and knows what to do and where to go.

The JL members always ask questions and forget proper manners when working with the paranormal- John isn't the most well-mannered bloke around, but even he knows to permanently say goodbye to ghosts so that they don't follow him home- and it's like trying to teach an intern while dodging bullets.

He prefers to avoid the whole origination, especially since Bruce's death; everyone has been walking on eggshells, and there is a sense of disorganization drenched in grief that John breaks into hives just thinking about, but this is big.

Bigger than he can handle it on his own or with just the JLD. Even if the whole group gives the bats not-so-stable glances as they filter in.

John notices that one of Batman's brats is missing- the smart one- but he has heard that the kid suffered some kind of psychotic break from his father's death. It's sad, really, mainly because John used to believe that the third Robin was the one with the good head on his shoulders.

What's worse is that the Third Robin up and ran off, having gone off the grid when he refused to accept Batman's death. The boy hadn't said anything besides, "The portraits told me!" after having a miniature breakdown in his home.

It didn't help that around this time, the boy teammates had all dropped like flies except for one. So yes, John knows it wasn't a big surprise that he lost it, but it was still sad to see. Kid is only seventeen.

He hopes they find him soon to give him the help he needs. John would offer a spell to try and find him, but he needs to learn about the kid better, which means his spell can only point in a general direction.

Nightwing looked downright ragged, but losing a father on the battlefield and a younger brother to his grief did a number on anyone.

John hates himself just a little for dragging the grieving family here. He does, but again, this is bigger than all of them. This is a matter of life and death- literally.

"Listen up. We have a bloody level ten on its way to Earth if it's not already here." His words cut through the muttering crowd, shutting everyone up. A level ten makes even the big, lousy Superman sweat. He snaps his fingers, allowing his magic to shift into the image of a King Phantom sitting on his throne- painted in the early 1200s and the picture that can be used to identify him.

The art style would have been almost modern if it wasn't for the unease that the painting could cause due to the glowing green from his majesty's portrait. They say the green was ectoplasm from the king himself- and that alone should warn others to not mess with him.

Everyone Justice League Dark member hissed through their teeth, sitting up straighter and a few even pale. John is once again grateful that they understand just how deep in shit they genuinely are.

"This is the Ghost King. He is not to be confused with a god or king of gods. He's something else entirely because he makes gods nervous. He is on his way here to kill whoever is dumb enough to threaten his pregnant fiancee, and I fear the rest of Earth will be collateral if we don't prepare-"

"That's Danny Phantom," A young voice cuts John off. He is surprised someone would talk over him in a level ten briefing. All eyes turn to Robin- er, the new Robin.

The kid is frowning at the image, his signature scowl already deeper than usual. He's also heard the new Robin was a spoiled boy who was not a team player.

"You know King Phantom?" John asks.

Robin nods. "Placeholder is obsessed with him. Half his room is covered with King Phantom's heroics."

"Do not call him that.," Nightwing hisses a second later. He frowned when Robin ignored him but returned to the room without further comment on the boy's cheek. "Danny Phantom is a low-level search and rescue hero. He pops up around the world but only sometimes interacts with people. Robin- Young Justice Robin- was obsessed with him."

The room gains an awkward weight as no one is willing to bring up the mentally unsound MIA teenager.

It's too bad for them. John has never cared about making anyone comfortable. "You said his room is covered in images of King Phantom?"

From the corner of his eyes, John catches sight of Zatanna's face. She's pale white, with a horrified expression as if though she was standing before the grim itself. Every other member of the Justice League Dark is in a similar state.

"Yes, he has a whole wall of posters and stuff." Nightwing conforms, and shit John knows who Phantom's after now.

The thing is, one just doesn't have pictures of King Phantom. No one knows why, but the Ghost King can not be documented. Not without having some kind of connection to the King.

Throughout history, the only ones who have ever had even one solid picture of the king- John's magic doesn't count cause he can't well hold the thing up forever- usually meant that the King would appear before them at one point.

There is also a myth if one could beat a member of the royal ghost family, then one wish is granted to them. If one can kill a royal ghost member, death can be overturned.

It's not true, obviously, for death is not easily beaten like that, but John knows that as an expert, would a mentally unwell teenager know the same?

It was also known that if the King appeared before you, something terrible would happen. The sighting of King Phantom often came as an omen and usually right before a terrible disaster.

In the last disaster, they lost Batman, and if King Phantom had shown up, where the Third Robin have spotted him? Where the Third Robin have thought the King could return the dead?

Not to mention the rumors!

King Phantom was hunting down a group of humans known as "The Bats." John hadn't put that much stock in that rumor simply because it could have been anyone- hell, when he looked up the bats seven different groups appeared, varying from boy bands to zoologists.

But if he placed the name "The Bats" next to the Third Robin's psychotic break, his obsession with King Phantom, and his intertwined fates...well, shit.

There is a slight chance that the Third Robin's fate could be intertwined with the Ghost King in a positive light, but John has learned to not be optimistic in his line of work.

"I think the Third Robin is gunning after the Ghost King's fiancee and unborn child in a misguided attempt to bring Batman back to life. He may have kicked started a war that humanity can not win," He announces. He hates to say. hates to even suggest it, but the needs of the many outweigh those of the few. "We have to find the Third Robin and attempt to stop him. If we can't reason with him, we must put him down."

Wonder Girl gasps a sob, pressing her hand against her mouth.

John hates himself a little more as she sobs; a few rushes to confront her, but no one is unaffected by the news.

"I'm ordering a hunt for the Third Robin," Wonderwoman speaks up to her steady leadership, returning everyone from their despair. "Every available hero will help. Do not use lethal force unless there is no other choice. We may be able to find him before King Phantom's armies arrive."

John just hopes they are not too late.

Meanwhile, across the plane of existence, unaware of the manhunt for his head, Tim Drake is trying to stare down a Yeti, attempting to put him in silk clothes that are just fabrics held together by strings.

"No."

"But-But- but you have such a flattering figure! You must flaunt it! The Great One will barely be able to contain himself if he sees you in this!"

"No. It looks like something you wear on a honeymoon to seduce your spouse. I'm not walking around in that."

"Well, you don't need to bewitch his majesty. You already have a child on the way." The Yeit mutters, considering the fabric in his claws with a frown. He is Frostbite's royal tailor and has been attempting to dress Tim for over an hour. Everything he's suggested so far looks like it came from those romantic fantasy games.

It's like they want to make him a sexy consort or something.

Tim's teeth grind against each other. He hates how often his role is reminded, how casually the yetis mention that Ra's expects a child from Tim.

He doesn't even know how that child will come to be, and it makes him sick. He's been bidding his time, waiting for his wounds to heal and to find a weakness in the frozen fortress, but so far, he is unsure how he will escape.

And Bruce is still out there, waiting for Tim to get him. He can't waste any more time here.

"How about this cloak?" The Yeti offers, holding up a dark metallic fabric that reminds TIm of his Robin cape. "If we are going for a more conservative look, something that screams power is just the way to make the masses wild!"

Ugh, he really needs to think of a plan soon.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Phantom's number 1 fan #Part 3 #The Justice League made the wrong conclusion #Or John made the wrong conculsion #Tim is still being pampered but now they want to show him off like a trophy husband they think he is #Danny is vibing while new Ghost King Lore is dropping

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pretty-little-mind33 · 10 months

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Starlight

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

Summary: You've always felt inadequate compared to Belly, but it's possible you never had a reason to.

Genre: Fluff, kinda angst? hurt and comfort <3

Warnings: harassment, underage drinking, swearing

You'd always been second to Belly Conklin. Although it had been the five of you since you could remember, for some reason it seemed like in the end only four mattered: Belly, Steven, Jeremiah, and Conrad. You were always in the shadows, and now that Isabel had returned to Cousins as beautiful as ever, you wanted to disappear.

It was now apparent to everyone around that Isabel Conklin was the Sun. And you? You weren't even the Moon. You were dust at most, and who would choose dust over the Sun?

"You having fun lil' sis?" Jeremiah fisher asks, leaning against the lonesome wall you claimed as yours. You look at him and scrunch your nose in disapproval. Parties weren't your thing. You only came because Belly had convinced you. Jeremiah grins and points behind him, "Well, that cute boy hasn't stopped looking at you since we arrived, if that makes things a little better." Jeremiah winks and your eyes round. Reluctantly, you glance behind him and see a handsome boy with blond curls smiling at you.

You panic. No boy had ever looked at you like he was and you had never wanted any boys to look at you in that way before—not unless their name was Conrad Fisher.

However Conrad is Belly's now, it's obvious, and you aren't even competition. So, you smile at the boy. You learn his name is Alex and he hands you a drink the moment you walk over to him (upon Jeremiah's insistence). Alex seems genuinely interested in your conversations so when he asks you to dance with him, you don't refuse.

His hand on your hip is foreign and it makes you nervous. But, because the small amount of liquor in your system drowns out any anxieties you have and you lean into him and let him move your hips into his. As soon as Alex's lips skim your neck however, someone's hand is gripping your arm and pulling you away. You lose your balance and bump into the person's chest.

"What the fuck." Conrad hisses. It takes you a moment to understand it isn't you he's addressing, "She's sixteen, you creep."

"Conrad!" You shout, hoping his hand would loosen around your arm. It didn't and it isn't until you push him that he turns to you. His cheeks have blushed pink and the look in his eyes makes you pause. Conrad had never looked at you like that before.

"Did he hurt you?"

You blink at him, head shaking, "Excuse me?"

"Don't touch or even speak to her again." Conard turns around to threaten Alex and your eyes widen, "Now leave." To your surprise, and disappointment, Alex reluctantly listens to him.

"What? No! What the fuck, Conrad?" You curse, pulling your arm from his hand. You stumble but keep your gaze on his. Conard frowns and his hand holds your waist instead,

"You're drunk." He says and you narrow your eyes at him.

"I had one drink!"

"You're a lightweight then." Conrad deadpans and holds out his hand to you, "I'm calling your mom, Y/n. Give me your phone."

You shake your head, "Stop it, Conrad. You're embarrassing me." You murmur and look down, tears pricking your eyelids. Conrad has always seen you as a kid. He has never seen you as an equal, or as a girl he could potentially love, and at this point you don't know which hurts more.

His expression softens seeing your teary eyes. When you look up at him, he looks guilty. You hug your arms around yourself and muster up the courage to ask, "Why did you do that?" You pause, "Alex liked me, he liked me! For once in my life a boy likes me and not Belly and you had to ruin it for me. Why!?"

You look him dead in the eyes when you say, "I hate you Conrad, and I hate that I love you even more." And you mean every single word. All you want to do now is to run and hide, but all you can do is stand there, frozen in time, as you aggressively rub your cheeks with your palm.

Conrad doesn't know how to answer you. His entire body burns to hug you, kiss you, do anything to make you smile again. Smile like you had been when he saw you dancing with that boy. Honestly, he hates himself for being jealous — because yes he was jealous. He has no claim to you whatsoever but simply seeing another boy's hands on your skin made him see red.

Conrad knows your words have been spoken only because of the alcohol you drank. He knows you don't hate him, and he knows you don't love him. Only, some part of him isn't so sure you don't love him. Part of him is hoping you do love him because he loves you too.

But he can't do anything about that now, not when you seem drunk.

"Is she crying? Y/n, are you okay?" Belly suddenly comes rushing up to you both, Cam Cameron abandoned behind her. She puts a delicate hand on your shoulder and you turn around. Instantly, you bury your head into her shoulder and start sobbing. Belly wraps her arms around you as she mouths, "What did you do" to Conrad.

You don’t think he answers her, because she takes your waist and pulls you away from him and into the nearest bathroom. You crumble to the ground and hug your knees, muttering something. Belly slowly shuts the door and kneels next to you, "How much have you had to drink?"

"Apparently, I'm drunk." You sniffs, rubbing your hand under your nose. You look at her with tears in your eyes. "You're so pretty, Belly."

Belly looks surprised, her eyes widening, and she puts her hand over yours, "You're pretty, Y/n." she says, trying to reassure you.

"Not like you are, Bells," You exclaim, "No one has ever looked at me like Cam looks at you. Or Jere. Or even Conrad! And I want them—him—to look at me like that. I don't want him to look at me like I'm a kid he has to keep in check." You choke out another whimper and bury your head in your arms, hands clutching at your hair.

"You're in love with Conrad." Belly suddenly states, her hand disappearing from yours.

Your eyes widen and you look up, quickly shaking your head, 'What? No." You could see Belly's cheeks turn pinker. You'd known about Belly's massive crush on Conrad Fisher since forever and you had never intended to stand in their way. You never even intended to tell Conrad, or anyone for that matter, that you love him.

"It doesn't matter, trust me. Conrad loves you, Belly." You assure her but she doesn't look in any way convinced.

"I don't love him and he doesn't love me." Belly comments determinedly, standing up, "And I'm going to show you why."

You don't understand what she means until a few minutes after she left, the bathroom door opens again. Conrad runs in like he's seen a ghost. In a blur, his hands cup around your cheeks and he's moving your head around, "How did that bastard touch you? Y/n tell me now or I swear–" Your eyes must have been wide open because Conrad squints at you, confused.

"Connie," You say and hearing his nickname, Conrad's body relaxes, "Alex didn't hurt me."

"Belly mentioned you had a fucking bruise, Y/n/n." Conrad continues to roam his hands around your skin as gently as he can. You look at his face. His beautiful face and you notice how different the small freckles he gets because of the sun look in the darkness of this small bathroom. Conrad Fisher has always been so beautiful. If Belly is the Sun, then you're sure he's the Moon and that realization only breaks your heart more.

Conrad's thumb pads under your eye, "Don't cry." He says.

You look up at him and he can't help but think how beautiful you are. Conrad wishes he could give you his eyes, even only from a day, so that you could see yourself just as he sees you.

"I'm not drunk. I promise." You whisper and he cracks a smile. He nods, "I-Connie, if I tell you this can you promise it won't change a thing?"

"Sure." He answers and sits down in front of you, his hands draped across your knees.

"I meant what I said. I hate you," Conrad's face falls, "But I hate you because you won't ever love me the way I love you. I hate you because every time I look at you I want to be someone else, someone that would be worthy of your love. Someone prettier—"

"Y/n," Conrad interrupts you with his hand over your mouth, "Don't finish that sentence. Please. It breaks my heart that you can't see yourself like I see you." He removes his hand and you stay silent. His fingers run through your hair until he cups your chin, "How can you expect nothing to change now that I know you love me?"

You cringe and turn your head, "Because I don't want to lose you."

You hear him laugh and as beautiful as the sound is, it tears your heart into a million little pieces. "You could never lose me." He says and leans back, his arms now crossed over his knees. He's looking into space. You glance at him and he looks like the old Connie. His eyebrows are raised and it looks like he's smirking.

You sniff, "I am losing you."

Conrad tilts his head, "How?"

"Because you love Belly. Because she's the Sun and you're the Moon and I'm, well, I'm fucking dust." You exclaim and Conrad looks at you like you've suddenly grown two heads.

"What?"

"Don't make me repeat myself." You whisper.

Conrad inches towards you, his arms outstretched. You look at him curiously but still, you let him hug you. You're leaning against his chest now and he smells like laundry detergent and sea salt. His large hand rests in your hair and he leans his chin on your head, "I don't love Belly, Y/n. Not in that way. She's like my little sister. She has always been."

"Oh," You say and you think back to Belly's words: Conrad doesn't love me, and I'm going to show you why. You think back to how Conrad looked at you when he was pissed at Alex, or how he almost broke the bathroom door down to make sure you weren't hurt. "Am I like your sister too? Is that why you got so protective?"

You sense his body tense and there is a pause.

"No." Conrad breathes out, "Y/n, you're not like my sister."

You lean away and look at him. Your tone is serious now, "So what am I to you, Conrad?"

His eyes shine blue like the ocean and you almost drown looking at them. He's so close to you now and his cheeks are rosy. You both smell faintly like cranberry liquor and his hand is soft on the exposed skin of your thighs, "You're a Star. My Star."

You feel like you've lost your breath, "I'm your Star?"

Conrad nods, "You see, the Moon is lonely." He explains, expression serious, "He's usually all alone and sometimes it makes him want to cry. But whenever his Star comes out of hiding and shines into the darkness, the Moon is happy again. Unfortunately, his Star doesn't know how brightly she shines though. Most times, the Sun can't even compare because this Star," Conrad pauses, "his Star, isn't blinding. You can look at her shine all night and she'll always be the most beautiful thing. She's kind and brave and the Moon loves her more than anything." You have the sudden urge to sob and Conrad brings his thumb under your eye again, catching some tears, "Shh, it's okay." He says and you don't know how to react. You're suddenly wondering if, because of your crying, you have snot running down your nose.

Conrad Fisher has just declared his love for you and you're thinking about snot. It's all so funny you laugh. Conrad's nose scrunches, "Are you laughing at me?" He asks, mouth ajar.

You shake your head, "No!" You say but you start laughing again, covering your mouth and shrinking into yourself.

"Oh I see, you can make corny metaphors but I can't." Conrad rolls his eyes. Your mouth twists into a smile and you take his cheeks in your hands, pulling him to you until your noses are almost touching. In between your fingers you can see the tips of Conrad's ears turn pink.

"You can make as many metaphors as you want, Con. As long as you mean them."

He smiles, "I have never meant anything more in my life, Y/n/n."

You feel his hand find its way to the back of your head and he pulls you forward, his lips meeting yours. It's like a weight has been lifted from both your chests and you kiss him back instantly. It isn't like you imagined your first kiss with Conrad to go. You certainly weren't sitting on the floor of some random person's bathroom, dried tears on your cheeks.

But, it's still somehow better.

Conrad's hands now find themselves on your hips as he continues to kiss you, lips delicately moving to your neck. The situation is so ironic you chuckle. You move away and Conrad looks confused.

You fake a pout, "I'm sixteen, Connie. Isn't this a little inappropriate."

Conrad begins to panic, "What? I-I mean, I'm barely a year older than you! Are you uncomfortable because," He pauses seeing your expression and he suddenly remembers what he had said to Alex and he blushes, "Okay, that wasn't funny." He whines.

"Kinda was." You boast.

Conrad leans back and tucks some hair behind your ear, "So what do you say we leave this bathroom and go dance." He asks and your heart flutters. You nod. You had never wanted anything more.

* ~ *

Summer ended and came again quickly. It had been a year since Conrad kissed you in that bathroom and a year since he became your boyfriend. Since you didn't live in Cousins, long distance had been complicated. But this was Conrad—when he wanted something he was determined to make it work and luckily for him you had the same amount of determination.

It was Belly's seventeenth birthday, yours having happened a few months prior to the Summer, and Shayla was throwing her a party. Parties usually weren't your thing but having Conrad around made things better.

"Hey lovebirds, this is my make out spot now. Go away." Jeremiah exclaims, leaning on the wall you and Conrad had claimed as your own. He pushes you away from your boyfriend. You laugh as Conrad sends Jeremiah a dirty look.

"You're a freak, Jere. Why can't you find your own?" He asks, his arm remaining around your waist.

"Because this is the only quiet one, and she isn't the only one who wants privacy."

You look at Micheal, Jeremiah's boyfriend, and smile, "Hi, Mike." Micheal awkwardly smiles back.

"Why can't you find a bathroom?" Argues Conrad.

"Occupied." Jeremiah defends.

"Okay children, calm down." You say, taking your boyfriend's hand in yours, "Babe, I’m thirsty, do you think you could grab us drinks while I dance with Belly and Taylor?" Conrad sighs and looks down at you. He squeezes your hand.

"Of course, Starlight." Conrad says sweetly. He then turns around and ignores Jeremiah as he says a quick hello to Micheal and leaves for the kitchen. You smile sheepishly, "Sorry, here!" You move from the wall, "Have fun! I mean–um. Yeah!" You state, waving, and quickly leave to find Belly and Taylor.

"Y/n!" Belly shouts from the crowd and you push your way towards them. Belly hugs you and when she pulls away her cheeks are flushed and you know she's had one too many drinks. But, by the way Taylor is holding her hand you know she's in good hands. Literally.

"Hi, Bells'. Tay." You smile and start to dance with them. Taylor nods at you, gripping Belly's hips and moves them to the music. Just like last year they're wearing flower crowns and they look beautiful. Your mind wanders to Conrad and you remember how he'd offered to buy or make you a flower crown last year since Belly only had two. He'd been so kind. You smile. However, just as quickly as your smile came it disappeared because someone's hands touched your waist. You know it's not Conrad, you know how his hands feel and these aren't his hands.

You turn around only to be met with familiar blond curls, "Alex?"

"Hi, Y/n." Alex smiles, not moving his hands. You return his smile awkwardly. You don't know what to do. His smile makes you want to puke and you don't understand why. You look around for Conrad. "You wanna finish our dance, without interruptions this time?"

"Oh, I'm sorry Alex, I actually have a boyfriend." You mutter and shakily move his hands. Belly has turned around now and when she notices Alex, she drunkenly frowns. In seconds she's taking your hand and pulling you into her and away from the boy.

"Hi," She slurs, "I'm Belly."

Alex sends her a tight-lipped smile, "Hi," You look away but his hand gripping your arm makes you turn to him again, "I-" He starts but he's interrupted by Conrad yanking his arm, causing him to drop his hold on you.

"Don't ever touch her." Conrad snaps.

Alex squints at Conrad, "Not you again." He looks at you, "Does he even know you?"

"I'm her boyfriend, dipshit." Conrad exclaims, his arm going around your shoulder and you unconsciously lean into him.

Alex frowns, "Oh," He moves away, "My bad, man." Your hands clench. Suddenly it matters that you're taken? It hadn't only a minute earlier! When Alex leaves, you turn to Belly and Taylor and they look just as disgusted as you do.

"My bad, man." Taylor mocks, "Asshole." She says and continues to dance.

"Men suck." Belly mutters, taking Taylor's hand and spinning her around. You laugh. You would have agreed, had your boyfriend's hands around your waist not reminded you that no, not all men sucked. But then again, not all men were your boyfriend.

You spin back around and he pulls you into him, "You ok?" He asks, genuinely concerned. You smile and nod, "Good." He says, rubbing his thumb over your hips. His lips twist into a smirk and you tilt your head.

"You look like you enjoyed that." You say.

Conrad raises his brow, "I did not enjoy him touching you when you were obviously uncomfortable, Starlight."

You laugh, "No, I meant telling him that you're my boyfriend."

"I am your boyfriend." Conrad smirks and leans in to kiss your forehead. He looks at you, blue eyes shining, "Is it so bad that I want people, especially idiots like him, to know?"

You pretend to think for a moment, "No," You smile, "I don't think it's bad."

"Good because I want everyone to know." Conrad says as he kisses your lips. You lean up and wrap your arms around his shoulders.

"Ew, gross." Belly groans, pulling on your arm, "Connie, leave her alone. It's my birthday and I want to dance with my best friends!" You chuckle as Conrad’s eyebrows scrunch but he doesn't protest, he only points to Belly and says,

"Only because it's your birthday."

Belly drunkenly points her tongue at him and Conrad smirks, amused at how childish she is when she's drunk. You look at them and your own smile curls your lips. A year ago, Conrad smiling at Belly would have made your heart sink and your insecurities spiral. Now, those insecurities are forgein because while Belly might be the Sun and Conrad might be the Moon, you were his Star.

And what is a Moon without Stars?

#conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher w you #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher fluff #conrad fisher smut #conrad fisher fanfic #the summer i turned pretty #the summer i turned pretty fanfiction

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long-live-astronerd-ghost-king · 8 months

Text

DPXDC prompt. Granny al Ghul

Ra's al Ghul believed that there were no former members of the League of Assassins. Maddie understood that perfectly, but it didn’t make her any more prepared when she saw her father.

"Hey, are you my favorite sweet grandpa?" Danny, who noticed his mother freezing in fear after opening the door, immediately stood in front of her. "Want to hug?"

"It was you again! I know for sure." The head of the league hissed in anger. ''Get out!"

"But this is my house." Her son shrugged his shoulders and smiled in a strange snide way. "Do you want me to show you my room or do you want me to chew a cookie for you? You look totally senile. Even your feet can’t hold you."

Ra's Al Ghul was shaking with rage. "Don’t play dumb, I know you’ve been tinkering with water in my Lazarus pits." "They are part of the nature reserve of the Ghost Zone." Danny was rightly outraged. "Write your name on them even a hundred times, they will not be yours."

"But you’ll get a fine for vandalism. You’re lucky I didn’t report you to the authorities." Danny threatens grandpa with his finger. "But it’s only because we’re family, you know?" Ra's frowns but stops arguing. "Would you like a cup of tea?" Danny’s offering a truce. Ra's sighs. "Well, I wouldn't say no."

~~~~~

"Do you like your drink?" Danny asks, pouring grandpa more green tea with milk. "Disgusting." The head of the League of Assassins answers sincerely. "Good." Danny’s smiling like a gremlin. "Hey, do you want to see an album with photos of baby Danny, Ra's?" asks Jack, who doesn’t notice the tension around. "No." Maddie was sitting there with her eye twitching for the last 40 minutes. "I would like to see a family photo album, Madeline." Ra's, who saw an opportunity to embarrass his insolent grandson, did not want to lose it.

~~~~~

"For the last time, why should I participate in this abomination?" Ra's stared angrily at his grandson pushing him into the classroom.

"Come on, grandpa, you saw my photo from kindergarten with a piss on my pants." Danny looked at him, batting his eyelashes.

Ra's rolled his eyes."And why does it mean I have to join this circus?"

"We’re definitely family now! And I promised Mr. Lancer I will take on Career Day this year anyone but not mom or dad. I’m definitely not gonna call Vlad. So that leaves you." Danny pushed him again.

The guard at the Demon's Head got nervous, but Ra’s hand stopped him. "I did not agree."Grandpa moved one of the swords to Danny’s neck.

Fenton just brushed it off with a frown. "Come on, tell everyone a little bit about your plans for immortality and world domination. Maybe I’ll be interested in being your heir then. I promise to listen carefully!"

~~~~

"The most important thing in educating your minions is control. They must feel an absolute fear of your authority." The inspired Ra's continued his speech after the bell. Lancer was taking notes. Tucker looked at it.

"I don’t like it, guys. I stick to the good old-fashioned disciplinary measures, you know?" Techno geek whispered.

"Well, I’m totally fine with it." Danny, who had noticed that after a fascinating lecture about the most effective tortures Dash was sitting two desks further away from him, showed his grandfather fist with the thumb up.

~~~~

"I changed my mind, I’ll kill him." Danny roared, running around the stadium after his thirtieth lap. What idiot from the school board took his crazy grandfather’s advice about organizing extra fitness classes? Next to him Wes fell to the ground. "Do it, Phantom. Avenge us." The boy wheezed at the last breath. "No distractions, five more laps!" Ra's stood on the field with the hand fan. "This bastar-r-rd." Danny roared furiously. "What? My favorite grandson wants to run another ten? Well, I can’t say no, right, coach?" Demon's Head yelled.

~~~~

"You know, it is really nice to take a vacation sometimes. I feel an unprecedented surge of strength." Ra’s reached out to Mr. Lancer standing next to him. "Would you like to meet for coffee sometime?"

"How about Friday, around 7:00 p.m.?" Mr Lancer looked at his schedule. "No, I’m busy at this time." Ra's sighed with regret. "We have a ritual sacrifice scheduled for six p.m." "You have a great sense of humor, my friend." Mr. Lancer laughed. "Who knew Mr. Fenton had such an intriguing and well-read grandfather. You’re full of surprises, Mr al Ghul." ~~~~ Damian, sitting on the roof of Casper High, lays down his binoculars and sighs. "Yes, mother is right, grandfather finally lost his mind." "Well, I’m glad you noticed too." A voice filled with relief rang very close. "Who’s here?" Damian took out the katana. "Um, boo?" Void’s voice answered.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dpxdp prompt #dpxdc prompts #dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover

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ponderingmoonlight · 7 months

Text

How JJK men react when (y/n) gets injured

Pairing: Nanami x reader; Megumi x reader; Toji x reader; Geto x reader

Word Count: 2,4k

Warnings: injury (lol), listen I know Geto's one isn't that realistic, I just needed something with a lot of fluff, don't come at me okay, also might be shitty because my sick head isn't funcional at the moment so have mercy How Gojo reacts when (y/n) gets injured can be found here Aaaaand Choso with a injured (y/n) who has blood phobia here

Nanami Kento

You weren’t fast enough. The second the bullet enters your skin, you know you fucked up.

“(y/n)!”, Nanami’s distant voice calls out your name.

You clench your teeth, blood pumping in your ears while a stabbing pain spreads in your guts. This is bad. Very very bad. This is a mission you have to complete together, Nanami and Yuji both rely on you. Fuck, you’re a jujutsu sorcerer, even a grade 1. And then you get hit by a bullet this easily?

How pathetic.

It seems like the weight of your own body forces you to your knees, warmth spreading from your stomach over your lower body. Slowly but surely, the stabbing pain in your guts gets less noticeable, you have to fight desperately to keep your eyes from shutting.

Nanami…It’s not fair that you let him hang like this, hit by a random bullet on that random Wednesday. After all, you still had so much to tell him, experiences to share. What about the plans you’ve made earlier about finally asking him out? The words slip off your tongue with every passing second. No matter how hard every fiber of your being fights against the darkness, it proceeds to consume you.

“Goddamnit (y/n)”, Nanami hisses through gritted teeth when he finally reaches you.

“Yuji, take care of that man with the gun!”

“Hey, you can’t die on me today. Keep your eyes open for me, yeah? Don’t close them. Are you able to stand up?”

So much blood. The whole floor underneath you is covered in crimson, making it hard to breathe for Nanami. This shouldn’t have happened, he is fucking responsible for this, he should have kept his eyes open, he-

“I’m so sorry about leaving you hanging, Nanami”, you breathe out.

His heart sinks, hand frantically pressing against your gaping wound while his shaky fingers try to dial Shoko’s number on his phone.

“You won’t leave me today. I’m taking care of you. You’re safe with me.”

A weak smile forms itself on your tired lips as he speaks to Shoko on the phone in hushed tones. While everyone around him thinks he’s harsh and cold-hearted, you know that Nanami is in fact a tender man that puts the safety of others over himself without blinking. You always admired him for how he carries himself with so much class, looking cool while doing the most banal tasks.

“How is your pain level? Do you need anything? Shoko will be here in a minute, I promise”, he speaks to you in a calm but shaky voice.

“I don’t feel any pain. I just feel really really tired.”

Your eyes threaten to flutter shut again when Nanami’s thumb begins to caress your cheek gently.

“Everything will be alright, I promise (y/n)”, he softly murmurs.

You can tell by the way he looks down at you that he means what he says, the way his calm orbs glister making you tear up.

“I really wanted…to ask you out…tonight…”

Every word rolls off your tongue like a heavy stone while your mind seems to let you down.

“I would love that. Just stay with me, okay? Then I’ll invite you to dinner, I’ll even cook your favorite meal for you.”

“That sounds…wonderful…”

“But to do that, you’ll need to hold on for me a little longer, sweetheart. Focus on my voice, breathe with me”, he instructs you.

“Can you…hold me for a while?”

“Of course”, he replies without thinking, firm arms wrapping themselves around your shivering body instantly.

Megumi Fushiguro

Even though you feel like fainting, you don’t stop running behind him. Damn, that curse did really hit you where it hurts, your stabbed thigh feeling like it’s going to give up on you with every step you take.

“Did that curse hurt you?”, he shouts in your direction.

You should really tell him, you know you need help as soon as possible. But something inside you is too proud to open up. After all, the boy in front of you is none other Megumi Fushiguro. You can’t show him weakness, not in a million lifetimes.

“No”, you lie.

Just in time, you make it out of the building that collapses into itself behind you, a wave of rubble and ashes blowing over your head while you lay down, trying desperately not to groan. You press your hand against your thigh to somehow stop the pain, only to get greeted by the sickening sight of blood all over your hands. You swallow heavy, blood running between your fingertips.

“(y/n)? (y/n), where are you, oh, there you-“

Megumi stops in his tracks, eyes widen in horror when is gaze meets the flood of crimson that now covers the floor underneath you.

“You idiot, why did you lie to me?”, he hisses, instantly rushing to your side.

Oh god, there’s a gaping hole in your thigh – a gaping hole that runs like a waterfall. While you’re not that critically injured, the attack might have hit a crucial vein or artery. And that means you could in fact bleed out within the next few minutes if he doesn’t act right now.

Your toe-curling cry echoes through the barracks when Megumi presses his hand against your thigh with full force, making you see stars while a big lump forms in your throat.

“Serves you right. You should have told me that you’re hurt, you know that right? How many fingers?”

He holds up his other hand so close to your face that you can see nothing but his fingertips, a silent laughter escaping your blue colored lips.

“I’m serious (y/n)! Stop laughing and answer the question”, he grumbles.

“5”, you reply weakly.

“It’s two”, he murmurs, eyes scanning over your so worn-out looking face.

“You look rather pale.”

“Oh, I’m not feeling that great to be honest”, you mutter, ice cold sweat clamming to your skin.

He lets out his breath, gaze fixated on you. It seems like his anger fades away the more he looks at you, shivering uncontrollably while your eyes flutter open and shut all the time. Urgh, even though you’re suborn as hell, you absolutely don’t deserve to feel like this.

“Come on, stop acting up. You’ve had worse.”

You don’t reply. Instead, your hand grabs his arm, holding onto him for what feels like dear life as a single tear runs down your face. You hate to admit it, but you’re scared as hell. If feels like life is slipping through your fingers, seconds play before your eyes like a movie. This is the first time you’ve ever got injured like that. And even if Megumi tries to play it cool, you can tell by the way he scrunches his forehead that it’s looking anything but great.

“I just didn’t want you to think I’m weak”, you admit quietly.

His heart skips a beat, his features soften in an instant.

“Are you kidding? I’d never think you’re weak, (y/n). To be honest I’m surprised you haven’t fainted yet”, he remarks dryly.

To be honest he is surprised that he himself hasn’t fainted, considering all the flood that spills through his fingertips. But he has to be strong, he has to get through this with you.

“Pinky promise?”, you croak, holding up your shaky hand with all the strength that’s left in your body.

“Pinky promise”, Megumi whispers, intertwining his finger with your little one.

Toji Fushiguro

“Oooops my bad, that one should have normally killed you”, the man in front of you mumbles, a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

You shake in pure horror, pain rushing through your shoulder as you hold onto the gaping wound his bullet left in your sensitive skin.

“Please don’t kill me”, you weep, crawling backwards until your back hits the ice cold wall.

Spilling tears take your sight completely, you can’t help but burst into weeping without any mercy. Toji stares down at you, cold eyes surprised by your sight.

“I think I’ve never seen someone bawling this much. Did it really hurt that bad, huh?”

You stare at him through wet lashes, whole body on fire when his frame comes closer and closer. No, you need to run as fast as you can, away from this wicked place, out of his sight.

But instead, you sit still, glazed eyes fixated on his stunning features.

Roughly, he grabs your face, making you weep all over again.

“You’re actually quite cute…Maybe too cute to die…”

“Oh, come on sweet thing, stop crying for me will you?”

His thumb traces over your puffy cheeks, wipes away the trail of tears his bullet and the promise of death that’s threatening in his eyes left on your porcelain skin.

You can’t catch your breath, gasping for air like a fish on land with your hand still pressed against your aching shoulder.

“Sorry ‘bout that”, he mumbles, other hand reaching for your shoulder.

“Please don’t hurt me”, you cry out, flinching under his surprisingly gentle touch.

“I’m a man of honor, I’d never hurt you”, he replies with casual voice.

“Ahh, nothing too bad. A few kisses and you’re fine.”

You blink against the swell of tears, urgently trying to calm yourself down. Aching, fear and insecurity simply take your breath away. But the man in front of you…Despite looking so dangerous, it’s almost as if his face softened, as if he really means what he said.

“Now stop cryin’, ‘kay? I’m sorry ‘bout that shoulder of yours, thought you’re here to kill me or something.”

“I would never kill anyone”, you reply with shaky voice.

Why would you come here to kill him? All of this makes no sense to you. You just walked home from work, ready to take a bath and watch Netflix when all of the sudden, all this men came out of nowhere, dragging you along with him until the man in front of you killed them and shoot you.

“Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t princess. Just a misunderstanding.”

“It hurts”, you press out, a shocking wave of pain throbbing through your arm when you try to shift your weight.

“Wouldn’t do that if I was you. Let’s make a deal: I’ll get someone to stitch you up and you’ll spend the night with me, huh?”

Your doe eyes stare up at him in nothing but innocence. Oh, you truly know nothing about the cruel world around you, probably not even able to see curses. What a cute little thing you are, too good for the world around you and especially Toji himself. But he just can’t resist.

“And you’re really not going to kill me?”, you whine into his hand.

Gently, he wraps his fingertips around your chin.

“Of course not, princess. You’re way too precious to die”, he purrs.

Geto Suguru

You know that it’s stupid, that Geto is more than capable to look after himself. But the second a curse rushes his direction, you sprint forwards, shielding his body with your own.

Resulting in not only the teeth of the curse scratching your skin, but one of Geto’s curses hitting your head with full force.

You fall to the hard ground immediately, soul leaving your body behind. Instead of pain, you just feel numb, staring into the sound while the only thing that reminds you that you’re still alive is the growing ringing in your ears.

Geto’s heart drops the second you fall to the ground in front of him, naked fear crawling up his spine. No, no, no. This can’t be true. He didn’t just hit you full force, right? Instinctively, he falls to his knees besides you, grabbing your shoulders.

“Please tell be you’re alright, (y/n)”, he repeats over and over, hands holding onto you for dear life.

He knows you are tuff, that you can take a lot. But this…

Please don’t let it be too much.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you”, he mumbles, fingertips now gently stroking over your hair.

All you can do is stare into his brown eyes above you, body refusing its service completely. God, how absolutely stunning this man looks. Yes, it should be forbidden to look this good. Maybe you should ask him out when your mouth is working again, a nice date in a park or something. His facial features look so delicious that you want to let your hands glide along his jawline, just the way the other hand is doing right now.

“I would love to lick that”, you mutter so suffocated that Geto almost misses it.

Almost. Along with your fingertips that move up and down his jaw, his face reddens in an instant. What has gotten into you? Since when are you this flirty, this straightforward? You must’ve hit your head pretty badly.

“(y/n), I think you should see a doctor”, he suggests while awkwardly scratching the back of his head.

“I think I should see more of you, handsome”, you babble out.

“You hit your head pretty badly.”

“And your head is pretty.”

He signs. Although your sugary words make his heart hammer against his ribcage, he has to remind himself that you’re probably having a concussion - at least. At the moment, he can’t take your words seriously, no matter how hard he wants them to be true.

“Okay, I’ll call Shoko now. Do you feel alright? Does your head hurt? Does something else hurt? Please talk to me, (y/n).”

You smile at him widely, too mesmerized by the way that one strand of hair falls so effortlessly on his striking face.

“What a shame I never told you how beautiful you are”, you blurt out, fingertips grabbing nothing but air in an attempt to get a hold of his hair.

He can’t hold a small grin back. God, how are you doing that? Looking so fine with your arm ripped open by a curse and your eyes roaming around without an aim?

“Look, I’m not the brightest tool in the…toolbox.”

Geto raises an eyebrow in amusement at your creative phrase.

“But I…I mean it…Suguru…”, you mutter out his name.

“Let’s talk about this again when your head wasn’t hit by a curse shaped like a huge dragon, okay?”, he softly whispers, hand still stroking through your messy hair.

“Yeah…S-sure…” _____________________________________________________________ Now that you've made it this far

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stylesispunk · 3 months

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Waiting room

Joel Miller x f! reader

summary: A few years ago, Joel saved your life and you have loved him ever since but he didn't reciprocate your feelings or that's what you thought. word count: 2,5k a/n: I didn't write a chapter for "The Not so Invisible String" series but wrote this. I would appreciate receiving reblogs and comments. Happy reading!

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

"What happened to me?" you questioned, your curiosity seeking answers.

"I found you," the stranger replied. "You had slept for two days."

In two days, you changed the rules of the game.

In two days, Joel came across with his humanity when he found you laying on the ground after being beaten up by some smugglers.

And what a plot twist you were.

You were so young and naïve when the world broke into a mess, and the reminisces of your old life before were just fogging memories threatened to be erased completely by the clouds of your head. You had forgotten your mother’s voice, the taste of the cookies she baked on Sunday’s afternoons, and the essence of her perfume enveloping you in embraces you were never going to get back.

You still craved a lingering, real sort of comfort that hadn’t come. In this world, emotions make you weak, and being weak means you die.

The closest thing to caring you received from someone was from Joel. The day he found you, he treated your wounds, he prevented you from dying by starving himself, and he fed you with his food.

“I broke my rules for you.” He peeped once you recovered, but still, he let you stay.

Through the months and years, you had become accustomed to the idea of him and Tess being the only people you could trust; they were older and wiser than you, a perk but also a source of constant disappointment over the idea of you being seen as the foolish, weak kid.

You felt a burden. You were a constant troublemaker, getting into trouble with everyone who seemed to mess with you, but under some eyes, you were still Joel’s girl, just that you really weren’t. You just idealize the idea of it.

Because every time somebody hit you, he was there, and if that wasn’t love, what the fuck was it?

You knew that there was something between them beyond a simple partner-in-crime relationship. They weren’t what you would call lovers, but there was unspoken language between them you couldn’t decipher, not because you were a fool but because you weren’t a part of them.

Because you weren’t important,

You didn’t know if Joel cared about you coming back.

You were just someone Joel found almost dying.

Whereas for you, he was the closest thing you felt to home.

"Where were you?" his voice called out in the middle of the dark room, breaking the silence of the eerie night.

“God, you scared me,” you answered. "I thought you were asleep."

"You know I don't go to sleep unless I know you're here." His voice was so sharp it could cut in half.

Liar.

“You are asleep other times,” you acknowledged, trying to remove your boots without whimpering as the pain settled in your bones. “And I'm here. You can go to sleep now," you hissed, out of frustration but also from the pain emanating from cuts.

"No."

"Well, I'll go then," you replied.

“Come here, show me,” he demanded.

“No.”

“Come here,” he repeated, frustrated this time.

“I said, “

“Now!” the raised tone sent shivers down your spine, forming a lump in your throat.

You were there, not moving, and he was closer. The dim light in the room cast eerie shadows as he examined your face, his fingertips tracing the evidence of the scars painted on your skin.

The cut on your bottom lip throbbed with each breath. A bruise, vividly purple, marred the skin around your eye, testimony to the violence that had been part of it and the cut on your nose, which seemed to be broken.

Not only do you face hurt, but all your body is carrying the consequences of a beating you didn’t think you deserved. Your bones felt crushed under the pressure of the emotional turbulence going on in your head.

And Joel’s touch, his gentle touch, so delicate yet full of fury, not towards you but at the merciless people that forced such a wound on you. You winced as his fingers grazed the tender skin; his silence was so loud.

“Who did this to you?” he muttered, frustration lacing his voice. The sharpness of his earlier tone softened under your teary stare.

“It doesn’t matter,” you replied.

“It does to me,” he retorted.

“No. Joel, let me be alone. It hurts; my body was hit, and I would be dead if it weren’t for you,“you sobbed.

“For what?”

"For you," you admitted through a shaky breath, the weight of the truth bearing down on you. The room seemed to shrink as you uttered those words, exposing a vulnerability that had remained buried beneath the facade of strength.

Joel's eyes softened, and the fury in his touch transformed into a gentleness that contrasted with the brutality of reality outside. In that fleeting moment, it was just the two of you, suspended in a fragile moment.

His voice, now a whisper, carried a mix of concern and disbelief. "For me?"

“The only reason I’m not dead is because of you. Can you believe it?” You chuckled. “One of the men there recognized me as Joel’s girl, who I am not, and then they stopped. Not even because I’m a person, but because I am associated with a man.”

Joel's expression tightened at the revelation, a flicker of anger passing through his eyes.

“Let me clean your wounds, “Joel began, his voice a gentle plea to attend to your wounds.

"No. I don't need your fucking help," you interrupted, frustration lacing your words, tired of being the dog at Joel’s door waiting for him to notice your loyalty and devotion.

"Yes, you need it because you're a fucking naive baby acting restless and so careless." Joel retorted, frustrated.

“"I have no one. My life is just a waste of air for this damn world, so why should I care about my well-being?" you shot back bitterly, the pain in your voice mirroring the bruises on your body.

"Because I care about you," Joel admitted, his words a brief glimmer of hope. However, before you could fully grasp the weight of his confession, he extinguished any expectations. "You have Tess and me; we share our roof with you."

"Exactly. Your place, not mine," you argued, a stark reminder of the boundaries that confined your sense of belonging.

"Your point?" Joel challenged.

"You found me once and brought me here, okay? Thanks for it. But that doesn't mean I have your respect," you asserted, the frustration bubbling to the surface.

"My protection is not enough." Joel questioned, his patience wearing thin.

"It's not," you replied with conviction.

"Then you can go and find your own fucking place."

"That's what I'm doing. I'm leaving the QZ. There may be a place that fits for me," you declared, the decision firm in your voice.

Joel's silence echoed through the room, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. But you offered none, maintaining a stoic resolve as you walked away from the confrontation.

"What? Where?" he finally managed to utter, a mixture of confusion and concern etched on his face.

"Goodnight," you replied tersely, your voice carrying the weight of unspoken emotions. The darkness of the hallway enveloped you as you retreated towards the bedroom. The door creaked shut behind you, leaving Joel standing in the dimly lit room, grappling with the echoes of your departure.

The room was shrouded in darkness, and you lay on the bed, the events of the night replaying in your mind like a relentless loop making fun of you for being so foolish, but despite the physical exhaustion, sleep eluded you, and your thoughts continued to wander through the tangled maze of emotions.

And Joel, of course, whom you were leaving behind tomorrow morning before he could even notice you were going to disappear.

As you lay there, the door creaked open, and Joel entered, carrying a small bottle and a cloth. The soft glow of a flashlight in his hand illuminated his face, revealing concern and remorse for his previous attitude.

"I brought something for the pain," he muttered, his gruff voice softened by a vulnerability you rarely could see. You remained silent, acknowledging his presence with a nod.

Joel approached, his movements deliberate as he poured a few pills onto his weathered palm. "Take these. They'll help with the pain and help you sleep."

You reluctantly accepted the medicine, swallowing it down with a sip of water from a nearby bottle. The bitterness lingered on your tongue.

Joel then reached for the cloth, dampening it with water. Gently, he began to clean the wounds on your face, his touch surprisingly tender. The initial sting of contact faded, replaced by a strange mix of relief and discomfort.

"Joel,” you said, but he didn’t answer and focused on tending to your injuries.

"Joel," you repeated, a little more assertive this time. His name hung in the air, yet he remained silent, his attention fixed on the task at hand. The rhythmic motions of cleaning your wounds seemed to be his sole purpose.

You took a deep breath, the weight of unspoken words settling heavily in the room. "Joel," you said once more, this time with an edge of urgency, attempting to draw him out of his concentrated silence.

He finally looked up, meeting your gaze. "What is it?"

The room felt hot with tension as you hesitated before finding the words. "I appreciate this—the medicine, cleaning my wounds. But it doesn't change my mind about leaving.”

His gaze held yours, an unspoken plea for understanding. "You're hurt; you can't go so far in your state," he replied, a touch of concern in his voice.

"So what?" you retorted, frustration bubbling to the surface. "If I have to die outside, I will. I don't care. I'm just tired of this life."

Joel's eyes narrowed, his expression shifting from anger to concern. "What would make that thought go away?" he asked, his question cutting through the defiance in your tone.

"What?" you responded, caught off guard by the unexpected question.

"What would make life worth living?" he repeated, his gaze unwavering. The weight of his inquiry settled in the room, demanding introspection.

The silence that followed was heavy, the question lingering in the air as you grappled with the complexities of your own desires and the harsh realities of the world outside that broke any chance of achieving the dreams you had when you were a child.

The silence stretched, becoming a tangible force in the room, until Joel's desperation cut through it like a blade. "I'm waiting," he said, his tone laden with urgency.

"To have someone," you confessed, your voice carrying the weight of unspoken longings.

"How?" he pressed, searching for clarity in your cryptic words.

"To have someone that cares for me," you explained, the vulnerability in your voice laying bare a deep-seated yearning, a yearning you had been carrying for years.

"You have me," Joel insisted, his desperation now tinged with frustration.

"You're not mine; you're hers," you said, invoking Tess. "Do you think I don't hear you both having sex?”

His eyes widened, realization dawning on him as the unspoken truth reverberated in the room.

"Maybe my body was hers, but inside, it's here." Joel took your hand and placed it over his chest, just above his heart. "I'm craving for you."

A tense silence enveloped the room as your words hung in the air, and Joel's eyes reflected all the sincerity of his feelings slipping from his lips. Your skepticism pierced through the charged atmosphere, casting a shadow over the vulnerability that had been exposed.

"I don't believe you," you declared, a note of disbelief in your voice.

Joel's expression tightened, a blend of irritation and determination etched on his face. "You don't?"

"You're just saying those things out of pity," you accused, the walls of defense rising once more.

He shook his head, a flicker of frustration evident in his eyes. "You are whiny, a pain in the ass, arrogant, naive..."

"Stop!" you exclaimed, the litany of criticism hitting you harder than expected.

"Yet, despite it all," Joel continued, his voice a mixture of exasperation and something deeper, "you make me go crazy, and still, I want to break every single finger that has been laid against you."

The weight of Joel's words hung in the air, a revelation that cut through the tension and laid bare the depth of his emotions. His eyes, always filled with exasperation, now held a raw vulnerability.

"You don't realize that you brought sense back to my life!" he exclaimed, the urgency in his voice echoing through the room. "If you go and you die, there's nothing left for me to fight for."

"I want to be the last one you love," he spoke, his hands cupping your face, fingers tracing delicate patterns over the scars that adorned your skin. His gaze, dark and intense, held a promise that lingered in the air. "I want to be your ending."

"And I want you to be my ending," he added, referring to the weight of the words hanging between you.

A profound silence settled, punctuated only by the erratic beats of your heart against your ribs, In that moment, you felt that the confession of love coming from Joel was the last source of breath you needed to become a person again.

And then, he kissed you. With a warning written on his dark eyes, yet you didn't see it coming. He kissed you because there wasn't anything else to do. He wanted to claim your lips as them because they were his.

Joel's lips lingered against yours, the warmth of his kiss irradiated foreign feelings for you. You had never felt so loved for someone before, and as the kiss deepened, a subtle smile played on his lips, a rare expression coming from him.

He pulled away slightly, his dark eyes searching yours for any sign of resistance. His hands, calloused and weathered, gently caressed your face, tracing the contours of the scars on your face.

"You're not leaving," he spoke against your lips, with another gentle peck on them.

A shy smile played on your lips in response. "Whatever,” you replied.

Joel's confession had acted as a healing salve, mending not just the physical scars but also the emotional ones that had marked your journey through this world.

Joel's eyes softened as he caught the playful glint in your smile, and a warmth seemed to spread through the room. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a comforting embrace. The strength in his arms felt like a shield against the harshness of the world outside.

"You can be stubborn as hell, you know that?" he teased, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

As he held you in his arms, the world outside faded away, and all that remained was the warmth of the embrace and the quiet assurance of shared moments.

"Get some rest," he murmured, his voice a soothing whisper. "I'll be right here."

With Joel's arms wrapped around you, the weariness of the day and the weight of the past seemed to dissolve.

In the arms of Joel, the night embraced you, and as you closed your eyes, you found life worth living because of him.

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theemporium · 7 months

Text

Theodore Nott was possessive in a way that people didn’t quite understand.

He wasn’t puffing his chest out whenever another man approached his girlfriend, nor was he threatened by other men attempting to flirt. He didn’t care when people ogled his girl because he knew you were gorgeous and he knew you would be coming home with him at the end of the night. He didn’t care about other people because he had you and that was all that mattered to him.

But sometimes—just sometimes—one teeny, tiny little thing could set off that possessive spark in his chest.

This time it had been the relentless and blatant attempts your potions partner had been making at you.

And truly, on any other day and in any other situation, Theo wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t care because you were his and he knew that, and he knew that you knew it too. But it had been weeks now. Weeks and weeks of countless flirting and smiling and giggling, and the thing that really set him off was your refusal to admit that your potions partner was flirting.

He’s just being nice to me, you had told him with a shake of your head. Not every boy that is nice with me wants to get in my pants, Theo.

But he did know. He knew exactly what the boy was trying to do. He knew because he saw the little looks and smirks your potions partner would send him during the lesson to taunt him, but you were so hellbent on believing the slimy bastard over your own boyfriend that it set him off.

If you wouldn’t tell your potions partner that you belonged to him, then he would just have to do it for you.

You had been sitting on his lap, peacefully reading some book that he had only vaguely been skimming over your shoulder. It was late on a Friday evening, meaning most students had something better to do other than loitering around the common room like you two had been doing.

His fingers had been playing with the hem of your skirt, tugging on the fabric just to watch the way your lips twitched at the movement before he noticed your potions partner coming in through the main hallway entrance.

He tried to ignore him. He really, really did. But then the fucker came over, smiling at you as he greeted you and made a point of sitting just within earshot of you like he was waiting for you to start a conversation, and Theo couldn’t handle it anymore.

“Theo,” you whispered, a little confused when you felt him pushing the fabric of your skirt further up your thighs. “Theo, what are you—”

“Do you like the fact he’s here?” Theo hissed in your ear, his grip firm on your thighs as he pulled your legs apart. “Do you like the attention he gives you?”

You gasped as you tried to clench your legs shut. “Theo, there are people—”

“People or him?” Theo grumbled, nosing your jaw as he hooked your legs over his so he could keep you open. “You don’t want him to see you like this, princess? Don’t want him to see who you fucking belong to?”

Your stomach dipped at his words. “You know I belong to you.”

“But do you know that?” He retorted, his voice tense and gruff and it shouldn’t have turned you on as much as it was. “You think you can run around and flirt and bat your eyes, and I won’t say a word?”

You shook your head, a choked noise of pleasure leaving your lips when his thumb pressed down over your clothed cunt. “I-I don’t—”

“Such an attention whore,” Theo commented, a dark chuckle leaving his lips when you bucked your hips against his hand. “Look at you, fucking desperate for me.”

“Theo, please,” you breathed out, turning your head to nuzzle your face into his neck. “We can go upstairs—”

“No,” he gritted out between clenched teeth. “No, you are gonna sit here like the fucking brat you are and you’re gonna take it all, and you’re gonna let everyone see. Especially that bastard.”

And that was exactly what he was going to do.

He didn’t care the fact you were hiding your face in his neck, or the tears welling up in your lash line. He didn’t care about the fact that there were other people in the common room, or the fact someone could walk in and get a direct few of your soaking cunt. He didn’t give two shits because you were his—his love, his girlfriend, his whore—and he wanted the whole damn castle to know.

“Please, please, please, please,” you cried out, shaking in his hold as your arousal dripped down your thighs, the debauched noises of his fingers pumping into your pussy echoing through the common room. “Theo, I-I can’t—I need you.”

“I know, princess, I know,” he cooed, his tone a little condescending and patronising as he pushed you further and further over the edge. “You need me. You’re my good little slut, aren’t you, love? Just a perfect whore f’me.”

“Just you,” you sobbed pathetically, your back arching against his chest. “Just you, Theo, just you. Promise.”

Theo turned his head to the side, catching a glimpse of your potions partener. His face was bright red, his eyes were looking anywhere but you and he was squirming in his seat as the sounds of your moans echoed through the room.

Theo couldn’t help but let his lips twitch upwards with a smirk.

“That’s right, honey, just for me,” Theo cooed, watching the way you came undone in his arms with your release dripping down his wrist and your thighs. “Now open that pretty mouth, need you to take care of this mess you’ve made, princess.”

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whispereons · 7 months

Text

Oracle!Reader Part 17

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 16, Part 18

PSA: I'm going to go through my followers and report + block porn bots. Porn bots look like users who have nothing posted. So if you don't want to be blocked please put at least one post saying that you are human.

Warning! This has your good old violence! This is a SAGAU imposter au so this to be expected.

The ice in your calves throbbed as spikes of pain fried the nerves every time you shifted into a better position. That's not even counting how the arrow in your chest jostled and wedged deeper into your skin.

"Let's start with some easy questions, yeah? Like your name, date of birth, and occupation."

You wished Yelan would just ask the important questions only. It would make your life so much easier. Who knows what information you could give her here that unknowingly connects to what they know about the 'Creator'.

Yelan's expression turns neutral before she steps closer. Your body tenses in preparation before she grabs your hair to pull your head up. Hissing in pain, you glare at her with animosity.

"Don't overestimate your body, Y/N." She drawl's as if speaking to a child. "I could just remove this pretty little mask and bring you back to Liyue for those with... more experience to handle."

Was it a natural thing for Hydro users to threaten you with torture? The thought makes you wanna laugh but you gasp in pain instead as she releases your hair harshly.

You didn't have time to be a smartass. Your mask being removed was the worst thing that could happen. The only question was, should you admit to being an Oracle or not?

"My name, as you already know, is Y/N. I don't have a last name, or maybe I do and I don't remember it. Same situation with my birthday, I just celebrate it whenever I feel like it."

Genshin always sends you a gift in the mail when it's your birthday. It's a good guess that everyone knows your birthday, having the same birthday would be suspicious. What if it's like your face in which no one else can share the same birthday with you? Far-fetched but better safe than sorry.

"I'm an adventurer who signed up a few days ago. I have my handbook and commission list to prove it if you want to check."

There was a chance she knew about your Oracle job from when you had to stay at the Teahouse, but you won't offer that bit of information unless she specifically asks for it. Far too many of your own victims on Earth screwed themselves over when they revealed things only to learn you were shooting in the dark.

"Quite the convenient story. No last name or set date of birth means you must be from one of the villages. Name it."

Yelan gets comfortable resting against a tree as Shenhe stands close to you with a cold glare. The questions were still easy but you didn't want to be stuck here any longer. You needed an escape.

"I was born in Inazuma, one of the less-tamed islands called Kannzaku. But after the recent war, all the people that were still living either died or left. I chose to leave as well."

Yelan hums at that, you aren't sure if she truly believes it or if she's just making a mental note to look into it later.

"Then how did you manage to catch the Alcor of all ships to bring you here? They aren't one to take passengers along easily."

Has she been watching that early on or did she trace your path that far back? If so, she may even gain information about your time in Inazuma. Best to keep everything aligned with the most public knowledge.

"The Yashiro Commission helped me find a ship. I don't see how my upbringing in Inazuma has to do with whatever reason you have for attacking me."

Flexing your feet, you try to adapt to the pain. Yelan nor Shenhe were going to let you go even if you did answer everything correctly. That was a fact just based on how much trouble you gave them.

Yelan keeps a watchful eye on you as she stays silent. You know this tactic, you've used it before. Staying silent to make your hostage squirm and anger till they burst. That, or slowly die in place from any wounds.

This wasn't a problem for you. Every second you stood there in silence was just more and more time for you to get used to the pain. The arrow was too deep to remove, you would bleed out and become weaker so it'll have to stay stuck inside your skin.

Yelan and you could have gone all day, but Shenhe wasn't nearly as patient or stubborn.

"Ask your question and finish your job already, Yelan. If you take any longer then I'll just exterminate them." Shenhe moves to stand directly in front of you with her weapon raised.

She points it directly at Yelan. "And if you try to stop me, I'll kill you too."

Seems they aren't as in sync as you originally thought.

Yelan sighs and moves from her spot. It seems even she knows better than to trifle with the bomb in the shape of a crane. The grass crunches beneath Yelan's heels as the trinkets on her jingle.

Lifelines wrap around your wrists and waist and she pulls you forward. Nails dig into your skin through her gloves making you bite your tongue in slight pain. The pretty azure color is coated with crimson as emerald eyes stare into your soul.

"What's giving you the confidence to claim to be the Creator's oracle? If you don't repent and shed this flimsy mask, the Qixing will have you sacrificed in the city's center."

Your heart stops at those words as flashes of the sacrifices you witnessed in Inazuma come to mind. Taking off your mask would get you killed, but not taking it off would also get you killed. Torn between laughing and crying, you hated the fact that once again you were stuck in a ‘damned if you do, damned if you don’t’ situation.

Frowning at the strange expression on your face and the lack of confession, Yelan sighs with frustration and even a bit of hatred. “Not willing to speak even now, huh? Then my job is nearly done. Ningguang can deal with you instead, I’ll just reap my share of the rewards after you die.”

Patting your now bloody cheek condescendingly, she turns away from you. Her lips can be seen moving from her side profile but you could care less about what she's saying.

All you can focus on is the feeling of being talked down to. Being treated like a child, being treated like an idiot. The inner lining of your cheek begins to ache from how hard you're biting on it.

Specific personas you've created and used in your work would include ditzy and dumb acts. The patronizing tone they would speak to you with was annoying but tolerable. But this? This?!

Lips curled into a snarl, you look up at the woman with a boiling glare matching your equally hot temper. Yelan's features seem to continuously morph and switch with a man who would speak to you in that exact same demeaning way.

"Where the hell do you get off speaking to me like this?"

Yelan shuts her mouth but doesn't move her snobbish eyes off your form. Shenhe holds her polearm tighter as she keeps her eyes on you. Well aware of just how stupid, rash, and careless your next actions are, your brain tries to calm down.

But the moment you lift your bloody chin to look up, all you can see is condescending eyes taunting you.

"What the fuck is giving YOU the confidence to indirectly call yourself extraordinary by calling your deceased teammates 'ordinary folk'?! You only got to your position from the charity and sacrifices of other people!"

Breathing heavily from the anger and strain from yelling, you wipe the blood on your chin away. You were giving it your all to survive and weasel your way out of this situation. That's what you have done all throughout your time in Teyvat.

It wasn't fair, it wasn't right, it shouldn't be possible that all your efforts would be for naught from just one person. Everything you've worked at all this time, gone, just because Yelan and Ningguang couldn't mind their own fucking business.

"You can inflate your ego all you want with clever schemes and working solo but that doesn't take away from the fact that you would be dead without everyone around you. Your ancestry of heroes, Ningguang's patience and willingness to wait for you to train and move on from your friend. Even the lessons you learned on how you aren't invincible didn't seem to click until you lost your whole team!"

Grinning widely with malice and blood staining your teeth and lips crimson, you finished your jab. "You know? The same team you basically disowned and dissociated yourself from after they died. After all, you’d rather isolate yourself instead of properly acknowledging your team's talent and appreciate the life they lived no matter how short!"

Your mouth felt dry and all you could taste was copper. The shards in your calves were slowly melting making your legs. A vast contrast to the burning anger you harbored. But it seems you aren't the only one feeling this way.

Yelan hasn't moved from her spot but the look she has on her face is clear as day. Her neutral and taunting smile has dissolved into a murderous expression. Viridian eyes sharpen almost like an arrow and gritted teeth grind together. Your blood stains her blue gloves much like how you successfully stained her invincible reputation.

As good as it felt to get back at her, the slightest bit of guilt plagued you. That blow concerning her teammates was low, even if it was true. It's a bitter truth that she probably still struggles with. Living knowing that someone had to be sacrificed for your life pushed you to the brink more than once. Even still, you can't find it in yourself to take back those words, to apologize.

After all, you could never disregard the help and place your dad had in your life even with his early death.

The Hydro vision on Yelan's side glows as she takes long strides to your trapped form. No longer summoning her bow with flair, she points it at you. Bracing yourself with bent knees, you flex your fingers preparing to summon your sickle and escape the disadvantageous position.

"GRAH!"

A huge leaping rocky creature almost flattens Yelan who swiftly dodges by jumping backward.

"GRAW!" What you can now identify as a Geovishap roars loudly and slams his hulking fist onto the ground. The impact sends Yelan flying through the air and the ice trapping your feet shatters.

Not even allowed a second to enjoy your newfound freedom, Shenhe lunges either polearm poised at the ready. Grinning, your sickle clashes with her weapon as you shift to a more comfortable position.

Fighting both women would be impossible for you, they've trained for years. But it was still within your limits to defend and escape from one. Thanks to the Geovishap, you now have been granted that possibility.

The lingering shards of ice in your calves keep the blood somewhat clogged but the blood dribbling out down your ankle is uncomfortable. Ignoring it to the best of your abilities, you dig your shoes into the ground as your sickle repeatedly blocks her attacks.

The spear's minor side curve gets hooked onto your sickle leading to a stand-off. Planting your feet deeper into the ground, you focus on pushing against Shenhe as she does the same. Your arm strains with the force needed as Shenhe's full power begins to overpower you.

Not that you weren't expecting that.

Shenhe fought a god as a child and would have won if Cloud Retainer hadn't cut it short. She grew up in these mountains fighting, training, and eating whatever she was given. Cloud Retainer didn't raise a child, she groomed a soldier.

Your wounds ache as your body is pushed back. Inhuman strength wasn't something you ever encountered on Earth. This wasn't the city where you could pull a dirty trick and get away. Wasn't there anything else you could do?

Perhaps it was the determination you felt to stand your ground. Or maybe it was the desperation you felt to escape and live. You couldn't be completely sure as power mingled with your flesh, giving you a burst of energy.

The air grows cold and the ground shakes beneath your feet. The Electro wrapping around your sickle crackles louder, nearly masking the creaking of the ground. Geo petrifies the ground as it travels from your feet to hers.

A dark umber-colored stone traps her feet with cracks of topaz. Shenhe frowns and tries to rip her feet out but is stunned when it doesn't work. The petrify only moves to consume her body faster.

Knowing that you must be the only reason for the Geo, you take advantage of the newfound power. Breaking the grapple, you move out of her polearms range. Her braids loosen as she tries to lunge at you even with her torso completely petrified.

In some last-ditch effort to kill you, Shenhe holds her polearm in one hand and prepares to throw it at you. Not a moment sooner, the petrify entraps that hand locking it in place.

"Don't run away, demon!" Shenhe shouts in fury as her braid loosens. Her face is permanently etched as a harsh scowl and furrowed brows when the Geo overcomes her completely.

Not wanting to waste the precious and limited time you have, you turn on your heels and run away. In a split decision, you run to the left, the same direction where you first met Shenhe at that hilichurl camp.

Greenery and foliage are trampled on as you push past the burning pain. You pass the threshold of the stone and a large thud catches your attention from behind you.

Curious, you look back to see the Geovishap be pierced by Hydro projectiles. The blood and water splatter and mix on the ground as the Geovishap collapses. A weak gurgle of a roar is all that could be heard.

Glazed eyes holding no consciousness, no life, stare at your wide, sympathetic ones before crumbling into dust. A different pair of wrathful green eyes stare back at you instead.

There's no time to teleport. You couldn't fight in this state. Running was your sole option and your body moved on its own.

The river water dampens your shoes as you run, and the moonlight filters through the leaves of the trees above you. Slimes peer at you curiously as you avoid running into them.

The only thing you could properly focus on was not tripping and not getting hit by the arrows raining down on you.

Between your honed instincts and Teyvat’s warnings, you manage to dodge the vast majority. Yelan wasn't in the position she is today without mastering her archery.

Pain and most likely a bruise bloom when her Hydro-infused arrow hits your shoulder. It's not deep so you quickly pull it out before it gets lodged like the one in your chest.

The chase is intense as your ragged breaths nearly mask the sound of her heels following you. More arrows cut your clothes and graze your skin.

The sight of the red staining the cloth makes bitterness spread and fester deep within you.

Just why couldn't you bleed gold?

Now in Nantianmen, you pass by the hilichurl camp where you met Shenhe in. You must be getting closer to the ruins, maybe you could lose Yelan in the twists and turns of the rundown ruins.

But that plan quickly is thrown out the window when the only exit is a large drop-off, small broken ruins with broken ruin pieces serving as platforms on the large river. Treasure hoarders roam that area from what you remember.

To your right is a large mountain, climbable but no doubt time-consuming. On the left is where the ledge is. The only thing in front of you is a path leading to a boss, that you can’t be certain would recognize you or not. And above it would just be another cliff only serving to prolong the chase.

Faced with the choice, the shallow water washes the crusting blood off your legs. Climb the mountain and be shot down by Yelan, or glide off the edge into Tianqiu Valley and be shot down by Yelan or the treasure hoarders.

Aren’t you spoiled for choice?

That sarcastic thought is quickly swept away as you narrowly avoid an arrow that hits the water. Only sparing a glance behind you, you move to the side avoiding the follow-up arrow. The click of Yelan’s heels is replaced with the sloshing of water as she runs after you.

She dodges the Cryo that a large Cryo slime shoots at her as you back away with urgency. Before you can make a panicked split decision, a new Geovishap tackles her right into the Cryo slime.

The combo of being frozen and shattered seems to knock the wind out of Yelan as she falls onto the ground and slowly rises to her feet. The Cryo slimes, now with the addition of another that popped up out of nowhere and this new Geovishap, form a circle around Yelan.

The circle is tight and her soaked form only hinders her further. The wounds and bruises she sustained from the previous Geovishap are still visible.

You recognize this as an opportunity to escape.

The sound of Yelan’s grunts and groans of pain as she’s thrown around out of sight are washed away as you pull the game screen up. It loads slowly but you aren’t too worried, Yelan is spent after chasing you and fighting so much today.

Once the map is loaded, you quickly swipe to the statue of the seven. Selecting it you press the teleport button and wait. You wait with bated breath and expectant eyes to finally be free of this whole battle. Yet, as the screen stays the same and a whole minute passes by with no response, your heart pounds with fear.

Trying to deny the worst possibility you press the teleport button again. You press it again and again and again with no results. The sounds of the Cryo slimes being splattered onto the ground make you suck in a harsh breath.

In one last desperate attempt, you close the game screen and open it again. Repeating the same actions before with no difference in the result.

It’s refusing to work.

That revelation fills you with a mix of dread and a manic mess of anger combined with sadness. A disbelieving laugh escapes your mouth in a low tone before you sprint towards the closest escape option. There’s no more time to waste, the petrify is going or already has worn off and Yelan won’t be occupied with that Geovishap forever.

Your scratched-up and coarse fingers haphazardly grasp the grooves of the mountain to climb as fast as possible. It’s painful to put your body weight onto your legs but it must be done. That pain is almost completely blinded by the agonizing burn of when the arrow in your chest is pushed further in whenever you accidentally scrape the wall.

The air becomes thinner as you climb to the halfway point, your digits grasp onto the next protruding rock and it’s too late when you realize that it’s too loose. The rock slips out, hitting your face and temporarily blinding you as your other grip becomes weaker.

Dangerously swaying backward, you stop breathing and scramble to hold on to something. When your cut-up fingers finally grasp something more stable, your face hits the rock and it makes the blood from the wounds Yelan’s nails left leave a splotch.

Pain and sharp aches rack your body but you grit your teeth and continue climbing. The mountain seems to almost vibrate and you look down to see Yelan be smashed onto the wall. A thrilling chill of happiness runs down your spine at the sight of Yelan getting pummelled. You can only hope it scars her the way her injuries most likely will scar you.

The struggle is finally over as your fingers dig into the grass at the top and haul yourself over the ledge. Crawling with the last bit of your strength, you lay on your back and breathe in as much of the thin air as you can. Sharp and burning pain electrifies your nerves as you stare up at the night sky.

Just how shitty was your luck to end up like this?

Gingerly touching your head as the world briefly spins, you open the game screen. Maybe, just maybe it will work now that you are away from the battle. Perhaps it didn’t let you teleport in some stupid rule of ‘no teleporting when enemies are nearby’ or ‘you can’t teleport in battle’. You are well aware that Genshin never had that rule but you wanted to hold onto some hope.

Of course, it doesn’t work. Hope at the end of the day is just that. But being away from a life-or-death situation at least brings back some clarity of mind. You select a different teleport waypoint and try to teleport. It doesn’t work, and after trying nearly all of the waypoints you close the screen and groan in frustration.

You close your eyes and just try to breathe, to relax your heart that just won’t stop beating frantically. It becomes suspicious when your blood runs cold and your stomach churns in a familiar feeling of danger. With anxiety-fueled fear, you roll your aching body a few feet away as the wind caresses your skin trying to help you.

Dirt and grime cling onto your clothes and make your open wounds itch as it enters your body. But your attention is pulled away by a polearm piercing the spot you were lying at just a moment ago. Frantic yet oh so tired, you pull yourself onto your sore feet and stare warily as the cloud of dirt dispenses.

As much as you dared to dream that maybe it was Xiao, the long white hair and crane-patterned sleeves aren’t surprising. Disappointing nonetheless though.

Shenhe grips her weapon tightly as she stays in place, the rock she struck in pieces beneath her. You can already imagine what kind of damage she would have done if you didn’t move away in time. She doesn’t lift her head as she mumbles something.

Not willing to move closer but also too cautious to move away in fear of triggering her, you stand in place. Her head lifts up to let iridescent eyes glare at your beat-up and bleeding body. “I hate you.” She mutters as strands of hair droop to frame her face.

“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate-” She mutters endlessly from her position as you begin to take slow steps backward. The red rope tying her hair is already gone and the ones on her clothing are close to slipping. Most of them are ripped and gone anyway.

Shenhe harshly rips the last of the red rope off and gracefully twirls her polearm into the correct position with a look cold enough to freeze your blood. Actually, that’s just the frost creeping from her feet…

“I hate you!” Shenhe’s yell is swift and her weapon is merciless as her attack pattern changes from the elegant crane style to one more comparable to a raging bull. You hurriedly summon your sickle in the nick of time.

Your hands are shaky from the exhaustion weighing down on your body. Combining that with Shenhe’s erratic wrath attacks makes your movements clumsy.

Each narrowly raised block and shaking deflection eat away at the little energy you have left.

It's not enough.

That fact becomes more and more obvious as your grip on the sickle gets weaker. What other fate awaited you when being hunted down by Shenhe who has fought and trained nearly all her life?

The past battles you've been through are viewed in a new light. Your first fight with those treasure hoarders led you to rely more on your wit than skill. The first Fatui encounter with Heizou had you more as a support than an attacker. Beisht wasn’t even attacking you and you struggled against the elements more than anything else on Beidou’s ship. After taking the commission to save Yiran from the kidnappers, you teamed up with Xingqiu and Chongyun for every battle after that.

Even afterward when you were forcibly separated and Cloud Retainer strangled you, it was the other Adepti that pulled her off. The only battles after that were your hit-and-runs with Yelan and Shenhe. Have you ever actually fought and won on your own since that first scuffle with the treasure hoarders? They even ran away after you threatened them without touching them!

The realization of your less-than-stellar fighting capacity makes your movements sloppier, your body feels heavy with the weight of your journey. All the injuries you sustained, even the ones already healed, seem to chip away at your resolve.

You were tired. You’ve been tired for a long time. It would be accurate to say that you were tired of being tired.

Shenhe’s emotions bleed through her fighting style, the wrath she’s consumed by makes her attacks rough but misaligned. Slices that should have cut deep into your shoulder or slashes across your unguarded areas miss their mark. Each one only makes her more aggravated leading to even sloppier motions.

A terrible cycle that was helping you out enough that you use your new Geo power to petrify her feet. But Shenhe has already experienced this, her spear is waved erratically around her keeping you away.

This rare chance of escape isn’t lost on you, turning on your heels you book it and narrowly avoid the polearm thrown your way. The graze makes the already scraped side bleed heavier, and the burning feeling of pain doesn’t subside.

Running across the greenery and leaving a trail of dotted red on the dark grass, you don’t bother trying to recall where you might be. There was never much of a reason to climb all the way up here as a player and you had no time to stop to observe the map.

The rocks, trees, and flowers blur in a shadowy hazy mess. You can’t be sure whether it's from all the blood you lost, the pain that plagues your body or the starless night sky. A single rock jutted out of the rock trips you and the pain blinds you as you lay on the ground.

Stumbling back onto your feet, you hold a nearby branch with a death grip as your body sways and your vision spins. This intense lightheadedness could only be from blood loss, one would think that it’s a shame how easily you can tell blood loss apart from any other injury it might be.

The sound of water splashing catches your attention and you do your best to follow it quickly without any more falls. The toll of the adrenaline that was coursing through your veins is starting to settle and you know full well how nasty it can be. A small lake appears in your vision and you collapse onto your knees once close enough.

A group of Cryo slimes begin to make their way towards you from the middle of the lake, or maybe it was Hydro slimes? The wind is both sweet relief on your clammy skin and a rude reminder of your aching wounds. Crawling to the side where you can only hope that Shenhe won’t find you as easily, you let your bag fall off your shoulders.

The bag has holes but as it’s not a normal bag, nothing has fallen out. To your immense relief, of course, the medkit you pull out is your only hope of surviving just a little longer. The slimes gather around you curiously, even this close the only thing you can be sure of is their blue coloring.

Ignoring them, you apply the disinfectant, ointment, bandages, and anything else that might help you with your numerous injuries. Most of them were bandaged fine with you skipping the minor wounds to not waste your precious resources, but it was the major two damages that you couldn’t touch.

The remainder of the ice spikes in your calves were slowly melting which, unfortunately, was only leading to more bleeding. The arrow in your chest already made breathing hurt like hell. There was no way you were gonna risk yanking either of the two out. With the bleeding slowed down, your body feels a bit better but the fatigue anchors you to your spot.

Surrounded by the slimes and gently showered by the moonlight your head rests against the closest solid structure. Thoughts of what kind of disease, danger, and death you might experience are washed away. The rippling reflection of the moon on the lake lulls your mind into a haze. Eyelids fluttering shut, you can no longer resist the urge to just rest...

Oh boy, finally done and over with. It actually had more but I decided to cut it here and post the rest with the other parts next chapter. It may be shorter than this one. Or not, who knows. Thanks to my patient editor @serpent-benediction who edited this today. I hope everyone enjoyed the differences yet similarities between Y/N and Yelan. I did write this on Google Docs rather than on Tumblr so maybe the format is weird. Tell me if this one is too dense looking or any other opinion on it. Edit* Guess which dumbass forgot to add the read more option? Taglist - Remember those that are in italics are those who I couldn't tag! I appreciate all the comments and reblogs! Ya'll can be so funny and sweet at the same time. @vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @liansh3ng, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @shellofthewell, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zenith, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest, @grimreapersscythe, @leylanx, @sapphireknown, @help-whatdoimakemyusername, @zhonglisfruityass, @mer0n37, @victoria1676, @mochinessss, @sinnful-darling, @emilymikado, @pix-stuff, @esthelily, @luxie963, @emmbny, @millienolife @kbar1013, @xxblackroses623xx, @chxrlxtteee, @aludicpoet, @yandematic, @atrcclovsxoxo, @0lshadyl0, @esthelily, @t-rex-red, @ck123, @steadybreadbluebird, @118gremlin, @stratonia, @time-shardz, @farelady-fate, @valeriele3, @francisnyx, @byakuren100

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sailoryooons · 7 months

Note

hali my love, for your halloween drabbles, i am in NEED of a grumpy vampire boyfriend yoongi who’s mean to everyone but u (it’s my fav trope ever, i’m a basic bitch lmfaoooo) 😭🙏 maybe add some fluff and smut ? do whatever u desire with it babe, just know i love u so so much !! 💌🦋

❀ Pairing: Vampire!Yoongi x f. reader

❀ Summary: Yoongi is none too pleased about the movie that Seokjin has selected for the weekly movie night. You know just how to cheer him up.

❀ Word Count: 2,459

❀ Genre: Supernatural, Establish Relationship, Fluff, Smut,

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Seokjin & Co. are making Yoongi’s life hell in the kitchen, mild teasing/ganging up on Yoongi as the vampire, general chaos, gruff Yoongi, explicit language, explicit sexual content, vaginal fingering, blood drinking and biting, sort of voyeurism because people are in the next room over, Yoongi is a little needy, depictions of blood, brief cum eating, and this is largely unedited besides spell check.

❀ Published: October 14, 2023

❀ A/N: MARI MARI MARI! My love I have been waiting to do this request all week. I am literally so down bad for Yoongi who is a little cranky and yelling at everyone, only to turn to an absolute puddle who just wants to bite his baby’s neck when she walks in and kicks everyone out and yells at them for being mean to him. This was the perfect request ever - I love you so much and thank you thank you thank you! I hope you enjoy our boyfriend.

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment, or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

| Masterlist | Ask | Haliween Requests |

“Can I have some-”

“No,” Yoongi tuts, cracking the top of Seokjin’s knuckles with the wooden spoon in his hand. Seokjin howls and yanks his hand away, skin reddening under the quick assault of Yoongi’s reflexes. “You can have it when it’s ready.”

“I’m the host!”

Yoongi looks around the spacious kitchen where his friends are carrying on. Taehyung is wrestling Jimin over the Bluetooth speaker while Hoseok swings his legs back and forth from where he sits on the counter, delighted as he flips through songs to orchestrate their fight. Jungkook giggles with his phone out, filming the bickering pair while Namjoon stands in the doorway, trying to decide if he wants to break them up or risk walking by them with the two bottles of wine in his hand.

Namjoon risks the wine and regrets it. Taehyung bumps into Namjoon immediately, causing the bottles to slip from his hand and shatter on the ground. Hoseok yells in fright and Yoongi’s hand grips the wooden spoon hard enough that it immediately splinters in his hand.

Seokjin immediately begins yelling and throwing his hand in the air, Taehyung starts accusing Jimin of pushing him into Namjoon on purpose, and Jungkook frantically opens and closes cabinets and drawers to look for towels.

Each sound of the chaos grates against Yoongi’s sensitive hearing. The smell of sweat on their skin, the pumping adrenaline and fright from Hoseok’s momentarily startle. It becomes too much and he feels the instinct to lash out curl up inside of him like a whip.

“Everyone out!” Yoongi hisses, hackles rising.

The sound of his voice cuts through the kitchen, stopping everyone in silence. Six pairs of eyes turn to look at where he stands at the stove, steam hitting his face. His gums ache where his fangs threaten to slip through, a sign of his irritation.

“But I’m the host!” Seokjin protests again.

Yoongi points the now-ruined spoon at him. “You, are doing fuck all as host.”

“You told me you’d cook!”

“I always cook!”

“Well, you’re the best at it! You’ve been doing it for like three hundred years!”

Yoongi hears you before he sees you. Immediately he picks up the shutting of the car door, the additional heartbeat as you walk up the drive. Even from the kitchen with the wine and the smell of his friends and the cooking food, Yoongi can smell your lavender scent from where he stands.

Immediately tension bleeds out of him. You let yourself into the house and find them in the kitchen, calling out for them as you step in and freeze, scanning the room. Your mouth forms an ‘o’ at the chaos and he watches you as your eyes drag to his, taking in the ruined cooking utensil, the wine of the floor, and his twitching lip.

You clap your hands together then. “Everyone out!” you order. “Out, out, out!”

Unlike when Yoongi orders everyone to do something, they all listen to you. Hoseok scrambles off the counter and bolts toward the living room, hot on Jimin and Taehyung’s heels who both give you sheepish laughs. Namjoon rubs the back of his neck awkwardly and spins on his heel to leave, Seokjin and Jungkook on his trail.

Once they’re gone, it’s just you and Yoongi in the kitchen, pasta nearly boiling over. You point to the pot, brows raised. “You focus on that, I’ll clean all this, okay?”

Fuck Yoongi loves you. Something as simple as giving directions and just addressing the mess with a plane soothes his irritated nerves. He nods, not taking his eyes off of you as he continues the meal. Yoongi is good at multi-tasking, and his favorite thing is to watch you even when you’re not looking.

Just being in the same room as you brings him peace. Hundreds of years of existence, and Yoongi has never known balance like this. Has never found someone who steadies his too-loud world, who brings him the silence that he needs.

Until you.

Even though Yoongi can hear the boys being rowdy in the living room, it’s silent in the kitchen. You begin sweeping glass, oh so careful not to cut your fingers, and put Yoongi on edge. He’s not worried - you’ve always taken extra steps to avoid bloodletting around him and unlike Namjoon, you’re good at it.

Yoongi wants you to come over to him. He chews on his lip as he works on sauce for the pasta. His eyes dart to you often, fingers flexing as if to reach out and beckon you over to him. You’ve only been in the house for ten minutes, but he wants to feel your warm skin beneath his fingertips. The heat of you is just a moment away.

When you finish, you come around the counter to greet him properly. His heart skips in his chest - for it does still beat - and Yoongi feels his mouth twitch upward and his edges soften out as you lean up to him, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips.

Your mouth is warm against his, lips soft. He sighs and melts into you, pressing his mouth against yours a little harder. He feels you smile against him before you nibble his bottom lip and pull away, looking up at him. “How’s it going?”

“Hm.”

You snake an arm around his waist and pull your hips flush together. He likes the closeness, the way your skin makes his buzz. His nose fills with the scent of lavender and the undercurrent of your blood, a smell so uniquely you that he could never forget it.

“Can I taste,” you as, pointing to the steaming veggies. Yoongi nods, finding a fork and stabbing a seasoned green bean from the pan. He offers it to you. He watches, hypnotized as your mouth works over it. You hum, brightening. “Ugh, unreal.”

He leans forward and steals a kiss, taking you by surprise. He licks into your mouth, tongue tasting the butter and salt, the sweetest of your lips. When he pulls away, you’re giving him a cursory glance. “Needy, huh?”

He feels himself flush. “Maybe.”

Your fingers squeeze his hips, making his heart flip.

“Why does she get to taste?” Seokjin’s voice shatters the moment. Yoongi looks over your head and bares his fangs, his eyes flashing from black to crimson, muscles rippling. Seokjin squeals and runs out of the kitchen, screaming. “He is hissing at me!”

Slowly, Yoongi’s fangs recede. He feels the feral instinct to tear out Seokjin’s throat recede, and looks down at you, where you watch him with mild amusement, arm still snug around his hips.

“They’re annoying me,” Yoongi says, as if to answer the silent question. “He picked Dracula to watch tonight.”

You arch a brow. “Is that so?” Yoongi pouts. You press a kiss to his shoulder and pat his waist. “Finish up in here and I’ll make sure they’re all set out there.”

Hunger rolls through him, uncontrolled. He feels it swift, a dam breaking. He watches you wipe your hands on your jeans and walk toward the living room, his eyes pinned to the empty door as you vanish. He hears you when you raise your voice, immediately laying into Seokjin.

Yoongi smirks and looks back down as he starts turning off the stove. Listening to you lay into Seokjin for his funny little joke for movie night makes Yoongi preen, lifting his chin a little as Seokjin whines and throws himself on the couch, letting you lash him.

By the time Yoongi is calling everyone to make a plate, Seokjin comes in with his ears red and eyes on the floor. You return to the kitchen, nonplussed and pointing to the back of the line forming to plate food. Seokjin grumbles about him being the host again but listens.

Yoongi leans against the counter, throwing a rag over his shoulder. You make yourself a plate and set it aside before going over to the bottles of wine, pouring two glasses before coming over to him and handing him one. He thanks you quietly taking a sip.

As everyone filters back out into the living room to start the movie. Yoongi pushes off the counter to join them. You catch his wrist, signaling him to stay back. Once alone, you pull him toward you, making him cage you in against the counter.

“Hungry?” you ask, gaze darkening. His stomach flips and he nods, looking down his nose at you. You tilt your neck to the side. “Want?”

He shakes his head. “You should eat and watch the movie first.”

“You’re a little on edge. Maybe a snack first?” Yoongi goes back and forth on it. He feels his gums ache, feels the burn set into his throat. His eyes drift to the soft spot on your neck where your pulse beats, his favorite song. “Come on, baby,” you coo. “Just small bites.”

That voice. That voice. Yoongi feels his knees weaken. He leans further into you and you slide your hands around his waist, pulling him flush against you. His cock twitches and he groans, lids fluttering as you lean your head back, baring your neck for him.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Slowly, Yoongi lowers his face to your throat. He brushes his nose along the slender slope of your neck, inhaling. A shiver ripples through him and he feels the pinch of his fangs slide through. Your pulse quickens and he smells the change in you - feels the way your thighs press together.

He salivates. He can’t help it, his mouth pooling slowly with water as he brushes his open lips against your warm skin in the ghost of a kiss. Your breathing is faint and fluttering, your heart hammering in your chest. You’re not afraid, though. He’d be able to tell.

You’re excited and turned on, your fingers twisting in Yoongi’s shirt as his tongue slips gently between his fangs to taste your skin. You suck in a sharp breath and he whines a little, so in tune with your sounds. Every sound.

So, so carefully, Yoongi scraps his fangs against your skin and presses his tongue against your beating pulse, right where he wants to bite. He gives in, slowly sinking his teeth into tender flesh, his mouth filling with sweet nectar immediately.

The reaction is immediate. His eyes roll back into his head and he grinds against you, seeking friction as his mouth suckles gently, pulling warm fluid into his mouth. You’re lax in his arms, letting the endorphins of the bite wash over you.

Yoongi can smell what it does to you, one of his hands dropping from holding your side to pressing between your legs, rubbing you through your jeans. Your head knocks loudly against the counter, making him open his eyes and look up at you through his lashes, mouth still attached to your throat.

Eyes shut, mouth open, you sag against the counter. He can see every flicker of your eyes behind your lids, drifting in his bite. In him. Yoongi’s tongue presses over the wound, staying there as he swallows his last fill. He’s more interested in the way he works to open your jeans, now, uncaring that they’ve started the movie in the living room.

Yoongi is intimately focused on your reactions as he pulls down your zipper. You press your cunt toward him, asking. Seeking. Wanting. So quickly this has turned into more than small bites, and Yoongi doesn’t care. He’ll give you whatever you want, and he can sense the vibration in you, his predator senses tuned in to your desire.

Your folds are damp as he slides his fingers in, seeking your heat. The fit is tight in your jeans but you lean back for him, pulling them down a little, giving Yoongi access to pull your panties to the side and slide the pads of his fingers up and down your slit.

“Oh,” you sigh, nails digging into his hips. “Please,” you ask. “Please please please, Yoongi.”

He gives in, sliding a finger down the wet, hot seam of you and pressing in. Your walls clutch around him, sucking him in as he moans against your throat. His tongue laps back and forth over the wound on your neck, not drinking more but healing the skin, tasting your sweat.

“Just like that, baby,” you encourage. You roll your hips into his hand, grinding your swollen clit against his palm. He’s fully hard now, cock throbbing as he works his fingers into your cunt, the wet sound muted by the loud moving blaring in the living room. “Fuck. Do you want more?”

Yoongi shakes his head and hides his face between your neck and shoulder, panting as he works you. You squeeze around him wetly, your entire body shaking against him. He can tell your close, the very fibers stitching you together shaking loose as he angles his fingers, pressing against that soft spot inside of you.

He will never get tired of this. The way you walk into his life when he’s having a less-than-ideal day and put everything right again. How you pick up the pieces and put them where they need to be, how you chastise his friends when they want to pick on his vampirism, and how you just give him what he wants but won’t ask for.

So ready to give in to him.

When you come around his fingers, Yoongi makes a needy sound at the back of his throat. He loves the way you squeeze him, the way you go silent and soft. Sagging against the counter. He sucks at your neck - not for blood, but for the intimacy. Just the taste of your skin.

Slowly, you peel apart. Yoongi pulls his hands from your jeans, watching you open your eyes as he grins - perhaps the first real smile all day - and pops them into his mouth. He moans around them, the taste of you sticky on his tongue, making him ripple in pleasure again.

When he retracts his fingers, you surge forward, giving him a single, wet kiss, tasting back.

“Better?” you ask gently, kissing the corner of his mouth. His chin. His nose. He nods his head. “Do you need me to -”

He shakes his head, feeling your hand move toward his cock. “Just need ten.”

“You sure?”

“Mhmm.” He leans forward, licking a soft stripe up your neck. “Thank you.”

“For?”

“Knowing what I need. Being a momentary lapse of peace in a world that is sometimes too loud. For giving me what I need.”

Your grin is blinding. “I love you.”

“You too.” His kiss against your neck is soft and sweet. “And that was much more than just small bites.”

#yoongi smut #suga smut #min yoongi smut #suga bts smut #bts smut #yoongi fic #min yoongi fic #suga fic #bts fic #vampire yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi imagines #yoongi fluff #bts fluff #haliween

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avatarkv · 1 year

Text

II ! Once there was a way to get back homeward, (you're gonna carry that weight for a long time.)

✎ Synopsis ! You've been thrusted to carry the burden of the eldest after his passing. ( First | Second )

Content & warning: Jake sully x Daughter!Reader, Sully kids x Sister!Reader Neytiri x Daughter!Reader. Mentions of death and violence! Purely angst, trust me it does not get better. Neteyam died in the forest (the scene were quaritch first holds everyone hostage)

The tension in the air was palpable, heavy with shame as Jake Sully and his children returned from their failed mission. They dismounted their ikrans stiffly, faces heavy with exhaustion and anticipation. Three of them trailed behind their father, each lost in their own thoughts.

“Sir, we were just trying to help–” Lo’ak tries to discern the suffocating atmosphere, only to be immediately cut off by his father’s grim expression. Jake was a seasoned warrior, but in terms of being a father, he knew he could still learn a thing or two. He felt his heart plummet when the jet plunged to the ground when he realized that both his sons weren’t on their Ikrans– his anger was misguided, but he couldn’t help but reprimand them.

“It doesn’t matter what you meant to do! You’re supposed to be spotters. Spot bogeys and call them in– from a distance! Do you have any idea,” He paused, flexing his jaw painfully tight that you were sure his teeth would shatter from the pressure. Jake was boiling in anger and it threatened to seep through his words, but he knew very well that the frustration was rooted in nothing but fear– the mission ended terribly and the wounds they carried back was enough evidence. “Do you have any idea what could have happened if your sister didn’t call in the incoming airship, huh? We would’ve been blown without notice, Jesus Christ, you could’ve been coming back here missing a limb. What’s wrong with you boy?”

“Sir, it’s my fault. I take full responsibility.” You shot Neteyam a glare, but his head remained hung low.

“Yeah, you do– that’s right. You’re the eldest here and you gotta act like it, you hear me?” He continued to berate him, “You’re not supposed to enable this knucklehead’s carelessness!”

“Dad, please.” You interrupted the heated argument, “Neteyam is actually bleeding.”

Jake’s expression softened slightly, but his tone remained harsh as he gave them nothing but a sharp dismissive nod. “Go patch yourselves up.”

You entered the hut once you knew it was clear of anyone but Neteyam. You approached his unmoving figure that seemed to stare at complete nothingness, fingers ghosting over the scratches of his skin. He hissed when you nudged him, still sore and aching from the wounds his grandmother just tended. “You really ought to shut your mouth when you’re not being spoken to," You said sternly, putting your weight on the table of scattered pastes and medicine. "You know what I mean."

Neteyam looked up at you, his expression already defensive as he knew deep down what was to come again. “I don’t need this right now,”

“You’re not listening.” You abruptly took a step forward, placing your hands on his shoulders, “You can’t keep covering for him! This isn’t about you being brotherly, it’s about him taking responsibility for his actions. You almost got yourself killed.”

“I’m not covering for anyone,” Neteyam replied, his voice tight with irritation. “Lo’ak is just young, __!”

“And you forget that you are a child yourself, Neteyam! The age difference between you and Lo’ak is not even that great of a gap, who are you fooling?” Your voice rose, seething with frustration. “What more could father take if you keep taking the blame off Lo’ak’s shoulders? You aren’t thinking! Do you not want him to trust you anymore? Do you want being olo’eyktan to be taken away from you before father could even step down to rest?”

“And who will be clan leader– you?” Neteyam let out a scornful snicker, his tone eerily calm that you would rather want him to scream at you over and over– but here he was, gaze so unforgiving that in that very moment, you wished you could’ve just swallowed your tongue instead; didn’t pry him over the edge beyond his composure. “You are soft, __. Instead of bones and muscles, you show your flesh naked. You do not bare your teeth enough to show even a glimpse of hostility. You are all but what the clan needs.”

Your eyes widen in hurt, feeling the sharpest of pain you've never felt before spiral in the deepest pits of your stomach, clawing your heart whole. Tears prickled at the corner of your eyes, mouth agape and embarrassed. “You don’t mean that.”

“If I didn’t, I would not have carried this much already,” He stands up, wanting nothing but to puke out the unsettling lump on his throat. “Tsmuke, I see you, but you don’t hear me sometimes.”

“And I wish not to anymore!” You tried to retort in the same ferocious tone, but the way your voice cracked had only made your brother’s expression soften. Hurt simmered inside you, filling in every fibre of your skin. You had always been the closest to Neteyam– he was your ally, your confidant, and you were his too. “Toruk Makto is still just our father and you mean more than a warrior to him; you’re his son and neytiri’s— My brother. To think that you look at me that way, so belittling and unkind, means that you don’t see me at all.”

“Maybe all that training did pay off. I barely recognize you anymore.” You stormed off that night, leaving him and his guilt to eat him away.

You wished you hadn’t left it like that. If you knew that that very argument would be the last conversation you'd have with him, you would have been more softer, more understanding. You would have listened.

Now that he was gone, it was harder to unlearn, harder to digest. Every corner lurked his very shadow, still committing to his duties, still looking out for his family; his bloodied bow next to yours, the crafted hand-me-down trinkets, his hammock– it burned brightly, almost out of spite.

You wished to tell him that he was the best brother– that he was enough, that he never had to prove himself. You wanted more time. As you sat there, lost in thought, memories of your brother flooded your mind. You remembered the way he would always protect you, how he was always there for you no matter what. Perhaps you took him for granted, never truly realizing how lonely it was without his presence to fill in the spaces– he would probably be near Tuk, calming her down, or crouching beside Lo’ak and humoring the heavy atmosphere away. He would be with Kiri, supporting her newfound medicines, telling her how it was better than Mo’at’s even.

But he wasn’t here and right now, the place was a ghost town.

You felt your entire world crumble before your eyes as he turned limp in your hold. Every inch of skin felt eerily cold in contrast to the warmness seeping out of his form and down the grassy soil– eyes held nothing but a dull ache and the sky raged with its storm. You were surrounded by your kin not long after, but you’ve never felt more alone when his chest rose no more. Your words have only been out of anger and in that very second, you wanted nothing more than to swallow everything said. The last thing you’ve told him was of hatred and the next was mournful; that must be the most heart-wrenching ache the great mother could ever bestow. You couldn’t even muster an apology, there was no time for that.

You could barely process your parents' arguments, still sitting idly at the corner while your siblings eavesdropped. You couldn’t be bothered. Their voices slurred together, leaving only bits of coherent pieces– leave home. Those words echoed in your mind loudly; you were to leave, do something. Kiri paced back and forth, her hands wringing nervously.

Finally unable to bear it any longer, Kiri moved towards your unmoving figure and nudged it awake, “Sister please, do something.” She said, her voice shaking slightly. “Please, you have to interject– change father’s mind!” Only now did you focus your sight, gaze shifting to your sibling’s scared faces. What the hell were you doing? You were the eldest now, and while that label left a rancid taste on your tongue, you had to act immediately– You had to be like Neteyam.

You stood up, legs wobbling a bit, and made your way over to where your parents were arguing. You knew better than to interrupt, but hearing the argument unfold had put a weight on everyone. “You’re not thinking of actually leaving home, right?”

The room fell silent, their narrowed eyes slightly softening. “Stay out of this, __.” Frustration already boiled over, Jake could not handle his daughter interjecting right now.

“This is our home– Neteyam’s! And the crown you are to bestow upon Tarsem is his to inherit,” You retorted, tone challenging. Neteyam had trained all his life for that, only to be taken away by a single bullet. It wasn’t fair.

“Quaritch has Spider and that kid knows everything. He knows our whole operation, he can lead them right in here.” His voice cracked upon hearing his son’s name. Jake could only palm his face; couldn’t bear to see his daughter nor his mate. How does he recover from the loss of his own blood? He could never, he thinks– no, he knows. His eldest was gone and no compensation could ever soothe the ache of burying their own child.

The moment he had presented Neteyam to the clan, lifting him high for everyone to see, the feeling was indescribable; how he had held him in his arms for the first time, and how he had promised to always be there for him, to protect him at all costs. He had grown to be so full of life, so full of promise. Absolutely eager to grow in his father’s shoes– He was his first son! And Jake never once thought that he’d be the first to go too; never once thought of cutting his son’s songcord so early.

“Your brother, he,” A pause, “He’s already gone, __. How many more would you risk before you say enough is enough? Kiri? Lo’ak? heck– even Tuk?”

There and then, you knew you couldn’t change his mind. The decision was final and you’ve failed everyone again.

You weren’t at the ceremony– couldn’t bear to see Tarsem being crowned olo’eyktan. It was gone, all of it. What Neteyam worked so hard for, trained endlessly all his life, gone before he could even get a sense of recognition; an I see you, or a job well done from his father. It was gone, all of it. Your family thought you were just staying behind, waiting until it was over– but you stood in front of the hometree, queue in your hand.

“I need to hear you one last time, Neteyam. Tell me what to do, tell me,” You whispered under your breath, “Tell me how to be like you. I am so lost, brother.” Without him, there were no footsteps to follow nor any hand to guide you towards a slippery path. It was just you now, confused and so lost.

The closer you got to the tree, the more you felt the weight of your brother’s absence. Your eyes stung with tears as you kneeled in front of it, fingers tightly grasping the bark. As you shut your eyes, your mind was painted however of different scenarios. What if Eywa only replays that night? To reprimand you– to remind you that you are to blame? You fear that you’d be only greeted with an anguish so ugly.

You feared he wouldn’t want to actually talk to you.

The horns blasted in the distance and you knew you had to return. The glint of hope that flickered in your chest had been blown out in an instant– all the apologies melting on the tip of your tongue. With a heavy heart, you ran away, never to return.

You would never see your brother again and there was no coping from that.

☆ mauve here! i'm taking my final exam tomorrow so yipee. BEFORE ANYTHING ELSE, i want to dedicate this entire series to @eywas-heir! she's literally heaven sent yall;(( improved the plot of this series TREMENDOUSLY (my supplier of angst) thank you bubba ilysb

Tags: @aonungsmate ♡ @cappsikle ♡ @minkyungseokie ♡ @wwwellacom

#mauve writes ☆#know its for the better #jake sully x daughter!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #neteyam x sister!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader #tuk x sister!reader #family angst #angst #avatar #avatar the way of water #sully family x sister!reader

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her-favorite · 1 year

Text

COLLEAGUES

Luke Cooper x F!Reader

Summary: You and Luke always tried to convince yourselves that you hated each other, but once you both come to your senses.. things heat up..

Warnings: SMUT!!

a/n: the office is and has been one of my fav shows so I'm really happy to be able to write about it 🤭, i made luke really sweet to the reader bc I can

wc: 3938

"You think they did it?" Meredith took another bite of her sandwich, looking over at you and Luke by the shelves in the annex. Everyone sat in the break room, eating their lunch.

Angela scoffed at the question, rolling her eyes and picking at her salad. There were many hums across the room.

"Totally! Do you see the way he looks at her butt?"

"Kevin!" They all groan, looking away from the man. He threw his hands up, ready to defend himself.

"They totally have. I mean, have you seen the way they look at each other?" Phyllis ignores the man next to her, looking back at you two.

"The way who looks at who?" Michael walks in, putting his hands in his pockets. He had a smile on his face, ready to hear the drama.

"No one!" Pam quickly declines, shaking her head and looking back down at her food. She always knew that you had to stop Michael before he could start.

"If one of you doesn't tell me, I will start screaming." He threatens, giving a look to everyone.

"Y/N and Luke." Phyllis answers fast, not wanting to deal with her managers ridiculous antics. All of the employees sighed once they saw Michael's face light up. "Michael please don't.."

"I hired them! Matchmaker!" He points his thumbs to himself, smiling wide and looking at the camera.

"Michael, they're not together. It's just gossip." Pam tries to explain, looking at her husband to try and back her up.

"Yeah, it's just talk." Jim agrees, nodding his head.

Michael turns his head around, looking at the two together. They stood close together, the personal space rule being broken. You both were looking through files, occasionally talking or mumbling something none of the others could hear.

"Look at them, though! They're in kissing distance!" He pointed at them, many of the others hissing at him to put his finger away because of how obvious it was. He quickly shushed them, rolling his eyes.

"Michael, just please don't make this a big deal."

"Hey, Y/N." You jumped slightly as you heard your bosses voice beside your ear. You looked to your right, Michael Scott's face staring back at you.

"Yes, Michael?" You sighed, leaning back in your chair. Your desk was out in the main area, but near the back. There had been an extra desk by Creed (despite the crazy amount of protest by you and the others) and Michael decided that it was fine for you since no one was there. Thankfully, Creed was always too busy by writing down his thoughts on Google Docs and eating mung beans to pay enough attention to you.

"So," He dragged out the vowel, moving up to lean against your desk. He looked at the camera, his lips puckered then back at you. You took a quick glance at the camera lens as well, confused about what this whole situation was about.

"You and Luke, huh?" He smirked, nudging his shoulder forward into the air. You furrowed your eyebrows, crossing your arms against your chest.

"What about me and Luke?" You ask, genuinely confused on what he was questioning. He sighed, sitting up slightly.

"You know.." He looked at the wall, trying to think of the right words. "You two are together." He said, more as a statement than a question.

"What?" You laughed. "No. No, definitely not." You shook your head, chuckles escaping your lips. You sat up, leaning forward on your elbows that rested on your arm chairs.

"Wha.. What?" He freezes, staring at you.

"Did you think that we were.. a thing?" Your face showed your honesty, your eyes wandering around the rest of the room. The others that worked in the room were watching your conversation, only some looking away when you made eye contact with them. "You guys thought that I would date him?" You get up from your chair, looking around.

"I mean.. we see the way you guys look at each other." Phyllis defends, playing with her pen. "That's how Bob and I looked at each other before we were together." She smiled, looking at Stanley who rolled his eyes.

"What? We hate each other. Don't you see how annoying he is? He can't even do his job!" Your arms were accentuating your disbelief.

"Hey! That's my nephew!" Michael pointed at you, but stood back a little when he mumbled, "Yeah.. I guess you're right. But, hey!" His voice lowered again.

"She is right, Michael. Luke hasn't done anything we've asked of him." Dwight gets up and walks behind him. "Every time we ask him to send something to a client or the post office, he says he'll do it later and we end up finding it in the trunk of his car. Which is way too slow, by the way." He looks at the camera, his hands on his hips. "You want a fast car if you're going to try and catch an animal. The tactic is.."

"Dwight. Dwight!" Michael waves him off, watching you walk off into the kitchen. "Great job, Dwight!"

"You were the one that interrogated her!" He exclaims, throwing his hands up to his sides.

"Why don't we just leave it alone? Let them just work?" Jim suggests, leaning back in his chair and pointing at them with the pen that was in his hand.

Michael scoffed and Dwight made the same sound right after his boss did.

"Yeah, right, Jim. Let two assistants live their own lives and do their own work." He put his hands on his hips and made a face at the camera.

"Yes, do that." Jim mumbled to the camera, shaking his head and looking back at the paper on his desk.

"Hey, Y/N/N." Luke walked into the kitchen through the annex door, smirking at you.

"Don't call me that." You reply sharply, pouring your water into the white mug on the counter.

It was true that you hated Luke Cooper.. at least that was what you told yourself. You weren't as new as him, having been here for around a year. You've gotten used to Michael's antics and the crazy stuff that goes down at the office, but you weren't expecting a new addition any time soon. Especially when you found out it was your bosses nephew.

You should've known that he was going to be trouble.

"Why not, Y/N/N?" He came up beside you, resting his frame against the counter that you were facing towards. His irritating smirk overtook your mind, aggravating you even more.

"What do you want, Luke? Don't you have a job to do?" You gave him a look and walked around him to put the pitcher away and back into the fridge. Before you could make your way back, you stood in front if Luke who took your mug in his hands.

"Nope. But thanks for the drink, babe!" He smiles at you and sends you a wink, taking a sip of your water and walking back into the annex.

You stood still for a moment, before letting out an annoyed groan and running your hands through your hair. You walked fast towards the door that lead outside, your pace showing your irritation.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Pam called out, but you were already out the door.

Dwight looked towards the camera, "Lovers quarrel."

"Luke? Wha.. Why do people keep asking me about him?" You ask the camera crew, standing outside. The sun was shining right in tour eyes, your hand trying to cover the brightness. You sigh, looking around to make sure no one was around to talk to the camera.

"He gets on my last nerve. He was hired just because Michael wanted to see his nephew for the first time in 15 years. We didn't need another person." You shook your head. "I was doing all the work before, but now that there's two of us, both of us should be splitting it up; I shouldn't being doing the work for two people." You held up your fingers, thrusting them towards the camera lens, making sure they knew how mad you were.

"Y/N? She's fine, I guess." Luke sat at his chair in the annex, leaning back and letting his hands link together lazily in front of him.

"She says that you purposely annoy her."

Luke laughs, throwing his head back. "Of course she says that. She also says she hates me, but we all know that's not true. She only says that because I don't do any work. And get the coffee orders wrong... And steal a lot of her stuff." He pauses for a moment before shrugging his shoulders.

"But, I mean, yeah, she's fine, I guess."

You let out a heavy exhale as you sat at the little table in the kitchen, picking at your food. You had a book to your right, but it was long forgotten once you started to zone out.

"Hey, Y/N!" You look up once you hear Pams cheery voice. You smile at her, watching her pour some coffee for herself.

"Hey, Pam." You end up shutting the book completely as she walks over and sits near you. "What's up?" You pick up a grape with your fork and eat it.

"Uh, I wanted to apologize for everyone in the office. I know everyone's been acting weird around you and Luke, it's ridiculous." She starts to explain.

"It is! I don't understand what's going on? Why does everyone think we're together?" You ask on rapid fire, desperately trying to figure out what was happening around the office. Your eyes showed your confusion, Pam could see and sense it.

"You know how much this office loves drama," she sends a look your way, you nodding in agreement. "And I'm sorry you had to be the main subject of it. If it makes you feel any better, Jim and I totally believe you, so you have two of us on your side." She consoles, sending a soft smile your way. Your mood brightens a little, sending one back.

As soon as you opened your mouth to thank her, the door squeaked open again. "Oh, hey!" Michaels voice echoed off the walls of the small room. The both of you sighed, deciding to look away from the man and down at the table or at each other. "Girls talk! What're we talking about?" He quickly walks over and sits across from you with a wide smile on his face. The camera followed right after him (without the knowledge of you, it was recording the whole other conversation with Pam as well).

"Michael.." Pam started, but he cut her off.

"Come on, tell me!" He put his hands down on the table. "Oh, I know." He sends a smirk to the camera then at you. "This is about you and my nephew!" You sigh at his words, debating your next move. "Okay, listen, since you are dating a Scott relative, I need to give you the run down, young lady." He tries to sound series, but ends up laughing and glancing at the camera again. "You are definitely Luke's type. I mean, I can only imagine the sex-"

"Michael." Pam cuts him off, watching you walk away and out of the room.

"What? I didn't say anything?" He defends himself, now watching Pam walk out as well.

"Guess they aren't getting any."

"Luke, can I talk to you?" Michael asks, putting his hands on his hips. Luke was standing by your desk, clearly bothering you. You had a certain look on your face, showing your indignation.

He looks over at his uncle, taking a quick glance at you before getting up and grudgingly walking towards him. Michael leaned out of the way and his open palm pointing towards his office. Luke gives him a glare, but walks in and lazily takes a seat in the chair across from the desk.

"So, my dear nephew," Michael sits down in his chair, fixing his tie so it didn't sit on his desk. He folds his arms on the dark wood. He stares at him for a while with a smile on his face, taking quick looks at the camera.

"What?" Luke snaps, his patience running thin. If he was being honest, he would rather be annoying you by your desk then be talking to his uncle.

"So.. I heard from the grapevine that you and little ol' Y/N were together." He says, tapping his fingers on the desk.

"What? We're not together. Who told you that?" He shook his head, sitting up slightly. He did hear about all the talk around the office, but he pretended he didn't. He wasn't really sure how to react to it. He never thought of you in a way more than a frenemy. He always knew you were beautiful as soon as he walked through the office door, but he never told you that. He didn't really think much of his feelings towards you, any time he saw you he knew that he had to bother you some way. Maybe it was just his instinct, but maybe it was because it was his only way of trying to talk to you.

"I, well, uh.." Michael smacked his lips, looking off into the distance, grimacing. He rested his hand on his lips, trying to think of something.

"I am a master at improv. I've took it for years, I know what I'm doing." Michael sassed at the camera."

"Well.. Luke! Wait!" He stood up from his chair as he watched his nephew walk out of the room. Ever the drama queen, Luke ran into the annex, going straight for the break room. He groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. He say down at one of the empty chairs, putting his head in his hands.

Did he have feelings for you? The more he thought about it the more scared he got. He annoyed you because he never truly knew how to talk to you. He didn't have a problem giving people attitude, everyone knew that. But something about you made him nervous. There was no way you could like him back now.

"You okay?" His head shot up from his hands, looking at you. You stood there, leaning against the doorframe. Your question was genuine, something that surprised Luke.

"Uh, yeah. Just a little.. confused?" He tried to explain, but couldn't find the right words. He watched you walk over to him, pulling out the chair across from him and sitting down. The camera outside of the room zoomed in and out from both of you.

You let out a long sigh. "I know that we never really got off on the wrong foot. I guess I was just upset that Michael thought that I wasn't very good at my job since he had to hire another assistant to do the same job as me." You rung your hands together, a nervous habit Luke seemed to pick up on. "If I'm being honest.. I'm sorry that I treated you like that. I never meant to be rude to you, especially with the fact you're my bosses nephew." You both let out a light chuckle. You took another deep breath, "But I never really thought of you in another way than the man that was hired by his uncle." You admitted. "I never meant to cause you any harm, truly. But I never had such strong feelings for someone before." You confessed, looking at your hands, avoiding his stare. "I always tried to convince myself that I hated you, but it was never really true. At least not until now. I know you can be a pain in the ass since you never do your job," You both laugh again, making eyes contact. "But if I don't tell you now, then I probably never will." You go to leave, but you felt his hand on yours, stopping you.

Luke looked at your eyes, noticing all of the emotions in them. "I never considered it until now. I mean, I knew you were pretty, but the thought of us never crossed my mind before today. And I've realized how happy it makes me. And I know I'm an asshole and I'm mean, but I never meant to hurt you if I did. If I'm being honest with you, you mean more to me than any of these asshats in this office." You let out a chuckle, squeezing his hand.

"Can I do something stupid?"

"Depends what you mean."

Luke leaned across the table, cupping your cheek with his hand. He hesitated for a moment, before pressing his lips against yours. You didn't waste a second to kiss back, your hand reaching back to cup the back of his head and tug at his curls.

Once you break away for air, you're both smiling. It was almost as if you were knew what you wanted as you both got up from your seats and connecting your lips again. He took your hips in his hands leading you out of the room and pushing you into an empty closet. He slammed the door behind you, never taking his lips off of yours. His tongue swiped over your bottom lip, your mouth immediately granting him access.

"You're so beautiful." Luke whispered against your lips, making you smile. He pressed his lips against yours again, fumbling for the hem of your shirt. You broke apart and lifted your arms up to help him take it off. He threw it on the floor, leaning down to kiss your neck. His hair tickled you, but his cold hands on your body made you shiver. His hand cupped your bra covered breast, kneading the skin. You quietly moaned, arching your back in his hand. He sucked on the skin, biting and licking at it to leave a deep mark.

"Luke," You breathe out, your hands trying to work on his belt and the buttons on his shirt. He undid his tie, his lips hovering over yours. You helped him throw his shirt on the floor, both of your lips only ever breaking apart to take in an inhale of air.

It wasn't exactly necessary to rid both of yourself of your clothing, but you both needed it. Neither of you could deny it.

You helped him out of his pants and vice versa. His fingers grazed over your panties, stimulating your clit through the damp fabric. He pulled them down, bringing his fingers back and groaning. "You're so fucking wet." His voice sounded deeper in your ear, making you shiver. Your hands braced yourself on his shoulders, occasionally digging your nails into his soft skin.

He pushed a finger inside you, your head leaning against the wall behind you and your mouth opening in pleasure. He added another finger, curling them and letting out a strangled breath every time you moaned.

When he pulled away, you sounded in protest, but quickly shut your mouth when you felt his tip against you, scared to be too loud.

Once he pushed inside, you both groaned, your nails carving crescent moons into his shoulders. His beautiful brown eyes pierced into yours, your left hand moving up to brush into the nape of his hair. He leaned down to kiss you, quickly adding his tongue. His groan was muffled by your lips when you tugged at his curls.

His hand reached down to grab your thigh and hooking it around his hip. It have him a better angle, thrusting harder inside you, pace becoming faster as you both felt knots form in your stomachs.

"God, Y/N. You feel so- fuck- good." He whimpered against your lips, both of your chests heaving together. You felt his hand move up your body, squeezing your boob. His thumb and forefinger twisted your nipple, your mouth opening in a silent plea. Your body erupts in chills when his cold hand moved down your body again to press against your clit.

"Fuck- Luke!" You moan, your mouth not being able to stop your sounds. He groaned again, your name rolling off his tongue. His nails scratched into the skin on your thigh, knowing it would leave marks. "I'm gonna cum." You almost want to scream it, your back arching, basking in the amount of pleasure you were feeling.

"Me too. Cum for me Y/N." His thumb pressed harder on your clit, rubbing rougher circles. You clenched, the knot inside you breaking. You came with a shout, your hand immediately reaching up to cup your mouth to silence it.

Luke came shortly after with another groan of your name, his face hiding in your neck. His nose rubbed against the newly formed hickey on your skin. You both breathed heavily, your chests touching while you tried to catch your breath.

"I really like you, Luke." You whisper, the hand that was still in his hair was twisting his curls with your fingers. "I don't want this to be a passing thing." You confess, looking at the closet wall.

You felt him move, looking up at him. He had a smile on his face, leaning down to kiss you. "I really like you too. I'd also really like it if you would let me take you out on a date." He mumbled, his thumbs rubbing your cheekbones. You both smiled wide, your kiss telling him you accepted.

Once you both were done, you put your clothes back on and you tried to fix your hair with the help of Luke's compliments. Luke didn't even try to hide anything, his already wrinkly shirt even worse than usual, as well as his unbrushed hair.

He opened the door, letting you walk out in front of him. He closed the door behind him, smacking your ass, then walking away with a smirk. He sent you a wink, opening the door to the kitchen, knowing you'd have to follow him out to your desk either way.

Your face felt hot as you followed his steps, watching him pour a drink in his mug. He leaned his back against the counter, one hand resting on the hard surface. He watched you from behind the mug, noticing the way you freeze when you look out the window of the door that leads out into the main office.

Everyone stood outside of the door, looking into the small room. Kevin and Meredith had a smirk on his face, Angela the opposite, others with suggestive expressions.

"Good luck out there, babe." He teased, slapping your ass again, which you quickly glared at him for. He sent another wink your way, before going back into the annex to sit at his desk.

You looked back at the door, taking a deep breath trying to compose yourself. You knew that you were about to be bombarded with questions and statements.

You took quick steps towards it, twisting the doorknob, attempting to move the door open, the others moving out of the way. You headed straight for your desk, taking a seat and picking up your pen and looking between your computer and the papers.

"I called it!"

#evan peters imagine #evan peters #evan peters x you #evan peters x y/n #luke cooper #luke cooper x reader #luke cooper smut #evan peters x reader #tate langdon x you #kit walker x reader #james patrick march x reader #tate langdon x reader #evan peters fluff

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faeriekit · 21 days

Text

Out on a Limb

phic phight prompt is from @bibliophilea

warnings for: lighthearted body horror, limb loss, limb...uh...movin' around

*~💚💚💚~*

When Danny said he could lend a hand, he didn't quite mean like this.

“UH,” said Tucker.

“UH,” said Danny.

Both of them watched his disembodied hand flop around on the shop class floor. It was kind of like watching a dead fish die, but…worse. Since. You know. It was Danny’s hand.

“I’m telling Mr. Richards,” Tucker declared, voice high and loud—and it took two tries to cover Tucker’s mouth his hand, because Danny had automatically reached out with his right but that was on the floor, and—look! It was fine! It was fine and no one needed to know!

“Tucker you can’t tell anyone,” Danny hissed, immediately, unable to draw Tucker closer to threaten him and silence him simultaneously so Danny might have been a little more under stress than usual. “Tucker, my hand’s not bleeding. Just…just put it back on!”

“What do you mean, put it back on?!” Tucker hissed, looking like he was about to cry. Danny felt so bad but also that was his hand! “Danny, what do you mean?!”

“It’ll work!” Danny lied as quietly as he could, casting wary glances around the shop. So far no one was looking at them, even though their table saw had gone quiet. Everyone else was carefully cutting wooden planks, as oblivious as they could be in their giant orange earmuffs. And, so maybe Danny wasn’t sure if this would work! But! They had to try! “Just stick it on!”

“You want me to touch your decapitated hand?!”

“Is there a problem, gentlemen?” a voice asked from behind their assigned shop station.

Tucker and Danny froze.

Mr. Richards, an old man who taught shop class and wore exclusively plaid flannel, raised a grey eyebrow.

“…No,” Danny and Tucker lied simultaneously, if perhaps a little offbeat from each other. Danny quickly hid his remarkably raw stump behind his back.

The other eyebrow rose. “In that case, shall we get back to the task at hand? Those planks won’t size themselves, you know.”

Danny and Tucker mumbled something suitably contrite. Tucker wasn’t able to tear his too-wide eyes away from the flopping, writhing, finger-curling hand on the dirty shop floor—

And Danny ‘casually’ dropped a flat shop pencil onto the floor, giving Tucker the excuse to go get the thing. Tucker ducked down without a word.

Mr. Richards crossed his arms. Clicked his tongue. “I thought you of all kids would know to be careful in a workroom, Fenton. It’ll pay to be more careful; you never know if a machine will take something off while you’re not paying attention.”

“Yessir,” Danny squeaked, and shoved down the terrified laughter clawing away at his insides. It was only hysteria.

Something cold and wet slapped itself onto Danny’s stump. Danny flinched.

“Do you have your planks ready?”

Danny swallowed. Tucker stood, looking only slightly more traumatized than he had been when the hand first decided to make its grand departure from the rest of Danny’s body. “…Uh huh.”

“Good. Load them up onto the table for me, then. Show me your guide lines.”

Danny lifted and laid the planks with a shaking hand. Mr. Richards’ expression indicated how little he thought of that.

“Both hands.”

…Danny lifted a hand onto the board.

Mr. Richards stared. Tucker chewed on his lip.

…Danny lifted a second, twitching hand onto the board—hey, his hand?? Was back on?? Thank God for Tucker Foley.

But his hand was definitely not okay; even with the machine on, Danny had to jerk his writhing hand away from the serrated blade more than once. It looked, uh, bad. His hand looked bad. Grey. Taut. Kind of like it was seizing, or, you know…dying of blood loss.

“Fenton…” His shop teacher stared. “...Go to the nurse’s office.”

Tucker grinned with all his teeth, and grabbed Danny’s good hand before Danny could say anything in one way or another. “Great! I’ll walk him. Come on, Danny—if you’re not feeling well, we should go!”

Any excuse was a good excuse. “Yeah, oops. Sorry.” Danny didn’t stop making excuses for himself just in case, even as Tucker veritably shoved him through the shop class door. “Didn’t even notice I was getting muscle spasms; I should probably go get medication for it—“

Neither of them stopped moving until the door was slammed shut behind them.

Danny stared down at his writhing, if…properly attached hand. He tried to stretch his fingers.

The only wriggled worse. It felt like trying to attack worms his hands…only. You know. His worms were the hands. Or. Uh. His hands were the worms.

…Danny needed some water and 600 mg. ibuprofen. Stat.

“I,” Tucker started. And then he stopped. “I am never trusting your intangibility ever again.”

Danny stared at his self-possessed, wriggling hand. “Yeah, probably,” he agreed faintly.

#danny phantom #phic phight 2024 #phic phight #tucker foley #danny fenton #tw body horror #tw dismemberment #'I'm not a doctor but wtf'- Tucker #faer fic

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theminecraftbee · 10 months

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Doc wakes up slowly. He's had a lovely night of sleep, cozy in bed, dreaming of fantastical misuses of withers. Hotguy gave him an autograph and personally thanked him for finally blowing up Scarland's sound system and getting one over on anyone who might make a button. For some reason, Scar's alien from season six was also there, and then it exploded. That was pretty great too. And everyone had clapped for him, and told him he was the best, most important creeper in the world, and that all of his enemies were just haters, and that they would absolutely listen to all of his opinions, which were perfect, always. And they covered the Hermitcraft server in fresh, ripened tomatoes, and everyone helped him garden them.

It really was a lovely dream. He didn't particularly want to wake up, except perhaps to tell everyone about all of the aforementioned perfect opinions. But alas, even after a perfect, lovely, cozy night of sleep, mad doctors must wake up--

--and scream, as a menacing figure holding a knife looms over his bed. He throws a punch at whoever the person is before thinking and hisses, overestimating his strength and knocking them over. He scrambles for his light.

"Owww," says someone from the floor. Wait.

Doc peers over the edge of his bed. "Grian? What on earth are you doing, man?"

"Almost falling on my knife. You know, this is harder than I thought it would be," Grian says. He is holding his knife in one hand and cradling his now very crooked, bleeding nose with the other. Doc would feel bad, but... ehhh, it's Grian. Who had been standing over his bed with a knife. He probably deserved it for... something or other, Doc'll figure it out.

"You need help?" Doc asks.

"Right. No. Let's get back to this," Grian says, standing up and brandishing the knife again. The effect is much less frightening now that the lights are on, there's blood dripping down the front of Grian's sweater, and it's clear Grian is a bit uncertain of how to look intimidating. "I need you to know Mumbo only has one best friend."

Doc blinks.

"...okay, man?" Doc says.

"What?" Grian says.

"Yeah, like, I don't know what you're talking about. Mumbo and I sometimes talk about redstone, but--"

"You talk about redstone? How dare you! Mumbo is mine, you hear? Mine!"

Doc blinks again, slower. He considers pinching himself. This would be an odd addition to an otherwise lovely, perfect dream, but dreams can become weird nightmares pretty quickly, you know? That would explain why Grian's doing whatever this is.

"I mean, I don't know, he normally comes to me about it?" Doc says.

"Cheater..." Grian says.

"What?" Doc says.

"I can't believe you two! Guh! That was my offended noise!" Grian says.

"Look, uh, I don't really understand what you're doing here man--"

"I'm warning you off of Mumbo! I heard around the block you're his best friend now, so I'm going to kill you now unless you stop that."

Doc squints. "With the knife?" he asks.

"Yes, with the knife!"

"And why am I his best friend?" Doc asks.

"You got the crown! Mumbo said whoever got the purple crown would be his best friend! That's not allowed, only I'm allowed to be his best friend! So I'm, I'm being all threatening! And stuff! Please tell me I'm being threatening," Grian says. "It's been a while since I had to do something like this, I'm modeling off of a different guy I knew, but you know, it's very important to me that you're warned off properly! So there!"

Doc looks at Grian for a while.

"Yeah, uh, man, sure. I'm... really threatened," he says.

"Really?" Grian says.

"Yeah. Really. Very threatened. Hey, uh, my elevator buttons are Grian-proof, supposedly, but I don't know if--"

"Are you--are you trying to distract me by offering me buttons? I'll have you know that doesn't work anymore! Not when it comes to Mumbo!" Grian says. "Although. Hypothetically. If you were telling me there were buttons I could press that you think wouldn't have consequences no matter what I did. That sounds like a challenge."

"Yeah, man, I mean, uh. No. Don't press my buttons--"

"Gotta go bye," Grian says, very quickly, and he shoots out of Doc's bedroom. Doc stares after him through the door.

"I'm going back to fucking bed," Doc says, because frankly, this has convinced him he doesn't need to be awake. And also a security system. A security system that can roast pesky birds. He's sure he can come up with something. Mm. Roast bird. He falls back asleep, vaguely convinced he'd dreamed up the whole incident.

(In the morning, he finds a very grumpy Grian stuck in his elevator. Well. He supposes having to fix it is worth the expression on Grian's face there.)

#hermitcraft #docm77 #grian #a bee fic #okay look just saying grian is NOT gonna be normal about this one folks

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thebluester2020 · 15 days

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Stardew Bachelors x Rude!Farmer Reader Headcanons

Summary: A new farmer has moved into Stardew Valley and...wait, how come they're always seen with a scowl on their face?! And why are they so mean?!

Warning(s): Fluff, Mean! Farmer, Doesn't contain all the bachelors! (I've only included Elliot and Sebastian since I didn't want things to become too long!), Farmer is low-key more of a tsundere to be honest, Slight favoritism to Sebastion at the end, !not proofread!

Note: As much as I love sweet-hearted farmers. I also love my mean, tsundere-esque farmers as well <3

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Elliot

:: Elliot had heard about the rumors a week before you arrived. That the grandchild of the late deceased farmer, who once cared for the old farm a little ways away from town, would be moving in soon. He thought a new face around town would be nice. After all, Elliot was fairly new to the town himself! He thought the two of you could share in your common experience of being new to the environment and possibly build a friendly bond.

At least…until the week you were supposed to arrive rolled around.

The rumors of you being rude. He swore they spread faster than you had actually been here.

First it was from overhearing a conversation between Gus and Lewis on Friday.

The way Lewis described you was like hearing a weary night regale his tale of how he narrowly escaped the fiery breath of a dragon. “They’ve…definitely got an attitude.” Elliot heard Lewis say.

“I’m struggling to find the resemblances. Looks aside, they’re rude! They threatened me the other day when I tried to ask if they could do me a favor!”

Elliot wouldn’t exactly deny that the possibility of you being rude made him nervous. Everyone in town was so nice that having someone mean would be like a black sheep sticking out in the middle of white sheep, you just wouldn’t belong. Yet when he had happened upon you once fateful morning on the beach/

“The hell you lookin’ at Prince Charmin’” You spat in his direction when he stared too long.

His eyes widened. “N-Nothing! Forgive me, I’ve never seen you before.”

“I’m new here, that’s why.”

He cleared his throat. “So I see…” He stood in place a little while longer, observing you as you crouched down to collect items from the beach. Your appearance didn’t match your attitude, he thought. Your appearance was like that of nobility to him, graceful with certain details accentuating personality and your life on the farm.

From slightly muddied knees and a few scraps here and there.

But your tongue was like a freshly sharpened knife.

“The fuck?” You hissed at him again, snapping him out of his trance. “Who the hell you looking at? Got a problem?”

“N-No!” You dropped your bag full of items before you walked right up to him, your mouth nearly curling upwards like an angry feline.

“Yeah? You sure? You’re staring mighty hard for someone you A. Don’t know and B. Is just trying to go about their day! So what’s the problem?!”

Elliot chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry once again, it's just- I think you're really gorgeous to look at. The tales of your fiery temper did nothing to speak of your beauty as well." You paused at the compliment, your cheeks beginning to redden as your temper started to ease down considerably.

Besides the compliments towards the farm and your weapon prowess when you first joined the Adventurer's Guild. You didn't hear too many compliments about yourself, the only thing you'd hear was

"That new farmer is scary aren't they? They're completely unlike their grandfather!"

"Why did her grandfather entrust the farm to them? With their attitude, they'll probably soil the crops just from their glare."

To say it didn't hurt from time to time was an understatement. It wasn't your fault that you had a mean scowl on your face 24/7 and sometimes you had a habit of speaking about how you actually felt about someone before thinking about your words!

So, to hear a compliment? You couldn't help the way it made your heart flutter and your chest begin to warm.

Not that you would let this lonely beach writer who talked like some actor from Medieval Kingdom know that.

"...Thank you." You finally mumbled under your breath.

A smile graced Elliot's features. "You're welcome."

There was a comfortable silence for a few minutes before you turned around to quickly pick up your backpack before walking off. But, not before Elliot could get another line in. "You should visit my cabin sometime! I love visitors!"

Although there was no response, for the next few months afterward, however, he kept strangely receiving duck feathers and ink bottles at his front door every other day...

Sebastion

:: The first time he had even heard the rumors of a new farmer. He was talking to his mother about her day and also alerting her that he would be out for a while riding his motorcycle. His mother had made sure to tell him to "be safe!" and likes before she told him that someone new would be moving into the old farm a little ways from town.

He hadn't thought much of it.

'Just another face in the crowd' he thought while also wondering why someone would even choose to go to this town where the most interesting thing that happened was when a slime got loose in the middle of town a while ago!

Until...the words of how rude and snappy you were began to pop up.

"That new farmer has no manners!"

"They're so mean..." He also heard Lewis say. "All I asked was for them to retrieve a...special item from Marnie's house and they said 'Get it yourself'"! Sebastion didn't see anything wrong with the supposed 'attitude' you were giving people in town, in his mind? He thought it was about time that someone had tried to bring a different energy to the town besides being yet another happy-go-lucky person who wanted to help everyone and anyone!

And even when he bumped into you one midnight evening...a sword in his hand as he wanted to go exploring the mines in order to try and put himself to sleep, his opinion of your supposed attitude remained the same.

Though, as he saw the piles of dead Shadow Brutes around...he did have a mind to be a little more weary of you. No one had told him that you were capable of slaying multiple Shadow Brutes on your own.

"You lost gloomy?" Were your first words to him as you pushed your hair back out of your face, snapping him back to reality.

He glared at you. "I could ask the same of you. Whose out fighting Shadow Brutes at midnight?"

"Me," You responded. "Something that I wouldn't expect you to do seeing how you're as skinny as a twig."

His mouth dropped a little, his annoyance with you growing as well as his interest of you. You were mean, that was no question but...unless his ears were playing tricks on him due to him not interacting with too many other people besides his friends.

He could've sworn there was a little bit of playfulness in your voice.

"I may be skinny but I've been down these mines before." He said, walking past you with a grumble as he started to look around the area for anything valuable.

As you looked Sebastion over, your mouth cracked upward a little more in an amused smile. You had just arrived at the valley, and joining the Adventurer's Guild was a good way to blow off some steam and clear your mind by fighting mindless monsters. You hadn't really thought about talking to any of the residents besides the essential ones such as Pierre, Robin and sometimes Lewis from time to time.

But, you were beginning to change your mind.

"You managed to make it all the way down to level 100 in the mines gloomy, maybe you wouldn't mind accompanying me to level 120?"

Sebastion looked back at you with a huff. "You probably wouldn't want a 'twig' coming with you."

"Even twigs can have their usefulness, don't be a wuss."

His eyes narrowed. "I'm not a wuss."

You stuck your tongue out playfully. "Then prove it! Killing those Squid Kids can be a tricky process at times." As you walked passed him, you playfully shoved him as a cocky laugh escaped you. "Who knows? Maybe you'll even upgrade from a twig to a branch."

He could've ignored you, he wanted to ignore you but...as you sauntered away cockily, climbing down one of the ladders into the next level. He couldn't deny that you were interesting despite your need to tease him despite the two of you just meeting, you may have had an annoyingly high urge to tease but...strangely enough?

He liked it.

#stardew valley #stardew farmer #stardew fandom #stardew sebastian #stardew elliott #writing #stardew x reader #elliot x reader #sdv #sdv bachelors #sdv sebastian #sdv elliott #stardew #sdv farmer #sdv x farmer #sdv x reader

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freedomfireflies · 9 months

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if you please have time, could you please do a lil Mine something tonight? just something to hold me over😩 smut/possesive if possible!❤️

THIS IS SUPER SHORT AND LAST MINUTE, I'M SO SORRY BUT IT WAS KIND OF FUN SO THANK YOU FOR ASKING AND I'M SO SORRY IF I'M LATE 😭💞

“Harry…Harry, please—”

“No. Keep going.”

“Harry—”

“Keep fucking going or I will use my fucking hands and make you.”

You whimper, nose nuzzling into his neck in a futile attempt to hide yourself from the prying eyes around the restaurant.

You don’t know how you got here. Or maybe you do, you just don’t like it. You hadn’t meant to upset him. Hadn’t meant to cause such a scene or aggravate the man. And you certainly didn’t do it on purpose.

Sometimes Harry gets like this. After a particularly hard and stressful week. He slips into his domspace and God rest the souls that bear witness to it.

Tonight for example. Your poor waiter had made the mistake of smiling at you. Perhaps longer than he should. And yes, you’d smiled back. Because you’re polite, and you had no reason not to.

And normally, Harry doesn’t mind. Half the time, he doesn’t even notice. He’s only ever looking at you.

This time was different.

He caught the impish grin and had lost his last shred of patience. He’d threatened to go over and throw the poor lad out onto the streets. Knock his teeth down his throat and at the very least, make sure he was fucking fired.

You’d just barely managed to drag him back down into his seat before he could. Although he did send daggers toward the man to keep him from returning.

But at the cost of his violence, a new idea was born.

He’d taken hold of your hips and swung you over onto his thigh. In the middle of the crowded restaurant, with wandering eyes all around, he ripped your panties to the side and hissed, “Why don’t you show him who you really fucking belong to?”

Your pussy was dragged over his leg still covered by his nice dress slacks, instantly ruining them. Over and over and over he forced you to grind against his lap, unaffected by the wild stares and gasps of horror from everyone in the room.

You’d tried to calm him down, convince him that there wasn’t anything for him to be upset about.

But he'd merely shot you a stern look of warning and you instantly began to thrust yourself against his thigh.

And one orgasm wasn’t enough. Because it never is, and he insisted you continue until he felt you were through.

So, you did.

Now, soft whimpers are lost beneath the gentle jazz music around the room. Much louder since the restaurant has grown eerily quiet.

Everyone is watching. Nobody is moving. The poor waiter is cowering in the corner.

This is Harry’s game. And they all know it.

“Daddy,” you mewl, arms snaking around his neck as the pleasure begins to unfurl. You hadn’t expected to be so enamored by this little display, but the wet patch on his trousers proves otherwise. “Shit…please—”

“Keep going,” he growls, large hands curled around the armrest of his chair. Refusing to touch you unless it’s as punishment. “Now, mama.”

You do. Roll your cunt over his leg quickly, gasping and crying out as your over abused clit is stimulated by the rough fabric on his lap.

“Harry,” you try again, but he merely presses his cheek to yours and practically bares his teeth.

“Shut up.” It’s the same tone of voice he only reserves for the dangerous life he lives. Everyday criminals before he executes them. Never for you. “Dirty little attention whores don’t get to make demands, do they?”

Your head shakes fervently as you continue your rhythm, closer to your second orgasm than ever before. The coarse hairs of his mustache dragging across your cheek until you shiver.

“No,” he agrees coldly before his eyes drift to the waiter a few feet away. “Looks like your boyfriend misses you.”

You sniffle, grabbing onto him tighter. “Stop. S’not my boyfriend, Daddy, you know it. You’re being mean—”

“Mean?” He nearly barks the word until you jump. “You think I’m fucking mean, do you? When you were such a goddamn slut, you had to give it up for the first man that walked up to our table, hm?”

And the insults and insinuations shouldn’t rile you up the way they do, but you’re being thrown into the endlessly abyss of pleasure before you can fight it. Crying out as you soak his thigh once again and cling onto him for dear life.

The restaurant stills. A certain dangerous calm settling over the patrons and staff as everyone looks to Harry for his next move.

It takes him quite a while to finally speak, chest heaving beneath you as he struggles to contain his rage.

You imagine he’s going to demand you go again, but you press your lips to his ear before he can and whimper, “Please, Daddy. Wanna go home. Don’t want them to watch me anymore. Don’t want them to see me. Just want you. Only you, Daddy, please.”

You know it’s the only thing that might reach him when he’s in this headspace. The only thing that can get him out of this room and into the car so you can take him home.

And bring him back.

You release the deepest exhale when he finally nods once and wraps an arm around your back to help you off his lap.

But the minute he stands, he’s grabbing onto the steak knife and slamming it down into the table, puncturing the wood beneath as he stares at the man across the room.

“You fucking look at her again,” he seethes, “and this goes in your fucking heart.”

With that, Harry grabs your hand, and leads you out of the restaurant.

Leaving the scared-shitless waiter behind.

@acesofspadess @stylesfever @narry-heart @virginvirgo @pagesfalling @creativelyeva @char112244 @snwells

#harry #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fan #harry styles fanfiction #harry edward styles #harry styles smut #harry styles blurb #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #smut #harry styles one shot #mine harry #harry and sugar

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