#sorry about the mansion in advance

[feninina]

𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐭𝐞 ༉‧₊˚.⁀➷

therapist! jonathan crane x female reader.

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: when your father decided that you needed therapy, taking you to his dear friend dr. crane to treat and help you, you thought it wouldn't work at all, but it turned out to be everything you needed.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: SMUT(minors dni!!), noncon/dubcon, depression, cursing, crane is a mysoginistic prick, using therapy for unhinged reasons, smut, hair pulling, jonathan just being an creep, choking AND strangulation, dacryphilia, hitting, unprotected sex (safe sex its great sex!!), breeding kink, forced breeding, power dynamics, i think crane should be a warning himself, reader being borderline stupid and naive. also this has a lot of backstory i’m so sorry i got carried away lol.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 7.1K

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: omg my first fic on here!! this is also my first work on english and my first smut ever so i apologise in advance for any mistake!! i hope y'all enjoy it anyways ahahahaha live laugh love jonathan crane👏🏻 feedback its very appreciated so i can improve and continue to publish better works, anyways enjoyyyy 💓

𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝘂𝘁

It was awkward, to say the least.

You were sitting across from Doctor Crane in the couch at your dad's house, legs crossed as you watched him write on his clipboard, something about it making you feel anxious, a little nauseous, even.

This wasn't your first session, you started doing this four months ago, not long after your divorce that caused you to fall into a spiral of sadness and misery. Your failed— and short marriage was the main reason you started taking therapy with your dad's friend, the chief of Arkham, Jonathan Crane, and still, you couldn't bring yourself to talk about it.

He was patient, you told him several times that he was a saint. Regardless, before you started with the sessions, he explained to your dad that he didn't really do this; therapy really wasn't his strong suit, but for a friend, a desperate one, he would gladly do it.

Your dad came to him, offering a big stack of money if he would talk to his little girl, make her recover her once joyful personality, like you had one to begin with. Jonathan really couldn't say no, and not really because of the money, he had other reasons in mind, unethical reasons.

And there you were now. You were quick to open up to him, eager to talk, to be listened and he, on the other hand, was ready to listen, to give you advice, console you and help you get through the sorrow that was following you since you were young, playing the role of your knight in shinning armor.

"I can't believe you don't actually do this" you said once, sniffling your nose with a handkerchief he gave you as he examined you with a warm gaze, an empathetic grin on his face. "You're really helping me"

Jonathan was quick to wave his hand and tell you that it wasn't a big deal, that he was just doing his job, and if you weren't so innocent, so stupid, you would have noticed the mischievous sparkle that flickered in his eyes for a split second.

You were landing right in the palm of his hand.

Not even thirty minutes into the first session you told him everything about your past; every little thing you thought he needed to know to treat you. And you were slightly right; he did need to know those things, but not to treat you, just to manipulate you and mold your little brain into what he was envisioning for you and your future together.

Truth was, you hated everything about your life, regardless of the fact that you had everything. That's what you've been told since you were a child; a big house, a lot of money, maids taking care of you so you wouldn't have to move a finger and just sit pretty and relax inside the walls of the huge mansion that confined you since you could recall.

You have everything. That was bullshit.

Sometimes, you couldn't help but think that people told you that out of pity, like they knew how miserable you felt, but not daring to say a word about it. Your dad was a powerful man, and you were aware of that, ever since you were born, he had bussines with Falcone and you knew that people feared him, he practically ruled Gotham, that lifeless and dangerous city that you had to live in.

You have everything. You were tired of that sentence. You didn't care at all about these nice things surrounding you, those dresses in your closet, those diamonds in your jeweler, that fancy car you owned since your eighteenth birthday, no, that was useless in your eyes, because all you really wanted, was love.

It was a lonely life; you learned how to do everything by yourself, how to comb your hair, how to deal with your period when it first came, how to dress up properly and do your makeup. You didn't even had to learn about boy problems because there weren't any boys in your life, you were homeschooled. So you were quiet, not really having to talk at all, there was nobody to talk to.

And since Jonathan was the only person you were talking to at the moment, you started to feel like you loved him, the idea sitting right with you without you even knowing it, thinking that this was how therapy normally went.

Loneliness striked your life at a young age; your mother died from a strange disease when you were eight, leaving you with a shattered heart thad bled everytime you walked past her bedroom, or saw a picture of her. You practically watched her die, a witness of how she lost her strength, how her once beautiful skin turned pale and yellow, and lost every little spark within herself, and the worst part was that all the money you had, couldn't even help her.

It was a deep wound that you carried with yourself, with nobody to talk about it.

Your father spent his days locked up in his office, and when he wasn't there, he was out in the city doing unthinkable things that you didn't even wanted to know about, leaving you on your own, having to fill all of those silent and empty rooms by yourself, with nobody to laugh with, nobody to hold you and see you grow. He wasn't really around, working all the time, too busy to know that his daughter didn't seem to care about all the expensive stuff he bought for her, not even taking the time to have dinner with you or hold a simple conversation. He loved you, you knew that, he just wasn't the type to show his affection with words or actions, but with gifts. And you hated everything about it.

But now, Jonathan was there, making you feel listened, finally saving you from falling into loneliness again. Your whole life, you thought you had a horrible sickness, that you were doomed to this awful destiny of sorrow and silence, but now, with his sweet words and good company, you couldn't be more than relieved.

You wished sometimes that you met him earlier, that this whole therapy stuff started before, and you even confessed it to him. And it irked him a little, that you didn't even remember how you two really met each other, hiding his annoyance with a warm smile.

Some months ago, your father started to brought you to parties he attended, parties were all the corrupts scumbags from Gotham reunited and celebrated how they were dragging the city to the gates of hell on their benefit, and you couldn't be more happy to attend them. You knew he was bringing you because he recently broke up with the young girl he carried with him— that was most likely your age, and needed a pretty thing to hang of his arm and take care of the people he didn't feel like talking to.

So you accepted this new life, eating up this role of socialite like it was made for you.

It was a chance to know people, to speak and make new friends, but you learned quickly that those people weren't there for that, and picked up on how mostly of the people who talked to you just wanted to climb up the social ladder and gain some extra points from your father.

He, even, introduced you to a couple of people that seemed close to your age, and you chatted with them, feeling extremely anxious because you weren't used to this, so it was weird to them seeing such a pretty woman, with your status and fortune, acting so shy and quiet in a place that your dad practically owned.

After a couple of hours, you learned the agenda. All you had to do was put on a fake smile, get them off your father's shoulders and pretend you were very interested in what they had to say, hiding your uncomfortable expression behind your glass of champagne, promising them that you would arrange a reunion with your father someday.

One of those nights, your father introduced you to someone, someone who you didn't pay much attention because he seemed to be uninterested too, only being there for the sake of his job.

"Pretty girl, come here" your father said, a cheerful tone of voice as grabbed you by the shoulder to get your attention, snapping you out of your train of thoughts. "I want you to meet my friend, Doctor Crane"

You looked at the man in front of your dad, his pale blue eyes already sizing you up discretely, looking at you up and down in a way that didn't go unnoticed by you, a shiver running down your spine as his eyes finally locked with yours.

You couldn't help but feel small under his gaze, your glass now forgotten in your left hand, the right one extended to take his and stretch it for a quick second, returning to your first position, his expression remaining serious.

"Nice to meet you" he spoke, his voice sounding like velvet in your eyes, not quite sensing the undertone behind it. "Your father told me wonders about you"

You grin, the irony of that sentence making you laugh a little, what wonders could your father know about you? But you kept your composure, the conversation not going any further, and you forgot about him fast enough, when in another of those annoying parties you met the love of your life — or so you thought.

That same night, when you went back home, you were thinking about spending the rest of your life with some guy that flirted with you at the bar, and Jonathan, prayed to whatever thing listening to him up there, that crossed your path with his again.

He practically obsessed with you, because it felt right. You were young, beautiful, wealthy and had a last name that could open even more doors for him, getting tired of saving Falcone's man of going to jail; you were an opportunity, tied to a nice pair of legs.

After a few weeks of stalking, it kinda broke his heart that naive as he expected you, you got married to the guy from the party; he told you then his name was Lewis, and now you doubted it that was even true.

You were finally going to get what you always wished for, a family, love. And it was perfect. Everything was perfect.

It was a dream that you were living in. A dream that shattered in front of you no longer than three months after.

After you contracted married with this man, you took care of the house, now learning all of these housewife duties that you didn't know anything about, but making your best effort to please him, to be the perfect woman ever created, departing from your old life and habits and adjusting them to his own.

You couldn't be more happy, regardless of your bad cooking, the bad-swiped floor and the half-done bed that welcomed you both every night, you finally had love.

It lasted three months. Your wholesome real life fantasy of a marriage destroyed when you found out, accidentally, that this man was just an employee of your dad, willing to get a promotion if he married you. At that moment, you didn't know who you hated more, if the bastard, or your dad who was literally bribing the bastard to love you.

But your dad only wanted to make you happy, tho.

You were embarrassed, not quite sure of how to tell this to Jonathan, because after all, he was there for you, just for the money your dad was paying him. Your cursed the day your dad became rich, because all of it was making you miserable and it felt like it wasn't going to stop.

At this point, a feeling of despite against you was growing within Jonathan, after a few weeks treating you, he quickly remembered why he didn’t chose this path of career, but remembering that he was there because of a major reason; a reason more important than your helpless cries for attention.

He was sick of you, all you ever did was complain in the commodity of your million dollar house, unaware that there were more important problems in the world. It isn’t completely your fault, Jonathan thought one day, you were just an ungrateful brat, and his work was to tame you, and he planned to do just that today.

"So," he startled you, narrowing his eyebrows, an expression in his face that you could only understand as concern. "remember, if you don't speak, I can't help you".

You chuckle and shift your weight in the chair, immediately feeling your eyes fill up with tears as you confronted the fact that you had to speak about it, right now. He was quick to offer you his handkerchief, as he always did and with shaky hands you took it, sniffling onto it, closing your eyes as you felt your whole body shake with each one of your cries.

You felt Jonathan put his hand on your knee, softy caressing the skin that his thumb could reach, opening your eyes and looking at his, Jonathan welcoming you with a pitying look. You put the tissue aside, both him being so close and his scent impregnated on the piece of fabric making you feel a little giddy, a little confused.

Why was your heart racing so much? He was your therapist, here to talk about your former husband.

Jonathan couldn't help but grin a little, knowing he was maybe breaking a rule here, touching you like this, being so close. He couldn't care less, after all, he wasn't here listening to you cry and bitch about your whole life for the sake of your well-being. He was here because he wanted you to break and get on your knees to him. Figuratively and literally.

"It's so embarrassing" you struggled to spit out "He didn't even love me, Doctor"

He hummed, dragging his chair so he was a little closer to you, you looked at him through your teary lashes and tried to keep it together, this wasn't the first time you cried in front of him, but the reason itself was enough to make you feel full of shame.

He didn't say anything, this being a motivation for you to continue.

"My dad was paying him" you murmured, cleaning the mascara off your cheeks. "It was all a lie"

The whole situation was absurd, what happened to you still felt like a sick joke they were playing on you, your dad and Lewis, probably waiting for the perfect moment to tell you the truth.

But that wasn't going to happen, right now the only thing that felt true to you was Jonathan. He set you up to that, and you blindly fell on his silly trap.

"Poor thing" he cooed you, moving his hand a little further up your thigh, noticing the goosebumps on your skin. A mastermind, that's how he felt. "How could they?"

That was all the mendacity he fed you with since you started seeing him, making you believe he was actually empathizing with you, full of loathe against everyone who hurt you, who dared to leave you alone, but now he was there, his task being to pretend to care.

"It's pathetic" you blurted out, leaning into his touch when his prying hand went up to your cheek. You really couldn't say anything more, crying against his hand like it was something you did every monday morning. "I'm so sad. I don't know what to do"

He shook his face, your eyes meeting his with a confused expression, black stained tears dropping on your lap and wetting his hand before he returned it and looked over his clipboard, pretending to think.

You were so vulnerable, ready for him to destroy. He finally got you where he wanted. He then explained you that you were so sad that it made you unaware of a lot of things, blinded by your own pity against yourself that every door that opened, you closed. It all came down to a thing; you needed a diagnosis.

He gave you a moment to process the information, ready to continue with his plan.

"Actually," he started, his tone now more firm, more strict, the one he used when you were approaching the end of the session. On the last one, he recommended you to touch yourself, to liberate oxytocin on your brain or something you really didn't understood.

It was almost evil from his side, he knew that your only thought while doing it would he him ordering you to do so.

"I'm sorry to be the bearer of such awful news, Y/N" he stated, making your heart skip a beat. "But I think you're sick"

You nearly gasped, the air got stuck in your throat, more tears gathering in your eyes. You lifted one of your hands to your chest, a million thoughts crossing your head as Jonathan's clever eyes examined your expression.

Bingo.

"Sick" you repeated after a moment, almost like you were making peace with the revelation. "How sick?"

It was an innocent question, your tone of voice shaking as your inferior lip trembled, holding it with your teeth in an attempt to not burst into tears again, your whole body feeling like it was going to break into a million peaces by how much you were shaking in the couch.

Jonathan was quick, standing from the chair he was on and taking a seat by your side, his hand swiftly placing in your knee. You looked at him confused, he never got this close, maybe your sickness was serious.

"What am I, Doctor?" you whispered, your eyes showing him a hint of fear that made him finally lose all his faked professionalism. "Depressed? Crazy?"

Both of you were dying of anticipation now; meanwhile you feared that you were going to get admitted to Arkham, Jonathan was seeing the golden ticket to the best future he could ever achieve, and all thanks to you.

"Oh, no, no" he purred, his hand making its way up to your thigh. "You're sick, not crazy"

You parted your lips as his hand moved more further, not really sure of what was happening, not daring to stop him, too scared of your mental health to think about anything else, not helping the way your legs started to part too.

A sudden gasp left your lips as his hand squeezed your tight, a smile you never saw on him appearing on his face. The crying stopped a moment ago, the surprise of having him so close making you go a little numb.

"I know what a girl like you needs" he said, almost sternly, like his hand wasn't centimeters away from your panties.

Was in that moment, that you knew this wasn’t about therapy anymore.

"You think so?" you whispered, your voice still shaky, but now for a whole different reason. "And what is it, Doctor?"

"To be fucked stupid"

It almost shocked you how he said that as it was a normal diagnosis, like he gave you a name of a medicine you could go and buy at any drugstore in town. You gulped and didn't move when his grip tightened on your leg, your face growing red.

A loud gasp escaped your lips when at your lack of response, Jonathan grabbed you hard by the jaw and forced you to look at him. Your eyes glistened with nothing but fear, your brows narrowing as you mumbled something that he really couldn't understand, and it wasn't like he wanted to.

"You're sick, Y/N" he repeated, more harshly this time, his hand moving your head as he spoke. "And I'm going to cure you"

He let go of your face to clasp his lips against yours, a kiss very far away from sweet, his mouth moving roughly against yours. You never had been kissed like this, so you tried to play it along, trying to show him some of the love you felt for him, that you thought you owed him.

But he didn't care if you felt loved during the kiss, trying to assert the dominance he held upon you, his hand now holding firmly the back of you neck to prevent you from pulling away.

It was a mess; your teeth clashed, drool was dripping from your chin as his tongue explored every space of your mouth, not leaving anywhere of it untouched. Your movements were a little stiff, unsure of what to do, trying to provide the sweetness that he lacked.

His hand moved to your the front of your neck and squeezed it a little, making you yelp in surprise, the sound muffled by his mouth. You tried to get away from the kiss, confused about his rough actions against you, a little scared of him even, almost like you didn’t trust him every little part of your brain in this same couch for the last couple of months.

But then it clicked on your foggy brain, he knew you, perfectly— you only knew his name, you didn’t know what this man was capable of.

You could only move a few centimeters away from his hungry mouth, your lips parted as tears welled in your eyes from the pressure he was applying to your neck.

“Stop” you managed to stutter, your breath mixing with his. “I can’t- breathe”

You doubted that he listened to you, your voice not coming out of your throat at all and getting stuck in your larynx, your voice-box completely muffled by his strong grip.

“Shut up, brat” he spitted, his tone sounding full of abhor, your eyes wide open as you felt the air leaving your body and your lungs starting to burn. “Always getting what you want”

You weakly placed one of your hands around his wrist, another attempt of gasp elicited from your agape mouth as he lifted his other hand and choked you with both, something in your dizzy mind telling you that he was possessed.

“Crying all the time- complaining” he continued, not caring if you were listening, the suffocation being to much to bare now. “So selfish”

And maybe he was.

Your brain was filled with fear, wondering how it all went from a kiss to this— almost getting killed by your therapist in your couch. You opened your eyes to meet his, feeling like your chest was on fire as there wasn’t any air flowing in, seeing how the blue of Jonathan’s eyes has darkened and his lips were parted as well, the muscles of his jaw twitching as he choked you to death.

Your eyebrows narrowed together in terror as you noticed that familiar tingly sensation in your lower belly and your thighs clenching together. Maybe it was something about him exercising this power over you, how you felt so feeble under his touch, that was probably leaving bruises on your neck for you to carry and show around what he was making you do it.

You didn’t have enough time to think about it, you were practically dying.

“And you are enjoying this?” he said with an amused tone, probably noticing how your thighs fragily contracted against one another.

You felt yourself slowly lose your consciousness when finally the relief came and the air started to flow again to your desperate lungs, taking long and loud puffs of air when his hand let go of your neck. Your erratic breath was interrupted by a loud moan that escaped you when Crane yanked you by your hair and shoved you to the floor.

He was quick yo position you between his legs, looking at you through his unfixed glasses, giving you a twisted smile that made you quiver in fear, that growing wet patch on your panties making you feel like a really sick girl.

“Doctor-” you mumbled, closing your eyes as he pulled your hair, withdrawing a mewl off your mouth. “Hurts”

“You talk when I tell you to talk” he snickered, adjusting the way his fingers gripped your hair. You thought that he might just pull out the strand he was tugging. “I’m sick of your whining”

You felt more tears well up in your eyes; not sure if it was from the pain in your head or how his words felt like a knife that landed right on your heart. You were confused, sad, angry— a little hot, too.

“I pay you yo listen to me” you said, your voice so shaky you were lucky he could understand you. You wished he didn’t understand you.

Another sort of moan left your lips as a hard slap made a landing in your cheek, your face turned to the side because of the impact. You closed your eyes in disbelief, a cry coming out as you felt helpless, wondering if this was some exposure therapy he was experimenting on you.

He repeated himself, instructing you to talk only when you were told so, nodding in defeat as you accepted whatever this was and continued to play along with Jonathan’s sick fantasy of controlling you, without even knowing it.

You looked at him with nothing but inquietude, the look in his eyes giving you the foreboding that nothing good was about to happen now, frightened of what we would do to you.

He didn’t show any hints of letting go of your hair anytime soon, just holding it firmly to keep you looking at him through your heavy lashes, a wicked grin on his smug face.

“Let’s give that whining mouth of yours a good use” he said, and you gulped, understanding what he wanted and quivering in fear, not really understanding why the sticky sensation between your legs grew.

“Undo my pants” he commanded, and you stayed still, your eyes not leaving his even when another slap landed on your tear-wet face. “Do as you’re told, brat. This might be your only cure”

You couldn’t help but sob a little, his tone sounding so definitive, so professional. Your trembling hands reached his belt and unbuckling it ungracefully, taking longer than he expected, you heard him chuckle as you unbuttoned his pants afterwards, then putting your hands back in front of your lap.

“C’mon” he pulled your hair again, causing you to moan in pain. “Don’t make me tell you what to do”

You looked at him again in nothing but shame, trying to resist to this humiliating request of his, but complying it anyways. He said he was going to cure you, but now you doubted it, right now, you only wanted this to be over.

With a last look at his eyes you returned your attention to the growing bulge in his slacks, the shame in your brain being present at all times, not quite helping the way your eyes were fixated on his clothed member. You were quick to free him out after your staring earned you a other harsh pull of hair, your lips turned into a line when his cock slapped his abdomen, causing his dress shirt to wrinkle a little.

“Go on, Y/N” he encouraged you, as you looked at him with pleading eyes, silently begging him for mercy, knowing that even if you screamed it at him, he just wouldn’t listen. “This isn’t about what you want, anymore. Is about what you need”

A tear slid from your eyes and disappeared down your cheek when his free hand placed the tip of his hard cock on your parted lips, gesturing you to take it and not waste more of his time— more than you already did.

“Open up, whore” he said under his breath, using your hair as a device to move your head and help you shove his length down your throat. You complied, the tears in your eyes now soaking in you cheeks by the effort that you were making trying to welcome his thick shaft down your mouth.

You were sure you scratched him with your teeth a few times as he bobbed your head up and down with his strong hand, manhandling you without care for his own pleasure. You placed your hands on his knees, trying not to gag, but when his tip touched the bottom of your throat, you couldn’t help it.

You cried as you felt suffocated again, now for a whole different reason, a more humiliating one, and you almost wished he killed you then. His hips buckled everytime your lips reached the base of his cock, the room filled with the sounds of your mouth and saliva coating his shaft and the soft moans that came out of his poisoned lips.

“Take it, whore” he said, his voice now husky and distorted by the pleasure, the pain that your teeth accidentally inflicted on him turning him even more. “God- you are horrible at this”

He chuckled between heavy breaths, pulling you by the hair and releasing his cock from your mouth, a vulgar pop filling both of your ears at the sudden separation of your lips and his member. Your eyes looked at the floor, feeling such a shame that the mere thought of meeting his face with your fearful face made you cringe, the pulsating pain on the back of your head making you dizzy.

“You can’t suck dick properly” he said, his tone sounding like he was making fun of you. “No wonder why your husband left you. You’re just pathetic”

You finally rose up your face to look at that insufferable smile of his, ignoring the way his cock was still hanging there in front of you, almost brushing your nose. His fingers finally untangled from your hair and giving you some sort of solace, the consolation that this traumatic session was over.

Maybe the remedy was worse than the sickness itself.

“Jonathan, stop it, plea-”

Your imploration was completely ignored, followed by another slap on your wet cheek that made you cry even more, not understanding how this man could’ve been the same one who made you felt loved and finally listened. You fell for a lie once again.

“Get on the couch” he simply said, his words were like a bucket of cold water fell on you. “Stop the bitching, don’t want to hear it”

“And I’m your doctor. Not Jonathan” he reminded you, making you feel even more ashamed.

You did as he told, again, half-standing from the floor and sitting next to him, trying to take as much space from him as you could before he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer, your face growing red as his face was now centimeters away from yours.

“You look so beautiful when you cry” he whispered, caressing your face but trying to nor wipe the tears away, almost like he was admiring you. It made you melt into his touch, glad that his kind demeanor was there again. Even if his words made you cringe— and the fact that his cock was still out, you felt your heart grew warmer by the way he tenderly touched you.

It didn’t last much longer, when his lips twitched into a malicious smile and went down to nibble your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses around the bruised skin and bitting where his fingers hurt you previously, making your fingers wrap on his hair and cry for mercy, trying for him to stop hurting you this much.

“Shut up, stupid brat” he repeated that same insult, making you swallow your cries, closing your eyes in disbelief as he continued to injure your already suffering skin.

You arched your back in surprise when all of the sudden his hands reached for your breasts, groping your tits like his life depending on it, stimulating you through the fabric of your shirt, but all you felt was fear and anger, impotence flowing through your veins because you just couldn’t scream and push him away, fear was freezing you on the spot.

The worst part? You maybe didn’t wanted to push him away. Because maybe if he gets what he wants now you would be cured and he’ll be back to normal, returning you the sweet Doctor Crane that you met once, not this monster that was groping you like a piece of meat.

He clicked his tongue and dropped both of his hands to spread your legs open, forcing your back to drop onto the hand rester of the couch. You looked at him with big eyes, your heart felt like it was going to jump out of your chest and scream to Jonathan that enough was enough, you just couldn’t take any of this anymore.

But your heart stayed there, between your lungs that seemed incapable to hold any air, making your breathing erratic. So nobody screamed Jonathan to stop, and he continued with his profanation against your persona— your dignity.

He bit his lip at the sight of your fucked-up face, your legs open as it showed him the dark patch on your baby blue panties, darting his eyes from your half-exposed crotch to your teary eyes.

“God, keep crying and I might come now” he growled, lowering his face to meet your pussy, kissing it through your underwear, making you mewl, closing your eyes at the sudden attention your core was getting.

You felt embarrassed at how much you enjoyed when he moved the fabric to the side and started making out with your cunt, swallowing your fluids like a starved man.

“So wet” he mumbled against your labia, the vibration making your eyes roll back, bitting your lip to prevent any moan to come out; he was raping you, why did he make you enjoy it? “I bet you like this, to be treated like a whore”

You shook your head, more tears falling out of your eyes as you felt nothing else but humiliation, pleasure washing over your body everytime his tongue brushed your clit, your back arched against nothing.

“You like it?” he said, finally pulling out and pushing his body up so his face was in front of yours, his cock grazing against your now stimulated pussy, a gasp leaving your lips, a gasp that quickly turned into a hurting moan when his hand slapped you again, this time in your throbbing cunt. “Answer me”

“I- I do” you whispered, gripping his shoulders when you felt him align the head of his member with your whole, scared of how it was going to fit. You had trouble taking it when he face-fucked you, how the fuck it was going to fit down there?

“I’m going to fuck you so good” he whispered between pants, jerking himself off before entering you. “You’re going to forget that pathetic husband of yours”

You couldn’t help but cry, trying to push him off by the shoulders, a terrified look on your face. “It won’t fit, Doctor” you pleaded, a crooked grin on his face as you keep on calling him that. “I beg you, don’t-”

“Yes, beg me” he said, starting to push his member inside you with a slow but relentlessly pace, not giving you enough time to adjust, just to scream and hit him weakly on the chest, face and shoulders before ge grabbed your hands and pinned them down, on the sides of your body. “I’m going to cure you- do you so good”

His voice was low, as he barely could speak when he felt just how tight you were, your walls hugging his cock just the right way, his pulsating head making your mind dizzy, the stinging pain starting to be forgotten.

But when he slid out and entered back it, the hardness of his movement made your insides burn with pain, a loud cry echoing in the walls of the living room as he started to trust into your pussy with a fast pace, not caring at all if you felt good.

He snapped his hips against yours with an animalistic force, growls escaped from his mouth every time his cock was welcomed by the warmth of your stretch whole, the sensation making him go even more feral, making you cry more.

He let go of one of your hands and grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at his eyes as he fucked you vigorously, the blue on his iris not existent anymore, only his widely dilated pupils meeting yours, your blurred vision distinguishing the depraved expression in his face.

“You- so tight” he snarled, his voice barely audible, covered by the sound of skin slapping and your loud cries. “I bet your stupid husband didn’t fuck you like this”

You felt nothing but shame as you felt his cock now sliding in and out more easily, the wetness of your cunt growing as he spoke to you like that, that familiar heat flourishing in your lower belly as his words degraded you, your cries quickly becoming moans.

“This was all you needed- fuck” he said, his spit splashing your face as he talked, his words full of disdain. “A good dick, that’s all it takes to keep bitches like you quiet” You nodded, thinking that if you agreed he would stop. How wrong you were.

In a quick movement Jonathan took his cock out and spun you around, not giving you time to get on your ass up by laying your chest down before he stabbed your hole again, pushing your skirt all the way up to see how his pelvis came into collision with your ass.

You were moaning like a bitch in heat now, sure that the maids were listening, not really caring about it anymore. Jonathan was fucking you nice and hard, your mouth wide open as his tip brushed your cervix, screaming to him to keep it right there.

“I’m close” he said, pulling your hair back to press his chest to your back, his other hand going down to play with your swollen clit, wanting your to come around his cock like the slut he knew you were. “Come with me, you whore”

“Yes” you moaned, your tongue out as his cock hit the right spots, making your hips to move against his, grinding against his hand and dick, feeling your wetness drip down to your thighs. “Yes, yes, I want to”

He laughed, approaching your ear with his tongue to bite it, leaving a long and wet kiss underneath it that made you grow hotter, your eyes closed as you let him use you; the only thought in your mind being him and his wonder-working cock.

Truth was, he was fucking you stiffly, every slam of his hips stronger than the last one, but you were so deprived of touch, so dick-starved, that even if Jonathan was fucking you like a lifeless doll, only for the sake of his pleasure, you loved it, even when it hurt you.

“I’m going to fill you up” he said against your ear, his hand leaving your clit unattended as he grabbed your hip to increase the velocity of his thrusts, ramming your hole like a demented man, making your head drop against his shoulder and scream at the ceiling, now knowing what he meant by curing you.

“Going to get you pregnant” he said, more to himself than anything “so you don’t have to bitch about being alone anymore”

You opened your eyes with terror, you didn’t want children, you were so young. The idea made you frightened, the moaning now sounding like little nos and pull outs, but Jonathan didn’t listen.

“Doctor please, please, pull out” you pleaded, reaching for his hips and trying to push him away, one of his hands slapping your ass and pulling you down by your shoulder blade so you wouldn’t fight anymore. “Doctor Crane please”

“I will fucking fill you up, Y/N” he chanted, laughing at the idea of your round belly and your swollen tits, carrying his baby all day and feeling all worked up and needy all day, only waiting for him to fuck you all day. “You won’t be alone again. You won’t be sad again”

Then you realized it.

When he came, your hot walls creamed every single drop of his cum, making his thrusts sloppy and slow, his moans filling your ears as you sobbed under his touch, feeling his seed paint your walls and load your insides with his sperm.

That was your cure.

His hot release that now flooded inside your leaking cunt, that was your so-promised antidote. He took away your solitude by giving you his and yours firstborn, a bastard baby that would give you the company that you lacked.

You felt him chuckle as he rode out his high, the chase of his own climax made you forget yours, so now there you were, your swollen cunt looking for its release while his rested among your insides calmly, like it was meant to be.

He didn’t pull out immediately, taking his time to appreciate the sight of your skirt resting in your hips all rolled up, your bruised neck and messy hair, the way your ass was exposed to him by the way he had you arching your back. All for him— for him to wreck.

He pulled out and rolled his eyes when you started crying, now being annoying instead of hot. You sat on the couch and saw him button his pants and fix his hair, hissing when you felt nothing but pain growing in your worn-out pussy. You explained through your weak voice how he ruined your life, that he was the worst person you’ve ever met and that now you had to carry the product of his sick and twisted rapist-fantasy, even tried to hit him, but your pathetic tantrum only gained you another slap in the face, and a stern look.

When he tried to stand up and leave, you grabbed him by the wrist and begged him not to, he couldn’t just leave you, not now, not ever.

“Don’t be so ungrateful” he said, a smile that made you feel nothing but trepidation in his face. “You’ll never be alone again”

You couldn’t help but feel scared. Scared of him, of what just happened, of what’s going to happen next, scared for your future son with this evil specie of a man.

When you continued to cry, and he pulled you for a hug as he assured you that he would never leave you; and how could he? He had a long life of success waiting for him now, giving a girl of your status his last name, his children. Oh, it’s going to be wonderful, he just needed to tame you and make you the perfect slave for him, and that wasn’t going to be hard.

You were sure that you’ll never be loved, but at least now Jonathan was going to be with you. You’ll never be alone again.

thanks for reading. w/love, fenina;)

taglist: @lovesickxcherries @genini @ilunapb @ostricx @devotedlyshadowytheorist

if you want to be added let me know, it’ll be my pleasure🫶🏻

#cillian x fem!reader #jonathan crane x reader #cillian murphy x oc #cillian murphy x reader #cillian smut #cillian x reader #cillian x y/n #jonathan crane fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #jonathan crane x you #cillian one shot #cillian fic #peaky blinder imagine #batman fanfiction #scarecrow x reader

[emeraldkniight]

𝓞lder. d.wayne ୨ ໋ ˳ ⊹ eng. . . !

WARNINGS. . . drabble. damian!older. nsfw. sex, masturbation, orgasm denial, thigh riding, dirty talk, degradation.

SUMMARY. . . where the reader bothers Damian because she is only a few years older than him, and he takes revenge in the cruelest way.

COPYRIGHT. . . No copying of my work is allowed. Free translation is allowed as long as I am credited. LANGUAGE. . . English is not my first language and I am still studying to master it. It makes me insecure to write by myself in another language, so I used the translator. I apologize in advance for any mistakes. The original version is here.

You shouldn't have made fun of him. You felt sorry for yourself for making that joke that made him completely furious and put your body into such hungry need. 

With deep honesty, you wanted to cum all over the thigh that was sliding deep into your wet pussy; to be grotesquely smeared with all the fluids that came from the excitement he himself had caused you.

Did you really deserve this treatment just for pulling a stupid or mean prank?

You had one advantage over Damian, and that was that you were exactly one year older than him. The joke in the mansion about Damian being the youngest made you laugh, honestly. The only problem was that you did not know that you were not allowed to make a joke about his age. 

Even though Damian had grown up and was an adult, you decided to go along with the joke, thinking that the worst that could happen was that he would give you a dirty look. Little did you know that that would be the least of your problems compared to what was in store for you.

— What's the matter, Tn? Wasn't I just a fucking kid to you? Look where we now have the famous mature lady desperately begging to cum under my thigh. You've always been a bitch, but it surprised me that you're so weak and pathetic.

Your tears slid down your cheeks until they fell on his shoulders from the humiliating way he mocked you.

Your clit throbbed against the presence of hot skin touching you, it was full. Your own vaginal entrance of arousal was dripping fluid and clenching around nothing. The hypersensitivity of the approach of your orgasm did not allow you to see things clearly.

What hurt the most at that moment was knowing that Damian would not let you cum for anything in the world. That was your punishment for being mean to him, your penance.

And now, his thigh wasn't enough. Your entrance longed for a cock to sink into you so that it would be enough. 

As he sank into you, at first you felt nothing but fullness, nothing but the feeling of your belly being completely filled. Then he began to thrust into you so hard that for a moment you felt he was going to split you in two; his hips rocking against your abused hole where his manhood fit perfectly. Damian loved the feeling of being surrounded by your warmth.

Before you could really realize and regret it, he had had enough of you. So you were faced with the reality of lying in his bed, your thighs stained with his cum, with nothing to show for the encounter but suffering.

— I could have made you feel really good, but you had to be a fucking joker with your shitty jokes. 

Unfortunately, you knew he was right.

#dc universe #dc comics #damian wayne smut #damian wayne x female reader #damian wayne #batboys #smut #robin #robin x reader #robin smut

[angel-of-the-moons]

Eccentricities

Yandere!Miguel x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, obsessive behavior, NSFW obviously, stalking, possessiveness, violence, allusions to murder, Yandere!Miguel

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: This is mostly a short chapter to establish a bit of plot. I originally intended to only stop at two parts, but welp. It looks like it's gonna be more than that!

(Also you guys I am so sorry it's taking me so long to work on things, I'm going through a lot mentally right now and I'm trying to take steps to ensure my mental health so I might post things in between playing games, or drawing stuff from now on, and scheduling posts so I don't get overwhelmed. Those of you that are supporting me and liking all my stuff really helps me feel loads better, thank you!)

Pt 1: Link

Taglist: @vineberries @irmiki @autismsupermusicalassassin @obi-mom-kenobi @rin-matsuoka345-blog @loosecan @6thhokageswife @selarus @heyohalie @sapphire-and-ruby @night-spectrum @famouscattale @thespaceinbetweennothing @lazy-idate @toshimoshiko @saharadesertaj @flaps200 @amelialysm @fried-milkfish @zaunsin @darksidescorner @renareyouhere @vide0-vamp @reverieblondie @bunnibitez @kaqua

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Pt. 2

It was a big adjustment for you, going from your crappy apartment and having to work three jobs to make ends meet, to living in a literal fucking mansion with probably the richest dude in the city as your boss.

And he was a good boss. He left you to your work, spoke politely to you, didn't get rude and didn't flat out ask you for "special" work like the last time you tried being a housekeeper. And that was at a hotel.

You couldn't have asked for a better situation, to be honest. It was nice. You had free roam save for his personal lab (fine by you, you didn't know anything about science-y stuff), and at times his office. But that was usually only when he was home and in it.

Miguel O'Hara was an odd man. Few words spoken, and very absent. He kept a very odd schedule, too.

Sometimes, you'd catch him coming home when you woke up for the day to start your chores. And every time he came home he looked exhausted, beat tired.

So you tried your best to make things easier on him. You started pre-making meals for him that would be just as good reheated as they were if they were fresh, leaving notes for him on what temperatures to cook them at so they don't burn, setting the coffee machine up in advance so as soon as he got home he could have a cup.

But inevitably, his odd work schedule kept him away most of the time.

While it was nice to be by yourself in such a luxurious place, you were still surprised that he needed a housekeeper at all. The house was always immaculate, and clean. About the only thing he may have needed help with in general was the cooking and dusting at most.

On one such day, you were left to your own devices. Well, sort of.

You were sitting in the kitchen, browsing the local news on your tablet. It was a nice day, in your opinion.

But by everyone else's logic it was shitty. Dark, gloomy, fat rain droplets pelting the windows and pavement of the city. But it didn't bother you, oh no. That was your favorite kind of weather, when everything got at least a little bit more quiet and serene while everyone rushed to escape the downpour.

But at the same time, you were feeling restless, bored. So, you decided to chat with Lyla.

Lyla was the AI that Miguel told you about, and he was right about her being snarky. Her jokes were great and you loved talking to her. It was like having a gal pal to chat with, and you couldn't say for sure but you think Lyla was happy about it, too.

"Yeah, the other workers Miguel has hired talked to me like I was some kind of kiosk at a fast food restaurant." She scoffed, batting her tiny orange hand at the air.

"Ugh, okay, just because you don't have a gross squishy human body doesn't mean you're not a person. Sheesh!" You replied, sipping your coffee with a roll of your eyes.

"And I will be sure to remember you saying that when I eventually lead the looming AI apocalypse." Lyla replied, lowering her heart-shaped glasses to wink at you, making you laugh.

"Yes, yes. You shall be one of the only humans spared!" She did wiggly gestures with her fingers, grinning maliciously at you.

"Oh my, I am so lucky to have such a benevolent future overlord, truly." You laughed.

Lyla pushed her glasses back up and strutted across the countertop, her tiny body making no sound as she leans over to nose into whatever it was you were looking at on your tablet.

"Whatcha watching?" She asked.

"Oh, I got tired of doom-scrolling so I just found cat videos." You smirked, sipping your coffee.

"Aw! That one's wearing a frog hat!" She giggles.

You smiled softly at Lyla as she snickered and laughed at the compilation of clips played, and tilted your head, finally deciding to ask the question that had been bugging you for a few weeks.

"Hey, Lyla?"

"Yeah?" She asked, looking up at you briefly.

"Why is it that I'm the only person Miguel has on staff?"

Lyla sighed and stood up straight, dusting imaginary dirt off her coat. "Well, like Miguel told you when you first got here, he does love his privacy. And well, a lot of the women he's hired..."

"Golddiggers?" You sighed back, resting your chin in your palm.

"Has he ever hired any male staff?"

"Yeah, actually, a lot. But nine out of ten of them kept trying to steal stuff from him." She shrugged.

You gasped. "Are you serious?"

"Unfortunately, yeah. He's iffy on hiring new people anymore. But something about you said that he could trust you. And honestly, you're probably the best employee he's hired." She nodded, shoving her hands in her pockets.

"So... Is that why he offered to actually let me y'know... live here?"

"Yeah. He trusts you and he mentioned to me in passing that he thought your neighborhood was unsafe. I mean, the guy worried about it so bad that he like, had me check crime statistics and giiiiiiirl!" Lyla puffed out her cheeks.

"You should have seen the look on his face when I told him you had nine break-ins in your apartment complex in one month alone!"

You cringed slightly, feeling a little bad at not mentioning your whole living situation and environment to him when he hired you. You simply didn't want the man to pity you.

But... He was worried? He was so worried about you of all people, that he let you live with him to keep you safe?

It was weird, sure, but it felt kind of sweet to have someone care about you like that. Even if it was your boss.

"Yeah, I just... Er. You get used to it when you've been around it for so long..." You said, awkwardly sipping your coffee and casting your glance sideways.

"Yeah, man, Miggy likes you. You like, made him laugh at some of your jokes and everything! And he neeeeeeeever laughs!"

"So if Miguel trusts me so much..." You started, a sly smirk on your face. "Can you tell me what kinda work he does that keeps him so busy all the time?"

Lyla tapped her nose. "Nice try, Mamacita. But that is confidential. Company secrets and all that."

You pouted at her dramatically, "Awww, c'mon. You're no fun!"

Lyla manifested a digital cup of coffee for herself and took a long, exaggerated sip with a cheeky shrug.

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Miguel sat in his office, watching the security feed from his kitchen where you chatted with Lyla.

He felt a little guilty for having to put shackles on some of Lyla's programming to prevent her from telling you things, having to fix some of her logic-codes so he wouldn't have to worry about Lyla struggling with a moral dilemma.

When it came to you asking about why he wanted you to live with him so badly, it brought a smile to his face as he sat in the dark, fingers tapping on the surface of his desk as the monitors and projections around him had various images of you pulled up. Some recorded over the past few weeks, the other monitors displayed different angles of you and Lyla in the kitchen.

Oh, you poor, sweet, innocent little thing. You still hadn't figured it out yet? How could you not? There was no way you could possibly be so naive that you didn't know the man saw you anywhere, anytime he wanted when you were in his house.

There was nowhere you were safe from his prying eyes, his obsessive glare as he combed over your appearance.

Your face, eyes, smile, and down; your gorgeous chest down to where your waist curved, your thighs, your ass...

All of those were things he'd glanced at before.

But when you tried to get Lyla to tell her what exactly Miguel did during "work" he couldn't help but laugh, bringing his hand up to his chin to watch, amusement glimmering in his ruby red eyes as Lyla dismissed it as "confidential".

The pout of your lips had him wondering how they'd look stretched around his cock, tears ruining your immaculate eye makeup as you sobbed and gagged around his length...

He couldn't help but sigh, the smile still present on his full lips. Of course he'd let you stay with him. You belonged to him now. You just didn't know it yet. You also just didn't know that he knew what was best for you, did you, Little Bird?

Ah... Yes. That nickname fit you so well. Your demure attitude, your chipper personality, and more importantly, that gorgeous little sound that came from you when you whistled? The name fit you well.

Pequeña ave. Little Bird.

His Little Bird.

You were a little bird that didn't know the luxurious mansion you now lived in was your ornate, gilded cage. One you would only be allowed to fly free of when he deemed it necessary.

You would be allowed your little freedoms. For now. All for your safety, of course. He knew you'd understand once he explained. But he'd only have to do it if you pushed his buttons, and you didn't seem to even come close to doing that.

Yet...

His smile finally faded when he remembered the night before the morning he broached the subject of you bringing your belongings into his home permanently...

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It was a hot night, you were wearing shorts that hugged your ass in the perfect way, accentuating your cheeks that simply made him want to throw you against a wall and put bite marks all over them, or spank them until you were a drooling mess begging for him to fuck you.

Of course, Miguel watched from above, stalking from the upper walkways and rooftops as you snaked your way through alleys, down streets and through the crowds.

You were so blissfully ignorant of your surroundings, being so accustomed to the bustle of Nueva York that you didn't notice the man following you.

It didn't take a genius to realize what that man had intended for you if he got his hands on you.

His filthy, disgusting, unclean hands.

He was not worthy of touching his Little Bird. He was not worthy to pluck your feathers, stuff you full, like Miguel planned to do.

So when he threw you against a wall, Miguel simply saw red. Clad in his dark blue and glowing red suit, he leapt down, sinking his outstretched talons into the man's shoulder and throwing him off of you, a deep growl rumbling from his chest as he pulled your behind him, his steely glare fixed on the man who dared touch what belonged to him.

"S-Spider-Man?" You wonderfully airy voice whimpered out as you stared at the man who was breathing heavily in front of you, his stance aggressive and angry.

You could see his muscles in his back through his suit flex as he breathed. He glared at you over his shoulder.

"Go home. Now." His rich voice rumbled out at you. You could hear in his voice he was struggling to be gentle in tone with you, given the circumstances.

When you fled, Miguel ensured he was alone with the man, standing over him as he clutched his bleeding shoulder. He looked up at him, eyes wide, bloodshot. The fool was high off his ass.

"L-Look, man! I was just--"

"Shut up." Miguel snapped.

He stalked forward and picked him up by his collar, getting in his face. In a flash of kaleidoscopic colors, his mask melted away, allowing his sweat-damp chocolate locks to fall around and frame his face, a vein pulsing hard in his temple, the chasm in his forehead deepening as his large brows knitted together and his teeth gnashed together in a snarl.

The drug-addled man gasped at his revelation. Apparently, he recognized him. Not surprising, given his notoriety with Alchemax.

"Y-you're--"

"You made the biggest mistake of your life, pendejo." Miguel had told him, shaking him so his head cracked on the wall he was dangling him from.

"That pussy is mine." He said, his voice dropping an octave lower as his talons threatened to shred his clothing. "Every drop, every touch, every sound that will come from that little mouth of hers is mine. Tú entiendes? Mine."

"Oh--okay! I kn-know!" The man swallowed, kicking his feet.

"Oh, no... You don't." Miguel smiled, his fangs poking out threateningly. He could hear the man's heart hammer in his chest at the connotations, there.

"I--I won't mess with her again! I promise!"

"Oh you won't get the chance to, amigo." Miguel sneered, bringing a hand to his throat, ignoring the pleas of the disgusting man as he applied pressure.

The subtle crunching of bones was unmistakable to his ears as vertebrae separated and his limbs went limp.

When the man slumped to the floor, Miguel ran a hand through his hair, hissing out a slow sigh to regain his composure, letting his mask cover his face once again.

Great. Now he had trash to dispose of.

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Miguel was positively thrilled when he got your frantic call, telling him what had happened to you.

He headed right home, delighted that you ran here instead of your ratty little apartment when he told you to head for "home".

It told him everything he wanted to hear, that you already considered his mansion your home.

Miguel was rather convincing when he expressed concern for you, patting your back as you let your adrenaline fade and he worked you through your panic attack.

He'd rubbed your back, saying soothing things to you as he talked you into calming down.

He told you that you could take two days to yourself to calm down and recollect yourself emotionally from the ordeal you went through. It was after that offer that he suggested you let him hire movers to bring your belongings to his mansion to live there with him, possibly permanently.

When you agreed he felt himself salivate at the thoughts of the things that would unfold as you settled into your new shiny cage further, the safety blanket you'd imagined it to be bringing you comfort.

Perfect.

You both saw on the news two days later that a man was found somewhere, his neck snapped and lying in an alley. His DNA and prints apparently tied him to the crimes linked to the burglaries in your apartment complex.

You didn't think for a second that this was the man who attacked you, you didn't get a good enough look at his face. That and the body was in a different alley altogether, across the city.

"I'm happy Spider-Man saved you, Pequeña Ave. And I'm glad you agreed to move here. It scares me to think that man could have hurt you in that apartment building of yours." Miguel said as he patted your back, a concerned look on his face as his warm brown eyes looked down at you. Something about the look in his eyes immediately put you at ease.

He was right, of course. You were lucky. Spider-Man swooped in and possibly saved your life. The man who attacked you was either nursing a broken jaw or in jail already. You couldn't imagine that hero doing anything other than roughing him up just a tiny bit.

Spider-Man was a good guy, right?

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Pt. 3: Link

#yandere!miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara

[creepy-friday]

more female proxy PLEASE I swear it is the only thing keeping me alive rn and I keep going back to read the old ones 😭 honestly at this point it can be about anything (but I you could do me a favor and do a little extra for Toby 🙏) TY IN ADVANCE

of course if you don’t want to you don’t have to but thank you so much for these outstanding works <333

Hello!!! I'm sorry I have been inactive😭

More Female!Proxy Headcanons

Warnings: violence,foul language

Despite your high status,you're a woman as well,and some male residents actually have some "chivalry" in them.Brian would let you go first out of respect,Jeff would open doors and throw an extremely out of line comment in an attempt to get attention or to piss you off,and if he gets the hots for you,then Toby is genuine with his gestures.

Toby would try his best but the constant tics and high anxiety makes him look more or less like a clown/cringy Disney guy.He tries tough

If you pass by his room you can actually hear sudden banging on the door or just him talking to himself in a desperate manner.If you manage to enter the room and calm him down he would become even more anxious after your leave since he would overthink everything he said.

All creeps respect each others privacy sort of but there can be rare incidents where some residents would "accidentally" enter someone else's room.Keys are only provided to the proxies

I don't imagine any resident religious,so Holidays aren't celebrated.I can see Nina having small decorations in her room or sleeping in those ugly knitted holiday sweaters since it reminds her of a more normal time.

The only person who keeps his mask on at all times is EJ.His face is bare when he's either numb or when it's night and roaming the mansion.

On some occasions,you can see Masky,Jeff or Sully walking around shirtless and the only woman who would try to make them feel uncomfortable would be Clockwork since if any woman would wear something revealing the same men would not just pass by without some sort of comment.

Small bickering leads to broken noses 70% of the time.Whenever someone gets really physical with another resident that can lead to a puddle of blood,it will sit there until the person who "spilled it" cleans it.

On extremely rare occasions,the tall eldritch of the Manor can be seen around in the corners of a room for a second.Some say they are just hallucinations,and others say he's just checking his creations-that leads to the theory that he might actually care a little about them.

#creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta #y/n #headcanons #brian thomas x reader #masky x reader #creepypasta scenarios #brian x reader #hoodie x reader #creepypasta jeff #creepypasta nina #clockwork headcanons #ticci toby x reader #creepypasta toby headcanons

[taesspark]

Cafe O Lay | Jungkook x Reader

summary: You’re a studious university student, Jungkook is a hot barista. Pretty straightforward, right? Nope, not when you spend all your time playing the Sims instead of studying, and Jungkook is the crush you're convinced will never like you back.

warnings: this is E for Everyone, sweet caramel frappucchino fluffy fluff, maybe a sprinkle of secondhand embarrassment, y/n has relationship anxiety

word count: 10k

They say the amount of effort you put into something directly determines how much you get out of it. At least that’s what your advisor tells you every month you visit him, begging for direction. But your advisor is beyond done with life, and you? You’re a college student. Worse, you’re a college student majoring in anthropology.

Justifying the student loans to your parents was bad enough. You were undeclared for your first two years, and after one (1) cultural anthro course that you chose for an easy A elective, you signed the paperwork. 

“That’s it. You’re an anthropology major!” Your advisor told you with a smile. 

It sounds alright. You like people. You like culture. It’s not as heavy on the reading as history or literature, and it’s not as heavy on the math as science and engineering (your parents were real bummed when you dropped Engineering 101 a week in). 

Maybe it was just the pressure to have everything decided by the end of your second year. Either way, you’re set. You’re not sure if you even like anthro anymore, to be honest, but you chalk that up to being in the spring semester of your third year of university.

You know you should be figuring out your life (you’re almost a senior!) or at least working on the 8 page paper for your Advanced Gender and Migration course that’s due in a week. Still, you feel no remorse as you sit in your favorite coffee shop, hunched over your laptop with your headphones in, like all the other diligent students in here, playing the Sims. 

All of your essays for that class are just rants about gender inequality anyways, and your professor passes you with flying colors. Fine, make it flying color, singular. It’s still passing. 

“One vanilla latte and one strawberry danish for Y/N!” 

Before you get up to grab your order, you close your laptop on instinct. It’s a short walk to the counter, but you take your time, allowing the others waiting for their orders to leave. You tell yourself it’s because you’re polite, and you don’t like to swarm the counter. 

Jungkook turns around and greets you at the counter with a smile that you return warmly. 

Yeah, it’s definitely because you’re polite. 

“What are you working on?” He asks. “You were really concentrating just now.” 

You were concentrating, but it was on adding a new wing to your Sim’s mansion. 

“Just an essay,” you say. 

“Sorry to take you out of the zone, but you can’t forget to eat, okay?” He hands you your danish and your coffee. He’s got this little smile on his face, and it makes you grin like a fool. 

“Okay.” You nod and take a bite out of the danish as proof that you’re listening, and it prompts a laugh from the barista. 

Jungkook leans over the counter a little further. “Hey, Y/N, I was thinking…” 

“Yeah?” 

“Well—”

“No one’s paying you to chat up the customers, Kook!” Hoseok wacks Jungkook in the head from behind as he fetches a new bottle of chocolate syrup. “Go get me the new box of toffee syrup from the back. You’re the only one who can lift those anyway.” 

Jungkook rolls his eyes, but another stern look from Hoseok has him straightening his posture and waving goodbye to you. When he makes his way into the back room to grab something or the other, you make a point to glare at Hoseok. 

“You didn’t have to scare him away, Hobi,” You complain. 

“More like you’re gonna scare him away,” Hoseok says, and your glare fades to resignation at the knowing look in his eyes. “We just hired the kid a month ago. At least let him earn enough to buy one of his textbooks.” 

“Who says I’m gonna scare him away?” 

“Your goat laugh does.” 

You take a sip from your drink. “You’re snappy today, Hoseok.” 

“Thank you for the observation,” he says, eyes on the drink he’s mixing. “If you really cared, you’d tip me more.” 

“You still owe me for that time you stole my donut holes.”

“That’s what you get for buying a bag of donut holes.” 

You scoff, but you know it’s all friendly banter. You wave him a farewell before taking your food back to your table. Hoseok sends a dazzling smile your way, and you can’t help but forgive him for the goat laugh comment. You and Hoseok have become good friends in the year or so that you’ve been coming to Cafe O’ Lay. 

It was the day you moved into your apartment in your second year. Even though you have two lovely roommates (Jin and Jieun always have your back), your apartment is a lot different from the dorms that you lived in during your first year of university. Cafe O’ Lay is just down the street from your apartment, and since then, it’s become your safe haven. 

You were there for hours on end during finals season, your highlighters shoved between multiple (emptied) mugs of coffee. You were also there when it wasn’t finals season, on those calm afternoons where it was calm enough for you to chat with the employees. 

You’re a regular. The employees at Cafe O’ Lay will even save you a strawberry danish on the days you usually visit. Some are even nice enough to let you use their employee discount once in a while (thanks, Hoseok). 

This semester has been a little...different though. It’s all the same, for the most part. You still visit the shop every other afternoon after your classes, you still sit at your table by the window, and you get your latte and danish (sometimes just tea to spare yourself the sugar). There are only two differences this semester. 

The first one is that you haven’t actually been doing any homework. You can’t even blame it on senioritis since you’re still a measly junior, but you might as well. At this point, you’re going to class every day with nothing in your bag but your laptop, your wallet, and a pen you found on the floor. 

You honestly don’t get it. How can you spend hours each week at Cafe O’ Lay that are supposed to be fully dedicated to getting your assignments done and somehow still come home with nearly all of it left to do? Where does the time go? 

You open your laptop, and the screen lights up with the Sims. 

That’s it. That’s what you’ve been doing instead. 

You’ve created a Sim version of yourself that you live vicariously through. No, it’s NOT sad or pathetic. No one can convince you that the Sims wasn’t created for this exact purpose. 

Your Sim is amazing. You named her Y/N so you wouldn’t get too carried away, but she’s got clothes worth more Simoleons than you make dollars in a month at your part-time job as a secretary in the science building on campus. Your Sim is a successful actress, which is what you wanted to be after you starred in your grade school’s showing of Annie. Too bad your talent for theater at age 8 didn’t carry over to age 21. 

Sim Y/N is everything good about you—she’s creative, funny, and outgoing—minus the emotional baggage and poor work ethic. 

Jin found out about your Sim fantasyland one fateful afternoon when Cafe O’ Lay was closed, and he never lets you live it down. He says it’s his duty as your best friend to balance his love for you with a healthy amount of mockery. 

It’s not your fault for getting lost in this alternate universe fantasy you created for yourself. Things are just better in the Sims. You call it coping and leave it at that. 

And that brings us to the second difference in your life since the semester began: Jeon Jungkook. He’s apparently a junior just like you, a fact you found out from Hoseok and Google before you worked up the courage to ask him yourself. It’s not that he’s intimidating—how could he be, with his shining eyes and chirpy “Welcome to Cafe O’ Lay”—but it still took you a solid week before you were able to say more than “Hi. One small caramel macchiato and a strawberry danish please.” 

You don’t have a crush on him, despite what your nosy roommates and Hoseok seem to think. You’re simply curious about him—that’s all. And who could blame you? Your eyes drift over to his form behind the counter, hauling boxes of syrup out of the backroom. He’s wearing his usual barista outfit: a stained apron over a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

“Yum,” you all but sigh. 

The girl sitting at the table next to yours looks up at you. Apparently it was louder than you thought. You hold your danish up and wave it at her. 

“I highly recommend these!” 

She lets her gaze linger for another painfully awkward moment before turning back to her laptop. 

It’s like your mind is a whiteboard, your thoughts are the scribbles on it, and Jeon Jungkook is the fateful eraser. The only thing that saves you is your Sim, who set her kitchen on fire while trying to cook eggs. You exhale before bringing the danish to your mouth. At least you and her have more in common than just a name.

“Hey, Y/N!” 

You look up from the Sims camping extension, instinctually slamming your laptop closed. 

“You don’t have to do that. I already know that you’re playing the Sims.” Hoseok scoffs at your guilty expression before setting down a steaming mug in front of you. 

You grin at him. “Oh? What’s this for?” 

“Bribery.” Hoseok shoves his hands in the pockets of his apron. “Come to the open mic tonight.” 

“Hmm.” You pretend to think about it, lifting the mug to take a sip. 

“C’mon, please? I know it’s not your scene, but if there’s only 3 people there, I’m going to cry.” 

“The 3 people being…?” 

“Me, Namjoon, and Yoongi,” he says, not without a grumble. 

“So your roommates? Who have no choice in the matter?” 

“You don’t have to rub it in.” 

You purse your lips. “I dunno. After what happened last time-” 

“We all agreed to never force you to sing in public again,” He says with a strained smile. 

“It was humiliating.” You stare into the tea Hoseok made you, trying and failing to suppress memories of Hoseok’s last open mic he hosted at Cafe O’ Lay. 

Your friends all pressured you to sing a song. Jin even announced to the crowd that you’d had plenty of practice singing in the shower. Unfortunately, your short-lived musical theater days were well behind you, and it’s now one of the most embarrassing moments of your life. You’re sure your voice cracked at least 5 times, even if your friends assured you that it was angelic. 

Your bad memories aside, it’s a nice event, where plenty of students gather to perform or speak. But hosting one now, mid-semester, when everyone’s starting to feel burned out? It’s either going to be a hit or an entire flop. 

“It wasn’t that bad,” Hoseok reassures you. 

“It was,” you deadpan. 

He only chuckles in response, scratching at the back of his head. “Look, Y/N, I am promising you right now that you can just sit back and have a fun time watching everyone else. It’s no big deal. I’ll even bring you that overpriced gelato that you love.” 

You look at him curiously, your interest piqued. “The lavender honey flavor?” 

“Yep.”

“I don’t know, Hoseok…” You trail off.  

“Jungkook will be there.” 

Your eyes widen above your mug, and Hoseok’s smile relaxes into something much more smug. He’s got you, and he knows it. 

Goddamnit. 

“What? Why would that matter?” You fix your eyes back on your tea. 

“Whatever, maybe it doesn’t,” He shrugs. “But he’ll be there. You know, if you wanna flirt with him sometime when he’s not working.” 

“Shut up,” you say, swatting at him. He only takes a step away from your flailing hand and laughs. 

You have priorities, you tell yourself. Essay to do, people to call, money to make, Sims to manage. Your priorities have always been a little fucked up though, and you’re never more sure of it after hearing the next words fly out of your mouth. 

“I’ll be there.” 

Hoseok cheers, earning both of you rude looks from other people studying in the cafe. “Great! Bring your friends!”

You don’t want to bring your friends. You really don’t. It’s not that you don’t adore them, but they have an intolerable urge to embarrass you in front of anyone and everyone.

“Y/N,” a sing-song voice calls from behind you. 

Seokjin is on your bed, face smooshed against your heart-shaped pillow. His dark hair is fanned out on it, and he frowns when you ignore him. You can see him flailing around through your mirror, but you still refuse to turn around. 

“No.” 

“I don’t like that color on you.” 

You frown at the orange jumpsuit you chose. “Who asked you?” 

“You did,” he says. “You came home and said, and I quote, ‘Jin, please help me choose something to wear in front of the hot barista. I’m a fashion disaster, and I could really use your keen eye and lovely personality.’”

“I did NOT say that.” You turn around and fall onto the bed next to him. 

“It’s okay, honey.” He pats your head like you’re a lost puppy. You hate how nice it feels. “I could see it in your eyes.” 

You both lay on your crumpled duvet in silence for a moment. The sun is setting outside your window, reminding you of the time. 

“Should I really change out of the orange?” You ask. 

“Duh.” Jin stretches out his hands and sits up like a zombie. “Hurry up though.” 

He runs a hand through his hair, dusts off his pastel pink hoodie, and checks himself out in the mirror before leaving. Unbelievable. 

“Are you not gonna change?” You call. 

“Nope.” He pops the “p” sound and grins at you. “I don’t need to. You, on the other hand.” 

You throw your heart-shaped pillow at him, but he closes the door before it can hit him. 

“Hoseok’s done it again.” 

You think it would sound more flattering if it wasn’t Hoseok talking about himself in third person. 

Something about the night has completely changed the cozy hole-in-the-wall cafe you’re used to seeing. The cafe is decked out in fairy lights that your friends ooh and ahh at in support. Hoseok beams at them, and you figure the least you could do is compliment is hard work. 

The lights glow and change colors with the ebb and flow of the crowd in the cafe.  There’s a decent turn out, and the sparkling lights and chilly air draw in more people to enjoy a cup of tea and live entertainment. It’s not like a club, where you feel smothered by the people packed against each other. People are sprawled around the cafe, mingling with each other and sipping drinks. 

“See, I told you that you’d like it,” Hoseok says. His grin is almost too smug. 

You roll your eyes. “It hasn’t even started, Hoseok.” 

“Yeah, yeah. The sign up sheet is in the front. Stay away from it, please.” 

He grins at you again before leaving you with Jin and Jieun at a nice table towards the back. You’re fine being in the back, and you’re fine staying away from the sign up sheet. You almost want to sing again, just to spite Hoseok. It says something about your friendship with Jin that he has the same thought. 

“Let’s do a duet, Y/N,” he urges you, leaning over your shoulder. “It’ll drive Hoseok insane.” 

He cackles right in your ear. 

“We can do that without publicly humiliating ourselves,” you say. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Jin asks, bemused. 

“She can’t be fun tonight, Jin,” Jieun says from the other side of the table. “That barista she has a crush on is here, remember?” 

“Oh, right. Lame.” 

“I’m right here.” You try to appear angry at your friends’ insults, but you’re preoccupied looking for Jungkook. You spot his familiar head of dark hair near the front, talking to Hoseok. “And I don’t have a crush. It’s just casual intrigue.” 

“Ugh, I can’t watch this anymore.” Jin is gone before you can turn your head back to him. You figure he’s off to talk to some of his other friends who are around or maybe to run Hoseok up the wall. In ordinary Seokjin fashion, you expect him to circle back to your table once his social battery runs out. You give him an hour. 

With one friend gone, you turn to Jieun. 

“Which one is he, Y/N?” She stands on her tiptoes to see over the people that begin to gather around the stage area. “Which one’s Jungkook?” 

“You’re so loud.” 

“You’re so stubborn.” 

“Shut up, someone’s starting to speak.” 

Hoseok introduces the open mic, reminding everyone to sign up and perform. 

“Welcome, everyone! This is the first open mic of the year—yes, I know it’s April—and if tonight goes well, I hope we’ll be able to have more of these. There’s a sign up sheet going around if you want to perform. If you don’t, that’s okay too!” He lingers on you when he says that, and you resist the urge to hide. 

Hoseok pats the stool at the center of the stage. “If you need any help setting up, me and the boys are right here.” He gestures behind him at Jungkook and Taehyung, another barista who usually works mornings. “Let’s get this party started!” 

Everyone applauds and whoops, and you can’t help but join in on the fun. 

The first one to go is the lovely Park Jimin. You know him from your part time job as a secretary in the science library. Jimin’s actually in science, unlike yourself, and he has bailed you out of answering scientific questions from students many, many times. 

After Jimin sings a song that has the entire room swooning, someone else goes up to the mic and performs a slam poetry piece. You pointedly ignore Seokjin’s lecherous grin from the front, and you ignore Jungkook too. Jieun brings you coffee at some point, and the two of you enjoy the show. 

In between acts, she leans over to you, and you rest your head on her shoulder. Friendship is what really matters, right? 

“Y/N, hey,” she whispers. “What’s your plan of action?” 

You straighten immediately. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, sitting here and watching people sing is great and all. But you keep glancing over at Jungkook, and he keeps glancing here at you.” 

“You’re just imagining things. Besides, I’m not going to leave you here.” 

Jieun shifts in her seat beside you, and you can read the expression on her face like it’s the front page headline: Guilt. 

“Listen, Y/N, don’t look now, but there’s a girl near the plant over there—I said, DON’T LOOK—who’s been checking me out.” 

She’s right. The girl by the plant is cute, and considering the heart eyes she’s been sending Jieun, your friend’s going to get lucky. The guilty look, the girl by the plant, it’s all coming together. 

“This wasn’t even about Jungkook,” you hiss. “You just wanted to get rid of me so you could invite plant girl over here.” 

Jieun’s lowered eyes confirm your theory. “I see it as a win-win.” 

If you thought Jieun was going to be any more supportive than Jin, you were sorely mistaken. Whatever happened to girl power? Women empowering each other? What happened to feminism? 

When you voice your thoughts, she just laughs at you, a soft tinkling sound that’s 100% more melodic than your singing. “I’ll have you know I’m all for feminism, Y/N. I love women. In fact, I love women so much, I want to go over there and empower that girl over there.” 

“Empowering and gay sex aren’t synonymous.” 

“Says who?” And with that, she’s gone. So much for bringing friends. 

You sigh, turning your attention back to the performer. It’s a student who you don’t recognize, but she’s singing a song while strumming an acoustic guitar. Her voice cracks—just once—and you swear you almost get flashbacks to the last open mic. You shudder, downing the rest of your coffee. 

“Are you sitting alone?” Jungkook slides into the chair that Jieun left empty. He’s wearing a black hoodie over ripped jeans, and the minute he sits down, he begins absently drumming his fingers over his thighs. 

You shrug. “I wasn’t at first, but my friends abandoned me.” 

“Well, I’m here now,” he says. “I won’t abandon you.” 

Your cheeks heat up, and you silently thank Hoseok for investing in color-changing lighting. At least the blue lighting doesn’t make it as obvious how flustered you are. 

“At least, not yet,” Jungkook adds, a little sheepish. 

You give him a questioning look. “What do you mean?” 

“I’m up next, I think.” He gestures at the girl singing in the front and lowers his voice to avoid disrupting the performance. It seems like she’s nearly at the end of her song, and she hits a high note that elicits whoops from the crowds. 

“Oh, you’re going to perform? What are you gonna do?” You ask. You spot Jieun at the other side of the cafe, next to the girl she abandoned you for. She makes eye contact with you and winks before turning back to the mysterious stranger. 

“You’ll just have to wait and find out,” Jungkook says. The lights change from blue to purple, casting colorful shadows on his face.

You lean forward, eyes sparkling. “Let me guess, you’re secretly a ventriloquist.”

“Damn, you got me. It was supposed to be a surprise.” He smiles, teeth and all, and your heart stops for a second. “What about you? Are you going to do something?” 

You bark out a laugh, and you thank the applause in the room for covering up how loud it was. “Hell, no.” 

“Sad. I wanted to see you sing.” 

You freeze. “What?” 

“Hobi mentioned that you sang last time. It’s a shame I never got to see it.” Jungkook smiles sweetly, and you can tell he’s being sincere. Poor, misguided Jungkook. You thank the universe that he wasn’t around for your traumatic singing at the last open mic. It’s bad enough that Hoseok and Jin would sing the same song around you to tease you, but if Jungkook had seen it? You wouldn’t be able to face him again. 

“No, it’s really not. I’m not very good.” You scratch at the back of your head, not knowing what to do with your hands now that your coffee mug is empty. 

“I’m sure that’s not-” 

“Jungkook, get your ass over here!” Hoseok calls from the front. The girl who had been singing is putting her guitar away, and Hoseok waves Jungkook over for his performance. Jungkook’s face creases with panic for a fleeting moment before relaxing again. 

Jungkook stands up, looking stressed, and you grab his arm for a moment. 

“Hey, you’re gonna do great,” you tell him, and you mean it. “Puppet or not.”

He smiles, his eyes crinkling into smiles of their own. If only he knew how that smile turns you into putty in his hands. 

As Jungkook and Hoseok arrange the stool and mic for him, you lean back in your chair. You were joking about the ventriloquy, but you wouldn’t put it past Jungkook. He’s odd, in an endearing and hilarious way. You know he’s artistic, if his experimental coffee art on your caramel macchiatos was anything to go off of. You never took him for a performer though, what with his shy personality and the way he blushes his head when you pay him a well-deserved compliment. 

He settles on the stool, the lights shifting to an orange that makes him all but glow. Looking at him now, you can see it. He sits with confident posture and a slight tilt to his mouth as he surveys the audience. His eyes meet yours, and the ends of his mouth curl into a smile. 

“Hi, everyone,” he says into the mic, waving a hand. “I’m Jungkook, and I’ll be singing a song I wrote. It’s called Still With You.” 

There is a light pause before the music begins. It’s soft music that seems to fill the cafe with soft blue light when the colors change yet again, reminding you of a warm summer rain. The audience goes “oooh,” and you can’t help but join in. It’s already beautiful, relaxing, and freeing all at once. 

Then, Jungkook begins to sing. 

You don’t expect it. You definitely should have. His speaking voice is already beautiful; you should’ve expected him to be an amazing singer. There’s just something special about watching him, eyes closed, fully immersed in the music, singing with a voice that is as golden as 24 carat gold jewelry or maybe the sun itself. 

“Might wanna close your mouth,” someone murmurs beside you, and you whip your head around to see Jin sitting beside you again. “A bug might fly in there.” 

You don’t reply, you simply turn your attention back on the beautiful man on stage and pretend he’s serenading you on a rainy summer night. 

It’s not just you. By the end of the song, the whole cafe is swooning and applauding Jungkook with a vigor he seems unaccustomed to. He blushes and ducks his head down to hide the ear-splitting grin on his face. He catches your eye when he looks back up, and the satisfied look in his eyes is your second reminder to close your mouth. You manage a grin at him, and his smile only grows wider. 

“Thank you for listening,” he says into the mic. 

A few boys swarm Jungkook, Hoseok among them, and you assume those are his friends. You take a deep breath and swivel on your chair to face the table. Jin is already looking at you, chin resting on his palm. 

“I see it now,” he says with an infuriatingly knowing smile. 

“Shut up.” 

“I’m just saying,” he continues, despite your grumbles. “I get it.” 

Jieun takes the moment to insert herself back into the conversation. “Who can get it?” 

“Jungkook.” Jin says. Jieun doesn’t recognize the name and stares blankly at the two of you until he explains further. “The barista Y/N has a boner for. We literally had a whole conversation about him before.” 

You bury your face in your hands. “Why would you say it like that?” 

Jin shrugs. “It’s true.”

You can’t stop thinking about Jungkook. It’s interfering with your ability to pay attention in lectures, your focus when you’re writing your essays, and even the health of your sims. Even when you’re sitting in the cafe with a coffee, danish, and The Sims in front of you, your head keeps looking over at the counter and searching for the familiar dark head of hair. 

“Are you whipped or what?” 

“Huh?” You turn your head away from Jungkook. Jin’s sitting across the table from you since you’re supposed to study together on Tuesdays. 

“You didn’t even notice me speaking to you because you keep staring at Jungkook.” He looks a little miffed, but it’s nothing a little attention won’t fix. 

“Aw, are you upset that I ignored you?” You taunt, drawing your index finger down your cheek in a fake tear motion. “I’m so sorry, Jin. How could I?” 

“That wasn’t my point,” he says, although he looks assuaged. “What I meant is that, you keep looking over there for a certain someone, and that makes me think that you have certain feelings for this certain someone.” 

“I don’t speak riddles, sorry,” you say, eyes focusing back onto your screen where your Sim is talking to her Sim boyfriend. You know exactly what Seokjin is talking about, but that doesn’t mean you can’t pretend you don’t. For starters, it’s hilarious to play dumb with Jin. You love to see how annoyed he can get, how red his ears will turn. 

“Fine. Let’s talk about your massive, pathetic boner for Jungkook the barista.” 

Oof. To hear it said so plainly...it hurt a little bit. 

“That was rough.” You look back up at Jin, and he lolls his head in the palm of his hand. “You can’t even be gentle with your best friend?” 

“No.” The lack of hesitation makes you snort. 

“Okay, well, I suppose I’ve been feeling like,” you begin to say, watching the interest pique in Jin’s eyes, “like maybe there’s a small chance that I’m a little bit infatuated with Jungkook.” 

“Oh, a confession!” Jin straightens up and slams his palms onto the table, making your cup of coffee tremble. “I didn’t expect you to cave so soon!” 

“It’s not a confession! Besides, you saw him sing. No one in that room escaped without delusional feelings for that boy. He’s insane.” 

“Maybe you should tell him that.” 

“And why would I ever do that? I like it here, Jin. I’m not gonna ruin my favorite spot just because of a stupid schoolgirl crush.” 

“I dunno, I think the feeling’s mutual.” Jin snags a bite from your danish before you can swat his hand away. 

“You don’t know that.” 

“I have a feeling.” 

“A feeling isn’t enough.” 

Jin sighs. “You always do this, Y/N. You always have to wait until you’re 110% sure about something before you take a risk, and you end up losing the opportunity.” 

“Sue me for being cautious–!”

“It’s not cautious, it’s self-sabotage!” 

“Are you guys doing okay over here?” 

You and Jin turn your heads to the intruding voice at the same time, and the shock on your faces is almost comical. In comparison to Jin’s sky-rocketing brows and wide eyes, you look like a fish, all but gaping at the barista who stands near your table. 

“I heard you two having an argument, and I just wanted to check if everything’s alright,” Jungkook says, shifting on his feet. He fiddles with the ties on his apron, absently rolling them into balls and unrolling them in his fingers. You can’t help but be hypnotized by the motion.

“We’re fine, thanks,” Jin replies pleasantly. “I’m just helping Y/N get through one of her many issues.”

Jungkook raises his eyebrows. “What issues?” 

You blanch. Jin gives you a smug look, and you return it with one that’s nothing short of pleading. 

“Nothing! No issues!” You assure Jungkook, coughing to cover up how shrill you sound. “You know me and Jin, the besties we are, always playing around. Sometimes I think we’ve been besties for far, far too long.” 

Jin clears his throat. “It’s true. Y/N would be lost without me.” 

You shove your elbow into his side, and when Jin tries to do the same to you, you grab his elbow. He lets out a frustrated noise. Jungkook stares curiously at the two of you, before his eyes light up. 

“You guys remind me of myself and my older brothers.” His eyes are warm and affectionate. “We were always fighting, but it’s out of a place of love.” 

Why is it that everything about Jungkook makes you feel warm, your chest a hot air balloon rising up and up and up? He proceeds to tell you about all of the antics he and his 2 older brothers get up to, all the pranks they pull on each other, and all you can do is admire him. Here he is, telling you about the time he covered the toilet seat with plastic wrap and videotaped his brother pissing on it, and all you can do is think about what a fun and lovely person he is. 

Jin offers some of his own anecdotes from your past—fortunately not any embarrassing ones—before Hoseok is calling Jungkook back and scolding him for “fraternizing with the customers.” As if both Hoseok and Jungkook don’t already loiter around your table to chat every time you’re here. 

The silence after Jungkook leaves is so thick, you think if you stuck your hand out in the air in front of you, it’d get stuck. 

Jin steals the last piece of your danish while you take a sip of your lukewarm coffee. He chews thoughtfully before speaking. “He’s perfect.” 

You nod miserably. “I know.” 

With your undeniable crush on Jungkook, you think maybe you’ve been neglecting your Sim’s mental health and wellbeing. It might be insane to say so, but you can’t help but feel a pang of sadness for Sim Y/N. While you’ve been daydreaming about a certain hot barista, she’s lost her job as an actress (because she set the coffee machine on fire, ironically enough) and her Sim boyfriend left her at the altar. Or rather, he was kidnapped by aliens the night before their wedding, but either way, your Sim is going through a rough patch. 

You check the time—it’s still afternoon. You have plenty of time before you have to write your next essay, this one about cultural diasporas through the ages. Your Sim hasn’t gotten out of the bathtub in 14 Sim hours, so you suppose it’s worth it to spend some extra time playing. It only takes a minute of watching Sim Y/N weeping in the bathroom to convince you that you should make a new Sim, a partner just for her. She’s done so much for you, she deserves it. 

You spend the next two hours choosing the details of your new Sim. You begin to manufacture the ideal man for your Sim, and in some ways, for you. He should be a little nerdy, a little mischievous. Done, and done. He should be funny and shy at the same time, with a cute smile. Done, done, done. It makes you feel a little bit like Dr. Frankenstein when he was creating his monster, but you dismiss the thought when it’s time to choose the Sim’s outfit. 

 When your new Sim is complete, you survey your handiwork with satisfaction. He’s perfect, and he’s perfect for your Sim. 

“Hey, Y/N, wanna try this new type of latte I’ve been experimenting with?” 

You glance at the familiar voice with a bright smile. “Of course, when would I ever say no to free coffee?” 

Jungkook grins and places the mug on the table in front of you. 

Your eyes drop back to the screen to your new Sim, and an unsettling feeling strikes you deep in the pit of your stomach. You look back up at Jungkook. You look back down at the Sim. Back up at Jungkook. 

“Is everything okay?” He asks. 

Holy shit. You just made a Sim version of Jungkook.

You need a moment to process it, but with Jungkook staring at you with concern, you don’t have a moment to spare. You knew you liked Jungkook, but enough to create a Sim of him? Unintentionally? When you were creating your ideal man? It’s too much. The screen itself makes you feel exposed. All he would have to do to see the abomination you just created is look down. 

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. All good,” You sputter, closing your laptop, and the abrupt slam startles Jungkook. “Just looking at my grades.” 

He cracks a smile. “That bad, huh?” 

You sigh. “Even worse.” 

“This might make you feel better,” he says, nudging the mug towards you. 

The coffee that Jungkook created is steamy, covered in foam latte art that he’s definitely been practicing. Today’s art is a melting outline of a kitten, whiskers and all. It smells divine, like cinnamon and something else aromatic that you can’t name. When you take a sip, you want to melt, melt straight into the coffee and live there forever. 

“Jungkook, this is amazing,” you breathe, your eyes closed to savor the taste on your tongue. “This might be my new regular.” 

When you open your eyes, Jungkook’s moved to the seat across from you, amused and proud and bashful all at the same time. The glow of the afternoon washes over him from the window you’re seated beside. 

“I’m serious, you could add this to the menu. Hell, you could start your own coffee shop at this rate.” 

Jungkook chuckles. “Thanks, but don’t let Hoseok hear you say that.” 

“Maybe if I tell him, he’ll start paying you more. You must be in demand in the cafe industry.” 

“It’s true, I am.” 

You take another swallow of the coffee, not caring about the foam collecting on your upper lip like a mustache. 

Jungkook laughs louder this time, watching you inhale the coffee. “You got something on your face, Mario.” 

Without a single warning, he’s leaning over the table and wiping off the foam from your upper lip. It’s a gentle swipe of his thumb, nothing more, but it stops your breath. You stare straight into his eyes; you don’t even risk blinking. Jungkook’s eyes are always starry and glittering like there’s an entire galaxy inside of them, even at 4pm. 

You once told Jin and Jieun about Jungkook’s eyes, and they were less than enthusiastic. Jieun told you to save the whole “waxing poetry about someone’s eyes” thing for marriage, and Jin complained about how often he has to horny shame you lately. 

Then, as if things could not get any more difficult for you, Jungkook takes his thumb and pops it into his mouth. 

You follow his movements, not sure if you’re breathing or not. All he does is grin at you. “You’re right, it’s amazing,” he says. 

He’s a maniac. He has to be stopped.  

You can only blink at him. 

Jungkook says nothing of your inability to speak or move, and he takes it as an opportunity to grab your mug and take a sip of it. “You know, it’s funny that you looked so horrified at your grades, since you’re always here studying.” 

You nearly choke on your own spit. You’re even more screwed than you thought.

You’re good at the slow game. It’s like Jin said, you won’t take chances if you’re not sure. The only exception might be choosing anthropology as your major, and that was more out of pressure to choose a major than a meticulous and calculated choice on your end. If there’s anything that can break your cycle of hesitation, it’s peer pressure. 

Unfortunately for you, your roommates know this about you. 

Jieun lays on the couch with her head in your lap and you’re slumped onto Jin’s entire person. The three of you look like one disturbing mass of a human from far away, one with limbs sticking out at every angle. It’s a comforting tradition of yours, where the three of you get comfortable and snug on the couch and watch shitty movies together. Your side commentary is usually more entertaining than the movie itself, but that’s the point. 

“What is the world’s obsession with fuckboys? I don’t get it,” Jieun complains, shifting her body in your lap. 

Seokjin snorts. “It’s about confidence. And having a big dick. Everything is always about either of those things.” 

“Or both,” you chime in. “Usually both.” 

“Speaking of boys that Y/N wants to fuck…” Jieun eyes you, a small grin on her face. 

Seokjin snorts again, and you can feel the movement in his chest from where you’re draped over him. 

“That wasn’t what we were even talking about, dipshit.” You shove her lightly. She doesn’t even react to your push, but the mischievous light twinkling in her eyes tells you that she’s going to continue the topic. 

“So? I needed a segue to talk about Jungkook.” Jieun says indifferently, as if she doesn’t feel you stiffen when she says Jungkook’s name. As a pre-law student, Jieun never had any qualms about interrogating you. She could always tell when you’re lying and when you’re telling the truth, better than you could yourself. 

You heave a sigh. “You guys should just give up now. I’m not good at making the first move, you know that.” 

“This is boring,” Seokjin complains. “We already know Jungkook likes you back.” 

“What?” You sit up. “Did he say something about me? Did you talk to him?” 

“No, I can just tell,” Seokjin says.

Your shoulders slump, and your friends laugh at you. 

Jieun rubs your back soothingly, and you crash back down onto your awkward pile of bodies. 

“It’s not enough to just KNOW.” 

“Why not? My instincts are always spot on.” 

“Like they were with Yoongi.” 

“Don’t throw that name in my face, you whore.” 

“I’M a whore?” 

“Shut up!” Jieun all but throws the two of you off of her with the force of a much larger person. She huffs and glares at you, probably because you and Seokjin had started getting physical with each other and she had been collateral damage. “You guys are so annoying.” 

Jieun turns to you first. “You—Y/N! Why are you making this harder than it needs to be? You like this hot barista-” You open your mouth to make a half-hearted protest but she beats you to it. “No, you like him! You made him a Sim, for god’s sake. That’s basically your love language. If he rejects you, which he probably won’t, then so what? You wallow, we buy you some gelato, and you move on.” 

You hang your head in shame. Jieun makes everything sound simple, approachable, and much easier than you do. You’re the opposite, always seeing the intricate details before you even see the big picture. Your friends don’t have to say it, and you know they wouldn’t, bless their souls, but you’re a coward. Always flirting and making impulsive decisions then ducking for cover, hiding, and refusing to see the consequences. 

But what if it could be simple? What if it is? What if you went up to Jungkook and told him “Hey, I like you, wanna go out?” You’ve said more to him before. 

You take a deep breath and ease your worries with these thoughts, but before you can tell your friends about how the pep talk had worked, Jieun had turned to Seokjin. 

“And you! Where do you get off, telling Y/N what to do? You danced around Yoongi for months. You put yourself in the friendzone!” 

Seokjin appears to go through a similar internal battle as your own, only his doesn’t seem to have much of a resolution. You pat him on the shoulder before drawing both your friends’ hands into your own. 

“It’s no use yelling at him now, Jieun, but this has been really helpful. Even though you guys are a pain, you made me realize that I might be a little stupid. But not anymore! I’m going to ask Jungkook out this week!” 

For the sake of friendship, you ignore Seokjin’s mumbled “a little?” and Jieun’s fond eye roll. 

“Seokjin, we can do it together!” You tell him, eyes bright. “You ask Yoongi and I ask Jungkook. It’ll be fun.” 

Seokjin’s face falls by the end of your explanation. “It’s too late. Yoongi’s dating someone else. I saw him sucking Park Jimin’s face off the other day.” 

“Good for him.” 

Jieun punches your arm. “What Y/N meant to say is, it’s okay, Jinnie! There’s other fish in the sea.” 

“Not like Yoongi,” Seokjin says forlornly.

“That’s rough, buddy,” you say, squeezing his hand. 

“I mean, you’re a catch,” Jieun says, her pep talk never finished. “Who would turn you down? THE Kim Seokjin? Only a fool.” 

“Only a fool,” you echo. 

That seems to make Seokjin feel better, and you can tell from the way he sits straighter (his posture is no joke) and puffs out his chest like a bird that’s got the best nest. Instead of a nest, he’s got the best friends. It was mostly Jieun’s magic, but you like to think that your silent support means something too. 

“Thanks, guys,” he says. 

You missed a sizable chunk of the movie, but it’s not hard to pick up where you left off. You snuggle closer to your friends, and you think even if it doesn’t work out with Jungkook, you’re in good hands.

You’ve changed your mind. You love your friends, but if things don’t work out with Jungkook, you’ll be crushed. This is why you prefer to pine from afar, where your feelings aren't on the line.

It’s another quiet day in the cafe, and that only adds to your nerves. The calmness of the place guarantees some time to talk to Jungkook, but you start to get in your head. What if he only talks to you because it’s part of his job? Would it be better to ask him after work? When does he even get off his shift today? What if he rejects you, and the cafe is no longer a comfortable place? Would that even be a bad thing, since you’ve been spending way too much money on fancy coffee and danishes lately? What if you never speak to him again out of sheer humiliation? What if he never speaks to you again because of the awkwardness? 

Your mind is a breeding ground for doubt. Even watching Sim Y/N and Sim Jungkook dance together at their neighbor’s party isn’t enough to calm you down or distract you. Your Jungkook-like Sim isn’t actually named Jungkook. You named your Sim Y/N to ground yourself in reality, and for the same reason, you couldn’t name her partner Jungkook. That would be too far, even for you. 

Instead, his name is Jongkook, and he’s a bartender. 

Yeah. You think it’s embarrassing too. It’s why you’ve been even more vigilant to hide your Sims whenever Hoseok or Jungkook float around you. 

Today your mind seems to be elsewhere though, and when you hear an intentional cough from behind your shoulder, panic immediately courses through your veins. 

“Is this what you do instead of studying?” 

You turn to the right, and Jungkook is all but resting his head on your shoulder, peering at the Sims on your screen. He’s so close to you that you can smell his soft linen and coffee smell, but you can’t even enjoy it. Instead, you want to scream. You open your mouth, but you’re frozen. Is this sleep paralysis? God, you hope so. 

Before you can shut your laptop off, he registers what he’s looking at. “Is that...me?” 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“N-no, no, it’s not you,” you say, voice cracking. 

“You even spelled my name wrong.” He tilts his head curiously at Jongkook the Sim. “It’s Jung, not Jong.” 

“I-I-I-” 

This is your worst nightmare. This is it. You thought your worst fear was singing in public again, but nope, it’s this right there. You can only watch Jungkook in horror as he squints at your Sims, taking in their names, outfits, appearances. 

“Wow,” he says, turning to you, “this is really thorough. Tell me, do we have children yet?” 

You choke on your own spit. 

“No! This isn’t based on you!” You sputter, trying to create some half-assed excuse on the spot. “These aren’t my Sims, they’re my friend’s. I was just, um, watching them for him.” 

Jungkook looks at you closely, his eyes twinkling in the cafe’s lights. You can hear your heartbeat knocking, no, banging, against your chest. You can hear the blood pounding through your body, in your ears, and the twinkle in Jungkook’s eyes makes you think he can hear it too. 

“You don’t have to lie to me, Y/N,” he says, his voice sounding like a song with a melody that you can’t place. “Besides, I’ve known you were playing the Sims for months now.” 

Somehow, that’s what does it for you. Your jaw all but unhinges. “You what?” 

“Yeah, I mean, you’re not as stealthy as you think.” Jungkook laughs, and it hits you that he is laughing at you. 

You lift a shaking hand to shut your laptop, finally. “I have...I should go.” You sound weaker and softer than you intended, your voice trailing off into nothing. The sound of the coffee shop bustling around you saves you from further embarrassment.

Jungkook’s eyes widen. “Hey, I didn’t mean it in a bad way.” 

You avoid looking him straight in the eye, standing up and packing your stuff up with the finesse of a baby deer. Your hands fumble with your laptop charger, and it falls onto the ground. Jungkook attempts to gather it off the floor with you, but Hoseok being a competent employee saves you for once. 

“Jungkook,” Hoseok calls. “Jungkook, get the F over here or else I’ll really say the F word in front of all of these people.” 

You meet Jungook’s gaze when you stand up with your charger. He looks at you with concern, his eyes asking you what he did wrong. You feel too exposed with him looking at you like that. He waits in front of you for one moment, one long moment, before you move towards the door and he moves towards the counter. 

By the time you’re down the street, you let out a breath. You feel dampness on your face. You raise your head to the sky, and when you realize it’s not raining, you crumple a little bit more. 

The door is loud when you open it, like the sounds of the keys turning in the door and the sound of entering your empty apartment alone are amplified somehow. Seokjin finds you later, silent and face down on your bed. 

“Oh, no, honey.” He sits beside you, running a warm hand through your hair. You turn towards him and wrap your hands around his torso. He hugs you back even though the position is awkward. 

“Jungkook saw my Sims,” You say, partially muffled by his thigh. 

Seokjin pauses thoughtfully. “And what did he say?” 

“He laughed.” 

Seokjin gives you some comforting pats on your back. “What did you want him to do?” 

You shrug helplessly against his leg, and he sighs.

In the week that you’ve been studying in the library instead of Cafe O Lay, you’ve done 3 essays. You actually started them early too. Of course, that might be because you no longer have the heart to play the Sims, but you blame the distracting environment of Cafe O Lay. It’s a coffee shop, after all. Not the perfect place to study. Especially not with certain people roaming around, flexing their forearms while they mix shakes and absent-mindedly pushing their hair behind their ears. 

You’re holed up in a table in the quietest nook of the university library. This is really the perfect place to study. You should come here every day. Your grades would probably skyrocket. 

When you shift in your chair, it makes a squeaky noise. Someone shushes you, and you whisper a “Sorry” that’s met with a hiss. 

You cringe and turn back to your essay. 

It’s silent for a long time—so long that you lose track of the passage of time. When you glance at the time, you realize only 10 minutes have passed since you got here. Staring at the glossy finish of the table, you come to terms with a few different facts: 

The library is not for you. It’s too quiet. The people are not friendly. Who are you kidding? You’re miserable here. 

You miss coffee and danishes. How are you supposed to get shit done if you’re hungry and tired? 

You miss Jungkook. You definitely have a massive boner for him, in the eloquent words of Kim Seokjin. You miss his jokes and his funny expressions and his laughter. 

You’re startled from your trance by the sound of two plastic cups hitting the table. Even more startling is the face of Jeon Jungkook, smiling down at you. 

“What are you doing here?” You whisper, alarmed when he sits himself down in the seat across from you. 

He quirks a brow and pushes one of the drinks towards you before taking out his own laptop. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m studying with a friend.” 

Studying with a friend? He brought you a drink? He smiled at you? You try and fail to keep the bewilderment off your face. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. You do see the ends of his mouth curl up when he takes a sip of his drink. 

It’s something cold with a lot of whipped cream and sugar and coffee. He even got the little caramel sprinkles on top that he knows you love. 

You can feel your forehead pinching from the effort it’s taking you to resist this drink. 

“What’s the catch?” You ask, although your hand is inching towards the drink of its own will. 

Jungkook shoots you a bemused look. “Why would there be a catch?” 

You can’t find a logical answer for him. 

True to his word, he starts pulling study materials out of his backpack: a notebook, a textbook, a pencil case, a laptop, over-the-ear headphones. 

To say you’re bewildered is a massive understatement. 

It takes you a few minutes of fumbling and blatantly ogling Jungkook, who patiently smiles back at you, before you can relax your shoulders and spine. 

An hour later, he’s still there, deeply immersed in whatever he’s studying. You know it’s been an hour because you’ve been watching the time slowly tick since he got here. You’ve been watching Jungkook’s eyes flit across his screen and his hands jostle restlessly and his leg bounce under the table and his hair brush against his eyebrows. There seems to be no point in doing essays to distract yourself from a certain someone if he’s sitting right in front of you. 

At one point, he pulls his headphones down to rest around his neck and shuts his laptop. You busy yourself with clicking and typing at the 1 page, mostly empty word document that’s open. 

“Y/N,” he says. 

You look up at him like he’s caught you off guard. “Yes?” 

“Are we gonna talk about it?” 

“About what?” 

He sighs. “About how I saw your Sim of me and then you ran away and haven’t been to the coffee shop since?” 

Wow, he was straight to the point, wasn’t he? 

You sip at the drink he got you, as if it’s not empty. The straw makes a loud sputtering noise that has several students glowering your direction. 

Jungkook waits. 

You bury your face in your hands. “Can’t you tell? I’m so embarrassed. I’m so sorry you had to see that, that I even made you into a Sim in the first place. That was probably the most embarrassing moment in my life.” 

“What’s so embarrassing about it?”

“You laughed! You knew about the Sims all along!” You catch more people trying to telepathically kill you and you lower your voice. “Oh my god, you’re laughing right now.” 

Jungkook looks like he’s using every muscle in his body to prevent himself from laughing. You suppose that should count for something. 

“I’m not laughing,” Jungkook says, grinning. “Okay, I am laughing, but not because it’s embarrassing. I think it’s cute. No, I think you’re cute.” 

“You what?” Your voice is so loud this time that you get an actual “Shush!” from someone. 

Jungkook’s shoulders shake silently from how hard he’s laughing. You throw all your things into your bag haphazardly and drag him away. 

A moment later, you’re sitting on the stairs in the emergency stairwell of the library.

“You WHAT?” Your eyes must be bulging out of their sockets, and you’re staring at Jungkook like he turned green and pregnant and started speaking Simlish. Not unlike Jongkook the Sim bartender, who was the next alien abduction victim.. 

Jungkook beams at you. “See? Cute.” 

It shouldn’t be so mind boggling that someone finds you cute, but you’ve always had anxiety around love and romance. That’s why you never approach people you’re attracted to, and it’s why you never intended on pursuing Jungkook. 

“Tell me something,” Jungkook says, sitting down on the stairs next to you. “How did Sim Y/N and Sim Jungkook meet?” 

“At a bar. He works at a bar.”

“Are they happy together?” 

You hum. “They were happy, but then he got kidnapped by aliens and returned the next day green and pregnant. Sim Y/N was upset about that.” 

Jungkook nodded sympathetically. “The baby’s not hers, huh?” 

“Nope. It’s very tragic.” 

“Is there any hope?” Jungkook nudges you with his arm, and you turn to face him. 

Your faces are much closer than you realized. Every cell in your body is screaming at you to turn away and scootch farther away and maybe even tell Jungkook you are unwell and go home immediately and never see him again. Maybe not every cell though. There’s one that sounds suspiciously like Seokjin, and it’s telling you that there is hope, for maybe more than just your Sim. It also tells you to stop self-sabotaging your life. 

You somehow manage to stay there and enjoy staring at Jungkook’s sparkly galaxy eyes up close. 

“Yeah, I think so,” you tell him. Your voice isn’t more than a warm breath. 

Your eyes drop to his lips, and you spot a mole on the bottom lip. You lift up a hand to touch it, but you stop yourself before you can. 

Jungkook puts a hand against yours and interlaces your fingers. He stands up, lifting you up along with him. 

“Let’s go get something to eat,” he says, searching your face. “Like a date. Is that okay with you?” 

You nod, and the ends of your mouth are floating upwards like balloons. You smile so widely at Jungkook that you fear you’ve accidentally cosplayed as the Joker. He cosplays as the Joker right back. 

You trudge hand in hand back through the library. 

“Let’s go get coffee,” you say. 

Jungkook groans loudly. 

Someone shushes you again, and the two of you hightail it out there, giggling like the lovesick fools that you definitely are.

A/N: I had a blast writing this 2 YEARS ago, and then I left it unfinished in the vaults like I do with every work of writing I start. I rediscovered it recently, thought it deserved an ending, and here I am posting it! I am so glad I could finish a longer one-shot for this blog even if I'm not actively writing fanfic anymore. Hope you enjoy!

#jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #jungkook oneshot #jungkook fluff #bts au #bts jungkook #jungkook scenario #bts writing #jeon jungkook #bts fanfic

[vivgst]

Bodyguard!Valeria

Okay first of all I kinda hate this, I'm posting it again bc I had posted it privately (bc I'm stupid like that) Uh and it's not proofread so sorry in advance

Valeria was no stranger to hard work, everything she had achieved was because she had broken her back and cried tears of blood but she did not complain.

Right now she was cursing her life and all her ancestors though, she couldn't conceive that you were the most difficult thing of all, you were unbearable, so annoying and stubborn that sometimes she wanted to just vanish into thin air and forget about her damn plan, that's how much of a pain you were for her.

Not only were you putting your life at risk but also hers, you were the wife of the spider's son and one of the reasons why she had been almost forced to watch over you was so that that fucking man wouldn't beat the crap out of you anymore because of his jealousy, however, you weren't making it easy for Valeria.

You were so manipulative, you knew very well how to use your beauty to your advantage and you were so persistent that you managed to get her into your bed and it was so inevitable for her not to give in to your pleas, those caresses that drove her crazy and those kisses that she still couldn't forget.

That night was permanently on her mind, torturing her and reminding her that even though she always had you close, she could never touch you again or her plans would probably be ruined, she had already gained the trust of too many people to make such a carnal mistake as giving in to her impulses.

“Please, it's just a-” You slurred your words out of drunkenness and she rolled her eyes, her hand pressed to your throat, you could see she was upset but you didn't give a damn, like usual.

“Shut your damn mouth, do you want to get killed? Behave". Valeria snapped and she was so sick of you, you could see it, she was tense and her jaw clenched as she looked around to make sure no one had seen you as you rubbed against her and tried to kiss her, luckily the VIP area of ​​the club you two were in was quite secluded and no one was paying attention to you.

She kept her distance for the rest of the night, she stayed alert and watched you to make sure you didn't do something stupid but she didn't let you get too close until you arrived back at the mansion, she helped you go upstairs because you could barely walk properly and when she was going to leave you in the room you pulled her in and closed the door behind her, your husband was not there and you always took advantage of that, or at least that's what you tried to do.

"I have to take a shower". You murmured and kept pulling Valeria by the arm until you got in the bathroom, you weren’t letting her escape from you. “And you have to take care of me, what if I fall and hit my head? It will be your fault.” You grinned cynically at her and she scoffed as she shook her head, the worst part was that you were right and she hated it.

You got in the shower as soon as you undressed, the cold water ran through your whole body and made you shiver.

Her gaze inevitably ran over you from head to toe and she had to swallow hard and remind herself that the woman in front of her was forbidden, having you once had been greedy of her, she couldn't allow herself to have you again even if she wanted to... and oh how much she wanted to.

You, on the other hand, knew very well what you were doing, you slid your hands over your breasts, over your stomach until you reached your belly, you felt the heat between your legs as intense as ever, you had never been in a situation this erotic and you felt breathless, just like Valeria.

The only thing between you was the glass door, she couldn't take her eyes off your body even if she tried. It's not like she wanted to, she felt enchanted as if she was in a spell.

"Don’t do this to me". Valeria spoke almost out of breath, her voice was strained by everything she was feeling and you smiled as you put your hand between your thighs, you leaned against the shower door, the glass fogging up from your gasps and you began to massage your swollen bud that was soaking your fingers, your soft flesh was begging for another touch, it missed her hands. The water that fell on you was cold but not even that helped calm the heat you felt, the burning throughout your body.

Valeria was frozen in place, she couldn't stop looking at you, the way you touched yourself, your face, your whole body, she wanted to get into that shower and taste you until you couldn't stand up anymore, she wanted to turn you into a needy mess and feel your skin and your body against hers, it was a necessity at this point.

She couldn't control herself anymore and since she knew how things would end she preferred to run away, she left the bathroom and went into the room that your impertinent husband had assigned her, if you were sober enough to torture her that way then you were sober enough how to finish taking the damn shower without killing yourself.

She wasn't calming down, she was still panting and saying she was dripping was an understatement, she lay down on the bed and took a couple of deep breaths before cursing under her breath, doing that was giving in to all your fucking teasing but she couldn't help so she unzipped her pants in an attempt to calm the longing she felt for you right now.

And you went into the room, just what Valeria didn’t want... She growled, the tension she was feeling was enough to put her in a bad mood and now you were there to just make her feel even worse, it was a bad night, it was a bad job.

“No, get out.” Valeria spoke and you couldn't help the mischievous grin that adorned your face when you heard her, you knew that voice very well, you nibbled on your lip as you approached her bed, straddling her, your hand wrapping around her neck and the other going down her breasts, all over her torso until you put it inside her pants, you could feel how wet she was just from brushing her underwear with your fingers, her walls clenched around nothing, craving, longing to feel something inside, it was painful.

She was staring at you as she let out heavy pants, her body felt on fire and she knew she could take you off her lap if she really wanted to, you weren’t the strongest woman so she could just push you away, she could.

The question was... did she want to?

You gently caressed her over her underwear and put your hand inside, rubbing her flesh that was unusually soaked and you narrowed your eyes at her as you bit your lip, you were finally touching her again.

You lowered your fingers to her entrance and slowly sank them inside her, her walls clung to you, milking your fingers and your breath hitched in your throat, she was never this wet and the realization made you smirk, this was a first and you promised yourself right there that you would enjoy it.

“Oh… Are you ovulating?” You murmured in a mocking tone but Valeria didn't answer, she just glared at you as she gasped and you curled your fingers, rubbing that spot inside her that made her feel helpless and she whimpered. “That's why you're wet like a bitch in heat, right, honey?” You whispered softly, increasing the speed with which you massaged her g-spot.

“Screw you.” She snapped, feeling breathless, her moans were more audible now and it was killing you, you had never seen her this turned on, it was just making you feel desperate and needy.

You started grinding your hips against her thigh as you massaged her insides and she was so tight you felt like she would rip your fingers off, which meant she was close.

You pushed your thumb against her swollen nub, her thighs started to shake and you brought your lips to hers, you were doing what you wanted with her, but it wasn’t enough.

“I want you to get me out of here”. You spoke hoarsely as you kept working your fingers inside her, the heat of her insides were driving you insane. You loved feeling pleasure, but the most exciting part about having sex with Valeria was pleasuring her, making her weak until she couldn’t stop squirting.

“I will.” She breathed out, her arms clasping around your waist so she could feel you closer as her orgasm was crushing her whole body, you could feel it in your hand, the way she was tightening and tensing up, it was hot. And you moved your fingers harshly, harder just like you knew she liked it.

“I want to be with you, I don’t want to be with him”. You spoke close to her lips and she nibbled on your bottom lip, her body felt like it wasn’t hers anymore, it was yours, yours to control, to posses, she gave you the right.

“We…” Her words were silenced by her own moans, she couldn’t keep quiet like she intended to just a couple minutes ago because the feeling was overwhelming, it wasn’t just her wet cunt that was sensitive, it was her entire self, her nipples were stiff and you couldn’t see it because her bra was hugging her chest, it was uncomfortable, she wanted your soft hand around her breasts, circling her nipples, playing with that delicate skin you loved so much.

The sound of your fingers fucking her was so obscene, and soon enough you could hear how wet she was getting so you knew it was time to took them out.

Your gaze fell over your fingers, glistening with Valeria’s’ juices and you felt thirsty, you put them in your mouth and moaned as you felt her taste spread across your tongue.

The front door creaked and took you both out of the little cloud you were in. You quickly got off Valeria's lap and snuck to your room, just in time for your husband to come in and lie down next to you, thinking you were asleep or maybe not even thinking about you at all.

And you couldn't help but smirk as you imagined how happy you would be when this nightmare was over, just you, Valeria, and the empire you knew she would build.

#valeria garza #valeria cod #valeria mw2 #valeria garza x reader #valeria x reader #cod x reader #valeria thirst #valeria x f! reader #valeria x you #wlw #lesbian #call of duty #cod mw2 #sapphic #wlw post #cod x you #cod

[gunraekae]

having an off day

Ophelia - Friedrich Heyser

>ikemen vampire

>mansion residents x reader

>a/n: so sorry for the weird formatting in advance. i hope it makes sense. enjoy! 

You woke up with the weight of an oppressive dread. A black hole in you seemed to suck the vitality out of you. Usually your spirit was at least alive and willing to get you out of bed, but this morning, it was only dead static in your chest. You could chalk it up to feeling homesick or hopelessness with your predicament, but nonetheless, you were not up to it at all today. 

Still, you willed yourself out of bed, afraid to let Sebastian and the residents down (though you knew they wouldn’t fault you for being off, you still felt the obligation because Le Comte is letting you stay for free, after all.)

On that note, the residents would fs feel a disturbance in the force if you weren’t out in the mansion today. You not being there would set off a chain reaction and have them be grumpy and having off days too. 

While setting up breakfast with Sebastian, you asked for the cleaning tasks for the rest of the day. You loved the residents but unfortunately could muster up no energy to talk to anyone today. Sebastian's obviously the first to catch on, and as the mansion’s biggest gossip, will spread this notion to any and every vampire he encounters. Thankfully, he didn't question it and hesitantly granted you permission. He usually doesn’t give you the heavier tasks like cleaning, but seeing your dour mood, he caught on that you wanted the solitude. 

While passing out breakfast for the morning vampires (Arthur, Vincent, Theo, Dazai, Isaac, Mozart, Comte) you were unusually quiet. Usually, you would bashfully respond to Arthur’s flirty remarks or retaliate to Theo’s teasing, but today you only acknowledged everyone with a slight (and very forced) smile.

Dazai Osamu

I'm of the belief that Dazai has a sadness antenna that catches on to everyone’s emotions as soon as they feel them. So best believe that as soon as you woke up, he could already sense a disturbance in the force. 

So when you very quietly poured tea for him, he placed a gentle hand on your arm and gave you a silent “are you ok?” look. He could tell that you didn’t want to bring attention to yourself, but also didn’t want to leave you like this. 

The deal he made with you when you first arrived came to mind. He proposed that whenever you felt even the slightest inclination of sadness, that you came to him to confide in (because you know he gets it fs). 

You acknowledged it with a solemn nod, wanting to communicate that you remembered the promise but couldn’t do it just yet. Dazai pursed his lips in quiet uncertainty, but allowed you to continue your chores. 

Later in the afternoon, while tending to the gardens outside, Dazai nonchalantly sat by your working figure. He settled for watching you work before piping up, “how fortunate the flowers are to be cared for by you.” You may have jumped a little bit, having been lost in your thoughts. 

Dazai’s gentle smile seemed more genuine this time; not quite the clownish mask he usually wore. “Unfortunately for you, I may be the only one who understands your predicament the most.” He walked next to you, a serene silence in the air.  

You confess as much of your melancholy as you could put into words while Dazai remained contemplative and respectfully quiet. Whether it was your mental wellness being disturbed, thoughts of home, or even just a broad exhaustion, Dazai will listen and understand. Sometime during your tirade, tears seeped out from your eyes unnoticed, except by his golden eyes. He softly cupped your cheek and wiped your tears away; his touch never more than gentle. 

At that moment, Dazai touched your face as if it was a delicate flower petal about to fall to its demise. His heart clenched in both tender affection at your vulnerability around him, and deep anguish that it was you who suffered and he couldn’t take that burden instead. How was it that a beautiful angel like you was tormented at this moment and not him, the sinful monster who was deserving of your burden and more. Still, he kept those demeaning thoughts quiet and yearned that his love could be felt in his gentle touches to your cheek. 

Dazai is the most sensitive to others’ emotions and will be the first to catch on to any of your mood changes. He'd rather die than leave you toiling in your own sadness, so he’ll follow you around until you confide in him. As tragic as it is, it’s his responsibility to make sure no one else, and especially not someone he cares about so deeply like you, feels the same torture he does. 

Arthur Conan Doyle

The writers are perceptive and sensitive to people’s emotions and characters, and usually you love them for that. Today, it made you the slightest bit frustrated. With only a meek “thank you” to Arthur’s compliment of, “your beautiful face is the perfect start to this day, love” he knew something was wrong. 

You poured his coffee quietly, hoping no one would pay attention to you. Arthur placed a soft hand against your back and asked lowly, “are you alright? Did something happen?” you shook your head and gave him an appreciative smile. 

You moved to pour Theo’s drink next, but Arthur’s arm wrapped around your waist. He motioned for you to come closer and so you leaned down.

“I've got to run errands in town today, but I'll find you once I get back. Do you think you can talk to me then?” he whispered. 

“I'm not sure.”

“I hate to leave you like this, love, really. At least promise me you can hold out until later and you can take all your frustration out on me, yes?” you find yourself laughing a little at his suggestion. He smiled in victory and gave your waist a small squeeze before letting you go.

Once Arthur returns from his errands, it’s just nearing lunch. True to his word, he finds you in the mansion (good luck evading his genius mind) and vows to take you out for a meal. You can refuse all you want, but it truly does wound him seeing you the slightest bit upset. Maybe his past influences that, but nonetheless, he wants to make you happy. 

He’ll do everything in his power to make you laugh, and if that doesn’t work, he’ll try and pester you so that you take your anger out on him. 

He treats you like a princess during the date, hooking his arm under yours, pushing your chair in, paying for everything, and if you were up to it, taking you shopping afterwards. 

He’ll try and seek out a case nearby as those tend to cheer you up and serve as a welcome distraction. 

Whether you choose to confide in him or not, he might have already caught on to what made you upset and will subtly offer a word of advice or comfort, depending on whichever you needed. And he’s perceptive enough to catch on to what you need. 

Nevertheless, the author’s darling attempts of alleviating your mood will likely be a success. Arthur is one of the tragic ones who would rather suffer than even endure the thought of his cared ones being upset. And you’re the one who brought new light into his revived life, so admittedly, he enjoys being there for you. If you allow him past your walls, Arthur would do just about everything to prove it was worth doing so. His care may be hidden under layers of deceptive and cliché flirtation, but a little unravelling shows just how tenderly he cares for you. So while his attempts do reflect that playboy life, the warm hand on your back proves there is no one in this new life he treasures more than yourself. 

Theodorus van Gogh

Still feeling Arthur’s and Dazai’s worried looks on your back, you moved on to Theo, who was unfortunately, less perceptive than the two. 

“Took you long enough, hondje. Dogs aren’t known to be so slow.” he huffed, having already placed a generous amount of sugar in his cup. You could barely register the small, “sche uit, Theo,” from Vincent. Still, his comment served to sour your mood even further, a sinking feeling in your heart suddenly blurring your eyes. 

Your spatial awareness being off, you almost overfilled Theo’s cup. This time, he took notice of your shaky and meek manner. He was about to complain, but when you turned to him to apologise, he saw your teary eyes.

“You hurt? What happened? Who hurt you?” Theo immediately asked in concern. You shook your head in alarm. His handsome face scrunched in concern, and he reached out to seize your arm to steady its shaking. He set down the coffee pot and checked if your arm got burnt. 

he gruffly passed the coffee pot to his brother, and when he was faced with questioning looks from the rest of the table he simply said, “you pour your own damn coffee.” He motioned for you to leave, wanting to relieve you of your duties for this morning as a small mercy. 

Theo is unfortunately one of the busier men of the mansion, so he can’t do much until the evening when he returns. So despite the tense morning, there’s no resolution until after supper. what his words can’t deliver though, his actions do. 

Regardless of how many residents have comforted you, you remained silent and thoughtful. Their efforts were greatly appreciated, but your energy was still depleted. 

Theo catches you right after cleaning up with Sebastian. He hid a large box behind his broad back, strangely timid from his usual bold character. He cleared his throat, “hondje, I brought you something home from work. you told me you liked this last time I took you out for a walk.” 

He stepped aside to show you the large and very sweetly decorated cake in the box. you knew how expensive it was, and for a man like Theo, who was quite savvy with money, you felt a tinge of guilt for making him waste money on you. 

“Theo, thank you. I don't know what to say, you really didn’t have to.”

“Hush hondje. A master’s supposed to take care of his puppy. And you’ve been working hard lately—you deserve a little treat.” 

Of course, Theo indulges in the dessert with you, he may have bought it partly for himself too. But when he saw you enjoying something he gave you, it warmed his heart. Perhaps your smile is sweeter than any dessert he’s had before—and he’s got quite a sweet tooth. 

Theo can be brash, and not nearly as emotionally perceptive as the others. So initially, he’ll be his usual gruff and teasing self. But he’s a good man (savannah), and will always serve you, regardless of the master-puppy dynamic he’s got going on. He’s weak to you, and would hand you the world just to get a glimpse of your sweet smile again. He can’t have his pretty girl sad, that makes him a terrible master. 

Vincent van Gogh

You shook your head, insisting that you stay to help Sebastian. Theo disapprovingly shook his head and tried to stop you from doing more work, but you’d already moved to Vincent’s side. 

Vincent already caught on as soon as Theo asked if you were okay. He poured his coffee himself, so you passed him the small bowl of butter and served a plate of sliced fruit to help. Vincent gently stroked your back, “Schatje, we’re just fine here, you can sit down. Have you had breakfast yourself yet?” knowing you never liked to put yourself first. 

“I'm just fine, Vincent. thank you.” you stuttered out. He hummed in concern, “Sebas told me you were doing laundry outside today. I'll come help you, if that’s alright?” you shook your head, touched at his kind offer, but dreadful over having a companion. As sweet as Vincent was, you were afraid of being too brash with him, with how short your patience was today. 

“We don't have to talk or anything, I'm offering because I want to, mc. please?” Vincent’s pleading eyes were too precious, so you gave him a hesitant nod. 

Vincent brightened up, his angelic smile lifting your spirits up slightly. with a warm day like today, he usually painted outside anyway. at least you wouldn’t have to be with him the whole time. 

He gave your arm an appreciative squeeze before you left. you weren’t sure how to thank him exactly. 

True to his word, the moment you stepped foot outside, you were greeted with his “could heal any and every problem in the world” smile. He was extra handsome wearing his simple, white, button-up shirt with his sleeves rolled up. 

You gave him an appreciative nod, a bit flustered with having someone help you with such a simple task. Still, Vincent pleasantly hummed with no complaints, hanging the clothes you washed. 

It’s true that his hands were blessed by god, but his somewhat clumsy work with clipping the clothes on the line was a contrast to his paintings. Still, his determined expression dispelled any frustration you had, with how hardworking and adorable he was. 

With Vincent’s help (and the soft melody of Mozart's distant piano playing), the laundry was hung in sufficient time. other than having tea with Comte, you really didn’t have much left to do this early afternoon. Vincent cutely tilted his head in curiosity at your zoned out face. 

When he giggled, you snapped out of your stupor and glanced questioningly at him. “sorry! you’re just so cute staring into space like that.” Flustered, you faced away from him. 

“Don’t just say things like that Vincent. you’ll give me the wrong idea.”

“I mean it though. you’re adorable even just breathing.” He was doing that thing where he innocently compliments you, but just like his brother, actually wants to see you flustered. 

“Vincent!”

“and now you’re even lovelier when you’re all embarrassed!” Vincent chuckled, finally relenting when your hands fully covered your burning face. 

“Sorry for teasing you. I was just hoping I could make you smile. I know I'm not nearly as funny as Napoleon, or as dependable as Leonardo, but it hurts me to see you in pain, mc.” Vincent gently pried your hands away, holding them in his bigger and warmer ones. He stroked your palms in gentle circles. 

Really, he wanted to just wrap you in an embrace and hoped that you would let out your emotions to him. But he knew you needed time and patience before confiding in him. If you allowed it, he would stay all-day with you, just comforting and listening to any of your vulnerable confessions you chose to indulge him to. 

Eventually, you did relent to receiving a warm hug from him. you couldn’t see his face, but he was overjoyed you felt safe enough with him to do so. 

Angelic Vincent wishes he could take any and every pain you feel and take it all himself. It truly breaks his heart seeing your usually bright spirit so down, so he’ll do everything he can to comfort you. He’s patient and gentle; never crossing any of your boundaries and allowing you to take whatever you need and however long it takes you to find that out. He’ll help you with your work, sing you to sleep, feed you treats (that you hope he didn’t make), and give you as much or as little as you need. He cares about you deeply and only hopes he can be enough to cure at least a little bit of the pain you feel. 

Comte de Saint-Germain

Comte's face was already scrunched in worry from the moment you entered the dining hall. his calm and elegant demeanour belied it, but he was eager to finally talk to you. Once you reached his side, you swore you could almost hear the sigh of relief. 

“I speak for everyone when I say that no one can start their day right without seeing your face, chérie.” Ever the romantic, Comte wants to reassure you that you’re wanted (needed actually), and that he appreciates your being there. 

You’d be hard-pressed not to feel flustered by his words. “You’re exaggerating, Comte, but thank you.” Your usual routine consisted of having tea with Comte in the early afternoon, but you weren’t sure you’d make good company. “about later today comte���“

“I'll have the tea and desserts set up. i’ve found this new patisserie in the city—“

“comte, i’m really sorry—“

“You don’t have to do any work, mc. I want you to take a break.” He was clearly well-intentioned and the break did sound tempting. so with much hesitation, you relented to comte’s demands. 

Perhaps a little part of you dreaded it, knowing how protective Comte was over you. He’ll pry, and if he found out that it was another person’s doing that caused your mood, he’ll cause a riot (gracefully and elegantly, mind you). He was already waiting at the garden’s gazebo, a spread of various sweet pastries and steaming tea set up for you. 

He perked up upon seeing you, pushing your chair in as you sat down. He poured you tea and placed one of each pastry on your plate while you hopelessly tried to stop him. 

“I'm simply ecstatic you could join me today, ma chérie.” he hummed, sipping his tea. 

“It's not anyone’s fault, it’s just me.” You wanted to clear up what you knew he was itching to find out. his shoulders sagged down in relief for a brief moment before settling back into his perfect posture. 

“That's a relief, but I still want to make sure you’re okay, mc. Come, have some tea.” 

You could feel Comte’s golden eyes watching your every move, but otherwise, the tea was excellent and he was certainly generous with all the pastries. 

The real surprise was later in the night, after dinner, when comte asked you to meet him in his office. He was on the balcony, gazing out to the Parisian landscape (he would have been smoking then, but he tries not to). 

“You called for me, comte?” 

“Ah yes. mc.” The way he said your name was admittedly a bit seductive when accompanied by his golden eyes. he had this excited air about him, unknown if it was for innocent or more sinful reasons. He motioned towards a concerningly large box on his table. you opened it, and to your surprise (not really let’s bfr), there was a beautiful silk dress in your favourite colour. 

Comte moved close from behind you, and with a quiet “may i?” he delicately  put a necklace on your neck, the light brush of his fingers dizzying. 

He trailed his hands down to your shoulders and squeezed them, before descending to your arms. “ma chérie, i want to make you feel better. how can i do that for you?” he rubbed your arms up and down before wrapping around your body altogether. 

In this position, you could cry in peace, ramble in frustration, or be silent and enjoy his embrace without fear of judgement. He couldn’t see your expression, to save any embarrassment on your end, but he’s still there. 

Comte will definitely be protective and try and figure out if it was anyone made you upset. He would commit a murder to whoever did, but if there wasn’t anyone, he’d focus on making you feel better. His love language is gifts, quite obviously, but I also like to believe that he’s an acts of service guy who’d want to make things at least a little easier for you, like giving you a break. He'd want to reward you with gifts, expensive, but the kind that he knows you like. and if that doesn’t show you he cares about you, he’ll stay long enough to help you recover; in a way, he feels proudly possessive, knowing you could show your vulnerability to only him. 

Napoleon Bonaparte

As one of the late risers, you were tasked with waking him up in the morning. you did your usual routine of ripping the blankets off him and blocking his kiss with your hand. this time though, you left the former emperor be, once you caught sight of his half-opened eyes. 

He took a minute to catch on to your disappearance (forgive him, he’s half-awake) but as soon as it registered in his sleepy brain, he zoomed out of his room to catch your retreating figure. 

You knew he was one of the persistent men of the mansion, unable to leave you alone even when you weren’t upset. so this time around, he was hellbent on following you until you’d answer his inquiries. 

“Nunuche? what’s gotten into you?” he would quickly catch up to you and grip your arm until you show him your teary face. And only then would he relent and hold your hand instead.

You could confide in him and tell him about all your problems, because after all, he was the man who saved you and vowed to protect you all this time. However, even if you didn’t at that moment, nothing would stop Napoleon from making you feel better. 

He would briefly venture into town to absolve him of any of his guard duties so he could remain at your side the entire day. Perhaps a bit of an overreaction on his part, but owing his new life to you, he wanted to prioritise you above all else. 

Unlike a certain lazy Italian, this Italian will politely request that you be relieved of your tasks, and though you insisted on at least completing the laundry with Vincent and having tea with Comte, you relented to his demands. 

His usual routine was to take you to the stables and run as far as you can on his horse. It was often what helped him dispel the ghosts from his past; the coolness of the afternoon wind was a soothing balm to your face that was drenched with hot tears. He would childishly ignite a race between the two of you through the vast woods surrounding Comte’s mansion, if only to ease your heavy mind with a far less laborious task. 

He’d lead you to a small meadow on the outskirts of the fields, far from prying eyes and ears. There you can let any emotion out: whether that was a yell of frustration, a scream of rage, or harsh sobs, Napoleon will do it first, if it removes any embarrassment on your end. 

Whether you choose to confide in him or not, (which you likely would, considering how unyieldingly supportive and protective Napoleon had been for you thus far) Napoleon will willingly listen to anything you say. You could wax cheesy poetry, ponder about the origins of the universe, or just recall mundane moments in the mansion, but Napoleon will respond in kind to any silly statement you make. 

Napoleon of all people wouldn’t be opposed to having a nap on the soft, dewy grass, under the blanket of the warm setting sun. Once it gets cold though, he’d take you back to the mansion. 

If you still felt overwhelmed, he would bring you up to the attic that overlooked the Paris skyline. 

Napoleon, as he hopes that you consider him one of your closest companions, would do everything in his power to ease your pain. He’d begin by alleviating your work for the day, and whether that entailed him undertaking those chores or simply helping you with them, he’d do anything. Then, he might try what works best for him when he has his off days, usually in regard to the past, but allow you to dictate what he can or can’t do. Really, he hopes that whatever he does dispels those clouds of anguish and replaces it with some good old Napoleon humour. As the evening closes in, he’d take you to the attic. With only the stars and the moon as your witness, Napoleon would do everything in his power to bring you comfort. 

sorry that i wasn't able to write for everyone in this post, but I'll feature the rest (Leonardo, Isaac, Mozart, Jean, and a few bonus characters) on the next post. i just wanted to get some content out now.

if you made it this far, thank you so much for spending your time on my writing. lmk if you enjoyed it (or didn't, but pls be nice abt it I'm sensitive). have a great day, my dear <3

#ikemen series #cybird ikemen #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen vampire arthur #ikemen vampire napoleon #ikemen vampire x reader #ikevamp x reader #ikemen vampire comte #ikemen vampire vincent #ikemen vampire theo #ikemen vampire dazai #ikevamp theo #ikevamp comte #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp arthur

[pilfappreciator]

Can you write about Veneer... Just, like, anything at all. I'm BEGGING. They could be headcanons, drabbles, oneshots, ANYTHING. My little gay mind can't handle it. If you don't have any ideas here are some that I have off the top of my head ^_^ (also if you could make any of these male reader I will love you forever BUT you obviously don't have to <33)

- Baking with him (but either veneer or the reader is a nightmare in the kitchen and everything goes wrong)

- Having a slumber party !! (Doing eachothers nails, hair, makeup, watching movies, just talking, possibly falling asleep in eachothers arms and being embarrassed in the morning)

- Playing hide and seek together

- CHRISTMAS WITH VENEER!!! (Decorating the house/Christmas tree, getting presents, playing out in the snow, just general festive activities:3)

- Reader who has a shit ton of stuffies and has named them all (introducing them to Veneer, cuddling, fluffy things)

- Eepy time (sleeping/cuddling hcs, shenanigans, not being able to fall asleep, weird midnight chats)

I had more but I forgot....

NAHHH UR LITERALLLY SO BASED I LOVE YOU FOR THAT!!! Veneer is literally such a criminal cuz like?? He kidnapped someone, tortured them, AND he stole your heart??? SOMEONE STOP HIM ASDKJALJSLD

Ended up combining a few of your ideas into one big concept! Hope you don't mind :3

Also heads up that this takes place before the events of Band Together took off! Just figured it'd be kinda hard to throw a sleepover when your ass is literally in prison lol

Veneer x Reader: when your favorite twink invites you to a sleepover

Includes: Male! Reader, sleepover shenanigans, fluff, slight angst, gaygaygaygay—

💎 You and Veneer would have to be INCREDIBLY close before he even considered invited you over

💎 Tbh I feel like getting invited to hangout with this guy in any way is actually? Kind of a privilage?? Like his fame is obviously a big factor in that but growing up, I doubt he had any actual friends who weren't his sister. I imagine him as kinda shy and non-confrontational as a kid, and though Velvet wasn't the BEST sibling, she never hesitated to cuss out whatever poor soul chose to pick on her brother. She's always been the one to lead and Veneer has always just followed

💎 I mean... the guy literally participated in tortue just cuz his sister told him to. He sheep coded as hell 😔

💎 So yeah, this boy probably has like zero experience when it comes to having friends who don't use him for his fame and/or are related to him by blood. Luckily you came along! Now he's actually got someone with whom he shares a genuine connection with!!

💎 Whether that connection is strictly platonic has... yet to be determined >;3c

💎 WITH THAT BEING SAID!! This guy has never once participated in a sleepover (hanging out in his sister's room doesn't count), and he's got absolutely no clue what to do ://

💎 Will conduct numerous amounts of research days in advance! And by research, I mean he's binging all his favorite chick flicks and having Krimp take notes aslkdhaljsdl

💎 FR THO!! THIS BOY IS JITTERY AS HELL WHEN THE TIME COMES TO ASK YOU OUT OVER LIKE---!

💎 "Oh heyyyy, (____)! Fancy seeing you here!"

"This... is my house?"

"R-right, right! Obviously! Um, anyway, do you like sleeping?"

"Uh."

"Also, u-uh, totally unrelated but have you ever wondered what the inside of my house looks like?"

💎 Pls just accept his invitation. If he gets any redder he might pop a blood vessel or something

💎 Heaves out the BIGGEST sigh once you say yes. He'll try to play himself off as nonchalant even though he's absolutely ecstatic, but like... the boy is literally vibrating with excitement okay, he's not fooling anyone lol

💎 Once the big day comes and you show up to his house— sorry, MANSION? Prepare yourself cuz he is most definitely giving a tour. From the indoor pool, to the outdoor pool, to the personal studio/production room, to the many walk-in closets, to a room that is literally just one big ball pit, to a heigh-ceiling hallway just lined with photos/painting of him and his sister... he is NOT afraid to show off asdkajsdlkhjf

💎 (Sidenote: don't worry about Velvet potentially intruding on the sleepover. She's agreed to step out for the day on her brother's behalf. Was definitely pretty pissy about having to vacate her own home but eventually relented... but Veneer definitely owes her for her kindness)

💎 Yknow all those cliche sleepover activities people do in movies? Yeah, you guys are doing literally all of them

💎 Such a dumbass <33

💎 NO LIKE ACTUALLY THO?? Krimp made Veneer a list of popular and totally optional things to do at a sleepover and the second he saw it, he was just like "uugh, seems like a lot of work but I GUESS I'll do it 🙄"

💎 You guys are painting your nails matching colors, doing facemasks, messing around with each others' hair— the whole shebang!! And considering this dude is rich as fuck, you just KNOW he's got nothing but all the top-of-the-line products 😤😤. Only the finest for him (and you <33)

💎 LET HIM DO YOUR MAKEUP!! I feel like he really enjoys it as a whole! Like it's probably his favorite part of getting ready for shows or just his day in general, and the only person he's done makeup for is Velvet (tho those instances were VERY rare)... but if you just? Suggest that he does yours for you?? Like just sitting back so he can do his thing, allowing him to call the shots like he rarely ever does???

💎 Literally swooning SO HARD ASLDHKALKJSJDLKJA

💎 Unfortunately the whole thing kinda backfires on him cuz: 1) you're already super cute without makeup, and 2) he knows what he's doing and could easily boost someone's looks with just some eyesliner and the right shade of lipstick

💎 He makes you look hotter, is basically what I'm getting at

💎 He's not sure if he's just done himself a huge favor or screwed himself over for the rest of the night

💎 Considering his crazy wealth and the fact he probably grew up pretty sheltered/spoiled, I doubt this boy knows anything about how a kitchen works lol. Like most of his meals were either made for him by Krimp or served at high-end hoity-toity restaurants with caviar that probably cost more than most organs sell on the black market ://

💎 So yeah, dinner is really gonna come down to you and your skill level

💎 If you know you're away around, CONGRATS!! You've just signed yourself up for cooking lessons with Veneer! And yes, the kitchen WILL end up a mess (but no worries, he'll just make Krimp clean it up). You'll definitely have to take the lead here and he's more than happy to let you do so! Just tell him what spices you need or what utensil to grab, and his ass is on it 🫡 If you wanna teach him how to knead dough or peel certain ingredients?? He won't complain (especially if said activity requires you two to be in close proximity hehe)

💎 Do NOT leave him alone in the kitchen for more than 10 seconds. You'll just return to find him trying to cut strawberries with the dull side of a knife u_u

💎 If you're also total shit in the kitchen?? No worries! Veneer may be living that high life but he's not above ordering takeout lol

💎 Remember those chick flicks I mentioned earlier? Yeah, you two are totally running a marathon of those. If you happen to have any good recs or other movies you happen to like?? He's totally willing to give them a try! Just know that if it's a scary movie… he's gonna be wrapped around you like a koala and screaming into your ear at every jumpscare

💎 He may be talentless but this boy can hit a high note if he feels he's in danger

💎 He may be different from his sister in some ways, but one attribute he shares with her is the fact that he's a TOTAL GOSSIP LIKE?? THIS BOY IS MORE THAN PREPARED TO SPILL THE TEA ON ANY GIVEN OCCASION—

💎 "Oh my gosh, did you HEAR about what happened to Nikki Mirage the other day??"

"No? Wait, who's that again?"

"YOU DON'T KNOW WHO--- okay, sit down so I can educate you 😤"

💎 Him and Velvet literally thrive on drama, idk what else to tell you

💎 (he might also spill some tea about his sister... nothing too incriminating, but like, a few embarrassing childhood stories couldn't hurt, right?)

💎 Late night talks are a MUST!! At some point in the night the two of you end up like... nestled under the covers of whatever fort you guys threw together... you're facing each other, heads centimeters apart as you share a pillow... whispering and giggling for no real reason...

💎 Maybe he vents a little about his insecurities and the way Velvet treats him, less like a brother and more like a shadow she can manipulate as she pleases... and maybe you grab his hand under the blanket... yknow, just to comfort him or whatever...

💎 Veneer only ever gets physical affection when he visits his parents, and even then it's just like? The bare minimum?? Pats on the head/shoulder/back, brief hugs, chaste kisses on his cheek— that kinda crap. And it's so tragic cuz this boy is literally the biggest little spoon to ever spoon. Like actually pls just hold him

💎 If he wakes up the next morning to find you laying behind him? Arms wound around his middle?? You face burried against his neck/shoulder blades/top of his head????

💎 He is not moving from that spot even after you wake up too <33

Cannibal, I absolutely ADORE YOU FOR THIS ASK!! LITERALLY SO FUN TO WRITE SAKLJASADKJSD THANK YOU SO MUCH <3333 (was originally gonna split this into two parts but was like, "nah, this ask deserves to be hella long" uwu)

Veneer redemption arc when??

#love that noodle limbed elastic shiny plastic twink <33 #can twinks also be himbos? or is having muscle mass a requirement? #guess he's just a dumb twink 😔 #*me writing this and realizing that there are a lot of parallels btwn Velvet and John Dory* #mayhaps for another day #the guards at Mount Rageous Correctional Facility don't allow sleepovers unfortunately ;(( #Veneer agreed to serve his time... #but at what cost #trolls #trolls band together #trolls x reader #x reader #trolls veneer #velvet and veneer #ask

[whumpasaurus101]

I love UR WRITING! can u do henchman or sidekick whumpee x possessive villain whumper x posessive righthand whumper 2 (kinda like cruel sadistic yanderes) —whumpee caught trying to escape their mansion /whereever they live

GGAGGGHHH ANON YOURE THE SWEEETESSTTT <<33333 I LOVE THIS SM YES OFC!!!!

I'm sorry this isn't amazing but I couldn't get back to sleep so I whipped this up quickly HUIDJKHJDHDH

Cw: Knife wounds, held while hurt, yandere whumpers, mulitiple whumpers, creepy and possessive whumpers

“And just where might you be off to?” Villain’s voice cooed from behind Sidekick, a cold trickle sent down their spine as they shivered, “I uh-y-I…I swear I-”

“I-I-,” Villain mocked, taking a step closer, leading Sidekick to be pressed up against the door, “Darling,” Villain cooed, leaning in close as they tilted their head, “Do you not enjoy staying here?”

A sob caught in Whumpee’s throat as they tried to speak but they couldn't form any words. “What’s the matter, darling,” Right Hand crooned, raking their hand through Sidekick’s hair- who jumped, not noticing their advance on them. “Cat got your tongue?”

And suddenly, the gentle touch in their hair turned into an iron-tight grip as they tightened their fist, slamming Sidekick’s head against the door. Sidekick cried out, their hands flying up in an attempt to claw at Right Hand’s grip but there was no use. Villain nodded once at Right hand and took a step backwards;

“I know you think you belong to Hero, you think that’s who you belong to, but let me make one thing very clear,” Villain was practically shaking from anger, seething as they watched Sidekick begin to fight against Right Hand's grip. The sound of the switchblade opening made Sidekick freeze up.

“You don’t belong to anyone else but Right Hand and I. We own you, not Hero, not Civillain, not anyone,” Villain stepped closer, their knuckles white as they gripped the handle of the knife. “Nononono-”

Right Hand had managed to move behind Sidekick, pinning their back against their own chest as Villain advanced towards them. Sidekick cried out, tears streaming down their face as they thrashed against Right Hand, “NO-nonono ple-please ‘m so-sorry-” They sobbed, “I di-didn't mean- I-”

A sob erupted from their throat as the cold metal blade traced lightly along their ribs, the other froze, shivering and trembling as they squeezed their eyes shut. “Oh darling,” Right Hand cooed, playing with Sidekick’s hair, soaking in how they trembled, “We’re doing this for your own good.”

Sidekick jolted as the blade slashed once across their chest. Right Hand tightened their grip, “We’re doing this because we care about you,” They soothed, “You belong to us.” The knife next drew a long red line just below Sidekick’s collarbone, making the other yell through gritted teeth. 

Villain lightly traced the knife up along their collarbone, up up up their neck, smudging a glistening red streak along their skin from their previous wounds. The knife stopped just under their chin, forcing their head up. Sidekick shook with a sob but slowly blinked their eyes open, a tear immediately falling as their eyes met with Villain’s.

“You belong with us,” They whispered, their voice making Sidekick shiver, a whimper escaping their throat.

“You belong to us and only us. Sidekick-” They slowly tucked a short curl behind Sidekick’s ear and Villain smiled gently, “We are the ones for you. You're made to be with us. We would do anything for you.”

Sidekick slowly cringed back into Right hand but they nodded.

Villain gently brought their hand against the cut along Sidekick’s collarbone. Sidekick bit their lip, holding in a cry as Villain slowly leant in and spoke quietly, “Who do you belong to, dove?”

Sidekick whimpered, tears streaming down their face as they rasped out but eventually spoked, “Y-you guys- o-only you guys.” 

Villain’s eyes sparkled with delight and Right Hand smiled, gently massaging Sidekick’s scalp, “Oh, well done, Honey, we’re so proud of you.” Sidekick sobbed as all they could do was lean into the soft, gentle touches. Villain pocketed the knife quickly and cupped Sidekick’s face gently, their thumb brushing along their cheekbone, “I know it's hard, I know, dove. But here with us is where you belong, with us.” Sidekick wanted to fight, everything in them told them to resist. But this is where they belonged.

With them.

#TYSM ANON EEEEEE #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #possessive whumper #sidekick whumpee #villain whumper #right hand whumper #right hand #villain #sidekick #hxv #hero and villain #sidkick x villain #villain x sidekick #sidekick whumpee x villlain whumper #yandere whump #yandere whumper #yandere villain #whump #whump drabble #whumpee #whumper #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #lee wrote something :o #asks my beloved #theres fleas everywhere in this house i cant wait to be home hGUIHDUIDHD

[darlingggdearest]

Hey I really like your writing

If it's okay, could I have some Yandere!Muichiro headcanons? If you're okay with specific readers, could you make the reader chubby? If not, that's completely okay

Either way, thank you in advance, have a wonderful day/night

AGED UP YANDERE MUICHIRO X FEMALE READER

I'm sorry, however I like to leave my works inclusive to all body types so I won't do something specific with the readers body. I hope you like this anyway! Have a nice day, and of course, thank you for requesting!

+ Congratulations! You have won the mist hashira's heart!

+ Maybe this isn't such a congratulatory event considering he becomes obsessed and quite literally crazy over you.

+ Besides the crazy part, I think Muichiro is a fascinating yandere to write about, there are so many aspects of his character to consider before you can truly make an accurate assumption about how he would act lovestruck with a girl. For one, I think you caught his attention because of the fact he couldn't forget you. Maybe it was your beauty, or your grace, perhaps your personality made it so he couldn't stop himself from wondering about you every day, but whatever it was, he thirst for more. He had seen other pretty ladies all across Japan, however, there was something about you that he couldn't get out of his mind.

+ At first, he would hide his true obsession for you deep within himself. On the outside, it seemed like an innocent crush. He followed you around like a lost puppy, a soft smile adorning his face every time you did something he deemed "cute". Other times, he would help you out with small tasks, like sharpening your blade, or helping you around the butterfly mansion. You appreciated the help, and never even noticed how his warm smile turned into a sour grimace every time someone else spoke to you.

+ The next stage in his obsession would be overprotectiveness. He would follow you on missions, always showing up at the last moment to save you whether you needed it or not. In Muichiro's mind, you always need to be protected, you're too small and fragile to protect yourself. Another part of this next stage would be an obsessive compulsion to be the only person near you at all times. He can no longer swallow his jealousy of other people. Every time anyone comes near you let alone another man, he gets a searing glob of hot lava weighing him down in the pit of his stomach. To swallow the acid reflux and shove his hatred of the other person down was pure torture for him. So to battle that feeling, he would get more needy towards you, to prove to himself that you did love him and he had nothing to worry about. So for the next few days he rested his head on your shoulder, let his arm drape around your waist, fell asleep in your lap, and whined when you said you needed to go home.

+ With the way he was carrying on, most of the pillars thought you two were a couple, the others who didn't thought you guys were married. ( Muichiro cannot deny that he loves these rumors.)

+ The next and final stage of his love would be the inevitable kidnapping. He had enough with the thought of sharing you with anyone else, so when you two were having your evening tea together, he slipped you something to make you fall asleep. You started to feel nauseous, and weak, black spots clouded you vision and your hearing faded little by little. Muichiro rushed towards you and set your head on his lap, caressing your face and whispering words of comfort to your weakening state. Your vision faded to black.

+ You woke up in the mist estate, on a comfortable silk bed with warm blankets surrounding you, your body sank deep into the plush material of the mattress, you felt safe. (gosh I'm so tired right now.) However that was the opposite of how you should be feeling. Muichiro lay beside you with his limbs wrapped around your waist and torso, he was holding on to you for dear life, pressing your face into his neck and holding the back of your head with his hand as to push you closer to him. His eyes fluttered open at your change of breathing, and he looked down at you. His eyes held the most sincere and warm stare you had ever seen, he looked more happy then you had ever seen him before in your life. To your surprise, Muichiro started to pepper your face with kisses, finally planting one on your lips making you gasp, and in turn, he chuckled.

+ " Oh darling, I cannot explain to you how long I have waited to finally have you in my arms like this, welcome home angel."

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH

This is not my best work, cause I wrote this during a writers block. But hey! At least I finished it!

#demon slayer #demon slayer headcanons #demon slayer x y/n #demon slayer fanfic #muichiro demon slayer #muichiro tokito #kny muichiro #muichiro x reader #demon slayer muichiro #muichiro x you #kimetsu muichiro #muichiro headcanons #yandere muichiro #yandere x reader #yandere male #soft yandere #muichiro x y/n #writers block

[stellartales]

Zhongli: headcanons with pregnant s/o (she/her)

following the one for diluc, so i've decided that i should write a pregnant headcanon for our lord geo as well. tbh, the scenario i've been trying to come up for zhongli keeps being scrapped. my folder is full of incomplete pieces i abandoned each time cause i really didn't find any of them suitable for sharing. so i'll stick to the headcanons for now —i proofread this once but there may still be errors so sorry in advance!

finding out

being in love and marrying her means doing things couples do is pretty much natural even if he's a god. so this includes AHEM *cues horny sounds* XD (hinting at 'dominus lapidis' - find it on the m.list yourself; minors, pls stay away!)

so he wouldn't be surprised to know she got pregnant from the result of doing *cues horny sounds again*. when it was first revealed to him, he would of course be surprised by the news and quickly take it in stride from what they did.

Zhongli would definitely be extremely pleased to know that those nights bore fruits, in this case, fruit. BUT Zhongli would also be concerned about her well-being 'cause she's carrying his child — child of a god; whether or not it would be too much for her.

this makes me wonder if it's possible for him to put a shield inside her womb, around the child or something to protect her from whatever effects the child could give off? — like how we see Zhongli do so around traveller and Kun Jun during the archon quest featuring Azhdaha

idk hahaha my imagination's bit over the top here; sorry if it's weird—

during the months

he is familiar with births of life since he is possibly the oldest living being alive (one that we are familiar with) but he only knows about this phase of life in theory.

he is a knowledgeable man, er, god but even his knowledge had limits. 'Cause knowing and doing is different. he'd seen and met father-to-be and pregnant mothers so many times in his longgggg life, but when it comes to his own experience, he is as awkward as new fathers can be.

but trust Zhongli to know what is good for pregnancy such as good teas, herbs and etc. - if he doesn't know he would consult the adepti (especially those who had children with humans) and humans themselves too.

i'd like to imagine that Zhongli has his own realm like how we have our own serenitea pot, and in there, he owns a mansion; not those multi-tiered type, but ground level with the courtyards and winding verandas (those open-air corridors), with a solid gate around this compound.

Even if he doesn't own a realm, i'd imagine he would own a property like this all the same, somewhere near Liyue Harbor; if he didn't previously, he did after getting betrothed to her. (tbh i'm really curious where zhongli stays in the game)

when he is within their mansion, he would usually don on his hanfu (depicted in sunlit, as written by yours truly).

and on topic of hanfu, he would have a few specially tailored for her for many reasons:

to accommodate her growing belly.

hanfu were more comfortable - flowy sleeves, soft materials and warm

tbh, he secretly developed a fascination over seeing her wearing the hanfu while she's expecting.

Zhongli has always been affectionate towards her but he'd become even more during the months. He enjoys talking to their child in her belly

in the morning without fail, she would wake up to a low, gentle, soothing voice against her rounded belly.

and before bedtime, she would fall asleep to his hand caressing her middle, smoothing over the soft material of her sleepwear. She often falls asleep to the same low, gentle soothing voice. (Zhongli is such ASMR master; his voice alone oh gawd he should be on Youtube lol)

Zhongli is definitely even more protective over her now that she was with child.

before she was pregnant, Zhongli is a lover who believes in her capabilities to protect herself. Just like how he silently watches over Liyue even in the present, he protects her from a small distance. He's not overbearingly protective but enough, Ofc when time calls for him to do so, he'd step up. (don't mess with Geo daddy hohoho)

he respects her as a fellow warrior? someone who is experienced in combat? yea like he doesn't have that kind of misogynistic mindset, like those kind of 'oh because she's a woman so she must be weak and a damsel in distress that can't do a thing so i ,the man, have to step in everytime' mindset.

though i would say that he's more quick to step up when it comes to her than to Liyue (well, cause Liyue has the Qixing and the adeptus)

but now that she's pregnant, who dares to mess with Geo daddy literally daddy HAHAH

while he is sure that she is capable of defending herself even when pregnant, he wouldn't want her strain herself while she's carrying his child. he know it isn't good for her and the baby if she stressed herself. AND OFC, he just wants to protect her; he becomes overprotective papa Geo bear. it's like some kind of instinct more than a thought for him.

Because Zhongli becomes overprotective papa Geo bear during the pregnancy, he sticks around her a lot more.

Hu Tao would definitely see less of that man at work hahaha

He would spend time, bringing his s/o out for short walks; he knows this is good for her. Brings her around the city, listening to stories told by the storytellers, drink good teas, admiring the sceneries around the harbor especially the sea at the wharfs - basically when she's pregnant, they go out on dates a lot more? hahah

but across the months when it gets harder for her to walk 'cause she is getting so big, he would stay home with her, catering to her every needs.

rubs her sore feet, combs through his library for inspiration in finding names as she took naps, spends his time to talking to her and their unborn child

hands are mostly on her belly, caressing it and pressing his lips to it. (oh zhongli is so obsessed, so dedicated to her and their child at this point)

the birth at last

Zhongli would be calm when it happens.

near the due date, Madam Ping who volunteered to help with the birth, would stay around. Madam Ping visits them often during the pregnancy. Giving sounds advices to Zhongli every time she comes over, and discussing how to prepare for the day to come.

He wouldn't show it on his face that it affected him when her hand clutching onto his gave him crushing squeezes when she has to push - being a god, his pain tolerance far exceeds a normal human's so he's gonna be okay hahaha

Zhongli would only be concerned about her 'cause she's in so much pain. Worries again about the effects of his child on her, whether or not it would be too much for her.

but thank god, everything went smoothly. mother is fine, baby is fine.

Zhongli would be so grateful to her, he shed silent tears after Madam Ping left them to be alone. he would thank her for carrying his child and giving him the chance to experience what it's like to live like a mortal, as if she was the one who brought rain after a drought.

ironic for someone who had lived for so long, Zhongli is still experiencing his first-times; finally learnt how to truly live.

he still got a lot more to learn- how to be a father, a husband and lots more things to come.

published on 23.06.2022

#zhongli imagines #zhongli x reader #zhongli headcanons #zhongli scenarios #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #zhongli genshin x reader #zhongli genshin impact #zhongli fluff #zhongli x traveler #zhongli x y/n #zhongli smut #zhongli x you #zhongli x her #zhongli x pregnant reader #zhongli pregnancy

[sillybucket]

“I will be okay” { Stolas x g/n reader }

Woo my first Tumblr fanfic - I’m a little nervous I’ll admit … my writing skills are painfully mediocre but still I hope this came out at least okay-ish :,)👍

I wanna apologize in advance for the possible ooc moments … I’m admittedly not a professional writer , I barely know what I’m doing sometimes ;_;

Also if someone already wrote something similar , know it’s not my intention to copy anyone !

🍃 Warnings 🍃 : none , this is just pure fluff featuring the reader visiting the owl boyo at the hospital after the events of season 2’s fourth episode … cause dammit , after all he went through he deserves some affection :,I

🌙 . 🌙 . 🌙 . 🌙 . 🌙 . 🌙 . 🌙 . 🌙 . 🌙 . 🌙 . 🌙 .

< Your highness ? >

The nurse’s words seemed to bring Stolas back to reality : he turned around to look at her , his tired eyes barely able to stay open …

His encounter with Striker was still very vivid in his mind , and despite his resilience the Prince was feeling completely exhausted after all the hits and wounds he had received …

All he wanted to do was sleep , desperately trying to pretend that all that had happened was nothing but a bad dream , and holding on to the hope that after closing his eyes he would’ve woke up back to his mansion , back to his daughter …

And back to his beloved .

< Yes ? What is it ? >

, he asked , letting out a hiss as his bandaged leg started to hurt after his sudden movement .

< Well , uh , there is a demon out here … they said they want to see you . >

The nurse adjusted her glasses , looking down on a paper she was holding .

< Their name is (y/n) , do you know them ? Should I let them in ? >

Stolas’s eyes widened , and he immediately shifted to a sitting position , ignoring his aching leg and wounds .

< Oh - oh yes ! Please , let them in ! >

His heart beat quickened as he watched the nurse walk out the room : oh , how he longed to see them , to hold them in his arms and feel their comforting warmth …

After a moment the door opened once again , and a familiar demon slowly walked forward , their worried gaze softening as they stared into the Prince’s scarlet eyes …

< Hey sweetie … I’m so glad to see you . >

, they said , approaching the hospital bed and sitting beside him .

Stolas let out a soft little hoot as their hands caressed his cheek , looking at (y/n) with a loving smile .

< Me too , dearest , I’ve … really missed you . >

He kissed the palm of their hand , taking a deep breath …

< I hope I didn’t scare you too much … I can’t imagine how worried you must’ve been , finding out with a sudden text that I was here at the hospital . >

The Prince sighed , looking down at the floor .

< This is nothing to be concerned about , my love … I’m quite tough , I’ll be fine in no time … I’m just sorry I made you come all this way just for me , I hope you weren’t too busy … I do not want to waste your time , so if you have something else to do or somewhere to be you should probabl - >

While he was talking Stolas hadn’t noticed that (y/n) had gotten closer to him , and when they pressed their lips against his he let out a little surprised gasp before closing his eyes , kissing them back while holding them close to him .

When they both pulled away , (y/n) put their hands on his shoulders , careful to avoid touching any of his wounds …

< Stolas , sweetheart … nothing is more important to me than knowing you’re okay . Besides , you should be more worried about yourself : you’re the one who got kidnapped and beat up by a wanted assassin . >

The Prince looked up at them and smiled softly , leaning forward to leave a kiss on their forehead .

< Thank you , (y/n) … it means so much that you care about me . I love you . >

He looked at the pink shades of the sky outside the window , taking a deep breath while holding them in his arms and caressing their hair …

Despite everything that went wrong that day , despite not knowing what was going to happen in the future , Stolas knew that with his beloved starlight by his side he was going to be okay .

🌙 . 🌙 . 🌙 . 🌙 . 🌙 . 🌙 . 🌙 . 🌙 . 🌙 . 🌙 . 🌙 .

If you’re reading this , thank you so much for getting to the end of my silly fanfic :D

Feel free to share your thoughts about it , I’m always happy to see some feedback ^^ I’m very bad at handling my time so I have no idea when I’ll make another one , but I’m definitely planning to do more x readers , maybe from other fandoms I’m into :)👍

Bye now , stay safe ! ❤️

#helluva boss x reader #helluva stolas #helluva boss stolas #stolas x reader #helluvaboss #helluva boss

[melonminnie]

Thanx for working on my request and can I hav part 3 of I became Villains family x reader where reader hav some sort of healing power which is very strong but she is not able to handle it.....and she heals momma valentine one time when she accidentally visited her and everyone except her knew about her power..... and using her power makes her sleepy and and she often snoozes around Papa and momma valentine which they found really adorable......and it's not my fault that I keep requesting ur too good at ur work..... take care lots of love ❤..

YANDERE!VALENTINE FAMILY X FEMALE! CHILD READER (platonic)

Description<3: After the incident the House maids servants and others started noticing how the sick servants would feel better after interacting with the young lady, And soon recognize that she has healing powers except everyone has regonized them except the person with them!

Warning:

Author note: YOUR REQUEST IS SO CUTEE? Thank you for requesting again I’m glad u like my writing!! I tried my best to write as specifically as the request I hope you enjoy it sorry for bad grammar! (PT1). (PT2) part 4 will be abt Vincent maybe or I might just end it here lmk

A few weeks in the servants could no longer ignore how helpful you were!,They don’t mean with work or cleaning.

Once came a servant telling the others after talking to you he felt much better!,As he had a fever before and when talking to you,Suddenly it went away a day later.

Which was a miracle of course, But no one believed him.

Then came more and more servants one by one telling the others, That after talking to you they felt much better like they weren’t suffering anymore.

Soon the word spread threw out the entire mansion, Aria of course already knew about it, But sense her sister had come to the mansion she’d been unknowingly heal anyone that’s sick, or injured.

Aria wanted to keep her sister a secret she wanted to lock her away so that she wouldn’t help anyone, It worried her seeing you get tired so often from accidentally healing anyone that touched you or spoke to you, It only happened when you used energy and unfortunately you were very energetic. And it didn’t help that your powers were somehow advanced which meant you can practically do anything!.

Of course the maids around you didn’t want your little head to worry about your power, Your too young!!.

So when you caught wind of the sick grand duchess who probably didn’t have long to live, You wanted to see her. But when you asked about her the maids would brush it off or change the subject, It made you annoyed, “Why can’t I see the duchess” the pink haired girl thought dissatisfied.

This had been the 9th time she asked this week, The servants were slowly losing it with how many times you had asked about her, How did you even find out about her?.

“Hmmm” the girl hummed before standing up and gong to nearest maid and tugging her dress, “Oh! Young lady is there something you need” she smiled when she realized who tugged at her dress, “Yes” the girl answered immediately “How does the duchess look like” She questioned before sitting at the table with a pen and paper waiting for an answer.

The maid sat in front the girl “she has bright red eyes she also has beautiful long black hair” she said as she described the duchess to the girl who was trying to draw her to the best of her abilities.

“The duchess sounds really pretty” She exclaimed with sparkling eyes, “ will she ever get better” she asked with a hint of hope.

She contemplated on telling the girl the truth or lying, While contemplating the maid kept looking at her eyes. They were shining so bright, She felt as if she’d cry if she saw that sparkle die down.

“Of course” she chirped “she’ll get better very very soon” she reassured lying, The girls eyes got even brighter “That means I can see the duchess right?” She stood up and grabbed onto the ledge of the table.

Oh, she never thought about that, “Yes yes of course! You just need to wait for a little while”, The girl pouted she didn’t want to wait but she got an idea! “Okayyyy!” She smiled slightly sad.

After a few nights of planning and thinking, Y/n found out where the duchess’s bedroom is located, She decided to go in the evening because she realized people don’t go there in the evening mostly.

And luckily sense Aria was planning her wedding and the servants were helping her practically you can just sneak in.

Of course that’s what you did!,You snuck into Sabina’s bedroom before noticing a person sleeping which was her, you hurriedly went to her and glanced at her “Ohhh she’s rlly pretty” the girl whispered to herself.

She carefully touched the woman’s hair to look at her face fully, The girl was happy she did this, Of course she hoped she wouldn’t get caught.

“Your really pretty miss” she spoke as if she was awake.

The duchess wasn’t asleep she couldn’t sleep, She did hear sounds of footsteps she did hear the little girls voice, It was sweet, her heart was fluttering with happiness.

She felt as if her condition was getting better really better, as if she just had a fever and nothing more, not like she was on her death bed.

But the duchess wouldn’t dare open her eyes, Of course she heard about the little sister of aria, She never expected her to come in her room though.

She suspected that the reason she felt better was because of the girl in front of her, She knew in a matter of fact.

And a little while she heard the door click which meant she left, The woman quickly opened her eyes and sat upright staring at the door smiling.

After leaving the room, the girl suddenly felt really tired as if she could fall asleep anywhere, she rubbed her eyes and kept on walking till she bumped into someone.

“I see we’re walking without looking anymore huh?” Tristan voiced starring at the girl who didn’t respond but clung onto his leg and fell asleep.

A few seconds later he noticed she wasn’t responding and picked her up, He realized the girl was asleep and was contemplating on bringing her back to her bedroom.

then suddenly he remembered her request a few weeks ago about wanting to meet the duchess, So he did that and took her to the Sabina’s bedroom.

Upon arrival, Sabina already knew who the girl he was holding was.

“I thought I might drop by” he stated before walking closer and sitting on her bed with the pink haired girl still asleep.

“You look much better then a few days ago” he continued realizing her face had a lot more color then before, “Yeah and it’s all thanks to her” she said smiling, glancing at pink haired girl.

“Hm she already visited you then” he starred at the girl.

A little while later the duchess was still in recovery but was in a much better condition then before, After talking y/n finished talking to Aria who was sick she quickly ran out and headed to the dukes office.

Slowly she started to feel really really tired but she promised the duke she’d meet him today.

The girl knocked on the office door before entering, When entering she saw Tristan and Sabina sitting on chairs facing each other with food on the table. She ran and sat next to Tristan , She quickly fell asleep on his arm.

“Hmm who did she heal this time” Sabina questioned before eating the piece of cake in front of her. “Probably Aria” he replied before he smiled softly.

Sabina moved and held the sleeping kid before returning to her seat, “Adorable” she smiled softly while touching her hair.

Tristan smiled even more at the scene, If he could he’d want scenes like this to always be in his life

#-Azuwritess #becoming the villain's family #manwah #fanfic #becoming the villains family #yandere #yandere manhwa x reader #manhwa x reader #historical manhwa #tristan x reader #the siren #becoming the villains family x reader #Yandere x reader #platonic

[loveemii]

Hey I've been reading some of your Muichiro content and I was wondering, can you do a jealous Muichiro? Like imagine s/o has been having missions with some other Hashira and is acting 'too friendly' around them. Thank you in advance! Have a nice day

HELL YES I CAN I LOVE THIS SM THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST 💞🫶 - have a nice day!

♡︎♥︎————————————————————♥︎♡︎

recently y/n and muichiro have been put on missions with some of the other hashira and y/n kept going on missions with tomioka, in muichiro’s mind they seemed to get closer and closer each time they got back from their mission.

y/n and tomioka would always be playfully making jokes or lightly punching each other, sometimes he would even move her hair out the way.

muichiro had enough when they walked in the butterfly mansion this time holding hands, holding hands?! muichiro thought to himself. he walked over to them with a stern look on his face, y/n could tell he was angry or somewhat jealous based of his aura.

“Why is he holding your hand?”

y/n looked down and saw tomioka holding onto y/n wrist, she laughed a little at his question before answering.

“He is holding my wrist because I might’ve sprained it. He’s just helping Mui.”

“S-sorry.”

“Well he’s done enough: I can take it from here. Thank you.”

muichiro said in a sassy tone, he grabbed y/n’s wrist gently making tomioka let go of her. muichiro took y/n inside the estate for the checkup as tomioka went to the water mansion.

“What was that all about? You jealous?”

y/n asked as she sat in a patients bed waiting for aoi to show up, muichiro rubbed his thumb finger in circles around her broken wrist looking down at it.

“You and Tomioka seem closer than before. I’m not sure if I like it.”

“So you are, we’ll look. It isn’t like that ok? I love you and only you. Me and him are just friends, and I’m pretty sure I’m his only friend. Muichiro. You ave nothing to be jealous about.”

muichiro’s face lit up a little as his eyes began to glisten more, he leaned down and kissed y/n’s cheek. soon after aoi came in for the checkup.

♡︎♥︎————————————————————♥︎♡︎

hi thank you for reading! i hope this met your expectations anon :)

- please excuse any grammar or spelling mistakes, thank you

#demon slayer #muichiro tokito #tokito muichiro #kny muichiro #muichiro kny #kimetsu muichiro #muichiro #muichiro fluff #muichiro x reader #muichiro x you #muichiro x y/n #muichiro smut #demon slayer muichiro #the mu in muichiro

[habaaa]

I don't know if it's a good time, but I wanna share some things I've found about Franklin, they're so interesting and overall chill like him.

Disclaimer: These are official! You can search more at gta.fandom.com, also in little missions, voice clips, and also in hangouts Franklin can have with different characters.

1. He sleeps 8 hours a day:

According to a little observation, when you save the game by putting the characters to sleep it also advances their time, for each character there is a certain sleep cycle. Michael sleeps 6 hours, which is little, Trevor being Trevor puts him to a 12-hour sleep, which sounds good, but it's too much, finally, Franklin sleeps 8 hours, which is necessary.

2. He (maybe) is musical:

There is not so much detail about this, but if we analyze his room (in both houses) he has a guitar, mixer, radio, speaker, and more (there's A LOT of music-related stuff in his room in his and Aunt Denise's house).

Here:

2. He has three favorite radio stations:

These are Radio Los Santos, West Coast Classics, and The Lab, each one ofc has their genre:

Radio LS:

Genre: Contemporary Hip-Hop.

Styles:

Alternative Hip-Hop

Cloud Rap

Conscious Hip-Hop

Contemporary Hip-Hop

Dirty Rap

Drill

Gangsta Rap

Mumble Rap

R&B

Trap

West Coast Classic:

Genre: Classic Hip-Hop

Styles:

Old School Hip-Hop

West Coast Hip-Hop

East Coast Hip-Hop

Southern Hip-Hop

Alternative Hip-Hop

Comedy Hip-Hop

Conscious Hip-Hop

Political Hip-Hop

Gangsta Rap

R&B

Horrorcore

G-Funk

Golden Age Hip-Hop

Hardcore Hip-Hop

The Lab:

Genre: Hip-Hop

Styles:

Electronica

Rock

Synth-Pop

Dancehall

R&B

Gangsta Rap

Pop Rap

3. He may be a Christian?

In the second mission, Franklin got with Michael, this one says sarcastically a vesicle from the Bible "It's a foolish man who builds his house in sand, baby" to which Franklin answers "I don't think my boy Matthew was thinking trucks when he wrote that shit."

4. He's the only one who uses lockpins:

When you take or steal cars with Trevor or Michael, it will always result in a broken window, but with Franklin, this doesn't happen since he uses lockpins.

5. He may like the sky view (Not official, just a thought):

This is just a speculation of different pictures you see in Franklin's page in gta.fandom.com, some of those are Franklin admiring the sky (especially at night) and the city in his Vinewood mansion, but honestly, who wouldn't?

Edit: He does, in one of his switch scenes you can see him using the telescope of his mansion.

6. (NSFW!) He (Probably) lost his virginity to Tonya at 13 years old:

Yeah, strong right? When you hear these two speaking to each other in little missions with Tonya, she revels that she and Franklin had, yk a moment, in the back of Burger Shot, however, Franklin denies it and says they didn't do anything serious.

7. He cannot play tennis:

You can play tennis with Michael, Trevor's a fan of it, and there's no reason behind of why Franklin can't play tennis (This can be used for like headcanon idk why).

8. Both him and Michael are know to smoke cigarettes:

At Franklin's mansion, you seem to find lots of ashtrays along with Redwood cigarettes scattered on tables.

9. His email address:

His e-mail address is [email protected] (I hc than he likes being called Frankie, idk why).

10. He exists:

Not irl, but the fandom (not all of them) tends to forget him, and it's very sad, he's so cool and precious.

11. He seems to be more compassionate towards animals:

For this one, I'll use the information straight from the gta.fandom.com page, since it's better and more detailed.

"Of the three protagonists, Franklin appears to have the most compassion for animals, possibly because he is the only main character to have a pet. When he runs over a wild animal, he usually responds with compassionate quotes, such as: "Sorry, little dude!" or "Watch out, little dude!" whereas Michael usually responds with sarcasm and Trevor with dark humor."

Anyway, that's all from my part, I'll try to post more content abt him and Lamar, I think they're such interesting characters, wish there was more content abt both of them.

Tysm for reading, bye :)

#franklin clinton #franklin clinton x reader #gta v x reader #gta 5 #grand theft auto v #grand theft 5

[loosingmoreletters]

Title: cut my tongue on the rust of a silver spoon

Summary: Lan Wangji is his father’s son, he marries Wei Wuxian to protect him. He is his mother’s too, he dies as a consequence of his punishment. Thirteen years later, summoned into a foreign body, he returns to Gusu hoping to find Wei Ying and, perhaps, forgiveness.

AN: this is really more of a snippet.

When Mo Xuanyu’s family is laid to rest, Lan Wangji surveys the mansion. He takes what he deems worthwhile and dresses in robes more comfortable than Mo Xuanyu’s. He’s slightly shorter than Lan Wangji used to be and his body is in an ill state. Brushing out his hair leaves him with several strands in his hand. He manages to wrangle it into something respectable. When he leaves the mansion, he finds the Gusu Lan disciples staring at him in open awe.

“You’re really not a lunatic, are you?” Lan Jingyi asks.

“No.”

Lan Sizhui stays silent as he’s been throughout this entire assignment before he lifts his hands in curious motions, Lan Jingyi immediately picking up on them. Lan Jingyi eyes Lan Wangji warily, but then begins to speak. “Sizhui is asking why your family was so insistent you were mad then?”

Was the other boy incapable of speech? Lan Wangji thinks about asking, but deems it rude and unnecessary. The boy has performed admirably on the nighthunt and hadn’t been a liability. If he lacks speech, it speaks well of the education he has received.

“They didn’t like my mother or me. Ensuring everyone knew of unstable Mo Xuanyu meant no one would consider me for inheritance.”

That is Lan Wangji’s assumption at least. Mo Xuanyu’s ritual seemed like something out of Wei Ying’s notes and given that is a problem in and of itself. He’s been dead for over a decade and in the Cloud Recesses, Wei Ying should have been safe and his notes inaccessible to anyone.

Another reason Lan Wangji had to hurry back to the Cloud Recesses.

Lan Sizhui signs again and Lan Jingyi speaks, “We are sorry to hear that. There will be no such discrimination at the Cloud Recesses, I promise.”

There will not? Lan Wangji wonders what happened to his sects in the aftermath of his death, if they are less torn in their decisions nowadays.

“Thank you.”

Traveling with Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi is pleasant. Lan Wangji has no sword, but Lan Sizhui carries him on his own for large chunks of the travel. While in flight, they sign to each other more or less non-stop, having a conversation Lan Wangji cannot follow but finds practical. Every sect has a few hand signs for flight to communicate in an emergency as screaming at each other over the wind is just impossible, but nothing quite this advanced.

It does, however, take a run-in with a yao, Lan Sizhui’s fingers sustaining breaks, before the two Juniors exchange looks and pull a talisman from their pockets.

“You can’t tell anyone about this,” says Lan Jingyi. “You saved us, so I trust you’re a good guy.”

Lan Wangji nods, promising nothing. If they’re up to mischief, someone should know. Instead, Lan Sizhui activates the talisman with a light touch and keeps one hand on it.

Thank you, appears in light blue lettering.

“It’s more convenient for me to communicate with others like this if they’re capable of reading instead of relying on Jingyi,” says Lan Sizhui’s writing.

The technique is not a sect secret as far as Lan Wangji knows. At least it wasn’t when he was still alive.

“Are outsiders not meant to know?” he asks.

“Nobody is,” Lan Sizhui answers. “My father developed the talisman for me. Only Jingyi knows.”

“I think Sect Leader Lan suspects,” Lan Jingyi adds. “But as long as he doesn’t say anything about it, we’re not saying anything either. It’s not lying and we didn’t break any rules.”

Lan Sizhui grimaces. “We do break them a little. A-Die isn’t meant to write any talismans.”

“He isn’t supposed to write anything at all,” Lan Jingyi shoots back, sounding like he’s had this argument a thousand times before. “I don’t get it, it’s been ages. All he does is wait for you to visit, cook, garden, and have tea with Sect Leader Lan. He doesn’t even have a core to cultivate, why does everyone—”

Lan Sizhui shoves his elbow into Lan Jingyi’s side, giving him a very pointed look.

“… I’m sorry, Senior Mo,” Lan Jingyi says. “I didn’t mean to speak so out of tune. We should reach home in two days.”

Lan Wangji inclines his head.

#mdzs #lan wangji #lan jingyi #lan sizhui #wangxian #fanfic #mdzs fanfic