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luxaofhesperides · 6 months

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Accidental Bride Sacrifice ; requested by @starlightcat04!

Danny has long since gotten used to the feel of summonings. They don’t happen often, but sometimes the right components are put together to force him into answering, and he’d have to go as the new Ghost King.

Which no one told him was a thing! He hadn’t protested too much about the whole Ghost King deal when they finally told him about it after he graduated high school. It gave him a good excuse to ditch life in the living realm and not worry about college or a career, and let him really embrace his ghost side.

The summonings are a problem, though. They always feel staticky and bad, like a dumpster that just got struck by lightning. The taste of iron on his tongue, a clear sign of blood being spilled, lets him know that it would be one of end the world for us summonings, because some people can’t put in the effort to do it themselves, apparently.

But this time, the summoning feels different.

Danny pauses, eyes going unfocused in the middle of his conversation with Jazz. He had been looking forward to spending the week with her, now that she’s on winter break, but his luck is as bad as always.

“I’m being summoned,” he tells her, cutting off her rant about a transphobic professor she had.

“Oh, no. Do you need me to do anything? Should I go with you to beat up whoever it is that’s summoning you?”

Danny tilts his head to the side, considering. The taste of blood is noticeably absent. In fact, this summoning pull doesn’t make him feel sick at all. It makes him feel warm, as if he’s just been wrapped in a hug.

“No,” he says. “I think I’m good. This one feels different.”

“A good different?” Jazz asks, worry clear in her voice.

“Yeah. A good different. I’ll come back soon, okay?”

“Alright. Be careful, Danny.” Jazz pulls him into a quick hug, then steps back to watch as Danny stops fighting the pull of the summoning and disappears into a swirling white rings that flashes into existence behind him, blinding her for a moment, and is gone when she manages to blink the spots out of her vision.

For a minute, Danny drifts in a void of stillness, traveling through the realms as the summoning draws him closer to the correct realm. And then he’s rising out of the ground in a dark building made of concrete, candles of green flame scattered all over the place.

“Great One!” someone in a hooded cloak cries, raising his arms in jubilation. “Our calls have been answered!”

“I’ll fucking kill you!” a mechanical voice yells from farther back. When Danny looks past the cultists’ heads, he spots a man in a red hood and leather jacket chained to a pole, along with a bunch of other people in strange costumes tied up, desperately trying to free themselves.

“Silence!” The leader of the cult, or who Danny assumes is the leader, snaps at the hooded man and gestures to the people off to his left. They force another costumed person forward, this one in yellow armor. He can see the blood running down their face from beneath their helmet and from their nose, dark lines of blood cutting through their brown skin.

The cultists throw the armored person forward, forcing them to kneel. Then they bow to Danny and step back.

“Great One,” the leader says, voice unpleasantly reverent and grating, “Welcome to the mortal realms. We offer you this sacrifice to feed your strength. He will make a fine general for your undead army in your crusade to rid this world of its filth.”

The people in the back begin shouting all together, panicked voices overlapping, and Danny is left staring down at the cultists in shock.

The summoning had felt so nice. What the hell was this? He did not sign up for another ‘end of days’ insane cult. He just wanted to be hugged.

His silence makes the cultists nervous. They begin to shift uneasily, whispering to each other, and the leader clears his throat, then pulls a large crystal dagger out of his cloak. “We shall prove our devotion to you through an offering of a hero’s blood!”

And then he moves towards the sacrifice and Danny snaps out of his shock to yell, “Wait!”

The entire room freezes. Even the costumed people in the back go still.

Danny winces, then tries to smother his power, make himself more palatable to the humans of this dimension. “Wait,” he says again, and he sounds closer to human now. If he could, he would drop his ghost form entirely, but he knows better than to endanger himself like that. “What, exactly, did you summon me here for?”

The cult leader stares at him for a moment. “To… To rid the world of filth and allow your loyal followers to spread word of your power. You will be worshiped again, Great One, and serve as a reminder to man that Death shall always prevail.”

“Okay, I get that, but I was talking more along the lines of the summoning. What ritual did you use? What specifically were the summoning requirements?”

Normally, he’d be able to figure it out himself, but these cultists didn’t use a summoning circle. So they did something else, something less visible and therefore harder to figure out, in order to bring him here.

A woman standing off to the side speaks up, stepping forward hesitantly. “I had pieced together a few summoning spells from this book to bring you here. You had to accept our chosen sacrifice to your side in order for the summoning to work.”

“Hold up that book for me, please?”

She does, and Danny flies down to grab it from her hands. “Point out which lines you used,” he says, already reading a few of the words written down. It’s definitely ghostspeak written down, which should be near impossible for living humans to translate without being skilled in magic.

“Ah, these ones.” She points to each line, reading them out for him, and Danny starts understand what, exactly, went wrong.

“Is there a problem, Great One?”

Danny returns the book then floats over to the sacrifice and picks him up. The costumed people make alarmed noises, but quietly quiet down again when all Danny does is move him away from the cultists.

“Okay,” he says, “So. The lines you used to summon me were not translated properly. What you interpreted as ‘accepted to stay by the king’s side in loyalty and strength’ is not meant to be, like, him being part of my undead army or whatever. It’s a royal marriage vow.”

“They married us?” the sacrifice shouts, disbelieving. The cult leader buries his face in his hands and sighs.

“My deepest apologies, Great One. We meant no offense. We simply wanted to aid in your destruction of this depraved world.”

Danny scrunches his nose and shakes his head. “Yeah, that’s not gonna fly with me. I do not do the biding of random people, especially those who are ready to murder innocent people for no reason. Frighty, if you would.” He snaps his fingers, calling up Fright Knight who always enjoys getting to torment the people who summon Danny for murderous reasons.

Fright Knight appears in a swirl of darkness and screams. Shadows swallow the room, and when they recede, no cultists remain.

“Thanks, Frighty. Have fun with them. I need to figure out all… this.”

Fright Knight bows to him, then disappears. Danny lets out a breath, then floats down lower to be eye level with the sacrifice. “Hey,” he says gently, with a smile, “I’m so sorry they did this to you. I’m Danny. What’s your name?”

“Du— Uh, Signal,” the sacrifice says, sounding rather dazed.

“Signal,” Danny repeats. “Like… a traffic signal?”

“No. I mean, maybe? But it is Signal. That’s my hero name, not my real name.”

“Oh, you’re a hero!” His getup makes more sense now. Danny checks him over for any signs of injuries. So far, only his head and nose seem to be injured, but his wrists are tightly bound behind his back. Carefully, Danny calls upon his ice and shapes it into a sharp knife, then cuts through the zipties.

He helps Signal up to his feet, floating by his shoulder. “All good?”

“Yeah, man, all good. Let me just get the others free.”

“Oh, I can do it!” Danny flies over to the other costumed people, who must also be heroes. All it takes is one link in the chain being frozen and broken for the entire thing to go lax, allowing them to free themselves. Hooded guy spares Danny a single glance, then hurries over to Signal to check on him. The other three, a man with a blue bird across his chest, a blond girl with a yellow bat outline on her chest, and a guy with bandoliers and a golden bird emblem, all watch him warily as he floats back towards the center of the room.

“So,” the blue bird man says, “If they summoned you with a marriage vow, and you accepted, does that mean you’re planning to steal Signal away from us?” He’s smiling, but it’s not a nice smile.

“No! I had no idea they did this! I am so sorry you all got caught up in this. You most of all, Signal.”

Signal shrugs, nudging hood guy away from him. “Nah, man, it’s all good. This is definitely the better outcome.”

“I don’t know, being married off isn’t really a good thing.”

“Hey, at least they married me off to a decent guy.”

“You don’t know that,” Danny says, “What if I’m secretly evil?”

“If you were secretly evil, you’d be destroying the world right now. I think you’re fine.”

The blond girl waves at him, demanding his attention. “Quick question! They were calling you ‘Great One’. Are you a god or something?”

“Not really? I’m the Ghost King. So I’m a ghost who rules over other ghosts and also a majority of the Infinite Realms.”

She nods as if this is all totally normal for her, then shoots Signal a grin. “Congrats on bagging a king! Not the worst way to spend a night, right?”

“Can you break the marriage?” blue bird man asks, the lines of his shoulders tense.

Danny awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, not looking any of them in the eye. “I honestly don’t know. I can look for a way! But I genuinely have no clue. This was unexpected.”

“But you accepted.”

“I didn’t know what I expected! It just felt like a hug, and I wanted a hug! I thought I was being summoned for something nice for once!” Danny curls up, bringing his knees up to his chest, and hides his pout behind his hands. He knows he’s being childish, but he can’t help but be upset that he couldn’t have this one good experience from being Ghost King.

It’s always responsibilities and death cult summonings and fighting ghosts who don’t think he should be king. Sure there have been some good things, but they’re comparatively few when looking at all the other stress and pain that comes with the crown. Sue him for wanting to have a nice night for once. Hell, at this point, he’d take being summoned to help with some kid’s homework, because at least then he could have a quiet night helping someone.

“Hey, man, can you come down here?” Signal asks.

He wants to stay out of reach, hiding himself away for a bit longer, but Signal is his new, surprise, accidental husband, so Danny lowers himself to the ground and peeks through his fingers to look at him.

He tenses when Signal hugs him, soft and warm and comforting. It takes a moment for him to realize what’s going on, and then he’s melting into Signal’s embrace, dropping his hands to wrap them around Signal’s back.

Distantly, he can hear the other heroes talking quietly amongst themselves. He blocks out the sound as much as he can, determined to enjoy this hug while it lasts.

Which is… fairly long. Signal makes no moves to end the hug, so Danny closes his eyes to really savor the moment.

“So,” Signal murmurs into his ear, “As newlyweds, how about we get to know each other a bit better before we start working on fixing all this?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Let’s ditch these guys and take some time to ourselves.”

“I promise I’ll get this fixed,” he says, just to make sure Signal knows. “Genuinely, I am so sorry to have married you through an old Realms vow when you had no say in it.”

“Hey, if it lands me a very nice, very attractive king, then I don’t mind at all. I could have done without the murderous cultists, though.”

Danny huffs out a small laugh. “Oh, for sure. Thanks for being so cool about this. Want me to fly us out of here?”

“Yes please,” Signal says. Danny smiles and tightens his grip on Signal, then lifts them both up. “I’ll see y’all later! Have fun with the rest of your patrols!” he calls out to the other heroes, who start shouting at him.

Danny flies them right out the roof before the other heroes figure out a way to kick his ass. The city they’re in is smoggy and dark, tall buildings rising up into the cloudy sky, and police sirens ring through the air. There’s no where that looks like a particularly nice spot to land for a conversation, so he asks Signal where he’d like to go and follows his directions from there.

They end up phasing through a building, then into the floor, which leaves them in what Signal calls The Hatch.

Danny takes a quick moment to freak out over being in a hero’s secret hide out, the composes himself and finally pulls away from Signal.

“So,” he starts, looking around The Hatch and taking in the giant computer, the workstation, the motorcycle farther down the way, “What did you—Woah!” Danny spins around, slamming a hand over his eyes the instant he realizes that Signal is taking off his helmet, leaving his face bare.

It’s not like he’d know who Signal is anyways, being from a different dimension, but it’s the principle of the matter.

Signal laughs when he sees Danny’s attempt to keep from looking at him. A warm hand wraps around his wrist and gently pulls it away. “It’s okay, Danny, you can look,” he says. “It would be pretty weird if my own husband didn’t know my face.”

Slowly, giving Signal to change his mind, Danny opens his eyes. He moves his gaze up, going from Signal’s armor to his face, his very cute face and his warm brown eyes, and Danny stares for a moment.

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi,” Signal says, fondness coloring his voice. “My name’s Duke. Are all Ghost Kings as cute as you?”

“Duke,” Danny repeats. “Hi. Um, no. The last one really sucked, actually, which is why I fought him. He was so bad the Infinite Realms didn’t want him anymore, so though I technically didn’t beat him in single combat, it was enough for the Infinite Realms to kick him out and get me on the throne.”

“Man, I can not wait to hear more of your stories. Think we got time for that while we search for a way to undo that marriage vow?”

Taking his chance, Danny says, “Sure! It’s a date.”

He’s awarded by Duke’s bright smile and idly wonders how long he can keep them married. Hopefully long enough for them to get into a real relationship where he can propose properly. And then he can get Jazz’s blessing too—

“Oh shit,” Danny realizes.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I need to tell my sister or she’s going to actually kill me.”

Duke winces. “And I should probably tell the others before Spoiler makes a mess of things… B is not going to be happy with me.”

They share a despairing look, already dreading the amount of scoldings they’re both going to get. He’s not looking forward to it.

“...Put it off until tomorrow?”

Duke nods. “Yeah. That’s a tomorrow problem. For now, how about a late dinner?”

“Sounds perfect.”

. . .

[send me a ghostlights prompt!]

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dpxdc fanfic #dp x dc fic #prompt fill #my writing #dukes pov is just: u're abt to be sacrificed. u're mildly concussed. a cute guy glowing like the north star saved u and is now ur husband #he's had a night but all in all it ended pretty nicely!#they're gonna work together and just hang out while trying to undo the marriage summoning ritual and find they're super compatible #and then in a few years they'll be marrying each other for real :)#thanks for the prompt!!

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noisilyscreechingsong · 7 months

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Danny ran away.

The classic reveal didn’t go right/ the GIW is hunting to him/ everyone is dead. You pick.

He’s alone. In Gotham. With nothing.

Staying in the city makes sense, right? Except for the crazy rogues he doesn’t want to get involved in or the straight up normal humans dressing up to fight them. Danny wasn’t touching that with a 10 foot pole. So he travelled further to the outskirts where he hoped to find a cabin some rich family only stays in for the summer.

Instead he finds rich mansions hidden back in the trees with big tall gates keeping everyone out. Most had people living there (he checked), all except for this one.

He’s only seen a kid, maybe ten, go in and out for school and sneaking out late at night.

Danny thinks he’s smart, sneaking in to snag some food and rest a bit when he knows the kid is gone. He doesn’t account for if the boy comes back earlier than normal.

Wide, surprised eyes meet wide, panicked eyes. Danny doesn’t even shove the next bite of Mac and Cheese in his mouth before he’s booking it to the nearest window.

“Wait!” Danny doesn’t wait. “You don’t have to go!”

Danny slows to a stop. Um, what?

He turns to give the boy a look but he doesn’t cringe back. The kid steps forward, almost impulsively.

“You’re the one who’s been stealing food and sleeping in the guest bedroom in the west wing, right?”

How the heck did he know where Danny was taking a nap? He always made sure to fix the bed when he left.

The boy continues without any answer.

“You don’t have to keep hiding. You can stay. I’ll provide you food and clothes and you can pick whatever room you want to stay in.”

Danny doesn’t know what’s gotten into the kid, but he suddenly feels flat footed and so off balanced.

“Why?” He asks incredulously. Why do all that for him? Why trust a strange teenager in his home? Why bother with him? He’s obviously homeless and has been stealing from him.

The boy’s lips thin slightly like he doesn’t want to say. Like he’s embarrassed.

Instead he says, “You had dozens of chances to steal any of the priceless artifacts in this house, but instead you only steal enough food for yourself and to rest.”

Okay. Yea, that was technically true and he could see the boy is thinking he figured out Danny’s personality by just that (it reminds him of Jazz how confident the kid is), but that doesn’t mean he’s trustworthy!

He goes to tell the kid off for thinking he knows anything about some random teen that keeps breaking into his house, but then notices the way the boy is holding himself.

“You’re hurt.”

The boy jolts like he wasn’t expecting Danny to notice at all. He looks down and adjusts his weight a bit.

“Uh…”

“Did you twist your ankle?” Danny guesses.

The boy mutely nods, looking at him with wide eyes with too much emotion to decipher.

“Well come sit down, don’t keep standing on it, dummy.”

The boy quickly makes his way over to sit delicately on the edge of the couch cushion. Danny goes to the freezer where he knows he saw an ice pack once when he was going through it.

Danny helps the kid turn and lay back until he can elevate the foot under a pillow and set the cold ice pack over the sock. The boy is still staring at him with those wide, intense eyes.

“Ice it for a while and after you take a shower I’ll wrap it for you. Where’s your first aid kit?”

“The first floor bathroom.”

“Which one? You have three.”

“Four actually. You missed the one in the laundry room.”

Danny gives him a look.

“Kid.”

“Tim,” the boy corrects happily. “My name is Tim. Timothy Drake.”

Danny just looks back for a few moments at what is undoubtedly a flicker of hope in those blue eyes. He sighs.

“I’m Danny.”

And a weird friendship was born. Or more of a sibling-ship? Brotherhood? They teeter over the line of friend and family daily.

Danny did stay and Tim was thrilled to have someone else in the house, someone that wasn’t cold or professional towards him. They played games together and joked and taught each other things.

Danny was good at fixing anything that was broken and was the one to do any errands while Tim was at school. He was also the one who had to teach Tim how to be a brother.

Tim on the other hand seemed to be good at everything but letting himself relax. He was a hyper and intelligent kid whose mind was always active, so Danny had to accommodate and come up with crazy games and tasks for the boy in the disguise of requests, but he also made the boy sit down with him to watch crappy movies and just relax together.

They had fun, but they also had bumps and misunderstands. Danny nearly blew his top when Tim snuck out to spy on Batman and Robin without telling him (and wasn’t that a conversation to remember when the Danny found out what he was really doing at night). And Tim had a problem with lying to try and make Danny not worry, which ended up doing the opposite.

They got through those hiccups together though because they were both too possessive to let the other go that easily.

Tim created a fake identity for Danny saying they were cousins. The same black hair and blue eyes kinda sold it with a backstory of Danny’s mother being disowned by Janet’s parents. Jack and Janet weren’t home enough (or invested enough) to confirm or deny.

It was funny though watching Tim stare after Jason Todd-Wayne longingly for a while, but enough was enough. If Tim secretly wanted to befriend his idol, then Danny would make it happen. And he did of course. He made friends with the butler after ‘losing’ a frisbee in their yard and asked if they could get together for dinner one night so Tim and Jason could hang out outside of school. Alfred obviously knew Danny was pushing for Tim’s sake, but he still agreed easily enough.

So became a normal for the Wayne’s and the Drake’s to eat dinner together at least once a month. And after many meetings Danny mentally checked them off as ‘okay enough for vigilantes’ and stayed behind while the two younger boys ran off to go play a game before they headed home next door.

“Mr. Wayne?”

“Come now, you know you can call me Bruce, Danny,” the man smiles. It’s a little too wide, but Danny understands he’s still trying to put on the Brucie mask. He really wish he wouldn’t.

“Right, Bruce.” He fidgets for a second with his hoodie strings and he can feel Bruce’s attention zero in on the motion. “I need to ask you a favor.”

The air turns tense with the silence after that.

“What’s wrong, Danny? Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine! Promise. I just- I just need you to promise me something. Please.”

Danny felt so awkward. He has never relied on an adult before, always doing everything himself or with other kids, something Tim and him have in common. So to turn to Bruce Wayne was out of character, but he wasn’t really. He was asking Batman, and him Danny could trust a little more.

“Promise you what?”

Danny could hear the barely covered suspicion in his voice.

“If- If something happens and I’m not around anymore, I need you to take Tim in,” he states, looking at the man full on to show how serious a matter this was.

The man stares back equally serious.

“What would happen to you? Are you in some kind of trouble?” Bruce asks.

Danny shakes his head hard.

“I’m not into drugs, Bruce. Or a gang or gambling or anything like that okay? I don’t owe any debt someone’s coming after me for. I just need insurance, some piece of mind that if something did happen that meant I couldn’t take care of Tim, there would be someone to look after him.”

Bruce stares back, thinking, for several moments.

“Tim has parents, Danny, I don’t know what you expect me to do. And what do you mean you take care of him? Don’t you boys have a caretaker?”

“Of course we don’t. We look after each other, but I’m the oldest. His parents are never home. I’m not exaggerating, they were in Gotham for only fifty-four days last year. They missed Tim’s birthday, holidays, everything. He’s still a kid, he needs someone to be there for him and if I’m suddenly gone then he has no one. Promise me that won’t happen. Promise me you’ll take him in, that you’ll figure out a way to keep him with you so he at least has Jason and you and Alfred.”

Bruce is silent for a while and Danny knows what he’s struggling with. He didn’t really want to use his trump card, but desperate measures.

“We already know who you are. You don’t have to worry about him finding out your secret.”

All traces of the Brucie mask drops at that confession and Batman analyzes him.

“How?”

“Tim is a really smart kid,” he just says with a fond smile. “He’s known for a while too, so you know he won’t go blabbing to the media or whatever.”

“What about you?”

“If I wanted to blackmail you, don’t you think I would have led with that? I don’t care what you do in your free time, but it’s not my business to tell.”

Danny shrugs and tries not to squirm under being scrutinized.

“Since you know who I am, if you are in trouble or ever need help, you can come to me.”

Danny blinks.

“Yea, that’s what I’m doing. So do you promise?”

Bruce nods once, very controlled.

“Yes. I promise you that I will take care of Tim Drake if anything happens to you,” the man vows solemnly.

Danny smiles back, shoulders sagging in relief.

“Thank you.”

When Danny somehow saves Jason from dying, and two months later goes missing, Bruce has to honor that promise while also tracking down the teenager to bring home to a very distraught Tim.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton #danny phantom #batman #story ideas #tim drake #bruce wayne #jason todd #batman and robin #Tim knows #Tim and Danny are like brothers #Danny just wants Tim to be happy and safe #Tim strong arms his way into helping the vigilantes find Danny #probably GIW’s fault

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alastorss · 2 months

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Hi!!! I'm currently absolutely DYING of sickness, and i was wondering if i could request smth with alastor with a sick reader since im stuck in bed til further notice and very sad lolsies anyways, i hope you have a good day!!<3

a/n: hii my love!! i hope you have a speedy recovery and feel better soon <3333

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Had he known you would have turned out so miserable, Alastor would have just given you his damn jacket whether you liked it or not.

Instead he's stuck babysitting; watching your fever, making sure you're drinking enough water; even keeping the time between your medications.

He had, of course, offered you his coat after he saw you coming out of the club with Angel Dust with clothes not suited for the chilly night. And you, stubborn as ever, refused it saying it would be too embarrassing to risk ending up in the newsletter.

"Imagine the headlines! You know Vox is always watching!" You had argued when he held out his coat for you to take. He could only smile indignantly at you.

Thinking back, he probably should have used a more authoritative tone. Then again, he would rather claw his eyes out than give you the idea that he cares about you.

He has no time to regret his decisions anymore, now busy with making sure you don't get worse with what little medicine there is in Hell.

"Your congestion sounds just terrible, my dear!"

You scowl at him from your place. "Gee, thanks."

"You really should take better care of yourself. Parading around in such thin clothes all night? You were bound to get sick eventually!"

"Like I need you telling me what to do," you grumble.

"I am just saying," he shrugs. "I do hate to see you so unwell."

You perk up a little, curiously looking at him as he perches on the end of the bed. "You do?"

He bites the inside of his cheek at the little glimmer in your eyes. You're not in the right headspace at the moment. It would be wrong to think you're looking at him so hopefully for any real reason.

"Don't push it," he laughs, scooting closer to you on the bed to feel your forehead.

You owlishly blink at him while he gauges your temperature with a little jazz tune in his throat. "What's your verdict, doctor?"

He grins down at you, a warmth behind it. "Bedrest would do you some good."

You frown, fluffing the blanket and diving beneath it. "Easier said than done when it's so damn cold."

Alastor regards you for a moment, watching you shiver. No, he really shouldn't let such a sight tug at his heartstrings. But his hands are moving faster than he can think, and his coat is slipping off his shoulders before he knows what he's doing.

You get engulfed by his coat, already warm from his body.

"You should get some rest," he tells you, voice missing its usual cheer. Gathering his staff, he gets ready to leave you be.

"Wait, Alastor!" The demon raises a brow at you as you hug his jacket around you, smiling all the while. He feels disgustingly warm and fuzzy inside at how content you seem.

This is correct, he thinks. His jacket slung over you—this is how it should have been all this time.

"Thank you."

He reaches down to tug at the collar, pulling it tight around you. "Just recover quickly so I can stop babysitting," he mumbles with a growing smile.

taglist: @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 @cxrsedwxrlds @amarokofficial @anae-naea-zacheria @for-hearthand-home @fantasy-is-best @angixyc @th3-st4r-gur1 @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it (send an ask to be added!)

#🍓 faye's thoughts <3 #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin x reader #alastor fanfic #alastor fanfiction #alastor fic #alastor headcanons #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x you #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin #hazbin hotel headcanons

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minty364 · 2 months

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DPXDC Prompt #43 Part 1

Everything had been going well on their trip. Danny was going to tell his parents all about his past, and about being the half dead ghost king. Unfortunately, Danny’s life had a reputation for how terribly unlucky he was. He and his family were caught off guard, and even Danny couldn’t prevent himself from fainting when hit in the back of the head with what he assumed must have been something metal.

When he came too he could tell his arms were bound together behind his back and there were two others adjacent to him. He didn’t shift or open his eyes to avoid letting their abductors know he was awake. He could hear some soft tapping that almost sounded like chalk. There were hushed whispers but they were too muffled to hear. He couldn’t tell how much time had passed but he was starting to get a little bored. He knew his family was probably with him, they were right next to him and would have noticed him getting kidnapped.

Eventually he heard a rustling sound next to him, they must be waking up too, “Maddie? Danny?” Their soft voice spoke.

There wasn’t a reply but that meant Danny was correct, well at least about his dad. He wasn’t 100% sure if mom and Jazz were here but he needed to figure out a way to get out of this without letting their kidnappers know he had powers.

Another shift this time in the opposite direction. “Mom? Danny?”

“Jazzie-Pants!! Are you okay? They didn’t hurt you did they?” His words were a bit panicked and almost made Danny reveal his awareness.

“No. I’m fine, Dad? Where are we?” Jazz sounded more annoyed than worried.

A voice interrupted them before their dad could respond, “Quiet hunter scum,” the bags were removed from all of their heads and then ice water was thrown out of a bucket at them. Everyone else groaned as they were shocked awake by how cold it was.

Danny figured there was no use pretending to sleep now so he opened his eyes. They had been captured by cultists and were tied next to each other with a large circle drawn out in chalk. The circle, from some of the runes Danny could make out, looked like a summoning one. Upon further examination they looked more closely to the ones that would summon him, too bad it won’t work since he’s already here… They don’t know that though, and he could use this opportunity to mess with them.

One of the cultists, probably the leader, stepped forward and started speaking toward his followers and started a really long winded speech but a couple things caught Danny’s attention. One they were sacrificing him and his family because his parents hunted ghosts so the Ghost King would of course seek revenge. Two there were five of them there, that meant an extra person was tied up as a sacrifice as well. Who that was Danny didn’t know but he had to save them, he’d get them all out of here.

“That’s all quite fascinating but what does this have to do with me?” A familiar voice said. Danny knew exactly who the voice belonged too and it wasn’t his Mom, Dad, or sister. The fifth person happened to be his twin brother whom he hadn’t spoken to since before he faked his death.

Damian, from the sound of his voice, was behind Danny probably on the other side of his Dad. Danny hadn’t said anything yet so Damian was unaware Danny was there. The dark cavern like room didn’t allow a lot of room for light but there were quite a few candles and torches illuminating the space.

Before anyone could say anything else a loud crash was heard, Danny couldn’t see as the noise was behind him and the room descended into chaos.

Master Post:

#dp x dc prompt #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny fenton #danny phantom #danny and damian are twins #they got kidnapped by cultists #They get rescued in the next one #shenanigans #my asks are open #all my prompts are free to use #im glad tags that you use often pop up for you to use #I feel like I’m forgetting something though

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starry-bi-sky · 4 days

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Danyal Al Ghul: Incorrect Quotes and Miscellaneous Thoughts

Incorrect quotes-style snippets specifically for my danyal al ghul au here (which i really need to come up with a unique au name for atp). Because I thought it'd be funny. And also some miscellaneous headcanons thrown into the mix. Some context for the au: - Danyal is 5 years older than Damian (so 10 and 15) - Danny faked his death when he was 10. Talia knows and helped him with it. - Jazz, Sam, and Tucker do not know he's an ex-assassin.

-------- Snippet 1

Danny, dryly tapping his temple: I have, as the Americans say, irreparable psychological damage, right here.

Jazz, an older sibling first and foremost: well, it's good that you're self-aware.

-------- Snippet 2

Danny, aged 10, in the American foster planning to just age out of the system: *emanating Bad Vibes. Pure, Little Orphan Tom Riddle Energy*

Jazz, aged 12, coming in to adopt a new sibling with her parents: Him. This is my brother now :)

Danny: ...what

--------

Lilo and Stitch is Danny's favorite Disney movie. He watched it when he was 11 with Jazz when she was attempting to connect with him, and by this point Danny was becoming receptive to her efforts. They had a movie marathon in the living room one night.

Safe to say? It resonated with his little 11 year old heart strongly, and he related very strongly with both Nani and Stitch. He got unexpectedly emotional and hid in his room for the rest of the night. Jazz felt really bad, but it had the intended (but kinda unexpected) effect of him trying to be nicer to her afterwards.

-------- Snippet 3

Dash, aged 12, causing trouble again and getting intercepted by Danny: *scaling up a desk* AHHHHH! GET YOUR LITTLE FREAK, FOLEY!

Tucker: Hey! Danny is not a freak!

Dash: GET HIM TO BACK OFF

Tucker, was the kid Dash was messing with: ....whats in it for me

-------- Snippet 4

Danny, saying some questionably immoral shit: What. Why are you looking at me like that.

Tucker: Bro. I mean this as kindly as possible; what the fuck?

Sam: yeah, I'm with Tuck on this one.

-------- Snippet 5

Danny, ranting about Vlad: if it weren't for the laws of this land, I would have slaughtered him

Sam, painting his nails black: I'm pretty sure you'd slaughter him regardless of the laws of the land -- and quit moving, you're gonna mess me up.

Tucker: we've literally seen you debate yourself about this, Dan

Danny: ...you are correct, but it is the principle of things.

-------- Snippet 6

Vlad: I have experience my child, and the money and power attained through using those powers for personal gain, you say. I could train you, teach you everything I know! And all you have to do is renounce that idiot adoptive father of yours.

Danny, was already contemplating committing a Violence: ....

Danny, internally: I'm going to stab him *turns into Phantom*

--------

Funny contrast I realized between Danyal and Vlad that iirc I haven't pointed out yet is that imo, Danyal doesn't rely on his powers nearly half as much as canon Danny does. He falls back instinctually on his League training, and thus sometimes forgets to use his powers in battle. This was prevalent especially early on when he was still getting used to the whole 'halfa' thing.

He incorporates them more often after a year, but still for the most part relies on his own physical hand-to-hand combat. He trusts those skills much more than he does his powers. I'm not sure where he is on a technical level compared to canon, but just to stay safe I'll say he's similar in power skill as canon Danny. Perhaps a little more finessed than him because his League training would probably have him trying to figure out his powers as soon as possible.

But in summary? Danny is strong in hand-to-hand combat, weak in powerset.

Meanwhile Vlad is the opposite. I can't recall if he even knows hand-to-hand in canon, but it makes total sense to me that Vlad Masters wouldn't because he's so confident in his monetary influence and ghost abilities that he sees no need for it.

And he's kinda got some merit behind it. He's very powerful and has 20 years of experience to experiment and fine tune his powers. He's got bite to follow up his bark. He's perfected long-range combat and his ability to phase through walls makes it impossible to corner him, but if you can manage it, then one good hit could probably knock him on his ass.

So in summary, Vlad is strong in powerset, weak in hand-to-hand combat.

And it casts a good contrast between the two of them in that regard. Danny, as a fellow halfa, can follow Vlad when he phases through walls and is fast enough to land a hit on him. His league training as an assassin, albeit rusty, is still deep ingrained enough in him that he can hold up as a rather veritable threat against Vlad without needing his powers.

But Vlad can force Danny to use his powers more often through use of his own. The duplication is the first thing to come to mind: Danny's fast enough to dispel them on his own without powers, and smart enough that he could figure out who the real one is if given a few minute. But that's not always efficient enough.

Good foils for each other that way. Also Vlad's Plasmius design mimics Ra's juuust enough that he looks like Ra's knockoff loser second cousin no one talks about, which only fuels Danny's hatred.

-------- Snippet 7

Danny, ranting about Vlad for the first time: --and it's only made worse by the fact that the little ingrate resembles a cheap knock-off of my grandfather!--

Sam, choking on her water: he what--

Tucker, doing a spittake: HE DOES?

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #danyal al ghul au #i have a doodle of that little scene with vlad actually. its in my notebook lmao.#danny gets *furiously* shakespearan when he's insulting someone. sam and tucker have recorded some of his rants #and they are just pure gold.#sam and tucker calling danny 'dan' as a nickname 2024.#which reminds me about how TUE would even happen. someone in my ao3 comments made a good point about how they weren't sure if my danyal #would even have a TUE occur because he's not the cheating type. i've seen clips of how he got his hands on the test answers but i'll need t #watch the episode to gauge if Dan is even feasible. and if he is what changes to make him happen. hmmm. much to think about #don't think danyal would stay with vlad even in the midst of his grief. hmhmhm #dpdc

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impyssadobsessions · 5 months

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DPXDC Enemy of my Enemy is the Worse "Excerpts" (Part 1?) I have more Ideas

Okay I kepy thinking about the prompt Enemy of my Enemy is the Worse I made LOL- (gonna post excerpts.) Probably wont fully write this.. as much as I like to right now LOL. If this inspires anyone to write, go for it.

"So now what? Going to vivisect me? Experiment? Rip my molecules apart like how my-Mr. Fenton keeps telling me." "Unfortunately, no." Agent K grumbles. "And its dissection, not-" Agent O tries to correct. "I maybe dead-but I'm not THAT dead." Danny rolled his eyes, flashing them at the two men in white. He can't believe any of this is happening. Oh he wished he listened to Jazz.. or Sam or Tuck more. He pulled at his ghost proof bindings, them having him ridiculously buried in the restraints. "Actually, Mr. Phantom, is it? I wanted to talk." Another bald man walks in, his suit notably black. Danny raised his eyebrow unimpressed, "What? Is it the Guys in Black and White now? Not that I'm against it, I'm all for equality, but it does seem a little off brand. I'm guessing the bleach bill is getting too high." Agent O was about to speak out- when the guy in black raised his hand to silence him. This guy only looked slightly amused, which gave Danny the creeps. "Of course not. That'd be ridiculous, though I'm not against inclusivity either. I'm Lex Luthor, and it is my recent interest in ghosts that had allowed the GIW to reach its full potential. " "So another annoying billionaire. Great."

"So you know of me? Perfect, then we can keep this simple. In truth, I am only interested in one ghost in particular." "We can capture him without involving ourselves with this scum-" "This GHOST has not only evaded my notice for YEARS, but has been stealing very valuable technology that would go beyond NASA's comprehension. Though I don't doubt your expertise, it has not come without notice that this particular ghost is seen the most-" Lex flicked his eyes down at Phantom. "With you." Agent K and O unrolled paper from their suits to reveal a picture of Plasmius. "The Wisconsin Ghost." - "Plasmius?!" Danny spoke same time the Agents did. Lex smirked at the Agents then down at Phantom. Danny took a moment to register what was going on before busting out laughing. "Really? What makes you think I'm buddy buddy with Plasmius? He's a total fruitloop and honestly- not surprise. He steals blueprints from my p---Dr. Fentons all the time." "You steal their items as well, if we recall." Agent K raised a brow. "Well-I- Just because- YOU USE THEIR BLUEPRINTS TOO!" "Enough. " Lex starting to sound annoyed, Danny felt like it was a win. Serves bastard right. Man did he hate billionaires. "I've observed your work in Amity Park. If I dare say you are quite similar to many of the masked vigilantes that plague this Earth. Even more heroic in my opinion." Danny was not biting at whatever trick Lex was pulling. Though he didn't miss the skip of his core at being recognized something other than a menace. 'He's lying to you.' he repeated in his head. Pulling on his bindings again to remember the real situation before him.

"That being said, I like you to do as heroes do and capture this criminal, then bring him to me." "Look, thanks for the compliment- but we both know I'm not seen as a hero. So why don't you quit the buttering 'cause I'm not interested in culinary and tell me what's in it for me. Even though I'm barely c-average on the best of days, I'm not dumb. I'm not doing this for free or just some lame you will be spared nonsense. Been there done that." Lex smirked again, "I'll grant you immunity from GIW and you can have your haunt back." "Wait? What?!" "But it took so long to capture him-" "IF you manage to capture Plasmius and bring him to me before GIW can." Danny glanced at the two agents as they puffed out their chests. Cocky. They really think they could capture Vlad? Then painfully reminded himself that they did catch him. "And if I don't agree?" "We DISSECT you and use you for very unethical and highly painful experiments that are legal on subjects like yourself." Agent K happily boast. "Riiiight." Danny clicked his tongue, "Add in that these guys are not allowed to be in a 50 miles radius from Amity and I'll do it." "No-" "Deal."

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

Danny looped on back to the entryway as he finished swooping through every room of the manor. "Alright! Come on out Fruitloop! I know you're still here-" Just as Phantom floated down to land, he felt a hard punch in his face that sent him skidding across the room into the wall. "OOF" "Guess I should have seen that com...ming..." Danny rubbed his jaw, turning back to see who punched him. His eyes widening as he recognized the heroes he was facing. "Phantom. We're taking you into custody." "YOU CALLED THE JUSTICE LEAGUE ON ME?!" -----(Fight happens)--- Flash manages to hold Phantom, using his speeding molecules to keep Phantom from phasing through his grip. Danny gritting his teeth as the other heroes ready to capture him. Fine. If he can't phase through, he'll just phase in. Phantom uses his icy breath to freeze everything around them. Superman quickly uses his laser vision to melt the ice covering the room in mist, trying to keep themselves from being frozen. "Flash!" When the mist cleared the was no sign of him. Superman using his hearing to try and locate him- despite guarding his right side, he was kicked into the wall by Flash. Flash's eyes glowing bright green. "Well this is weird." -Proceeds to fight in Flash's body for a moment, until he gets knocked out of it. Danny's on his last legs, thinking he barely done a number on them (Not realizing he had been giving them quite a fight). Danny tries to reason again only to hear Amity Park doing great since GIW involvement. Still he isn't backing down. Even mentions Lex is backing them. He knows its only temporary peace if its really peace at all. Which he suspects is a big farce. Besides the portal still resides in Amity. GIW can't get a hold of that- portal. If he can't make them hear him out, then he'll show them why Vlad isn't just some victim. (Not realizing what Justice League may have already discovered) "Want to know why the number 2 worse billionaire is after Fruitloop?" standing up as the net placed on him burned and electrified him. It hurt so much, but he wasn't ready to quit now. Superman flew out in front of the others to block Phantom as Phantom tackled him. Phantom just uses rest of his strength to crash Superman through layers of floors til they reached the secret lab. Superman flinging Phantom into the other side of the room just as they landed, making him slam into a green tube, shattering it. The netting having dropped to the ground away from him. He coughed, shaking as a white ring dangerously popped around his waist shakily dancing, until Phantom sucked it back in. Not yet. The green ectoplasm from the tube soaking into his skin. His eyes widening as he saw what the green ectoplasm was from, jumping back with a disgust yell. He watched the clone fizzle out. "ALREADY? Really Vlad?" He shook off the creeps. "What is this?" "A Lab, du-UAHHHHHHH-" He found himself being spun around by Flash, and flung into the air where he was lassoed. Wonder Woman yanked on the rope tight, swinging him down into the opposite wall. He really was tired of being walled by them. Batman was quick to cuff him as Superman froze him in place. Danny raised a tired brow, unamused. "Are we chill now?" "No." "Thought so." ---bit more talking. Danny navigating his way through the truth of the lasso before using his wail as his last ditch effort to escape. Manages to escape through the portal as the lab collapses.

#danny fenton #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #justice league #crossover #fanfic #prompt #enemy of my enemy is the worse #lex luthor #danny phantom #dp crossover #writing excerpts

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feasibilities · 1 month

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Sight and Smell - Tom x Married!Reader (NSFW)

Synopsis: Tom has feelings for you and won't let anyone stop him from telling you how he feels. Warnings: Drug Use, Infidelity, Allusions to Cuckolding, Sex as Punishment, Choking, Pining, etc. Author's Note: Readers need love too! I did some research on luxury hotels in Dublin as well (because I want a late-night rendezvous with Cillian in one of them). Also, thank you @mothhball for tagging me in the prompt that spawned this insane story. I hope you enjoy it!

The sight of your beautiful smile and the smell of your redolent perfume were mainstays of Tom’s psyche. He knew your husband, Seán, since they were kids. You came along during secondary school. He knew it was wrong to lust for any woman who wasn’t Marianne, but you were different. For the first time, he felt a deep-seated jealousy toward his friend. Knocking on the front door, Tom was finally prepared to tell you how he really felt. This party would go down in history.

“Hey, Tom. Seán will be here soon. Won’t you come in?” You smiled sweetly. You noticed that he looked disheveled and restless.

“Of course.” Tom replied. While you led him to the kitchen, he admired how your black dress hugged your figure. He hated that Seán got to see the treasures that lie underneath.

“Where’s Marianne?” You inquired, going back to cleaning the champagne flutes.

“U-um, she wasn’t feeling well so she stayed back.” Tom faltered, taking quick peeks at your cleavage.

“Ah. Well, I hope she feels better soon. How have you been?” You asked.

“Fine.” Tom answered plainly

Walking toward him, you placed the back of your hand on his forehead.

“Are you feeling okay, hun?” You asked innocently.

Taking your hand away, Tom hurried to the bathroom and slammed the door shut. You heard him lock it shut shortly after. You stood there stunned before continuing to prepare for the party.

After separating the thin white powder into lines, he gummed what was left over on his fingers. Snorting each line was like a hard reset for his body. His heart felt like it was clawing its way out of his chest. Collapsing near the bathroom sink, he trembled and cursed himself. He sat himself up in a corner and breathed deeply. The palpitations of his heart subsided.

Hearing offbeat jazz come from the living area, Tom jumped up and gathered himself. He had to get this out of his system before guests arrived. It was now or never.

“I need to talk to you.” Tom blurted out, watching you arrange hors d'oeuvres on multiple platters.

“Fucking hell, Tom. You scared me half to death.” You jumped.

“Listen, it’s very important-“ Tom started.

“Can it wait until after the party, hun?” You corrected.

“It can’t.” Tom said, growing irritated by the second.

“Fine. What is it?” You said, exasperated.

“I have loved you since I met you all those years ago. I think about you all the time. I hate that Seán got to you first.” Tom confessed, staring into your eyes.

You stayed silent and stared back at him. You felt a mix of panic and curiosity. Seán would kill Tom with his bare hands if he heard this conversation. Tom’s advances made sense—especially since you felt the same way. You loved your husband with all of your heart, but you can’t say you never thought about leaving. He was away for work way too much. When he was here, he wasn’t present emotionally. Intimacy was poorer than it had ever been. You yearned for something different—rather, something electrifying. Tom was the closest you could get.

“We can’t do it here, Tom. I can meet you in a hotel after the party. Now, take these platters into the dining room. Be careful to not let anything fall.” You ordered.

Tom’s eyes widened at your proposal. You’ve never seen him move so fast in the time that you knew him. Guests, including Seán, began to arrive. He kissed you deeply and gave you an embarrassingly hard smack on your ass. It felt like he was putting on the show of a happy couple in front of everyone. Tom was left to brood angrily as you gave him sympathetic glances throughout the party. Shortly after everyone’s departure, you got a text from Tom about your impending rendezvous.

Room 427 at The Westbury. Hope you’re still up for the challenge.

“Challenge?” You murmured as you applied your makeup at your vanity.

“Where are you headed, love?” Seàn slurred, toying with your hair. He was too drunk to notice you flipping your phone over.

“Out with friends. I’ll be back late.” You replied.

“You know, I want to spend more time with you. I miss you.” He said, kissing your shoulder and starting to untie your house robe. This was another empty promise. You politely moved his hands and went back to finishing your makeup.

“We can spend time together when I get back, Seán. I need some time to myself, ’s all.” You said. Finally getting the message, he stumbled to the bed and fell asleep.

—

“Fuck, right there…” You moaned as Tom thrusted into you at steady pace. You raked your nails down his back—marking your territory for the time being. He stared down at you with the same admiration earlier. He loved the way your breasts moved with each thrust. He loved the resplendent noises you made when he bottomed out. You clenched around him as your legs began to shake. Your eyes fluttered shut before you felt his hand grab your throat. He squeezed enough to limit your blood flow. You were lightheaded, but still conscious.

“Open your fucking eyes. This is what you wanted, right?” Tom hissed, speeding up his movements. This time was much more brutal.

“Yes.” You whimpered, feeling like you were about to break in half.

Tom kissed you harshly and watched as you fell apart. Unintelligible praises came from you as he pounded you into the plush mattress. Your walls spasmed frenetically as you came. He wanted to make sure that you thought of him every time you fucked Seán. To his own perverse wish, this was payback for not choosing the better man. Flipping you on your stomach, Tom yanked your hips backward and started taking you from behind. He put a pillow underneath you to soften the blows, but to no avail. He was reaching depths that your husband dreamed of. You weeped quietly and

“Would be fucking sick if Seán came in and saw me nailing his wife, eh?” Tom teased, panting in your ear. A cruel part of you got off on the thought of him listening in on you two. Maybe he would give you the attention you deserve. A faint “Mhmm” emitted from you in response.

“Cum inside me.” You cooed, looking back at him with heavy eyes. You bit your lip and clenched around him once more. His thrusts staggered as he came with a loud groan. You sung his praises as he came down from his high. Pulling out, he saw his seed beginning to spill out of you. He caught some with his fingers and pushed it back inside. He pumped himself mindlessly before laying next to you. His stark blue eyes studied your features. He traced his fingertips along your back. You looked back at him lovingly before drifting off to sleep.

Grabbing your lace underwear from the floor, Tom huffed them desperately. Similar to cocaine, he felt a sense of euphoria. He took in the sweet, earthy scent as he grew hard again. He didn't want to disturb you, so he walked to the bathroom and turned on the shower. He finally got what he wanted.

#tom #the party #cillian murphy #tom x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy fanfiction #fanfiction #love #marriage #my writing #2017

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coquettetoji · 6 months

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{💌} ARMIN ARLERT MOODBOARD

★ general armin hcs ★

— sweetest soul who is 100% down to earth, will scold you for not recycling your fork into the correct trash can and will pick up plastic / any trash on the ground

— nerdy golden retriever boy, and is the biggest people pleaser

— played hockey growing up and in college, he’s a right winger

— reads a shit ton of books, will press pretty and colorful flowers he finds outside into the book spine to save it

— is academically and naturally smart, gpa is a strong 4.2, majors in business, economics, or biology, some smart shit like that ( will grow up to be that hot rich dad every single mom wants )

— SLEEPER BUILD 🗣️🗣️AND A V LINE🗣️🗣️

— hands are big but they’re like bony and soft, he also plays piano so he’s good with his hands *moan*

— his most used app is spotify, google classroom, and messages

— lana del rey coded. i will argue with anyone who thinks otherwise.

— listens to cigarettes after sex, clairo, and this one random 63 hour playlist called ‘band cafe soft jazz music’

— speaking of cigarettes, armin also smokes cigarettes (ik i’m sorry) but this guy is a student athlete, ofc he’s gonna have to de-stress somehow

— drives the newest model of a white range rover with beige interior

— 6’1 teddy bear with attachment issues

— speaks french fluently

— so so so soft spoken like you will never see him yelling at another person, even when he’s frustrated

— also doesn’t like cursing, will give someone a quick glance if they cuss but won’t mind it

— has a gold chain around his neck, yes the slutty kind

— came from old money 🤭🤑, he dresses like it too i’m talking quarter zips, sweaters, khakis, and neutral colors, wears his gold thin wire framed glasses occasionally

— knows all girl shit bc of his little sister (who he adores) he learned how to take care of her so he’s really reliable when it comes to treating girls right

— his phone case is the apple silicone one that’s cream color, keeps one of his credit cards in the case behind his phone

— phone screen is him and his puppy ( spot the difference game for everyone 👍 )

— every woman he knows or did a favor for all say “his mother raised him right”

— the most organized person ever, his whole pantry would labeled and organized like khloe kardashian’s

— eren and armin are 100% that black cat golden retriever duo, take a wild guess on who is which lol

— 2 deep dimples on his cheeks that pop out when he smiles, also has light freckles dusted on his nose n around it, has the straightest whitest teeth + an adorable smile **he’s so grateful for braces existing

— overall the most genuine human out there, no detection of fuck boy here 😁😁😁

{💌} new message from mica

armin is actually my baby i love him so much i need me a soft spoken tall nerdy blonde white boy in my life now

#armin x reader #armin arlert #armin aot #armin x y/n #armin fluff #attack on titan #aot fluff #aot headcanons #aot moodboard #armin headcanons #aot smau #aot #aot x reader #aot fanfiction #armin x you #attack on titan x reader

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tasteleeknow · 1 year

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CALL OF THE SIREN

PAIRING: siren!minho x fem!reader GENRE: smut. fluff. fairytale!au CONTENT: 18+ minors dni. WORD COUNT: 5.7k

SUMMARY: the effect he has on people is obvious, they’re drawn to him like he’s an oasis in a desert. then, with a small jingle of a bell that announces his arrival into your store, he attempts to ensnare you.

NOTE: my step back into writing after a little break. please let me know what you think! this is my interpretation of a siren. i know some people write them as mermaid type creatures. i wanted to write more the bird type, pretty bird singing in a cage and never touched and all of that jazz. whatever, hope you enjoy!

do not repost to other sites, including translations.

“Would you just come for an hour or so? Please?” you friend asks, tugging on your arm and giving you her best puppy dog eyes.

“You just go,” you whine. “I’ve just had a new shipment in, I really should—”

“It’s Sunday,” he interrupts. “Your books can wait,” she tugs you a little harder. “30 minutes.”

“45.”

Elsie was perhaps the only person you could call a real friend. She loved you, she’d proven that over and over throughout the years. Still, she was a very different person than you were. She sought out new faces and new company seemingly every hour of the day she had free.

“Why are you so obsessed with dragging me around like a sidekick?”

“Why are you so obsessed with this bookstore?” she retorts.

“Why are you so obsessed with that man?”

“What man?” she says, faking ignorance.

“Oh, come on.”

“Listen, you just have to meet him once, alright? It’s not—”

“It is that weird,” you correct before she can finish. “You and everyone else have lost your minds. I really don’t see how it’s possible for any man to—”

“You’ll see.”

You sigh. “Let me lock up.”

—

It’s as busy as the last time you’d been dragged to the monthly market. It always felt like the entire region descended onto the field far too small to accommodate them all. You weren’t used to crowds like this. Your days were happily spent in your village bookstore, room enough for your books and a small apartment out back.

“There!” Elsie exclaims.

A crowd surrounds a small stage, obscuring your view of whatever has captured their attention. Your friend grips your hand and tugs you so suddenly you barely manage to stay upright, ducking your head as she barrels through the sea of bodies. The bustling sound of the market fades as she pulls you to a stop. Her eyes are fixed on the small makeshift stage, constructed from various wooden crates stacked beside each other. He’s singing: the man on the stage. He stands there in front of you, white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows with his hair falling into his eyes. He’s pretty, you’ll give him that. But when you turn to speak to your friend, the look on her face makes the words stick in your throat. She looks transfixed. She looks like he’s offering her the world on a silver platter, holding it out to her with his bare hands.

A strange feeling bubbles up in your chest, like you should wrap your arms around her as if she might at any moment lunge onto the stage.

Then the singing stops.

“That’s him,” she breathes dreamily, still failing to pull her eyes from the man on stage.

“Thank you for coming,” the man on stage announces just before leaping off the stage and walking directly towards you. The crowd begins shuffling around, making their way to the small booth where they can offer their cash as a thank you for a clearly enrapturing performance.

“You looked away,” he says when he reaches you, like that means anything at all.

Your friend grabs your hand, as if she's afraid you might turn and run. “This is Minho,” she says. “He performs here every month. We uh—We had a drink last month and I said I’d bring my best friend next time.”

You tug your hand from your friend’s, a little amused by her clear infatuation. Then you hold it towards him, inviting the stranger to shake it. He doesn’t. Instead he looks down at it like you’ve just held up something rotten in his face.

“Minho doesn’t like touching people,” your friend explains, grabbing your hand again and saving you the embarrassment of letting it fall to your side.

“Right. Well, I uh— I enjoyed what little of your performance I heard. Your voice is nice.”

“Nice?” he says, cocking his head a little.

Nice wasn’t enough of a compliment for him? The man refuses to shake hands and has a big ego. Your brows draw together, growing confused at your usually very intuitive friend’s infatuation.

Elsie laughs, swinging your hands back and forth between you. “It’s heavenly, more like. Nice is a ridiculous way to describe it. Doesn’t it just… feel like it’s seeping into your chest? Like you could drown in it?”

The man—Minho—looks at you with anticipation, curiosity: like your answer is important.

“I—I mean, sure. I suppose.”

“Should we all get a drink? There’s a shake stall, just near the lake,” your friend says, pulling Minho’s eyes from yours as she leads you away.

—

The remainder of the day is uneventful. You stay an hour and your friend chats away with the strange man like a lovesick puppy while you make yourself sick on a far too large vanilla milkshake. Love gives people rose tinted glasses, you conclude that night as you fall into bed. He was pretty and he had a nice voice, but clearly your friend's view of him was magnified by her heart. Infatuation does that to people.

—

The gentle jingle of the bell above the door is one of those sounds you’d grown so accustomed to, you now barely heard it. It was background noise, like the sea birds or the crashing of the waves against the cliffs. You were so close to the cliffside here, it was the biggest selling point of the place. If you cracked your window open at night you could fall asleep to that sound. It was a stark difference to the car horns and sirens you’d grown up with.

“Excuse me?” a voice says, startling you from your reverie.

“Minho.”

“You remembered.”

“I’m good with names.”

He looks around the store, taking in the high shelves and the ladders installed to reach. “Yes, you’d have to be. Elsie told me you were… attached to this place.”

“I love it.”

He tilts his head a little, that look crossing his face again. You feel like you’re under a microscope.

You clear your throat, stepping down from the small step you carry around the store to reach difficult places. “Do you need help finding anything?”

He shoves his hands in his pockets, gazing around the store lazily. “I don’t do a lot of reading to be honest. I could use a few recommendations.”

You brush your hands down your front. “Alright. What genres do you like?”

He shrugs, offering you a lopsided grin.

“You have to help me a little.”

“Give me three of your favourites.”

“We might not have the same taste.”

He shrugs again.

Okay, fine. He’d be buying either way.

He follows you around the store, a quiet shadow as you collect the first three books to come to mind. He’s quiet as he pays, placing his card down on the counter between you. Doesn’t like to be touched, you’re reminded. You slide the brown paper bag across the counter for him as you tuck his receipt inside.

“Here you go.”

“Do you think I’m pretty?” he says casually as he scoops it off the counter.

You’re quiet for a moment, processing the question. “I’m sorry?”

“I know it’s an odd question.”

“Odd doesn’t—”

“Humour me.”

Elsie has a lot of explaining to do. “Sure. You’re pretty and your voice is heavenly. It seeps into my soul.”

He grins. “You’re lying.”

“Look, I think you’re strange. You… make me feel uneasy and—”

“Uneasy?”

“Not in a bad way. I don’t feel.. unsafe. I just… feel like I’m missing something. It’s uncomfortable.”

“Not knowing something makes you uncomfortable,” he says, still grinning. It isn’t a question.

“Why are you here? You clearly didn’t come here to buy books.”

He juggles the brown bag into one hand so he can hold out his other towards you. “I came to shake your hand.”

“I thought you didn’t like to do that.”

“I don’t.”

“So why are you—”

“Humour me.”

You sigh, reaching out and grasping his hand in yours. He jolts as your palms connect, dropping the contents of the paper bag across the floor as he stumbles backwards. Okay, he really doesn’t like being touched. You round the counter to collect the books from the floor, cringing a little at the way one of the brand new paperbacks has landed.

It’s only when you’ve collected all three and righted yourself you realise Minho is standing deathly still, silent.

You raise your eyes to him. He looks shaken. You can’t help feeling sorry for him. “I don’t know what—I don’t know why you don’t like being touched, but it’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay to protect yourself.”

You place the bag at his feet and take a step away from him. “Did you—Did you feel anything?”

You frown.

“When we touched,” he clarifies.

“Like what?”

“Nothing. I uh—” he bends to collect the bag. “Thanks for the books.”

And with that, he’s gone. The small bell announces his exit.

—

It’s days like these, with the sun high in the sky and the gentle spring breeze, that you’re so grateful for life you can hardly contain it. You close the shop and take the small walk to the cliffside bench with a book tucked under one arm and a thermos in your chilled hands. She’s waiting for you there. She knows weather like this draws you out.

“The princess emerges from her tower, at last!” Elsie practically shouts as you lower yourself onto the bench beside her.

“No shouting on days like this.”

“Is that coffee?” she asks, gesturing to your thermos.

“Tea,” you correct, passing it to her before she can ask.

“Mm, prefer coffee,” she says just before taking a healthy sip.

“You should’ve brought some then.”

You’re both quiet for a while after that, opening your book to read silently as Elsie gazes out over the ocean, thermos grasped between her hands.

“Do you know something?” she says eventually. “I think you were right about this place.”

You place your book by your side as she passes you the half empty thermos. “Was I?”

“I know I tease you for it. But I get it. Why you spend all your time here, I mean. It’s nice.”

“Nice?” you laugh. “What an understatement.”

She turns towards you. “Oh, I'm the one understating the beauty of things now?”

“Don’t start.”

“I know he came to the store.”

“People do that when they want to buy books.”

“That man doesn’t need to go to a store to buy books.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” you question.

“Come out with me tonight and I’ll show you.”

“Where?”

She grins.

—

“What the hell is this?”

“Minho’s home,” your friend answers.

“Elsie, this is a fucking palace. What the hell is he doing busking at the local market?”

She shrugs. “I asked him the same thing. Come on,” she says, attempting to lead you towards the imposing doors.

“I wasn’t invited,” you point out.

“I have a plus one.”

The sound of chatter and laughter floods through the door as it opens. Half the town are his dinner guests by the sound of it. Elsie pulls you through the stately rooms, each with high ceilings and decadent carpets.

When she passes you a drink, you still haven’t spotted him. You recognise faces from your store, people who have dropped by once or twice on a lazy afternoon and others who are regulars. Members of the local book club practically keep you afloat.

“Is this a celebration?”

“No, he just holds these regularly apparently. Has a private concert before dinner.” She tips back her head and finishes her champagne in one go. “That’s where they’re going now. Come on, let’s get good seats.”

It’s the kind of place you’d read about in fantasy novels, with high ceilings and chandeliers and carpets that could be worth more than your shop. It’s utterly ridiculous. A tiny sliver of embarrassment sneaks its way inside you at the idea of someone that had all this stepping into your store. You stamp it under your boot before it can settle. Your store is everything. You’d never been prouder of anything in your life.

When the man of the hour emerges, the room quiets. People shift in their seats, leaning ever so slightly towards the stage where he stands. This stage is nothing like the one at the markets. It’s a permanent, elaborate construction, raising him high enough that even those peaking their heads into the packed room from the very back can get a clear view.

Then he starts singing.

It’s just like the last time you heard him. It’s pleasant, beautiful even. But as you take in the faces of those around you, you get that frustrating feeling again: you’re missing something. He stands centre stage, lulling the entire room into a dazed wonder. You get the urge to climb on stage and shake him. Tell me what this is! But you don’t. You wait for him to finish, wait for him to release his captives.

Thirty minutes later Elsie takes your arm as you filter out of the room and towards the dining room, only stopping when Minho steps in front of you—blocking your exit.

“Did you enjoy the performance?” he asks, a polite smile pulling the corners of his lips up.

It sets your friend off on a speech that makes you want to pull her aside and give her a gentle slap across the face. Snap her out of whatever has taken root inside her brain.

“And you?” Minho finally asks.

“It was fine,” you answer. He didn’t need his ego fed.

He laughs. Laughs. Like the idea that you weren’t totally enraptured by him like a sort of admiring zombie was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. Your eyes drop to his neck as you wonder how your hands would look wrapped around his throat.

“Elsie, they’ll be starting service now. May I have a word with my guest? Just for a moment.”

Your friend looks between you both, like she’s missing something obvious. You understand the feeling. Then she leaves with a gentle squeeze of your arm.

“You’re rich,” you announce after a moment of silence.

“Very observant.”

“How?”

“And blunt.”

“I don’t like not knowing things.”

“Yes, yes I know,” he smiles. Then he collapses into one of the empty chairs and looks around the room like he’s never seen it before, like it doesn’t belong to him. “People are… generous, with their donations. They like my voice.”

You scoff, collapsing into a chair across the aisle from him. “You expect me to believe all of this is just from… busking?”

“They really like my voice.”

“Yes, I know. Will you tell me why?”

“Must there be a reason?”

He takes a deep breath when you give him a pointed look before pulling himself to his feet and crossing the aisle towards you. You get the urge to run, but you don’t. You hold your breath instead as he kneels at your feet. He holds his palm up towards you, like he’s expecting a high five.

“I’ll tell you,” he says. “If you hold my hand while I do.”

“You won’t fall over this time?”

“I'm much closer to the ground if I do.”

It’s a strange request, but everything about him was strange. You hate not knowing things. So you press your palm to his, watching his face for any discomfort. His eyes fix on where your hands connect as he folds his fingers to intertwine with yours. It’s far too intimate for someone you’d only met twice before, but you need answers.

“This will be… odd,” he says. “You’ll have to be open minded.”

You huff out a small laugh. “Yes, well I wouldn’t expect anything else from you.”

He smiles. It’s a sad smile.

“I’m cursed,” he says eventually. It’s blunt and plain, no room for doubting the seriousness of it. “I exist to tempt others, to lure them without ever being able to touch them.” He takes a deep breath, readjusting the way your hands are intertwined so he can rest them in your lap. “It’s a safety measure, I assume. No one can resist me so to counteract any complications that might create… touch is repulsive. To both parties. I sing and I tempt them with beauty… and they want me. They want me so badly they throw their money at me in the hope it’ll make me see them.”

“Cursed.”

You look down at your intertwined hands, the warmth of his skin seeping into yours. Okay so he’s either teasing you or he’s completely insane.

“I can prove it to you,” he says, seemingly interpreting the look on your face successfully. “If I must. It won’t be pleasant.”

“We’re holding hands,” you point out. You weren’t in pain.

“Yes,” he says with a small smile. “We are.”

“Well, doesn’t that disprove your… story.”

He squeezes your hand a little. “You aren’t lured in the same way. My voice is ‘fine’, as you put it. I’m pretty enough, but I’m not—”

“What’s your point?”

“Curses can be broken,” he says. “Surrounded by all those books and you’ve never read a fairytale?”

You want to shove him onto his ass and wipe the teasing smirk off his face.

“You’re a curse-breaker. Come to set me free.”

You yank your hand from his.

“Is this fun for you? Do you want me to fall for this story you're spinning and make myself a fool just for you to waltz into the dining room and laugh about it with your friends?”

He frowns. “No.”

“Why do you sing?” you ask. “If this is a ‘curse’ that you hate so much. Why set up these events to sing for them all?”

“I need it,” he says, brows still drawn together. “Or I'll die. I… feed from their adoration, or the curse does. It’s wrapped around me, yanking at my soul. I feed it or I die.”

The look on his face, the tormented glaze to his eyes. It’s too convincing. He’s either as good of an actor as he is a singer or he’s…

“How would you prove it?”

He pulls himself to his feet. “I would let someone touch me. Your friend, perhaps.”

“And what would happen?”

“She would… be upset. She’d be in pain.”

“It hurts?”

“It’s excruciating.”

“You can’t do it to me instead?”

He shakes his head. “You’re the exception, angel. I can’t hurt you even if I wanted to.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“That’s what you feel like to me.”

“Well, don’t.”

“Alright.”

He’s quiet as you leave the room, as you leave his house. You pull your phone out to let Elise know you’ve left early. She’ll understand. You don’t like crowds.

—

It’s weeks before the small bell above your shop door signals his arrival. You’d almost managed to put him from your mind and then there he is, standing in your space with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“What do you want?”

He steps towards you. He looks nervous.

“I’d like to be free, angel.”

“I said not to call me that.”

“Right, sorry.”

You sigh, stepping down from the ladder to face him. “Okay, tell me what to do.” Humour him.

One corner of his mouth lifts up. “What?”

“How do I free you? Break the curse,” you say, gesturing at nothing in particular.

He looks around you, at the shelves crammed to bursting with books. “No fairy tales at all?” he questions. When you say nothing he redirects his attention to you again, suddenly looking a little more solemn. “I’m afraid you’ll have to fall in love with me, angel.”

You laugh. You can’t help it. “Oh alright, then,” you manage eventually. “Is that all?”

He isn’t laughing with you, you realise. It sobers you.

“I would really, really like to be free.”

“The fairytales you keep alluding to. Don’t they usually fall in love before the big curse is revealed? A little less pressure that way don’t you think?”

He pulls one hand from his pocket and rubs the back of his head. “It would feel… wrong. To spend time with you while keeping that from you. Wouldn’t you feel… used? If you did end up… feeling something for me and then discovering I had something more to gain from you.”

You frown. “Yeah, I guess I would. But if you want to be free that badly, why does it matter? You don’t know me.”

“Like I said, I can’t hurt you. It’s… maybe it’s part of it. I don’t know. I feel…” he trails off, eyes dropping to the ground. “It’s strange,” he continues after a moment. “I’ve known about you, that someone like you existed out there somewhere. Someone who could fix me. I just—How long have you been here? How long have you had this place?”

“5 years.”

“5—” he pauses, sucking in a deep breath. “Right.”

“How long have you been… like this?”

“6 years,” he says, shoving his hand back in his pocket. “You’ve been here this whole time. This curse is cruel, I shouldn’t be surprised. I just—”

“Swear to me,” you interrupt, taking a small step towards him. “Swear to me this isn’t some elaborate joke. I don’t want to see anyone in pain. I don’t want you to have to prove this to me. I just… I need you to look me in the eyes and swear to me.”

He takes a hesitant step towards you as he lifts his hands from his pockets. “Is there someone you… someone you don’t like very much?” he asks, a tiny smile forming on his lips. “Someone you wouldn’t mind seeing getting a very short jolt of pain?”

“You said it’s excruciating. Is it that way for you too?”

He nods.

“No, there’s no one I’d want to feel pain.”

He sighs. “I want to prove it to you. I want you to be sure of me.”

“You’ll have to prove yourself worth trusting. If I'm going to love you, I’ll have to trust you, won’t I?”

He reaches slowly for your hand. You let him take it, lifting it up so he can inspect it. He traces his finger over your palm, tracing the lines that cross your skin. “I’ll do my best,” he whispers.

—

It doesn’t take you long to recognise his patterns of behaviour. He visits the shop regularly, finding some way to touch you in these small ways before he leaves. You can’t help but stay quiet as he does, afraid to interrupt him. You can see it, the way he gets comfort from your touch. You suppose if you’d been unable to touch another person at all for six years you’d be a little desperate for human touch as well. Your hands are the focus of his attention. You’re sure he must know them as well as he knows his own. He traces the lines on your palms, plays with the rings on your fingers, wraps his fingers around your wrists.

He’s replaced the local bookclub as your biggest customer. It’s not possible for him to be reading all the books he buys. Still, he comes in once a week to ask for more recommendations. You slip in the occasional test. A vampire romance or fifty shades of grey. He never comments on it. Not until today.

“Are you trying to hint at something?” he says from the lounge chair tucked into a corner of the store. He’d taken to spending time reading as you worked. It was the only evidence you had that he read at all.

“Hint at what?” you ask from behind the counter.

“Your kinks.”

You choke on your tea, slapping your palm against your chest to prevent the liquid from entering your lungs.

“I’m sorry?” you choke out.

“I’ve noticed your recommendations are getting a little… adult. Do you have a thing for BDSM?”

You duck around the corner to check for any quiet customers lingering between the shelves. “Would you be quiet?” you scold as you march towards him. One of your regulars is perusing at the back of the store.

“Come on, angel. Don’t be shy.”

“Are you telling me you’ve been reading them?”

“I liked the one with the priest. Forbidden fucking is exciting, isn’t it? Doing it where you shouldn’t—”

You slap your palm over his mouth. You can feel his grin form. “If you don’t shut up, I’m banning you from the store.”

His eyes sparkle with mischief but he nods. You release him before wiping your palm on your jeans.

—

It’s only a few months after that when you notice it. He’s your employee. You didn’t hire him and you don’t pay him but as you hand him the box opener so he can start taking stock of the next box you find yourself frozen with the realisation.

He frowns, pulling himself to his feet. “What’s wrong?”

“What are you doing?”

He closes the box opener. “Well I was about to use this sharp thing to slice the tape from this box so I can take the books out.”

“Shut up.”

One corner of his mouth lifts up.

“You’re working here,” you point out.

“Am I?”

You nod. Silent.

“Would you like me to leave?”

You frown. “No.”

He smiles, sliding the knife open. “Then I’ll continue with the box, shall I?”

—

You stir awake at the gentle nudge against your shoulder. “Angel,” he whispers. “It’s late.”

“How late?” you mumble, rubbing at your eyes as you uncurl your body from the unnatural position you’d fallen asleep in on the lounge chair.

“I closed an hour ago,” Minho says. He crouches at your feet, hair standing on all ends from where he’s dragged his fingers through it. You reach out to smooth it down.

“Thanks,” you say through a yawn.

“Why are you so tired?” he asks, reaching out to take your hand so he can trace patterns across it.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Any reason?”

You trace over his face with your eyes, taking in his long lashes, the slope of his nose, the curve of his upper lip. “Would you… be spending time with me if I wasn’t…” you trail off, suddenly embarrassed.

“Do you trust me?” he whispers.

Your eyes flick across his, the soft light from the lamp doing just enough to make the deep brown clear. He needed something from you. You’d barely known him a year and he was the strangest person you’d ever met. It was probably foolish to trust him, dangerous at the very least.

“I do,” you answer. “I… trust you.”

He rocks forward, bringing his head down to your lap so he can press his lips to your hand. He peppers little kisses across your skin and you tangle your free hand into the hair at the back of his head. It falls down the back of his neck now, longer than it’s ever been before.

“Keep me,” he mutters, just clear enough for you to make out. “Will you keep me, angel? Please. I can’t hurt you. I swear.”

“Okay.”

—

“What?”

You blink, finding Minho’s sparkly eyes fixed on you. He’s smiling, like you’ve missed something funny.

“You were staring,” he says.

You drop your gaze to the floor, feeling your cheeks warm.

His soft footfalls as he approaches are the only sounds in the store. It was a quiet day, heavy rain preventing many customers from venturing out. He arrives at the bottom of the ladder, holding it steady as you descend. When you turn he doesn’t remove his hands, caging you in.

“Am I pretty?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

“Yeah?” he repeats with a small smile. “Have I grown on you?”

You fiddle with the tie on his hoodie as his fingers stroke through your hair. Grown on you felt like the wrong way to describe it. Inside you. He’d tangled himself with you and now you weren’t sure you could ever let him go. You’d spent a few sleepless nights imagining spending your days in the store without him. A small part of you was afraid. Afraid that if—when—you told him you loved him, he’d leave. Curse broken, needs fulfilled.

“A little,” you mutter, eyes fixed on his chest.

“Only a little?”

You look up into his eyes, then to his lips. “Would you leave if it was more than a little?”

“Hm?” he questions as he tugs a little on one of your earlobes.

“That’s what you’re here for isn’t it? You need me to—” you suck in a breath. “You need me to love you. Will you leave after that?”

He frowns, hand dropping to cup the side of your neck. It’s a comforting hold, his thumb stroking gently behind your ear. “Why would I leave?”

“I’m your curse-breaker, right? That’s my purpose? That’s what you need from me.”

“I don’t need anything from you, angel,” he says. It’s a little unfocused, like his mind is somewhere else. His thumb keeps stroking.“It’s been two months since I needed to sing. It let me go.”

You drop the hoodie ties and grip the fabric instead. “What?”

He offers you a small smile. “You freed me,” he whispers.

The curse is broken… and he’d stayed. “You’re still here.”

“Mm, do you want me to leave?”

“No,” you answer quickly before pulling him towards you, tasting him for the first time. He stumbles a little, humming into your mouth as he steadies himself. It’s a frenzied stumble around the store. You are hardly aware you’re moving at all before you find yourself pushed up against a wall of books.

“The store is open,” he mumbles into your neck.

“Don’t care,” you mutter before you grip his hair and pull his mouth back to yours.

He laughs, taking a large step backwards and detaching you with ease. “Yes, you do. I’ll be right back.”

You attempt to catch your breath as he locks up, dropping your head back against the books and closing your eyes. You loved him. You loved him and he knew and he didn’t leave you.

His finger traces your lips when he returns. “You’re smiling,” he whispers.

Your eyes flutter open. “You didn’t leave me.”

He frowns. “I was just locking up.”

You huff out a short laugh. “No, I mean… two months ago.”

“Ah,” he says before pressing his lips together and adopting an exaggerated thoughtful expression. “Why didn’t I leave?”

You press your finger to his cheek. “Do you think I’m pretty?” you ask.

His eyes flick to yours, the teasing expression dropping off his face. “Angel,” he whispers. “You’re wrapped around my soul.”

You’re both quiet after that, little noises of pleasure the only sounds between you as he pushes you against the shelves. You snake your hands under his hoodie, pressing your hands to his skin. He’s so warm. He’d taken your hands shortly after you’d entered the store, cold and wet from the downpower. You’d frozen still as he lifted them to his mouth and breathed over them, warming them gently.

“Love touching you,” he mumbles against your lips. “So soft. You were worth it.” His lips move to the corner of your mouth. “I couldn’t touch anyone… for years and you were there at the end… a soft angel come to save me, hm? Let me feel you…”

He continues muttering the same way as he presses kisses across your skin. You snake your hands up his back, lifting his hoodie as you go. He barely detaches his lips from you for a second as he pulls it over his head and tosses it aside.

The rain seems to get heavier as you’re consumed by him, offering you a curtain of privacy from the world. It feels completely safe, here with him, in your favourite place on earth. It's yours, this place, him. You bite into his neck, just enough to leave tiny marks in his skin. He grunts, threading his fingers into the hair at the back of your head. “The angel bites,” he laughs as he slips his other hand up your thighs and under your dress.

“Stay here with me,” you gasp into his mouth as his fingers brush your clothed centre.

“I’m staying,” he breathes.

“You can’t leave.”

He smirks as his fingers brush back and forth, barely touching. “Listen to me. I’m not leaving you, yeah? I’ll never walk out the door again if that’s what you want.”

“You have a—a palace,” you gasp as he hooks his fingers into your underwear.

His lips ghost over yours as his fingers explore you, slipping through your folds leisurely. “Would you rather live there?” he asks.

“Wouldn’t you?”

He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth before releasing you. “Wherever you are,” he whispers as he tugs your underwear down your legs.

“Here,” you breathe.

“Alright, we’ll live here.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, like you can hold the sentiment inside him and physically prevent him from changing his mind. We, he said. We’ll live here. Suddenly his hands are under your thighs and he’s practically scooping you up, slotting himself closer towards you and lifting you up against the shelves. His bare torso is warm against your thighs as you wrap yourself around him securely.

“That sounds nice,” you mumble into the crook of his neck.

“Just nice?” he says back, the mischief clear in his tone.

“It sounds so wonderful, I could die from joy.”

He chuckles against your temple. “Don’t do that. Don’t leave me.”

“One condition.”

“Hm?”

“Would you fuck me now?”

He makes that face again, like he’s deep in thought. His mouth forms a straight line. You kiss it off him, forcing him to part his lips. “Alright, angel,” he mumbles. “I’ll fuck you now.”

His movements are lazy and patient as he pulls himself free from his trousers. You practically latch yourself onto his neck, sucking at his skin desperately. Then he’s playing with you, wetting the tip of his cock along your folds like he has all the time in the world. You’re on the brink of tears when he finally shoves you against the shelves and lets you sink down onto him.

“‘m inside you,” he mumbles into your shoulder.

You hum, dropping your head back. “Yeah,” you breathe. “You are.”

please don’t forget to leave feedback, it took me lots of time and effort and hearing your thoughts is what makes me want to write more. thank you.

#lee know smut #lee know x reader #lee know fanfic #kpop smut #stray kids smut #kpop imagines #skz smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids imagine #kpop scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #minho smut #minho x reader #skz imagines #stray kids fanfic #skz scenarios

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gilbirda · 1 year

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DPxDC cheat sheet

So. I'm not a nitpicking person. I understand that mistakes can be made and typos are a thing and sometimes we are just not the kind of person that can make words work for a variety of reasons (dyslexia, for example).

This is not for that people.

This is for everyone who stumbled into this fandom by mistake and had learned things via osmosis and don't have the energy/time to check the source material for the "correct" thing.

Y'all are valid.

This is a cheat sheet of correct terms and fandom things that are not correct that I've seen in fics.

Disclaimer: while experimenting with canon is fun, this is just to lay down the rules of what's what so it can be the springboard of y'all's beautiful creations.

Given that some people just can't behave online: "If you don't have anything constructive to say, don't say anything." Did I say something wrong? You have resources better than this? You want to make a nitpick? Cool! More info to the mix — But come at me in a hurtful and insulting way and I'm blocking you on the spot.

[Will add more when I think more/have suggestions]

DP SIDE - Post "A Glitch in Time" Canon

Sam is Jewish

Sam is ultra-recyclo-vegetarian aka "doesn't eat anything with a face". Is not a real thing.

It's "Amity Park" not "Amity Ville".

Wes is fanon, same as Kyle. Info on Wes here

It's "Casper High", not "Caspar High".

Mr. Lancer doesn't have a canon name. Common fanon ones are William or Edward.

Ghost obsessions are canon. In AGIT, it's explained that ghosts have a purpose or drive. Danny's purpose is "protection" of both humans and ghosts.

Ghost cores are fanon-ish (there is a mention that Danny's ice powers come from his "core" temperature and is never addressed again, of course) (Episode is "Urban Jungle"). Then in the videogame there are different "types" of ghost powers and something about their cores? Very confusing.

Ghost speak is fanon. However, in AGIT, it's revealed that there's an ghost alphabet, and it's ancient form is based on sanskrit and tamil alphabets. Codex of Ghost alphabet.

Ghost Hunger is canon! In AGIT it's revealed that ghosts feed on emotions and thoughts to stay sapient. If they don't, they become feral with time. Halfas feed from their human side, remaining stable.

Danny is the bridge between the spirit world and living world - canon!

Danny beats the Ghost King Pariah Dark in combat, but faints and that fight is never addressed in the series again. Ghost King!Danny is fanon-ish so go ham with interpreting that. (Episode is "Reign Storm")

Tucker is the reincarnation?? (never stated in canon, but he does look alike) of a pharaoh named "Duul Aman" (Duulaman is also accepted as spelling). Said pharaoh never appears in the series as a ghost, just a picture. Who does appear is his (evil) right hand man, Hotep-Ra, who tries to manipulate Tucker (Episode is "King Tuck"). That Tucker gets cool magic from this event is fanon. But cool.

Sam gets possessed by Undergrowth via a vine straight into her spine (gross). Undergrowth calls her "his daughter" and she tries to lure Danny into "joining her to take over the world". (Episode is "Urban Jungle"). That Sam gets cool plant powers from this event is fanon. But cool.

The Fenton parents are never physically abusive - just comedically neglectful in the way parents are depicted in early 2000s cartoons. Incompetent, misguided, dumb... but they are shown to love their kids. The even accept Danny the 2 canon times they find out about him (Episodes "Reality Trip" and "Phantom Planet").

Jazz is never shown as "mature" in the sense that she had to parent Danny and be the responsible adult. She is comedically the "annoying and meddling older sister" from early 2000s cartoons. She wants to be considered an adult. She couldn't see Youngblood, who is a child ghost that cannot be seen by adults, and Danny had to push her into acting childish to make her see him.

Axiom labs is bought by Vlad's company "Vlad.co" not "DALV.co". DALV.co was the fake company that paid for Maddie and Danny to fly to a conference but stranded them in a forest where Vlad's cabin coincidentally was. (Episode "Maternal Instincts")

Dan is not older Danny. He is not even called "Dan" in canon, just "Dark Danny". He is Danny's ghost half, who killed his human half, ate/merged with Vlad's ghost side and then tried to kill Vlad's human side. Was losing his humanity what made him evil? Was it merging with the Bad Guy(tm) of the series? 🤷‍♀️ Take it as you will. (Episode is "The Ultimate Enemy")

Freakshow is NOT a clown. He is the ringmaster of a goth circus (called Circus Gothica). Danny's headcanoned fear of clowns can be traced back to the "circus" and clown-related imagery surrounding Freakshow's performances, but not directly BY Freakshow. (Episodes "Control Freaks" and "Reality Trip")

DC SIDE

Damian (not Damien or Demian) is never confirmed his religion. Fanon has accepted he is Muslim.

Bruce is from a Jewish family (Martha Wayne was Jewish), but he considers himself an atheist. Same with Kate Kane (Batwoman).

It's "Selina" Kyle, not "Selena" or "Salina".

It's "Talia" Al Ghul, not "Thalia".

It's "Jason", not "Jayson".

Damian is vegetarian, not vegan. It means he doesn't eat meat, but eats animal produces like eggs, milk, etc. He went vegetarian after rescuing Batcow from a slaughterhouse, he didn't arrive at the manor already being vegetarian.

Duke is NOT adopted. Bruce is fostering him temporarily and is more of a mentor to him than a father. Duke considers the others his siblings, though. EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT DUKE: Part 1 | Part 2

Dick was not adopted as a kid, Dick was Bruce's ward. That term is not used anymore, though. Adoption happened later in Dick's adulthood.

It's Gotham, not "Gothem".

Cassandra IS adopted. Legally.

Cassandra's nickname is "Cass", not "Cassie". Cassie is the nickname of another character also named Cassandra (Cassandra Sandsmark, Wondergirl)

"Little Wing" is a canon nickname for Jason from Dick.

"Baby bird" or "Baby bat" are fanon-ish(?). Little Wing, Dickie, Dickie-bird... Canon! Jaylad is not canon, but Jaybird is canon! A GREAT post with receipts about all nicknames. ("Replacement" isn't canon btw).

Stephanie Brown was the 4th Robin. She is not adopted, and was part of the batfamily because she was dating Tim. She is still considered batfamily even if they are not dating anymore.

In Hush, when Jason comes back to Gotham, Jason puts a knife on Tim's throat, but barely leaves a cut. Tim's throat wasn't injured during the Titans Tower attack.

Cass is selectively mute because she wasn't taught any language beyond what she needed to predict people's movements. She doesn't know sign language. She doesn't know how to read and write (more recent comics show her reading a bit). But she could learn, with difficulty. Very in depth analysis of Cass' disability.

Jason's "Pit Madness" is fanon. Canon offers Ra's saying "the Pit alters the mind - could happen for a few days or for years, you never know" or something like that, and that's it. There is reason to believe that the Lazarus Pit can cloud judgement for a while but there is no voice in the back of the head or the Pit taking over.

Tim never expressed special interest in photography or in it as a hobby. Nor he is a coffee addict more than the other bats, who pull all nighters on the reg. He is actually addicted to energy drinks.

There are 2 main Conner/Kon-El/Superboy I portrayed in fics: Young Justice cartoon one (grumpy, same age as Dick, kind of an asshole, has daddy issues, wears black shirt and jeans, has a space motorcycle and a pet wolf) and 90s comics one (leather jacket, piercings, punny guy, same age as Tim, has a #nohomo relationship with Tim, kind of a himbo).

There are a few Ghost superheroes - Greta Hayes (Secret), she was in Tim's run as Young Justice's leader; and Boston Brand (Deadman), who is a member of Justice League Dark (with Constantine and Zatanna and Swamp Thing!). So the DC heroes are familiar with ghosts and ghost powers.

It's "rogues" gallery, not "rouge". Rouge means "red" in french.

Clark is never abusive to Conner, he just doesn't know what to do with him and chooses to ignore the problem; which, yeah, is mean, but not to the levels that fanon has taken it. And this is in the Young Justice cartoons, not across all depictions. In comics, they consider each other family and that's why Conner took a kryptonian name (Kon-El - of house of El, Kal's family)

The whole "No metas in Gotham" is not true. Batman understands that Gotham is very Fucked Up and that if you add metahumans and heroes with powers trying to do good to the mix it could make things worse. Outsiders don't understand Gotham and if they get jokerized or mind controlled, it will get ugly real quick. That's why Signal is cool beans! Duke is a gothamite through and through.

While is interesting that no one in the Batfam knows about Tim's missing spleen, is very probable that Alfred knows - post about this

Constantine is more powerful than it looks like. A post about interesting abilities.

Damian has a metal spine. Yeah I don't know how it works either. They used it as way for Talia to control Damian for a bit :(

Interesting links:

What's fanon in DP

Fan project for Ghost Speak, written and spoken form, and a ghost speak generator - post AGIT canon

Transcripts of all the Danny Phantom episodes

The whole DP series + the complementary comics + A Glitch in Time comic (if you are able to buy the AGIT comic please do 🙇‍♀️)

How to pronounce Ra's Al Ghul

BatPham ship names (updated regularly).

What are the canon ages of the Batfam?

In depth guide to everything Batman in one place (be prepared to go down the rabbit hole)

Fanon vs Canon Batfam edition

Superfam family tree

Interactive map of Gotham (Gotham Knights videogame)

Timeline of events (Batfam adoption order and ages when those events happen)

Map of Gotham (made based on various sources, with annotations (check the reblogs for more info))

The Titans Tower attack: Fanon vs Canon

This person has dedicated a lot of time to research receipts of Comic stuff so check out their masterlist

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Suggestions are welcome! Please be kind with each other and remember to have fun with this fandom!

#dpxdc cheat sheet #cheat sheet #dp #danny phantom #dc #batman dc #dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dp crossovers

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obsessedwithlute · 25 days

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If The Hazbin Hotel Characters Worked At A School

Charlie- You might think Charlie would be the principal but NO! Charlie is the therapist! She tries to get everyone into her office for a session by the end of the year- including the teachers! Vaggie- Vaggie would teach mainstream math. Her favorite thing about teaching math is giving people extra homework when they disrupt her class. (A lot of people leave with extra homework. One time Angel Dust walked in on her in the middle of a test, and she made him do a homework sheet).

Angel Dust- He is a substitute. He's actually qualified to teach computer science, but he doesn't. It's his best kept secret why he doesn't.

Husk- He teaches Italian. He's not properly fluent in Italian and only got the job because Lucifer lost a gamble to him and Husk said he'd let him keep his money if he did "one tiny favor". Angel Dust likes to lurk outside Husk's classroom when he gets the chance, and the second Husk mispronounces a word, Angel will stick his head in, correct him and then dart back out. Husk pretends to hate it but he actually finds it really hot. (Angel Dust was also actually the one who TAUGHT Husk Italian).

Lucifer- Lucifer is the principal. He doesn't really care what most of his employees do, including stalking the Italian teacher, cruel and unusual punishment during guitar lessons, or fucking in the janitor's closet. As long as "most of his employees" doesn't include Alastor.

Alastor- Alastor actually teaches health, or sex ed, or whatever you call it. He went to college and got a degree and didn't do it "The Husk Way" all so he could do two things: 1. Properly represent queer people, especially trans people, during the class because he knows, as a trans person, that it's really hard not to feel undermined during the class. 2. Make jokes about being an asexual person teaching sex ed (I'm not asexual/aromantic but it just seems like the kind of thing Alastor would do- especially considering how he reacts to Angel badly propositioning him). If you make a queerphobic comment in Alastor's class, you're dead. Possibly literally. Alastor never actually adheres to the curriculum, and Lucifer keeps trying to break into his class and catch him but somehow Al is always two steps ahead. When Lucifer is not at school, Alastor takes his whole class down to the kitchens and has them make jambalaya for the whole period. If you can't eat jambalaya, Alastor has a whole closet full of alternative ingredients for you but EVERYONE IS EATING SOME FORM OF JAMBALAYA OR EVERYONE HAS TO FIX ALASTOR'S VINTAGE RADIOS DURING DETENTION FOR A MONTH.

Lute- She teaches biology and is that one teacher who everyone either loves or hates. She runs the GSA and has weekly meetings and she's also the teacher who becomes your replacement mom if your real mom sucks. (This also applies to the teachers, she's also basically Angel Dust's mother by now). If you make a queerphobic comment in her class, she will stalk for exactly two weeks after you say it, slowly recording every single discriminatory thing you say. Then she will make you stay after school hours and reads off her entire list. Then she assigns you detention for two weeks and makes you write a 5-page essay on whatever chapter of Queer Ducks her heart desires in size 8 Arial font during the few precious hours of the day you don't have detention.

Adam- He teaches the jazz band, and if you play guitar, you get double lessons. Twice a month, Adam conducts tests randomly. You have to get up and play a song of his choice- no sheet music allowed. If you mess up even once, Adam gets to smack your guitar with a rock and you get to pay for the damages. (Lucifer knows, doesn't care, and makes rubber duck voodoo dolls all day long.)

Cherri- She teaches gym and if a student isn't running fast enough, she throws basketballs at them. Not hard to HIT them, but just enough to give them some motivation.

Sir Pentious- He doesn't work at this school. He works at a preschool in a different town. But since it's only a half-day, as soon as he gets the chance, he leaves and goes to stare longingly at Cherri while she somehow manages not to get fired. Everyone is just used to him being there, and he's fine with that.

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jjksblackgf · 9 months

Text

too daring for you? | knj (m)

pairing — kim namjoon x reader summary — Namjoon can't keep your roleplaying idea off his head, so he'll make sure to surprise you with it when you least expect it. genre — smut, pwp rate — 18+ word count — 1.9k warnings — explicit sexual content, role playing, oral sex (m receiving), deepthroating, teabagging, manhandling, light degradation, cum eating.

Perfume, check.

Leather jacket, check.

Favorite watch, check.

Tonight, Namjoon was a different man. His night would not be the same as the others. No more boring date nights inside his apartment. Today he’ll go to a nice bar, where you’ll be expecting him. But what you’re not accounting for is his intentions.

Today he’s fulfilling a fantasy. One he’s been intrigued by since you’ve mentioned it. But to pull it off, he has to be his best confident self. Be in his A game and catch you by surprise.

Checking himself in the mirror and everything looks fine, appropriate. Except his expression. He’s not ready for this. He can only think of your request to spice things up. He didn’t know they needed spicing up in the first place.

“I’m living my greatest fantasy right now,” he remembered saying. You two were cuddling in his bed after sex. You were cozied up to his chest, and he ran the tip of his fingers through your naked spine. He was almost purring.

“Cuddling?” you asked, sounding surprised.

“Intimacy,” he answered, giggling at your amazed expression.

“Really?” you checked. “But I can’t say I’m that surprised. You’re always so… intense.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t really think we have sex per se, I see it as passionate love making. You’re fully committed to it.”

“And you’re not?” he asked. Your last sentence had his alarm bells turned on.

“Of course I am, love. Don’t get me wrong.” you shifted in bed, supporting your weight in one elbow to look at his face. “And I love that you’re passionate, and that you’re into all sorts of intimacy.”

“But?” he pressed, trying to stay calm.

“But… I, personally, wouldn’t categorize intimacy as a fantasy. I swear I’m not judging you.”

“Okay…”

“Are you mad?” you asked, and he watched as your brows furrowed in concern.

“What do you consider a fantasy?” he asked, letting his curiosity get the best of him. You just stayed in silence and studied his face, your brows still furrowed. “I’m not mad,” he clarified, making sure his voice sounded calm enough.

He was telling the truth. Mad was not the correct word to describe his feelings. He was a little worried that he wasn’t satisfying you, so he was worried. He wanted you all to himself — soul and body, especially body — and he wanted you to moan how much you belonged to him, so he was possessive. He didn’t even want to think about the possibility of another man finding the weak spots he worked so hard to build, so he was jealous. But mad wasn’t one of them.

You sighed, taking him out of his musings, and you answered sheepishly. “I like roleplaying,” you whispered. He hummed in acknowledgment and changed the subject.

But that night still ran through his mind every time you had sex, and in the ride to that bar he replayed that scene over and over again. He had to know what you were like, who you were, when you didn’t want to be yourself.

That was enough to give him back his confidence in his idea. His curiosity got him into this mess, and it was that same itch that would get him through it.

The slick wood arches over the bar were the first thing to catch his eyes when he entered. The low light above the tables and booths complimented nicely with the black leather chairs. The live band wasn’t half bad with the smooth jazz.

The atmosphere was sexy. He picked right.

He sat on a bar stool and asked for his favorite drink.

“A manhattan for me, please,” he heard a familiar voice say, and he turned around to fall in love with you all over again.

Your smile was big when you looked at his face, and you opened your mouth to start talking, but Namjoon was set on making this night special from beginning to end. After all, he didn’t let you in on his plans for a reason. He wanted to see the desire and lust in your eyes when you realized his idea. Another thing he was curious about.

“Hello, stranger,” he started, offering his hand. When you accepted it, he took it to his lips, planting a sweet kiss there. “I must be pretty lucky to have such a beautiful face sit right next to me.”

“Thank you…” you said. Your tone of voice gave away your confusion, bending at the end, making it sound like a question. Namjoon guessed you were trying to understand his strange behavior.

“Does your pretty face come with a name?” he continued. He was amused by the many emotions running through your face, but he hadn’t quite reached the one he wanted to see the most yet.

“What?” you asked.

“Oh, no worries. I don’t mind a little mystery.” he leaned towards you and took a sip of his drink. “My name is Namjoon by the way. I hope I get to know you better this evening, angel.”

Jackpot.

Your face lit up with understanding, and a sly smile adorned your face.

“You sound intriguing, Namjoon.”

“I could say the same thing about you.” he winked and was pleased when you bit your bottom lip. He made sure the bartender knew he’d pay for the drinks and made a move to leave. “I must leave now. But if you want to have the time of your life, here’s where to find me,” he said.

He handed you a card with the name of a club and some cash for the Uber. “I’ll be waiting for you, angel. I know you won’t disappoint me.” he said, leaning closer to your face and inhaling the scent of your perfume. “Your name is on the list,” he whispered to your ear, before planting another kiss to your earlobe.

Arriving at the club was easy enough. The waiting for you to show up was almost a torture device.

Did he do it right? Did you feel controlled, like he was dominating your decisions? Were you turned on by the idea? At the end, after he handed you the card, was the glint in your eyes just residue from the surprise? Or did you feel your stomach flutter, much like his own heart was beating out of his chest?

The possibilities were endless.

But it was like you had a neon sign pointed directly at you. He could see your face as you looked for him in the crowd. He took a sip of his drink. Should he go after you, or should he let you find him? He twitched in his seat, his leg bouncing. He must do something.

But alas, there you were.

Eyes still filled with fascination. Your lips parted as you two made eye contact, and Namjoon watched you in awe. Shoulders back, and hips moving side to side, inviting him to glare, to stare, to inappropriately lick his lips. He watched every second of your hands as they ran through your body, touching all the places he knew you liked to be kissed. Your neck, your navel, the curve of your hips.

Dancing for him. A show just for him. Other people get to watch and envy him. But he’s the only one that can touch.

Intimacy be damned. He liked this fantasy better.

You curled your fingers, inviting him to dance. He didn’t have to think twice.

He didn’t recognize himself. The Namjoon of yesterday wouldn’t do such a thing. Too timid to dance like this in public. To grab his partner by the waist and ogle at his favorite body parts. But you changed him. Reached his genetic makeup and twisted it to your liking.

He liked it too.

He didn’t last more than a song underneath your touch. Your hands ran upwards through his body, but before they could reach his neck and fist his hair, Namjoon was already kissing you. It was urgent, it was inappropriate, it was too damn sexual. He was sure he’d leave the club with a boner.

His tongue unceremoniously intertwined with yours, and his hands grabbed your ass with fervor. You weren’t so cute either. Namjoon remembered you were in a public setting when your hands reached the front of his pants.

He stopped your search, holding your wrists behind your back.

“Not here, angel,” he said, panting.

“I know where,” you offered, twisting your wrists so you’d be hauling him around the club.

You reached the bathrooms, and you shoved him inside before a line could form behind you. Before he could ask about your intentions, you pushed him against the wall, kissing him again. He allowed himself to go further, biting your neck and leveraging his position to grind his groin against your abdomen.

“Fuck, I can’t take this,” you said, dropping to your knees and opening his zipper.

His cock was already hard when you wrapped your mouth around him. He moaned your name repeatedly as you massaged his length in synchronicity with your lips. He moaned even louder when his tip reached the back of your throat. Your gag reflex made your throat even tighter, and he wanted to scream your name.

But of course you had to surprise him, using his length to slap your face and tongue, and putting pressure around his base. And that was enough for him to be overwhelmed by his instincts. He grabbed a chunk of your hair with one hand and secured your jaw open with the other, inserting himself in and out as he pleased.

He thrusted his hips once more, as far as your mouth would allow. He wanted to feel your throat closing around his tip again. He only let you up for air after you tapped his thigh. But he wasn’t done being rough. The trail of saliva left between his dick and your tongue inspired him even further.

“Open your mouth,” he demanded, his voice almost an octave lower, and you obliged with a smile. He spit on your tongue before placing his testicles inside your mouth. Between the warmth of your tongue and his agile hands, he was close. “Fuck,” he moaned, inserting his dick in your mouth one last time before climax overpowered him. “I want to see you swallow it,” he asserted, already adjusting his pants.

You did as he asked and opened your mouth showing your tongue to prove it. Your smile was as big as he’d ever seen. If he knew you’d be this wild, he wouldn’t have been so reluctant to comply with your wishes.

“Good,” he said, taking a deep breath and helping you get to your feet.

Before you could say anything, or even better, go home to finish the night, there was a banging on the bathroom door.

When Namjoon opened it, he was met with a security guard, followed by an irritated manager.

“Oh, goody,” the manager said, taking a look around Namjoon to find you hiding behind him.

“Would you two please step aside? The bathroom is off limits from certain activities. I’m gonna have to escort you out of the premises.”

“Sure, that’s no problem.” Namjoon didn’t turn around to look at you. He just squeezed your hand as you two walked out of the club, but he knew your whole body was burning from embarrassment. “Well, there’s a story to tell our grandkids,” he joked once you two were on a cab headed home.

“If you tell them any of this, I will slowly poison you,” you threatened. “But I do need to tell them how amazing you are in all aspects,” you gushed, hugging his neck. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Anytime, angel.”

#bts x reader #rm x reader #namjoon x reader #bts smut #namjoon smut #bangtanbathhouse #btsafterdarknet

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