#i hope u enjoyed this drabble anon! thank you so much! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

freyito · 6 months

Note

hiii first of all i just love your drabbles 🫶🫶🫶 Can i request mk1 characters reactions when their partner is hurt? yk when they found out that their s/o is in the hospital or sth. You can write for whoever you want but I would love if you include Raiden, Johnny Cage, Kenshi and Syzoth in this ❤️❤️

✭ pairing(s): liu kang, bi-han [sub zero], kuai liang [scorpion], johnny cage, kenshi takahashi, kung lao, raiden, zeffeero [rain], tomas vrbada [smoke], baraka, syztoh [reptile], havik, general shao, shang tsung, reiko (seperate) x gn reader

✧ a/n: thank u smmmmmm anon!!! i hope this doesnt sound egotistical or anything, but i really cant get enough of people telling me they love my writing, it's really affirming and i will always appreciate it ! it's always like... woah.... really......

this is the perfect request, but i am gonna put my own little spin on this and make it pretty angsty, whoops :P super sorry this one took so long too.... ough i put my heart and soul into it. i hope i am not only tumblr user freyito to you, but an angst writer too... well most of these are angst. some are a little more fluffy and less dire... also just could not for the life of me figure out what to write for geras' so no geras in this one :(

🗒 cw: gn reader, certain character's deaths, gore/blood, depiction of death, angst, in some you are close to death, stitching without painkillers in havik's, kidnapping in shang tsung's/mention of kidnapping in rain's, not proofread

✎ wc: 6.3k

ᴛʜᴇ ᴋᴏᴍʙᴀᴛ ʙᴏʏꜱ + ᴀ ʜᴜʀᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⎯Liu Kang

Not much evokes emotion in him. He is a god, he must been even with his feelings, and any shift in the balance could set so many things wrong. On the battlefield, there is no room for failure. With you, he's always been relatively neutral, he makes sure you know he loves you, and he's gentle with you. Yet, he keeps a distance. Liu Kang harbors a fear deep down, that his actions, his status, will bring you to your end. He's a sought out target, after all.

So, when those fears come true, Liu Kang can't help but feel his rage consume him. To watch Shang Tsung's claws dig deep into you, festering, plaguing your own strength. Ripping into you, decorating his hands in your warm blood. Shang Tsung had done this because of Liu Kang, he was so sure. Flames engulfed him, near incinerating the foot soldier he had been fighting. He approaches Shang Tsung, as you lay at his feet, struggling to breathe. Unforgivable. To do this to his starlight, Liu Kang will not make this mans death slow and savory, no. Within an instant, he pushes Shang Tsung's head through his own body, splitting the man in half, as well. Death is too merciful, but alas, that is not important, now.

Once the initial wave of anger washes off, adrenaline and logic set in. Liu Kang picks you up, he treats you as if you're porcelain. Just barely, as you struggle to stay conscious, you can hear him assuring you it's okay. That nothing else will happen. It is unclear whether he is saying this to you, or himself. Regardless, he leaves the battlefield quickly. He knows his comrades can handle the rest. But knowing that he is so close to losing you, as you bleed out within his arms, it is haunting. Every second counts, and he knows it. He entrusts your care to the medics at the Wu Shi academy, as much as he trusts them, he cannot bring himself to leave your side. For hours, he is still covered in your blood. His eyes do not leave your face, resting and peaceful, even with death knocking on your door.

Liu Kang is there every step of the way. When you are in recovery, he makes sure to attend every session. He brings you books, something to keep you occupied on the days where you are stuck in bed. Regrettably, he can't enjoy a lot of alone time with you, because duty calls. He'd love nothing more than to spend every waking moment with you, but he still has stuff to attend to. However, when you are cleared to leave the academy, he keeps you close. Liu Kang is afraid it will happen, the image of you bloodied and ripped up still fresh in his mind. He's only a little protective, the thought of you going back into Kombat a little rattling. But he does not stop you. Because it makes him feel better knowing that you are back on your feet.

⎯ Bi-Han

As the grandmaster's partner, Bi-Han knows that you could be caught in danger. But he does not lament this. He does not celebrate it, either. He admires that you can fight, and he loves fighting by your side. He always looks out for you, of course he does. But he cannot be by your side in a large fight, he knows you can hold your own.

It is a sharp cry that draws his attention towards you. That is all he needs. Bi-Han prides himself on being an even and logical man, but the minute he sees A Tengu assassin's knife dug deep into your ribs, he snaps. Within an instant the battlefield grows colder, and the second you blink, the assassin already has his spine ripped out and shattered. A little bit of a flashy display for a man like him, but he wastes no time in bathing in the glory of his kill. He was lucky enough that the fight was nearing an end, the last of the Tengu clan that was sent out were either retreating or being taken care of.

Off you go to the medics of the Lin Kuei, and he insists you are priority. The one thing Bi-Han was unfair with was you, near fighting with the medics to tend to your wounds. Your blood paints his hands and upper torso, and he refuses to wash it off. Not until he knows that you have priority. When the medics relent, he finally disappears to wash off. He cannot stay by your side as much as he'd like, but he's not only restricted by his title, but his emotions. He takes a couple minutes outside, to calm down his own nerves. Bi-Han does not cry, but a few shaky breaths escape him as he tries to calm himself down. His mind races with every possible outcome, ultimately landing on the worst.

But, Bi-Han's thoughts do not come to fruition. The medics have worked their magic, and you are on the path to recovery. As much as he'd love to be with you, he cannot. But, he does send you a bunch of gifts. Letters, mainly. Small incentives for you to recover quickly, but he sends in flowers frequently, as well. The days he does visit you, he is a softer man. He's especially gentle with you around your ribs. He keeps a very close eye on you during missions once you are out of recovery. He doesn't mean to seem overbearing, but his position alone paints a big ol' target on your head. This attack was the first that brought that to his attention.

⎯ Kuai Liang

Fighting alongside a pyromancer is tricky, to say the least. There's a lot of variables to account for, and aside from that, Kuai Liang can't really keep an eye on you in certain instances. This was one of them, a rather messy battle, one where he couldn't keep track of you. Not that it mattered, he knew you were strong enough to hold your own.

However, it is a stray spark that leads you to stumble back. You flinch, which drives you back into the sword of the enemy. When Kuai sees this… the world goes silent. Water stills, flame fizzle out, swords clash and the dull clang of steel against steel quiets. Only for the water to suddenly form a raging tide, the flames to burn brighter, and the steel fades against the sound of a brilliant flame. In your fading vision, you see your partner's kusarigama impale your attacker's jaw, and pull it clean off. It is a sight he will regret later.

When the battle is over and the medics have taken you away, all Kuai Liang finds himself doing is worry. Pacing constantly, he messes up the mission report and has to have Tomas or someone else from the Shirai Ryu. He can recount things normally without a hitch, but knowing that it was him and his own ‘reckless’ use of his pyromancy with you in such close proximity makes him trip over his words, and even his thoughts. With what little free time he has, he’s pacing outside your cot, frequently checking in on the medics and the progress, until they ultimately have to push him away. Which calms him down, somewhat.

When the medics assure him that everything is fine, and that you are on the path to recovery, he’s much more relieved. He’s a lot less tense, and he’s a lot more coherent. He’s able to compose himself. Granted, he tends to sneak off (when appropriate) to check on you. He really just loves talking with you afterwards, he doesn’t want to bring up any unpleasant memories or thoughts (particularly what you saw before you blacked out), but there will always be a point where you have to talk about it. He’ll also ramp up his affection. The entire ordeal (while he knew what would come with forming the Shirai Ryu) made him realize that maybe he takes you for granted. Kuai Liang has been surrounded by death, sure, but for some reason, when it comes to those he loves… it is hard to understand that life is fleeting.

⎯ Johnny Cage

Johnny is used to deaths and his partner being hurt… on screen. He’s so used to the dramatized version, where his stage partner dies in his arms, and he wails real loud. He’s blissfully unaware that it could, in fact, happen to you in real life. He likes to think of himself as a great source of protection, believes no harm will come your way, not when you’ve got just a big, strong, handsome hunk around. And one of Earthrealm’s Defenders. As much as he’s grown, he still needs to learn a few lessons from the world.

And he’s in for a reality check. There are some unsavory characters out there, ones that aren’t too happy about his status as a whole. All he gets is a call from the hospital and a nice little greeting from officers. The only things he can make out in his newfound panic is ‘attempted murder’, and he’s REELING. He wasn’t there, he reminds himself. He doesn’t know what went down. Officers are still trying to figure it out. In his hazy and reckless state, he goes to his best friend.

Kenshi helps ease his nerves, and gives him a couple of LOGICAL ideas. Considering Shang Tsung had wormed his way into Kenshi’s life to steal Sento (and ultimately got his ass beat), he brings it up. Which leads to a whole meeting with Liu Kang, Raiden, and Kung Lao. To discuss the possible threats, and the future. Johnny cannot sit still that meeting, he’s practically bouncing off the walls, asking what this means for you. Every single question is about you, and you alone. Liu Kang dismisses him, and he practically speeds off to the hospital.

Johnny relaxes when he’s able to finally enter your room,– after a lot of arguing with the doctors about visiting hours– but his mind still spins. How could he let this slide? He should’ve been there, right? Regardless of how much blame he puts on himself, (which it was never his fault to begin with) he’s sat by your bed, sulking. From the police report, it’s clear that it was AT LEAST linked to Shang Tsung, but that’s no longer his problem. He gets you anything from the cafeteria if you ask, and he brings you flowers every. damn. day. He’s got so many gifts coming your way, that when you get discharged, you’re practically smothered by all the gifts he got you as an ‘apology’. When you ask him what he means by an apology, he doesn’t say a single word. Johnny’s very on top of your medication, he’s soooo very delicate with you, he almost condemns you to bedrest. But with enough pushback, you’re able to be up and about; but that doesn’t mean he won’t be worrying over you for quite a while. Even if Liu Kang assures him that it won’t happen again.

⎯ Kenshi Takahashi

Kenshi is aware of the danger that surrounds him and his existence in general. He’s protective of you, of course. And he knows full well that you could be swept up into the mix of the Yakuza, and his work with Liu Kang and the OIA. But, you yourself had fought hard for the relationship and made it clear that you could care less about the potential dangers; even if he felt a little frazzled at all the dangers out there. All the hands that could be grabbing at you, the guns, the knives, the weapons that would be pointed at you the minute you were spotted next to him. You didn’t care.

Yet, when he gets the call that you were involved in some crime, landing you in the hospital, his mind omits all the other details. Aside from the hospital you’re at. He even skips over the fact that it was Jax calling him. Part of him wants to cry. And he probably would, if he could. But he tries to keep himself composed. Whatever he’s been occupied with is now a distant memory, other agents can take over. As calm as he looks on the outside, there’s a war raging within him. He knew this would happen. Ever since he felt feelings for you, he knew.

When he finds you at the hospital, Sento left behind, he’s scared. He doesn’t know if he should be grateful that he can’t see you, or if he should lament over it. While the doctors had described your injuries as non-fatal, and that you’d recover in no time, Kenshi’s mind has already spun a horrifying image, but once the doctors have left, he can hear your soft breathing underneath all the bustle of the machines. And it soothes him. Only then does he find some peace of mind, you are safe, and the danger has passed. Somewhat. When his worry starts to dissipate, he remembers that Jax had actually called him first, not the hospital. When he calls Jax back, the first thing he says is that he’s taking time off, and Jax doesn’t protest. They discuss what happened and that it is now a government matter, and something that expands past OIA boundaries. The short version of the conversation is that someone from a different timeline had managed to worm their way into this one, and harm you. Someone with striking similarity to himself.

Now that Kenshi has calmed down and knows you’re safe, he understands why the nurses and the law enforcement seemed tense around him. It unnerves him, to say the least. That another version of himself would hurt you. His heart, his guiding light. It’s also an entirely new threat that he hadn’t accounted for. Once discharged from the hospital, you have all of his attention. He’s oh so gentle with you, like any little touch and you’ll crack. He does every chore around the house for weeks, until you’ve fully healed. He cooks a lot (with the help of Sento), even bathes you (despite your protests). It’s his way of an apology for what happened, and not just that, but an apology for being with him. He holds immense regret over this, knowing that– even if it was another him from another timeline– he did this.

⎯ Kung Lao

Kung Lao is… protective, alright. And that often gets swept up within his cockiness. Of course, you do feel pretty safe with him. Maybe not around the hat, but you do feel safe around him. Aside from his interesting choice of weapon, he’s a great martial artist. And also just someone who’s really nice to cuddle with. He’s a Shaolin Master, of course he’s going to be a horrifying opponent.

And, there would be hell to pay if anyone hurt his love. He isn’t just all bark. Even the thought of you being hurt has him seething, he tends to overthink. There’s a lot of things that have made him realize that he may be a high value target– even if he can’t help but think he’s done nothing to get to that point. But, under Liu Kang, and just the title ‘Defender of Earthrealm’, there’s some sort of pride that lingers. Something that makes him want to challenge anyone and everyone he can, tell them to ‘bring it on’.

But not at the expense of you. The one thing bigger than his ego? His heart. So, when you stride into Wu Shi Academy,– though, limp is the better term– all cut up and bruised, barely able to speak or see, there’s a rage that burns within Lao. One that even Raiden hasn’t seen. He can’t help but run his mouth about how he’ll teach whoever the hell got to you a lesson. But he’s also despondent, he barely touches his food, he barely shows up to Madame Bo’s… and that makes her worried, until she learns about what happened to you from Raiden. Now not only does the culprit have a bastard with a really sharp hat after them, but the most badass little old lady after them, too. Madame Bo loves you like one of her own, really. She dotes on you, where she’ll normally scold the boys. You are her golden child.

Ultimately, their shared hunt leads to a dead end. Your mind is too hazy to remember anything aside from a silhouette, before getting beaten senseless. As much as Lao seems hellbent on tracking the culprit down, he ultimately gives up when you ask him. But, as you recover, he seems to be in much better spirits. He likes to curl up next to you at night (despite the monks telling him not to), just to reassure him that you’re safe. And Madame Bo arguably puts on more of a show than Lao does. She treats you with free food every day of your recovery, and when you’ve got clearance to be walking around without supervision again, she’s made a FEAST for you. While it feels all sunshine and rainbows once you’ve recovered, Kung Lao works tirelessly to get better. He blames himself, mainly for the fact that no matter what he did, he couldn’t find the one who did this to you. Even if you tell him outright that it is okay. It’s another mark on his list of failures, to him.

⎯ Raiden

When he got the amulet, Raiden didn’t exactly have it down. It took a great deal of focus and strength to hone it, more than he’s known. Sure, there have been some points where it feels like he’s got it down, like he can actually control the lightning. But before the tournament, he had a hard time controlling it, and spent many days doing his best to hone this new power. It was exhausting, and took a toll on him, both physically and mentally. He might have been trained nearly his whole life in martial arts, but that doesn’t necessarily correlate to any sort of magic.

However, it is his connections that ground him. Kung Lao, yes. But you, mainly. Normally, his training sessions with the amulet consist of him trying not to fry Lao, while you sit by and encourage him. A positive environment encourages progress, right? That’s what Raiden thinks, anyway. And all things considered, he’s doing well today. The lightning had been easily tamed, Lao hadn’t been zapped, and all was well.

While training with a staff, however, one wrong move sends a strike horrifyingly close to you. You barely register what happened, the loud bang by your right is followed by a popping feeling, like you’ve been in high altitude, a sharp pain through your eardrum, and then a dull ringing in your right ear. Raiden comes running up to you near immediately, checking over you. Your mind spins at how fast things happened, so you can’t necessarily explain clearly to him what you felt. Before you can collect yourself, Raiden is suddenly set on high-alert, and hauling you away to the medics at Wu Shi. Even Lao is a little confused as he follows after the two of you.

At the medics, you’re able to piece everything together. Ruptured eardrum, and Raiden can’t help but blame himself for it. When you’re getting checked over, Raiden is pacing outside, and Lao is trying desperately to calm him down. It had been a fear of his since the very start of his training. But as time went on and you went unharmed… it started to slip into the back of his mind. He feels horrible for letting go of that worry, for letting it happen. And when the medics let you go and tell you that it’ll heal in a couple weeks, you do your best to comfort him next to Lao. When it’s just you two, however, Raiden is a lot more calm. The adrenaline of the moment got to him earlier. Still, all he feels he can do is apologize, as much as you assure him it’s fine. Over the next couple of weeks, he’s very, very mindful of himself. He’s practically banned you from his training sessions, he makes sure to approach you from your left side or make his presence known if he’s coming up from behind you.

⎯ Zeffeero

There’s not much Rain has to worry about in his day-to-day life, even with his status as High Mage. He knows his title holds weight, but he believes that if he spends all his time worrying, something will happen sooner or later, and he’ll be more of a mess if it comes true. He’s more worried about his actual duties, coming home to you (almost) every night, and what books he will read on his days off.

That being said, he isn’t able to spend all his time with you. Which is a bummer, really. His job isn’t necessarily ‘remote’. He doesn’t worry over you too much, he knows you’re strong enough to cover for yourself. And those who are against him and the royalty should be smarter and focus their attention towards him and Sindel. Keyword, should.

So, when Zeffeero is met by the couriers during his duties, he’s confused. The only words he can make out in their frantic speech is your name, and hostage. Which snaps him out of his normally calm demeanor. But, regardless, he does his best to stay collected. He gets the couriers to explain the situation clearly, that Sindel’s detractors had chosen you out of all people to make an example. The good news is that it was dealt with just as quickly as you had been taken away, criminals don’t really get their way so easily in Sun Do, especially.

But that doesn’t mean they didn’t do a number on you. Rain immediately puts his work to the side and meets you at the infirmary. You’re pretty beat up, a couple bruises on your arms and a gash on your forehead, and the medics inform him that you’ll need to stay here for at least another week, you’ve gotten a couple of bruised ribs, as well. For the next couple of days, he is by your bedside, perfectly on time when the medics open up visiting hours. He’ll even do his work by your side, filling countless journals and going through way too many reports as he does.

⎯ Tomas Vrbada

Stealth missions require the utmost focus, especially ones of this caliber. Tomas is confident in your ability, so he doesn’t worry unnecessarily over you. But his mind can tend to wander sometimes. Still, he does his best to remain on track, stalking through the rampart. It was a simple recon mission, keep an eye on the territory. It had been left abandoned after the events of Armageddon, but there had been indications that Bi-Han was looking to start something there again. Considering the cyberization of the Lin Kuei, Kuai Liang and Tomas agreed to simply check it out, make sure nothing was being done.

And they were right to be suspicious. Either out of paranoia, or a hunch, Bi-Han had sent scouts as well. This makes the operation a lot more high-risk, both parties may be aware of each other, but have no idea where the other is. It looks as if there’s a rather hefty amount of spies in the rampart as well. As Tomas stalks through the tops of the wall, searching for anything slightly out of place, he gets the sudden feeling that he’s being watched.

Just as he raises his head, he hears the thwip of a bow string, causing him to jerk away from his position. An arrow flies past his head, a few centimeters from it, and as he follows it’s trajectory, he sees you, across the rampart. Fighting with two ninjas, doing your best to, well, stay alive. Realizing that you two are horribly outnumbered, he completely ignores the archer behind him. Utilizing his practical magic, he wastes no time disappearing and taking off. It’s not as easy as it sounds, practically throwing himself off the wall and doing what he can to make it across the rampart. As adrenaline rushes through him, his actions are near mindless, reckless, jumping over stray ballistas and rubble. Does he know that this could put his life at risk? That it puts the mission at risk? Yes. But there’s a tiny voice inside of him that screams at him, tells him you are much more important than the mission. He got the intel anyways.

Things blur together for Tomas after that. He can’t remember exactly how he reached you, he can’t remember what he did with the two ninjas, the only thing that brings him back to the present moment is the pained breaths of yours and heaved gasps. He’d been singing some lullaby that he couldn’t remember the name of, his voice cracking here and there. His throat is raw, blood pouring from a head wound, and he can’t tell if the blood coating his arms is from you, who lay motionless (but thankfully breathing) in his arms, the ninjas, or his own. He’s barely noticed that he’s made his way to Harumi’s house. Not to Kuai Liang– to Harumi. Which, eventually, the knowledge that you’ve been hurt and that the Lin Kuei are pushing to claim territory over the Rampart. When Harumi guides the two of you to a room while she calls for the medics, all Tomas can do is blame himself. He’s spaced out the entire time, the only thing that snaps him out of his catatonic state is when they try to separate the two of you. He doesn’t let them. He doesn’t let anyone separate you from him. He’s too scared that he will lose you.

⎯ Baraka

While the restrictions on those inflicted with Tarkat have been lifted slightly, there is still some public animosity towards Tarkattens. And some of those people tend to direct their anger at those who support this decision, or those close to those afflicted with Tarkat. And unfortunately, you just so happen to be one of those people.

You aren’t entirely vocal about your relationship with Baraka, but you aren’t entirely quiet about it, either. The only reason Baraka doesn’t talk about you two is because he is afraid of what could happen to you. It doesn’t matter if the public’s opinion will turn, if there will ever be a cure, he has always been distant. He loves you, and good god, he’d do anything to even hold your hand. But he is afraid. He can’t help but be afraid of what will happen to you.

And rightfully so, when you are visiting Sun Do with Baraka. It’s a routine visit, to talk about how to integrate precautions for those with Tarkat, and how the vaccine progress is coming along. It feels like hours in a stuffy room, talking with Mileena. Eventually, you step out for a moment, to get some fresh air, and to clear your head. Unfortunately, one of the people against the aid for Tarkattens takes this as an opportunity to attack you in broad daylight.

Luckily, you don’t have to suffer much. A couple of kicks and hits that have left a couple of bruises, but the Constabulary was able to pull them off you quickly. The commotion brings Mileena and Baraka out, which leaves you feeling a little flustered. Needless to say, the talks for that day are cut short, and Baraka spends his time worrying about you. He asks you to stay in Sun Do for a while, that he can handle the talks himself now.

⎯ Syzoth

Syzoth’s biggest fear is Shang Tsung. Even after all is said and done, the fear still lingers. With his past, he can’t help but worry, especially about you. He wants to imagine a future with you, and he’s more than content with the days you two spend together, but he will never be able to shake the idea of his happiness being ripped from him again. While he is still all cuddly with you, there is something always gnawing at him. An eternal dread.

And his fears come true, in some way. He had to leave home for a couple of days, out on official business. It was nothing major, nothing that would pull him from you for longer than a week. Integrating yourself along with Zatterans was a challenge alright, something you didn’t mind facing. Syzoth had said it was a good way to get them used to humans, to earthrealmers.

However, when he comes back home, he is greeted by you, with a black eye, and multiple, bandaged, gashes down your arms. You smile at him warmly, despite your injuries, which have had at least two days to heal. He’s stunned, and after a moment of silence, he’s all over you, asking question after question. Despite what he asks, he knows what the Zatterans have done to you.

He tells himself he should’ve known, as they had killed those with his mutation, he should’ve known that they would’ve treated you the same. You can’t give him exact details, you can’t even give him a description. It happened all too fast, and you were helpless in the moment. He spends the next week by your side, never leaving, unless it was for food, or necessities. When you two are out, he’s very diligent about his surroundings, and those around them. Most of the Zaterrans express their apologies to you, even if it wasn’t them, which makes Syzoth even more wary about who he should be keeping an eye on.

⎯ Havik

Danger comes with the territory of dating Havik. Yeah, he keeps you close, but he’s wanted. And he’s well aware, he tends to get himself in fights quite often. If you wanna participate? Hells yeah, he’s all in. But if you’d rather sit back, hide away, anything like that, he doesn’t mind. Even if he prefers a more active partner on the battlefield. Just because he’s got his anarchic ways and enjoys a little bloodbath every now and then, doesn’t mean he’s thrown care and (at least) sympathy into the wind. Granted, it’s hard to coax that reaction out of him.

But, it’s different with you. His heart; quite literally. He’d do anything for you, he’s (almost) as obedient as a dog. But when he gets to watch you in kombat… it’s a treat. He’s like actually drooling. He’s got a twisted sort of smile on his face when you slash through enemies. Sometimes just the thought of it makes him blush. He’s a little fucked up, actually! But for a being who thrives on chaos, that’s the norm.

When it comes to you being injured, if it’s just a little nick, (which is categorized very loosely; can be deep cuts, slashes, not just a scrape) he doesn’t find any reason to retaliate against your assailant. Havik is proud to have a lover that can take care of things themselves, but that doesn’t mean he won’t leap at the chance to tear someone limb from limb. Especially if you’re wounded near fatally. That’s when any semblance of humanity leaves him. He’s brutal, horribly so, and for once, you have to turn your head away.

When the fight’s done, Havik returns to you, covered in blood and viscera. He made it quick, as much as he would’ve enjoyed making it slow and painful, he knows that time is of the essence. Given his situation, he can’t really take you anywhere. So a little impromptu ‘healing’ session is underway. Some alcohol (that’s 100% not stolen) and some pressure to make sure the bleeding stops and that you don’t get an infection. After, he’s got to stitch up the wound. As he does so, he’s murmuring praises,– a rare thing from him, really– doing his best to make this as painless as possible.

⎯ General Shao

There is no greater place than the battlefield to Shao. It is something he grew up on, and to be fighting side by side with his beloved, it fills him with pride. Of course, he knows the dangers, he knows there’s a target on his back, but he could care less. He almost revels in it. Yes, he’ll worry about you, but he also knows that you can handle yourself.

But that doesn’t mean he isn’t above teaching those who choose to hurt you a lesson. He’s sensible, he’s strong, and he’s just a little, teensy weensy bit protective of you. Of course, you can handle fights on your own. But it’s when the enemies got you in a tough spot, managed to daze you, anything like that. That’s when Shao lets hell break loose.

A sword pierces through your arm, and while it’s not fatal, the minute Shao sees it, he’s raging. A bloody warpath follows him as he marches towards the assailant, the opponent he had been fighting long forgotten. He can’t gloss over an injury like that, he is unsure if they had cut through the brachial artery. So he makes it quick, practically splitting them in two as you watch. The battle continues to rage on, but all Shao can do is huff and encourage you to make an escape,– mainly because he’s afraid you might bleed to death– even if you don’t want to.

At the end of it all, you oblige, retreating and making it to the field medics. You are glad to hear that they did not cut through your brachial artery, and that you won’t bleed to death. But the gash in your arm still needs treatment. You’re stuck in that tent for quite a bit, mourning the loss of a good fight. That is, until Shao interrupts. He’s barely pulled back the tarp of the entrance, and he’s already looking for you. And when he spots you, lying down with a defeated look, bored as hell, he’s at your side within an instant. He needs to know the damage, if it’ll take you out of combat, etc etc. He quietly worries over you, which is quite charming in its own way.

⎯ Shang Tsung

Shang Tsung is no pushover. He may be despised, he may have been outcast, but that doesn’t mean he’ll stand there and take it. Especially when it comes to you. He’s a bit of a drama queen, sure, but he’s charming. Even after everything, it seems like people won’t forgive him. They aren’t wrong to leave him unforgiven, either.

But, their anger should be pointed towards him. So when he receives a letter for ransom via courier, he’s rightfully pissed. How dare they take his sunshine away from him, all because of what he’s done. What he’s done. And to try and rip him off, as well. You aren’t worth a mere 50,000 koins! You’re worth at least 5mil! Needless to say, he’s fuming.

What’s he going to do? Ask the Constabulary to help? No! He’s more than capable of handling it himself. A little dirt on his hands never hurt anybody. Time is short, so he rushes over the details. A couple sleepless nights spent scouting, collecting any sort of information, and he’s off to a shabby little shack in the wastes. The audacity of these people to not only take you from him, demand 50k koins, but also keep you in some run-down place! As much as he’s nitpicking what they’ve done to you, he’s doing it to calm himself down. Yeah, he’s got this in the bag, but any one taking his love from him, especially with malicious intent, makes him scarier than his most evil counterparts.

It is there where Shang Tsung finds out the kidnappers haven’t necessarily… prepared. Only two captors, and they’re dealt with easily. Torn into like meat, left to rot. He disregards their state, food for the vultures and whichever desperate soul wanders past. You’re a mess, head down, mind hazy, legs weak. He treats you like a knight saving his darling, picking you up bridal style. He coos at you, whispering things like ‘you’re alright’, and ‘I’m here now’ as he takes you away.

⎯ Reiko

It’s a calm evening, paired with a little sparring. As Reiko watches you train an over-ambitious rookie, he seems lost in thought. Why? It’s unsure. It feels like he’s simply lost his grip lately, he feels that he hasn’t been doing well in combat, and has actually regressed with his progress. Seeing you humble the soldier over and over again somehow reminds him of this, telling himself he needs to catch up on his training, build on his weaknesses.

It’s a subtle snap that brings him back to reality. It seems the trainee had enough of your teaching, and didn’t quite enjoy the lessons you were drilling– punching– into them. They’ve managed to pin you down, thanks to a very direct, very heated punch to the face. They’ve got you in a headlock, spouting nonsense at you like you’ve greatly offended them. You groan, so close to yelling out uncle. But, you’ve gotta admit, you like their fire. Even if it severely clouds their judgment.

Reiko is quick to pull them off of you, grabbing them by the nape as if they were a dog. It’s a little bit of a struggle, mainly the trainee squirming and protesting like a child who’s been denied candy. It’s shameful for him, but the very thought of the runt taking advantage of the moment to hurt you makes him believe they are unbefitting of a soldier. And it makes him a little pissed. He’s lecturing them, doing his best to hold back some very choice words. All the while you’re nursing your possibly broken nose, trying to get Reiko to let up on them. Eventually, you just shoo them away, and then give Reiko his own lecture. They’re your student, so they’ll get your discipline.

He’s not the best at consoling you, especially over something that he’s deemed ‘minor’. A quick ‘are you okay?’ and a nod is all he really gives you. But, after you’ve ended the training session early, and confirmed that your nose isn’t broken, Reiko picks up the opportunity to hone in his skills. Given the fact that you still had time left in your schedule, you take up his offer.

DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

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cheqorb · 3 months

Note

your mer-love fic was so good and ugh i LOVE mermaid au’s (esp with blue lock but theres BARELY any)!!

anyways u should do a pt 2 of your mer-love drabble/fic with rin, sae, kaiser and ness!! i’d love to read it if you do

MER-LOVE, 1.3

mermaid au! bllk boys with a researcher! reader

featuring. rin, sae, kaiser, ness

notes. thank-you for requesting anon! this might be absolute dogwater but hope you enjoy this…a few months after you even asked this (sorryyyy).

mer-love masterlist here !

any interactions with RIN are short and definitely not sweet. if he isn’t being harassed by any other mers that are interested in him, he normally stays around you because you “don’t bother him as much as the others do”. quoted by rin himself; which is considerably high praise coming from the rather aloof merman.

you probably first meet him simply because he got dragged by bachira or the like, but he’s not much of a conversation starter since he just sorta glared at you the whole time. it doesn’t get much better from that point onwards either, you’d think rin believed the world was against him by the way perfectly normal, well-meaning compliments are thrown to the side as if you’re insulting him.

with time though, he’ll start growing more fond of you! how can you tell? unless you’re freakishly talented at guessing people’s real emotions, who knows.

he (kinda) gets cuter in a way? maybe it’s just you being optimistic but you could’ve sworn that he has this look of pride whenever you choose to spend time with him over the other mers. like, of course you don’t want to hang out with weaklings like them or something along those lines. it takes a while but he’s noticeably softer with you than he is with his friends — he actually calls them lukewarm, but that’s just rin for ‘friends’ you think.

“Rin, ya there?”

He stares at you with mild disbelief, which almost makes you burst into a fit of laughter. “Since i’m very clearly here next to you, I think the answer’s quite obvious.”

You nod, grinning. “Thought you’d say that but anyways,” you say whilst reaching into a bag, “I wanted to give you a present! Take it as a token of my gratitude for you chatting with me.”

He eyes the object you give him coldly, but takes it anyway with a ghost of a smile on his face. How adorable.

SAE is someone very hard to come by, and even harder to start conversation with that don’t end in him just swimming away from you. if you thought talking to rin was like talking to a brick wall, just wait till you meet this guy.

he’s seemingly apathetic to anything and everything, incredibly blunt, and overall not a very nice guy. at least his lil brother doesn’t outright ignore you (he does call you an NPC and half baked though)! speaking of which, if you meet rin first you can definitely see the resemblance between the two. appearance is a main one, you would know those under-lashes from anywhere and now you definitely know where he gets the attitude from.

any signs of him ‘warming up’ to you are basically non existent. he’s as straightforward as ever and isn’t keen on the idea of suddenly being all over you like humans normally seem to do with the people they like.

to give credit where credit is due, he tries? even though he’s still a bit brutal with his delivery, you think he tries to avoid being so aggressive with his tone. he’s not exactly sugarcoating things, but simply not saying what’s on his mind as much as he used to. that whole spiel about if you’ve got nothing nice to say, don’t say anything, right? and besides, just him tolerating your presence should be enough for you to understand he’s trying to be nice (it really isn’t).

Sae has a talent for ruining any positive conversations with his honesty, the aftermath typically being him leaving the person or awkward silence ensues. To give credit where credit is due however, you also think he’s got a talent for somehow making people feel better.

He doesn’t sugarcoat things and while it can be harsh, it also means that compliments from him are genuine.

He listens to you rambling on about some annoying incidents at work, making the effort to nod every once in a while to remind you that he’s paying attention. “Sounds like something you can deal with yourself. There’s no reason to worry yourself about it, that’s a waste of your time.”

amidst a certain merman’s grumbling of someone called ‘KAISER’, you gain snippets of info that paint a less-than-flattering picture of the merman. he sounds like a major jerk. yet, despite his (isagi’s) colourful descriptions shall we say, you can't help but wonder if this kaiser fellow’s supposed villainy is just an exaggeration. but then again, to evoke such hatred from the usually amiable merman, he must be quite the character.

your first encounter with him is unremarkable, only seeing him as another mermaid who decided to show their face and you as some random human.

his curiosity is piqued however when he notices how fond the other merfolk are of you, and in typical kaiser fashion he’s determined to outshine everyone else. from your perspective, he’s just a weird dude. it’s as if he expects you to be grateful for his attention, even though it’s clear that he’s the one vying for your approval.

it’d be somewhat cute if it were anybody else, you think..? on him, it’s aggravating.

and yet, the more you pull away, the more determined he seems to become to disrupt any semblance of peace you have. he appears so often that you’ve grown to actually tolerate his presence and it even amuses you sometimes if the day is particularly boring. kaiser finds you just…okay (liar). he means- you’re nothing special so don’t get ahead of yourself but like, if YOU wanted to, he wouldn’t mind being with you until nightfall.

also don’t mention the sheer disgust and almost betrayal on his face whenever he sees one of your total losers of a colleague on watch duty instead of you. even worse if they’re partnered with you.

Judging by the very obvious glare Kaiser has on his face, you would say that he’s not too pleased with the sight of you and (coworker) together. Still, he could at least try be more discreet about it. You sigh as your companion only spares you a sympathetic look.

What’s annoying is that Kaiser occasionally glances in your direction — of course, whilst still glaring daggers at (coworker). Like he wants you to do something about them tagging along.

Having enough of it, you say, “Kaiser, you’re embarrassing me over here and yourself.” He pauses for a moment before simply turning around, probably sulking over the fact that you do indeed have relationships with other people that don’t involve him. That, or he’s embarrassed he got called out.

you’ll naturally come across NESS if you’ve already met kaiser and at first, you simply took him for the more timid type which could be the reason why he follows the former around like a lost puppy. wrong. not in the slightest.

well that’s a little harsh, but you mean that while he definitely has a bashful quality to him, he also seems to flip completely if you dare make a comment about kaiser. it’s a little scary. in spite of his dedication shall we call it, he’s actually one of the easiest mers to get along with. talk to him normally, avoid the topic of kaiser too often, spare some affection for him and he’s all over you soon enough!

just being generally nice around him is something he’ll appreciate it even if he doesn’t say it outright. poor thing is a little unfamiliar with people showing him basic human (or in this case merfolk) decency. makes you want to pat him on the head and spoil him a bit/squish him until he breaks — depending on what type of person you are, i guess.

when he gets more comfortable with you, ness is also clingy. like, really clingy. practically chasing after the other mers if they dare come within 10ft of you kind of clingy. it’s one of those rare moments where you appreciate the fact that kaiser is there since ness is still able to be reasoned if he’s there with him. sounds a little toxic at first but just set him straight and be patient with him. the end result is (hopefully) a slightly more relaxed version of him.

“…You alright, Ness?” you ask hesitantly. The merman in question is suspiciously quiet, especially after he just got into a mini spat with someone else.

Now, he looks up at you as if you’re a saint which weirds you out even more. He nods his head, before asking, “Are you worried about me?”

You’d think it was intended to be a snide comment, if it weren’t for the fact that you were dealing with Ness here. Besides, he says it so sincerely that you’d feel bad for poking fun at him. Maybe later though. “Of course.”

It seems to light up his whole world.

#CHEQ. writing #CHEQ. from the heart #CHEQ. bllk #CHEQ. mer-love #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock imagines #bllk imagines #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x reader #ness x reader #alexis ness x reader

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cheolhub · 1 year

Text

WORTH THE WAIT — KIM MINGYU ࿐

summary. mingyu forgets about the date you’ve had planned and he wants to show you he’s sorry in a rather unconventional way.

wc. 1.8k

warning. unprotected sex, couch sex, dumbification, lots of apologizing, big d!ck!gyu (ofc), kinda angsty but it’s all resolved, creampie — MINORS DNI 18+

note. this idea was sent by my beloved 🌵 anon… like…. literal months ago lol— it was a drabble at first, then it got a bit too long, so enjoy it xx [not proofread, kinda shitty]

contrary to belief, kim mingyu does have a few faults. he can be a bit clumsy and he’ll accidentally eat your leftovers every time he’s over, but the biggest fault of them all is… he can be a bit forgetful.

so when mingyu accidentally double books hanging out with wonwoo on the same night as your date, you find yourself dolled up and waiting around your apartment for him, unaware of his whereabouts. you hadn’t seen him much due to your conflicting schedules and you’d been looking forward to the date all week long.

you wait and wait— 15 minutes, 30 minutes, an hour. you text him a few times, but you don’t get a response and you figure he’s at work, asleep, or doing something else. whatever the case may be, he definitely forgot.

mingyu doesn’t realize this until he’s checking his phone for the first time of the hectic game night and he sees a string of text messages from you.

from you 6:33

i can’t wait to see u!! :,)

from you 7:07

hi babyyy, text me when you’re here and i’ll come down

from you 7:39

gyu are you still coming?

if you wanna reschedule, we can… just text me back and let me know?

from you 8:02

i checked ur location to make sure u weren’t dead and i saw you were at woo’s

i’m just gonna assume ur with him, which is fine :) pls just let me know next time.

shit.

shit shit shit.

regardless of what you say, it’s not fine— he can practically hear your dejected voice through the text and the smiley face doesn’t do shit to mask it.

he’s quick to tell wonwoo and make his way to your place, insides churning at the thought of you feeling stood up. he would never, in a million years, ever want to hurt you in any way.

he doesn’t text he’s here, he doesn’t knock, he just takes the spare key hidden under your placemat and lets himself in.

you’re curled up on the couch in your date outfit watching some random show before you jolt at the sound of your door being unlocked. when mingyu walks in, panic on his face, you deflate a bit, internally thanking the universe that it was just him and not some intruder.

“baby…”

you try to put a smile on as if he isn’t the last person you wanted to see at the moment, but mingyu sees through it.

“hi, gyu.” you say curtly. “hope you had fun at wonwoo’s tonight.”

the subtle shade proves you’re upset, even if you had said it unconsciously. his lips turn down in a frown and he walks around the couch so he’s posted right in front of you.

“Y/N, you have to believe me— i’m so sorry. i got the days—“

you cut him off with a sigh, “gyu, seriously. it’s fine. it’s not that big of a deal. we can just do something the next time you’re free.”

he doesn’t even know when next time will be given his rather strenuous schedule and you know that, yet those words come out of your mouth anyway. he huffs softly and takes a seat next to you, intertwining your hands into his.

“baby, please,” he whispers. “you know i would never stand you up on purpose. i lost my mind and got the days mixed up– please let me make it up to you.”

you shrug, avoiding eye contact. you want to stay mad, but the way he’s looking at you… the way he’s holding your hands… it’s making it impossible not to melt into a helpless puddle. “how?” you ask meekly.

he doesn’t say anything, letting go of your hands in favor of cupping your cheek and pulling you in. his soft lips meet yours and you practically forget why you’re angry to begin with. his tongue quickly finds its way into your mouth and your soft moan eases his nerves a bit.

he pulls back, leaving you warm and fuzzy and a bit needy for more of him. he finally takes you in when his eyes open. you’re still in a pretty little outfit– presumably, one you’d picked out for your date– and it makes him groan a little bit.

“you look so pretty, baby. you wore this all for me?”

you nod your head slowly. “i was really excited to show you…”

he frowns, “i know, i’m sorry… i’m so, so sorry,” he mumbles and you don’t say anymore, simply nodding your head at his apology. his lips are on yours again, rougher this time. it’s like he’s trying to prove just how sorry he is with every passing second.

and when he breaks the kiss again, you whine. “gyu…”

“wanna take this off. can i?” he asks, referring to your dress and you just nod again.

his hands find the hem, pulling it up and over your head, leaving you in your even prettier set. the black lace adorns your body and mingyu feels his pants tighten at the mere sight.

he’s breathless when the pet name falls from his lips, “baby…”

he’s so glad you didn’t change, but he feels like such an idiot for fucking up this bad. he wishes he checked his phone earlier, he wishes he remembered your date was tonight, he wishes he could’ve taken you out in your gorgeous dress and brought you back home to see the even more gorgeous set underneath.

but he’ll make up for it. he’ll spend all the time in the world doing so if he needs to.

he stands to his feet pulling his shorts off and revealing his aching cock. you bite your lip and slide down so your back and head are comfortably on the cushion of your couch, eyes trained on his huge length.

he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, rolling them down your legs and leaving your now-wet cunt bare.

“so beautiful… so fuckin’ beautiful angel, can… can i keep going?”

you whimper and wordlessly nod again, brain unable to give him a verbal response. he grunts, joining you back on the couch by getting in between your legs.

“tell me when…” he whispers, aligning himself with your hole before pressing his fat cock into you. “fuck, so tight…”

the burning stretch of your walls opening to take him makes your head spin a bit. no matter how many times he fucks you, it always hurts.

at first, at least, because now he’s balls deep in your pulsing cunt and all you can feel is blinding pleasure. the burn and stretch have subsided and your brain has turned to complete and utter mush.

you clench around him tightly and he has to ask, “are you good, baby?”

you dumbly nod– it’s all you can do– but mingyu can’t help but feel more anxiety fill his body. you’ve barely said any words to him and it makes him worry that you won’t forgive him.

you moan when his cock leaves just for it to suddenly fill you back up with a single, sharp thrust. this is how it starts before he’s moving faster and faster.

words still fail to leave your mouth, just cute gasps and clipped moans, but mingyu can’t seem to stop breathy apologies from leaving his own. “‘m sorry… you know that right, angel? ‘m so sorry.”

and your eyes just roll back, ignoring his apologies as you’re all consumed by his massive cock fucking in and out of you. mindless babbles escape your lips and it’s not till then does mingyu realize how brainless you’ve become.

it makes his heart clench. you’ve never gotten like this for him before and he knows it’s a result of being left to your own devices for far too long. he knows he hasn’t been there for you, knows you haven’t been able to cum properly in god knows how long and it hurts him. it hurts him so fucking bad.

and, to be transparent, he’s missed you more than you know.

his hand finds your abdomen, pressing down so he can feel himself thrusting into you. in doing so, his thumb reaches your clit and this seems to bring some life to you. “gyu!” you cry. “feels s’good!”

he lets out an elated chuckle at the sound of your voice, “yeah? it feels good, angel?”

and it’s almost like you read his mind with your next words. “s-so good, m-missed you.”

a guttural groan erupts in his throat and he starts to fuck you harder– to fuck you deeper– and the thumb on your clit moves quicker, effectively stimulating the swollen bud. “me too– fuck, missed you so much. missed fucking this pretty pussy so much, baby, you don’t even know.”

your face pinches together in pleasure and you clamp his dick harder at the affirmation. “i-i’m–” you let out a gaspy whine and mingyu knows exactly what it means.

“gonna cum?” he finishes your broken sentence.

you nod eagerly, eyebrows knit together as you feel the formed knot in your tummy get tighter and tighter. “gyu–”

he shushes, thrusts growing erratic. his voice is hot and breathy and you can tell, just by the sound of it, he’s just as close as you are. “just cum for me, baby– need you to let go ‘n cum all over my cock. you can do it.”

you cry, body going taut as you cream all over him, pussy trapping him between your pulsing, velvet walls. mindlessly, you babble out some words that he can barely make out, but the second he hears those three words– i love you, said in your cute, pitchy voice– his worries wash away.

he’s overcome by love and the feeling of you gripping him for dear life and the only thing he can do is press his hips flush against yours and fill you up the way he knows you need. his cum paints your walls, fulfilling the craving you didn’t even know you had.

“god,” he moans, panting out, cock still twitching between your spasming walls. “please forgive me, angel. i promise i’ll be better ‘n make more time for you”

part of your mind finds its way back to you after a few seconds and you can’t help but giggle at his words. “i forgave you after you kissed me, babe.”

he smiles, large hands caressing your body, “really?”

you hum, hazy eyes taking him in, “mmh, you’re really hard to be mad at, you know that, right?”

“good ‘cus i don’t like when you’re mad at me.”

“well, then don’t do stupid things.”

he whines, “baby, you know that’s impossible for me, stupidity is practically in my dna.”

you giggle at the joke. “i know… but… i won’t be so nice to you next time you decided to hang out with wonwoo instead of taking me out.”

“you can be as mean to me as you want, baby, but i swear, i’ll never stand you up ever again.”

“good.” you smile back at him. “now… maybe you can prove how sorry you are again? in my bed this time?”

#mingyu smut #mingyu x reader #seventeen smut #svt smut

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xythlia · 2 years

Note

Could I please request cockwarming scenarios? With either the obey me characters, Stardew valley bachelors, or genshin characters? Thank you!!

꒦꒷♡ . . . DRABBLES \\ COCKWARMING . ·˚ ༘

♡⃕ . . . WARNINGS | f!reader ⸝⸝ cockwarming ⸝⸝ creampie ⸝⸝ biting ⸝⸝ possessive ⸝⸝ pwp ⸝⸝ brat taming ⸝⸝ spit swallowing ⸝⸝ soft sex/morning sex ⸝⸝ lite degradation ⸝⸝ mean dom kaeya⸝⸝ semi-public ⸝⸝ minors do not interact!

♡⃕ ࣪ . . .SPECIAL GUESTS | itto ⸝⸝ alhaitham ⸝⸝ kaeya ⸝⸝ diluc

♡⃕ ࣪ . . . NOTICE | eep i hope u like it anon i strayed a lil bit from just cockwarming bc the second i think of them too hard i just :3 get a lil silly also sorry for any mistakes I'm too lazy to edit (⁠^⁠^⁠)

ITTO . . . "Ah, shit you feel so good," he groans against your neck, nuzzling into your warm skin before his teeth catch against your flesh. It makes you whine, hips bucking desperately but still those firm hands grip you in place on his lap.

"Itto, please," you whine. It felt like torture, being this stuffed full with no friction even the small wiggles of your hips didn't provide any relief and your desire was only rising, growing into some ravenous thing inside your chest.

"C'mon, you can hold out a little longer-" his words fell off into a gasp as you were finally able to lift yourself up, feeling near tears as you slid back down his thick cock, moaning as the feeling of your cunt squeezing around him. You knew you were being a bit of a brat but you'd had enough, an eternity of squirming in his hold crying out for him to just fuck you.

That was all it took for his resolve to shatter, any intention of holding you flush against his thighs abandoned feeling your pussy practically sucking him back in every time you'd lift your hips. The head of his cock pushing against that spongy spot inside you had your vision turning to static, the world barely visible in flashes as you frantically brought his hand to your clit, your fingers clawing against his shoulders as he circled it. It felt like you were on fire, molten lava flowing through your veins before it burst out, leaving you whimpering and biting into Ittos neck as your orgasm crested.

You went blissfully boneless as he fully supported your body, thrusting sloppily upwards into your cunt with strangled grunts and whispers of affection against the side of your head. Every time he cums inside you swear you've never felt more full in all your life, yet each time feels like the first; cum spreading like syrup to coat your insides while he remained hard inside you.

An exhausted smile painted your face, both of you curious how much more you could take tonight and Itto firmly believing you should start every night sat on his lap and milking his cock.

ALHAITHAM . . . Cold. Egocentric. Aloof. All things you'd said to him before, mostly in jest sometimes out of frustration with how detached he could be. Still, none of that mattered when you were creating a puddle of arousal on his lap inside the House of Daena.

"Quit squirming," his cadence hasn't changed despite your needy cunt squeezing around him in a vice grip. The reprimand made an embarrassed heat sear beneath your skin, making it prickle. Nobody got you as worked up as he did, and he was smug in that fact. Knowing you publicly detested him yet privately let him bury load after load inside you gave him a perverted satisfaction.

This was a step above, however. Getting you like this, cunt soaked and shivering from holding yourself back, in a place as risky as this? A feat to be satisfied with.

"You're so run by desire, it'd be repulsive if I didn't enjoy your company," he mused, a wicked grin on his face as he moved his hips to tease you with the promise of friction as one hand snaked up your shirt to pinch at your nipple.

It had you even more keyed up, fingernails digging into the pages of the book laid out before you so hard they were drained of color. So you still had the presence of mind to pretend this was a normal, if bizarrely intimate, study session.

He couldn't wait to see exactly how long you'd last like this.

DILUC . . . Morning light filtered through the gauzy window coverings, the bedroom awash in shades of muted gold that highlighted you, sleeping peacefully beside him.

A strange wistfulness enveloped him, a longing to remain here in this moment for as long as possible. Willing you to remain asleep, swimming through dreams while his hands unconsciously roamed your body. They weren't the ravenous movements of lust, no, but the pensive movements of a man overcome with love.

He did love you, as heart stopping as that revelation had been he was glad for it. It forced him to admit the life of a stoic perfectionist was a lonely one, starkly contrasted by this present warmth with frigid greys.

As his thumbs ghosted over your nipples came the silent I love you. His index traced your bottom lip with the same silent thought. Swiping his fingers through your arousal, feeling his blood thrum hot with eagerness, and feeling the low pressure as the head of his cock pushed past the relaxed muscle he couldn't help but groan the same sentiment out loud as he sunk inside you.

Catching his breath, that zeal ebbed into a lazy comforting one and he had no desire to move or rouse you from whatever pleasant dreams captured you. He only hoped he was in them, too, as he pressed soft kisses to your shoulder and the back of your neck, accompanied by the blissful slight pulse of your walls around him.

KAEYA . . . This was a punishment a long time coming, you were fairly sure. The last few days had seen more bold teasing from you, and his growing irritation with your antics.

Tears pricked in your eyes as his hand gripped your jaw, your mouth open with garbled whimpering. You'd been impaled on his cock for what felt like hours, your cunt throbbing and clit sore from the smacks he'd given you when you'd tried to get yourself off.

And now you were here, spread eagle with your back against the solid desk, his cock buried inside you yet still, and Kaeya with that mean glint in his eye.

"Now now, you couldn't listen yet you expect to be rewarded? That just doesn't make sense," he tutted.

You whined again, hands gripping his forearm as he leaned down closer to your face. You could barely make out the glittering string of spit through the tears gathered at your waterline but you knew this was yet another test.

Enthusiastically you lapped it up, swallowing as you knew he expected you to. Your pussy ached with how badly you needed him to move, wrap your legs around him and feel him flood you with orgasm after orgasm. You needed it so bad your thighs shook, legs trembling pathetically all splayed out.

Even though his face was now unreadable, you hoped you'd earned at least a small reward with that show of obedience.

#genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x female reader #itto x reader #alhaitham x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #itto x fem!reader #alhaitham x fem!reader #diluc x fem!reader #kaeya x fem!reader #itto smut #alhaitham smut #diluc smut #kaeya smut #genshin imagines #꒰ঌꨄ︎໒꒱ kita writes

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sreyaya · 4 months

Note

Ey so I have a Norton smut idea teehee :333

So I wanna req a short smut drabble with Norton's skin Infernal Sin where he worships the reader (preferably gn)

Pls I'm this desperate to see someone write a damn demon going all soft and puppy eyed to a human hhehshhebebhdhehehe

In the Shadows

Infernal Sin!Fool's Gold x gn!Reader NSFW

Content Warning: praising/worship, warm warm warm sex, 600 words, MDNI

(A/n: THANK U FOR THE REQ! I DON'T USUALLY WRITE FG!NORTON BUT I HOPE U ENJOY ANON~ (tried making reader as GN as possible))

smut under the cut!

Everyone was aware of him, his relentless demeanor sending shivers down everyone’s spine. Norton Campbell, no– not that Norton, Fool’s Gold. His mysterious face, body covered in molten lava of anger and heavy wounds casing his body, releasing red flames that erupted with hatred and malice. Even in frequent matches, he lets no one off his hook, a good hunter supposedly.

But it was all different for you, the only person he ever tolerated, adored, devoted himself to. Down the manor halls to the bedroom, he melted under your touch, feeling warmth in his hollow heart. Someone he could finally call his treasure, someone he had been longing for so long. He adored you more than anything else, the one and only, and he knew that all too well.

“You take it so well, treasure. Looking divine as ever,” he cooed, slowly caressing your hair, his eyes drinking in the sight of your already sobbing face as he inched more and more inside.

He was slow with you, why would he hurt his one and only treasure? After a long day of hunting, all he wanted was cuddles and time with his pride and joy, his gold. Releasing low grunts every now and then, his rough palms curving on your cheeks slowly as he entered even deeper, satisfied by how you took him so well.

“So warm for me, just can’t ever get enough of you,” he murmured, admiring every inch of your body as if it was a sacred finding, something he had longed for so long. Your moans sounded like music to his ears, earnest melody for his chaotic mind.

You held onto his shoulders, feeling the texture of his eccentric golden decorations that made him more captivating. Clenching every inch of him inside, you stared at his face ever so deeply, feeling slightly bummed out that his mask covered his handsome face regardless of what it was missing. It felt like as if the world had stopped for the both of you, everything was flawless tonight.

“I adore you too much, my diamond,” he whispered, thrusting sharply once. “You’re so perfect to me, I always wonder why you’d even look my way when everyone does differently,” he continued, not breaking the eye contact you both had. “And when you call my name ever so sweetly, I'm done for,” he said before kissing you deeply.

His crimson wound emitted light and warmth around the both of you. What usually tormented him throughout the nights finally made him feel warm with you. He had always appreciated all these slow nights just being next to you, just the two of you, as he kept himself warm inside, feeling fulfilled more than anything.

“You drive me insane, baby, the way you do everything, you’re so perfect for me,” he groaned, thrusting in one last time before coming undone inside you, his seed filling you slowly. His flames dimmed by the second, his demonic eyes glowing softly under the faintly lit room.

Norton was happy, genuinely happy, a rare emotion that he had almost forgotten existed. In your embrace, he found a serenity that had always slipped away from him, a peace that wrapped around him like a comforting blanket. Your gentle touch, your soothing voice, and the love in your eyes were all he needed to remind him that he was more than just a monster, more than just a hunter feared by all.

#identity v #identity v fool's gold #idv prospector #identity v norton #idv #idv norton #idv smut #norton campbell #norton x reader #identity v x reader #identity v x you #idv x you

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slowd1ving · 2 months

Note

Hiiiii can u write Kim Dokja x Goth!Male!reader this sponsor constellation is Apollo and The reader is a simp for Dokja ( I love this man )

LOVE LIKE BLOOD ・゜゜KIM DOKJA

“The life is short, and I’m running faster all the time, Strength and beauty destined to decay, So cut the rose in full bloom.” By chance you meet him, by chance you become his friend, by chance you stay by his side; until it cannot be called fickle, capricious chance any longer, but an example of the inevitable law of universal attraction between two starving masses. art by @ 1L9l2Aa8UCL0IGJ (blackbox) on x! also thank you anon this ask was so big brained I yapped on for like 5k words (very sorry if you wanted headcanon/drabble form I got the most profound inspiration for this at like 3am :3) also damn you have no idea how many song titles I was perusing trying to find a suitable one for this... pairing: kim dokja + male goth reader warnings: pretty graphic metaphors, child abandonment/implied parental death, child neglect + abuse, alcohol, smoking, depression + bullying, hurt/comfort, injury, violence (as it's orv), does 10+ year long pining and oddly tense homoeroticism need a warning, anon I hope you ENJOY reading because I enjoyed writing wc: 5.6k (YAP because i love this silly man, I've never written so much for a request before lmao)

ORV MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

Fundamentally, you and him are the same.

There’s a sense of loss that’s too heavy for either of your bodies to comprehend. Rather than a heart, there’s a black hole right where the organ lies; so greedy, so hungry for acknowledgement. Born blue into this world—deprived of oxygen yet wailing, screaming for your voice to be heard—it’s little wonder you’ve always been avaricious for the love your parents could never give. The hands cradling the babe were never loving; they were clinical, they were covered in sterile blue gloves and they smelled only of caustic antiseptic. There was no kiss on your slimy, puckered forehead. There was only the sting of alcoholic sanitiser.

Kim Dokja is similar, yet his parents wouldn’t (rather than couldn’t, for in your embittered mind the two concepts were so different as to be alien) spare him scraps of care. Rather than press a kiss to their son’s awaiting cheek, only bruises blossomed where the love should’ve been. No flowers were given for Children’s Day—only oily blood spilling and macerating against his chubby hands as a last, vibrant gift for their son.

These two black holes sputtered on their axes while they spun round each other: gluttonous, esurient for care that didn’t come with bruises and wailing grief.

Seoul had been unusually cold; blue afternoons spanned across the school rooftops. They were frigid and foggy—perfect for avoiding detection. Thus, the boy without kisses (only contused skin) encountered another like him on the rooftop that day. Against the haze, your own cigarette smoke had dulled the edges of what he saw—a boy canted against the railing with rippling earphones and a head tilted so far back he could taste the polluted mist.

A merger had occurred.

And though neither of you said it, there was an unspoken recognition of each other’s greed in that moment. Your eyes, ghosting over his injuries while the heavy bass played and the prussic wisps trailed around him: deep reverberations sounding a bit too like his careening heartbeat—as he made sure no one had followed him up here, that he was safe. And his umbrous eyes—honed in on the cigarette wedged between your lips, now stained black from the gloss decorating your humourless smile.

Maybe it was just that inherent feeling of kinship that came with avariciousness: a snarling sort of camaraderie that snagged at your skin with its claws. The wounds left behind were tender, but tender was precisely the adjective you were looking for—as was he.

And so, Kim Dokja found himself coming to this particular rooftop the next day. When his breathing came ragged and his vision began to swim, he instinctively sought the numbness the frigid azurine firmament would bring. Like a wounded animal, he sought safety. Flight over fight—a lesson he’d learnt too late. Bruised fists would never save him.

There you sat—eyes closed and lips still glossed in modest black. There were silver rings on your hands; rings he’d seen flashing before his eyes before he was hit, that those people no longer sported. Quietly, he matched up the scrapes on your own knuckles to the ones decorating their faces: to their unusual sullenness today. They’d furtively sequestered themselves in a club room all break, touching their swollen lips and eyes with bruised fists. Bruised fists. Like trophies, the achromatic metal glinted against the cobalt haze, and for once, his heart didn’t skip any beats at the sight of the gleaming metal. Neither did you acknowledge his presence nor their sins, but still, he sat on the same bench you were sprawled upon: hugging his bag to his chest while he scrolled the hallowed pixels of Ways of Survival.

There was no grand exchange of words, no heartfelt conversations between Kim Dokja and the boy with a messed-up uniform.

This was how tentative company was kept for a fragile week.

Tuesday was the day that fragility finally shattered. He still remembers every detail about it—down to the particular cigarette brand you’d purchased that morning, down to the chips in your dark nail polish, down to just how many rings you’d worn on your left hand (three—it was three rings). Tears had spilled down his cheeks that afternoon; they warped and distorted the words that had saved him thus far, evoked from the pain in his purple ribs and his empty stomach. Somehow, the salt he’d kept tightly bound had been coaxed by your cold presence—perhaps, knowing your indifference made it easier to cry pathetically in front of you.

You still didn’t speak, but you did hand him a tissue. You still didn’t speak, but you did press your shoulder to his own trembling one: smelling of caustic smoke, and something rich and sweet lingering beneath the plumes. You still didn’t speak, but your rings clinked on your left hand as you unhooked the earbud in your pierced ear and offered it to him: fingers brushed against his palm as he was forcibly shocked out of crying any further, like a blubbering child faced with such a conundrum that their little brains focused entirely on that rather than the reason for their tears.

Melancholy had streamed out of the device. Doleful chords twined against threnetic voices—which he could not translate nor understand but could feel in pulsing waves.

In that short whorl in the great machine of time, in the chill of the blue hour, he could not help but feel warm.

And thus, that Tuesday changed the trajectory of this merger somewhat. A deafening hum had finally blossomed from the gargantuan event; your presence could no longer be described as distant.

When he went to class the next day, you were in the seat next to him: a mirage brought on by his lack of food, no doubt. He limped to his desk, but there your corporeal form remained: this time with silver chains lining the base of your throat and a dry, sharp grin decorating your face. Sure, he knew there was a student that never showed up in his class, but he wasn’t expecting it to be you: your name now a permanent fixture in his mind.

There was a new name for this phenomenon: friendship.

The boy, with the pensive music and trophies stolen from Dokja’s tormentors, smiled up at the reader staring at him. It was an inviting gesture: the proverbial hand reaching out, the hand which he took.

You weren’t a particularly talkative friend at first: preferring to simply share your music rather than speak much. That was fine with him—it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to reading alone. Then, you started bringing boxes of food alongside your cigarettes: containers that lacked the refinement of store bought meals. One for you, and one sheepishly thrust out to him with a smile bright as burst yolk and as messy as it too. Consequently, he returned a wobbly, unsure smile back at you—not mentioning that the vegetables were slightly burnt, slightly too salty. But that was fine. The more lunches you brought, the more skilled your hands became—until he never felt truly full unless he was eating what you gave him.

In return, he cracked open his soul: pried its rusted walls with bleeding fingernails in a gesture never before seen, not since his childhood when he still knew what hope meant. Dokja for once didn’t blubber apologies and pleas for mercy—but became a teenager rather than a groveller. He complained about teachers, he discussed Ways of Survival at length (noting how you listened even when you showed no particular interest in reading it), he finally developed his own, modest aspirations for his own life. Lying in his bed in his lonely apartament, it suddenly didn’t feel so claustrophobic (yet somehow far too big for one) when you were there with your shoulder just brushing his own.

You were not as cold as you seemed: though this was always obvious from that fateful Tuesday. You made fun of and empathised with the eternal regressor; you diligently stood at his half-broken stove frying meat and vegetables; and you talked at length about whatever band you were currently into—“I’ll take you to one of their concerts when we’re older,” leaving your lips, for your dense black-hole hearts did not conceptualise a future where the other was not present. He saw your loneliness—heard the rumours of you bouncing around from orphanage to orphanage, roaming the streets and working nights rather than return to that boreal home.

So, more nights than not, he woke up from his nightmares to see you sleeping on the small couch in his home—legs just about peeking over the armrest, for your avarice didn’t only cover the abstract but the heaps of food you swiped from the canteen (and over the past two years he’d known you, you got your growth spurt far more obviously than he had). It partly contributed to almost skittish aversion his tormentors had of him—one you never did acknowledge, and so he learnt quickly to not mention it either. In this way, he too never mentioned why he invited you to sleep over more nights than not. And so, neither of your selfish hearts ever spoke a word of pity, but rather conveyed an unspoken understanding that bound the two of you in this merger.

This routine continued.

He enlisted after graduating from the local university, and so did you—suffering the eighteen months of hazing with the smoke lingering on your skin and that same, humourless smile he first saw on your face. Frigid mornings turned his own lips as blue as the sky, yet he found it was harder to feel the chill when he saw you. Just like back then, you wore the same smile that brimmed with such colour it was practically incandescent with its heat.

Two outcasts. It was hilariously terrible. Two outcasts, still sharing a pair of earbuds that had seen better days—blaring out the dolorous music that had grown on him, that described this situation perfectly. Stars were strewn in the fabric enveloped around you: memories that would continue to shine even after the world slowly marched towards its apocalypse.

In that cramped bunkroom, it had been just like school—blue nights with the moon just barely peeking through the window, with your leg still hanging off the side of the bunk and within his field of vision. And he still found the steady rise and fall of your breathing far more comforting than any white noise: like a guard dog, almost, you still shielded him by his proximity to you throughout the brutal eighteen months of mandated service.

Adulthood had crept up unbidden. In his single-room apartment, he sat on his couch with your legs sprawled just as lazy as they had been eight years prior. Though, your appearance certainly had changed—beneath the loose material of your tank top, he could see the ink seeping and decorating your skin. He’d gone with you to the underground artists right after the discharge: worriedly biting his lip while you simply grinned at him as if there wasn’t a needle pressing into you. And despite his initial concern, he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away—sneaking glances even as he browsed through job sites since the winding patterns under the fabric and silver jewellery was oddly entrancing to the eye.

In the end, he applied to the same company you had done on a whim: Minosoft, where you carefully wiped off the black residue on your lips and the smudged pencil round your eyes. You still shared your earbud with him on the subway (though you’d sent him your playlist aeons ago), you still smoked the same brand you did eight years ago, you still occasionally put on those rings you’d kept as prized trophies, you still made two sets of lunches for work. You still listened over drinks while hammered Dokja updated you on the latest update of Ways of Survival. You still angled your body just so, so that you would bear the brunt of Han Myungoh’s scolding rather than him.

You hadn’t changed.

But in some ways, he could no longer see the same boyish guy who’d awkwardly offered him his earbuds nine years ago. The look in your eyes was far more intense, the messy smiles splitting your cheeks were sharper, more overwhelming, and there was no longer any clumsiness in your movements from your sudden growth spurt from years prior. Even the very hand that occasionally clasped his shoulder, even the legs that you still casually flung over his on his beaten old couch, were far more scorching than he remembered.

You had changed.

And in the end, it was him who was left behind.

Eternal loser, Kim Dokja.

Though, he could never find fault with you for that. Not when you leaned over the tangle of limbs on his couch, not when he caught the thread of oud lingering beneath the smoke on your throat, and not when you thrust your phone screen at his face with that stupidly boyish grin that only peeked out when you brimmed with excitement—with a “look, I finally got us tickets for this festival!”. And he knew at that moment that you weren’t leaving him behind: stretching out your rough palm just like you had more than a decade ago.

He let you tousle his hair to give it more spikes. He let you dress him up in your clothes—they sat too large on his frame, but he found himself unconsciously burying his body in the fabric that smelled like your laundry. He let you slip your rings onto his fingers: slender digits jolting at the sensation of the cool metal and the action itself.

Finally, he let you rub your dark pencil on his lashline—lids fluttering up at yours while he did his best to not avert his stare. His gaze traced the bold lines of your brows and eyes, and finally onto the dark stain on your lips as you bit them in concentration. “There,” you’d murmured, gently grasping his chin. “That looks pretty.”

And just like the loser he was, he felt his chest tighten at the casual compliment, for seemingly no reason.

Over the din of the hall, he could barely hear the ebb and flow of music. Goth chords jostled him, weaving past the throes of post-punk and metal as band after band took the stage. In this crush of people, he was more focused on how your index finger threaded through his left-most belt loop; linking the two of you just enough that he wouldn’t get thrown into the mosh pit. No doubt the buzz of cheap liquor contributed to his distracted train of thoughts—he never was the best at handling alcohol. His hazy gaze distorted his view of your side profile; in the dim lights, obviously the wide smile (yolk-like, as was your grin years back) couldn’t possibly be that bright.

It was at this moment that sentimentality got to him. He was thankful that his friend had stuck by his side for so long: gazing so softly at your happy expression he was unaware of his look himself.

This was the night before the apocalypse began.

When the crowds trickled out, when the reverb of bass still played through the club, you hugged him tight for coming with you. Outcast with the outcast, you’d thought introspectively. There were cheap spirits clouding your mind that night—a hangover would surely strike you come morning—which was why you weren’t as reserved as you usually were. As you leaned down to press the man into your arms, your lips had brushed past his cheek accidentally, and you could feel the black hole in the centre of your chest constrict.

Profanities had whirled through your mind when the dark smudge remained on his cheek, and especially so as he made no move to wipe the umbrous gloss off on the subway back. Or maybe he just hadn’t noticed—not with the flush on his cheeks from the alcohol in his system. There was a terrible, discordant crescendo to your pulse as you gazed at him. The gloss, from where it smeared slightly past the boundaries of your lips, burned your skin. But you made no moves to wipe the corners either—for this night only, there was something linking Kim Dokja to you.

Thus, for the first time since he was a mere babe cradled in his mother’s arms, there was a kiss planted on his cheek that wasn’t from a fist. An accidental one, but one that could not be considered devoid of affection. And though neither of you remembered it after the hazy stupor faded, it did not change the fact that it happened nonetheless.

A small snippet of joy in the bleak landscape. A caesura found within the long, winding elegy of this world. A reprieve before tragedy.

It was a fitting conclusion for the night before the end.

✦ . 　⁺

[The free service has now been terminated.]

Back in the carriage, wedged between Yoo Sangah and Kim Dokja, the two of you had shared a glance confirming the unspoken truth. Minds intrinsically linked together—he did not need to speak for you to understand his thoughts immediately. And Yoo Sangah had recognised this—as did she remember the devoted gleam in your eyes whenever you spoke to or of the man seated adjacent to you. Yet ultimately, her lips would remain closed.

When the scenarios began, it was Kim Dokja’s turn to repay you. He would be your shield moving forward—protecting your messy smile even as the world burned away. He vowed this to himself, and though the promise was heard only by him, it did not change the fact that the constellations watching him and his companions could see the oath brimming from him as he put you first.

[Almighty Sun has sponsored you.]

Even when Apollo chose you as his incarnation, even when you were just as capable as you had been before the cataclysm occurred—he could not help but feel his fists clench as you put yourself in danger.

“Hold on,” you’d murmured, rings flashing as you’d caught his wrist in your firm grasp. Even with his coins improving his stats, he still felt so much weaker than you—still the boy who ran to the rooftops while your fists bruised against the faces of those who tormented him.

Had your touch always been so scalding?

Privately, he thought Apollo had chosen the right person—smile bright as the sun, skilled fingers deft enough to play the electric guitar you’d bought on a whim, presence practically a healing balm for his soul.

“You’re injured, Dokja-ya.” And the words had made him shiver as the syllables ghosted over his flesh—your face was too close to his chest where he’d been slashed by a monster, while the affectionate tone added to his name made this situation far worse than it was. Secluded like this, in an abandoned corner of the station, it was easy to misread the situation; this was the only reason his face flushed red. His friend was far too close. When those aforementioned fingertips brushed over the wound—just grazing the wounded flesh—he jolted. From the pain, of course.

[The Demon-like Judge of Fire has sponsored 200 coins.]

[The Demon-like Judge of Fire would like to see more action.]

“Steady.” You eased him against a pillar while ignoring the message—ignoring how your pulse was now leaden in your mouth, how the golden gleam stitching flesh back together seemed far more shaky than usual. Though, you couldn’t ignore the pain you felt as you saw the rise and fall of his torso grow shallow; you were useless when it counted—arrows meeting their target far too late.

“Dokja-ya,” you breathed, sweeping the hair that plastered to his clammy forehead. He didn’t meet your eyes, and the heavy feeling in your chest grew more burdensome. He was supposed to tell you what was wrong; as his best friend, you duly heard his complaints and dealt with them where you could. More often than not, you could intuitively tell what bothered him; much like you had from the very first day you saw him all those years ago. And as time passed, the object of your adoration only grew easier to read.

But he was never avoidant like this.

What happened? As you watched him leave with heavy steps and not a glance spared back, you could feel the crushing weight of the sky drop back down on your shoulders. Fuck. Burying your face in your hands, you barely registered the message that popped up.

[The Demon-like Judge of Fire expresses her sympathy.]

[The Demon-like Judge of Fire says she knows how the two of you can make up.]

[The Demon-like Judge of Fire sponsors 69 coins.]

[The Almighty Sun tells the Demon-like Judge of Fire to not be stingy.]

[The Almighty Sun sponsors 6969 coins.]

[The Almighty Sun empathises with a lover’s quarrel.]

“Shut up,” you seethed, and the bad mood carried on late into the night. It was obvious to anyone with eyes; the conjured lamps lining the perimeter of camp had seethed with you. Gold had been interspersed with bleeding red—crackling like true fire, though it was anything but. Even the tattoos that lined your skin had begun eroding into ember-like patterns, as though lava was breaking through the dermis of your skin.

Unsurprisingly, it was Yoo Sangah that had approached first: past the harsh glow of your lamps, gracefully weaving through the brightness with the light steps that belied her nebula. She’d taken a glance at the incandescent splintering of your body, your hands furiously working away at the guitar plugged into your practically-bulletproof earphones, and finally the imposing frame of Yoo Joonghyuk only a few metres away as he stood guard tonight.

But when you paused, when you hastily yanked the buds from your ears, she could also see the wobble in your lip. The furrow in your brows wasn’t angry, it was anguished, while the fearsome glare in your eyes contained only pain. If she was being honest, it was hard to approach you at work and even nowadays—with ease, you picked off enemies from a distance and your longbow conveniently morphed into two curved daggers when it came down to it. You were a maelstrom with the capacity to take lives—stained with blood as you bared your proverbial teeth at any threats to Dokja. But it was precisely that that allowed her to see your stupidly blind adoration of this man.

(“Your devotion will only hurt you,” she says, as if that will dissuade you. You’ll take whatever feeling he gives you: greedily swallowing each and every morsel of emotion. Tender is your heart, but tender is good. It means you aren’t going mad over the situation you’re in.

“Yoo Sangah, I appreciate the advice,” you reply politely—you do respect her, after all. “But I do not mind that.”)

Yoo Joonghyuk had bemusedly watched as she left: staring the the dim red tattoos strewn across your body as if they could possibly help him decipher the fool in front of him. His Sage’s Eye flashed as golden as your lamps for a brief moment—detecting that your statement had, in fact, been true.

Fool, he’d said as your hands flew over the fretboard once more. Fool, as you disappeared up the stairs to the rooftop. Fool, when your lips had pressed together tightly against one another.

You did mind, even when you thought it was the unequivocal truth that you didn’t.

Maybe it was futile to even think it, but he thought that idiot didn’t deserve the long-standing care in your hands, and the veneration in the timbres of your voice. It was pointless to get attached to someone like that—especially when the end of the world was upon you.

But you wouldn’t know that, since you could not read his mind. But you wouldn’t know that, since he would never explicitly say it. But you wouldn’t know that, since you’d long-since accepted your self-torture as perfectly and utterly a part of what came with knowing Kim Dokja for as long as you did.

The rooftop was like all other rooftops. Similar. The same. Azurine fog was at your fingertips: just like that day all those years ago. Except this time, Kim Dokja was not in your sights, and you were left alone with wisps of smoke trailing from your lips and no other company save the glowing stick in your fingers. Just like it had been; before you met the boy with a heart as greedy and all-consuming as yours. Before the merger between two black holes occurred. Before he ran up to the rooftops with bruises on his face and placed new stars in the endless vacuum of your universe.

There was no charge in your phone, but the song that played that day still rested heavy in your neurons as you sprawled out on the bench. Mindlessly, you summoned the lyre-turned-guitar: doleful chords germinated, flourished and withered away once more under distressed fingertips. It was a night between scenarios; another caesura in this ceaseless tragedy. Though those days were filled with an empty stomach and an endless struggle, they were your halcyon days.

Just like that time almost twelve years back, it was a blue Monday once more.

Just like that time almost twelve years back, you didn’t hear the heavy run of footsteps through the heavy burr of music.

Just like that time almost twelve years back, Kim Dokja’s black hole heart pulsed with each discordant twang of chords—though this time the link was acutely clear to him.

The boy who once tasted the mist and tilted his body into oblivion was no longer there: replaced by a man who’d faithfully stayed by him for more than a decade. Though you hadn’t changed, not at all; not when he could still see the rings you took off his bullies, gracing your fingers just as they had back then. A trophy, dedicated to his protection. When his plans involved his sacrifice, you were the first to reach him. Your face was the first he saw, tears brimming from your lash line. For despite how you’d grown into your looks, you wore your emotions clear on your face. Your heart had been taken from the cavity in your chest and replaced with a dense core that greedily always wanted; yet it had been sewn messily onto your sleeve rather than discarded.

Kim Dokja suddenly remembered another interlude. A club, where the amorphous ebb and flow of bodies could not sweep him away from your side—since you kept him there, treasured his presence enough that you hooked your finger firmly into his belt loop and rooted him there. An anchor: you’ve always been the rock beneath his shaky feet, after all. He remembered that, and not the endless churn of music that made your face glow with happiness.

(A black smear of gloss left on his cheek. His hands, carefully wiping eye pencil away yet not touching the remnants of your lips—not until it smudged away on its own, forgotten for all of time but this day.)

A sun of his own. The reader trod his slow orbit around you long before he could conceptualise the gravity that drew two masses towards each other. Newton’s theory of universal gravitation be damned; you were the only centre of the universe, the only body that ever existed to draw others towards your brilliant light.

His eyes flickered over the smoke in your lips: the dim embers of a glow from the lines in your skin made it seem as though you were alight yourself. Instinctively, physically, he was compelled towards the patterns just like he had been all those years ago: your music, your stupid piercings and your stupid discussions about bands and the stupid way you listened attentively to his yapping about Ways of Survival. Stupid, because why did you do that? Why did you convince him to make a shrine for you in his heart? Stupid, because why is it only now that he can see what exactly lays atop the stone altar?

“Kim Dokja,” you spoke through your plumes, formal in the way he knew you spoke when you were upset and trying to keep it together. He swallowed, and he could feel the same pitter-patter of his pulse as he did all those years ago—heartbeat colliding loudly in his ear drums while he steps towards you, unsure. You didn’t let up with the strum of strings: electric in the drizzle of rain and wind and cold Seoul air.

For once, he was the one looking down at your impassive face. He was the one brushing his fingers through your hair, he was the one whose hands made themselves comfortable on shoulders—for it’s always been you wrapped around him, you whose legs wedge on top of his domestically on his shitty couch in his shitty studio flat.

“It’s Dokja-ya,” he corrected: tongue thick and leaden. It constricted his larynx and made his cadence oh so small at this moment. Tentative. Because he was your close friend and you his. He was the one who knows all your expressions—even the ones you deliberately tried to hide from everyone. He was the one who’s been with you the longest: always staring up at the muscle of your back while you act as his shield. He was the one who’s been blind.

Your fingers halted against the strings and the instrument dissolved into the wind; the concert for two had reached its conclusion, just like it had all those months ago. For despite being packed full of people, the club only ever had two people in it for him.

Lazily, those same hands that have bruised for him—but somehow had a touch that was far more painful than any torment that was physically inflicted on him—wrapped round his own that rested neatly on your shoulders.

“Dokja-ya,” you answered, and the axis the world tilted on is finally righted. This man, Dokja thought—and his umbrous eyes traced down the warm lines of your face, stopping on your lips. Bittersweet.

“Don’t leave me,” he all but begged—voice only a whisper. Don’t die on me, the black hole wanted to say instead; selfishly wishing for you to always be by his side so he doesn’t see you depart this world first. That would end him more than anything else.

“I can’t leave you,” you murmured, and oh, the hand brushing his tear-stained cheek suddenly made more sense. “Dokja-ya, I should be telling you that.”

He pressed his face into your warm palm—scorching even with the boreal damp settling over his skin. There was something twisted within him that revels in your admission: that you, too, feared him abandoning you just as he feared you leaving him behind.

“Idiot.” And he twined his fingers in yours, seeing the surprise on your face bloom—for he’s already established that you’re ever so easy to read. Idiot, because it’s ludicrous to even think that he’d ever willingly walk away from you like that.

“You’re the idiot,” you whispered as your phantasmal hand ghosted from his cheek to his collar, yanking him so he fell onto the firm sprawl of your legs—in a way he’s never felt. So warm, he thought through the haze as he straddled your languid body—fit so right against you that there was none of the tension nor the anticipation that he might’ve felt. His hands splayed out onto your chest, feeling the steady beat of your heart, tracing the glowing lines he adored on your body.

So warm, he thought as your hands gently cupped his face—for you’ve never been anything but soft with this stupid man perched on your lap.

So warm, as your lips met his and he melted into your body. He could taste the acrid smoke on your tongue, but he could also taste the food you’d prepared earlier for him, and the traces of whiskey you’d scavenged. All traces of you; his insatiable heart could not help but want to merge into you.

So warm, as your tongue melded against his and he could feel the seam of his mouth against yours grow ever more ragged and messy. His hands desperately curled into your shirt, and he could feel your palms pressing harshly against his waist and canting his torso into yours more—something which his avaricious heart eagerly swallowed.

On a blue Monday just like this one, two boys met for the first time once more on a rooftop just like this one.

Again. Like and like created a merger for the second time, or perhaps it was already the third. Or fourth. Or the thousand-eight-hundred-and-sixty-third time this has happened—over and over and over and over.

Fate has a funny way of bringing people together, or maybe it’s just the intrinsic law of gravitation that binds two black holes in a binary system.

Blue Monday. What a silly notion, when the man beneath Kim Dokja is as warm as the brilliant sun.

✦ . 　⁺

Fellas is it gay to pine after your best friend for over ten years and have oddly homoerotic moments with them

✦ . 　⁺

EXTRAS

[The Demon-like Judge of Fire returns from her work and asks what she missed.]

[The Almighty Sun keeps his lips shut.]

[The Abyssal Flame Black Dragon stays silent.]

[The Prisoner of the Golden Headband, perhaps not fearing his imminent hair loss, opens his mouth.]

[The Demon-like Judge of Fire promptly goes catatonic and explodes.]

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neetily · 1 month

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hi neet!! I was wondering if u could write like a nsfw/fluff Whitney thingy!! (Idk if I should say Drabble or fic lol 😭) also I’m so glad ur back!!!!!!

— ✧ warnings: "first time" (but not really, you'll see), older whitney, lots of kissing, OOC whitney, premature ejaulation, lots of apologies, creampie, established relationship — ✧ word count: 2,362 — ✧ genre: smut (18+), fluff

— ✧ A/N: thank you so much for waiting patiently for me my sweet anon <3 this is such a nice way to return to writing after my brief unplanned break hehe, so i appreciate the opportunity to be soft about one of my favs!! i really hope you enjoy what i did for this one <3

In the quiet of the afternoon, tangled in a mess of limbs and light-hearted giggles, Whitney—contrary to popular belief— takes his time with you.

The sun kisses his skin tenderly, whispering sweet nothings down his blushing ears that he repeats for you in the form of gentle pecks trailed up your inner thigh, situated between your legs with his chin all sticky with the slick he's just tongue fucked out of you moments before. One orgasm down, he smiles to himself, nipping at your soft, sensitive skin once or twice on his travels just to have you gasping all cute for him like that in response.

"You’re not being fair..." you coo up at him, teeth on display from your wide smile and eyes in the shape of half moons; they match the light marks he's left around your hips, gripping on for dear life as he sucked all that sweet juice out of you. "Please, I can't wait much longer—"

Hush, he whispers down at you, a cheeky smirk tugging at his lips at the way you huff and pout so sweetly back at him, fuck. You're gonna be the death of him one day, he just knows it. Especially given how hard and fast his heart beats for you now in his idle temptation state, impatient little thing. Not that he doesn't understand you, though. His restlessness present in how his fingers twitch to touch you some more, to have his name tumbling out from your open lips so eagerly, lovingly, to remind him of just how pathetically in love he truly is with you.

And how he has so much to apologise for, time to catch up on now that he has you shaking under him. You mean to tell him he could have been making you squirm like this all that time? Trembling from under his barely there touch, knuckles grazing against your knees to gently prompt them into opening further— revealing his throbbing hard cock from between your squishy thighs; oh, he's completely soaked from just a little eating out.

Sorry, his fingers poke and prod against you, one hand securing your thigh in the air, the other gripping tight to the base of his cock, lest he's liable to blow a load right against your cunt right now from how utterly in love he is with you. Sorry, he mouths down at you upon guiding his tip to your hole, knowing well by now how much of a stretch he's about to have you endure, even if your furrowed brows and bitten lip give away exactly just how excited you are to finally be getting what you want. Sorry his eyes communicate when narrowing in an effort to focus, willing himself not to thrust completely inside in one fell swoop because he loves you, instead offering miniscule little humps forward, covering his cock in a coating of your slick to help ease himself in. Determined to show his difference, he finally mutters out a choked little "M'sorry..." and he's not quite sure what for.

Or, rather, there are too many things he's sorry for. Not in the least because he intends to fuck you right for the first time ever tonight, when he should have been treating you as softly as he does now all those years ago.

There's another apology resting at the tip of his tongue too, instead swallowed upon feeling his balls rest heavy against your ass, fully sheathed inside of your warm cunt— when's the last time he fucked you missionary? Has he, ever? Certainly not with as much thought as he does now, dripping with affection in the way he eyes you up and down from above, doting upon you with a shaking sigh, crawled up his chest without much difficulty at all.

"Tell me what you want," He rasps down at you, sure that his internal struggle is written all over his face for you, given how hard he has to tense his muscles in an effort not to pound you into next week like an old habit. "Anything." his tone is more begging than he means it to be, but he doesn't have the heart to correct himself. Not when it's more honest than he'll ever be; he's working on it.

And the way you peer up at him with those big doe eyes— oh, you've got no fucking idea just how difficult it is for him to show even a sliver of restraint around you, no matter how much he wants to just take care of you. Would it be so bad to snap his hips into you like he always does? Rail your shape into the sheets under you, make you piss and moan and sob on his cock like usual?

But of course, hearing your meek little squeak brings him back to reality, cock twitching hard against your tight squishy insides for attention as you avoid his almost pained gaze for a second or two. "I mean... I dunno, you've never really asked me that before..."

Ouch, said with such an awkward tone too. Y'know, it's true what they say... The truth does hurt, a sharp pang in his chest that twists and coils around his heat, squeezing out a hushed sigh from him again before another sorry slips past his tongue. To think he's never so much as asked you for what you even might enjoy is shameful, right?

Well, at least now he can make it up to you. Offer you the opportunity for the first time. Warming his cock inside of your cunt, fit to burst with how well she sucks him off, hole twitching around the base of his cock so well that's it's a little difficult to think properly, however;

"C'mon," He encourages, in part because he thinks he owes you the world, but also because he cannot last much longer either, absentmindedly wagging his cock against your insides with a half lidded gaze. "Fast? Slow? As hard as usual? Gimmie somethin' t'work with, s-" ah, wait a minute— "Babe."

His almost slut slip up seems to cause you to smile at least, and for that he's thankful, given that his muscles ache with the anxiety he's frozen with. And when you mumble a brief "... Slow, if that's okay?" he can't help but to mimic your joy.

"Sure, I can do that." He assures you, whatever princess wants, princess gets, right? At least, that's how he'd like to treat you from now on, moving forward with you as his equal, as opposed to under him. Wouldn't that be nice? And he intends to start right here, with you on the bed, looking as pretty as ever; except somehow he feels like he's looking at you for the first time again. Giddy excitement coaxing him into movement, dragging his hips back slowly as per your request, making you feel every veiny inch of his cock— but you can really feel it now, right? Your lips parted to let out the softest little sighs, his tongue poking against his cheek in concentration as he leans into the feeling of your walls trying desperately to keep him inside— a new feeling, and one he promptly decides he just adores. Making you feel his stretch all the way until it's just his tip left inside, waiting an extra second or two until you start to squirm around him for more, and then he's pushing back in just as slowly, excruciatingly so, even for him.

But it's nice, too, being able to see how intricately your expression changes as he fucks you full of cock. His own expression softening the more he pumps into you, settling into a nice and deep pace, a lazy fuck in and out that allows him to truly appreciate just how pretty you are when you're getting stuffed full, cooing down at you in an uncharacteristic display of softness when you reach out for him with grabby hands.

"C'mere—" he laughs breathlessly at you, dipping his neck down enough so that you can wrap you arms around him, allowing himself to lean over you with a little shuffle, completely encasing you under him with his cock stretching you out steadily, carefully offering you easy thrusts, the mundanity of it all causing him to swoon at how cutely you're acting. As if you've never been fucked before now— which he supposes is true, at least by him. "Feelin' good?" He asks, heaving out a fond moan at the way your cunt squeezes so snugly around him, getting off to his voice, are you? The unique hoarseness of it, borne out of how nice and tight you are; how he's never fucked you so purposefully before, and how he's never felt so good in his life.

And the little nod up at him paired with a muted uh-huh you let out just gets to him. Like you're so taken aback by such ordinary, vanilla fucking that it does a full circle back to kinky. Triggering something deep in his tummy, filling his throat with butterflies, prompting an inexplicable urge to spill out from his lips as he presses them against your own, catching himself off guard when he feels just how needy you are when returning his affections immediately. Opening up for him, letting his tongue roll against your own before closing the kiss almost as soon as it started.

Fuck, he's so fucking hard for you it almost hurts, cock aching inside of your too tight little cunt, teeth gritting with his jaw tense; he needs you so bad, even when buried balls deep in you, like he can't get enough of you.

One kiss would never be enough.

He shakes his head, removing as much hair out of his face to get a better view of just how ruined you already look, "S'this all it takes, huh?" He teases you, but the stupid smile he wears with his taunt is quickly wiped off his face, replaced with an opened mouthed moan at the way you wrap your arms around him some more, cunt squirming around his fat cock as he keeps that same steady pace of rocking you up and down the bed so slowly— he just has to fall into you, if only to shut you up before you can reprimand his cocky remarks.

He makes them with love, though. Mumbling affections against your tongue, hummed and dripped with saliva down your throat, making out with you as slowly as he fucks you, all heat and passion and God, he's fucking yours. In spite of appearances, and the past, he's yours. Completely and utterly smitten with the little whines and whimpers his lips suck from your tongue, pinching at one of your nipples extra softly to match his slow tempo, tip leaking copiously inside your cunt, some of dripping out and down your ass with his squelchy thrusts; so wet and gushy for him, fuck. He just wants to impress you, make you feel as loved as you deserve, kissing you as sensually as his thrusts beg him to, as your nails digging into his shoulders implore him to. Anything for you.

His hands grope at your tits for a while longer during steady smacks of lips, but he gets antsy with the way you allow him to explore your mouth without complain, how every moan he swallows from you has his body heating up more and more, like an actual virgin, instead of the well-seasoned fucker he knows he is. But, in truth, this is the first time he's taken his time with... Well, anyone, really. A bubble of emotions leaving him gasping for air, regrettably breaking the kiss as a pitchy whine of his name rings in his ears and he's treated to the sight of your scrunched up features pleading for more and fuck fuck fuck— he can't fucking stand to see you so utterly enthralled, wholly ruined by his slow thrusts, a tiny burst of speed knocking the wind out of you and him as old habits kick in and—

"S-sorry—" escapes him again, gritted out uncomfortably, forehead pressed against your own as he spills hot seed inside of your pretty little pussy, huffing and heaving gritty moans just inches away from your lips, eyes squeezed tightly shut at the stupidly good feeling washing over him; better than ever before, so fucking annoying.

That, and he thinks that if he died right now, that'd be the only thing to save him from the amount of embarrassment he's currently experiencing.

Not one for cumming accidentally, Whitney, who prides himself on getting you to cum at least a couple of times before he gives himself a chance, is currently shooting rope after rope inside of your messy cunt, painting it all sticky white with his love in spite of the fact that he hasn't even made you cream his cock by now.

It just felt that good. You, felt too good. Taking him so well, so pliant in his attempt to show devotion, letting him fuck the shape of himself against your insides without any complaint— not even a peep of sobbing.

He curses to himself a couple more times, stalling to gather enough courage to face you with a pout. "Sorry, sorry... Lemme jus'—" He babbles, motioning that he'd like to exit in an effort to do his due diligence as your partner and make you feel as good as you've made him feel tonight, even if you did nothing but lay there, God... He's so down bad it's stupid.

But you halt him, stop him in his tracks with a tight squeeze around his neck, effectively pinning him against you, tits squished under his heaving chest as he tries to catch his breath after the best orgasm of his life, and— and you scatter kisses across the top of his head.

"It's okay," You hush him, voice a little crackly from his fuck, he assumes. But it's music to his ears, an immediate balm to his anxious thoughts. "Wanna just lay here for a bit, please."

And he'd be a fool not to comply, right?

#i feel like this is similar to smth i wrote before but #fuck it i like the idea ok #dol smut #degrees of lewdity smut #dol #degrees of lewdity #whitney the bully smut #whitney the bully #whitney🚬

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sadesluvr · 9 months

Note

Hi!

Idk if ur doing requests and if not just ignore this however if u r I have an idea for Lillard! William Afton.

Choking perhaps? It's fine if ur uncomfortable with that and u don't wanna do it I'd completely understand.

If u don't want to just ignore this.

Hope u have a great day!

A/N: Hi Anon, thank you for being so respectful of my boundaries regarding what I write!! <3 Even though I’ve never written about it before, I’m fine with it - This is my first time so I’m not sure how good it is :)

WARNING: This is a drabble all about choking. Bondage/BDSM elements are mentioned also. 18+ only, and read at your own discretion.

To say that William Afton had an asphyxiation kink was an understatement. He’d always prided himself on his hands; they’d created, destroyed…Even put back together again. Each unique callous told a story, a story of how he’d risen to ‘power’ and slowly, but surely drowned in his own narcissism, quite literally making himself untouchable. Like any man, he liked power, and his hands were just one way of maintaining that.

The second method was through his cables. You didn’t really know what they were - likely ones that helped jumpstart the electricity in the pizzeria, or to start the engine of his car - but he just so happened to carry them ‘everywhere’. When he was feeling particularly frisky he used them to tie you down; whether that was to the medical table at the pizzeria, or to the headboard at his house, but there had been a couple of times where he’d inadvertently secured it around your neck; the heavy material weighing on your windpipe as he fucked you. Even though that’d turned him on, nothing ever beat his hands.

Sometimes you forgot how strong he was.

It had all just started with a simple kiss - You were hunched over your desk and he’d come in, large hands running across your shoulders before he angled your neck up towards him, lips meeting yours. His grip was not yet crushing, but secure, just enough for you to remember who you belonged to.

Breathless, you parted your lips to allow his tongue to explore your mouth. He loomed over you, weight slowly coming down upon your body as his knees buckled and grip tightened on the base of your neck, pinching the skin between his thumb and index finger, humming at your tiny whimpers.

He was in one of ‘those’ moods.

Momentarily, he pulled away. There was a dark gleam in his usually bright eyes that told you everything, brows furrowed slightly in a sneer. He needn’t say much - if anything - and you instinctively pulled down your pants, your heart pounding in your chest as the clothes jumbled around your thighs and ankles in your panicked haste. He smirked, unbuttoning his pants and pulling down his zipper at the sight of you being so obedient; all for him. He’d trained you so well.

In a swift motion you were up against the wall, your heaving chest pressed against his own, feeling the stark contrast between his hard cock on your thighs and the soft skin of his stomach. William - or Steve, as you’d initially known him - was a weird mixture of ‘soft’ and ‘hard’, his emotions and personality seemingly changing on a dime. As regretfully as it was, you happened to enjoy his harder, rougher parts and edges much more.

As he used one hand to line himself up at his entrance, he used the other to cup your cheek, absorbing your features in the dim lighting of the room. He chuckled at your laboured breaths as he dragged his hand down your skin, thumb brushing over your lips as he felt your hot breath on his fingertips, breath that would soon become uncontrolled and desperate - loud and wanting. He wanted to fucking destroy you.

“You drive me fucking crazy, you know that? Do you know how dangerous that is for a guy like me?”

Your eyes widened, and you managed to whisper a breathy ‘Yes’, your mouth dry from the anticipation. He thrust into you, and the stretching, yet fulfilling sensation was cancelled out by the feeling of his hands gripping your cheeks, smooshing your lips together. Slowly, this grip moved down your jaw, holding it in place as he watched your eyes switch between widening and fluttering half shut like the desperate whore you were. He snarled as he moved down to your neck, practically holding you in place against the wall as his hips collided against your own. The way he looked at you was one almost of disgust; perhaps pity, even, and it only aroused the two of you further. William was a bad man. A very bad man. He could kill you.

Then why did you moan?

His grasp on your neck was unrelenting, the large spread of his hands meaning that he was simultaneously pressing on your larynx and trachea, causing a painfully delightful winding sensation. It felt like you were being dropped from the stratosphere, except the happiness from the feeling of flight was instead from the overstimulation of the room around you - from the sound of William’s rugged grunts to the fluid, pulsing motions of his cock inside your hole, seemingly finding the deepest crevices.

“Good girl,” he whispered. “You’re getting so much better at this…”

You smiled as he choked you, clutching onto his hand that was around your neck as your way of showing appreciation. You felt your hyoid bone press flat against his palm, and your head began to loll against the wall, chin pointed in the air in pleasure. The squeezing sensation was now beginning to take over your torso; a tingling feeling spreading from across your cheeks, to your ears and up to your eyes, tears of ecstasy pooling in your ducts. The feeling even reached your stomach; jostling and tumbling with the signal of your impending orgasm.

“Let go…” William cooed in your ear, lips attacking the nape of your neck as he rutted into you. This was the moment he always loved, the time you were in a state of limbo from the present and your dreams, black and —

White.

You saw white.

William chuckled as you came around his cock, merciful enough to let his clutch on your neck go, allowing you to catch your breath as he continued to pleasure you - but more to finish himself off - revelling in the sight of your parted, wanting lips. With all the inventions that mankind, and even he himself could have developed, his hand was his favourite instrument.

You rode off from your high, and even through your sexed haze and heavy eyelids you could make out the man in front of you. Breathless, sweaty, and most importantly, smiling.

He was smiling.

William loved the feeling of power, and you were one of the few people who could give it to him so perfectly.

#obligatory gif/pic of THAT scene #my asks #florence writes!!#anon ask #request fill #william afton x reader smut #william afton x reader #william afton smut #steve raglan x reader #steve raglan smut #fnaf smut #tw choking

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twilghtkoo · 1 year

Note

HI!!!! TOTALLY LOVE YOUR WORKS!!! but I wonder if I can request a haechan drabble where his s/o putted a lot of lipbalm on her lips and haechan said it'll go to waste so he'll kiss her and say he's sharing it with her. HSJSHSJSBSJSNSJNS

pairings. haechan x streamer!reader (f)

genre. fluff, established relationship

warnings. shy haechan?? small make out sesh, mentions of zelda again bc i love zelda

notes. THIS REQUEST IS SO CUTE??? thank u anon for requesting this ! i hope you enjoy this just as much as i did writing this one :D

haechan masterlist | main masterlist

“i blocked and muted anything related to zelda because i do not want spoilers!” you exclaim into your mic, mindlessly scrolling through your playlist on spotify to play another song.

user same i blocked and muted everything bc my game doesn’t get here til the twentieth

user same

user i like playing new games going in blind it’s exciting

“me too, i love it. even though the trailers and concept art drops give away a bit but not too much.” you agree to the last comment you read.

user how are you

user hiiii yn

user how long have u been streaming

user is haechan home?

“i’ve been streaming for two hours and thirty-eight minutes,” you answer. “and haechan is almost home actually!”

“oh let me show you guys my new wallpaper.” you excitedly say, minimizing your current windows, displaying your wallpaper to the viewers.

it’s just a screen capture of a scenery from one of your favorite game franchises, the legend of zelda twilight princess. an official illustration that shows link on his horse, epona, with the master sword in his hand, looking handsome as ever in his green tunic. princess zelda and the twilight princess in the background and wolf link in front. the colors are so pretty and you’re very proud of it.

user oh my god that’s so cool

user tp yessss

user who is that fine man

user that is fire

“that fine man is link–“

knock knock.

“who?” speaking of the devil. your favorite person walks in, staring at you quizzically with his work bag hanging off his shoulder. he looks absolutely ravenous and you want to thank his parents once again for giving birth to this man.

“hi babe!” you chirp, straightening your posture as you weakly hold out your arms in the air, waiting for him to walk into your embrace.

he cradled your head against his tummy, being careful of your headset. his hands move down to the area just below your ears, pulling you in for a kiss but you slyly dodge him. haechan rarely kisses you while you are streaming, he doesn’t like showing that in front of thousands of people. but he can get affectionate and touchy sometimes, so he’ll pull you towards him with his back facing the camera and blocking both of your lips.

“haechan’s home guys,” like it wasn’t that obvious…

you grab your tube of lip balm that was across your desk, quickly and evenly applying some to your lips. when you rub your lips together, it feels a bit thick but you try to ignore it.

he hums, “that’ll just go to waste, let me get some.” he cups your face again, pushing your chair with his knees to make room for him to stand in front of you. you instinctively place your hands on his waist from the sudden movements. he bends down, his face inching closer towards yours and it’s like your brain goes haywire because your lips quickly connects with his before you attempt to shove him away.

you know where this is going.

he lets out a whine, “kiss me.”

you giggle, your head is still in his hands. you try to look at your monitor, already forgetting you had a live audience. haechan noticed your concerns, he turns his body slightly to tap your mic, turning it off so viewers can’t hear anything.

“now kiss me.” he says impatiently, the corner of his lips curving upward in a smirk.

you roll your eyes before your eyes flutter close and you let him indulge. he takes his time kissing you, long and slow yet hard, and he’s smiling into the kiss.

“ok enough stingy,” you managed to say in between kisses.

you can feel your lip balm being smeared all over your lips and around, all sticky and uncomfortable.

he chuckles, he bite on your bottom lip gently pulling on the flesh as he pulls away slowly before resting his forehead onto yours. a familiar action that makes your thighs clench together.

“you’re calling me stingy when you weren’t gonna share,” he points back, ruffling your hair before he turns your mic back on.

you look at him once more. “aigoo, look at you!”

you grab his wrist before he manages to walk away, pulling him down so he can show his face. his lips are glistening from your make out session and his cheeks are all red.

he gasps when he sees his reflection, immediately straightening up so he’s out of frame.

user theyre so disgustingly cute

user i feel like we’re interrupting something even tho we were here first

user GET A ROOM

user in front of my sandwich too?

you cackle at his reaction, too distracted by him to be reading the comments. tapping the mic once again with your hand.

“look who’s shy when you were begging to kiss me in front of twelve thousand people.” you jokingly tease.

“yah! is it a crime to kiss my girlfriend?”

#yeow6n #haechan fluff #lee donghyuck #nct fluff #haechan drabbles #haechan #haechan imagines #nct dream #haechan x reader

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lightlycareless · 8 months

Note

okay i have a headcanon but what if y/n has this like very new lip balm that has like a really good fragrance and taste to it and naoya is like "what did u put on ur lips" when they kissed

then goes on and buy like 20 of them so she would never run out of it 🏃‍♀️

and naoya gets comments abt how his lips look fuller and hydrated but its just the result of them kissing nonstop because of the lip balm-

Hello anon!!!!!

Now THIS is something I had lots of fun writing hhahahahahahahahahahahahahhaahha specially after that dream I got with the lipstick... everything is alingning....

I genuinely believe Naoya would obsess over something like this—like, he's intoxicated in your scent, now add something sweet/tasty? He's an addict :)

Anyways, I won't say much hehe I hope you enjoy the little drabble I wrote:

warnings: tiniest mentions/implications of nsfw (smut, you know, the deed) and making out. But outside of that, nothing.

Happy reading!

Naoya would first notice something glossy over your lips when meeting up with you for breakfast.

He doesn’t think much of it, except that it looks good, and that it made your lips look even more kissable.

Which obviously, he doesn’t hold back from doing whenever possible, he literally must kiss you once every 5 minutes or he’ll die.

When Naoya eventually kisses you goodbye, off to some other boring mission he needs to do, it’s when he spots the slightest difference from your always welcoming warm and soft lips.

Now, don’t get me wrong, those things were still there much to his heart’s delight, however, a new lingering sweetness would have him dumbfounded for a moment, carefully analyzing this discovery as he licks it up, wondering…

“Did you eat strawberries right now?” You’re no stranger to eating anything sweet that crosses your sight; but that would not be the case—In fact, you’re glad that he noticed, a bright grin quickly forming on your lips as you respond.

“Nope! It’s my new lip balm.” You explain, he raises an eyebrow.

“Lip balm?” Naoya repeats slowly.

“Well actually, a lip balm and an exfoliator! I found them the other day at the mall, that time I went with my staff, remember?” He nods “I was surprised that things like these existed for lips! So, I decided to give it a chance, and I gotta say, my lips definitely feel softer—look!”

You purse your lips into a pout which Naoya doesn’t hesitate to touch with his own lips, pecking them with a gentle kiss—rightfully amused when discovering that you were telling the truth.

“So? What do you think?” you smile, but Naoya doesn’t say anything, opting to give you a kiss instead… and another, and another, as if trying to convince himself he wasn’t making things up.

And you happily obliged initially, taking in all his gestures and returning them too, until you suddenly remembered he was supposed to be on his way to work, unless he wanted to be late!—and all because you wanted to show off your new lip balm, which he also effectively removed by now thanks to his kisses!

“Naoya!” You whine, and your tone was all he needed to understand what you were referring to.

“Just wanted to be sure of the flavor” Naoya smirks. “Didn’t catch it the first time.”

“But you guessed right the first time!!” you cry back, and he gives out a light chuckle before kissing you once more. You pout. “…well, at least one of us is getting their lips hydrated…”

“Don’t be angry, my love, I’ll buy you all the lip balms that you want if that’s the issue.” Naoya promises, pecking your lips one last time before departing off to his next mission.

Even when he had the means to do so (as well as past experiences), you wholeheartedly didn’t expect Naoya to keep his word regarding your lip balms; and you didn’t really care much for it either since you were still trying out this new thing—however, as always, you seemed to have underestimated your husband’s dedication and his fixations, for he quickly became an avid fan of your flavored balms, first seen on the new stick or scrub that would “mysteriously” appear on your vanity just before the other one ended…

Or by the way he’d grab your lips hostage with his, demonstrating both his well-known adoration for you, and newfound curiosity for the new flavor of the moment that lingered on them.

“Na—Naoya…” you’d whimper, or attempt to through his incessant kissing, lips already numb at that point, as he cages you with his arms, keeping you underneath him and against the futon. “St—Stop…”

“What? I’m just trying to see if your new balm is working…” he murmurs, with eyelids halfway open and undeniably drunk in your scent and taste, desire is the only present feeling in his actions. “What is it… cherry?”

“I… I don’t know…” you blushed—but even when complaining about the breathless, heated situation he was putting you through, your lips still searched for his.

“I think so… but it doesn’t matter, we still have lots of flavors to go through…” he purrs before leaning down and closing the gap between the two with another kiss, tongue pushing past your lips and onto your mouth, diving deeper into the intoxicating combination of your flavor alongside the lip balm of the day, the newest sensation he didn’t know he needed until finally trying it.

“What will my little mochi taste like today?” Naoya teases you from over the futon as you apply lip balm onto your lips, just as you diligently did every morning.

Ever since your lips became softer thanks to your new routine, he proclaims you are now living up to that nickname, being the only one he calls you nowadays.

Not that you minded, it was certainly amongst the sweeter of his selection, nonetheless it still flustered you.

“It’s a secret.” You respond. By now Naoya has gotten you a thousand flavors, ones you weren’t even aware they could be used as balms—but given his craving to try them all out (from you), you determined to put on a different one every day just to keep him on his toes.

“Can I at least have a sneak peek?” he smirks. You giggle, shaking your head.

“Nope! Until I come back maybe.” Naoya scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I won’t be away for long, my love, just gotta pick up some things from the store. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Don’t know why you don’t ask the servants to do it…” he says. “We could be spending the morning in bed instead.”

“Because I like to go out once in a while.” You respond. “Besides, this is one of your days off, I want you to rest.”

“Why? Think I won’t be able to with you around?”

You give him a look that asks him if he’s being serious right now.

“Alright, you have a point there, mochi. Just don’t take long.”

After finishing putting on your lip balm and fixing the last details of your makeup, you begin to make way towards him, intending to bid your farewells by kissing his cheek…

Before he outsmarts you by swiftly grabbing you by the arm, pulling you down to him, careful so as to not hurt you, but sternly enough to hold you against him, wrapping his arms around you as he looks down to you, a smirk on his face.

“Naoya!” you whine, attempting to free himself from his grasp, he chuckles. “I gotta go! My staff is waiting for me!”

“Give me a kiss.” Your husband orders. “Or I won’t let you go.”

Did you really think you’d be able to hold him off from trying today’s flavor?

Luckily for him, you love him so much that you easily indulge him without much insistence, giving him a quick, soft kiss at first… until Naoya’s greediness pushes him a step further, converting your soft gestures into a more heated endeavor, his tongue quickly savoring your mouth and your balm of choice—honey, coincidentally his favorite—by gently sucking and biting on your lips, enjoying the treat his wife willingly prepared for him, until the two eventually become breathless, only pulling away when they physically couldn’t continue together.

“You’re going to ruin my make up…” You’re the first to speak, moving your face to the side in efforts to stop him from ravaging you again—how you hated being the voice of reason.

“Alright, alright…” he breathes, kissing your cheek instead. “I guess I can wait for later tonight.”

“You’re insatiable…” you hypocritically murmur, giving him one last kiss before pushing yourself up from the futon, patting away any creases on your dress, turning around to the door soon after…

Only to sharply tense up when Naoya’s hand harshly lands on your ass, a smack that resonated inside the room, making your cheeks even hotter as you quickly aim to confront him.

“Naoya!”

But he only responds to your scolding with a laugh, ignoring your flustered reaction as he goes back onto the futon, attempting to make the best of his day off by resting, until you come back of course.

Because even if he had other things to tend to, it didn’t mean you were free of his clutches.

Naoya was known to be very diligent when it came to his appearance: well-kept and clean were some of the words most associated with him. And depending on who you asked, unconventional too.

But even then, there was no denying that he looked good, liked looking good, and was not afraid to do what he wanted to continue being perceived like that.

However, even when knowledgeable of this aspect of his… something did not match one day.

It was like he had done something to his appearance, different from the norm, yet no one managed to pinpoint what it was. Eventually spurting rumors about it, whispers, all from people trying to figure out what was odd from Naoya-sama’s face, without having to ask him directly…

Until a member of his personal staff was able to notice it. And when he did, he couldn’t believe it, perhaps didn’t want to, never thinking Naoya would be that kind of person, even with his vanity.

But alas, curiosity took ahold of the poor man, and with all embarrassment and courage in the world, decides to ask him.

“Naoya-sama, pardon my intrusion, but I must know.”

Naoya doesn’t respond, never does, really. He doesn’t like interacting with those below him, after all…

The man takes it as his cue to continue.

“Um… well, I… wished to know if you… put something…. On… Your… lips?” the man squeaks out the last part, anyone else would’ve thought he didn’t say anything eligible.

But for an irritated Naoya, with senses heightened thanks to that same frustration, it was nothing but clear.

“What?” he asks, with a tone that immediately makes his servant tense up.

“No, I mean—They look good!” He rushes to explain, thinking his question had been misinterpreted into something negative. “Hydrated… and all that. They seem healthy!”

“Don’t you have anything better to do than stare at my lips?” Naoya frowns, the room seems to start spinning around the man.

“No! I mean—yes, I do!” He cries, wishing nothing but the earth to open and swallow him whole, alongside his shame, humiliation, and blatant stupidity for having thought bringing up this topic was a smart career move! What was he even thinking? Oh, now he’s going to get fired! “I’m—I’m sorry.”

“Get out of my sight.” Is all that your husband says, not that he needed to do much after that; he didn’t even get a chance to threaten him before the man was already out of the room and far away, freeing Naoya of his senseless idiocies and allowing him to continue enjoying his meal in peace.

Yet, even when the interaction between the two was nothing less than undesirable, Naoya couldn’t stop himself from chuckling, finding his observation to be particularly accurate, hoping that you’d come back soon to continue his “treatment” and wondering where else it could also work…

bigasspervert... lol also I think Naoya might've thought his staff member had the hots for him, omg 😂 I mean what else could he think from that???? hhahahahahah

Anyways, I want to write that lipstick story. Imma do it. :) Hopefully soon, after everything else...

Thank you so much for sending in this ask! It was a joy to write for sure ❤️❤️❤️take care and hope to see you soon. ❤️

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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starhvney · 6 months

Note

my first time w this but can I rq zenix x short fem reader? one shot or hc or anything atp i can survive off crumbs alone

(mystreet and maybe they have a playful banter dynamic? (dying i am so shy)(if no then thats okay u can delet this :3))

𝐏𝐈𝐏𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐀𝐊

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: zenix x short!fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: he won’t let you exist without giving you the daily reminder that you’re short

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: fluff, slice of life, zenix and reader playfully argue and banter, zenix doesn't know how to admit his feelings ever

𝐂𝐖: none?

𝐀/𝐍: yes, i can! this is so cute, anon! i went ahead and added headcanons and a small drabble to this. it’s not super long, but i hope i was able to write what you wanted. you’re my first request so thank you, i hope you enjoy! (i might make a one shot going more in depth on this dynamic but i wanted to get this out asap for you :))

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

☆ it doesn’t matter what age you two met, he’s always going to tease you for your height

☆ in high school, before he could ever admit his feelings for you (because that would be so lame and not hardcore), he would use teasing as a way to talk and flirt with you while still keeping his composure and pride.

it was so close, yet so far out of reach. you strained your calves as your fingers barely brushed the top shelf.

“c’mon!” you quietly groan to yourself, hopping and once again missing the book above you.

a quiet snort can be heard from behind you, causing you to narrow your eyes and turn to the noise. zenix leans on the bookshelf, his hand covering his nose and mouth as looks up through dark lashes at you with a poorly concealed grin. his eyes crinkled and lifted up, and the tenseness in his shoulders gave away that he was really trying not to laugh.

“what? aren’t you gonna help me?” you accuse, pointing a finger in his direction.

he drops his hand, the amused smirk on his lips annoyingly prominent as he crosses his arms and lifts his chin up, another annoying laugh leaving his lips.

“no, i think i’ll just watch from here.”

your eyebrows pinch together and your nose scrunches up in annoyance. with narrowed eyes you look him up and down. what was he even doing in the library?

“whatever, you probably can’t read the title anyways.”

“…what?!” his voice raised in confusion. his little smirk is gone as his jaw drops and his eyebrows furrow.

“besides, i may be short, but that doesn’t make you tall. you’re probably also too short to reach this book.” you continue to taunt, satisfied at the annoyed red hue growing on his cheeks.

“WHAT?!” he exclaims, this time much too loud for the library.

“you two, out of my library now! you’re being way too loud. you’re old enough to know basic manners in a library.” the librarian appears from the end of the aisle, an annoyed look on her tense face as one hand rests sternly on her hip and the other points at the door.

“but, i wasn’t-“

“now!”

you two silently walk out of the library doors, before you turn to zenix with narrowed eyes.

“that’s your fault.”

“huh? no it’s not, you started it!”

“no, you did!”

“no-“ he cuts himself off with an annoyed groan, shoving something in your face rather abruptly.

grabbing on to it, you move it away to see what it was. it was the book you were trying to reach. you look back up at him with a raised eyebrow.

“what?! you said i couldn’t reach it, but i could, easily!”

“but it’s still not checked out, so you stole it.”

“borrowed without asking.”

“well, you still did what i asked you. for someone so much taller and cooler than me you’re pretty gullible, huh?”

his face turns red again, mouth stuttering open before snapping back shut. he narrows his eyes at you before quickly snatching the book up and taking off down the hallway.

“hey! zenix, what the hell!” you take off after him.

“see if your short legs can keep up!”

he landed you two in more trouble soon after for running and yelling in the halls.

☆ sometimes he’d slip up, showing how he really felt about you… in his own, zenix way.

“your hands are tiny.” he suddenly notes. burnt, red-brown eyes narrow down at your hands.

“huh?” you stretch your hand out in the air.

zenix’s larger, warmer hand meets yours, palm to palm as he compares the difference. it’s enough for the tips of his fingers to curl a bit over yours, you glance back at him with raised eyebrows. his messy brown hair hangs in his face, but doesn’t hide his softened expression as he concentrated on your hands touching.

he makes eye contact with you, cheeks bursting into flames as he fumbles for an excuse.

“it must be because you’re so short.” he blurts out.

“feeling bold today, zenix?” gene’s voice startles the both of you, your hands both shooting back down to your laps.

“what- i don’t know what you’re talking about!”

☆ as you two get older, it eventually evolves into much more playful banter, and everybody is used to this just being your dynamic.

☆ you don’t get as irritated about it, but zenix still loves making use out of your height difference.

you two stand in line in the coffee shop, eyes squinting as you read the menu, when you feel the weight of zenix’s arm on top of your head. rolling your eyes, you glance up at zenix with a half-assed glare as he leans on you.

“really?”

he barely spares you a glance from the menu, raising an eyebrow as if he was confused what your problem was.

“what?”

you roll your eyes before looking back up at the menu.

"you're not even that tall."

"i'm taller than you, pipsqueak."

a huff leaves your lips. you stiffen your hand straight, before ramming it quickly into his side. he grunts as he hunches over, his arm leaving your head to clutch his side. he finally shoots a half-assed glare back to you, before moving his arm back up to rest on your shoulder instead. this time you don't complain.

“what are you getting?”

“…caramel macchiato.”

“…yeah, same.”

#aphmau #aphmau mystreet #mystreet #mystreet x reader #x reader #zenix x reader #aphmau zenix #mystreet zenix #zenix

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pascals-doll · 6 months

Text

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alicehattera03 · 2 months

Note

Hello there! Love all the headcanons and drabbles you write for Callisto x Penelope. Would you be willing to write more for them where they’re devoted to each other but just being super unhinged about it? The yandere Penelope headcanons have me in a mood and I am starved for some good Yandere x Yandere content. Please and thank you!! 🙏

Ooooh Anon thank you for loving my content for them!! Love me some yanderes ehehe hope u enjoy!! ^^

Callisto was sneakily eyeing Penelope as she stood near the pillar speaking with another lady of her age. She leaves her glass and gives him a small nod before she leaves with the lady, off to a small group of older women.

Callisto strides over, taking the wine glass in his hand and made eye-contact with the man who had plucked up the courage to talk with his Penelope earlier- just so he could place his mouth onto the imprint of her lips she had left behind on the glass in dark red lipstick.

When he sips the last of the wine, he looks up again, and everyone could see the smear of red upon his mouth. The way his eyes are widened and crazed under the gleam of chandelier lights. How tense his shoulders were, straining against the fabric of his uniform. They could see how he ached to strangle the man that turned and ran out the doors with his tail between his legs.

Callisto's anger was muted because he could still taste her on his lips, pressing them together to get a hint of the wine her tongue had touched.

Penelope watches this unfold before her, her fan fluttering gently as it covers her mouth but lets her eyes show to the masses. It hides her ever-growing smile as she grips her silken dress with whitened knuckles, waiting breathlessly for something to come.

She had reminded him oh so nicely earlier in the night, when they both snuck away to the balcony before getting caught by one of the lower nobles who had blushed a fiery red at the steamy sight in front of him.

Callisto had hated that someone had seen her in such a vulnerable state, but at the same time, loved that he could show her off as his- and Penelope was the same.

So she gave him a beautiful reminder for him and for all those who wanted to have a chance to spend the night with the deadly yet handsome crown prince of the empire.

Callisto turns his head ever so slightly, and there, at his neck, where he had loosened his tie just a bit due to the heat coming off the glaring lights above, were teethmarks.

The people nearest to Callisto could see it, like an engraving on an expensive pen or a family heirloom rifle. A possession so dear to the person that they would put their name on their beloved item to show everyone that it was theirs and theirs alone.

So much for the title of crown prince of the empire and soon to be emperor- he would gladly bend the knee to his fiancée, Penelope Eckhart, who had now shown high society that she had him under her thumb, and he too, was willing to play by her rules.

But she was just as accepting of him, if the way she stood a little awkwardly said anything. And nothing to say of the feeling of something sliding down her inner thighs, her smile quivering as she dared to hope she wasn't leaving a trail behind her every time she walked away.

#penelope eckart #vadd #villains are destined to die #vadtd #callisto regulus #callisto x penelope

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skzoologist · 10 months

Note

HI HI HIIII! IS YOUR REQUEST STILL OPEN? (checked your profile but I had to ask again because what if u forgot to close it? 😭) ANYWWWWAY

Can I ask the reaction (crack or fluff just skz being proud of our bby bae) of skz to Bae dancing EXO's 'The Eve' or 'Artificial Love'?

TENCHUUU (づ￣ ³￣)づ

word count: ~1.2k

warnings: sensual dance (for the shy ones like me)

genre: crack

a/n: Hey-ho anon, don't you worry! I basically live on this hellsite, I'm here everyday, updating my blog. Now, onto your request. The way I just watched the videos so I knew what to write about like this: 😳🫣. What can I say, I get flustered easily too. Also I wasn't sure in what format you wanted the reactions, in a little drabble like this, or written down per member, so I'm sorry if this is not what you wanted (i'm still not versed in the ways of running a blog). I hope you'll enjoy this! (Also yes, I know the gif isn't matching, I just couldn't find one from this dance)

Please let me know if I left a warning or anything out, I will add it in! Reblogs, likes and feedback are greatly appreciated!

!I don't condone anyone stealing my work and posting it anywhere without my permission, or feeding it to AI!

!This is just fiction, my interpretation of Stray Kids. By no means is this how they are and how they behave in real life!

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

The band was on their 3rd Fanmeeting, the crowds overly ecstatic wherever they went. There was a certain buzz in the air, amplifying the cheering and shouting even more than usual.

And the boys were absolutely thriving on it, adrenaline coursing through their veins in dangerous amounts, pushing them to perform on those bright stages for endless hours with no problem.

Bae was no different, his stage persona flawless, the perfect and cold mask on his face never even wavering. Fans shouted his name with all their might amidst their performances to different songs, trying to grab his attention, even if it was only for a split second. It never worked, the male too focused on doing well and dancing with all his might, executing the moves with scary precision. The fans were used to it by now, never expecting the idol to actually smile at them with a finger heart or even a wink sent their way, those actions suiting the other members much more. The tall otter was way too shy to do that, especially amidst dancing.

After the band performed the well-known and fan favourite dances that belonged to a few of their selected songs in Seoul, it was time for a little break and fanservice. Small chairs were brought up onto the stage, easily lifted and moved thanks to their light build. Everyone took their respective seats, Bae having his between Chan and Changbin. Not like it mattered anyway, the boys always kept switching up their seats and who they sat next to amidst the chaos.

And chaos, it was.

Bae knew what was going to happen, of course he did, having helped the others practise with the choreography, but it still didn’t take away the shock factor of seeing it live, right in front of him up on the stage.

It started with ‘Queencard’ by (G)I-DLE, the two males next to him standing up and walking to the centre of their little half-circle they had decided to sit in. Bae couldn’t help the smile that broke out on his face, seeing his bandmates perform so wonderfully, all those practices having paid off. But he also couldn’t help the way his eyes widened at certain moves, the skin on his ears undoubtedly already turning red. It only became worse once the song ended, Chan and Changbin going to sit back down and noticing his slightly flustered state.

He tried his best to ignore those giggles around him.

Focusing back in front of him, Bae suddenly wished he didn’t. The sight of Felix and Hyunjin dancing to ‘The Eve’ by EXO caught him off-guard, still not having fully recovered from the previous dance. Their moves were flawless, of course they were, being proud members of Danceracha, and the watching idol was extremely proud of them. He remembered which parts were tricky for who, both proudly skipping over to him when they had finally pulled them off.

But the moves were also sensual, way too much for the shy little otter. Yet, he couldn’t take his eyes off of them, gaze stuck in place and meeting with Hyunjin’s. The younger winked at him just as he performed the last hip roll, not knowing how much damage he had done to Bae’s brain.

By the end of the song Bae’s skin became several shades darker, the red extremely evident and vibrant on it. This naturally meant that everyone could see it easily, teasing him endlessly and with no mercy. It was a miracle in itself that he hadn’t exploded at all.

“Come on Bae hyung, why not dance it as well?” - Felix slyly added, wiggling his eyebrows. “N-no, I couldn’t–” - Bae tried to defend himself, only to have Hyunjin cut him off. “You’d basically learnt it with us, with how much you helped us. Come on Hyung, please?”

And who was he to say no to those eyes?

With a silent sigh, Bae closed his eyes and tried to cool himself down. Those boggled thoughts slowly detangled from each other, leaving his mind tidy and focused. The memories of each practice flashed before his closed eyelids, all in perfect order and great detail.

When he opened his eyes again he had already been standing in Felix and Hyunjin’s place, the attention of the crowd and his members all on him. A quiet breath left his lips, a hand carding through his hair as the song started up again, signalling that it was time.

Bae’s body moved in perfect rhythm, as if it was a well-oiled machine. Not a single step or flick of a hand was out of place, his mind on autopilot with only the thought of dancing floating in its entirety. He felt the tight leather pants constrict with each movement, the slit on the back of his shirt opening and flashing a bit of skin when he turned around.

As the song ended so did his focus, eyes blinking and seeing the cheering crowd as he was putting his hand down from his ending pose. Although somehow the ones next to him were much louder, something that should have been impossible to achieve.

“I TOLD YOU YOU COULD DO IT!” - Felix shouted, a smile on his lips so wide, Bae was afraid it would split his face in two. “Wah, I never knew our baby otter could dance like that!” - Chan said, all giggles and chuckles as he affectionately squeezed Bae’s shoulder. “I think you just killed a few people here, Dal hyung.” - Jeongin added in, Seungmin wholeheartedly agreeing.

At the head tilt of the flustered member, the puppy pointed at the remaining four members who laid on the floor, seemingly dead. Jisung kept glancing up occasionally, successfully catching Bae’s gaze.

“Yah, warn us before moving like that! Those hips are deadly, man.” - he accused, even pointing a finger at the poor man.

“I don’t think I can recover from this.” - agreed Hyunjin, dramatically draping an arm over his forehead.

“Guys, I think Binnie and Lino hyung actually died. They haven’t moved since then.” - Felix added in, sweatdropping at the situation.

The boy was right, as the two didn’t react even when Chan and Seungmin had shaken them. Only when Bae was nearby did they seemingly resurrect, latching onto his legs and gazing up at the blushing male with stars and adoration in their eyes.

“Marry me, jagi.” - the two said almost perfectly at the same time, even the petname they used matched.

Minho and Changbin glared at each other, all the while Bae became an absolute flustered mess, skin flushed all the way down to his neck and chest. The others enjoyed the show, maybe a bit too much, relishing in the fact that Bae had finally let up on stage for a bit. Most of them didn’t hesitate to join in and shower the tall idol with praises, only worsening his condition as he just stood there, hands covering his face so at least STAY wouldn’t see him.

He couldn’t let that happen, not in a million years. Let him have the remains of his dignity, if not anything else.

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