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whiteteadreams · 6 months

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Hello~ I really enjoy your fics and wanted to request a Wonho one. Maybe something where he is more submissive x gn/male reader- only if u feel comfortable. Thank you in advance 🩷🫶

Untitled (for now)

Pairing: Shin Wonho x GN Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Genre: Idol AU, Established Relationship

Warnings: smut, mature language/cursing, reader slut shames wonho (ITS SEXY), reader calls fans whores, aftercare because it's important!!

Smut Warnings: Degradation, reader uses wonho, face slapping once, dumbification, objectification, overstimulation, anal sex

a/n-i am so sorry that this took as long as it did. but here it is! i hope the wait was at least semi-worth it. i truly did some research so i didn't make my writing too feminine, (IT SHOWS I CARE!) unfortunately i'm not too proud of this work but it may be bc this is my first time intentionally writing gn reader or bc it actually ass sucks lolz. AGAIN, I AM SO SORRY!!!!!

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Awaiting his arrival, you sat on the plush couch in your shared apartment. Fuming, you tapped your foot on the floor, reminding yourself to calm down. It really wasn’t that big of a deal, he was yours, they were just fans behind screens. But still, them thirsting over your lover, was something that tested your patience.

From the photo he posted you could tell he was almost done. His muscles bulged from use, sweat dripped down his face and neck, and the towel wrapped around the back of his neck. It shouldn’t take him too long until he was back where he belonged, with you.

whorerat: OMG HIS THIGHS

jenosslut: nah, i can make him sweat

(s)creamingg: my manssssssssss

They were harmless and you knew that. He himself had reminded you. But as you scrolled through the comments of fans lusting after Wonho, your anger grew.

Your eyes snapped from your phone and to the door once you heard his car pull into the driveway. Getting up, you walked to the door, unlocking it and having your hand on the knob. Hearing the storm door open, you turned the handle and swung the door open, scaring him.

Ignoring his shrill shout and wide eyes, you jabbed your pointer finger at his broad, sweaty chest.

“You’re such a slut!” Wonho’s ears burned at your accusation and he caught on quickly but the color remained.

“Oh! You liked my post?” He threw you a lopsided smile and walked towards, lightly pushing past you and inside the house.

“Of course, I liked it! You’re my boyfriend! But it seems like I wasn’t the only one who liked it.” Wonho didn’t take your annoyance to heart, he found it endearing.

“You know…your opinion is the only one I care about.”

“Hmph.” Still, his answer didn’t satisfy you.

“Seems like I’m going to have to remind you who you belong to.”

Wonho was taken back by your voice, which had turned dark, husky almost. He turned around to question your intentions but was given an answer immediately when you pushed him backwards and onto the couch.

“Now, what was your motive with this? What made you decide to post a photo of you shirtless, legs spread in front of a mirror, with sweat dripping down your entire body? You’re telling me that you didn’t post that because the attention makes your dick drip?”

“I did it, because I wanted you to do this…”

Instead of even addressing his confession, you just laughed, causing the color in his ears to deepen.

Stepping closer to his figure on the couch, you bent down to plant a sweet kiss on his lips to let him know that you weren’t actually mad at him. You could feel his once tense body release said tension, and he was able to truly enjoy what was coming next.

Without interrupting your kiss, you swung your leg around his thigh before repeating the action on the other side.

“Please, please, just touch me. Do something, please.” Wonho hid his face in your neck. He was too embarrassed to look at you but still knew what he wanted, you.

Teasing your fingers up the inside of his thigh, you could feel the muscles hidden underneath his skin tense at your touch.

“How am I supposed to help you if I can’t even touch you properly?” Faking ignorance, you moved your head, forcing Wonho to look at you.

The color in his face has yet to drain but eagerly, he nodded and lifted his hips. Once his ass was lifted off the couch, he grabbed the hem of his shorts and boxers, pulling both off his hips all in one go.

Sitting back down, Wonho looked at you, anticipating your next move.

“Hard already? I haven’t even done anything yet. Maybe slutting yourself out just gets you off, huh?” HIs eyes widened and he was quick to deny your allegation.

“M-no! Just you, I wanted you to see!” It was pathetic really. How nervous he was, was absolutely pathetic. When he walked through the door, his sweat from his work out had chilled into his skin, but now, new beads were forming at his hairline from the sheer nervousness that was coursing through his veins.

“Aw, how sweet. Wonho got all hard at the thought of slutting himself out to me.” Words dripped with a sweet poison from your lips and he wanted nothing more to catch the drops before they fell too far.

“It would be such a shame if I were to leave you like this, but I guess not, you have all your whores in your comment sections thirsting after you.” Wonho knew you’d give him what he wanted, you always did, but not before making him suffer first, but the fear in the back of his head that today may be the day you make him take care of himself still nipped at his thoughts.

“No, I just want you please! No one else can touch me like you!”

“No one else can touch you period!”

“Yeah, no one else!” He was slurring his words at this point/ Saliva was overflowing from his mouth, causing him to drool all over himself.

“But, because of what you did, I’m gonna treat you like what you truly are. Just a useless dildo made for my pleasure.:

Wonho held no objections, he spread his thighs apart so you could use him to his full potential. That fear of you leaving him untouched lodged in his throat once more as you walked away suddenly towards your shared room. Now with you out of his sight and him knowing better than to get up without your permission, he relied on his hearing for any hints on what you were doing. It didn’t help much as he just heard you rummaging through what he assumed to be a drawer.

Soon the noise stopped and you entered his sight, trying to see what had changed, Wonho looked at you up and down only to be met with confusion. Your clothes were still as you left them but your right hand was clutched around something, hiding it from his view.

“Oh don’t worry, I just got some lube so it’s easier for me to use that stupid cock. Maybe that’s why it’s so big, because you’re so dumb…gotta make up for your flaws somewhere I suppose.”

So lost in desperation, Wonho blindly nodded. You doubted he actually knew what you were talking about which caused you to laugh at him.

“Please, just touch me, I need you. Just use me!”

”At least you know exactly what I’m going to do.” Hooking your fingers in the waistband of your sweats and briefs, you pulled them down in one go and stalked towards the giant trembling man at your use.

Without exchanging any words, you popped the cap of the lube off and squeezed a dollop out onto two of your fingers. Moving those fingers back to your rim, you fingered your hole on top of Wonho, letting out exaggerated moans to get the point of you not needing him across. When his whimpers picked up from you rolling your hips into his, you stopped your little show and decided to get the real attraction going.

Pulling your fingers out of yourself you squeezed another dollop of lube onto them, this time you used it on Wonho, wrapping your hand around his cock, you moved the lube up and down, squeezing his dick harder than necessary. When Wonho jerked up in your hand, rushing your pace, you used your free hand and brought it across his cheek harshly.

“Quit thinking with your fucking dick.” Shocked by your slap, Wonho nodded without making eye contact, as this was uncharacteristic of him, you were slightly worried, that was until you felt his dick throb in your hand.

“You’re a little pain slut, aren’t you?” He nodded more confidently which made you think he wanted you to hit him again, but you didn’t give him that satisfaction and instead of that sharp stinging feeling, he was granted the feeling of you sinking down onto his dick.

Tightly closing his eyes, Wonho gasped at the sudden feeling. You could see him fist the couch fabric and try to adjust to you.

Like the good boy he is, Wonho kept his hands to himself, keeping those hands at his sides, he let you use him like you wanted.

Bouncing up and down on his dick, you changed your pace when you could feel him start to buck up into you. There were several times that you had to actually lift off of him as he got too close to the edge before you allowed him to. Looking down at his cock, it strained, trying to find some friction that would allow him to finish.

“I didn’t say you could cum Wonho…”

Closing his eyes in what you could only assume as concentration, he nodded and you slid back down onto him. But before you could even move, you felt your hole fill with his cum.

“Are you serious? You were being so good?”

Not even letting him respond, you went ahead and started going again. Ignoring his whimpers and pleas to stop, you giggled and tweaked his nipples.

“I told you I was going to use you; it isn’t my fault that you didn’t listen to me or wait. This is just what you get.”

Moans continued to roll off his tongue, and with how loud he was getting, you were worried the neighbors would hear and complain. Connecting your lips as one, you swallowed all of Wonho’s moans as your own since you were the cause.

When Wonho’s hands moved from his sides to yours, you didn’t complain. He pulled you closer to his chest, needing something to secure him as he was getting close again.

“Please, I need to cum again.”

“Wait so we can finish together.” Finally, he listened for once.

His grip tightened drastically, you knew that in the morning, there would be Wonho finger shaped bruises decorating your skin. Clenching down on him, you moved faster, trying to catch up with Wonho so you could make good of your suggestion.

“Fuck, almost there Wonho, hold it.”

Your movements were sloppy, quick and with a purpose. It took only a couple more rolls of your hips before the both of you were coming undone.

You felt your cum shoot out and when you looked at its landing place, it was all over Wonho’s abs. And his cum just added another layer to your walls.

Heavy breathing and sweaty skin sliding together was the only thing you could pay attention to. The feeling and sounds of Wonho fogged your mind and when you looked at him, it was obvious he felt a similar way.

“You did so well. Let’s get you cleaned up okay?” Wonho nodded and allowed you to pull him up and off the couch. He followed your lead to the bathroom and watched you set up a bath for him, even adding bath salt to help with his post workout muscles.

“Alright Wonho, it’s warm enough, let’s get in okay?” Your voice was back to its soft and quiet nature.

“You’re not actually mad at me right? By posting the picture and everything?”

“Of course, I’m not mad! You’re hot and I love that you know that I just gotta show you who you belong to every now and then.”

#wonho x reader #wonho #shin wonho #shin hoseok #gn reader #x reader #smut #kpop #kpop smut #wonho smut #wonho solo #monsta x wonho

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ryupages · 2 years

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i like when you’re around. || s.rj

— <3 —

prompt : ryujin hates it when you’re close with her. whenever you’re around her, ryujin would get really embarrassed and her friends would always tease her because of it. meanwhile, you liked being around ryujin and would always help her out with whatever ryujin needs. one day, ryujin had enough of your clinginess so she yelled at you and said some harsh things that really hurt your feelings. and from then on, you distant yourself from ryujin which made ryujin missed you and regret what she said to you.

—

requested: yes!

genre :: angst, fluff

a/n :: hello, i’m back! this request has also been in my inbox for a while, and i just never got around to writing it until now </3

—

irritation. the bitter and annoying feeling spread through ryujin’s body as she heard your voice calling behind her. the familiar giggles of her friends echoed through her ears as you came closer.

“ryujin! hi, my love,” you chirped, wrapping your arms around her torso and resting your face against her back.

you didn’t see the way ryujin’s jaw clenched in annoyance and embarrassment. you didn’t hear her friends tease her for how you clung onto her. you were just so happy to be near her, she brought you comfort. ryujin, however, felt her eye twitch as her friends kept teasing her. she nudged you off and stormed off, muttering curse words under her breath.

you frowned as her friends’ giggles toned down. you didn’t have time to question why they were laughing and ran to catch up to your girlfriend.

“ryujin!” you called out, not missing the way her shoulders tensed up as she came to a halt.

“what’s wrong, what happened?” you said in between breaths, your frown deepening as she let out an exaggerated sigh.

she finally turned around to face you, and you took this as a chance to hold her but she shoved your arms away. you gasped, not used to the sudden cold behavior. yes, ryujin never showed you the same amount of physical affection that you showed, but never did she try to push you away.

“can you stop fucking touching me?” one stab.

“what do you mean? did i do something wrong?” you asked, suddenly anxious as your mind tried to piece together what you could’ve done to upset her.

“yes! do you know how embarrassing it is to have a girlfriend who never lets me breathe? you’re always on me, like give me some fucking space, y/n!” two stabs.

“always breathing down my neck, even my friends think it’s ridiculous! fuck off and let me live, will you?” three stabs, and your heart finally broke.

you just stared at her, hoping to find that she didn’t mean what she said, but her clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows said enough. you simply muttered an “okay” as you turned around to head back to your house.

you didn’t cry, at least not as much as you thought you would. you. you just silently made your way home, overthinking everything of what ryujin said, wondering if you have been as good as a partner as you originally thought.

━━━━━━━━━━

over the next few weeks, it was a bit very lonely. instead of going to bed with you on top of her, you had your back to her. usually, when you came home from work, you’d plop on ryujin’s lap and ramble about her day. now, you just flashed a smile and head into the bedroom or study.

ryujin pretended to not mind or care, but truthfully, she had gotten used to the routine of you throwing yourself on her at any given opportunity. she never realised how warm she felt when you held her at night. tugging on her hair frustration, ryujin recalled what she said to you that day.

she can’t even think of a time where you cursed at her or yelled at her. always so gentle and patient, yet she decided to hurt your feelings because of embarrassment. her head snapped up and she faced the door upon hearing you making your way inside. she immediately stood up and quickly made her way to you.

“y/n, we need to talk, please.” ryujin pleaded, as a curious look took over your face.

slowly, you nodded and followed ryujin back to the couch as you both sat down. you waited for her to say something, your eyes staying on her while you wait. finally she sighed, before meeting your eyes.

“i’m really sorry,” she said, voice just barely above a whisper.

she cleared her throat before continuing, “i’m so sorry for what i said to you. i shouldn’t have said it like that— actually i shouldn’t have said any of that stuff at all.”

you just sat there, confused and shocked. snapping back into it, you frowned as it was your turn to be irritated and frustrated.

“you really hurt me, ryujin,” you sneered. “i can’t just forgive you that easily.”

ryujin ripped her gaze from you and looked down at her lap, shame filling her instantly. she knew she crossed the line, but she really wanted to fix this.

“you don’t have to forgive me right away, i don’t expect you to,” she spoke, lifting her gaze again to meet yours. “but please know i’ll do anything to fix it.”

you pondered her words before frowning, not sure how to feel. ryujin watched your body tense up. she bit her lip before hesitantly pulling you close, holding you tightly. you felt a smile creep onto your face as you cuddled into her.

“i love you, i’m sorry that i made you feel like i don’t,” she whispered, kissing your temple. “i’m sorry it took me yelling at you to realize i actually adore you and your affection.”

your smile grew at her words as you looked up at her. she mirrored your expression as you kissed her gently.

“i love you too, ryujin. please don’t push me away anymore.”

ryujin knew what she had to do to prove to you that you can trust her, but for now? she just wanted to hold you the way she should’ve held you before.

“i won’t, i promise.”

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kingmaker-a · 9 months

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Our Broken Parts, Perfect Puzzle Pieces | Shin Ryujin

Superhero/Batman AU

Rewrite of Gotham Nights/Abandoned (1)

Vigilante Reader x Batgirl Ryujin

Warnings: Mentions of violence, death and implied trauma.

Word Count: 5.1k

Genre: Fluff, angst and comfort

Premise: You take shelter in a seedy motel after a less than stellar mission pushes Ryujin to her limits. In those quiet moments, you can't help but notice the distance years can make, as well as the cracks and scars that mark you both.

A/N: A rewrite as I mentioned previously, that references some events that happened in the original piece or that I intended to write for the original piece, though you don't have to read it to grasp the fic.

Each step is heavy, heavier than you would like, boots crashing against concrete in violent waves. Rain pelts and creeps into the gaps in your costume, hard leather and metal plates can do nothing against it.

Her voice hitches on the eve of each step, a muffled curse with each breath. Still, she bites, holds back against her teeth in your presence. You can pick out against the angered flares of her chest.

The rain is so loud it's hard to follow anything, even your own thoughts melt against it's onslaught.

Her hands are hot, clenched tight to your shoulders despite the rain. The quiver of tired, broken muscles begs her closer into your grasp. You can practically smell the blood that seeps into you.

Evidence of her hot-blooded anger.

Each stair creaks and groans under your shared weight, each breath is laboured, twisting into a mask of pain.

She quivers and shakes as you crest the landing, pulling away from you with a sharp snap to the banister, her knuckles flare white under the strain.

The more things change the more they stay the same.

There's a flicker of weak, prideful defiance that hangs in her eyes.

She can't keep this up, shouldn't keep this up.

The rain thickens, unabated and uncaring of her plight.

It's dry the way your voice finally rumbles to life, "come on I'll carry you."

It stabs and cuts deep, the scowl that peeks past her lips. Still her voice is weak, almost imperceptible against the torrent of rain.

"Fuck you," she wheezes, hazy and lightheaded. Her feet clatter against the stairs, defiant and unfocused.

You don't flinch, you don't reach out. You only follow after her, allowing her a fleeting moment of arrogance.

Pride comes before-she falters, quivers and shakes against fatigue. Her hands lurch with panic, reaching, clawing through the air.

You catch her without a second thought as her eyes flutter shut.

Even against the motel floor, your resting place, there's comfort to be had. Especially after having been dead.

Yet it's the soft crackle of a sob that echoes through the air that jolts you awake. Torn away from the slumbering abyss, your hands slip under your makeshift pillow - your leather jacket, ear attentive, at the ready.

The patter of rain slowly lulls you, beckoning you back to slumber.

You needed the rest.

Another crackle, this time racked and fragmented. It hitches, in the slightest way, painted with a shade of bad memories.

You sounded the exact same.

It's instinctual, automatic. You pull yourself up without a second thought, the ache of your muscles unheeded.

It's soft and tranquil, the way she lays. Beautiful in the briefest flickers of moonlight that dare part the clouds. Her knuckles flare white against sheet and pillow, the reflection of tears cast in pale Moonlight.

That's when you feel a knot of hesitation tighten, a moment you shouldn't notice or acknowledge. You know it without a doubt, a kindred spirit in pain and trauma.

Her scar tissue, her broken parts should be ignored, unacknowledged for her sake.

To call attention was to be made vulnerable and ugly to the unmarked.

Your hands clench, as you move, shuffle away in the eves of darkness. To allow her to be herself, in all her torment.

If only she knew she didn't have to be strong in front of you.

But it was better this way.

A dry gulp is all you manage, daring one last look as you slink away.

A hot white flash paints the room and it all happens so quickly, disjointed and out of order as your mind reels.

A sharp pain in your shoulder, in your hand? Her breath cracks and hitches, a silhouette, you. An apology at the edge of your lip as a batarang soars through the air.

It clips your hand with a cutting ease; you were too slow on the draw.

It lodges in your shoulder.

There's a flash of panic over her face, a friend not a foe. "Shit, shit, shit."

She's already tearing at the hem of her shirt, before you can even point out you'll be fine, or even the slightly used med kit.

The floor creaks and warps in her rush, her hands hard and calloused as she tugs you.

"It's just a flesh wound," you prod as she struggles against her tired aching muscles, it's haphazard the way she slings your arm over her shoulder, a counterfeit echo of your actions earlier. "I'm not dying, I would know."

You offer a smile, it's token and comedic, a rare departure from your brooding demeanor.

But someone had to lighten the mood. It's forgotten as she fusses over, a frown pressed into her lips is the only acknowledgement that you were even heard.

Her lips part, a noise claws at her throat, a question, a response?

It's neither as it firmly dies in the ensuing silence between you two. The silence is quaint, especially when she's all makeshift bandages and worried looks.

It's inevitable when you end up in her spot, the single bed, the only bed in the dingy motel that you called a safe house.

Your brain flickers back to hours ago, when your roles had been swapped. Tending to her various nicks and injuries, a rare time of solace in the storm of her new found bravado.

A better name for it was recklessness–

Her face flutters so dangerously close, you can pick out every individual eyelash. You're surprised when her words are so soft and delicate, especially compared to earlier.

"Hoodie?" It's soft and tentative, like fine China or porcelain as if the mere mention would fracture years of history.

…

You're different people now, scarred in your own distinct ways.

It's hard not to catch the frown she so desperately tries to hide, it probably would've worked on Nightwing, on Jiu.

A smile crawls along your lips, hand clutching against hers as she tries to pull away from your orbit.

The two had been intimate, perhaps she would've been better off with the older far more talented Robin.

"I haven't heard that name in years."

It's fleeting in those moments, as her frown scatters and breaks against nascent memories. You don't get to catch her smile in full, it's hidden and stitched behind a mask of cobbled detachment, trauma and pain.

Still, you catch the flicker in the corner of teeth, the brief crease of her cheeks and the bloom of warmth behind her eyes.

"Yeah," it's soft, yet brimming with a stubborn warmth. A blanket from childhood that never gives up, held together with… Well, love and affection. The concept felt almost starkly forei- "It's been awhile since Gotham Academy."

There's another brief flicker in her eyes, one you can't quite pick out as her hand grips tighter against your own.

Your throat is dry, drier than you thought. You wanna blame it on something, anything but it all feels too hollow like an excuse.

A mask.

You don't have the strength to fight the frown that forms on your lips, not in front of her.

"Yeah, it has."

It's tormented the way your voice sinks and drags at the bottom of an ocean. An ocean of feeling you can't quite make out, or understand.

It's just a tormented mess.

Conversation drags along your throat, every thought, every idea dies unceremoniously before it even gets a chance.

You're just thankful she doesn't leave, she holds tight in your orbit as you both share a sobering moment, the patter of heavy rain and howling winds the accompaniment.

Her eyes are steely, yet glassy, dancing with her own thoughts. What you would give to dare a loo-

She shifts back a little as a hand shifts to your shoulder just above the lodged batarang.

"Hood-"

You just nod, before the worry can trickle and tremble in her voice, before it rattles through her hands.

There's a flex, a dip of her brow before her hand twists over the batarang. Despite all her experience playing a guarded hand, it's easy for you to pick out the way her features tighten, twisting into an expression of pain as she tugged.

It moves slowly at first and then not at all, as her eyes shift between you and your wound.

The Ryujin in front of you was fragile, kind and overall human. A far cry from the Batgirl you had met earlier, painted in thick violent hues, the smile that clawed against her soft lips as she teetered on the edge of no return.

Your domain.

Your domain of twisted catharsis, of hellish flame and death.

You can still remember the flecks of blood that painted her helmet, the devilish smile that felt oh so familiar. The corruptive sadistic pleasure of violence unbridled, to let loose, to no longer hold back against the scum of the world.

Your hand grips over hers, her breath hitches at your touch. Words crest and tickle the edge of lips, dance at the tip of tongue.

She was so dangerously close to the edge, to damnation in the fires of hell.

To become a monster.

You still remember the way her eyes just clicked even through her mask.

To succumb, to break the one rule.

You had been good up until that point, really good.

But as the gunshot echoes through your skull even now?

You don't regret it one bit.

It's over quicker than she expected, a flash of what you can only guess as a horrified kind of surprise. It's effortless the way you tug and pull the batarang out of your body.

It almost tickles.

Her expression shifts back to a barely veiled worry as she rushes to inspect the wound.

You had forgotten what it was like, too used to being a lone wolf, an outcast.

It was probably for the best that it was her of all people.

"Hoodie-" her voice is stained, weighed heavy with guilt, you don't need to see her eyes or read her mind to see all the calculated ways she blames herself.

Your hands clasp against hers, pull her focus towards you before she can spiral.

It's a weird and equally rare moment to watch her unravel, a knit sweater pulled apart by a stray strand.

"Wait." Her fingers fight against your calloused grip, your eyes stray to your wound, telling her to look closer.

A secret.

Her nose twitches, a tell of potential defiance brewing underneath the skin, it simmers, threatens to explode and burst like water and oil.

Yet, she softens all the same, eyes cast downward, trailing after yours with a sway of hesitance.

You didn’t blame her.

Her lips tighten against each other, tensing on the edge of a frown.

Your wound blooms with a soft ephemeral glow, a mixture of a sickly almost radioactive green twisted with a soft calming cyan. Small wisps flutter and dance as your skin slowly but surely stitches itself together.

Your grip loosens as you push a finger to your lips, a hushed secret just for her.

Her hand darts forward, stopping just shy of your exposed skin, dry blood crusted against the surface. Her eyes drift and linger against yours.

It's weird and soft, the notes that play against the shell of your heart.

To be treated like a human was an almost forgotten memory, your eyebrows knit together struggling against the tug at your core.

Her fingers hover in place, as her eyes soften, telling you to take your time.

Your throat is dry once again as words struggle to climb up from your heart or drift down from your brain.

It's your hand that pulls her touch against your skin.

It's delicate the way she feels against you, like you'd tear like paper in the rain.

There's a moment caught between the patter of raindrops, when she leans closer to your shoulder. Her breath brushes against your cheek, tickles against every nerve ending.

It's warm, just like the embers that bustle to life in your chest.

A smile twitches against her lips, a thumb pressing into your skin, "when-?"

Lost in the shuffle, she turns to you. Her smile lingers only for a second, as it too gets lost in the shuffle.

The question dances and dies on your lips as her jaw snaps shut and her features tighten.

You're too lost in how close she is, how softly she looks at you, how softly she looked at you.

You don't catch the grim realization. Not until it's too late, not until she pulls away and you feel your heart crack just that little bit.

You didn’t know it could still do that.

"I-uh."

It's caught in her throat, it twists and claws as she swallows.

It's not the awkwardness that cuts deep… You're used to it.

It's the flutter of her eyes, the way she can't manage to pin herself down and look at you, look you in the eyes.

Her lips part as yet another word dies on the tip of her tongue.

Part of you would languish in her awkwardness, would have.

But it's different now, when the knife is pointed at you, when the edge threatens to tear you into ribbons.

The one other person that could understand. That you hoped would understand.

Doesn't.

Her voice catches like a bad lie, you've told many of them. It struggles and bashes against her, eyes clamped shut in frustration.

It's quiet, suffocatingly so.

You almost can't hear the rain.

The only thing she manages is a sigh as she shuffles further away near the foot of the bed.

Suddenly, the door is interesting for her and for you.

You can feel it boil under your skin, itching at your veins.

Frustration, at what and to whom? You didn’t want to think about it.

There's a weird exposure you feel in those long dry moments…

Vulnerable is the word. It feels unnatural against your skin, it burns into every pore no matter how much you curl up.

Even as you tug your knees to your chest, it doesn't go away. It lingers and rots on every breath.

It only weighs heavier in those quiet moments.

You swore you wouldn't be vulnerable ever again.

A promise you made to the kid that died, a dry almost ironic chuckle claws at your throat. To think you'd be the one to unravel like a shitty sweate-

"Jiu missed you, you know?"

It's dry and robotic, alien and detached.

Still, it's enough. Enough to pull you out of your stupor, enough so you can grasp air with tired lips.

Enough, so your eyes can linger against hers.

Enough to see the slightest hitch in her lips, her attention still drawn to the door.

Only now can you see it. In the brief flash of lightning, you see her. The one hidden behind all the layers, all the strength, all the bravery and bravado.

The broken parts, her broken parts.

Worn and rusted, aged against the grime and filth of Gotham.

There is no reason to think about it, no reason to linger on what ifs. To question if you could've done something, would've done something.

Wind howls and whips at the old motel, the walls whisper and creak.

She turns to you with glassy eyes, a sullen tug of her lips. Yet, you catch the brief flicker that is you, trapped in the reflection of her eyes.

Perhaps you both were a pile of broken parts?

Her lips tighten and you swear you hear her teeth clench, threatening to break under the pressure.

All this tiptoeing, all this dancing makes you nauseous.

Subtly and trepidation is wasted on you, wasted on her.

"So you're walking again," it catches you off guard, it's viscerally awkward even in your voice--jarring and harsh, like a punch to your skull.

You wince and you swear you feel your veins shrivel under the skin. Her eyebrows knit together, as her face shifts, a question on the edge of her features.

Did you really say that?

But the punch lands all the same.

A scoff sails from her lips, fluttering into a coy smile. You can see it in the small quirk at the corner of her lips, the wry annoyance, the sheer surprise at your awkward audacity.

Yet, it's a smile all the same and that's what you latch onto as the tension crashes to the ground around you like a glass pane.

There's a flicker in her eyes, the brief realization, you might be a moron.

"Well," her lips flatten as her eyes. It's calculated and measured the way she shuffles on the bed to face you. Still, you can't help but notice the small inch or two that moves her closer. She presses a finger into your chest, prodding yet playful. "I figured, it can't be half as hard as coming back from the dead."

It's subtle, the hum you feel in your heart, as her finger lingers for longer than you expect.

A soothing mellowness that your soul has long since forgotten. It flutters against your core long after she retracts her touch.

“Yeah, I bet.” Your eyes roll, teeth chattering with a smile.

She softens in those hushed breaths, a small dainty, delicate smile. “Thanks.”

It’s all but a whisper lost between raindrops, a small eve of a moment reserved only for you. Still you cock your head to the side, eyebrows knitting together.

“For what?”

You were far from humble, that was just who you were. At least when it came to life under a mask.

Her lips tug, tighten against each other. Sealing the air with a ruggish seriousness, a vulnerability. Yet, as your eyes cling to hers in that moment, you realize there is strength.

“Everything,” again, it's barely a whisper against the world. A tiny fragment, a shard that glistens in her eyes, shimmering across a shared ocean of memories.

It is unfathomable, the depths that bounce and swell with every wave. A wash with the sway of a different life brimming with naivety.

Of a younger, innocent you.

Alien and foreign, long since buried in the ash and mud.

Someone best left in the past.

Her touch is cold as her hands clench tight against your own. A shiver jitters against your palms as your eyebrows tighten, latching together.

Yet, her grip doesn’t err or falter, as if you would slip through her fingers if she wasn't careful.

This was something you needed to hear.

You weren't the type for excuses nor any attempt to bludgeon someone with excessive prose and/or a dictionary in an attempt to garner sympathy.

Though you wouldn't rule out the latter in the literal sense at least.

You can feel the slightest whisper of her gaze, picking out every tiny minute detail held by your face.

It's a lingering, almost loving warmth that catches against every unkempt strand of helmet hair.

Her eyes clutch at every tired stretch of skin, carved by sleepless nights and late night patrols.

You catch the slightest hitch of her lips, right at the corners, practically unnoticeable against the brief flicker of moonlight.

It's easy, natural even to think of yourself as a scar. A wound, a chilling reminder of failure and disappointment etched forever into the skin of others.

It's… Different, the way she takes you in.

It's a nestled warming hug in each microsecond her gaze lingers. Soothing like the kiss of the sun, on that one perfect afternoon. Each detail truly admired as it's dedicated to her memory.

You didn't need her photographic memory to know she's never like this. It's on the quiver of her lip, right at the edge between the chatter of her teeth.

Her words would, will rip through everything like a gunshot.

…

You pull away, it's only natural.

Away from her cold grasp, you tug and pull at the billowing warmth held in your sleeves.

Her eyes paint a picture of surprise, a flare of wide white.

Her eyebrows pick up the pieces, as her nose scrunches in tow, smearing her canvas with a flicker of pain.

There's a small moment in between the patter of rain, that you can pick out so clearly. It's guttural, the words that claw at her throat.

It's only natural.

You would later learn it was an apology in its infancy, unprepared and underbaked.

It's weird you realize as your body moves, dancing to your own twisted tango. You doubt the league of assassins intended for your training to be used like this.

A quick flurry is all it takes, everything is a blur of fabric as you grab her hands once again.

You can feel it in her palms, in her fingers as they flutter in surprise.

It almost tickles.

Her hands quickly find their spot against yours.

That's a sentence you didn't want to pick apa-

A smile blooms across your lips, as you watch your hoodie slowly settle on her.

Though you're definitely not as good as you thought, even if you managed to get it mostly on her.

She drowns in it, lets it hang in bunched waves by her shoulders, on her neck. She shrinks into it, allowing only her eyes to poke past her ardent tower shield.

Was this how your father felt, giving it to you those many years ago?

It's almost hard to believe it was the same, as your eyes linger against each tear and subsequent repair job you had made over the years.

There's an urgency to her words, at least that's what it feels like as they're muffled against the waves of fabric that enshroud her.

You catch it with ease, the soft flicker of her bravery as her eyes dim, hands pulling from yours as she tugs at the hood.

It's a fleeting moment, the way you watch her eyes soften, a tenderly lit smile warms her lips as she hugs at the fabric, swaddled in its warmth.

The moonlight almost becomes candlelight in those small intimate seconds as her eyes glitter like stardust.

How you wish you could unfurl that moment and let it rest against your heart until the end of time.

Her words are a gunshot nonetheless.

"I… Thought of you, you know?" it hangs awkwardly in the air, clogs at her throat with a dry claw.

She splinters under your gaze, whatever bravery she had cracks, thrown ashew like broken porcelain.

It cuts just as easily.

Your ears bleed with a high pitched whine, the pulse of your heart booming deep into your skull.

It only picks up in those frozen moments, as your brain twists and bends as it burns with old scorched remnants of Gotham's very own clown prince of crime.

Your killer.

His twisted laughter echoes and warps through your mind.

It's a sharp breath that cuts the strings, her sharp breath.

A look of resignation hangs every on her brow, eyes distant in your absence.

It's sudden, explosive and violent as her grip locks against your wrists.

As if the moment would float away to forgotten unspoken shores mired in an ocean of what-ifs.

It's subtle the tremble that lingers against you.

Like a million tiny wings.

You could almost swear it was an earthquake, or the rattle of a nearby semi.

Her jaw clenches tight, her eyes flare with a sudden panic.

You can feel it, the uncertainty that burrows in her between cause and effect, the agonizing split second where doubt festers.

When your mouth dries and suddenly you can't breathe as every planned, calculated thought evaporates under the newfound heat, the pressure to be vulnerable.

It wasn't your strong suit either.

Yet it's automatic, the way you move, pulled, guided by instinct before your own poisonous thoughts can convince you otherwise.

Your friend needed you.

Kindness is foreign, antiquated against the caliber of violence you have grown used to.

Yet, somehow it returns home for you with a soft bloom and gentle touch. Even within your twisted shell it blossoms, coaxing you forward with a fervent touch.

A soft tug and a surprised yelp is all it translates to on the surface, it's hard to fight the billowing warmth that curves across your lips.

She's awkward, taken off-guard, threatening to make a tangled mess of your limbs as she tries to catch herself.

It's… human, real, genuine, choose whatever word you want for it, but most importantly it's Ryujin who collides with your chest.

Not Batgirl, not the commissioner's daughter.

Shin Ryujin, close friend and kindred spirit whose hands clutch so desperately at your shirt it threatens to tear, her hot ragged breath that dances through the fabric and against your skin.

Her tears burn with a molten hot anguish, it creeps through your shirt against your skin as she buries herself into your chest. It’s rough, greedy even, the way she pulls and tugs against you.

You tenderly rest your hand against her head, your touch drifts with a tranquil softness through the waves of her silky soft locks. Her shoulders shake and shudder, sobs cracking against your chest with a muffled sorrowful torment.

It seeps into every crack and crevice you share.

Yet as the sobs fade, relinquishing their choke hold over her as your thumb caresses the crown of her head. She peers up at you, eyes glistening and glassy.

Her voice is raw, raspy as it cracks through the somber silence.

"I realized you weren't so lucky."

It rips through your thoughts and tears your breath away.

The wet shimmering tears, the tranquil cascade that made her so beautiful in the crisp hallowed moonlight.

For you.

Her voice drags like an anchor, even with the release of burden thoughts.

"Even as I bled on the floor, even when I got the news I couldn't, probably wouldn't walk again," her eyes drift to her legs for a brief flicker.

There's the slightest uptick of a smile, it quirks at the edge of her lips between panting breaths as she drifts so dangerously close to you.

It's hard to ignore the spark that creeps between the cracks, the way it settles in your broken, damaged core when she presses her forehead against yours.

She winces slightly, words caught against her throat, digging at her heart with jagged rusty edges. There’s a quiver across her features, it clings tight to her lips.

"I loved Jiu…" Her features tighten, voice rough, dry and drawn taut with raspiness. Her eyes glitter with fought back tears, yet even Batgirl falters.

Her tears fall once again, raindrops lost in the cascade that always dots Gotham.

Her teeth grit together with wavering strength, as she swallows, pushing back against her fears that cling so tight to her chest.

Her grip tightens against your shirt, before fading all together as a deep breath sails between the two of you.

Still her voice shakes, it's an eerie experience unique to your shared burdens. Her eyes clamp shut.

"... For you."

Another gunshot sails through your brain, ringing deep into your head, rattling against your heart.

Words burst through her lips, tumbling uncontrollably like water through a burst dam.

Tears still sputter through, even as her features tighten in a desperate fight to hold them at bay.

"I can remember the way you were so awestruck in her presence, the way you'd hang on to every word."

You catch the slightest flare of her teeth, a teetering scowl as her nose crinkles.

Her voice creaks and groans, like a strong tree branch under the pressure of a raging storm. "Do you understand how it feels?"

Yet it’s hard for you to fit a word in, her storm, tumultuous and unstoppable in its wake. Her eyes are sharp like cold steel in spite of the warm tears that trail down her face like glimmering moonlight.

“It's etched into my brain, Hoodie."

Each syllable is laced with mourning, not venom.

"Permanently."

Somehow it burns all the same, with a sickly acidic touch to your heart. Each word sears against its weak flesh, your imperfect recollection coils tight at each snapping defiant memory.

She used to look at Jiu the same way, right?

Right?

Her lips quiver, fluttering on the edge of something more, desperate, begging to be released from the cage that torments her mind and heart.

The flames of heated anger, flare, licking at her teeth, itching into her features. Her hands grip tight against the fabric of your shirt.

You catch the slightest edge of disappointment, for whom you couldn’t tell.

But if you had to make a bet–

Her voice chokes, cracks catching in her throat drawn too by the weight of it all. Her tears mourn with a tranquil torrent bathed in iridescent moonlight.

"The worst part-" her lips shudder on the edge of true sinful confession, anger creeps and burns across each and every corner of her face.

Yet her eyes are nothing but soft as she beholds you.

"Is feeling myself… Slowly fall in love with you, again. To watch as you slowly creep into my heart, when you just made me feel normal. You made the academy bearable, hell, I started looking forward to school but then-"

You died.

There was no easy way to say it, you can see it in her eyes. Even as she clings so desperately tight to you, even in her grasp it doesn't take away from the pain she must've felt.

Perhaps you hadn't seen it until the moment, no you definitely didn't. She was… is Batgirl, she wasn't like you and the other Robins. Jiu might be the standard, but Ryujin actively defied it.

She was a caliber all of her own, because she didn't have Batman, she didn't need him.

Your fate would always be tied close to his yet.

No matter what you do.

To put it simply… she was always just out of reach, you could barely touch the bottom of the pedestal, you put her on.

Yet, as you gaze at her in those lingering moments as she clings to what little strength she has, to lay it all out.

Amongst the sound of echoing soft rain, her scars, your scars, were broken parts no longer.

It's sudden the way her voice dies in her throat, her lips snap together against yours as you pull her tight.

There's no resistance as she melts against you, deepening each moment with a desperate longing.

It flutters against your chest like a soaring bird.

Adrift in a sea of rain, a seedy motel, your vessel, you click together like perfect puzzle pieces.

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chaoticyumelikes · 8 months

Text

Mao Mao Mao x Gn!Reader

Good ol' dad

Shin Mao has come to visit his son at the forceful request of his wife. Fortunately, since the last time he visited, the legendary hero has been more caring towards Mao Mao, even as far as not getting his name wrong so often.

Mao Mao still looked up to his dad despite Adorabat and Badgerclops still not knowing why. So naturally in a casual conversation, the topic of you arose.

Mao Mao had the biggest crush on you but you always seemed to try to quickly get away from him or say something awkward and there you disappear. His dad listened to him attentively and seemed to recognize some patterns in how you reacted. But to make sure...he came up with a plan. He told his son to follow him and show him who you were. Mao Mao thought something strange was going on but didn't object to his father and they went out to your usual location. Seeing you there Mao Mao pointed at you and Shin Mao grinned.

"Alright," he whispered to his son "Just play along."

Now with a slightly louder voice, he says: "Well Moo Moo, gotta say your position here as a hero is just not impressive."

Your ears turned in their direction.

"What? But dad--"

"I mean! Your sisters would have already moved on to bigger places than this."

You clenched your fists.

Mao Mao even though he knew his father was up to something still hurt. His eyes threatened to spill tears.

"Honestly, such a disappointment Me Mo"

Suddenly you moved with such speed that others only saw a blur. You climbed Shin Mao's chestplate till you were face to face as you yelled.

"His name is MAO MAO!! MAO! MAO! He is LITERALLY your last name THREE TIMES!!! How could you even get it wrong?! Also! Disappointment?! Excuse you!!! Your son has been looking after Pure Heart Valley's citizens, fighting a strange and regular horde of monsters and sky pirates for no reason other than his good heart and in hopes he can make you proud. HOW DARE YOU HAVE SUCH AN ATTENTIVE SON THAT LOVES YOU AND TREAT HIM WITH SUCH DISRESPECT?! With such A FLIPPANT ATTITUDE EVEN?! You do NOT DESERVE HIM!!!!!"

Mao Mao's eyes widen at your reaction. He blushes at every compliment you give him and how passionate you are about defending his honour. Now he just needs to try to get you off his father who just looks at you with a calm smirk (which infuriates you even more).

Mao Mao finally being able to wrap his hands around you trying to get you off. "It's ok, stop, please!"

"No! He needs to know! Aaaargh!"

Mao Mao successfully removing you from his father gives you a kiss on your cheek which makes you go completely limp, face red at his action.

"I-I just---- I need to go!" And there you go running away again.

At this Shin Mao boisterously laughs.

"See, son? They like you back! If they didn't they wouldn't risk coming to face me!"

Mao Mao blushes still looking at you disappearing on the horizon at how embarrassed you were. His father places a paw on his shoulder "My father did the same for me when I was trying to get with your mother you know? All beings turn insanely protective of the ones they love. Even if they are up against a legendary warrior! So you have nothing to worry about Mao Mao... Well, maybe you should worry they are going into the monster forest..."

Mao Mao stiffens at that and, seeing as you indeed were headed towards the forest in your blind panic, screams and dashes to save you.

Shin Mao just chuckles as he remembers the same thing that happened in his youth with his now wife.

#mao mao x reader #mao mao #gn!reader #mao mao heroes of pure heart #Mao mao heroes of pure heart valley #shin mao #free mao mao

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bones4thecats · 4 months

Note

If it's okay can I please ask for Carla and shin and Azusa but how would they react to kianna only rejecting their feelings because kianna didn't want too put them in danger because kianna knows how jealous and

unpredictable the sakamaki brothers can be so they end up getting fed up with it and decided just to take her from the mansion but they soon see her sitting on the steps of the manor after poisoning all the brothers with poison that can kill a vampire in order to be with him

and kianna:

Type of Writing: Request Characters: Carla Tsukinami, Shin Tsukinami, and Azusa Mukami Name: Escapes The Brothers to Be With {Character} Requester: @nunezs-stuff

A/N: Honestly, when I first read this I could not think of anything. But, I did eventually grip my idea! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this, lil bubble🫧

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

🦇 Carla could handle himself against the brothers easily, he was a founder, one that has lived for many more years than them combined

🦇 The First Blood King held his status to a high-degree, especially around any creature he deemed unworthy of his amusement, including you

🦇 But, when he realized how much his chest warmed up whenever he saw you smiling and messing around with Yui, your older sister, he just sighed and began making plans

🦇 The Sakamaki brothers could do nothing against him when it was one-by-one, but when he confessed and proposed a marriage, you were obviously weary because of them and your sister

🦇 Carla had allowed you three months time to figure out an arrangement for you both, one to keep you and your sister safe

🦇 Once the three months were over, the eldest Tsukinami brother took way to the Sakamaki Manor, expecting to see you smiling with your sister while the brothers stayed at the doorway

🦇 What he did not expect was to see the Manor burning with you standing out front with a small bag of things

🦇 He ran up to you and watched as you smiled at him while he looked at the hair-clip your sister once wore, and he put two-and-two together

🦇 You killed the brothers to avenge your now-deceased sister, and you stood outside awaiting him for around an hour, just watching the Sakamaki Manor burn with a small grin on your face and tears running out your eyes

🦇 Carla never thought he'd love you anymore, but apparently, he could

🐺 Shin was not amused when you turned him down, he was one of the founders of their species! How could you turn him down?!

🐺 He never took into thought about the brothers you lived with, the ones that Shin always found annoying and 'far to arrogant to be in your presence'

🐺 Like his brother, Shin knew the brothers would not be able to fight against him one-by-one, but if they were to join forces? It'd be a struggle for both sides

🐺 He gave you a few weeks to figure everything out, and he was pacing around his home awaiting you to send him a letter so he knew to come get you

🐺 When he heard from one of his subordinates that the human named Yui Komori was deceased, he launched up and demanded to be told about you

🐺 Carla just sighed and gave him the information, knowing no-one was going to stop him from getting there that night

🐺 Shin ran as fast as his wolf-form could take him, and when he arrived and found you leaning against a tree with a burnt-out match in your hand, he smirked

" Did 'ya burn the Sakamaki Manor down or something? "

🐺 You smirked and let a tear fall down your cheek, answering with a solid yes

🐺 He laughed and rubbed your head, causing your hair to get messy as he looked through the woods at the burning manor and he looked at you, gifting you with a very proud smile and thumbs up

🐺 Shin slept soundly that following day knowing you were in his arms and away from those perverse vampire brothers

🩹 Azusa is a very interesting case here

🩹 Like his other brothers, he knew that their 'adoptive father', Karlheinz, did not truly care about his sons, as they were just pawns in his plans

🩹 And he also knew that Karlheinz found small amounts of value in him and the other Mukami boys

🩹 He only saw you as a vessel for blood like the rest of the boys, but after watching you wrap bandages around his legs and arms from the excessive damage he does to them, he felt weird

🩹 Azusa felt like his stomach was doing somersaults over and over again whenever he saw you

🩹 When he proposed you moving in the Mukami Manor with him and his brothers, you turned him down, saying how you loved him back, but the brothers you lived with posed a threat

🩹 He understood why you were so fearful of them, they were quite violent when 'necessary'

🩹 But, his brothers and him also proved themselves violent against them as well, since they had Kalheinz's blood flowing through them as well

🩹 Unlike the previous two men, Azusa did not give you a time limit on your confession, since he knew the boys could be stubborn, and you wanted to bring Yui with you so she was safer

🩹 Azusa heard from Ruki about a fire being in the forest, so they all rushed in the direction to find you looking dead-cold at the burning Sakamaki Manor, throwing stick by stick inside to keep it ablaze

" My Love? Are you alright? "

🩹 You nodded and wrapped your arms around his form, humming his favorite song while the other boys tried figuring out ways to speak to Karlheinz about the happenings that night

#Diabolik Lovers #Dialovers #Mukami Brothers #Tsukinami Brothers #Diabolik Lovers x Reader #Dialovers x Reader #Mukami Brothers x Reader #Tsukinami Brothers x Reader #S/O! Reader #F! Reader #GN! Reader #Human! Reader #Carla Tsukinami #Carla Tsukinami x Reader #Shin Tsukinami #Shin Tsukinami x Reader #Azusa Mukami #Azusa Mukami x Reader

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rowretro · 3 months

Text

ITZY MASTERLIST

Yandere fluff angst

✧OT5✧

try again later...

✧HWANG YEJI✧

try again later...

✧CHOI JISU✧

try again later...

✧SHIN RYUJIN✧

try again later...

✧SHIN YUNA✧

try again later...

✧LEE CHAERYONG✧

More than friends

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kingmaker-b · 10 months

Text

Abandoned (1)

I really wanted to finish this one, I really did. Though I guess you could probably tell by how much effort I put into the gif itself. Sadly, it suffered from a shift in my writing style and focus. Mainly my realization that while I like media with more physical conflict, it's not translated super well on paper at least with my current skill set.

Word Count: 1.5k

Things had been uneasy in Gotham, turbulence in the sea of crime and violence wasn't unheard of.

But this... this was different. A raging typhoon had brewed underneath the filth and grime. The death of the bat revitalized the weeds of the dark seedy underbelly, growing, moulding Gotham to their twisted designs.

Rain pelted her shoulders, working into every nook and crevice it could.

A familiar neon eyesore sears bright in the horizon, the Iceberg Lounge.

Penguin needed a visit

A deep breath as her fingers coil around her grapple hook, something so familiar, yet so foreign.

Was she ready?

It didn't matter.

Gotham needed a protector.

Her grip tightens, almost forcing a grimace onto her face. Was she worried about living in her successor's shadow?

Surely not.

Her movements, deft and graceful swooping through the sky, a swipe across her wrist guarantees there are no lights on in the lounge.

Fear ripples through her as her feet collide with the skylight, her calves tighten as the glass caves underneath her boots and so does her fear.

Her eyes trace the shattered glass as it flutters like snowflakes through the cold crisp air of the iceberg lounge.

Soft and delicate.

Her cape catches the air at her command and in that instance, she feels the tension and fear hang thick in the air like toxic smoke.

There was a bat amongst them after all.

Rain pours through the ceiling like a waterfall, melting into her tension-filled shoulders.

They make the first move, but she's already won this chess match of flesh and steel.

A lunge comes from one of the dissident elements within the iceberg.

Predictable, wild and ineffective, like a Barnes opening.

As she twists her body she notices one of their friends ready a gun, a flick of the wrist and the call is answered by a Batarang. She catches the lunge with practised ease and redirects him to a more suitable target.

Exhilaration and adrenaline flood her veins like old times sake, yet she tastes something off on the horizon, gunfire echoes through the lounge.

The explosive rattle of clashing metal and wildfire sparks.

Foreboding, as it wasn't aimed at her.

Too focused on her twisting trepidation, a bad move she's forced to reconsider as she's launched over a nearby railing.

More out of practice than she thought.

Her instincts still honed to a fine edge, her grapple hook saves her.

A lifeline from a less than ideal landing.

A groan escapes her lips as her legs collide awkwardly with the floor, pain ripples through her legs, a sensation she wished stayed foreign.

A dull thud echoes across from her.

A cocky laugh escapes from its owner's lips.

"Should've stayed in retirement," probably accompanied by an annoying cocky smirk.

Yet something calls to her, begs for her attention.

Anger and rage flare to life flowing through her like coursing red-hot lava.

A cracked flickering bat-signal with a single bloody handprint.

Perhaps the raging typhoon hidden amongst Gotham's filth and grime was her.

Shin Ryujin.

You pull your red hoodie over your school uniform, a small comfort against the coiling rain cresting your skin.

A comfort nonetheless.

The last good gift from your parents.

"Yo, Hoodie," Soyeon calls, offering a tenderly lit cigarette, smoke pulling from her lips.

The embers fight desperately to stay afloat in the pool of cold weather and despair.

Concrete and brickwork, your only shield against the incumbent rain.

Though you preferred the rain over trust fund kids.

Soyeon and her gaggle of cohorts were a weird paradoxical exclusion.

Money didn't fix screw-up parents after all.

Your hand waves her off, a path best avoided.

She rolls her eyes slightly, taking another drag. Her eyes narrow across the rooftop, a glint of mischief dances in her eyes.

A barely hidden smile.

A lioness on the hunt.

"Gotta say a rebellious streak wasn't on my bingo card."

A shrug rolls through your shoulders, trust fund babies deserved it.

Even if you were technically one now too.

Your tongue scrapes across your teeth, you preoccupy yourself with your phone.

You just wanted to return to the cave, Nightwing was supposed to train you tonight.

Gunshots, spark crackle and bloom against you like the explosive dying embers of the stars in the night sky. They echo and ricochet through your ears like a dull alarm.

You're almost enraptured by the scattering flecks of metal dancing like fireflies, you had the Bat's last gift to thank for that.

Your relationship had always been tumultuous, your fists bludgeoned the unjust before you, your anger vents with each collision but you know it'll never be enough.

Your fingers itch for the guns at your hip, the easy way. But your mentor deserved respect in their death, something you wished for.

You watch as the last goon crumples before you, a solid hit to the stomach. "Stay down if you know what's good for you."

The sound of shattering glass distracts you before you can earn a response. None of the family should be here.

This was your penance and your burden.

You quickly hit your stride, bounding over and across abandoned tables and stools, you weren't as smooth or as graceful as Jiu, you were used to running through your obstacles.

Another shattering noise sends worry shivering through your spine, Jiu was supposed to be in Bludhaven. Rain poured like a river as you came across the scene, a shattered rail leading into the depths of an abyss.

Voices echo and boom across the scene, and your body aches, wishing nothing more to rampage. Yet you halt in your tracks.

"Looks like Big Boy got her," a smile blooms across the thug's features. All you can think about is lodging a bullet between his eyes. A primal urge itched at your fingers, abated only by the promise you made. "I didn't realise the original flavour was back in stock."

Anger flares through you, a beast gnawing at its tether. Your teeth grit as a deep breath soothes your lungs, water to cool the fire of rage.

Your eyes prowled over their forms, planning your assault like links in a chain.

Twenty goons all up, it wasn't gonna be a fair fight.

For them.

A flash bang and smoke grenade cocktail to get the party started, you're disgusted with the part of you that enjoys being a hunter.

You dive into the fray, your armoured boots collide with flesh as you land, the sound of broken ribs is hardly a surprise.

One down.

The smoke obfuscates you and every move you make, you'd never felt closer to your mentor than in moments like this.

An apex predator amongst sheep, you'd found it harder than any of the others to toe the line.

You fire a stray bullet, loosening one of the many gaudy chandeliers.

A whole squad is gone.

You hear the familiar bloom of bullets against your suit, the pain is nothing but a dull echo of what it should be.

Bruises instead of blood.

Sparks instead of scars.

Minor inconveniences, as you dive into the smoke. You can almost feel their palpable fear as their friends disappear one at a time.

Nothing but echoes and whispers.

The boom of your boots, a haunting siren of pain. Primal rage etched into every stomp, a beast you desperately fight against.

A flash of fear haunts the last man standing, his eyes linger on your holsters.

A deep gulp.

A gun levelled to his temple, everything in your core begs for the return of the executioner.

A raging beast tempered against a cage.

Insert line here.

The cage remains strong.

Her fingers itch capriciously against the hem of her dress shirt, her father's scoldings ring still in her ears.

The only time they really shared.

Well aside, from the times she donned the mask. But that didn't count.

She chews at her tongue, cornered by Soyeon of delinquent fame.

A small drop in the bucket of ne'er do wells she's washed over. Her fist clenches at her skirt.

"Does dear daddy the commissioner know you're here?" An infuriating smirk lines her teeth, so deliciously punchable.

Her hands were tied... figuratively of course. It'd be a simple gesture, a right hook to her smug face.

A more becoming smile.

Yet all Ryujin can offer is a weak smile as fingers lock in her hair.

"How about we do the commissioner a favour? Teach his daughter to avoid the rats in the gutter," a scowl etched into her features, her eyes haunted with a twisted sense of pleasure.

Weak without the mask, pain tickles its way through the nerves in her scalp. Her brain shifts, survival mode a must... at least for her father's sake.

She's prepared for more, a blow to the ribs or the stomach, maybe even a hook to the face.

Her eyes snap shut.

Even among the pews of her thoughts, there's a surprise when she feels a shift. With a soft... hesitant release of her scalp, her feet stumble with the sudden adjustment.

A red hoodie, a defiant grip against Soyeon's wrist.

"Cut it out," your voice is surprisingly soft, delicate even. It cuts like a knife, all the same, leveraged by your soul-piercing gaze.

#fanfic #kpop fanfic #kpop gg #kpop gg x reader #kpop x reader #kpop #kpop x gn reader #itzy #itzy x gn reader #itzy fanfic #itzy x reader #itzy ryujin #shin ryujin #ryujin x gn reader #ryujin x reader #ryujin

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carlatsukinamistolemyhamsandwich · 2 years

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Shin x reader drabble based on this concept. Trigger warning for reader being in a not terribly good headspace, deeply unhealthy relationship dynamics and violence. Also there is some vaguely implied mature content towards at the end.

***

Seated upon your throne, chin resting idly against one hand, you watched impassively as the last remaining founder in the demon world gripped the hair of one of the two dissidents kneeling before you and slammed his face into the polished stone floor. There was a sickening crack as the man’s nose impacted the ground and a spray of crimson droplets splattered against the pale grey surface.

The founder’s lips, which had been pulled into a sneer, curved up slightly, as his eye gleamed at the sick thrill of crushing someone right before your feet.

You thought you might have loved him once.

Love. The word felt strange in your mouth now, like it didn’t quite belong on your tongue. Maybe it never had. Your memories of before—before you’d had the power of a supernova poured inside your veins—were dim and only faded more with each passing day. At this point they might as well have been nothing but dreams, fleeting snapshots of a life that was now as unfamiliar to you as the joy on Shin’s face as he slammed the man’s head into the ground a second time.

You couldn’t even really remember what it was like, to feel anything other than the constant thrum of energy in your blood. In truth, you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to anymore either, not when in few clearer memories of before, your past self had been certain having a human heart was more of a burden than a boon. And as you were now, you weren’t exactly in the position to disagree.

“That’s enough Shin,” you found yourself saying, tone flat and dull as though the spectacle of watching a man have his face broken were no more cause for concern than a light drizzle of rain. You certainly saw it happen often enough at any rate. “If you render him unable to talk then it shall only prolong these proceedings. You can have your fun after we’re finished here.”

Shin let out a click of disappoint, though he did as you asked, releasing his hold on the man and letting him slump to the floor in a growing pool of his own blood. The founder didn’t make any move to return to your right hand side however, where he usually stood for less eventful meetings with various lords and noble folk, instead remaining loaming over the two dissidents like a threat.

You supposed it was so he would have no trouble stopping them should they make any move to injure you, your plans to mine them for information be damned. Not that there was any point in the gesture, they’d be dead long before they reached you without any interference from him. Then again, very few of Shin’s actions made sense to you from a rational standpoint, but for as long as he still followed your orders you saw no point in questioning them.

Turning your attention to the two men kneeling before you, you sat up straighter, shifting so you looked less an idle ruler, and more like the judgment incarnate your subjects saw you as. The hint of fear that entered their eyes as they felt the full weight of your magic and attention bearing down on them had Shin’s lips curling into a smile. For you, it simply told you this was the right tactic—if this alone was enough to cow them then it would be a very simple matter to find out exactly what they—and the others who’d allied themselves with the church—had planned. If they had any plans beyond attempting to blow you to smithereens.

Although all of that was blown right out of the window when the one who’d had his face bloodied began to spit insults at your person, only to have Shin immediately grind his face into the stonework once more. It was slow progress from there, and by the time you had the information you wanted and the two were being dragged away by some of your guards, the floor of your throne room was thoroughly stained red. There were even a couple of splatters on one of your shoes, how unpleasant.

Shin watched the two like a starving wolf eying up a particularly fat doe, and you had little doubt that once you dismissed him, it would be a very short amount of time before the two men were reduced to bloody strips in their cell. For now, he simply ordered a couple of your servants to bring cleaning supplies and be quick about it, before drawing a strip of cloth from his pocket and kneeling at your feet, wiping away the few specks of blood that had dared to reach you.

“You should have let me slaughter them and hang them from one of the balconies as a warning,” he grouched as he cleaned your shoe.

“I have no intention of making martyrs out of individuals who were foolish enough to attempt to kill me in my own residence. Besides,” you glanced at the red smeared floor, “if I am too extreme in my actions it will likely only inspire more protests against my rule. One cannot remain in power due to fear alone.”

“Hmph, they should fear you though, all of them. The way those guys spoke to you, as though they’re even worth acting as dirt beneath your feet—I’d have torn their tongues right out of their throats if you hadn’t stopped me.”

“I know,” you told him as he stood, your shoe now spotless once more. The tip of your tongue burned faintly, and you were struck with the odd notion that you should say something, something you should always say after someone has done something for you. But you couldn’t remember what in hell it was. It wasn’t like anyone really did anything for you without being ordered to these days, everyone except Shin, but that was only natural since he acted as your right hand.

You made a move to stand, taking Shin’s hand the second he offered it as you gracefully got to your feet. “I should prepare for my meeting with the head of the wolf clan, I did not intend for this to drag on nearly as long as it did.”

“You could tell him to reschedule if wanted, he has to listen to you, and I’d have no trouble beating some sense into him if he doesn’t.” Shin’s grip on your hand lingered, his thumb brushing reverently over your skin. This was another one of those things you didn’t understand. It was no secret to you that Shin found you attractive, even if on the nights he sought you out in your bedroom, he claimed it was for your pleasure rather than his own. Still though, you could understand that much, for while the power inside you had hollowed you out, physical pleasure was one of the things that hadn’t been burned away entirely.

These small gestures though, this sort of quiet intimacy that seemed to serve no purpose, were a mystery to you. As long as it didn’t distract Shin from doing his duties, then they weren’t exactly an issue so you let him have this moment, watching as his eyes travelled up your arm and then proceeded to linger on your lips.

The sight was familiar, both from recent times and before. You were aware you’d known him then, even if your head felt hazy when you tried to recall much more than a handful of scattered images.

You were sure of one thing, though—you thought he might have loved you once.

Now you weren’t sure if either of you had ever truly been capable of such a thing.

#Shin Tsukinami #my writing #Shin Tsukinami x reader #GN!reader #drabble #oh no why did this make me sad #maybe I shouldn't have been listening to sad piano music while writing it agsjhfgakj #oh dear I have to get up in like 7 hours and I still have to do chores help

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writeformesinpie · 2 years

Text

The light pulses neon in unison with the music and the beat of your own blood, pumping an echo of longing inside your head. Shifting back and forth, you try to find a comfortable position as she continues to dazzle from the stage. She’s twisting her body in ways you’ve never seen a human move before. Eyes locked on yours, she lets you know this little show is just for you.

She spins around the pole, her bare thighs warming the metal, her skin glistening. The red-laced bodysuit leaves nothing to the imagination; well, almost nothing. The six inch stilettos strapped to her tiny ankles shimmer under the lights. Her shoulder-length blue waves flutter around her face while she twirls around the pole.

Her presence demands attention and attention is what she gets. No one in the club can keep their eyes off her. They can look but her performance will have to suffice. You, however, get your own private show. Her night has been paid for in full, the goddess in front of you is yours until sunrise. Biting your lip you can’t help but think of all the things you want to make her do.

#picture this #ryujin smut #kpop smut #itzy smut #ryujin x reader #itzy x reader #kpop x reader #shin ryujin #itzy #kpop #x male reader #x fem!reader #x gn reader #writeformesinpie

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forlix · 4 months

Text

· . ˚ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞

— the little mannerisms you pick up from the members of stray kids over the course of your relationship.

words・3.7k / pairings・ot8 x gn!reader / genres・fluff, humor, borderline crack, intentional lowercase, established relationship(s) / warnings・minsung’s are suggestive, touch of anxiety in felix's, jeongin's is lowkey gross LMFAO

a/n・massive shoutout to @/http.dwaekkii on tiktok for their edits about the boys' habits, which i consulted for chan, changbin, seungmin, and jeongin (and to @astraystayyh for beta reading hehe. what would i do without u). these were sooooo fun to write, hope u guys enjoy (｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )

chan + getting shy easily. poor thing gets embarrassed so quickly as it is. throw you into the mix and it’s just critical hit after critical hit. defense lowered. no health potions left. he folds like a lawn chair with a massive smile and a whiny “stooooop” every time you say something even remotely affectionate. the habit is adorable, and you love it to pieces.

but you like poking fun at it even more. “god forbid i find my literal underwear model of a boyfriend attractive,” you’d say, or something along those lines, which of course only triples his embarrassment and on more than one occasion results in him starfishing on your kitchen floor, his hood pulled over his face.

fast forward however many months. he’s still the worst compliment-receiver you know, but you discover one arbitrary afternoon that it’s rubbed off on you.

the two of you are cuddled together on the living room couch in your usual fashion, your legs thrown over his thighs and his hands tracing absently over your shins as you relay to him something you overheard on the subway. the conversation is painfully normal. you’re almost bored. you pause to take a breath, and he murmurs, out of nowhere, in the dreamiest tone: “so damn beautiful.”

“wha—huh? what is?”

“you. your voice, your face, everything. i‘m lucky.”

your expression of bewilderment persists for around ten seconds, and then slowly, so slowly, you begin to sandwich your head between your knees, balling yourself up like a spooked armadillo. chan wonders if he should call an ambulance.

“love?” no response. “what, uh, what’s happening right now, exactly?”

no response. no response. then, hoarsely, “you can’t...say shit like that…randomly.”

he notices two things after that. one, your skin is burning hot enough to fry something upon, and two, you’ve formed a fist in the fabric of his hoodie, which you only do when you’re pretending to be annoyed at him. the puzzle pieces fall into place, and he starts grinning like a madman.

“you’re…embarrassed?”

the guttural groan you emit is more than enough of an answer, and the cute aggression that overcomes chan is fucking debilitating. he wraps his arms around you and hauls you entirely off the couch and onto his lap, littering kisses over your face until it finally resigns into a matching smile. all intent to continue feigning grumpiness erased with the drop of a hat. you drape an arm over his neck.

“you’re so good to me, channie,” you sigh helplessly. “i love you.”

“love you more, baby.” he imprints these words directly upon your lips, then pulls away, giggles. “that was very me of you, by the way.”

“i know, right? i was just about to say.”

minho + butt touching. it’s quite simple, really. if lee minho is within proximity of someone’s buttocks, he will, as he lives and breathes, make it known. will it be a coy little swat or a yelp-eliciting, full-bodied grab? nobody ever knows, not even him. the unpredictability is what makes it exciting.

but it takes a while before this starts applying to you, because the way minho touches you is…different. doting. there’s no other way to describe how he always holds the nape of your neck while kissing you, how he rests a hand against the small of your back whenever he leads you somewhere, how during the nights you can’t sleep he guides you to the place on his chest where he knows his heartbeat is loudest. he even drags you into his trademark headlocks the same way one would hold an invaluable treasure. he’s so obsessed with all of you that he never thinks to pay just your butt special attention (though it is, indeed, a special butt).

you take it into your own hands. literally.

you don’t know what prompts it—maybe you’ve simply seen minho slap his members’ asses one too many times, or maybe you’re still thinking of the specific time minho slapped changbin’s ass in passing and it fucking echoed, or maybe minho just looks especially fine in this practice outfit, a skintight tee and washed sweatpants that hug him in all the right places—but you feel a new urge today as your boyfriend swings his duffel over his shoulder, circles around the kitchen counter.

he puckers up as he nears you, silently requesting his goodbye; you give it to him, relishing for a moment in the familiar, soft plush of his lips beneath yours. then he pulls away and turns to leave, and your hand acquires its target.

“go get ‘em, tiger.” thwack!

minho jumps a foot into the air. clutches his pearls and his left butt cheek. becomes the splitting image of that perplexed blonde lady surrounded by geometry.

but when he turns around to stare at you, the smirk melting across his face betrays how he really feels about what you’ve just done. good. really good.

you, meanwhile, look genuinely confused. “it’s like it moved on its own.”

minho beams. steps towards you daintily, intentionally, like a cat catching sight of a laser beam. brings a hand to your hip, murmurs, “that’s what we’re doing now?” kisses you again, for longer this time.

you fully foresee his fingers wandering to your ass to give it a gentle squeeze, but you reach up to cuff his shoulder when it happens anyways, and his laugh vibrates against your mouth. it seems you’ll be reaping what you’ve sown from now on.

(good luck.)

changbin + the Cackle™. yes, you said something exceptionally funny. yes, you expected changbin to find it funny too. but you couldn’t expect the godforsaken noise that left his mouth as he threw himself straight into the tree planter behind you.

your mind spun with frantic questions as you helped him out of the dirt. had the spirit of spongebob just usurped his vocal cords? were you on a date with the wicked witch of the west? most importantly—

“are you well?” you sputtered, which only made him laugh harder and his laugh so much crazier, so you started laughing, too. and you were goners, falling over each other until you’d been reduced to watery eyes and sore cheeks, your giggling interrupted only by the sound of you slapping his thigh every so often, heartily enough to reverberate around the little park in which you concluded your second date.

that’s how you fall for seo changbin: laughing. with a reckless, breathless abandon you didn’t think possible. stumbling across empty sidewalks, spitting noodles across dining tables, begging for mercy on studio couches. wrestling under tear-stained comforters, starting (and re-starting) silly stories, huffing into beaming kisses. the list goes on.

you never quite get used to that chortle of his, too busy enjoying its insanity to notice how your own chuckles grow shorter and shriller, how they gradually develop an edge like the chittering of a forest dweller.

you complete your transformation on your ninety-eighth date.

no, changbin doesn’t say anything exceptionally funny. no, he doesn’t expect you to find it funny, either. he expects least of all for you to fold over the kitchen island and start cackling like cruella de vil on helium.

han turns around from his seat on the couch. chan’s footsteps come to a halt as he emerges from the bathroom. both of them have fear in their eyes as they witness your undoing.

the only thing on changbin’s face, though, is unfettered delight.

“b-baby,” he sputters with a growing smile. “are you—”

you lift your face off the marble surface and turn to face him. the entirety of your forehead and the point of your nose is covered in flour. you blow a cloud of the stuff out of your mouth like a dragon awoken from slumber.

he loses it.

the two of you make your way onto the floor in slow motion, ending in a tangled heap against the side of the counter. changbin tries to clean off the flour and smears it all over your cheeks instead. you are zero help whatsoever, smacking his bicep like that’ll help you catch your breath. your synchronized, diabolical laughter reaches every corner of the apartment. your happiness reaches every nerve ending.

chan and han look at each other, sigh. han takes a video.

hyunjin + side-eyeing. this man is so god awful at controlling his face, bless him…and DAMN HIM.

on one hand, you love how in tune with his emotions he is, how confidently he puts them on display. and you love your synergy. you come closer to believing in soulmates every time you glance his way and discover your exact feelings written all over his features; it’s a special type of happiness, sharing a brain with your favorite person in the world.

on the other hand, you think there’s a time and place for candor, and he tends, well, not to think at all. during many a precarious situation, you’ll catch him wearing an expression so transparent that he might as well arrange the words THIS IS STUPID AND I HATE ALL OF YOU over his head in neon lights. cue a dig of your heel into his toe, a hiss of pain cut short by your piercing glare. if you’d known ahead of time that dating hwang hyunjin would have you doing so much damage control…you’d still date him, let’s be real. but you do get stressed at times.

the night the tables turn, you’re at a celebratory dinner for your coworker’s birthday. small caveat: you can’t stand her. she’s the type to spontaneously combust if she goes two minutes without talking about herself. certainly doesn’t help that she’s downing champagne like water, and her lips are looser than ever.

hyunjin comes with you, fortunately. or not. he spends the whole evening trying so hard not to laugh: snorting into his bread, excusing himself to “cough.” you think he actually starts doing breathing exercises at some point. you’re so, so grateful that he’s here, but you’re also deathly afraid that he’s gonna bring out those neon lights in front of your entire office.

then, she flirts with him.

from the opposite end of the table. perfectly wasted but still knowing perfectly well that he’s yours. the whole patio goes silent. hyunjin’s jaw hits the table.

your fork clatters to your plate.

FUCK time and place.

the side-eye you give her is devastating. truly masterful. your brow furrows. your eyes turn to slits. your gaze does the up-down-up of unadulterated incredulity. hyunjin recognizes the motions straightaway and starts smiling so hard his whole face hurts.

you take your boyfriend’s wrist and stand up. he follows suit. you don’t say a thing as you leave the restaurant, and you don’t have to. the intensity of your disdain was more than enough; anything more and she might’ve started crying.

once you’re on the curb outside, hyunjin pulls on your interlocked hands, brings you close. his lips brush against the shell of your ear. you hear laughter and his smirk in his voice.

“you’re so fucking sexy, holy shit.”

jisung + how he applies lip balm. that han jisung is the pioneer of modern day babygirlism is the worst kept secret in the world. that han jisung applies lip balm the riveting way he does, however, is unknown even to you. until one morning.

you pop into the bathroom and make your usual beeline for your toothbrush, only to end up motionless in front of the sink, staring. jisung is a bit off to the side, hair pinned back by a cinnamoroll headband, eyes glued to his phone, hand holding a tube of chapstick that you can actually see getting shorter in real time. he looks so pensive, so concentrated. how long has it been since he last blinked? you’ve half a mind to pull out a stopwatch.

finally, he rubs his lips together, recaps the chapstick, and makes eye contact with you in the mirror. a smile crosses his face, equal parts confused and amused.

“baby, your mouth is open.”

you close it. then you open it again, and your words come out in a barely-contained laugh: “what on earth did you just do?”

“what do you mean?”

“the—” you point at his mouth, then do your best impression of an elementary schooler trying to color inside the lines. “—that.”

jisung looks aghast. “that was LIP BALM.”

“no, i know what it—you’re so—i meant, why do you apply it like that?”

jisung continues to look aghast. “like what?”

“like you’re one of socrates’ prized pupils and the answer to the universe’s formation lies at the bottom of—” you step in close, reach into the pocket of his sweatpants. “—this tube!”

it might be the craziest thing you’ve ever said to him. he bursts into laughter, the kind that leaves him no recollection of what he does with his limbs, and when he can see straight again he discovers he’s pressed you gently against the counter. his fingers latched around the hem of your top, his grin inches away from yours. can’t stay away from you to save his life, this one.

“do i actually?”

“yes! holy shit, it’s so cute.” your arms circle around his neck, also without an ounce of thought, also through a fit of giggles. “no way you’ve always done that, right?”

“i don’t know. i’ve never thought about it.” a pause. a tilt of his head, with purpose. “am i…doing it wrong?”

the question is a trap and you realize it too late. your gaze drops from his eyes to his lips—a ray of sunlight glistens off the pink plush like a paid actor—then back to his eyes. let’s find out.

you lean in. so does he. and his mouth tastes and feels like melted fucking sugar. it’s such a pleasant surprise that you actually moan, and he chuckles against you. lifts you onto the edge of the sink. your mind really goes empty after that, save for one thought. i have to start doing that.

felix + checking his own pulse. you saw it from afar, the first time.

he stood by the stage’s entrance just before curtain up, pointer and middle finger pressed against the side of his neck. eyelids sealed closed, chest heaving. you tilted your head, puzzled. worried. then the concert began, and you pushed the image to the back of your mind.

it returned to the forefront right before bed.

“you do it when you’re nervous?”

“yeah. forces me to ground myself. turns off the world for a bit.” the hand rubbing circles into your back paused. “wanna give it a go?”

“what, checking my pulse?”

“mine.”

you lifted your head off the pillow. felix took your hand from where it sat upon his ribs, isolating two fingers and nestling them over his jugular. his quickened heartbeat pressed into your skin like the world’s gentlest tattoo.

the sixty seconds began and concluded in total silence.

“well?” he whispered.

“ninety-three,” you answered, lightheaded from the sheer intimacy of it all. “you’re nervous right now?”

“something like that,” he hummed. pulled you down, kissed you deeply. there were no more words exchanged that night.

the habit surfaced more than you knew. while driving to visit your parents. after a stupid argument with a bouquet of flowers tucked beneath his free arm. you started doing it for him in the times he couldn’t, and he’d cover your hand with his own and kiss the top of your head silently, gratefully.

two years have passed since, and you’ve vanished from the dinner table.

felix asks the nearest waiter for directions to the restrooms. you don’t notice when the door swings open, unmoving in your spot over the sink, your pointer and middle finger pressed against the side of your neck.

his hand finds your hip. you let him turn you around and bring you to his chest; he glances at the crystalline droplets studding your lashes and falling from your cheeks. his eyes convey what his mouth doesn’t need to, not anymore.

let me.

you do.

his fingers replace yours the moment you drop them from under your jaw, the movement like clockwork. he counts your every heartbeat with unblinking concentration, his heart growing heavier the higher the number climbs.

the sixty seconds begin and conclude in total silence.

“well?” you whisper.

“hundred and six,” he answers. to his confusion, a smile pulls at your lips.

he wonders if it’s a trick of the bathroom lights when he sees the tiny box you pluck from your pocket, but there’s no mistaking the reality of the diamond ring that sits behind its open lid.

the earth slants under his feet.

“crazy.” you giggle through your tears, run your thumb over his cheekbone. “that’s how many years i want with you.”

seungmin + poking eyes(?) he’s hardly touched puppym when your voice is slicing through the living room air like a fucking beyblade.

“KIM SEUNGMIN, UNHAND HIM THIS INSTANT.”

do you have a sixth sense just for this? he throws his hands up in exasperation. “he’s literally me. i’m allowed to do whatever i want with me.”

“he’s not you, he’s our son.” you pop out of nowhere to swipe the plushie from over your boyfriend’s shoulder. “my son, if you keep this up.”

“just say you hate me and my preferred avenues of self expression.”

upside-down, he watches you dust off puppym’s face and smooch his forehead with a tenderness that makes seungmin unhappier than he lets on. you then tuck him into your jacket pocket. the little shit’s expression looks strangely smug poking out of its cotton capsule.

“i’m asking you to not gauge his eyes out, not to deliver me the holy grail,” you say. “you’ll survive.”

but then he feels your hands on either side of his face, and you lean over him like the mj to his peter, leave a kiss on the space between his eyes, too. he has zero say in the bashful smile this brings to his face.

“but why do you do that, seriously?” you mutter.

“i have no idea,” he replies. “but it’s fun. try it.”

“i’ll think about it.” you lean in again, and he nearly forgets what you were talking about in the first place when you kiss him on the lips this time. “okay, i’ve thought about it. no.”

“hate you,” he says despite the literal hearts in his eyes, and then you’re off to work.

puppym takes strikingly after his father. they have the same bangs. the same compulsively squeezable quality. the same little :3 that can only allude to sinister plottings. you’d be loath to admit that you sort of comprehend seungmin’s poking predisposition.

one night, seungmin falls asleep before you even finish your nighttime routine, and you spot in his peaceful, upturned face an opportunity.

you lie belly-down on your side of the bed. your fingers splay into a peace-sign in the air. your smile stretches further into a cheshire grin the closer you bring your hand. you’re just about to reach the ends of his eyelashes when—

“I KNEW IT!”

you almost catapult into the ceiling. then you try to make a mad dash for the bathroom. but seungmin shoots a hand around your wrist like he’s actually peter parker and pins you down before you so much as take a step. your only remaining option is to sulk about your foiled plans. (and blush, because, well, you’re under him.)

“amateur,” he tsks. “you gotta test my breathing to make sure i’m asleep first. shit’s foolproof.”

you blink at him for a few seconds. his words finally click.

now you almost catapult him into the ceiling.

“HOW MANY TIMES?”

jeongin + eating food in one bite. so you might be an instigator.

“hwuck,” he grumbles around the whole ice cream cone in his mouth, face scrunched up in a brain-freeze-induced wince. “ayee ith waz a bah iyeah.” (translation: fuck, maybe this was a bad idea.)

“you got this. just take it slow,” you urge, except he’s stopped moving and speaking and closed his eyes as if he’s descending into a deep sleep. you’re actually concerned for about two seconds, and then his jaw begins to oscillate leisurely like an elderly cow in his favorite pasture. false alarm.

after some time, he swallows, beams. “so am i the fucking best or what.”

“yeah you are,” you echo, and he swings an arm over your shoulder, plants a chocolatey kiss on your temple. the two of you celebrate his daesangs with less enthusiasm.

“when are you doing that with me, by the way?”

“the one-bite thing?” he nods. “mmm, coaches don’t play.”

“mmm, this one will.”

“doubtful.”

fast forward a few weeks and you, jeongin, and his younger brother are sitting cross-legged on the porch in his backyard. three full-sized oranges rest in the center of your makeshift circle. damn is yoon hard to say no to. (runs in the family.)

“the rules!” he declares. “eat the orange whole! first to swallow it wins! you can’t spit it out!”

you wait. “is that it?”

“yes!”

why was the delivery so grand?

jeongin places a fond hand atop his brother’s head. “i’ve brought you a new loser, yoonie. get excited.”

you feign an indifferent scoff, but jeongin spots the fire that ignites behind your eyes like that of an anime protagonist, the resolute grip with which you palm your orange. he smirks. he’s never known you to take trash talk sitting down. or sitting cross-legged on his porch.

yoon counts you off. “ready…”

“good luck, coach,” jeongin sings.

“shut up, pipsqueak.”

“set…GO!”

in amusing unison, you and yoon try and fail to fasten your teeth around even half of the fruit. jeongin, meanwhile, fits the whole thing into his black hole of an oral cavity and launches into that dumb cow impression again.

desperate times call for desperate measures.

you rip the orange from your lips. “yoon! your brother’s ticklish, right?”

both yang siblings’ eyes widen—the younger’s in growing delight, the older’s in impending horror.

the latter reacts first. “ay, ay, ay, ah ahes eh ooles!” (translation: wait, wait, wait, that’s against the rules!)

but the former moves first, and you’re right behind him.

jeongin weakens when the younger boy assaults his sides, crumples when you target the back of his neck, the sounds leaving his mouth getting progressively louder and somehow even less intelligible.

he eventually has to spit out the orange to avoid death by pulp going down the wrong pipe and spins around in indignation, wiping at his chin with the back of his hand. but his annoyance—

you’re back on the floor, gnawing hopelessly at the the orange again. “ih ih eawahin, ooh.” (translation: this is embarrassing, yoon.)

yoon replies, “huh?” (translation: huh?)

—dissipates, immediately.

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend ・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp ・ @automaticpersonabatpaper

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ryupages · 1 year

Text

itzy reaction — you calling them a cute nickname for the first time

@ryupages / xenia

genre: fluff

pairing: ot5 x reader

warning(s): n/a

note: i’ve had this request in my inbox for a long while, and never finished writing it until now 😭 anyway, i hope u all had a wonderful christmas! if you don’t celebrate, that’s ok, i hope you still had a great day <3

yeji — 예지

“darling, can you come help me with this?”

yeji got up without even processing what you just called her, walking over to see what you need help with. only when she got over there, her eyes widen and her head turned to you.

“what did you just call me?”

“..darling?”

you giggles as her cat eyes turned into the little crescent moons you love so much and she flashed you the biggest grin. she kissed your cheek then your lips, mumbling that she loves you.

—

lia - 리아

“hi, honey! how was your day?”

a tired but soft smile spread across lia’s face at the cute name you called her. if she wasn’t so tired, she would’ve freaked out more since you always called her by her name.

slightly hunched over, lia made her way to the couch and pushed you down. you smile as she crawled on top of you, placing her head on your chest.

“call me that more often,” she mumbled, burying her face deeper in your chest as her eyes failed to stay open.

you nodded, and she fell asleep with a smile on her face.

—

ryujin — 류진

“ryujin!”

“shin ryujin!”

…

“angel?”

after about 10 minutes of trying to get her attention, that finally got her to look at you. she smirked at you and walked over to you, leaning down close enough that your noses were almost touching.

“fine, you have my attention,” she smiled before kissing you softly. “but only if you keep calling me that.”

—

chaeryeong — 채령

“princess, i’m going to the store!” you called out, slipping on your shoes and grabbing your keys.

chaeryeong looked over at you from the couch, her heart racing at the new name you called her. she sat there just staring at you as you grabbed your purse.

before you walked out the door, she quickly got up and put on her shoes as well. she looked at you with a shy grin.

“do you mind if i go with you?”

you smiled, already knowing the nickname had an effect on her.

—

yuna — 유나

“my love, can you come and help with this assignment?”

you don’t know where she got the sudden speed but she was already at your side by the time you finished the sentence.

you glanced up at her from your seat, eyes wide open at how eager she looked. chuckling, you push it aside and start explaining the question you were stuck on. after a moment, you realized yuna wasn’t saying anything. you looked up at her again to see her intensely staring at your lips.

she smirked before leaning down and kissing you gently. when she pulled away, her face was flushed as her grin only grew in width.

“this assignment can wait, can’t it? come cuddle and watch a movie with me.”

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generalsmemories · 11 months

Text

Admiral, the general is touch-deprived.

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ based on the ask: "Please do one if you haven’t where Jing Yuan is severely down bad for reader and makes it known to everyone and they are just done with him"

✧ content: established relationship, fluff, make-out scene, humor, mentions of other characters

✧ a/n: where did almost 100 of you come- bless this ask for making me write needy jing yuan i love you. not beta-read again anyway buckle up this is another one of unfiltered shame for my love for one mere general with a silly thunder lord that he nicknamed shin-kun in the jp dub because the official title was way too long for this old man.

this was written in a google doc on the phone since I'm on vacation so I apologize if the formatting is messier than the first post 🫡

There's tension in the air.

"... As for Stargazer Navidia, there seems to be another onslaught of mara-struck cloud knights making their way within the area in the next few days. I'll appoint Lieutenant Yanqing to lead a few troops there by the next hour, but be sure to send a messenger cycrane if the situation gets too out of hand or you need to divide the troops up to cover more ground."

You hear a loud "Yes!" as you flip over to the next page, quickly scanning through the documents contents, purposefully ignoring the tension in the air, muttering the details lowly to yourself with a furrowed eyebrow.

It's the sort of tension you wish everyone just ignored, even though it's more difficult than it sounds.

Perhaps being fed up with your avoidance of ignoring the elephant in the room, one of the captains of the Knights loudly cough into the air before meekly addressing you, "Admiral [Name]?"

"Yes?" you look up with a smile, cocking your head to the side. A small gesture to ensure the captain that they have your full attention which makes the knight before you quickly glance to the side and away from you, although that didn't help the pair of eyes boring a hole into the side of his head, "The general…" he starts, coughing once again while glancing back and forth at you and the weapons displayed at the seat of Divine Foresight, "... Would very much like your attention, it seems."

As if on cue, the arms that were wrapped around your waist squeeze a bit tighter than normal. The sudden pressure makes you let out a grunt of surprise while Qingzu lets out another exhausted sigh. Meanwhile you glance down to lock eyes with Jing Yuan, who very much is staring at you with a small pout evident on his lips, "Oh so my darling has finally acknowledged my existence?" he jokes with a grin, meanwhile you merely stare down back at him with a neutral expression before resting your left arm carrying the paperwork on his gray head. The general uses the opportunity to nuzzle his face into your waist, playfully biting into an exposed part of your skin from where his hand had wormed itself underneath your shirt, making you squirm away from him, to which he immediately grabs your back into his hold.

"If you haven't noticed dear, you're practically leeching onto me to the point I can't even stand at my usual side, that is to per say in front of the desk and not literally quite next to you and within your arms." You whisper to him gently. Flicking his forehead before whipping your head around to address the Cloud Knights before your husband can say anything in his defense.

You ignore the looks of disbelief on some of the soldiers' faces.

"I apologize for the awkwardness this position may cause, I can only hope for your understanding being that I've been away from the Luofu for a few months helping Marshal Fua with some matters at her fleet. I've only recently come back." you explain, gesturing Qingzu over to hand over the paperwork to her before waving your hand with a guilty smile, "You're all dismissed, please be safe out there."

"Lady Fu Xuan, how may I be of assis-"

"Are you two arguing or something?" Fu Xuan interrupts before you can even finish your sentence which leaves you staring wide eyed at her with your mouth agape, "Pardon? I'm not quite sure who you're referring to-"

"The general. I'm referring to general Jing Yuan, who else would I be referring to? He sits around the seat of Divine Foresight like a kicked puppy. Which makes it even harder to get any information in OR to him because he's not even mentally present! Can you fix him? Wonderful! Let's make haste to the seat."

You're not even allowed to finish your cup of tea or give an answer before the divination commissioner grabs you by the forearms and drags you out of the teahouse.

"Jing-" you haven't even taken one step into the seat of Divine Foresight before you're surrounded by the familiar scent of your husband. A gentle hand placed by your head while an arm is tightly wound around your waist. You can practically feel the smile of utter glee on Jing Yuan's lips as he buries his face into your hair.

"Darling, I thought you had the day off today?" he mutters into your hair, sounding a bit too happy to have you in his arms again to the point he's ignoring the death glares from Fu Xuan besides you, the divination commissioner just wanting to do her part of keeping the Luofu afloat.

"I was having my day off, before Lady Fu Xuan here dragged me out because someone didn't-" you struggle free to nag at him, but your husband merely smiles softly at you before lifting your chin to give you a quick kiss, "Now that you're here I feel more energized than ever, let me finish the paperwork for today and I'll join you, we can even play a round of starchess." he suggests.

You can practically sense Fu Xuan roll her eyes in disgust, able to hear her mutter about a "lovesick fool" before walking past the two of you, Jing Yuan merely grabbing your hand to lead you towards the seat.

So much for a day off.

You can't breathe.

"Jing-" another press of his lips onto yours as you find yourself pressed on the wall beside the door, "Yanqing-" you manage to breathe out when finally able to pull a tiny bit away from him. Pressing your hand over whatever surface of his face you can reach to try to shove him away, your other hand occupied with bracing itself against the wall.

Your husband ignores your literal hand on his face, somehow having more strength to still slant his lips across your own despite your efforts, the hand he has behind your head pushing you further against him while he shoves a leg between your own to keep you still, "Train-"

There's a rather loud set of knocks on your bedroom door followed by an exasperated sigh coming from behind it, which makes you freeze but Jing Yuan ignores it, sliding his tongue over your teeth while you resign yourself to slam your fist repeatedly on his back to get him to back off.

"General! I know you missed [Name] a lot during the months they were away from the Luofu, but you know that today is supposed to be a training day!" Yanqing shouts from behind the door, and you feel sorry over the realization he's aware of what's happening beyond it.

Feeling sorry enough for Yanqing whose probably already waited 15 minutes before knocking at the door, you muster whatever little strength you have left against your husband's addictive lips to grab his ponytail and yank him off and away from you.

Jing Yuan merely grunts in irritation, looking at you with a glare and swollen lips, but you ignore him. Opening the door before Jing Yuan can grab you again and giving Yanqing an apologetic look, "I tried-"

"It's better than last time, at least." He points out to which you merely sigh before opening the door wider, "I'll give you more pocket money this month, how's that for compensation?" You suggest, shoving your husband out the door before he do anything else, Yanqing smiling in triumph at your generosity.

"You're the best! Give me extra if I manage to land a few hits on the general?"

"5 more than usual and I'll give you an extra thousand." You settle, tapping Jing Yuan on the shoulder. Your husband turns around to face you with a hum, and you lean in to peck him on the cheek, gliding your lips over to his ear, "If you're a bit nicer to him today you'll also get a reward."

Needless to say, there were two very happy boys onboard the Luofu at the end of the day.

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail x you #star rail x reader #hsr x you #jing yuan x reader #x reader #reader insert

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