#...to be me forcing someone else to watch it with me

[lotuswish]

˗ˏˋ what loving you feels like to them (pt. 7 - diasomnia) 𓆩𓆪 .ᐟ

synopsis: have you ever wondered what falling in love feels like for each twisted wonderland boy? this series explores love from their perspective— how their personalities, experiences, and desires shape what loving you means to them. follow me to see the next part!

featured character(s): malleus draconia, lilia vanrouge, sebek zigvolt, silver.

content warning(s): none

a/n: woo, the final part of this series! after two months of writing, rewriting, proofreading, and endlessly nitpicking, it’s finally complete and posted—feels good to wrap this up! what loving you feels like to them might occasionally use the same words, but those words mean something a little different for each of them. it might sound familiar, but it's still their own!

malleus draconia

loving you feels like a paradox to malleus draconia—both a yearning ache and a soothing balm, a forbidden fruit and the sweetest blessing he never dared to imagine for himself. it’s a sensation so foreign yet so natural, like finding a home in a place he never knew existed. for someone who has lived centuries surrounded by grandeur yet plagued by solitude, loving you is both the most terrifying and the most precious experience of his life.

he has lived a life of solitude, surrounded by awe but never companionship, respect but never intimacy. his world is vast, his power nearly limitless, but it has always felt empty, a hollow kingdom with no one to share it with. loving you feels like standing in a darkened hall and suddenly seeing it bathed in light. it is warmth where there was only cold, music where there was silence. you bring him into a world of emotions he never thought he’d have, filling his existence with vibrancy and depth.

malleus has always been feared, revered, and set apart—kept at arm’s length by the weight of his power and status as the heir to briar valley’s throne. loving you feels like unlocking a door that had always been closed, revealing a world he never thought he could enter. you treat him not as a king, a fae, or a being of immense power, but as simply malleus. the way you meet his gaze without fear, laugh in his presence, and speak to him as an equal fills the void within him he never even fully understood. your love is a bridge between his world and a life of connection he thought was forever out of reach.

but loving you is also a quiet fear, one that coils in the depths of his heart. you are fragile, mortal, fleeting. he knows that time, the same force that has shaped him and his long life, will inevitably seek to take you away. this knowledge makes every moment with you feel both infinitely precious and heartbreakingly finite. it makes his love intense, protective, and almost reverent. he finds himself holding you closer, memorizing every detail, every breath, as though he can somehow defy the inevitable with sheer will.

loving you feels like the answer to a question he’s been asking for centuries, a fulfillment of a longing he could never put into words. it’s bittersweet and overwhelming, but it’s a gift he cherishes beyond anything else. you are his greatest treasure, not because you belong to him, but because you choose him. and he, in turn, chooses you—fully, completely, and forever.

lilia vanrouge

loving you feels like eternity to lilia vanrouge—a thread woven into the centuries of his long life, yet distinct and irreplaceable in its brilliance. it’s a reminder of the beauty in fleeting moments, something he’s come to cherish after watching so much of the world change, break, and fade with time. for someone who has lived longer than most can fathom, loving you feels like a rarity, a spark that rekindles the part of him that thought he had seen it all.

to lilia, love has always been a complex, bittersweet thing. he’s seen how fragile it can be, how it can grow and flourish yet wither all the same. but loving you doesn’t feel like a burden or a fleeting indulgence—it feels like a choice he makes every day, one he makes joyfully. it’s the way you challenge him, intrigue him, and bring a warmth to his heart that he hasn’t felt in ages. loving you feels like finding something entirely new, even in a world he’s walked for centuries.

loving you awakens his playful side even more. he teases you, relishing every laugh, every flustered reaction, and every small moment you share. but beneath his jokes and mischief, there’s a depth to his affection—a steadfastness that reflects the wisdom and loyalty he’s cultivated through the ages. for lilia, love isn’t just passion or fleeting excitement; it’s a quiet certainty, an unshakable bond that weaves itself into his life with a permanence he never thought possible. loving you reminds him that while his life is long, it’s the connections he makes that give it meaning.

there’s also a protectiveness to his love, though it’s never overbearing. lilia understands the fragility of life better than most, and it makes him treasure you even more. he knows that time is fleeting for some, but he refuses to let that deter him. instead, he chooses to savor every moment with you, to live in the present and create memories that will endure in his heart, no matter what.

loving you feels like a song—a melody that lingers long after it’s played, something he hums to himself even when you’re not around. it’s sweet and playful, with notes of melancholy, but above all, it’s unforgettable. loving you is his way of defying the inevitability of time, of saying that no matter how many centuries pass, there are things worth holding onto, and you are one of them.

sebek zigvolt

loving you feels like duty and devotion entwined for sebek zigvolt.

sebek has always lived his life with purpose, driven by an unwavering loyalty to malleus draconia and the ideals of the briar valley. to love someone romantically is an unexpected experience for him—one that initially conflicts with the sense of duty that has defined his existence. yet, loving you doesn’t feel like a betrayal of that duty; instead, it becomes an extension of it. loving you is another cause he throws himself into with all the ferocity of his spirit. it is both a challenge and a privilege, one he approaches with the same intensity and focus that he dedicates to all things important in his life.

to sebek, love is both a challenge and a revelation. it’s not easy for him to reconcile his affection for you with the unyielding focus he’s maintained toward his goals. at first, loving you feels inconvenient, like an unwelcome distraction from his responsibilities. he struggles to understand it, to put it into words, because he has always prioritized duty over personal desires, leaving little room to reflect on his own wants. but the longer he spends with you, the more he realizes that loving you isn’t a weakness—it’s a strength. it pushes him to be better, not just as a knight or a protector, but as a person.

loving you also brings out a side of him he rarely shows—one that is quieter, and deeply earnest. it’s in the way he fumbles over words when he tries to tell you how much you mean to him, the way he blushes fiercely when you catch him staring, and the way he trains even harder because he wants to be someone you can rely on. his love for you is almost overwhelming in its intensity, but it’s also pure and steadfast, a reflection of the unshakable loyalty that defines him.

but loving you is not without conflict. sebek struggles to reconcile his pride and his affection, often fumbling to express his feelings in a way that doesn’t betray his dignity. his words may come out louder or harsher than intended, his actions more grandiose than necessary, because he does not yet know how to soften for you. still, his love is earnest, as unwavering as his loyalty to the draconias. you teach him that love is not about perfection, that it’s okay to be flawed, to grow, and to lean on someone else.

loving you feels like finding balance. it doesn’t take away from his loyalty to malleus or his pride as a knight, but it reminds him that even the strongest warrior needs moments of rest, that even the most disciplined heart deserves happiness. for sebek, loving you is a fire that burns steady and bright, not dimming his resolve but giving it new purpose. you are his anchor and his inspiration, and he loves you with all the intensity of his being.

silver

loving you feels like peace to silver, a quiet but profound warmth that wraps around his heart and stays with him, even in the stillest moments. it is not something he sought out or expected, but something that came naturally, like the first light of day creeping over the horizon. for silver, love is not loud or dramatic; it is calm and unwavering, a feeling that settles deep in his soul and grounds him in a way nothing else ever has. it feels like solace, a rare and precious thing in a life that has always been shaped by duty.

loving you feels like clarity. silver has always lived with a sense of purpose, devoted to his training and his role in protecting malleus draconia. his focus has always been outward, on those he serves, but loving you shifts something inside him. for the first time, he feels like he’s allowed to focus on himself—not in a selfish way, but in a way that makes him realize he is more than his duty. with you, he feels seen for who he is, not just as a knight or a protector, but as a person. and in that, he finds a quiet kind of joy.

but loving you is also vulnerable for him. silver is not used to putting his feelings into words; he is a man of action, not flowery speeches. he shows his love in the way he listens, in the way he instinctively stands closer to you when he senses danger, in the way he remembers the little things that make you happy. for silver, love is something he expresses through quiet gestures rather than grand declarations, but it is no less profound. in fact, it feels deeper because of its simplicity, like an unspoken understanding between you.

loving you feels like balance. silver has always walked the line between the human and fae worlds, a child of both but also of neither. with you, he doesn’t feel like he has to choose. you accept every part of him—the human side that longs for companionship and the disciplined knight who feels an unshakable sense of duty. your love doesn’t ask him to change or to prove himself; it simply asks him to be. and in that, he finds a sense of belonging he didn’t realize he was missing.

for silver, loving you feels like rest. it feels like finding a place where he doesn’t have to stand guard, where he can let his guard down without fear. it’s steady, like the rhythm of his heartbeat when you’re near, and gentle, like the warmth of the sun on his face. it is a quiet love, but it is deep and unshakable, and he treasures it as one would a dream they never want to wake from. with you, silver has found something worth protecting—not out of duty, but out of love.

congrats on making it to the end! if you enjoyed this, likes, comments, follows, and reblogs are always appreciated—they help motivate me to keep creating and sharing!

[justasimpleton-26]

Hmmm, I'd like to try my hand at this!

Idiot, Idiot, Idiot. Jason thinks to himself. At least he thinks he does, because Dick pinches his arm and shakes his head.

Jason makes sure not to stare too long at Dick because then the toxin he accidentally inhaled will make Dick look like a melted-face puddle and Jason is pretty sure it's bad enough he has to deal with the giggling maniacs of the Joker.

The Joker, who stands in that corner, and watches Jason like a hawk.

Jason wants to leave. Twice or three times he's tried to escape the Batcave, but either Damian finds him (the scared 14 year old who tries to play it off), Tim does (the 19 year old who's jittery from nerves or coffee), or Dick does, the ever patient 25 year old who seems to be the only one that can touch Jason, without Jason screaming in hysterics.

"How much longer?" Damian asks. Or maybe it's Bruce.

Jason can't focus on one of them too long without their faces turning into twisted, Joker versions of themselves.

"Wow, little bird. They seem to really care for you...now." Joker says, as he taps the back of Jason’s head with...not a crowbar, it's too soft. Maybe his cane. "But I didn't see them when I invited you over to play."

"Stop...just...stop." Jason says, his voice hoarse. Was he screaming? When was he screaming?

Jason sits on the couch, curled up into himself. He doesn't care if he looks ridiculous, whatever it takes to not have the Joker focused on him, Jason will do it.

"Now, boy wonder...wanna hear a joke?" Joker asks, his voice right next to Jason’s ear.

"Lay it on me." Jason replies, weary. He doesn't understand how though the Lazarus pit healed him...he can still feel the pain on his body.

"Lay what on you?" Bruce asks, his voice even.

"That was rude, Bats. Birdie, tell the Bat to be nice or you'll be the one filled with strife." Joker said, tapping Jason’s shoulder. This time, it was the crowbar.

Jason, with tired reluctance, relays the demand.

Jason doesn't bother to look up if Bruce listened or not. His gaze sticks to the floor, that was supposed to be cement but for some reason is nothing but wriggling maggots.

"Like a coffin." Jason whispered to himself, and that makes Joker laugh.

"Hey birdie, you ever seen the living Deadman? No? You should, you own a mirror!" Joker laughed maniacally, Jason letting out a weak chuckle.

Okay, that one was pretty funny.

"What was the joke?" Dick asked, and Jason spares a glance at his older brother. Dick's face remains the same for a bit and Jason takes in a shaky breath.

"Tell them the joke, Jason. I'm sure they're DYING for a laugh as well." Joker orders, and Jason forces his gaze up, looking over at all of them with a forced calm.

"Joker asked me if I've seen the living Deadman. When I said no, he replied with I should have, I own a mirror." And Jason laughs, laughs so hard, it hurts his stomach and he's near tears.

"That's dark, Jay." Tim says, and Jason wipes his eyes.

"Oh, Timbers. I gotta laugh at his jokes. Or else he'll throw a tantrum and that crowbar will be wedged between my skull." Jason explains, Joker slapping Jay on the back.

"Just trying to turn you into the headless horseman." And again Joker laughs, and again Jason laughs, holding on to his stomach as a pain makes him gasp for air.

Someone steadies him, Jason trying to pull free. But goddamn, if his stomach doesn't hurt like a bitch.

"Get the bucket! Get it now!" Someone shouts, shoving a metal gray bucket under Jason’s face.

Jason vomits his lungs out, the acrid taste in the back of his throat forcing him to spew out even more. He's broken out in a sweat, staring at the Joker who's laughing at Jason’s pain, all the time, EVERY TIME.

When he's done, he feels lightheaded and so tired, leaning back on the couch. A cold rag covered his forehead and eyes, his breathing shallow and fast.

There's a prick on his arm and he passes out.

There's a pounding in the back of his eyes when he wakes up. Jason is back in his room and his body feels so heavy.

"Holy...crap." Jason says, trying to sit up.

"Take it easy, son." Bruce says, Jason moving his head to stare at him.

Bruce looks tired...haggard. And it looks like he's been sitting on that chair all night.

"Dad?" Jason croaks out, his mouth dry and his tongue heavy.

"I'm here Jason. I'm here." Bruce replied, patting Jason on the knee.

As Bruce comes into focus, others move. Dick stands next to Bruce, followed by Tim then Damian.

Damian actually looks like he's been crying. This alarms Jason. Very rare has he seen the teen cry.

"Who died?" Jason asks, and Damian shakes his head, Dick putting a hand on Jason’s shoulder.

"No one. No one at all." Dick assures.

Jason’s not sure why they're being affectionate or what happened yesterday.

But he decides to accept it.

Nothing wrong with a bit of affection from them.

I awfully need a fic, where Jason gets drugged by a big dose of fear toxin and starts seeing Joker's hallucination around — kind of like Bruce in Arkham Knight game, you know — and everyone is just... confused what to do with all of it?

They can't really produce antidote because it would fuck up his mind more, so he is stuck in the cave for the next 24 hours, and no one is leaving, because they can't allow Jason to go through this alone. Again.

Jason tries to put a brave face of course (god, he is THE Red Hood, one of the most influential people in the Gotham, he can't be afraid of a stupid clown–) but the more hours pass, the less he can control his fear or anxiety. Instead of pacing around like a ghost — he did that in the first four hours — he sits down on the couch, hugs himself, and starts answering to Joker?

Yeah, he knows he is not real. He understands that feeding hallucination with conversations will not help — and Dick, the ultimate expert in handling hallucinations, really, gave him some tips on what to do — but he can't just ignore it now.

He is too scared.

He remembers what comes if he flips off Joker or stops playing by his rules, alright?

"Knock, knock!"

Joker's face is as pale and terrifying as Jason remembers it to be. And maybe it is hallucination, but he still can feel his panted, hot breath on his ear.

He is alone, of course. Or not entirely alone, but others would notice if Joker was really here, right?

"Who is this?" He whispers, sensing his family tensing a little, not being sure what to expect.

Jason either argues with his hallucination or asks to stop. Or maybe just wordlessly scraps on his temples or cheek, in the place the J scar used to be, before the Lazarus Pit erased it from his body completely, leaving no traces.

"The stray dog that can't bark! Do you know why it can not bark, Jayjay?"

"I don't fucking know," he murmurs, but the fiericness with which he screamed at this man for hours now is gone; he sounds tired even to his own ears, and it is embarrassing. "Tell me."

"Because I broke its bones with a crowbar, silly!~" Joker shakes his shoulders, and Jason can practically feel the familiar ache of shattered bones. "It– Ahahah, it is too hurt to bark! It can only whine!"

Jason laughs.

His facial expression doesn't really change — he is still frowning a little — but he laughs with a painful wheeze. Joker is pleased enough to sigh dreamily in his ear.

Good job, Jason.

"What so funny?" Dick asks carefully, a patient smile on his face — he has been trying to distract him with conversations the most; Bruce prefers to keep his silence, and Tim thinks accidental physical touches help more than talking.

"He just said a joke," Jason shrugs weakily.

"Tell it to them," Joker orders. "Let us all laugh."

He doesn't really want to. But he can't disobey. He can't allow himself to die again, and–

"Knock, knock," he clears up his throat.

"Who is this?" Tim echoes, turning his chair to him, smart eyes scanning him up and down.

"The stray dog that can't bark," Jason tugs the tips of his own hair. "Do you know why it can not bark?"

Bruce tenses in his chair. He tenses in a way, Jason thinks, he already knows this joke; he has already heard it before. He almost looks as if he wants to stop him, cut mid-sentence.

But for some reason, he doesn't.

"Uh, why?" Dick tilts his head.

"Because my– its bones are broken," Jason stutters. "You know, dogs can't really bark when they are hurt? Just whine."

He can't bring himself to laugh again, even though Joker keeps giggling over and over.

"That's not funny, Jay," Tim murmurs.

"Yeah. I guess it isn't. But if I don't laugh, he'll get the crowbar again, and I really, really want to keep barking," Jason smiles.

He tries to ignore pitful glances of his family members, and the torture continues. No one breaks his bones this time, but Jason still whines when Bruce hugs him by the end of the night, pressing to his chest.

Joker is not here anymore, but Jason still can hear his taunting whisper, somewhere in the back of his head.

You will die his son.

[docdudo]

Hybrid 141 As Parents - Foster Human Child!Reader (Part 13)

Goddammit, you never felt this small before. Sure, all hybrids are twice or thrice your size, but why do you feel this way only now that you were standing in front of Johnny's kneeled down form?

He was kneeling down. Kneeling down. And was still bigger than you standing up.

He was large too. All of them were, really. Men as buff as them naturally had large bodies—it was impossible not to notice that their arms were as thick as your torso.

So....

How exactly were you supposed to fight with him?

It's a play fight, just a play fight, but still, you didn't know what to do. This was insane, how could someone like you fight with a werewolf his size...? And he wanted you to "mess him up"??

You should've suggest playing UNO instead, this is torture.

"Mhm.... I-I... dunno what to do...?" You mumble, uncertain. Your eyes flick to his form—the way excitement buzzes through him, his tail wagging fast behind him, ears pressed flat against his head. His toothy smile never wavering.

Big canines too, bigger than Ghost's.

"It's easy, lassie." He cooed, voice more controlled and calmer than what his body language was showing. "Come on, ya trust papa, right? Papa will never hurt ye."

"I don't know how to fight...." You insist, frowning a little in worry, still shuffling quietly in front of him.

“Don’ have tae. Wha’ does a wee pup ken?” He snickers, rolling his eyes as his accent gets stronger out of nowhere. “Ah just like ma kids messin’ me up! Ye can bite, scratch, or anythin’ else, really. Ah can take anythin’, ye wee runt!”

You hesitate, still looking over his form in worry and confusion. You didn't even move from your position, just holding onto your hoodie as you rubbed your socked feet with each other.

Johnny’s excited, competitive demeanor softened a bit as he sized you up, his tail wagging less and his ears perking up again.

“C’mere, puppy, c’mere… pstpst, it’s alrigh’…” He cooed gently, beckoning you closer with a small hand gesture. “Come tae papa, he’ll teach ye everythin’, aye?”

You blushed in embarrassment at his attitude, letting out a quiet sigh as you approached, still clutching the sleeves of your hoodie.

He immediately flashed you a big, toothy grin—sincere, yet still intimidating. His dangerous demeanor remained as scary as ever. Honestly? He looked kinda insane.

And then—

Big hands grabbed you, making you gasp in surprise as he took you down onto the mat. Technically, he just kinda grabbed you and eased you onto your back, but still—you weren’t expecting it! It was fast.

“Down ye go.” He smiled in a terrifying mix of gentleness and smugness. “Now what, wee bonnie baby?” His tone was pure challenge.

You stared up at him with wide eyes, frozen for a few seconds. His big palm rested gently on your chest, fingers spread just enough to frame your neck as he held both your shoulders down with one hand, caging you in. His feral eyes and sharp grin never wavered as he loomed over you, kneeling like a true predator.

You breathed in shakily at the thought, both small hands coming up to grasp his wrist, trying to gently push his hand away. Your legs curling up close to your chest.

“Don’ let him pin ya down.”

Ghost’s voice immediately caught your attention, making you turn your head on the mat to glance at him sideways on the edge of the mat. He stood with his arms crossed and a serious expression on his face, watching closely.

“Aye, runt, why’re ye lettin’ me pin ye down?” Soap teased again, one of his fingers gently rubbing your cheek from where he held you against the mat.

You bit your lip at the provocation, anxiety creeping back in. You pushed with a bit more force, trying to make his hand move, but weakened your grip when he laughed mockingly, leaning his head down dangerously close to yours.

“Look at this… nae claws at all, such cute wee fingers… trimmed nails and all, eh, wee baby? Price was talkin’ ‘bout ye humans… how we’ve gotta keep ye groomed right—short nails on hands an’ feet, brushed wee teeth, and trimmed hair… are all humans frail wee thingies like ye, runt?” He snickered, a broad, teasing smile stretched across his face.

"Big talk for a dirty mutt." Ghost joined in, voice low and raspy as he steaped on the mat, feet covered in black socks.

You immediately tensed up in worry at his tone, eyes widening as your body locked up. It sounded harsh, and for a moment, you genuinely feared they might start arguing right then and there.

But...

Johnny just laughed it off, his smile still wide, his hand still pressing you down against the mat as he kept an eye on Simon entering the mat from his peripheral vision.

“Are ye gonna get in the way, Si?” Soap asked menacingly, tilting his head slightly, baring his teeth at the other man.

“No. I don’t plan on fightin’ ya. I’m here for the kid.” he answered simply, dropping heavily to his knees by your side. "Come on, fledgling. His fingers are wide spread, tuck your hands under them."

You blinked up at him, stunned for a few seconds, before quickly glancing back at Johnny’s hand. Letting go of his wrist, you forced your hands under his fingers, slowly but surely lifting it off your shoulders and chest.

Sure, Johnny wasn’t putting much strength behind it, and he was still cooing at you the whole time, but you managed to take his hand off of you, only for Simon to roughly shove Johnny down onto the mat.

“Hey!” Soap laughed, falling onto his back, his elbows holding his body up.

"Go, up, come on." Simon nudged you, pushing your sitted form in Johnny's direction gently.

You got to your feet, slightly unsteady, feeling the gentle push of his hand that made you tumble on top of Soap, who was just staring at you with a smile.

“Hurt him. Go for his neck.” Ghost instructed, arms crossed as he watched you both.

“Wi’ these wee hands?” Soap cooed mockingly, his hand coming up to gently grab yours and rub with his thumb.

Ghost sighed quietly at your lack of reaction, watching you sit on top of Soap’s waist, your hand held in his, looking uncertain. Truly, zero instincts with this one.

“Gaz was right… it really does feel like when we had only newborns.” Soap laughed quietly, messing slightly with your hand, moving it around. “Ah used tae put them on ma chest for tummy time, too.”

You frowned slightly in confusion at that, head tilting slightly to the side.

"What's that...?"

“Oh, it’s—Ah mean…”

Even though Johnny was still smiling, he frowned a bit too, apparently caught off guard by your question. Or at least, that’s what it looked like. For a moment, it even seemed like pity crossed his face too.

“It’s when ye put babies on a soft surface, belly to the ground, and leave ‘em there. Helps ‘em strengthen their bodies so they can start crawling later on,” Ghost explained calmly, pushing you up slightly higher against Soap. “Now, come on, try to hurt him. He can take it.”

You still hesitated at that, unsure about actually trying to hurt one of your foster parents. Still, you sighed quietly before grabbing the hand that was holding yours and pushing against Johnny's face, hearing him laugh.

"Yeah, that's not going to do much." Ghost commented dryly.

Before you could say anything else, you let out a small, surprised yelp as Soap suddenly switched places with you, grabbing your small body effortlessly and getting on top of you once again, big grin still plastered on his stupid smiling face.

This time, at least, you managed to place your feet against his chest, pushing him slightly away from your body.

"Ya ken, Price's always liked a rough fight," Soap chuckled, a smug smile on his face as his big hand wrapped around your calf. "Me too, o' course, but he's even more violent than me, if ye believe it. Big bastard roughed up everyone as a soldier, an' let all the kids rough him up right back as a parent. He loves it."

"To be fair, most of us do." Ghost nodded from his place on the mat.

"But how does a wee thing like ye plan to do it if ye dinnae even try?"

At that, your leg was quickly pulled back, your body dragged across the mat as you let out a small shriek, only to immediately laugh right after when Soap stopped pulling you by the leg.

Actually, you were so busy giggling in a mix of surprise and excitement that you didn’t notice Johnny and Simon looking at you with surprise and contentment. It took them a bit, but they finally managed to make you actually laugh.

And what a cute laugh you had.

"Guys, come on up, Price still wants to check if her cold's gone away and watch a movie!" Kyle called out from the stairs, smiling gently at the scene.

"Heard that, lass? Hope ye like cartoons, ‘cause we love ‘em!" Johnny smiled excitedly, helping you up onto your little feet.

"I actually developed a liking for them after bein' forced to watch thousands of different ones as our kids grew up," Ghost commented, tilting his head slightly to the side. "Coco's very nice. Would ya like to see it, kid?"

"I'm... not sure...." You mumble, not recognizing the name.

"Yer gonna love it, lassie! Ah guarantee!"

Part 12 /

[darkbluekies]

Can we have more Jerry content please?

"Familiar, like my mirror years ago"

Yandere!female!mafia x reader

Summary: darling getting shot reminds Jerry of memories she can't help but repress, and is now forced to face

Warnings: gore? Blood, lots of it, pain, trauma? In other words, a dark oneshot

Word count: 4.5k

She can’t believe it. The sight is enough to make her sick. Her darling, her only light in this miserable life, lying unreachable in a hospital bed with countless machines connected. How could she ever have let that happened? She’s been sitting by your bed for hours, holding your hand tightly and not looking away. She hasn’t felt a pain like this for a long time, not since her family died. Jerry tries her best to think of something else, but it keeps coming back. 

“Mom and dad are out, I’m supposed to make dinner for us.”

Yuna looks up from her homework and grimaces. She’s still wearing her school uniform. “Then we won’t eat”, she mumbles sulkily. 

“Hey, watch it.”

Yuna laughs. Jerry’s long hair is tied into a loose ponytail. She sits down on the floor beside her younger sister, watching over her while drinking from a juice pouch. Yuna’s much smarter than her, both in school and life, and that’s good enough for Jerry. She doesn’t have to be smart if Yuna is. 

Yuna lifts her head up from her math book. She looks over her shoulder at Jerry. 

“Sister, there’s a boy in my class”, she says, “and I think that he likes me. He asked me to go to the amusement park on friday.”

“Who’s this rat?” Jerry scoffs. 

“He’s the class president.”

“Oh, your academic rival.” Jerry takes a new sip of her juice. “Is he smarter than you?”

“No.”

Jerry smiles and ruffles Yuna’s hair. “I know that’s right. My little sister is the smartest in school.”

Yuna squirms embarrassedly, but her smile exposed her. 

“Before you go out with him I want to meet this little boy of yours”, Jerry says as she bites the straw. “I need to accept him.”

“He’s nice, I promise.”

“I’ll believe that once I see it.”

“Please don’t embarrass me.”

“Embarrass you? Do you think I’m a child?” She thinks for a second. “Don’t answer that.”

Yuna chuckles. 

“What about you, sister?” she asks. “Don’t you have someone that you like?”

Jerry leans her head against the wall. 

“No”, she replies and smiles. “I don’t need one. Well, are you hungry? Should we get some food?”

“What are you going to make?”

“I’m not going to cook, we’ll go out and buy something. If mom and dad doesn’t know we’re eating junk food, they can’t get mad. I’m feeling like tteokbokki or convenience store food, what about you?”

“Street food sounds nice.”

“Good, let’s go.”

Jerry stands up and goes to grab her jacket. Yuna follows. They walk out of the apartment, out onto the lit up street. The stars in the night sky twinkle beautifully. They walk side by side. Yuna’s shorter than Jerry, for now, but she’ll be taller in a year, she’s sure of that. Yuna’s only sixteen. Jerry’s eighteen. Jerry was Yuna’s age when she started doing things she shouldn’t. It had started small with skipping class, then smoking, then tealing lip glosses from the mall. And then it escalated to robbing and assaults. Jerry wondered where she would be if she hadn’t befriended the wrong people. She had never been good in school, not like Yuna, but had been good at PE. But that doesn’t matter. She has a new chance with Yuna now, to make sure that she does everything Jerry didn’t and make sure Yuna doesn’t do the things Jerry did. 

“Look what my friends got me for my birthday”, Yuna says and shows a ‘Kuromi’ plush charm hanging on her bag.

“That’s cute”, Jerry agrees. 

Yuna’s friends are the type of friends a teenage girl should have. They gossip, go out for fun, have sleepovers, late night talks. But Jerry knows that Yuna’s friends are scared of her. Ever since Jerry got kicked out of school, people have been suspecting her of things she has done. But no one has evidence. Yuna knows about the theft and the assaults, but not of the others. Jerry has made sure that no one knows that she has joined a gang. If Yuna knew, she could get hurt. That can’t happen. Yuna does everything right in life, she isn’t supposed to be involved in these things. The gang doesn’t know about Yuna either. That’s for the best. 

Seoul’s streets are empty, apart from a few people walking their dogs or out on walks. They walk to a nearby food market and buy one thing from every food stand before walking to the nearest river and have a picnic. 

“We should have gotten water”, Yuna says. 

“Go put your head into the river”, Jerry chuckles. 

“I washed my hair this morning.”

“Then thirst to death.”

“Can’t you go buy water? Please?”

Jerry sighs and stands up. 

“Fine”, she groans. “Wait here. Don’t eat everything when I’m back.”

Yuna laughs. Jerry grabs her phone and leaves. She walks to the nearest convenience store and gets two bottles of water and two ice creams. The lady behind the counter smiles at her and wishes her a good night. Jerry wishes her back. 

A cold wind brushes past her as she walks back out into the night air. For a moment, it feels like someone is watching her. Jerry looks around, but there’s no one to be seen. She frowns and hurries back to the river. Yuna has eaten all of the sausages. 

“I told you not to eat all of it!” Jerry says. “If you wanted more you should have bought them yourself. And here I got you ice cream, you ungrateful brat.”

“No, please give it to me!” Yuna laughs and reaches for the ice cream. “I'm sorry, sister, please! You can take all the remaining fish cakes, please!”

Jerry pretends to think for a moment.

“Okay”, she says nonchalantly. “I guess that works. Greedy bitch.”

She gives Yuna the ice cream. Yuna laughs and Jerry can't help but smile.

“Do you think life is pre-planned for you?” Yuna asks after a while. “As in, your fate is already decided, it doesn't matter what path you'll take, you'll eventually end up where you should be?’

“I don't know”, Jerry replies and licks her ice cream. “Wouldn't that be kind of sad, though?”

“Why?”

“If your life is already decided for you. You can't change it. What if you don't like the decided fate?”

“But what if the decided fate is the most perfect for you?”

“What would mine be, then?”

Yuna studies her. “I don't know, but I know that it isn't robbing people. I think you'd be a good psychologist.”

Jerry lifts her eyebrows. “Me? Why?”

“You're good at noticing emotions, and feeling them. You know when I'm upset without me even saying anything.”

“That's because I know you … and you're like an open book, wearing your heart on your sleeve.”

“Maybe, but you know how to make me feel better.”

“I don't think I'd be a good psychologist, unfortunately. I'd be a good mechanic, though. I'd be like a doctor but for machines. What about you? What do you think your decided fate is?”

Yuna sighs and looks out over the river. “I don't know”, she says in defeat. “I wish I knew. I want to get good on the CSAT when i have to do that, get into a good university and get a good job … but i don't know what I want to do.”

“You're sixteen, Yuna, you have time to figure it out.”

“You too. You're eighteen. You can choose something better.”

Yuna’s eyes turn to her, full of sorrow. Jerry’s heart aches. She puts her arm around Yuna’s shoulders and leans her head against hers.

“I'll figure it out”, she sighs. “Don't worry about me.”

“But I do. All the time. I love you.”

“I love you too, but you don't have to. I will figure it out. I will.”

Jerry sobs. Her body is breaking into pieces, can feel the flesh rip itself apart.

Please wake up, Y/N. Please. I can't do this.

She should have done more to protect you. She should have learned from her mistakes. She opens her left hand. A small Kuromi plush charm rests in the palm of her hand. The other hand holds onto yours tightly. The little plush stares at her with cute aggression. She wants to bury her sharp nails into its face, claw away the mocking expression. 

You couldn't leave me without a little bully, could you? When you're not here to tease me, this is.

Jerry looks up at your face and feels her body goes cold once again. You look so small, so breakable. She's afraid of squeezing your hand too tightly, worried that she'll snap it in half.

“This is my older sister Yubin.”

Jerry scans the boy up and down. He dresses well, has his hair neatly prince and styled and bows deeply. A real dream for a mother in law.

“Nice to meet you”, he says. 

Yuna pulls Jerry to the side.

“Please, can I go with him?” she whispers.

Jerry glances towards him. He twiddles with his fingers

“Okay”, Jerry gives in. “I’ll come get you at eight.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to make sure you get home safely.”

She watches her sister leave the apartment with her arms crossed over her chest.

“He seemed like a nice boy”, her mom says behind her. 

“Yeah, let’s hope that, for his sake”, Jerry mutters and walks into her room, closing the door behind her. 

She keeps herself occupied by watching a cheesy drama in bed while eating snacks. Every now and then she glances at the clock on her phone, waiting for it to be the right time.

After four episodes—and not a single kiss yet—it's finally time for her to get moving. Jerry gets out of bed and grabs her jacket. She gives her mom and dad a quick ‘goodbye’ before exiting the apartment. The evening air is crisp, the music blasting in her earpods. Her ears are always surprised by the sound, either heavy rap with skillful execution or upbeat bubblegum pop. 

She walks through lit up streets full of students taking advantage of the fact that there is no school tomorrow. Fridays being out the wildest in even the calmest of teenagers. Jerry should know.

Suddenly, the feeling of being watched enters her body again. She doesn’t stop to look around, doesn’t want to give any potential stalkers the knowledge that she’s aware. Jerry shakes it off, she always feels watched. She’s paranoid. 

She sees Yuna and the boy stand outside the gates of the amusement park. Jerry walks up to them, hands in her pockets. Yuna smiles and waves goodbye to the boy.

“I had so much fun!” she tells her as they walk.

“I can tell”, Jerry says, trying to sound unbothered but the way her lip curls upwards exposes her. “So, how much money did you waste?”

“None, actually. He paid for everything.”

Jerry raises her eyebrows in surprise.

“Oh?” She can't hide her surprise. “He did?” But quickly composes herself. “As he should.”

“I feel bad though, he spent so much money trying to win me a stuffed animal at those machines, you know? The ones with a claw? But I think they're rigged.”

“Of course they are.”

Yuna yawns and leans against her older sister. Jerry chuckles and wraps her arm around her shoulders.

“What?” she questions. “Are you tired now?”

“Yes”, she replies. “Can you carry me?”

“Fuck no, you can walk by yourself.”

“Please?”

Yuna clings onto her and stops walking. Jerry groans and lifts her up on her back, piggyback carrying her. Yuna hugs her neck.

“I think I like that boy”, she mumbles with a smile.

“If he ever hurts you I'm breaking his neck, you know that, right?” Jerry says. “No one hurts my sister.”

Yuna hugged her neck tighter. “No one gets to hurt my sister either.”

Her heart breaks. Jerry has moved away from the bed and sat down beside the window, looking out over the city. The sky is dark, lights twinkling everywhere, like stars.

There's a knock on the door. Jerry looks over, eyes swollen from all crying. Her boss walks in with a bodyguard behind him. In his hands is a colorful flower bouquet, surrounded by soft, pinkish gift paper. He glances at you before turning his eyes to Jerry.

“I came as soon as I heard”, he says and places the flowers on the chair by the bed. “How are they?”

“I don't know”, Jerry says quietly, voice not reaching more than a broken whisper. "Nobody knows.”

Her boss takes a deep breath. He's much more careful than Jerry has ever seen him. 

“If there's anything I can do, don't hesitate to let me know, ‘kay?” he says.

“Kill that coward”, she says coldly. “No, don't. Save him for me.”

“I will.”

Jerry makes the mistake of turning her eyes towards you. Your poor soul. Her boss walks over to her and, to her surprise, puts his arms around her. He has never hugged her. In the four years she's known him, he has never hugged her. She has to control herself to not break out into childish sobs again.

“I really love them”, slips out of her before she can stop herself. “Oh, fuck, what do i do?”

“You don't do anything”, her boss says. “You'll stay here and watch over them and I'll do the rest.”

He leaves shortly after, wanting Jerry to have time to herself. She can't cry in front of him, and crying is exactly what she needs.

She walks to the bed and picks up the flowers. There's a little card attached to the gift paper. Jerry opens it.

“Get well soon, Y/N, the entire organization is sending its wishes for you to heal quickly and come back to Jerry — M.”

Jerry smiles slightly. She places the bouquet in her water bottle.

A small noise is heard from the bed and she turns to see you slowly, but surely, open your eyes. Jerry feels her heart stop. She throws herself forward, getting closer to the bed.

“Y/N, babe, I'm here”, she breathes out. “Babe.”

Your eyes seem to not be able to register anything in the bright light, but as they move to see where the sound is coming from, they pupils seem to grow. They fill with tears. Jerry turns your cheek with a trembling hand and wipes it.

“It's okay, baby”, she whispers. “It's okay.”

“Jerry …”, you croak out.

She nods. Tears filled her eyes. She squeezes your hand tighter.

“My pretty baby”, she sniffles and wipes your tears. 

“It feels weird.”

“You have machines connected to you, that's why it feels weird. But they're there to help you.”

“How am I alive?”

“I don't know … it's a miracle.”

She must have someone on her side, a guardian angel … or someone that has seen it all before and couldn’t let it happen again. Jerry looks down at the little Kuromi plush in her hand, heart sinking. 

“I never thought that i would be shot”, you admit. 

“It’s my fault”, Jerry says. “I should never have let it happen. I’m an idiot … but fuck, am I happy you are alive. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t woken up.”

You look around the room, eyes stopping at the flowers. 

“Did you get those?” you ask. 

“No, my boss did”, she replies and takes out the card. “He even wrote a little message for you.”

She reads it out loud to you and breathes out in relief at your small smile. 

“I must be the first person to get that kind of message”, you joke weakly. 

“You are”, Jerry says and takes a risk at a joke. “I hope that you’re grateful, because you won’t get another one unless you die.”

“I’m not planning on it.”

Jerry smiles and caresses your cheek. “That’s my baby. You’re not dying for a long while, and I’m going to make sure of it.”

You notice the plush in her other hand. 

“What’s that?” you ask. 

Your weak hand reaches for hers, trying to get a better look at the Kuromi figurine. Jerry feels her heart stop, her body turn to ice. You knew that she had a sister before and that something happened, but not what happened, or where she is now. Too stunned to react, you’re able to take the little plush out of her hands. You hold it carefully, turning it around to get a good look at it. 

“It fits you”, you say quietly, smiling slightly.

“It wasn’t mine from the start”, slips out of her, breathlessly and unfamiliar to her. “It’s not actually mine.”

“Did you steal it from someone?” 

If only.

“No”, she says slowly. “I didn’t. It was my sister’s.”

You pull your eyes away from the charm and look at her. She has gone pale by now and stares empty in front of her. The stare reminds you of soldiers who’s seen too much and you apologize for bringing it up. 

“You don’t have to apologize”, Jerry mumbles and takes the little plush carefully. “I guess that you should know the story. If anyone should know, it should be you.”

“What was her name?”

Jerry smiles sadly. “Yuna.”

“Yuna.”

Hearing you say it breaks her heart all over again, makes it bleed into her throat. She wishes that you could have met her, and that Yuna got to met you. 

See? Jerry would have teased her. You didn’t think I would get a good partner, what do you say now? 

“You would have loved her”, Jerry says quietly, still wearing the painful smile. “And she would have loved you—adored you. She loved everything and everyone. A soul too good for this world. She never broke any rules, never did anything stupid … and when she did one time, I scolded her so bad that she never did it again.”

Jerry can see the hesitation in your eyes before you ask the question. 

“What happened to her?”

Jerry’s head pounds in pain. Blood runs down her chin, from the corner of her mouth. She wipes it with her sleeve. She really should stop getting into fights, it never ends well. Even if she wins them, she’s left with aching limbs for days to come. But the pride from a win makes her do it again, and again, and again. She usually gangs up with a few people from her gang, and go at it until they can’t anymore. But today was different, she thinks as she makes her way home, through empty streets. They smiled too much today, provoked her more than usual. When she was ready to leave, they pulled her back in with their taunting words, knowing exactly where to press to rile her up again. As if they didn’t want her to leave. It was weird, different than usual. 

Jerry drags her feet over the pavement. She will have to take a shower to remove the blood—whether it’s hers or not doesn’t matter. 

The door to the apartment complex isn’t fully closed. A small drop of blood sits on the ground. Is she bloody enough to drip? She opens the door and walks into the building, pulling herself up the stairs to the apartment. This door isn’t closed either. Jerry frowns and opens the door, walking into the hallway. She can tell, right away, that something is different. There’s a new smell in the air, one she is oddly familiar with. 

The smell of blood. 

Her heart stops, nerves crackling with panic before she runs forward, into the livingroom. 

“Mom?” she shouts. “Dad? Yuna?”

Blood covers the floor, the walls and furniture. Jerry spins around, desperately trying to find where it leads. It seems to have been smudged in all directions. She opens the door to the bathroom. Empty. Her parents room. Empty. Kitchen is empty. Her hand hovers shakingly over Yuna’s bedroom door. Please don’t, Jerry thinks as sweat runs down her back, please, please. She opens the door. The room is covered in blood. Her parents are lying across the room, blood smudges across the floor exposing that they’ve been dragged here. Their throats are slit. Jerry stumbles backwards, hand reaching for something—anything—to grab onto. Her heart seems to be everywhere in her body, beating irregularly. An ice cold, burning nausea covers her fully, like water. 

“Mom—”, she chokes out, sinking down on the floor. She can’t form a sentence, let alone an understandable one. “Dad … oh, my God. Oh, my God, oh shit.”

Her vision is blurred by tears.

A thought enters her head, and suddenly she’s on high alert again. 

Yuna … where’s Yuna?

On shaking legs, she clumsily pulls herself up and stumbles out into the corridor again. All other rooms are empty, where is Yuna? Where the fuck is Yuna?

There’s only one room left. Jerry’s. She drags herself over to her closed door, feeling like she’s going to vomit any second. After a long while of waiting, she finally opens the door, revealing her own room. Jerry screams. 

Yuna is lying in Jerry’s bed. Her school uniform is covered in blood, her black hair spread out over her face. One arm lies over her stomach, the other hanging over the side of the bed. Jerry has to grab onto her desk. Suddenly she doesn’t feel like she’s there. She can’t feel her legs hold her up.

Without noticing it, her body has moved her forward. She’s standing by her bed. Theres a folded note on Yuna’s chest. Jerry’s hands tremble as she opens it. 

“See this as a warning, bitch, next time it will be you.”

She throws the note across the room. Her heart hammers in her chest, but this time in anger. Those disgusting creatures. She can’t find words to describe them. They’re subhuman, but not even that is enough. 

She tears down everything on her desk, including her laptop and lamp amd when there’s nothing left for her to destroy, she hits herself, clawing and pulling at anything she can get her hands on. As long as it hurts. It’s her fault. She put her family in danger. Her choices led to this. She killed them. 

When her body loses power, she sinks down on the floor, shaking and crying. Jerry covers her face in her hands to avoid looking at her little sisters lifeless body. She can’t remember the last time she cried like this. It exits her body in a whine-like howl, her pain needing to come out. 

But even those end. All feelings end at some point, leaving her in a numb, broken shell. She looks towards her bed. The arm that’s hanging of the side of the bed seems to hold something. Jerry crawls over and opens Yuna’s hand slightly. Her skin is still somewhat warm under her touch. In her hand lies the Kuromi charm plush, still somewhat clean. Jerry takes it out of Yuna’s hand and holds it in hers. She hugs it, breaking out into new sobs. 

Realizing that she can’t stay here—the ones that have done this will most likely return, or the cops will arrest her for the deed—Jerry stands up. She grabs one of her black backpacks and throws in whatever she thinks that she can need before leaving the apartment for the last time. 

Your eyes are filled with tears, and so are hers. You reach forward to wipe hers and she squeezes her eyes shut. She can’t look at you. 

“I’m so sorry”, you say. 

“I can’t lose you too”, she hisses. “I fucking can’t lose you too.”

She can feel you hug her and she’s quick to remove your arms. 

“You shouldn’t move”, she says with a panicked voice. “You’re hurt. Just let the medicine and what fuck-not do it’s work, please. Just do as I say.”

You lay down again. Jerry sighs out heavily and wipes her tears harshly. 

“That’s why I joined this organization”, she says angrily. “I realized how vulnerable I was by myself. I needed people that could protect me and have my back … and I’m so fucking sorry I pulled you into it, too. I should have learned my lesson with my family, but I didn’t. I was so fucking selfish doing it again, just because I fell in love. And i could have lost you too. Ic ould have repeated my fucking mistake.”

“But you didn’t”, you say. “I’m here.”

Jerry sighs and holds out the little plush. 

“I, somehow, feel like she did this”, she says flatly. “As if she couldn’t watch me go through it again, so she saved you. Yuna died holding this charm. Somehow thinking that it would protect her … or she just didn’t want to die alone.”

Jerry has never said these thoughts out loud before. And when she does it, she doesn’t dare to look at you, scared to see a judging look in your eyes. But you don’t, you look at her with such empathy, such sadness for her. 

“I can’t bring myself to get rid of it”, she says and sighs. “Because this was so important to Yuna. I don’t know why.”

“Did you ever get the ones that did it?” you ask carefully. 

“No … never. But I will find them one day, and I will make them pay. And the one that did this to you is going to get what he deserve too. I will never let anything hurt you again. I will do whatever it takes, but so help me, if anything ever happens to you again.”

“I think that if she saw you now, she would be proud of you”, you say. “Maybe not for what you do, but for how loving you are.”

Jerry scoffs, but you see that your words hit her hard. 

“You are”, you insist. “Not everyone sees it, but you are. Even if you don’t believe it yourself.”

“Oh yeah?” she scoffs. “How ‘loving’ can I be after everything I’ve done to you?”

You swallow, thinking of everything Jerry has put you through but shake it off. Not the right timing. 

“You sat here with me all this time”, you say. “You’ve cried for me. Worried for me.”

“Well, yeah, I’m not a monster.”

“You aren’t. You are human. And that’s why it wasn’t your fault, for anything that happened. You didn’t do anything.”

Jerry sniffles and looks down at the plush, and then at you. 

“Thank you, Y/N”, she says, giving you a small, sad smile. “Thank you.”

After you’ve fallen asleep that night, she places the little Kuromi plush on the pillow, by your head and smiles sadly. She falls asleep with her head on the free space on the bed beside your legs, eternally grateful that you came back to her, and with a new peace in her body. As if a heavy weight has lifted off her shoulders.

[pranabefall]

✸ — MISC NOTICE. ; minors dni. zhongli x reader. again, some pure fluff but as an mdni blog i'm holding repellent XD. mostly silly silly stuff ihgfghj reader is implied to have studied in the sumeru akademiya. not edited!!!

"You're awake."

It's more a statement then anything else, Zhongli's arm snakes round you, steady in it's grasp. "I know you are." he adds, in a way where the depths of his chest seemed to rumble slow, slow, slowly.

You crack an eye open and stare straight at him, a sheepish grin flickering across for a moment ( only for a moment. You're incorrigible, as Zhongli liked to say ). "I've been thinking." You begin, your breath half caught at the back of your mouth. An excited thrum dances over your fingertips and you're half dizzy from the buzz and the tire. So much, there's so much, your stomach feels like it's about to explode.

"It's too early." he glances over at you with a pointed raise to his brow. "You can barely hear the birds out. Go back to sleep now." His hands are gentle against your cheek and you're almost swayed by the rumbling timbre of his voice and the low cadence. It's lulling you, but by bit, deeper and deeper.

"I've been thinking." You repeat with a little more force, lifting your head up to state your point across. You collapse back down a moment later when the room spins a bit. Perhaps you were too hasty ( goddammit ) and you content yourself with settling into the mattress and pulling the blanket over your shoulders.

His lashes flutter. There is fond exasperation there, melting into his chest and his nearly-there smile like butter. Its the most Zhongli thing about him, the tiny moments and peeks in through. "Alas." He sighs, nudging you close, laying your head over his bicep. "Tell me then."

Zhongli watches the way your shoulders hunch and your lips quirk. "A willing audience? How grand..."

"A little too willing, I'm afraid. I spoiled you so."

Your hands splay against his shoulders. He's warm.

"It's only going to take a minute. In fact, it's only a question. All I need are answers and that will only take as long as you want it to."

Ah there it is, the narrowed squint, the subtle shift and the signs of a slightly more alert Zhongli ( the Zhongli who'd straighten his back and cattishly stare at someone who dares to mention the name of some obscure historic even or little known tea ). "Ask me, then."

You fall silent, looking for your words.

"I was wondering. Is geo resonance susceptible to tearing apart organic tissue? How little is needed for it to do so, and how little for it to...not...?"

You don't think there is a sane way of phrasing that, to be fair. But you'd ask stranger things, always digging and questioning and presenting the wildest little ideas on odd days of the week. It's a side effect of the Akademiya and a lack of sages sushing you into a corner with a pile of textbooks and dry edged annoyance. And maybe the very aforementioned abandonment of shame.

"And by organic tissue..."

"Human flesh, Zhongli."

"Ah."

"More specifically muscles, tendons, bones...maybe even neural tissue to be fair. Any of that stuff."

Zhongli has the grace to not react, or give much away in his contemplation. You knock your head against his chin in gentle assurance. "You don't have to answer of course."

"It's certainly a strange one." He admits.

"It is." You grumble.

"Well..." He trails off before a breathy little chuckle trembles past. "We'll, I can't say I know a proper answer to this one. It's quite specific isn't it?"

"Horribly so. Different tissue have different densities. You can afford to be a little rougher with bone, for example. But something softer like grey matter would require far more finesse."

His hand is steady against the small of your back. "And you ask this because..."

Your lips tug at the corners. "An old junior of mine sent a letter in. The boy graduated from the Spantamad Darshan in my absence and had plenty of news to share regarding a few new experiments with elemental energy and the like." You turn over a moment. "If we could find the precise frequency needed, we may just be able to utilize geo resonances for medical diagnostics."

Zhongli blinks. It's a slow, thoughtful thing.

"That is fascinating." He muses. "So you seek to map put internal injuries then? Or perhaps tumours?"

"Yes!" You eagerly nod at that. "There are Fontanian inventors...and skilled akademics. They're calling a few alumni in to aud in the research."

Your cheek tucks into the crook of his neck. You feel his warmth and the too-slow heartbeat carefully wrapped in his chest, between ribs and flesh — made of anything but stone ( You're filled with a hunger. Zhongli calls it endearing, your passion, as quiet as it can be sometimes ).

"You were invited too." He guesses.

"Yes."

His lips test against your neck. "How long?"

"A while." You look outside, to the balcony and the horizon in the distance. Then you see Zhongli's face, his hair undone and sweep against your temple as he kisses you proper.

"Then go, little love."

"Are you sure?" You suddenly feel awful, and small, and selfish. Liyue had stuck fast to the buttery feelings in your chest and Zhongli had made himself a home there as well. A part of you wants to sneak him into your trunk, sprit him away to Sumeru. It's greedy, immature ( he's always waited for you, patiently ).

"Quite." He kisses your cheek next. "What's a few months?"

"An eternity." You grunt.

Zhongli is silent for a long, long moment. "Right now...it would be, yes." He says in the afterthoughts. "And will miss you terribly. But I've waited before, and I don't see why I cannot now."

He laces his fingers against yours.

"I'll write to you every week." You promise.

"Every week." He promises and he smiles his almost smile. You kiss his forehead. He sighs. "For now...I will say it again. Go to sleep."

"Yes, yes." You mutter, snuggling in. Zhongli tucks his hand beneath your knees and swings one leg over his waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

Let me be greedy, he seems to say.

You let him.

TAGLIST ノ join the taglist. — @silentmoths @meimeimeirin @sleepynoons @iuzas @endursent.

@jessamine-rose @ofoceansandtombsanew @chiyoso @loveliluc

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

Imagine a reader ends up biting one of the Batfam members but it's not just any bite but a very strong bite that tears off part of the flesh, so how would the Batfamily react to that? (Bonus: and the reader ends up swallowing this piece of meat)

ᴛᴀsᴛᴇ ᴏғ ɪʀᴏɴ ♥︎

ʙᴀᴛғᴀᴍɪʟʏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ʏ!)

Ho, is y'all sharks?

More here!

Jason’s grip is iron. Too tight. A gauntleted hand wraps around your wrist, the other pressed to your shoulder, heavy with intention. There’s no struggle from him, no hesitation, just certainty—like you’re some cornered thing meant to be subdued.

And maybe you are.

The Batfamily took you. Dragged you down into the depths of Gotham’s hidden places, where light doesn’t stretch and choices don’t exist. You had fought—clawed, spat, burned through every ounce of defiance like a fire unwilling to die. But they’re patient. They wear you down. A wolf pack that never tires, circling and circling, waiting for you to make a mistake.

Jason, though? He’s different. Not a shadow like Bruce, not methodical like Tim. He meets violence with violence, and right now, he’s underestimating you.

His mistake.

Your teeth sink into his forearm with the kind of force that shatters bone if the angle is right. Jason’s sharp inhale is more surprise than pain, and for a moment, you think he’s going to shake you off like a dog with a bad habit. But then you tear—not just a bite, not a warning, but something deep, something meant to wound. Skin gives way. Muscle rips beneath your jaw. The taste of iron spills over your tongue, hot and thick, a rush of something primal tearing through you as Jason jerks back—too late, too slow.

The chunk of him stays in your mouth.

Somewhere behind Jason, someone moves. A chair scrapes. The air shifts. But you don’t look away from him, and he doesn’t look away from you. He cradles his arm, blood seeping through the ruined sleeve of his jacket, dripping in uneven patterns against the floor.

And then, without thinking, without planning—

You swallow.

Jason watches.

The room goes silent.

Tim is the first to speak, voice low, horrified. "Jesus.”

Dick stands, expression unreadable. His usual warmth, the easy charm he carries like second skin, has slipped. “They need to be restrained.” A glance at Bruce, waiting for the order.

Bruce, silent and still. You can’t see his eyes, but you feel the weight of them.

Jason flexes his injured arm, expression unreadable. He should be angry. Should be throwing you against the nearest wall, spitting curses through clenched teeth. But he just looks at you, blood slick between his fingers, and exhales something close to a laugh.

It’s not humor. Not really.

“You actually took a chunk out of me,” he says, like he’s still processing it. He rolls his shoulder, assessing the damage, before locking eyes with you again. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

You say nothing.

Your tongue sweeps over your teeth, tasting what remains.

Jason’s face shifts. The amusement—the disbelief—slips beneath something colder. He steps forward, ignoring the way Dick moves like he wants to intercept, ignoring the warning in Bruce’s silence. His good hand reaches out, fingers curling around your jaw.

You don’t flinch.

“Say it,” Jason murmurs. His voice is different now. Quieter. Interested. “Say you did that on purpose.”

Your lips part, not to speak, but to bite again.

Jason jerks back before you can sink your teeth in a second time, but the grin that stretches across his face is a dangerous thing. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“This one’s got fight,” he mutters, and there’s something in his voice that sets the others on edge. Tim watches like he’s cataloging data points, trying to piece together a reaction that makes sense. Dick’s frown deepens, a flicker of unease there now.

Bruce doesn't speak, he doesn't move.

“…You’re lucky,” Jason continues, tilting his head, gaze flicking to his arm. Blood still drips, slow but steady. “Anyone else, and you’d be missing a few teeth right now.”

His words should be a threat. Maybe they are.

But you meet his stare, unblinking, and you smile—soft, slow, just enough to show the stain of red between your teeth.

Jason laughs again.

He wipes more blood from his arm, still staring at you. “Yeah,” he mutters, voice low, almost to himself. “We’re keeping you.”

And this time, it sounds like something closer to acceptance.

[stllmnstr]

something old, something new

hello have a 2.3k drabble about Heeseung still having feelings for his ex heavily inspired by the above behind the scenes no doubt mv pics and based on this anon prompt sent to me:

this was supposed to be short but I got carried away and ended up writing 2.3k on my PHONE in an hour so please excuse any typos 😭

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Lee Heeseung loves weddings.

When he admits this to people, which is in and of itself a fairly rare occasion, they assume it’s for all of the usual reasons.

The open bar, the well curated playlist, the free food... After all, those are the typical things men in their mid twenties tend to enjoy. And Heeseung always nods along. Forces a laugh whenever his conversation partner cracks another age old joke about getting a little too tipsy on the dance floor.

Besides, it’s not like he’s immune to baser pleasures. At twenty-five, Heeseung does genuinely enjoy eating well and getting drunk on someone else’s dime.

But if he digs a little deeper, is a little more honest with himself, the real reason he loves weddings so much is the romance of it all.

A white dress thats been agonized over and alternated to perfection. A cake thats been taste-tested and intentionally designed with the lucky couple in mind. A venue that likely cost an arm and a leg, but it’s worth it, because it’s the place where two people get to display the love they have for each other in front of everyone that’s important in their lives.

And Jay, he thinks, has outdone them all. The ballroom Heeseung steps into with perfectly shined shoes is jaw-droppingly gorgeous. Crystal chandeliers bathe the high ceilinged room in soft, warm light that almost glows like candles at dusk.

The aisle separates two generously sized sections of seating from one another. Each table is laid with a crease less cream colored tablecloth and a bouquet of flowers that Heeseung doesn’t want to guess the price of. It’s stunning. It’s perfect.

And Jay, Heeseung’s best friend of thirteen years, deserves nothing less.

Jake seems to agree. Coming to stand next to Heeseung, he jerks his chin towards the door that leads to the neighboring room. “I just heard from a very trustworthy source that the open bar starts at 1 pm sharp,” he grins.

Heeseung has a sneaking suspicious that this trustworthy source is Sunghoon, which means it’s likely to be incorrect. Besides, booze isn’t what he’s here for.

“Hopefully not,” Heeseung nudges Jake’s shoulder, “since no one wants to watch you stumble down the aisle.”

“At least I’m just a groomsman.” Jake shrugs. “You, on the other hand, Mr. Best Man, have to be on your best behavior. Besides, I can handle my alcohol.”

Heeseung’s lips flatten. “I have several videos that prove otherwise.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jake waves his palm. “I’ll be good. I promise. No shots until after the ceremony.”

Heeseung just rolls his eyes. His younger friend might be a little more lax when it comes to conducting himself in public, but Heeseung isn’t actually worried. This is Jay’s wedding, after all. And no matter how much Jake and Sunghoon enjoy a good party, they also know how to take things seriously when it matters.

For a moment, Jake just looks around the room, taking it in like Heeseung had a few minutes prior. Similar actions, different conclusions. Jake doesn’t comment on the lighting or the tablecloths or even the romance. Instead, he says, “I can’t believe Jay’s actually getting married.”

“Yeah,” Heeseung breathes. Jay is the first in their friend group to officially leave bachelor-hood, and it does feel a bit strange to bear witness to. “Me neither.”

Jake is still shaking his head. “And he’s the first one out of all of us. That’s almost weirder. You know, we always thought it would be –”

Remembering himself, Jake lets the sentiment die on his lips.

It doesn’t matter, though. Heeseung already knows what he was going to say.

We always thought it would be you.

Four long years ago, at twenty-one, Heeseung had felt far too young for marriage. But that didn’t stop him from imagining what you’d look like in a white dress. What flavor of wedding cake the two of you would select from the box of samples. What overpriced venue you would decide to officially intertwine your lives in.

It didn’t stop him from tucking away a small, velvet box in the back of his drawer for safekeeping. From fantasizing about kneeling in front of you and finally sliding a gorgeous, sparking ring right where he wanted it to belong.

It didn’t stop him from making promises and plans. Adjustments to his life just to make sure there was always space for you.

But one year later, the box and the ring inside were still tucked away. And the love Heeseung kept safe suddenly had no place to go.

He told his friends it was mutual, that you’d made the decision together. But Heeseung never wanted to let go. Even if a job opportunity meant you had to move across the country. Even if it made no logical sense for him to follow when he was still finishing his degree.

It was circumstances, he explained to his friends, to his family. Not anything either of you did wrong.

But alone, surrounded by the four walls of his bedroom and the overwhelming clamor of his own thoughts, Heeseung just cried. Sobbed. The kind of tears that left him gasping for air and with a throb behind his temple.

Because he knew that he never would have done that to you. He would have turned down the job, would have found a way to make long distance work, would have transferred to another university to be close to you even if it wasn’t logical.

He would have done it, the big romantic gesture that gives the rom-com a happy ending and signals to the production team that it’s time to roll the credits.

But you didn’t. When he suggested long distance, you just sighed. And there were tears in your eyes too, but there was no fight.

So Heeseung, despite every bone in his body screaming at him not to, let you go.

And now, three years later, he’s about to watch his best friend get married and pretend it doesn’t sting. He’s happy for Jay. He is. But the selfish parts of him will always wish he was the one waiting at the end of the aisle instead. For you.

The universe has never made a habit of bending to his desires, though, and he fulfills his role as best man well. The ceremony goes off without a hitch, and Jake is appropriately steady-footed in his role as a groomsman.

The white dress is gorgeous. The cake is delicious. The venue is perfect. Whatever romance is, Jay and his fiancée — no, his wife — have captured it well.

Despite his earlier words, Heeseung makes a home for himself at the aforementioned open bar the second the ceremony is over. Knocking back another swig of whiskey, he appreciates the slight burn. At least it’s in his throat this time, instead of his heart. And at least it’s induced by alcohol instead of misplaced jealousy.

But he must have had one too many drinks, because for a fleeting moment, he swears that the late arrival that makes a hesitant entrance into the reception room is—

No.

There’s no way.

You only knew Jay because you knew Heeseung, and those flowers withered three long years ago. You have no reason to be here now.

But then he hears it, and oh the lurch in his heart hurts just as bad as it did the first time. Because despite the improbability of it all, that’s your voice that floats above the music and exchanged pleasantries with another guest. Even after all the time that’s passed, Heeseung would know it anywhere. Could pick it out of any crowd.

He turns to you slowly, as if he can delay the inevitable just a little longer. As soon as his eyes land on you, he realizes his mistake. He shouldn’t have looked at you at all, should have just slid off the bar stool and ran in the other direction because it still hurts.

You’re three years older, and the time has been good to you. The evening dress you wear hangs from your body in a way that only reminds him of what you look like beneath it, of the way running his hands and his lips and his love over the skin you conceal used to feel like second nature. The way you used to play with his hair with his head in your lap, trading small moments of intimacy after a long day.

It hurts. It aches and it stings and it burns.

He has to get out of here. He has to leave. Now.

Not caring if he’s making a scene, Heeseung stands from the barstool. The only reason he tries to be somewhat discreet is to avoid the heat of your gaze.

All the way to the door on the opposite side of the room, he doesn’t turn back. Not once. On the other side of the door, he lets his body go limp against the solid surface beneath his spine, just for a moment. He exhales a long held breath.

But the air is still stifling, even as he loosens the tie at his neck. Straightening back to his full height, he turns down a short hallway until he arrives at the small outdoor balcony he noticed earlier.

The air outside is cold, at least. Fresh.

On the horizon, the sun spends its last few moments of the day painting the sky in gorgeous, golden hues. Heeseung squints, but he doesn’t look away. Hands wrapped around the bannister that lines the balcony, he sags into himself.

Shoulders hunched, he forces a long inhale into his lungs. And then he releases it. His breath is a pattern he can cling to, something steady that tethers him back to reality. Something to focus on that isn’t the war in his mind.

But peacetime is only an illusion. After a handful of quiet minutes, he hears the door open behind him.

“Oh,” you startle. He knows it’s you, even from just one syllable. “Sorry, I didn’t realize someone was out here already. I’ll just…” Your words trail off into silence, but Heeseung doesn’t hear retreating footsteps, doesn’t hear the door close again. After another stilted moment, what he hears is, “Heeseung?”

Your voice is small. As if you can apologize just by being gentle. As if he’s a wounded animal you don’t want to startle.

And Heeseung, despite himself, does feel a bit like a kitten left out in the rain when he finds it in himself to turn and face you.

The only word he says is your name. His tone is steady, even. More so than he thought he was capable of. But he’s looking at you now too, and his eyes have never been good at hiding secrets.

“I…” You trail off again. You’re at a loss too. “How are you?”

“Don’t do that,” Heeseung shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” you retreat immediately. But Heeseung remembers when you used to argue, when you used to fight back. When you valued the strength of your relationship over his wounded pride.

“Don’t be,” Heeseung shakes his head again. “You made your choice, so stick to it. You don’t get to…” He screws his eyes shut for a moment, fist clenching at his side. Opening his eyes again, he matches your gaze. “You don’t get to leave me and then apologize for it.”

Your breath hitches, but you don’t miss a beat. “I meant for intruding,” you tell him. “I was apologizing for disturbing you.”

But you remember how he used to love making space for you in his life. How his plans were your plans and his time alone on a balcony would only be made better if you were there, too.

And you still remember the day you were inspired by a strong bout of spring fever, how you dedicated an entire afternoon to deep cleaning.

You still remember the small, velvet box you found.

You didn’t open it, but you didn’t have to. The small, nondescript container scared you enough. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to marry Heeseung. You already had Pinterest boards full of white dresses and three-tier cakes and stunning venues. Suits that you thought would bring out his best features.

But you’d also just gotten the news of your promotion. Across the country. You didn’t know how to tell him, and you had less of an idea how to leave him.

But you knew you had to. He would follow you, if you let him. You were sure of it. But he was enrolled in the best university for his program, and you watched him fight tooth and nail to earn his spot there.

Heeseung was a bright light, a beacon of good things, and if you were honest with yourself, you felt like his commitment to you was something that only weighed him down.

He was an adult, too. A young one, yes, but a full, grown person all the same. Perfectly capable of making his own decisions, but you took that from him anyway.

And now, three years later, you can still read him like an open book. There’s hurt in his gaze, pain that lingers even now. There’s resentment, too, and you can’t blame him for it.

I still love you, you want to tell him. Because it’s true. Because you do. Because you can see it in his eyes, too.

But you’ve always been better at holding your tongue than him.

Instead, you turn on your heel, planning to exit the way you came.

Fingers around the door handle, the sound of your name stops you.

It sounds like he’s begging, like he’s pleading, and you can’t bear to turn and see the results of your devastation as surely as you hear them.

Instead, you remain motionless. You squeeze your eyes shut as tightly as you can.

And then, so faintly it’s almost lost to the wind, he says, “Stay. Please.”

.....

thanks for reading! send me a drabble prompt here if you'd like!

[scoupsakakitty]

Knock Knock | idol!s.coups x idol!reader | angst

The cool night air brushed against Y/N’s face as she walked through the dimly lit streets of Seoul, her phone held up as she went live for her fans. The city buzzed softly around her distant car engines, faint chatter, and the rhythmic sound of her footsteps on the pavement. She’d just finished an intense dance practice, her muscles aching but her spirit still lively as she interacted with her fans.

Her smile, however, didn’t fully reach her eyes.

Every now and then, her gaze flickered nervously over her shoulder, her footsteps slowing slightly. Her breath hitched, though she tried to mask it with small laughs, brushing off the tension with casual comments. But her fans weren’t blind.

“Why do you keep looking back?”

“Are you okay, Y/N?”

“Is someone following you?”

She swallowed hard, forcing a shaky smile. “It’s nothing,” she whispered, her voice thinner than usual. But her eyes told a different story wide, alert, and filled with fear.

She kept walking, her heart pounding faster with each step. The feeling of being watched grew heavier, like a shadow clinging to her back. Eventually, she stopped mid-sentence, glancing back one more time, her face tense.

Then she spoke, her voice firm despite the tremble. “I just want to say this,” she began, her fingers tightening around her phone, “it’s not okay to follow idols. It’s not okay to make us feel unsafe. Sasaengs are not fans.”

The chat exploded, filled with worried messages, but Y/N didn’t linger on the topic. She sighed, trying to shake off the fear as she approached her apartment building. She entered quickly, locking the door behind her with trembling hands. She leaned against it for a moment, taking deep breaths before forcing herself to smile again for the live.

“Anyway,” she said, her voice lighter than she felt, “let’s talk about something else.”

She chatted about rehearsals, upcoming schedules, random funny stories anything to drown out the lingering fear in her chest. But then—

Ding dong.

Her doorbell rang.

She froze.

Her face went pale, her breath catching in her throat. The chat exploded again:

“Who is that?”

“Did someone follow you home?!”

“Y/N, don’t open the door!”

A few seconds later knock, knock, knock.

Louder. More urgent.

Panic surged through her veins. She stood up, her phone shaking slightly in her hand as she approached the door cautiously.

The live glitched for a moment, pausing briefly as her phone started ringing. She flinched at the sound, staring at the caller ID. An unknown number. Her heart sank.

She declined the call, but it rang again almost immediately.

When she finally answered, her voice was barely a whisper. “Please… just go away.”

Her hands trembled uncontrollably. She didn’t even realize her live was still going viewers watching every terrifying second.

Eventually, she grabbed her phone, her face filled with fear and exhaustion, and ended the live without saying another word.

Seungcheol had been watching the live from his apartment, his heart pounding in his chest. The moment the screen went black, he didn’t hesitate.

He was already grabbing his jacket, his keys jingling in his shaky hands as he rushed out the door. His mind raced with worst-case scenarios, panic clouding his thoughts.

Please be okay. Please be okay.

It took him less than 15 minutes to get to her apartment, speeding through the empty Seoul streets, his heart beating louder than the car’s engine.

When he arrived, he didn’t even bother with the elevator. He sprinted up the stairs, his legs burning but his fear pushing him forward.

When he reached her door, he banged on it, his voice raw with worry. “Y/N! It’s me! Open up, please!”

The door creaked open slowly, and there she was.

Her face was streaked with tears, her eyes red and puffy, her body trembling like a leaf in the wind. She didn’t say a word just looked at him with broken eyes, like she was holding herself together by a thread.

Seungcheol didn’t hesitate. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as she broke down, sobbing into his chest. Her fingers clutched his jacket desperately, like he was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “I’m here now. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

She couldn’t stop shaking.

Seungcheol kept whispering comforting words, running his hand gently through her hair, trying to steady her breathing. He felt her tears soak through his shirt, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was that she was alive, that she was here.

But then—

Flash.

A sudden burst of light from outside the hallway window.

Seungcheol’s body tensed instantly. He turned his head sharply, just in time to see a figure disappearing around the corner a camera still faintly visible in their hand.

His jaw clenched. His heart raced with a different kind of fear now anger.

Without a word, he guided Y/N back inside, locking the door securely behind them. His mind was racing. The photo. Their secret. The world would know.

Y/N seemed to realize it too because she mumbled through her tears, “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. This is my fault. Now they’ll know. Your career—”

“Hey,” Seungcheol interrupted, cupping her face gently, forcing her to look at him. His eyes were soft but filled with determination. “I don’t care about any of that. You hear me? I don’t care if the whole world finds out. The only thing that matters to me is you. That you’re safe.”

Tears welled up in her eyes again, but this time they weren’t just from fear they were from relief.

“I’m staying here tonight,” he whispered, pulling her back into his arms. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

Later, as they lay in her bed, Y/N clung to him tightly, her body still trembling with the remnants of fear. Seungcheol held her close, his arms wrapped around her protectively. He whispered softly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on her back.

“It’s okay now. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

She eventually drifted off to sleep in his arms, her breathing slow and steady against his chest. Seungcheol stayed awake for a long time, watching over her, his heart still heavy with worry but also filled with love.

Because nothing else mattered.

Not the photo.

Not the rumors that would come.

Not the world.

Just her.

————————————————————————————-

[diorsdolliest]

𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐒; min ho

summary: y/n is heartbroken after being stood up on valentine’s day, but when min ho confesses his feelings, she begins to question everything she thought she knew about him—and herself.

warnings: N/A

word count: 2798

VALENTINE’S DAY WAS THE WORST !

every year, you swore it wouldn't bother you.

and every year, you watched your friends get grand gestures, love confessions, and sweet surprises while you got... nothing.

you saw it in the way yuri's eyes lit up when juliana asked her to be her valentine, the way they looked at each other like the rest of the world didn't exist.

you wanted that.

no—you needed it.

too bad you didn't have a boyfriend. or anyone remotely interested in you.

and as if that wasn't bad enough, kitty refused to let it go.

"kitty, just face it—i'm never getting a valentine. i've accepted it, why can't you?" you sighed dramatically, flopping onto the couch.

kitty, ever the optimist, shook her head. "i'm a matchmaker, y/n! someone out there would be so lucky to have you."

before you could respond, the dorm door swung open.

and, of course, it had to be him.

min ho.

he took one look at you and scoffed. "do you have to be here?" his accent curled around each syllable, laced with irritation.

you rolled your eyes. "yes, i do. if you have a problem with it—frankly, i don't care."

his jaw ticked. "shocking."

"god, you are so insufferable," you shot back, shifting to face kitty instead. "anyway, what's your plan for valentine's?"

at the mention of it, kitty's expression faltered. "nothing, i guess. dae hasn't asked me or anything yet."

you gasped. "excuse me?"

kitty shrugged. "he probably will, i just—"

"if he doesn't, we're having a girls' night," you decided, already springing to your feet. "just us, old 2000s rom-coms, and—"

your eyes flickered toward the kitchen. without thinking, you strode over and snatched the freshly popped popcorn min ho had just made.

he turned slowly, gaze darkening. "put. that. back."

you smirked, tossing a piece into your mouth. "make me."

for a second, neither of you moved.

min ho stepped closer, his presence overwhelming as he stared you down. "you're so annoying, you know that?" his voice was lower now, quieter.

your heart kicked up—whether from irritation or something else, you refused to acknowledge.

"and yet," you popped another piece into your mouth, "you're still standing here."

his eyes flicked to your lips for half a second.

you blinked.

before you could react, you turned on your heel and skipped back to kitty, plopping down beside her.

"i'm sure dae will ask me, though... right?" kitty asked, her voice hopeful.

you forced yourself to focus, nudging her playfully. "of course he will. he loves you."

but as you spoke, you could feel min ho's stare burning into you from across the room.

and for some reason, you didn't hate it.

a week later, you were caught completely off guard.

jaehyun—a boy you barely spoke to—approached you in the courtyard, a single rose in his hand and a box of chocolates tucked under his arm.

your first reaction was to laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “me?”

jaehyun grinned, nodding as he stepped closer, the faint scent of cologne lingering in the air. “y/n y/l/n, will you be my valentine?”

you blinked, glancing around like this was some kind of joke. but there were no snickering friends hiding nearby, no cameras pointed at you for some cruel prank.

just him, holding out the chocolates, slipping the rose behind your ear with careful fingers.

and for once, for the first time ever, you felt chosen. wanted.

a slow smile spread across your lips. “yeah, i will.”

jaehyun smirked before walking off, his friends clapping him on the back.

you watched him go, your heart thrumming in your chest, warmth blooming in your stomach. then, clutching the chocolates, you spun around and ran back to your dorm, excitement bubbling over.

for the first time, valentine’s day wasn’t something to dread.

it was something for you.

february 14th.

you spent an hour getting ready, carefully picking out your outfit, fixing your hair, and perfecting your makeup.

by the time you arrived at the restaurant, you were practically glowing, heart hammering with anticipation.

you found your table and sat down, smoothing your dress.

the waiter came over, pen poised over his notepad. "would you like to order?"

you shook your head, smiling. "oh, i'm waiting for my date. he'll be here soon."

the waiter nodded and walked away.

you checked your phone. no messages.

he's probably just running late.

thirty minutes passed. you were still sitting there, hands folded neatly in your lap, foot tapping against the floor.

an hour.

the waiter returned with a hesitant look. "would you like to order something while you wait?"

your stomach churned. "no... i think he'll be here soon."

you pulled out your phone, hesitated, then finally texted him.

no response.

you clicked on his profile.

blocked.

your breath hitched.

the realization crashed over you like a wave, drenching you in humiliation.

he wasn't coming.

two hours later, you ran out of the restaurant, the cold night air biting at your tear-streaked cheeks as you rushed to kitty's dorm.

the moment you reached the door, it swung open.

min ho.

you froze.

his gaze flickered over you, taking in the trembling shoulders, the ruined makeup, the way you clutched your arms around yourself like you were trying to hold the pieces together.

and then his expression shifted.

the teasing smirk he usually wore was gone. instead, his brows furrowed, lips parting slightly as he took a step forward.

you didn't give him the chance to speak. you shoved past him, storming into the room and collapsing onto the couch, burying your face in your hands.

min ho followed, shutting the door behind him.

silence.

then, the rustling of fabric as he moved closer.

the couch dipped beside you.

you flinched, immediately shifting away from him. "if you have something to say, i don't want to hear it!" your voice cracked, betraying you.

min ho exhaled, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer. "y/l/n... what happened?"

his tone. you weren't used to it. not from him. it wasn't condescending, wasn't laced with the usual irritation. it was something else.

something dangerous.

something that made your walls tremble.

you shook your head, wiping the fresh tears that spilled down your cheeks. "it's nothing."

min ho didn't move. "you look like you just had the worst night of your life. tell me."

you swallowed the lump in your throat.

for a moment, you considered shutting him out.

but then his eyes locked onto yours—deep, searching, unwavering—and suddenly, everything poured out.

"i was asked out by this guy," you whispered.

"jaehyun. and he—he asked me to be his valentine, and i thought, for once, someone actually wanted me. and then he stood me up." your voice broke on the last word.

"he blocked me."

the weight of it hit you all over again, a fresh wave of embarrassment and hurt crashing down. your chest tightened as more tears slipped down your face, shoulders shaking.

min ho was silent.

then, before you could react, he reached for you—his hands gripping your wrists, gently pulling them away from your face.

and then he did something you never expected.

he pulled you in.

your breath hitched as you crashed against his chest, his arms wrapping around you, warm and secure and safe.

the shock nearly knocked the air out of your lungs, but the moment his hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, the dam inside you broke completely.

you sobbed into his shoulder, hands clutching at the fabric of his hoodie. "i feel so stupid," you choked out.

min ho tensed. "you're not stupid."

you shook your head, unable to stop the spiral. "i just—i wanted it so badly. i wanted to feel special. but i guess i'm just—"

"don't."

his voice was firm.

you blinked up at him, sniffling.

min ho exhaled sharply, his grip tightening. "you are so much more than what that asshole saw you as. he's an idiot. he's a coward. and he just lost the chance to be with someone beautiful, talented, annoyingly stubborn—"

you let out a watery laugh.

"—and actually gives a shit about people," min ho finished. his voice lowered. "you deserve more than that. so much more."

you swallowed hard, your heart pounding.

it wasn't just what he was saying.

it was how he was saying it.

the way his gaze flickered down to your lips for half a second before snapping back up to your eyes.

the way his fingers curled slightly like he had to stop himself from holding you closer.

the way he was looking at you.

like he was realizing something.

like maybe he should've been the one to ask you first.

your breath caught in your throat.

min ho must've realized how close you were because he cleared his throat, quickly pulling back—but not before his fingers lingered for a second longer than they needed to.

you stared at him, your heart hammering against your ribs.

he let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. "you should get some rest," he muttered. "you look exhausted."

you shook your head, wiping your cheeks. "stay with me, please." you looked down, avoiding his eyes.

min ho went completely still.

you didn't dare move, didn't even breathe as the weight of your words hung in the air between you.

stay with me, please.

you hadn't meant for it to come out so desperate, so raw. but now it was out there, and there was no taking it back.

his breath was slow, measured—like he was carefully choosing his next move.

then, without a word, he leaned back into the couch, his body still tense, but he didn't leave.

"i'm not gonna leave you alone like this," he murmured, voice quieter now.

you nodded, but you didn't look at him. couldn't.

because if you did, you knew you'd break all over again.

the silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. the only sound was your shaky breathing, the occasional sniffle as you wiped at your cheeks.

and then—just barely—you felt it.

min ho's fingers, brush against yours.

a hesitation.

a pause.

and then he held them.

not in the way a friend would. not in the way someone offering comfort should.

his grip was warm, steady—but his thumb traced over your knuckles, slow and deliberate, sending a shiver down your spine.

your breath hitched.

what is he doing?

min ho cleared his throat, but he didn't let go. "you're such an idiot."

your head snapped up, eyes narrowing. "excuse me?"

he let out a short, bitter laugh, shaking his head.

his grip on your hand tightened for half a second before he finally let go, dragging his fingers through his hair in frustration.

"i mean, really, y/n?" he muttered.

"some guy gives you a rose and suddenly you think you're in some fairytale romance? you actually believed he—" min ho cut himself off, jaw tightening.

he looked away, breathing heavily through his nose.

you stared at him, something in your chest twisting. "why do you care so much?"

his head snapped back to you, eyes burning. "because it's you."

the room went deathly silent.

you barely had time to process before min ho was speaking again, voice lower, rougher. "do you have any idea how fucking frustrating it is to watch you chase after people who don't deserve you? to see you get your hopes up just to end up crying like this?"

your throat tightened. "min ho—"

"i would never do that to you," he interrupted, his voice breaking slightly.

"i would never make you feel like you're not enough. and you—" he huffed out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "you don't even see me, do you?"

you froze.

your pulse pounded in your ears as you stared at him, at the way his chest rose and fell unevenly, the way his hands clenched into fists like he was trying to hold himself together.

like this confession had been clawing its way out of him for way too long.

"...what?" your voice was barely above a whisper.

min ho let out a sharp exhale like he'd already said too much. but then his eyes locked onto yours, and something in them shifted.

screw it.

he surged forward, his face just inches from yours. "i like you, okay?" he muttered, the words dripping with frustration, desperation, something dangerous.

"i have liked you. and it's driving me insane watching you throw yourself at guys who don't even know how lucky they are to have your attention."

your lips parted, but no words came out.

min ho's jaw tensed, his eyes flickering between yours, searching—waiting.

for what, you didn't know.

for you to push him away?

to laugh in his face?

you didn't.

instead, you did the only thing you could do.

you reached for his hand again, gripping it tightly in yours. and this time, he was the one who sucked in a sharp breath.

"say it again," you whispered.

his brows furrowed slightly, his voice barely above a breath. "what?"

you swallowed, heart hammering against your ribs. "say it again."

min ho's fingers curled around yours. his voice was quieter this time, but just as intense.

"i like you."

you could barely think. barely breathe.

but then min ho leaned in, so close that his lips ghosted over your cheek, lingering there for a heartbeat too long.

his breath was warm against your skin, his grip on your hand tightening like he was grounding himself.

his voice dropped even lower, barely a whisper.

"...and i'm so fucking tired of pretending i don't."

you didn't move.

didn't breathe.

min ho's confession hung between you, thick and suffocating, as if the weight of it alone could crush you.

his breath was warm against your skin, his grip on your hand firm—like he was daring you to pull away, begging you not to.

but you couldn't.

your heart pounded so loudly you swore he could hear it.

every nerve in your body was on edge, hyper-aware of him—the heat of his body so close to yours, the tension radiating off of him like an electric current.

you forced yourself to swallow. "min ho..."

his name came out weaker than you intended, barely more than a whisper.

he pulled back just enough to look at you, his brows furrowed, his lips parted slightly like he was preparing for the worst.

like he expected you to shut him down.

and maybe you should've.

maybe you should've laughed it off, teased him, acted like this was some sick joke—because what other explanation was there?

this was min ho.

min ho, who bickered with you like it was a second language.

min ho, who always had something sarcastic to say, acted like he barely tolerated you most of the time.

min ho, who was right here, so close you could feel every breath he took.

"i—" you swallowed again, voice barely steady. "you can't just say things like that."

his jaw tightened. "why not?"

"because..." you hesitated, your grip on his hand loosening, but he didn't let go.

because it would change everything.

because it was easier to keep pretending.

because if you let yourself believe him—if you let yourself hope—you wouldn't survive it if he took it back.

min ho exhaled sharply, his frustration barely contained. "you really don't get it, do you?"

you blinked at him, heat rushing to your cheeks. "get what?"

"that i see you." his voice was quieter now, raw in a way that made your stomach twist.

"i see all of you, y/n. not just the part that laughs too loudly, or the part that annoys the shit out of me daily. i see the part that cries when no one's looking. the part that wants so badly to be chosen—" he broke off, shaking his head.

"and it pisses me off that you don't even realize you already are."

your breath hitched.

min ho's gaze flickered between your eyes, your lips, and back to your eyes.

his fingers twitched like he wanted to touch you again, but something was holding him back.

you.

you were holding both of you back.

you squeezed your eyes shut, your pulse thrumming wildly against your skin. "min ho, i don't—"

"tell me you don't feel it." his voice was low, almost desperate. "tell me i'm wrong."

you opened your mouth, ready to deny it. to throw up your defenses, to make this easier.

but nothing came out.

because you did feel it.

you felt it in the way your chest tightened whenever he was near.

in the way his absence left a void, you hated to acknowledge.

in the way, his touch, his words, and his presence sent something sharp and terrifying through you.

you felt it.

and min ho knew.

his lips parted like he was about to say something else—one final push to make you admit what was already written all over your face.

but then, a sharp knock sounded on the door.

you jumped.

min ho jerked back slightly, his grip on your hand loosening for the first time. the moment shattered the intensity between you dissipating like smoke.

the door creaked open, and kitty's voice rang out.

"oh—uh, am i... interrupting something?"

your head snapped up, your breath still uneven.

min ho let out a slow exhale, running a hand through his hair, forcing his expression back into something unreadable.

"no." his voice was flat, distant.

"nothing at all."

liar.

he shot you one last look before standing up, jaw tight.

then he walked out, leaving you alone on the couch, pulse still racing, heart still pounding, and everything left unsaid.

pt 2 - all i really want is you

[tricoloreddango]

dutiful boyfriend

Summary: Phainon wants to apply a lotion on your body; however, his intention are not so innocent.

Yandere Phainon x female reader

contents: nudity / dub-con|non-con touching (lotion application with groping) / obsession / smutty (nipple play) / female cycle mentions / patronizing behavior / forced relationship / mentions of suffocating (paranoid) /

Word count: 1.3k

Not suitable for minors.

No matter how much Phainon’s presence could have been suffocating for you, with him wanting to be in your space and have your attention 24/7, he has never relented.

That’s why you both just took a bath together. Another excuse to have you close to him, with his intention hidden under a false reasoning of couple activities and Amphoreus’s bathing culture. Anyone else who didn’t know the true nature of your relationship would think he’s just a clingy boyfriend, maybe like a puppy with separation anxiety; but you knew better.

He has held you tight to his chest the entire time of taking a bath together, sitting behind you. Washing you was included too, disguised as him wanting to take care of you and help you relax. Yet in never felt like anything else other than invasive and vulnerability-forcing.

However, your stressful situation of your peace and space being intruded wasn’t over just because you left the bathtub. Another part of him taking care of you was meant to be him applying a lotion for you too, right after he wiped you clean with a a towel to make it all invasive.

“Phainon… I can do it myself,” you said nervously when you saw him grab a bottle of lotion from the counter of the sink. He already did everything for you, making you feel so incompetent and out of control of your own life or even body. You didn’t know if you can handle more of his touch either.

“Nonsense!” he responded in a chirpy voice. “I just want to take care of you. You needn’t to lift even a finger,” he said with a smile and winked at you. Phainon stood right in front of you and pumped out few squirts of rose-scented lotion. Each pump made your heart pound like a thunder. He already was touchy on regular basis, but wanting to spread something all over your naked body felt even more unsafe and humiliating without a close barrier to protect you. Regardless, some part of you wanted to believe he was just being nice… even if it felt rather infantilizing and pushy to have everything done for you.

No, it was maddening when you were treated like someone who couldn’t take care of herself. The question was whether Phainon shared your sentiments.

“Okay…” you finally gave in. You knew he’d keep wearing you down if you say no anyway.

“Thank you, my love! Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” he said softly with another smile, although his eyes were a different story—watching you like a hawk, not hiding an unhealthy obsession with you.

Despite you agreeing, it didn’t make you feel any less anxious from anticipation of waiting for his hands to be put on you.

When Phainon finally did so, a hope filled you somewhat. He was just applying it on your shoulders and arms first, not in any suggestive way.

Only for your stomach to be churned when he got onto your chest after few more pumps of lotion to gather and spread.

He wasn’t just applying lotion. No, his hands lingered on your breasts for way too long. He was doing more than rubbing your breasts—his hands were squeezing them in circling motions, and you had to bite down on a moan, both sensitive and startled. “P-phainon, what are you doing?”

“Me?” he said innocently, “Didn’t you say your breasts are tender before period? I’m just helping you, I’ve heard a massage can help…”

“Yes, but…” you protested weakly, feeling as if he wasn’t entirely truthful.

“No buts, pretty girl,” he said with a reassurance and kissed your forehead to further convince you. “Now…” His fingers were now onto your nipples, rubbing their sides between his digits. You yelped, feeling a spark of both slight pain and involuntary arousal. He smiled a little.

“Phainon…” you said unsurely, “I am fine, really…”

You moaned when he gently pinched your buds that were growing sturdy. “Some pleasure should relieve your pain, I think.”

‘I think’—he wasn’t even sure if he had to do this, yet he gambled and put you through unnecessary humiliation.

Right when your body was getting more eager, he finally stopped. To your displeasure, for some reason you felt disappointed. “Do they feel better?” he asked hopefully. You nodded immediately in case he wanted to drag this out.

“Perfect. Just a few more places are left to moisturize…”

Few more pumps.

Next was stomach and back. He didn’t make it any weird thankfully, although with your legs he dragged his hands down and up them, making you extremely nerved when he was reaching more intimate areas.

You felt tears build up when his hands landed on your backside. Phainon even forced your body pressed tightly against his to get closer to that area, chest to chest and with his face buried in your neck. His lips were teasing your skin, as if you weren’t overwhelmed already. Your eyes didn’t need to witness his expression, as he knew you wouldn’t like the truth.

You felt his skin against yours, which only intensified the sense of being naked but in more symbolic sense than simply touch and nudity. “How can you be so beautiful, hm?” he teased, making you squirm as his voice vibrated against your neck. “You’re unreal, really…” he murmured contentedly, thinking about its just him in your life.

His words didn’t cause any sense of being flattered in you. You just wanted to leave this bathroom to signalize the end of this torment.

“I’m getting cold,” you tried to lie as you felt him massage and squeeze your flesh. “Don’t worry, I’m keeping you warm. You should feel warmer soon,” he said gently.

You did feel warm, albeit it felt like an unpleasant sweaty sensation than comforting one. When he looked up at you he wiped your few tears with a loving look that felt out of place for your distress. “Oh, my bad, I didn’t realize you’re that sensitive. It must be an overstimulation,” his tone was apologetic and worried, but the real reason of your tears remained unspoken; though you had to admit that even the scent of rose hanging in the air felt now too irritating to your nose. “I’ll make the rest of the process quick for your sake.” When you nodded and he gave you a quick kiss, making you experience a lot of relief that this torture was nearing the end, your joy was quickly diminished.

Few more pumps.

He was moisturizing your mound. Your eyes widened and you tried to close your legs in panic but he swiftly forced them open. “Don’t be ungrateful,” his voice was suddenly cold, making you freeze from the shock in sudden change in his mood. That kept you unmoving, scared you end up provoking him further even if you weren’t at fault here.

Fortunately for you his hand didn’t wander deeper between your thighs, leaving your most intimate place untouched… though you didn’t know if it’s a good thing—maybe it was merely a begging of some game, and he was taking you slowly part by part, hence he left the best for later.

“Good girl,” he praised at your compliance, and when he sounded soft again you had to do a double check to know whether you didn’t only imagine him being aggressive a second ago.

Last pump. Phainon’s left hand gathered your hair up to reveal your neck and not stain your hair with crème, and the other quickly spread the product around your throat. Despite him not hurting you, a sense of paranoia and claustrophobic pressure was there with his palm on this place—a worry about both being suffocated both literally and figuratively. You ever doubted he’d lay a hand on you; it was just a fear caused by having your entire existence have him all over your life everyday.

You exhaled deeply when he finally put the bottle away. “All smooth and soft, just like you should be. Not to mention how good you smell…”

You squirmed when his finger traced your arm down, wanting to experience how silky your skin was now…

You really had no idea how much he craved you just from simple gestures like this. Every part of you had a deeper meaning to Phainon, and you were desirable both physically and simply because it was you.

He smiled widely, all enthusiastic. “Now we can go to bed and rest. Don’t worry, I’ll help you put on your clothes too.”

I really can’t stop writing this type of Phainon…

[heeluvv]

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄 ( ၴႅၴ

pairing ༒︎ yandere/psycho!kim sunoo x student!reader

genre ༒︎ dark romance

warnings ༒︎ stalking, possession, masturbation (slight), forced love, obsession, etc.

natty’s notes ༒︎ mdni, hate comments will be deleted.

sunoo never meant to fall this deep.

he was just watching. studying. learning.

he memorized your schedule, your favorite snacks, the exact way your lips curved when you smiled.

at first, he was content with the distance. watching from the back of the classroom. listening when you spoke—soaking in every word like it was meant for him.

then, he started following just to make sure you were safe. just to protect you.

but then—he saw you with them. laughing. touching. letting someone else be close to you.

something snapped.

you were his.

you just didn’t realize it yet.

he thought he could be patient. he thought he could wait for you to see him but watching you with them—watching their hands touch what was his—he couldn’t take it anymore.

so he took you.

your head feels heavy. clouded. wrong. when you try to move, your wrists won’t budge. your vision is blurry, the dim light in the room barely enough to make sense of your surroundings.

and then—you hear it.

soft breathing. close. too close.

“you’re awake.” your stomach drops.

sunoo.

he’s sitting beside you, watching. waiting. loving. his glasses are slightly fogged, his lips parted in quiet relief. he reaches forward, fingers brushing over your cheek.

“you slept for so long, baby.” your blood runs cold.

“let me go.” his smile softens—as if you just said something silly.

“i can’t do that.” he tilts his head, eyes filled with something too dark. too tender. too in love.

“you’re finally where you belong.”

you struggle. scream. beg.

but he doesn’t move, he doesn’t react. he just watches because he knows you’ll break eventually.

one night, you hear it.

soft, shaky breaths.

the quiet sound of frustration and want.

you turn your head—and freeze.

sunoo is sitting in his chair, his back is to you, but you can see the tension in his shoulders.

his head tilts back slightly, a soft, broken sigh slipping past his lips.

“baby…”

his voice is wrecked. desperate. longing.

his fingers tremble against his skin.

you don’t have to see to know.

he’s thinking about you. he’s touching himself to the thought of you.

your stomach twists.

you want to look away but you can’t. not when he breathes your name like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. not when you realize—he’s been waiting for you to love him, but he can’t wait any longer.

the room is too quiet.

except for him.

except for his breath hitching, his soft, broken sighs, the quiet sound of frustration and want.

your hands tremble against the restraints. you shouldn't look but your body betrays you.

the way his shoulders rise and fall, his muscles tense as his fingers curl—digging into his own skin, his body tight with something unbearable.

his head tilts back slightly, a breath escaping in a soft, shuddering moan.

your name slips past his lips—raw, wrecked, desperate.

your stomach twists.

he's thinking about you.

no—he's consumed by you.

you move too much.

a soft creak of the mattress beneath you.

his breath catches.

he stills then—he turns his head.

your stomach drops.

his glasses slide down his nose, his wide eyes locking onto yours-lips still parted, pupils blown, face flushed with heat.

the room is too hot. too heavy. too much.

but sunoo? he smiles like he's won.

like you just gave him exactly what he wanted. his breathing is still uneven, his fingers still shaking, but his gaze never wavers.

"you were watching me." his voice is soft. breathless. smug.

you shake your head, your throat too tight to speak but his smile only deepens.

"don't lie, baby." he steps forward.

"you saw, didn't you?" your pulse races. he moves closer, until he's standing at the edge of the bed-so close, too close. his fingers reach out, brushing against your cheek, trailing down your jaw. his touch is warm. lingering. inescapable.

his voice drops to a whisper.

"it's okay."

his forehead presses against yours, his breath fanning against your lips.

"it just means you're finally starting to love me back." but your body betrays you. your breathing hitches. your fingers twitch. you feel trapped in his warmth, drowning in his scent, his touch, his presence.

his lips hover just above yours, teasing, waiting.

"see, baby?" his fingers trace down your throat, pressing just lightly against your racing pulse.

"you can't hide from me." his lips brush against your skin-your temple, your jaw, down to the base of your throat. his hands slide over your wrists, fingers grazing your pulse as if to remind you that he owns it now.

"don't fight it, baby." his breath is warm, intoxicating.

"i'll love you enough for both of us."

natty's notes ༒︎ okayyy i hope you guys like it or something, i appreciate you all for the likes and reblogs, tysmm!! (also if you guys have any request please send them in!)

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Home is at the track||F1!platonic grid x y/n l/n

Summary — y/n misses her sibling who she hasn’t seen since they left for the army luckily her team surprises her during her first win.

Word count 1k?

Y/N leaned her head against the side of her helmet, eyes shut tight as the minutes ticked down to lights out. The steady roar of engines around her was no help—she could still hear the pounding of her own heartbeat. Today could be the day. Her first podium. Maybe even her first win.

Her sibling’s voice echoed in her head. “You’ve got this, kid. Go show them what you’re made of.” They’d said it so many times that she could almost hear the smile in their voice. But it wasn’t the same. It hadn’t been the same for over a year. The military had taken them to places she didn’t even want to imagine, and while she couldn’t be prouder, the ache in her chest hadn’t dulled.

“Y/N.” Her engineer’s voice crackled over the radio, snapping her out of the spiral. “Focus. Deep breath. You know what to do.”

She nodded to herself, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Yeah,” she muttered. “I’m ready.”

She straightened, closing her eyes for one more breath—in, out—just as the first of the five lights illuminated.

One …

Two …

Three …

Four …

Five.

The lights went out, and everything else disappeared. No memories, no doubts—just the raw, electric focus that came with launching into a corner at 200 miles an hour.

The rain came out of nowhere by lap 15, slicking the track like ice. Cars spun out, littering the gravel traps, but Y/N held on with determination.

“You’re P2,” her engineer barked. “You’ve got this.”

Her arms burned, and her hands ached from gripping the wheel. Every turn was a fight, every straight a fragile reprieve. But she stayed locked on Landos rear wing, inching closer with each lap until the final one loomed ahead.

It was just her and Lando now, neck and neck in the unrelenting rain. Visibility was nonexistent, but Y/N didn’t care. She saw her chance—late on the brakes, diving into the corner. The car held.

The checkered flag blurred past.

“P1! You’re P1!” her engineer’s voice broke with emotion.

Y/N’s breath hitched, disbelief giving way to an ecstatic scream. “We did it! We did it!”

She parked in parc fermé, the team swarming her the moment she climbed out. Laughter, cheers, tears—she soaked it all in. But something felt incomplete.

Someone was missing. Her sibling had been watching from a quiet corner of the motorhome, heart in their throat as she pulled off that final move. They’d flown halfway across the world on a sliver of leave, hiding the whole time just to surprise her. Now, as she stood on the podium, bathed in camera flashes, they felt tears prick their eyes.

“She has no idea you’re here,” one of the team’s managers murmured beside them.

They smiled faintly, their voice thick. “She’s gonna kill me for this.”

The team gave them the signal. Standing on the top step of the podium, Y/N tried to stay present. The trophy was heavy in her hands, the national anthem blaring in her ears. But her eyes kept darting to the crowd. She knew it was silly—her sibling wasn’t here. They couldn’t be. They were probably watching on a tiny screen thousands of miles away.

The tears came before she could stop them, hot and unrelenting. She wiped them away quickly, forcing a smile as the champagne bottle was handed to her.

And then she heard it—a roar from the crowd, louder than before. She turned toward the commotion, confused. And there they were.

Standing at the bottom of the stairs was her sibling in their ACU’s holding their arms out for a hug. Gasping The bottle slipped from her hands, hitting the ground with a hollow thud. Her chest tightened, her breath catching. “No way,” she whispered.

“Miss me?” they called out, their voice just barely audible over the crowd.

She didn’t think—she leapt from the podium, sprinting into their arms. The trophy clattered to the ground, forgotten. She didn’t care.

“You’re here,” she sobbed into their shoulder, clinging to them like they might disappear again.

They held her just as tightly, their voice shaking. “Of course, I’m here. I couldn’t miss this.”

For a moment, the world faded. No cameras, no crowd—just them.

Hours later, the paddock was quiet. The celebration had wound down, leaving Y/N and her sibling on the motorhome steps, wrapped in a shared blanket.

“You pulled this off?” she asked, her voice raw.

“They did most of it,” they admitted, nodding toward her team. “I just showed up.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

They nudged her playfully, their own eyes red-rimmed. “I missed you too. And for the record? I’ve watched every race. You’ve been incredible, Y/N. You deserve all of this.”

She glanced at the trophy sitting nearby, running her fingers over the engraved plate. “I wouldn’t be here without you. You’re the reason I ever believed I could do this.”

Her sibling didn’t say anything, just pulled her into another hug. The silence between them spoke volumes.

[partoffantasy]

Playing Dirty - Liam Mairi

summary: when their latest round of flirtation turns into something more, reader finds herself on the losing end for the first time. Because Liam isn’t just playing anymore. And when he finally makes his move, she realizes—maybe she never stood a chance to begin with.

pairing: liam mairi x fem!reader warnings: MDNI!, smut, swearing, unprotected p in v, oral (f & m) word count: 3.1k

⸻⸻⸻✦ ♡ ✦⸻⸻⸻

–Liam’s POV–

I am going to die. Not from battle. Not from a wyvern attack. Not even from the war. No. I am going to die because of her. Because Y/N just peeled off her shirt like it was nothing, revealing a tight black sports bra and an equally tight pair of shorts that should be illegal. I feel my brain short-circuit.

Every thought evaporates from my head, leaving only one very obvious fact: She is wearing that on purpose. And she knows exactly what she’s doing. I catch the way her lips quirk when she stretches, rolling out her shoulders, pretending she doesn’t notice the way half the damn training grounds are watching her.

I definitely notice. And so does everyone else.

Sawyer whistles under his breath. “Oh, she’s playing dirty today.” Ridoc snickers. “Wonder who she’s trying to kill.” “Me,” I say immediately. “The answer is me.” Violet, standing beside me, hums knowingly. “Well, it’s about time someone made a move.” I shoot her a look, but my attention snaps back to the mat as Y/N steps up to her opponent—another first-year I don’t recognize.

And then she smirks. Oh, fuck me. Because I know that smirk. That smirk means trouble. That smirk means she’s about to put on a show. And I should look away. I should not let myself get sucked into this game she’s playing. But then she moves. Quick, sharp, precise—like she’s dancing, like she was born for this.

She dodges her opponent’s first hit with ease, twisting gracefully, using her smaller size to her advantage. And then she strikes—landing a hit so fast the first-year doesn’t even see it coming. He stumbles back. She smiles sweetly. And gods help me, I am not okay. Sawyer nudges me. “You’re staring.” I don’t even deny it. “She’s doing this on purpose.” Rhi grins. “Of course she is.”

“She’s trying to get in my head,” I mutter, watching as Y/N dodges another attack, her body twisting in a way that is absolutely illegal. “She thinks she’s winning.” Ridoc snorts. “Well… she kinda is.” I shoot him a glare. “Not for long.”

Because two can play this game. And the second Instructor Emet calls my name, I don’t hesitate. I grab the back of my shirt and tug it over my head, dropping it to the mat before stepping forward, letting my shoulders roll loose, letting my muscles flex just enough.

I hear the sharp intake of breath behind me. And when I turn to face Lorena, her eyes are locked on my chest. I smirk. Got her. Her throat bobs. I raise a brow. “Something wrong, Y/N?” She blinks fast, clearing her throat, forcing her gaze up. “Not at all.” But her voice wobbles. 

–Y/N’s POV–

Oh, he thinks he’s so smart. Thinks he can one-up me. Thinks that just because he took his damn shirt off—and yes, okay, it’s annoyingly distracting—he has the upper hand. But what Liam doesn’t realize? I like a challenge.

Instructor Emet doesn’t waste time. “Cadets,” he calls, stepping back. “Begin.” And I don’t hesitate. I lunge first, aiming for his left side. He dodges. I spin, barely missing his grip, and twist—using the momentum to aim a sharp kick at his ribs.

He blocks me with his forearm, but his smile widens. “You’re fast,” he murmurs. I smirk. “You hesitated.” And then I strike again. We move like clockwork—fluid, sharp, precise. Attack. Block. Counter. Strike. It’s a deadly, dangerous dance, and neither of us are willing to give in. But the thing about Liam? He’s stronger.

And the second he catches my wrist, I know I’m in trouble. Because I might be fast, but he’s got sheer, unfair brute force on his side. He yanks me forward, using my own momentum against me, spinning me midair before pinning me flat against the mat.

And suddenly—He’s everywhere. His chest pressing into mine, his breath warm against my cheek, his fingers tight around my wrists. I freeze. Because fuck. Because he’s really close. Because his pupils are blown wide and his golden-retriever face is looking far too pleased with himself.

“Pinned you,” he murmurs, way too smug. I swallow hard. “You think you’ve won.” His grip tightens. “Haven’t I?” Oh, hell no. He’s playing dirty. So I do, too. I shift beneath him—arching just enough, pressing against the solid weight of him, letting my breath hitch just slightly. His whole body tenses. His jaw locks.

And I see it—the brief flicker of panic in his eyes, the moment he realizes that he might have just played himself. I smirk. “Not quite,” I whisper. And then I flip him.

He grunts as his back hits the mat, and before he can react, I’m on top of him, straddling his waist, pinning his wrists to the ground. His eyes go wild. “Oh,” he breathes. Just that. Just oh.

Like he finally understands.

Like he finally sees me.

Like he finally realizes that this game we’re playing? Neither of us are winning.

Because we’re both already gone.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

The second classes end, I don’t hesitate. Liam is still talking to Ridoc about something utterly irrelevant—something about lunch, maybe? I don’t care. Because I have one goal.

I grab his wrist, fingers wrapping tight, and yank. “Whoa—Y/N?” His voice is confused, but his feet follow without hesitation. I don’t stop until we’re behind the massive stone statue near the edge of the courtyard—tucked away from prying eyes, away from everyone.

Alone.

The moment we’re in the shadows, I turn, my back hitting the cold stone, Liam right there in front of me, confused but very interested. “What are you—” “I’m tired of this game,” I cut him off, my voice low, breath coming fast.

His expression shifts—just slightly. His head tilts, watching me closely. He’s amused. That should infuriate me. Instead, it makes my stomach tighten. “Oh?” His voice is soft, teasing. “What game, exactly?”

Infuriating.

I step closer, closing the space between us, looking up at him through my lashes. He’s so tall, so broad, his shoulders blocking out the light. “The one we’ve been playing all day,” I whisper-shout at him, getting angry.

I see it—the flicker in his eyes, the moment my words hit. But then he does something I don’t expect. He laughs. Soft. Low. And then, in one slow movement, he steps closer. And closer.

Until I’m fully pinned against the statue, his hands braced on either side of me, caging me in.

Until I have nowhere to go.

Until his mouth is just at my ear, his breath warm against my skin.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice lower, rougher than I’ve ever heard it. “Stop calling this a game, you know it isn’t.” My breath catches. Oh, fuck. My heartbeat slams against my ribs. I refuse to break eye contact, but my fingers betray me—curling slightly, gripping his bicep just a little too tight.

He notices. And he smiles. A slow, knowing, dangerous smile. “Here’s the thing, baby,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing just barely over my hip. “I see you. I see right through you. You act like you’re in control. Like you’re the one calling the shots.” His fingers tighten slightly. “But that’s not what you really want, is it?”

I don’t react. I can’t. Because he’s right. He knows he’s right. And fuck, that should scare me. But all it does is set me on fire. I open my mouth, but he’s already there—tilting my chin just slightly with his fingers, making me look at him.

“You need someone who isn’t afraid to take control,” he continues, his voice like gravel and heat. “Someone who doesn’t let you push them around. Someone who knows exactly what you need and isn’t afraid to give it to you.”

I suck in a sharp breath. His thumb brushes my lower lip, just barely. And then he pulls back. Just enough to make me feel the distance. Just enough to make me ache. Then he smirks. “Are you going to finally give in, Y/N?” I stop myself to think. Because if we start—We won’t stop.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Liam pulls me into his room, the door falling softly behind us, the sound of the lock clicking in place. The air between us crackles with anticipation. Before I can even process it, he presses me against the wall with a force that leaves me breathless, his lips crashing onto mine in a searing kiss. His hands grip my sides, pulling me closer, and I can feel the heat radiating off him. I tangle my fingers in his soft blonde hair, tugging at the strands as if grounding myself in the sensation of him.

His lips move from my mouth to my neck, trailing hot, wet kisses along my sensitive skin. My head falls back, instinctively giving him more access, and I shiver, feeling his warmth spread through me. His breath is ragged against my throat, and when he sucks gently on the skin there, a quiet moan escapes my lips. His grin is audible as he murmurs, “Fuck, I’ve been waiting to hear that.”

The sound of his voice makes my pulse spike, and the desire that has been simmering between us finally erupts into something urgent. I pull back slightly to look at him, my eyes locking onto his as I tug his shirt off. The moment his chest is exposed, the dim moonlight catches on the sculpted lines of his body, the muscles flexing under his smooth skin. My hands trace the ridges of his abs, traveling lower, grazing the waistband of his pants, and then finally dipping to the v-line that dips below. My breath catches in my throat as I look up at him, and his eyes are burning with something almost dangerous.

“You’re perfect,” I breathe out, my voice low and full of need.

Liam’s hands travel down my body, undoing the buttons of my shirt with an ease that speaks to how well he knows me. As the fabric slides off my shoulders, I stand before him in nothing but a delicate lace bra, my skin flushed and my heart pounding in anticipation. His eyes drop to my chest, his gaze dark and hungry, and I can’t stop the flush that blooms in my cheeks.

“You’re fucking stunning,” he mutters before his lips crash back onto mine in a kiss that leaves me breathless. I respond, hungry for more, my hands slipping to his belt, undoing it slowly, teasingly, my fingers brushing against the hardness I can feel through his pants. He groans into my mouth, and I smile against his lips as I slide down to my knees before him, feeling the heat of his body against mine.

I look up at him, his body towering above me, and my hands work swiftly to undo his pants. I hear the rustle of fabric, and then he’s free, his cock already thick and hard. I bite my lip, unable to suppress the smirk that tugs at the corner of my mouth.

“Someone’s eager,” I tease, my voice breathy with desire.

Liam’s breath hitches, his hands threading through my hair, pulling me closer. I look up at him one last time before I lean forward, brushing my lips over the tip of his cock. The taste of him is divine, and I slide my tongue along the length of him, savoring the salty, intoxicating flavor.

His hands tighten in my hair, guiding me slowly, and I take him deeper, inch by inch, until I can feel him at the back of my throat. My mouth moves with precision, hollowing my cheeks as I take him in completely, every inch of him filling me. Liam’s breathing becomes ragged as he watches me, his eyes dark and stormy.

“Gods, Y/N,” he groans, his hips thrusting slightly, urging me to take more. I hum in approval, the vibration causing him to shudder beneath my touch. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good.”

I hollow my cheeks, sucking him in deeper, my hand gripping his thick thighs as I let myself fall into the rhythm, sucking and licking in time with his movements. I can feel the tension building between us, the heat intensifying as I take him deeper, pushing him to the back of my throat.

“Fuck,” he curses, and the sound of his voice is raw with need. “I can’t hold back much longer.”

He pulls me off him, and I gasp for air, my lips swollen from the intensity. Without missing a beat, he pulls me up, capturing my lips in a kiss that tastes like fire. He moves with purpose, his hands guiding me onto the bed. His lips travel down my neck, his breath warm against my skin. He’s moving with a controlled urgency, as if he’s trying to savor every moment of this.

He pauses, his eyes darkening as he looks at me with that intense, commanding gaze. “You’re perfect,” he breathes, his hands slipping to the waistband of my panties. In one swift motion, he pulls them off, throwing them aside. He looks down at me, his eyes hungry, and I feel a thrill of anticipation rush through me.

“Gods, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss the swell of my breasts. His lips tease along the lace of my bra, and I arch into him, desperate for more. My hands slide into his hair, tugging him closer, urging him on.

Without warning, his lips trail lower, and he places a soft kiss on my stomach before continuing downward. My breath catches as he reaches my inner thighs, his breath warm against my skin. I squirm beneath him, and he chuckles darkly, the sound making me ache with need.

Then, finally, he’s there, his tongue sweeping over my most sensitive part. A gasp escapes my lips, and I feel my body tremble at the sheer sensation of his mouth on me. He’s slow at first, his tongue exploring, teasing, before he presses harder, his lips suckling gently. I can feel the tension building inside me, a knot coiling tight as his fingers slip inside, stretching me as he works me open.

“Liam, please,” I whisper, my body arching into his touch.

He responds with a low groan, his fingers moving faster, harder, as his tongue works in rhythm with his hands. I can feel myself unraveling, the pleasure building to an unbearable height. “Cum for me, baby,” he urges, his voice a breathless command.

That’s all it takes. My body shudders as I reach the peak, and I scream his name, the force of my orgasm taking me completely. Liam doesn’t stop, continuing to stroke me through my release, his fingers pumping slowly, drawing out every last tremor.

When I finally collapse back onto the bed, panting and spent, he moves up beside me, kissing my forehead before trailing his lips down to my neck. His breath is ragged, and I can feel his heart racing as his hands roam over my body, grounding me back in the moment.

“Good girl,” he whispers, kissing me softly as he brushes his thumb over my lips. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you come apart for me.”

I smile up at him, hazy with pleasure, my body still tingling from the aftershocks of my release. I run my finger along his jawline, tracing the lines of his face as I catch my breath.

But there’s no time to recover. He’s not done yet, and as he pulls me closer, I feel his cock pressing against my thigh, hard and ready once more. “You good?”, he asks, looking at me with those big blue eyes. My body responds to him instinctively, nodding and craving more of him.

He pushes my legs apart, settling between them as his tongue tangles with mine in a deep, hungry kiss. I feel the heat of him at my entrance, the weight of him pressing against me before he enters with a single, powerful thrust.

"Oh, fuck!" I cry out, my nails digging into his back, leaving crimson marks that I can’t bring myself to care about. He grins at me, eyes dark with desire.

"I couldn’t hold back," he murmurs, his breath ragged as he pulls out slowly before pushing back in, inch by inch.

I moan in response, my body aching for more. "Faster, please."

He obliges, his thrusts becoming relentless, the sound of our bodies colliding filling the room. The rhythm of it—raw, urgent—has me gasping for air, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper. My hands rake over his back, leaving trails of fire in their wake as he kisses my neck.

But I push him away, a spark of something wild igniting within me. I twist, flipping us so that I’m on top. He smirks up at me, his hands settling on my waist, gripping hard. I move my hair from my face, letting it fall over my back as I use my hands to steady myself, planting them on his abs.

This position drives him deeper, and I’m sensitive, every inch of him sending waves of pleasure through me. "Fuck, you look like a goddess, Y/N," Liam moans, his voice strained, and he helps guide my movements with his hands.

I move faster, hips circling, driving him wild. His moans, raw and primal, spur me on. "That’s so good," he groans.

After a few minutes of blissful, unrelenting rhythm, he flips us again.

"Get on your knees, head down," he orders, voice thick with need. I bite my lip and obey, shivering with anticipation.

His thrusts come from behind, a new angle that has us both gasping. The intensity of it makes me push back, meeting each thrust with frantic urgency. His hands find my arms, guiding them to my back, holding me still as he presses my face into the pillow.

The scent of him—warm, familiar, intoxicating—fills my senses, and then his hand lands on my ass, a sharp slap that has me gasping, a strangled moan escaping my throat. It’s so damn sexy, I can’t help but cry out louder.

He drives into me, relentless, and the pressure builds—faster, stronger—until I’m teetering on the edge.

"Can you come for me, baby?" Liam groans, his hips faltering for just a moment.

"Yes, gods, Liam!" I moan, feeling the waves crash over me as my orgasm hits, intense and overwhelming. Moments later, he follows, his hips stuttering as he spills into me, the weight of his release pushing me over the edge again.

For a moment, we both lie still, breathless, before he gently pulls out and falls back onto the cushions beside me. He takes a deep breath, his body still trembling with aftershocks. I move toward him, resting my head on his chest as he wraps his arms around me, pulling me closer, his bare skin warm against mine.

“That was fucking incredible,” he mutters, his lips brushing my temple.

I smile against him, my eyes fluttering closed. “It was. So, so good.”

[lyvhie]

okay hi haechan anon again!! im back with another request! so I'm missing my taeyong a lot (hashtag military wife..) and I was listening to 2 baddies as any baddie would and. the line "now you wanna ride these wheels" had my legs FOLDED 🥴 those wheels aren't the only thing I wanna ride.

and that brings me to my request. riding tyongie pretty pretty please???

── .✦ everybody makes mistakes

ex-bf!lee taeyong x fem!reader

𓂃 ࣪˖ summary: You were going through a busy time in your life, and going to a party was supposed to help you relax a little and... Well, your ex certainly turned out to be a good distraction. 𓂃 ࣪˖ cw: smut, riding, car sex, unprotected sex, creampie because why not 😞, pet names. 𓂃 ࣪˖ a/n: HIIII, ANOOOON!!! GLAD YOU'RE STILL HERE 😚😚 i get you... i feel like we are 12949 years without tyong, we need him back ASAP, i can't have a happy life if taeyong isn't here PLEASE. ANYWAYS, I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS ONE!

This was definitely not part of the plan. It was supposed to be a fun night at your friend's party—a chance to unwind and forget about the chaos that had taken over your life lately. Honestly, you hadn’t even planned on coming, but your friends had insisted, saying some fresh air would do you good. You finally caved, figuring what was the harm?

Wrong decision.

If you had known your ex-boyfriend would be there, you’d have stayed home.

You thought you were over him, it had been months since the breakup, after all. There was no reason to panic, you told yourself. Besides, he hadn’t even seemed to notice you were there. You could enjoy the night without a care. Or so you thought.

Your eyes kept drifting to him, as if drawn by some invisible force. Watching how he moved through the crowd, laughing, leaning in to whisper things in people’s ears, flashing that smile that used to make your heart race. The same smile he was now directing at others.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to tear your gaze away from him. Focus on your drink. Your friends. Literally anything else, you told yourself, desperate to ignore the annoying tightness in your chest every time you caught sight of him leaning in close to someone else. But it was no use.

You didn’t even need to look. You could feel it. His eyes were on you, burning with that same intensity you’d once found irresistible. Against your better judgment, you glanced over and instantly regretted it.

There he was, lips curling into a smirk, that infuriating, knowing expression that only made your stomach twist further. And then, as if the universe itself was playing a cruel joke, he started walking toward you.

Your heart skipped, and you quickly looked away, pretending to be engrossed in whatever your friends were laughing about. You even forced out a chuckle, hoping it sounded convincing.

Taeyong, of course, wasn’t fooled. He thought it was cute, how bad you were at subtlety, how transparent you always were when you tried to act cool, just as he remembered. If anything, it made him want to reach you faster.

From the moment he approached you and murmured a soft “hey,” everything became a haze, your senses drowning in the intensity of his presence. You remembered the way he leaned in, his lips so close to your ear that his warm breath sent shivers down your spine. His voice was low and familiar, dripping with charm as he told you how much he missed you, how surprised he was to see you there when he knew this wasn’t your usual scene.

His hand had found its way to your waist, his touch firm but not forceful, as if asking for permission rather than demanding it. You hadn’t stopped him. The heat of his body pressed against yours was both comforting and electric, stirring something in you that you thought had long been buried.

Every subtle gesture—a thumb tracing lazy circles on your hip, the way his fingers lingered just a moment too long as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the way his gaze never wavered from yours—pulled you deeper into the gravity of his orbit. You knew you should step back, but instead, you let yourself lean into the closeness, into him, even though you both knew exactly where this would lead.

And all of it led to a kiss, slow, as if to test the waters, then deepening with the kind of urgency that only old lovers can share. That kiss led to lovely whispers and stolen touches, and before you knew it, you were in the parking lot, your heart pounding as he opened the door to the backseat of his car.

The air between you was thick with tension, your breaths mingling as he pulled you close, his hands finding your waist like they never forgot the shape of you. It was reckless and impulsive, the kind of decision that you knew you’d question later—but right now, with his lips on yours and the heat of his body pressed against you, it felt like the only decision to make.

His hands gripped the soft flesh of your thighs, his fingers pressing firmly into your skin as he held you down against him. His mouth was relentless, his tongue exploring yours with a fervor that made your breath hitch. Your hips began to move instinctively, a slow grind against him that drew a deep groan from his lips. The confined space of the car only heightened the heat between you, every movement feeling more intense, more urgent in the close quarters.

You felt his hands slip to the hem of your shirt, ready to pull it over your head, but you stopped him just in time, pulling away from the kiss, both of you panting softly.

"This is a bad idea," you whispered, though your body leaned into his, contradicting your words.

"Maybe," he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses that made your resolve waver. You tilted your head slightly, giving him more access.

"We really shouldn't be doing this," you tried to reason, though your hands remained on him, your touch lingering.

“You can blame the alcohol if it helps," he suggested, his lips tracing a path up to your jaw before capturing your mouth again. You didn't resist, kissing him back.

"I didn't drink that much," you argued softly.

"Then blame me," his hand drifting lower, inching toward the space between your legs, sending a wave of anticipation through you. "You're always good at that."

"Shut up," you retorted, nipping at his lower lip, earning a hiss and a soft chuckle from him. “Tell me to stop," he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his lips hovering just above yours. "And I will, pretty.”

Yes, you just needed to say the word and get out of his car. Of course, that would be the right thing to do, but... you were already this far.

You would blame him.

"Fuck, I'm gonna regret this," you muttered before crashing your lips against his again, kissing him more fervently than before, grinding against him harder, his bulge applying just the right amount of pressure against your core.

Your hands fumbled with the button of his pants, a mix of nerves and anticipation guiding your movements. He was quick to undo yours in return, his desperation evident as he helped you, pulling his pants down just enough while you slipped out of yours along with your panties, leaving no barriers between you.

His hands gripped your hips, guiding you over him, one of your hands rested on his shoulder for balance while the other slid down, wrapping around his hard cock. It throbbed under your touch, and he let out a soft moan at the slightest contact. You stroked him slowly, savoring the way he responded, before lowering yourself just enough to let the tip brush along your slick slit.

He groaned, his fingers tightening on your hips, urging you to stop teasing. "Don't play with me," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. You smiled faintly, enjoying the rare moment of control you had over him, but your own need was overwhelming.

With a soft exhale, you slowly sank down onto him, both of you gasping as he stretched you, filling you completely. Fuck, how he missed this—the feeling of your warm heat enveloping him, just as tight as he remembered. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling your intoxicating scent, his breath hot against your skin.

“You feel so good," he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. You missed this feeling too, the delicious stretch of him inside you, your walls fluttering around him, as if your body was echoing the same sentiment. He bit your neck to muffle a moan, the sound vibrating through you.

And for a few seconds, you both stayed like that, motionless, just reveling in the feeling of him taking up all the space in your pussy. Then, slowly, you began to move, rolling your hips over him before lifting yourself just enough and sinking back down, drawing moans from both of you. His hands slid down to cup your ass, fingers digging in as he followed your movements, his head falling back against the seat with a deep groan.

Your movements were slow at first, teasing, but you quickly found your rhythm, pressing down on him, the sensation sending waves of heat through your body. The heat between you was unbearable, the cramped space of the car amplifying every sound—the wet glide of your bodies, the breathless moans, the creak of the leather seat beneath you.

His hands moved back to your waist and his grip on you tightened, fingers pressing into your flesh as he urged you to move faster. You picked up speed, setting a pace that felt good for you, making him gasp with each roll of your hips.

"That's it, baby," he groaned, lifting his head to watch where your bodies met, eyes dark with hunger. "Just like that... take me deeper."

You bit your lip, trying to stifle a whimper as you obeyed, bouncing harder, grinding down to feel every inch of him. The pleasure was dizzying, overwhelming, stealing what little self-control you had left. His hands left your hips, moving up your body, dragging your shirt up to expose more of your skin.

“Fuck, look at you," he murmured, leaning in to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud. The sensation sent a shockwave through your body, making you clench around him.

A deep, guttural moan tore from his throat as he thrust up into you slightly, meeting your movements. "Shit—keep that up, and I won't last," he warned, voice strained. But you didn't stop. You couldn't. You were too close, too lost in the way he filled you perfectly, the way his body fit against yours like he was made for you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer to kiss you, the heat between you both intensifying. Just as he had said, he wouldn’t last much longer. It wasn't just because it felt incredible, but because it was you.

“Don’t stop,” he murmured, almost a plea, his thighs tensing beneath you. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, every little sound he made pushing you closer to the edge too, but you weren’t there yet.

You didn’t need to say anything; your body said enough. The way you moved, the way you squeezed him with every roll of your hips—it was too much. His grip on you tightened as he groaned deep, his body shuddering beneath you as he came, his release spilling inside you as you kept moving, letting him ride it out.

But he didn’t stop there—you still needed to finish too, and now it was his turn to take care of you. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you flush against him as he buried his face in your neck. Even with his body still trembling from his own release, he started moving again, thrusting up into you with deep, desperate strokes.

A shaky whine escaped his lips as the overstimulation hit him, but he didn’t let up, his grip on you firm, determined. “Gotta make you feel good too,” he murmured against your skin, his voice strained, breathless.

Each thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, your walls fluttering around him, dragging him deeper despite the sensitivity. His name spilled from your lips, hands fisting in his hair as he held you close, chasing your release like it was the only thing that mattered.

His breath was hot against your neck, his movements growing sloppier, more desperate, but he didn’t stop—not until he had you right where he wanted. His fingers slid down between your bodies, finding your most sensitive spot, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that made your thighs tremble around him.

"Come on, baby," he coaxed, voice hoarse, lips brushing your ear. Your grip on him tightened as pleasure coiled low in your stomach, the pressure building with every stroke, every thrust. His name tumbled from your lips, breathless and needy, and he groaned at how good you sounded.

And then, with one more deep, well-angled thrust, pleasure crashed over you. Your body tensed before melting into his, a broken moan leaving your lips as your release washed through you. He groaned at the feeling of you tightening around him, his arms holding you steady as you rode out your high.

Even as your body sagged against his, he pressed a lingering kiss to your shoulder, his breaths ragged, shaky. “That’s my girl,” he whispered, tracing slow circles on your back as he helped you come down.

It wasn’t the smartest decision, you knew that. But, in that moment, you felt... satisfied.

You pulled away slightly to meet his eyes. Your friends had been right, maybe you did need to let go of the weight on your shoulders and relax a little.

"Wanna come home?"

↝ taglist: @yizhrt, @sinisxtea, @peterm4rker.

[neoraso]

bf things with boynextdoor

03z + 04z

sungho

cooks for you without a second thought. wants his baby fed and even before you started dating he always made extra when he knew you were coming around

sticks up for you always. if he sees ANYONE mistreating or teasing you too much he makes sure to end it there.

thinks you're THE funniest person alive. laughs harder and smiles more when you're around

lots of dates (shopping, cafe, eating, museums,etc.) but also loves to just stay in, cook and watch movies with you, talking and cuddling, he serenades you sometimes playfully >_<

loves to play with your hair and hold your hands- so simple but its so endearing and special to him to feel the back of your hand or your fingers curled in his own.

riwoo

was literally so shy around you before you started dating, now you are the person he feels most at home with. he doesn’t say it all the time but it shows when he’s around other people

carries your bags for you, holds your drink, etc. with no hesitance- even if someone points it out

is quite observant about your moods, habits, likes and dislikes. prides himself on knowing things about you no one else seems to care about-especially when he pulls out the most thoughtful gifts that leave you floored

feels a sense of responsibility for your care and overall wellbeing, but also feels incredibly comforted and safe with you

loves to share food and treats with you, all the time but especially when you look like you need a pick me up

jaehyun

he tries to not hang off of you like a backpack but fails within an hour and especially at night

everyone he introduces you to, coworkers, family members, friends, etc., all act like they know you from how much he talks about you. he thinks the world of you and loves to brag

every time he sees you it's like you've been gone for 6 years, even if it's only been a day; hugs so tight and gives 1 billion kisses, coos at you

an obvious mention: cute aggression that occurs so often it might be like a chronic affliction... srsly... kisses your face and head with a surprising amount of force and ur literally js sitting there, minding ur business

he elevates you. he's a great guy who you know deserves the world and it makes you want to live up to that. he feels the same about you and you guys encourage each other to be your best selves.

taesan

loves to have matching items with you (will spend hours customizing shoes or hats for you both)

loves days in where u just listen to whatever records you picked up the last time he brought you to the shop and lay there or slow dance around

lovessss meaningful gifts and gestures. will buy or make you snacks when you’re stressed or just bc would steal the moon for you if you asked

thinks everything you do is so cute and perfect and wonderful. literally so biased he will choose you to win over anyone

likes to pick you up from work or school even if its just to walk to the bus stop together and ride home (greatest protector award goes to…!!!)

leehan

your rock. soothes all your worries no matter how silly they seem. says really profound things like they're simple and- you guess they are when he’s around.

treats you oh so softly; tucks your hair behind your ears, pulls you into a hug like you're glass

nothing is embarrassing to him, he will wash your hair, shave your legs, brush your teeth for you. just ask and he’s there

likes when you sit with him while he watches his fishies,, you dont even have to be watching too but he feels so content with both of his favorite things to be around

the type where if you fall asleep on the couch instead of moving you, he'll just slip next to you to sleep too <<33

[jscrawls]

Widows rest

My take on a Black widow! Reader x Batman and Batfam but with a slight twist, reader doesn't know the Bats but they seem to know them...

Warning: contains avengers infinity war spoilers, black widow spoilers, brief mentions of violence, poor writing, possible ooc,

Part 9: awkward encounters.

🔹🔹🔹

You're carefully brushing through thick, dark hair. Cass sits at her vanity looking like she's impersonating a statue while Stephanie keeps replaying the beginning of the YouTube tutorial in-between bites of her hot pocket.

“does that hurt?” you mumble as you start to carefully twist her hair up, grabbing a hair tie and starting to try to smoothly secure it. Scowling when there's a few hairs out of place.

“No hurt, keep going.” Cass stares at your work through the mirror, following every move while you try to recreate the swan ballerina hairstyle.

“Needs more goo, lots more.” Steph chimes in, wiping her hands clean and shoving her fist into the green hair gel before slapping it on Cass’s head with an audible plap sound, you shiver as some of the cold goop lands on your fingers and slides down slowly.

“…. Very helpful Steph, wonderful addition.” You sigh as Steph Snickers and starts trying to spread the gel around, grabbing for a comb and trying to dig it into the goo covering your daughters head.

“Hey i know what I'm doing! Ballerinas and army chicks probably use even more goo than that anyways.”

“are the cheesy hands necessary?”

“Yes!”

all the while Cass just watches in the mirror with a small smile on her face as you two battle over the hair gel, making a mess as you go.

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Bruce was in a rush when he arrived home this evening, Mr Johnson was gonna give him more grays if he keeps demanding meetings so he can complain about one thing or another. Though the irritation slowly bleeds away as he quickly goes through the manor, they're home right? They should be here somewhere and after the texts he got from Jason and Alfred earlier…he wants to see them.

Alfred catches up to him and stops his quick steps with a roll of his eyes, directing him in the right direction with a muttered “like a headless chicken.” Under his breath before returning to his work.

He hesitates in front of the old oaken door, the rooms totally quiet on the other side, perhaps you're resting, or you want to be alone. You're so…different now, it's probably best to leave.

He hears the bed creak, shuffling of sheets, he Bruce can't help himself but to open the door just a crack.

What he sees makes his chest ache, there you are…sprawled out in the sheets, Wayne golden evening sun hitting you through the wide windows like a Monet painting come to life, fuck he's missed seeing you like this…

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You're startled awake, roughly twisting the hand on your shoulder while you force your weak body against your assailant until you can knock them to the floor with a thump, glancing around wildly until you remember where you are.

Your husband stares up at you with wild eyes, your weight on his stomach making him freeze like a Bambi in a field, one of his hands still pinned in your grip against the hardwood floor. Oh…

“someone's excited to see me.” Bruce blurts out, watching your frazzled expression as you look around the bedroom carefully. Analyzing you like he's worried you'll do something else. he tries not to get lost in the familiar lines of your face from this particular angle

You can only stare down at him when he gives that stupid statement, you release his hand like he's hot to the touch and quickly roll off him, your body now slightly sore from the sudden strain. “…. My apologies.” You're not quite sure what else to say, that dream freaked you out just like the last one, your dreams are bloody and sad, not…. That.

Bruce is quick to sit up, his eyes still trained on you as he stands from the floor. Wordlessly he reaches down and grabs at your arms to pull you up, helping you sit on the edge of the mattress. You just now realize that this looks like a shared bedroom, the butler put you in your husband's room.

“…you don't have to apologize, I'm sorry i scared you. You were moving around so i thought you were awake…” his voice is apologetic as he carefully sits beside you, a respectable distance between you two as he picks the blanket up out of the floor.

you hadn't even noticed it coming down with you when you'd knocked him…

“no, i do. I shouldn't have…” God you're out of it, are you losing your touch? Letting a dream distract you enough to fuck up as soon as you're in the home? This never would have flown in the red room.

“hey it's okay, I'm pretty sturdy actually…you didn't hurt me, i promise.” his hands eases down on top of yours on the bed, his palm warm in contrast. He's so gentle with you that it feels wrong, like it's not meant for you. Natalia would have been this understanding maybe, maybe even James. But they know you, know what you're about, what you've done. This man is speaking to someone he doesn't actually know.

Silence reigns for a few moments, awkwardness quickly replacing the fragile tenderness he'd established, you can see it in his body language that he wants to say something, he's different here, at the hospital he was more…. Assertive, in a way. Now it's like he's walking on eggshells, you can't help but think it's entirely your fault.

“…i heard you were bombarded by the press…” he starts quietly, his hand oh so softly squeezing over the top of yours, his body subtly leaning towards yours.

“It was only two, at most they just annoyed Mr pennyworth.” You glance around the bedroom to avoid his steady gaze, does he have to act like this is a Hallmark movie?

“they struck you, didn't they. Our lawyers are already working on it.” He sounds firm, briefly glancing at your lips.

You'd practically forgotten about the microphone already, you recently died who cares about a bump to the face. “It was hardly anything worth noting, did it even leave a mark?”

Your words are half in jest, but he seems to take it serious as he leans closer and turns your head towards him, you have to remind yourself that he's your spouse so you don't throw him to the floor again.

“…nothing, i think you escaped the paps unscathed.” He lets go, acting like nothing happened as he straightens back up and glances out the window.

“that's nice.”

Another awkward silence, Bruce chews the inside of his lip as he debates continuing.

“…I'm sorry, i wasn't there to pick you up today i…” he sounds awkward, hunching forward enough to rest his elbows on his knees, guilt?

“Mr pennyworth said you were at work, I'm not bothered by what happened.” you sound comforting right? You mirror his body language while you try to get a read on him.

“That's part of it, we thought…i thought there'd be less chance of…well, what happened today. I thought i was doing you a favor but instead i wasn't there to protect you.”

You hesitantly drop a hand on his shoulder to comfort him, you can't help but notice the muscle under your palm as you do, damn he must be doing some kind of calisthenics. You also realize this is probably the first time you've willingly touched him first, not counting the tackle and pin, you'll cringe at that later though.

“nothing happened that i wasn't able to deal with, I'm really fine, so let's not talk about it. okay?” It's a bit harsh, but it gets the message across well enough.

Bruce nods and stands from the edge of the bed with a grunt, sounding like a dad getting out of his armchair. The mental comparison actually almost makes you snort as he starts to wordlessly pull you up from your sitting position, are you going to have to deal with everyone pulling you around like a damn dog from now on?

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