#Keep Razors Sharp
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musicwithoutborders · 2 months ago
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Keep Razors Sharp, Black Rider I Overcome, 2018
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joelletwo · 24 days ago
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i have conquered gf biscuits................ first batch was made inedibly dry and then made into inedible-but-promising-for-future-failures stuffing....... this batch spread out bc it was conversely too wet lol but they bakedddd perfectlyyyy and they taste so heavenly reheated and slathered in butter. im now a real southern woman
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justarandomhelluvablog · 11 months ago
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Okay so obviously the more important thing here was Angel's reaction to it, but
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Husk's face when he realized Valentino was there.....
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if-loki-was-a-fox · 1 year ago
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Headcanon that c!Ranboo would be genuinely very intimidating and dangerous if it weren't for the fact that they'd cry if they hurt a fly
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frame-of-mind-au · 2 years ago
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Does Steven ever try to hurt himself in this AU? I wanted to write/draw something angsty.
He does! Not intentionally, it's more of a nervous tic that turns destructive. He pulls on his hair when he's upset or frustrated, and he starts to do it so often and so hard he pulls his hair out.
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gcldfanged · 1 year ago
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"Oi." Tseng knocks Jae lightly over the back of the head to get their attention; he's smiling. It's rare lately that he is in such a good mood. "I've been thinking about dishes from home, and I gave in and had some ingredients imported. So you're coming to mine for dinner tonight."
It's not an order but it's not a request either. Cooking was something Tseng only did rarely, and the times he did he always prefered to share with his Turks in one way or another. He prided himself in his cooking, he just never had the time... Jae's own food always helped to soothe that homesickness that came over him occasionally, he hoped he might return the favour. (God i miss these two)
Normally, seeing a smile on Tseng's feline features gave rise to no small amount of worry. There was something different this time, no cheshire smirk promising something beyond surface level facial expression.
"Oh? I'd be honored, hyungnim. Need me to drop by the restaurant and grab my kit?" Food connected people, sated their ills and woes, brought back fond and treasured memories of times past. Jae-hyo would rather eat with someone else than spend an entire meal alone, perhaps it was simply due to his upbringing. Still- being invited to Tseng's residence to help him prep sounded like it was going to be, dare he say, fun.
"What kinds of stuff did you order? Give me an idea."
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spiinsparks · 2 years ago
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         ||. concept: an entire thread where your muse and sonic are in a burrow at night camping out , w sonic at the top of the burrow bc Hedgehog Spines Keeps the Danger Out
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nightfallsystem-moved · 9 months ago
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i cant keep doing this but i refuse to stop not that i get a choice
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sincerelyneo · 2 months ago
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diet pepsi | n.jm
“losing all my innocence in the back seat”
📀now playing: diet pepsi by addison rae
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❯ summary: Jeno has one rule — his little sister is not allowed at street races. Jaemin knows this, and still, he can’t help but feel a thrill when he spots you sneaking out to watch him race. That is, until he sees you with another guy, and suddenly, he’s all in favor of Jeno’s rule. And he’s pretty sure that rule also means he should intervene and give you a ride home.
❯ pairings: jaemin x virgin fem!reader
❯ genre: brother’s best friend, smut, racing!au
❯ words: 5.6k
❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, swearing, arguing, jealously, pet names, car sex, unprotected sex (don’t do this!), oral sex (fem!receiving), fingering, virginity loss, slight corruption kink, bit of angst, ‘daddy’ mentioned once but not in a kink way?, jaemin is lowkey a dramatic asshole in the first half, mention of marking, reader uses she/her pronouns, literally just a jealous brother’s best friend trope because it eats every time
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Jaemin’s blood runs cold when he sees you—wait, what are you even doing here?
He’s never been so tense in the driver’s seat before. He’s usually all calm and controlled, razor-focused on the track, with only one thing on his mind: winning. And he’s pretty damn good at it. But today, he can’t seem to focus. Not with you—Jeno’s little sister—standing right there on the sidelines, sticking out like a beacon in a crowd of rowdy onlookers.
So out of place, timid and awkward. Normally, he’d find it cute if he wasn’t so pissed that you’re even here. You don’t belong among his reckless racer friends, the ones with wandering eyes; and the girls with short skirts, heavy perfume, and sharp eyeliner.
He’s never been this distracted at the starting line before, never found anything particularly interesting to gaze at through his freshly cleaned windshield. But there you are. 
Ripped blue jeans clinging to every curve that he’s spent years thinking about—too many nights with his hand wrapped around his cock, imagining how his fingers would mold and print into the soft flesh of your skin. And those cherry-red lips—they make pride swell in his chest, a small thrill from knowing he’s the only racer here with a red car. It’s probably just a coincidence, but Jaemin lets the possessive part of his mind take over, because he wants nothing more than to see that red smeared around your cheeks as he kisses you—wants it to stain him like a claim.
God, what’s he even thinking?
You’re his best friend’s little sister. Off-limits.
Speaking of which, why are you here? Jeno’s not racing tonight, and he’d kill you if he found out. Actually, Jeno would kill him, even though Jaemin had no idea you’d even show up. Jeno hated you being at the races on a good day, let alone when he wasn’t here to keep an eye on things.
And maybe that’s why, for the first time, Jaemin’s gaze drifts to his side mirror as he speeds off. Because Jeno’s not here to watch over you—so he has to. Yeah, that’s it. It’s for Jeno’s sake. Definitely not because he’s worried about you. And definitely not because he likes the way your cherry-red lips part in a cheer—a cheer he likes to imagine is all for him.
Who’s he kidding? Jaemin loves knowing you’re here, watching him race. Honestly, it’s the biggest rush he’s ever felt—the purest shot of adrenaline—and he’s never pushed this hard on the track. But right now, he only wants to win for you.
And he does, slamming on the brakes, coming to a screeching halt the second he crosses the finish line. A few friends clap him on the back as he gets out of his car, congratulating him, but he doesn’t care about them. He only wants you—to hear you say he did great, to see that proud look in your eyes. He wants you to beg him not to yell at you for sneaking in tonight… or worse, promise he won’t tell Jeno.
Except, Jaemin’s not so sure he can negotiate on the “no yelling” part of that deal. Not when he spots you in the crowd, looking up at Jisung. Jisung, who’s got your attention on him instead of his win. Jisung, who’s making you laugh—and Jaemin knows he’s not that funny. Jisung, who’s handing you a can of Diet Pepsi—and you’re just taking it, smiling at him with those red lips, lips that don’t belong to him. 
Jaemin knows Jisung doesn’t have a bad bone in his body—Christ, the guy wouldn’t hurt a fly, and he’s one of his racer friends. Still, he doesn’t like the way you lean in when you laugh or how you’re looking up at him with pretty eyelashes fluttering. It makes something stir in him, something sharp and possessive. Without thinking, he storms over, snatching the damn can from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours in the process.
You gasp, the sound almost too soft, "Woah, Jaem–"
"What are you doing here, Y/N?
You stumble back, heart skipping in your chest. He’s looking at you like he’s about to devour you whole. Gaze locked with yours, primal and urgent, scanning you with a heat that makes your breath hitch, throat going suddenly dry. You came here to see him—no one else. But the way his eyes are on you now...you don’t know whether telling him that would be a good idea. 
You swallow hard, feeling small beneath the weight of his stare. “I—uh, I—I’m just… here to watch,” you mumble. "I didn’t think it’d be a big deal..."
Jaemin doesn’t respond right away, his eyes narrowing as they flick over you, then over to Jisung, then back to you. "Alone?" he finally asks. "You just showed up here by yourself?"
“Well yeah–I didn’t think anyone would mind..."
"Jeno’s gonna fucking kill you when he hears about this," he mutters exhaling sharply, the tension in his jaw is visible as he crosses his arms. "You know he doesn’t like you being here.” His eyes flicker to Jisung for a moment before they shift back to you, a little colder. "And I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to know you’re accepting drinks from other racers, huh?”
Your brow furrows, a tinge of annoyance creeping in. "It’s just a can of Diet Pepsi, it’s not—"
Jaemin cuts you off. "It doesn’t matter what it is," he snaps. "What matters is that you’re here, without telling anyone where you were going. Without Jeno knowing." He shakes his head in disbelief. 
You scoff. "I’m an adult, Jaemin. Jeno’s not my keeper, and neither are you–"
Jaemin’s jaw tightens, and something flickers in his eyes—something dark. But just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone. "That’s not the point, Y/N," he growls, his voice lowering. "The point is you’re here, at a street race, by yourself. You think that’s smart? You think that’s safe?" He takes a step closer.  "What if something happened to you?" 
"I’m fine, Jaemin. I can take care of myself, okay?" Your voice cracks, frustration spilling out, but the sound doesn’t make Jaemin soften like it usually would.
He steps even closer, towering over you, his presence dominating, and you can feel his breath on your face, hot and quick. “This—this shit—" he gestures around to the crowd, the cars, the racers that surround you both, "this is not safe for you. You shouldn’t be here."
Your hands curl into fists at your sides, jaw set as you refuse to back down. "Why? You and Jeno come here every other weekend?” What’s the big deal?" 
"The big deal, Y/N, is that you're a pretty girl, surrounded by a bunch of horny assholes who'd love nothing more than to corrupt a sweet little thing like you."
Your breath catches in your throat, and your mouth goes dry as his words hit you like a punch. You blink, trying to process, but the anger in his eyes is enough to make your pulse quicken. Jaemin must realize what he’s said because there's a brief moment of hesitation. He clears his throat, trying to regain control.
"And you never told anyone," he tries to add, his voice a little less steady now, "And you're letting random guys buy you drinks—"
"I already told you. It was just a Diet Pepsi, Jaemin. You’re blowing this way out of proportion!" You cut him off. 
You don’t even know what you’re arguing about anymore— and you’re pretty sure he doesn’t either—it’s like he’s mad for the sake of being mad, the two of you going around in circles.
And frankly, you're tired of it. This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go. You’ve always had a thing for Jaemin, and now was supposed to be your chance—your shot to make him see you as more than just Jeno’s little sister. You knew he’d be distracted with the race, but you thought if you showed up, maybe he’d finally notice you, really see you. But instead, he’s making it perfectly clear that you’ll never be anything more than that girl he feels the need to protect.
“Stop treating me like a child, Jaemin,” you sigh. “I’m not some fragile little girl who needs you to babysit her." 
You turn on your heel, ready to walk away from him, but before you can take more than a few steps, Jaemin’s hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.
"No. We’re not done talking."
He steps forward again, grip on your limbs tight but not painful, and before you can even process what’s happening, he’s pulling you toward the exit, the sound of your shoes hitting the pavement is far too loud in the heavy silence that’s settled. 
"Jaemin, wait!" You tug against him, stumbling slightly, trying to free your wrist from his grasp. "I’m not going anywhere with you. I told you, I don’t need you babysitting me—"
"I’m not asking." His voice is low and final. "You’re going home, and you’re going with me."
"Let go of me!" You hiss, still trying to yank free, but he just tightens his grip, pulling you with him as if you’re a ragdoll.
Jaemin finally stops, turning to face you, his eyes sharp with frustration. He growls at your protesting, stepping into your personal space. "I’m taking you home, Y/N. Don’t argue with me."
You stare up at him, chest heaving with anger and something else—something you don’t want to admit to yourself. "You’re insufferable," you mutter, but it’s weak. 
You know you’re defeated. There’s no point in fighting him anymore. His presence is suffocating, overwhelming, and every fibre of your body knows he’s not going to let this go until he’s got you back home. You have no choice but to comply really. And you groan whilst slipping into the passenger seat of his car, imagining the story he’s going to muster up for your brother. 
Jaemin gets into the driver’s seat, his body tense and irritated, and you almost feel bad that he can’t celebrate his win—almost. He places the can of Diet Pepsi in the cup holder, the soft clink of the can echoing through the car. Then, without breaking his focus, his gaze flicks to you, his voice low and commanding.
“Seatbelt.”
You huff, rolling your eyes as you slide it on. “Yes, daddy.” 
The moment the words leave your mouth, Jaemin’s jaw tightens, the muscle flexing under his skin. His eyes darken for a split second, a dangerous glint flashing, something that makes your pulse stutter for just a moment. His fingers curl around the steering wheel, gripping it a little tighter than necessary as he tries to compose himself.
He clears his throat, shifting slightly in his seat, nostrils flaring. “Don’t push your luck, Y/N.”
You sink into your seat with a sigh. The silence in the car hangs as he drives, thick with awkwardness and annoyance. Your throat still feels dry from the argument, and before you can even think about it, you reach for the can. The cold metal soothes your fingertips. But the second your lips brush against the rim, you can feel Jaemin’s eyes on you—hot, intense, and focused.
You can feel him watch your every move, and as you pull the drink away from your lips, his eyes narrow in on the red stain your lipstick left on the silver rim. His grip on the steering wheel tightens, jaw tightening with it, his gaze flickering between your lips and the can in your hand. Without warning, he snatches it from your fingers, one hand still on the wheel, eyes focused and full.
Then, Jaemin presses his own lips against the spot where yours just were, right over the mark you left. Sipping the drink slowly — savouring it.
“What the hell are you doing?” you ask, voice a little breathless, startled.
Jaemin’s eyes widen, and for a split second, his grip tightens on the can before he abruptly pulls it away from his mouth, tossing it into the cup holder without a second glance. His brows furrow as he tries to make sense of his own actions, as if he’s suddenly aware of how ridiculous he must look. His mind is reeling—over a simple lipstick mark on the rim of a can. Something so innocent, yet it’s driving him crazy.
He clears his throat, trying to regain an ounce of composure, but his voice cracks slightly. "I was, uh..." He hesitates, biting back a sharp breath, his eyes flickering to the road before snapping back to you. "Just making sure it wasn’t spiked…?"
It sounds weak, even to his own ears, and he knows you’re not buying it. The way your lips part tells him everything. You narrow your eyes at him, a little too sharp for comfort. 
“Spiked?” You glance at the cup holder, where the can now sits innocently. “How would you even know from the taste, Jaemin? Not to mention Jisung gave me this, that boy wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
Jaemin knows that. Still, he curses under his breath, running a hand through his hair as the frustration builds in his chest. His entire excuse is a mess, just like the thoughts spinning in his head.
"Look, let’s call it precautionary, okay?" His voice is clipped and there’s a tightness to it. "Don’t make it a big deal."
You lean back in the seat, a small bitter laugh escaping you. “Me making things a big deal? Oh, the irony.”
He doesn’t respond or bite back or try for the final word and it makes the silence thicker. Jaemin’s grip on the wheel is so tight his knuckles are white, and honestly, you don’t know how long you can keep doing this.
“You're impossible, you know that?" The words slip out before you can stop them, and your chest tightens as soon as they do. "I didn't come here for you to babysit me or make me feel like I need your protection. I came here because I—" You stop yourself. 
Jaemin's head snaps to you, "Because you what?" 
For a second, you can’t speak. The words are right there, but they feel too big, too much to let out. You’re caught between the urge to spill it all or keeping it hidden, scared to change the dynamic. But you’ve been pretending for too long, playing by the rules, and now, you want to stop hiding.
“I came here because I wanted you to see me,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “Not as Jeno’s little sister. Not as some kid. I wanted you to see me… as me.”
Jaemin doesn’t react, not at first – well, he does, but it’s subtle. His hands go completely white around the wheel, his jaw clenched so tight you can almost hear it. Without saying a word, he pops the indicator on and pulls over, the tyres screeching slightly as he brings the car to a sudden stop.
You freeze, and a small wave of panic bubbles up inside your chest. Did you say the wrong thing? Did you make it weird? He’s your brother’s best friend, and now you’ve crossed that weird line that’s bound to make everything awkward. Jeno’s gonna kill you.
You swallow hard, waiting for him to snap, to tell you how messed up this whole thing is.
But he kisses you. 
His hand on your cheek, without warning, pulling you into him, and consuming your lips with a force that steals the air from your lungs. It’s not gentle like you expected him to be. He’s typically always gentle with you — unless he’s mad, which right now, he is. This kiss is desperate. Hungry. And you like it because it’s the kind of kiss that makes your body forget how to breathe. The kind of kiss that tells you he doesn’t see you like a kid – like Jneo’s little sister.
“You drive me fucking insane, you know that?” Jaemin growls, nudging your noses together. His hands find your waist, to grip it. “You walk around in those jeans clinging to your ass, with your cheeks flushed, and that fucking lipstick the same shade as my car.”
You giggle softly against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You noticed?”
“Of course I fucking noticed,” he groans.
Jaemin’s lips trail down your jawline, each kiss slow, and teasing, and needy. The desperation in his movements is evident like he’s trying to savour every inch of your skin. The feeling is foreign to you—each soft press of his lips sends a rush of heat through your body. The simple touches make you gasp, drawing a low, satisfied groan from him as he feels the reaction in your body.
His breath catches, lips brushing softly along the sensitive curve of your neck as he pulls you closer. His hands tighten around your waist, and the pleading in his voice intensifies, but there’s no mistaking the hunger in it. He’s holding back, trying to keep his composure.
“Tell me this is a bad idea, Y/N,” he whispers, his lips grazing your skin with kisses. “Tell me you don’t want this.”
Your breath is shallow and you can’t help the way your body reacts to him. The way your hands find their way into his hair, fingers threading through it as you desperately tug on it, unsure of what else to do. 
“Please, angel, you have to say no,” he murmurs into your neck, his voice low and desperate. 
“Don’t want to,” you whimper, shaking your head again. “Want you, Jaem. Always wanted you. Only you.”
"Fuck..." he groans, his lips trailing away from your skin to look at you.
And what a pretty sight you are. Eyes glazed with lust, pupils blown wide, dilated with something raw and needy. So innocent, so forgiving, so eager – so fucking his. It’s enough to make him painfully hard, though he was already straining. Hearing you say you've always wanted him – and only him – had already sent a rush of heat straight to his cock.
Jaemin can’t help himself. His hand reaches out to caress your cheek again, his thumb teasing the softness of your bottom lip. You gasp, and his pupils darken, fixating on the way your mouth parts, the red colour staining his thumb. It’s everything he’s ever dreamed of—a perfect fantasy. 
“You’re gonna get me in so much trouble, gorgeous.”
He’s still hesitating, and you can feel it — you fucking hate it. Something takes over you, and without thinking, you take his thumb into your mouth, deep, sucking hard. Jaemin practically growls, his lips parting as a hiss escapes him from the sight. 
A switch flips, and in one smooth, deliberate motion, he yanks his thumb from your mouth, kills the engine, and climbs into the backseat. His eyes are sharp as they focus on you, which tells you to follow suit. He doesn’t care that on paper this is a ‘bad idea’. His cock is telling him it’s the best one he’s ever had.
It’s clear the moment you climb into the backseat, the way his body shifts into something animalistic. You try to settle beside him, but Jaemin doesn’t let that happen. He grips the hem of your shirt, yanking you down and onto his lap. The heat from his body radiates through the thin fabric of your clothes, his chest pressing hard against yours as his hands slide possessively around your waist.
His hands roam down your back and you can feel the hard press of him against your ass. It makes your pulse spike and your sweet red lips fall open for him, making him smirk with pride. His lips trail down to your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he murmurs your name, low and rough.
It’s all-consuming. Hot and desperate. Panting and breathless. Bodies moving in sync. The car heats up from your bodies softly grinding against each other. His hands are everywhere. 
“Angel,” he growls, his voice low with restraint, “if you keep grinding on me like that, I won’t be able to stop.”
You bite your lip, keeping your rhythm steady, your hips pressing into his. “Good.”
Jaemin catches a hand around your jaw pulling you away from his lips. “I’m serious, Y/N. Are you sure you want this?”
You nod, your gaze heavy with need.
He shakes his head, “I need words, gorgeous.”
“I want this.”
Such a simple phrase shatters his restraint, unravelling him completely. With a growl, he tosses you onto the back seat, lips trailing hotly down your body until he’s between your legs. His fingertips graze the waistband of your jeans, and he leans in, voice a low whisper.
“Can I?”
You nod, but he shakes his head, his eyes dark with hunger. “Say it.”
“Yes...” You breathe, the word barely escaping your lips, but it’s all he needs.
The jeans slide down your hips and ass, past your thighs, until they’re bunched around your ankles. Jaemin’s eyes flicker down, landing on your panties—darkened with dampness.
"So wet from just a little grinding?" He raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "So fucking cute."
A rush of heat floods your chest. You’ve never done this before. And suddenly, it’s all too much, too fast. His words, your own desperate need, the car, the argument... everything crashes together. Without thinking, you press your legs closed, embarrassed by your body's reaction.
Jaemin's brows furrow as he watches you closely. "You okay?"
Your cheeks burn with a blush, stuttering as you struggle to find your voice. "I-I-uh," you falter, hoping he’ll say it, ask you the question. But he doesn’t. His eyes are fixed on your mouth, waiting for you to say it.
"I’ve never done this before."
Jaemin’s eyes flicker with something dark before he hums lowly. “You still want this?”
You nod, not trusting your voice.
“Words, Y/N.”
“God—yes.”
A satisfied smirk curves on his lips. “Good,” he murmurs. “Your body’s a fucking work of art I’ve been dying to see, and I never want you to feel embarrassed about showing it to me—and only me, yeah?”
This time, you don’t nod. You meet his gaze, voice steady as you tell him, “Yes. Only you.”
He smiles, hands resting on your knees as he gently eases them apart, his gaze fixed on you, completely mesmerized. If someone had told him this was how he’d be celebrating his win tonight, he’d have laughed in disbelief.
But now, his knuckles brush over the front of your underwear, a feather-light touch that sends a spark through you. Your hips react on their own, bucking slightly as his fingertips tease your sensitive nerves through the thin damp fabric.
“You’re so fucking wet.”
He drags his fingers to your waistband, sneaking underneath to run a soft finger up your slit, drawing a gasp from your lips. He takes that as permission to slip the pair down your legs, meeting the same fate as your jeans somewhere in his car. 
Jaemin keeps his eyes dead set on you as his fingers work to find your clit. The moment he does, he starts working slow, taunting patterns against it, each movement deliberate and unhurried. The sensation is leg-numbing, sending waves of pleasure through you—so much better than when you do it yourself. 
“Tell me how it feels,” he demands, “I wanna know how I’m making you feel. Tell me.��
Your mind is spinning, words slipping through your grasp, and all you can manage is a choked, incoherent moan. It’s not enough for him. Dissatisfied, he sinks his middle finger into your pussy at your silence. You jolt at the intrusion, the feeling intense and foreign, but his eyes stay locked on you, waiting.
“Tell me,” he groans, relishing in the feeling of how tight you grip around his finger.
“F-feels good,” you manage to stammer.
“Yeah?” he taunts, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips as he slowly picks up the pace. “Want more?”
“Yes–” you nod eagerly. He wastes no time, slipping his ring finger inside to join the first, matching the rhythm, savouring the warmth encapsulating around him, and you unravel beneath him.
You watch him through half-lidded eyes, breaths shallow and quick, completely undone from the tortuous pace of his fingers. Jaemin’s expression softens as he takes you in, a quiet, satisfied coo slipping from his lips.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, “So sweet… so vulnerable just for me.”
A low chuckle escapes him as he feels your walls threatening to tense, wanting to flutter around his fingers, and it sends another wave of pride through him. He shifts his eyes down, and without hesitation, takes your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue in slow, devastating circles.
If he’s going to make you cum for the first time, it’ll be on his fingers and his mouth—he’ll make sure of it.
“S-so good, Jaem—” you gasp, voice trembling as his mouth and fingers work in perfect sync, pushing you closer to the edge.
He hums against you, the vibration sending another jolt of pleasure through your body. “Yeah?” he murmurs, lips still pressed to your skin. “Gonna let go for me, huh? Let me feel it.”
His words, his touch—it’s all too much, and you can feel every nerve on fire as he coaxes you over the edge until you’re cumming from the steady rhythm of his fingers and the relentless, teasing laps of his tongue. You're a shuddering mess beneath him from the orgasm he’s given you. 
He fucking loves it, looking in complete awe.
As you start to come down, muffled whines still slip from your lips, riding out the aftershocks of your release.
“What is it?” he prods, his voice smooth but persistent, but all you can manage is a frustrated sigh, annoyed with his stupid teasing tone. “Angel..I don’t know what you want if you don’t tell me.”
"All I want is—" You gasp when he lightly brushes your sensitive clit again,"—your cock."
A smug smirk tugs at his lips. His hand slides to rest possessively on your hip as he moves to hover above you, his gaze locking with yours.
“Are you sure?”
You nod, your lashes fluttering with need, and he takes that as permission to rid himself of his pants, his hand wrapping firmly around the base of his cock. He positions himself carefully, just at the edge of your pussy. 
It’s not how you’d pictured your first time—definitely not the romantic, cute scenario you’d always fantasized about. But one thing was certain: Jaemin was here, and that’s all that really mattered. Though, you hadn’t expected him to be this… big.
He picks up on the hesitation in your eyes, sensing the tension coiling tight in your chest.
With deliberate slowness, he slides his length teasingly between your drenched folds, making your breath catch as your nerves tense.
“I’ll take it slow,” he pulls down to murmur against your lips. 
You nod, your lip caught between your teeth, biting down hard enough to taste the metallic tang as he presses his tip against your cunt. His other hand grips your hip, his fingers digging in as he applies pressure, holding you in place. He stays perched above you, eyes fixed on your face. 
"Keep looking at me," he says, watching the way your face squirms. "Please."
His begging has you fighting to keep your eyes from fluttering shut, staying locked on him as you watch the way his pink lips part, the way they twitch, holding back a moan when he inches forward just enough to feel his tip slip past the threshold.
He pushes forward in a slow, savouring motion, and when he finally sinks into you completely, you stretch around him. Your brows furrow, caught between the sting of pain and the rush of pleasure. His teeth catch his lower lip, holding it there as a low, skin-tingling moan rumbles deep in his chest, his body staying still, giving you a moment to adjust.
“Please move,” you beg, barely able to get the words out, desperation lacing your voice.
He struggles to keep his breathing steady as he watches your face, studying it for any sign of discomfort. Once he’s sure you’re fine, he begins to draw his hips back slowly, his movements deliberate and deep, wrecking you as he rolls his hips forward, filling you again.
Your eyes want to flutter shut, the bliss almost too much to keep conscious but you want to please him. Jaemin pulls you closer, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss, and you moan into it, the sound pulling a breathless, stomach-knotting whine from him.
He increases his pace, and you cry out, your head falling back as your hips begin to meet his. One of Jaemin’s hands tightens around the side of your waist, grounding you as he drives deeper, faster, harder — greedy. 
You move feverishly, hips bucking wildly as you try to take him deeper, craving the way his cock stretches you, hitting every nerve with overwhelming pleasure.
"You're so fucking beautiful," he gasps. "Keep looking at me. I wanna see how pretty you look when I’m making you feel good."
You can only respond with a breathless gasp that catches in your throat as he buries himself deeper, rolling against you whilst your nails dig into the fabric on his shoulders.
His hand slips from your hip for a moment, reaching for your fingers to guide them down where your bodies are connected. His fingers curl around yours, bringing your hand to your throbbing clit. You take the hint, fingers moving instinctively to find the sensitive bundle, desperate to ease the tightness building in your abdomen.
"Not gonna last long, angel," he breathes, his voice ragged. "But I need you to feel good."
"Fuck," you whimper. Your hips begin to writhe, chasing the pleasure as every part of your body burns with need.
“So fucking warm and wet and tight,” he groans, forehead slick with sweat. 
Your bodies feel like they’re burning, the car steaming up with heat, the windows fogging so thickly that you leave a handprint on the glass as you steady yourself against Jaemin’s building deliberate thrusts. 
He’s fucking into you with an erotic urgency, as if he’s trying to spill out every fantasy he’s ever had about you since Jeno introduced you. It’s like he’s remembering, all at once, that he’s broken all the rules—off-limits, bro code—and he doesn’t care anymore. Doesn’t regret it one bit. Because the feel of you on his cock is totally worth it.
Your stomach starts to tremble as warmth floods your lower half, your muscles contracting and fluttering around him. The feeling overwhelms you, and it only encourages him to slow his rhythm, to drag out your orgasm as long as possible. 
Jaemin finally caves, moving his face to nuzzle against you. Your hands find his hair, tugging him up so you can kiss along his neck, your lipstick staining his flesh, marking him with that signature red colour.
You keep your hips rolling with his, even after the earth-shattering orgasm he’s just given you. Every cry, whimper, and moan spills from the back of your throat at the force of him, your voice chanting his name in a string of desperate mumbles. Your body convulses and shakes as you clamp around his length, and he grunts at the feeling, whispering praises to coax you through it.
He snaps his hips upward, grinding his body against you to savour the feeling. His muscles begin to shudder, jolting as he gasps for air, his own orgasm hitting him hard.
Hearing and feeling him lost in so much bliss only stretches the aftershocks of your release, both of you a mess of limbs and shameless sounds. Then, you feel him still completely, his release erupting in warm spurts, filling you and making you feel full of him. He’s everywhere—his scent, his kisses, his cum.
You’re left utterly spent, like a limp puddle, but Jaemin stays closely intertwined with you. You both inhale ragged breaths, neither of you daring to break apart. You’re reduced to fluttering glances weak panting and slick skin.
Jaemin’s eyes shift toward the side window, his fingers gently combing through your hair before he presses a soft kiss to your forehead.
And when he finally tries to move, there's a sudden clink, and the faint sound of liquid splashing. You both glance down at the Diet Pepsi can now toppled over and spilling its contents all over the car seat. A muffled chuckle escapes Jaemin's lips as he shakes his head.
“That stupid fucking drink,” he mutters with a grin. 
“You should be grateful,” you hum, “Without it, we probably would never have fucked.”
Jaemin shakes his head and laughs, but the humour quickly fades as his expression turns serious. He leans in close again, his lips brushing yours. 
“Not true,” he murmurs. “I’ve wanted you ever since I met you. I would’ve made a move eventually.”
“Oh yeah?” You tilt your head, teasing him. “What’s been stopping you?”
“Jeno,” Jaemin says quietly, and it’s like it hits you both at once.
Your stomach twists in knots, the mention of your brother, Jaemin’s best friend, suddenly making everything feel... wrong. 
“What are we gonna tell Jeno?”
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demonsfate · 1 year ago
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i was also thinking about dj's true form. and i was thinking about how the devils all seem to have a gemstone or armor/steel theme to them. and then i was thinking about how dj has soft feathers, and how that would look if he had something like kaz's second devil form. the feather wings seem like they'd be contrasting.
but then i thought. he'd still have feathers, but they're blades. really sharp, painful blades that can slice through skin with ease should he flap his wings at somebody.
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strangelittlestories · 1 year ago
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After the occupation, the princess was confined to the palace.
Once a month she'd be taken on a walk around the city, heavily guarded of course, to show the people that she still lived. It also served, of course, as a reminder of what they stood to lose if they made trouble. The princess did her best go wave and smile and give the people what encouragement she could.
The rest of the time, her life was spent in musty rooms and dusty towers. She filled most of her time scouring the castle for materials which she would sew into more and more elaborate outfits, which she would show off on the days when she was allowed outside.
Indeed, the public loved their princess and her dresses so much they'd often sketch or paint them along the route and pass the images on so that all could see the princess at least was well.
This pleased the occupiers for two reasons. First: it kept the princess out of trouble. Second: it gave them a reason to sneer and they did love a good sneer.
"What a vain creature she is!" They would remark.
"Doesn't even care we murdered her brothers so long as she gets enough satin to make her little dresses!" They squawked.
This was unfair, of course, for to call her creations "little dresses" was to call Queen Murderfun the Needlessly Genocidal "a tad piquey". Her dresses were gravity-defying wonders lace and pearl. They were thunderstorms captured in velvet and waterfalls summoned in silk. She was a wizard with silk.
Still, she bore their mockery with a tight smile and careful deference.
"Please, good sirs, my home, my people and my city now belong to you. Let me keep, at least, this one last joy."
And they sneered and they crowed most unpleasantly, but they let her keep her sewing room.
Of course, they would have known their mockery to be doubly unfair had they realised the true purpose of the princess's elaborate designs. For hidden in the intricate embroiderings across her gowns, jackets and fans, the princess had encoded secret (and very detailed) messages. When she would go on her monthly walk, the city's loyalists would line the route, sketching down the patterns to decode later.
Thus did the princess transmit all the occupiers' secrets (unearthed while supposedly 'searching the castle for old fabrics') to the city and thus did she build her resistance.
On the day the revolution finally came, she girded herself in armour of thick spider silk and whale bone. She cut a fine figure with a lacy handkerchief in her top pocket and a razor sharp knitting needle keeping her hair up.
As she waltzed through the castle to open the door for her army, the Usurper King tried to stop her and she simply unfolded her handkerchief and showed it to him.
Upon seeing the impossible arcane pattern emblazoned across it, he fell to the floor with blood streaming from his eyes.
She always had been a wizard with silk.
---
Thank you for reading. If you'd like to support my writing, you can do so at https://ko-fi.com/strangelittlestories
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ozzgin · 6 months ago
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I just finished playing Firewatch and the cozy, lonely vibes gave me another monster idea! You got a summer job as a fire watch for the closest National Park. All you have to do is to sit in your tower, and...watch. For fires. Sounds boring? Worry not, your supervisor is there to keep you company over the radio. Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, obsessive behavior, suggestive ending
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"And? What are you running away from?"
"Excuse me?"
You raise your eyebrows at the unexpected question coming from the radio. The deep voice belongs to your supervisor, the man who'll guide you throughout your stay at the National Park.
"No one picks up an isolated job in the mountains out of sheer desire. Especially someone as young as you." He chuckles briefly, then resumes in a more professional tone: "My apologies. You don't have to answer that."
What a strange way to begin the conversation, you think to yourself. Yet this nonchalance and casualty is all you have for the following months. The other watchtowers don't talk much, if at all. You're entirely alone in the wilderness, save for the mysterious man on the radio.
Slowly, you begin to warm up to his chatty nature. He likes to ask a lot of questions. A terribly curious individual, though you can understand his reasoning: he's been working for the Park for over a decade. How does one survive without another human being?
He never leaves his tower, and thus you've never seen his face. He's content, you're indifferent. Occasionally, he'll mention sketching you to pass the time.
"How would you describe your eyes, (Y/N)?" he'll ask between his pencil scribbles. "I see. I'm sure they're beautiful. Why are you suddenly quiet? Have you forgotten how to take a compliment? I'm just messing with you, kiddo."
You haven't witnessed a single fire since coming here, despite the torrid summer heat. Your days are spent hiking without aim and talking to your supervisor.
One morning, you wake up to the grating beep of the radio instead of your alarm. You pick up the small device with an irritated grunt.
"Would you like to meet?"
You need a moment to process the words. Are you finally going to greet the one man who's kept you distant company for weeks? Intriguing. You mumble your agreement, still half-asleep.
As you make your way down the hill, you notice a supply station covered in moss and overgrown vegetation. You check your map, just to be sure. There shouldn't be anything here. What a peculiar thing to stumble upon. You approach the old wooden box and lift the lid carefully.
The musty inside is filled with rows of newspapers and some scattered notes. You pluck one newspaper out, and rest your eyes on the first headline.
"National Park is saying goodbye to its employees. The area will be permanently closed after the devastating fire."
You gawk at the title, then at the photographed location.
It's your watchtower.
You scramble to read the rest of the paragraphs, words slipping behind in your frantic search. This forest has been sealed off for years. You recognize the name of your supervisor in the report: a father of three, loved by everyone, died tragically before a rescue team could reach him.
"Found anything interesting, kiddo?"
You turn around with mild hesitation. Whoever this impersonating maniac is, or what he wants, is rather irrelevant at this point. You're trapped alone with him.
Across from you stands a creature, resembling a chimera more than a human being. Long, grotesque limbs ending in black claws, hollow eyes, and mangled rows of razor-sharp teeth put together in a grin. Monstrous.
You're out of breath.
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"That looks great", the creature remarks cheerfully.
"Don't use my voice to talk. It's embarrassing to hear myself like that", you lecture it as you spread out the food onto the picnic blanket.
It switches back to the supervisor's soft, masculine tone.
"Sorry, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable."
The monster extends one bony hand over your head, fanning out the fingers and dragging them across your hair in gentle strokes. What a precious little human you are.
You did not run away. A terrifying thought: losing you after all the time spent together. It didn't want to chase you down and make it even worse for you. But you stayed, you truly did.
"By the way", you say as you bite into your sandwich, stretching out your legs. "Is it you who prevents the fires? Usually it's a common occurrence here, especially in summer."
You recall the scorching flames from the newspaper.
"Yes. To keep you safe, you understand."
"Not only did you lie to me about the job, but you kept me out of work, too", you whine. "I got bored to death! Days on end!"
You're suddenly pushed down into the blanket, and you stare into the spiraling, empty sockets, confused.
"I can entertain you to your heart's desire, (Y/N)."
Its snout widens in a flirty smile, releasing a bizarre succession of clicks. Is it laughing in its natural voice?
You blush.
"I suppose there are some ways..." you suggest cheekily, unbuttoning your shirt.
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[More Monsters] | [More Original Works]
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roturo · 6 months ago
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SUCCESSOR -`♡´-
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summary: He believes he’s going to die soon, and the idea of leaving the Kira case unfinished gnaws at him. The thought of his legacy fading away too soon is unbearable. He needs a successor. And soon.
warnings: A LOT of breeding, smut, unprocteted sex, overstimulation, multiple rounds, pwp, tummy buldge, mentions of cum, mating press, virgin!L, obssesed!L, mentions of forming a family, not proof read and sleepy while writing this. and more.
a/n: ik this is going to have as much support as my other works, but it's def one of my best and favs writings, so please show me your support with a comment and reblog! it means a lot for me!
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You've been part of the task force for a while now, ever since L handpicked you for his elite team. As a regular member, you've earned your place and trust within the group. The necessity of keeping your identity hidden has diminished, thanks to the expanding team, but you still opt for an alias during meetings, maintaining a veil of secrecy around your true connection to L.
L’s mind is a labyrinth, each thought of a winding path leading to an unknown destination. His strategies are always a step ahead, his deductions razor-sharp. Yet, despite his brilliance, one specific thought has been haunting him lately:
He believes he’s going to die soon.
This isn't a paranoid delusion but a calculated assessment. L understands the immense dangers tied to the Kira case. The complexity of the situation has grown, and he suspects an external force at play, one that eludes even his grasp. This unknown entity has shifted the balance, making the case more perilous than ever.
L is determined not to let his legacy end prematurely. He has dedicated his life to solving the world’s most challenging mysteries, and the idea of leaving the Kira case unfinished gnaws at him. The thought of his legacy fading away too soon is unbearable.
He needs a successor.
And soon.
Finding someone who can match his intellect and tenacity is no simple task. The successor must be able to understand his intricate methods, to carry on his relentless pursuit of justice. The urgency of this mission weighs heavily on him, as he prepares to identify and groom the next guardian of his legacy.
You were the perfect match for him, and his calculations confirmed it. There was an 86% probability that having a child with you would result in someone with a higher IQ than his own, combined with the social skills he lacked. In the realm of interpersonal relationships, L was inexperienced, never having had a relationship or intimacy before. Recently, he had been contemplating how to propose this idea to you.
Should he ask you outright? Should he try to make you fall in love with him first? No, this wasn't about love. It was a precaution, a step in his investigation, a way to ensure his legacy continued if the worst were to happen.
The atmosphere in the headquarters was tense as always, the dim lighting casting long shadows across the room. You sat at your desk, engrossed in your work, when L’s quiet footsteps approached. His presence was magnetic, his aura of mystery and intellect always palpable. He paused beside you, his gaze fixed on the monitors displaying the latest updates on the Kira case.
“Can we talk?” His voice was soft, almost hesitant, a rare departure from his usual confident demeanor.
You looked up, surprised by the uncharacteristic uncertainty in his tone. “Of course, L. What’s on your mind?”
He shifted, glancing around the room as if searching for the right words. “There’s something I need to discuss with you. It’s… personal.”
Your curiosity piqued, you nodded, giving him your full attention. “I’m listening.”
He took a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours. “You’re aware of the importance of my work, of the dangers we face daily. The Kira case has made me realize that I must consider contingencies I hadn’t thought of before.”
You nodded, waiting for him to continue.
“There’s a… statistical analysis I’ve conducted,” he said, his voice becoming more clinical as he explained. “It suggests that if I were to have a child with someone of your intelligence and social capabilities, the child would have a higher IQ than mine and possess the social skills I lack. This could be crucial in continuing my work if anything were to happen to me.”
The gravity of his words hit you like a ton of bricks. L, always methodical and rational, had approached this highly personal matter with the same analytical mindset he used to solve cases. You could see the logic in his plan, yet the implications were overwhelming.
“So, you want me to… have a child with you?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.
“Yes,” he replied, his eyes unwavering. “But understand, this is not about emotions or personal desire...I think” He whispers to himself before he continues– “It’s a precaution, a part of my contingency planning. I’ve never experienced a relationship or intimacy, so I’m uncertain how to approach this.”
The room seemed to close in around you as you processed his request. It was a cold, calculated proposition, yet it carried a weight of vulnerability and trust. L was placing his future, his legacy, in your hands.
“How do you expect this to work, L?” you asked, your voice tinged with both curiosity and trepidation.
“I’m not sure,” he admitted, his facade of invincibility cracking slightly. “I’ve considered different approaches. Should I simply ask you directly? Should I try to make you fall in love with me first? But this isn’t about love. It’s about ensuring that if I am no longer here, someone capable can continue my work.”
A silence fell between you, heavy with unspoken thoughts and emotions. L’s eyes searched yours, looking for understanding, perhaps even acceptance. You could see the conflict within him, the struggle between his logical mind and the unfamiliar territory of human connection.
“I need time to think about this,” you finally said, your voice gentle but firm.
L nodded, a flicker of relief crossing his features. “Of course. Take all the time you need. This is not a decision to be made lightly.”
Finally, you made your decision.
One evening, you found L in his usual spot, hunched over his laptop, eyes glued to the screen. The dim light cast shadows across his face, highlighting the intensity of his focus. Taking a deep breath, you approached him, your heart pounding in your chest.
“L,” you said softly, breaking the silence. He looked up, his piercing gaze meeting yours.
“I’ve thought about what you asked,” you continued, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “And I agree.”
For a moment, L simply stared at you, processing your words. Then, slowly, he nodded, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge of his desk. “Understood. Thank you for your cooperation.”
You took a seat across from him, the air between you charged with a new sense of purpose. “How do we proceed?”
L leaned back, his thumb brushing his bottom lip in thought. “We need to ensure this doesn’t disrupt our work or compromise the investigation. The task force must not be aware of our personal connection, as it could create complications.”
You nodded, understanding the delicate balance that needed to be maintained. L’s expression remained impassive, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. “I must admit that emotional connections are not my area of expertise. This will be… a learning experience.  Should… we do it tonight?”
“Ah- Ah- Slow down, L-Lawliet!” you gasped, your voice breaking with a mix of pleasure and urgency.
L’s thrusts were sloppy but fast, driven more by instinct than experience. His movements lacked rhythm, a clear sign of his inexperience. He had come twice already without withdrawing from you, his body responding purely on primal urges.
He had done his research, concluding that a mating press might be the most effective position for this purpose. But he never anticipated how overwhelmingly good it would feel. Was it like this with everyone? Or was it something unique because it was you?
His thrusts grew more erratic, almost desperate. Small whines escaped his mouth, each one tinged with your name like a prayer. You could feel every twitch, every movement inside you, the raw intensity of his desire almost too much to bear.
“L,” you whispered, trying to regain some control. “You need to… slow down.”
He nodded, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. “I’m trying,” he panted, his voice unsteady. “It’s just… so overwhelming.”
His usually sharp, calculating mind seemed lost in the haze of sensation. Every thrust, every brush of skin against skin, was a new experience for him. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between maintaining control and giving in to the raw pleasure.
He moaned at the familiar, overwhelming sensation of climaxing again, and you could feel your own release approaching. The intensity was almost unbearable when he grabbed a pillow and slipped it under your back, angling you into an even deeper mating press. His thrusts became more deliberate, his cock somehow reaching deeper, hitting your g-spot with precision over and over again.
The pleasure was so intense, so all-consuming, that all you could do was chant his name like a mantra, each syllable a prayer of ecstasy. “L-Lawliet,” you breathed, your voice trembling with the force of your impending climax.
He watched you with dark, hungry eyes, his own pleasure driving him to thrust harder, faster. “S-shit,” he gasped, his breath hitching, “I think—” His words dissolved into a whine as he came again inside you, his release flooding your womb with a desperate, addictive need.
This wasn’t just about producing a successor anymore. It was about the raw, primal satisfaction of filling you over and over again. He was captivated by the sight of your bodies joined, the way your mixed arousal leaked from where you were connected, glistening in the dim light.
“Lawliet,” you cried out, your own climax hitting you with the force of a tidal wave. Your body tightened around him, milking every last drop of his release as he continued to thrust, his movements erratic and needy.
He whimpered, the sound vibrating through his chest as he pressed his forehead against yours, his dark hair falling in a messy curtain around your face. “You feel… incredible,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion and exertion.
He groaned before pressing his lips to yours, the kiss deep and fervent. His cock remained erect inside you, pulsing with an insatiable desire. The feeling of having you this close, of being connected so intimately, was overwhelming. In that moment, he lost all sense of reason and the initial purpose behind his actions.
His mind, usually so sharp and focused on the Kira case, was now clouded with visions of a future he never thought he'd consider. He imagined how adorable you would look, carrying his child, a baby with his eyes and your smile. The idea of having a family with you consumed him, pushing all thoughts of logic and strategy aside.
Without realizing it, he began thrusting again, the movement instinctual and desperate. Each thrust was deliberate, fulfilling the small bump of cum inside you that was already visible through your tummy. He watched in awe, fascinated by the sight of your bodies joined so intimately, the tangible evidence of his desire and your shared pleasure.
“L-Lawliet,” you gasped against his lips, your hands clutching his shoulders as he moved within you. “What... what are you thinking?”
He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “I’m thinking… I’m thinking about us. About a future I never allowed myself to dream of.” His voice was rough with emotion, a raw edge that you rarely heard.
Your heart swelled at his words, the vulnerability in his usually composed demeanor striking a chord deep within you. “Lawliet,” you whispered, your fingers tracing the contours of his face. “I never imagined… I never thought you’d want this.Want me”
“I didn’t either,” he admitted, his thrusts growing more purposeful. “But now, with you, that's all I can think about. The idea of you carrying my child, of us having a family…you in general… it’s overwhelming.”
He kissed you again, more gently this time, savoring the softness of your lips against his. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through you, the sensation heightened by the emotional intensity of the moment. His hands roamed your body, memorizing every curve, every detail.
“Do you… do you want this too?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly.
“Yes,” you breathed, the admission freeing a weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying. “I want this. I want us.”
His eyes darkened with a mix of relief and desire, and he kissed you harder, his movements inside you becoming more urgent. The room filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, each moan and gasp a testament to the bond growing between you.
As he continued to thrust, you could feel the tension coiling tighter within you, each movement pushing you closer to the edge. He seemed to sense it too, his rhythm intensifying as he chased his own release.
“Lawliet,” you cried out, your climax hitting you with the force of a tidal wave. Your body tightened around him, every nerve ending alight with sensation.
He groaned, his own release following closely behind, filling you once more. The feeling was addictive, the raw intimacy of it all-consuming. He held you close, his forehead resting against yours as you both caught your breath.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” he whispered mostly to himself, his voice filled with wonder.
“Neither can I,” you replied, your heart pounding in sync with his. “But it feels right. It feels perfect.”
He nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “It does.”
You stayed entwined like that, savoring the afterglow and the newfound depth of your connection. The Kira case and the outside world faded into the background, replaced by the warmth of each other’s presence and the promise of a future together.
Eventually, as the reality of your situation began to seep back in, you knew you had to return to your duties. But the bond you had forged would remain, a source of strength and comfort in the days to come.
As L gently pulled out and helped you adjust, he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. “We’ll figure this out,” he said softly in a small whisper. “Together.”
“Together,” you echoed, your heart filled with a certainty that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them side by side.
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dystopyx-blog · 5 months ago
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Stuck in TWST without meds
and also they're yandere or something
@shironakuronatasa here you go pookie <3
Because everyone is different, I'm gonna be focusing on the meds I take and the things I experience! If you're inspired to write one of your own based on your types of meds, go for it! I'd love to see others' takes on this :3
I'm still writing in 2nd person, but you/mc is heavily based off of me!
(And if you still want a personalized one but don't want to write it, my commissions are open/hj)
Tw for one mention of suicidal ideation.
Imagine...
You don't quite have a clusterfuck of things going on in your head, but sometimes it can feel like it. Autism, Anxiety, depression, and ADD. Thankfully, you have access to medication, and they work well for you.
Although you can't keep the downward spiraling from the depression and anxiety away completely, it is far more manageable with your medication. You've found that when off them, you are far more prone to completely fall apart at even the slightest inconvenience. It feels like constant stormy waters, with stormclouds that only make the waves worse. But when on them, the storm disappears. Yes, the waves still get rocky and tip your boat from side to side, but you're emotionally stable enough to handle them.
Then the meds for your ADD. With them you have the razor sharp focus to not only take care of projects and work, but also to simply take care of yourself. When off of those, even simple tasks like taking out the trash can take hours, especially since you so easily forget steps, and will stop the chore in the middle, genuinely thinking it's complete.
But you have your meds, so you manage just fine.
Until you're sucked into Twisted Wonderland.
First of all, even if you had already taken the meds for anxiety/depression, there's not much they could do in the face of being transported and consequently trapped in a different dimension. But they do still help, and instead of bawling, you manage to keep a cool (enough) head and get yourself settled into Ramshackle.
But they don't last you long. They had built up in your system enough to last you a few days, but time and circumstances were not on your side.
Even though Grim is by no means an emotional support pet, and is by all means a little shit, he manages to push his pride aside when he can tell you really need it.
Especially the days where you wonder if death is what will bring you back home...
Grim will act as if he helps you for his own purposes, but he is genuinely there for you.
The others, however...
First of all, quite a few of them don't completely understand... you're extra sad and spacey, but you had some kind of magic to help with it back home, but you don't have them here, and without them you get... sad and spacey?
Riddle probably sees it as some pathetic excuse. It's not until after his overblot that his tune completely changes and he is giving you all the special treatment. Even if you mess up on purpose, even if it's something that really frustrates him, he'll justify it as you not knowing any better. Which is patronizing as hell.
Ace will use it to his advantage. Getting into trouble and having you take the brunt. And you play along with it, because, again, Riddle is treating you like an incompetent child, so you are all for raising Cain with Ace. What Ace really loves about this, though, is that it makes you more willing to hang out with him, and more likely to dislike Riddle.
I imagine Deuce has something going as well, though I don't quite know what, and neither does he. But he finds a kindred spirit in you. Study sessions with him are a MUST, and you share your different study and coping tactics, while he stares at your lovely face.
Trey relishes in caring for you. If you're having any kind of sudden increase in stress or sorrow, he is fucking there. He will scoop you up and take you to the kitchen and treat you with his home baked goodies right then and there. Same with your academics, if you need help with academics, it's to the kitchen for tutoring. And as bad as it is, he finds himself wishing you'd give in and lean on him completely.
Leona will also be there for you in depressive episodes. He sees how you always go to Grim when your upset, notices the little things that Grimm does that helps, and starts subtly using them whenever you're upset. Not even just if it's depression/anxiety related, if you're upset with him specifically he'll start purring in that low register that has your heart slowing. He'll rest his body on your chest as a weighted blanket. He'll let you pet him and comb through his hair. All until all you associate Leona with is safety and comfort–as you should from a mate.
Ruggie is SUCH a little meanie at first! Specifically regarding your ADD. Once he sees how much it genuinely upsets you, though, he'll back off. He does have a manipulative streak, though, and will use your anxiety against you. Any way he can get you to distrust others and seek him out is a good way.
Jack is one who does not fuckin understand at first, but once he does, he's supportive. He asks if there's anyway he can help and you offhandedly tell him about emotional support dogs, and he is locked on. He's embarrassed by it at first, of course, but he can tell how safe it makes you feel, and like Leona he is completely fucking for that. Though he won't just be emotional support, no, he'll be the guard dog chasing away anything that could possibly trigger you.
School is very difficult for you without your ADD meds. You can manage, but it is far more stressful and difficult than it needs to be. So, of course, you have those generously offering to help you–specifically Azul, who's more than willing to help... at a price, of course.
Floyd really likes when you daze off in class... When you're staring blankly, mind thinking about so many things except whatever the professor is droning on about. The way your eyes glaze over, the way you're so focused on whatever the fuck is going on in your head, the way your lips part ever so slightly... All your idle habits are endlessly entrancing to him. And, goes without saying, every single time you're especially depressed, he offers a good squeeze session.
Jade, the manipulative bastard, will purposely set you up for failure so that you feel like you need to go to him for help. Because lord knows Azul will make you pay for it, but not your good friend Jade. Plus, if you ever mention how hiking can help with mood, lord save your soul...
Jamil is such a DICK. He will be degrading you at every second, completely taking over whatever it is you try to do. Even if it has nothing to do with him. God, you remind him of Kalim, but at least you don't have the nerve to be so fucking happy all the time. A sick part of him likes when you're sad. You're less annoying when you're depressed, specifically, without little energy or motivation to do or be anything else. He'd happily take care of you then. He'll do whatever you need done. You'd probably do it wrong anyway.
Kalim feels so fucking seen and understood. He honestly felt like some kind of freak for so much of his life, but you... you're kinda like him! A lot sadder though. Your very existence brightens his life, so he's made it his mission to brighten yours. He also really can't stand it when you're with others. It's so obvious you two are meant for each other! He views your shared ADD symptoms as evidence of soulmateship.
Vil is another case of not fully understanding. You're making excuses. Until he takes it a bit too far, pushes even more than what you can handle, and you fully break down in front of him. You're so completely and utterly vulnerable in that moment. He doesn't know if it's a very dedicated manipulation tactic to get out of his nitpicking, but... he becomes a little more sympathetic with you. Vil recognizes that, for whatever reason, you do in fact seem to struggle more with certain things. And yet, despite that, you still try. You continue push yourself, even if what youre pushing towards is, by other people's standards, the norm/mediocrity/minimum. And in you he starts to see a bit of himself. Especially since, let's face it, with depression, anxiety, and add, it is very likely you relate more to Vil than you do Niege. He helps you, and in turn you help him, though you don't even realize it. Helping you be happier with yourself helps him be happy with himself. And he'll fucking slaughter anyone who takes you away from him.
Rook, like Vil, is easily able to recognize how much you not only struggle, but how much you try. And he finds that incredibly beautiful. Needless to say, he is often watching you. Everything you do is enchanting. He memorizes every. single. stim. and habit. Sometimes when you get frustrated, he just wants to scoop you up in his arms and shower you in kisses, but then you'd realize he broke into your room...
Epel will see how much you get pushed around, and takes it upon himself to defend you. He also sees a bit of himself in you. Sometimes he purposely waits around you, and at the first sign of trouble, he'll attack.
Sometimes you just get too fucking overstimulated and you need a break. And in those times, you've found Idia to be the best person to go to. You both started off pretty distant. You approached him, upset, and asked for a quiet place. You put in headphones and just laid down right there. The two of you just sat in silence, with headphones in, doing your own things, blocking out the world. And, oh, how Idia came to crave those moments. He began to depend on you for comfort, ans hoping that you would similarly come to depend on him. You're different from those other normies, you're the only one who gets him so please just stay with him! He will start to modify his room to be the perfect sensory room, the only place in the school you can go to fully regulate yourself. He starts going out with you, acting as if you're really helping him step out of his shell, when really he just wants to spend more time with you, and will continue to shy away from everyone else and hide behind you. This man desperately needs you to need him as desperately as he needs you.
You are so. Fucking. Cute. Malleus finds your every single quirk so fucking attractive. He doesnt like, however, seeing you so upset. So sad. And the kind of sad where he is helpless to help you. He also really doesn't like it when you're upset at yourself. Don't you realize you're perfect? And who cares if you're not good at any of the school stuff? Malleus doesn't. You don't need any of those skills anyway, with Malleus Draconia here to always take care of you.
if you want the rest of diasomnia or the secret character I subtly didn't include lmk
part two out now!!
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kateschi · 20 days ago
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ᯓ★୭˚. RIVALS OR MORE?
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જ⁀➴ “what are we?” event masterlist
synopsis: a question lingers between you and bakugou, sharp and biting, much like the competition that keeps pulling you back into each other's orbits.
pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader
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the rivalry between you and bakugou katsuki was the kind of tale that pro-hero rookies whispered about, an unrelenting contest that started years ago at u.a. high.
from the moment the two of you stepped onto campus, it was as though the universe had aligned you as polar opposites.
bakugou’s explosive temper and fiery quirk were impossible to ignore, while your sharp tongue and precise control made it clear you wouldn’t be overshadowed by anyone—especially not him.
it began in your first year, during basic hero training, when aizawa-sensei had paired the two of you for a sparring match.
bakugou’s smug grin was infuriating as he rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles.
“don’t cry when i wipe the floor with you,” he sneered, crimson eyes blazing with confidence.
“save the big talk for someone you can actually beat,” you shot back, stepping onto the mat with your head held high.
the match was chaotic. bakugou’s explosions came fast and furious, his relentless offense forcing you to dodge and counter at a breakneck pace.
but you refused to give ground. the air smelled of smoke and scorched fabric by the time aizawa called it a draw, both of you battered and breathless.
bakugou wiped a streak of soot from his face, glaring at you. “next time, I’ll crush you.”
“not if I crush you first,” you retorted, wincing as recovery girl dabbed ointment on a nasty burn.
from that day on, the rivalry became a constant. every training session was a chance to prove who was better.
even the smallest victories turned into battlegrounds.
group projects were a nightmare for anyone unfortunate enough to share the assignment with the two of you; more than one teammate had begged for reassignment just to escape the tension.
things reached a boiling point during the training camp in your second year. paired together for a survival exercise, the friction was immediate.
bakugou stomped through the forest with his usual impatience, barking orders as if he expected you to follow blindly.
“stop lagging behind!” he snapped, glancing over his shoulder to where you were scanning the dense undergrowth.
“I’m not lagging,” you replied coolly, stepping over a fallen log with deliberate ease. “I’m thinking. you should try it sometime.”
“don’t start with me,” he growled.
despite the bickering, the two of you worked with a kind of unspoken rhythm, covering each other’s blind spots without even needing to communicate.
you hated to admit it, but bakugou’s sheer power was impressive, and his instincts in a fight were razor-sharp.
it was during that exercise that the dynamic shifted, if only slightly.
when you stumbled into a hidden trap, a quick snare wrapping around your ankle, bakugou had reacted instantly. his explosions shredded the ropes in a matter of seconds, his glare more intense than usual.
“can’t believe you let yourself get caught like that,” he muttered.
you rolled your eyes, brushing off dirt as you got back to your feet. “thanks for the save.”
“whatever,” he huffed, looking away, but you caught the faintest twitch of a smirk.
those moments were rare, fleeting, but they stuck with you. even as adults, long after u.a. had become a memory, the rivalry burned just as brightly.
every headline that mentioned bakugou’s latest exploits made your blood boil. every time your name appeared in the rankings above his, you could practically hear him grinding his teeth.
it was a constant, infuriating reminder that he was always just there, always pushing you to be better—even when you hated him for it.
for years, you’d managed to keep your distance, tackling different missions. it was better that way. no distractions, no arguments.
but the pro-hero commission had other plans.
their reasoning was infuriatingly logical: two top-ranking heroes with a proven track record of results, a shared history of success despite—or perhaps because of—your rivalry.
and so, without consultation or warning, your paths were forcibly crossed again.
the moment you’d seen bakugou striding into the meeting room, your stomach had twisted in a knot of irritation and reluctant anticipation.
the years apart had done little to dull the intensity of his presence, nor had they cooled the fire of your rivalry.
bakugou walks to the far end of the table and plops down, his arms crossed over his chest, his usual scowl firmly in place.
his crimson eyes flicker with barely restrained irritation, and the rhythmic tap of his boot against the floor echoes in the silence, each strike a silent drumbeat to his rising impatience.
you sit at the opposite end, your posture mirroring his, arms folded tightly across your chest. your jaw locks, muscles taut as you resist the urge to roll your eyes for the umpteenth time.
“why the hell do I have to work with you?” his voice cuts through the silence, sharp and jagged, carrying with it a heat that isn’t entirely metaphorical.
his glare burns into you, daring you to fight back. so you lean forward, meeting his fire with your own.
“you think I’m thrilled about this, bakugou?” you snap. “this mission is too important to let your ego screw it up.”
his foot stills mid-tap, and for a moment, the room feels unnervingly quiet. then, he scoffs, his lips curling into a sneer as he leans forward, his tone dropping to a dangerous growl.
“my ego?” he bites out, the heat in his voice rising. “you’re the one who’s always trying to prove you’re better than me!”
you can’t help the smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. there’s a certain satisfaction in lighting his fuse.
“that’s because I am better than you,” you shoot back, your tone teetering on smugness.
his jaw clenches, veins visibly straining against his neck as his temper flares. his hands twitch as though he’s moments away from letting loose a barrage of explosions just to make his point.
before he can retort, a sharp clearing of a throat slices through the air like a knife.
the tension snaps, both of you glancing toward the commission’s representative.
“enough,” she says, her voice steely and cutting. her gray eyes are cold as they flicker between you and bakugou, clearly unimpressed by your outbursts.
“you two are professionals. act like it. this mission requires complete cooperation, and I don’t care how much you dislike each other.”
the word cooperation feels like a slap in the face. you straighten in your chair, jaw tightening as you cast a sidelong glance at bakugou.
he glares at the holographic display now—typical.
the display flickers to life, illuminating the room with a sharp blue glow as the mission briefing begins. details of a criminal syndicate tied to a dangerous quirk-enhancing drug fill the room.
you nod along, taking in the information, though you’re acutely aware of bakugou’s every shift, every exhaled breath.
as the meeting draws to a close, the representative’s tone grows pointed.
“this mission is high-stakes. your ability to work together effectively will determine its success—or failure.”
bakugou stands abruptly, the screech of his chair against the polished floor startlingly loud. “fine,” he mutters, his voice low and clipped as he stalks toward the door.
you sigh, rising to follow. “try not to blow everything up before we get the intel, okay?”
he shoots a glare over his shoulder, but there’s something almost amused in the way his lips twitch, like he wants to snap back but can’t quite muster the effort. “just stay out of my way, h/n.”
the door shuts behind him with a heavy click, and you let out a long breath.
the mission hasn’t even started yet, and already you feel the weight of it—not just the stakes but the inevitability of clashing with bakugou.
the city below buzzes with its usual hum of activity: flashing neon signs, the occasional honk of a car, and distant murmurs of a world that never quite sleeps.
the syndicate’s hideout looms in the distance, nestled within a secluded section of the city that seems to thrive on the shadows.
the building is plain, but you know better than to judge based on appearances.
you glance at bakugou, who is already adjusting his gauntlets. the metallic clicking of his gear fills the silence between you, his movements sharp and methodical.
“I’ll take the front. you sneak in through the back,” bakugou says, his voice laced with the kind of confidence only someone like him possesses.
he looks at you, his crimson eyes sharp and unyielding. “stay out of my way.”
you raise an eyebrow at his commanding tone.
there’s something about it—something that always gets under your skin. but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of showing it.
“typical bakugou,” you say with a smirk, shaking your head in exaggerated disbelief. “always going for the flashy entrance. no wonder they call you ‘dynamight.’”
bakugou’s lips twitch into a smirk of his own.
“yeah? and what do they call you? ‘miss perfect’?” his voice drips with the challenge, and you feel the simmering heat of competition between you two.
you raise your chin, your confidence just as unwavering as his.
“‘h/n,’ actually,” you correct, your voice dripping with mock sweetness that masks the genuine pride you feel for the name.
“because I get the job done without leaving a mess behind.”
his lip curls into a scowl, and he mutters something under his breath that you don’t quite catch, but you’re pretty sure it’s some variation of “show-off.”
you chuckle as you move into position. his temper is always so easy to provoke, yet it never fails to amuse you.
crouching low, you disappear into the shadows, the familiar rhythm of working alongside bakugou settling in like a second skin.
despite your constant bickering, you have to admit there’s a certain harmony in how you two work together.
as you make your way to the back entrance of the hideout, you hear the distant thrum of bakugou’s footsteps as he moves toward the front.
you know he'll create a commotion, likely to draw attention and give you the perfect opportunity to slip in unnoticed. it’s his style—loud, chaotic, and effective.
you pause for a moment, assessing the situation. the back door is guarded, as you expect, but not too heavily. you’ll have to move quickly, but this is your element.
the guards are predictable, and you can use that to your advantage. with a quiet breath, you step forward, easily dispatching the first guard with a well-placed kick that sends him tumbling silently into a dark corner.
everything is going according to plan, and for a moment, you feel the familiar rush of adrenaline that comes with the territory. you aren’t just good at this—you’re damn good at it.
but as you near the main floor, the sound of shouting catches your attention, followed by the unmistakable crackle of bakugou’s explosions.
your heart skips a beat. it’s too early for things to go sideways—he isn’t supposed to be discovered yet. but, knowing bakugou, you don’t doubt he’s already drawn half of the syndicate’s attention.
the man never does know how to be discreet.
you curse under your breath but push forward, pressing yourself against the cold concrete wall as you move deeper into the compound.
every instinct you have screams at you to hurry, but you can’t afford to be sloppy—not now.
as you round a corner, a sharp crack of sound pierces the air—one you immediately recognize as a gunshot.
before you can react, something slams into your side, sending you sprawling across the floor. pain shoots through your ribs, and the world spins in a blur as you fight to stay conscious.
you stagger to your feet, heart racing.
your vision is blurry from the shock of the blow, but you manage to focus. the guards have noticed you—no surprise there—but now you’re outnumbered.
as you prepare to defend yourself, the familiar sound of bakugou’s explosions rings out, closer than before. your mind screams at you to hold on, but the pain is beginning to cloud your thoughts.
the world seems to slow as you brace yourself against the oncoming guards.
blood pounds in your ears, your vision narrows, and every muscle in your body screams for you to move—but you’re frozen.
you can feel the gunshot wound throbbing, hot and raw, in your side. your breaths come in sharp, jagged gasps as you prepare for the worst.
and then, everything explodes.
it’s as if the entire world has been set on fire.
a massive blast of force erupts from the far side of the room, so powerful it shakes the walls and sends debris scattering.
you instinctively throw yourself to the ground to shield yourself from the shockwave, your hands scraping against the cold floor.
when the smoke and dust begin to settle, a familiar voice cuts through the haze.
“hey! move, dammit!”
bakugou appears in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the fiery remnants of his explosion. his eyes lock onto you with a terrifying intensity.
you barely have time to process the sight of him before he charges toward you, his powerful form cutting through the remaining guards with ease.
with one swift motion, he sends a group of them flying, his explosions igniting the air with a deafening roar.
the remaining guards scatter, too intimidated by bakugou’s wrath to continue their assault.
“y/n, get up!” he barks, his voice sharp as a whip.
his eyes are on you now, and the anger in them isn’t the same as usual—it’s raw, a mix of frustration, fear, and something else you can’t quite place.
you push yourself to your feet, stumbling slightly, the pain in your side making every movement feel like you’re dragging a weight behind you.
“don’t you ever do something so goddamn stupid again!” bakugou growls, his voice low and thick with rage.
he isn’t even looking at the enemies anymore, but at you—his gaze pinning you in place.
you straighten, ignoring the blood staining your shirt, and shoot him a glare.
“what were you thinking, bakugou?” you snap, your voice rough but defiant. “you think charging in here like that’s any better?”
bakugou’s jaw tightens, and his eyes narrow. the tension between you is palpable. but then, with a sound that almost resembles a growl, bakugou snaps.
“don’t try to turn this on me!” he barks. “you could’ve been killed! you think I’m gonna just let you die in some goddamn back alley like this?”
his voice breaks, cracking just slightly as he glares down at you, his fists clenched at his sides. “what were you thinking?! do you want to die or something?!”
for a moment, you’re struck silent. the anger in his voice is so raw, so unfiltered, that it takes the wind out of you.
but the hurt behind it makes your chest tighten. you have never heard bakugou sound like that before. never seen him this...desperate.
“why do you even care, bakugou?” you ask, your voice softer than intended. you hadn’t meant for it to sound that way, but it’s too late to take it back.
bakugou freezes, his eyes widening for a fraction of a second before he scowls, looking away as if he hasn’t just heard you.
the silence that stretches between you is suffocating, and you can’t help but feel exposed.
you aren’t sure what possessed you to ask such a question, but the way bakugou is standing there, his posture tight and his fists still trembling, makes you feel the need to.
“I just—do, okay?” bakugou finally mutters, his voice gruff and not nearly as confident as he usually sounds. “now quit acting like you don’t need help for once, and let’s get the hell out of here.”
you stare at him, disbelief gnawing at you. he’s...worried. maybe even scared.
for a moment, the world outside of you falls away, leaving just you and bakugou standing there in the wreckage.
but you don’t want to let him see how much his words affect you.
not now, not while you’re still trying to make sense of everything.
“don’t get all sentimental on me now, bakugou,” you mutter, a weak smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you try to brush off the intensity of the moment. “I’m fine. just need a second.”
but bakugou doesn’t seem convinced. he steps forward, his hand—hesitant but undeniably gentle—hovering near your side as though waiting for your permission to help.
you catch his eyes for a moment, and for the first time in a long while, you see something other than his usual cocky arrogance. something softer.
“don’t push yourself, alright?” he mutters, his voice quieter now, almost awkward. “I don’t want to drag your ass out of here next time.”
you swallow the lump in your throat and nod, trying to ignore the warmth spreading in your chest at his words.
for a few moments, everything seems suspended in time.
the world outside is still, the only sound the occasional rush of wind.
you can feel the intensity of his gaze lingering on you, his presence more solid than ever before.
it’s a strange feeling—this unspoken connection, the weight of his concern settling between you like an unvoiced understanding.
despite his usual tough exterior, there’s no mistaking the softness in his actions, the care that has been there all along, hidden beneath layers of pride and deflection.
and for the first time, you can’t ignore it.
the moment passes, though, and as quickly as it comes, you both fall into your familiar roles, quickly finishing up the mission.
the two of you barely speak on the way back, the silence stretching between you as you navigate the now-empty streets.
every once in a while, bakugou glances your way, but he never says anything.
as you both enter the safehouse, the cold interior air does little to ease the pounding headache building in your skull.
bakugou drops his gear by the door, his shoulders stiff with tension. he moves like he’s still on edge, as if the mission hasn’t quite ended for him.
you take a seat on the couch, trying to ignore the throb in your side as you start to peel off your tactical vest.
“you should get that looked at,” bakugou says, his voice still rough with exhaustion. “you’re lucky I didn’t leave your ass behind.”
you shoot him a pointed glare but don’t respond.
instead, you take a breath, looking down at the hand gripping the fabric of your vest before finally speaking, your voice quieter than usual.
“bakugou,” you start, the question from earlier swirling back in your mind. “why do you care so much?”
his back stiffens, and you can feel the tension in the room crackle like static. he turns to look at you, his expression unreadable for a moment.
then, his eyes soften—just barely—but enough to make your heart race in your chest.
“you think i’m gonna let some idiot hero get themselves killed?” his voice is harsher than it needs to be. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”
but the words feel like a cover-up.
you see it in the way his hands ball into fists, the slight tremor in his jaw, like he’s trying to push something down.
you tilt your head, an eyebrow raising. “no, seriously. you’ve been acting like a goddamn wrecking ball this whole time, but that’s not really your style, is it?”
bakugou glares at you. “shut up, will you? I did what needed to be done. not everything’s about you.”
but you’re not ready to drop it. there’s a knot in your chest that won’t loosen, and you can feel the words slipping out of your mouth before you can stop them.
“don’t lie, bakugou. you’re acting weird. you’ve never cared this much before. what’s going on?”
there’s a long silence. you watch as bakugou’s eyes flick to the side, his lips pressed. finally, he lets out a breath, long and slow, and walks over to the window.
“I don’t have time for this, alright?” his voice is low. “I just—”
he pauses, like the words are stuck in his throat.
the long, drawn-out silence stretches between you like an unspoken confession. it’s raw, and despite every instinct telling you to back off, you don’t move.
“I just... I just don’t want to lose you, alright?” his voice cracks just slightly as he finally turns to face you, eyes burning with a mix of anger and hesitance.
“you make me—damn it, you make me lose my focus. every damn time, you just keep going and doing stupid shit, and it pisses me off. but I can’t—”
he shakes his head, his fists clenching again as his cheeks flush.
you blink, your heart skipping a beat at the words, unsure if you’ve heard him right. “what are you talking about?”
bakugou’s frustration is palpable, but it’s different now, tangled with something softer. he exhales sharply, as if the very act of saying it is painful.
“I don’t want you to die,” he says, eyes still locked on yours. “I don’t want to keep pulling your ass out of dangerous situations,
but every time, it just...it matters more than it should. and I don’t know why. I just—” and his voice drops into a groan.
your mind races, but all you can do is stare at him, trying to process everything he’s just said. is he...admitting something?
is he actually confessing to you?
you try to respond, your voice shaky but determined. “bakugou, I—”
before you can finish, he huffs, stepping back slightly.
“forget it. this isn’t—this wasn’t supposed to happen,” he mutters, visibly trying to shake off the moment. “I didn’t mean to...whatever. you should get some rest.”
“no,” you snap, your heart pounding as you take a step forward.
you’re not about to let him hide from this, not this time. “no, you’re not just going to walk away from this. not like this.”
his scowl deepens, but there’s something in his eyes he can’t quite mask. he crosses his arms, clearly uncomfortable, but his voice is still tight with frustration.
“what the hell do you want me to say, huh? it’s not like I can just...do this shit the ‘right’ way.”
you move even closer, your gaze unwavering, and something inside you surges, something you can’t hold back anymore.
“I don’t need you to do it the ‘right’ way, bakugou,” you say, your voice steady but intense. “I just need you to stop pretending this doesn’t matter.”
his lips part, like he’s about to snap back at you, but he falters, his eyes flickering with uncertainty.
“I don’t know how to...how to deal with this, alright? I don’t—” he clenches his fists at his sides, frustration evident on his face.
“you’re not the only one who feels this way, you know,” you cut in, your words sharper now, tinged with your own frustration and longing.
“you’re not the only one who’s...frustrated.” you swallow, your heart pounding in your chest, the words tumbling out in a rush.
“I care about you, too, bakugou. and I’m not going to sit here pretending like what happened didn’t matter.”
he freezes.
his eyes widen, and you see something—his lighting up just a bit.
“you—” he stops himself, jaw tightening. but his voice is unsteady when he speaks again. “you care? what—”
you nod, your heart in your throat, but now you’re certain. “yeah. I do. a hell of a lot more than I want to admit.”
he shifts on his feet, confusion warring with reluctant relief. “so what the hell do you want from me, huh?” he grumbles, his frustration still biting, but it’s calmer.
you take another step forward, closing the distance between you. “I want you to stop running away from this, bakugou. stop pretending it’s something you can ignore.”
his lips press together in a hard line, but for a brief moment, you think he might dismiss it again.
but then, after a long, measured breath, he looks up at you, and this time, there’s a small smile on his face.
“fine,” he mutters, gaze dropping to the floor, chuckling as he runs a hand through his hair. “I guess...I want to be with you too, alright?”
your heart skips a beat at the bluntness of it.
it catches you off guard, but you can’t help the smile spreading across your lips. “so, what, you’re saying you’re into me now, huh?”
bakugou flushes, the scowl returning to his face quickly and the blood rushing to his face as he quickly turns away, clearly embarrassed.
“shut up! don’t make me say it again.”
you laugh softly. “guess I’ll take that as a yes, then.”
bakugou sighs heavily, but then his eyes flick to you for a second. you stare back at him, an eyebrow raised in confusion.
he grabs your wrist and pulls you into his chest. your eyes widen as you collide against him, and you snap your head up, ready to yell at him.
but you halt as he cocks his head to the side and replies with a smirk, “damn right.”
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— you've got a new message!
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kofi — navigation — masterlist
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do not copy, translate, or plagarize
1K notes · View notes
luckystay · 23 days ago
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bf!stray kids reaction to...
another member flirting with you.
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ᯓᡣ𐭩 BANG CHAN
Felix wasn’t doing anything overtly inappropriate—just being his usual charming self, casually complimenting your laugh and playfully nudging your arm.
But Chan noticed. His jaw clenched ever so slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching as he tried to keep his usual calm composure.
He didn’t say anything, didn’t make a scene, but his hand found yours, intertwining your fingers and giving a firm squeeze. “Can I talk to you for a second?” he asked, his tone light, though his eyes betrayed his emotions.
Upstairs, away from prying eyes, Chan pressed you against the door gently, his forehead resting against yours. “You know you’re mine, right?” he whispered, his voice low, carrying an edge of possessiveness that made your heart race.
ᯓᡣ𐭩 LEE KNOW
Hyunjin didn’t mean anything by it—it was just his natural charisma shining through as he teased you lightly, his hand brushing against yours as you both laughed.
Lee Know, however, wasn’t laughing. His eyes followed every move, his expression unreadable but sharp.
He didn’t say a word until Hyunjin wandered off. Then, Minho’s hand was on your lower back, guiding you toward the kitchen. “Let’s get something to drink,” he said simply, his tone neutral, but the way his fingers pressed into your back told you everything.
Once inside the kitchen, he pulled you close without warning. “You look too good today,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your shoulder. “Don’t let him get any ideas.”
ᯓᡣ𐭩 CHANGBIN
Seungmin’s humor was razor-sharp, and you couldn’t help but laugh as he lightly roasted you, his teasing drawing a smile you couldn’t hide.
Changbin heard it all, his gaze flickering between the two of you, but he kept his composure. For now.
It wasn’t until you were in the car heading home that he spoke. “You seemed to be having a good time with Seungmin,” he said, his tone casual but his grip on the steering wheel just a little too tight.
“Jealous?” you teased.
Changbin glanced at you, his lips curving into a smirk. “Maybe. I just don’t like sharing.”
ᯓᡣ𐭩 HYUNJIN
It wasn’t anything dramatic—just Chan being his warm, thoughtful self, adjusting your necklace for you and complimenting how nice it looked.
But Hyunjin of course didn’t think it was that innocent, his smile dimming slightly as he leaned back in his chair, watching the interaction with narrowed eyes.
later that night, as you lay tangled together in bed, that he finally spoke. “Do you think he touches everyone like that?” he asked softly, his tone teasing but laced with something more serious.
You turned to him, confused. “What are you talking about?”
Hyunjin only smirked, leaning in to kiss you deeply. “Nothing. Just making sure you know who you belong to.”
ᯓᡣ𐭩 HAN
Changbin wasn’t doing anything over the top, just resting a hand on your shoulder as he laughed at one of your jokes, his grin warm and genuine.
when Jisung caught it. He froze mid-bite of his food, his eyes narrowing as he watched the interaction.
When you sat back down beside him, Jisung leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “You’ve got everyone’s attention tonight, huh?”
You blinked, surprised. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged, popping another fry into his mouth. “Nothing,” he said nonchalantly, though his arm slid around your waist for the rest of the night, pulling you closer as if to make a point.
ᯓᡣ𐭩 FELIX
Jeongin was being sweet like always, his eyes lighting up as he complimented your outfit. “It really suits you,” he said sincerely, his smile boyish and charming.
Felix watched from the couch, his expression soft but thoughtful.
He didn’t interrupt, didn’t make a scene, but as you sat beside him later, away from everyone’s earshot, Felix leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re so popular today,” he said, his deep voice tinged with amusement.
You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”
Felix smiled, kissing your temple. “No. But maybe jeongin should be.”
ᯓᡣ𐭩 SEUNGMIN
Minho’s playful teasing was on full display, his sly grin making you laugh as he pretended to sulk about you “ignoring him.”
Seungmin’s eyes flicked up from his phone, watching the exchange with what appeared to be mild indifference—or so you thought.
He didn’t mention it until a week later, casually bringing it up over dinner. “You seemed pretty close with Minho the other day,” he said, his tone neutral as he scooped another bite of food.
You blinked, caught off guard. “Why are you bringing this up now?” you asked, genuinely confused.
Seungmin’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile as he finally looked up at you. “No reason,” he said lightly. Then, after a beat, he added, “I’d just hate for him to get any ideas.”
ᯓᡣ𐭩 I.N
Han’s energy was infectious, his antics leaving you doubled over in laughter as he reenacted a ridiculous story.
Jeongin sat nearby, pouting as his eyes flicked between you and Jisung. “Stop stealing her, hyung,” he finally mumbled, loud enough for everyone to hear.
The room erupted into laughter, but Jeongin didn’t join in. Instead, he shuffled closer to you, wrapping his arms around you with a huff. “I’m funnier anyway,” he grumbled, his head resting on your shoulder.
Everyone thought it was adorable—and a little funny—but Jeongin made sure to stay glued to you for the rest of the night.
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