#firm supporter of them just being like that

[pinkmoontaco]

Crossroads of Fate || Bangchan

Pairing: Idol Bangchan X Songwriter Y/n Genre: Romance/Angst Plot: BangChan reunites with his first love, now an award-winning songwriter, when Stray Kids is assigned one of her songs for their comeback. As they collaborate, old feelings resurface, but both struggle with the changes fame and time have brought to their lives. With conflicting schedules, unresolved past conflicts, and the pressures of being in the public eye, they must decide if their love story deserves a second chance. Author's Note: Please give it lots of love and support! Don’t forget to leave your thoughts and comments—they mean so much to me and help me improve. Your feedback and encouragement keep me motivated to keep writing. Thank you for being patient and sticking with me. Love you guys. And also feel free to make any request for any other members or other groups

The studio was quiet, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning and the soft glow of the soundboard. Bang Chan leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming against the desk as he studied the empty monitor. Deadlines loomed like storm clouds, but his mind was elsewhere. The announcement of their next comeback track had sent waves of excitement through the team, but for Chan, it carried an unexpected weight.

It wasn’t just any song.

The songwriter’s name had been highlighted in bold letters on the file his manager handed him a week ago. Y/N. A name he hadn’t spoken aloud in years, but one that lingered in his memory like a melody he couldn’t forget.

“Hyung?” Han’s voice broke through Chan’s thoughts as he peeked into the room. “We’re heading out for dinner. You coming?”

Chan shook his head. “Not tonight. I have to prep for tomorrow.”

Han shrugged but didn’t push further. “Don’t overwork yourself,” he said before disappearing down the hallway.

Chan sighed, glancing at the clock. Tomorrow’s meeting wasn’t just about the song—it was a reunion with the person who had written it. A person he hadn’t seen since she’d walked out of his life all those years ago.

The next day, the conference room buzzed with energy. The entire Stray Kids lineup sat around the long table, chatting excitedly about the new track. Chan, however, remained quieter than usual, fiddling with a pen in his hand.

The door opened, and all eyes turned toward the figure stepping inside.

Y/N.

She looked different, yet the same. Her posture was confident, her expression calm, but Chan caught the faint flicker of hesitation in her gaze. She scanned the room, pausing briefly when her eyes met his. It was just a second—long enough to stir the ache in his chest that he thought he’d buried.

“Thank you all for having me,” she said, her voice steady but tinged with nervous energy. “I’ve been a fan of your work, and I’m excited to collaborate on this project.”

The members greeted her warmly, breaking the ice with their usual lighthearted banter. Chan stayed silent, his mind racing with everything he wanted to say but couldn’t.

As the meeting progressed, Y/N explained the inspiration behind the song. Her words were professional, but to Chan, every lyric she described felt like a reflection of their shared past. He wondered if the others noticed or if he was the only one reading between the lines.

When the meeting ended, the members filed out, leaving Chan and Y/N alone in the room.

“You’ve come a long way,” she said, breaking the silence.

“So have you,” he replied, his voice softer than he intended.

For a moment, they stood there, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them.

“About the song—” Chan started, but she cut him off.

“Let’s keep it professional,” Y/N said quickly, her tone firm but not unkind. “It’s better that way.”

Chan nodded, though her words stung. “Right. Professional.”

As she walked out, leaving him alone with his thoughts, Chan couldn’t help but wonder if working together would be their chance to reconcile or if it would only deepen the distance between them.

Chan lingered in the now-empty conference room, staring at the notes Y/N had left on the whiteboard. The melody she'd described echoed in his mind. It was haunting yet beautiful—so distinctly her. His fingers itched to bring it to life, but a heavier thought weighed him down.

“Let’s keep it professional.”

Her words replayed in his mind like a broken record. After all these years, was that really all they could be?

The door creaked open, breaking his spiral of thoughts. Seungmin poked his head in, his usual deadpan expression in place.

“Hyung, we’re all in the practice room. Y/N noona said she’d stop by after she checks something with the staff,” he said casually.

“Noona, huh?” Chan muttered, half-smiling.

“Isn’t she older than you? Isn’t that what we’re supposed to call her?” Seungmin said with a shrug. “She’s cool, though. Don’t be weird about it.”

Chan chuckled despite himself. “I’m not being weird.”

“You’re always weird.”

“Get out of here before I make you practice alone,” Chan shot back, though his tone was playful. Seungmin left with a smirk, and Chan finally pushed himself out of his chair, grabbing his notebook and heading for the practice room.

Y/N stood just outside the room, scrolling through her phone as Chan approached. She looked up when she sensed his presence.

“Heading to practice?” she asked, keeping her tone light.

“Yeah. You’re coming in, right?” he replied, holding the door open for her.

She hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. “Just to observe. I don’t want to interrupt.”

Inside, the members were in their usual chaotic state. Minho was leaning against the mirrors, chatting with Jeongin, while Han and Hyunjin playfully fought over whose choreography idea was better. The moment Y/N stepped in, the room seemed to shift.

“Noona!” Han called out cheerfully, waving her over. “You’re here! Come judge our moves.”

Hyunjin grinned, brushing his hair back dramatically. “I already know noona’s going to pick me. I’m the main dancer after all.”

“Don’t embarrass yourselves,” Minho teased, smirking as he leaned against the mirror. “Noona just got here.”

Y/N blinked, slightly taken aback by their easy familiarity, but a small smile tugged at her lips. “You guys are a lively bunch.”

“Always,” Jeongin said with a bright smile. “Noona, don’t listen to Hyunjin. He’s all talk.”

Chan leaned against the doorway, watching the interaction unfold. It was strange seeing Y/N in this setting, surrounded by his members and fitting in so seamlessly. He’d always imagined how she might’ve interacted with them if things had been different.

“Alright, let’s get to it,” Chan finally said, clapping his hands to gather their attention. “We’ve got a lot to do.”

As practice began, Y/N took a seat in the corner, observing with quiet focus. She occasionally scribbled notes into her notebook, but her gaze often drifted toward Chan.

He was in his element, leading the group with his usual mix of authority and warmth. His movements were sharp, his voice steady as he gave instructions. It reminded her of the boy she’d known back then—the one who dreamed of standing on stages but always made time to support her dreams, too.

“Noona, what do you think?” Hyunjin called out after a particularly intricate run-through of the choreography.

Y/N glanced up, realizing all eyes were on her. She cleared her throat. “It’s good. Clean, but…”

“But?” Han pressed, grinning.

“I think you can hit the beats a bit sharper here,” she said, gesturing to a specific section. “It’ll match the vibe of the song better.”

The group murmured their agreement, nodding thoughtfully.

“See, I told you she’s good,” Jeongin whispered to Hyunjin, who rolled his eyes.

Chan approached her during a break, holding out a water bottle. “They’re taking to you well,” he said.

She accepted the bottle with a small smile. “They’re a good group. Talented, too. You’ve done well with them.”

“They’re the ones who make it easy,” he replied, his gaze lingering on her. “You… You’ve done well for yourself, too. Your name’s everywhere these days.”

She laughed softly, a sound that tugged at his heart. “It’s different from what I thought I’d be doing, but I’ve made my peace with it.”

“Is that what you call it? Peace?”

Y/N’s smile faltered. She glanced away, pretending to focus on the members as they joked with one another. “It’s what I’ve chosen.”

Before Chan could respond, Han called out, “Hyung! Stop hogging noona and get back here. We need your opinion.”

Chan sighed but gave her a small nod. “We’re not done talking,” he said quietly before walking away.

Y/N watched him go, her chest tightening. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to have that conversation—if she could face the memories she’d locked away for so long.

But one thing was clear: being around Bang Chan again was stirring feelings she thought she’d buried for good.

The room was alive with laughter as the members continued to practice, but Bang Chan’s focus was elsewhere. He watched Y/N from across the room, noting the way her gaze lingered on the group with a mix of pride and nostalgia. It was a look he recognized—one she’d often worn back when their lives were simpler, before the weight of their choices had pulled them apart.

Her voice was still ringing in his ears: “It’s what I’ve chosen.”

The words triggered something in him, unlocking a door he hadn’t dared open in years.

Flashback: The Trainee Days

“Chan, you’re gonna blow the speakers if you keep cranking it up like that!” Y/N’s voice broke through the pounding bass, laughter lacing her words. She leaned against the doorway of the small practice room, her arms crossed, her expression caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement.

“Sorry, noona,” Chan said sheepishly, reaching for the volume knob. “I was just trying to get the bass to match the melody.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, stepping inside with the casual ease of someone who practically lived there. Her hoodie was too big, her hair tied in a messy bun, but to Chan, she looked perfect.

“You’re such a perfectionist,” she teased, plopping down beside him on the floor. “Not everything has to be perfect, you know. Sometimes it’s the flaws that make it special.”

“Easy for you to say,” he replied, grinning. “Your vocals are always flawless. Meanwhile, I’m over here trying to make sure my beats don’t sound like garbage.”

She laughed, nudging him playfully. “You’re too hard on yourself, Chan. You’re better than you think.”

Her words always had a way of grounding him, of making him believe in himself even when self-doubt threatened to take over. It was one of the many reasons he’d fallen for her.

They sat in silence for a moment, the only sound coming from the faint hum of the equipment. Then, she broke it.

“Do you ever think about what it’ll be like? When we debut?”

“All the time,” Chan admitted. “But it’s scary, too. What if it doesn’t work out? What if we don’t make it?”

“You will,” she said firmly. “I know you will. You’re too talented, too driven not to.”

He turned to look at her, the sincerity in her eyes almost overwhelming. “What about you?” he asked quietly.

She hesitated, her gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t know,” she said after a long pause. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m cut out for this. The competition, the pressure… it’s a lot.”

“You’re cut out for it,” he said, his voice steady. “You’ve got everything it takes, noona. Don’t let anyone make you doubt that.”

The corner of her mouth lifted in a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Chan.”

They didn’t need to say more. The silence that followed was comfortable, the kind that only came with understanding and trust.

But looking back, Chan would always remember that moment—the moment he realized how much she meant to him, and how terrified he was of losing her.

Back to the Present

“Hyung, you good?” Felix’s voice jolted Chan back to the present.

“Huh?” He blinked, realizing he’d been staring into space.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Felix said with a concerned smile. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Chan said quickly, shaking his head as if to clear it. “Just… thinking.”

“About noona?” Han teased, leaning on Felix’s shoulder with a mischievous grin. “You’ve been stealing glances at her all day.”

Chan shot him a warning look, but it was too late. The rest of the members had caught on, and the teasing began in earnest.

“Hyung’s got history with noona, doesn’t he?” Hyunjin smirked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Tell us, tell us!” Jeongin chimed in, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Chan groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Can we focus on practice, please?”

The members laughed but let it go, and Chan stole another glance at Y/N. She was focused on her notebook, oblivious to the chaos around her.

He wondered if she remembered that night in the practice room as vividly as he did. Or if, for her, it was just another forgotten chapter in a story she’d already moved on from.

The members were busy working on a choreography run-through, giving Bang Chan a moment to slip out of the practice room unnoticed. His chest felt tight, his emotions tangled as his thoughts drifted further into the past. He leaned against the hallway wall, staring at the ceiling as memories flooded his mind.

Flashback: The Night She Left

It was late—past midnight, though neither of them seemed to care. The JYP building was silent except for the faint creak of the floors and the hum of fluorescent lights. Chan had texted Y/N to meet him in the practice room, and now he stood there, pacing, waiting for her to arrive.

When the door finally opened, she stepped in, her usual bright expression subdued. The oversized hoodie she wore dwarfed her frame, and her hair was tucked under a cap as if she were trying to disappear.

“Hey,” she said softly, closing the door behind her.

“Hey,” Chan replied, though his voice was tinged with unease. He stopped pacing, turning to face her. “What’s going on? You sounded… weird in your text.”

Y/N hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her hoodie. “I need to talk to you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Chan’s stomach churned. He had known her long enough to recognize the look in her eyes—the way her walls were slowly going up, shutting him out.

“Okay,” he said cautiously. “Talk to me.”

She took a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling as if bracing herself for impact. “I’m leaving, Chan.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. “Leaving? What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m quitting the trainee program,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “I’m not debuting. I can’t do this anymore.”

Chan stared at her, disbelief written all over his face. “What are you talking about? You’re one of the best trainees here! Everyone knows that. Why would you—”

“It doesn’t matter how good I am,” she interrupted, her tone sharp but pained. “This life… it’s not for me, Chan. The endless hours, the pressure, the constant comparisons… I can’t keep up. I thought I could, but I was wrong.”

“But you’ve worked so hard,” he argued, his voice rising in desperation. “You’ve been here longer than almost anyone! You’ve sacrificed so much—why give up now?”

Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. “Because I’m tired, Chan. Tired of feeling like I’m never enough. Tired of pretending I’m okay when I’m not.”

Chan took a step closer, his heart racing. “You are enough, Y/N. You’ve always been enough. If you’re struggling, we can figure it out together. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Her gaze softened at his words, but she shook her head. “You don’t get it. You’re different, Chan. You thrive here. This is where you’re meant to be. But me? I feel like I’m suffocating.”

He clenched his fists, his frustration bubbling over. “So that’s it? You’re just… walking away? From everything? From me?”

Her breath hitched, and for the first time, her composure cracked. “Don’t make this harder than it already is,” she pleaded. “This isn’t about you. It’s about me. I need to find a life where I can breathe again.”

Chan felt a lump rise in his throat, but he swallowed it down. “When?” he asked quietly.

“Tomorrow,” she admitted, her voice barely audible.

“Tomorrow?” His voice broke. “You weren’t even going to tell me until now?”

“I didn’t know how,” she said, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I knew you’d try to stop me, and I couldn’t face that. I couldn’t face you.”

Chan closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. When he opened them again, they were filled with pain. “Do you know how much I care about you?” he asked, his voice raw. “Do you even realize what you’re walking away from?”

Her lip quivered, but she stood her ground. “I care about you too, Chan. More than you know. But that’s why I have to leave. If I stay, I’ll only drag you down with me.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“Goodbye, Chan,” she said finally, her voice breaking.

And just like that, she walked out of the room, leaving him standing there, his heart shattered into pieces.

Back to the Present

Chan let out a shaky breath, rubbing his hands over his face. Even after all these years, the memory of that night still stung like an open wound. He had tried to move on, to bury the pain and focus on his dreams. But seeing Y/N again had brought everything rushing back.

He pushed off the wall, forcing himself to return to the practice room. When he walked in, the members were laughing about something Y/N had said. She looked up as he entered, her smile fading slightly when their eyes met.

Chan forced a small smile, but inside, he felt like he was standing at a crossroads again.

This time, he wasn’t sure if he’d survive losing her twice.

Y/N sat in the corner of the practice room, her notebook balanced on her lap. The sounds of Stray Kids rehearsing filled the space around her—an intricate mix of synchronized movements and playful banter that reminded her why she had loved this world once.

Her pen hovered above the page, but her thoughts were far from the notes she was supposed to be taking. Every time her gaze flickered to Bang Chan, her chest tightened with a mix of emotions she couldn’t name.

How does he do it? she wondered. How does he still look so steady, so sure of himself, after all these years?

She didn’t regret leaving—not exactly. But being here, in the same room as him, made her question everything she’d told herself since that night.

Flashback: After She Left

The day she walked away from the trainee program, Y/N felt like a ghost. She had packed her things in silence, avoiding the eyes of the friends she’d made and the staff who had believed in her. She couldn’t bear their questions, their pity, or the disappointment that would surely follow.

When she stepped outside the JYP building for what she knew would be the last time, the air felt colder, sharper. Her phone buzzed in her pocket—Chan’s name lighting up the screen.

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

Instead, she turned off her phone and slipped it into her bag, hoping the silence would numb the ache in her chest.

For weeks, she avoided looking at anything related to JYP, idol groups, or the industry altogether. She threw herself into other pursuits, trying to fill the void that music had left behind. But no matter how hard she tried, the memories lingered.

She missed the late-night practices, the camaraderie, the way her heart would race when she stepped into a recording booth. And more than anything, she missed him.

I did the right thing, she told herself every time the doubts crept in. I wasn’t strong enough for that life.

But even as the years passed and her career as a songwriter began to flourish, the guilt never fully disappeared.

Back to the Present

“Y/N noona, what do you think?” Han’s cheerful voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

She blinked, realizing that the group had finished their run-through and were now looking at her expectantly.

“It’s good,” she said quickly, sitting up straighter. “Really good. But I think you could emphasize the transitions more—make them feel smoother so they match the flow of the song.”

The members nodded thoughtfully, murmuring to each other about adjustments they could make.

“Good catch, noona,” Hyunjin said with a grin. “You’ve got a sharp eye.”

Y/N smiled faintly, her heart warming at their easy acceptance of her. It felt strange, being called “noona” by a group of idols who had risen to international stardom. She admired their talent, their passion, and the bond they clearly shared.

But her gaze kept drifting back to Chan.

He was quieter than she remembered, his playful energy tempered by a calm maturity that suited him. Yet beneath his composure, she could sense the tension—like he was holding back words he didn’t know how to say.

During a break, she slipped out of the practice room, needing a moment to herself. The hallway was empty, and she leaned against the wall, closing her eyes as she took a deep breath.

Her mind wandered back to their conversation earlier:

“You’ve come a long way.”

“So have you.”

The way he’d looked at her—like he was trying to piece together who she was now—made her chest ache. She had wanted to tell him everything: how much she had missed him, how often she’d thought about him, and how hard it had been to walk away.

But she couldn’t. Not now.

The sound of footsteps brought her back to the present. She opened her eyes to find Chan standing a few feet away, his expression unreadable.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice soft.

“I’m fine,” she replied quickly, though the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her.

He hesitated, then took a step closer. “You don’t have to do that, you know.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend everything’s fine when it’s not,” he said, his gaze locking onto hers. “I know you, Y/N. Better than you think.”

Her breath caught, and for a moment, all the walls she’d built around herself felt like they might crumble.

“Chan…” she started, her voice faltering.

He waited, his patience unwavering. But before she could say more, the sound of someone calling his name echoed down the hallway.

“Hyung, we need you!”

Chan sighed, glancing over his shoulder. “I’ll be right there!” he called back.

When he turned back to her, his expression softened. “This isn’t over,” he said quietly.

And then he was gone, leaving Y/N alone with the weight of everything she couldn’t bring herself to say.

Y/N stood frozen in the hallway long after Chan had gone. His words echoed in her mind: “This isn’t over.”

She wanted to believe him. Part of her even wanted to let herself hope that they could go back to the way things were before she’d walked away. But the years had changed them both, and she wasn’t sure if they were still the same people who had sat in that small practice room late at night, sharing their dreams and fears.

She sighed, shaking her head as if to clear it. Focus on work, Y/N. That’s why you’re here.

Squaring her shoulders, she headed back to the practice room. When she entered, the members were scattered across the floor, catching their breath after another run-through.

“Noona, you’re back!” Jeongin called out, grinning.

“Of course,” she replied, forcing a smile. “You didn’t think I’d leave without finishing, did you?”

“Never,” Han teased. “But you did miss Chan hyung trying to demonstrate a move and almost falling flat on his face.”

The room erupted in laughter, and Y/N’s gaze instinctively found Chan. He was sitting on the floor, a water bottle in hand, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“Don’t listen to them,” he said, looking at her with a lopsided smile. “I was fine.”

Y/N arched a brow, her playful side slipping through despite herself. “You sure? Should I call a medic?”

The members laughed even harder, and Chan shook his head, a small chuckle escaping him. “No need, noona. I’ll survive.”

For a moment, the tension between them seemed to ease, replaced by a warmth that felt almost familiar.

Practice wrapped up just as the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Y/N gathered her things, preparing to leave, when a voice stopped her.

“Y/N.”

She turned to see Chan standing by the doorway, his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie. The others had already left, leaving them alone in the room.

“Walk with me?” he asked, his tone careful, almost hesitant.

Y/N hesitated, her instinct to say no warring with the part of her that longed to talk to him. Finally, she nodded. “Okay.”

They walked in silence at first, the sound of their footsteps echoing softly in the empty hallway. The building was quiet now, a stark contrast to the lively energy of earlier.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Chan began, breaking the silence.

Y/N glanced at him, her brow furrowing. “What I said?”

“About how you’ve changed,” he clarified. “How this isn’t your world anymore.”

She swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to the floor. “It’s true. I’ve been out of it for so long… I don’t think I’d even know how to fit back in.”

“You don’t have to fit back in,” he said gently. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t belong here.”

Y/N stopped walking, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. “Chan, I left because I couldn’t handle it. I wasn’t strong enough. You don’t understand—”

“I do understand,” he interrupted, his voice firm but not unkind. “Do you think I haven’t felt that way? That I haven’t questioned if I’m good enough or strong enough to keep going?”

She looked at him, startled by the raw vulnerability in his expression.

“We all have those moments,” he continued. “But you didn’t leave because you were weak, Y/N. You left because you were brave enough to choose what you needed, even if it hurt.”

His words hit her harder than she expected, and she had to blink back the tears threatening to spill over.

“I missed you,” she admitted softly, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Chan’s eyes softened, and he took a step closer. “I missed you too.”

The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken emotions. Y/N wanted to say so much—to explain, to apologize, to tell him how often she’d thought about him. But the words wouldn’t come.

“Do you regret it?” Chan asked suddenly.

She looked at him, her breath catching. “Regret what?”

“Leaving,” he said quietly.

She hesitated, the answer swirling in her mind. “Sometimes,” she admitted. “But if I hadn’t left, I wouldn’t be who I am now. And I wouldn’t be standing here, talking to you.”

Chan nodded slowly, his gaze searching hers. “Maybe it was meant to happen this way,” he said. “Maybe we needed time to grow on our own before we could find each other again.”

Y/N’s heart ached at his words, but this time, it wasn’t a painful ache—it was something softer, something that felt like hope.

“Maybe,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

They stood there for a moment longer, the space between them charged with possibilities. And for the first time in years, Y/N allowed herself to believe that second chances might be worth taking.

The walk back to the dorms was quieter, yet the silence felt different now—less like avoidance and more like understanding. Bang Chan walked beside Y/N, their steps falling into an unspoken rhythm. Neither of them said much, but the air between them felt heavier with emotions they weren’t ready to voice.

As they reached the building’s entrance, Chan hesitated, his hand hovering near the door handle. “Do you want to come in? The others are still up, probably goofing around.”

Y/N gave a soft laugh. “I don’t know if I have the energy to deal with their endless teasing tonight.”

“They’ve already started calling you ‘noona’ like it’s a badge of honor,” Chan said, smiling. “You’ll never escape it now.”

Her lips curved into a small smile. “It’s kind of nice, though,” she admitted. “They remind me of... well, of us back then.”

Chan’s smile faltered slightly, the mention of the past tugging at something deep within him. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “They’ve got that same fire we used to have. But don’t sell yourself short—you still have it too.”

Y/N shook her head, looking away. “I don’t know about that.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but the sound of laughter from inside the dorm interrupted him. The door swung open, revealing Han and Seungmin, who froze when they saw them standing there.

“Hyung! Noona!” Han exclaimed, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “What’s this? A secret meeting?”

“Late-night date, maybe?” Seungmin chimed in, his deadpan delivery making it even funnier.

“Knock it off,” Chan said, rolling his eyes but unable to hide the faint blush creeping up his neck.

Y/N laughed, the warmth in her chest pushing away the heaviness that had been sitting there all day. “If this is how you treat all your guests, I’m surprised anyone visits.”

“Only the special ones, noona,” Han quipped, winking at her.

“Go inside,” Chan ordered, shooing them back into the dorm.

As they retreated, still chuckling, Chan turned back to Y/N. “You sure you don’t want to come in? They’d love having you around.”

Y/N hesitated. A part of her wanted to join them, to let herself be swept up in their youthful energy and forget about everything else. But another part of her—the part that still carried the weight of the past—wasn’t sure if she was ready.

“Not tonight,” she said finally, her tone soft. “But... maybe another time.”

Chan nodded, his expression understanding. “Take your time,” he said. “We’ll be here.”

Later That Night

Y/N sat in her small apartment, staring at the blank notebook in front of her. The melody she’d been working on earlier was still stuck in her head, but the words wouldn’t come.

Her mind kept drifting back to Chan—his voice, his smile, the way he’d looked at her like he was still trying to understand why she’d left.

She sighed, setting the notebook aside. The memories were too loud tonight, refusing to be ignored.

Flashback: The First Goodbye

The airport was crowded, the hum of activity a stark contrast to the stillness Y/N felt inside. Her suitcase sat at her feet, and her plane ticket was clutched tightly in her hand.

She’d made the decision to leave Korea and start fresh abroad, hoping that distance would help her figure out who she was without the weight of the trainee life she’d abandoned.

Chan had shown up unannounced, his face flushed from running through the terminal.

“You weren’t going to tell me you were leaving the country?” he’d asked, his voice trembling with disbelief.

“I thought it would be easier this way,” she’d said, unable to meet his eyes.

“Easier for who?” he’d demanded, his hurt bleeding into anger. “For you? Because it sure as hell isn’t easier for me!”

Y/N had felt the tears welling up, but she’d forced herself to stay calm. “Chan, I can’t stay here. Every corner of this city feels like a reminder of everything I failed at.”

“You didn’t fail,” he’d said, his voice softening. “You just… chose a different path.”

She’d shaken her head, unwilling to let him comfort her. “I need this, Chan. I need to figure out who I am without this life. Without…”

She couldn’t finish the sentence, but he understood.

“Without me,” he’d said quietly, the pain in his voice cutting through her like a knife.

She’d wanted to tell him he was wrong, that he was the only part of her life she’d ever been sure of. But she didn’t. Instead, she’d stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him in a hug that felt more like a goodbye than she’d intended.

“I’m sorry,” she’d whispered.

When she’d pulled back, his eyes were red, but he didn’t say anything else. He’d just watched as she picked up her suitcase and walked away.

Back to the Present

Y/N wiped at her eyes, surprised to find tears there. The memory of that day still haunted her, and being around Chan again had only brought it all back.

But as painful as it was, it also made her realize something: she wasn’t as far away from that world as she thought.

And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t too late to find her place in it again.

The next day, Y/N found herself sitting in the studio, the same studio where Chan had told her Stray Kids often worked on their music. She had arrived early, telling herself it was to focus on finishing the lyrics for their comeback song.

But as she stared at the screen of her laptop, the blinking cursor mocking her inability to write, she realized the real reason she was here: she wanted to see him again.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, the melody Chan had worked on playing softly in the background. She knew the song needed something—something raw and honest—but the words still wouldn’t come.

“You’re early.”

The familiar voice startled her, and she turned to see Chan leaning in the doorway, a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Could say the same about you,” she replied, offering a small smile.

He stepped inside, setting the cup on the table next to her. “This is for you. Thought you might need it.”

“Thanks,” she said, wrapping her hands around the warm cup.

He pulled out a chair and sat across from her, his gaze flickering to the screen. “Stuck?”

“Something like that,” she admitted, sighing. “I have the melody in my head, but the lyrics… they just don’t feel right.”

Chan nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Sometimes the words come when you stop trying so hard. What are you writing about?”

Y/N hesitated, her fingers brushing against the keyboard. “The feeling of losing something you can’t get back,” she said softly.

He didn’t respond right away, but when she looked up, his eyes were locked on hers. “Is that how you feel?”

The question hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning.

“Sometimes,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Chan leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped in front of him. “You know, I used to think that too. That once something was gone, it was gone for good.”

“And now?”

“Now I think… maybe some things can come back,” he said, his gaze never wavering. “If both people are willing to try.”

Y/N’s breath caught, the vulnerability in his voice making her heart ache. “Chan, I—”

Before she could finish, the door opened, and Han poked his head inside.

“Hyung! Noona!” he said, his grin wide. “Are we interrupting something?”

Y/N’s face flushed, and she quickly shook her head. “No, just working.”

“Sure you are,” Han teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Anyway, we’re starting rehearsal in ten minutes. Don’t be late!”

With that, he disappeared, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Chan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Han has the worst timing.”

Y/N chuckled softly, the tension easing slightly. “He’s just being Han.”

As Chan stood, he glanced at her again. “Think about what I said,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. When you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

Y/N sat on her bed that night, her notebook open in her lap. Chan’s words played over and over in her mind, his quiet determination resonating with something deep inside her.

She picked up her pen, letting the melody guide her, and began to write. The words flowed more easily now, like they’d been waiting for her to let go of her fear.

Y/N arrived at the studio early again, her notebook clutched tightly in her hands. She found Chan already there, headphones on as he worked on the track.

When he noticed her, he smiled and pulled the headphones off. “Morning.”

“Morning,” she replied, her heart pounding in her chest.

“I have something to show you,” she said, holding out the notebook.

Chan took it, his brows furrowing as he scanned the lyrics. As he read, his expression softened, and when he looked up at her, there was a glimmer of something she couldn’t quite name in his eyes.

“This…” he began, his voice thick with emotion. “This is perfect.”

Y/N felt a weight lift off her chest, her lips curving into a tentative smile. “You think so?”

“I know so,” he said firmly. “It’s honest, Y/N. It’s real. Just like you.”

The warmth in his voice sent a shiver down her spine, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

As they worked together on the song, their laughter filled the room, blending seamlessly with the music. And in that moment, Y/N realized something: maybe second chances weren’t about starting over. Maybe they were about picking up where you left off and finding the courage to keep going.

As the days passed, Y/N and Chan found themselves spending more time together, not just in the studio but outside of it too. Their shared moments stretched from late-night brainstorming sessions to quiet coffee breaks, each encounter chipping away at the wall that had built up between them over the years.

The song they were working on was slowly coming together, its lyrics raw and emotional. Every note and word seemed to carry a piece of their unspoken feelings, weaving a story of loss and rediscovery.

One Late Night at the Studio

The clock read 2:14 AM, but neither of them seemed to notice. Chan sat at the keyboard, his fingers lightly pressing the keys, playing the melody on loop as Y/N leaned over a notepad, scribbling and crossing out lines.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Chan said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Y/N glanced up, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“You rewrite every line five times before you even give it a chance to breathe,” he said, turning to face her. “Sometimes, the first thought is the most honest.”

She leaned back in her chair, tapping her pen against the notepad. “I guess I’m scared it won’t be good enough.”

“For who?”

Y/N hesitated. “For you. For the members. For everyone who listens to it.”

Chan’s expression softened, and he reached out, his hand resting lightly on hers. “Y/N, it’s already good enough. You’re good enough.”

The sincerity in his voice made her chest tighten, and she looked down at their hands, her heart pounding. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

He smiled faintly. “Not always. But when it comes to you, I try.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, the room felt smaller, the air between them charged. She wanted to say something—anything—but the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, she gave his hand a gentle squeeze before pulling away. “We should get back to work,” she said softly, breaking the moment.

Chan nodded, but the way he looked at her told her he’d felt it too.

The Next Day

After practice, Chan approached her with a sly smile. “Do you have plans tonight?”

“Not really. Why?”

“Come with me,” he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have something to show you.”

Curious, Y/N agreed, and a few hours later, they found themselves walking along a quiet path near the Han River. The city lights reflected on the water, casting a soft glow over everything.

“This used to be my escape,” Chan said, gesturing to the river. “Whenever things got too overwhelming, I’d come here to clear my head.”

Y/N smiled, her arms wrapped around herself against the cool breeze. “It’s beautiful.”

They sat on a bench overlooking the water, the sounds of the city distant and muted. For a while, neither of them spoke, content to simply be in each other’s presence.

“Do you ever think about the past?” Y/N asked suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“All the time,” Chan admitted, his gaze fixed on the water. “Especially the parts with you.”

Her heart ached at his honesty. “I never stopped thinking about you, Chan. Even when I was halfway across the world, you were always in the back of my mind.”

He turned to her, his eyes searching hers. “Then why did you stay away?”

“I was scared,” she said, her voice trembling. “Scared that coming back would make everything worse. Scared that I wouldn’t know how to face you.”

“You didn’t have to face it alone,” he said gently. “You still don’t.”

Y/N looked at him, her resolve crumbling under the weight of his words. “Chan, I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t,” he said, his hand finding hers once more. “Not if we’re both willing to fight for this.”

Tears filled her eyes, but she nodded, a small smile breaking through. “Okay.”

“Okay?” he echoed, a hopeful smile spreading across his face.

“Okay,” she repeated, her voice stronger this time.

They sat there for hours, talking about everything and nothing, their laughter mixing with the sound of the river. And for the first time in years, Y/N felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be—beside him.

The following days were filled with rehearsals, studio sessions, and fan events, but the unspoken connection between Y/N and Chan remained a quiet, constant presence. Their bond deepened with every passing moment, but they kept it to themselves, not ready to make their feelings public—at least, not yet.

The members of Stray Kids, however, weren’t blind. They could see the way Chan’s eyes softened whenever Y/N entered the room, the way she would glance at him from across the studio with that quiet warmth. It didn’t take long for them to start noticing the subtle changes.

A Few Days Later, During Rehearsal

The practice room was buzzing with energy as the Stray Kids members ran through choreography for their upcoming comeback. Y/N was there as usual, helping with the songwriting and offering her input where needed. She sat off to the side, her legs crossed, her notebook in her lap.

But it didn’t take long before Chan noticed her gaze shifting toward him every few seconds. He caught her eyes once, offering a smile. It was simple but full of understanding, and for a split second, it felt like the world faded away around them.

"Chan, focus!" Hyunjin’s voice broke through the moment, pulling him back to the present.

"Yeah, no zoning out now," Felix added, grinning mischievously.

Chan cleared his throat, his face turning slightly pink as he forced himself to focus on the choreography. But his thoughts kept drifting back to Y/N, and despite his best efforts to keep it cool, the members were starting to catch on.

After a long rehearsal, the members of Stray Kids were gathered in the living room of their dorm, winding down from the intense practice. Y/N had joined them, laughing along with their teasing and sharing stories about her experiences with music.

Chan, as usual, found himself seated beside her. Their shoulders brushed now and then, and each time it sent a small shock through him, but he didn’t pull away. It felt comfortable, natural even.

“Alright, we’re getting to the good part!” Changbin said, holding up his phone. “Let’s see how long it takes for you two to admit it already.”

Y/N and Chan both blinked, surprised by the sudden change in topic. “What?” Y/N asked, her voice tinged with confusion.

“You know,” Hyunjin smirked, “the whole ‘will-they-won’t-they�� thing. We can tell there’s something going on between you two. The vibe is very obvious.”

Chan’s face flushed bright red. “Hyunjin—no.”

“No, no, don’t hide it!” Han laughed, pointing between Y/N and Chan. “It’s so clear! You two are practically glued to each other. Everyone’s been noticing it, even the fans.”

Y/N’s heart raced. “There’s nothing going on,” she tried to say, but the words felt weak even to her own ears.

“Sure, noona,” Felix teased, grinning. “You’re just here for the music, right?”

The rest of the members burst into laughter, clearly enjoying the teasing. Y/N looked at Chan, her heart pounding in her chest. He met her gaze, a sheepish smile on his lips.

“I—uh—guess we’re not as subtle as we thought,” Chan muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Look, we’re not saying anything’s happening right now,” Seungmin chimed in, his tone playful. “But it’s obvious something’s there. We’re not blind.”

Y/N could feel her face burning, and she shifted uncomfortably. “We’re just… working together on the song,” she said quickly, hoping the explanation would stick.

But instead of pushing further, the members nodded, their teasing settling down. “If you two are happy, we’re happy,” Changbin added with a grin. “Just don’t leave us in the dark, okay?”

Y/N and Chan exchanged a glance. There was no denying that something was shifting between them, but neither of them was ready to put a label on it yet. It wasn’t about making an announcement; it was about feeling the moment together, quietly, without the pressure of others’ expectations.

Later That Evening

After the playful teasing from the members, Y/N and Chan found themselves alone in the kitchen, making tea. It was quiet now, just the two of them and the soft hum of the kitchen lights.

“You okay?” Chan asked, glancing at her as he poured water into the kettle.

“Yeah, just… a little embarrassed,” she admitted with a laugh. “I wasn’t expecting them to be so direct about it.”

Chan chuckled. “They’re always like that. But they mean well.”

“I know,” she said, stirring her tea absentmindedly. “It’s just… I’m not used to this. Not used to being the center of attention like that.”

Chan leaned against the counter, his eyes softening as he watched her. “I get it. It’s a lot, but we don’t have to rush anything. We can take our time.”

“Yeah,” Y/N agreed, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. “We’re okay.”

They stood in the silence for a few moments before Chan spoke again, his voice quieter now. “I mean it, though. Whenever you’re ready, we’ll figure it out.”

Y/N met his eyes, her heart swelling at his words. “I’m glad we’re doing this. Together.”

Chan smiled, his gaze full of sincerity. “Me too.”

The days passed in a blur, and every moment Y/N spent with Chan only made her more aware of how deeply she had fallen for him. It wasn’t just the way he looked at her with such kindness, nor was it the gentle way he treated her as if she were the most precious thing in the room. It was everything—the way he understood her without words, the way he could make her laugh even on her worst days, and the way their silences were never uncomfortable.

But despite the deep connection they shared, there was still a part of her that hesitated. The fear of crossing a line. The fear of disrupting the delicate balance they had found.

It was late one evening after practice, and Stray Kids had finished a grueling rehearsal. The members were scattered throughout the dorm, unwinding and preparing for the next day’s schedule. Y/N had stayed behind to finish a few last notes on the song they were collaborating on, the melody and lyrics now blending seamlessly into a perfect mix of their shared creativity.

Chan, however, had lingered. He stood outside the door of the practice room for a moment, watching her from the hallway. His heart pounded in his chest. He had been battling with his feelings for weeks now, unsure if Y/N felt the same way. Every time they shared a quiet moment, it felt like there was something more beneath the surface, but the uncertainty lingered.

He couldn’t stand it anymore.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open, stepping inside.

Y/N didn’t look up at first, her focus on the notebook in front of her, but the sound of the door closing gently made her glance up.

“Chan?”

He walked toward her, his gaze soft, yet determined. “Y/N,” he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “There’s something I need to say to you.”

Her heart skipped a beat, and she set the pen down, suddenly feeling nervous. “What’s wrong?”

Chan shook his head, his smile faint but real. “Nothing’s wrong. But I’ve been holding something in for too long, and I can’t keep doing that.”

Y/N’s chest tightened as he took a step closer, his presence so comforting yet electrifying. “What is it?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I—” Chan paused, his throat tight with nerves. He had never been one to shy away from his feelings, but this felt different. He knew the stakes were higher now. He could feel the tension between them, the unspoken understanding that they both felt something, but hadn’t yet acknowledged it.

“I think I’ve loved you for a long time,” Chan admitted, his eyes locked onto hers, his words raw and vulnerable.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. The words, so simple yet so powerful, sent her heart into overdrive. “Chan… I—”

But before she could say anything else, he reached out, cupping her face gently with both hands. His thumb brushed across her cheek, and in that moment, everything else in the world seemed to fade away. There was only the two of them, standing in the quiet of the room, the air thick with emotions they had both been too afraid to voice until now.

“I can’t hold back anymore, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice hushed but full of intent. “I want you. And I want to be with you, if you feel the same way.”

Her heart soared as she nodded, a soft smile curling at the corners of her lips. “I feel the same, Chan. I’ve always felt the same.”

Before she could say anything more, Chan leaned in slowly, his eyes flickering between hers and her lips. He paused, giving her a chance to pull away if she wanted to, but the moment stretched on, and she didn’t move. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, closing the distance between them.

Their lips met in a gentle, tentative kiss. It was soft at first, as if both of them were testing the waters, but the moment their lips touched, a spark ignited between them. The kiss deepened, and Y/N’s hands found their way to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under her fingertips. Chan’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss grew more urgent, more passionate.

Time seemed to stand still, the only sound the soft rush of their breaths and the quiet hum of the room around them. It was as though the entire world had paused, and for once, there was nothing but the two of them in that moment, finally free to be what they had both secretly wanted for so long.

When they finally broke apart, breathless and wide-eyed, Chan rested his forehead against hers, his hands still gently cradling her face.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’ve wanted that for so long.”

“I know,” she whispered back, her hands tracing the lines of his shirt, still feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips.

They stood there for a few moments, wrapped in the aftermath of the kiss, letting the reality of it settle. It was like the weight of the years they had spent apart had lifted, and in its place was the promise of something new, something they could both build together.

Finally, Chan pulled back slightly, his eyes sparkling with a mix of joy and disbelief. “I think we should make this official,” he said, his voice full of warmth. “I’m not letting you go this time, Y/N.”

She smiled up at him, her heart full. “I’m not going anywhere.”

After that night, everything changed between Y/N and Chan. What had once been subtle glances and fleeting touches now became an undeniable force that neither of them could ignore. It was as if the world had slowed down, leaving just the two of them caught in the newfound intensity of their connection.

The evening had settled in with a quiet calm, and Stray Kids had finished another long day of practice. Y/N had stayed behind for a while, working through some lyrics, but as the night deepened, she found herself looking out of the window, her thoughts wandering to the moment she and Chan had shared.

Without thinking, she made her way to the roof, craving some fresh air and solitude.

As she stepped onto the rooftop, the cool breeze brushed against her skin, and she took a deep breath, feeling the tension of the day slip away.

But her solitude didn’t last long. Moments later, the sound of footsteps approached, and Chan stepped into view, a smile playing on his lips.

“You were looking for me?” he asked, his voice soft yet teasing.

Y/N turned to him, her heart fluttering. “I just wanted some space to think.”

Chan walked toward her, the distance between them closing quickly. “I understand. Mind if I join you?”

Y/N smiled and stepped aside, allowing him to stand next to her. They stood in silence for a few moments, looking at the stars above them, the city lights twinkling below.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” Chan remarked, his voice almost a whisper as he turned to face her.

She nodded, her gaze meeting his. “Just thinking about everything that’s changed.”

“You don’t have to be so guarded with me, you know,” he said softly, stepping closer to her. “You can share anything.”

Without saying another word, he reached out, gently cupping her face, and before she could even react, he kissed her—slowly, softly, as if savoring the moment. The kiss was tender, almost like a question, a reassurance that they were both on the same page.

Y/N melted into him, her hands instinctively going to his chest, feeling the warmth of his body as she kissed him back, deepening the kiss. Their lips moved together in a rhythm they had somehow already known, their hearts racing in unison.

When they finally pulled away, Y/N was breathless, her heart pounding in her chest.

“That… that was...” she trailed off, unable to find the words.

“Perfect,” Chan finished for her, his smile wide and sincere. “I don’t want to let you go, Y/N.”

“I don’t want you to,” she whispered, her fingers lightly tracing the outline of his jaw.

Chan’s eyes softened, and he kissed her again, this time more urgently, as if the very act of being close to her was what he had been craving all this time. His hands slid down her back, pulling her closer, pressing her body against his. Y/N responded by wrapping her arms around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair.

The kiss deepened, each touch feeling more like a confession of everything they had been holding back. Y/N could feel the heat rising between them, the undeniable chemistry that had always been there, now unleashed.

When they pulled apart this time, their breathing was uneven, but their smiles never wavered.

“I want more of that,” Y/N whispered, her lips still tingling from the kiss.

“Then you’ll have it,” Chan promised, his voice low and filled with emotion.

As the night continued, Stray Kids and Y/N had moved back into the studio to work on the final touches for the track. The members were bustling around, preparing for the next stage of the project.

Chan and Y/N shared more than a few stolen moments during the session. Every so often, their hands brushed as they worked, the brief contact sending sparks through both of them. And each time, neither of them could resist the pull toward each other.

At one point, while the others were busy, Chan took Y/N’s hand and pulled her aside, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Hey, let’s take a break,” he suggested, his voice low.

Before she could say anything, he led her to a quiet corner of the studio, hidden away from the rest of the group.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he confessed, his breath warm against her ear as he leaned in.

Y/N shivered at his closeness, her heart racing once more. “I can’t stop thinking about you either.”

With those words, he kissed her again, this time with more intensity, his hands sliding down her sides as he pressed her against the wall. Her hands went to his chest, pushing him slightly away just enough to look at him.

“Chan… we’re—”

“We’re fine,” he interrupted gently, his lips brushing against her ear. “Just let it happen. Let me kiss you like I’ve wanted to for so long.”

Y/N could only nod before pulling him back toward her, their lips colliding in a passionate kiss. The kiss was messy and urgent, fueled by all the emotions they had kept bottled up for too long. Chan’s hands explored her back, pulling her closer as if he couldn’t get enough of her, and Y/N responded in kind, her hands threading through his hair as she tugged him even closer.

The kiss deepened, and she could feel her body reacting to his touch. Their shared heat, the taste of each other, was intoxicating, and she never wanted it to end.

Finally, when they broke apart, both were breathless, their faces flushed with the intensity of the kiss.

“I never want to stop,” Y/N whispered, her lips still tingling from his touch.

“Then don’t,” Chan whispered back, his voice full of quiet determination. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The days that followed were filled with moments of subtle tenderness. For Y/N and Chan, their quiet connection had blossomed into something undeniable. But the more they navigated their feelings for each other, the more the rest of Stray Kids began to notice.

The members had been teasing them here and there, but they were starting to notice the small, almost imperceptible shifts in their interactions. How Y/N and Chan would share private smiles, how they’d brush their hands together while working, and how they couldn’t seem to keep their eyes off each other. It wasn’t just obvious anymore—it was undeniable.

A Few Days Later

The members were lounging around in the dorm’s living room, casually chatting and watching TV. Y/N was sitting on the couch, her legs tucked underneath her as she scrolled through her phone. Chan was standing by the window, his back turned to everyone, but he kept sneaking glances at her—his gaze soft and full of affection.

Felix, ever the observant one, caught on first. He shot a glance at Hyunjin, who was sitting beside him, his curiosity piqued.

“Hyunjin, do you notice anything… different about Chan and Y/N?” Felix asked, his voice a little quieter than usual, so as not to attract attention.

Hyunjin turned to look at them, his eyes narrowing with interest. “What do you mean?”

Felix motioned subtly to the two of them. “They’ve been acting... weird lately. More than usual.”

Hyunjin leaned back, crossing his arms. “I’ve noticed. They keep exchanging these looks... and they’ve been so close. They’re not even hiding it anymore.”

“You think?” Felix whispered, eyes widening.

Changbin, who was sitting across from them, suddenly joined the conversation. “You guys are so slow.”

“What?” Hyunjin and Felix both asked, clearly puzzled.

“Their chemistry is so obvious that it’s painful to watch,” Changbin said, looking at them like they were oblivious. “They’re definitely together. It’s been clear for days.”

Felix’s eyes widened. “Wait, what? Are we talking about Y/N and Chan?”

Changbin nodded. “Are you guys blind? It’s been happening right in front of us.”

Meanwhile, Chan had been standing by the window, feeling the weight of his emotions pressing down on him. He knew the members were starting to figure it out, but he hadn’t yet decided how he was going to approach it. He wasn’t sure whether he was ready for the conversations that would follow—especially with Y/N being part of their world now.

Y/N glanced up at him from her phone, catching his thoughtful expression. She smiled gently, then stood up and walked over to him, her steps light. Without a word, she reached out and gently grabbed his hand, squeezing it.

“Everything okay?” she asked softly.

Chan turned to look at her, a small, tender smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About?”

He paused, his gaze flickering between her and the members. “About... how much longer we can hide this from everyone.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. “I don’t think we need to hide it anymore.”

She leaned in slightly, her lips brushing his in a brief but sweet kiss. When she pulled away, her smile was soft but confident.

But before Chan could respond, the others noticed them. The members had been watching the exchange and couldn't ignore it any longer.

“Okay, this is getting ridiculous,” Seungmin called out from the couch, grinning. “You two are so obvious. Stop pretending you’re not together already!”

Y/N froze for a moment, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. She pulled her hand from Chan’s and glanced at the members, who were all now looking at them with knowing smiles and raised eyebrows.

“Wait, what?” Y/N said, trying to sound nonchalant, though her voice cracked slightly. “What are you talking about?”

“We’ve all seen it,” Hyunjin said with a teasing grin. “The secret looks. The little touches. The way you two act when no one’s looking.”

Felix smirked. “Noona, you’ve been keeping it lowkey, huh? But come on, we’re not that dumb.”

Chan sighed, his shoulders slumping as he ran a hand through his hair. “I guess it’s pretty obvious.”

“I’m glad you finally admitted it,” Changbin said with a knowing wink. “We’ve been waiting for the two of you to figure it out.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, her embarrassment fading into amusement. “I guess it wasn’t as secret as I thought.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Han said, rolling his eyes playfully. “You two are the worst at keeping things under wraps.”

“Wait, so you’re really together?” Seungmin asked, his eyes wide with mock surprise. “No one told me!”

“We’ve been waiting for the right moment,” Chan said, his voice calm but still with a hint of nervousness. He glanced at Y/N, his hand finding hers once again, their fingers intertwining naturally. “But I guess this is the moment.”

Y/N smiled softly, giving his hand a squeeze. “Yeah. We’re together.”

The members all erupted into cheers and claps, teasing them relentlessly but with warmth and excitement.

“Finally!” Felix shouted. “We’ve been waiting for this day!”

“Congratulations, Chan hyung!” Hyunjin added with a wink. “You didn’t let us down.”

Chan rolled his eyes, but his smile was wide. “You guys are impossible.”

Y/N laughed along with them, the tension lifting from the room. It felt right to finally say it out loud, to not hide it anymore. She and Chan were not only in a relationship—they were part of each other’s worlds now, and there was no turning back.

The group fell into easy chatter, teasing and congratulating the couple, but there was a warmth in the air now, a sense of unity that made everything feel just a little bit more perfect.

After the teasing had died down, and the members had retreated to their own corners, Chan and Y/N found themselves alone in the living room. The weight of their confessions still hung in the air, and they shared a quiet, intimate moment together.

Chan pulled Y/N into a gentle hug, his arms wrapped securely around her waist as they stood in the middle of the room, the night outside peaceful.

“I’m glad we did this,” Y/N said, her voice soft as she rested her head on his chest. “It feels like a weight has been lifted.”

“I’m glad too,” Chan murmured, his lips pressing against the top of her head.

The days after the members discovered Y/N and Chan’s relationship were both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. While the members of Stray Kids were supportive, teasing, and genuinely happy for them, it also meant that their relationship was no longer a secret. It was out in the open, and the dynamic had shifted slightly.

But for Y/N and Chan, it felt like a new beginning. They could now be open with their feelings, share stolen moments without hiding in the shadows, and no longer had to hide the tender affection that had been building for so long.

A Week Later

Stray Kids had been hard at work preparing for their next performance, and the practice room buzzed with the usual energy and enthusiasm. However, there was a noticeable shift in the air. Y/N and Chan were no longer exchanging secret glances but instead spoke to each other with a familiarity and warmth that the other members had grown accustomed to seeing.

The energy was light, but there was an undeniable tension between the two of them—a good tension that seemed to draw them closer every time they exchanged looks or brushed past each other during rehearsal.

As they took a short break, Chan walked over to Y/N, who was sitting on the floor stretching.

“Need some help with that stretch?” he asked, his voice low but teasing.

Y/N smiled, looking up at him. “You always say that when I’m on the floor, don’t you?”

“Only because it’s cute when you stretch,” Chan replied, kneeling down next to her with a grin. He placed his hand gently on her shoulder, the touch sending warmth through her.

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. “You really need to stop with the compliments. You’re going to make me blush.”

“Good,” Chan said, leaning in closer. “I like it when you blush.”

She playfully pushed him away. “Stop! You’re too much sometimes.”

Before they could continue the playful banter, Bang Chan’s voice echoed from the other side of the room.

“Focus, you two!” Lee Know called, eyes narrowing teasingly. “We’re supposed to be stretching, not flirting!”

The entire room broke into laughter, but there was no denying the warmth between Chan and Y/N. The other members watched in amusement, clearly enjoying the comfort and chemistry between the two.

The Following Week

The group was now preparing for their upcoming comeback, and the studio had become a second home for Stray Kids. The energy was always high, and everyone was hard at work, but it also meant that Y/N and Chan had to navigate the complexities of being in a relationship while working in the same professional space.

As they worked side by side, Y/N noticed how effortlessly they fit into the dynamic of the group. Chan would check in with her about lyrics, sometimes brushing his hand against hers as he passed her papers or leaned over to suggest changes. The members were fully supportive, often teasing the two of them but always with good-natured humor.

But it wasn’t just the members of Stray Kids who noticed. The staff, the choreographers, and even some of the other artists who came in for recordings could feel the shift in the atmosphere whenever Y/N and Chan were together. The bond between them was undeniable.

And then, one afternoon, while the group was taking a short break, Y/N and Chan were caught in a moment of pure affection. As the group was chatting casually, Chan reached out to fix a stray lock of hair that had fallen over Y/N’s forehead. His fingers brushed against her skin, and their eyes locked for a split second. There was a quiet intimacy in the way they shared the look, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

Jisung, who had been quietly observing, raised an eyebrow with a smirk. “Okay, you two. We get it. You’re cute. But we’re trying to work here!”

Y/N and Chan both blushed, stepping apart quickly. “Sorry!” Y/N said, looking sheepish but also unable to hide the smile tugging at her lips.

“I swear, if you guys get any more obvious, we’ll need to separate you two,” Hyunjin teased, his grin mischievous.

The teasing didn’t stop there, but Y/N and Chan couldn’t help but laugh, the tension between them now replaced with a shared sense of comfort.

The peaceful moments Y/N and Chan shared were soon overshadowed by the weight of an inevitable decision: the time had come to announce their relationship to the public. Their growing affection had long been impossible to hide from the people closest to them, but now it was a matter of whether they would control the narrative or let the media take charge of their story.

For the past few weeks, both had been grappling with the idea of how to approach it. They were aware of the scrutiny that came with being public figures, but they had also realized that their feelings for each other were too strong to keep hidden any longer. They needed to be honest—not only with the public, but with themselves.

Chan and Y/N sat on the couch late one evening, a blanket draped over their laps as they spoke in low voices, the weight of their conversation hanging in the air.

“So, it’s really time,” Y/N said, her fingers nervously tracing the edge of the blanket. Her heart raced, knowing that once they made the decision, there would be no turning back.

“Yeah,” Chan said softly, his hand finding hers, gently squeezing it. “I don’t want to hide anymore. Not from them. Not from us.” He met her eyes, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “We’re strong enough to handle whatever comes. We’ve been through too much together.”

Y/N nodded, taking a deep breath. “I know. It just feels... scary. The media, the fans... What if they don’t accept us?”

“I’ll be with you through it all,” Chan reassured her. “No matter what happens, I’ve got your back. We’ve got this.”

She leaned against him, her heart swelling with affection. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

The day they decided to announce their relationship to the public arrived with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. Y/N and Chan sat down with their managers, who had prepared a statement that would be shared with the fans and media. It was carefully crafted to be both respectful and clear, allowing them to express their feelings while maintaining some level of privacy.

Y/N’s hands shook slightly as she held the piece of paper with the statement, but Chan’s reassuring presence next to her calmed her nerves. They knew they had to be careful, but they also knew they couldn’t hide anymore.

As the time for the announcement drew near, the tension in the air was palpable. The members of Stray Kids had gathered in the living room, anxiously awaiting their friends' decision. The room was filled with murmurs of excitement, nervousness, and support. Everyone knew the significance of this moment.

“Are you two ready?” Bang Chan asked, his voice steady as he glanced at Y/N.

Y/N smiled weakly, her nerves evident. “I think so.”

“Don’t worry,” Seungmin said with a teasing grin. “We’ve got your back. Besides, we know you guys are perfect for each other.”

The others nodded in agreement, giving them words of encouragement.

With a deep breath, Y/N and Chan stood together, ready to face the world.

The official Stray Kids Twitter account shared the announcement:

“Hello, Stays! We wanted to take a moment to share something important with you all. Over the past few months,Bangchan and Y/N have developed a close and special relationship, one that we are very proud of. As their friends, we wanted to support them in their decision to go public. We ask for your understanding and respect as they embark on this new chapter. As always, we are grateful for your continued love and support. Thank you.”

The post went live, and the reactions were immediate. Within minutes, thousands of comments flooded in from fans. Some were ecstatic, expressing their joy and excitement for the couple. Others were surprised but supportive, appreciating the honesty. However, there were a few critics who voiced their concerns, questioning their relationship and what it meant for the group’s image.

On the Twitter Feed

“Oh my god, Bangchan and Y/N?! 😭💖 So happy for them! They’re so perfect together!”

“I can’t believe this is real! I’ve been shipping them for so long!!”

“Wishing them all the best! Love is real, and so is this ship 😍💑”

“What?? I never saw this coming, but I support them! #StayTrue”

“Wow, this is so sudden. Is this the best decision for them, though?”

“I don’t know if I can handle this. I just hope they’re ready for what comes next. It’s a lot of pressure for them...”

The mixed reactions didn’t surprise either of them. They had both prepared for the scrutiny that came with the territory of being idols, but they also knew that the love they shared was worth it. The most important thing was that they had each other—and the unwavering support of their friends.

As the evening wore on, Stray Kids sat together in the living room, following up on their announcement. They had been checking social media reactions all day, and while there was a lot of love and support, it was clear that the announcement had stirred up a lot of attention.

“Are you guys, okay?” Han asked, his eyes soft as he turned to Y/N and Chan.

Y/N nodded, but there was a hint of concern in her eyes. “It’s a lot to process, but I think... we can handle it. I’m just glad we did it together.”

Chan smiled, his arm around Y/N’s shoulders. “We’ve got each other’s backs, no matter what happens.”

The members of Stray Kids rallied around them, offering their words of encouragement and support.

“You two are amazing,” Han said, a big smile on his face. “You’ve got all of us behind you, and we’ve got you covered.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about a thing,” Hyunjin added. “We’re a team, and we’ll take on whatever comes together.”

The love and support from the group was overwhelming, and it made the weight of the situation feel a little lighter.

That night, as the group finally settled in to relax, Chan and Y/N found themselves alone in the living room once again. They sat together on the couch, the glow of the soft lamps casting a warm light across the room.

Y/N rested her head on Chan’s shoulder, her hand still tightly clasped in his.

“Do you think we did the right thing?” she asked quietly, her voice filled with a mix of uncertainty and hope.

Chan kissed the top of her head gently. “I do. We’re finally being honest. And that’s all that matters.”

Y/N smiled, her heart full of gratitude. “I love you, Chan.”

“I love you too, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. “And nothing is going to change that.”

And for the first time in a long while, Y/N felt a sense of peace. No matter what the world threw their way, she knew that as long as they had each other, they could face anything.

[thenaughtynorth]

Breaking Judgment

After being betrayed by The Judgment Day, the reader destroys their locker room. Damian Priest, also betrayed by the faction, offers support and admits he cares for her. He stays the night to protect her, and the tension between them hints at something more brewing beneath the surface.

Damian Priest x female reader

Warnings: Kayfabe lmao

Word count: Roughly 2,700 and it’s actually proofread to the best of my ability

I love me some Damian Priest

———

The moment you slammed Finn’s leather jacket to the floor and stomped on it, the rage consuming you felt like a tidal wave. The Judgment Day had always been your family—or at least, that’s what they told you. Finn had been the leader, Liv the schemer, Raquel the enforcer, JD and Carlito two dumb stooges, and Dominik…well, Dom was just along for the ride. Together, they had made you believe you belonged. That you were one of them.

Until tonight.

“You’re just not good enough to run with us anymore,” Liv had sneered, her lips curling into a smirk that made your stomach churn. Raquel stood beside her, arms crossed, saying nothing. Finn didn’t even look at you as he passed judgment like it was beneath him to care. Dominik had just muttered an apology under his breath and avoided your eyes.

That was the moment something inside you snapped.

So here you were, standing in the middle of their trashed locker room, your breath heaving and your fists trembling. Clothes and gear were strewn everywhere. Finn’s jacket was ruined, Raquel’s duffel had been emptied out and dumped, and Liv’s makeup bag was shattered in the corner. But the pièce de résistance was Dom’s PS5, which now lay in pieces at your feet. The satisfying crack it made when you smashed it against the floor was the only thing that had brought you even a shred of satisfaction tonight.

But it still wasn’t enough.

“Feel better now?”

The deep voice behind you made you spin around, your heart lurching. Damian Priest stood in the doorway, his large frame blocking the exit. His dark eyes were fixed on the mess around you before settling on your face.

“What do you want, Damian?” you spat, your voice sharper than you intended.

He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. “I saw what happened,” he said simply, his tone calm but firm.

“So what?” you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest. “Come to rub it in? Tell me you told me so? Because I don’t need it right now.”

Damian’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “Trust me, I’m not here to gloat. But you made a scene out there, and it’s only a matter of time before Finn and the others come looking for you. You’re lucky I found you first.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Lucky? Yeah, sure. Real lucky. My so-called family just threw me to the curb, and now I’ve got nothing.”

“You think you had something with them?” Damian’s voice was sharper now, cutting through your self-pity like a blade. “They used you. The same way they used me. You were just too blind to see it.”

You flinched at his words, but deep down, you knew he was right. You’d been there when Damian was cast out, just like you were tonight. You’d stood by and done nothing, believing Finn’s lies that Damian had been the problem.

“That’s different,” you muttered, looking away.

“Is it?” Damian challenged, stepping closer. “Because it looks pretty damn familiar to me.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening as the weight of your mistakes pressed down on you. “I didn’t think they’d… I didn’t think it would end like this.”

“That’s because you let them get in your head,” Damian said bluntly. “They’re good at that. They make you think you’re part of something bigger, like they actually care about you. But the second you stop being useful to them? They throw you out like garbage.”

His words hit harder than you expected, and you felt your defenses crumbling. “So what now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What am I supposed to do, Damian? Because I don’t have a clue.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. For a moment, he looked like he was debating whether or not to answer. Then he stepped closer, his voice lowering.

“You do what I did,” he said. “You fight back. You don’t let them win. And you sure as hell don’t let them see you break.”

“And I’m supposed to just… do that on my own?” you asked, bitterness creeping into your tone.

Damian hesitated, his gaze softening slightly. “No,” he said quietly. “You’re not doing this on your own. You’ve got me.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his words. “Why would you help me?”

“Because I know what it feels like,” he admitted. “I know what it’s like to think you’ve found people who care about you, only to find out it was all a lie. And…” He trailed off, his eyes locking with yours. “Because I’ve always liked you. Even when you stabbed me in the back, I couldn’t bring myself to hate you.”

The confession made your breath catch, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. You’d spent so long convincing yourself that Damian was the enemy, that you hadn’t stopped to consider how he might have felt.

“Damian…” you started, but he held up a hand to stop you.

“Don’t,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. “You don’t have to say anything. Just know that I’m here. And if you want to take them down? I’m with you.”

You nodded slowly, your chest tightening with a mixture of guilt and gratitude. “Okay,” you said quietly. “Let’s do it.”

Damian nodded, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Good. But first, we’re getting out of here before Finn finds this mess.” He glanced around the room, letting out a low whistle. “Nice touch with the PS5, by the way.”

You couldn’t help the faint smirk that crossed your lips. “He had it coming.”

“Yeah, he did,” Damian said, opening the door and motioning for you to follow. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”

As you walked out of the destroyed locker room, a part of you felt lighter—like, for the first time in weeks, you weren’t completely alone.

The parking lot was eerily quiet as Damian’s car sped down the road, the hum of the engine filling the heavy silence between you. The adrenaline from trashing The Judgment Day’s locker room had long since worn off, leaving behind a cold ache in your chest. Damian sat in the driver’s seat, his expression unreadable as his hands gripped the wheel.

“You really went all in back there,” he said suddenly, his tone neutral but edged with something you couldn’t quite place.

“They deserved it,” you muttered, staring out the window.

“Yeah,” Damian agreed, though his voice was flat. “But that doesn’t mean it was smart.”

You turned to glare at him, anger bubbling up again. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“No, you didn’t,” he said calmly, his eyes fixed on the road. “But I’m giving it anyway. You think smashing their stuff is going to fix anything? You think Finn’s just going to shrug and let it go?”

You clenched your jaw, guilt and frustration twisting in your stomach. “I don’t care what Finn thinks,” you snapped.

Damian let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, you do. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be this worked up about it.”

His words hit too close to home, and you turned back to the window, refusing to let him see the tears threatening to spill over.

“Look,” Damian said after a long moment, his tone softening just enough to cut through your defenses. “I get it. They screwed you over. I know what that feels like. But if you’re going to survive this, you need to start thinking with your head instead of your emotions.”

The truth in his words stung, but you couldn’t deny it. “I didn’t know what else to do,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely audible over the hum of the car.

“That much was obvious,” he muttered, his tone still sharp but lacking malice.

Silence settled between you again, heavy and oppressive. You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, your mind racing with everything that had happened tonight. Finally, you forced yourself to speak.

“Why are you really helping me, Damian?” you asked, your voice trembling. “After everything I did to you—why do you even care?”

Damian sighed, his grip on the wheel tightening. “I told you. I know what it’s like to be where you are right now. And maybe I should walk away. Maybe I should let you deal with this on your own.” He glanced at you briefly, his dark eyes softening. “But I can’t. You know why.”

You sat there in silence, the weight of his words from earlier settling over you as the car pulled into the hotel parking lot. Did he actually like me?

The elevator ride to your room was tense and quiet. You could feel Damian’s presence beside you, solid and reassuring despite the tension in the air. When you reached your door, you hesitated, your hand hovering over the key card reader.

“Something wrong?” Damian asked, his voice breaking the silence.

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening with fear. “What if they come after me?” you asked, your voice trembling. “What if this isn’t over?”

“It’s not over,” Damian said bluntly. “But that doesn’t mean you have to let them win. You’re not with them anymore. You don’t owe them anything.”

“I know,” you said quietly, though the fear in your chest didn’t subside.

Damian sighed, his voice softening slightly. “You’ll be fine,” he said. “But if it makes you feel better, I’ll stay.”

Your head snapped up to look at him, surprise flickering across your face. “You’d do that?”

He shrugged, his expression neutral. “Yeah. Just for tonight. Don’t get used to it.”

You nodded quickly, swiping the key card and pushing the door open. “Thank you,” you said quietly, stepping inside.

The room was small and unremarkable, but it felt like a safe haven after the chaos of the night. You sat on the edge of the bed, your hands fidgeting in your lap as Damian leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his eyes fixed on you like he was still analyzing every move you made.

“You need to get some rest,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“And what about you?” you asked, glancing at him.

“I’ll keep watch,” he said simply, “make sure they don’t do some stupid shit.”

You frowned, guilt gnawing at you. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do,” he said firmly. “Because I’m not letting Finn and the others blindside you. Not on my watch.”

His words sent a strange warmth through your chest, but you pushed the feeling aside. “You could sit on the bed, you know,” you said reluctantly. “It’s big enough.”

Damian raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You sure about that?”

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks burned. “I’m not going to kick you out if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m more worried about whether or not you can keep your hands to yourself,” he chuckled, leaving you speechless. Had the circumstances been any different, he might’ve had a good point.

He kicked off his sneakers and moved to sit on the bed, making you super aware of his ginormous figure next to you. The warmth was radiating off of him, and it was as if the darkness had heightened your other senses, because my god did he smell incredible.

The silence was heavy, but it carried a different kind of tension now. You shifted, lying back on your side of the bed, staring up at the ceiling. You couldn’t stop your mind from racing—about Finn, Liv, Raquel, Dominik, and most of all, Damian.

“I still don’t get why you’re doing this,” you said quietly, glancing over at him. “Why you care so much.”

Damian turned his head to look at you, his dark eyes unreadable. “I told you. I really care about you.” He leaned back, resting on one elbow as his voice dipped lower. “You’re not just some teammate to me. You never were. I thought maybe the feelings had gone away, but mierda, I still fucking adore you.”

Your breath caught at the intensity in his gaze. “Damian…”

“I’m not looking for apologies or promises,” he interrupted, his voice calm but firm. “I’m just telling you the truth. Whether you believe it or not is up to you.”

The room suddenly felt warmer, the air charged with an unspoken tension. You weren’t sure what to say, your emotions tangled in a mess of guilt, fear, and something far more dangerous.

“You should get some sleep,” Damian said, his tone softer now but no less commanding. “You’ve had a long night.”

You nodded, lying back fully against the pillows. But as you closed your eyes, you felt the mattress shift slightly, Damian’s presence grounding you in a way that made your heart race.

“Damian?” you murmured, your voice hesitant.

“Yeah?”

You hesitated, your throat dry. “Thank you. For… everything.”

He didn’t respond right away, but then you felt him shift closer—just barely—and his voice dropped to a near-whisper.

“Don’t make me regret it, baby” he said, his tone carrying an edge that sent a shiver down your spine.

You nodded, your heart pounding as you felt the weight of his words settle over you. And as the tension in the room hung heavy, sleep felt like the furthest thing from your mind.

[velvetvexations]

I wasn’t totally fine with it, I thought it was weird but trusted her enough to think she had her own reasons.

Such a brave stance against transphobia. If someone misgenders trans women you're going to be understanding if I continue to say I respect them and reblog their based transfymynysm? If someone was he/himming you and I said I trusted them to have a good reason for it, and continued to pal around with them, that's fine, yeah?

Also what’s with all this hostility? I thought we had a positive interaction a bit ago and were like at least a little cool with each other now?

Were we? When I had you blocked you continued to go through my blog complaining about my takes and getting worked up about how everything I do vexates you. Our last conversation was me getting you to correct [name withheld] because it apparently got confused on something you told it and to your credit you did that and [name withheld] did delete the post. Funny as it is I think [name withheld] actually has surprisingly consistent morals as far as yall go. The bar is truly underwater, but relatively speaking, you know.

My point is, I feel like you've been consistently polite in DMs even to the point of expressing sympathy when I got really worked up and anxious, but then immediately go and trash me in really petty ways, and continue to go along with accusations of me believing things I manifestly do not believe. You yourself made a post about how I "call trans women groomers" because I think a niche on a dying social media website is unhealthy for them and could lead to them being abused like the last group that tried to reclaim 'baeddel.'

And, I mean, really, the audacity to go all "I thought we were on better terms now? :(" after you reblogged Talia having a meltdown over a post from months ago where I very briefly mentioned practicing Hinduism and she went on a rant about how Hinduism needs to be done away with because it's an inherently evil religion. (see here before anyone tries to say that's not what she was saying)

But beyond that, you believe and support really horrible things about others, so I'm not sure why you're expecting us to be super cordial. I am, right now, being a lot nicer to you than a lot of my engagements with people in your camp. Like you're good and cool with a woman who misgenders trans men and tells people to send them harassing messages to "demoralize" them, that alone is pretty bad, let alone all the lateral aggression you prop up.

I don't know why I'm getting so defensive about this. Be a kinder person if you don't want me to be "hostile" lol? I'm not calling you a moron, for the sheer size of the gulf between us I think that's relatively polite discourse by my standards. If you want to sincerely be my friend be a kinder person. I'll invite you to D&D games.

Seriously, Flen. I told you in DMs I was going to leave you unblocked again to hold a door open if you ever want to get out of this bullshit and be a kinder, better transfeminist. I would love nothing more for us to be pals, genuinely. I've literally helped a TERF deradicalize and retransition with this approach.

But you're going to have to stop calling people dehumanizing slurs like "th**fab" and maybe consider misgendering something worth taking a firm stance on even when it's not trans women.

This stuff is also barely related to what I asked. That being, what are TRFs (supposedly me) saying about bi and pan people?

I don't know, I said I didn't know in the OP, that's why I was only responding to the tags. Which is to say that yeah, maybe you never had problems when you identified as aro yourself, but you were totally behind a woman going "all the transandrobros are the same people who were pro-ace during the ace discourse" just recently, a spinelessness that fits considering how quick you were to fold on your objection to Thicc misgendering people.

Imagine my shock (actually not shock at all) when I found out that trans radfems are also exclusionists towards ace/aro people and bi/pan people

lmao the fuck are they saying about bi/pan people

[snailthehuman]

“They could’ve avoided all this if they just fucked” well consider they’ve actually been fucking the whole time and they’re just like this.

[little-whats-her-name]

"I can't hear you over the sound of the eight billion glasses and plates clinking, and the very high possibility that I'm going to lose my job, and the fact that everyone at this charity dinner hates me but we have to act nice to each other, and the weird lighting in this room, and these fucking Spanx!" - Katherine Hastings, probably

[ilkkawhat]

just reflecting today on the 7th poured drink tonight and recalling how when i was venting to my co-workers about yesterday and the panic attack i had and all that, she mentioned how I needed more help when I was drowning and i swear to you the immediate thing that came to mind when she said that was alan wake

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

Hi hi~ how are you! Have you seen the Satoru is a cheater/player allegations (help idk why I’m saying it as if he’s a real person lol)

It’s soo sad how people just keep mischaracterize him like that 😔

yeahhhhh i will never be a player/cheater gojo truther i fear 😭😭😭 that’s my aspec king. my loyal aspec king who is a Nice Guy Actually

[loumauve]

I snapped today at work, and by snapped I mean I politely commented on a help desk ticket by summing up an mess of an (type of) issue that's come up for at least the fourth time in the 2+ months I've been managing user accounts, and asked the person responsible to fix it (himself for once) because last time I fixed his mess-up it took me two whole days to work out the details with at least four other colleagues from different departments and I really don't want to do it again. there's other shit that needs doing, I've been working 10+ hour days for most of this week already, so I need to cut down not add on more.

(good thing tho - at least we managed to fix the issue where the dataset of a newer employee got mixed up with another one of the same name and therefore wasn't able to apply for any of the access/accounts she needed. technically not entirely my area but it does impact us not being allowed to create an account for her so I figured I might as well track that issue down. took three days and at least three other people, but hey - it should all work out now. yay for that)

[lakemichigans]

are we okay to talk about the v d a y vid now and how sad it is that the very platform they built their careers and lives on was the platform that essentially outed them in such a traumatic way. obviously the youtube glitch was just an accident but can you even believe the cosmic irony of it all

[batsinurbelfrey]

.

[p0ison-moon]

(this is petty and unreasonable of me but also it’s real feelings so whatever) gosh I just love the cycle of antisemitic thing happens ➡️ all my goy friends put one (1) thing on their Instagram story about and don’t mention it ever again or ask me if I’m okay ➡️ the post they shared is from some Zionist org that thinks Palestinians don’t have the right to organize and advocate for themselves and call out Israel etc etc or whatever ➡️ I get angry but don’t say anything because I’m always the angry anti-Zionist and also the angry Jew and I don’t want them to feel like they’re never going to be good enough for me ➡️ repeat

[pearlywritings]

Intimacy records

synopsis: what kinds of horny stuff they have in their phones and which is the favorite?

pairing and characters: Aventurine, Blade, Boothill, Dr Ratio, Gallagher, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Loucha, Sampo, Sunday (separately) x fem!reader

tw: SMUT, established relationship (marriage/dating), consensual recording of lovemaking, nudes, oral, lingerie, fingering, masturbation, public sex, breast play, shibari/blindfold, sex machine, creampie

word count: 4.3k+ words

Aventurine

Undoubtedly this man has a whole separate folder for intimate stuff. Of course, he demands you send him something on a daily basis - doesn’t matter if it’s a quick snap of your choice of lingerie in the morning, or recordings of touching yourself - but never enough to cum, it’s his job. Naturally he loves having reminders of you being at his mercy - thus there are also videos of you both (with primarily established consent). All that to say - he has quite the collection, so it’s really hard to pick a favorite, the most desire-arising one.

Maybe it’s a category actually - self-made media created out of bet. Who’ll cum first? Can you keep going without tearing up from pleasure for longer than 10 minutes? Is he patient enough not to touch your sexy self, while you masturbate in front of him? Who is going to be louder this time? These kinds.

”I hope you are ready to lose,” your lover smirks, making himself comfortable between your legs. Camera floats a little, as you chuckle behind it. With a momentary adjustment, the focus is on his face again and he winks, before turning to trail a little path of kisses across your thigh. The image jumps, when he sucks on the skin, and slightly trembles as you let out a sigh. Then it’s firm, as Aventurine wraps his arms around your thighs, his nose teasingly rubbing against your clit. Suddenly there is a lick, then your breath hitches…. And then he buries his mouth into your pussy. It doesn’t take much time for the image to begin shaking wildly, almost matching your debauched noises. There is squelching, there are award-winning male moans, muffled by your heat, soon there is a hand, your hand, reaching down and grabbing his hair. Phone strangely angles, hardly supported by just one hand, until it falls camera down onto the sheets. After that, there are just delicious screams of yours, chanting the name of your lover and begging him to stop, while he doesn’t listen, taking his reward for yet another win.

Yeah, he proved you can’t keep the camera focused while he is eating you out in that one. It’s truly a pity, that more than a half of what was going on, didn’t get recorded in image. Maybe next time you'll do better - oh... That's actually not a bad idea at all… Looks like you are in for another bet.

Blade

His situation is… quite peculiar. First of all, he has so little care for his own phone outside using it to get info for the mission, to the point ANYONE from the Stellaron Hunters can just take it and do whatever with it (Silver Wolf and Kafka practice it a lot). Even your relationship doesn’t change it much, he messages you rarely and quite shortly, preferring to save the conversation for personal interaction. 

However recently, Kafka has been putting a plan into action - the first step of which was banning everyone from getting into his phone (herself excluded). Then she’d start sending her colleague an occasional picture of a set of lingerie she’s oh so sure would look wonderful on you. Blade never answers, but he doesn’t tell her off either, and by the snooping she knows that the pictures get bookmarked, the links for the shops she attaches are visited, and sums of money are being spent.

Oh, and by checking the chat… She knows you get them delivered. Does she text you to shower you with compliments? She does. At first it was a little embarrassing and you asked Blade if he could, maybe, pay better attention to his phone??? But soon, when your lover started showing the telltale signs of jealousy... It became pretty hot (plus praise from THE Kafka? Ego-boosting).

Blade doesn’t voice it, but more than seeing you all pretty for him, he loves seeing you ruined for him, and doesn’t complain when you ask him to take a picture with your phone of whatever part of you, focusing on the marks, or the torn crotch of your panties, or something alike… There are times when he would text you with a simple ‘send me pictures with torn stockings’ or ‘yesterday. open nipples bra. now’ , because he knows you have them, and you deliver, because you know he loves them. 

Has his favorites:

Depicts your thighs, bitten and opened wide, while the black panties are pushed aside to let two thick, scar-covered fingers dive into your pussy.

Your body after one of the sessions - bra roughly pushed down under the mark-covered breasts, panties missing, one stocking still on the leg, but with multiple holes in it, and the other tying your wrists above your head.

A small video you insisted on recording of the man tugging onto your garter belt whenever he wanted your hips to push towards his thrust, threatening for the thin elastic material to snap.

Even though he doesn’t save them, he knows how to get an easy access to them, so for Blade it works quite fine (and Kafka’s plan does too, making Blade look less intimacy-repulsed and spicing up your relationship).

Boothill

A cyborg, whose only human part of the body is the head, and sex life… How can this be possible? 

Oh, trust me, it can. Sure, his bodily reaction differs, but he still is excited to get nudes from you, finally able to express through the text what he really thinks with that foul mouth of his. A voice recording of you dirty talking to him? Awesome. A video? You can bet his engine is overheating and vents are whirring.

But in all honesty, the ones he truly loves and returns to are the recordings of him doing stuff to you. Call him self-conscious, it’s not like he can bite back with a swear, but the reminder that he can bring you pleasure even now is sometimes necessary.

The lights are intimately dimmed, not enough to bring the room into utter darkness. Two bodies are lying almost intertwined with your back turned to the camera. The metal arm of your lover has sneaked under your side and around your waist, fingers digging into the plush glob of your ass, tugging on it, to further the spread which is created by your leg thrown over his hip. Your pussy is perfectly presented to the camera, puffy and slick, with two gray plated fingers massaging it. Digits slide up and down your labia, occasionally staying on the clit, to rub tight circles on it and elicit some sweet moans out of you, only to return to their previous ministrations, dipping the tips juuust a little bit into the quivering hole. Your back arches and body deliciously shivers from the contrast of his cool and your heat, and you softly whine, when he releases your ass cheek to give it a spank and then grab it again, unwilling to let the sight of your cunt escape his phone’s camera. You whimper something, muffled by his chest, but he remembers by heart what you were begging for. ‘Please, put your mouth on me.’ He will, in a minute, but right now he pushes both fingers to the second knuckle in, making you jolt in his hold, but not letting you go anywhere.

It’s captivating, how his inhuman digits disappear and reappear with every thrust he makes; slick-covered they look shiny, as if you polished them, and the cyborg shudders, imagining your tongue running around them. That’s one dangerous video, he may just give in to his want to see you and abandon the mission he was assigned to…

Dr Veritas Ratio

Unsurprisingly, Veritas’ phone doesn’t contain that much stuff in general. Maybe some downloaded articles, notes to put down later, if he doesn’t have a piece of paper at the moment, and very few pictures, mainly of his writings on the chalkboard. Don’t be discouraged though, of course he has pictures of you. Some selfies you took after “borrowing” his phone and ones he doesn’t have a heart to delete (but he will scoff at you, should you decide to tease him), and some very well-thought images he took on his own accord - he needs reference for when he decides to let his mind rest from research and focus on sculpting.

And one might think that such a reserved and cold man will not entertain storing anything explicit on his phone. Well, he indeed does not have any pictures and videos saved - if he wants, he can either find what you sent him via your chat or just demand your assistance. However… There is something that strangely became his way of concentrating when doing his research…

”Oh! Mh- *thrust* Veri- ohmygod! *thrust*”

“Wait- Aaah! I can’t! I’m sore! MmmmMMM!” “No, you can and you will. Now hold still, I can’t eat you out if you keep thrashing around.” “Oh Aeons!”

*Slick sounds of you going down on him, gurgling and choking on his girth, occasionally gasping to catch your breath, only to have his cock buried in your throat again*

“Baaaby… I miss you so much… Can I come to your office? I promise to be good… Just need to cockwarm you - nothing else I swear. Let me keep you company pleeease. Imagine how nicely it'd be to have your cock buried in my pussy, while you are working… Need to help you with stress-relief, it's gonna feel so-so good.”

“Oh fuck, o-oh, love, I'm cumming, I'm cumming, I’mcumMIN-” “Ngh, s-so…tight…” “Aaaaaaah~!”

“Veritas Ratio, if you come home in ten minutes, I will give you a nice massage and then ride you damn cock, till the only thing you can think about is not your work, but me. If you fail to do so though… I wonder if my threat to use some toys instead will work. Just know that your wife is very mad. And horny.”

It doesn't matter if the audio was taken while you were intimate or it was something you sent to him and he saved - he thoroughly enjoys everything your voice has to offer to him. And if instead of concentrated it accidentally makes him horny - he'll just play the next one, while undoing his pants.

Gallagher

Oh, this man is a menace. And a huge ass-lover. His gallery is full of pictures of your booty: clothed, just panty-clad or bare. There are shots with your body clearly being bent, ass up and back covered in his load. Videos of him fucking you from behind, with cock sliding in and out of your pussy? Obviously. Recordings of it jiggling as he spanks you? Would’ve been strange if they weren’t there.

However, in that vast collection of his, there is a video that’s most peculiar - one might say scandalous. It was one of those nights when he took over the bar for Siobhan and you came over at some point, all enticing and so sexy in that little dress of yours… He could not resist taking you right there once the establishment was closed. And it got on security camera...

Moans so loud, that they are reaching the recording device, are still of the delicious kind. Your back is arched over the bar counter, arms lifted and wrists tied by none other but Gallagher’s wine-red tie, and held by his own hand for good measure. The front of your dress is pushed down, revealing your pretty breasts, jiggling with every thrust of the man’s hips, and the hem of it has ridden up, baring your stomach and mark-covered thighs. Your lover is barely unclothed, pants and boxers pushed down just enough to free his cock and the tie, obviously, missing. The hand that is not holding your wrists, is grabbing onto your leg, under the knee, lifting it for a better angle, and showing off a lewd detail - your black lace panties hanging on your shin. You are looking positively debauched, and he is no better, groaning and cursing, with an occasional exceptionally rough trust that makes you scream and whine. There are teeth-gritted ‘slut’s and huskily chuckled ‘bad girl’s with your pleading ‘sir’s and ‘Gal’s, all of that deliciously seasoned with the clapping of the wet skin colliding. But nothing beats the moment of you cumming, depicted by no less than three cameras from all of the hottest angles…

Of course this footage was ‘confiscated’ by him with some dumb excuse for Siobhan (he doubts she believed it, given the knowing look and shit-eating grin she gave him), with all traces destroyed except just one copy thoroughly hidden on his phone. He thinks you two should repeat that - this time, however, he’d love to bend you over the counter with your back facing him…

Gepard Landau

Gepard would die if someone took his phone and got into his gallery. Poor man has to change the password weekly to throw Serval off his case (she was only teasing, but that made her brother paranoid). There is a reason for such behavior - while he is way too sweet and gentlemanly to suggest making sexy pics or, Supreme Guardian forgive, videos, he can't help but to be too whipped for you. 

This man dutifully saves every single photo and video of yours - nudes included.

You don't send them very often - you don't want to kill your darling husband. But sometimes the yearning is unbearable, and there is a suffocating need to show Gepard what he is missing while away on duty (you always leave a warning message though, so he could check it while alone and undisturbed).

No matter how red and embarrassed he gets, the man timidly admits that he enjoys this kind of attention. He is not beyond the earthly pleasures - he too has a favorite theme, that recently became more present in what you send him…

At first you looked so absolutely cute and domestic with his huge sweater on, the one you personally knitted for him - the beginning of the video didn’t look all that different from the photos you sent him just minutes before. But soon it becomes clear why you asked if he was alone, because once you position the phone and climb onto the bed, your full attire gets revealed. White stockings are replacing your usual home pants, and as your fingers grab the hem of the sweater and tug it up, the white panties from a matching set start peaking. The view is both pure and alluring, with the way your legs are spreading wide, and the sweater being pushed further up, baring your braless breasts. The hem gets secured between your teeth and both hands teasingly run down your sides, index fingers drawing circles around the tits, before squeezing them; as one remains right there, the other slowly slides down your stomach, disappearing under the hem of those flimsy panties. Imagination paints wild images - every next is hotter than the previous, and only your muffled moans of his name and rapidly rising chest are indicators of how good you feel with fingers pushing in and out of your pussy. And that damn sweater… You are not taking it off.

The Captain of the Silvermane Guards has one guilty pleasure - you, wearing his clothes. Domesticity, longing, finding comfort in something of his touches his heart and heightens his love and desire for you, almost making him consider taking a regular day off.

Jing Yuan

This man literally worships the ground his wife is walking on, so OF COURSE he wants to have as many pictures and videos of you as possible. It gets so boring and lonely when he is at work, after all. But don’t be fooled by his sweet and innocent smile, there are not only cute shots of you both or just you, he has sexy stuff too.

Man is obsessed with your chest. It’s his favorite pillow (thus so many pictures of him snuggling his face right between your breasts), his best stress-relief (photos and short videos of his big veiny hands cupping and squeezing your girls, with an occasional swipe of the thumbs over the erect nipples), his favorite place to leave marks on (no one can see them under the clothes, but just one tug of his finger on your collar and he is met with a delicious sight. Plus the photos he asks to send occasionally).

Loves, loves, loves, purchasing lingerie for you and when you demonstrate your bra-clad tits. He immediately wants them in his face, but there is the phone screen keeping him away.

But oh does he love recordings of playing with them.

Your body is steadily bouncing on your husband’s lap, creating a beautiful melody of skin slapping against skin. There is an occasional peak of his thick cock, covered in your juices, that immediately disappears again, undoubtedly swallowed by your pussy. One strong arm is wrapped around your waist, supporting you, while the other hand is palming at your left breast. The right one has fallen victim to his eager mouth, lips wrapped around the nipple, sucking on it tenderly, tongue toying with the overstimulated nub. His eyes are half-lidded when he looks up at you, moaning around your breast, when you tug on his luscious locks, trying to push him away, to give you a small rest. He is drawing back indeed, planting a soft kiss to the valley between the jiggling globes, and you sigh in relief, deceived by his affectionate action. Only for you back to arch and mouth hang in a loud moan, when Jing Yuan brings your other breast to his awaiting tongue, dropping both hands to your hips to aid you in speeding up your riding, sensing your nearing orgasm.

Maybe next time you should try recording him making you cum by playing with your chest only… Ah, just the thought makes his cock swell.

Loucha

As much as Loucha enjoys your company and more often than not allows you to accompany him in his journeys, there are times when he can’t take you with him. Which means he leaves for weeks, or sometimes a couple of months, going through the days without a single touch from you. Before getting into a relationship with you, he could survive without intimacy just fine, but now, since he knows the taste of affection and being spoiled by you, it’s getting hard.

That’s when recordings on his phone come in handy, especially when there is no opportunity of a video call to indulge. And there is one he most frequently returns to…

Your chest is rising and falling, pretty breasts with perky nipples brought together by a wrap of a rope. Red and purple marks bloom on your skin akin flowers, some fresh, some from days before. Sweat shines on your hot skin, indicating just for how long the blonde has been torturing you with pleasure and denial. There is a small shake of the video, as your lover is establishing his phone, having just started the recording, and softly making you aware of how good you look - you wouldn’t know with that blindfold covering your eyes. Once the angle is perfect - capturing your arms, tied above the head, the arch of your back and thighs pushed together for stimulation, the man is joining you on the bed. It is cock-hardening, how you lift your head to find his lips, when you sense him leaning down, needily allowing him to indulge in a kiss before the game of orgasm denial continues. His hand meanwhile is creeping down your body, starting with caressing your cheek, fingers sliding down your neck, over the swell of your breast, thumb pushing against the nipple, eliciting a moan out of you right into his mouth, and then palm splaying on your stomach, traveling even lower, before it disappears between your thighs.

Loucha is a man of foreplay. There is nothing more satisfying to him, than indulging into your body before sinking his cock into your warmth. He loves making you squirm, completely at his mercy, drawing you right to the edge, and then denying you the sweet release, just to make you yearn, just to stretch the process out.

Sampo Koski

Sampo is nasty and that is not a secret. I am sure, if you were up for it, he’d suggest filming porn just for the giggles (and extra cash, come on, you both are fucking hot). There are teasing nudes and intimate videos, and it’s not a rare occasion of either of you texting the other with some found porn with a caption ‘let’s try it?’ and you do, frequently recording the process to compare later, and claiming that your performance is better.

However, sometimes it tends to not go according to the script (not like you usually have one). Sampo is chaotic and it’s not hard to lose focus with a lover like him, and these exact moments are Koski’s favorite. Despite being a Masked Fool, during these times he himself looks so sincere, it’s as unnerving, as it is exciting. Rewatching such videos and seeing how you mirror the look in his eyes, giggle with him, even crack a joke, all without ruining the mood - makes him believe he’s found his soulmate (and if you did film porn with him, he’d never share this level of intimacy with your viewers, it solely belongs to you two).

You are giggling, shaking your head with a wide smile, all the while lying on your stomach between his toned mark-covered thighs and leisurely fisting his hard, leaking cock with an angrily red tip. 

‘Sampo, please, be a little serious, we are trying to be sexy here.’

‘We are sexy! What’s not hot in shaping my and your pubic hairs into the lips?? They could kiss, when we fuck!’

‘You are unbelievable,’ you snort, trying to save the last bits of your composure, and leaning forward to mouth at his tight balls. This makes your lover pornographically (how ironic) moan, throwing his head back.

‘Mmm, yes, right there~ Oooh… If am soooo unbelievable, it must mean I am dreamy? How about I bring you to a Penacony, to a Dreamscape? I bet in your dream I’d be as good in bed as I am in reality.’

Your resolve snaps and you burst out laughing, letting go of his sack and pressing your face to his thigh, shaking, dropping the hand from around his cock. Sampo whines.

‘Come ooooon, I was so close!’

‘Shu-ah-ha-t-ah-uh-p,’ you manage through your laughter. The man pouts, but the gaze of mint green is summer-warm as he is looking down at your trembling form. Your voice is pretty, your cackles are pretty, and oh damn he is laughing too.

And these are just the first few minutes of the last video, the thing has a duration of half an hour, so, obviously, you didn’t stop there. That’s what Sampo Koski loves - no matter how cringe you become, it’s never a reason to stop the whole process. If anything it’s something to spark an even longer and intimacy-filled one.

Sunday

Keeping personal stuff on his phone is quite dangerous, given Sunday’s position. That’s why he owns two phones - his work one, and one to mainly contact you, his sister, and a small circle of the most trusted people. He is extremely good at handling the owning of two separate devices, never mistaking one for another, that people are often convinced he has only one.

But it’s his personal cellphone that interests us. Oh, does he have a whole collection of photos and videos of you, one folder in particular hidden just for good measure. Sunday is a collected and regal man, yet it doesn’t mean he has a hard time enjoying your teasing. Quite contrary, sometimes he welcomes it, loving the photos you send him from an outing, shopping for clothes, or better yet, lingerie, sending him multiple shots of different sets and asking him which he loves most, and which he’d like to see on you tonight. 

There are videos too, especially when he’s been extremely busy, and you are oh so needy, sending him short recordings of touching yourself, sighing out his name, begging him to come and help you. However, there is one he particularly likes…

Big silicone cock is being pushed in and out by the machine he purchased for you to quell your need when your husband can’t be there for you. You are on your stomach, with hips slightly raised and pushed backwards, chasing the toy, and he can see the perfect outline of your pussy, outer lips swollen and puffy, covered in a sticky substance, opening and constricting in attempts to accommodate the girth. Your moans are sweet, so-so sweet, hitting a high pitch, when the dildo falls out and a thick glob of cum substitute escapes your pussy. And then another, and another, messing your thighs even more, ruining the towel underneath you. Yet you don’t stop, reaching behind, and pushing the tip back into your tight warmth, making the toy pick its pace again. It’s squelching, it’s so dirty, but it’s so hard to look away. You give yourself creampie, after creampie, sometimes stopping to collect the substance and push it inside with your digits, fingering, moaning and whining for your husband, wishing it’s his cum sploshing between your walls, breeding you.

Yes, it’s his favorite, almost 4-minute video. Ever the neat freak, he can’t deny you look heavenly when ruined, on an equally ruined bed, begging for his attention and semen. You have to forget about the machine for some time, however, because since then Sunday has been truly devoted to breeding you.

[s0dium]

I fucking hate him

A/n: One of the dialogues is lightly taken from "God of Ruin" by Rina Kentaken (plz check it out) Enjoy!!

Word count: 3.5k

Synopsis: You detest Yuji's uncle, Sukuna. His demeanor is rude and abrasive, and he is undoubtedly a sadist. You don't even try to hide your disdain, but the more you try to distance yourself from him, the stronger his opposition grows. Each attempt to push him away only seems to draw him in closer, closer, ever so close.

"You're fucking insufferable," you spat, your eyes narrowing with hatred. "You're pretentious," Sukuna shot back, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his mouth." No, you're a narcissist," you hiss" Yeah, but I turn you on," he purrs

Warning: Hate sex, rough sex, biting, fingering, edging, cowgirl, size kink, breeding, unprotected sex, slight voyeurism, breeding

You remember the day you met Sukuna for the first time like it was yesterday.

It was during the somber occasion of Wasuke Itadori's funeral—Yuji's beloved grandfather. The day was draped in a heavy sorrow; after the ceremony and the lowering of the casket, you followed the Itadori family back to their home. Being practically family yourself, and living just next door, it felt natural to join them and if not grieve, support the grieving family alongside them. While everyone gathered in the garden, sharing hushed memories and quiet support, you slipped inside the house to charge your phone.

As you stepped into the room, the air felt suddenly charged, like the prelude to a storm. There in the living room, was a man, a large man, lounging on one of the sofas dressed in a black suit and tie. The first thing you notice is his striking pink hair contrasting sharply with the dark, intricate tattoos that crawl up his neck and frame his face. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, fix on you the moment you enter, and his smirk is like a crack in a mask of indifference.

"You must be the famous dear friend of the family, Y/n right?" he drawls, his voice as smooth as silk and just as dangerous. "Heard a lot about you. All good things, I promise." His voice drips with sarcasm making you thickly gulp.

You hesitate by the doorway, your initial smile freezing on your lips. This was the Sukuna Ryomen? The man you'd heard only in hushed conversations between Jin and Choso, the man Yuji calls his uncle? You try to muster your composure, crossing the room to stand at a respectable distance.

"I wish I could say the same," you reply, aiming for polite but firm. Your voice wavers just slightly.

Sukuna chuckles, a sound that rumbles deep in his chest. "Oh, come now. No need for such defenses. I'm not the monster they painted in their tales. Or perhaps I am, and that's what intrigues you? What do you think so far" he bends forward. "Am I intriguing?"

You bristle at his words, the arrogance dripping from each syllable like poison. "I-I dont know about that." You curse yourself at the way your voice comes out as a stutter. "I'm here out of respect for your family."

"Respect," he repeats, tasting the word as if it's something exotic. "Funny, I never put much stock in that. The old man sure tried to teach me, shame he is gone. But perhaps you'll teach me its value?"

What the hell does he mean by that?

He stands suddenly, closing the distance between you with a few measured steps. You can’t help but step back, your back hitting the wall. His presence is overwhelming, suffocating.

"Why so tense?" Sukuna teases, leaning close, his breath ghosting over your cheek. "I'm just trying to get to know you better. After all, anyone who loves my family must have some redeeming qualities, hidden though they may be. Although," he tilts his head, as if analyzing you. "I wouldn't be surprised if they just kept you around cause you're a pretty thing to look at."

You feel a flush of anger and embarrassment heating your cheeks. "I think you've gotten to know enough for one day," you snap, ducking under his arm and striding toward the door. His laughter follows you, low and mocking.

"Oh, don't be like that!" he calls out. "We're just getting started!"

It only took a minute. One minute for you to decide that you hated Sukuna with a fucking passion.

Unfortunately, the fact that Sukuna had just gotten out of jail, did nothing to hamper your hatred. It seemed like ever since he got out, he was not only determined to stick to the family, but to you, like glue.

The Friday night dinners with the Itadori family, once cherished and loved, had practically turned into a battleground. What used to be a warm gathering was now filled with endless teasing and arrogant attempts at flirting. You were even hesitant to stay over now, as you were never to sure when you’d turn a corner and there Sukuna would be with some sleazy remark about your pajamas.

You tried talking to the Itadori family about it, tried complaining to Jin and raise your concerns. And as receptive and understanding as they were, you knew that for them, blood was thicker than anything, and in some part, you knew that applied to you too.

Still, you persisted, even now as you sat at another Friday dinner you were determined to just enjoy yourself with the family you loved so much.

Key word, tried.

"Well, Jin, I must say, this food is... quaint.” He says through a chuckle and you have to bite the inside of your cheek from throwing a fork at him right there and then. “Did you burn it on purpose, or was that just a happy accident?"

"Dude," You breathe a sigh of relief when Choso speaks up, his voice calm but firm. "Can you go one day without being a jerk?" His eyes are fixed on Sukuna, echoing the frustration you both share about his behavior. This solidarity is one of the reasons why you feel closest to Choso in the family. His understanding and shared grievances with the insufferable man were one of the reasons why you two were best friends.

"Please, I bet this food beats anything you had in prison." You whisper under your breath, but audibly enough that others catch it when you hear Choso breathe through his nose in a laugh-like snort.

Sukuna sets down his silverware and leans forward with a grin, his eyebrows raised in amusement as he gazes across the table at you. "Oh, someone's got a sharp tongue," he remarks. "Careful, angel, you might cut yourself."

You roll your eyes and sharply cross your arms. "Funny, coming from someone who probably had to beg for scraps behind bars. Do you even know what real food tastes like?"

You don’t miss the way Yuji chokes on his pasta, stifling back laughter making you smile.

Sukuna's lips curve into a sly smirk as he locks eyes with you. "Oh trust me, I've tasted a lot of things. But I guess you wouldn't understand, being so... sheltered."

Unfazed, you shoot back with a dismissive wave of your hand, "Sheltered? Please. At least I don’t need to rely on prison slop to remind me of home."

This time, Sukuna's response is a silent, piercing stare that makes you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Even though you were wearing a sweater and shorts, his gaze made you feel like you were naked.

From the corner, Jin clears his throat, chuckling nervously. "Um, maybe we should all just calm down a bit—"

You cut him off, your voice firm as you defend the meal laid out before you. “No way, not when he disrespects your food, which is great, may I add.”

"Oh, I love it when you get all fired up." Sukuna's eyes glint with mischief as he watches your rising frustration. "It's adorable."

Feeling the heat rush to your cheeks, you stand up abruptly, pushing your chair back with a scrape. "Excuse me, I think I'm full," you declare crisply, gathering your dishes with a clatter and storming off to the kitchen to dump them in the sink. Without a backward glance, you stride toward the living room, your footsteps echoing your irritation.

"Come on, why do you always gotta be such an ass, Uncle?" Yuji mumbles, shooting a glare at Sukuna who only responds with a shrug.

As you sank into the couch cushions, you let out a deep sigh of relief, your body sinking into the familiar comfort of your favorite spot. You turned on the TV, dazedly watching whatever was on, trying to distract yourself from the day's tensions. Of course, thoughts of Sukuna kept creeping into your mind. What was his problem with you? Did the man get dropped on the head as a baby? How and the hell were he and Jin brothers?? Surely he was the result of some fucked up science experiment.

Engulfed in your thoughts, the passage of time slipped unnoticed until a shift in the couch's cushion snapped you back to reality. You turned, and -

Oh what the fuck.

Sukuna settled next to you, leaning on the armrest of the other side of the couch, a tattooed hand settled on his thigh, He had changed into a white tank top and sweatpants, and you feel your heart jump when your eyes unconsciously travel to between his leg where a slight budge pressed against the fabric. Shit. The tips of your ears turned red and you bit the inside of your cheek. That's another thing you loathed about Sukuna; how the scent of his old spice shampoo made you dizzy, how the way he towered over you made your breathing stop, how despite how fucking insufferable he was, he was so so so attractive.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you choked out, your tone edged with disbelief and irritation.

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "What does it look like? Watching TV," he replied coolly, his eyes briefly scanning the screen before settling back on you. "Everyone's gone to sleep, you know."

"No, what are you doing sitting next to me?" you hissed, the proximity suddenly feeling far too close despite the physical distance. Your eyes narrowed, locking onto his vermillion eyes.

"Why you afraid I'll bite?" He says, gnashing his teeth together in a teasing display before moving closer to you. "Don't worry, I only bite when I'm asked."

"S-stop talking to me like that," you say, trying to shuffle back, but find yourself already trapped against the armrest.

"Like what?" Sukuna's voice is teasing, almost playful.

"Like I'm your toy."

He tilts his head slightly and leans forward, a smirk playing at his lips. "More like my doll."

"More like your grim reaper. I'll slice your throat if you touch me," you retort sharply, the tension between you crackling. You watch the way his eyes rake over you like a porn magazine, making you cross your arms as if to shield yourself.

He laughs, a sound rich with amusement. "You're such a menace. I want to gobble you up."

As he inches closer, the scent of his shampoo fills the air—a fragrance so intoxicating you want to bury your nose in it, yet you resist. "I'll give you indigestion, asshole," you snap, trying to maintain your composure.

"Worth it, muse," he counters smoothly, his eyes locking onto yours.

"Sure you're going to be thinking about that when I punch you in the face?"

"Oh, and make me bleed? Blood?" He licks his lips. "Yum." He feigns shock, leaning even closer. "You just keep ticking all my boxes today. Did you do your research on me?"

"Not even if you were the last man alive," you choke out, his proximity overwhelming, his face just inches from yours now. A slight move, and your noses would brush against each other.

"Last man to everyone else? No. To you? Highly likely." His whisper is a taunt, his breath a warm tease against your skin.

That's it.

As you attempt to rise from the couch, Sukuna's large hand swiftly lands on your thigh, pressing just firmly enough to guide you back down onto the cushion. You react instinctively, trying to swat his hand away, but he's quicker; he catches both of your wrists in his grasp, holding them gently yet with an unyielding firmness.

"What the hell are you doing?" you demand, your voice sharp with alarm and a flare of anger, your eyes locked intensely on his, searching for an explanation in his steady gaze.

"Jesus christ Y/n" Sukuna groans, rolling his eyes, "How long are we going to keep this thing of ours going?"

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Our thing? What thing?”

“The thing where we act like we hate each other but actually want to fuck the brains out of each other.” He chuckles.

Your eyes widen and you feel your face grow deathly hot. You try to step back, and get some space, some room to breathe, but the hand on your wrist keeps you from doing so.

“I-fuck you” The words come out of your mouth more soft and meager than you intended to, and you find yourself locked into his blue gaze.

“Believe me, I've thought about it.” His voice is low, and his face isn't painted with a shit-eating grin like it so usually is, he's serious and stern. You stay silent as you watch him examine your face. He leans in, close enough to kiss you, raises his right hand and runs his finger tips down your face.

"Will you bite my tongue if I kiss you?"

"Maybe"

Sukuna's mouth crashes onto yours, hard, angry, and demanding. He doesn't even give you a chance to resist, not even a breath. His lips are fierce against yours, stealing every breath you try to take. Your hands instinctively move to push him away, but instead, you find yourself gripping his shirt, pulling him closer.

You meet his aggression with equal force, your lips moving furiously against his. His hands cup your face roughly, holding you in place as his tongue demands entry. You respond with a whine, opening up to him, your tongues tangling in a heated dance.

Every kiss is a challenge, every touch a dare. You bite his lower lip, drawing a groan from him that vibrates through you. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you flush against him. The intensity of the moment leaves you breathless, hot, and angry.

Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging sharply as if to remind him you won't be dominated easily. He retaliates by pressing you harder against the cushions, so you have no choice but to melt into him.

In one swift motion, Sukuna pulls back just enough to yank his shirt over his head, revealing muscles lined with black tattoos beneath. Before you can even take a breath, he’s back, his mouth claiming yours with renewed fervor. His hands move to your shirt, fingers pulling at the fabric of your sweater. You break the kiss for a mere second as he tugs your shirt off, then he dives back in, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that makes your head spin.

His hands roam over your newly exposed skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Your breath hitches as his fingers find the waistband of your pants. He undoes them with a practiced ease, pushing them down and leaving you in just underwear and bra, feeling vulnerable and exposed.

"W-what do you think you're doing?" you stutter, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he replies, his voice low and filled with a wicked amusement.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "I'm gonna fuck you." His hands slide over your hips, pulling your pants down completely, and you shiver at the sensation of his touch.

You whine when he places his knee between your legs which pushes against your clothed crotch. You involuntarily buck up your hips to try and gain more friction, making Sukuna chuckle; his shit eating grin widening.

“Needy, arent you?”

Your instinct is to tell him to fuck off, but he is already hooking a finger under your pastel pink panties; pulling the material down to reveal your cunt. You mentally curse yourself at the fact that you're already wet, a fact that will sure to swell Sukuna's ego.

Your hands fly down to hide yourself but he swats them away, giving you a glare before sliding a finger up and down your wet slit; collecting the juices before pushing a digit into your tight hole.

"S-shit." your groan, and the moment you clench around him, a sickening grin spreads across his tattooed face.

"Always knew you where gonna feel great around me."

The first curl of his fingers knocks the wind out of you, as it hits the sweet spot inside of you that you could only dream to reach on your own.

“Hah~ I cant-” You whimper, stomach clenching and legs trembling from the pleasure. You want to say you hate this, tell him to get off of you but you can't, you can't even think straight. You even push your hips out, angling them so his digits reach deeper into that sweet spot that sends tendrils of electricity through your body. But before you can fully bask in the pleasure, before you can taste your orgasm on your tongue, he pulls his fingers out.

"You think I'm gonna let you cum so early? After all the shit you have pulled?" His hand flies to your throat wrapping around it with a force that belies the strength behind it. Your breath hitches, a strange mix of fear and exhilaration coursing through your veins. His touch is firm, and commanding, but there’s an undeniable pleasure in the way his fingers tighten slightly, reminding you of the power he holds.

"Nah no way." Sukuna chuckles "Your just gonna have to suck it up."

You try to speak, but his grip tightens just enough to cut off your words, leaving you gasping. The pressure on your throat is intoxicating, a strange pleasure mingling with the discomfort. You can feel your pulse throbbing under his hand. You are so dazed that you don’t even notice he has pulled out his dick until you feel something big pressing against your entrance, making you look down and your eyes widen as you do so.

You’re about to open your mouth to say something, what, you do not know, but all of a sudden Sukuna pushes his dick into you until his hips are flushed against yours. It feels like you're being split in two, and the way his tip smushes against your cervix makes you unable to find your breath. The unfamiliar feeling has you squirming and clenching around his cock; body desperately trying to push out the foreign intrusion.  

“Shit you gotta loosen up doll, cant fuck you like this.” There were veins popping on his temple as he started to rub tight circles on your clit. Bolts of pleasure shoot up your body, and you desperately try to relax your body.

“Atta girl” He coos, withdrawing his hips before slamming into your.

The first thrust completely knocks the wind out of you. The collision with your gspot has you arching your back of the couch; eyes screwed shut and letting out a loud moan. He's girth spread you so well, so much, and the friction was so delicious, tears blotted your eyesight. Your skin is buzzing, and your entire lower half is shaking from the pleasure. Sukuna's pace is brutal, unforgiving, and he has to grab the arm rest above you with one arm to help his brutal and unforgiving pace into you.

Your mind grows hazy, lost in the sensation of how good he was fucking you, but then, without explanation, a spark of defiance ignites within you. Suddenly, you find the strength to flip him over, his dick not leaving the warmth of your cunt once and so you were effectively laying on top of him, your legs on either side of his body. With your chest flushed against his, and your ass perked up in the air, you begin to fuck yourself on his dick, raising your hips up and down his length as if he was a dildo.

"Oh thats it." Sukuna is not a whining man but here he is, his voice cracking from the feeling and sight of you riding him. "Fuck yourself on me shit shit shit."

You are practically drooling on his chest, your eyes rolling back from how good he felt against your G spot.

You let a whine when you feel yourself start to get tired so Sukuna grabs your hips and starts fucking you on his length.

Fap.Fap.Fap

"Gonna cum in you baby ok?" He murmurs into your ear and you dazedly nod.

Suddenly you feel your stomach dip and your mind go blank. Your mind feels as though it’s been dipped in pure euphoria, thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind, replaced by an overwhelming wave of bliss that drowns out everything else. Your body responds in kind, muscles tensing and releasing in perfect harmony with the pleasure coursing through you. It’s as if every cell is vibrating with delight, your skin tingling with a heightened sensitivity that makes even the slightest touch feel like a divine caress. The heat of the sensation is intoxicating, making your limbs feel weightless as if you’re floating on a cloud of pure, unadulterated joy.

Sukuna is quick to follow, shooting ropes of thick cum that glide down his shaft onto his balls.

"See? We are practically made for each other."

[euthymiya]

content includes: female reader, drunk reader + mentions of alcohol, modern + non curse au sukuna, established relationship, unnamed friends, reader makes one (1) dick sucking joke, reader dips fries into shakes because she’s elite like that, he carries reader

It’s half past midnight when he comes to pick you up. Your face sours as soon as you see him, taking an instinctive step back.

“Nuh uh,” you say, wagging a finger back and forth in his face as he scowls. “It’s girl’s night. No men allowed—we’ve been over this!”

“As if I wanna join your stupid girl’s night,” he scoffs. Sukuna is tired. (Of you). It’s too late at night to be worrying about what ditch you’re going to end yourself up in after lord knows how many drinks, so regrettably, he takes matters into his own hands.

It’s a good thing he does, too, he thinks with a flare of his nostril as he eyes the drunk, mess of a woman that’s supposed to be your ride home. Designated driver my ass, he all but grumbles under his breath.

“Hey—” he looks over to the side with an irritated flick of his eyes as a hand smacks his shoulder. Your friend (in not better condition than you) levels him with a snarky look before she hisses, “You heard her! It’s girl’s night. Go away.”

Sukuna ignores her—because, well, that’s what he always does anyway. She talks far too much to be considered a normal amount, and he doesn’t like the shrill sound of her voice. Instead, he turns to you, gives you a firm, scolding look before he grunts, “We are going home. Now.”

You seem to catch onto the stern tone of his voice because within seconds, you’re slumping against him as you whine, “Fine,” with a pout. “Mean.”

“Yeah?” He snorts, “You know what’s meaner? Nasty men who find girls passed out in the middle of the streets. Now let’s go. We’re going home—all of you.”

A chorus of whines and petty insults makes him want to grab a drink himself—being inebriated seems like the only way your friends are tolerable, but as annoying as they are, he refuses to leave them here wasted.

So he does the noble thing, and sacrifices his ear drums as they play whatever stupid pop song is trending on the radio at full volume down the streets, heads sticking out of the windows and screaming the lyrics out to innocent passerby’s.

Sukuna is just a guy. Not the best, most chivalrous or charitable guy, maybe—but just a guy, all the same. He’s not done anything wrong to deserve this torture. He’s been nothing but a kind (usually) boyfriend that loves you unconditionally (most of the time), supports you wholeheartedly (when it suits him), listens to your problems (if he’s in the mood), and makes you feel special (as long as it doesn’t inconvenience him).

Still, he’s stuck basically being an uber driver—for free, no less—to your ungrateful, bratty, obnoxious friends that aren’t pretty enough to enjoy your company in the first place. They don’t even thank him when they get out as he drops them off one by one to their homes, opting to say goodbye to you as if you’re the one who pays for the gas in his car.

Finally, the last of your friends (who he likes to consider nuisances) leaves, freeing him of anymore radio pop songs and unnaturally loud giggles.

He grumbles as you ask, “Can we get milkshakes?”

“No.”

“Please?” You whine, “I want strawberry.”

“That’s great,” he says sarcastically, “The answer’s still no.”

“Please, please, please, Kuna? I’ll suck your dick on the drive there—”

“Jesus, what’s the matter with you?” He hisses, fighting back flushed cheeks as he glares at you once the car rolls to a stop at a red light.

Usually, he’s the one making such lewd comments and getting under your skin—but lacking in sobriety is seriously forcing the two of you to switch roles. He’s starting to wonder if maybe he should be nicer to you—you deal with a lot. (Not that he’s mean. He considers himself a pretty generous boyfriend).

“I’ll even pay,” you offer.

“You didn’t bring a wallet, so it looks like I’ll have to pay,” he says blandly.

You grin, giving him an innocent smile as you excitedly ask, “So that’s a yes?”

“Are you going to be quiet if I say yes?” He clicks his teeth in thinly-veiled irritation.

You grin, nodding enthusiastically.

Well, he thinks bitterly, so much for no more pit stops.

It’s not long until he’s pulling into the drive-thru of the nearest fast food joint, rolling his window down to order your stupid, late night request.

“We’ll take one strawberry milkshake, please,” he says gruffly.

“Anything else?” Comes the tired reply of whoever is taking his order.

“No—”

“And large fries, please!” You lean over him to shout out the window and make sure the poor worker hears you. Sukuna glares, (gently) pushing you back into your seat as he hisses, “Put your seatbelt on! And you asked for a milkshake, not a damn meal.”

“Fries aren’t a meal,” you huff, “And they’re good dipped in the shake. You can’t have one without the other.”

“No—”

“I’ll scream that I’m being kidnapped,” you warn, “I want my fries.”

“Fucking fine,” he throws his hands up, exasperatedly caving to your request because, yeah, having some drunk, half-conscious woman in his front seat screaming bloody murder about being abducted at two a.m. is not a good look to a stranger that doesn’t know any better. “One strawberry milkshake and large fucking fries and that’s it,” he growls to the other person through the drive-thru speaker.

It’s not the poor employee’s fault, and he knows it, but he’s too tired and sleep-deprived to care about his snarky attitude.

“It’ll be ready at the window,” the man speaks tiredly, completely unphased.

“Yay!” You squeal.

It’s a pretty bothersome task to have to stop the car five minutes after receiving the food just to open the lid of your cup for you so that you can dip your fries into your milkshake easier, but he figures it’s better than a tiring drive home. Or worse, a spill all over his car seats at your own attempt.

He glances over at you wearily as he finally (hopefully) starts to drive home, watching as you dip your french fries into your frozen drink and happily eat away. He crinkles his eyes at the combination.

He’ll never understand people’s unnatural obsession with pairing anything remotely salty and sweet together.

“My friends think you’re weird,” you hum, taking a handful of fries to your mouth as you say between chewing, “They say you’re intense. Like, scary intense. But I told them, that’s just his face.”

Finally, a small smile cracks on his face, breaking through the grumpy, tired exterior. He snorts, shaking his head. “Drunk you has way too much to say.”

“Drunk me is honest,” you retort, clutching your fries to your chest as you huff, “Now I’m not sharing my fries anymore.”

“You weren’t going to anyway,” he rolls his eyes.

Finally, his car pulls into a familiar parking spot, just outside of your shared home as he parks and turns to you. You giggle at him before humming, “How’d you know?”

“Because you never do,” he rolls his eyes.

“That’s because this relationship is 50/50! You buy the food, and I eat it.”

“Yeah?” He snorts, shaking his head—still, there’s something endearing about the way you clutch your fries close to your chest, as if guarding them with your life. He leans over, snatching one easily anyway, smirking in amusement when you gasp and pout at the gesture.

“Hey! That’s mine!”

“Yeah, whatever,” he grunts, fighting back a fond grin before he asks, “Let’s go. We’re going in.”

With that, he comes around to your side of the car, pulling you out and hoisting you up to carry you bridal style as he marches over to the front door. Sighing happily, you admire his face as he walks.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

He raises a brow, mildly shocked. “For?”

“For bringing me home. Same time next week?”

He chuckles, pressing a soft, affectionate kiss to your forehead. “Absolutely not. No more girl’s nights with those shit shows.”

[crushmeeren]

just imagine taunting touya or katsuki while having sex… asking if he can handle you… telling him he can’t make you cum

i am losing my mind 😭 i love ur works!

friend, this is…. diabolical. I LOVE IT. [and thank you.] /ᐠ. .ᐟ\ฅ

༝ ᭝ ༝ brief warning for some degradation used by touya. ༝ ᭝ ༝

master list link. ༝ ᭝ ༝ @pixelcafe-network

༝ ᭝ ༝ katsuki ༝ ᭝ ༝

This is something I can see very clearly happening when you first start having sex with Katsuki.

It’s the third or fourth time. The burn in your thighs worsens the longer you bounce on Katsuki’s cock, and sweat beads in the valley between your tits, trailing down your sternum.

Surprisingly enough, it didn’t become like pulling teeth to convince him to hand over the reigns.

Now, you brace your hands on his firm, flushed chest, supporting your weight, and roll your hips back and forth in his lap. The tip of his cock is pressed firm against your g-spot, and you’re rewarded with hot sparks of pleasure bursting in your pelvis with each slow circle of your hips.

Katsuki’s fingers dig desperately into your waist, nails pinching your skin, and his breath catches when your pussy squeezes him. His lids flutter, a low moan spills from his lips.

You slow your hips, just to tease, and study the open and fucked out expression on his face. Then you grin.

“You sure you can handle me Katsuki?” You taunt, a sweet heat curling up your spine when you push your hips back even harder.

Katsuki scowls, the pink blush on his cheeks turning scarlet. “Fuck you. I can handle you just fine.” He jerks his hips upwards to emphasize his point, cock sinking in even further.

Your small, delighted gasp dances in the air, pussy clenching on its own accord. “Pretty sure I’m fucking you. You already look like you’re about to cum. What, a big bad hero like you not gonna be able to make me cum this time?” With a smug smile you lean in close, nails biting into his pecs as you whisper. “I thought you were supposed to be number one at everything, Dynamight.”

Katsuki’s eyebrow twitches, jaw clenching tight as he grinds his teeth to dust.

“You think I can’t make that fuckin’ pussy cum, princess?” He grabs a handful of your ass and squeezes too hard, lip tugging into a sneer. Your pulse thunders from the sharp sting, the heat in your belly rising a few notches. “You’re gonna scream my name. Better yet, I’ll make you cry out for “Dynamight”, but he won’t save you.” A wolfish grin curls the corners of his mouth.

Your lips part in surprise as he shoves you off his lap, soft blankets cushioning your fall. He manhandles you like a rag doll onto your belly, yanking your hips into the air, looming over your back to shove your face into the sheets with hand to the base of your skull.

“Katsuki!” Your cry gets muffled by the sheets, a calloused palm raining down on your ass so harshly you’re certain his handprint will remain as evidence. He laughs meanly, readjusts his hips, and pushes the slick tip of his cock to your pussy.

He clicks his tongue behind his teeth in disapproval. “That’s not the right name, princess.” His voice is strains as he slides back inside you, bottoming out with a harsh smack of his hips against your ass. He plants one hand by your head and tangles his fingers through your hair with the other, yanking your head off the mattress. “Go on, cry out for Dynamight,” he murmurs in your ear, warm breath tickling your skin.

Katsuki draws his hips back, cock slipping out halfway, then snaps them forward to fill you back up.

“Dynamight!” You wail, your next breath becoming a choked off gasp.

His chest rumbles with a moan. “That’s what I was lookin’ for, such a good girl.”

By the end of it, you’re a jelly limbed pile of mush in his bed, voice scratchy from overuse. You’re never going to let him live down the fact that’s it’s so damn easy to get under his skin.

༝ ᭝ ༝ touya ༝ ᭝ ༝

Pushing your boyfriend to his limit usually results in being burned.

It’s not a secret that Touya is terrible at keeping his cool, hotheaded temper rising to the surface whenever you take it a step too far. But, to you, the ends justify the means. Especially when it comes to sex.

“Hell yes, fuck yourself back on my cock just like that baby. So goddamn hot,” Touya says through his teeth, one scarred hand resting on your tailbone to guide your movement. Your fingers fist the pillow supporting your head, cheeks blistering with heat as you work his cock in and out of your pussy. The hot, slick friction is amazing, but not enough.

You pant softly, frustration welling in your belly. “Yeah? It’d be even hotter if you put in any effort to make me cum,” you bite back. Touya stiffens behind you, fingers gripping your hips with intent to bruise. He yanks you backwards, forcing a yelp out of you when the tip of his cock shoves up against your cervix. You squirm with discomfort, unable to move an inch.

“The fuck did you just say?” There’s a warning in his tone that prickles at the nape of your neck.

You brush it off, continuing to dig your own grave. “You heard me.” You glare at him over your shoulder before turning back. “Seems like you can’t handle me.” You rest your flushed cheek on the cool fabric of your pillow.

For a second, you’re certain you’ve stunned him. Then, the skin on your hips starts to sizzle under his palms. It’s bright and searing, stealing your breath for a moment, and then you’re forced to roll onto your back.

Touya bullies his cock back inside you without another word, hand molding along the bottom of your jaw to keep your mouth shut. The look in his eyes is wild, a cruel grin on his lips when he leans in close until a centimeter is all that separates you. Your heart jumps to your throat, kickstarting a rush of adrenaline.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are talking to me like that, sweetheart. But you’re lucky as hell I want to be inside your tight little pussy so badly.” Touya starts to rock his hips. “Otherwise I’d leave you alone and go jerk myself off.”

Your eyes dart across Touya’s face, his blue eyes bright with mania. A sick sense of satisfaction curls in your chest as you manage to keep yourself from smiling. He’s playing right into your hands, just like every other time.

Touya releases your jaw, hooking his hands under the backs of your knees and pushes until they sink into the mattress, folding you like a blanket. The angle makes it feel like his cock’s inside your stomach and you gasp, clutching at scarred wrists.

“Right there Touya, please!” Your back arches with your words, Touya rewarding you with a heavy thrust. He rolls his eyes, but he bends to your whim and picks up his pace. He smirks like he’s the one in control, lids lowering as his gaze stays glued to where he disappears inside you.

“My little whore,” he coos. “You’re not gettin’ any relief until you fuckin’ squirt for me, do you understand?” There’s no room for argument in his voice, and you nod, goosebumps littering your arms.

You’ll taunt him again and again and fucking again, if only to drive him up the wall and provoke him into rearranging your guts.

[ivy-elle]

How they tend to you after getting injured

Feat. Albedo, Childe, Kinich, Scaramouche

A/N: Slightly suggestive in Childe's part, more so in Scaramouche's

“Move it a bit for me?”

You couldn’t help but grimace a little at that prospect. “I’d rather not.”

That promptly earns you a disapproving look from the alchemist. Which is quite an unusual sight for him, you think. He must be really concerned then.

“Slowly.” A soft musing laced in his voice as his fingers gently wrap around your wrist to move your hand at a slow pace.

You hiss quietly at the sharp pain. “It’s not broken,” you state, trying to convince yourself more than actually being sure of that.

“No,” Albedo attests, touching up your wrist, careful not to hurt you further, “it’s fortunately not. Yet, your wrist is in a less-than-ideal state.”

You raise your eyebrow and reply in a flat tone, “Really.”

Albedo’s eyes meet yours, unaltered. “Positive.”

Then his brows furrow as his gaze falls on something next to you on the table. He reaches for the bottle of painkillers you took earlier, inspecting them with concerned incredulity. “My love, I hope you didn’t expect to cure a sprained bone with these pills alone?”

 “Well…I mean, maybe?” you fumble with your words. “They’re good.”

Albedo can’t help the sigh leaving his lips as he shakes his head and grabs the pack of bandages, he prepared. “I will bring along some more profound remedy later if that’s alright with you.”

Carefully, he starts wrapping a string of bandages around your hand, making sure it sits steady and firm but not enough to be painful.

“Does that feel comfortable enough?” He shifts his eyes back to yours, observing closely for any indication of pain on your face.

Somehow his soft-spoken words seem to soothe the pain on their own Your heart tightens along with the last string of bandages as he seems to be so utterly tender and gentle with you.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Thank you. I’m sorry, for the fright earlier.”

“Nonsense.” Albedo gently lifts up your now bandaged hand and presses a feather-light kiss against the cloth. “I’m glad I could help.”

“You’re slacking more than usual. Where’s your fire today?”

The sounds of clashing swords against each other halt for a moment when Childe stems his sword into the earth beneath. He tilts his head as his arms sneak under to support his chin against the grip of his sword. A boyish grin on his lips as wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Long night?”

You huff, mirroring his position. “Shut up, you shithead.” He knows damn well who’s to blame for your lack of sleep recently.

But Childe only snickers, like that smug ass he is, giving you a once-over. “Oho, we have a sore loser here I see.”

“You just want me to pay for the dinner tonight.”

“Precisely.” His smirk widens. “There is an evening waiting for you full of relaxation, notorious meals and of course the best company Liyue has to offer.” Childe takes a few steps back, widening his arms out in a dramatic manner. “Me.”

“See, I’d actually beg to defy that statement,” you start as you put your sword away. But when you look back up, the single head movement causes a sudden spur, your vision adorned by black dots for a moment. “Damn,” you huff, holding onto a tree for some support.

“Woah, there.” Within a second Childe is at your side, his hand reaches out, holding you in place. “You okay?” His tone has shifted into a more serious one.

You blink and your vision clears one more. A sort of sheepish, perhaps slightly embarrassed grin settles on your lips as you meet his eyes. “Yeah. That treasure hoarder must’ve gotten me a bit harder than I’ve assumed.”

But Childe doesn’t join in on your amusement and frowns instead. “What treasure hoarder? On your way to Liyue earlier?”

Exasperated, you run a hand through your hair as you get reminded of the events earlier that day. “Unfortunately.” An annoyed scoff escapes you. “Please, it was embarrassing enough as it is. Don’t make me live through that again.”

Childe’s eyes slightly darken and he’s quiet for a moment. Contemplating. As if settling on some plan. Then from one moment to the other, his expression immediately clears up again and he ruffles your hair in an affectionate way. “I suggest, we let the food deliver to us instead and you’re gonna tell me exactly what happened, hm?”

Disgruntled, you push his hand from your head. “Childe, it’s-“

“Ah-ah, no. Concussions should be treated seriously. Off you go now.” He shoos you forward gently, but now his arm is draped around your waist, just to make sure you’ll stay on your feet. “Come now.”

“You’re walking funny.”

Confused, you turn your head back around to where Kinich is walking behind you, raising your eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Kinich’s eyes are focused on your feet, analysing. “Did you sprain your ankle?”

“No,” you turn back ahead, “it’s not that bad.”

His fingers take hold of your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “May I see?”

You frown. “My foot?”

“Your ankle,” he corrects, his face unchanged.

“Right now?”

“Yes.” It’s obvious he isn’t up for any kind of discussion.

You look around the jungle you’re passing through. Quite the inconvenient setting.

“Kinich, I swear it’s-“

“Please.”

You nearly crumble. Both at his touch as well as the tender look in his eyes. So you relent with a sigh. “Alright, just-, “You look around for something to sit down. “Let’s get somewhere closed off, yeah?”

One settled on a nearby rock, Kinich crouches down in front of you, one hand on your calf the other on your knee. He sure seems like he’s done this a couple of times before. Well, in his line of work…

“Can you bend it?” Kinich asks then. Some strands of his hair fall into his face and you’re tempted to reach out and gently brush them away.

You blink. Focus.

“Sure. Well, I think I’d rather not bend it though.”

He hums, contemplative. “I’d rather you not as well.” After carefully checking up upon your skin and bones he looks up again to meet your eyes, a bit of a stern look on his face. More so than usual. “You realise this is swollen, right? Surely you must feel that?”

“Mayhaps,” you admit more hesitantly than he’d like.

Kinich frowns, sighs and then stands up. “Come on. I carry you. It’s not far off anymore, anyway.”

At that suggestion, your heart skips a beat. “No way.”

He crosses his arms. Then one eyebrow rises. “You think I’d dare to drop you?”

“I have dignity.” You explain and prop up your elbows as you lean back against the rock before you add, “And pride.”

“There won’t be much left of your pride if you continue to walk that way in the open.” He takes a few steps back with a glint in his eyes. “I’d put that into careful consideration as well if I were you.”

You squeeze your eyes at him. “You’re playing dirty.”

Kinich lips curve into a smile. Then he adjusts with ease and lifts you up into his arms. “And yet I win.”

You are in heaven. You could swear it.

It has been weeks now, where missions, the fatui or simple life have kept you away from each other, getting barely any time to spend.

And while Scaramouche might not outwardly admit that he’s missed you (or your touch), it is now quite evident in the way his lips adorn your skin, his fingers trailing along your body like he has to physically assure himself, you’re right here. Right beneath his very hands.

His hand slides down your midriff and his fingers grace the skin beneath your shirt, causing goosebumps to spread there. “Your fingers are cold,” you murmur dazedly between kisses, yet a slight amusement has found its way into your voice.

Scaramouche simply captures your complaint with his lips, a slight tug on his mouth. “Don’t tell me we have a temperature problem on our hands?”

“Not for long I hope,” you reply with a teasing grin and return the kiss again with more fervour. He obliges immediately.

But just as he’s about to slip your shirt over your head he pauses. You bite your lip to stop a few less-than-dignifying words from leaving your mouth and open your eyes instead. “What’s wrong? Too cold after all?”

Scaramouche’s hand tethers your waits as his gaze is locked on someplace on your ribs, the reverence from moments ago completely vanished. Now there’s a grim expression as his eyes dart down to you. “What happened here?”

You follow his line of sight where sure enough, the gash from one of your fights greets you. One, that you have perhaps pushed back farther into the depths of your mind for the sake of the moment.

“It’s nothing bad,” you explain. You feel somehow caught, trying to overplay the situation by mumbling on. “Seriously, just a stupid cut from days ago.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” There’s an agitated tension in the room now as Scaramouche’s annoyance level rises and his expression darkens. “I know for a fact this hasn’t been here for a few days already. It’s fresh. And you’re aggravating it further.”

That prompts you to prop your elbows on the bed, frowning. “It’s not bleeding, it barely even hurts. It is fine. Absolutely. Can we just…?”

His eyes narrow at your words, jaw clenching. “Perhaps you’re the stupid one then.” He clicks his tongue in irritation and gets up from the bed, muttering some disgruntled curses.

Slowly, you sit up on the bed and pull your shirt back down to cover your midriff again. You watch him roaming around the room, gathering some utensils from the shelf at his side of the bed before he returns to sit beside you. Scaramouche doesn’t look at you. In unbent silence, he pushes you back down on the sheets to give him a better angle to the wound on your side. You swallow a grunt at the sharp pain and his grip on your waist tightens for a moment.

You observe him quietly as he works, eyebrows scrunched with his anger simmering just beneath the surface. Obviously, you’re aware that his irritation stems from the desire to keep you safe, from his protective nature, and his destined grief of you one day inevitably slipping through his fingers.

“Scara-“

“Shut up. I’m done already.”

His gaze meets yours once again and for a few silent moments, you just stare at each other, with unspoken emotions swirling around on both of your faces.

Then he suddenly scoffs and puts the utensils away. As if trying to shake off his sense of irritation. “Who risks their health in such a way just to get laid?”

You can’t help the grin spreading on your lips. “Hey, at least that’ll leave a sick scar.”

“I’m gonna murder you, y/n. I’m serious.”

He isn’t.

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