#WHERE ARE THE PEOPLE WILLING TO PUT DOWN THEIR PHONES | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

youthguk · 3 months ago

Text

Entropy | jjk (m) | one-shot

College AU | Fuckboy Jungkook x Physics Student Y/N

“The universe tends toward chaos.” You thought that only applied to black holes and entropy equations — not boys with lip rings and midnight eyes. You were wrong.

genre: smut, one-shot, college AU, fuckboy!jungkook, explicit sexual content, strong language, alcohol consumption, casual hookup, reader is sexually inexperienced but very willing, Jungkook is fully feral and obsessed

Wc: 10k

author's note: your feedback means the world to me. 🖤

The second law of thermodynamics states that the universe naturally tends toward disorder. That every system, left to its own devices, will eventually fall apart.

You never thought it would apply to people, but by the third week of finals season, everything begins to decay.

Not in any spectacular, cinematic way—no dramatic breakdowns in the hallway or rain-soaked monologues—but in smaller, quieter disintegrations. You begin to lose the will to care whether your iced coffee is more milk than caffeine. Your drawers become a graveyard of crumpled hoodies and socks that don’t match. Your planner, once color-coded with obsessive devotion, now lies somewhere under your bed, abandoned and blank.

Entropy, you think. The tendency of systems to slide into disorder. You remember the diagram from second-year thermodynamics: the universe’s cruel, inevitable drift toward chaos. You’d once found peace in it. A kind of comfort, knowing it wasn’t your fault when things fell apart. It was just nature.

These days, you’re not so sure. You stand in front of the mirror in your dorm’s bathroom, toothbrush hanging from the corner of your mouth, hair piled into a loose, too-honest bun that makes your ears look uneven. You’ve been wearing the same oversized MIT hoodie for three days straight. Not because it means anything to you—you didn’t even apply there—but because it smells like clean laundry and covers the fact that your bra is somewhere inside a laundry basket you no longer have the energy to dig through.

You look exhausted. Not dramatically so, but in the way that makes people hesitate before asking you for anything. You’ve started getting that look in the lab, in lectures, even from your professors: the quiet, pitying glance that says, You’re doing too much, and it’s starting to show. And still, you keep doing it.

Physics doesn’t reward soft emotions. It rewards answers. You know how to calculate momentum, how to model projectile motion, how to explain wave-particle duality to a room full of distracted undergrads—but you don’t know how to mourn something that was never truly yours. You don’t know how to feel cleanly. You only know how to function.

You open the bathroom cabinet, close it again, stare blankly at your own reflection. Your eyes are ringed in fatigue. Your lips are chapped. Your last kiss was over a month ago and didn’t even taste like goodbye.

You don’t miss him. Not really. He was nice. Predictable. Gentle. He always held your hand like he was asking permission. But the moment he ended it—voice calm, like he was discussing his meal plan—you didn’t feel heartbreak. You felt relief.

And maybe that’s worse. Your phone buzzes on the sink. You glance down and see Hyeri’s name.

Hyeri: *I swear to god if you ghost me I’m breaking into your room.*Hyeri: *Put on a dress. He’s throwing a party.*You: *Who.*Hyeri: *Jeon fucking Jungkook.*You: No thanks.

Your thumb hovers over the keyboard.

There it is—that name again. A name that lives in the background of your life like ambient noise. Jeon Jungkook: a boy you’ve never actually spoken to, but whose existence seems to follow you in ways you can’t explain. Shared classes. Group projects. Dorm parties where he arrived shirtless and left with a girl on his arm. Mutual friends who describe him with exasperated fondness. A smirk that belongs on someone far less academically average.

You’ve never had a reason to care about him. Not really. Except for that one night at the start of second year, when you sat across from him at a friend-of-a-friend’s birthday and watched him lick whipped cream off his thumb while explaining something about SEO strategy. You’d gone home that night and googled what the hell SEO actually was.

You’d forgotten about him after that. Or tried to.

Until your best friend started playing matchmaker in group chats you weren’t in. Until the campus gossip pages kept posting blurry photos of his arms. Until his name started appearing in conversations he wasn’t even part of, and every girl said the same thing:

Jeon Jungkook fucks like it’s a contact sport.

For a brief moment, you let yourself imagine what it would feel like to be tackled by him, but quickly buried that thought beneath a mountain of coursework, equations, and meticulously organized lab notes - all those neat, contained systems that made sense.

Hyeri: Come. Please. One drink. One dance. You’re not allowed to rot in that hoodie forever.

Chewing your lip, you glance from the worn hoodie to your reflection, then finally to the door. Maybe this isn't about Jungkook, or even your ex - maybe it's simply time to feel something real before summer consumes what's left of you. With a quiet sigh, you make your decision.

You: Fine. But if it’s weird, I’m faking a panic attack and leaving.

✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.✧.

You don’t know when the universe started to unravel.Maybe it was the breakup. Maybe it was that lab partner who kept messing up your simulations. Maybe it was all the times you sat through lectures with tears threatening at the corners of your eyes and no one noticing, not even once. But tonight, it feels like something bigger. Like the universe itself has decided to press its thumb against your spine and push.

Entropy unfolds around you like a slow dance. The universe's natural descent into disorder feels inevitable tonight as you stand before the mirror, half-heartedly curling your lashes. Mascara won't fix the exhaustion in your eyes, won't erase the weeks you've spent hiding from your reflection. You barely recognize the person staring back at you anymore.

Hyeri’s outside your door, already half-drunk, yelling through the crack like she owns the world. “If you’re not out in five minutes, I’m breaking in and dressing you myself!”

You shout back a profanity, then drop your towel and step into the dress she brought you. It wasn’t made for physics students. That much is clear. It’s navy satin, too short to be safe and too tight to be responsible. The neckline dips like a threat, the fabric clings like it knows something you don’t. You smooth it down your sides, catching your reflection by accident — and then not looking away.

Your hair’s still wet from the world’s fastest shower. You didn’t bother with foundation. Just a bit of liner, a swipe of something sheer on your lips. You look like someone you don’t quite know. Someone who might dance. Someone who might say yes to something reckless. The zipper sticks halfway up your back, and when you reach to fix it, a strand of hair slips free and falls across your face. You look messy. Unpolished. A little chaotic.

A laugh escapes your lips as you realize that in your disheveled state, you've finally aligned with the universe's natural tendency toward chaos.

There’s a knock at the door. “I swear to god, Y/N—”

You open it before she can finish, and Hyeri shuts up mid-rant.

“Holy shit,” she breathes.

You grab your bag. “Don’t say anything.”

“Okay,” she says, eyes wide, “but if Jungkook doesn’t try to kiss you tonight, I’m checking him for a concussion.”

You roll your eyes, but your stomach flutters with a newfound awareness - the whisper of satin against skin, the cool night air dancing across your thighs.

Following Hyeri through the dimly lit stairwell and into the waiting Uber, you can't help but notice how different the city feels tonight. Summer lingers in the air, heavy with possibility, as if the universe itself is contemplating what kind of chaos to unleash. For once, you're ready to embrace whatever comes.

✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.✧.

You smell the party before you hear it. It’s not unpleasant — not the kind of sour, suffocating stink of undergrad dorm parties you’ve long since grown out of. No, this one smells like summer. Like too-sweet alcohol and chlorine and night air that clings to bare shoulders. There’s music, loud enough to rattle the pavement beneath your heels, bass bleeding through windows too big to hide the chaos inside.

Jungkook’s house is exactly what you’d expect from a rich boy with too many friends and too little restraint. Modern, massive, perched on a hill just far enough from campus to feel forbidden. The front door’s already wide open. People flow in and out like blood through a vein. Someone’s laughing on the porch. Someone else is making out against the railing. You pause before going in.

Hyeri’s already halfway up the steps, turning back when she notices you hesitate. “Don’t look like you’re here to study. Shoulders back. Chin up. You look hot as hell.”

You follow her inside. The temperature rises immediately. The music hits your chest in waves, something fast and rhythmic that people pretend they know the words to. There’s a sheen of sweat on everyone’s skin, cups half-empty and already sticky with fingerprints. Lights pulse in warm golds and deep reds, designed to make everyone look better than they are.

You keep your eyes low at first, weaving through bodies, careful not to bump into anyone. You’re not used to being seen. Not like this. Not in something this tight, this short. You feel the way the fabric pulls across your hips, how it shifts with each step. You’re suddenly aware of the line of your thighs, the exposed stretch of your back.

The weight of someone's stare draws your attention upward, and there he stands: Jeon Jungkook, watching you with deliberate intensity.

Slouched on the arm of an expensive couch, drink in one hand, tattooed fingers curled around plastic like they’ve never had to hold anything heavier. He’s wearing a black button-up — open halfway down his chest, sleeves rolled to his elbows — and a pair of dark jeans that might as well be a crime. His lip ring catches the light when he smirks at something one of his friends says, and his head tilts just slightly — because he’s looking at you.

You almost miss it, the way the smirk dies and reforms into something slower. Sharper. His gaze lingers, dips — not in a crude, hungry way, but in a way that makes you feel scanned. Like he’s logging every inch of skin, every tilt of your body, every second you hold eye contact.

His expression remains neutral as his gaze lingers, drinking in every detail of your presence. The intensity of his stare follows you across the room as Hyeri pulls you toward the kitchen, chattering about shots and mixers while reminding you to "hydrate between drinks, you nerd." Even through the press of bodies and pulsing music, you can feel the weight of his attention like a physical touch.

The kitchen is a chaotic display of solo cups and liquor bottles, with fruit swimming in something that promises tomorrow's regret. You grab a drink more for something to occupy your hands than anything else, the cold plastic a flimsy shield as cherry and vodka touch your lips.

When Hyeri tugs at your hand with an excited "Come dance!", you pause. The familiar heat of his gaze draws your attention back across the room. He's standing now, drink still in hand, and when your eyes meet, his lips curve into a smile that's neither cocky nor practiced. It's something more dangerous - slow, curious, possessive - as if he's already seen how this night ends. As if the universe itself has chosen its preferred form of chaos.

✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.✧.

You lose Hyeri somewhere between the kitchen and the music.

She disappears into the haze of bodies with the kind of confidence you’ve never been able to fake—throwing her arms around someone you don’t recognize, laughing too loudly, swaying like she’s part of the beat itself. The living room’s been cleared just enough to form a makeshift dance floor, though calling it that feels generous. It’s a swarm. Sweaty, uncoordinated, pulsing with bass and alcohol.

You hover at the edge for a moment, half-expecting yourself to turn back. But your feet don’t move. You feel warm. Lightheaded. A little less real with every second. And you know, before you even look again, that he’s still there.

He doesn’t approach like he’s chasing something. He approaches like he’s already caught it.

You feel him before you see him—something magnetic pulling at the corner of your awareness. Then you turn your head, and he’s suddenly beside you, crowding your space without brushing you once. His shirt clings to the lines of his chest. His breath smells faintly of whiskey and mint.

“Didn’t know physics majors danced,” he murmurs, not loud but close enough that the words slide against your neck.

You don’t flinch. “Didn’t know business majors could form full sentences.”

That earns a laugh. Low. A little sharp. He doesn’t look away. The song shifts, something slower, bass-heavy, almost liquid in the way it pours over the crowd. His hand doesn’t touch you—not yet—but you feel his presence pressing in, daring you to move first.

“You wanna?” he asks, a single word softened by the tilt of his mouth. It’s not polite. Not romantic. But his tone says he already knows the answer.

You shouldn't dance with him, but nothing about tonight has followed any semblance of reason. When you nod, he steps behind you, eliminating all space between your bodies. His hands find your hips with casual precision, thumbs brushing the exposed skin between your dress and thighs - not quite inappropriate, but enough to make your breath catch and spine straighten.

You let the music guide your movements, following pure instinct rather than practiced steps. The weight of his hands sets your rhythm, his grip subtle yet firm as heat radiates from his chest against your back. He stays silent, letting his touch speak volumes - possessive, intentional, marking.

When his lips graze your ear, he murmurs, "You're not what I expected."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Your voice emerges unfamiliar - soft, low, wrapped in heat.

“I don’t know,” he says. “You just… move like you’ve been pretending not to want this.”

You lean back—not into him, not quite. Just enough to let your head fall against his shoulder, enough for your cheek to brush the edge of his jaw.

“Maybe I have,” you whisper.

That makes him exhale through his nose, a near-silent sound of disbelief.One of his hands slides lower, fingers dragging down the side of your thigh through your dress, subtle under the colored lights. You don’t stop him. Don’t even flinch. You’re past that now—past logic, past caution. You gave up control the second you walked through the door. Your hips roll against his, slow, testing. He curses under his breath.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he mutters.

You smile, dizzy with the rush of power you didn’t know you had. “Good.”

The beat slows again. He doesn’t move. Neither do you. You're suspended there, in the strobe-flecked dark, wrapped in the tension of something neither of you is ready to name. You can feel the way his body hardens against yours. The restraint in the way he keeps his hands from wandering farther. The storm gathering behind his eyes.

And then someone spills a drink, somewhere close, and the moment fractures just enough for you to step away.

You walk toward the back door without a word. Toward the warm night air, toward the sound of water, toward the next inevitable collapse in this universe gone fully to chaos.

Behind you, Jungkook follows.

The patio is cooler, but it doesn’t help. Not really.

You step out into the night air with your plastic cup still clutched in your hand, the condensation sliding between your fingers. The hem of your dress clings to the backs of your thighs, slick with sweat and static, and your pulse hasn’t slowed since the dance floor. You try to blame it on the alcohol. On the heat. On the music still throbbing behind you.

Not on him. You don’t dare glance behind you. You don’t have to. You already know he’s there. The pool glows in blue and gold, lights flickering beneath the surface like someone bottled the stars and poured them into water. A few people are floating lazily, limbs draped over inflatable chairs, laughter drifting up like smoke. The jacuzzi hums beside it, steam rising from its surface, soft and almost cinematic. Someone’s speaker plays a slower song now—trance-like, sensual, too low to sing along to.

And there he is again. He emerges from the shadows like the night belongs to him. Still shirtless, only now his skin shines with a sheen of sweat. His boxers ride low on his hips, exposing just enough to make your mouth dry. His chest is cut, stomach taut, tattoos black against golden skin. A towel slung over one shoulder. That stupid, crooked grin.

“You look hot,” he says. His tone is casual, but his eyes aren’t. They’re scanning every inch of you, unhurried. “You should cool off.”

You take a slow sip from your drink. “What, in there?”

He nods toward the jacuzzi. “It’s basically mandatory.”

You raise a brow. “I don’t have a swimsuit.”

Neither does he, clearly. He steps closer anyway. “Neither do I.”

Before you can respond, Hyeri appears beside you with a shriek, nearly stumbling as she tugs off her dress in one motion. Her red bra and matching lace panties flash under the porch lights like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Come onnnn,” she whines, laughing, already halfway into the water. “It’s just underwear! No one cares!”

“I care,” you mutter, gripping the hem of your dress like it’s the last thing tethering you to reality.

“Then stop being so uptight,” she says—and with no warning, she shoves you forward.

You stumble with a yelp. The cup flies from your hand. Your knees buckle as hot water surrounds you, silk dragging against your skin, heavy and clinging. You surface gasping, soaked from head to toe, hair plastered to your forehead.

“Hyeri!” you snap, voice shrill, but she’s laughing too hard to answer.

Someone whistles. Someone else claps. Jungkook’s smirking as he lowers himself in across from you, water sloshing up over his chest. He leans back, spreads his arms wide across the edge, like this is his throne and you’ve just been delivered to it.

And your dress—god, your dress. The satin is ruined. It sticks to your stomach, your thighs, your chest. The neckline’s slipped almost indecently low, and you know without looking that the fabric is nearly see-through now, the curve of your bra showing underneath. You tug at it beneath the surface, cheeks flaming.

“It’s not that kind of party,” you mutter, voice tight.

But he’s already watching you like it is. “You’re overdressed.”

You shoot him a look. “Not anymore.”

He smiles, slow and lazy, and leans closer. “Then lose it.”

You hesitate. But the water is warm, the music hazy, the alcohol swimming in your bloodstream like a tide. And your dress is clinging like second skin, dragging with every breath. You sigh. Slide the straps off your shoulders. Shimmy out of the fabric under the surface until it floats around you like a drowning petal. You drape it over the side without ceremony.

Now it’s just you in your bra and underwear. Bare legs. Wet skin. Nothing left to hide behind. And he’s watching you like he wants to ruin you with just his eyes.

Conversation rises around you—someone retells a wild hookup story, someone else splashes a drink over the jets—but none of it registers. You can feel Jungkook's thigh brushing yours beneath the water. His hand finds your knee. Slides just above it.

You breathe in. Let it happen. The moment holds like that. Suspended. Like a physics problem with no solution—just two bodies and friction and heat, variables with too much potential energy, waiting to snap.

Then someone splashes. Water flies up into your face, and you blink hard, flinching.

“Shit,” you mumble, rubbing your eye. Your contact is out of place—stinging, burning, blurring your vision.

"Everything okay?" Jungkook's voice softens with concern as he moves closer.

"Just got something in my eye," you manage, blinking rapidly.

He pulls himself out of the water in one fluid motion, muscles glistening as he reaches for a towel. "Bathroom's inside - I've got eyedrops upstairs. Plus something dry you can change into."

The offer hangs between you. Water drips from his hair down his neck, his soaked boxers clinging to his frame as he extends his hand. You pause, just for a moment, before accepting both his help and what it implies.

The hallway is quiet—eerily so after the chaos of the party below. The music becomes nothing but a muffled hum, thudding through the floorboards as if the house is holding its breath with you. Water drips from your hair to your bare shoulders, your bra clinging uncomfortably to your skin beneath the oversized towel Jungkook threw over you. The soaked fabric of your underwear sticks between your thighs as you walk, your steps squelching against the hardwood.

He walks just ahead, shirtless and dripping, his boxers clinging to every muscle of his thighs. His back is broad, his tattooed arm flexing as he opens a door on the left, pushing it open with casual ease.

“Bathroom,” he says, flicking on the light. “Eyedrops are in the cabinet.”

You step inside. The air is cool, the tile colder beneath your feet. A dim light above the mirror flickers before settling into a soft glow. You avoid looking at yourself in the mirror—you already know you look like something undone. Makeup smudged. Hair clumped into wet strands. Skin flushed from heat and embarrassment and him.

You open the cabinet, find the eyedrops instantly. Your fingers tremble as you tip your chin back, blinking the liquid in. The sting fades slowly.

When you lower your gaze, he’s leaning in the doorway, shoulder against the frame, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t speak. Just watches. Like he’s cataloging every movement, every breath, every second you give him.

You clear your throat. “Thanks.”

He nods. “Didn’t want your eye falling out on my watch.”

You laugh, quiet. “So thoughtful.”

“I am,” he says, straightening. He steps toward you, slow. Measured. “You should let me show you.”

Your pulse skips. “Show me what?”

His eyes dip. “How thoughtful I can be.”

You roll your eyes, but it’s weak. Your body’s already reacting, legs stiffening slightly, breath catching when he stops in front of you, close enough that the heat of his skin warms yours. The water still dripping from his hair catches the light.

“You’re wet,” he murmurs, glancing down.

“Sharp observation.”

He hums. “Not just from the jacuzzi, I think.”

Your eyes snap up. His are burning now—darker, lower, slow-burning coal beneath thick lashes. His voice dips.

“You gonna let me dry you off?”

You don’t answer.

He leans in, lips brushing your ear. “Or should I make you wetter first?”

Your knees threaten to give out.

He steps back before you can respond, smirking like he already knows he’s winning. “Come on,” he says, holding out his hand. “I’ll give you something dry to wear.”

You hesitate. You shouldn’t. You know what this is. But you take his hand anyway.

The bedroom is dim, lit only by a lamp in the corner and the moonlight spilling through half-closed blinds. The air is warmer here. Softer. And everything smells like him—spice, skin, shampoo. The bed is rumpled. There’s a hoodie thrown over a chair, a single black ring on the nightstand, and a half-empty glass of water.

You stand awkwardly at the edge of the room, arms crossed tightly over the towel. He crosses to a dresser, pulls out a black T-shirt and a pair of soft-looking sweatpants, both oversized. He tosses them to the bed and turns to face you.

“You can change here,” he says. “I’ll be good.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You don’t even believe that.”

He grins. “No. But I like hearing you say it.”

You glance at the clothes, then at him—and slowly, deliberately, your fingers move. The towel slips from your grasp, pooling at your feet. The air changes, caught between breath and silence—suspended, reverent.

His eyes drag down your body in a slow, devastating sweep. Your wet bra clings to your chest, nipples clearly visible beneath the sheer fabric. Your underwear is nearly transparent, stretched taut across your hips, the waistband twisted from the way you shifted under the water. Your skin is flushed, dotted with goosebumps. You don’t cover yourself.

He doesn’t move. For a moment, he just stares—mouth parted, throat working as he swallows hard. His cock twitches in his boxers, and the fabric can no longer hide it.

You speak first.“Thought you were gonna be good.”

His gaze lifts—slow, hungry. His voice is hoarse when he answers. “I lied.”

He sits on the bed, legs spread wide, his cock hard and obvious beneath the wet fabric. He leans back on his hands and looks at you like he already owns you. “Come here.”

You move towards him with slow, measured steps, each movement drawing his gaze along the curves of your body. Your soaked bra clings to your skin as you approach, and when you finally stop before him, his exhale is strained with barely contained desire.

He tilts his head. “Can I touch you now?”

You nod. It’s barely a breath.

He reaches forward, hands sliding up the backs of your thighs, then over your hips, thumbs brushing the waistband of your underwear.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he murmurs, eyes flicking up. “You don’t even know.”

“I think I do,” you whisper.

And he grins, wild and crooked and starved. “Good girl.”

His eyes are on your mouth when you breathe.

“Come here,” he says again, voice husky, deeper than it was downstairs. There’s no playfulness in it anymore. Just want.

You step forward, letting your knees brush the outside of his. He doesn’t move. Then, slowly, deliberately, you lift one leg over his thigh, then the other, and lower yourself into his lap.

The second your hips meet his, you feel it — the hard line of his cock pressing against the thin cotton of your panties. You both freeze. His breath stutters, jaw flexing as his fingers curl into the sheets beside him. He looks up at you like you’ve just ruined him.

“You feel that?” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. “That’s what you do to me.”

Your cheeks burn, but you don’t look away.

He reaches for your waist, fingers spreading wide as he guides you gently — forward, then back. The friction is slow. Torturous. His cock slides along the soaked crotch of your panties with every pass, dragging over your clit in a way that makes your thighs twitch.

“You’re soaked,” he whispers, like it’s a confession. “You’ve been wet since the dance, haven’t you?”

You open your mouth to argue, but it comes out a moan instead.

His hands roam. Over your waist, your ribs, thumbs grazing the undercurve of your breasts. He doesn’t touch your nipples — not yet. He’s savoring. Mapping you like something rare and sacred. Your fingers dig into his shoulders for balance, and he lets his head fall forward, lips grazing the slope of your neck.

“You smell like heat,” he murmurs, mouth brushing your pulse. “Like you’re meant to be fucked.”

The air leaves your lungs in one sharp exhale. He sucks at your throat once — soft, then harder — enough to leave a mark. Your hips grind down harder by accident, and he groans into your skin.

“God, baby,” he breathes, voice crumbling, “I want you to ride me just like this. Slow. Fuck—just like that.”

You drag your hips again, letting your soaked panties rub over his cock, and his fingers dig into your hips hard enough to bruise.

“You like that?” you whisper, breath shaking.

He looks up at you, hair falling into his eyes, and smiles like the devil.

“You have no idea.”

He rolls his hips up into yours once, sharply. You gasp.

“Wanna feel you come on me like this,” he mutters, pressing a kiss beneath your jaw. “Make a mess all over my lap. Let me ruin these pretty little panties you wore just for me.”

You whimper. His cock pulses beneath you, hot and thick and aching against your soaked center.

“Say you want it,” he whispers. “Say you want me to fuck you.”

“I want it,” you gasp, breathless. “Jungkook—please…”

And he groans, deep and raw.

“I’m gonna take my fucking time with you.”

You don’t realize how hard you’re breathing until he stills you.

His hands slide beneath your thighs, gripping them firmly, and with a strength that shouldn’t feel as gentle as it does, he lifts you. You gasp as he lays you back across the bed, your legs draped over the edge, your hair fanning against the pillows like you were made to be framed like this—bare and gasping beneath his stare.

He follows you down slowly. Drops to his knees like it's instinct. Not cocky. Not rushed. Like he’s been waiting to kneel here since the second he saw you. Your thighs tremble as he presses them open, fingers leaving faint imprints against your skin. He slides his palms under your knees, pushing them farther apart, and for a second, he just looks at you. At the damp curve of your panties, the way the fabric clings, the way you shift slightly under his stare like the heat between your legs has turned unbearable.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he breathes.

His hands grip the waistband of your panties, and you lift your hips without thinking. He peels them down slowly, watching them drag over your skin like he wants to memorize every inch. When they reach your ankles, he tosses them somewhere behind him—but his eyes never leave you. Then he leans in.

The first touch of his tongue is almost too soft to process. Just the tip, a teasing flick across your clit that makes your entire body jolt. You clutch at the sheets, your back arching when he does it again—firmer this time. He groans the second he tastes you.

“God, you taste so fucking good,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue from your entrance all the way up. “How the fuck do you taste like this?”

Your thighs twitch. He presses his palms against them to keep you open, steady, and lowers his mouth again.

This time, it’s not soft. His tongue laps at you with purpose, flattening against your clit in slow, deliberate strokes that make your legs tense and your fingers curl. He moans against you like he’s the one being pleasured, and the vibrations send shocks through your entire body.

You cry out. It’s instinctual—your hips trying to buck, your hand flying to his hair. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t let you run. He wraps an arm around your thigh, holds you down, and slips two fingers inside you without warning. Your moan is wrecked.

The stretch, the heat, the way his tongue moves faster now—circling, pressing, teasing just to the edge of pain. It’s too much. Not enough. Everything. Your head falls back against the mattress.

“Jungkook—” It’s a whimper, broken. “Oh my god…”

He groans again, tongue working faster, fingers curling inside you like he knows exactly where to find you, exactly how to press until you’re gasping like you’re drowning.

“That’s it,” he rasps against you. “Fuck, baby… let me feel you come on my mouth. Right here. Come for me.”

The pressure builds with each movement of his tongue, your body trembling on the edge as pleasure coils tight and hot within you. When release finally comes, it hits you like a wave — back arching, thighs shaking, lips parting in a cry you can’t control. You feel yourself pulse around his fingers, your orgasm ripping through you in hot, wet pulses that make you sob his name.

He groans low against you and keeps going, tongue flicking as your body shudders, milking every second out of it, chasing every last twitch of pleasure until your hips collapse and your legs fall open. He finally pulls back, face glistening, lips swollen, pupils blown. You’re panting and he stares at you like he’s just won a war. And then—without giving you a second to recover—he grips your thighs and says, voice rough, “Get up.”

You blink, dizzy. “Wha—”

“Mirror,” he says. “Now.”

You’re still catching your breath when he grabs your wrist. Not harshly. Not with force. Just enough pressure to tell you you’re not going anywhere. Your skin is hot, oversensitive, your thighs still twitching, and he’s already pulling you upright like he hasn’t just made you come with nothing but his mouth and two fingers. You follow, unsteady on your feet, your knees weak. Your bra is twisted around your chest, half-askew. Your hair’s stuck to your neck. You feel undone.

And he’s still hard. You catch a glimpse of it as he steps in behind you — the thick outline of his cock straining against the wet cotton of his boxers. You must’ve soaked through his lap earlier, because the front of them is completely dark, clinging to every inch of him. Your throat goes dry.

“Come here,” he murmurs, breath hot against your ear, already steering you toward the mirror in the corner of his room. Full-length. Gold-rimmed. Slightly fogged at the edges from the humidity of your bodies.

“I can’t—” you start, still dazed, and his hand cups your jaw from behind.

“You can,” he says, soft but firm. “You’re not done. Not yet.”

He stops you just a step in front of the mirror.

“Look,” he tells you. His voice is low, breathless now. “Look at yourself.”

You do and the girl in the reflection is… not you. Her lips are swollen. Her bra half-off. Her thighs gleaming. Her chest rising and falling like she’s been running for hours. You can see Jungkook’s frame behind you—tall, shirtless, flushed—his arm reaching around your waist, the other pressing flat against your lower back.

Then his hand slides down. Over your stomach. Your panties are gone. You’re bare for him, wet and pulsing and still aching from before. His fingers dip between your legs again.

You gasp. Your head drops forward—but his voice sharpens, right against your ear.

“No. Eyes up. Watch.”

You do. You watch the way your mouth falls open when two fingers slip back inside you, slow and deep. Watch the way your body rocks forward slightly, forced to brace against the glass as he curls them perfectly, his palm dragging over your clit just enough to make your knees buckle.

He wraps his other arm around your waist to keep you upright.

“Good girl,” he whispers, lips brushing your neck.

Your hips twitch. The angle is too perfect. Too much. Every thrust of his fingers sends you crashing forward against your reflection, breath fogging the glass, lips parting with every ragged moan.

“Look how pretty you are when you fall apart,” he murmurs. “You see that?”

You nod, barely. He pumps his fingers harder. Deeper. You feel them hit that spot again, and your entire body shudders. His hips are pressed to your ass now, his cock grinding against your skin with every movement, leaking through his boxers as he fingers you mercilessly.

“You like being watched?” he growls, voice breaking. “Like seeing yourself like this?”

You whimper. “Yes…”

“You wanna come again, don’t you?” His fingers slam into you harder now, knuckles wet, your slick echoing obscenely in the quiet. “You wanna do it while you’re looking me in the eye?”

You lift your head and meet his gaze in the mirror.

And that’s what breaks you. You cry out, loud and raw, body shaking against his, pressed full-length to the glass as your orgasm rips through you again — messier this time, faster, overwhelming. Your legs quake. His fingers never stop. He holds you through it, one arm locking you in place as you fall apart a second time in front of yourself, because of him.

Your breath fogs the mirror in quick, shallow pants. He finally pulls back, wet fingers sliding free with a low, satisfied groan. He looks at you in the mirror—flushed, panting, nearly gone—and leans in to press a slow kiss to your shoulder.

“I could watch you come all night.”

And somehow, you believe him. He pulls back just enough to let you breathe. The mirror’s cooled now, the glass smeared with your fingerprints and fog, the reflection a blur of tangled hair and sweat and wrecked pleasure. Your thighs are shaking. Your skin is damp. You feel like you’ve melted and there’s no putting yourself back together.

Jungkook turns you gently, hand on your waist, guiding you like he’s still not done claiming you.

The backs of your knees hit the mattress, and you let him push you down until you’re flat on your back. Your arms fall limp beside you, and for a moment all you can do is stare up at him. His chest is heaving. His skin is flushed. His cock — thick, red, twitching — strains beneath the cling of his boxers, soaked and sticking to every outline.

Then he hooks his thumbs in the waistband. You can’t look away. The cotton peels down slowly, catching on the head of his cock. He frees it with one hand, and it slaps up against his stomach, flushed and dripping. Your breath catches.

You’ve seen porn. You’ve read things. You’ve imagined. But nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight of him — him— standing between your knees, eyes dark, cock hard, and so clearly turned on by you. Your thighs press together instinctively. He sees it and smirks then climbs onto the bed. He doesn’t ask. He just leans over you, one hand sliding beneath your back, the other tugging the straps of your bra off your shoulders. You lift your arms without thinking, too far gone to hesitate, and he slides it down and off, tossing it carelessly to the floor.

Your breasts spill free, heavy and flushed and still damp from sweat.

He freezes. Just for a second. “Jesus fuck,” he breathes.

His hand comes up, fingers splayed, and he cups one breast gently, reverently, like it’s something sacred. His thumb grazes your nipple. You shudder.

“You’re unreal,” he murmurs. “So fucking soft… I’ve been staring at these all night.”

You laugh breathlessly. “You haven’t even seen them until now.”

He leans down, presses a kiss between them. “Didn’t have to. I just knew.”

And then he’s straddling your hips, cock in his hand, eyes dark as sin.

You watch, completely still, as he spits into his palm, slicks it over his length, and nestles the head of his cock between your breasts.

Your stomach tightens. He reaches down, gently lifts your hands, guiding them to your own body. “Hold them together for me.”

You obey. Press your breasts around him, the weight of them closing snug around his cock. His breath stutters.

“Just like that,” he whispers. “Fuck—just like that.”

And then he starts to move. It’s slow at first. The head of his cock slides up, nudging under your chin, wet with pre-come. You gasp as it drags back down, gliding slick between your breasts, your skin burning with friction and arousal and humiliation, but god, it turns you on more than you thought possible. You’ve never done this before. Never even thought about it.

But the way he moans? The way his eyes fall half-lidded, hips starting to stutter as he watches his cock disappear between your breasts? It wrecks you. Your thighs press together again. You can feel the wetness leaking out of you — fresh, sticky, proof that even after everything, your body’s still begging.

“Fuck, baby,” Jungkook groans, one hand gripping the headboard for balance, the other fisting your hair. “You have no idea what this does to me.”You whimper.

“Look at you,” he pants. “Tits so fucking perfect. Taking all of me. You’re so good—so fucking good—”

The head of his cock taps your chin again, your lips, your throat. You open your mouth on instinct, and he moans loudly.

“You wanna taste it?” he growls. “Wanna suck the tip while I fuck your tits?”

You nod, breathless, and tilt your head just enough to catch him on your tongue the next time he thrusts up. The sound he makes is filthy. His hips falter. His jaw clenches. The hand in your hair tightens.

“Fuck—fuck, I’m not gonna last like this,” he chokes out. “You feel too good. You’re so fucking hot like this. I could come all over these perfect tits and still not be done.”

You whine while he pulls back.

Not because he’s finished — but because he’s holding on. Barely. And because he hasn’t even been inside you yet. He’s panting above you, knees sunk into the mattress on either side of your waist, sweat beading down his chest as his cock pulses between your breasts. The tip is slick, flushed red, twitching with restraint. His eyes are locked on the mess he’s made of your body — your breasts shining, lips parted, your entire body still trembling beneath him.

But you’re not done. You should be. You’ve come twice, your legs are jelly, your skin is hypersensitive — but none of that matters. Because the longer you stare at him, the more you realize that this isn’t enough. Not yet. Not until you’ve had all of him. Not until you’ve tasted the way he’s falling apart.

Your voice is gone. Your mind’s gone too. All you can feel is heat — liquid and pulsing, low in your belly and behind your knees. You want to be good for him. You want to be filthy for him. You want to know what he tastes like. You want to feel his cock on your tongue.

So you shift beneath him. Lift your hands to his thighs, fingers sliding up slowly, dragging over the thick muscle until you reach his hips. He watches you with hooded eyes, breathless, lips wet and parted. You look up at him. And then — without a single word — you stick out your tongue. The way his expression breaks…

“Holy fuck,” he whispers.

His hand comes down, cradling your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek as he stares like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

“You want to suck me off that bad?” he asks, voice rough. “After everything I’ve done to you?”

You nod. Keep your tongue out. Your eyes never leave his. He growls.

“Say it,” he whispers, thumb pressing into your chin. “Be a good girl. Tell me what you want.”

Your voice is hoarse. Desperate. “I want your cock in my mouth, Jungkook… I want to suck you until you lose it. I want to feel you on my tongue, in my throat. I want to taste all of you. Please…”

His jaw clenches. His hips jerk forward instinctively, the tip of his cock brushing your bottom lip.

“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me,” he mutters. “Open your mouth.”

You do and he guides himself in slowly, head pressing past your lips, the taste of salt and musk blooming over your tongue. You groan softly, and he shudders.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, hand slipping into your hair, wrapping it around his fingers like reins. “Fuck, baby. Look so pretty like this.”

You hollow your cheeks, take him deeper. Inch by inch, tongue curled beneath the shaft, your lips stretched wide. His cock slides in heavy, hot, and you let it, eyes fluttering closed as he presses against the back of your throat.

He hisses through his teeth. “God—fuck, your mouth…”

You moan around him. The vibration makes him groan, hips rolling forward just slightly — enough to make you gag softly around him. Your eyes water. You don’t stop.

Your fingers curl around his thighs. You suck him hard, wet and steady, letting spit drip down your chin, letting it get messy, wanting it to get messy. You want him undone. You want him to lose control.

“Fuck, just like that,” he pants, voice cracking. “You’re so good. You’re fucking perfect.”

He begins to move. Not roughly. Just slow thrusts of his hips, sliding his cock deeper with every pass, using your mouth like he’s been dreaming about it for months. His hand holds your hair tight. His stomach flexes. You can feel him trembling. You flatten your tongue. Let him fuck into your mouth. He starts muttering now — barely coherent.

“Shit… you’re gonna make me come—your fucking mouth—baby, I’m gonna—”

But then he pulls out. You gasp, mouth open, spit trailing from your lips to the head of his cock. He’s shaking.

“I can’t,” he breathes. “Not yet. I need to be inside you.”

You’re still panting when he leans down to kiss you. It’s not gentle. He licks into your mouth, like he can’t bear the space between you anymore. Then he reaches for the drawer.

Pulls out a condom and looks down at you like you’re the only thing in the universe.

“Lie back,” he says. “Let me fuck you right.”

You’re already open for him when he returns. Laid bare, legs parted, lips swollen, chin still shining from spit. Your body aches in the best way — used, touched, ruined — but it’s nothing compared to what you feel when you watch him roll the condom on. His chest is heaving. His thighs are flexed. And his cock, flushed and twitching in his grip, looks almost angry with need.

He climbs between your legs slowly. Like he’s in control. But you can see it now — the tension behind his smirk. The tremble in his breath. He’s been on the edge since you got on your knees, and he’s barely holding on.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice rough and low. “All spread out for me. Wet as fuck. And you still want more?”

You nod, breathless and he grins. Then lowers himself, his cock brushing against your folds — not pushing in yet, just slapping it lightly across your entrance.

Once. Twice. A third time, with a wet sound that makes you twitch.

You gasp, hips jerking. “Jungkook…”

He groans. “You hear that? That’s how wet you are for me. All this for my cock, baby?”

You whimper. “Yes. All for you.”

He drags the head of his cock through your folds, slow and filthy, coating himself in your slick. Then he holds himself there — right at your entrance — and still doesn’t move.

“Tell me you want it.”

“I want it,” you breathe.

He growls. “Nah. Say it right.”

You whimper again, voice breaking. “Please, Jungkook… I want your cock. I want you to fuck me. I want to feel you inside.”

He exhales like you’ve punched the air from his lungs. “Good girl.”

And then he pushes in.

It’s slow. Torturous. You feel every inch — the stretch, the pressure, the way your walls cling to him. You gasp, head falling back against the pillows, thighs trembling as he slides deeper.

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice guttural. “You’re so tight. So warm… shit—like you were made for me.”

Your mouth falls open. “You feel so good, Jungkook… so fucking big…”

He growls at that — hips pressing all the way in until he’s bottomed out.

“Yeah? You like this?”

“Yes,” you pant. “You fill me so good, I—I can’t think—”

“You don’t need to think,” he breathes. “Just feel.”

Then he starts to move. Slow thrusts at first — deep and deliberate. His hips rock into yours with precision, dragging his cock against every sensitive spot inside you. His body presses into yours with heat and weight and intent, chest nearly touching yours, forearms braced on either side of your head.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he murmurs. “Tight little pussy taking all of me like that.”

You moan — helpless, wrecked, desperate.

“Say it,” he whispers. “Say it’s mine.”

“It’s yours,” you breathe, voice trembling. “It’s all yours, Jungkook…”

“Say no one else fucks you like this.”

“No one. Just you—only you—”

He groans loud at that, pace faltering for a beat before he starts pounding harder. He fucks you like he’s trying to leave a mark. Every thrust hits deeper, sharper, hips slapping against your ass. His hand slides up to your chest, gripping one breast, squeezing until you gasp. His other hand tangles in your hair, pulling just enough to tilt your head back.

“You wanna come for me, baby?”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Please…”

“You gonna let me watch you fall apart again?”

“Yes—fuck, please, Jungkook—”

He shifts, changes the angle, and suddenly every thrust is grinding against your clit just right. You cry out, back arching, thighs trembling. You’re so close. So fucking close.

“Come for me,” he growls. “Come all over my cock, baby. I wanna feel you tighten around me—come like you fucking mean it.”

And you do.

Your orgasm hits like a supernova — legs locking around his waist, mouth falling open in a scream. Your body pulses around him, walls clenching so hard he nearly loses it with you. He fucks you through it, whispering filth in your ear the whole time, praising you, owning you. When you finally come down, panting and wrecked, he kisses you like he’s starving but he’s not done yet.

You’re still pulsing around him when he pulls out. You gasp, empty in an instant, your body twitching from aftershocks. He kneels back for a breath, staring down at you like he’s trying to burn the image into memory — your legs splayed, your skin flushed, your mouth swollen and wet with the ghost of his name.

And then he flips you fast. You land on your stomach with a surprised moan, face sinking into the pillow, arms collapsing beneath you. Before you can breathe, he’s behind you again, spreading your thighs with greedy hands, pressing his cock between your folds.

“Fuck,” he growls, dragging himself through your slick. “You look so good like this.”

He grabs your hips, lifts you slightly, and pushes back in with one rough thrust. You cry out. Your fingers clutch the sheets. He doesn’t give you time to adjust. He just fucks into you—deep, fast, like he’s finally letting go. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, wet and sharp, paired with his ragged moans and your helpless gasps.

“Oh my god,” you whimper, spine arching. “Fuck—Jungkook—yes—”

“You like this?” he snarls. “You like getting fucked like this? Bent over like a toy?”

“Yes,” you pant, no shame left. “I love it—I love your cock—don’t stop—”

He laughs, breathless, feral. His hand slides up your back, tangles in your hair, and pulls. Your back arches instinctively. The burn in your scalp shoots straight to your cunt. You moan like it’s oxygen.

“Good girl,” he growls. “Take it. Take all of it.”

He thrusts harder, faster. Every stroke knocks a sound out of your throat. Your body jolts forward with the force of it, and he only pulls you back harder. And then suddenly his palm lands on your ass, hard and hot. You jerk. Whine. Grind back against him.

“Oh, you like that?” he grits out. “You want me to spank you while I fuck you?”

“Yes—yes, please, Jungkook—”

Smack. Again. Your ass stings, skin heating under each slap, but it just makes everything worse — your walls clamp around him, another orgasm building before you can even prepare for it.

“You’re gonna come again, aren’t you?” His voice is sharp now, breathless. “Fucking dripping. So messy. You love being used like this.”

“I love it,” you sob. “I love it—I love being fucked by you—please—please, Jungkook—”

He grabs both your wrists and pulls them behind your back, holding you open while he slams into you, deep and fast, until your vision goes white.

“Come again,” he orders. “Come for me. Let me feel it.”

And when you do, it hits harder than before — your body convulsing, vision tunneling, mouth dropping open in a silent scream as your pussy clenches tight around him.

“Fuck—fuck—I’m gonna—”

He groans loud, one final thrust punching deep into you and then he’s coming. Hard. You feel it — the way his whole body tightens behind you, the heat spilling into the condom as he presses as deep as he can go, panting against your spine, voice raw. He holds there for a long moment. Breathing. Trembling. Then slowly, gently, he loosens his grip on your wrists. Brushes a soft kiss over your shoulder. Collapses beside you.

The room is silent now. Just two bodies, sweat-drenched and sore, trembling from everything they weren’t supposed to feel. Your body’s gone heavy. Limbs lax. Muscles aching in the best way. You’re still on your stomach, hair matted to the back of your neck, thighs sticky, lungs slow to catch up. The sheets are wrinkled beneath you. The whole room smells like sweat and sex and the kind of satisfaction that seeps into the bones.

And then he touches you again. A hand slides along your hip — warm, calloused — trailing over the curve of your ass and down your thigh. Then it shifts. Moves up. His thumb grazes the underside of your breast, and his mouth follows a heartbeat later.

“Jungkook,” you murmur, voice soft, half-dazed.

He doesn’t answer. He just mouths at your nipple, lazy and slow, tongue swirling in wet circles while his hand cups the other breast and gives it a greedy squeeze. You gasp. Your back arches instinctively. He hums low in his throat like you're dessert.

“Thought you were done,” you whisper, eyes fluttering.

He pulls off your nipple with a wet pop. “I’m never done with you.”

You whimper. Laugh. Try to turn your face away — but he follows. Crawls up your body, kisses you deep and messy, his hand still palming your breast while his tongue slides into your mouth like he owns it. His lips are sticky, hot. You taste yourself on them.

And you melt all over again. His fingers dig into your ass next. Squeezing. Spreading. Possessive.

“You know,” he rasps, breath fanning over your ear, “I could fuck you like this every day.”

You laugh again — breathless, flushed. “Yeah?”

“Every fucking day.” He groans. “You’d let me, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” you breathe, turning your head slightly, kissing his jaw. “You fuck so good…”

He moans. “You make it easy. Being inside you is like… holy fuck, it’s unreal.”

You roll onto your back, too lazy to fully fight him off. He’s still kissing your chest, dragging his mouth from one nipple to the other, circling slow. His tongue’s warm. Wet. Wicked. Every touch makes you twitch. And your voice—when it comes—is low and teasing.

“You gonna get off on my tits again, or let me put some clothes on?”

“Don’t you dare,” he mutters, pulling back only slightly, eyes dropping to the mess of your ruined panties on the floor. He picks them up with two fingers, holds them hostage. “I’m keeping these.”

You blink at him in shock. “Jungkook.”

He grins. “For science.”

You snort, still breathless. “That was…” You exhale hard, letting your head fall back. “So fucking needed.”

He grins. “Anytime. I’m very committed to supporting women in STEM.”

You laugh — fully this time. He tosses you his hoodie, then shimmies into his boxers like he isn’t still half-hard just watching you move. You stretch slowly, aching all over, before sitting up and tugging on your dress without underwear. His eyes darken. And then, before you leave, you do it — that final little flick of power he never sees coming. You hook your finger in your mouth. Suck it slowly. Loudly. Let it pop free. Then glance back at him over your shoulder with a sweet, filthy smile.

His jaw drops. He groans. “Oh my fucking god.”

You smirk. “See you around, Jeon.”

And just before you slip out the door, he mutters under his breath, half-wrecked:

“…I’m so fucking in trouble.”

part 2

your feedback means the world to me. 🖤

#jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #bts smut #jungkook ff #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #college au #campus fuckboy jungkook #dom!jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook please

2K notes · View notes

bunnis-monsters · 4 months ago

Text

NSFW

A/N: this is a kofi request, about a naga that gives you a massage to help with your chronic pain… and that leads to spicy things~

You let out a sigh as you rubbed your sore body, unsatisfied with your doctor’s current diagnosis… or well, lack of one.

It had been a long time since you last brought up your chronic pain, no one ever listened to you before so why keep asking for help when nothing seemed to change? You had found ways to… somewhat manage, so was it really all that bad?

Well, that’s what you thought before yet another doctor dismissed your pain and sent you home with a smile and tip to take ibuprofen before bed.

“Ibuprofen? Does she seriously think I haven’t tried that already?” you murmured to yourself, wincing as you laid on your side. “All that money for an appointment, just to come home empty handed.”

You didn’t react when your phone buzzed on your nightstand, it was late and you didn’t feel like answering anyone’s messages after the day you had.

In the morning when you had some caffeine and could think clearly, you read the message you had been sent the night before.

“Hey, I know you’ve been having some pretty bad flare ups lately. I went to this masseuse and I’ve never felt better! Here’s the address, he said he’s free tomorrow, you should go after work!”

You let out an annoyed huff. Although you loved your friend, you disliked when people recommended random treatments to you.

As if you haven’t visited a masseuse before! Every chiropractor in the area knew your name!

“Well… guess it can’t hurt. I’ve got nothing to do tonight anyways.”

After another work day full of pain and a double dose of anxiety, you put the address into your phone. Luckily, it was close enough to your house that you could justify going home to change out of your work clothes first.

“First impressions are important after all…” you muttered to yourself, brushing off your skirt.

The address led you to a small cottage. It looked more cozy than professional, which you didn’t mind. After all, you wanted to be comfortable and had been through this song and dance so many times you didn’t care anymore.

“Hello!”

You jumped, turning to see a naga slithering up the driveway. It wasn’t often a human like you encountered a magical being, the last time you came face to face with one was in kindergarten when one of your classmates was a troll.

“O-oh, hello. Are you..?”

He smiled, flashing his fangs. “The masseuse? Yes! You must be (Name), your friend said you’d be here early.”

While you walked in, you didn’t notice the way his eyes wandered downwards, taking note of how nice you looked in that skirt.

You did the usual, undressing and laying down on the premade cot before calling him back into the room. For some reason, even though you had been through this multiple times, you almost felt… shy.

“Alright, where are you feeling the most pain?”

You pointed out your sore spots, wincing as his hands went to work. After a few minutes, he frowned and pulled back a bit. “And this isn’t helping, is it?”

“No… it seems nothing really seems to work. Thanks for-“

He stopped you from getting up, helping you relax back into the cot before his hands moved down your body. “I see your friend didn’t mention what I specialize in.”

You saw his fangs again, the way the light glinted off of them making you wince.

“You see, my venom can act as a muscle relaxer. It’s more potent and effective than anything you’ve ever tried, I bet.”

Before you would have hesitated, but you were so tired of the pain and were willing to try anything. “That… sounds nice.”

The naga hovered over you, sniffing your neck before giving it a lick. He was quite handsome, and it had been so long since a man had been this close with you. It felt intimate…

His neck sunk into your neck, and he stayed on top of you as the venom kicked in. He worked his hands into your muscles, humming softly as you let out satisfied moans and sighs.

“Mmm…”

His hands wandered, stopping right at your hips. You were plump, the towel barely covering your fat ass and pretty pussy. Although he tried his best to stay professional, he could feel his cocks beginning to peek through his slit.

“Feeling good?” he asked. You noticed his voice had a slight huskiness to it, and you decided to take your chance.

“Yeah… what about you?”

You couldn’t move much, but the slight shift of your hips into his was enough to have him hissing through his teeth. His cocks settled on your ass as he continued to massage you.

“Mmm… me too. In fact, I can make sure we feel even better… together.”

By the time you got home, your pain and sexual tension was fully relieved, and you already had your next appointment scheduled.

The naga was almost more excited for it than you were.

Want more of this character? Leave a comment!

—————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi @flamefoxx @sandramalikstyles-blog @breathingstarlight

2K notes · View notes

trh0d3s · 12 days ago

Text

Manager in the making!

Part1! After the prologue 😈

Saja boys x human manager reader

The morning light floods the living room waking you up from a good ass dream you were having… it was definitely not world domination via conquering the agency and kicking bobmagatron 2000 the man child in the face! No…Definitely not...

The regrets of last night’s fridge raid hitting your stomach and your wallet.

You sit up on your couch kicking a half empty can of soda that was dangerously close to your foot onto the floor.…on your phone! “ah shit-“Cursing more awake than ever you throw your blanket on the wet spot trying dry up where it got on your phone. This happened once but with grape juice and you missed a call from an employer which ended up getting you fired and passing your opportunity to someone else. Picking up the precious object with your poor blanket checking over it before turning it on. A sigh of relief it still works! Ok, maybe it’s still broken cause that can’t be a reply to one of your ads…?

You walk to the kitchen in your one-bedroom apartment eyes glued to the screen in both shock and horror mindlessly bumping into the chairs and small dining table to make it to the coffee maker. It was from craigslist…the one you hesitating to put up, you heard the stories from there and REALY don’t want to manage some kink or underground drug ring...

It’s all you got right now so if it’s something weird just turn tail and run! Maybe report to the police too if it’s the drug ring route. You punch in the buttons for the coffee to start brewing not too keen on drinking 2-day old coffee you left on a hurry to a company meet and greet.

Fromk:Xx//Demonboy//[email protected]

To:[email protected]

Subject: We need a manager

We have looked at your skills and are willing to pay a set price of your choosing for your skills to manage our start up boy band.

The mug misses your mouth reading through the email. Boy band? Was expecting something off from craigslist also what is up with that email? I know I was 13 once but as a professional email…?

This boy band consists of 5 members you won’t need to worry about money whatever you need or want will be given to you. If you agree meet us at this location/_________/ at 12pm.

Very vague and mysterious… that place is only a couple blocks down, a small square with various food stands around. Popular spot for weekends and popups. ”Weird…bit at least its public” You mumble mid sip at your coffee, looking at the time 11.:40…OK YOU WILL QUESTION THIS LATER. Dumping your drink in the sink you rush to your room to get dressed something professional casual for a good first impression. This might be potential kidnapping but if the off chance it isn’t you have to be ready to wow to dazzle and get that bank! Cleaning up your living room will be held off for later, you shove your feet into your shoes grabbing you keys and phone. This might be your chance! (What do you think of that L this is my perfect victory-! I mean who said that!?)

The walk to small square was short but loud everyone was buzzing about the new single that dropped last night. Thought the girls were supposed to go on break before the idol’s awards? Guess if you love your craft every break is too long. Screens showing the countdown passed you, people huddling together on their phone staring at the screen with mumbles and squeals of excitement.

Ok what would a group of boy band wannabes look like? Dressed to the nines or playing it lowkey? You pass a empty alley that branched off to only one shop the smell of earth and herbs making its way to where you were. Weird I don’t see a group of 5 waiting for me? Can’t expect them to hold a sign to pinpoint where they though...

“If this is a scam and someone is playing with me, I’m punching someone” Mumbled under your breath scanning the crowd, is it me or wasn’t there light behind me? I look off my phone in front of me what used to be the sun was blocked off by a wall...? “What the…he-Ack“ You were pulled into the same empty alley you passed with a yelp two hands tugging you in by the shoulders. A slender finger twirls you into a dip the two hands prior long gone you were going to fall but it was misdirected to…. this?!

You open your eyes to a jaw dropping sight a clear face looking down at you with no expression before pulling you back up your feet with a smirk. Like he was playing with you, amusement to your reactions shown on his face. Grabbing your bearings against the stone wall beside you the wall that was blocking the sun was actually....5 HOT MEN?!

Maybe you weren’t being lied to and craigslist decided to bless you with something not weird and dangerous! Your awestruck staring was cut off by what looked to be the leader stepping forward. “Your _____ right? Accepted my proposal as manager?” His voice was smooth and fluid like liquid like he was nudging you into the direction he wanted.

“Ah yes that’s me! Are you…” You look back to your phone to read out his email receipt. “xxDemon boy xx?...” Voice unsure to even be saying that aloud. He coughs into his fist slightly embarrassed as the rest of his group look at him in pure bewilderment or is it something else? The baby faced one of the group was just dead-on staring at him.

“yes… That’s me. But forget that my names Jinu” He cuts into the silence before addressing the boys behind him like they rehearsed this. “Abbey” At his name the man with short pink hair and very much not fitting shirt stepped forward striking a pose…How is he that big did he eat the other idols in training? His shirt looked like it was about to break at the seams if he strikes another pose. Your eyes make their way down his form honing in on the 8 pack he’s showing off with zero shame.

Someone else stepped in front of him big heart shaped pink hair striking a pose before blowing a kiss in your direction. “Romance” Jinus voice behind you placing a hand on your shoulder momentarily distracting you as a blue hair enters your vision staring you down with a cool nonchalant look. “Baby” Ok little on the nose with these names…he just gives you a nod eyes set on a bored expression brushing his blue hair out of his eyes. “and that’s mystery” Jinu turns your attention to the last one in the group grey hair in his face covering his eyes but it felt like he was staring into your soul…

Was he growling or is that you thinking crazy with these majestic men around you? Jinu spins you around to face him as abbey holds mystery back from baring his teeth. “We are the Saja boys” This boy strikes his own pose before straightening up smoothing his shirt over. “And you will be our manager, yes?”

You can’t help but blink at them before going into professional mode, turning a complete 360, you can see the potential now. You are going to skyrocket these men! “What type of boy band are you? What music are you aiming for? Synthpop, dance rock, artpunk? Y'all do seem the type for bubblegum pop.” You start shooting out different genres of music found in Kop in rapid fire. It surprises them how fast you can switch into the manager persona your destined to be. You start walking around the boys, analyzing them, stopping in front of mystery to stare at the mass of hair where his eyes are supposed to be, before moving on with a hum of approval.

Before Jinu can reply you raise a hand shutting him up already making the loop around the 5 freakishly tall and handsome men. “I can work with this. Ok, I accept your offer I will be your manager” you say triumphally arms crossing over your chest with a proud grin on your face. This is your big break! Nothing will stop you from getting this boyband into top five! Bob won’t see what’s coming! Mischievous giggling erupts from you as you plot silently in your mind the proud grin turning smug.

“Really? You can’t take it back now you know” Jinu voices from beyond your plotting pulling up a paper from somewhere behind his back for you to sign you don’t think too much of it. Not batting an eye at the way it shimmered or seem to come from nowhere too lost in the fantasy of recognition from the agency that failed, you sign it on the dotted line.

“We want to debut tomorrow” Ok, that snaps you out of your daydreams the contract long gone.

“Tomorrow?!” You cough out face molding into to shock the boys could only smile at your thoughtlessness. You ran in headfirst at the first opportunity given to you common for humans, and they know that.

“Yea tomorrow or can our wonderful manager not do it?” Abby butts in, smugness lacing his words as he stepped forward pulling the arms crossed behind his head move. Was he trying to intimidate you with his muscles?

“Can’t be too hard for you right? Oh, amazing manager” This time it was baby that stole your attention eyes lidded with that same grin everyone was sporting, eyes no longer bored but focused directly on you. He leaned on mystery who continued to stare into your existence with a blank face that slowly turned into that same fucking smile!

You’re probably going to regret this in the long haul. Who fucking cares you’re going to live your dream! You’re going to make them the next face of Korea. No, the entire world!

You look at your phone to check the time before nodding and thinking, “I can work with 24 hours, give or take.” Yeah, nothing is going to stop this manager in the making!

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Extra: :9

#Kpdh #kpop demon hunters x reader #kpop demon hunters spoilers #kpop demon hunters romance x reader #kpdh x jinu #kpop demon hunters #Kpdh baby x reader #kpdh x gn reader #x gender neutral reader #Kpdh abbey x reader #Kpdh mystery x reader #These boys are too fucking fine #Bout to arrest them

980 notes · View notes

chaoticwriting · 7 months ago

Text

Danny X Cass part 1

The tension is high in the Watchtower currently. It is bad enough that the JL get news that Darkseid plans to invade Earth a few weeks ago when suddenly the Teen Titans contacted the JL that Trigon might actually invade Earth soon too.

Currently all the heroes are discussing possible scenarios and plans to counter the attack when suddenly a shadow moves behind Batman and pocks his sides.

Batman turns and sees his daughter, Cassandra, looking at him. She starts making hand signs and confused Batman momentarily.

'Call Friend. Might help.'

"Who's your friend? Is there anyone else that can help that isn't here?"

To that question, Cass stalls for a moment. She seems fidgety like she is nervous about something.

'Old friend. Also hero.'

Batman thinks for a moment and decides to give in. He might have a way to fend of the invasion of Darkseid and Trigon at the same time but not without heavy casualties. That plan is only for the worst case scenario.

Giving a nod to her daughter, Cass immediately beamed and goes to a far corner of the meeting room. Batman looks at her daughter that looks almost giddy for once. He doesn't know who she is calling but if she trust the other person, then he is also willing to try to trust whoever she is calling.

Cass sits in a corner where there is no one else near her and pulls out an old cell phone. A green light shines from the phone as Cass turns it on and a text is received just as she about to message the person.

Danny 🥰❤️🥰

Danny: Hey Cass, would you be free for a date? I wanna show you something cool I just get.

Cass: Can't go. Trigon and Darkseid are invading Earth. Very busy. Dad is stressed. Can you help?

Danny: Sure. I can go beat up Trigon and I'm sure Dan would gladly go and beat up Darkseid. He's been complaining about not being able to have a good fight since I have become too powerful for him. 😎😎

Cass: Come in Phantom. Introduce you to everyone.

Danny: Ok now you are making me nervous. Should I bring your dad gifts? Should I wear a formal wear or casual wear? Oh no! What if your dad doesn't like me? 😱😰😨

Cass: Don't worry. Dad will like you. Dad is paranoid. But he loves me.

Danny: Maybe I should gifts him an ecto-weapon? I heard he likes to make contingency plans. Surely he would like me more if I give him stuff to fund his hobby.

Cass: Hobby?

Danny: Y'know. Making contingency plan. I think that is his hobby. Like I understand if he has 1 or 2 contingency plans for each heroes but doesn't he have like 50 for each heroes?

Cass: 😂💕. No bringing ecto-weapon. Might hurts you.

Danny: It's fine. I will give it to him if he asks. Anyway, where should I meet you?

Cass: Watchtower.

Danny:Alright. See you in a minute. Bye 👋👋

Cass: 👋👋

Cass puts down her phone and is startled when a purple hoodie peeks from above her shoulders.

"Ooooo, is that your boyfriend? No wonder you are so protective of that phone. How dare you not tell me you have a boyfriend? Does our friendship means nothing to you?"

The figure clad in purple says dramatically. Cass push her away and stares at her angrily. Even though she is in full costume the purple still knows when she is mad.

"Steph. Bad peeking."

"Sorry, Sorry. I can't help it seeing you so secretive like that. I promise I will not do it again."

Lies. Both of them knows Steph is lying.

"Anyway, who is that? You know you shouldn't tell our situation to outsiders right? B might be mad if he knows."

"B says ok."

"Oh what? I never get permission to tell people stuff. This is blatant favoritism."

Cass looks at her smugly. Of course she knows she is the favorite. That's why she knows Batman will approve of Danny no matter what.

A commotion rises suddenly from the center of the room and Cass and Steph turn towards it ready for battle. They can see the members of JLD panicking about something when suddenly a green portal opens right in the middle of the room.

From the portal, a tall figure steps out with powerful presence emitting from him. His silver white hair falls down to his neck and his black and white hazmat suit gives of the feeling of awe whenever someone looks at him.

All the heroes in the room get into a fighting stance except a select few.

"Hello everyone. I am Phantom and I am here to help."

The figure's voice is not loud but everyone can hear it like it is spoken right besides them.

Before anyone could say anything a figure bypasses everyone and sprints towards Phantom. Unfazed, Phantom spreads his arm and the figure flies into his arm. Phantom gives the figure a hug and she replies with a tighter hug.

"I miss you." Cass says silently.

"I miss you too." Danny whispers and sends the voice to her only.

While everyone is still confused and stunned on what is going on, Constantine curses and brings everyone's attention back.

"Fucking hell. Whatcha doing here kid? I never call you did I."

The figure looks up and stares at Constantine. Everyone starts to become nervous and thought the figure is going to attack them when he just smirks.

"Of course it is not you. You only call me if you need my help to deal with your ex or something. You should really stop dating all these interdimensional demons y'know. There are only so many times I can save you."

Phantom's rebuttal gets a few snickers and gasps from the crowd.

"Fuck you, kid. What are you even doing here? And why are you holding one of the bats?"

"Do you hit your head somewhere in hell, Constantine? What does this looks like? I'm going to eat her?"

That comment makes a few figures in the crowd tense for a moment before Constantine next word baffles them more.

"No fucking way. You're dating one of the bats. Fucking hell. I don't want to be part of this shit anymore. Y'all can go fuck yourself."

Constantine then picks up his flask and opens a portal to return to House of Mystery. Just as he's about to step into the portal, Superman speaks up.

"Wait, Constantine. We still need your help in dealing with Trigon and Darkseid."

John stops in his tracks and looks at Danny. He chugs down all the remaining alcohol in his flask before replying.

"If that kid can't handle this problem, then we might as well just lay down and wait for our demise."

He then steps into the portal and disappears. Everyone looks at Danny that is still holding Cass in a hug and the awkwardness can be felt in the air.

Danny releases Cass that releases a whimper that is picked up by a few figures primarily the big bat.

"So, hello. I am Phantom and as I say, I am here to help."

Part 2

#danny x cass #dp x dc crossover #dead silent #dpxdc #danny phantom #dc universe #Probablymultipartbutdependsonmymood #cassandra cain #batman #batfam

1K notes · View notes

chuluoyi · 1 year ago

Text

jealousy, jealousy...

- nanami kento x reader

your husband seems to be immune to jealousy, and you've pretty much convinced yourself that he just doesn't have it in him... or does he?

genre/warnings: crack, fluff, jealous!nanami (he is in denial), implied suggestive content, mentions of pregnancy, gojo cameo (i just can't pass up the chance of him annoying the heck out of nanami ahaha)

note: based on this ask, this is a little continuation to the secret wife! and this is in the same universe as love entries so gojo is married to the love entries reader! :)

general masterlist

By all means, Nanami Kento is not a jealous man.

He knows his worth. And he knows you. Out of all people, you wouldn't try anything with anyone.

Even more so with Ino. He knows him too, and there is just no way.

So... he really shouldn't get riled up, especially when it was his shitty senior who tried to set him on fire—

"It's still beyond me, how you managed to bag her," Gojo remarked with a bark of snort. Both of them shared the same table in this high-end bar, an afterparty for the school's graduation, but Nanami was seriously considering to move after Yaga left earlier until this clown came. "And keep her a secret too. I mean, that's so foul! If I were your wife, I'd divorce you on the spot."

Nanami threw him a pointed look. "The feeling is mutual. I feel bad for her for putting up with you too. And please don't be gross and say things like you being my wife. It's appalling."

Gojo's wife being his close friend and former classmate was what foul, Nanami thought. Sure, he would acknowledge Gojo's relentless efforts, but still, anyone willing to be this shameless paintbrush's wife must lead a really daring life.

The strongest sorcerer rolled his eyes. "Nah, I'll have you know that my married life is full of bliss. I have a proof, look at my—"

"If you want to show me hickeys, I'll seriously report you for harassing me."

And to that, Gojo merely whined and pursed his lips, and Nanami finally had some peace. He really entertained the thought of going back, because Gojo wasn't exactly a fun company, and this was getting late, until…

"Hey, Ino—the one who always follows you around," Gojo suddenly said. "Whoa, you're letting him close to your wife too, huh?"

Nanami whipped his head to where you were, and true to what Gojo said, you were indeed there, talking animatedly to his junior.

You were all smiles, and Ino was every bit as excited as you were. There was nothing remotely wrong with how you were conversing. You two looked like a pair of really, really good friends.

Ever since word of your marriage got out and became common knowledge, you've been receiving the kind of attention that Nanami wasn't sure he preferred. While he hadn't intended to keep it a secret, he certainly felt that a more private life was preferable.

But the thing was… weren't you too close with him? If it were up to him, Ino could've had at least two steps back. What were you discussing anyway?

"You're a lax husband, Nanamin, heh," Gojo whistled, totally grinning because he won this fight. "I know you probably think it's harmless, but a puppy is still a dog, you know~"

A puppy... is what?

That night, that phrase was what going through in his mind over and over as he chugged down his drinks.

No way, no way... It must have been because he had too much to drink. He couldn't possibly!

The next time he felt that unpleasant feeling, it was on one night, at the comfort of your home.

Both of you had just finished watching a movie, still lounging on the sofa. You were blissfully humming, texting away on your phone at—Nanami looked at the clock—11 p.m.

Now, now, he wasn't one who would be checking your phone or such, but he couldn't deny the curiosity within him, because you weren't usually texting anyone this late at night.

"Hehe~" suddenly, you giggled and Nanami glanced at you in wonder. You seemed to be having fun.

Who... are you texting?

Despite telling himself he wouldn't meddle in your affairs, he gruffly cleared his throat. "Dear, it's late."

"Oh?" you whipped your head to him. "Oh, yeah..."

You were genuinely confused, your husband was folding his face as if he was sour of something. "Kento? What's wrong?"

But suddenly, his face lit up into a smile, kind of forced though. "Ah, nothing..." And suddenly he lifted you up from the sofa, making you almost yelp as you dropped your phone and wrapped your arms around his neck. "Time for bed."

However, what you didn't realize was that your phone's screen lit up just as the sender replied to your message, and Nanami caught a glimpse of it.

Ino.

A puppy is still a dog, you know~

The heck?

"Kento?" you asked again, and he immediately turned to you, unable to read the message. Still, his mind was reeling in many ways, and when he looked into your innocent, round eyes, suddenly he clicked his tongue, eyes slitting in dissatisfaction.

"Time for bed, dear."

Long story short, that night, your husband was somehow a little more aggressive than usual... even as he fondled you ever so softly at the end.

The third time, Nanami had enough.

He had just finished a mission when he got that call from Ino, informing him that you were at a clinic after nearly passing out.

Out of anyone else... how could you not call him first?!

He may be vexed, but worry was what clouded his mind the most. You were almost five months pregnant now, and to have this happening to you—

He walked in to find you lying on the small bed, your eyes lighting up when you saw him. "Kento..."

"What happened to you? Why didn't you call me?" his voice was rough, and your smile fell. You felt him gripping your hand tightly. "How can you—"

Ino, sensing his apprehension, suddenly intervened, "Uh, Nanami-san, it's not—"

Nanami turned to him sharply, causing him to gulp.

"We were... in a bakery when Y/N-san suddenly felt faint," the younger man explained. "Please don't be too hard on her."

"And why are you with my wife in broad daylight?"

"Kento, it's not what it looks like!" you squeezed his hand urgently. "We were just... trying to find a cake, you know..."

"...what?"

And that day, everything Nanami thought he knew was turned on its axis. Perhaps, if he wasn't thinking too much—if Gojo's words hadn't taken his mind, he wouldn't jump into conclusions this easily.

Your first wedding anniversary was just in a couple of weeks, and you had enlisted in Ino's help to find this one bakery that he swore sold only the best goods. Your texts to each other were solely about that—nothing more, nothing less.

"Aww, Kento~" you cooed as Nanami helped you into your shared bed once you got back home. "You got jealous, it's cute, and I'm happy~"

He huffed. "I was not jealous."

"Ehh, didn't look like that to me though~"

"Listen," he said, taking hold of your shoulders once he had seated you on the bed, looking straight into your eyes. "From now on, whatever you do... you have to contact me first, alright?"

"Oh—?"

"When you need something, when you don't feel well, when you feel like you might be in some kind of danger..." his tone was serious, emphasizing each word. "You have to reach out to me first. You don't go to Ino, Gojo, or anyone else—me. You go to me. I'm your husband, and I intend to fulfill that role well for you."

And he placed a hand on your tummy, gently caressing it. "And of course the father role for the baby too."

You clamped up, totally speechless. This unexpected development made your heart soar with a heap of giddiness.

"Yes!" Your smile was so wide and radiant that Nanami was sure he had started to blush too. Then you flung yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck in a hug. "And you know... you're already the best husband and soon-to-be father ever! So you don't have anything to worry about, okay?"

Ah, how nice. Nanami chuckled as he placed his hand on the small of your back.

"Mhm, and from now on, I'll take charge of our anniversary. You only have to take it easy, alright?"

And when you giggled, he thought having you in his embrace like this was enough to satisfy him—after all, he was a simple man.

Epilogue

"I know even Nanami gets jealous! Heh, heh, heh~"

Gojo laughed crisply, and Shoko snorted as they listened to Ino recount the story, with the latter scratching his head uncomfortably.

"I really didn't mean anything, and now I feel kinda bad," the younger man said, his head dropping. "Nanami-san seemed upset too..."

"Not many things can get under his skin," Shoko remarked. "I really thought he'd be more rational, but having an expecting wife must've taken quite a toll on him too."

"Nah, don't find more excuses, Shoko! Now is time to pay up~!"

As Shoko grumbled and Ino was lost in his own thoughts, a loud cough suddenly echoed behind them.

"Gojo-san... Ieiri-san..." Nanami leveled his unamused gaze on them, his glasses glinting in the light, causing the two gulp. "What are you two doing?"

#nanami kento x reader #jjk fluff #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x reader fluff #kento nanami x reader #nanami x reader fluff #nanami kento #kento x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento fluff #kento nanami #kento nanami x you #nanami fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles #nanami x you

6K notes · View notes

bbokicidal · 1 month ago

Text

Rich & Luxurious | Chocolate Covered Cherry

Creamy, Delicious, and one hell of a mouthful.

Lee Know ☼ Smut ☼ Mentions of sex (PinV, oral, anal, etc.), Lingerie/Heels etc, Skinship ☼ The post that started it all

Hot Fudge - A sexual fantasy of his

He knows it's unconventional, but he loves the idea of having you come on tour with him so he can just fuck you whenever he wants. It's normal for all of them to have this, of course, but Minho has a huge rush of adrenaline after finishing up shows on tour. His body still buzzes with the need to move, the need to do something - and if he's honest, part of him feels a little feral after performing. And if you were on tour with him, well, then he could take it out on you, couldn't he? He's sure you'd love it; Him using you as a stress relief, as a way to get out all that pent up energy. Coming back to his hotel room just to see you already waiting for him, not even hesitating to get his hands on your body and use your body the way he likes. ~

Caramel Sauce - What he watches/listens to/indulges in to get off

Honestly, it's just a lot of regular porn - anything he can find where the thumbnail interests him and doesn't look too corny. His favorite videos are probably anything that seems a little more home-made and not super duper scripted. Also a fan of threesomes but will NEVER admit that aloud.

Strawberry Drizzle - Something non-sexual that turns him on

When you put down your phone to give him your attention. Minho likes having people's full attention when he's talking to them and it irks him a little when they half-assed listen in on the conversation, so when he realizes you are willing to drop whatever it is you're doing to listen to whatever it is he's saying -- yeah, he's a little hard.

Chocolate Chips - If he's interested in threesomes/orgys

Heavily interested in threesomes, not really big into orgys because that would mean sharing you with a ton of people and he's not into all that. If he were to include anyone else in your intimate moments together, it would likely either be Jisung or Chris.

Peanuts - His favorite position

Huge fan of anything that means he gets to see your ass. FIrst priority - your face, because he wants to look into your eyes when you're sharing moments like these together - but if y'all are feeling real nasty and using toys, doing it wherever in the apartment, etc; He's a fan of having you ride him, sit on his face, face down ass up - anything.

Candied Almonds - His favorite location to be intimate

He prefers the bedroom because it's simple and easy and it means you'll likely never really be interrupted, but he does enjoy lazy sex sometimes when he's a little more tired so the couch is a close second for some late night riding while watching movies together.

Whipped Cream - What he prefers his partner to wear during intimacy

Honestly, it's coming off anyways, so he doesn't really care; But, if you're feeling extra romantic and wear lingerie or the likes, he's not going to not enjoy it. He would love it if you dressed up for him; It could be lace, ribbon, mesh, fishnet - blue, black, red, pink, yellow - he loves it because it's on you.

Marshmallow Topping - Where he likes to be touched

He really, really loves being touched around his neck. If you rub your hands over his shoulders while the two of you makeout, he's shivering every so often just because it feels really good. But his favorite thing is when you run your hands over the junction between his neck and his shoulders - He's suuuper weak for that. It just feels so nice and it makes him move in closer to you (if possible) every time.

Cherries - His favorite toys/If he likes using toys

He's not a huge fan of toys, but if you can convince him to use a few they're probably vibrators or cock rings. Or, on the rare occasion, a blindfold. He likes teasing and edging you so the blindfold just adds to the playfully tense atmosphere. ~

Coconut Flakes - How he likes it (soft/rough/etc)

To be honest I feel like a lot of people assume Minho has a tendency to be rough and I'm all for that, but I think this man has so much composure and prides himself off of his naturally dominant demeanor; So in my opinion, as long as he has some control over the situation, he doesn't care how y'all do it. Either way he's going to make you shake, so...

Sprinkles - His favorite part of your body

Ass!!! Ass!!!!! We all saw this coming. He's just an ass lover and none of us can deny it. (But this also includes hips, thighs, everything in between ~)

Oreos - His favorite intimate act (oral/vaginal/etc)

Oral. I don't know .. why I think this but it was like an immediate answer in my brain. I just think Minho would cum so fucking fast from you letting him fuck your throat or giving him head in the morning to wake him up. I think he also just like lowkey craves your mouth whether it be on his own or on his dick.

M&Ms - An instant turn on for him

When you bend over. I don't think I need to say much more about this but I will add that he is particularly weak for when you bend over in any type of sun dress. HOO LAWD, he's ready to drop to his knees and eat you out from behind. (Pls don't wear panties, just give the man easy access..)

Reeses Pieces - His favorite act of foreplay

Kissing! Minho loves kissing you because it's simple and easy and it doesn't take up a lot of time unless you're properly making out - which he looooves to do. He loves the intimacy of it all; The way your lips mold together, the feeling of your tongue on his, the way he gets to hold onto you and touch you all over while it happens. (And he kind of loves how messy it can be, too..)

Pretzels - What position he oftens takes in bed (top/bottom/vers)

Minho is almost always taking a dominant position in bed. The only time he's not the one initiating things or being in control is when you wake him up with a special surprise or if he's particularly tired after a long day and just wants you to ride him and use him like a toy. (Rare occasion but does happen!)

Graham Crackers - His favorite part of his own body

Minho really likes two parts - His arms because recently they've been a bit bulkier than before and he's proud of how his hard work is showing off these days; And his thighs. For very, very obvious reasons. (Again, his hard work is being shown off through his physique, but also because he knows how much you love grinding on them until you make a mess out of his lap.)

Sea Salt - A roleplay scenario he wants to try

Minho honestly is pretty vanilla when it comes to sex so he doesn't put much thought into roleplay scenarios in the bedroom, but he supposes if you asked very nicely then he just might wear the bunny ears you begged him to last week in the bedroom. And that.. silly butler uniform... (This will be one of the only times you'll get him to be completely submissive simply because of his embarrassment, so make it count!)

Popping Pearls - How he sexts/If he sexts

I honestly think he doesn't have the time of day to sext you because he's busy as shit - but also, he doesn't have the attention span for it and he doesn't really see the appeal. If you send him a spicy pic, he'll relish in it and show you how much he loved it when he gets home - but over text? Just doesn't do much for him. Though, like, let's be honest; He doesn't need to sext properly to turn you on with all the sexy mirror selfies he sends your way.

#skz x reader #skz imagine #stray kids x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz fic #skz imagines #stray kids scenario #stray kids imagine #kpop x reader #kpop imagine #kpop scneario #kpop smut #lee know x reader #lee know smut #lee know imagine

564 notes · View notes

iamthatonefangirl · 2 months ago

Note

YOU WANTED more thoughts?? here i am.

mean n possessive dads best friend bucky whose always known you have a crush on him

OR (and?)

also you yapping n overthinking and bucky stopping you by fucking you

-@nevereclipse

sneaky - nsfw dbf!bucky barnes

please be warned this is... deranged. uncle kink. (not actual uncle because it's dbf) BOTH ARE FULLY GROWN ADULTS 18+ OKAY. you have been warned, read at your own discretion. series masterlist.

~~~

sneaking around with your dad's best friend probably wasn't the best idea you'd ever had.

what made it worse? every time your dad referred to him as your "Uncle Bucky." you cringed every time you heard it.

yeah, that's who he was to you your whole life. but hearing it now, knowing what you knew...

it put a bad taste in your mouth. a reminder of what you absolutely should not be doing.

but the way he fucks you isn't worth giving up just for peace of mind.

you wonder, sometimes, if that's what people who cheat on their partners think. that no matter how wrong it is, how many people you hurt, it just feels too goddamn good to give up. they're willing to go to insane lengths to keep the secret and keep their families together. they want to have their cake and eat it too.

because even though neither of you are cheating on anybody, that's exactly what you're both doing.

~~~

"fuck, that's my girl," he groans as you get down on your knees in front of him. you'd been sitting on his couch, watching something on netflix, anything, when you got carried away. only thirty seconds into the show.

maybe you're just insane, but there's something about being on your knees for him, bowing down to him, knowing how wrong this is...

he's supposed to be a father figure in your life, and what are you doing? you're blowing him with no remorse for your actions. you've done it before, and you're looking forward to doing it again.

his hands massage your scalp, encouraging you, "come on. be good. you can take it all," he says, pushing further into your throat and holding your head there, making you take it.

"love seeing you take all of me. love knowing I'm the only one who gets to fuck this little throat, huh? ain't that right? my own personal call girl?"

you nod as best you can while he holds you in place.

"yeah. my little girl. all grown up now, such a slut for her uncle, huh?"

your face warms so much you feel like you're sitting in front of the furnace. he loves rubbing this in your face, reminding you of what you're doing, forcing you to get off on it.

"that's right. you know your place, I know you do. I taught you so well."

he holds you there for you don't know how long, massaging your scalp down to the back of your neck, before bringing his hand to the front of your throat and pressing on where it bulges, thanks to him.

"my girl," he hisses. "none of those little college boys can fuck you the way you need. you needed someone you know, someone you trust, ain't that right?"

you might cry from how embarrassed and turned on you are right now.

"that's right. so needy for my cock, every fucking time, knowing how stupid you're being. you just can't get enough."

you're startled when his phone rings. he doesn't bother moving you, making you sit there while he looks down at the screen to see who it is. when he ignores it, you finally relax.

"you know I've been taking care of you your whole life, darlin'. course I'm gonna take care of you now. gotta take care of all your little needs cause no one else can, not like Uncle Bucky can."

and then, your phone rings in your pocket.

"fuck, is he calling you now?" Bucky groans.

and that's when you freak, shoving yourself off of him and falling backwards onto your ass on the floor. you reach for your phone in your back pocket.

Bucky asks you, "the hell are you doing? you're not done."

your voice is fucked when you quickly tell him, "my dad knows I'm with you! I told him we were getting dinner!"

Bucky's eyes widen. normally you tell him you're at a friend's place.

he nods and you hurry to answer.

"hey, Dad..." you try, clearing your throat, trying not to sound like you're absolutely wrecked.

"yeah, no we got takeout... yeah, Bucky's outside... yeah..."

you eventually hang up the call, both of you sitting there, startled.

no matter how much Bucky taunts you about it, it's not fun when you're reminded of the reality.

"he asked me why we didn't invite him and my mom," you tell him quietly from your spot, still on the ground.

you're both silent for a minute, the tv still playing in the background as you the awkward moment drags on and on.

you eventually both decide it's best to call it a night.

~~~

you both know better than to be reckless at this point.

but sometimes, you just can't help it.

you were trying to hop in the shower one afternoon, turning on the water, waiting for it to steam up the room. minute after minute ticked by as you stood there, naked, pleading the water to get hot.

you curse the universe when it doesn't, because it's just your luck that your dad isn't home to fix the problem.

so you shut off the water, wrap a towel around yourself, and go sit on your bed while you make a call.

"hey you, what's up?" he asks.

"can you come fix my pipes?" you tease.

Bucky stutters for a moment. "wow, that's... bold of you to say. I take it your folks aren't home?"

"you're right, they're not. but no, I'm being serious, the hot water won't turn on. can you come over and take a look at it for me?"

"yeah, sure. be over in a few."

you don't bother putting on any clothes, waiting around for the knock at the door still clad in your bath towel.

when you answer the door, you can't help yourself.

"oh, mister, however am I supposed to repay you?" you ask, pretending to be distraught, but it's ruined by the fact that you can't stop laughing as you say it.

"you're insufferable," he teases, stepping inside and yanking the towel from your form as he walks to the closet where the hot water heater is.

"hey!" you yell, reaching for the towel again.

"nothing I ain't seen before. besides, it'll encourage me to do my best work if I got an incentive for payment, don't ya think?"

that's how you end up in the shower together, hot water fixed, thirty minutes later.

he's got you pinned against the ice cold tile wall, hooking one of your legs up and around his waist. his fingers trace the skin of your thigh, his other hand behind your head to keep it from hitting against the hard wall.

"yeah, that's it. gonna let me use you, aren't you?"

"yes, yes, Bucky," you whine. he's teasing you, running his tip up and down your folds. he stares down at the sight, working you up to make you so desperate you'll do whatever he wants.

you start begging way too soon. "please, Bucky, I can't wait. please," you say, drawing out the last syllable.

he has no mercy, continuing to tease, before pulling back entirely.

"Bucky!" you cry, the only word in your mind.

"you know what I want to hear," he whispers in your ear.

he did this on purpose. he always does this on purpose, goddamnit.

"please, Uncle Bucky?"

he groans in approval, finally pushing himself into you, opening you up for him once again.

except it doesn't last long, because with the water raining down on the both of you along with the force of his motions, neither of you can keep your feet in place, and you keep slipping.

"god, least we tried," he laughs, turning off the water and picking you up bridal style to take you to your bedroom.

he barely gets the chance to lay you down when you hear the front door unlock downstairs.

you make eye contact. you're fucked, you're fucked.

"go put on your clothes. spray your shirt with the shower nozzle, tell him I sprayed you after you fixed the hot water," you whisper to him, pushing him off of you.

you both scramble to put on your clothes. Bucky does as you instructed, and you freak out when you see your sheets covered in water. you didn't bother using your towel, which clearly, was a bad move.

you're pretty sure your dad buys the excuse.

~~~

a few weekends later, your parents invite Bucky over for family dinner. he texts you before coming over, "wear a skirt for me, pretty girl."

now, as you sit at the table eating dinner, you know why.

he sits there, trailing his prosthetic fingers up and down your thigh under your skirt, all while your parents talk to him like normal. there's very little for you to contribute, so you're lucky you can focus on keeping your shit together while he messes with you, occasionally pinching your skin to keep you on edge.

"Bucky, we have something to ask you about," you hear from across the table.

his hand stops, and your jaw freezes in the middle of chewing.

"uh, what's that?" he asks them.

"we think there's something you're not telling us. and we think it's something you're both keeping from us."

you're fucked. you're done for. it's over.

"it's not what you think-" he begins, only to be cut off.

"have you started seeing someone? you've been happier lately. and knowing our daughter, she's probably already figured it out, but you've sworn her to secrecy, right?"

you let out a sharp exhale.

you're safe.

"yes, yeah. that's exactly it," he tells them, continuing to make excuses that he didn't want to say anything yet, it's still new...

his hand begins moving under the table again.

~~~

later that evening, you express a craving for ice cream.

"I'll take her," Bucky says before anyone else responds. "and I'll have her home before curfew."

you feel a pang in your chest when your dad assures Bucky, no need. we trust you with our daughter.

you know Bucky feels the guilt hit, too.

it doesn't stop you, though, from finding an empty parking lot and getting in the back seat as soon as possible.

"fuck, what would you have done if they'd found out, hmm? would you have admitted you had a thing for your uncle, baby?" he taunts, moving your hips down on his as you straddle him, riding him the way he likes.

the windows are already coated in condensation, the both of you so eager and pent up from the stress of the evening.

"no," you pant, tossing your head back.

he brings a hand to your throat, making you look at him.

"nuh-uh. you're gonna watch me while I fuck you. you're never gonna forget who it is that's fucking you like this, you hear me? I'm never going to let you forget."

~~~

when he drops you back at your house that evening, your mom asks, "vanilla?"

"I'm sorry, what?" you ask, confused.

"you get vanilla? you got some white stuff right there," she points to the corner of your lips.

you don't tell her you didn't go for ice cream.

~~~

guys I am sorry for this one... I had to

masterlist

join my tag list

bucky tag list:

@clavedelune @starfly-nicole @avengersfan25 @thewiselionessss @hextech-bros @a-book-lover-things @ruexj283 @mrsnikstan @sleepysongbirdsings @sapphirebarnes @bananababygirl10 @multiversefanfics @winchestert101 @andziabarnes @chrisevansleftnipple @daisydark @luckyhornet @maryevm @avengemepercy @mandoloriancookie @starstruck-cowgirl @doubledizzy22 @yvespecially @shereadzzz @flow33didontsmoke @blaineandergel

#fem reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky #dark bucky barnes x you #dark bucky x you #dark bucky x reader #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes #dark reader #dark bucky #iamthatonefangirl #uncle bucky

641 notes · View notes

gay-dorito-dust · 10 months ago

Note

Hello!! I have a request (Unless your requests are closed, pls ignore if so)

How would the batboys react to reader if we ignore them all day as a prank? Like we avoiding seeing them, ignore their texts , calls, etc. And even when we do see them we just don't talk to them, or look at them.

Dick

Hates it, he absolutely hates it when you ignore him as he prides himself on your attention and affection.

So the moment you deny him of your attention and affection, the man might as well have thought he died and went to hell. It was pure torture for poor Dick Grayson as he pouts and huffs like a child in order to get you to look at him, even a glance from the corner of your eye will suffice!

But no, you didn’t once look up from your phone and it wounded him gravely that he might as well consider himself dead. All he wanted from a long patrol was your kisses and cuddles but all he got was you sat on the sofa on your phone, not once looking up at him as Hayley followed him closely, more then willing to give him her attention if you weren’t going to do it.

So where poor Dick was, hugging a happy Hayley close to his chest like a comfort plushy, not minding the fact that she was breathing hot dog air in his face as he kept his eyes on you. ‘You won’t abandon me like some people will you Hayley? You wouldn’t leave daddy on his own when he needs moral support and comfort after a long day.’ Dick would say obnoxiously loud enough for you to hear.

Though you didn’t show that you could hear him as your eyes remained glued to your phone, adamant in not looking up if it meant winning this bet with Stephenie, and you were determined to win no matter what.

Dick pouts as he burrows his face into Hayley’s fur, producing fake sobbing that was so obviously faked, pausing periodically just to look over at you before continuing to ‘sob’ into Hayley’s fur once more.

Still you didn’t look up.

Dick pouted as he rested his chin against the top of Hayley’s head as she was just happy to be held by her human father, non the wiser. ‘This is going to be more difficult my sweet child, time to go to phase two.’ Dick then picked up Hayley and put her in front of your face and shouted. ‘STOP NEGLECTING OUR CHILD!’ This jolted you enough to look up and be met with Hayley breathing hot dog air in your face, realisation struck you within seconds as you realised that you had just lost the bet.

Taking your defeat with dignity, you took Hayley from dick and hugged her tightly as Dick then hugged you tightly, nuzzling his face into your neck as you ran your fingers through his hair.

‘I lost a bet for this.’ You said to no one in particular as Dick was too blissed out from your fingers running through his hair as he murmured, ‘love you too honey.’

Jason

He doesn’t bother you about it at first, thinking of it as you needing some space but the more you seemingly did this, the more Jason would wonder whether or not he missed anything important.

He didn’t miss anything, Jason rarely forgot anything about you and knew in his heart that this was just like any other day, and yet even with that knowledge it didn’t make him feel anymore at ease then he was when he first noticed that you were ignoring him.

So instead he just sits next to you, takes your phone from your hand and sets it aside before pulling you into his lap and making sure you wouldn’t be able to get away from him so easily.

‘Now I know you’re not ignoring me chipmunk.’ He said but as he expected you didn’t attempt to respond to him, but instead look down at your hands as though they were more interesting than him. Jason then pinched your side, making you jolt but it wasn’t enough to make you speak or acknowledge him in the slightest like he wanted.

Jason then lowered his head to your ear, pressing a kiss to it before speaking in a low tone. ‘Sweetheart, I don’t know who set you up to ignoring me, was it Roy?’ He asked.

No response.

‘Dick?’ He asked again.

Again, no response.

‘Please chipmunk, don’t ignore me, have I done something wrong? If I have please don’t leave me in the dark, I want to make it up to you but I wouldn’t be able to if you don’t tell me sweets.’ Jason pleaded as he kept you closer to his chest, pressing soft, tempting kisses across your face and neck as his warm hands rubbed at your side. ‘I don’t like it when my baby ignores me’. He adds. Sincerely, ‘not when I love the sound of their voice and their laugh more than anything.’

‘It was Stephanie’s idea!’ You exclaimed, not wanting to ignore your sweet and gentle Jason when he needs you most, you knew how much Jason hated when you get mad at him and give him silent treatment. You knew Jason valued communication and respect above all else in your relationship, so whatever made you think that you could get through this prank without faltering to Jason’s desire to hear you talk was beyond you.

You weren’t gods strongest soldier when it came to Jason and you were reminded of this constantly with how easily you’d do anything to see him smile, he’s already suffered enough and you didn’t wish for him to suffer any more, even if it was in due to a fucking prank hurt was still hurt at the end of the day.

‘My angel finally speaks.’ Jason teased as he kissed your lips, once, twice, three times before pulling away to rest his head against yours. ‘You had me going there sweetheart, please don’t ever do that again, just talk to me if I ever happen to upset you chipmunk.’

You latch onto him and burrow your head into his neck, peppering kisses to the scars that you found there in abundance. ‘I promise, I promise I will never do it again, I promise.’ You chanted as Jason made himself comfortable on the coach, holding you close to his chest as his hands rub up and down your back and you kept kissing his neck and jawline sweetly, making up for moments you’ve neglected him of your sweet, sweet affection.

Damian

Is petty as shit and will probably try to give you similar treatment in response.

He doesn’t have the day for you ignoring him and will continue his day as he normally would, but would find himself feeling a little hollow inside when you didn’t kiss his cheek for good luck on patrol, even if he insists he didn’t need it but still it’s not like he’d refuse you from giving him affection.

Damian likes to act he’s unaffected but he was only fooling himself at this point after having gotten accustomed to your affectionate nature, so much so that he would find himself expecting your kisses, hugs and affirming words on a subconscious level.

‘I will not stoop to your level.’ Damian said to you one day.

You looked up as though you were about to say something but decided against it and look back at the book you were reading, Damian clenched his jaw.

‘This is childish even for you my treasure.’ He tried again as he moved to stand in front of you but once again you managed to pretend that you could hear him but instead stand up after putting your book aside.

‘I think I’ll take ace and Titus on a walk.’ You said to yourself as you then proceeded to walk past him and towards the doorway, just about to reach for the doorknob, only for Damian to grab your wrist and gently pull you back until you were standing in front of him. ‘They can wait and besides you can barely keep them from dragging you across the park because they saw a couple of squirrels.’ He reminded you.

For the first time in the day you actually looked at him and pouted. ‘Hey! That was one time, I’m pretty sure I have a better grip on them compared to last time.’ You defended yourself, feeling your ego bruise a little with the reminder of how you got physically dragged by two dogs. In your defence one of the dogs in question was a Great Dane.

Damian smiled softly when you finally addressed him. ‘Stoped with your silly game have you my dear?’ He asks you rhetorically as you pouted, knowing that you now owed Stephanie money for breaking as you rested your head against his chest. ‘That was a low blow dami, low blow even for you.’ You muttered.

Damian shrugged, caging you in his arms. ‘Merely doing whatever is needed to obtain my objective.’

‘And that was for me to stop ignoring you?’ You asked as you pulled your head from his chest, eyebrow raised.

‘To stop you from continuing this childish behaviour.’ Damian corrected you in hope that you didn’t feel his hammering heartbeat.

You smirked. ‘If there’s anyone to blame for such behaviour she goes by the name Stephanie, I’m sure you’re familiar with her.’ You replied as you felt Damian’s arms tighten on you.

‘I’m very familiar with such a character.’ Damian said through gritted teeth.

1K notes · View notes

sylusxyou · 2 months ago

Note

Sylus saying reader is short/too short and we say put some inches into me then?

omg my first request and it's a little scandalous! happy to oblige :) honestly, i got a little carried away with this one. not sure if it's exactly what you were looking for, but hope you enjoy. thank you for the request! word count: 1.5k content: just suggestive, use of kitten and sweetie, short reader hehe, reader can be gender neutral and non-mc

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

You were sure that Sylus placed his most used cookware in the highest cabinets just to make it difficult for you to grab. To be fair, most of your adventures in his kitchen resulted in burnt ingredients, hand cuts, or just plain bad food. You were determined, however, to surprise him with a decent home cooked meal. Three times this week you had practiced cooking baked scallops in your own kitchen. It was Sylus’ favorite dish and also the bane of your existence.

The first two times you made it at home, it was completely inedible. The third time it actually tasted decent, but there was still room for improvement. You were sure you would get it right this time, especially with the state of the art cooking appliances in Sylus’ kitchen.

None of that mattered, however, when you couldn’t even get a baking dish down from the cabinets. Since Sylus was so tall there was no step ladder in sight. You stared up at the stack of baking dishes and silently cursed your parents for passing on their lack of height to you.

There was no other option as you were the only person in Sylus’ residence. Just as you began your climb onto the counter you heard a throat clear behind you.

“What’s going on here?” The deep timbre of his voice never failed to send a chill down your spine.

You slid off the counter and turned to face Sylus. “Why are you back so early? I thought you were going to be out most of the night.”

“Last time I checked,” Sylus began to walk towards you, “this is my home. I don’t think I’m required to announce when I’m coming and going.”

The closer he got to you, the deeper the blush grew on your cheeks. He hadn’t even said anything flirtatious or suggestive. Just his presence flustered you and he knew it.

“Of course you don’t. But now you’ve ruined your surprise.”

This made him quirk an eyebrow, “My surprise?”

Sylus was now right in front of you. You stood with your back to the counter and peered up at him. ‘Damn tall people.’

“I was going to cook you dinner.” You reached behind you to grab the recipe sheet and hand it to him. “Baked scallops. Your favorite.”

His grin was wide, filled with unadulterated joy. These were your favorite smiles to get from him. Though he never said it, you were pretty sure you were the only one who got to see them.

Sylus looked over the recipe sheet and tapped you on the head with it before placing it back on the counter. “That’s very thoughtful of you, kitten, but you don’t have to do that.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and crossed your arms across your chest. “I know you’re saying that because you don’t think I can cook something edible.”

“Can you blame me, sweetie?” He gently placed his hands on either side of your face and brushed his thumbs across your cheeks. “The few times you’ve tried to cook with me, it didn’t really end well.”

You swatted his hands away. “I’m aware of that. But I’ve been practicing.”

“You’ve been practicing?”

“Yes, you can drop the skeptical tone.” You pulled your phone out of your pocket and scrolled through your photos. When your last try had turned out decent, you decided to snap a photo. It certainly wasn’t restaurant quality presentation, but you can tell that the scallops are well cooked. You showed the picture to Sylus.

He looked at the photo and then back at you. “That’s not bad. I guess I’m willing to risk it. How long until it’s ready?”

“I haven’t even started.” You pointed up the the high cabinet where the baking dishes were stored. “You keep your dishes way too high up.”

This made Sylus chuckle, “I have to keep fragile items out of harms way. Would you like some assistance?”

“Yes, actually, I would like that.”

His large hands grabbed your shoulders and turned your around. Before you could ask what his intentions were, he grabbed you by the waist and lifted you up.

“What are you doing?” you shouted.

You could hear the smile in his voice when he replied, “Put your feet on the counter, kitten.”

You did what you were told and Sylus’ hand rested on your ass, presumably to hold you in place.

The contact burned into your skin through the fabric of your shorts. “Somehow I feel like you have ulterior motives. You could’ve just grabbed it yourself.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” His hand gave a gentle squeeze.

You tried to compose yourself as you grabbed the baking dish from the cabinet. “You can let me down now.”

“Lean back and I’ll grab you.” Sylus stretched his arms out and you slowly lowered yourself down to be cradled by him. He gently placed your feet on the ground and leaned into your neck, placing soft kisses across the length of it.

It was completely unfair how easy it was for him to make you melt. You knew you had an effect on him has well, but he was able to keep it together more masterfully than you. Just once you wanted to see him flustered.

You gently pushed on his shoulders, removing his lips from their exploration of your neck. “Maybe you should keep your baking pans in a lower cabinet.”

“I’m sorry, kitten. Sometimes I forget I’m not the only one using these spaces anymore.” Sylus ran his hands up and down your arms. “And the person sharing them with me has such a small reach.”

The smug grin on his face told you he was intentionally pushing your buttons. “I’m not that short. You’re just freakishly tall.”

“Freakishly?” He raised an eyebrow. “No need to be hostile. I’m always happy to lend you my extra inches to reach the places you can’t.”

You couldn’t keep your eyes from widening. The way he quirked his head when he noticed your expression made you wonder if he realized exactly what he just said. Sylus was no stranger to innuendo but he usually shot for something classier and less obvious. This wasn’t exactly his style. Then again, he was hardly naive and much more skilled at keeping his composure than you. Perhaps it was intentional after all and he was feigning ignorance.

Well, two could play at that game. You couldn’t let this opportunity pass you by. Usually when Sylus said something suggestive you would blush and change the subject. Now was the time to be bold if you wanted to get a reaction out of him.

You tucked the baking dish in your hands under one of your arms and ran your free hand behind Sylus’s neck, lightly dragging your nails up and down. “If you take me to your bedroom you can show me just how deep your extra inches can reach.”

There it was. It was slight but it was unmistakable. Sylus’ eyes widened just a bit, his shock at your response momentarily visible to you. He shook it off quickly, however, and dipped his head with a chuckle. “My, my, my. You have gotten bolder, kitten.”

You fought the blush rising in your cheeks now that Sylus’ composure returned to him and shrugged. “I figured it was a good chance to give you a taste of your own medicine.”

“I like it. And you know what?” Sylus grabbed the baking dish tucked under your arm and placed it on the counter behind you. “I think I’ll take you up on your offer.”

His arms caged you in between him and the counter, his face mere inches from yours. “What do you mean?”

Sylus’ voice was a low, hot, whisper against your skin. “Why don’t we skip dinner and spend the rest of the evening in my bedroom. That’s what you really wanted, right?”

“N-no!” You grabbed the baking dish from behind you and held it up in front of you like a shield. “I worked way too hard to learn this recipe. We are not skipping dinner.”

Sylus placed a chaste kiss on your cheek. “Okay, kitten. We won’t skip dinner. I would hate for your hard work to go to waste.” He backed away from you, eyes still locked on yours. “Besides, scallops are a great aphrodisiac.” He grinned at you and began walking out of the kitchen. Over his shoulder he called back, “Let me know when dinner’s ready.”

You stood in place for a few moments, your face moving from blushing to completely red. You had wanted to be bold, to make him feel this way. With hardly any effort at all Sylus had flipped the script on you. Now you were left wondering if you had started something you hadn’t intended. As you began working on dinner you couldn’t keep your thoughts from wandering to you and Sylus in his bedroom. You hadn’t planned anything for desert but perhaps you’d have some after all.

#request #ask #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace #sylus #lads sylus #sylus qin #lnds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus fluff #sylus love and deepspace

477 notes · View notes

yandere-daydreams · 10 months ago

Text

Title: Love and Care.

Pairing: Yandere!Clark Kent x Reader (DC).

Word Count: 4.0k.

Commissioned by the very lovely @distortedhumor.

TW: Non/Con, AFAB!Reader, Prolonged Captivity + Kidnapping, Spanking, Psychological/Physical Abuse, Slight Infantilization, and Delusional Behavior.

You were going to freeze to death.

That was – if you didn’t die of dehydration, first. You really weren’t sure which was supposed to work faster; thirst or exposure, the acidic dryness crawling up the back of your throat or the slow, numbing chill spreading up from your toes, your fingertips. You didn’t have to worry about hunger – even if you could feel something sharp and hollow gnawing at the pit of your stomach. You remembered reading somewhere that it took longer than a month for someone to starve to death, even if it was hard to believe that when it felt like you were on the verge of collapsing into yourself.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t been prepared. Admittedly, it’d been an impulsive thing to do, the half-baked result of a door left unlocked and the daunting awareness that you had at least twelve hours before you so much as heard from Clark again, if not the full twenty-four. You didn’t have shoes more durable than house-slippers and the delicate, lovingly polished, Mary Jane heels he liked to see you in, but you’d put on your thickest dress, stuffed a bottle of water and a few slices of homemade bread into a knapsack, and started walking into the lifeless, rolling plains that surrounded the rustic farmhouse he kept you in. You didn’t run – he always seemed to know if your heart rate spiked– but you had all day to walk until you found a road, or a phone booth, or anything else that could at least remind you that other people existed. You figured you’d come across something eventually, even if you couldn’t find the help you were looking for.

Except, you’d underestimated just how cold the countryside could get in autumn, and you hadn’t thought to ration your meager supplies until after they’d already run out, and as far as you could tell, he’d found the most vacant, lifeless, desolate corner of the world to trap you within. The hem of your skirt was caked with mud and dust, your knapsack had been left behind entirely after you realized there was no point in carrying and empty bag, and one of your heels had broken off about two miles back – leaving you reduced to a slow, hobbling limp. Your body was exhausted beyond exhaustion, but you couldn’t imagine a world where you stopped walking. The only thing worse than knowing you were going to freeze to death in the middle of nowhere would be knowing that you’d just laid down and accepted it, and if you’d been willing to do that, you wouldn’t have run away at—

Your foot caught on a dense patch of undergrowth, and too tired to catch yourself, you crumpled – your knees hitting the earth with enough force to make you whimper. The last of your perseverance crashed and shattered as soon as you hit the ground, and before you could so much as try to stand up, you fell apart completely. You felt the tears before you realized you were crying – just one, at first, then another, then more than you could ever hope to count. You threw your head forward, sniffling miserably as you collapsed onto your side. You were going to die out here, but…

But, that was probably for the best, wasn’t it? It was either die out here, or die in that lonely farmhouse when Clark finally lost his temper or the roof collapsed or the ‘villains’ he was also so worried about finally did their job and put you out of your fucking misery. With a full-fledged sob, you curled into yourself and clenched your eyes shut, and—

And of course, less than a full second later, you felt a pair of muscle-bound arms wrap around your crumpled form, sweeping you off the ground and dragging you into a broad chest. You were too weak to meaningfully resist, but still, you tried to writhe and nudge yourself out of his iron-clad hold to little success. He was already talking, too. Great. On the ranked list of things you might’ve wanted to hear immediately after accepting your own mortality, your kidnapper’s nervous babbling didn’t crack the top hundred.

As if that had ever stopped him before.

“—and I thought you’d gotten hurt, and your pulse sounded so far away, and— and I don’t know what I would’ve done if it’d taken me any longer to find you.” You tuned in mid-rambling, trying to swallow your agitation. He was bent over you, his face buried in your hair, giving his voice an unsteady, muffled quality. For the world’s strongest man, he was quick to fall apart whenever he thought you so much as might be in danger. You couldn’t really judge him for that, though. You fell apart whenever he wasn’t around, too, and you didn’t care about him at all. “Are you alright? Are you hurt? There’s a hospital about fifty miles away, I can—”

“I’m fine,” you cut in, your hands shoving at his forearm where it was barred over your waist. With an airy sigh, he repositioned you – letting you fall into a proper bridal-carry rather a fully-body tackle. You noticed, for the first time, that his feet weren’t touching the ground. He was levitating, a nervous habit that he fell back into too often to keep track of. He must’ve genuinely thought you were in danger. More importantly, he must’ve known there was no one around to see him doing something so obviously superhuman. “Just a little cold. I‘m sorry for worrying you.”

Another sigh, this one more genuine than the last. For the first time, he drew back, and you were able to see him properly. He must’ve come straight from Metropolis; he was still wearing the suit you’d seen him in that morning, his hair slightly disheveled and his glasses shoved haphazardly into his shirt pocket. You tried to breathe, not to be thankful for how quickly his inhuman warmth was ebbing away the harsher edges of your hypothermia, and for the most part, you succeeded. You felt his lips brush against your cheek, then the corner of your jaw – Clark as affectionate as he was paranoid. “Poor thing,” he muttered, haphazardly shrugging off the jacket of his suit and draping it over your shoulders. “We’ll have to get you warmed up once we get home.”

Despite yourself, you stiffened. It was over - you knew that. He caught you, and even if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have been able to go on much longer. You knew that.

And yet, you held yourself that much tighter as you asked, “…do we have to go home right away?”

Clark’s smile softened; his expression slackening is a patronizingly sympathetic sort of way. He didn’t need to answer, not really, but you still cringed when he inevitably did. “Of course, dear.” And then, with another kiss to your forehead. “How else can I keep you safe?”

You might’ve been nicer than him, after all. Rather than respond, you bowed your head and tucked yourself against his chest, shutting your eyes and blocking him out entirely. Clark only hummed in acknowledgement, flying that much higher and taking you home.

It took an embarrassingly short time to reach the farmhouse – less than a full minute, if that. It wasn’t what you deserved, but it was what you needed: a reminder that you were trying to run away from someone who didn’t have to run at all to keep up with you. Trying to escape on your own was pointless. You’d either have to find another way to get away from him or give up entirely.

Despite your constant squirming, Clark only put you down once you were inside (meaning, once the front door was locked and deadbolted with you securely trapped behind it), and you stumbled to your feet, still on the verge of collapsing. He let you struggle through all of two steps before taking you by the hand and, with that award-winning smile, guiding you through the farmhouse. “A warm bath should do the trick. Some tea, too – or coffee, to keep your blood flowing.” His eyes flickered down to the mud-caked hem of your dress, your ruined shoes. “It’s a pity. I know that’s one of your favorites.” He paused, squeezed your hand. “We’ll have to pick out another together. Maybe tomorrow, before I leave for work.”

You bit the side of your tongue, nodding along absently and letting him ramble. When you passed the staircase leading to the second floor, to your bedroom, you started to move towards it, but Clark only continued further into the house.

“Uh, Clark?” You dragged your feet as he pulled you into the kitchen. “I— Um, tea sounds nice, but I’d really like to change, first, and—”

“In a few minutes.” Another infuriating smile, another squeeze to your hand. “Do you remember what happens when you break one of our rules?”

You felt something in your throat tighten. You’d managed to forget, but it came back quickly enough. “I do, but— I was out there for a few hours, and I can’t really feel my—”

“We’ll take care of that in a few minutes, love.” He was already moving towards the kitchen table, your hand still trapped in his. “We should get this over with now.”

Trying to argue would’ve been useless. You did your best to grit your teeth, to brace yourself, but your vision still blurred as he finally released you, settling into one of the simple wooden chairs. You crossed your arms over your chest, but it did little to put a barrier between you and his prying gaze. “Do you want to undress yourself? Or do you need my help?”

Shaking your head, you fumbled with the buttons lining the back of your dress. Usually, you could manage on your own, but your hands were still numb, and you were fighting back tears, and Clark only watched you struggle for a few seconds before motioning for you to come closer. Soon enough, cotton and lace pooled uselessly at your feet, leaving you all-but entirely exposed in front of him. You didn’t need to be told to take off your shoes, kicking them into the depressing pile of fabric that used to be your favorite dress, but when it came to your panties, you hesitated, glancing toward Clark with a pleading look. “All of it,” he confirmed, with a tone bordering on apologetic. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

As if that would make you feel any better.

You sucked in a deep breath, then eased your panties down to your ankles. You’d been wearing one of your nicer pairs – white and silken, with a lace trim around the edges and a ribbon bow that was just slightly too big to be entirely inconspicuous. They were one of Clark’s favorites, even if you doubted you’d ever hear him admit something crude out loud. You could only hope you’d never see them again.

You kept your eyes on the floor as he took you by the waist and with as much effort as it might’ve taken to move a doll from one shelf to another, lifted you up and laid you over his lap. His thighs bit into your stomach as a hand found its way to the small of your back, rubbing slow circles into the base of your spine. “We’re only going to do fifteen, alright?” It wasn’t really a question, so you didn’t bother pretending you were going to answer. Clark didn’t seem to need you to. “And you know I’m doing this because I love you, right?”

That, you couldn’t get out of so easily.

“I know,” you mumbled, because that was what would upset him the least. “That doesn’t make it hurt any less, though.”

He didn’t make a sound. You wondered if he’d heard you at all, at least until the flat of his palm came down on the plush of your ass and immediately, it was impossible to think about anything at all.

It was a small mercy that he didn’t make you count. It was something he’d tried early on, the first couple of times you‘d thrown a chair through a window or stolen his phone or hoarded weapons underneath the mattress of your shared bed, but you’d never really been able to hold yourself together long enough for anything like that. You broke down too quickly, too easily – fuck, you were breaking down right now and he’d only hit you once. You could already feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, a knot welling up in the back of your throat that only seemed to let little, pitiful whimpers and miserable sobs slip by. You tried to steel yourself, to bite back any signs of weakness, but that only meant you’d forgotten to brace yourself for the second strike – just as bad as the first, centered more towards the back of your thigh than your ass. He was trying to spread the pain, to make sure any marks he left wouldn’t be permanent. He was trying to be gentle.

It was scarier than it should’ve been – knowing that he really did care about you. You couldn’t call it ‘love’, not really, not if you still wanted to be able to live with yourself, but he had to care about you, at least enough to pay some amount of mind to your well-being, at least enough for you to be sure he didn’t hate you (although, some days, you could still be convinced otherwise). He didn’t love you, but he thought he did, and the fact that he could earnestly believe he loved you and still treat you like this made you very, very afraid of what could happen if he ever changed his mind.

By the third strike, you were crying unabashedly, and by the sixth, your hands were clamped around his thigh, your nails biting into his skin in less of an attempt to hurt him and more of a desperate scramble for any kind of stability he had to offer. It was all force, no friction – a bruising, throbbing type of pain quickly spreading outward from every part of your body unfortunate enough to be under his palm. You couldn’t seem to talk, but Clark didn’t have an issue, pausing after every blow to rub circles into your bruised skin and mutter to himself. You couldn’t imagine he still thought he was talking to you. “I just worry about how you’d manage things, out there, all on your own,” he explained, his tone cloyingly sweet. Like he was talking to a child, too naïve to know any better. Like he could still expect you to believe there was anything in the world more dangerous than him. “You know I’ll always keep you safe, but I can’t be everywhere at once. It’s easier for both of us if you just—” A pause, an airy chuckle. “—if you just stay out of trouble.”

You’d lived in the city for years and never gotten into trouble, not before meeting him. Saying that felt pointless, though, especially when he was already moving onto the seventh.

Fifteen was a terrible number. If there’d been twenty or more, you might’ve been able to go numb by the time he finished, and ten or less would’ve given you a chance to preserve at least some of your dignity. At fifteen, though, the pain was still intense enough to be blistering, and you couldn’t seem to choke down your own keening sobs as Clark brought down his hand for the final blow – using just a little more force than he really had to, making sure the lesson would stick for the next couple of days, if not the next couple of weeks. He was strict, like that, despite how tender-hearted he pretended to be. If he wasn’t, you would’ve acted out more often.

You had to believe you’d act out more often.

You were still limp and crying when his arm wrapped around your waist and with a raspy, adoring sound, he sat you up – letting you straddle one of his thighs. Whatever relief you might’ve felt at the end of your punishment was immediately overshadowed by the pale, reddish tint spread visibly across his face, the feeling of something too large and too stiff pressing into your leg where it fell between his. Clark didn’t acknowledge it, and you were happy to follow his lead, melting into his hands as he cupped your face, basking in his happily provided comfort. There was a shallow exhale as he tilted your head back, pressing another lingering kiss into your forehead, before dipping lower – falling immediately to your neck. You let his lips make contact with your throat before sniffling and shifting in his lap. “Hurts, Clark,” you murmured, doing your best to make your voice that of something small and in need. “It’s not that I don’t want to, but… can we go upstairs, first?”

That was enough to snap him out of it. “Right. Of course.” There was one last peck to your collarbone before he pulled you into his arms, any thought of letting you walk on your own prematurely dismissed. You tried to go blank as he trailed through the farmhouse, not to focus on anything but the pain and your exhaustion, but your gaze seemed to catch on everything you didn’t want to see – the bowl of dough still rising on the kitchen counter, the torn dress-shirt you’d planned on mending today, a dozen tiny things that all drove their own little needles into the pit of your stomach. In Clark’s defense, the housewife shtick hadn’t been his idea, but you couldn’t say he was entirely blameless, either. When you were left trapped and alone, given nothing to do and no way to occupy your time, there was only so long you could last before resorting to household chores. It was just a happy coincidence that the byproducts of your captivity were practically identical to the kind of sugar-sweet, domestic behavior that’d always seemed to melt his heart, back when your relationship wasn’t so insidious.

At least the bathroom was warm. Still too unsteady to be trusted to walk on your own, you sat on the vanity while Clark ran a bath, staring at your hands absentmindedly as the steam started to ebb at the chill. When the tub was nearly full, he helped you into it, more than happy to make it seem like you couldn’t so much as move without his help – which, in his defense, you really couldn’t. As you sunk into the scorching water, you made a mental note not to let him touch you at all tomorrow. You doubted it would be enough to fix the damage tonight had done, but it’d be better than letting him coddle you half-to-death.

Surprisingly, Clark didn’t hover over you for very long. “I think I promised you something to drink,” he explained as he moved to the doorway, his smile suddenly sheepish. Like he had any right to be shy about what he’d done to you. “I’ll be back in a second – unless you think you’ll need a hand?”

You hesitated, but shook your head. “’m fine. I just need some time to think.”

“Not too long.” He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes prying into you for a second, then another before he turned away. “I think we should be careful about what gets into your pretty little head, for the next few days.”

And just like that, you were left alone. For the first time since he’d brought you home, you let yourself relax. The hot water momentarily dulled the pain, but without the agony to distract you, humiliation quickly took its place. You shouldn’t have let Clark take you back so easily – that only gave him more leeway to treat you like some naïve, fragile object he’d been tasked with looking after. You shouldn’t have taken your punishment so quietly, even if you doubted clawing at his legs and thrashing would’ve actually accomplished anything beyond salvaging your pride. You shouldn’t have run away at all, not if it meant triggering Clark’s paranoia, not if it reminded Clark that you’d still take any chance you saw to get away from him. You’d have to be smarter about it, if you ever to escape tried again.

(You did your best to ignore that, a few months ago, the same sentiment would’ve been followed by ‘when you inevitably tried again’. You weren’t superhuman. You didn’t always have the strength to be so delusionaly optimistic.)

When Clark did return, he was blissfully quiet and careful to keep his distance, sitting on the edge of the tub while you haphazardly washed the dust out of your hair and scrubbed the mud from your skin. Even after the water had gone cold and you’d managed to struggle to your feet, his touch remained fleeting, ginger as he bundled you in a towel and lifted you into his arms – his sudden distance no excuse to treat you like a living, breathing, capable person, apparently.

You didn’t have the energy to be frustrated. Exhausted and beaten down, you closed your eyes and rested your head against his chest, only stirring slightly when you felt Clark lower you onto a quilt-padded bed. You started to sit up, but the feeling of a hand laying over your hip was enough to stop you. When you opened your eyes, you found Clark, still standing, still staring down at you with that dazed, lovesick smile. “It’s really amazing, how someone like me could ever end up with someone like you.” He dipped lower, his lips finding the side of your throat. There was no pretense of innocent affection, this time, just his mouth on the side of your neck, his teeth ghosting over your skin. His voice was stifled by proximity, but mournfully audible. “I love you. I’m always going to love you. You know that, right?”

“I... I do.” You sounded hoarse, weak – more so than you would’ve liked. Clark nipped playfully at your collarbone, nearly breaking the skin. “I know you’ve been waiting, but—”

“Guess I’m just that impatient, when it comes to you.” There was an airy chuckle, a glint to his smile, but neither were very comforting. Again, you made an attempt to flee, and again, he found a way to keep you where you were – his hands curling around your thighs as he eased your legs apart. There was a hollow thud of body against floorboardas he fell to his knees, as he pressed yet another open-mouthed kiss into the inside of your thigh. “I just can’t help it. You make it hard for me to think straight.”

Not that he was trying to. You opened your mouth, trying to think of something that could distract him, that could convince him you just couldn’t do this, but he’d latch onto your cunt before you could spit anything out – the flat of his tongue running over your entrance while his nose ground into your clit. With your ass still blistered from your punishment and your nerves still on-edge from the cold, that was all it took for you to bolt upward – your hands automatically finding their way to his hair in a desperate attempt to pry him off of you. Of course, he didn’t budge, and of course, when he did glance up, he did it with that lovestruck expression that you’d never been able to stand. That you never wanted to see again.

That you just couldn’t seem to wipe off of his fucking face.

“Clark,” you whined, his name fractured and mangled on your tongue. “Please, I— It hurts, and I’m so tired, and I just—” You cut yourself off, swallowing harshly and trying to catch your breath. “Please, don’t.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Your heart skipped a beat, hope swelling in your chest. He melted into your palm, grinning like an idiot. “You can relax. I promise, I’ll be gentle.”

And just like that, you felt something deep in your chest crack open and shatter.

The next time he bowed his head, burying himself between your thighs, you didn’t bother trying to stop him.

You didn’t do anything at all.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere dc #dc x reader #dc imagines #superman x reader #clark kent x reader #yandere superman #yandere x you #yandere clark kent

2K notes · View notes

binmeister · 4 days ago

Text

Some headcanons for Bodyguard!Reader

Huntr/x / Saja Boys x Bodyguard!Reader

A doodle from your author parent - i can't draw men well but for YOU!!! I attempted it.

I’ve decided that Bodyguard!Reader is now my son, I have adopted you and I want to shower you with love. Let me spoil you.

have some headcanons - maybe more in future maybe not

CW: not proofread, mostly fluff, potentially considered crackfic but mainly fluff and me rambling

What’re you like?

As said in a previous post Bodyguard!Reader is hardworking, upbringing thanks to your mother made you a stickler for rules but something that differs between your mother and you is that you’re willing to change your mindset - new information that contradicts something you’re so sure of? You’ll look into it and change how you think because you’d like to think you’re a fairly flexible person

You mentally take note of things for people, whether its their interests or likes and dislikes, if you can’t remember it off the top of your head you’ve written it down in a little notebook you keep at home or you have a notes app on your phone that keeps track of little tidbits of information of the people you work with because you wanna make sure that you can treat them to something they like - it’s a small little love language

What’re your fans like?

Have you guys ever seen the way people praise IU’s bodyguard? It’s like that - your fans gush over you frequently, wishing that they could get the princess treatment that you give the girls and that they wished more guys existed like you

You definitely have a few that are.. creepy.. a little overly invasive but you’ve never personally interacted with them - they’re usually lurking in live streams and asking cryptic questions that the girls will shut down and berate them about being polite and respectful of your privacy

You’ve unfortunately got a lot of aunties that looooove you a little too much but you’ve lucked out that they’ve never pestered you at events to meet their daughters or nieces because it’s evident to them as well that you’re clearly off the market - kinda crazy to offer up their niece when you literally work with idols right?

The fans that are on the spicier side of things are surprisingly respectful, being mindful to make it hard for you to easily find any thirst posts they might make of you and even have a nickname / pseudonym that makes it easy for fans to find but not for you to find - the girls found it easily though

How do the girls mess with you?

It was basically part of their unofficial contract with you: they had to mess with you and they sure as hell loved to do it

Out of all the girls I think Zoey is the most likely to kiss you - not on the lips, usually on the cheek or forehead and there’s even been an instance where she took a photo of it where you were caught off guard and she planted a big ol smooch on your temple during one of her infamous ‘koala Zoey!’ moments

That photo was trending for a while - she had an arm wrapped loosely round your neck, hand clutching onto the collar of your shirt, her legs wrapped tight around your waist and one of your hands had instinctively grabbed onto one of her thighs to hold her weight as her other hand was outstretched with her phone to take the photo while your other hand had grabbed hers on your collar

Mira is the one that posts thirst pics of you without you knowing, when you step out from a fresh shower and your shirt is in your hand because you were too lazy to put it on in the bathroom and you’re ruffling your hair down - towel obscuring your face - oh yeah. that’s getting posted.

I think Rumi is the one to post the least flattering pics of you - though scarcely on her public profile but there’s definitely a picture of where you’re covered in marker doodles and stickers, food coma on your birthday dinner because the girls’ had been so adamant that they’re gonna treat you to some CRAZY good food, where they’re posed over top of you - peace signs and all smiles as you’re completely knocked out on the couch with an arm covering your face

Dynamics with the girls?

As mentioned before - Zoey is probably the most physically affectionate with you; she’s just got so much love to give and likes to hug the people she cares about

Frequently likes to hug you from behind because she loves how safe it feels, the comfort from your sturdy back and it was definitely not because she gets to nuzzle her face into your back muscles without being swatted away - in reality it helps ground her when she’s anxious and a little too frazzled about if she was doing too much because you simply let her, voice low and soft to ask if she’s okay and she’d just nod into your back and you’d stand there for a while to let her recharge as she needed

Mira is the roughest out of the girls in terms of personality, so often you’ll argue but never enough that it gets heated and personal but there has been a time or two where it did get personal. The family insults came out and the tension in the apartment was palpable because you could be just as stubborn as she could. But then you had time to cool off after the argument, gone to the store to clear your head and came back with her favourite ramyeon and some snacks for the other girls too as you quietly cooked up some food to hand it to Mira as your little peace offering.

You didn’t verbally apologise to each other - actions meaning more than words sometimes because you knew she struggled to express herself without sarcasm and you knew she wouldn’t hear you out if you tried to reason with her because sometimes your tendency to be passive or people please meant you were dishonest

There are times where she just wants to be in your space so occasionally there are nights where you hear your door click open and she’s just there, you nod to let her know she’s fine to come in and she’ll come in and crash on the foot of your bed or at your desk chair and just exist in your space - you two aren’t too physically affectionate with each other but this works best for you guys

When it comes to Rumi it’s a mixed bag. She’s affectionate with you and you tease her like the older brother you are, and then when you’re affectionate to her she’s complaining that you’re so gross and that eeewww why’re you so smelly?

You’re close though, there’d been many the time where you would argue back to your mother Celine in defence of Rumi - not the smartest thing you’ve ever done but it helped reassure her that you were in her corner, which means more than you’d really understand

How do the guys mess with you?

Baby takes sweet twisted joy at making you his personal steed whenever you’re working an event for them, hovers around you and tends to lean on you when he’s not able to get a free piggy back ride - there’s been a few instances where he tries to cause trouble and you pick him up by the collar of his top and physically stop him before he can do anything stupid

Abby surprisingly doesn’t mess with you that much, not intentionally at least because he just kinda enjoys hanging out with you - the only one out of the guys willing to work out with him is maybe Jinu on a good day and those windows are rare - when he does mess with you it’s mostly because he’s trying to do too much fan service which makes your job stressful when you need to make sure no one acts up and does something that could harm themselves OR the idols you’re supposed to protect

Romance is such an attention seeker when you’re around, because its a double win - he gets your attention AND he gets to make the hunter girls mad! There’s no way he’d miss such a pristine opportunity

He really likes to play up whatever imaginary injury he’s got to get Mira in trouble (cry wolf kinda kid) and at first you’d be a little sceptical and then you catch on that he’s lying but sometimes you indulge him. Hold his hand where he’s saying he got a booboo and when you feel a little cheeky? You peck the tip of his finger and say ‘there there, all better sweetie.’ in a mockingly sweet tone but it just makes him want more attention in the end

Dynamics with some of the guys?

Abby likes to wrestle with you - lives for it because FINALLY someone who doesn’t make him feel like he’s a schoolyard bully, yeah he can playfight with the other guys but it feels like he’s some jock picking on a random band geek... he feels bad about it sometimes

He’s the one that gets your number first out of the guys, but doesn’t tell anyone else that he has it, he managed to convince you to go to the gym with him and you’d both kinda just agreed to going together at least once a week - you’d become one anothers’ spotter and hype man for when you wanted to set a new PR

Jinu likes to joke around with you a lot, like a lot or just likes to strike up conversation with you. Whenever you’re at an event and he spots you he jogs over to have a chat, about what? No clue but you guys just talk about life - not even related to demons or hunters anymore just daily life and what you’re up to or what he’s up to when you’re done for the day

He judges the guys a lot when they’re being their chaotic selves and you both take turns reeling the chaotic kids together so they can behave and NOT break that piece of furniture because it’s going to come out of your paycheck and not theirs which isn’t cool

He’s the second to get your number because you both realised it’d make more sense if he could contact you directly for any schedules rather than go through Bobby and then to you, he’s respectful of not making things too personal and does mostly message you in regards to work but occasionally you’ll get a message from him asking if you just wanna hang out for a bit and go for a walk - works out pretty nicely

Baby is.. you don’t really know still. He likes to be held or carried, probably just doesn’t like having to stand if he is given the choice and it seems he really enjoys this odd power dynamic because of it. You don’t necessarily say no when he asks for a piggy back ride and he seems aware enough to not ask when you’re clearly busy or if it’s an inappropriate time - aside from the first time he jumped on without permission and no proper warning

It still happens now where he doesn’t talk to you and just goes through the motions of jumping up onto your back but usually he at least greets you first before doing so, he listens to you when you tell him off about his posture then when you turn your back he slowly starts to slouch again out of habit but it’s progress at least

Thank you guys for giving me motivation to write more for Bodyguard!Reader - it's been really fun

#kpop demon hunters x reader #saja boys x reader #huntrix x reader #bodyguard!reader #headcanons #fluff

358 notes · View notes

munsonsmixtapes · 2 months ago

Text

I'll Help You Get Over It (1)

fuckboy!eddie x fem!reader

You and Eddie are paired up for a semester long project despite hating each other and he somehow becomes your hero when things between you and your boyfriend gets to be too much.

cw: MDNI (18+) eventual smut, emotional abuse, Eddie gets punched, hurt/comfort

Inspired by the song “Just Saying” by 5 Seconds of Summer

Eddie has always hated you. Well, since freshman year, but he still thinks that’s a long time. And the thing is, he doesn’t even think he has a reason to. Your bubbly personality always drives him up the fucking wall. He hates seeing you smile because deep down, he knows that you’re just wearing a mask. You’re just as miserable as he is and he hates that you’re better at hiding it.

Eddie has been and will always be his own worst enemy. Even with all the therapy, he was never able to shake the torment he faced in Hawkins. It’s the kind of thing that keeps him up at night and he hates that it’s something that he just can’t seem to move on from. Always overthinking his actions because he’s so used to people commenting on his every move.

That’s why he’s so afraid of being perceived. Here, he can fade into the background. He can be invisible and just do whatever he needs to do even though the harsh words always seem to linger in the back of his head.

He’s always so in his head that he doesn’t seem to understand that so many of the girls on campus want to get in his pants. He always hears them giggling to each other and just assumes that they’re laughing at him. Because why wouldn’t they be? He’ll always be the freak from Hawkins.

You’re very late for class, running across campus from where you parked your car. Josh turned off your alarm yet again and of course he had to pick a fight when you were already late. And now you’re sobbing as you race to the door to the building, trying your best to hide your tear stained cheeks from everyone.

But of course, just your luck, the speed in which you’re walking mixed with you not watching where you’re going causes you to run into someone, both of you crashing to the floor. You’re quick to scramble off of him before the two of you hurry to gather your belongings that have clattered to the floor.

Eddie wants to be annoyed with you, but how can he when he catches sight of your tear-stained cheeks. You’re lowering your head even further as you apologize profusely, grabbing the pens you dropped, your phone vibrating on the floor amongst the clutter, Josh’s name and photo flashing on the screen. You’re not in the mood to deal with another gaslighting phone call so you turn it off completely before pocketing it.

He goes to help you stand up but when he looks up to make eye contact with you, you’ve already disappeared down the hallway and he supposes that he deserves it. He wouldn’t blame you for being afraid of him. Everyone is.

So he puts his earbuds back in and heads down the hallway to class. It’s a new semester and this is the class he’s been looking forward to all year. The entire thing is going to be based around a project and he’s just hoping that whoever his partner is willing to pull their own weight.

He enters the room and has to keep himself from rolling his eyes when he sees you sitting in the front row. Of fucking course. And just his luck, that’s the only spot that’s open. He hurries into the room and takes the seat next to you, trying to prevent letting out a loud sigh.

You’re fucking everywhere and it drives him crazy. Always in his line of sight with your stupid fucking smile and how you’re always saying “hi” to him when he couldn’t make it more clear that he hates your fucking guts.

You know that Eddie doesn’t like you and you can’t stand it. That’s why you’re always going out of your way to speak to him, to be nice. Because being a people pleaser to your core, so someone not liking you is a concept that’s so hard to grasp. The hardest pill to swallow.

And you always want to know why even though you know there’s never really an explanation. But you still want him to tell you even though you’re positive that you’re not going to like the answer. Everyone likes you-well, at least you think they do. You hope. No one’s ever outright told you so and that’s why it bugs you so much that Eddie is so forward about his dislike.

You pull out your notebook and a pencil and see that Eddie is struggling to find his, which doesn’t surprise you since his backpack is jammed full, stuffed to the brim with crumpled pieces of paper, empty chip bags and his laptop that’s covered in stickers.

You tap him on the shoulder and he turns to you, seeing that you’re offering him one of your pencils and he begrudgingly takes it, muttering under his breath as he stuffs his trash back into his backpack.

He knows he should be listening to whatever is being said by the professor, but for whatever reason, he can’t focus. All he’s thinking about is the damn pencil. He’s been nothing but a dick to you for three years and you’re still so nice to him. You handed that pencil to him with your sugary sweet smile and he swore he could feel his frozen heart melt just a tiny bit.

He turns to look at you and of course you’re taking notes. And of course your handwriting is so neat and tidy while his always looks like a doctor’s. Most of the time, he can’t even decipher what he’s said.

You can feel Eddie looking at you but brush it off. You feel like he’s staring even though you’re afraid to look. You’re sure you’d just be met by a glare and you don’t have time for his childish games. He can fuck around all he wants but you have a degree you’re working towards.

Guys like Eddie never take anything seriously and that’s what bugs you. You know he got a scholarship and he never even seems appreciative of it. You would have loved to have something like that, but now you’re up to your ears in student loans and go to bed crying every night about it while people like Eddie don’t have a damn care in the world.

Anger is bubbling up inside you and you don’t even realize how hard your pencil is pressing into the paper until the led snaps. You push down on the top to make more come out but it looks like that was your last bit. You try not to panic and reach into your backpack only to find you actually have no more led. Just your fucking luck. You’re about to ask if it’s okay to record from your phone when your other pencil rolls across your desk, only stopping when it hits the spiral of your notebook. You look over and Eddie just shrugs before turning back to face forward.

“Don’t you need it to take notes?” You ask and he’s quick to shake his head.

“Nope, I store it all up here,” he says, referring to his mind. You roll your eyes and continue to take your notes and Eddie smiles to himself, kind of liking to see this side of you.

According to the professor, you’re going to be working pairs and the entire semester, you’re going to present two songs apiece that the other has not heard and you’ll each write about your interpretations about the songs. The whole project is supposed to show how people can interpret the same song differently.

And when he calls out yours and Eddie’s last names one after the other, you can’t help but feel like it’s some cruel joke being played on you. Of course you’re being paired up with the one person who won’t do their work. You’re going to be stuck doing it all by yourself the entire semester.

You wonder if there’s a way out of it and you know that Eddie is probably thinking the same thing so hopefully there will be no hard feelings. This class is really important to you and clearly he doesn’t care so you’d rather have a partner that would also put in the effort.

But you decide that you’ll do it next class since you’re going to be late for work. Your manager is already really weird about you being only a few minutes late so you’re really not trying to push it.

When you get to your car and go to plug your phone in, you realize that it’s still off, but you decide to keep it that way. You want to be free of Josh, just for a little while. You just hope that he gets the hint and leaves you alone even though you know he probably won’t.

You sigh and make sure you have your vest before making the drive to the arcade. You hate every fucking second of it, letting your mind swirl with thoughts of Eddie and how of course you’re paired up with him for this project. It’s just your fucking luck. The one person who you’re sure won’t pull his own weight so you’ll end up doing all the work and he’ll get credit for it when it’s presented to the professor. At this point, you’d actually rather do it all so you don’t have to see his stupid face outside of class.

You hurry into the arcade, praying that you’re not late and make a beeline for the break room where Steve is punching out and Robin is on her lunch break. You don’t have to look at them to know that they’re giving you pitying looks, hoping, praying that you’ve finally broken up with Josh.

You punch in as Steve is punching out and you feel his hand rest gently on your shoulder, giving it a sympathetic pat. You know he means well, but you don’t want his sympathy. You already know that your boyfriend fucking sucks and are tired of everyone telling you as much.

But you give him a wide smile, putting on a mask to hide how miserable you really are. You feel like you should tell them the full story but you know that it would somehow get back to Josh and you’d hate for him to say something, especially since he’s already been trying to alienate you from your friends.

You wordlessly put on your vest and grab a walkie talkie before heading out onto the floor to the prize counter where you’re always put. You stand there, being brave and finally turning your phone to see that of course, there are multiple texts, calls, and voicemails from Josh. All of the texts of course use very colorful language, calling you all the names in the book.

You let out a loud sigh as you close your eyes, wishing that everything could go back to the way it was. You wish he would be sweet all the time instead of when he decides that you deserve it. You really wish you could get the courage to break up with but there’s something that keeps bringing you back but you have no idea what.

Now you’re regretting letting him track your location, just knowing that he’s going to show up any minute. You go into your phone and turn off your location quickly before turning the device off again and putting it by the register so it’s out of sight out of mind.

You take another deep breath, turning to face the counter and putting on a wide smile that makes you seem more approachable. You glance around the arcade, waiting for someone to come up to the counter to claim a prize. It’s a Tuesday during school hours so the place is practically empty, the only sounds that can be heard are from the games that will inevitably give you a headache by the time your shift is over.

You stand there without anyone coming up to the counter for hours, wishing you had brought in the book that’s sitting in the passenger seat. You watch time slowly tick by on your watch and wish there was something you could do to occupy your mind since the only thing swirling around in it is Josh and how terrified you are to see him after you get home from work.

He would never hit you but the emotional abuse is enough to break you little by little. In his mind, everything is your fault. You’re the one who made him late for work when he’s the one who overslept. You’re the one who has to buy more milk even though he drank the last of it. He’d rather die than take blame for anything he’s done, especially when it comes to his mistreatment of you.

You only have about ten minutes of your shift and your heart begins beating rapidly in your chest as it gets closer to time for you to leave. This and school are your only safe places where you have protection. At home, there’s no one to help you. You’re defenseless against Josh’s evil words. You remember a time where you were so excited for him to come over, but now it’s become something you dread.

“Eddie! Eddie!” Your head turns in the direction where the voice is coming from as it pulls you out of your thoughts and you see none other than Eddie Munson head over to the counter carrying more tickets than you think you’ve ever seen in your life. A girl is trailing behind him, saying his name over and over but he seems to have tuned her out. So this must be his flavor of the week.

You wordlessly take the tickets from him and feed them through the counting machine, trying your best not to listen to their clearly private conversation, but it’s hard not to when they’re standing right in front of you.

“Listen, Rebecca,” he says, finally turning to face her. “What we had was fun, but it’s over now.” The words come out like he’s said them many times before and you know he has.

You’ve heard about this exact conversation over and over in the locker room at soccer practice. Eddie has a reputation around campus, always moving onto the next person without even a second thought. He uses these women to get what he wants then throws them away like they’re garbage. And now you’re forced to spend the semester with him, vowing that you will never be one of them even if you do eventually get the guts to break up with Josh.

“So you’re dumping me?” You can see tears welling up in your eyes and you feel so sorry for her. You just know that she was looking for more than just a hookup and that she’s not going to get it.

“I can’t dump you if we weren’t dating.” He turns to face the counter, looking you in the eyes to let you know that he’s ready to know how many tickets he has.

Rebecca’s glares at him for a few seconds then stomps off, now leaving you and Eddie alone. You let him know how many tickets he has and he tells you what he wants his prize to be, seemingly completely oblivious to the way you’re looking at him.

And if he knows how you’re looking at him, he doesn’t say anything, just smirking at you which you most likely think is because he likes watching you do stuff for him, forced to be nice to him because you’re on the clock. And this is just what you needed, having to cater to the needs of the one person you dislike most. Just when you thought your day couldn’t get any worse.

“What? No smile today?” He asks, putting on a dramatic pout and you don’t know why that’s your breaking point, but it is. Eddie always somehow manages to get under your skin in the worst ways and drive you crazy. For once, you’d just like for him to leave you alone, but he always insists on pushing your buttons and you have no idea why. Why he’s chosen you as his victim when you’ve already got other things going on.

“Can’t smile when I have nothing to smile about,” you reply as you begrudgingly set the stuffed bat that you’ve been saving up tickets for on the counter with a defeated sigh. You already had a name picked out and everything. Now you just want to go home and take a long shower to wash this shitty day off of you.

“What’s going on?” It seems like a genuine question and you can tell it is when his brown eyes soften, that little sparkle of mischief that’s usually there, completely gone.

“It’s-”

You’re about to tell him that it’s nothing, but your sentence is cut off when the front doors of the arcade fly open, Josh stomping through them. You quickly crouch down behind the counter before he can see you, feeling tears well up in your eyes as you hope and pray that he won’t find you. Here, you’re safe. At least for now.

Eddie’s confused at first, but when he takes in the tall, angry man making a beeline for the counter. His eyes are filled with rage and Eddie doesn’t know why, but he feels the need to protect you from this guy, whoever he is. He’s assuming that he’s your boyfriend and he doesn’t like his intentions.

“Have you seen y/n?” Josh asks and Eddie crosses his arms over his chest, trying to size the guy up even though he’s got at least six inches on Eddie.

“Who’s asking?” He replies with a confidence he’s never had before even though he’s close to shitting his pants because the guy would definitely be able to flick him across the room if it came down to it.

“None of your fucking business,” the stranger spits back. He doesn’t see why it’s any of his business why he’s looking for his own girlfriend.

“It actually is my business. Because y/n is my friend and I don’t like you.” That part is true. Eddie has seen the two of you on campus more times than he can count and every time, this guy has been yelling at you and Eddie always has to leave when he sees you cry.

“Well it’s a good thing I don’t give a fuck about what you think. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go look for my girlfriend.” Josh steps to the side and Eddie follows to block him from looking behind the counter.

“I think I saw her head to the bathroom,” he says and Josh glares at him in response.

“Was that so fucking hard?” He huffs before heading in the direction of the bathroom and as soon as he’s gone, Eddie heads behind the counter to help you to your feet. You look up at him and see that he’s just as panicked as you are as he pulls you out from behind the counter, the two of you making a beeline for the break room so you can clock out and the fuck out of there.

Eddie’s arm wraps around you protectively as he acts as your eyes, surveying the building for Josh so he can handle him if it comes down to it. You don’t make it far though, as you're the one who spots Josh across the way at the skee ball machines, so angry that you’re convinced that his head is going to explode.

When he marches over, everything slows down, gets quiet, the machines now silent as Josh grabs hold of Eddie, muttering something you can’t hear before punching him square in the face and all you can do is gasp in response. Eddie gets his own punch in and Josh goes in for another but Steve pulls him off of Eddie before he can.

You make a beeline for Eddie not only to check on him, but to thank him, but Robin appears by your side, saying something to you that you can’t hear as she leads you towards the entrance of the building.

She gets you into her car since you’re in no place to drive and helps you buckle your seatbelt for you, letting you know that she’s clocked out for you and that Steve is going to handle the situation, that there’s no need to worry. But that’s all you’re doing.

You just nod and let your mind replay the image of Josh punching Eddie over and over as she drives you home. Tears are streaming down your cheeks as you come to the realization of just how evil your boyfriend is. Treating you horribly is one thing, but hurting others for associating with you is another.

You hate yourself for not stopping him but you were scared, in shock, and everything was happening too quickly. And Steve got there just in time so it’s all okay. But you can’t help but wonder what would have happened if he hadn’t. Knowing that this would be a very different situation and that you’d probably be at the police station by now if it had escalated.

Before you know it, Robin is pulling up to your house and after greeting your parents, she gets you up the stairs and tells you that she’s going to stay the night which you’re grateful for. You don’t think you can handle being alone right now and you know that she knows that.

You let her borrow some pajamas and you both change before crawling into bed, Robin holding you as you sob in her arms before eventually falling asleep, knowing now that you have to leave Josh no matter what it takes.

part two part three

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader

439 notes · View notes

furioussouls · 4 months ago

Text

LADS boys as strict professors who only have a soft spot for their wife

with [chubby reader]

Warnings: tooth- rotting fluff, chubby fem! reader

Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me, they are from the game "love and deepspace" by InFold. All lore references and worldbuilding belong solely to the creators.

requested by a sweet anon (hope it lived up to your expectations :3)

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡

Xavier:

Xavier's students know their professor to be the best hunter to ever exist; he was agile, capable, strategic, strong and yet gentle in the face of danger. He's open to every single question, he won't make you feel bad about yourself for asking even the most obvious questions and adds enough physical practice to balance out his thorough lectures. However, he's also one of the more intimidating professors that teaches the new generation of hunters; he'll disarm threats in the blink of an eye while his face remained the same neutral expression. His students have never seen a person fight as well as he has. He's not the type of man you'd want to piss off. Sometimes when they're staring into his emotionless face, they feel an icy shudder run down their backs.

Xavier stood in front of his students in his usual business casual attire and explained the proper strategy of defending oneself in a battle where everything seemed hopeless.

"Let's assume you're in the middle of a battle and you're too exhausted or hurt to continue, what's the next step? Yes, you." Xavier nodded at one student, who was raising his hand.

"You need to try to adapt your fighting style to your current level of exhaustion and you must-"

"No", Xavier interrupted the student quietly and looked through the room to find somebody else willing to participate but nobody else raised their hand. Xavier sighed softly and ran his hand through his blonde hair.

"Retreat. If you're too exhausted to keep fighting, you must retreat. If you're unable to because you're surrounded or in the middle of a dangerous situation- trust in your partner. They're supposed to back you up and be dependable."

His students looked at each other in confusion. Trust your partner? That's the answer?

One student raised their brow and hesitantly lifted their hand. Xavier noticed the hand and perked up. He took off his round glasses and pointed with them to the student, who raised their hand.

"Excuse me if I'm overstepping, Professor, but who was your partner?" The student asked some of the other ones looked up at him curiously.

"Ah", Xavier exclaimed and slowly blushed a beet- red. The sides of his mouth tugged up until his mouth split into a soft grin. His pearly white teeth were exposed and he scratched the back of his neck. "Well, that would be my wife. We were partners- I mean we still are. But in more ways than one now." He stammered and cleared his throat.

"Is she a good hunter?", asked one student.

"Oh yes, she is. She's so capable and strong, cute as well. Our fighting styles complete each other so well and we always depend on each other during battles. It's a great feeling to trust your partner this freely." He gushed with a soft smile. He opened up his phone and showed the lockscreen picture of you; it was your cute chubby self wrapped in the lanky arms of Xavier.

Some of his students giggled, which caused Xavier to blush and clear his throat. He put his phone away and continued with his lecture. The students that believed Xavier to be the craziest alpha male hunter are now upset that their hero is nothing more than a little puppy for his wife.

Zayne:

Zayne stood in front of his nervous students. He was dressed up in a suit, not one bit out of place; his black hair sitting perfectly, his black tie sitting smugly against his chest. Even his shoes were clean and polished. He really was as perfect as people made him out to be. He was one of the youngest cardiac surgeons at Akso hospital and is holding lectures about the human heart. Zayne sighed and pushed his glasses closer to his face with his long, scarred fingers.

"I understand some of you had questions about the assignment", said Zayne, his voice soft and deep.

One student hesitantly raised their hands and swallowed when Zayne raised his hand toward him and nodded. "Well the material is a bit.. difficult to understand, since we're only in our second semester."

Zayne tilted his head and seemed to consider his students words, his eyebrows furrowed so hard that a wrinkle formed in between them. The student swallowed, he hoped he hadn't ruined his chances with one of the most influencial doctors of his time.

"I understand the feedback, but I am not sure how much easier I can make it for you. The material is very limited. I shall look for better ones but I can't promise-", a soft knock interrupted Zayne and he turned towards the door.

"Excuse me, Professor Zayne?", your round body walked through the door with a bento box. Zayne's strict face softened immediately and he called out your name. "What are you doing here?", he asked you softly as his cheeks bloomed into a soft pink. You handed him his bento box and told him that you would go on a mission for a few days and that you wanted to see him off in person.

Zayne swallowed and the side of his mouth gently tugged up as he looked at the box. "Thank you very much, dear."

Dear? His students jaw dropped and they looked at each other in disbelief. Did that just really happen? Did Dr. Professor Zayne just call you dear while blushing? You waved at the students and they waved back at you incredulously.

Zayne cleared his throat and nodded "We were just talking about the assignment I assigned. Apparently it's.. too complicated."

You raised an eyebrow at him "Well, I hope you took their criticism seriously. I'll be off then. Have fun, guys", you winked at them and walked out the door.

Zayne cleared his throat and smoothed over his shirt after he sat his bento box down on the table. "I'll find some easier reading material for you and readjust the difficulty level of the assignment", he agreed softly and smiled at your lunchbox.

His students chuckled amonst themselves. Hopefully you'd drop by more often. They certainly wouldn't mind.

Rafayel:

Rafayel stood in front of his students' paintings and examined them with furrowed eyebrows. He hated this process, because art is not something that can just be graded like any other subject. It is deeply individual and personal to everybody and it feels wrong to grade such personal pieces. However, he is so damn bored with all these pieces. They're all missing that little something, of course all of these drawings are objectively good; a nice understanding of colour theory and shadows and applying different techniques and methods. All of it was good, but it was artficial and it felt too clean. Not authentic enough.

Rafayel sighed and raked his beautiful hands through his fluffy hair. He closed his eyes and tilted his head toward the ceiling.

Some of his students rolled their eyes at his familiar dramatic antics and others gulped and fidgeted nervously with their fingers. They all knew of Rafayel, of course. He was one of the most popular artists of his time and his works are phenomenal. It would be horrible if a brilliant man like him were to tell his young, sweet students how horrific their art is.

Rafayel stood up and walked through the room. He was as graceful as a gazelle, his button up shirt tugged neatly into his black pants.

"All of you have passed, you were all good.", he exclaimed in a bored tone.

The fidgeting stopped and the students looked up at him with in shock. "Really?"

"Yes. All of you have a great understanding of your preferred style and you did well", he yawned and turned to face all of his students "However, I'm not impressed. You have all passed this final, so create something better for me. This one won't be graded and it has no deadline. Just create something for me, something that really inspires you. Not something you can just paint well. Find a muse and paint it multiple times in different art styles and mediums, let your creativity flow. None of my students will turn out to be just a conventially acceptable artist." Rafayel shuddered at the thought and looked at the faces of his students.

One of them raised their hand "What would be a good example of a muse?"

Rafayel hummed and tapped his finger on the table "Anything you want; music, sadness, your dog, nature, your fashion style... people. My muse would be my wife." Rafayel smiled softly and rummaged through his bag. He pulled out his notebook and revealed you; he painted and drew you in many different art styles, backgrounds and positions. Your plush body always wore a soft blue gown, and your hair was styled the same way. His art looked real. Not necessarily because he was painting you in Realism, but more because of thelove and passion he felt for you.

Rafayel smiled softly and gently stroked over the pages. "This is what I want from you."

Sylus:

Sylus was a business professor. He wasn't necessarily a mean professor, but my god was he intimidating. Sylus stood in front of his students in his all black outfit. His piercingly red eyes stared into the crowd and he smirked softly.

"Hmmm", he hummed, his voice husky and gravelly. "Nobody knows the answer to my question?

"I thought it might be answer a)", a voice squeaked out and Sylus checked his notes and nodded at the student. "Very good, thats the right answer."

Sylus knows he comes off as a strict man, he really isn't though. He's also a very forgiving grader but he also knows his attitude comes off as intimidating to his students, even if he doesn't mean to be.

Sylus' phone chimed three times and he looked down; 'My sweetie' was calling. A bright smile spread on his face and he turned to his students "Excuse me, it's my wife. Hello, sweetie. Yes, I folded the laundry before I left. It should be on your bed. I left some of them on the heater so your sweater would be warm and cozy for you. Yes, the oversized one. You're welcome, honey. How was your day so far? Oh, good. I saw you packed me lunch before you left, thank you. You're the best wife one could ask for. Oh what I'm doing right now? I'm supposed to hold a lecture and answer questions", A few beats passed and Sylus chuckled deeply at your embarassed and quick rambles and turned to his students. "Alright, alright. My wife says I'm supposed to hang up now, so I'll do that. Goodbye, sweetie. I'll see you later. I love you", he hangs up his phone and smiled.

"She sounds lovely, doesn't she? I hope you all will experience the love that she has for me." Sylus said dreamily and looked back down on his answers. "Does anybody know the answer to the next question?"

Some of his students looked at each other and giggled loudly. More students started to participate during his lectures now and Sylus thankfully fell into a more comfortable rhythm with his students, and it was all thanks to you. You make everything better, you seriously do.

Caleb:

Caleb is a Professor of Flight Engineering and is licensed to give his students their pilot certificate. He is known as "the iciest Pilot and Professor" amongst his students. He teaches them both the practical and the theoretical experience that they need. Caleb is not a mean Professor, but he's definitely a strict one. He allows no disrespect towards himself or any of his students and expects his students to give their best at all times. If that "best" is only 60%, then he'll only expect 60% from you, but nothing less.

Caleb stood in front of his exhausted student. He stared at him neutrally, but not unkindly and asked "What's this piece of the engine called?" Caleb pointed at the tiny piece of metal.

His student sighed, his shoulders sagged and went back into the push-up position.

"20 push-ups, this time. You can do better than this, next week I'll ask you the same questions so study harder, alright?", Caleb turned around and asked his other students the some questions as well.

The same student walked in the park later in the afternoon with his girlfriend. He looked around and pointed at two people "Look, babe! That's my Professor Caleb." Both of them walked towards Caleb and his student's jaw dropped.

Caleb was... smiling? His lips were stretched into a bright smile as he twirled your thick body around. He looked up at you and grinned like a lovesick fool, his eyes only one step away from turning into two little hearts. Your hand was wrapped around his necklace and you pulled him closer to you like a dog and he chuckled and buried his face in your shoulder. Calebs nose gently traced along your collarbone and his strong hands wrapped around as the warm spring breeze gently drifted over your hair. The sun shone over the both of you and lit your faces up. The two of you looked straight out of a painting.

Caleb noticed his student and smiled at him and his girlfriend "Hello". You turned around and smiled at the two as well and looked up at Caleb in confusion. "That's my student", Caleb explained and kissed your forehead. You smiled and them and held out your hand "Hi, I'm his wife."

His student looked at you incredulously and shook your hand.

641 notes · View notes