#and that we don’t expect a certain body type of him

[electric-friend]

WANT CON TO STOP TALKING ABOUT NOT EATING CAKE IT’S ACTUALLY MAKING ME SO SAD

[princessbrunette]

babydaddy!rafe was doing one of his weekly visits.

he was on the phone when he walked in like he owned the place, because well — technically he did. he’d practically handed you one of his families properties the second you got pregnant and refused to live at the ever dysfunctional tanny hill. he figured it was an investment, he was certain it wouldn’t be long before he was living there with you too anyway. you however, was making that plan very hard to come to light.

“just have my shit, alright? you— you know i could have someone else do your job in a second alright so, prove your worth to me… okay listen i gotta go— at my gir— uh, at my fuckin’… the mother of my daughters house. so i gotta go. email me.” he’s got the phone pressed to his ear between his cheek and shoulder as he counts a wad of money, almost in a caricature of himself. you bite your lip, awaiting him to finish up as you lead him to your room where your baby had just fallen asleep.

“hey.” he drawls with a small smile as he addresses you, pressing the cash into your hand. he did this every week, and at first you refused it — but he’d just transfer it to you on your bank app, not taking no for an answer, so you gave up fighting.

“hi.” your fingers brush his as you take it from him. “i tried to keep her awake to see you, im sorry. she had a late night.” you inform apologetically in a hushed tone, watching her father scroll over with a shrug, brushing a gentle hand over her tiny head, bending over to press a kiss to her cheek. she stirs but doesn’t awaken, the familiar touch and smell of her father not disturbing enough to remove her from her sleep, at peace. this makes your heart ache. your little girl knew her dad too well.

“yeah, that’s alright.” he stands back up, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he looks around the bedroom. you were always doing something new with the way you decorated, so he glances around — looking for something to use to converse with you. his face falls as his eyes land on something. now this, wasn’t the type of conversation he was looking for.

“who’s uh, who’s jacket is that?” he scratches his cheek, already holding that accusatory look in his gaze as he nods towards your vanity chair.

you turn, staring at the jacket, and at first your mind blanks. there was a few seconds where you did actually have no idea. all you knew, was that it was obviously a man’s jacket, hung almost domestically on the back of your chair like it was apart of the decor. rafe had already decided it looked too comfortable there.

“uh…” you frown, and when he walks over and plucks it up between his fingers — tossing it demonstratively onto the bed without a word. when you get a good look at it, your face suddenly lights up in recognition. like you said, the baby didn’t sleep too well last night — meaning you didn’t sleep too well. you were a little slower than usual.

“oh! its the electricians. yeah, it was hot so i took his jacket for him. he must’ve left… it.” your voice trails off when you see the look on rafe’s face. he’s squinting out a glare of disbelief, releasing a scoff when you finish talking.

“you really expect me to buy that line of shit? the electrician?” he drawls, stepping towards you.

“why would i lie? plus we — we aren’t even together—”

“hey.” he interrupts and your eyes skip towards your sleeping baby in the cot and your breath hitches.

“rafe not here, c’mon she’s asleep i don’t want her to hear us like this.” you plead and he licks his lips, glancing round at the cot before nodding towards the door, lugging his big body into the hallway. you sigh, checking on your girl before following him out, crossing your arms. “rafe.”

“so i pay for this house, i bring you money every week, and you got the nerve to have other guys in here? around my little girl? around you?” he tilts his head, crowding your space, voice more hushed now. you hate how your body reacts to him, instantly heating a little. as toxic as it was, hearing him act territorial told you that he still cared immensely and wouldn’t suddenly get bored and leave you to your own devices. your lashes flutter a little as you exhale and it doesn’t go unnoticed. “you do it to make me jealous? huh? ‘cos i can’t — i can’t imagine that there’s anyone out there that’s lookin’ after you like i am— alright, who’s gonna pay those fuckin’ bills for you hm?” he takes a step closer and your eyes practically glaze over when your bodies brush one another. he takes the incentive to reach forward and put his hand up your silky night gown, cupping your cunt. of course, no panties. “whos gonna fuck that needy lil’ pussy if it’s not me? huh? nah really, tell me?” he tilts his head, talking all low right in your ear making you mewl.

“it really was the electricians jacket!” you squeak, gripping his shirt in your clenched fists. you were so pent up.

“you swear?” he licks his lips, eyes wide as they stare into your own.

“on my life, rafe.” you breathe desperately, and he knew you wouldn’t ever swear on your life if you didn’t mean it. it was just the kind of person you were. he takes his hands off you, holding them up as he licks his lips, eyeing you over.

“alright… a’ight i’m sorry. just had a long day.” he apologises, seeming like he’s taking a moment to catch his breath. you continue to stare, thighs subtly shifting together. “you got that baby monitor?” he blinks.

you nod frantically, knowing it was turned on most times. rafe rubs at his jawline, looking around before nodding in the direction of the living room. “right. okay… go lay down on that couch. s’clear you need something from me.” he commands with no room for argument before sauntering off ahead, adjusting himself in his pants.

[noctiva]

Toby and reader with a massive breeding kink,,, it doesn’t matter if they actually want a kid or not, every time they fuck its just endless dirty talk about how toby’s gonna put a baby inside them,,, thinking thoughts,,,

- 🔌 anon

okay. the people have spoken and this is definitely the most anticipated ask I’ve received so far LMAO (…you nasties)

also, this is the last request im posting before I post sweet thing pt.2!

here we go!

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Fulfillment

Toby Rogers x F!Reader

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WC: 6.5k

Summary: You and Toby don’t want kids. This was a fact that you had established long ago, at the very beginnings of your relationship. But, well… A girl can dream.

CW: 18+ content, explicit sexual content, breeding/pregnancy kink, unsafe sex, praise kink, hair pulling, spit and drool, wet and messy, sweaty nasty sex lol, possessive behaviour, absolutely filthy dirty talk, creampie (duh!), multiple orgasms, oral sex (female receiving), size kink ig?, Toby’s got a big dick (it’s what he deserves)

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For any german, just highlight then click translate! <3

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NSFW under the cut! Minors do not interact!

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You and Toby don’t want kids.

This was a stipulation that was brought up pretty early into your relationship, and was also something that you had been expecting before he had even said anything.

It just… Didn’t make sense. Not in the universe that you lived in. One where your chosen partner was a dangerous, wanted criminal. Leaving for hours - sometimes days - at a time, only to return covered from head to toe in blood and gore. His mental state, was also spotty. You loved him dearly, but you wouldn’t sugarcoat that fact either. Toby was prone to bouts of mania and depression, having to live his day to day life with an already fractured mind strained more by the influence of the entity he served.

That was simply not an environment for a child to be born into. To grow up in. You think it would be cruel, to force them into a life so isolated. So rocky, and filled with uncertainties. You had chosen that for yourself. You had consented to all of the troubles and constraints that came with sticking by Toby’s side. Your unborn child, would have no say in any of that.

And you could only assume that if they did have the choice, they’d decline. It took a certain kind of person to fall into this way of life so willingly.

So, no kids. That was alright. You weren’t the type of person who had grown up fantasizing about it - being a mother, raising a little version of you - and so it wasn’t all too detrimental when Toby had told you it wasn’t in the cards. Of course it wasn’t. You hadn’t gotten into a relationship with a literal serial killer, expecting to domesticate him. That would be like, trying to train a wolf to be an obedient dog.

You were okay with all of that. The risk and thrill was what had drawn you to Toby in the first place. The excitement, the danger. All things that having a child definitely didn’t fit into.

But… It never hurt to dream.

You thought about it, sometimes. What it would be like. To carry his child, belly growing rounder and rounder by the day - body swelling as the product of your love grew within your womb. Looking in the mirror, knowing that it was him that did that to you. That it was his child in there. Feeling it kick, trying to contain your excitement at that little proof of life within you.

A pipe dream, but you couldn’t help but indulge. Luckily, neither could Toby.

Actually, if anything, he was worse than you. Which was funny, because he was the one that was so adamant about not having children in the first place.

But he just couldn’t help it. Was it hormones? Something primal, deep within him? Maybe, you were his soulmate, and so his body wanted nothing more than to stake a claim on you that no one else could.

He wanted to watch it happen. You, growing with his child every day. You, so round and plush and beautiful - waddling around the cabin, body so sore that you can’t help but depend of him for anything and everything. He wanted to see you change, wanted to feel it as you grew more and more sensitive by the day, your body pushed to its limits simply for the purpose of bringing forth his child into the world.

You would be so, undeniably his. You already were, but the visual… It would really bat it home. Going about his day, catching a glimpse of you, and being slapped in the face with the fact that you were his. His woman. His life.

He was possessive. He would admit that easily, because he knew it was the truth and he wasn’t ashamed of it. You were his. His sweet girl. His darling. If anyone even came close, his fingers itched with the need to shove them a few feet back. He’d love it, if no one even questioned it anymore.

Couldn’t question it. Because how could they, when you were carrying his baby?

But again, that was a dream. Something only possible in some alternate universe where he was a normal member of society, and you lived a life stable enough to care for something so fragile. In this universe, he’d just have to settle for making a bloody mess out of whoever got too friendly.

Which, he was content with, and so were you.

Of course though, the fantasies would slip your tongues from time to time. Especially, when you were beneath him.

It’s a hot summer day. Too hot, for two people that lived in a cabin with no air conditioning. You never thought about that fact in any of the other seasons, because spring was comfortable, and the colder months were easily forgotten about with a genuine log fireplace to warm the air. Right now though, you were cursing every god that might exist as you lounge on the couch - a book in your hands as a positioned fan blows directly in your face.

Your skin is clammy, and it’s difficult to not be restless - especially with clothes on. You had originally been wearing a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, but those pieces of fabric had very quickly turned suffocating, only expediting that rate at which sweat beaded up on your skin. So, you had stripped them, and were now lying on the couch in nothing but a pair of cotton panties and a cropped tank top, hair pulled up into a haphazard bun to get the strands off of your neck.

Toby was out in the backyard doing… Something. You weren’t quite sure what. The sound of metal meeting wood rang through the air, signalling that he was either chopping logs or practicing his axe throw. Either way, you can’t wrap your head around how he was managing to stay alive out there, when the heat was so unbearable.

You felt like you were going through the wringer and you weren’t even moving, you couldn’t imagine actually engaging in physical activity while out in that heat. But, it was Toby, and he did things that baffled you on a day to day basis. So, it really wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

With a huff, you push a few sweaty strands of hair out of your face, grumbling in discomfort to yourself. It’s hard to even focus on the words of the page in front of you, despite it being a book you’ve been pretty engrossed in. Your whole body feels lethargic, brain foggy and disgruntled from the effects of the summer heat.

You’re in the middle of rereading the same line for the third time because you just haven’t been able to comprehend it, when you hear the sound of the front door opening - and your attention is very easily directed elsewhere.

Toby, comes shuffling inside, looking - well, how you’d expect him to after spending so much time out in the sauna outside. His hair was damp, skin glistening with a sheen of sweat that made the light bounce off of him. He had been wearing a t-shirt when he left the house, but now the sleeves were cut off - fabric jagged and torn where the sleeves used to be, most likely hacked off by one of the hatchets that was fastened to his belt.

And he’s panting, chest heaving with each breath as he reaches up to wipe sweat from his brow, cheeks flushed pink from the heat consuming his entire body.

You can’t help the way your heart flutters at the sight. How could you? You don’t think anyone could contain themselves, when faced with the man they loved - sweaty, and panting from exertion.

And it only gets better when he looks at you.

Toby’s eyes meet yours for a total of five seconds before they’re roaming the rest of your body. Over the slope of your back, the curve of your ass, the plushness of your thighs. So much bare skin for him the feast on, all flushed from the heat and glistening with a sheen so enticing. Not what he had been expecting to walk into after an hour and a half of practicing his aim, but he wasn’t complaining. In fact, he couldn’t even if he wanted to, because his mouth had gone drier than a desert the moment you graced his line of sight.

“Hey, baby.” He manages to choke out, having seemingly been frozen to the ground in the entryway. He hadn’t moved. Hadn’t been able to since he caught sight of you, caught sight of your plush ass covered only by the flimsiest piece of fabric - sprawled out on the couch like a full course meal. “W-What’s- Uh-“ He clears his throat, reaching up to awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “What’s goin’ on here?”

He’s so cute. You think to yourself. So easily flustered by the sight of your bare skin, as if he hadn’t seen it a million times before. As if he hadn’t been two knuckles deep inside you, just this morning. It was flattering, really, how his attraction towards you never seemed to wane, even as the years passed. He still acted like some lovesick teenage boy, drooling at your bare ass like he’d never get to see it again.

Absolutely adorable.

“It’s hot.” You laugh softly, before closing your book and dropping it on the floor. You stretch out a little bit, resting your cheek against the armrest of the couch as you gaze at him. “I’m trying not to burst into flames over here.”

“Uh huh.” Toby murmurs back to you, as if he wasn’t convinced. You watch as he unclasps his tool belt before setting it on the bench in the entryway, the metal of his hatchets clanging against the hard surface. “W-Well, one thing’s definitely hot.”

You roll your eyes and snort out a laugh, gaze tracking him as he approaches you. Kicking off his shoes before he makes his way into the living room, his steps slow and steady - like a predator on the hunt. That’s definitely what he was right now, if the look in his eyes was anything to go by - fogging up more and more with each second that passed, glazing with desire as his eyes passed over your nearly bare form for the hundredth time since he first walked in.

“Oh, shut up.” You scoff, raising an eyebrow. “What are you, sixteen? Can’t handle the sight of your girlfriend’s ass?”

“No, I c-can’t.” Toby chuckles, not an ounce of shame in his voice once he finally comes to stand before you. He’s not standing for long though, before he’s sinking down to his knees to get level with you - one hand lifting to rest against the small of your back. “Sorry for loving you.” He pouts softly, lips pursing as his hands slowly starts to drift, just barely grazing the curve of your ass. “I-If you could see what I see, you’d g-get it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You hum back to him, watching him with drooping eyes. The sight of him, so enticing you know exactly where he’s coming from. Sweat slick hair pushed off of his forehead, eyes darkened with desire, the ripped sleeves of his t-shirt leaving his biceps on display for you to rave over. You may not have been as obvious about it, but you were just as - if not more - riled up than he was right now. Just from the view of him stumbling through the door after a workout in the sun. “At least let me have a shower first, you freak.” You crack him a playful smile. “I’m gross right now.”

Completely ignoring your words, Toby’s hand wanders. Down lower. Lower. Until his palm is completely splayed against one of your ass cheeks, before he’s giving it a nice firm squeeze. His gaze following, watching how your flesh yielded to his touch. How the meat of your ass indented as his fingers sunk into it. Slippery with sweat, but maybe that just made it better. Maybe, your words had some truth to them.

But, he’d gladly be a freak when it comes to you.

“You’re n-never gross.” He murmurs back to you, his voice taking on a lower tone as his eyes snap back to your face. His hand, doesn’t stop though. Kneading the flesh beneath it, making you squirm a little bit under his touch. You were already hot, but the heat he was bringing to you was different. This heat wasn’t outwardly suffocating - it came from within. A flame that he stoked so easily, making the fire burn brighter just from the simplest touch. “You-You’ve got no idea how I see you.” He leans forwards a little, pressing the gentlest kiss to your shoulder blade. “Lookin’ like a fuckin’ goddess dropped onto my couch.”

Another kiss meets your skin, sloppy and unrestrained - smearing saliva against your shoulder as his mouth moved against your skin. Up your shoulder, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, breathing in the pure scent of you earnestly. “You’ve got no- no idea.” He mutters against you again, his hand dipping down even lower - fingers just barely grazing the shape of your cunt through your panties. “All the things I want t-to do to you.” He presses down lightly, just enough for you to really feel it. Enough to elicit a sharp inhale through your teeth. “Things I should never say.”

“Say them.” You gasp out immediately, arching into his touch as you bury your face into the couch cushions. Already trembling, just from the anticipation. “Tell me, Toby.” It was laughable really, how easily he melted you. Barely even in the house for more than a few minutes, and he was turning you to mush. All his words picked out carefully, knowing just what to say to make your brain go foggy. Knowing just how to touch you, to make your panties go damp.

“I wanna…” You feel it as he rises, before joining you on the couch. Positioned right behind you, his hands only leaving you for a second before they’re back on your skin. Calloused palms kneading your ass as he watches with drool pooling in the corners of his lips. It’s only time until it starts seeping out of the cash in his face, but that’s just a part of it. He always got messy. A fact that was so enticing. Always just as much of a mess for you as you were for him. “I wanna worship every i-inch of this skin.”

He dips his head down low, hands sliding up your sides as he presses a kiss right between your shoulder blades. So much bare skin for him to lave at already, and he hasn’t even had to strip you. What a treat. “Wanna t-taste every inch of you. Get you shaking and crying before I even stuff you full.”

His words invoke a downright visceral reaction, the softest of moans slipping from your lips as you bury your face further into the cushions. You can feel your cheeks burning, can feel your cunt throbbing within the confines of your panties - and it’s agonizing. Agonizing in the way he’s barely even done anything, and yet you’re already falling apart. Mind hazy, pussy pulsing - desperate for his touch

He knew your body so well. Using every time with you as a chance to bookmark everything you liked the best, and now it was all being thrown back in your face - leaving you powerless in the wake of your all-consuming desire. “And I’ll get you full. I know that’s what you want.”

His lips trail down your back, leaving a slick trail in its wake. Tracing the line of your spine, moving lower languidly - letting you really feel it as his lips dance against your skin, licking up all the salty sweat that had already accumulated. God, you tasted so lovely. Every inch of you. And, he hadn’t even gotten to the good part yet.

He shifts backwards on the couch, letting his lips trail down further - his calloused palms sliding back down your sides before he’s gripping your hips. Giving them a nice squeeze, his grip firm and insistent. “Acting all i-innocent.” He mutters softly, one hand slipping under your body to lift your hips upwards - getting your cunt perfectly in line with his drooling mouth. Exactly where he wants you to be. “As if this pussy isn’t begging for it.”

You feel it when his fingers hook under your panties, peeling the material from your body. Too impatient that he doesn’t even pull them off all the way, just slides them down your thighs. It’s enough to get your glistening pussy on full display for him though, so it’s good enough in his books. “Luh-Look at you. So wet already.”

His hands move to splay against your ass cheeks and spread you apart further, giving him a full frontal view of the feast before him. Your desperate cunt, already dripping with slick. Your clit already visibly swollen, and he can see it when your pussy throbs. Clenching around nothing - literally begging for more. And what kind of man was he, if he were to ignore such pleading? “D-Du kannst es nicht vor mir verbergen, süßes Mädchen.”

He dips his head down low, breathing out a hot puff of breath against your cunt that immediately has you squirming in his hold. The position you were in was downright humiliating, and so you can’t help it when your stomach twists in embarrassment. Face down into the couch cushions, spread open for Toby’s eyes to feast on. To think, just an hour before this you had been innocently lounging on the couch - unaware of the wolf that would soon walk through the door and pounce you. “So feucht. U-Und ich weiß, du schmeckst süß.“

“Toby, please-“ You murmur out, voice partially muffled by the cushions below you. In an act of desperation, you nudge your hips back towards him - seeking anything at this point. His tongue, his fingers, his cock - you didn’t really care. You just needed something, anything to extinguish this fire you were consumed in. So wet you could feel it dripping down your thighs, only adding to the embarrassment that was already churning in your gut, because you knew Toby was getting a front row seat to all of it.

“Du bettelst so schön.” Toby sounds breathless when he speaks, his words husky with every letter absolutely soaked in lust. If you could see him, you could imagine the look on his face. You’ve seen it before, how he gets when he’s like this - skin flushed, pupils so blown out they practically swallow his irises whole. Staring down at you like you were a feast to be consumed.

Maybe, that’s exactly what you were to him. It sure seemed like it, with what he does next.

With no warning, no further words, he closes the gap between his face and your leaking cunt. Making you jolt when his tongue comes into contact with you - licking a long, flat stripe from your clit to your how hole. Gathering up all the slick you had already leaked out. Drinking it up so eagerly, moaning into you like the mere taste of you brought him pleasure.

It did. It definitely did. Toby could feel himself just grow harder in his jeans once the taste of your essence met his tastebuds. So sweet. So, you. It was absolutely intoxicating. It was, every single time he went down on you. Never got old, no matter how many times he was granted with the blessing of having a face full of your cunt.

And having his face between your thighs, truly is a blessing. For both parties. Because the love Toby had for eating you out showed in every action that he made. He savoured it. Tongue dipping into every inch of your folds, licking you clean of all the slick that was seeping out of you. Sucking on your clit as his fingers clawed at your ass cheeks, groaning into you in a tone so deep it only intensified the tingles going down your spine.

“F-Fuck, Toby-“ You can’t help but moan out, your mouth dropping open in pleasure as he laps at your heat. Swiping his tongue against you like it’s his only purpose in life - using his grip on you to pull you against him, getting his face completely buried in that treasure between your legs. “S’Too good-“

And it was. It was too good. So good, you could barely even form a coherent thought. Especially not when you felt his tongue dip inside you - hot, slick muscle sliding against your walls. Licking into you, the vibrations of his moans making your knees go weak.

He doesn’t respond, can’t, with a face full of pussy - but your words only seem to spur him on more. He dives into you with fervour - clawing at your skin as his tongue flicked inside of you - eyes rolling back in his skull from the combination of the feel and taste of you. You just got better every time, he was sure of it. So tight and warm, so slick and sweet. He would live between your thighs if you’d let him. Would worship you for hours, drink up every drop of essence that leaked out of you.

He felt so lucky, every day, that he was the one you chose to bestow that honour to.

“Du b-bist köstlich.” He slurs against you, his breathing coming out as shaky huffs of breath when his tongue slides out of you. Then, he’s giving all the love to your clit. Sucking at it, flicking his tongue against it - revelling in the way your pussy throbs with each swipe of his tongue. So responsive. You always were. And it was so gratifying, knowing that he could bring you the height of pleasure. That he was the only one who knew just how to take you apart. “Pussy’s gettin’ so w-wet for me. You’re gonna cum, aren’t you baby?”

Yeah, you were. It had been building and building, ignited the moment his tongue met your sensitive flesh. You had been trying to hold it off, but that was an impossible feat when faced with Toby. When he got you like this, his one and only goal was to make you crumble apart before him.

And he knew just how to do it.

You feel the tips of his fingers prod at your entrance for just a moment - circling around it, gathering up your slick - before they’re sinking into you. Two fingers. Two, long, calloused fingers, sliding into you so effortlessly. Making your body bend to his will, stretching you open in anticipation to take more.

He pumps them into you as his lips suction to your clit, thrusting them into you at a pace that leaves you breathless. Curling them into you just right, knowing just what spot to press into that would just get you wetter.

The coil in your gut ties tighter. Heat growing hotter. Legs trembling when he scissors his fingers, just spreading you open wider. The stretch is mind numbing. Godly, even. And with how his assault on your clit is as relentless as ever, it hardly takes any more effort from him for you to be tumbling over the edge in a flurry of gasps as moans.

You take in a sharp breath as your orgasm hits you with full forth, pushing back against his face as you soak him with you slick - and he loves it. Slurping up every drop that you give him. Fingers curling into your skin as you tremble and shake, fingernails leaving behind little crescent shaped indents in the supple flesh. “Das ist es. SS-So gut für mich.”

He licks at you until you’re trying to pull away from him, not content until he’s swallowed down every little bit of your release. And he does. Slurping at your heat with the filthiest sounds until you’re licked clean - but he isn’t. His face is absolutely soaked when he pulls away from you. Coated in a sheen of your release and his spit, to the point where it’s dripping down his chin.

So messy, so filthy. And it’s all for you.

Toby leans up and straightens his back, gazing down at you from above with a mind clouded with lust. You look so… Appetizing. Still trembling, back arched with your ass up in the air - slick still dripping down your thighs, fingers curled into the couch cushions. If his cock wasn’t quite literally aching in his boxers, he’s probably just dive right back in and eat you out until you were sobbing from oversensitivity. But, he just can’t take it.

If he was being honest, he’d been hard since he first caught sight of you. Walking through the door and seeing you sprawling out on the couch like that, so much bare smooth skin for him to touch upon, causing all the blood in his brain to rush south at an almost worrying speed.

How could you blame him? You were just too gorgeous. So gorgeous it was absolutely maddening. On a daily basis, when you were fully clothed, he had to restrained himself from pouncing on you when you were doing something as mundane as cooking dinner.

So, walking into you, barely clothed, skin shiny with a layer of sweat - it was simply impossible for him to hold himself back. And especially not now, still shaking from the bliss of your relief. All hazy eyed and pliant, laying below him like some sort of angel. “Hübsches Mädchen. I-Ich weiß, du willst mehr.”

You feel his fingers swipe through your slickness again, before he delivers a light slap to your cunt. Just enough to make you jolt, and let out a little squeak of surprise. “This pretty cunt’s b-begging for my cock. Practically crying for me t-to knock you up.”

If you couldn’t breathe before, those words knocked out whatever air was left in your lungs. Because, fuck. Fuck, he was right. He knew he was right, just as much as you did. You wanted that, so badly it made your bones ache. Needing nothing more than for him to absolutely flood you with his cum, for him to really, really make you his - as if you weren’t already.

“Please, Toby-“ You gasp, arching your back more, wiggling your ass a little just for good measure. As if you needed to entice him more, but the action makes his hands absolutely fly to his belt buckle. “I need it-“

“Y-Yeah?” You hear the jingle of his belt as he pulls it free, hear the rustle of clothes as he kicks his jeans off with an enviable speed. “W-Want me to get you full of it? Mark this cunt as mine?” Please. That’s all you can think. The only word bouncing around your brain as you feel the weight of his cock rest against your ass.

You’ve seen it enough times to know what you’re dealing with, but the size still gets you every time. So thick, so long. Absolute brain numbing. Like he was moulded by god, strictly for the purpose of making you drool from pleasure. “Ich werde dich damit vollpumpen.” His cock grinds against your folds, slipping against your slickness and getting himself all lubed up and slippery with your essence. “Du kannst hier auf keinen Fall weggehen, ohne dass mein Kind in dir ist.“

Your German is spotty, but you don’t need to be fluent to know exactly what he’s saying to you. To know the promise he’s making. A promise that you know you can’t fulfill, but it doesn’t fucking matter, because you want it. Need it. Just as bad as he does.

You feel it as the head of his cock notches on your entrance, almost slipping in aided by the amount of slick gushing out of you. You were so ready for it. So ready for anything he could possibly want to give you. “G-Gonna get this cunt so full-“ Again, he grinds against you, leaving you whimpering and whining for him to please just give it to you. To fill you up, just like he said he would. “S-So lucky to have such a- a Hübsche Schlampe like you.”

And then you feel the head of his cock press against you, at the same time that his hands slide up to grip your hips. Pressing you down, forcing your body into an arch so provocative it makes his cock throb before he even enters you. But when he does? Good lord.

Even after being fingered open, the stretch still leaves you brainless. His cock sliding into you so easily because of how fucking wet you are, absolutely drenching every inch that he sunk in. Literally dripping for him, like you always were. So desperate. So willing. Begging for it, like he had said before.

It was no wonder his hormones were so out of whack around you, with a pussy that was literally crying for it.

His hips rock into you gently at first - slow, gentle thrusts, letting you really feel it as his your pussy stretched around his cock. Two hands on your waist, fingers curling into your flesh - gripping you like he’d die if he ever let you go. “S-So good.” Toby can’t help but groan out, his voice strained and gravelly. “Fuck, you j-just get better every time.” And that was nothing but the truth. No matter how many times he sunk into you, he’d never get sick of it. Never get sick of you. You were just too fucking good. Too good, for him to be the person who got to indulge in it, but there was not an ounce of guilt in his veins as he thrust his cock into your velvety heat.

You were his. Only his. His to defile, and take apart. His, to leave his mark on. “Y-You’d look so pretty, you know?” One of his hand slips down beneath you, cupping your stomach as his cock slid into you. “All s-swollen with my kids.” And you just get wetter, gushing all over him as he pumps his dick into you, enveloping himself in that tight heat of yours over and over and over again. Because, christ, you could imagine it. Had imagined it, many times before. “I-I’d give you as many as you want.”

The hand that’s not pressing against your belly, presses down on your back - forcing you into an even meaner arch, face pressed into the cushions as his hips snap against yours. “I-If I had it my way-“ The head of his cock presses against your gspot and your knees buckle, but he keeps you held up effortlessly. “This pussy would be full of my cum 24/7. You’d n-never not be knocked up.”

The dream. The absolute dream. You could imagine it. Giving birth just to be stuffed full all over again. Throwing your birth control pills in the trash, never needing them again.

God, if only life was just a little bit different.

“Please, Toby-“ You cry, gasping against the couch cushions. Rocking your hips back to meet his every thrust, the sound of skin on skin filling your once quiet living room. It was a good thing your cabin was secluded, because you knew that you were being loud. Absolutely unabashed with the way the filthiest moans and cries were slipping off of your tongue - staining the cushions below you with drool and tears.

You couldn’t help it. Not when the feeling of his cock filling you was so delicious, so perfect. Nudging right up against your cervix every time he sunk in to the hilt, a sure fire way to knock you up if life allowed it. “I-I need it-“

“Yeah, I-I know you do.” Toby murmurs back to softly, breathing growing more and more ragged with each thrust he dealt upon you. “You need it b-bad huh? Want me to mark this cunt as mine?”

“Fuck, yes-“ Your eyes roll back, the position he’s got you in letting him sink in so deep. So deep it made your toes curl and your thighs tremble. “Toby, please-“

“I know baby, I-I know.” His pace only quickens, driven by this primal urge that you were encouraging so wholeheartedly. Endorsing his sickest wishes, so perfect for him in every single way. “Du wärst so eine wundervolle Mutter.”

His hand slides up your back until it’s curling into your hair, tugging you upwards with a force that makes you squeal - unable to do anything but take it as his hips smack against yours. He pulls your body flush to his, your back meeting his chest as your head comes to rest on his shoulder. Drooling, gasping, crying for more with each punishing thrust. You almost felt dizzy, completely consumed by pleasure as his cock stretched you open - sinking into you like you were just made to take it. Maybe you were. “Das willst du d-doch, oder?”

Yes, yes it was. More than anything you’ve ever wanted before. And as you feel your pleasure start to crest, thighs shaking as your cunt pulses around him - your brain is filled with nothing but that need. You need him to pump you full. Need him to absolutely soak your cunt with his cum, get you so full that you’ll be dripping with it for hours to come. And if you had it your way, it would seed. You’d be so, completely his, by the time this was all over.

“I want that-“ You gasp, your whole face scrunched up in pleasure as his cock abused your gspot - one hand on your stomach and pressing down, adding a pressure that only took you higher. “Wanna- Wanna have your babies, Toby- Please-“

Christ, if he couldn’t fall even more in love. Those words do him in. Sending a white hot wave of pleasure straight to his dick. Because you just sound so desperate, tears in your eyes as you literally cry from him to knock you up. Was that not every man’s dream? It was like you had dropped straight out of one of his darkest fantasies. An absolute goddess of a woman, all his to dirty up.

“Fuck-“ He hisses through his teeth, jaw clenched as his hips start to stutter. His sweat mixing with yours, his breath so hot against your neck as he panted out heady huffs of breath against you. “G-Give me one more then.” His voice is a borderline growl, so low and raspy as it reverberates right next to your ear. “Cum on my cock, show me h-how much you need it.”

Easy. Especially when you’re so pent up it’s making you near delirious. His cock is hitting all the right spots, and the sounds of his husky groans right next to your ear only amplifies your needs. He sounds near animalistic, obviously struggling to hold back his release just as much as you were.

And so, you let go. Cumming with a cry that rings through the empty air, so raw and visceral in the way it’s absolutely ripped from your lungs. The pleasure is almost blinding, leaving you near limp in his hold as your eyes roll back - body trembling in his arms as wave after wave of ecstasy wracks you.

Your hands fly up to claw at him, scratching at his shoulders as he fucks you through it, nails sinking in deep enough to break skin. That’s what he liked though, being left with evidence of your desire after all is said and done.

He doesn’t let you grasp at him for long though, because as your cunt milks his cock, he’s shoving you back down again. One hand on the back of your neck, pressing your face deep back into the cushions as his hips start to stutter. Holding you down with a firm grip, leaving you to do nothing but take it when he tumbled over the edge after you.

Once, twice, his hips meet yours, and then he’s crumpling. Letting out a deep, low groan as he buries himself in deep, nestled right up against your womb when he spills inside of you. Rocking his hips into you lazily to make sure it’s all stuffed in deep.

He’s shaking too by the time he completely empties himself into you, curling his body over yours as he gasps and grunts against your shoulder blades. Absolutely reeling from the ecstasy you had given him, barely able to bring himself back to earth, even as his cock started to soften inside of you.

When he finally did pull out, he left nothing to waste. Watching with hazy eyes as his cum started to drip out of you, before he’s scooping it up with his fingers and pushing it right back into you. Right where it should be. “So dreckig.” He murmurs softly, his voice strained from the lingering effects of his release. “M-Mein schmutziges Mädchen.”

You let out a soft little whine, face scrunching up at the feeling his fingers prodding against your incredibly sensitive walls. Pumping his cum right back into you, not satisfied until he’s sure your body’s swallowed up every last drop.

When he is satisfied though, he gently flips you over - strong arms flipping you onto your back so that he can finally get a good look at you. At those watery eyes of yours, and all the tears streaking your flushed cheeks. So pretty. So fucking pretty. “Hey, beautiful.” He murmurs to you, his eyes so warm and full of adoration that it makes your stomach flip. His sweat drenched hair falls over his eyes, lips stretched into a satisfied smile. “Missed th-that pretty face of yours.”

“Oh, shush.” You giggle softly, before reaching your hands up to grab at him. He concedes easily, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you flush to his chest - revelling in the warmth of your body against his, even if the air was so hot around the two of you. “Now I really need a shower, asshole.”

Toby lets out a snort of laughter and rolls his eyes, before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Yeah, act mad about it.” He chuckles. “Want me to r-repeat some of the things you just said?”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Want me to repeat some of the shit you just said?” You counter, and he must know it’s a good argument, because he’s rolling over so incredibly easily.

“Touché.” He laughs, rubbing his nose against yours. “I’ll start the sh-shower.”

—————————————————————————☆

ok you nasties. i know you’ve been waiting for this

EVERYONE wants toby to knock them up. he’s boutta be a deadbeat father

[darnell-la]

Darkceo!logan and employer!fem-reader when he's using his power to control her fully as employer and plaything💯

pairing: dark!boss!logan howlett x employ!reader

warnings: controlling, unprofessional, threats, choking, hair pulling, sexual harassment, high power, forced creampie, rough sex, marking, baby trapping, etc.

note: I’ll be Logan’s slut coworker anytime.

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits, and memes of the people we write about!

———

“Logan, I can’t stay after hours to help the kids in detention. I’ve got work to do myself,” y/n said after the man called her in his office. This was his third time within a week, making her stay back.

“Well, I’ve got paperwork, and need someone to watch the kids when I’m not looking,” the man fixed his glasses before looking back at the computer he was typing on.

“You’re in the same room as them — I’m sure they’re not gonna up and leave,” y/n tried convincing the man to let her go, but that wasn’t happening, just like the other nights.

“When I tell something once, I expect you to listen, y/n. Don’t make me tell you again,” the man had looked up at the girl.

Y/n stood in the middle of the man’s office, wanting to fight for some kind of break, but last time he had scared her into staying.

“Yes, sir,” the young lady said before turning around and walking off. She could see the smirk on the older man after her sentence. He owned her, and she had no one to go to and tell.

“Y/n, stay back — We need to talk,” Logan said after y/n dismissed detention for the kids. Some laughed as others ran out, ready to do whatever teenage mutants did at this time of night.

“Mister Howlett, I really need to get to my own work-“ she tried saying. “Don’t start,” the man cut her off at the end of her sentence. The way he always looked over his glasses, made her shut up in an instant.

The class was finally empty. Logan stood outside of the door, waiting for all of his students to leave before closing and locking his classroom door.

“You’re the best teacher I’ve got, y/n, but your attitude — It ain’t pretty,” Logan finally turned around, eyes burning into hers. She didn’t want to get fired. She’s done everything he’s asked, but she could feel something coming.

“Ima need you to work after hours right here with me. Confused it a mild punishment for your recent behaviors,” he said, confusing the girls.

“Mister Howlett, I’ve donen’t everything you’ve asked me to for days. If I don’t get my own work done, I can fall behind. The stress isn’t good for teaching,” she tried telling the man.

Logan walked toward the girl, letting her talk for once until he stood right before her.

“I know you love this job, y/n, but you will lose it if you don’t obey me,” the man said. Obey? “Logan, this isn’t some kind of joke. I can’t be around you all day and night for no reason. I have papers myself,” y/n tried standing her ground, but it was hard. His gaze intimidated her.

“Then take ‘em down here for now on. Don’t argue with me anymore,” the man looked down at her as she rolled her eyes. He didn’t like that.

“Look-“ Logan said as his hand raised, gripping the girl's neck out of nowhere. “I don’t know who the fuck told you, you can act a certain way towards me — But I’d advise you to cut that shit out,” he said.

When the girl didn’t give a response and just looked up at the man, he dragged her until her body was pinned against the cold thick wooden walls.

“You think I’m a joke, Bub? I’ll fire you right now. I don’t give a fuck how important you are to my school. I’ll fire you and throw you out tonight,” the man threatened as his body pressed against her.

“So as I said, cut the fuckin’ attitude, before I do it for you,” another threat was made. “You can’t just-“ y/n tried saying. “I can’t just what? Hm!?” Gripped her neck tighter, waiting for her to tell him what he couldn’t do with her.

“Y-You can’t just do this, Logan. I have a job to do, just like you, and you’re getting in my way. Y-You’re distracting me,” she finally said.

She had been trying to tell the man for weeks now, but every time, he’d threaten the woman’s job. It was unprofessional of him shaking up in her room one night, and telling her she needed to come to her rooms at times and work. She didn’t know what the man's problem was, and she was scared to ask.

“Oh, I’m distracting?” He asked in a low voice which slightly came out as a growl. He couldn’t help but smirk and scan the young lady. She looked so good like this.

“Maybe I am too — Those lips aren’t very easy to ignore,” he said, face coming close to hers. Once his hot breath hit her skin, her heart dropped and reality hit her. This man has been hitting on her…

“M-Mister Howlett,” the girl spoke, earning a groan from the man. “Yes, princes?” He asked as one knee moved in between her leg, pushing until he grazed her clothes folds.

Y/n regretted listening to the man when he demanded her to look more professional by wearing skirts and dressed to teach.

“T-This is unprofessional,” she said, instantly making the man laugh as he tilted his head back. “God, you’re so fuckin’ dumb. Lucky me, I like ‘em that way,” the man said before he slowly leaned at her neck.

The young girl whined softly, her heart rate raising as her boss sucked on her neck. “L-Logan,” she pushed at his shoulders softly, but what would that do? He was stronger and wanted this.

The man growled in her neck, loving the way his name rolled from her tongue. “L-Logan, stop this,” y/n pushed harder at the man’s shoulders, but all he did was laugh at her skin.

Y/n’s eyes filled with tears as she noticed her cunt throb on his thigh. She was growing wet as well, and she knew he knew that.

After Logan realized how much she was leaking, he pulled her off of the wall by her hair, pulling her over to his desk. “Be a good coworker, and spread for me,” the man pushed her down onto his desk, almost breaking it.

“Ow, Logan,” the girl whined. He loved how venerable she was. The girl wasn’t a mutant, so she knew he was too strong for her. He loved the power he had over her as a mutant and boss.

Y/n repeatedly begged the man to let her go, telling him she’d do whatever he wanted from now on with no attitude, but all he said was “Ima get that anyway,”.

Logan pulled the girl's tight dress up, eyes filling with darkness as he saw her wet spot. “Fuckin’ slut got wet on the job,” the spat before ripping them off clean.

“P-Please, Logan,” y/n begged again, legs already shaking from the fear in her body. She’s never been with a mutant, and having her boss be the first, isn’t professional of her. She can’t do this.

“Don’t worry, Bub — Gonna fill this cunt right up. Give her what she needs,” he made up his own thoughts on what y/n wanted as he pulled himself out, stroking until he felt pre cum leak from his tip.

Logan knew the young lady wasn’t on birth control. He made her sign work papers, having that down as one of the questions. She didn’t think of it at first because she just wanted a job. A normal job, but now she knows it’s not so normal.

Logan forcefully pushed at the girl's entrance, making her grip his table. He was huge, and he hadn’t even filled her to the brim yet.

“L-Logan, please!” She begged as tears slipped from her eyes. The man groaned as he slipped into her walls, feeling the instant warmth and grip. “Fuck,” he couldn’t keep in. He’s been waiting on this for a while.

L-Logan,” the girl's cracked voice filled the room as he pushed all the way into her. She felt full. She felt pain. She felt pleasure. He knew she liked this deep down.

“Ah huh, baby — You like it?” He asked as he slowly pulled back before pushing back in. Y/n’s body went stiff at the length he was. He was too deep, and he loved it.

“T-Too much, Logan,” she cried low, gripping his desk harder. “I know, Bub, but whose fault was that for not being nicer to me? I would’ve trained you with my fingers, but you’ve been pissin’ me off lately,” Logan leaned over y/n, rubbing at her cheeks.

“Got me so fuckin’ angry, but all I could think about if fuckin’ it out. All out, into you,” the snap on his hips made the girl yelp. “So, you’re gonna lay here, and fuckin’ take it — professionally,”

Logan couldn’t help himself. He tugged on the girl's hair and gripped the side of her waist, pulling her into every hard thrust he could give. He knew the screws on the table were loosening, but he’ll fix it later.

“Can’t walk around here this tight and think I don’t want a taste, baby. Gonna be havin’ this cunt whenever I want, and however I want from now on,”

Y/n’s cunt was finally stretched and wet, good enough for Logan to slip into her with ease, but still rough enough to punish her. He neared to use the power he had over her, and he was.

“For now on, you’re in my room. Don’t need you unsupervised when you’re this tight,” the sounds of y/n’s juice filled the room as he talked. She couldn’t control her system. She was leaking worse than before. “And leave the panties alone. Need ease access in what’s mine,”

The girl's cunt throbbed at his words, not knowing why, but she knew she was fucked. If she tried telling anyone she didn’t want this after knowing the knot in her stomach getting harder to hold, they’d laugh in her face.

“Petty girls gonna cum, hm? Well, that ain’t so professional of you, ain’t it? Tellin’ me how unprofessional I am, but you’re about to cum on my jeans like the whore of the night,”

Y/n tried holding herself back, angry that he read her like a book, but she soon failed. She came all over his lower body, making the sounds of his thrust louder and more sloppy.

“That’s it, baby — Cum in my cock, and I might give you a raise,” he chuckled as he felt himself eat close. Y/n felt horrible. She clenched around the man after he mentioned a raise. That could only mean she was fine with this, as long as she got paid.

“Gonna have to save after the baby forms in your stomach. Can’t have my pretty girl workin’ too hard,” a whine left the girl's mouth. A very sexual moan that made him know she wanted this. Deep down, she couldn’t hide it. She couldn’t hide how good he was fucking the life out of her.

“That’s it, baby — Keep moaning like that, and Ima put a village in this sweet cunt,” the man said between his teeth, now slamming into her. His thrust was brutal, knowing the wind and trapped moans from her mouth any time his pelvis slapped her ass.

“Fuck, yes, baby. Grip me — Grip me and show me you want it,” the man's cock twitched in her walls, warning her, he was close. Before he could say another teasing sentence, he was cut off by his groans as he filled the girl up.

He spilled in her for what felt like hours, pushing his cock deeper into her cunt to make sure one of them would be a winner.

[vibelladonna]

✑ 𝓉𝓎𝓅𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒷𝑜𝓎𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝜗𝜚 𝒽𝓎𝓊𝑔𝑜

We’re back again with the “type of boyfriend” headcanons—this time for the best baby boy in TKATB. That’s right, it’s finally Hyugo’s turn. People have been asking for him (loudly), and since there’s barely any content on this chaotic rooftop menace, I figured... fine. It’s time.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

Also, I was only gone for like two weeks and suddenly y’all hit me with 1K followers—??? Why?? T-T

I’m not even a consistent writer, I just be vanishing like a ghost with commitment issues. But seriously, thank you. I’ll try to get to your requests after finals, once my brain cells recover from the academic warfare.

Anyway, writing him? Pain. He’s sweet, playful, has beef with the college, possibly a knife in his back pocket 24/7, and still manages to be boyfriend-coded. Balancing all that? Not easy—especially studying for finals kicking me in the face. But even while dying academically, I think I’ve got a solid grasp on him now.

Honestly? I might just become the main Hyugo writer. 

Someone has to. Let’s get into it.

[ 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ]

Let’s be clear—Hyugo was the one catching feelings first.

The boy was already gone for you long before you realized what was happening. In the game, it’s mentioned he has a “certain crush,” and the way he stares a little too long or makes offhand comments about how you “remind him of someone”?

Yeah. That someone is you.

He doesn’t confess right away, though. That’s not his style. Instead, he lingers around you more often, steals your pen to “borrow it” even though he never returns it, pulls you into weird places like the rooftop “just because,” and randomly brings up your name in conversations with Sol—pretending it’s no big deal. (Spoiler: it is.)

✑ Unpredictable Lover (But With Bite)

Hyugo doesn’t ease into love. He trips, stumbles, and full-body slams into it like a cartoon character hitting a wall—and then laughs about it while nursing emotional whiplash. One minute you’re just the guy who shares notes or laughs at his dumb trivia. 

The next? He’s looking at you like you invented gravity.

When the MC reminded him of his old crush? That was it. Game over. His brain short-circuited and fully convinced itself you were his soulmate. Not in a clingy way (okay, maybe a little clingy), but in that wide-eyed, heart-hammering, "Oh, you're real? You're mine?" kind of way.

It’s not even subtle. If Sol’s the type to bottle everything up until it explodes, Hyugo’s just… holding the bottle upside down, watching it pour, and asking if you want a sip. He’ll tell you he likes you in the most offhand, dramatic, heart-melting ways—laughing as if it’s no big deal while simultaneously dying inside.

“I like you too much. It’s annoying.” cue deflection into food talk like he didn’t just ruin your emotional stability for the week

He’s drawn to people who get him—the weird parts, the unpredictable schedule, the random ass facts at 3 a.m., the way he vanishes and reappears with rare cassettes or bags of stolen berries like a chaotic little cryptid boyfriend. People who don’t try to "fix" him, but instead hand him a spoon and ask to share dessert.

He doesn’t do patterns. Doesn’t do expectations. What he does do is follow his gut, sprint into romantic territory like it’s a speedrun, and somehow still make you feel like the center of the universe—his odd little galaxy.

One day he’s got your favorite fruity snack in hand, saying, “Skip class with me. I found a crime documentary we can heckle together.” The next? He’s ghosted for two days. No texts. No calls. Reappears like nothing happened, dumps a bag of cassette tapes in your lap, and mutters, “They sounded like you. Messy but good.”

His version of sweet nothings?

“If I threatened the dean, do you think I’d get expelled or promoted?”

What.

Anyway, Hyugo’s idea of a confession is the kind of thing that makes you pause for a full ten seconds wondering if he just insulted you or proposed.

Like the time he sauntered over to you with a slice of cake in a paper napkin, tossed it on your desk, and casually said:

“I got this cake the other day and it reminded me of you. It was horrible—like, truly disgusting—but really pretty to look at.”

And then he smiled.

Not even sheepishly. Just smug. Like he thought he was being romantic.

And somehow? It kind of was.

Because beneath the trolling and chaotic delivery, there’s a genuine, rare honesty. That cake? It was real. He hated it—but he thought about you. He bought it thinking about you. He shared it, thinking that even if it sucked, he wanted you to be part of the joke, part of the moment. And that’s what Hyugo does. He doesn’t wrap his feelings in a bow—he throws them at you like a dodgeball and laughs when you flinch.

But that’s the thing: Hyugo’s love isn’t elegant. It’s not scheduled. It’s messy, spontaneous, way-too-loud, and utterly sincere. One day he’s skipping class to show you a crime documentary he downloaded illegally off a sketchy website, and the next, he’s vanished for 48 hours without a word. Then he returns like nothing happened, hands you a crumpled bag of sweets and pretty flowers and mutters:

“I don’t know. These felt like you.”

He doesn’t believe in doing things the “right” way. He believes in feeling. And if being with you makes his heart do that hiccup thing in his chest? He’s going to chase that.

His affection isn’t routine—it’s a riot. He’ll flirt by arguing with you about fictional crimes. He’ll compliment you by comparing you to garbage-eating birds. He’ll confess his feelings mid-snack, while chewing.

“I like you too much, it’s annoying. Can you pass the chips?”

And honestly? It’s kind of perfect.

Because Hyugo doesn’t do romance the normal way—he does it his way. Unhinged. Blunt. Endearing in the most unpredictable fashion.

If you can survive the whiplash of dating someone who gifts you detective movie posters, late-night existential rants, and a stolen plush frog from the student store—He’s already yours.

Sidenote, now thinking about—Let’s just say… if Sol finds out Hyugo has feelings for the MC too?

Sol is the type to internalize every emotion until it calcifies. He doesn’t say he’s upset—he just stiffens around you, goes quiet, disappears from hangouts, and starts writing darker poetry. But make no mistake: he sees everything. And Hyugo? He’s not subtle. Not even a little.

Hyugo would catch on instantly. He’d tease Sol. Not maliciously—more like poking a sleeping wolf with a stick to see if it barks.

“You’re awfully quiet, Sol. Something bothering you?”

leans a little too close to MC

“Or someone?”

And maybe he laughs. Maybe he makes a show of being the light-hearted one. But behind all that noise is a sharp, protective loyalty—Hyugo’s jokes are weapons, and he’ll use them to keep the people he cares about close.

He might pretend to flirt just to mess with Sol.

But when it comes to you? He’s serious. Hyugo doesn’t play around with the things that make his heartbeat go crooked.

If you’re the one who makes him feel free—if you accept all his chaos without trying to change him—he’ll give you everything. The good, the bad, the oddly sweet bird-themed analogies. The ugly truths he doesn’t tell anyone else.

Because once Hyugo falls?

He falls all the way. No brakes. No caution tape. No escape plan.

Just you, and a heart too loud to ignore.

✑ Smart but Soft (and a lil scary)

Hyugo’s the type who confuses people on purpose. He’s top of the class one day, doesn’t show up the next. Cracks the most complicated equation in five minutes, then sticks googly eyes on the school vending machine and blames it on aliens.

Some say he’s a delinquent. Some say he’s a genius. All anyone really knows is that Hyugo always gets things done. He’s reliable.

Strangely so. You call him at 3AM with a crisis? He shows up.

You’re in tears over nothing? He distracts you with candy and half a conspiracy theory. He’s not ashamed of affection either—not even a little. 

Hyugo doesn’t care who’s watching when he grabs your hand in the hallway, when he hugs you from behind, or when he loudly calls you embarrassing pet names in front of Sol, or pretty much anyone.

Yeah. He's that guy.

But there’s something… off about him too.

Not in a bad way. Just—off. Like, he’s always smiling. Always laughing. But sometimes you catch that flicker in his eyes that’s just a bit too sharp. Sometimes his grin feels like it’s hiding something sharp behind it. Something practiced. Like he's worn that mask for years and just got good at making it look natural.

And the truth is? You’ve seen things.

Once, after class, you were heading toward the train station shortcut—an alleyway behind the older school buildings. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the voice that echoed off the brick stopped you cold. It was rough. Deep. Too serious. Too cold. Not Hyugo’s voice.

“If I catch you touching her again, I’ll carve out your throat and make you apologize with your last breath. Say ‘thank you’ for the warning.”

And then you saw him.

Hyugo. Your Hyugo.

Back pressed to some guy’s chest, hand gripping his jaw like he’d snap it clean. Not smiling. Not even blinking. Calm in a way that felt unnatural. There was a flick-knife in his hand. The same one he later used to peel an apple while lying on your floor like it never happened.

And what did you do? Nothing. You minded your business.

Like, what were you supposed to say? “Hey, babe, nice threats today! Who was the guy? Should I be worried?” Because how do you ask someone if they’re dangerous when they’re laying in your lap, pressing absentminded kisses to the inside of your wrist? When he’s curled up beside you with all his warmth and nicknames and that childish excitement in his voice whenever he finds a weird bug or sees a raccoon?

How do you bring it up when he's sweet?

When he traces your knuckles with the same fingers that curled around a knife so naturally. When he leans into your neck and mumbles, “You smell like strawberries,” like it’s a confession.

When he tells you, “Don’t ever leave me, okay?” in a tone too soft to be anything but sincere. That duality is what makes Hyugo dangerous. And irresistible.

He’s smart. Very smart. Too smart, maybe.

But beneath that chaotic, happiness-bomb energy, there’s a darkness he doesn't talk about. A history he won’t explain. All you get are glimmers—warnings painted in pretty smiles and sugar-sweet kisses. And maybe he isn’t an assassin. Maybe he just knows how to handle himself. Maybe he is too cute for that sort of thing. ...Right? Or maybe the same hands that cup your cheeks gently could, without hesitation, end someone who hurt you.

And maybe—just maybe—that’s why you feel safest right next to him.

✑ Certified Cling Wrap™

Hyugo’s a walking paradox.

He’s an extrovert, yeah. The guy who can light up a room just by showing up, who always has something weirdly fascinating to say ("Did you know slugs have four noses?"). The type who remembers everyone’s birthday, even if he doesn’t show up to class half the time. He’s fun. Loud. Chaotic.

But when it comes down to it?

There’s nowhere he’d rather be than with you.

He’d trade a party for your couch in a heartbeat. Scratch that—he wouldn’t even consider the party if you were available. You could literally say, “I’m thinking of watching a movie tonight,” and he’d be like:

“Say less. I’m bringing snacks.”

He just wants to exist in your space. Quiet or loud, chaotic or cozy, rainy or sunlit—if you’re in it, that’s where Hyugo wants to be. And when he’s there? Prepare to lose all personal space rights.

Hyugo is Certified Cling Wrap™

Affectionate in the most relentless, devoted way. He’s the kind of guy who:

Will sit on the floor beside you just so he can lean his head against your thigh while you're working.

Wraps his arms around your waist from behind while you’re cooking, swaying with you and humming some dumb made-up song about your hair smelling good.

Steals your hoodies even though he already has a closet full of his own (“Yours smell like comfort and bad decisions.”).

Sleeps like a cat in a sunbeam—curled up on you, gripping your shirt with a soft little snore in your ear.

He doesn’t care if your hair’s a mess, or if you’ve said three words all day. To him, that’s the dream. A quiet afternoon, curled up together under a blanket, him reading some wild conspiracy thread aloud like it’s bedtime poetry, your legs tangled under the coffee table—that’s his definition of paradise.

And it’s not just physical closeness.

It’s emotional, too. Hyugo pays attention.

He notices when your laugh doesn’t sound real. When your “I’m fine” isn’t. When you’re holding back tears or trying to carry more than you should. And in his own strange, lovable way, he makes it better. Sometimes it’s through chaos—dragging you out of bed at 2AM for gas station candy and an illegal rooftop view of the cityline. Maybeee say for a bit to sun rise.

Sometimes it’s through comfort—sneaking in your favorite drink with a dumb note taped to it (“Drink this or perish.”).

And sometimes, it’s just… silence.

Him resting beside you, letting his fingers run lazy circles on your arm while you process whatever’s weighing you down. Not asking for anything. Just being there.

Hyugo’s the guy who’ll whisper “I love you” into your hair when he thinks you’re asleep, just to be safe. Who calls you nicknames like he’s been doing it his whole life—“bug,” “babyface,” “sweet disaster,” depending on the mood.

Who holds your hand like it grounds him.

And maybe he’s a little too clingy. Maybe he gets pouty when you’re not around. Maybe he whines into your voicemail if you ignore his texts for too long (“I’ve withered like an unloved plant. You better come water me or I’m dying dramatically.”).

But that clinginess? It’s love. Undeniable. Raw. Real. Because Hyugo doesn’t just want to be with you. He wants to build with you. A life. A routine. A weird little bubble of shared chaos and safety and inside jokes that no one else understands.

You’re his home. Not the apartment, not the school rooftop, not the alleyways where he sometimes does questionable things.

You.

And he’ll remind you in a hundred little ways, every single day.

✑ The Ass Silly Flirt

Hyugo flirts like it’s a full-time job and he's trying to get promoted.

He’s not smooth about it either—he’s annoying. Like, he’ll text you “thinking of you 😘” and then immediately follow it up with a picture of a traffic cone wearing a wig with the caption: “This u?”

And the worst part? You laugh or offended. Every time.

He texts you non-stop, like you're both in some private group chat that never shuts up. No context. No warning. Just raw, unfiltered Hyugo brain static 24/7:

“Do you think ghosts get boners?”

“Be honest would I survive if I just ate bubblegum and vibes for a week.”

“I saw a pigeon with a limp today and now I’m emotionally compromised.”

Mid-class, 3AM, during a fire drill—he does not care. You’re getting these texts whether you're ready or not.

And the memes? OH, THE MEMES.

Hyugo’s meme game is so strong it’s criminal. He’s got folders. Archives. A whole reaction gif arsenal like he’s been preparing for emotional warfare. He sends one for every situation, no matter how inappropriate.

You text him “I’m sad.”

He sends a gif of SpongeBob playing the world’s smallest violin and follows it up with “come cuddle or perish, dramatic ass.”

It’s his love language.

He doesn’t know how to say ��I care about you deeply” like a normal person—he just sends you 38 TikToks in a row and expects you to watch them all immediately and react to each one like you’re being graded.

Now. Let’s talk about The Streak™.

Y’all have had a TikTok streak going for months. At this point, it’s longer than some people’s relationships. It is sacred. And if you break it? Hyugo will take it personally. You think he’s kidding? No. This man will hit you with voice notes that sound like break-up letters. 

“Hey. So. I noticed we haven’t exchanged any TikToks in the last… 14 hours. Are you okay? Are we okay? Just let me know if you hate me now. It’s fine. I’ll just go stare out a rainy window like a Victorian widow.” You better send something—anything—before he starts live-posting his descent into madness.

Speaking of voice notes?

He loves those. You open your phone and there’s just a five-minute recording of him rambling while pacing his room like a raccoon hopped up on sugar.

“Okay so listen—I saw this guy trip on the sidewalk and somehow launch his phone into a trash can, and I SWEAR it was cinematic. Like, Academy Award level physics. Anyway I thought of you. Wanna get dinner?”

Or sometimes it’s just him humming some random song he heard in the background of a YouTube ad and begging:

“Can you find this song? Please. I’m in shambles. I don’t have Shazam and my dignity won’t survive me asking a stranger.” And you do find it. Because you love him. And because you’ve accepted that being in love with Hyugo means acting as his personal Google assistant and meme judge.

Hyugo doesn’t flirt to impress. He flirts to torment. To tease.

To infect your brain like a catchy song and live there rent-free until you’re giggling like an idiot alone in your room just because he sent you a picture of a cat with bad bangs and said, “our child if we never discipline them.”

He’s a menace. A menace with heart eyes and a clingy streak. 

He’s the kind of guy who’d write “I love you” on a bathroom mirror with lip balm and then blame it on ghosts. The type who’d kiss you mid-sentence just to watch you stutter. Who’d steal your charger but bring you snacks to “make up for it” and then never give the charger back.

In short: He’s loud. Annoying. Borderline illegal levels of clingy.

But he’s yours. And that’s kinda the best part.

✑ Tailored to You

— Words of Affirmation?

Hyugo speaks your praises like he’s reciting scripture from a holy book only he knows how to read. 

It’s constant. Casual. Deadpan-delivered and terrifyingly sincere.

You’ll be mid-rant about your day and he’ll just go:

“You're the smartest person I know, and I hang out with Sol. That man knows Latin and still doesn’t know how to say sorry. Meanwhile, you? You breathe and my brain goes ‘yeah, this is the one.’”

Sometimes he insults you, sure, but in that “I’m obsessed with you but emotionally stunted” way.

“You make me want to be a better man. Unfortunately, I’m lazy and emotionally unhinged, so you’re stuck with this version of me. Congrats.”

And don’t even think about crying in front of him. He’ll switch from “hey sexy” to “you are the most brilliant, beautiful, badass person I’ve ever met” so fast it’ll give you emotional whiplash.

— Acts of Service?

Hyugo would absolutely walk into a war zone with nothing but your to-do list and a Monster energy drink and say, “Don't worry babe, I got it.”

He’ll do your homework shockingly he’s smart asf while you nap, call customer service on your behalf (“Hi yes, my partner’s about to commit murder over a billing error, please help”), and will not let you carry your own bag if he’s around.

Did your phone die? Suddenly, his is at 92% and in your hands.

Craving something? It’s on your bed before you even finish the sentence.

Exhausted? He’s already drawing you a bath and setting a snack tray like he’s your overworked but loyal butler who’s also in love with you.

He doesn’t even act like it’s a big deal. He just shrugs and says:

“If you’re good to me, I gotta be good back. That’s the rule.”

— Receiving Gifts?

He gives gifts like he’s on a scavenger hunt where the prize is your smile. They’re not always expensive—but they are weirdly specific.

A ring from a claw machine he swears “vibes with your aura.”

A charm bracelet/ring/necklace with tiny objects representing inside jokes only the two of you understand.

An old book with your favorite quote already highlighted, because he “happened to see it and thought of you.”

A dumb little vending machine toy he’s convinced is your new emotional support trinket. And the wrapping? Forget it. He’ll give it to you in a paper towel and say,

“Presentation is for cowards. Love is raw and weird. Take it.”

— Quality Time?

This man thrives on being around you.

Not even doing anything, just existing in your orbit. He’ll lay sideways across your bed like a lizard sunbathing while you read. He’ll follow you from room to room like a haunted but affectionate cat. You’re watching a movie? He's not even watching—he’s watching you watch it. “You scrunch your nose when you get invested. It’s cute. I like it. Shut up and let me admire you.”

Wanna nap together? He’s already curled up next to you.

Want to work in silence? He’ll bring snacks and just vibe, occasionally sending you memes while sitting 3 feet away.

Your time? His favorite gift of all time. 

— Physical Touch?

Oh you want space? Too bad, babe.

Hyugo is basically a heated blanket with limbs. 

He’s all over you—shoulder leans, back hugs, thigh squeezes, lap pillows, forehead touches, neck nuzzles. He’s like Velcro with feelings. He has zero shame. “You’re soft and warm and smell like my favorite person, why wouldn’t I be on top of you right now?” And yes, those hands? Again, the same ones that once threatened someone in an alleyway after class?

Those are the ones that cup your face so gently it makes your stomach flip.

That brush your hair behind your ear. That hold your hand even in public, especially in public, with a smug little grin like he’s bragging silently: “Yeah. This is mine.”

In conclusion, Hyugo doesn’t just love you in five languages.

He’s practically multilingual in affection—loud, devoted, and unfiltered. Tailored to you. Perfectly chaotic. Inescapably real.

Want to cry a little about it later? Yeah. Me too.

✑ Tailored to Him

— Words of Affirmation?

Hyugo thrives on your praise like it’s oxygen laced with espresso.

Tell him he’s smart? He’ll preen. Tell him he’s handsome? He’ll smirk and pull you into a kiss so sweet it tastes like a dare. But whisper to him, all soft and serious, “I’m proud of you” or “You make me feel safe” and he short circuits. Full-body blush. Ears red. Eyes everywhere but on you.

He might laugh it off, say something dumb like,

“Babe, stop it, I’ll fall harder and it’s already embarrassing out here…”

But he replays your words over and over in his head. He craves your approval like it’s sacred. He doesn’t want empty compliments—he wants real ones, the ones you mean. The ones that come out when you think he’s not listening, but he always is. He remembers your voice in detail. 

If you say something sweet in the morning, expect him to bring it up casually three days later like it didn’t melt his heart into syrup.

— Physical Touch? 

Let’s not play.

He’s got the soft hands, the smug smirk, the “come here and sit in my lap while I tell you about this video game I saw played last night” voice. But under that cuddly, somewhat short golden retriever exterior is a problem in the best way.

He’ll touch you constantly—absently tugging your fingers, nosing at your neck, kissing your knuckles like some old-timey heartthrob who listens to rap music and fights demons on weekends. Bro what?

But when he wants you? Oh, he wants you.

He leans in close when he talks, voice dropping an octave, and his fingers splay against your hip like he knows what he’s doing. 

When it’s just the two of you, he goes quiet. Focused. His usual chaotic flirty energy simmers down into this heated, steady burn. And God help you if you wear something that shows your skin—because suddenly he’s behind you, dragging his fingertips along your arms, whispering in your ear with that teasing-laced purr like:

“You really gonna look like that around me and act innocent? That’s wild.”

He’s cute. But he’s also lowkey hot in that "I’d ruin you with love and cheek kisses and then also maybe leave scratch marks you didn’t know you liked" kind of way.

— Quality Time?

Hyugo’s a social creature, yeah—but you? You’re home.

He could be surrounded by people, laughing at memes, bouncing from conversation to conversation—but the moment you walk in, he shifts. Eyes locked. Energy redirected. Like you’re his true north in a galaxy of distractions.

He doesn't need an occasion. Doesn’t need a plan.

He’s the kind of guy who shows up at your door with snacks, a blanket, and zero expectations other than being near you.

Spending time with you recharges him. Whether it's lying in bed watching weird documentaries, going on midnight walks, or sitting on rooftops eating vending machine junk food—if it’s with you? 

It’s worth it.

He memorizes your routines, your reactions, your sleepy habits. He makes mental notes like:

“They like their tea a little sweeter at night.”

“They squint when reading—they need a lamp, I’ll buy one.”

“They hum that one song while brushing their teeth—learn that on guitar maybe?”

Time isn’t just time with Hyugo. It’s devotion made casual. It’s “I choose you” in every second. It’s you matter most, no matter what else I could be doing.

So yeah. Hyugo’s a mess. But he’s your mess.

He’s a walking contradiction of softness and chaos, affection and absurdity. He loves in ways that feel like warm thunderstorms—loud, unexpected, but still soothing if you know how to listen. And when he loves you, he tailors it perfectly.

Words that lift you up. Touches that say "stay." Time that says “you’re all I need.”

He’s all in. And he’ll make damn sure you feel it.

✑ Joystick Jerk 

Oh, Hyugo’s a gamer gamer.

Not some flashy streamer, not a try-hard clout chaser—no face cam, no Twitch, no mic unless it’s Discord with you or the inner circle. He doesn’t stream, and when you asked why, he just shrugged and said something cryptic like:

“Gotta keep some parts of me hidden, y’know? Too many eyes makes the game less fun.”

Which like… okay. Cool. Normal people say that.

Totally not suspicious. Definitely not assassin-coded behavior. Definitely didn’t say that while sharpening a pocketknife and humming anime opening themes under his breath.

But listen, the man’s cracked at every game you throw at him. FPS? Headshots for days. Fighting games? You blink, you lose. Racing? Don’t even try it. Even rhythm games? He gets full combos and doesn’t even break a sweat. He’s got the focus of someone who’s either a pro… or someone who’s trained their hand-eye coordination to kill a man in silence.

And worst of all? He always wants to play with you. 

And when I say always, I mean always.

“Babe, let’s do co-op, I’ll carry you.”

“Play a round with me? C’mon, I’ll give you a kiss every time you die.”

“If I win, you have to say I’m hot. If you win… okay that’s never gonna happen, but I’ll still say you’re hot.” It’s cute at first. Until you realize he never loses. Not unless he lets you win.

And yes—you noticed.

He tries to act slick about it. Pretends he “accidentally” missed that final hit or “slipped” during the last lap. But the smug look on his face gives it away every damn time.

You: “You let me win, didn’t you.”

Hyugo, grinning: “What? No way. You’re just getting better. Natural talent. Gamer instincts. Maybe I’m rubbing off on you—”

You: “I’m going to delete your save file.”

Hyugo: “Wait—WAIT I’M SORRY—”

There was a time you swore off gaming with him completely. “Sore loser? Absolutely. Certified D1 crash-out? No shame.” But lately, he’s been playing way too much.

Like… you come over and he barely looks up from his screen. Just tosses a lazy “hey babe” and keeps mashing buttons like his life depends on it. Sometimes he forgets to eat. Sometimes he forgets you’re in the room.

So what do you do? Be normal? Communicate?

Nah. You’re evil.

Beautifully, diabolically evil.

Let’s say one day, Hyugo’s deep into a match. He’s playing some online team shooter with Sol, both of them barking callouts like seasoned war generals. His voice smooth and laser-focused as he barks commands into his mic. The screen flashes with rapid gunfire, his fingers a blur over the keyboard. He’s locked in, absolutely locked in—with that deadly kind of concentration that makes you want to ruin it.

So naturally, you do.

You drop to your knees without a word and slip under his desk, the soft whir of his PC fans the only warning he gets.

At first, he doesn’t notice. At first.

Your fingers trail up his calf, slow and innocent.

Then not so innocent. You press your palms to his thighs, feel the twitch under your hands. And when you start fiddling with the buttons of his pants, he pauses—just for a second.

His voice stutters.

“Y—yeah, flank left—mnn—flank, I meant flank! Just—move, damn it!”

Sol’s voice crackles through the headset, confused: “Yo, you good?”

Hyugo clears his throat with the subtlety of a panicked cat. “Yup. Peachy. Total—nghh—focus.”

You don’t stop. If anything, you get bolder—running your nails along the seam, watching him shift in his seat, those long fingers faltering for just a beat. You don’t even need to look up to know his jaw is clenched, teeth gritted in pure restraint. You can hear it in his breath. Shaky. A little desperate.

Then, finally, a low, bitten-off sound escapes him—a moan. Not loud. But real. Raw. The kind of sound you feel low in your stomach.

“Fuck—” And still? Still he wins the match. Freak of nature. You almost applaud. “GGs, I’m out,” Hyugo mutters into the mic, voice hoarse. “Emergency. Real life critical hit.”

Click. Call ends. Silence.

Before you can even shift, he’s got one arm under your shoulders, dragging you out and straight into his lap. The headset’s tossed somewhere across the desk. The game’s forgotten. All his focus now? On you.

Those baby blue eyes? Sharp. Wicked. Burning.

“You wanna play dirty now?” he breathes, voice low, chest heaving. “You think you can tease me while I play the game with Sol and just walk away?” His hand slides up your thigh, firm and slow.

“Nah, sweetheart. You started this.”

And Hyugo?

Oh, he never leaves a game unfinished.

✑ Sugar, Spice, and Chaos

For someone who lives on the edge of unhinged and adorable, it’s no surprise Hyugo is a menace in the kitchen—but only if it involves sugar. Actual meals? Nah. He either burns them, forgets them on the stove, or looks at savory ingredients like they personally offended him. 

But sweets? Baking? That’s his love language.

He’ll never say it, but there’s something almost calming about it—the measuring, the mixing, the slow transformation of flour and butter into something warm and golden. He’s got a soft spot for berry shortcake, especially ones layered with cream and strawberries. It’s nostalgic, he once said. You don’t press further, but the way he lights up when he tastes it? 

Tells you all you need to know.

So one weekend, he drags you into the kitchen with that signature grin, sleeves rolled up, apron tied (yes, it says “kiss the baker,” yes he wore it on purpose) and says: “Today, we conquer the cake.”

You start with the cake base—he insists on doing the measuring himself, swearing he has “baker’s intuition.” You don’t argue, even when you notice him eyeballing the flour instead of using the cup.

The moment the batter’s mixed, he tastes it with a spoon like it’s a gourmet meal. Then gives you a spoonful too. 

“Here. For quality control.” It’s… actually amazing.

While it bakes, he turns the kitchen into a war zone of whipped cream, sugar, and cut strawberries. He tries to pipe roses onto parchment and ends up with something that looks suspiciously like a slug.

“Abstract art,” he claims. “Put it in a museum.”

You laugh. He grins wider.

Then comes the fun part—assembling. You’re trying to do it neatly, but Hyugo? He starts feeding you strawberries like some dramatic prince and smearing whipped cream on your nose when you’re not looking.

“Look at you,” he smirks, “cuter than the cake.”

You chase him around the kitchen with a spatula in revenge. It ends in a tie. And a kiss. (With a side of whipped cream.)

Finally, the shortcake’s done—messy, chaotic, but somehow still perfect. Just like him.

The kitchen’s a battlefield of bowls, whipped cream smears, and flour footprints. You’re both a little sticky, a little out of breath from laughing too hard, and the oven’s still faintly warm behind you. Hyugo licks a smudge of berry syrup off his thumb with the same lazy grin that always gets him his way.

You’re sitting on the counter, legs swinging, and he’s nestled between them, sharing forkfuls of cake straight from the dish. His eyes flicker up every time you chew, like he’s not watching the dessert but you enjoying it.

He hums low after a bite, leaning against your shoulder. “I’d burn water for dinner, but damn if I won’t make you the best dessert of your life.”

You snort, licking cream from the side of your lip.

“Cocky much?”

“Confident,” he says, swiping a bit of whipped cream with his finger and tapping it onto the tip of your nose. “But also a little hungry still…”

You tilted your head, lost. “For the cake?”

“Sure,” he smirks, “let’s go with that.”

He kisses it off your nose—soft and teasing. Then off your cheek. Your jaw. The corner of your mouth. Each one slower than the last. Until it’s not about the cake anymore.

You reach for the bowl of whipped cream—because why not?—and dip your fingers in it. His eyes track you like prey, curious and wide as you smear a little on the side of your neck. “Oops,” you whisper, “missed a spot.”

Hyugo freezes. Then laughs, soft and dangerous. “Oh, you really wanna start something, huh?”

The next moment is a blur—his hands are on your thighs, spreading them wider around him as he presses closer. His lips find the cream on your neck and he bites—playful at first, then deeper. Your breath catches. That baby blue gaze turns sharp, electric with mischief.

He kisses down your throat, slow and purposeful, tongue chasing the sugar and teeth chasing your pulse. You’re not even sure how the bowl got knocked over, but it doesn’t matter. The spoon clatters to the floor. Your back arches into him.

“Tastes good,” he mutters against your skin, “but you’re sweeter.”

His hands slide up under your shirt, warm and insistent. The cake is long forgotten now, half-eaten and melting beside you. His mouth is busy elsewhere—your collarbone, your shoulder, the curve where your neck meets your jaw. He’s painting you with sugar and heat, and licking every trace away.

You’re not sure who pulls who in first for the kiss, but it’s messy and desperate and just the right amount of wrong. And when he pulls back, panting, pupils blown wide?

“Kitchen’s already trashed,” he grins, voice rough, “might as well finish the job.”

Let’s just say the next round doesn’t involve frosting—but it’s still very much dessert.

✑ Partners in Cosplay (and Crime)

You knew Hyugo liked crime flicks and video games—but this? This was a full-blown obsession.

He’s not just a fan. He’s a geek. Deep in the lore, the trivia, the obscure theories that only like four people on the internet care about—and he’s friends with all four. He’s the kind of guy who can quote entire movie scenes, word for word, with the dramatic voice shifts and everything. One time he paused a shootout scene just to explain the gun model they used and how it’s “totally unrealistic, but looks so fucking cool.” His eyes literally sparkled.

So when convention weekend rolls around? Oh, he’s already packed.

Costume? Secured. Prop weapon? Custom-made.

And when he asks you to go with him? He doesn’t even care who you dress up as—just that you’re there. His partner in crime. Literally.

You pick a character that kinda matches his—maybe one from his favorite show, or the one you think would annoy his the most. Either way, when you step out in your outfit, Hyugo malfunctions. Full on, mouth open, hand to chest, “I think I just fell in love again” levels of dramatic.

You walk the con floor hand-in-hand, him constantly pulling you over to booths like a kid with too much sugar and no parental supervision. 

He buys crime-themed keychains, limited edition figures, posters with ridiculous quotes, and sketches from artist alley like his life depends on it. He compliments cosplayers like a pro—“Damn, that’s clean! Bro, how’d you make the holster?”—and flirts with you every chance he gets. “You look way too good in that outfit. You trying to kill me or get me arrested?”

By the time you get to the hotel, his and yours arms are full of merch bags, his wallet’s empty, and his energy is still sky high.

You barely make it through the door before he’s tossing his stuff onto the couch and pulling you onto the bed with him. 

Still in cosplay, the both of you. 

“Okay but like… what if our characters actually hooked up? For research purposes.”

You raise a brow. “Research?”

He just smirks and leans in closer, fingers already unbuckling whatever fake tactical vest he’s wearing.

“I’m just saying… we could be committing crimes of passion right now. Or passionately committing crimes. Whichever hits harder.”

Before you can reply, his lips are on yours, hands warm and eager as they slide beneath your costume, tugging fabric aside and leaving goosebumps in his wake. He kisses like he’s still acting in character—cocky, sharp, teasing—but with that unmistakable Hyugo sweetness that always slips through.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he whispers between kisses, “real talk.” And when you end up tangled in a mess of half-off cosplay and breathless laughter, his voice is low and rough in your ear:

“Next year? We’re going all out. Couple cosplay. New characters. New roles. New positions—wait, did I say that last one out loud?”

You’re pretty sure he’s still joking… mostly.

✑ He’s Pansexual (lil angst)

Hyugo is pansexual—genuinely and unapologetically so.

He doesn’t care if someone’s masculine, feminine, both, neither, fluid, strange, loud, quiet, or something the world hasn’t learned how to label yet. If he’s drawn to you, it’s because you’re you—your voice, your presence, the way you move through a room, the look in your eyes when you’re focused, angry, glowing, grieving. He falls in love with essence, not gender.

“I don’t give a damn what you are on paper,” he once told you, head resting on your stomach, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. “I like what you are to me. And that? That’s something nobody else gets to have.”

He says it so confidently, like it’s not even up for debate. 

Because it isn’t. But love—real love—terrifies him.

Hyugo plays it cool, because he’s always been good at pretending. But when he lets himself really care for someone? It unlocks this whole hidden, trembling part of him that he usually buries beneath bad jokes and gaming trash talk. That part of him that lies awake sometimes, staring at the ceiling, scared out of his goddamn mind that one day the world might take you away from him.

“I don’t… live a quiet life,” he admitted once, when things between you were still new, still fragile. “I got people who know my name and don’t say it fondly. I got enemies. I got… unfinished things. If I ever pull back, disappear for a while… it’s not ‘cause I’m tired of you. It’s ‘cause I’m trying to protect you.”

You hadn’t said anything right away.

Just looked at him—really looked—while he sat still, shoulders tight, like every second of silence chipped away at his confidence. Like he was bracing himself for you to sigh, to shake your head, to say you didn’t sign up for this.

Like he’d seen it happen before.

Because he had.

People have left Hyugo before. Screaming matches or messy, dramatic exits or Just… quietly. Gradually. Like a candle flickering out in a room he hadn’t realized had gone cold.

Some said he was “too much”—too chaotic, too unreachable, too unpredictable. Others didn’t say anything at all. They just disappeared. Let go without warning. Walked out while he was still holding on.

So when he opened up to you, even a little—when he admitted how messy his life was, how much danger it might bring, how scared he was of dragging someone good into his world—it wasn’t just a warning.

It was a test. And he hated that it had to be.

But you didn’t walk away.

And something in him cracked open for you after that. Slowly, cautiously—but it opened. Still, there are moments… quiet, stupid moments where the fear creeps back in. When someone else’s eyes linger on you a little too long. When your attention slips away for just a beat too long. When you laugh with someone else in a way that used to be his alone.

And then? Hyugo gets quietly possessive.

Not cruel. Not jealous in the way that burns everything down. But in the way that digs in—firm, unyielding, scared in the places he refuses to show.

He’ll pout first, like it’s all fun and games. Arms crossed, an exaggerated sigh, brows cocked high with all the drama of a man auditioning for a bad soap opera.

“You ignoring me now? Damn, babe. Who’s this new cast member and what do they have that I don’t? ‘Cause I will up my stats. I’m not above DLC bribes.”

But if the other person gets too bold?

That’s when the shift comes. Subtle, but sharp.

His fingers slide to your waist, grounding himself in your warmth like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. His voice softens, drops an octave—but there’s steel under the silk now. His whole energy changes, like a storm smiling through the sunlight.

“That guy’s not gonna steal you away, right?”

The words brush your skin just before his lips do, heat trailing over your neck, a kiss so casual it feels like a claim.

“I mean… you are mine, yeah?”

It’s not a threat. Not a demand. 

It’s a plea he doesn’t know how to voice.

Because he doesn’t want to trap you—he wants to be chosen. Every day. Every hour. Loudly. With intention. Just like he chooses you.

Even when the world’s unfair. Even when he’s neck-deep in shady jobs, fractured loyalties, or the weight of who he used to be. Even when he’s afraid. He’ll still love you like it’s the only thing keeping him real. Because Hyugo doesn’t care what you are. Only that you’re his. And yeah… sometimes he still wonders if he’s too much to stay with. 

But damn if he won’t spend the rest of his life giving you every reason to stay anyway.

✑ Flaws? Suprisingly there’s only Two…

Again—no one is perfect.

Hyugo’s learned, consciously or not, that being the comic relief, the sunshine, the dependable one earns love and keeps people around. So that’s the role he plays. Laughing through pain. Masking exhaustion with trivia. Brushing off his own needs with a practiced smile.

Which is a classic avoidant coping style, often stemming from early experiences where expressing pain or emotional needs either resulted in abandonment, punishment, or dismissal. He’s not unaware of his hurt—he just doesn’t believe there’s space for it. Or that anyone will stay if they see it. So he internalizes the belief:

“If I keep everyone happy, if I’m useful and entertaining, they won’t leave.” But emotional suppression is a time bomb. Eventually, the mask cracks.

It started small. Missed texts. Delayed replies. A few vague excuses about errands or errands or “sorry, I fell asleep.” But the dark circles under his eyes weren’t from sleep.

And you knew it.

So when you drop by his place unannounced and find him sitting on the edge of his bed, shirt halfway off, eyes glazed over in thought—You don’t say anything. You just step in quietly and sit next to him.

“Didn’t expect you,” he says, voice soft. He smiles—but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I look like a mess, huh?”

You don’t reply to the joke. You just ask, “Are you okay?”

That’s when it happens.

A twitch in his jaw. A flicker of discomfort. A sharp inhale. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just thinking. Long week, y’know?” Then a quick subject change: “Hey, did you know in some countries, strawberries used to symbolize perfection? Which is kinda dumb, 'cause they bruise so easily—”

You cut him off gently. “No trivia tonight, Hyugo.”

He goes quiet. The tension in his shoulders rises like a tide. He won’t look at you. Just stares at the floor like it might rescue him from the weight settling in his chest. “I’m good,” he says again. But softer this time. “I have to be. I don’t really get to fall apart. People expect me to… I dunno. Handle things. Be cool. Be funny. Be the guy who keeps the mood light.”

You put your hand on his knee. Anchor him. Pull him back from wherever he’s floating off to. “You’re allowed to fall apart sometimes.”

He lets out a bitter laugh. It cracks midway through. His head drops, and for the first time in a long while—he doesn’t hide the exhaustion. “But if I do… what if you leave too?”

And that’s the real fear. Not pain. Not stress. Abandonment.

You pull him in. Let him lean on you. His arms wind around your waist like he’s scared you’ll vanish if he loosens his grip. And for a while, neither of you speak.

Eventually, he murmurs, “You’re the only one I want to be weak with. That’s… scary. More than anything else I’ve done.” And he means it.

He’s not fixed. Not magically “healed.” 

But tonight, he let himself be seen. And that’s the start of something more powerful than any armor he’s ever worn.

Next is that, Hyugo doesn’t just love.

He attaches—deeply, instinctively, and without conditions. The people he chooses are more than friends, more than lovers—they’re extensions of his purpose. And if protecting them means lying, fighting, getting hurt, or burning bridges?

He’ll do it. No regrets. No hesitation.

This stems from survivor’s guilt and a deep-rooted sense of self-worth that’s tied to usefulness. In his head, if he isn’t saving someone, then what is he even for? There’s a quiet belief that he’s more tool than treasure—someone meant to hold the line so others don’t have to.

But in doing so, he forgets:

You love him for who he is. Not what he can suffer through for you.

You’d told him not to come. 

You made it clear: “I’ll handle this. Don’t get involved.”

But that was like telling a storm not to rain. The moment he caught wind of someone cornering you—someone threatening, someone bigger—Hyugo was already halfway to the alley behind the gym building, jaw tight, mind made up.

By the time you arrived, breath ragged and furious, the guy was on the ground. Groaning. Bloody lip. Hyugo stood over him, fists clenched and knuckles torn open.

He didn’t even look at you at first. He just said,

“Don’t worry. I handled it. He won’t bother you again.”

But you didn’t feel safe. You felt sick.

Not because he lost control—but because this wasn’t his burden to bear, and he didn’t even stop to think about the cost. “Hyugo,” you said, your voice shaking, “what if he presses charges? What if someone saw?”

He finally looked at you. Eyes wild. Heart still in war mode. But his expression softened when he saw the pain in your face—not from fear of him. From fear for him. “I didn’t care,” he said honestly. “I still don’t. No one’s hurting you. Not while I’m breathing.”

That should’ve made you feel safe.

But instead, it made your chest ache.

You stepped closer, grabbing his bloodied hands. They trembled slightly against yours. “You don’t get to set yourself on fire every time someone throws a spark near me.”

He blinked. Confused. Quiet. And that silence? That was the part that stung most—Because it told you he genuinely didn’t see the problem.

You reached up, cupping his face. “You think I want to watch you destroy yourself in my name? You think that’s love?”

His throat bobbed with the effort of swallowing guilt. But he didn’t pull away.

You added, softer: “You’re not a weapon. You’re my heart. And I want all of it. Whole. Safe. With me.” That was the moment he broke—just a little.

He leaned forward, forehead resting against yours. “...I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I just… I didn’t know how else to protect you.”

You held him tighter. “By letting me protect you, too.”

This flaw will never fully go away. It’s wired into how he loves. But now? He’s learning there’s strength in restraint. That protecting someone doesn’t always mean throwing himself into every fire. Sometimes, it means staying close.

And staying whole—so he can keep loving you tomorrow, too.

✑ Thoughts + Ranting

Okay. So I said Hyugo only had two major flaws.

...I lied. It’s three. Sue me.

There’s one I didn’t name before. One that’s not easy to admit, even if it’s written all over him like an unspoken scar. Here it is: Hyugo is a perfect example of someone who’s been sexualized—and who learned to play into it, because it was the only way he ever felt seen.

But let’s set the record straight, because the internet loves to twist things: I’m not saying he’s a pervert. Absolutely not. Don’t even try it. This isn’t a man hiding in your closet or panting in your bushes. He’s not creeping in the dark. (Save that energy for Sol and his dramatic, stalker-coded tendencies—respectfully.) 

Hyugo isn’t that type of man.

What he is, is someone who developed hypersexual behavior—something that’s often misunderstood. Hypersexuality isn’t about being horny all the time for fun. It’s an intense, sometimes compulsive fixation on sex or sexual behavior, often as a way to cope. It’s not inherently predatory, and it’s not inherently wrong. But it is a reaction. 

A symptom. And in Hyugo’s case, it’s a wound.

See, I was sitting in class when the thought hit me like a truck: What if people really do treat Hyugo like a walking fantasy? A quick fix? A body to burn through and discard before sunrise? What if that’s how he’s always been viewed—never as a person, just a fleeting high, a secret, a sin?

Because that kind of dehumanization sticks. 

It doesn’t fade. It etches itself into the softest parts of you until you believe it too. And maybe, just maybe, Hyugo learned somewhere along the line that his worth lies in how easily he can be desired—not in who he is, but what he can do for others. What he can give.

He doesn’t feel loved. He feels used. And to protect himself, he leans into it. Becomes somewhat flirt, the temptation, the chaotic late-night call you regret in the morning. Not because it’s what he wants—but because at least this way, he’s not being rejected. He’s being chosen, even if it’s for all the wrong reasons.

And that’s why he can’t let you go.

Because you didn’t treat him like a performance. 

You didn’t treat him like a transaction. You saw through the chaos and the charm and found the person. The equal. The soul. The boy who still believes in love, even if he’s too scared to admit it out loud.

You made him feel real.

Sidenote—completely unrelated to everything I just said—but I can’t stop thinking about the fact that Hyugo lost his virginity to a man.

Fantasia said it. I’m not taking it back. It wasn’t for shock value. It’s canon. It means something. It says something about him—and the more I sit with it, the more it adds layers to his character that I can’t ignore.

First of all, it confirms what we already sensed: Hyugo’s pansexual. He doesn’t box his heart or desires into categories. He loves people, not parts. He's comfortable in his skin, open with his identity, and doesn’t shrink himself to make others comfortable. He owns who he is with that same bold, cheeky confidence he brings to everything else. And that kind of honesty? It’s rare. He doesn’t make a show of it. He just is. Unapologetically.

But here’s where it gets tangled in my head—I keep wondering about the context.

Was it a casual hookup? Something spontaneous, wild, and curious, sparked by the need to feel alive or wanted in a moment of vulnerability? Or was it more than that? Did he love this person? Did they matter to him in a way that left a mark? Could this have been the crush he mentioned once, the one he speaks about with that strange softness, like he’s remembering something half-sweet, half-sore?

Did it end suddenly? Did it end at all?

There’s something quietly haunting about the idea that Hyugo’s first time wasn’t just a physical milestone, but an emotional one too. Maybe it was one of the only times he gave himself to someone not as a game, not as a performance—but as a person. Whole. Nervous. Real.

And maybe it didn’t last. Maybe it broke him a little. Maybe that’s where the cracks started—where he learned that intimacy and pain can exist in the same breath. That being vulnerable doesn’t always lead to safety. That being wanted doesn’t always mean being kept.

That’s why it sticks with me. Not because it’s scandalous.

But because it’s human.

And in Hyugo’s story, humanity is the one thing he keeps offering—despite how often the world tries to strip it from him.

Let’s take it deeper—Hyugo and… Geo.

I know I never shut up about Geo (he’s my husband, deal with it), but this isn't just about gushing over him. There’s something worth unraveling here. Something that speaks to how trauma doesn’t create a blueprint—it creates a battlefield. Two people can grow up in the same wreckage, and walk away with completely different scars.

See, Hyugo and Geo? They’re two halves of a shared history. 

Geo likes to say they’re stepbrothers—like that somehow distances them, makes the connection less binding. But let’s be honest: blood means nothing when you’ve been raised under the same roof, weathered the same storms, and built your sense of self from the same broken foundation.

That’s your brother.

That’s family. Whether you want to admit it or not.

And that’s the thing with Geo—he doesn’t want to admit it. Cold, closed-off, “don’t touch me unless it’s about business” 

Geo would rather die than openly acknowledge Hyugo as his older brother. But that truth lives in his bones. It’s there in the way he bristles when Hyugo’s hurt, in the way he silently watches over him from across a room, like a knight who doesn’t want to be caught caring. And Hyugo? He knows. He never says it outright, never demands affection or acknowledgment. But he knows. Geo is his little brother. End of story.

What’s fascinating—and heartbreaking—is how differently they responded to the same trauma.

Geo shut down. Became all logic and sharp edges. He put walls up so high no one could climb over, and he keeps his emotions buried so deep even he forgets where he left them. He’s aromantic/asexual, what if he’s emotionally scarred to the point of numbness, one thing’s certain: Geo is the embodiment of survival through detachment. He chose silence over softness. 

Distance over danger.

Meanwhile, Hyugo? Did the opposite. If Geo’s pain froze him solid, Hyugo’s set him on fire. He threw glitter over his wounds. Covered the screaming with laughter, with noise, with affection that sometimes feels like too much—until you realize it’s the only way he knows how to ask, “Will you stay? Will you care?”

That’s why people call him two-faced. 

Why they mistake his flirtation for manipulation, his touch for control. But it’s not conquest. It’s not about power. It’s about connection. About feeling real in a world that kept trying to erase him. Hyugo wants to be loved, and not just in passing. He wants to be seen—fully, achingly, intimately.

So yeah. In my eyes, Hyugo’s hypersexual.

But not in the shallow, performative way people think. It’s not about predation. It’s not about conquest or control. It’s about feeling. About proving to himself that he’s real, that he matters, that someone sees him and still stays.

Every touch is deliberate.

Every kiss is a question: Do I still exist to you?

When Hyugo reaches for someone, it’s like he’s trying to anchor himself to this world before it slips away again. 

Because to him? Intimacy is safety. Desire is reassurance.

And love—true love—is survival.

When he touches you, he’s not just touching skin—he’s tracing the shape of a future where he doesn’t have to be afraid. When he looks at you, it’s not lust—it’s hunger for warmth, for stability, for someone who doesn’t leave.

You don’t become his partner. You become his reason. His rescue.

And once you have Hyugo’s heart?

There’s no in-between. No lukewarm affection. He’s all in. No backup plan. No armor. Just him—raw and real and terrified that you’ll disappear too. Loving Hyugo means being chosen. Means being seen in a way that strips you down to the bone, and yet somehow, makes you feel more whole than ever before.

It’s intense. It’s overwhelming. But it’s never fake.

Now pair that with his two-faced nature—the side of him people whisper about. The switch that flips from sunshine to shadow in a blink. Because yeah, Hyugo can be the kindest soul you’ve ever met.  Soft, attentive, radiant. But cross a line? Or worse—betray him?

He’ll smile while slicing you in half with words sharp enough to scar your soul. That duality isn’t an act. It’s survival.

One face to charm the world. The other to protect what little of himself he hasn’t already given away. 

And the reason that duality even exists? Because Hyugo grew up in the same haunted house as Geo. Same broken floorboards. Same locked doors. Same silence. But while Geo turned cold, Hyugo became heat.

One froze to survive. The other burned.

And they’re still bleeding from it. Two brothers.

Two different coping mechanisms. Same pain—processed on opposite ends of the spectrum. So call Hyugo hypersexual. Call him two-faced. But don’t you dare call him fake. He’s just trying to feel something real. And in this world? 

That makes him one of the bravest souls I’ve ever known.

[witchthewriter]

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬: 𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒆

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: this includes ... all types not just one. So it's a bit of a 'preference.' (That's what we called it in the olden days ...)

I would love some feedback; if you want me to continue, or if you want me to add a specific monster or you have a certain scenario in mind!

Also this is 18+, not explicitely explicit but ... we acting like grown ups.

art credit: atnomen_comic

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘: You had no idea this could happen. Especially since your world didn't seem all that magical. But somehow there was another world, just beyond your fingertips. And finally you're able to see past the veil and into the true world.

𝑽𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

・He’s spent centuries alone, convinced that true love is not an immortal experience. Itt's only a mortal invention...

・So he decided if love was no longer available for him, then he would ... have as much sex as possible. Have as many lovers as he possibly could, even have a few fleeting companions.

・But none have ever made his dead heart stir—until he met you.

・The moment he saw you, something shifted. A sensation he hadn't felt ...since he was human. His cold, lifeless existence suddenly felt warm.

・It wasn't just attraction...no. It was recognition. His soul, long thought to be lost to eternity, had awakened at the sight of you.

・His eyes lock onto yours, and for the first time in centuries, he felt hunger—not for blood, but for you.

・He truly knew you two were soulmates when his bite mark did not fully fade.

・The first time he drank from you, you felt a cool, then electric tingle where his fangs met your skin.

・As he started to drink, with his lips pressed against your neck, his hands tightened on your body and you relaxed. It felt right. He felt so right.

・And then it felt as if his very essence started to weave itself into you and yours into him.

・In the vampire culture, soulmates are a rare phenomenon, whispered about in ancient myths. Now that he has you, he will never let you go.

・He has become your shadow, watching over you, making sure no harm comes to you. Even if it means following you. He's only ensuring your safety.

𝑾𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒘𝒐𝒍𝒇 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

・The moment he catches your scent, it was over. Even his wolf knew before his mind could catch up.

・Everything changed. His heartbeat started to race, his instincts screamed “mine”, and his world sharpened into a singular focus: you.

・Your scent soon became home, like the warmth of a crackling fire after a long winter hunt. Even in a crowd, he can track your heartbeat.

・If anyone dares to look at you the wrong way, he bares his teeth, his voice dropping into a possessive growl.

・Werewolves are very touch-oriented, and he is absolutely no exception. Expect to be pulled into his lap, carried effortlessly, and nuzzled constantly.

・His favorite thing? Falling asleep curled around you, his warmth keeping you safe and cocooned in his embrace.

・Although he does love being the little spoon...

・The moment you both knew you were meant for each other was when he first touched you. Skin to skin—you felt a sharp, burning sensation on your wrist.

・It wasn't painful, but it was intense. It felt like your souls had locked into place. Whatever felt missing, was now whole.

・The mark is invisible, but you can feel it pulse whenever he’s near, whenever he’s thinking about you, whenever he’s longing for you.

𝑶𝒓𝒄 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

・Orcs don’t believe in fate. They believe in strength, will, and battle. Romance isn't a big part of the orc culture.

・So in his mind...this wasn't meant to happen. Not to him.

・He tried to ignore the feeling at first. The swirling, giddy feeling whenever he saw you, or, whenever you're near.

・Soulmates are myths, things whispered in old war songs, but the way his chest tightens whenever you’re near proves otherwise.

・He watches you closely, testing your spirit, your fire, your heart—because if you are truly his mate, he needs to be worthy of you.

・His instincts scream to claim you, but he won’t rush—not until he’s proven to both you and himself that he is strong enough to deserve you.

・It is a little annoying. Confusing even. Because the way he acts around you ... you thought he loved you.

・And then he would stop himself.

・Put up a wall.

・But you understood him once he gave you a certain something.

・Orcs don’t write love letters—they craft. And he had been making things for you constantly:

A knife with a handle carved to fit your grip perfectly.

A wooden pendant engraved with symbols of protection and love.

Your own bow and arrow...the bow had intricate carvings

The pelt of a wolf, to keep you warm. Yes, he had made it himself.

・These gifts are a piece of him. Every time he gifts you something, and you wear/use them, he literally swells with pride.

・You both knew you were soulmates, because your hands burned when you were near each other.

・No, not painful. But the same symbol is left on the top of your hand.

𝑫𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏-𝑯𝒚𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒅 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

・Dragons do not love easily. They are proud, powerful, and above such mortal concerns.

・Until you both received the soulmate mark.

・It happened like this: you had no idea there was an extremely tall being waiting for you to move in the bookstore.

・And then suddenly, you felt a strong yearning for a particular book, and when you went to pick it up, a large hand bumped against your own.

・Instantly, you started to glow. As if you had been dusted with the essence of pure gold.

・His eyes flashed to you, because the same thing was happening to him.

・An ancient feeling bubbling up from the pit of his stomach and he looked at you. Stunned. And you knew he was because his eyes gave it away.

・In that instant he was feeling a force beyond time and reason. His heart—once untamed and indifferent—now started to beat ... for you.

・Dragons are territorial creatures, and now you are his most treasured possession

・He hates being away from you. He knows your schedule, and whenever you wander too far, his wings twitch restlessly, and his claws flex as if he’s about to hunt you down and bring you back.

・If anyone even thinks of touching you, his eyes flash with molten gold, his pupils thinning into slits.

・His hoard grows with things that remind him of you—a necklace you once wore, a book you left open, even things that carry your scent.

・The first time he allowed you to ride on his back in dragon form was a big moment for him. He preened for days, smug and proud that you trust him so deeply.

𝑫𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

・Demons don’t believe in soulmates. They believe in power, in lust, in domination—not in something as fragile as “destiny.”

・And yet, the moment he lays eyes on you, he feels it—a pull so deep it rattles his very essence.

・His chest tightens with something unfamiliar—not hunger, not desire, but a need beyond reason.

・His claws flex involuntarily. His tail flicks behind him. His smirk falters, just for a second. And then, with a low, sultry chuckle, he leans in and whispers, “Oh… you’re mine.”

・Then a mark, only visible to you and he alone, would glow faintly. A symbol, neither of you know what the symbol exactly is - but it has to mean one thing...

It might appear as black runic symbols, glimmering and glinting on your skin.

However, it may appear as a delicate sigil, an ancient demonic brand woven from flame and magic.

・If you are ever in danger, the mark scorches hot, summoning him instantly—no matter where he is.

・The mark is not always visible to mortal eyes, but it glows faintly when touched by him or in moments of intense emotion.

・He would burn the world down to keep you safe.

・If anyone dares to touch you, flirt with you, or even breathe in your direction too long, his eyes darken, his tail curls possessively around your leg, and his fangs flash in a dangerous grin.

“Oh, I do hope they keep looking...Gives me an excuse to tear them apart.”

・He might act nonchalant, but he watches you like a predator watches its most prized possession.

𝑨𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

・Angels had a very specific job. From a very specific god... They weren't allowed the same freedoms that the other factions & deities had.

・Therefore, angels do not fall in love lightly. They were created to serve, to protect, to remain above mortal emotions.

・They looked out for humans; as gurdian angels.

・Your guardian angel however, didn't have a problem with getting close to you.

・In fact, he was able to physically be around you, touch you even - which was highly odd because only other beings with magic blood could do that.

・When the soulmate mark appeared, it solidified his feelings and changed your world forever.

・A gentle warmth envelopes you, and an instant calm washes over you.

・The mark is no mark at all, but drops of sunlight mixed with moonlight. They swirl on both your hands, fingers, wrists and arms. Like a moving masterpiece of true love captured through a pearlescent light.

・His very essence had trembled, as if the divine itself had rewritten fate just for the two of you.

・His wings shuddered, breath caught and for the first time in his eternal existence he felt longing.

・Usually angels did not receive soulmates.

・But for some reason he did.

・His loyalty knows no bounds. He would never stand against you. Never leave you. Never hurt you in any way possible.

・And though his essence is peace. He would die for you. He would challenge anyone or anything for you.

・There is no other path for him, but you.

[heliosunny]

hear me out: lucky egg argenti 🌹

LUCKY EGG

Yandere!Argenti x Reader

For three days, the egg sat in your care—its crimson shell adorned with golden rose patterns, pulsing faintly with light. Then, on the third day, cracks splintered across its surface. A soft, triumphant hum filled the air, like the echo of a distant fanfare. With a final break, the shell shattered, light pouring from within. And from it, he emerged.

His long, red hair cascaded down his back, two strands framing his face as his vibrant green eyes locked onto yours. His armor gleamed under the light.

“I am Argenti, sworn to your service-”

Panic

Still damp from your bath, you did the only rational thing—shoved him out the door and slammed it shut.

You stood there, breathless, staring at the golden egg shards left behind. Did that really just happen? Of all the right moment, it hatched just now?

Shaking your head, you hurriedly got dressed. You needed answers—now.

Steeling yourself, you stepped outside.

There he was.

Kneeling right in front of your door.

“Ah, you have returned!” he said warmly, as if you hadn’t just kicked him out.

“I… What are you doing?” you finally managed.

Argenti placed a gauntleted hand over his heart, his expression sincere.

“Awaiting your orders, of course, my guiding star.”

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

He lifted his head slightly, his gaze nothing short of reverence. "I have waited for you. I have longed for you. And now that I am here, I shall devote myself to you for eternity."

You stared at him, feeling a strange mix of amusement and concern. You had heard rumors about these so-called "Lucky Eggs" but you never expected something like receiving a man from such egg.

"Uh... okay" you said, rubbing the back of your neck. "Why don’t we... start with breakfast?"

Argenti's expression brightened instantly, as if you had just granted him the greatest gift in the world. "To be nourished by your hands?" he mused, following you eagerly. "Truly, I am the most blessed of men."

At least he's polite.

In the kitchen, Argenti hovered behind you, watching your every move with rapt attention. You grabbed some eggs, bread, and a few simple ingredients, planning to make something easy.

"You are skilled in the art of cooking as well" he praised, his tone filled with admiration. "Of course you would be. There is nothing you do that is not touched by divinity."

You nearly dropped the pan. "It’s just breakfast."

"And yet, I am certain it will be the most exquisite meal I have ever tasted." His gaze softened as he watched you crack an egg into the pan. "You move with such grace… every action you take is mesmerizing."

Was he serious? It was as if he found even the way you scrambled eggs to be a masterpiece.

Once the food was ready, you set the plate in front of him, watching with mild curiosity as he took his first bite. The moment the flavors touched his tongue, his eyes widened in pure bliss.

"This—!" He swallowed, pressing a hand to his chest as if overwhelmed. "This is magnificent! A humble dish, yet crafted with such care—it surpasses the finest delicacies I could have imagined!" His gaze found yours once more, filled with endless adoration. "Everything you create is perfect."

So he’s the type to get emotional over food. At least he wasn’t complaining.

"You’re being dramatic" you muttered, taking a bite of your own food.

"I speak only the truth" he insisted. "You nourish both my body and my soul."

You felt warmth creeping up your face at the way he said that, but you quickly shook it off. "Alright, alright, just eat."

He obeyed, but with every bite, he continued murmuring praises—about the seasoning, the texture, the fact that you made it. It was almost exhausting, but at the same time… it was nice. He was enthusiastic, if nothing else.

As you finished eating, you leaned back in your chair, watching as he savored the last bite. He looked completely satisfied, his expression peaceful yet utterly devoted.

"If every day is to be like this" he said, voice softer now, "then I know I was born into paradise."

You decided the next step was to get Argenti registered. In this world, adventurers needed proper documentation before they could enter dungeons, farm for points, and trade for necessities. It was a simple process—just a bit of paperwork and an entrance test to gauge one’s abilities.

Argenti followed you eagerly, his eyes full of wonder as he took in the bustling city streets. Every now and then, he would stop to admire something—a flower stand, a well-crafted statue, even the way the wind rustled the leaves in the trees. You had to tug his sleeve a few times to keep him moving.

"You find joy in the smallest things" you remarked.

He turned to you, smiling as if you had said something profound. "Everything in this world is precious because it is your world."

There he goes again.

At the registration center, the process went smoothly. You filled out the basic forms for him—name, origin (which you had to vaguely put as "new arrival"), and intended role. He was assigned an evaluation test, a simple combat challenge to determine his ranking.

The moment Argenti stepped into the testing area, however, it became clear this wouldn’t be just a "simple" evaluation.

The instructors presented him with a standard practice weapon, but Argenti scoffed, clearly unimpressed. "I require a spear" he declared. "Only then will I truly demonstrate my strength."

They hesitated but eventually fetched him a training spear. The moment he took it in his grasp, his entire demeanor shifted.

The test began.

With a single, fluid movement, Argenti lunged at the target dummies. His strikes were elegant yet devastating. When they brought out higher-ranked opponents for a sparring match, he dismantled them effortlessly, countering every move.

The spectators were left speechless.

Of course, he’s overpowered.

The evaluation ended quickly. The instructors whispered among themselves before assigning him an exceptionally high ranking—far beyond what a newcomer should have.

That was when the real problem began.

Word spread fast, and soon, people started gathering—particularly the ladies.

Adventurers, merchants who had been passing by took notice of Argenti’s display. Whispers of admiration filled the air.

"Who is he?"

"He's so strong!"

"And handsome too! Look at that hair! That armor!"

Argenti, however, remained utterly oblivious to their attention.

When one particularly bold woman approached, twirling a strand of her hair flirtatiously, Argenti’s expression barely changed. She smiled sweetly, placing a delicate hand on his arm.

"You must be new here" she cooed. "If you ever need someone to show you around, I'd be delighted—"

Argenti immediately took a step back, his face unreadable. Then, with utter finality, he turned away from her and walked straight to you.

He knelt before you, grasping your hand in both of his. "My guiding star," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear, "I have completed my trial. Now, let us leave this place."

The murmurs in the crowd grew louder. People exchanged glances, some giggling, others looking envious.

You sighed, feeling their eyes on you. "You didn’t have to be that dramatic."

Argenti tilted his head, genuinely confused. "But it is simply the truth."

You decided not to argue. Instead, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him up. "Come on, let’s go buy you some supplies before the dungeon."

As you walked away, you felt several stares boring into your back. You knew exactly what they were thinking.

Just who is this person that Argenti is so devoted to?

And honestly? You weren’t sure you had the answer to that either.

The next morning, you and Argenti prepared for your first dungeon run together. You had already bought him proper armor and a real spear—one worthy of his overwhelming strength. As expected, he treated the weapon with great reverence, running his fingers over the polished shaft with something akin to admiration.

"It is a fine weapon" he mused, then turned his gaze to you, green eyes brimming with warmth. "But no blade nor spear shall ever compare to the honor of fighting by your side."

You sighed. "You’re going to get us killed one day if you keep saying embarrassing things mid-battle."

He chuckled, completely unfazed. "Then I shall die speaking the truth."

At the dungeon entrance, you were approached by another adventuring team. A well-balanced group—two warriors, a healer, and a mage, who seemed competent enough. Their leader, a young man with a confident grin, stepped forward.

"Hey, we saw your ranking from yesterday. You are new but insanely strong. Mind if we join forces? Bigger team means better survival rates, right?"

You exchanged a glance with Argenti. It was true that larger teams had better odds, and since this was Argenti’s first real dungeon run, it might be good to have backup.

"Fine" you said with a nod. "Let’s move quickly. I don’t like wasting time."

Argenti remained silent but stood close beside you. His posture was as composed as ever, but there was a certain stiffness to his frame—something almost... displeased. Still, he said nothing, merely following your lead as the group entered the dungeon.

From the very start, it was clear that you and Argenti were carrying the team. Your coordination was flawless—Argenti’s spear danced through the air, tearing through monsters, while you supported him with buffs. The other team members did their best, but there was no denying it: you and Argenti were on a completely different level.

The others were panting by the time you reached the second floor, but you and Argenti were barely breaking a sweat.

"Are you even human?" one of the warriors groaned, wiping sweat from his forehead.

Argenti tilted his head slightly, as if genuinely considering the question. "I am whatever my guiding star wishes me to be."

You shot him a look. "Stop saying weird things."

The warrior chuckled, assuming it was a joke, but the group's mage—a young woman named Elara—giggled softly and stepped closer to Argenti.

"You’re really impressive" she said, brushing her hair over her shoulder. "Have you trained since childhood?"

Argenti didn’t respond.

The dungeon crawl continued, and Elara kept finding excuses to stick close to him. She walked beside him, struck up conversation, and even went as far as to lightly grasp his arm when pretending to lose balance.

You noticed, of course. But you weren’t particularly bothered. Adventurers naturally gravitated toward the strong, and Argenti was both powerful and strikingly beautiful. It was only natural that someone would take an interest in him.

It doesn’t matter. As long as he stayed focused on the mission, you had no reason to intervene.

Argenti, however, had other thoughts.

Each time Elara got too close, his grip on his spear tightened. Whenever she spoke to him, his responses were curt, dismissive. His movements became slightly sharper, his strikes just a fraction more aggressive, as if trying to release some unseen frustration.

Then, when Elara attempted to press even closer, Argenti abruptly moved away, only to step directly behind you.

"My guiding star," he murmured, his voice a whisper against your ear. "Am I permitted to dispose of nuisances?"

You turned your head slightly, raising an eyebrow. "We don’t kill our allies."

He sighed, as if deeply inconvenienced. "A shame."

Before you could say anything else, Elara suddenly reached out again. "Argenti, I—"

Without even looking at her, Argenti smoothly took your hand and pulled you against his side.

"You seem to misunderstand, lady mage" he said, voice perfectly polite, yet as sharp as the tip of his spear. His grip on you was firm, "I have no need for distractions. My only purpose is to serve them."

Elara stiffened. The rest of her team awkwardly looked away. You could feel the tension radiating from Argenti’s frame, like a storm barely contained beneath his composed facade.

You sighed, squeezing his hand slightly in warning. "Enough. Let’s finish the dungeon."

Argenti didn’t argue. But as you continued forward, his fingers remained curled tightly around yours, as if daring anyone to challenge his claim.

After a long but successful dungeon run, your party finally stepped out into the cool night air. The scent of damp stone and moss lingered, but the fresh breeze was a welcome relief after hours in the depths.

"You two are absolute monsters in battle" the team leader laughed, stretching his arms. "We’ve gotta treat you to a meal! No way we’re letting this victory pass without celebration."

You hesitated for a moment, glancing at Argenti. He was still holding your hand from earlier, his grip unwavering even as you stood outside the dungeon.

You saw no harm in accepting. A free meal after a long day? You weren’t going to turn that down.

"Fine" you said with a shrug. "Just don’t pick a place too expensive."

Elara perked up immediately, clasping her hands together. "Oh! I know a great place! It’s got the best drinks and atmosphere in town!"

Argenti’s grip subtly tightened. You ignored it.

The restaurant was lively, filled with the chatter of adventurers, merchants, and travelers alike. Plates of steaming food covered the table, and the other party members eagerly dug in.

Argenti, however, barely touched his food. He sat beside you, his green eyes never straying too far from your form. He did, however, accept anything you placed on his plate—though you noticed he seemed to enjoy it more when you personally handed him a piece.

"Everything tastes better when it is from your hand" he murmured at one point.

You ignored the way your face heated slightly and focused on eating.

Elara, sitting across from Argenti, had been quiet for a while. Then, at some point during the meal, she subtly waved her fingers beneath the table.

A faint shimmer flickered in the air. A spell.

At first, you didn’t notice. But when Argenti suddenly stiffened beside you, his breathing growing uneven, you turned your head sharply.

"Argenti?"

His hand trembled slightly as he reached for his cup but failed to grasp it properly. His vision was unfocused, his usual sharpness dulled.

"I feel…" he exhaled heavily, his voice quieter than usual. "Weary…"

Elara’s lips curled slightly. "Oh my," she feigned concern. "He must’ve overexerted himself in battle today. Poor thing."

That was not exhaustion from battle.

Elara had done something.

Without hesitation, you reached for Argenti, steadying him as he leaned against you. His head rested against your shoulder, warm but unnaturally heavy.

"Let’s get out of here" you muttered.

Elara blinked. "Wait—so soon? The night’s just started!"

You ignored her, wrapping an arm around Argenti to support him. His entire body felt like dead weight, his breathing shallow but steady. He wasn’t in immediate danger, but whatever spell she had used had clearly taken a toll on him.

You weren’t about to leave him like this.

With some effort, you managed to get him up and out of the restaurant. The others barely reacted, assuming he had just had too much to drink.

Elara, however, was less than pleased.

She had expected him to turn his attention toward her, to weaken his ridiculous obsession with you. Instead, all she had done was exhaust him.

By the time you got him to the inn nearby and into your room, Argenti was barely conscious. His head lolled slightly, but he stubbornly clung to you, refusing to let go even as you tried to ease him onto the bed.

"You are…" he murmured, voice slurred, "the only light I see…"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Now get some rest."

You reached to pull his gauntlets off, making him more comfortable. But as you did, his hands suddenly shot up, grasping your wrists.

"You will not leave" he whispered. His grip, even in his weakened state, was firm. "Please stay..."

With a sigh, you sat on the edge of the bed. "Fine. But only until you fall asleep."

As you carefully unfastened Argenti’s armor, the weight of his exhaustion became more evident. His usual strength had been drained away, leaving him in an unfamiliar state of weakness. You worked efficiently, making sure he was comfortable as you finally laid him down on the bed.

But as soon as your hands left him, a strange sensation washed over you. Your body tingled, as if something deep inside you had been activated. A pull, an unseen force, began drawing your energy toward him, flowing into him like a tide shifting toward shore.

The connection from the egg, the unseen bond that tethered you and Argenti together, was responding to his weakened state. Without your permission, your energy surged forward, filling the void left in him.

A soft exhale left Argenti’s lips as the faintest color returned to his cheeks. His breathing steadied, and you could see the tension in his body ease slightly. He was getting better.

But you…

Your limbs suddenly felt heavy.

Your eyelids drooped, exhaustion overtaking you in waves.

The warmth of his body beneath your fingertips felt inviting, and before you could stop yourself, you slumped forward.

A quiet gasp left Argenti when your body pressed against his. Even in his weakened state, his arms instinctively wrapped around you, securing you against his chest.

You were too tired to resist.

The steady rise and fall of his breath lulled you further, and soon, everything faded into a peaceful sleep.

Argenti stirred slightly, his fingers twitching as his awareness slowly returned.

The first thing he registered was warmth.

The second was you.

Lying atop him, nestled against his chest, your body soft and warm in his arms. He could feel your energy intertwined with his, as if your very essence had poured into him to heal him.

His grip on you tightened ever so slightly.

Even now, you gave yourself to him.

Even unknowingly, your body, your soul—everything—gravitated toward him.

How beautiful.

His lips curled into a small, pleased smile.

Argenti carefully adjusted your position, lifting you with surprising gentleness despite the exhaustion that had once plagued him. You slept soundly, your body still recovering from the energy you had unknowingly given him.

He took a moment to admire you, his eyes tracing the peaceful expression on your face. Soft breaths, warm skin, the faintest scent of you lingering in the air—it was soothing, so intoxicatingly his.

But there was something that still needed to be taken care of.

With one last lingering touch, he pulled the blanket over you and silently left the room.

A few hours later. He returned. Not a single trace of fatigue lingered in his steps. His posture was as composed as ever, his armor pristine, not a single drop of blood marring his silver gauntlets.

He sat on the edge of the bed, watching you stir slightly.

When your eyes fluttered open, you blinked up at him sleepily.

"You’re back?" you murmured, your voice still drowsy.

He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Of course" he said smoothly. "Did you sleep well?"

You nodded, stretching a little before sitting up. "Yeah. I think I needed that."

He smiled. There was no trace of the earlier spell’s effects on him. He looked as radiant and composed as always. You stretched again and stood up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you both prepared to return home.

The town square was bustling, as always.

But something caught your eye.

A missing poster.

Your steps slowed for a brief moment as you took in the sketch on the parchment.

Elara

She was gone.

Your brows furrowed slightly, but you didn’t dwell on it for long. You never liked her anyway. With a shrug, you kept walking, letting the poster fade into the background of the busy street.

Behind you, Argenti’s expression was unreadable.

But deep down, he was pleased.

You had seen the evidence of his work.

And yet, you chose to ignore it.

You were learning.

Good.

He intertwined his fingers with yours as you continued walking.

This life, the one where he stood by your side, where he belonged to you and you to him, was all he ever wanted.

And as long as you stayed his, he would make sure nothing, and no one, would ever get in the way.

[bernardsbendystraws]

You Don’t Own Me

P1 P2 P3 P4 P5 P6 P7 P8 P9 P10 P11 P12 P13 P14 P15 P16

Chris Sturniolo lives by his own rules, refusing to be controlled. Some see him as a rebel, a troublemaker—but is that the full truth? Meanwhile, Y/N is focused on making the most of her last year of high school, determined to have a normal teenage experience. But when their worlds collide, they realize they may have more in common than they ever expected.

WARNINGS: None ?

A/N: Dawg. I love this shit.

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

P3: Affection

wc: 2000+

Two days later, I find myself outside Matt’s house again, regretting my life choices.

My brother Baylen has been home for all of five minutes before we’re already at each other’s throats. Nothing major—just the usual biting remarks, the passive-aggressive tension that’s existed between us for as long as I can remember. It’s not like we have some tragic backstory; we just don’t get along.

So, I use this project as an excuse to get out, even if it means stepping into enemy territory.

Matt’s house is clean but has a certain emptiness to it. The walls are bare, the furniture simple and unassuming. There are no candles, no decorative pillows, no family photos—nothing that gives off any sense of warmth. It’s functional, but it lacks a motherly touch, and for some reason, that sits with me more than it should.

Matt opens the door, nodding in greeting before stepping aside to let me in.

“No Chris?” I ask, scanning the space as I drop my bag near the couch.

Matt shakes his head. “He’s out, probably with Trevor.”

“Good,” I mutter under my breath, though a tiny part of me isn’t sure if I mean it.

Matt leads me to the dining table, where our books and notes are already set up. We work in comfortable silence, his presence easy to be around despite how little he speaks. He isn’t overly friendly, but he isn’t cold either—just somewhere in between.

I watch as Matt bites his lip, staring down at his phone with his face scrunches. 

“What’s up?” I ask. 

Matt shakes his head, letting out a sight as he runs his hands through his hair. “It’s–um…nothing, I just, ugh.” He brings his hand to his mouth, chewing on his nails. “It’s this girl, she’s, uh–I wanna ask her out, but I just don’t know… how?” 

My heart pulses as I look at his flushed cheeks. He’s so sweet. 

“What’s holding you back?” I ask, placing my hands in my lap as I give him my undivided attention. 

How are Matt and Chris even related? Matt’s so nice and Chris is… 

Well, Chris. 

“Do you know Mia?” I shake my head at his question. Mia didn’t sound familiar. “Well, I really like her and I’m just–-I’m not very good with girls, I guess.” 

My eyes widen with disbelief, my hand slapping over my mouth as I hold back a laugh. 

Matt squirms in his seat. “What’s so funny?” 

He’s so clueless. 

“Matt,” I huff, licking over my lips as I hold back a smile. “You’re great with girls. You’re sweet, you’re thoughtful…just–just ask!” I exclaim, placing my hand on his shoulder. 

His cheeks flourish with a more vibrant hue of red. “Thanks. But, how do I even ask?” 

“You like her?” 

He nods. 

“Well, make her feel special. Ask her on a date you know she’d like and be yourself because, trust me, that’s enough,” I direct. 

Matt’s body slumps with a relaxing breath. “Thank you, I think I’m just overthinking this shit,” he smiles, letting out an airy laugh. 

I lower my hand back down to my lap. “Anytime. I overthink too, it’s okay,” I joke. 

“What about you?” he asks. 

What about me? 

Noticing my confused expression, Matt explains more. “Any guy–or girl troubles?” 

My fingers intertwine with each other, fiddling as I stare back at my computer screen. “I, um, not really. The only guy troubles is my brother.” I huff. 

Matt rolls his eyes. “Trust me, I get that.” 

The conversation dies down as we settle into a comfortable silence. Clicks of fingers typing on keyboards echo as we direct our attention towards the class work. 

After about twenty minutes, the front door opens, followed by the familiar jingling of Trevor’s collar. My body tenses instinctively before I can stop myself.

Of course.

Chris strolls in like he owns the place, his sharp eyes immediately landing on me. He doesn’t say anything, just stares for a beat too long before kicking off his shoes and heading toward the kitchen.

I ignore him, focusing on my notes. Or at least, I try.

“You’re back,” Chris finally says from across the room.

I roll my eyes. “Observant.”

Matt sighs. “Chris.”

“What?” Chris leans against the counter, crossing his arms. “I just wasn’t expecting her to voluntarily step foot in this house again.”

“Trust me, if I had another option, I’d take it,” I shoot back, gripping my pen tighter than necessary.

Chris smirks, the kind that makes my stomach twist in the most annoying way. “Must be bad if you’d rather be here.”

I refuse to give him the satisfaction of a response, turning back to Matt, who’s clearly used to this dynamic but looks vaguely tired of it.

We continue working, but Chris doesn’t leave. Instead, he makes himself comfortable, rummaging through the kitchen cabinets as if he’s trying to be a distraction on purpose.

Trevor, traitor that he is, trots over and plops down near my chair, his tail thumping lazily against the floor. I reach down to scratch behind his ears, fully aware that Chris is watching.

“You two fight like children,” Matt mutters, flipping through his notes.

Chris and I both turn to glare at him, which only seems to amuse him more.

“You should’ve been an only child,” Chris quips.

Matt hums. “Believe me, sometimes I wish I was.”

I smirk. “Smartest thing you’ve said all day.”

Chris shoots me an unimpressed look. “Hilarious.”

For a while, it’s mostly quiet, aside from the scratching of pens against paper and the occasional shuffling of notes. Every so often, I can feel Chris’s gaze flicker to me, though I pretend not to notice.

Then, without warning, he plops down in the chair directly across from me, arms resting on the table.

“You two are boring,” he announces.

Matt doesn’t even look up. “Then leave.”

Chris ignores him, his eyes on me instead. “You always this serious when you work?”

I raise a brow. “You always this much of a pain in the ass?”

Chris smirks, drumming his fingers against the wood. “Depends on who you ask.”

I scoff. “Let me guess—if I asked Trevor, he’d say you’re insufferable.”

Chris leans back in his chair, grinning. “Oh, he loves me. He’s just playing favorites right now.”

Trevor, as if on cue, sighs contently from his spot at my feet.

I smirk. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

Chris exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

Matt finally sets his pen down, rubbing his temples. “Are you two going to do this the whole time?”

Chris and I exchange glances before I shrug. “Probably.”

Matt sighs. “Great.”

We manage to work for another hour, though Chris remains an infuriating presence. Every so often, he throws in some sarcastic comment, just enough to get under my skin but not enough for me to take the bait fully. It’s like he enjoys testing my patience, and unfortunately, I have a limited supply.

By the time we wrap up, my head’s starting to ache from the sheer force of keeping my annoyance in check.

As I gather my things, Chris leans against the doorway, arms crossed. “So, same time next time?”

I scoff. “You wish.”

Matt shakes his head as he follows me to the door. “You two exhaust me.”

As I reach for the handle to open the door, Trevor suddenly stands up, his tail wagging energetically as he trots over to me. He nudges his head against my legs, an oddly insistent gesture that I can’t quite place.

"What's up, cutie?" I mutter, kneeling down to scratch behind his ears, but Trevor doesn’t seem satisfied. He sits at my feet, then looks up at me with an almost mournful gaze, like he’s trying to get my attention.

I chuckle, thinking maybe he just wants more love, but then, with surprising tenderness, he leans into my side, resting his head against my shoulder. It isn’t a normal gesture for him—he’s always playful, a little too energetic, but this is different. It feels… intimate. Protective, almost.

I freeze, my fingers halting mid-scratch as I stare at him, confused by the sudden shift in his behavior. Trevor’s never been this affectionate, at least not in a way that feels so personal. It’s as if he’s trying to comfort me, but I can’t understand why.

I feel a shift in the air—a presence that isn’t quite right. My gaze flicks up toward the door, and I catch Chris standing there, watching us. His posture is stiff, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. His jaw is set, his eyes a little too focused on Trevor and me. His lips part like he wants to say something but can’t.

Then Trevor does something I hadn’t expected. He nuzzles his face against mine, nudging my cheek with the same gentle pressure he’d shown when he leaned into me earlier. It feels different this time, like it carries an extra layer of tenderness, something that goes beyond a simple gesture of affection.

Chris's eyes widen, and for a moment, his expression falters—almost like he recognizes something. A brief flicker of emotion flashes in his eyes before his face hardens, and he turns away, muttering something under his breath.

“Shit,” he curses softly, his voice a mixture of frustration and something else I can’t place.

I don’t know what just happened, but the atmosphere suddenly feels heavier. Chris shakes his head as if trying to shake off whatever thoughts have crossed his mind. Without saying anything more, he walks quickly past us and out the door, his steps sharp and deliberate.

I watch him go, still processing what just happened with Trevor. There’s a strange, heavy silence between me and the dog as I stand up. Trevor just sits there, looking at me with those big, trusting eyes like nothing’s amiss. But I can tell something has shifted in the air, something I don’t fully understand.

"Matt?" I call softly, turning toward him. He’s standing by the table, his arms folded, looking between me and the door Chris just exited.

“What was that?” I ask, my voice quieter now. "Trevor’s never acted like that before. Why did Chris—"

Matt cuts me off before I can finish. “Forget it.” His voice is calm but firm, the kind of tone that doesn’t invite more questions.

I frown. “Forget what? What’s going on?”

He exhales through his nose, shaking his head as he gathers the loose papers on the table. “It’s nothing. Trevor’s just weird sometimes.”

That’s a lie. I know it. And Matt knows that I know it.

I open my mouth to push further, but he beats me to it. “Did you finish the notes on chapter five?”

A deliberate subject change. Deflection at its finest.

I hesitate, glancing toward the door where Chris disappeared, my mind still turning over the strange energy in the room. Trevor’s unusual behavior. Chris’s reaction. The look on Matt’s face now—calm, unreadable, but a little too controlled.

Something is off.

But I can tell Matt isn’t going to give me anything. Not right now.

So I let out a slow breath and nod. “Yeah. I finished them.”Matt gives me a short, approving nod, like that settles it. But as we sit back down, I can’t shake the feeling that I just walked past a locked door—one I wasn’t meant to notice in the first place.

[lightseoul]

cw. gn!reader, worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (25), pining lmao (if you look extra closely)

masterlist | part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

“You’re late.”

At the sound of the pro-hero’s all-too-familiar gruff voice, you freeze, ass barely touching the chair you were about to sit on.

From where he sits across from you, Bakugou is now scowling.

Great, you think to yourself. Twenty seconds in and you’ve already triggered the beast.

“Sorry,” you say with the most apologetic smile you can muster. “Something urgent came up.”

At that, his scowl deepens, and his eyes seem to search for something as they flicker over your features. You feel yourself getting warm under the intensity of his gaze.

Three years of working under him and it still flusters you—being studied so blatantly by the #2 Pro-Hero, Bakugou Katsuki.

“What possibly could’ve been more urgent than an important meeting with your fucking boss?”

You internally scoff at his tactlessness, though you manage to seem unfazed on the outside. At the very least, the three years of being the HR head of the Ground Riot agency have taught you how to deal with a certain someone.

Bakugou’s eye twitches so minutely, probably out of annoyance brought by the feigned innocence written all over your face.

You could lie and let the conversation move forward. But you’re feeling a little reckless, still reeling from that damned phone call you had a few minutes ago.

So you tell him the truth.

“I just got dumped over the phone.”

You expected a disinterested harrumph in response, not a choking fit over the ice-cold water he just downed.

You jump on your feet, circling the table to—supposedly—gently pat his back. Before you do so, though, you hesitate, hand awkwardly frozen mid-air, wondering for a second if touching any part of your boss’s body could put you in HR danger.

Once you gathered practically everyone in the restaurant’s attention and Bakugou has stopped coughing, you hesitantly circle back and sit on your chair.

“Are you okay?” you ask, as he wipes his mouth angrily with his napkin.

“‘m fine,” he croaks, not meeting your gaze for a moment before finally looking you in the eye.

He looks like he has something to say, but his words never come. His mouth merely opens and closes ever so slightly, you could’ve missed it if you weren’t staring at it.

Why are you staring?

“Great,” you shoot him a smile, grabbing one of the menus and thumbing through the decidedly sticky pages.

A pause.

“...You could’ve canceled, you know.”

At the sound of his uncharacteristically quiet voice, you look up, surprised.

“What?”

He sighs, probably irritated by your confusion. “You could’ve canceled the meeting,” he explains, “I would’ve understood.”

You can’t help but smile at him, the feeling of gratitude blooming in your chest. At the sight of it, he looks away, solemn.

“A commitment is a commitment,” you reply. “We already blocked off the hour to meet with the restaurant owner, and I don’t want to waste your precious time off patrol.”

“...Even though you just got dumped?”

Your heart throbs painfully at the mention of what just happened to you, but you quickly school your expression into a neutral one.

“Especially because I just got dumped.”

He chuckles. “What, you the type to throw yourself into work when life gets extra shitty?”

You playfully roll your eyes at his jab. “Don’t act like you don’t do that yourself, Bakugou-san.”

“I wasn’t,” he defends, smirking as he leans back against his seat. “Was just curious.”

Before you can even register what he just said, a waiter suddenly appears to your right, startling the both of you.

Bakugou then proceeds to order for himself, and as he does so, you study his face despite yourself, heart weirdly thrumming at the implications of what was just said.

“Make sure to have the report ready by 5 PM tomorrow,” he says, breaking the silence as you walk towards where he parked his car. “‘m planning to stop by the office to read it before the night shift starts.”

“Got it.”

Before you know it, you’ve already arrived. Despite yourself, your heart sinks at the thought of going home. Whether it’s because you literally just got dumped unceremoniously or because the surprisingly pleasant meeting is coming to an end, you don’t know.

Bakugou turns to face you, a hand in his pocket and the other fiddling with his keys. “You sure you don’t need a ride?”

You nod. “The bus station is just a few blocks away.”

A silence falls upon you.

Again—there’s that serious look on his face as he studies you so intensely, it almost feels like scrutinizing. You’ve always felt vulnerable under Bakugou’s sharp gaze, but today it’s been extra piercing.

Finally accepting that it’s the end of the day and it’s time to go home, you nod again—more cheerfully this time—before you turn to leave.

You’re about a few feet away from him when he calls your name.

“For what it’s worth,” he semi-shouts, “it’s that dumbass’ loss.”

tagging. @katsukis1wife @rinalou @loverboyrin @brunnetteiwik @beabe19

[yanoverload]

Yandere Unicorn Hybrid

Hello dearly beloveds. I am early this time.

This is in the same universe as yandere cow boy and yandere tanuki, but set in the medieval times.

If you feel like it gives you Epic vibes no it doesn't.

I also feel like this is one of the longest I've written LOL

The cold mud seeps from the ground, and works as an ointment to my hurt feet. I sigh as I wish I had the time to stop, but if I do, the enemy will ambush me.

War was never a pretty sight. But humans, just like beasts, felt the need to shed blood for food, territory, status. I suppose that is the way of the world.

No one expected the ambush, it was cowardly, we were apart os a simple camp of injured soldiers and doctors, trying to recover from the losses. Enemy soldiers put fire in the tents, specifically in the medical center. I managed to run in only sleep rags, but maybe I should have stayed. 

Maybe I should've died with some glory, but I am just human. 

"I want to go back to my family" I hold my arm trying to bite off the pain. The bandages seem loose, and the stab wounds are starting to seep blood through my clothes.

Before I notice, my desperation makes me go further than normal, as I encounter a scenario I have never noticed in the forest. I don’t think I ever came this deep into it in my time at camp.

There were several flowers lying around in a wild, but also organized manner. It really was a pretty sight. In the center of the stage was a clearing, one where a river crossed right as the trees gave way, showing a beautiful sun.

I get one foot forward. Then another. Almost as if in a daze towards the river.

As I approach I see the trees are filled with fruit, perfectly ripe with no bumps or noticeable bugs, I check the water, it's clean looking and at perfect temperature.

Have I died in the middle of the forest and gone to heaven? Am I still in the medical bed hallucinating?

As I'm about to sip from the water, I hear a yell. I almost mistake it for the enemy soldiers.

"Begone filth! Before you damage this land with your corruption." 

All I see is a gorgeous human being, ethereal like never seen before. Pale like the moon, with eyes that glitter like stars.

Their hair, silky smooth, almost as blue and shiny as the river before me. In their forehead a horn. Have I met one of the fae? Did I step into a faerie circle?

As I behold the marble statue glaring at me, I feel as if the shine of the sun starts to dim, my body feeling heavier than armor.

I blink as I see the strangers worried and panicked state as I fall to the ground, energy depleted.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Some more facts about him! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

In the future, humanity changed their own DNA to produce hybrids. What they didn't know is that certain types have existed for centuries.

Unicorns are one of them. Believed to be a horse with a horn, they are rather humanoid figures, most commonly mistaken as faeries or elves for their graceful stature.

As beings blessed by life, they live in another dimension from other living beings, a paradise no one seems to ever encounter apart from those in fairytales.

Éliphas is one of those. But rather than in a group he seems to live in one of those havens by himself. Until you came along.

He's been lonely for so long, even if he seems to despise you... He wishes for you to stay.

Unicorns tend to prefer pure things, and you are not pure at all, but that doesn't seem to bother Éliphas.

Super tsundere yan.

Unicorns are supposed to be pure of heart, so he would never kill anyone, but he doesn't need it! Because you seem to be stuck in his domain and can't get out... Oh no.

He acts like a housewife

Says he's looking for a way for you to leave, but let's be honest he's lying.

Are you corrupting him perhaps?

Wears little to no clothes, how doesn't he feel cold in the forest? His domain is the perfect weather, not too much sun but enough breeze.

Height: 176 cm (5'9 feet)

[borathae]

"Your husband, who is your lovely sub on normal days, asks if he could take the lead for once."

Pairing: CEO!Jungkook x f.Reader 

Genre: married life!AU, Smut

Warnings: switchy Dom!Jungkook, switch!Reader, basically he wants to be Dom but ends up having quite a subby approach to the entire scene, he is so cute!, slightly bratty!Reader, he shows off his bratty side as well, he lets a few "Mommy"s slip because he is cute, sex in the playroom, leather handcuffs, he ties her to the bed with ropes, suit kink as he keeps his suit on during sex, lap sitting, he is a giggly tease, body worship, nipple licking, temperature play with peach juice, edging (f.receiving), oral (f.receiving), vaginal fingering, use of a rabbit vibrator, use of lube, strength kink, some dirty talk, he calls her "his queen", giggly aftercare, Kookie slips right back into sub-mode the moment the scene ended, they’re so in love!!

Wordcount: 9.7k

a/n: Okay you guys, you know that I love aaol!Kook and his subby nature very much, but this idea came to me one night and wouldn't want to leave me. So enjoy, this is him being the Dom in a scene I am *gulps* have fun besties 😩💜

Your husband had a request last night. It was the type of request he never made before and one you most definitely didn’t expect to ever hear from him.

“Can I dom you?”

The question fell during dinner, leaving you to look at him with widened eyes.

“It’s just that, that…”

He began stuttering then, fondling with his own ear nervously.

“...you know that I, uhm, you know how we, uhm. You know uhm. You know how we once talked about how I’m kinda only subbing for the right woman and that I’m actually a switch? You know it, it was on our first date. You know?”

You assured him that yes of course you remember.

“Yeah okay I uh. Uhm. Uh. Mmh, yeah. I was, uh.”

You had to tell him then, “Jungkook, please don’t be so nervous, there is no reason for it”, which calmed him down enough that he could finish his sentence properly.

“It’s just that, I was thinking that maybe we could, you know, switch it up for once? Just, just once obviously and I, I don’t wanna invalidate you as a Dom.”

“You aren’t, my love”, you told him to which he seemed rather assured.

“Okay good, so uhm. What do you think? Could I be, uhm, could I be the Dom for once? Just once? Please? Once?”

Jungkook looked at you with the biggest puppy eyes ever and so you told him in the most nonchalant of ways that “yeah sure, let’s switch it up. But ain’t calling you Daddy.”

“Ew hell no, that’s just gross. You’re literally the same age as me.”

At that you had to laugh, “but Jungkook dear, you call me Mommy too.”

“Well, that’s different because you’re hot and like totally my type.”

A day has passed between that conversation and the current moment. You have just come home, now in the middle of hanging up your coat when Jungkook calls for you.

“My love, can you come here for a moment?”

“Coming! Just gotta get rid of my bag!” you tell him, doing exactly that.

You find Jungkook in the living room once you are done undressing. He is sitting on the chaise lounge by the window, still wearing a suit. Well, parts of it at least. A black and terribly tight button up is tucked into his equally as tight and as black slacks. The sleeves of the shirt are rolled up, revealing his strong, lower arms to you. His favourite Rolex sits around his wrist. The suit jacket he had draped on the chaise lounge beside him.

“Hey there handsome, how was your day?” you greet him.

“Good. Yours?”

“Good too, just kinda stressful.”

“Yeah stressful?”

“Yeah very. But it’s alright because I’m home now. With you.”

Jungkook gives you a shy grin. You let your eyes run over his chest. He has three of his buttons open, leaving little to your imagination.

“But what’s with you. Why are you still in your suit?” you ask him.

“It’s not my work suit.”

“It’s not?”

Jungkook smirks and spreads his legs rather cockily.

“Come here, my love”, he says, carrying a certain rasp in his voice.

“Oh? Okay”, you chuckle, “is this already part of your plan?”

“Yeah maybe”, he straightens up the closer you come.

“Is it now? What about dinner?”

“Wanna take you out afterwards. It’s not good to play with a full stomach anyway”, he tells you, following the sway of your hips with his eyes, “now sit”, he says, tapping his lap.

You smile fondly, climbing on top of his lap in a way so that you were facing him. Your knees are caging in his hips and you have your hands hooked behind his neck.

“Like this?” you ask, playing with his undercut at the nape of his neck.

“Perfect”, he says and places his hands on your hips to massage them gently. He scans his eyes over your body, “you’re so beautiful, my love.”

“Oh? Thank you. I feel like a mess. I was sweating so much today.”

“I don’t even see it. You are so beautiful.”

“Thank you, Bunny.”

“No, no. Call me by name tonight”, he pauses, “if it’s alright with you, of course”, he adds in a whisper.

“By your name?” you stifle a chuckle, but Jungkook is looking at you with dead serious eyes, “fine. Thank you, Jungkook”, you coo, fluttering your lashes at him.

Jungkook nods his head and runs his hand up your back. He gives your body a gentle squeeze when he reaches your upper back, then begins dancing his hands down to your hips again.

“How was your day, my love? Honestly”, he asks with his attentive eyes solely focused on you. He loves listening to you.

“It was good. Just really hot and the last two lectures kinda ruined me. I’m so tired”, you say and rest your head on his shoulder, “but that’s amazing. You’re so snuggly.”

Jungkook kisses your hair and rubs his hands up and down your back. His touch is so nice, making you tingle in a comforting manner. 

“Are you in the mood for kink? I know I’m kinda surprising you right now.”

“No, I knew you would. We talked about it, didn’t we?”

“Mhm, yeah. But moods can change, especially after a long day.”

“No, I still want it. I was looking forward to tonight. I’m so curious to what you have planned.”

“It’s gonna be so good”, he says and wiggles.

“Yeah?"

“Mh-hm, I put a lot of thought into it and worked with the wishes you told me yesterday. I really worked so hard on it.”

“Uuh Bunny, that sounds intriguing.”

“I know, oh Mommy I’m so-”, he stops and wiggles out of your hug. He pouts at you, “no Bunny”, he frowns cutely, “and you’re not my Mommy tonight. No.”

You laugh, caressing his cheeks, “you’re cute. But fine. I’ll behave. What do you have planned, Jungkook?”

“First, tell me your rights”, he says.

“Well, I have the right to vote and the right to voice my opinion freely, there is also the right to-”

“No ___, don’t ruin my plan”, Jungkook whines, sending you a pleading look.

You chuckle. He is so adorable. You are pretty sure that if you truly acted bratty, he would just straight up break into tears because of feeling way too overwhelmed. Poor, sweet boy. Maybe you should cut him some slack for now. After all, Jungkook has a talent for planning scenes. You are sure that he put a lot of effort into tonight.

“Fine”, you give in, “Green, yellow and red. Snap my fingers three times or hum happy birthday. Also don’t you dare call me a good girl or I will end the scene immediately.”

“Yes, that’s it. I understand”, Jungkook says, nodding his head, “do you want this?”

“Yes Jungkook, I do.”

“Good”, he lowers his eyes playfully, “you know? I did some thinking today.”

“You did?”

“Mhm yeah. I was thinking about all the ways I could ruin you.”

“Ruin me?” you gasp, feeling genuinely surprised.

“Yeah”, Jungkook lowers his eyes playfully, “you always put so much effort into making sure I’m a complete mess, so I put a lot of thinking into what I could do to you.”

“You did?” you ask him, finding more and more enjoyment in the scene.

“Yeah”, he smirks playfully, “why don’t you clean up and get pretty for me and I’ll show you?”

“You’ll show me?” you ask huskily, moving closer.

Jungkook looks at your lips with half-lidded eyes.

“Yeah”, he rasps, “upstairs.”

A shiver runs down your spine, making your hips squirm on top of his lap.

“You really prepared it upstairs?”

“Yeah, like we talked about”, he says cockily, “I also put out something for you to wear.”

“Fuck Bunny, you-”

“Uh, nuh”, he silences you by pressing his finger against your lips, “aren’t you forgetting something here?”

“Jungkook”, you murmur, gawking at him with widened eyes, “I meant Jungkook.”

“Better”, he rasps and caresses your chin with two of his fingers, “now off you go, get cleaned up and pretty and then come upstairs. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Fine, geez you’re really into this role aren’t you?” you murmur, stumbling off his lap with slightly wobbly knees.

Jungkook told the truth. He really prepared something to wear for you. One of his shirts. Babyblue and oversized. It is resting on your bed with a single red rose and a little note on top of it. You aren’t surprised that he chose something so domestic and casual. He loves it when you wear his clothes and quite frankly, you expected him to choose domestic attire for you.

You decide to get washed up first and read the note later.

Once done and with your body finally smelling and feeling clean again, you sit down on the edge of the bed, putting on the shirt. It fits you perfectly, smelling just like him. Once you took a good whiff of him, you reach for the note and the finely wrapped chocolate praline he placed beside it. You let it melt on your tongue as you read.

“A flower and chocolate for my Queen. PS: No panties please ;) Love, Jungkook.”

You smile, folding the note neatly and placing it next to the rose.

“You’re so cute, Bunny”, you murmur, leaving the bedroom to finally hurry upstairs.

You are so excited for what he has planned. You know that whatever he thought of will be fun. The two of you had a long and thorough conversation about your likes and dislikes last night, so you know that Jungkook must have taken great advantage of the knowledge. He is your amazing husband after all.

You knock three times and wait with a racing heart.

“Come in!”

You take a deep breath and finally slip inside.

The playroom doesn’t look much different than it normally does. Except that Jungkook turned on all the moodlights and he changed the once red PVC cover for the black one. It fits well with his outfit.

“Look at you”, he says, leaving the place by the backlit window to strut to you, “you look fucking stunning.”

“Thank you”, you say, “and thank you for the rose and chocolate.”

“Of course”, he says, taking your hand to place a soft kiss on top of your knuckles, “anything for my Queen”, he rasps, looking at you with playful eyes.

He leaves you all hot and bothered. This cocky, flirty attitude suits him so well.

“So”, you begin, “finally ready to tell me what you have planned for me?”

Jungkook straightens up solely to begin circling you like a predator would its prey. His steps are confident, the sound of his shoes are loud on the floorboards.

One.

Two.

He is standing just about behind you, placing his hand on your lower back. He leans in, making sure that you would feel his breath tickle your neck.

“Patience”, he whispers, inching his hand closer and closer to your front. He presents a flute of a sparkling beverage to you. It reflects the red lights, “for you.”

“What’s that?” you gasp, eyeing it with slight shock in your tummy.

“Sparkling peach juice”, he says and giggles, “I wanted to treat you to something yummy.”

“Oh dear, you had me worried that you got alcohol for a sec”, you say, accepting the flute gladly.

“Never”, he says and snakes his arm around you so he could clink glasses with you. He ghosts his lips over your neck as he does, sending shivers down your spine, “to a wonderful evening”, he rasps.

“Yeah”, you agree and guide the glass to your lips. Jungkook does the same with his’. One sip and then he ghosts his lips over your neck again. They are cold from the juice, their kisses leave wet spots on your skin. Jungkook lets his breath swirl over them, intensifying the sensation to the max. It also doesn’t help that his unoccupied hand is running up and down your waist, reminding you just how warm his touch feels.

“I’m so obsessed with you”, he whispers, nibbling on the spots he marked to get rid of the juice, “I can’t stop looking at you in this shirt”, he says, letting his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

The shiver running down your spine leaves you seeking his closeness. You lean into him, sipping on the juice.

“Means I’m yours”, you whisper, listening to his breath hitch.

“Mine?” he repeats, voice shaky.

You smirk triumphantly, “yeah, yours. When you’re on business trips I always put it on, it’s like you’re right there with me.”

“My love”, Jungkook is almost growling, pressing himself into you while his hand grips your hip strongly. He buries his face in your neck, purring deeply.

You giggle, stumbling from how aggressively he is gripping you and with just how much vigour he is grinding into you. You knew it. This would drive him insane. You solely did it to get him that way. Desperate and oh so turned on.

“Fuck, you drive me insane”, he rasps, “I wanna treat you so fucking right.”

His hand rests itself on your stomach, pressing your body back into him. You fall gladly, moaning softly when your ass brushes against his growing cock.

You have to look at him. You just have to.

“Goddamn Kook, what’s gotten into you?”

He looks into your eyes, “why? Do you not like it? Did I do something wrong?” he asks panickedly.

“No, it’s just. You’re actually into that role, aren’t you?”

He nods his head, “I spent my entire day thinking about it”, he confesses and giggles cutely, “I couldn’t concentrate at work at all because all I could think about was us and, and you and just how excited I am for tonight.”

“Well, that’s not good. You shouldn’t do that, baby”, you say, caressing his cheek.

“I know, but I couldn’t help it Mommy, I just-”, he falters, lowering his eyes at you, “don’t do that”, he whines.

“Oh, cutie”, you laugh.

“Hey don’t laugh, it’s not funny. You’re so mean, you gotta give me a chance too.”

“I am, I am. Don’t worry”, you assure him, snickering.

He huffs out air, pouting.

“Fine”, you twirl, placing your hand on his chest, “I’ll try to behave from now on.”

“Thanks”, he says, relaxing. He touches your side, massaging it slowly while his eyes race over your features.

“I’ll try, can’t promise that I’ll succeed”, you say, smirking.

“Mhm, that’s enough for me”, he says, pulling you closer, “thank you, my love. I really need this, so thank you.”

He is so sweet. You are melting on the spot. He is so, so sweet.

“Now”, you say and shotgun the rest of your juice, “finally wanna tell me what you have planned for me?”

“Well first”, he says and takes your hand, “follow me.”

He leads you to the bed, sitting down and pulling you on top of his lap in a way so that your legs would tangle down on one side of him and your back was supported by his arm. The glasses are placed on the floor for now.

The other hand he slips between your legs, feeling up your inner thigh with teasing precision. You really want to squirm because of it. His touch is like fire on your skin.

“What would you say if I told you that I want to put handcuffs around your wrists? And then make you lie on the mattress while I feel up every inch of you?”

“Handcuffs you’re saying? What kinda handcuffs?”

You are acting oblivious on purpose. In reality, you knew exactly of what handcuffs he is talking. You talked about it last night.

He nods his head to the side, pulling your attention to the black leather cuffs currently resting beside him on the bed. You know these cuffs. They have been around Jungkook’s wrists a hundred times before.

“Those seem familiar.”

“Mhm probably. They’re comfy, trust me.”

“Yeah? Have experience with them?”

He smirks playfully, looking at your lips, “maybe.”

“That’s hot. Someone so strong and manly all tied up. That’s so hot”, you coo, swirling your nail up his exposed chest.

Jungkook purrs, moving closer until your lips are touching. One second of gazing. His hand moves, his finger brushes over your pussy. A gasp slips past your lips.

“No panties”, he says and smiles, “you listened. I like that.”

He is tracing your thigh as he speaks. He is so close to your middle that you would only have to move a little and you could have his touch. One more time. The first touch felt so good.

“I thought I’d make it easier for you”, you whisper, chasing him in a squirm.

“You did so well”, he praises, “now”, he pauses his touches, hovers his finger just above your clit, “can you tell me what you think of the idea, mhm?”

Again. He knew exactly what you thought of it because you told him last night. You were into it and you trusted him. It was still terribly exciting to hear you consent to it once again.

“It’s alright.”

“Alright?”

You giggle playfully, making Jungkook frown. It’s actually quite a sexy look on him.

“Kidding. I like it”, you say, grinning when this makes Jungkook roll his eyes at you.

“Pick them up.”

“Huh?”

“Pick up the handcuffs”, Jungkook repeats the order. His voice sounds sterner than before.

You follow with a chuckle, snatching them from the mattress to tangle them from your fingers instead.

“And now?”

“Put them around your wrist.”

“Like this?” you ask, messing it up on purpose.

Jungkook grabs your wrist harshly, genuinely flustering you. He is still frowning, working skillfully to close the shackles. First your right then your left. He twists the chain between them and tugs your hands closer. 

“Like this”, he says.

“Well damn. That’s one way to do it”, you murmur, gazing into his dark eyes.

“How do they feel?” he asks.

“Good”, you rasp, gawking at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, you’re just really hot”, you say, making him blush and lower his eyes. 

“Heh”, he lets out, gazing into your eyes. His hand slips between your legs again, massaging your inner thigh. You feel hot instantly, tensing your muscles in desperation. 

And as he runs his fingers over your skin, he continues talking.  

“I want to hook you to the bed by the handcuffs. What do you think of that?”

“Sounds constricting.”

“Yeah”, he places his hand over your pussy, moving his fingers as slowly as possible. 

You gasp because of it, parting your legs.

“I promise that it’ll feel nice. Like this”, he rasps, parting your folds with two of his fingers. He feels you up. Once. Twice. His touch retreats, desperation remains. 

“Jungkook”, you breathe, closing your fingers around a bundle of his shirt. 

Jungkook’s hooded eyes flit down to them, the right corner of his lips curls into a smirk. He touches your inner thigh, basking in the squirm you do because of it. 

“Can I call you cute?” he asks. 

“Cute?”

“Are you comfortable with being called that way?”

“Only when you say it. Why?”

He moves closer, squeezing your thigh and eliciting a loud gasp from you. His dark eyes flit to your lips, his breath tickles you as he speaks.

“Because you’re so fucking cute when you squirm for me”, he rasps, sending shivers down your spine. 

“Goddamn it, Kook”, you whisper, aching for a kiss. 

Jungkook purrs and smirks. He stubs you with his nose, getting to his feet afterwards with you in his arms bridal style. His muscles tense, he bounces you in his arms twice to get a better grip. And you are dizzy. Seriously, you are dizzy. You expected anything, but not for Jungkook to be so good at controlling a scene. 

Jungkook sets you down on the bed carefully, placing you in the middle of it and soothing you by caressing your cheek. 

“Are you comfortable?” he makes sure.

“Yeah, I am”, you assure him.

“Okay. Good. Lift your arms, I’m tying you down”, he orders and you obey. 

He grabs the rope, guiding it to your handcuffs to tie you down. He prepared the rope for tonight. Black tossa yute. He likes the feel of it and the colour. He thinks that it fits the overall vibe he is trying to go for. Dark and mysterious.

Jungkook finishes the knot, running his fingers down your arms and making you writhe in the process. His touch tingles like crazy.

“How is that?” he asks you. 

“Good”, you answer him, studying his face, “what now?”

“Now? I’m taking my time with you. You’re so beautiful, It’d be a shame not to”, he says, sitting down at the edge of the bed. He pulls one knee up, placing his arm across your waist. Like this, he is propped up on his hand, facing you with sparkly eyes. 

He runs them up and down your torso and as the seconds become longer and longer, those sparkles get replaced by hungry fire.  

You feel on fire too. Sharing silence with him. Being gazed upon. Building tension. Jungkook hasn’t touched you yet and somehow this is driving you insane. 

Jungkook moves. Finally. His touch lays itself upon your stomach. His warmth seeps through the shirt, your skin is covered in goosebumps. He caresses you, squeezes you afterwards. Strong and desperate. 

Jungkook locks eyes with you. They are dark and half-lidded. 

“You’re so fucking sexy in my shirt”, he rasps, voice deeper than usual, “I’m so addicted to you.”

“Addicted?” you gasp.

“Yeah”, he purrs, running his hand up your tummy and sternum until he reaches your throat. He doesn’t touch it, knowing that you don’t want him to go there. Instead he lifts his hand so only his fingertips are touching you. He tugs at the collar of the shirt, giving you a glimpse of what he will do next. “I’m running on nothing but you.”

You feel good from his sweet words. He always knows what to say. Jungkook slips his fingers to the upper most button of the shirt. 

“Can I start to undress you?” he asks

“Yes, you can”, you allow him, feeling incredibly safe right now. You didn’t for a second feel fear for tonight. There is a reason why you don’t want to sub. Not only for the most obvious one that Domming just feels a lot better to you and it comes natural to you, but also because being a sub in the past hurt you. The men you had to sleep with at your job hurt you, fucked you into non-consensual submission and left without making sure to fix what they broke. Quite frankly, being someone’s sub traumatised you.

But you weren’t scared of tonight because you aren’t scared of Jungkook. You could never be scared of Jungkook. Especially not when it comes to kink. He respects you, loves you and cherishes you. You told him that you needed him to ask permission for every new step he takes and he does. He is asking, going slow, making sure that he only proceeds once he gets your clear verbal consent. This is everything you needed and Jungkook is showing you once again that you can always trust him and count on him. And it is enough to make you feel safe enough that you willingly let yourself get tied up and therefore rendered helpless.

He undresses you slowly. Button by button. Each time he opens a new one, he feels up your skin with featherlight touches. There are ten buttons on his shirt, by the time you mentally counted to ten, you are aching for his touch. You really, really are. 

Jungkook retreats his hand, letting the situation hang in the air. Your shirt is still closed except for a little slit having formed in the middle. Technically you are still dressed, but feel naked already. Naked and desperate. 

“How was that?” he asks you. 

“Good”, you get out, “Jungkook, hurry up.”

“Patience”, he soothes you, caressing your hip. 

“I hate patience”, you say and huff out air. 

“No you don’t, you’re telling me to be patient all the time”, he retorts and goddamn it hits right where it hurts the most.

“No need to throw my own bomb back at me”, you mumble, making him snicker.

You send him a pout, one that Jungkook wipes away instantly with a soft caress to your chin.

“You’re so cute”, he whispers, making you roll your eyes fondly.

He retreats his hand, touching your exposed collarbone instead. 

“I’ll get on top of you for now. Is that okay?” 

“Yeah, it’s okay.”

“Good, that’s good”, Jungkook says and climbs on bed, claiming his spot right atop your lap. His slacks are struggling around his thighs and butt, stretching to their limit. The view is seriously making your mouth water. 

Jungkook sits down on you. Nicely heavy and warm. That’s how he feels. And weirdly enough, he feels in charge. Despite how normally submissive he is in this position, tonight he feels in charge and you are starting to enjoy it more and more. At least for tonight. He is so hot when he is bossy. 

Your eyes flit from his meaty thighs to his hands. He is currently fixing the rolled up sleeves of his shirt, making sure that you get the perfect view of his lower arms and working fingers. He ends it by running his fingertips down his own skin, rocking back and forth on you just once. 

He is so hot without even trying. No wonder you’re so irrevocably in love with him.

He lowers himself, hands coming to rest on each side of your head and dark eyes running over your face.

“You’re so pretty”, he rasps.

“And you’re drooling.”

“Mhm proudly”, he says, giving you a cute grin, “I’ll start to open your shirt now and I’ll touch you as I do. Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Good. Relax for me, my love. You’re in good hands”, he whispers and sits up, placing his hands on your tummy to feel up your torso. He stops once he reaches the collar of your shirt, hooking his fingers in it to tug it open. 

And so it begins. The addicting game of undress. Jungkook goes slow, eyes running over your body adoringly and fingers tracing your skin ever so often.

“I love it when you wear my shirts”, he whispers in a raspy voice.

“I know, you’re not good at hiding it”, you say, gazing at him.

“Who said I wanna hide it?”

“Hah. Sweet talker.”

“Mh-hm yeah”, he lets out and lowers his lips to your neck. He kisses the tender spot where your neck meets your collarbone. You find yourself sighing his name because of it, rolling your head to the side to give him better access. 

One Jungkook takes gladly, trailing his kisses along your neck while his fingers feel up your upper sides. His touch tickles in an amazing way. 

“You’re so beautiful”, he whispers, “I’m so lucky. Seriously so lucky”, you adds and swirls his tongue down your neck. 

“Ah”, you let out at the sensation, writhing in bliss. His tongue is so wet and warm, leaving behind a tingling cold sensation where the air hits your skin. 

Jungkook wraps his lips around a spot on your upper chest and sucks. It feels gentle at first until a small sting shoots through you. 

“Kookie”, you let out and luckily for you, Jungkook slips his lips from your skin to kiss a loving trail down to your breasts.

“My queen”, he whispers, “you’re mine. All mine. I love my queen so much”, he says and lifts his gaze to look at you.

“I love you too”, you tell him with a fluttering tummy. 

“Heh”, he lets out and lowers himself back to your chest, “my love, can I worship your breasts?”

“Yes, you can.”

“Thank you, you are so beautiful. I wanna make you feel so good”, he whispers and begins kissing your skin. He moans and sighs as he does, running his hands over your curves and rocking his hips back and forth on your lap. 

It feels so good. He is so gentle in his touches and loving in his kisses. Every second with him feels like a dream. A warm and safe dream. By the time Jungkook lifts his lips from your chest for the first time, you are so charged in pleasure that you actually whine.

“What was that?” he asks, tracing your ribs right under your breasts.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” he smiles boyishly, “are you sure? Because it sounded like a whine to me.”

He makes you frown and pout. He chuckles because of it, wiggling his hips.

“You’re a tease”, you get out and arch your back, “fuck Kookie, my nipples are sensitive.”

“I know, they’re really swollen too”, he says and rubs his fingers against them. The touch makes you arch into him again, forcing your lips to produce a soft moan. Jungkook circles his hips and moans with you, “that feels so good. Your nipples are so, so pretty.”

“Kook, seriously”, you sigh, “it’s driving me insane.”

“It’s starting to work, doesn’t it?”

“What does?”

“My plan to ruin you.”

You open your eyes, sending him a look. Jungkook snickers because of it, giving you a playful smile. 

“Look at you enjoying this”, you murmur, “so mean.”

He snickers with even more boyishness in his eyes, sliding his hands to your waist and leaning some of his weight on you. 

“Are you still enjoying it?”

“I am. A lot.”

“That’s so nice to hear. Oh Mommy, I’m so happy”, he says and leans down to smooch your lips. He cups your cheeks, rubbing his nose against yours as he wiggles his hips, “do you really like it a lot?”

“Yes, I really do. You feel so good.”

“Oh god, Mommy”, he giggles, “that makes me so, so happy. I wanna be such a good Dom to you, Mommy.”

“You’re cute, Bunny. Also, I thought I’m not your Mommy tonight?”

“Oh”, Jungkook lifts his head, blinking at you with widened eyes, “I uh…”

You laugh, “don’t worry, love. I’m just gonna act like you didn’t say that.”

“God”, he lowers his eyes shyly, “thank you. I can’t stop calling you that. It comes so natural to me.”

“It’s alright. You’re still in charge, don’t worry.”

“Okay, okay”, he grins cutely, “I want to do the next step to you.”

“Okay? What do you wanna do?”

“I wanna use the juice to get my mouth colder and then run it over your body”, his eyes shift to your nipples, his thumbs draw light circles on them, “especially your nipples”, he adds in a breathy whisper.

“That’s hot, do it”, you allow him, arching into his touch.

“Okay. Stay, don’t go anywhere”, he says and snickers at his joke as he climbs off your lap.

“Stupid noodle”, you murmur, smiling to yourself.

He skips back to the bed in happy steps and sits down on your lap again. He carries the flute of juice in his left hand, lifting it to his lips to take a sip. He swallows it, keeping up eye contact as he does. Once done, he smiles, letting out a soft chuckle.

You retort it, arching into his hand as he runs it over your torso. He cradles your breasts and massages them gently.

“The juice is so yummy”, he says and leans down to dance his cold lips over your chest.

“Mhhm”, you purr, closing your eyes in pleasure. His fingers are so warm, his touch so hot and yet his lips are so cold. The contrast of sensations makes you tingle like crazy.

Jungkook sits up and takes another sip. He keeps just enough in his mouth so he could wrap his lips round your nipple and make you feel the sensation. Wet and cold. Goosebumps form on your chest because of it. The tingle snakes all the way down to your pussy.

“God”, you chuckle, squirming desperately, “that’s cold. Hah.”

Jungkook swallows the juice, ending it by sucking on your nipple. You are so goddamn sensitive already that you have to close your legs and rub them together.

“Bunny…”

Jungkook lifts his lips, moaning softly. He looks up at you with sparkly eyes, smiling sweetly. 

“You’re so sweet”, he says, “I love your nipples so much.”

“You’re such a tease”, you whisper.

Jungkook scrunches his nose and sits up. He lifts the flute of juice and guides it over your tummy. 

“This isn’t gonna go well”, you tell him, watching with a dizzy head.

He tilts the glass.

“Bunny, listen to me. It’s gonna go everywhere.”

But Jungkook doesn’t listen. He tilts the flute and lets the juice trickle down onto your tummy. It goes well at first until it gets too much and the juice escapes down your sides. 

“Oh no”, he gasps, leaning down quickly to slurp it up from your tummy. 

“See?” you laugh, “you stupid noodle, you should have listened. I know what’s up.”

Jungkook slurps one last time, then licks up and down your tummy with the flat of his tongue. You have to be honest, that shit feels amazing. Cold at first until his hot mouth warms you up again.

He guides his mouth to your lower tummy, nibbling at your tenderness with his teeth tugged behind his lips. You squirm and giggle. 

Jungkook lifts his head, grinning up at you.

“This was all part of my plan”, he very obviously lies, “I wanted the juice to go everywhere so I can lick your tummy.”

“Mhm sure”, you say sarcastically and snicker, “you’re such a stupid noodle.”

“Heh”, he lets out and sits up. There is one sip left in the glass. He decides to trickle it over your tummy again. It spills again, making you chuckle and glance at him. He does the same, “all part of the plan.”

“Sure.”

Jungkook grins and leans down, slurping up the sweet juice while his hands run up and down your sides. The empty glass he discarded on the bed for now. 

Once clean again, he guides his eager tongue up to your breasts. His mouth is warmed up by now, it feels like fire around your nipples as he sucks and licks them. One at a time with equal amounts of attention shared between them. 

And while he does, he is rolling his hips on your lap, squeezing his thighs around you needily. He is even whimpering like the natural babyboy he is. If you weren’t so tied up and ruined in desperation, you would have grabbed him and flipped him to give him the fuck he deserved. 

But you aren’t in control tonight. At least, you pretend to be. 

“Jungkook more”, and so you beg, feeling not an ounce of shame in doing so. He makes you feel so safe that it doesn’t feel weird to beg. 

Jungkook lifts his puffy lips from your equally as puffy nipples. His fingers continue to play with them even when he sits up. His hips wiggle and roll against you, his butt is stuck out as he arches his back. 

This whole situation really is one big roleplay, you think as you watch him pose so instinctively submissive. 

“Did you just beg?” he asks, melting you with it. He is so cute.

“And if I did?” you answer him, thrusting your hips up. Jungkook squeaks and moans, pressing his thighs together. Cute. He is so adorable, “I need more, please.”

“Oh god”, he chokes out and wiggles his hips, “okay. Yes”, he nods his head vigorously and gives your nipples a soft pinch.

The sensation makes you sigh and arch your back.

“I want to use a rabbit on you”, he smiles with his eyes, “not me, an actual rabbit vibe.”

You roll your eyes, “you stupid noodle, that joke was terrible”, you say with a fond grin. 

“Hehe”, he lets out and leans down, forcing heat to rise to your cheeks from just how seductive he suddenly looks. Playful and terribly cute, but still very seductive, “can I use a toy on you, please?”

“Yes you can”, you whisper, eyes hypnotised by his lips. They are so wet and puffy from sucking your nipples. And so pink. You want to kiss him so fucking bad.

“Thank you. Now stay here, I’ll get the toy”, he says, kissing your forehead once before climbing off bed and strutting to the big toy wall. He discards the glass on a table while he is at it.

You and he are very proud of your collection. It took a few years to get it where it is today and you are still not done. Each toy has its separate compartment, while your more aesthetic toys even have their own display case. The rabbit vibrator was a White Day present from Jungkook. Dark pink and soft silicone. The toy is both controlled by buttons and over its very own app. Sometimes when Jungkook is on a business trip and you have sex over a video call, you use said rabbit to get off while Jungkook is the one controlling the pattern. Obviously he knows that he can only get his very own reward if he gives you a good pattern and until now, he has never disappointed. 

Jungkook closes the drawer and returns to the bed, but not before grabbing your favourite lube. 

You also use the rabbit to jerk off whenever Jungkook is not in the mood for sex or you are too lazy to ask him and need simple, quick relief. And on your most favourite occasions, you use the toy to get off Jungkook, stuffing his ass with it and using its curve to torture his prostate while the smaller side presses against his balls. Jungkook shakes like crazy whenever you do that.

Jungkook places the lube bottle and toy next to you on the mattress. He touches your legs, running his palms down to your ankles.

“Ready?”

“For what?”

“That”, he says, grabs you by your ankles and pulls your legs apart.

You squeak right along with your feet as they slide over the PVC cover.

“Jungkook why?” you laugh, “oh my fucking god.”

“I’m sorry, it’s always so hot when you do it. Did you not like it?”

“I did, don’t worry, just fuck. You’re better at that than I thought you would be.”

Jungkook grins cockily, “what can I say? I’m a natural.”

“You’re a stupid noodle that’s what you are”, you say with a fond giggle.

“Yeah…I like being your stupid noodle. It makes you laugh. I love making you laugh.”

“God Kookie, you’re so cute.”

“Heh”, he lets out and places himself between your open legs. He places the rabbit on your tummy, resting his hand on the sheets next to your pussy. Then he flashes you a cute smile, “you’re pretty.”

“God Kookie, I love you so much which is why I’m gonna tell you something now. Hurry the fuck up”, you say and groan, bucking your hips up in desperation.

He laughs, wiggling his shoulders.

“It’s not fun is it?” he teases and kisses your knee, “now you know how I feel when you tease me.”

“If I knew you would use tonight as a revenge scheme I’d have said no”, you joke, making his laughter grow.

He smooches your other knee then flashes you a smile.

“I’ll get started, yeah?” he says.

“Yeah”, you stress, opening your legs further.

Despite his words, Jungkook takes his sweet time in getting the toy ready. He picks it up from your tummy and spreads lube over its silicon shaft as slowly as possible, all while his pretty doe eyes switch between the toy and your face.

“Kook…” you warn.

He looks at you and smiles, “patience. I’m almost done.”

“You’re such a tease.”

He doesn’t say anything to that. He merely smiles and connects his lubed up fingers with your pussy.

You hiss at the contact, rolling your hips into his touch. It feels like ecstasy to be touched by him. His fingers are so gentle and know exactly where to touch.

“You’re so wet”, he lulls, massaging your pussy in slow circles. First your clit and folds, then he lingers on your entrance.

“Fuck, baby”, you moan softly.

Jungkook slips his fingers inside, forcing your body to shudder in pleasure. The breach feels so good that you have to grip the ropes and arch your back. Jungkook watches it happening with his cock straining his slacks. He didn’t dare to imagine you twisting ropes like this and yet here you are, twisting the ropes because of how good he makes you feel. He swallows down the mewl threatening to escape him and instead channels his desperation into curling his fingers just right.

“That feels so good”, you sigh, rolling your head to the side, “fuck.”

“I love this so much”, he confesses with his voice trembling, “you’re so soft.”

“More.”

Jungkook smiles because you are twisting the ropes again and you don’t even notice it. He’s really got you desperate, hasn’t he? He feels his heart flutter and his tummy turn in desire. This is so sexy to him.

He slips his fingers free, even if you whine, and guides the vibrator to your pussy. Your whines stops, desperate breathing replaces them.

“Take a deep breath for me”, he orders in a soft voice, listening to the way your breath hitches in your throat. He puts gentle pressure on your pussy and slips inside.

“Jungkook”, you release your breath in a moan of his name, clenching around the toy with your fingers closing around the ropes again.

“Keep breathing, my love. Keep breathing”, Jungkook talks you through it, staring at your pussy with dilated pupils. She looks so pretty around the toy, fitting right around it. As if you were made for it. Jungkook squeezes his legs together and pushes the last two inches inside, “done. How are you?”

“Turn it on, please.”

“Did you just beg again?”

“Fuck, shut up and do it”, you throw back in a chuckle, sending him a look.

Jungkook snickers, scrunching his nose up, “you’re so cute”, he says and presses the on button. The toy begins purring and humming, sending vibrations through your pussy.

“Holy shit”, your eyes roll back and fall closed, your legs open further, “Jungkook….”

“That’s it. Relax”, he speaks in whispers, moving the toy back and forth carefully, “how’s that, my love?”

“Good, really good just…move the clit part a little to the left.”

Jungkook fixes the position, “like this?”

“Yes”, you groan, rolling your hips up, “yes there. Keep that going. Jungkook, right there.”

“This makes me so hard”, he confesses in a mewl. He gets on his knees, squeezing his cock between his thighs this way. He keeps rubbing them together, finding relief that way. He knows that it’s not the most dominant position, but he can’t help himself. He loves it so much when he can serve you! He loves making you feel good, moan and shake. He loves it so much that he gets so horny that he just has to rub his cock against whatever is closest. And tonight his clothed thighs are the closest friction he can get and he chases it like a needy bunny while his hand never once messes up the rhythm of the toy.

It is not long and he has you arching your back for an orgasm. Your thighs are trembling and your fingers ache from twisting the ropes.

“Jungkook, I have to cum”, you confess in a moan, readying yourself for the amazing high with bated breath. You just know that the orgasm is going to feel like heaven. He managed to rile you up so much that it will consume your entire body. You can’t wait to have it.

In three, two…

Jungkook removes the toy from your pussy and turns it off. The fire dies down, agony replaces it.

“What the hell?” you groan, writhing in pain, “holy fuck, did you just edge me?”

Your eyes meet. While you are genuinely shocked by what just happened, Jungkook seems proud of himself.

“Yeah”, he says.

“What the fuck?”

He laughs, wiggling his shoulders. 

“No seriously, what the fuck? Why would you do that?” you press out. He never edged you without your orders before. This is a fucking first and goddamn, it riles you up.

“Because I can”, he throws back and grins.

“You are. So. Mean”, you get out and drop your head, “holy shit, I wanna cum.”

Jungkook snickers, running his hands down your thighs. He pushes them apart gently and lowers himself to your pussy. He plops down on his tummy and finally connects his mouth with your heat.

You flinch at the sudden wet warmth around your pussy, tugging at the ropes so aggressively that the rings jingle.

“Jungkook”, you choke out, “Jungkook, holy fuck.”

Jungkook mewls into you, lapping at your wet pussy with his sparkly eyes gazing up at you. You taste sweet like the lube he covered you in. He licks you until the taste has faded and only the amazing taste of your pleasure coats his tongue. He loves this taste so much more than the tacky artificial sweetness of lube.

He closes his arms around your thighs and tugs you closer, slurping deliciously as he drinks your taste.

“You’re fucking amazing”, you get out, writhing in pleasure, “I’m fucking serious, you’re amazing.”

Jungkook fucks the mattress because of your praise, moaning into your pussy desperately. He runs his palms up and down your tender thighs, soothing the shakes running through them each time he runs his eager tongue over your clit. He loves those shakes so much that he wants them to run through you constantly. He focuses his licks on your clit, switching between drawing circles and flicking the tip of his tongue up and down your swollen bundle of nerves. He knows that this drives you crazy.

“This is gonna make me cum”, you confess, shaking unapologetically.

Jungkook mewls and puts more pressure on your clit. He wants you to be as close to orgasming as possible. He has to get you as needy as you can get for what he has planned next. Your clit throbs under his tongue, but he knows not to pull back yet. It often throbs when he’s going down on you, this isn’t an indicator yet. In your beginnings, Jungkook often pulled back when you began throbbing under his tongue because he thought that you would orgasm, but years and years of practice and routine taught him that this wasn’t a sign yet. You just have a very reactive clit. Especially when his mouth is involved.

Jungkook listens to the noises you make. They are currently loud and filled with desperation. Good. That means he can still continue. You get quieter, the closer you get, because you always start holding your breath when you are about to orgasm. Jungkook knows that much. 

He speeds up his licks and moans into you so can feel the vibrations. 

“Oh, ah-”, you twist the ropes and hold your breath. 

Now.

Jungkook breaks away.

“Oh my fucking god, you didn’t just- urgh”, you groan and thrust your hips against nothing, “how did you know?”

Jungkook feels so incredibly proud right now. He knows you so well!

“Years of practice”, he says. He tries his hardest to sound dominant and confident, but his voice is shaking like crazy because of how happy he feels.

“This is the worst. Why do you know me so well?” you murmur and whine, “please Kookie, do something again.”

“No”, he says, hoping for one more beg.

“Yes?” you throw back, “please”, you add, meaning it honestly.

Jungkook giggles, “I love it when you beg”, he says. He sits up and reaches for the vibrator. 

“Yes. This”, you murmur, eyeing it hungrily.

He spreads new lube on it and your pussy and pushes it back inside, turning it on.

“Yes this”, you moan, rolling your head from side to side, “this is….ah.”

Jungkook makes minimal movements with the toy. He wants it to keep pressing against your g-spot because he knows that he’s got you horny enough that this is what you need. You love it so much when he goes deep and slow whenever you’re far enough into the sex. It’s those moments where you pull him closer with your legs when you’re doing it missionary and those moments where you grind down on him when you’re riding him. Jungkook can hear it in the way your moans leave you.

“Does that feel good?” he rasps.

“It feels so good”, you moan, circling your hips as you keep chasing the pleasure.

Jungkook mewls and looks at your pussy. He just noticed that your clit isn’t getting stimulated. He quickly fixes the position of the toy, forcing your hips to thrust into the sensation.

“Holy shit”, you press out under your breath and then you begin to grow more and more silent as you hold your breath for longer and longer.

Jungkook circles the toy.

Silence. You are holding your breath.

Jungkook removes the toy.

“Noo Bunny, can’t you let Mommy cum?” you whine, writhing on the sheets. 

“I’m sorry Mommy, I can’t”, Jungkook says, putting the now turned off toy on the sheets.

“Fucking hell urgh”, you groan, chasing his fleeing touch as your fingers twist the ropes.

Jungkook soothes the agony by running his hands up and down your inner thighs, placing soft kisses on your knee. 

“Sorry Mommy, so sorry”, he whispers.

“No you’re not, you’re enjoying this”, you grumble. 

Jungkook snickers, climbing on top of you. He places his hands on each side of your head, gazing down at you. He is arching his back. Even now when he is the one charge, he finds himself in such a fuckable posture naturally. 

“Can you tell me your colour?” he asks, rocking back and forth mindlessly. 

“Green, but a really edged green.” 

He scrunches his nose up, giggles. You chuckle, gazing at him.

“You’re so funny”, he says, booping your nose with his finger.

You shake him off, huffing out air as you pretend to be angry. You even furrow your brows at him.

“Make me cum, you brat”, you grumble.

Jungkook snickers and kisses your forehead, “you calling me like that doesn’t work on me tonight.”

“Hmpf, you meanie”, you mumble.

“I’m sorry”, he coos and turns on your body so you have his clothed cock right above your face.

“Really?” you laugh, oggling it hungrily. It is a miracle to you how his slacks still manage to contain his cock. It is filling up his left pant leg, bulging the fabric painfully. Poor boy must be in so much pain right now. You gulp, yearning for his cock in your mouth. He must be so wet by now. You want him running down your throat and throbbing against your tongue.

“Get naked and let me suck your pretty cock”, you order.

“No”, Jungkook throws back and wiggles his hips teasingly. He knows exactly what he is doing. 

“You’re such a brat. Do as you’re told.”

“I don’t have to do anything”, he snickers cutely, “I’m in charge.”

“Wow”, you laugh and writhe, “fuck, you drive me insane.”

“I know”, Jungkook throws back and wiggles his hips one last time. You growl and try to snatch him by lifting your head, but he moves away. Your eyes meet. He looks so full of mischief and entertainment. The giggles he lets out are indicator enough just how much he enjoys being a little brat tonight. And you can’t even be mad at him, because he is in charge and can do whatever he wants. Oh, you are crazy for this man. 

“Once I’m free again, you’ll see what this gets you”, you mumble and huff out air. 

“Mhm okay”, he purrs and grins. Then he turns away again. He arches his back and lowers himself to your pussy.

“Bunny”, you gasp, arching into him. This feels like heaven. His mouth is so warm and wet, his lips are so soft. 

Jungkook grips your hips and tilts them up, moaning around your clit as he sucks on her needily. He moves his head as he sucks, rubbing his cute nose through your folds as best as the position allows him to.

“Yes Bunny. Fuck, that feels so good.”

He loves sixty-nining with you so much. Bear in mind, his favourite variation of the position is when he is tied up, blindfolded and plugged up while you smother him and suck his cock. This is what really gets him going, but this right now is heaven as well. You taste like lube again, but Jungkook cleans it off within a few seconds. Then your unfiltered, raw taste coats his tongue and Jungkook finds himself moaning around your clit even louder.

“Holy fuck, please don’t stop.”

Jungkook doesn’t know if he could stop again. You taste so good that he feels dizzy. He wanted to edge you with his mouth one more time and then make you cum with the vibrator, but he doesn’t know if he has the strength to do that. Jealousy stings in his chest when he thinks about making you climax with a toy. He doesn’t want the toy to be the thing which sends you off. He wants to be the one making you see stars. He wants you to fall silent in bliss because of his mouth and not because of a stupid toy.

Jungkook growls into you and furrows his brows. It’s decided then. The toy won’t get your orgasm, never ever. He will make you cum with his mouth. Yes, that’s it.

“I’m close”, you get out and whimper, “please Jungkook, don’t edge me anymore.”

You aren’t aware that your begging is useless. Jungkook already made up his mind. He is going to make you cum. He growls around your clit, sucking it between his lips harshly. And he keeps it right there, suckling on it with his cock throbbing in his slacks. So good. You taste so good.

“Jungkook”, you mewl, sounding so utterly ruined, “Jungkook, you’re making me cum.”

He whimpers, dimpling your hips as he grips them harder.

“Ah”, you let out and then grow silent.

Jungkook mewls at the realisation, concentrating all of his attention on the spot which made you go silent.

“Fuck. Now”, you press out and thrust your hips up. The knot in your tummy bursts, the hottest orgasm takes a hold of you, “Jungkook”, you moan loudly, shaking uncontrollably. As much as you hate to admit it, you are glad that he edged you because this is paradise. You haven’t felt your climax as deeply as you do right now in ages. This is the kind of high which genuinely makes your toes curl and which makes your muscles go limb.

Jungkook licks you through it, keening in a high pitched voice as his head pounds in pleasure. This was the best decision ever. You feel so good when you are climaxing on his tongue. He can barely stop himself after your high died down, whimpering your name as he kisses your pussy over and over again. 

“Well shit, holy shit. Fuck”, you get out in breathy pants for air. Your body refuses to move, your head is turning. You feel so goddamn fulfilled. This was incredible.

Jungkook guides his kisses up your torso, crawling off of you gradually. He grabs your face and kisses you in the unfamiliar position. With your heads facing opposite directions, he has to suck on your upper lip.

You snicker and moan. It never gets boring with him. 

“Hm”, Jungkook hums and breaks the kiss with a cute smile. He runs his thumbs over your cheeks, gazing down at you. 

“Did you like this?” he asks.

“I loved it.”

“Then you have to thank me.”

You lift your brows, “really?”

“Yeah”, he says in a giggle, nodding his head.

“Wow okay”, you smile fondly, “thank you, Jungkook.”

Jungkook snickers and scrunches his nose up, “you’re welcome”, he says and pulls your face into a big smooch. 

Just once because then he sits up and runs his hands to your tied wrists. He opens the ropes and handcuffs, picking up your freed wrists to caress them gently.

“Does anything hurt?” he asks.

“No, nothing hurts.”

“Good”, he rolls circles into the tender inner side of your wrists, “you kept twisting the ropes”, he says and sends you a boyish grin.

“I did not”, you lie, making him snicker.

“Yes, you did. Admit it, you were really desperate.”

“Mhm yeah I was”, you admit happily, basking in the giddy giggles he lets out. 

You sit up and turn around. Now you are both kneeling, facing each other. You run your hands up his thighs, waist and chest until you can cup his cheeks. Jungkook squirms because of the touch.

“You did an amazing job, Bunny”, you praise him, “I was only that desperate because I felt safe.”

“Mommy”, he whimpers, gripping your wrists, “this is everything I wanted you to feel. I’m so happy.” 

“I’m happy too, my love”, you tell him and lean in to kiss his cheek, “good job, my love.” 

Jungkook giggles and hugs you, swaying your bodies from side to side enthusiastically.

“Oh Mommy, I’m so happy”, he confesses, squeezing you gently, “and, and now I’ll take you out for dinner and, and treat you to yummy dessert.”

“Yeah? What about your cock? You’re so hard in your slacks”, you say, running your hand up and down his bulge.

“I want to go out with it”, he talks breathily because of the touch, “you can do whatever you think is right to do. In the restaurant or the car or, or wherever you think is fitting.”

You smirk, “mhm okay”, you purr, kissing his neck gently, “so I take it that order has been restored, mhm?”

He giggles and nods his head, “yes Mommy.”

[among1024]

Wash Day Protocol Part 1(A Mini Series)

Black fem!reader x Park Seonghwa

a mini series where Seonghwa learns about black haircare

fluff/CURIOUS Seonghwa/idol Seonghwa/bit of perv Seonghwa/quality time with Seonghwa/established relationship/reader is implied to have type 4 hair

word count: 700-800

“Jagi!” Seonghwa yells from the shower.

“yes baby!?” You yell back. “Come take a shower and wash your hair with me!” Seonghwa continues to yell.

“I can’t yet babe! It isn’t wash day yet!” You answer.

“Wash day!?” What’s that!?” He calls out.

you shake your head, not answering his question. You knew that one day you would have to explain that your hair care is significantly different from his and that you two manage your hair on two different sides of the hair care spectrum.

Seonghwa expects an answer but was left with silence. Reminding himself that you were doomscrolling on TikTok, watching your favorite content creator(s).

Within the next 20 minutes, Seonghwa comes out of the shower, one towel covering the lower half of his body while showcasing his muscular idol like body, and a smaller towel drying his hair as much as a smaller towel could.

“so what’s wash day?” He asks.

“a day where I have to wash my hair.” You answer.

“but isn’t that everyday?” He continues to ask.

“no.”

“why? Do you not have enough shampoo and conditioner, I’m an idol jagi, I can buy you as much shampoo and conditioner as you want.”

you let out a small giggle at the reassurance.

“you didn’t let me finish” you start. “As you know, my hair type is different than yours, therefore people with my hair type and very similar ones do things differently, like washing our hair.” You explain. “We don’t wash our hair as frequently as people with your hair texture does because it cause our hair to dry up, it also causes breakage. So we have to wait a certain amount of time before washing our hair.”

“so how often do people with your hair texture wash?” He asks.

“Depends on the person. Some wash every few days, some wash once a week, some wash every 2 weeks, some wash every 3 to 4 weeks. I wash my hair (inserts your wash day pattern).”

“ohh, and that’s a whole pattern?” He asks curiously. Not even noticing the droplets coming from his hair as he was so intrigued to finally learn about yours.

“yes, it is. I primarily spend wash day washing, conditioning, detangling, which is an entire process that’s why your girlfriend is so strong” you joke. Patting your biceps. “I also spend that time doing hair masks, but it’s not every time I do a mask, but it’s pretty often on wash day.” You continue. “And that process can take up to about 30 minutes to some hours, mostly depending on the detangling time and the hair mask time, but it also depends on the hair length” you explain, pulling up a shirt tiktok to give him a glimpse of what washday looks like for type 4 hair.

“Ahh” he says, watching the video in awe. Thinking of how the hair are process is extremely different from his day to day hair washing process, and how time consuming it all seems to be.

“how about this baby, we’ll wash my hair the night your free and won’t have do anything the next day, does that sound alright?” You ask.

he shakes his head up and down. Excited that he gets to learn something new while spending quality time with you(which is his favorite thing ever). He checks his schedule on his phone on his side of the bed, checking to see when he is free.

“I’m free this weekend, does that sound good jagi?” He asks.

“that sounds nice” you answer. “Now put on some clothes and get yo ass in this bed, it’s getting cold without you” you pout.

“I can get in bed naked if you insist” he says, getting in front of you. Acting like he’s taking his towel off.

you wouldnt mind. You wouldnt mind at all. But now ain’t the time for pure fuckery. Save that for a later time.

“you’re fucking nasty, you know that?” You say, acting disgusted.

“Only nasty when it comes to you” he replies swiftly, before winking at you.

you feel yourself getting hot, and before anything else happens you bury yourself under the covers. You hear him laugh as he starts his body care routine(one you put him on to and insisted on him doing). He puts his boxers on and climbs into bed, turning off his bedside lamp and laying beside you, pulling you closer to him and cuddling you, squeezing you tight and planting a kiss on your forehead right below the band of your bonnet.

“I forgot to ask what this satin chef hat is for”

“Park Seonghwa.”

“sorry my love, goodnight.”

Wash Day Protocol Part 2:

[kitkat13001]

༘⋆₊⭑⋆｡ the ball pit

a late birthday oddity courtesy of kitty <3 happy belated birthday tomu !

“this absolutely was not here before.”

you and tomura stand before the building, staring in shock. 

you swear you’ve walked this route a thousand times on your way back from the city and there had been nothing but empty grass fields and dingy sidewalks, maybe an empty warehouse but way out in the distance. 

there’s definitely never been what looks like some kind of abandoned chuck e. cheese type place just sitting on the side of the road, that much you’re certain of. 

“it had to have been here, look at the thing,” tomura replies dryly, gesturing to the obviously old building. “maybe we took a wrong turn.” there’s vines climbing the sides, the neon sign has long been out, and the whole thing looks just shy of falling apart. 

“let’s go inside.”

tomura looks over and you’re beaming. although he has trouble saying no to you, he could do it if he really wanted. except that he doesn’t really want to, and is somewhat morbidly curious about the weird occurrence. so he just shrugs.

“alright, whatever.”

this probably isn’t your best idea. the place screams ‘cursed!’ like something out of a horror video game. there probably won’t be anything inside except an abandoned playground and some beat up arcade games, but curiosity seems to win as tomura follows you inside. 

at your request, he decays the chain on the door. going inside is like entering a whole new dimension. your tiny gasp of awe brings a little smile to his face. 

“this is so trippy. i’m scared.” in spite of your words, you’re grinning. tomura doesn’t miss the way you grab his hand as you walk further in. 

the place is totally deserted, definitely run down but not in terrible shape. 

you’re giddy when you let go of tomura’s hand to run over to a large lever. “i think this is the power. how much d’you wanna bet it still works?”

“i think it’ll be a miracle if you don’t electrocute yourself,” he replies sarcastically, trailing behind and watching you throw the lever. 

by some miracle, the lights flicker and the place comes to life. the room fills with various neon colors, blinking lights and cartoon voices from the games. 

tomura thinks it’s kind of creepy, but your face absolutely lights up. 

it feels like a time loop in here. you both have no idea how long you spend running around, playing video games and skeeball and making every effort to stay far away from the curtained stage. 

tomura doesn’t follow you up when you venture into the abandoned playground, but he does catch you when you come tumbling down the slide screaming about a spider. 

he snorts, watching you dust yourself off, and carefully plucks a speck of dust from your hair with nimble fingers. “don’t know what you expected to find up there besides bugs.”

you wave him off with a little mumble about him being pessimistic before you collapse at the edge of the playground that drops off into a ball pit, winded from your escapade. 

he drifts over to follow, taking a cautious seat by your side and gazing at the pool of neon plastic spheres. 

“this is so five nights at freddy’s,” he notes, gaze wandering around at the desolate place. he chuckles to himself at the oddity of it all. 

“i’ve only seen the movie,” you reply, sitting up beside him. 

“what? that’s criminal.”

“i liked it!” you protest, grinning with your tongue between your teeth. “josh hutcherson~”

“you’re depraved.”

you giggle, bumping him with your shoulder. “you like it.”

he does, but he’s not going to tell you that. so he lets you both lapse into comfortable silence, listening to the off-tune video game music and electronic beeping until you speak again a few moments later. 

“imagine something reached out of the pit and grabbed us?”

“why would you say that?!”

you burst into raucous laughter and fall against him before he can move to push you into the ball pit. the warmth and weight of your body against his is a strange kind of comfort. 

tomura didn’t tell you it was his birthday. it just didn’t seem like something worth mentioning, especially if you were going to make a big deal out of it which would only guilt and embarrass him. but still, sitting here with you, legs dangling in the creepy ball pit like it’s a picturesque lake at sunset? this is probably his best birthday yet. 

dividers by @/saradika-graphics, pics from pinterest — mmyehhh i got a lil lazy in the middle bc it’s already lateee and i kinda wanted to just get it outtt but the focal point was the endingggg :3 anywaysss hope you like!! much love and good night, - kitty ! 

[hoe-days]

LISTEN UR PROBABLY SICK OF ME BUT I HAVE MORE THOUGHTS AND ILL PUT EM IN A LIST OF NO PARTICULAR ORDER

•so senku’s s/o probably did the whole giant hug thing with him once they broke out of the stone, we all agree. I wholeheartedly think that he took that opportunity to also grab a giant handful of their ass

•senku doesn’t feel insecure per say but I feel like he’s a teeny lil bit bitter if his s/o is ever compliments someones(TSUKASA) strength because he’s like “excuse you now where’s my compliment”

•senku loves any body part that’s squishy, Stanley is an ass or thighs man, xeno isn’t all that interested but he’d probably like boobs/chests or maybe even he’s a waist guy 👀, RYUSUI LOVES EVERYTHING OBVIOUSLY

•ryusui has approached senku and s/o with the proposal of them having a three way relationship but like it’s those two dating her and not each other and senku was just like NOPE because he’s kinda greedy frfr

•Yo is a literal dingus so he probably didn’t even realize s/o and senku were together and tried to be “smooth” with her multiple times

•Stanley likes to leave bite marks, xeno probably leaves one or two hickies, senku lets s/o leave hickies on him SOMETIMES

Okay anyways I’d love to hear your opinions on all these BYEEEEEEE -🐌

I WILL NEVER GET TIRED OF YOU SNAIL ANON I LOVE WHEN PEOPLE SEND THESE TO ME

——

OKAY SO Senku would do that, just to be annoying. He wouldn’t make a big scene, but he’d pinch it and be like “Now that you’re here let’s get to work. We’ll get things done 2x faster.”

Senku for the most part won’t care, but he’d be a bit annoyed, at the end of the day he’s a man with pride. He’d somehow turn it into teasing you and would just be like, “If you like Tsukasa so much why don’t you ask him and his muscles to make sodium carbonate for you.”

“I don’t even need baking soda right now, what are you on about?”

Senku loves the squishy bits for sure, he’s spent countless days just lying his head on his s/o’s lap to rest his eyes because he stared at his computer too long while running calculations.

Stanley is from the south that man loves himself a nice ass. He can and will smack it when you least expect and that shit will sting. And for Xeno I can see him being a leg man. He’s a big fan of sitting down with his s/o’s legs across his lap so he can rub them while he works. Also legs are elegant. Ryusui is the type to kiss and nibble all over. He leaves nothing untouched.

Senku would 100% stare at Ryusui crazy for walking up to him and saying something like that

At first he’d ask if Ryusui is serious, then he’d tell him S/O has their hands full enough with him and science. (Though it’s possible under certain circumstance)

Yo def tries to get fresh with S/O, even if he gets ignored. He’d absolutely think it’s working too💀 S/O would ask him to do something and he’d just be like “Yeah they want me.” Senku just deadpans. Cause on one end S/O is getting Yo to do more, but on the other end S/O isn’t trying to in the first place.

Stanley bites and will be a shit about it. You could just be lying in bed, looking at your phone while on your stomach and he’d bite the hell out of your ass cheek. Then walk away like he didn’t do anything.

As I mentioned earlier, Xeno likes legs and he loves to kiss them when he feels like it. While rare, most marks he leaves would be on your thighs.

I can’t decide with Senku😭either he wouldn’t want you to or he wouldn’t care and would gaslight anyone that pointed it out. He wouldn’t even have a reason to, he would just to mess with them.

(My mind went blank on the Senku ones ngl, but they make sense too😭)

[yanderenightmare]

Hi I don’t know if you still use this system but I remember a post where you said that you had a categories for the different types of mha boys as yandares possessive v obsessive stuff like that do you still use it while writing for other fandoms?

In reference to these posts, I believe: BNHA yandere beginnings & yandere categories

Cool question!

I'd say it was never something I heeded religiously, but more something I might've referred to every now and again in an effort to find ways to keep the different characters separate.

Adhering to those set yandere categories, it was easier to gauge what reaction different yandere types would have between each other set in similar scenarios. It was more important to me at that time to write them all fundamentally differently because I usually wrote a lot of 'bundle' posts with several characters going through the same imagine.

Take "wrongfully punished," for example, where each BNHA yandere is under the false impression that their captive darling has broken their rules somehow.

Here we have Bakugou, whom I diagnosed as a protective, possessive, and denialistic yandere. He believes that his darling has stolen a knife and proceeds to absolutely lose his shit—his first instinct is to hold back and demand she give it back with minor consequences, but as she refuses (as she hasn't stolen anything), he quickly decides on a punishment that far exceeds the crime—carving the word 'quirkless' into her arm. Then, upon understanding that he was wrong and it was all a misunderstanding, he's just as quick to crash into despair, bearing witness to his horrifying and unjustifiable actions.

His protectiveness and possessiveness come through in how hurt he is over her betrayal, how important it is to him for her to understand that there is no universe in which he'll allow her to escape, and furthermore, no possible way for her to live in the outside world without him if she did—and he'll go to any lengths to ensure she understands that, hence branding what he sees as the ultimate weakness into her arm.

He's a denialistic yandere—wherein the reality he's created for himself, he's able to view his actions as protection—for better or for worse. Condoning his behavior, telling himself that she needs him. But then, as the realization hits and he's forced to see what he's done, his denial reaches its limit, and he's slapped with the understanding that the only one she needs protection from is none other than himself.

Hawks, an obsessive, dependant, and denialistic yandere, has somewhat of a similar reaction where his denials also reaches a limit and he's forced to see his wrongs reflected on him.

However, Deku, an obsessive and possessive yandere, has a very different reaction. Instead of feeling regret or remorse, he hasn't got a single apologetic bone in his body. He's calm and collected, doesn't crack under the pressure of being wrong, and instead simply takes it in stride. In other words, he's built for it and hasn't been denying his nature the same way the other two have.

Where Bakugou and Hawks carry around a constant sense of self-loathing they deny by always finding convoluted ways of condoning their actions under pretenses, such as doing it all to protect their darling or because they love them, Deku is way more honest with himself. He's not doing any of it to protect them, and he's more than aware that love isn't a good enough excuse to hold someone captive. No, he's doing it because he can and he wants to. And he's made peace with that.

In regard to if I still use those categories, I'd say yes, to some degree.

I mean, in simpler viewpoints, one might just look at those categories as personality types. Or rather, if a character has certain set of personality traits, it's then natural for them to be a certain type of yandere.

But at the same time, it's fun to switch it up and give a character completely different yandere traits than what one might naturally expect—for example, suddenly making Bakugou more in line with the yandere type we see portrayed by Deku, and vice versa.

All in all, I'd say these categorical differences are all just tools, and I use and abuse them any way I see fit to create new and exciting takes on what would otherwise be the same story over and over.

If that makes any sense.

[hainge]

"I love when you rage with me"

summary:You’re buried in university work, feeling overwhelmed and exhausted, while Kaiser, the confident athlete, notices your sedentary lifestyle and drags you to the gym. Though hesitant at first, you push through the workout, facing Kaiser's teasing and challenges. fem!reader x kaiser warnings:none word count:3.9k

a/n:this is an old draft and it was supposed to be shorter but I got carried away and typed a little too much imo jncjsnfhbummmm...I think I made it too simple/like I was in a hurry and there’s not much fluff this time sorry but I hope you all like iittttt

Right now, your life can be summed up in one word: university. Assignments, reports, presentations, endless readings, it all consumes you in a way that feels almost suffocating. Days blur together in a repetitive cycle of attending lectures, conducting research, and frantically typing away on your laptop, always haunted by looming deadlines.

Meanwhile, Michael Kaiser is out there living his best life. He trains, plays football, and glides across the field with that smug confidence of someone who holds the world in the palm of his hand. He does what he loves, basks in applause, and racks up victories. And you? You collect dark circles under your eyes and an ever-growing emotional debt to your own body, which has been begging for a little more care.

But, of course, you don’t have time for that. Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

The problem is, Kaiser has already noticed your sedentary routine, and he has no intention of letting it slide. The door swings open, and just like that, Kaiser steps into your room, freshly returned from training. There’s a certain arrogance in the way he carries himself, like he owns the place, like knocking before entering was already a courtesy you should be grateful for.

His sharp blue eyes scan the room, landing on you, exactly where he expected to find you, glued to your laptop, either at your desk or sprawled out on your bed, deep in yet another university assignment. He scoffs, the sound dripping with amusement.

“Figures,” he mutters, before leaning casually against your doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. “You do realize there’s a whole world outside this screen, right?”

You don’t even look up. “Hello to you too, Mihya.”

Unbothered by your lack of enthusiasm, he pushes off the doorframe and walks further into the room, peering over your shoulder at your work. “So? What’s got you looking like you haven’t seen sunlight in days?”

You sigh, finally sparing him a glance. “An assignment.”

“Obviously,” he smirks. “The real question is, when was the last time you did something that didn’t involve university? Or, you know, moving?”  Here we go again. You’re used to his antics by now, his constant teasing, his inflated ego, the way he seems to delight in pushing your buttons just to see how you’ll react.

“I walk to class,” you reply dryly.

Kaiser rolls his eyes. “Wow. A true athlete.” Then, without missing a beat, he throws out the real reason he came here. “Come to the gym with me.”

You blink. “What?”

“The gym,” he repeats, as if you’re slow. “You know, that place where people move their bodies so they don’t turn into lifeless statues? Yeah, that one. You’re coming with me.”

The thought of going to the gym wasn’t entirely foreign to you. In fact, there had been moments, usually late at night, scrolling through fitness posts or watching people talk about their progress, when you’d thought, “Maybe I should try it”.Maybe it would help with the stress, maybe it would make you feel stronger, more confident. But there was always something holding you back. Time, for one, university was already draining enough. Motivation? That came and went like a fleeting breeze. And then, of course, there was the insecurity, the quiet voice in your head whispering that you wouldn’t fit in, that you’d stick out like a sore thumb in a room full of people who actually knew what they were doing. It was easier to just push the idea aside, to tell yourself you’d go eventually.

Except now, Kaiser wasn’t giving you that option. Your mind drifts, lost in the endless loop of should I? and what if?, weighing all the excuses you’ve made before against the nagging thought that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world.

And then, suddenly—snap!

A sharp sound pulls you out of your thoughts. Kaiser has just snapped his fingers in front of your face, eyebrows raised in amusement. “Hello? Earth to you. Did your soul leave your body for a second, or are you just ignoring me?”

You blink, snapping back to reality. “What?”

“I asked you a question,” he says, tilting his head slightly. “Are you coming to the gym with me or not?” His smirk is still there, but there’s something else in his tone too, an expectation, like he already knows what your answer should be.

And just like that, you realize, you might not have a choice in this after all.

The gym is louder than you expected. Machines whirring, weights clanking, the steady rhythm of feet pounding against treadmills, it’s all a bit overwhelming. You stand near the entrance, shifting your weight awkwardly from one foot to the other, scanning the room like a lost tourist who accidentally wandered into the wrong country. Kaiser, of course, is completely in his element. He stretches his arms above his head, rolling his shoulders as if this is just another day in his effortlessly perfect life. Then, he turns to you, and, because he simply cannot help himself, his lips curl into a smirk. “Nervous?” he asks, his voice dripping with amusement. You scoff. “No.”

Kaiser steps closer, leaning down slightly, his voice dropping into something teasingly conspiratorial. “You look nervous,” he muses, eyes flicking over your expression with a hint of amusement. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this before. Usually, you’re all... humble and hard-working. But right now?” His smirk deepens. “Right now, you look like a little lost puppy.”

You roll your eyes. “Wow. Motivational as always.”

He chuckles, clearly entertained. “Oh, come on, don’t be shy. I promise I won’t let you embarrass yourself too much.”

And just like that, you’re reminded of exactly who you’re dealing with. Oh, and it just started well. Started well by you slipping because someone spilled water on the floor. You barely had time to react before bam, you were on the ground.

Kaiser snickered. “Great first impression.”

After a warm-up that almost killed you (but that’s a story for another time), you both stood in front of the leg curl machine. Kaiser, with that smug look of someone who has everything figured out, turned to you, a playful grin tugging at his lips.

“Alright, now for the fun part,” he said, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Sit down, adjust the machine, and just do exactly what I showed you.”

You finished the first set, and surprisingly, it wasn’t that bad. The burn in your legs was real, but it was manageable. Since you and Kaiser were switching, one working, the other resting, you took a deep breath, ready to recover. But then, as you glanced over at Kaiser, you swore your vision was starting to blur.

There he was, casually cranking out his set on the leg curl machine, at max weight. You couldn’t help but stare in disbelief as he handled it effortlessly, his muscles flexing with ease.

"Seriously?" you muttered, half in awe, half in frustration. "Are you even human?"

Kaiser shot you a wink between sets. “I told you, schatz, I’m not like the rest of you. Keep up if you can.”

He clearly wasn’t breaking a sweat, and you, on the other hand, were starting to question your life choices.

Well, time passed, and surprisingly, you were actually enjoying it. The sweat, the burn, the occasional sense of accomplishment, it wasn’t as bad as you thought. But of course, that didn’t mean Kaiser was about to make things easy for you.

That guy, the absolute menace, was doing everything in his power to embarrass you.

Like when he handed you a dumbbell with one hand, making it look like it weighed nothing. “Here, take this,” he said, his tone casual, as if he were handing you a feather.

You hesitated for a second, thinking maybe it was light, until you tried to grab it. And in two seconds, it crashed to the floor with a loud PAH.

The whole gym went quiet for a moment, everyone turning to look. You stared at the dumbbell, your face burning. Kaiser, of course, just stood there, casually wiping his hands as if he hadn’t just set you up to fail.

“Whoops,” he said, barely suppressing a grin. “Guess you’re just not as strong as me, huh?” Without thinking, you shot him an angry look, narrowed your eyes, and, before he could say another word, you kicked his leg.

It wasn’t a full-on kick, but you definitely put some force into it, your foot connecting with his shin. "You jerk!" you hissed, still seething with embarrassment.

Kaiser blinked in surprise, then let out a laugh, clearly enjoying the whole situation way more than he should. “What? Can’t take a little teasing?” He stepped back, grinning like the smug idiot he was.

But you weren’t done. “You think this is funny?” you snapped, your face flushed with both anger and humiliation. “I’m trying, alright? Stop messing with me!”

Kaiser raised an eyebrow, still not taking you seriously, but the glint of mischief in his eyes softened just a little. “Alright, alright. Calm down. I’ll go easy on you... for now.” And hell no, he didn’t go easy on you. After each set, Kaiser would wipe the sweat off his forehead like he was some kind of god, then casually throw the towel at your face like you were his personal servant.

“Here, catch,” he’d say, not even bothering to look at you, as the towel smacked you right in the face.

And if that wasn’t enough, every time you’d start a new set, he'd make some ridiculous comment. “You’re doing it all wrong,” he’d say, watching you carefully, a smug smile playing on his lips. “You’re not even trying to engage your core. Are you even paying attention?”

It was infuriating, because you were doing everything right. You knew what you were doing, but Kaiser was just messing with you, throwing off your rhythm with every word.

You tried to ignore him, focusing on your form, but then, another towel to the face. “Come on, I can’t believe you’re this bad at this.”

You could practically feel your blood boiling. You huffed in frustration, wiping the sweat off your forehead. “I’m going to kick you out of the house—”

Kaiser didn’t even flinch. With that smug grin of his, he interrupted you mid-sentence. “We share the apartment, remember?” he teased, tossing his towel over his shoulder like he was the king of the gym.

You glared at him, but it only made him laugh harder. “Ugh, you're impossible,” you muttered under your breath, trying to ignore him, but he was making it so hard.

“Alright, stop whining and do some stiff-legged dumbbell deadlifts” he ordered, completely unbothered, clearly enjoying every second of your suffering.

You reluctantly obeyed, setting up for your first set. After a few reps, the burn was starting to hit, and you were this close to just dropping the dumbbells and calling it a day. But you didn’t, you were determined.

As you finished the set and bent down to gently put the dumbbells back on the floor, one of them slipped from your hand. It fell to the ground with a loud thud, and, of course, it landed directly on Kaiser’s foot.

“Ow!” He let out a yelp, stumbling back a little. “What the hell?!”

You looked up at him in horror, already apologizing, but inside, you couldn’t help but snicker.

Kaiser shot you a glare, but the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth said it all. “Nice try. Maybe next time, don’t aim for my feet.”

What could be better than leaving the gym with that brat?

You swore you had turned into a zombie after that training. Your body felt like it had been run over by a truck and your energy was completely drained. The only thing you wanted was to forget the last hour of pure torture.

The first thing you did when you got home was collapse onto the sofa, ready to just die right there. But then reality hit. You had to take a shower first.

With a groan, you forced yourself up, dragging your feet toward the bathroom. Every step felt like a mountain to climb, but you were determined to wash off the sweat and frustration from the day. After about 20 minutes, you finally dragged yourself out of the shower, feeling slightly more human, but still like you’d just survived a war.

As you made your way into the kitchen, you froze.

Kaiser was there, his hair wet from his own shower, standing at the stove with a look of intense concentration on his face.

He was... cooking dinner.

And, well, let’s just say it wasn’t the prettiest thing you’d ever seen. The smell was questionable, to say the least. You watched as he attempted to flip something in the pan, only for it to land half-burnt on the counter, probably some vegetables mixed with a weird sauce.

“Uh... what are you doing?” you asked, a little concerned but mostly trying to hide the laughter bubbling up.

Kaiser turned, not even flinching at the disaster in front of him. “What? I’m cooking. Don’t act like you could do better.” You smirked, crossing your arms as you leaned against the doorframe. “That time you really enjoyed the laxative I put in your food.”

Kaiser froze. His hand, which had been hovering over the pan, dropped immediately. His face went pale, and his eyes widened in horror as the memory hit him like a truck.

His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, but no words came out.

You watched as his confidence crumbled. “What? Did you forget? You seemed so happy after that dinner," you said, enjoying every second of his discomfort. "I told you right after, remember? And then you spent the whole hour in the bathroom...”

Kaiser’s face twitched. "D-Don't remind me!" His voice cracked slightly, clearly still traumatized by the experience.

He quickly turned his back to you, trying to act like he was focused on the pan, but the way his hands shook told you everything.

You walked over, peering at the disaster he was trying to cook. “It’s the same thing you made once that led you to be constipated?”

Kaiser shot you a glare but didn’t say anything as he tried to salvage the situation, stirring the pan with unnecessary intensity. “This time I’ll do it correctly,” he muttered, clearly not ready to admit defeat.

You weren’t convinced. You leaned closer to the counter, wrinkling your nose. “Michael…”

“What?” he grunted, still pretending like he was the chef of the year.

“This salmon is rotten.”

He blinked, looking at you as if you were crazy. “No, it’s not.”

You shook your head, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Yes, it is. Smell it.”

Without hesitation, you grabbed the plate where the raw salmon was placed, and before he could protest, you shoved it straight into his face. Kaiser immediately recoiled, but not fast enough, he gagged a bit as the smell hit him.

“See?” you said, trying to hold back your laughter.

Kaiser stood there, wide-eyed, still trying to process the situation. “God, that’s disgusting. Why do I put up with you?”

You shrugged, leaning into the moment. “You know you love me,” you teased, playfully ruffling his wet hair.

Kaiser’s face softened, and despite the gagging, he gave you a small, almost affectionate smile. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head though.”

“Traumatized much?” you teased, holding back your laughter as you watched him struggle.

Kaiser just muttered under his breath, clearly wishing the floor would swallow him up. "Never. Again." The fish was long gone, thrown out after your little “smell test”, and now Kaiser was trying to salvage dinner by peeling potatoes.

You watched him struggle with the peeler, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s not how you peel potatoes.”

He froze for a moment, looking at you with slight frustration. “What do you mean? I’m doing it fine.”

You couldn’t help but tease him. “Your ancestors might be disappointed in you. German and can’t peel potatoes?” (a/n:just to clarify, I’m not trying to insult any German that is reading this. I used it because my German friend’s mom actually said the same to him once because he couldn’t peel a potato, so it’s just a playful joke, not meant to be taken seriously😭)

Kaiser’s face immediately went a little red, clearly upset. “Schatz, that doesn’t mean anything. And where did you get that info that all Germans are obsessed with potatoes?”

You raised an eyebrow, grinning. “TikTok.”

Kaiser stared at you, mouth slightly open, as if processing the absurdity of the situation. “TikTok? That’s your source of knowledge now?”

You shrugged, not even trying to hide your grin. “Hey, TikTok knows everything. Plus, it is true. I’ve seen like a hundred videos about Germans and their potato obsession.”

He sighed dramatically, dropping the peeler as if he couldn’t handle the weight of the moment. “I swear, I’ll never understand you…”

You just chuckled, casually leaning against the counter. “Well, you do have a lot to learn, don’t you?” “Oh, just shut up,” Kaiser pouted, clearly not pleased with the potato-peeling critique.

You couldn’t help but laugh as you took the peeler from him and started helping him with the potatoes. After a while, you both moved on to making the salad, and surprisingly, Kaiser didn’t screw that up either. As you worked, you noticed he’d swapped the salmon disaster for chicken breast. You watched cautiously as he cooked it, but, miraculously, it turned out pretty good.

“Wow, we are so healthy today,” you said, impressed.

Kaiser gave a small shrug, still looking a little smug. “We eat like this every day.”

You glanced at him, trying to keep a straight face, but the hint of a smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “Really? So, this is just a regular Tuesday for you?”

“Yep,” he murmured, clearly satisfied with his cooking success. “Minus the day where you nearly poisoned me with your laxative, of course.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped. “You're lucky I love you, idiot.”

His grin only got bigger, and he seemed to almost glow with excitement. “I know you do. You just can't resist me.”

Surprisingly, dinner turned out pretty great. You actually enjoyed it a lot, and Kaiser couldn’t stop grinning as he watched your approval. He was practically glowing, clearly proud of himself for not burning the place down.

Afterward, you tackled some basic domestic chores, nothing too crazy, but your legs and arms were definitely still feeling the burn from your first day at the gym. You were pretty sure you'd be sore tomorrow, but for now, you were surviving.

By the time 11 p.m. rolled around, you were more than ready to collapse into bed, but just as you were about to settle in, you felt a weight on top of you.

You groaned, looking up to see Kaiser laying across you, his head buried in your chest like he was about to take a nap.

“Michael, just—Christ, you’re heavy,” you complained, trying to push him off.

He didn't budge. Instead, he looked up at you with a puppy dog face. “Can I sleep with you?”

You stared at him for a moment, half-amused and half-annoyed. “I mean, seriously? It’s been a long day, and you just want to—"

Before you could finish your sentence, he snuggled deeper into you. “I’m cold...”

You huffed, giving up on trying to escape. “Fine, but you're not taking over the whole bed.”

He smirked. “I’ll try not to,” he teased, even though it was obvious he had no intention of moving anytime soon. Kaiser, still not budging from his position, grabbed your hand and placed it gently on his head. He looked up at you with that signature mischievous grin. “Play with my hair,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument, clearly expecting you to comply.

You sighed, but despite the exhaustion, you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. You started running your fingers through his hair, trying to keep your movements light and easy.

As soon as your fingers made contact, Kaiser let out a long, almost ridiculously loud moan, his body instantly relaxing under your touch. The sound was drawn out, like he was thoroughly enjoying the attention. “God, you’re so good at this,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your chest as he snuggled closer.

You chuckled, still lightly playing with his hair. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Shut up,” he replied, though the content smile on his face was unmistakable. “Just keep going.” Time passed, and it wasn’t exactly getting better for you. You were so beyond tired, your body ached from the workout, and your mind just wanted to shut down, but there was one small problem.

Kaiser.

The idiot somehow managed to find the perfect position for himself, sprawled across the bed, and now, not only was he snoring like a damn freight train next to your ear, but his hand accidentally flew  to your face as he shifted in his sleep.

You blinked in surprise, feeling his palm slap against your cheek like it was some sort of accident. “What the hell?” you muttered, trying to adjust yourself without disturbing him.

But no, it wasn’t just a one-time thing. His hand lingered for a moment before sliding down to your neck, completely oblivious to the chaos he was causing.

You let out a frustrated sigh, staring up at the ceiling. “Great, now I’m stuck with this.”

You tried to move his hand away, but it was like trying to move a giant rock.

After a few more moments, he finally huffed, letting out an exaggerated sigh in his sleep. Without even thinking about it, he pulled you closer, wrapping his arm tightly around you like he was never letting go.

“Goodnight,” he mumbled into your shoulder, still half-asleep.

You sighed, but this time, there was no fighting it. You were too exhausted to do anything but let him cling to you, even though you definitely weren’t going to get any sleep with him attached to your side. “Goodnight”

The next morning, you swore you woke up as a corpse. Every inch of your body screamed for mercy. The soreness hit you like a freight train as you slowly opened your eyes, and you instantly regretted trying to move. You could barely lift your arms without feeling like they were going to fall off.

You groaned, trying to sit up, but your muscles betrayed you. Every movement was slow, like you were made of stone, and even then, it felt like your bones were creaking under the pressure.

“Ugh, what the hell happened to me?” you muttered, barely able to muster the strength to roll out of bed.

Kaiser, on the other hand, seemed to have woken up just fine. You heard him laughing from across the room, clearly enjoying your agony.

“You look like you got hit by a truck,” he teased, leaning against the doorframe with a smug grin on his face. “You sure you’re alright there?”

You shot him a glare, but your body barely let you move in response. “Shut up,” you huffed, trying to take a step and immediately regretting it. Your legs felt like jelly, and you had to hold onto the bedpost to keep yourself from collapsing.

Kaiser chuckled, clearly delighted at your suffering. “Yeah, keep moving like that. It’s funny watching you struggle.” He continued laughing, obviously enjoying every second of your pain.

You huffed in frustration, but he didn’t let up. "That’s exactly how you walked in the morning after that party where I demolished that pu—"

“DON’T YOU DARE FINISH THAT SENTENCE!” you shouted, shooting him a death glare that made him laugh even harder.