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artficlly · 3 months ago

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this is (not) fine [one-shot]

marvel au bucky x personal assistant!reader

personal assistant rules: don’t crush on bucky barnes. definitely don’t misinterpret a flower purchase and spiral into silent heartbreak, and absolutely never ever get stuck alone with him in an elevator.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, oral (f receiving), public (ish) sex?, wall sex (?), okay they fuck in an elevator guys, kissing, angst, miscommunication (not badly), hurt/comfort, there's some plot if you squint, insecure/self-conscious reader undertones, reader is an overthinker, reader is horny lol, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 9.1k

A/N: hi, hopefully this will keep you all fed while i work on part five to lessons in lovemaking. finally getting around to some of these requests in my inbox. this one is based off this request, but i changed it up so the reader is a PA instead of an avenger. lmk your thoughts thanx for reading <3 sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist

You’d never pegged Natasha as the type who enjoyed flowers.

No, she struck you more as the encrypted-flash-drive-on-a-park-bench type, the kind of woman who appreciated mysteries with teeth. A custom leather jacket, stitched with the same precision she used to dismantle a glock. One of those sleek, low motorcycles. Not daisies. Not peonies. And definitely not whatever soft, pastel nonsense Bucky was currently handing over cash for.

You stood a few feet away, halfway hidden behind a sidewalk sign advertising oat milk lattes and gluten-free muffins, clutching a cardboard drink tray and a bag full of vegan pastries in a death grip. The barista had spelt ‘Bruce’ as ‘Broose’ again, and under any other circumstance, that would've made you laugh, but now it felt like the most irrelevant thing in the world.

You liked Natasha. You respected her. You just didn’t think she had it in her to giggle over roses like the girls in those sappy rom-coms Clint insisted he hated (right before he would watch three in a row, a beer in each hand). But there Bucky was, brushing pollen off a bouquet of pale pink ranunculus, face soft in a way you’d never seen during mission briefings or sparring sessions.

And suddenly, you were building a list in your head of all the things you were sure Natasha Romanoff would rather receive as a romantic gesture: a knife, balanced perfectly for throwing, an expensive bottle of vodka, a vintage chess set with hand-carved pieces, a bottle of expensive ink and a fountain pen with a sharp nib, cookies—messy ones—overloaded with chocolate chips, or simply just black coffee, straight from the pot, no sugar, no cream. Yet, as Bucky handed it over to the redhead, she smiled. Smiled. And suddenly you felt like you were witnessing a scene you were not welcome to.

Truthfully, it stung. Maybe it stung a little more than what was appropriate. You’d been harbouring a quiet crush on the dark-haired, sullen supersoldier from the moment he joined the team. Fresh out of Wakanda, new vibranium arm in tow, and god, he was handsome. Not in the polished, television commercial way Steve was, but in a way that made your pulse skip and your thoughts stall mid-sentence. He had the kind of face you didn’t know how to look at for too long, sharpened jaw, stormy-blue eyes, and a mouth that always looked on the verge of saying something he’d regret.

There was something electric about his stillness. Like if you leaned in close enough, you’d hear the hum of danger beneath his skin. He walked like a man who never quite trusted, drifting through the tower like he expected a fight around every corner. He barely spoke, but when he did, his voice was low and gravel-worn, something that settled right in your gut and made its home there.

He never smiled. Not really. But sometimes—sometimes—you’d catch a flicker of it when Sam teased him, or when Steve nudged him just right, and it was devastating.

And yeah, maybe you had a soft spot for broken things trying to heal.

As the Avengers’ personal assistant, it was your job to keep everyone comfortable, informed, and running like clockwork. You were a one-person organisational machine, constantly juggling the chaos that came with managing a tower full of enhanced individuals with the emotional range of a brick wall to a nuclear reactor. Your days were a blur of colour-coded schedules, back-to-back briefings, and the never-ending group chats.

You coordinated mission debriefs, booked international flights with military clearance, and handled press requests that would make most people cry. You endured complaints when Thor overloaded the power grid again, trying to make toast, and even replaced the mugs he shattered before anyone noticed. You wrangled Clint’s kids when they came to visit, sourced obscure snacks from remote parts of the world because Sam liked those protein bars, not the other ones, and Steve wouldn’t touch anything processed. You replaced a record number of coffee machines, hunted down whatever special detergent could get oil out of Tony’s designer shirts. You knew which brand of muscle balm Banner preferred and how to order it without triggering a random Homeland Security check.

And then there was Bucky.

With him, it was always a little extra, whether he noticed or not. His schedule came first in your Monday morning rounds. You made sure the pantry was stocked with the Eastern European tea he liked but never asked for, and remembered the exact setting he preferred on the tower’s training room temperature controls. You adjusted group plans so he’d be paired with Steve or Sam, just in case the crowds and questions became overwhelming. When he disappeared for a few hours, you didn’t ask questions, but you made sure no one came looking. You even swapped out the scratchy tags in his mission gear with soft ones, because he never complained, but you noticed the way he fidgeted with them.

Every day, you’d beam at him like some hopelessly love-struck idiot when you handed over his usual coffee—black, two brown sugars, just the way he liked it—and in return, he’d offer little more than a grunt. A low, barely-there sound that most people wouldn’t even register as a greeting. But you did. Somehow, that grunt became the highlight of your day.

So yeah, maybe seeing him hand over flowers to Natasha broke something in you. Not just a hairline fracture, but a quiet, splintering break that left your chest aching in places you didn’t know could hurt. Still, you understood. Natasha belonged to his world, effortlessly cool, all smoke, shadows and secrets. Yet she was kind. Not cold or unapproachable, just… carved from something rarer than you. The kind of woman who didn’t need to try to be extraordinary, she just was.

And you? You were the sweet, well-meaning assistant who made people laugh in the kitchen, who fetched dry cleaning and remembered everyone’s birthdays. You were the one who labelled tupperware and chased down Clint’s kids with bandaids. You were an afterthought, the background noise in the buzzing hive which was the Avengers Tower.

So maybe you could justify feeling jealous, but angry? No. Not really. They didn’t know. They couldn’t know. And it wasn’t their fault that you’d let yourself hope.

—

Two weeks later, and you timed it perfectly, like you always did.

Just as the door to Bucky’s apartment clicked open, you rounded the corner—folder in hand, clipboard tucked tight to your side. The hallway was quiet, save for the low hum of ventilation and the soft thud of your heels against the carpet. Bucky stepped out, his gym bag slung over his shoulder, hair tied back, and his hoodie sleeves shoved up just enough to show the gleam of vibranium. Predictable. It was routine, every morning just before six he would meet with Steve in the gym. On Mondays, you’d catch him just as he exited his apartment, unload the details for the week, a freshly printed schedule and all.

“Morning,” you said lightly, handing him the week’s itinerary. His reply was his usual, a grunt. Not annoyed. Not grateful. Just Bucky. That gruff, barely-there sound that once felt like a small victory. The kind of grunt that used to warm your chest when he followed it with a question, even if you knew the answer was printed in the folder you’d triple-checked. You always answered anyway. You liked having his attention, even just for a few seconds.

You used to dress the folders up with care, multicoloured sticky notes marking key tasks (blue for meetings, yellow for reminders, red for anything urgent and green for personal events). You’d highlight sections like traffic lights, add stickers you thought might make him smile, sometimes even scribble little crooked cartoons in the margins with cheesy encouragements—seize the day!

The folder looked rather sad today, just a plain manila folder packed with stapled papers. No colours. No stickers. No effort. Just the essentials. You didn’t let your fingers dawdle when he took it. Didn’t smile like you used to. Just handed it over and kept your gaze somewhere past his shoulder.

Bucky took it slowly, eyes flicking down at the cover like he was trying to spot something that wasn’t there. His brow pinched, barely, but enough for you to notice. His fingers lingered on the edge of the folder, like he thought maybe he’d missed a note tucked inside.

You nodded and turned to leave, forcing yourself to shift your mind to your next chore mentally, restocking med supplies in the Quinjet, cross-checking Clint’s revised travel forms, hunting down the coffee machine Tony had threatened to ‘repurpose as target practice’. You’d have to order a replacement before the morning debrief. Double-check everyone’s dietary preferences. Update Steve on the tech room schedule. Get maintenance to repaint the lines in the training room because someone (probably Thor) had scuffed them again.

You stayed busy. It helped. Kind of.

But the guilt still trailed you like a shadow.

It was probably obvious how abruptly you changed. The way your voice had lost its warmth. The way your gaze dodged his like it might burn you. You wondered if he noticed, if he thought you'd simply grown tired of him. Maybe he had. That was better than the truth that you couldn’t stand to be near him, not when every glance felt like pressing fingers to a bruise you’d caused yourself.

You had made your choice, professionalism. The kind of cool, curated detachment you admired in Natasha, only it felt all wrong on you, like an ill-fitting coat. You knew it was for the better, not mixing up work and matters of the heart. You’d already let your little crush spiral too far, thinking maybe—just maybe—if you tried hard enough, you’d earn more than a grunt. That he might see you as something more than the charming assistant with her clipboard and her stupid stickers. But he didn’t. And he wouldn’t. And that was fine. It had to be.

You couldn’t afford to fall apart over a man who had no idea he’d broken your heart.

But it was Bucky’s voice, soft and unsure, that startled you from your thoughts. “Hey.”

You paused mid-step and turned, forcing a tight smile that didn’t quite meet your eyes as your fingers curled against the clipboard. “What’s up?”

He shifted his weight, clearly caught off guard by the fact that you stopped walking at all. He was rather devastating to look at when he grew all shy and unsure, fingers fidgeting against the edge of the folder like he didn’t know what to do with them. He didn’t quite meet your eye as his weight shifted nervously, like he hadn’t thought before he called out.

“Uh. Nothin’. Just—” He raised the folder slightly, an awkward gesture. “You usually give me the rundown. Y’know… what everyone’s doing. Who’s where. Who I’m stuck with.”

You swallowed. Of course, he’d noticed. Of course, he’d grown used to your chatter about meetings and mission rosters, about who was off-world and who was due back, like it was the weather. The casual, effortless way you used to tell him what movie was playing, who cheated at Monopoly the night before, or which team member had stolen the last protein bar. You’d always done it to help, keep him grounded, and make him feel like part of the team, like he belonged.

But after what you’d seen two weeks ago, you were sure he didn’t need that from you anymore. Natasha would look out for him now. She’d keep him balanced, keep him fed, keep him from slipping through the cracks.

“Nothing interesting’s happening,” you shrugged. “Just the usual.”

He didn’t move. “Well… there’s that dinner. On Friday.”

You gave a curt nod, tone clipped. “Yes.”

“Wanda’s dinner,” he added, as if you hadn’t already acknowledged it.

“Correct.”

He hesitated again, brows drawing together in a faint crease of worry. You could see him floundering, stuck in some internal scramble. It made your chest ache because you knew that look. You’d helped talk him down from that look more times than anyone else in the tower probably realised.

You sighed quietly through your nose, against your better judgment, against every wall you’d tried to build in the past week, you caved. He looked five seconds away from spiralling.

“It’s in there,” you offered gently, nodding toward the folder. “On your schedule.”

“Right. It’s just… for me, you usually…” His voice trailed off, frustration and uncertainty knotting in his brow. “Sorry. You’re probably busy—”

That felt like a punch to the gut.

You shook your head and, before your pride could stop you, your feet were already moving back toward him. His eyes dropped as you reached into your pocket for a pen, scribbling ‘Wanda’s Dinner – Friday’ on a green sticky note. Green for personal events, always. You hesitated, then added a smiley face underneath. You peeled it off and stuck it neatly onto the folder in Bucky’s hands.

His eyes dropped to it, finger brushing over the paper like he didn’t quite understand why it mattered so much. “Thanks.”

You just nodded, already stepping back, spine straight, pretending your heart wasn’t hammering in your throat.

“She said…” Bucky cleared his throat, clearly not done with the conversation. “Wanda said she’s going to do curry.”

You paused, unsure what to do with the information. Why was he telling you that? Why was he still talking?

“That’s nice,” you said carefully, not sure what to do with this strange, lingering version of him.

“Are you going?” he asked suddenly, and you frowned.

“I wasn’t invited—” You began, already covering from the invasive thoughts, already working to mask the sting. You didn’t want to imagine them next to each other over curry, leaning close, whispering in the way people did when they thought no one else was watching. It would only make the crack in your chest worse.

“You should go,” Bucky said quickly, cutting across your thoughts. “I’ll tell Wanda you’re coming.”

“That’s not necessary. I’ll be busy that night anyway…” You lied through your teeth, heart thumping hard against your breastbone as Bucky’s face crumpled a bit. You cut in before he could argue any further. “You’re going to be late. For the gym. It’s nearly six.”

“Right, shit, yeah. Sorry, I just…” He trailed off again, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks. I’ll… I’ll see you around.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, unsure if you were more confused or stunned by his sudden jitters.

—

Before the whole flowers incident, you made it your unofficial mission to ‘accidentally’ bump into Bucky as many times as humanly possible in a day. Now? It was the opposite. Every hallway was a trap to avoid, every room a potential ambush. Navigating the Tower had turned into something between a tactical stealth op and a personal game of hide-and-seek.

Unfortunately, your strategy for quiet withdrawal hadn’t gone unnoticed.

In fact, Bucky had picked up on your sudden cold shoulder almost immediately. The folder debacle had only been the first of many increasingly awkward run-ins.

There was the time you’d practically sprinted away from the elevator when the doors slid open to reveal him standing inside, a brow raised and coffee in hand. Or when you turned a corner too fast and walked straight into him, muttering a rushed apology before disappearing again like you were being hunted. Then there was the silent, painful breakfast you’d shared at the communal kitchen counter, where you busied yourself with peeling an orange for ten minutes straight while he sat beside you, occasionally glancing over like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how to begin.

You’d even pretended to be asleep on the common room couch when he walked in one evening, piles of paperwork scattered, laptop still open, only for him to drape a throw blanket over you before quietly leaving again.

And yet, instead of giving you space like you’d expected and hoped for, he seemed to find any excuse to be around you. He trailed after you like some misplaced puppy whenever he wasn’t buried in a mission or holed up in a meeting.

You’d assumed that the moment you stepped back, he’d naturally gravitate toward spending more time with Natasha. It made sense. Why wouldn’t he want to be around her? They were obviously dating, even if they hadn’t made it official yet. Maybe it was one of those quiet, close things kept just between friends, like Steve and Sam. Who were you to come barreling in and expose their secret entanglement? You expected Bucky to be relieved to no longer be on the receiving end of your babbling, your perfectly-timed coffee deliveries, or the not-so-subtle gifts you littered around.

But if anything, Bucky seemed determined to figure you out. Like your sudden shift had become his new pet project, and he was personally committed to cracking the case.

You’d taken the back hallway, the long, winding route that steered well clear of the gym on your way to the shared office. High-traffic areas were too risky now—too many chances to run into him. But clearly, Bucky had caught onto your little detours, because as you turned the corner, there he was, headed straight toward you.

You froze for half a second, pulse quickening. Turning around would be too obvious. Suspicious. He’d know exactly what you were doing, and then your carefully-constructed avoidance strategy would unravel entirely. If he suspected anything now, you were one panicked backpedal away from confirming it.

It was a nightmare. And a daydream.

A part of you, some soft, hopelessly romantic piece, ached at the sight of him, at the quiet way he seemed to look for you, worry always etched into his brow like you were some puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. But the rational part of your mind, the part that had dragged you into this self-imposed emotional lockdown, screamed that letting him get closer again would only undo all the fragile healing you’d managed to piece together.

So you steeled yourself.

Shoulders squared. Laptop and paperwork clutched like a lifeline. Eyes locked on an imaginary point just past his shoulder. If you kept walking and moved quickly, calmly, maybe he’d let you go. Perhaps he’d pretend not to notice how your pace picked up and your gaze carefully avoided his.

You nearly made it.

But of course, he noticed.

“Hey, wait—”

His voice was hesitant, just enough pressure to pull you to a stop. Your footsteps faded into the hush of the corridor, your spine straightening instinctively as you turned. Bucky stood a few paces behind, one hand lifted halfway between reaching and retreating, like he’d almost grabbed your arm but lost the nerve.

He looked sheepish. Timid, even. It killed you.

You swallowed. “Yeah?”

He scratched the back of his neck, boots scuffing lightly against the floor. “Did I… forget to grab my coffee this morning? Or… did you not bring it?”

A pause. Too long. You could feel the beat of your pulse behind your sternum as you forced a casual shake of your head.

“No, sorry. That’s on me. Slipped my mind.”

The lie didn’t sit well in your mouth.

It hadn’t slipped your mind, in fact, it was still sitting on the corner of your desk, cooling beside a stack of unfinished paperwork. You’d brewed it, as always. Even used the brown sugar he liked. But then you’d walked away from it, deliberately, like some idiotic breadcrumb trail you hoped he might follow.

God, you were pathetic.

Your stupid fucking brain couldn’t even decide what it wanted anymore. One half of you was charting escape routes through the tower to avoid him, the other was fantasising about him pinning you to the nearest wall. From the way your thighs pressed together now, breath catching as his voice brushed over you, maybe the answer wasn’t distance at all. Perhaps you just wanted to taste him—

He didn’t move. Just stood there, one brow lifted, faint worry creasing the edge of his expression.

“You’re usually down by the gym by nine,” he said, his voice low. “It’s eleven.”

“I’m running a bit behind today.”

“You usually text me if you’re running behind.”

“Well,” you said, shrugging like it didn’t matter, “I didn’t this time.”

He paused, the silence between you laced with something dangerously close to concern. “Is everything alright?”

You forced a small laugh, trying to shake off how his low, worried voice made heat pool in your gut. “Yeah. Why?”

“You seem off.”

There it was. Soft, plain and far too knowing. He said it in that maddeningly sincere way that only he could manage. Like he actually gave a damn. Like this wasn’t unravelling you by the day.

Your shoulders tensed. “Off?”

“Yeah,” he said gently. “Just… I dunno. You’ve been quiet lately.”

He didn’t know. He couldn’t know about the hours you spent spinning in your head like a lunatic, trying to compartmentalise this crush until it shrank into something survivable. About the way you’d stared blankly at Tinder profiles, your phone clutched in your hand, wondering why no one else ever came close, why none of them were him.

Why you couldn’t stop thinking that if you’d just told him—confessed that stupid crush before Natasha did—maybe you wouldn’t be standing here now like some stray mutt, sniffing around for scraps of attention.

Maybe then he’d be yours.

Maybe then you wouldn’t be fantasising about quitting just to put yourself out of your own misery like some lame racehorse.

“I’ve just got a lot on my plate,” you finally mustered, tone strained. “Tony’s soirée. The fittings. Admin crap. Didn’t even have breakfast today.”

His brows furrowed further. “That’s not good.”

“I’ll survive.”

Would you, though?

Would you survive the heat that flared low in your stomach every time he got too close? Would you survive the ache that gnawed behind your ribs every time he glanced over at Natasha like you didn’t exist? Would you survive the constant, desperate craving to be touched by him? To be looked at like she was looked at?

He didn’t speak for a second, and for a moment, you were sure he could smell the reek of desperation on you.

“The oranges in the fridge are gone.”

You blinked. “What?”

“And the tea. The fancy one,” he added. “The one with the dried raspberries in it. You’re the one who always restocks them, aren’t you?”

You looked down, fingers clenching around your folder. “I’ll add it to the list.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly, stepping forward a half-inch, enough to make your breath hitch. “I just… I didn’t realise it was you. Doing all of that.”

Of course, he hadn’t because you’d made it invisible. Seamless. That was the kind of care you practised—silent, anticipatory, never asked for, never returned. You had cared for him with a thousand tiny efforts, but he never noticed until you stopped.

You looked up, and the hallway felt suddenly too narrow. His face was open in a way you hadn’t seen in a long time. Gentle, confused, like he was trying to work you out and couldn’t quite bear not knowing.

You dropped your gaze. “I said I’ll do it.”

He paused. You could feel him thinking again.

Then, to your disappointment, he slowly nodded. “Okay.”

But he didn’t move. Not right away. He lingered like someone who hadn’t yet decided if leaving was the right call, like he was caught between concern and curiosity.

“I’ll leave you to it, I guess.”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. You just nodded and turned, walking away quickly before he could see your face fall, before he could catch the naked want in your expression, the way your heart was clawing against your ribs, screaming for you to turn around and ruin everything.

—

If time travel were an option, you'd gladly launch yourself into a wormhole and strangle your past self for being stupid—no, lovesick—enough to organise this little errand. You deserve it, really. A swift kick to the gut from future-you for being this hopeless.

It had all started a month ago, when you, like a fool, volunteered to collect the tailored suits and dresses for some little soirée Tony Stark had decided to throw. Of course, in true Tony fashion, what was pitched as a ‘casual get-together’ had evolved into a full-blown, black-tie spectacle. The first warning sign? Tony footing the bill for everyone to have custom outfits made to their specifications. Translation…this was going to be a thing.

You’d spent weeks wrangling Avengers into fitting appointments, helping them choose fabrics and cuts, managing last-minute alterations and tracking shipments. It was exhausting but under control…until the catch. The aggravating, absurdly attractive, brooding catch currently sitting across from you in the tailor’s waiting room, his knee bounced like it was transmitting a detailed morse code manifesto on every possible way he planned to ruin your day.

The plan had been simple: grab an Uber, pick up the garments, pressed, stitched, and boxed to perfection and head back to the tower. But then you got the call. The one that told you Bucky Barnes had missed his final fitting, and that his suit needed some last-minute adjustments...

Of course he did.

Of all your perfectly laid plans, it only took one missed appointment to bring it all crashing down. Now here you were, stuck waiting beside the man who occupied far too much of your brain lately, silently praying the tailor would finish quickly so you could escape before your sanity, or your dignity, completely unravelled.

“I really am sorry,” Bucky said for what felt like the fiftieth time.

Between the brooding and the nervous leg tapping, he’d spent the last five minutes watching the side of your face with an expression so guilty it was practically carved into him.

“Like I said, it’s fine.” You replied, though it came out a little too tight, a little too forced, like you were speaking through clenched teeth. Which, maybe you were. Not that it mattered. Not when you could smell his cologne from how damn close he was sitting. God, you wanted to lean over and bury your face in his chest and just inhale—

You straightened abruptly, shoulders stiffening as the tailor entered the room, and mentally reacquainted yourself with the concept of boundaries.

It had been an hour—sixty minutes of waiting while Bucky’s suit got its final adjustments. An hour of you trying to distract yourself with work emails and unanswered texts, pretending the man beside you wasn’t single-handedly causing your emotional stability to nosedive. At least when he’d stepped away to get re-measured, you could breathe without risking spontaneous emotional combustion.

This wasn’t like you. You weren’t usually this wound up. Maybe it was the exhaustion, days of juggling your regular duties with Tony’s ever-growing list of soirée demands. Perhaps it was the heartbreak. Or the missed meals. Or the fact that you genuinely had no idea what day it was anymore.

“Would you like to try it on before we package it up for travel?” the tailor asked, her voice gentle. A measuring tape hung loosely around her neck, her pinned bun fraying slightly at the edges.

Bucky looked at you again, eyes flicking toward yours like he needed permission. You swallowed what was left of your pride and gave him a slight, strained nod.

“It’s okay,” you said quietly. “Go on.”

“I’m sorry—again—this is probably eating into your whole afternoon, I know how busy you are—”

“It’s fine. Really. Just go.”

He offered a sheepish smile before disappearing behind the velvet curtain, tugging it closed with a rustle. You pressed your fingers to your temples, let your head drop into your hands, and exhaled through your nose like it might stop your heart from trying to break out of your chest.

Across the counter, the tailor glanced up at you with a sympathetic look as she readied the boxes for the other garments. “Long day?” she asked gently.

You lifted your head, managing a tight smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Only going to get longer.”

You were still nursing the tail end of your sigh when the velvet curtain swished open again.

And then your brain stopped working.

Bucky stepped out in full formal attire, sharp navy suit, tailored within an inch of its life. The cut of it hugged his frame perfectly. Broad shoulders, tapered waist, long legs. A deep navy waistcoat peeked out beneath the jacket, the subtle sheen of the fabric catching the light just enough to look expensive without being flashy. His tie was already perfectly knotted, like he’d done this a hundred times, and the sleeves of his shirt revealed just enough of the polished metal edge of his vibranium arm to make your mouth dry.

He cleared his throat softly, tugging at one cuff. “How’s it look?”

You blinked. Opened your mouth. Closed it again.

Words? No. Words were gone. Your vocabulary had packed up and left the building.

Bucky shifted his weight, clearly mistaking your slack-jawed silence for disapproval. “It’s weird, right? The waistcoat maybe doesn’t work, I told her I wasn’t sure about it—”

“No,” you said quickly—too quickly. “No, it’s… It’s perfect. You look… great. Seriously.”

His brows lifted slightly, a flicker of something you couldn’t quite place crossing his face. Relief, maybe?

“Yeah?” he said, glancing down at himself, tugging slightly at the jacket hem. “I feel better about it now. The sleeves fit properly this time. Thanks for waiting.”

The tailor beamed from behind the counter, clearly proud of her work. “Wonderful. I’ll box it up immediately once you’re out of it.”

Bucky nodded, but the tailor turned to you with a friendly smile before he could disappear again.

“And for you, would you like to try your gown on as well before I pack it away?”

You blinked, suddenly snapped out of your holy-shit-Bucky-hot-hot-hot haze. “My what?”

She gestured toward the row of garment bags. “Mr. Stark sent over your measurements earlier this month. There’s a gown here for you.”

You frowned. “That must be a mistake. I’m just the assistant. None of those are for me.”

The tailor hesitated. “I don’t think so… He was very clear. Your name was attached to the order.”

Before you could argue, Bucky cut in smoothly, like he’d seen this train coming and stepped in to redirect it.

“Tony probably just wanted you to look the part, too,” he said, voice low and casual. “You’ve done all the work, he probably figured you deserved to enjoy the night a little. Might as well try it on, just in case.”

You glanced at him, but he didn’t look smug or teasing. Just… earnest. Calm. Like he meant it. Which made it all the harder to protest.

“Fine.” You sighed, scrubbing a hand down your face. “Just to check it fits.”

The tailor clapped her hands together. “Wonderful. It’s a beautiful gown, I promise.”

You gave Bucky one last side-eye before following her toward the changing rooms, the fabric bag already in her hands.

From behind, you could hear him chuckle under his breath.

“Just wait 'til you see her,” the tailor murmured to herself, and you weren’t sure whether to be flattered or deeply, deeply nervous.

The gown was heavier than you expected. Luxurious fabric slipped off the hanger like water, pooling in your arms as she handed it over with the kind of reverence usually reserved for wedding dresses.

“I’ll give you a minute,” she smiled, disappearing to finish boxing up the suits.

Left alone in the changing room, you peeled out of your clothes, letting the gown slide on over your hips, your waist, up past your ribs. It clung like it had been sewn directly onto your body, the bodice snug, the neckline just daring enough to make you blush.

You twisted to try to reach the zipper at the back, fingers fumbling and straining, but the angle was impossible. You spent the better part of five minutes twisting in the mirror like a lunatic, trying to reach the zipper that refused to budge. Your arms ached. The corset bodice was half-fastened. You were flushed, annoyed, and far too aware of the sliver of bare spine still exposed.

You were about to peek your head out and ask the tailor for help when a low voice cut in behind the curtain.

“Need a hand?”

You flinched, fabric clutched to your chest. “Jesus, Bucky! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” His voice was rougher than usual, like he’d just cleared his throat. “Heard you cursing. Tailor said she’d be a minute out back.”

You hesitated, and your voice came out thin. “Yeah. I—I can’t get it up.”

“Okay,” he replied, oddly determined. “Turn around.”

You cracked the curtain open a pinch. He ducked inside, too broad for the narrow space, his frame practically filling it. He was careful not to look at you directly, at least at first.

You turned slowly, presenting your back. “Just the zipper,” you murmured, barely trusting your own voice.

“Sure,”

A single fingertip, cold metal, dragged up from the base of your spine to the dip between your shoulder blades. It barely touched the skin, but you shuddered from the sensation. Bucky wasn’t even fastening yet, just tracing the line the zipper would follow. The sound you made was too soft to catch.

The zipper came up slowly. Agonisingly. His knuckles brushed your skin every inch of the way, not by accident. No, this was too slow, too precise, to be innocent.

He was savouring it.

His other hand steadied you, palm ghosting just over your hip. His breath fanned warm against your shoulder.

“You’re trembling,” he commented.

You swallowed hard, unable to muster a response.

When he reached the top, his hand didn’t fall away. Instead, he swept your hair off your shoulder completely, fingertips grazing the line of your throat as he let it fall over one side.

He leaned in. Not touching, but close. Mouth just behind your ear. The heat of his breath against your neck.

“Should’ve let me help sooner,” he whispered, voice like a purr. “Would’ve had you dressed in seconds.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your lips parted slightly, breath caught somewhere halfway as your lungs deflated in shock. And maybe it was the gown. Or the silence. Or the way your thighs pressed together of their own accord, but you didn’t move. You didn’t step away.

You leaned in.

Only a fraction. Just enough.

He noticed.

You could feel it in the slight shift of his stance. The faint sound of him exhaling a chuckle through his nose. The way his hand brushed ever-so-slightly along the small of your back before falling away.

And then he was gone.

He stepped back like nothing had happened. Like the tension wasn’t choking the air between you. You turned toward the mirror in a daze.

The dress shimmered in the soft light. Deep, elegant, form-fitting. The neckline exposed the curve of your breasts, the slit at your thigh scandalous enough to make you self-conscious.

You caught his reflection in the mirror. He was watching you, but not with the restrained professionalism you were used to. It was only the sudden reentrance of the tailor that made him hesitate in whatever words were forming on his tongue. He stepped aside, finally giving you space to exit. And you did—legs shaky, palms sweating—like a deer walking straight back into the forest fire, pretending it wasn’t about to burn.

—

Your plan to avoid Bucky after the tailor incident had gone off without a hitch, maybe a little too well. You'd buried yourself in helping Tony pull together the final touches for his ‘soirée’ (which, if you were honest, was less soirée and more ‘black tie circus in a penthouse’).

You'd been so laser-focused on your tasks that you'd almost managed not to think about Bucky in that goddamn changing room. His fingers ghosting up your bare spine like a spark setting fire to dry kindling. You’d folded instantly. Your body betrayed you instantly while your brain screamed to keep it together. Pathetic.

The moral implications of whatever that moment had been were filed away for another day. Were you the other woman? Was Natasha going to slit your throat in your sleep? What was Bucky doing, touching you like that—in a public changing room, no less—when he had a bombshell redhead waiting for him back at the Tower?

No time for that now. Not when Tony’s precious ‘soirée’ was already in full swing upstairs and the caterers had somehow forgotten an entire section of the food. You’d scrambled together an emergency order from some overpriced restaurant Tony swore he was ‘basically family’ with, and by some miracle, they came through in the nick of time.

Now you were in damage control mode, hauling three boxes of overpriced canapés up to the penthouse. Your heels bit into your feet with every step, your dress clung too tightly to bend properly without your tits spilling out, and your patience was hanging on by a single goddamn thread.

You pressed the elevator button with your elbow and exhaled as the doors slid open.

Drop off the food. Grab a free drink. Drown your Bucky-related sorrows. Maybe, just maybe, keep the beast between your legs from waking at the mere sight of him.

The doors began to close. You shifted your weight, careful with the boxes balanced in your arms—

Then someone slipped through at the last second.

Him.

Bucky fucking Barnes.

Tall and devastating as usual in his dark navy suit, his tie loosened just enough to suggest mischief, or maybe carelessness. You weren’t sure which one made you feel worse.

Your breath hitched. Instinctively, your gaze dropped to the floor, feigning sudden, all-consuming interest in the stability of your precarious tower of hors d'oeuvres. But teetering stacks of overpriced finger food or not, Bucky didn’t seem inclined to play along with your avoidance act. Not now. Not when the elevator doors had sealed you in together, finally, and you were without escape.

You winced at the sound of his sharp inhale, the question already pressing past his lips before the elevator even jolted into motion.

“Did I do something to piss you off?”

You didn’t look up. Eyes fixed firmly on the floor, you muttered, “What?”

“I just…” His voice was rough. Tired. “It feels like you’ve been avoiding me.”

Shit.

He stepped forward slightly. Not enough to be invasive. Just enough to make your stomach flip.

“You hardly talk to me anymore,” he continued. “Won’t even look at me unless it’s about work. And even then, it’s like you’re somewhere else. Did I do something to offend you? Hurt you? Just tell me what I did so I can fix it.”

The elevator hummed to life beneath your feet, gliding upward smoothly. You shifted your weight, bracing against the cool metal rail, eyes stubbornly fixed on the buttons, anywhere but his maddeningly perfect face.

“You haven’t done anything,” you said quietly, the words tasting sour the second they left your mouth.

“Then why are you doing it now?” he asked, eyes searching yours. “Why won’t you even look at me?”

“Bucky…”

“Please. Just tell me.”

You hesitated. His hand twitched like he meant to reach for your arm, then faltered, falling back to his side. Your grip tightened on the containers, your fingers slick with sweat. “It’s not you,” you murmured. “It’s me… I just…”

He didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.

“Please,” he said again, quieter now. “Tell me the truth.”

And that was what did it. The tremor in his voice. The way his brow creased like he couldn’t stand not knowing. Something broke open inside your chest, raw and unhealed. The dam cracked, split, then gave way completely, and the truth came spilling out before you had the chance to swallow it back down. You were exhausted. Wound tight. Running on fumes and nerves and far too many feelings. You’d tell him, you decided. Then drop off the canapés, quit on the spot, and flee the country if necessary. Stark would write you a killer reference. You’d survive.

“Okay,” you said, breath hitching as a nervous laugh bubbled out, half-bitter, half-resigned. “You want the truth? Fine. You’re going to think I’ve completely lost it.”

He stayed quiet, letting you spiral.

“This is so stupid,” you muttered. “I like you, Bucky. There. I said it. I like you. And it was fine—manageable—until it wasn’t. Until I started imagining things. Thinking maybe… maybe you liked me too.”

His eyebrows lifted, surprised but unreadable.

“I’ve had this massive, embarrassing crush on you since the moment I met you. And I know it’s weird, and probably unprofessional because you’re kinda my boss, but not. Technically, Tony’s my boss, but I basically manage everything around here, and—ugh, I’m rambling.” You squeezed your eyes shut. “I like you. And I’ve been avoiding you because it was getting out of hand. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And it felt wrong. Especially since you’re dating Natasha, which just made everything worse—”

“What?” he interrupted, voice sharp. “I’m not dating Natasha.”

Your eyes snapped open. “That’s what you took from all of that?”

“No, I—wait. You think I’m dating Natasha?”

“Yes!” you burst out, cheeks flaming. “I saw you! At the Sunday market about a month ago with the flowers—”

His brow furrowed. “What flowers?”

“The bouquet you gave her.”

“I didn’t give Natasha flowers.”

You let out a dry, disbelieving laugh. “I saw you. It was that dumb little market Tony makes me go to for those overpriced vegan pastries Pepper loves—”

Bucky stared at you, confused. And then, slowly, understanding clicked into place. His face contorted like he’d just remembered he’d left his stove on.

“Oh my god,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “The flowers. Those weren’t for Natasha. They were for Wanda.”

Your heart stuttered. “What?”

“Vision,” Bucky groaned. “It was their anniversary. He was stuck on the phone trying to get a fancy reservation and begged me to pick them up. Natasha tagged along because she was hunting for jewellery for Maria’s birthday. That’s all it was.”

You blinked at him. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not,” Bucky replied earnestly. “I didn’t know you thought that. I swear, I’m not with Natasha. I never was.”

Your stomach dropped. “Oh god.”

“Hey—”

“No. No-no-no.” You squeezed your eyes shut, wanting to sink straight through the floor. “This is mortifying. I literally thought you were in a secret relationship. I’ve been avoiding you like the plague. I’ve been thinking about moving cities. I googled how hard it is to change your name legally.”

He snorted. “You’re not serious.”

You opened your eyes, and the horror must have been plain on your face because Bucky’s expression melted into something far too amused. “Oh, you are.”

“I might never recover from this,” you mumbled.

“Hey, c’mon. It’s not that bad.”

“I confessed my undying crush and accused you of being in love with someone else in the span of like, sixty seconds.”

His mouth twitched, lips threatening a smile. “You’re kind of adorable when you’re spiralling.”

“I’m going to chuck these hors d'oeuvres at your head.”

As if mocking your attempt at dignity, the elevator gave a slight mechanical whirr, nearly at the top floor. The distant hum of the party pulsed just beyond those sleek doors.

You straightened suddenly, panic creeping into your chest. “Okay, I’m going to deliver these and then I’m leaving. Possibly forever. Please never speak to me again.”

But Bucky, ever faster than you, stepped in.

And before you could react, he pressed the emergency stop button.

The elevator jolted to a halt. The tower of overpriced hors d'oeuvres wobbled dangerously in your arms. “Oh my god,” you gasped, teetering.

Bucky was already moving, steady hands catching the top box before it could topple, plucking the rest from your shaking grasp. He crouched to stack them on the floor carefully, then rose slowly, smirking as you stood frozen, mouth agape in pure horrified disbelief.

“Bucky, what the hell are you doing?”

“No more running,” he said simply, as if that explained everything.

You could barely breathe. “You stopped the elevator?”

“Didn’t want to risk the doors opening and you disappearing into the night,” he said, a little too pleased with himself.

“I hate you,” you whispered, eyes wide.

He leaned in, just close enough for you to feel his breath. “No, you don’t.”

You were going to die right here in a metal box. With your dignity in ruins and the man of your dumb, desperate daydreams giving you that look.

And somehow, somehow, you didn’t even want to stop him.

“I’m serious,” he said, stepping closer. “Don’t shut down. Please.”

You glanced up at him, finally meeting his eyes and immediately wished you hadn’t. They were dark. Hungry. That gaze alone could melt you to the floor.

He stepped closer again. And again. Until his frame caged in you, his arms braced on either side of your head, the heat of his body swallowing you whole.

“I like you too,” he said, low, rough, like it was pulled from deep inside. “Christ, I was so blind. I didn’t see it. It didn’t click until that day at the tailor, until I saw you in this damn dress.”

Your breath hitched.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he murmured. “I’ve been looking for excuses just to be near you. I keep the notes you leave me with the stupid little drawings. I like looking at them. Thinking about you.”

Your heart felt like it might crack your ribs.

“I smelled every shampoo at the store one day,” he confessed, almost sheepish, almost proud. “Hoped I’d find the one you use. Because you smell so fucking good. It’s been driving me crazy.”

“Bucky…”

“I don’t know. You make me feel special. Seen. Like I’m not some monster, like I’m normal. And then one day you were just… gone. I didn’t realise all the little things you did for me that I never noticed.” He groaned, somehow pressing closer. “I missed the sound of your voice… and it made it hurt even more… I lie awake at night, every night, thinking about you and how much I want to kiss you—”

“Bucky.” You interrupted, and he looked back at you with a barely contained hunger. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”

And then his mouth was on yours.

Hot. Messy. Desperate.

You gasped into it, and he swallowed it whole, groaning as he pressed harder, deeper, hands sliding down to your thighs as he grabbed one and hitched it up around his waist. You clung to his shoulders, lips parted as he slotted himself between your legs, guiding you up until your ass was perched on the elevator’s handrail bar.

“Fuck,” he breathed against your mouth. “Tell me that you want this, tell me that you want me.”

Your head fell back against the wall, lips swollen, breath shaking. His mouth travelled to your jaw, your throat, hands digging into your hips.

It was dizzying. Chaotic. Perfect.

“I want you, Bucky.” You panted.

“Fuck,” Bucky muttered again, but this time it was different, lower. Hungrier.

His hand slid along your thigh, fingertips brushing beneath the hem of your dress. You panted as he kissed across your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin. His hands settled on your knees, then slowly, deliberately, he spread them apart.

“Bucky—” your voice was barely more than a whisper, a tremble of anticipation and disbelief.

But he didn’t answer. He dropped to his knees.

Right there. In the goddamn elevator.

You almost came on the spot at the sight, lips swollen and slick with saliva, pupils blown, the slight smudge of your lipstick on his chin. His hands slid up the back of your calves, kneading into the flesh like he was savouring the shape of you. Your dress inched upwards, his mouth suddenly pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee.

Your breath hitched. Your hands shot to the railing behind you, clutching tight.

“You have no idea,” he said, voice wrecked with want, “how long I’ve thought about this.”

His eyes flicked up to yours, dark with something dangerous. Devotion, desire, something molten and drowning. Then his mouth moved higher.

Another kiss. Inner thigh this time. Then another, and another, slow, lingering, like he was memorising you. He disappeared until the fabric of your skirt, only the back of his head, dark locks messy peaking out from between the slit.

You moaned, soft and involuntary, your hips twitching at the heat of his breath through the thin fabric of your panties. He nuzzled in close, his nose brushing against you, and his hands pressed firmly to your thighs to keep you spread.

“I’ve thought about how you’d taste,” he muttered, lips grazing the soaked lace. “How you’d sound.”

You whimpered.

And then, he peeled your panties to the side.

The groan that tore from him was obscene.

“Jesus,” he hissed, voice muffled. “You’re fucking perfect.”

And then, his mouth was on you.

Hot. Wet. Relentless. You cried out, one hand flying to his hair, tangling in it as his tongue licked into you with precision, with hunger, with something close to worship. He devoured you like he was starving. Slow circles, then quick flicks, his mouth dragging across your clit with maddening rhythm. You writhed against the rail, your leg still wrapped around his shoulder, the other trembling against the elevator wall.

“Oh my god—Bucky—fuck—”

Your words slurred together, breath coming in ragged gasps as he groaned into you, the vibration shooting straight through your core. One of his arms snaked around your thigh, pinning you in place, as if he thought you might try to escape. As if he’d let you.

His tongue slid down, dipping into you, then back up, his mouth latching onto your clit with a filthy, wet sound that made your spine arch. You were unravelling, fast, dizzy, overwhelmed.

He pulled back just enough to pant. “I could stay here all night.”

His mouth was merciless. His grip was unrelenting on your thighs, mouth working you over like a man possessed—

Bzzzzt.

A shrill, sudden buzz sounded from the elevator’s emergency panel, followed by a crackling voice.

“Hello? This is Tower Maintenance. We’re registering an emergency stop on lift three. Is there an issue?”

You froze. Every muscle in your body went rigid, as if someone had cracked open your spine and poured ice water down it. Dread spread like frost through your veins. Your heart thudded painfully in your throat, threatening to climb up and out entirely.

You could barely breathe. Could barely think.

This was it. This was how you died—legs spread, Bucky between them, and Tower Maintenance on the fucking line.

Bucky, in sharp contrast, did not freeze.

He groaned softly with wicked glee, his mouth still very much between your legs. The sound vibrated against the most sinful part of you, and then he doubled down. Mouth and hands working with infuriating, diabolical precision, like he’d just taken the intercom as a challenge.

You clamped a hand over your mouth, the other shaking as you reached blindly for the emergency call button, trying not to sound like you were seconds away from being ruined.

Your voice came out like a panicked squeak. “Hi! Uh—h-hi, yes, sorry! Must’ve been a—a small electrical fault. I’m fine! Everything’s… fine!”

Bucky nipped at your thigh in response.

There was a pause. You could feel the suspicion through the line.

“Ma’am, we’re not showing any electrical inconsistencies in that shaft. Did you press the stop button?”

You shot a wide-eyed glare down at the man currently devouring you.

Another wave of pleasure threatened to knock the air from your lungs. You were barely holding it together, every nerve ending aflame, skin flushed, thighs shaking. The cool metal of the elevator wall against your spine did little to ground you.

You cleared your throat, struggling to piece together something—anything—resembling human speech. “Oh. Oh, that—um, I must’ve bumped it. With my elbow. While holding a tray. It’s, uh—crowded. In here.”

Bucky chose that exact moment to suck hard, and you slapped your hand over your mouth to muffle the helpless sound that nearly escaped.

A longer pause. You could practically hear them frowning.

“…Right. Well, we’re releasing the stop now. Please remain calm.”

The line disconnected.

The elevator jolted slightly as it roared back to life.

Bucky gave a dark chuckle. “Crowded, huh?” Then—with zero mercy—he sped up.

“Bucky,” you gasped, head falling back against the wall, “I’m—I’m gonna—”

You shattered.

It hit hard, hot and blinding. You cried out, thighs clamping tight around his head as he groaned against you, mouth not stopping for a second, drawing it out, milking every twitch, every whimper. You barely had time to breathe, let alone moan, your hands flying to steady yourself just as the elevator dinged cheerily and the doors slid open.

Right into the penthouse. Packed full of people, who by some miracle, were utterly oblivious to your predicament.

You staggered slightly as Bucky stood smoothly, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, one arm slipping around your waist to steady you while the other casually reached down and grabbed the stack of forgotten canapés off the floor like he hadn’t just—

“Evening,” he greeted a passing staff member, utterly unbothered.

You were glowing crimson, pupils blown, lips parted, trying hard to fix your face. Bucky guided you forward, his hand warm on your back, keeping you between him and the crowd as your legs trembled. You barely managed to set the tray on the nearest table before someone whistled.

“Well, damn,” came Sam’s voice from the drinks bar. He gave you both a once-over, a wicked grin spreading. “Buck, next time you’re gonna eat face in the elevator, maybe wipe the lipstick off your chin first.”

Bucky only smirked and licked his bottom lip slow, on purpose, you were sure of it.

You nearly combusted on the spot.

“Bathroom?” he murmured into your ear, low and gravelly.

You nodded quickly and wordlessly.

He guided you with all the smugness of a man who had no regrets, his hand just a little too low on your back to be innocent.

---

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euno11a · 2 months ago

Note

HII I LOVE UR "kiss-proof test" with the saja boys😍

Could you pls make where the reader is like pranking the boys by wearing a very revealing outfit and plans to go out, so the boys reaction is like "HUH you? Wearing that? OUTSIDE? HELL NO" or something like that

i will leave the rest to you if you want to do it differently😁 I JUST WANT JELOUS OVERPROTECTIVE SAJA BOYS🥰🙏🏻 have a great morning,afternoon,night🫶🏻

Wearing a revealing outfit w/ Saja Boys

Jinu

You had spent hours planning the perfect prank. And what better way to mess with Jinu than by pushing him right to his limit? He was always so cool, so collected, like nothing could faze him. It was time to see if you could finally get a rise out of him.

You slipped into the outfit—a little more daring than usual, revealing enough to catch attention but still classy. It wasn’t outrageous, but you knew it’d be enough to rattle him. You checked yourself out in the mirror, making sure everything was perfect, and then took a deep breath.

You weren’t sure what you expected, but Jinu’s reaction was definitely going to be entertaining.

You walked out into the living room, doing your best to strut without looking like you were trying too hard. Jinu was sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone, completely oblivious. That was, until you stepped into his line of sight.

The moment he saw you, his phone slipped from his hands and fell to the floor with a loud thud. His eyes went wide, his usual smirk faltering for the first time in ages as he took you in—head to toe. His mouth opened slightly, then snapped shut, like he was trying to put together a sentence but couldn’t quite manage it.

You crossed your arms, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. “Well? What do you think?”

Jinu stood up almost too quickly, his eyes still fixed on you, his hand twitching like he wasn’t sure whether to reach for you or run away. He rubbed his face, taking in a deep breath before finally speaking. “What are you wearing? You’re seriously gonna walk around in that?”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “What’s wrong? You don’t think I look good?”

Jinu’s lips twitched, but it wasn’t his usual cocky grin. This was different. His gaze darkened slightly, his posture straightening as if he were preparing for something big. “Look, I’m gonna be honest with you: I know you look good. That’s the problem.” He glanced around, like he was trying to figure out how to handle this. “You’re gonna turn heads, and not in the ‘wow, they look amazing’ way. You’re gonna get attention—and not the kind that’s good for you.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused at how rattled he was. “So what? You’re telling me I shouldn’t look this good? Is that it?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying.” Jinu’s voice was suddenly more serious, and you could tell he was getting a little agitated. “I’m saying that if you walk outside like that, people are gonna look at you the wrong way. I can’t let that happen. You’re—” He stopped, running a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated. “You’re mine to protect, okay? I’m the one who’s supposed to make sure nothing goes sideways. You don’t need people gawking at you like you’re some... I don’t know, movie star or whatever.”

You smirked, feeling the heat of his words. This wasn’t the reaction you were expecting—but it was definitely more fun than you anticipated. “Oh? So now you’re the big protector? Just because I want to step outside looking a little... fabulous?”

Jinu paced a little, his eyes not leaving you. “It’s not about you looking good—god, you always look good.” His voice dropped slightly, almost too soft for you to hear, and then he shook it off like it didn’t matter. “It’s about people’s eyes on you. People who don’t know you. People who could get the wrong idea and say things, do things. And I’m not about to let anyone make you feel uncomfortable. Especially not today.”

You could see it now—Jinu’s usual cool demeanor was cracking, replaced by a fierce protectiveness you hadn’t expected. And you had to admit, it was kind of adorable.

“You’re not letting me go out, huh?” you teased, stepping a little closer, watching him like a hawk. “You’re seriously telling me I can’t leave the house?”

His eyes locked onto yours, the usual cockiness in his smirk replaced by something more intense. “I’m not telling you you can’t—I’m telling you I’m not letting you.” He pointed at you as if you were some kind of unruly child. “Not like this. No way.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how seriously he was taking this. “Wow, you’re really overreacting, huh? It’s just an outfit, Jinu. No one’s gonna die.”

“Don’t say that,” he snapped. “I can’t... I can’t handle the thought of you getting hurt or—” He paused, and for a second, his confidence wavered. His face flushed, like he realized how over-the-top he was being. “You’re just... you’re too important to me. I don’t want anyone treating you like some... object they can stare at.”

You stepped forward, your grin softening as you took in his words. It was clear now: This wasn’t just about his usual cocky bravado. Jinu genuinely cared about you—and that made the whole prank feel a little less fun.

“I didn’t think you’d be this protective,” you said, voice low and teasing. “I thought you’d just make fun of me and move on.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t look away from you. “Of course I’d make fun of you. But don’t act like I’m not watching your back. You’re my responsibility, you know? If I let you go out in this, I’d never forgive myself.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “You’re really something else, Jinu.”

He puffed out his chest, regaining his usual confidence. “I know. I’m just that good.”

You paused for a moment, feeling the shift between you two. “You’re right,” you said after a beat. “I guess I’ll change… for now.”

Jinu’s eyes narrowed, like he was waiting for you to try something. But then, his expression softened just a little. “Good choice. I’ll let you keep your dignity for today.” He winked, the cocky smirk back in full force. “But next time, maybe save the pranks for someone else, yeah?”

You chuckled and walked back toward the bedroom, but before you could get too far, Jinu called after you, his tone softer than usual.

“And seriously... you do look amazing. But I’m not letting anyone hurt you, no matter what you wear.”

You smiled to yourself as you entered your room. Maybe Jinu was a little over-the-top sometimes, but that was what made him so special.

Abs

You had to admit, the moment you decided to prank Abs, you had no idea what you were getting into. His cocky smirk, his over-the-top swagger—there was no way you could just walk into the room in something ordinary and expect him not to have something snarky to say.

But today, you were determined. You needed to break through that unshakeable coolness of his, show him that he wasn’t always in control.

You picked out the outfit—the one that you knew would rattle him. Bold, revealing, and definitely a little out there. You stood in front of the mirror for a moment, grinning to yourself as you imagined Abs’ face when he saw you. This was going to be fun.

You strutted into the living room where ABS was lounging, his legs kicked up on the couch like he owned the place, casually scrolling through his phone. He barely looked up at first, too engrossed in whatever nonsense he was reading, but when he finally did, his eyes widened and then narrowed as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

ABS slowly set his phone down, his fingers tapping on the armrest as he studied you—eyes scanning, lips curling into that signature cocky grin. “Huh. So this is what you’ve been planning, huh? Thought you’d show up looking like a million bucks, huh?”

You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, letting him take it all in. “What’s the matter, Abs? You don’t think I can pull it off?”

He chuckled, the sound low and almost dangerous. “Pull it off? Honey, I’m more worried about how you’re gonna keep it on.” His smirk deepened. “You’re definitely gonna need more than that to stop the entire world from staring at you.”

You raised an eyebrow, unfazed by his usual swagger. “Oh, so I’m that irresistible, huh?”

He stood up from the couch in one fluid motion, walking toward you with a confident swagger that you couldn’t help but admire. “Look, you know how I am. I’m always the one turning heads. But you, walking around in that? Everyone in a five-mile radius is gonna be talking about you. It’s gonna be chaos. You want that kind of attention?”

You took a step closer, not backing down an inch. “What’s the matter, Abs? You jealous of a little competition?”

His eyes flashed for a moment, and his grin faltered just slightly before he leaned in, his gaze sharp. “Jealous? Me?” He scoffed, stepping back and running a hand through his hair. “Nah. Never.” He eyed you up and down again, the teasing grin back in full force. “But, come on. You’re seriously about to walk outside like that? I’m telling you right now, you’ll never be able to handle the kind of attention you’re about to get. People won’t even know how to act.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “So what? You think I’m too much for the world to handle?”

“Oh, it’s not the world I’m worried about,” Abs shot back, crossing his arms and giving you a once-over. “It’s you.” He leaned against the wall, his gaze never leaving you. “You can’t just walk around wearing... this and expect to go unnoticed. Not that I don’t think you can handle the attention. It’s just...” He paused, clearly trying to put his thoughts together. “It’s not just attention, okay? People can be dumb. They can be... creepy. And I’m not about to let anyone get any ideas. You get me?”

You stared at him for a moment, surprised by how serious he was. This wasn’t just about his usual cocky self. This was Abs, the guy who always thought he had everything under control, actually looking a little... protective?

“Aw, look at you,” you teased, a playful grin creeping onto your face. “Are you worried about me?”

Abs rolled his eyes, but there was a slight tension in his jaw. “Worried? Pfft.” He flicked his wrist like it was nothing. “I’m not worried. I just don’t like the idea of people thinking they can mess with you. I’m the only one who gets to mess with you.”

You took a step closer, leaning in just enough to make him shift a little. “So, what’s your plan? You gonna stop me from going out? You gonna take me by the hand and drag me away?”

His lips parted for a second, like he didn’t quite know how to respond. Then he gave you that trademark smirk, though it was tinged with something else now—a little softer, a little more serious. “I’ll definitely stop you if I have to. You think I’m gonna let you out there and let the whole city stare at you like you’re some... object?”

You chuckled, watching as Abs tried to act like the situation wasn’t bothering him, even though you could tell it was. “Is that what you think? You really think I’m some... object?”

He immediately dropped his confident act, his eyes softening. “No, I didn’t mean it like that,” he quickly said, and for the first time, you saw a hint of hesitation in his expression. “I just mean... people can be gross. I don’t want them looking at you like that, okay?”

You blinked, taken aback by how genuine his words were. Abs, the cocky troublemaker, was actually protecting you. And you couldn’t deny it felt nice.

“Aww, Abs.” You shook your head with a grin. “Look at you. All protective and cute.”

His face immediately turned red, and he quickly turned his head away, trying to recover. “Cute? Don’t call me that.” He crossed his arms again, but this time, it wasn’t with his usual swagger. It was almost like he was trying to convince himself that he wasn’t being soft.

“I’m not changing just because you say so,” you teased, stepping back toward the door. “But maybe... maybe I’ll think about it.”

Abs glared at you, his eyes dark, but there was a playful gleam to them now. “You better think about it, because if you don’t, I swear I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” You challenged, turning back to face him with a grin. “What are you gonna do? Keep me locked in the house?”

He opened his mouth to say something, but the words didn’t come out. Instead, he took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure. “If I have to. You don’t want to test me on this, trust me.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Abs rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the hint of a smile from tugging at his lips. “Yeah, yeah. Just remember, I’m the one who’s always got your back.” He paused for a moment, and when you didn’t respond, he added, “So... you’ll change, right?”

You gave him a wink. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“You better,” Abs said, his usual cockiness back in full swing. “Because I’m not letting anyone mess with you. And if anyone even thinks about it, they’ll be dealing with me first.”

You smiled to yourself as you walked away. Maybe he was a little over-the-top sometimes, but it felt good to know that Abs really did care.

Mystery

You knew exactly what you were doing when you picked out the outfit. It wasn’t something outrageous, but it was a little more daring than usual—just enough to catch someone’s eye. And who better to test it on than Mystery? He was always so calm, so composed. You’d often wonder if he ever cared about anything outside of his usual cool detachment.

Today, though, you had the perfect opportunity to see if you could get even the smallest reaction out of him.

You walked into the living room, feeling that usual confidence when you were in something that made you feel good. You leaned against the doorframe, watching him as he sat on the couch, reading a book. He barely looked up, his eyes skimming the page like nothing could distract him.

“Hey, Mystery,” you said, trying to sound casual but knowing you were about to break the silence. “What do you think?”

He didn’t immediately respond, and you almost thought you had failed to grab his attention. But then, he slowly glanced up over the edge of his book, his eyes briefly scanning your outfit before flicking back to the pages.

“Hm,” he murmured, his voice low and calm, but you couldn’t help but notice a subtle change in his posture. “It’s... bold.”

You raised an eyebrow, a little taken aback. “Bold? That’s it?”

He closed the book with a soft thud, his eyes still fixed on you, but now with a hint of something you couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was concern. Maybe it was something else. Whatever it was, it made your stomach flutter a little.

“You’re going out in that?” he asked, his tone still even, but there was something different about it. Like he was silently weighing the situation.

You smirked, walking a little closer, enjoying the fact that you were managing to shake him from his usual calm. “What? You don’t think I can handle it?”

He didn’t reply right away. Instead, he stood up slowly, his gaze lingering on you just a little longer than usual. His eyes weren’t cold, but there was something guarded in them, like he was trying to figure out how to handle you in this outfit.

“I didn’t say that.” He spoke slowly, his voice steady but firm. “It’s just... You don’t need to attract unnecessary attention, that’s all.”

You frowned slightly, not expecting that response. “Unnecessary attention? What do you mean by that?”

Mystery paused for a second, and you could see his mind working. He was choosing his words carefully, his usual calm exterior intact. “People can be... unpredictable. You never know who’s paying attention or what they’ll think. I’m just saying that you shouldn’t put yourself in a position where you might feel uncomfortable later.”

It wasn’t what you had expected, but it was clear now that he wasn’t as indifferent as he sometimes came across. Mystery was more protective than you’d realized, even if he didn’t always show it in the typical way.

You tilted your head, trying to read him. “Are you worried about me?”

He didn’t immediately respond, but there was a slight change in the way he stood, his gaze flicking away from yours for a brief moment, almost as if he was trying to mask something. His voice remained steady, but you could hear the faintest trace of something behind it—concern, maybe, or just a quiet care. “I’m not worried. I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

You blinked, a little taken aback. That wasn’t what you had expected to hear. Mystery wasn’t exactly the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, but right now, he was doing something close to it.

“I’m fine,” you said softly, trying to ease whatever concern you’d stirred up. “I can handle myself.”

Mystery’s eyes softened just slightly, though he quickly tried to maintain his usual reserved demeanor. “I know you can. But... that doesn’t mean I want to see you in a situation where you might regret your choices.” His eyes shifted over you again, as if he were reassessing everything. “I just... care about you.”

The words came out quieter this time, almost like he wasn’t used to expressing that kind of sentiment. And just like that, the calm, cool Mystery you’d come to know had revealed something deeper—something that was still, as always, understated but unmistakably there.

You stepped closer, your voice teasing but your eyes soft. “Mystery, you’re really something, you know that?”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as if he were slightly embarrassed. “I don’t say these things often.”

“Clearly,” you quipped, giving him a knowing smile. “But I think it’s sweet.”

He didn’t look at you directly, but his lips quirked up just enough to show you that he appreciated the compliment. “I just don’t want you to be in a situation where you feel... uncomfortable. You’re not like everyone else. You deserve to be treated with respect.”

Your heart gave a little flutter at his words. For all his quiet nature, for all the times people assumed he didn’t care, here he was, quietly standing up for you in the most gentle way possible.

“I’ll be fine, Mystery,” you reassured him. “And... thank you. Really.”

He nodded, his gaze steady as always, but this time with a slight warmth you couldn’t miss. “Just... be careful. I’m not always around to watch out for you.”

You chuckled, feeling that soft, protective energy from him seep through. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

With that, he gave you one last lingering look, his usual composed self taking over again. “Good. Now... I’m going to pretend I didn’t have this conversation, alright?”

You smiled, knowing he was more than just the quiet, cold guy people assumed he was. He was calm, cool, and quiet, but beneath it all was someone who truly cared. “Alright, Mystery. But you know you’ve got my back.”

He gave you a subtle nod, his expression unreadable again, but the way his eyes met yours was enough to say everything that words couldn’t.

Romance

You had known Romance long enough to recognize his style. Smooth talker, charming as hell, always with that smirk that made you wonder if he was always flirting or if it was just his natural state of being. But today? Today was different. Today, you were about to push his buttons in the most playful way possible.

You slipped into the outfit—a little revealing, a little bold, but not too over-the-top. You wanted to catch him off guard, test his reaction. He was always so confident in his skin, so self-assured. But you wondered... just how would he react if you dared to wear something a little more eye-catching than usual?

You walked into the living room, giving him just enough time to get a good look. Romance was lounging on the couch, his usual relaxed posture, one arm draped over the back of the chair, a lazy grin playing on his lips as he scrolled through his phone.

“Hey, Romance,” you called out casually, leaning against the doorframe. You could practically feel the mischievous energy crackling in the air.

He glanced up, eyes flicking over your form. The usual confident smile slid off his face for just a moment before quickly reappearing. His lips quirked into a smirk, and his eyes took their sweet time appreciating the view. “Well, well, well... Look at you, all dressed up. Trying to kill me with that look, are we?” His voice was a smooth purr, a teasing glint dancing in his eyes.

You gave a dramatic sigh, crossing your arms. “What? You think I look that good?”

Romance leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes gliding over you as if you were the only thing in the room. “Baby, you look like you just stepped out of one of those romantic comedies. Damn, you’re stunning.” He grinned, but his eyes narrowed slightly, the teasing light in them flickering for just a moment. “But I gotta ask, where do you think you're going in that?”

You smiled, enjoying the playful banter. “What? You think it’s too much? I’m just gonna step out for a bit. What's the big deal?”

He straightened up, his posture shifting ever so slightly. His usual carefree attitude was still there, but now there was a faint undercurrent of seriousness in his tone. “The big deal, darling, is that you’re gonna have everyone in the city watching you like you’re the star of the show.” He leaned back, still studying you with that half-smirk. “And I’m not sure I’m cool with that. You’re my responsibility, you know?”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing the room to stand just a little closer to him. “Oh? Your responsibility? Are we going down that road now?”

Romance’s grin never wavered, but there was a shift in the way he was looking at you. He was playful, but there was also something deeper in his gaze now—a little more possessiveness, maybe. “Oh, I’m always down that road,” he replied smoothly, his hand brushing through his hair with a small chuckle. “See, you may think you can just waltz out there, turn heads, and make everyone fall at your feet. But I know you. And I know what happens when you catch people’s attention... They forget how to be decent.” He let the words hang in the air, his tone light but there was a subtle tension behind it.

You could see he was trying to keep it casual, trying to make it sound like just another one of his flirtations. But the way he spoke told you he wasn’t exactly happy with the idea of you being out there—alone.

“So, you’re saying you want to keep me locked up in here?” you teased, a grin tugging at your lips. “You think I can’t handle a little attention?”

Romance laughed, standing up now and taking a step closer. “Oh, no, baby. I know you can handle it,” he said, voice dropping to a more serious tone for just a beat. “You’ve got that kind of power. But I’m not letting anyone else mess with you. That’s where I draw the line.”

You were caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. Normally, Romance was all fun and games, a tease in every sense of the word, but right now? Right now, you could feel the protective side of him pushing through.

“You care that much?” you asked, your voice quieter now, almost amused by the contrast in his usual playful demeanor.

He rolled his shoulders back, trying to play it cool again. “I don’t care about you walking around looking like a goddess or whatever. But what I do care about is people thinking they can get close to you. You deserve the best, and that’s not gonna come from some random stranger who thinks you’re just an object to stare at.”

You stared at him for a moment, the cocky smirk on his face not quite reaching his eyes. There was something more to him than the usual flirty comments and confident swagger. “Wow, Romance. I didn’t know you could be so... serious.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes in that way that made it clear he was uncomfortable with the compliment. “Yeah, well, I’m not always here for the spotlight, but when it comes to you... Yeah, I’m gonna be protective.” His voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the seriousness behind it. “I’m not about to let some jerk look at you like that. You’re worth so much more than a second glance from some random fool.”

You couldn’t help but smile a little, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. “I’m not exactly helpless, you know. I can handle myself.”

Romance’s eyes softened for a moment, his usual playful glint replaced by something more genuine. “I know you can. But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna sit by and watch someone treat you like you’re just... there.” His hand reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering for a second longer than usual. “I’ve got you. Always.”

You met his gaze, your smile softer now. “I appreciate that, Romance. Really.”

He shrugged, a grin creeping back onto his lips. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get all sappy on me. I’m still the best thing that’s ever happened to you.” He winked, trying to recover his usual cocky tone.

But you could see it. Underneath all the charm, the flirty lines, and the jokes—he cared. Deeply. And that was more than enough to make you feel safe.

“I guess I’ll stay in, just for you,” you said, laughing softly.

Romance pulled you closer with that mischievous grin, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “Good. Now you’re thinking like I do. And don’t think I didn’t notice how great you look. But I’m still not letting you out of my sight.”

“Fine,” you laughed, “but only because you’re so charming.”

He chuckled, his playful grin back in full force. “Damn right I am.”

Baby

You knew Baby was that guy. The one who strutted around like he had all the answers, acting so laid-back, like nothing in the world could faze him. The perfect picture of "cool," or at least, that’s what he wanted everyone to believe.

But you knew better. You knew he was just a big softie who was probably way more affected by things than he let on.

So, today? Today, you were going to push his limits and see just how far you could get him to break that cool, aloof act. The outfit you chose was bold—revealing but not overly crazy—just the right amount to make anyone do a double-take. You were curious if Baby would keep his effortless "cool" vibe, or if you could finally crack him and reveal the sunshine hiding underneath.

You walked into the living room where Baby was lounging on the couch, acting like he was the least interested person in the world. He glanced up, his eyes barely leaving his phone screen as if you were just another part of the background.

But the moment his eyes landed on you, the phone slowly lowered, and the usual carefree, aloof attitude seemed to flicker, just for a second. His eyebrows shot up, and he blinked, as though he wasn’t quite sure if he was seeing things correctly.

“Uh...” he began, his usual cool tone slipping for just a second, “…what’s this now?” His gaze stayed on you, that classic cocky smile of his forming, though you could tell he was more than a little thrown off. "You’re, uh, wearing that? Seriously?"

You couldn’t resist a grin as you posed, leaning casually against the doorway. “What, you don’t think I can pull it off?”

Baby leaned back in the couch, arms behind his head as he tried to play it cool. "Nah, it’s not that… It’s just…” His voice trailed off for a second as he looked at you, his jaw tightening just a bit. "It’s a little extra, don’t you think?"

You smirked and stepped closer, watching him squirm just a little. "Extra? What, you think it’s too much?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to act like he wasn’t entirely fazed, but you saw through it. You knew him too well. “Nah, nah. I mean... you look good and all. But, like… people are gonna notice, y’know?”

You raised an eyebrow, now standing in front of him, watching as his usual “cool guy” act cracked ever so slightly. “And what? You don’t want people noticing me?” you teased, crossing your arms.

He immediately shot up from the couch, eyes wide, trying to play it off like he was just "concerned" about the situation. "No! I didn’t—" He ran a hand through his hair, clearly trying to recover from the slip-up. "I just... You’re not... you’re not gonna go out like that, right?"

You leaned forward, clearly enjoying the fact that you were getting under his skin. "Why? You think it’s too much attention?"

His gaze darted around, like he was looking for something to latch onto so he didn’t have to keep staring at you. "I’m just saying… it’s a lot for people to take in, okay?" He seemed to be struggling to keep that nonchalant tone. "I don’t know, I mean, you can handle it, but—" He trailed off, clearly not finishing the thought.

You smiled, taking another step closer. "But what?"

Baby swallowed hard, still trying to act like this was no big deal. "It’s not like I’m, y’know, worried or anything," he said, trying to force a laugh. "It’s just… I mean, I’m not stupid. People get weird about stuff like that." He bit his lip, his eyes flicking to the side before locking back on yours. "And I’m not about to let people... treat you like that."

There it was. You’d cracked the tough shell. Underneath the cool, aloof persona was a guy who cared. Baby, the one who tried to act like nothing fazed him, was visibly bothered by the idea of anyone messing with you.

You stood still, feeling a warmth spreading through you at his unspoken protectiveness. “So, what? You gonna stop me from going out?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

Baby froze, his face going pink as he fumbled for words. “I-I didn’t say that,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck again. “I just... I just think you should be careful, that’s all.”

You smiled softly, not pushing him any further, but letting the quiet moment linger for a second. "I get it, Baby. But I’ll be fine. You know I can handle myself."

He sighed, clearly a little relieved, but that easy-going smile never quite reached his eyes the way it usually did. "Yeah, I know you can," he mumbled, almost to himself, before glancing away like he was trying to shake off his own feelings. "But it doesn’t hurt to have someone look out for you... y’know?"

You took a step closer and gave him a teasing wink. "You’re sweet, you know that?"

His face turned an even darker shade of pink, and he immediately crossed his arms to hide the awkwardness creeping up his neck. “Shut up, okay? I’m just—just saying—people are gonna stare, and I don’t want to see anyone acting all weird around you, alright?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, enjoying the way he was so adamant about protecting you, even though he was clearly trying to act like he was still too cool for this kind of conversation.

“Alright, Baby,” you teased, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. “I’ll keep that in mind. And I promise, I’ll be careful.”

He nodded vigorously, his face still flushed as he looked away, clearly embarrassed now. “Good. That’s all I’m saying. Just... don’t go getting yourself in trouble. People can be idiots.” He threw a casual wink your way, but it was clear he wasn’t quite as relaxed as he normally was. “I’ve got your back, okay?”

You smiled, knowing he was asking as much for himself as he was for you. "Of course," you said, giving him a soft grin. "You always do."

And just like that, Baby’s cool, aloof act had completely dissolved in front of you, leaving only the big-hearted sunshine beneath it all. He was still trying to act all “too cool,” but there was no denying that he cared. Maybe a little too much.

————————————

a/n: I have a list going right now for all the requests I have about the Saja Boys, so expect more later on today (hopefully)!!

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emmanation · 15 days ago

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shifting cheat sheet how to use your " disadvantages " to shift . .　

　i always fall asleep when i do methods ❜

okay??? then congrats. start affirming sleep is how i shift, or every night i fall asleep in my cr and open my eyes in my dr. your body is doing it for you.

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　i get distracted easily / forget to affirm ❜

then script JUST that. literally. even when i forget, it still works. or. my subconscious does it all for me. or. i don't need to remember for it to be real.

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　i can't visualise well ❜

that doesn't matter at all. assume that not visualising is proof it's already loading. boom. that's your method now.

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　i overthink constantly ❜

perfect!! flood your brain with assumptions instead. overthink in YOUR direction. go ok, but what if i already shifted and just don't know it? what if i'm already there and every time i check it i reinforce it more? control your narrative.

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　i'm lazy and i don't think i can stick to routines ❜

you know what???? incredible. assume you're the kind of person who shifts without routines. like. i don't need structure, i shift when i breathe, i shift automatically, i shift because i exist.

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　i can't stay still, i always move ❜

ooooookkkkk so?? movement is energy. energy is intention. intention is enough. you're literally powering it, assume stuff like . . . when i move, i shift. every step, every twitch, is me being there. shifting is kinetic for me. next.

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　i keep switching methods, never finish them ❜

have you thought that that's just your style??? maybe you're just. method fluid. bravo. you collect techniques and every single one brings you there. every method works for me because i am the constant. your desire is the method alone.

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　my mental health is a mess ❜

no need to be stable. you can just shift through the crash out. maybe the crash out is the catalyst, no? i shift even when i'm sad, even when i cry, my subconscious knows the way.

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　i never script fully / my script is messy ❜

scripts don't have to be perfect. my script doesn't matter, the universe fills in the gaps just the way i need for it to.

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　i keep reality checking by accident ❜

great!!! you just reminded your brain which reality you . . DON'T want. every time you check, say, i reject this, i'm in my other one. redirect yourself, it's you saying not this one, next, please.

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　i feel like i'm faking it ❜

good. faking it = you're building the assumption. every fake convo, every fake kiss, every fake memory is your hardwiring the assumption. actors do it, kids do it, you're doing it. every time i fake it, it just becomes real.

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　what if i'm neurodivergent? ❜

what if you are. cool. nd brains process differently, so assume your difference is your mechanism. i shift because my brain is wired uniquely, my perception already filters reality, shifting is just second nature to me, my brain already does it.

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　what if i have a hard family life? ❜

yeah, okay. then that drives you. use that contrast, shifting is literally emotional momentum. say: i deserve better, so i always shift to better.

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　what if i'm traumatised? ❜

then your brain already knows how to leave. dissociation, imagination, you already built whole worlds to survive. now you're doing it consciously. i shift because i've always escaped, now i just pick where to.

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　i don't believe in it 100% ❜

you don't have to. assumption is simply direction. you can be skeptical and still shift. i shift even when i doubt. doubt is just noise, and shifting is subconscious. and my subconscious doesn't wait for belief.

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　i'm inconsistent ❜

okay and?? the universe isn't, the law most definitely isn't. i don't have to be consistent when assumption is automatic. i shift because of who i am, not what i do.

#reality shifting #shifting #loa tumblr #shifting blog #loassumption #manifesting

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shysuccubusstuff · 8 months ago

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homicipher! men making it fit pt. 1:

Characters: Mr. Crawling + Mr. Scarletta - female reader

Content: non proof-reader; first time males + unexperienced LI + cunnilingus + breeding + unrealistic descriptions + slight obssession + overstimulation.

Note: I hope everyone who has found out about this game a great evening!! I'm so happy that so many people are interested on the game ♡. I'm sorry for those who wish for a neutral reader, I still struggle with it :((. Sorry for taking so long, I'm with uni stuff so this will probably take a while. Let me know if you have suggestions for the next part!! + Sorry if it seems rushed/short I've been letting this marinate for a bit too long...

Mr. Crawling:

Mr. Crawling who has no real idea of what he's doing to you, after all, it was your idea to do this, your hands running down his body as he started to feel something up with him, some strange feeling, like a heat starting to build up.

Mr. Crawling who keeps following your commands, his cold hands trailing down your body before getting rid of your clothes. His fingers tracing your nipples, his slightly warm breath hitting against your ear. His hands then move lower, starting to move towards your underwear, his fingertips tracing your clothed clit. He smiles as soon as he hears your soft moans leave your mouth.

Mr. Crawling who takes his time getting your body ready. He takes as much time as needed, kissing your mouth and using his tongue the way you taught him. At the same time, he uses his hands, one keeps playing with your chest, while the other keeps rubbing against your poor clit, not stopping even as your body was twitching from the overstimulation.

Mr. Crawling who is finally able to get his tip inside of you, his girth making you whine as you try to get used to his size. He keeps you in place, not moving an inch as he kept seeing your brows furrowed, his hands leaving handprints on your skin.

Mr. Crawling who keeps kissing your mouth, his tongue intertwined with yours as he tried to distract you, his cock slowly entering you until he finally bottomed out.

"You good?" Mr. Crawling asked, his hand rubbing against the small bulge that was forming in your tummy. He kept petting your head in slow strokes, almost as if he was trying to keep you as distracted as possible from the feeling.

"Too big, just... give me a moment, please." He nodded, his smiling face looking a bit too happy, for someone that was almost making you go dumb just from his girth.

Mr. Crawling kept you still for a second, just enough for you to finally get a bit more comfortable with him inside. As soon as you nodded to him, allowed him to keep going, his tip was already hitting your poor cervix on a rapid rhythm. Despite your attempts of telling him to slow down, it seemed that your brain was no longer working, perhaps too overwhelmed with the feeling of Mr. Crawling rearranging your insides., so you allowed yourself to be used by him, not caring even as he kept filling your insides once after the other.

By the time you were able to form a sentence, your legs were completely covered with marks, not only fingerprints, but also Mr. Crawling's hickeys, almost as if he was some kind of dog leaving his mark all over you...

Well, he was definitely able to make it fit, I suppose.

Mr. Scarletella:

Mr. Scarletella who almost explodes the second you let him approach you.

Mr. Scarletella who is able to (slowly) make you his, always making his way, even if it took him quite some time.

Mr. Scarletellawho is completely blissed the moment you allow him to become your one and only partner.

Mr. Scarletella who becomes more and more possessive as time goes on.

Mr. Scarletella who decides to try some of the ways he has seen other humans get "close".

Before you realised, he was already cornering you against the cold wall, his frame towering over you.

"Want take?" He is smiling, his hand signaling himself.

"What do you mean?... You want me to take you?" You look at him confused, but he simply answers with an energetic nod. Despite your confussion, you smile at him, not really sure about what he means, but you're sure it won't be dangerous... right?

Suddenly, he moves one of his hands towards his pants, unbuttoning them and lowering them just enough to let his member out, the size almost making you shiver in fear.

"I... I don't think that would fit, how about we leave it for some other time, yeah? Just---" Your words are stopped by his lips crashing against yours, as his hands gripped your hips, easily lifting you up in the air.

"Me want you. Know way to make you mine." He smiled again, although this time it had a slightly creepy undertone.

"I don't think you even know what this is supposed to be--- Fuck where did you even learn about this type of stuff?" You try to get him to put you down, but your attempts have no result, in fact, it's almost as if he tried arder, maybe because of his desperation of feeling truly close to you.

"Need you. Humans taught me, I saw them. Let me do it." His begging eyes end up convincing you, letting your body relax on his grasp and allowing him to start to rub the tip against you.

"Wait! You can't just shove it inside, you need to prepare... the place." He looks confused at you, which somehow makes you feel even more embarrassed. "You can, well, shove your fingers, some people prefer to use the tongue... There's stuff for that but I doubt we have that kind of thing here, you know? So we can just stick to--" Your sentence is once again shortened, as your position is suddenly changed, your legs now resting on his shoulders as he starts to use his tongue to pleasure you, not allowing you to escape from his grip.

"Good, so good. Love you." His words left him even as he kept using his tongue to prepare you, his tongue lapping on your fluids while his hands tried to keep you in place. As he started getting the hang of it, he gently introduced his fingers inside you, his mouth sucking on your clit as he made his way into you, your head starting to spin as the overstimulation became too much.

Mr. Scarletella kept going until you came a few time, devouring the fluids that you kept leaking. Then, he allowed you to rest for a few seconds, letting you breath as he hugged you, keeping you tightly wrapped around his hips. When he saw that your breathing was once again stable, he started to align his dick to your entrance, inserting little by little until he was finally able to thrust as much as you were able to handle due to your small size in contrast with him.

"Good, not afraid?" He petted you, using only one arm to keep you lifted as he started to move himself inside you, just enough to get you panting and bitting on his shoulder. "Too big? You can handle it." He (tried to) reassure you as he kissed your face, peppering soft kisses all over it as he started to move with more strenght, almost as if he was punishing you which forced you to keep your mouth open as lewd moans kept coming out. The sound of your skin hitting against his resonating all over the long corridor where you were, your face flushing just from the thought of being found by anyone of the other ghosts.

Mr. Scarletella was able to fit it, even if it was not the whole thing.

#fanfiction #x reader #smut #homicipher #mr crawling #mr scarletella #mr scarletta #mr silver #homicipher x reader #mr scarlatella x reader #mr crawling headcanons #mr crawling x reader #mr silvair #mr silvair x reader #homicipher smut #homicipher headcanons #homicipher mr crawling #homicipher scarletella #homicipher mr silvair

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mickyschumacher · 7 days ago

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hey could u give us something with the reader wearing body glitter and max and reader kinda are lowkey or uk fwb just fucking in secret and he is kinda in love but doesn't wanna ruin it

but then they go to a party and like she is wearing body glitter uk those glitter sprays and he finds her so irresistible and has to uk get a quickie and then when they come back he is covered in glitter and thats how ppl find out

u could also make it Charles's sister or something

[YOU'RE SO GOLDEN!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: max should stay away from you if he knows what's best for him. but he can't help it. you just... sparkle. or in which you forget to rub off the evidence of max's love.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors dni), fluff, fwb/forbidden love themes, max is down bad for the reader, light praise kink, oral sex/eating out, p in v, unprotected sex (protect yourselves pls), cumming inside, mutual orgasms, orgasm denial kinda, poor humour imo, happy ending! // poorly proof-read ♡︎

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: max verstappen x leclerc!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2.8k+

𝐀/𝐍: the ideas you lot have.... chef's kiss truly 💋 hope you like this one as much as i enjoyed writing it. also my first max fic... can you believe it? there's more coming dw! - ngl i kept thinking about edward cullen - "this is the skin of a killer, bella" 🫣

🏎️ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | ⚽️ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Max knew it was a mistake coming here. He should've said no. His partying days had been over for a while now. He spent more time in his room streaming than he did outside. He especially knew it was a mistake because he knew you'd be there.

Charles never went anywhere without you. Wherever he was, you were.

Maybe that's why Max had gone to Lando's party. Because he knew Charles had said yes. Which meant you had said yes.

It was never supposed to happen. It was a one time thing. You were drunk. He was drunk. You didn't remember much of the night. Max had just won his fourth championship in Vegas. And that definitely warranted some partying in Monaco.

There were strobe lights. Martin Garrix was DJing. It was hot and humid. Somehow you had found your lips on Max's. The rest of the night was self-explanatory.

You had woke up the next morning, slightly distraught because Charles would only be first in the line of brothers that would kill you. And while Max peacefully slept in the morning, you took the walk of shame back to your apartment.

The problem was that neither of you could forget the time you spent together. Even though you had drunk one too many that night, you could remember every moment in his bed vividly. Max could still hear your laughs in the emptiness of his apartment. And when he closed his eyes every night before bed, he could see you on top of him.

Max was the one who had suggested the whole thing. Friends with benefits. He said it'd be good for some pleasure for the both of you. Because sex definitely isn't intimate or anything.

But Max was struggling to draw the line. He was feeling things he shouldn't. Concerned when you were sick. Excited for your texts. Small moments reminded him of you when he walked around. You were the first thing he thought about he got in the car and the last when he got out.

More. He craved more than the moments after where you talked for hours before you left. He wanted to wake up to you. He wanted you to pick outfits in front of him and let him pretend which one he liked until you were both back in bed, laughing and moaning.

Fuck. If he knew anything, he was falling in love with you with every passing day.

That's why he should've said no to this party. But, either to his greatest pleasure or his greatest misery, he could never say no to you

That's why Max had made some rules coming here:

No looking at you for more than thirty seconds (because Charles would know instantly).

No touching you. At all. This was non-negotiable.

One conversation. That's all he would allow himself. Because if he talked to you any longer, he wouldn't be able to stop himself.

But those rules seem to fly out the window the instant you had walked in next to Charles. Max could've sworn he was watching it in slow motion.

It was still light out, sun only beginning to set. By the way you and your entourage was dressed, you had clearly been swimming. Your sheer black dress did the bare minimum to cover up your bikini underneath. Even worse was the cut out near your chest, holding the two sides of the dress together with a small metal circle, teasing him.

But that wasn't the worse thing. Nor was it the way your hair fanned across your body, set up as if God had done it himself. Nor was it your signature perfume wafting in the air already.

It was the glitter.

That stupid fucking body glitter.

It sparkled and shimmered on your skin. Your bare legs could make the light dance around you. Your arms held all the command, moving the shine and twinkles with each stride as you walked. And your collarbone – God, your collarbone. Glittering in such a way that he was sure he just wanted to lick you clean.

You were positively glowing in the sunset

You had him hooked. Fixated. And almost on his knees.

Max had already broken rule number one. Fuck the rest.

He tried to wait patiently. Watching you converse with a few people for the first ten minutes. But as you glimmered more from afar, his patience wore thin and his restraint was beginning to break.

Max sent you a text. Plain and Simple. Bathroom. Now.

He didn't wait for you to read it and look at him. Max knew you'd come. Because a bit like him, you also had trouble saying no.

Five minutes. That's how long it took for you to come to the bathroom. He would've argued that was five minutes too long.

You raised a brow, folding your arms, keeping your amusement at bay as Max neared you with a few strides, locking the bathroom door.

"Took you long enough," Max mumbled, leaning back to get a better view of you. His eyes glazed over the specks of glitter rubbed into your skin as he spoke. "What were you doing? Talking their ears off?"

You tilted your head to the side, eyes narrowed playfully. "I was enjoying it. Too bad someone was giving 'fuck me' eyes from across the room. You're basically begging for Charles to find out," you huffed quietly.

"Begging?" Max queried, brows raised in slight surprise. He smirked slowly, hands reaching out to brush over your collarbone, fingers grazing your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps across your shimmering skin. "The only person who's going to be begging is you when I'm done with you. Driving me crazy looking like this," he sighed out.

You shivered at his touch, breath caught at his words. You blinked, cheeks flushing. "It's just body glitter," you murmured quietly, teeth sinking into your lips as you watched him bend down, on his knees while he looked up at you.

"Maybe," Max shrugged, hands creeping up your legs, preventing you from clenching your thighs like you had been the moment you walked in here. "But you look so pretty," he confessed.

Your lips parted. His words sounded far from the Max you knew a couple months ago. This was... soft. Like he couldn't control his brain.

He peered at you, lips and cheek grazing the side of your thigh, edging closer and closer to the heat – fabric of your dress brushing his skin. "Let me taste you," he pleaded. "I need you so bad."

He wasn't lying. The bulge in his jeans was so strained, you almost could've sworn it was painful. You wondered what he had been doing for past five minutes. What he had been thinking about to get this hard.

"Everyone's outside," you reminded quietly, not directly saying no. And by 'everyone' you mainly meant Charles.

"They won't know. The music is too loud. I promise," Max reassured, patiently waiting for your answer, small kisses pressed on the inside of your thigh. His touch was tantalising.

You swallowed thickly, nodding. You only just trust your voice. "Okay," you agreed. "But we have to be quick. Ten minutes tops."

You were in the bathroom for Christ's sake. But any minute longer, Charles might have a search party going. God forbid his little sister was getting a good dicking down. (Max's words, not yours.)

You could feel his grin on the side of your thigh and it made you shudder. Max hummed with satisfaction. "Let's prepare you then."

You held your breath as his hands moved, riding your dress up past your thighs, bunching up at your waist while your black bikini bottoms stared at Max at eye level. He sighed, "Fuck me." The fabric was stuck to your folds, darker where damp.

"So wet," he laughed softly, the sound teasing as he pulled down the fabric, letting it pool your legs. He breathed in, the smell of your arousal only fuelling his hunger. His hands grasped your thighs tighter, spreading them further to watch your slick shine the same way your skin did.

Max gave you no warning like he usually did. He was already so far gone with his desires. He leaned his head in, tongue darting out to take one long stripe of your wet folds, grinning when your body jerked to his touch. "Taste so sweet, schat," he praised before delving into your pussy.

You could only whimper, your hand clamped over your mouth. His fingers clamped deeper into your thighs, pulling you closer while his tongue darted into every crevice and fold. Your other hand fell to his shoulder, bracing your self and grasping at the way his defined nose knocked at your clit.

Your head fell back to the bathroom door, hips grinding up into his tongue as if it was second nature. Your eyes fluttered shut, breathing stuttering while your chest rose and fell. Fuck, it felt so good

Max could see it faintly through his peripheral. Your arousal covering the sides of your thigh, mixing with your body glitter to create a whole new unique shine that solely comprised of you. He could only grunt against your cunt, the sound reverberating through your body.

The clench of your pussy told Max everything he needed to know.

He parted from your folds, silencing your quiet whines with his wet lips, shining with glitter and arousal as he kissed you. Your hand found the buckle of his pants, quickly prodding to take them off.

Max's body lurched upon the feel of your hand on his cock. "Fucking hell," he cussed into your neck, eyes rolling slightly.

"Five minutes," you rasped in his ear, fingers grazing his tip for leaving his cock hanging from his pants, aching and twitching for more of your touch.

Max swallowed, nodding furiously. His one hand travelled to your thigh, hooking it closer to his body while the other laid flat on the bathroom door, steadying himself. His hips aligned with yours, his pulsing cock teasing your entrance, covered in your arousal.

A reverent guttural moan spilled from his lips as he pushed his hips up into you, cock welcoming the warmth of your pussy, balls flushed against you once he fully bottomed out. "Holy fuck," you barely whispered, his hips beginning to rut against you.

Your glimmering skin stuck against one another while Max brought his lips to yours, consuming all the loud moans threatening to scape with his sloppy kisses. He pushed his cock further into you, feeling his balls slap against you, making the most obscene sounds known to man echo in the bathroom.

He looked down at you, feeling his cock pulse at the fucked out expression that teetered on your face. You could barely breathe with all the air escaping your lungs as the familiar white light edged near you. Max grinned against your lips. "You going to come for me? With all those people outside? You keep warning me about Charles but I think you secretly enjoy this, schat. You just can't get enough of me."

Your fingers on his shoulder tightened, stomach churning while your jaw fell open. "Fuck!" you gasped, any sounds from your mouth turning silent as stars covered your vision, body convulsing as the waves of your orgasm rolled over you one after another.

"That's it," Max coaxed, hips snapping faster into you. "Did so well for me. Clenching so tightly," he grunted, eyes falling to the cream ring around his cock. Christ.

"Come for me, Max," you encouraged, holding his jaw so he looked back at you. "Fill me up," you breathed, body tightening when you felt his fingers rub your clit. The pleasure was beginning to build up fast.

Max swallowed, unable to look away as he felt your orgasm vibrate around his cock as you clenched around him. A high-pitched stuttered groan fell from his lips, hips stuttering against you.

The both of you moaned as his hot white cum spilled into your walls. Your folds clamped around him, milking every last drop. Your head fell against the bathroom door with an exhausted sigh, chest heaving as he pulled out gently after a few minutes had passed.

"Thank you." You breathed out slowly, giving a small smile as Max pulled your bikini bottoms back up, not missing the way his blown pupils were stuck on the way his cum spilled out of your and onto the wet fabric.

Max cleared his throat, nodding in acknowledgement.

You shuffled down your dress, patting down the material so you looked somewhat presentable. You looked over at the mirror before turning to Max. "I'll leave first," you murmured, barely giving him a glance over as you often did so you didn't overthink. You turned to unlock the door.

Max blinked, failing to ignore the clench of his heart. You were reminding him what you were. Friends with benefits. That's all you were.

The air felt cold on your heated skin. The thrum of chatter and music filled your ears as you weaved through the small crowds of people, finding Charles and Alexandra talking to Lando.

"What I'd miss?" You queried, looping your arm through Alexandra's.

Lando kindly grinned at you. "A trip to Ibiza. If you're down," he shrugged.

Charles nodded. "Lando hired a yacht. Although we should probably ask Max to deal with it since he owns so many," he huffed, head twisting to spot the Dutch driver. "Max!" He flagged down.

Max pressed his lips, avoiding your gaze as he greeted your brother and Lando.

"Where have you been? We were just talking about some– what's that?" Charles paused, brows furrowing as he peered at Max oddly.

"What's what?" Max retorted.

Charles dipped his head, blue eyes examining the last bits of sun on Max's skin. "Is that glitter?" He asked out of sheer curiosity.

Your face fell, growing instantly hot at your brother's words. You could feel Max's body still while Charles followed the way Alexandra and Lando's eyes travelled to you and your glittering skin.

Fuck.

Charles snapped his eyes to Max, brows raised in disbelief. "Max... for the love of God, tell me you're not having..." he breathed in slowly like he was afraid to say it. "...sex with my sister."

Max took a step closer to you, covering you with his body like he was going to protect you. Why on earth would he do that?

You gave Charles a pointed look. "W-We're adults, Charles," you reminded, seemingly confirming it yourself with a shaky breath.

"Merde," Charles cursed, shaking his head. You could see Alexandra squeeze his hand gently, trying to calm and comfort him. You gave her a grateful smile, still a bit terrified of your brother.

Charles kept looking at Max, keeping his position as older brother up before being his friend. "So you're dating then?" He queried as if it was the only obvious answer.

The question felt loud. The silence even louder.

Charles would kill the both of you if he found out were just friends with benefits. But the truth was... it wasn't really like that anymore. There was something more. But neither of you had been brave enough to admit it.

That is... yet.

Max turned to you, blue eyes softening slightly. He grabbed your hand with his. His voice was low and quiet, leaving only you to hear him. "I don't really want to just be 'friends,'" he admitted with a tight scared smile.

You blinked at his admission, taking time to register his words. Finally a soft smile graced your face. You felt impossibly warm and complete. You squeezed his hand. "Neither," you whispered back.

Max tried to tone down his grin as much as he could as he turned to Charles and sucked in a sharp breath. "We're dating," he confirmed.

Lando raised a brow. "You mean as of now. You're dating as of now. How long have you been fucking?"

"Lando!" You hissed, glaring at him, unable to even look at Charles or Max.

Charles breathed in slowly, a barely sane smile on his face. He rubbed his temples gently. "I'm going to ignore that," he mumbled, gesturing to Lando before turning to your now boyfriend. "Well, welcome to the family," he sighed out, grabbing Max's shoulder. He leaned in further, the threat quiet in his ear but visible for all of you to see. "Hurt her and I swear to God you'll crash on track."

Max swallowed thickly. He gave a firm nod. "Duly noted."

"Great!" Charles chirped, leaning back with a feigned smile that only told you that you were in for it when you got home.

Oh Jesus.

You tugged Max closer to you. "I think we should enjoy what freedom we both have left for the day."

Max nodded idly. "Sounds like a good idea."

#mickyschumacher #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 smut #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen smut

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mona-risms · 1 month ago

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hear me out.. polytrix x reader where fem!reader doesn't know about the whole demon hunter thing and is still under the hypnosis from the saja boys and the girls try their hardest to snap her out of it. 🫦

◆ MAIN COURSE: poly!HUNTR/X x fem!Reader

◆ TYPE: SFW, romantic

◆ ALLERGEN WARNINGS: None

◆ NOTES: This might've SLIGHTLY teeny tinily missed the point but I hope you still like it!! I can't make a full-blown fic without getting paid bc I'm broke as hell and I'm lazy so the most you're getting is the usual hcs and snippets I fear 💔. But anyway I LOVELOVELOVE POLYTRIX 😩😩😩😩😩 I think they should all kiss together and kiss me too

This is the funniest shit ever and no one can tell me otherwise bc you've got three ninja popstars and one perfectly normal human being who just really really loves K-Pop. And you all LOVE each other????? #holyfcknairball no one would believe you until you show full proof that yes you do in fact kiss those celebrities on the mouth! Every day actually! Unless they're on tour but still! Yes you are a girls only poly couple! You couldn't be happier!

Unfortunately bc of the fact that you're normal, you won't even know that the hot new boy band, Saja Boys, are all drawing people in via brainwashing to sacrifice your souls to a Demon King named Gwi-Ma that looks like an oversized wildfire. Said people includes you I fear 💔💔. Imagine you were out coincidentally and you got to witness their debut performance and you were so drawn to them!! Why wouldn't you be??

They hear your voice before they see you—right there, right near the front row, right in front of them.

"What's she doing here?" Mira hissed, though despite her tone, the concern was glaringly obvious.

"I think she wanted to buy something? She said about baking," Zoey answered, her own concern matching up with Mira as she bounced on the balls of her feet in an attempt to both alleviate her sudden restlessness and to see you from the crowd. "But-- But what if they try to grab her? [Y/N]'s at a very grabbable distance! And the worst thing is I won't even blame them—she's really grabbable in general!"

Zoey doesn't even finish before Rumi's weaving through the crowd in an attempt to reach you, "Either way, no one is getting grabbed, least of all our girlfriend."

When Rumi does reach you, she taps your shoulder to gain your attention. Without fail, you turn around and smile widely in recognition, "Ru-- Ahem, babe! Did you see how good this new band was? They're called the Saja Boys!"

"Yeah. I heard."

Usually, you would've noticed her sudden deadpan, but you were buzzing too much under your skin from the sudden excitement of this new debut so you barrelled on, "Maybe you and them'll even collab one day! Wouldn't that be awesome?!"

"Yeah, awesome, now c'mon, we need to get out of the crowd," she effortlessly twines her fingers in yours, which you reciprocate happily as you follow her while still going on about the Saja Boys. But when she dares to look back at the boy band, she noticed the black-haired demon in disguise's eyes on you.. and then on her, as if he knew very well what was going on.

When you finally get out of the crowd, you rejoin your other two loves of your life with a cheek kiss for Mira and then a squealing hug with Zoey.

Mira doesn't hesitate to ask as you and the shortest HUNTR/X member basically wrapped yourselves on each other, "Are you okay? They didn't do anything to you, did they?"

"Yeah, like, did they ever, I dunno.. suck your soul out or something?" Zoey asked, and then quietly winced as Mira and Rumi both signalled not to say anything with exaggerated expressions and hand gestures behind you.

You giggled at the line of questioning, "What? No? My soul definitely felt like it ascended while watching them, though! You guys are funny."

While you and Zoey were busy clinging onto each other, Rumi pulled Mira in to whisper to her, "They know."

"Know what?"

"That we're linked together in some way? That she's a normal human? I don't know, but they know and I don't want to risk her to find out. Do you?"

And their gazes drift to you as you spoke animatedly with Zoey, equally rambling to you and matching your energy in turn—probably both invested in the situation and also well-aware of the much-needed secret debriefing.

And Mira shook her head with furrowed brows, "Absolutely not."

"Good."

Whenever the girls are all "DON'T FALL FOR THEM" you're so confused bc like. Why?? What's up with them recently???? Ever since the Saja Boys popped up, they've been so weirdly pressed about them every time you brought them up. Like, sure, rivalry's one thing, but you've seen them with rivalries before!!!!! It's not like the Saja Boys have like killed people or smth lmfao it's okay the world's not gonna end if you stan them too (cue the scene with them and Bobby looking at the same city and seeing Two Completely Different Views)

Every time you're ever with them one way or another and the Saja Boys are around/involved they are LOCKING THE FUCK IN. Constantly trying to redirect your attention and theirs like "Do Not Look At Her" and if you ever get too close they'll be all "back the FUCK up actually". And whenever thry try to pull all that hypnotising shit on you they are DRAGGING YOU AWAY and kissing you until you run out of air and forget what you were even thinking about like a min ago 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

They're so much more attentive towards you, and during the two weeks of the Saja Boys being there, you are NOT allowed to be without at LEAST one of them. Why?? Ohhhh yk cuz they just really really miss you, that's all!!!!! They did just come out of a world tour so like they wanna be with you for as much as possible ahahahaha definitely bc the boy band you're fawning over rn are actually demons that want to consume your soul!!! Especially yours!!!!!! Bc they know you're special to them all ahahahahaahahahahahahaahahhaa

Oh but it'd be devastating if Mira and Zoey saw you with the crowd after Rumi's breakdown. Not only Bobby was brainwashed, but so are you, mindlessly following the masses. And as much as they want you to fight it, to remember, they can't even blame you or find the strength; they failed, Rumi hid she was part-demon the entire time, it's over

You'd be one of the people closest to Gwi-Ma's flames on purpose I think—a twisted way for Jinu to make your sacrifice quick and painless. But when Rumi and then Zoey and Mira both clock it? Absolutely the fuck not dude Gwi-Ma just made them even fucking MADDER

At the end of it they know they'll definitely have to explain everything to you, considering. From the Saja boys to Rumi explaining herself properly ALLLLL the way to how they're Hunters and what they do. But at the very least you're not dead thank GOD

"You guys know I don't actually know how to feel right now, right? Finding out that my girlfriends have been constantly getting into near-death experiences as, like, idol ninjas with magic weapons isn't really for the faint of heart—let alone finding out demons and supernatural whatevers are real."

The four of you migrated to Rumi's bed after that whole ordeal at the Tower, tired and exhausted and in need of a good cuddle pile. Right now, you and Rumi were cuddled up against each other, her patterns casting a soft glow on your skin, while Mira was spooning you with her tall frame and Zoey clung onto Rumi like a koala.

The trio had the decency to wince a little, and Mira spoke first in defence, "To be fair, we did get trained for, like, years not to give anything away, including our Hunter profession."

"And I'm your girlfriend," you sighed as your hand traced the jagged glowing lines across Rumi's skin, "I thought we weren't going to hide anything. No wonder sometimes you lot disappear without any explanation—this whole time, you've been.. slaying demons?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

You hummed.. before putting your attention on Rumi, "And you. You really think we were going to love you any less because of what you're mixed with?"

"Um. Kinda?" Rumi looked to the side, averting your gazes, "It's-- I was raised to think that I should be ashamed of it, that I need to hide. It's--"

"Why you always have a separate green room?"

"Why you don't go into the batthouse with us?"

Rumi nodded, though not without a flush on her cheeks, "..yeah."

Your gaze softened as you lightly bit your lip before cupping her face for a short but tender kiss, "You think that's gonna really scare me—us—away? Mira and Zoey came back to you after the shock, and I sure as hell don't care if you were part-turtle or whatever--"

"Being part-turtle would be cool! ..Or super slow, depends--"

"My point being," you interrupted Zoey with an affectionate chuckle, "we love you because you're our Rumi. Not an idol, not a demon, just our Rumi—the one that overthinks, overworks and gets so into her head that we'd have to shut it for her. ..No more hiding, yeah?"

Rumi doesn't respond, not for a long while, and thre three of you are content in just laying there in silence, with her patterns casting a brighter yet softer glow on all of you. But eventually she buries her head in your chest, muffling her eventual answer, "..Mhm. Thank you."

Zoey's hold on Rumi tightened as she practically nuzzled into the latter's back, all while Mira reached over to hold Rumi's hand, now back to its human shape compared to the claws she had briefly before. No one else says anything, and that's perfectly fine for the four of you.

"..So I guess I'm retiring from stanning anyone but you guys."

"Obviously!" "Duh." "You are."

#mona's main course...#polytrix x reader #rumi x reader #kdh rumi x reader #mira x reader #kdh mira x reader #zoey x reader #kdh zoey x reader #kpop demon hunters x reader #kpop demon hunters imagines #kdh x reader #kdh imagines #huntrix x reader #huntrix imagines #huntr/x x reader #huntr/x imagines

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joeyfromthetrack · 2 months ago

Text

Interviews and Secrets - MV³³

Max Verstappen x Russell!Reader

Summary: Max Verstappen and George Russell have been fighting publicly, little does George know, Max is secretly dating George's little sister.

Contains: sibling arguments, rivalry, fluffy ending, Qatar 2024

The feud everyone talked about had started not on track but on live television.

Three months earlier, George Russell had stood with Sky Sports following the Qatar GP. George had gone from qualifying second to placing fourth and was furious, not only with him self but with Max Verstappen.

George didn’t hesitate. “Whenever anything doesn't go his way, he lashes with unnecessary anger and borderline violence.”

The clip went viral before they’d cut to the commercial break. Headlines screamed RUSSELL CALLS VERSTAPPEN VIOLENT. Sponsors issued nervous statements about “sportsmanship.” Schools of amateur analysts slowed down every corner‑to‑corner replay to hunt for proof of Max’s alleged aggression. A rivalry that had always simmered suddenly boiled over, and the media spooned up every angry bubble.

What no one knew was that Max and George's younger sister had been secretly dating for months.

The first time had been accidental—almost, come to think of it, not really. George joined the grid in 2019 and with him came his precious little sister who was the literal definition of sunshine. Her and Max would be considered to be complete opposites, but opposites attract.

She intrigued Max in the best way, from the way her hair shone in the sun to how her eyes creased when she smiled.

Whilst on a solo getaway from university, she ended up at Jimmy'z during a break in the season. Their schedules aligned perfectly and the two found themselves in the same room outside of the racing world.

Jimmy’z was buzzing, loud with bass and thick with cigarette smoke, the air perfumed by money. The lights pulsed off the crystal-strewn ceiling, reflecting in a thousand fractured shards across the dark, glamorous crowd.

He wasn’t planning to stay long. He hadn’t even told anyone he was going out. But when he spotted her from across the room, all plans vanished.

She looked different tonight. Looser. Unbothered. And he was tired of pretending he didn’t want to know her.

Max drained the last of his drink and headed her way. As he approached, she glanced up—not startled, not flustered—just quietly assessing.

“You’re a long way from the grid,” she said before he could speak.

He smirked. “You recognize me?”

“You’re kind of hard to miss Mr three time world champion."

He gave a short laugh. "So what brings you to Monaco?"

“Solo getaway,” she said. “Needed to get out of Cambridge before I lost my mind.”

“Didn’t peg you for the clubbing type.”

“I’m not.” She sipped her drink. “But tonight felt like the right kind of wrong.”

He liked that. Liked the way her eyes held his, unafraid. There was no flirtation in her voice; at least not the kind he was used to.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked.

She tilted her head toward the empty stool. “Be my guest.”

He ordered them another round and tried not to look too eager. She didn’t make it easy. Everything about her was magnetic in a quiet way; like gravity that snuck up on you. She talked about school, about trying to survive term papers and roommates. He told her a story about nearly getting stuck in Tokyo during a typhoon. They both mocked the overpriced cocktails.

At one point, she leaned in just a little, and Max caught the subtle scent of vanilla and something warmer, like amber. Not expensive. Just… her. He’d spent nights with women who wore perfume that screamed for attention. She didn’t have to.

As they drank and laughed, they inched closer to each others, unintentionally and subconsciously. They realised there close proximity at the same time, it wasn't awkward, she laughed warmly and he leant in, she accepted his movement and their lips locked into a kiss.

Her hand went up to his neck and his to her waist, it wasn't rough or urgent, it was full of passion and want.

When the kiss broke, she looked at him like something had shifted.

“That was… bold,” she said.

“I’ve always been better at driving than waiting; and I waited a long time for that.”

She laughed, low and warm.

He stepped back, giving her the space to make the next move. “This doesn’t have to be anything,” he said. “But it could be. If you want.”

She studied him again with those calculating, deliberate eyes.

And then she smiled.

“I’m on a solo trip,” she said. “But I didn’t say I had to stay solo the whole time.”

Two days later, she flew back to school. They didn’t promise anything, but neither stopped calling.

By the time the season opened in Bahrain, they were deep into something they refused to name.

They were good at hiding it—at first.

She’d visit during breaks in her semester, ducking into team garages under excuses. Max would meet her in tucked-away corners behind grandstands or inside the hushed corridors of VIP suites. It was adrenaline and privacy, stolen hours in cities across the globe.

Only a few close calls.

In Melbourne, they slipped out of a hotel bar just before George arrived. In Jeddah, they were nearly caught leaving the same suite—Max five minutes behind her. The staff raised eyebrows. But nobody said anything.

Yet.

Then following the second to last race of the season came The Interview.

She called ten minutes later.

“I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize for him,” Max said tightly.

She hesitated. “He doesn’t know who you’ve become.”

“He doesn’t know us.”

She spoke again. "Does this affect us Max?"

“Absolutely not.”

They finished out the season in Abu Dhabi with high tensions between George and Max, Max was now a four time world champion.

Off the grid, She and Max stayed careful. Private entrances. Secret trips to see each other in both Cambridge and Monaco.

But in Monaco, they slipped.

After a late-night tdinner, they ducked through the old stone alleys, her heels clicking on cobblestone. They found a quiet garden terrace, kissed in the glow of string lights, just for a second.

The two shared yet another night together, unaware of what was happening in the hell that is social media.

The photo hit social media. By sunrise, it was front-page news.

MAX VERSTAPPEN & GEORGE RUSSELL’S SISTER'S SECRET ROMANCE EXPOSED!

Paddock chaos erupted. Max’s PR team panicked. Her phone buzzed with a dozen missed calls from George. Fans took sides. That was what they woke up to instead of the Monaco sun hitting the window just right.

“He knows,” she said.

Max nodded. “Yeah.”

George didn’t text. He came in person.

He shoved the door open, face flushed red. “You’ve been lying to me.”

She stood in front of Max, arms folded.

“Let me explain,” she said.

George’s eyes burned. “You’ve been sneaking around with him? While he’s been treating me like a punching bag on track?”

“He’s not trying to hurt you!” she shouted.

Max stepped forward. “We didn’t lie to you. We just didn’t think you’d ever—”

“Approve?” George’s voice cracked. “You’re right. I don’t.”

“Why?” she demanded. “Because it’s Max or because you hate the idea I made a choice without your permission?”

George turned his fury on her. “He’s volatile. He’s dangerous. He only thinks about himself.”

“No,” she said, quietly. “You just don’t know the side of him that I do.”

“You’ve got some fucking nerve,” he spat.

“I didn’t come to fight,” Max said.

“No? You’re good at that. On track. Off track. You don’t know how to back down.”

Max’s jaw flexed. “I know how to back off when it’s about someone I care about.”

“Oh, spare me. This isn’t about her. This is about winning. About getting under my skin—”

“It’s not,” Max cut in. “Not everything is about you, George.”

“She’s my sister.”

“She’s not a trophy,” Max snapped. “She’s not part of the rivalry. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And I tried—we tried—not to ruin that.”

“I don’t trust you,” George said.

“You don’t have to,” She said. “I do.”

The silence that followed was painful.

Max stepped forward. “I didn’t plan for this. I didn’t go looking for her because of you. I stayed away for as long as I could because of you. But I love her.”

She blinked. George didn’t.

Max turned to her. “I do.”

That finally broke through the storm.

George didn’t say anything for a long moment. He looked at her, then at Max, then back again. And when he finally spoke, his voice had lost its heat.

“If you hurt her…”

“I won’t,” Max said.

“I’ll break your goddamn legs.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

George exhaled, rubbed a hand over his face, and left without another word.

They didn’t plan it. Which, in hindsight, felt fitting.

It wasn’t a high-profile red carpet or a flashy paddock walk. There were no paparazzi waiting at the door. Just a Sunday afternoon, a sleepy little café in Notting Hill, and the kind of chill that hinted summer was packing its bags.

Max had been in London for a few days, staying low-key. She’d just submitted a major paper and wanted to celebrate. Nothing big. Just pastries, hot coffee, and his hoodie wrapped around her like a security blanket.

The café had outdoor seating, string lights still flickering from the night before. They sat at a table on the far end of the terrace. She had her legs folded beneath her in the chair. Max had his cap pulled low, sunglasses on the table beside his croissant.

And they weren’t thinking about who might be watching. For once, they didn’t care.

He reached across the table to wipe a smudge of powdered sugar from the corner of her mouth. She smiled, leaned into his touch. He didn’t pull back. He let his hand linger.

It wasn’t until the couple sitting near the café window did a double take—phones discreetly angled toward them—that Max noticed.

He looked at her. She looked back.

“I don’t want to duck behind corners anymore,” she said quietly.

He nodded. “Me neither.”

She reached out and laced their fingers together on the table, where everyone could see.

Max let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding for months.

Later, they lay together in her flat, legs tangled, the windows open to let the late afternoon light pour in.

“I still can’t believe it’s real,” she murmured, her head tucked beneath his chin.

He ran his fingers along her spine, slow and steady. “You, me, or the fact your brother didn’t punch me again?”

She laughed. “All of the above.”

He tilted her chin up with his knuckles, kissed her forehead, then her nose, then finally her lips—soft, unhurried.

“I want this,” he said. “All of it. The real thing. Not just stolen moments in hotel rooms and five-minute calls between races.”

Her smile bloomed slowly, beautifully. “You already have it.”

He kissed her again, deeper this time, like gratitude.

She buried her face in his chest. “So what now?”

Max stared at the ceiling, holding her close. “Now... we do boring things. Walks in daylight. Grocery shopping without hats and sunglasses. I get to hold your hand when we cross the street.”

“That sounds perfect,” she said, lips curving against his shirt.

He pulled the blanket tighter around them. “You’re perfect.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m moody. I overthink everything. And you chew your gum like an actual menace.”

He laughed into her hair. “Okay, we’re both disasters. But I still think you’re perfect.”

They didn’t say I love you again. They didn’t need to. It hung between them in the silence, in the golden light on the walls, in the easy way they held each other like they’d done it a thousand times already.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Word count: 2k

#f1 x reader #f1 #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #formula one #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #mv33 #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen

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kitten4sannie · 6 months ago

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ᴄᴀꜱᴛɪɴɢ ᴄᴏᴜᴄʜ

ᴄᴏʀʀᴜᴘᴛɪᴏɴ/ᴄʀᴇᴀᴍᴘɪᴇ ➠ ꜱᴀɴ

pairing: frat boy! san x fem! reader feat. yungi

genre: frat au, smut

summary: san and his boys are more than grateful when you help them with their newest ‘feature film.’

w.c: 3k

warnings: they’re making porn okay, nasty mean dom! san, subby aloof! reader, san knowingly takes advantage of reader’s romantic feelings for him…. (bro’s the king of douchebags), manipulation/corruption, reader is treated like a fuck doll <3, brief implied mxm bc i love fruity frat boys uwu, praise/false praise, name calling/degradation, major voyeurism/exhibitionism kink, mind break ig?, dp in one hole, oral (giving), brief hair pulling, throat-fucking, tit fucking, facial, rough sex, bulge kink, breeding kink, dacryphilia, gang bang !!, it’s all unprotected btw, multiple orgasms, creampies <33

a/n: this is so fucking insane you guys….like idk why frat aus have me in such a chokehold but here we are🧍🏻‍♀️also this is totally random (and essential) info but san’s signature frat party look would be a ‘don’t hate me it turns me on’ shirt and a backwards red cap hwjhw anyways happy reading~ and please lemme know if you liked it uwu

p.s: we’re at 6.5k followers HELLO???? that’s insane 🫣 thank you so very much!!!

song rec: i like the way you kiss me - artemas (✨ male manipulation: the song ✨)

ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

“Smile for the camera, pretty girl,” San, the frat boy you’ve been in love with for ages, encouraged you from behind the lens of the camcorder he was holding, his smooth baritone voice like saccharine, artificial, yet sweet enough to keep you coming back for another taste. It was when you offered him a small, shy smile through the camera lense, despite the shamelessness of your current position, that he knew he had struck gold.

San was filming one of the first of many future encounters you would be having on the expansive black leather couch inside their crowded frat den. You were stuffed to the absolute brim by two of his closest colleagues, Yunho and Mingi, who always refused to participate unless they were working together as a duo.

“Stop looking at me like that, dude,” Mingi huffed up at Yunho from below the both of you, his shoulders and back routinely getting stuck to the couch with sweat.

“Like what?” Yunho scoffed back, leaning further down onto your body to get closer to Mingi, essentially folding you in half, his hands closing around your ankles.

“Like you wanna kiss me. You’re gonna make me soft.” Mingi grimaced, pushing Yunho’s hands out of the way to hold onto your ankles instead, driving himself into you like a well oiled machine. He was throbbing nonstop, but there was absolutely no proof that it was because of his friend’s heavy cock rubbing along his inside the cunt they were sharing.

Yunho’s breath hit your shoulder when he laughed. “Skill issue,” Yunho simply replied, delighted that Mingi bucked up into you even harder, encouraging him to do the same.

Clearly, there was something vaguely homoerotic going on there, but it wasn’t San’s business, and he definitely had better things to focus on — you, his newest pupil. He watched you with dollar signs in his bright brown eyes and the taste of cheap vodka on his tongue, unable to keep himself from licking repeatedly at his chapped lips, especially now that the innocent classmate he had recently taken a liking to had no problem taking two cocks at once inside her puffy, used cunt, while he, his bros, and his trusty camcorder had a front row seat to her mutually beneficial destruction.

“Look at you, so flexible…Are you sure you haven’t done this before, Y/N?” San teased, lowering the camera down until his sharp feline eyes were visible.

“N-no, I swear!” you squeaked out, the growing embarrassment you felt only spurring all of this newfound pleasure you were drunk on. “Just wanna, nnngh–be good for you…”

“Oh, that’s right. Silly me. You’re being a very good girl right now, baby, Don’t worry.” San couldn’t help but smile at the way you seemed to melt in front of him. It was just too easy. He glanced down at the camera, zooming in and capturing the moment his friends filled you up with their hot loads, the bliss evident on your fucked-out face. “That’s it, baby. Are you happy you stuck around here with us instead of going back to your dorm to do homework? Taking cock is much more fun, isn’t it, beautiful?”

“So much more fun,” you sighed out, your pupils blown out just from looking at his devastatingly handsome face. It was then that you pouted. You were only here because you were in love with San, and yet, it wasn’t even his dick inside you. It wasn’t fair. “But, I’d have even more fun with you, Sannie~”

“Is that so…?” San offered a brief shit-eating smirk to one of his boys nearby, reaching down to grab at himself through his sweatpants like he was weighing it. “It’s right here, baby. Why don’t you show us what that pretty mouth can do?”

Both Mingi and Yunho slowed down their thrusts, but didn’t completely pull out, choosing to leisurely fuck their cum back into you, as they fought to catch their breath.

“What a loser, cumming first like that,” Mingi insulted Yunho, licking at the saliva left on his lips.

“Your mom doesn’t have a problem with it,” Yunho chided back, reaching down past your body to smack his hand into the side of Mingi’s ass.

“Goddamn it, you guys, I’m gonna have to edit that gay shit out.” San brought a hand up to scratch at his head in frustration. “You know what, both of you, get out of my shot and sword fight somewhere else. I’m not doing this right now,” San grumbled, shooing the two panting men away from the couch they had just made a mess on.

“Bro acts like we don’t know about his late night tutoring sessions with Wooyoung,” Yunho whispered to Mingi, trying to stifle his laughter.

Mingi almost choked on his breath. “Don’t forget Yeosang. San doesn’t even take physics anymore, either. Yet, he still visits that nerd every Friday like clockwork.”

“Dude, aren’t they roommates?” Yunho cupped his hand around the side of his mouth, still using a hushed tone, “Do you think they run a train on–”

“Hey! Don’t make me haze the two of you again just for fun…” San warned from the center of the room, glaring daggers at the two men who went quiet almost immediately. His annoyance abruptly melted away once you gingerly reached up to pull his sweatpants down until the frat emblem that was stitched into the thigh pocket was no longer visible. It was when San smacked his heavy length down onto your face, that you let out a pornstar worthy moan. Cha-ching. “Oh, you like that? Hm? Want my cock?”

“Mm-hmm…” San’s cock slapped down onto your face a second time. You quickly squeezed your thighs together to keep yourself from cumming right then and there, biting back a moan all the while. You wondered if it was obvious how truly desperate you were for the man standing above. Fuck it. You were already here, so you might as well get what you came for. “Please, give it to me, Sannie, f-fuck my mouth.”

San could not believe his luck. His loyal fanbase would absolutely have a field day with this as soon as he uploaded it. He could already see the cash flowing in, and it made him rock hard. He sighed happily to himself, running his fingers through your hair, carefully tucking a few strands behind your ear. “It’s really true what they say…the shy ones are always the most slutty.”

“I’m not a slut, I just–” you cut yourself off, not wanting to confess to San right before you were about to suck him off in front of his fraternity and whichever degenerate that would be watching it back later on. You pouted again, looking up at him with wide, sparkly eyes. “I want to be useful to you, like a doll~”

“Did you hear that, everyone? Y/N here is a real life fuck doll. Let’s treat her as such,” San reminded his friends and housemates who couldn’t help but hover around the couch, a few of them sharing knowing smiles with one another.

Your heart began to thump away inside your chest, unable to believe that your long-time crush was giving you so much of his attention and affection. It was like a dream come true. As soon as your lips parted to take in a shaky breath, San tightened his grip around your hair, yanking you forward and stuffing your mouth full of cock. “Mmnnf…!”

Clutching the camera with one hand and the makeshift ponytail he created near the back of your head, San began thrusting sloppily into your open mouth, groaning at the slick sensation of your throat routinely closing around his moving cockhead. “Come on, doll, let me in, yeah? So I can fuck your throat raw.”

San wasn’t lying. With each wet, rough thrust, he got closer and closer to doing what he promised you. “Mmmn…nnn…” You couldn’t tell if the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes were the result of San’s dizzying performance or the burning arousal you felt stirring inside your core simply from being watched by a room full of men you didn’t know.

“Aww, crying already, princess? I’ll give you something to really cry about when I’m breeding that slutty cunt of yours,” San chuckled darkly, his strong hips snapping relentlessly, his pace only beginning to falter once he saw your drool mixed with his pre-cum escaping past your chin and dripping down in between your tits, leaving your soiled skin with a shiny complexion. You looked like a true whore. It was going to make the frat leader bust any second. The borderline obsessive look you had inside your teary eyes didn’t help either. “Fuck, oh my god– Somebody take the goddamn camera!”

The youngest of the group fumbled to grab the camera, using his jacket sleeve to rub off the fingerprints he left behind on the lens, before lifting it up, capturing the exact moment San pulled out of your mouth with a loud ‘pop’ and slid his cock along in between your glistening tits.

San turned to face the camera for a second, dimples flashing, squishing your tits in between his thick fingers as he fucked them. “See, you guys? This is how you use a doll to her maximum potential,” he explained as though he were a professor on their campus. “Just look at her face. She fuckin’ loves it.”

Instead of trying to focus on the camera, you gazed directly up at him, your cheeks warm to the touch, still love-struck, even when San’s load landed all over your face. You simply licked away what had landed on your lips, sucking the rest off the frat leader’s fingers once he so lovingly fed it to you.

San nodded his head in approval, patting yours in an effort to reward you for your hard work. “That’s a good girl…” He tilted his head to the side. “I wanna see what else our pretty doll can do. Sound good?”

“Really good,” you chimed, licking at your swollen lips, savoring San’s salty essence.

Wedding bells were ringing in the distance. You would do anything for San, and if that meant letting him treat you like an onahole and fuck you in any position he saw fit for the next hour, then you would happily oblige. By the time your knees gave out from cumming for the nth time, San had you in a full nelson in the middle of the couch, positioned behind you with his arms locked around your upper half, making sure your used body was on complete display.

“Sannie…gonna…cum…again,” you breathed out in between a few airy moans, your head feeling so heavy that you just let it hang for a second.

San repositioned himself so that he could clutch your chin, tilting it upwards. His free hand snaked around your waist, laying his palm flat on your tummy, suddenly driving his cock up into you so hard, you couldn’t even speak if you wanted to. “Hey, be a good slut and let them see what you look like when you’re cumming your brains out.”

You obediently gazed up at the blurry camera past your wet lashes, that is, until your eyes rolled back into your skull, only able to let out a choked gasp as you barreled over the edge of ecstasy. You didn’t have a chance to recover from the overwhelming pleasure, especially not when San pressed his hand down firmly onto the bulge his cock was routinely making inside your stomach. “P-please..! Sannie..!”

You want another load? Fuck, baby.” Groaning, San took a second to lick one of the tears that was rolling along your cheek before it dropped, his hips slamming against yours so quick, you were already developing bruises, ones that would accompany the bright red love bites scattered across your slick skin. He pressed his lips directly to your ear, nibbling on your earlobe. “You know, seeing you in class and on campus, putting on that innocent virgin act, I never would’ve pegged you for a cock-hungry little slut, but everyone enjoys a good surprise every now and then…don’t they?”

“Yes–yes, yes, yes,” you chanted back, too cockdrunk to even fully process what San was saying, just focused on how full you felt, and how you needed more.

“Good, because I got a surprise for you too.” Grunting loudly, San lowered his hips and slammed them up into you one last time, holding your trembling body still, painting your pulsing walls white. “Now, say ‘thank you, Sannie.’”

“Thank you, Sannie.” You leaned your head back to nuzzle the side of his cheek, placing your hands over his, feeling him rubbing your lower stomach in small circles, his cock still fully sheathed inside you.

“Anytime, sugar.” San gave your hair a few strokes as a reward, before pulling out and climbing off of the couch. He took the camera back from the new guy and snapped his fingers at a few of the bricked up housemates standing nearby, pointing in your direction. “Now, show me what you’re really made of.” San gave you a charming, dimpled smile. “Make me proud, okay?”

As an eager group of half-naked strangers surrounded you on all sides of the couch, some of them reaching out to grope your warm body, you returned San’s smile, your heart skipping a beat or two. “I’ll give it my best just for you~”

Throughout the night, San, alongside his fraternity, conditioned you with care, meticulously molding you into their prime playtoy, one they enthusiastically passed around, easily making your tape one of the longest in their exclusive film collection. It wasn’t difficult, by any means. You were, of course, the perfect specimen: passive, pliant, and poisoned by the oxytocin that turned your brain into mush. You were a star.

Even when you were being used by more men than you could count, you couldn’t keep your attention off of Sannie, his handsome face only growing blurry when someone would make you gag on their cock, as you didn’t have the most experience with men of their size. You wanted San to yourself again, desperately wishing you could reach out for him, instead of another stranger’s twitching erection — but you endured it all, falling further into the rabbit hole of pleasure for the sake of your whirlwind infatuation.

Everyone in the frat house deeply appreciated your dedication to their amateur film, especially San, who, by the end of it, secured the perfect spot to capture the finality of your desecration. Two of his older friends had just finished inside you, their spent cocks slipping out of your gaping hole and revealing the sticky mess they left behind.

Crouched down in front of the couch, San reached out past the camcorder to spread your puffy lips apart, each and every load you took over the past few hours now slowly spilling out onto his veined hand. “Look at this pretty cunt, you guys…so full of cum, it won’t stop coming out…” He panned up to your face with the camera, giving you a wicked smile from behind it. “You’ll be pregnant in no time, won’t you, doll? With whose baby, I wonder…”

After all that, you somehow managed to act shy, covering your flushed face, giving San heart eyes past your cum-stained, trembling fingers. “Hopefully yours…”

“Oh, princess.” San gently rubbed his fingers over your sore cunt and clit, his friends’ loads still dribbling out of you all the while. “I don’t think you realize how cute you’re being right now~ Almost like you didn’t just slut yourself out for everyone to see, huh? Mm, do you feel cute, Y/N?” San asked in a babying tone, as he slowly stood up and towered over you.

“You make me feel cute…” You nuzzled your cheek into the palm of San’s warm hand once he offered it to you, hoping you secured a spot inside his heart after all the hard work you put in. “I would keep going for you if I could still feel my legs.”

“Aww, there’s always next time, isn’t there?” he suggested slyly, rubbing away some leftover cum from your cheek before caressing the side of your face. “Do you have anything to say to our loyal fanbase, baby?”

“I love cock, especially yours, Sannie,” you slurred lovingly up at San, through the camera lens, licking your lips, mouth watering at the thought of being invited again to film another movie. “So give me a call, okay?”

“Oh, I will, believe me.” A smug laugh erupted from San’s puffed-out chest, as he aimed the camera at his pretty boy face for a second to announce, “Gentlemen, we’ve officially turned another good girl into a filthy fuckhole. If you’d like to watch the transformation happen in real time, feel free to stop by our frat. For a good price, we’ll even let some of you bastards have a go.” And with that, he shut the camcorder off and pushed it into the youngest member’s chest, who looked at him with wide eyes. “Fuck it, we might even give you a turn.”

The freshman choked on his spit. “R-really?”

“I’m feeling nice today.” San sighed, running his fingers through his sweaty bangs to fix them. When the young man just stood there drooling, the frat leader grimaced. “Upload this to all our sites ASAP, and don’t forget about our twitter page this time,” he demanded, rolling his eyes when he saw the cum stains the embarrassed student left behind on his pants. “And, for fuck’s sake, will you take care of that?”

As another member brought a can of beer over to San, the frat leader took it and cracked it open. “Can you believe that guy? He’s been here for, what, a month now? And he’s still creaming his pants like a virgin? Unbelievable.”

As you gingerly put your clothes back on, you watched San move around the frat to dab up his friends and clink their beer cans together in celebration of another successful shoot. You couldn’t help but let out a long, lovesick sigh. He would be yours one day. Until then, you would take what you could get, and of course, become a star.

fff taglist: @yutasbutterfly02 @wisejudgedragonhairdo @dawn-iscozy @bbdeongi @multistanbaby @crazyf0rm @kittenfrostt @magicshop1913 @enbysforhongjoong @londonbridges01 @mingisdimple @motherseonghwa23 @wwooyology @everyonewooeverywhere @leo-seonghwa @yourfatherlucifer @hwallazia @vampzity

#ateez #ateez smut #choi san #san smut #ateez x reader #san x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez imagines #kpop smut

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kitysugar · 7 months ago

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pretty best friend ~ park sunghoon x reader

inspired by this request ! ౨ৎ ଓ ⋆˙⊹ [ 성훈 ] ☆ in which sunghoon helps his cute, innocent little best friend out after she asks for some.... advice. and despite knowing that he's a player - you had feelings for him anyways.. but little did you know he feels the same way.

word count ; 4.7k

best friend! player! sunghoon x nerd! reader , friends to lovers , blowjob , oral , fingering , hand job , very slight hints at ; corruption ; manipulation . curious reader , size kink , mutual feelings , HEAD PUSHER HOON YES YES YES , cum eating , not proof read

"sungie" you squeal , the feeling of sunghoons fingers squeezing your waist results in a loud laugh to sound from the back of your throat. sunghoons deep, raspy chuckles make a deep heat pool in the pit of your stomach , a guilty feeling lingering on your conscience for thinking of him in the ways you do. the way his hands feel on your skin makes you feel light headed - whether it be from the tickling, or the fact that he was touching you at all - the answer was unknown , and quite frankly; you didn't care enough to know.

as you lay beneath him, your legs attempt to kick his body away from yours - your hands find their way to his broad shoulders in order to push him back. but as you lay under him squealing his name - everything around you begins to feel rapidly hot , and sunghoon feels the exact same way.

the way his big hands swallow the entirety of your waist , your little legs desperately fighting against him, and the way his name spills past your lips.

all he wants to do is kiss them to shut you up, fuck you raw right there, make you scream his name, begging for him to grant you release.

suddenly, the memory of different girls begins to flash through his mind ; all the different times he's had multiple women screeching his name , begging him to fuck them faster - harder . but as of right now, the only woman he can truly adore to the fullest extent was already writhing underneath him.... but not in the ways he wants.

sunghoon comes back to his senses once he hears you whisperly call his name, a perfect little string of music that flows right into his ears that snaps him out of his lustful daze.

"s-sungie...?" you question, your round, doe eyes looking up at him through your eyelashes. sunghoon can feel himself tighten in his jeans, making him uncomfortable.

"how many girls have you had under you like this..." the question slips from your lips without consciousness , making you instantly shut your mouth , regret beginning to pool in your mind.

sunghoons face instantly changes , his eyes holding the utmost sincerity... sadness at the mention of the other women.

"... 'm sorry.." you whisper, your eyes darting away from him in order to look at something - anything else but him. sunghoon sighs and sits up, you following in pursuit. the two of you awkwardly sit next to eachother, the silence lingering in the air above you.

sunghoon chuckles before speaking, making you look at him in confusion.

"well, if im honest... too many to count really. i don't remember a good handful of them.." he smirks slightly at you, making a deep blush rise to your cheeks.

"so... you're experienced??" you question, making sunghoon tongue the inside of his cheek. he stretches one arm around you in order to rest on the couch, his legs spreading apart... inviting.

"yeah, i guess you can say i am... now; how about we get back to studying... you have a test coming up, dont you?" you respond with a head nod, making the man next to you grab a textbook from off the coffee table and handing it to you.

your glasses are perched on the tip of your nose , so you push them up.

you were a freshman in college, and the transition from highschool to university life was definitely kicking your ass. of course, you had always been keen to school life; you enjoyed it really. you loved learning new things and carrying around cute school supplies, it made you feel good about yourself whenever you learned something new... made you feel smart... so you kept going on with your love for learning into your early college years.

sunghoon, on the otherhand, was a couple years older than you; a senior in college. although he a couple years older, that didn't stop the two of you from being inseparable from an early age.

around an hour later, you hear sunghoon groan from the other side of the couch, pushing his glasses up and over his head.

"i'm not understanding, y/n... why on earth would you major in something so difficult... i don't even understand this and i've been in college longer than you have.” his messy hair being pushed back makes him look ten times more attractive.

"i dunno... i guess i just wanted a challenge." you shrug your shoulders, making the man across from you deadpan.

"whatever, lets just take a break and come back to it in a bit" he says, grabbing the book and pen from out of your hands and setting them back down on the coffee table. as sunghoon reaches over, you take note of his appearance; rolled up sleeves that stop right above his elbow, disheveled hair, tired eyes, and full lips.

as sunghoon turns to you, a deep shade of pink arises on your cheeks. you look away from him, trying not to seem awkward.

"so, y/n.. tell me; have you had sex yet?" you nearly scream at his words, choking on your own spit as soon as they leave his mouth. you turn and face him ominously, your face completely red and your eyes as wide as the moon.

"what on earth... why are you asking me this?" you squeal, hitting his bicep. sunghoon chuckles at your flustered state, his heart swelling in his chest at your actions.

"i'm just asking, come on you're in college... you had to have lost your v-card by now" he taunts, but quickly loses all sort of amusement laced in his expression once you turn to face your lap, playing with your fingers.

"well... there is this guy i like... but we havent done anything yet. im too scared. i dont know what im doing..." you look up into his eyes through your eyelashes, not turning your head to face him. sunghoon leans back into the cushions of the couch, spreading his arms to dangle on both sides of the back of the piece of furniture. sunghoon raises his eyebrows, urging you to continue.

"i- i was.. uhm... wondering if-- i don't know... you could possibly teach me..?" your voice was small... but sunghoon heard it as clear as day. now it was his turn to choke on his spit, completely flustered by your question.

he quickly gets his act together, smirking at your shy demeanor. you feel helpless under his gaze, quickly regretting your question.

"you don't have to, it was a dumb question im sor-"

"what would you like me to teach you, love?" he asks, his eyes never leaving your smaller figure. you raise your head completely, your hands still fidgeting with your fingers in your lap. you ponder for a moment, debating on how to answer his question before speaking once more.

"i want... i want to know how to suck.. uhm,, god this is so dumb.." you sadly chuckle to yourself with a shake of your head, breaking eye contact. sunghoon eyes you for a moment, instantly knowing what you wish to know.

"you wanna know how to suck cock?" you nod your head slowly, stunned at his straightforwardness. sunghoon eyes you for a moment more before lifting one of his hands up, motioning with his index finger for you to come to him; so you do.

"come here" your feet patter on the cool hardwood floor, stopping to stand in front of sunghoons spread legs. the man chuckles from below you, his hands coming in contact with the back of your thighs right below your ass.

"are you sure you wanna do this" you instantly nod your head without a second thought, wanting nothing more than for sunghoon to teach you how to pleasure a man,,,

the very one who sits before you , actually

at your words, he instantly brings you to sit on his lap, your knees meeting with the plush cushioning of the couch on either side of his hips. your face is mere centimeters away from his, your breaths fanning one another’s face.

"first... you don't want to just jump straight into it. both men and women need some sort of foreplay.. and the easiest version of that is kissing; a makeout session really." the two of you stare at eachother for a moment, one of sunghoons hands comes up to push a stray hair away from your face and behind your ear. your heart is beating out of your chest, your head feeling light and he hasnt even touched you yet.

"can i kiss you?" sunghoon asks, which makes your stomach erupt in butterflies. you shakingly exhale before nodding your head without saying anything. the man above you looks down at your lips before trailing them back up towards your wide eyes - eyeballing you shamelessly.

sunghoon slowly brings your lips to his own, the heat pooling in the pit of your abdomen deepening significantly the moment his mouth collides with yours softly. your lips are full and glossy, but is quickly smeared thanks to sunghoon.

after a long second, the two of you pull away to breathe... looking at eachother fully, longingly. the tension in the room as thick as ice is quickly cut, sunghoons hand cupping your cheek brings your face down frantically - your guys' lips meeting eachother once more... but this time its much different.

you feel both of his hands move to the slope of your waist, pulling you into him further - your back arching and your body curling into his front.

your hands slide up from his shoulders in order to wrap around his neck, your fingers lacing in with his dark hair. your breasts press up against his chest, and your lips move perfectly in sync with his.

the sounds of your heavy breathing fill the room along with sloppy lip smacking, but neither of you complain. sunghoons hands move your hips down onto his lap, the bulge quickly tightening in his jeans. you gasp when you feel his hardening length press right up against your clothed pussy, your fingers tightening in his hair cause him to groan into the cavern of your wet mouth.

you shiver under his touch, his fingers feather light as you curl into him deeper. every inch of your body yerns for the man above you, making a whimper escape your lips.

the kiss quickly deescalates as you pull away from sunghoons lips in order for air - but not before he pecks your lips a couple times. he leans back into the couch, the two of you exchanging aching, yearnful glances. your heavy breathing matches his - your chests' rising and falling in unison.

"sunghoon..." your eyes are half lidded as you speak, and it begins to drive sunghoon up the wall. he admires the adorable look on your face , everything about you is perfect and it frustrates him beyond belief. although he is experienced, he feels like a teenage boy having his first makeout session.

"yeah baby?" he calls out to you breathlessly, making your pussy clench. you dont break eye contact as you speak, making a shiver run up sunghoons spine.

"can i suck your cock... please..?" you ask nicely, in an almost pleading tone. it takes every ounce of restraint in order to stop himself from bending you over the couch and stuffing you full of his cum, fucking it deeper and deeper inside you - permanently marking you as his.

his woman.

"of course you can doll, go right ahead" he leans further back into the couch, getting a full view of you perched cutely in his lap - your skirt riding up your thighs and your zip-up hoodie falling off one of your shoulders.

you slowly get off the mans lap, a prominent bulge showing in his jeans. your mouth waters at the sight, excitement flowing through your veins. as you sink to your knees, you maintain eyecontact with the man above you, your pussy clenching around nothing at his lustful gaze.

your hands work at his zipper, pulling his pants down past his ankles. the tent in his boxers grows exponentially bigger, and you can tell that he's fucking huge. you stop to stare at him, eyeballing the outline of his dick through his underwear.

on instinct, you reach a hand out in order to palm him through the flimsy fabric of his boxers - making sunghoon hiss from above you. your eyes don't look away from his length, not for a second as you jerk him off slightly. a prominent wet patch begins to form on the light color of his underwear, making a gasp leave your lips.

"did i... did i make you.. already..?" you gawk up at him, making a laugh bubble up from his chest. you tilt your head to the side in question, and sunghoon finds it so fucking adorable at the realization of how innocent you actually are.

"no baby... thats just precum, you really don't know anything huh? how can you be so smart yet naive at the same time?" he taunts jokingly, mimicking your actions and tilting his head to the side.

you deadpan at the man, an unentertained look spreading across your face. without looking away, you bring your fingers to the tip of his dick, wrapping your hands around his head and squeezing slightly, making more precum stain his boxers.

sunghoon hisses, letting out a string of loud curses at your actions. you smile to yourself slightly, finding it funny just how fast you can make him fall apart in your hands.

you gasp at the feeling of one of his hands in your hair, yanking your head back slightly in order to make your eyes meet with his. every ounce of playfulness leaves your body as the older man stares into your eyes , a threatening look lingering written on his face

"don't be a brat. understand?" you pout your lips, but nod your head anyways. sunghoon leans down in order to kiss the tip of your nose before letting you go gently.

"good girl" he compliments, making your cheeks flush for the nth time that evening. your hands reach up to the waistline of his boxers, slowly pulling them down his legs and past his ankles. sunghoons pretty cock springs free, shooting up to slap his abdomen, his bulbous tip hitting right at his belly button.

fat, pearly drops of precum leak from his tip and down his shaft, making your eyes widen. you were right; he is huge. you gawk at the length, making his ego swell.

"never seen a dick before, huh?" you shake your head no, at least not in person.. one of your hands reaching up in order to softly grab the base of his cock in your hands. sunghoon observes your actions intently, his eyes burning holes into your skull. your hand lightly wraps around his cock, squeezing his length slightly. it takes you a moment; but you begin to pump him. you watch as more pearly beads of precum leak out of his tip, finding the sight mesmerizing.

after pumping his dick for a little bit, you bring your lips closer to the tip of his shaft, sticking your tongue out slightly in order to kitten lick the slit of his head.

sunghoon has had his dick sucked many times before... but with the way you keep looking up at him through his eyelashes - searching for any sort of validation that you're doing a good job is making him feel like a virgin again.

only you could have this sort of effect on him. he could just about reach down his throat and rip his heart out and give it to you on a silver platter.

you kitten lick his tip over and over - getting used to the salty taste of his warm seed before you take the head of his dick into your mouth completely. the warmth that your velvety, wet mouth provides makes him shudder under your gaze, his eyes rolling back into his skull ever so slightly. you attempt to take his cock deeper into your mouth, but the odd taste of his salty precum makes you gag around his length - you quickly pull off of him and cough , not used to the feeling of him being in your throat in the slightest.

sunghoon finds your actions cute - his ego expanding ever so slightly.

"god... its so- its so much.." you say in heavy breaths, trying to compose yourself. sunghoon looks down at you, his eyes holding admiration.

"its okay baby, take your time okay? this is normal. you've never sucked anybody off before. its alright, go nice and slow.." his voice trails off as you take his head back into your mouth, attempting to get used to his taste even more. you hollow your cheeks, your tongue swirling around his tip as you begin to bob your head up and down slightly - almost as if you were sucking on the tip of a lolipop.

every time you pull yourself off of his dick, your tongue runs over the slit of his tip, gathering his precum on your tongue. you look up at sunghoon - your doe eyes making direct eye contact with his as you lick down his entire length, running your tongue down the underside of his cock.

"fuck just like that.." he moans at the feeling of your tongue and the sinful sight of your eyes and actions - he feels like he could bust right then and there all over your face and he would enjoy it to the fullest.

"s-so fucking good... good girl" you're making it hard to believe you've never done this, but it's the truth. you take his tip into your mouth once more, your head moving up and down as you begin to suck him off again. one of your hands moves towards the base of his dick, gripping it in your hand as you begin to jerk off the remaining length you haven't fit into your mouth yet.

you hear another moan sound from just above you, making your confidence sky rocket. your hand and mouth move around him, the combined slick of your saliva and his precum making the perfect lubricant in order to have him shaking in your hold.

"god fucking... fuck. just like that... doin' such a good job.." at the sound of his praise, you start to take his length deeper down your throat, your eyes watering at the weird feeling. you breathe in deeply through your nose, adjusting to the newfound feeling. you swallow around him, making sunghoon buck his hips into your face on accident. you gag around him, but decide to continue on. your head bobs faster up and down sunghoons cock, your hand that was previously jerking him off coming down to grip his balls in your hands - fondling and playing with them.

"oh my fucking god, takin' my cock so well.." he praises. the dampness in your eyes falls freely down your warm, flushed cheeks but you could care less. as you breathe in through your nose, you swallow around him again, making sure to keep your cheeks hollowed while your tongue runs along the vein that trails down on the underside of his cock.

one of sunghoons hands comes down to wrap itself in your hair, his fingers tugging on your colored locks. at first, he just keeps his hand in your hair - but as you keep using your pretty little mouth in all the ways that you do ; he begins to push your head up and down .

a hum leaves your throat, which in turn sends vibrations throughout sunghoons entire body.

"s-shit-" he curses, the grip in your hair tightening significantly before he forces you to take his dick deeper, his bulbous tip hitting the back of your throat. you attempt to cough around his length, your nose coming down to press snugly against his pelvis.

you swallow around him again, more tears escaping your eyes as you try your best not to disappoint him. sunghoon just about falls apart from under you; his hips sputtering against your face in a sloppy grinding rhythm that has you gripping his thighs to ground yourself.

after a moment, sunghoon loosens his hold on you, letting you come up for air.

but the way you keep bobbing your head up and down on his cock takes him by surprise.

"s-so warm.. god you're perfect" your mouth comes up to suck on his tip once more, and before you can even look up to see his reaction - you feel his cock twitch in your mouth

"im- im gonna cum fuck... where do you want me baby?" you've heard of girls swallowing their boyfriends cum before, so it cant be so bad right? you keep your glossy lips wrapped around his tip as you suck down a little rougher, your hand coming down to play with his balls once more. you hear a raspy 'fuck' before you feel his salty, warm cum shoot into your mouth.

you instantly regret your decision, the taste being unfamiliar and weird has you gagging and shaking your head - but your ego tells you to continue, so you do.

you take his load into your mouth before detaching from his head, his dick beginning to soften ever so slightly. sunghoon looks down at you before he raises his hand to grab your face lightly inbetween his fingers. your lips part slightly, making a couple drops of his cum drip down your chin.

"god you're perfect... you wanna spit it out love?" you ponder for a second, but ultimately decide on swallowing his load. your face contorts into a sour expression, showing your distaste. sunghoon coos at you, a soft laugh sounding from his mouth.

"you're so fucking adorable, you didn't have to swallow sweetheart..." he pouts, making you smile slightly.

"i wanted to, i thought that was normal..... it tasted- weird." you giggle, and sunghoon leans down to kiss your forehead as he cups your cheek.

"now... how about i show you something else too, huh?" you shoot him a questioning look before he lifts you up onto the cough, laying you down so your back is flush against the cushions of the couch. you look up at sunghoon and wrap your arms around his shoulders before he leans down to kiss you, taking your lips in his.

you feel his hands sneak down to your waist, pinning your body down against the couch. his lips move in a steady, perfect rhythm with his that has you quietly whimpering into his mouth. the man detaches from your lips only to start trailing wet kisses down the skin of your neck.

your eyes flutter closed at the feeling of him sucking deep purple hickeys into your skin, desperate moans filling the air around you.

"s-sung..." he hums at the sound of his name leaving your lips, acknowledging you quietly. the man then trails his kisses down your body tauntingly slow before he reaches the waistband of your little skirt.

sunghoon looks up at you through his eyebrows before kissing your pelvis bone through the fabric of your skirt. your chest heaves up and down in short, frantic breaths once you feel his cold hands slide up the sides of your thighs , trailing them upwards and under your skirt.

"can i take this off?" you rapidly blink, questioning his motives.

"hoon... w-wait i thought... you were- i thought..." he cocks his eyebrows up, making your wetness pool in your panties.

"will you let me show you what it feels like to have your pussy ate, my love? want hoonie to make you feel good?" you ponder for a second, hesitating on the thought.

"what if.. what if i taste bad or i can't finish,,, or-"

"baby, i don't care. let me taste this pretty pussy, yeah? wanna let sungie fuck you with his tongue? split you apart?" you whimper at his vulgar words, your eyes fluttering closed while you shake your head yes.

at the confirmation, he slides the fabric of your skirt down and passed your ankles, throwing it down on the ground to be forgotten. sunghoon refocuses his attention to the prominent wet patch littering the pink lacy underwear.

"god, you're so wet already and i haven't even touched you" he teases you through half lidded eyes, the cold pad of his finger coming in contact with your clothed clit. you whine at his actions, the butterflies in your stomach making your head cloud over with nothing but the dirty, vile thoughts of everything you want sunghoon to do to you.

the way he gently starts to massage shapes into your bundle of nerves has you quietly speaking his name, your hands coming down to bunch his hair inbetween your fingers.

sunghoon pushes your panties to the side, his fingers slipping through your wet folds. a hiss sounds from just below your hips, the feeling of your slick dripping through his fingers is indescribable.

"such a pretty pussy" he eyeballs you, making you feel shy underneath his lingering gaze.

your clit twitches repeatedly thanks to the gentle friction he creates, your back arching off the couch in order to help your hips grind into his hand.

after a moment, you feel sunghoon plunge a long finger into your pussy, your mouth slacking open in a perfect O shape as moans and whimpers dance off your tongue in a beautiful chant, all for sunghoon and sunghoon alone.

"how does it feel, angel face?" his breath fans your pussy as he speaks, and all coherent thoughts fall out of your brain as quickly as they come.

"s-s' good,,- feels s' good please" you squeak, your thighs spreading apart even further to grant him more access.

"so tight, perfect little virgin pussy all spread out just for me" his free hand comes down to peel your panties further to the side, his tongue darting out in order to lick a stripe up your wet slit, gathering your juices on his tongue.

"tastes so sweet, my sweetest girl" your face flushes at his words, but your hips grind up into his face once he wraps his lips around your clit in order to suck down on the bundle of nerves.

"oh my god" you squeal at the newfound feeling, your heart beating out of your chest so rapidly, you're convinced it could burst at any given moment.

"sucking in my finger so perfectly, i don't think you can take any more baby" you shake your head no, but the prominent pout on his lips taunts you into thinking you can take just a little more.

sunghoon adds another finger swiftly into your hole, stretching you even more with his his slender fingers. you hiss at the stretch, trying your hardest to adjust to the newfound sensation that radiates throughout your body in ripples. the way sunghoons tongue laps at your heat as if he were desperately searching for the last sip of water drives you insane - he cant help himself , you're just too fucking sweet.

"i feel weird, hoonie i- i cant , feels s' weird" your eyes squeeze shut as white-hot pleasure shoots through your veins . your fingers tug on his hair harsly and your hips buck up into his mouth, everything begins to feel hot and overstimulating, a thin layer of sweat forming on the skin of your forehead.

"let it happen sweet, you gonna cum for me?" he asks, even though he already has his answer the moment his fingers find the sweetspot that adorns your velvety, tight walls.

"please, please please please a-ah" his teeth biting down on your clit send you into overdrive - your abdomen tightens as the string in your tummy snaps - juices squirting all over the lower half of sunghoons face as your pussy squeezes his digits tightly.

"there you go, look so so pretty when you're makin' a mess all over me... my pretty little cum slut, hmm" his eyes widen as you cream around his fingers, white gooey slick oozing from your hole where his fingers fuck you apart sloppily.

"sun-sungie fuck" your hips and thighs jolt in his hold, and you can feel yourself come crashing down from your high at lightening speed. as your body relaxes into sunghoon, he pulls his fingers out of your fluttering hole.

"god you're absolutely perfect"

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jefth3kilr · 3 months ago

Text

naruto boys and one of their random and insanely specific kinks (lol) 🍃🎋

Includes: Kakashi; Gai; Jiraiya; naruto; sasuke; kiba; shino; neji; lee; shikamaru; gaara; kankuro

warnings: NSFW (MINORS DNI) bit of bdsm and rougher topics all charecters are aged up!! naruto and students are around 19-20

not proof read! requests are open!!!

Kakashi

power play.

I know it might seem a little ooc, but trust, I feel like he'd be really into power play.

and while yes he loves it when you call him master and get all obedient for him; I also think he would really like calling you mistress and submitting to you.

Like yes he will definitely get on his knees and kiss your legs and 'earn' your permission to fuck you. He's down for all that freaky shit.

but if you tell anyone about this he'd probably jump off the nearest building LMAO he would get so embarrassed.

Gai

praise praise praise.

please praise him LMAO.

Gai already likes praise in general, but praise from you!? he's already nutting in his pants.

Also I'm giving him another: fake rivalry.

Clearly Gai is obsessed with having a rival (cough cough Kakashi)

So if y'all kinda role-play and pretend to be rivals while fucking, he will be so hype. He would feel accomplished lolll

Jiraiya

Exhibitionism

I mean like what the hell doesn't turn Jiraiya on?

I think that he definitely likes being a little public with it, it exciting and it also turns him on knowing he's the only who can do this to you.

I don't think he'd like having full on naked sex out int he open, but he would definitely like teasing you and stuff.

Jiraiya would definitely put one of those wireless remote control vibrators in your before taking a 'nice' walk around the village at night. He would random turn it on, messing with the intensity constantly before turning it off again. It would suck for you, but he loves watching you fall apart and have trouble walking.

He also makes out with you in public. sorry not sorry. He doesn't care who tf y'all are in front of off, he will kiss you silly wherever and whenever he wants.

Oh in bar bathrooms...for get about it. You've probably been bent over evert bathroom counter int he village at least twice by now. You'd think because of his age he wouldn't have so much stamina....but trust he does.

Naruto

Breathing

Naruto is so happy that you chose him a lover, so it only makes sense that he obsessed with everything about you. And the loves listening to you breathe.

While yes, it helps him fall asleep and night to hear your sleepy breathing and listen to your heart beat in your chest.

But it also heavily turns him on when he sees your chest deeply heave after your coming down from your high And it definitely turns him on to hear your breathy, desperate, little gasps when your trying to reach that said high.

Like yes please make out with him and breathe in his ear while your hump this shit out of him. He goes crazy for stuff like that.

After your done with a training session, and your breathing all heard and your chest is going up and down, expect Naruto to drag you to the nearest bathroom LMAO.

Sasuke

his ears

hear me out

Sasuke's ears are sooo sensitive, but he would rather die than admit it.

One day you decide to test out something you read; something about how licking the other shell of someone's ear can be hot. So while you and Sasuke are making out, you test it out. And he will dead ass cum in his pants. From then on, you do it all the time.

If your want to tease him, whisper something in his ear, even if it's super casual. Just feeling your lips by his ear and listening to your soft voice is enough to drive him up the wall.

And if you nip his ear...he's a goner.

Shikamaru

Sexting

I mean Shikamaru is like super lazy, so texting each other becomes a very common thing. Even if y'all are in the same house, cuddling each other on the same damn bed, he will still text you instead of actually talking. (he claims it saves his energy)

Surprisingly, Shika is really good at dirty talk, he just doesn't do it because he's lazy. But texting you all that dirty talk...he can def do that.

You'll be in class and get a text from him, expecting just a casual 'wyd' message and instead get a whole paragraph like: 'when your get home I'm gonna ******* and the I'm gonna ******** you're so fucking **** I can't wait to *****.' you can never catch a break with this guy.

And if you lock eyes with him in class after reading that, he will look super casual LMAO

Kiba

scent.

i mean we all know Kiba has a crazy sense of smell, so obviously he would be able to track your scent no matter where you are. so he knows what you smell like. he knows how your natural musk is and what your perfume smells like too.

Kiba would definitely know right away if you switched perfumes. he’d probably pout about it at first because he liked the other one but after a couple of days he’ll get used to it. also if you wear too much of it, expect him to sneeze A LOT.

but anyway, he loves to smell you during sex. wether that be shoving his face into the crook of your neck and taking in your scent, or being all gross and sniffing your panties (which you always yell at him for but you secretly like it) he LOVES your scent.

sometimes, when he’s really desperate for you, he’ll beg you to let him smell you.

“Just a sniff baby, i need it. I need you.”

how can you say no to him when he’s looking at you with those sad puppy eyes? 🥺

Shino

hickeys

since no one can really see his neck because of his big ass coat, feel free to leave as many as possible.

I think he finds it very romantic to be able to mark each other like that. He also finds the feeling very sensual to kiss and suck on someone's neck. He also enjoys that's feeling on himself.

If you were to ever to show off your hickeys, wearing nothing but a tank top outside in public. He would pass tf out LMAO he loves it.

He's secretly very possessive.

Neji

hair pulling.

this goes both ways.

First of all, he has that long ass hair. I also feel like Neji can get a bit bossy sometimes, so if you want him to shut the hell up, just pull him by his hair.

The first time you did it, it was probably an accident. But when you saw his blushing face and a tent forming in his pants, you knew you had to do that again.

I also feel like Neji is a bit quiet during sex, but trust if you pull on his hair, he will start moaning like a girl.

But second; he also loves to pull your hair. When he's feeling extra dominant and he wants you to submit, he will definitely pull your head back by your hair while giving your the nastiest back shots known to man kind.

He is also the type to put your hair into a makeshift ponytail while you blow him.

Lee

Overstimulation.

I think Lee really likes it when you guys treat sex like training. (I read a fic about this lmao)

Like please let him finger you into oblivion, it gives him a good arm workout. But don't expect to be done after he's made you cum 5 times on his fingers, he still needs to work out the other arm too!

Lee is someone who can NEVVERRR do a quickie, since he has so much stamina from training, he can go round and round after round.

Literally, you could have done like 9 rounds and he is still amped up on energy.

And do NOT squirt around him, he be determined to make your squirt at least 6 more times before letting you take a break.

But of course, if you really need a break or want to stop, he will gladly give you as much time as you need, he's still a sweet boy. (call him sweet boy and he will nut instantly)

Gaara

dry humping

sometimes it just takes so much energy to get fully unclothed and actually commit to having sex. Also since Gaara isn't a super sexual person in the sense that he doesn't really like to get undress and all that other stuff, dry humping is such a good alternative.

I also HC that Gaara is a bit submissive, I mean he will def Dom you sometimes but regular he will usually submit to you and listen to you (bc you love him and he feels like this is a way he can prove that he loves u too)

Imagine after a long day, your both exhausted but still so pent up. So your just in his lap, grinding away while your heavily makeout and pull at each other's hair. Trust he will be nutting in his pants.

And if you also whisper sweet nothings to him...he's done for.

Kankuro

bondage

need i say more?

trust he will tie you up with his chakra strings and eat you out until your sobbing....

He definitely finds it hot that your comfortable enough with him to allow him to tie you up and be at his mercy (he also lokey has a power complex soooo)

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uncannydevotion · 7 months ago

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“ we haven't found one lipstick that's kiss proof! ”

a/n: based on tht one art meme going around iykyk anyways happy holidays, and merry christmas if u celebrate! nd happy day to everyone else! enjoy this lil gift <3 i wanted to get it out today so it might b a little rushed, and definitely shorter than i would like but i still like it so. i'm posting it.

includes: homicidal liu, eyeless jack, jason the toymaker, nina the killer, and jeff the killer.

warnings: gn!reader but it's assumed u wear lipstick, italics my beloved, so much fluff it'll make u sick, lots of kissing. is kiss even a word anymore. it's short, with varying different lengths, and it's sweet this time for real i promise.

HOMICIDAL LIU

Perhaps a bit confused when you ask him to help find some kiss proof lipsticks, but nonetheless willing to help. He just assumes you wanted to go out to a cosmetic store or something to find some.

He's very confused when you drag him over to the couch and tell him to stay put while you gather every tube of lipstick you have.

He's oblivious guys okay you're his first relationship ever how is he supposed to know you're about to smother him to death with kisses?

Liu will be a bit caught off guard when you place the first kiss on his cheek, your lips gentle, mindful of the sensitive skin surrounding his scars.

"What was that for?" He'll ask. And maybe you'll give a cheeky smile and respond with something like, "I'm just testing out my lipstick, babe."

And oh. Oh. That's what you meant when you said you wanted his help.

Liu is nothing if not the greatest boyfriend haver, so even though he gets increasingly more flustered with each kiss you press against his skin, he stays painfully still so as to not interrupt you.

Every time you pressed a kiss against his skin, he'd let out a little sigh. It was rare for him to ever really feel at ease, but it came easy with you.

Sometimes, he wonders if you truly understood the gravity of the love he felt for you.

Each kiss makes his heart race faster and faster, so much so that when you place one last kiss against his lips, he's so overwhelmed by the amount of love he holds for you that Sully thinks he's fucking dying and takes over.

Sully is very confused when he finds that Liu was, in fact, not dying. And you're certainly no help, just smiling and telling him to wash his face off as you clean up.

What.

One look in the mirror gives him the answer he was looking for. His entire face was covered in lipstick stains. This is what had Liu's heart racing so much? Sully really thought he was dying, man.

Turns out the guy is just an idiot in love.

EYELESS JACK

One of the only ones here to really understand what you meant when you asked him for help in finding a kiss proof lipstick, already taking his mask off.

He didn't have anything better to do, and he liked how your eyes lit up when he agreed, so.

He'll sit patiently, watching as you set out all of your lipsticks, setting them out in a color-coded pattern.

Jack will take this very seriously, I think. You won't really be able to get him flustered, because he's determined to figure out if you have any kiss proof lipstick. He's a man on a mission.

Every time you kiss him, he'll pull away from you and look at himself in a mirror to study how visible the stain is. The less he can see it, the better he thinks the lipstick is.

If anything, he'll end up flustering you from the way he'll grab your cheeks and press his thumb against your lip, rubbing the lipstick gently to see how much pressure it takes for it to transfer.

He's not doing this on purpose, he just... doesn't realize the effect he has on you. But between you and me, he's 100% teasing you.

He's the one covered in kisses, and yet you're the one shying away from him and getting all embarrassed. Seems your plan to fluster him backfired.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" You would ask.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. You're the one who asked for help." Would be his response.

Somehow you end up with more marks on your skin than he does?? Since you get to kiss him a bunch, he doesn't see why he can't kiss you back. And maybe he bites a lil, idk.

This will either end with you scurrying away, or with him pouncing you and abandoning the lipstick. Make your choice.

JASON THE TOYMAKER

He's busy tinkering with a new creation when you enter his workshop carrying every single lipstick you own.

He's too focused on his own work to really pay attention to you, so he just mutters a vague 'yeah' when he hears you ask a question, not really catching anything you said.

Jason's only vaguely aware that you're in the same room as him as he leans forward, brows pinched together as he focuses on stitching up a small stuffed animal.

It's not until he feels you resting your hand on his shoulder, pulling him back slightly and pressing a kiss against his cheek that he's brought to reality.

Just sits there, confused for the longest second, his hand coming up to his cheek where he had felt your lips. He's not against the sudden affection by any means, he's just a bit curious as to why you were suddenly giving him so many kisses.

When you explain how you're trying to find kiss proof lipstick, he lets out a small 'oh' and he goes back to his work.

Or, at least, he tries to get back to his work.

But you continue placing little kisses against his skin every few minutes, and it's making it really hard to focus, and he can feel his face getting hotter and hotter the longer this goes on.

Jason fucking loves you, okay? He tells you it multiple times a day. You are the one for him. So you smothering him with a bunch of kisses has him feeling all soft and gooey inside.

Whatever the hell he was working on before was no longer important to him, his gaze now seemingly glued to you and every little move you make as he leans back in his chair, basking in your attention.

Like hell he'll let you leave when you run out of lipstick.

You doomed yourself the moment you walked into his workshop to even start this little game.

He'll be dragging you down onto his lap and will refuse to let you go until he's had his fill of you. Which could be like... all day. Jason could never get tired of you.

NINA THE KILLER

Hell yeah!! She's been meaning to go through her lipsticks too, so she takes this as an opportunity to do that.

She definitely makes it into a game as well, I think.

You two will trade lipsticks without looking at the labels, and you'd both have to guess who was wearing what lipstick based on the shade and the feel.

The two of you trade kisses, lipstick stains covering her cheeks and your jaw and neck.

She really did just want to find a kiss proof lipstick, but each kiss had her letting out a small giggle.

And she knew you were teasing her, always leaning in for her lips before dodging and pressing another kiss against her cheek.

All that teasing had her feeling flustered, and she just wanted you to stop messing around and kiss her lips already. So when you put on a new thing of lipstick, she doesn't even give you a chance to do anything before she's pulling you closer and slamming her lips against yours.

You probably planned for this to happen, she thinks, but she didn't really care much.

You don't need an excuse to kiss her silly, you just gotta do it.

And when the two of you finally break the kiss, you're both breathless. Lipstick stains your skin, and both of your lips were smeared.

Nina didn't even care about the little game you two had been playing anymore, her hands resting on your cheeks.

She thought you looked stunning like this.

And it's not like you two had any pressing matters to attend to, so she didn't hesitate before leaning in for another kiss.

JEFF THE KILLER

When you had asked him for help with finding a 'kiss proof' lipstick, he honestly didn't understand why. Like... did you want him to put the lipstick on and kiss napkins with you? And why would you need his help doing that anyways?

He would've said no, if you hadn't asked really nicely.

Definitely grumbling about how dumb he thought this was as you get everything together.

Someone would probably assume you had a gun to his head or something from the way he looked as if he didn't want to be there, arms crossed and somehow frowning even though his scars made it look strange.

It really isn't until you place the first kiss against his cheek that he finally shuts up.

Oh. So this is what you had planned?

Truth be told, Jeff wasn't that big a fan of affection unless he was initiating it, but... he supposes he could let it slide, just this once. Especially after you press another kiss to his cheek.

You could never get this man to admit that he's enjoying this, but it's not like he was doing a good job at hiding it, either.

The frown he had was gone, replaced by a smile he was barely able to conceal. Do not point out the smile, he will leave the room if you do.

Each kiss you give him makes his heart race faster and faster, and when you're wiping off the last lipstick you have, talking about how you've yet to find a kiss proof one, Jeff is an utter mess.

He's got his face buried in his hands, cursing to himself for being so weak when it came to you.

Fuck, he really loves you.

#creepypasta x reader #homicidal liu x reader #eyeless jack x reader #jason the toymaker x reader #nina the killer x reader #jeff the killer x reader #was this entire thing an excuse to write liu flustered...#perhaps.....

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rafeslittlepup · 2 months ago

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sexist!rafe in an alpha male podcast pt. 2

father’s day special: “back again with the king of discipline, dominance, and… domesticity?”

host 1: we had to bring back the rafe cameron for this one. father of four, head of the household, enemy of seed oils, and living proof that testosterone still exists! so, the first time you came here, was definitely controversial man

rafe (while popping a zyn): i’m not here to be liked, i’m here to raise men, and love my wife

host 2: and by the way, bro’s got the wife. like, dude’s wife wears aprons and makes homemade jam. what’s is this, 1955?

rafe: that’s what she wants. a good man lets his woman be soft, y’know, i built her a world where she doesn’t have to carry groceries or opinions.

host 2: she made that “what my husband eats in a day” tiktok and i literally teared up.

rafe (while laughing): yeah, she loves it. and my boys, they see that. they watch how i treat their mama. i kiss her on the head, i open every door, and i pay every single bill. they know what real love looks like. and let me make one thing very clear: i don’t raise friends. i raise sons. you think i’m gonna let my boy talk back to his mama? over my dead body… your kid doesn’t need a “buddy.” he needs a man to fear until he’s man enough to understand.

host 1: but you- you got the little girl too, right?

rafe: yeah, rosie. angel on earth. that’s my girl, not dating ‘til she’s married.

host 1: the bunnywife blessing, i guess. every man wants one, only real men get one.

rafe: if you want a bunnywife, you better act like a fucking grizzly bear. not one of these oat milk boys crying on tiktok.

the outro music is some southern rock riff with baby giggles and a shotgun

💬

@Bros4Bunny: This man is the reason i started working out. I want a wife that smiles when i tell her what to wear. King Cameron.

@miss_ladylike: my dad says you’re the only man on the internet that makes sense

@Kyle_Lifts: Need this man to start a fatherhood bootcamp

#𝜗𝜚 mine #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron blurb #sexist!rafe #rafe cameron headcanons #redpilled!rafe

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v1kastr4p · 2 months ago

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untied and unraveled

pt.2 to tied and teased

tags: power exchange, brat-taming, pussy spanking, penetration, refers to strap as cock, slight cnc, rough angry fucking

you’re so goddamn proud of yourself.

straddling sevika’s lap, your fingers are still buried inside her, knuckles glistening with the proof of your power. you just made her beg. sevika. the enforcer. the baddest bitch in zaun. her muscles were shaking, teeth gritted, hips rutting into your hand until the ropes creaked and the chair nearly gave out.

you grin down at her, drunk on the high of control. it felt nice.

she’s panting. her skins flushed and slick with sweat and restraint. the ropes are still taut, flesh wrist red where you tied it too tight, her metal arm gleaming where it’s secured behind the beam. if looks could kill, you'd be twenty feet underground.

she shouldn’t be able to move.

so you think you’re safe. you think you’re still in charge.

she lets you think that.

lets you kiss her slow. tongue shallow. lets you moan a little like a bitch in heat while you grind on her thigh again, fingers curling sweet around her jaw like she’s your plaything.

your fatal fucking mistake?

you didn’t see the flash of movement when you leaned in or the shift of weight under you.

and you definitely didn’t feel the blade she'd hidden in the lining of her waistband. or hear the snick of metal sliding against rope. didn’t notice the flex of her bicep as the knot around her mechanical wrist gave way.

not until her hand snaps forward and grabs your throat.

“what the fuck,” she growls, voice low and lethal.

your breath chokes in your lungs. you gasp, frozen, thighs tensing. her other wrist rips free. the ropes go slack.

your eyes go wide.

“wait—how did you—”

“quiet,” she snarls, already lifting you like you weigh nothing.

and then you’re over her knee.

face-down. ass-up. hips suspended over thick thighs that feel more like a trap than a seat.

“you think i wouldn’t get outta that?” she snaps, voice sharp and furious in your ear, fingers dragging your panties down to your knees in one brutal tug. “three knots? you think three knots could hold me, doll?”

“i didn’t-sevika, fuck—!”

her hand comes down hard.

SMACK.

right over your dripping pussy.

you scream.

your thighs jerk, your body bucks, but her arm slams across your back, holds you down.

“you fucked around,” she growls, another slap, wetter this time, “now you’re finding out.”

SMACK.

you’re soaked. every hit makes it messier, obscenely loud.

“you think you can mock me?” another slap. “edge me?” another, harder. “leave me tied like some fucktoy while you grind your pretty little cunt on my thigh?”

“m’ sorry, i was just—!”

“what, baby?” her hand cups your pussy. slaps again. “just playing?”

you sob into the chair. she’s not even fucking you, just spanking your cunt over and over until your clit’s throbbing, your thighs twitching, and your body’s bucking in raw need.

“i begged,” she snarls, pressing the soaked mess of you down into her thigh, grinding her hand into your slick, “and you laughed. you made me beg, doll. so now?”

another slap. your hips jerk each time.

“now i’m gonna make you cry.”

she spanks your cunt until you’re sobbing, drooling, whining, begging, grinding into her hand like some overstimmed thing that forgot what mercy even was.

and she dosn’t give you time to recover.

you’re still slumped over her knee, dazed and slick and ruined from the spanking, when she drags you up by the back of your neck and throws you on the bed. your legs barely have the strength to keep you upright.

you try to look up to see what she’s doing.

and then you see it.

her strap.

not her regular one. this is a monster.

fat, black, heavy, thick as her fucking wrist. it’s strapped low on her hips, harness pulled tight. her abs flexed as she stepped forward, the head of the strap already slick with lube she spread on.

you scramble back on your elbows.

“woah—wait—”

she tilts her head, silver eyes dark and gleaming.

“you don't get to wait.”

she grabs your ankle, yanks you down the bed like you weigh nothing, spreads your legs and climbs between them, the fat head of that cock slapping heavy against your cunt with a wet, stinging smack.

“you wanted control,” she fists the base, lining it up. “you wanted to tie me up, run that bratty fuckin’ mouth, make me beg—”

she slaps your clit with the head again. “so now you’re gonna take what you’re fucking given.”

and she pushes in.

the length is thick and unrelenting. your cunt stretches wide, too fast, too much, the burn making your back arch, mouth falling open in a silent scream. her eyes scan over your face for signs of pain and finds none. just overwhelm.

you clutch at her arms, nails digging into her biceps.

“sev, fuck-it’s too much!”

“take it,” she grits. “you’re gonna fucking take all of it.”

and she keeps going.

inch by throbbing inch, forcing that cock in until she bottoms out. until your walls are quivering around the base and you’re shaking under her like a live wire.

you’ve never felt so full.

“look at this greedy little cunt,” she breathes, pulling out half an inch just to slam back in. “fucking swallowing it already.”

she grabs your jaw and forces your eyes open, making you watch her while she starts to fuck you. hard.

full, brutal, body-snapping thrusts, her hips slamming into yours with heavy, echoing smacks. your whole body jolts with each one, legs trembling, eyes rolling back, lips parted in a dazed, ruined moan.

“you feel that, baby?” she pants, fingers sliding down to rub your clit with cruel circles. each hard thrust kissed your cervix. “feel me in your fuckin’ guts?”

you sob.

“c-can’t, can’t take it—”

“yes you can,” she snarls, snapping her hips faster. “you took control. now you’re gonna take this cock.”

your orgasm crashes like a goddamn explosion, thighs shaking and eyes rolled back far. but she doesn’t stop.

“oh, you’re cumming? good. ‘cause i’m not done.”

she flips you one-handed, face down, ass up. her hands grabs your hips and drive back in without warning. you scream into the mattress, fists twisted in the sheets, tears streaming down your face as she fucks you like a wild animal, balls deep and ruthless.

“stretching so good for me,” she growls. “this tight little hole needed a lesson.”

your voice is gone. just sobs, moans, slutty whimpers as your cunt gushes around that cock and leaks down your thighs.

sevika doesn’t stop until your whole body’s shaking, voice is ruined, and your cunt’s so wrecked it can’t close around the strap anymore.

and when she finally pulls out slowly, you drip.

she smirks and slaps your ass.

“get comfortable, doll,” her hands adjust your hips again. “we’re just getting started.”

#sevika smut #sevika fanfic #sevika arcane #arcane #lesbian #sevika my love #arcane fanfic #sevika x you #sevika #jinx #lgbtq

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snail-day · 5 months ago

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I fear my baby fever has taken over the past few days, so I present you with the JJK men as fathers headcanons.

TW: Babies, Fluff, mentions of pregnancy, slight yandere behaviors.

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Sukuna

WC: 3k

a/n: I won’t get into the actual pregnancy details just yet—saving that for a later date (a rather soon date). Also wasn't expecting to yap so much about this. Enjoy!

Gojo Satoru

Oh dear. This poor man.

There are very few things in the world that can shake Satoru Gojo to his core. He has stared down curses beyond comprehension, fought battles that could wipe out cities, and held the weight of the world on his shoulders without so much as flinching.

But when he holds his baby for the first time?

Oh, he crumbles. Practically has to bite his lip to stop himself from outright sobbing, whole body stiff, breath caught in his throat, because how the hell is something so small, so warm, so unbelievably perfect? They’re not even cleaned off yet, and this man is already kissing their tiny head, his lips soft against their damp skin, murmuring thank yous like a prayer. To you, to the universe, to whatever god decided that he—a man who has lost too much—was allowed to have something this precious.

Don’t you worry, there will be a celebration. A sushi boat is being delivered as soon as possible (as if you weren’t already expecting that).

However, here’s the thing, Satoru was already clingy before.

Now? Now he’s unbearable. Words cannot describe how this man refuses to let you leave his eyesight for more than a moment. He adored you before, but now you’re the mother of his child. The woman who carried a piece of him inside her, who gave him something he never thought he could have. If you so much as disappear into another room? Satoru is ready to Hollow Purple the air itself.

Following you around like some puppy with his spawn that resembles him a little too much: ("Dumpling? Where’d you go?" "Satoru, I’m in the bathroom." "...Can I come in?")

Oh, and he takes such good care of you too. Sure, he teases—makes his usual dumb jokes, smirks like an idiot—but when it comes to postpartum recovery? This man is all in. You have to make that infamous diaper concoction after birth? He’s right there, handing you an ice pack for your bits, whispering, “I have never loved you more.” If you ask, hell, if you even hint at needing help with anything? He’s already doing it. Witch hazel wash? No hesitation. Helping you in and out of the bath? He’s got you. Bringing you food, making sure you drink water, physically tucking you into bed because you refuse to rest? He does it all. Yes, he will absolutely pick you up and put you back in bed if you try to do too much: ("Satoru, I can walk." "Oh, I know you can, but should you?" Cue him plopping you onto the couch with a smug grin, a fluffy blanket, and a kiss to your forehead.)

Now, as much as he loves his baby, he is deeply afraid of the newborn phase. Like, undeniably so. The idea of rolling over and crushing them in his sleep? A recurring nightmare. (Yes, he believes in skin-to-skin contact. Yes, he read a bunch of articles about it while out on missions. Yes, he panicked about every single one.) Trimming their tiny fingernails? His worst nightmare. And trust, your house is baby-proofed to the maximum.

But once they hit the toddler phase? Oh, he thrives. They're curious! They tell him the craziest stories, and he eats up every single one. He loves feeding them sweets, spoiling them rotten. He definitely brings them to the school with him, letting them color all over his mission logs (that he’s been avoiding anyway).

And when they start walking? Oh, this is where things get real.

Satoru Gojo is undeniably, unapologetically, shamelessly a leash dad. The first time his little one wobbles too far from him in public? Leash acquired. Not just any leash, oh no, it’s cute. He makes sure it matches their little outfits, maybe even gets custom ones with their initials embroidered on them (never their name, that's how they get kidnapped!) Safety first!

If anyone dares to give him a weird look? He dares them to say something. His sunglasses drop down the bridge of his nose as he grins, voice sickly sweet: "You got a problem?"

Unfortunately, probably gets one for you too. Just to be a menace of a husband, loops it around your wrist with a teasing smirk, leaning in close, "Can’t have my favorite person running off, now can I?"

("Satoru, take this off me." "Make me.")

Geto Suguru

Oh, Suguru, who definitely acts more like a mother than a father.

This man embodies nurturing (and controlling, but hey, he’s going to therapy… maybe). Sure, he technically runs a cult, but you and your twins? You don’t really need to know that. (His poor assistant, though, absolutely running damage control while he’s busy doting on you.)

From the moment you give birth, Suguru is relentless in his care. He follows every superstitious belief—some of them might be outdated, but he does not care. You will be sitting for a month. No cold foods, no heavy lifting. Okay, he’ll allow you to wash your hair, but standing in the shower? Absolutely not. Baths only. He’s drawing them for you, making sure the temperature is just right, ensuring you’re as comfortable as possible.

If he weren’t a cult leader, he’d make the perfect stay-at-home dad.

Oh, the birth itself? He refuses to trust non-sorcerers with your pregnancy. No hospital, no epidurals, no way. It’s a birthing pool, at home, the natural way. And the second those babies are in his arms? He is devoted. Just like Satoru, you’re not leaving his sight. Neither are those babies.

But the baby phase? He hates it.

Not the babies themselves, of course, but dear god, two at once is a nightmare. They’re constantly tugging on his dark hair, they somehow manage to unlock baby-proofed cabinets (how are they that smart already?), and the mess? The sleepless nights? The chaos? It’s almost enough to drive him insane. But even through his exhaustion, he’s never anything but soft with them. Always the nurturing, coddling one. Because even though this phase is hell, he still loves them more than anything.

But once they hit the toddler years? That’s when he shines.

Suguru is the epitome of patience, his voice always gentle, his hands always steady as he guides them through their little tantrums and misadventures. He isn’t a leash dad, he simply doesn’t need to be. His twins are always either in his arms or holding his hands, their little fingers wrapped around his own as they toddle beside him.

Sure, some people might call him a helicopter parent. But he’s raising two little girls. The world is a dangerous place, and he’s not taking any chances. Let someone even think about looking at them the wrong way—his smile might be soft, but his presence is terrifying. No one is getting near his babies. And if anyone dares to question his overprotectiveness? He simply tilts his head, that ever-calm voice carrying something dangerous beneath the surface:

"Would you rather I let them run loose? Hm?"

Suguru is a morning person, but not in the “up at dawn” kind of way. No, he savors the mornings, stretches them out as long as possible, slow and quiet, just the way he likes it. He wakes before you do. Always. Most mornings, he watches you sleep for a little while, fingers tracing slow patterns along your hip, your back, wherever he can touch (loves your stretch marks). Something is intoxicating about these quiet moments, the way you breathe so softly, the warmth of your skin against his. He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, presses the gentlest kiss to your temple.

You belong to him. It’s a dangerous thought, but one he doesn’t fight.

The twins usually wake up before you do, one always stirring the other, little giggles or babbling voices breaking the silence. Suguru moves without a hint of hesitation, careful not to wake you as he slips out of bed, padding softly toward their room. Suguru melts every single time. His girls, half-asleep, hair messy, rubbing their tiny fists against their eyes, reach for him instantly with little grabby hands. Lifts them with ease, one in each arm, pressing a kiss to both of their foreheads before settling them against his chest.

"Did my little princesses sleep well?"

Cue sleepy nods, little arms clinging to him as he carries them downstairs. He makes breakfast with one toddler perched on his hip, the other playing on the floor nearby. Feeds them, cleans them up, all before you even wake up. He wants you to rest, wants you to have the luxury of a slow morning. By the time you stir, he’s already setting a cup of tea on your bedside table, pressing a kiss to your forehead before murmuring, “Stay in bed. I’ll bring you breakfast.”

And if you dare try to get up? Oh, you better believe he’s scooping you back under the covers, lips ghosting against your ear as he hums, “You don’t want to upset me, do you?” Playful, teasing, but firm.

(Yeah, okay—maybe he’s a little possessive. But can you blame him? You gave him his whole world.)

Suguru is the definition of a doting husband. Not just in the classic ways. Sure, he makes sure you’re comfortable, that you’re taken care of, but it’s the smallest details that make it clear: this man worships you. He brushes your hair at night, fingers ghosting against your skin. “You’re so beautiful,” a soft murmur like it’s an afterthought. Like he just has to say it. Absolutely loves watching you with the twins. The way your voice softens when you talk to them, the way you hold them close. He lives for it. (It does something to him, something dangerous.) Insists on tucking you in every night. Even if you’re already comfortable, even if he’s exhausted, he needs to make sure you’re safe, warm, and content. It’s his job.

When it comes to you leaving his sight? Absolutely not. You get up to leave the room? He’s watching you (on the cameras in the house, that you definitely aren't aware of). Someone dares to ask for your attention when he’s near? His hand is on your lower back before you even notice, a soft smile on his lips, but the grip is tight. God help anyone who thinks they can come between him and his family.

Because Geto Suguru might be soft with you, but for everyone else?

He’s still a damn curse user.

Nanami Kento

If there’s any man built for family life, it’s Nanami. Sure, he’s stoic. Composed. A man of few words. But when it comes to his child? Dear god, he is so soft. He loves them in a way that feels fundamental, as natural as breathing. Loves you even more for giving him something so precious. He doesn’t say it often, but it’s in every glance, every touch, every sigh of appreciation when he looks at you holding his child.

And when he holds them? He feels whole.

He savors every little moment, tiny fingers reaching for his glasses, drooly kisses pressed against his cheeks as he spoon-feeds them baby food. And no matter how messy they get, no matter how much mashed-up fruit ends up on his tie (his good tie, at that), he never complains. He just exhales, wipes his cheek with the back of his hand, and murmurs, "You're a messy little thing, aren’t you?" before pressing a kiss to their forehead, regardless of the applesauce smeared across it.

Because for Nanami, this, his family, his home, the life he’s built with you, this is everything.

Nanami is an early riser. He always has been. But the difference now? He no longer rushes out the door and only lives for his work.

Instead, he takes his time.

Tends to wake up before you, slipping out of bed with careful movements so he doesn’t disturb you. The first thing he does is check on your little one—peering into their crib, watching their tiny chest rise and fall with soft, even breaths. It’s the only time he allows himself to just stand there, quietly admiring, drinking in the sight of the most important thing in his world.

If they stir, if they so much as whimper, he’s immediately reaching down, scooping them up with ease, holding them against his chest as he rubs slow circles on their back.

"It’s alright, little one. I’ve got you."

Mornings are meant to be spent slowly, feeding them breakfast (with a bib, he learned his lesson the hard way), wiping their tiny hands clean, and carrying them in one arm as he makes coffee with the other. If you’re still asleep, he lets you stay that way, keeping the house quiet, and making sure you get as much rest as possible. Because Nanami knows better than anyone, that being a parent is exhausting. And if he can shoulder some of the weight for you? He will.

Nanami isn’t possessive. Not in the way that Gojo or Geto might be.

But is he protective? Absolutely.

Taking his kid to the park is a mission. He doesn’t hover, per se, but he’s always watching. Sitting on a bench, arms crossed, eyes locked in. The second his child starts running a little too fast? He’s standing. Someone else’s kid gets a little too rough? He’s walking over. And if his child falls? He gives them a second—just one—to see if they’ll get up on their own. But the moment he hears a wobbly inhale, sees that little lip start to tremble—he’s already there. Kneeling beside them, checking them over with careful hands, murmuring, “You’re alright, sweetheart. Just a little scrape.” And then, with the gentlest look in his eyes:

"Do you want to keep playing, or do you need a hug first?"

(They always choose the hug.)

Nanami adores you. But not in a loud way. Not in the way that Gojo teases or the way Geto smothers. No, Nanami loves you in a way that feels steady. Like safety. Like home. Always makes sure you eat first, even if it means letting his food get cold. Takes care of the night feedings if you’re too exhausted. Rubs your shoulders when you look tense, presses a kiss to the back of your hand just because.

And when the baby’s asleep? That’s your time. Some nights, it’s just the two of you sitting in quiet conversation, his hand resting over yours, thumb rubbing absentmindedly against your skin. Other nights, he just holds you, silent, warm... present. When the exhaustion is heavy in your bones, when you sigh in a way that sounds just a little too much like overwhelmed, he cups your face, tilts your chin up so you meet his gaze.

"You’re doing an incredible job," he tells you, because if anyone deserves to be reassured, it’s you, and god help anyone who dares to make you doubt it.

Ryomen Sukuna

In a modern AU, if anything could fix Ryomen Sukuna, it would be a child. Not that the kid was planned, of course. But the moment he sees them—tiny, fragile, utterly defenseless—something inside him shifts. He won’t admit it, won’t say it outright, but watching his newborn slobber all over his hand while teething? Yeah, he crumples inside.

At first, he’s clueless. He’s never had to be gentle before. His hands, powerful and ruthless, were never meant for something so delicate. You have to show him how to hold them properly, how to support their head, how to not look at them like they’re a fragile piece of glass about to shatter.

And does he complain? Oh, absolutely. But he listens, he's trying.

Modern AU Sukuna is absolutely a CEO. And not just any CEO, a powerful, slightly (or very) corrupt one. The kind of man that has everyone terrified to breathe wrong in his presence. Yet, despite his intimidating reputation, there are certain days when his employees come to work to find something... unbelievable. Their ruthless, cutthroat boss—Ryomen Sukuna—sitting at the head of a massive conference table, looking utterly unbothered as his baby naps against his chest in a tiny carrier.

The first time it happened, his employees did not know how to react. The sight of their terrifying boss with a wobbly-headed infant suckling on his tie was so surreal that no one dared to acknowledge it. They just continued their meeting in absolute silence, stealing panicked glances at one another, unsure whether laughing would get them fired, killed, or both.

Sukuna however, oh, he knows what they’re thinking. He can feel the tension in the room, the way no one is making eye contact with him. So naturally, he makes it worse.

"If any of you wake them up," he drawls, voice dark and smooth, "I’ll fire you on the spot." Cue nervous sweating from every executive in the room. Despite his threats, you know he does this because he wants to give you a break. Of course, he acts like it’s no big deal, grumbling about how "You never shut up about needing rest, woman. If bringing the brat to work gives me some damn peace at home, then so be it."

(The truth is that he secretly enjoys it. The small weight of his child against him, the quiet little snores, the way their tiny fingers sometimes curl around his thumb mid-nap. Yeah… he might actually like this fatherhood thing.)

At home, Sukuna tries to maintain his usual cold, indifferent demeanor. But it’s hard when he’s got a wobbly toddler clinging to his leg, looking up at him with your eyes, babbling nonsense like he’s the most important person in the world.

Obviously, he can’t just ignore them. "Tch. What do you want, brat?" (Picks them up anyway)

You catch him napping on the couch with the baby on his chest, one hand protectively covering their back. If you so much as mention it, he glares at you like you’ve just committed treason. Bath time? He claims he hates it, but somehow, he’s always the one washing their hair, grumbling under his breath about how “You’re doing it wrong” as he takes over. If they cry? He’s terrible at comforting, but god forbid anyone else try to step in. That’s his kid, he’ll figure it out himself.

He’s not soft, he insists. Not in the way Nanami or Geto might be. But when he tucks them into bed at night, sitting on the edge of their tiny mattress, watching their little chest rise and fall…something inside him settles. Suddenly realized he’d burn the entire world to the ground for them.

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #geto suguru #nanami kento #ryoumen sukuna #gojo x reader #geto x reader #nanami x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk #jjk drabble #jjk fluff #Tw: babies

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