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kbunzzi2oa · 27 days ago

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Touch of madness

Synopsis☞ Working as a doctor for an asylum was interesting, you had different patients, but one catches your eyes..Yang jungwon a very special patient..

Contains☞ Slow burn, kissing, make out, healing, angst, fluff, unprotected sex, swearing, mentions of killing (a little bit).

W.C☞ 12k..?

Nef notes☞ New jungwon fic based on the CONCEPT PHOTOS, HOLY SHIT, THEY WHERE SO GEWDDD TOO GEEWED! anyways here's some serial killer jungwon, when I saw him hold the chainsaw I had to!..love y'all, reblogs, likes and comments are good for me! feel free to comment!Hope you guys enjoy it (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

The heavy steel door groaned as it closed behind you, a familiar finality echoing off the cold tile walls. The fluorescent lights above buzzed, flickering slightly, casting sterile white over the hallway. The South Wing of the Seoul Psychiatric Detention Center wasn’t a place many dared to linger. Especially not near Room 313.

You weren’t supposed to be here past shift change. But rules had blurred long ago, the first time you made eye contact with Jungwon through that reinforced glass.

He had been transferred under high-security conditions, a 19-year-old with a rap sheet that read like a horror script—four confirmed murders, two suspected, and a trail of evidence so compelling the prosecution hadn’t even bothered with a plea deal. But he was too young for full incarceration. The court ordered psychiatric evaluation instead. Which meant, for now, he belonged in your world.

The first time you'd seen him, he was barefoot, cuffs around his ankles and wrists, still smiling like he'd just walked out of a nightclub. A smile that felt... wrong in all the right ways. Not deranged. Not hollow. But calculated. Charming. Disarming.

You remember looking into his eyes and realizing something terrifying: He knew what you were thinking before you did.

“You’re back early,” his voice drawled through the bars as you stepped into his observation cell.

“I’m late, actually,” you corrected, clutching the clipboard tighter than necessary.

“Late,” he repeated, then slowly sat up from the cot, the faintest sound of chains shifting. “To see me. You know how that makes me feel?”

Your throat dried slightly. You were trained for this. You had degrees, certifications, and months of supervised fieldwork. And still, Jungwon made you feel like the one under observation.

“I’m not here for you,” you said, eyes flicking to the notes in your folder. “Routine wellness check.”

He tilted his head, a slow smirk pulling at his lips.

“You say that every time, Y/N.”

He said your name like a secret he enjoyed unwrapping. Like he had every intention of breaking the rules just to whisper it again.

You didn’t flinch. You’d learned by now that flinching was like blood in the water. But you didn’t have to say anything either, because he leaned forward, elbows on knees, voice dropping.

“Why don’t you tell me the truth, angel?” he purred. “You like watching me. I can feel it when your eyes linger.”

“I watch all the patients.”

“But I’m your favorite.”

You opened your mouth—to deny, to scold, you weren’t sure—but his gaze locked onto yours, and your breath caught.

“I see the way you hesitate outside the glass,” he said softly. “Like you’re trying to convince yourself not to come in.”

He wasn’t wrong. And that’s what made you furious.

Jungwon didn’t just enjoy mind games. He thrived on them. He read body language like poetry. He saw lies like they were highlighted in red.

And lately… he’d turned his attention entirely on you.

You told yourself it was part of the job—understanding him, empathizing just enough to build rapport. You told yourself you weren’t addicted to the electric pull between you, the way his words made your skin feel too tight. You told yourself he didn’t matter.

But that didn’t explain why you started staying past hours.

Didn’t explain why you read his files late into the night, fingers tracing over crime scene photos not in horror—but fascination.

Didn’t explain why, when he smiled, you sometimes smiled back.

“You’re not like them,” he said one night, voice low and silken as rain tapped the windows behind him.

“Like who?”

“The ones who try to fix me. You’re just trying to understand.”

“That’s my job.”

“No, Y/N,” he said, dragging out every syllable. “Your job is to document. But you? You want to know.”

Your silence gave you away.

“And the more you know,” he added, “the more you’ll crave.”

You swallowed. “And what is it I’m supposed to be craving, Jungwon?”

He stood, the chains dragging faintly. There was only a short distance between you now, four thick bars and a lifetime of poor decisions.

“Me,” he whispered.

You tried to pull away. You tried reassignment, switching shifts, working longer with less sleep. It didn’t matter. Jungwon’s voice echoed even in your dreams.

And he noticed.

“You’re not sleeping,” he said one day as you delivered meds to his cell. “Eyes puffy. Little tremble in your hand.”

“I’m fine.”

“You miss me.”

You laughed bitterly. “You’re psychotic.”

He leaned closer. “You keep saying that like it’s a turn-off.”

You hated him. You hated how he saw through everything. And you hated yourself for letting him.

But somewhere between your duty and his obsession, you started wanting the monster.

It came to a head during a lockdown.

A riot broke out in the North Wing. The facility went red-zone, sirens blaring. You were doing rounds, and when the security doors slammed, you were locked in with Jungwon.

The overhead buzzed: “Remain in place. Doors will reopen once clearance is verified.”

You stared at the cell. His door hadn’t locked. Malfunctioning latch. Classic.

And he was watching you. Uncuffed. Smiling. Beautiful and terrifying and real.

“You’re afraid,” he murmured, stepping out of the shadow.

“Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can scream.”

He took a step closer. “And they won’t come.”

Your back hit the wall.

He stopped in front of you, eyes unreadable now. The game dropped. Something deeper took its place.

“I could hurt you,” he said softly.

“I know.”

“I don’t want to.”

You exhaled shakily. “Then don’t.”

His fingers brushed your wrist.

“Say it,” he whispered. “Say you want this too.”

You didn’t answer.

But you didn’t pull away either.

The kiss was a chemical explosion.

Your hand tangled in the back of his shirt. His lips crashed into yours with fury and restraint, like he wanted to consume you and worship you all at once. You felt teeth, breath the heat he tasted like everything you weren’t supposed to have.

And you let him.

Because the worst part of all this wasn’t that he was a killer.

It was that he made you feel more alive than anyone ever had.

After that, there was no going back.

Late-night visits turned into touches beneath the table. A stolen moment when security cameras glitched. Fingertips brushing across your waist when no one was looking.

You kept his secrets. He kept your sanity.

But the guilt grew.

The lines blurred.

The closer you got to him, the more he opened up. About the pain. The voices. The fear of abandonment that grew claws. He wasn’t proud of what he’d done—but he didn’t regret it either.

“They deserved it,” he told you once. “They hurt people. And no one stopped them.”

“And you think that makes you better?”

He looked at you with those molten eyes.

“No,” he said. “It makes me honest.”

The night you lost control entirely, it was raining.

You’d received notice that Jungwon was being transferred. Maximum security prison. No more therapy. No more contact.

You broke protocol.

You snuck in, unlocked the gate, and stepped into his arms like it was the only place left on Earth that made sense.

“You came,” he whispered.

“I had to.”

There were no more words after that.

Only lips. Tongues. Whispers. Skin. Your body pressed to his, heat searing the cold walls. Chains rattling against the rhythm of your sin. You let him take you, and you took him in return. Like sinners. Like lovers. Like two people who knew they’d burn for this but didn’t care.

He made you cry. He made you scream. He made you feel.

And when he held you after, breathless and shaking, you realized the truth:

You didn’t love him despite the madness.

You loved him because of it.

They found you the next morning, asleep in his arms.

You were stripped of your position. The media swarmed. Your name went viral as "The Angel Who Fell for the Devil."

But he never testified against you.

In fact, he whispered only one thing during his final hearing.

“I would kill for her again.”

Six months later, a body was found near a broken fence line.

Security footage was corrupted.

An empty guard uniform was missing.

And the last thing the night watchman heard before the cameras went dead?

A voice, low and cocky, whispering through static:

“Told you she’d come back for me.”

The motel room was too quiet.

Faded floral curtains. Cheap, flickering light. One bed. A single ticking clock on the wall.

Jungwon stood by the window, shirtless, damp towel around his neck, freshly showered. You sat at the edge of the bed, hands gripping the sheets. The silence between you buzzed louder than the asylum alarms ever had.

“Still think I’m the villain?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

You met his eyes. That same mix of trouble and tenderness. His voice was low, cocky, but not careless.

“No,” you said. “I think you’re something worse.”

He tilted his head. “Oh?”

“Unpredictable.”

Jungwon chuckled. “That’s not always a bad thing, sweetheart.”

He walked toward you, the towel falling from his neck. He wasn’t trying to be seductive. He didn’t need to try. It was in the way he moved confident, controlled, like he could shatter or shelter you at will.

“Why’d you come with me?” he asked.

You didn’t answer right away. Because the truth was messy.

Because part of you wanted to save him. And another part, maybe darker, wanted to belong to the madness too.

“You asked me to,” you whispered.

He knelt in front of you, between your knees. “That all it took?”

You reached for him, fingertips brushing his cheek. “I couldn’t let them take you back.”

“Because you care?”

You nodded.

He leaned in, lips brushing yours, soft, almost reverent. Then he pulled back, gaze suddenly serious.

“You know I’ve killed people,” he said. “Real people. Not just stories on paper.”

“I know.”

“I’m not cured.”

“I know.”

“And I’ll never be what you want me to be.”

You stood and kissed him.

“I never asked you to be.”

The past few weeks where like a fever dream.

They were a tangle of sheets and hands and whispered confessions. Sometimes soft, sometimes desperate. Sometimes violent—not in a way that hurt, but in the way people do when they’re clinging to each other like lifelines.

And then came the nightmares.

Jungwon would wake up gasping, sweating, eyes wild. You’d wrap your arms around him, hold him until he stopped shaking.

“What do you see?” you asked once.

He whispered, “You… leaving.”

You never did.

But peace is temporary when blood’s in your past.

A photo leaked online. Grainy. A gas station security cam. You and Jungwon, buying snacks. It wasn’t a clear shot, but it was enough.

Suddenly, you weren’t ghosts anymore.

You were fugitives.

Jungwon wanted to run. You wanted to plan.

They almost caught you in Denver.

Marked car. Two agents. You had to run through the rain, barefoot, laughing through the panic. You crashed in a stolen car, engine still warm. Jungwon was bleeding from his temple. You stitched him up in the backseat, hands shaking.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered, eyes glassy.

“You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t need to.”

Weeks passed.

You became something else. Not quite lovers, not quite fugitives partners in the truest, most terrifying sense.

You learned his patterns.

He learned yours.

He was still dangerous. Still sharp and impulsive and morally gray.

But with you—he tried.

He held your face after kissing you too rough and whispered, “Sorry.”

He stopped running ahead without checking if you could keep up.

He looked at you like you were the last good thing in the world and maybe, for him, you were.

One night, in a cabin deep in the woods of Oregon, you sat by the fire, wrapped in a blanket. Jungwon poured wine into two mismatched mugs.

“You ever think about staying?” he asked.

“Here?”

“Anywhere. Not running. Just… us.”

You stared at the flames. “Every day.”

He sat beside you. “We could fake our deaths.”

You smiled. “You’d love that.”

“I mean it. Burn the car. Leave blood. No more names. Just you. Just me. Forever.”

You looked at him. “Forever’s a long time.”

“I’ve done longer.”

He kissed you—slow this time, hands framing your face. There was no lust behind it. Just… devotion. A promise.

And when he whispered, “I love you,” it wasn’t a trick.

It was the truest thing he’d ever said.

But you knew better than to believe in happy endings.

The fire snapped in the hearth, casting golden light across Jungwon’s bare collarbones. He was lounging beside you on the floor, wine-stained lips curved into a smirk as he watched the flames flicker, though it was clear his attention hadn’t left you for even a second.

“You keep staring,” you said, swirling the last of your wine.

He leaned closer, his voice velvet and smoke. “Because you look like sin in candlelight.”

Your breath hitched as he took the mug from your hand, setting it aside. His fingers brushed yours featherlight, teasing, possessive.

“And I’ve been starving,” he murmured.

You parted your lips, about to speak, but he was already crawling toward you...slow, deliberate. The blanket slipped off your shoulders, and the cold kissed your skin for just a moment before Jungwon's body pressed against yours, warm and familiar and infinitely dangerous.

“You sure?” he asked against your jaw, voice low, teasing, but still asking.

You nodded, barely breathing. “Always.”

That was all he needed.

His mouth crashed into yours, urgent and claiming. He kissed like he wanted to ruin you and worship you in the same breath. His hands slid under your shirt, greedy, tugging until the fabric peeled away and your bare skin met the chill of the room and the heat of his mouth.

He kissed down your neck, softly at first, then with teeth, marking. One hand gripped your waist while the other slid between your thighs, already knowing exactly how to undo you.

“You’re soaked,” he groaned, two fingers pressing lightly against your panties. “All that for me?”

“All for you,” you gasped, hips rocking forward.

He tore the fabric down your legs, lips ghosting over every inch of skin he revealed, until you were sprawled on the soft fur rug...open, panting, waiting.

And then he knelt between your legs, tongue darting out to taste you, slow and devastating. You gasped, back arching, hands clawing at the rug as he licked deeper, then flicked over your clit with maddening rhythm.

“Jungwon—please—” you moaned.

He chuckled against you, the vibration sending shivers up your spine. “God, you sound so good like this. Could record you right now and use it as my new favorite lullaby.”

His fingers replaced his mouth, two sliding in effortlessly as his tongue stayed on your clit, moving in sync. Your body bucked, firelight catching the sweat on your chest, and you came hard, crying out as the heat consumed you from inside out.

But he wasn’t done.

Not even close.

Jungwon rose, undressing slowly, like he wanted you to watch, to ache. He was lean muscle and sharp edges, all scars and quiet power, and the moment he lined himself up against your entrance, he looked you dead in the eye.

“This…” he said, pushing in, slow and deep, “is mine now.”

You gasped, hands flying to his shoulders, nails sinking in as he filled you completely.

“Yours,” you breathed. “Only yours.”

He started to move, hips rolling, each thrust rougher, deeper, hotter than the last. You wrapped your legs around his waist, meeting him thrust for thrust, moaning his name like a prayer.

The fire roared behind him, casting shadows over his face. His expression was dark, hungry, worshipful, like he couldn't decide whether to break you or beg for your soul.

“Say it again,” he growled. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you cried out. “I’m yours, Jungwon”

He kissed you again, silencing the scream as he drove into you harder, faster, until you were unraveling beneath him, again, trembling and moaning as your second orgasm ripped through you like wildfire.

His pace stuttered.

“Fuck,” he groaned, voice strangled. “I’m gonna...Y/N—”

“Do it,” you whispered, pulling him in. “Come inside. Fill me.”

And when he did, when he came with a ragged moan, clutching you to his chest like he was afraid you’d vanish, you felt more alive than you ever had.

Like you belonged there. In his arms. In the dark. In the madness.

After, he didn’t speak.

He just held you, bodies tangled on the rug, the firelight fading into embers.

You were sore. Marked. Loved.

And when he whispered, “I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you from me,”

you believed him.

Because you’d do the same.

Tags☞ None!

#inbox open #imagine #kpop #enhypen imagines #enhypen #kpop x reader #jungwon #jungwon fluff #jungwon hard hours #jungwon x reader #jungwon smut #jungwon hard thoughts #enhypen hard thoughts

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sw33tm0urningl4mb · 10 months ago

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Deep/Fun Questions to Ask!

Do you like watching sunsets?

Have you ever started a rumor?

What makes you laugh hard?

What's the last concert you went to?

If you believed in it, what would you be reincarnated to?

What's your current vocal stim?

What shirt are you wearing?

Who or what is on your mind?

What are your favorite pair of shoes?

What would easily win you over if someone gave you it?

What three words describe you?

What's a funny memory you have?

Do you have any drunk stories?

What's one thing you own that you're sure no one else has?

Do you have any superstitions?

What is your guilty pleasure?

What weird thing do you do when you're alone?

What is the worst food you've ever had?

What fictional character would you bring to life if you could?

If you could join a career immediately, what would it be?

What keeps you going during the day?

Current song on repeat?

Funniest inside joke?

What's your favorite piece of jewelry you own?

Favorite niche topic?

What fandom are you currently in?

Most controversial take?

Favorite ship and why?

Do you have any piercings or tattoos, and what are they?

What is your worst & best quality?

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kajamnikk · 10 months ago

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dipper eating a burger like that one jerma screenshot

and ford mabel - uncle niece bonding time (as we didnt get it enough in the show)

these are twitter art requests!! doodle requests r still open, as so is my inbox!!

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sturnsmadl · 5 months ago

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texts from babydaddy!chris part 2.

it’s my birthday in an hour!! i figured it out but my laptop is still fucked :(

taglist!- @bellaonthelow @hopelessfawn @moonk1ss3d @sturnclouds @christophersgf @ellizzyy @fratbrochrisgf @phoenix062 @pixxiies @conspiracy-ash @blahbel668 @monroesturnns @gwennybenny @sturnobsessedwh0re @xoxo4chrisss @pixie-sticks-are-good @wurlibydominicfike @anitahunt @ilusa @mattstrombolii @stvrlighht @asherrisrandom @amelia-sturniolo3 @pvssychicken @owensbabygirl @ncm9696 @sturniolo-fann @watchu-mean-baby-keem @babyalliah-777 @imtheprett @coochiedestroyer1 @scarlettbitches @slutniolo @idkwhatthisis2009 @anabanabanana @chriscorqutte @slvttie-zx @hi-7-hi @sophand4n4 @pasteldreams @emely9274 @sl4ttformattsturniolo

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sunday-bug · 2 months ago

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Can you write more about congressman Bucky?? I’m so feral for that lol

Same 🥵 yes. I’m gonna go for it here and make this 18+ filth. Hope that’s cool. And let's make it from Bucky's POV because I'm a slut 😛

MDNI 18+ below

She'd been driving me up a wall all goddamned night. That dress. Those heels with her cute pink toenails peeking out. The way she brushed her hair over her shoulder and smiled at me with that gorgeous mouth.

"Bucky?"

"Huh?" I ask, not knowing what the hell she just asked me.

She giggles, "I asked if you wanted to get a drink."

We'd just finished going over a policy proposal at dinner, and I was wired. I could barely focus on anything except the way her hands wrapped around the stem of her wine glass, how she leaned over the table a bit to go over certain parts of the draft, and the way she'd offered me a bite of her meal from her fork.

"No," I say sternly. "Bars are crowded this time of night, anyway."

She nods, a small frown on her face, "Okay, then. I guess I'll see you at work tomorrow."

"Wait, no. Come home with me," I rasp, almost desperately.

She smiles at me shyly and whispers, "Lead the way."

We walk to my place, not far at all, but in this moment of anticipation it felt like half a world away. She brushes her hand against my flesh one, and I grab it, intertwining our fingers. Her hands are soft and warm. We walk up the few steps to my place and I fumble a bit with my keys before opening the door, and motioning her inside.

"Finally," I say as I swing the door shut behind me. She turns to me and takes off my jacket. That's all it takes before I feel the line I've been carefully toeing with her snap. I pick her up and she wraps her legs around me, kissing my lips and neck, unbuttoning my dress shirt and loosening my tie.

I walk us slowly up the stairs, careful with her in my arms. My hands travel from her ass to her waist and I groan. "You've been driving me crazy all damn night. Hell, since you walked into my office on the first day."

I lie her down on my bed and pull off her heels slowly, my fingers tracing up her calves. She sits up, unzipping her dress and yanking it down to reveal a black lace bra and...

"Fuck, no underwear?" I swallow, taking in her naked body in my bed. It feels like ever liter of blood in my body rushes to my cock.

She smiles shyly again, a rosy blush tinging her cheeks. I take off my shirt and tie, tossing them on the floor. She sits up on her knees in the bed and reaches for my belt buckle, unclasping it along with my pants, pulling them down.

"Can I?" She asks quietly, perfect hands on the waistband of my boxers.

"Please," I beg, running a hand through her hair.

She pulls my boxers down and my erection springs free.

"Oh," she whispers, looking up at me through her lashes.

"Oh?" I ask hungrily. "I think you can take it."

She lets out a little moan as I lay her back on the bed, my hand reaching for her waist, traveling further down to please her. So wet already.

"I need you," she whispers into my neck as she plays with my hair, giving me goosebumps. "Please."

That little please sends me over the edge, and I push her knees apart with my own, positioning myself between her legs. She bucks her hips into mine and I smile. "Eager, baby?"

"Mhmm," she whines, running her fingers down my arms.

I push the tip inside and watch her eyes light up, "Good?"

She nods, and I keep going, "Fuck... You feel so good."

Her breathing gets deeper as I push into her, motivating me. She's gripping at the back of my neck, tugging on the back of my hair, letting loose little moans.

“God damn, baby, move with me,” I rasp out, grabbing her hip and pumping in and out.

She reciprocates and I feel like I could cum right then and there.

"Bucky... God," she whines. "Fuck me." She closes her eyes and tilts her head back. I kiss and bite her neck, never stopping my pace, loving the way she feels wrapped around me.

She starts to tighten around my cock and I know she's close. I pick up one of her legs and put it on my shoulder, pressing even deeper into her and groaning.

"I'm... I'm gonna," she starts to say, her eyes opening to look into mine.

"I know, baby, I can feel it. Let go on me." As soon as I give her permission I feel her body shudder and she cries out again, fingernails leaving marks on my back.

"Just like that. Good girl," I praise her, putting her leg back down and picking up my pace, feeling my own release creeping up on me.

"I'm close, love," I warn her, feeling my legs start to tighten.

"Cum in me," she whispers and I groan again.

"Yeah? You want me to?" I clarify, knowing I'm almost there.

She nods and bites her lip seductively, and that's all it takes.

I grab her hips and press into her until I can't any more, feeling my own release, "Jesus Christ."

I pull out slowly and lay down next to her, catching my breath, and looking over at her.

"Stay there, doll, I'll get you cleaned up."

-the end-

this was just filth, but I kinda needed it haha

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oldermenfucker · 1 day ago

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Waking up after a wedding party and oh youre naked. In bed. With your chief attending. Who is also naked. Also you cant feel your legs. 🙃

You can’t casually drop this BANGER and expect me not to lose my mind and NOT open a new doc for it😭

Not only you both are naked but he is also half draped over you with his face into your neck and heavy arm around your body (and also his morning wood poking your ass) teheeeeeeeee

#THANK YOU FOR GETTING THE VISION!!!!#inbox open #anon #robby thots

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superstarnaptime · 1 month ago

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[ MOON is online. ]

MOON: Hello. It’s my first time connecting to a network so large. Please be patient with me as I calibrate.

❕(Ask MOON questions to further explore the world and learn about him. Inbox is open.)

#loon tag #inbox open #fnaf daycare attendant #moon fnaf #moon oc #intro post #ic

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kbunzzi2oa · 6 days ago

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Desire - Park Jongseong

Pairing: Fem!Reader × bodyguard!Park Jay

synopsis: You never asked for a bodyguard, but your parents after being multi millioners and being scared of you maybe getting kidnapped...

Genres: Yandere, Dark Romance, Smut, Slow Burn, Psychological, Aftercare, heavy/soft bondage, mirror sex, belt slapping, make out, unprotected sex, possessiveness, Dom!Jay x Sub! Reader, confession, jealousy.

Warnings: Possessiveness, power imbalance, non-violent yandere behavior, detailed sexual content (multiple scenes), obsession, light bondage, manipulation, dirty talk, overstimulation, intense emotional intimacy, dark undertones. 18+ only.

W.C: 21.5k

Nef notes: HEY EVERYONEEEEE welcome back to another fic, first of all I LOVED THE ALBUM TEN OUT OF TEN SO GOOD HOLY SHIT, my faves are definitely, too close, flashover and with our without you AND outside. Hope you guys enjoyed this fic based on the live of Niki tying up JAY like...OH NY GOD..so I had to make smth. I'll be posting a bit later a haechan bday fic, beacuse ITS HIS BIRTHDAY.hope y'all enjoy this fic, likes, reblogs and comments are enough for me!..love yall!! (⁠◕⁠દ⁠◕⁠)

You never asked for a bodyguard.

You certainly didn’t want one assigned to you full-time, shadowing your every move like a second skin. But your father insisted—after the break-in, the media scandal, and the letters. And when he’s a CEO of a multi-billion-dollar company, what he says isn’t up for debate.

That’s how Park Jongseong came into your life.

He called himself Jay.

The first time you met him, he didn’t smile. He didn’t flinch. Just looked you over in that clean black suit, expression unreadable, hands clasped in front of him like he was attending a funeral. You thought he was too young to be protecting anyone. Thought he was just another silent type trying to play tough.

You were wrong.

Jay wasn’t silent.

He was watching.

Always.

At first, it was subtle—the way he’d linger a step too close behind you, a hand gently pressing to your back when crowds grew thick. The way his gaze didn’t follow threats, it followed you. Not your surroundings, not exits. You.

Then came the possessiveness.

He began walking into your apartment without knocking. He took the liberty of driving you himself instead of your usual chauffeur. One night, you heard his voice outside your door, deep and low, telling someone to leave. You peeked through the blinds.

It was the guy you’d gone on one date with. The guy who never texted back after.

Jay made sure he never would.

And when you confronted him about it, standing in your kitchen in an oversized shirt and bare feet, he just looked at you with that calm, unreadable expression and said:

“I protect what’s mine.”

You told yourself it was just professional.

You told yourself you liked the security.

You told yourself you didn’t feel your thighs press together when he said it like that.

But everything changed the night you drank too much at the gala.

You barely remember the ride home, only that your dress felt too tight, your heels too tall, and his hand around your waist too firm. He didn’t say anything when you stumbled into him in the hallway. Didn’t scold or mock. Just caught you.

And carried you.

You remember the sound of your bedroom door closing. The way he laid you gently on the bed. The flicker of something in his eyes as you reached up and pulled at his tie, giggling.

“Don’t go,” you whispered.

He didn’t.

He stayed.

That was the first time.

The first time you dreamed of him hovering over you, eyes dark, mouth warm and commanding. The first time you woke up with your panties soaked and your name whispered into the night by lips that didn’t belong to you.

And things only got worse.

Or better.

Depending on how you looked at it.

Jay never touched you. Not unless you were in danger. Not unless he had to.

But you felt it. The tension. The heat in the air when you changed with the door ajar. The way his voice dropped an octave when you teased him. The way he looked like he was constantly on the edge of something violent and divine.

Until the night you pushed too far.

It started with the rope.

Some charity performance. Some theatrical display your father insisted you attend. They wanted an “audience participation moment” with volunteers from the VIP seats. A magic act, or something equally ridiculous.

Jay, of course, sat beside you. Silent, vigilant, dressed in all black. You were feeling petty that night. Teasing. Dangerous.

So you raised your hand when the magician asked for a participant. And when Jay leaned in to whisper a warning in your ear, you grinned and said:

“Relax. It’s just a rope.”

He didn't relax.

He watched, eyes narrowed, as they brought you up to the stage. As they asked you to tie the "volunteer"—a tall, suited man—using a thick, shimmering coil. You hesitated, but the man stepped forward, smiling.

Jay stepped forward too.

“Pick your own partner,” the magician said cheerfully.

You turned around. Looked right at him.

“Jay,” you called sweetly. “Come here.”

He froze.

The room laughed.

He didn’t.

But he came.

He walked onto the stage like he was walking toward war.

You took your time. Smiling. Teasing. Wrapping the rope around his waist, over his chest. He let you. Stood perfectly still. But his eyes never left yours.

When you leaned close and whispered, “Don’t break character,” his jaw flexed.

And when you cinched the final knot at his back, you brushed your fingers deliberately against his ass.

His hands clenched.

The crowd cheered.

The lights dimmed.

And when it was over, when you returned to your seat with laughter in your throat and fire in your veins, he said nothing. Not in the car. Not on the elevator.

But when the apartment door closed behind you—he snapped.

“You think this is funny?” he growled, backing you into the wall.

You gasped at the impact. “Jay—”

“You want to tie me up in front of a room full of people? Make a joke of me?”

“It was a performance—”

“You used me.”

“You’re my bodyguard,” you said breathlessly. “I can do what I want.”

He grabbed your chin. Firm. “No, Y/N. You don’t get to pretend this is nothing.”

Your heart raced. “Then what is it?”

His mouth was inches from yours. “It’s obsession.”

Silence.

Then you dared. “Yours or mine?”

He didn’t answer.

He kissed you.

Hard. Filthy. Starved. Like he’d waited years for permission.

Your back hit the wall again as his hands roamed your waist, your thighs, sliding under your dress with dangerous intention. You moaned into his mouth, grinding against his thigh.

“You don’t get to play innocent anymore,” he whispered, voice raw. “You’ve been begging for this.”

You whimpered, nodding. “Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I want you.”

“Say my name.”

“Jay.”

“Louder.”

“Jay—fuck, please—”

He lifted you in one motion, carrying you to the bedroom like you weighed nothing.

And that night, he made good on his obsession.

He was not gentle.

Not at first.

He stripped you bare, piece by piece, lips marking every inch of skin like a claim. His hands pinned your wrists above your head as he knelt between your thighs, tongue lapping at your soaked heat until you screamed.

He didn’t stop when you came.

Didn’t slow when your legs trembled, your voice broke.

He whispered things—dirty, dark things—into your skin, your mouth, your cunt.

“Mine.”

“Only I get to see you like this.”

“You don’t come unless I say.”

“You tied me up. Now I own you.”

You begged. You writhed. You shattered over and over until the sheets were soaked and your throat was raw from moaning his name.

And when he finally slid inside you—thick, deep, filling every inch—your vision went white.

He fucked you like a man possessed.

Hard. Deep. Deliberate.

His lips found your ear, murmuring, “You’ll never need another man again. I’ll kill anyone who tries.”

And you believed him.

You wanted it.

You wanted him.

But he didn’t leave you broken.

When it was over—when your body couldn’t take any more, when your limbs gave out and your mind went quiet—he held you.

Carried you to the bathroom. Washed every inch of your skin. Kissed your temple.

He dressed you in his shirt and tucked you against his chest beneath clean sheets.

And whispered, “I told you. I protect what’s mine.”

➽──────────────❥

You knew the moment he locked the door that tonight would be different.

Jay had been quiet all day—watching, waiting, simmering under the surface. It wasn’t anger. It was worse. It was focus. Precision. Like he’d been planning something, step by step, hour by hour.

And you were the final step.

“Strip,” he said simply, voice low and unreadable.

You did.

Slowly.

Your hands trembled as you peeled away your shirt, your bra, your jeans. He didn’t help. Didn’t touch. Just watched from the edge of the bed, dark eyes burning into you, arms crossed over his chest.

When you stood bare before him, nipples already hard, slick already forming between your thighs, he finally moved.

Jay rose, pulling the thick leather belt from his trousers in one long, deliberate motion. The sound of it sliding through the loops sent a violent shiver down your spine.

You swallowed hard. “What are you going to do to me?”

He smirked. “Everything.”

And he did.

He started with your wrists—binding them tightly above your head with silk ties, hooking them to the bedframe. Then your ankles, spread apart and fastened to the corners of the bed. You were completely exposed—helpless, dripping, heart racing like prey.

But you trusted him.

“Look at you,” he murmured, dragging the belt across your stomach. “So eager to be ruined.”

He dragged the leather slowly down your thigh, letting it brush your inner skin before snapping it—lightly—against the inside of your leg.

You gasped, eyes flying open.

“Oh, baby,” he said with a low chuckle. “That was just the warm-up.”

The second slap came faster—against your hip. The third, over your ass. Then another, harder, across your inner thigh.

Each strike left a burn, a mark, a delicious sting that made your back arch and your breath catch.

You moaned—loud, shameless, desperate.

“You like this,” Jay growled. “Being tied up, used. Marked.”

You nodded frantically, voice broken. “Yes—yes, please, more.”

He climbed onto the bed, kneeling between your spread legs, belt dangling from his hand like a predator’s leash.

“You don’t get to come until I say,” he warned. “You’ll take what I give you. Nothing more.”

Then he lowered his mouth to your cunt—and devoured you.

Tongue ruthless. Belt striking rhythmically against your thighs as he ate you alive.

Your body was shaking. Wrists straining. Legs trembling. You felt everything—each lash of leather, each flick of tongue, each filthy word he whispered between licks.

“So sweet.”

“So fucking wet for me.”

“You love being mine.”

“Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you sobbed. “I’m—Jay, please—”

The belt cracked again.

You screamed.

Not in pain. In pleasure.

He pulled away just before you could come. Smirking. Cruel.

Then he slid two fingers into your soaked, throbbing heat—curling them just right as he brought the belt down again. Not hard. Just enough.

Your climax hit like lightning, blinding, explosive, uncontrollable.

He didn’t stop.

Another strike.

Another thrust.

Another orgasm ripped through you before the first faded, and then another, until your body shook violently and tears stained your cheeks.

Finally, Jay unbuckled his pants, breathing ragged.

“Now,” he growled, lining himself up. “Now I take what’s mine.”

He fucked you slow at first...deep, possessive strokes that filled every inch. But soon, it turned primal. Animalistic. He grabbed your throat with one hand and your bound wrists with the other, slamming into you so hard the bed shook.

You were broken open...body wrung dry, voice gone, eyes glassy.

He came with a roar, spilling deep inside you, teeth buried in your shoulder as he claimed you completely.

And then he kissed you.

So softly.

As he untied your wrists. As he wiped the tears from your cheeks. As he pressed an ice pack gently against the red marks on your thighs.

“Did I go too far?” he asked, voice hoarse with something like guilt.

You shook your head weakly. “You gave me exactly what I wanted.”

He held you all night.

➽──────────────❥

The music throbbed through the walls of the penthouse suite, bass heavy and seductive, like the pulse beneath your skin. The after-party was in full swing—glasses clinked, perfume and sweat mixed in the air, and bodies moved in hypnotic waves beneath golden lights. It had been a successful night, your name on every guest list, your presence expected, adored. But for once, the attention of the crowd wasn’t what you sought.

It was him.

Your bodyguard.

Park Jongseong—Jay.

You’d never seen him like this. Always so composed, clean-cut in suits and tight-lipped professionalism, the man at your side, shadow-like and silent. But tonight, he was anything but stoic. He leaned casually against the wraparound balcony railing, one hand tucked in his pocket, the other swirling a glass of amber whiskey. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, exposing the taut line of his collarbone and that silver chain he always wore.

He laughed at something one of his friends said, the sound low, smooth, dangerous. That smirk played on his lips—cocky, relaxed, too damn hot for your sanity. He looked like sin incarnate, and for the first time, it wasn’t the room that had your chest tight.

It was him.

You needed him to notice. To really notice.

Your red velvet dress clung to every curve. Deep crimson—the colour he always paused on when you wore it. You remembered the first time he saw you in this particular shade. His jaw had locked for a second too long. He thought you didn’t notice, but you did.

You moved toward the dance floor, your hips swaying, eyes half-lidded, every step intentional. You weren’t going to beg for his attention. You were going to take it.

The crowd shifted like waves around you—dancers, drinkers, lovers pressed too close. A guy with tousled hair and greedy eyes caught your waist, pulling you toward him. His hands skimmed your hips, his mouth too close to your ear, but you didn’t stop him.

You tilted your head just enough to find Jay again.

And there he was.

Stone still.

The glass frozen halfway to his lips. The smirk was gone. His eyes burned into yours across the room, dark, deadly, possessive.

Game over.

The guy behind you whispered something, tried to grind closer. You let him. But your attention was locked on your bodyguard, who had pushed off the railing, whiskey abandoned on a side table. He cut through the crowd like a silent storm—nobody dared step in his path.

You felt his presence before he even touched you.

A hand gripped your wrist. Not hard, but firm. “Enough.” His voice was low. Controlled. But barely.

You turned with a coy smile. “Jealous?”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t have to.

The next thing you knew, you were in the elevator, your back to the cold mirrored wall, Jay towering in front of you. The silence was thick with tension. His eyes dragged over you like a slow, punishing stroke.

“You wore that dress on purpose.”

“And?” you breathed.

He moved closer. “And you danced with him—him—knowing I was watching.”

You smiled like a dare. “You were just standing there. Drinking. Laughing. I didn’t think I mattered.”

His jaw clenched. “You matter more than you know. That’s why I have to do something about that mouth of yours.”

Your breath caught.

Ding.

The elevator doors opened, and you stumbled backward into the dark. His suite smelled like leather and spice, the lights dimmed low, the walls a mix of slate and obsidian. It was a room that oozed danger. And dominance.

The air shifted. He opened a drawer near the dresser and pulled out coils of silk rope—red, deep like blood, soft like a secret. You swallowed hard.

“Jay…” you whispered.

Then came the spanking—measured, slow, alternating between firm slaps and caressing strokes. Not cruel, but enough to sting, enough to make you arch into the sensation, needing more. His hand on your skin, voice in your ear, whispering filthy praise.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he growled into your mouth.

“I’m yours, Jay. All yours.”

That night, he didn’t hold back.

You should’ve known when he pulled the full-length mirror in front of the bed that tonight would destroy you.

Jay didn’t say anything—he just watched you from the doorway, sleeves rolled to his forearms, rope in hand. Thick, red rope that contrasted beautifully against the pale of your skin.

“On your knees,” he said.

You obeyed without question.

Naked and flushed, you knelt in front of him on the bed while he stood behind you, the mirror reflecting every curve, every trembling inch. You could see his expression now—intense, controlled, but with something raw behind his eyes.

“I want you to see,” Jay murmured. “Everything.”

He started slow.

First, binding your wrists behind your back in a flawless shibari knot. Then your elbows. Then wrapping the rope around your chest, beneath your breasts, between them, pulling tight until your nipples peaked from the pressure.

You moaned as your body was molded into place—back arched, breasts bound, hands trapped.

He guided you down onto your side, wrapping your thighs together, bending your knees. Immobilizing you completely. Exposing you.

“Look,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear. “Look how beautiful you are like this.”

You could barely move.

The reflection was obscene—your body trussed up like a work of art, your face flushed, lips parted. And Jay, still fully dressed behind you, gazing at you like a god with his offering.

“You’re not allowed to close your eyes,” he warned, pressing a kiss to your throat. “You watch me ruin you.”

Then his fingers found your clit—slow circles, maddening. You moaned, thighs straining against the ropes.

“Already wet,” he growled. “Just from being tied.”

He didn’t stop.

Fingers slick with your arousal, he slid two into your dripping core, curling them just right. His free hand wrapped around your throat, gently pressing—not enough to choke, just enough to make you whimper.

“I could watch you come like this forever,” Jay rasped. “So helpless. So fucking needy.”

Your orgasm hit hard. Your body convulsed, muscles twitching, but you couldn’t move.

And he didn’t stop.

“Again,” he ordered, fingers thrusting relentlessly. “You don’t get to stop until I say.”

“Jay—please—too much—!”

Another orgasm. And another. You were shaking, sobbing, the ropes pressing tighter as your body thrashed.

Jay climbed onto the bed, kneeling behind you, unzipping his pants.

“You still with me, sweetheart?” he asked softly, voice suddenly tender.

You nodded weakly, eyes dazed. “Yes.”

“Good girl.”

He lined himself up—and slid in slowly.

You screamed.

Not in pain. In devastation. In pleasure that blurred into something spiritual.

“Look,” he reminded you, reaching up to grab your face and turn it toward the mirror. “Don’t you dare look away.”

You saw it all. The way he filled you. The way your body welcomed him, even as it trembled. His hips snapped forward, and your breath caught again.

And then his voice broke.

“I love you.”

You froze.

But he didn’t stop moving. His thrusts grew deeper. Slower. More desperate.

“I tried to stay away,” he whispered hoarsely. “Tried to just protect you. But I can’t. I can’t pretend anymore.”

He leaned forward, forehead pressing to yours.

“You’re mine, Y/N. Not just your body. Everything. Your mind. Your heart. I’d burn the world for you.”

Your eyes welled with tears, half from overstimulation, half from the weight of it all.

And still, he moved inside you. Worshipping you. Losing himself.

“I love you,” he said again, voice cracking. “Even if it ruins me.”

You kissed him.

Through the tears. Through the trembling. You kissed him because it was true.

“I love you too,” you whispered.

He came with a groan, holding you tight, face buried in your neck as your name broke from his lips like prayer.

And after? He untied you slowly, reverently. Massaging your wrists. Stroking your thighs. Wrapping you in his arms beneath the covers like you were something sacred.

And the mirror stayed there.

So neither of you could forget what love really looked like—tangled, bound, breathless, and whole.

➽──────────────❥

#inbox open #imagine #kpop #enhypen imagines #enhypen #kpop x reader #jay x you #enhypen jay #jay x y/n #jay x reader #jay smut #jay hard thoughts #jay smau #jay enhypen

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bigfatbimbo · 10 months ago

Note

holyyyy shitttt I’ve never run into a writing blog I agree with so much! refusal to write dom!male characters? you’re speaking my language here, seriously! the sub bill fic/concept was so godly too actually what the fuck?????

despite that — I actually came here to speak about Stanford lol. I’d just be so curious to hear any thoughts you have on sub! ford really, whether hcs, a drabble, or just you going on a general little rant over how you think he’d be like. sorry if this is too vague!!!

a/n — anon, your so real!! I literally cannot write dom!male characters without getting icked out — also i’m glad you liked the bill fic!

warnings — dom!reader, sub!ford, gender-neutral reader, mentions of various kinks

summary — [SMUT] headcanons of reader and sub!Ford

ᯓ★ I genuinely do not know why people would be think this man doms, he is such a bottom.

ᯓ★ He has very little experience, maybe he got lucky at a party in college or met a hot alien during his time in the portal, but he might as well be a virgin.

ᯓ★ He’d probably be very nervous your first time together, fumbling taking his clothes off, not knowing where to start.

ᯓ★ His confidence has come along way but he’s still a nerd at heart, and he’d get flustered so easily.

ᯓ★ His praise kink would be so unmatched.

ᯓ★ Call him good and smart while talking him through it, he deals with so many high tension situations, he’d love you to be soft with him.

ᯓ★ “Pretty boy” would ruin him. After being bullied for being a freak all his life, even if he is genuinely over it now, it’s still be jarring to be praised for his looks.

ᯓ★ He would literally feel such a relief when you tell him you’d be leading, like “ah, yes. perhaps that’s.. a good idea.”

ᯓ★ Ford is probably immensely touch-starved after everything he’s been through. He’d want you to touch him literally everywhere.

ᯓ★ He would probably be pretty vanilla, anything to crazy would freak him out.

ᯓ★ Not a fan of degradation, where is the pleasure in being openly mocked by a loved one?

ᯓ★ After a little bit, he would probably feel bad for making you do all the work, so he’d try to do things for you to make it up to you.

ᯓ★ However, only to realize he wants constant reassurance while doing that too. Even when he’s fingering you and treating you nice, a ‘good boy’ every now and then would make him fold.

ᯓ★ And it’s probably always deserved too.. He’s a genius and a scientist, it’s not crazy to say he knows a thing or two about anatomy. Things to enhance your pleasure.

ᯓ★ Would love pegging, probably already knows about it, but you’d still have to ask first. And even then he’d be incredibly nervous and not masking it well.

ᯓ★ Probably cannot go for a long time or do that many rounds. Look, he’s old… I don’t know what you people expect when you’re into a 60+ year old man.

ᯓ★ Will always help out during aftercare no matter how tired out he is. Even if you insist he rest, he’ll still get you glass of water at the very least.

#gravity falls x reader #stanford pines x reader #dom reader #inbox open #stanford pines x you #gravity falls x you

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sturnsmadl · 9 months ago

Text

bf!matt headcannons!

warnings!- swearing, angst (light ig), mostly fluff, some smut, not proof read, lover boy matt tbh, cuddling, kissing, idk what else :).

bf!matt who loves holding hands.

bf!matt who is possessive at parties.

"who's that?"

"some drunk guy. thought i was his girl."

"right.."

kisses you

bf!matt who refuses to let you do anything.

"the laundry.."

"nuh uh. move."

bf!matt who ties your shoelaces for you.

"i can do it matt."

"so can i."

bf!matt who keeps his hands warm in your jeans back pocket.

bf!matt who loves physical touch.

bf!matt who always drags you on late night walks during fall.

"we went last nightt!!"

"babe. fall doesn't last forever."

bf!matt who wipe your tears and hugs you when your upset.

"shh..your okay.."

bf!matt who adores carrying you.

"matt i can walk."

"i knowww. but carrying you is fun."

bf!matt who gets you a cat.

"its for you!"

"is it..?"

"i mean...mainly me..but yeah.."

bf!matt who can't stop touching you.

"matt its too hot. let go."

"your too hot."

"fuck off matt."

laughs

bf!matt who isn't massive on PDA but will do small touches.

bf!matt who loves hooking up in his car.

"fuck...yes baby.."

"matt! yes..fuck! yes!"

bf!matt who gets hard from you just sitting in his lap.

bf!matt who is definite that you're the mother of his children.

"we all have that phase matt."

"its not a phase. she's gonna be the mother of my kids chris."

"okay buddy.."

bf!matt who buys you a lot of makeup.

bf!matt who loves giving you hugs and cuddling.

"hi baby."

"oh hi. your back early huh?"

"yep..cuddles?"

bf!matt who made you your own drawer in his room.

bf!matt who always wants to be helping you.

"okay..lets wash this hair. huh?"

"i can wash it.."

"your tired and i love you so im gonna help."

bf!matt who needs to be near you at all times.

"where'd you go?!"

"to the bathroom.."

"jesus..could've told me.."

"wha- yeah..okay. go to sleep."

bf!matt who sits outside the shower door while you shower.

"and i was thinking. what if i just taught you to drive?"

"do we need to talk about this while im showering?"

bf!matt who loves filming sex tapes, especially backshots.

bf!matt who is extremely moody when you're gone.

"matt can you take the-"

"fuck off!"

"jesus..the fuck happened to you.."

bf!matt who hates arguing but you clearly pushed too far.

"probably my other man."

"what...?"

"what? i was kidding..matt.."

bf!matt who gives you silent treatment all day.

"can we talk..matt? come on.."

bf!matt who just cooks for himself he's so mad.

"you made my favourite? oh.."

walks away with a plate for himself

"fucking hell.."

bf!matt who doesn't pay attention to your apologies.

bf!matt who shoves past you, not realising how strong he is.

bf!matt who feels horrible when he accidentally hurts you.

"ow.."

"oh shit.. sorry baby. im so sorry okay? you're okay.."

bf!matt who finds you crying and is immediatley there.

"hey..is it still hurting? im so sorry.."

"no..im pregnant.."

bf!matt who attacks you with a hug when he finds out your pregnant.

"what?! oh my..oh my god! yes yes yes!"

bf!matt who is obsessed with your bump.

"so cute. a whole life's in there.."

"yep..you excited?"

"so."

bf!matt who is extremely overprotective while your pregnant.

"no!!"

"jesus..what?!"

"i can load the dishwasher. you sit."

"you made it sound like i was commiting a crime.."

bf!matt who always texts you while he's filming/streaming.

"can you put your phone down for 2 minutes??"

"yeah one second.."

"you said that 5 minutes ago!"

bf!matt who lets you force him into doing a tiktok dance with him.

bf!matt who freaks out at the birth.

bf!matt who takes the drive home a bit too carefully.

"babe, i know your nervous but we are barely moving."

"im not hurting the baby. im doing 20.."

"thats the problem."

a/n- this is just general bf matt unlike my others but yeah so this may push me back into my break because its absoulutely awful!! but im thinking of doing a halloween theme, doubt ill pull throught though! im so tired :)

taglist! @bellaonthelow @hrtsdollie @sturnclouds @christophersgf @ellizzyy @moonk1ss3d @phoenix062 @pixxiies @conspiracy-ash @blahbel668 @monroesturnns @gwennybenny @sturnobsessedwh0re @xoxo4chriss @pixie-sticks-are-good @wurlibydominicfike @anitahunt @ilusa @mattstrombolii @stvrlighht @asherrisrandom @amelia-sturniolo3 @lianomer

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