#X MANAGER READER

[arsonlookers]

VERY NEEDY IDOL! YAN! AVENTURINE

Suggestive below read at your own risk~

Imagine down bad yandere! idol adventurine really wanted to be treated like this by his manager Reader.

He has dreamed all night and all day daydreaming about being under you, and he is soooo down bad.

He doesn't care if he would be the top or the bottom in the relationship at all.

all he cares about is you and him together, being intimate, being lovely dovely with each other being able to love and be loved back, that's all inside his mind.

Imagine just how yandere! Adventurine would go down on his knees and begs you to just fuck him, even better if you made him pussy drunk at all. he will be ecstatic and even incoherently thank you non-stop

"ThaThank you~ ahhh~~ mmmnn~ ahh~ Thankyou~thank-thank you baby~ agghbabyy~ "

He will never let go of your leg unless you give him all he wants, and he will even shamelessly make a bet with your dignity on the line so if you either lose or win he will have an advantage one way or the other.

After all, he doesn't want to lose this chance to be able to fuck his sexy and lovely manager~

just push more against his d!ck he loves the feeling of your heels just pushing against his member and looking at you with his love-sick eyes. Don't ever lose eye contact with this man because he will grip harder on your leg if you look away even for a second.

"Look at me~ please just look at me~ "

He loves how soft your thighs are and how plush it is against his face, and even snuggles his cheeks against your thigh while keeping eye contact, he can smell your arousal because of how close he is to your private and he is just as turned on as you.

he will tease You about it but he is no better since you can clearly see his packing under your heels and even with your heels on you can feel how he is getting bigger than before which is not normal at all.

With your dirty mind, you start to imagine just how hard he can get and just how good he would feel inside you.

with lust-filled eyes, you just can't look away from his obsessed and lustful gaze.

Imagine after all this is happening it will end up from just pushing his member down by your heels to literally sitting on his face shamelessly putting more strength and griping on your sides to not lose the sensation of drowning in your juices and being faced against your pussy~

"Stay~ hmmm~ you taste so goood~ ahh~ mmm~"

Praises you just how you make him feel and loves how your juices never end.

He loves how it moves so fast from him begging to now eating you out was a dream for him. grips his hair please he loves how tight and sends electrics on his body. the pain is reminding him that this is real and not a dream.

That you are in front of his face eating you out and hearing your godly lovely moans and whimpers. He will forever cherish this moment and nonstop imagine this every moment of his life.

he is in your mercy so please give him more~

"Ahhh~ hmm~ more~ just mo-more~ stay like this ~ forever ahh~ you taste sofckingGoood~ahggghhh~~"

Its even better if not just this position you know~ he can do all and if possible he will do ALL with you~ He means it~

E.V.E.R.Y. S.I.N.G.L.E. P.O.S.I.T.I.O.N.

Until you pass out~ and even if you do pass out, don't really expect he will just stop ~ no honey~ he will continue even after that~

"you need something baby?"

don't really worry he does take good after care for you. you cant walk? he will serve you breakfast in bed

You want to go to the restroom, he will take you there

He will be at your beck and call. just call him anywhere, everytime, and anything he dont really care he will ditch everything in a matter if seconds. FOR. YOU.~

Art is not mine!!

[maycat-19-142]

Haikyuu Nekoma headcannon

A/n:I'm back loving haikyuu again

⚠️:fem coded kinda, losing your mind, just fluff

When you joined the Nekoma volleyball club you thought "this will be ok and maybe I'll make friends."

Was it ok yes and no

They have had no manger for years so now your here

Kuroo makes sure you don't lose your mind if you haven't yet

Kenma is chill and help you sometimes

Lev loves you like her will lose his ever loving mind if you say anything nice

Yamamoto bragges to Tanaka and noya about finding having a manager

They love you

At camps you and the other manager talk about your teams and their funny moments it is a mess

So many stories that are very embarrassing

Other players will flirt with all the manger so be warned Nekoma will be protecting you

They don't want you lose you

Have a good day and night 🌙

Pixie out 🧚‍♀️

[satoruxx]

boyfriend toji asks you to workout with him all the time, but not in the way you’re thinking. you’re his incentive, a little prize for working so hard.

so of course he cages you underneath him as he does push ups, claiming a victory kiss each time he lowers himself to the ground. honestly the way you laugh and giggle is far more satisfying than the actual workout part of it, his lips quirking into a half smile each time he pushes back up.

“you’re so lame,” you laugh, patting his flexing bicep and he rolls his eyes.

“what’s wrong with havin’ a prize? i’m workin’ so hard,” he stresses the last word with an over exaggerated sigh.

“yeah right like this isn’t the easiest possible thing for you—”

a heavy kiss—his favorite way of shutting you up. he pulls back, expression going smug at your dazed reaction.

“you sure do talk a lot for someone who’s enjoying it.” he quips.

and you do enjoy it—honestly you’d take any excuse to steal affection from the hulking wolf of a man that is your boyfriend, especially when he’s always so willing to give it.

some days he’ll switch it up and ask you to get on his back as he does his push ups, because god knows he’s strong and he can handle you so easily.

and he likes the way you loop your arms around his neck, likes the way you squeal as he playfully tries to bite your fingers when they get too close to his face.

“i think i’ll just stay up here,” you comment from atop his back, and toji can hear your smile.

“oh yeah?” he grunts as he lowers himself to the ground.

“mhm.” your fingers drum over his back. “you look pretty good like this. i can boss you around and everything.”

“hah—” an evil smirk, even as sweat drips down his temple. “watch your mouth, kid. don’t push your luck.”

you laugh, he grins. somehow you just make the whole process that much more fun for him.

toji is selfish too. bad enough that he has you trapped either under him or on top of him as he does push ups for as long as he can. but once he’s done and you’re about to go do your own work he’s grabbing your wrist with that trademark smirk going, “hey i’m not done yet.”

and then you find yourself holding his feet down as he casually does sit ups, and of course each time he makes it back up he’s kissing you. you giggle each time, leaning your weight onto your palms to keep his legs steady as you peak over his knees. the sound tickles his ears—infectious.

“aren’t you tired yet?” you call out, tilting your head with a teasing smile. toji pulls himself up, abs flexing as his bulky arms stay put behind his head.

“tired?” he scoffs, lips brushing over yours. he pulls back just slightly, hooded eyes boring into yours. “i got my energy right here.”

he’s ridiculous. selfish and utterly ridiculous. it comes to a point where he refuses to do his exercises if you’re not there, claiming that “it’s no fun workin’ hard if there’s nothin’ to work hard for.”

but obviously half of the time he ends up forgetting about the workout anyway, grabbing at your waist to pull you into his lap as he presses his mouth to yours eagerly—one little prize already managing to distract him.

for someone so strong, toji can be embarrassingly weak when it comes to you.

oh well, no harm done. he knows he can get his exercise in a different way—and you have no problem with that either.

[ozzgin]

NSFW content!

Centaur Manager is always careful when it comes to your safety during sex. Oh, he's terribly apologetic about your struggles to take him in. What a lamentable curse, this size difference of yours! In truth, however, he can't help but secretly enjoy your misfortune: watching as your round eyes tear up, hearing your small grunts and whines as his cock stretches you out, savoring your flushed face whenever you're stuffed just from the tip. He'll stroke your hair lovingly and whisper praise words in your ear, chest puffed with pride. Would you find it in your heart to forgive his mean delight? You're simply too adorable.

Lewd facts about the Hotel staff and guests! Featuring Minotaur Maid, Puppy!Hybrid, Slime Guest, and Vampire Noble.

[kekewrites]

Tw. dark content, noncon, obsession, toxic, possessiveness, abandonment issues, sloppy blowjob, throat fucking, manipulation, size kink, overstimulation, name calling (cock-sleeve/warmer/bitch), multiple creampies, cunnilingus, slapping (baby slap though), baby-trapping, angst(?), coercion, dead dove do not eat

***

Thinking about being the manager of a yandere!Idol

You found him wandering in the streets, empty eyes and blank expression on his pretty face. If you didn't look hard you might've missed his tall figure. Being a newbie, you were finding it hard to recruit people but as you were about to go home, you caught sight of his attractive yet hopeless face.

The first time you approach him, he was wary and suspicious of you. Naturally so. But you persevere, introducing yourself as an agent recruiting handsome guys like him in the streets for a chance to become a trainee and become an idol.

"Fuck off. Scram."

That was the first words he said. Harsh. But he was all bark and no bite, like a puppy being defensive. After scuffling for a few minutes you managed to give him your card and phone number, convincing him to at least try.

Then a week later, he called and said yes. His voice was low, hesitant—like he didn’t fully believe in what he was doing, but was too tired of the streets to keep saying no.

You met up with him that same evening, in the same place you first found him. He looked cleaner, but still lost. You took him in without question, gave him food, a place to sleep, and most importantly, a reason to wake up.

For the first few days, he barely spoke. He just slept, ate, and stared at the ceiling like he was trying to remember who he was. You didn’t push. You just stayed nearby, gave him space, but made sure he knew, he wasn’t alone anymore.

Weeks turned into months. Slowly, he started coming back to life. You took care of him, through the bad days when he’d lock himself in his room, through the training sessions where he’d collapse from pushing too hard, through the nights he’d wake up in a cold sweat and pretend he was fine.

And you were always there. With water, with snacks, with a shoulder to lean on.

You watched him grow. From that broken boy on the street into someone who sang with soul, danced with fire, and spoke to crowds with a confidence he never had before.

He became an idol. And every time he stood under the lights, every time fans screamed his name, he always looked for you in the crowd.

Because you didn’t just recruit him.

You saved him.

And that’s when it went wrong.

At first, it was subtle. His smiles came more often when you were around, his tone soft and sugary. He’d cling to your side during breaks, crack jokes, brush your hair out of your face with that charming little smirk. You thought maybe he was just grateful, maybe he was trying to show affection in his own awkward way. After all, he’d been through a lot.

But then, it turned into something else.

He started showing up unannounced. Hovering around your office when he had no schedule. Getting visibly annoyed when you spoke too long with other trainees or staff. The sweet words never stopped, but they started feeling… off. Like they were laced with something heavier. Something darker.

The possessiveness crept in like a slow poison. At meetings, he’d glare at anyone who tried to sit next to you. He'd interrupt your conversations, redirect your attention, cut in with sharp remarks masked as jokes.

You tried to keep it professional, gently reminding him of boundaries, of roles, but he didn't like that.

"Why are you always talking to him?"

"Do you really need to be with them all the time?"

"I'm the reason you’re even doing well now, aren't I?"

And you saw it, in the way other staff avoided him, how they started whispering when he walked by. He was getting harder to work with. More demanding. More unpredictable.

But in front of cameras? He was perfect. The golden boy. Smiling, dazzling, every fan’s dream. But behind the scenes… the boy you once saved was slowly becoming someone else. Or maybe this was who he had been all along, buried beneath the brokenness.

And now, you weren’t sure if you had saved him…

Or created something you couldn’t control.

As his fame skyrocketed, managing him became nearly impossible.

He was everywhere, magazine covers, variety shows, drama cameos. His schedule was packed from sunrise to well past midnight, and you were running yourself ragged trying to keep up. But more than the logistics, it was him. His moods became harder to predict. Some days he was gentle, clinging to you like he used to when he was scared. Other days, he’d snap, throw things, or go cold for no reason.

You were still new to the game. Everyone could see you were trying your best, but it wasn’t enough, not for the industry, and definitely not for him.

The company made the call.

“We think it’s best to assign him a senior manager. Someone with more experience managing top-tier idols.”

They dressed it up as a strategic decision. And honestly? You agreed. Things had gotten too messy. Your once-close relationship had turned into something twisted, confusing, and emotionally draining. You told yourself it was for his own good, that maybe distance would help him reset.

“I’ll still be around,” you told him, forcing a smile. “But someone else will be taking care of your day-to-day.”

He stared at you. Didn’t say anything for a long while. Just stared.

Then, softly, too softly, he said, “You’re leaving me.”

You shook your head. “No. I’m just stepping back. This is better for you. For both of us.”

But he didn’t believe you. You could see it in his eyes. Something in him snapped that day, not outwardly, not immediately but you felt it. Like a quiet storm gathering behind the clouds.

You thought giving him space would help him unwind. Hoping he can finally indulge in the fame he had, probably get a secret girlfriend

You didn’t expect it to be the thing that finally made him unravel.

***

After that, you finally left.

Your first real break in years. You cashed your paycheck, packed your bags, and disappeared for a while, far from rehearsals, stress, and the boy you once pulled off the streets. It felt… weird at first. Empty. But you told yourself it was needed. Long overdue.

You didn’t keep in touch. Not because you didn’t want to but because it felt like the cleanest way to let go. Still, everywhere you went, there he was. His face lit up LED billboards with that same smile the one from when he had just debuted. Back when things were simpler. Sweeter.

You’d stop and stare sometimes, stuck between nostalgia and guilt. Wondering where it all went wrong. Was it the fame? The past he never healed from? Or… was it you?

But even through the ache, you hoped he was doing better. Independent. Stable. Happy. He wouldn’t have a hard time finding a girlfriend, not with that face, that charm, and a fanbase that worshipped the ground he walked on.

You were walking home from a quiet dinner one night, city lights buzzing around you, when you passed another ad of him huge and perfect lighting up the side of a building. You paused without meaning to, lost in your head.

That’s when your phone rang.

You didn’t even check the caller ID. Just answered, out of habit.

“…Hello?”

Silence. Then a voice you hadn’t heard in what felt like forever.

“I missed you.”

You froze.

And then, a shadow stepped up behind you.

A cap pulled low, sunglasses covering most of his face but you knew. You felt it.

He leaned close, his breath warm against your ear.

“You think you’re gonna escape from me?”

Your heart dropped.

Before you could react, he grabbed your wrist, firm, but not violent. Still, it sent your pulse racing. People were around, but no one looked twice. Just a couple under the lights.

“Wait—what are you doing?!” you whispered, trying to pull away.

He smiled, too calm, too practiced.

“Let’s talk. Somewhere quieter.”

***

He didn’t say a word as he dragged you through the maze of streets, only tightening his grip whenever you slowed down. You wanted to pull away, to yell, but something in his silence kept you frozen.

Eventually, he led you into a sleek hotel, one of those high-end discreet places celebrities used when they wanted to disappear. You were too stunned to resist, your mind racing with every step.

The elevator ride was silent.

He pushed the door open, guided you inside, and shut it behind you with a soft click. The curtains were drawn. City lights barely filtered through the fabric.

He finally let go of your wrist and walked ahead, pulling off his cap and tossing it to the couch, glasses following. You watched as he ran a hand through his hair, agitated, pacing the room like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“I looked for you,” he finally said, voice tight. “Every day.”

You said nothing. He turned to face you.

“Why didn’t you call? Text? Anything?”

“It wasn’t my place anymore,” you answered softly. “We needed space. You needed to grow.”

He laughed bitterly. “Grow into what? A product?”

You flinched.

He stepped closer. “So that’s all it was, huh? A business deal? Get the pretty boy off the streets, polish him up, sell him to the world then cut him off once he gets too hard to manage?”

You swallowed, your voice barely above a whisper. “It was never just business. I cared about you. But things got—”

“Complicated?” he snapped. “Yeah. You left when things got complicated.” His voice cracked, the anger just barely covering the hurt underneath. “So your life with me,” he said, slower this time, like each word hurt, “was really just a job?”

You took a step forward, your chest tightening.

“No. It was real. I-I just... you changed.”

“And you didn’t?” he whispered, eyes shining with something fragile anger, betrayal, desperation. “You walked away like I meant nothing.”

"You matter to me—"

“That’s what it felt like. You gave me everything, then took it all back the second I started needing you too much.”

“I didn’t take anything back,” you said, stepping back instinctively. “I was trying to help you. You were becoming... unstable. You needed someone more experienced. I just wanted you to be okay.”

His hands balled into fists.

“Okay? I was only okay when you were there. You made me." His voice rising with desperate anger. In a flash, he grabbed your wrists and dragged you towards the bed, forcing you down onto the plush mattress. Before you could react, he climbed on top of you, straddling your waist and pinning your arms above your head.

"G-Get off me..." you gasped, struggling beneath him. But he was too strong, too determined. His eyes burned into yours, wild and unpredictable.

"No," he growled, one hand still gripping your wrists while the other tugged at his belt. "You don't get to leave me. I won't let you."

He yanked his belt off and tossed it to the side. Then his fingers were at your pants, popping the button and dragging the zipper down. You tried to close your legs, but he forced them open, settling himself between your thighs.

"No, wait-" you started to protest, but he silenced you with a brutal kiss, his tongue invading your mouth, claiming you. His cock was hard and insistent against your stomach, and you knew he wouldn't stop.

"Please," you whimpered when he let you catch your breath. But it was a lie and you both knew it. He'd never listened to your pleas before.

"Shut up. Shut up... Shut up."

He grabbed your hair and pulled your head back, forcing you to look up at him as he undid his jeans and shoved them down just enough to get his cock out. It bobbed in front of you, angry and hungry and so fucking hard.

"Open," he commanded, his grip on your hair tightening painfully.

You hesitated, your lips pressed firmly together. He cursed and slapped your cheek lightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to sting.

"Open your fucking mouth," he snarled.

Tears stung your eyes at the sharp crack against your cheek, but you parted your lips just as he slammed forward, shoving his cock past your teeth and into your mouth. He didn't wait for you to adjust, just started fucking your face with hard, brutal thrusts.

Hurts... He's hurting me...

You choked on his cock, gagging and sputtering as he forced himself deeper and deeper down your throat. Saliva flooded your mouth and spilled out over your lips as he used your mouth like a fuckhole, grunting and groaning above you.

Why is he always... mad at me?

He fucked your face hard and fast, not caring about your comfort, only chasing his own pleasure. Tears streaked down your cheeks as you gagged and choked around him, your throat constricting around his pistoning cock.

He used your mouth ruthlessly, slamming into your throat and pulling out just long enough to catch his breath before plunging back in.

You knew he wouldn't stop until he was satisfied, until he'd emptied his balls down your throat. All you could do was try to breathe through your nose and pray it would be over quickly.

Mine. Mine.

He chanted it desperately under his breath, eyes glazed over with lust and obsession as he continued to viciously fuck your face. His hips slammed against your chin with each brutal thrust, your neck bulging obscenely each time he hilts inside you.

"Gonna...fucking...ruin this...cunt of a mouth..."

He was breathing hard, sweat dripping down his face, lost in his own manic pursuit of release. He needed this, needed to take back control, to reclaim you. You had left him, abandoned him, but now...now you were his again. His to use, his to ruin.

Always wanted...to fuck this...painted whore mouth...of yours...

He could feel his balls tightening, his climax building from the base of his spine. He was going to come, going to fill your belly with his seed, mark you from the inside out. You were going to choke on his cum, swallow it all, and maybe then you'd understand. Maybe then you'd realize you belonged to him, and him alone.

"Fuck! Take it all, you...cock sleeve!"

His fingers tightened in your hair, yanking your head back even further as his hips slammed forward one last time. He hilts inside you, his cock pulsing and jerking as he started to come, flooding your throat and mouth with string after string of hot, thick cum.

Manager... Manager. Manager. I fucking love you.

He groaned long and low, his eyes rolling back in his head as he emptied his balls inside you. His cock jerked and spasmed as he pumped load after load of semen directly into your stomach, your throat bulging obscenely.

"Fuck!" he roared, his voice echoing in the room. "Fuck, yes! Take it all, you fucking...cock warmer!"

He held you in place, forcing you to swallow every last drop, his grip on your hair almost painfully tight. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he pulled out, his softening cock slipping from your abused lips with a wet pop.

He collapsed next to you, chest heaving, staring at the ceiling. You turned your head to the side, gasping for air, your throat sore and raw. Tears and saliva and his own essence coated your face.

"I...I'm sorry," you whimpered, voice hoarse. "I didn't mean to leave you. Please...forgive me..."

He turned to look at you, his expression unreadable. But his eyes, ah his eyes...they were haunted, desperate. Lost.

"Forgive you?"

He reached out and grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, smearing his own cum back into your mouth. You flinched at the taste, but he held you firm.

Forgive you?

His other hand slid down your body, over your breasts, your stomach, to cup your mound possessively. He squeezed, fingers digging into your tender flesh.

"You'd have to do more than that if you want me to forgive you. I won't let you go again. Ever."

H-Huh?

Before you could catch your breath, he yank your hips up and pulls down your pants and panty. You felt the cool air on your exposed ass and pussy.

"No, wait-" you started to protest, trying to crawl away. But he grabbed your hips in a bruising grip, pulling you back onto his still-hard cock. He rubbed the thick head up and down your slit, coating it in a mix of your spit and his own cum.

"Shut up," he snarled, voice ragged with lust and desperation. "Stop fucking fighting me. Stop resisting!"

With one brutal thrust, he slammed forward, spearing your cunt on his throbbing shaft. You screamed at the sudden intrusion, your walls clamping down around him like a vice. He was too big, too hard, splitting you open.

Hurts... He's being... cruel.

"Fuck!" he roared, starting to piston in and out of your helpless pussy. "Take it! Take my fucking cock!"

He set a punishing pace, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Each thrust jolted you forward, your tits swaying beneath you. Tears poured down your face as he used you, brutalized you, his hips slamming against your ass with every stroke.

But then, he slowed. His grip gentled, fingers kneading your ass almost lovingly as he rolled his hips into yours. He leaned down, lips brushing the nape of your neck, breathing raggedly against your skin.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he murmured, voice hoarse. "So tight. Like you were made for me..."

He peppered kisses along your shoulder blades, his touch almost tender. You shuddered, confused, not understanding the sudden change. He rocked into you, each thrust measured, deliberate, like he was savoring the feeling of your tight cunt gripping his cock. Fuck, so fucking perfect.

"Manager... You're mine, ok? No one... No one can touch you but me!"

But just as suddenly, he changed again. His hips started moving faster, harder, the room echoing with the slap of skin and the creak of the mattress. He hooked an arm under your waist, hauling you back onto every stroke, forcing you to take every fucking inch.

"Yes, fuck!" he bellowed, sweat dripping onto your back. "Gonna...fucking ruin this pussy. Gonna make it mine."

He was panting harshly, his rhythm faltering. You could feel him growing even harder inside you, his cock throbbing erratically against your battered walls. You knew he was close, that he was going to come again.

But then he paused, buried deep inside you, cock pulsing urgently. He gripped your hips, fingers sinking into your skin hard enough to bruise.

"Gonna...fucking...knock you up," he growled. "Breed this cunt. Pump you full of my fucking seed."

You shook your head frantically, a strangled cry escaping your lips at the thought. "No! No, please...don't..."

He ignored you, starting to move again, thrusts growing more intense, more desperate. "Yes," he hissed. "Yes, gonna make you...mine. Gonna keep you...swollen with my child..."

His voice rose with each word, until he was nearly screaming. You could feel his cock jerk and twitch, his climax approaching. He was going to do it, going to come inside you, maybe even...

"Take it!" he roared. "Fucking take it, you bitch! Gonna...fucking...breed you!"

He slammed into you with a last, brutal thrust, his cock erupting deep inside your unprotected womb. You screamed as you felt the hot flood of his seed gushing into you, painting your insides with his come. He groaned long and low, body shuddering, emptying himself inside you.

He panted against your neck, sweat-soaked and sated.

"Manager... You won't be able to run away from me now."

You lay still beneath him, tears leaking from your eyes, a sense of dread washing over you.

He rolled you over, cradling you against his chest, your tear-stained face pressed to his sweat-slicked skin. His arms wrapped around you, holding you so tightly you could barely breathe.

Tilting your chin up, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart clench. Gone was the wild, crazed look from before. Now there was only a solemn, almost reverent expression on his handsome face.

"Manager, you're the only one for me," he murmured, voice low and intense. "My heart, my soul... it all belongs to you. Don't leave me again, alright? All the luxuries, all the fame and wealth... it's meaningless without you here with me."

His thumb brushed over your cheek, catching the tears that still leaked from the corners of your eyes. He leaned in closer, forehead pressed against yours, breath mingling with your own.

You want to refuse. Want to push him away, but you're eyes gets blurry with tears, getting overwhelmed. Why you?

He pressed open-mouthed kisses along your neck, your shoulder, your spine, worshipping every inch of your skin like the devoted disciple he claimed to be. Tears leaked from your eyes at the tenderness of his touches, the heartfelt sincerity in his tone.

It's like the old him...

But even as you lost yourself in the gentle glide of his lips, you could feel the desperation radiating off him in waves. This calm, this tenderness...it was a fragile thing.

He's always been such a fragile boy.

His hands roamed your body with a hunger that was almost painful in its intensity. He was trying to memorize you, to burn every dip and curve into his mind.

He hitched your leg up over his hip, opening you to him. You could feel his cock, already hard and ready again, nudging against your thigh, making you freeze.

He... He's still ready?

He was insatiable, this man. He would never be satisfied, would never have enough of you.

His eyes were wild again, pupils blown wide with renewed lust. He notched himself at your entrance, the head of his cock pushing demandingly at your folds.

"Feel this, Manager?" he whispered hotly, pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers. "Feel what you do to me? How much I just want to... Fuck you, need you..."

"I-I'm still sore... Please, I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that and just let me in your cunt, ok?"

He surged forward, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. You cried out, back arching off the bed, your nails digging into his shoulders. He was so deep, so hard, stretching you in ways that made you see stars. He's deeper this time?

"Wah... Your cunt still so tight, you're squeezing me dry~"

He started to move, hips rolling into yours with a force that shook the headboard. Each thrust punched the air from your lungs, left you gasping and mewling beneath him. He was lost in the heat of you, in the way your cunt gripped him.

"Tell me you need it, Manager," he urged, his cock slamming home and stilling, pulsing urgently inside you. "Tell me you want this... want me... as much as I need and want you!"

He pumped harder, faster, chasing his pleasure, his release. The room filled with the crude slap of skin against skin, with your choked cries and his grunts. He was going to come again, you could feel it in the erratic jerk of his hips, in the way his cock pulsed and throbbed inside you.

"Fuck!" he roared, slamming into you one last time. "Fuck, Manager, fuck!"

"N-no! Don't do it inside again!"

You bit your lips, muffling your ecstasy as you felt the hot rush of his come flooding your womb, your own orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your vision swam, your body shaking with the force of it.

He's gonna come inside... I'll get pregnant at this rate...

And then, with a long, guttural groan, he was coming again. His cock erupted like a fountain, pumping spurt after spurt of his hot cum deep into your hungry womb. The sensation was too much... too intense... and you felt yourself plummeting into oblivion, the darkness claiming you as his release seemed to go on and on.

The last thing you heard as you drifted off was his ragged voice, panting your name like a prayer.

"Manager... Manager... Manager! I love you! I love you! I fucking love you!"

***

You stared up at the ceiling, the memories of the past playing out like a movie reel in your mind. You could see him there, a young and nervous pop sensation, gripping your hands tightly as you offered him words of encouragement and support.

"You've got this," you had said, squeezing his fingers reassuringly. "Go out there and give them the performance of a lifetime. They're waiting for you."

"Okay," he nodded, squaring his shoulders with newfound determination. "Okay, Manager. I can do this. With you by my side, I can do anything."

He stepped out onto the stage. The crowd had gone wild, their screams and cheers a tangible force that seemed to lift him up and carry him forward. He had shone under the hot lights, his voice ringing out clear and strong, his movements confident and sure.

And you had watched from the wings, your heart swelling with pride and love as you beheld the man you had helped to create. He was more than just your client, more than just your star - he was your greatest achievement, your crowning glory. You had taken a scared and scrawny boy and molded him into a god among men, a king among the elite.

But now, as you lay there in the dim light of the bedroom, you could feel the weight of that responsibility crushing down on you. It was your fault, after all, that he had become this twisted and broken creature, this monster who would dare to touch you without your consent, to hold you against your will.

His arms tightened around you, crushing you against his chest, his breath hot and heavy against the back of your neck. He was saying all the right things, murmuring all the right words, but you could feel the dark intent behind them. The gentleness was a lie, a mask he wore to hide the cruelty that lurked beneath.

"Shh, it's alright," he cooed, his lips brushing your ear. "Don't cry, I'm here now. I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

But you didn't want him here. You didn't want his comfort or his affection or his twisted version of love. You wanted him to let you go, to release you from the nightmare that had become your life. You wanted to be free of him, to run until you couldn't run anymore, to disappear and never be found again.

But you knew it was impossible. He would never let you go, would never allow you to leave him. He needed you too much, depended on you for his every breath and his every heartbeat. And as long as you remained by his side, as long as you stayed in his life… he would never stop hunting you, never stop pursuing you until he had claimed you completely.

It was a bitter realization, a cruel twist of fate that left you feeling hollow and empty inside. You had once believed that you could save him, that your love and your guidance could be enough to keep the darkness at bay. But now… now you knew the truth. You knew that you had been the one to nurture the seeds of his madness, to feed the flames of his obsession until it had grown into an all-consuming inferno.

And so you lay there, trapped in his embrace, tears leaking down your face as you prayed silently for a miracle, for some way out of this nightmare. But deep down, you knew that there would be no miracle, no divine intervention to come rescue you from the man you had once called your star.

You had been his manager, his guide, his friend… and his downfall. And now, you would bear the consequences of your choice for the rest of your days.

With a sob catching in your throat, you closed your eyes and surrendered to the darkness, praying that when you opened them again… you would be somewhere, anywhere else. But far away from here, and far away from him.

Though, you only have yourself to blame.

You were the one who scouted him after all~

Stupid manager.

[kxsagi]

“𝐬𝐚𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞”

a/n: I NEVER SEE ANYONE TALK ABOUT THIS

SAE'S MANAGER'S LAST NAME DABADIE IS PRONOUNCED AS "DA BADDIE" SKSBFKSLNAGNALGNS

“girolan dabadie… da baddie???” 

sae doesn’t look up from his phone. “you’ve said it ten times.” 

“i’m gonna say it ten more.” you poke his cheek while trying to suppress your giggles. “baby. BABY. why didn’t you tell me your manager’s last name sounds like he belongs in a rap video?” 

“you met him two months ago. this isn't new information.” 

“da baddie, sae.” you stare at him, eyes wide with disbelief and barely contained chaos. “that’s literally how it’s pronounced. your manager is unintentionally iconic. he sounds like the final boss of an instagram thirst trap.” 

“he’s in his fifties.” 

“and yet,” you dramatically press a hand to your chest, “he is da baddie.” 

sae finally puts his phone down and gives you the faintest smirk. “you’re the most annoying person i’ve ever met.” 

you nudge his thigh with your foot. “you love it.” 

“no,” he says, but you hear the softness in his voice. “you were literally crying laughing in the car on the way back from practice.” 

“because i heard someone call him mr. dabadie in full seriousness and i –” your voice breaks as the laugh bubbles up again. “i can’t believe i was shaking that man’s hand like, ‘nice to meet you, sir,’ while not knowing i was in the presence of a baddie.” 

sae shakes his head and mutters, “for fuck’s sake,” but he’s trying not to smile now. you can see the corners of his lips twitching. 

you grin. “do you think he knows?” 

sae raises an eyebrow. “that his name sounds like he runs a makeup brand and a secret fanpage on twitter?” 

you slap his arm and gasp. “you do think it’s funny!” 

sae exhales through his nose, a barely audible, actual laugh. “he signed an email once with just ‘– da baddie.’ i stared at it for ten minutes. but realized it was probably autocorrect.” 

“NO WAY.” 

“swear.” 

you throw your head back with a cackle. “he knows. oh my gosh, he knows he’s a legend.” 

“you can’t say anything.” 

“i would never.” you pause. “except i already made a fake commercial for him in the voice memo app.” 

sae blinks. “what?” 

“wanna hear it?” 

before he can answer, you press play. your voice echoes through the apartment in dramatic, sultry tones: 

“he’s not just a manager. he’s a lifestyle. 

he’s not just on time, he is the timeline. 

this fall, one man walks into the room, 

and everyone whispers… 

da baddie.” 

there’s a beat of silence before sae coughs into his hand, clearly trying not to laugh. 

you’re grinning ear to ear. “you liked it.” 

“that was stupid.” 

“but you liked it.” 

“i’m sending it to him.” 

you shriek. “sae!” 

he’s already air-dropping the file to his laptop. “too late. he deserves to hear his brand in action.” 

“what if he fires you?” 

“then i’ll become your manager. and go by ‘da worstie.’” 

you gasp. “we’ll be unstoppable. the baddie and the worstie tour 2025.” 

sae finally cracks and lets out a quiet laugh, the kind that makes your chest warm. it’s soft, rare, and entirely unbothered. 

“you’re so dumb,” he murmurs, but his gaze lingers on you fondly. 

you flop onto his shoulder. “and yet. i’m dating one of the world’s top football players.” 

“... and managed by da baddie himself.” 

you whisper reverently, “we are truly blessed.” 

sae just sighs again, but he doesn’t move away. he lets you rest there, quietly scrolling, while you start plotting a merch line in your head. 

you’re already designing a shirt that says da baddie energy. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[aninipanin1]

WHO'S THE PRETTY GIRL?

The Blue Lock players were expecting a lot from the Neo-Egoist League, but what they did not expect was the fact that their manager would attract the eyes of their masters enough for them to ask them about her.

Notes: Reader is implied a female and is in her mid-20s (25 to 27, but whatever age works for you guys). The Blue Lock boys loves Reader platonically, almost like their older sister. The love interests are of course the Masters (except Loki)

LAVINHO

"Coach-! Ehh..?"

Bachira stopped in his tracks as he entered the door to the field. Unfortunately for him, Otoya and Kitsunezato followed suit and bumped into the boy.

"Ow man, what's wrong with you?"

Otoya, who got the brunt of it due to hitting his nose on Bachira's head, complained. Meanwhile, Kitsunezato just tilted his head as to why Bachira just stayed in his place.

"Bachira-san? What's wrong?"

Bachira then slowly tilted his head. His golden eyes looked at the scene in front of him where you, their manager, talked quite amicably with the Spanish Coach.

This was not much of a surprise to any of them, for you always tried your best to get involved in the boys' training to make sure they were improving while also having ample time to rest. You always reasoned how they were still in their teens and needed proper guidance with a proper and mature adult (since Ego can't really be trusted on that part), so you talking to the masters were no surprise.

What got Bachira, and in turn Otoya and Kitsunezato, raising eyebrows was the fact that for the first time in, like, forever since they met him, Lavinho was quiet. His mouth was zipped, zilched, as he just looked and listened to whatever you were saying.

Lavinho was a man very passionate in his craft, and there are many times where he would say his own input when it comes to the sport, with cheerful countenance too. But, at that moment, he was as quiet as a stone.

"The hell is up with him?"

Bachira asked quite curiously. Kitsunezato just shrugged while Otoya formed a small smirk, seeing how not only was Lavinho quiet in front of you, but the man was also a little too close to you. Adding to that, Lavinho's eyes were literally ogling you, which the white haired striker did not like.

Otoya was all too familiar when it came to flirting and the look of attraction, and man, was his coach making it quite obvious he found you, their manager, attractive.

"Oh lord, not this again."

Bachira turned to Otoya, completely oblivious.

"What?"

"Can't you guys see? Coach is making goo-goo eyes on our manager. He's too obvious, geez."

Kitsunezato only let out an "oh" of understanding. Meanwhile, it took Bachira a while to get what Otoya was saying, and by the time he realized, you were already gone from the field.

"WAIT- YOU MEAN-! NOOOOOO!!"

The two other players jumped at Bachira's sudden outburst, as the boy sprinted to where Lavinho was still stuck on his position, standing up, hands on the Football basket as if it was his only support.

"What? Yo, Bachira-"

"NO! YOU CAN'T BE WITH HER, COACH! I WON'T ALLOW IT! YOU'RE NOT GONNA MAKE Y/N-SAN HAPPY! LEAVE HER ALONE!"

Lavinho was taken aback at the sudden frowning face of Bachira. He got what the boy was talking about as he pulled up a mischievous smirk.

"Hey, you don't know that, blondie. I can treat her well ya know?"

But Bachira was not having it. He loved you like a sister, and there was no way he would allow you to date someone who can not make you happy.

Otoya sighed and held the scruff of Bachira's sweater as the boy tried to struggle like a feral cat. Kitsunezato then spoke out.

"Didn't you just meet her, coach?"

"Yeah, but can't I appreciate a beauty? Especially one with brains like hers. Beautiful women are attractive, yes, but when they're smart and have their own original opinions, they become hotter in my eyes."

Otoya chuckled at that, Bachira became even more feral, like a child in Otoya's hold while Kitsunezato sighed at this.

"Sheesh, what did she even say to you?"

"I asked her about many things and suggestions in your guys' training, and well, her answers are very fun and interesting, to say the least. Do one of you have her number? I didn't get it from her earlier."

Bachira just shook his head violently, for he had your number and refused to give up your info to his coach.

CHRIS PRINCE

"Yo, Reo. Have you seen Prince?"

Reo turned to Chigiri, who had just entered the training field. It was yet another day of training in the English Stratum. Most of the players are scattered in the facility to do their own training from the regime given to them, leaving Reo, Nagi, and now, Chigiri alone in the field.

Nagi laid out on the grass of the field as him and Reo rested for a bit. The purple-haired player tried to recall where he had seen the English Master.

"Hmm, I remember him saying that he had a meeting with Ego along with the rest of the masters. Maybe he hasn't come back from it yet?"

"Really? Hmm, I guess I'll just wait for him here."

"Go on."

The three remained in the field, Nagi slowly snoring away in the grass as Reo and Chigiri watched a recording of their previous plays on a tablet. It was all quiet until the door to the training field opened, revealing Chris Prince, who probably just came from his meeting.

"Oh, good thing you guys are here! I actually wanted to ask you guys something!"

The blonde man grinned as he put his arm around Chigiri and Reo, one for each player as the two raised an eyebrow at him. They knew he was eccentric and a bit...touchy, but he never did this before. Reo then decided to speak.

Chris pulled out his phone, whistling innocently.

"What is it?"

"Do one of you know or have your manager's number?"

"Yes, we three have it. Why?" Chigiri responded, and that made the grin on the professional player's face widen.

"Great! Can you put it in my phone?"

Now that made the two blink as Chris threw his phone in Reo's hands where the phone app was already open. Reo grew a bit more suspicious of this.

"And why do you need Y/n-san's phone number? You two just met in the meeting, I'm sure of it."

The man shrugged, but it was obvious to the two that he was hiding something.

'Weird, I feel like I'm having deja vu...oh wait-'

Chigiri suddenly remembered one certain group of professionals asking him the same thing back in the second selection. The redhead's once curious expression turned into a bored and rather done expression. He then raised his arm and pulled a way from his master's hold.

"Nope, I already know what you want Y/n-san's number for."

"Oh, come on, Hyoma. Don't be like that! I'm not that bad-"

"I'll be the judge of that. Besides, don't you have fangirls? I don't want Y/n-san to be with someone who'll be a hassle to be with."

Reo added, finally getting the implications. He wondered what the coach heard or saw from you for him to immediately ask them for your number. Reo always knew you were beautiful, kind, and responsible. That's why most, if not all, the players in the facility trusted and are quite attached to you, viewing you as some sort of maternal and comforting figure that Blue Lock can not provide alone.

But, he was interested in how you managed to reel in the attention of the second best striker in the world. And, so he did ask, and boy, did he, along with Chigiri who listened regretted. Chris just started to tell them about how not only were you a sight for sore eyes, but absolutely smart and egoistic in your own right even as a manager. About how, even if you had that side to you, when you were not talking about football, you were very kind, caring and very open.

Chigiri responded, his words made a hollow, almost bitter chuckle from the professional player's mouth.

"Yeah, Y/n-san is amazing, but you rave about her like it's your first time meeting a genuinely good person."

"When you are in the spotlight, most people you meet tend to have ulterior motives, and even, different personalities. It's attractive to see a woman both passionate about her craft yet still serious about her morals."

Reo sighed, agreeing to what his master said. But, he was a bit miffed that there was another guy they had to watch out for. He could not help but let out a sigh.

'Y/n-san, you attract the most troublesome guys around here.'

MARC SNUFFY

"Is it just me, or does he look quite distracted with Y/n-san?"

Niko innocently commented as he, Aryu, Barou, and Oliver, watched their master and manager talk from afar while doing their stretching. It has been a few days since the Neo-Egoist League commenced, and everyone in the facility became busier than ever.

You, being the manager, of course, were one of the busiest as you tried your best to take care of all the 5 stratums with only a little help from other staff members due to their own jobs. It was hard, but you always managed for the boys. So that is why you find yourself currently talking to the foreign coach, asking about the improvements of the Blue Lockers who are under his wing currently.

"Hah? So what? She's talking to him, so of course he'll listen."

Barou said in his usual rough tone, with a hint of confusion as to why Niko had to point that out. Oliver on the other hand, just smirked.

"Ah-ah, you don't understand, though, Your majesty. The look in our dear master striker's eyes is something you can only see in the eyes of someone feeling something to someone whom they are talking to."

"That was just confusing." Niko quipped.

"What are you even proposing?" Barou raised an eyebrow.

"What if, Snuffy-san, over there...likes her?" Oliver smirked. His claim immediately made Barou roll his eyes before walking away, not believing it. Niko and Aryu only tilted their heads in confusion, not seeing their master as someone who would fall in love or even have a trivial crush on someone he just met a few weeks ago.

"You probably hit your damn head, dumbass."

"I don't think he's like you, Aiku." Niko commented, making the defender mutter an "Oi," before moving on with the topic.

"It's just, I've been hearing gossips from the other stratums that the master's have been...a little too close to our manager these past few weeks. Who knows?"

"And praytell, where the hell did you hear this from?" Barou asked.

"From Otoya and Chigiri-"

"Not surprised. You three are quite the gossipers." Niko added.

"Very glam yet not at the same time."

"Well duh, of course. Have you not seen their coaches? Childish as hell. Ours ain't all like them." Barou rolled his eyes.

"You have a point. But hey, I said it here. If you all are wrong, you owe me."

They turned back to you and Snuffy and saw that you were already bidding your goodbye to the master coach, your phone between your ear, probably another one of your managerial and staffly responsibilities, they didn't know, but it was quite common to see you run about the halls of the facility.

Snuffy soon joined them, waiting for the rest of the players on the field since it was still quite early and training was to start in a few more minutes. The other four Blue Lockers only being there due to a plan they formulated and wanted to reenact before practice.

They see the coach looking quite happily down at his phone, seemingly satisfied with what he was seeing as he typed away on it. With the four players feeling quite curious as to why he had such...an abnormally happy grin, they approached Snuffy to ask, and suffice it to say, they were a little bit surprised with what he said next.

"It's nothing, I'm just happy Miss Y/n finally gave me her number, although it is under the guise of talking about you, Blue Lockers, and your training. It's still worth it."

"Y/n-san's number?" Niko asked to which the coach nodded.

"Yes, I wanted to get to know her more, is all. I wanted to ask some of you about her, but I reckoned it's better to get to know her myself and at the same time, get closer to her. It's like killing two birds with one stone."

"That is glamourously...logical." Aryu commented.

"What do you mean by get to know her more?" Niko asked.

"Hm? I meant in a more personal level. Oh, by the way, I heard most of you are quite close to her, especially you, Niko, since she always talks about you. Can you tell me what the things she likes are? I would prefer to know it now, just to be advanced."

The boys were taken aback by the question, their thoughts running wildly, but all of them were all thinking the same thing.

'I didn't know he could be that smooth when it comes to women...' The Blue Lockers sweatdropped in their minds.

NOEL NOA

"So, was no one planning to tell me that our master is dating Y/n-san?"

Yukimiya entered the canteen where the rest of the Blue Lockers under Bastard Munchen were having their dinner. As usual, it was quite loud with Raichi yelling nonsense at Gagamaru, while Isagi tried to pull him away. Kurona, Hiori, and Kiyora were the only ones quiet in their own seats, eating their food away.

Isagi raised an eyebrow, his hold on Raichi loosening as his eyes were focused on Yukimiya, or rather, the brunette's words.

"Huh? Y/n-san and Noel Noa dating? Where did you hear that from? I didn't know."

It was not just Isagi who got their attentione peaked. The rest of Blue Lock players also were quite curious as to how and why Yukimiya thought that the striker was dating you, their manager.

"I saw him asking her about a restaurant in Tokyo. It kinda sounds like they, or mostly Noa-san were planning a date."

"Huh? Now that I think about it, Noa-san has been quite close with Y/n-san lately." Hiori said, thinking back to the past weeks ever since the Neo-Egoist League started.

"Whatever it is, I think we shouldn't really get involved. Their personal and dating life is none of pur business anyways." Isagi sighed as he started to eat his own food. After all, most of them had a lot on their plates already too.

With training, the League, Blue Lock as a whole, and the upcoming U-20 World Cup, it was a little hard to find gaps or time to care about trivial things not concerning them.

But, that mindset immediately vanished after a few days later, when they saw Noel Noa, the best striker in the world, known for his stoicism and cold logic on and off the field. A man who can keep his cool and straightforward attitude any second of the day, seemingly panicking inwardly as his eyes scanned his phone.

Turns out, he did not get to save your number, the one you kindly punched in for him the past week (he pretended to get it for the sake of the Neo-Egoist League and the Blue Lock players of course), and well, since you were kind of an elusive figure most times of the day, having so many responsibilities, he did not know where else to communicate with you.

Sure, he can use the management system given to the masters to call for your assistance, but those are used in emergencies, and he did not want to disturb or scare you, thinking that something wrong happened when he just wanted to speak with you, in a more casual terms.

Nope, he was not illogical and irresponsible like that. So, instead, he finally let his pride down a bit and went to his players to ask something that shocked most of them.

"Can I get your manager's number?"

Nothing was heard except Raichi spitting out water from his water bottle on the grass the training field provided. Isagi, who was the one Noa asked, just blinked at his master's question or, rather, request due to the tone of his voice.

"Um, sure. I can put it in for you, Noa-san."

The albino man only nodded his head and gave the boy his phone. Isagi, meanwhile, was taken quite a back, his expression one of disbelief and resignation.

'Well, Its not like this is the first time someone asked us for Y/n-san's number anyways.'

Compared to Isagi, the rest of the Bastard Munchen players were less calm about it. Raichi's mouth, along with Kurona's were still wide. Yukimiya was blinking, eyes wide in disbelief as if he was hallucinating, and Hiori who had literal spirals for his eyes, the situation making him feel quite dizzy.

"I never knew, he can be like...this."

"Me neither." Hiori responded to the shocked claim Yukimiya said, not used to the master of the German team acting like this.

"Well, I mean, are we even surprised? This feels like the World 5 incident all over again." Kiyora, who just arrived, sat with them, remembering the ending of the 2nd selection where they met and faced international players, and needless to say, most of them were not even hiding the fact they found you attractive and wanted your details.

"Right, right, I forgot about that." Kurona muttered. But, Yukimiya just ended things with a shrug, watching Isagi give the coach his phone before running off to join the rest of them.

"Well, it is a shock. But, its not like we can do anything about it. Y/n-san is just like that, she attracts the most...um, diverse people to her. Probably, the reason why she also has a lot of fans worldwide."

The rest nodded, returning to their training, knowing deep down that, no matter how much they wanted to fight off the men who were interested in you, it cannot be helped when their manager was just someone like you, and they would never ever change you for the world.

After all, you are the elder sister figure they did not know they needed in this asylum-like facility and no professional football player who is attracted to you, can change that.

BONUS!

"Hmm, I think with the power of Y/n-chan alone, we can convince the rest of the World 5 players before to come again-" Anri tried to recommend only to be given a heavy glare by Ego, who found the idea less than appealing.

"No, these four are enough of a headache to be around her. I don't need Blue Lock TV turning into a dating show."

"..."

"I know you're jealous, but-"

"Just do your work, Anri-chan. That way, we can get this thing over with."

With that, the woman shrugged and left the room, heading off to find you to hopefully ask for your help in other work around the facility.

ADDITIONAL TIME!

Y/n: Hello, I am the manager of Blue Lock-

The Masters and the World 5: Already off to buy the ring, prepare our future house, adopting 6 cats and planning our retirement days and building our coffins together. Anything else we're forgetting?

Blue Lockers: Yes. The fact that you literally just met her?

The Masters and the World 5: ...

The Masters and the World 5: I fail to see the problem with that-

This is based off of that small headcannon I posted a few months ago (i think?) And well, this took me a while to post but I finally finished it lol. By the way, this Y/n is different from the other manager Y/n from my previous post. That Y/n is a minor (15, 16 or 17, depending on you, reader) and her lpve interests are the minor characters. While this Y/n is an adult and here love interests are the adult players and characters. Like I said, when I say Masters and World 5 in this, I only mean the adult ones, not Loki. Loki is the love interest of Minor Manager Y/n sooo yeah! Hope you enjoy!

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[hungharrington]

Thinking about Steve cumming quickly - like under 30 seconds of thrusting because he's just so in love with you he couldn't help it

He hides his face in your neck afterwards all embarrassed and you rub his back to bring him back down from the intensity of it all

To add to this - he also has certain triggers that make him cum immediately.

You say you love him, he cums. You scratch at his tummy/happy trail, he cums. You gently pull on his hair, he cums.

My apologies if these thoughts have already been given but it's all I've been thinking about this morning 😭😭

a most delicious ask i’ve been hoarding 🫶 i LOVE all these thoughts i’m sry i didn’t get to incorporate all of them !! is this hot? idk…. but it’s got sum love in it tehe MDNI this entire blog is 18+

Look, Steve Harrington doesn’t have his reputation for nothing, okay?

He’s a ladies man, through and through. He knows exactly what he’s doing with his hands, he loves getting his face in between a pair of thighs, and perhaps most importantly, he is not a minute man.

Steve Harrington has stamina.

At least, he certainly thought he did— but that was before you. But in his defense, nobody told him that sex is a hundred times better when you love the person. A thousand better if they love you back.

And, god, does he fucking love you.

You’re a dream— all laid out on the bed beneath him, chest bare and eyes soft and heavy. Your lips are sheened with spit and all kiss-bitten and Steve has no doubt he looks the same. Kissing you never gets old. His cock throbs, aching for some friction and just begging to be buried inside you.

“Well?” You say, somewhere between a tease and a breathy gasp. “What’re you waiting for?”

Your fingers slip into the waistband of your panties but Steve is quick to knock them away, replacing them with his own hands. He grins up at you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Can’t let you do my favourite part now, can I?”

You giggle. With that his fingers start to trail down your naval, slow and sensually, dragging the fabric with them. Your hips move to accommodate him and your breath hitches as he drags them down your thighs that part as he wrangles them off your ankles, inviting him in.

Steve nearly groans at the mere sight—a hot surge twisting in his tummy that goes straight to his cock. God, he must be losing blood with how much blood is rushing to harden it up. Or maybe he’s just too enamoured with you and that’s enough to make him breathless. Either way, he’s aching.

“God, baby,” He says, voice gravelly. “Just look at you.”

His hands shift up from grasping lightly at your ankles up, up, up, til he’s nudging your thighs apart further. His dark eyes flick up to your face, his expression one of hunger.

“Y’so pretty, honey,” He coos.

You flush, feeling somehow more naked at his compliment, knowing he’s being sincere. Reaching up, you drape your hand around his neck and urge him forward slowly, pressing up to scrape your lips against his.

“Oh, yeah?” You breathe, your lips twitching up at the obvious way Steve’s breath catches in his throat. “Which part of me’s so pretty?”

Steve chuckles, his gaze switching between your own and says, “All of you,” before he kisses you like he’s starved of the taste of you.

Breaking the kiss, he leans back and his hand disappears into his bedside table for a condom. He makes quick work of it, pausing to give himself a firm squeeze around the base as he does— fuck, he’s going to bust the moment he gets inside of you if he doesn’t take a moment.

But you’re so damn hot — and eyeing him with a heavy desire that makes his tummy hot. He’s not sure he can wait.

He shifts himself up and settles on his hands on your thigh, pushing it back further so he can line himself up and sink in tantalisingly slow. Your cunt is warm and wet, drawing a whiny moan from his throat, and Steve’s head drops into the curve of your shoulder in an instant.

“Fuck,” He hisses, hips flexing to hold back from pushing himself all the way in—a near impossible task considering the breathy little noise you make. God, fuck, fuck, he can’t move another inch or he’ll lose it. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” He gasps.

Your arms looped around his neck tighten, pressing your chest up against his as you make a noise of agreement. You begin to mouth lazily up his throat, feeling the throb of his cock between your legs like a heartbeat, burning hotter and hotter.

“Cmon, Steve,” you whisper, nibbling at his earlobe. Steve keens, his hips shoving forward bit more as he tries to contain himself. “Want you to fuck me,”

He makes another pitiful noise that he’d probably be embarrassed of if he wasn’t so gone. He follows your instructions quickly, shifting his hips so he can start slowing fucking into you. It’s lewd, soft wet noises sounding as he builds up a rhythm, sinking himself into you over and over. Pleasure drools through his gut.

“Stevie,” you pout, panting lightly. “Can’t— can’t see you,” You tug on his hair lightly, trying to encourage his face out of hiding but only succeeding in making him whimper. His cheeks burn hotly but he forces his face up, kissing along your jaw as he does.

His eyes crease open as he pulls back and Steve keens at the sight of you, his plush lips parting in a soft pant. Fuck, what was wrong with him? Normally he’d be still murmuring filthy things into your skin, marking up your neck while his hips roll into you, all does that feel good? and oh, it does when you moan in response.

Instead, he’s the one coming apart and beyond his words. You scrape your hand through his hair again and leave it cupped sweetly on his jaw, your eyes watching closely. Swatching your thumb across his cheek, you moan lightly, “Wanna -uh- wanna see your face, baby— love your pretty face,”

Something tightens up in Steve’s tummy, heat flourishing up his spine and he whimpers loudly, the roll of his hips turning the rapid, jerky thrusts in a moment. Skin slaps against skin and you make the cutest noise at the change of pace. It feels so good—too good. He feels too close, his pleasure scratching the edge of release.

Then you stutter out a breathy, “I love you, Steve,” and the coil in his stomach snaps without warning.

Steve gasps loudly and his entire body tightens, his face burying itself in you neck as his hips fuck into your snug cunt desperately. He all but collapses onto you, his hands curling around your waist tightly as he lets out a string of pathetically whiny noises, coming undone far too quickly.

It takes a moment for you to realise what’s happened— to figure out exactly why Steve suddenly sinks him cock into you with fervor and is whimpering in your ear. He’s trembling lightly you realise, as your arms sweep down his back, letting him fuck through his orgasm.

The pleasure of it drags out and by the time it tapers out, mortification begins to set in. Steve’s only glad he’s hidden his face so you can’t see his flaming cheeks. Fuck. Fuck. He’s never finished that fast before.

“I’m so sorry, you just feel— and you said—” He starts, voice sounding wrecked.

“Don’t apologise,” you interrupt sweetly. You stroke down his back soothingly and Steve can’t help but shiver. He groans loudly.

“Don’t apologise for finishing after 1 minute like a 16 years old virgin?” He asks, going for sarcastic but failing with the embarrassment tinting his tone.

You can’t help but giggle, hand still sweeping over his back comfortingly as you say, “I don’t think that was even a minute, babe.”

Steve groans louder, attempting to press his face further into your neck and nipping at it when you laugh a little louder. You’re being way too sweet about this. Steve’s not sure he can ever show his face again.

“I’m banning you from saying ‘i love you’ in bed,” He says, the words muffled against your skin. You huff another laugh, grinning, and comb your fingers through his hair.

“Boo.” You pout, knowing he’s joking completely. You’re still throbbing and aching for him to keep moving but you know you only have to be patient. He’ll fuck you just as you need it. “You’re no fun.”

“I used to have stamina,” He whines. “What have you done to me?”

You chuckle again, turning and pressing a kiss to his temple as best you can. “Turned you full loverboy. Soon enough, any time I say I love you, you’ll pop a boner.”

From within you, you feel the soft twitch of his dick and Steve’s breath hitches again. He finally digs his face out of your neck, a serious furrow between his brows. “Don’t even joke about that!”

[chateautae]

risk management | kth. (m)

➵ summary : you have one rule; you don’t date investment bankers, point blank period. but when your best friend invites you to her over-the-top housewarming party to meet her husband’s co-worker, kim taehyung, you don’t expect the night to take a wild turn; and risk bending your own rules. 

➵ pairing: investment banker!taehyung x f. reader

➵ genre : non-idol!au, s2l, smut, pwp

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 9.4k

➵ warnings : alcohol consumption, swearing, sexual tension, heavy making out, mentions of exhibitionism (nobody sees them), big dicc!tae, against a window sex, unprotected sex (you’re smarter than this guys), ass, breast and pussy fondling (the holy trinity <3), sir kink!!, dirty talk, brief hand-jobbing, oral (m. and f. receiving), panty sniffing, denied orgasm, marking, riding, ass smacking, scratching, cum swallowing, 

➵ a/n : as always, your feedback means the world to me <3

➵ playlist : take a slice by glass animals 

Walking into Nabi’s home was the equivalent of waltzing into a bakery shop. The warm, aesthetic lighting provided a sense of homey comfort, the woodsy, though elegant furnishing and indoor pieces added an exquisite touch of sophistication, and the heavenly smell of freshly baked cherry pie welcomed you into a cozy paradise. 

The front door shuts behind you, and you’re privy to at least three dozen people chattering and mingling away. Some clink glasses of liquor together. Others pick off the appetizers in the opulent kitchen while a handful smoke outside on the lawn. 

Eyes surfing the crowd of people, you attempt to spot your best friend. Some familiar faces indeed catch your sight, though it’s the amount of new ones that settle some anxiety in the pit of your stomach. It’s not that you’re bad with people; you can actually be quite interpersonal, though the idea that many of these people are strangers leaves you slightly displaced, taking a deep breath. 

Exhaling, you’re suddenly interrupted by a familiar cheery voice latching onto your arm. 

“Y/N, you came!” 

“Of course I would. Why wouldn’t I?” You joke with her. “I know how important this is to you.” 

“Thank you. I was seriously getting worried you wouldn’t come. I’m so glad you did!” Nabi’s usually chirpy nature curves your lips, chuckling a little. “God, you must be starving. Let’s get you into the kitchen.” 

Nabi leads the way towards her grand, quite impressive kitchen. You have to honestly raise your brows, lips slightly hanging open at the shimmering granite countertops, the sleek induction stove, and the expansive storage space. She surely had an eye for interior design. 

When Nabi told you she and her husband Namjoon would be purchasing a new home, never did you expect a house of this caliber. It was already located in quite the expensive, high-class neighbourhood, but stepping inside to assess the luster yourself felt like a reality check. 

You live nowhere near this luxury. 

“Oh my God, Y/N, I have news.” Nabi dramatically begins, tugging you towards the table of appetizers. You nab a small plate as you choose some posh finger foods, attention shifting towards your best friend. 

“Soooo, some of Namjoon’s co-workers are here.” She playfully bounces her brows, wiggling her shoulders a little to indicate something mischievous. How very Nabi of her, you think. 

“Ah, speaking of Namjoon, I haven’t been able to say hi to him.” 

“And that’s exactly why I’m telling you this.” She sing-songs, much too proud and giddy to not be scheming something evil. 

“Nabi.. what in God’s name did you do?” 

“Nothing! I just wanted to tell you that Namjoon’s with a co-worker right now.” She explains, but soon begins nudging your side as you bite into a cube of Brie. “And guess which co-worker he’s with?” 

You gently raise your brows in question, your round eyes conveying an ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ look of inquiry. Nabi ends up huffing in complaint with a  roll of her eyes, suddenly snatching your snack plate from you and placing it down on her table. 

“Wha-Nabi!” 

“You’re coming with me.” She rigidly instructs, clasping onto your wrist and dragging you across her kitchen. You protest against her, grievous over your lonely plate of food. 

“Nabi, are you serious?!” 

“Very. You haven’t said hi to Namjoon yet, and that’s a crime in my household!” She valiantly declares, to which you roll your eyes to the back of your head and unwillingly tag along. 

Nabi tugs you through her house far enough she reaches her living room looking out into her backyard, another show of just how luxurious her new home is. She only stops once you both spot her husband Namjoon, who is indeed speaking to a coworker. The stranger’s suit-cladded back is faced towards you both, your attention falling towards an (objectively) striking Namjoon. His hair is impeccably styled, and he adorns a clean, white dress shirt with a fitting vest. 

“Baby!” Nabi calls her hubby, and Namjoon’s distracted within minutes. 

“Hey, Bee, what’s up?” Namjoon instinctively asks his wife, and it always manages to melt your heart how considerate he is of her. He spots you immediately and waves a hand as he begins approaching you two, his smile dimply and dashing. 

“Hey, Y/N, it’s so great you came!” Namjoon chimes, soon wrapping his big, muscly arms around you for a bear hug. You nearly lose air; he’s gotten huge over the few months you haven’t seen him. You kindly return the embrace, giving his large back a friendly rub. 

Just as you let go, Namjoon gestures towards the co-worker he was speaking to. “Sorry I didn’t get to greet you at the door, Y/N. I was just with a friend. Taehyung-ah!” 

Right then and there, said co-worker of Namjoon swivels around, revealing himself with a charming smile and beautiful, yet fierce eyes that cause every feminine fiber within your being to become attracted. 

This is quite literally the most handsome man you have ever laid witness upon. 

He makes careful, slow strides over to the group, and you can’t help but notice how long and model-like his legs are; the confidence in his steps, the assured posture of his squared shoulders and back, the sharp, cutting edge of his sexy jawline. His brows were strong, lips wide and full, the expression he wore on his face equivalent to the ruler of a kingdom. 

“Yes, Taehyung! Come meet Y/N!” Nabi becomes far too elated, grasping your shoulder. “This is the Taehyung I told you about.” She harshly whispers by your ear, to which you are finally greeted by reality. 

Fuck. 

How could you have become so distracted so as to not recognize the man’s name? Nabi has never shut her trap about him ever since the day she met him, and your eyes shockingly widen once she mutters those words to you. You turn to quietly scold her, but you’re soon interrupted by Taehyung joining the group. 

“Hey, everyone.” 

Fuck, he has a deep voice. 

You’ve always had an uncontrollable attraction towards deep voices. 

That aside, you tug at Nabi’s arms encircling your bicep, gently rebuking her in a (hopefully) discreet voice. 

“Nabi, what the hell? I thought I told you I wasn’t up for this?” 

Clearly, you’re horrid at whispering because Namjoon and Taehyung across from you both fall silent, causing enough awkward tension in the air for Nabi to crack a very fake, deliberately polite smile. 

“Sorry, boys. Would you excuse us?” 

Nabi quickly ensnares your wrist to angrily tug you into a separate room, presuming it’s a guest room. She turns towards you after shutting the door with baffled eyes and firmly crossed arms, evidently pissed. 

“Y/N, what the fuck?!” 

“What, Nabi?” 

“Why would you say that when he was literally right there?” Nabi gestures for emphasis. 

You grievously sigh, despising that you were falling into this frustrating line of discussion again. You know all about this, Taehyung, your best friend has been trying to get on your radar. It’s not exactly exclusive information that you’re single. It’s painstakingly obvious being one of the only unmarried and childless friends among your peers. It’s what makes all of them seek out copious amounts of men for you to finally get hitched with. But there’s always the satirical element to every time you meet any of them; they all usually fall into the same pattern of failure. 

They’re either egotistical assholes that are unknowledgeable on how to take care of a woman, are far too fragile with their masculinity to even earn a smidge of criticism on the way they eat pussy, or are plain jane cookie-cutter corporate dogs. Most of the time, it irks your soul, being left with fickle relationships that end horribly or somewhat okay sex that eventually dwindles out into dry text messages. 

Sure, sometimes you get a good fuck or two in there, but none of that matters anymore. You’re tired of assholes, tired of the same routine of sorry-assed men that can sometimes never even get you to cum. 

Of course, you’re not saying all of this applies to Taehyung. You won’t subject the innocent man to such scrutinizing standards already. From what you knew, he was a kind, respectful and hard-working man. He was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. There was surely something undeniably intriguing about him, and the sweet rise of his cheeks indicated to you he was indeed a pleasant man; there was no doubt about that. 

But there was just one goddamn thing about him. 

“Nabi, I fucking told you I don’t date investment bankers. You know how I feel about them ever since we found out the pattern of all my failed dates; they were all in finance!” 

“Y/N, c’mon, babe. You can’t hold this prejudiced mindset about all investment bankers, didn’t you see the man? He’s scrumptious!” 

“He’s scrumptious, yes, but I’ll still hold my bias against investment bankers ever since one literally answered a business call when he was balls deep inside me.” 

Nabi sighs, hand to her forehead as she rubs out the figurative stress piling onto her. “Y/N, look. I get it. I know you don’t date guys like him, but… give him a chance, will you? I got to know him, and he’s a sweet guy.” She softes her tone to persuade you, intertwining her fingers with yours to play with them. 

“He has a lot in common with you, and he did say he’d like to meet you.” She speaks through puckered lips to coat her tone with sugary sweetness, honestly loosening up as you watch her doe eyes plead you. “You’d be a good match, Y/N. Just one chance.” 

Perhaps the night would be a disaster, or perhaps you could find someone actually worthwhile; you’d never know if you didn’t try. That, and the combination of Nabi’s puppy-like eyes and adorable pout, do you in, ultimately acquiescing. 

“Fine, fine.. I’ll meet him.” you drawl, to which your best friend springs to life.

Nabi happily bumps a fist in the air as she celebrates, squeaking a series of elated explanations about Taehyung as she leads you out the room and towards this seemingly perfect match of an investment banker. 

“Namjoon, baby, we should probably set up dinner for our guests, don’t you think?” Nabi inserts herself back into Namjoon and Taehyung’s conversation, thanking God he hadn’t left yet after you so rudely whispered about him. 

“Of course, love. We should get going.” Namjoon secretly communicates with his wife through his eyes, his smile growing equally as scheming as hers. God, they’re the perfect match. 

“We’ll see you two around.” Namjoon politely excuses himself and Nabi from you and Taehyung, to which your best friend shoots you a cute wave and wink, and Namjoon similarly flashes a finger gun and suggestive bounce of his brows to Taehyung. 

The displaced pair of you send tentative waves back to your friends, eyes finally, though nervously shifting towards each other. The sheepish two of you gently chuckle then, attempting to cut the nerves and welcome some ease between you. 

“Hi.” Taehyung begins. 

“Hi.” 

Your fingers dig into your Coach wristlet, maintaining a smile. It’s not that you’re anxious, but something about Taehyung automatically makes you assume a shier demeanour, his own exuding a subtle alpha-male power you’ve never felt before. Other men have channeled such power, but only with demeaning or dogmatic intentions; never so subtle and yet, enticing like this. 

“So, it seems you and Nabi had a lot to say, huh?” 

Your eyes immediately go wide, remembering he very clearly heard what you said about him and seemed intelligent enough to fill in the blanks of your private conversation. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry about that. I was just- I wasn’t-”

“Expecting to meet someone new so soon, I get you.” Taehyung considerately offers an answer, to which you honestly feel your heart slow down its erratic beating, your lips curving into a smile of gratitude. 

“I’m Taehyung, by the way, Kim Taehyung.” He extends his hand, introducing himself quite suavely. His deep, baritone voice is what warms you up to him. There’s something so innately soothing about it.

“Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.” You clasp onto his hand, and it’s almost embarrassing how your eyes widen. His hands are huge, his slender, ring-slated fingers long enough to entirely engulf your hand, the expanse of his warm palm wide enough he could most likely grab you with ease. 

You place a pin in that thought before it makes your legs squirm. 

“So..” You clear your throat, releasing him to fish yourself out of your delusions. “Your friends with both Nabi and Joon, huh?”

“Yeah, I work with Namjoon. I just got transferred to his department a few months ago. I’m-”

“An investment banker, right?” You finish for him, to which he puckers his lips with impression, his eyes bright with surprise. 

“Yeah, I am.” He confirmed with a smile, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Is it possible he’s nervous about meeting you, too? You don’t want to toot your own horn, squashing the contemplation. 

“How do you know Nabi?” 

“She’s my best friend. I’ve known her since our first year of high school.”

“Wow, you guys must be-”

“Like peanut butter and jam, yeah.” You both adorn amicable smiles, enjoying the company. Taehyung’s already turning out to be quite pleasant, exhibiting actual manners and social etiquette as you work through small talk. 

It’s almost comedic how even such simple decency seems so rare these days. 

“And you’re a..?” Taehyung suddenly obstructs your thoughts, drawing out his question for you to answer. 

“Oh, I’m studying for my PhD in psychology. Professor is my goal.” 

“Ah, at the university here, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s always been a dream of mine to teach.” You honestly admit, watching Taehyung reveal a quite... breath-taking smile, you notice. He seems thoroughly interested in what you have to say, and you quickly find a liking towards his personable aura. Taehyung’s close to speaking again until a rowdy group of men next to you almost impede on your personal space, instinctively cowering away. 

Taehyung’s eyes shift towards the group, jutting out an arm in between you and the careless stranger. 

“We should probably move.” He instructs, and something about the caramel smooth tone of his voice compels you to do so, to feel safe about it. Taehyung encircles his arm around you, not exactly touching you, but shielding precariously as he moves you both further away from the partygoers. He may not be directly contacting your skin, but the proximity of his presence alone suffuses you with a sense of fiery hormones. 

He smells incredible. 

The pair of you settle beside the backyard door, now much more secluded in the corner of the grand living room. Taehyung retracts his arm then, settling it by his side as he holds his glass of wine while you tuck some hair behind your ear. 

He swishes around the mahogany liquid in his glass, while you twiddle with your fingers. A beat of wary, nearly awkward silence passes until Taehyung bravely breaks the ice.  

“So.. Nabi and Namjoon keep telling me that I should ask you out.” 

There it is, the big elephant in the room. You should’ve known Namjoon was also indoctrinating the idea into Taehyung’s head, being a schemer just like his wife. Namjoon’s obvious encouragement earlier and the tangibly nervous shuffling of Taehyung’s feet was also a tell-tale sign. 

“Oh-please, I’m so sorry about this, but I don’t really date investment bankers.” You admit as courteously as possible. 

“Oh really, now?” Taehyung seems slightly taken aback but handles the information surprisingly well. 

You immediately scramble to clarify things. “Sorry, it’s nothing against you per se... I just-don’t necessarily have a liking towards corporate men.” 

“Ah, I see.” Taehyung charmingly smiles, and something about the curve of his pretty lips makes you want to kiss them. 

No, no.. you can’t have those thoughts. You cannot possibly be thinking about such things when you’re quite literally turning the gorgeous man down.  

“Just not your type, huh?” Taehyung catches your drift, and you let out a sigh of relief for his understanding. 

“Essentially? I’ve just had terrible experiences with them, and I’m not into the whole egotistical capitalist mentality.” 

“I mean,” Taehyung begins, and it’s hard to miss the way his eyes aren’t necessarily kind and polite anymore. They’ve been coloured with a darker shade, his gaze much more piercing, almost wild. “We’re all slaves to capitalism at the end of the day, aren’t we?”

You gulp listening to the slow, alluring cadence of his deep voice, almost as though he was trying to lull you under a spell of his own making. You feel something in the pits of your stomach begin to knot, arousal causing you to fix your legs. “Yeah, I guess so.” 

Taehyung narrows his eyes a little as he observes the change in your tone; it’s much more lax, inviting. He takes the opportunity to lean his forearm against the wall you both occupy, taking half a step towards you, and it’s now you realize just how much he towers over you. The impenetrable persona of his climbable body causes you to swallow, shifting your eyes upwards to meet his. 

“Funny you don’t like investment bankers,” he comments with a suave tone. “I’m not really into students.”

Your eyebrows furrow with offence, the possible allusion that you’re a child in his eyes throwing you off. You do remember Nabi mentioning he’s a couple years older than you. 

And that suddenly makes him a thousand times hotter. Fuck. 

“Hey-” but you halt yourself, checking the tone of your voice. “I mean, we’re... all students of something, aren’t we?” You attempt to mirror his earlier comment concerning capitalism, noticing how he lightly smirks at your scrambling.

Is that something he enjoys? Seeing a woman flustered because of him? 

Why is that so insanely hot? 

“Perhaps,” Taehyung tilts his head in half-hearted agreement, eyes dancing over the guests of the party as he takes a slow, leisurely sip of his wine and returns to you. “Though I’m not into how pretentious doctorate students can be.” 

“Hey, I’m not pretentious-”

“And now you know exactly how I feel.”

You open your mouth for a retort but quickly pause. He got you there, your look of defensiveness dismantling into one of amusement, breaking out into a little chuckle. He was trying to get back at you. “I… I’m so sorry.” 

Taehyung similarly laughs, and suddenly the sweet chime of his giggle sounds mellifluous to your ears. “No big deal, I just… feel like changing your mind, Y/N.” He sincerely admits, and you soften at the show of genuity in his look, not so nervous anymore. 

You bite your lip as your eyes flicker towards the ground, feeling courage permeate through you as you meet his gaze once again. You step closer to him, almost leaning into the arm he’s casted against the wall, finding his irises to be a warm, tender colour of coffee. 

“So, here you are at a party drinking an exquisite glass of Merlot compared to the other money-hungry mongers at this party.” You joke. 

“Well, what would the other money-hungry mongers usually be drinking, anyway?” He plays along with a similar tone. 

“You’d usually find them with a glass of Scotch or Canadian Whiskey, tipped off with rocks, of course, because it adds a little more snazz to their parvenu looks, you get me?” 

Taehyung lets out a hearty laugh, joining him as he curtains his mouth with his palm. “Yeah, you’re totally right.” He agrees. 

“But not you… huh?” You won’t deny the suggestion that taints your tone, even bringing your hand to his bicep and just gently caressing him. You watch his eyes follow the action, observing calmly, calculatingly as he returns his gaze to you. He’s much more dangerous, tempting. 

“Not me, Y/N.” 

His reply and the way he recites your name drips with sin, the caramel smoothness of his voice rich enough to want to hear it against your skin. You’re both caught in a moment of simply absorbing each other, observing him bringing a finger to his bottom lip. He rubs slowly as he speaks, drawing your attention towards his mouth. 

“And what about you?”

“What about me, Taehyung?” 

“You have no drink in your hand.. which means you’re either not a drinker or you’ve got somewhere to go tomorrow morning?” Taehyung draws out as he attempts to uncover you, as though he were traversing the map of mystery within your eyes. “Perhaps to see someone..?” 

“Oh, no, I’m not seeing anyone at all.” You immediately respond, squashing that assumption. 

“What a coincidence… me neither.” 

You could feel the tension between you two. It was palpable, so dense even a diamond couldn’t cut through. There were only mere inches between your bodies, having absent-mindedly gravitated towards each other. Something’s compelling you to drag him into a room or get him out of here, to stick by his side the rest of the party until it leads to something riveting tonight. 

But your mind tells you this isn’t a good idea. Sure, despite being an investment banker, Taehyung was certainly sweet and kind, even a delicious man of sin who just looks like he’d let a woman ride his face into the sunset. However, they all seem like that at first until they eventually reveal the beastly, harsh truths behind their unappealing characters, knowing that as much as you feel tempted, whenever you made decisions with your pussy, it didn’t go very well. 

“I um… I’m gonna go find Nabi and see if she needs help with dinner.” You stupidly derail the conversation, Taehyung springing back into his courteous persona from before, as though he were also awakened from a trance. “It was great meeting you, Taehyung.. And I see where our friends think we could be a good match but I just… I don’t think we’re a good idea. I hope you can understand.” 

It’s only right. You don’t date investment bankers, and he’s not into PhD students, it makes perfect sense for you two to not tread any further than this. 

“Yeah, yeah.. Of course.” Taehyung sweetly smiles, not revealing any hurt or immature offence, but rather mutual understanding, thankful he was surprisingly so compassionate.

“It's okay, Y/N. I agree, it only makes sense.” He admits, propping his arm off the wall. “I’ll see you around the party, alright?” 

“Of course, enjoy yourself as well.” You politely reply. 

“Take care of yourself, Y/N.” He considerately bids a farewell, and it honestly feels good to hear such words. 

You kindly wave him off as he lets you go, appreciating how gentlemanly he was, and shooting him a grateful grin. “Take care, Taehyung. I’ll see you around.” 

Taehyung rams you against the front door, his full lips devouring every inch of your hot mouth. He breathes impatiently. 

“When you said see you around, I didn’t think you meant in my apartment.” 

Here you were; dress falling off your shoulders, wine drunk, and shoving your tongue down Kim Taehyung’s throat. You moan, feeling the power of his manhandling, the sheer, rough carnality to his movements absolutely riveting. You remain shoved up against the door of this high-rise apartment, his knee nestled between your legs as his large hands desperately tug your lips onto his. 

“Shut up and kiss me.” You breathe harshly as you dive in for his tongue, impatient with your movements as Taehyung laughs. 

Nabi was the instigator, the goddamn game master of this entire play because if it weren’t for her, you wouldn’t be licking into Kim Taehyung’s mouth in his luxurious, 17th-floor apartment at 2AM in the morning. 

She’s the one who suggested you all keep drinking her expensive wine, always bringing out another bottle the minute the previous one finished. You didn’t want to make things awkward with Taehyung for the rest of the party, what with him being a quite pleasant man, and a possible, potential friend, so you self-determined your earlier farewell to be temporary. 

He joined you, Nabi and Namjoon in keeping yourselves entertained all night, having laughed, joked and hollered together the more progressively drunk you all became. Nabi was always a schemer, honestly, because she knew wine always made you exponentially horny, and you had already been daydreaming of what Taehyung’s lips would feel like sucking on your throat. 

You don’t need to imagine it anymore, though, because right now, he popped off your mouth to trail kisses along the edge of your jawline, moaning his name as you desperately tugged at his beautiful locks of nearly-raven hair. 

“Fuck, Taehyung..” 

“Y/N..” 

The way he says your name in his deep voice leaves even more arousal pooling in your panties. His lips skim down the column of your throat as you throw your head back, eventually latching onto your pulse point. He lays tender, slow kisses before wrapping his lips completely around your skin, suckling and licking generously. 

Perhaps Nabi isn’t to blame at all when you recall the night. It wasn’t her fault the irreversible sexual tension you and Taehyung had established between each other ever since your conversation. It was lingering, evident, magnetic anytime you two even brushed arms. You didn’t miss the amount of times you caught him already staring at you, that one look of his so alluringly wild; and he could never keep his eyes off the way your legs squirmed anytime he even so much as lowered the tone of his voice. 

Hours of painstaking tension later, you were both outside and near his car. You allowed him to show you the upscale features of his Benz as you watched him with arrant horniness. He just seemed so sexy when he was demonstrating something, so caught up in your arousing thoughts, you actually misstepped and nearly fell over. 

You didn’t, though, because Taehyung immediately wrapped his arms around your waist to steady you, and the one, hooded-eyed, tipsy look of lust you gave him caused Taehyung to suddenly pull you flush against his body, and crash his lips against yours. 

Now, you were both hungrily eating at each other, tasting wine and pure desire on each other’s dancing tongues. Taehyung, shortly after his wet kisses along your neck, pulls you off the door. Shoes and your purse are removed along with jackets, Taehyung swiveling you around to walk you back into his apartment. 

You both carefully step back as Taehyung peels off his suit jacket, your hands quickly shredding them off his body too. You trail your red nails all over his chest and torso, nearly angry at his dress shirt, gatekeeping his skin from you. You can feel how deliciously sculpted he is, and it makes your pussy palpitate.

You can’t help the moan that escapes you as he rapidly rips off his tie, disconnecting for a mere millisecond to tug it entirely off until it’s tossed away, grabbing your face once again for messy kisses. 

The pair of you waddle far back enough your back contacts the seamless glass all of a sudden, breaking away to observe your surroundings. You breathe harshly as you take it all in. 

“Windows…” You mumble, every nerve of yours alight with insatiable arousal; you’re pushed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of Taehyung’s, you had to admit, beautiful apartment. High ceilings, aesthetic light fixtures, a grand, king-sized bed, sleek and minimalistic furnishing. 

This definitely looked like the apartment of a wealthy man. 

It offers the cityscape as his view, mesmerized by the myriad of lights and moving traffic along the spangly roads, but also, unpreventable openness.  

“Are you okay if we’re against them?” He breathes against your mouth, lips brushing each other’s as his palms press against the window either side of your head. He leans down to your height, and the hooded, flaming look in his eyes makes you throw every care for whoever could possibly see you two right now away. 

You grab his collar and collide your lips with his, allowing your undeniable horniness for him to consume every fiber inside you. 

“Yes, yes Taehyung.” You answer headily, impatiently, and Taehyung immediately engulfs you in an intoxicating, head-spinning kiss once again. 

You were thankful to have worn a dress of pretty thin material, moaning into Taehyung’s mouth as he pins his hips against yours, feeling the impressionable, delicious prodding of his hardened cock. You ignite with passionate fire, pressing your chest against his because the rub of your nipples against him feels heavenly. 

Tongue swirling around each other, Taehyung glides his hands down your body, feeling every inch, curve and divot of your figure, finally settling around your waist. His large palms feel gigantic, but in a way that leaves you excited about what other things he can do with his hands. 

As if reading your mind, they skim down over your dress until he grips your ass, biting your bottom lip as he tugs you closer to his heated body. You release him with a gasp, hands clutching onto his thick neck. 

“I thought you said.. you don’t date investment bankers.” He chides, a ghost of a smirk playing onto his luscious lips. You huff hard enough it fans some hair from your face, lungs full of intoxicating, enthralling intensity. 

“And you’re not into PhD students,” you snark, flipping your hair out of your face. “And technically, we’re not dating. We’re going to fuck.” 

Taehyung immediately hisses with satisfaction. “Damn, a woman who knows what she wants.” 

“And a man that finally knows what he’s doing.” You nearly croak as Taehyung’s deft fingers abandon squeezing your ass cheeks to rather slip underneath the skirt of your dress, the sweet taste of his breath kissing the apple of your cheek. 

“Trust me, sweetheart, I know exactly what I’m doing.” 

His proclamation leaves you keening, at a loss for more air once Taehyung bypasses the band of your panties, and dips right into your sticky, sopping pussy lips. 

He hisses once again in pleasure, speaking deeply against your lips. “God, you’re so fucking wet.” The searing cadence of his tone leaves you gushing more essence, gasping when Taehyung boldly cups your sex in his palm, and a pathetic whimper escapes you. 

“Fuck…” 

“Yeah? You like that?” 

Shit, you can feel blood pumping in your ears and adrenaline coursing through your veins. The way you’re turned on right now is fucking unquantifiable. You haven’t felt this insane in a long time, and it only drives you to relish in Taehyung’s crafty touches more, hands hooking onto his shoulders for moral support. 

He continues rubbing you just like that, smearing your essence all over his hand as he attentively watches your every reaction, groans rolling off his tongue. You throw your head back against the window once Taehyung weaves two fingers through your soaked folds, gliding up your slit until he fondles your quivering clit. You let out a broken gasp, fingers digging into his sturdy shoulders as he begins a gentle sliding motion over your ocean of a pussy. 

“Fuck.. fucking shit, Tae..” 

You don’t even notice you’ve uttered a shortened form of his name, only recognizing the slip up when you feel Taehyung breathe a laugh against your swollen lips. 

“Shit.. I’m sorry-” 

“No, it’s okay.” He just as breathlessly replies, letting out little grunts every time you moan. “Just one thing,” he begins, leaving a wet trail of kisses down your throat until he finds your collarbones, slowly pecking away as his fingers work your pussy like magic. 

“I like hearing my name, but I want you to call me Sir.” 

Fuck, fuck. 

Of course, a man like Taehyung would have something as tremendously sexy as a Sir kink. 

The rumble of his deep voice against your throat leaves you mewling out, hugging his head into the crook of your sensitive neck. 

“Fuck yes, Sir.” Taehyung lets out a shaky groan that indicates the wave of arousal that washes over him, watching him pull back from you to wet his lips. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a moment to breathe, using this as your opportunity to observe the city lights casting a soft glow over him. 

His lips are just as swollen and wet as yours, his hair disheveled after having wildly tugged at it in the backseat of his car, a chauffeur having transported you two here. One of his top buttons had popped open when you desperately clawed at his shirt too. 

He’s sincerely the most stunning man you have ever known. 

You also witness the tight tent in his crotch area and are suddenly filled with a fierce sense of confidence. 

He currently leans against the window, head hung low as he exhales. But you obstruct his moment of meditation, latching a daring hand onto his belt. With a feline-like grin, you tug him towards you by the Calvin Klein belt, catching a look of surprise from Taehyung. 

“Oh fuck..” 

“May I, Sir? You deserve some attention too.” 

You whisper it so seductively, Taehyung releases a deep groan from the back of his throat, the asking of his permission spiking blood towards his dick. You undo his belt with your flawless, ruby nails, and Taehyung peeks down to watch you do so. He cocks a brow at the skill he sees, observing with a sexy smirk. You tear his belt open and loosen his pants, diving inside his boxers to feel at the beast he’s hiding inside, and dear God, are you in for a fucking treat. 

He’s big, and you didn’t expect anything less. 

Your surprise seems to capture his attention, feeling the breath of his laugh fan your cheek. 

“You’ve got a cute face when you react to things, sweetheart.” 

“Thank you, Sir. You’re just so...” 

“Big?” Taehyung laughs, and you join him with a chuckle before you traverse further, and find the thick, meaty shaft of his cock. Taehyung folds with a groan as his face dips into your neck, enjoying the delicious sounds of his weakness. 

You waste no time in freeing him from his dress pants, Taehyung helping you along and curling his hand around your much smaller one. You both begin pumping him together. 

“Fuck..” he curses against your neck, and you conjure up all the willpower possible to not gobble him up like a five-course meal this instant. You splay your fingers over the back of his neck, tugging him closer as your lips envelop his pulse point for tasteful, intimate neck-kissing. You move your hand over Taehyung’s divine length in accordance with his own, guiding you to utilize the speed he likes. It’s so goddamn sexy; you moan against his neck and pump him faster. 

He’s leaking incessant pre-cum, but the dryness of his cock leaves you devising other plans, removing your hand. Taehyung huffs as though he’s pulled out of a trance, and before he can ask, you drop to your knees, fingers hooking onto the band of his bottoms. 

His pupils nearly physically dilate, eyebrows raising with rampant impression. You shoot him a look from below, eyes dressed suggestively as you tug his garments further down, and wrap a hand around his cock. 

Giving him a few pumps, you jut your tongue out to lick a slow, long stripe up the underside of his shaft, meeting his tip to swivel around and catch a heady taste of his pre-cum. Taehyung groans beautifully, bouncing off the walls of his apartment as he throws his head back. 

“Fuckkk” he draws out, fingers weaving into your hair for leverage. You moan once his tip is in your mouth, kitten-licking his slit and watching his Adam’s apple bob, the column of his throat enough of a masterpiece to have been crafted by Greek Gods. 

He gently thrusts into your mouth once your lips envelop him, sinking down on his engorged, red-tipped member as you hollow your cheeks. He lets out a string of curses once you bury him deep, his tip smothered by the fleshy back of your throat, and he immediately keens. 

“Fucking hell, Y/N.. just like that.” 

You hum in satisfaction, which causes Taehyung’s blown out eyes to meet you beneath. You maintain eye contact as you draw yourself out, and slowly swallow his thick, veiny length once again. His reactions grow weaker every time, relishing in the power you hold and beginning to bob your head a bit, crafting a pace he seems to like, slobbering all over his erect cock. 

He moans, deep-throating once before popping off, a lewd string of saliva breaking. He seems headily into it, boosting your ego, but when you move to drag your tongue across his balls, Taehyung gives you a soft push back, rejecting you. 

You furrow your brows and look up at him, puzzled. But before you can ask anything, Taehyung helps you to your feet and crashes his lips against yours, the power strong enough to shove you back up against the window. You breathe in his kiss, swiveling your slipper tongues around each other before he breaks away, saliva prevalent all over your lips. 

“I need a taste, too.” He breathes against you, your mind losing circuitry the second his lips meet your throat. He presses electrifying, hot kisses down your neck, the valley of your breasts, your midriff and stomach until his knees fasten onto the ground. 

You meet his bewitchingly smug look below you as his fingers travel up the sides of your thighs, casting your skirt away from your pussy to reveal your soaked panties. Taehyung doesn’t waste his time in stuffing his nose against your dampened folds, catching a heady whiff of your essence and letting out a soft hum from the back of his throat. The rumble travels up your core and nestles into the pit of your stomach, knotting the coil inside you as you gush a waterfall.

His fingertips hook onto your panties and tug them off, revealing your nearly sodden pussy to a hungry Taehyung, who wets his lip. Without a single prompt, he locks eyes with you above, and slowly casts your thigh over his shoulder, drawing his face towards your sex and wrapping his lips around your cunt. 

The wet contact of his tongue sets you ablaze, skin flushed and hot as your nails scratch at his window, the most erotic of moans spilling from you. He groans the second he catches a taste of you, tongue slithering through your folds as he amply sucks on your labia. 

“Shit… you taste sweet as fuck.” His deep voice resonates through your heat, eyes watching him as he stuffs his sexy face between your legs. You sigh obscenely against his window, using it as your only leverage to stay upright as he makes you weak in the knees. 

His tongue feels Godly, driving your hips over his face to shamelessly ride, and he welcomes you with an indulgent moan. It’s as though he enjoys his mouth being stuffed full of pussy, and you can’t help but feed into his heavenly work. 

Your fingers slot through his locks, tugging at him as intense pleasure overwhelms your system, rolling your hips against his mouth until high-pitched, heightened moans leave your lips. It means you’re getting close, and something about the way the bridge of Taehyung’s nose presses and rubs against your clit works wonders for your building orgasm. 

It’s coming, you’re blanking, and he’s eating you so passionately and methodically, you knew this would be your undoing. Your eyes are squeezed shut, reciting a mantra of Taehyung’s name and the hot title of sir that only spurs him on, losing your mind. 

“Taehyung, Sir, fuck, fuck!” 

His large hands grope your ass as he practically makes out with your pussy, tongue weaving through and around your engorged clit, and just as you grip him with a warning of your coiling orgasm, Taehyung stops. 

Air is sucked out of your lungs, peering downwards to breathe erratically. 

“Tae, what the fuck-” But you’re met by his lips when he springs to his feet, tasting yourself on his glistening lips as he sloppily makes out with you. He then props you off the window and spins you around, roughly pinning your front against the cool glass as you gasp. 

“Tae..” 

“Did you just say my name?” 

Taehyung then rips open the zipper of your dress and loosens the top enough it’ll inevitably slide down and reveal your bare breasts to the goddamn world. Taehyung wraps an arm around you from behind and cradles your stomach, lips by your ear. 

“I thought I told you to call me Sir.” 

“Yes, I’m sorry, Sir.” You immediately apologize, the heat of Taehyung’s breath invoking innate submission. “I was… just surprised.” 

“Still okay against the window?” He asks. 

You bite your lip with a harsh nod, hot arousal heating up your skin. 

Taheyung then tears off the top, hiking up the skirt of your dress as he shoves his crotch against yours, hard cock heavy on your ass. His heated breaths fan your ear, Taehyung casting away the hair on your shoulder to access the sweet spot behind your lobe. He kisses tenderly and yet, wildly as he fists his wet cock behind you, lining himself up with your entrance. 

“Put it in, Sir, fuck.” You desperately request. 

“Condom?” 

“Just fucking pull out. I can’t wait.” You wave him off, breaths rampant and needy. 

“Mmm, guess doctorates don’t learn patience, huh?” 

“And bankers don’t learn haste, fuck me right now.” 

Taehyung scoffs, and you want to say something, but when he pushes the bulbous, leaking tip inside you, you both let out harmonious, pleasurable groans that leave your nipples hardening and his dick leaking even more pre-cum. 

“Shit… you’re fucking wet, and tight.” 

“Fuck, you’re big, Sir. So big.” 

Taehyung likes the sound of that because a low growl and his palm fully engulfing a breast later, he’s tugging your hips back to sink himself inside, voice dangerously husky against your neck. 

“Do you care about marks?” 

“No, not fucking at all.” 

And Taehyung dives for your neck like a starved vampire, sucking wet, plum-coloured hickies over your pulse point as he bottoms out inside, filling your pussy up with his throbbing, divinely girthy cock. You moan against the window, nipples perfectly rubbing against the smooth, pristine glass and relishing in the arousal it speckles throughout your nervous system. 

Taehyung leaves no room for playing around, and begins slowly thrusting his delicious cock inside your gushing sex, your slippery, welcoming walls smothering his cock with arrant, uncontrollable arousal. 

“Fuck.. oh fuck.” Your moan hitches in your throat as Taehyung rides the wave of desperation, of searing, hot passion as he sucks all over your neck. You’re sure he’s going to leave purple blossoms across your skin, but right now, all you can focus on is the way his hips smack against your ass, your hand grappling onto his head dipped into your neck, tugging at his locks as you sigh like a pornstar. 

His kisses feel enchanting, his dick magical, and the way he fondles your tit is otherworldly, causing you to become completely lost in the stars you see behind your eyes and the breath-taking cityscape before you. 

Carnality overrides your entire body, turning your head to instead request Taehyung’s lips for rough, harsh kissing. Your lips and teeth smash against each other then, absolutely in unison with his hips slapping against you, his hands encasing your torso as he gives it to you from behind like a champ. 

“Fuck, Sir.. Oh, fuck me.” 

“Yeah? You want it like that?” 

“Yes, Sir, oh God.” You grit through your teeth as he pulls back the flesh of your bottom lip, nothing but your breathy moans and groans heard in the sizable apartment. 

You reach even further back and begin tugging at the collar of his dress shirt, hating that he’s still wearing fucking clothes. 

“Take this off, take this fucking off.” You ramble, Taehyung paying heed to your request within seconds and letting go to peel back his shirt, casting it off before his fingers curl around the hem of your dress. 

“Lift up your arms, sweetheart.” 

You’re not sure if it’s him calling you sweetheart that makes you so docile and pliant, but you follow his instruction and Taehyung strips your dress off, soon throwing it onto the floor. You’re both naked now, Taehyung having removed his pants and boxers in exchange to feel the heat of your skin. 

The warmth of his broad, smooth chest presses against your back, and the new feeling of his body heat causes you to moan indulgently, hands curling against the window. But you don’t have time to think, because Taehyung draws his pulsing length out of your fluttering pussy to turn you around, facing him. 

He’s equally as flushed and heated as you are, the gentle city lights exposing the sweaty glow to his dewy skin. Taehyung reaches his hands down for the back of your thighs, and you know exactly what he wants before he even has to say it. 

You leap into his arms, hands weaving into the feathered hair on the nape of his neck. 

“Let’s get you on my bed, sweetheart.” 

Taaehyung leans forwards for kisses, and you meet him for shameless make out as he walks you two towards his grand bed. He doesn’t toss you onto the sheets as though you’re a ragdoll, not that you would mind something like that, but he instead sits himself down with you perched on his lap, disconnecting for air. 

You peer down at his cock to make sure he’s still hard, wrapping a hand around him for generous pumps. Taehyung wraps his hand around yours and helps you, both of you fisting him together as his hooded-eyes remain fixated on you, and your eyes glow with sheer desire as you hold his gaze. 

You spring up onto your knees and Taehyung pulls his bottom lip between his teeth with a smirk, lining his cock up with your entrance and whispering against your wet lips. 

“Ride me like you mean it, doctor.” 

You huff at the deliberate emphasis on your future title, scraping your nails down his unblemished chest. 

“If you can even make me cum, Mr. Banker.” 

Taehyung scoffs, and before anyone can further the argument, Taehyung guides your hips down over his cock, and he invades you for the second time tonight. This position feels eons better; your breasts pressed up against his warm, smooth chest, his cock stretching your pussy wide open. You moan loudly as Taehyung huskily grunts out, who is settled against the headboard of his bed as you grip onto his shoulders. 

He entirely spears you over his cock then, and the way he fills you up leaves him impeding on your fucking cervix, letting out a shaky moan. 

“Fuck, fuck..” 

“You okay?” He asks as a hand clutches your shoulder blade, maintaining his rugged breaths. 

“Yeah, just-give me a second.” You breathe through the ache of his intrusion. You can feel him everywhere in this intimate position. Still, the pain feels good, and not long after you peck a kiss on Taehyung’s lips, you nod to him. 

“Okay, okay.. you can move.” 

Taehyung listens immediately and soothes his hands over your hips, helping you lift them off his crotch until you smash back down over him, a broken sigh escaping you. 

“Shit..” Taehyung curses, fingertips gripping your body hard. 

You repeat the action, then again, then again and again until you’ve developed a deliciously fast, wild rhythm, Taehyung’s hands slipping over your supple ass to grope and smack to his desire as he fucks you over his cock. He even drives up from underneath, and it leaves you keening, trading his shoulders for the headboard as you clasp on for dear life. 

But Taehyung isn't fond of that, grabbing your wrists and weaving them around his neck, eyes wild when he says, “hold onto me, sweetheart.” 

You fold, biting back a pathetic moan as she returns to gripping your body in place, impaling you from underneath as you work tirelessly over his thick, elongated dick. You feel so full, so satisfyingly filled to the brim your walls are quaking to release the orgasm he denied earlier, whimpering pitifully. 

It’s sinful the way he not only grasps you but slams upwards into your cunt as he presses your hips down, stuffing even your stomach as you cry out against him. Your face falters into his neck, relentlessly irving all over his throbbing cock as the friction against his abdomen supplies you the right rub for your pulsing clit. 

Taehyung takes your sudden weakness to mean you’re tapping out, which you are because he’s entirely a beast compared to you. He’s moaning and groaning like a mad man, watching your tits bounce as you repeatedly plummet over his cock. 

“Fuck, so gorgeous when you bounce, sweetheart.” He praises with a heady groan when you stuff yourself completely, the confines of your pussy driving him insane. He bites back a string of curses as you sigh erotically, nails digging into his skin, but he doesn’t fucking a mind a single bit. 

Your groins and thighs are already burning as your moans heighten in pitch. Taehyung suddenly wraps his arms around to embrace you close, hand splayed in between your shoulder blades as he cradles you and unforgivingly drills into your sex from underneath. 

You gasp so loudly, his neighbours are certainly tired of hearing you. You scream and beg, losing your fucking mind as you feel your pussy walls spasming around him. 

“Fuck me, Shit, fuck me!” 

“Yeah? You want more? Say it!” 

“Sir, I need more, please!” 

You’re both animals now, holding yourself before Taehyung’s face as he rams into your leaking, slippery sex. Taehyung sneaks a hand over your visibly pulsing mound and supplies you the relief you so desperately need. You release a drawn out, heady moan as obscenely as possible when he does, relishing in the ridges and veins and shape of his delicious cock fucking you wildly as your orgasm approaches, filling up inside your gut. 

It coils, your toes curl and your eyes squeeze shut, and your body shakes, legs quaking as Taehyung concentrates on stimulating your clit. He’s hissing and grunting, containing his load almost painfully as he senses your body beginning to convulse. 

“Oh shit, you’re gonna cum, huh?” He breathes against you. “Cum for me, sweetheart. I wanna see it.” He finally, stuffs himself so deep inside you, the gates of your impending release burst mightily open. 

A whimpering moan erupts from you, and you squeeze Taehyung’s so infinitely tight he begins to panic. 

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Taehyung throatily grunts. “Where do you want it?” 

You’re still lost, in a post-orgasm daze as you gush gops of essence all over his violently throbbing dick. You’re only pulled off your cloud nine when Taehyung worryingly taps your breast and alarms you. 

“Y/N, I’m gonna cum any second,” he warns you, repeating urgently. “Where do you want it?” 

“In my mouth.. in my mouth.” You ramble, hopping off his dick and immediately assuming an all-fours position, sticking out your tongue and wrapping your hand around his pulsing shaft. 

Taehyung pushes himself into your mouth and tangles his fingers in your hair, sinking you down on his length. He begins fucking into your throat as heady, unabashed moans and groans leave him, hearing them mellifluously heighten as he nears his high. He rams into your hollowed mouth, fucking it open as he chases his euphoric high relentlessly until his load releases inside your throat. 

You moan as his hot seed floods you, tasting his cum for all its sweet glory. Taehyung actually loosens his hand on your head here instead of shoving you down over his length. It confuses you momentarily, but realize he’s presenting you the option of not swallowing if you don’t want to. That sweet sentiment alone drives you to, without hesitation, swallow his cum as plentiful as you can. 

Popping off his member with flustered cheeks and heavy breathing, you know your face is a hot mess, meeting Taehyung with hooded, tired eyes as he similarly comes down his high, leaning back on his palms. He wets his lips before cradling your chin in his palm, tipping his own to take a closer look at your mouth. 

“Fuck, open.. your mouth.” He breathes, his chest rising and falling as sweat sexily coats his skin. Your lips fall open and reveal an empty mouth, Taehyung adorning a proud side smirk that showcases his teeth. 

“Swallowed without hesitation.. you’re nasty.” He comments, and you shoot back just as smugly with a coquettish grin. 

“Eating me out and fucking me against a window? You’re kinky.” 

He laughs, and you soon join him, giggling together before collapsing face first against his thigh, and Taehyung’s hand lands over your bare back with a huff. 

Morning sunlight spilled radiantly into Taehyung’s apartment, welcomed by the bright light reflecting off his white furnishing as you awakened. Eyes fluttering open, you find your head nuzzled against Taehyung’s bare chest, his arm cushioning your body as he loosely clutches you, his face turned away as he sleeps. 

You grumble as you’re woken up by the abundance of annoying light, last night’s wild escapade probably too tiring for Taehyung to remember to shut his curtains. Said man also stirs underneath you as you prop off his chest and onto an elbow, watching him rub a heavy eyelid as they blink open. 

He turns towards you, and you both sleepily regard each other. 

“Fuck, I forgot to shut my curtains, didn’t I?” 

His deep, raspy morning voice shocks you, nodding with a sleepy pout, and Taehyung gently laughs as he reaches over towards his night table. He removes the arm underneath you and pries open the first draw, digging around until he pulls out a remote and presses something, to which his blinds begin to cover his windows. 

You raise your brows with light surprise, Taehyung returning the remote to plop back down in bed, tucking his hands underneath his head. You hate that it makes his bulky biceps appear meatier. 

He shuts his eyes again, desiring to indulge in more sleep, but you feel far too awake now. With a yawn, you entirely sit up, holding his duvet over your naked breasts. 

“Are you okay with me making breakfast?” You query, hoping that he is because you’re honestly famished. 

He speaks with his eyes closed, voice amused. “If you’re a good cook, then yes.” 

You snicker a little, shooting a narrow-eyed look his way. “I’m probably much better than you, investment banker.” 

His eyes flutter open to that, watching you with an entertained smirk. “I’ll have you know I make impeccable eggs, professor.” 

You roll your eyes. “Please, you’d probably never be able to make them sunny side down the way I like.” 

Taehyung suddenly springs up onto his elbows, shooting you a look of genuine surprise, eyebrows furrowed. “Wait, you like your eggs sunny side down too?” 

You pucker your lips with a confused chuckle. “Uhh, yeah I do.” 

“Sorry, I’ve just.. never met a single other person who likes them sunnyside down instead of up.” 

“What? Don’t tell me you also listen to some.. I don’t know.. Dean Martin or Sammy Davis Jr. when you’re cooking them too.” 

Now Taehyung entirely rises into a seated position, lips hung open with shock. “Holy fuck… you listen to Jazz too?” 

Now it’s your turn to widen your eyes with surprise, both of you replicating each other’s unbelieving looks. “No goddamn way, now if you tell me something like a movie you’ve been looking forward to seeing and it matches mine… we’ll have a situation on our hands.” 

“Okay, we’re gonna count backwards from three; tell me the movie’s name.” Taehyung instructs. 

“Okay.” You nod, both of you turning towards each other to focus. 

“3.. 2.. 1.. Billie Holiday.” Both of you immediately gasp, as though you just had the most shocking revelation of the 21st century. 

“No way, this isn’t possible. You have to be lying.” Taehyung becomes disbelieving of your similarities, laughing it off. 

“I’m not lying at all, Tae. I have no reason to.” 

“I don’t either.” 

You both take a moment to soak in the information, until you break out into an ironic laugh. “Fuck, Joon and Nabi were right. We really should date each other.” 

Taehyung cocks a brow with a pleased smirk, lazily leaning onto an elbow, and you admire him in his beautiful, shirtless glory. “I thought you said you don’t date investment bankers because you have terrible experiences with them?” 

“Eh, last night wasn’t a terrible experience.” You shrug, fluttering your eyelashes and similarly leaning on your elbow like him, mirroring his smile. “I can take a risk or two.” 

[casuallyanidiot]

Yandere manager who was never gonna let you get famous.

Nsfw for this one! MDNI!

Warning for noncon/dubcon!

Yandere manager who holds a high position in a prestigious entertainment company. He works with so many prolific stars, so he's surprised that your pitiful little portfolio ever even made it to his desk. You've got no experience, no connections, and you're not exactly industry standard in terms of beauty.

Yandere manager thinks it's kind of funny that a cute little thing like you thinks they can make it in such a cutthroat industry. he's kinda curious about what you're like though, so he calls you in for an interview. He can't help his large, sleazy grin that forms on his face when you sit there in his office stuttering through an introduction.

Sure he'll hire you, but you've gotta get on your knees.

Yandere manager feels a sick thrill run up his spine as he goes over contract details while your pretty little lips are spread around his cock. Your eyes are filled with tears, and he can feel your little whines and sobs vibrate in the back of your throat, and he groans. He has to admit it, you've got that special something about you that certainly has him captivated.

"Looks like we've got ourselves a deal, sweetie," He grunts out playfully and signs his name as he forces your head down further and came down your throat.

Yandere Manager who only books you for enough gigs for you to justify staying with him. He makes you fuck him whenever he asks, and whenever you want an actual job, you have to do something more extreme to get it. A modeling gig? Yeah sure babe. You've just got to dress super slutty and let him take you in the middle of a crowded club.

Yandere Manager who rails you violently whenever he catches you trying to network. He bets you think you're so smart and clever for chatting up some pervy, old director to get a spot in a music video. Does he not give you enough? You don't need all that attention unless he's giving it to you. You don't even know how many people are gonna wanna bury themselves in that tight little hole of yours, how many people would take advantage of you. At least with him, you knew what you were getting.

You're fucked so thoroughly, and Yandere manager loves watching you stumble around after he's stuffed you full of cum. He's started making you wear plugs afterwards just so he can watch the discomfort on your face as he takes you out shopping or for meals.

Yandere manager starts to feel a bit fond of you in not just a carnal way. As much as he loves seeing your cute little asshole twitch and stretch around the toys he pushes in you, he also likes seeing you smile, hearing you laugh. He likes the way your eyes light up when he allows you to do a photo shoot. He starts liking the way you shudder and squeal when you orgasm, too.

He's not a sappy guy by any means. Really, he sucks. Even he knows that, but maybe now that you've got his initials tattooed on your plump, well spanked ass cheeks, he can start making you like him too.

He's gross, and he knows it. But he loves fucking you so much he can't find it in himself to care. I mean you're not going to get away when he's got you coming back to him with the promise of success that he's never ever gonna let you have. Not for the risk of his favorite, cute little fucktoy leaving him.

[forsaken-x-you]

Going to write something for Mafioso to kickstart some life into this blog!!

Mafioso x Reader! 🖤🐇

2 generators, 2 minutes left on the clock, 2 survivors remained.

Creeping toward a generator, you and Chance immediately began working away at it, desperate to win this round. The killer had already caught Elliott, Noob and Two Time, and you were determined to not end up like them.

On your side, you worked quickly, finishing the generator in no time. Now you just had to wait for Chance to finish up on his side, run to fix the last generator, and survive until the clock reached 0:00.

"Chance, are you done yet?" You questioned, whispering sharply. No response. You swallowed your nerves and whispered again, your breathing quickening in pace at the lack of a response. Peering over, your heart dropped.

Chance was dead.

Before you could cry out in terror, two firm hands gripped your shoulders from behind. It was the killer.

You could sense him pulling you close from behind, lowering his lips towards your ear, chuckling lowly before speaking in a victorious purr.

"Gotcha, bunny."

When it came to rounds, Mafioso always catches you last. He loves seeing you scramble around trying to survive, it's cute.

Despite the difficulty of surviving against him, there have been times where you've managed to survive. Mafioso doesn't like losing, but he can't help but feel proud of you.

^ After these rounds, he picks you up and crushes you in a tight embrace, smothering kisses all over your face while congratulating you.

^^ Not only does he do this to show his almost overbearing love for you, but it's to show everyone else who you belong to.

Sometimes he decides to take you to a secluded area just to spend time with you, not caring if he was supposed to be killing during that round. It's a shame you get caught by the survivors sometimes.

"You're so cute." He purrs, cupping your face in on hand, squishing your face with his fingers. Mafioso used his free hand to pet you, as if he were one of his rabbits.

Despite being the killer, the gangster decided to spend most of it with you, choosing kissing over killing. You weren't complaining, you liked this side of him!

You felt yourself falling against his chest, nuzzling into him. He laughed lowly, trailing a hand to your back, pulling you closer and holding you in place.

You sighed, feeling Mafioso's heartbeat through his broad chest. It was making you sleepy, making you want to fall asleep right here...right now...in his arms...-

"Y-Y/N!?"

You and your gangster jumped, alarmed. Looking around, your eyes landed on Builderman. Oh, you've been caught with the killer, how embarrassing!

Builderman's wide eyes flickered back and forth from you to Mafioso, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Irritated, Mafioso leaned down and gave you one last kiss before shoving you off of him.

"Scram, toots, I'll catch up ya later." He growled, locking his eyes onto Builderman, who was silently praying to Spawn. Then, in an instant, a chase between the survivor and the killer ensued, leaving you behind.

The other survivors are somewhat weary of you, some outright keeping their distance. But don't mind them, they're just jealous that Mafioso loves you!

He'd do anything for you, even lending you his oversized coat if you're cold, or just fully enveloping you!

All in all, you're all his, and he's all yours!

[humanjarvis]

pop star!reader x manager!caleb 🔞

you and caleb grew up together. with his shrewd mindset, natural charm, and uncanny business acumen, he always looked out for you. so when you finally made it big, of course you’d asked him to be your manager. and of course he’d agreed. it never would have been anyone else.

you've kissed a couple times before. touched some. but it always ended the same: he’d pull away and shut you out. he’d used more excuses than you could count: “it’d be irresponsible,” “i’d be crossing a line,” “i’d never forgive myself if i ruined our friendship”

but funnily enough, caleb’s never had a girlfriend. and he’s scared off every A-list suitor who’s dared to look your way. 

caleb hates when you provoke him. also hates when you wear revealing costumes.

so when he helps plan your setlist for an upcoming show, you sneak behind his back and recruit your bravest dancers to switch out your song cover segment for a special surprise performance 

the lyrics are raunchy and rebellious and loaded with references to him—a challenge for him to act on his forbidden desires 

your “outfit” is basically strips of fabric, and the way you’re practically flashing the audience nearly gives him a heart attack

he wants to pull you down from the stage. wants to stop the show entirely. but even in his outrage, he puts your reputation first

when you flounce backstage for your outfit change between songs, he hunts you down. steals your clothes from the girls who were supposed to help you change, grits out that he’ll do it himself, and pulls you into your dressing room

the argument starts as soon as he locks the door. you’re asking what he thinks he’s doing, he’s asking what that stunt was. all the while, he hurriedly yanks and tugs and unzips, leaving you half-dressed and breathing hard

the moment you’re almost bare in front of him, his anger begins to fizzle. he can’t waste his focus on anything more than the shape of your body

but you can’t have that. so you set him back off.

taunting him about how the song was for all the cowards in the audience, and maybe you should go find one and ask if he liked what he saw. he’d show you a better time than your manager ever had, that’s for sure

narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw. that’s all you see before he’s ripping off your tights and underwear, pushing you against the wall and surging into your waiting core

it’s fast and messy and unrestrained. it’s not what either of you would’ve chosen for your first time together, but something had to give. it was either this, or he followed you onstage and gave the audience a real show

the room fills with a mix of groans and sighs and traded barbs about how annoying the other is. and when you smugly tell him the kicker—the song you’d performed was an original, and you’d written it about him—the thick, sticky jets of his cum warm your insides, and you clench around him with a breathy, dazed laugh

and in record time, snapping immediately back into the overbearing manager role, he shoves your new outfit over your still-trembling body and walks you back to the curtain

“this discussion isn’t over. i’ll see you when you’re done” he promises lowly before nudging you onstage

and for the next half hour, you’re forced to finish the show with your mixed release dripping down your legs

i watched a clip of garden of eden by lady gaga & it inspired this quick outline of how i would write this full thing if i were going to. which i’m not bc i’ve already written a similar pop star au

[theorphicangel]

HELLO HELLO!! I think your writing is super duper adorable, and often times really heartwarming!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

How would Sukuna be with a shy partner? Lowkey a doormat but is trying their best? He’d be such a menace especially in a modern college au LMAO

sorry sorry sorry i took so long to answer, life is so crazy and busy but omg i love you!!!! thank you so much for reading my works i'm so glad that you enjoy them!!!

and arghhhhhh!!!

sukuna with a shy reader would be...something.

i would say at first he would make fun of you and nitpick at your lack of confidence but as your relationship develops he realises your shy nature and feels a weird instinct to protect you.

sure he can make fun of your shyness but if anyone else made fun of you or bothered you about it i'm sure he would say something.

your shyness comes particularly when it comes to asking him for things or asking him to hang out. your tone drops and you mumble, it's annoying to him but he has his own pleasure in making you speak up.

'what was that?'

'i didn't hear you the first time, speak up.'

'why are you so embarrassed?'

on the other hand he knows you're introverted and trying your best, so when you have trouble speaking up he'll attempt to stick up for you.

'if they don't want to speak, they don't have to. move it.'

if you have a presentation for one of your uni classes he'll go over it with you, practising as many times as you want but also giving feedback on how to make your voice sound louder.

'pretend i just punched the shit out of everyone and they're all unconscious.'

'why would i do that?' you frown.

'to make you more confident. duh.'

he'll be there cheering you on, sneaking into the back of the class and watching. you're not sure if that adds onto the pressure or not but somehow he makes you more confident and reminds you of all the times that you did get your words right.

after your presentation you find him waiting in the hallway after class with your favourite snack as a reward.

'i told you it would go well, you worry over jack shit sometimes.'

[oddlylovingaddiction]

; Coming Full Circle

Part 1: Here , Part 2: Here , Part 3: You’re here!

CW: Reader is pregnant BUT is gender neutral only being referred to as you, if you don't have the ability to get pregnant you do now (in this series). Neglected reader x (platonic.) bat family. Reader is probably around in your 20s (21 - 25) and is the 5th(??) oldest.

TW: Past abuse in the form of emotional neglect/abuse, pregnancy, panic attacks and angst

After passing out from the emotions of the shopping trip you woke up to your warm bed. It seems someone (other than Damian, he was too small to carry an adult.) had placed you on your bed, removed your shoes and removed anything that would snag or choke you in your slumber as well, it seems they also left your shopping bags at the foot of your bed. You were starting to wonder if that shopping tripped really ending up helping you because now it’s 12:32 at night and you’re texting your husband you were supposedly not talking to and you felt unbelievably drained from all that crying you did. Usually you’d cry in his arms while he comforts you so perhaps that’s why your reaching out to him.

You:

I’m fine. And I’m safe just need some space

Him:

I want to give that to you but I’m just nervous not knowing where you are.

You can feel a headache coming on, perhaps from the crying, the fact you were still in your day clothes and from the fact he was so insistent on your location, fair enough, you disappeared with almost nothing on you and also, in his eyes, randomly one day with no signs that you would be away from him for so long. You choose to turn off your phone and just lay there. Honestly it’s all too much. These hectic phew days seeing your family again has been overwhelming. You can’t lie and say you aren’t enjoying the attention but at the same time you feel this gnawing feeling in your chest. The lingering in the back of your mind being ‘Is this all real? Was the years of neglect real or did I imagine it all? Has everyone always cared I didn’t notice?’ and arguably the most significant reason to you ‘what was the reason for it all?’

You can feel your mind start spiralling and you begin to feel sick. You hate it all. Hate being aware of everything all at once. Hate the almost never ending unanswered questions.

You quickly get up shaking your head gently refusing to let it completely overwhelm you, grabbing some PJs you change into as you do. They smell like your him, you both use the same detergent so it always reminds you of each other. You then slide on your slippers as you walk to the kitchen to get a late night snack. You’ve been have some pregnancy cravings but nothing super weird surprisingly, like pickles and peanut butter.

In the kitchen you search for some of your favourite snacks to eat lately, unfortunately there’s none left so you settle for some fruit you like, not as tasty like the ones you have at home but decent enough. The moonlight comes through the kitchen window making you think once again as you bite into the succulent fruit while you lean against the marble kitchen counters. The night is quiet, perfect for unwelcomed overthinking.

‘I wonder what would’ve happened if I stayed here?’

‘What would’ve happened if I never had gotten pregnant?’

The worst thought of all though was; ‘is this sudden affection from everyone in this manor only because of the baby?’

You love your baby you do but you’d hate for all this affection to be just for the child. You are your family’s child first and all you want is for them to love you as you and not for the child you carry.

You feel a slight buzz in your pyjama pocket. You’ll have to deal with your true family before your second, and right now part of your true family is worried about you.

Him:

Please talk to me, my love.

You pause sighing, perhaps if you were raised in a healthy family you could’ve grown up to handle conflict better. Maybe you would still be there with him in your shared home. No point in lamenting about it though.

You:

I’m here sorry I needed to take a break, I was getting overwhelmed.

Him:

Thats okay I’m sorry… I’m just scared

Your husband has always been kind and patient with you even when you found even yourself difficult. Of course he makes mistakes, but he never hurts you and he would never emotionally abandon you like this cursed family did and yet here you were abandoning him, thinking about that makes you wince slightly.

You:

That’s fair… I’m sorry.

Ever since our last argument I’ve been struggling a bit. I know it seems minor but the fact we disagreed on something so small but important around our child is scary. Because what happens next?

All your thoughts spill out as you type, like an overflowing fountain, speaking of fountains you can feel your eyes fill up with tears as you type.

Will we continue to argue about every small thing, like on how to parent our child? Will you get tired if we just continuously disagree and fight? What happens when the baby comes, if I’m like this now will I really be a good parent? Can I even love when I was raised without it?

Your sweet husband knows everything about your childhood and you know everything about his. He never once judged or blamed you for the trauma you endured, he was always on your side.

Him:

I know you’re scared, my love. but one disagreement doesn’t mean our marriage will fall apart, raising a life can be scary but that’s why we are doing it as a team and not as individuals.

I’ll never get tired of you, I intend to stay true to our marriage vows and love you in sickness and in health. I’ll never be tired of you and I won’t be tired of the baby because I love you both. Also you will be a good parent, I know it. Just because you may have been raised without love and care doesn’t mean you can’t love and care anymore, you’re married to me and you love me just fine.

Don’t doubt yourself so much. Thinking so big about everything all at once is bound to get you overwhelmed.

You can almost hear his naggy voice lecturing you towards the end making you giggle softly.

You:

Youer right I’m sorry. I love you so much ♡

God I feel like a fool right now.

Him:

My fool ♡

Now go to sleep I can tell you’re about to pass out because you spelt you’re wrong

Also I bet the reason you stayed away from me for so long is you were too embarrassed

Shit! He caught you. You should’ve known better but he can practically see through you sometimes so you don’t know why you’re surprised. You laugh softly and hang your head slightly at the fact you can still feel the connection when you’re both apart. It’s a testament that you both are truly blessed with one another.

You:

Will do, love you again. Also your bet was right, I’ll text you my location tomorrow so you can pick me up.

Him:

Looking forward to it ♡

You yawn after he sends his last text for tonight, he was right all anxiety has left you with a giant puddle of sleepiness. You eat the last slice of your fruit, wash your hands in the kitchen sink, then finally you walk back to bed.

You’ve never walked around so late it’s almost eerie how quiet it all is, when you were younger you were afraid monsters would get you as sometimes you heard weird noises when you did try to venture outside your room.

Perhaps you should’ve looked around at night more because then you wouldn’t be lost, wandering around a large manor in a sleepy haze, desperate to get back to bed. “Office…?” You mumble looking into rooms for the staircase so you could get to your room to no avail.

Somehow you end up in Bruce’s study, that he once expressed you weren’t supposed to go into at any point, normally you’d listen, it was just an office after all but the sleep made you bold as you step in.

The room in your sleepy vision was normal.

Minus the bookcase behind the desk which was moved to the side to reveal a staircase going down. The shock of the weird bookcase and stairs going down sobered you up from your sleepy haze.

“Wait.. we had a basement?”

You crept down the dark stairwell, the only way you knew where you were going is because of the small lights that lined the walls as you descended. The stairs and the walls weren’t old and rickety for a secret passage, they were what looked to be sold black iron all around minus the matching black carpet going down the middle of the stairs.

“This isn’t weird at all…” you mumble sarcastically to yourself.

You can’t decide what would be worse a creepy old staircase that looks like it lead to a dungeon or a staircase that looks like it would lead you to something like a room for experiments. Either way it felt like you were about to witness something you shouldn’t have seen.

If only you knew how right you were.

Finally you reached the end of the stairs, if you were even still a tiny bit sleepy that terribly long walk down got rid of it. You walk a wide corridor, what looks to be different entrances to rooms line the walls. You want to open one and check but your body pushes you to continually walk forward.

Once you reach the end you see two see-through automatic doors, when you step past one you panic as you’re sprayed down with what you can only assume are chemicals. One you step through the other, you’re greeted with a very large cave.

A cave full of shit you’d never find in a cave, like cars and, sitting in the middle of the very big cave, what looks to be a giant computer.

Alarm bells ring in your head, this definitely wasn’t for you to see. But those alarm bells and everything else in your head quickly dies when you see Bruce, Dick and Alfred walking towards you talking amongst themselves.

You wouldn’t feel this sudden horrifying pit in your stomach if that was it.

No. If that was it you’d be fine. But instead Dick and Bruce were in costumes.

Not just any costumes but Batman and Nightwing costumes.

‘No.’

‘There’s just no way.’

‘This is a joke.’

But you knew it wasn’t when Alfred looked ahead and met your eyes, his face paling at the realization of you standing there and that’s all you needed to turn and run.

You run back to the see-through doors, down the black hallway and up the black stairs. You are pretty sure you can hear yelling but you can’t hear it over the sound of your own breathing as you hyperventilate.

Everything you knew about your family has come crashing down. What was real? Who else knew? No, they all must’ve known. It makes sense that everyone in this family knew but you. Which other superhero was secretly your family member?

Your vision blurs from tears. They were superheros. Saving EVERYONE. EVERYDAY. But they could forget your birthdays, they could forget your existence. Watching your brothers and sisters celebrate their birthdays all together as a happy family and Bruce, your DAD, YOUR BIOLOGICAL DAD couldn’t find time to get you a different gift each year.

Everywhere feels unsafe, all you could do was run to the living room before you could feel the air in your throat get stuck from how quick you were breathing. The tears blurring your vision.

You quickly pull out your phone and quickly open your messages, your hand shaking as you click on your husband’s contact before sending him your location along with a single line saying ‘help’. You need to leave here fast no where feels safe. Everything feels fake.

As this is all happening you hear people call your name, through your tears you could make out Bruce and Dick.

“Hey hey hey let’s just calm down… it’s not a big deal! And what you saw wasn’t what it looked like.” Dick starts his own voice sounding unsure.

“N-not a- A BIG DEAL?” You manage to choke out and scream.

“Don’t be this way.” Bruce coldly glares at your reaction.

“DON’T BE THIS WAY?” You yell again, you’re pretty sure the entire manor is awake now from your cries. “You… you don’t get to tell me that.” You hiss through tears.

“Tell me, Bruce Thomas Wayne. Who else knows.” You ask slowly and carefully, voice full of spit.

There’s a silence before Bruce speaks up, “the… entire family knows.”

You go to laugh but before you can he adds on, “Because they’re all vigilantes too, we never told you because we wanted you to live a normal life...”

His voice fades away as the world around you shatters, a seemingly innocent illusion of a neglectful family has cracked and revealed a family who purposefully isolated you from themselves because they decided to choose for you that you’ll live a life full of wondering what you did so wrong to deserve this.

Your own father decided to tell the kids that aren’t even related to him to become heroes with him but here you were his biological child and yet he decided you weren’t worth it all.

You gently crumpled onto the floor.

Right before your husband decides to make a flashy entrance by shattering the living room window.

[mv1simp]

inspired by my fav @piastrification thank you for being in my walls 🫶🫶 hope you enjoy!!

Streets ♥️

Max Verstappen x PR Manager!Reader

we play our fantasies out in real life ways, and no final fantasy, can we end these games, though?

6 months ago, F1 champion Max Verstappen traded in his status as "serious cat dad with road rage issues" for "Genius. Playboy. Millionaire. Philanthropist". Since then you've been fighting absolute demons as his PR manager to keep his reputation clean in the media. After you tell him you've had enough, he proposes a very interactive solution to your problem.

Content includes: Humour, crackfic, fluff, so much sexual tension, 18+ MDNI, smut, playboy!max, exasperated manager! reader, a very well rounded fic for once?! 4.7k WC

If someone asked you where it’d all gone downhill, you’d have to say it started because of that greedy paparrazi rat Henri - photographer at the MonacoDaily, otherwise known as every PR manager’s sleep paralysis demon. Because this particular paparazzo had a nasty knack for capturing celebrities just as they made the most atrocious decisions known to mankind. And he had an even nastier knack for threatening to sell said photos to the highest bidder. Truly, it was a dark day for any media team when they were forced to bargain with such a foul demon, who’d be able to go toe to toe with the likes of Satan himself.

So when your phone dinged at 5am on a peaceful Sunday morning, only to reveal the 7th (7th!!) message this month from the very same greedy little rat, you threw it across the room. Only to then remember you devastatingly had not been born into a Dubai oil family and you needed this job to pay Monaco rent. The text turns out to be a photo of your aggravating client - Max Verstappen, F1 champion driver, loving father to two cats, and more recently, certified manwhoreTM. He’s living upto your nickname for him, pictured in some nightclub with a half naked blonde sitting on his lap. Alright, alright, not as bad as you were expecting, you could even photoshop the girl’s hair colour to match his current girlfriend’s one maybe? Well, except the brunette woman glaring behind him is his current model girlfriend of the month. You hear a ding, another text from Henri - this time with just a 😈 and 💸👀. You throw the phone back against wall.

Three hours later you’ve cleaned up the PR nightmare and are banging on Max’s apartment door. He blearily lets you in, shirtless and still looking half drunk, but you don’t hesitate to yank him by his beltloops and drag him to the dining table (after quickly checking out that broad chest of his, though, cause goddamn. You’re just a girl.)

Ow, ow, what the hell, Max groans as he’s shoved into a chair. Please. As if you could do any real damage in your 5 foot frame to the 6 foot driver. Slamming your hands on the table for some dramatic flourish (you’re never beating the theatre kid allegations) you give the Dutchman a piece of your mind, demanding to know what his problem is, does he know how many people you’ve had to bribe this month to stop #SluttyMaxEra trending on twitter?? And yes, you know he broke up with Kelly 10 months ago but can’t he just process this healthily and go to therapy instead of having a hoe phase and hooking up with every third woman in Monaco?

Max looks insulted at this slight to his honor. He retaliates by accusing you of buying into the patriarchy and slut shaming him (-That’s not how that works but pop off king, is your deadpan response), and telling you he’s very much over Kelly, okay, it was an amicable breakup (-Sure, Verstappen, that’s why you’d only played Lana Del Ray for a whole month afterwards, huh?) and well, what’s the issue, he’s a hot and rich guy in Monaco, it’s not his fault women just want him? Would it not be #misogynistic of him to deny women the opportunity to explore their sexuality?! He smirks, pleased with his defence.

You groan, slumping down on a chair and burying your face in your hands, muffling your groan of wholesome cat dad Max comeback whennn. Max rolls his eyes at your theatrics, asking if you’d finally lost the plot.

You try cleaning up the PR messes you’ve been making, Max Emilian, you hiss furiously, remember Ibiza? Santorini? The goddamn yacht party over summer break when he got with the captain and her deputy?! (Even now, thinking of that leaking online gives you heartburn.)

Which yacht, Max says cockily, the one where he got with them one after another or at the same time?

Your jaw drops. You hadn’t even known about the threesome, so you suppose you should be grateful that wasn’t another mess to clean up. But a deeper, insecure part of you can’t help but wonder why the only woman Max doesn’t seem to want is you.

And sometimes you can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to be one of his girls, under his strong body for once instead of on the other side of his hotel wall, having to drown out the very satisfied female moans and headboard bangs with noise cancelling headphones. Like always, you push that thought down quickly.

You, good sir, are for the streets, you announce, standing up and deciding it was time to leave before your delulu, jealous thoughts decided to resurface. Seriously, you mutter under your breath, you didn’t care if his current side quest was to fuck 10 times a week, but could he at least stick to one person for a bit and not make more work for you-

Max’s hand slams the front door back closed as you started to open it. You freeze, turning back to look at him smirking down at you. You hadn’t expected him to follow you down the hallway and you gulp nervously for the safety of your job - you might have taken the roasting a bit too far.

Instead, you get a sly, Oh, so I can do whatever I want, wherever I want, just with one person?

At your awkward nod, because yes, that would significantly ease your workload, he continues, enjoying teasing his uptight, pretty manager - then were you gonna offer yourself up? After all, there’s no PR messes to find out about if it’s you, right?

You blink at Max, completely stunned by the 180 this conversation has taken. Your expression is so adorable that he couldn’t resist a you’re so cute when you’re acting all jealous, you could’ve just asked if you wanted him to fuck you, ya know?

That promptly reminds you you’re dealing with an an absolute manwhore. RIP celibacy era Max, you’ll always be famous.

Um, absolutely fucking not, keep your STDs to yourself, you hiss, flushing head to toe, and furious at the desire in you to give into the devilish proposal. He encourages you to think about it, still smirking, relaxing his grip so you can mercifully flee far away from his intense gaze. Jesus, when did he learn to rizz a girl up like that?!

You don’t take his proposal seriously at all, ignoring his cocky looks at you over meetings all week (also, he’d texted you his clean STD result to assure you he was a #SafeSexKing.) But that weekend, your refusal comes back to haunt you when you’re on a well deserved night out with your girlfriends and your PR manager senses start going off. You narrow your eyes as you spot Max in the dark corner of the nightclub, hands all over a mystery redhead. She’s not going to be a mystery much longer though - if you’d spotted them it was a matter of time before fan’s phones did and then you’d wake up to another goddamn text from your sleep paralysis demon, Henri.

You don’t even have to think about it twice. Saying goodbye to your friends, you’re at Max’s side at a very impressive speed given your 6 inch stilettos and tight sparkly minidress, and once again dragging him off by the beltloops and into an open bathroom.

He lets you yank him away, smirking when he sees you lock the door for good measure. Sweetheart, he greets. So good to see you. Finally realised you couldn’t resist me?

You practically climb him like a tree while telling him to shut the fuck up and pay attention at media training day next time, because what kind of PR crisis did he have unfolding out there? And just this once you’ll help him out, you say breathlessly in between deep kisses, but this isn’t a regular thing -

There’s not much more talking from you because he has you moaning up against the wall next, fingers buried inside your tight little pussy as he talks you through an orgasm, and then another when he splits you in half on his cock. (Once again, manwhore, who carries a condom in their jean pockets?!)

Unfortunately for your self control but very fortunately for your sex life, it is not in fact, a “one time thing”. Your trusty rose vibrator is glad for the break as you’d been taking your year long frustrations at your dry spell out on her. Especially when coming home after staying in hotels where you’d had to book out rooms neighbouring Max’s, so no one else overheard the raunchy vocals of different women every night.

Like Max said, with you, there were no more illicit PR messes to find out about in the middle of the night. You’d redirect him everytime he gave you bedroom eyes (At the pre race debrief. Post race debrief. Weekly team plan meeting. Over zoom calls? Seriously?) - gently taking his large hand and guiding him to a much more hidden, PR crisis-friendly area. To your surprise, Max actually sticks to his word and only hooks up with you - admittedly, multiple times a week (Not that you’re complaining. Turns out he was just as good in bed as he was on the track. Except this time he was definitely not finishing first...)

And for a while, everything is going well. There are no more weekly scandals scattered across trashy celeb magazines about Max. Your boss is gushing with praise, so impressed that you’ve finally managed to talk some sense into Redbull’s problem child (ah, if only she knew, but she never would, because the goddamn CIA couldn’t torture this info out of you) and best of all, you haven’t gotten a text from papparazzi rat Henri in weeks!

So of course, Max Verstappen decides that things are getting just a little bit too quiet for his liking, you had to earn your generous PR manager salary, that he paid for, right? His new, numerous tactics to stir the pot had included:

Going to clubs with no private bathrooms so you’d had to sit on his lap in the VIP lounge as he pulled your panties to the side to slide into you, barely hidden under your flimsy dress. You’d held back your moans and prayed the bass was too loud for anyone to hear

Sitting right next to you at every team dinner or business meeting so that he could sneak a large hand up your thigh and tease your pussy for fucking hours, often just as you were about to speak. And when you’re clenching the table so hard your fingers were white, he’s bending under the table to pick up a pen or something but instead left teasing licks and kisses on your aching core. You'd learnt very quickly not to wear a skirt.

Picking you up in his 2 seater Aston Martin instead of the much more appropriate discreet, spacious, 5 seater Audi he owned - so when he was too pent up after a bad practise session to wait till he got home, he'd get you to go down on him right there in the car, sometimes even as he drove, instead of parking in some hidden backstreet. It was so dirty, that he needed you so desperately that he didn't care about being caught by anyone peeking in through the half tinted windows. Because if they did look, they’d find his head thrown back in pleasure as he moans, his fingers tangled in your curls as he moved your drooling, pink lips up and down his wide cock-

Anyways, you get the picture. And he’d escalated this all the way to the paddock, which was insane because there were always multiple cameras trained on the current F1 champion. It’s the one place you two couldn’t sneak off without a very high risk of being caught, as evidenced by the one and only time he'd managed to get under your skin in the garage. He'd had you pinned up against the wall in some narrow side hallway as he whispered how fucking sexy you’d looked today, wearing his hoodie to cover up the hickies you hadn’t realized you’d woken up with and paired with some tiny denim shorts. Having the 6 foot champion huskily groan that he couldn’t focus on his free practise everytime you bent over to pet a passing dog, or when you innocently sucked on the Redbull flavoured lollipops and then the goddamn ice cream from the truck they’d brought in - was quite the power trip, you admit. So you guided his lips from your neck as he tries to add to the growing bruises on your neck and redirected him to your waiting lips instead, steamily making out as his large hands squeezed your thick ass like he’d been thinking about all day-

Max?!?

You instantly pull back from the driver and turned to see a flabbergasted looking GP - Max’s race engineer. His jaw is wide open as he looked at you two with round eyes. You’re fumbling to explain, trying and failing to push Max back - who looks rather annoyed at the intrusion and semi-glares at GP with narrow eyes. You hiss at the younger man to stop being rude and slip underneath his arms, going over to guiltily apologise to GP only to be met with You too?! How did he get you in his bed, you hated how much of a slut he was! Seriously, does he have a magical dick? Now you stare at GP in shock, unsure of how to respond to his question while Max starts laughing behind you. You make him join you as you promise to GP that he will never have to witness this again, because there will be no unprofessional behaviour of any sort on the paddock after "BootyShorts Gate" as you thereafter dub the incident. Regardless, GP still shoots you both wary glances and begins the habit of announcing his arrival and waiting 10 seconds before turning a corner in the garage, earning him many an odd look. Dramatic, really, was this where Max gets it from?

Max, of course, was very displeased with this new “professionalism” rule you'd set down - on the paddock was when he'd get the most tense, the most horny and desperate to have you underneath him, after all - and he made sure you knew it. You deliberately ignored his heated gaze on you as you interviewed him, or his lingering touches when he helped you hold your microphone up to his much taller frame, large hand wrapped around your small ones clutching the mic. Or his recent favourite, which involved standing next to you to help pick out the insta pics post-race (something he'd notoriously always hated to do) - except now, he conveniently happened to be shirtless, his toned abs and broad shoulders on display, running a hand through his sweaty tousled hair.

This last seduction tactic had sent you fleeing to Checo's garage to seek out the other Redbull driver's PR manager and beg on your knees for a client swap, surely, the sponsor benefits are legendary for whoever Max's PR manager is -

Nope. Nuh uh, no way, Checo is the breeziest driver ever to look after. The other manager pauses. Well, except for the occasional political military coup scandal in Mexico. But still, I'd take that any day over El Manwhore.

You wailed at whatever Gods had decided to curse you and took matters into your own hands, furiously plotting up social media campaign idea after idea that were exactly the kind of thing Max hated with a burning passion - hoping it would get him to back off on his tactics and wave a white flag. From viral TikTok challenges, to making him read all his cringe 2008 tweets, and even making him play fuck, marry, kill with the drivers of the grid. You'd admit, that last one had been rather funny to watch, making you chuckle as you scrolled through the comments, liking "Can't believe we got Max Verstappen saying he would fuck Lewis, kill Pierre and marry Charles before GTA 6" and "does Redbull admin know she posted this on main?!"

But despite your best efforts, it didn't seem to deter Max. If anything, he'd begrudgingly do the task and end up laughing excitedly at you - who was holding the camera - about some joke or the other and make your stupid heart flutter. You knew you definitely should not be catching feelings for your client - who'd made it very clear his interest in you was only physical. But no one needed to know that sometimes you’d log into your fake account to like the "Who got max giggling and kickin his feet and shii?" comments.

Meanwhile, Max had caught wind of your desperation for an escape attempt with Checo’s manager and had upped the ante. He slyly mentioning to Christian Horner than you were doing such a great job as his PR manager, could he pretty please have you promoted to his general manager for his non racing publicity too?

And that's how you found yourself at a Dior Sauvage photoshoot, despite your adamant protests to Horner. You were putting your Masters of Business Adminstration, first class honours, to fantastic use by babysitting a 26 year old child who liked fast cars that went vroom vroom. The only redeeming factor is that you can leave the unflattering Redbull shirt at home since this wasn't for F1 publicity and instead wear a nice outfit for once. Still, you thought it was odd that Max had so easily accepted this campaign, as he wasn't normally one to enjoy doing PR.

A few minutes later you've figured out exactly why your favourite manwhore had agreed to this campaign, because he's grinning at you while posed shirtless, toned abs and broad shoulders all on display as some pretty, busty model is draped over him. The photographer is making this even more painful for you by dragging out the shoot, making Max and the model reposition herself multiple times. You roll your eyes at the scene, because obviously they're two very attractive people who will look good together no matter what, did the photographer really need to be so extra? You stalk off at some point to make yourself a hot chocolate in the hopes it'll sooth the flames of jealousy that are threatening to consume you right now. Max approaches you when a break is called, running a teasing hand along your waist from the back and whispering you looked so fucking hot in this tight maxi dress, making you nervously look around to see if anyone noticed. Luckily, all the staff appeared busy and didn’t look in the dim corner you'd settled into to do paperwork. You hiss at him to keep your hands to yourself, Verstappen making him grin and inform you that's not what you’d said last night, in fact, you were practically begging for him to do the exact opposite-

You're glaring up at him, seriously contemplating if it’s worth breaking your contract clause to "act in the client's best interests" and mauling him with your laptop when the photographer comes up to you both with narrowed eyes. You guiltily step back, thinking he overhead Max's suggestive comments, but instead he just looks back and forth between you two contemplatively. Then, just as you were about to ask him what the issue was, he announces that you'd be replacing the model as the female for the shoot. No questions asked! he announces as you try to protest and snaps his fingers at the makeup and wardrobe artists to demand they sort you out (he gestures rather dramatically to your whole figure when he says this, making you scowl).

So that's how you find yourself dressed in a silky gold minidress with a sultry eye look, pressed up against Max's broad chest and trying not to focus on the intimate position you two are in. Max, however, has no such qualms about the position, using it to tease you further. You've been looking extra tense lately, sweetheart, he breathes, those devilish lips brushing past your ear. I know a great way to make you relax? You growl at him to shut the fuck up because oh my god, did he know how many cameras are pointed at you both right now? Besides, you mutter under your breath, it seemed like he was very interested in relaxing with that blonde model earlier.

Fighting to keep the smug look of his face, Max whispers back that there was No need to be jealous, schatje, you were the only one getting access to his magical dick. So caught up in the game you two are playing, you don't even register the photographer excitedly snapping up pictures, proclaiming that he knew it, the chemistry between these two is unbelievable!

Afterwards, as you're walking off the photoshoot, feeling all hot and bothered from Max's hands running across your exposed skin, shamelessly looking you up and down, the blonde Dutchman catches up to you. He teases you that you were going to get wrinkles at 25 if you didn't stop scowling all the time. I'm older than you, you scoff back, by a whole 6 months, in fact, so maybe you should actually listen to me for once instead of pissing me off? No problem, Max agrees, after all, he's always had a thing for MILFs. You can't help snort at his retort and then start laughing when he tries to maintain an innocent look. At least you were away from the cameras in case someone heard this, you mused.

Unfortunately, you both don't notice MonacoDaily's ratbag paparrazo, Henri, hiding in nearby shrubbery with his camera. It had been far too long without a Verstappen news scandal, he thought with a satisfied smirk as he clicked away.

And later than night, after you'd eaten the chicken stir fry he'd cooked and rewatched Cars 2 (a surpassingly more regular occurrence, these days, to unwind with him at the end of the day instead of immediately being mauled the second you stepped foot in his apartment) you made sure he followed your orders for once. Sitting him back, telling him just how bad he'd been today with all his teasing (-well, it worked, didn't it, sweetheart?) you showed him just how good you were at playing the game, too. And soon, he was breathlessly moaning underneath you as you rode him for the first time, gripping his cock like you were going to milk every last drop, teasing him with just enough pace to get him worked up but not enough to send him over the edge. And you only let him cum inside you when he begged you sweetly, making you go fuzzy at the sight of the infamous Redbull playboy being so desperate for you, and only you.

Afterwards, once you've shampooed each other's hair in the shower while gossiping about how catty that makeup artist had been, really, to imply that your pretty curls had been the problem and not her shitty styling? and Max has got you spooned against him, warm in an old hoodie of his, pressing a goodnight kiss to your forehead, you can't control the warmth blossoming in your chest any longer. And as a content sleep takes a hold of you, you can't help but wonder if Max's affections went beyond physical attraction, just like yours’ were now doing.

It turned out the opportunity to find out this answer would come the very next day, when the ding of your phone wakes you up in the early hours of the morning. It’s a very specific sound that you've set for a certain ratbag - and you get war flashbacks, hearing it now after so long. Scrambling off the bed, ignoring Max's muffled groans as you shove his heavy arm of you, you unlock your phone and gasp in horror as your suspicions are confirmed. Henri has arisen from the ashes and this time it's to deliver his sauciest scandal yet. Because a picture tells a 1000 words, sure, but he has the two of you on a goddamn video, flirting and giggling at each other as you exited the studio yesterday. There's no chance of you talking your way out of this one, as Max's large palm wanders to give your thick ass a firm squeeze as he guides you into his passenger seat. Goddamn, you knew you shouldn't have worn that tempting skims maxi dress - Max was an ass (and tits) man who couldn't be trusted to control himself in public. BTW already sold this 🥸 Henri texts. Just a courtesy FYI cuz I brought a boat with the bag from this one ✌️

You contemplate if it would be better to disappear off the face of the planet, or get plastic surgery to become unrecognisable as you chug your morning Redbull while moodily looking over the Monaco sunrise. Max joins you after a few minutes, looking extremely cute as he rubs the sleep out of his baby blue eyes and asks you what's wrong, schatje.

Taking a deep sigh (like you said, #DramaKid), you break the news. I’m going to hold your hand while I say this (- that’s really not necessary, Max interrupts) - but you know celibacy exists, right? As does having sex in a private location without the risk of being arrested for public indecency?

True, Max agrees, but what was the fun in that? Besides, you were just too hot to resist. Ignoring the butterflies at his cheesy flirting, you hold up the incriminating video on your phone as proof that it was not all fun and games, as Henri had already sold this to multiple news outlets this morning, you inform glumly. Max is strangely silent, looking intently at the video and even replaying it a few times, his eyes crinkling as a soft smile appears on his face when he hears the sound of you two laughing. Then - in a truly unbelievable redemption arc plotline from the Monaco playboy - he asks if it would be so terrible, to have this made public, to let the world know that you were together?

Well, I - you stumble over your words, - I dunno, I thought you liked that? Keeping it secret cause you just wanted a convenient hook up?

Max is silent again. Then, looking uncharacteristically nervous, he says that's not what he wants, not really, not anymore - not since he'd fallen in love with you, somewhere along the 3 months of the friends with benefits/PR manager and her problematic client situationship you’d had. And like at the very start, you don’t even need to think about it twice. This time when you shyly smile and kiss him, you make sure he can feel your love through it and know that you wanted more, too.

So you walk into work that morning, holding hands in open defiance, ready for the world to see. You’re rather confused when no one seems to be paying much attention, instead frantically trying to get the set up ready for the pre race testing. Maybe you two had not been as indiscreet as you thought and people already suspected? Or maybe you both had a penchant for drama and thought you were the main characters when you clearly were not?

You look at each other, shrug, and you give him a kiss on the cheek and tell him you’ll see him for lunch at the kebab shop on the corner, before he wanders off to the garage. Maybe Henri had a change of heart and decided not to exploit innocents for fame and money, you ponder hopefully. Maybe there truly was good in the world, after all.

And then you hear your name being called and turn to see your boss standing behind you menacingly, hands on hips. Care to explain why #MaxLovesMILFS is trending right now?

Somewhere along the Monaco waterfront, a paparazzi rat skulking in the bushes sneezes.

—————————————————————————

A/N: again thank you so much to @piastrification for inspiring this piece!! So sorry for the delay and I hope you enjoy my attempt at branching out to other fics xx tysm to you all for the requests, I am working them into my upcoming fics!! ���

[aninipanin1]

A FAIRYTALE

Notes: Its been a while since I wrote about Young Manager! So I'm doing this before continuing my requests hehee

"You mean, none of you haven't seen Y/n-chan ever since the practice earlier?" Isagi asked Yukimiya and Hiori, face contorted in confusion. Usually, you'd be walking around the facility, doing your rounds and chores. But, it had been a few hours since any of the players have seen you and they were starting to get a bit worried.

"It's not usual for her to suddenly be gone. Besides, you know how she doesn't know the word 'rest,' that girl, I swear." Hiori sighed, peeking through any rooms they passed by, to see if you were in any of them, but to no avail.

"It's almost dinner time, and Y/n-chan and some of our teammates are still not here. Ego-san will not be happy." Yukimiya added. As the trio turned a corner, they heard a muffled voice in one of the rooms, the familiar soft voice immediately registering in their heads, that voice was definitely yours.

Sighing in relief that they won't be scolded by Ego tonight, they entered once the automatic door opened to let them in.

"Y/n-chan, dinner is al- Eh?" Isagi, along with Hiori and Yukimiya, can only blink in confusion, taken aback by the rather...unique and odd scene in front of them. The room where Kaiser and Ness were staying in was in a huge mess, with many books scattered, there was even one mini board on the floor with what looks to be mathematical equations written on them.

But the weirdest scenery was what was in the middle of the mess. You sat, criss-crossed on the ground holding what seems to be a children's book of sorts due to the rather whimsical cover as you read the content in a soft voice, similar to that of a mother singing her lullaby. Charles' head was on your lap, head in between your arms that was holding the book as he seemed to be so focused on the book that his little fangs were sticking out.

Bachira was resting his head on your left shoulder, eyes listening to your voice and looking at the book. While on your other shoulder was an uncharacteristically quiet Shidou, who looked to be taken and focused on your voice as well. Ness, meanwhile, sat beside Bachira, listening and peeking at the book with a calm smile too.

Kaiser, Loki and Lorenzo were the most shocking ones in the equation as they were not as clingy to you, but they seemed to be listening to the story, too, yes, Kaiser was bad at hiding his interest.

'This looks like...a daycare.'

The three Bastard Munchen players can only comment in their minds at the scene. To think that these people, who are quite the opponents on the field, with some having questionnable ethics (ehem Shidou, Kaiser and Bachira ehem), can be calmed down by a mere children's story was unbelievable.

They were all hyper-focused on your voice, too. Like your mouth held the tongue of an angel, ready to give them the tales of the future. And so, they were really wondering now; what the hell did they walk into?

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock? Come to my arms, my beamish boy! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!" He chortled in his joy."

Your vouce narrated the poem, trying to mimic a much deeper voice for the supposed persona of the dialogue.

"Huh? What the hell is frabjous?" Charles pointed out at the word, you stopped to try and remember what it meant.

"Hmm, in this context, I think it means joyous. Like that day is a joyous day, Charles."

"Oooh, okay! Continue!"

'Are we statues here?'

Isagi, Hiori, and Yukimiya wondered as it seemed that none of them there noticed the three of them standing in front of the door. Then as if on cue, Bachira turned his head to find the three of them to which his grin only widened as he waved at the trio.

"Isagi! Oh and Yukki and Hiorin too! Join us! Y/n-chan is reading us the Ja-Jawoc...Jawocky..."

"Jabberwocky..." You softly corrected him.

"Right! Jabberwocky!" The male cheered as he went back to resting his body and head against yours, causing you to flinch a bit due to the heaviness. It was not easy to have three males who are probably double your muscle mass resting their body against yours.

"I understand Bachira and the other two. But what are you four of all people doing here?" Yukimiya turned his head to Kaiser, Ness, Lorenzo, and Loki. To which Loki shrugged his shoulders.

"I searched for Charles and Shidou and ended up here. I don't mind it though...the story reminds me of when I was younger!" And it did. He remembered his mother telling him stories ranging from the typical fairytales like Hansel and Gretel or Snow White to the weirdest ones, like Alice in Wonderland, The Wizard of Oz and the Jabberwocky, the one you were currently reading. The nostalgia was quite heavy, especially now that he's on the other side of the world, feeling homesick at times, because, even if he is a world-class striker, he is still a child at heart, a fact he would never admit to anyone.

"It's our room, idiot. Of course we'll be here." Kaiser rolled his eyes and pointed to Ness and him. But, truthfully, it wasn't just that reason as to why he was there, listening to your words. Growing up, he was not taught how to read, let alone read to by any adult. He has seen those scenes in movies before, but he never experienced that nor did he think he would want that.

But, he kind of liked the soft tone to your voice, the way you ennounciate your words, trying to make impressions on each persona or character of the stories.

It added heaviness to the situation when he remembered that he never went to school and just started learning how to read proper books when he was out of the hell he was once in. So, classics like fairytales were something he did not know of. He would even quip questions about the story and some words he does not understand of, partially because most of the words and ideas were so silly in his mind.

Did adults think kids are that stupid? Although, even if it was stupid...it was entertaining and well, warming. Naive, yes, but not offending. Was this the childhood of those other kids? He was someone who did not dwell on the past, but he still could not help but wonder.

Ness, on the other hand, was the opposite. He was someone who would tear up at even the memory of his rough past. He grew up being alienated and deprived of love by his family just because he believed in something they did not. The books you were currently holding was his, a stash he hid and bought with him to this stupid facility to kill time.

But instead of tearing it apart like his siblings would have done, you took it seriously, reading it happily to him and the others. It felt so satisfying...so joyful to see that the girl he loved was more than happy to support and take his love and belief in something impossible, instead of making fun of him and shunning him out like the people of his past.

"Heh, what's wrong with a lil sprinkly sparkle in your life every once in a while?" Lorenzo smirked, shrugging at Yukimiya before turning hisbhead to face you again.

Like with Kaiser, life has not been kind to a young Lorenzo. He has not been imparted any books of those kind, nor was he even given the chance to get an education. How would he, when he did not even have enough money for a few bread scraps? In life, you need to sacrifice, and for him, survival was the definite better option than some paper and a chance to wear some sort of ugly toga.

But, he would be lying if he said he was not curious what it would feel like to have grown up in a normal place, a normal environment with normal people who do not struggle financially? To have learned how to read better than what his current skill is due to his lack of education. To know any references or fairytail the others would inquire you about, due to the familiarity of the story. He wondered how it feels to have that privilege of familiarity.

But, he digressed. The past is the past, and dwelling on it was just the shittiest way to live. He was here for a good time, for God's sake!

"Geez..." Hiori sighed as he watched your cheeks plump up mainly because of the hugs Bachira, Shidou and Charles gave you, squeezing your cheeks along with it which made him let out a low chuckle. God, were you just adorable.

"C'mon Y/n-chaaaan! Read the next story!"

"But, Shidou-san, dinner is about to-"

"We can eat dinner later, Y/n! You can continue reading!" Charles encouraged as he looked up at you from your lap, a mischievous grin on his face matching that of Shidou's and Bachira's.

You can only sigh at the three's childlike brhaviour before relenting.

"Okay, one more story then we eat, okay?"

In the end, the one story became five as Hiori, Yukimiya, and Isagi also joined in on the fairytale marathon you gave them.

ADDITIONAL TIME!

• BACHIRA saw Ness' books un this and asked you to read the first story, Cinderella to them, since he thought your voice fitted the beautiful maiden in the story. Like Loki and Charles, he missed his home and his mother's voice, remembering the nights where he would sleep next to her on her bed as she would lull him to sleep with mindless stories about fairytales and mystical wonders that let his mind go wild.

• CHARLES, having to grow up with so many siblings, has always had to share the attention of his parents, hence why he is a bit touch and attention starved. That included the bedtime stories and many pleasantries before bed, having to give up that privilege at a young age because of his younger siblings coming into the picture. So, he loved that he got to rekindle those memories and with you of all people in the midst of it!

• SHIDOU is not a believer of magic nor fairytales. He hates it, the impossible to him is something that can be broken apart by anyone, but magic was not the impossible that he believes in. Magic was just plain unethical, not true, fictional. Completely different in his brain. But, your voice was quite pleasant to listen to, and for the first time ever, he was willing to sit down and listen to a dumb fairytale, just to hear you.

This became a lil too angsty than I thought it would be LMAO

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.