#reminder that requests are closed right now

[distuff]

Plz can I request Saja Boys (separately) react to their s/o doing a sexy performance on stage? She's a famous soloist and during her tour she did a sexy dance performance.

Answer: Aaah~ I see the allure there 🍿Very well then! One sexy dance for each Saja Boy as ya requested ! Hope the story delivered my dear readershi ⸜( *ˊᵕˋ* )⸝

📍Requests: Please check HERE

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

Demon Boys' And Sexy Dance

Featuring: Jinu Saja, Mystery Saja, Baby Saja, Abs Saja, Romance Saja Reader: Female

Jinu Saja

🐦‍⬛ Being an idol came with many setbacks.

🐦‍⬛ Privacy? Ha! If either of them had thought Gwi-ma was invasive before, they certainly didn’t now. Humans had... creative - as Mystery once put it - ways of getting what they wanted when it came to them.

🐦‍⬛ Free time? Jinu almost missed the days when he sat perched atop the highest peak in the demon realm, gazing through the pond at reflections of the human world, occasionally swatted at by lesser demons begging for help to collect more souls for their King.

🐦‍⬛ No silk robes. Constant cutesy gestures. New outfits every time they went out. Smile. Grin. Pretend you were enjoying yourself while surrounded by shrieking fans. Jinu had half a mind to grab Tiger and march straight to that purple-haired HUNTR/X woman to ask her how she dealt with all this nonsense.

🐦‍⬛ Of course, he didn’t. Romance had slapped some sense into him with the rolled-up magazine he’d been reading while Jinu whined about it.

🐦‍⬛ He'd calmly reminded Jinu that none of them were going to risk their necks for him, and if he got himself killed, they'd all be punished for failing this absolutely ridiculous mission. "So sit tight and look pretty like you always do, 'leader-ya~'"

🐦‍⬛ That was Romance’s parting advice before patting Jinu on the head with a smug grin and returning to his magazine - leaving Jinu sitting there, slack-jawed and partly annoyed.

🐦‍⬛ Still... there were some perks. One of them? Easier access to backstage areas of other celebrities.

Jinu had no real reason to be here, other than to surprise you. He had planned everything. Right after your final act, just as you'd be thanking your fans, Jinu - with the oh-so-willing help of the crew, who were easily swayed by the charm of a ‘young couple’ - would appear on the massive stage. Singing one of your more romantic songs, hoping you'd join him for a spontaneous duet. When he told the others, Mystery was the first to raise a reasonable question and ask simply, “Why?” Jinu had grinned, his sharper canines peeking out. “Humans adore cute, unplanned romantic gestures from people they ‘ship,’ dear senior~.” It had been pure coincidence that the two of you met at a gala where SAJA had been invited as the rising new boy band. You, on the other hand, were already well into your career - a globally beloved human. He’d seen the curious glances you threw his way, felt the pulse of your wave in the honmoon - the blue current, tentatively reaching for his own that did not exist anymore. Jinu would’ve been a fool not to take advantage of it, a perfect chance to extend SAJA’s influence without lifting so much as a finger. Now backstage, he passed the time fiddling with whatever your dressing room offered. He still had a while before your closing act. He was completely alone - aside from the two guards stationed outside the door. If this were his own dressing room, he’d have dropped the human illusion by now, but your manager and personal crew had a terrible habit of barging in unannounced. Something about 'trusted familiarity.' A slim TV was mounted to the wall, currently showing a live feed of your performance. The stadium remained dim as it was being prepped for the next act. Soon, the lights flickered on, and fog curled across the floor. Jinu opened a bottle of water, twisting the cap idly. The music began to rise in volume. Lights pulsed to the beat. T hen, the spotlight snapped onto you. Confident. Self-assured. You sauntered across the stage, hips swaying, hair catching the light. The outfit shimmered against your skin, the fabric clinging in all the right places. You moved like you owned the space, and your smile - dangerous, dazzling - was aimed at the audience that set it off like a live current. Every person watching likely thought you were looking at them. Jinu tipped the bottle to his lips, eyes fixed on the screen. The way you performed - casually, but experimentally - reeked of veteran status. You danced like someone who’d already earned the right to ignore the rules of the industry. That should’ve been his first warning. The second came with the choice of song. One of your more sensual ones. The kind humans played in clubs to grind on each other like dogs in a rut, or set the mood for whatever it was they got up to. Mystery sometimes watched dramas where that sort of thing happened, though even he seemed confused by it. Either way, Jinu couldn’t say he hadn’t been warned. Because then - you began to truly move.

With deliberate precision, you let your hand trail up the inside of your thigh, before snapping it out to the beat. You dipped low, then rolled your hips up again, body twisting in a way that blurred the line between dance and seduction. Your shirt shifted to reveal a flash of skin, sweat glinting under the lights making you almost glow. As you turned, your gaze slid across the crowd with heavy-lidded ease, lips parted just enough to make every fan scream louder. Then your hand curled into your hair, head tilting as your back arched, before you dropped to a crouch and snapped up with a smirk that made the stage lights flicker. Jinu spat out his water, eyes wide - almost rivaling Tiger’s unblinking stare - as he doubled over, choking. His hand clenched around the glass bottle, sharp ears twitching at the soft crack of splitting glass. He coughed violently, trying to steady his breath. How pathetic would it be if I died choking on water? he thought bitterly, the sound of your song still playing in the background while you carried on with your performance, completely unaware. The others would never let him live it down. He could already hear Gwi-ma’s laughter crawling in the back of his head, calling him a pitiful excuse for a demon and a useless link in their already fragile mission. Jinu inhaled sharply, eyes darting anywhere but the TV. He wasn’t flustered. Just… caught off guard. That was all. He didn’t care about your performance. Not in that way. He and the others did the same routines - provocative moves, flirtatious expressions. But theirs were calculated. Strategic. To keep the fans invested. Emotionally tethered. But now he was starting to realise what made his reaction so strong: he could feel it. The blooming arousal in the souls of the audience, weaving into the honmoon wave that made out the barrier. The waves clung to his senses like teeth rotting honey. Envy, excitement, something darker lingering beneath it - Jinu refused to prod at that. His stomach was already tight, and his claws itched beneath his skin. He took one more breath. Deep. Grounding. Damn you, he growled mentally, jaw tight. The waves around him were fluctuating again, and judging by the dizziness creeping in, you’d just pulled another bold move. Jinu swayed and moved quickly to sit down before his heart would burst and kill him- -Ah... He blinked at the wall, dazed, as his thoughts finally caught up to him. That’s right... he started laughing at himself, aloud this time, barely caring if it carried past the door. Stumbling toward the plush couch, he exhaled, letting himself fall into it. He was immortal. Heartless. He couldn’t die in such a human way... ...Right..., he thought weakly, dark eyes dimming as he stared up at the ceiling.

<><><>

Mystery Saja

🐶 It was one of those days where Mystery felt completely drained from what the mission had demanded of him - so much so, it became harder to keep his demonic energy from leaking out.

🐶 The humans around him instinctively began to keep their distance, their self-preservation instincts kicking in as they sensed the predator beneath the sheepskin-thin glamour.

🐶 The others had no choice but to close in around him for two simple reasons: First, to dull the raw irritation rolling off of him in waves. Second, to stop him from lunging at one of the human photographers assigned to them - particularly the one who kept flashing his camera, unaware that the sharp strobe was making Mystery’s teeth ache with the need to sink into something soft and bloody.

🐶 Needless to say, no one tried to stop him once they made it back to the apartment. The moment the door closed behind them, Mystery shed his glamour completely.

🐶 His blue-grey skin reappeared, nails sharpening, marks darkening across his arms and collarbones as his frame grew broader and a little taller. The weight finally slipped off his shoulders as he sank into the couch, fully intending to watch what he'd recently learned was called “Nature Geography.”

🐶 The others slowly settled around him - on the couch, in the single chairs - each relaxing enough to let their own illusions fade.

🐶 With the apartment saturated in their natural demonic energy, a kind of boundary formed between them and the rest of the world. It helped. The honmoon’s barrier, for some reason, was more active than usual, finally dulled out into the background.

🐶 Halfway through the so-called documentary - which Jinu had explained to Baby wasn’t actually a “shitty drama” - Mystery got his answer as to why the honmoon had been so irritating today.

🐶 His phone lit up with a text from you. A single sticker, bright and animated, followed by a message: - Hope your day wasn’t as exhausting as mine. I’m getting ready for the concert now~ ♡

🐶 Ah, Mystery thought. So that’s why. The realisation came with a quiet wave of relief. It didn’t solve anything, but it did explain the hum of overstimulation he'd been suppressing all day. His muscles eased further into the cushions without him even noticing.

🐶 He barely registered Romance peering at the screen of the so-called "magic box" - a phone, as Jinu kept telling them to call it - until the younger demon suddenly gasped and lit up in delight.

🐶 Without a word, Romance grabbed the remote and switched the television channel to the one that always broadcast live K-pop concerts.

🐶 Mystery didn’t stop him. He was mildly curious about your performance. The others seemed to perk up too, interested in figuring out what had gotten Romance so excited.

🐶 The screen flickered, revealing the stadium where your performance was being held. Your stage name at the bottom in bold lettering, accompanied by a human commentator announcing it aloud, along with a string of unnecessary, overly enthusiastic welcome remarks.

🐶 Abby raised a brow but shrugged, clearly uninterested in what he was watching. Baby’s expression flattened, unamused. Jinu leaned forward slightly, golden eyes narrowing in anticipation. No doubt already trying to spot whatever performance detail made your fans scream the loudest so he could ‘borrow’ it for later.

🐶 Mystery, meanwhile, simply leaned back and watched.

He had to push his fringe up to make sure he’d actually seen what you just did. There was a beat of silence where even the guys wore surprised expressions, broken only by Baby’s smug voice. “Oh ou,” he sing-sang, slipping the lollipop back into his mouth. "Some’ne’s gon’ be in trouble~" Mystery’s shoulders coiled, tension building as he felt the lines of the drooling humans reacting to your dance move. He couldn’t feel your wave directly from this distance - not fully - but it wasn’t faint enough to miss how the other humans’ lines began to taint the softly pulsing violet strand that was yours. The clawed fingers of his right hand dug into the armrest of the couch, fabric tearing under his grip as he let his fringe fall over his eyes once more. Romance, of course, couldn’t resist chiming in. “Pleease, my naive little junior,” he purred, reaching down to pat Baby, who was seated on the carpet. Baby snapped his teeth at him in mock warning, but Romance only chuckled, placing a hand over his heart and turning toward Mystery with glowing eyes. His smooth, velvet voice followed, “Is in trouble would be much more accurate.” Mystery ignored them. Ignored the shifting sounds and passing remarks. His veiled eyes stayed unfocused but sharp, the black of his irises no doubt overtaking the gold as his senses expanded. His body remained coiled, ready to move at the first sign of threat, especially as he continued to feel the audience reaching toward your wave - touching, prodding - only to be stopped by that wall you kept up between yourself and them. He drew in a deep breath, about to calm himself down with a reason. And then Abby spoke. “No wonder you keep 'em around,” he said casually, eyes fixed on the screen and whistling low. “They’re flexible - must really make you get creative in the—” Abby’s smile froze mid-sentence. Romance and Baby turned toward him, curious what made the smug idiot go quiet - until they both saw it. Whips of demonic energy crackled subtly around Abby’s limbs, flickering in and out of sight. Mystery still looked perfectly composed, regal even - but the tension now radiated from him in waves. His left hand was now extended lazily, fingers stretched and flexing, a clear sign he'd used his ability on Abby without moving much. Romance and Baby stared, wide-eyed, as Mystery slowly turned his palm upward and curled in his pinky and index fingers, the remaining three lifting - and, as if tugged by invisible strings, Abby’s body rose from the floor like a puppet responding to its master. Neither of them said a word as Mystery’s hand shifted, fingers now pointed down and relaxed. He flicked it smoothly to the right. Abby’s body followed immediately, still smiling, he silently crossed the room with a graceful, unnatural gait toward the balcony door. The duo's attention snapped away from their brother to Jinu when he clicked his tongue in frustration. Still fixated on his phone, his golden eyes narrowed, thumb scrolling with increasing speed.

"Forget it - we are in trouble. They’re trending!" Jinu spoke with urgency, eyes glued to his phone. Romance and Baby exchanged a glance before scooting closer to their ‘leader’ to peer at the screen. Neither reacted when the sound of the balcony door sliding open drifted into the room, carrying the noise of the city's nightlife into their already nosy living space. There was a subtle shift on the couch as Mystery stood up wordlessly. His movements were slow, almost lazy, body relaxed as he drifted toward the front door. His human illusion reassembled itself half-heartedly, just enough to mask the sharper edges of his true form. Baby flicked Jinu’s forehead with a deadpan look, his lollipop shifting between his lips. "Overreacting again, old man," he muttered, unimpressed. Romance, lounging comfortably, reached up to gently massage the furrow between Jinu’s brows. "Relax your face, darling~ You’ll wrinkle." Jinu finally looked at them, golden eyes wide as he gestured with his phone. "It’s not an overreaction! They jumped from top twenty to top fifteen in the span of an hour!" he hissed. Baby leaned back with ease, sliding down to the floor with his usual lazy grace. On the screen, you were now bowing to the audience with a radiant smile, the volume so low it wouldn't register for a human. "Re'lax, Gramps," Baby said flatly, pulling the lollipop from his mouth to glance up at Jinu. "They rose fast. They’ll drop just as fast once someone else does something shinier. Big deal." "Besides~" Romance’s velvety voice slid in, now idly twisting strands of Jinu’s hair between his fingers while his other hand gave a reassuring pat to his shoulder. "Aren’t we, ‘friends’ with that little human in the eyes of their fans?" he said, voice laced with sly amusement. "Their fans and fame is ours~" Jinu let out a low hum, his tense expression finally beginning to soften. From the window overlooking the balcony, Abby could be seen climbing over the ledge. Meanwhile, Mystery was already by the front door, slipping into his shoes when Jinu, without even looking up from the phone said, “Cut the strings.” Mystery responded with a simple snap of his fingers. The front door shut with a solid click, just as Abby’s body dropped back onto the balcony floor with a dull thud, perfectly timed.

<><><>

Baby Saja

🍼 Baby was out hunting.

🍼 It had been a while since he’d eaten, and the strain of maintaining his human illusion - layered with the extra glamour effects demanded during performances - was wearing him down faster than he'd like.

🍼 It was a shitty night. No stars overhead - just the city choking the sky with its gaudy, flesh-born fakes. The air stank like burnt rubber and piss. And if he heard one more car honk-

🍼 “BWAAAAAANK—” A car blared its horn with hostile urgency, only to be cut short by a sharp CLANG-THUD-CRASH as it slammed into a flying bin with a guttural thud. The lid popped off, its contents spilling like the entrails of a gutted animal - paper, plastic, scraps of food - reeking with the sour stench of city waste as it bled across the street.

🍼 Baby’s lips curled into a lazy smile. His golden eyes dimmed into a cool, silver-blue hue as he put his foot back onto the pavement, slipping his hands into his trouser pockets and continuing down the street without so much as a glance at the wreck as the driver scrambled out to assess the damage. Baby didn’t even blink.

🍼 Safe to say, he’d never complain about the demon realm again. If hell existed, it wasn’t up or down - it was here, asphalt-stained and neon-drenched.

🍼 It might’ve been bearable if the honmoon wasn’t acting up though. For some damn reason, all he could feel tonight was that sickly-sweet mess of adoration, lust, and obsession - and none of it was aimed at him or the huntresses, for once.

🍼 No, this time it circled around something far too reachable. He could sense the human wave at the centre of it - too crowded to make out clearly, surrounded by other waves flickering with excitement and too much warmth.

🍼 With an irritated sigh, Baby kicked a loose pebble down the pavement, narrowing his senses as he scanned the honmoon lines. He sifted through the haze for something youthful, something just naïve enough to approach but still bright enough to-

🍼 Got you. He halted mid-step, eyes sharpening as they locked onto a bright blue line pulsing among the noise. It stretched up toward the upper levels of the outskirts. He'd only come to because Abby had recommended it. The bastard wasn’t picky and never liked wasting time, and neither did Baby.

A boy, aged nineteen. Feeling wronged, misunderstood by parents who expected him to become something he couldn’t align with. Betrayed by those he once called family. How easily Baby could relate for reasons he couldn't explain. The boy’s memories bled into Baby’s own, feeling a bit too familiar as his blue-grey hand, etched with glowing markings, pressed against the cool soul nestled in the weakening body cradled in his arms. Bit by bit, the boy was going limp, mouth slightly parted, breath shallow… as a bright blue line slipped from his lips and flowed steadily into Baby’s. He tasted everything: the sour sting of resentment, the bitter tang of anxious thoughts, the slow rot of grief. And beneath it all, the unmistakable flavour of dreams scorched to ash. The boy's plans for the future, dismissed and destroyed by his own parents. That familiar panic - that loneliness. Baby eat it all. The flavour only deepened as the boy's thread snapped from the barrier like the final crack of a dying ember. Baby opened his mouth wider, sharp teeth glinting under the muted streetlamp, though the shadows kept his form hidden from anyone walking down this path. He feasted until the last flicker of life dulled - until the body lay still and silent. With a wide-eyed look and a sharp grin, Baby chased the lingering taste, licking his lips. His hand, still pressed to the human’s chest, slowly moved down, then back up. His marks pulsed steadily, casting faint light against the skin that now webbed in matching purple markings. The glow flared harshly before the body was pulled down, vanishing into the demon realm. Gwi-ma’s pleased, rumbling satisfaction rolled through Baby’s mind, but was swiftly replaced by a mental lash of irritation. Work faster. “Ugh—!” Baby hissed, hand flying to his temple at the sharp crack of pain. His lips curled into a snarl, small tusks peeking out as his headache throbbed behind his eyes. He shook it off with a growl, straightening with a scowl, his mouth settling into a flat, displeased line. He felt better. So much better. But seriously, the headache was uncalled for. Grumbling under his breath, he shot a glare at the ground, though nothing replied. At least his head was finally blissfully silent for now. With a huff, Baby turned to check the area. Still alone. Good. He kept his demonic form - there was no point wasting precious energy to maintain a human illusion when there was no one to fool yet. Stepping out from the shadows of the forestry road, he strolled towards the low stone fence overlooking the city. The flood of bright lights made him squint in annoyance. It had its charm, sure... but Baby preferred the star-streaked skies of the demon realm. There, even if Gwi-ma’s monstrous flames clouded the sky, some untouched corners still shimmered with stars. A peace the surface could never quite replicate. Still - there was one beauty he could appreciate in this realm. The honmoon. The calm blue pulsed gently - but what made the irritating barrier eye-catching now were the vivid crimson lines slashing wildly across its surface. It no longer felt the need to maintain its defences, not when the humans felt freer when listening to them. There was also the pulse of obsession, desire, and something else weaving through it that kept irritating him. Baby’s eyes flicked up, drawn to the converging energy lines that sparked over the mountain peak - the same place he vaguely remembered was home to the largest stadium in the city. He tilted his head, expression tightening. ...He was forgetting something. A sudden buzz jolted him. Snapping out of his thoughts, Baby looked down at the subtle glow coming from his trouser pocket - the slim screen that Jinu had very pointedly told him was called a “phone,” and not a “mini TV.”

Huh… “Thought I left it at home,” he muttered, pulling the thing from his pocket anyway. There was nothing on it aside from the icons that were there when he first received it from the humans who took care of their advertisement? Baby forgot what he was told to call them, nor did he really care to remember either. One of the icons had a small dot blinking faintly, catching his attention. If he remembered right, that meant something had happened there. With a furrowed brow, Baby pressed a finger to the icon and watched it open. He blinked in mild surprise - and maybe a flicker of pride - that he’d actually made it work. Apparently… Romance had messaged him? Was that the right word? He shrugged. He tapped on Romance’s picture and opened the “chat log,” squinting at the link his senior had sent him. Raising a brow, Baby tilted his head. Similarly to Mystery, Romance had also developed a fascination - some might say addiction - to what Jinu called “social media,” constantly sending them things he found amusing or “aesthetic.” Baby usually ignored it. But this caption… this one caught his eye. Wait a damn second… He tapped the link fast, eyes narrowing in anticipation - only for the screen to flash up: No internet connection. Baby stared at the phone, mouth slightly agape, before his expression twisted into a glare. “I’ll show you no connection, you useless little box,” he growled, letting his demonic aura slip out in a quiet wave that connected to the phone that soon began to reload. The screen then shifted to a live stream. His golden eyes caught on a familiar face. You. Performing. Right… right… A smile curled lazily across his lips. You’d told him about this, hadn’t you? Said he should watch if he had the time. He forgot. Too wrapped up in the relief of finally having the time to go hunt. The thought passed through him as he watched you perform energetically on the stage, all bright smiles and even brighter costume. His body relaxed, falling into a lazy trance as his eyes fixed on you. The rhythm of the song was catchy enough that he found himself tapping his foot, just as everything suddenly stopped. His eyes snapped open, widening. He was so stunned he didn’t even register how the honmoon pulsed with delight, its glow flickering with rising excitement - your fans clearly electrified by your sudden hip thrust, followed by a slow, controlled body roll. Your hand slipped beneath your shirt, lifting it just enough to flash your stomach - slick with sweat, sharply defined beneath the glare of the stage lights.

His expression scrunched as he began to feel multiple lines from your fans trying to weave themselves into what he now recognised as your wave - only to be pushed away by the barrier you kept between yourself and the audience. It was still irritating. He could almost taste how stale your energy must feel after enduring so many attempts to latch onto it. But before he could gag at the sensation, his gaze shifted back to the honmoon - now practically blaring. Clearly, you’d pleased them. What caught his eye, however, were the bright blue threads beginning to dim, softening into a shimmer of violet… and a few even carrying a glint of crimson. Ah… that’s right. He lowered the phone in his hand and leaned forward against the stone fence to get a clearer view of the city below. Your song still played through the 'Mini TV', volume low, but his sharpened ears caught every note. Baby shouldn’t have been surprised - you were already pulling some of the Huntr/x fans to SAJA's side. Ever since the two of you went public, your fanbases had begun to bleed into one another, tangled in obsession and speculation. He could practically see the fanfics and analysis posts being drafted, which Romance and Abby would no doubt shove in his face later this week. He grinned, eyes dropping to the phone screen just in time to see you, chest heaving, wink at the camera as you finished your set. “You’re so lucky I just ate,” he murmured, dragging a clawed thumb slowly over your face on the screen.

<><><>

Abs Saja

💪 Abby had nothing better to do than munch through the dry pop-corn - Ha, what a funny name - and watch, alongside the others, some show where tall human females paraded around in shiny dresses. Romance’s latest obsession.

💪 The only reason the rest of them were even there was because Romance was entertaining by pointing out every single flaw - every botched stitch, every mismatched piece of jewellery, every lighting mishap. Hell, the entire production.

💪 So when Jinu casually mentioned that you seemed to have a show on tonight, Abby froze mid-bite.

💪 He blinked, trying to recall if you’d told him something like that recently - nothing came to mind. His brain came up blank.

💪 “Where?” he asked. The second Jinu gave him the location, Abby vanished in a puff of purple smoke.

💪 Silence followed. All four stared blankly at the spot on the couch where Abby had just been lounging. Then their eyes slowly widened in unison.

💪 “Well, shit,” Baby muttered, grabbing a handful of Abby’s abandoned popcorn and shoving it into his mouth. He immediately gagged but forced it down, sticking his tongue out afterwards with a scrunched nose and furrowed brow. “Ugh - tastes like that plastic foam.”

Abby decided there were definite perks to being a globally adored idol. He supposed he ought to tell Romance that, yes, those sites where humans posted pictures and commented on them were actually useful, not just mindless time-sinks. Later, he thought. Most likely he’d forget, but that was future Abby’s problem. Right now, present Abby was strutting through the backstage halls of the stadium you were currently performing in, trying to find a way to the outside podium so he could watch you live. Did he knew where he was going? No, buut! The excitement that was thrumming in the air around him. The touch of envy. More than a few lustful waves too, all pulsing through the honmoon like an emotional GPS guiding him toward the open air. The closer he got, the stronger it pulled. He passed a few staff members, flashing a grin here, a wink there - revelling in the way they lit up or froze on the spot. As he passed one particularly starstruck staff member, Abby couldn’t help but flick his tongue over the tip of a sharp canine that had lengthened without him noticing - his grin curling with mischief. He couldn’t help himself. Most of the staff carried that sweet violet line, far more flavourful than the usual bland blue. Still… none of it came close to the divine richness of a soul painted fully crimson. Realising he was nearly salivating, Abby gave his head a firm shake before slapping both cheeks sharply. Focus! Chest puffed out with new resolve, he marched down the hallway with a straight back - paying no mind to the way his shirt stretched tight across his broad chest. Unlike the two women who openly gawked as he walked past. It didn’t take him long after that to find his way outside. Just as you launched into a hyper, high-energy song that had the entire crowd bouncing, Abby emerged into the pulsing night. He could feel it all - the blue, violet, and occasional crimson lines lighting up with the beat like fireworks. You may not have been one of the Huntresses or a demon like them, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t move people’s souls. Just meant you didn’t manipulate them. But you could still reach them with your own soul. And even though Abby was soulless, and couldn’t forge real connections, that didn’t mean he was immune to the intoxicating flood of emotion all around him. Soon enough, he was near the stage, jumping and singing along with the rest of the crowd, his huge arm slung around some random concertgoer who was far too caught up in the music to notice who exactly he was hanging off. And when you executed a slow body wave that started from your shoulders and rippled down to your hips, ending with a precise spin and a teasing wink at the crowd, Abby just grinned wider and belted the next line right alongside you and the crowd. And if he fed a little from the ones glowing crimson around him - well... Who could blame him? The energy was infectious; those humans were willingly handing out scraps of their souls with every emotional spike your music brought on, just like when they listened to one of SAJA's songs. What were a few more bits, really?

<><><>

Romance Saja

🌹 Romance was in the middle of repainting his human nails - yes, he could slap on an illusion, but he’d learned the hard way that, unlike his usual hunts, travelling the human world on this suicidal mission meant he couldn’t use up too much of his demonic power in one go… unless he fancied going berserk again.

🌹 Ahahaha! He laughed inwardly, tossing his head back with a grin at the memory of that glorious disaster from the beginning of their mission. Shaking it off with a hum, he returned to carefully painting, ignoring the weirded-out look Baby shot him.

🌹 The youngest had a piece of gum stuck in his mouth now, absently chewing as he slowly returned to scribbling something into that lyrics notebook he shared with Jinu.

🌹 Besides~ Romance had started to enjoy painting his nails. The others', too, when they let him. It was therapeutic!

🌹 Everything was peaceful until the "mini TV" - as Baby insisted it was called - lit up with a notification box. A pop-up announced the start of your concert.

🌹 Romance gasped. One hand clapped over his mouth in giddy surprise as he delicately set the polish brush back into the bottle. He waved the other hand dramatically, careful not to smudge his fresh coat.

🌹 “Jinuu! Darling, their concert’s about to begin!” he called out in a sing-song lilt, just as he'd been firmly instructed to notify him when it started.

🌹 “Why should he care?” Baby muttered, not looking up from his notebook. Romance blinked, attention now fixed on the youngest.

🌹 Baby glanced his way, expression flat but honest as always. “Aren’t you allegedly dating ‘em? Won’t they ask how you liked it?” Romance chuckled behind his hand, wiggling his newly painted nails at Baby with a playful flutter.

🌹 “Please, my little spawn - what are ‘reels’ for?” he replied with a smug little smirk. “He said he wanted to see what made their fans scream!”

🌹 He threw his hands up in a dazzling gesture just as the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the stairs. Moments later, Jinu appeared and dropped himself onto the couch beside Romance - fumbling with the rectangle-thing that turned on the big TV once Romance lobbed it at him with zero hesitation. The screen flickered to life seconds after.

Romance blinked owlishly at the screen as he watched you drop into a slow body roll, one hand sliding from your chest down your torso while your hips snapped to the beat - sensual, controlled, and effortlessly confident. His hand remained over his mouth as his gaze tracked the movement, but from the corner of his eye, he caught the way Baby openly gawked, eyes squinting in a strange mix of confusion and intrigue. Jinu, meanwhile, had already gone rigid, clearly analysing every detail with his usual unnerving focus - no doubt planning a new, torturous choreography based on what he was seeing. Romance slowly lowered his hand, voice soft with something between awe and amusement. “…Didn’t know they could move their body like that,” he murmured, lips curling into a slow, mischievous smile. A flicker of gold sparked in his eyes. “How very interesting~” He ignored the pointed glance Baby shot his way, his attention still locked onto the screen - not entirely for the same reasons as Jinu now that you caught his attention. After a beat, Baby muttered, “You’ve got issues.” His tone was flat. Romance gave a musical chuckle, lifting a freshly painted hand to flutter it in Baby’s direction as if swatting the comment aside. “Oh please~ Don’t we all?” he said airily, locking eyes with the unimpressed younger demon. His smirk deepened when Baby’s expression scrunched in response, the younger finally rolling his eyes and returning to the notebook - silent, but defeated. There was no arguing that. Not when it was true. Romance returned his gaze to the screen where your dazzling form lit up the stage. You were clearly tired, sweat glistening across your skin - and yet your smile remained, full of energy and joy. A beacon to the sorrowful souls watching you. He leaned back more comfortably, resting his elbow on the armrest, chin perched on his fist as his expression softened with something like curiosity. You really were full of surprises, weren’t you? His eyes traced the glitter on your bare shoulders, and his teeth itched with the urge to sink.

[bbyg4rl]

also also also (i forgot to put it in my last ask)

999: RELEASE

I was thinkin' clingy!jj and size kink ;)

cw: SMUT, clingy!boyfriend!jj x reader, soft!dom!jj, size kink, belly bulge, reader-inclusive (no physical descriptors used.)

“Fuck, baby…” JJ’s voice cracks as he bottoms out, hips flush to yours, breath knocked straight from his lungs. He holds still for a second, arms trembling where they bracket you, like he needs a second to process just how deep he is.

You feel it too. It’s more than full, it’s too much. You can’t even form words, just tiny, hiccupping sounds as you squirm under the weight of him. You’re stretched tight and stuffed so full you swear your body doesn’t know what to do with it.

And he sees it. His hand is warm, sliding down to your belly, and then he presses, just a little, right where he’s deepest. “You feel that?” he breathes, awestruck. “That’s me. Right there, baby, fuck—look at that.”

You glance down and see it. The faint swell under your skin where he’s nestled so deep it doesn’t feel possible. His cock twitches inside you at the sight, and you cry out, clenching tight, your legs trying to close instinctively but JJ just grips your thighs and forces them back open, spreading you wide for him again.

“Nuh-uh,” he pants, eyes wild. “Let me see, baby.”

You whimper when he starts to move, hips slow and deep, dragging himself out until only the tip remains before driving back in with a slick, wet sound that has both of you gasping. He groans, watching the bulge shift every time he thrusts. His hand never leaves your belly, palm flat like he’s trying to hold himself there, like he needs the reminder that he’s inside you that deep.

You’re squirming now, moaning under him, but he leans over you and cages you in, lips pressed to your forehead. “Feels so good,” he groans, pulling your hips up and thrusting a little harder. “So tight like this. Stretchin’ around me.”

You whimper again, clinging to his shoulders as he fucks you open, every snap of his hips making the skin jump. The pressure, the weight, the fullness, it’s overwhelming. You can’t stop trembling.

And JJ’s eyes are twinkling. “That’s it, baby. Let me see it,” he pants. “Let me see how full you are. Wanna see your tummy swell every time I stuff it back in.”

“JJ—f-fuck—I can’t,” you whimper, feeling the burn in your thighs from how he’s holding your hips up.

“Yes, you can,” he rasps. “You are. You’re takin’ it so good. Look at you.”

You don’t know if it’s the pressure in your belly or the ragged, hungry way he’s watching your body around him, but you’re about to fall apart, and he knows it. His hips get erratic, deeper, messier, one hand still pressing to your lower belly, the other around your waist like he’s trying to merge your bodies together.

“Gonna cum,” he chokes out, pressing teetering kisses to your temple. “You’re gonna do it with me, yeah?”

You nod, clamping down around him with a cry, tipping over the edge just as he ruts into you and spills deep, his whole body shuddering over yours. He doesn’t pull out. Just stays there, panting, still pulsing inside you.

He looks down at your belly again and lets out a broken, filthy groan. “Can still see myself, baby. Fuck. I’m never pullin’ out.”

♡ requested for ꒰ ⑅ ๑  𝟗𝟗𝟗 : : RELEASE ꒱

check out my — masterlist / 2k celebration ૮꒰•༝ •。꒱ა

[formulafanfics13]

hiii, love ur fics. can i request a kimi fic where the reader is comforting him after his dnf in austria? maybe some soft/emotional smut?

You're Still Good - KA12 🔥

Masterlist

Summary: After crashing out on the first lap and taking Max with him, Kimi returns to the hotel completely broken. You meet him in the quiet aftermath, guiding him out of his fireproofs and into your arms. What follows is slow, gentle, emotional intimacy — not just sex, but comfort, affirmation, and quiet love. He breaks down in your arms, and you remind him that he’s still good, still worthy, still held.

Warnings: explicit sexual content, emotional sex, post-race breakdown, crying during sex, aftercare, praise kink, intense vulnerability, themes of failure, pressure, and self-worth, soft dom/sub dynamic (comforting caretaker), young driver portrayal (Kimi is 18), gentle degradation of self-worth (Kimi), emotional validation, and soft penetration. Contains heavy emotional themes and fragile mental states, with focus on psychological intimacy and reassurance.

He’s still in his fireproofs when he unlocks the door. Helmet in one hand, gloves in the other. Face blank. Mouth a straight line. Eyes darker than you’ve ever seen them. Not angry, not even upset, exactly, just... gone.

Empty. A shell of the boy you kissed goodbye six hours ago with hope in your chest and nerves in your throat. The boy who was meant to finish strong today. Who had a brilliant start lined up. A good quali. P3 on the grid. Max right in front of him. Everything ready.

And now? Now he’s walking through the hotel room like a ghost.

“You’re back,” you say softly, standing near the minibar, your voice barely above a whisper.

Kimi doesn’t answer. He just drops his helmet on the table with a hollow clunk, then stands there. Still. Hands clenched. Shoulders tight. You move toward him. Cautiously. Like he’s something wild and about to break.

“I watched the whole thing,” you say, quieter. “I know it wasn’t your fault.”

That’s when he finally looks at you. His eyes are glassy. Jaw locked.

“I locked up,” he says flatly. “I fucked it.”

“No-”

“I took Max out. Lap one. Fucking lap one.”

You flinch at the way he spits the words. Like they’re poison he’s trying to scrape off his tongue. You try again. “It was a racing incident-”

“He trusted me,” Kimi snaps. “He left space. I lost it. I crashed. Took him with me. I ruined everything.”

You step closer. “Hey,” you say, firmer now. “Breathe.”

He’s shaking. Not obviously, but his hands tremble at his sides. His knuckles are pale. His chest rising fast, shallow. Like his body is still on the track. Still locked in lap one. Still bracing for impact. You place your hands gently on his chest. “Kimi,” you whisper. “Look at me.”

He does. And it kills you. Because he’s not just upset. He’s devastated. He’s 18 years old, world watching, team on his back, and he thinks he’s ruined it all. And no one, no one, is holding space for the fact that he’s still just a boy with a heart and a fear of not being enough.

So you hold it for him. You lift your hands to his face. Thumb brushing the sharp bone of his cheek. “You’re not a failure,” you say.

He exhales like he doesn’t believe you.

“Max’ll be fine,” you add. “You apologised. Everyone saw the lock-up. You’re not reckless. You’re not careless. You’re just, human.”

He closes his eyes. When he speaks again, it’s quieter. Broken. “I thought I could handle it,” he whispers. “I thought... I was ready.”

Your hands move to his zipper. Not sexual, just soft. Caring. You peel the fireproof down to his waist, help him out of it like he’s fragile.

“You are ready,” you murmur. “But that doesn’t mean you won’t have bad days.”

He lets the rest of the fireproofs pool at his feet. Left in just his underwear and undershirt. You press closer.

“You’re still good,” you whisper.

His hands find your waist. Desperate. Grounding. And when you kiss him, he lets out a sound that splits you in half, small, aching, like he’s been holding his breath for hours and finally lets go.

You take him to bed slowly. No rush. No words. Just fingers on skin, lips on collarbones, legs tangled. When he lies back, you crawl over him, straddling his thighs, cupping his jaw with both hands. He doesn’t even move, just stares up at you like you’re the only real thing left in the world.

“You can let go,” you whisper. “You don’t have to be composed with me.”

His eyes shine. And then he kisses you. Not hungry. Not needy. Just… true. Like you’re home. Like he’s safe. Like he’s falling apart and knows you’ll catch every piece.

Your shirt comes off. Then his. You press your bare chests together, heartbeat to heartbeat. You kiss down his neck, his collarbones, the spot just under his ear that makes him exhale through his nose like he’s trying not to cry.

He’s hard against you already, but not urgent. Just aching.

When you reach down and pull his briefs off, he lets out the softest breath. “Is this okay?” you whisper.

He nods. “Please.”

You shift, guiding him in slowly. Your body opens around him, warm and welcoming, and when he’s fully inside, both of you just pause.

You don’t move. You just breathe. His hands grip your waist like lifelines. And then you roll your hips once, slow, gentle, deep, and he whimpers.

Not like a boy who wants to fuck. Like a boy who needs to feel something good.

You move again. Rhythm slow. Body heavy on his. You bend down, kiss his lips, his jaw, his forehead. “I’ve got you,” you whisper.

He clutches your back. And then he breaks. Small sobs. Wet lashes. Quiet gasps against your skin. But you don’t stop. You ride him slow, each movement like balm, like a heartbeat. His breath comes ragged. Yours follows. You grind down and feel him everywhere, and all you can think is: He’s still good. He’s still so good.

“Kimi,” you murmur. “Come with me.”

He nods, frantic. And when he finishes, deep inside you, hands clinging to your hips, face buried in your neck, he cries.

Not from sadness. From release. From being held. From finally, finally not being alone in the wreckage.

Later, when you’re curled around him, fingers playing with his hair, he speaks. Just one sentence. Soft. Shaky. “I was so scared you’d think I failed.”

You kiss his temple. “I only saw you try.”

The world will talk. The stewards will debate. The media will dissect every frame of that crash. But here, in this room, he is safe. He is held. And he is still loved.

[minlighted]

hi! i saw you were taking requests and decided to send a little something! if it's okay with you, may i request stray kids ot8 x 9th member!reader? i was thinking of something that starts angsty but ends in fluff, like reader getting lost in the airport because of fans mobbing and only being found later after a lot of emotional distress and being pushed and shoved.

🌙Thank you for the request!

✈️ Lost in the Noise

Stray Kids OT8 × 9th Member!Reader/GN!Reader 🌪 Angst → Comfort/ 📏 ±5100 words

Masterlist

You knew airports could be busy. You knew fans would show up. But you weren’t prepared for this.

The instructions were simple: hood up, sunglasses off, stay close together. The staff had reminded you of this when you got off the plane. And you had stuck to them — at first. You walked quietly behind Chan and next to Seungmin. The boys looked as exhausted as you felt. After a long flight back from Japan and barely any sleep, everyone was tired, but you were used to it.

You thought: just hang in there. In fifteen minutes we’ll be in the car and it will be quiet again.

What you didn’t know: those fifteen minutes would change everything.

It started with a few distant voices. Then screams. And then — a wall of sound.

Flashing lights, shouting, running steps. Security sprang into action, but too late: the fans had already slipped between you. You felt someone slide past your shoulder, another hand against your arm. Your backpack was pulled back, you jumped and lost your balance. You turned around, instinctively.

And that’s where it went wrong.

Instead of Chan or Seungmin, you were faced with strangers. Cameras. Questions in languages ​​you couldn’t immediately process. Flashes. People getting too close.

You tried to step back. Searched for a face you knew.

“Hyung?” “Chan?!”

But your voice was drowned out. No one answered. Not a limb in sight. Just arms, bags and cameras. You pushed your way back toward the nearest pillar and panicked when your phone wasn’t there—it was in Hyunjin’s bag. You’d put it there just before boarding.

Now you were out of service. Out of contact.

You knew you shouldn’t run. But your legs moved on instinct.

And then you got lost.

You don’t know how long you’ve been walking. Not long. But you can feel it in your chest—your breathing is faster than it should be. Your hand shakes as you slide it along the cold pillar at Gate 34. No one here. Or at least, no one you know.

You pull your hood up a little further and sink to the ground. Your heart pounds in your throat. You try to keep your shoulders still, but they tremble slightly. You’re not hurt. But you’re not okay either.

You rub your arm and try to count your breaths. Feel something normal. But everything feels so far away. Like you and your body are separated for a moment.

I’m lost. They’re lost to me. Maybe they think I’ve gotten ahead of them. Or that I’ve already reached the bus.

The thought is even more terrifying than the silence.

“Hold on,” Chan says, his voice sharp. “Where’s Y/N?”

Heads turn. Movement stops. Felix frowns. “Was just with Seungmin…”

“Not anymore,” Changbin says, scanning. “They’re gone.”

“Don’t panic,” Minho says, but his gaze is anything but calm.

Jisung is already stepping back. “Maybe they got pushed the other way. Or got stuck somewhere.”

“They would never do that on purpose,” Jeongin says softly.

Hyunjin mumbles, “They didn’t have a phone with them…”

That’s when Chan uses his authority. “Staff! Everyone stops. We’re splitting up. Gates 20 to 40. Security calls central cameras right away.”

He looks at the boys.

“We don’t leave anyone behind. You hear me?”

“Always,” Changbin says. “There are nine of us.”

You think of stupid things.

If the bus has already left. If someone is worried. What if they think you did it on purpose?

Then—footsteps. Faster than the rest.

A voice:

“Y/N…?”

You look up, eyes blurry.

Hyunjin.

He sees you. His eyes widen.

“They’re here!” he shouts.

Within seconds, you see familiar silhouettes.

Felix first. His face tense, mask half off. Seungmin with a frown of pure relief. Han with a hand over his chest as if he’s just daring to breathe again.

And then: Chan.

He immediately kneels down in front of you.

“Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, barely visible.

“Are you in pain?”

“Was there someone you—”

Your lip trembles. Your shoulders too.

“Okay. It’s okay. You’re safe. You don’t have to say anything for now.”

Hyunjin sinks down next to you. Felix slumps to his knees behind you. A warm hand touches your back. Han sits quietly on your other side, his eyes red with tension.

Jeongin wordlessly takes your hand. You feel him squeeze gently. Not forcefully. Just: I’m here.

You sit in the middle, Chan next to you. His arm doesn’t rest on you, but just behind you—so you know he’s there. The car drives softly. The windows are fogged up from the difference between the outside air and the air conditioning.

No one forces you to talk.

Minho hands you a bottle of water. “For when you’re ready.”

You nod. Seungmin tucks a blanket around your shoulders. His gaze is cautious, almost apologetic. “We should never have let you out of our sight.”

“It was chaos,” you say hoarsely. “Not your fault.”

“Maybe not,” Changbin says, “but we do worry. Because we love you.”

The silence that follows is warm, not awkward.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything,” you whisper. “I didn’t know how…”

“You don’t have to justify yourself,” Chan says softly. “You were scared. That’s okay. We’re here now.”

You’re sitting on the couch in your dorm, wearing a hoodie, a bowl of warm soup in your hands.

Jisung is sitting across from you, distractedly scrolling through his phone. Minho is in the kitchen making tea. Felix is ​​lying on the couch next to you like a limp cat, gently nuzzling you.

You feel… not better right away. But calmer. Heavier in a good way like your breathing is slowing down to where it should be.

Hyunjin sits down next to you with a notebook. “I’ll write it down,” he says. “For later. So we can remember how we never want to lose each other again.”

You smile weakly. “Dramatically.”

“Yeah,” he says, “but sincerely.”

You lie under your covers. You hear a few more sounds in the dorm, a drawer, a soft laugh, the hum of the kettle.

Then: a knock on your door.

You say nothing, but the door opens softly.

Chan.

He doesn’t come in, just stands in the doorway.

“Just checking. Are you okay?”

You nod.

“Not okay-okay. But… safe.”

His face relaxes. “That’s enough for now.”

Then he turns over. “Sleep well, y/n.”

You close your eyes.

You’re not lost. You’re found.

And in the chaos of the world outside, you have eight people who will always come back. Always.

[ticklygiggles]

Closed tab | Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader [n$fw]

Commissioned by anonymous

A/N: Thank you so so much, anonymous commissioner. It was a big pleasure to work for you again, hehe. I hope you enjoy this one! Thank you! Big thanks to precious @/lovelynim for beta reading mwah

Friendly reminder that my commissions are still open! Summary: Double check before you leave.

Words: 1.7k

It was a quiet afternoon. The weather was starting to change, giving way to the heat of summer, so the fan was on, spinning while you and Kuroo were curled up on the couch. 

It wasn't that hot yet, so your legs were tangled with his as you both rested languidly on either side of the couch. There was a movie playing in the background, but the soft hum of the fan drowned out the sound, and it wasn't like you were paying much attention anyway. 

His fingers absentmindedly caressed your shin, his phone resting in his free hand, his finger sliding up. Kuroo chuckled softly every now and then when he saw a funny video.

His soft laughs would make you smile as you scrolled through Tumblr on your laptop, casually reblogging a few things, a gif here, an art post there. 

Nothing out of the ordinary, except that the content wasn't exactly ordinary... or would it be ordinary if in these gifs and art posts someone was laughing hysterically with tears in their eyes while another person tickled their feet or armpits?

Your cheeks were kissed pink, a silly smile pulled at your lips, your stomach was fluttering, but you tried to be subtle, careful, always closing the tab when Kuroo leaned over to show you something funny or when you stepped away. There was no one in the world you trusted more than Kuroo, but this kind of thing—it was just better to keep it a secret. 

You allowed your eyes to linger on a pretty gif, your mouth watering as the person in it shook their head in blissful desperation as two hands dived between their thighs, squeezing the muscle just right to make anyone screech with hysterical laughter. 

“All good, love?” Kuroo’s sudden voice made you jump.

You had nearly pressed your nose against the screen of your laptop and he was looking at you with a raised eyebrow, concern and amusement glinting in his golden eyes. You blushed slightly, but let out a soft chuckle, nodding your head. 

“I’m fine, I just… couldn’t read this part too well,” you answered vaguely, closing the internet tab and closing your laptop. “Anyways, what do you want for dinner?”

Kuroo grinned, his lips curling in that lazy smirk that you adored. “Surprise me!”

You smiled with a soft nod and headed to the kitchen.

Two minutes later, his phone rang and you recognized the notification music: it was from his work. A last-minute request to send a report before midnight, probably. It had happened before. 

“Darling–”

“Yes, of course,” you answered from the kitchen even before he could say anything. You didn’t even think about it. You’ve lent him your computer many times before and you had closed the tab from your blog…

… Except… you hadn’t.

But you were blissfully unaware of this fact as you made dinner and Kuroo typed the password of your laptop with agile fingers. 

At first, Kuroo blinked, confused. Then he stared at the screen. There it was, in all its glory, the gift you were salivating at not even ten minutes ago. Someone laughing, fingers squeezing soft, sensitive skin. It didn’t even have a caption, but at the very bottom of the post, a single tag was added: #my dream.

Kuroo swallowed.

“Oh,” he said out loud, but very quietly, you didn’t get to hear him all the way to the kitchen. 

The tips of his ears turned red and had to fight everything in him to actually start writing that email, but he came back to it once he sent it.

---

“I only made sandwiches because–” You froze mid-step as you reentered the living room with one plate on each hand. Kuroo looked up at you from your laptop… from your tickle blog. 

Your heart dropped straight to the floor, a silent gasp making its way out as your eyes widened. “Oh my god…” you whispered.

His gaze was unreadable for half a second, then it softened, and his lips curved into the slowest, most amused smirk that made your heart jump.

“So…” he started. “You like tickling, huh?”

You nearly dropped the plates, your knees nearly giving up on you. “I- I thought I closed that tab…”

“Well, seems like you didn’t, love,” he said with a soft smirk, setting the laptop aside. “Don’t panic, though. I’m not judging.”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Your face felt like it was on fire.

Kuroo stood up and walked over to you, taking the plates from your hands and setting them on the table. Then he cupped your cheeks softly, making you look at him, his thumbs gently brushing against your cheekbones as if he wanted to ground you. 

“Hey. Breathe. It's okay. Actually... it's kinda cute.”

You blinked at him, stunned. That was not happening. Kuroo did not just see your biggest secret in the whole world. You have closed the tab! You–

“Hey.” He mumbled, kissing your forehead. “Don’t panic, I don’t find it weird. At all. I don’t find you disgusting. I don’t think you're crazy.”

You blinked again, feeling the sting of tears in your eyes. “R-Really?”

He chuckled lovingly, as if you had done the most adorable thing ever and nodded. “Really, this is something you like. And I like everything about you, remember?” He pressed a kiss on the tip of your nose. “Calm down, okay?”

You nodded a little or at least tried to as you looked at him. “I- I… Is it really not weird to you?” 

His smile grew more genuine. “No, silly,” he said in that purring voice of his. “I actually am a bit interested… well, a lot interested.” His fingers moved down a little, fingertips brushing against the sides of your neck, barely touching you, but your skin broke in goosebumps and your breath hitched. 

“Do you want to…” you started, then hesitated as if you wanted him to finish your line of thoughts. 

“Tickle you?” He grinned. “Yeah. But only if you want me too.”

He really didn’t have any idea. How much you wanted him to absolutely and irrevocably wreck you until you were sobbing.

You gulped, your cheeks blushing more as you bit your lip, eyes flicking away. “... I do,” you answered in a whisper.

Kuroo leaned closer, lips almost touching yours, voice dropping low just enough to make your ears tingle. “Then… why don’t we eat those sandwiches later and we relax on the couch?” His fingers tapped gently at your waist, barely touching.

Your face flushed impossibly red, but this time you were smiling a little. Flustered. Giddy. 

A soft nervous giggle escaped your lips as he smirked and held your hand, dragging you to the couch and guiding you into a laying position. Your heart nearly escaped your chest as he straddled your hips, pinning your arms above your head with one of his own.

A laugh escaped your trembling lips and he also laughed. “What’s so funny? I’m not even doing anything yet,” he purred. 

You couldn’t talk, your body was tingling in anticipation. You both had had thousands of tickle fights before, thankfully, Kuroo never noticed how much you enjoyed whenever he got the upper hand, but now he knew and you were sure he was not going to have any mercy on you. 

And you hoped for that. 

Kuroo hummed in thought and your body instinctively pressed harder against the couch, as if you wanted to melt into it to escape his golden eyes, but he was looking at you, and when his free hand made contact with your ribcage, you nearly screeched. 

“Goodness, you’re so ticklish,” he chuckled, fingers wiggling, squeezing, clawing and digging against your ribs as if he knew exactly where to touch to drive you absolutely insane– he probably did. 

You laughed, didn’t even try to hold it back, why would you? You had been waiting for this for way too long to act subtle now. You squirmed and arched and squealed and laughed and Kuroo laughed with you, especially when you nearly lost it when his thumb rubbed deep circles on your highest rib, near the hollow of your pit. 

“STAHAHAHAP!” You begged, tears of mirth already clinging to your lashes as you bucked and squirmed under him. “Plehehehease! Tehehetsu, plehehease!”

Kuroo chuckled with mischief, making your stomach drop. “Why should I?” He asked, moving to the left side of your rib cage to attack the same rib. “If I remember correctly, you made a post on your blog talking about how badly you wanted to be tickled right here,” he said, zeroing on that poor rib with almost surgical precision. “And if I remember correctly, you wrote, and I quote: ‘... tickled until I can’t breathe. No mercy, no safe word. Just absolute torture.’”

You would have whined if you weren’t laughing so hard, tears finally escaping from your tightly shut eyes. So he did read your blog, huh? 

“Cat got your tongue?” Kuroo teased, pinching on that rib to have you screeching with hysterical laughter. “Or you’re just too ticklish and can’t even talk, hmm?”

You shook your head in desperation, your legs kicking behind him and your hips bucking, trying to push him off, but it was impossible to make him stop and the mere thought of him tickling you there for hours on end, made you cum suddenly. 

That exploding sensation made you cry out a moan, your limbs trembling and your stomach tensing as the aftershocks made you spasm.

“What- did you–?” Even though shocked, Kuroo kept tickling you through your orgasm, milking out every last bit of your pleasure until you were whimpering.

You were still gasping for air when his hand finally slowed, teasing shapes over your ribs. Your chest was heaving, cheeks flushed, your whole body limp and trembling beneath him.

Kuroo tilted his head, grinning down at you with that look, mischievous, but impossibly loving. “So,” he mumbled, brushing your damp hair from your face. “That good, huh?”

All you managed was a breathless giggle and a weak nod, making him chuckle.

He leaned in, kissed the corner of your mouth, and whispered against your lips, “and we’re only starting,” he smirked, his fingers sneaking between your legs to tease the tender spot in your inner thighs, your eyes widened. “This spot right here, it was ‘your dream’, right? Shall we make it come true?”

And from the gleam in his eyes, you knew the night was far from over.  After all, you did forget to close that tab.

[syndrossi]

Just clarifying after @carebooks' ask that I'm cool with Regnal being boring. Boring in that everything is cute and everybody lives (other than everyone who has already died and probably Crayne and a couple Volantenes) and EVERYBODY GETS A CHANCE TO BE HAPPY.

I am sure that Aemon and Baelon will be smart enough to make Laenor their bestie and be super nice and attentive to BOTH Laena and Rhaenyra, so I think Corlys' hopes for future alliances and connections will help soothe House Velaryon's upset. Especially as Baelon lives long enough to actually take the throne so Rhaenys is only skipped over the once, and for an actual reasonable choice (Baelon) instead of a dude who has nothing going for him other than having a you-know-what (Viserys).

Also, Rhaenys is going to adore those boys when she meets them, particularly Aemon, so Corlys is doomed. I wonder if Baelon can introduce the baby to her, and say he's named after her father, and they can have a heart-to-heart? (Officially requesting this next time you do prompts, omg. I have tears in my eyes just imagining it. THE GRIEF and the love. It hurts.)

As for Otto! Well, schemers gonna' scheme, but I think he'll have a harder time getting anywhere with Baelon on the throne, let alone the tag team of Daemon and Rhea! The biggest danger is probably Alicent again. Age wise, it'd work well for him to try and get Alicent and Baelon together somehow. Maybe Alicent and Aemon.

Mind, while I am truly happy with simple family picnics and hot spring visits and Jon's obsession with pulling/eating Daemon's hair, I'm also still hoping for some excitement in the protective grandpa direction. I said this somewhere recently, but just imagine the fury that will rain down upon the poor schmuck that tries to kidnap Jaehaerys and Alysanne's great-grandsons, Baelon's grandsons, Daemon and Rhea's sons... I mean, that's a literal dragon army coming at you and each one is PISSED and breathing fire. 🔥

Even Saera would not be safe, so I hope she knows what she's doing...

I do love the idea of us seeing Vhagar in a full fury, fueled by Baelon's protective rage. But who would be foolish (or bold enough) to kidnap the boys while he's in the vicinity? 🤔

Volantis: an obvious choice. Too obvious, perhaps?

Crayne is thirteenish I did the math wrong five right now, so not him!

Early Triarchy ploy? The Free Cities have got to be wondering if it's best to nip this Targaryen dragon expansion in the bud.

On that front, perhaps Dorne enters the mix? They do make for logical allies with the Triarchy, given their common concerns.

Disgruntled lord, a la Duskendale, who thinks that Viserys shouldn't have been passed over? It would be a stupid ploy to kidnap them openly, but through agents, perhaps...

Sorry, you started this ask with "it doesn't have to be stressful" and here I am!

A Rhaenys + Baelon heart-to-heart would be a fun scene to write, because it is painful and messy. He was her beloved kepa growing up, nearly as close as her own father, and yet when Jaehaerys passed over Aemon's heirs while his body was still warm, Baelon did nothing. (Baelon was deep in a depressive episode afterwards, mind, but that doesn't change how poor Jocelyn and Rhaenys were feeling! They lost a husband and a father.) I imagine they haven't spoken much since, and things have been festering, quite possibly adding fuel to Baelon's guilt/depression when it was at its bleakest.

I doubt it's as easy as "here's this babe who reminds me of your father," but it's one way to start the conversation! And they're so near to Laena, Laenor, and Rhaenyra in age that the notion of the cousins growing up together as Rhaenys, Viserys, and Daemon once did must have some appeal. Corlys likely takes a harder line, since he's pretty ambitious himself and lacks the same sentiment.

But yes, it's at least a little easier to swallow that Baelon will be king next instead of Viserys. Until Jaehaerys skips Viserys, and apparently anyone can be named heir over anyone else and the succession is chaos and why shouldn't whoever is betrothed to Laena be the next king (in the case of it being Aemon)?

On the Alicent front, she's such an awkward age right now for Otto's purposes. She's ten, so she'd be far too old for the twins, and still too young for Baelon. Now, if Jaehaerys lingers for several more years and Baelon comes to the throne around the time of Jaehaerys's death in canon, then she's much more in play from Otto's perspective. But there's also a Rhaenyra/Gwayne match possibility to say "fuck you" to the proposed Rhaenyra/Baelon!Jon match.

Plenty of potential for messiness, either way. But surely there will be plenty of adorable moments scattered throughout, and getting to write the twins as heirs of actual importance is always a fun prospect!

[the-kr8tor]

Hobat and blobbie request?

How would blobbie and Hobat first react to meeting each other if they were together inside the same universe? Let's say R just found this pile of...cat? hidden away underneath the bushes besides the house and the creature is now stuck to them like glue as soon as Hobie enters the scene

-🪦

Blobbie and Hobat!! My two favourite creatures 😍 I hope you like it!

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, set in my IPOB series, vampire! Hobie, established relationship, blob the cat symbiote au, hunter! Reader, fluff!

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You love living in a two hundred year old house, the walls are actually made of brick and stone and not cheap plywood and drywall where you can hear every shuffle from the other room. The fixtures are a work of art, every corner, every wall and every window has some kind of engraving or a design that would make every art lover stare at it in awe. Even the balconies and doorknobs are beautiful and a reminder of a bygone era.

Of course there are downsides to living in a house that's older than some statues and bridges around the country. The pipes break down every few months or so, and the amount of cobwebs and dust the house produces out of thin air would have your allergies on high alert. The house is old, yes, beautiful, absolutely. But the vintage narra floors or the fifty year old grand piano in the living room doesn't compare to the beauty and age of the vampire living in the same home as you.

Hobie practically clung to you the second he woke up from his slumber. His crimson eyes blink slowly, still crusted with sleep as he refuses to let you go inside the shared coffin. But after a thousand kisses placed on every inch of his cold face, he still wouldn't let you go so he proposed the idea that he'll turn into his bat form and hold onto you while you go about your day. To which you accepted wholeheartedly when you really needed to go to the bathroom.

It's one of those days for him you suppose.

Now with a fresh face, stomach filled with breakfast, or dinner for that matter, Hobie in his tiny bat form squeaks inside the pocket of your denim overalls. His claws grasp onto the hem, a small fluffy head peeking over the fabric as you gather your gardening supplies.

His head tilts up, looking at you through big bat eyes as he speaks to you inside his head through the mental connection he established between the two of you to communicate.

“You said you were done with chores.” Huffing, his nostrils flare at you with mild annoyance.

“I forgot about the snapdragons in the greenhouse. It's feeding day, remember?” To placate Hobat, you pat his head simply with your index finger. To which he shuts his eyes close in content. “After this it's your turn to feed.”

His eyes whip open, smiling happily at you. “Really? ‘m sick of bloodbags, lovie, it makes my throat itch.”

Chuckling, you pull open the glass door to the greenhouse, humidity hitting right on your face the second you enter. “You and I both know that it's the same blood from me, Hobie. Just in a different bag. Besides, you can help me with watering the plants so I can finish this faster and therefore you can feed.”

Smiling, his neck is probably hurting by now from the prolonged tilt. “Remind me why you need to do all of this when they're not your plants?”

“The trio may be out at summer camp but that doesn't mean I'm going to let their plants die.” You utter, feeling eyes on the back of your head as you kneel down to fill the watering can with water. As you look at the source, you find nothing but Miles’ snake plant that hisses and calls for you.

Hobie snorts inside your mind. “I bet the camera crew are havin’ a field day with all the supernatural beings at the summer camp.”

You shake the feeling away, “definitely, a selkie friend of mine that went there once said that the place is brimming with different entities.” Standing up, heaving the heavy watering can, you slide it beside the snapping snap dragons as they bare their sharp teeth at you. “Did you go to the summer camp, Hobie?”

Scoffing, he rests comfortably inside your pocket. “It didn't exist yet, love, if it was I wouldn't go.”

Opening a drawer to grab the snapdragons’ meal, you feel eyes on you once again, hand pausing on the drawer. “Why not?”

“I hate schmoozin’ with other vampires, you know that— you alright? You're distracted, I can hear your thoughts, remember?” Lifting off from your pocket and flying into a hanging potted plant, he perches himself on the clay while he gazes around the greenhouse. “You hear that?” His pointed ears twitch.

“I think so.” Dropping everything on the counter, you grab a nearby pair of sharp shears at the ready. “I keep feeling someone staring at me.”

“You sure it's not me or Pav's dozen mandrake plants?”

“No, it's different.” Raising the garden shears, you slowly walk towards what you think is the source of the wandering eyes. As you near the fluffy pink cotton candy bush, you quickly grab it and unfurl the curly leaves open to reveal— nothing. Letting your guard down, you laugh at yourself. “I guess it was really just the mandrakes—!” Something gooey and black encapsulates your vision, making you stagger around like a chicken inside the greenhouse.

“Love!” Hobie swoops in, retaining his bat form but instead of the cute and fluffy kind, he turns into a large bat that's the size of a bike. His wings flap around, claws desperately grabbing at the black blob sticking to your face. “Hold on! Can you breathe?!”

“Mmhm!” You gasp, clawing at the mess on your face.

“Shit!” Without a choice, Hobie bares his fangs, sinking it inside the slimy flesh. Within a half second, the black goo stretches away from your face and onto a nearby table.

You fall to your knees, gasping for breath as Hobie returns to his regular form, cold callused hands grasping at your face with worry.

“Jus’ breathe, love, breathe.” His hands desperately cling to you, eyes etched with concern as he sees your frantic expression. “What the fuck was that?”

Your eyes widens, and Hobie uses his quick senses and raises his arm up behind him, effectively thwarting an attack from behind. There's scratching over his arm, but the vampire doesn't care as he slowly turns towards your would-be assassin with a glare.

“What the fuck are you?” You and Hobie simultaneously say, curiosity replacing fear as the goop that was suffocating you is now a black cat with white eyes and sharp teeth.

“Mreow?” The so-called cat tilts his head adorably. Maybe that's his way of dropping your guard down by using his cuteness.

“Nah, this isn't a bloody cat.” Hobie shakes the black cat in his arm until it lets out mewls.

“Hobie, stop.” A hand wraps around his bicep while you look at the cat's big shiny white eyes that seem to look at you apologetically. “I think he's saying sorry.”

“Say—! Love, it almost suffocated you!” He exclaims, still holding the cat at arm's length away from you. “I had to bite its ass! It tasted like black liquorice for some reason!”

“I know you hate that stuff, but trust me on this one.” You gaze at him softly, palm gently brushing along his jaw. “Please let the void go?”

When he doesn't respond, steely red eyes staring at you flatly, you bring out the big guns. With one final stare at the cat that's now licking cutely at its paw, you pucker up, pressing a sweet kiss at Hobie's cheek. You hear his staggered breathing from the kiss, eyes closing slowly as he savours the sweetness and warmth you provide for him.

Leaning away, you bat your lashes and gaze at him fondly. “Now can you let him go?”

Sighing, Hobie kisses you back right on the tip of your nose briefly before moving away. “One day your bribery won't work on me anymore.”

“We both know that isn't true.” You say with a smirk, knowing that you've won.

Rolling his eyes, he gently nuzzles your cheek for a moment with a longing sigh. “I know, love.” Gently placing the cat down on solid ground, it mewls for attention immediately. Yours specifically as he walks elegantly on his paws. “‘m keepin’ an eye on him.”

“Alright,” you shrug, approaching the cat with your palm up as you let it sniff your hand. You've found weirder things inside the ancient house, whether that's a book written in an unknown language or a dodo bird casually roaming around the basement, this one takes the cake. But you're not at all surprised by it, you'll look up what exactly this cat is in your tomes, but for now, you'll make sure that he's fed. Judging from his skinny goopy body, he needs some food in his system. “I think I just startled him earlier.” Just as you said it, the cat licks at your finger daintily after giving it a good sniff.

Hobie leans back, watching the interaction closely. “Sure— oi, where are you goin'?”

You abruptly stand up, gesturing for the cat to follow you. “I'm going to see what he eats so I can feed him.”

Standing up and following suit, Hobie scrunches his nose. “What? For all we know he eats brains! Don't let him inside the house!”

“You drink blood, Hobie, and we let you inside the house.” You say teasingly with an eyebrow raised.

“It's my bloody house?” He scoffs out, hands on his hips as the various metals on his belt jingles. “What happened to feedin’ me first?”

You meet with the cat's milky eyes before the two of you turn towards Hobie. “Finish watering the plants and we can.” Smiling at the slimy mess at your feet, you wave at him again to follow you. “Come on blobbie, let's find you something to eat.”

“You named him already?!” Hobie stands in the middle of the greenhouse all alone while the plants snap at him for food. “Lovie!”

[purble-turble]

For the art reqests- i think its time to put YandeMK and his RedSon (and Maybe Mei too) in the spotlight. they're the only ones that haven't been drawn out yet its only fair

Yes! Thank you for this request, you’re right these guys do deserve to have their designs officially.

As it has been stated previously, Yandere MK is a standard looking MK. This is purposeful on his part because it’s an advantage to him to look as unassuming as possible so that no one can tell he’s changed just from the outside.. the only way to know it’s him is if you catch him making that dark, possessive look at a Red Son (or if he’s actively kidnapping one lol)

As for Red Son, he’s the one who’s been most affected here, so I made him look less edgy and more depressed… and yeah the best way I could think to do that is to give him the ‘dead anime mom’ hair style 😂 Mei I also left alone for now because I didn’t have any specific ideas for her, but I could be persuaded to change her design later with a good enough idea

[batshit-auspol]

As is tradition we held our annual "Batshit Aussie Moment of The Year" poll on twitter this month, and as is also tradition it was a complete dumpster fire and we ended up having to delete our account again. Such is life, as the French don't say.

Nevertheless we had a lot of great nominations from what was truly a year full of the utmost topshelf batshittery which we shan't be letting go to waste. So we preset:

Batshit Aussie Moments of The Year, The Now Undemocratic Countdown

Leading the nominations there was of course Raygun, the little Aussie PHD breakdancer that couldn't. Recently she has trademarked her name and there was a whole lawsuit around using it so no further comment on that.

Dr Ray was followed close in second place by Australia's former Deputy Prime Minister being filmed drunkenly making phonecalls while sprawled across a sidewalk.

This glorious video saw the good people of Australia rise to the occasion with all the pisstaking the moment deserved, complete with chalk crime scene markings, a plaque being installed, and a candlelight vigil held by locals.

Also making a strong showing in the polls was Australia's richest woman Gina Rinehart pulling a Barb Streisand by demanding her unflattering portrait be removed from Australia's National Art Gallery, which of course made it immediately go viral.

Lol. Also noteworthy in the nominations was the horse that escaped its enclosure and tried to flee by catching a train, making national news headlines in the process.

But for all those big names/horses who we're sure would love the limelight, the crown title of this year's Batshit Aussie Moment of The Year is being awarded to a regular everyday Aussie (and tumblr user) who fought the system and (almost) won:

After 23 year old Aussie racecar driver Oscar Piastri won the Hungarian Grand Prix, our very own @the-prophesied-mouse "jokingly submitted an e‒petition" to Australia's parliament asking that the day become a public holiday, "assuming it would get thrown out".

Instead their request for a yearly national "Oscar Piastri Day" crossed the threshold of signatures required for a response, being then escalated all the way to the Prime Minister's desk after the responding minister decided it was of utmost importance.

After being sternly considered by no less than three government ministers, sadly in November it was declared that the petition would not be ratified, due to the small issue of the federal government not having the power to create holidays (it's apparently a state thing).

The government did however point out that many national days are celebrated without official proclamation from the Australian government, and so it is, with the powers vested in us by all you loveable weirdos, that we do solemnly declare from this day forth that the 21st July shall be forever known as Oscar Piastri Day, and may all non-believers fear our wrath.

Anyway, happy new year to you all from us here in Aus. Farewell to a truly Batshit year, and here's to no doubt more of the same in 2025. We will leave you with this heartfelt reminder of a true national treasure we lost this year, the progenor of perhaps the most iconic Aussie batshit moment of all time, The Right Hon. Mr Democracy Manifest:

Happy new years to youze all!

[luveline]

hey babe can I request Hotch with a reader girlfriend who’s desperately shy? early seasons hotch please when he’s still smiley (maybe still has Jack tho), i would love to see how he treats a long term girlfriend in your eyes one who he’s just completely gone for 

fem, 0.9k

You should know better than to come to work without venturing up to Aaron’s private office, but you’re late coming in and there’s a ton of stuff to do and he’s supposed to pretend that he cares when you turn in your work late. You log in and start going through things slowly. There are a few emails to respond to, some queries, a consult request Aaron himself has forwarded with a note —your expertise is required. 

You wiggle your mouse to wake the screen. You hadn’t realised you’d gotten stuck until it was dark. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” someone murmurs, tipping your head back to kiss your cheek, “where have you been?” 

He speaks quietly, no one else can hear him, but he enthuses his tone with so much love that you can’t decide between laughter or tears. You turn breathless instead, a thumb against your throat as Aaron’s loving questioning continues, “I thought we talked about this, hmm? You coming up to see me? How else am I supposed to know that you’re here?” 

There’s no Emily sitting at the desk opposite yours. No Spencer adjacent, no Derek to the right. It explains why he’s butter soft, but not his worry. 

“I was nearly late. I’m sorry.” 

He starts to kiss you gently, quietly, his lips tracking over the side of your cheek and pressing in as he goes until his nose is against your temple. “Don’t be sorry, I just wanted to see you.” He holds you to him. “I missed you.”

“Are you okay?” you ask, wishing you were brave enough to tack handsome, or love on the end. 

���Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“I thought maybe you were still stressed about Emily.” 

Aaron pulls away, giving you your first proper look at him that morning. He’s as handsome as ever. It makes your chest spike with anxiety. You worry all the time that you’ll lose him; the thought that he might realise all the things you’re missing and break things off is a constant at the back of your mind. It only ever goes quiet when he’s kissing you. “Prentiss has done well so far,” he says. “I’m not happy to have things rearranged above my head, but I have no problem with Emily. Now, how was your morning?” 

“It was fine.” 

“I want to know. Breakfast?” 

“Yeah, oatmeal.” 

He grins. “Me too.” 

Nobody would ever believe that this is your boyfriend when he’s commanding a room during a profile, or apprehending an UnSub with his impassive, furrowed brow. You assumed it was the honeymoon phase at first. It’s not like his affection makes much sense, but if he’s not stressed, it just means he loves you, which is nice. You hold the back of your hand to his cheek, laughing in a shock when he turns his face and traps it between his cheek and his shoulder. 

“No more late mornings,” he says decisively. 

“I wasn’t technically late. I wasn’t early enough to come up to see you, is all. Are you upset I didn’t bring you your coffee?” 

“Is that what you think?” he asks, smiling as he kisses your wrist, before straightening. You let your hand fall and he catches it on the way down. 

“I don’t know. You’re much too touchy. I’m trying to deduce why, but…” 

“Profile me,” Aaron says. He gives your hand a squeeze. “You know how to do it, honey. Figure out my motive from my past behaviours.” 

Aaron’s only ever this sweet on you when you’re in his bed. Well, ‘only ever’ is harsh, but he’s never not sweet on you in the afterglow. And that’s because intimacy is a constant reminder of how close you really are to one another, why he loves you, and why you love him. So perhaps he’s being sweet on you because you’ve reminded him how loved he is? But it doesn’t make much sense. You forgot his coffee.

Your stomach goes warm. “Oh. Oh,” you say, “I called you last night.” 

“You did.” 

“I was tired.” 

“But you were beautiful,” he says, and what does that mean? It’s not as though he could see your face. “I can’t remember the last time you were like that. Not since we were in Helena.”

You can’t remember it clearly. Threads of what you’d said come back to you slowly. Love you, my sweetheart, my Aaron. Can you come over? I know it’s late, I need to see you. You were too tired to function, let alone call someone, and yet. 

Your face is on fire. 

“Sorry I couldn’t come over, honey,” he says, chucking you under the chin with a curled finger. “I would’ve, I promise, but I had Jack until we swapped this morning.”

You go hot all over. “No, I know. It’s fine, I shouldn’t have called you–”

“Who says you can’t call me?” 

“Nobody, but I shouldn’t have.”

“You can call me anytime you want.” He tips your chin up. “Quick, Spencer’ll have finished what I asked him to do soon. Can I kiss you?” 

“I forgot it was your day for Jack–”

He takes your face into his hand. “Doesn’t matter, honey. Kiss?” 

You close your eyes and lift your chin. Ever your prince, Aaron squeezes your cheek gently and leans in to kiss you, far warmer than you’re expecting, his thumb rubbing over your cheek with a reverence he couldn't fake if he wanted to. 

[pedgito]

𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 | Harry Castillo x reader

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | Five years of being his assistant and five years of failed attempts at finding love with your help, but maybe the obvious answer has been there the entire time. Alternatively, you fucked your boss? Uh-oh.

author's note | harry...randy...who knows. i'll change it if needed but given the name tag, this is what i'm sticking with for now. skip the lecture about not writing until the movie is out, this isn't hurting anyone so don't bother me about it, xo. the horny demons always win. i listened to this song i repeat while i wrote, felt fitting.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, power imbalance (boss/assistant), work wife/work husband type beat, mentions of failed dating, being superficial, mentions of sugar daddy things, expensive gifts, reader is a godly assistant with a will stronger than mine, he smokes, they drink, sex while inebriated, he's down so bad, also oral!, tense morning after, open-ended

word count — 4.5k

You knew him better than anyone.

From his breakfast order down to his specific choice of underwear, like you weren’t making the weekly purchases and filling up his rarely used fridge in the apartment that was way out your price range, arranging his schedule down to the minute, booking his flights, packing his bag.

Really, Harry should just marry you.

…it was more of a joke, but you’ve teased him about it once or twice.

He called you his work wife anyways, but in reality, you were just his assistant.

He did trust you with his life, though.

More importantly, his love life.

“Kim flaked,” he tells you over coffee, perched at his kitchen island as you typed away on your laptop, looking up briefly with eyes that begged for him to explain, he does and makes a show about, mimicking a more feminine voice as he relays the message she gave him, “same song and dance—you’re great and fun but I can’t do anything serious right now,”

“Were you nice?” you ask curiously.

Harry rolls his eyes at that, like it was a stupid question to ask. But, eventually he nods.

“Did you ask questions?” you continue, fingers folding over the screen of your laptop to close it.

“Plenty, she works in finance, loves the color blue, wants to travel,” he could go on and on, throwing his hands up in defeat before they slump to his side, “maybe I should try out a real matchmaker—not that you’re bad at it—”

“You think I’m bad at it,” you smile knowingly, “don’t you?”

“No,” you’re unconvinced, “besides—you’re my assistant, I never meant for that type of responsibility to fall on you, you know?”

“I’m doing both of us a favor,” you remind him, “I think…it just takes time.”

And fortunately, all you had was time.

It felt pointless for Harry to spend a chunk of cash to have someone pair him up with the supposed love of his life, though you knew that money wasn’t a problem, you felt a weird responsibility to protect him, unsure how quickly someone would take advantage of his kindness.

“There’s a gala,” you tell him offhandedly, “next week. I already cleared your schedule for it. I think…maybe you should just peruse this time.”

“Peruse?” he chuckles, eyes creasing in amusement, his crow’s feet deepening with the emotion, “You’re a control freak, you sure about that?”

“That’s just mean,” you retort, “you’re paying me anyways—if you didn’t like it you’d fire me.”

He knew you were right, sipping quietly at his coffee in response.

He was frustrating, predictable, and painfully superficial. 

Every date was an exercise in appearances—perfectly tailored suits, dinner at the most exclusive places, charm turned up to eleven. And yet, none of it ever stuck. He was overcompensating and you weren’t sure why.

He was a good guy, down to his core, and in the five years you had worked with him there was never a moment you thought he didn’t deserve love, he was perfect. Too perfect.

That was the problem.

“You know, you’re like prime age to be a sugar daddy,” you tease him, knowing how he felt about the topic, “there’s plenty of apps that I can—”

“You’re relentless,” he grumbles, “if you ever did that, I’m firing you on the spot.”

“You wouldn’t,” it was a gentle challenge, smirk flashing across your face as he returned it with fondness, “without me you would crash and burn, Mr. Castillo.”

And he knows it.

–

The gala is a bust.

So, as a bandaid to his wounded ego, you order takeout and keep him company in his big, lavish apartment—it wasn’t the first time, it wouldn’t be the last.

You knew what the issue was, but there was a sinking feeling in your stomach that told you he wouldn’t receive the information well.

It was after every failed date, every expensive dinner.

They saw him at the surface, the charming man with an easy, warm smile.

You saw the man who kicked his shoes off and stripped himself of his suit jacket the second he walked through the door, who couldn’t resist a late-night binge of his newest streaming obsession, someone who insisted on stirring his coffee counterclockwise because it made it taste better, a man would text you pictures of squirrels in the park that he would feed on his way home.

It wasn’t that you were pining over him. You just knew him better than anyone.

“Why are you so dead set on marriage?” you ask him over dinner, turned toward him on the couch as he reaches for the remote to pause the show on screen.

He’s had this conversation before, but he’s never asked you any questions on the matter.

“What’s your opinion on it?” he’s avoiding, clearly, but you’ll bite.

“I don’t date, I’m not interested, signing a piece of paper isn’t going to signify my feelings toward someone if it came down to that,” you admit, “I’m not cynical, marriage is fine, but this stuff takes time,”

“Well, I’m not getting any younger,” Harry gripes, arms reaching over the back of the couch as he mirrors your position.

“Oh, please,” you scoff, “you’re forty-nine.”

“Almost fifty,” he corrects, “I’m ancient.”

“O-kay,” you sigh, “do you want honesty?”

“I’d hope you were being honest with me all the time.”

“No,” you laugh softly, “like…brutal fucking honesty?”

He’s silent, but attentive. 

“You keep choosing women who treat you like they’re next getaway vacation and you fall for it every time,” his forehead creases at the words, looking hurt by your words, “I see your bank payments every month, the activity—”

“It’s not like money is an issue,” he defends, causing you to sigh dramatically and fall back against the arm of the couch in faux distress.

“This is impossible,” you groan, staring up at the ceiling before you feel his hand circle around your wrist, tugging gently,

“Okay, I’m listening,” Harry says softly, pulling you upright, “I’m sorry—I am.”

“You want it to work so bad,” you tell him, “I see it—every time you approach someone you put on that smile and it works, but you’re giving so much and yeah, maybe some of them like that, but I’m sure a few would just enjoy a nice dinner here, or something simple. I think you forget to realize that someone can just be interested in you, for you, not for what you are or have,”

It’s profound, the way his face softens at your words, his touch still lingering around your wrist.

You’ve never even considered or entertained the idea that you might find Harry attractive or even attainable—for one, you had signed a contract that agreed to a professional work relationship, as a benefit for both of you, not that he ever had any intention to begin with.

You’ve been with him for so long, it feels, a fresh and young mind to help keep him active and busy, constantly refreshing ideas and helping him not feel like he was stuck, and you were damn good at taking care of him when he’s often tended to neglect himself.

The only thing you know is that he’s never looked at you like that.

Like you could see straight through him, all his flaws on display.

But, that was because you knew all of them.

You knew everything about him, even the worse bits.

His bad habits, his self-inflicting ones, everything that he refused to bring to the surface.

Harry’s fingers still lingered around your wrist, the weight of your words sinking in. 

But then, just like he always did, he broke the tension with a huff of laughter and frowns as he brushed you off.

“You just think I’m a sucker, don’t you?”

You shook your head with a faint smile, returning your arm to your lap.

“No—I think you like to see the good in people. So much good that you’re willing to ignore red flags.”

“Jeez,” he chuckled, clutching his stomach like you had physically wounded him, “that hurt.”

You shrugged and reached for the remote to resume the picture on screen, “You’ll survive.”

–

It was your day off—Sunday, the one day.

“Have you seen my cufflinks laying around?” he asked over the video call, “Shit—my tie, too. I can’t find it anywhere. I thought you said you laid it out for me.”

“No, I said I had it hung up and for you to lay it out before you showered,” you correct him, laying tiredly on your couch as you watched him search around frantically, hair damp and his bare shoulders on display, only catching the briefest glimpses of the towel around his waist as he turned the camera around, “Waitwait—go back!”

“There’s no fucking way you saw it,” Harry argues, “I’ve been looking for the last ten minutes—”

“In the pocket of your suit, the tie is there,” you tell him, “and given that you probably tossed the suit on the bed like you always do, the cufflinks are probably somewhere hiding under the blanket,”

He tosses you against the mattress, your screen succumbing to darkness as you wait, some shifting of the sheets before you hear him make a sound before he appears again, cufflinks pinched between his fingers and a look of defeat on his face.

“What would you do without me?” you ask with a cocky grin, finger hovering over the end call button as he shakes his head.

“What was this for again?” Harry asks curiously, laying you down upright as you caught a glimpse of his bare chest as he shrugged the crisp, white button down over his shoulders.

“It’s a charity auction, your favorite,” you chirp, “and you’re flying solo, so—don’t do anything stupid or…crass,”

“If I paid you double a day of work would you go?” Harry asks after a long pause, glancing down at the screen, “Triple?”

“Triple?!” you gawk, “see—you’re insane, this is what I’m talking about,”

He chuckles despite your response, “You’re good at keeping the sharks away,”

There were particular hawking businessmen who made it their mission to hunt Harry down at events and keep him occupied, eager to do business, whatever it may be—you were the unspoken master of redirection, as much as he refused to admit it.

“Can we grab dinner on the way?” 

“Burgers?” Harry asks, perking up slightly.

It was a constant go-to for you and him.

You nod through the screen, “Don’t even bother with the tie either, I’ll do it.”

–

“I can’t believe you roped me into this on my day off,” you whisper at his side, earning a half-smirk from him.

The charity auction was as lavish as you’d expected.

Crystal chandeliers, gold accents, and far too much champagne and hors d'oeuvres. 

Harry’s hand found the small of your back the moment you arrived, steering you through a sea of designer gowns and tuxedos, feeling uncomfortable in the tight dress and stilettos that you only wore on rare occasions, biting at your heels.

“You’ll survive,” he grins, grabbing you both a glass of champagne and pressing it into your waiting fingers, “I’m gonna…peruse, alright?”

“Don’t say it—that just makes you sound like a creep,” your face scrunches up in disgust as you sip at the alcohol, “just go—go, I’ll…handle everything else.”

The evening passed in a blur of small talk and polite smiles, but somewhere between the endless speeches and bidding wars, you found yourself on the balcony, the cool night air a welcome relief in the stuffy ballroom.

You smell him before you see him, the thick and rich scent of his cologne so familiar you swear you could find him on that alone, turning over your shoulder to see him closing the door quietly, cigarette pack tucked in his palm as he approached with a neutral expression.

“You okay?” you ask, leaning against the railing of the balcony.

Harry sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and then plucking a single cigarette from the box, “Honestly? I’m just tired of it.”

“The auctions? Charity?” you inquire, a small smile tugging at your face.

“All of it.” He looked at you, his gaze lingering as he lit the tobacco, “The events, the dates, searching for—I don’t even fucking know at this point,”

“The offer stands…” you say jokingly, though he knows exactly where this is heading.

“If I wanted a sugar baby I’d find one.”

Your eyes roam over his figure as he puffs at the cigarette, pulling a deep laugh from his chest before you’re pushing him away playfully.

“Let’s go,” he tells you with a deep sigh, stubbing out the end of the cigarette and tucking it away for later, tossing his arm over your shoulder as he readied to guide you through the crowd, always protective in spaces like this, another thing that was special to him.

–

The ride home is quiet, like it always is, both of you sitting in the backseat with the partition up, watching as he looked through his phone with a scowl, occasional typing and sending a message.

Eventually, he looks at you.

“Thank you,” He says with a soft tone, “I know this isn’t your favorite thing to do.”

You tilted your head into the headrest and smiled, crossing one thigh over the other as you worked at your heels to remove them, “Oh, it wasn’t that bad—the free alcohol is always a plus.”

He chuckled at that, silently helping you remove your shoes with a soft squeeze to your foot.

That was normal—but, it forces you to pause.

His natural instinct to help, to touch, to comfort you.

Your brow furrows at the gesture before you shake it away, blaming it on the buzz of alcohol in your system, watching as he continues the gesture with the other foot.

“Having you there makes it bearable, is all,” he explains, looking up at you briefly as he undid the tie around your ankle, “you…calm me, I guess.”

You swallowed. Hard.

The warmth of his words lingering in your chest, in his touch against your ankle, “You’d do the same for me.”

And he would—if you ever needed anything, anything, Harry was there.

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly, “without question.”

The sincerity caught you off guard. 

You turned to study him, the familiar slope of his nose, the line of his jaw. There was something about the way he looked tonight—tired, maybe, but softer. 

And he keeps looking at you, checking.

The car moved smoothly through the dimly lit streets, the city blurring past in streaks of gold and blues and reds. The hum of the engine was steady, the faint sound of music barely audible from the front, through the glass, the back lit up dimly by the trim of lights on the roof and door.

Harry leaned back, one hand moved against the seat, his other hand dragging slowly over his thigh—restless. 

Instinctually, without thinking, you reached for his hand.

It wasn’t purposeful. Just a simple act of absentmindedness.

You’ve done it a hundred times before. 

Tugged at his sleeves to fix his cufflinks, brushed lint from his lapel or pants, adjusted the collar of his shirts. Constantly fixed his hair, touching him wasn’t new.

His skin was warm. Not hot, not cold.

You felt the slight twitch of his hand, like he was debating whether to move. Instead, his fingers shifted, just a fraction, enough that the edge of his thumbnail brushed over the inside of your wrist.

The contact was thoughtless, nothing.

But, in the same moment, it felt like everything.

The way his eyes watched the movement, roamed your body like they had before but with a different implication, his eyes half-lidded and relaxed, wondering how much alcohol he had consumed himself—this wasn’t friendly.

And it definitely wasn’t professional.

Harry’s gaze was on you now, your face, as you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his hand.

Then his thumb moved. 

Up. 

Barely. 

A soft drag along your pulse.

It was half a decade of avoidance, defeat in his heart and mind, and fear in your own.

Broken, by the car rolling to a stop outside of Harry’s apartment building.

“We’re here, Mr. Castillo,” the voice of the driver came from the front, a nod of acknowledgement as his hand slipped from yours.

“Oh, hold on,” you were scooting aside to let him out, readied for the next stop as he cocks his head toward the building, “I’ve got something for you—I’ll drive you home, don’t worry,”

“Harry,” you stress, looking down at his hand that waves you toward him, extending out for you to grab, insistently as his fingers wiggle in wait.

Turns out, he wasn’t totally lying.

That something was accompanied by a seven thousand dollar bottle of Leroz Aux Brulees—you knew that because you had purchased it during his trip to France, the supposed city of love.

“I’m going to murder you,” you tell him as he places the bottle on the counter and keeps the closed case of mystery at his side, “hide your body, flee country—I hate surprises, you know that.”

“I think you’ll like this one,” he grins, popping the cork on the bottle and pouring two hefty glasses, eyeing the deep red as it glugged into the glass.

“You know, if you wanted company you could have just asked,” you tell him, “I get it, you’re lonely,”

He knows you’re only teasing but it stings nonetheless, both of you taking a long and heavy sip as his fingers swirl over the velvet casing before he’s pushing it over quickly, tapping it with his fingers, “Open it,” he encourages, eyeing you over the rim.

You place your glass down and pry it open slowly, carefully, like you were deconstructing a bomb, but as the piece inside comes into view you find yourself at a loss for words or thoughts.

Your eyes are wide, staring up at him with parted lips that tingled from the lingering alcohol, knowing you should have cut yourself off at one glass of champagne and refused to come inside, that you should have just went home and enjoyed what little bit of the day you had left to yourself.

Now, you were looking back at a necklace so delicate you were afraid to stare at it too long, embedded with a cluster of diamonds and nearly two years of your rent if you were doing the math correctly in your mind.

Always about the numbers, Harry constantly teased.

“I saw how you looked at it the other day,” he admits, “and I owe you a hell of a lot more, but it…I’m trying to say thank you for…being you,”

“I’m not taking that,” you refuse with a laugh of disbelief, sliding back over to him gently, downing the rest of your wine in one go to forget how fast your heart was beating in your chest.

“You are,” Harry insists, “consider it a bonus—Christmas is in a couple months, too.”

“You know…this is exactly that kind of stuff a sugar da—”

Harry makes a noise, shaking his head.

You bite your lip in thought, ignoring his subtle annoyance at your comment.

It was fucking beautiful, really.

You sigh, using one finger to turn the case back toward you, examining it closely.

Quietly, Harry presses his glass into the counter and rounds the edge toward you, his chest at your shoulder as he reaches for the jewelry, working carefully at the clasp before he’s motioning for you to relax your shoulders.

It wasn’t the stillness of the moment, but his touch, again.

He’s methodical in the way he touches you, dragging his hand around your neck as he fits the necklace into place, his fingertips pressing against the column of your throat in a way that tickles slightly, shifting uncomfortably until you hear the faint click and he breathes behind you, hands resting at your shoulders.

You’re not sure why he hasn’t moved, but you find yourself turning to speak.

“I’m just going to call an uber,” you tell him, “probably shouldn’t drive since we’ve both been drinking,”

“Yeah,” he agrees, but it sounds hollow, his eyes not following you as you move.

You hop from the chair and bend down to grab your shoes, but his hand is curling around your bicep and pulling you up and he’s staring again, the charge of his touch sending a jolt through your body as freeze,

“Come here,” he beckons, too natural.

And you listen.

He’s soft, every part of him. Skin, clothes, hair, lips.

He’s kissing you gently, like you might break, but you can tell he wants more.

Needs more.

“Are you going to regret this tomorrow?” you find yourself asking as he parts from you, licking at his lips as you both take a breath, letting the moment settle.

He shakes his head, “Are you?”

“Maybe,” you answer honestly, “maybe…not—fuck, I don’t know,”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he promises, but you knew that was a lie.

Still, you nod in understanding.

–

He’s so tender with his touch, slipping you out of the dress in the dim light of his room.

Even softer as he guides you to your back and spreads himself on his belly between your legs, fingers interlocked with his at your hips as he buries his nose between your folds, his tongue splitting your cunt open in a sharp gasp that has you throwing your head back. His lips traced a slow, deliberate path down your body, igniting sparks along every inch of your skin. 

He kissed along the curve of your thighs, teasing, tasting, until the tension was unbearable and with each flick of his tongue, each gentle suck, it pulled you deeper into a haze of heady desire. 

This was reckless, dangerous, but neither of you found the moment to pause and think.

You wonder if things had been building to this for a while—if it was always supposed to happen this way or if he was acting off of greed; lust and companionship, even if just for a night.

You know you can ask him to stop at any point and he would, but even as his tongue brings you to your first orgasm of the night and he’s guiding you to your stomach, reaching blindly into his bedside table for a foil wrapping the crinkles loudly in the silence, you want this.

It was embarrassing how badly you wanted this.

He fucks you slow, too. 

It was torturous, his chest flat against your back as he palms his cock and feeds it into you.

You don’t talk, neither does he.

But, his low moans and stuttering breaths speak for him.

If you could see him, you’d know how furrowed his brow would be, a hand sliding over the curve of your ass until he can reach your thigh, beckoning for you to raise it without speaking.

You oblige, the angle of his thrusts changing on a dime.

“I can’t believe you’re real sometimes,” he admits like he’s confessing a sin.

“Please,” you plead—please stop talking, please keep going, please fuck me.

You couldn’t decide.

You feel him nod where his forehead is pressed between your shoulder blades as his fist curls into the sheet beside your head.

“Another, gimme another,” he pleads, the fingers on his other hand curling under your neck to life your chin, not expecting to meet his eyes as he leans over you.

The expression on his face so raw it makes you flutter around him, his lips parting in a deep, guttural groan, “I know you can,” he nods hurriedly.

And damn, does the praise work.

Your whimper breaks him, breathing out shakily as you locked eyes when he comes, slow and forceful thrusts until you’re nothing but an exhausted pile of tangled limbs.

“Greedy girl,” he comments through the haze, a weak giggle bubbling from your chest.

He pulls out slowly, a low grunt as he does so.

You’re not sure when you fall asleep, but you wake to a startling amount of weight over your stomach, an arm splayed possessively, the faint outline of a ring as you drag your hand over the limb.

It’s only as your eyes pry open that reality hits you, stumbling out of bed quickly.

No…nononono, where the fuck were your clothes? Jesus.

You stumble around half awake, searching for the silk dress on the floor, feeling accomplished when you find it and hastily redressing yourself as Harry stirs in bed, encouraging you to hurry, to slip out before he can say anything.

Your shoes are already on and you’re reaching for the doorknob when the voice comes, the weight of the necklace that still remained on your neck, two empty glasses of wine on the counter, a night of hasty choices and urgency laid out like a crime scene as his voice rings out from behind you, pleading.

“Don’t—don’t go,” Harry begs, “You don’t have to go,”

So much of this was wrong—it complicated everything.

Your life, your job, your relationship with him.

He can see you slipping, fingers inching toward the knob as he approaches you in a hurry, barefoot and shirtless, the kind of scene you shouldn’t be comforted with, like this was all normal to the both of you.

You’ve seen him like this a thousand times, but not when he’s looking at you so vulnerable, heart tore open and stapled to his chest, beating against your own as his hands splayed out over your cheeks.

“I don’t regret it,” he assures you again, “so please—stay, okay?”

“What changed?” you ask, voice trembling, “Five years, Harry. Five.”

“I’ve been running in circles this entire time,” he admits, “you know it—I know it.”

You had been there the entire time, learning every part of him without judgement, cataloging his flaws and skills, learning how he ticked and what motivated him. You had never quite settled on the ideal person to fit in his life as his partner, it surely wasn’t you.

It couldn’t be you.

“Please, don’t go,” Harry echoed once more.

The sick, cruel joke of it all was that this was your job. 

You had nowhere to go. If it was any other morning, you would just be arriving, leaving his breakfast in the kitchen and starting your day.

You nod solemnly, “Of course, Mr. Castillo.”

It was painstaking, forcing the mask back on.

But, you couldn’t deal with this now.

Or ever, even.

Harry looks at you with a confused sadness, thumbs rubbing at your cheekbones before his hands fall to his side.

You’d figure this out, you always did.

[f1amour]

「 ✦ F1 GRID — LETS GET PHYSICAL

˖ ࣪ 𖥔 navigation. | requests — open | main masterlist (coming soon)

drivers included | max verstappen, charles leclerc, carlos sainz, lando norris, oscar piastri, daniel ricciardo, franco colapinto, lewis hamilton

description | drivers and their favorite kinks

content warnings | mature content ahead — 18+ only, minors do not interact

authors note | hope everyone enjoys reading this one! if you have any requests for drabbles or blurbs involving those i write for please send it in and i will try to get it out as soon as possible <3 *not spelled checked*

─────────────────────────

— 𝐌𝐀𝐗 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐍 ¹

҉ PRAISE KINK !

— whether he praised you or you praised him; max verstappen was an absolute whore for praising

— both in public and behind closed doors he would take the praises only from you. being a three time world champion as many reminded him of his accomplishments he’d down play it. but you? oh he loved when you’d sing his praises

— “you did so great out there, maxie. no one does it like you.” praising him in public after a great race would look like that. behind closed doors was another story; “right there, max. fuck you’re doing so well keep going.” “only you know my body, no one compares”

— on the other hand max loved praising you and he was an absolute menace for it when he’d have you bent over the bed fucking you with his hands gripping your hair; “come on, baby. squeezing me so tight you love being handled like this, hmm?” “you’re doing so well for me, baby.” “such a good girl for me.”

҉ QUICKIES !

— max loved taking his time with you but with his busy schedule especially on race weekends he couldn’t give you enough time. however, he always made the most of the 10-20 minutes you had together on any occasion.

— whether it be 10 minutes before he’s gotta go out for the national anthem or 15 minutes before he is due to attend the press conference he would grab you and take you in any room that had a lock. “fuck that’s it, you’re doing so good for me baby.” “gonna have you cum three times before i gotta be out there in ten minutes. you like that?”

— 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐙 ⁵⁵

҉ HAIR PULLING KINK !

— the man has beautiful hair…how can he not have a hair pulling kink?

— carlos loved pulling your hair whether it was while you rode his cock or he was taking you from behind; he loved having his hands in your hair

— but it was when you pull his hair that really gets him going both intimately but whenever you’d be watching a movie or out with friends your hand would go to the nape of his neck and travel up to his hair giving it a soft tug

— between your legs carlos is eating you out both sloppily and hungrily, tongue against your aching core his fingers now at your entrance giving you extra pleasure when they’re stretching you out, “fuck. just like that carlos,” you tangle your fingers in his hair giving it a rough tug when he rubs his thumb on your clit

— every thrust his fingers would give your cunt and tongue giving your folds so much attention you’d tug his hair closer to your pussy if that was possible; “fuck, baby, do that again. harder.” “god, hermosa, gonna make me cum in my pants if you keep pulling my hair like that.” “right there, keep doing that princesa. wanna suffocate in your pussy.”

҉ DIRTY TALK !

— his native language being spanish played a role in his love for dirty talking he loved the reaction he’d get out of you when you’d hear him speaking to you in spanish

— morning, noon, night; carlos fucked you any moment he had some free time which was rare but on those occasions he did he make sure to speak his dirty thoughts of you: and to you

— “fuck, my good girl, chokin’ on my cock” “that’s it, hermosa. let them all hear whose fucking your tight pussy…the only man who makes you cum.” “te ves tan perfecta para mí de rodillas llena de mí. mi bella princesa.”

— 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐂 ¹⁶

҉ ORAL !

— charles loved having you on your knees mouth stuffed with his cock. your lips showing his tip some extra love with a few kisses after finishing in your mouth and you’d take him once again pulling him in your mouth again for another round.

— what he loved the most though? spending hours in between your thighs giving you multiple orgasms until you are begging him to stop (very rare to want him to stop)

҉ ROUGH SEX !

— despite seemingly carrying a calm demeanor around friends & family behind closed doors charles loved being rough with you in bed. especially after yet another week where ferrari fucks up his race he feels the best place to let out his stress and anger is on you. which you gladly took.

— rough and sloppy kisses you share entering his hotel room to his rough hands pushing you onto the bed and fucking you with his fingers until you’re squirting all over him and the bedsheets.

— your face pressed down on the mattress while he takes you from behind arching your back and yanking on your hair pulling you close to his chest he’d give you another rough thrush while whispering the most vulgar sentences to come out of his mouth.

— 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐒 ⁴

҉ COCKWARMING !

— sometimes being weeks apart from each other you wanted to feel as close as possible while catching up on what you’d miss. you’d get settled on his lap moaning at the feeling of him stretching you after being gone for so long. you’d get comfortable and you would both talk about what you had been up to the last few weeks

— streaming with max you’d make sure his camera was off before you climbed on his lap. he would be confused as to what you were doing but the moment you take his cock out of his briefs and sinking down on him he’d hold his moans in and grab your waist pulling you closer.

- turning his mic off he lets out a whine when you rock your hips against him, “fuck, baby, can’t do this right now i’m so close to winning.” you’d agree with him and tell him to finish the game you’ll just wait for him; still sitting on him with his cock deep inside you. safe to say he lost the game just to play again, enjoying the feeling of his cock resting inside you

҉ SHOWER SEX !

— lando loved it when he’d be showering and you’d join him halfway through giving him some extra attention that he desperately wanted. he loved the intimacy about it when you’d help rinse of the shampoo in his hair or how he’d glide the body gel all over your body

— you loved it when it was a post race win or podium and he’d drag you to the small bathroom in his drivers room and shove you against the shower wall giving your pussy some extra love while you pull on his hair before he would have his cock shoved deep in your aching cunt, getting some loud moans out of you which he’d cover up with a kiss

— 𝐋𝐄𝐖𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐎𝐍 ⁴⁴

҉ PHONE SEX !

— being a formula 1 driver was a demanding job which required lewis to travel almost all year long and you couldn’t always go along with him due to your job. you missed him all the time when he was gone but especially on the days when you were extra needy were the worst

— that’s why he’d stay on the phone with you all day despite his busy schedule. he’d have one airpod in while having to be in a meeting not listening to the less important subjects so he’d listen to you and what you were doing for the day

— but then on days where your vibrator wasn’t enough you’d call or facetime your boyfriend begging him to help you through your orgasm, it also helped that he had the most soothing voice that constantly brought you to tears when he’d have your face shoved on the mattress, ass pressed against him as he fucked you

— “oh…’m so close, lew” you’d whimper through the facetime call, your phone propped against your nightstand while you grind your aching cunt against a pillow. desperately needing more release your reach to rub your clit when lewis’ voice fills the phone, “i didn’t say you could do that, did i?” he questions, he was due to be in the media pen in 10 minutes but he wouldn’t let you take the easy way out to cum before he left

— “please, baby, need to cum please,” you beg lewis as your movements speed up. “don’t use your hand. keep fucking youself on my pillow, i’ll be home in a few days and take such good care of you. that’s it baby, be a good girl and cum for me.” his encouragement is more than enough to have you squeezing your breasts and nipples as your release spills all over the pillow

҉ MIRROR SEX !　

— you weren’t sure if it was you or lewis who decided adding a mirror to the ceiling of your bedroom was the best option for your sex life but either way you were two happy people

— you enjoyed watching lewis fucking you his eyes meeting your through the mirror; he loved having you bounce on his cock watching the way you threw your head back moans filling the room. he loved it so much he requested his drivers room to have a mirror on the ceiling as well. after many warnings not to they finally gave in and gave him what he (and you) wanted

— his hand around your throat with two fingers deep inside your pussy he’d whisper dirty thoughts into your ear, “you look so pretty for me like this. wanna see you cum for me, sweet girl. that’s it you’re squeezing my fingers so good,” you’d bite your lip trying to suppress your moans in the small room knowing anyone walking by could easily hear you

— 𝐎𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑 𝐏𝐈𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈 ⁸¹

҉ DRY HUMPING !　

— again, being a formula one driver was a demanding sport. a demanding sport that kept your sex life with oscar very low many, many, many times. so when you had the chance to feel a little bit closer to your boyfriend you took the chance.

— whether against the wall of his drivers room with your clothed pussy rubbing against his race suit or in bed on his lap before ha has to catch a flight to the next race; you were both absolutely infatuated with each other and dry humping

— drivers room; oscar would be leaned up against the wall while your hips grind against his thigh, “osc,” you whine as he moves your panties to the side rubbing your clit while you con the to fuck yourself on him, “shh, be a good girl for me and stay quiet. then after the race i’ll stuff you full of my cock all night.” his words have you biting down on his shoulder as you cum all over his thigh

҉ SQUIRTING !　

— he had discovered this one night while you both watched a movie, laying between his thighs your head pressed against his chest his hand trailed down to your shorts pulling them off with nothing else underneath he worked his fingers inside you. soon enough you had squirted all over his hand and bedsheets; a first for both of you

— that just started something inside oscar which was wanting to make you squirt any chance he got. you could be exhausted from work or a long flight but you’d let him have his way with you. at the end you’d be filling the room with sounds of pleasure as his fingers or cock fucked your tight cunt until he reached the exact spot that had you squirting all over him

— "so wet for me, and so fuckin' tight." "i can feel how close you are baby, gonna make a mess all over our sheets, hmm?" he praises you, his fingers curling deep inside you. his groans and your moans fill the room as you squirt all over his hand and sheets making a mess like he had said. pulling away from you he now plays between your thighs and smiles up at you, “time to clean this mess up.”

— 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐎 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 ⁴³

҉ DIRTY TALK !　

— you’ve seen franco in interviews he was a talker so it wasn’t a surprised he was a talker behind closed doors as well. he had a filthy mouth on him when it came to you and he never stopped praising you

— “eso es amor, apretándome tan bien. let me hear your pretty moans.” “cum all over my cock, amor. fuck, fuck—look so perfect for me.” “gonna let me fuck you against the door? gonna make sir everyone hears what a filthy whore you are.” you’d think by now you’d get tired of his constant yapping (sometimes you did) but when he fucked you? you loved hearing his voice the entire time

҉ ORAL !　

— the man was good with his tongue what more could you say? he was infatuated with having his tongue on your pussy for hours on end tasting how sweet you were. buried between your thighs as your hand stung on his hair, whines and moans escape your mouth begging him for more

— “franco, ‘m so close, right there,” you gasp feeling his tongue poking in your cunt as he devours you, “es todo princesa, déjalo ir por mí. mierda. sabes tan dulce.” you cum and he doesn’t let a drop escape his tongue as he licks you clean

— 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐎 ³ [retired]

҉ THIGH RIDING !　

— the man had a tattooed thigh…how could you not want to ride it? it first started on a night out with friends enjoying the sunset at the beach when daniel placed you on his lap your hand traced circles on the tattoos that littered his thigh; one thing led to another and you snuck off to the car and he let your imaginations come to life

— at a club filled with loud music and dark lights you’d take advantage of the moment and grind yourself on his thigh enjoying the feeling, at home while he works on sending out some emails you’d keep him company with your core pressing against his thigh, anyplace and anywhere you were a menace for his thighs

— he loved it too, so much he’d started adding some more tattoos to his collection on his thighs which made you even more excited to ride him only to wait until he was healed to do so. you could ride his other thigh but something about fucking yourself on his tattooed thigh felt so so much more enthralling

— “you look so pretty like this, ridin' my thigh...makin' yourself cum.” “make yourself cum on my thigh right now, good girl. feels good, doesn't it?” his encouraging words bringing you to your third orgasm of the night just form riding his thigh, “come on, honey, gonna give me one more then i’ll fuck you for however long you want”

҉ FILMING !

— daniel loved having videos or pictures of the activities you got up to in the bedroom with each other. he loved watching the videos while he was away from you weeks on end. however, he loved it more whenever you got the chance to film each other especially for fun not because he’ll be gone for a few weeks and needed someone to fill the void

— daniel comfortably laying down between your thighs lapping at you like there’s no tomorrow, “danny, feel so good…oh,” you whine trying to hold the camera that was pointed at him steadily but you were so close. “that’s it baby, cum all over me you taste so fucking sweet. could never get enough of this,” he says only getting a second to breathe before he’s diving back between your thighs to bring you to your second orgasm of the night

— you loved the risk of having an album on your phones that were filled of videos and pictures of the two of you or sometimes of just one of you. you’d created a small album curated for daniel filled of pictures of you in lingerie or fully nude; the videos were another story. filled with you fucking yourself with your fingers, vibrator, a pillow; you made sure daniel was fulfilled for the weeks he wouldn’t have you

— daniel made a small photo album for you as well more so filled of the two of you, he knew how much you loved rewatching the videos of you two fucking. you loved the way he propped the camera against the nightstand and had you riding his cock until you begged him to let you cum or the time he fucked you in his drivers room facing the mirror on his door his hands on your breasts squeezing them while you rode him back against his chest holding onto the camera shakily and almost dropping it when he’d thrust up into your cunt

[parkersbliss]

you lock the 141 outside your house (I know my rights tiktok)

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x american!female reader 

synopsis: you lock them out of your (their?) house, claiming you "know your rights." based on a tiktok trend with soldiers.

warnings: none just fluff and humor :)))

a/n: I wrote this in like an hour and I think it's the funniest thing EVER thanks

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for tf141!

SEE TIKTOK HERE

—

Ghost: 

You watch as your boyfriend gets out of his truck in the driveway. He grabs his bag from the passenger seat and makes his way to the front door, a smile twitching under his mask at the sight of you waiting for him. 

Just as he steps to the porch, you close the door and lock it. “I know my third amendment rights!”

Ghost stops at the door, dropping his bag. Rights? What were you talking about? “Your what?” 

“No Soldier shall, in time of peace, be quartered in any house without the consent of the owner,” You reply, reading off your phone. 

Ghost sighs. Third amendment? Of course, the one American he dates is the one that has them all memorized. You could probably recite them in your sleep. Patriotism, or whatever. Which makes zero sense. You were living with him in Manchester. If all went well and you got married, he was making sure he changed your status to British. 

“You fucking Americans.” He grabs the key from his bag, going to unlock the door only to find you locking it. “Are you serious?”

You show your phone at him through the glass, the third amendment displayed on a Google search. He stares back at you from his mask, unamused. “Bloody hell, woman,” he mutters. 

You giggle from behind the door and give him a few more minutes before going to unlock it. You knew Simon’s limits. You only needed a few seconds of fun anyway, but by the time you unlock it, he’s gone. 

“Simon?” You call out, poking your head out the door and checking around the house. His truck was still there, so he didn’t turn back around. You don’t see any movements or even hear anything. Was he picked up by aliens? 

A thud sounds from behind you, and you yelp, shutting the door and turning around. 

Simon stands in front of you, arms crossed and his duffel bag on the floor.

“What the hell?” You said, looking him up and down. 

“I should be asking you that,” He retorts. “You should really lock your windows, love.” 

“Are you… did you climb through one?” 

“You locked me out.” 

“I went to unlock it!” 

“Third amendment rights, my arse.” He grabs your waist, pulling you towards him. “We’re in England.” 

You shrug, tracing up his arm. “Thought it was funny.” 

Simon just sighs. “Americans.” 

Gaz: 

“Oh, hell no!” You exclaim as Gaz approaches the door. “I know my third amendment rights.” The lock clicks. 

“No fucking way,” Gaz said, strolling up to the glass storm door. 

“No soldiers in this home.” 

He stares at you, his hands on his hips and that signature scowl on his face. There was no way he was coming home to this bullshit right now. “Open the door.” 

“No quartering soldiers without my permission,” You replied. 

Gaz rolls his eyes. Your home? He was pretty sure his name was on the mortgage, even if you were living in it 90% of the time. “I own the fucking property! I live here. You’re the guest.” 

You shrug, grinning. “Not anymore.” 

He runs a hand down his face. Sometimes just sometimes he regrets finding your stubbornness so damn attractive.  “I’m going to crash out, actually.” 

“Crash outside? Yeah.”

“Let me in!” He shouts, grabbing the door handle and jiggling it. 

“No!” You shout back, holding onto it and preventing him from entering without your permission. 

Gaz leans against the glass. “Remind me why I chose to date an American?” 

You smile at him. “Because we’re funny, and we have better Chinese food.” 

He glares at you, trying to unlock the door again. He groans when there’s no avail. “Babe!” 

You say nothing, finding his annoyance quite amusing and a change of pace for once. 

And then he actually crashes out, grabbing the handle and pulling, twisting, pounding at it. He yells a string of curse words and then starts banging on the doorframe. He gives up, frowning, and leans his forehead on the glass. “Please?” 

You unlock it. “Thought you’d never ask.” 

He storms inside, throwing you over his shoulder. “You are so in for it.” 

“I like where this is going,” You giggle as he throws you on the couch. 

He raises a brow, hands coming to your waist. “Yeah?” He starts tickling you. You yelp, laughing under him and trying to push away. 

Gaz doesn’t relent and continues tickling you even after you’ve pleaded with him to stop. “You lock me out of my fucking claim it’s your right,” He mutters. “Consider this my very reasonable punishment.” 

Soap: 

“I know my rights!” You shout, watching Soap approach the door. 

He stops in his tracks, tilting his head. He had no idea what you said. The poor guy could barely hear from all the bombs going on around him, and you shout through a door? Good plan.  “What are you on about?” He asked. 

“There will be no soldiers in my home!” You close the glass door and lock it. 

He approaches the front door, staring at you through the glass. His expression is clueless, brows furrowed. “You mean our home?” He knocks on the glass. “Can I come in?” 

“Nope!” 

He frowns. “Why?” 

“Third amendment.” 

“Amendment?” He scoffs. What the hell are you talking about? Is this what he gets for dating an American? You start proclaiming your rights? What’s next, the pledge of allegiance? “Are you taking the piss? Does this look like the land of the free?” 

You giggle at him, his accent thickening with his frustration. “I’m still an American!” 

“Trust me, I know! Can I please come inside?” 

“No soldiers allowed.” You tape up a piece of paper displaying those words. 

Soap continues frowning at you and realizes he isn’t going to be let in anytime soon. It’s a good thing he knew how to easily change that. Americans and their rights. More like Americans and their feelings. He sits down on the porch steps, facing away from you, rests his chin in his hand, and sighs loudly. 

You don’t budge. 

He sighs again, kicking his boots on the porch, turning back at you with sad eyes. Still nothing. He concludes there was one last option to get you to let him in. He grabs his phone, and you watch with furrowed brows as he types something in. Suddenly, music is blasting from his phone as he looks at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes ever. Not just any music, but the sad hamster violin music. 

“Oh my god.” You unlock the door, opening it up to him. “You’re such a baby.” 

He practically skips inside, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Your baby.”

Price: 

Your husband stands on the porch, rolling his eyes at you.

“I know my rights!” You shout at him through the window. 

“Do you, now?” He asked, playing along with your prank or whatever this was. If it brought you this much amusement to lock him out, he might as well indulge in it. That was the kind of man he was. Until he started freezing of course, then he would demand you let him in. 

You nod your head. “As an American, amendment 3 of the Bill of Rights says that I don’t have to house you if I don’t want to.” 

Price hums. At least they taught you something in American schools. “Does that extend when you’re in another country?” 

“It does to me.” 

He huffs, grabbing something from his pocket and displaying it to you. “You know I have a house key, yes?”

“I’ll just lock it again.” 

He tilts his head at you. You were really trying to sell whatever rights you thought you had. “Really?” 

“I’m taking this very seriously.” 

Price strokes his beard. “I can see that.” An idea pops into his head, and he steps away from the glass and in front of the door. You didn’t want to let him in? That’s fine. You wanted to lock the door? No problem. He’s got methods of entering from being in the military, after all. “Guess I’ll just have to kick down the door.” He raises his foot, fully intent on doing it. You were going to repaint the door anyway, might as well get a new one. 

You swing open the door. “Are you crazy?” 

He strolls past you. “Did I lock you outside our home? Besides, crazy would’ve been bombing the house.” 

Your lips parted, unsure if he was joking. You assume he is, but his expression says otherwise. “Are you being serious?” 

He laughs at your face, grabbing your hand. “Only if you start proclaiming your rights again.”

You put your hands up. “What rights? Suddenly, I’m feeling like this soldier can stay as long as he likes.” 

Price presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “Thought so.” 

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Miss ma’am, hi hello how are you?

I am presenting myself here, very very humbly to ask if we could please get another part of your Nerd Nanami fic?🥹🥹 please please puhleaseeeeeeeee

That was an actual masterpiece, I had to read it very slowly and savour it, making sure to process every single sentence of that fic. You’re so talented it makes me cry

Please offer us more Nanami, pleaseeeeeee

Giving the nerd a chance… part two

Tags: nerd!Nanami x fem!Reader, college au, smut with plot, nsfw, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, size kink, breeding kink, dom!nanami, sub!reader, marathon sex, exhibitionism if you squint real hard, mdni

Synopsis: Your nerdy boyfriend is so prim and proper in real life, but he has big dick energy over text.

An: 4K Follower Special! I got over 20 requests for a part two of this fic. At this time, it is my best performing fic on tumblr, and I fear… I may have peaked with it. I never EVER intended on writing a second part because I was sure that I couldn’t ever follow that fic up with something as good, but this sweet anon request warmed my heart so much that I decided to give the people what they’re asking for. This one’s going to be a long one… pace yourself because there will NOT be a third part… right?

Nanami’s a stoic lover. He doesn’t keep you hidden, but he doesn’t outwardly drag attention towards your relationship. Too much attention meant drama, and Nanami hates drama.

Nanami asked you to be his girlfriend a few weeks after the first time you two slept together. Of course, everyone in his friend group saw it coming long before you two had even hooked up.

They saw the longing gazes between you two when you pined for each other. They saw the cheeky glances once you two finally started texting. They noticed how their dear friend smiled more — was more laid back and relaxed.

Everyone welcomed you into their small found family with open arms. They simply couldn’t have picked anyone better to balance out Nanami’s far too strict nature.

Things with Nanami were absolutely a dream. You two had great chemistry emotionally and physically. Of course, he just made things so easy for you.

While he is a stoic lover, you never ever feel unloved by him. He’s always there to reassure you with words of affirmation or small touches that just remind you that he’s there.

Like when you two are at one of Satoru’s “exclusive” gatherings, if you’re not in Nanami’s lap, then he’s got his hand on you somewhere. Sometimes he gets so bored during those little get togethers that he spends his time leisurely pressing kisses into your cheek and neck. He never quite understood Satoru’s and Suguru’s affinity with public displays of affection until he met you.

Or there's those times when you need a little extra help with your studies. Kento is right behind you, with you on his lap, his cock is snuggly being squeezed by your warm leaking cunt. He presses small chaste kisses against your temple and ear while you try your hardest to focus on the homework.

"Do you remember this one, sweetheart? We went over it in class yesterday... Aw, don't go all stupid on me now."

When you get an answer right, he'll reward you with small, shallow thrusts, but you have to finish the whole assignment to get him to really fuck you.

Or if you two are walking together in the halls, Nanami holds his arm out for you, letting you latch onto him so he can guide you two through the crowd of people. He knows how you are in crowded areas, so he's keen on not letting anyone get too close to you.

Nanami’s a true gentleman too. His parents made sure they raised nothing less than a perfect man. You’ve never had to touch a door handle, any of your own money, or bags when you two go shopping. Nanami handles all of that for you. He doesn’t let you walk on the outside when you two are on the sidewalk. He’s respectful of you and your time, and he always listens to everything you have to say with his full attention because you deserve nothing less.

Nanami’s parents truly did their best work with him, and speaking of his parents, Nanami’s the type that wants to take you back home to meet them.

It was nearly fall break as you were sitting in your experimental research class — your final class before you’re free from the hell hole of academics for a full week.

You glance down at your phone as it buzzes in your lap. You and Nanami had been planning a trip out to his family’s home in Hakone for a little bit now, and the closer that time gets to you two leaving, the more stressed out Nanami feels.

Nanami: We’ll probably leave out early tomorrow morning and catch the first train. Will you be okay with that?

Yn: Mhm. That sounds fine, Ken.

Nanami: After class, I need to inform you a little bit more about my parents… I just don’t want you to feel shocked or surprised when you meet them.

Yn: I’m not sure why I’d be shocked or surprised, but I’m excited to hear more.

Nanami: Don’t get too excited.

You stare at his message for a bit, pondering what he could’ve meant by that. He hadn’t ever spoke poorly of his parents, but he didn’t necessarily praise them either. Actually… he never spoke of them.

*** *** ***

For the rest of the class, you wondered just what you were getting yourself into by going and meeting them. Maybe you two were moving too fast or..

“Sweetheart.” His steady voice broke your trance. He’s crouched down next to your desk to be eye-level with you, and the palms of his hand is gently caressing your cheek. “There you are. Spaced out on me.”

The entire classroom is empty. Class must’ve ended a minute ago because not even the professor is in the room now. You must’ve been deep in your own head.

You let force out an awkward laugh before nuzzling your cheek further into his palm, seeking out his affections as comfort from the insecure thoughts that somehow always manage to find a way in.

“I was just.. thinkin’ about your parents is all..” You finally give him some sort of explanation, and Nanami softens a bit.

“It’s just a weekend, my love. Then, I’ll make it up to you.” His words are a promise. You know for a fact Nanami doesn’t say things that he doesn’t mean.

“I think that was the part where you were supposed to reassure me that they’ll like me-“

Nanami pulls you forward and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll still love you regardless.”

Gods, his words are so sweet, but they cut deep like daggers.

“They’re… not going to like me..?” You mumble in a tone that makes Nanami’s heart sink. He takes your hands into his as he gets on his knee to better talk to you while you’re seated.

“My parents are… very traditional.” He carefully explains, and his hazel eyes search yours for a reaction before he reluctantly continues. “They want me to marry a girl from a specific family-“

“An arranged marriage!?” You blurt out — unable to control your emotions as it feels like your heart is trying to force its way up your throat.

“Something like that - but not exactly. It’s not arranged, but it’s definitely heavily pushed.” He tries to keep his tone steady, but seeing you so upset like this has him feeling raw with emotion as well.

“So, no, they will not be happy to know that I’m going against their wishes, but they’ll come around eventually.” His eyes focus on yours, and he gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“… and if they don’t?” A small sniffle escapes you before you can stop it. The thought of Nanami being with anyone else has your head spinning. There’s another girl out there who might be expecting for him to take her hand in marriage.

“Hey... look at me.” He coaxes softly as his hand guides your face to look him in the eyes. “I couldn’t give less of a fuck. I’m doing this as a courtesy for them — not because I need their approval.”

Chills shoot up your spine from his words. Nanami rarely cusses, but when he does, it’s enough to even make Satoru blush when he hears it.

Your worry instantly flees your body when Nanami’s lips press against yours to seal the deal. This was just a visit to his parents. Nothing more. Nothing less.

“I’m still gonna love you…” He mumbles his words against your lips before seeking out more of your honeyed kisses. “…still gonna marry you one day…” His deep voice groans a little as he gently suckles on your bottom lip. “…still gonna fuck you senseless every night.”

“Ken..” A breathy whine; a whimper; a plea.

“Because you need it every night, don’t you?” His lips are still chasing yours with an insatiable hunger. It just wasn’t enough. If the next class wasn’t coming in the next 10 minutes, he’d take you right here on your desk, but he doesn’t fancy the idea of anyone else’s eyes accidentally falling upon your ethereal body.

“Mhm… need it.” You murmur against his lips quietly in agreement.

Nanami suddenly pulls away, and he reaches out, wrapping his hand around your wrist. “Come on before I fuck you right here.” He threatens and picks your bag up off the floor for you.

*** *** ***

A gasp flees you as Nanami pushes your back against his bed. His lips are immediately assaulting your neck: suckling soft red marks into your skin and nipping at you gently.

He loves to see the aftermath of his love on you, but he has to be careful this time. Can’t have you going to meet his parents with hickeys all over your neck, can you?

“Mmm~ What about Haibara?” You ask now before you find yourself too hypnotized by his affections.

“He has a class right now.” Nanami answers before his hand trails up your thighs towards your already damp panties. He has had this on his mind all day since he saw you in that cute little skirt you’re wearing.

“Already so wet.” He groans into your neck before biting at your shoulder. The pads of his fingers tease your sensitive clit through the cloth of your cotton panties. “Fuck. You’re so good to me.”

Nanami drops to his knees on the edge of the bed, and his strong arms pull you by your legs to where you’re situated at the edge for him to eat you out to his heart’s desire.

He doesn’t even remove your panties before he leans in and presses a sloppy kiss to your cunt. He can already taste you through the fabric, and he needs more.

His fingers hook in the waistband of your panties, and he tugs them down your legs, carefully placing them on his bedside table. If he can swing it, he’ll definitely hide them from you and claim that you lose them — just so he can keep them for when you’re not around.

He’s not a pervert!! Well… he loves jerking off into his girlfriend’s panties when he’s too needy at night… Feeling the wet fabric that was pressed so unceremoniously against your heavenly cunt is more than enough to get him off quickly. It would be ungentlemanly to wake you up at your dorm for such a scandalous adventure. At least he washes and returns them to you promptly after using them a couple of times.

As soon as your panties are safely discarded, Nanami has his face right back between your legs. He uses his hands to prop your legs up on his shoulder, and he just.. absolutely begins to devour you.

“Ngh.. oh fuck— wait Ken.. I wan..” You can barely get your words out right while his tongue is lapping at your slippery folds.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to interrupt someone during a meal?” His hazel eyes look up at you with such a serious look — you feel like you’re being scolded.

Your face flushes a bright red before you relax back into his bed — accepting your fate. Kento smiles to himself, knowing that it doesn’t take much to pacify you. You’re too much of a good girl for him.

“Mmm~ that’s right. Just lay back and take what I give you, pretty girl.” He hums in satisfaction as his tongue connects with your cunt once more.

He licks up all the sticky wetness that you so graciously leak for him. He’s so messy with it, practically french kissing with your cunt. Your juices are smeared across his chin from him hopelessly lapping at you. His tongue writes love letters to you against your clit, making your body shiver with pleasure and excitement.

One of your hands is clasping at the sheets, and the other hand is entangled in Kento’s blonde hair, giving him small tugs as he gives you the best head of your life.

Your thighs unconsciously press together, trying to run from the weird sensations that his mouth gives to you. Your boyfriend grunts in dissatisfaction — not enjoying the sudden disobedience from you.

His hand press against each of your knees, and he forces your legs back open — spreading you wiiiide open for him.

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” He asks while looking up at you through his lashes.

“Please — please~” You whine. Your hips involuntarily buck up, trying to get any sort of friction.

“Then be good, and sit still.” Nanami orders, and his hand ever so carefully swats at your sensitive cunt — sending shockwaves of electrifying pleasure through your nerve endings.

“‘m sorry.. ‘m sorry.. please.” You’re so whiny and desperate to be stretching by him. It’s honestly so pathetic that he pities you.

“My poor sweet girl.” He chuckles lowly before pressing a more gentle kiss against your clit. His tongue carefully dips into your wet heat. “Tastes too sweet for your own good. How am I supposed to stop enjoying you, huh?”

A glob of spit rolls down your cunt from Nanami’s mouth, and he uses his own two fingers to spread it around, softly toying with your glistening pussy. A smirk curls on his lips as he watches the way your entrance flutters — so enticed by the potential of being filled by him.

You quietly stifle a squeal as he stuffs you with two of his thick fingers. “So reactive, baby.” He murmurs as his tongue darts back out to gently lap and flick at your clit.

“Ken.. fuck, fuck-! Mmmph..” Your hips start to roll against his fingers, trying to force them inside you. Your boyfriend obliges your silent request, and he pushes his fingers in deeper, curling upwards to that spot he knows will make you cry out his name…

“Nanami-!” There it is. His fingers begin to roughly pump in and out, abusing your sensitive g-spot over and over again.

“Better be a good girl and tell me you love me.” He mutters lowly into your cunt. He knows he doesn’t have to tell you anymore — you’re already conditioned to tell him you love him when you cum. Even if he’s not the one making you finish, you’ll text him a quick “I love you” as you clench around your own fingers to the thought of him.

Your hips roll harder, and your moans are way more throaty — interrupted by small gasps for air. He can tell that you’re getting close. His mouth gently begins to suckle on the small bundle of nerves, and he focuses his tongue on swirling circles around your clit.

It’s all so much. It feels like Nanami is literally playing you like an instrument. He knows exactly what to do to make you a whiny trembling mess.

His fat fingers are pummeling into you, slamming into your sweet spot — making overstimulated tears well up in your eyes. “Sh-shit.. gonna cum.. Nanami… ah~ more..” You’re babbling utter nonsense while trying to find your orgasm.

Your stomach starts to clench, and it almost feels uncomfortable. Your breath stutters as Nanami murmurs into your pussy. “Let go for me, darling. Let it alllll out.” He encourages you as if his fingers and tongue aren’t absolutely tag teaming you.

“Ah~ Mmph… I.. fuck- I love you-!” You moan as you finally feel your orgasm suddenly break. Your tight walls clench around Nanami’s fingers, and fluids from your arousal gush out, making a big mess on his face and clothes.

Nanami quietly chuckles as he comes to realization that you just squirted on him. “Oh? That’s how you feel, huh?” He mocks playfully before pressing one last french kiss against your cunt. “I love you more darling.”

For a moment, you don’t know if it’s more directed towards you or your pussy.

*** *** ***

The early morning train ride was spent with your head cozied into Nanami’s shoulder as he had a protective arm around you. The scenery outside was beautiful. Hakone is known for their breathtaking sights of Mount Fiji. Too bad your eyelids were so heavy from getting up so early.

Nanami takes the silence as a time to reflect. He truly can’t remember a time when he was nervous like this. It was as if that emotion left him when he was a teenage boy. His family’s harsh regime for raising him left no room for shy or nervous behavior. Men were strong, confident, sophisticated. They exuded chivalry in everything they do.

Honestly, he’s glad that he was raised the way he was. Every time he bears witness to Gojo’s crude behavior, he can only think of how happy he is to have had a strict childhood.

But right now, he wishes he wasn’t so nervous. His heart is pounding in his chest, and he’s silently praying that you can’t hear it. Even though he didn’t care what his parents thought of you, he didn’t fancy the idea of seeing you torn down by his parents. Hopefully, they’ll have enough class to take up the issues with him — not you.

*** *** ***

Nanami’s parent’s house had a very traditional vibe to it, and it was easily twice as big as the house you grew up in. It was beautifully decorated, and the lawn was obviously meticulously cared for. It makes sense that Nanami grew up here.

“Just one weekend. Then, we’ll be back to normal.” Nanami murmurs softly into your ear. Though, he doesn’t know if he’s reassuring you or himself at this point. He takes a deep breath before knocking on the door with a heavy fist.

“Oh, Kennn.” His mother immediately ran up to Nanami and gave him a big hug after answering the door, which he returned back to her.

“It’s good to see you, mom.” He responds heartily before he holds out his hand to his dad.

“Look at you. Our son has grown up on us.” His dad gives a sweet smile while gently nudging his mom with his elbow.

“Don’t remind me!” His mom practically wails with her arms still wrapped around Nanami, and you’re awkwardly on standby.

Nanami finally puts his hands on his mom’s shoulders, and he forces her to take a step back. “It hasn’t even been that long since you two saw me, and besides, I brought someone for you two to meet.”

His arm carefully wraps back around your waist, and he looks at his parents before collecting himself briefly. “This is my girlfriend, Yn. Yn, these are my parents.”

His mom’s smile falters almost unnoticeably, but you immediately pick up on her dissatisfaction. His dad seems to just he surprised.

“Ah, yes, welcome to our home, yn.” His dad finally says with an earnest smile, and he subtly nudges his wife. It’s definitely a silent reminder for her to stop looking at you like you’re an intruder.

“Your home is lovely, Mr. and Mrs. Nanami. It’s nice to meet you two.” You try your best to not sound nervous at all, but his mom’s face just makes your stomach turn.

His parents guide you through their home, but they mostly focus their attention on Nanami: asking him about his studies, asking how Gojo’s doing, and asking if he’s contacted some girl named… Allegra. You couldn’t help but wonder if that was the girl who they wanted him to marry instead.

They didn’t ask you very many questions. His dad was friendly, but it seemed like he was tip toeing around all the awkward tension. His mom was just flat out ignoring your presence — clearly in denial about her son having a girlfriend who wasn’t this mysterious Allegra girl.

When it came time for dinner, his dad finally broke the awkward tension and asked about you.

“So yn, you go to the same college as Kento?” His dad seems to be genuinely sweet — just more on the passive shy side.

“Yeah, Ken and I actually share quite a few classes together.” You smile as your utensil grazes along the food they prepared. It smells delicious, but your nerves will barely allow you to nibble on it.

“What are you studying?”

“Oh, I’m in general studies for now. I’m still deciding on what to major in.” You reply as you finally feel yourself beginning to relax in your chair.

“Did you tell your friend that Allegra is studying to become a doctor? Wouldn’t that be nice to have in the family?” His mom finally speaks up, only addressing Nanami and not you.

Your stomach sinks as you realize why Nanami was so apologetic and reassuring this entire time. He knew his mom was just going to take subtle digs at you the entire time.

“One, she’s my girlfriend — not friend. Two, no, I have no reason to speak about Allegra with my girlfriend.” Nanami responds, and he gives his mom a subtle look. It appears they have a brief challenging moment before his mom looks away and relents.

Nanami’s foot gently nudges yours underneath the table, and you try to give him a small smile in response. It’s just hard when clearly you’re not wanted in this household.

The dinner goes silent for a moment, and the dining area fills with the sounds of chopsticks gently touching against plates. You subtly check your phone for an escape.

Nanami: Don’t pay her any mind, okay?

Nanami: I promise I’ll make up for this tonight. I’ll kiss you for every rude thing she says.

Yn: and for every time she says Allegra?

Nanami: I’ll fuck you until you can’t remember her name… make you so dumb until you can only remember my name. That’s all you need to know anyways.

Yeah, that’ll do it. The negative emotions are gone — replaced by a feral need for his cock. You take a subtle breath before putting your phone away, not wanting anyone to accidentally see him dirty talking you right in front of his parents.

“Ah, do you think you can help me out with the car tomorrow, Kento? Your old man is getting too old and worn out to crawl underneath there.” His dad finally breaks the silence once more.

“Of course, dad. What are you needing done on it? I’ll probably wake up early and get it done before day breaks.” Your boyfriend is such a good son. It’s no wonder that his mom is stupid protective over him.

“I just need to breaks changed on it. It’s probably due for an oil change too.” His dad explains, and Nanami assures him that he’ll get it done.

“I didn’t know you knew much about cars.” You take the chance of speaking up, and Nanami’s hazel eyes meet yours. His face instantly softens, and his mouth opens to speak. Too bad his mom beats him too it.

“Of course, he does. He needs to know all sorts of things like that in case his future wife needs her car repaired.” His mom says with a hint of hostility in her tone. “Speaking of which, Allegra just bought a new car a few months ago.”

You sit in silence for a moment, and you feel your stomach twisting in discomfort. You don’t know why you care so much for this woman’s opinion of you. Nanami already warned you that they likely wouldn’t approve of you, but you didn’t know you signed up to practically be bullied all weekend.

“I know a few basic things about cars. Nothing major.” Nanami responds to you — ignoring his mother’s comments. “I can show you too if you’re interested.”

A small smile curls on your lips, and you swallow back your emotions— trying to stay strong for him. “That’d be nice.”

“You definitely have a….”

“Mom.” Nanami immediately warns, staring down his mother before she can even finish her sentence.

“What? I wasn’t going to say anything mean.” She’s immediately on the defensive, casually laughing as if she’s been nothing but friendly this entire time. “I was just going to say that your friend certainly has a bold personality… wearing red to meet someone’s parents is definitely… a choice.”

Your eyes look down at the nice blouse you’re wearing, and you swallow harshly. Nanami was actually the one to pick it out for you. He reassured you this morning that you looked gorgeous — unknowingly signing you up to be bullied.

Your face is burning hot with embarrassment, and you wish you could just fold in on yourself and die right on the spot.

“Don’t talk about my girlfriend like that.” Nanami frowns, and he puts his chopsticks down on his plate. “I’m serious. Being a bully at your age is unbecoming to you as a mother.”

“Kento.” His dad warns, but Nanami doesn’t relent for a second.

“No. I’m not going to sit here and allow her to continue disrespecting my girlfriend like that.” Your boyfriend retorts, and he switches back to glaring at his mother. “I’m not dating Allegra — nor do I want to. I’m doing you a favor by introducing you to yn. I figured you’d like to know your future daughter in law.” He gestures to you,

The color leaves his mom’s face as she stares back at her son — as if him implying that he is going to marry you is the worst news she’s ever heard. Her eyes cut over towards you in a vicious glare. “How long have you even known my son?”

Your heart is beating straight through your chest. Confrontation isn’t your strong suit, and to be honest, his mother was terrifying even though she’s literally shorter than you are.

“W-well, we met in college so…” You inwardly curse for stumbling over your words, and Nanami frowns as he looks at you. He hates that his parents are making you so unsure of yourself and your role in his life. He wants to take all your insecurities away and make you forget this ever even happened.

“It’s not even been that long! You don’t even have history with this girl. Allegra was your first kiss.. your first everything!” His mother raises her voice at Nanami, making exasperating hand motions.

His first everything? He told you that you were his first.

Tears prick into your eyes before you can even think to stop him. Overwhelmed by shame and just utter defeat, you don’t even know what to do other than to hide and cry.

Nanami’s eyes widen as he sees you clearly trying to cover up the tears streaming down your cheeks. His jaw tightens as he returns his gaze to his mother.

“That’s funny. I don’t recall you ever being present for any of those things.” His mom starts to speak up, but he is quick to shut her back down. “I kissed Allegra because you were breathing down my neck to. I was barely 15 at that time, and it happened once. That was the first and only time I ever even touched her.”

His mom starts to try to speak up again to probably bring up some other point about why he should be with Allegra. Nanami interrupts her again.

“Allegra and I do not like each other. We hardly tolerated each other for yours and her parents’ sake. You have to get over it. I’m with yn, and I’m happy — happier than I’ve ever been. She was my first everything. My first real kiss, my first girlfriend, and since you seem to want to stick your nose so far in my business, she was my first in bed too.”

“Kento, you’re being incredibly disrespectful.” Her voice is much more strict now as she scolds her grown son.

“I wonder where I get it from. It seems as though we both have a propensity for being rude.” He retorts, and while he’s arguing, his hand slides over to your inner thigh under the table, and he gropes it harshly.

He’s so pissed. He doesn’t even know how to get rid of this anger. His hand squeezes your thigh tightly, making your face go bright red as you look away from everyone.

“I’m not accepting her into this family. You can forget that. She’s changed you.” His mother’s words are growing harsher, and his dad is trying to quietly calm her. She doesn’t pay him any mind though.

“Fine. We’ll just go make our own family.” Nanami scoots his chair back, and he stands up. His hand roughly pulls you up as well — not giving you a chance to even think about what he just said. He bends down and effortlessly throw you over his shoulder, making you gape in surprise. His arm securing you by wrapping around the back of your thighs. “And by the way, I chose the red blouse. It matches the cute bra she’s wearing that I also chose for her.”

His parents stare at him — both completely dumbfounded by what just happened. They didn’t raise him to be like that, but what were they going to do?? Stop him? That’s a laughable thought. You’re not even sure God himself could pull Ken off of you when he’s feral like this.

His footsteps are heavy as he stomps up the stairs towards his teenage bedroom. Nothing has changed since he was last in here. It’s still completely sterile from how he was made to clean it each day. The walls are littered with posters of various science related things, and he has some posters of older video games he use to enjoy.

Your body is practically flung onto the bed, and Nanami doesn’t waste a single second. His heart is pounding in his chest. His mind is fogged with pure anger. He hasn’t felt like this in so long. It reminds him of why he took up going to the gym.

With no punching bag in sight, you’re his only outlet.

His body is unwavering on top of yours — a force to be reckoned with, and his mouth immediately connects with yours in a suffocating kiss. Quiet hums and moans fill the air between you two, and he quite literally steals the breath from your lungs. His fingers wrap around your wrists easily, pinning them above your head on the bed.

No longer satiated from robbing you of your breath, Nanami trails his kisses down to your neck. To hell with not marking you — he needs to see his brand on your neck. You’re his, aren’t you? Who cares if his parents see?

“Ah~” You let out a breathy whimper as he angrily sucks and bites on your neck. Your skin is sensitive - already turning bright shades of blue and purple from his mouth. His dental imprint litters your neck and shoulders.

“K-Ken.. what about..?” You start to ask about his parents. They’re going to hear you two. Wouldn’t that just make things worse?

“Don’t care.” He responds so brashly. If he thinks about his parent’s behavior any longer, he’s going to need to fuck you into next week to get all his anger out.

Riiiip!

Your eyes widen as you look up at your boyfriend’s hulking figure. The blouse that you were just criticized for was now more like a coat, split down the middle, revealing your perfect breasts, so prettily on display in your red lacy bra.

His mouth waters as he looks you up and down. You have almost this panicked look in your eye, provoked by his unpredictability, and for whatever reason, it’s driving him insane.

His mouth is back on you like it never left: kissing and biting on your mounds, painting them so beautifully with his mark. “You’re mine.” He grunts lowly. His jealousy almost makes it sound like his parents were insinuating that you should marry someone else.

“Say it.” He demands before his teeth graze over your collarbone. His warm breath fans over your skin, making you shiver.

“Yours.” You comply with such a small whimper, and your body jolts when you feel his raging bulge rub against you.

“See what you do to me?” He rumbles lowly as he looks down to where he’s now shamelessly dry humping you through clothes like he’s a horny teenager.

“Fuck… Ken..” You whisper as you’re also mesmerized by the sight. His slacks are completely taught, outlining the shape of his cock so well. You can almost see the veins that protrude on him.

His hips rolls slowly against yours, savoring the way the fabric rubs against him and you. His dick is painfully throbbing — begging for the reprieve of being squeezed by your gummy walls.

“Are you as much of a mess as I am, baby?” He asks as his hand dips into your pants. His eyebrows furrow, and he lets out a low groan as his fingers are instantly coated in your slick. He slips his hand back out of your pants just to slide his fingers into his mouth. He holds eye contact with you as he hums in satisfaction. He'll never get enough of your taste.

“You want this, don’t you? Want me to fuck you where my parents can hear you?” He slides his hand back down into your pants, and his fingers rub tight, firm circles against your clit, making your body squirm from pleasure.

“Nngh~ ah!” You’re already so noisy, and he hasn’t even began fucking you yet.

“Give ‘em a show, baby. Let them hear how good I make you feel.”

“Mmm~ Ken…” You moan as your back arches up off the bed. His fingers press down harder on your swollen clit.

“You can do better than that, darling.” He can be so condescending in bed, using that insatiable need for praise against you.

“Ken!” You shout, all logical thought has abandoned you. He tells you to do better? You do better.

“Good girl.” He purrs before sliding his hand out of your pants. He can’t get your clothes off of you quick enough. His cock is beckoning for attention, still neglected from yesterday of just eating you out.

Your hands shakily try to unbutton his shirt, and he chuckles lowly at your pitiful efforts. “Aw, my poor girl. Already so shaken up. Go on. You can do it.”

You huff at his taunting. Usually, he’d just see you struggling and take off his clothes for you, but today he was thriving off watching you so desperately trying to get his clothes off him.

It takes you a minute to get his clothes off him, and you don’t even properly take off his pants. You merely shoved them down along with his boxers just low enough for his monstrous cock to spring out. Nanami merely watches you with a cocky smirk.

“Yeah? This is what you wanted?” He purrs lowly, and he carefully drags his tip up and down your core, smearing his precum along your lips as if his tip was giving you a sloppy kiss.

“Gonna take all of it, aren’t you?” His other hand releases your wrists, and he lovingly cups your cheek. His hand is so big compared to your face. He loves watching you nuzzle up into his palm.

You nod your head quickly in response, lifting your hips up to meet his with each slow movement. Wet slippery noises from your cunt weeping for him fill the room.

“Use your words.” He demands before he speaks up louder — just to spite his parents who are right below you two. “I said. You’re going to take this dick like a good girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes!” You whine before your body is completely shell shocked from a quick slap to your cunt. His cock is so heavy — you can feel the weight of it as his rudely smacks it against you again.

“Louder.”

“Yes sir-!” You immediately oblige, following his commands without a second thought in your brain.

His lips curl into a lopsided grin, and he carefully guides his sweltering tip towards your entrance, plugging your hole with just his head.

“Keep being a good girl like that, and I might have to give you baby. Do you want that?” He asks while carefully stretching you by fucking his tip in and out of your tight hole. “You wanna have my baby, don’t you?”

“Ffffuck- Ken! T-too much..” You squirm your body against his bedsheets, and he chuckles at your poor attempt at getting away.

“You clearly want this, so why are you running?” He hands latch onto your thighs, and he pulls you back down towards him, inadvertently impaling you even further on his cock.

A smug chuckles bubbles up in his throat as he sees how much of a mindless mess you are. He loves how he can make you all dumb so quickly with his dick. It brings him great joy to know that you trust him and can just let go, letting the more primal urges take over.

“Mmm~ so tight and wet for me, aren’t you darling? Need to just let Ken take care of you, yeah?” His voice is like velvet as he slowly thrusts himself in and out, sinking deeper into you with each movement, splitting you wide open.

“Ah~! nnnnn… so good.” You manage to whine out.

“What a crybaby. I know you can take me better than that, darling.” Nanami gives you a soft kiss on the forehead before his large hand wraps around your neck, applying pressure in just the right spots to make you all lightheaded.

"Come on. Show me how good you can take it~" His hips snap forward suddenly, sinking his full length deep inside you. Your eyes roll back into your head as he takes full control over you.

His hips are pounding forward, bumping his tip right against your cervix with every mean thrust. His balls are heavy and slapping against the flesh of your ass — a reminder for how pent up he's been recently.

Maybe it's the lack of an orgasm for the last couple of days or maybe it's his parents being utter assholes to you, but Kento finds himself feeling frustrated all over again. Low grunts and growls escape him, and he uses his grip on your neck to push himself in even further -- harder.

The sound of skin clapping against skin fills the room, and his childhood beds starts to squeak out with each forceful blow. He knows for a fact that his parents can hear every single noise. The thin walls of this house absolutely hide nothing. He may as well have fucked you right there against the kitchen table to really prove a point.

"Fuck-! Kenkenkenken! Ah~" You can't even form sentences much less words other than his name. Before you can even warn him, your walls begin to pulse around him - practically milking him while your orgasm takes you over. "Nnngh~ I-I love you.."

"Mmnn~ I didn't tell you that you could do that, sweetheart." He hazel eyes bore into your very soul as his grin shifts to a more wild one. His hips move with even more vigor as if he's trying to push himself straight into your womb,

His hand lets go of your throat, finally allowing you to get a deep breath of air while trying to cope with his massive size pumping in and out of you as if you're nothing but a senseless fuck toy, but you clearly fucking love it. You're practically dripping all over him, soaking his bedsheets in your arousal.

At this point, his parents aren't sure if he's killing you or fucking you. Either way, they're too afraid to intervene. They didn't raise a gentleman at all. They raised a monster.

"Mmph... Need to give you a baby. Can I? You'd make such a pretty mama. School be damned. I need you." Normally, Nanami is pretty controlled over his pillow talk. He's really good at it, but right now, he's completely lost in you -- just babbling promises of giving you a baby and marrying you.

"Y-yes, Ken! Fuck... give me a baby, please." Your legs are trembling around his waist, and your fingernails are giving him such pretty decorations along his back. Small trophies for fucking you just right.

"Fuuuck- Take it. T... take it all..." His voice is a gravely groan as his cock twitches inside you, spilling all of his seed directly into your tummy. It's so fucking much from holding back for a couple of days - completely filling you up. "I love you so much. Gonna marry you one day."

The house is eerily silent for a moment as both you and Nanami catch your breaths. He stays planted on top of you, keeping your legs hooked around his waist. Small creaks of footsteps against a floorboard fill the air, and you tense up, thinking his parents were going to come in there and raise all sorts of problems.

Nanami gently strokes your face with the back of his hand. "Shhh, they're not coming in here. Promise." He whispers lowly, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead. You slowly relax in his arms, trusting his words that his parents weren't going to come in there.

You can hear a door open and shut, and it sounds like bickering back and forth between his parents.

"See? They're just going to bed." He presses another reassuring kiss to your cheek.

His hips continue to lazily pump in and out of you, basically fucking his cum back into you as it seeps out. His cock is hyper sensitive, but he can't get enough. You're completely drenched for him. You deserve more of his loving.

"Keennn~" You whine quietly, shifting in the bed slightly as your legs are all achy and sore from him taking out all of his anger on you.

"What is it, baby?" He asks in a hushed whisper against your ear. His breath tickles your skin, making you slightly squirm in response. "I'm just making sure it takes, yeah?" His cock sinks further into you, already growing hard all over again even though he just finished.

"Mmmph~" You hum as your eyes slipped closed. Nanami smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead, knowing that you're already needy all over again for him.

"Answer me, darling. Want me to stop?" He asks while peppering kisses all over your face. If the last round was about degradation and taking his anger out, then this one was about how much he loves you and can't get enough of you.

"Nonono... don't stop, please." You murmur out quickly, looking up at him with big, pleading eyes.

"That's my good girl... Always needin' more, aren't you?" He hums lowly, and his cock pumps in and out so slowly, delicately smushing against your cervix with each loving thrust.

"Mmn.. I love you." You slur out, completely cock drunk at this point. Kento just smiles and continues to dote on your with messy kisses against your cheeks and neck. His hand is gently massaging your breast, just barely teasing your nipple while he makes love to you.

"And I love you, darling." He responds before he feels you squeezing around him already. "Oh pretty, again?" He asks as his eyes look down to your fluids gushing around his length. "Such a mess. How are we meant to sleep on these sheets now?"

"'m sorry... I c-couldn't help it. 'm so sorry." You whimper as your face dips into his shoulder, hiding you obvious embarrassment.

Kento's arms wrap around your waist, and he uses his hold on you to drag you up and down along his length — still moving at such a torturously slow pace, making you feel every inch as it enters you.

"Aw, that's alright, darling. I'll clean us up. Just take a little bit more for me, yeah?" He whispers into your ear while your pelvis is slotting against his. He's damn near holding you up into his arms. Lucky you for having such a strong boyfriend.

His lips find yours for a messy kiss. His tongue slips past your lips, claiming your mouth as his completely. A few seconds later, his cock is pumping you full again with his cum — still so much on the second round.

Without even missing a beat, Nanami's mumbling breathily in your ear. "Mmm, I know I said I'd clean us up, but you wouldn't hate a third round, would you?"

*** *** ***

Nanami didn't wake you up the next morning to watch him work on the car. He knew your poor little body was put through the ringer yesterday, so he gave you a tender kiss on the temple before making his way into the garage in just his sleeping pants and socks.

His father's car was already propped up on the jack, and his father groaned as he leaned up off the ground. "Well good morning." He says in a knowing tone.

"Good morning. Why are you down there? I told you I'd fix it today." Nanami asks as he shoos his dad out of his way, and he slides himself underneath the car.

"Well, I didn't know if you'd be up for it after your fun ventures last night." His dad hands Nanami a tool to help get the brake pads off the car.

Nanami stays silent. In his new found clarity, he does know that fucking you so loudly to where his parents can hear was a weird retaliation method, but he doesn't regret doing it.

"Your mother cried all night last night."

"Maybe she needs a reality check if she's that damn upset about who I choose to romantically involve myself with." Nanami rolls his eyes, and he grunts as he forces the brake pad away from the car.

"I don't think she was crying because of that. I think she realizes just how far she drove you away from her with her constant pressure over your love life." His dad explains, and he hands Nanami the new brake pad to replace on the car. "I'm not saying you or yn have to forgive her for how she acted today, but I am asking that you try to give her another chance today. I think she understands now."

Nanami takes a deep breath, but he nods quietly. "She's got one more time to say anything rude to my girlfriend, and we're taking the first train back to the university."

*** *** ***

Your eyes darted over to Nanami's nervously when his mother asked you to have a girl's day with her, but your boyfriend gently rubbed your back, silently assuring you that it'd be okay. At least, he hoped it'd be okay.

Nanami: Text me if she says anything rude. I'll pack our stuff up and we'll leave, okay?

Luckily, you didn't have to text him at all that day. His mom took you sight seeing around the town, out to eat at one of Hakone's favorite restaurants, and you two got your nails done.

"You know, I was being a bad person yesterday." She starts off as you two are sat next to each other. Her feet are being massaged by one of the workers, and you're getting your toes painted. "I guess I just had this idea of how I wanted Kento's life to go, and when things started not going to plan, I started trying to grasp onto anything that'd give me control."

You glance over at his mother, and she has a small nostalgic smile upon her face. "I can't believe I allowed myself to act that way towards you... especially after my parents did the same thing to Kento's dad."

"Your parents didn't accept Kento either?" You curiously ask, wondering how similar your stories were.

"No, but they didn't try to arrange me into a marriage either. They just didn't think Kento's dad was manly enough for me. They didn't like seeing me wear the pants in the relationship, but that's just what works for us... I use to beg for them to just let us be happy, but they never stopped criticizing him. I finally just.. stopping talking to them when I fell pregnant with Kento." She explains in a voice raw with emotion. You can clearly see how this still impacts her to this day.

"I don't want Ken to do the same to me... I want to be in his and your life and my future grandchild's life if that's what you two choose to do. I raised him well, and I know he has a good judgement of character. So, I know you must be a good person. If he's happy, then that's all that matters to me." She goes on, giving you a small apologetic smile. "I'm really sorry for how I acted towards you last night. It will never happen again."

*** *** ***

Nanami had spent the whole day checking his phone religiously while his dad kept him employed with random home renovation tasks. He was waiting for the moment to start packing up your stuff and telling his mom that he wasn't going to speak to them again.

When he heard sounds of wailing coming from the front door, he immediately hopped off the ladder that his dad was holding for him.

"Kento-!" His dad shouts as he wobbles around, but Nanami was already speed walking towards the front door to see what was happening.

To his surprise, there was no wailing. It was only hysterical laughter coming from you and his mom. He stood in the door way with a confused look on his face as he observed you two.

"Yes, he was such a cutie pie.." His mom laughs as she shows you another picture of Kento in high school.

"Aww, Ken... you didn't tell me you were emo." You greeted your boyfriend with a fit of giggles from seeing his high school photos. His fringe proudly in view.

Nanami rakes his hands through his shorter hair now, and he lets out a relieved laugh. Seeing you interact so happily with his mom was enough to make him feel full with love. His heart feels at ease now... until he remembers that he has to meet your parents at some point.

tags: @lemonlimecrystal-blog @theuniversesnepobaby

[kukinkrim]

no demon is good enough for my sister!

saja boys x jinu's sister!reader (separate)

note: this prompt was sent via ask o(^o^)o i roughly translated it to english so i apologize if i got your request wrong TT

hell was a cruel, lonely place to be.

it wasn’t the the searing flames that littered across their lands, or the constant screams of souls in despair, or even the endless, crushing weight of torment.

no, it was the emptiness that got you. the kind that wrapped itself around your soul and whispered that you’re all alone. that no one in the surface remembers who you are and you are chained down in the pits of hell with broken memories to live by.

there was no sun in hell. no sky. the only thing that could come close to a sun is gwi-ma, a literal ball of flame, sitting on his throne as he relishes in the suffering of his people.

you forget who you were after a while.

perhaps, your brain hotwired itself in order to cope. maybe, the past was just too painful to be remembered.

that's when jinu found you.

he wasn’t much to look at back then—just another unfortunate thing that got too close to the sun—but he saw you.

you, this little scrap of a soul, barely hanging on, barely even remembering your own name. he didn’t ask why you were there as he knelt, took your hand, and said, “you don’t have to be alone anymore.”

maybe, you reminded him of his sister from his past life and wanted a chance at redemption. to do good now after abandoning his family for power.

no matter the reasons, though, you were grateful. you are jinu's sister now. not by blood, of course, but by choice.

no one in the mortal realm knew jinu had a sister; not even his members who spemt their days in hell with him. to be fair they just never cared enough to look for friends when they were literally suffering down there.

jinu didn’t go out of his way to hide it. it just never came up. in the chaos of their idol schedules, gwi-ma, not dying—the fact that he had someone to protect just didn’t get mentioned.

no secrets were bound to stay secrets. the members found out eventually, and it's taking every fiber in his being not to tear his hair from his scalp.

no demons are good enough for his little sister!

romance.

it started with flowers.

true to his name, romance was a romantic. he kept giving you flowers of various kinds. different shades of color now decorated your room. he would hand them to you with that usual smirk, winking like a walking cliché.

you didn’t expect him to say “i like you,” ome day, when he gives you a bouquet of red roses this time.

you really didn’t expect to like him back as much as you did.

and you definitely didn’t expect jinu to catch the two of you kissing behind the rehearsal room.

“WHAT?!”

you both jumped three feet apart. a hand sheepishly covering your mouth as you avoided eye contact with your brother.

“This is an INSULT to MY HONOR!” jinu shouted, clutching his head like the scandal physically wounded him. in fact, he wants to gouge out his eyes and wipe that shit-eating grin off of his bandmate's lips. “you—you kissed her?! WITH THAT FILTHY LIPS OF YOURS?”

“okay, wow,” romance blinked, trying not to laugh, yet still offended. “excuse you, i brush five times a day. that's atleast four times more than abby.”

“she’s my sister, you filthy no-good casanova demon!”

you tugged at your brother's sleeves, feeling a bit embarassed at his outburst now. romance didn't seem to mind, though, but you do. "jinu, please. we were just—”

instead of listening, the man only pulls you in a protective hug, smooshing your face against his hoodie. “no! no just! you want to court my sister? FINE. but you’re going to do it the right way. with letters. with dowries. with a goat sacrifice, like in the old days—”

“where the hell am i getting a goat!?”

"and then-" he emphasizes, glaring at romance. "and then i'd think about letting you hold her hand."

abby.

dating abby felt like dating a very energetic puppy.

he brought you snacks, took you on chaotic dates, and liked to make you laugh until your stomach hurt. on contrary to popular beliefs (cough his members cough) he was actually a very smart guy with great emotional intelligence.

abby absolutely adored you, following you around like a personal guard dog.

then he kissed you, one day, while in the middle of a grocery store run.

jinu was, somehow, also there. the single yogurt he was holding pops in his hand, fruit-glavored goo dripping down to the floor.

the silence was deafening.

"uh," abby blinks. "clean up in aisle three...?"

jinu doesn't seem to find it funny as he starts to sprint from the other end of the aisle towards where you both were.

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!”

abby panicked, flustered judging by the way his cheeks erupted into flames in an instant. “i didn’t mean to—it just—it was spontaneous show of affection!”

“you kissed her in public?! with tongue?!"

“not that much tongue!”

you were garnering attention from other shoppers at this point so you ended up covering your face in embarassment. "guys please, there was no tongue! let's leave!"

“THIS IS AN OUTRAGE.”

when you both got home, jinu was quick to drag abby in another room. maybe they talked? but abby gets throigh the door like a lost little puppy, staring at you with wide, pleading eyes.

jinu only ushers him out before you could speak. "i'll only allow pink holding. i see you putting that dirty lips anywhere near my sister and i'll stitch it close!"

mystery.

it was always subtle with mystery.

a brush of your hand. hanging out more than you usually do with other members. mystery was alot... more normal, so to speak, when it comes to you. he actually–actually, speaks. and smiles.

mystery didn't outright confessed though.

you didn’t even realize you were dating until he justnwhispered “mine” in your ear one day and kissed your cheek like it was the most natural thing in the world.

you were flustered.

he wasn’t.

and jinu is on the doorframe, combusting.

“you let mystery–MYSTERY of all people date you?” jinu looks at you in disbelief as he points an accusatory finger at his bandmate. mystery only shrugs in return, not at all offended. “he doesn’t even talk in full sentences! how do you know his intentions?!”

"my intentions are passionate and pure," the said boy replies.

you swooned, clasping your hands together as you smiled. "see? that’s romantic.” jinu wishes he could just strangle that demon boy's neck here and now for brainwashing his little sister.

“THAT IS WHAT ALL SERIAL KILLERS SAY.”

"if it's any consolation, jinu, i’d never harm her. but i would harm for her.”

“see?” you glanced at jinu, smiling wide as if your boyfriend didn't just say the most insane thing ever. "he's romantic!"

“YOU’RE ALL INSANE.”

baby.

baby didn’t mean to fall for you.

he didn’t mean to let it happen. you were a kind soul. the kind of soul he was supposed to destroy, not hold in his arms like it was precious. he didn't think he deserve it, honestly.

and also, he'd rather not date his bandmate's sister. mostly because of how exhaisting it would be to go through all that protective brother thing, but he ended up falling for you anyway, despite his earlier statement.

one night, you fell asleep on his shoulder on the couch.

that's literally it.

then came the moment jinu walked into the living room and saw you curled up next to baby, asleep, his arm wrapped securely around you.

he was absolutely livid.

“you're deadmeat,” jinu muttered while he stalks towards his bandmate with his ryes glarimg through his soul.

“dude—” baby tried to pull away, but arms that were wrapped around hid torso orevented him from doing so. it would've been cute how you wouldn't let go if hr wasn't about to die by the hands of your brother.

“do you even know what it means to be in a relationship?! you can’t just—just snuggle your way into someone’s life!”

“she fell asleep—what was i supposed to do?” baby looked at him in disbelief.

jinu only gripped the back part of the couch as the fabric wrinkled under his sharp nails. "does a pillow not exist?!"

you were woken up abruptly when a pair of arms tugged you back, the air knocking out of your lungs. suddenly, you were not beside baby anymore but in the arms of your older brother who held you in a protective stance. “NO SLEEPING TOGETHER! GET MARRIED FIRST!”

"dude, we were just sleeping. what–"

"negative points for you!"

"WHAT–"

[ssahotchnerr]

New request brewed in my brain this morning, so what if like the reader got taken by a unsub and the team found them and Hotch is with the reader and they were drugged is is just very out of it and is falling asleep and Hotch is saying things “sorry sweetheart I need to stay up” or like “I know your tired love but you have to wait” and is just being very supportive and lovey dovey like.

weightless and wanting

he's the sweetest 🥺🤕 cw; fem bau!reader, reader is drugged - only their induced state is described: this just consists of aaron comforting them, mutual pining, sooo much fluff, aaron blames himself - are we surprised? wc; 1k

The fear that took hold of Aaron during the time you were unaccounted for was something he’d remember for a long time.

Despite several eyes, constant surveillance, or being tapped into a wire, undercover work was risky. One untallied thing could slip right by and unravel everything in an instant.

One moment, you were at the bar, conversing with the suspect. And the next, you were gone.

Aaron's heart had stopped, his eyes shifting as he observed all cams frantically. Maybe you had moved locations. Maybe you changed positions, your back facing rather than the front.

Nothing. No sight of you.

He could barely recall jumping into action, alerting the team that you had to be found - now. And it hadn't taken long. Only you were found on the ground, helpless. Completely at the unsub's mercy.

At the sudden intrusion of agents, the unsub made his getaway, fleeing down the alley as fast as his legs could carry him.

"Morgan!" Aaron snapped as panic surged through him, freezing his blood cold.

"We got him!" Morgan sounded off, gun raised as he and JJ dashed after the guy.

"Hey." Aaron crouched next to you as he holstered his gun, hands outstretched and gingerly reaching for you. You hummed gently at his touch, coming to. "Hey hey hey, are you alright?"

"Yeah, 'm fine." You confirmed as you immediately slumped into him, swallowing thickly. It took you a second, in attempt to gather your incoherent thoughts, clearly fighting against your induced, quickening state. The world was dizzying. "But I-think... he.."

"He drugged you," Aaron confirmed, scanning your person quickly. Your slurring words, blanching skin, your half-lidded eyes - all unmistakable indicators you'd been slipped something. Fuck.

You relaxed at the shared understanding; finally free to succumb to the overwhelming sluggishness with the confirmation someone knew. The team was here. Aaron was here.

Aaron could take care of things now, something for which you were grateful because you were so tired.

His head shot to the side as your eyes fluttered shut, his own filled with hardened urgency. "Reid."

"Ambulance is on the way."

"You hear that?" Aaron turned back to you, speaking calmly, but beneath it ran a current of barely restrained fear. You were caged in his arms, allowing him to hold you upright. His arm wrapped around the crook of your neck, safely keeping you against him, your cheek against his chest. "Help's on the way. I just need you to stay awake for me."

Forcing your eyes open, you nodded drowsily as you gripped onto his forearm, your fingernails digging into his skin as you fought to remain alert. Only, it weakened, the sting dwindling as the seconds passed.

Blinking up at him, your sorrowful, dazed eyes ached his heart in a way he never knew possible, "I'm sorry Aaron."

"Don't be, you didn't do anything wrong," he reassured, his tone insistent yet matching your soft whisper. Your referring to him as 'Aaron' instead of 'Hotch' only served to make him feel exponentially worse. You've called him by some form of his last name since the day you’d met him. And considering what he kept hidden, he would've welcomed the more personal feeling that his first name brought.

But tonight, it hit too close. Hearing his given name reminded him this was his fault. He should never have let you go undercover, should never have allowed your assurances that everything would be okay to sway him into agreeing.

But it had just been too perfect. You were the unsub’s ideal victim. Given the opportunity, he would have no choice but to pursue you. Whether Aaron liked it or not, you were the key in catching him.

He’d had a gut feeling this was a bad idea before you even got dressed to go to the bar, or when Dave suggested it, or before Dave suggested it. Aaron knew that telltale look on his face - the one that held a perfectly arranged ploy despite the dangers it consisted of.

And while strictly strategic, it still didn't deny the jealousy that caused his jaw to clench as the unsub flirted with you. To ensure you'd gotten the correct guy, you had to flirt back; flash him your beautiful smile, lay a hand on his arm.

Acting or not, Aaron hadn't wanted to sit there and watch it play out. He ardently longed for you and you didn't even know it.

"We got him. We know who he is. You did your job well."

"But I..." you protested, your nose scrunching in disapproval in the silent certainty you'd let him down. It was getting harder to form thoughts now - everything felt distant, slower, as if your brain lagged behind reality.

"The only thing you need to worry about is keeping your eyes open." At that, your eyes lifted back to his, softening at the sight of his sweet, sweet brown eyes.

You tried to focus on his gaze, but it swam in and out of clarity. When you could, it wasn't panicked, there was no pressure, just need. A soft kind of desperation.

"It's okay. I'm going to take care of you," he consoled. "Jus' stay awake for me baby."

You wanted to, for him, but your breathing grew deeper regardless. Your eyes - along with your limbs - felt detrimentally heavier than before. Despite trying your hardest, you couldn’t keep them from closing. Letting all your worries slip away along with the surrounding noise.

Besides, you were safe - tucked in Aaron's arms. Nothing bad could happen to you now, and he'd be right there when you awoke later. You knew he would be, he always was.

Aaron pressed his lips to the top of your head. The last thing you heard before succumbing to the darkness:

"Relax, I've got you."