#with the fan on to give it a chance to dry

[distuff]

I going to assume this is where we ask the requests so may I request a Saja boys x reader(separate but all of them) where they’re jealous after reader did something and how’d they react?

Answer: LMAO aye aye! Thx to ya I made all the changes at the beginnin for makin it esier for others to have a better idea, so thank you~ It was funny how you and were right after the other readershi who wanted to see these boyz jealous xDD Your wish is my command though ! I hope you enjoy it.

📍Requests: Please, check my Bio.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

Demon Boys' And Jealousy

Featuring: Jinu Saja, Abs Saja, Romance Saja, Mystery Saja, Baby Saja Reader: Gender neutral

Jinu Saja

🐦‍⬛ Jinu personally didn’t think he was a jealous person...

🐦‍⬛ He looked up, turning to blink at the tiger. The tiger didn’t blink back. It sat there, staring through him with the unsettling stillness of something that knew. As if it could peer into the hollow cavity where his soul used to be.

🐦‍⬛ With a shaky breath, Jinu tore his gaze away and dropped it to the notebook in his lap, trying - trying - to focus on another one of Saja’s newer songs.

🐦‍⬛ Where was he? Right - He liked to think he could manage the sparks of jealousy. That he was above it. That he could smother it with rational thought before it ever had the chance to claw its way to the surface. But that was a lie. And the tiger - of course knew it.

🐦‍⬛ Above him, Magpie let out a sharp, mocking cackle from where it was perched on the long lamp looming over the couch. Jinu groaned, flinging his arms over his head, notebook still clutched in one hand, pen dangerously close to poking him in the eye.

🐦‍⬛ “Oh, spare me!” he said to the two ungrateful creatures, barely restraining the urge to launch the notebook at the smirking bird.

🐦‍⬛ This whole situation had started because of his irrational jealousy. That was the root of it. The spark. So how could anyone expect him - when his entire state of existence was now practically constructed from jealousy - not to act on it!

Jinu wasn’t as active as Abby when it came to exercising, but he also wasn’t as lazy as Baby or Mystery - those two practically had to be dragged outside just to get some fresh air, otherwise they’d dry out and be utterly useless later on. He enjoyed a simple night walk. Disguised, of course - nothing elaborate, just enough to avoid the eyes of their “fans.” He kept the concealment on until he reached the outskirts of the main city, where the air quieted and the streets thinned, and he could shed the disguise and just… breathe. The peace never lasted long. Sooner or later, he’d have to wear the idol’s mask again - or worse, the face of a soul-devouring demon. He never quite understood the thrill the others got from feeding. For them, devouring a soul was euphoric, intoxicating. For him, it just felt weird. Off. The leftover emotions from their human prey rushed through his system like a poison. More than once, he’d fought the urge to purge the very essence he’d had to consume - because if he didn’t feed, he’d weaken. And if he weakened, someone would overpower him. Whether that was another demon or one of his brothers in rank didn’t matter. Either way, hesitation meant death. The night walks were his one escape. They helped him clear his head, helped him pretend - for just a while - that he was nothing more than some delinquent climbing rooftops, finding a quiet place to perch where no one could see him. A place where the honmoon wouldn’t be provoked too easily. It had always been just him… until you came along. You introduced yourself into his life, unknowingly giving him peace of mind even in daylight. And when it was just the two of you? Those walks became something more. He enjoyed them far more than he should’ve - far more, given the countdown ticking overhead like a guillotine waiting to drop. He didn’t know how yet, but there had to be a way to keep your soul anchored to you. To protect it from the old King’s greed. If not… if no other way revealed itself… he’d be forced to devour you himself. And he wouldn’t be allowed to hesitate if the others were to watch. One moment of weakness and they'd either take you for themselves, or kill him where he stood. Or both. For now, they stayed away. You were his prey. His claim was clear enough, and no one dared challenge it yet. But that didn’t mean you were safe. If he slipped up - if he showed even a crack - they’d descend without mercy. To you, the two of you were a pair. Something sweet and in your head lasting. To them, you were just a meal he was taking his time savouring. Jinu didn’t want to think about any of that tonight. Not now. Not when he was getting ready to head out for his - yours - usual evening walk. Pulling on his leather jacket to make it look he was warding off the autumn chill, he turned and called your name. A second later, with nothing from you, he strained his ears only to wince right after - his hand flying to his right ear as a sharp sound pierced through him. The TV. Of course, Jinu winced inwardly. Jinu grimaced. Even at low volume, that thing buzzed like a mosquito in their ears. But the volume was up a notch higher now, which could only mean one thing: you were there. Still massaging his ear, he muttered curses under his breath and stepped out of the hallway, peeking around the wall to get a clear view of the living room. Mystery sat on the couch, somehow watching the screen through the thick fringe of his hair. His posture was unnervingly straight, hands placed neatly on his lap. Abby sprawled lazily, a bored expression in place as he stared at the Tv screen. His right arm stretched casually across the back of the couch - resting behind you. You sat in the middle of them, leaning forward slightly, eyes glued to the screen. Jinu’s eyes narrowed.

He was no stranger to the feeling that made his shoulders round, made his neck itch with the urge to crack his neck, called him to march over, and wedge himself between you and those two. Ideally, pulling you into his lap and acting as a living barrier. Jinu inhaled deeply, rolled his shoulders, and sauntered forward. One hand rubbed the back of his neck, easing the tension in the muscle before he gave it a soft crack. Without a word, he came to stand in front of you, arms folded across his chest. You didn’t notice him at first - too busy leaning over to watch whatever Mystery was so intensely obsessed with this time. So Jinu snapped his fingers in front of your face, prompting you to blink up at him. Your eyes lit up the second they met his unimpressed stare. A bright grin broke across your face. “Juni!” His shoulders eased at the sound of your voice, your use of that nickname - though the calm didn’t last. His gaze flicked to the two demons seated beside you. Thankfully, they were too absorbed in the screen to notice how much of an effect you had on him. You tilted your head, your eyes curious. “Is something the matter?” He tried not to focus on how casual you sounded - how you didn’t seem to register your shared evening walks as habit. Crouching down in front of you, Jinu angled himself so he didn’t have to look down at you anymore. “Ah… remember?” he asked, gesturing to the large window that framed the darkened sky, city lights already flickering beneath it. “Evening walk?” Your gaze followed where he pointed, then returned to him. You drew in your shoulders and pressed your lips together, looking hesitant. You sucked in your bottom lip and Jinu’s unease deepened. “Well…” you trailed off, making a vague gesture with your hand as if that should somehow explain everything.

Jinu squinted at you. He was this close to just slinging you over his shoulder and marching out the door. Baby had given him more than enough practice in how to secure a squirming body. You, being human, wouldn’t be able to put up nearly as much of a fight. Seeing he wasn’t going to let this go easily, you finally sighed in defeat. You spread your legs slightly, leaned forward, and rested your arms on your thighs with a pleading look. “The new season of my favourite series will come out tonight,” you whispered, eyes wide with excitement. “And Mystery said I could watch it on your big TV!” You gestured dramatically at the TV set up behind him - an admittedly expensive set by human standards. Jinu gave the screen a sharp glare. It was just an animal documentary. Lions, apparently. Tearing into something. He turned back to you with disbelief. “You do know you can watch it any time - after we come back.” He spoke at his usual volume, only to be immediately shushed. Jinu shot a look at Mystery. “Did you just—” “Shhh.” Mystery shushed him again. This time, Abby joined in, both of them leaning forward with fingers to their lips. Jinu blinked at them, visibly perplexed. He opened his mouth to object - there was literally no dialogue on screen, just lions snarling over a bloody gazelle - when your hand touched his shoulder. He glanced back at you. Your sheepish smile softened his frown. “Yeah, but…” you whispered, eyes flicking briefly to the side before settling on him again with quiet determination, “it’s different when you’re watching air live.” Jinu honestly wanted to ask how it was different. What possibly changed. But just as he parted his lips to question your frankly ridiculous logic, a wave of demonic aura seeped into the air from either side of you. Abby and Mystery, without moving much at all, made their warning perfectly clear. Jinu had two choices: sit down and shut up, or get out. He sighed. Reaching for your hand, he offered a weak smile and gave a small nod before lowering himself to the carpeted floor. He slid between your legs and leaned back against the couch, letting you slot him into place. The documentary continued. Lions tearing into thier dead prey. Blood everywhere. Jinu flexed his hands on his lap, resisting the urge to grumble. This was not how his night was supposed to go. He was being replaced. Not even by the TV - by a series. He sighed again, heavier this time, shoulders slumping as he glared at the screen, only to perk up when your hand slid into his carefully styled hair. You ran your fingers through it, scratching his scalp gently, easily messing it up without a care in the world. Jinu shivered. Instinctively, he leaned into your touch. Then your other hand slid down to his throat, beneath his chin. You tipped his face up and he let you, head tilted back slightly- His eyes widened as your lips brushed his, soft and warm. He blinked, startled for a split second - then relaxed into it, eyes fluttering shut as he pressed back. Yeah… maybe you could skip your evening walk just this once. As long as he got more attention than the dammed television. Not that he’d ever dare damage the thing. Just imagining what Mystery would do if he touched it sent a very different kind of shiver down his spine. And that had nothing to do with your touch.

<><><>

Abs Saja

💪 Abby wasn’t at all familiar with the term jealousy.

💪 He’d only learned about it after joining Jinu into the human world - first hearing it tossed around on those “sites” where people put pictures of themselves doing absolutely nothing of importance while strangers commented their thoughts underneath. He’d seen it muttered in passing by humans - “fans,” Jinu told him to called them - when he was signing his name on whatever they thrust into his face. And it showed up occasionally in those human dramas that played on the “TV” when he had nothing better to do and ended up beside Mystery on the couch.

💪 Even after picking up a fairly decent understanding of the concept, Abby still didn’t know how it was supposed to make his body react - if he was being honest. Not like he cared. Not really.

💪 There were far more interesting things in the human world than some feeling that, in his view, humans had invented just to make simple things unnecessarily complicated. I don’t like this—let me change it.

💪 That should’ve been enough. But then again, who was he to speak? He was more demon now than man, and his past... well, that was something he preferred to keep buried. If he had the choice, he’d leave it untouched.

💪 Still - Abby should’ve known. Should’ve expected that forming a connection with a human would eventually drag answers to questions he forgot he even asked.

It was one of those overcast days, the sky thick with grey clouds, announcing the rain that lurked just beyond the horizon. Abby could already hear the low, lazy rumble of thunder rolling somewhere in the distance - not quite overhead, but close enough to suggest it would settle in soon. Which meant if he stepped outside now, he might as well go out into the streets shouting that he was a demon here to claim every twitching human soul in earshot. Mystery had explained it to him once - after he’d all but run out of the shower with parts of his demonic features peeking through his supposed human skin, panicking that Gwi-ma was weakening. Apparently, their illusions functioned like layers of paint - carefully brushed over their true forms. And things like water or even a sweat could slowly strip those layers away until reality began to bleed through the cracks. And really - who was he to argue with the older demon? Still, this left him now with two conclusions: one irritating, the other… not so much. The annoying bit was simple: he’d have to exercise indoors. Which wouldn’t have been a problem on its own, except all the humans in the complex had clearly come to the same conclusion. And the shared gym? Cramped and humid. Abby didn’t mind sweating when he trained - he kind of enjoyed it, actually - but when the light hit him just right, his markings shimmered faintly, and his skin paled into that subtle, grey-blue hue. Easy to miss if no one was paying attention, but the wrong sort of eyes - especially hunters - tended to catch on. And then there was you. You’d said you needed a quiet space, somewhere you wouldn’t be bothered, and that ruled out the crowded gym anyway. Which meant Abby, by silent agreement, was stuck training in his own room. Annoying, yes. But also... pleasing. Because you were here. And you’d made it clear that if you ever felt like you were imposing, you’d leave. Which meant that if Abby wanted you to stay - which he very much did - he’d have to make a few sacrifices. Like giving up a chunk of his workout for the day. Oh well. He rolled his shoulders with a slow inward shrug and glanced at you where you sat cross-legged on his bed, fiddling with that magical little rectangle Jinu called a “phone.” He could afford to be lazy for a day. Especially if it meant basking in the warm, soothing presence of your soul - the one he so enjoyed soaking in, surrounding himself with, getting drunk on. Saliva pooled on his tongue just thinking about it. The once-bright blue, was already dimming - stained at the edges with crimson as their demonic influence quietly stirred over your soul. Once his stretches were done, Abby sauntered toward the iron bar fixed to the wall - a brutal little addition his brothers had insisted on after his first attempt at exercising in the main room had resulted in gagging, and Mystery outright fleeing from the scent. His pace was deliberate, loose. He swayed his hips slightly, rolled his shoulders, muscles flexing and pulling the tight tank top over his torso. His legs tensed beneath his sport shorts just as he leapt, hands gripping the bar with ease. He didn’t mind showing off in front of you. If anything, he enjoyed it - savored the look in your eyes when you stared just a bit too long. He knew exactly what his body could do. What kind of effect it could have. And he liked the way you looked at him when he made a point to show it. What Abby hadn’t accounted for was just how fast humans could adapt. Apparently, exposure dulled even the strongest reactions. Their attention drifted easily to new, shinier things. Which was maybe why, after only a few pull-ups, he held himself up - showing off with a smirk, tilting his head just so, flashing those sharp canines beneath a hooded gaze, fully expecting to find your eyes already on him. Only to nearly fumble his grip when he realised- You weren’t looking at him at all. Your eyes were fixed intently on the screen of that damned phone.

Abby’s nose twitched - sensing nothing but your unwavering concentration. It soothed some of the itch in his chest, that gnawing emptiness that never quite went away, no matter how many souls he consumed. Not really. He narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out what, exactly, could be more interesting than him right now. Even his gaze - heated and focused - didn’t seem to alert you. Abby was just about to whistle to get your attention when your voice suddenly rang out, bright and slightly forced. You held up your phone, smiling awkwardly as you nodded and greeted… someone? Abby froze. His focus had already loosened his grip on the iron bar, and your sudden movement was the final push that made his hold slip. He dropped with a solid thud, the impact rattling a few items on the nearby shelves. But he didn’t flinch. He was already rising, eyes locked on you from the floor like you had lost your mind. Are you alright in the head? he mouthed silently, twirling a finger near his temple before pointing at you. You furrowed your brows at him briefly, then quickly refocused on the phone, offering it an awkward smile as you confidently said, “Present.” Abby tilted his head, expression twisting into something between confusion and mild concern. Could demonic influence make humans go insane? It was a genuine question now. His eyes widened when he suddenly heard other voices - males and a few females, staticky, and invisible. He instantly looked around the room, searching for intruders, enemies, anything. If something was in here - if something was bold enough to challenge him in his own territory - he’d just show them exactly what kind of demon they were dealing with. But… nothing. Not a trace of another presence. No heartbeat, no soul signature, not even a flicker in the air. Just you. He looked back at you, only to jolt slightly as you were now giving him the "Are you okay?" look, eyes narrowed like he was the one acting weird. “What are you- ?” he began, only to fall silent when your eyes widened in panic. You shot him a look that clearly said, Shut up. Now Abby was both intrigued and annoyed. You seemed far more interested in whatever voices were coming from that tiny device than in him. Again. With his brows furrowed, he got up with a grunt, eyes fixed on you as he began to slowly stalk forward. “Yes, yes. Everything will be done by this Friday, I promise you, sir,” you said to the phone, your tone professional but clearly strained as you flicked your gaze between your screen and him. Abby was one second away from snatching the damned thing out of your hands and glaring at whoever thought they could steal your attention from him. But just as he reached out, your hand shot out and curled around his wrist. He looked down at your fingers wrapped around him, then back at you - unimpressed. He could easily pull away. Could do whatever he wanted really. But your touch, soft and sudden, paired with the silent pleading in your eyes… it cooled something in him. Just slightly. That deep, restless need to toss the phone aside, to pin you to the bed and lose himself in the warmth of your soul while you scrambled to hold him back - it didn’t disappear, but it dimmed.

You held his gaze - steady, firm - until a female voice buzzed through the phone. His ears rang a bit as he winced, and your head whipped away from him as you fumbled to confirm you were, in fact, listening, adding something about thinking you saw something. That made Abby grin sharply, the realisation settling over him like silk across skin. He didn’t know exactly what you were doing - but it was clear you didn’t want whoever was on the other end of that phone knowing he was here. Was he your dirty little secret~? No, that didn’t quite track. Your close friends knew you two were intimate. So then… why? The amusement drained from his features, fading into the pit of something far less pleasant. He couldn’t understand why you couldn’t just let those disembodied voices keep chatting to themselves through that possessed little rectangle and focus on him. On now. Abby didn’t like it. He also didn’t like standing there with all this unspent energy coiling under his skin. And you - you were making it hard to burn through it. So the moment your grip on his wrist started to weaken, Abby was already on the move. Without a word, he reached down and wrapped his hand around your ankle, tugging sharply. You bit your lip to stop any noise that wanted to leave as your posture crumbled, the phone nearly toppling out of your hands as you shifted - now seated with your legs splayed around his knees, trapped in place. Your eyes darted between the screen and the brooding look in his own, trying to hold onto both as if the two didn’t demand your full attention. Abby leaned in, eyes gleaming, lips curling into a smirk that promised far too much. “You,” he murmured, voice low and deliberate, “are going to figure out how to split your attention... with seventy-five percent of it on me… or-” His hand tightened just slightly around your ankle, firm but not painful. “ -I’ll very gladly give 'em a show they’ll never forget.” You flushed - he felt the heat rising off you in waves. Your expression flickered, visibly torn, and Abby knew damn well this shouldn’t even be a choice. You narrowed your eyes at his wicked grin as he began to mouth a countdown. Five... Four... Three... He got to two when you finally jabbed something on your phone, your tone sharp as you gave him a command instead of pleading: “Push-up position. Now.” Abby raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. He’d never been one to turn down a direct order - be it from Jinu, one of his brothers, or you. With a casual shrug, he lowered himself to the floor, hands planted firmly, legs stretched out, posture strong. He was about to glance up and smugly ask what the Royal Highness wanted him to do next - when he stilled. Your weight settled lightly across his lower back. Barely adding any weight. Abby blinked, surprised, and twisted to peer over his shoulder. You were fully focused on your phone again - expression serious, lips in a thoughtful pout like you were mentally juggling tasks - but now your warmth was resting against him. Your body was with him, even if your mind was still split. Abby’s lips pulled into a slow, toothy grin. His canines gleamed. Oh... you little masochist~ He chuckled under his breath and started the push-ups, each one slow and deliberate. Occasionally, he flexed his muscles just a bit more than necessary - earning a soft hiss, a poke of your foot to his ribs, or the delicious sound of his name whispered in mild exasperation. He didn’t care. He’d gotten what he wanted.

<><><>

Romance Saja

🌹 Romance was, by far, the least jealous of the five of them - and he was well aware of that.

🌹 The first time he even heard of jealousy, it was through something called a “comment” under a photo on this... "app" their manager had practically begged them to post. Apparently, posting was important for “engagement.”

🌹 Romance wasn’t sure what any of that meant, but from what he could gather, it involved humans reacting emotionally to pictures - and ducks, if the tiny round icons were to be trusted. Yes. A duck.

🌹 Romance had always known he was good-looking - otherworldly, as some humans had said - but to have a duck be jealous of him? That just felt unfair. He couldn’t, in good conscience, let such a poor creature think so lowly of itself.

🌹 Naturally, he replied to the comment. And for some reason got scolded for it by their manager. To make matters weirder, he was then invited to be some kind of... ambassador for animal rights. Or whatever that meant.

🌹 Weird, reall. Romance thought majority of humans already had rights. But anyway - back to the point.

🌹 He hadn’t understood what “jealousy” even was, so naturally, he went to their beloved human translator, Jinu. Romance had known Jinu for a few centuries now, and not once had he seen his brother react to anything quite so... passionately.

🌹 Either way, Romance had come to a firm conclusion: Jealousy was ugly.

🌹 Useless. Unassuming. Awful. Vile. Plain. Dreadful—

🌹 Aand Mystery snatched the precious book from his hands, muttering something about “thief.” Safe to say, Romance knew he would never think in such a way. Well... That was until he met a human who loved proving him wrong.

🌹 Didn’t you, you precious little worm~ ?

Romance was just putting the finishing touches on his freshly painted nails - this time opting for a daring combination of banana yellow and ocean blue. As expected, it looked fantastic. On him, of course. He couldn't imagine anyone else pulling off the look quite so flawlessly. “Darling,” he called out to you, admiring the now dry shimmer of his handiwork before carefully returning the various nail polish bottles to their rightful place in the box on the coffee table. With the space now cleared, it was your turn to get pampered. Romance wasn’t exactly sure when you’d moved from beside him on the carpeted floor of their shared living room, but he didn’t much care - so long as you responded. Or appeared. But you did neither. Frowning lightly, Romance looked up, perplexed by your silence. He could feel your presence, your soft, warm ripple in the honmoon - a soothing thrum of your soul pressing into the apartment’s atmosphere. Easily tracing the crimson line, his gaze landed on you just a few feet away, practically sprawled across Tiger’s plush belly. The spirit beast lay motionless on its back, all four legs pointed to the ceiling, while you absently patted its furry side. Tiger, in return, stared at you with wide, unblinking eyes - oddly content. The only sign that the beast was enjoying itself came in the form of a loud, rhythmic purring that Romance had only now registered, his demon hearing filtering back in once he emerged from his own head. Perched contentedly atop your back sat Magpie, methodically going through your hair like it was grooming you. Ohhh, he thought with a delighted grin. So that’s what this was. You were feeling lonely with his attention elsewhere. How precious~ He couldn't even blame you. Tiger’s fur did have a mildly intoxicating effect on humans - a fact they’d learned the hard way after you met them all properly... and after Romance almost immediately revealed that he and the others were demons. Not the easiest path in your connection, but you’d pulled through! Good for you. Especially considering Baby had been sharpening his claws at the mere thought of you running. Would Romance have tried to save you from the eager young demon if it came to that...? ... . . . “Darling?” he called out again instead of entertaining the thought any further, his smile dazzling as he partially turned your way. No use pondering things that would never happen - not now that you’d sworn to secrecy. Not when you chose him, in spite of it all.

At the sound of his slightly raised voice, your dazed eyes flicked towards him. You blinked once, then gave him a much softer smile in return. "Yeeah? What’s wrong?" you asked, your voice airy, touched with a lightness that made Romance chuckle as he straightened up slightly. He didn’t love how you were still sprawled across Tiger’s belly, absentmindedly running your hand through the spirit’s fur instead of coming over to him. But Romance didn’t let it show. “Well, for starters - your clothes,” he replied pointedly. You only hummed, smile deepening to yourself as you traced the stripes along Tiger’s side. Magpie peeked from behind your hair to send Romance a very unimpressed look, which he ignored in favour of continuing, “You’ll have fur all over them, mind you love.” He thought that would get you up. Clearly, he miscalculated. You just giggled, pressing yourself even further into the plush creature whose body had begun to vibrate with deep, pleased purrs. “Don’t be silly, Romance! I don’t mind a bit of fur. I can get it off with that... that - ah, that glue wheel!” you beamed, proud of yourself for remembering the term for a lint roller. Even Romance knew what a the "glue wheel" was called! Now considerably less amused, Romance would have usually run a finger gently through your honmoon wave to call your attention to him, but you were so blissed out he couldn’t begin to guess what that kind of contact might do to your human brain right now. He could have walked over and simply dragged you back to sit beside him - but that wasn’t an option either. You were being guarded. Tiger and Magpie’s joint aura radiated around you like a protective cocoon, the kind that would push his energy back the second he stepped too close with his current rattled state. How irritating.

Romance sighed softly, eyes tinged with bitterness as he watched you continue to receive your pampering - and dish it out in equal measure. You looked perfectly at peace, perfectly content… without him. Jealousy? Romance scoffed inwardly. This wasn’t jealousy. Of course not. He could have what you were giving them at any time. Any second. You were just... relaxed. Too relaxed to think rationally. Taking comfort wherever it presented itself. Romance’s lips pulled into a small pout as he turned away. So what? You preferred a motionless cat and a meddling bird over him? Fine. He could play at indifference, too. He ignored the twitch of his fingers, the restrained urge to look at you again. He especially ignored the intrusive thought that maybe he should’ve paid more attention to what you were doing... instead of expecting you to sit beside him and simply look pretty. To enjoy his company quietly, the way he always did with you. His brow furrowed. Quickly, he smoothed it out. He wouldn’t allow a wrinkle to form over something as petty as this. But he also didn’t like the way his mouth tasted with the vile feeling now swimming in his chest. Since when did he crave your attention this much? A quiet huff escaped him - just before he noticed a presence near him. He turned his head - perhaps a bit too eagerly for his liking - only to flinch back when he came nose-to-nose with Tiger’s unblinking stare. Startled, Romance pushed himself away, inhaling sharply, he needed a second to calm his racing breath. His wide eyes shifted to Tiger’s left side - only to find you sitting down beside him behind the coffee table, one hand resting gently on the spirit’s shoulder. You gave him a soft smile, while Magpie now fluttered above the nail polish box, examining the bottles with a critical eye. Romance’s startled expression wasn’t from the Tiger spooking him - it was from not feeling you three come closer. Normally, he’d sense you through the honmoon, but those two? They seemed to have cloaked your energy like snow blanketing grass. Just like when they made tracking Jinu impossible. Just how long were you snuggling them? The thought came out sharp - too sharp. Even in his own head, it sounded accusatory. Before he could linger on the thought, his gaze snapped back to Tiger. The spirit had lifted its right paw, extending it slowly forward with a low, deliberate rawr. Eyes locked. Staring. As if- “I believe it wasn't you to paint its ‘nails’~” you chimed, cheek resting against your palm as you leaned forward across the coffee table, expression expectant. Romance blinked at you, then slowly sat upright again, recovering from all that was suddenly happening. Still trying to brush off the strange, unfamiliar bitterness inside him, he reached for Tiger’s large paw, gently taking it in both hands and pressing into the pads to extend the luminous, jade-like claws. They were already somewhat tinted - but the way you were watching him, eyes bright with amusement and warmth, reignited something inside him. Your attention was back. That was all he needed. If you wanted to give up your seat to Tiger? Romance didn’t care, he would manage to paint the spirit's claws one way or another - so long as you stayed beside him. So long as your eyes were on him.

<><><>

Mystery Saja

🐶 You need to understand something. Mystery despised unnecessary movement.

🐶 The fact that he was already forced to move in sync with the others during their dances, striking poses with highly questionable gestures that were, for some reason, culturally considered “cute” - was bad enough. So whenever he could simply sit still and not move? He took it. Literally.

🐶 Mystery could remain perfectly still for hours if something caught his interest. The first time Abby witnessed this, he’d startled so hard the cereal box he was holding had flown out of his hands - scattering cornflakes across the room. He’d only been chewing on them “to have something to do,” even though he constantly complained about the taste.

🐶 Even then, Mystery hadn’t moved. He’d stayed seated in the same armchair near the window, eyes hidden under his fringe as he focused on the pulsing waves of the honmoon outside. Crimson glimmers occasionally shimmered across the blue surface, moving rebelliously over the barrier.

🐶 He was fully aware of Abby creeping closer to him. Still, he didn’t move.

🐶 When Abby stretched out a single finger to poke his cheek, the response was instant. A sharp crack and Abby yelped, suddenly kneeling on the floor with his arm twisted behind his back. Mystery had only moved one arm, smoothly dislocating Abby’s without hesitation or breaking his focus.

🐶 Abby, ever the pest, just beamed at him from the floor. “So you’re not dead!” he declared cheerfully. Mystery sighed softly.

🐶 So yes - you deciding that taking a walk was a good idea, Mystery was in a foul mood the second he stepped outside the shared apartment.

🐶 Believe him, he had every intention of persuading you to stay indoors by any means necessary... but then you hit him with those enlarged glittering eyes... He sighed again, this time much deeper.

Mystery never understood the appeal of dogs. Or pets in general. The only reason he didn’t mind Tiger and Magpie was because they shared a similar level of cognitive awareness to that of lower-ranking demons if not more. At least with them, communication was stimulating. The same could not be said for Earth’s animals - especially the domesticated ones. Mystery always felt a deep, visceral disappointment whenever he saw what was once a majestic beast reduced to nothing more than a drooling pet, wagging its tail and performing humiliating little tricks for praise and biscuits. He didn’t know why he thought you would be any different. The moment the two of you stepped into the park - your idea, of course - it wasn't long until you got distracted. A dog had spotted you from across the path and ran over, tail wagging furiously. Its owner, lounging on a nearby bench, gave only a cursory glance before going back to scrolling mindlessly through their phone. Like the rest of humanity, Mystery noted dryly. Though, to be fair, Jinu had once accused him of being addicted too to their television. Mystery, however, considered it education. He liked to absorb knowledge in all forms. A self-reading picture book was just another source. Currently, he stood beside you, hands tucked into the pockets of his long coat - an attempt to "blend in", as Jinu had advised. Apparently, heavier clothing was more appropriate for the cooler season. Despite being centuries older, Mystery trusted Jinu��s judgement on modern human etiquette. In terms of human knowledge, his junior was frustratingly competent. He stared at you now, eyes half-lidded behind his fringe, the brim of his cap shadowing most of his upper face. The face mask he'd been wearing had been tugged down earlier, back when the two of you had been talking. Back when he had your attention. Now? Now you were too busy cooing over a slobbering mutt. Mystery blinked slowly, deadpan. Weren’t you the one who invited me out...? He wouldn’t have minded your attention drifting - if he hadn’t sacrificed his only rest day to walk beside you in the first place. If you wanted to spend time with him, then your focus should be on him.

Not the nearest tail-wagger. He stepped forward deliberately. His shadow fell over both you and the dog. He made sure not to step on your wave that was part of the barrier as not to alert you. Instead, his gaze tracked the stray energy line connecting to the mutt - still just wild enough to not be attached to anything, it seemed. With one hand, he reached out and let the white line coil naturally around his finger. With the other, he brushed aside his fringe - just enough to meet the creature’s eyes once he pinched the dog’s line between his fingers. The dog stilled immediately, mid-scratch. You, unaware, kept rubbing under its chin. Its pupils dilated as Mystery's eyes flashed gold for a split second - his pupils slitting horizontally, before returning to their human guise. Mystery tilted his head slowly. The dog mirrored the motion, fur bristling as Mystery let his lips curl into a sharp, canine smile. Hello... friend, he spoke silently. The dog’s ears flattened. You blinked, sensing the change, and opened your mouth to call it. But it was too late. Its attention was no longer yours. With a soft, guttural growl too low for human ears, Mystery bared his teeth. One snap that held many words. The mutt whined, instantly remorseful, and turned tail - quite literally - racing back to its owner without a second thought. Mystery released the energy line. It slipped from his finger like a thread of light, spiralling away to find something else to tangle with. He’d just managed to cover his eyes again when you turned, smiling - only for that smile to fall the moment you spotted his still falling grimace. Oh. Oh noo. Mystery thought, perhaps a bit too smugly. If he had a tail, it might’ve wagged. How hypocritical of him. You immediately began softly scolding him, convinced he’d scared the poor dog because he was scared. Mystery simply began walking ahead, slow enough for you to catch up. You did, naturally. Without complaint, you let him loop your arm through his as you continued your gentle lecture, explaining how animals can sense fear and tension, and how he really shouldn’t glare at dogs, of all things, if he is scared. Mystery hummed noncommittally, eyes half-lidded under his fringe as the two of you passed by the dog and its owner. The mutt lay curled up by the bench now, ears pressed back - but it lifted its gaze as Mystery looked down. He tilted his head, just slightly - enough for his fringe to shift, revealing a glint of golden eye beneath - before nodding once. The dog stared back - and gave a single, slow nod back. A mutual understanding passed between them. Right under your nose. Even if the once-great beasts now barely reached my knees... They weren’t fully loyal to the humans. Not yet. Humans never ceased to amaze him - how easily they could lie to themselves, and worse, believe it. He turned his gaze to you, smiling down gently as he gave your hand a small squeeze. You returned it tenfold, radiant. Seems humans still believed they could tame something far greater than them. Haaah! How amusing.

<><><>

Baby Saja

🍼 Baby honestly couldn’t care less about who, where, or when you were hanging out, chatting with, or even casually touching - so long as he was already there. Already leaning against you, draped over your shoulders, or holding your waist like he belonged there. Which, he did.

🍼 As long as some part of him - elbow, knee, hip, pinkie finger, anything - was soaking in that steady, addictive burn of your wavelength, that perfect flicker between blue and red that made the most enticing shade of violet… Yeah. He was fine.

🍼 Mostly. That colour made his teeth ache. The kind of ache that whispered sink them in, take a bite, mark it.

🍼 But still - Baby could behave. He wouldn’t even bully the poor sucker who got too familiar, like you’d told him not to.

🍼 And you knew that. So let’s run it back again, shall we? Why in the name of sweet, unhinged holy Mary would you pull that stupid stunt?

🍼 Hey! If anything happens, that one’s on you, alright?

🍼 Baby had made it very clear: as long as he’s physically near you, you could be on a stupid date for all he cared. Not that the date would go well, mind you. But still - technicalities.

🍼 Free meal for you in the form of food. Free meal for him in the form of that mouth-watering cocktail of emotion you never seemed to run out of - especially when he teased you, and that heat behind your eyes flared up just right.

🍼 Baby guessed… Bon appétit, then?

You two had just come back from Baby’s solo photoshoot, and he was more than ready to drag you to his room, push you onto the bed, and collapse on top of you like a spoiled feline basking in the warmth of your soul. The plan, however, was interrupted by your insistence that dinner came first. Right. Humans needed to eat more than once every few weeks to stay alive. What a hassle, Baby sighed inwardly, stretching his hands over his head until his shoulder blades cracked with a satisfying pop. His body leaned instinctively towards yours, his right side brushing your left as you walked toward the elevator that would take you up. Not to the heavens, of course. He’d already given that realm the finger a few centuries ago. He had to chuckle a bit under his breath, stopping only when the spike of amusement in your wave caught his attention, and he looked down to meet your curious gaze; eyebrow arched in silent question. Instead of explaining, Baby just flashed you a lazy smirk and casually slung an arm over your shoulder, tugging you close. Unintentionally giving better access for your fingers to find his chin, then his cheeks, which you squished with zero shame. “What are you cackling about, hm?” you asked, your arm slipping around his waist. He didn’t flinch, though every nerve under your touch sparked with something soft and crawling. He still didn’t understand why that sensation unsettled him more than outright pain. He shoved it aside, tuning into the velvet edge of your voice just as you reached the elevator. He pressed the ‘up’ button sharply. “Did being around so many people finally fry your brain?” you teased, tone more curious than concerned. Baby shot you a playful glare, voice raspy. “You wish. I could finally understand what you’re blabbering about half the time.” You let out a dramatic sigh, hand to your heart. “Tragic. I thought maybe, just maybe, you were on your way to genius-level intellect like me—ack! Hey!” You slapped his hand away from your side where he’d prodded your ticklish spot, glaring at him with mock-seriousness. “Watch your fingers, mister.” He raised an amused brow, grin sharp as ever. As the elevator pinged its arrival, he leaned down, voice dipping just enough to make your skin prickle. “Why?” he murmured. “You didn’t complain the last time I touched you... hmm?”

The words dripped with smugness as he sauntered into the Gwi-ma-blessed elevator, shooting you a glance over his shoulder just in time to see your flushed face. He traced the violet line of your wave as it reached for him, trailing with your hesitation before you stepped in beside him. All serious now - but he knew better. You gave him a flat look, raising two fingers close to his face in warning. “We’re going to have a very long talk about those kinds of comments in public.” Baby opened his mouth like he might reply - then promptly bit your finger with a smug little smile. You froze, staring at him like a deer caught in the headlights. And before he could escalate the tension - because gods help you, he would’ve - footsteps echoed down the hallway. Baby’s expression dropped flat, the teasing gone in an instant as he leaned back. You looked confused right before the multiple sets of footsteps became obvious even to your human ears. He glanced up, silently willing the doors to close faster. A thin slit remained - and of course, you had to reach out and press the ‘open door’ button. How thoughtful of you, He rolled his eyes, lips twitching in irritation. Your gleaming wave had cooled to an annoying shade of blue. A family of five stepped in. Baby could feel their overlapping energies that pulsed for the huntresses. You greeted them with your usual smile and soft-spoken manners, and Baby tugged his hoodie up to hide his teal hair, too tired and too irritable to deal with public pleasantries. He bowed lazily after you, stepping aside for the mother with a stroller, the baby's line flailing wildly beyond the barrier. It made Baby grimace. The man followed next, guiding a little girl by the hand. The two of them exchanged polite nods. Baby’s was barely there. The little girl waved, and he returned it half-heartedly. But when he glanced back, puzzled as to why no one else - especially you - was stepping in, it finally hit him. The elevator was full. You were left outside, standing with that teen. “Thank you very much,” said the father, pressing a card against the panel to activate the higher floor. Oh, fuck no- Baby moved instinctively, ready to tag the kid out and step back through, but your hands rose in warning. Your eyes met his with a placating smile before you looked over his shoulder at the parents, “No worries! I’ll get him to your floor safely!” You... will do what? His eyes stared blankly at you as the doors began to close. “Thank you again, dear!” the mother called cheerfully. The last thing you saw was Baby’s deadpan expression. The last thing he saw was your sheepish little grin, right before the doors closed. Oh, you were in for it now. Keeping his composure - barely - Baby leaned against the elevator wall, head dipped low as he began mentally counting down the floors. Mystery would’ve been so proud of his restraint. He ignored the whispered chatter from the parents, and the little girl’s not-so-subtle glances. His eyes locked on the stroller. Inside, a small, soft, utterly helpless baby giggled up at its mother. Unlike the older humans, babies hadn’t attached to anything yet. Its soul line was wild, unclaimed, potent. Should I...? His eyes flashed gold. Canines sharpened slightly. His dormant hunger throbbed behind his temples. The only reason he was even hungry was because you’d left him alone - surrounded by humans - so you could chaperone a teenager instead of waiting with him. His frustration spiked. Baby tilted his head, expression unreadable, pupils thinning as he stared down the tiny creature that cooed up at its mother, oblivious to the apex predator in its presence.

... ... Pfff! PHAHAHAHA! Baby laughed internally. The image of your horrified expression flickered behind his eyes, kindling a small flame in the otherwise hollow space in his chest. His gaze dulled back into its more human shade as the glow vanished. Silly human. Babies' souls weren’t even worth the effort. Too bland anyway. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed inside the suffocating metal box, but the elevator stopped on a few floors - each time with waiting strangers who were gently told, by the parents, that it was full. Baby didn’t say a word. Just stood there, quiet and stubborn, arms crossed and spine pressed against the wall, barely concealing his impatience. So when they finally reached their floor and the doors slid open, Baby wasn’t even surprised to find you already there. What did catch his attention was the way you were laughing - head tilted slightly, eyes soft - as the boy said something that made him flush pink from ears to neck. Baby could’ve ignored it. Should’ve, really. Just walked over, grabbed you by the wrist, and hauled you back into the lift so the two of you could return to the apartment, and pretend this detour into hell hadn’t happened. But. There was something he just couldn't ignore. The shimmer of the boy’s wave slipping across the barrier, trying to brush against yours. Not bold. Just enough to be noticed. It was shy, clumsy adoration. The taste of it sat foul in Baby’s mouth. Sweet, like fruit rotting too fast under the sun. He tasted longing. Hope. He tasted dare. It made him want to shove his hand through the kid’s chest and rip out that fragile, pulsing heart before it got any ideas about beating for you. But that would cause a scene. And scenes meant scoldings from his seniors and, worst of all - your unpredictable response. So. Plan B. Baby’s expression didn’t change as he stepped out of the elevator, hands in the pocket of his hoodie, his walk lazy and casual as he followed the family.

You turned at the sound of the parents’ voices, flashing them that radiant smile of yours, brushing off their thanks with an airy “It was nothing.” They invited you to dinner - blah blah blah - and Baby filed it all under irrelevant noise as he subtly sharpened his nails with a flick and disturbed the parents’ waves just enough to make them both shiver. They looked around, startled, looking for something that was not really there. They gave their quick goodbyes and started to walk away, ushering the teen with them. Baby moved in without hesitation, stepping up beside you and sliding a hand around your waist. His touch was gentle - he didn’t want to startle you - yet firm. You waved at the retreating family, unaware of how tightly his hold lingered. You started to move towards the waiting elevator again, but Baby held you back. Your brows furrowed in confusion as you looked up at him. He didn’t explain himself. Just let his other hand rest on your opposite hip and pull you closer. His head dipped down, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, his fringe messily falling over his face as he pressed his left cheek into your skin. His lips followed - slow, teasing - brushing a kiss along your neck to your ear with just enough pressure to be felt. He ignored the scent the boy had left clinging to you, smothering it with his own presence. And then, just as he felt a ripple in the air that didn’t belong to you, Baby opened his eye and looked straight past you. His gaze locked with the boy’s. That shimmer of hope that had glowed seconds earlier? Shattered. Baby watched the boy’s startled expression fall apart, watched that sugary wave of emotion collapse into bitter disappointment. He grinned - sharp and bright - as he rubbed his cheek more firmly against your neck, his left hand sliding up to rest over the back of your neck, spread his fingers. All the while staring at the teen. The boy didn’t move until his mother called. Then he turned away slightly - but glanced back again. Mistake. Baby was still looking at him. Grinning like a devil. Flipping the boy off with his free hand. The boy visibly tensed, brows drawn tight. But before he could even think of taking a daring step forward, his mother called out for the second time. Now clearly frustrated, the boy’s expression soured - just as Baby fuelled it further by wiggling his fingers lazily in the air, mouthing: Fuck off. All while his other hand kept you snug against him - your body probably assuming he was just being clingy. The teen flushed deep red. His wave trembled - confusion giving way to the first sparks of quiet fury - and then, finally, he turned and walked off when his mother called again. Baby didn’t need to feel her wave to know that the woman wouldn’t call the fourth time. Baby only relaxed when he couldn't properly feel the family's wavelengths in the space. Then, slowly, he loosened his grip, letting you pull away just a bit. You gave him a curious look, eyes narrowing at his still present grin. “Well, you look happy,” you said, watching him with raised brows. You tried to step back further - but he tugged you forward again. Now looming over you, his grin remained, but his eyes gleamed darker beneath it. He reached out and tapped your nose, once, twice, three times. “Oh no,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous, eyes locked with yours. “I’m fuckin’ pissed.” He smiled wider.

[bisexual-horror-fan]

"Textual Relationship." Erik Campbell X FEM! Reader.

Okay, so. I have been posting about my newfound love for Erik fucking Campbell and basically this week I wrote a nearly all of 10K fic about being his unlikely sexting FWB. I had so much fun with this, I seriously love Erik and I think that this will not be the last thing I write of him. I hope everyone enjoys this! I do love, love, love this kind of senario. Who knows this might even get a follow up if people really dig it.

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 9.6K. Erik Campbell X FEM!Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Sending Nudes. Sexting. Anonymous Sex. Dirty Talk. Mentions Of Cuckholding. Banter. Playful Relationship. Friends With Benefits. Teasing. Use Of Sex Toys. Cum Eating. Phone Sex. Mutual Masturbation. Blow Job. Hand Job. Riding. Vaginal Sex. Cunnilingus. Lots Of Compliments. Praise. You Are Both Super Into Each Other. Premature Ejacuation. Semi-Public.

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Isn’t it crazy how a tiny change, one single moment, a slight pitch to the right or left, can cause such a massive and undeniable effect? That is what you have been pondering lately, you had been a little fixated on how one mis-entered number when putting in a new cell phone contact brought about such good, how that screw up introduced you to him. 

It was an average evening, you were going to have a shower and then sort out dinner, you’d selected the clothing you were going to change into, while in just your robe you sauntered into the bathroom. The door closed, you turned on the fan and took out your phone to put a music playlist on, it was at that exact moment you received a text, you click on it and see it is from an unknown number, a simple, “Hey, you busy tonight?” 

Your brows furrow and you type out a response, “Who is this?” 

The shower is turned on, and you let it start to heat up, eyes on the bubbles showing whoever on the other end was in the midst of typing a reply, it comes in a moment later reading, “Hilarious, been two whole days, and you already forgot me?”

You did not give out your number to anyone in the past few days, you were about to type out a response when another text came in before you could, “Maybe you just need a refresher.” 

Next popped up a picture and your breath caught, eyes going wide, the picture in question was a selfie taken using a mirror, the setting was a dark room, the lighting so low it was hard to make anything out in the background. However, who cares about the room when the focus was a close up of his open pants and belt sitting low on his hips. Creamy skin with a ton of tattoos on display, one hand is in his pocket which is pulling his pants down lower to the point you start to see the beginnings of coarse hair over the edge of his underwear. Okay so, one, hot, two, whoever he was trying to reach out to was very fucking lucky, and three, you definitely do not know this guy, but you think you want to. 

You don’t want to lie and lead him on that you are some other person, so you quickly decide a picture for a picture is a fair trade, you open your robe, showing a heathy amount of cleavage and stomach, you take a snapshot of your newly exposed flesh. You look at your work and are satisfied with it, you look hot, no face shown, very minimal risk, so why not take a chance? Then you are sending him a text saying, “Sorry, I don’t think I am who you were meaning to send this to, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be who you are looking for.” 

You send the picture along with it and then drop the robe, you turn on your playlist and get into the shower. Once under the spray of water, what you just did really starts to hit, you just sent this admittedly attractive stranger a somewhat scandalous picture, and it was hot, even if it doesn’t go further, you are glad you did it. You begin to feel pretty turned on, you might have to hop in bed to take care of this before worrying about dinner. 

After you are clean, you get out and start drying off, once wrapped in a towel you pick up your phone and check to seeing the texts you got in response, “Oh fuck.”  And then, “I know I should apologize.” and lastly, “But it’s hard to do it sincerely with a response like that.” 

A laugh breaks out, and feeling bold, you text him back, “Nothing to apologize for.” After that you type out “Got me curious what you were planning to get up to with whoever that first pic was meant for, tell me that, and we’ll call it square.” 

You use your hand to wipe the steamed up mirror enough to show your body but still obscure your face, you snap another pic, it shows you wrapped tightly in the towel, showing off you from shoulder to hips and still very wet, and then you send it off.

The picture comes first less than a minute later, similar to the first but this time it is obvious that he is very fucking hard, the outline of his erection clear, then the text comes, “I think I can do that.” 

A grin stretches over your face, and you abandon the bathroom and the clothing you’d picked out earlier and made your way back to your bedroom. 

Turns out that he thought he was messaging someone he flirted heavily with a few days ago and hooked up with in a bar bathroom, he got her number afterwards, and you guess was just one digit off and ended up getting you instead, crazy how that can happen. He was messaging that person in hopes of meeting up for a repeat session, you express sympathy but also offer some companionship, “I think I can still salvage your night, if you let me.” 

You send another picture of you, this time in bed, it shows a hint of the underside of your tits, as well as the sheets that are pooled around your hips and one hand dipping under the fabric between your legs. 

He takes you up on that with a simple, “Oh my God, yes.” 

Now you take it upon yourself to get the ball rolling, asking, “If you met up with that other person, what did you want to do?”

“Ooh you want to know, huh?” He texts, and you respond with one hand as your other begins to touch yourself slowly, “Badly.” 

“You cuck.” Just like that, a clearer picture of him begins to take shape. You wonder what his voice sounds like, but those words paired together gives you a better sense of him, and most importantly, the tone. You swear you can almost hear the teasing timber he would utter that with; the levity combined with an edge of taunting and slightly degrading? It is honestly exactly the kind of thing to turn you on. He follows it up with, “But I can tell you.”

He indulges you, talks about how he had intentions of getting her into a more private space than their last hook-up, tells you about how he has been thinking so much about giving her the chance to not have to muffle her moans when he is eating her out this time. The image of this hot faceless alternative guy on his knees in a filthy bar bathroom, fingers tangled in his hair as he eats pussy really does it for you. He tells you a lot more explicit details of how he’d fuck her, and you pretend to be in her place, you imagine how it would feel to be on the receiving end of.

You don’t let him do all the heavy lifting, you make your own intentions known and tell him in no uncertain terms what you would like to do to him, building off the framework of what he laid out. This sexting is some of the best you’ve ever had and with a complete stranger no less, though you suppose maybe that is part of it, the taboo nature, the freedom you feel because there is no baggage whatsoever.

Many pictures were sent back and forth that first night, plenty were noteworthy, but you have to admit when you get the first picture of him, hard and fully exposed, it literally made your breath stutter and how many guys can claim they have an honestly breathtaking dick? The proportions are good, but the piercing is what really grabs your attention, you are immediately struck with the craving to run your tongue over it and taste the tang of metal mix with the salt of his sweat. You tell him what you want in explicit detail, trying your best to paint the picture with words of you taking him to the base.

Both of you get bolder still, names are not exchanged, a lot more skin is shown, but neither of you reveal your faces. It ends with you both cumming pretty hard. You show this off with sending a picture of your soaked fingers, wet strings of slick between your spread digits.

He shows off the splatters of cum onto his stomach, and you admire how the pools of pearly white play against the black line work of the tattoo on his stomach, as well as how it drips off that piercing adorning his still mostly hard dick. God, you wish you could make this your screensaver. 

You play it cool, a very casual text is sent by you, “This was fun, we should do it again sometime.” 

In turn, you receive an easy reply of, “Totally, you’ve got my number, hit me up.” 

Soon you are getting out of bed, throwing on clothes and heading out towards the kitchen to make dinner. 

The following day you find him popping into your mind a few times, you feel your mood overall lifted, you hadn’t realized how much you had been missing sexually interacting with another person. You don’t message him yet though, you decide you will when the mood feels right.

You quote, “hit him up”, about a week after the first time, you are getting dressed for work in the morning and while looking over your underwear options an idea strikes, and remembering how well lack of thought worked in your favour last time, you don’t linger, you do.

It doesn’t take that much time, and you leave on schedule, you have more of a spring in your step and wonder when he will take the bite, not if, you are confident it is when. 

Erik finds himself staying up late a lot of the time, whether working or gaming, going out, the usual things that can keep anyone his age from slipping into bed at a decent hour, so waking up in the early afternoon is not uncommon. He rolls over and picks up his phone to find you sent him some messages, with one hand rubbing at his eye the other swipes them open, and he is rather pleasantly surprised to see what you sent. 

The first text reads, “Morning!”

Then comes the pictures. 

You had chosen a matching bra and panty set in a rich dark jewel tone that looks criminally good against your skin and slipped into it. Three pictures were taken using your floor length mirror, your phone purposefully blocking your face, the lighting and angle also helping to hide your identity; the first is of you, head on, tits tilted forward. The next is you on your knees, taken over your shoulder and leaning to show off how amazing your ass looks in the silky fabric. The last is you back on your feet, mostly dressed but, pants are low and shirt pulled up by your other hand not holding your phone to show you are wearing the set under your clothes today.

The last message reads, “You gonna be around later? Was hoping for a repeat of last week if you are up for it.” 

Your phone vibrates in your pocket once, then twice, honestly several times, and when you pull it out you see he has reacted to every picture you sent with exclamation points and black hearts, you laugh lightly thinking of his overall aesthetic, “Very fitting.” 

His texts are as follows, “Holy fucking shit, what a way to wake up.” and then, “Yes, I am definitely going to be around later.” and a picture of his own, he seemingly is still in bed and not wearing much, you can tell how hard he is with just the thin bedsheet covering him. The last text is, “You look so fucking hot btw, oh my God.”

You smile, an appropriate response to getting some unprompted sexy pictures on top of him, sending evidence of just how much he enjoyed your efforts. You type out your response, “You are one to talk, I want to see what is under that sheet, badly. I’m going to be done work in a few hours, that cool?” 

He treats you further when you get another picture in response of that sheet pulled out of the way, hard dick resting over his hip along with a, “Very cool.” 

You laugh, texting, “It’s a date.” You know the rest of the shift is going to drag, too consumed with how excited you are for what is going to happen later. 

When you get home later, you don’t even bother showering, you strip on your way to the bedroom until you are just down to the underwear set you took those pictures in this morning. You know you want to kick this off with another picture, and you’d been thinking hard about this on the way home and knew just want to do. 

Erik is at work, this day of the week is dedicated to walk-ins, no real appointments, so he is just waiting around at the moment, it’s near the dinner hour, he is expecting some people later but for right now he is kind of bored, until your first text comes in that is. His phone lights up and, he clicks on the notification to see what you sent. It is you in your full length mirror again, face out of frame, bra off and on the ground by your feet and an arm crossed over your tits, wearing nothing else but your panties and fuck, he is glad that the shop is empty at the moment. 

The next text reads, “You around?” 

He responds automatically, thumbs tapping out, “I am.”

You text him another picture, this one has your chest totally exposed and your free hand sliding your panties tantalizingly down your thighs, with one single word, “Good.” 

This time you take the lead, you texted him next, “I’ve been thinking about you ever since you texted back this afternoon, I have been dying to get off with you again.” 

You are in your bed now, texting again before he can respond, “Last week was a ton of fun, but I want to ramp it up, if you are into it.” 

The next picture Erik gets from you takes him from being half hard to completely erect, it’s you holding a rather sizeable dildo; realistic, prominent veins, and he has the first partial look at your face, just your chin and mouth, tongue out and teasing the tip of your toy. 

He makes the picture full screen, taking in the sight of that perfect looking wet mouth, your soft pink tongue, and wishes he was there in place of that toy. The very thought of the slickness of your spit, your warm breath, God, just the heat of your mouth would feel like heaven, he is sure. He responded, with a very enthusiastic, “I am very into it.”

You are torturing him, you have been talking about how much you want to taste him, how badly you want to be filled.

You had taken a few more pictures of you blowing the toy, still focused on the lower part of your face and the anonymous aspect is very much doing it for both of you, he loves that he knows what you look like with drool down your chin but has never seen your eyes, and you love that fact as well as showing off for him. 

He is aching in his jeans and dying for relief, he hasn’t sent any pictures himself yet tonight, still sitting in the shop and fully dressed, but he has been typing out responses agreeing with every single thing you’ve been saying and talking about how he is sure it would feel incredible to slide as deep as he can into your mouth. 

You ramp it up further, taking him by surprise, sending your very first video, he clicks on it quick as he can and as it starts to run he sees that you have secured the suction cup base of your dildo to a hardcover book. He watches with rapt attention as you swing one leg over, line it up and then start to slide it inside of you. The sound is obscene, he can fucking hear how wet you are, but more than that he can hear you moan out at the satisfaction of being filled. Once you settle down and have it fully inside of you, he can make out your breathy, “Oh my fucking God, yes-” 

You start to bounce up and down, he makes it exactly three rolls of your hips before he decides fuck it, he is taking his break now. He grabs the sign that declares, “Be back in twenty.” and hurriedly tapes it to the glass front door and locks it. He makes a beeline for the bathroom and locks himself inside, he had still been watching, phone in hand and eyes glued to the screen, losing his mind at how hot the visual of your soaked cunt taking well moulded silicone. Erik gets his belt and pants open, intent on sending you something back for that. 

You pause your riding when you hear your phone ding, you scoop your phone up and see he responded, you are greeted with the words, “You’re killing me.” With a picture of one of his hands gripping the base of his very hard dick. His pants are slung low again, he is leaning against a sink and the lighting is low with a red tint, your mouth is watering. Before you respond to that, he sends his own video, the text reads, “A video for a video seems fair.” 

You click on the video, and it is a blissful minute long video of him stroking his dick, you can hear his heavier breathing, the slight jingle of his belt buckle from the rough movements of his hand and of course, the sweetness of the sound of skin on skin. 

It is on. 

Your next one is you riding the dildo, dirty talking in between moans about how fucking hot he is and how good this feels, but that you are positive that he would feel better. 

The next video he sends you into overdrive, it opens with him spitting into his hand and then wrapping it back around his shaft, he strokes himself as he admits, “God, you know I’m at work right now? Fuck, couldn’t focus at all-” He huffs out a breath and confesses further, “-made me take my break early, you’ve got me jerking off in the bathroom right now-” 

Your hips pick up the pace, fucking yourself rougher, fingers swirling over your clit as you watch the video, listen to his filthy words, “-who can sketch when all I can think about is you riding me?”

Just listening to him is getting you close, you hold out and soon as you are done watching his video you set your phone back up for the big finish. Your hips roll, you moan out as your hand works, “So-sorry for taking you away from your work, bu-but M’ close-” 

A broken gasp as you manage to get out a little more praise, “-seriously you are so fucking hot, I can’t last, fuck! Ahhn I’m gonna-” 

You capture it beautifully, managing to get all the clear detail in your low bedroom lighting, the shudder of your thighs and how your pace stutters, moaning out weakly as you tip over the edge and your orgasm sweeps through you. Somehow you manage to ride through your high, shaky, uneven movements, stars bursting behind your eyelids as you think of your swollen walls wrapped around him as you cum. 

Once the pleasure finds it’s natural end, your hand falls away, and you sit there with the dildo still inside for a moment. You are panting, still coming down from your orgasm, after another few seconds, you lift off the toy, letting the camera on your phone capture all the excess wetness that leaks out and runs down the toy. 

You stop recording, and you send it off, you flop down and wait eagerly for his response, which you get in just a few minutes, right when your breathing comes back to normal, only for the video he sent to steal it again. His video is much shorter, about thirty seconds long, but the best one so far, incoherently moaning out a curse as he cums all over his own fingers. 

Honestly, even though you just came the sounds he makes when he is cumming are getting you going again, you are so going to jerk off to that video on loop again when you regain a little strength. 

With another flash of inspiration, you remove your toy from the book cover and bring it up, you start to clean it up with your mouth; you took a picture of the soaked toy resting on your cheek, your tongue lolling out and clearly dripping with your own creamy slick, combining it with a text, “Oh my fucking God, how are you this hot? Wish I was there to help you clean up.” 

His own response comes back with, “I’m hot? Have you seen you? Also serve return, I bet you taste amazing.” 

The texting continues on for a while, you are into the fact he would love to help you clean up and wants you there to do the same, you thank him for helping you out and for all he shared, and he thanked you for making his night at work a lot more interesting. He gets a walk-in and has to get to work, and you go for a shower and to figure out your dinner, and the conversation stops for the night. 

This situation keeps going as is for a few weeks, at least once a week, either initiated by you or him, a quick check in with a, “You busy?” accompanied by a risky picture leading to a heavy sexting session, pictures and videos exchanged where you both get off spectacularly. You both have a good sense of when works in each other’s schedules and when the other person is normally busy, the times you catch each other at a bad moment you find yourselves prioritizing finding space to make up for it as soon as possible. You think that you are a tad addicted to these sexting sessions, and you have a sneaking suspicion that he is too. 

The times you text after a session become longer and at times you are texting even when you aren’t being nasty and sexual with each other, you learn small details, like some music he likes, that he is a tattoo artist, his brother has a pet turtle that is always getting lost. You still haven’t seen each other’s faces, you don’t know each other’s names, you still like those small things and get off on the anonymous nature. 

While in mid-session while in bed, a vibrator in your hand and pressed between your thighs and your other hand holding your phone, in the middle of typing out a response to your sexting buddy when your phone starts ringing. You are so shocked that you nearly drop your phone, the feeling increases when you see that he is the one who is calling you. It has been a while since you had ramped it up, it has been weeks of pictures, voice notes, and videos, but you’ve never actually talked on the phone, the idea of it is exciting enough that all nerves are forgotten and you answer. 

“Hello?” Jesus, you didn’t mean to say it so breathy, but you can’t help it, with how turned on you are, the toy still running and how good it feels. 

“Hey-” Oh, thank God, he sounds pretty out of breath too, a small moment before he says, “-I just really wanted to hear you.” 

Fuck, you feel a surge of arousal and you want to whimper in response. He continues, “I love the videos and shit we do, but there’s this uhm, disconnect right?” 

You know exactly what he means, you film the video, send it, he watches it, records the response and then sends his, the process is hot and fun, same story for voice notes, but it does take a bit of time and definitely creates a disconnect. 

“I was thinkin’ this could maybe bridge the gap.” You get it totally, have some more immediacy, can respond in real time and also not have to fuss with your phone while jacking off, instead you can just talk. “Not all the time but-”

You breathe out and finish his thought before he can, “Sometimes. Yeah, I’m with you.” 

“Good.” He responds and then there is this moment where it sinks in, you are both on the phone together, just listening to each other breathe and you know what the other person is doing. He is fucking his well lubed fist while you are grinding your clit against candy coloured vibrating silicone. You’ve never spoken like this, and you think he is having the same realization, he must have just called you on impulse, you are thankful he took that first step; to show appreciation for how thankful you are, you figure you should break the ice properly. 

You turn the toy up and the moan that spills out in response is automatic, “Oh God-” and you can hear his own breath catch, you squirm your hips and hit a particularly good spot that makes you whine slightly; that gets a good moan from him, and it really starts rolling. 

“Jesus Christ, the sounds that you are making.” He groans, and you let out this sound that strikes somewhere between a half laugh and half a moan, and he finds it gorgeous, “You can thank the vibrator I am using, ahh-” A harsh inhale in you say, “-you sound so good too.” 

“Yeah?” There it is, that teasing tone, that one that you knew he was capable of that first time you were texting, that same one that does you in and ruins you so perfectly. You confess this next part broken only by a few moans, “Yeahhh, I swear, ohh, guys who are too quiet are such a fucking turn-off, bu-but ah! The stuff you send? Perfect to get off to.” 

“Couldn’t agree more, what we’ve been gettin’ up, ugh, to has kinda ruined me for regular porn for the time being.” His own admission fuels this all a lot further, because you’ve done the same thing, traditional porn that isn’t stuff he has sent you has very little appeal currently. You normally think about him being physically with you, but that is a Hell of a lot easier with him in your ear like this, you could imagine him in bed beside you as you both play with yourselves, or better yet, have him play with you. 

In a few short minutes of losing yourself in the fantasy, with a few more things said back and forth, accompanied by a whole lore more moaning you can feel the pressure building low, and you choke out, “God, M’ getting close over here-” 

“Same, fuck, I’m almost there-” He sounds so unbelievably hot when he is near the edge, you wonder briefly if he thinks the same about how you sound, but he keeps talking and your mind goes blank, “C’mon, I want to hear it, fucking do it, cum.”

It wasn’t a question, it had a harsher edge, you’d land it more in the camp of being a command, your eyes squeeze shut as you focus on the idea of him holding the toy to you, of him using it to get you off, and you are done for. You cum so hard that you cannot contain your moans and midway through your own peak you can hear him reach his own end, the broken off curse sounds so good you wish you could make it your text tone. Once you’ve both ridden out your respective highs, you turn your toy off and put it aside, laying back to relax.

The come down is quiet, just the pair of you connected on the phone and panting, feeling amazing. You get an idea and pick up your phone, you snap a quick picture of the lower half of your face, a flirty smile as well as your slick toy resting on your chest, you send it off, and you can hear when he opens it up half a minute later. He laughs, sounding clearly delighted, “Nice picture.” 

“Thanks, thought you might like to see the aftermath.” You sigh, and he says, “You guessed right, here, give me a second.” 

In a few seconds time, you have a picture of your own in your inbox, him shirtless with cum splattered on his stomach again, it reminds you of that first night from over a month and a half ago, and you smile at the memory. “Very nice, I love these pictures, the cum plays great off your tattoos.” 

He laughs a little more unsure, “Thanks?” 

“It’s a compliment, that’s good praise right there! Appreciate it!” You protest so fervently he belts out a laugh, and the conversation continues on for a while longer, playful banter that flows like water, with a complete and comfortable ease. Twenty minutes flies by before you say, “Well, I’m gonna go, but we should call like this again.” 

He agrees, you can hear the smile in his voice, “Yeah, soon.” 

“Totally.” You confirm, and before you go, you realize something and so you say, “Wait.” 

“Yes?” He asks, and you say, “We haven’t shared names so far and that is fine with me, I know why, but we are deep enough in that I think we should have something to call each other, right?” 

“Oooh, you think were there in our relationship?” He teases, and you laugh, “I’d like to think so, but it’s more that I want to have something to moan when I’m cumming for you.” 

“You strike a compelling argument.” He hums, and then says, “I’ll trust you to come up with something adequate if you trust me to do the same.” 

Eye for an eye, how very like you both, you tell him, “I think I can get behind that, thanks again for the great time, night.” 

“Night.” He returns before you hang up.

The phone sex enters the regular rotation, it has really improved your dynamic, and honestly your life, you feel less stressed, more relaxed, overall mood completely improved.

After that first phone call, the non-sexual communication becomes more frequent, you ask him for some music recommendations and pass some back, a few normal pictures are sent, and casual conversation struck, you feel like you are getting to know him better in the times between you are getting off together. A perfect example is you sending a picture of your hand curled around a coffee once you’ve gotten to work, complaining of the long day ahead and him responding, “Least your nails look cute, new polish?” 

Since the advancement of the phone calls, you can hear how he’d say it, causing a smile to paint your face as you type out a response, “It is, you want to know the name so you can paint yours to match?” 

You joke a lot and have gotten very comfortable teasing each other, part of it is because it is fun, and part of it is to cover your ass just a bit, you think he looks great with his nails painted, you wish he’d indulge in it more but asking for that? Feels a shade too far, a little too intimate for what you are. One of the most frequent pictures you get from him, (when he is clothed), is whatever sketch he is working on, and you love seeing his art and whatever the current project is. He has a great handle on perspective and clearly knows his wheelhouse, if it wasn’t overstepping and would ruin this whole thing you think you’d like and be proud to get a tattoo done by him.

After another lazy afternoon conversation, the conversation was centred again on what you’d both been listening to, you had been cleaning earlier and listening to a song he’d sent and were just complimenting him on his good taste, trying out that nickname you’d been contemplating for a while,  “Seriously, how you find such good stuff, music man?” 

The response was immediate, ignoring the majority of your sentence and focusing on the last two words, it wasn’t even a text, he sent a voice note, his tone incredulous as he inquires, “Music man? Do I give Broadway vibes?”

You laugh and send your own voice note in response as you defend yourself, “I mean, you are pretty dramatic, but ignoring that, you say you aren’t a Broadway guy, yet you picked up that was a musical theatre reference right away.”

“It isn’t like it’s a deep cut!” Comes his reply that makes you laugh even harder, before sending back, “You are never beating the theatre fan allegations, I am sorry.” 

“Goddamnit, okay so, forgetting all that, you think music man is the best nickname you can come up with?” He asks and, you return, “I think it fits a lot better than just calling you the name of some musical artist or band, it is more all encompassing, and with how much new stuff you’ve been turning me onto it makes sense.” 

“You talk about me like I’m a drug dealer for music.” It is said jokingly, but it has an undercurrent of fondness. 

“I think that’s apt, you’re my music man.” You coo the last two words teasingly, thinking to yourself that you are going to try moaning it out later and see if you can’t change his mind, or at least make him laugh, probably the ladder. 

True to your word, later on you do try that, in the heat of the moment, the pair of you touching yourselves while on a phone call you moan it out and that causes you both to break down laughing and halts things for a minute. He manages to get out between laughs, “God, you’re the worst! Totally got the drop on me. I am vetoing, music man is a non-sexual nickname, only! Got it?” 

“Got it.” You giggle and soon find your rhythm together again. You know it is all fine because he is nice enough to send you a special video after you’d both gotten off the phone call. He had been using a toy himself, one he bought a bit ago, said he was inspired by your ample toy collection you love to show off to him, and so he took a video of him lifting the fleshlight up and off, letting the messy cum pour back out onto his mostly hard dick. 

Your response is simple, an easy joke typed out of, “Hey, so can I eat the cum out of your fleshlight or-?”

“Oh my God, you are such a freak.” You can hear how he’d say it, and you tap out, “You love it <3.” 

“True, it’s one of your best qualities.” You knew it. 

You had been doing this song and dance for nearly three months, and you are doing your best to not question your arrangement’s longevity, just happy it is still going, why ruin a good thing by overthinking? Both of you have great sexual chemistry and are still having a great time, so on it goes, unquestioned. 

It was a Saturday night when the change happens, you had been busy and hadn’t gone out in a couple of weeks, you were going to have a good time, some drinks, maybe take a few risky semi public pictures and send them off to your sext buddy, it’ll be fun. You come home from work, have a shower, then take some serious time to get ready, go out for a late dinner, and after that you head to a cool sounding bar you’ve heard hyped up. 

Upon arriving you see the place is about three quarters full, seems to have a good vibe, you make your way up to the bar, take an open stool and pick up a drink menu to see the specialty cocktails they have on offer. You are humming to yourself, some song that he sent to you has been stuck in your head all week, debating whether you want to commit to a vodka or whiskey based drink when your phone vibrates on the bar top. You glance at the phone screen and see that he texted you, a small smile crosses your face as you scoop up your phone and swipe on the notification to see, “Work is dead as shit, I am getting the opportunity to bail early, what’s going on with you?” 

“Went out for dinner, just grabbing a drink at a new bar.” You type out your response and the bartender finally addresses you, another quick glance at the menu, and you pick whiskey for the night, he steps away to make your drink as your phone vibrates again. He texted back, “You know, that is a great idea, I might go out for one or two myself before I go home.” 

With a grin, you respond, “If you strike out, you want to hook up later?” 

The bartender sets the drink in front of you as his response arrives, “Absolutely.” 

Something fun to look forward to, and even if he meets up with someone, hey you might be able to sweet talk him into sharing dirty details later, sounds like a win-win to you. Picking up the cool glass, you take a sip and find that yes, the drink is very good too, honestly this is going to be a fantastic night, you can just feel it. 

You enjoy the atmosphere, the music, your drink and the general din of the people in the bar. After a little time you debate texting a picture of your drink, or better yet, slipping off to the bathroom to take something much more risque’ to send off. Until someone else walks up beside you at the bar to order, you glance briefly for a moment, or you mean to, until your eyes land on him, then you can’t look away. 

There is absolutely no fucking way, I mean what are the chances? It can’t be him but also, it has to be. You have gotten so many pictures over the past few months, you haven’t seen higher than the lower half of his face, that matches though, the septum piercing, the facial hair, that mouth; you have become pretty intimately familiar with the rest of him too. He is in a black t-shirt and pants, leather jacket slung over the empty stool between you both, you scan his arms, and you know those tattoos very well, had seen them in so many pictures it is crazy. 

He hasn’t said anything yet, you are sure it is him, but if he speaks then that will really seal it, make it undeniable, you still can’t buy it because just, what are the odds? You and he both ending up beside each other in the same bar on the same night after all that has happened? It is just too good to be true, as much as you wanted it to be, you had never allowed yourself to seriously hope that it could. You never suggested meeting up in person for a few reasons, one, you were worried your chemistry might not transfer to real life and would ruin such a good thing, and two, you assumed you weren’t in the same town, the same area code doesn’t promise that afterall.

Your eyes tear away to focus on your drink, you take another drink and the bartender comes back, you feel brief hope as you listen up, poor you though; he must be a regular here, because without having to ask a drink is placed in front of him. He picks it up, and you are worried he is about to step away, so with another swallow of your drink to give yourself some courage you turn towards him to see he is already looking at you. 

The intense eye contact is maintained. 

Silence hangs for a long moment. 

You speak first, more confident than you thought yourself capable with the nerves twisting your stomach up, “Hey music man.” 

Eyebrows raise slightly, lips part, complete surprise overtaking, a shake of his head as he speaks, “No fucking way.” 

You smile and laugh lightly as you shrug, “I was thinking that very thing the second I saw you.” With a nod, you gesture to the stool next to you his jacket is still laying on, and he removes it, sits down before he puts it over his lap, and he speaks again, “No seriously, I was looking at you thinking how familiar you looked and wasn’t sure, but I didn’t want to assume-”

“And look totally stupid if you were wrong, right?!” You finish his thought and both of you share a laugh, he responds, “Fuck, exactly!

An hour passes with total ease as you talk, you go over the fact that you both lived in the same town this whole time without realizing it and apparently never crossing paths, the insane odds of this happening, but that you were both glad it shook out this way. You talked about the fact his tattoo shop was on this street, you talked about how near where you lived, and where your job was, a few other things and honestly, you felt good, the energy is managing to carry over to real life, thank God. 

Soon you say, “Oh, we should probably actually exchange names now, right?”

He nods and says, “About time, right? I’m Erik.” 

You tell him your name and hold your hand out, he takes it with a chuckle, and you shake hands, saying in a light tone, “So nice to finally meet you.” 

“Couldn’t agree more.” He responds.

You can’t look away as you both talk, you were totally right, he is very hot, the kind of messy “I don’t care” quality to his hair, his blue eyes, his casual body language, you are very down bad. On top of that, it is fulfilling to get to see the whole picture and talk like this. You wonder if he thinks the same thing about you, is he pleased with the whole picture now that he has it?

After much more conversation, another drink each, much lighter and looser the conversation takes the natural and expected turn, you say, “Sooo, I don’t live that far away.” 

“Smooth.” He jokes with a grin, and you nudge his shoulder with yours, “Asshole. You are just as much of a dick in person as on the phone.” 

“I think you love it, and besides I can’t help it, getting to see your reactions in person? I can’t pass that up. You are just too easy.” He defends, and you take your in as you say in a flirty tone, “You have no idea how easy I can be.” 

He stops leaning on the bar as he leans just a little closer into you instead, eyes clearly raking over you, “I think I might have some idea after all this time, not like I’m much better though.” 

Next, you let your hand fall to his knee and squeeze as you say, “I was gonna say, you did kick this whole thing off.” 

He scoffs, “Ah the ol’ you started it argument, I’ve been a fan of it since childhood, you really can’t beat it.” 

“To be clear, I’m glad you started it, but come on, you have to admit it’s a lot easier to initiate on the phone. You send a dirty pic and the ball is rolling.” You tease, and he hums in agreement, his hand comes down to meet yours on his knee, you lift it, he initiates your fingers twining and tangling together, he retorts in that tone that you’ve become so familiar with over the phone, “So go to the bathroom and send a picture while you are in there, obviously.” 

You laugh, your head pitching forward slightly, “God, you are so brilliant, how did I never think of that?” 

His hand that isn’t holding yours closes around his glass, he takes a drink, and you take that moment, your hand squeezes his as you say after another moment, “After everything, aren’t you dying to know how it would actually be?” 

His drink is set back down. 

“If we really fucked?” He asked it a lot quieter, you look up and there is this change in the air, you had felt the tension slowly building over the entire conversation with him, you had both started to get closer, touchier, feeling one another out. You’d have to be stupid to not see where this was inevitably going, you get it, you are now sure that neither of you wanted to assume anything or jump the gun, but it’s painfully obvious you both want this, badly. 

This whole time, you have been doing a lot of talking, and you love talking to him, getting to know him has been amazing, but you are in person now, before you didn’t have this option, but now you do. Since this thing began you both continue to escalate, and you figure that now it is your turn again, your other hand comes up to the back of his neck, you tug him down and you kiss him. 

The response is immediate, he kisses you back in a way that shows that he has been craving this just as desperately as you and for just as long. Your fingers run through the hair at the nape of his neck, and you pull him just a little closer as his lips part and with the smallest hint of tongue he draws a quiet sound from you at the shock of arousal it delivers. Yeah you cannot continue this here. 

You pull back, dropping the volume of your own voice, lips two inches apart as you answer his earlier question, “Yeah.” 

The remainder of your drinks are abandoned, you had already paid and off you go, your purse slung over your shoulder and his leather jacket is thrown on as you head out the door. The trip to your place was swift, hand in hand, you are glad you lived so nearby and shortly you were inside and getting your shoes off. The trip to your bedroom is slow going, now that you were away from prying eyes you were back on each other, he initiates it this time, kissing you before you could move away from the door. You return his efforts, dropping your purse to the floor and shrugging out of your coat, you’ll deal with them later.

As the kissing continues, you are helping him out of his jacket, walking backwards as you try to steer you towards your bedroom. 

You are kind of losing your mind during this, all the build up and anticipation, the worry this wouldn’t live up to the hype was very real, but turns out the fear was unfounded, this feels incredible. His jacket is tossed on the couch on the way, you manage to pant out between kisses, “Down the hall, here-” 

A nod before he kisses you again, following as best he can but clearly much more caught up with the ongoing make out, until you pull away with a laugh and take him the last bit of distance to your room, the door is opened, and you push him inside. He takes a brief look around, giving the normal customary compliment, “Nice room.” 

“We can talk room decor later, get on the bed.” You gesture to the plush and soft furniture as you quickly turn on your bedside table lights. He does as he is told, even as he comments, “Awfully bossy in person.” 

“Yet you are still so obviously hard, I could get bossier if you want, like how about you start getting some of those clothes off?” As you say this, you start to strip, there isn’t much to tonight’s outfit, you peel off the tight dress and toss it aside, leaving you standing there in the panties you picked out tonight, you’d intended to show them off to him later, now though he is going to be able to take them off of you.

“Oh my God.” His eyes were fixed on you and yes he was rushing to get his own clothes sorted out, shirt taken off and thrown aside, you start to cross over to him as he begins to open his belt and pants. You get onto the bed and start to help him, soon as his pants are down his knees you swing a leg over and straddle him, you’ve been waiting long enough, and you don’t want to wait much longer. 

Your lips capture his and his hands are on your back, pulling you close as can be so you are chest to chest, your tongue slips into his mouth and God, you are so far gone for him. You already thought he was mouth-wateringly hot, totally your type, but knowing he is just as into you, and it feels this good, this easy to actually be this way in real life, you know this is going to feel amazing. 

A move of your hips, you grind down and feel him through the thin remaining layers you have on and you both gasp out a moaning into the kiss, he grinds up to meet you and fuck, you need him already. “Erik, been dying to ride you, can I?”

“Yes, holy shit-” He agrees, and he reaches down, fumbles to get his underwear down, and you pull your panties to the side, he holds himself steady, and you line yourself up; his tip kisses your soaked hole, and fuck, you can feel his piercing, there is no way you are having him any other way than raw. You take a second to grind on his shaft, to test how he feels sliding against your dripping slit and your aching clit, and you could get used to that.

You wait for just a moment more, taking a deep breath before you drop and begin to take him. Sharing a moan between you both until you come to rest with him fully inside, you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply again. 

The make out picks back up, messy tongue kisses, needy as you start to ride him, rocking against him and him working with you. He can’t stop his hands, they slide up down your back and pause at your hips to squeeze, before resting on your hips and helping you move better, you rock down as he fucks up. The most common thing you manage to moan out between kisses is his name, you love that you know it now, the taste of it on your tongue is addicting, getting to pant it while you fuck him raw is setting you completely on fire. 

He is breathing your name in kind, the kiss is broken, his head tips back, and you take the chance, your mouth attacks his neck, the salt of his skin invades your senses, and your arms unloop, wanting to touch him again. Your hands start to explore like his had, they run up his sides and your fingers brush over his nipples, and he stiffens in response. You bite the side of his neck gently as you start to play with his piercings in earnest, he acts like he has been shocked from the way it rocks his body. You pull back enough to look at his face, pausing your riding as you check in, “This okay? Do they hurt?” 

He laughs lightly, “No-ohh, they hurt to get sure, bu-but now, oh fuck-” Erik releases the best groan he had all night and your blood sings, you crave to hear that again. You tug carefully, ”Is it good?” 

You asked it in a teasing voice, and you think you could feel him throb inside you, his hips thrust up involuntarily, oh this is going to be so fun. Starting to ride him again, harder, the sound of skin on skin becoming much louder, you twist and toy with the metal as he chokes out, “Yeah, s��fucking good-”

“God, they seem, ahh, really sensitive.” You comment, eyes fixed on his face as you pinch both of his nipples between two fingers, and he nods, an incoherent moan and this is so good. You are much more concerned with this, with ruining him than cumming yourself, you push him onto his back, and he allows this, he falls easily, and you take in the sight of him under you. Adjusting yourself, you lean forward, hips continuing to work as you kiss down his chest, your tongue circles around one nipple, and he inhales sharply, the sound drives you forward. Your lips close around it, teeth sink in, and you nip lightly, and you aren’t sure you heard him right the first time so you do it again and yes, you are able to confirm he whines. 

You don’t think you’ve heard him sound this needy, you bite harder, he exhales harshly, before you are switching to the other side, and he says, “Wa-wait, fuck, hold on-” 

Now even though this is your first time fucking, you know that tone, can tell from all those videos, voice notes and phone calls, from all the months of experience, he is getting close. The thought of him being so into you playing with his piercings that it is threatening to make him cum early is making you melt, you have decided that is all you want. 

You continue to tongue and bite, speeding up your riding, and he lets out this weak laugh, like he is trying to play it off, but quickly it bleeds, shifts into him moaning brokenly, “No-ohhh, seriously, if you don-don’t, sto-op, I’m gonna-” 

He didn’t have as good as of a grip as he thought he did, his end rockets through him, he wraps his arms around you and fucks up into you all the way, a certified whimper as he cums into you. He holds you to him as he unloads, and you feel the slick warmth, you shiver and feel immense satisfaction, mouth letting go of skin and metal as it curves into a smile. His arms loosen, and he sighs into your ear, you sit up, looking down at him, his face is flushed, and it has spread down his neck and chest, he is panting, eyes closed, hair even messier and a little sweaty. With a grin, you ask him, “You still with me, Erik?”

“Yeah, I’m still with you.” He groans, hands rubbing over his eyes, and then when they move, his lids crack open and blue eyes meet yours as he huffs out with a half smile, “Fucking bitch.” 

You laugh, light and warm, “What? Wasn’t that good?” 

A hand runs through his hair as he admits, “Fucking, of course it was! But this is our first time fucking after how much lead up? I busted in like five minutes, you didn’t even cum, it’s embarrassing.” 

You are laughing from his tone, how annoyed he sounds, he is unfairly funny, you reassure, “Hey it’s fine, I kinda purposefully milked it outta you, no hard feelings, you’ll get me next time, right?”

“Are you planning on kicking me out already?” He asked, and you shrugged, “No I wasn’t, why? You wanna sleep over?” 

“Sure, but I’m getting you off before that.” His hands close on your hips, and he lifts you up and manages to toss you onto your side next to him on the bed, “Woah!” 

His takes the remainder of his clothes off, pants and underwear left on your floor before his hands rip your underwear off leaving you both completely bared. His hands are on your waist, and he adjusts you so you are on your back, and he moves down, before you can protest or really say much of anything he is on his knees on the floor, pulling you nearer and putting your legs over his shoulders. Erik’s tongue swipes up the centre of your folds, and you gasp, so he isn’t afraid of his own cum, very good to know. Another lick right through the middle, from your hole to up and over your clit, and then he starts to slide into finding his rhythm, you sink into the mattress, a moan spilling out, eyes falling closed. Your hand slides down your body and tangles in his hair, and you are thrown back to that first text conversation, that image that permeated your brain, of the hot alternative guy on his knees, eating you out while you hold his hair, and it makes your clit throb against his tongue. You moan in bliss, disbelief that you managed to get into this position. 

All this from a mis-entered phone number, who would have ever thought?

[5eraphim]

i realize this is sus behavior on my part, but i dont have anyone to tell this to so it's going up on the horny writing sideblog,

i was hooking up with a buddy while visiting Austin a few weeks ago and accidentally had to much to drink (not technically a drink- it was room temp vodka straight up, i couldnt be bothered to make a proper cocktail and i sure as hell wasnt gonna bother him to help me)

and i remember getting freakydeaky for a few hours, then i convinced him to watch princess tutu with me (i really really wish i had taken a photo to savor the memory/prove i got a straight man to watch that show with me, but you just gotta take my word for it, im afraid)

i kinda blacked out halfway through the night and got jumpscared the next morning seeing the safari tab on my phone opened and THIS was what i had opened up + my browsing history from that night 😭

guys help i think i made things weird for him :((

[beloveds-embrace]

(even more designationless!reader…)

The idea had clung to you like a ghost, silent and persistent. A whisper of possibility, a gnawing what if that refused to let go, lurking in the quiet spaces between your thoughts.

It started as an offhanded remark- just a passing suggestion from an Omega medic flipping through your file, his frown deepening at the blank space where a designation should be. He’d leaned in closer, like he was sharing a deep secret even though you’d heard of it before.

“You know, there’s a new procedure. A way to synthesize a scent, balance your hormones. Might help you fit in better.”

At the time, you’d laughed it off, a dry, hollow sound. You were fine. You had learned to live without instincts, without scent cues. You had a pack now- wasn’t that such a wonderful thought? You, of all people, with a pack- and they never made you feel lesser for it.

But still…

Still, you would never stop noticing the way strangers hesitated when they got too close, noses twitching as they tried to find something that wasn’t there. The way some looked at you like you were an anomaly, a hollow space where something vital should be.

The pack never made you feel wrong. But the rest of the world did before and after them.

So, you started actually looking into it. Quietly; and what you found was terrifying.

The procedure wasn’t just some simple injection or pill, wasn’t like the time you got yourself a pheromone perfume. It was invasive- gene therapy, hormone treatments, scent gland augmentation. Synthetic pheromones would be forced into your system, rewriting the very foundation of your body’s chemistry. The risks of rejection and infections were high. The list of potential side effects was even higher- neurological damage, sensory overload, organ stress. Death.

It wasn’t just expensive. It wasn’t just painful. It was dangerous.

And yet, the thought had taken a root far too deep to be simply pulled out.

What would it be like to walk into a room and be known? To have a scent that soothed your pack, something that would mark them the way they marked you with touches and borrowed clothes and lingering words? The pheromone perfume had been temporary, but this- it could be permanent. A cure.

It took weeks before you built up the courage to bring it up to your pack; weeks of staring at catalogues and brochures, google searches all on the costs, the risks, the very, very few who had tried it.

Sitting in the nest one evening, curled between them, you hesitated before you gathered enough courage and spoke. “I found a way to get a scent.”

The reaction was immediate, though you weren’t surprised. They’ve likely heard of the procedure before.

Johnny turned his head sharply from where he had been sprawled beside you, brow furrowing. Kyle, who had been playing absently with your fingers, froze. John, seated at the edge of the nest with a book in his lap, went still. And Simon- Simon growled. A low, rumbling thing that vibrated through your ribs, curling up inside your chest like a warning.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Your throat went dry. “You know about that procedure, right?” your words were careful, hesitant. “It’s… expensive. But it can create a scent for me. A real one.”

Silence. Then-

“No.”

John’s voice was sharp, absolute. Not angry, not yet. But firm in a way that brooked no argument. A command all on its own.

Your stomach twisted, and a deep frown etched itself onto your face. “I just thought-”

“No,” Simon repeated, harsher this time, sitting up straight. His eyes burned into yours, dark and furious. “Who the fuck put that idea in your head?”

You faltered, the hesitant hope in your chest slowly fanning out. “It’s not- I wasn’t—”

“You dinnae need fixing, hen.”

“It’s not about fixing,” you argued, pulse quickening. Why weren’t they giving you a chance to explain? “It’s about- I don’t know, being normal? Being able to-”

“You are normal,” Kyle interrupted, his voice thick, pain threaded around each word. “Christ, love, what made you think you weren’t?”

Frustration bubbled up, clogging your thoughts. “You don’t get it,” you snapped, and the words poured out, raw and aching. “None of you do. You’ve never had to live without it. Never had to wonder if you belonged because you don’t have the one thing that ties you to everyone else!”

John’s exhale was sharp, scrubbing a hand over his face and beard. He looked at you- really looked at you, and his face tensed even further. “And you think putting yourself through hell to force a scent into your system is the answer?”

You hesitated, exposed under their scrutiny, laid bare even in spite of the layers you were wearing.

“You’d risk your life for this?”

“People go through hormone therapy all the time-”

“Not like this,” Kyle shook his head, immediately cutting that line of thought off. “This isn’t just hormone theraph. This is gene-altering shit. You read the side effects, love? The risks?”

You had. And now, under their gazes, the weight of it pressed heavy on your chest.

Ghost shifted closer, holding your arm, face tight. “You’re not doing this.”

“You can’t just tell me what I can and can’t do with my own body!”

Price’s jaw tightened, eyes dark with something unreadable, something heavy. When he finally spoke, it was rough, edged with the kind of steel that only came from deep, unwavering conviction.

“You’re right.”

For a second, your breath caught, because you hadn’t expected him to say that. Did you-?

“We can’t tell you what to do with your body,” he continued, low but firm. “But we can stop you from hurting yourself. I will not allow you to go through that damn procedure.”

The words hit like a fist to the gut.

Simon exhaled sharply, tilting his head like he couldn’t believe you had even considered it. “You’d put yourself through that- all that danger, all that risk- just to what? Smell a little different?”

You swallowed, and then, after a heavy moment, nodded.

Kyle leaned in, wrapping himself around you, protective. “You,” he hissed. “You think some synthetic, lab-made scent could ever be worth you getting hurt?”

Your throat felt tight, and you looked away, only for Johnny to let out a rough, disbelieving laugh. “Jesus, lass. You think we’d ever want some artificial shite over you?”

You opened your mouth, but no words came. “I just thought… maybe it would make things easier.” You admitted eventually, voice small and weak, avoiding their eyes. You’d thought… it might even make your family care.

Gaz inhaled sharply, like your words had hurt. “Easier for who?”

The question left you hollow, because you knew the answer.

Not for them.

Never for them.

John sighed, rubbing his temples before reaching out, cupping your cheek with one calloused hand and forcing you to look at him. “Love,” he murmured, and his voice had softened now, rough edges worn down to something gentler, something aching. “We don’t need you to smell like us to know you’re ours. We don’t need a scent to claim you, or to carry your scent.” His thumb brushed against your cheek, touch warm. “You’re already part of this pack.”

The weight of his words settled deep in your chest, curling around your ribs, something painful and good all at once.

For so long, you had felt other. Like something was missing. But here, surrounded by them, their warmth pressing into you, their hands grounding you-

You could almost convince yourself you were whole.

Simon let out a slow breath and reached for you, pulling you into his lap with a kind of desperate, hungry care, his arms curling around you like he could somehow shield you from your own thoughts. Johnny pressed against your side, warm and solid, his grip firm where he held onto your wrist. Kyle leaned in, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, and Price wrapped an arm around all of you, anchoring you to them.

And you let yourself believe them.

Omegaverse masterlist

[jmliebert]

Nanami as Your Lover headcanons ♡

the word boyfriend doesn’t do him justice—it feels too light, too casual somehow as he treats you with absolute seriousness

there’s a softness he reserves only for you. whether he’s resting his head in your lap or letting you dry his hair with careful hands, these simple moments feel so intimate for him and for you

you bring him a sense of peace he didn’t know he needed. he quickly discovers that he sleeps best when you’re lying on his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you, holding you close, and the thought do things for him (he falls even harder)

in the morning he pulls you closer in bed, nuzzling into your neck and murmuring about how he doesn’t want to get up just yet

evenings with you have transformed his routine. suddenly, he finds time for the books that have been gathering dust on his shelf, reading while you are cuddling to his side

if there’s something you want to do, Nanami’s always up for it. face masks? horror movies? a random pottery class? whatever it is, Nanami is all in—because it makes his lady happy :’)

his sense of humor is subtle but sharp. he loves when you tease him gently, and you can always catch a faint smile tugging at his lips when you do

has a habit of brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering as he looks at you with quiet adoration

cooking for you becomes one of his love languages. he takes quiet pride in preparing meals for you and feels a deep sense of contentment when you enjoy them (like it or not, but if you would let him, he would feed you gladly)

if you’re stressed or overwhelmed, he’ll instinctively take care of you—running you a bath, massaging your shoulders, or simply holding you close in silence

even more strict about keeping to his working hours—not just for the sake of principle, but so he can return to you sooner

when he has the chance, he waits outside your workplace with a bouquet of red roses in his hand, ready to walk you home or take you to dinner

on more tender nights, you’ll find him kneeling in front of you, his hands on yours, telling you in that velvety voice how much you mean to him, and how he wants you to be close to him all the time

on the surface, Nanami may appears calm and composed, unshaken as ever. but the faint flush that creeps onto his cheeks whenever you're around betrays him in the sweetest way. Gojo, naturally, can't resist saying something like this (with a overdramatic whine): "Blushing, Nanami? Should I feel jealous?"

Nanami isn’t one for public displays of affection. he tries to maintain his composure, even when you sweetness flusters him so much in public. behind the mask of calm, he’s restless, counting the minutes until he can steal you away to a private corner and kiss you hard...maybe squeeze your thigh as well...

however he’s ok with holding hands in public (honestly, it is one of his favourite things to do) plus he occasionally presses soft kisses to your palm which make you melt completely…

unshakeably confident in your relationship. If someone flirts with you, he’s calm (but might be a little bit more possessive than usual in bed that night, even though he knows it's foolish to react that way, but he can't help it)

for him, there’s no one else but you. it’s not that he has to ignore attractive people—he simply doesn’t see them when he’s with you

as composed as he is, the desire he feels for you simmers just beneath the surface. he wants you—badly—but he waits, patient and respectful, for you to be completely comfortable, although is so hard to be patient with you sometimes…

when the moment finally comes, his restraint melts away. he’ll kiss you deeply, savouring the taste of you like he’s been starving, his hips bucking uncontrollably 

he’s a generous lover, a big fan of giving head. nothing pleases him more than leaving you trembling under his touch, as his mouth explores you with relentless precision

he’ll fuck you hard but balance it with tenderness, kissing away your tears and murmuring sweet, reverent words against your heated skin

though sometimes, if the moods takes him, he’s not above whispering dirty, obscene things in your ear while he moves against you. his words sinful, describing in vivid detail how good you feel, how tight you are, and how he can’t get enough of you

adores seeing you in lingerie chosen just for him. the sight makes his gaze darken with desire as his hands and lips worship every inch of you

adores it even more to fuck you hard in it, his hands gripping your hips or ass with bruising intensity. his palm meets your skin in sharp, stinging spanks, the sound echoing alongside your moans, as his breath grows ragged, hot, and heavy against your lips. between desperate, hungry kisses, he huffs into your mouth, his voice low and gravelly, muttering just how irresistible you are and how he can’t get enough of you

afterward however, he’s attentive and caring. he cleans you up, whispers soft reassurances, and holds you close so you feel safe and adored (or dare i say loved?)

when he’s had a little too much to drink, he rests his head on your shoulder, his lips brushing against your neck as he murmurs your name over and over again...

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

hi, you can find more of my works about nanami ♡here♡

also, you can give me some ideas of what else I should write about nanami please! i need some inspo

[science-hoes]

“No more seats, guess I have to sit in your lap.” with andrew cody PUHLEASE QUEEN

Of course my love!!!

—

The only real light in Smurf’s backyard was the glow from the pool lights. Everything had a rippling cyan illumination, masking flushed faces from alcohol and reddened eyes from marijuana.

You’d had a few shots of vodka before you dove into the cold water, washing away your sweat and drinks that had accidentally spilled onto you from drunken partygoers. You stayed under for a minute, opened your eyes, and enjoyed the peaceful quiet. The music and loud voices were only a muffle while you sat at the floor of the deep end, watching the legs of others kick above you to stay afloat. You could stay there for a long time, at least that’s what the alcohol told you.

When your oxygen ran short, you fluttered your legs back to the surface. When you surfaced at the edge of the pool, you were met with piercing hazel eyes. Pope Cody knelt next to the water, his face marble cold in its natural expression of unhappiness.

You raised an eyebrow at him, unsure of why he was waiting for you at the surface. “Something wrong?” You questioned.

His face didn’t change, but his voice gave away the worry that consumed him. “You were under for a long time.”

You wiped the chlorinated water out of your eyes, furrowing your brow. “I was only under for like 30 seconds, Pope. Take a chill pill.” You muttered before swimming away.

Even though the water sloshed around your ears, you heard his response. “It was almost two whole minutes.”

When you exited the pool at the ladder, you snatched a dry towel from the bar. You wrung out your hair first before throwing the towel around your shoulders, not bothering to clear your body of the droplets that raced down your skin.

Deran had coaxed you into one more shot, tequila this time, which you gratefully downed to burn the thought of Pope’s frustration toward you.

You weren’t drunk. You weren’t drunk. You wernt druk. You wert drung.

Your brain was nearly in another dimension when you approached Pope as he sat with impeccable posture in a chair near the pool, eyes trained on the water like he was a damn lifeguard.

He looked so pretty. The way the pool light brought out his freckles, shaded his auburn curls so nicely, and highlighted the veins in his forearms. Without a second thought, you collapsed into his lap.

“No more seats, guess I have to sit in your lap.” You hummed, leaning a head quickly onto his shoulder.

Pope’s entire body tensed, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the arms of the chair. If you were sober, you would have expected him to throw you off him, either onto the concrete or into the pool, without a regard for your wellbeing. If you were sober, you would have expected him to grunt in distaste at the feeling of your wet body on his. If you were sober, you would have expected him to treat you like a pathetic junkyard dog begging for scraps.

But you weren’t sober. And you didn’t give him a chance to react to your presence before your nose nestled into the crook of his neck. “You’re so warm.” You noted as the heat of his freckled skin radiated against yours.

If you were sober, you would’ve noticed just how quickly his burly arms wrapped around your body. If you were sober, you would’ve noticed the shaky sigh of contentment when you began to press drunken kisses against his jaw. If you were sober, you would’ve heard him say, “I got you,” when you shivered in his embrace at the cold evening air. If you were sober…you would’ve felt his painfully hard cock prodding at your ass every time you wiggled unconsciously against it.

You woke up in his bed, under the covers, clothed in a tshirt and boxers that didn’t belong to you. When you turned your head, Pope was lying on top of the covers, hands folded, staring at the ceiling fan. You turned to face him, smiling slightly, and your movement brought his attention to you.

“Did you sleep okay?” He asked.

You smiled and nodded. “Yeah.” You whispered. “Did you put me in these clothes?”

Pope just nodded once. “I didn’t look. Kept my eyes closed. I promise.” His voice was so steady, and you trusted him.

Your hand reached out to one of his folded hands, squeezing it gently. “That’s too bad.” You hummed. “You’re the only person I’d want to see me naked.”

Fortunately, everyone else in the house was gone for work or errands. Because the sounds that Pope Cody drew out of you that morning were animalistic.

[kpoplustzone]

Game of Nine - Twice smut

Jihyo x OC

voyeur, smut, breeding, multiple series, sneaky

FOR COMMISSIONS EMAIL TO epiclude6@gmail.com

My name is CHOI HYUK. I am a 26-year-old Korean who was lucky enough to become the manager of one of the most sexy and successful girl groups in Korea. Twice has been popular since its debut and has exploded in popularity later.

Especially their members who were sexy and charming and millions of people around the world fapped to their pictures and fan cams.

I was not an exception to this, and seeing all nine of them smiling at us, the newly hired manager, was a dream come true. I remember Kiho, another newly hired manager, standing beside me and gulping in a daze, seeing the amount of sexiness in front of us.

All nine of them brought out different kinds of charm for the fans, and seeing them perform for the fans, teasing them, showing just enough so that the men can only dream about their thick bodies.

When Choi Hyuk first joined the team as an assistant for TWICE, he thought he’d landed the dream job. Backstage access, travel, and a chance to work alongside the most admired women in the industry. For the first few weeks, things felt surreal. The members were warm, friendly — Jihyo especially. She had smiled at him often, even remembered his coffee order after the second day. He’d catch her humming during rehearsals, sometimes glancing his way with a nod or playful wink. For a quiet guy like him, it felt like more than just professional kindness. It felt personal.

But then Kiho arrived.

Short, round, always laughing too loud — Kiho had a way of making people feel instantly at ease. The girls loved him. At first, Hyuk didn’t mind. It was harmless. But within weeks, things shifted. He noticed the change in the air. They started calling Kiho cute, playfully teasing him, grabbing his arm, fixing his collar. The same smiles Hyuk once got were now all for Kiho. Even Jihyo — especially Jihyo.

She barely noticed Hyuk anymore. Some days, she wouldn’t even greet him.

He’d watch from the corner of the room as she whispered in Kiho’s ear, giggling, brushing against him like it meant nothing. And Kiho… Kiho lapped it up. He didn’t even try to hide it.

Hyuk never said a word. What would be the point? He was just the quiet one now. The background. The one who blended into walls and got forgotten during group dinners. Still, something inside him simmered — not quite anger, not quite heartbreak, but a slow, twisting burn of being invisible.

Which is why, when he woke up in the back of Jihyo’s RV that afternoon, groggy from a midday nap he hadn’t meant to take, he stayed quiet.

He heard the door shut.

Then footsteps.

Then her voice — that soft, teasing voice she used when she was in the mood to play.

And then he heard Kiho.

Hyuk didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. He stayed hidden behind the thin curtain, barely peeking through, heart thudding in his chest. What he saw made his throat go dry.

Jihyo — pressed up against Kiho. Smiling. Whispering.

And touching him.

Not him. Never him.

But Hyuk couldn’t look away

Jihyo stepped into the RV, the soft click of the door locking behind her. The dim, amber lighting wrapped around her curves like a spotlight, catching the shine on her skin where her crop top clung tight across her chest. Her jeans, stretched smooth over her hips and thighs, made every step a show. She stretched her arms over her head, back arching, giving her assistant a full view — and she saw the way his eyes dropped, slowly, drinking her in like he was starving.

She smirked.

"You’ve been staring all day," she said, voice low, teasing. Her heels clicked softly as she crossed the small space between them, hips swaying just enough to drive a man crazy. "Why don’t you just admit it?" She stopped in front of him, so close her breath warmed his cheek. Her fingers brushed lightly over his collar, dragging down his chest, slow and playful. "You think about me when I’m not around, don’t you?"

He swallowed hard, too stunned to speak.

Jihyo’s eyes flicked down, then up again, watching his reactions with a wicked satisfaction. Her hands slid to his waist, fingers curling around his belt loop, tugging him closer until they were almost touching. "You're easy to read," she whispered. "And honestly… I kinda like it."

What neither of them noticed was the slight shift behind the curtain at the back of the RV. Hidden in the shadows, Choihyuk had woken the second the door opened. At first, he stayed still, groggy and annoyed, but now his eyes were wide, locked on the scene unfolding just feet away. He didn’t dare move. His breath caught in his throat as he peeked through a small gap in the curtain, heart thudding.

Jihyo leaned in again, her lips just barely brushing the assistant’s jaw. "I wonder how long you can hold back," she whispered. "Should we find out?"

She didn’t notice the way Choihyuk’s hand clutched the edge of the couch, or how hard it was for him to stay still. The tension inside the RV was thick, hot, and humming — one assistant frozen under her touch, the other hidden and burning with a mix of jealousy, longing, and something deeper he’d never dared admit out loud.

Jihyo turned to walk away, but before she could even take a full step, Kiho reached out and grabbed her wrist, his grip firm but not rough — just enough to stop her. She turned back to face him, her heart racing in a way that startled her. There was something about the way Kiho looked at her now — something that was no longer just shy admiration, but something much bolder, darker.

"You really think I'm going to let you walk away like that?" Kiho’s voice was low, his words lingering in the air. There was no mistaking the challenge in his tone now. His hand slid from her wrist to her waist, pulling her toward him with a confidence that made Jihyo’s breath catch in her throat. She could feel the heat of his palm through the fabric of her shirt, and the soft pressure of his touch made her pulse race.

Jihyo blinked, her body suddenly responding in ways she didn’t expect. Her skin felt alive, every nerve ignited by the simple, bold touch of his hand. She glanced down at him, her heart hammering in her chest. "Kiho…" she whispered, her voice a little shaky, a little breathless.

Kiho’s hand slid further, just grazing the curve of her hip before sliding around her back. His fingers flexed, pressing her body even closer to his. The warmth of him, the way his chest brushed against hers, made Jihyo tremble, a soft shiver running through her as he leaned in, his lips barely a breath away from her ear. "You don’t have to go anywhere, Jihyo," he whispered, his voice soft, yet filled with an unmistakable hunger.

Jihyo’s heart skipped. She should have pulled away. She knew she should, but every inch of her body was begging her to stay. Kiho’s touch, the way he was looking at her now, with that mix of confidence and desire… It was like a switch had flipped in him. He was no longer the shy assistant. He was a man who wanted her, and he was no longer afraid to show it.

Kiho’s other hand came up, brushing against her cheek, his fingers trailing slowly down her jaw, caressing her skin. She gasped, her body going taut under his touch, the sensation making her whole body tremble. His hand slid lower, ghosting over her neck before landing on her shoulder, his thumb drawing small circles over her skin. The simple, tender touch made Jihyo shudder again, her breath coming faster, deeper.

"You look so perfect," Kiho murmured, his voice rougher now. His hand slid lower, reaching the small of her back, pulling her in even closer. His lips were just a hair’s breadth away from hers now. "I can’t stop thinking about you," he confessed, his breath warm against her skin.

Jihyo's heart raced. Her body responded without thinking, pressing closer into him, her hands clutching at his shirt as if pulling him even closer. She wanted this. She needed this…”

Before she could finish, Kiho’s lips brushed over hers, just a featherlight kiss that made her stomach twist with desire. His lips were soft, teasing, as if waiting for her to respond. She gasped, her body instinctively leaning into the kiss, her lips parting just enough for him to deepen the kiss.

Her hands found their way up to his neck, pulling him closer, desperate for more. The heat between them intensified with each passing second, every touch, every kiss, making her tremble harder under him. Kiho wasn’t holding back anymore. His hands roamed down her body, one sliding to her waist, the other cupping the back of her neck as he deepened the kiss.

Jihyo’s breath was ragged, her body alive with sensations she couldn’t control. Every touch from him sent electric jolts through her, making her skin burn with need. She trembled again, this time more violently, and Kiho noticed. He smiled against her lips, feeling the way her body responded to him. His hands roamed lower, sliding over the curves of her waist, the smoothness of her thighs, exploring with purpose.

In the back of the RV, Choihyuk watched, his breath caught in his throat. His eyes were wide, glued to the scene before him. He had always admired Jihyo, but seeing her like this — vulnerable, trembling, desired — made his heart pound in his chest. He watched as Kiho’s hands traced the curve of her body, feeling like an intruder, but unable to look away. His goddess, the one he had always looked up to, was here, right in front of him, being touched in a way he had never imagined.

Jihyo, completely unaware of Choihyuk's presence, was lost in the heat of the moment, her body pressed tightly against Kiho’s. His hands moved with confidence, each touch pushing her closer to the edge of control. She gasped as he pulled her even closer, his lips trailing down her neck, his hands exploring her body with growing boldness.

Kiho’s lips met hers again, this time with a fierce passion, as if he couldn’t wait any longer. He pushed her against the table, the movement so sudden that Jihyo’s breath caught in her throat. Her body felt like it was on fire, every inch of her trembling with need. And as she clung to him, she couldn’t stop herself from pulling him closer, her body responding to his touch without a single thought.

In the back, Choihyuk could only watch in stunned silence, his eyes wide as he watched the woman he admired more than anyone being kissed, touched, and desired in ways he could never have imagined.

The air in the RV was thick with heat, the moment between Kiho and Jihyo crackling with an electricity neither of them could deny. Kiho, his breath still ragged from the kiss, pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. Jihyo's lips were swollen, her breathing uneven, and it made him smile. He could feel the pulse of desire radiating off her, and it thrilled him.

"Earlier," Kiho said, his voice lower now, each word deliberate as he gently cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her soft skin. "When you were performing… in front of that crowd… You were incredible." He paused, his eyes darkening with something more primal. "You made them all watch. You had them all in the palm of your hand, just… lusting after you."

Jihyo shivered at the words, her body reacting to his touch, her breath quickening. "I didn't think you were watching that closely," she teased, her voice a little shaky, trying to act casual, but she could feel the heat of his gaze seeping into her skin.

Kiho leaned in again, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he whispered, "I was watching every move you made. And they were all just there, watching you, wanting you… But only I get to touch you like this." His words were almost a growl, filled with possessiveness, yet there was something softer in his tone. Something that made Jihyo's heart race even faster.

Jihyo's breath hitched, and she closed her eyes for a brief second, feeling a mix of heat and anticipation run through her veins. She had always known the effect she had on people, but hearing it from Kiho made her feel something deeper, something she wasn’t sure she was ready to admit.

Her body responded instinctively to him. She stepped closer, closing the distance between them, and placed her hands on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her palms. "And what makes you think you’re the only one who can touch me?" she asked, her voice a challenge, though it was laced with desire.

Kiho’s eyes darkened, and he let out a low laugh, the sound rich with a mix of amusement and hunger. "Because, Jihyo," he said, trailing his fingers down the length of her arm until they found the curve of her waist, pulling her against him with a firm but gentle hand. "I can see how badly you want it. I can feel how much you need it." His voice was low and silky, each word sending a wave of heat through her. "And I can see how you’re trembling under my touch. No one else will get to see you like this."

Jihyo gasped, the feeling of his hand on her waist sending a ripple of warmth through her entire body. The intimacy of his words, the way he saw her, truly saw her, was almost too much to handle. She tried to resist, but it was clear that Kiho had found a way to make her lose control.

"You're not just teasing me," Kiho whispered, his lips brushing over her neck as he continued, his voice like honey, "You’re letting me see all of you. And I promise, you won't regret this."

Jihyo’s hands roamed to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as she tilted her head back, giving him more access to her skin. "You think you have me figured out?" she asked breathlessly, her voice a mix of confidence and desire. "You think you're the only one who knows what I want?"

Kiho’s lips found the sweet spot on her neck, his kiss gentle, then more urgent, as though he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. "I know exactly what you want," he murmured against her skin, his hands moving slowly, possessively, up her back, inching toward the curve of her shoulder. "And it’s only a matter of time before you stop pretending you don’t want me too."

Jihyo’s body quivered under his touch, her mind swirling with desire. She could feel the pull, the growing need between them, and the way Kiho’s words — his actions — were slowly unravelling her resolve. She wanted him. She could feel it deep inside, but she wasn’t ready to fully surrender, not yet.

She leaned in, her lips brushing against his in a kiss that was slow at first, tentative, as if testing the waters. But Kiho was quick to respond, his hands sliding down her back, pulling her even closer as the kiss deepened. He tasted like fire, his hands roaming her body with an urgency that sent sparks of desire through her entire being.

And all the while, Choi hyuk remained hidden in the back, watching, his heart pounding in his chest as he saw Jihyo, the woman he had quietly adored from afar, completely consumed by Kiho. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the way Jihyo’s body responded to Kiho’s touch, the way her face flushed with desire. It was like watching his goddess being claimed, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

The air inside the RV was thick, almost suffocating, with the weight of unspoken desires. Jihyo stood in front of Kiho, her body electric with anticipation, yet her mind still conflicted, unsure of where this was headed. She could feel the heat radiating between them, a pull she couldn’t seem to escape. Her body responded to him — she could feel the way her pulse quickened with every glance, every touch.

Kiho stepped closer, his eyes scanning her from head to toe. Jihyo's skin flushed under his gaze, her body instinctively shifting, her shoulders back, subtly arching in the way she knew was most seductive. She could feel the fabric of her shirt clinging to her curves, outlining the smooth shape of her chest, her waist, and the gentle curve of her hips.

“You know,” Kiho said, his voice low, almost a whisper, “every time you move… you make it impossible for me to look away.”

Jihyo swallowed, her breath shallow, as Kiho reached out to trace the edge of her shirt, his fingers just grazing the fabric, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The touch was light, teasing, but it felt as though every nerve in her body was awakening. She could feel his eyes on her, sensing the way he was drinking in every inch of her body, as though she was something both forbidden and irresistible.

Her fingers twitched at her sides, wanting to move, but unsure of how. She was playing a game now, a dance that she both feared and craved. The way Kiho looked at her made her feel seen — truly seen — for the first time, as though every part of her body, every curve, was something worth admiring.

“You’re so beautiful, Jihyo,” Kiho murmured, his voice thick with admiration and something deeper. “I’ve seen you on stage… but standing here, with me, it’s like I’m seeing you for the first time.”

His words wrapped around her like a silken thread, tightening, pulling her closer to him. She bit her lip, feeling both exposed and powerful. Her legs felt weak as she took a small step back, almost imperceptibly, but Kiho was quick to follow, closing the space between them once again. His breath was warm on her skin as he leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear.

“Let me show you just how beautiful you are,” he whispered, his hands sliding up to the small of her back, pulling her toward him so that she could feel the heat of his body pressing against hers.

Jihyo’s breath caught. She could feel the hard muscle beneath his shirt, his body strong and solid against hers, and it made her heart race. The tension between them was palpable — thick, electric. Her skin tingled under his touch, every inch of her body becoming acutely aware of the way he was holding her, the way he was gazing at her as if she was the only thing that mattered.

Kiho’s hands slid slowly, deliberately, to the hem of her shirt. He didn’t rush; his touch was slow, gentle, yet there was an undeniable hunger in the way he moved. Jihyo’s heart pounded in her chest as he lifted the fabric, exposing the soft curve of her midriff. She trembled, unsure whether to pull away or lean into him. Every instinct in her told her to stay, to let the tension between them build even further.

Her body responded to him, even when her mind was hesitant. She could feel the pull of gravity between them, each inch closer, each brush of his hands against her skin, only serving to make her more desperate for the next moment, the next touch. Kiho’s gaze never left hers, his eyes dark with desire, and yet there was something tender, almost reverent, in the way he looked at her.

“I know you want this,” Kiho said softly, as if reading her thoughts. “I can feel it. Don’t fight it.”

Jihyo shuddered under his words. She wanted him. She couldn’t deny it. The way he made her feel — the way he saw her — it was too much to ignore. Slowly, hesitantly, she allowed her hands to drift upward, undoing the buttons of her shirt. Each movement was slow, deliberate, and as the fabric began to fall from her shoulders, she could feel Kiho’s gaze burning into her skin.

She wasn’t sure when it happened — when she stopped being afraid and started giving into the attraction, the magnetism between them. But once the shirt had slipped off, leaving her in a simple tank top that clung to her curves, Jihyo didn’t feel exposed; she felt empowered. She felt desired, in a way that was both intoxicating and thrilling.

Kiho’s eyes darkened further, his breath catching as he looked at her body, taking in every inch of her, every curve that made her uniquely her. The way her waist curved down to her hips, the soft roundness of her thighs, the way her skin glowed under the dim light. He couldn’t look away.

"You’re perfect," he murmured, his voice thick with appreciation. "Every part of you is a masterpiece."

Jihyo could feel the heat rising between them. She was trembling, not just from desire, but from something deeper, something she wasn’t sure she was ready to face.

But in that moment, with Kiho’s hands hovering just inches away from her body, she felt something stir inside her — a desire to be seen, to be touched, to be wanted in a way that was undeniable.

ihyo’s pulse quickened with every small movement he made, every slight shift in the way he touched her. His hand rested just above her waist, fingertips lightly grazing the smooth skin of her lower back. His touch was tender, yet there was a quiet confidence in the way he caressed her, as though he already knew exactly how to make her tremble without trying too hard.

She caught her breath as Kiho’s eyes slowly traced the curves of her body. Her chest rose and fell as she fought the urge to pull away, to resist, but something deeper inside of her told her to lean in, to explore the feeling between them, to see where it might lead. She could feel the heat radiating between them, his presence so strong it was almost overwhelming.

“Kiho,” she whispered, her voice low, unsure of what she wanted but needing something. His name escaped her lips like a breath, a question and a command all in one.

Kiho didn’t answer with words. Instead, he let his hands glide down her side, his touch gentle and purposeful. He paused just below her ribs, letting his fingers lightly trace the outline of her body, feeling the softness of her skin beneath his touch. There was no rush, no need to hurry. He wanted to savor this moment, every second, every inch of her. The curve of her waist, the way her body responded to his touch, it was all so intoxicating.

Jihyo’s breath caught as he leaned closer, his lips brushing just above her navel, sending a shiver through her body. She could feel his warmth, his breath hot against her skin, but it wasn’t until his lips made contact that she finally let herself relax into the sensation. His kiss was soft, almost reverent, as though he was cherishing every part of her.

He pulled back slightly, looking up at her with those dark, intense eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation. But all he saw was the spark of desire in her gaze, the same desire that burned in his chest. Without a word, his lips found her skin once again, this time lower, pressing delicate kisses just above her waistband.

Her body responded, her muscles trembling at the sensation of his lips on her. She had never felt so exposed, yet at the same time, so alive. The air around them felt thick, the tension between them palpable

Kiho slowly grazed his fingers along the surface of her tank top, and his thick fingers circled around the thick buds that were hard like a rock, and he could feel her body trembling as her back arched, giving him the full view of her huge breasts that were renowned in the K-pop industry. He could not wait to suck on those pink buds that every south Korean men wished to.

Choi Hyuk could barely breathe as he watched from the shadows, his body tensed with raw, burning jealousy. Jihyo—gorgeous, untouchable Jihyo—was trembling under Kiho’s stubby but commanding hands, her breath hitching in her throat, her curves pressed close to him like a dream slipping out of control. She was a vision of pure temptation: her tight tank top straining over her full, perfect breasts, her toned thighs shifting restlessly, as if begging for more. Hyuk's hand instinctively moved lower, trying in vain to soothe the painful bulge growing with every second of the shameless show before him. He grit his teeth, helpless, as Kiho, emboldened by her reaction, slid his hand along her waist, looking seconds away from tearing the thin fabric away and burying his face between those irresistible mountains.

Just as Kiho’s fingers curled under the edge of her top, a thunderous knock rattled the door, making Jihyo yelp in panic. She hurriedly tugged her clothes back into place, cheeks flushed and chest heaving, and threw herself onto the seat beside Kiho, trying to look innocent even as the air around her crackled with unspent heat. The RV door creaked open slowly, and Hyuk’s heart nearly stopped.

There, silhouetted in the doorway like a goddess descending to earth, stood Momo—the only other idol who could rival Jihyo’s lethal allure. Dressed in a short skirt and a tight crop top that left little to the imagination, she stepped inside with a smile that could melt steel, her eyes sweeping over the room before settling on the guilty-looking pair. With a playful glint in her gaze, she closed the door behind her, trapping all that smoldering tension inside the RV.

That is it for part 1. Part 2 continues with sneaky actions inside the RV with Momo and Jihyo at the same time. Kiho, you lucky bastard

[snail-day]

God, thinking about hair stylist! Suguru who just pampers you endlessly whenever you're in his chair. You’ve known each other since childhood, and even then, he was constantly playing with your hair, violet eyes bright with excitement as he begged you to let him try new styles or colors - requests you playfully denied until he earned his professional license.

Well. Now he’s licensed.

The salon practically worships him, clients lining up just for the chance to sit beneath those skilled, tattooed hands. Just to catch a glimpse of the way the light catches in his silky, dark hair, always tied back into a loose, low bun, or how the sun glints off the silver and gold piercings lacing his ears, giving him that ethereal look. that screams, out of your league.

There’s a bowl tucked behind the reception desk, filled with phone numbers scribbled on receipts and café napkins. Mostly women. A few bold men. He never throws them out. Claims he’s “not a heartbreaker,” says it with a foxlike smile and a shrug, as if he’s the one being courted against his will.

Yet, no matter how overbooked his schedule gets, no matter how many influencers, models, or high-paying clients beg for a slot, he always makes room for you.

Always.

Even cancels on celebrities from time to time. Especially one in particular, with annoyingly white hair and a cocky grin.

“I told him I had someone prettier to take care of,” Suguru says easily, lips twitching into a little smile as he greets you at the door. "He didn't take it well." As he pulls you to his chair, violet eyes meet yours in the mirror as he drapes the cape over you.

You blink. “Satoru?”

Suguru hums. “Didn’t say that.”

His fingers slide into your hair, his touch gentle, slightly sensual, and lingering between sections. “You’re my favorite client, princess,” he muses, gaze softening as he combs through your strands. “The usual?”

Before you can reply, he tuts, already inspecting your ends with mock dismay. "You haven’t been using the leave-in I gave you, have you?” His voice like silk, but there’s a scolding tone as he reaches for the product. “What am I gonna do with you?”

You try not to get distracted by the way the sunlight catches on his earrings, the gentle glint of his rings as his hands move expertly through your hair. But it’s impossible not to watch him, his focus, his elegance, the way he bites the inside of his cheek when he’s trimming. Causally measuring the strands, the soft brush of his fingers on your cheek when he's looking at you so intently.

And then he tilts your chin up with two fingers, knuckles brushing against your skin. “Look here for me, princess,” he says lowly, voice dipped in honey. You meet his gaze, heart skipping when his thumb strokes the line of your jaw.

“Perfect,” he whispers, mostly to himself.

You barely recover before he adds, casual as ever, “You always make my chair look good. Practically the prettiest girl I know.” You flush. Suguru grins.

And then comes the massage while he's washing your hair. His broad fingers working slow, hypnotic circles into your scalp, coaxing little sighs from your lips. It’s impossible not to melt. His touch borders between sinful and affectionate.

“So,” he murmurs, voice teasing at your ear, “seeing anyone special lately?”

When you say yes, there’s a pause. Barely noticeable. But you’ve known Suguru too long not to catch it. His hands still for a second too long. His smile tightens, almost imperceptibly.

“Is that right?” he echoes, leaning down until his breath fans your skin. “They must be so lucky…” Another pause. His voice lowers, warm and smug. “Though I can’t imagine anyone appreciating you quite like I do.”

You barely manage a sound as he shifts gears again, moving to blow dry your hair, playful but professional, brushing a curl behind your ear, only to messily tuck another strand back, pretending to fix it with a smile. “You’re impossible to improve,” he murmurs. “But I’ll keep trying anyway.”

Suguru doesn’t rush with you. Never has. He moves with the kind of care that makes time feel like it stretches, each moment a little sweeter than the last. His fingers glide through your hair, gentle as possible, his voice low as he murmurs between motions:

“Let me get this just right,” or, “Only perfection for my girl.”

And when he finally spins the chair around, revealing your reflection in the mirror, already moving behind you. tousling your hair a little to really showcase his work before his hands rest gently on your shoulders, thumbs grazing the fabric of your cape with the softest touch. His midnight gaze meets yours in the mirror, warm, and so unflinchingly soft it makes your stomach do a small flip.

“Beautiful,” he says, voice quiet, meant to be under his breath.

You make a small, flustered sound, and you’re grateful, almost embarrassingly so, when the door opens behind you. His next client. Saved by the bell. Nearly jumping to pack up your things.

Suguru steps back with a soft chuckle, already calling out a lazy greeting over his shoulder, but not before giving you a little wave. That same slow, familiar wave he’s always given you since you were kids.

[woniefication]

Third Time’s the Charm NSH.Ni-ki

𝘕𝘪-𝘬𝘪 (𝘙𝘪𝘬𝘪) 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳﹔𝐹𝘭𝑢𝘧𝑓 | 𝑆𝘭𝑜𝘸 𝘉𝑢𝘳𝑛 | 𝐺𝘭𝑜𝘸 𝘜𝑝 𝐴𝘜 | 𝘐𝑑𝘰𝑙 𝑥 𝐹𝘢𝑛 | 𝗙𝗮𝗻 𝘁𝗼 muse﹔𝐖; slight cursing ~Reblogs ﹠ FB appreciated 𓈒𓈒𓈒 Masterlist. Anon request <3

It was one of those chaotic online fansigns, mid-tour, when everything blurred together. Screaming fans, laggy Wi-Fi, weird fancalls that make him want to rip his head out,neon ring lights burning into his eyeballs.

But then you popped up on screen. Not flashy. Not filtered. Just a person with a crooked smile and a hoodie three sizes too big.

Riki tilted his head, confused at first.

Then you started talking.

And laughing.

And joking around like you hadn’t just won a once-in-a-lifetime chance to speak to him.

“You look tired,” you said, eyes squinting with something like concern. “Do you run on microwaved strawberries or sheer willpower?”

He blinked. “...Both?”

“Drink water or I’ll call your mom,” you deadpanned, sipping your own like it was a PSA.

He choked on his laughter.

You didn’t ask him to wink. You didn’t try to flirt or scream. You just… were. Naturally funny. A little awkward. Kind.

He remembered your name after that. Even when he wasn't supposed to.

Now. A year later, you’re in the crowd at a fansign again—this time in person.

And at first? He doesn't even recognize you.

Because glow up? Is an understatement.

Hair styled, confidence different, something about your posture that screams I found myself and I’m thriving.

And then you laugh.

That same exact laugh. That wheezy, snorty, can't-control-it laugh that stuck in his brain like a song on loop.

Ni-ki freezes.

His pen slips.

His mouth goes dry.

Holy sh— it’s you.

You walk up like you don’t know you just ruined his whole mental stability.

Still in your oversized hoodie. Still with that little sparkle in your eye. Like nothing changed even though everything did.

“Hey,” you say, casual. “You look less tired. Guess the microwaved strawberries helped.”

He stares.

You blink. “What?”

“You’re…” He pauses. “You’re you.”

Your smile falters, confused. “Yeah…?”

He leans forward, eyes wide. “Do you know how long I thought about that call? Your jokes? You literally told me to hydrate or else.”

Your cheeks flush. “You remember that?”

“Duh,” he says, grinning now. “You’re kind of hard to forget.”

And that’s when the staff gives him the wrap-it-up sign and he absolutely ignores it because this is his movie moment, and he’s not about to let it go.

So as you turn to leave, he blurts:

“Hey—same hoodie. Different glow.”

You turn back, raising a brow.

“Still the same me though.”

And damn if that doesn’t make his heart fall out his chest.

Third Fansign. By now, you’re practically a regular. Not in the creepy-sasaeng-fan way—just in that he gets disappointed when you’re not there kind of way.

And today? You show up looking absolutely flawless.

Ni-ki short circuits. Straight-up freezes mid-signature. You’re standing in front of him like it’s nothing, hoodie tucked into a pleated skirt, lip gloss too shiny, and that same chaotic smile that got him obsessed in the first place.

“You again,” he says, barely holding back his grin.

“Guilty,” you shrug. “But you still haven’t posted proof you’ve been hydrating. So…”

“You’re never letting that go, huh?”

“Absolutely not.”

He laughs, looking down for a second to keep himself from staring. And then, before he can psych himself out-

“Hey. Can I get your socials?”

You blink. “...What?”

The table goes quiet. The fan next to you gasps. The staff flinches like someone just broke the rules of the universe.

But Ni-ki’s already pulling out a scrap piece of paper, pen still in hand, scribbling fast.

“Like—your Twitter. Tumblr. Or whatever. I just…” he scratches his head looking away.

“Wanna keep laughing,” he says, voice low. “At your posts. Not at you. I mean—not like—”

He fumbles (a baddie).

You stare at him, wide-eyed. “Are you… serious?”

He nods, looking deadass calm now. “Completely.”

“This is wildly unprofessional,” one of the staff mutters under their breath.

Riki grins. “So is falling in love with a fan, but here we are.”

You choke. The girl behind you screams. Security is like five seconds from jumping in.

But he slides you the paper anyway.

@biscoluvr19

“DM me something stupid,” he says with a wink. “I’ll know it’s you.”

And before you can even process it, he gives you one last look that could melt steel.

“Still the same you,” he murmurs, “but you’ve got me acting real fuckin different.

(♡)-- @orimuraa @douqhnxtss @chrrific @liwinly @fleuryns @leaderwon @pnghoon @manariee

[fyuyushia]

"I hear the preacher say 'speak now or forever hold your peace.' There's the silence, there's my last chance—I stand up with shaky hands all eyes on me. Horrified looks from everyone in the room but I'm only looking at you." — Speak now

Somebody take me away from this man actually I can't stop my hands from writing. Not proofread btw..

Word count: 3303

You stared idly at your reflection from the mirror. Dressed from top to bottom in accessories you found much too excessive and face covered with make-up, you looked beautiful.

You weren't much for complimenting yourself, but you had to give credit to the one who did your makeup. They've erased every flaw so seamlessly, elevating your appearance to the point you almost couldn't recognize yourself. The dress, along with the headpiece and accessories that made up your entire look was frustratingly gorgeous. Meticulously designed, it was made to fit you, accentuating your body in the best way possible.

And you, who wore it with a grim look hated everything about it.

What use was dolling yourself up to these heights when the one you'll marry isn't the one you wanted?  

Forcing yourself to look away from the mirror, your arms embrace yourself as you seek solace to stop the tears from spilling. You tilt your head up, willing the tears to dry with a futile fan of your hands. You can't cry now, your make up's gonna be ruined before you even walk down the aisle.

You cursed yourself in frustration, nothing was going your way. When has it ever have?

If you had it your way, then right now, you would be spending your time combing your fingers through the ebony hairs of the man you loved fiercely with your entire being. You'd lean close to him, whisper sweet nothings and pepper his face with kisses, allowing your lips to meet the smooth expanse of his skin with gentleness that borderlined reverence.

If you had it your way, you'd be standing next to the rising hunter, Sung Jinwoo.

Instead, you're met with the harsh reality of the business world and ripped apart from him right when he needed you most. You wept for the heartbreak that left you in tatters, though your father praised you for your obedience that showcased your loyalty to your family, his words only served to be daggers that dug deeper at your heart with every point made.

As the world swiftly changed its course to make way for the new phenomenon called gates which summoned forth destructive beings to wreck havoc in your world, the hunters quickly took the spotlight from previously dominating figures. With the existence of the game changing mana crystals and monster loot, businesses that have once dominated the market soon fell off as more and more adapted to the change.

The rule in the business world states that the one who adapts the slowest loses. Your family was one of the losers, unable to swim with the tides that came too quickly for the company to stay relevant. Forced to pull every card in the arsenal, your father finally managed to get a favorable alliance with one of the more well known companies.

The deal? You get married with the heir of said business.

Turns out the heir had been eyeing you since he first saw you at a social gathering and reached out with the 'kindness' from his heart and offered to help you out with the small price of being unionized with him. Hah, what a load of bull. You knew full well just how ugly his personality was, a douchebag like him had no room for kindness in his heart.

You bit your lip, cursing your fate. Why would nothing ever go the way you want it to go? Was such a simple wish truly that difficult to grant?

You flutter your eyes shut, barely holding in the tears that threatened to cascade down your cheeks. Your hands run over the fabric of your wedding gown, squeezing it tightly as your mind conjures up an image of your (ex)lover. His messy black hair that, more often than not, looked like a bird's nest, his wide grey eyes that gleamed with hope despite all the suffering the world had made him go through, his lips that always settled in a bright grin, positivity brimming through and forcing a smile on your own lips as well, and his calloused hands that contrasted his meek demeanor, speaking loudly of his experience that were far from comfortable.

You were hopelessly in love with him, hopelessly smitten for the man who had nothing to his name.

Such a name, you figured, no longer suited him now after he made it to the news and was revealed to be Korea's 10th S-rank hunter after his second re-awakening. Shortly after you left, Sung Jinwoo grew leagues better. His frame grew bigger, taller, and his face became lethal as well. A sharp jawline that could easily cut houses in two(exaggeration), and a face that might as well have been the god's best work yet, he was every bit the dreamboat that women wanted. You had to admit, even you were weak to his charms.

You breathed out a sigh, all this thinking about Jinwoo had dampened your mood and forced you to think about things you thought you'd forgotten. As always, right when you thought you were on the verge of moving on, his memory pops up and you're back to square one again, tripping on your feet and pining once more for the man you had to let go.

"Jinwoo..."

"I'm here." A soothing baritone whispered beside you, his breath hitting the back of your ear.

You freeze, not expecting company. Turning around on your heel, your eyes widens when you're met with Sung Jinwoo's face—someone you've only seen once ever since your hasty break up.

"Jinwoo?" You repeat, no longer as sad but moreso surprised.

His lips quirk up, allowing a small smile to grace his features. He nods, taking a step back to set some space between the both of you. You gasp, mind overflowing with questions that seeped into your face without your notice. What was he doing here and how?

"What're you—" you pause, not too eager in asking that question. Staring at his features that greatly differed from the Jinwoo you once knew, your eyes soften. "Can I hug you?"

He pulls you into his arms wordlessly shortly after you finished muttering your request, easily closing off the distance that he himself placed. Burying your face against his chest, his fingers brush against the back of your head in a soothing rhythm.

"You don't even have to ask."

As your body gets pressed against his own sturdy build, your initial stiffness soon melts at the presence of someone who has once(and still is) been a safe haven for you. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you nuzzle against his chest, simply wanting to bask in this moment.

You knew this was wrong, clinging onto him when you're already promised to another would only make things harder for you. Still, you sought his comfort more than any other. In the end, there was no getting rid of him in your thoughts. A part of you wondered what exactly he was doing here, but you were scared to ask, afraid that you'd ruin the magic of the moment.

You flutter your eyes shut, releasing a shaky exhale. He smelled of sandalwood and mountain air, a scent that you always associated with comfort, with him.

The both of you simply stood in silence, tangled in each other's arms. You clung onto him tightly, afraid he'd disappear if you let him go for even just millisecond. Jinwoo doesn't mind your reluctance to let go, pulling you closer despite already being the closest he could get.

"I can't let go of you, Jinwoo. I—I still...love you."

Your voice comes out as a whisper, barely hearable. Jinwoo hears it nonetheless, thanks to his heightened perception, and his lips curl into what seemed like a sad smile. He hums, the sound making his chest rumble in turn.

"I know."

"You fool—why couldn't you have reawakened sooner? If you did I wouldn't have... We could have still been what we once were."

"I know, I'm sorry."

You punched his chest repeatedly, pulling away from him to give room to your fists. You grit your teeth, it's not his fault, you knew that. It's not his fault, but hearing his chaste answers had made you want to keep talking, keep blaming him despite knowing in your head and in your heart that he wasn't the one in the wrong.

Weren't you the problem? You couldn't even fight for him, didn't even try. In the end, you agreed all too easily to your father, gave up on this love out of fear of angering your father. It was your fault, you were the one who didn't even bother to fight for this.

The thought nearly made you sob.

Jinwoo, noticing your spiraling emotions, quickly puts an end to it with a few touches.

Bringing a hand up to your cheek, he cups it gently and tilts it up to meet him in the eye. He brushes his fingers against your cheek, urging you to look at him which you do. Your eyes glimmer with unshed tears, one word alone would probably make you bawl your eyes out.

His lips curls into a frown. Pressing a chaste kiss against the crown of your head, he effectively stops your constant stream of light punches against his chest.

"Tell me, sarang" he begins softly, and god, the way he uttered the endearment so lovingly had you melting completely. "Do you want me to break off this wedding?"

His words reel you back to reality. You blink, confused by his words. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what you think I mean. Will you give us a chance?"

You furrow your brows. Did he truly mean that? You stared him in the eye, catching the way his eyes glowed a faint purple. Words die down on your throat, and you settle with a nod of your head.

You steel your eyes, fingers squeezing the fabric of the cloth he wore. "Take me away, I don't want to be with anyone but you, Jinwoo."

Your words seemed to be the final nail in the coffin. He parts from you with one last kiss, this time, on the side of your lips.

"Then just wait for me."

That was what Jinwoo said a few hours ago before disappearing into obscurity. Now, as the ceremony neared a close, your eyes hastily scanned around the chapel in search of the familiar face of the man who had somehow snuck in your room just moments ago.

Your fingers trembled, threatening to let go of the bouquet you held in your hands. The preacher's words were nothing but white noise, unable to focus as your mouth let out practiced answers whenever you were asked to promise something.

Scanning the room one more time, your heart sank once you find no signs of the man. Has what happened earlier just been a figment of your imagination? Did you long to escape this marriage so much you fantasized about your ex showing up and whisking you away?

“If anyone knows of any reason why these two should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

You held your breath, squeezing the bouquet until your knuckles grew white from the force you exerted. Squeezing your eyes shut, you pursed your lips together and prayed—hoped for someone to stop this wedding before you would become truly bound to this man you could care less about.

"I do."

Loud gasps echoed throughout the chapel, murmurs exchanged as they all collectively stared at the only man who raised in opposition to the marriage. You open your eyes, lips quivering as it tries to stop a smile.

For once, something in your life has gone right. You swallow thickly, finding Jinwoo standing beside Jinho. Lowering his arm, he crosses it above his chest and stares down the groom with a challenging glare.

"Is that Sung Jinwoo? The S-rank hunter?"

"No way! You mean the one who single-handedly cleared that S-rank gate in Japan?"

"That Sung Jinwoo? What's he doing here?"

You ignored the whispers of the crowd, gaze transfixed on Jinwoo. Walking straight down the aisle, he shifts his eyes to meet with the preacher, and then to you.

"That woman," he turns to face your direction. "Is mine."

Another round of dramatic gasps resounded, the guests watching everything unfold, drinking in the entertainment down to the last drop.

Jinwoo's eyes soften as he mentions you. Extending his arm, he stretches out a hand for you to take. "Come with me?"

"Jinwoo!"

Dropping the bouquet, it fell to the ground with a soft thud. You turned your head, then your body. Walking down the stairs, you had the full intention to run to his arms. However, you were stopped before you could even take the third step.

A hand circles around your wrist, preventing you from going further. You click your tongue, met with your groom's face when you looked at who was holding you back.

"Young man, I fear you need more than jus—" a cold glare renders the priest shut.

"Don't be ridiculous! She's yours? I'm the one she's getting married with!" The groom seethes, harshly tugging you back to stand beside him.

You winced, glaring daggers at him. "I—"

"Shut up! You forget yourself, if it wasn't for me your company would've gone under a long time ago! You're not going anywhere."

You flinch at the aggression in his words. Still, you don't back down. "Let go of me!"

"After everything I've done—all those gifts this is how you treat me? Do you know how much I spent on you?!"

"I never asked you to send me those gifts. You forced them upon me!"

"Why you—"

"Rest assured, I'll pay you back for everything you spent on her." Sung Jinwoo, all of a sudden, stood between the two of you.

Peeling away the man's iron-clad grip on your wrist, he slides an arm around your waist and pulls you close to him. You flinched, bemused by how quickly he got here but didn't push him away.

"I'm ever so grateful for you taking care of her when I couldn't. I don't forget to pay back those I owe a favor to. I'll pay for everything, every single dime they owe you so she won't have to follow through this deal, don't worry, great and malevolent samaritan." His hold on the man's wrist tightened, exerting the same pressure he used when he was stopping you from running to his arms. "But I also don't forget anyone who's wronged me or the ones I love."

"I'm warning you, if you lay even one finger on them then I'll hunt you to the depths of hell and make you crave death more than anything else."

His eyes glowed lavender, allowing you and anyone in the room a glimpse of the hunter that had defeated powerful beasts alone. Shivers ran down your spine at the sight of this.

Cold, vengeful, and menacing—the fact that he really became such a powerful hunter finally dawned on you.

The man—your groom—wriggled against his grasp, unable to bear the burden of being pinned in place by Jinwoo's glare. He whimpered, legs quaking in fear.

When Jinwoo saw fit to let him go, he immediately fell on his butt. Scrambling for purchase, he then proceeded to grasp on a nearby pillar. Holding onto it, he steadied himself enough to stand up and make a run for it. The crowd fell into a deafening silence, each and everyone of them reluctant to even breath after witnessing the short exchange that just occurred.

Even you were rendered speechless. You peered up at him; gone was the timid boy who avoided confrontation like the plague. Instead, what replaced him was a man who wasn't afraid of raising a blade in the name of protecting the few people he cherished.

You watched his features relax. Taking a deep breath, he turns to face you, his attitude doing a whole 180 the moment it was you he was dealing with.

"Did I scare you? Sorry, I didn't mean to."

You blinked, snapped out of your daze when his eyes faded into the grey eyes you recognized to be his. The way he looked at you was soft, a direct contrast to the sharp glare he pointed to the man who just ran away with their tail tucked between their legs.

"Huh? Ah, no! You—you didn't scare me or anything like that." You cleared your throat, heart thrumming.

He breathes out a sigh of relief. Straightening his posture, he moves to a more comfortable stance. "Is that so? That's great, I wouldn't want to scare you."

Bringing you to a hug, your body stiffens up in response. Cheeks flushing, you found yourself still reeling from the shock of it all.

"You—you're here." You say, more to yourself than to him. "You're really here."

"Yes, I'm really here. I promised to take you away, didn't I?"

The tears that you held back finally came running down your eyes, tear ducts unable to hold back anymore.

"I know, but," you sniffled, "I didn't expect you to actually come. I half expected you to be nothing more than a simple hallucination."

Jinwoo chuckles. "That's ridiculous."

Your shoulders shook with the force of your sobs. All those pent up feelings came crashing down like a dam, and you couldn't find it in you to stop it.

"It's alright now, I'm here." He tucks a finger below your chin and tilts it up to face him. "Let's go somewhere else? There's somewhere I've been wanting to take you to when I finally got through you."

You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Will you really take me back? Even after I broke your heart once?"

His hands wrap around your waist in turn. "Of course, I'd still love you even if you thrust a dagger at my heart and twisted it."

You frown. "You really shouldn't."

"And yet I would." Came his reply.

"I'm sorry, I love you." You cupped his face with your hands, holding it delicately like it was porcelain.

His eyes narrowed, a grin forming on his normally thinly lined lips. Pulling you close, his lips met yours with a sweet kiss. You closed your eyes, reciprocating it with tears still pouring out of your eyes.

"Let's go, we've no time to waste."

You nod, allowing yourself to be pulled along by his hold.

"Ah, before that," he halts in his tracks. Facing the priest in charge, his smile quickly drops as he confirms one thing. "I trust that this marriage's been called off?"

The priest shivers, flinching when his eyes go back to it's cold disposition. "I—I—of course!"

He clears his throat, stammering as he ends the ceremony abruptly. "I must respectfully declare that, due to the objection raised, this wedding cannot continue at this time. This ceremony is concluded for today. I ask for everyone's understanding and respect when it comes to this matter."

Sung Jinwoo nods approvingly at the priest's hasty dismissal. Squeezing your hand, he takes you out of the chapel, donning a gentle demeanor as he turns his attention to you once more.

"Let's go, sarang. We have a lot of time to make up for."

You could only nod and return his smile with a wider one. As the crowd stands still, speechless from the fast paced event, you had already disappeared into the distance, willingly whisked away by the S rank hunter everyone feared and thought to be ruthless.

A few days later, the wedding makes it to the headlines. The mass soaked up the news like sponge to water, excitedly talking about the love story-esque event that took the whole media by the storm. News spread fast, and that day soon became an iconic event that everyone would remember whenever they think of Jinwoo and his beloved lover.

[nap-thym3]

Sebastian Solace(Pressure) x Reader/Self-Insert 🌊

Part-One /Fluff/1,886 Words

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Synopsis: In which when I first played pressure I just stood and stared at Sebastian’s character model for a solid five minutes. So this was born. yayayaya

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Army crawling on your knees and elbows, your chest rattles with your wheezing breaths. Truth was, you’d never been an active person. The most legwork you’d gotten in a day was typically at work, and even then, that was minimal. Suffice to say, being thrust into this shitshow of a scenario where running from constant threats was the norm, the situation couldn’t be anymore dire.

You wave a hand about in front of yourself, fanning away the disrupted layers of dust that fluttered in the cramped ventilation shaft as your rasping coughs bounce off the walls and create a cacophony of god-awful racket. You mutter a slew of curses to yourself, clapping your palm over your nose and mouth in a pitiful attempt to stifle your coughing fit. It would be just your luck for a nearby eldritch-horror to overhear your pathetic, asthmatic-self in the vents and drag you out by the ankles. The thought alone brings an electrifying jolt of anxiety through your person, and if you had the space you’d be looking over your shoulder in paranoia. Alas, the best you could do was put your jittering nerves to use and crawl just that little bit faster. Honestly, it was an accomplishment in of itself that you managed to shimmy-shammy your adult self into such a claustrophobic passage in the first place. If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve just marched straight past the most convenient and inviting looking vent in the world. Probably assuming it to be a blatant trap. Except, you did know better. Just a few feet ahead lay maybe the only place in the entire bowels of this hellscape where you felt you were well and truly safe.

Crawling out of the shaft like an NYC subway rat, you’re finally free to hack up your lungs in peace without fear of death by angler. At least, no death from this one in particular. Blindly you lean back to sit on your haunches, eyes straining to pick up any movement in the darkness.

“Oh. It’s you.” Your shoulder’s jump as a voice drawls from the far-side of the room. Soon after, a gentle glow begins to illuminate the occupied space.

Now with your gracious host offering you visibility, you blink your adjusting vision over to watch as Sebastian seemingly just wraps up whatever file he’d been perusing in the dark. Before you can even attempt to try and sneak a peek at whatever he’d been reading, said folder closes shut with a swift snap. The merchant then carefully tucks the item away into his inner-coat’s pocket. A shame, your snooping has been so swiftly shut down before it ever had a chance to begin- you pout at the missed opportunity. Sebastian catches your longing gaze fixated on his coat, and gives a condescending little pat to the area where you know the concealed document is to be hiding. Wordlessly daring you to even try. Cheeky fish.

“Not even a ‘Hello’ or ‘How are you’? I could’ve been dying in there!” You bemoan in a familiar way of greeting, gesticulating between yourselves wildly as you saunter forward. Sebastian, unphased by your usual eccentricities, drags an unimpressed eye over your much smaller form. Analyzing. Probably looking at your absolutely filthy diving suit- sweat-drenched and caked in dust, grime, and maybe even a little bit of blood as it was. At least you assumed so, if the distaste visibly evident in his features was anything to go by.

“I was hoping whoever it was would die a little more quickly.” Was his dry response, before turning his head in indifference; seeming to have found whatever it was he was looking for on your person.

You scoff, “I see chivalry really is dead.” You gripe without any real bite in your voice. Already beginning to survey the merchant’s wares. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him as he begins to preen over his nails, pretending to be checking for dirt. Or blood, you didn’t know the guy well enough to say for certain what he did in his free-time. Your attention travels upwards, from his large hands up to his round face. The light emanating from his angler’s bulb casts an almost ethereal glow to his features. Especially with the way his eyes gleam that cerulean blue that’s quickly becoming a favorite color of yours. In addition to these qualities, there’s a very light sprinkling of bioluminescent freckles smattered across his cheeks. Sort of reminiscent to that of stars. Idly your fingers twitch, the sudden urge to reach up and map them like constellations startlingly strong. All these qualities make Sebastian feel so surreal, so out of this world. In juxtaposition to all of that, you’re confident to say that if he had the means, he’d be snobbishly turning his nose up at you right about now. The mental image brings a small, secretive smile to your face.

Sebastian rolls his eyes- or at least, you get the impression that he does. His lack of distinctive pupils makes it hard to tell.

“Are you going to actually buy something today?” He snips, cocking out a hip. “Or are you just going to keep gawking at me?” The merchant sneers through grit teeth(or maybe that was just his face?).

Snapping out of your reverie, caught with your hand in the proverbial cookie-jar, blood rushes to your head as you grin sheepishly up at his accusatory glare.

“Sorry, you’re just…” you wave a hand up beside yourself, willing the right words to come to you. Sebastian, amused by your silent floundering, quirks a knowing eyebrow at you. As if saying ‘Go on?’ The soundless goading sends you into a mental spiral- what did that mean? What did he think you were going to say? God- you don’t want to accidentally offend him, but you also don’t want to sound like a complete idiot. You gulp, mouth opening and closing a few times as you attempt to formulate words that will appease him.

Seemingly tired of you embarrassing yourself, Sebastian moved to speak, assumedly in an act of mercy from this sad display. Quickly, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, before he could beat you to the punch.

“You’re just really pretty.” Mortified, you clap your hands over your mouth. Yup. Those are. Definitely words that you just said. To his face.

Muscles tensing, you brace for his reaction. You’re not sure what you’re expecting, disgust, maybe? Mocking laughter, most probably. Any and all situations your brain can conjure up are absolutely humiliating in equal measure. However, as one moment drags into two, and the silence has still yet to be breached, you cautiously look Sebastian’s way. The sight that greets you is a rare one. The infamous Z-13, Sebastian Solace, is left speechless.

The Merchant’s smug expression falters, a look of genuine astonishment crossing his face. The dim light cast by his lure does little to mask the way his stature curls inwards slightly. A slight too much, in your opinion. You can see the muscles in his jaw clenching and unclenching- as though internally wrestling with a response. Just as you had been a moment prior. The knowledge that he was just as at a loss for words as you were eases the tension in your shoulders, if only by a hair. Miser so does love its company, after-all. There’s a brief pause, heavy and awkward, until he finally speaks, his voice softer than usual.

“Pretty?” he echoes, almost disbelievingly. He then swallows, visibly thrown off-kilter.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been called… At-At least- that is to say, not in a good long while.” The second half of his sentence is murmured, as if mostly said to himself. But you had overheard, and he looks as if to have noticed the way your brows pinch in a confusing whirlpool of emotions. Mostly sympathy, pity, among other emotions neither of you were too entirely ready to put out on the table. God forbid you two express emotional maturity and speak plainly like adults. Sebastian flexes his long tail, the serpentine appendage looking as if it were going to either pull or push you away. However, before it can make any progress in either endeavor, Sebastian, -noticeably uncomfortable- clears his throat.

“Silly little thing.” He croons, swooping down from his towering height to give you a patronizing pinch to the cheek with his clawed index and thumb. “You should be mindful of your tongue, hmmm?” As he speaks, his usual edge returns to his voice. Your head helplessly tilts side-to-side with the motion of his ‘affection’. Affronted, and a little whip-lashed with his quick recovery, you swat the offending hand away from your face.

“Jerk! I was trying to be nice!” Despite the biting words, you can’t help but feel relieved to be set back on familiar ground. Whatever emotional vulnerability present in the moment prior was slowly ebbing away, returning to your regularly scheduled squabbling. Sebastian chuckles, bodily retreating to his previous stature and re-clasping his hands before himself with an echoing ‘clap’. You rub at your reddened cheeks, whether their heat was due to Sebastian’s rough treatment or from an entirely other emotion, was only for you to know.

Sebastian continues on distractedly, seeming to have already recollected his composure. “Flattery will get you nowhere here, you know. But… thanks.” You think you see his eyes dart away for a brief moment, before locking onto yours again. A curl of his typical smirk splaying across his lips.

You gasp dramatically, a goofy smile erupting on your face. “The mighty Sebastian? Saying thanks?” You tease.

Sebastian waves a hand about in the air dismissively. “Yeah yeah, just don’t let it get to your head.” He says, crossing his arms defensively. He steamrolls on before you get anymore wise ideas to- eugh, compliment him. “Now hurry up and buy something already!” He snaps, motioning to the various goodies strapped to his person. Not having to be told thrice now, you hurry and make your selections. Eager to move on from everything and anything to do with word ‘cute’. Nothing major, just a few batteries for the road and a mobile hacker or two. Sebastian seems to approve of your choices, and if the price he demands of you seems a little cheaper than the usual- well. You certainly weren’t going to complain.

Getting everything tucked neatly away and ready to go, you begin to trek back towards the vent before being stopped once more by Sebastian.

“Oh! And Traveller?” He calls. With an answering hum, you look back to maybe your only friend down here. The merchant in question seems to look like he’s turning something over in his head, before continuing with a withering sigh.

“Try not to get yourself killed out there, alright? I’d hate to lose such a profitable costumer.” He sing-songs grimly. Despite the harsh words, you can’t help but notice a slight undertone of warm endearment. Feeling like a certified Sebastian-whisperer, you pride swells in your chest at being able to read between the lines. With a barely concealed snicker at his thinly-veiled concern, you toss a final farewell his way before retreating. All throughout the next dozen or so rooms, you journey forward with a skip in your step. Feeling invigorated with newfound determination knowing that a certain merchant was counting on your safe return.

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eeeughh I’m so rusty with writing. Like. It’s not even funny how long this took me for just a one-shot? Idk I might continue this, I just suck so bad at staying motivated for fanfics. Anywho, hope any fellow Sebastian enjoyers out there liked this, there’s not enough content out there of him👍 please make more content guys pls I’m starved for the fics puh-LEASEE

[mizusbabygirl]

rotting away ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊⁺⊹⋆₊˚⊹ᰔ se-mi (player 380) x fem reader

se-mi is in a band with thanos, min-su, and nam-gyu and you happen to be a really big fan of them, specifically a really big fan of se-mi… ────୨ৎ──── cw: se-mi enjoys dry humping you (bring dry humping back 😂✌️) especially in front of the other band members, se-mi fucks you with her strap-on in the backstage before and after her performances (thanos likes to walk in on the two of you to record but se-mi ends up beating the shit out of him after), she has pet names for you like “princess,” “doll,” “baby,” “slut,” even though you hated them at first, se-mi enjoys photographing you so she could fap to your pictures after, reader eats out se-mi while she records a song in the recording room (we could probably wonder how that song sounded after it got released), se-mi loves to smack your ass randomly (don’t worry it’s consensual)

“se-mi! is that you?!” you yelled out as you stumbled upon se-mi, an artist from a band that didn’t quite have much recognition yet. se-mi was seen standing next to min-su, another member from her band. you ran as fast as you could so you got the chance to be noticed by your favourite artist.

you had such a big obsession with se-mi that you didn’t even notice min-su standing next to her outside of a coffee shop helping her gather the very few fan gifts she received from her past performances. as expected, se-mi looked from admiring her gifts to looking straight at you, running at her. to your surprise, you tripped over a rock and fell right in between se-mi and min-su.

“are you alright, pretty girl?” se-mi asked sounding cocky with her question as you struggled to get up after injuring your leg. she let out her hand to pull you back up onto your feet even though you cringed at the random pet name she gave you but you brushed it off. “thank you, se-mi. i just wanted to come ‘round here to let you know that i’m one of your biggest fans and that i love-“ you grunted as the pain in your leg got worse “fuck!”

her eyes widened at the sight of one of her fans being hurt right in front of her. “i’m not a doctor but i hope this could help,” se-mi leaned in to give you a small peck on the lips causing you to jump around and squeal right after.

“oh and for my next performance, you’ll get to pay me a visit in the backstage,” she said with a wink as she handed you a backstage pass.

it was the end of her performance, you were in the backstage, making out with se-mi, wearing a sexy miniskirt that flashed your panties to her. the concert was nice but the taste of her tongue entering in your mouth was even better, making a wet spot in your panties as she placed her hands on you.

“you look so fucking gorgeous, i couldn’t wait to finish performing so i could come over her and get a taste of you,” se-mi said before going back in, basically eating your lips like a hungry animal. not to mention the fact that you were so needy for her, your knee hitting her in between her legs.

se-mi broke the make out with you eventually, leaving you in heat. “bend over, baby,” se-mi demanded as you immediately got into position. her hands wandered around your lower back and your ass, giving it a nice slap. “if only i could breed you and make you completely mine,” she said hungrily as she slammed her hips against you, humping your ass repeatedly and her hands gripping onto your hips tightly. “se-mi..” you moaned out her name, your back arched as you felt her go faster and harder.

your panties were soaking wet and all you wanted to do in that moment is rip them off.

se-mi eventually stopped, fixing herself before thanos walked in along with nam-gyu. “who’s this?” thanos said while examining you with his eyes as if you were an intruder. “she had a backstage pass,” se-mi assured him but then she turned around to give you a wink. “i see, anyways make sure to not get black out drunk like last time,” thanos said as he threw his arm around nam-gyu and walked out of the backstage to meet up with min-su at a local bar to celebrate their third performance.

“aren’t you going to go with them?” you asked. “no, i don’t need to treat myself to a silly expensive drink since now i have something better to treat myself with,” se-mi gave you a peck on your cheek. the heat in your body rose as she suddenly pulled down your panties. “se-mi, please, i want you,” you whimper as she pushes you onto a nearby couch and removes the rest of your clothes off. “good thing they won’t be back until next morning probably, you slut,” se-mi said with a chuckle as she undressed herself and got out her black strap-on from her bag.

you spread your thighs open, lifting your legs, your knees resting on your chest as she adjusted the strap-on on herself. your hand reaches over to touch your own wetness, rubbing your folds and inner folds with your fingers. “fucking impatient whore it hasn’t even been two minutes and you’re already touching yourself,” she glanced at you, the tip of her strap-on pointing straight at you, her tits small but perky with her nipples decorated with a pair of piercings. rumor says it that she even got two piercings on her clit according to nam-gyu after he caught her masturbating in the backstage after she got black out drunk from her last performance.

“oh fuck i want to fuck you in doggy style so i can watch your ass jiggle,” she said as she demanded you to get in position. your back arched, making your two holes almost fully exposed for her. she lined up the tip of her cock against your pussy hole, giving it a few flicks here and there before sinking it inside of you. she got a hold of your hips for stability and her thrusts started off slow, since your hole was to tight for her big cock. “mmm..” se-mi thrusted deeper in your hole.

sooner or later, her thrusts turned into rough pounds, your moans turned into screams and squeals and you knew for a fact that your cervix was going to be stretched out and bruised for the next 6 months after this. you gripped onto the couch’s fabric for dear life but she kept pulling you back in. “fucking slut, this is what you wanted huh?” she gripped onto your hair. “your favourite artist to fuck you raw and deep right?” she mumbled through her words as her pounding became fierce and violent.

“too bad i can’t feel your warm squelching pussy tighten around my fat plastic cock,” she said, giving your ass a sharp smack. just as soon as you were about to cum, thanos flings the door open to find his band mate brutally dicking down her fan on the couch with her strap-on.

se-mi pulls out, making your pussy make a loud wet squelching sound and runs up to thanos to punch his nose, almost breaking the fuck out of it. “keep out, fucking dipshit,” se-mi kicks him out and makes sure to lock the door well.

meanwhile, you were laying on your belly, your pussy still spurting out fluids from your release.

“baby, i’m sorry i went too rough,” se-mi said as she pulled out her camera to snap a few pictures of your front side, getting perfect shots of your breasts and pussy on display. as soon as she was done having a little photoshoot with you, she tossed the camera aside and put her strap-on back up as an idea went into her mind. “come ride me princess, it doesn’t matter if i fucked up your energy, i want to watch your tits bounce as you bounce up and down on my strap,” she suggested as she laid down on the couch, watching you crawl over to her to sink yourself down onto it.

“the fucking couch is going to snap because of you, you filthy slut!” se-mi yelled out as you were busy riding and bouncing on her cock, her hands gripping your ass. she began thrusting upwards to match with your riding. “baby, i’m going to cum..” you slow down, gently grinding on her while her strap is still deep inside your cervix.

overtime, this became a habit between you and semi. of course the other band members know but they wouldn’t say a word of it since they heard how badly thanos got punched in the nose for simply walking in on the two of you by accident.

today se-mi was going to record a song for her album in the recording room and she invited you over. of course, you knew her intentions but you wondered how you two were going to have sex in a place without a comfortable spot like a bed or a couch.

“i’m here~” you say playfully as you make your way inside the recording room. it was just se-mi in the room alone and she was setting up her recording set up.

“c’mere princess,” se-mi signaled you over to her lap. you sat on her lap, giving her a few kisses on her lips and cheeks. “look, get under the table and eat my pussy while i finish this, alright?” se-mi pulled down her pants and watched you get under the table. your eyes looked up at her then at her pussy. you moaned at the sight of her clit piercings and the pink tint the inside of her pussy had.

as soon as she started recording and singing, you began tickling her clit with the tip of your tongue, making its way down to where the hole of her pussy was. you darted your tongue inside the hole, licking and sucking away the wetness away from it. she sounded heavenly while singing and you could hear her struggling by moaning in between her words.

your hands maintained her thighs spread, her pussy got more pink and sensitive as you sucked hard on it. you gave it light kisses as you were eating her out, her moans getting louder and more obvious.

she came all over your mouth.

“good girl, now c’mere,” she lifted you up with your lips and chin glossy with her juices. she turned you around to smack your ass repeatedly. “you like that, doll? you like being smacked like that after eating me out like that?” she continued her spanking as you kept nodding hoping she would calm down.

“i want to marry you one day,” she stopped what she was doing to make you look at her in her eyes.

you could probably guess how that night went with her after she was done in the recording room with you.

[mattsundaes]

matsukawa issei x f!reader x semi eita — 18+, band au, fooling around in a hot tub, dry humping, handjob, fingering, (continued from)

“what do you think of the new song?”

matsukawa’s voice is low and smooth, and you have to lean in just a bit to hear him over the steady gurgling of the hot tub jets. his dark waves are damp from the rising steam, and the golden glow of the string lights that dot semi’s backyard reflects in his eyes as he looks at you. 

before you can fumble for an answer, semi leans his chin on your shoulder and smirks, “oh, she’s a big fan.”

you elbow him underwater, which doesn’t do you much good, considering you’re sitting in his lap. 

mattsun catches the movement, watching the two of you with open curiosity. “are you dating?” he asks curiously. 

a huff of amusement leaves semi’s lips, because he’s your best friend. and the two of you have fooled around plenty. you’ll probably sleep in his bed tonight, after all.

but semi wants you to fuck matsukawa.

he likes when he’s hanging out with seijoh and texts you some covert picture of matsukawa leaning against a wall wearing sunglasses and all black from head to toe, a cigarette hanging between his lips. and all you can reply back with is a string of unintelligible letters.

semi likes when he’s fucking you, when he asks if you touched yourself looking at the picture that he sent you, when he tells you that you’re definitely matsukawa’s type and feels you gasp and clench down on him.

“no,” semi tells him plainly, nose brushing against your cheek. “but the answer to your next question would still be yes, even if we were.”

the corner of matsukawa’s mouth twitches, and he meets your gaze. because it’s your answer he needs. “would it?”

you smile at him then. “depends on what your next question was.”

matsukawa laughs.

you’re thankful the party’s long-since died down when you find yourself in matsukawa’s lap, his mouth on yours. semi’s pressed up against your back, fingers stroking your sensitive, pebbled nipples through your swimsuit top.

you gasp against mattsun’s lips when semi pinches down, hot water splashing out over the side of the hot tub as you arch your back at the sharp sensation. matsukawa hushes you with his mouth, tongue sliding along the seam of your lips to deepen the kiss. your whine reverberates in his throat when semi undoes the knot from your top and exposes your bare, wet tits to the cool night air, fingers quick to take the place of the dripping material. 

arousal and need pulse between your thighs as you feel the outline of matsukawa’s dick pressed up against you, already growing dizzy at the promise of its length.

semi’s hand comes up to caress your jaw, his mouth ghosting matsukawa’s as he leans in to kiss you. 

“she likes it like this,” semi tells him, his hands wrapping around your waist and guiding you back and forth in the cradle of mattsun’s lap.

part of you wants to make a joke about dry humping.

about how like is a mild way to put it. about how you and semi have come in your pants more times than you can count like this on the couch. when a lazy makeout session turns into needy grinding and taking off your clothes comes secondary to the sensation of your soaking wet underwear sliding against your puffy folds while you rock over the outline of his cock—

about how there’s absolutely nothing dry about this at all right now.

but you don’t get a chance to, not when every last word dies in your throat as matsukawa splays a large palm flat against the dip of your lower back and pulls you in just as he rocks his hips upward.

“oh,” you moan, pleasure dancing white-hot over your nerves as you feel every last inch of matsukawa’s dick while he drags your cunt along the length of it.

“i like this, too,” matsukawa tells you, thumb stroking your chin as his other hand slips down into your bathing suit bottoms, long fingers cupping your ass and giving it a firm squeeze. “but i have a better idea.”

water sloshes as he turns you around, hooking your legs around the outside of his thighs so you’re spread open wide and facing semi. 

semi wastes no time in leaning in, mouth closing over your tits before he begins to suck. his tongue is hot as it laves over your sensitive nipple, and you keen, fingers tangling in his hair. he moans when you tug on it, sucking harder, free hand grasping the erection tented heavily at the front of his swim shorts. matsukawa’s dick is thick and hard where it rests between your ass cheeks.

long digits slide over your hip and tug aside your swimsuit bottoms, just enough for a middle finger to sink into your tight hole knuckle-deep. matsukawa groans when he feels how wet you are, slick and dripping with sticky arousal even in the hot tub, cunt fluttering around his touch and not to subtly begging for more as you buck your hips into it.

a sound of amusement rumbles in his throat, and his lips brush against the shell of your ear. “how about this then?”

your fingers wrap around semi’s cock, and his forehead falls against yours as he pants into your mouth. matsukawa’s other hand strokes your sensitive nipples, thumb rolling around each of the peaked buds like he's stroking a pick over the strings of his guitar.

semi takes your bottom lip between his teeth as matsukawa’s tongue presses hotly into the tender spot behind your earlobe, as he adds a second finger and stuffs both into your aching hole to the last knuckle. 

“yes,” you tell him, voice breaking on a whine. 

a third finger slides in, this one belonging to semi, their hands joining as one while they pump in and out of your cunt. and there's something wholly filthy about this that leaves you drunk on the feeling, that has drool pooling in the back of your mouth and a heady, untamed feeling unravelling in your gut.

(that has you on the verge of begging for more.)

(and isn't that funny, how greedy you can be, even with the long, dexterous fingers of two handsome guitarists stuffed inside of you at once.)

“so pretty like this, baby,” semi murmurs against your mouth, rutting his cock into your tight fist. “so fucking pretty.”

matsukawa hums in agreement, nose brushing against your cheek. “he’s right.”

something in your chest dips and swoops, licking its way down each notch of your spine before settling hot and sticky in your belly. 

you’re wholly bucking into semi and mattsun’s thrusts now as they fuck their fingers into you, ass dragging repeatedly over mattsun’s cock while you continue to pump semi’s with just as much fervor. 

and when your orgasm hits you, it’s enough to punch the air out of your lungs, pleasure cresting over your limbs in dripping, hot waves between murmurs of “that’s it” and “so goddamn pretty” and “good girl" while you moan and shake and choke out a sob.

semi follows right after, sinking somewhere between your lap and mattsun’s once his spent dick goes limp.

and for all that you’re prepared to indulge yourself in the mouth-watering urge to suck matsukawa’s cock, he doesn’t seem the least bit sorry to have come from rutting against the globes of your ass.

"the song sounds great, by the way," you eventually say while you're catching your breath. "both of you together is like a dream."

semi snorts.

mattsun raises his eyebrows. "oh?"

you drag a hand over your face, somehow embarassed even now while matsukawa's gently massaging your slick, oversensitive folds with one finger and semi's kissing your shoulder.

"singing together."

"uh huh," semi replies.

"just singing?" mattsun asks, teeth grazing the shell of your ear.

[puck-luck]

have your cake | quinn hughes

warnings: overstimulation, multiple orgasms, oral (fem!receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, coming on reader's body, subspace (not directly called that but gf is DEEP in SOME headspace) pairing: birthday boy!quinn hughes x fem!reader summary: it's quinn's 25th birthday, so fem!reader gives him the chance to do his favorite thing in bed for as long as he would like. wc: 2992

“Thank you for dinner, sweetheart,” Quinn says, bringing his napkin to his face and wiping his mouth. “And thanks for not making my birthday such a big deal.”

He had asked for such, so you were just trying to follow his wishes. The Canucks hadn’t had a game today, so Quinn had gone to practice like normal. He had grabbed a drink with Petey, Garly, and J.T. afterward as a special treat for his birthday. You know that Tocchet had asked catering to make Quinn a singular birthday cupcake, since he isn’t the biggest fan of sweets during the season.

With you, though, he just wanted to spend his time. You made him a steak, his favorite. On the side, you baked a potato and heaped a healthy pile of green beans onto his plate. For fun, you made some cheesy garlic bread, and although he doesn’t normally eat gluten during the season, he’s never been able to deny your fluttering eyelashes and doe eyes. 

He cleared his plate. He always does, but you feel especially proud of your cooking today.

“You’re welcome,” you respond. “I’m glad you liked it. Has your birthday been good?”

Quinn nods. “It was a good day. Very calm. It’s still weird without Jack and Luke, but I talked to them earlier. They called me before practice, right after they got out of the gym.” He pauses, reaching out with his palm up so you take his hand. “This dinner is the cherry on top.”

“You haven’t even had dessert yet,” you tell him. “Since it’s your birthday, you get to have your cake and eat it, too.” You’d been thinking about the pun for hours. It might not make the most sense, given the dessert that you’re going to offer him in just a few minutes, but you think you’re funny. You’re on the last few bites of your own dinner, so you want to clear your plate and load the dishwasher before you offer him anything.

“Baby, I don’t need anything sweet,” Quinn says. “I already had something today.”

You take the final bite of potatoes, then swallow. You stand, collecting his plate and stacking it atop your own. “You’ll like it, I promise.”

“What is it?” Quinn asks.

“A surprise,” you tease, winking at him as you rinse the debris off of the plates with hot water. Then, you load the dishwasher and wash your hands, drying them with the towel that hangs near the sink.

“You’re such a tease,” Quinn laughs, pretending to chide you for withholding. He stands from the table and washes his own hands, but as soon as he’s done, he takes the opportunity to get handsy with you. He dries his hands on your clothes, leaving wet handprints over your ass and waist, plus one over one of your tits for good measure.

You twist away from him like you hate the antics, but it’s just the precursor to his dessert, which he doesn’t know yet. Sure, he’s probably hoping to get laid tonight– and it is his birthday, after all– but you had other plans.

Quinn rarely gets to do his favorite thing in bed. Part of that is because you’re both busy and when you fuck, you want to fuck. You like getting to the point where Quinn’s ample cock is buried inside you, filling you with his come, all while he murmurs little nothings about “you’re mine,” “gonna put a baby in you,” or the like. 

His favorite thing is to lay between your legs and eat you out until your thighs are squeezing his head and covering his ears and suffocating him. Like you said– you’re normally greedy for his cock, even impatient (which is how he often describes your attitude in bed), but today is Quinn’s birthday.

So, if he wants to, and he will want to, he’ll eat your pussy for dessert. He’ll eat you out until he’s had his fill, no matter how many orgasms it takes. You already set two full bottles of water on the bedside table in your shared room, plus you bought some fruit at the store so that you can recharge when he’s done with you. You’re expecting overstimulation, a fuzzy brain, and maybe even tears as a result of the pleasure.

You’re prepared for anything, because you’re at the mercy of the birthday boy today.

“Go to our room,” you tell Quinn. “I’m going to bring you dessert in bed, okay? I’ll be there in a few minutes. Just let me get everything ready.”

“Good idea,” Quinn says. “Then we won’t have to leave bed afterward.”

You playfully roll your eyes at him and shoo him away, but he’s absolutely correct. That’s the whole point.

Quinn goes, blowing you a kiss just before he walks out of sight because he can’t help himself from being silly when you share a domestic evening together. 

Once he’s gone, you pretend to prepare a dish. You open and close the fridge a couple of times, you click the lighter like you’re lighting candles, you remove plates and cups from the cupboard so that he hears the clatter and suspects nothing. As you move around the kitchen, shuffling along inconspicuously, you remove your clothes. 

Underneath your normal leggings, t-shirt, and one of Quinn’s Canucks sweatshirts lies your favorite part of the outfit. You’d been planning to do this since the end of September, so you’d had plenty of time to go to Victoria’s Secret and buy yourself a black, lace crotchless teddy. Quinn will get to look up at you in the (not-so cheap) fabric and admire how it fits you without sacrificing his ability to eat you out. There’s no barrier between your cunt and his tongue, despite the fact that you’ll still be clothed.

You have planned everything out to the final detail, to the final possibility, and you might be just as eager as Quinn will be when he sees you.

So that you’ll have something to snack on when he’s done, you actually wash the fruit you bought earlier and put it in a bowl. Holding the bowl in one hand, you politely knock on the bedroom door before entering.

Quinn is already in the process of removing his shirt and getting ready for bed. When you walk in, he turns to meet you. When he sees what you’re wearing, he freezes and his lips part in surprise.

In a second, you watch his expression melt into his typical “my brain has turned off and now the only thing that I can think about is getting my girlfriend in bed” look. 

“Happy birthday, baby,” you say, biting your lip as you take in his reaction. You put a hand on your hip and pop it to the side, showing off your outfit. 

“Are you my present?” He asks, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“I’m your dessert,” you correct.

“Even better,” Quinn decides, crossing the room and getting his hands on you. 

“Wait,” You tell him.

Quinn pouts, but drops his hands to his sides. 

You give him a little twirl, revealing the way that your behind is only partially covered by the lace of the lingerie. You move slowly, giving him plenty of time to stare at all of the parts of your body, thoroughly taking you in. 

He gives you a low whistle as you turn. You touch his jaw when you’re done, then you turn to the bed. You actually crawl from the foot of the bed, giving him a show.

When you collapse against the pillows, making yourself comfortable. Quinn stares at you, walking to the bed and touching your ankle. He draws a star on your skin, surveying the view.

“What can I– what do you want me to do?” Quinn asks, eyes still raking your figure.

“Whatever you want,” you reply. “It’s your birthday.”

“Whatever I want?” Quinn repeats.

You hum in affirmation. “Your fingers, your cock,” you list. You raise your eyebrows, bringing one of your legs up into a bent position. His eyes are drawn to your core. “Your mouth.”

Quinn’s attention snaps to your face.

“Whatever you want,” you confirm again. “For however long you want. All night, even. Birthday boy.”

“I love you,” Quinn says, climbing up onto the bed and settling between your legs. “You’re perfect.”

“I expect the same kind of treatment on my birthday,” you banter back, moving with his touch. He nudges your knee, so you spread your legs for him.

Quinn doesn’t reply, running his fingers over the fabric that lies on either side of your pussy. He pushes his thumb against your clit, applying pressure but not giving pleasure, not yet.

You take it as a sign that you’re in for a long night. So, you shift and make yourself more comfortable. You look down, watching Quinn.

He’s gentle to start. He presses sweet kiss after sweet kiss to your folds, to your clit which is still hidden. He takes his time.

You’re not sure which is true: if you’re wet of your own accord, or if Quinn’s gentle licks and smeared kisses make you that way.

In the end, it doesn’t matter. You’re wet and Quinn’s getting to do what he loves. You’re comfortable, he’s making satisfied noises as he grows more eager, and everything feels good.

You touch his hair, smoothing it off of his forehead. You tilt your head, admiring him with slow blinks and a serene smile on your face. 

Quinn has a one-track mind at the moment. Until he’s drawn an orgasm out of you, he won’t look up and check in. 

His tongue teases you, traipsing along your slit and circling your clit leisurely. He’ll run his bottom lip over the skin, letting it drag along your core and create unexpectedly satisfying friction. He’ll nose at your clit, bumping his features along your most sensitive points, just because he can. Quinn’s eyes are closed, fully immersing himself in the moment.

He works his tongue into you over time, at first teasing you with flicks and short dips, but it doesn’t take long for him to grow greedy for more– greedy for your release all over the muscle. It’s then that he licks into you as best he can, using his thumb to stimulate your bundle of nerves. He repeats the same motion over and over– prodding his tongue into you, drawing it out… again and again, all the while he’s pressing against your clit.

Your first orgasm builds slowly. Slow and steady wins the race, they always say, and Quinn is drawing the orgasm out of you like the tortoise in this race. You’re starting to feel a bit jumpy, like the rabbit, your hips aching to move beneath him and grind against his face.

But, this is his birthday present. You restrain yourself because it’s his gift. He gets to set the pace. If Quinn wants to make this the most built-up, desperate orgasm of your life, he’s allowed to do so.

It takes minutes. Minutes of Quinn humming and licking and touching you with the pad of his thumb until you feel yourself start to crest over the wave of your climax. 

“Close,” you breathe out.

Quinn pays you no mind, just continuing his ministrations until you’re clenching down on his tongue with a whimper. Your hand clutches his hair, trying not to seize up beneath him as you come, riding out the waves with his tongue still poking around inside of you.

He moves more slowly as you come down from your first, withdrawing his tongue from your cunt and licking over the slick that accumulated after your orgasm. 

“Again,” Quinn murmurs. He doesn’t allow you to take a breath before he finds your clit with his tongue and latches on. 

He seems committed to making your subsequent releases quick. His mouth feels like the tube of a vacuum against your clit, unrelenting and merciless. He’s sucking, and sucking, and sucking. 

Quinn is starting to get sloppy. He’s got slick all over his lips, all over his chin. He stares up at you now, nothing behind his hooded eyes. He’s just taking you in, looking at you from his favorite angle. 

His hands are resting on the insides of your thighs, laying securely to keep your legs spread for him. His pupils are dilated, massive and dark. His jaw works– you can see the bones in his face shifting as he tastes you. His face is scruffy as he nuzzles against you.

It isn’t long until you come again, just as strong as the first one. This climax seems to hit you harder, just because it came more quickly.

“Another,” he says into your skin, shifting one of his hands to push a finger into your heat. He doesn’t move his mouth from your clit, only intensifying his suction. 

“Fuck,” you reply, halfway between a moan and a cry for… something. A break? For more?

You’re not sure. Things are starting to blur together and turn fuzzy. You’ve come twice without a moment of reprise, because that’s what Quinn wants. You’ll give him as many as he desires, until you physically cannot give any more.

You close your eyes and lose track of time, seeing stars the next time Quinn makes you come. He’s worked up to a second finger now, scissoring them and removing his tongue from your clit to shove it between his fingers. All three are inside of you, bringing you over the crest again.

Then, a third finger and his tongue on your nipple. 

Then, again, with his tongue on your other nipple. 

Another with his mouth pressing insistent kiss after insistent kiss to your cheeks, lips, and neck. 

Your vision is black, then reeling with colors like that scene in Ratatouille when Remy mixes all of those different flavors, then like television static on an old TV. 

“One more,” Quinn’s voice comes out of the darkness.

You whine, high in the back of your throat. 

“I know, sweetheart,” Quinn murmurs. He’s touching your face, wiping underneath your eyes. “I know. You’re doing so well. You’re being so good for me. I love you so much– give me one more on my cock, okay? Then we’ll be done.”

“Quinn,” you keen, opening your eyes and finding it hard to look at him through the wetness there. You hadn’t realized that the overstimulation had gotten to you so much– but that’s what multiple orgasms will do to you. That’s how you react when your body is experiencing so much pleasure that it’s painful.

“That’s right, baby, I’m right here,” Quinn assures you. You can feel his cock nudging against your entrance, which feels like it’s gaping. You’re certain that your clit is swollen from the stimulation, the excessive stimulation. He sinks into you, inch by inch, cooing quietly to keep you grounded. “You’re so close already, I can feel it in the way you’re squeezing me. It’ll be quick, baby, I promise.”

He continues to talk while he fucks you, telling you how good you’ve been. He tells you how sexy you are, how perfect. He tells you how hard he’s been since you walked into the bedroom in your dirty, pretty lingerie and how he honestly thought he was going to come in his pants when you clenched down on his fingers for the third time and a weak dribble of your cum had dripped down his wrist. 

You’re far gone. Sure, you’re there– you can feel him inside, pumping into you and throbbing against your walls. You can feel the way Quinn’s lips move over your own when he kisses you and when he speaks, feeding the words directly into your mouth. His fingers are toying with your puffy clit, and you’re sure it feels nice, but all you can feel is heat and friction.

“Quinn,” you say again.

“Let go,” he instructs under his breath. “Let go for me. Come around my cock, baby.”

You nod, agreeing to a seemingly-impossible task. 

Quinn is always able to make the impossible happen. Your final climax manifests in shaking legs and bolts of lightning in your stomach, churning and folding in on itself. Your eyes are squeezed shut, tears leaking from the corners, which Quinn kisses away.

He doesn’t come inside you. After you reach your final peak, he pulls out. He jerks himself above you, continuing to kiss your face and praise you for being so good to him. He comes all over your stomach and you’re glad– if he had come inside you, or somewhere equally as sensitive like your tits, it would be far too much when the time came to clean you up. With his cum on your stomach, he’s able to wipe you down without causing you any discomfort.

When it’s all over, he helps you sit up and drink your water. He kisses your temples and your forehead, your cheeks and your jawline. He surrounds you with one of his big t-shirts, like a massive hug, and he pulls you onto his lap so that you can collapse into the crook of his neck. Quinn rubs your back and convinces you to eat some of the berries you brought into the room earlier.

You’re tired when you’re able to verbalize a full sentence again. You’re exhausted, really. Quinn pushed you to your absolute limit, although you’re not dissatisfied with the way things went. You sought a night where he could do whatever he wanted, which he did, and now you want to sleep.

“Happy birthday,” you muster.

Quinn breathes out a chuckle, cradling your jawline as you stain his neck with a splotchy kiss. “Thank you again for being so perfect,” he says. “You made my birthday so special, baby. Let’s sleep, okay? I’ll cuddle you all night long.”

Within minutes, you’re drifting off to the lullaby of his breath.

[melancholyhigh]

CRUSH CULTURE.

ft. college au!leon x reader

synopsis. you fuck up at being leon’s wingman, ruining his chances of getting a valentine’s day fuck. he’s frustrated and takes his anger out on you.

tags. 2.8k words. smut. mean!leon, lowk angsty, reader is kinda pathetic, angry fuck, dry humping, cunnilingus, dom!leon, rough sex, unprotected p in v, degradation, name calling (bitch, whore etc.), happy ending (?).

note. i’m sorry for being so inactive and rarely being online. school sucks so bad. i hope you guys can accept this as a formal apology. (let’s ignore that this is 2 days late.)

masterlist. reblogs & comments are highly welcomed :3

You aren’t the biggest fan of Valentine’s Day. You're sick of seeing everyone fall in love, watching lovers exchange cheesy gifts and bashful smiles. You’re sick of people pretending they love each other more than they actually do. No, you’re sick of being left out.

You were a hopeless romantic, chasing love only for it to fall flat. You were obsessed with finding your other half, the person who would cherish you as much as you treasured them. You didn’t know if you loved love or just the idea of it, but it wouldn’t matter.

You’re only hopeless as you help the man you liked hook up with someone at a shitty college party.

It’s pathetic, truly, chatting up some sorority girls and putting a good name out for Leon while he stood beside you. You didn’t get why he couldn’t do it himself. He was handsome, albeit a bit awkward, but so were you. It’s why you two got along anyway. Leon was watching as you tried to get the drunk girl’s attention on him. Throughout the night, your wingman skills had only failed. They either did not pay attention to you or paid too much attention to you.

You were sick of it. You would have preferred staying in your dorm room and rewatching one of your favourite rom-coms. But you were only a fool, trying to help your friend out. It hurt more being there with him as he lamely tried to pick up girls in front of you. You didn’t know what was more pathetic, his terrible jokes or the state you were, absolutely heartbroken that he wouldn’t give you the time of day he’d give to random girls.

Maybe it’s faith’s cruel way of commentating on your desire for love by making you play cupid for the only person you seem to care about more than yourself.

You and Leon had something special, or you had hoped so. You met in your first year of college. You were both fucking awkward that you had to initiate the first conversation. Majoring in similar subjects, you both had gotten along well. You would even say you were best friends, but you knew deep down you always wanted more.

Ever since you first met, you found him enthralling. It only got worse as you got closer. Learning more about him seemed to solidify your pining for him. You were the only person he talked to, and vice versa. You confided in each other, maybe more than what close friends should, so it was only inevitable that he would share with you that he wanted to lose his virginity.

You had looked at him perplexed. Leon was pretty attractive, and maybe you were biased, but how had no one fucked him? You’ve seen the way girls look at him, blushing when he even glances at them for a second.

That is when Leon told you he planned on trying to hook up with some girl at the party, and he wanted your help because he knew he would fuck up somehow. You had humoured him. Nothing more romantic than taking a random girl home on Valentine’s Day and fucking her brains out.

–-

“It’s not that serious, Leon,” you groaned for the umpteenth time. You were both walking back to his apartment after unsuccessfully trying to hook him up with some sorority girl. He was grumbling behind you, pissed and sexually frustrated.

“It was your fault.” You roll your eyes at his statement. When you reach the door of his flat, you observe as he clumsily takes his keys out, trying to open the door. He finally manages to open the door, and you enter, taking your shoes off before settling on his couch.

You watch him beyond amused at his predicament as he paces back and forth in front of you.

“Why did you have to mention that? They were so into me before you fucked it up,” he huffs, stilling his movement to glare at you.

“C’mon, Leon. I’m sure they couldn’t give a fuck that you’re a nerd,” you said, repeating the same word you had let slip when you were praising your beloved best friend. You peered back up at him, acting casual as if his icy gaze didn’t have your heart beating wildly against your chest. You rarely saw him angry, and when he was, he never directed it to you.

“You ruined my chances at finally getting laid. I don’t know how to talk to these girls. You’re the only person I have.” He’s frustrated with you for fucking up whatever chance he finally had at popping his cherry. Even though logically it’s not your fault nor your duty to get his dick wet, he didn’t want to take responsibility right now.

“I think you’re overreacting,” you sighed, standing up and moving towards him. You try to put a comforting hand on Leon’s shoulder, and he shrugs your touch off him. You don’t take it to heart. He’s a few inches taller than you, head slightly tilted as he looks down at you.

“Yeah? Well, now I have no one to fuck tonight.”

“I can change that,” you quip, and you instantly freeze at your own statement. You part your lips lightly in shock as you observe Leon’s reaction. It was a freudian slip, and it seemed to be happening more often than you’d like.

He continues looking down at you with furrowed brows as he tries to comprehend what you said. He thinks this might affect your friendship if you even mean what you said. He was horny, being teased all night by pretty girls in skimpy dresses, only to be denied, fucking furious too.

“Really?” He responds, somehow stepping closer to you. His eyes flicker down to your lips, and you try to back up, only to be pushed against the wall by him. His stare is still cold, piercing through you. He’s still pissed at you.

“Are you still mad?” You mumbled, your back flat against the wall of his living room. You knew the answer. You just wanted him to say it. Maybe you found his mean side more attractive than you’d like to admit. It was so rare to see him like this — a usually composed man so broken.

“Yes, I’m still fucking angry. Do you want me or not?” He seethes. You squeeze your thighs together at the tone he uses. You were so pathetic, getting wet at him berating you, but any attention was good attention.

He notices your reaction, grinning to himself. “You backing down?”

You shake your head no in response.

“Beg for it then. Beg for me to fuck you. That’s what you want, right?” He says, mocking you. It’s as if he knows how deep your desire burns for him, how badly you’d do anything for him if it meant he noticed you. His hands grasp your face, his fingers squishing your cheeks together as he forces your head back against the wall so you look up at him.

“Please, Leon. Fuck me. ‘M all yours.” You plead through pursed lips. Your eyes are glossy, and he’s laughing at your desperate nature. He would have never expected his best friend to be a whiny mess within his grasp.

He lets go of your face before leaning down, capturing your lips into his for a needy kiss. Your eyes flutter shut, and a surprised gasp escapes you. Teeth clashing, you’re whimpering desperately against his lips as you entangle your fingers into his soft golden locks. His hands trail down to your hips, gripping them as he moves his body against yours.

You let out a soft moan, and he pulled apart from the passionate kiss. Both your lips are swollen and covered with your shared saliva. He continues to grope your body eagerly as he pushes you further into the wall. “Shut up. I don’t want to hear you.”

Biting your lip, you try not to let any moans slip free while he toys with your sensitive body through your clothes. He hooks one of your legs over his hip while he explores your body. He grinds his hardening cock against your crotch, and the action does little to quell the ache inside you.

Your back arches off the wall, your head tipping back as you try to buck your hips to his. Digging your nails into his shirt, he hisses slightly, but your movements don’t get past him.

“So fucking desperate,” he moans loudly.

He continues to rock his clothed erection against your cunt. The rough fabric of your pants provides enough friction through your damp underwear to your clit. Your hand clamps around your mouth shut, suppressing your whines as you near your climax.

Leon’s eyes close while he groans lowly at the pleasure coursing through him as he ruts against you. He wants so badly to feel your dripping cunt against his throbbing length. Just as you’re about to finish, he pulls away, panting, and the feeling in your core dissipates.

“I want to fuck you properly.” You’re unsure if he knew what he had just done, but with the smug look he’s giving you, you’re positive it’s on purpose.

You push yourself off the wall of his living room, and with trembling legs, you follow him to his bedroom. You were familiar with the area and used to the messy appearance while you two were either doing work or binging shows. But it’s different now, he’s going to fuck you dumb in it.

You both begin to rid yourself of your clothes once you’re inside. You’re fully nude, lying flat on Leon’s mattress, and your skin feels tacky with sweat as it clings to his soft sheets. Leon is only in his boxers, precum staining the fabric, as his strong palms spread your bent legs apart to admire your bare pussy.

You realise that this is most likely his first time seeing one other than in porn videos he jerks himself off to. He marvels at how wet you are, your folds glistening with your slick. Leaning down, he buries his face between your thighs, lapping at you.

His tongue teases your entrance before slowly moving to your clit. He alternates between sucking on your sensitive nub and lapping at it slowly. He looks like he’s concentrated as he focuses on pleasing your cunt, his brows furrowed and his nails digging into the flesh of your thighs.

You can’t help the moans and sighs that slip past your lips while he eats you out. The pleasure is nearly dizzying as you grip the sheets. Your hips are bucking against his tongue, and Leon groans as you use his face. He’s not so subtly grinding against the sheets, his cock painfully hard as he fails to relieve the sensation.

Tentatively, he slurps at you, drinking in your essence. The wet, sloppy noises your cunt makes are embarrassing, but he’s obsessed with it and your taste. It’s addictive. He sucks at your clit roughly, adoring the reaction you give him. Your tummy clenches as he pays attention to your throbbing bud. Your sounds are getting more frequent as your orgasm quickly approaches you.

When you finally come undone, your thighs are quivering around his head as he revels in your release. He parts from your cunt, his lips coated in your cum like lip gloss as he licks them clean. Trying to collect yourself, your chest heaves as you pant heavily.

Leon slips his boxers down, revealing his hard-on. His cock was flushed red and dripping with precum as he stroked it. It was average in length but quite thick and prettier than you had imagined. But you shouldn’t act surprised.

You let out a whimper when he slid the tip of his cock through your folds stained with your cum and his saliva. Your pussy was overstimulated, spasming as he teased your entrance with his head.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” he groans, gripping your hip to steady himself. The heat of your cunt was welcoming as it tried to suck him inside you. His tip touches your overly sensitive clit. He was quickly losing his composure, desperate to fuck you open.

You both moan simultaneously when he fully enters his length inside of you. Your walls were sucking his cock deeping into you, filling you up to the brim with nothing but him.

You had not imagined your first time with Leon like this. You daydreamed of him taking you out on a cute date before undressing you and then fucking you slowly on a bed littered with rose petals. You did not anticipate that he’d split you open on his cock as a last resort taking his sexual frustration out on you. You can’t complain with how good he’s fucking you, even if it’s out of spite.

He begins thrusting his cock in and out of tight pussy, groaning. You feel each ridge and vein of his cock as he fucks the shape into you. You sometimes forget how well-built he is, usually concealed by his clothes, sweat dripping down his muscular frame.

“Your cock feels so fuckin’ good, Leon,” you gasped out loud, your nails digging into his biceps as he stretched you out of his fat cock.

“This was your plan, huh? You wanted me to fuck you, whore.” He says as he punctuates each word with a thrust.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as the tip of his cock presses against you deliciously. You did want him all to yourself, but you wouldn’t go as far as to sabotage him. You’re unable to answer him, too drunk on his cock bullying into that one spot inside of you.

“Answer me, bitch.” He huffs, gripping your jaw and positioning your face to his. He looks into your eyes only to note how they can barely stay open. His hips stutter at your fucked out expression. He was so fucking close, his abs flexing, only holding out so you can cum first.

“Y- Yeah, Leon. Want to you all for myself,” you stammer incoherently, tears collecting at your waterline as he pounds into your oversensitive cunt. Your walls grip around his cock sporadically as you near your climax.

“You like me too, then?” he mocks through clenched teeth. Your pussy hugs him tightly, and he thinks he might never want to leave your warm embrace.

“I’m so close,” you cry out, your body squirming in his hold. Your peak was rapidly approaching as he continued his assault on your pussy.

“Answer the question then you can come,” he whines, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, leaving marks as he nears his peak.

“Mhm! Yes, I’ve always fucking liked you, Leon.” You cried out, eager to expose all your secrets to him if it meant you came. As you climax, your pussy milks Leon’s cock as it gushes around him.

“Oh fuck. I’m gonna cum,” Leon moans, his voice breathy as his orgasm crashes after yours. He doesn’t know if it’s the weight of your confession or the whimpers that escape your throat that send butterflies in him as he spills into you. He kisses you one last time, moaning into you as he rides his high.

Pulling out, he collapses right next to you. You’re both panting, covered in cum and sweat. A wave of exhaustion overcomes you, and you hope he doesn’t bring up what you said amidst fucking. You’re content pretending it didn’t happen if it meant you wouldn’t get to face your fears.

“Thank you for uh,” Leon trails off, and it's like a switch flipped. He’s bashful at mentioning that he had just lost his virginity as if he wasn’t calling you a whore a few minutes ago. Turning to his side, you come nearly face-to-face with him once again.

“Mhm, you’re welcome, I think.” You’re still unsure how you feel about the situation. Finally, you had fucked him, but what significance did it hold to him? Your eyes flutter shut, sleep finally overcoming your wrecked body. You expected the same would happen to Leon, but you were wrong. Leon was in deep thought.

Leon calls your name, cutting your sleep short. You snap your eyes open, sitting up, you await his question with your arms crossed. He looked uneasy, but you’re too drained to question why.

“Did you mean what you said? That you liked me.” His voice is quiet as he gazes at your form.

“Uh, yeah,” you mumbled in response. What was even the point of lying anymore? His cum was dripping between your thighs. What is the worst he can do? You think you can already guess his response. Guilt was eating at you. He wouldn’t be in this position if you did what he wanted. You added, “Sorry for fucking up your night.”

It’s quiet, and you’re nervously trying to gauge his reaction until he breaks the silence.

“I think I found someone better,” he responds. You laugh at the mere absurdity of the entire situation.

“It took fucking me to find that out?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — KATSUKI BAKUGOU. what’s one more?

about. now that your kids are all grown up, you’ve gotten to thinking about having another baby with bakugou again.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, suggestive and smutty, fluffy, some dub-con, baby-trapping mention, breeding, unprotected sex mention, reader is a mother, bakugou is getting old hehe, they have three daughters lol, fem!reader, pro hero!bakugou.

i imagine that when your kids get a little older and start becoming more independent — your eldest in their final year of U.A, the middle starting U.A and the youngest still kicking in middle school….you catch a whiff of baby fever again.

it’s not even that everyone around you is having kids, most of theirs are well into their teenage years and giving your old friends trouble. it’s more that you miss the tiny pitter patter of feet throughout your house, the gummy giggles and scent of baby safe soap. oddly enough, you find yourself yearning for the late night feeds and the laughter shared over the inherent explosive bakugou diaper bombs.

speaking of your husband, you kind of hate how good he is with kids. he’s always treated your daughters like princesses, spoiling them rotten and raising their standards so that no possible crush could ever compare to the way their daddy treats them. but he’s so tender with the littler ones he visits as part of hero work, the tiny fans that ask him to sign his trading cards or their backpacks.

it’s adorable and still warms your heart to this day. to the point where you’re jumping bakugou’s bones every chance you get without actually telling him you want another one of his big headed babies. of course, he’s only a man and he’s not going to question why is wife of nearly two decades keeps presenting to him like a bitch in heat after lights out and the kids are asleep.

perhaps that’s why bakugou doesn’t question (on the one night where you have a child-free house) the way you toss away the condom, the way you take it raw and clench down on his cock like your life depends on it. why you squeal all high-pitched for him to fill you up with tears in your pretty eyes — how could he say no to you?

his pretty little wife, his lover, hot piece of ass to love and fuck to his hearts content.

what good, loving man isn’t going to cum in his wife when she begs and cries for it?

it’s not until your trained and doughy thighs lock around his slender waist to pull him into your frothing sex that bakugou realises. you’re doing this on purpose.

and by the time he does realise, he’s filling you up to the brim, sloppy white leaking out of you while you cum around him just like you always do — taking him so well, smiling up at him like you’re on top of the world.

“you fuckin’ leg locked me!” katsuki pants through amused laughter, collapsing on top of you with a sweaty and heaving chest.

“nuh-uh!” comes your quick reply, angling your hips up so that he slips deeper into you.

katsuki gets up soon after and disappears to the bathroom, not before prying your legs off of him — knowing full well he had the strength to do so earlier. if he really wanted to. “my own wife… you tried to fuckin’ baby trap me!”

“no i didn’t!” you pout defensively, brows furrowed and nose upturned. your expression only softens when your husband gives you a pointed look and moves to wipe the mess drying against your inner thighs. “okay…so what if i did?”

you loop your arms around his neck with a purr, toying with the silvery-blonde baby hairs on the back of katsuki’s neck and looking up at him with vixen eyes like you’re about to devour your prey. “we can not have another baby,” he tells you simply, kissing the crown of your head when you hiss at the sensitivity. “was i too rough?”

there’s a rasp to his voice, the kind that’s only prominent after hours of singing your praises in the bedroom. it makes you smile, close your eyes in content, and shake your head ‘no’. “why not?”

“havin’ a baby isn’t like gettin’ a puppy ‘nd you know that, sweetness,” bakugou hums quietly, soothing over the bruises he’d left on the soft handles on your waist. he thumbs at the stretch marks and tigers stripes, the very markings that show you were a mother to three of his beauties children. “we gotta focus on makin’ sure kasumi gets into a good agency, if not mine, and don’t get me started on the other two—“

“—but we could do it. right? i mean we’ve done it three times before. raised a baby, what’s one more?” you do your best to sound convincing while you sit up and cling to your man, pleading with those puppy dog eyes that got you knocked up the first time almost eighteen years ago. “don’t you want a little boy?”

“three girls are more than enough.” bakugou pushes your face away playfully, forcing you back into the sheets so he can lie on top of you. “we’re not as young—“ he starts, but back tracks after being on the receiving end of your heated glare. “i’m not as young as i was when we had our first. ‘n shit, my back hurts and my eyes are gettin’ bad, and our kids… they’re exhaustin’, babe.”

the both of you share a laugh. upon brushing a hand through his hair, katsuki trills happily at your affection. “you’re still a good dad. you’d be an even better to our next. even if you’re a little achey in the knees, old man.” though you’re teasing, you really do mean every word you say. raising your kids has been trial and error from the start, but bakugou’s been strong the entire way through — wanting nothing but the best for his family and always putting them first. “plus, the kids are with the kirishimas for an entire weekend, and you’re telling me you haven’t thought about fucking me raw again?”

“jesus woman, you’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, aren’t you?” katsuki twitches against your leg once again, crawling up your body to capture your lips in a hungry, syrupy kiss. “you’re right,” he groans against them, loving the feeling of your tongue on his. “fuck, you’re right. spread your legs, sweetness. wanna fill this pretty pussy with my cum.”

“yes daddy…” you mewl in reply while a winning grin tacks itself to your lips l face between uncoordinated kisses and surprised moans once your husband eases his throbbing cock back inside of your tight heat. mumbling something about how it feels like home.

needless to say, neither of you are surprised when the next pregnancy test you take is positive. now you just have to explain the baby supplies in your Amazon basket to your three teenage girls.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.