Drew my favourite character from Kpop Demon Hunters heheh.... Baby my beloved <3
It's still crazy to me that I can draw humans now. I used to draw exclusively furries and just animals in general, and considered humans to be way beyond my artistic reach... and now here I am ( ･ω･)ﾉ
I 100% blame this fandom for getting me back into art, writing, reading (fanfiction especially), and basically every other artistic hobby I've kinda lost over the years. I lost the joy in doing all those things that were important to my identity for the longest time. But then I hyperfixate on one movie, and it's all over for my free time ( T∀T) /pos
tags/details: fem! reader, slight dom/sub aspects (vv minor), implied established relationship, softer! baby saja , smut, p in v sex, oral sex (f-receiving)
note: First time writing for KPDH, and baby, so I am still figuring out his characterization. i hope we like!! (Also requests are open pleek 🌹)
18+ (below cut)
IT CAME AS NO SURPRISE, that even in a group such as the Saja boys, the most innocent of the flock seemed to have the darkest side to them; Baby Saja. With his soft, rounded face and soft colours, it came as a surprise to any new listener to learn that his lyrics came to have the most hidden innuendos.
Like the fox, they were cute and fluffy looking, but if you played with their paws, you came to realize just how sly they can be.
However, as the Saja boys released more albums, singles, or solos, Baby seemed to keep the track record of having the filthiest sources, each song having a hidden underlying meaning written in a deep red, something beneath the surface, a sin awaiting discovery if you looked into the subtle word play and obvious tension.
Fans speculated how Baby, someone who seemed so disinterested and nonchalant, seemed to carry the most game when it came to raps heavy with such deep need. How someone could inspire someone on such a pedestal of purity and softness to be dragged to the very pits of hell willingly.
No one knew that he was a demon, and no one knew of YOU, his muse, who left his head spinning with ideas of how to make you shake with pleasure, and how to bring those ideas to life, both in action and in execution and on paper.
“Mm.. you taste like what I imagine sin to taste of.. no, maybe pleasure..”
The deep drawl of his voice is felt more than heard as he murmurs into your messy cunt, the brush of his tongue along your clit with each word has you squirming. Your thighs, which were nestled on his shoulders to give him easier access to his meal, shook as he dove back in.
It should be cruel, how easy it was for Baby, to focus on something such as lyrics while he had you shaking under his messy tongue. But you couldn’t bring yourself to ponder on it from one glance at his golden eyes, glossy as they furrow, eyes fixated on your reactions.
His hands gripped you closer, his slightly sharper fingernails digging into the flesh of your hips as he dragged you impossibly closer as if the proximity was starving off his inspiration.
You choke on a breathy noise, eyes fluttering shut as his lips close in on your swollen clit, and he sucks hard. It makes you see white, your back arching, unable to control the pleasurable tremor in response to the rush of heat sent directly to your core.
“There we are, you’re doing so good for me, look how wet you are for me..” Baby mutters along your thigh, lips travelling west to kiss your thigh, lightly nibbling the sensitive skin there with his sharp canines. His tongue wrote sonnets on your thighs, as if he were trying to indicate what he saw through action alone.
He lets one of his hands travel from your hip, and you feel as the sharp nail recedes to a softer, more human finger. The ghostlike touch makes the muscles in your stomach clench, and as it travels south, it joins his tongue.
You can hear just how slick you are as his fingers enter your canal with little resistance, the lewd sensation making your cheeks impossibly warmer, and his smug grin becomes sharper. Dangerous.
It felt dangerous as his two fingers scissored your inner walls, and it felt lethal as they curled up just right, in a pot that Baby knew had you trembling, teetering closer to the edge of abandon.
It was dangerous just how well Baby knew your body, what made you tick, and twitch. But your every noise, and reaction, and your warmth made his own brain tick, and react, and it inspired him in the filthiest way it could.
“B-Baby— fuck..” You try to call his name, desperate to communicate your needs, your urge to hold him closer, but get interrupted by your moan, forced out by a particularly strong flick to that spot that had you twitching.
His fingers continue to curl into you, in time with how his tongue draws slow lines to drink up whatever bit you would grace him with, his usually blue eyes seeming to glow a faint gold as he becomes lost in the taste of you, lost in his world.
“So, so well..”
He groans into you, low and broken, and it makes you shake, and you get so close to the edge that you can almost taste it.
And Baby notices it before you even do, because as soon as your thighs begin to clench around his head, and your hands curl into his hair, he pulls away, making you feel cold. Like a candle on the cusp of melting, your flame was blown out, leaving you half-melted and feeling used.
You know he is smiling in amusement before you see him, eyes blurry as your overwhelmed senses are left unattended too. He could be mean, and as much as you were into that side of him, you glared at him the best you could.
And the bastard dares to laugh?
As his fingers leave your cunt, your thighs shake as you watch how your slickness spreads along his fingers, and it drips down his wrist. You try to feel ashamed, but can’t bring yourself to when you see how gone baby looks, his amused grin lost to a hungry look in his eyes.
His fingers come to his mouth, and he groans, low and husky, at the taste of you alone. Your lover has always been a fan of sweets, but as you watch him suck him, trail that sinful tongue down his wrist just to chase the flavour of you to its last drop, you’d think you were the rarest treat on this planet.
“I won’t leave you high and dry, relax,” Baby tries to sound casual as he licks his lips, but it’s hard to believe it from just how dilated his pupils looked, how drunk he looks from your taste alone. “I just think it’s time for us to do a duet, no?”
You should find those words corny, and as you try to make fun of them, you have to stop yourself as he lowers your hips to meet his own, and you feel his leaking tip along your glistening folds.
That shuts you up real quick.
It seems to satisfy Baby as he draws your ankle to his lips, and he kisses along your leg as he bullies his cock head along your clit, teasing. It has its desired effect as you gasp, light and fleeting, as you realize what he is waiting for.
“.. please.” You utter quietly, and he raises a brow, making you almost roll your eyes. However, that sass is lost as one hand comes to your clit, and pinches.
It makes your hips stutter, and you lose whatever nerve you had left.
“Please, baby, ‘need you soso bad–” you drawl, voice soft but desperate as you look into his now gold eyes, and fuck, he may not be as tough as he thinks, because it takes one look into your blissed out eyes and suddenly, he is biting his lip.
Entering you means losing himself to your fluttering inner walls, to the tight friction as his cock drags along your most sensitive parts. Both of you struggle to communicate through words, so instead, Baby is kissing your thighs, making small moans as you answer with words close to his name, and your own broken noises.
It was a shared melody of desperate need, a crescendo awaiting a rise in exuberance.
And the note hits the final beat as his hips meet yours, his length so deep in you that it feels sinful.
“You’re so tight, fuck,” Baby grunts, unable to control how his cock twitches inside you, which you respond to with your own clench. It’s a struggle to wait for you to adjust, but it’s easy from the prior prep, and from how turned on you are.
He parts your legs further, and as his hands hold your thighs tightly, he dips down to pull you into a clash of teeth and lips, before it melts into something natural.
He kisses you breathless, heated and full of unsaid passion, until he finally dares to move his hips.
Baby’s breathy moans into your lips make your cunt clench as you pulls out of you, only to rock his pelvis back into you, making your back arch.
When he feels how you respond to his voice, he loses all his self-control and allows himself to focus on feelings alone.
Which means fucking you into the mattress, making you lose all air in your lungs as your nails dig into his hair, and he shudders in response.
It should be cruel, how easy it is for Baby to think of so many words to describe moments like this with you. How loud you are, how damn responsive you are to even the slightest touch of his. Everything about you itches this buried, hidden part of him feels alive.
But it’s hard to articulate into proper verses, as he is as lost in the experience as you are. The best he can do is muttering absolute filth into your ear, describing everything and nothing as he drives deer into you, chasing that high that seems too close yet far.
Warm, so fucking tight and warm and perfect, fuck.
“You’re taking me so well, look at you,” he whispers into your lips, each word rough and deep in his throat. It seems his voice is doing something to you, as your walls clench around him, and he smirks into your shoulder, eyes alight with need, “You like my voice, hm? Well–”
He drags your hips impossibly closer, and you hiccup on a moan, your release coming closer as a hand dives between you too, finding your clit to toy with it. Each press has your walls tightening around him like a vice, practically wringing out his own release.
In the dim lighting of your shared bedroom, his lilac skin contrasted with how vibrant his marks glowed. They were usually dull and controlled. But with you? They did, as expressive as his words. They painted your skin a soft baby blue, and it made his brow twitch.. You looked pretty.
“It’s all yours, every word I write is yours. I’m yours,”
Your head is spinning, every sense is overwhelmed as he goes impossibly deeper, and his voice is driving you so close to the edge. You can taste it, and your eyes say it all as he moans low, and as his fingers press into your clit, he mutters into your ear, low and dirty;
“Come for me, my muse.”
Lost.
You lose yourself to raw urges alone, as your mind blanks on everything but the feeling of baby’s cock dragging along your too sensitive walls, how right it feels for his fingers to be circling your clit, and how loving his words sounded despite being so dirty.
The feeling of you coming on his cock is driving him mad, all the possible verses blanking his mind, and the forgets the reason he dragged you to bed in the first place, and instead allows himself to be selfish as he drags you closer, and goes as deep as you can, rythem lost as the song runs its course.
As you ride your high, it seems baby is close behind you, as his hips stutter, and in one last deep thrust, he manages to force himself out of your warmth to instead spill all over your stomach, his warm yet sticky release claiming you all over.
You don’t seem to notice, eyes blissed out and chest heaving as baby falls next to you, arms draped over your frame as he pulls you in, his lilac skin paling to its ‘normal’ complexation and his sharper features softening.
As you cuddle closer to him, the only demonic feature left of him is his golden eyes and sharp fangs as he nibbles at your neck, whispering soft nothings into your skin.
The two of you simply be, as you draw him closer, and Baby allows you to enjoy the hidden benefit of being his muse, witnessing his softer side as he curls into you, needing that connection despite how deeply connected you two were mere moments ago.
“.. love you..” he mutters, the low drawl of his voice again making you shiver, but you smile as he kisses your neck.
“I love you, but were you able to. Uh.. find your ‘motive..?’” you respond, voice wrecked as your eyes find his light blue ones. He looks thoughtful as he enjoys your warm skin, the silent pulse of your soul soothing him as his thoughts finally clear.
The truth was he was able to think of any lyric from the idea of you alone, that the sex was just a bonus wrapped in a bow. He wasn’t able to think of anything when he had you so close, so reactive and emotional. It was hard to think of anything else but you in those moments.
However, Baby had a role to play, so he simply smirks and bites your shoulder lightly, making you yelp as he looks at you with maybe too much affection as he replies with a lazy ‘mhmmmm!’
He could never admit that after things like this, his mind drifted to softer lyrics, ones that detail how he enjoyed your laugh, and your soft looks, and just.. Loving you.
Those were for the private ballads that were stuck on loop since the day he met you, since anyone could relate to raw human passion, but no one deserved to know how much he cherished you.
Emotion, something raw, and human, and something that was entirely foreign to a demon that lost his humanity centuries ago, to instead revel in fame.
But emotion is what brings him fame and his inspiration since it was connected directly to you, and he was unable to separate the two.
So, he continues to let the public see him as too-cool and chaotic; it’s the price of fame.
He lets his emotions belong to you, though. As they always will, like how those endless verses play in his head, awaiting a pen and paper for it to be written down.
WORD COUNT: 2.4k
FINAL NOTE?: uhh sue me for liking the character with 2 mins of screen time.. and making him oddly soft hahah..
SUMMARY: The infamous couple moved to Maine and it's their first Winter with proper snow (and married!!), and when you two go to the ice rink for inspiration, Cove struggles with the change of weather.
TAGS/NOTES: Hurt/Comfort, Reader uses they/them, Reader is also a writer, Cove and reader are married, vv minor angst, no use of Y/N
A/N: This was my entry for the Winter Community Contest and was originally written for my MC, but I decided to adapt it to be an x reader. Enjoyy!
Growing up with the sounds of the ocean crashing against the tides and instead relying on a white noise machine for relaxation was a huge shift. This was and still is hard on Cove, no matter how much he changed and grew. Some scars are still healing.
"Wow, I haven't seen icy lakes like this since... Well, last winter," You call out, your gaze captivated by the still ice rink that was left isolated, save for the couple. "No matter how many times we come here, I can never get used to this."
California was much too warm to see a glimpse of snow, but Maine was able to experience both the highs and lows of the chilly season, which you fell in love with, while Cove held his breath for the warmer seasons.
"Yeah... me neither," Cove chimes in, his response less enthusiastic. The pants he had to wear to not become a Cove-cycle were uncomfortably restricting his movement, hockey stick clutched in hand.
Cove, the ever-committed water-related athlete, was trying his hand at hockey. He never got much of a chance to play it while the two of you were young, and well, this is the closest he’ll get to the water at the moment.
"Thank you for coming out here with me, Cove," you turn to clasp his much bigger hands, blatant affection in your pretty eyes, a look Cove could never say no to. "I have been in a writing block as of late and well... This helps."
You were a small author, having a few books released and a sizable but dedicated following for your work online. You have come so far, from being so embarrassed about sharing your work with him during late nights to now being someone others looked up to for your creativity. He knew you could do it, and pride and love always flared like a fire inside him whenever you mentioned your work.
So, biting back the complaints on his tongue, Cove grins as he clenches your gloved hands, a contrast to the usually cool skin. Cove missed it but knew he was being silly.
After one last tender look, you let go to return to skating, focus going unfocused with ideas and thoughts. Cove wishes he was left alone with a hockey stick and cold feet. His gaze drops to the lone hockey puck on the ice, and he sighs, the hot air floating in the air before disappearing.
Cove didn't hate Maine, no, he loved it. He loved the friends they made there, the job he got within the ORCA branch that kept him close to where his heart beckoned for him - the sea. He especially loved the life he grew with you there, and their beloved dog and fish.
It's just... different.
He misses only having to wear a jacket or a long-sleeve to combat the cold, still being able to smell the salty air, walk on those sandy beaches, and not risk frostbite just to go outside. Cove and winter were never the right mix, and he dislikes how pouty he can become at odd moments like this.
So, when he went to take that shot, to take his inner turmoil out on something physical, it was oddly ironic how he missed, and that miss caused him to stumble, and as his arms tried to stabilize himself, he ended up looking wackier than he wants to.
Cove stumbles with a crash that resounds out on that quiet lake, and as he lands on his ass, Cove mutters out a quiet "Darn it", embarrassed that a small puck was able to take down the fumbling giant, and how worried his partner looked as they dashed over.
"Cove! Sweetheart, are you okay?" You call out, concern evident on their features as you skid to your knees, hands on his burning cheeks to assess his injuries. "That sounded like a nasty fall!"
Cove laughs weakly as he tries to find your eyes, only to realize how blurry they are. He squints, and with an embarrassed grin, he puts a hand on their wrist, leaning into your touch.
"I'm okay," he laughs, the sound awkward even to his ears. "Just... Where are my glasses?"
You dramatically gasp and dives for the offending red frames which slid to his left. Cove stops himself from smiling when you almost slip, and then goes back to him, looking like a clumsy deer. You hand him his glasses quickly, and Cove carefully takes them, taking the chance to fix his hair as well.
Silence comes, chilly and oddly awkward for the two, as Lumi crouches near him, trying to help, while Cove forces his eyes away, that bad nervous habit from when he was 18 coming back full swing.
Sadly, from knowing each other since they were 8, you clock the habit, and they frown, sitting on the cool ice slowly, ready for the long haul. Cove feels both relieved and frustrated, mostly at himself for making this about him.
"Sweetheart, is everything okay?" you ask slowly, keeping your eyes on the ice, knowing Cove needs a bit of time. "You have been off this entire afternoon. I let it go before, but I want to talk now... If you want to, of course."
Cove bites his lip, and runs a gloved hand through his tousled sea-foam green hair, shivering as the ice is chilly against the jeans of his pants. After a long moment, Cove cracks, like a fresh layer of frost against the slightest pressure.
"It's not you or anything like that," he says, quick to reassure you, "I just... Everything is different compared to California."
You stay silent, and Cove peeks at them through his lashes, seeing you look confused. His eyes return to the frozen lake, looking deeper into the frozen aquatic sea life below, how everything was just stuck... Like him.
"I am used to the warm weather, and sunny skies, and not having to wear thick coats and well... The concept of natural ice ponds is like this," Cove knocks against the thick ice, expression sombre. "I know it's a bit silly, but at times like this, I miss Sunset Bird, and the beach and well... The hill we met on, the warmth."
He takes a deep breath, a habit burned into his memory from all those times he made you do it yourself when you got upset and noticed how you followed his habit, causing a small smile.
"I love Maine, I do, and I don't want to up and move or something," he mutters, feeling his cheeks redden in slight shame. "But winter sucks, and well... Yeah."
It's quiet, as quiet as the first snowfall they witnessed just earlier this season. It was your first time seeing authentic snowfall, and you were so excited, acting like a small kid despite being an adult, even if he was 24. Cove returned that excitement, catching snowflakes on their tongues and running around as if they were catching fireflies.
Memories like that made him feel so warm, and happy, and he knew it didn't matter where they were, but the change still was fresh. It sucked, to be frank.
Finally, he feels a familiar headrest against his shoulder and a small sigh. He risks looking over, noting how pretty you looked with fresh snowflakes in your hair. You think, expression thoughtful as you cuddle against him, and he pulled you in easily, the movement familiar.
"I know how you feel," you admit softly, which made Cove a little surprised. "I sort of miss not having to spend 10 minutes every morning dressing up to go outside, or the icy roads, or well... Frostbite."
You nuzzle closer to Cove, eyes falling closed as you enjoy his constant stream of warmth. Something else which was the same, no matter how many layers he was forced to bear.
"However, it's okay to feel upset about the change," you hums. "It's okay to not like it right away, Cove. It's so different than our normal, and well... I think that's the most exciting part."
"... Continue," Cove prompts them after a beat, and you giggle, making Cove's storm of emotion cool for a moment.
"I think it's... Wonderful we get to experience different things together," you explain, tone affectionate as you grasp his hand. "Like, we used to have to go and pay to go on fake ice, but now we have the real thing right here. We get to cuddle for warmth, and well... I get to have my pretty husband hold my hand as the snow falls."
Cove can't help as his cheeks warm and a dopey smile takes over his face. You catch it, and you return the smile, your eyes softening with fondness.
"It doesn't matter where we are, you are my muse," you remind him, getting on your knees to cup his face, gaze trying to find his teal ones. "You are the constant I will always have with me, no matter if it's the warm beaches or chilly ice rinks of Maine... You are what keeps me feeling warm, Cove."
Cove's cheeks were burning red now, and you laugh fully now, leaning forward to kiss his nose. Cove squeaked, but stopped them with a gentle hand to the back of their head. You look confused before he gives you a proper kiss on the lips, slow and sweet.
Now it's your turn to be embarrassed, gestures of affection always easily make you turn warm, no matter how many times it happens. Cove smiled fully now, the sweet words from earlier on repeated in his head as his lips still tingled.
"I can see why so many people love your writing, Lulu," he teases gently, knocking his forehead into yours softly. "You are too good with your words."
"... t-thanks..." you mutter out, and Cove's smile broadens further, now a grin.
If Cove was the summer, then you were like the winter, with cool, icey skin, and patience as thick as the deepest pine woods. You were kind and gentle, but if you took the chance to explore those wintery woods, your footprints would be left behind, leaving a fond memory in its wake.
He was warm, and you were frosty to new people, but you balanced each other out. Maybe he liked winter a bit more now.
"You know I feel the same way," he says, with affection. "I love you, and Maine, and I am happy I can be here with you."
He kisses your forehead one last time before freeing you, allowing you to burrow into his chest instead. The ice was still cold, and his behind was freezing, but he ignored it for now to hold you close, happy to be cold later.
"Thanks for being patient with me," he finishes gently, and you laugh, the sound muffled by his coat.
"It comes with experience, space cadet," you return, making Cove chuckle as he held them.
Even as the scarf felt stuffy, or how his rear end hurt, or if the shine of their united wedding bands were hidden by the mitts, he still felt so warm.
It was their first year in Maine, and it was different-- in both the good and the bad. But one thing would always remain a constant, no matter where they end up.
