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help-whatdoimakemyusername · 2 days ago

Note

I scoured the blog for a framework of what I am about to ask but, I didn't find anything similar so this is going to feel silly.

Can I request a scenario of Silver, after a horse riding club show, where the reader is extremely downbad for this set? They cannot keep their mind off of pieces like his riding crop, leg harness, gloves, etc... the two have been dating for a little, but the reader has never actually seen him this way before. They are a certified fumbler, so even someone as oblivious as Silver notices something is off about them after his show. Gender neutral pov or female pov works, I don't mind either one. I would prefer smut, but if not, just regular is fine 🫣

SILVER X READER

Where you're crazy about with his Equestrian Club uniform

WARNINGS: This fanfic is based on Silver's Equestrian Club card, the descriptions of his uniform. It contains smut with oral sex, him giving it to afab!reader. Soft dom on Silver's part perhaps? I really loved this one, I hope you enjoy it <3

It was just a horse riding club show.

Just a simple friendly event out on the NRC grounds. He told you about it last week. Invited you. You even packed snacks. Brought your dumb little blanket. Thought oh this’ll be cute. A day to support your boyfriend, Silver, and watch him do his thing.

Maybe sneak a kiss when no one was looking. Something wholesome.

What you weren’t prepared for was whatever the hell that outfit was.

Like, yeah, obviously Silver was attractive. You’d been dating for a few weeks now, and even before that you’d been nursing a big dumb crush on him for forever. But this was criminal. Whoever handed him that equestrian uniform with the tall polished boots, fitted coat, white gloves, RIDING CROP—should be locked up immediately.

You’re not dramatic usually. But right now, you were spiraling.

Because he wore it too well. And worse: he was good at this. He looked natural. Elegant, even. Hair tied back loosely, posture regal on the horse, face serene and focused.

Meanwhile, you were sitting on your little picnic blanket gripping your juice box. The way he dismounted? That cocky little swing of his leg over the saddle, crop tucked neatly under one arm like a prop straight out of your delusions—girl, you were gasping. Internally. But it showed. You hadn’t said a word in ten minutes.

And Silver noticed.

He was walking toward you now. Still in the outfit. Still in the damn gloves. And sure, he was oblivious about a lot of things—but this? Even he could see something was off.

“...You okay?” he asked, tilting his head as he stood over you. His voice was soft like always, but his brows were slightly furrowed. “You’ve been staring off since the show ended.”

“I’m fine!” you said too quickly. “Totally normal! Just… admiring the sunset!”

It was 3:45 PM.

Silver glanced over his shoulder. Blinked once. “…It’s the middle of the afternoon.”

You wanted the earth to open up and swallow you whole.

“I meant the light! Y’know, how it hits your, uh… vest.” You waved vaguely in the direction of his chest and instantly regretted it.

Why was that part of the outfit fitted? Who tailored this?

“...Hm.” He crouched next to you on the blanket, legs folding with the kind of casual grace that should’ve been illegal in riding pants that tight. “Are you sure you’re alright? You’re flushed.”

YOU KNEW.

You pressed the juice box to your cheek. “Totally fine. Perfectly hydrated. Great weather. Nice horses. Good show. You were… great.”

Your voice cracked on that last word.

Silver tilted his head again, those pale blue eyes fixed on you. Like he was trying to figure out a puzzle. You had never been this awkward around him before.

“I didn’t do anything differently,” he said slowly, “but you seem... really nervous.”

“Me? Nervous? What even is nervousness? Haha. Sounds fake.”

“…You’re doing the thing where you start laughing at nothing and then don’t look me in the eye.”

“HA. No. I’m literally making eye contact right now—”

You absolutely were not. You were looking at the gloves. And the crop. That was now in his lap.

God. It was over. You were a gooner. You buried your face in your hands.

“Okay,” you mumbled into your palms. “I need you to not judge me, but I have a confession.”

Silver leaned forward slightly. “I’d never judge you.”

You peeked through your fingers, defeated. “...You in that outfit is doing things to my chemistry.”

He stared at you. The wind ruffled his bangs.

You waited for him to say something. Anything.

“…Things like…?”

“You know what I mean, Silver—” You groaned, flopping backwards dramatically onto the blanket.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since you showed up in those stupid boots and your dumb gloves and your IDIOTICALLY PERFECT—I don’t know! Everything! You’re all serious and focused and, and it’s… It’s not fair.”

Silence.

You refused to open your eyes. Absolutely not. You were about to dissolve into grass. You were part of the blanket now. Goodbye.

“…Oh,” Silver said after a moment. His tone had shifted Warm. “So that’s why you were staring at my hands.”

You made a sound. A pitiful oh no kind of whimper.

Then: gloved fingers gently brushing yours. You peeked up again.

He was smiling. Just slightly. Not teasing, exactly—just soft. Curious.

“I didn’t realize the uniform would affect you that much. I’m glad it did.”

Your heart absolutely stopped.

“I was starting to think I’d done something wrong. You’re usually so confident around me. It was strange seeing you so flustered.”

“I was confident. Before you came over here looking like a fantasy out of my dreams.”

Silver tilted his head again, but this time, his gaze sharpened a little. Just a fraction. Something shifted behind those soft white lashes.

“…Do you want me to keep it on a little longer?” he asked quietly.

You choked.

“SILVER—”

He leaned in.

“Or,” he murmured, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, “maybe you’d like to see what else it can do to you.”

You sat there blinking like a fish.

Silver stood up calmly. Dusting off his gloves. Offering you a hand. “Walk me back to the stables?”

You nodded. Slowly. Like you were possessed. He helped you up.

“By the way,” he added as you walked beside him, “I don’t mind if you stare more.”

You tripped over your own feet.

He caught you.

You don’t remember the walk to the stables. You’re pretty sure you blacked out somewhere between him offering you his hand and the moment he led you into the quiet space.

It was warm in here. Dust motes floating. Straw scattered. The scent of horses and leather and Silver and oh god you really were about to do this in a stable weren’t you.

He closed the stable door behind you. Turned back. Still in that goddamn uniform. Boots creaking. Crop tucked behind him. Still wearing those white gloves.

“You’re quiet again. Are you nervous?”

You laughed, shaky. “A little.”

“Do you want to stop?”

“No.” Immediate. Almost desperate. “I want you. Just… I think I’m malfunctioning.”

He smiled, slow and soft. And that’s when he stepped close. Gloved fingers brushed under your chin. Tipping your head up like he knew exactly how fragile you were feeling.

“You said the outfit was making it worse,” he murmured, thumb ghosting over your lower lip.

“Should I take it off?”

You grabbed his vest like a lifeline. “Don’t you dare.”

Silver blinked. Then smirked. It was slight. Barely there. But it was a crack in the calm. Like a ripple in still water.

“Okay. Then I’ll keep it on.”

And then he kissed you.

You’d kissed before. sweet little things. Sleepy ones. Occasional heat when he had you pinned to the Ramshackle wall with a just "one more". But this? This was different.

You gasped into his mouth as he backed you up against one of the wooden stall doors. His hands were everywhere—one cradling your jaw, the other on your waist, gloved fingers slipping under your shirt. And the leather—soft, worn—was making your brain go static.

You whimpered.

Silver pulled back just enough to breathe against your lips. “That sound…”

“... you heard it? fuck." you whispered, mortified.

“Of course. You're not exactly quiet, Yuu. I like it.”

You let your forehead thunk lightly against his chest, groaning. “You’re so unfair.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he said, gloved fingers teasing the hem of your waistband. “Just rode a horse.”

“Exactly.”

You kissed him again to shut him up, this time with less hesitation. Pulled him closer by the belt loops on his pristine white breeches. You should not have looked down. That much confidence in one outfit was illegal.

Silver groaned into your mouth when your hips brushed.

“Oh?” you whispered, dizzy with how hot your face felt. “Do you like my outfit too?”

His breath hitched. You felt his grip tighten on your waist.

“I like your reactions,” he muttered, “a lot.”

He backed you up fully into the stall, crowding into your space until your back hit the wooden wall and your legs were pressed together tightly. The leather crop had been set down somewhere near the tack hooks. Your eyes flicked toward it once.

Silver noticed.

“...You keep looking at that.”

You refused to answer.

He leaned in close. One gloved hand sliding down your arm torturous. He kissed under your ear, then down your neck, tongue flicking against the skin.

“You want me to use it?” he whispered.

You squeaked.

“Not like… that—!”

His breath ghosted over your collarbone. “Then how?”

You buried your face in his shoulder. “I don’t know!! Just… hold it or something. Be mean. Something.”

Silver chuckled.

“Alright,” he said, stepping back, chest rising with a slow inhale. “I’ll try.”

You barely had time to process before he grabbed the crop and walked back to you with it lazily dangling from his fingertips.

He brought it up—not to hit you, not even to touch you, but to trail the edge of it lightly under your chin. Tipping your head up again.

“Look at me,” he said, voice lower now. “Don’t look away this time.”

You whined. Your knees buckled.

He pressed forward. Mouth on yours again. Teeth grazing your lower lip. You clung to his vest, nails scraping down leather and cloth. Your legs parted almost on instinct and he stepped between them.

One gloved hand slipped under your skirt.

You gasped—then bit your lip hard. “Silver—”

“You’re so warm already,” he murmured, fingers teasing you through your panties, featherlight. “Is this really just from watching me ride?”

“I hate you.”

“You’re lying,” he said gently, sliding the crop under your thigh to lift your leg around his waist. “You want this too badly to hate me.”

You whined again as his fingers finally slipped beneath the fabric. His mouth was on your neck now, licking and kissing and nipping. The gloves made it worse. They shouldn’t feel so good, so controlled—like he knew exactly how to touch you with them.

“Silver, I’m gonna—”

“Not yet,” he said, pulling back just enough to look you in the eye.

Then he lowered himself to his knees.

You lost it.

He’s on his knees in front of you.

Still in uniform. Still in gloves.

You’re pressed back against the wooden stall wall, skirt hitched up, one leg thrown over his shoulder. You had no idea Silver had this in him. All that sleepy andquiet energy masking a man who knew exactly how to make you fall apart.

“You look beautiful like this,” he murmured, voice smooth. “So flushed.”

“Silver—” You gasped as his gloved hand slowly slid along the inside of your thigh, spreading you open more, steadying you as he leaned in.

And then—

His mouth.

You let out a little moan as his tongue slid over you. He worked you open like he had all day to take his time—he wasn’t rushing anything. He was tasting you like he wanted to memorize every reaction, every twitch and whimper.

You clutched the wooden beam behind you with one hand, the other tangled in his silver hair, trying not to pull, failing miserably.

He groaned against you.

“Please—” you whimpered.

Silver looked up at you from between your thighs, eyes heavy-lidded with focus.

“Tell me what you need,”

“Silver I can’t—”

“Yes you can.” He kissed your inner thigh, then moved back in, faster this time, tongue circling your clit while his fingers slid inside you. Two at once. Smooth. The gloves made every movement feel intensely focused—just the right kind of friction, slick and warm and—

You cried out, hips jerking as he curved his fingers just right.

“Silver-!”

He hummed. Hummed. Like he liked hearing that. His free hand gripped your thigh to keep you still.

You were unraveling. You were panting, trying to beg, trying to warn him—

“I—I'm gonna—please—”

“Let go,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

And that was it.

You came hard, trembling, moaning his name into the dusty air, your fingers curled tight in his hair. You swore you saw stars. You might’ve blacked out for a second.

When you finally started breathing again, you realized he’d already stood up—hands on either side of your waist, holding you steady.

He looked wrecked. Hair messy from your hands. Lips flushed. Glove on one hand damp from you. And still—he smiled.

Soft and genuine.

“How are you feeling?”

You looked at him.

Opened your mouth. “You’re not allowed to take that uniform off ever again.”

Silver chuckled, low and sweet. “So you really do like it.”

“I might have a uniform kink now. I’m not sure. I need to lie down.”

He laughed again and leaned in to kiss your forehead. Then your nose. Then your lips. Slower this time. Softer.

“I’ll get you some water,” he murmured. “And maybe a blanket. You’re shaking. We can go back to my room after you've recovered a bit. Riddle and Sebek must be wondering where I am; there was a celebration after the race.”

You smiled as you let him gently kiss your cheeks and nose, placing loving kisses on your face while you scratched the back of your neck.

"Yes, going to your room would be nice… but I'm afraid Lilia will see us. Your father is too clever and will surely suspect something."

"don't worry about Father. I’ll take care of you,” he promised, laughing a little. “Always.”

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help-whatdoimakemyusername · 19 days ago

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Y/n: *after meeting Camilo for the first time* I have one rule: don’t touch me.

Camilo: *immediately grabs Y/n’s hand and holds it*

Y/n: …

Y/n: I have no rules-

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help-whatdoimakemyusername · 19 days ago

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Am i the only one who's wondering where all the encanto writers went? Cus God damn were those the shit once that movie came out.

Sure there were a few questionable ones but I was low-key down for the yandere ones.

The platonic ones were probably my fav ngl. Or the ones where reader has powers. Y'all were eating that shit up fr.

Opinions?

Repost plz!

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help-whatdoimakemyusername · 19 days ago

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What if I make a Camilo Madrigal x reader fic?

I do adore that boy as well <3

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help-whatdoimakemyusername · 24 days ago

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Multi-Character x Nerd! Reader

warning; none except my endless yapping !! author's notes; *comically loud gulp* it's finals season so i decided to drop this before grinding my grades and whatnot😿 gave all the characters different random interests of mine sooo yay !

PERCY JACKSON- Flowers

i like to think percy is pretty neutral about flowers; not his favorite, but doesn't hate them

but when you stepped into the picture ? ALLLLL of that changed !

probably has a flower language book sitting on his bedside table just because of you to be totally fair

because of you, he buys really specific colors (or asks the Demeter cabin to grow him some) of flowers for you because of their meanings

for example, he ABSOLUTELY got you yellow tulips when he asked you out :3c

as much as he's a blue guy, he knows what they stand for (hopeless love) and thought it'd be sweet

sometimes you name a flower he knows NOTHING about like what on earth is an azalea ??

listens to you carefully regardless since he finds it cute how often you ramble about why orchids are associated with royalty

received flowers for the first time from you and he's kept them ever since, claims it's because he keeps forgetting to get rid of them but he's just a sap like that

very supportive of your interests and WILL stay up for hours to hear you talk !

ANNABETH CHASE- Astronomy

at first she thought you were talking about astrology and wasn't all that interested, but then she saw the massive amount of books you had on the stars and understood

dare i say she takes you on stargazing dates where you just point out all the constellations and all the stars we'll never see

has watched about 8 space documentaries in one week, and still isn't tired of it

also ! when ever she's drafting up home designs, she ALWAYS puts a room with a glass ceiling or balcony so you can put your telescope there

she swears it's just for the visuals but she not very good at hiding it(i love you sappy annabeth chase <9)

bought you one of those little star projectors when you guys moved into New Rome !

you guys also made paper lanterns of all the planets + pluto and hung them up on the ceiling since you rarely get to go out much one you go to college

speaking of pluto.. you guys didn't speak for three days over an argument over the basis of it being a planet or not. annabeth refuses to say it is because scientifically it's not, but you say it is because "emotionally it's a planet to me !" (real conversation i've had btw)

takes you to the planetarium whenever you guys have the spare time mainly just to see to get all animated over all the facts you've probably already told her

she absolutely adores you no matter how many times she's heard about all the dwarf planets..

CONNOR STOLL- Comics

deep in my heart he's a flash or spiderman nerd, so it's perfect !

safe to say, if you like anyone else, you guys might dispute who the best superhero is every other day- lovingly of course !

dates probably consist of walking around comic books shops and talking about your favs or reading them in your cabin

swapping off comics whenever you finish one so you can talk about them

has absolutely stolen merch for you on numerous occasions because he can he let the love of his life go without that batman mug ?

definitely makes up insane theories about what happens whenever his favorite character dies..

"no, no, no, he's gonna come back in the next one, trust me !" "con.. he literally blew up." "SO DID JASON TODD BUT HERE WE ARE"

dare i say y'all have matching spider man and gwen or batman and catwoman keychains ?

you probably got him really into young justice on accident because you mentioned him reminding you of wally west(PLS TELL ME SOMEONE SEES THE VISION-)

honestly, you guys are just nerd for nerd but he won't admit to it as easily

LEO VALDEZ- Sharks

scratch what i said about connor being nerd for nerd, you and leo are THE nerd for nerd couple !!

made you a wind up shark toy as a gift because he was bored, and it was basically a marriage proposal to you

has definitely fallen asleep to you talking about sharks before ! not out of boredom, just because he likes your voice

moving on ! y'all know those cardboard sharks people were making ? well, he made you a metal version of your favorite shark !

takes you to aquariums whenever he can, which is rare, but he thrives off of hearing you get excited.. like a kid in a candy store

he also has a crazy supply of gummy sharks in the bunker now for whenever you come over

he has also made you shark shaped string lights because why would he ever let you buy anything ?!

let's you cover his well, everything with shark stickers ! workbench ? sure ! festus ? might protests, but if festus like it, alright !

you told him he'd be a hammerhead shark, and he now has a keychain of one on his belt loop at all times

he rambles to you about mechanics, so in turn you talk about sharks; it's a win-win situation :3c

YAYYYYY PSOTING AGAIN AND IT'S ABOUT MY INTERESTS !!!! this was actually in the drafts for a minute and WAS supposed to drop saturday but i got impatient- love y'all and uhh see you after finals !

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help-whatdoimakemyusername · 27 days ago

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SAJA BOYS x HUNTR/X’S ASSISTANT!READER

PLOT: So here you are, the sweet little assistant to HUNTR/X. Not anything like Bobby, no. You’re the only human they let in on their secret of being hunters, and your job is to help them out the best you can. Fetching the weapons, patching up wounds, memorizing demon looking ppl, preferably without fighting because you’re ass at that. You’re smart, sweet, know what will the girls do next.

Which is exactly why the Saja Boys decided to kidnap your ass.

Oh, they still look like a wet dream, don’t get that twisted. But they deadass snatched you up because you know too much. You know how the girls work. You know where they’re going, what they’re planning, how to hurt them.

Except, you won’t talk. Not even when they tried. And oh, they tried. Little threats. Little games. Little moments that left bruises.

Now? You’re a guest in their fancy-fancy high-rise apartment in the human world that they have so they don’t have to go back and forth between worlds. More like their prisoner, but the fridge is stocked and you’re not chained anymore.

cw: implied female reader, kidnapping situation, a shit ton of cursing, Romance being a flirt, a boner, mentions of sex, Mystery being curious about your body, boys being boys and fucking with you. Part 2 here

You stand at the sleek marble counter, a knife in your hand, slicing through a peach.

Behind you, Romance’s laugh fills the room, deep, as Mystery literally tackles him over the back of the couch. They hit the floor with a heavy thud, limbs tangled, and Mystery growls.

Romance? He’s grinning. Loving every second.

“Damn, if you wanted to get me on my back you could’ve just asked.” he purrs, voice smooth.

Mystery’s response is to sink his teeth—actually sink his teeth—into Romance’s shoulder.

“Fuck—ah, yes, harder!” Romance groans dramatically, shoving at Mystery’s face but clearly not trying to get him off.

You just keep cutting your peach, the juice sticky on your fingers.

Abby’s sprawled in an armchair, bouncing a stress ball off the wall hard enough you’re certain he’ll crack the plaster. He’s wearing a tank top that shows off his arms and his attention span is shot to shit. He’s been drumming his fingers, cracking his neck, muttering to himself about needing to do something.

Baby’s on the floor, cross-legged, looking at his phone what he grew to love so so so much since they figured it out. He actually looks like he has no idea what’s going on but doesn’t care anyway.

Jinu is in the kitchen, not far from you, sipping tea like none of this is happening. His hair’s still a little damp from a shower, and he looks… normal. Calm. Like he could be your neighbor, the guy who helps carry your groceries.

He notices you’re out of reach of the fruit bowl and slides it closer without a word.

“Thanks.” you mutter, not looking up.

Not forgetting that you fucking HATE his guts!!

“You’re welcome.”

And that’s the thing with Jinu. He’s nice. Too nice.

You slice another piece of peach. Try to pretend you don’t hear Romance moaning as Mystery bites him again.

Baby snorts quietly, still scrolling.

You just keep slicing fruit, silent, petty, waiting for the moment they let their guard down. Not happening.

Romance walks over eventually, leaning against the counter next to you. His scent hits you—fuck you in the ass it’s good. Why does it have to be good?

“Need help with that, angel?” he murmurs, voice like velvet, fingers brushing a piece of peach off your plate and popping it into his mouth.

You don’t look at him. “Fuck off.”

“Alrighty.”

He doesn’t move though.

Mystery, now perched on the arm of the couch, watches the two of you , you’d guess. You can’t see those fuckass eyes.

You remember the first meet.

God. The girls just finished, you gave them all the luxury they could ever need then went back to your apartment. Exhausted. Filthy. You got home, peeled off your clothes, stepped into that shower, and thought—finally. Finally, you could breathe.

Then, a bold whistle from behind you.

You turned your head, soap stinging your eyes, and there was….

Drumroll…

🥁🥁🥁

Romance.

Yes indeed, the fucker whistled.

You froze. Completely naked, completely vulnerable. He moved fast—too fast—hand over your mouth, body pressed up to the shower glass.

“Don’t scream. We’re just gonna have a little chat.”

You wanted to kick him. You really did. But he had you pinned, all casual, like this was just another Tuesday for him.

“Options.” he murmured, thumb stroking your cheek like he was trying to soothe you. “You tell me what I wanna know. Or—and I like this one better—I take you with me.”

You glared at him. You hated him.

(Since your girls did too and know he’s a demon but anyway)

But what could you do? Naked, trapped, outmatched. So you nodded. Let him hand you a towel. Let him grin when you dressed in whatever you could grab. Let him walk you out of your own damn apartment like he was your date for the night.

You snap back to now, slicing that peach a little too hard. The knife hits the cutting board with a sharp thunk.

Romance notices. Of course he notices. He always notices.

“Careful, baby. Gonna hurt yourself.” he teases, snagging another piece of fruit from your plate like he has every right.

You don’t answer. Just cut another slice, the peach juice sticky on your fingers.

Then there was the time you tried to run.

You’d waited until late. Until they were sprawled out, arguing over anything, distracted by their own bullshit. You’d crept to the door, so quiet. Almost made it.

Baby caught you. Not with strength. With a simple:

“Hm?”

And then Jinu was there. Calm. Closing the door gently. Taking your arm, leading you back.

“Don’t do that, okay?” he’d said, as if you’d just made a small mistake. Like it wasn’t a big fucking deal.

Romance had clapped you on the back when you were forced to sit back down. “A+ for effort, though.”

Slice. Slice. Another piece of peach.

Mystery’s watching you now. Not saying anything, just watching. His head tilted, into your direction.

You finish slicing the peach. Set the knife down.

Romance steals another piece, grinning at you over it.

Mystery growls under his breath at the whole thing.

Abby’s already forgotten about you, too busy flicking Baby’s ear to annoy him.

Jinu’s watching you quietly, you’d guess. Don’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him.

You remember that time you bit Romance.

God, the nerve of him. You were done—so done—with him always getting too close.

D-O-N-E.

That time, when he cornered you to get things out of you. “C’mon, angel, just tell me a little secret. Just one. I’ll owe you.” He’d said. “You’re so tense. I can help with that…”

And you just snapped. Lunged in and bit his arm as hard as you could.

And the fucker?

The fuck?

He winked at you.

Didn’t pull away. Didn’t cuss you out. Just grinned like you’d given him a gift. “Easy, girl.” he said, voice low, leaning in so close you could feel the heat of him. “Didn’t know you liked it rough.”

You wanted to scream. Instead, you glared and tried to yank free, and he let you—only because he felt like it. Not because you could have escaped him.

You organize the little peaches on your plate. They looked quite cute.

You tried to stand your ground once.

Told Abby to back off, to leave you alone. And what did he do?

He laughed. That easy, bright, warm laugh like you’d just told him a joke. Then he slung his arm around your shoulders and practically dragged you down the hall like you were his best bud.

“You’re funny as hell.” he said, ruffling your hair like you weren’t glaring daggers at him. “C’mon.”

Asshole.

“Where you think you’re going, superstar?” he’d teased last time, when you made it to the elevator and thought, for one sweet second, you were free.

You’d fought. Kicked. Swore.

And he’d just laughed, hoisting you up like you weighed nothing. Carried you back down the hall like you were some drunk friend at a party, not a prisoner.

“C’mon now. You know you’re not going anywhere. Let’s not make it weird.”

Baby shifts where he’s sitting, lazy as ever, glancing up from his phone just long enough to take a sassy look at you.

Then there was time they played good cop/bad cop on you.

Mystery had you cornered in the kitchen. Not even saying anything—just standing there, too close. You’d tried to sidestep him. He’d mirrored the move, blocking you without touching.

And then Romance walked in. All relaxed, all casual. Slid in between you and Mystery, arm around your waist like it was his right.

“Ease up.” he said to Mystery, but his hand tightened on your side. “She’s not gonna run. Are you, angel?”

You bite into a piece of peach now.

Or there’s the night you tried to lock yourself in a room.

Abby broke the door down. Just… busted it open like it was made of cardboard.

“Don’t do that, babe.” he said, happy af, picking you up like you weighed nothing and carrying you back to the main room. “You’re gonna make us feel bad, hiding like that.”

You’d pounded at his chest. Tried to fight.

And he’d just laughed again, so warm, so easy, like you were play-wrestling.

You put the cutting board back, close the cabinet a little too hard.

There are also mind games. Oh, the fucking mind games.

Like how Jinu always helps. Always so polite, so considerate. Slips a glass of water into your hand when you’re too angry to ask. Pulls out a chair for you. Puts a blanket over you when you fall asleep

(and yeah, you pretended to be asleep that time. sue you, you were cold).

And it gets in your head. Makes you second-guess your hate. Makes you wonder if maybe he’d let you go if you just asked nicely enough. Makes you forget, for a second, that he’s the one who seals the doors behind you.

Or how Baby never speaks to you unless it’s to cut you down.

That time you begged, just once, just quietly, just to Baby because the others were too busy fucking around, you asked him to help you slip out.

And he’d looked at you. Just looked. And smiled that tiny, mean smile of his.

“Cute that you think anyone here gives a fuck what you want.”

Yeah, when he doesn’t currently not give a fuck about what’s happening around him, this is what you’ll get of him. Allat pretty face is a waste, fr.

You wipe down the counter, scrubbing too hard, like you can erase their fingerprints from your space.

And Mystery.

Mystery, who’s so feral you almost thought you could use that. That maybe he was the weak link. That maybe his violence meant he didn’t care about the plan, that he’d let you go just to spite the others.

But no.

Like the time you tried to sneak a phone off the coffee table, thinking no one was looking.

Mystery had crossed the room in a blink, snatched it out of your hand, and grabbed your jaw so fast your ears rang.

His nails had pricked your skin. His breath had been hot, his growl low.

“Don’t.”

One word. That’s all. And then he let go like you were nothing. Like you didn’t even matter enough to punish.

You open the fridge, shove the plate in, close it again like the slam of the door can drown out the noise in your head.

You turn, walk closer to them in the living room so you look more genuine, sweet like sugar because you can’t help it. That’s just how you sound.

“Can I use the sauna?” you ask.

No one says anything for half a beat.

Jinu the asshole the FUCKING asshole hums. “In exchange for some information, you know. Tell us a thing or two.”

You groan. Actually groan. And before you can stop yourself, you do the tiniest, most frustrated little kick at the air. Just a flick of your foot, like you’re trying to shake off the annoyance. Just a little kick. Adorable, really. A stupid, tiny burst of frustration because this is so fucking unfair and they know it.

And that’s when Abby, quick, grabs your leg mid-kick.

“Gotcha.” he says, voice bright. And the worst part? He doesn’t even look at you. He’s already turned back to whatever dumb shit they’re talking about, your ankle resting in his grip.

And now you’re there, balancing on one foot, arms out a little to steady yourself.

“Abby—let go—!”

But he’s not paying you any mind. His fingers loose but firm around your ankle, like he could crush it if he felt like it, but he’s just holding it.

As if you’re some toy he forgot he was playing with. Fucking asshole.

Romance sees the opportunity immediately. He slides closer, slow, a finger tapping at your knee, then your thigh, all innocent and infuriating. “Look at you. One foot. So talented.”

You swat at him, trying to push him away, but that just makes him laugh.

Mystery, meanwhile, is staring at your leg. Head tilted, curious. Like he can’t decide if he wants to pounce on it or just… study it. It’s been a while since he’s seen a human girl this close. That’s obvious in the way his gaze lingers too long on the shape of your calf, the flex of your foot as you wobble.

Baby is absolutely checking out your ass.

Not even trying to hide it.

One glance over his phone, those eyes sliding down, a little smirk ghosting at the corner of his mouth before he looks back at his screen like he’s the innocent one here.

You hop a little, trying to tug your leg free, still balancing awkwardly. “Abby—seriously!”

But Abby just laughs, chatting with Jinu, your leg still in his grip.

Romance pokes at you again. This time at your side, grinning when you squirm. “Careful, sweetheart. You’ll fall and hurt yourself.”

You try to stomp your other foot, frustrated beyond words, but you’re already jumping on one leg, and that just makes all of them snicker.

“Abby!”

“Hmm?” His voice is unbothered, eyes still not on you. “Oh. Right. Forgot I was holding you.”

Liar.

“Nah, c’mon—tell us a secret.” Abby says.

You tug.

He doesn’t budge.

“Abby.” you hiss.

But it’s useless.

Romance pokes you in the side, fascinated by the way your curves move.

“Stop it—” you try to swat at him, but you’re too busy trying not to fall flat on your ass.

Romance laughs, brushing your hand aside easily. His fingers brush your free ankle lightly, just to mess with you, and you nearly lose your balance again.

“Seriously, let go.” you snap, hopping on your one foot, trying to twist free.

But Abby’s grip is firm, not tight enough to hurt, just impossible to break.

He still isn’t looking at you. Instead, he’s grinning at Romance. “Hey, look at this—” he lifts your foot slightly, turning it in his hand like he’s inspecting it “—her foot’s like half the size of yours.”

Romance, of course, is lining his foot up next to yours while you’re still caught there, balancing. His grin is all teeth. “Tiny.” he says, delighted.

You’re burning up with embarrassment now, face hot, heart pounding for all the wrong reasons. You’re jumping a little, trying to shake your foot loose, but all it does is make Romance poke at you more, fingers brushing your calf, your ankle, your side.

“Stop it!” you snap, swatting at him, but you can’t even aim right on one foot.

Baby doesn’t even hide it anymore. He leans back, arms crossed, eyes flicking between your legs, your ass, your face, enjoying every second of this humiliation.

“Alright, c’mon now.” Abby says, finally glancing at you. “Give us a little intel, and you can go steam yourself all you want.”

You’re about to lose your balance for real—arms flailing slightly, heel of your standing foot sliding on the polished floor—when finally, finally, Jinu’s voice cuts through the mess.

“You can use the sauna.” he says simply, with a small nod, like it should’ve been obvious all along.

“There you go, superstar.” Abby lets go, laughing under his breath as if this was all in good fun. You stumble, catch yourself on the couch, heart pounding, face flushed.

Romance grins, hands up like he’s innocent. “See? All you had to do was ask.”

Baby smirks, looking back down at his phone as if he wasn’t just ogling you.

Mystery sinks back onto the couch arm, still watching, but at least he isn’t about to lunge anymore.

You straighten, brushing your hands down your sides, trying to regain a scrap of dignity.

“Thanks.” you mutter, shooting a glare at the rest of them before turning on your heel and heading toward the sauna.

Romance leans back, hands up like he’s innocent. “Enjoy yourself, angel.”

Baby gives you one last look, and Mystery’s head follows you until you’re out of reach.

You huff, fixing your clothes, dignity in shambles as you stomp toward the sauna.

God, you hate them.

God, they’re fucking hilarious.

God, you hate that you almost laughed too.

Alright, so there you are. Finally. Finally in the sauna.

You thought maybe—maybe—you could steal this one small victory. After all the shit they put you through, the teasing, the games, the constant pushing and pulling, you’d gotten away.

The heat envelops you, thick, fogging up the glass as you sit there, knees tucked up, towel clutched tight to your chest.

Your heartbeat’s just starting to slow. Your breathing evens out. The sweat begins to bead at your temples, trickle down your neck, and for a blissful minute, you think:

peace.

And then.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

You freeze. Eyes snap to the glass door.

Abby and Romance.

Side by side, standing just outside the sauna with the most shit-eating grins you’ve ever seen.

And god help you,

they’re in nothing but towels.

Romance has his slung low on his hips, arms crossed behind his head. Like he knew what this would do to you. His eyes meet yours through the steam, and his grin somehow widens.

Abby’s hitched up carelessly at his waist, and he’s leaning against the glass with both hands, forehead pressed against it, breathing patterns making little clouds on the surface.

And because he’s Abby and he’s got no shame, he leans in further until his abs are smushed up against the glass too, leaving perfect imprints of his ridiculous physique.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Romance’s knuckle on the door this time, slow and rhythmic, like they’ve got all the time in the world.

These bastards have nothing but time. And you? You’re the best entertainment they’ve had in centuries. Three hundred years of whatever suffering Gwi-ma put them through, until you.

And you can tell. You can see it in their faces, the way they’re lit up like kids on Christmas morning. The way they’re making a game out of this. The way they’re not just keeping you prisoner, they’re enjoying every second of it, like you’re their favorite new toy.

“Baby girl.” Romance calls, voice muffled through the glass, drawing the words out like a slow melody. He knocks again, forehead resting against the glass, leaning down a little so his eyes are level with yours. “Come on. Don’t be like that.”

(Guys I don’t mean baby girl in a weird way I promiseeeee)

Abby starts whining. Full-on whining, dragging out the vowels like he’s the one being tortured here.

“Pleeeaaaseee. Let us in. Don’t hog all the steam. You know it’s rude.”

Your grip on your towel tightens. You shake your head, glaring, but that just seems to make them more determined.

Romance is flattening his palms against the glass, leaning his weight forward, so casual.

“C’mon, sweetheart.” he purrs. “It’s not safe to sauna alone. What if you pass out? What if you get too hot?” His voice drops lower, dripping with mock concern. “We’d hate for something bad to happen to you.”

You point at them through the foggy glass. “Stay out.”

They’re having the time of their lives.

Abby’s face is smushed against the door now, nose flattened, grinning so hard you can see the crinkle of his eyes even through the fog. He slides down slightly so his chest presses up too, leaving an actual print on the glass that you’re sure you’ll see in your nightmares.

“Come oooonnnn.” he drags out, hands sliding down the glass with exaggerated despair. “It’s lonely out here. It’s cold.”

“Yeah.” Romance chimes in, knocking his knuckles lightly again, rhythm playful. “So cold. We’re shivering.”

Neither of them looks the least bit cold. They look like gods, golden and gleaming in the low light, all muscle.

Abby presses his forehead right next to Romance’s, their faces squished together, two idiots united in their mission to annoy the living shit out of you. His abs are still plastered to the glass, leaving sweaty smudges in their shape.

Romance starts dragging out words like he’s dying of heartbreak. “Weeeee just waaaant to reeeelaaax.”

And then, before you can stop it, the door creaks open.

Romance’s hand is already on the handle. Abby’s pushing through behind him, grinning.

“You—” you start, clutching your towel tighter, scooting back like that’s going to help.

Romance plops down way too close, towel barely clinging on, stretching his long legs out. He leans back, hands braced behind him, turning his head to look at you with that maddening, lazy smile.

Abby flops down on your other side, sighing like he’s just found heaven, spreading out. He stretches his arms up, rolls his shoulders, all muscle.

“This is much better.” Abby says cheerfully.

“Yeah.” Romance agrees, eyes glinting with as he studies you, watching the way you clutch your towel like it’s the only thing saving your dignity. “See? Cozy.”

You glare at them both, heart hammering so loud you’re sure they can hear it over the hiss of the steam.

“You could’ve waited.” you mutter, trying to inch away without actually standing and risking… well, anything.

Romance leans in slightly, close enough that you can see the bead of sweat trailing down his temple, the curve of his smirk.

Then, these assholes giggle.

Giggle.

Big, strong, terrifying demons who could rip a man apart in seconds, sitting on either side of you, legs sprawled, water dripping down their ridiculously perfect bodies—and giggling like schoolgirls who just found a crush’s diary.

Romance leans forward, glancing at Abby, his grin wide and boyish and so fucking irritating. His hair’s still damp, little droplets sliding down the sharp line of his jaw, catching in the hollow of his throat before disappearing below that towel hanging far too low on his hips.

Abby snorts, eyes crinkling, that same big, bright grin that makes it impossible to stay mad at him for long—no matter how much you want to. He’s got one arm thrown over the back of the bench.

“I feel relaxed already.” Abby teases, voice low and warm.

And the giggling starts again. Little bursts of it, like they can’t believe their luck.

You press your back against the wall, eyes narrowed, clutching your towel so hard you might leave permanent wrinkles in the fabric. You feel the heat rising higher in your cheeks now, but it’s not from the sauna.

Because they’re close. So close you can feel the heat coming off them, not just the sauna’s heat but theirs. Like being caught between two furnaces.

Fuck them.

And they’re not just sitting there politely, minding their business. Oh no. Their gazes slide over you, undressing you with their eyes without a single ounce of shame.

Romance lets his gaze drop, lazily, from your flushed face to the slope of your shoulders, down the curve of your towel-clad body, he’s imagining exactly what’s under there. He doesn’t even try to hide it.

His mouth quirks up at the corner like he’s thoroughly enjoying the view.

Abby’s no better. His eyes trace you all the same. Like he’s taking mental snapshots, adding to whatever collection of moments he’s tucking away for the next time he’s bored at 3 a.m.

And it’s not subtle.

They’d hit that. No question. In a heartbeat.

Hell, Romance would have you against the sauna wall the second you blinked yes—if you blinked yes. The man has no shame. His lust, so open, so easy, it’s like breathing to him.

But that’s the thing about Romance—he knows the difference. Knows the difference between wanting to get you under him and wanting something real.

And somehow, that second thing? That’s creeping in now, too.

It’s not just the game anymore. Not just the fun of teasing you, seeing how red they can make you go, seeing how long they can keep you flustered before you snap.

It’s that you feel different.

You’re not like the other fleeting amusements they’ve found across centuries of boredom and bloodshed. You’re not just a pretty face they can toy with until it breaks.

You’re the most fun they’ve had in so long they’ve almost forgotten what fun is.

It’s growing. Quietly, steadily, in between all the teasing.

Romance, for all his shameless flirting, knows it too. His desire’s loud, sure, but this other feeling? This is different. It’s not about the chase, or the win, or the thrill of the moment. It’s about the way his heart kicks up when you roll your eyes at him, when you snap back, when you don’t fold.

And Abby? He’s the same. He laughs and plays and pokes, but somewhere in the cracks, something real’s settling in.

Something that isn’t just about keeping entertained.

You’re fun. You’re alive.

And in their endless stretch of centuries, that’s fun.

Because now, it’s not just about keeping you around for what you know.

Now, it’s about keeping you around because they want you around.

All those feelings for them, while just now, you had enough. Enough.

So you stand.

You push yourself up off the bench, clutching your towel, heart pounding, cheeks blazing, ready to make your exit.

But the second you straighten, the second you think you’ve reclaimed a scrap of dignity, Abby decides otherwise.

Big, warm hands catch your wrist and waist at once, and before you can so much as yelp, he drags you right back down into his lap.

“Ah-ah. Where you goin’, babe?” he says, voice all smooth, like you’re a kitten trying to escape bath time. His grin’s wide, eyes sparkling with that boyish light that makes you want to slap him and maybe kiss him just to wipe it off his face.

And there you are—your much smaller frame hauled back against him, towel still clutched to your chest, your legs draped awkwardly over his, skin burning where it meets his.

You squirm.

You kick and wiggle and slap at his arms, trying to peel yourself free, but it’s like fighting a brick wall that laughs at you.

“Let me go!” you snap, voice high with frustration, but you might as well be shouting at the wind.

Because Abby’s laughing now. Genuinely laughing, head tipped back a little, like this is the funniest shit he’s seen in decades.

Romance is no better. He’s doubled over, palm slapping the bench, laughing so hard he can barely breathe. That rich, boyish sound fills the sauna, echoing off the wood, making your cheeks burn hotter.

You kick again, trying to shove at Abby’s chest, trying to slide off his lap, but he’s holding you tight, like it’s nothing.

Abby leans in a little, his grin crooked now, voice low and warm, the kind of tone that makes you want to hide.

“You’re makin’ this real hard for me, sweetheart.” he says, and there’s no mistaking the double meaning.

Your heart lurches.

And, oh—you feel it. You definitely feel it.

Right there, under you.

A huge fucking boner.

And instead of stopping—instead of being sensible—you kick more. You squirm harder. Your face is on fire, but you’re determined to break free, determined to make him pay for putting you in this position, even if it’s making everything so much worse.

Abby groans low in his throat, but it’s laced with laughter, like he knows exactly what you’re doing and loves it. Loves that you’re trying. Loves that you’re flustered and mad and completely powerless.

Romance is laughing so hard he can’t sit upright, folding over himself, practically wheezing, tears streaming down his cheeks, pointing at you both like he can’t believe how lucky he is to witness this.

You give one more valiant wiggle, slap at Abby’s arm, and finally—finally—he lets go. Though maybe because he’s too worked up to keep playing

“Alright, alright.” he says, laughing, lifting his hands in surrender. “You win, babe. Go on.”

You shoot up like your life depends on it, clutching your towel so tight your fingers ache, hair sticking to your sweaty forehead, chest heaving. You glare down at both of them, cheeks blazing, trying to regain a shred of dignity.

Abby is the picture of innocence now. One leg up to hide his hard on, arms draped across the back of the bench, looking for all the world like he’s just a guy enjoying a sauna and not someone who just very nearly got dry-humped into oblivion by a squirming, furious human girl.

But of course, the second you’re upright, Romance leans forward, grinning wickedly, fingers grabbing for the edge of your towel.

“Just one little peek.” he says, and his hand shoots out, fingers hooking the edge of your towel.

You shriek, twisting away just in time, slapping his hands, stumbling toward the door. The towel stays on—thank god—but barely.

Romance collapses back onto the bench, grinning, breathless from laughing.

“Worth a shot.” he teases, voice low and sinful. “Next time, angel.”

You don’t look back. You can’t. You’re too busy marching toward the door, heart hammering, body burning, swearing to yourself you’ll never trust a sauna again.

And behind you, the sound of their laughter chases you all the way out.

You storm out of that sauna, towel clutched so tight it’s a wonder you haven’t shredded it by sheer force of will. Your heart’s hammering in your chest, skin blazing from more than just the steam, and you’re done. Done with Abby’s lap. Done with Romance’s bullshit. Done with them probably high fiving each other as you’re walking. Done with all of it.

You stomp barefoot across the marble floors, steam still rising from your skin, water droplets trailing behind you.

And then you hit the living room.

Jinu’s perched on the edge of the couch, looking every bit the composed, gentlemanly demon he always pretends to be—except for the fact that his eyes widen ever so slightly at the sight of you. His lips twitch at the corners, like he’s trying not to smile.

“You went in there with clothes on.” he says, voice mild. “I’m pretty sure of it.”

You don’t even slow down. You wave a hand at him, dismissive, furious, embarrassed beyond belief but way too stubborn to show it.

“Not now, Jinu.”

“Just pointing it out.” he says, and you can hear that gentle, teasing lilt in his voice now that somehow makes it worse. Like he’s the only one in this house capable of being nice to you, but he still can’t help poking at you when you’re like this.

You glance down just in time to see Mystery crouched slightly, head tilted, attention fixed on the hem of your towel.

His hand twitches, like he’s fighting the urge to just lift it and satisfy his curiosity.

“Mystery—”

You swat at him, fast, instinctive. Like shooing off a cat who’s about to knock over a glass.

He tries again.

“Mystery or whatever your fucking name is!”

Your voice pitches higher. You swat at him again, and this time he dodges.

Baby’s watching the whole thing from the arm of the couch, shoulders shaking as he laughs quietly.

You and Mystery keep up this ridiculous dance—him darting, trying to sneak a look, you batting him off.

Every time you think you’ve shaken him, he circles back around, silent, predatory.

“Mystery, stop it!” you hiss, stomping your foot, cheeks burning so hot you’re sure they must be glowing.

He actually listens. Pulls back just a bit, but not before giving you this tilt of his head—this weird, almost innocent curiosity, like he really, genuinely wants to know what’s up there. Not because he’s trying to be a creep. Just because he’s Mystery.

He leans back, hands up, like he was just wondering, like you can’t blame a guy for being curious.

You tug your towel tighter, shooting him a glare that promises violence if he tries it again.

Baby just tips his head back and laughs, soft and delighted.

You storm the rest of the way across the living room, muttering curses under your breath, knowing full well this won’t be the last time they pull this shit.

Because why would it be?

You’re the best fun they’ve had in centuries.

You slam the door to your room shut with more force than necessary, your heart still thundering in your chest.

The room’s quiet now. Blessedly quiet.

You take a deep breath, forcing your legs to move, crossing to the dresser where they’d dumped your things they got from there and there. You let the towel drop, pulling on fresh clothes.

But as you tug your shirt down and run a hand through your damp hair, the questions start creeping in.

Will you ever get out of here?

…Maybe.

You want to believe it. That there’s a crack in their plan, a way to slip past their too-quick hands. That somehow, the girls will come for you. That you’ll find your moment and take it. But looking at how they watch you, how they enjoy keeping you close? It’s hard to be sure.

Do the girls miss you?

Yes.

They have to. You’re not just some assistant with a clipboard and a coffee order. You’re the one who kept them safe, who watched their backs when they were too busy saving the world to watch their own. They have to notice you’re gone. Right?

Do the boys actually like you as a person?

Yes.

And that’s the most confusing part. Because it’s not just the teasing, the poking, they see you. Under all the sweet voice, the petty little kicks, the glares and the stubbornness, they see you. And somehow, they like what they see.

Is Romance always trying to get in your pants?

Yes.

But he also respects the game. And maybe, just maybe, he likes more than just what’s under your clothes.

Does Abby really think you’re cute when you fight him off?

Yes.

You see it in his smile, in the way his eyes soften when you kick and squirm and glare up at him.

Is Baby secretly rooting for you?

Absolutely so fucking yes.

He won’t say it. Won’t even crack more than that smirk. But you catch it, sometimes—in the tilt of his head, in the glint of his eye. He enjoys you. Enjoys watching you give them hell.

Is Mystery curious about you in ways he doesn’t understand?

Indeed.

It’s in every glance, every tilt of his head, every quiet lean-in. You’re new, he likes it.

Does Jinu really care?

Yeah.

The only one who treats you normally. The one who talks to you like you’re a person. The one who always seems to step in right before the others push you too far.

Are you actually safe here?

No.

Not really. Not from their games, their teasing, their endless curiosity about what makes you break. Not from the way they make your heart race, in anger or fear or something more dangerous you don’t want to name.

Are you in danger of falling for them, even a little?

…Maybe.

You flop onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, clothes rumpled and hair still damp, wondering how the hell you’re going to survive this. Wondering how you’re going to keep yourself from softening toward them when they look at you like that, when they laugh like that, when they treat you like this.

Will you ever stop hoping for a chance to escape?

No.

Not ever. Not even if they keep making you laugh when you shouldn’t. Not even if they’re the most fun you’ve ever had.

You’re getting out.

Somedays

But god—if they don’t make it hard to want to leave.

You lay there on that stupid, too-nice bed, staring up at the ceiling, the city lights leaking in through the blinds, casting stripes across your skin. And you think—fuck.

Because damn your empathy.

You should hate them. Every single one of them. For snatching you away from your life. For laughing at you when you fight back. For treating you like a kid. You should be plotting their downfall, hating the sound of their voices, the way they look at you, the way they keep you here.

But you don’t. Not really. Not deep down where it matters.

Because it hits you, lying there with your heart still racing and your body still warm from the sauna

They probably don’t know any better anymore.

It’s probably been hundreds of years since they had anything like this. Since they saw their mothers. Since they were boys, real boys, not demons, playing at being human on a stage with bright lights and screaming fans.

When was the last time they got tucked in at night, you wonder. When was the last time somebody made them soup when they were sick?

When was the last time they did human shit?

Jumped on a trampoline, if they ever had done that.

Had a snowball fight.

Built a fort and camped out in it.

Splashed each other in a pool until they were breathless with laughter, not because they were trying to drown each other but just because it was fun.

Ran barefoot through wet grass on a summer night, chasing bugs.

Sat on a rooftop with their best friend, eating about the future like it was some big, beautiful thing waiting for them.

The last time someone baked them a birthday cake and sang to them, even off-key?

God, when was the last time they had that?

You think about Romance, all charm and heat, with that constant flirt in his voice—when was the last time someone kissed him because they loved him, not because they were enchanted by his face?

You think about Abby, always teasing, strong enough to crush you but never does—when was the last time someone hugged him just because?

Baby, with not giving a fuck at anything—when was the last time someone gave him something with no strings attached?

Mystery. Ferocious, curious—when was the last time he felt safe enough to just exist?

Jinu. The only one who looks at you like you’re still a person, like maybe he remembers what it felt like to be one, too—when was the last time someone sat with him in silence, not because they wanted something but just because they liked him?

And you feel that damn softness bloom in your chest, that aching empathy that’s going to get you killed or worse.

Because you don’t blame them. Not really.

They’re lonely.

Lonely in a way you can’t even imagine, in a way that sinks into your bones and makes you hungry for anything real.

You’re not just a hostage, not really—not to them. You’re a spark of humanity in their endless dark, and they don’t want to let go.

And yeah, it’s selfish. It’s cruel, in its way. But can you really hate them for it?

Can you hate them for wanting to keep you close when the world left them behind centuries ago?

You sigh, dragging a hand down your face, trying to shove the thoughts away, trying to remind yourself—they kidnapped you. They’re using you. They’re playing with you because it entertains them.

But still.

You see the way they look at you when they think you’re not paying attention.

You see the way they light up when you kick back, when you glare, when you curse them out, when you fight—because maybe you’re the first thing in forever that’s real to them.

And goddamn it, you understand.

You don’t forgive. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But you understand.

Boys who laugh too hard when you fight them off because they don’t know how else to show they like you.

So yeah.

Fuck your empathy.

Because you see them. And you can’t unsee it.

6K notes · View notes

help-whatdoimakemyusername · 28 days ago

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀your idols and you. ♡

SUMMARY: just a bunch of saja boys NSFW prompts && drabbles. <3

PAIRINGS: SAJA BOYS/you, JINU/you, ABBY/you, ROMANCE/you, BABY/you, MYSTERY/you.

A/N: I KNOW I HAVE OTHER PROMPTS TO WRITE BUT AAAA I JUST LOVE THEM SO MUCH. <3

the meanest. ♡

the one who’ll make you plead, make you cry from being edged for too long. slap your cunt when you cum against his wishes, but mocks you for cumming too quickly. will break you. degradation galore.

BABY, MYSTERY.

the nastiest. ♡

spit, public play; maybe make his members watch while he fucks you in full nelson. has a collection of you at your most depraved: a picture from above while you suck him off, his cock coated in your mess, the bulge of your throat when he has your head hanging from the edge of the bed.

MYSTERY, BABY.

the most obsessive—err, possessive. ♡

has you covered in his bites. loves to make you scream his name, remind you who you belong to. adores how you smell jus’ like him when you leave his room. will literally scare off other men that dared to look at your direction.

oh, and jerks off to your panties.

all of them tbh. | JINU, ABBY, MYSTERY.

the sweetest. ♡

puts you first. will have you cumming five times before he can even take his clothes off. takes his sweet, sweet time in ruining you. will talk you through it while he’s riding out your sixth orgasm with skilled, circular rolls of his hips.

ROMANCE. duh. who else.

the biggest . . 👀 ( with visual, please be advised! )

ABBY — do i even need to explain? 9 - 11 inches. he's big. thick and fucking veiny. #CE7788. manscapes. has heavy, fat balls that's 'nuff to smother you, probably. will bulge from your tummy. has a sensitive tip, too. certified cervix breaker.

JINU — 8 - 9 inches. so fuckin' girthy you can barely make your fingertips touch together. has a prominent vein that runs down his shaft whenever he's hard, especially when he's pent up. bruiser. #F1A5AA. trimmed, always has a happy trail. a little curved.

MYSTERY — 8 inches. pretty smooth with a bulbous tip. leaks a lot of pre. a lot. a little on the hairy side. he adores seeing your nose buried in those darker tufts. has sensitive balls. #E9A6B2.

ROMANCE — 8 inches. the prettiest dick eveeeeer. he prefers manscaping but if you ever asked him to, yk, be a little hairier, he'll definitely grow it out for you. maybe leaning towards the left. #B56182. plump balls. lighter at the shaft, pinker at the head. has some purplish veins running down along it when he's pent up.

BABY — 7 - 8 inches. trimmed. has a fat fucking tip. #CD9F8F. smooth, but will occasionally have some veins peeking through. not as girthy, but the length compensates. don't be fooled—BABY 100% knows how to use it. he has sensitive balls, too.

most likely to break the bed. ♡

ABBY. i don’t need to explain.

most likely to ruin you for anyone else.

will have you crawling back to him. metaphorically, literally—it doesn’t really matter. you’ll come back for more.

MYSTERY, JINU, ROMANCE, BABY, ABBY.

most likely to fuck you stupid. ♡

they'll have you sobbing, shaking while every drag of his cock's making you writhe. cradles your head while he's deep, deep in you in a mean mating press. jus' can't stop fuckin' you because your cunt's too good, your expressions just make his cock throb every time.

MYSTERY, BABY, ABBY, JINU, ROMANCE.

most blessedcursed with stamina. ♡

ABBY, JINU.

praise enthusiasts. ♡

JINU, ROMANCE, ABBY.

degradation enthusiasts. ♡

MYSTERY, BABY, JINU, ABBY.

loves seeing you beneath him - ♡ missionary, mating press, etc.

ROMANCE, JINU, ABBY, MYSTERY, BABY.

loves having you on top of him - ♡ cowgirl/reverse cowgirl, lotus, straddling his lap, etc.

ROMANCE, ABBY, JINU, BABY, MYSTERY.

orally fixated. ♡

ROMANCE, JINU.

will manhandle you. ♡

ABBY, JINU.

who cums the most?

ABBY, ROMANCE, JINU, MYSTERY, BABY.

teases the most.

all of them. | JINU, ABBY, ROMANCE, BABY, MYSTERY.

"mine,"

JINU's teeth sink into your skin. he can smell your arousal, smell that cunt. he's practically salivating, tongue nursing the harsh bites he'd bestow on your soft skin. patterned dexterity aids in wrapping your legs around his waist as he sheathes into you for the nth time tonight.

"only i can see you like this. you're so pretty. my pretty human,"

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ ──

a thick bicep locks around your neck, squishing your cheeks in the process. your whimpers are more ragged, breathy, while ABBY's rutting into you from behind; hips slamming into you harshly again and again and again. "i love your fucking cunt. look at you, slutty girl. all you've done is—," his words are punctuated by a savage, punishing slam, and ABBY keeps himself sheathed, still.

"—cream all over my dick. are you sure you won't pass out— ♡ ?"

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ ──

moans are too audible in your room, alongside loud, obscene squelching that were none other than MYSTERY's fingers pumping in and out of soaked pussy. trembles visibly run through your frail, human body as he curves his fingers up, against that spot. you were so close. so, so close, but he slides his fingers too quickly, and your hips are chasing the air.

"ah-ah-ah. not yet, my pretty slut."

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ ──

fingers card through his soft locks, legs closing in on his head as his tongue flicks against your clit. the sting doesn't seem to bother ROMANCE, though, only digging into his favourite meal as he runs a long stripe of his tongue from your creamy slit up to your pillowy mons. "you taste so good, my love," he whispered, placing kisses on it.

"i don't wanna stop . . i love you, love tasting you . . "

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ ──

"n, no, do—!"

the bed creaks under your weight as you squirmed, legs kicking 'n back arching as BABY pinched your sensitive clit. "i told you not to cum. who let you cum, sweetheart? you're so cute, it's pathetic." smack! oh, fuck, the way your cunt twitches against the smack of his palm. fuck . . "s, sorry, 'm sorry . . " you hiccuped, looking at him with red, teary eyes. there was an attempt to close your legs, but a firm hand ensnares your knee; a warning guised in a thumb rubbing your puffy clit.

"i don't think so."

end,

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help-whatdoimakemyusername · 1 month ago

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zoeystery and whatever the hell they're having

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help-whatdoimakemyusername · 1 month ago

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my two favorites being shipped in the show is awesome actually

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help-whatdoimakemyusername · 1 month ago

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☕// crazy

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help-whatdoimakemyusername · 2 months ago

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“i can fix him”

“i can make him worse”

good for you. i, however, can will fuck him so hard that he literally forgets he was ever fucked up.

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help-whatdoimakemyusername · 2 months ago

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BUSINESS PARTNERS ! — luke castellan

snapshots between reader and luke, set before sea of monsters. reader is helping him with life outside of camp. gender neutral reader! word count: 1.4k

cw: not really suggestive but some subtext, mentions of suicide (of a dog💔)

authors note : im bad at chess but so is luke so its fine. also funfact canis minor is also known as prokyon!

"so how do you know this guy again?" luke repeated for the third time as you adjusted his suit. the three-piece suit was perfectly tailored to him (by your demand) yet he wore it like it wasn't.

"i told you already," you sighed, "i know a guy who knows a guy who knows this guy."

"you know a lot of guys." he raised an eyebrow.

"shut up." you sighed, deliberately making a move to step away from him.

ten minutes until your meeting starts and you have no idea how to survive luke castellan. you catch him fumbling with the cufflinks on his sleeves in your peripheral vision. with a deep breath, you stop yourself from swatting his hand and gently pulled his arm away.

"what? its not my fault the sleeves are too tight–"

"it's not too tight, it's supposed fit like that." you glared at him, "and now stop fussing around like a child."

"fine, fine." he sighed theatrically.

it would be so easy to make a jab at him—maybe the way he reaches to fidget with his rings only to find his fingers bare, or the way his oxford shoe clicked nervously against the floor, maybe even the way you had to tie his tie for him— but you dont. luke's life never offered him any of the opportunities that you have, it would be plain unfair to poke fun of him for something out of his control. plus, you dont want to sound like an elitist snob.

however, your train of thought came to a halt once the glass door opened and a red-haired woman peeked out, she reminds you of donna from the show suits.

"mr. townsend is ready for you," she said so casually yet still professional. you muttered an 'okay' and flashed her a small smile in response, making the first move to walk towards the room. you swore you saw luke's adam's apple bobbed as he averted his gaze away from the secretary. something about that made your chest tighten and the need to disappear into a puddle even stronger.

quickly gathering your composure, you sat across mr. townsend as luke introduced himself to the man, another chance at a possible alliance.

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻☾༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

luke was rearranging the chest pieces while you lounged on the couch, legs on the armrest, one hand on the tv remote. he's been crashing at your apartment ever since he left camp, you didnt mind his company. after all, he's been holed up in that camp for five years—with the exception of his quest— and eventhough the boy adapts quickly, it wouldn't feel right if you let him wander the streets of the upper east side on his own.

"so how many guys do you know?" he asked.

"what are you talking about now?" you chuckled, looking back to him and the chess board. he tries to be cheeky—even though he only started learning chess a few weeks ago— and moves his pawn to G4, exposing his bishop.

his eyes narrowed as he watched you move your pawn to the centre like every other game. "i meant your business associates. how many 'guys' do you know?"

"im sorry i cannot give you a number," you drawled out, finding it difficult to take him 100% seriously.

"so, a lot of guys?" he said, eyes fixed on you, the chess game momentarily forgotten.

"it's purely business, what's wrong with you?" you chuckled in disbelief, observing him as he observed the chess pieces.

"nothing. just wondering, you know? since we are business partners, business associates, whatever you wanna call it." he shrugged. "just wondering if they get the same treatment." his voice lowered at that last comment knowing you would glare at him. you did just that yet you offered no verbal retort.

you couldn't blame him for reading too deeply into the actions between you both, for seeing something you didnt. the lines of boundaries were astronomically blurred between you two. sharing a bed, his socks in your laundry hamper, your hands tugging on his hair, the patterns on his bare back formed by your lace curtains whenever he slept in. still, you didn't address it.

he moves his pawn to F3. he doesn't see it but you do, the way his king is left unguarded. you moved your queen to F4, grinning as his eyebrows slowly scrunched up in realisation. "checkmate."

"losing in two moves, that's talent," you grinned, receiving an eye roll from him. he sighs while rearranging the pieces, unable to back down from a challenge.

"again?"

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻☾༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

you and luke were wandering the docks late past midnight, not an unusual occurrence in your routine. you prayed no security guard would catch the two of you; silently only because you didn't know how luke would react if he heard you praying. his attention was elsewhere anyways but you didn't want to take the risk. he stared at the various yachts and ships while you opted to strain your neck for the constellations above.

"which one is your favourite?" luke asked, you didnt notice he joined you but no complaints came to mind.

"orion. he's really easy for me to find." your gaze flicked to luke's face before focusing back on the sky. "yours?"

"canis minor. i've always liked dogs." he allowed himself to smile at that.

you smiled too, "really? what's your favourite breed?"

"don't have one.. im not picky. any dog that's loyal is good enough for me, plus, they're all cute." he shrugged before looking back to the ships.

"cute and loyal, got it." you said, watching him before asking the question that has beenn plaguing your mind for weeks now. "why do you want a cruise ship so bad?"

"i keep seeing it in my dreams." he said in a tone you weren't sure was joking or serious.

you titled your head to see more of his expression, unsure if this warrants a laugh or not. "if you're serious, that is really really unsettling. major oracle or seer vibes."

his jaw visibly sets and he shakes his head dismissively. "don't call me that again."

"alright, im sorry." you apologised, foolishly hoping the tension in the air would magically dissipate at those three words. "so.. why not canis major?"

"what?" luke asked, his eyes looking you up and down.

"i mean— you said you like canis minor the most. why not canis major? why choose the *lesser* dog?" you said, meeting his gaze for a second.

"the story behind it sticks out to me the most. in some versions, it represents maera, the dog of icarius," luke explained, his eyes fixed on the ocean waves. "when icarius died, the dog and his daughter took their lives next to icarius.

there was a moment of silence as you took in the story. damn you didn't remember that part from the greek mythology lessons.

"thats...dark. isnt icarius the guy dionysus taught how to make wine?" you asked, not really knowing how to lead off that explanation.

"yeah, he was," luke nodded. "dionysus was really mad. i think he brought on a drought on the land and made people crazy."

"woah.. that's mr. D, like the mr. D who wears hawaiian shirts." you mused albeit quietly. "that's gonna trip me out."

"you know she jumped into a well and died." luke added after a moment of silence.

"who jumped into a well and died?" you turned to look at him again, eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

"the dog, maera did."

"oh, that's sad." your voice took on a softer tone. "so, you really value loyalty then?"

"yeah, you can say that." luke nodded, now dipping his toes into the water.

"if you had to choose between honesty and loyalty, which one would you choose?" you asked, now sitting criss cross apple sauce on the docks.

"honesty wouldn't exist without loyalty." luke answered, eyes trained on the water.

"have you ever lied to me?"

it was silent for a few seconds before luke shook his head, "no, i haven't."

"seriously?"

"seriously." luke affirms, and for just a second, your eyes meet in a way that makes your stomach do a little flutter.

"loyal to me or the cause?" you pressed further, asking questions you've never had the guts to ask.

"they're the same." luke answered, his tone as if he fully believes that and maybe he does, you don't really know. what you do know is the butterflies dissappeared as soon as they appeared.

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