#something about the seal pulling him back

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

New Purpose | Yandere Saja Boys x Reader

“You want me to do what?!”

The call from your awkward and friendly acquaintance in the idol-managing business leaves you in an unreadable ball of confusion. Typically when Bobby did call you it was to brag about his girls or about the latest resort he was gifted by the girls. But this time he needed your help and you weren’t sure if you were going to give it. 

“Please please (Y/n)! You taught me everything I know; if there’s anyone who can handle them it’s you.”

Bobby pleading on his knees doesn’t change your reluctance but the pleading gazes of the boy-band in question made you slow to voice it. It also was harder to refuse when you could see the shining blue shackles on each of their wrists. A marked hand slides onto your shoulder with a stealth you haven’t felt in a long time and instinctively you reach for the holster under your coat, locking eyes with the one you once deemed to be an enemy.

“It can only be you. Mx. (L/n).”

It’s the purple-haired idol who not only was rumored to have once endangered the Honmoon but mended it with strength that surpassed her ancestors. Here she was glowing with her shining demon marks in broad daylight. A part of you still found it wrong.

She took your blatant staring in stride; sending Bobby out of the room,”Mind giving us some space? I think it might land better y’know? Idol to idol?”

“Oh, sure thing Rumi! In fact, I’ll go get the celebratory ramyeun now!”

He dashed as if his life depended on it, leaving you and Rumi with the shackled demon idols. Looking warily at the hunter you slowly pulled your hand away from your holster. The fakely wide smile on her fades into something more concerning. Pressing her purple-painted lips together, it’s time to address the real elephant in the room. 

“Why are they still here?! I thought you killed them all when you made the Honmoon golden.”

She nervously smiles, “I–thought I did too. But it seems that they were sealed in the upper world instead. The only one who….didn’t make it was thanks to Gwi-Ma.” She steps away from you, putting her hand out as if to pet the “baby Saja boy.” Previously he looked as though he was dead; standing with a face that epitomized boredom. That all changed when Rumi came close. His eyes glowed that sinister yellow and his fangs were bared as he chomped at the air her hand used to be. The blue chains clink with golden chains that shine in a ripple like the Honmoon itself. 

“You must mean the leader. Jin.”

You were playing with fire. For all the shipping edits that the idol leaders were put through, anyone could’ve guessed that they were close. While you don’t have eyes and ears close to her domain, it still got back to you just how close she’d gotten with him. During Huntrix's report of the event, Jin’s returned soul was what gave the trio the power to completely exorcise Gwi-Ma. A feat that was impossible even for the first hunters to exist.

“Yes…Jin,” she spoke his name with a heavy resonance. A respect that hadn’t dulled at all because it still felt raw.

”He saved me by showing me how to accept this part of myself rather than hide.”

She held her hands in front of her playing with the light against her marks, “Still he’s showing me there’s more to this side of myself I never really understood before.”

You watched her close her hands into fists and turn to you with a fierceness in those brown eyes you’ve never seen in person,” Which is why I think we should try helping them before we kill them.”

Stopping your laughter you finally spoke, “We?”

“We. Huntrix can’t do this on our own. You’ve been handling the otherside of the hemisphere well and now that both sides are sealed all that’s left is to care for the demons that slipped through.”

“Then why not just kill them?” The one with abs tries to jab at her which she skillfully dodges,” They clearly aren’t fond of you.”

Pausing she looks at them and then at you. 

“I have to try…if Jin saw something worth using maybe…maybe there's more to them that I haven’t seen yet. That no one’s seen. I’m hoping you can do that.”

“I’m retired. I don’t think I can do much of anything now.”

Rumi gives you a look. That glare of determination that makes you feel exposed.

“I’ve heard you before. You can do this.”

You turn, prepared to refuse but she grabs your hands.

“Please (Y/n).To protect our reign of peace….please.”

______________________________________________________________

“Alright, Saja boys. Listen up you live and breathe to be the idol group I demand you be, you hear me?!” 

The collective groans of the demon boy band, the sound makes you smirk. In an instant, you begin to hum an old song you used to sing unsheathing your whip from its holster. Romance is the one who perks up, the only one who seems to catch on that you are about to obliterate them.

“AcK!”

“OW that burns!”

“Please don’t!”

“Okay okay, we’re all listening p-please contine.”

It’s over in seconds. Everything but their faces is covered in disgusting blue welts. 

“As I was saying. I expect my perfect idol boy band to be smiley, friendly, and to say 'yes (Y/n)' whenever I ask you questions. Is that clear?”

“Yes (Y/n)!”

“That’s good now have a good show just like we practiced!”

It’s been interesting taking on the Saja boys. Their image that had Jin be their cool and calm collected leader was very much the truth. Without you breathing down their necks you found they were quite awful to all around them.

“Abby did you or did you not hit that PA with a button of yours, on purpose?”

“I mean they were looking too hard anyway it’s not my fault.”

“It is your fault that they went to the hospital thanks to your stupid little stunt.”

“It’s whatever they got a souvenir they’ll never forget!”

CRACK!

“Not the whip please, I’ll make a public apology! Sorry!”

You’ve dealt with idols that had a kamidere complex or outright narcissism but you haven’t dealt with literal demons who barely grasped that humanity was anything more than a population of overgrown bugs. 

“Alright, Bae Bee what’s going to be the right response if someone asks how you feel about the subject of turtles?”

“Goo Goo Gaga?”

“No. Try using real words please.”

“It’s…whatever?”

“I did that whole slide show and you didn’t gather anything from that?!”

“....”

FWHIP!

“Their…mid?!”

CRACK!

“Wahhh!”

But you wouldn’t continue with this farce if you didn’t realize there was a learning curve to be had. The first time it dawned on you was when Romance came to you in the dead of night, clutching the book you’d gifted them your second day: How to be a Human for Dummies. You were lounging on the large couch watching your shows when he walked in. He stood awkwardly by the door like a child who’d come to woefully inform his parents he’d wet the bed. You pretended not to know he was there; gauging if he’d actually ask for help like you offered.

“Why should we try?”

You muted the TV. Giving the pink-haired demon your full attention, you turned as he stood at the opposite end of the couch.

“Because you’ll die if you don’t.”

His nails dug into the paper cover,” no I mean why do we have to…I’ve already tried doing that before. I don’t want to go through that again.”

His marks flashed and you couldn’t see his face clearly; his hair making a curtain you so desperately wanted to peek past. 

Sighing you stood, “Follow me.”

Doing as he was told he followed you over rooftops, skillfully swinging through the concrete jungle to end it bumping into your back. He opened his mouth to insult you, to whine about how you couldn’t just answer the question to following your gaze. Down below in a window that flashed with all matter of colors, was a girl surrounded by friends singing terribly into the microphone as they cheered her on.

“You see her” The girl with the red bow in her hair?”

“...yeah.”

“She used to wonder that too. She used to walk home every day from school to her room. Locking herself away because she once listened to the same voices you do. Frankly, if she had continued listening she would have ended up just like you.”

“Then why isn’t she…like me that is?”

“Because she kept trying. Worked hard to find those she could care about; though it was hard she found them. Only because she tried.”

“So what?! I try and everything will be fixed?”

“I didn’t say that but no matter what you’ve done. Trying to make amends. Trying to be better is what makes it, you, worth it in the end.”

“Even if it took 300 years?”

“Even if it took 300 years.”

They certainly had their moments and that was enough to not exorcise them when their third month existing in the idol world rolled around. Much to your displeasure, you had no choice but to inform Rumi you’d continue to manage the Saja boys. If only to help them reconcile with themselves. To instead use their talent and influence to strengthen the Honmoon and continue to keep the positive energy that the fans permeated alive and well. 

If you worked hard, you could save the remaining Saja boys.

____________________________________________________________

“I hate this.”

Mystery was the first to voice this opinion. Finally left alone and unsupervised the Saja Boys were able to speak without the threat of being whipped, stabbed, or otherwise ground into a pulp on the shining golden Honmoon. Backstage just before another performance.

“Yeah, this just such a bummer. It was more fun when we worked for Gwi Ma!” Abs spoke leaning against the walls of the hidden stage. 

“Was it actually fun or were we just happy not to be reminded of who we are?” 

Romance turned still maintaining the front position of the band just as they’d been instructed, looking into the golden eyes of his fellow demons. Looking for the same confusion he’d been saddled with since they started this.

“I don’t really care, I just don’t like feeling…like this.” 

“Like what, Myst?! What exactly do you feel?” 

Abandoning his position, he closed in. Holding the quiet demon by the neck and slamming him into the wall. The infrastructure of the stage shook and dented but Romance was careful. He wasn’t certain why he cared so much to know his answer. He’d been asking the same thing of himself for all this time.

Mystery pursed his quivering lips. Romance growled and threw the demon to the ground, rolling into Abs’ feet. The muscular demon deflated when Romance turned to him expecting an answer, his eyes darting around as if the moving walls would have it scrawled somewhere. 

The lack of response only made the pink-haired demon angrier. Fangs beared and marks on full display he charged narrowly scratching at Abs’ face. Mystery got up to intervene, fully prepared to bite the neck of the completely wild Romance. Until his voice broke the silence.

“Purposeless. That is what we are feeling.”

His real voice was much deeper than his human one which is why when the late Jin led the group he was specially instructed to keep it hidden. But they had no leader. They have no Gwi-Ma. All they have in this hidden stage is each other. 

Romance retracts his claws, the marks still glowing bright, and he pulls at his locks.

“He’s right. W-we have nothing anymore! All we have is ourselves and that’s worse than nothing. W-w-we can’t even go back!”

His shaky declaration makes everyone unsettled. Placing a name to their fear—to their reality made it far too true. Their marks all begin to glow with an anxious throbbing. Mystery retreats into himself huddling into the corner. Abs freezes, willing his body to move and failing miserably. Even Baby lets the cap he’s wearing cover his face as he slowly slides to the floor.

“What’s the use of trying to change if I don’t even know why I’m here?! You’ve seen these humans!? They don’t know so what am I supposed to do?!”

The Honmoon throbs at his cry. 

“How can I try when I don’t want to face who I am?!”

Demon marks flaring in tandem with the flickering gold.

“What good can come from someone as far gone as I?!”

The Honmoon dangerously touches the color pink. 

“What am I supposed to do with myself!? Without any voice what am I supposed to do!?”

Multiple tears of the barrier are forming and joining at the seams around each of the separate Saja boys. Each one is influenced by their pain and about to damage the sanctity of the Honmoon.

~kzzt~

Like a heaven-sent. The comms in their ears buzzed to life.

~kzz~He~kzztz~

The pink fades and the healing blue returns to the barrier.

~kz~Hey can you guys hear me in this thing? It’s me (Y/n).kzztz~

It’s your voice. Their guardian. Their manager.

“As expected these walkies are crap. Anyway, I expect you boys to give me your best because I know you can do it. Can you do that for me Saja?”

The voice in their ears answered the only remaining questions.

“Yes, (Y/n).” “Yes, (Y/n).” “Yes, (Y/n).” “Yes, (Y/n).”

“That’s what I like to hear. Now wow that crowd and no soul stealing.”

The silence of the stage was lighter. More defined. The long turned-off comms burned into their ears. All of them replaying the echo of their manager’s voice—soothing, uplifting, commanding.

“It is them. That will be our purpose.”

Baby’s voice spoken with clarity confirmed what they all decided. As the stage begins to rise and the cheers of their fans increase even more. The Saja Boys are in position, prepared to perform just as their manager demands it. 

______________________________________________________________

“So how’s it gone, managing them?”

All of Huntrix was over for the day, enjoying some bubble tea as they looked at the golden-covered city. The barrier glowed strong with a healthy pulse fully powered by their fans.

You were glad that you’d convinced the boys to attend their shoot solo. Otherwise, you would’ve risked having this conversation with them around. Which wouldn’t have been a good idea considering how close they’ve gotten.

“It’s going great. They haven’t had another incident since I last called.”

The girls shared a look. 

Mira sneered at the promotional material for the group scattered on the table, picking it up like it was dirty laundry. 

“By great do you mean, like the Honmoons not broken great or that there's an uptick in murders in the last month—all where you guys were going on tour–great?”

Zoey chuckled anxiously, “We don’t want to accuse but the numbers don’t look great.”

Shooting a look at Rumi, you settled in your chair. Looking out at the city below carefully putting pressure on the plastic cup in your hands.

“Look I wish I could definitively say it’s just a coincidence but I looked into those cases myself and most of them seem airtight. But I’m not entirely sure there wasn’t some demonic influence.” Zoey and Mira shared a look before turning back to you with a grimace.

“I’m saying there’s just no way to tell for sure if it was them and without evidence I can't exactly ‘convict’ anyone.”

“So you're saying there’s no way not one of those boys slipped through your grasp?”

“Yeah (Y/n)...we know you’re technically retired and there’s five demons and one of you…it can’t be easy.”

Rumi finally looked ready to speak and you had a feeling you weren’t going to like it. 

“We were thinking maybe you should take a break!” She didn’t look entirely convinced, looking between Mira and Zoey. “We’re going on a break for a little while so maybe we can look after them for you.”

“I’d love that,” you studied their faces for some kind of joke,” but I don’t know if you can handle the boys any more than I could.”

The girls confidently laughed.

“Are you kidding?”

“We nearly killed them the last time we met!”

“Yes, Huntrix has got this in the bag!”

The girls cheered with pride as they whooped and hollered at one another. You admired their spunk, something you felt came far too less now that you’ve outgrown the group you used to hunt with. 

“Alright then girls, I’ll take you up on your offer–”

“Yes!” “The-Best-B-ab-y Sitters in the wooorldd!” “Yeah, this is going to be a piece of cake!”

“---a word of caution girls.”

Your words had them stopping in their tracks, their triumphant smiles only softening to acknowledge you. The only one it completely faded from was Rumi, who almost looked afraid to see you step on the elevator.

“The Saja Boys are a lot more determined than you’d think. Try not to be an obstacle for them.”

With that, the metal doors slid closed, and for once in a long time you were alone. Now came the hard part—telling them. 

______________________________________________________________

“You have got to be kidding me!?”

It was Bae Bee taking his usual spot at your back, his fanged sneer hissing into the side of your head he was previously nuzzling against. His nails had gotten longer penetrating the T-shirt you were wearing, a single flick to his wrist had him retract his claws but not loosen his grip.

Speaking of claws you could feel the demon on your lap allowing his to emerge and grip at your jeans all the tighter. The practiced action of oncoming tears soaking through the denim told you, Mystery was having a similar reaction. Across the room were Romance and Abby both dressed in their custom robes were drying with their respective blow dryers after using the dressing room’s shower. Both appliances were crushed and melted onto the floor within seconds of your announcement. The demons-responsible, flashing their marks and fangs at you. Romance immediately straightens up, adjusting his hair and robe before glaring down at you.

“I thought we had a deal.”

“YEAH A PROMISE! WE’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BREAK THOSE.”

Abby was worse for wear marks and teeth on full display; you mentally noted to pay the venue for the damage he’d cause. Already a partition was torn through, a wall successfully punched into, and a microwave was effectively torn apart. If you didn’t ease his worries the staff would be next.

“I’m not leaving you guys. The deal was that if you all made an effort to change, I’d never leave.”

“Which is what you’re trying to do,” Mystery muffled protests had everyone nodding.

Romance stepped forward again, arms crossed and amber eyes glowing deviously down at you. 

“Then that would mean our deal is off!”

“No, it’s not! We never said anything about time off or leaving and coming back.”

“Didn’t have to,” Bae whispers into your ear with a smirk on his face, ” You are the one who agreed.”

It’s then you feel the need to reach for your whip, reaching for your beloved weapon underneath your coat. Searching for your saving grace next to your waist you only to find its empty holster. Looking over to Abby who’s suddenly stopped his violent tirade to pull at the much sought after weapon. 

“Then if you go that means we don’t have to abide by the rules anymore.” He looks at you like a puppy, one who’s done something awful and hopes you understand. The boisterous Abby was no longer there, a serious look on his face. 

You want to soothe him. To deny it. But the truth of the matter was just that, you had to leave and at this point,t it wouldn’t do you any good to demand they accept otherwise. Your whip across the room, your body held in place by a smirking demon, your legs held down by another, and your attention on the one you were sure had made the most progress. 

“We have changed if it helps. We’ve upheld our end of the deal. For you to go against us now…well we’ll just try to preserve our purpose.”

By now you were in no place to make demands.

“So go enjoy your…trip. We’ll be waiting and by then we’ll have changed some more just as you commanded.”

No trip to the Maldives would erase those words from your head.

______________________________________________________________

When you return from any kind of holiday there’s a moment of great depression. A crushing sense of reality from the joy you experienced comes in full force as you unpack and reenter your tiresome schedule. In your case it was no different, for two whole weeks you could ignore the haunting reactions of the demons you guarded to lounge with a poolside cocktail in hand. Of course, your return would be tumultuous. 

In the darkness of the condo you’d begun to call home, was Rumi. Sat crossed-legged in the mess of sliced furniture, just as worse for wear as the decor around her. You called to her, almost unsure it was she until she looked up. Her eyes were swollen, her marks an ugly black and the typically brown and golden eyes were red. 

“I…didn’t think anything would change,” she finally spoke carelessly musing as you tried to nurse her wounds, “that I would still be strong enough to beat them…I just wasn’t ready for them to…change like I did.”

You want to question her. To ask what she meant but the four pairs of golden eyes smiling back at you explained more than anything she could have said.

“A deal’s a deal.”

Out of the darkness limp bodies clattered to the floor. Battered and bruised it was Zoey and Mira. Unconscious and scarily still you watched Rumi struggle to carry them both, limping to the elevator. She spared you a single glance; eyes filled with too many apologies to ever speak.

“I…can’t be an obstacle to you anymore. Goodbye (Y/n).”

With the broken jingle of the elevator, you were left with your boys once again. Gripping the handle of your whip, you wait for them to reveal themselves to you…fully. Without a word, they emerge in their original forms circling around you with smiles on their marked and purple faces.

“So what are we doing now that I’ve returned?”

Their distorted chuckles don’t settle your unease.

“You said you changed do you plan to show me?”

“Of course, (Y/n).” Abby’s voice was the loudest and when you turned prepared to strike, your arm was held in place by the demon. 

“Whatever you demand of us.”

You dropped the whip catching it with your opposite hand, rearing to strike again only for your other hand to be caught and pried open. Your whip forcefully fell into the hands of Bae who smiles cruelly as he snaps your beautiful weapon in half with a ripple of magenta smoke. Of course, you struggle but the hands holding you in place are firm, warping your struggles so that you fall to your knees. Your chin is being held so gently by the new lead of the Saja Boys.

“We are always at your command, (Y/n). Because you are our purpose.”

You open your mouth to speak, to finally give a proper command since they demand it of you. Only for your lips to be covered in Dutch tape, which is played with as Romance comes even closer. The dark blue blush on his face shows just how much he relishes the glare you have for him.

“Since you broke your deal with us, we are free to change. To finally be free to serve our purpose however we see fit.”

It’s then you feel something monstrous intertwine itself with the barrier of the Honmoon pink and orange demon hands replacing the idol demons’ hands. Allowing them to look down on you as well all of them casually caressing your sealed lips.

“You right (Y/n), we have changed.”

There were hands in your hair.

“We’ve grown stronger and it’s all because you gave us a chance. Because you taught us to care.”

There were hands on your back.

“Encouraged us to try.”

Somehow they were in your brain.

“Even if it takes 300 years.”

You sleep in the arms of the Saja Boys—Your boys because you’re all they work for. All they try for. All they’d think to change for. 

You are their purpose and they’ll do anything you they demand.

Totally forgot some of these guys died on screen Whoopsie!

Kofi → Here Masterlist → Here Commissions → Here

🖤🖤🖤🖤

[waitingandwishing]

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Word Count: 2.5k "𝖫𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌, 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌" ━━ Ever since you were a kid, all you wanted was to be cared for.

“‘Cause I see your real face, it’s as ugly as sin. Gonna put you in your place cause you’re rotten within.” You sang, practicing the choreography easily. “When your patterns start to show it makes the hatred wanna grow out of my veins…”

Your voice trailed off and you sighed, collapsing on your bed with a huff. You rolled up your sleeve to reveal the spreading marks, glowing and pulsing each time you grazed your other hand on them. For almost your whole life, they’ve never spread this fast before.

Jinu said that his shame was what caused them to spread… What shame did you have then? The shame of these markings? But if so, then Rumi’s would’ve spread much faster than before right? You huffed. You couldn’t believe you were about to do something this stupid but… Maybe you should visit a mudang?

You groaned. Why were you now turning to spiritual stuff? You laid on your back, thinking for a moment before deciding you’d go to sleep early instead. You probably needed a good night’s rest anyways… Just as you walked over to your lamp to turn it off, a knock on your window interrupted.

You turned to see the large blue cat from before and the bird perched on top of its head. You frowned, but opened the door and entered your balcony. “Hello?” You greeted. The tiger stared at you before pushing into your hand as if telling you to pet him like before. “Where’s your owner?”

The tiger purred before biting your arm. It wasn’t a harsh bite, more delicate than anything as it seemed as though it was trying to guide you somewhere. “Ooookay…” You cringed at the horrible sensation of it’s drool coating your sweatshirt but didn’t pull away.

You followed the tiger into a portal before ending up on the street instead. You shivered at the cold wave of existential dread that came when you entered, but brushed it off and pulled your hood over your head instead. You couldn’t exactly be seen being hauled away by a blue tiger in public right?

“Isn’t it odd how we keep meeting like this?”

You turned to see Jinu with his hands in his pockets. You smiled slightly, the tiger now letting go of your arm. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sent your cat to come get me.” 

Jinu shrugged, feigning an innocent expression. You walked forward, now enshrouded in the darkness of the alleyway. “I actually have something to ask you, surprisingly.” Your gaze was fixated on the ground, not daring to look up at Jinu. 

“My markings…” You rolled your sleeve up to reveal the spread of them going across your arms. “Why are they growing? You said that yours grew from shame but… I haven’t felt any shame.”

Jinu stared at them, his finger twitching slightly to reach out, before he curled his hand into a fist instead. “It is… Hard to identify shame.” He finalized.

You looked up at him, blinking, before letting out a chuckle. “That’s hardly an explanation. Nor does it give me any comfort.”

“Ah, I’m… Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You shook your head, “After we seal the Honmoon…” Your voice trailed off, eyes glancing at Jinu before clearing your throat. “Rumi’s and my markings will be… Fixed.”

“How did you get your markings?” Jinu asked.

“Ah… I, uh, don’t know actually. It’s just something I’ve been born with like Rumi.” You looked at them, furrowing your brows at the noticeably drastic changes, “We’re not related though so…”

“And you don’t hear Gwi-Ma in your head either?” Jinu asked. You shook your head, your eyes focusing on the cat now rubbing on your legs.

“No…” You muttered.

“Then you’re lucky too.” Jinu said. He stayed quiet for a while, tilting his head up to look at the purple colored sky.

Did negative thoughts count as Gwi-Ma speaking in your head? No, you didn’t think so. Everyone had negative thoughts sometimes, even demons have them replaced by Gwi-Ma’s manipulation. If so… Were they really that different from humans?

“Maybe… You can be lucky too.” You thought out loud. Jinu turned to you with a confused look on his face. “When the Honmoon is sealed, all demons will be banished to be with Gwi-Ma for all eternity. You can be on our side. You’ll be rid of the markings.”

Jinu paused, opening his mouth to speak before you added. “It doesn’t mean you’ll live without your memories of misery. At least, I think so.” You mused before finally looking at Jinu with a smile, “Jinu, if you help us win the Idol awards, you can stop hearing Gwi-Ma’s voice inside your head…”

“What makes you think the Honmoon can save a guy like me?” Jinu asked, eyes carefully tracing the street in consideration.

“You tried to help your family. We all…” Your voice trailed off, masking the wince of a sudden headache with clearing your throat. “We all make mistakes.”

Jinu scoffed, “It’s not that simple.”

“It’s never that simple.” You challenged, “If the Honmoon can… Help me and Rumi with our mistakes, it surely can with yours.”

There’s a softening. A stillness in his eyes as he looks at you. As if his entire world has just settled into place. His pupils dilated just slightly, eyes warm with a kind of quiet awe, and for a moment, time seems to hush around the two of you. It’s not dramatic, not always flashy. It’s subtle. Sacred.

Familiar, even to you. You feel as if you’d done this before, that you’d felt this way before. You cleared your throat, “You always stare at someone like that?” You asked.

Jinu blinked out of his trance, turning away to the blue tiger sitting in front of him with a tilted head and crossed eyes. “It’s just… You remind me a lot like someone I knew.” Jinu said. You didn’t ask anything else because it seemed like he didn’t want to elaborate any further, but it warmed your heart either way.

His words carried the weight of a thousand unspoken memories and the quiet certainty of realization and recognition. It’s the look that said… You mattered. Not because of what you’ve done or said, but simply because you’re… You.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” You smiled, now turning away, “I’ve gotta change out of this wet sweatshirt before I start getting overstimulated so… Just think about my offer?” You turned your face to the side, looking at Jinu in the corner of your eye, “Give me a message if you accept it, Jinu.”

- - -

You explained the plan to Rumi, to which she agreed with. Jinu would help you win the Idol Awards, and you would seal the Honmoon when it was over. “Should we tell the others?” you asked, walking backstage to get ready for the rehearsal.

“... No.” Rumi decided, “They… They won’t understand.”

“Are those Celine’s words or yours?” you teased, trying to lighten the moment—but she didn’t smile. Not even a flicker. Your grin faltered. You stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder with quiet concern. “Rumi…”

“These lyrics are so… Wrong.” She said, her arms crossing tightly over her chest like she was bracing for something colder than judgment.

“Yeah…” you muttered, wincing as a dull throb pulsed through your skull. “Pretty hypocritical of us, I get it.”

“It’s fine. I think we can get through this.” Rumi nodded, but her voice didn’t carry much weight. You hesitated, studying her a moment longer before nodding back and stepping onstage beside her.

The music started, echoing faintly across the space as the four of you moved into formation. “Time to put you in your place ‘cause you’re rotten within.” You sang, turning with the practiced motion.

“When your patterns start to show it makes the hatred wanna grow out of my…” Rumi’s voice trailed off. She stopped moving entirely, her face blank and filled with hesitation.

“What’s going on? Why are we stopping?” Mira asked, her tone sharp with confusion.

“It’s just… These lyrics are throwing me off.” Rumi muttered, “I don’t think they’re right just yet.”

“Seriously? Now?” Mira frowned, eyebrows pulling in.

“No, it’s fine.” Zoey laughed weakly, already flipping through her lyric journal. “It’s the second verse, right? Uh, how about… ‘When the patterns start to show, the whole world will finally know that you’re depraved’?”

You shook your head at the same time Rumi did. The movement was subtle, but Mira noticed. Her frown deepened as her gaze shifted toward you, questioning. You couldn’t meet her eyes. You looked down at the scuffed black floor instead.

“Um, ‘My sword will happily show you to your grave?’” Zoey offered again. Rumi shook her head, “‘You will be pummeled till no remains—’”

“No, Zoey, it’s just—It’s the whole song.” Rumi sighed, weariness etched into her voice.

“Oh… Okay, great!” Zoey said, trying to laugh it off, but her voice went quiet as her eyes fell to the notebook in her hands. “Well, then, I might as well tear these all up!”

“Rumi, we don’t have time to change the lyrics even if we wanted to.” Mira said, stepping closer now. “The Idol Awards are tomorrow.”

“Well, I… I don’t think I can sing this song.” Rumi argued, her voice small but firm.

“It’s… So hateful.” You added.

The tension between the four of you was like static before Bobby stepped in, his timing almost too perfect. “Hey, girls, just wanted to bring some last-minute pick-me-ups…” He smiled, though it was clearly strained, placing the bag down. “I know things have been really stressful lately and you’ve been working so hard on the Idol routine.”

Then, a sharp pink pulse hit you, like static in your bones. The headache returned in full force, blooming behind your eyes like fire. You winced, though hit it well. You turned and ran. There wasn’t time for more arguing, you had civilians to save.

- - -

“Seriously, what is your problem?” Mira asked as she sliced through a demon's body.

Mira’s words ring in your ears like an accusation you can’t deflect. You know you’re hiding something but it isn’t out of malice. It’s out of fear. Out of uncertainty. Out of not knowing if you’re right or wrong. The Honmoon. The song. The dreams. The missing people. The silence where there should be cheering fans.

“I told you, the song, it’s-”

“I’m not talking about the song, I’m talking about you and Y/N!” Mira said. You turned your head, looking at her before pulling a demon closer to you and stabbing it with your dagger. “Why are you both questioning everything that we stand for when we’re so close to sealing the Honmoon? What are you two not telling us?!”

“I-I-”

“What are you hiding from us?” Mira asked, her hand on Rumi’s shoulder just as the purple haired girl was about to pull away.

“Not everything is about your insecurities, Mira!” Rumi yelled. You widened your eyes, looking between the two of them with a pained expression.

You stood between them, looking at both their expressions. Zoey stood next to Mira with widened eyes. The whole tunnel that shrouded you with darkness suddenly blew past you, the skyline of the city and mountains coming into view.

“Mira, I-I didn’t mean…”

“Would you two stop fighting each other and look?!” Zoey yelled, pointing to the huge hole coming from the upper bridge. 

“Why is it so big…?” You muttered. Multiple hungry demons piled on top of each other, ready to ravage any human souls on the train.

“If you’re with us, prove it.” Mira challenged, looking at you and Rumi before focusing her attention back on the demons.

You got into position before lunging with the four of them at the herd of demons. Your whip cracked like gunfire, splitting the air above the demon's heads. One lunged forward, to which you moved your shoulder forward, elbow locked and fingers snapping the whip at the end. The tip wrapped around its wrist, pulling it forward before plunging your dagger into its chest.

“It’s a take down, Imma take you out and it ain’t gonna stop!”

The second demon charged, causing you to spin left and let the tail of your whip loop low around its leg. You pulled hard, dropping its balance before throwing the dagger into its chest and disintegrating it.

You leaned in, whip in a cross-body strike. The tip lashed across another demon's face, causing it to screech before bursting into a pink dust.

“Jung shin eul noh koh null jib balb goh! Kal eul seh gyuh nuah! You’ll be begging and crying, all of you dying. Never miss my shot!”

When another lunged again, you dropped the whip and caught behind the ankle. In a wrapping move, the tail tangled briefly. You yanked hard, turning your hips and unbalancing it successfully. You threw your dagger again.

“I don’t think you’re ready for the takedown! A demon with no feelings don’t deserve to live… It’s so obvious…”

You widened your eyes, watching as another demon came swinging with a club at Rumi, who had suddenly paused their demon massacre. “RUMI!” You shouted, latching your whip onto her waist and pulling her forward. The momentum caused you to fly forward, sending a kick to the larger demon's head.

The lurking demons overran the plane. You knelt down, helping Rumi up as Mira finished off the last of the demons with a shockwave of blue energy. 

Mira turned to look at you and Rumi, disappointment evident in her eyes, but just as she was about to say something, you spoke up first. “The passengers!” You realized. 

You entered the train, searching through the seats to find at least one person, only to be disappointed at the sight of the missing people. What were you going to do now? 

The train stopped at its nearest station, the four of you walking out with saddened looks on your faces. “Whatever you think about the song, it doesn’t matter right now.” Mira spoke up, her voice breaking slightly. “Everything is at stake and we just need to get through this together.” She walked away, not daring to meet yours or Rumi's gaze.

“You know I’m always on your side but… It’s really hard to understand this time.” Zoey muttered, turning to look at the two of you, “We can’t win this without your voices…” She finalized before walking away with Mira.

You and Rumi exchanged glances. Something’s wrong. And not just with the mission. With you. With Rumi. With the entire foundation everything’s been built on.

You look at her, your partner in this, and the weight in her eyes mirrors your own. The kind of weight you carry when truth is clawing at the inside of your chest but you’re afraid to open your mouth and let it out. Because if you speak it aloud, it might undo everything you’ve fought for…

Zoey says they need your voice. Mira says you’re keeping secrets. She’s not wrong. But they don’t see what you see. They don’t hear what you hear in that song. They don’t feel how wrong it’s beginning to sound.

taglist: @the-bookish-artist @nisarelle @iviorienne @justanindiangirl12 @t4naiis @usuallyunlikelyfox@livsh20@venommie@dprweganggang03@satansdaughter123 @yumekono @arkcitrus

[forthebrokenheartedthings]

Exactly Like You Said 🔥

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky Barnes have always had that thing—the kind of sexual tension everyone sees coming from a mile away. Every sparring match somehow ends the same way: your thighs locked tight around his head, pretending it’s just part of the fight. But today, Bucky decides he’s tired of pretending. One snarky comment turns into a moment you can’t take back—and don’t want to. He pins you to the mat, hooks your legs over his shoulders, and shows you exactly how long he’s been thinking about this.

TW: Explicit Sexual Content (18+), Female Receiving, Minor Praise Kink, Bucky Barnes

AN 💌: I’m writing this on my phone, so please excuse any mistakes. I was watching funny marvel edits with Seb and Anthony and Seb had mentioned he was lucky because he kept ending up between Black Widows legs. That’s where this came from. Don’t mistake it, it’s all smut 🙈

The gym smelled like sweat and old leather, the mats stained from countless bruises and ruined egos. You’re on your back this time, but it hardly matters—because somehow, somehow, your thighs are already bracketing Bucky’s neck.

His hands are braced on the mat beside your ribs, his face maddeningly close to where you ache for him. You glare down your body at him, but he’s smirking like he’s been waiting for this exact position all day.

“Y’know what’s funny?” he drawls, voice rough. “Every spar. Every single one. We end up exactly here—your legs wrapped around my goddamn head.”

You shift, pretending you’re about to shove him off, but he doesn’t budge. His metal hand slides up the back of your thigh, pulling it higher over his shoulder. The angle makes your breath hitch.

“It’s called leverage,” you bite out.

His grin goes slow and wolfish. “Sure it is.” He curls his fingers around your other thigh, settling it over his other shoulder, and the position leaves you embarrassingly open, heat pulsing between your legs. “Leverage. That why you’re soaking through your shorts?”

“You’re an asshole,” you say, but your voice comes out thin.

“Yeah?” His gaze flicks up to meet yours, dark and hungry. “Then stop me.”

You don’t. You dig your heels into the top of his back instead, pulling him in. Something in his expression snaps—restraint unraveling in one sharp moment.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “You really don’t want me to stop, do you?”

He hooks his arms under your thighs and lifts, dragging you flush to his mouth. Your back arches right off the mat.

“Bucky—”

“Shh.” His breath fans over you, hot and electric. “Keep ‘em right here.” His thumbs press into the crease behind your knees, pinning them in place over his broad shoulders. “I’m not moving until you come.”

He pulls your shorts to the side, leans in and drags his tongue over you—slow, deliberate, like he’s savoring every second. Your whole body shudders, thighs instinctively squeezing around his head. He groans into you, the vibration sparking heat low in your belly.

“Oh—fuck—”

“That’s it,” he murmurs, voice gone hoarse, mouth brushing slick against your clit. “Squeeze all you want, baby. Not letting you go.”

You feel it when he smiles, feel the scrape of his stubble, and then he sucks you into his mouth—hard enough your vision blurs. Your thighs clamp tighter around his head, heels digging into his back. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down.

“God—Bucky—please—”

He answers with another deep, slow lick, then seals his mouth around you and groans. The sound vibrates through your core. Your hands fly to his hair, tugging, but he doesn’t let you pull away. His hands flex under your thighs, anchoring you exactly where he wants you—legs locked over his shoulders, nowhere to go.

The pressure builds sharp and unstoppable, your body tightening around his mouth. You come with a strangled cry, thighs trembling against his ears, and he stays right there, working you through every pulse.

When he finally lifts his head, his lips are slick, eyes dark. He smirks up at you, hands still holding your legs draped over his shoulders like he owns them.

“Told you,” he rasps. “Every time. Legs around my head.”

He presses a kiss to your thigh—soft and almost unbearably tender.

“And next time,” he adds, voice low and dangerous, “I’m not stopping here.”

[distuff]

HELLO? your saja boys characterizations are so perfect!!!! i really loved reading the 'sharing' post!!!

If i may request...Baby going absolutely soft and tame under the reader's affections as they trace the patterns on his demon form face and neck with quick little kisses, secretly just trying to see how much it takes for the nonchalant Baby to loosen his composure, and they get just what they were aiming for. I love the demons being slightly awkward or unsure of such affections as I imagine its hard to come by it in the demon realm.

Answer: Aaah~ Arigatou!! I'm glad you've enjoyed yourself!! ( _ _)人 It makes me happy to know their personalities fits! And oh boi- the sOftness!! I love this idea so much! Def see what ya mean w the boyz being awkward with affection since as ya said they probably ain't cuddling in demon realm lol Hope you'll like it readershi!

📍Requests: OPEN (Next update after the weekend)

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

Baby Saja: What's Affection?

Featuring: Baby Saja Reader: Gender neutral

🍼 Baby had barely any memories of his life before death - only fragmented flashes.

🍼 A betrayal from someone he once trusted. A faceless figure selling him off to another faceless nobody. Torture. Torture. Moulding. Screams. Blood. Endless cries.

🍼 The memories always ended the same: the sound of a thousand skittering legs crawling - burrowing - into his ears, past his eardrums. Screams. Tears. And then— Darkness...

🍼 Everything after that became crystal clear. He remembered standing emotionlessly before a vast wall of violent purple flames that crackled as if laughing. There was, however, another voice. Soft, almost like a balm on the pain his body hadn’t realised it carried. It coaxed him to step back.

🍼 So he did. He slid his right foot behind him, about to lean toward that soothing light - when another voice, one that burned, spoke: "WoUldn’T YoU LikE tO ForGet?"

🍼 The words hit like a club across his head. His eyes snapped open, head splitting with pressure as memories fought to surface. Rage he didn't knew was there surged forward. Screams and images - blurry faces he didn’t recognise but hated all the same - overwhelmed the soft pull of the first voice.

🍼 His hands twitched with the urge to tear something apart - to claw the answers to his questions out of someone, anyone. Instead, his fingers dug into his scalp, nails scraping skin until he felt something wet slide down his forehead, trailing along his cheeks, dripping to his bare collarbone.

🍼 "gO," said the flame again. His gaze locked on the radiant purple fire. A warmth spread through him - not comforting, but fueling - amplifying his rage, he didn't know he had while the soft voice behind him begged him to turn back.

🍼 He gritted his teeth. A faint, sharp face appeared within the flame, grinning with needle-like teeth. "Go aNd ForGeT, bY mAkiNg AmeNDs wITh thOsE whO WroNgED yoU… I shAll aLlOw It tO hApPen."

🍼 It spoke with such confidence he didn’t even question it. Just took one slow step forward. Then another. Until he stood directly in front of the one he would come to know as Gwi-Ma.

🍼 Warmth engulfed him. His shoulders eased, the tension slipping away as his body - cold without him even realising - began to warm up.

🍼 Then came the pain. Scorching. Burning. The purple flames had devoured him whole. It lasted only seconds, yet stretched into what felt like centuries as the cackling of the flames joined his blood-curdling screams..

🍼 And with the dying flames, the contract was sealed. Powers to take the lives of those who wronged him for his submission to whom he now recognised as his King. Warmth then became something wrong. It prickled. Burned. Even the thought of a touch made him recoil.

🍼 Not that anyone in the demon realm dared to touch him. Not when he started rising through the ranks faster than anyone expected for a freshly turned demon. It was laughable, really - he didn’t even know what the ranks were until much later. He was too busy hunting humans to satisfy the maddening itch in the void where his soul used to be.

🍼 He was no one. Just a follower meant to feed his King. Until Juni came along, saw his face in the demon realm, and casually called him “Baby.”

🍼 Baby hadn’t realised it would stick. Even with demonic features, it seems he had a baby face. Perfect for luring in humans if you asked him.

🍼 He had no memory of his real face, no idea who he used to be. The only hints were physical reactions - flinches, preferences, inexplicable instincts. Forget my ass, Baby would grumble every time his body reacted to something he couldn’t explain.

🍼 So, when Jinu asked if he wanted to take a peek at the human world, Baby very easily said no. It wasn’t until Jinu literally begged that a sadistic smirk tugged at Baby’s lips, and he agreed - caring very little for whatever promises Jinu had offered.

🍼 But the lack of memory came with one very specific problem: He had no template to base his appearance on. Although Baby felt that even his demonic form probably held more resemblance to whoever he’d been before death than whatever polished identity Jinu had instructed him to mimic.

🍼 The mint hair felt right in tone, but not colour. His bright painted nails felt right too, though he preferred darker shades. His cheeks were too round, eyes too big - he remembered scowling the first time he saw his reflection and calling himself a “Fucking owl.” Eventually, he altered them, drooping them slightly. Enough to pass as doe-eyed, but more tolerable for him.

🍼His lips and nose felt… familiar. Almost correct. And his demon markings? He felt naked without them.

🍼 Ironic, considering they were symbols of what he’d become. Still, they were him now. Not this peach-skinned twink he wore for public appearances.

🍼 He lived for moments when no humans were around and he could drop the illusion. Let his features sharpen. Hair darken. Let the demon marks shimmer faintly when caught at the right angle.

🍼 But the thing that really got under his skin? That fucking honmoon wave surrounding the entire damn globe. Broadcasting its bullshit feelings - “Comfort,” “Love,” “Warmth.” Every time it pulsed near him, his brain went static, and his body curled in on itself. Disgusting.

🍼 He labelled what he felt as disgust, anyway. But he sure as hell wasn’t about to investigate it either. Those feelings? They made his skin crawl. Tried to fill the void in his chest - and he wanted nothing to do with them.

🍼 So when you slipped into his routine, so slowly he didn’t even notice until Romance offhandedly asked if you’d be coming to one of their shoots - Baby had been about to say no. But he froze. Because how the fuck should he know?

🍼 He hadn’t even realised how intertwined you’d become in his life until that moment. He hated it. He hated what you made him feel.

🍼 Even worse? He realised why he felt so pissy lately. It was you who made it impossible for him to relax the illusion. That was your fault.

🍼 So. What does a clever, soul-devouring, high-ranking demon do? ... That’s right. He told you.

🍼 Told you the truth - on the apartment balcony. At night, when the guys were out. Cornered you, really. He knew humans had that fight, flight, or freeze instinct, and he wasn’t about to be scolded by his seniors if you ran off because your little human brain couldn’t process anything that wasn’t a grey alien with antennae.

🍼 Let the illusion slowly fall away- Silver-blue eyes overtaken by a glowing gold, face subtly shifting, clawed hands flexing. Grey-toned skin bled over warm peach, washing it out in waves. Markings flickered faintly before settling - like ink spreading across wet parchment.

🍼 It went about as well as he expected. You looked at him - his pupils narrowed vertically, curious - And you promptly jerked back and fell off the fucking skyscraper.

🍼 Baby watched you over the railing, utterly bored, as you plummeted. Would they follow Gwi-Ma if they died? The thought flickered. The answer was obviously no.

🍼 So he jumped after you. Caught up with ease - just as your panic spiked, sharp and intoxicating through the honmoon. He pulled you against him mid-air, chest to chest. In the next breath, you vanished in a swirl of violet smoke - Only to reappear on the same balcony you'd hurled yourself from.

🍼 His expression didn’t change as you shoved him away, gasping, refusing to look at him. Baby would never admit it, but for a second, he wondered if telling you had been a mistake.

🍼 Because if you’d said you wanted to leave, even if you promised to stay silent— He wouldn’t have hesitated. He would’ve feasted on your soul then and there. So at least some part of you would stay with him.

🍼 Good for you, though. You calmed down. Asked questions. And Baby answered - just enough to soothe you, and somehow managed to make you believe he and the others only wanted to live like humans.

🍼 Yeah right. He nearly rolled his eyes at himself. They did want to live like humans, sure. But only so they could turn those annoying HUNTER/X fans into SAJA fans so their King could have enough souls to have a corporeal form.

🍼 Still. He told you exactly what he thought would calm you down. And it worked.

So you really couldn't blame him for looking at you like you'd lost every single brain cell the moment you asked him to show more of his demon features. The two of you were tucked away in his room - Romance and Abby off experiencing another so-called “wonder of the human world” under Mystery’s watchful eye, while Juni was out doing who-knew-what for who-knew-why. Again. If Baby cared enough, he could’ve tapped into the honmoon and followed his veiled wave to sense what the other was feeling and where he roughly was. But right now, all of his attention was locked on you, mouth parted slightly as he gawked. He blinked, a brow rising before a faint smirk curved his lips as he looked you over. “Why? Want an excuse to go jumpin’ off the balcony again?” he asked, voice low, honeyed with a slight rasp. You seemed to be still a bit bothered by the subtler demon traits he let slip - like those faintly glowing golden eyes, the greyish tint to his skin, and the slightly curved black claws at the tips of his fingers. Still, most of his human features remained intact. Baby could always see the way your gaze lingered on him. Your body still, almost instinctively, while he shamelessly felt your bright blue wave in the honmoon barrier crackle with adrenaline whenever he let his human form ease a bit. The sensation was delicious, teasing, and just out of reach. He could feel it pulsing even now, tempting him. But you remained stubbornly leashed by the Huntresses. Tch. No matter. He wasn’t worried. With the plan they've agreed on, it was only a matter of time - and his gradually thinning patience until the cool blue would turn brilliant crimson. You then mirrored his "playful" smirk, pushing his arm lightly with a soft glare. "Ha. Ha. You’re so funny," you said, voice dripping in sarcasm. Baby leaned back against the pillow wedged against the headboard, posture relaxed as he grinned. “I know. I’m fuckin’ hilarious— Ack! Hey! What the fuck... was that... for..?” You'd flicked his forehead. He growled softly, reaching for the second pillow beside him, only to trail off with his words when you shifted suddenly - smoothly swinging your leg over and settling down on his lap. His head tilted back to look at you, eyes narrowing as you loomed over him with... Determination? ...What? His claws flexed, digging into the bedding beneath him. Instinct told him to throw you off. His abdomen tightened with tension, warning signals blazing. You were far too close, and he didn’t like it - didn't like how your expression was unreadable. Golden eyes flared brighter. Still, Baby didn’t act. He had a part to play, and unfortunately, that part meant he had to let some of the physical touching pass. Apparently, this was how modern couples showed... affection. Gwi-ma, he wanted to gag. He kept his face composed, barely restraining himself, giving you a sceptical look as you inhaled like you were bracing for— His hand shot out, clamping around your wrist before it could reach his left cheek. He knew exactly what you were aiming for. His mark - a jagged line like a centipede crawling from his neck to his temple, slithering beneath his shirt and connecting to the web of others across his back and stomach. “What... are you.. doing,” he asked, voice low and gravelly, each word pronounced deliberately as he locked eyes with you. To anyone else, you might’ve looked fearless. But Baby could feel the tremor in your honmoon wave. Fear and— oh? Anticipation?

HaaaH. How stupidly naive. Were you seriously getting off on this? His frown twisted into a crooked grin as he tightened his grip on your wrist - just enough to make a point. His other hand slid down to your thigh, claws grazing your clothed skin with a deliberate lightness that sent a shiver through your body. He felt it. That spark in your wavelength. The surge. He could’ve taken it - could’ve let that familiar fire devour him, choosing scorching heat over soft warmth any day - but just as he leaned in, lips parting to claim that blaze for himself- You placed your hand gently over his mouth. With that same nerve-fraying calm, you guided him back onto the pillow. What... he thought, blinking. Baby was confused - thrown off by how unreadable your wave had become. It rattled him, and his face gave it away. But instead of offering any explanation, you simply leaned closer, hair falling like a curtain around your face. The tips of your fingers trailed from his lips, down the column of his throat, settling softly where the faint glow of his marks began to appear. His focus slipped. The illusion cracked. In places he could usually hold it together, it now flickered and glitched - his control slipping as his body betrayed him. Baby hated it. Hated how he could overpower you, end you, devour your soul without effort. And yet, when the image crossed his mind and he tried to command his limbs to move- All they did was twitch. His hand tightened silently around your wrist, more a warning than an attack. His golden eyes flared, pupils narrowing to slits, claws twitching against your thigh as he watched your every move carefully. His body coiled, breath shallow, your hand sliding beneath his neck. His marks pulsed under your touch - more visible now, shining through the grey-blue tint of his skin like they were answering some silent call. It was laughable. Hysterical, even. His chest vibrated with a low, restrained cackle. His demonic body - eager, searching - called for marks that didn’t exist on you. You were human. You can't respond. And yet, his body did not seemed to get that. That's why when he saw the lack of marks, he couldn't but feel desperate - drawn in by that tender, painful warmth of your touch, but also aching to pull away from it. As if your calm was contagious, invasive. Baby gritted his teeth as you dragged your hand lower, pushing aside the collar of his shirt to reveal more of his glowing marks. He strained not to retaliate, not to lunge. You were touching him so carefully. He could’ve crushed your wrist. Should’ve dug his claws in, made you stop. But all he could do was breathe hard and watch through half-lidded eyes, your presence looming over him. You looked at him with that maddening combination of tenderness and steel, no hesitation left in your wavelength. It pulsed through the honeymoon barrier. And he felt it. Your fingers traced the glowing lines across his chest, up his neck to his right cheek, and it was like you were branding him - burning him with your softness. Pathetic, he thought, as his grip slackened. His body and mind were at war. The mind screamed: They'll betray us. Leave us. But his body... Baby exhaled shakily, eyes fluttering as he hesitantly nuzzled into your palm. His pupils dilated, just for a moment. Then they narrowed again, body snapping taut as your lips pressed gently to the mark on his left collarbone. Reflex kicked in. In an instant, he overpowered you - twisting your body beneath his with a snarl that rumbled deep in his throat. He pinned your arms over your head, legs locking yours in place so you couldn’t move an inch. His glowing eyes bore down into yours, slitted and wild, fangs bared.

The adrenaline was back - shuddering through your wave, cracking against the barrier - and it made Baby feel sick to his stomach. Disgusted. Yet he let that familiar, creeping fear settle on his tongue like a meal he devoured with too much hunger. That's right… he thought, tightening his hands around your bound wrists as he leaned closer, close enough that your noses nearly brushed. His grin was mocking, laced with something darker. “Did you had your fun?” he growled low, his mind too preoccupied with his aching body to try and sound playful. He needed to get closer; his marks pulsed, desperate for yours to answer back. His grip tightened just so as he dipped lower, his eyes locked onto your face, breath warm as he brushed his lips over your right ear. “I sure didn’t,” he growled again, voice rougher now, pupils thinning into sharp slits. Yet still, you didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. There was no anticipation. No arousal. Your wave felt hollow - like it had vanished entirely. And that silence in your energy made the void in his chest expand until it felt unbearable. He must’ve looked insane - his lips parted in shallow gasps, golden eyes blown wide and glassy. He rose up just enough to search over your body, frantic, desperate for the familiar spark that could sear him if he dared— Baby froze. He couldn’t move. Not a muscle. Your lips were pressed with quiet certainty against the mark on the left side of his neck. Like your life wasn’t in danger. Like you weren’t human. Like he wasn’t a demon. Baby shuddered fully as you strained your neck to kiss his left cheek, right as his breath stuttered and caught. His eyes, two black moons nearly devouring the gold, stared at you like a cornered beast. He didn’t even notice when he’d loosened his hold. But he had - because suddenly your hands were cradling his face like he was something precious. He didn’t know what to do. So he let you guide him upward, both of you slowly sitting on the bed. His eyes stayed locked on you, unmoving, unblinking - as though expecting a trap. As if at any second you might hurt him. But you didn’t. Instead, you smiled. Softly. Your left hand came to rest at his neck, massaging gently, while your right traced over the demon mark. Baby realised then - every single mark across his body had begun pulsing again, glowing faintly through the fabric beneath your hands. With a sharp inhale, Baby curled his clawed hands into the sweatpants, watching you lean in. He expected a shove. A scream. A betrayal. Instead, your forehead rested softly against his, your hair mingling with his own. Your eyes were closed. His stayed open, pleading silently - end this, do something, don’t drag it out.

But what broke him were the words you whispered between the two of you, "It’s okay, baby. You’re safe here… hmm~" The name. His name. No - pet name. And the meaning behind those words was what finally made his body go lax all at once. He exhaled and let his forehead drop to your shoulder. As if the strings holding him had been cut. His body slumped against yours, heavy, drained - and you didn’t waver. You held him. You expected this. One hand slid up into his hair, the other keeping him anchored as he pressed his face deeper into your neck, breathing in the intoxicating scent that was you. A shaky exhale left him. His arms curled around you, possessive and trembling, like you were his personal plushy and he didn’t quite know what to do with it yet. Something flickered in his chest. A soft flame. And in that quiet, Baby realised two things. First… His arms tightened protectively around you as he slowly opened his eyes. That glowing gold, dimmed but determined, stared into nothing. You were not going to be taken from him. Not by the King. Not by fate. Not by anything. Baby would stand against that pathetic excuse of a King if he had to. And second… His gaze dropped to the gentle blue hue of your soul. It was being wrapped - willingly - by the bright violet threads of their shared demonic energy. With a smirk you couldn’t see, Baby lowered his clawed hand to your chest. His markings responded, pulsing at his command. He watched with near-reverence as the blue began to shift - from a gentle blue - to a sharp crimson. The once serene hue of a honeymoon, now soaked in red devotion to him. His tongue traced over one fang as he trembled at the flood of emotion pouring from you - adoration, fondness, warmth. He pressed in closer and sighed in satisfaction. His other hand slipped from your back down to the mattress, touching your wave - letting it wrap around his arm and slide up his side right as he clenched his hand around it. He was ready when your body shuddered - before you collapsed into him completely. Straightening, Baby let himself fall backwards with you in his arms, landing softly against the mattress. Your dazed expression rested against his chest. Crimson line glowed gently across his marked skin, and Baby smiled, pleased. He brushed a strand of hair from your face and pressed his lips to your forehead. “Rest, my stubborn human," he whispered, "I promise I’ll be here when you wake up,” He reclined into the pillow as your eyelids fluttered, too tired to understand what had just happened.

His smile widened. As your body surrendered to sleep, his arms instinctively tightened around you. Unbeknownst to you, your forms had become woven over - your beautifully crimson wavelength, having torn itself free from the barrier, drawn to him the moment he called. Oh, you... How adorable that all it took was a flicker of vulnerability in something humans believed to be untouchable for them to give themselves over so completely. So fucking naïve~ Baby mused, his grin turning sharp as he gently caressed your cheek with a clawed hand.

[viviansturns]

𝒇𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒚!𝒔𝒖𝒃!𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔'𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑

cw: angst, humiliation, just a real mean ex, p in v angsty? smut

𝒄𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒚𝒔𝒖𝒃!𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝑨𝑼

Feburary 21st, 2024

The one time he cried in front of her, she laughed.

It wasn’t a full laugh—not out loud—but a scoff, a sharp exhale through her nose like he’d just said something pathetic instead of cracked in front of her.

“You’re being dramatic,” she said, arms crossed, voice flat.

Chris blinked, wiped his cheek with the heel of his palm like it hadn’t happened, like she didn’t just catch him feeling too much.

“I’m not,” he muttered. “I’m just—I’m tired. Everything’s been fucking heavy lately.”

“Jesus, Chris. Do you want me to baby you or something?” she snapped, stepping back like his sadness was contagious. “God, you’re such a downer when you’re like this.”

He went quiet.

Because he knew how this went. If he pushed back, if he asked for softness, she’d call him clingy. Weak. “Too much.”

So he swallowed it.

Let her words settle like concrete in his chest, like guilt for needing something more than sex and sarcasm. And when she finally came back to sit beside him, resting her head on his shoulder like nothing happened, he didn’t lean into it.

But he didn’t pull away either.

Because some love was better than none.

Feburary 25th, 2024

Chris wasn’t even thinking about it when he did it.

They’d been watching a movie—something she picked, something loud and dramatic and kind of boring—but he didn’t care. He wasn’t watching the screen. He was watching her, curled up at the opposite end of the couch, legs tucked beneath her, scrolling on her phone with one hand while the other absentmindedly held the remote.

She wasn’t paying attention. Not to the movie, and definitely not to him.

And that should’ve been his cue to stay in his lane. To stay cool. Stay detached. Stay fun.

But something was gnawing at his chest. Something soft and stupid. He’d had a rough week—pressures piling up, one of his brothers snapping at him earlier that day, a fight with his mom still ringing in his ears. He felt frayed. Small.

So he slid closer.

Just a little at first. Testing the waters. She didn’t react.

Then closer still, until their legs brushed. Still nothing.

And then, cautiously—he rested his head on her shoulder.

A silent little plea: Hold me. Just this once.

She stiffened.

Didn’t look at him. Didn’t say anything for a beat.

Then she shifted her weight just enough to push him off without being obvious.

“You good?” she asked, not concerned, just... irritated. Like he’d sneezed on her.

Chris sat up straight, face burning. “Yeah. Sorry. Just got tired.”

“Right,” she said, eyes still on her phone.

The silence after that was brutal.

He stared at the screen, heart pounding in the worst way—not from nerves, but from shame. Something sour pooled in his stomach. His skin felt too tight.

After a minute, she clicked her tongue. “You’ve been weird lately.”

Chris didn’t look at her. “I’ve just been stressed.”

“Okay, but like… I can’t be your emotional support dog, Chris.”

His jaw locked.

That was it. That was the moment.

Something inside him folded up. Sealed shut.

“Yeah,” he said, voice flat. “No, you’re right.”

He didn’t touch like her again for three weeks. He touched her, but not softly—needily. And even when he did—it was only ever when she initiated.

She never noticed the shift. But he did.

March 1st, 2024

It was rare for Chris to feel like this. Light.

No heavy thoughts, just warm skin, tangled sheets, and the sun bleeding through half-closed blinds in that way that made everything feel hazy and safe.

They’d slept in—really slept. No alarms, no rush. Just a lazy Saturday, limbs all knotted together, his face buried against her shoulder, her hand resting on his waist.

And for once, she hadn’t pushed him away.

He felt soft. Giddy. Like this version of the world might actually be good to him for once.

He nuzzled closer, smiling against her skin, arms tightening around her waist like he never wanted to let go. “Mmm,” he hummed, voice still raspy from sleep. “You’re so warm.”

She didn’t respond right away, so he kept going.

“I could stay like this forever,” he mumbled, kissing her shoulder, slow and lazy. “You smell good. Like—like laundry 'n sunshine 'n roses.”

He was rambling. Stupid, smiley, and soft. And he didn’t care.

“Chris,” she said suddenly, her voice flat.

He blinked.

“Yeah?”

A pause. Then: “You gotta stop acting like a girl, man. It’s honestly kinda weird.”

His heart stuttered.

“What?”

She laughed. “The cuddling. The clingy comments. You’re being mad soft. It’s giving—” she made a face, “—emotionally unstable.”

Chris went still.

Completely, bone-deep still.

“Oh,” he said, quietly.

She didn’t notice. Or if she did, she didn’t care. She was already rolling out of bed, stretching like nothing happened, tugging her hoodie back over her head.

“I’m gonna make coffee,” she said casually. “You want anything?”

Chris shook his head.

She left the room, door clicking shut behind her.

And just like that, the warmth was gone. The safety. The glow.

He sat there for a long time, arms crossed over his bare chest, jaw tight, lips pressed in a flat line.

The bed felt cold now.

He swallowed hard.

Then slowly laid back down, facing the wall.

And told himself not to do that again. Not to ever do that again.

March 20th, 2024

It felt amazing— the kind where his hand was on her throat, and her nails were clawing down his back. Where the sheets were twisted under them, the headboard knocking against the wall, and neither one of them was holding back.

“Fuck—Chris,” she moaned, dragging her hips up to meet his thrusts. “Just like that—don’t stop.”

He grinned, all teeth and sweat, drunk on the way her voice cracked. “You like that, huh?” he panted, leaning down to kiss her—messy and hot and open-mouthed.

Her hands fisted in his curls, yanking hard. He groaned against her mouth.

It was perfect—fast, rough, breathless.

She scratched down his spine and he gasped, rhythm faltering for a second.

“Harder,” she demanded, legs wrapping around his waist.

Chris obliged, hips slamming into hers harder, deeper, faster—chasing that high, chasing the heat in her eyes, chasing the way she made him feel like he could be good at this. Like he was wanted.

And then she clenched around him, dragging a moan from his throat—sharp and raw and just a little too high.

It slipped out. A soft, helpless whimper. It wasn't loud, or above a breath, but everything stopped.

She blinked up at him.

He stilled, still inside her, suddenly hyper-aware of every breath, every inch of skin touching hers.

“…What the fuck was that?” she asked, brows drawn.

Chris froze. “What?”

“That noise,” she repeated. “That little—what was that? Did you just whimper?”

He felt his whole body go cold. “I didn’t mean—”

“Ew.” She shoved at his chest. “Seriously? You sounded like a bitch in heat.”

He stared at her.

Her mouth curled. “God, that turned me so off.”

She pushed him off entirely. He scrambled back, heart pounding, still hard and aching—but it didn’t matter.

Nothing about this felt good anymore.

She pulled her shirt back on without looking at him. “I need a shower. Alone.”

The door slammed behind her.

Chris sat there, motionless, shame burning under his skin like fire.

He was still half-naked, still hard, but now it just felt wrong. His own body betraying him. His voice betraying him.

He stared at the door for a long time.

March 27th, 2024

He spotted her standing with her friends, laughing and chatting like the center of attention. The sight made his chest ache in that familiar way — like he wanted to crawl inside her, disappear in her warmth.

Summoning every ounce of courage, he walked over and slipped behind her. Without a word, he rested his head gently against her neck, breathing in her scent, and wrapped his arms slowly around her waist.

For a moment, it felt like maybe this time — maybe here — he could just be soft.

But then she laughed. Not a quiet laugh. A loud, teasing laugh meant to be heard.

Her friends turned, eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Ew, Chris, what are you doing?” she said, voice dripping with mockery as she tried to push him off.

One of her friends smirked. “Dude, chill. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Another snorted. “Since when did Chris get so clingy? Thought he was the cocky one.”

Chris’s cheeks burned redder than the room’s neon lights. He tightened his grip on her waist for a second — desperate to hold onto any shred of comfort — then slowly let go.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, voice barely audible over the laughter.

She just rolled her eyes and turned back to her friends, leaving him exposed and ashamed.

June 1st, 2024

The apartment was cold, despite the late spring sun pouring in through the blinds. Chris sat on the edge of the couch, hands tangled in his hair, heart racing with every word she might say.

She stood by the door, arms crossed, face unreadable.

“Chris,” she said, voice clipped, “we’re done.”

He blinked. “What?”

“We’re done,” she repeated. “You’re too soft. Too… whatever the hell you are. I can’t deal with it anymore.”

He swallowed hard. “Soft? I’m just… me.”

“No, you’re weak. And I’m tired of cleaning up after you.”

Her words hit like knives. Chris’s breath caught, his chest tightening.

“I’ve tried,” he said quietly. “I really tried.”

She scoffed. “Tried? You think that excuses you? You cry, you whine, you need—”

“Need what?” he interrupted, voice breaking. “Love? Support? Jesus, I just wanted you to be here for me.”

She shook her head, stepping toward the door. “I’m not your babysitter. I want someone who can handle me, not the other way around.”

Chris’s shoulders slumped. The fight drained out of him like blood from a wound.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay, then.”

She didn’t look back.

The door slammed behind her, echoing through the empty apartment.

Chris sat there long after the sound faded, the silence swallowing him whole.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry.

Something inside him was supposed to feel relieved. That maybe he could express himself once more.

But something about her changed him. He felt like a dam on the brink of exploding constantly, but something was always holding him back

Because the part of him that hoped for comfort had been crushed, and now, years later, it still weighed him down like a stone tied to his chest.

[fawnoria]

"just one more" | breeding kink w/ geto suguru MDNI 18+

you’ve long lost track of how many times he’s spilled into you. whatever thin edge of resistance you had left was dissolved, multiple orgasms ago. now every one of your nerve feels abraded, rubbed raw from overstimulation.

suguru hovers above you, chest heaving, warm breath hitting your cheek. his hair’s come undone entirely—locks of midnight silk clinging damply to his temples, inky strands plastered to his cheek. the rest swings freely, a loose curtain that veils your vision when he leans down to kiss you.

he’s still buried to the hilt. still hard. twitching deep where you’ve gone plush and sore. pretending this isn’t entirely for his own gratification. his palm rests on your belly, thumb idly stroking just beneath your navel, right over the spot he keeps glancing at with languid, obsessive interest. the spot where, if he’s lucky, you’ll carry something for him soon.

“still with me, sweet girl?” his voice is cloying—syrup lacquered in concern, though the heel of his palm is still applying deliberate pressure on your lower abdomen.

“you’re taking me so well. m’ so proud of you.”

you wince when he rocks his hips. wet heat spills down the backs of your thighs, and you feel your combined spend, leaking around the seal of your cunt. geto doesn’t pull out. of course he doesn’t. instead he starts moving again, slow and grinding, purposefully shallow—all the better to push it all in deeper. you choke on a gasp. he hums in approval. something about it makes your cunt clench, traitorous even now.

“just one more,” he lies through his teeth. “then we’ll stop. promise.” your laugh breaks weakly, dry in your throat.

“sugu, you said that three times already.”

geto pauses. tilts his head like he’s thinking it over. “did i?” he muses, mock-sheepish. “must’ve lost count.”

the expression on his face slackens for just a second. and in that second, the real smile unfurls: serpentine and cold, teeth hidden behind lips parted too wide. that same, terrible grin you’d witnessed in the temple corridor, when he thought no one was watching. but when your gaze meets his again, the mask is back on. only warmth remains—your suguru, smiling fondly down at you as if he hasn’t just spent the past hour fucking the sanity out of you. as if he isn’t planning another round.

“one more,” he promises, planting a kiss to your temple. “after this one, i’ll let you rest.”

[halcyon-writings]

nav.

iasip style title card: His real name is Rafayel "attached at the hip" Deepspace. may the rafayel girlies pull the new myth in the least amount of pulls!

You know that the reason you're at this art show is because Rafayel had asked you to come with him. Several times, actually, in the span of the days that had come before it. You weren't usually a fan of such spaces, given the fact that the last time you went to one, it was only through the combined efforts of Thomas and Rafayel, that you didn't punch some critic for being far too rude.

"Pleaseeeeee," Rafayel had begged even. The artist had come over that morning with breakfast from the cafe you both liked to go to. The scent of hot cakes and the warm syrup had made your mouth water. But no... you must stay strong...

Of course, such a thing is easier said than done when you hear your stomach growl rather loudly. You had gotten home pretty late last night, so dinner wasn't on your mind as much as falling into bed and immediately passing out was.

Rafayel's pleading expression becomes smug. But he slides over a latte, and you know that your fate is sealed as the scent of coffee floats towards your nostrils. You don't even playfully swat at him when he presses a kiss to your cheek, thanking you with a melodic like laugh that once again proves how much you let him get away with.

"I'll make sure you have everything ready for later, you don't have to worry about a thing," You can't help but squint as he lists off what you'll need. An outfit (one that is matching his, obviously), accessories to match said outfit, and just registry into the guest list. Given who Rafayel was, all of that was easy to acquire.

The gallery's venue was the rented out rooftop of some restaurant, one whose waiting list was both impressive and intimidating. Another part of you found it ridiculous when you looked up their menu out of curiosity and saw the portion size.

Thomas, looking relieved that Rafayel appeared at all, is quick to greet you too, bringing you some of the appetizers that were catered, that you gratefully accept.

"Finally made it?" A familiar voice asks behind you, sneaking a piece from your plate as Rafayel's eyes twinkle with mirth.

You hum, chewing thoughtfully, "Of course, I was invited by the gallery's star of the show."

Rafayel laughs, a sound that makes you smile as well.

"Come on," A familiar touch of his hand rests at the small of your back, his palm is warm. You'd almost think he was a completely different person with the charming smiles he gives, when you think about the past instances of Rafayel not wishing to attend galas or events, where Thomas had to all but drag him along.

Even when guests wanted to speak to him in regards to work and what not, somehow, someway Rafayel always managed to turn the conversation towards something else. Before excusing both him and yourself to a more secluded part of the upper floor.

His arm was now wrapped around your waist, keeping you at his side.

"You know, Thomas is going to get on you for not mingling," You sing-song quietly, bringing your glass to your lips as you drink some water. "He's probably looking for you right now."

Rafayel huffs, but doesn't let go, instead, somehow you think he found a way to stand even closer within your personal space. "He'll be fine, I already mingled enough. I would rather spend my evening with you, then be around these snobs."

You shrug, but your own hand rests against his leg, giving his hip a small pat in comfort. "You poor, poor thing," The faux comfort isn't lost on him, but Rafayel plays it up anyway. He nods along, sniffing at the "indignity" of it all.

"But you will have to let go eventually, I can't save you from an irate Thomas if he gets to that point." You say, watching as Rafayel puts a hand to his heart, blinking.

"Oh, you hate me, cutie." He bemoans. "To be apart from you is like asking a man to stop breathing."

This time you do laugh. Which makes his gasp of mock outrage even funnier.

"Oh, hello Thomas!" You chirp, just to watch Rafayel jump, hiding behind you, only to peer over your shoulder to find... nothing.

He squints at you. You wink at him. He's quick to forgive after a kiss on the cheek, or a couple.

[jordiemeow]

Thinking ab bob asking you to sit on his face for the first time... <3

—🎲

warnings: 18+ smut, f!receiving oral, sub!bob, face sitting, cumming untouched

Bob isn’t the most adventurous in bed (unless you suggest something), but he does like to please, so this is something he’s wanted to try for a while. To have you suffocating him between your thighs, nose filled with your scent, mouth filled with your taste. And it doesn’t take much convincing from him to have you agreeing.

Who wouldn’t want a beautiful man worshipping them from beneath?

He's laying down on the bed exactly like you'd instructed him—flat on his back, golden brown hair spreading across the pillows, his arms tucked right by his sides. His chest rises and falls rapidly in anticipation.

You straddle his chest slowly, and his eyes widen like he's about to be blessed and destroyed in the same moment.

"Are you sure?" You ask, gripping his jaw to make him meet your eyes when he nods jerkily. You tsk softly. "Use your words, Bob."

"Please." His voice cracks. "I want it. I need it. Just... just use me, okay? I can handle it."

That's all the permission you need. You slide forward, taking your place on his face, and feel the moment his breath catches beneath you. He moans immediately, tongue already stuck out and flat. You grind down, head tilting back at the immediate gratification you receive from his eager licks. He loves the way you don't let him ease into it.

He practically whimpers under the pressure of your cunt. "Fuck, you're so wet," he mumbles against you, voice muffled and tinged with awe. "Don't stop. Just ride me. I'll be fine, I can take it. Don't need to breathe."

You almost laugh at how pathetic he sounds. Despite reassuring him earlier that if he wanted you to stop he just needed to tap your thigh three times, you're certain he'll keep going until he passes out if it really comes down to it.

You hold his face in place with both hands, fingers curled into the hair at the side. Your hips move in slow but deep motions, pressing your dripping pussy against his mouth. His tongue moves like he’s memorised exactly how to please you; his nose bumps against your clit just right as you grind your hole against him. When you pull back slightly to let him breathe, he gasps for air like he’s just been submerged underwater.

And then he smiles, chin slick and white teeth glinting.

"You taste amazing," he slurs, eyes twinkling like he’s drunk on just the taste of your sweet cunt. "I could die like this. Please, let me die like this."

You laugh breathily, sinking back down onto him.

This time, you don’t let up. Your thighs clench around his head, your rhythm gets rougher, wetter, needier. He groans beneath you like he’s in heaven, his own hips twitching upwards mindlessly as you use his face. It’s frantic, desperate. His tongue works harder, lips sealing around your clit to suckle on it, hands coming up to support your thighs. He kneads and grips at your flesh, eyes rolling back.

When you glance back, you catch sight of it—he’s leaking through his pants again. Cock untouched, rock hard, and completely ignored.

"You gonna cum from this?" You taunt, lips curled up into a cruel smile that makes him twitch in his pants. "That’s pathetic, Bob. This is really all it takes?"

He moans into you like those words are what send him over the edge.

His body stiffens, back arching up off the bed, and then he shudders. A long, broken gasp escapes him between your thighs as he releases into his boxers, completely untouched, soaking the fabric with warmth right through his sweatpants. He moans helplessly into your soaked heat as your own climax hits you.

"God, Bob, don’t stop. Just like that. Yeah, yeah—" Your voice breaks, thighs trembling around his face. "Oh."

You don’t stop right away, moaning with your head tipped back and your hands pulling on his hair. Rocking a little slower, dragging it out, keeping him whining senselessly beneath you as he laps up everything you have to offer. As far as you’re concerned, this is exactly where he belongs—underneath you, messy, ruined, and still desperate to serve.

Finally, you lift up just enough to see him.

His face is soaked, his eyes are glassy, lips red and swollen. His chest is heaving even more than when you started and boy, he looks gone. A blissed-out, panting god with cum in his pants and your taste still on his tongue.

"You didn’t even touch yourself," you chastise playfully.

"Didn’t need to," he rasps hoarsely, smiling up at you. "You touched me enough."

"Not where it mattered."

"Was still enough."

—

taglist: @lvve-talks @won-every-lottery @pittsick @voidsuites @artaussi @ashdaidiot @florkt @matchpointfaist @hangels @zweiism @lacelottie @gracelynnx — (join here)

[meadowfics]

tat for tat

namgyu x f!tattooed!reader

warnings: tattoos. reader has specific tattoos detailed for the plot. no squid games. suggestive (borderline smut) details. 18+

namgyu’s always been obsessed with the way your tattoos weave drawings across your skin, each one a piece of you he gets to love up close.

he traces them with his fingertips, but his favorite thing is kissing them, like he’s sealing their meaning into you.

the cherries on your lower back?

they’re his weakness.

when you’re sprawled out, maybe reading or scrolling on your phone, he’ll sneak up behind you, hands resting on your hips, and lean down to press his lips to those cherries just above the curve of your spine.

namgyu's kisses are soft, warm, lingering, and they send shivers through you every time.

he’ll murmur something sweet, like how they’re his favorite fruit now, his voice low and teasing, but there’s this reverence in it, like he’s worshiping the art that’s part of you.

sometimes, he’ll rest his chin there after, arms wrapped around your waist, just breathing you in, like the cherries are a map to his home.

your bow tattoo on your left arm gets him too.

it’s delicate, simple, but he loves how it sits there, like a gift waiting to be untied.

when you’re holding hands or just sitting close, he’ll bring your arm to his lips, kissing the bow with this playful smirk, saying it’s his job to keep it tied tight for you. (smooth, namgyu.)

there is a four word quote on your right arm...something so personal it feels like a secret you’ve shared with him...gets a different kind of kiss.

that quote gets a slower, and deeper kiss, like he’s trying to memorize the words through his lips.

he’ll ask you to tell him the story behind it again, even though he knows it by heart, just to hear your voice light up.

the flower at the top of your right arm, blooming bold and bright, gets its own attention.

he’ll kiss it when you’re cooking or distracted, sneaking a quick peck and saying it reminds him of how you’re always growing, always beautiful.

don't tell thanos how sappy this mf namgyu can get.

the dragonfly on your foot is trickier to reach, unless you're both having sex in missionary or in mating-press.

he’ll grab your ankle as he's above you, pull it gently to his lips, and kiss the delicate wings of the dragonfly. namgyu gets distracted while hes inside of you, you can’t help but giggle through your moans when his soft lips tickles your skin.

the large spider on your right arm, though?

that one makes him pause, not out of fear but awe.

however did that tattoo of yours must've taken their time with that spider.

you tell him how it was your only spontaneous tattoo. the spider was not a planned tattoo like your other ones.

namgyu will trace its legs with his thumb before kissing it, joking that the spider's name is pentagon.

the zodiac symbol below your collarbone...he loves that one for how close it sits to your heart. he’ll kiss it softly when you’re lying in bed, his lips brushing just under your collarbone, whispering that it’s his favorite constellation because it’s yours.

namgyu’s tattoos are their own kind of magic to you.

the guy's left arm is a canvas, a full sleeve of intricate designs that you could spend hours exploring.

the lucky seven on the back of his left wrist is your favorite to play with. you’ll trace the sharp lines of the numbers with your fingers, teasing him about how it’s his little piece of luck.

when you’re feeling playful, you grab your colored markers and start filling in the designs on his arm...swirls of blue in the waves, red in the flames, green in the leaves.

he sits still for you, watching with this soft, adoring smile, like you’re painting a masterpiece on him.

he’ll laugh when you get a little too focused, smudging green on your cheek, and pull you close to kiss the mess off your face.

there’s one tattoo on his arm that’s yours in every way.

no literally, that tattoo on his arm was for you.

it is a flower that matches your birth month, inked in vibrant detail.

you did that tattoo yourself, your hands steady but your heart racing as you etched the design into his skin.

he’d asked you to do it, said he wanted something that was yours forever.

you even tucked your initials into the petals, small and subtle, but he knows they’re there.

every time he looks at it, he touches it. when he kisses you after you're finished putting the second-skin on top of his tattoo, it’s with this quiet intensity, like he’s thanking you for leaving a piece of yourself with him.

you love coloring that one in the most, picking shades that make your flower pop, and he’ll watch you work.

you'll never forget the night when you came home with his name inked on your right ankle.

“namgyu,” written in a delicate script, curling just above the bone.

you’d planned it in secret, wanting to surprise him, and when you showed him, his reaction was everything.

namgyu's eyes went wide, his breath caught, and then he was on his knees in front of you, fingers grazing the fresh ink like it was something holy.

he kissed it...once, twice, a dozen times...his lips so soft but urgent, like he was trying to pour all his love into that one spot.

he looked up at you, voice rough, saying, “you did this for me, pretty girl?”

you nodded, feeling your heart swell at the way he looked at you, like you were his whole world.

that tattoo became his obsession.

he’d find any excuse to touch it, kiss it, whether you’re tangled in bed or just passing by him in the kitchen. it’s his favorite piece of you, he says, because it’s his name, his claim, written in your skin forever.

you both spend lazy evenings together, tracing each other’s tattoos, you’ll lie on the couch with his arm slung over your shoulders and your fingers dancing over his sleeve while he plays with the zodiac symbol below your collarbone.

he’ll tease you about getting another tattoo, maybe something matching, and you’ll laugh, saying you’re running out of space.

secretly, you love the idea...another piece of him on you, another piece of you on him.

it’s like your love is a gallery, inked across your bodies.

masterlist

authors note: I described two of my own tattoos in this fic🫣

[swetblom]

hii!! idk if you’re taking requests / ideas rn but i was wondering if u had any blurbs or anything in mind with brian and sugarcoat! reader? loved her introduction and needed to see more 💗

been gone for a while! had some crazy writers block but i can definitely give you something to build your little requests on!

you’re just as attentive as he is. he’s all quiet knowing—watches from afar and leaves sweet gifts you swear you only mentioned once. maybe not even out loud. you see every twitch, every uneasy shift when someone annoys him. the way his smile tightens when someone smiles too long at you. so, of course, you notice his behavior. a weird cut on his knuckle that he waves off—“cut myself at work,” he says. a night where he’s too still, too quiet, and you can feel the way he’s listening for the news to say something specific. that one time he forgot to hide the look in his eyes—that dead calm—when someone bumped into you too hard at a bar.

most would run, tell the cops. that’s a human feeling. but you? no. you don’t bat an eye when the rug in the hallway in front of your apartment door changes. gone one morning, replaced by a new one the next day. you just run your toes over the edge and say, “didn’t know you had opinions about rugs.” he shrugs, offers a short smile then presses a small kiss to your head to almost make it forget about it. not even when, you come home to a new lock on the door—one you didn’t ask for. one he never brings up. you notice, of course. not because you need a key but because the key for the new one was already hooked in placement on your keychain where the other one was before. you just kiss his cheek and say, “thinks that one’s sturdier.”

you’re simply too loyal to budge. the cat kind. you rub up against danger because it’s yours. you stay because it makes you feel alive. you like being chosen by someone who could break you, but doesn’t— and who might break others for you.

there’s one night—it’s a bad one. you can feel it the moment brian walks through the door. his body’s loose the way it gets when he’s keeping tension out of his voice. his smile is wrong—too soft at the corners, too much breath behind it. he tells you dinner smells good, kisses your cheek, lets you lean into him—but his eyes are elsewhere. you don’t ask. you never do.

you just tuck yourself into him while you eat, keep your voice low, soothing, all casual sweetness and laughter like sugar on your tongue. he doesn’t laugh, not really. just hums here and there.

later, in bed, the lights low, you both lie still—waiting for sleep to take over. “i miss you when you’re not here like this,” you say softly. you don’t look at him when you say it. not yet. you just keep tracing slow, lazy shapes on his chest with your nail. half-hearts, circles.

he’s silent. his glaze shifts from the ceiling fan above to you (the top of your head). trying to see if this is a trap. trying to figure out how much you know. “and what,” he says eventually, low and even, “do you think I’m doing when i’m not here?”

there’s no warmth in the question. no venom either. it’s the sound of a man preparing for loss. you shift to look at him and your eyes are so damn soft, it cracks him—a little.

“nothing i want you to explain,” you say, voice like a lullaby. “whatever it is, brian, I don’t care.” you smile, a little wicked. a little dreamy.

you move closer, mouth grazing the shell of his ear as you whisper: “you’re careful. you’re sweet to me. you love me the way i want to be loved. that’s all that matters.” then, quieter: “I don’t care what you do. just come back to me.” then you kiss his ear, right at the top, almost to seal it.

his hand, slides down your back and ghosts over your hips as you pull back to get a look at him. he’s chasing your eyes, trying to see if there is something malice— anything. but he fails. his breath shortens, he doesn’t know what it’s like to be chosen like this.

“you should care,” he says, calculated.

you shake your head, lips brushing his. “but i don’t. i chose you.” you kiss him softly, cupping his lips with yours.

the next night, he’s a little earlier then usual. you’re just happy to see him, he shrugs his jacket off and meets you at the couch. he flops down and instantly opens his arms to you which you happy move into, putting your legs over his. “not gonna shower?” you take him in as he looks at the tv in front of you. as your eyes meet his neck, you notice it—a faint spatter of something dark at the collar of his shirt. “not yet,” he replies, tugging your legs further up his legs. you tug at the hem of his shirt, “take this off.” he looks at you, slightly confused but sits up and lets you pull it over his head anyway.

“i smell that bad?” he grins. you shake your head and lift the shirt to show him the blood on the collar. without another word, you stand from the couch and walk to laundry room. he mentally scowls at himself. It’s not often he makes mistakes like that. he has to admit—he was distracted, still thinking about your voice from the night before. the way you said I chose you like it was simple. like it meant something permanent.

he hears the doors open of the washing machine open and close then start again before the pitter-patter of your feet come to him. you flop back onto the couch and curl right back up to him. he doesn’t say anything for a moment. just stares at you, his chest quiet, his eyes caught on your profile like you’re something unreal. “how lucky am i?” he questions to himself. “lucky as hell,” you smile, smashing your lips onto his.

[hypnohimbodrone]

The Server Claims Another

Jack had been sent by the police station to find out what was going on with the men in the village, but he knew they were watching him.

But he also knew something else: they were doing it less carefully.

Over the past three weeks, he’d documented three disappearances. All men. All last seen with Darren or Alex. He’d seen flickers of green light through windows, strange shifts in behavior, and just once, a pair of spiral-glowing eyes through a car’s rearview mirror.

Whatever was happening in this village, it wasn’t subtle anymore.

But tonight, he’d push his luck.

Jack crouched behind a stack of firewood near Darren’s cottage. Camera on. Audio live. The time stamp blinking. It was nearly 1 a.m.

Inside, he could hear voices, flat, unified. A chant.

“Together, We Are The Server.”

His breath caught. He was finally catching them red-handed.

He peeked through a gap in the shutters.

Darren stood at the centre of the room, suited head-to-toe in that sleek black material with green accents that pulsed rhythmically like a heartbeat. Beside him, Alex. Matching suit. Spiral eyes. The green glow cast strange shadows on the walls.

Between them knelt a man half-transformed. The bodysuit crept across his torso, his mouth slightly open as he repeated the mantra under his breath.

Jack took a quick photo.

Click.

A whisper cut through the dark.

“You’ve seen too much.”

He spun around.

Darren stood behind him. No sound, no footsteps. Just there.

Jack staggered back. “Stay the hell away from me!”

But it was too late. Alex was already there too, eyes glowing, arms ready.

“Jack,” Darren said, calm and deep. “You’ve been watching. You’ve been curious. And now, you’re ready.”

Darren raised his hand, a spiral already forming from a gauntlet mounted at his wrist. It spun, soft and smooth, pulling Jack’s eyes forward.

“No” Jack grunted and forced his gaze away, stumbling into the woods.

The spiral faded behind the trees.

He ran. Leaves tore at his coat. His lungs burned. But he had to get away. Had to warn someone. Had to...

Suddenly, he was pulled off his feet.

Thrown softly but firmly against a tree.

Alex stood there, panting quietly, green spirals glowing full-force now. His bodysuit shimmered under the moonlight, glossy and perfect.

Jack was about to yell until Alex pressed a finger to his lips.

“You don’t need to run anymore.”

Jack struggled, but Alex’s grip was strong too strong.

“I saw how you looked at me,” Alex whispered, moving closer. “Curious. Not just as a journalist. You’ve always wanted purpose. Obedience. Structure.”

Jack shook his head weakly. “I... didn’t...”

Alex leaned in, slowly, until their faces were inches apart.

“You don’t need to think anymore.”

And then Alex kissed him.

Jack’s body tensed, then trembled, then melted.

The world went silent.

In that kiss, the spiral wasn’t just seen, it was felt. Downloaded directly into him. Flooding every part of his mind with perfect, blissful clarity.

Green light pulsed beneath his skin. The bodysuit began forming on him, first his legs, then up his chest, sealing over his skin like a second, living layer. Glossy, black, seamless.

Jack’s eyes fluttered once, then opened, glowing with spirals.

He took his first breath as a drone.

Darren stepped from the trees.

“Welcome,” he said.

Jack stood tall.

“I am the Server.”

Darren and Alex joined him. Three silhouettes in the woods, glowing faintly beneath the trees.

And in unison, they said:

“Together, We Are The Server.”

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

His Soul Living On | Yandere HUNTR/X

She felt the droplets before she bothered to see their source. 

It was the dead of night. Another successful performance and she was happy to be back home. Happy to curl into the undone sheets she left behind, a silent invitation to return to the only reprieve from…all of it. 

While the city glowed with a menagerie of individual lights the golden barrier of the Honmoon glowed above it all. Instilling a peacefulness that Rumi felt was so long sought after. Rubbing her arms, tracing the marks along them with a newfound appreciation. Still, it felt….incomplete without him here. At night she was plagued with visions of the demon. Haunting as they were mesmerizing, always lulling her into those meetings where she was free with him. Before dropping her into the warm but harsh concrete of reality. 

Jin was gone but she was free. Accepted by herself and her friends, soaring higher in the idol space, and having fewer demons appearing than ever before she should be happy. She should be full. 

But like the night that bird with a hat appeared on her balcony. It’s what’s least expected that opens the door to the part of her heart she keeps sealed away. 

“You knew him, yes?”

It was the dead of night. The sun is long gone. The other parts of Hunter/x are all fast asleep by now. Her sheets are lightly damp with sweat and the wetness on her cheeks isn’t solely because of her. 

Floating above, in the space between the ceiling and her bed is you. Half of your body lightly curled from the blue ring of a familiar portal. Defying all laws of gravity as none of your clothes or hair sag. The marks on your skin are like hers glowing golden and your eyes amber as any demons are filled with tears. 

It’s second nature for her to reach up. To hold a face filled with tears for the one she hasn’t stopped grieving. It didn’t matter that Mira and Zoey bought tubs of ice cream or played break-up songs on her off days. 

It hurt. 

And the hardest thing about mourning is when you’re doing it by yourself. Only then when you escape the neat platitudes that come with loss are you forced to confront it—accept it. For Rumi, it’s the hardest thing to do and while it’s no comfort that someone’s in pain like her, she’s happy to not be the only one. 

Without thinking she pulls the rest of you out of the portal, holding you tight as she settles back into her bed. Barely detaching herself to pull at the duvet engulfing the both of you in the warmth of puffy cotton. 

Stay here. 

The words are unspoken as she hugs you tight and you return it. Both of you giving into the pull of peaceful slumber. 

Nightmares spare you both for the night.

______________________________________________________________

The coming morning is awkward. It’s natural that she wakes bright and early to abide by her skin routine, forgoing the makeup for the day off. Turning to her bed to make it neat only to remember why a demon with tussled hair is staring back at her. 

“Who are you?!”

“How’d you get in here?”

“Where’d you get those earrings?”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

The questions come fast and so do their faces. Barely allowing you a hair of difference as they inspect you like the mystery you seem to be. Rumi lets them, curious herself and allowing herself to rule out every situation that this could be. 

A hole in the Honmoon?!

Another iteration of Gwi-Ma?!

A new demon risen to power strong enough to tear a hole throught the HONMOON!?

“Uh Rumi your making that face again,” Mira mused picking at the plate of uneaten food in front of you.”

“W-what there’s no face!”

“Uh yeah, it’s the face where you like totally overanalyze something and you don’t want to share.”

Zoey ended with a pout as if reminding Rumi of her all too recent past of omitting her feelings. Their lead sighs before sitting down next to you, grabbing at the hands that were gingerly holding chopsticks before.

“Okay, can you please just tell us who you are and why you’ve come.”

For a moment you just stare at her, making her think for a moment you don’t speak the same language but then you lean back. 

Taking an audible intake of air you speak.

“I used to know Jin he was my friend…he protected me from Gwi Ma for a long time.”

They all look at you with their jaws dropped. You shrink into yourself.

“Wow, you like have a really pretty sounding voice even though you’re super quiet.” 

“Yeah you almost sound like an angel!”

You shrivel at the compliments. Rumi squeezes your hand bringing your attention back to her. 

“So he protected you, is that why you’re here because he’s…” She doesn’t finish her sentence with you she knew she didn’t need to.

“No. More like I’m finally doing what he told me to.”

“And what was that?”

“To learn who I really am,” you trailed off looking skeptically at the idols hanging off your every word,” with…him?” 

They all share a loud “WHAAATTT?” Before reeling it back. Mira was the first to question turning your chair in her direction.

“Wait so Jinu told you to go learn who you are with him?”

You nodded. 

Zoey scooted closer, “So this had to be pretty far in the past. Maybe an old promise he made! Like a hundred years ago or something, right?”

“He made it before he died.”

The team was in a craze. Openly theory-crafting about what this meant. Perhaps Jinu thought he’d be free to do as he pleased once Gwi Ma won so that’s why? But that didn’t make sense considering Rumi felt he’d always planned to help. It was a mess.

“I GOT IT!”

You jumped at Rumi’s declaration while her teammates leaned in both of them tapping their fingers for an imaginary drumroll.  “Jinu said that because he was planning to use his soul to help Huntr/x beat Gwi Ma so he means us! So we’re supposed to carry on the mission of helping them find themselves!” 

“Hm, that does sound like the actions of the heartthrob you fell in love with.” “ZOEY!”

“But how do we know that we wouldn’t kill them on the spot we are hunters after all

“I don’t know…I guess he just knew”

From that day forward, Huntr/x takes you under their wing. Showing you the casual comforts of everyday life you seem so unfamiliar with. Talking with you more they discovered you were similar to Rumi in in that you weren’t fully a demon. Able to live among humans and not crave their souls.

It was easy to appoint you as Bobby’s assistant, learning from him the ins and outs of the business while discovering how vast the world is. Stuck in the demon realm for most of your life, you’d never seen much of the world. 

It was on their world tour that Rumi watched your eyes light up at the sight of the Honmoon. Just as elated as they are to see a world filled with fans’ joy protecting the world from the demons that threaten it. It’s here, bathing in the afterglow of a successful performance that she feels as though she’s reached it. The high she had with Jinu, continued well into the night as you joined them on their relaxed nightly patrol. Laughing as you try to outrun Zoey across the rooftops of Japan. She feels as though this is what he gave his soul to her for.

To witness the blossom he’s protected bloom under the caring hands of Huntr/x. This is her perfection, her fulfillment and she won’t ever stop accepting that this life is all hers. 

__________________________________________________________

“I’m going to America!” 

You had shouted over victory ramyeun. Incurring the turning heads of everyone in Hunter/x and the steady slurping coming to a stop. Unbothered you finish slurping yours before going for the rest of the minute-ready broth. The ramyeun cup slowly turns up blocking your view of the shocked faces looking at each other across from you. 

By the time your broth was gone and you were looking at them all again, they had wide insincere smiles on their faces. None the wiser, thanks to your lack of social-awareness you smile back taking their response as pride in you.

“One of the managers from that collaboration gave me a call, and said I could maybe join the team and learn the ropes from them.”

Mira was struggling, “So how do you plan to…live out there? You don’t exactly have any money.”

“Oh she said she’d take care of it, said she’d also help me make a bank account too.”

“Wow,” Zoey’s eye is twitching and so is her smile,” how…generous.”

Rumi takes the initiative scooting closer on the couch to you as if proximity would make you reconsider the offer.

“You know we don’t feel burdened by you at all!”

She gestured to the group, “We’ve all really enjoyed having you with us, and if you want you can keep staying with us!”

The team was smiling for real, their sincerity shown in the joy in their eyes. Because like Rumi, they accept her, they accept you for all that you are. All that Jinu meant to protect.

“Thanks but I think I’m going to take the job. Bobby thinks I should too, said he’s worried about me taking his job one day.”

You continue raving about the manager you met, the group she manages, and all the things you heard of from another place you’d never explored. Accepting their too-wide smiles, their twitching eyes, and the violent crushing of empty Ramyeun cups. 

Completely unaware of the upset you’d created. 

Rumi didn’t mind.

She could fix this. 

Just like with Jinu.

She has a plan.

_____________________________________________________

“Welcome to the Blue Table: Live with Laura Singh! Today we have all of Hunter/x tonight to talk about the latest album: Living On! Good evening to you all!”

“Hey everyone.”

“Hiiii!”

“‘Sup!”

“....Hi.”

“Now let’s get into all the hot new buzz about Hunter/x’s biggest update. An all-new member to the infamously adored trio! So what’s it like to join this legendary group?”

The new member looks surprised, turning to the live audience eagerly waiting and to the members of their team on each side of them.

“It’s really…awesome!”

The audience erupts with cheers and applause. The host smiles widely and waits for the audience’s praise to die down before she asks her next question. 

“So tell me (Y/n) what made you join this group? Some might say that this trio didn’t need anyone else, what do you say to that?”

The audience leans in like the host, all of them eagerly awaiting the response to such a long-anticipated question. Socials were blowing up with more and more people streaming biting at their nails to hear what the response.

The new member stutters, frantic eyes looking at their members. Rumi dutifully steps in,”(Y/n) is a little nervous but we’ve all accepted them as a part of our family and we hope you do too!”

The audience coos.

“Yeah,” Mira smiles at the camera,” this family sticks together and we couldn’t have made the latest album without them.”

The crowds swoon.

Zoe strikes a pose,”(Y/n) was destined to be a part of us Hunters and I think we can all agree there’s no better role for them than right here.”

She pulls everyone in for a hug, with you right in the middle.

The fans watching frantically clip the moment, reposting immediately to their socials and into their editing software. 

“Uh, I guess to answer the question myself the role kind of…snuck up on me?”

Zoey casually flicks the back of your neck, which makes you straighten your posture. Sending a smirk your way, Singh watches with amazement. 

“Our gwiyeoun hubae is still learning! So give them some time to learn the ropes.”

Mira hums, “ Yeah because this baby has a lot to learn.”

As casually as ever the choreographer kisses your cheek leaving a maroon stain that makes the new idol’s cheeks burn.

Singh faints and there’s a cut to the commercial. TV ratings skyrocket. The internet is blowing up. The Network makes an exception to cut commercials early to get a final winning snapshot of the Huntr/x group all gathering around their new member.

“Please accept our hubae! We’ve decided they’ll be living on in our souls and by our sides and in our songs forever.”

[eggs-can-draw]

My Post The Answer Descent Into Some Sort of Madness

[kisakunt]

BABY TRAP? LIKE THE MOVIE WITH THE TWINS?

description… you two are meant to be. sealed by fate, star crossed lovers. you’ll keep each other around however you need to.

warnings… dark content! baby trapping! noncon! obviously they’re being baby trapped they say something trying to stop it. consensual sex. full penetrative sex.

a word from the writer… i’ve had this in the drafts for aWHILE. it’s about time. do yall still read dc? i’ll never stop supplying… are we too woke now?!

TRAPS YOU

you’re hot under him, and he’s making that face he always makes right before he cums. it’s like repetition; eyes blanked out, mouth ajar but not fully open, brows furrowed like he’s desperate— and it’s scary.

“baby,” the word is cut in two with how fast he’s going, tease of pain as he hilts into your cervix with every thrust. “baby, you’re not wearing a condom.” your voice is uneasy, shaky from the movement and pleasure and build up. you think, in a way, the way you have sex is unfair. he gives you so much, orgasm after orgasm, rubbing your clit as he drills you to the point you go fucking stupid.

you feel safe with him. sex is sacred with him, no matter how sick it gets. but right now, with your calves pressed into his shoulders, his hands pushing your thighs impossibly back, you feel uneasy.

“baby, baby, pull out.” he gasps, sweat dripping down right near your eyes as a shaky groan escapes him.

“fuck,” a chaste kiss to your forehead, a shakiness in his movements, an unmatched rhythm as he gets closer and closer. “fuck. oh my, god. you feel so fucking good— so fuckin’ good.”

and so does he. but you’re scared.

“you’re gonna make such a good mommy, gonna be such a good mama. gonna— gonna give you my babies. gonna get you pregnant, gonna make you mine.”

“hey, wait,” your hands raise to his chest but he hits that angle that makes your eyes roll and they fall back. it feels so good you almost don’t care. “baby, baby, baby stop. baby, you gotta pull out.”

“you’re gonna be such a good mommy. gonna give you my kids. gonna give you my kids.” and it’s instant. it’s before you can even think— if you could anyway— it’s pressed so deep in you you betray yourself and cum, too.

he places his head to yours, kisses you greedy and whole, and whines into your mouth. it’s him, it’s real, it’s love. but— and you know this— it’s something so wrong.

“did you just…?” and before you can finish your question, he’s regaining his rhythm, fucking his cum into you with a half hard dick. it’s precise, it’s calculated, it’s intention.

he looks at you, eyes wide, breath heavy, and gives you a little grin. “gonna keep fucking you even when you’re pregnant, baby. gonna make sure i can keep you all to myself.”

GOJO, GETO, SUKUNA, YUJI

GETS TRAPPED

your legs hurt. you’ve been on top for all of thirty minutes, which you have no one to blame other than yourself. you love to edge him, love to get him so close and then take it all away from him. you think it gets him a little addicted.

but right now, as he squirms under you, losing every ounce of masculinity he’s ever had, something takes over you.

“gonna cum,” it’s breathless, short and sweet. “oh shit, i’m gonna cum.” you think he must think you’re edging him again. you think he’s expecting you to slow down, stop all together, pick up off him fully for ten or so seconds and then slam back down.

but you pick up the pace, grinding your hips into his, hitting his pelvic bone with your own as your hands grip at his pecs.

“wait, are you—” he falls apart under you, voice failing him, body failing him, hands only finding the strength to grip at your hips. “baby girl, i’m gonna cum.”

it’s melodic, tactile and articulate, a steady flow of bounces while your squelch fills the room.

“sweetheart, you gotta stop.” your right hand lifts from his chest to his mouth, shoving your fingers between his lips while he groans. he’s so easy to you, for you, because of you.

and then you feel it, milk it, relish in it— the way he comes undone at your touch, loses himself deep inside you. you don’t say a word about it, don’t think about it too much as you press your wet fingers to your stomach.

it’s a quiet giggle as reality washes over him. he looks cute, you can’t help but realize, panic and flushed under you. you’re sure of it then; he’s gonna be a sexy dad.

MEGUMI, NANAMI, CHOSO, TOJI

[khioneee]

tap out.

simon doesn’t expect anyone to tap him out. a ritual where loved ones step forward to release a soldier from duty, creating a chance to reconnect.

based on this.

simon stands in formation, a soldier among countless others, each bound by discipline, each carrying their own story beneath a stoic exterior.

in the unyielding line, he’s silent, gaze fixed forward, while around him, families reunite: sons embraced by tearful mothers, women lifting their children into their arms, couples lost in long-awaited kisses. joy and relief fill the air, carried on quiet laughter and murmured words of love.

but simon is an orphan now.

there’s no one to step forward for him, no one to break his stance. he watches it all, standing alone, feeling like a stranger in this crowd of reunions, this world of connections he never belonged to.

over the years, the military has stripped him down, rebuilt him into something hardened and unbreakable. this new self is his armor, a wall between him and the life he left behind.

the tap-out tradition is a formality he’s only ever heard about, something he’s watched from a distance but never expected for himself.

he stands motionless as soldiers around him are tapped out by loved ones. he watches quietly, feeling a distant sense of satisfaction for them, grateful that they have that in their lives.

maybe soap would tap him out after he’d seen to his own family.

no matter how many times simon tried to keep him at arm’s length, he’d come to accept that soap wasn’t leaving him behind. coerced into the friendship or not, soap was a friend. until soap has been tapped out, there’s no one in simon’s life to come pick him out.

still, simon knew he was alone in ways he couldn’t change. or so he believes.

then he feels it—a subtle shift in the air, hesitant footsteps halting just in front of him, carrying a weight he doesn’t understand. his breath catches, but he doesn’t move. he’s trained to hold his position, but something in him almost falters as he senses a presence just inches away. slowly, he lets his gaze shift, barely, enough to catch a silhouette he thought he’d left behind a lifetime ago.

it’s you.

you. his childhood best friend. the love of his life.

you. the only person he thought of when he escaped his broken home. you. the guilt that wracked him when he ran, unable to say goodbye after the night he barely escaped after being beat nearly to death. you. the only reason he wanted to be alive, and the person he hadn’t been able to look back for.

—you. you. you.

and now here you are, standing before him, eyes wide with hope and uncertainty, tears gathering at the corners like unsaid words held back for too long.

he doesn’t understand, not fully. he thought he’d locked that door, left that part of him sealed away. and yet, here you are, holding everything he thought he’d left behind.

you hesitate, the weight of the years pressing down between you, unsure if you’re allowed to do this. if you can reach out to him after all this time, to be the one who taps him out.

he senses your uncertainty, feels it as if it’s his own, and in that moment, he lets a flicker of vulnerability break through—a slight furrow in his brow, a subtle nod. silent permission.

and you know, in that instant, it’s okay.

with a trembling hand, you reach forward, closing the distance. your hand hovers over his shoulder for a heartbeat, the air between you heavy with everything left unsaid.

then, gently, you tap him out. a simple touch, light and fleeting, yet it breaks something open in both of you.

in an instant, simon moves. his arms come around you, his grip unyielding as he pulls you close, lifting you off the ground. the soldier falls away, and he’s just simon again, holding you as if you’re the only real thing in a world that’s constantly shifting.

his head lowers, his face buried in your shoulder, and he breathes you in, lets the walls he’s held up for years fall away.

‘you’re here,’ he murmurs, voice rough, thick with emotion he can’t hide anymore.

his hand cradles the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair, each touch soft, a silent promise. the weight of years and regret presses against him, but he holds you tighter, as if to make up for every moment he was gone.

you feel the warmth of his tears against your shoulder, silent and raw. he pulls you closer still, as if afraid to let go, his voice barely a whisper as he breathes, ‘i’m sorry, lovie. i’m so damn sorry. i’ll never leave you behind again. i promise.’

and in that moment, surrounded by echoes of lives left behind, he’s just simon again, the boy who belonged with you.

. ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ an. i know the tap-out tradition isn’t common in the uk and is usually done at the airforce but oh well. read part 2 here.

[kurooh]

when choso first learns about what facesitting really is, he brings it up after a make out session that’s left you both hot and heavy. he’s tugging on your hand, practically begging you to take a seat.

“i-i’m not sure,” you stutter, unsure. “what if you suffocate or something? i don’t wanna hurt you..”

the look he gives you is one of pure need and longing. “i don’t care, just sit baby. please.”

for good measure, choso gives you a little pout, breaking into giggles and a smile once you slip your panties and shorts off. your thighs tremble as you hover above his face, eyes squeezing shut at the heat of his breath against your sticky cunt.

“mmm, that’s no good,” he remarks, large hands rising to your hips and settling lightly. “i told you, sit down.” choso’s strong, yanking you down hard onto his face; you feel and hear his muffled moan when your pussy’s all over his whole face.

“choso!”

“so, so fucking good,” choso gasps against you, holding your squirming body in place as his tongue laps and laps at your sticky cunt.

beneath you, his body’s sweltering with heat, racing through every nerve like electricity while tight pressure builds in his cock. with a glance over your shoulder, you notice his hips rutting into the air as he searches for friction.

“cho,” you sob, so overwhelmed you actually feel tears building in your eyes, “i-i wanna suck you off, ‘s not fair—”

he easily lifts you and peers up at you from between your thighs, face flushed and shining with your slick. with a shaky finger, you nudge some of his hair away from his forehead.

“don’t want you to,” it’s painful to say, because he really does, but that’s simply a distraction for the both of you. “baby,” he murmurs gently, “i want you to focus on cumming for me, ‘s all, okay?”

you nod quietly, and the gesture is met with a mild slap to your ass. “okay, cho,” the moment the words leave your bitten lips, he’s pulling you back down and greedily drinking all of you in, taking whatever he can get.

choso’s ministrations encourage you to roll your hips against his face; a light bump of his nose to your clit has you crying out and grinding all over him. that’s right, he thinks, stars in his closed eyes. he wishes he could tell you to use him to get off, but he’d have to lift you up and he doesn’t want to even breathe.

unconsciously, he matches your pace, his hips rising into the air in synchrony with your own. one of your hands slips into his silky hair and tugs; he’s your anchor, keeping you somewhat steady although he’s the reason you can’t stop shaking.

“choso,” you wail loudly, angling your hips to let him take your clit between his lips and suck, “oh, i’m so close, ‘m gonna cum soon—”

from between your thighs, choso sees everything: the parting of your lips, the way your face crumbles in absolute pleasure, the brief moment of stillness as you fully fall over the edge.

it’s too much and not enough, but he cums too.

“c-cumming, choso,” is all you can muster, riding out your orgasm on his face and tongue while his hips buck wildly into the air.

the muffled moan you feel deep in your cunt makes you gasp, pulling away at the feeling of overstimulation, but he’s holding you tight. a look over your shoulder at the right moment, and you watch as his clothed cock explodes, gushing cum and soaking his boxers.

after all your squirming and pulling away, choso finally lets you go with crescent moon indents in your plush skin and a loud huff.

“i wasn’t done,” he heaves, skin smeared with your cum. it’s glossy and messy, but he won’t think about washing it off until you’ve cum at least three more times.

“but you came and everything, i—”

choso silences you by sealing his lips against yours, and you can briefly taste yourself— sweet, just like he’s always said.

“a few more times, please?”