cloudfxvrs

[cloudfxvrs]

Omg all the overstim in your sylus and raf works 😫🤤 makes me wonder if you have headcannons about how the other boys would be 🫣

can I make you lose your mind? (caleb, rafayel, sylus, xavier, zayne)

♱⋅── nearly 7k of the lads boys just losing their minds (and their control) when it comes to you. art by @/osk_purinnumee on x

♱⋅── WARNINGS: mdni, overstimulation, oral, pussy drunk boys, daddy kink (caleb), bicep choking (caleb), "just the tip" (sylus), size kink (sylus), cunnilingus (xavier), Lemurian heat (rafayel), orgasm denial (rafayel), breeding kink (rafayel), slight exhibisionism (zayne)

Caleb ♱⋅ ── the bully

How could Caleb deny you? 

How could he when you come to him crying big crocodile tears, sobbing how no matter what you do you can’t seem to cum, how you think you must be broken, how no one would ever want such a hard-to-please woman in their bed. 

As if he hasn’t spent years watching you, waiting for you, knowing damn well that the problem isn’t you.

So of course Caleb, being such a kind and thoughtful gege, has to prove you wrong, right?

He does. Over. And over. And over again. That is, until you’re crying in overstimulation, writhing away from his punishing thrusts, clawing against the sheets as you try to run from the pleasure-turned-pain.

Or, tried to.

“Nuh-uh, sweetheart. Where do you think you’re going?”

You’re running? No, no you can’t run away, not when he’s already spent his entire fucking life chasing you. 

Caleb’s voice is teasing, raspy and sweet, but there’s nothing playful about the way his Evol surges to life with a mere crook of his finger, dragging you back along the mattress and pinning you down as he takes his sweet time crawling back to you. 

Trapped, your breath hitches as you feel the weight of him settle over you, his intimidating frame caging you in, tracing featherlight kisses along your spine in such a stark contrast to how ruthlessly he was fucking you earlier. His hands roam, slow and deliberate, kneading your ass as he repositions himself behind you.

"If I let you go," he murmurs, "you promise not to run?"

Run? Why did you even want to run? You can’t remember now, not as you viciously nodding your head as much as is allowed under the control of his Evol, already arching your back into his touch as Caleb nips and marks your sticky inner thighs. 

“Good girl.” The pressure disappears. 

Immediately, Caleb replaces it, his entire body pressing you down before you can so much as take a proper breath. His arm snakes around your throat, flexing just enough to remind you who’s in control, the bulging, thick mass of his bicep choking you deliciously when you attempt to squirm or beg.

He’s got you in a headlock, the rest of his corded body pressing down atop you until your chest is squished to the mattress, ass pressed against Caleb’s pelvis, the combined pressure enough for you to be seeing stars. A drooling, overstimulated mess.

It doesn’t help that he’s practically panting like a dog in your ear, whining as he already begins thrusting himself back into your cunt, delirious moans of your name and filthy praises cooed right into your ear, words barely distinguishable with how hard he’s breathing. 

“Aww p-poor thing.” Caleb pants, voice wrecked, whiny with need as he grinds himself against you. His pace is already brutal, his thrusts sharp and unforgiving, every desperate snap of his hips forcing a cry from your throat as his grip tightens, choking you deliciously every time you so much as try to squirm.“Can you be good for me? Be my sweet little girl and cum for daddy.”

It shouldn’t be hot, Caleb, your gege, calling himself daddy, it shouldn’t have you sobbing out an unintelligible plea as another orgasm builds, seizing up your body in tight, aching waves. And yet here you are, loosing your fucking mind at it.

“Please,” you gasp, voice muffled as you sink your teeth into his bicep, embarrassed by the desperate sound of your own voice. “Please, daddy.”

For the first time in thirty minutes, you feel Caleb stop. 

He’s frozen entirely, dick hot and throbbing with need within you, each shaky breath hitting your ear as he pressed down closer, flattening, suffocating you into the mattress as you feel the growl come from his throat. You can hear the way his lips curl into a grin. 

“You wanna say that again, princess?”

Whining, you try and arch your back further, wiggling your hips up as you try and bait Caleb into continuing, into giving you that release that was only just out of reach. But he wasn’t having any of that bratty attitude tonight. 

“Behave.” Caleb’s arm tightens, and your vision swims. ”I asked you a question. You need daddy to—ah shit you tightened, dirty girl— fuck you nice and full, hmm? Fuck you stupid?” 

A fresh wave of humiliation burns down your spine, but it doesn't matter. You’ll say whatever he wants if it means he moves, if it means he chokes you more, if it means he finally gives you what you need one more time. 

“Yes, m’close, please daddy! Please—ah—let me cum one more time.” 

Caleb just snaps.

His grip tightens instinctively. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make you feel it, enough to make your breath stutter, your body jolt like the sweet little thing you are under his grasp. His entire frame tenses above you, muscles coiling so tightly it’s like he’s holding himself together with sheer willpower alone. But it’s already slipping.

"Fucking," His voice breaks, dissolving into a strangled groan as he buries his face against your neck, breathing you in like a man starved. "Fuck that shouldn’t be so hot, it really shouldn’t—"

Like you haven't already wrecked him beyond repair.

Caleb’s Evol comes back full force, pushing you prone against the mattress so you can’t feel anything but him, the arm around your throat dropping so his hand can press against your belly instead, pinning you down as he fucks into you so deep, so hard, you swear you can feel him in your lungs. His other hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back just enough for his lips to smash onto yours, sloppy, desperate, sucking at your bottom lip as the two of you jolt with each thrust. 

"You have no fucking idea," Caleb laughs against your lips, the words a feverish, choked-out confession, "how long I've wanted to do this to you."

It’s almost like he’s hammering that truth into you, each thrust hitting deeper, harder, the sound of skin on skin nearly drowned out by your own sobs of pleasure.

"Caleb—"

"Say it again," he demands, not even trying to keep his composure anymore. "Say it for me, princess. Say it like you mean it."

"Daddy—"

"Fuck."

Caleb really didn't need another kink, he really didn't need to imagine you calling him all these filthy things on top of every other sinful thing he's already imagined you doing. It must be divine punishment, because god was he into it.

Practically collapsing on top of you, Caleb's barely pulling out before grinding right back in as deep as he can get, like he can barely think to part from you even for a moment, like he needs to feel every twitch, every squeeze, every shudder of your overstimulated body. His hands roam wildly, equally greedy, kneading and groping every tender curve like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you, like he’s claiming you in ways he’s never let himself before. And fuck, you’re close. 

Caleb notices, of course he notices, nibbling the shell of your ear as the arm around your throat tightens, the other going right back to abusing your clit as you squirt all over him with a scream. 

“Aw that’s it, keep cumming sweet thing.” Caleb’s voice is the only thing grounding you, your entire body, your vision trembling as you begin to lose consciousness. The only thing you can think of is Caleb. Caleb, Caleb, Caleb!

You don’t even realize you’re screaming his name over and over again as you squirt down both of your thighs, making a mess against the already ruined sweat-slicked sheets beneath the two of you. You’re so damn messy. He loves it.

Convulsing, walls fluttering around him like you’re made for him, a sweet temptation Caleb is so laughably weak against as he follows, humping against you like a mad dog as his breath shatters into desperate, shaky moans of your name, spilling inside you with a force that has you sobbing with pleasure.

“Oh, princess,” he rasped, his tongue tracing over the tear-streaked path down your cheek before pressing a soft, almost mocking kiss to your jaw. “Shh, it’s alright, don’t cry. Your gege is here, your daddy will take good care of you, promise.”

Rafayel ♱⋅ ── the desperate

You’re going to have to call in sick for the week. 

Every year with the return of the tide, with the return of ebb-and-flow day, Rafayel becomes insatiable. You’ve barely been able to be able to escape Rafayel’s grasp for long enough to go to the bathroom, let alone escape enough from his insatiable fucking to walk well enough to fight. 

It’s never been this bad. And it’s all your fault. Being back in your arms after eight hundred years, finally remembering the way your voice sounds when it says his name and the way you fit oh so perfectly in his arms. It’s borderline painful to spend even a minute in your absence. His very body violently rejects the notion of it as spasms of violent heat and need drives him right back into your arms again and again and again. 

“Please, please let me fuck you. I can’t come like this, you know that.”

Rafayel’s voice is muffled against your thigh, breath hot as he presses a messy, open-mouthed kiss to your skin. His hands are clenched into the sheets beside him, trembling with the effort of keeping them off you, as you ordered. It’s the only rule you’ve given him tonight, and yet it’s breaking him.

"Rafayel," you warn, fingers buried between your thighs, working yourself open as his desperate, pleading gaze follows your every movement.

He whimpers, nodding frantically, his cock throbbing angrily where it rests against the mattress, one hand coming back to violently fist the swollen head as it leaks all over his palm and sheets.  "I know, I know," his voice cracks as he drags his hand around its base, rutting into his own palm like it’s not enough, like it hasn’t been enough for hours now. "But please I—fuck—I can’t."

“You can.” You spread your legs wider, letting him see, letting him watch your fingers disappear into your fluttering cunt with a slick, wet sound that has his jaw going slack, his own hips grind into the bed helplessly.  “I told you what would happen if you forgot to use a condom, again.”

Rafayel’s eyes plead up into yours, big fat tears slipping down his cheeks, his head shaking against your leg as he kisses the trembling flesh. "You don't understand," he sobs, nuzzling into the crook of your knee like he can smell the orgasm building inside you, like he can taste it on his tongue already. “I need- I need—”

"You need to learn control, Rafayel." 

Your voice is less strict than you’d like it to be, already embarrassingly close considering all the times you’ve come earlier today. And the way Rafayel’s looking up at you, begging, pleading, is really not helping. 

Tilting your hips slightly, you circle your clit in a way that makes your eyes roll back, making sure he sees the way your poor cunt flutters all empty, the way your body clenches, desperate for something more, something bigger.

Rafayel groans, his grip on himself tightening. Still, it’s useless, his Lemurian biology physically won’t let him cum unless it’s inside his pretty little mate, his cock swollen and weeping with how much he’s holding back, the pleasure that spikes through him now nothing but a cruel, agonizing echo of the real thing.

"My love," he chokes, head falling back against the mattress, his throat bobbing as he tries to breathe past the desperate hunger clawing at his insides. "My muse, my sweet darling, please. Taste you, touch you, anything, please!”

You hum, considering, rolling your hips against your own fingers as he moans, watching with wild, fevered eyes. "You wanna clean me up?"

"Yes."

The word is instant, sharp, like Rafayel’s been waiting for you to say it since the moment he first laid his hands on you tonight. Before you can even think of teasing or denying him any further, his grip snaps—both arms wrapping around your thighs, dragging you down the mattress in one swift, fluid motion.

"Rafayel—"

Too late.

His mouth is on you before you can protest, his tongue filthy as he sucks at your clit, licking up everything you’ve given yourself, drinking in the mess between your thighs like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. Slapping your own hands away, Rafayel pauses briefly to suck them clean before diving right back into the source, moaning into your cunt, making your body seize with another orgasm before you can even process the first.

"Fuck, fuck," Your hands fly to his hair, gripping hard, but it only makes him groan, rutting against the mattress, his own pleasure reigniting just from the taste of you. 

You try to pull away, squirming and kicking at Rafayel’s sides, his shoulders, but he doesn't even budge. His arms lock tight around your hips, keeping you there, keeping you spread for him as he eats you out like a man possessed. 

And then he's begging again, voice wrecked, slurred with delirious pleasure, licking at your clit between words as though he really can’t get enough.  “Please, please let me fuck you. I promise, mhm, promise I won’t cum inside you again.” 

Rafayel is still begging for permission even as he manhandles you beneath him, hesitantly parting with your cunt as he kisses up your stomach, sucking at one of your breasts as you feel the nudge of his cock against your entrance before you can even think. “Promise I’ll be good. I’ll be such a good boy.”

Fuck, you really are weak against him. 

Using the last of your strength, you flip the both of you around, grinding down against his cock as you feel it throb, violently jumping between your thighs, the sloppy, wet sound of each movement sending shivers down both your spines. Poor thing is already ruined, body extra sensitive due to his heat, cock swollen and leaking as it begs to be inside you. 

"You promise?" Your voice is a whisper, teasing, as you drag your soaked folds along the length of him, feeling him tremble beneath you.

Rafayel nods frantically, breath hitching, hands twitching at his sides like he wants to grab you, wants to force you down onto him, but he knows better. Knows he wouldn’t survive the punishment. His lips are red, glossy with your slick, parted around little choked-off whimpers as he fights against the desperate urge to rut up into you.

"I promise," he gasps,  "Please, I’ll be good, I swear, I’ll be so good for you.”

You hum, dragging your fingertips down his chest, nails scraping lightly over sweat-slicked skin, enjoying the way his breath shudders at the contact. The pain. "You say that, but you've already come inside me, what, three times now?" 

You rock your hips again, coating his cock in your arousal, watching the way his abs twitch with the effort of keeping still. Gods, he’s so pretty like this, neglected and crying underneath you, muscles strained and glistening with sweat and cum, watercolor eyes bleary as his tears collect on the mattress as dusky pink pearls. The same rosy shade of blush that burns across his cheeks, ears, and throbbing tip of his swollen cock. 

“That warrants punishment, don’t you think?”

Rafayel all but whines at that, head tilting back against the pillow, his throat bobbing as he tries to breathe, tries to hold on to the last fragile thread of control he has left. "I—I won't this time, I swear, I’ll be good, I just need you."

"You need me?" You lean down, pressing your lips just below his ear, letting your voice drop to a sinful whisper. "Or do you just need to fuck something, sweetheart?"

"You." Rafayel’s answer is immediate, desperate, his hands finally snapping up to grip your hips, fingertips digging into your flesh. "It’s always you. Only you, my mate."

The admission makes your stomach tighten, heat pooling low as you let yourself sink down, just enough for the swollen head of his cock to catch at your entrance. Rafayel jerks, eyes wide, mouth dropping open around a silent moan, his grip on you tightening like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

"Oh, fuck."

"You need me, you need your mate?" You tease, rolling your hips, letting him feel the wet heat of you without giving him what he really needs.

"Yes, please, please, please—"

And then, because you’re cruel, because you love seeing him like this, you lift yourself off him entirely.

Rafayel practically cries at that, and you let him plead, let him beg, until his whole body is shaking with the need to be inside you, until his voice is raw and wrecked from crying out your name. Then, finally, finally, you sink down, dropping the entirety of your weight onto him as you both moan at the sudden pressure as your ass smacks his pelvis with a lewd slap. 

Rafayel’s body aches up off the mattress, a wrecked, strangled moan tearing from his throat as his fingers dig into your hips hard enough to bruise. His head tilts back, chest heaving, eyes glassy and unfocused, dilated almost like a cat’s, as if the feeling of being inside you after so long is too much for his mind to comprehend.

"Fucking finally."

You barely have a moment to adjust before Rafayel thrusts.

Whatever fragile restraint he had is gone, obliterated the second your walls squeeze around him. His hips jerk up in a desperate, instinctual rut, shoving himself deeper, harder, until the thick length of him is buried to the hilt inside you, and then pulled all the way out before ramming back in again. You choke on a gasp, nails digging into his chest, but he doesn’t even seem to register the pain.

"More." Some inhumane warble distorts Rafayel’s voice, nails turning clawed and sharp as he thrusts up into you with more strength than any human should possess. “Perfect, perfect mate.”

Your head spins, the force of each snap of his hips making your whole body jolt. His desperation is relentless, dragging you closer to the edge far too fast, too intense, gripping onto his shoulders just to keep you from falling over as your thighs begin trembling once again. 

"Rafayel—Raf, slow down!"

"No," he whimpers, shaking his head wildly, hands tightening on your waist as if letting go isn’t an option. "No, please, sorry, need this." Rafayel’s voice breaks into a sort of trill, something like whalesong, eyes fluttering shut as he drives himself up into you, starved for more, cock throbbing desperately inside you. "Don’t leave me again, please.”

Your heart clenches. "I’m here," you whisper, leaning down, pressing your forehead to his as your body moves with his, rolling your hips as you try to stay in time with his brutal pace. "I’m right here, Rafayel."

He moans, high and broken, clutching you so tightly against him, feeling every inch of you pressed into his skin. His pace turns frantic, sloppy, body shaking beneath you as pleasure racks through him in violent waves. He’s close, but he won’t let himself fall over the edge alone.

"Come with me," he begs, his lips brushing over yours as he pleads for it. "Please.”

And you do.

The orgasm slams through you like a tidal wave, stealing every breath from your lungs as your entire body clenches around him. Rafayel keens, hips jerking wildly as he follows, his cock pulsing inside you as he fucks his cum deep inside you yet again, stuffing you full until you’re both shaking with overstimulation.

But it still doesn’t stop.

Rafayel can’t stop.

Even as his body trembles beneath you, even as his whimpers turn into sobs, he keeps moving, his hips rolling into you in slow, messy grinds. His cock twitches inside your still-clenching walls, sending violent aftershocks through you both.

"Mhh sorry," he moans, lips dragging down your throat, sucking bruises into your skin as if marking you will somehow keep you tethered to him. "Did it again, can’t help it. Pussy feels so nice, wants me too, always so desperate for me. Made to worship me."

You let out a wrecked, exhausted laugh, trying to lift yourself off of him, but his arms snap tight around your waist, keeping you anchored to him.

"No," he pleads, voice cracking, nuzzling into your neck as he breathes in your scent. "No, please, just—just a little more. You owe it to me for being so mean before."

Your head falls into the crook of his neck as yet another orgasm crashes through you, ripping a moan from your throat. Rafayel shudders, gasping against your skin, completely gone, his hips jerking helplessly, overstimulated beyond the point of caring. His body is moving on instinct now, neither of you fully conscious as he keeps moving on his own, chasing another high even as it breaks him.

"Fuck, Raf...”

"One more," he’s licking into your mouth, sucking your bottom lip, too tired and uncoordinated to properly kiss you. "One more, one more."

You don’t even know how many times you’ve both come. The world is a haze of heat and pleasure, of wet, messy grinds and deep, instinctual thrusts, of Rafayel’s loud, unashamed moans directly in your ear between kisses, of the desperate way he clings to you, unable to bear even a second, an inch of separation.

You ride him through another, and another, until your body finally gives out, completely limp against his chest, your limbs trembling too hard to keep yourself upright any longer. Rafayel follows soon after, his movements slowing, stuttering, until he’s finally, finally still beneath you, panting raggedly, body wracked with aftershocks.

The room is finally silent except for your heavy breathing, the two of you floating between sleep and reality for what seems like an eternity. 

"I think I might die," Rafayel croaks, voice hoarse.

You huff a weak, breathless laugh as you grumble into his shoulder. "Good, you stupid horny fish."

Sylus ♱⋅ ── the sweetheart (liar)

You’re going insane. 

Sylus promised he would finally fuck you, promised he’d finally give you what you’ve practically been begging him for all week. “Just the tip,” you’d beg, whining into his neck or suckling gently against his fingers in attempts to bait him, “Please, Sy, just the tip and I’ll stop asking.”

Technically speaking, he’s held up his end of the deal. After all, you’ve already cum four times. Not that it’s ever stopped you from wanting more. 

“What’s this? Are you even listening to me, sweetie?” Something jerks your head up, and you’re snapped out of your thoughts at the same time as Sylus grinds forward, humming as he pulls you closer on his lap, your thighs spread wide atop of his. “Tch, first all that whining and now you’re not even paying attention to me. I’m hurt, kitten.”

You shake your head as best you can with his thumb and forefinger still squishing your cheeks, tears from the sheer overstimulation blurring your vision as you bury your face into Sylus’s chest, chasing the mere friction. 

The fat head of his cock slips right back out of your cunt, tapping once, twice, on your swollen clit before grinding back in with a lewd pop. One inch, two, just enough for you to feel the delicious stretch of the tip of his cock, before Sylus lifts you up higher on his lap, pulling out as the torture begins all over again. 

You swear you can take more. It doesn’t matter than everytime Sylus lines up his cock it hits your bellybutton from the outside, it doesn’t matter that your hands can barely wrap around his base, it doesn’t matter that even when you suck him off your jaw throbs and he can barely thrust it in halfway without you gagging. 

“Sylus, please, please just—” you whine, rutting your hips down to no avail as his firm hands render you immobile. Watching you squirm with thinly veiled amusement. “Just fuck me already!” 

Your breath comes out in short, stuttered gasps, frustration bubbling over into pitiful little sobs against Sylus’s skin. He shushes you, rubbing slow, teasing circles into your hips as if he’s offering you comfort. But you know better. The bastard lives for this, the way your body trembles, how your cunt clenches down hard every time he pulls out, desperate for more than what he’s giving.

“Please.” A broken cry rips from your throat as he nudges forward again, pushing the tip back inside like he hasn’t already driven you half-mad. “I can take it. Ah, I swear, I can take it.” 

And yet, he’s still so fucking mean.

“Hmm,” Sylus’s voice drips with amusement, low and tinged with laughter as his lips graze the shell of your ear as though lost in thought. “No.”

You whine, digging your nails into Sylus’s back with more force than necessary as you hiss out curses, “Cruel, stubborn, self-assured asshole. I told you I can take it Syl—ah!”

Sylus pushes himself upward, roughly fucking his swollen tip against you, ramming that delicious spot within you as your curses dissolve into mindless babbles of his name, another orgasm ripping through you as you try and match Sylus’s rhythm by grinding yourself on the rest of his cock. 

“That’s it,” He hums, dragging his tongue along your pulse, relishing the way it hammers beneath his mouth.  He can feel how fast it beats, erratic and needy, the way your breath catches in your throat. “You’re gonna be good and take what I give you. Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re already fucked stupid. And I’ve barely even given you anything, kitten.”

It’s humiliating how right he is.

Your thighs tremble violently on either side of his, the ache in your muscles a dull, distant thing compared to the unbearable need twisting in your core. Desperate, you try to grind down, to force him deeper, to make him give you what you need. But Sylus just clicks his tongue, unimpressed, fingers digging into your hips as he holds you still, keeping you right where he wants you.

Sylus shifts back on the couch, pulling you down, controlling your movements with an infuriating ease, guiding you along the few inches he’s deemed fit to give you. It’s barely anything, nowhere near enough, but even that—just that slow, teasing roll of his hips—and the unbearable pressure of the thick, insistent tip of his cock is enough to make your back arch violently against him. 

“There we go,” he murmurs, cooing as he watches you, helpless and pliant in his lap. “No more complaining.”

A desperate nod. Another broken whine. 

You can feel it building again, the pressure coiling deep inside you, sharp and unbearable. Sobbing, you drop your head into Sylus’s shoulder, biting into the curve of his neck to muffle your cries, nails digging into his shoulders, chest, clawing violent red marks as Sylus shudders, eyes rolling back at the pain. Your legs are shaking too hard to do much of anything anymore, giving out as Sylus is the only thing left guiding you, dragging you toward yet another orgasm. 

Or rather, he would have. 

But you feel Sylus chuckle, the sound deep and sinful as it rumbles down his chest and into yours, and fear prickles along your spine. Then, with excruciating patience, he pulls out, leaving you empty all over again before tapping his throbbing cock against your clit—slow, deliberate, taunting.

“You wanted just the tip, sweetheart.” He grins, voice a low, cruel purr as he kisses your forehead. “So don’t start crying now that it’s all you’re getting.”

Xavier ♱⋅ ── the munch

“Then sit on my face.”

You stare, dumbfounded, as Xavier already begins leaning back against the cushions of your bed, those big, blue eyes begging up at you in ways that make it hard to breathe. 

Xavier’s hands tighten around your waist, fingers flexing like he’s barely restraining himself from yanking you down then and there. The heat of his breath ghosts over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, making your pulse stammer, making every inch of you ache with want.

“Xavier, I didn’t actually mean…”

“You want me to prove it, right? Then I’ll do what I can to serve you well.” He’s dead serious, you realize, still staring down at him in shock as Xavier frowns, sitting up just long enough to wrap his arms around your waist and haul you toward him, seating you on his chest as protests die in your throat. “Sit.”

Biting your lip, you still find yourself hesitating. What if you’re too heavy? Or if he doesn’t actually like it? You still have your underwear on, shouldn’t you take it off, or does he plan on eating you through it? What if—

"You're thinking too much again." His voice is firm, but gentle, cutting straight through your spiraling thoughts. Before you can get another word in, he lifts you up from the backs of your thighs, guiding you forward until your knees are bracketing his head and you're hovering just above his waiting mouth.

Xavier groans, this is already better than his dreams—just having you above him, so close, so warm—is enough to make him lose his damn mind. His hands are keeping you steady, and when he tilts his head back to look at you again, you almost drown in the sheer hunger in his gaze.

"Please," he murmurs, breathless, sucking and kissing into your thighs like he can't believe you're making him wait so long for something he so, so desperately needs. "I really don’t think I can wait much longer."

A shudder racks through you, thighs trembling as the heat between your legs grows unbearable. Xavier’s so serious, so patient, despite the raw hunger in his voice, despite the way his chest rises and falls in uneven pants beneath you. You’d have to be cruel to deny him. 

Slowly, you lower yourself the rest of the way, bracing your hands against the headboard as Xavier immediately pulls you the last few inches down, shoving his face up into you like he’s starving.

He might as well be because the first swipe of his tongue is so hot, so eager, that you nearly jerk away from the sudden pleasure. Not that Xavier would let you. His fingers dig into the marked-up plush of your thighs, keeping you right there as he groans into your pussy like you’re the best fucking thing he’s ever tasted.

“Wait—” Your voice is already breaking, a gasp caught in your throat as he licks into you again, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every second of it. He doesn’t even bother pulling your underwear aside, just mouths at the fabric, dampening it further, teasing you through the barrier until it sticks to your folds and you’re a whimpering mess, gripping the headboard so tightly your knuckles ache. 

Then he shifts, hooking a single finger under the waistband, dragging it aside just enough to give himself proper access.

The first real flick of Xavier’s tongue against your clit is devastating.

A high, broken moan rips from your throat as pleasure jolts up your spine, your thighs snapping shut around his head, suffocating him as Xavier feels like the happiest man in the world. Moaning into your cunt, Xavier pulls you down harder against his mouth like he wouldn’t mind drowning in your pleasure if it meant he got to taste you for just a few seconds longer.

You’re already cumming. Head falling backward, your lips part in a silent scream as Xavier’s tongue continues circling around your clit in that same, devastating rhythm, only letting go once you’ve come all over his face. But he doesn’t stop for long. 

His tongue flicks and curls and fucks into you with the kind of dedication that makes your vision blur, that makes your whole body burn as you become more and more sensitive. And when you grind down against his mouth, desperate and trembling, he just groans in approval, encouraging you to ride his face like you need this just as much as he does.

"That's it," Xavier mumbles between licks, inaudible between your wet, sinful noises. "Don't hold back. Use me."

It’s too much. It’s not enough.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling hard, but it only makes him grin against you, only makes him suck harder, making you gasp and sob as your thighs start to shake once more around his head. Still, he devours you, no teasing, no hesitation. Just raw, ravenous hunger. 

"Xavier—"

He hums in response, the vibrations sending another sharp wave of pleasure through you. Then he finally fucks his tongue deep into your cunt, curling against your walls as you clench around the hot muscle, Xavier’s nose grinding deliciously into your clit as his hands begin guiding you back and forth once your rhythm falls apart. 

You come hard, a choked cry ripping from your throat as your body locks up, pleasure searing through every nerve. Xavier doesn’t stop—doesn’t let you escape—licking and sucking you through your orgasm like he needs every drop, like he won’t be satisfied until you’re a writhing, overstimulated mess above him.

“Ah, Xavier, seriously,” you whine, every suck against your clit now tender and overstimulated as you try and squirm away to no avail. “Can’t, Xavier, can’t come again!”

Crying, you finally manage to wrestle his head out from underneath you—body still shaking, pleasure crackling under your skin like a live wire—realizing something that makes your stomach flip.

Xavier is panting, eyes half-lidded and hazy with bliss, hair fisted in your hands as the rest sticks to his forehead and pillow with sweat, letting you inch off of him as he finally breathes, heaving in deep breaths through swollen, wet lips. His whole body shudders beneath you, and when you shift, you feel it—the sticky warmth against his stomach, the evidence of his release.

He came. Just from eating you out.

And the worst part?

He’s still hard.

“One more time, please?”

Zayne ♱⋅ ── the addicted

Uh oh. 

This was bad. 

Zayne has always considered himself a beacon of self-control, having grown up under the concept of restraint and caution when it came to everything from his Evol to his life’s work as a surgeon. 

But even he could get addicted to having you spread out underneath him like this. 

It had started innocently. Zayne had forgotten his lunch today, probably due to his consecutive sleepless nights, thanks to being on call for not two or three but four surgeries this week. So when you delivered his lunch to his private office like any sweet girlfriend would do, it was only natural that you’d want to see if you could help him feel more relaxed and maybe help relieve the stress that was so clearly fogging up his mind. 

This, however, was not what you had in mind.

"Zayne, someone is going to hear us," you hiss, voice trembling, but make no move to stop him.

Zayne only hums, two fingers rubbing right up against your clit with expert precision even with your jeans still unzipped around your waist. His other hand shucks them just barely down your thigh, pressing his fingers right back in, curling against that spot that has your legs jerking against the polished wood of his desk before dragging his fingers out of you agonizingly slow. 

"You should’ve locked the door when you came in, then." He says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, leaning down, his breath hot against your ear. His free hand presses against your stomach, keeping you pinned as he fucks you open with his fingers, movements slow, deliberate. "You know I don’t like being interrupted."

Your head tilts back against the desk as your cries are muffles into your palm. "Zayne!"

"You were the one who wanted to help relieve my stress, weren’t you?" His voice is calm, collected, like he isn’t knuckle-deep inside you with his fingers glistening from how wet he’s made you already. "So be a good girl and take it."

Your breath stutters, thighs twitching as you clench around his fingers, already embarrassingly close with how well he knows your body, how pent up you’ve been after not having Zayne in over a week. Meanwhile, Zayne watches you come undone with sharp, almost clinical eyes, the hunger in them barely restrained, a predator biding his time.

"Mhm, close, I can’t—"

"Yes, you can," he cuts you off smoothly, pressing his fingers deeper, rubbing firm, steady circles over your clit. His expression doesn’t change, but his voice dips lower, smiling ever so slightly as he watches you. "Come for me."

You shudder violently, hands gripping the edges of the desk as another orgasm threatens to crash over you, your body far too weak to resist the relentless pleasure.

"Zayne," you cry out, hips jerking.

He clicks his tongue, allowing you to ride out your orgasm, but not before ripping his tie off, deft, scarred hands looping through the expensive silk before balling it up and pushing it into your open mouth. 

“What did I say about staying quiet?”

Your response is stifled around his tie, and Zayne feels his traitorous cock throb at the sound of your fucked out, inaudible voice, the very picture of debauchery with the slight drool smearing your lipstick, your eyes hazy with post-orgasm glow, your office button-down skewed across your breasts just enough so be can squeeze your breast right under your lacy bra. 

He wants to ruin you even more. 

Zayne has barely even zipped down his pants, holding up his own shirt as he bites it to keep his leaking cock from smearing pre-cum all over the cotton, before he’s desperately fucking his own fist with one hand, the other still circling your clit. 

When the sound of voices echo from right outside his office door. 

Your body jerks under him at the sudden noise, but Zayne doesn’t stop. If anything, he doubles down, pressing his slick fingers harder against your clit, wrenching another broken sob from your throat, muffled by the tie still shoved between your lips.

“Don’t you dare,” he whispers, voice low, dangerous. His free hand tightens around his cock, stroking faster, more desperate, more sloppy than you’ve ever seen him. The sight alone has your walls clenching down around nothing, a fresh wave of arousal making a mess of his desk and the scattered papers on top. 

The voices outside the door grow louder, and Zayne’s entire body tenses. Not with fear. Not with hesitation. But something that he thinks might ruin him forever. 

“I should stop,” he murmurs, though his fingers never leave you, still rubbing circles into your overstimulated clit, dragging you higher, forcing you to ride that unbearable edge of pleasure. His teeth clench, brows furrowed as his pace on his own cock stutters, his restraint cracking with every second that passes. “I really should stop.”

You whimper, body trembling beneath him, a plea barely audible around the silk in your mouth.

“But you love this, don’t you?” His voice drops, rasping, guttural. “You love making me a mess, love knowing that the only thing keeping us from getting caught is how good you are for me.”

Zayne never talks like this, but god, now you wish he’d never stop. His mere voice is enough to send you over the edge once again. Your moan is strangled, raw, hips lifting weakly into his touch despite the overstimulation.

The door handle rattles.

Zayne snaps, one arm shooting out as ice surrounds the handle, spears of it crawling over the wooden frame of the door, across the tiled floor as he loses control. 

He barely spares it a glance. Pulling the tie from your mouth, Zayne immediately replaces it with his lips, swallowing your gasp as he shoves two fingers back inside you, curling them deep, his strokes ruthless, relentless. His other hand leaves his cock only long enough to drag you forward, forcing your legs around his waist, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance as he moans into your mouth.

"Zayne, your Evol—"

"Don’t worry about me," he hums, kissing you one more time before his gaze drops, watching where the two of you meet. “You’ve done more than enough for me. You’ve always been enough for me.” And he pushes in inch by inch, stretching you open around his thick length, your body still pulsing and greedy from your last orgasm.

Zayne exhales sharply, his forehead pressing against yours as he stills, buried inside you. His fingers flex against your waist, grounding himself, keeping himself from completely unraveling.

 “That’s it, breathe,” he murmurs, voice back to the soft, low tone you know so well, the urgency melting into something reverent. He presses a kiss to your cheek, then another to your jaw, as if to soothe you through the stretch. “You’re perfect.”

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging gently as you grind upward, coaxing him into going faster, into actually fucking you. 

Zayne groans, his control fraying as he clutches you tighter, nose brushing against yours. “You're going to be the death of me,” he whispers, lips ghosting yours in a kiss, the intimacy making your heart clench.

You can still hear muffled voices beyond the door, a stark reminder of the risk, of how dangerously close you are to being caught. But it only makes you cling to him tighter, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you whisper, “Then let me take care of you, Doctor.”

[cloudfxvrs]

thinking about subby!caleb who gets so whiny when you’re hands are wrapped around him. as you straddle his bare torso, fully clothed, you stroke him slowly while keeping your grip firm. facing away from him just to be a tease. you watch his legs struggle to stay put, the same way his hands squeeze at your waist when you do the same to him. roaming his hands all over you like he doesn’t know where to put them, desperate for contact.

his whimpers are endless, tangled with breathy pleas that spur you on. that familiar wetness soaking your panties as you fight the urge to grind yourself onto his abdomen.

he’s just loud and talkative — shameless. “please, let me cum, pips.” he begs, trembling beneath you, his breaths shallow. “please.”

his tip leaks with precum, flushed red like it was begging too. he could so easily pull you off him, flip you over and fuck you senseless — he’s much stronger than you. but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love when you were in charge. praise him and call him a good boy and you’ll have him wrapped around your finger.

“you wanna cum, hm?” you ask, barely finishing the sentence before he’s already blurting a string of “yesyesyes”.

you take that as the initiative to quicken your pace, hands moving faster, grip tightening like you’re really milking him. his hold on your waist tightens as if he was bracing himself. sobs turn into loud moans and before you know it he’s bucking up into your hold, thick ropes of cum spilling all over your fingers.

his chest heaves beneath you as he catches his breath, slowly calming down. your strokes ease, making sure he’s left empty. you glance over your shoulder, biting your lip as you catch sight of his fucked out state — flushed cheeks, lips swollen from being trapped between his teeth. he meets your gaze with half lidded eyes, a look that clearly says ‘i need more’.

“please… let me touch you.” he pleads, desperate “i’ve been a good boy.”

꩜ masterlist !

🏷️ @ashirelle @littledarlingsthings @wynxoxo @dalmoonchi @kiyadeleine @sayoko-ou @sylusexual @rafascutie @colonelpantysniffer @oakimiuy @lyricelli join taglist here!

[cloudfxvrs]

SAJA BOYS x HUNTR/X’S ASSISTANT!READER

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Romance? He’s grinning. Loving every second.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks.” you mutter, not looking up.

Not forgetting that you fucking HATE his guts!!

“You’re welcome.”

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

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

Baby snorts quietly, still scrolling.

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

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

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

You don’t look at him. “Fuck off.”

“Alrighty.”

He doesn’t move though.

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

You remember the first meet.

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

Then, a bold whistle from behind you.

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

Drumroll…

🥁🥁🥁

Romance.

Yes indeed, the fucker whistled.

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

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

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

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

You glared at him. You hated him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then there was the time you tried to run.

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

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

“Hm?”

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

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

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

Slice. Slice. Another piece of peach.

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

You finish slicing the peach. Set the knife down.

Romance steals another piece, grinning at you over it.

Mystery growls under his breath at the whole thing.

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

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

You remember that time you bit Romance.

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

D-O-N-E.

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

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

And the fucker?

The fuck?

He winked at you.

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

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

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

You tried to stand your ground once.

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

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

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

Asshole.

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

You’d fought. Kicked. Swore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You bite into a piece of peach now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Mystery.

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

But no.

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

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

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

“Don’t.”

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

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

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

“Can I use the sauna?” you ask.

No one says anything for half a beat.

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

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

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

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

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

“Abby—let go—!”

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

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

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

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

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

Baby is absolutely checking out your ass.

Not even trying to hide it.

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

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

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

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

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

“Abby!”

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

Liar.

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

You tug.

He doesn’t budge.

“Abby.” you hiss.

But it’s useless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, you hate them.

God, they’re fucking hilarious.

God, you hate that you almost laughed too.

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

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

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

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

peace.

And then.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

You freeze. Eyes snap to the glass door.

Abby and Romance.

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

And god help you,

they’re in nothing but towels.

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

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

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

Tap. Tap. Tap.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They’re having the time of their lives.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is much better.” Abby says cheerfully.

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

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

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

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

Then, these assholes giggle.

Giggle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck them.

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

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

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

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

And it’s not subtle.

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

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

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

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

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

It’s that you feel different.

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

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

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

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

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

Something that isn’t just about keeping entertained.

You’re fun. You’re alive.

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

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

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

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

So you stand.

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

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

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

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

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

You squirm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart lurches.

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

Right there, under you.

A huge fucking boner.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then you hit the living room.

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

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

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

“Not now, Jinu.”

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

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

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

“Mystery—”

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

He tries again.

“Mystery or whatever your fucking name is!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because why would it be?

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

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

The room’s quiet now. Blessedly quiet.

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

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

Will you ever get out of here?

…Maybe.

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

Do the girls miss you?

Yes.

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

Do the boys actually like you as a person?

Yes.

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

Is Romance always trying to get in your pants?

Yes.

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

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

Yes.

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

Is Baby secretly rooting for you?

Absolutely so fucking yes.

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

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

Indeed.

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

Does Jinu really care?

Yeah.

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

Are you actually safe here?

No.

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

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

…Maybe.

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

Will you ever stop hoping for a chance to escape?

No.

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

You’re getting out.

Somedays

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

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

Because damn your empathy.

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

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

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

They probably don’t know any better anymore.

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

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

When was the last time they did human shit?

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

Had a snowball fight.

Built a fort and camped out in it.

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

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

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

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

God, when was the last time they had that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because you don’t blame them. Not really.

They’re lonely.

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

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

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

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

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

But still.

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

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

And goddamn it, you understand.

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

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

So yeah.

Fuck your empathy.

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

[cloudfxvrs]

Submissive Attempts

headcanon: submissive! saja boys x fem! reader

summary: how would it go if you tried being dom for one night? let’s just say not all of them will be as obedient as you think. warnings: mdni/18+, language, degradation, sub/dom relationships, roleplay, cunnilingus, sex toys, biting, scratching, masochism, mommy kink, creampies

Jinu ! - girl pleaser

he’s not inclined to your demand of being submissive— but hey, he’ll be a switch with you. he doesn’t mind being under you, being edged, or even scratched. as long as it pleases his play pretend princess, then he’s fine with it.

“If you keep eating me like that,” you gasp, pulling his hair, “I might just reward you.

You kept a leash on Jinu’s neck, tugging it harder. It took three days of begging for him to accept your wishes, and another two days to convince him that you needed a leash. The black leather cinched at his neck, sure to leave marks.

His tongue lapped at your wet pussy, his hot breath warming you up for the main course. Roleplay wasn’t new to you guys either, but god, did you want to see him under you for once. He was just like a puppy, slurping and nipping at your soft flesh. Every now and then he’d peer up at you from your mound, humming for approval.

He looked adorable between your thighs. Jinu made it look like it was only natural for him to kneel before you and keep his hands to himself. Your black corset made it difficult to breathe, but you wouldn’t allow him the pleasure to view your gorgeous body just yet.

“Stop,” you gasp, your head thrown back on your chair, “Baby, if you don’t stop—“

The heat in your lower belly almost unravels as you feel him disobediently slip his fingers inside you. Your leathered thighs squeezed his head as you snap down at him.

And he’s definitely into it as he curls his fingers inside you;

“What? Are you really going to deprive your puppy of its milk?”

Romance ! - ultimate sub

he’s probably the only one in the group willing to be a sub. he loves women, especially women who treat him roughly. degrade him and edge him, and you might just get the most beautiful orgasmic face he will ever make and you will ever see.

“You’re doing soo good, Romeo,” you purr, rolling your hips on his stiff dick, “Can you hold for five more minutes?”

You had challenged him tonight to be cockwarmed for thirty minutes. If he lasted? You’d give him head anytime for a week. If he didn’t? Well, let’s just say he’d have to let you be dom for week. It was mostly a benefit to you, since that meant you could experiment more with your demon boyfriend.

It fulfilled a sense of dominance in you. Afterall, has a human ever made a demon crumble and beg to cum? Not ever.

His stress to resist fucking up into you made his demonic features pulse in and out of his persona. His fangs bit into the gag you had in his mouth, but you loved the way his teary eyes looked at you with such lustful adoration. You trailed your nails across his dewy skin, leaving raised marks as cooed at him.

“Does my little Romeo want me to move on his fat cock?” you sneer, bucking your hips, “Because I can if you want— but that means you lose. And I don’t think you want to lose, do you?”

You know your words worked because you felt him getting harder inside you. You held back a moan, swearing that his tip might as well kiss your cervix.

“You’re driving me crazy,” you hiss, lifting yourself off his cock and slamming back down, “I’m doing this for me— so I hope you love being used.”

And lovingly, he moaned.

Mystery ! - the trickster

it is very, VERY rare for him to ever be a sub. he has a big ego and won’t let that go, no matter how much he loves you. he’s not the one meant to be at the bottom, you are. but in a day where he feels like messing with you? he’ll definitely lead you on.

“Oh my—“

You had nearly came two minutes in the roleplay, making you upset at your lover. On his face, you grinded yourself as a way to punish his awfully good skill.

“You can’t just pull that tongue out of nowhere! I’m the one in charge!” you hiss, ignoring the golden flash beneath his silver locks, “So you better be a good b—“

“Ow!”

Fangs sink into your soft flesh in your inner thigh, giving you a split second of weakness. With this, you were instantly flipped on your back, and roughly so. Your hands were collected by a large lilac hand, and your legs pulled up by the other. Pain pulses in your thighs as you wince angrily;

“You’re not playing fair! You let—“

“Oh darling,” he says, so nonchalant as he looks pitifully at you, “I would never let you.”

Your frown grows into a scowl as you writhe in his hold, cursing and swearing his name like a wild cat. But you forget; the real hard dom was never you, it was him.

And he’s always happy to prove it to you.

Mystery dug his claws into your calves, making you yelp. And you loved it, because it definitely showed in your weeping cunt. A gutteral growl leaves his purple lips as he presses himself against you;

“Don’t make me punish you, little one.”

Abs ! - mister hesitant

he’s very mid about being sub, especially because he has an image to keep up. but on days where he’s drunk on your love? then maybe. that is, if you can keep a burly demon under control.

“Please, please, please!”

You’re on your back as you keep his leash tightly wrapped around your knuckles. Abs looked absolutely divine; his wrists was held back by cuffs and his face was a glistening shine of sweat. He looked like he’d cum in you any second, that is, if he didn’t have a cock ring stopping him from doing so.

The man was absolutely feral over you, snapping his hips forward with each eager grunt. Pulling at the pretty collar on his neck, you tease him;

“Please what? You have to use your words puppy.”

Your legs were draped over his strong shoulders; thigh bands making the fat of your thighs protrude hotly against his cheeks. The demons tongue practically lolls out, his pink drool dripping on your folded tummy.

“Please, mommy —fuck— let me cum in you.”

Grinning, you let go of his leash, taking him with open arms;

“Go right ahead, I’m all yours.”

He didn’t even have to use his hands to make an utter mess of you.

Baby ! - the absolute worst

he won’t let you. dare mention it and he’ll make sure you’re creaming on his cock with your lips smeared of his seed. baby don’t play with that. at. all.

“Now, what did I say before about this topic?”

Your hair was fisted by Baby behind you, who had you arched and dumb on his cock. You thought simply because he looked happy today, that you might have a chance to convince him to be your sub.

But boy, were you wrong.

Next thing you know, you’re bare and bonded to the bed like a lewd bdsm film. Spanked, choked, and edged until you were the begging mess you wanted him to be. Of course, which will never happen.

His seed leaked slowly from your puffy pink folds, but he took care of it easily with his thumb.

“I’m sowwy,” you choke, but your words are sloppy with the gag, “I wa’ jus’ pwayin’”

A sharp slap sounded through the red room, making you sob as your clit pulsed. Everything hurt, but it felt so good. Baby cooed at you, massaging your inner walls again as his thumb gently pressed against your sensitive numb.

He was an utterly dynamic man, and he could easily see through your behavior. You felt your climax coming through each squishy and wet sound your pussy made, but you couldn’t even feel it after as he slipped his hands away immediately.

The demon flicked his fingers, humming contently as he licked the white beads that remained in the crevices of his hand.

“I’ll leave you here until my show finishes,” he said, unfazed by your whines, “Let this be the time you get to reflect on your words, pretty.”

Let’s just say, you did it again the next week.

work and rights belong to me, laurel.

[cloudfxvrs]

At The Same! Damn! Time!

abby x reader x jinu self indulgent smut hehe

mdni!!!

tags: thréesome (obv), p in v, oral (m receiving), porn without plot, close friend dynamic between the two of them, abby degrades you, jinu is still a loser <3,

"don't stop moving, doll," abby groans from behind you, big hands groping the fat of your ass as he watches you grind on his cock. it's hypnotic how it slides out a little each time only to disappear again between your sopping folds. he spreads the skin gently, the new sensation making you whine around jinu's length.

he winces at the vibration in your sweet mouth, hips bucking reflexively. his hands held the back of your head in a vice-like grip, seemingly more to steady himself than to help you take him down your throat.

you met his eyes through your lashes, decorated with tears from trying to supress your gag reflex. you teased the back of his tip with your tongue, lust dripping from your gaze. he hissed through clenched teeth, need seeping through his stare. he but his lip, canines pinching into the flesh as his he threw his head back, rolling his hips into your mouth and making you take him deeper.

your hips moved languidly on abby's girth all the while, spelling their names and gently bouncing, but admittedly jinu's reactions had you a little... distracted. your slick walls fluttered around abby as your hips slowed, focus shifting to jinu's pleasure.

you gagged on jinu's thick cock, abby's sudden thrust jolting your body forward.

"s-shit baby- don' do that," jinu groaned, hand sliding through your hair. "throat squeezin' the shit outta me enough already."

which, of course, makes abby thrust into you harder, hips snapping up to meet yours and sending you lurching forward onto jinu's dick. it reaches new depths in your throat, your lips wrapped tight around the hilt and nose pushed into the soft skin of his groin.

"look at that, taking me so well," abby croons, thumb prying open your folds to see himself sink into you. with his other hand, he dips a finger in, your arousal connecting you two with strings when he pulls away. addressing jinu, he tries and fails to hide the groan in his voice. "should see how she's sucking me in. so sloppy too, made a mess on me like a fucking slut."

jinu tucks lose strands of hair behind your ear, hands traveling to your shoulders as you suck harder, tongue writing your name in playful licks on the underside of his throbbing length.

"nngh- hard to imagine it feels better than her -hah- mouth," he whines as you pull him out, suckling on his tip. you blink up at him innocently as you litter his shaft with sloppy kisses, tongue tracing his veins in thick stripes. he moans, pretty and broken, and you swear you can feel abby smirking behind you.

hands back on your ass, he slams your hips into his relentless thrusts, your hold on jinu's cock tightening as you try to stabilize yourself.

"fuck her throat. slutty girl's gonna make me cum soon-" he groans through gritted teeth. "fuck- that feels so good- won't be able to -hah- keep doin' what she's been doin',"

jinu looks like he's been hit by a train.

can he really do that??

fingers catch under your chin as he lifts your face to meet your eyes. your eyes are glossy, lips and chin messy with his precum and your own saliva.

you look so fucked out.

and so beautiful.

"'s that okay?" he asks, no, pleads– he sees how ruined you are but he needs this. he's afraid to hurt you but his cock aches, balls heavy and desperate for release.

you give a shy nod, straightening your throat and opening your mouth, tongue stuck out, inviting him in.

"shitttt," he groans, tapping the tip on your tongue before sliding his length in steadily. the rough snap of abby's hips makes it harder for you to not gag, and it's getting harder to stay in control of your own body as you get absolutely ruined from both ends.

jinu's pace gets rough quickly, hips frantically rutting into your face, balls smacking against your slick chin. you're being pushed brutally back and forth between the two men, back sinking deeper into an arch and your legs shaking as you approach your own high.

a sharp smack! resounds in the room, a familiar stinging spreading like fireworks across your ass. abby gropes the skin after, his squeezing soothing yet rough, his thrusts getting sloppy. heavy balls hit against your sticky clit, wet noises mingling with heated breath and labored moans.

jinu's pace as he fucks your throat pushes you down further onto abby's length. you feel so full, so utterly fucked out. the overstimulation and pretty moans from behind you are enough to send you hurtling into your own high, vision going dark as you shake, walls spasming around abby.

"fuckkkk-kk-k," he groans, burying his fat cock in you to the hilt, giving small thrusts to try to reach impossible depths in your poor, weeping pussy. his balls tighten as he cums, hard, heavy cock twitching inside you.

he shoots thick ropes in you, hands grabbing desperately at your skin. his eyes roll back, head thrown against the pillow. his hips slow, but he keeps fucking you, making sure you milk him good and take every drop.

jinu doesn't even see the two of you coming undone together, his own head tilted up with eyes screwed shut and brows knitted tight in pleasure. his jaw slacks, gentle whines slipping from his throat.

you swallow around him absentmindedly, still recovering from your orgasm. he spills into your throat, hot load coating your throat. abby's hand weaves into your hair, pulling your head back from jinu's cock as he spurts one last time, mouth releasing from his tip with a lewd pop!

you fall back on his chest, jinu laying beside you two in the bed, all three of you panting. rolling you onto your side, abby whispers into your ear.

"catch your breath, baby, round two is coming soon,"

[cloudfxvrs]

Imagine Being Isekai'ed into KPOP DEMON HUNTERS.

The plane was late. The girls weren’t here and Bobby was freaking out. The crowd gathered outside the arena was rising into a crescendo, in raw anticipation. The tension was palpable, it was as if the energy was fizzling from the fans into the very ground of the stadium.

‘Everyone ready? Lets look alive!’ The man with medium length hair spun around, pointing at everyone, checking on progress. Bobby, the manager of Huntr/x frantically flitted around, looking absolutely frazzled.

‘Okay, ready? Yeah, we’re ready. But where are the girls?’ He frowned, turning around to Y/N. The girl in return, shrugged, her eyes glued into her notebook. She was writing a new song. One just in case Huntr/x decided to do another comeback early. The girl group was known for being random with their timings. This meant it make Y/N's job that much harder.

‘Check their location.' She sighed before looking up.

'Although, it isn't exactly unlike them to be late.’ Y/N shrugged, flicking back through her little black notebook. She wrinkled her nose, slightly concerned for the group's well being.

Y/N knew their little secret, for she was their trump card. You see, Y/N was the ghost writer. The one who made sure all the songs went viral, ensuring that the honmoon remained steadfast in its hold. It wasn't an easy job seeing as the songs had to chart well and actually be enjoyable. However, the girls did have great voices so that made it slightly easier.

‘It shows their plane veering off course?’ Bobby flipped his phone around, shoving it above Y/N’s notebook.

The girl looked up and gave a sly grin.

‘Start the music, they’ll arrive.’

Like comets raining down, the three managed to make it onto stage, half way through the song. Y/N looked out into the cheering crowd from behind the curtains, narrowing her eyes at the thin lines rippling with light. Tonight’s concert would be enough. Just enough to keep the shield up. It would hold until their next comeback after this concert. Right?

--

‘Did we just see gold?’ 

‘Ah! I can’t believe we’re doing it!’

‘It’s so exciting!’

The three cheered, shaking each other in sheer joy.

‘This means we can release our song soon and turn the honmoon gold!’ Rumi cheered.

Y/N gritted her teeth, slightly resentful. It was her song. She was the one who wrote it, slaved over it for weeks to make sure it sounded perfect for the girls.

‘It’s finally time!’ Mira exclaimed

‘Wooo!’ Rumi cheered until her voice suddenly cracked, her cheer suddenly muted. ‘Whoa that was weird.’

‘Do you need some water?’ Y/N mumbled, as the elevator doors opened.

‘Did someone say water?’ Bobby grinned, before gesturing frantically and calling out. ‘Water. Now!’

Y/N sighed, walking out from behind the group, watching how they all were showered in praise. Praise that never seemed to be shared with Y/N. It wasn't as if she was asking for all the credit, however it would be nice to hear a thank you once in a while.

‘What a way to end the world tour! And that guy in the finale who exploded confetti?’

‘Amazing special effects.’ Y/N cut in briskly, side eyeing Mira who returned her glance with a slightly panicked one.

‘Yeah it was super chill. Amazing song writing by the way Y/N.’ He added almost as a sidenote.

Y/N sighed and began to zone out. She didn’t need to be there anymore. It was time to go home whilst the girls decided what to do. Y/N had finished writing Golden two weeks before and Huntr/x had already recorded the song, meaning Y/N could rest. It would be a long time since Y/N was able to go home and get a full nights rest instead of being in the studio, mixing and mastering a new song for Huntr/x.

She trudged her way onto the dark streets where her own penthouse apartment resided. It was one of the perks for owning royalty on all the songs of Huntr/x. At least Y/N had been smart enough to invest in the shares of the company with her money. At this rate? She wouldn’t have to work for the next fifty years if she wanted to. Her retirement was set.

The streetlamps left much to the imagination, however, Y/N was too tired to be wary. The streets here were safe. It was a rich neighbourhood anyways. 

Y/N’s phone pinged.

Golden was being released in an hour.

Well that wasn't the plan. But then, did the girls ever tell her of any plans they had? She gritted her teeth, looking at the notification on her phone.

Was it wrong for her to feel slightly resentful? She could see the lines. She could see what the other girls could see, but she couldn’t harness the spiritual power to create a weapon. Y/N was an anomaly. A failure of a hunter.

She scrolled the comments, phone tightening in her hand as she read through each one. The praise was lavished onto the girls. Mira, Zoey and Rumi. Nothing mentioned her, the song writer, the producer. The reason Huntr/x even had songs to sing.

‘You’re looking awfully tense.’ A smooth, plush, voice noted.

Y/N whipped around, brandishing her phone into the shadows.

‘Who’s there?’ She snarled, eyes darting between the flickering streetlights.

‘Don’t be afraid. This won’t hurt one bit.’ Another voice snickered.

…

A pause.

Then another.

Then ten seconds had passed.

‘Um, what?’ The first voice sounded confused.

‘What am I supposed to be waiting for?’ Y/N shifted her posture, now feeling more confident.

‘Your soul. We were meant to take your soul.’ A deep voice muttered, as five boys stalked out of the shadows separately.

‘What the f-’

‘Who are you?’ The one with black hair, took point, walking towards her with a hungry glint.

‘My mother taught me not to tell my name to strangers.’ She snipped back, studying the new figures walking towards her. They were otherworldly in beauty. Jaws chiselled, faces unblemished and fair.

A flash of purple, jagged lines across skin.

‘You’re demons.’ Y/N deadpanned, facepalming. ‘No wonder you’re all so damn pretty.’

The one with pink long hair and heart shaped bangs snickered, sidling up to her. ‘You think we’re pretty?’ He gave a sickly sweet grin, reaching toward her chin.

‘Don’t get ahead of yourself asshat.’ Y/N slapped away his hand. ‘I’m actually not into pretty boys so don’t even try.’ Her body was tight, poised to jump at any time. Even if she couldn't harness the spirit power, she could fight just as well as the rest of the hunters.

‘Maybe she's more into guys like me.’ The one on her left spoke up, shifting into her line of sight.

Y/N’s eyes traced over the muscled man, her eyes lingering on his revealed abdomen as he stretched.

‘Huh, gym rats. Also not my type.’ She shook her head, turning to leave. ‘I’m not into conventionally attractive men. I don’t share.’ 

‘Who says you have to share?’ 

Y/N jumped slightly, surprised by the man with black hair standing now in front of her.

‘We know you write all of Huntr/x’s songs. It’s how they're so popular.’ The one with purple hair, wrapped an arm around Y/N's shoulder.

‘Don’t touch me.’ She brushed him off, backing away into a wall.

‘Yeah?’ The wall replied.

‘Huh?’ Y/N turned around, only to be met by a wall of solid muscle. ‘OKAY STOP.’ She whisper-yelled. ‘What do you guys want from me? I don’t carry cash.’

'What? We don' want your money.' The one with blue hair chuckled, leaning on a lamp post.

'We want something more valuable.' The tallest said, flicking away his pink bangs.

'And that is?' Y/N narrowed her eyes, suspicious of the group of strange yet alluring men.

‘Write for us. We need a debut single in three days.’ The one who looked like the leader gave a wicked smile.

‘What makes you think I would do that?’ Y/N crossed her arms, tilting her head in a question.

‘Because we can give you what you want. Fame, recognition, power.’ 

'Who says-' Y/N began before falling to her knees, clutching her head.

Unbeknownst to her, the boys hurriedly gathered around her as she fell, the closest catching her before she collapsed on her side.

The outside world was suddenly cut off from Y/N's mind. It was silent.

And then it began.

Pain.

Throbbing pain as visions filled her head. It was searing, as if a hot knife were being twisted. Visions, sounds, memories. This wasn’t her world. This was the world of…

KPOP DEMON HUNTERS.

[cloudfxvrs]

imagine Rumi being the sole reason readers really small side ramen shop is still going cause she goes there to watch her cook, talk and leave a fat tip and reader always tries to hand her the tip back but Rumi doesn’t let her

AWW WAIT 😭😭 THIS IS SO CUTE SHUT UP

It's just a humble little place you've set up but somehow you've got THE leader of THE TOP 1 KPOP BAND visiting religiously. She probably started off with like a disguise and everything bc honestly she was just looking for a quiet and discreet place to eat. But she happened upon your place and next thing you know you have Rumi as a fucking Regular, taking off her disguise and everything to make herself comfortable. Actually baffling

But it's not even like you can complain!! She certainly doesn't 😜 she likes seeing you cook and talking to you like she's a normal person instead of a K-Pop idol or. Yk. A demon. She wants to know how your day's been, how's the business going, what your plans are, etc!! And she even talks to you about her own day, which tbf you start off starstruck but you probably get used to it after a while when realising that Oh!! Celebrities have problems too!! She just like me fr!!!!!! She always looks forward to coming to your shop and spending hours in there just talking while she takes her time with eating your ramen which is FUCKING BEAUTIFUL as is

Every time she insists to pay you and give you the biggest dolla tips, it's just TOO MUCH for what you're doing but every time you try to return it she's always like "oh NO sorry I gtg Bobby's calling me there's a crisis and I need to leave now OKAY BYE THANK YOU FOR THE FOOD" and off she goes 😭

Until post-movie, she might actually GATEKEEP your place bc it's her own sort of sanctuary when she just wants to escape for a bit. While Mira and Zoey are off to the batthouse, she slinks into your shop and does it all over again. Post-movie, she'll take the others down here and expose them to what's kept her sane all these years and it ends up becoming a secret spot for the three of them, with you and your hospitality at its centre

And when they all leave you too much money as a tip you're flabberghasted and they refuse to take it back before pulling the Rumi move😭😭😭😭😭😭 but they'll be back every time oh bless them

(They might also make fun of Rumi a lot for staring at your face while you work LMFAO)

[cloudfxvrs]

rawrawraw

Ms. Manager

Saja boys x Fem! Reader

Summary: The Saja boys can't help but be enamored by their dumb and pretty manager.

Warning: Possessive! Saja boys, tw.death (not reader or any of the saja boys), dumb! reader, oblivious! reader, crybaby? Reader, a bit suggestive I guess?, might be incorrect grammar and spellings, probably more.

Author's note: Bear in mind that this is my first post here on tumblr, pretty new to this because I usually post my stories on Wattpad. I could write how they met or another part of this but I need some ideas, only if you end up liking this one though. I did not proofread this lol

[Last name] [Your name], a name most popular uttered by many people, a name who could turn many heads at the direction with just at a simple mutter, a name that could break a cold person's exterior, and lastly, a name that could easily steal the hearts of the upcoming Korean boy group the Saja boys.

The Saja boys were currently at their own dance rehearsals because they can't exactly steal fans if they don't look great, sing great and dance great, would they?

Jinu lets out an exasperated sigh as he stared at the group of demons, glaring daggers at the other four demons who just can't get the dance right. "We're meant to jump in sinc at this part." He said, crossing his arms as Baby Saja rolls his eyes from behind Abby, thinking their leader wouldn't be able to see. "Why you!-" the dark haired male was about to stomp over when the door opened.

The five males immediately straightened their postures at the sight of her.

[Your name].

Their very own manager.

Standing there with a bright smile plastered on your pretty face as you held the lyrics of their song Soda pop in hand given to you by Jinu.

"Ms. Manager, good to see you." Abby gives out a little wave, shirt riding up to show a bit of his skin and toned body. "You're late. Again."

It wasn't a secret to the five of them that you were admittedly... not that great of a manager, even though they don't have much experience of how a manager actually acts but they just don't want to get rid of you. Not when you looked at them so prettily that they can't help but want more of you, definitely not when you smelled so sweet that they just want to get closer to you just to smell you, and definitely not when you touch them as if they were made of glass (and they weren't, but to them, you clearly are).

Before they met you, you were in need of a job and well... you had a very unforgettable first meeting with them that they just have to keep you to themselves.

"I'm sorry, the landlord upped the expense of the rent." You said, giving them an apologetic look as you handed them each a plastic bottle of cold water. "And he wouldn't exactly leave me alone..." You added, unbeknown of the eyes glowing yellow at the mention of the bastard who wouldn't leave you alone when you turned around to fix the papers.

Romance hums, stepping closer to you. "We did offer that you could stay with us," He voiced, placing a hand on your waist.

You look up at the male who stared down at you, a dreamy look on his face as he tried his hardest not to brush his hand on your soft-looking cheek. "Like I said, there aren't exactly many rooms in the house you reside in that could let me stay there." You pointed out.

It was true, the house they stayed in or more likely, stolen from people before they got their souls, only had five bedrooms, fitting for the five of them.

The heart shaped haired male had his eyes trail over to your plump lips and before he could quip something else, he was suddenly bumped to the side by their muscular member who couldn't help but replace the hand on your waist with his own, pulling you closer to his bigger frame. "Just stay with us." He whispers, voice deep.

You can't help but feel your heart racing at his words but put some distance by leaning back, "Abby, that's not very nice. You just hurt Romance." You frowned as you turn to the other male who immediately changed his glare pointed to Abby to a happy smile as he saw you turn to him.

"He's a big boy, he can handle a little bump." Abby rolls his eyes as Baby snickers.

Before you could tell him to apologize, Jinu walks over to you. "They're right, you know. You wouldn't have to deal with your landlord if you just stayed with us, I can just give you my room and sleep on the living room." He offers, hoping he could change your mind and stay with them instead.

"It's fine, guys really. Thanks for the offer but I really can't, you already appointed me as your manager even when I don't have much experience..." You murmured before feeling Abby's hand on your waist tighten. "It's just some old guy anyway, it's not that big of a deal." You try to reassure, lips turned up in the pretty smile that softened their exteriors.

"Do you want me to take care of him for you?" Everyone turned to Mystery who uttered those words, the rest grumbled, clearly wanting to be the one to say that to you.

You look confused by what he meant but shook your head, "No, it's alright, you don't have to."

"I'd do anything for you," The male mumble as he watched you refuse their offers some more, clearly not having heard what he mumbled.

Baby slumps into your back making you let out a cute little yelp at the added weight, "You can just sleep with me." He said, lips brushing over the back of your neck causing you to shiver.

The others immediately disproved of that.

They watched as their little Ms. Manager gave them a wave goodbye before walking off towards the bus stop.

It was silent for a bit before Baby saja finally says, "We're getting rid of him, right?"

The next day, you slammed the door open, breathing shakily as the Saja boys turned to you in concern. You were trying to catch your breath, practically running here to inform them of the news that had been delivered to you by a fellow neighbour.

"You alright, pretty girl?" Romance was the first to ask as Jinu stopped the music.

Their concern was a facade of course. They know what you were gonna say, practically smelled your scent miles away as you moved to get to them. They held back smirks of their own as they stared down at your form.

"H-he... the landlord- he's dead," You said, eyes wide and clearly still in shock. "One of my neighbours saw dismembered bodies and- oh gosh... it sounded so frightening."

The whimpers you let out highened their growing arousal as they stared at you, eyes darkening as they fought the urge to take you right then and there.

"Wh-what if that happens to me-" You were tearing up now.

Oh, those tears. Those beautiful tears.

Baby licks his lower lip at the sight, the desire to lick them with his tongue growing. He can't help but wonder what you tasted.

Jinu walks up to you immediately, in faux concern, placing a hand on you shoulder to comfort you. "We're very sad to here that..." He said with a frown and furrowed his eyebrows. "But you shouldn't worry about that happening to you, Ms. Manager."

You look up at him and the dark haired male praised himself for not pouncing on you at the sight. Sniffling, you asked. "Wh-what?"

He gave you a small yet reassuring smile, "If you stay with us, you'd never get hurt by that awful killer on the loose."

"We'll be sad without our pretty little manager to tend to our needs..." Abby adds on.

"We need you, I need you." Mystery whispers.

Your body was shaking, overwhelmed by everything that's happening.

However, if this little thing didn't change your mind yet... then they'd just have to take you, with or without your consent. You're theirs after all.

You were just their pretty, dumb manager and they'd eliminate anyone who would stand in the way of their love.

[cloudfxvrs]

Abby Headcanons!

Kpop demon hunters, n$fw/suggestive, so mdni! mostly gender neutral but a few fem reader pieces here and there

a/n: i am such a freak for abby this man has me so inspired i need him kashkjfh... let's pretend that he wouldn't get like completely canceled for some of the more... public aspects of this

possessive man. if you go out in public together he ALWAYSSSS keeps a broad hand on your lower back. sometimes he'll stand behind you and hold you against him with two hands on your hips.

he's such a tease too. i mean we see how he acts with his abs for his fans but if you two are involved?? he does not hold back. will walk around the apartment shirtless constantly, band of his boxers peeking from his sweats. will stretch and manspread and lay back on things like crazy because he knows how his v-line draws your eyes to his bulge

he's also the type to keep a towel on for a little while after his shower, a smaller one laid across his head or around his neck. desperately wants you to notice the water dripping down him and catch you staring. will for sure tease you about it if he does.

touchy touchy touchy touchy man. will stand with his arm propped on your shoulder, put his legs on your lap on the couch, pull you into his lap, lay on your shoulder and groan about how bored he is, wrap a hand around your waist to pull you wherever he wants to go, and if you're shorter than him he'll put his chin on your head in conversations with others, hugging you from behind. he just loves the contact and having something to lean on

he drives you CRAZYYY how he looks at you, especially from between your legs. bro has a lethal stare and loves how you squirm under his gaze. he'll hold your hips close to his face with a firm grip, knowing you aren't intending to wriggle away from him

i just know he's such a smooth talker. he'd curl long fingers inside of you while flirting as if he hasn't already gotten you into his bed

loves shower sex. i can't explain why but i just know this is the truth

i feel like he would bite you occasionally when he cums. definitely is into marking aside from that, though. he likes leaving hickeys on you, but LOVESSSS when you give him hickeys. would for sure wear an almost completely unbuttoned top the next day to show off your scratches on his chest and the bruises littered across his neck

he's so cocky. feeds on the questions and looks he gets from the other saja boys when they see your artwork. he's a secret exhibitionist... honestly, he might not even realize it himself.

probably steals panties let's be honest... i just know he has a crazy sex drive and fs takes care of it himself pretty often. he likes to surprise you with it sometimes, shamelessly leaving his cum in them on top of your laundry hamper.

finally, he's more obsessed with you then he is with himself lol. he knows he looks good but he also knows he'll never look better than when you're standing next to him. he's so whipped and so horny for you.

[cloudfxvrs]

needthat

♥ Abby / Abs SFW and NSFW headcanons

A/n: I have Kpop demon hunters brainrot and I just needed to write something. Still not 100% sure how to write the Saja boys, so I decided to start with the one where I have a bit more of a grasp of how I would like his character to be. Headcanons are split into SFW and NSFW — SFW is first, then NSFW is labeled below, Hope you guys enjoy <3

He knows he’s hot. Abby doesn’t just think people are looking, he knows it. Shirt slightly unbuttoned, sweeping his hair effortlessly out of his face, always posing a little when he walks past reflective surfaces.

But when you compliment him? He still gets a tiny bit bashful, like “Yeah? You like this look?” with a smug little grin and ears just slightly pink.

Flirts with you like it’s just in his blood. Constantly teasing you but like in a playful way. “You just gonna keep staring at me, or are you gonna kiss me already?”

He makes you laugh and swoon the worst combo because now you’re blushing and giggling at the same time.

Surprisingly domestic. He likes doing “normal” couple things like grocery shopping together, picking out snacks for movie night, and agruing with you (lightheartitly obviously) about which love interest in a movie is the better one

So clingy but in the most endearing way.

You try to get up to grab something, and he just tugs you back into his lap. “Nope. You live here now.” You roll your eyes, but he’s warm and you almost always end up staying.

Always touching you. He has zero sense of personal space when it comes to you, hand holding when walking, arm around your shoulders, hand on your thigh while watching TV.

If you’re near, he’s touching. Period.

Will literally hype you up in public. You show up to an event or just walk into a room looking cute, and he’s so loud about it. “Damn, who let you out looking like that?” wolf whistle fully knowing people are watching.

He’s proud, and he wants everyone to know he’s yours and you're his.

Sleepy snuggler. Once he’s horizontal, he’s immediately draping himself over you like a weighted blanket.

“You’re so warm,” he mumbles, face buried in your neck. He always falls asleep faster when you're there says your presence is “soothing for him”

Cooks only one thing well but insists on making it constantly. It’s something like spicy ramen or grilled cheese and he’ll go, “Trust me, I’m a chef.” Even if it tastes bad how could you ever say no to him.

NSFW

Size kink? Oh absolutely.

Abby is so smug about how easily he can pick you up, manhandle you, carry you around like it’s nothing. He’ll tease you about it constantly “Look at you, so small and squishy. I could ruin you, y'know.

“Is this okay?” always. He may be cocky, but he never forgets to check in. And somehow hearing “You good, babe?” in his deep, slightly growly voice while he’s already got you breathless? Instant fluster.

Loves when you take control. Acts like he’s the one in charge but goes feral when you push him down and ride him instead.

He’ll grip your hips, panting, all “You’re killin’ me, sweetheart,” while secretly loving every second of it.

Lowkey possessive, but in a sexy way. Marks you up just enough to be visible, loves when you wear his beanie or show up to a concert wearing his oversized hoodie. “You’re mine. Let everyone see.”

Aftercare king. No matter how hot things get, he’s doting af afterward. Carries you to the bath, lets you wear one of his tank tops (he’s obsessed seeing you like this), and spoons you so close like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

Constantly murmurs stuff like “You’re everything to me, y'know that?” into your skin while tracing little circles on your back.

Divider by: @diviniyae

[cloudfxvrs]

how do you even become a child of divorce TWICE???

[cloudfxvrs]

like damn bro whatever you say

Singing Buddy

one-shot (PART 2) : baby saja x rapper! fem! reader

summary: (part 2 of original, could be read as a standalone. NO ASKING FOR PART 3. please.) Even with these months of success, in your home you’re nothing but his imprisoned song-bird. Try escaping, maybe? warnings: language, implied fear-based relationship, sexual references

“Lil’ Loli’ out!”

You’re out of breath as you flaunt your styled hair out of the way. Sweat slips from your brow to your chin, making you huff.

This was your dream. This crowd of people cheering you in your victorious rap battle with your merch in their hands. But it was simply not in the way you dreamed.

Swallowing hard, you bowed to your opponent, who muttered incoherent appreciation for the battle invitation. You could care less. Your leather shorts stuck to your skin, and your beaded top felt like it could tear any second now. You had to finish soon, and all this long cheering you would’ve loved months ago was something you dreaded.

“I’m sorry, I have to go.” you apologize, tossing the mic onto your opponent’s hands, “Ciao, chico!”

It felt like a marathon running behind stage, shouting for your crew to pack up and order you a taxi. He could be home any minute now, and if you’re not there... You could already imagine his disappointment, because both of you knew he can take all you have away with just a snap.

And you really, really, didn’t want that.

“Where’s my taxi—“

“I’ll be your taxi, so relax,” a familiar voice said, making you rigid as you snap your head to the side.

There stood your precious obsession, with keys jangling on the tip of his fingers. Baby had a sly look in his blue eyes, making you laugh nervously as you pretend to act surprised.

“Babe! You’re here…?” you point at the crew, faking a smile, “I was just gonna leave— like right now! So you didn’t have—“

“Truly, sweetheart?” he asked, his thin lips melting to a scowl, “Why do you feel like you need to accept every damn battle request? Especially dressed like that.”

“I didn’t! It was my manager—“ you began,

He clicked his tongue, motioning with his other finger for you to move forward. You had to, obediently and quietly.

You don’t dare test him. You know what he is and what he planned to do with Huntrix. There wasn’t anything you’d be able to do anyway, so might as well live your life as long as you could. It made your heart wrench.

Weeks after you discovered his identity, you were fearful of him. Your once-idol turned to a forever-nightmare. He tried comforting you at night, promising to make sure you’ll be safe. But you never took his words into consideration. You didn’t love him anymore. Not ever and never more.

But the thing is, he loves you. He was willing to do whatever it took to make you love him. It wasn’t so hard for you to fawn over him the first time, so why are so difficult for him now? Baby loves you, adores you, and aches to learn every inch of your being.

You, a beautiful rapper and delight to his ears. If only you knew how much it hurts for him to resist chaining your soul to his spot in hell. You won’t behave here? He’ll be sure to give you a taste of below. Just a slight flick of your head, and instantly you’re pooled in scorching land and horrid laughter. But he makes sure to pull you right back, cooing in your ear as he runs his fingers through your hair;

As long as I’m here for you, you’ll never have to see that place again. Alright, sweetheart?

And it works like charm. You’re sobbing for mercy, begging for him to stop. It would all end the moment you say the three magic words. And he will give you everything.

I love you.

“So if I get rid of your manager, you’ll stop wearing that? Simple enough.”

“No, no, no!” you whispered, looking to the side, “You can’t just do that out here—“

“Oh, so you’re letting me then?” he grins, squishing your cheeks, “Remember, all this is because of me, so.”

He leans in, his lips ghosting over your trembling ones,

“Don’t take me for granted.”

“I know,” you sigh, your face sinking into his hand, “I know.”

Baby was supposedly out for a few days. Within that time frame you were able to get a burner phone and reach out to an old ex. Yes, definitely not a good decision, but you didn’t have anyone else.

Pacing around your room, you listened for a pickup. This obviously wasn’t right, and you were sure that even if you were on the other side of the globe, the demon would find you.

It was already nightfall and you were on your 56th buzzing call, with no reply. You made a canopy with chairs and blankets in the living room, and fortunately, gave you a peace of mind. Like when you were a child.

You stare at your soggy dinner, the poor Froot Loops soaked in milk because you couldn’t find hunger in you. Right when you were about to give up and pretend you never tried to escape, the phone reached a beep.

“Hello?”

Frantically, you reached for the phone, nearly dropping it as you eagerly replied, “Oh my god, David? This is y/n—“

A scoff was heard on the other side of the call, “Let me guess, you want my offer now?”

You recall the offer he gave you years ago. Back then you were only starting the rapping career, but he was never fond of it. Women don’t rap. But you loved him so much then. He was the only one who gave you security and stuffed you full of dick anytime you wanted.

But when you moved cities across for your new career, it simply wasn’t the same. David gave you a proposal, Drop rap and marry me. Blinded by your career, you never took the offer and forgot about him completely.

Yet now you find yourself ready to accept it and leave this hellhole you dug.

“Yeah!” you say excitedly, “I was so stupid you see—“

“Offers been gone babygirl,” he moaned, making you pause, “You were stupid and I was smart. Got a new bitch and you’re stuck with a lousy job. Never thought of you— fuck you’re so good— again.”

“But,” your heart shattered, did you still really hold those feelings now?

“You told me that you’d marry me.” “Yeah so? It’s been three years, don’t tell me you still miss me?” David chuckled, “Look, I’ll still fuck you anytime but I’m not in it for the feelings. You’re on your own.”

You dropped the phone— every hope and every dream crushed. No one would save you. He continued to moan on the phone, slurring your name and saying every bad thing he hated about you in the first place.

“Didn’t work, hm?”

You didn’t even have to turn to know it was Baby. He somehow made it earlier than expected, and even in your poorly made tent. Your eyes remained on the phone, watching David’s number pulse on the screen.

“No.” you whisper, more to yourself, “I can’t. He—“

Your teary eyes met Baby’s glaring ones, and you choke out a mere reply, “No one loves me. Not you and not him—“

Claws dug right into your flesh, pulling your face close to the demon’s snarling one. But you didn’t even fear him anymore. Your body felt like a ragdoll, tired and dead.

“I don’t love you? Me? Oh love, please,” he hissed, his tongue snaking to lick up your fallen tears, “I’m obsessed with you. So much so, that I’ll take care of this human for you. So don’t you worry,”

“Look at me.”

Your droopy eyes look up, lashes wet, “What.”

“Just tell me the magic words and your every wish is my command.”

You glanced back at the phone, the moans more audible than before. You definitely did try to escape, maybe with more steps than needed. You could’ve just ran out or hitched a hike with someone. Yet at the end of the day, you’ll always be at the claws of him.

“Will you still be my singing buddy even after I betrayed you like this?” you murmur, “‘Cause I wouldn’t if I were you.”

Baby chuckled, his deep voice rattling your bones as he promised, “Don’t even worry your pretty little soul. Just tell me what I want to hear.”

So at the dead of night, where you were a heap of a teary and hopeless mess, you crumbled up whatever was left of your sanity:

“I love you Baby, so please,” your hand slides onto his palm, fitting snug onto his as you squeeze him, “Kill him.”

“That’s a good girl,” he pressed a gentle kiss on your dewy forehead as he rubbed your lower back, “I was going to anyway.”

His finger lifted your chin as he grinned, “After all, I know you can moan much prettier than that.”

The demon lifted the phone to your ear, forcing you to hold it as he pushed your legs slowly apart. His fingers trailed dangerously close to your heat, making your breath hitch as you shoot your eyes at him;

“Over the phone?”

”Of course, how else is he supposed to hear what he missed?”

“I never—“ you began, but jolted the minute his lips kissed your thigh. Your body moved for pleasure, finally giving in to the man it desired since day one. “Just sing for me.” And that you did.

work and rights belong to me, laurel.

[cloudfxvrs]

i just busted

Bound to Them

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 1: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰

𝐒𝐚𝐣𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔: 𝒀𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆. 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚’𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈. 𝑵𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚’𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒊𝒓𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒎 𝒚𝒐𝒖. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕’𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔.𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒗𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒅. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓𝒔.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝑶𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆, 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒍/𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒅, 𝑬𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒑𝒉𝒚𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 (𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒔), 𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒔, 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒅𝒚𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒄𝒔, 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 (18+)

𝑨/𝑵: 𝑯𝒆𝒚 𝒈𝒖𝒚𝒔 💋 𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏! 𝑮𝒐𝒕 𝒂 𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒆 𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒂, 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒅𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅, 𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒎𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒂𝒋𝒂 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒔? 𝑻𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒆. 𝑰 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖. 😈 𝑵𝒐𝒘 𝒃𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒍𝒆 𝒖𝒑. 𝑰𝒕’𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒆𝒓—𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓—𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆.

—𝑬𝒎𝒓𝒚𝒔 🖤

w/c: 4k

comments and reblogs would be appreciated!

The sleek glass doors shut behind you with a soft hiss.

Click.

You inhale—shallow, sharp. Straighten your blouse. Will your hands to stop shaking. The receptionist gives you a polite nod and disappears.

Then it’s just you… and the door.

You can feel the weight of it. Of what’s behind it. 

The silence. The pressure.

You already know who’s waiting.

The Saja Boys.

Five idols who rose from nowhere and took the industry by storm.

Unreachable. 

Unstoppable. 

Too perfect to be human.

You take a breath as the door opens.

You don’t feel the tension—not until the door clicks shut and five pairs of eyes lock onto you, all at once.

And suddenly, you feel it.

Something shifts

When she walked in, they didn’t just notice her.

They felt her.

And it nearly destroyed their restraint.

The office is quiet. White walls. Cold lights. Sanitized stillness.

But the moment your foot crosses the threshold—

Five heads turn.

Five bodies go still.

And then— The scent hits them.

You.

Soft. Warm. Theirs.

The bond snaps tight.

Jinu is the first to react.

His spine straightened so fast it felt like lightning shot through it. And for a moment—just one trembling moment—Jinu forgot who he was supposed to be. Forgot the polished idol image, the perfect self-control, the hundreds of rules he’d buried himself beneath.

Because you were standing in front of him.

Soft. Radiant. Meant for him.

Theirs.

“No one moves,” he murmurs to the others, voice like velvet over a blade. “Do not shift. Don’t even breathe.”

Not when you were standing there like that.

Not when his control was already this close to snapping.

His knuckles were white. His thighs were tense under the table. And his eyes—those burning, gold-flickering eyes—never left you.

Beside him, Abby twitches. His nostrils flare. The trademark smirk is gone, replaced by something raw. Animal.

His nostrils flare once.

And then—

He purrs.

A deep, rumbling growl laced with longing and hunger. “Shit,” he breathes, gaze locked to your lips like he wants to feel every sound you’ve ever made. “That smell. It’s her. It’s really her.”

The bond is hitting too fast. Too hard.

Romance’s leg drops from the couch, his body tensing like a current just jolted through him. He blinks once—slowly. Then his tongue swipes over his bottom lip, slow and deliberate, like he’s already savoring something forbidden.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, head tipping back for a breath that does nothing to cool him down. “I knew she’d be gorgeous,” he murmurs, voice low and reverent. His hand drags down the front of his slacks, subtly adjusting himself with a hiss through his teeth, his jaw tight.

“But this…” His eyes rake down your body.

“Fuck,” he exhales, jaw tight. His head drops back for a second, and when he looks at you again, his eyes are dark and glazed.

“She’s too much,” he murmurs, voice strained. “One look and I’m already—”

He doesn’t finish.

Doesn’t need to.

The way his fingers linger at his waistband says enough.

“Why do I want to devour her?”

Then his gaze drops. Scans the curve of your thighs, the flutter of your breath, the tremble you’re trying so hard to hide—and he purrs too.

Quieter, but deeper.

Hungrier.

Baby, the one who never shows anything, suddenly pushes up from his seat, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed like he’s fighting something inside himself. 

“Because she’s ours,” he growls. “She’s made of everything we were promised. And we’re not letting her go.”

And Mystery?

Mystery doesn’t rise. He jerks like he’s been burned.

His gaze? Locked on your throat like it’s the only thing in the world he wants to touch, taste, mark.

He breathes in once.

Then purrs.

A long, rumbling, possessive purr that vibrates the air.

“Mate,” he croaks. “Mine.”

“Ours,” Jinu snaps. Quiet. Taut with restraint. His canines peek behind his lips.

You stop mid-step, caught in their collective stare.

Your pulse flutters. Your breath trembles.

Still, you try.

“Um… hello,” you begin softly, forcing a smile. Your fingers tighten on your resume. “My name is—”

But the second your voice breaks the silence—

The sound shatters them.

They all inhale. Hard.

Abby curses under his breath, dragging a hand through his hair. “Oh, fuck. She sounds even better than I imagined.”

You blink. Your cheeks flush.

You’re not sure why it feels like the room is getting smaller, like their stares are pressing against your skin. “I—I’m here for the manager position,” you manage to say, voice wobbling slightly.

Romance lets out a choked moan and grips the back of the couch so hard his knuckles bleach white, clawing into the leather.

“She sounds like heaven,” he groans.” Jinu—fuck—say something. Do something. Before I put her on my lap and—”

“Shut up,” Jinu snaps, golden eyes never leaving you. “Not now. Not yet.”

His voice cracks like a whip, but it’s the only thing keeping Romance from losing it.

Romance doesn’t apologize. Doesn’t pretend to be sorry.

He just licks his lips again, chest heaving, pupils blown wide with hunger.

And his claws?

They’re still embedded in the couch.

Because if they weren’t…

They’d be on you.

His eyes never leave you. Not even for a second.

Mystery makes a sound from deep in his chest—barely a growl, more like a purr, dark and rumbling. His claws are dug into the leather of the armrest, his knuckles pale. The tension in his jaw is brutal.

Baby looks calm, but the white grip of his hand on the table says otherwise. His shoulders are too still. His nostrils flare with every breath you take, like your scent is coating his lungs.

He looks starved.

And Jinu…

Jinu doesn’t move. But his fingers flex—once—on the table. His claws extend, clicking softly against the wood.

They don't blink.

They don't breathe.

The air is suffocating—saturated with your scent, your voice, the unmistakable tension of a bond that has already begun wrapping around all of you.

You shift slightly, heart stuttering.

Their stares don’t just watch.

They burn.

“She’s shaking already,” Abby murmurs with a slow, hungry grin. “Cute.”

You flinch.

Your fingers tighten around your resume. Your shoulders twitch. Your knees feel like they might give.

You didn't mean to react.

But gods—you did.

You’re flushed. Too warm. Your breath catches in your throat and you swear you can feel every pair of eyes on your skin.

Romance inhales slowly like he’s savoring your scent. “She likes it,” he says softly. “She’s trembling because of us.”

Abby hums behind him. “Of course she does.” His voice drops to a near-growl. “She feels the pull. Even if she doesn’t understand it yet—her body does.”

Your soul knows.

Your pulse flutters so hard it aches.

You open your mouth to speak, desperate to ground yourself. “I—um, I’m here for the—”

You can’t finish. Your voice fails.

And that’s when one of the staff—smirking, oblivious—laughs from the back of the room.

“Seriously? She’s already shaking just from being looked at? She won’t last a day around idols if she’s this weak.”

You didn’t mean to react. 

Just a twitch. Shoulders tightening. Eyes dropping for a second.

And they noticed it.

The world… snaps.

The change is immediate. Violent. Silent.

Jinu doesn’t speak.

He turns.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

His golden gaze slices the air—sharp, frozen, lethal.

Romance’s smirk drops.

His head tilts. His eyes go cold.

“He thinks he’s funny,” Romance says. The venom is quiet—but unmistakable. “That’s cute.”

Mystery growls.

Actually growls. A low, animalistic sound that vibrates in his chest and makes the walls seem too thin. He doesn't blink. He stares the man down like a predator tracking prey.

And for a second—just a flash—you thought you saw fangs.

What… what are they?

The temperature in the room drops. The lights seem too bright now. The air too thin.

Abby doesn’t even try to hide it. He stands, rolling his shoulders with a crack. The heat that pours off him makes the room feel too small.

“You’re lucky she’s still here,” he says, teeth bared in a grin that’s all hunger and threat. “We’re already holding back more than you deserve.”

Baby doesn’t say much. But the way he moves from leaning to standing—slowly, deliberately—makes the message clear.

Back off.

You can't move. You can barely breathe.

Their fury isn’t just protective—it’s obsessive.

It’s possessive in the way fire consumes everything it touches.

You blink—your whole body trembling now—and the worst part?

You love it.

Jinu tilts his head slightly, the gold in his eyes catching the light just right.

“Everyone out,” he says.

Silence.

“This is a closed meeting now,” Jinu continues, voice low, firm. Final. “You weren’t invited to speak. And you won’t again.”

The manager hesitates. Opens his mouth. Closes it.

The others around him begin to shuffle out—no one looking back. Not one of them dares meet your eyes. Or theirs.

And the second the door clicks shut—

Silence returns.

But now… it's heavier. Hotter.

You don’t move. You don’t even breathe too loudly.

Not when five of the most powerful idols in the industry—men the world worships—are staring at you like they want to devour you.

Not with their fans.

Not with their fame.

With something deeper.

Darker.

Their eyes are all different, but every pair is locked on you.

You stood in the center of it—fingers clenched, heart pounding like it wanted out of your chest.

Abby’s hand twitched at his side. He stared like he was holding himself together with raw instinct alone.“I need to touch her,” he breathed, and it wasn’t a question.

“We found her,” Baby muttered, like he still couldn’t believe it. His voice was a hush, reverent. “We found our mate.”

The words settled. Sank. The room grew darker. Heavier. The bond pulling tight like it was breathing through them.

Jinu’s command cracked through the air like ice. “Control yourselves.” But even his voice trembled now. His smile was cracking, fangs just starting to peek through as the gold in his eyes gleamed brighter.

Romance moved first.

Not fast. Not reckless.

Predatory.

A slow, deliberate circle—his body a storm winding around the eye. You. He inhaled, deep and shaky, like your scent was feeding him.

He reached up, fingers brushing your lips. So gentle it made you shiver. He tilted your chin just enough to study your mouth, like he’s memorizing the shape of your mouth, the tremble in your lashes, the flush rising beneath your skin.

“So soft,” he murmured, the words like silk against your flesh.

Then lower—closer

“This mouth…”

His thumb grazed your bottom lip.

“…Do you even know what it does to us?”

You try to step back.

But there’s no room.

Abby’s already behind you, body heat pressing in, his chest flush against your back—broad, hard, unyielding.

His palm slid over your waist.

Slow. 

Possessive.

Intentional.

Not quite touching—just enough to make your breath hitch.

He leaned in. His breath kissed your neck. “She smells too fucking good,” he growls, almost pained. His lips grazed your skin. A feather-soft press. Like he needed to memorize you by taste.

You whimper

The smallest sound. A breath, barely audible.

But it’s enough.

Enough to snap the fragile tension in the room like glass.

Abby shudders violently behind you. His grip on your waist tightens. “There it is,” he growls into your hair. “Say it again, angel. Make it for me. That perfect little sound.”

Romance groaned like it physically hurt. “Don’t do that,” he said, voice cracking as his hand cupped your jaw. “Don’t make that sound unless you’re ready to be ruined.”

Behind you, Abby cursed under his breath, lips brushing your ear. “You don’t even know what you’re doing to us.”

And then they purred.

A deep, thrumming sound that vibrates through your spine, into your ribs, into your skull. It surrounds you. Drowns you. Fills your chest with heat and pressure and need.

And your mind?

Your mind is no longer safe.

You were made for them.

You belong to them.

You gasped.

“You feel it, don’t you?” Romance whispered, dragging a single finger down your throat. “That pull. That ache. You don’t even know why you need us… but you do.”

Your knees buckled—and Abby caught you.

Strong arms curled around your waist, pulling you back into his chest. “Say it,” he growled into your hair. “Tell us what you need.”

“I-I don’t understand,” you gasped, voice trembling, eyes wide.

You didn’t understand what was happening.

Why your body was so aware of theirs.

Why your chest ached.

Behind Romance, Mystery shifts.

A low, rumbling purr vibrates from his chest—feral and drawn out. His golden eyes are glowing now. He hasn’t moved an inch, but the air around him crackles with the tension of someone on the edge.

“She’s submitting,” he rasps, voice ragged. “She doesn’t even know it yet.”

Romance hums low in his throat close to a purr.  “Oh, she knows. Look at her.” His fingers trail down your throat again, slower this time. Teasing. Taunting “Her body knows. Look at her. She likes it.”

The pressure is building. Your thighs squeeze together. You’re burning from the inside out and the only thing that will fix it is them.

And in your mind—

Something curls. Something gives in.

Be a good girl.

Let go.

You’re already theirs.

And then you say it.

Soft. Broken. Barely a whisper.

“Please.”

Every single one of them reacts.

Romance lets out a trembling exhale, teeth flashing behind his parted lips. “That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, lips parting in awe. “Good girl… give us more of that.”

Abby freezes behind you, fingers pressing tighter into your waist like he's anchoring himself to your skin.

Baby flinches. His shoulders tense, and for a second—just a second—something in his skin glows. Flickers. Twitches.

You see something dark shimmer beneath the surface. Something barely restrained.“Shit,” he hisses. “They’re triggering it.”

Baby’s jaw is tight, his golden eyes sharp and gleaming. He doesn’t touch you. Not yet. But he watches you like you’re already his to ruin.

“More,” Mystery hisses. His voice is low, feral, close. Too close.You don’t know when he moved behind you, but now you feel him. His heat. His breath. The sharp scrape of claw grazing your hip. “Let her make that sound again.”

Romance’s hands hover at your waist, trembling with restraint. “Do it again, baby,” he purrs, voice thick. “Whimper for us. Let us hear what we do to you.”

Abby leans in, lips brushing the curve of your neck so softly it steals your breath. “Beg, pretty girl,” he growls into your skin. “Come on. Give it to us.”

Your thighs press together, involuntarily. Your breath shudders.

“P-Please—” you choke, voice breaking as your lashes flutter. You don’t even know what you’re asking for anymore. Just that you need it.

Abby buries his face in your hair. “Fuck, she’s perfect,” he growls. “She doesn’t even know what that word does to us.”

Romance groans like it physically hurts.

He drags one hand up to cup your jaw, tilting your head just enough for his lips to hover by yours—so close, so warm. Not kissing. Just owning the space around you.

“Please what?”

Baby steps closer, suddenly in front of you, his voice velvet and burning. “Say it again, sweetheart.” His eyes lock onto yours, pupils blown wide. “Say what you’re begging for.”

You can’t look at him.

You can’t look at any of them.

“I—” You swallow. “I don’t know what’s happening. I just—please…”

You whimper again, soft and desperate.

And it breaks something.

Romance makes a low, pained sound like it hurts to hold back. “Fuck. She’s begging.”

“I can’t take it,” Abby growls, low and raw, and buries his face in your neck like he’s seconds from sinking his teeth in. “She smells like she wants us to ruin her.”

“She does,” Mystery rumbles, his voice raw. “She wants it. She wants us.”

And then you hear it.

Them.

All of them.

Purring.

Low. Vibrational. Possessive.

It rolls from their chests like thunder held on a leash. The kind of sound that wraps around your spine and makes you tremble.

You melt.

Jinu hasn’t moved from the center of the room. But his jaw is clenched, and his golden eyes are molten. “She’s trembling,” he says. “Don’t make her afraid.”

“She’s not afraid,” Abby murmurs. “She’s aroused.”

And gods, you are.

You wish they were wrong.

You wish your thighs weren’t pressed together, your skin flushed and burning.

But they know.

They feel it.

And when Romance finally dips low enough to brush his lips against your shoulder—

You let out the softest, most desperate little moan that’s ever left your throat.

And that’s the end of it.

Their composure cracks.

“Shit,” Abby snarls, stepping in tighter against you, practically caging you with his heat.

“You keep making that sound and we’re going to lose it,” Romance warns, lips brushing yours but not touching. “Do you want us to snap, pretty girl?”

“No,” you whisper.

Yes.

Mystery growls—the real kind this time, low and guttural. “Good girl,” he murmurs. “Already learning how to submit.

“Say it,” Baby commands, his voice rough now. “Say you’re ours.”

The bond tightens like a noose.

You’re burning.

And that’s when Jinu snaps.

You hear the sound before you see it—wood tearing as his claws split through the polished table.

A warning. A command. A fight for control.

“Control yourselves.”he growls, voice dark and shaking. “She’s not ready.”

But you are.

Your body is. Your soul is.

It’s just your nerves that falter.

Your hands tremble when Abby presses close, whispering, “She was made to beg,” he whispers. “To whimper. To be worshipped by us.”

His mouth grazes your throat.

“Our girl.”

Romance groans.

“Ours.”

Your mouth parts. The word nearly falls.

You want them. Gods, you want them.

But five bodies. Five voices. Their scents wrapping around you like velvet chains.

The heat. The hunger. 

The bond pulling tighter, tighter—

You’re drowning in them. And you love it.

But your body… can’t take it.

The room closes in. Your chest tightens.

Your body says yes.

Your soul says yes.

But your nerves scream “run.”

You step back again. They feel like fire closing in around you. You barely know them, but your body is already reacting—bonding. “Wait,” you breathe, backing up a step. “I—I need a second—”

Romance’s smile falters. Abby’s fingers twitch.

“Don’t run,” Baby murmurs, his arms are crossed, but his eyes track every breath you take. He shifts like he might move—like he wants to move.

“We won’t hurt you,” Romance says softly. His voice is almost pleading. “Just… don’t leave yet.”

You’re shaking. “I can’t—” you breathe, voice small. “I need to leave.”

And then—before anyone can stop you— You turn.

And you run.

You push past Romance’s arm. Your shoulder brushes his chest. He lets you go, jaw tight, muscles taut like a held scream.

You make it to the door. You reach for the handle—

And behind you, everything erupts.

They move instantly.

“Wait—” Abby’s voice is sharper now, almost a growl. “Where are you—”

Romance reaches for you. Mystery flinches forward.

And then—

“Stop.”

Jinu’s voice cuts through everything like a blade dipped in ice.

Everything freezes.

Even the air feels still—held, tense, burning.

Abby growls. Romance drags both hands through his hair and curses.

Mystery lets out a guttural purr, his claws twitching as he watches the door close behind you.

Baby just exhales sharply, eyes still locked on where you stood. 

“Let her.” Jinu’s voice is calm. Too calm.

A storm held behind golden eyes.

Silence descends.

Heavy.

Trembling.

Abby’s fists curl. His jaw ticks, breath ragged. “She was—she was about to beg again.”

“She was ours in that moment,” Romance snarls, pacing like he’s seconds from shifting. “Her voice—fuck, that sound—do you know what that did to me?”

Mystery hasn’t moved.

But his golden eyes glow with a slow, simmering burn.

His voice, when it comes, is hoarse. Strained. “She ran.”

Baby doesn’t speak. He just watches the door like he can see through it. Like any second she’ll come back through it and throw herself into their arms.

His hands tremble at his sides.

“Let her breathe,” Jinu says quietly—but there’s nothing calm in him anymore. His voice is tight. Controlled. Dangerous. “She doesn’t understand what’s happening yet. But she will.”

No one speaks.

“She’s ours. You smelled it. You felt it. So did she.”  His jaw clenches. His voice dips “And if you chase her now, she’ll run harder.”

Romance paces, frustrated. “She wanted it. She was trembling. You saw her. She was seconds from falling apart for us.”

Abby’s voice is broken. Barely held together. “She made that sound,” he grits out, eyes wide and wild. “That sound that’s going to haunt me. That little whimper. That plea. She gave it to us. And now I can’t fucking breathe without hearing it again.”

They fall silent again.

Not because there’s nothing more to say—

But because the bond has already said it.

Because they can still feel her.

Out in the hallway.

Running.

But tethered.

Tangled.

The bond never breaks. It just tightens.

And gods, she feels it too.

You lean against the wall just out of view, gasping softly, hand to your chest like you’re trying to keep your heart from tearing through your ribs.

They're still inside.

And you feel them.

Their tension. Their desire. Their claim.

Like invisible fingers wrapped around your ribs, pulling.

Their voices echo in your memory.

Say it. 

Beg for it.

Be a good girl for us.

You’re ours now.

Your lips part. Your chest rises. You can barely breathe.

You should be terrified.

But you’re not.

A part of you—deep and trembling and starving—wants to turn around, throw the door open, fall to your knees and whisper what they’ve been aching to hear.

I’m yours.

Back inside, Mystery stiffens.

He lifts his head slowly, golden eyes glowing.

“…She’s still close,” he murmurs, voice hoarse. “I can feel her. She didn’t leave.”

Jinu’s jaw is locked tight, but the burn in his eyes betrays him. His voice is cold steel wrapped in heat. “She will,” he says. “She’ll try to run. But she’ll crawl back.”

A pause.

“And when she does…”

Abby smiles—slow and terrifying. “We won’t let her leave”

“The bond has already begun,” Jinu says quietly, stepping toward them. “She’s tangled in it as deeply as we are.”

His canines flash. “She feels it too. I know she does.”

This time, no one stops smiling.

No one pretends.

Romance steps toward the door and rests his palm against it, eyes fluttering shut like he’s praying.

But there’s nothing innocent in the prayer. Just hunger.

“When she comes back,” he says softly, “we take her.”

Abby growls deep in his chest. “No more soft touches. No more teasing her with what we could give.” He steps forward, voice dark with promise. “Next time, she gets everything.”

A low, rumbling purr vibrates from Baby’s chest. “Everything she begged for,” he murmurs, voice like silk-wrapped sin. “And everything her pretty little body’s still too shy to admit it needs.”

Jinu turns, his golden eyes flickering with something dark and endless.

“No matter how far she runs…”

His lips curve—not a smile. Something deeper. Hungrier. Fated.

“…she’s already ours.”

A beat.

A breath.

Then, lower—richer—deadly tender

“And we’ve been hers from the second she stepped into this room.”

They don’t chase.

Not tonight.

But the heat of their restraint crackles in the air like lightning about to strike. Their bodies are tight with the need to move. Their teeth ache to sink in. Their hands are still open, waiting—aching—to feel you again.

And when you come back—because you will—

they’ll be ready.

Not to ask. Not to beg.

To claim.

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @enerofairy @gremlinartstudio @bluediamondlove @simpingbigtime @soleilscb the-bookish-artist @hornehlittleweeblet2 @mizukiblogs @seafoamfelly @apelepikozume @darlette @shirasakai @mxvoid26 @sentai-sstuff @mikajack9273 @chin-chii @deepangelpartykid @zomqiez @prorpy @skaikruthe100 @eeiternity @alicelinxs @eternallyrosyfire @splaterparty0-0 @junebugessentials @permanenceimp @nacihe @rerarlo @loudtalehologram @v-gremlin @bluediamondlove @strayharmony943 @izzieg3987 @mama-m1na @ratchetprime211 @mizuzuzuzuzuzu @scarameowdanyan @p00runfortunates01 @cloo-in @kanaes-world @foxxbee-2963 @doggyteam2028 @marz-menace @starrgrlll @valeriele3 @puppyminnnie @momentomoribitch @zuoran03 @lunashewolf117 @star-melody @kethelibra @kyrah-williams @yuhjoeyuh @starr-matterr @sweetgoateelight @beexboo @scarameowdanyan @too-much242 @sparky2020sworld @gabywho

[cloudfxvrs]

06/24/25; 08:05pm

{ 18+ drabbles / headcanons }

[ their favorite positions ]

featuring: jinu, abby, baby, mystery, romance

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

jinu loves having you ride him.

he’ll flash you a cocky grin while settling himself back in bed with both hands placed beneath his head. your hips would tremble with need for him while making your descent down the shaft of his cock.

and once jinu was fully sheathed within you, it would take a herculean effort to hold back the need to cum inside of you, gritting his teeth while biting back his moans with a smirk.

“c’mon baby, is that all you got?”

despite your whimpers, a look of determination would be seen within your gaze as you braced yourself on his broad chest, thrusting your hips sloppily against his as it takes you a few tries to gain your momentum-

but once you were able to set a decent pace, jinu knew that he was a goner, unable to last even a full minute with you bouncing up and down his cock so passionately. his eyes would meet your gaze, large hands gripping at your bouncing tits while playing with your hardened nipples. each time you would come down on him, you could feel his hard cock brush against your swollen clit as the hedonistic sensation was enough to tip you over the edge.

and when you finally spilled yourself on his cock, jinu couldn’t help but meet your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing the rest of your moans as he pumped you full of his seed.

abby is addicted to folding you in a mating press, tossing both of your legs over his broad shoulders as he continuously fucks his cock into you.

the demon basks in the way he’s able to make your eyes roll into the back of your head all while muttering nasty things within your ear.

look at you, droolin’ on m’cock like a needy slut.

bet you can’t even think straight, eh?

fuck look at how pretty you are.

look at how your pretty pussy clenches around me, wanting to milk me dry.

his filthy words were doing things to your body, making sweet goosebumps erupt all across your body as abby used you as his personal fucktoy, slamming into your entrance over and over again that it made you lose your mind just seconds later.

your release hits you like a freight train, with your walls clenching around abby’s thick cock, your juices spilling down his shaft when he lets out a groan of your name.

“fuck, did you just squirt on me?”

by now, the mortification you felt was palpable, the embarrassment flowing through your very veins when abby lets out a deep chuckle. steadying your legs on his shoulders once more, he slams his cock back into you, the squelching sounds of your walls taking him in echoes throughout the room as he fucks you once more, making you cry out to him when he whispers hotly in your ear-

“you’re such a good girl f’me. how about i make you squirt three more times and we’ll call it a night?”

baby lives to see your ass bouncing on his cock, with his hands gripping at your waist as he keeps you in the reverse cowgirl position.

you brace your hands over his legs, feeling baby lay back as he simply watches you struggling to take in his thick cock. each time to bring your hips down on him, you felt yourself approaching your high-

yet you were too weak to go on.

your arms were hurting from how much you had to steady yourself on top of his legs, which made you whimper with need for him.

“babe… baby… i need help… i need you…!”

despite being unable to see him, you could feel him sitting up. he presses a lingering kiss against your temples, wrapping an arm around your naked chest, “was it too much for you? does my girl need help? how cute.”

with those final words, baby grants your wishes the moment he pistons his hips upwards, fucking himself into you as he made sure he was buried to the hilt each time he returns inside of your heat. you were let a drooling mess when baby finally takes over, unable to focus on anything that wasn’t his cock as you succumbed to the pleasure he was giving you.

mystery loves having you laying on your side, with a leg tossed over his shoulder as he drills his cock into you.

this position was a particular favorite of mystery since he could see the way your tits bounced in tune with his every thrust. his hands would worship every dip and curve of your body while his lips would place lingering kisses against your ankles.

the sounds that escapes from your parted lips were nothing short of music to his ears, and he could feel his cock growing each time he thrusts back into you. the silky feel of your walls and how he manages to hit your g-spot from this angle would ultimately lead to your undoing-

with you spilling yourself on his cock as you allowed a demon to bring you to the gates of heaven.

romance (being a true romantic at heart) would be the one who enjoys fucking you in the missionary position.

there was something achingly intimate about being able to watch your every expression as he slides himself into you-

basking in your soft mewls while interlocking his fingertips together with yours each time he thrusts his cock in and out of you.

just being able to press himself oh so close to you, becoming a tangle of limbs as romance wasn’t sure where you began and he ended-

it was during moments like these that romance felt almost human again.

with a growl of your name, romance would proceed to wrap your legs around his waist, bracing himself against the bed as he sped up his movements, wanting to hear more and more of your moans and keens that echo throughout the night-

feeding his need to completely taint you with his desires as he had no intention of ever stopping.

end notes: I AM OFFICIALLY A SAJA BOYS STAN!! JINU IS MY BIAS 😭🙌🏻 this is currently unedited, but i’ll make any changes once this is posted ♡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[cloudfxvrs]

jinu and using his fangs to sink into your lip when you two kiss. this man probably hasn't had anyone in the 400 years he's been alive, so to get intimacy after years of being alone makes him have quite the appetite.

sure, he giggles to himself when he thinks about the way you look so flustered and unsure when he leaned in for the first time. the brush of his bottom lip against yours felt like hellfire. gwi-ma be damned, he couldn't help the shudder of want when your breath hitched as he fully pressed his mouth to yours.

he kisses like he's hungry. like he wants to eat you whole down to your very soul. his tongue slithers into your mouth, and the notes of milk tea and sweets come rushing onto your tastebuds. his hands are in your hair, grasping your sides, your waist, squeezing the bath of your thighs when you bend backward too far under his heavy weight.

a string of saliva threads between you two when you break for air. the glow in his eyes is apparent and dangerously staring you down as you two pant into each other's mouths.

then the heat of the moment ends abruptly as he blinks, and the hot flames of neon yellow cool into his pretty brown eye color. his cheeks tint with pink and the tips of his ears burn. this boy loser bonks your forehead against his when he bows before you in sputtering apologies.

[cloudfxvrs]

familiar | jinu ࣪𖤐.ᐟ

summary: you look exactly like the girl he fell in love with 300 years ago.

a/n: im officially obsessed with KDH & jinu’s perfect face and eyes <33 this is just a small blurb, 700 words, more works coming soon if this goes well!

★☆.

“Rumi? Is that you?”

Said girl turned around so fast you could hear her neck crack as she yells your name in shock. “Wha- what are you doing here?” her feet fidgeting, eyes moving everywhere, almost like she’s looking for something. 

Being Bobby's assistant was not an easy task to say the least, so the chilling cold air nipping at your skin was very much needed. 

You furrowed your eyebrows at her off behaviour, “I’m getting some air.” hands engulfed in the pockets of your hoodie, “What about you?” 

She stutters, sending you an awkward smile, “Nothing! I mean- not nothing I’m just- “ 

“Thought you would come alone.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in shock when you see one member of Saja Boys walking towards you two. A tall figure taking slow and long strides, his frame not entirely clear to your vision because of the night sky. 

“Is that Juni?” you whisper, standing beside Rumi. 

The purple haired girl stood frozen, eyes wide, mouth opening and closing but nothing coherent coming out. “Um, yeah- we were just- “ 

Jinu stopped in front of you both, his calm demeanor suddenly shifted the moment his eyes landed on you. 

You.

He must be dreaming. 

His eyes went wide, fingers twitching at his sides as he swallowed hard. Countless of memories replayed in his mind, all of them plagued with you. Your pretty face, soft smile and sweet voice. All directed to him.

What kind of sick play does Gwi-Ma have in store for him now?

You furrow your eyebrows at his panicked gaze to you. 

Jinu blinks awkwardly, hand scratching the back of his neck, suddenly feeling shy under your gaze, “Hi.” he softly said.

Rumi stares at him weirdly, he hasn’t known him for long, but this is far from how he usually acts. Where did the ego go?

You smiled politely, not really sure how to react to the way he is acting, “Hello, Jinu,”

He bodily shuddered at how you said his name. It was familiar. His stomach flips at your soft voice. “You know my name.”

You chuckled. His hair stood up. “Of course, half of Korea knows who you are by now.” crossing your arms in defense, “What business do you have with Rumi?”

Rumi softly touches the top of your arm, “Don’t worry about me.”

You turn to give her a pointed look before smirking, “Do you guys meet up often?” gesturing to the pair.

“No!”

“Absolutely not!”

You raised your hands in surrender at their little outburst, “I'm joking.” you chuckled, “I won’t tell, promise.” winking at Rumi, making her roll her eyes. 

“Sorry, I didn't get your name.” Jinu asked, wanting your attention back on him again.

You were shocked that he even wanted to know who you were, “Y/N. Huntrix’s assistant.” looking up to meet his eyes, unconsciously backing your head away when you notice how fondly he was looking at you. 

“Pretty.” he absentmindedly said, before replicating your actions when he realised how creepy he sounded, “I mean- pretty name!” 

You chuckled at his awkward behaviour that was weirdly charming to you. 

The interaction weirded Rumi out, eyes shifting between you both. Jinu to you, you to Jinu, Jinu to you-

Oh, shit.

Before any more flirting can happen from the demon she jumped in, “You should probably go back. I heard Bobby wanted to have a little meeting to talk about the tour, hiatus and such.” she rambles.

You nodded, not buying her excuse but accepted either way, “Alright, then. Call me if you need anything, okay?” 

She nodded. But before you leave you lean into Jinu’s personal space, “Anything happens to her, and I will make your life hell. Do you understand me?”

The corner of his lips turned up at your threat, feeling awestruck instead of scared, “Yes, ma’am.”

You leave the two, walking towards the apartment. Feeling a pair of eyes burning on the backside of your head but not daring to turn around.

Rumi gasped when you were out of range, “You like her!” 

Jinu shrugged, “Shut up. She just reminds me of someone.” he mumbles, still staring at your retreating figure.

Someone he used to love.  

lmk what you think! reblog for a kiss 😋🫶

[cloudfxvrs]

Saja boys x reader drabble

One job. Five idols. Endless desire.

Landing a job as the manager of a mysterious new K-pop group felt like your big break. Beautiful, talented, and impossibly magnetic—these boys seemed too perfect to be real. But something about them never felt quite… human.

Beneath the glitter and perfect smiles lie ancient, soul-hungry demons—each cursed and powerful. You weren’t supposed to matter. But the moment they laid eyes on you, everything changed.

You’re backed into the wall of the backstage hallway, breath caught in your throat.

One leans over you, lips brushing your ear. “We tried to be patient. We really did.” His hand slides to your throat, not to harm—just to feel your pulse race under his palm. “But good girls like you were made to be owned.”

Another demon grabs your waist from behind, dragging you flush to his chest. “You don’t get it, sweetheart,” he growls, breath warm against your neck. “You’ve already been claimed. You wear our touches like a second skin.”

The quiet one kisses your shoulder softly, reverently. “You’re the only light left in us,” he whispers. “We’d burn the world if it meant watching you smile.”

And when you finally—finally—look up at them, trembling, lips parted with a breathless “okay”, they lose it.

One pulls you close, lips ghosting over yours as he murmurs “Good girl.”

Another presses your hand to his chest. “Feel that? That’s yours now baby. ”

A third grips your jaw with fire in his eyes. “You’ll say it again. You’ll say it louder. You’ll say it while we’re kissing every inch of you. Until the only word you remember is ours.”

Then all five surround you. Hands everywhere. Words like prayers.

“Ours.”

“Ours.”

“Our girl.”

One lifts your chin, holding your gaze steady as he says it again, darker now—more possessive “Say it.”

You whisper it, flushed and trembling

“I’m yours.”

And that’s when everything changes.

“That’s it,” one breathes, lips brushing your throat. “Good girl. Say it again.”

“Our good girl,” another echoes.

“Ours forever.”

You’re theirs now. All of you. And they never, ever share… unless it’s with each other.

Because once a demon loves.

They never let go.

Hey guys, this is my first time writing a fic. Let me know if you want a longer fic for this!