ladysaja

[ladysaja]

The Crimson Pact | Part 9

Characterizations | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

SoulBond!AU

Pairings: Yandere!Saja Boys x F!Reader

Synopsis: You were never supposed to remember them.

Four hundred years ago, a pact was made—a blood-soaked bond tying five demons to one human soul: yours.

They’ve waited lifetimes for your reincarnation, cursed with obsession, tethered by fate.

And now that you’ve returned?

They’ll burn the world before they let you go again.

Warnings: Explicit Smut / NSFW. Minors DNI (Do Not Interact), Oral Sex (F!Receiving), Fingering, Breast Play / Touching, Penetrative Sex (P in V), Breeding Kink / Creampie, Size Kink, Praise Kink, Soul bond with the Saja Boys, Yandere themes!, obsessive behavior / possessiveness, romantic psychological tension, intense emotional fixation, yearning, dark romance.

A/N: Surprise! My little gift. There are 2 very explicit smut scenes here, so pls be warned! I've added a warning tag to the areas where the smut starts and ends for my non-smut readers. I finished this chapter earlier than I expected. My brain and hands just work faster when I'm writing filth? I'm also confused. Must be my uterus taking over the keyboard. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!

───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

The Saja boys are all demons.

They are wrath and ruin. Jealousy and death.

And yet, before her, they kneel.

Because she is the Heart. Because her soul is what keeps them from unraveling into true monsters. Because they were bound by her love and her curse.

They don’t just crave her—they depend on her. Without her presence, their minds deteriorate. Their bodies decay. Their hunger becomes unbearable.

Only Y/N’s touch tames the demon inside.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Names (For those who get confused): Haneul (Abby), Seoha (Romance), Hwimori/Hwi (Mystery), Seungho (Baby)

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Part 9:

This Was Always Fate

A low groan echoes through the room, followed by Haneul’s familiar rasp. "Gotta steal her now, boys."

The others groan in protest, Jinu tightening his arm around your waist possessively. "Not fair." Seungho mutters darkly, still panting.

"We just got her," Hwimori grumbles, hand resting protectively on your thigh. 

"I’m still dizzy," Seoha mumbles, forehead resting against your shoulder. But they part reluctantly when Haneul strides in, shirtless, sweatpants slung low on his hips. You giggle softly—completely spent, bare and glowing—as he scoops you into his strong arms like you weigh nothing.

“My turn to spoil our girl,” he says with a grin, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. You nuzzle his chest, giggling again. “You guys are so dramatic.”

“You’re not even walking,” Jinu mutters from the bed, still sulking.

The bathroom is warm, glowing in amber light. Steam rises from the full tub, bubbles glistening. Candles flicker along the tiled edges. You blink, surprised. “All this… for me?”

“Of course,” Haneul says, placing you down gently on a plush bath mat. His voice lowers, tender but rough-edged. “Only the best for my princess. After all… you just took a beating.”

You gasp, lightly smacking his chest. “Haneul!”

He smirks and promptly slaps your bare ass in retaliation. You yelp, face flushed. “You’re awful!”

“Mmm. You love it.” He leans down to kiss your cheek before guiding you into the water, and you melt with a moan the moment your sore body sinks into the warmth.

“Oh my god…” you sigh, closing your eyes briefly. “This is heaven.”

When you open them again, you freeze. Haneul’s hands go to his waistband. He slides his sweatpants down, and your eyes widen— heart skipping. “Wait—”

He raises a brow, stepping into the tub behind you. His massive erection bobs proudly before he settles, smug. “Relax, baby. I’m just getting in to wash you.” Then, voice lower, eyes glittering with mischief he says, “Besides… it’s not my fault my cock loves the sight of you.”

You go red instantly. He chuckles, pulling you between his legs and kissing your temple. “You’re so damn adorable when you blush. Want me to go harder just to see that face again?”

You sink into him, hiding your face. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re mine,” he murmurs, nipping your ear. “Tomorrow night… I’ll be the one inside you. So behave, hmm?”

You shiver. He pulls you into his chest, his muscular arms cocooning you, your spine pressed to his hard torso. His hands are large and sure as they reach for a silk sponge, lathering it with soap.

“Can’t be gentle with the world,” he mutters softly against your ear, “but with you? I could spend forever doing this.” The sponge glides over your arms, your shoulders, your thighs. His touch is soft. Worshipful. He kisses your shoulder. “They made me a demon when I asked for vengeance. But now? All I want is peace. And you.”

Your heart warms at his words and you turn your head to kiss him softly. His eyes flutter shut, savoring the feel of your soft lips on his. “I want that too.” you whisper.

He smiles tenderly and kisses your cheek. You feel his fingers in your hair, dipping you back just enough. You close your eyes as he gently rinses your scalp, massaging soap into your roots with fingertips that once ended lives—and now tremble in devotion.

He kisses your forehead as he cradles you again, wet hair slicked against his chest. “I’ll never let you carry a burden alone again. You were meant to be held. Cared for. Cherished.”

There was a soft knock at the door. Seoha steps in, smirking, a fluffy towel in hand. His damp hair is pushed back and he's shirtless too—lithe and lean, his violet demon markings faintly glowing under his skin. “You two done hogging the afterglow?”

“Barely,” Haneul grumbles, but he lifts you anyway.

You squeak as you're lifted again, but melt into the feeling as Haneul kisses your cheek and passes you to Seoha. The latter demon catches you effortlessly, wraps the towel around your body, and leans down to press a kiss to your collarbone. “Our girl,” he murmurs, voice husky. “So fucking perfect.”

He dries you carefully, lovingly, fingers tracing your thighs, back, and hairline. “Arms up baby,”

You smirk and lift your arms. Seoha smiles down at you softly, dressing you in one of his shirts. He steps back to admire you for a moment. “Yep, definitely mine.”

You smile and squeak as he goes to lift you again, peppering your neck in kisses. You squeal as he walks you back into your bedroom. When you enter, you see the boys are waiting on your bed. All except Jinu who had gone to take a shower. 

And you’re finally clean, warm, safe—and utterly, irrevocably theirs. Seoha places you gently in the center of the mattress, like setting a crown upon velvet. Hwimori is on you in a second, crawling across the sheets with the urgency of a man who hasn’t seen you in weeks, not minutes. He wraps himself around you tightly—too tightly—and buries his face into your neck with a low, throaty sigh. “I liked your smell better before the bath,” he mumbles petulantly against your skin.

“Hwi!” you scold with a tired laugh, smacking his shoulder with what little energy you have. But your fingers curl into his bare skin anyway. You can't stop touching them.

Seungho chuckles from behind you, his large hands sliding around your waist like silk restraints. “You smell perfect. Like us. Like what you are.” His voice is starved. He presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, his breath hot and possessive.

Seoha climbs in beside you next, fingers combing through your damp hair like it’s the only thing keeping him sane. “You should sleep, baby,” he murmurs, his voice velvet and coaxing. “We’ll be here when you wake up. Always.”

Haneul leans against the headboard, eyes glowing faintly even in the dim light. He doesn't speak. He just watches you with that low-burning intensity, like he’s guarding the gates of your dreams. His fingers trail up and down your arm soothingly.

You feel them all. The soulbond pulses faintly beneath your skin—like lullabies in your bloodstream. Every touch, every breath they take, echoes inside your chest. Your eyes flutter shut and your body aches in the sweetest way. The sheets are soft, but their skin is warmer.

You fall asleep like that. Surrounded. Claimed. Devoted to. Four pairs of eyes watching your breathing slow. Four monsters-turned-men who would kill for you, burn for you, beg for you. Who have waited lifetimes just to hold you like this.

And tonight, finally, they do. You fall asleep, utterly satisfied, completely worshiped—and so, so deeply loved.

The door creaks open with a low whisper. Jinu steps in, towel draped loosely around his shoulders, hair still damp from the shower. Droplets of water still cling faintly to his skin, highlighting every muscle carved from centuries of waiting. His gaze immediately locks onto the bed. And he exhales a slow, amused breath.

You’re buried.

Hwimori curled tight against your back like a watchful wolf, his nose tucked behind your ear. Seoha cradling your upper body, fingers intertwined with yours. Seungho at your feet, long legs tangled in yours, his eyes open and burning low—like coals that never cooled. And Haneul. Towering. The biggest of them all, seated shirtless at the headboard with your head resting on his thigh, one calloused hand rhythmically stroking your hair like he was trying to lull himself more than you.

A ring of obsession. A shrine.

“Really?” Jinu mutters under his breath, wiping his hair with the towel. “No room for me now?”

“You already claimed her first,” Seungho murmurs, not even looking up. “Don’t be greedy.”

“You were the first inside her,” Seoha adds silkily, voice laced with teasing venom. “Let us have the rest of her for tonight.”

Jinu scoffs lightly, but there’s no real heat behind it. Just a twitch at the corner of his mouth. He walks closer, gaze dropping to your sleeping form—peaceful, slack with exhaustion, glowing faintly in the candlelight. The soulbond’s threads shimmer like phantom silk across your chest, pulsing gently in sync with your breathing.

“She’s so small,” Haneul murmurs, brushing a finger along your cheek. “So fragile.”

“So perfect,” Hwimori whispers, nose twitching against your pulse. “She smells like us now. She’s ours.”

“She was such a good girl,” Seungho hums, eyes dark with memory. “She took Jinu so well. Took all of us… even if we weren’t inside her.”

“She glowed,” Hwimori sighs dreamily, pressing closer. “She glows when she comes. Did you see that? Like moonlight in her blood.”

Jinu chuckles low in his chest, towel now forgotten as he settles on the edge of the mattress. “Of course she glows,” he murmurs, brushing a finger down your thigh. “She’s the only light left in this cursed world.”

They fall quiet again, all of them now watching you breathe—like they’re memorizing it. Like they’ll carve it into their bones if they have to. And in the hush of the room, surrounded by monsters who’ve waited centuries to call you theirs…

You sleep. Unknowing. Loved beyond reason. And claimed far beyond saving.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The temple stones breathe in silence, the air ancient and slow. Candles sputter in deep alcoves where no wind reaches. Dust glows gold in the shafts of violet moonlight filtering through the cracks in the temple roof—witness to secrets that predate time.

Two figures sit in the shadows of gods long buried. 

“You saw her.” It isn’t a question.

“I did,” the first answers, voice dry and velvet-rich. “In the mall, of all places.” A pause. “She looked right at me.”

The second figure hums, his posture unreadable. “And?”

“A scared, fragile little thing,” a chuckle followed. “That beast arrived shortly after. He’s got sharp senses.”

The second one shifts slightly. “She’s merging with it, then?”

The first leans his head back against the stone. “Not just merging. She’s accepting it. That’s why this tether may actually hold.”

A pause.

“Unlike our friend.” The tone sharpens slightly.

The second sighs, old weariness pressing into his bones. “That was different. Daehyun was… misguided. He loved her.”

“Hmm,” the first murmurs, “Too much… enough to try the impossible.” 

“She was a hunter.” the second states.

“She was his heart.” 

Another silence follows, heavier now. “She wanted to bridge the worlds with him,” the first murmurs. “But you can’t open that gate without the right voices. Without all three. And you can’t forge a tether out of a soul already sworn to the hunt.”

“They tried anyway.”

“His mistake.” the first tutted.

The second tilts his head toward the shaft of moonlight. “And this one?”

A slow, wicked smile curves the other’s mouth. “She’s not broken. Not yet. She sees them. The demons. Not just what they show her—but what they are.”

The second hums, “And the demons?”

“They’re so lovesick they can’t see the storm coming.”

A low laugh, this time from both.

“The cursed king has no idea what he’s just allowed,” the first murmurs, more to himself. “He thinks the girl is a prize. A reward for obedience. He doesn’t know he’s handed them the match that could burn his throne.”

The second glances toward the moonlight. “Will it destroy him?”

“Not yet,” the first says. “But I have a feeling… this will not be like the last attempt.”

The second is quiet for a long while. Then, almost to himself, he says: “The Honmoon is fragile. Always was. Even now, it’s held together by borrowed will and borrowed song. It needs hunters to stay strong.”

“Which makes it mortal,” the first hums. “Fallible.”

There’s a long stretch of silence before the first’s eyes twinkle with promise. “She’ll choose them,” he says confidently. “Even the monstrous parts. Especially those.”

A silence that tastes like prophecy. And far away, curled in tangled limbs and soul-threads that shimmer with forbidden fate, a girl sleeps—still dreaming, still blind to what waits in the hollow places of the world.

But not for long.

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The sun barely filters through the thick blackout curtains, golden rays painting lazy stripes across the sheets. You stir, sore and drowsy, cradled against warmth. The sheets shift behind you, and a deep voice rumbles in your ear, low and teasing.

"Good morning, gorgeous," Seoha purrs, voice still laced with sleep.

You blink, turning in his arms to face him. His hair is a tousled mess, and his amber eyes shine with lazy affection. You smile, stretching slightly, only to wince at the soreness in your thighs.

"What time is it?" you mumble.

"Half past eleven," he says, trailing his hand over your side. "We let you sleep in. You needed it after last night."

Your cheeks burn, but you smile. "I feel good. Well rested."

Seoha grins, mischief curling on his lips. “Good to hear.”

And then— He grinds his hips forward, letting you feel the hard ridge of his morning wood press into your belly. You gasp. "Seoha!"

"Mmm?" he hums, mouth dipping to your jawline. "I already know what I want for breakfast."

───────── SMUT ─────────

His hands trail up, cupping your breasts, kneading them gently. You moan as his thumbs circle your nipples. "You were so good for us last night," he whispers, grinding against you again. “Do you know what you do to me?”

“Hmmm,” you mumble in reply at the sweet feel of his touch. You could get used to this.

His touch feels like fire on your skin. He peels his shirt off your frame, letting it pool at your back. "I love you in my clothes," he mutters, eyes dark, "but I love you more like this. Bare. Mine." He dips his head and sucks your nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling until you're gasping, writhing under him. His fingers trail downward, slipping between your legs. 

"So wet for me already, angel?"

You nod, breath catching as the bond flares to life, your body responding to his like it’s wired into your bones. You shouldn’t be this turned on first thing in the morning, but here you are. A victim to their touches.

"I’ve been patient," he murmurs, pushing one finger into you. You moan. Yep, you could definitely get used to this. "Watched them have you. Waited my turn. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to touch you like this?"

His fingers curl just right, stroking your walls in all the places that need them, and you bite your lip, crying out softly. He groans, adding another finger. He moves above you now—shirtless, gorgeous. His skin is back to its normal hue. Defined muscle ripples beneath violet demon markings that stretch like painted desire across his arms and chest. 

The bulge in his sweatpants strains. He fingers you harder, his muscular arm tensing between your thighs. Seoha’s other hand cups your breast, squeezing gently as his eyes rake your body. "So fucking beautiful," he breathes. “I’ve dreamed of this for centuries. I’ve died and lived for this. For you.”

Your body arches as he curls his fingers again, and you come with a broken cry, shattering in his hand. Seoha watches you unravel, moaning softly. Watching your beautiful face contort in pleasure almost short-circuits his brain.

He brings his slick fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean of your juices. "Fuck, you taste divine. I need to be inside you. Now." He growls, pulling down his sweats and your breath catches. Of course he was huge. These demons would be the death of you.

"Jesus. Are all of you like this?"

He smirks, palming himself. "We’re made for you, baby. Every inch."

He positions himself, placing his cock against your stomach—showing you just how deep he’ll reach. It sits just below your navel. Holy mother of-

"You’ll take all of it," he says, low and commanding. "And you’ll love it."

He kisses you deeply, possessively, claiming your mouth as his. Then he grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand. You pant up at him and bite your lip, helpless, and watch as his other hand guides his cock to your entrance.

He pushes in slowly, letting you feel every inch of him stretching your walls. You gasp, your legs shaking as you adjust to the sheer size. "So tight," Seoha groans, eyes squeezed shut. “You’re perfect. Fuck, you were made for me.”

Tears prick your eyes from the fullness. He kisses your face, murmuring soft praises. It would take time getting used to having all of them this way. 

"Just breathe, baby. Let me in. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you."

When he bottoms out, he lets out a guttural moan. His forehead touches yours, his breath ragged. He stays like that for a moment, eyes shut. Savoring the feel of the very thing he’d been waiting for across lifetimes. 

Then he starts to move.

At first, it’s slow. Torturously slow. Like he’s savoring every inch, memorizing the shape of your body from the inside. You feel everything. Every inch he gives you, every twitch of his aching cock. How it molds you from within. 

You whimper. "Faster. Please."

"You sure you know what you’re asking for, angel?" he asks, voice like gravel. His eyes burn like fire. Like any confirmation from you would make him snap. 

You nod.

He pulls almost all the way out, then slams back in. You cry out, jolting up the bed, head tipping back. The force rocks you, pleasure flooding your senses.

And then— He sets a punishing pace. Not rushed. But hard. Each thrust drives deep, filling you over and over. The wet sounds of your sex echo through the room. Seoha groans against your neck, snapping his hips tight against you with a heavy slap each time.

Your hands claw at his that were holding them down. You’re moaning, sobbing, drowning in the sensation. "So good," he growls. "Taking it all like a good girl. Letting me fuck you open."

He bites your shoulder, hips relentless. You’re trapped beneath him, pinned and possessed. Taking all that he gives you, and it was almost too much. Then he pulls back, grabs your knees, and pushes them to your chest putting you into a mating press.

Your eyes roll with this new position as you feel him drive in deeper. Reaching places you never even knew you had. You squeal. "Seoha—ah—wait—!"

"No more waiting, baby," he snarls. "You’re mine. My turn. My reward. My love." Every sentence he says with a hard thrust of his hips. His patterns glow brighter and the force of his thrusts knocks the wind out of you. His thrusts are brutal, deep. You gasp, seeing stars.

"You were made for this. For me. Say it."

"Yours," you breathe.

He fucks into you harder. "Say it again."

Tears form in your eyes. You grit your teeth in need, desperation. "I’m yours, Seoha. Always."

"That’s right," he growls. "Let everyone hear who you belong to."

You feel your climax building, fast and sharp. He feels it too, in the way your pretty pussy flutters around his shaft. He groans. "Come for me, baby. Give it to me. Everything."

"Seoha—please—I—"

You break.

White-hot bliss crashes over you. You scream his name, your fingers grip and claw at his hand pinning them down over your head.

Seoha’s roar splits the air. He drives in one final time and stills, burying himself to the hilt as he cums deep inside you. His hips jerk, filling you. "Take it," he groans. "Take all of me. I want you leaking with my cum. Marked. Mated. Filled."

You’re panting, whimpering at the aftershocks of your orgasm. You shouldn’t feel alive, but you did. More alive than you ever have in your life before they came into it. He trembles above you, kissing your face. Whispering sweet praises. "You’re everything. You’re mine. I’ll never let you go."

He stays in you for a moment, savoring the warmth and the bond, and the feel of you wrapped around him. Like he didn’t want to leave. Then, he gently pulls out, cradling your body in his arms.

──────── SMUT ENDS ────────

You’re breathless, slick in sweat, but deliciously satisfied. You look up at the man who holds your heart and both break into a smile. Morning sex, huh. Who knew it would feel this good?

You bury your head in his slick chest. “Well, that’s one way to start the day.” 

He chuckles breathily and smirks in your hair. “We could make it an everyday thing…” 

You’re about to retort when a knock on the door interrupts. "Brunch is ready, lovebirds!" Haneul calls through the door. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice. 

Seoha sighs, smirking. "Time to eat, baby. Trust me—you’ll need the energy to survive the rest of the day."

You pout up at him adorably as he lifts your arms to put his shirt back on you. “I don’t know if my legs work…” 

Seoha breaks into a grin. Fully aware of how he has himself wrapped around your finger. “That’s how I know I did my job. Come on– up we go!” He lifts you up into his arms and you wrap yours around his shoulders with a smile. Now this princess treatment, you could use everyday.

The scent of freshly cooked food wafts in the air as Seoha carries you bridal-style out of the bedroom, one arm tucked firmly beneath your thighs and the other against your back like you’re something too precious to touch the ground. Which, to them, you are.

The moment you enter the open living area, the boys stir like predators catching your scent. Haneul is behind the kitchen island shirtless, golden skin glowing as he flips something in a pan like it weighs nothing. Seungho leans against the kitchen wall nursing a coffee, wearing only grey sweats that hang deliciously low on his hips. Jinu’s already seated at the table in a black tee and dark pants, his hair still damp from a shower, looking every bit like the regal leader he is. And Hwimori—your lap seat for the day—is already in the dining chair, fidgeting eagerly in a soft hoodie and shorts, eyes wide and hungry like he’s been waiting hours just to hold you.

“Good morning, princess,” Jinu greets, lifting his mug. “Sleep well?”

“More like slept like the dead,” Haneul adds with a smirk.

Seoha grins devilishly. “Made sure of that.”

There’s a sudden smack as Seungho casually slaps the back of Seoha’s head as he walks by. “Too early for your mouth, loverboy.” 

You’re placed gently into Hwimori’s lap, and the demon nearly vibrates with delight. The moment you settle, he buries his nose into your hair and inhales deeply like you’re his favorite scent. “You smell so good like this,” he mumbles with a purr, voice low and worshipful. “All used up.”

Your cheeks flame as you mumble, “Good morning…” shy and small, eyes darting to each of them. The room softens. Their eyes don’t just look at you—they devour you. Dote. Adore. Like you’re something they dreamed into existence and still can’t believe is real.

They’ve tasted you. Worshipped you. And they’re already addicted. Jinu leans forward and takes your hand, brushing a kiss to your knuckles. “How are you feeling?”

You glance at all of them, heat rising to your cheeks. There’s concern in their eyes, protective and possessive, laced with love so fierce it could tear cities apart. You smile softly. “I feel amazing.”

Hwimori nuzzles your temple, purring louder now. That one sentence makes all of them exhale in relief. “That’s our girl,” Seungho mutters, watching you like he’s already planning his round.

From the corner of your eye, you see a massive blue tiger enter the dining room. You smile as he bumps his head to your lap affectionately. “Well, good morning to you too, Derpy.” 

The tiger spirit purrs as your hands scratch the back of his ear. From the window, you see the bird spirit in his tiny hat fly in, landing on Jinu’s shoulder. 

“Hey, hey, hey, no animals at the dining table!” Seoha jokes.

“Then why are you here?” Seungho mumbles.

With perfect timing, Haneul sets a massive brunch plate in front of you—eggs, salmon, avocado, lean sausages, fruits, yogurt, oats. “Whoa. That’s… a lot of protein,” you blink.

He winks. “Of course. Don’t want you breaking on us now.”

Your mouth drops open in disbelief and Seungho adds dryly, “Consider it meal prep.”

“… And I’m the meal?”

Seoha leans in and steals a bite from your plate—only to pass it into your mouth with his own, kissing you as you chew. “Always.”

From Jinu’s shoulder you swear the bird groaned.

You let out a helpless little whimper, cheeks flushed. “You guys are too much… I feel like I’m being fattened up for sacrifice.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Jinu says, setting a tall green smoothie before you. “Energy booster. You’ll need it.”

You’re overwhelmed—in the best way. Loved. Held. Fed. You’ve never been pampered like this before. No one in your past life… no one in this life. Slowly you begin to ponder, being soulbonded to five demons isn’t hell. It’s heaven.

You let them feed you—Hwimori slipping fruit into your mouth, Jinu dabbing your lips with a napkin, Seoha licking syrup off your fingers on purpose. The animal spirits have now gone to lounge on the balcony to soak up some sun. 

You’re glowing… until something shifts. You stiffen. There’s something… damp between your legs. Your eyes widen in horror.

You’re still in Seoha’s shirt. No underwear. And his cum is leaking out of you. On Hwimori’s lap. You squirm instinctively.

“What’s wrong, angel?” Jinu asks, voice immediately alert.

“I—um—I just need to grab some underwear real quick—”

Hwimori’s arms tighten around you. “No,” he murmurs, confused but unwilling to let go.

“I really need it—”

A pause. Hwimori blinks once. Then whispers, “Seoha’s seed is leaking out of her.”

The entire table stills. And Seoha? He just laughs.

You whimper and shrink into Hwimori’s arms, mortified, you smack his chest. “Hwi!”

“Guess I stuffed her too full,” Seoha drawls.

“Seoha!” You scold, burying your face into Hwimori’s hoodie.

The boys don’t mock you. They don’t laugh. They grin. Wicked, possessive, and hungry. Seoha brushes your hair aside, lips on your ear. “I should be angry it’s leaking out.”

“But that just means,” Seungho says, licking syrup from his thumb, “we’ll have to fill you again.”

You stare at them, flustered and horrified. “Okay, okay, can I please just eat breakfast in peace?”

They chuckle, and Jinu presses a gentle kiss to your hand. “You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed, princess.”

“Let’s keep her cute forever,” Seungho murmurs, rubbing a lazy hand over your bare thigh.

Breakfast continues—with less scandal and more pampering—until your curiosity gets the better of you. “So… what are your plans today?”

Jinu sighs. “I’ve got some idol management stuff to deal with. Schedules, planning.”

“Just you?”

“No. Seoha’s coming too.”

Seoha freezes mid-bite. “What?”

“You didn’t check the group chat?” Haneul smirks. “Oops.”

“Why do I have to go?” Seoha protests.

“Because you and Jinu already had your turn,” Seungho replies flatly.

You snort and cover your face with your hands. “Oh my god.” You look around at the others… the way they’re still eyeing you. Yep. You have a full day ahead. A small part of you flutters in excitement. Like perhaps Christmas came early, or your birthday…

Then, a thought pops up. “Wait… when are your birthdays?”

They blink. “That’s random,” Haneul mumbles, biting into a piece of toast.

You shrug with a smile. “How can I be soul-bound to all of you and not even know when your birthdays are?”

Seoha hums, swirling his juice lazily. “Fair point. Though mine was... what, centuries ago? I’ll have to dig deep.” The table falls into a thoughtful silence as they each search their long memories for scraps of their past lives.

Jinu is the first to speak. “September 16,” he says quietly, his golden eyes far away. “The harvest season. My mother used to say I was born under the sign of order… but destined to bring chaos.”

Seoha tilts his head. “November 7,” he murmurs. “It rained that day. I remember because my mother cried, said the sky was mourning early.”

Haneul grins, drumming his fingers on the table. “March 28. I remember the trees were just starting to bloom. I used to climb them to steal fruit.”

Seungho grunts. “October 9. That year, a fire broke out the night I was born. My dad said it was an omen.”

Then, all eyes shift to Hwimori. He stiffens slightly, the fork pausing halfway to his mouth. “I... don’t think I have one,” he says softly. “Spirits aren’t born the way you are. I just... came into being.”

You frown at that, expression turning thoughtful. “Then let’s give you one.”

Hwimori blinks. “What?”

You smile. “A birthday. We’ll choose a date. And celebrate it. This week, even.”

His eyes widen slightly, a flicker of something ancient and soft crossing his face. “You’d do that?”

“Of course,” you say, reaching to brush his head. “You deserve to be celebrated too, Hwi.”

His lips twitch into a small, stunned smile, and he leans in, nuzzling your neck with a purr. “You really are too good for me.”

The others watch with softened expressions, and Jinu murmurs, “Okay, angel. Let’s do it. We’ll throw him a birthday.”

Seoha raises his glass. “To Hwimori’s first birthday—and our girl with the golden heart.”

Brunch goes on as usual. Eventually, Jinu and Seoha rise to leave. Seoha, of course, makes a production of it. He throws himself dramatically across the couch. “Tragic. Ripped away from my goddess at her peak of fertility.”

You throw a napkin at his head. “You’re so dramatic.”

He grins, snatches your wrist, and peppers kisses across your cheeks, forehead, nose and neck. “I’ll miss you. Don’t have too much fun without me.”

Jinu’s goodbye is quieter. He cups your face gently and presses his forehead to yours. “Be good, love,” he murmurs. “Call me if any of them step out of line.”

“I will.” You kiss him softly. “Come home soon.”

When the door closes behind them… you’re left with Haneul, Seungho, and Hwimori. They’re standing there. Staring. Smirking.

You clear your throat. “I’m going to… paint. See you guys later!”

And then you bolt. The sound of three possessive demons groaning behind you chases you down the hall.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

You're painting in your studio—lost in color, the strokes of the brush calming the flutter in your chest. Beside you, Derpy and Birdie take a nap, lulled by your quiet humming (and the tiger also being used as your fluffy backrest).

It’s been two hours, maybe more. After your shower, you hadn’t bothered putting on much. Just Hwi’s oversized hoodie—left for you without a word—and your panties. You’d forgotten to grab clothes, and somehow it felt right to wrap yourself in something that smelled like them. Like home.

Your bare legs are flecked with paint when your stomach growls. You set the brush down, stretch your arms, and yawn. Time for a snack.

Padding barefoot down the hallway, you slip into the kitchen, rubbing at your eyes—only to find Seungho already rummaging through the cabinets.

“Think you can run and hide from me, princess?” His voice curls into your spine before his hands do—warm and possessive as they wrap around your waist. His lips brush your neck and then he licks a slow stripe up your skin.

You shiver. “I wasn’t hiding. Just… painting.”

“Mmm.” He pulls back with a dark smirk. “Did you want a snack?”

You nod, lips parted. “Yes please.”

He grabs a bag of chips from the shelf while you open the fridge and grab a Yakult. “Where are the others?” you ask.

“Haneul’s in the gym. Hwimori’s in the studio. Want me to take you there?” He sounds casual, but his fingers tighten subtly at your hip.

“I’m okay,” you say softly, slipping a second Yakult into your hand, then a third. You hand him one. His eyes gleam, but he kisses your head and passes you the snack.

You squeak out a “Thank you!” and he just watches you walk away with that lazy predator grin, the one that makes you feel like you’re being hunted even when they let you go.

You head down the hall. Quiet. Curious. You press your hand against the gym door and gently ease it open—and freeze.

He’s there. Haneul. Shirtless. His massive frame is haloed in sunlight streaming from the tall windows. Broad back glistening with sweat. Skin flushed. Muscles carved from something godlike and brutal. He’s lifting an enormous barbell over his shoulders—something impossibly heavy—like it’s nothing but air. His biceps bulge with each curl, veins dancing across his forearms, his expression taut with focus. He doesn’t see you yet.

He’s wearing just sweatpants that hang low on his hips, clinging to his thighs in all the right ways. You swallow, hard. Your heart stutters, your thighs clench. You stare. Awestruck. A little dizzy.

The bond tugs tight inside you—want, need, hunger. You try to step back but knock into the doorframe with a soft thud.

His head turns and he spots you. A smirk creeps across his face. Slowly, deliciously dangerous. He pulls his earbuds out. “Like what you see, baby?”

You nearly drop the Yakults. “I—uh—was just… checking in. And I brought you something?” You hold out the tiny bottle, a weak defense against the wall of man walking toward you.

He doesn't stop. Each step feels heavier than the last, weighted with tension. The air thickens. He’s got that look in his eyes—the one that says he’s barely restraining himself. “You always sneak in when I’m sweating,” he says lowly, crowding into your space.

“It’s not on purpose—” you start, heart thudding, but your back hits the wall. He plants one thick forearm beside your head, trapping you gently. The muscles ripple with residual effort, still swollen from the workout. His other hand lifts the Yakult from yours without breaking eye contact.

“Then why,” he murmurs, leaning in, voice deep and slow, “are you looking at me like it’s the first time you’ve ever seen me?”

You glance down, lips parting. He’s massive. His chest is heaving from exertion, abs slick and hard and rising with every breath. His skin is warm with heat and smells like salt and cedar and something purely Haneul. He’s so close. You can see the droplets trailing down his throat.

You murmur, breath hitching, “You look… strong.”

He tilts his head. His smile sharpens. “I am strong,” he replies—and then, lower, filthier: “Wanna know what else I’m good at carrying?”

Your breath stutters as he brushes a knuckle down your jaw, then trails a line of his sweat along your throat. Your whole body shivers. He sees the way your legs press together. The way you try not to stare at his glistening chest. The way you bite your lip.

He growls, soft and low. “You make me lose my mind,” he whispers, voice rough with want. “You walk in here looking like that—wearing someone else’s hoodie and nothing underneath? You know what you do to me, baby?”

Your lips part to say something. Maybe a tease. Maybe a denial. But you don’t get the chance. Because then— His hands are suddenly at your waist, and you’re lifted off the floor like you weigh nothing at all.

His palms span your thighs, strong and sure as he settles you on the padded wall mat behind you, pinning you in place with the sheer size of his body and the searing heat of his skin pressed against your inner thighs.

Your breath hitches. He’s panting too. Face flushed. A tremor in his hands that betrays how close he is to losing control. His hips grind forward—and you feel it.

Hard. Huge. Heavy against your core.

You gasp. And Haneul? He moans. Head dropping into the crook of your neck, nose dragging up the side of your throat, lips ghosting your ear. “I’ve been waiting for this my whole life,” he murmurs. Then pulls back to look at you.

Your cheeks are flushed. Your thighs trembling. And he smiles like a wolf who’s about to feast.

───────── SMUT ─────────

“Haneul… please—”

His eyes gleam like molten gold at the sound of your voice, raspy and wrecked already. You’re trembling, pressed up against the wall with your thighs bracketing his waist. His hands, massive and hot, grip your hips like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. “Please what, baby?” His voice is rough silk. Teasing. Dangerous. “You want me to touch you? Is that it?”

You nod, breath shallow. Your mind is spinning, body too sensitive, too hungry to form words. Every inch of him is overwhelming—broad shoulders gleaming with sweat, chest heaving as he takes you in like he’s starving.

His hand slides down, fingers brushing the soaked curve of your panties. He curses under his breath. “Fuck,” he growls. “Look at you. So wet… just from seeing me like this?”

You can’t respond. He sees the haze in your eyes and smirks, feral.

“My poor girl,” he murmurs, voice dropping. “You’re trembling.” He brushes over the wet spot again, and your knees nearly buckle—even with him holding you up. “You always get like this when I’m near, huh? You need me that bad?”

He doesn’t wait for your answer. With one sharp motion, he tears the thin fabric at your hips—ripped clean like it was never there. His gaze darkens. His pupils dilate. “Been dreaming about this,” he breathes, hungry. “Been patient. Too patient.”

Without warning, he drops to his knees—still holding you up with terrifying ease. He lifts your legs over his thick shoulders, locking your thighs around his neck. You squirm, breath catching in your throat. “Wait—Haneul—”

But he’s already leaning in. Your back arches instinctively as his hot breath ghosts over you. His hands grip your thighs, firm and anchoring. His mouth brushes you, once, then again—soft, teasing strokes that have your fingers flying to his hair in a desperate bid to ground yourself.

And then he moans. It’s a deep, guttural sound that vibrates straight through you.

“Fuck,” he groans again, burying his face into you like a man possessed. His tongue moves with urgency, lapping and savoring like you’re the only sustenance he’s ever known. Your moans spill out, helpless and high, bouncing off the walls of the gym.

You clutch at his sweat-dampened hair, helpless. “Haneul—oh my god—”

He looks up at you, his eyes glowing gold, demon markings beginning to shimmer across his skin. There’s no humanity left in them now. Just hunger. Just you. “You taste like a fucking dream,” he growls, voice raw with emotion. “My dream. My girl. My everything.”

He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even slow down. You can barely breathe, the intensity building so quickly you feel like you’re going to fall apart—if he lets you. But he won’t. His grip only tightens. His arms keep you pressed to the wall like you weigh nothing. You can feel every drag of his tongue, every press of his mouth, every low, ruined sound he makes as he drowns in you.

“Haneul—! I’m–!”

He groans again at your unraveling voice, dragging his mouth against you like he needs this. Like he’ll die without it. His fingers dig into your hips possessively, keeping you right where he wants you. You come apart in his arms. Shaking. Crying out. Gripping his shoulders like a lifeline as your vision flickers white.

He doesn’t stop until you’re limp in his hold—wrung out and gasping. And when he finally pulls back, lips slick, his glowing eyes rise to meet yours again. He licks his bottom lip slowly. “You’re mine,” he whispers, voice shaking with love and lust and madness. “No one gets to taste you but us. No one ever will.”

He stands with you still in his arms. The look on his face is nearly unhinged—awed and worshipful and absolutely feral. His cock strains against his waistband. He then pulls down the garter and your eyes widen at the sight of his aching shaft. Thick and heavy, pressed between your bodies. You feel the heat of it. The weight of it.

He growls, looking down at the sheer size of him compared to your torso. He murmurs low in your ear: “You’re so small, baby… but you’ll take all of me, won’t you?”

You swallow. You’ve never wanted anything more in your life. You nod, whimpering, and he captures your lips in a devouring kiss that is almost primal. 

And then— he lifts you, lining you up to his shaft before he sinks into you. 

The stretch is slow. Deliberate. He groans as your walls begin to accommodate him, and your back arches at the sensation. You dig your nails into his shoulders, overwhelmed, gasping.

“Haneul—I don’t think I can—”

“Yes, you can and you will,” His voice is a soft growl. “You were made for me. For this. For us. You’re doing so well, baby.”

He inches deeper, his thick length filling you like nothing else ever has. The pressure, the fullness—it’s too much, too perfect. You almost sob as he sinks the last inch in and presses flush against you, fully seated. Fully inside.

Both of you still. His body trembles slightly, jaw clenched as he tries to rein in the animal urge to just take. But then he exhales, shaky. “So warm,” he whispers. “So tight. God—baby, you don’t even know what you’re doing to me.” He grunts, almost pained. “Don't worry princess, I'm gonna mold you to my cock.”

He presses a kiss to your temple, and then—he begins to move. Lifting you up to thrust back in. That thrust has you both leaning your heads back in pleasure. It’s slow. Measured. But you feel it everywhere—how he fills you, stretches you, claims you. You whimper as you take him. 

His hands grip your thighs tighter. The wall behind you shakes with each motion. Your moan escapes helplessly as your head tilts back, lost in the sensation. He growls, barely restraining himself. You see his large muscles flex and harden as he's thrusting into you.

And then he picks up the pace. Haneul pins your hips against the wall and starts jack-hammering into your heat. Going so deep you don't know where he starts and you begin. Harder. Deeper. Each thrust slams into you with devastating power. Your cries mix with his groans, the slap of skin echoing in the gym like music only the two of you can hear.

He buries his face in your neck, biting gently. His sweat mingles with yours. You cling to him as if you might fall apart—and maybe you will.

“You feel that, baby?” he pants, hips snapping into yours. “That’s me. Deep inside. Where only I get to be.”

Your legs quake as the pleasure builds again, sharp and hot. You can barely form words. But he watches your face, obsessed, ravenous, utterly in awe. “You’re taking me so well. My perfect girl. My good girl.”

He thrusts harder—faster. Then pauses, just for a moment, to look down between your bodies. A low, wicked chuckle leaves his lips. Eyes glittering in awe like he’s mesmerized as he watches himself disappear inside you— so deep in this position that it forms a bulge in your stomach. He curses at the sight. “Look at that,” he murmurs, stroking a hand over your belly. “You can see me, baby. I’m so deep.”

You gasp, breath caught. The pressure there is insane. He palms it again, groaning. “God, you’re gonna break me,” he moans. “Or I’m gonna break you.”

You cry out as he slams into you again, pace wild now. Controlled only by the need to make you his. To brand you. Body and soul.

He watches himself disappear inside you, over and over. "Where do you feel me, baby? Tell me." 

You whimper, "So deep- In my tummy, Haneul-" 

He growls at that and goes harder. You moan, holding onto him for dear life as the sounds of your lovemaking fill every inch of the room. He thrusts into you and lifts you as if you weigh nothing. Like a ragdoll. Your nails dig deeper into his back at the pleasure and he groans, leaning in to bite your shoulder, grunting, sheen with sweat, as he fucks you against the wall. 

You feel the coil in your stomach tightening and plead, "Haneul— I'm— I’m–!"

"I know baby." he moans, angling his hips higher to reach a spot within you that has you seeing stars. You squeal. He's lost all control and sense of reason at the feel of you wrapped around him.

Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave—sharp, sweeping, uncontrollable. Your body clenches around him and he snarls against your ear. “That’s it, that’s a good girl,” he grits out. “Come for me. Let me feel it.”

You’re sobbing his name, fingers clawing into his back as he keeps thrusting, desperate now. His rhythm stutters. And then—he groans, long and broken, thrusting deep one final time. His body shudders. You feel it. Heat. Flooding. Filling you. His breath catches as he presses deep, holding you flush as his arms tremble with restraint. 

“You’ll take all of me,” he pants. “Every drop. Fill you so full, it’ll drip out all day unless I plug you up myself.”

You moan softly as his lips ghost over your skin, worshipping. Repeating praise in a voice cracked by emotion. “Such a good girl. You’re mine. You’re mine.”

Your heart pounds against his. And for the first time in your life, you believe—truly—that no one could ever love you like this. Not with this much fire. Not with this much worship.

Not the way Haneul does.

You’re both panting. The world outside the gym doesn’t exist—just the sound of Haneul’s uneven breathing, the rapid beat of your heart, and the heat between your tangled bodies. Your arms are still wrapped around his thick shoulders, your legs draped over his waist, and he’s still inside you. Warm. Heavy. Pulsing with the last tremors of release.

“Such a good girl for me,” he murmurs, voice low and raw. “Took everything I gave you. You always do.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw, then nuzzles your temple with his damp forehead.

Without pulling out, he carefully turns and lowers both of you to the gym mat. He leans back against the wall, cradling you in his lap like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held.

“Just… wanna stay like this for a while,” he says, still breathless. His arms wind tightly around your waist, keeping you flush to his chest. “Wanna plug you up a little longer, baby.”

──────── SMUT ENDS ────────

You let out a breathless laugh, burying your face into his neck. He smells like sweat, warmth, and something distinctly him—earthy, masculine, grounding. Your fingers gently comb through his damp hair, and his hold on you tightens just slightly, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

He exhales softly. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this. Having you. Holding you like this.”

Your hand gently cups his cheek. “You don’t have to get used to it,” you murmur. “Just… stay.”

He leans into your palm, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “I used to dream of this,” he admits. “Back then… when I didn’t know if I’d ever find you again. I’d close my eyes and try to remember what you felt like in my arms. Now that you’re really here—” His voice falters. “—I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let go.”

You smile, pressing your forehead to his. “Then don’t.”

A warm, almost disbelieving smile curls on his lips. “Careful,” he whispers, “I take things literally.” You chuckle, and he hums, shifting slightly to adjust you in his lap without slipping out. His arms tighten around you.

The two of you stay like that for a while, bodies slick with sweat, hearts steadying in each other’s arms. You feel safe in his hold. Worshipped. Like every inch of you is wanted beyond reason.

Eventually, he shifts, still holding you. “Alright, princess,” he says, lips brushing your neck. “I should probably start dinner… though…” he cups your hips and gives you a teasing little grind. “…you’re already pretty full.”

You groan and swat his shoulder, and he chuckles, kissing your sternum as he starts to gently lift you off him.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers with a wicked grin. “I’m sure you’ll still have room for dessert.” TO BE CONTINUED

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A/N: Wow, my ass was clenched when writing this. I kid you not, my hands flew so fast on the keyboard at the pure filth in these smut scenes. But also, I sprinkled in some fun love scenes too + more plot points tying in now. And I'm sorry I just- Abby? Hello?! Size kink go burrrr. I had to, I had to. I'm not even sorry.

I hope you guys enjoyed this one! Any bets on who's claiming next? ;) Next chapter will have more smut again just because we obviously have two more men waiting patiently for their turn, and then the conflicts will roll in a bit more as shit will start to get real. Let me know what you guys think of the chapter in the comments! Reblog, Like, etc. I appreciate it all. <3 Much love MWAH Willa x

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Taglist: @luluprincess230lp @maiznamai @miss-goldenweek @ilovemyths2003 @amercanfailure @selena-rocker27 @nubyeol @type-ink @rissareader @sillygirlnat @accountforreading123 @sungjinwooscertifiedwife @imissnanami @ateezswonderland @athena-portgas @atl4ntxc @badbishsblog @bearb33 @beppybeesnuggets @bloobewy @booknerd2004 @candylandrules @casperleghosty @chirikoheina @chugjugg @cloudfxvrs @cottonheadedninnymugggins @crustypatatos @dragongirl642 @eggosside @enerofairy @ezri261 @faerie-soirxx @fanficriter @ffcfffr @g-l-1-t-c-h-3-r @girlwiththegoats @givecyrustheirflowers @insomniacfigure @invinciblewaffles @irethepotato @iv-vee @izzieg3987 @jamaicanqueen007 @jamerlynn @justanerd1 @lavnderluv @letsmakethingsclear-ididntask @levifiance @limerenceisserenity @littlemissfix-itfic @littlepotaaatosimp @loomindoors @lovely-maryj @lovely-tulipp @lovelymelon @luxylucylou @maniacalism @meeeegaaan @mel3484 @meridian-of-misery @miffysoo @airwolf92 @akira-yan @aleclockwood @amercanfailure @animal-and-flower-lover @anisimp @anonymousewrites @apelepikozume @arieslucy @perfectlywingedflower @permanently-tired-pigeon @pleasantlyspookycreation @pookiei-bookie @poptrim @procookie2007 @qmabailor @quantumorquanta @raineandcl0uds @realifezompire @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @saltedcoffeescotch @sarah22447 @scaranao @shadowlover321 @shadyplaidwagonmuffin @shinebright2000 @sin-for-jin @sleepyamaya @slutforsmut4ever @sollum @soy-soi-si @gwinamlvr @h3110-dar1in9 @hi-itsmee28 @himikoquack @hornehlittleweeblet2 @ibby-miyoshi-nerd @imjusthereforthecake56 @insane-scientist @spiderset @sra7riddle-malfoy @starlight100 @storyteller-le @strayharmony943 @sunoosmainchick @tenaciouskittenpuff @the-sweet-psycho @tommyinnit-kinnie @udejoenrlddo @unadulteratedwizardrunaway @unsolicitedopal @venommie @vi1326 @vita-nire @vixyvlo @weponxwrites @wpdarlingpan @yandereaficionado @yepitsmesendhelp @your-favorite-god @yumekono @zuhaeri @misdollface @mitsuakashi @mjustag1rl @moonlight-rosevine @mossy-luna @mshope16 @natllo @nesrynsblog @neuvilletteswife4ever @nonetheartist

[ladysaja]

The Crimson Pact | Part 8

Characterizations | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

SoulBond!AU

Pairings: Yandere!Saja Boys x F!Reader

Synopsis: You were never supposed to remember them.

Four hundred years ago, a pact was made—a blood-soaked bond tying five demons to one human soul: yours.

They’ve waited lifetimes for your reincarnation, cursed with obsession, tethered by fate.

And now that you’ve returned?

They’ll burn the world before they let you go again.

Warnings: Explicit Smut / NSFW. Minors DNI (Do Not Interact), Oral Sex (F!Receiving), Fingering, Breast Play / Touching, Penetrative Sex (P in V), Breeding Kink / Creampie, Voyeurism, Soul bond with the Saja Boys, Yandere themes!, obsessive behavior / possessiveness, romantic psychological tension, intense emotional fixation, yearning, dark romance, hurt/comfort

A/N: The chapter I know many of you have been dying for. As the warning states, explicit smut, people! I didn't hold back. For my readers who don't like that, a fair warning that the chapter starts and ends with smut, but there is an important part in between regarding the bond & plot. Let me know if you want me to add markers for that tho? This chapter ended up being longer than I expected, so the next chapter will... also...have... smut. I just couldn't fit it all in here. So y'all will have another yummy treat next chapter! I started writing this series already intending for it to be spicy, but it isn't everything of course!

───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

The Saja boys are all demons.

They are wrath and ruin. Jealousy and death.

And yet, before her, they kneel.

Because she is the Heart. Because her soul is what keeps them from unraveling into true monsters. Because they were bound by her love and her curse.

They don’t just crave her—they depend on her. Without her presence, their minds deteriorate. Their bodies decay. Their hunger becomes unbearable.

Only Y/N’s touch tames the demon inside.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Names (For those who get confused): Haneul (Abby), Seoha (Romance), Hwimori/Hwi (Mystery), Seungho (Baby)

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Part 8:

No More Waiting

They move at once. Not with chaos. With purpose. Hands, breaths, mouths. Like predators descending—not out of rage, but hunger. Not just to claim, but to consume. They don’t just touch you—they devour you.

Mystery— Hwimori’s hands grip your hips with urgency, as if anchoring himself to the only tether keeping him sane. He buries his face in your neck, breath hot, voice a trembling worship against your skin. “You smell so good, baby,” he murmurs, lips trailing your throat. “I want to live inside your bones. Want to rip myself open and pour into you. Make a nest in your ribs and never leave.”

Your gasp catches, and he shudders against you. Romance—Seoha appears at your side, his fingers cradling your jaw like you’re spun glass. “So perfect,” he breathes, brushing his lips over your cheek.

Then Baby—Seungho seizes your wrist. The bruising grip, the wild eyes, that untethered possessiveness like a match already lit. “You made me wait.” His voice is low, guttural. It’s not anger—it’s damage. “You walked through lifetimes without me. And now…” His gaze sweeps your body like he’s already stripping it bare. “Now you’ll feel what that did to me.”

You gasp as he angles his hips closer to your torso and you feel him. His burning need and desire ground into your stomach. You gasp and moan at the feeling, the sound making all of them growl in complete and utter need.

They don’t carry you to the bed. They herd you—closer, closer—with every step back met by one, two, three more bodies pressing forward. Fingers grazing your skin like it’s theirs by right. Mouths brushing exposed flesh. Words whispered in barely-restrained lust.

You can’t tell whose hands are where. Only that you're being unmade. Until your back hits the bed—and even then, they don't pounce. Not yet. They savor.

Jinu is behind you before you blink. One firm tug and you're pulled between his legs, back flush to his chest, his thighs bracketing yours. His arms wrap around your waist, steel and silk. He kisses your neck with slow-burning hunger. Not a kiss to seduce—a kiss to bind. “You belong here,” he says, low and devastating. “With us. With me. In every life. In every death. Every breath in between.”

His hands drift up, palms broad, fingertips burning into your thighs, your waist, your ribs. Like he's memorizing you through possession.

Then, Seoha and Hwimori appear before you. Together. Eyes gleaming, breath caught. Like they’re standing at the altar of something divine. “Let us see you,” Seoha whispers. “Let us remember.”

Hwimori’s fingers tremble as he reaches for your top. He doesn’t yank—it’s a slow peel, a delicate unveiling. Inch by inch, until the fabric slips over your head and falls away, leaving you bare to their ravenous eyes.

The five demons before you stare, breathing ragged. Like the sight of your bare skin was the ruin they’ve been waiting for. Seoha’s breath catches. You hear Abby– Haneul growl, deep and wanting at the sight of you in your bra and skirt. His eyes dart to the swell of your cleavage and he almost comes undone at the sight. Hwimori swears under his breath. “Fucking… god.”

Seoha presses a kiss to your stomach, eyes fluttering shut like he's praying. “You are not real,” he murmurs. “You’re a vision. A fever dream we bled centuries to see again.”

You moan at the feel of his warm lips on your skin. His kisses trail upwards, closer and closer to the treasure hidden beneath your undergarments. And then, Jinu’s hands unclasp your bra from behind, Hwimori peeling it off like a present he’s been waiting to open. And the sight of you has them moaning.

“Fuck,” Seoha hisses. Haneul lets out a growl, eyes flashing a bright topaz. Seoha continues his trail upwards on your body. “So. Fucking. Beautiful.” he says between kisses. The first right above your navel, one after the other before he places a kiss in between your breasts. His lips burn and ignite a burning desire within you. Every kiss sends shock waves down to your core. 

You whimper and Hwimori’s hands shake as they frame your waist. “If you were a god,” he breathes, “I’d burn every temple. Just to build one with your body as the altar.”

Behind you, Jinu’s breath hitches. His voice is ruined silk. “You’ve always been sacred. Ours. No matter the body. No matter the time.”

Then— Seungho. He’s standing in front of you. A prince bowed low, madness glinting in his eyes. He grabs your face—not gently, not cruelly, but desperately, like he’ll break apart if he doesn’t feel you, doesn’t anchor himself in you. And then he kisses you.

It’s not a kiss—it’s an onslaught. Ruinous. Ravaging. A soul-shattering collision of everything he’s buried for lifetimes. Your lips open on a moan as his mouth consumes yours, tongue sliding in with wild, aching hunger. One hand fists your breast like he’s claiming it. His thumb rolls over your nipple, and you sob into his kiss.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he groans, dragging his lips down your throat, biting softly, worshipping harsh. “I’d skin the world for the way you just breathe. I’ll never let you go. No one else sees you like this. No one else gets to.”

You’re shaking. Overheated. Undone.

“You’re too much,” you whisper. 

He licks into your mouth like he wants to taste your heart. “And still not fucking enough.”

They press in like a tide, and there’s nowhere to run. Jinu’s mouth turns feverish at your neck. Seoha’s hands slide up your bare legs, slow and cruel before palming your left breast. A moan escapes you at the feel of his touch. Hwimori’s lips latch to your collarbone before you feel his shaky hand palm your right breast. He growls into your skin.  Haneul licks a stripe across your inner thigh and moans, as if he’s the one unraveling.

“You don’t know what you’ve done to us,” Haneul murmurs. “You’ve been remaking us since the first time you smiled.”

The need in the room is feral. Clawing. Endless. You’re surrounded by five demons. And every one of them is starved for you. And this time… You want to be devoured.

A whimper breaks from your throat—high, needy—as Seoha and Hwimori’s breath ghosts over your chest. Their mouths hover, eyes dark with reverence and hunger, like twin beasts starving at the altar of your skin. And then—they descend.

Their mouths find your nipples in perfect, possessive sync, hot and wet, and you cry out, body arching, writhing, trembling. Their tongues roll over your peaks like they were tasting something forbidden, something sacred. You’ve never felt like this before—like your skin was stitched from lightning and silk, like your blood was boiling gold.

Your wrists are pinned to the bed beside you, held down by their hands like you might vanish if they loosened their grip. Like they need to anchor you. Jinu trails his tongue down your neck, slow and searing, like he’s branding you in fire. His breath is ragged, teeth grazing flesh. “You taste like every lifetime I’ve lost you in,” he growls into your skin. “Let me have you in this one.”

Then—hands spread your legs. Large. Firm. Commanding. You look down, dazed, breath caught—and freeze. Haneul. Between your thighs.

His gaze is molten obsidian, locked onto yours like a wolf scenting blood. Starved. Dangerous. Worshipful. You flinch as his breath grazes your inner thigh—and your skirt is slowly pushed up, inch by inch, exposing the soft lace beneath.

He groans, low and sinful. “Fuck,” he mutters, dragging his nose up your panties with a slow inhale that shudders through him. “Did you wear these for us, baby? For me?”

You barely manage a breath, your lips parting in a gasp—but then Seoha nips at your nipple, gently, and your whole body jolts. Jinu grips your chin hard, angling your face toward him. His mouth touches your ear—hot, demanding, coaxing. “Answer him, pretty girl.”

You squirm in his grasp. “Y-Yes,” you squeak.

But Haneul doesn’t let you catch your breath. He’s inhaling you like you’re the last thing left in the world worth breathing. His nose runs the length of your heat, eyes fluttering closed like he’s praying. Like he’s already drunk off you. “That’s all well and good, baby,” he murmurs darkly, voice barely human, “but you won’t miss these—will you?”

Before you can speak, the lace is torn from your body with a savage rip. A sound that echoes louder than it should. You gasp, instinctively trying to close your legs—but Hwimori and Seoha’s grip tightens. Jinu tsks from behind, shaking his head like you’ve disappointed him.

“You don’t hide from us,” he whispers. “Not anymore.”

Their eyes devour you. Hunger. Possession. Worship. You are no longer a girl laid bare. You are the offering. 

Haneul kisses the inner corner of your thigh, then the other—soft, teasing, deadly.

“Wait—mmph!” You try to protest, but Jinu swallows your words with a kiss—ferocious and deep, a growl curling in his throat. His tongue commands yours like he’s claiming territory. Like your mouth is his. You sob into him as Haneul licks just above your heat, so close it aches. Every nerve in your body is fraying.

“What do you want, baby?” Seoha murmurs against your breast, lips dragging along your sensitive skin, voice thick with devotion and madness. “Say it. Say it so we can give it to you.”

“I—” Your voice catches. You’re panting. Burning. “I don’t know—”

“You do,” Jinu hisses, dragging your face toward the sight of Abby– Haneul hovering just above your center, his tongue already peeking past his lips. “Look at him. Say it.”

Your gaze lifts—and you see Baby- Seungho behind Haneul. Watching. Possessive. Hungry. His eyes blaze red-gold like a god enraged. His jaw clenched. His chest rising and falling like he’s barely holding himself back.

“Beg,” he says.

A single word. A sentence. A vow.

You shatter. “Please,” you whisper, tears brimming in your lashes. “Haneul… I-I need—please. Touch me.”

The groans that erupt around you could bring the heavens crashing down. “Where, baby?” Haneul hums, lips now just a breath from your heat. “Where do you need me?”

“Right there.” Your voice cracks. You don’t even know where it hurts anymore—only that it does. “Please. Just please.” 

And then— The world stops. Because Haneul moves, and you are no longer kissed. You are devoured.

His mouth is merciless, and the first press of his tongue is pure annihilation. Your back arches. Your moan is swallowed by Jinu’s mouth. Your body writhes in chains of touch and teeth and heat and madness. Pleasure surges through you like a wave pulled from lifetimes of longing.

And they don’t stop. Because they’re not done. Because they’ve only just begun to ruin you. And you? You want to drown.

Haneul’s tongue moves like he’s starving—and he is. Not just for the taste of you, but the power in it. The proof that you're real. That this body, this soul, is finally within his grasp again.

“Fuck, she tastes like heaven.” He groans against you. “The closest to heaven we’ll ever get.”

Your legs tremble, twitching against their grip, but they don’t let you move. They couldn’t—wouldn’t—risk you slipping away. Not when you’ve been stolen by time and fate and death before. Not when they’ve only just gotten you back.

Seoha releases your nipple with a slick pop, his mouth swollen, eyes glazed. “She tastes like fate,” he mutters hoarsely, dragging his tongue down the curve of your breast. “And I’m done pretending that I’m not addicted.”

Hwimori presses his lips to your sternum, then your collarbone, then your jaw, each kiss tender and wild, like he’s scent-marking you with his mouth. “I can feel it,” he whispers against your pulse. “Her soul is singing. She wants this.”

Jinu groans low behind you, his arms flexing around your waist like a vice. “Mine,” he growls into your ear, biting the shell of it just enough to make you jolt. “Every sound, every breath, every fucking heartbeat—mine.”

And it’s true.

You feel like you’re splitting apart at the seams, not from pain, but from how much of them is in you—around you—claiming you. It’s more than lust. It’s memory. It’s centuries of starving for something they were never allowed to touch. Until now. Until you.

Your vision blurs as your hips buck, only to be slammed down by Haneul’s grip, his arms anchoring your thighs as he devours you like the world’s on fire and your body is the only thing left worth saving.

You sob. You keen. It’s too much. It’s not enough.

“Fuck—look at her,” Seoha breathes, brushing your hair back to see your face more clearly. “She’s coming apart for us.”

Your eyes flutter open—wet, dazed—and meet Seungho’s. He hasn’t touched you yet. But the way he looks at you from the foot of the bed—like a man possessed, like a god betrayed—makes your entire body clench. His fists are white-knuckled at his sides, holding back from tearing Haneul away just to take his place.

“She’s shaking,” Mystery murmurs, brushing his fingers over your ribs, holding you down as your spine arches.

“She’s remembering,” Jinu rasps. “Her soul… it knows.”

You choke on another moan as pleasure floods you, again and again, rippling like thunder in your veins. Your hands fist the sheets. You forget where you are. Who you are. You only know them. Only know the ache they’ve filled. And the space they’ve ruined. They don’t ask if it’s too much. They want it to be too much.

Because if you’re overwhelmed— You’re theirs.

“You’ll never want anyone else after this,” Haneul growls between licks, his voice muffled against your heat. “We’re gonna ruin you, princess. Ruin you so fucking sweet, you’ll beg to never leave.”

You’re unraveling.

Hands on your skin. Mouths against your chest. Fangs brushing your throat. You don’t even register what Haneul is doing until something firm presses against your soaked folds.

"Let me see how you grip me, baby…" he breathes—voice heavy with possession, like he’s about to step into a cathedral built of flesh and need.

You cry out—head snapping back—when a single finger pushes into your entrance. The intrusion is thick and slow and real, and your body fights to adjust. It burns. It aches. It pleads. Hwimori laces your fingers with his, grounding you, as your thighs twitch. He squeezes your hand hard. “Breathe, baby. You can take it. You were made for us.”

“Oh, fuck,” Haneul groans, and his eyes—his demon eyes—flash topaz and wild, like fire licking up stained glass. “She’s so fucking tight.”

You’re still trying to catch your breath when another finger joins the first—and you keen, hips jolting. You try to twist away, but Jinu grabs your throat, pulling you back against him like a tether snapping taut. “Don’t run, kitten,” he murmurs darkly. “You’ll take what we give you.”

And then the rhythm starts.

Haneul curls his fingers inside you—dragging, pulsing, invading. Your hips buck as the pleasure spikes, sharp and overwhelming. Your walls flutter, helpless to resist. Jinu holds you in place like a living chain, and your legs begin to shake from the sheer intensity.

Seoha and Hwimori groan, their mouths never leaving your chest, sucking and biting, marking you like they need proof that you’re real. That you’re here. That you’re theirs.

“So wet,” Haneul growls, fingers thrusting harder now, deeper, smarter. “Like you’ve been waiting for this.” His fingers curl again—and this time, it shatters you. Your back bows like a bowstring pulled to its limit.

“Oh god—” you cry, trembling violently.

Haneul’s mouth covers your clit, licking with the desperation of a dying man. Worship. Destruction. Hunger. His fingers never slow—each drag a calculated sin. “Found it,” he purrs against your core. “Right there. That’s your weakness, isn’t it, princess? Let me break you open with it.”

Tears spill from your eyes—tears of shock, pleasure, need. Jinu growls and captures your lips, swallowing your sob like a vow. His tongue invades your mouth, rough and wild, as he rocks his hips up into your back—letting you feel the full weight of his desire pressing into your spine.

“She’s close,” Hwimori pants beside you. His voice sounds wrecked. 

And then—you see him. Seungho. A shadow. A storm. A demon forged in ruin. He approaches slowly, and the sight of him knocks the breath from your lungs. His eyes are aflame. The bulge in his pants is obscene, straining. But it’s his expression that makes your pulse spike.

He kneels beside Haneul—silent, deadly. You don’t know what he’s about to do until his hand lifts— And presses down on your lower abdomen. Firm. Unrelenting. The pressure makes you wail.

Your walls clench around Haneul’s fingers like a vice, your thighs locking around his head—but he doesn’t stop. He groans into you, fingers and tongue now in perfect tandem, unrelenting in their devotion to your unraveling.

Seungho watches you. Watches the desperation in your eyes, the tears, the panic, the surrender. “You’ll fall apart for us,” he growls low, pressing down just a fraction more. “We want to watch you break.”

Your fingers claw at Seoha’s forearm and Hwimori’s wrist. You can feel Jinu biting at your neck again. The air is thick with sweat, panting, the sound of your slick echoing with every thrust of Haneul’s fingers.

And then— You detonate.

The coil in your stomach snaps with brutal intensity and you scream—a sound pulled from your soul and carried across centuries. It echoes through the room like prophecy. Your vision whites out. You shatter—like glass caught in the crosswinds of your past lives. Like every moment you were ever separated from them has come rushing back in fire.

You don’t know where your body ends and theirs begin. But you know one thing: You are theirs.

And they will never let you go. Not in this life. Not in the next. Not even in death. 

“Good girl,” Jinu growls into your ear, breath ragged, as your scream fades into a broken, trembling whimper.

“That’s it,” Hwimori whispers, brushing your damp hair back from your face, his forehead pressed gently to your temple. “Come for us, baby. You did so well…”

“You were perfect,” Seoha murmurs, voice velvet-slick and reverent as his lips kiss the trail of tears on your cheeks. “So fucking perfect. That’s our girl.”

“You took it all,” Haneul rasps between your thighs, lips still shining with your release, voice dark and ruined with awe. “Just like that. All for us.”

Their praise wraps around you like silk ribbons. Tethering. Claustrophobic. Divine.

Your body trembles as you sag into Jinu’s arms, heart thundering so hard it hurts. Your vision pulses—blurs at the edges like you’re underwater. And then—

Your eyes flash open. But they’re not the same. The world swims in red. You blink once. Twice. And everything shifts.

Threads.

Crimson threads, glowing, humming—stretching from your chest like living veins of fate. Five of them. Writhing. Pulling. Binding. Each one connects you to the demons who now stare down at you with wide eyes, breath halted. They feel it too. A sharp inhale cuts through the silence like a blade drawn clean from its sheath.

“She’s—” Seoha chokes.

“Her eyes…” Hwimori whispers.

You gasp. You can see the soulbond. You can feel it in your bones—burning, sacred, ancient. As if your blood had been waiting for this moment across lifetimes. It rushes through you like lightning on open water, cracking you apart from the inside.

The bond snaps into place like a lock turning in a door you didn’t know existed. But not all of it. Not completely just yet. You sob, overwhelmed. There’s too much in your chest—devotion, obsession, love. 

The boys surround you instantly, their touches softer now, voices turning worshipful. “You’re glowing,” Jinu breathes, holding you tighter.

“She’s ours,” Haneul says, almost reverently, like he’s speaking a prayer. Seoha cups your face in trembling hands. “You feel it too, don’t you, darling? The bond. The promise. The truth of us.”

“It’s okay,” Seungho soothes, lips brushing your knuckles. “We’re here. We’re not going anywhere. Just breathe.”

But you can’t. It’s all too much. You reach for one of them—any of them—but your fingers tremble too hard. Your vision tunnels. Your mouth opens—but no words come.

The last thing you see is Seungho, standing above you like a shadow cast by the past, eyes wide and haunted. “She’s passing out—”

And then you go still. Your head falls against Jinu’s chest, lashes fluttering shut. The soulbond sings in your blood. And you fall into unconsciousness cradled in the arms of demons who have waited lifetimes to bring you home.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The first thing you feel is warmth. Then pressure. Then breath.

You stir, the world a blur of color and heat—and the steady rhythm of a heartbeat- Strong and steady- surrounding you. You blink through the haze, vision slowly focusing on the soft, amber glow flickering from the room’s sconces, and realize you’re not lying down. You’re in someone’s arms.

Jinu’s.

You’re cradled in his lap, your head tucked beneath his chin, his strong arms wrapped tight around your frame like he’d fused you to him in your sleep. His scent—earth and sandalwood and something darker, ancient—floods your senses. He’s shirtless, and the heat of his bare chest radiates into you.

You blink again. They’re all here.

Seoha was seated at your side, his hand gripping yours like a lifeline. Hwimori, crouched at the edge of the bed, his hair falling forward as he watches you like a silent sentinel. Haneul leans against the wall, fists clenched at his sides, the muscle in his jaw twitching. Seungho is seated at the foot of the bed, elbows on knees, shirt discarded, glowing eyes locked on your face like they’re drinking in every breath you take.

None of them had slept in the two hours you had been unconscious.

“You’re awake,” Jinu breathes, his voice cracking at the edges. His grip tightens possessively. “You scared us.”

Seoha leans closer, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. “Do you remember what happened?”

Hwimori’s eyes flick across your features, searching. “How do you feel?”

You swallow, your voice barely a whisper. “I feel… amazing.”

It’s not a lie. You felt great. As if the bond had healed any fatigue and grogginess. It’s just not the whole truth.

They visibly relax—only slightly. Seungho exhales, rubbing a hand over his face. Haneul’s head drops forward, but his eyes never leave yours. 

“You passed out,” Seoha says softly. “You glowed.”

“You were thrumming with power,” Hwimori adds. “The bond reacted. Too strong, too fast.”

Jinu nuzzles your temple. “Are you sure you’re okay, baby?”

“I am.” You nod to ease their worry. You look down to see that you were draped in someone’s shirt- Haneul’s. But that was the only thing you had on. Your cheeks flush. “Did—did someone…?”

Seoha nods, his expression tender. “We cleaned you. Down there.”

You glance down, embarrassed.

“You were trembling,” Hwimori adds gently. “We just wanted you comfortable.”

A wave of love rolls over you—and something else. That hum again. It’s a strange pull. You look at each of them, your heart stuttering. Shirtless, glowing eyes, all of them so achingly beautiful in the low light. Jinu’s body beneath you is all sharp lines and broad strength. Seoha’s chest rises and falls with quiet restraint, lean and cut like a sculpture. Hwimori’s frame is deceptively strong, his arms lean with muscle and his collarbone dusted with faded marks of tension. Haneul’s muscles are coiled like a predator ready to strike, his arms flexing with each breath. And Seungho—Seungho looks like wrath carved into devotion, the angles of his body rigid with something close to pain.

You’re starting to love them. Every inch. But something is missing. Something tugs at your soul, unfinished. Like you’ve walked through the door, but not stepped inside. You had felt nearly complete a while ago. A euphoric feeling of connection to them as the bond strengthened. But deep inside you knew there was something missing. 

You blink up at them. “Can I… ask you something?”

They tense. “Anything,” Jinu says, voice low.

Your eyes dart to each of them. You’re certain this was it. The missing piece. “I need to see you. All of you. As you really are.”

The silence is immediate. Their gazes darken. Jinu’s arms tense. Seoha’s smile falters. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” Haneul mutters.

Hwimori’s fingers twitch. “We’re not… safe. Not in those forms.”

You shake your head. “Please. I need to. The bond—it’s not whole. Not yet. I can feel it.”

Jinu presses his forehead to yours, a low growl in his throat. “If you’re scared, even for a second—”

“I won’t be.”

You take each of their hands, one by one.

“I want to see you,” you whisper. “All of you. Not just the masks… please.”

Seoha’s jaw clenches. “Even if we look like monsters?”

“You never have.”

Something breaks in them. And then it begins. Shadows ripple. The air thickens as their skin darkens—not into black or red, but a rich, violet-blue hue etched with glowing marks and patterns, sigils carved into flesh like ancient poetry. Amber eyes burn brighter, like lanterns in a storm. Their veins pulse violet. Their presence swells until it chokes the room, not painful—but potent. Electric.

You gasp, tears welling. This is what they’ve been keeping from you? How in the world could they ever think you could despise them?

They’re terrified. Seoha won’t meet your eyes. Jinu looks frozen. Haneul’s teeth are clenched so tight they could shatter. Seungho—your dark blade—his jaw trembles.

You trace the patterns of Jinu- the one closest to you. His eyes flutter shut at the light feel of your fingertips on his face. You marvel at him, at who he truly is. What all of them really were. One by one, you place your palms on their chests, feel the warmth of demon markings, trace them like scripture. You lean forward and press a kiss to Seoha’s throat. To Hwimori’s chest. To Haneul’s ribs. To Seungho’s stomach. To Jinu’s heart.

“You’re beautiful.”

A silence washes over the room as they freeze. Like you’ve said something impossible. Something forbidden. Jinu’s breath catches in his throat. Seoha goes utterly still. Haneul looks away. Hwimori’s shoulders tense. Seungho clenches his jaw so tight you hear it crack.

“You don’t have to lie to us,” Jinu murmurs, almost too softly. “Not about this.”

“We know what we are,” Haneul mutters, eyes fixed on the floor. “We’ve seen the way humans look at us like we’re monsters.”

“We are monsters,” Seungho says hollowly, his amber eyes flickering with something unreadable.

You step forward—heart burning, soul alight. “Then let them call you monsters,” you whisper, voice trembling with truth. “Because if you are, then you’re mine. Every shadow, every scar, every part you were taught to hide—give it to me. I won’t run.”

They stare at you in shock and disbelief. As if your words were too good to be true.

So you prove it. You go to Hwimori first, his demon form trembling under your touch. You lift your fingers to his jaw, brushing over the gleaming marks that curve over his cheek. “You always feel everything I feel. You carry my pain like it’s your own. You’re not a monster, Hwi. You’re my mirror.”

He shudders, eyes wide and glassy. A soft, disbelieving sound escapes him as he clutches your hand to his chest like it’s the only thing tethering him to earth.

Next, you move to Seoha. His body is coiled like he’s ready to run, even as need burns behind his eyes. You press a kiss to the swirling pattern that stretches down his sternum, then another to the hollow of his throat. “You’ve always seen me. You make me feel like every word I say matters. You’re not just a fantasy I want to live in—you’re the truth I want to wake up to.”

He exhales like he’s collapsing, hand gripping your wrist so tightly it almost hurts. But he’s shaking. And in his eyes—hope flickers. Starving and terrified.

You turn to Haneul. He’s still, watching you with guarded hunger. You take his face in your hands, kiss the scarred symbol just beneath his eye. “You protect me like I’m sacred. You always have. Even when it hurts you. This body—these marks—don’t change what you are to me. They just show me what you’d survive for my sake.”

His lips part but no words come. Just breath. Shaking. Desperate. He leans into your palm like a man who’s never been held.

Then—Seungho. You approach him slowly, like he’s an injured beast ready to bolt. But he doesn’t move. You press a kiss to his jaw, to the jagged violet marking there. “I don’t care how cold the world made you. You burn for me. You never stopped burning. And I see it now—in every inch of your skin.”

His head tilts back. His throat bobs with a strangled sound. 

And finally—Jinu. He hasn’t moved. His demon form still and regal like a statue carved from midnight flame. But his eyes—the gold in them is molten. You walk into his arms. Press your lips to the curve of his collarbone, to the streaks that glow over his chest like ribbons of power and pain.

“You’ve always carried the weight of the world, haven’t you?” you whisper. “Even then, you bore it in silence. I know what you think… that you failed me. That you failed your family. That you’re cursed to lead, but never protect.”

Your fingers trace a glowing line that pulses against his heart.

“But you’re wrong.” You look up at him, eyes soft but unrelenting. “You didn’t fail me. You found me. Again and again. And maybe the world worships you now for your voice, your beauty, your power… but I worship you for surviving.”

He exhales shakily. His arms wrap around you like he’s trying to hide you in his skin. “You’re beautiful,” you whisper again, to all of them. “All of you.”

They break. Seoha moans like he’s unraveling. Hwimori buries his face into your neck. Haneul groans like he’s in pain. Seungho whispers your name like a litany, like a curse, like a vow. Jinu cups your face and stares at you like he’s found the meaning of eternity.

The bond thrums—bright and breathless. It pulses between your ribs like sacred fire. And then— They descend. Kisses like oaths. Hands like hunger. Worship like war.

“You’re ours,” Jinu breathes against your jaw, voice cracked with yearning.

“And we’re yours,” Seungho growls into your throat.

“You made us real,” Seoha murmurs into your chest.

“You made us whole,” Haneul says, pressing his lips to your shoulder.

“You chose us,” Hwimori whimpers, holding your waist like you’ll vanish.

Lips map your skin like scripture. Tongues trace every place you’ve ever ached. Teeth leave promises where words would fail. You’ve seen them now. And you’ve never wanted anything more. The crimson threads pulse—harder. Thicker. Glowing with a sacred hunger. And then it hits you. Not just the tenderness. Not just the love.

But heat. Ache. Need. A raw, consuming ache blazes through your gut. Not emotional—carnal. It’s visceral, physical. It crashes into you like lightning. Your knees buckle and your eyes snap open—glowing red again, brighter this time. Like a fire finally given oxygen. “I—” Your voice shatters. A desperate gasp. “I… need—”

They’re on you instantly. A blur of breathless movement. The boys crowd close, drawn to you like moths to flame. Their eyes glow, their skin still alight with markings and pulsing power.

“It’s the bond,” Jinu says, voice low, reverent. His eyes burn. “It’s calling us. You’re feeling all of us now.” Their bare skin brushes yours and it feels like fire. Every graze stokes the need until it’s unbearable—devouring. You clutch at Jinu’s chest, panting. “Please. I need you. All of you. I can’t— I can’t hold it in.”

Growls. Gasps. Groans. The air thickens as hands descend on you once more. “You’re trembling,” Seoha breathes, palm at your ribs. “You ache for us.”

“You want to be filled,” Seungho mutters darkly. “You want us inside you.”

“She’s dripping already,” Haneul grins from the bed’s edge, fangs bared. “Fuck, she was made for us.”

Jinu lifts you effortlessly, laying you down on the bed like a sacred offering. His gaze flicks to the others—and they understand immediately. It would be him first. Of course. The one who made the pact. The one who waited the longest— across lifetimes. The one who sold his soul first to find you again. 

His hands trail up your torso like devotion made flesh. “I knew you in every life, kitten. But this one… this one is ours to claim.” He leans in, capturing your mouth in a kiss that’s sinful—filthy—holy. Then he slowly peels Haneul’s shirt off your frame, eyes devouring every inch of skin you bare to him. He drinks in the sight like it’ll never be enough.

Around you, the boys settle in. Seoha lounges on the desk chair, one hand already palming his bulge through his sweats. Hwimori sits at the edge of the bed, his hand curled tight. Haneul lounges on the couch, eyes locked on you like he might jump at any moment. Seungho stands by the wall, breathing hard, his body tense like a live wire.

You know they’re watching. And it doesn’t shame you. It ignites you. You need them here. All of them. Your voice trembles. “Jinu… please. I— I need you. It burns.”

He strokes your jaw, eyes like amber flame. “Where do you need me, baby?”

“Please,” you whimper, arching. “Touch me. I need you. Everywhere.”

Jinu lets out a low, vicious sound as he kisses you again—this time rough, hungry. His teeth graze your lip. Then he drags his mouth down your throat. Between your breasts. He takes one nipple in his mouth and sucks hard—possessive, almost cruel with need. You cry out, your fingers in his hair. “Jinu—! Please, please—”

He groans against your skin. “You sound so good when you beg.”

“You were always mine,” he growls, trailing kisses down your stomach. “But now? Now you’ll feel it.”

When he spreads your thighs, it’s ravenous. He stares at your glistening mound like it’s the center of the universe. “Say it,” he commands, voice dark. “Say this pussy belongs to me.”

You tremble beneath his hands. “Yours,” you gasp. “It’s yours. All yours.” 

He chuckles—low, dangerous and thrilled. “Good girl.” Then he descends—and devours. Your hips jerk. A scream tears from your throat. His tongue is everywhere—feasting like a man finally let into heaven.

You writhe, fisting your hands into his hair. He groans at the sensation. “Mmm, you were right, Haneul,” he growls between licks. “I could eat this meal every fucking day.”

“Told you,” Haneul grunts from the couch, hand wrapped tight around his cock. “She tastes sweeter than honey.”

“Sweeter than sin,” Seoha adds, his voice wrecked, his pants tented as he strokes himself slowly, eyes never leaving your body. Hwimori leans in, capturing your hand in his and bringing your knuckles to his lips as Jinu continues his relentless onslaught. You’re shaking, drowning.

And then Jinu adds a finger. Then another. You moan—loud, uncontrollable, broken. “So fucking tight,” he hisses. “How the hell are you going to take me, baby?”

You sob, gasping. “Jinu—please—I—”

He doesn’t stop. His tongue laves over your clit. His fingers curl inside you—relentless, wicked, perfect. He eats you like a starving man.

“Such a good girl,” Hwimori whispers.

“She’s going to fall apart again,” Seungho mutters, hand moving faster.

“So close,” you gasp, voice cracking.

“Come for us, baby,” Seoha breathes.

You do. With a cry, you shatter. Eyes glowing crimson, back arching, fists tugging at Jinu’s hair as he moans into your climax and keeps going. He only slows once you’ve ridden out the full shock of it.

Then he kisses up your body—your stomach, your chest, your collarbone—before reaching your throat. “You’re divine like this,” he murmurs against your skin.

“And you’re ready,” Seungho breathes.

You barely have time to catch your breath before Jinu rises above you, sweat-slicked and shirtless, muscles tight with restraint. The sharp planes of his torso glisten under the low, golden light—every ridge and carved hollow painted with glowing demon markings, coiling across his blue-purple skin like ancient scripture. His chest heaves. His abs ripple as he pants, hunger carved into every line of him.

And then— You watch in need as his fingers curl around the waistband of his sweatpants. That massive bulge has haunted your fantasies, but now, as he pulls them down and his length springs free, your breath catches audibly. Your mouth parts in stunned, trembling awe.

He’s huge.

A jolt of nerves crackles through your chest. How is that supposed to fit? Jinu watches your reaction with a quiet, dark satisfaction—like he knew you’d doubt it. 

Around you, the others react. Seoha moves to your side and presses a kiss to your temple, his voice a warm balm laced with obsession. “You were made for us, baby. You were always meant to take him. To take all of us.”

“You’re ours,” Haneul grunts, palming himself shamelessly as he watches. “Every inch of you. We’ll make sure you remember that.”

“You’ll stretch around him,” Seungho mutters, voice hoarse. “You’ll cry, and you’ll beg, and we’ll fill you until you forget anyone else ever existed.”

Hwimori just watches you with wide, trembling eyes—devotion, awe, need burning in their depths.

Jinu doesn’t take his eyes off you. He lifts your thighs onto his forearms, bending over you like a predator staking his claim. Then he leans in and devours your mouth, tongue plunging, hungry and wet. When he breaks the kiss, he whispers, “Just relax, baby. Let me in.”

You nod, breath shaky. He slides his fingers into yours, entwining them, and pins them down beside your head—locking you in, body and soul. “Eyes on me,” he murmurs, amber gaze glowing. “Do you trust me?”

You nod again. Trembling. He pushes forward. Your mouth parts in a soft, shocked gasp. The thick head splits you open slowly, deliciously. Your walls clench instinctively, unsure, overwhelmed. Your nails dig into his hands as you whimper.

“Fuck,” Jinu groans, head dipping, eyes fluttering shut at the first feel of you. “You’re gripping me like you were made for this.”

You gasp, voice shaking. “J-Jinu—”

“I know,” he whispers. “I know, kitten. Just breathe. Let me in.”

The stretch is maddening. Your thighs shake. The pain flares, sharp and real—but there’s want in it. Need. “You’re doing so well, my love,” Seoha calls from the bed’s edge, his voice breaking with emotion.

“So fucking good,” Seungho pants, stroking himself slowly. “Look at her. Taking him like that.”

“Hold her, hyung,” Haneul says. “She’s our girl. She needs this.”

Jinu kisses the corner of your eye as the tears spill. “You can take it. You’re my good girl. You were meant for me.”

You cry out as he presses deeper—so deep. 

“I’m halfway in,” he breathes.

“Halfway?” you rasp, disbelief in your tone.

His groan is animal. “Gripping me like a fucking vice—fuck—how are you this tight?” He thrusts deeper, and you arch, mouth open in a silent scream. His shoulders flex above you, every muscle drawn tight. He leans down, taking your nipple into his mouth again as he rocks forward—finally, finally bottoming out. Both of you moan, trembling. It feels like something ancient has clicked into place. Like puzzle pieces reuniting after centuries.

“You feel…” Jinu groans, nearly choking on the words. “You feel like fucking home.” He kisses your tears away, voice shaking with reverence. “I’ve waited 400 years for this. To claim you. To fill you. You don’t even know how long I’ve suffered for this moment.” He stills inside you, letting you adjust. His kisses trail your cheek and your jaw. You’re trembling beneath him, tears drying on your skin—but the fire inside you burns brighter now.

“I’m going to move, baby.”

You nod, breath catching. “Please.”

He pulls out almost entirely—just the head stretching you—and slams back in. You yelp. Loud. Good heavens for all that is holy. Your head snaps back into the pillows. He groans, jaw clenching, hips working slow and steady. “So wet. So fucking tight. This pussy was made for me.”

Each thrust is deeper, harder. His hips roll with control, with rhythm, with claim. You sob with pleasure. He watches you break—eyes glowing amber, demon markings pulsing along his arms and chest. His control starts to crack. His movements sharpen.

He lets go of your hand and wraps one large hand around your throat—not squeezing, just holding. Possessive. Anchoring. “Mine,” he growls with each thrust. “Mine. Mine. Mine.”

Your nails claw at his back as he devours you from the inside. There’s nothing gentle left. Just raw, desperate need. His hips slam into yours with a deafening slap, one after the other. He owns you. Body, soul, and destiny.

The pressure in your belly coils tighter. A fire rising. “J-Jinu—” you gasp, barely able to breathe. “I— I’m close—!”

“I know, baby,” he grunts, his pace faltering. Sweat drips from his jaw. “So am I.”

Your hand claws at his wrist as the pleasure builds into agony. The sound of skin slapping, his low groans, your mewls—they fill the room. You’re on the edge. Every thrust of his cock into you feels like a lightning strike of pleasure, striking deep into your bones. It’s all so much. Too much. You shut your eyes tight at the feeling.

“Eyes on me, beautiful,” Jinu growls, forehead pressing to yours, hips pounding into you. “Don’t look away. Watch me while I make you mine.”

You do. You look into those blazing amber eyes, and it breaks you. You scream as your climax shatters through you, your body trembling violently around him. Your walls pulse, clench, milk him. Stars shine at the flutter of your eyelids as you reach your peak.

“Fuck—!” Jinu roars. He thrusts like a madman. Once, twice, and then slams into you one last time—deep—and spills himself inside you.

Hot. Endless. Claiming.

“Take it,” he breathes, his voice shaking with ecstasy and reverence. “Take all of me. You were made for me. Made for me to love. To worship. To fill.”

His hips keep moving, shallow and slow, working every last drop into your womb. “I waited centuries for this,” he groans into your neck, still rocking. “You’re mine. My soul. My everything.” His kisses rain over your cheeks, your eyelids, your lips. You whimper under him, body trembling with aftershocks.

The bond hums between you, molten and eternal. You don’t just feel him inside your body. You feel him in your soul. Jinu’s chest heaves against yours, every inch of his skin pressed to your slick, trembling body. He stays rooted deep inside you, refusing to let even a drop of him spill.

He holds you like he’s trying to imprint his shape into you. His lips find your temple, warm and sweet. “You did so well for me,” he whispers, breath shaky, voice wrecked with love and possessive pride. “Took me so perfectly, just like I knew you would.”

“Fuck…” Haneul’s voice cracks as he fists himself from where he’s leaned against the wall. His topaz eyes bore into you as he spills into his own hand, grunting your name through clenched teeth. “So perfect. So fucking perfect.”

“Always knew you’d be ours,” Seungho pants, His crimson-stained gaze never leaves your face. “Took him like you were born for it. Like your body’s just… ours.”

Jinu presses his forehead to yours. “You’re such a good girl for me… for all of us.” You shiver as he slowly pulls his hips back just a little, still buried in you, just to feel the way your walls tighten instinctively around him again. He groans deep in his chest.

Hwimori purrs, his hands still sticky where he’s come beside you, quiet moans escaping him as he presses his forehead to your shoulder from behind. “You smell like us now… like him. I love it. I love you.”

Seoha grunts softly from the desk chair, hips rolling into his hand one final time before he spills with a hiss. “That face you made when you came—fuck, baby. You’ll break me.”

You smile sleepily, deliriously. Your body aches, your skin glows, and your heart feels heavy in the best way. They were yours, and you’d take them soon. You were claimed. Adored. Bound.

Jinu finally pulls out with a low growl, the thick drag of him from your oversensitive walls making your breath hitch. He watches the mess drip from you with pride, then leans in to press a final kiss to your navel—his palm spread wide over your lower belly like he’s branding you. “My mark,” he murmurs.

Before the emptiness can settle, Hwimori gathers you into his arms like a child’s favorite toy, protective and warm. He cradles you against his chest, seating you between his legs on the bed, your back against his bare torso. He buries his face in your neck and sighs.

Seoha leans in to kiss your temple. “You’re glowing, sweetheart.”

Seungho presses a kiss to your wrist, eyes locked onto your fluttering pulse. “We’ll never let you go now.”

You hear the faucet running in the other room. “Haneul’s drawing you a bath,” Seoha whispers. “We want to take care of you, baby. You gave us everything.”

And just like that, you close your eyes. Wrapped in warm skin, whispers of obsession, and five pairs of eyes that would tear the world apart just to keep you here—where you belong.

TO BE CONTINUED

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A/N: So... I hope you guys enjoyed this! For the ovulating girlies, next chapter will also have smut so each boy gets their fill. Also- pls don't come for me for the breeding stuff- (Wrap it up, folks!) but c'mon, Jinu waited 400 years for this ain't no way he'll use protection lol. Also their obsessive need to claim pours into this need so yeah, I didn't think it necessary. BUT IRL PLS WRAP IT UP IF U CAN SAFETY FIRST. 400 years this demon has been celibate so...

Let me know if you guys enjoyed this! Next chapter has smut but also intimate fluff and the plot rolls again as well.

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[ladysaja]

The Crimson Pact | Part 7

Characterizations | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 8

SoulBond!AU

Pairings: Yandere!Saja Boys x F!Reader

Synopsis: You were never supposed to remember them.

Four hundred years ago, a pact was made—a blood-soaked bond tying five demons to one human soul: yours.

They’ve waited lifetimes for your reincarnation, cursed with obsession, tethered by fate.

And now that you’ve returned?

They’ll burn the world before they let you go again.

Warnings: Soul bond with the Saja Boys, Yandere themes!, obsessive behavior / possessiveness, romantic psychological tension, mentions of implied past death / reincarnation, intense emotional fixation, yearning, dark romance, hurt/comfort

A/N: Y'all this is it. The chapter I know many of you guys have been WAITING for. I think you know what I mean. I've been DYING to release this one. This part is longer than the others. Be prepared for the emotional whiplash (nothing too angsty - though backstory here is a killer). We're diving into some intense territory now with the bond. And after this chapter, the spice levels will rise. I hope you enjoy this one!

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The Saja boys are all demons.

They are wrath and ruin. Jealousy and death.

And yet, before her, they kneel.

Because she is the Heart. Because her soul is what keeps them from unraveling into true monsters. Because they were bound by her love and her curse.

They don’t just crave her—they depend on her. Without her presence, their minds deteriorate. Their bodies decay. Their hunger becomes unbearable.

Only Y/N’s touch tames the demon inside.

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Names (For those who get confused): Haneul (Abby), Seoha (Romance), Hwimori/Hwi (Mystery)

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Part 7

The Room Where We Return

You dream. Again. But this time, it’s not someone else’s memory. It’s yours.

You stand at the center of nothing and everything—void and light coiling like mist around your feet. Your skin glows, soft and pulsing, like something not entirely human anymore. Something caught between. Your hands are raised. Open. Trembling.

And from your chest—Crimson threads unravel. Smoke-like. Luminous. Alive. Each one stretches into the dark, winding through the void like veins, tugging toward five distant shapes.

Jinu. Haneul. Seoha. Hwimori. Baby.

You can’t see their faces, but you know them—by feeling, by pull, by pain. The threads sink into them, into their chests, hearts, cores. And when they twitch—so do you. You try to breathe. But it’s like those threads are lungs. And they are breath.

One thread pulses. Another burns. Another coils tighter. You try to step back but you can’t.

Because you’re not holding them. They’re holding you. And every line that connects you is both a leash and a lifeline. They glow brighter. You flicker.

And then—

You wake.

Gasping, heart pounding like it’s trying to claw its way out of your ribs. The room is dark. Cool. Quiet. But you aren’t. You press a hand to your chest. It’s still there—that echo. The phantom pull. Like invisible strings wound through your bones.

You sit up slowly, vision swimming, thoughts tangled. It wasn’t just a dream. You felt it. The connection. The weight. The heat of them inside you, wrapped in something more than memory.

Something deeper than even the soulbond. You don’t know the word. But you feel its shape. Not a passenger in their curse—but the anchor. The thing that lets them stay.

You swallow hard. Because that means…  If the threads fray— You all fall.

Theres a faint knock at the door. Then a pause. Not tentative. Not polite. Just… waiting. Like a predator letting you catch your breath. You don’t answer. But the door opens anyway.

He walks in like he owns the air. Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t ask. Just stands in your doorway with that quiet, unsettling stillness that’s somehow louder than shouting.

Baby.

His eyes find you instantly—tucked in bed, arms clutching the sheets, skin damp with sweat. Your breath’s still erratic, your chest still rising too fast. And his jaw tightens. Hard.

“Another dream?” he asks, voice low, flat. Not emotionless. Controlled but barely. You nod slowly. He walks closer. No hesitation. No uncertainty. Just that quiet, unshakeable pull.

He crouches beside the bed, one hand reaching for your wrist—checking your pulse without asking. His fingers are cold. Gentle. But the moment he feels how fast you’re beating, his face darkens. “I’ll destroy whatever’s haunting you,” he murmurs. Not a threat. Not bravado. A fact. A vow. You try to sit up, but he presses you back down with a firm palm on your shoulder. “No,” he says. “Rest. You’re not leaving this bed until your heart stops trying to escape your chest.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I do,” he snaps, finally looking you in the eye. And there it is. The storm. Quiet. Fierce. Controlled only by the thinnest thread.

“You think I don’t feel it?” he hisses, voice shaking now. “Every time you wake up like that. Every time you cry in silence. Every dream you don’t tell us about.” He leans closer, his lips almost at your temple. “I’d burn the world if it meant you slept peacefully.”

Your breath catches. The bond hums—taut, aching. He presses a kiss to your damp hair. Then another. His hand strokes down your arm, fingers splayed possessively over your pulse point like he’s branding you with touch alone.

“Next time,” he says softly, “call for me.” A pause. Then his lips ghost your ear: “I want to be the only thing in your dreams.”

He stands up slowly. Reluctantly. Like every inch he puts between you costs him something real. And before he leaves— He turns at the door, voice a whisper of steel: “If anything ever tries to take you again... it won’t live long enough to try twice.”

The door shuts. But you don’t feel alone. Not with how your pulse still trembles in your throat. Not with how your body still remembers his touch. Not with how, under your skin, every demon who loves you is starting to hum.

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The sky bleeds into dusk, soft violet bruising the clouds above. Crickets stir in the tall grass below. The city glows in the distance. Jinu leans against a stone wall, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently against the gravel slope.

He checks his phone. Then checks the shadows. “She wants to meet and she’s late?” he tsked under his breath, scoffing. “Unbelievable.”

He shifts his weight again, jaw tightening. He hated this. Not the waiting. Not the secret meeting. But the distance. After everything that happened—after the old one, after the way you clung to Haneul like you’d die without him—Jinu didn’t want to be this far from you. Not for a second. Not while the taste of your fear still clung to his tongue like blood.

You should be in his arms. He should’ve been home. “Rumi,” he muttered, eyes narrowing. “You better be worth this.”

A figure appeared beside him, utterly silent. He shrieked. “Shit—” Jinu staggered back, hand over his heart. “You made me come all the way out here just so you could jump-scare me?!”

Rumi didn’t even blink. “Follow me.” She turned on her heel and started walking. He rolled his eyes, pushing off the wall. “Well, I’m thrilled you’re finally ready to talk. Although, I just want to clarify—this is not a date.”

She froze. “Date? No! Ew! What are you talking about?” she snapped.

Jinu held up the invitation she sent him. ‘Save the Date’.

Rumi groaned. “You’re so old. This is strictly a business meeting.”

Jinu sighed in relief. “Okay. Good.”

They walked side-by-side up the gentle slope, wind tugging at Rumi’s hair as the city lights flickered beneath them like stars. Then, finally, she spoke. “What if I told you there’s another way to get your freedom?”

Jinu’s brow raised. “Go on.”

Rumi stopped at the edge of the overlook, gaze on the skyline. “Help us win the idol awards. If Huntrix wins… the Honmoon will be sealed. Permanently. If we do this, Gwi Ma loses. The demons will vanish from this world. I’ll finally be free of these patterns. You’ll be free from him. No more debts. No more whispers in your head. You can stay—on this side, when the Honmoon is sealed.”

She looked at him now. “You could be free, Jinu.”

Jinu stared at her.

And then—he laughed. Short. Bitter. “You really don’t get it,” he said softly. He turned his back to the skyline, folding his arms again. “That’s not going to work. I’m not sealing us away.”

Rumi frowned. “Why not? You’ve always hated serving Gwi Ma—” Realization dawned in her eyes. “It’s her,” she whispered suddenly. “Isn’t it?”

Jinu’s expression hardened. And then—he nodded once. “Yes. It’s her.” His voice dropped into something deeper, darker, reverent and sharp all at once. “Our souls are tied to her. We’re soulbonded. Each of us. A bond deeper than blood or magic or fate.”

“She’s the reason we’re even here—you think we’d risk her? Gwi Ma made it clear: if we betray him, if we interfere with the destruction of the Honmoon, he’ll tear her from the cycle completely. No reincarnation. No afterlife. Just… gone.”

He met Rumi’s eyes now, fierce. “I’m not risking that. I’m not risking her.”

Rumi’s throat bobbed. Her fingers curled, face struck with realization. It made so much sense now. Why she’d seen you around them so often. That look in his eyes… So full of you. So absolute. So—

Familiar.

Is this how my father looked at my mother? she thought. Is this what he felt?

She shook her head. “But what if you didn’t have to lose her? What if—if the bond is strong enough—if she’s still on this side, you could stay too?”

“No,” Jinu snapped. “You don’t get it. Gwi Ma said that she’d be free of the cycle and become eternal. With us. If we allow the Honmoon to seal the way your side wants—she’ll die again. And this time, we won’t know if she’ll ever come back. We won’t know anything.”

“You don’t know that—”

“I do!” His voice cracked. “Because I’ve lost her before. Over and over. And this world doesn’t deserve her. Every time she’s here, it chews her up. Breaks her. And you’re asking me to stand there and let it happen again?”

Rumi flinched. “It’s for the world,” she whispered.

Jinu stepped forward, eyes burning. “She’s my world.” He stated with finality. “She’s ours,” he hissed. “And this world—this cruel, ugly, unworthy place—was never kind to her. Why should we be kind to it?”

Rumi’s breath caught. He turned. “You want your freedom. I get it. I do. But don’t ask me to lose her again just to buy yours.” And then—softer, barely a breath: “I won’t help you seal her away. I won’t let her suffer. Not for your plan. Not for anyone’s.”

He walked off into the dark.

Rumi stood frozen, chest rising too fast. His words echoed in her mind, louder than anything. She’s our world.

‘We’re soulbonded.’

Her hands trembled. Because… she’d read that before. In a letter. A letter she was never supposed to read. A letter written in a desperate, crooked hand. From a demon who once loved a human so much… he tried to build a bridge just to stay.

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The day off begins slow, sun pouring through gauzy curtains, the scent of coffee and toasted rice wafting from the kitchen. You blink sleep from your lashes, stretched beneath a blanket you don’t remember pulling over yourself. You’re not alone—Haneul is lounging on the floor near the couch, shirtless (of course he is) and barefoot, flipping through a magazine upside down like he’s been waiting for you to stir.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he drawls, not looking up. “Dream of me?”

You blink. “Who brought me out here? And No.”

“Baby did an hour ago. And you’re a liar,” he says immediately, grinning. “I felt your bond spike around 3 a.m. That was definitely me.”

You toss a pillow at him, suddenly reminded of your dream last night and Baby’s appearance by your bedside. Haneul catches it easily and stands, walking over and leaning down until his nose brushes your temple.

“If you were anyone else,” he murmurs, “I’d be mad you threw something at me. But you?” His lips graze your jaw. “I’d let you stab me if it meant you looked at me that way again.”

A shiver erupts down your spine at the close proximity. His bare chest and sculpted torso almost too much to handle. You gulp lightly as your eyes shift down. Haneul smirks at the heat in your eyes. “Flustered? Cat got your tongue?”

Your cheeks tinge pink. “Shut up.” You mumble and shove him playfully. He laughs and watches as you shuffle into the kitchen—only to find Hwimori perched on the counter, already eating your cereal. “You’re up,” he says around a mouthful. Then, more softly, “Smell better today.”

“Gee. Thanks.”

He nuzzles his head under your chin anyway. “I didn’t like yesterday. Your scent was wrong. Empty.”

“Glad to be back to normal?”

His grip tightens around your waist. “This is normal. You. Me. Us. Don’t forget it.” Before you can respond, your phone buzzes. 

It's a DM from Zoey: "Where’ve you been hiding? Let’s hang out!”

You hesitate and freeze for a second. This was so random. Why is she messaging you now when you met weeks ago? It was very out of nowhere. Was this a plan to use you to get to the boys?

The boys notice immediately. Jinu walks in, towel drying his hair, shirt loose over his abs. Yum. 

You blink, almost forgetting about the text for a second as you eye his form. Why did he look so good with his hair damp? 

“Problem?”

You shake your head to snap out of it. Bad, Y/N, Bad! You show him the screen without a word. He reads it, jaw ticking. Haneul peers over his shoulder.

“No.”

That’s all he says. Just no. Your lips quirk up in a smirk. You were starting to enjoy their possessive behavior a little too much nowadays. You raise a brow. “Excuse me?”

“You’re not seeing her,” Seoha calls from the hallway as he buttons his cuffs. “Too risky.”

“I can’t even go out with a friend?” You tease, fully knowing they would protest to that.

“She is NOT your friend.” Seoha interjects, eyes in disbelief. “Did you forget what we told you?”

Hwimori growls softly beside you. “No. You stay here. Where we can feel you.”

You cross your arms and fake pout. Seoha narrows his eyes at that. “Fine. If I can’t go out with her… who’s taking me out today?”

That gets their attention.

Seoha grins slyly. “Tricky girl… I volunteer!”

Haneul steps forward. “Absolutely not. She’s mine today.”

“I’m already holding her,” Hwi mumbles.

Jinu sighs like a disappointed king. “You children are embarrassing yourselves.”

You smirk. “Then are you going to take me, your majesty?”

He raises a brow. “You’re lucky I’m weak for you.”

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You end up in the apartment garden, curled up under Jinu’s arm as he introduces you to his demon spirit pets. The first is a massive blue tiger with unsettlingly large eyes and too many teeth.

You squeak. “Why does he look like that?”

“He’s sensitive,” Jinu deadpans.

The tiger blinks slowly… and lays its head in your lap. You freeze. “Oh my god.”

“He likes you,” Jinu murmurs, strangely proud. You release a slow smile as you feel the tiger purr while you scratch behind its ear. “It’s cute.”

Jinu releases a fond smile. The spirits have been impatient as of late, wondering when they’d finally get to meet you. He was worried you’d be scared at first. But as always, you tend to surpass his expectations. 

“You had this big guy as your companion for years and you never show him to me?!” 

“I was afraid you’d be too scared-”

“Scared? Look at him! He’s a little derpy guy- wait, I think I’ll call him that. Derpy.”

“Actually its name is-”

“Derpy! You like that huh?” You coo at the tiger, booping its nose. The tiger rubs his head on your shoulder. Jinu sighs, rubbing his hand over his face. He can’t win. Of all the names… “Haaaa well… I guess your name is Derpy now…” 

Before you, a bird in a hat lands on Derpy’s head. You stare. Its one eye narrows at you, and you almost squeal as two more appear underneath it. You look to Jinu, unsure, and he smiles in encouragement. 

“Does he… sing?”

“No, but he judges.”

The bird tilts its head and lets out a croaky caw. Then it hops onto your shoulder.

“She’s more affectionate with your freaks than she is with us,” Seoha grumbles nearby, arms crossed.

“She warmed up fast,” Haneul mutters. “If only she kissed me that easily.” he says, watching you kiss Derpy’s head multiple times in a row.

“I’ll kiss you never,” you shoot back.

He smirks. “So, later, then?”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. The day continues like that—soft bickering, stolen glances, hands brushing against yours when they pass you a drink, touches that linger just a little too long. Derpy and the bird roam free in the apartment now. Perching on shelves and sleeping in the living room. 

Seoha pulls you aside after lunch, guiding your hand to his chest. “Feel that?” His heart races. “You do that to me.”

You roll your eyes. “You always act like you’re one heartbeat away from writing a death poem.” He grins, teeth sharp, eyes soft. “And you always act like you don’t love it.”

You open your mouth to sass him again, but he leans in, voice brushing your ear. “If I’m dramatic, it’s because loving you feels like a scandal.” His breath fans your skin. “Loud, forbidden… and everyone wants to watch.”

You scoff. “Please. The only scandal here is your ego.”

He smirks—and then swoops in, arms curling around your waist as he litters kisses down your neck, making you squeal and squirm in his hold.

The boys shuffle into the living room, smirking like a pack of troublemakers. Seoha yanks you onto the couch and drapes himself over your lap like a spoiled cat, while Baby flicks through movie titles with deadly focus.

“Seoha, move,” Hwi grumbles. “She’s not a chair.”

“She’s mine,” Seoha mutters, refusing to budge. “And I happen to like being supported emotionally and physically.”

“I’ll support you with my foot,” Baby snaps, flinging a pillow at his head.

Just then, Haneul walks in from the kitchen, balancing three massive bowls of popcorn in his arms like a seasoned soldier. He hands one to you with a kiss to your cheek. “Some popcorn for my little soda pop.”

You wince. “You just shattered the dreams of millions of fans.”

He grins. “Good. Let ‘em cry.”

You’re silent for a moment as the boys get comfortable. A sudden thought enters your head and your hands fidget in your lap, eyes lowered like you’ve just committed a capital crime.

“I…” you whisper, biting your lip dramatically.

Five heads snap in your direction. Seoha straightens so fast, his legs retracting from your lap as he nearly falls off the armrest. “Whats wrong, baby?” 

Hwi perks up by your feet like a cat who heard a thunderclap. “Are you hurt?”

Haneul’s already beside you, crouched low, scanning your body for wounds. “Why are you acting like that? What happened? Tell me.”

Jinu bursts out of the kitchen with a drink in hand like he sprinted an Olympic lap. “Drink this. What’s going on?”

Baby’s the last to speak, voice tight with dread. “If someone made you scared, give me a name. Now.”

You press your lips together and swallow, glancing away. “It’s… pretty serious.”

The room freezes. Seoha’s jaw clenches. “You’re scaring me.”

“She’s scaring me,” Hwi whispers, eyes wide.

“I can fix it,” Haneul says, kneeling beside you. “Whatever it is. Just say the word.”

“I…” You inhale slowly, dramatically. 

“I… don’t drink soda pop.”

Silence.

Complete.

Utter.

Silence.

Jinu blinks. “What?”

Seoha releases a breath of relief. Hwi stares at you in disbelief. Haneul’s shoulders sag, a weight off his shoulders. And Baby… is glaring at you.

You look at them sheepishly. “I… I don’t drink soda…”

Seoha releases a breathy laugh. “I was ready to curse an entire bloodline,” 

“I already drafted a revenge plan for your tears,” Baby says flatly. “Color-coded.”

“What?!” You giggle at their reactions and the expressions on their faces. “Sorry- I-”

Jinu exhales, setting the untouched drink down with eerie calm. “You think this is funny?”

“I mean… yes?” you grin. “A little?”

He smiles. Too gently. “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

Before you can react, a hand grabs your wrist—Seoha pulling you onto his lap with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Time for consequences.”

Oh shit. “I was just—!”

Haneul’s breath brushes your ear. “That lip bite earlier? You wanna play nervous, sweetheart? I’ll give you a reason to tremble.”

Hwi climbs behind you like a shadow, his arms wrapping around your waist. “Make the scared face again. I liked that.”

“Hey, hold on—”

“You like teasing us?” Baby’s voice is low, sharp. “Then take responsibility.”

Jinu sinks to his knees before you, pulling your legs apart slightly to settle between them. “You want attention? You’ve got all of it now.”

Your breath hitches. Seoha kisses the side of your neck, whispering like sin, “Say sorry.”

“I…”

Hwi’s teeth graze your shoulder. “Louder, pretty girl.”

You shudder. “I’m sorry.”

“Hmm.” Baby smirks. “Not sorry enough.”

Your teasing grin is long gone. Your flushed face? Still very much here. Your breath comes in sharp, shallow bursts. Their hands aren’t even really touching you—just fingertips, just breath, just barely brushing your skin—but your body is screaming for more. Heat pools low in your belly as they surround you like wolves, like they can taste the way you ache.

Seoha whispers against your jaw, “You like being toyed with, don’t you?”

Jinu hums against your inner thigh— infuriatingly untouched. “All that fuss for a little joke? You wanted our attention. This is what it feels like, love.”

“Now she’s quiet,” Baby murmurs, fingers tilting your chin up. “Where’d all that teasing go, little pop?”

You can’t answer. Your mouth opens. Closes. Nothing but a whimper. But just when you think you’ll snap, just when your legs tremble and the coil inside you threatens to unravel—

They all pull back. Hands gone. Heat vanished.

Seoha grins and stretches like he just got up from a nap. “Ah. Perfect. Let’s watch that movie.”

You blink. “What?”

Jinu flops onto the couch, remote already in hand. “You wanted popcorn and a film, didn’t you?”

“I—wait—what?”

“Shh.” Baby’s finger presses to your lips with a wicked smile. “Movie’s starting, sweetheart.”

Hwi pulls you closer onto the couch between them like nothing happened, wrapping you up in his arms while your heart still pounds like thunder. Seoha kisses your forehead like a reward, lips lingering just enough to remind you of everything you didn’t get. 

And then slowly, he whispers. “No soda pop for you then.”

Your thighs squeeze together. Your eyes burn holes into the screen. None of them say a word. But all of them know. And they’re smiling.

The movie plays. You try to focus. You really do. But your skin still tingles—memory replaying on a loop like a glitching reel. The way their hands barely touched you. The way they didn’t kiss you, or pull your clothes off, or devour you whole—but could have. And you would’ve let them. 

That realization sits warm and sharp in your chest. If they hadn’t stopped… if they’d kept going… You would’ve gone with it. You wanted to.

Your thighs press together as heat surges again, traitorous and low. You shift slightly on the couch, only for Baby to pull you back against him without a word—tucked between his legs, your back to his chest, his arms coiled possessively around your waist like a seatbelt you didn’t ask for.

You sigh softly. Maybe you did ask for it. In your own way. His breath brushes your ear. You pretend not to shiver. The screen flashes with explosions, dramatic music rising.

You don’t notice the glances. Not at first. The soothing lull of Baby’s warmth and breathing relaxes you through the movie, causing you to briefly close your eyes for a little rest. The plot wasn’t all that interesting…

Jinu. Hwi. Haneul. Even Seoha over his shoulder from the kitchen (where he’d gone to start preparing dinner)—stealing peeks at you between scenes.

Because somewhere during the movie, your skirt inched higher. And your panties—lace-trimmed and sinfully soft—peek just under the hem. You’re oblivious, shifting sleepily, too flustered by your own thoughts. But the boys? They’re practically feral.

Hwi’s whisper is half-growl: “So… we’ve been staring at her bum for 30 minutes now…”

“Thirty-five,” Haneul mutters darkly.

“Perverts!” Seoha calls from the kitchen, though his voice is far too amused.

“I’m not looking,” Jinu says without turning away. “I’m studying.”

“You’re the worst one,” Hwi replies.

Eventually, the credits roll. Jinu and Seoha disappear into the kitchen with the clatter of pots and sizzling pans. The smell of spice and garlic fills the air. But Baby doesn’t move. Neither do you. You’ve fallen asleep like that—warm, safe, curled up in his arms.

Hwi leans down and pokes your calf. “Dinner.”

Baby growls. Not even looking at him.

“She has to eat,” Haneul tries.

Baby just tightens his grip.

“She’s hibernating in your lap, not dying,” Seoha calls over his shoulder.

Still—no dice. You finally blink awake, lips parted, dazed. And Baby’s face is the first thing you see. Eyes dark. Expression unreadable. 

He utters, voice low, but eyes solely trained on your face. Piercing. “Dinner’s ready.”

You nod slowly, but something in his gaze pins you down harder than his arms. There’s heat there. You swallow hard. “Okay.”

But you don’t move right away. And neither does he. Because even now—after all their teasing, all your games—he looks at you like he’s still starving. And this time?

You’re not sure you want him to stop.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Dinner is loud, as usual. They’re all gathered at the table—Haneul loading your plate without asking, Hwi curled at your side again like a cat waiting for scraps, Seoha arguing with Jinu about spice levels, and Baby quietly stealing bites from your plate like it belongs to him.

You’re halfway through chewing a piece of tteok-bokki when Jinu sets his chopsticks down. “We should move you to your room tonight.”

You blink. “My room?”

He nods. “The one we made for you. Next to ours.”

“We thought you’d want space,” Seoha says, brushing a thumb along your wrist. “But... it’s yours. It always was.”

Hwi’s voice is soft. “It’s closer. Safer.”

“More comfortable,” Haneul adds quickly, gaze unreadable.

“More ours,” Baby finishes, not looking away from you.

You chew slowly, the bite suddenly hard to swallow. Your heart thuds in your chest, soft and fast. They want you near. Not just sleeping in a guest room anymore. Not just a visitor in their apartment. This isn’t about logistics. It’s about belonging.

You glance at each of them—their expectant eyes, the way they lean in slightly like they’re scared you’ll say no.

And for a second, you wonder: Am I ready? To sleep so close to them? To share space. Trust. Intimacy. To accept what you already feel growing between you and these demons who have haunted your soul across centuries? The answer comes quietly.

Yes.

Because they love you. They love you like fire, like gravity, like fate. And you—you're starting to love them too.

“Okay,” you say.

The reaction is immediate. Hwi perks up like a puppy. Haneul grins, wild and bright. Jinu exhales like he’s been holding his breath since the war. Seoha smirks like he already knew. And Baby—Baby’s hand finds yours under the table and squeezes so tight it almost hurts.

They don’t wait. Dinner finishes in a blur, and before you know it, Baby is tugging you gently by the hand, leading you down the hallway. He doesn’t say anything. Just looks over his shoulder at you like he’s afraid this is a dream.

He opens the door. And you gasp. The room is… yours. But also, theirs.

The walls are a soft, warm gray with rich jewel-toned accents. There’s a massive window with gauzy curtains that let in moonlight, and on the far wall: a mural. A hand-painted scene of a mountaintop at dusk, a crescent moon hanging low over a silver lake.

Bookshelves line one wall—half empty, half filled with things they know you love. Notebooks. Art supplies. A sketch of you in a previous life curled up with a tiger. A pressed flower under glass. A faded drawing in childlike lines of a fox with wide, soft eyes.

The bed is huge. Obscenely so. More like a nest than a piece of furniture—draped in plush throws and layered blankets in varying textures. You spot a velvet pillow shaped like a moon, and a silky scarf you once lost… here now, tucked neatly on the edge like it never left.

A soft woven tapestry hangs above the headboard: the symbol of the Saja. Your fingers hover over it.

“They helped,” Baby murmurs. “All of us.” He points. The desk—minimal and clean, with a small crystal inlaid in the center. A moonstone. That was Jinu’s.

The warm-toned blanket with rough stitching? That’s from Haneul. It looks handmade. Because it is.

The incense burner shaped like a curled fox? Hwimori’s, of course. It smells faintly like the pine forests of a memory you can’t quite place.

And the mirror beside the wardrobe—an antique, silver-framed piece that glows softly under the light—was picked by Seoha. He left a note stuck in the corner:

So you can admire the most dangerous creature in this house.

You touch the edge of the bed. It feels like home. “I… don’t know what to say,” you whisper. 

Baby leans against the wall, watching you. His voice is low. “You don’t have to say anything. Just stay.”

A soft smile ghosts your lips and the five demons look at you with so much love, awe, and wonder. You loved your room. It had little pieces of them and everything you were to them through all your lives. It felt like you had finally come home. 

“Okay.” You breathe, looking up at their hopeful gazes. “I’ll move in tonight.”

Jinu smiled bright. “You- you like it?”  His eyes widen when your arms drape around his shoulders, like he doesn’t believe you're real.

“I love it,” you say again, softer this time. “It’s got bits and pieces of all of you.”

His breath hitches. For a moment, he doesn't move. Then—slowly, carefully—he wraps his arms around your waist, holding you like you’re fragile silk. His forehead presses to yours. “We waited,” he whispers. “Through everything. Every life. Every mistake. Every death.”

You smile, close, so close. And then you kiss his cheek. It’s light. Soft. Barely a brush of your lips. But Jinu goes still like he’s been struck by lightning. “Oh,” he exhales, voice wrecked.

The next second, he’s not the only one holding you. Hwimori curls against your side, hands wrapped tight around your waist, burying his nose in your neck. “She kissed him,” he breathes. “I want one too.”

Haneul’s hand lifts your wrist and he kisses your palm, then each fingertip with slow, deliberate presses of his mouth. “You like pieces of us, angel?” he murmurs. “I want you to have every piece. Every part.”

Seoha appears at your other side, tilting your chin gently with two fingers. “You shouldn’t say things like that, my love,” he purrs. “We might get addicted to hearing them.” He kisses your temple. Then your jaw. Then your nose, with a grin. “Let’s call it a blessing.”

“Or a curse,” Baby mutters—but he’s already pressing a kiss to the top of your head, arms locking around you from behind. “Don’t care. She’s home now.”

The air shifts. Warmer. Tighter. You’re cradled between them all—arms, hands, mouths pressing into every inch of bare skin they can reach without overwhelming you. Their touches aren’t frantic or rushed. It’s worshipful. Steady. Like this is something sacred.

Because it is. Because you said yes. You said home. You whisper, “I didn’t know I could feel like this.”

Seoha hums. “Safe?”

“No,” you say. “Wanted.”

That stops them. Jinu is the first to speak, voice low and hoarse. “You’re not wanted, sweetheart.”

You blink. He smiles against your cheek. “You’re everything.”

That warms your heart in more ways than one. You smile brightly. “Well, I’ll need a bit of help moving my stuff-”

“Say no more, baby. We’ll grab your things now.” Haneul beams. They shuffle out of the room, eager to get you settled as fast as they can. 

Baby stays, arms wrapped around you from behind with his eyes closed. Like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

You look at him and smile slightly. “Your room’s near, right?”

He nods. “Across the hall.”

“Can I see it?”

He pauses then pushes off you and gestures for you to follow. You walk into the darkened hallway, still holding his hand. And when he opens the door to his room— The air changes.

Baby's room is a hush of shadow and memory. The air hangs thick with sandalwood and something older, bitter, like scorched ink. No clutter. No warmth. Just walls steeped in silence. The kind of silence that feels alive.

The bed is enormous, like yours, but colder somehow. Sheets the color of bruises. Pillows perfectly in place. No folds. No softness. Not even a book by the bedside. It feels like a tomb. But it has pieces of you in it.

You step inside and the temperature shifts. This isn’t a bedroom. It’s a reliquary. A war memorial. A shrine.

Your gaze falls to a drawing mounted in a blackwood frame. You.

Rendered in harsh, reverent strokes. Hair pinned in the style of old court, gaze lowered in modesty. Regal. Fragile. Distant. You walk toward it. "Did you draw this?"

"Etched it," Baby replies from behind you. "With a blade."

You turn slowly. He’s still by the door, like coming in too far would break something. "After you died," he adds, voice flat.

There’s a long pause. Your eyes catch on something else—a lacquered box beneath the portrait. A ceremonial sword cracked down the middle. A ribbon, blood-stiffened and sealed in glass. And half-tucked under silk: a golden hairpin.

You reach for it.

"Don’t touch that." The words are quiet. But sharp enough to slice bone. He’s in front of you before you blink. His hand wraps around your wrist, not hurting, not tight. But trembling. He lets go like your skin scalded him.

"She wore that," he murmurs. "You wore that. The day you were taken from me."

You don’t speak. The air feels thick. Sacred. Your trembling hands brush his cheek and he leans into it like a flower to the sun.

"Tell me," you say.

He exhales and hesitates. Eyes pained. 

“Tell me. Please."

He looks at you like you’re a ghost. A sharp inhale, and then he begins. 

"I was the Emperor’s blade," he says, each word carefully unsheathed. "Born to a house that trained ghosts into men. I was a child when they first made me kneel in blood. By thirteen, they called me the Ash Blade."

He looks up. Eyes distant. "I executed ministers before I knew how to write my own name. I watched heads roll and learned silence was safety."

You sit down on the bed, legs tucked beneath you. He stays standing, hands clenched at his sides. "And then you came."

You lift your head. "The concubine from the South. Sent to seal a war with a smile. Everyone called you fragile. An ornament. A prize. But you weren’t. You had teeth. You saw everything." His voice cracks. "You saw me."

The silence between you is deafening. "You bowed to him," he whispers. "...The Emperor,” He spits the words out like poison in his mouth. “But you smiled at me. A smile you never gave him. Not once." 

His hand hovers near his chest, like the memory of it still hurts. "I never knew how to want. They trained it out of me. But then I needed you. And I didn’t even know what to call it."

You stand. "You called it love." His head tilts toward you like the word itself is too heavy to hold.

"They whispered we touched," he murmurs. "That you were carrying a traitor’s child. The Emperor grew distant. Then cold. Then...”

His voice drops. "He asked me to prove my loyalty."

You already know. But you need to hear it. "How?"

He looks you in the eye. "He ordered me to kill you."

Your stomach lurches.

"I told him no."

A breath. The world trembles.

"The first time I disobeyed... was for you."

You press your hand to your mouth.

"He called you defiled. He pulled the sword himself. I didn’t have time to react. You were reaching for me—"

He falls to his knees. "I held you. I pressed on the wound. I begged you to stay. You... you said my name. Not his."

Tears sting your eyes. Baby, the Ash Blade. The demon who was always first to ruin anything that dared to speak or touch you, was kneeling before you like a blade shattered. Broken. He choked on his next words: "I was soaked in your blood. The guards came. They thought I was trying to finish you. I killed them all. Every last one."

He looks up at you, hollow. "I carried you to the inner sanctum. The palace was burning. I laid you down and waited for the flames to take me. But they didn’t."

You kneel in front of him. "I made a deal that night," he whispers. "To never forget your voice. To find you again, no matter the cost." His breath shakes. "They told me I was cursed. Born to follow. Born to obey. And for years I did. I killed for kings. Slept in blood. Wore silence like a second skin. But the moment you smiled at me… I knew." His voice cracks. "I knew I would burn it all. And I did. For you."

Your lip trembles as he continues, eyes never leaving yours. "You were meant to be a pawn. A gift to the king. But you looked at me like I was more than a sword. You called me… human. That was my undoing." He clenches his fist. "You died calling my name. And I—" he swallows the words like poison. "I couldn’t save you."

His shoulders quake. "They said you were spoiled. That a shadow like me defiled something meant to be pure. The Emperor… he was the last one I killed. Not for revenge. But for taking you from me."

The silence pulses between you. Then— His hand moves. Slowly. His fingers graze the side of your neck… and wrap around your throat. Not tight. But firm. Possessive. He pulls you in until your lips are just a breath apart. His eyes shine crimson—wet with grief, wild with hunger.

"You’re mine," he breathes, voice shaking. "Do you hear me? You were always mine. From the moment I first saw you. You are not fate’s. You are not the emperor’s. You’re mine." A tear slips from his cheek and lands on yours. "I don’t trust this world. I don’t trust time. I don’t trust anything that isn’t my hands on your skin."

You gasp, body trembling as his other arm snakes around your waist, crushing you to him. "I won’t lose you again. I’d kill every god who tries to take you. I’ll tear this world to ash. I’ll carve out a future with your name on it and slit the throat of anything that threatens it."

"Baby…"

His breath catches.

“I’m not… that,” he murmurs. “My name… the one you called out before you left me… it was Seungho.”

It hits like thunder in your chest. Something sacred. Ancient. Yours. “Seungho,” you whisper.

The name tears through centuries. And he breaks. His breath catches—like he’s been punched in the lungs by time itself. His hand tightens around your throat—not to hurt, but to hold, to claim, to anchor himself in the moment he never believed he'd get. The moment the past bends, and fate surrenders. You grip his wrist, your pulse thudding beneath his fingers.

“Say it again,” he breathes. It’s not a plea. It’s a command stitched in agony. His voice trembles like he’s shaking loose from death itself.

“Seungho,” you whisper again, softer this time.

And that’s all it takes. A guttural sound rips from his throat—half-sob, half-snarl. His forehead falls against yours, breath shaking, teeth bared like a starving animal who’s finally found what he lost. He doesn’t ask if you’re his. You are. You always were.

He growls, low and dangerous, voice coiling like smoke against your ear. “You said my name. And now the world can burn. I don’t care. I don’t care about gods or rules or whatever fucking fate tried to take you from me. Say it again, and I swear I’ll never let you go. Not even in death.”

Your breath hitches. Your chest heaves. “I remember you,” you whisper. “And I’m not letting go either.”

Then he kisses you. Not soft. Not slow. Not careful. It’s carnage. It’s ruin wrapped in silk, obsession carved into the shape of a mouth. He devours you like you’re a secret he’s kept for centuries. Like every kiss is a scream of defiance against the world that took you from him. His lips bruise, worship, burn.

His hand cradles your throat like it’s his only possession. His other wrapped around your back, dragging you into him, into the storm, into the part of him that never stopped bleeding. “You said my name,” he murmurs again between kisses, like he can’t stop saying it now that it’s real. “You saw me. You chose me. You’re here.”

You nod, lips trembling, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I’ve always been yours.”

He groans—like that vow split something inside him wide open. He bites your ear. Kisses down your jaw. “You are mine. You belong in my arms. In my bed. In my eternity. Mine to worship. Mine to break. Mine to protect until the stars die.”

He presses you to his chest, heart pounding so violently you feel it against your ribs. You don’t fall. Not this time. Because he never let go. And he never will. Not again.

Not Seungho. Not the boy raised to kill— But the demon who was reborn just to love you.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

You and Seungho stay there, folded into each other like the aftermath of a storm. The quiet between you is thick with heat and memory. His fingers never leave your skin—tracing your spine, your throat, your face, like he’s memorizing you all over again. His lips press to your temple, your cheekbone, the corner of your mouth. Again and again.

Like prayer. Like penance. Like addiction. You whisper his name once more. "Seungho."

His breath catches. His lashes flutter against your skin. And though his hands still tremble, his heart begins to steady. You kiss once more—slower this time, but no less desperate. Then another. And another. Until finally… he exhales, forehead resting against yours. “I’m okay now,” he murmurs. “Let’s go back.”

You nod. He intertwines your fingers with his and leads you back to your room. But the moment the door opens—You freeze.

They’re waiting. The others.

Jinu. Seoha. Haneul. Hwimori.

All four of them—spread across your bed, your window ledge, the curve of your couch. Shadows drape their forms like cloaks, but there’s no hiding the glow of their eyes. Amber. Gold. Molten. Unholy. Their gazes hit you like fire. Not angry. Not jealous. Just… hungry.

No words are spoken. Because they felt it. The shift. The moment your bond with Seungho deepened. That sacred pull, tugging taut through the thread that links you all. The soulbond—fuller now. Almost complete. You’re radiant. Alive. Glowing like something divine.

And they are starving.

Their gazes trail your body like it’s wrapped in silk and sin. Like they could tear it open just to drink what’s inside. Jinu’s jaw tightens. Seoha’s smile is too sharp. Haneul’s fingers twitch like they’re resisting the urge to grab. Hwimori tilts his head, his pupils blown wide, mouth parted in a soft, animalistic sound that borders on a purr.

Seungho releases your hand. He steps back like offering you up. Or daring them. “She’s here,” he says softly. And it’s the end of restraint.

Jinu rises first, slow and deliberate, like a beast uncoiling from a throne. He walks toward you with a look that makes your knees weak—like he’s waited too long, suffered too much. His voice, when he speaks, is low and reverent.

“Our girl.”

The room seems to pulse around you. The bond sings. A note of desire so thick you could drown in it. Seoha grins lazily, eyes burning. “Don’t run now. You won’t make it far.”

“Wouldn’t want to,” you whisper.

Hwimori is beside you in seconds, arms circling your waist from behind, his breath hot on your neck. “You feel it too, don’t you? It’s almost done. Almost whole. We’re almost one.”

You nod, dazed, body humming with the truth of it. Haneul’s knuckles brush your jaw, lifting your face to meet his. His voice is a promise—and a threat. “We’ve been patient.”

Jinu leans in, lips grazing your ear. “No more waiting.”

They crowd closer. No touches yet. Just heat. Just intention. But it’s enough to set you ablaze. You don’t know who moans first—you or one of them. But it echoes. And you realize—

You’re surrounded by five demons. And all of them are about to lose control.

TO BE CONTINUED

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A/N: Mwahahahaha!! I think you all know what comes next. ;) I wanted to make Baby's backstory tragic. It fits best with how his character is with you and why he is the way he is. For his name, I decided on Seungho. Seung- “to bear, to inherit” + Ho -“vast, grand, overwhelming” I think it fits best because it reflects someone who carries deep burdens (like obedience, guilt, love). "Seungho" also sounds noble, quiet, and heavy with legacy—just like him, and I think it's perfect for a man who inherited centuries of silence and finally broke for love.

Let me know if you guys enjoyed this chapter! Next one is going to be spicy but it might take a bit more time to write as I don't usually write a lot of smut. I need time to etch the line between love and filth (lol). But thank you for reading as always! Comment, Reblog, and Like if you enjoyed it - I love seeing what you guys think!

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[ladysaja]

The Crimson Pact | Part 6

Characterizations | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 7 | Part 8

SoulBond!AU

Pairings: Yandere!Saja Boys x F!Reader

Synopsis: You were never supposed to remember them.

Four hundred years ago, a pact was made—a blood-soaked bond tying five demons to one human soul: yours.

They’ve waited lifetimes for your reincarnation, cursed with obsession, tethered by fate.

And now that you’ve returned?

They’ll burn the world before they let you go again.

Warnings: Soul bond with the Saja Boys, Yandere themes!, obsessive behavior / possessiveness, romantic psychological tension, mentions of implied past death / reincarnation, intense emotional fixation, yearning, dark romance, hurt/comfort

A/N: Thank you all for reading the Crimson Pact! Here's another update that gets the plot rolling. :) I tried to tag everyone I could, but I also know tumblr only allows like 50 or so- regardless I still tried so I hope it works!

───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

The Saja boys are all demons.

They are wrath and ruin. Jealousy and death.

And yet, before her, they kneel.

Because she is the Heart. Because her soul is what keeps them from unraveling into true monsters. Because they were bound by her love and her curse.

They don’t just crave her—they depend on her. Without her presence, their minds deteriorate. Their bodies decay. Their hunger becomes unbearable.

Only Y/N’s touch tames the demon inside.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Part 6:

Where the Bond Burns

Darkness wraps around you like a heartbeat. Then comes the fire. Not heat—but memory.  It floods your mind in violent waves. Too vivid to be a dream. Too tender to be lies. Too painful to be anything but real.

Smoke. Screams. Blood in the dirt. You're barefoot, standing in the center of a razed village, the winter wind biting at your cheeks. Charred thatch and broken beams litter the ground around you, glowing red with the last embers of a fire that’s stolen everything.

“Haneul!” You don’t think—you remember. His name rips from your chest.

You see him ahead—taller, broader, armor torn and covered in soot. His blade drips crimson. His expression is hollow. Around him: corpses. Bandits. Soldiers. Villagers. Men he once fought alongside. Men who dared to touch you. He turns—his eyes blazing.

“Haneul!” you call again, running to him. But someone yanks you back.

“Get her away from him—he’s cursed!”

You scream. Thrash. Soldiers hold you fast. Haneul sees it. The way you’re dragged. The way your arm twists in their grip. His scream splits the sky. “Don’t touch her!” he roars. “She’s mine!”

His sword flashes. You try to break free—but they overpower you. Your last memory of that life is his voice breaking through flame. His face wild, streaked in blood and grief.

“She’s mine!”

The village dissolves. And now—

A silk-draped room. It’s evening. You're in a candlelit room now—pillows, gauze curtains, perfume in the air. Your body sinks into cushions as laughter spills from your lips. A hand brushes your hair behind your ear, fingertips lingering.

“Seoha,” you whisper, dizzy on love. He’s beside you. Shirt loose. Mouth soft with affection. He kisses the inside of your wrist, slow and lingering.

“Run away with me,” he says, voice low. “We’ll vanish. Just us. You love me more than this... don’t you?”

Your smile fades. Your heart aches. “I can’t,” you breathe, trembling. “My family—my name—”

His expression cracks like porcelain. You reach for him, frantic, already regretting the words—but he pulls back. Stands. Shadows crawl across his face. His eyes are wounded. Distant.

You feel the air change. The soft warmth turns bitter. Cold. The candles gutter out.

The world shifts, vanishes like smoke and you feel the biting cold of the ground beneath you. Your body lies still on the floor, draped in bridal silk. Pale. Fragile. Your throat marked by red, too much red. Throat slit. A flower wilted before bloom.

Seoha is bent over you, hands shaking, blood on his mouth from where he tried to kiss you awake. He sobs—not loudly. Not like a man. But like something primal breaking apart. “No…” he chokes. “No, please. You promised me. You were mine. You chose me—”

He clutches you tighter, his tears slip onto your skin—silent, shuddering, like confessions too late. His grip turns bruising. Desperate. Like if he holds you hard enough, time might rewind. Like the blood staining your silk will fade.

But it doesn't.

The room stays still. Too still. The soft rustle of curtains. The faint clink of ornaments. A life continuing… without you in it. He rocks you in his arms. Once. Twice.

"Wake up," he whispers. "You said you loved me." Your head doesn’t tilt. Your lashes don’t flutter. "You said you were mine."

His breath hitches. The world doesn't burn—but something deeper does… inside him. A split down the center of his soul. He presses his mouth to yours—one last time. Still, he holds you. Still, he doesn't let go. Not even when your body cools beneath him.

You wake with a sound caught in your throat. A gasp. A sob. A name—no, two names—

“Seoha…” “Haneul—”

You jolt upright. The world is red. Not fire, not blood, but something deeper. Your vision is soaked in crimson and grief. The aftershock of lives you didn’t live—lives you lost. Your chest heaves like something’s been torn from it. Your ribs ache from a scream that never made it out. Your heart heavy with so much pain.

Next to you, there’s movement—fast, frantic. Romance—Seoha—bolts upright, his hand catching your arm before you can tip forward and clutching you to his chest. “Y/N—” His voice is wrecked. “What did you see? Tell me—did something happen? Tell me baby-”

He’s already cupping your face, thumbs trembling against your cheeks. “Please say something. Please. You’re scaring me—”

But you can’t speak. The grief is too big. The pain is too old. Your lip wobbles. Then the doors burst open like a dam breaking. Haneul arrives first, barefoot, breathless, eyes blazing with panic. Jinu right behind him, followed by Baby and Mystery, all drawn by the invisible tether of your soul to theirs. All five look like they’re in agony just seeing you there—not okay.

You look up at them and break. You hurl yourself into Haneul’s arms. His hands catch you instantly, anchoring you to his chest like he’s done this a thousand times in a thousand lives.

“I’m here,” he breathes into your hair, voice rough with emotion. “I’m here, baby. I’ve got you. I’ve got you—don’t cry like that, please don’t cry like that.”

You release another painful sob as you cry into his chest. It hurts. Jinu drops to his knees beside you, taking your hand in both of his, kissing your knuckles like they’re holy. “She’s remembering,” he says softly. “She’s remembering what happened.”

Baby’s fists are clenched. He looks like he might punch through the wall. Or the sky. “Who did this to her?” he growls, but the rage is hollow. Useless. “Who made her feel this way?”

“No one,” Mystery says, almost inaudible. “It’s us. She’s feeling us. And their pain.”

Seoha shifts behind you, pulling you into his lap like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t wrap every limb around you. His face is ghost-white, his chest bare, still heaving from the terror of waking to your pain. “I thought you were dying,” he says. “God, I thought you were leaving me again.”

You’re shaking uncontrollably. “I saw you,” you whisper. “Both of you.” Your eyes lock with Haneul’s. “I saw you burning. Bleeding. Screaming for me.”

Then with Seoha. “And you… holding my body. I was dead. And you—you were breaking.”

Every boy in the room stills. There’s a silence thick enough to choke on. “I felt everything,” you whisper. “Your heartbreak. Your love. It hurt so much, I thought I was going to die with you.”

Abby presses his forehead to your temple. “I’d die every lifetime if it meant I got to hold you again.”

Jinu kisses your wrist. “You’re here. With us, baby. That’s all that matters.”

Baby’s hands shake as he kneels in front of you. “Don’t ever cry like that again. I’ll kill the world if it makes you cry like that.”

Mystery crawls in beside you, head pressing gently to your shoulder. “We’re with you now,” he murmurs, “and we’ll never leave again.”

And then… Seoha. He turns your chin to face him. His eyes burn. “You think I’m afraid of losing you?” he whispers. “I’m not. Because I won’t. I won’t. Even if I have to tear the heavens open and drag you back from them.”

His lips graze yours—not yet a kiss. Just a whisper of devotion. “You died in my arms once,” he says. “I’m never letting you out of them again.”

And suddenly— They’re all touching you. A thumb brushing your cheekbone. A hand on your back. A kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your collarbone. Your jaw. Your hands.

Worship, in the form of fingertips and lips. Possession, in the shape of tenderness. You’re overwhelmed. Soft sobs slip free—but not from pain this time. From feeling too much.

Because you’re not alone. Because you’re loved so deeply, it’s terrifying. Because the grief you inherited belongs to them, and they’re trying—desperately—to kiss it all away.

You lean into it. Into them. They hold you tighter. You are theirs. And they are yours.

And for a moment, that’s enough. Even if it shouldn’t be. Even if you know—deep down—something darker is still coming.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

There’s a difference between the six of you as the day begins. Something in the air shifts—softer, but heavier. Like the weight of too many emotions pressing on fragile glass.

After you’d cried yourself back to sleep, they hadn’t left you alone. Not for a second. They kissed you until your lashes fluttered shut, until your breathing calmed. Until your pain dulled beneath their whispers and vows.

But today… they had to leave. Just for a few hours. Idol obligations, they said. Interviews. Meet-ups. “We’ll be back before you even miss us,” Haneul had teased, planting a kiss behind your ear.

At first, the silence is peaceful. You sit in the studio, sunlight spilling through the sheer curtains as you try to lose yourself in paint. But your hands— Your fingers tremble slightly. The brush wavers. You blink. Colors blur on the page. A wave of heat rolls through your chest.

“Ugh,” you mutter, pressing your wrist to your forehead. “Maybe I skipped lunch…” You feel dizzy. Strange. Not sick—just… wrong. Like your body isn’t fully yours.

An hour passes. Then two. You drink water. Open a window. Try humming to yourself. But nothing helps. Your skin feels too tight. The room feels too small. And something in your ribs aches—not like illness, but absence. Like being stretched too far from something you're not meant to live without.

“What the hell… I thought the bond symptoms had subsided…” you grumble in frustration. It was so strange. You had felt normal when they left the other day. By the fourth hour, your breath starts to hitch. You lie on the couch, curled up in one of Mystery’s oversized hoodies, trying not to cry. And then—finally—

The front door opens. Footsteps. Voices. The moment you hear it—you bolt.

“Y/N?” Jinu calls out, stepping into the hallway.

But he doesn’t get another word in before you launch yourself at him, arms wrapping around his neck, legs clinging to his waist like a koala. And immediately as you breathe in his scent, you start to feel better.

“Whoa—” he stumbles slightly, catching you with practiced ease. “Miss you too, baby.”

Haneul bursts out laughing behind him. “Damn, give us five seconds to drop our bags!”

“She’s not messing around,” Seoha murmurs, smirking, eyes dark with something more than amusement.

But it’s Mystery—last to enter—who freezes in the doorway. His nose twitches. He steps closer, gaze flicking over you. “You were sick,” he says. Not a question. “But not anymore.”

You blink, still clinging to Jinu’s chest. “How did you—?”

“You don’t smell right when we’re gone. You smell wrong.” His expression is tight. “Like something’s pulling you apart.”

“I just felt weird,” you whisper. “Shaky. Hot. Like… I couldn’t breathe unless one of you walked in the door.”

They all go still and exchange questioning glances. Jinu kisses the top of your head. “You’re okay now.”

“No,” Baby says. “She wasn’t.”

Seoha hums, stepping behind you to run a hand down your spine. “It’s the bond getting stronger. A flare up. That’s all.”

“Sure,” Mystery says under his breath. “The bond.” It should be more stabilzed now. He wonders to himself. So why is she having flare-ups?

But his eyes stay on you—watching the way you bury yourself deeper into Jinu’s hold. Watching how the tension in your body bleeds away as they gather around you again, like wolves circling a den. He sees it before the rest of them do. You aren’t just missing them. You need them. Not emotionally. Physically. Spiritually.

Later that day, you’re curled up on the couch, sketching lazily as the boys come and go around you. Music plays low from the kitchen.

Baby flops beside you, long legs sprawled, arms behind his head. His fingers trail across your wrist—just a touch, light as breath. And suddenly—

The colors around you sharpen. The lines of your drawing look too crisp. The air crackles faintly, like a TV left on the wrong channel. You flinch, breath catching. “What was that…?”

Baby raises a brow. “What?”

You shake your head. “Nothing. I’m probably just—overtired or something.” But your heart is pounding. There’s something alive in your blood. Something that doesn’t belong to you.

That night, the boys cook dinner—galbi and japchae sizzling on the stove, the air thick with spice, garlic, and warmth. You’re chopping vegetables at the counter, sleeves rolled to your elbows, hair tied up in a messy knot. For once, it feels almost normal. Like you're a person again. Like you still live in a world that follows rules.

Seoha brushes behind you—too close, always too close—and passes you a spoon. His hand lingers a second longer than needed, fingers grazing yours. The second your skin touches his—

The stove erupts. Flames leap like claws from the burner. Not a flicker. A flare. Fierce. Bright. Hungry. You flinch. The knife clatters onto the cutting board. Everyone stills. For one perfect second, silence tightens the room like a wire pulled taut. Haneul steps forward, slowly. “That’s not the stove.”

Jinu doesn’t take his eyes off you. “It wasn’t broken earlier.”

Seoha doesn’t move. His hand stays on yours, calm—too calm. “She’s okay,” he murmurs. “It was just a flare.”

“From what?” you whisper, pulse skittering. They don’t answer. Not immediately. Then Jinu speaks, voice soft but heavy: “She centers us.” He swallows. Adds quieter—almost like it hurts to admit it: “Too well. Too completely.”

Mystery moves in from the hallway, his eyes already glowing faintly. He doesn’t come closer—just inhales, deeply. “…She smells like equilibrium,” he murmurs. “Like home.”

Your heart stutters. You take a step back. The boys don’t let you. Seoha slides behind you again, arms wrapping lightly around your waist. Haneul stands at your side, fingers brushing your wrist. Baby tilts his head from across the kitchen, watching you like a predator sizing up something that already belongs to him.

“Soulbond’s getting stronger,” Baby says, voice amused. “Cute, huh?”

You let out an uneasy laugh, your smile only slightly unsure.  Because under your skin, something curls tighter. Thicker. This isn’t just a bond. It’s a root system. A fire line. A storm surge. Something old is waking in you—and whatever it is, it’s bound to them.

And they know it. You can feel it in the way they look at you. Reverent. Possessive. A little afraid. Not afraid for you. Afraid of losing you. Afraid of what they’d do if that balance—you—was ever broken.

“Hey,” Jinu says gently, moving closer. “Don’t run from this. Whatever’s changing… it’s not hurting you. It’s anchoring us.”

“I don’t want to be an anchor,” you whisper.

Seoha presses a kiss behind your ear. “Too late.”

And all around you—five demons in human skin, eyes glowing soft with need, obsession, love—they just watch you.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

“No.”

“Please.” You plead with the best puppy-dog eyes you could muster. “I don’t want your fans suspecting anything or posting about me.” 

The boys had brought you along to their variety show. A result of your sickness when they were away yesterday. “I’d rather die than have you sick again because of me.” Baby said this morning with a grumble before forcing you to get dressed. 

Such events had lead to now, as you watch the five of them stare at you like you’ve grown a second head. Haneul crosses his arms. “That’s literally what disguises are for.”

“I won’t go far,” you insist. “I’ll stay in the mall right next to the building. You can check on me between segments. I just don’t want so many eyes looking at me and suspecting anything… and with the way you guys act, that’s bound to happen.”

“What do you mean?” Jinu asks.

“She means how none of us can keep our paws off her.” Seoha smirks. “Fine. But behave.”

Baby begins to protest. “But-!”

You smile, triumphant. “I will. Promise!”

He glares at you.

Twenty minutes later, you’re sipping warm broth at a tucked-away ramen stall in the back of the upper floor food court—alone, but not quite free. You know they’re watching. Mystery’s familiar warmth lingers like a phantom near your ribs. Jinu's voice still echoes in your ear: “Don’t go anywhere unfamiliar.”

So naturally, when the air turns colder—too cold—you go still. Your breath fogs, though the mall is heated. The hairs rise on your arms. And then—

A figure sits across from you. No footsteps. No sound. Just is. An old man. Not old like human elders, but ancient. His eyes don’t reflect light. They drink it. His suit is formal, black and gray, timeless in a way that doesn’t belong in this century—or any. You freeze, chopsticks mid-air.

“I see why he’s… intrigued by you,” the man says, voice smooth like rusted metal. He takes a deep breath and lets out a smile that chills you to the bone. “You taste like paradox.”

“…Excuse me?”

He doesn’t blink. “You’re tethered,” he murmurs. “To five fractured souls. A full hand’s worth. I’ve never seen it before.”

You grip your chopsticks. “I’m not—”

“You are,” he cuts in softly. “But it’s not finished. Not yet. That’s the dangerous part.” he chuckles in amusement. “The old fool doesn’t know what he’s just done to himself.”

Your stomach turns cold.

“He suspects. But he doesn’t know. Not yet. Your bond is rare. Raw. Unfinished. It could collapse. Or… become something eternal.”

You swallow. “Who suspects what now? And what do you mean, tether?”

He tilts his head. Slow. Exact. Like measuring a blade before it slides between ribs. The demon before you didn’t bother answering your questions. “I once had a friend,” he says. “Smart. Loyal. Desperate. He wanted what you are becoming.”

Your breath catches. “What happened to him?”

The man’s mouth twitches into something like pity. “He failed.”

“Why?”

“He tried to force what should only grow. He tried to anchor love with power. To make a bridge out of obsession. But the soul he bound to wasn’t strong enough. She was never the foundation.”

Your heart stammers. “She couldn’t bear it?”

“She unraveled.” He says it like poetry. Like eulogy. “She died screaming. And so did he.”

You feel it in your bones. The truth. The horror. But what shreds your spine is the feeling that this isn’t a warning—it’s a mirror.

The old demon smiles. “Be careful, child. You are something rare. Not quite human anymore. Not yet divine. If you’re not careful, they’ll tear you in five.”

Your breath hitches. “Who are you?”

He ignores the question. Instead, he leans forward, eyes pale and burning. “There will be a price,” he whispers. “Always. The question is not if you’ll pay it—” His breath brushes your cheek. “—but whether you choose to.”

You jolt back— The lights flicker above. Your ramen is untouched. Your body is shaking. Something cold coils in your spine. You don't realize you're gripping the edge of the table until your knuckles burn.

Who is this demon? And what in god’s name is he talking about?

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Back in the studio, the audience claps. The host jokes. The boys are seated on two couches for the show. Abby fake-laughs at something that didn’t land. 

But Mystery’s head snaps up. His whole body goes rigid. The camera catches it—just for a second. The host frowns. “You alright there, Mystery?”

Abby shoots him a glance. “He’s been feeling sick today,” Jinu says smoothly, stepping in. The host makes a sympathetic noise. “Aw, poor guy.”

But Romance has already frozen. Baby’s eye twitches. They feel it too—you. Your fear. 

Mystery doesn’t say a word. He walks offstage right in the middle of the taping. The crowd gasps. Abby forces a laugh. “We told him not to eat six boiled eggs before a shoot.”

Laughter bubbles. Cameras roll. But the boys go cold inside. Because something just reached you.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Mystery’s feet are soundless on the tile as he enters the upper floor of the mall. His eyes are darker. Sharper. Not quite human. And then he sees you.

You. Sitting at the corner stall. Shaking. His heart drops. A growl rises in his throat. And then he sees him. The Old One. Still there. Still smiling. Mystery’s body shifts—just enough for his nails to blacken. Fangs graze his lower lip.

“Step away,” he snarls.

 The demon raises a brow. “The beast comes.”

“You scared her.”

The old one stands. Unbothered. “I told her the truth.”

Mystery stills. “You think I won’t rip you apart in front of civilians?”

“I think,” the demon says lightly, “that if you do, she’ll burn faster.”

That stills Mystery. A flicker of fang. A twitch of the claw. But no strike.

“You don’t want her revealed, do you?” the man hums. “Not yet.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” 

The old demon smiles, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “Ah, I see. Even you don’t know.”

“Know what?!”

The old demon chuckles. “But you can feel it, more than the others… the ‘bond’” he stretches the last word like it’s a joke he’d just made. 

Mystery growls at the mention of the bond, eyes growing protective, angry. He goes to take a swipe and then, like smoke curling from a candle—the demon vanishes. Mystery rushes to you. You collapse into his arms the moment he reaches you, clinging so tightly it almost hurts. “Shhh, it’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” His voice is lower than usual—closer to a growl. “We’ll talk later. I’m getting you out of here.”

He carries you from the mall with a hoodie over your head, your ramen left behind, your pulse still racing.

He carries you for a few minutes and then there’s a flash. It’s quiet. Still. Only the wind and the sound of water lapping the rocks. He’s brought you to a secluded park just beyond the city—hidden and safe. You have no idea what’s going on. How you got here so fast. Fear still gripping your thoughts. 

He sits you down on a wooden bench, you on his lap as he cradles your form protectively. Finally—

“What did he say to you?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. I don’t understand. Something about his friend, and that I’m becoming something, and to be careful not to tear apart, A choice-” your voice is shaky, trying to remember all you could after such a situation. 

Mystery’s arms wrap around you tighter. “Okay, okay, baby…” he shushes and rocks you as a way to soothe your rapidly beating heart. But in his eyes—beastlike and broken—something ancient and possessive sparks.

You lean into his chest, listening to the low rumble of his breath, the occasional thud of his heartbeat, the way his arms tighten each time you twitch. Finally, your voice comes—hoarse, quiet. A whisper more than a question. “Who… who was that?”

Mystery stiffens behind you. For a second, you think he won’t answer. Then—

“An Old One,” he murmurs. “Older than me. Older than any of us.”

You pull back slightly to look at him. “Like… a demon?” 

He nods, slowly. “More like… a ghost of the first demons. They don’t take orders. Even Gwi Ma doesn’t command them. They don’t usually come out of hiding unless…”

“Unless what?”

His jaw flexes. His eyes are darker now, less gold—more like molten obsidian. “Unless something’s changing.”

You swallow. The air feels too still. The wind too quiet. Mystery brushes a hand over your arm, almost absentmindedly. Like he’s grounding himself.

“He knew things,” you whisper. “He said things I didn’t understand. About… tethering. About bonds.” You look up at him. “Do you know what he meant?”

Mystery’s eyes lock with yours. And you’ve never seen him look so helpless. “No,” he says honestly. “I don’t. I swear, little one. If I did… I’d tell you.”

You study his face. Every line of sincerity. Every flicker of confused concern. He truly doesn’t know. “But he scared you,” he adds softly. “That’s enough. I should’ve been there.”

“It’s not your fault,” you say, but your voice trembles.

Mystery pulls closer. His hands slide up your spine. His nose presses into the crook of your neck. He inhales deeply—shuddering. “You smell better now,” he murmurs, a little too possessively. “Not like fear anymore.”

You try to calm your heartbeat, but his tone wraps around your nerves like a snare. “He shouldn’t have touched your peace,” he growls. “He had no right.”

You rest your head against his shoulder, the thrum of anxiety still vibrating in your chest. He nuzzles your temple. “You’re mine to scare. Mine to break. Mine to fix.”

You blink. “Mystery—”

“I won’t let them take you,” he says simply. “Not Gwi Ma. Not the hunters. Not the Old Ones. Not even fate.”

Your breath hitches.

“But I don’t know what you are,” he admits. “Only that you’re… ours. The piece we were missing. The reason we’re even still sane.”

You close your eyes, the river whispering nearby. Something deep, quiet, ancient curls in your stomach. Not fear. Not anymore. But not comfort either. Something’s shifting. And it has a name. You just don’t know it yet.

The silence stretches again, soft and heavy. Water ripples faintly beside you. The breeze carries the faintest scent of pine and memory. Mystery shifts. You feel it in the way his arms tighten around you—not possessive this time. Not protective. Just… needing.

“I’ve never told you,” he murmurs, “what you were to me. The first time.” Your breath catches. His voice is rough—barely more than a growl smoothed by sorrow.

“You weren’t like this then. You were smaller. Weaker. Human in every way. But you were kind. You sang when no one else did.”

You blink slowly, his breath warm near your ear.

“Three-hundred years ago. It was the Sick Season,” he continues, voice low. “That’s what they called it. The people in your village. They thought the illness was punishment. Or a curse. The priests said prayers. The elders said nothing.”

His fingers stroke your arm absently, grounding himself. “Your siblings were coughing. You didn’t cough yet. So you walked into the woods one night with a lantern and begged the sky for help. I don’t think you expected an answer.”

He exhales. A shaky, fond sound. “But I came. As fog first. Then fur. Then form. And you…” His throat closes. You feel the tremor in him. “You weren’t scared.”

You blink, heart fluttering. “I should have been,” you whisper.

“No,” he says immediately. “You shouldn’t have. Because you saved me first.”

He tilts your face to meet his eyes—molten gold, wide and wet with something too ancient for tears. “You gave me a name,” he murmurs, half-laughing. “A silly one. I didn’t even know what it meant. But you said it like it mattered. Like I mattered.” His mouth brushes your forehead. His eyes closing in content and fondness. “You had called me Hwimori, saying I moved like a whirlwind. However, over time you shortened it…”

Your eyes flashed a crimson as a memory flooded back into you. You uttered his name with a soft gasp of remembrance. “...Hwi”

You felt him purr beneath you and his grip on you tightened at the sound of his name on your lips. He shook slightly as if he might break — because no one’s called him that since you… “Yes…” he breathed a laugh of disbelief. “That’s what it was…” 

You clutched on his sweater tightly, burying your nose in his neck. He sighed in content before continuing. “You fed me crumbs. Apples. You made up songs about the wind. You thought I was just a lonely fox. And I was. But then you… you looked at me like I wasn’t.”

You swallow, throat burning. Mystery presses his forehead to yours. “I didn’t understand death. I didn’t understand why you were singing less, sleeping more. Your hum faded, and I thought I could fix it by keeping you warm. By staying. By loving harder.” He shakes his head slowly. “But love couldn’t stop it. You died with your hand in my fur.”

You flinch. His arms tighten around you. “They dragged me away. I bit them. Changed shape by accident. I didn’t know how to be anything but yours, and they took you anyway.”

His voice breaks now—hoarse, unsteady. “They called me cursed. A beast. And maybe they were right. Because after that, I couldn’t go back to what I was. I couldn’t even remember how.” He closes his eyes. “My grief broke me. My body. My soul. I lost you, and I never stopped howling.”

Tears sting your lashes.

“I wandered for years,” he whispers. “Villages. Mountains. Cities. I learned how to speak. How to walk on two legs. I waited for you. Hoped for you. Even when I forgot your name, I remembered the sound of your laughter.”

You let out a choked sound. His fingers catch it, tracing your jaw. “I didn’t know pain until you stopped singing,” he says. “And even now, even here—centuries later—you hum in your sleep, and it quiets the monster in me. And why now I sing… for you.”

Your voice is a whisper. “I remember… the vision. You curled against my legs.”

“That was real,” he says. “It was the first time I ever felt warm.” Another pause. This one tender, terrible. “They said I was a demon. That I shouldn’t feel. But I did. Because of you. You made me feel—so I became something that could feel you back.”

You shift in his lap, cupping his cheeks with both hands. His eyes flutter shut. His breath shudders. “They said I was a beast,” he murmurs. “But I only ever wanted to be yours.”

You kiss his cheek. He makes a sound—raw and startled—like he’s been starving for it. Like the feel of your lips is too much and not enough. His breath hitches, sharp, and you hear it break in his throat.

“You touched me,” he whispers hoarsely, “and I called it forever.”

Your heart cracks. He’s shaking again—not from fear, but from something deeper. Centuries of ache coiled tight in his chest. Something caged too long. His nose brushes yours, his lips just shy of your mouth, and his hands are trembling against your waist like he’s terrified to want this.

But you do.

So you close the space between you. You kiss him. And everything stops.

You taste the reverence in it—how he doesn’t quite believe it’s real. The shudder that runs down his spine is almost violent. His breath catches like his lungs are learning how to fill for the first time. Like his body never understood how to live until now.

He kisses you like someone who’s never been touched. Like someone who’s wandered lifetimes in thirst, and your mouth is the first drop of water he’s ever found. His hands fly to your back, your waist, your neck—like he needs to feel every inch of you, as if skin-to-skin contact might keep you from vanishing.

He kisses like a soulbeast, not a man. Like instinct. Like prayer. Like his entire existence was a howl that only just found its answer. You pull back just enough to breathe—but his lips chase you, his forehead resting on yours as his chest heaves.

“I’m here now,” you whisper.

His scarred mouth twitches, almost like a smile, but it’s broken. Fragile. Wounded. “I know,” he chokes. “And I’ll never—” His voice cracks. “Never let them take you again. I swear it. I swear—”

“I know,” you say, and kiss him again—quieter this time. Like a promise. And this time, when you curl deeper into his arms, you feel it. The tremor in him stills. 

For the first time in three hundred years, the beast stops trembling.

────────── ⚘ ────────── The air ripples. A breath. A blur. And then Mystery is there—materializing in the middle of the apartment with you in his arms.

“I didn’t know demons could teleport…” 

The moment your feet touch the ground, five shadows surge forward.

Jinu’s already halfway across the room, tie loosened, eyes wild with tension. Seoha and Haneul shoot up from the couch. Baby’s pacing like a storm about to break, jaw clenched, fists flexing and curling. The bond in the room is a live wire—buzzing, seething, flaring.

You barely have time to exhale before they close in. Arms wrap around you from all sides. Jinu’s hands cup your face. Haneul holds you from behind, burying his face into your neck. Seoha presses his forehead to your shoulder. Baby—Baby doesn’t touch you at all. He stands just inches away, vibrating with barely restrained rage, like one wrong word might shatter the floor beneath you.

“You’re okay,” Jinu murmurs, breath shaking. “You’re really okay…”

“I felt it,” Haneul breathes. “The fear. Your fear.”

“You were burning,” Seoha whispers. “The bond flared so hot I thought I’d combust.”

“I told you,” Baby snarls, teeth bared. “She never should’ve left our sight. I told you.”

“Baby—” Jinu starts, but he cuts him off.

“No. No more of this.” He steps toward you finally, eyes glowing faintly. “You think I’m dramatic? Obsessive? Fine. But if anything—anything—had happened to you, I would’ve burned that entire building down. You hear me?” His hand trembles as he reaches out and presses two fingers to your wrist. “I’d obliterate everything.”

“Baby…” you whisper.

He exhales sharply and pulls you into his arms. “I wasn’t angry,” he mutters against your hair. “I was scared.”

You feel it. All of them. Their fear. Their restraint. Their absolute fury at the thought of losing you again. Seoha sinks onto the couch, dragging you with him. The others follow—pressing close, limbs tangled, the kind of closeness only soul-starved creatures know.

“What happened?” Jinu asks, voice controlled, but his eyes are pure flame.

Mystery doesn’t flinch. “An Old One,” he says. “He was waiting for her.”

The room stills. No one speaks. Mystery continues, voice low and gravelly. “He didn’t hurt her. But… he knew something. Said strange things. I got her out before I could kill him.”

You lean against Jinu, your body finally remembering how to breathe. “He said…” You close your eyes. “That He suspects something. That my bond is unfinished. That it could become something eternal. Or collapse entirely.”

“He?” Haneul asks. You nod and mutter softly, “I think… I think he’s talking about Gwi Ma.”

Jinu stills. Seoha leans forward. “Did he say what it meant?”

You shake your head. “Only that he had a friend. A demon who tried to force a bond like mine. And that… it tore his lover apart.”

Silence. Jinu’s hand tightens where it rests on your thigh. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t breathe. But you feel it. In the bond. In his bones. A flicker of something like recognition.

“Jinu,” Seoha says, frowning. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” Jinu says too quickly. Liar. He knows something. Just not enough to say it out loud. Not yet.

Maybe he doesn’t believe it. Maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s because the story he heard—the fable of a demon who tried to tether a human soul and failed—always felt like a fairytale. A cautionary myth whispered by demons about the cost of unnatural love.

But now… You’re sitting in front of him. And it doesn’t feel so mythical anymore.

“I’ll find him again,” Mystery mutters darkly. “The next time he speaks to her, I won’t hold back.”

Haneul’s eyes glint with the same promise. “We should’ve gone with you.”

“She wouldn’t have felt fear if we were there,” Baby growls. “She wouldn’t need to feel fear again if she just stayed with us.”

“I wasn’t trying to be reckless,” you whisper. “I just wanted to—”

“You don’t get to be reckless,” Seoha says, not unkindly. “Not when you belong to us.”

You flinch slightly. Not from his tone. From how much you don’t flinch at the possessiveness anymore. They’re all quiet for a moment. Then Jinu softens. His hand brushes your hair behind your ear. “You’re tired.”

Mystery lifts you again before anyone else can move. “I’ll take her.”

There’s no argument. The boys each kiss your head goodnight, lingering longer than they usually do. Mystery carries you to bed like you’re breakable porcelain. Like you're the center of the world and he's afraid you might shatter. You lie down, and he tucks you in, brushing your hair back with fingers that still shake. You touch his wrist. 

“I liked the name,” you whisper. “Hwi.”

His throat tightens as he smiles softly. He nods. Then curls beside you, arms locking around your waist. He buries his nose in your hair. Your scent as an anchor to his very being. 

You fall asleep like that. In the arms of the beast who once guarded your grave. And once your breath evens, he slips out of the room.

The boys are waiting in the living room, the lights dim. No one speaks for a long time. Finally, Jinu says, “There’s a chance—just a chance—that she’s becoming something.”

“Something?” Haneul repeats.

“A… tether,” Jinu murmurs. “But it’s just an old myth. A story.”

Baby’s eyes narrow. “What kind of story?”

Jinu leans back, staring at the ceiling. “One where a demon tried to bind a human soul too tightly. To keep them. Forever. Without the need for Gwi Ma’s intervention. It didn’t end well.”

Seoha’s voice is ice. “And if this isn’t a story?”

“Then she’s not just bonded to us,” Jinu says slowly. “She anchors us.”

Mystery- Hwimori snarls low in his throat. “What do you mean? She’s already ours. What more can she become?”

Jinu doesn’t answer. But the word echoes in his mind. She could become the anchor. Not just to us. To everything.

He couldn’t say that now. Not without further proof. But every one of them is thinking the same thing. If she is becoming something more— They’ll burn heaven and hell before letting it take her away.

TO BE CONTINUED

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A/N: Yayy Mystery backstory! His past is a bit different from the other boys. His origins weren't human. He was a soul beast that corrupted after your death - which explains his deep senses and connection to you. Because he was a spirit, the name Hwimori fit more as it was one given to him by you (and also not a human name). Hwimori is the name of a Korean rhythmic pattern used in traditional Korean music. It's known for being fast-paced, spiraling, and intense—like a whirlwind. And so the name Hwimori pretty much embodies the chaotic grace of a spirit-beast born from instinct, emotion, and ritual. Like the rhythm, he is relentless, spiraling around you, driven by feeling more than logic. You shorten it to “Hwi,” turning something wild and sacred into something personal and tender.

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[ladysaja]

Ms. Manager (No Dating Rule!)

Saja boys x Female! Reader

Summary: Other men really need to stop hitting on you or they're gonna lose their minds.

Warning: Saja boys, possessive! saja boys, jealousy, yandere behaviour, oblivious! reader, dumb! reader, crybaby? reader, death (not reader or the saja boys), grammatical errors probably and incorrect spellings, english is not my first language, probably more.

Author's note: The first part reached over 3,000+ notes in just two days (I don't know if that's a good thing or not) but thank you nonetheless! This happens before the first part. This is not proofread lol

Part 1

Coming into the Korean pop music business as a group's manager wasn't exactly what you planned that would happen to you, it wasn't the job you dreamed of but it paid rent and the boys you were looking after weren't that bad, they were extremely clingy and a tad over protective for someone they appointed as their manager for 6 months. It was unexpected but the 5 boys seemed nice enough that immediately made you accept their offer as their manager, their looks were just bonuses.

Apparently, being their manager also requires you to bring them food (Baby said so) and while they offered to come with you, you disagreed because you didn't want to disrupt their dance practice. They gave you their money, of course.

So that's why you were currently in the supermarket, pushing the trolley as you tried to remember what it was that the boys liked to eat. It seemed only Baby loved the hot sauce after getting a free taste on one of the few times they came with you to the shops.

"You can buy what you want with the money too, pretty." they said before you walked off, handing you a butt load of money that wouldn't be able to fit in your wallet.

And that's what you did, throwing your favourite food after food inside the trolley with a giddy smile before stopping to think what your boys liked.

A tap on the shoulder interrupted you from your thoughts making you turn around to see an admittedly handsome man who seemed about your age, ginger hair, brown eyes and fair skin. He's a foreigner, that much was obvious. You blink in surprise and confusion, "Uh, hello? something wrong, sir?" You asked, voice laced with its usual softness and trying to speak in english.

The male cleared his throat, "Uh.." he was momentarily distracted by your looks and cute voice. "Uhm, ye-yes... I-" He cleared his throat again.

You raised an eyebrow, 'Is he alright?' you thought.

"I think you're really pretty and... I was wondering if you'd like to go on a date with me..." He finally says, cheeks tinted pink. British.

Your eyes widened, feeling your own cheeks heat up at his words and accent. This is the first time in years since someone had asked you out, someone this handsome and has a british accent! That's practically the sexiest accent in the world, at least that's what your friend said to you.

"Oh! My name is Brandon, I'm not from here and I just... I thought you very pretty and I'm rambling.." He stammered out, face reddening even more. "I don't know, I just- I wanted to try and have a friend... it doesn't have to be a date-date, just a friendl-"

You don't have an understanding of the whole english language but you definitely got the gist of that.

You interrupted him with a kind smile, "I accept!" You exclaim, trying to hide your excitement.

Brandon smiled back, "h-here... my number, call me? I mean w-we can meet tomorrow for that date.." He said as he handed me a piece of paper with his number that he wrote before walking towards me.

You gave him a nod and a small wave as he walked away with a skip.

You opened the door to the boy's dance rehearsal, carrying three bags of food (the two bags were for you). The boys stopped their practice and immediately went to fight each other on who could help you, practically pushing each other away before Abby grabbed the bags from your hand with a charming smile, "I'll handle them for you, pretty." He said as the rest scoffed.

"Thank you!" I smiled, "So how's practice going?"

Jinu sighs at the question, moving to stand beside you. You could practically smell him with how sweaty he is, no- you could smell all of their musky smell. "It's fine," He huffs, trying to cover up the fact that it was not doing well at all with how much the rest of the guys stressed him out a lot.

"I did tell you I could hire a dance instructor for you guys," I hum, trying to ignore their scent.

Baby rolls his eyes, "Don't. I don't want other people in here." He mutters. I don't want you talking to anybody else, especially if it's a guy.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it," Romance reassures as he took the place on the other side of you. "Just watch us and look all beautiful for us... okay, Ms. Manager?" he adds with a flirty smile, placing a hand on your shoulder.

Mystery nods his head at what the heart shape haired male said.

I pout, "I just want to be useful, I am your manager after all..."

Abby chuckles, "you are useful, pretty girl. You're taking care of us right now, buying us all these food. You've been a good girl for us." He praised as Jinu hums in agreement.

Your cheeks heated up, they always seem to like mentioning everyday that you've been a good girl and it never stops to make your heart skip a beat.

Such a good girl, you like touching my muscles, don't you?

Thank you, pretty girl. I'm so proud of my good girl.

Don't stop doing that, it feels good... that's right, good girl.

The next day came by and you were giddy, all excited that the others couldn't help but notice it when you came by for another day of dance rehearsals.

Abby moved to flex his muscles, intentionally growing closer to you as the thin shirt made his abs more prominent. "What's got you all excited?" He questioned with a raised eyebrow as he looked down at your form.

"Well yesterday... a guy asked me out!" You exclaimed, "He was sooo handsome and he has this british accent that it just made my heart melt!" You place a hand on your chest for good measure.

The others stopped whatever it is they were doing to look at you, an unreadable expression plastered on their faces before Jinu gave you a small smile which was obviously fake but you didn't notice, practically buzzing with excitement.

"Is that so? I'm happy for you!" He says as he gave you a pat on the shoulder.

"We're actually going at this restaurant in town tonight and I'm gonna be wearing the prettiest dress," You giggle as Mystery grits his teeth in annoyance, trying to stop himself from barking angrily at whoever's taking you out.

They can't believe you had the nerve to just go on dates with some nobody, you were their manager so that practically means you're theirs. So that pretty dress you own is reserved for their eyes only. Who cares if that guy has an accent? They know they're much better than whatever nobody you found on the streets.

The day rolls by, the Saja boys couldn't focus on whatever dance routine they had to do because they have one goal in mind;

getting rid of the bastard who had the audacity to steal their pretty girl.

It was easy trying to find the guy you were going on a date with because you told them his description and where you were meeting, oblivious to their plans. They know you wouldn't accuse them of doing something because you were dumb like that and they love it.

Jinu was dressed as a waiter that they ganged up on to steal his clothes and his soul while the rest waited outside in a dark alleyway. You were still at your apartment, getting all dolled up for this ugly nobody who could never compare to their majestic beauty.

How did you ever find this piece of shit handsome?

The raven haired male plastered on a fake smile as he approached Brandon who looked nervous and sweaty, Jinu was glad he came here extra early. "Hello, sir. I just wanted to inform you that a pretty, young lady is waiting for you outside." he said in perfect english as the ginger male looked up at him in surprise before nodding his head to stand up, following after him.

Brandon looked confused as he was led to a dark and secluded place, he looks around. "Uh, where-" he turns to face Jinu and lets out a gasp, seeing 5 pairs of glowing eyes- yellow embers with orange slits that are razor-thin- glaring down at him from the shadows.

The brit lets out a nervous chuckle, stepping back. "I-is this a joke, mate? It's not really funny..." He mutters before his back felt the dirty and cold stone wall.

"You really thought you could take her... from me? from us?" one of them growls as they moved closer to him.

"Don't bother screaming for help, no one's here but us." another whispers tauntingly before they all simultaneously pounced at the male who let out a scream with other people none the wiser.

"I- I got stood up..." You whimper, having just gone to the restaurant and waited for hours for the guy but he never game. "I waited for him but he didn't come..."

You were in their house, practically dashing over to them in tears. They bit back the smile as you melted into a puddle in Jinu's arms who coo-ed and rubbed your back gently as you cried.

"A-and I was all dressed up too... h-he's such a jerk!" You sobbed, hiding your pretty face in his chest.

"It's gonna be okay, [Your name]" Abby moves towards you, fingers moving to take your chin, tilting your head to look at him so that they could see your pretty face even with the make up running down due to your tears.

Romance gave you a smile, "Besides, you've got us. You don't need some other guy to go on a date with, we're here for you." He said softly. "Oh look, you're ruining your make up now... but don't worry, you're still the prettiest girl in the world."

Mystery nods, "And... being on some date with a nobody would only deter you from your job as our manager... who's gonna take care of us now if you're gonna go off going on a date.." he mumbled, trying to act all upset.

You sniffle, "y-you're right... I- I'm suppose to be your manager... you guys are my priority." you mumbled as you wipe your tears away but the crying never stopped.

They all smirked, unknown to you. That's right. They are your priority and no one else.

"So you better not be getting into some dates again," Baby reprimands with an annoyed huff.

Because you're ours, pretty girl.

[ladysaja]

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 practically wrote this on a whim. I did not proofread this lol

No Dating Rule!

[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.

[ladysaja]

EATING YOU OUT | MDNI 18+

headcanon: saja boys x fem! reader

summary: genuinely down bad rn, let them eat and lemme serve

warnings: nsfw (18+), language, mentions of demon forms, degradation, praise, fingering, cunnilingus, biting, mentions of humping, bondage, spanking, marking, spitting, dom/sub relationships

Jinu ! - the giver

this man is the very definition of “I will match your mood”. I think he’s the most “gentle” out of the entire group, especially when he’s conscious of his actions. He won’t push you too hard when you’re tired, but when you’re eager and horny? yeah he’s serving you like his queen.

“Jinu!” you gasp, your cute thighs squeezing his head ever so harder. He offered a quick session before his concert, but he’s already made you cum more than six times by his fingers.

“Yes, my love?” his lips grazed you clit, giving you soft kisses everywhere but where you wanted them. He was teasing you, making you too tired to walk back to being his manager. Your legs were draped over his shoulders, your back against the cold leather of the black sofa.

You moaned, feeling his tongue press flat against your wet pussy. The smell of sex filled the small room, where at any moment anyone could come in. You grab a fist of his hair, nearly gasping;

“If you don’t fuck me with that tongue, I’ll ride it myself—“

A squeak escapes your lips as he grabs your legs, and moves you forward until his nose pokes at your little nub. His eyes narrow, and you feel his smile;

“I thought you’d never ask, Princess.”

Romance ! - the worshipper

this man is an absolute flirt and tease, but he loves you so much. he loves having you on his lap as he fucks your trembling pussy, but adores it more when he devours you. it just so happens he likes romantic baths with you and being your personal “massager”.

“Do you like it when I press my fingers here, hm?”

The warm water of the tub swishes silently as you struggle to hold on to the edge. Rose petals litter the water and stick to your bare skin. Only a single kanzashi holds your soaked hair together, a gift by no one other than the man caressing your lower back and swiping your clit effortlessly.

You’re practically arched on the edge of the tub. Your hands hold yourself up on the bottom wall as your ass pokes out of the tub, where Romance licks at your wet flesh.

“Y-yeah,” you moan, feeling his tongue circle around your tight hole, “When are we g-gonna finish? I have to go to work—“

You yelp when he smacks your thigh, growling, “Your work can wait, for now,” he smiles, tension easing, “I think this spot here,” his tongue enters your pussy with a sudden slurp, his jaw practically gnawing at you.

He doesn’t get to finish when you ask, “Y-you’re not gonna eat me like this, right? Wait until—“

Romance laughs, making your cunt flutter;

“Oh, I’m making sure you’re getting massaged inside out, baby.”

Mystery ! - the secret pussy monster

this man got hidden talent and you can’t tell me otherwise. he’s non-chalant outside, doesn’t know you and doesn’t touch you. but the moment you guys are alone, he’s a fuck bunny. he can’t take a second without you; a real passionate lover with surreal skill and knowledge about your body. test him if you want, but you’ll always end up with a cummy mess between your legs.

“Myst—!”

Another moan escapes you, and you instantly cover your mouth. Your sweetly manicured nails dig into your cheek as your teary eyes peek at the crook of light spilling from the door.

Mystery has you against the wall, his large hands holding your legs up as his thumbs open your wet folds. His masterful tongue slurps and fucks your sweet cunt. It’s only five more minutes until his debut, and instead of talking with his demon friends, he chose to eat his darling below the stage.

His tongue flicks your swollen nub as he murmurs, “If you don’t stay quiet little one, then they might come down,”

Your eyes look straight down at the orbs peeking from his overgrown hair as he claws the sweet plush of your legs, “And you know I really don’t like sharing food, don’t you?”

As his sweetly trained human, you nod feverishly, and let your teeth sink into the flesh of your palm. His name is just like his demeanor, an utter mystery. Because next thing you know, you’re cumming just off his words, your orgasm being ridden by his sharp teeth morphing in.

“Yes little one, keep going.” He sinks his fangs onto the fat of your inner thigh, right at the beat when his name is announced for entry.

Abs ! - the combo daddy

he’s strong and he knows it. he takes pride in his fingering + demon tongue combo. and it doesn’t matter what you wear or where it is, he’s always patting his muscled leg for you to hump on. he only wants his meal warmed up after all.

“Your pussy looks so fucking gorgeous like yesterday,” his words were punctuated with each kiss on your glistening sore folds, “Just so good.” You kept your legs open, your hands holding the back of your thighs and pushing it towards your tummy. A light jingle came from your anklet, well kind of— it was a chain that kept you tied to your sides. So your hands and feet had to be close together, there was no other way around it.

The gag on your smeared lips smothered every moan and slurry word you’d say, keeping you nice and quiet to Abs. His thick fingers were felt deeply as he curved them up your spongey walls, making a sloppy squishy sound. The demon sucked and made hickies all around your aching pussy, marking his territory.

He was teasing you horribly, and you knew that. Your head tipped back, your throat making a gutteral nose when Abs mixed his wet muscle with his digits, stretching your pulsating hole evermore.

It felt so good, but so wrong as you felt his tongue grow in you, almost like a tentacle leaving every spot of you untouched. The violet boy peered up at you, seeing you struggle to keep your weight above. He only chuckled, a motion strong enough to allow his markings to fade in;

“You’re doing such a good job, baby. Keep it up and I might just reward you.”

Baby ! - mister sloppy

he’s so messy, but he cleans up— don’t worry. he loves to drool on your cunt because he doesn’t believe in “lube”…well unless it’s some food kink he has going on. he loves it when you wear short skirts, or his oversized clothing and no panties. he’s a perv, but a dominant one. if he tells you to “come here”, you better come there, or else he’s gonna start spanking you.

“Now, what did I say about walking around like that, hm?” Another spank on your pussy made you yelp, but inside you simply adored it. You loved it when he grabbed your neck, squeezing it and rubbing your cunt as he slapped it. Your hands clutch at the arm around your neck, whining as you kick your legs up;

“I jus’ wanted to show you the new dress you bought me…!”

Baby scoffed, his middle and ring finger jerking your clit slowly; “So you decide to flaunt this wet meal of mine out in public? That’s not very cool, y’know.”

“Well,” you squirmed, nearly choking as he tightened his hold on your neck, “You haven’t eaten me out since—“

“Oh, so my pretty little girl wanted me to eat her pussy?” his voice made your body flush with new rigor, your pussy clamping on his long fingers, “Well why didn’t you say so?”

Instantly, you were tossed on the floor; your behind was pulled upwards, making you arch on his legs as you held yourself up on the floor. The precious red dress was rolled up to your waist, and you felt all your blood rushing to your head at the position. You saw Baby’s foot tapping as he hummed a rhythm, and felt him lick his tongue up your opening. A gasp escaped your lips, making you shiver when he spat on your cunt;

“I have this new beat I’ve been meaning to use, mind if I do a lip choreography on this sweet pussy?”

You didn’t even get to reply when he went right on fucking his tongue in your aching hole, making you mewl as you pushed your hips upward. Oh how loved it when he made out with your pretty pussy.

work and rights belong to me, laurel.

[ladysaja]

HEYYYYY SO I SAW YOU WAS DOING REQUESTS FOR KPOP DEMON HUNTERS

I loved the movie but the ending wasn’t what I was expecting and wanting😔

By any chance could you do the Saja boys in a poly relationship with reader? And separately the girls poly with reader?

I literally think it would be so much fun to have movie nights lmao and pull pranks on each other lmao😭💀

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ The “Current Boyfriend” prank on Jinu⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

———————————

Rehearsal had just ended, and the studio air was thick with leftover energy and heat. The mirrors were fogged, the sound system still humming with static, and Jinu—sweaty, flushed, and stunning—was casually sipping water near the doorway.

You pulled out your phone, pretending to check something. Really, you were framing the shot.

He looked over, brows raised. “Filming?”

You smiled. “Just something quick for the fans. Come here.”

He didn’t hesitate—just walked over, still catching his breath from that final run-through, his dark shirt clinging to his back. When he stood beside you, he leaned in slightly, effortlessly falling into idol mode: half-smile, perfect angle, soft gaze.

You started recording.

“Hey guys,” you said sweetly to the camera, smiling like it was any other fan update. “Just wanted to check in, rehearsal’s over—everyone’s tired, sweaty, gorgeous.”

You turned the camera slightly, panning over to Jinu.

“I’m here with my current boyfriend!”

You kept going like it was nothing, turning the camera back to yourself. “Anyway, we’re probably gonna grab food and chill for a bit—”

Behind you, Jinu tilted his head slightly.

“…What?”

You stopped.

“…What?” you echoed innocently, still filming.

He squinted. “Did you just say current boyfriend?”

You bit back a smile. “Yeah. Like, my boyfriend right now. In this moment.”

His eyes narrowed—not in anger, but in that dangerous, calm way Jinu did when he was calculating whether to flirt with you or mildly destroy your entire soul.

“You’ve had others lined up?”

You laughed, finally breaking. “It’s a trend! I was joking!”

He took the phone gently, still in frame, still smiling for the camera like nothing was wrong—but the glint in his eye had shifted.

“You heard her,” he said to the camera. “Apparently, I’m just a placeholder.”

“Jinu—”

He leaned in, eyes never leaving the lens.

“Just so everyone’s clear, I’m not going anywhere. So if I’m the ‘current,’ I plan on being the permanent upgrade.”

He stopped recording.

You stared at him.

“Babe, it was a trend—”

He handed your phone back with a knowing smile. “Post it.”

“…You’re not mad?”

“No,” he said smoothly, grabbing his bag. “But you’re paying for dinner.”

————————————————

@ sajaboysimps: “Current boyfriend” and he paused like a villain origin story. 😭😭😭

@ jinusjawline: She: “I’m with my current boyfriend!” Jinu: 🧍‍♂️❓

@ idolatemyheart: When he said “permanent upgrade” I blacked out.

@ softlaunchgonewrong: The way she kept talking like he wasn’t recalculating the entire relationship 💀💀💀

@ kpopdemonkween: Jinu really said “I’m calm but I will become your husband if you keep playing.” 💍🕶️

———————————

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ The “i forgot our anniversary ” prank on Baby⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

You had one goal: crack Baby’s fake-cool exterior.

The date was circled on your calendar in pink highlighter and glittery hearts — today marked your six months together. A fact you hadn’t forgotten. Not even close. You had the gift hidden, dinner planned, and a playlist queued.

But he didn’t know that.

So naturally… you decided to mess with him.

You strolled into the practice room like it was any other day, sipping your drink, phone in hand. Baby was lounging in a chair, jacket off, tank top on, towel draped around his neck. Hair tousled. Glistening post-workout glow. Casual heartthrob chaos.

“Hey,” he said, smiling without meaning to — one of those real ones, the rare kind.

“Hey,” you replied, completely flat. You sat beside him, scrolling through your phone. “Long day.”

He blinked. “Uh… yeah. Kinda.”

Silence.

He waited.

You offered him a sip of your drink. No affection. No flirt. No sparkle.

He narrowed his eyes. “You okay?”

“Mmhmm.”

He leaned in slightly. “You sure? You're being weird.”

You shrugged. “I’m fine.”

You saw it hit him — subtle but real. A flicker of confusion in his eyes. He looked away, biting the inside of his cheek like he was trying to solve a math equation with emotions.

Then… his voice dropped, quieter.

“Did I… do something?”

You glanced at him, feigning confusion. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated, then reached into his jacket pocket — pulling out a tiny velvet box.

Your breath caught. Wait what.

He opened it slowly: a simple silver ring on a thin chain.

“I know we said we weren’t doing anything big for the six-month thing,” he said, eyes still down, “but I just… I saw this and thought of you. You like little things that feel permanent.”

Your mouth parted, guilt instantly slamming you in the chest.

He looked up. “Unless… you didn’t remember. Which is fine, seriously. I didn’t expect—"

“Wait, wait, wait—” you cut in, grabbing his hand. “It’s a prank. It was a prank. I remembered. I super remembered.”

His eyes widened. “You what.”

“I was trying to get a reaction out of you,” you admitted, laughing nervously. “You always play it so cool. I thought you’d be smug and say something like, ‘Guess who didn’t forget?’ and then I’d laugh and reveal the real gift and—oh my god you bought me jewelry.”

He stared at you. “You absolute gremlin.”

You reached into your bag and pulled out a box of your own, practically shoving it into his chest. “Here. Yours. Real. Not a prank.”

He opened it to find a silver bracelet, etched with the coordinates of where you first met.

He blinked slowly.

“…You’re disgusting,” he said, voice soft.

“You love it.”

He exhaled hard — then, finally, smiled for real. That wide, boyish grin he tried to hide behind eyeliner and sarcasm. His ears were bright red.

“You seriously had me spiraling,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Because you’re soft,” you teased.

He shot you a look. “No, I’m cool. I’m smooth. I’m mysterious.”

“You were ten seconds from emotional collapse.”

He leaned closer, bumping his forehead to yours. “And you love that.”

You smiled, lips brushing his. “I really do.”

——————————

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ The “Tiny Meal” prank on Romance⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The morning sunlight filtered softly through the paper screens of the dorm room, painting golden lines across the hardwood floor. The air was still, save for the slow, even breaths of Romance beside you—hair mussed from sleep, lashes casting gentle shadows over his cheekbones.

You tiptoed out of the futon with the kind of stealth usually reserved for a trained demon hunter. You had a plan. A dumb, tiny, hilarious plan. But it was your plan, and you knew he’d either love it… or mock you for it for weeks.

You tiptoed into the kitchen, stifling a giggle. On the counter: a thimble-sized teacup. A miniature plate. A fork no bigger than your pinky nail. It had taken you a whole hour to prep these ridiculous little dishes the night before. A tiny egg (quail, of course), a single bite of toast, and a speck of strawberry jam.

All perfectly arranged on the world’s tiniest breakfast tray.

As you walked back into the room balancing the tray, you heard the soft shuffle of sheets. His voice, low and drowsy, called out:

"Mmnh... [Your Name]? Where’d you go…?"

You knelt beside the futon, holding out the tiny tray like a prize. “Good morning, sunshine,” you said, biting back a grin. “I made you breakfast.”

He blinked sleepily, then squinted at the tray. A beat of silence. Then—

“…What the hell is that?” His voice cracked mid-laugh.

You giggled. “Your morning meal, brave hunter. Protein, carbs, love. All in one centimeter.”

He sat up, the blanket falling to his lap, revealing the curve of his collarbone and the sleepy slope of his shoulders. Hair sticking up wildly, he reached out one elegant finger to poke the mini toast.

“This is… is this even edible?”

You nodded solemnly. “I toasted that piece with my own hands. Used tweezers.”

A wide grin broke across his face. That lazy, lopsided one that always made your stomach flip. “You’re unbelievable.”

Then, with exaggerated seriousness, he picked up the miniature fork between his thumb and forefinger, tried to stab the tiny egg—and immediately dropped it back onto the tray.

“I can’t do this. I’m going to starve.”

You smirked, reaching behind you and pulling out a second tray—the real breakfast, full-sized and warm.

He laughed so hard he had to bury his face in your neck. “You’re evil,” he mumbled against your skin, arms wrapping around your waist.

“You love it,” you teased, letting your fingers slide through his hair.

He leaned back to look at you, his eyes still crinkled with laughter but softening into something tender. “I really do.”

And then, with the tiniest fork in hand, he fed you the equally tiny toast piece.

“For love. And carbs,” he whispered dramatically

———————————

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ The “ignoring my boyfriend” prank on Mystery⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The moment you stepped into the training room, you could feel his eyes on you.

Mystery was already there, like always — perched casually on the window ledge, his black hoodie draped over his shoulder, sword leaning against the wall behind him. His arms were crossed, expression unreadable. He didn’t speak. He never did first.

Perfect.

You walked right past him without a word.

He watched you. Silent. Still. Barely blinking.

You pulled out your phone, scrolling with exaggerated focus. Inside, you were screaming. You knew he hated being ignored. Not in the way a normal boyfriend might pout or whine — no, Mystery just went quiet. Colder. Like ice packing itself around him.

It was part of why the prank was so fun... and a little dangerous.

He finally moved. Just one step.

“Did I do something?” he asked, voice low and distant, like a fog rolling across a lake.

You didn’t look up. Instead, you texted no one. Blinked blankly at the wall. Bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from cracking.

A long pause.

He tilted his head slightly, jaw tight. “...You’re not going to speak to me?”

You didn’t respond. Not even a shrug.

He stared at you for a few seconds longer. Then without a word, he turned and walked out of the room. No sound, no heavy footsteps — just vanished like smoke into the hall.

Your heart dropped.

“Mystery—!” you called after him, breaking character. You chased him down the corridor, nearly stumbling over your own feet.

You found him just outside the practice hall, his back to you, eyes shadowed under his bangs.

“I was joking!” you said breathlessly. “It was a prank. The ‘ignoring my boyfriend’ prank. You weren’t actually—wait, were you mad?”

He turned slowly, expression as calm as ever. But there was something just behind it — not anger, not even hurt, but a kind of distance. The kind that made your chest tighten.

“I wasn’t mad,” he said quietly. “I just figured you wanted space. So I gave it to you.”

Oof.

You stepped closer, reaching for his sleeve. “I didn’t mean to push you away. I just thought it’d be funny. You’re always so… unreadable. I wanted to see if you’d crack.”

His lips twitched — the smallest hint of a smirk. “So you were testing me?”

“Maybe a little.”

He finally turned to face you fully. “You didn’t get much of a reaction.”

“No,” you admitted. “But somehow, that made it worse.”

He stepped into your space, his voice a soft hush. “You want a reaction now?”

You nodded, breath catching.

Without warning, his hand cupped your chin gently, tilting your face toward his. His lips brushed yours, light as falling ash — but the intent behind it was unmistakable. Intense. Possessive in that quiet way only Mystery could pull off.

He pulled back just enough to whisper:

“Don’t ignore me again. I don’t like it.”

You blinked up at him, stunned.

Then he added, deadpan: “But if you do… make sure the next prank includes kissing.”

—————————

˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ The “I don’t think I like muscles anymore” prank on Abs⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

a/n: I just added the rest of the Saja Boys!!

[ladysaja]

THIS IS LITERALLY SO GOOD 😍

A REQUIEM: chapter one

– Summary: When your friend vanishes, their disappearance becomes buried under the massive wave of missing person cases. You take matters into your own hand, initiating your own investigation in hopes to find their possible whereabouts. The clues you have lead you to the Saja Boys.

– Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender neutral reader.

– Note: Will I continue this? I can. Potentially. It can be a small series, probably no longer than five parts in total. Let me know what y'all think? I just wanted to put this part out there because I had the idea simmering for a few hours and finally had to write it out.

– Pages: 3

ch. I | ???

A phone and a conversation. Those were the only two things left behind when your best friend mysteriously went missing one day. Just two clues, and nothing more. No one could answer where or why they just up and vanished, as if they never even existed. There were no traces. 

At first, the local authorities had taken the case seriously. At least, as serious as it could be taken when there were no ominous signs that your dear friend was in any danger. They had asked if your friend had a habit of disappearing, perhaps they went off grid for a bit, it does happen sometimes. But this wasn’t like that, you were sure of it. 

When the missing person cases piled up, your best friend was practically left forgotten, just a face on a poster buried under a heaping pile of more missing person posters. While the police may have forgotten about your friend in the sudden overwhelming surge of dozens of missing persons, you could not forget them. If they would not find them, then you would. 

There were only those two clues: the phone and a conversation. 

Their phone had been found by an alleyway just outside their apartment, between living facilities and a twenty-four hour convenience store. You managed to recover the phone, and opened it with the password you had memorized from watching them input it thousands of times. The first thing that greeted you was a bright screen, nearly blinding you with dazzling colors of mint green and pastel yellow bubbles rising above the words Saja Boys –– Join the Pride! Followed by the image of a five member boy band against a cotton candy colored background, beckoning anyone to join them by becoming a fan. The name of the band was too familiar. 

That led you to the second clue. You were likely the last person who talked to your friend before they went missing. Unfortunately, the conversation had been a rather mundane one. They had called you while they were walking home at sunset, raving about some crazy awesome new band performing a free show they found while out at the town. Stanning new boy bands was not high on your list of priorities at the time, so you just hummed along, letting your friend gush and yap about the experience to their little heart’s content. Eventually, after what felt like hours, they decided to end the call once they were by the convenience store next door to their place. And that was it. That was the last time anyone had heard from them. 

The morning after, you woke up to an obnoxious amount of videos hopping on the dance trend plastered all over social media for these Saja Boys and about fifty missed calls from the family and friends of your companion. 

With little to no choice, you tracked down some events where these Saja Boys would appear. The last thing you wanted to do was attend shows or meet and greets with pretty boys while your friend was still nowhere to be found, but this was the only lead you had. Both the phone and the last conversation held mention of the Saja Boys. So, you made your way to one of their events. 

The line must have been miles long with limited entry. There was no way you were waiting, just to be denied entry when you finally got to the front because of a full house. For these sorts of things, you came prepared. Dressed in all black like a funeral, with a very official looking clipboard (the pages just had printed gibberish), a bag of makeup, and a lanyard around your neck, you looked just like an official assistant. This allowed you to practically waltz in through an unlocked back door. No one dared to stop you, not when you schooled your expression into one of calm casualness to mask the hint of anxiety, frustration, and guilt you felt deep down in the pits of your stomach. 

As you attempted to navigate the maze of hallways and corridors, there was that voice of regret nagging at the back of your skull. Maybe, just maybe, if you had not allowed the phone call to end and stayed on the line until they stepped into the threshold of their home, then none of this would have happened. They would still be here, talking your ear off, and you wouldn’t have to be doing this. In the midst of your brooding, you collided with something firm like a wall. 

Those negative thoughts and sentiments faded as you were dragged back into reality. It was loud, from somewhere nearby, there was an announcer entertaining a restless crowd of eager fans. When you looked up, it was then you realized you didn’t hit a wall. You hit a person. 

A face looked down at you, one that was far too perfect to be real. Yes, you knew idols were supposed to appear like the ideal image of perfection, but this was different. Insane, even. A tall frame and skin that just looked soft and flawless, dark hair that was black and without even a single strand out of place, and deep brown eyes that looked down at your meager simple person. You knew that face. The same one that had been gazing at you adoringly from your friend’s phone screen.

“You’re late.” 

You knew that voice. Nevermind that the owner did not seem to really care if you bumped into him or not. Did he even feel it? The same voice that had been beckoning you forward in that video, pleading you with sweet tones to join the Pride. 

“Saja Boys, you’re on in five!” One of the crew members with a headset shouted from somewhere nearby, probably deeper backstage. You knew that name. 

It only took one extra second for you to realize that this man wasn’t alone, he was joined by the others just a few feet behind him. Five in total, each almost as brilliant and radiant as the last. It was impossible to tear your eyes away, but something was off. There was something in the back of your mind, like an alarm going off. They were all looking at you with mixed reactions of plain boredom or devilish smiles of amusement, and suddenly you felt as if you were some timid creature that had intentionally and rather stupidly wandered straight into the lions’ den. 

The dark haired one, who you had to assume was the leader of this group, eyed you up and down. For a split second, he appeared repulsed as if the mere sight of you was displeasing. When you blinked, he was now giving you such a poised and charming smile. Did you just imagine that? He extended a hand, and you weren’t sure if he was looking for a handshake or expecting you to elegantly place your hand in his as if he were a charming prince. “You’re going to help us, aren’t you, assistant?”

[ladysaja]

I just read it and I am IN LOVE 🤤 You cooked with this one 💪🏻

I got sucked into kpdh and I've been listening to Your Idol nonstop since it came out so ofc I'm gonna write fics about my favourite boys.

I'm cooking up a yandere!abby x male sajaboy!OC x yandere!romance fic so stay tuned.

[ladysaja]

AAAAAAAAAA THIS IS SOOOOO GOOODDDD.

Thanks for creating this masterpiece 😻

𝕲𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖕, 𝕭𝖆𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖕

yandere!abby × saja boys!OC × yandere!romance

tw: dubcon/noncon, ddde, male reader (trans reader), bareback, yandere, not Beta'd

ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅɴɪ. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ, ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅ. ɪ ᴀᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇꜱᴘᴏɴꜱɪʙʟᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴜᴍᴘᴛɪᴏɴ.

you don't know what it was this time. maybe your eyes lingered too long on the huntrix during the joint signing, or a fanboy had gotten too close to you for their liking.

whatever it was, it was hard to remember exactly what set them off with abby at your back, sucking hickeys down your spine, and romance teasing your front.

"that's it," romance coos in-between kisses. deft fingers run up your exposed chest, tugging at your perked nipples. "you're doing so good for us."

your eyes flutter shut, gasping into his mouth as abby slowly sinks into you. "ah, hyung!"

sharp teeth dig into your neck, hard enough to draw blood. you choke on a broken moan. your claws dig into romance's thighs, but his smile only deepens in appreciation as you fall apart from abby's ministrations.

"shhh, you're okay," he whispers, brushing his lips against your eyelids. "such a good boy."

"I-I can't—"

you cry out as a hand tugs at your hair, forcing you to arch your back into abby. "don't be a brat. don't you want to make it up to your hyungs?"

sinful moans slip from your lips as he bottoms out, filling you up deeper than you've ever experienced. tears burn behind your eyelids. you throw your head further back, resting it against his shoulder.

"it's okay, just take it." romance rubs your lower lip with his thumb, pressing kisses to your cheeks, your nose, your forehead. "you're being such a good boy for us."

"he's just a cock-hungry slut who goes belly-up for anyone who gives him attention," snarls abby.

romance tsks, flicking him on the forehead. "don't be a brute." he turns his attention back to you. "don't listen to him, he's just jealous you gave aegyo to a fan," he says, conspiratorially. "but we both know that you belong to us."

cringing, you push away from him.

I don't being to anyone. I'm my own person, not a chew toy for you—

"look at me."

you shake your head, inching as far away from him as their grips allow.

abby gives you a particularly hard thrust, knocking the air out of you. "what did I say about being a brat?"

you growl—the sound pitiful compared to the noises you'd heard the two men make—about to say something you'll regret when a sharp flash of pain cuts across your cheek.

your eyes fly open involuntarily and you shoot abby a hurt look. but his eyes aren't even on you—they're fixed on romance, jaw slack in shock.

sharp nails rake down your sides, romance leaning forward til your faces are almost touching.

"don't you have something to say to us?"

"i—ah!" you cry out as he grabs the base of your cock. he squeezes slightly in warning, causing pinpricks of pain and pleasure lacing up your spine. "answer me."

you writhe in his unrelenting hold, tears threatening to fall. "I'm s-sorry," you stutter.

your vision goes white when he tightens his grip. "you can do better than that."

"I think he's learnt his lesson."

"Shut up, Abby. I didn't tell you to stop fucking him—besides, how can he learn if we never correct his mistakes?"

You gasp in pain, tears falling freely now. "I-I'm sorry, hyung. i w-won't... won't do it again. you're right I'm just a c-cock hungry—ah! slut who belongs to you."

the pain lifts and you collapse into his waiting arms. "there's my sweet boy." romance smiles as if he didn't just strike you. "i knew you'd come around."

yellow eyes bore into yours, the same kind that you were cursed with not long ago. he hums a low note, stroking your sweat-dampened hair, and if you concentrate hard enough, you can almost pretend it's out of love.

but then romance grips your jaw in his hand and your brief respite comes crashing down.

"now be a good boy and fuck youself on abby's cock."

based off this 🌽 video: enjoy

find me on ao3

[ladysaja]

✦•·.·¯˚·.·• 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑫𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒚 𝑴𝒆 •·.·˚¯·.·•✦

CW: oral sex (m!receiving)

Jinu makes you kneel and apologize with your mouth full, his cock twitching as he forces you to hold eye contact. (jinu x demon!reader)

As you gazed upward at Jinu, your commander, your superior, you felt a shiver run down your spine. You had failed him. You were meant to shadow the Huntrix through the third quadrant, and instead, you'd stood frozen, captivated by a world you no longer belonged to. You had disobeyed, not just been late.

His golden gaze pierced through you like twin blades dipped in contempt. You dropped to your knees, forehead touching the backs of your trembling hands, body folded in supplication. The thick silence between you seared into your skin.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you whispered, voice cracking under the weight of his attention. “I… I didn’t mean to lose them.”

You were unable to gaze upon him, as his power washed over you like a wave—divine, terrible, and beautiful. It always made your body hum, half in fear, half in something far filthier.

The air shifted. Heavy. Hot. Your skin prickled, breath catching. He was close…so close you could feel the pull of his presence like gravity. When you finally dared to look up, your breath hitched.

Jinu had crouched in front of you, his onyx hair falling across his brow in perfect, deliberate disarray. Moonlight kissed the violet crest etched into his skin, making it shimmer like a living brand. He tilted his head, smiled. Not warm. Not kind. No—dangerous.

“You disobeyed me,” he said, voice low and silk-slick, dragging over your nerves like a blade wrapped in velvet.

Your thighs clenched. Every instinct screamed at you that he was angry, and yet… he smiled. A predator’s grin stretched over his sharp features, his eyes molten with restrained heat. You couldn’t help it. You were already drowning in him.

“I just… I saw the sky again. I saw the people. I got caught up.” You knew it sounded weak. It was weak. But the past didn’t matter. Not here. Not with him.

“You failed your mission,” Jinu murmured, leaning in, his breath brushing your cheek. “But you can still prove you’re loyal.”

His fingers traced your jaw, thumb stroking your lips as though coaxing a promise from them. That smile, the one that meant you were his now, spread further as his sharpened canines flashed.

The ache between your legs throbbed harder.

Without a word, you nodded, the heat of shame and arousal curling through you like smoke. Dropping lower, you moved to all fours as he sat, knees spreading wide in invitation. Your hands found the waistband of his dark trousers, pulling them down inch by inch. His cock jumped out, and it was thick, hard, and hot.

You swallowed hard.

Your mouth opened automatically, and his fingers tangled into your hair before you could even take him in fully. The moment the hot, heavy weight of his cock rested on your tongue, you moaned. His flavor was overpowering, musky, and salty, and it enveloped your senses.

Then he yanked your hair, forcing your eyes open.

“Don’t look away from me,” he growled, gold eyes blazing, the violet mark across his skin glowing faintly with each word. One command that combined punishment, power, and desire.

You moaned in reply, the sound muffled by his cock. Eyes locked on his, you sucked harder, tongue swirling around the head as you bobbed slowly, deliberately. The obscene sound of your lips wrapped around him echoed in the alcove, wet and messy and shameless.

Your mouth was drooling, spit sliding down your chin as you hollowed your cheeks and pushed deeper. His guttural, low groan caused your pussy to clench in response. You were dripping now, the heat between your thighs unbearable.

Jinu’s fingers tightened, guiding your rhythm, his cock sliding deeper with each thrust. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you didn’t stop. Couldn’t. You were too far gone.

Your moans became more desperate, more feral, as your body rocked slightly in place, the need between your legs building with every second his cock filled your mouth.

“Keep going,” he said, his voice edged with hunger now. “Show me you're still useful.”

And you would. You would show him with your mouth, your body, and even your soul if he asked. Because even in punishment, he made you feel needed. Wanted. Owned.

And it was fucking delicious.

The way your lips stretched around his cock with intense hunger and your eyes settled on his without wavering was overwhelming. There was heat in your gaze, a silent confession of every filthy craving you harboured. And he saw it all. Jinu looked down at you like he could read the sin etched into your soul.

“I think you like this,” he growled, voice thick with lust as his grip tightened in your hair. His cock thrust deep, the head hitting the back of your throat with a wet slap. Saliva spilled down your chin, coating his length in a glistening sheen. “Is this what you want every time you fuck up? Every time you defy me?”

He sped up, his hips stuttering with urgency as he chased the edge, his pace sharp and unrelenting. You moaned around him, eyes fluttering, but never looking away. Your fingers twitched against the floor, aching to ease the molten need pulsing between your thighs. But you didn’t dare stop. Not when he was using your mouth like this. Not when you loved it.

The slick, obscene sound of your throat swallowing him only fuelled his thrusts, faster now, messier. He kept quiet until he let out a low hiss, and then he poured into you.

A thick, salty flood coated your tongue, and you whimpered, swallowing quickly, greedily. Still, it was too much. A few drops escaped, trailing down your chin, mixed with spit, smearing your skin as his cock finally slipped from your mouth with a soft, wet pop.

You gasped, lips swollen, throat sore, breath ragged.

Jinu leaned in, his touch unexpectedly gentle as he tucked a strand of your ruined hair behind your ear. That cherubic smile curved his lips, sweet and dangerous.

“Don’t disobey me again,” he murmured, brushing his thumb across your slick cheek. Then, softer, darker—teasing: “Or do. And we’ll do this all over again.”

[ladysaja]

✦⁺₊✩☽⋆𝓢𝓪𝔂 𝓜𝔂 𝓝𝓪𝓶𝓮⋆☾✩⁺₊✦

CW: p in v, soft

Jinu's buried deep inside you, slow and thick, whispering your name while you struggle to say his. (jinu x hunter!reader)

It was supposed to be a game. Just fun. A filthy, secret arrangement between a hunter and the demon she should’ve killed. Jinu had slipped into your life like a shadow in silk, all smirks, and charm, stealing your breath before you realized how deep you were in.

It could’ve been a love story. Sweet. Poetic, even.

If not for the fact that he was a demon.

And you?

You were this generation’s chosen demon hunter.

You should’ve gutted him the first night. Instead, you let him touch you. You let him whisper lies between kisses and slide into your bed like he belonged there. You convinced yourself it was temporary. Just one more night. Just one more fuck. One more lie. One more reason not to end it.

Now, here you were, beneath him, legs parted and trembling, cunt dripping and stretched tight around his cock as he drove into you like he owned you.

A ragged gasp tore from your lips as he loomed over you, wearing that too-perfect human mask. His skin was smooth and pale, flushed from the friction, and his dark hair clung to his forehead where your fingers had been just minutes ago. His hips rolled slow and deep, each stroke punching a moan from your lungs. You could feel every vein, every pulse of his cock inside you, and you hated how good it felt.

With his cock pushed in to the hilt, his head brushed that soft, sensitive spot deep inside that caused your toes to curl and your back to arch as he leaned in and gave you a slow, wet, and hungry kiss. His canines grazed your lip, too sharp for a human.

You cried out, voice trembling. “F-fuck, hurry up.”

You rolled your hips, chasing the rhythm, chasing the high that would drown out the guilt. Maybe if you came hard enough, you could forget. Just for a moment. Forget that your thighs were wrapped around the enemy. Forget that your soul was supposed to damn his, not crave it.

But Jinu only smiled, cruel and soft. The faint shimmer of his violet mark flickered across his skin, like an echo of truth you didn’t want to see.

“You always get impatient when you're close,” he murmured, voice like warm velvet soaked in debauchery. His cock dragged out slowly, so slow it burned, before sinking back in inch by inch until your pussy swallowed him whole again. “Let me enjoy you. Just a little longer.”

“Basta—”

He cut you off with a low groan, his hips rocking forward until you felt his pelvis grind flush against your clit, sending sparks through your core. You whimpered, and he chuckled darkly against your skin.

Your legs locked around his waist, and you ground against the rough patch of hair at his base, desperate, clit rubbing just right. You were so close you could taste it, feel your walls fluttering in anticipation. You could’ve come if he hadn’t grabbed your hips and stopped you.

“Are you serious?” you gasped, your orgasm teetering on the edge, denied. Your eyes flared open, fury, and desperation twisting in your chest.

Then… you saw it.

Something flickered behind his gaze. A crack in the mask. Not lust. Not smugness. Something else.

Vulnerability.

Before you could speak, he leaned in and pressed his forehead to yours, still buried deep inside you. The moment was so intimate, so wrong, your throat locked up.

He whispered your name like a prayer. Like it meant something.

You froze.

Your thoughts crashed into each other, a thousand voices screaming inside your skull, but not one word made sense. You couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Only feel.

Then…his lips brushed yours. Gentle. Barely there. A whisper of warmth that lingered like a ghost before he rolled his hips again, slow, deliberate, every inch of his cock dragging against your trembling, soaked walls. He whispered your name under his breath—again, and again, like it was a prayer. Like it hurt to say it, and he said it anyway.

And that…that did something to you.

Jinu had never said your name before. Not once. Not in jest. Not in bed. Not even when you first met. You hadn’t spoken his either. Names were power. Names made things real.

But now, his voice was stripped of arrogance, his usual teasing lilt gone. He sounded bare. Exposed.

His hands slid up your waist, slow and reverent, until they cupped your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks like you were fragile. “Say my name,” he whispered.

You blinked, heart hammering.

“What…?” your voice cracked.

He stilled inside you, cock buried deep, pulsing with restraint. “Say my name,” he repeated, firmer this time, but his touch stayed gentle. Then, softer: he whispered yours again.

His thumb swept under your eye, like he was memorizing the shape of you. And you— You wanted to stay quiet. You should’ve. You knew what it would mean. If you said it now, like this, while his cock was inside you and your bodies were fused in sweat and sin, there’d be no going back. You couldn’t lie to yourself anymore.

It would be real. And real meant dangerous.

But your hand found his face. And you kissed him. Slow. Tender. Devastating.

“…Jinu,” you breathed.

His entire body tensed, then melted. His eyes shone, lips parting into a smile so bright it hurt to look at, and for a terrifying moment, you thought he might cry.

Then he moved.

A sudden, brutal snap of his hips had you gasping. He fucked into you with reckless hunger, with something feral, like the sound of his name on your lips had broken him wide open.

Your hands flew to the sheets, twisting tight as he rammed into you again, and again, burying himself deep enough to ruin you. His cock dragged deliciously against your tender walls, your clit aching each time his hips slammed into yours with sharp, wet smacks. It was filthy. Loud. Animal.

And through it all, he whispered your name over and over, like a prayer, like he wanted to brand it into the moment.

Your moans blended with his, messy and breathless, echoing off the walls, your bodies locked in rhythm, in sin, in something far too close to love.

His mark glowed faintly across his chest and throat, deep violet beneath the amber light that slipped through your window. 

Demon. 

Lover. 

Liar. 

Yours.

“Fuck,” you sobbed, as your legs shook, your body spiralling toward release.

He didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

Your back arched as your orgasm tore through you, a white-hot wave crashing down. Your pussy clenched around him, greedy, milking him. And with a shudder, he followed. Hips jerking, cock twitching deep inside you as he spilled his cum in thick, pulsing waves, burying himself as far as he could go.

Neither of you moved.

The only sound in the room was the ragged cadence of your breathing, your bodies tangled, your souls too close for comfort.

You closed your eyes, chest rising and falling.

You shouldn’t have said his name.

But you did.

Now all the lies you told yourself came apart slowly, gently, and cruelly.

This wasn’t just sex anymore.

You made it real.

And it was going to destroy you.

[ladysaja]

Welcome to my masterlist of all of my stories for Kpop-Demon Hunters! Can you tell which Saja Boys is my favourite? This masterlist is still under construction, since I'm actively posting for this fandom! For those who prefer to read on AO3, you guys can click HERE!

⊹₊ ⋆ You Disobey Me

Jinu makes you kneel and apologize with your mouth full, his cock twitching as he forces you to hold eye contact.

⊹₊ ⋆ Say My Name

Jinu's buried deep inside you, slow and thick, whispering your name while you struggle to say his.

⊹₊ ⋆ Beg

He has you on the floor, naked, touching yourself for him and only letting you finish when he hears your voice crack.

⊹₊ ⋆ Louder, Baby

Jinu uses a vibrator while f⭐︎cking you, demanding moans, but then covers your mouth with his palm to muffle your screams.

⊹₊ ⋆ Smile for the Camera

Releasing on July 8, 2025

⊹₊ ⋆ No One Else

Releasing on July 9, 2025

⊹₊ ⋆ Keep Going

Releasing on July 11, 2025

⊹₊ ⋆ Monster

Releasing on July 12, 2025

⊹₊ ⋆ Sharing is Caring

Releasing on July 10, 2025 (jinu x reader x abby)

[ladysaja]

A Little Fun....

His cock pumped in and out of you his head twitching at the feeling of your delicate walls, your choked out moans muffled by his hand as he covered your mouth, the sound of skin slapping skin echoed through the hall arousing you even more, the excitement of being caught.

His hand tightened around your mouth, your panting breath squeezing out through the small gaps in his fingers, his eyes stared down at yours, his were half lidded and filled with lust, he groaned feeling your walls twitch around him, his breath fanning your face.

Your body squirmed against him, his body caged you against the wall, his body jerked into you, pounding his hips into yours, he could feel his release building up side him his determination of filling you, claiming you only increasing as he saw your face twist in pleasure.

"cum for me, let me know how fucking amazing I make you feel, cum for me so I can fill you up and make you mine"

Katsuki Bakugo, Dabi, Keigo Takami, Kei Tsukishima, Tobio Kageyama, Toru Oikawa, Tetsurō Kuroo, Keishin Ukai, Abby Saja, Jinu, Baby Saja, Mystery Saja

[ladysaja]

abby N$FW alphabet

MDNI! pretty sure it's gn!reader but lmk if i missed anything :)

m.list

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

oh he's so sweet afterwards, no matter how hard he goes. he's a very physically affectionate person, so you can guarantee that after he gets you cleaned up and takes you to the bathroom he's gonna get back in bed with you. he loves skinship, nd naked cuddling is one of his favorite aftercare activities. he also loves taking a bath together afterwards.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

now hear me out. i know he's named after his abs, but his arms are his favorite part of himself. they the way his sleeves stretch around them gives him such an ego boost. he likes the way his bicep presses against your face when he has you in a headlock a little TOO much... he also loves how they look manhandling you.

he loves your hips. the way they move when you walk is hypnotizing, even if you aren't trying to move them. he can't get enough of how the skin spills between his fingers when he holds them while you ride him; they're so cute, they make him want to cum inside you. a strong second contender is your hands. they look so small compared to his muscles, and the way your nails scratch against his abs and back drive him wild.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

his cum is so thick and creamy. he cums an average amount, and it always shoots out in pretty ropes. he loves watching the ropes fly across your skin and seeing how he decorates you. because of his healthy lifestyle, it tastes better than any you've eaten before, and isn't too salty.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he's seriously thought about being a camboy or starting a porn account. he's too embarrassed to admit it and too scared to ask you if you'd ever be into it, so it'll probably stay a secret forever (unless you bring it up to him).

he also steals your panties. he knows he can just ask, but he likes it better when you ask him about them and he can give you a proud smirk before pulling them, stained and stretched, from his pocket.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he may be more than 100 years old, but i think he has moderate experience. he hasn't had many previous partners, but he definitely knows what he likes. he doesn't really know what he's doing if it's not in his routine, but his bullshitting game is top-tier.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

classic missionary or mating press. your facial expressions and reactions get him off. he can get so deep in a mating press and relishes in how it makes you both see stars. he likes you to have access to scratch his back or give him hickeys (he has a huge marking kink).

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he's mostly serious, but leaves room for teasing and goofing around, especially for typically awkward moments. he's never made you feel embarrassed for awkward moments because he always turns them into things you can both laugh about.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he keeps it short, but isn't clean shaven. his hair isn't naturally pink (his eyebrows :/ ), so the carpet doesn't technically match the drapes (world's biggest tragedy imo), but he dyes it pretty often, especially when he grows it longer.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

sex is not very intimate most of the time (although when he does joke around it feels intimate). he can go pretty hard during sex, but aftercare is super intimate with him. it keeps a nice balance. you do have intimate sex sometimes, but it usually happens right after waking up.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he jerks off pretty often, usually using your panties or just his hand. he watches videos you've made together or asks you to send him pictures of yourself. when you're apart, he enjoys having phone sex. he'll hold the mic next to his cock as he strokes it, using lube so you can hear his movements.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

he has a huge marking kink and i'm so here for it. he likes it both ways; it's undeniably hot to see you together in public with matching hickeys and bites. he'll deny it, but the sting of a fresh scratch or the soreness of a new hickey lowkey get him off.

he's also a little but of an exhibitionist, but the fantasy stays mostly in his head. if you do anything in public, he'll try to keep the risk to a minimum. he frequently jacks off to the idea of inviting one of the saja boys to watch you two, though.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

honestly, anywhere, anytime. he particularly loves the shower and over the kitchen counter, but it's hard to beat the comfortability anc convenience of the bed. if he does catch you taking a shower, though, he will come in and try to rile you up.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

honestly, he's pretty easy to turn on. a hand on his thigh always does it to him, especially if you get your nails done; thinking of those pretty hands scratching his back or wrapped around his cock makes him throb.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

dacryphilia. if he sees tears in your eyes from anything other than your gag reflex, he'll stop. while he does enjoy going rough, he doesn't want you hurt or overstimulated to the point of tears. he'll pull out immediately and wrap you in his arms, covering you with a plush blanket. his priority is always ot make sure you're taken care of.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he prefers receiving, but he always returns the favor. he's good at it, no matter what anatomy you have, and always makes you finish when he uses his tongue. even so, there's something a little too addicting about seeing your pretty lips wrap around his cock, or watching how your throat takes all of his length.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

he goes at a pretty normal speed, but his thrusts are always hard and deep. he'll speed up and give more shallow thrusts as he gets close, but he stays buried deep in you. when he's jealous, he goes at an insane speed, overstimulating you in mere minutes with his brutal pace. if you ever have morning sex or sleep together after a romantic date, he'll slow down a bit, but for the most part he keeps an average speed.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he's down for quickies. he can never just do a quickie, though– he'll always come back later and take his time with you. he likes savoring the moment but can't deny the convenience of a quickie before you leave for a date.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he's down to try almost anything at least once. if you come to him with a fantasy you'd like to try, it's rare that he says no. he'll look into it online a bit and ask what parts you like the most. if it doesn't go well, it's no big deal to him– you two can always fall back on the things you do like.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he can last two rounds pretty often, but the most he's ever done is four (and a half? five?). he's tried to do marathons with you before, but when he got to the fifth round on your longest one he was shooting blanks. you've milked him to three rounds before by riding him, too, and he swears he ascended into heaven. he could hardly move when you were done, his cock somehow still half hard and leaky after you got too tired to keep going.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he owns toys, but doesn't use them often. he has a butt plug and a vibrator, and the vibrator is really the only one that sees the light of day. he usually uses it when you're together to spice things up. he also bought a fleshlight when he was single, but he doesn't really use it now that he has you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he teases frequently, but it's not always in his routine. he likes to make you beg for it, but it's rare that he leaves you unsatisfied. he doesn't often do intense teasing, but does enjoy playing with his food (he'll cave within minutes, he is a little desperate himself lol).

on occasion, he really just wants to savor you. he'll take his time, building up to it throughout the day with flirting and small romantic gestures. he fucks you passionately, romantically, and goes so gentle with you, like he's scared he'll break you. he honestly just wants to worship you; he's amazed that someone so incredible is his.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he's loud. he moans so much man. when he pushes into your tight entrance, he always hisses through gritted teeth. he groans with his thrusts, but his moans are the loudest as he approaches his orgasm. when he actually does cum, he whimpers, which you would find adorable if he hadn't just rearranged your guts.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

he's bisexual and i know this. i just need to put it out there. take it from a bi person. he came to me in a dream and told me so himself.

he also loves shower and mirror sex. he loves the sensation of hot water sliding over your bodies as he ruts into you, and he can't get enough of how his thrusts and your moans echo in the space. when he fucks you in front of a mirror, he makes sure you look at yourself, his large hand grabbing your chin, teeth grazing your neck as he commands you to watch as he splits you open.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

he's the biggest of the saja boys for sure. keeping semi-realistic measurements, i'd say he's got 18 cm/just over 7 in. in length and about 16 cm/ just over 6 in. in girth at his thickest point. he has one of those pretty cocks that's just a little thinner on the half closer to his body, and it always feels so good when he pushes it in. the color is actually pretty close to his skin tone, but the top half flushes an angry pink when he's hard. his balls are pretty average in size, but hang a little lower than most.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

he has a pretty high sex drive. he'll usually want to have sex once a day, sometimes twice. it's not incredibly frequent, but often enough to keep you on your toes. he loves an eager partner, though, and can keep up if you want to fuck more often.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

bro passes outttt. you'll cuddle for 20 minutes or so, but he'll fall asleep so fast after that. he's dozed off mid conversation before. when he falls asleep after sex, he sleeps deeper than usual, and it's hard to wake him up.

m.list

[ladysaja]

Ya'll give me some Ideas on what to write about

To my previous poll on which Saja Boy to write Smut fiction (winner was Jinu) but I'm currently having writers block which is so badddd, like I don't know what to write about honestly so I'll ask my followers

You can inbox me some Ideas on what to write about and I'll see what happens :))

-A<3