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ℝ𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕘𝕖 // Baby Saja

// DATE // 23rd of June 2025 -> 26th of June 2025 // WORDS // 16.7k+ // SUMMARY // Reader is a member of Huntr/x, Rumi's twin sister to be precise. Y/n doesn't want to hide who she is anymore. Wanting to prove to Rumi that Mira and Zoey will trust them, she shares what she is knowing Rumi will back her up. Only they don't trust her and Rumi sends her to her death or so she thought, now it's time for revenge.

- Everything below this until the gif can be considered as spoilers. Be surprised and skip straight to the story or read the rest in this section at your own risk. MDNI! PS. This whole story is a spoiler for the movie if you have not seen it yet! -

// PAIRING // Baby Saja x femHuntrix!reader, Rumi x Jinu, Zoey x Mystery, Romance x Mira x Abby // WARNING // angst, fluff, (soul)mates, explicit smut, again, minor do not interact with this post, dom!baby/sub!reader, p in v, unprotected sx(wrap it before you tap it please), fingering, oral fem receiving, praise kink, biting, mating, possessive behavior, (I think it is) slight humiliation kink

// Main Story // Bonus Chapters //

“Rumi?” I start as I pull on the costume for the Golden promo with her. Did she release Golden maybe a bit early. Most definitely but I will always support her decisions.

“Yeah?”

“I want to tell them,” my voice is quiet, a little afraid of what her reaction will be.

“Y/n, Celine told us to wait,” she almost hisses, fear clear on her face.

“I know, I know,” pulling on the tight white shorts. “But they know us, they know were not like the other demons. Hell, all the other ones are ugly,” Rumi chuckles at that, shaking her head.

“That’s true, but I still think we shouldn’t tell them.”

“Okay, what if only I tell them about me. You don’t have to get involved. I’ll prove to you that they’ll accept us and then you can tell them too!” I tell her with full confidence. No doubt in my mind.

“Okay, I’ll back you up,” I squeal as I pull her into a tight hug.

“Couch! Couch! Couch! Couch!” I hear Mira and Zoey chant as they shuffle their way to the couch arms filled with snacks. Dropping the snacks on the white fluffy couch. Dropping right next to snacks.

“Oh, yeah. That’s the stuff,” Zoey sighs.

“So relaxing,” Mira murmurs sinking into the couch.

“Hey. Have a good break?” Rumi asks appearing behind the two.

“Huh?” Mira looks at her bewilders. “What? No. We literally just sat down!” chuckling I walk around the couch and take a seat on the coffee table.

“Why are you two in your new costumes?” Zoey asks as both sit up, eyes shifting between the two of us.

“Rumi, you didn’t,” both Mira and Zoey turn to Rumi, knowing if it would be either of us it would be Rumi. “Did you announce the new single?” Rumi's only response is a wide grin.

“The promo starts tomorrow- Tonight?”

“Tonight?” Mira and Zoey say in surprise. “Rumi, no! No!” the two start to whine playfully with a sense of true disappointment lacing their voices.

“No!” I hand Zoey her costume while Rumi hands Mira hers.

“But before we leave,” I begin, as the two of them begrudgingly start pulling on the costumes. Their eyes going to me as they keep getting dressed. Not bothered at all about changing in front of us. “I have something to share,” my voice goes from excited to nervous. My eyes flickering between all three. “It’s hard for me, but I don’t think I can hide it for much longer,” I stare down at my shaking hands. Zoey takes one of my hands, squeezing in reassurance.

“We will always be here for you,” she says, a gentle smile gracing her face.

“Well, I-” shaking off the jacket from my costume. The patterns slowly coming into view, drawing gasps from Mira and Zoey. Who pulls away her hand. Both of them drawing their weapons making me jump back standing up at the other end of the coffee table. My heart beating faster than it already did.

“You’re a demon,” Mira’s voice is angry as she spits the words out like she’s disgusted by the sight of me.

“I thought you would-” my voice is shaky and quiet as I stare in disbelief. “Rumi…” my eyes lock on my sisters, a desperate call for help. Zoey and Mira turn to Rumi with a hint of betrayal in their eyes.

“Did you know?” Zoey asks Rumi threateningly. A tone Zoey has never used against us before.

“No,” Rumi’s voice is cold. Detached. But her eyes burn. Drawing her own weapon, pointing the long end of the blade at me as she jumps over the couch. “I can’t believe you would betray us like this,” it’s like she’s saying it to herself for betraying her sister like this. With no other options, she steps up onto the coffee table - like it’s a stage. Like this moment has been building since the day we were born. Driving the blade through my chest. Tears in both our eyes as I shudder. The pain from the tear in my chest making me scream silently and then I implode, collapsing inward in a burst of magenta smoke - silent and final.

I didn’t die like I expected. Instead I found myself leaning on my knees, crying into my arms in front of Gwi ma. The flame entity laughing at my despair.

“Y/n, Y/n, Y/n,” he tsk’ed like he was disappointed to see me. “Guess you should have kept it hidden,” he laughs again deep and evil. “Now you’re my demon!” his voice booms across the crowd of demons who start laughing with their king. The events of tonight start playing over and over in my head loud, feeling like it gets louder and louder. I had no control over it. I couldn't stop them, couldn't dampen them. My hands cover my ears but it doesn't change anything.

I don’t really notice until I open my eyes again. The laughter has died down after I had been moved by Gwi ma, is my guess, to just beyond the crowd of demons.

I tried walking away but kept being dragged back. Making me sigh and stay at the edge of where I was apparently allowed to be. I could barely see any of the other demons through the smoke and deemed myself alone enough. If this was all the space I was allowed to have now, I would take it. Sinking to the lava rock ground. I pull my knees up to my chest. Wrapping my arms around them.

The ground wasn't comfortable. Far from it. But sitting was better than to stay standing. The moment I thought everything settled the voices came back louder than ever before, making me bury my face in my arms.

“Did you know?” “No.” “Okay, I’ll back you up” “I can’t believe you would lie to us like this.”

The voices sounded like screaming, ringing in my ears. Tears running down my face again filled with the pain of betrayal. The feeling of her sword driving into my chest solidified the feeling of betrayal. If there was someone I thought I could trust it would be Rumi.

I don't know how long he tortured me for like this. Making it go silent, giving me a false sense of control before returning it in full. But it feels like an eternity.

Little did I know I was being observed by a group of 400 year old demons who looked awfully human compared to the others. Nor did I notice when one of them approached me. First the male just sat beside me, keeping a bit of a distance. Almost like he didn’t want to startle me.

It was like his calm aura surrounded me, softening the voices that were screaming at me. Blinking away my tears in confusion. Looking right, then left. Finding him sat there. Leaning back on his hands, left knee up, his right leg stretched out.

I couldn't stop my brows from furrowing. Shuffling a little further away from the male. Demons are bad. They can’t be trusted. I tell myself, my gaze falling onto my own patterns. Right, I am one. The patterns hadn’t spread this far before I was sent here. Now I looked like a full demon, even if I knew I was only half a demon. My hands turning into fists realizing I would be stuck here forever.

I didn't acknowledge him. Turning away from him. But it felt like he was too far away. Shaking my head I tried to ignore it. Though it didn't take long for me to break the silence we sat in.

“Why are you here?” I dare to ask. Hating myself for going against everything I believed in.

He doesn't say anything making me sigh. Turning back to him my body relaxes, just a bit as the distance becomes smaller. Loosening the stiffness in my legs. Not understanding why I’m suddenly feeling relaxed, I continue. “Here to mock me? 1 huntress down 3 to go.”

“No.”

It’s short. Stopping me from continuing. I look at him, eyes wide. Taking in his pale purple skin, bright golden eyes, blue hair, traditional black Korean attire. He didn’t look at me. Instead staring off into the distance, not that there was much to see. The area mostly covered in smoke.

“I’m here in case you need someone who understands-”

“Understand? You’re a demon, you feel no emotions! How could you possibly understand?”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he stays calm even after my accusation, like he was expecting me to react this way. “We feel double that what humans feel. We feel extremely. It might shock you, but Gwi Ma keeps us pushed to the edge, so far into madness that we seem numb. But we do feel...” his voice is gentle as he speaks, shifting his gaze away from the smoke, to me. His golden eyes drawing me in.

“What do you feel now?” I ask cautiously curious. Shifting to sit on my side, leaning on my hands - closer to him.

“Sadness,” he confesses. I sense no lies in his eyes. “Seeing my m- you like this, it hurts.”

“You’re what?” he closes his eyes, grunting in annoyance at himself for miss speaking. He doesn't answer, instead he disappears. Immediately Gwi ma's power returns in full force. Falling to my side, my hands cradle my face. Eyes shut tight. My screams are silent at the pain the events cause me.

It feels like I'm in pain for days. My throat hoarse from my crying. I open my eyes suddenly. An unexpected calm falling over me again. He's stood over me this time. I can't read his expression.

I'm not sure what to say, or if I should even say something. Last time he disappeared on me. My eyes follow him as he returns to sit in the same spot as he did before.

"I guess it's in our best interest if I just tell you," he sighs, not facing me just yet. I find the strength in my arms to push myself in a sitting position. Subconsciously dragging myself closer to him. “Give me your hand,” I hesitate a little. Not sure if I should trust him even though he had revealed something I never knew about demons. Something I don’t think a demon would easily confess to, either. His gaze meets mine as I shuffle closer. Carefully placing my hand left hand in his right hand.

A slow ripple spills out from our connected palms. Like black stardust unfurling beneath our skin, soft and shivering. Leaving goosebumps in its wake. Light and shadow dancing like twin spirals up our arms. Disappearing into our chests where our hearts sit. Creating a magnetic pull. A sudden blast surged outward like an orb tearing through the smoke around us. My head seamed to clear only one word occupying my mind.

“Baby.”

“That’s me,” a gentle smile played on his lips. “And you, Y/n, are my mate.”

“Mate?” I repeat it, stunned, like saying it out loud might make it make sense. For years I was told demons didn’t have feelings, that they were all bad, that all should be killed. And now I was mated to one?

But I had to be honest. I didn't mind. He made me feel calm. I don't think I've ever felt this calm. Always on edge. Scared to reveal my secret. Regretting that I shared my secret. I was pretty much powered by anxiety.

“Yes, I understand it’s hard to believe-”

“Oh, no, I believe it’s just… unexpected?” he chuckles soft and gentle making a blush decorate my cheeks. I started to make sense the longer I looked at him. Really took him in. He was my complete opposite, perfect to soothe my racing thoughts.

“Cute,” he says squeezing my hand which he still held.

“Also, I thought all demons were supposed to be ugly,” the bluntness of the comment gets him to full on laugh, the sound low, warming up my chest. I crawl closer without thinking, like the space between us suddenly became unbearable. Now that I know we’re mates, distance feels wrong.

“We are sad to have to share this news on the day of our new singles release,” Rumi tells the host. “But Y/n has left Huntrix.”

“Oh no, what happened?” the host asks with concern, genuine curiosity behind her words.

“We don’t know, it was unexpected,” Mira says, there is sadness in her normally stoic voice.

“She decided she didn’t want to do this anymore,” Zoey adds to the lie.

“We couldn’t convince her to stay.”

“She is your sister, I suppose you’re still in contact with her at least?” the host asks making Rumi’s hard hammer in her chest, the face of her sister silently screaming as she killed her.

“Ah, no,” Rumi keeps it short.

“Golden is the last song Y/n will be featured on from now on,” Zoey quickly takes the attention away from Rumi.

“We will be going on hiatus for a little while to get used to the loss of our member.”

"So, do you..." I start, eyes up at the sky. Baby and I laid on the ground, I used his stomach as a pillow. Forced to even, he would not let me rest my head on the lava rock surface.

"Do I what?" he asks while we watch souls dance above us. None of them flying in the direction of Gwi ma, thankfully.

"Do you get to go up there?" my voice soft, afraid of the answer. He pauses, stilling. Turning my head I look at him. He has his head propped up by his arms. I can just see his golden eyes. Watching them shift ... anxiously?

"No," he finally says. "I'm glad for it," he adds softly. Turning on my side, I can tell he doesn't want to share just yet. So I reassure him in the only way I can think of. Sitting up, I place a gentle peck on his dark lips. Smiling at the way his eyes widen just slightly at my action.

That's not the last peck we share. Far from it. I can't stop stealing them. He doesn't give me them nearly as often, but I know that every time he does, it's sincere.

He lingers, holding on to me like I could slip from his fingers any moment. Whenever we meet his friends there's always this possessive arm around my waist. Not that I mind.

I still remember the first time he introduced us. "Y/n," Baby starts, his arm not leaving my waist. Sending pointed looks at the four demons before me. "These are Jinu, Mystery, Abby and Romance," gesturing from a black haired, smirk wearing one, to a grey haired, not looking at me - I think. To a taller pink haired one who wore a smug look, to the last one. Another pink haired one, this time long flowing locks.

This hand had dared to step forward. Taking my hand swiftly pecking my knuckles before he got smacked in the face by Baby. Who pulled me behind him. Growling possessively.

Laughter bursting within the group and I wouldn't lie. I couldn't stop myself from giggling either.

That moment was pretty much the start of my friendship with the group. There was obviously not a lot to do. But when they showed me they could pretty much create things out of thin air. I asked them if they ever thought of creating game pieces.

Which they hadn't, like how.

In the end they had created game pieces for games out of their time, but I wanted to play something newer. Like UNO. When I asked if they knew what it was, Baby sent an image in my head of something. Confusing me to the point I looked at him like he had just sent me a unsolicited dick pic.

"How did you do that?" I ask after recovering from the random image.

"We're mates," is his simple answer. I arch my brow like, 'okay, so now I'm supposed to understand how that works'. He chuckles at my expression, pecking my cheek. "I just think of what I want to show you, and I sent it to you."

"Oh, okay, I wanna try," instantly thinking of the UNO game. Looking at him wide eyed like that will do it. "Do you see it?" he shakes his head. Thinking... louder? "Am I doing it?" my voice stressed, eyes closed.

"Uhm, no, but you do look constipated," I gasp, opening my eyes at his words in offence. Smacking his chest playfully as the others laugh their asses off. With that I gave up on the whole image sending for a while.

- Spice below, skip to next image divider if you do not want to read it -

While we spend most of our time all together, I did steal Baby from them a lot. Wanting to spend time with him one on one. Get to know him more and more.

He wasn't much of a talker, so it was tough at times. It seemed enough time had past as I could go further than before. Allowing for us to have a private space between a few rocks.

Never the comfortable place of course. Pressing my lips against him hungrily. Sat on the ground, his back against a rock, a tight grip on my hips where I sat in his lap. Keeping me from moving them against him.

"Why are you holding back?" I ask breathless when I pull away. I stare at him, eyes shifting from one to the other. Anxiety rolling over me like a realization. "Do you not-"

"Of course not," his voice gentle as he cups my cheeks, staring loving into my soul. "I just don't want to loose control," I nod, not entirely believing him, my gaze falling from his. "Hey, listen to me," he caresses my cheeks so gentle, getting me to look back up. "If you think you need to pleasure me to make sure I love you," my eyes widen at the fact he can read me so well. "You don't," he waits till I nod. "But," he smirks. "If it's pleasure you want, I'll be happy to give it to you," my cheeks darken at his words. Warmth spreading to more places than one.

To the point I can't stop myself from nodding eagerly. Anxiety, completely forgotten.

"Okay, darling," he pecks my lips. "Turn around," I follow his command like a life line. Leaning my back against him, his arms circling my waist. "Knees up, either side of mine."

Again, like an obedient pet, I do as he asks. Shaking with anticipation. His left hand, caresses the bare skin of waist. Owning just my Golden costume in this realm. Other hand smoothly slipping under the waist band of my shorts. Gasping when his fingers find my heat.

"So wet already," his voice is a sin, whispering in my ear. I can feel his smug gaze on the side of my head. I enjoy it. Just two of his finger play with the slick that gather on my outer lips.

"Please," I'm not even sure I said anything with how soft I spoke. But he heard, loud and clear. Chuckling evilly.

"What do you want, darling?" he teases, sliding his finger tip over my slit, but not parting them. I bite my bottom lip, cheeks red with embarrassment. I felt so filthy having to say it out loud, but I knew I had to. If I didn't he would just tease me for all of eternity. He lays a gentle peck on my neck as if to encourage me, putting light pressure where my lips cover my clit with his fingers.

A moan like gasp and I finally utter. "Touch me."

"Hmm, not precise enough," just those words have me whining in desperation. "But, I'll let you have it this time."

Before I can exhale in relief he parts my lips. Slipping a single finger straight in. Thumb landing on my clit, a shaky moan escaping me instead. Instinctively my legs start to close around his hand.

"Hold them open for me," with shaky hands I hold my thighs open. Breathing heavily at the slow pace his fingers are using. A second had joined inside me, but it wasn't enough.

"F-faster," I beg, head rolling onto his shoulder. A dark chuckle and a third finger gets added. Along with a faster pace. I'm gasping like I can't get enough of this feeling. I'm surprised that his sharp claw like nails don't seem to scratch me, but I'm not complaining.

Moaning at the way his fingers curl inside me, stretch me open. Thumb rubbing smooth circles on my clit. My ears pick up his own grunting. Are my feelings causing him to enjoy it just as much as I am?

The hand that held a grip on my waist, moves up. Slipping under my top. Fingers finding my pebbled buds, squeezing, first testing the waters. The action causing me to subconsciously squeeze around the finger inside me.

"So sensitive, aren't you?" I'm not even sure what exactly I'm nodding to, but I do it anyways. Reaching the edge quicker with every squeeze, every thrust of his fingers. "Go on darling," he whispers in my ear, pointy tongue flicking against my jaw teasingly. "Cum for me."

I do, shuddering franticly as my orgasm rolls over me. Taking over my entire body as he keeps the movements up until my hips move in shocks against the touch. Suddenly overstimulated, breathing heavily.

"Good girl."

Curiosity strikes Abby one random day, while we're playing games again.

"By the way, how did you get here?" it's so out of the blue. Everyone's eyes shooting at him. Baby and Jinu glaring at him like a warning. "What? I'm curious."

Baby tells me I should not feel forced to tell them, his glare not leaving Abby. I place my hand on his thigh, reassuring him that its okay.

After explaining it is when the revenge plan start brewing to life. I don't think I've ever liked feeling this evil until now.

There once was a mighty demon king Stop me if you’ve heard this one before He was in total control He feasted on souls The world trembled when he roared But then some Hunters sang some songs Now all he does is starve Can’t get at the souls, and his flame grows cold Just a whisper in the dark And will he let the fire go out? Is this the end of him now? Dying king with a crumbling crown? Will he let the fire go out?

“I let you keep that voice, Jinu,” Gwi ma says as Jinu approached him with his song. “And you dare to mock me with it?” I stayed near Baby as we slowly followed Jinu closer to Gwi ma.

“I’m not here to mock you. I’m here to help you,” Jinu tells Gwi ma. “It’s time for a new strategy,” the six of us fly up the long staircase. Them in their traditional attire, me still in my Golden promo costume. Safe for the jacket. “We fight the Hunters where they least expect it. Go after the very thing that powers the Honmoon. The fans.”

“A demon boy band?” Gwi ma questions. Bursting out laughing, the crowd following awkwardly. “What makes you think that could work?” Transforming just enough to make them look more human.

“I can help,” I speak up, appearing from behind Baby. “I am from that world, I know how it works. I can be their manager. I won’t be seen. I can make sure they become big.”

“You?” Gwi ma chuckles evilly. “What makes you think I’ll trust you.”

“They betrayed me,” I tell him. “I might not be doing it for you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t pull through if it gives them what they deserve for stabbing me, quite literally.”

“Hmm, alright," he says. "But, that can't just be it, what is it the rest of you expect out of this?" he hums, impatiently waiting for an answer.

"Our memories from before this life, erased," Jinu speaks for them.

“Okay! I have planned for your first performance to be just around the corner from here,” I tell the five as we walk down the alley. Romance, Abby and Mystery walk in front, Jinu following behind them. While I walk with Baby, his arm wrapped possessively around my waist, not that I minded. I wore one of Baby’s sweaters, and a cap to hopefully hide my appearance enough. “You guys know the song, I’ll make sure to make it go viral. Flyers have been handed out and people have already started gathering,” I had my phone out while Baby guides me safely. Making my twirl suddenly before holding me in front of him.

“uh… watch yourself,” I hear Jinu speak to someone. Baby’s hold on me leaving me unable to check to who. But as we walk away I recognize who.

“Watch my… Watch yourself!” Rumi. Looking up at Baby he turns me to face him and places a gentle peck on my lips. As if saying ‘I got you’. Returning at his side we continue walking to our destination. “Oh, Jinu! After the performance don’t forget to announce that you’ll be at everyone’s favorite variety show.”

“Yes, I’ll remember,” I peck Baby on the cheek and let them do their thing. Staying close and keeping my eye out for Rumi, Mira or Zoey. I film their performance. Posting it on social media, creating edits, shorts, posting a prerecorded video of a dance practice I had them do. Watching as the numbers went up and up. The Saja Boys getting more popular by the minute.

Looking at the crowd I could see how much they were enjoying the Saja Boys. The moment they started it had drawn even more people to come check them out.

I couldn’t stop myself from clapping with the crowd when they were done with their performance. Giving Jinu a pointed look as I pulled up the slide for on the screen behind them that showed the variety show they would be at tonight. Jinu first wiped his shoulder clean of nonexistent dust while staring at Rumi who stood scarily close to me.

I thought I had paid enough attention. I catch Baby’s eyes who with just a flick of his eyes moved me away where our eyes connect again. A sigh of relief leaving my body while he sends a wink which has the crowd around me going wild some more. That’s my man, I think I hear a chuckle in my head as I return my gaze to his where he smirks his lips forming one word. Mine.

“That’s it for now. See you tonight on everyone’s favorite variety show,” selecting the slide on my phone it appears behind them as Jinu speaks. “Saja Boys love you!” posing for just a second longer before disappearing with the magenta smoke. A second later, a hand slips into mine before I’m ingulfed in that same magenta smoke. The smoke dissipating around us when we appear in the apartment I got the band.

“You guys did so good!” I clap with excitement, pulling my phone out as I sit down with Baby like a magnetic pull to always be close to him. Baby wraps an arm around my shoulder pulling me closer to him.

“Of course,” Abby smirks. “We’re charming,” as if to prove his point he flexes his arms making me roll my eyes.

“Barely,” I tease, sticking my tongue out at him. “The fans like you because 1, the song is catchy, you’re welcome by the way. 2, you’re hot, we’ll figure out if you’re charming on that variety show. And 3, you guys dance really well,” Abby sticks his tongue out right back at me. Quick learner, I chuckle. “Anyways, we have a bit of time before the variety show-” I don’t even get to finish before four of them literally poof out of existence. “Wha-”

“Don’t worry, they’ll be back,” Baby speaks up besides me. Shifting my gaze to him, his now nearly unnatural blue eyes half lidded. Taking my phone from me, I try to protest, but he just tsks, like I’m a child testing limits. “No phone for you,” he says, voice stern making me shiver. “You have to be able to get out of sight from the Huntrix. Without me.”

“But you can do it,” I pout and he sighs, getting up from the couch, pulling me with him. Then he smirks, just a little. That smug, knowing tilt of his mouth that makes me want to punch him and kiss him at the same time.

“You get a kiss for every step further you are able to make,” he knows that will make me comply. He’s not shy about kissing me, but it’s not nearly as often as I wish it was. So if this is how I can get it, I’ll take it.

“Okay, okay,” I nod vigorously. “How do we start,” I had told him that I obviously knew how to fight, but I didn’t know how to teleport like they can. Not like I could learn that from Celine. All she ever did was told us to hide our patterns. No one could know what we were.

“It’s a lot about visualizing where you want to go,” his voice calm as he starts to explain. Giving me examples by teleporting around the room as he does. “Now you try, don’t start off difficult. From where you stand, try to go in front of the coffee table.”

“And if I do it,” a little smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “I get a kiss, right?”

“Yes,” he chuckles deeply. “If you can do it, you get a kiss,” he nods. “More if you behave and make it to me,” excitement fills up my body in more ways than one, the smirk on his lips not helping in stopping the heat from forming between my legs. Nodding I focus on the rug under the coffee table. Visualizing the edge where I want to go. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. Hoping that I did it when I open my eyes again.

Nothing.

I was still stood in the same place. “Ugh,” I shake my head. “Okay, one more,” Closing my eyes again. I visualize once more. Maybe it needs to be more detailed. Edge of the rug. The rug is red, the border fluffy, the rectangle table white marble. That is where I want to go. Opening my eyes once more. Nothing. “I can’t do it, if I can’t even get 30cm further how am I meant to get to yo-u,” in the blink of an eye I’m in front of him. Eyes wide in confusion and surprise. A smirk plays on his lips as he leans down and pecks my lips.

Recovering from my initial shock, I shake my head before crossing my arms.

“Nah ah, you said I would get more if I could make it to you.”

“That’s true,” his voice deeper than before. His strong hands reach my hips. Placing a nearly bruising grip on them, my knees weakening. Reaching for him, I wrap my arms around him and pull him closer. Our lips connect, gentler than I expected. But I turn the kiss hungry within seconds. Tracing my tongue over his lips asking for entrance, which he gives only to quickly over power it. Showing me who’s boss, not that anyone would ever question that. He pulls away making me whine. I don’t let go and neither does he. “I will let you have this, cause you have no idea how much I need you, but we will continue practicing after this,” the whine turns into a moan at his confession. He trails kissing down my jaw to my neck, making me bend over backwards.

- Spice below, skip to next image divider if you do not want to read it -

His hands slide up, under his sweater over my bare stomach. Lifting the sweater as he goes, leaving goosebumps in his wake. Pulling back long enough to throw the sweater away before lifting me up. A squeak leaving my lips, returning my hold around his neck tighter as he moves us to the bedroom. I kiss and bite his neck as well as I can with his outfit still on. Trying to get his sweater off him is a struggle. I only manage it because he tosses me onto the bed and I yank it off mid fall.

He at least helps me by taking off his blouse himself, crawling over me right after. Our lips connecting in a heated kiss. My hands roam his toned chest, nails scraping his skin with need. His right hand cupping my face while the other held him up right. His sharp teeth tugging at my bottom lip, pulling away with a grin.

“So needy,” his voice deep, eyes flashing golden. A needy whimper leaves my lips. Watching him back up, just enough to unzip my shorts. Tapping my ass to make me lift off the bed, I quickly do as he asks. Sliding it sensually slow down my thighs, his own nails trailing after the fabric. Every inch they drag lower sends another jolt up my spine.

I want him so desperately at this point I want to drag him back up to me. I don’t even care that he’s still half dressed. I just need him, right now!

Shorts finally gone, abandoned on the floor. He holds my ankles, pecking both. With a strong grip his hands slide back up, followed by more pecks. Turning into bites, along with creating hickeys on my thighs. Marking me his. I loved it.

The moment his head is within my reach I try to pull him back up, but he denies me. An impatient whine leaving my lips though it quickly turns into a gasp when he surprises me by blowing air on my damp panties. Swiftly sliding the fabric to the side, the cold air of the room momentarily startling me. Though my lips are quickly engulfed with his. Legs almost instantly turning to jelly.

Pushing one thigh up, he spreads my legs, giving him more room to explore. My breathing turning into desperate gasps. Sucking on my clit like it’s a life line, plunging his tongue so far inside me it seems impossible. Leaning up on my weak trembling arms, I look at his head between my legs. His eyes open shortly too look me in the eyes. His eyes golden, his patterns showing. He’s half shifted. It all made sense now. He had shown me before that his tongue was longer when in demon form, teasing me with it. This was just half of what it could be and this was already sending me to heaven.

I couldn’t hold myself up anymore, falling back down with a heavenly moan. I could feel that he was enjoying this just as much as I was, being this close allowing me to feel his emotions just like he did mine. My hands find his hair, gripping tight on the strands. Drawing a groan from him, the vibrations of his voice only getting me closer to my release.

“So close,” my voice soft, laced with desperation. But I shouldn’t have said anything. The second the words leave my lips, his leave my heat. A wet smirk curls on his lips, glistening and smug.

“Didn’t think I was gonna let you cum that easy, now did you?” he arches a brow, the wicked look in his eyes making my body ache even more. He licks his lips, groaning at the taste of me. In an instantly his completely naked before me, his patterns beautifully on display. My denied orgasm forgotten, I find the strength to get up. On my knees in front of him, my lips just able to reach his strong collar bones.

I start there, biting hard. I can tell he enjoys it, his eyes stay on me watching me as I claim his body just like he did mine. Smirking my way down, leaving hickeys and indents of my teeth. Marks that say mine in every shade of red. Following one line of his patterns, all the way down the length of his chest. Though he doesn’t allow me to reach my destination.

With a rough push, I’m on my back once more. Somehow, while falling back he was able to remove both my bra and my panties. Demon magic, I'm sure. My legs pulled up into the air, a single hand holding them together against his shoulder.

“Think you’re ready for me?” It’s like his voice got even deeper, like he was growling while talking. That same smug smirk curves his lips as he teases me, pressing the tip between my thighs. My eyes widen the further he pushes, realizing just how big he actually was.

While I’m terrified, I don't control my head as it nods repeatedly with need.

Leaning down he folds me in half, the stretch in my muscles an ache I crave. My legs pushed up, pressed tight on either side of my head. “Use your words, darling,” he whispers, face to face now. His breath brushes my lips, voice thick with command and something darker. The tone betraying just how close he is to loosing it all.

“Please, please, please,” the words are breathless. The pressure on my chest makes it hard to breathe, but not enough to stop the begging. “Fuck me,” it’s rough, more like a demand. Desperate to get him inside me. Now!

He lets out a low, wicked chuckle. “Good girl,” instantly thrusting all the way in. The stretch punches a high-pitched gasp out of me, more squeak than moan, and I clamp down around him without meaning to. My body’s trying to slow him down, fighting the pace I just begged for. All air leaves my lungs when he bottoms out. It feels so good I could cry.

“Sooo… gooooood…” the words slur right out of me, brain to far gone to care what I say anymore. A hitched gasp slips past my parted lips as I feel him pull back. Not all the way, but enough to start making me feel empty. His lips join mine in a surprisingly gentle kiss. His kiss is slow, loving, completely at odds with the way he’s wrecking me. Caressing me with love as he slowly starts to thrust back in. Keeping the pace slow but deep while I gasp into kiss. Barely able to kiss him back.

To the point I just give up, wrapping my arms around his neck. Pulling him impossibly closer. The ache in my legs starting to make them tremble, but I don’t care. I need him, crave him. The angle of our position getting me closer to edge with every thrust. My entire body shivering from the intensity.

“You’re doing so good,” his voice cuts through the haze, sudden enough to startle me. Though I relax almost instantly. “Just a little longer,” his right hand caressing my trembling leg, seemingly soothing the ache. Reaching between us in the impossibly small space between us. Pinching my clit between two fingers making me spasm and squeeze around his thick length. “Cum for me,” it’s like a command that breaks the dam. Squeezing his shoulders once before my arms go lacks at the feeling of ecstasy.

Both his arms secure around me as he thrusts a few more times. He moves my head to the side, just enough to give him space. With a low groan, which is quickly muffled by my skin, he cums inside me. A gentle peck where my neck meets my shoulder. Then a scream leaves my lungs when his teeth tear my skin.

The same black stardust seems to ripple over us, starting from where he just bit me. Suddenly I’m overwhelmed. I freeze up. A gentle lick over the wound, then a peck before his eyes come into view.

“Now,” he whispers. “You’re completely mine,” and I feel it. I feel him, not just physically. Our souls completely connected.

Slowly the shock fades, as does the pain. He starts to pull away, but I don’t want him to. Letting him leave just enough space for me to lower my legs before I pull him right back.

Connecting our lips, exploding with emotions. So much raw emotion of both him and me.

We had just finished showering, but he had been done getting dressed quicker. Pecking my lips as he left the room. A lingering feeling of adoration from him warming my chest.

“Wow, you look thoroughly fucked,” Mystery points out the obvious when I enter the living room again after what had just transpired in the bedroom. I hadn’t tried to hide the marks Baby had left on me, but they were relatively hidden. But I guess not as hidden as they had seemed when I looked in the mirror.

An instant flare of anger washes over me. But it’s not mine.

“Watch it,” Baby hisses at his friend. I just stick my tongue out at Mystery and plop myself down on Baby’s lap, who instantly wraps a possessive arm around my waist. I peck his cheek before turning my attention to the rest of the boys.

“Okay, but, we should actually get going,” I say while I look at the time on my phone, now that I have it again. “We don’t wanna be la-”

Before I can finish, magenta smoke slowly reveals we arrived at the studio.

“Ah! Saja Boys!” we get greeted, the second we get spotted. In panic I touch my head, glad to find the cap there. My eyes meet Baby’s, he’s already staring, handing me tinted glasses. Which I quickly put on.

They get called on stage not long after our arrival. The studio filled to the brim with press and new fans. I stay on the side, out of sight of the crowd. Instead focusing on my phone where I check their social media and their growing popularity.

Unbeknownst to me, three pairs of familiar eyes had spotted me. Unsure and stunned all the same. I should not be there and yet I was.

“It’s a dead heat between my handsome co-host and Baby Saja,” my attention drawn to the stage, at the mention of Baby. Surprised he’s so casually drinking hot sauce like it’s water. “Can our host catch up?”

“So spicy! So spicy!” the co-host utters, giving up.

“He can’t! Baby Saja is the winner!” the crowd cheers.

“Goo goo, ga ga,” Baby mocks, unable to stop me from giggling at the idiocy of it. Shaking my head.

“Hard to say goodbye when we’re having fun.”

“So hard. So hard,” to my shock I watch Jinu take the mic from the host. I’m about to scold him from the sideline when he speaks.

“Then why say goodbye when we have extra special guests coming up?”

“What is he doing?” I mutter. Little did I know that Rumi muttered those exact same words.

“Please welcome Huntrix!” stunned I follow the spotlights as it highlights the - now - trio. Shit.

“We just wanted to stop by and congratulate our hoobaes on their debut and-,” Rumi waves awkwardly, obviously caught off guard.

“And of course, Play Games with Us! Bring out the slides!” Jinu cuts her off. The other four grabbing the slide from my side of the stage.

“This is not a good idea,” I hiss at them. Baby just winks as a feeling of reassurance waves over me.

“Slide! Slide! Slide!” the crowd chants, I watch anxiously.

“Oh no. We couldn’t possibly,” Rumi tries to back out, to no avail of the crowd. Their chants changing to ‘In the balls!’. Which seems, you know, just a little in appropriate, but oh well… “Sure,” voice a little higher now. “For the fans.”

Though its immediately met with more regret. Their leather pants stopping them for a smooth slide. An ear-piercing sound echoing through the studio. Just like Baby I cover my ears, dampening the double effect of what this sound does to us.

Finally they land. “And Huntrix is in the balls!” I notice their eyes flash gold, smirks plastered on their faces before they mask it.

“Well, this was fun,” Rumi says awkwardly as the three of them exit the ball pit. Standing in line across from the boys.

With a hand on his chest. “It was truly an honor to share the stage with you,” Jinu says, the five of them bowing respectfully to the trio. I cover my mouth with my hand to muffle my chuckle at their faces.

“Oh no. The honor is ours,” they bow. They’ll do anything to keep the fans on their side it seems.

“No, it was ours.”

“It’s ours.”

“Ours.”

They all bow deeper and deeper. The boys quite literally folded in half in the end. Baby smirking through his legs at me, making me shake my head at them for the nth time.

Before the curtain is even fully closed, Baby grabs my by the waist, throwing me over his shoulder as they run out. Abby giving Romance a piggy back, just to rub it in the girls faces. Flicking my gaze to them, I see their anger growing.

“Where are we going?” I ask, not really able to do much, stuck in the tight grasp of Baby. Trying to peak around his head I see the bath house sign. “Why are we going to a bath house?”

I get an answer quick enough when I hear their collective voices. “Mens?”

“Wow. Did you really follow us in here?” Jinu says with fake surprise.

“I knew they would. That one’s always looking at me,” Abby says matter-of-factly.

“No we’re not,” Mira and Zoey say, obviously staring at Abby. Rumi ignores the comments completely. Her eyes finding mine where I’m stood next to Baby. A possessive and protective hand on my waist. He glares at them like they had personally hurt him.

I guess unintentionally they had, but without what they did. We wouldn’t have met.

“Y/n?” soft, filled with disbelief. Rumi’s words seem to shake Mira and Zoey out of their staring trance as they too turn to me.

“Told you,” Mira starts. “She’s just as bad as the rest of them,” Baby makes a threatening move, growling slightly. It’s enough to make them take a step back.

“I wasn’t,” I state calmly. Placing a hand on Baby’s shoulder to calm him and to tell him to trust me this time. “Not until you betrayed me that is,” I continue, sending a glare their way. “Especially you, Rumi. What a sister you are,” I shake my head with disappointment.

“So, now you’ve sent a demon boy band after us?” Zoey asks, surprised and offended at the same time. “To what? Steal our fans?”

“Yes,” the six of us state clearly, a smirk pulling at my lips. “When I came back to this plane, it was fun to see how many you had already lost. And all that because I “left”,” their eyes widen at my words. “Now we’re here for the rest of them.”

“You think we’re just going to let you steal our fans?” Rumi’s voice laced with anger. “You’re gonna have to fight us for them.”

“Yeah. Keep your hands off our Honmoon,” Zoey adds.

Jinu chuckles. “We’re not here to fight,” tears in the Honmoon appear in the baths. “They are,” demons rise from the tears.

“Water demons.”

“Oh great. My favorite.”

“Get rid of the Hunters,” Jinu says to the water demon closest to him. I can’t stop the spike of fear puncturing my heart as my eyes shift from him to the people I once called family. “Then you can eat all the souls you want,” Baby squeezes my waist, but it doesn’t sooth the pain in my chest.

With that said, the water demons start fighting. Romance, Mystery and Abby swiftly making their way to another exit. Baby starts pulling me, but I hesitate. While he’s obviously upset at what they had done to me. He understands what I’m going through at this very moment.

“Have fun,” Jinu smirks evilly, nearly slipping on a small pool of water on the tiles. Turning around he starting running towards the exit. I finally find my willpower back and start moving. Holding onto Baby’s hand tight. Letting him drag me through the door. Running through the sauna as Rumi follows us quickly. She manages to cut Jinu off from the group.

“He can handle himself,” Baby reassures me and finally we go up in smoke and appear in our apartment. Out of breath, I let myself fall on the couch. Soon joined by him. He picks me up bridal style. Sits down himself before placing me in his lap. Leaning me so my head is resting on his shoulder.

“I can’t- I-”

“Shh, it’s okay,” his voice is soft. Warmth blooms in my chest and again I’m reassured. He’s not mad at me. He knows I was meant to be one of the good guys. “You don’t have to talk.”

We stay like that, unbothered by the other three. Until Jinu returns, face laced with realization and confusion but before he can say anything. All six of us get pulled back into the demon plane by Gwi ma.

A single soul flies overhead, straight into Gwi ma’s flame.

“My Little Soda Pop,” Gwi ma… sings? “It’s catchy. Surprisingly, your plan is working,” he says to us as we get up off the ground. Standing before him.

“I know, and that soul is just a starter,” Jinu says, his expression changing to please Gwi ma. “So let me get back to work, and you’ll be feasting in no time.”

“Two of the Hunters bear my mark, one of which I now have control over,” if Gwi ma had eyes they would be on me now with how intense the air around me got. “The other I do not.”

“This is good,” Jinu says, taking the attention off me. “This means she has shame. I’ll find out what it is and we can use it to destroy her and the Hunters for good.”

“I’ve taught you well, Jinu,” with that Gwi ma lets us return to our apartment on the human plane.

“Okay, issue,” Jinu says, sitting on one of the arm chairs in the room. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees. Covering his face with his left hand.

“What is it?” Romance asks, confused. Finding himself a seat on the couch. Abby returning from the kitchen with a bottle of water. Sitting in the other arm chair. Mystery finding his spot between Romance and Baby. I stood by the large open windows which had a view of the city sky line. From here I could see the Huntrix tower, the logo lit up in the dark of the night, in the far distance. Leaning against the glass as I subconsciously rubbed the patterns on my arms.

“Is it because of the look on your face when you first came back?” Baby asks, though I know his eyes don’t leave my frame. Watching over me protectively but letting me keep the space I need right now.

��Yes,” Jinu sighs, taking his hand away from his face. “Rumi appears to be my mate,” my eyes focus on his reflection in the window. Silence engulfs the room, almost like time stands still. I don’t think anyone knows what to say with this new information. “But that doesn’t change anything,” he chuckles awkwardly.

It’s very divided. Baby and I sure as hell can’t say shit about it. Me, technically, being a huntress and us being mates. Having just completed said mating bond.

“We’re going to stick to the plan,” Jinu ends up deciding. “We have to,” the words are whispered. My brows furrow in confusion. He can’t just be talking about the revenge. Baby fills my head with images of what Gwi ma could do to us if we fail.

It’s early morning, I think I got maybe an hour of sleep before I woke up from my running thoughts. Baby was a deep sleeper, if he hadn’t been, I was sure he would have jumped awake at the same time I did. Sneaking out of his hold. I grab my phone from its charger.

3:36 am

Sighing I get up. Pulling Baby’s sweater over my head. The hem falling just mid my thighs. My sweater now, really. Exiting the room I head for the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water. Swiftly taking a sip.

“Ah,” I sigh, walking to the living room, I just sat down on the couch when Jinu suddenly appears in front of me. Making me jump, Jinu reacting the same at seeing me awake.

“What are you doing awake?” he whisper hisses at me.

“I could ask you the same thing,” I hiss right back. He sighs and takes the same seat as before. I relax back in my seat, pulling my legs on the couch beside me.

“Fine,” he sighs. Tiger comes up from the floor. First letting himself be pet by Jinu before circling the coffee table. Jumping on the couch next to me, resting his head on my thigh. Placing my hand on his big head, I start petting him. Purrs slowly rumbling from his chest. “I went to meet Rumi,” anxiety spikes my chest, my eyes meeting his instantly. “I know, I know,” he puts his hands up. “I just, I had to tell her.”

While my heart is still running like a marathon, I sigh. “I get it. Once you realize it’s hard to keep it from them. Baby showed me what it felt like for him when he found out,” I explain in understanding. Jinu sighs in relief at my words.

“Thank you,” it wasn’t often Jinu got sincere, so I knew this was real. Just by the tone in his voice. “She did not react well,” he adds. “I shouldn’t be surprised of course, but I had hope with the way you reacted to Baby.”

“You have to understand that the situations are different. I had just been banished by my own family. She’s still in hiding,” I try to reason with him. “If Mira and Zoey knew, she would be with Gwi ma just like me.”

“What exactly happened that day?” the question is cautious. Testing the waters carefully. "I know you told us in part, but..."

“I wanted to tell Mira and Zoey about my patterns,” I state, my voice void of emotion. “I didn’t want to hide anymore. Rumi didn’t want to. Which I understood, but she said she would back me up,” I glance at him before focusing my attention on Tiger as I continue. “They reacted by drawing their weapons on me,” I pause for a moment. Throat swelling up with emotion. Unable to stop the betrayal from taking over me. “Rumi was the one to send me to Gwi ma,” I croak out, my hand trembling as I continue to pet Tiger as a distraction. Taking a deep shuddering breath. Baby appeared behind me suddenly. His calm aura settling over me. Looking back, up at him, his gaze is focused on Jinu. Glaring at him.

“What are you doing?” he asks accusingly. His hands settle on my shoulders. Comforting me.

“It’s okay. I’m okay now,” I smile gently at him, squeezing one of his hands. “It’s not his fault really,” he doesn’t seem to fully believe me. Tiger had looked up, almost offended that I had stop petting him. Though this did give Baby the opportunity to sit down himself and hold me close.

“What happened then?”

“I may have asked what happened that day,” Jinu explains.

“And this became a topic, because?”

“He apparently met with Rumi,” I tell him. “Telling her about them being mates, and it did not go as he hoped,” Baby nods, waiting for more information.

“I also may have offered to let Rumi talk to Y/n,” Jinu confesses, awkwardly scratching the back of his head.

“WHAT!?” Baby and I say at the same time. Baby out of worry, me out of anxiety.

“Yeah, well,” Jinu sighs, struggling to find the right words. “I thought, since you’re sisters. And you being mated to Baby. You could maybe, I don’t know. Convince her it’s okay..?”

“You want my mate,” Baby’s voice is stern, threatening even. “ who got sent to Gwi ma by yours. To talk to Rumi?”

“I know, I know.”

“No, I don’t think you understand,” Baby’s eyes turn golden. “Her anxiety just woke me up, I am de deepest sleeper you know this. I will not allow Rumi to meet with Y/n.”

The conversation ends there. The next few weeks a filled with award shows where either the Saja boys winning or Huntrix. All the while I see the secret longing looks Jinu sends Rumi, and Rumi tries to hide the new pull that the mating bond created.

It’s conflicting with everything.

I want Jinu to be happy, and I hate that I want Rumi to be happy too. Becoming Baby’s mate has made me so happy. While I still hear Gwi ma’s voice it’s not nearly as loud as it was before we completed the mating. It doesn’t rule over me. I wish that for Jinu. I know his past haunts him, more than he dares to show.

And while it obviously hurts to be betrayed by my sister, I still cared for her. Can I still go through with this?

“Let’s bring ‘em in,” Bobby’s voice announces as the doors to the signing open. Hiding in the crowd, I watch as the guys waddle in. “Hey, single file, no pushing.”

“And who should I make this out to?” Rumi asks, grabbing the stack of her posters, closer to herself.

“ 'To our biggest fans' ,” Jinu says, all of them casually revealing themselves. No longer hidden by the sleeping bags.

“It’s the Saja boys!” while everyone is focused on the boys, the frustration of the girls doesn’t go unnoticed by me.

“It is an honor!” Bobby regards them politely. “Table, now!”

“Joint signing!” while the room splits into two sides. I teleport behind the Huntrix banner, having practiced a lot since that first try.

“We lose half the fans?” I can just hear Rumi’s murmured words. “The Saja Boys will sit with us!”

“What? Rumi?” Mira and Zoey react quietly. “What are you doing?”

“Huh? Same table?” the crowd joins together again as the table gets moved next to theirs.

“We need every fan,” Rumi tells the other two.

“Hm. We keep meeting like this,” Romance says, sitting down next to Mira. Draping an arm over her chair. Leaning his head on his other hand. Staring at Mira while she glares back at him. Abby taking a seat on Mira's left, smirk tugging at his lips.

“I am not sitting with no Saja boy-” Zoey cuts herself off when Mystery sits down next to her, giggling like a high school girl with a crush. “What’s up?”

“I didn’t think you liked sharing,” Jinu whispers to Rumi when he sits down beside her.

“I love sharing.”

“Oh, so you shared your secret with your friends?”

“If only I could smash your demon face in right now,” Mira hisses quietly. Her eyes shifting from Romance to Abby as she signs her poster. “Thanks for coming!” she puts up a sweet face as she hands over the signed poster.

“Should I tell them?” Jinu asks.

“No, I can’t tell them,” Rumi reminds him.

“Are you whispering?” a fan suddenly cut their conversation. The two of them stuttering as they frantically sign the Rumi poster and hand it to the fan. “Your secret’s safe with me,” she says pointing at her shirt which has a drawing of the two of them along with their ship name; Rujinu. They chuckle awkwardly. “Oh, so cute!”

“Thanks for coming!” Zoey speaks with a sweet smile on her lips, while Mystery sits next to her. Arms crossed, pretty much staring down the Huntrix fan in front of them like he had seen them kick a puppy. Softly growling. “No! Bad Saja Boy!” Zoey scolds him which surprisingly stops his growling.

“I’ll sign first,” Mira fights with Abby and Romance over who will sign the cast of a fan. Dragging his foot from left to right on the table like he isn’t struggling to keep his stability on his crutches.

"If Y/n were still with Huntrix," I catch the whisper of a fan. An image of said fan being sent to me by Baby. The fan standing directly in front of him. "I would ship you," he doesn't reply. Simply smirks and sends the fan a wink making them squeal.

“I’m not gonna talk to someone who’s helping Gwi ma,” Rumi whispers, trying to focus on the signing.

“What if that’s not the plan anymore.”

“Like I would believe you, you have my sister helping you.”

“And who’s fault is that,” he whispers in her ear making her kick his foot under the table.

“I had no choice!” She whisper yells at him. “They didn’t accept her. If I revealed what I am we would never stand a chance at defeating Gwi ma. I’m supposed to hate all demons, like I hate Gwi ma.”

“If hate could defeat Gwi ma, we would have done it a long time ago,” Jinu tells her calmly, truthfully. “Trust me.”

“Excuse me, mr. Jinu,” the voice of a little girl cuts their moment. “I made this for you,” both turn to the girl. Jinu surprised, not expecting this in the slightest.

“Uh, for me?” she holds out the drawing to him. He takes the paper like its a porcelain plate. Fragile, breakable. The two stare at the drawing for a little while.

“Maybe listen to those voices instead of the ones in your head,” Rumi says referring to the time they met up, she’s trying to be rude about it, but it sounds more sincere than I think she meant to.

It had been a couple of days since Tiger had been at the apartment. He finally appeared again when it was just me, Baby and Jinu in the living room. The other three had been disappearing into their rooms more often than not.

Tiger sat in front of Jinu, waiting for his attention. I was stretched out over the couch, using Baby’s thighs as a pillow while he read above me. Fingers running through my hair soothingly.

“Oh, my-” Jinu’s sudden excitement has my eyes shoot open in surprise. Baby sighed but closed the book nonetheless. How he did it, I don’t know, but he would just remember the page number he left on. Not caring about a bookmark. Who does that?

“What is it?” I ask, sleepily.

“It’s from Rumi, she’s agreed to meet you,” the anxiety spike returns, just that has Baby reach for my hand. Squeezing it gently.

“I thought, I had been very clear, last time we spoke about this,” Baby glares at him. Sitting up slowly, I take the card from Jinu.

Fine, I’ll take that talk with Y/n. But not for you! She’ll know where to meet me. - Rumi

Stubborn as ever, I shake my head. “You think she’s feeling the pull?” I ask Baby. He sighs, not liking the way my anxiety melted away for warmth of the potential happiness that could come out of this.

“Yes, she probably is,” he answers me, voice gentle, unlike how he spoke to Jinu. “I’m surprised she held out this long. “

“Is that were Tiger was?” I ask Jinu, who nods.

“I’ll do it,” I announce after a moment of me just staring at her neat hand writing.

“I’m coming with you,” Baby immediately says, but I shake me head.

“No, she won’t trust you,” it’s true and he knows it. “I can protect myself. I can get away from her, thanks to you,” I peck his cheek. Lingering to reassure him that I’ll be okay.

“Alright.”

I arrive first. Kneeling in front of our moms grave.

“Hi mom,” my voice soft. “I know it’s been a while since my last visit. I’m sorry,” I apologize. A crunch of a branch tells me Rumi has arrived. Placing a kiss on the tips of my fingers, I press them against her headstone before standing up. Turning to Rumi.

“I didn’t think you would actually show,” she says, a sullen expression on her face. Hands stuffed in her sweaters pockets.

“When Jinu first told me of his offer to you, I wouldn’t have come, no,” I tell her honestly. Moving at a wide radius away from our moms grave. Giving Rumi the opportunity to talk to mom like I just had.

She does just that, I give her space to do so. This is the first time we talk to her separately. We always went to her grave together every now and again.

“Is this… mates thing… a lie?” she hesitates, when she’s done talking to mom. Getting up, keeping the same radius I had. Ten paces apart we take our seat on separate grass patches.

“It is not,” I shake my head, pulling the zipper down of my turtle neck top. Show her my mating mark that has now healed completely. Leaving holographic scars in the shape of his teeth. “Jinu did not lie to you about that, and I think you believed him. Even before you wanted to.”

She nods, seemingly ashamed that she did, but unable to deny the pull she now feels to him. “Did Jinu lie when he said he wasn’t going to help Gwi ma anymore?”

“Yes and no,” she looks confused at my answer.

“What does that mean?” she frowns.

“I think, that after finding out you were his mate, he stopped wanting to help Gwi ma.”

“But?”

“But because of what you did to me-” anxiety spikes as the memories play again. Warmth spreads within seconds, allowing me to take a deep breath and continue. Thank you Baby. “And the memories that haunt, not only Jinu, but the others too. They became my friends, I know it may seem like they do all this for Gwi ma. But they don’t. They will continue if it means they can get rid of their memories. Probably until its too late.”

“I guess… I guess I can’t blame them for that…” she sighs, gaze falling to the grass in front of her, like she can’t bear to meet mine. “For what it’s worth… I am so-rry,” her voice cracks. Her mask faltering as tears roll freely off her cheeks. “… I’m so- so sor-ry…” her shoulders shake. “I- I panicked! I never-” she sniffles. “I never wanted to hurt- you.”

“It hurt… so much,” I croak out, unable to keep from crying myself. Being this close yet so far from my sister. It was agony. “Not just the betrayal…” a quick intake of breath which does little to stop my emotions from going haywire. “It was like I was- like I was being burned… in, I don’t know, hell fire,” I struggle to find the words. Trying to paint a picture she would - hopefully - never feel. "Gwi ma, tortured me... with it... making it play- over and over," I pause. "Louder, every time," my voice just above a whisper. It hangs in the air for an uncertain amount of time.

“Can I please- hug you?” her voice is so soft, I barely catch her words. Looking up in surprise. Wondering if I even heard her right. My eyes find hers already staring at me. Switching between either one in desperation. I barely finish my nod and she on her feet.

We crush together in the middle. Arms wrapped tightly around each other. Tears ruining each others clothes, not that we cared about that in the moment, or ever.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” her voice is shaky as she whispers the words, over an over. Hiding her face in my shoulder. I feel us sink to the gravel, never letting go.

I don't know how long we stay there, just crying while we hold onto each other desperately.

“I missed you so much,” she whispers when we finally stopped crying. Pulling away enough to look at me up close. A shaky smile forms on my lips as I nod in agreement.

“I missed you too, even though I felt betrayed,” I sigh, using one hand to wipe away left over tears. “Mira and Zoey too.”

“I know they miss you too,” it surprises me. Her voice is so full of raw emotion I know she’s not lying. “We regret it so much, me the most,” she points at her own chest. “I lost my voice, I couldn’t sing anymore. I didn’t think I deserved to either way.”

We are hunters, voices strong

I start, which she quickly catches on to. Joining me.

Slaying demons with our song Fix the world and make it right When darkness finally meets the light

Our foreheads meet in the middle. It held a lot more meaning now. We weren’t singing about slaying literally demons. It was about our thoughts. How we can speak our truth to each other now. Where her darkness meets my light and we can still fix all this. “That is the first time I’ve sang since the performance before… you know.”

“Meeting Jinu, my voice returned. I had someone who I could talk about my patterns with again,” Rumi confesses. “Someone I could be completely me with, but it was different.”

“It is,” I nod, separating our connection. “Because he is your mate. I had the same with Baby. Even if I didn’t want to believe demons could be nice at first,” I shake my head, getting a smile from her. “Also, would you believe it! Not all demons are ugly like we thought,” this gets her to laugh uncontrollably, happy tears playing on the rims of her eyes. She pulls me impossible closer, letting out a shuddering sigh of relief.

“Hey, can demons only have demon mates?” I ask, still confused by Romance, Mystery’s and Abby’s recent behavior changes.

“Uhm, no,” Mystery answers my question surprisingly. His expression unreadable. “Could be a human too,” the way he drags out ‘too’, only confirms my suspicions.

“Am I correct in assuming you three have found your mates in my human band members?” it’s hard to hide the smirk that starts tugging at my lips. Abby is the first to react, his gaze flicking to me in an instant. Got you. “I knew it!” I fist pump the air in excitement.

“Why does our misery excite you exactly?” Romance asks, sinking lower into the couch.

“Well,” I draw out the word as I get off of Baby’s lap. Much to his dismay. “Because it changes everything!”

“What are you talking about?” Abby asks, confusion written on all over their faces. Except, Baby, which surprises me only a little. Maybe my feelings about this have bled into him more than I thought.

“Don’t you see,” I start, pacing in front of them. “All of you have mates on this plane. Hunters to be precise,” I explain it like it’s obvious. “If we destroy them, you’ll never be with them!” this seems to make all of them pause.

“They hate demons, remember,” Romance’s voice is edged with a depression I had never seen on the man.

“That doesn’t mean they can’t change!” my voice is almost desperate. Trying to get them to see what I see. “If- if,” my thoughts go too fast for my mouth to keep up. A hand takes mine, Baby. I breathe. “If we can convince Rumi that we will help them seal the Honmoon-”

“What!?” that comes from all three of them at once.

“Listen to me!” I snap, gripping Baby’s hand tighter. “If we help them seal the Honmoon, while we are on this plane. It will keep us here!” slowly their gaze shift from disbelief to something I can’t place. Something like… hope. Or maybe fear of even the thought of hope. “Gwi ma won’t have control over us.”

“How are you so sure?” Mystery asks, his voice soft. Unrecognizable from his normal confident self.

“Because Rumi and I were already born when the Honmoon was last sealed,” I tell them. “We stayed here, lead normal human lives. Even if we had to hide our patterns.”

“Alright, I’ll trust you on this,” Abby says sitting up straight. This gets the other two to agree soon after.

“How do we make it happen?”

“Jinu, you need to talk to Rumi. Tell her our plan,” I turn to Jinu. “She’ll do whatever she can to ensure Mira and Zoey will not harm us. I’m sure of it, but we will have to keep pretending to do this for Gwi ma,” the plan was simple really. It would all end tomorrow at the International Idol Awards.

“Two bands, one award,” the intro starts playing on the tv in the Saja Boys’ dressing room. “Every snowflake is special. But one snowflake is probably the best. Who will be the top the the mountain?”

“Is this guy for real?” Abby asks in disbelief. I smack his arm playfully.

“Hey, this is a respected award show,” I tell him. “We are five-year reigning champions, I’ll have you know,” Baby chuckles at my defense, squeezing my side.

“Fans from around the universe will decide!” The stage comes into view. The stadium filled to the brim with fans. “Finally, the moment you’ve been waiting for. Here are the five-year reigning champs of the International Idol Awards, Huntrix!”

“Okay, it’s time,” I tell them. “Fake the fight,” immediately they start arguing about stupid things like stolen shoes. Men, am I right? But it sounds believable, especially through he nearly sound proof door.

“Versus the heart-stealing newcomers, the Saja Boys! Who will win?” “Please welcome to the stage, the Saja Boys!”

“The Saja Boys, are having a fight,” I tell a staff member as I open the door just a peep. “They will not be performing tonight,” Their eyes seem to widen. Rushing away. Most likely to tell other staff and Bobby of the earlier performance of the Huntrix.

Closing the door behind me, I give them a thumbs up. “Now we just let it play out.”

Everything quiets down in the room. Watching in anticipation, hoping it would work.

“Uh, okay, there’s been a slight change in schedule,” the host announces.

Baby is sat on the arm rest of the leather couch in the room. I sit right on the edge between his legs, his arms wrapped tightly around my waist. Possessive, protective. Afraid of loosing me, just as I am to loose him if this goes bad.

Romance, Abby and Mystery actually sit on the three seater leather couch. Jinu, nervously sat on the other arm rest. Tension was high.

“Here to preform their hot new single, Golden, it’s Huntrix!”

“What?” my voice is laced with confusion. The door to the dressing room slams open. Startling everyone in the room.

“Y/n, quick.”

“When you told me to wear my golden costume, you could have told me this was the reason for it,” I tell Rumi while she throws a headworn microphone at me.

I lock eyes with Baby, portraying that I didn’t know.

“You go this,” he winks confidently. “I’ll be right here when you return,” I smash our lips together in a desperate kiss. Pouring all my fear into it along with anxious hope. “Go, darling,” his voice soft as he wipes a tear I didn’t know escaped off my cheek.

Breaking away, I watch as Rumi pulls away from a similar kiss with Jinu. A blush covering her cheeks. With that we run out the room.

“Do Zoey and Mira know I’m here to perform?” I ask on the way.

“Uhm, kind of?” Rumi admits, grimacing.

“Rumi!”

“I told them to trust me, alright!” we reach the girls just in time. It luckily doesn’t give the two the chance to ask any questions as we get lifted up to the stage.

I start my part, the crowd cheering in surprise.

I was a ghost, I was alone. Eo du wojin, ap gil sok e Given the throne I didn’t know How to believe I was the queen that I’m meant to be!

Thankfully, it all goes smoothly as we continue the song. Leaving the stage when its time for Rumi’s solo. I anxiously keep my distance from Zoey and Mira. Though I’m not too worried with so many people around.

“She’s killing it out there!” Zoey nearly screams overjoyed to see my sister sing well once more. Mira on the other hand doesn’t seem to be sure whether she should be glaring at me or feel grateful that I’m actually still alive. In the end she shakes her head.

“Let’s go finish this,” but commotion backstage draws our attention. We watch Bobby being dragged away by to people, their eyes flashing gold before disappearing around the corner. “Bobby?” Zoey turns to glare at me instantaneously.

“This isn’t us, I swear,” I hold up my hands trying to prove my innocence. “I didn’t do this!”

“Stay away from us,” Mira hisses at me as I go to follow them to help Bobby. My breath quickens as I watch them run away. The staff yelling after them that they’re on in 20 seconds.

“What is happening?” I mutter, dashing in the other direction. I crash straight into the dressing room. All five of them are still sat there, watching Rumi perform.

Baby is at my side in seconds. “What’s going on?”

“Who took Bobby!?” my voice is more confused than accusatory, but its there. Their brows furrow. “I thought we agreed.”

“We did,” Mystery stands up confused. “What do you mean, who took Bobby?”

Realization dawns on me, my eyes darting to the screen. “Rumi…” I breath, watching as the music changes from Golden to an entirely different song. One I didn’t know. Mira and Zoey join her back onstage… but something is off about them. “I have to get to Rumi!”

Emotion crowds my chest as I teleport in bursts, racing closer and closer to the stage. But I’m too late.

The fakes have already exposed her patterns.

“No!” Rumi’s voice pierces the air. Lights break in her wake. Her patterns start glowing purple. Unable to hide them anymore. She’s trembling. Frantic, scared, exposed.

Out of the corner of my eye I see the real Zoey and Mira return on the other side of the stage. Stopping in their tracks at the sight of Rumi. And slowly they step back. Back… away from her.

Rumi gains enough control of herself and runs off stage. I quickly run after her, but I’m not fast enough to stop her from running into Mira and Zoey. Witnessing their conversation from the stairs.

“How are you here?” I hear Rumi’s shaky voice. “You were just on stage. That wasn’t you?” She trembling like crazy. “Oh, thank goodness,” she takes a step closer to them. But they just take a steps back. “No. No!” her gaze falls to her hands, the patterns on full display. Not hidden like she expected them to be.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Zoey’s voice is surprisingly soft as she questions Rumi. “You knew about Y/n because you are one too.”

Her breath hitches. “Yes, but-” she stutters. “I didn’t have a- have choice.”

“You lied to us,” Mira’s voice is sharp. “This whole time?”

“No, I-” she shakes her head vividly. “We had a plan.”

“We?”

“Sealing the Honmoon,” I finally speak up. Revealing myself to them. Joining Rumi. Mira and Zoey take another step back, drawing their weapons on us, but not yet pointing them at us.

“You told us to trust you,” Zoey's voice is colder than I have ever heard it.

“And it back fired, on not just us, but on you too,” if looks could kill, Mira’s gaze would have sent us straight to hell.

“No,” I tell them, shaking my head. “This wasn’t us,” I say referring to me and the Saja Boys. “We wanted you guys to seal the Honmoon tonight.”

“It was supposed to save us,” Rumi adds, taking my hand with her shaky one. “We were supposed to become normal… and be together again.”

“How could we be together if we can’t tell your lies from your truths, Rumi?”

“I knew it, I knew it was too good to be true,” Mira’s voice is filled with disappointment.

“Mira, no! Didn’t you see?” Rumi tries once more as a desperate attempt. “See the gold? We’re so close!” instead they only back up further as she tries to get closer to them. “No, don’t leave! We can still…”

“Fix this!” my voice combines with hers makes the Honmoon ring magenta. Loosing us whatever trust that would have been left from the two. Mira pointing her woldo at us.

“Zoey, please,” my voice trembles. Tears in my eyes. It doesn’t change anything. She too readies her kunai’s. Before they can try to use them on us. I squeeze Rumi’s hand and teleport her with me.

I wasn’t entirely sure where I took us. But it became clear as our eyes followed how the Honmoon was breaking apart. Our gaze landing on the Shinmok. Celine stood there, back to us. But she knew we were there. Turning around with her nat suddenly, as if to catch us off guard.

“Rumi? Y/n?”

“I thought we could fix it,” Rumi says. Staring blankly at the ground. Voice going static.

“They know of both of us now,” my voice seems to do the same as we near Celine.

“There is no denying it now.”

“There is no fixing it.”

“This is what we are,” The slow tearing of the Honmoon had both of us looking mostly demon, mirrored glowing patterns, one gold eye each.

“Y/n, how?” they had to have told Celine the truth of what happened that night. She wouldn’t have been as surprised to see me if they hadn’t. They thought I had been dead. “I tried to protect you,” Celine continues, stepping cautiously closer to us. “When we lost your mother, I swore to protect you both. But I never thought that you would be children like this,” her voice trembles as she reaches out to us but can’t seem to touch us. Doesn’t dare to touch us. “Everything I was taught told me you two were wrong, but I made a promise. So I did my best to accept you and help you-”

“Accept us?” Rumi asks, meeting Celine’s tear filled gaze. “You told us to cover up, to hide.”

“Yes, until we can fix everything-”

“And look where that got us,” I scoff. “If we had been honest… from the start,” I choke on my own emotions. “We wouldn’t look like this now.”

“The Honmoon would have been golden already.”

“We can still fix this,” Celine mumbles she steps away from us.

“Don’t you get it!”

“This is what we are!” Rumi and I speak sentence after sentence like we had rehearsed this. But we hadn’t, we just knew exactly what we were trying to get across to her.

“Look at us,” we state when she will no longer dare to look us in the eyes. To truly see what she caused. “Why can’t you look at us?! Why couldn’t you love us?!”

“I do!”

“Every part of us!” our combined cry for acceptance creates another magenta ripple to run over the Honmoon around us. Spreading wider than before.

“This is why we have to hide it,” Celine sounds desperate and out of breath. Looking around frantically at the Honmoon. “Our faults and fears must never been seen. It’s the only way to protect the Honmoon.”

Silence.

“If this is the Honmoon we’re supposed to protect, we’re glad to see it destroyed,” with that we leave her there.

Our agreement is silent as we meet at moms grave once more. “We’re going to have to create a new Honmoon,” I tell her. The both of us pacing the ground.

“Yes, we do.”

“I have a plan, one sec,” I leave her for approximately five seconds before returning with the Saja Boys. Jinu immediately takes Rumi in a protective hold.

“Do you know, how hard it was for me to not follow you,” Baby whispers in my ear as he stands behind me. Wrapping an arm around my waist.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize, turning sideways to peck his cheek. “Thank you for trusting me,” he responds to my words with a bite to my mating mark making me shiver deliciously. “Not now," I scold him.

“Anyways, plan,” Romance asks.

“Right, have you guys spoke to Gwi ma yet?”

“Yes,” Abby answers. “He believes we are still on his side. He just thought it took too long. Sorry for that Rumi,” he apologizes awkwardly to my sister.

“We genuinely didn’t know this would happen,” Jinu adds, squeezing the girl who accepts the apology.

“That’s good, did he miss me there?” I ask.

“I don’t think he could care less,” Baby says, seemingly relieved knowing I’m pretty much not a target for Gwi ma. “But Gwi ma has everyone in a trance. They are all going to Namsan Tower.”

“Okay, we can work with that,” Rumi says, running her brain for ideas.

“Including, Zoey and Mira,” Mystery adds, worry lacing his voice.

“Okay, that makes it a bit harder,” I admit.

“Gwi-ma wants us to do a show there, to keep the people tranced,” Jinu goes to explain Gwi ma’s plan. “That way they will willingly walk into his fire.”

“Do it,” I tell them, seriously. All six of them stare at me like I grew three heads. “We can put a stop to it,” I point my finger between me and Rumi. “Trust me.”

It doesn’t take the boys a lot of convincing, they nod. Jinu leaves a linger kiss on Rumi’s lips. “Take care of yourself,” he tells her sincerely. She nods in silent promise.

“If anything goes wrong, I will protect you,” Baby says to me. “Even if it kills me,” I want to tell him no, but he connects our lips and disappears before I can melt into it.

Rumi and I meet eyes, scared but ready.

Oh!

Rumi’s voice rings loud and clear through Namsan Tower. Cutting the boys off. People clear the way for a view of Rumi. Stood there, broken but true.

We are hunters. Voices strong. Slaying demons with our song. Fix the world and make it right. When darkness finally meets the light.

“You come here like this?” no one is walking towards the flames anymore, just like I suspected. “You think you can fix the world? You can’t even fix yourself,” Gwi ma plays with her shame and insecurities.

“I can’t,” she admits, sullenly.

“And now everyone finally sees you for what you really are.”

“They do.”

“And the Honmoon is gone.”

“It is,” Gwi ma thinks he’s won. “So we can make a new one,” her gaze grows serious.

Nothing but the truth now. Nothing but the proof of what I am.

She walks as she sings, closer. Transforming unknowingly, but I see it. Patterns glowing like iridescent glass, shifting though colors with every note she sings.

The worst of what I came from Patterns I’m ashamed of Things that even I don’t understand I tried to fix it I tried to fight it My head was twisted My heart divided My lies all collided I don’t know why I didn’t Trust you to be on my side

That’s when I join, appearing right next to her.

I broke into a million pieces, and I can't go back But now I'm seeing all the beauty in the broken glass The scars are part of me, darkness and harmony My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like

My eyes find Zoey, who is emerging from the crowd, soul glowing bright. Rumi finding Mira just the same.

Why did I cover up the colors stuck inside my head?

Zoey joins with her own truth.

I should've let the jagged edges meet the light instead

Mira, putting her trust in us more than she ever could.

Show me what's underneath, I'll find your harmony The song we couldn't write, this is what it sounds like

“Stop this song!” Gwi ma demands. Three tears open at the center of the stage. Demons crawling out fast. But we don’t stop.

We're shattering the silence, we're rising defiant Shouting in the quiet, you're not alone

We draw our weapons. Rumi, her sword, Mira her woldo, Zoey her Kunai’s. And me, I draw my dual daggers.

We listened to the demons, we let them get between us But none of us are out here on our own

We fight through the demons with ease, continuing our song. Souls lighting in the crowd as our voices harmonize and grow strong.

So, we were cowards, so, we were liars So, we're not heroes, we're still survivors The dreamers, the fighters, no lying, I'm tired But dive in the fire and I'll be right here by your side

Meeting in the center, we hug, creating a brand new Honmoon.

“I promise you, I am on your side,” I tell them.

“We know,” Zoey breathes with relief.

“Trust me, when I tell you that the Saja boys are on our side,” they hesitate for a moment when our eyes connect. But with a nod from Rumi, they nod too.

We broke into a million pieces, and we can't go back But now we're seeing all the beauty in the broken glass The scars are part of me, darkness and harmony My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like Why did we cover up the colors stuck inside our head? Get up and let the jagged edges meet the light instead Show me what's underneath, I'll find your harmony Fearless and undefined, this is what it sounds like

More demons spawn, crawling their way to us. The Saja boys flying up into the air. Rumi pushes forward while, Zoey, Mira and I take care of the crawling demons coming at us.

Though, Gwi ma, quickly calls them back. Abby and Romance swooping down, pretending to attack Mira. A spike of fear runs through me at the sight. Afraid she’ll attack them anyway, but she pretends right back.

Mystery lands before Zoey, staring her down menacingly. Baby, grabbing a hold of me from behind. I know he’s trying to protect me and fight away a smile that’s threatening to break on my face.

“You’re voices cannot ... defeat ... me!” Gwi ma yells, sending a blast directly at Rumi. She reacts quick enough, using her sword as a shield.

“No!” I scream out. Jinu and I seem to have the same plan.

He is there first, taking the brute force of the blast.

But I teleport behind him. Pushing him at Rumi, they both gasp. Turning to me.

“Y/n!” my eyes shift to Baby. He tries but fails to get to me. Teleporting in spurts before collapsing on the ground. Feeling exactly what I feel.

It’s not just physical. It’s like my body and soul are being torn apart from the inside out. It's that hell fire all over again, but triple the pain.

“Y/n, no,” Rumi’s voice is filled with fear. Jinu’s eyes shift from mine to Baby where he lays on the stage floor.

“I’m sorry,” I whimper. “for wanting revenge.”

“No,” she shakes her head vividly. Not agreeing with what I said. “I deserved it!” she nearly yells at me.

“It’s okay,” I struggle to smile. The pressure of the blast almost becoming to much. My heart pounds in my ears, louder and louder. Deafening me as my eyes slowly blur to a close.

But I don’t wither away like I expect. I can feel my body fighting the blast. A war raging beneath my skin. I don’t need to see it to know what’s happening.

The iridescent patterns, spread. Like veins of molten light weaving across my skin. Swallowing my entire body, covering every inch of me in the iridescent glow.

Growing brighter like a blinding radiant light, gasps ring in my head as my body blinds everyone present. Drowning the tower in an otherworldly glow.

This is what does it. All souls seem to come to life. I can’t see it, but I can feel it. From where I’m floating. The crowd sings the song. Letting Rumi, Mira and Zoey use their souls to defend themself against Gwi ma.

We broke into a million pieces, and we can't go back But now I'm seeing all the beauty in the broken glass The scars are part of me, darkness and harmony My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like Why did we cover up the colors stuck inside our head? Get up and let the jagged edges meet the light instead Show me what's underneath, I'll find your harmony Fearless and undefined, this is what it sounds like

My eyes finally seem to open as I float with them. High, higher. My voice returns and I’m able to join them in over powering Gwi ma. Our voices sealing the new Honmoon.

My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like Fearless and undefined, this is what it sounds like Truth after all this time, our voices all combined When darkness meets the light, this is what it sounds like

“Shit, Y/n,” Mira curses when the four land back on stage. But Y/n doesn’t stay standing. If it weren’t for Mira’s quick reaction time to keep her up.

Rumi is quick to help her keep, Y/n up. Worry running through her body. It’s Zoey who checks for a pulse.

“She’s alive,” she announces quietly. Their eyes find the Saja boys, still there, back in human form. Mystery and Abby carrying a, in a similar state, Baby.

A groan escapes me lips, turning around. Or trying to anyway, to face away from the light shining onto my face. The sharpness of it, not helping my headache in the slightest.

I finally manage to turn around in the tangles of my covers, taking in a deep breath. Snuggling my face into the pillow in front of me. Why is it so hard tho? I go to punch it, so it's soft but my hand finds a chest instead.

"Ow," it's not a sound of actually pain, but my eyes shoot open anyways. I instantly regret it when I'm hit with a sharp spike from the headache. Squeezing my eyes shut, arms wrap around me tighter. Pulling me closer to the person. Opening my eyes again, slower this time.

I look up, finding Baby already lazily staring back at me. A gentle smile on his lips. "Hello, darling," his voice deep from sleep.

"Hi..." I melt back into him. Snuggling my face back into his chest. Wrapping my right arm around him, grabbing hold of him tightly. The room stays silent for a while, apart from our soft breathing.

"Wait," I mumble, my eyes opening once me. "I'm alive...?"

"I guess we are," Baby agrees. A flash of him not being able to make it to me in time has chills running down my spine.

"But..." I'm so confused. "But how?" I don't remember anything of what happened after I closed my eyes when the blast got too much. "How long have we been asleep for?"

"I don't know, but it could have been longer had you not punched me," he smirks teasingly, making me pout. He kisses it away, his hands finding my waist, tickling me.

Laughter filling the room, headache gone with the wind.

"What is going on!?" the door to the room gets thrown open. Smashing against the wall. Startling us, our gazes turning to said door.

There we find, Rumi, Jinu, Zoey & Mira, Mystery, Romance and Abby close behind them.

"You're awake!" Zoey scream, rushing over to what I now realize is old my bed at the Huntrix apartment. Pulling me from Baby, she hugs me tight, Rumi and Mira not far behind. Engulfed in a hug of the people I love the most. Well, besides Baby of course.

"You guys," my voice muffled by Rumi's hoodie. "I need to actually breathe," I chuckle when they actually give me some room. "What happened?"

"Later, first food," Mira says, pulling out of bed. Had they put my pajamas on me? I wonder as I stare down at my llama pants. The men in the room just chuckle, including Baby. He to gets out of bed, wearing his own set of pajamas. Not once I had ever seen before though. They matched mine too, only his were black and white, while mine were white and black.

Before I can ask anymore questioned we're being ushed out the room. Straight to the living room where I'm made to sit down. In an instant I'm being handed my flavor ramyeon. I don't question why they had it ready already. Baby taking a seat next to me, being handed a cup of my flavor ramyeon.

They all gather around us, just staring at up with grateful smiles which kinda creeps me out. But I let it slide for a second when I notice Zoey sitting close to Mystery. My eyes shooting to Mira, happy to find her as she takes a seat between Abby and Romance.

"... Okay, now tell us what happened," I demand as we eat slowly. Wanting them to stop gawking at us.

It's a story told like a disoriented bird. It goes left, right, up down, never straight. But it's nice to hear them talking. I sink against Baby.

Listen to them explain how they all thought we were dead, pointing at both Baby and me. Relieved when they found a pulse on both of us. "Going to a hospital wasn't gonna do anything," Zoey rambles, shaking her hand dismissively. "So we brought you here."

"And we waited," Mira adds.

"And waited," Rumi adds, grinning.

"And totally did not prepare two ramyeon for you everyday in anticipation or anything," Zoey continues. Making my eyes widen. Turning my head I look at our kitchen. Stacks upon stacks of opened, hopefully empty, ramyeon cups stood on the counter.

"Oh don't worry, thats only like, idk 50 cups," Jinu shrugs.

"What!? We were OUT for 25 days!?"

"Uhm..." Rumi, Mira and Zoey both count on their fingers. "No, 26 days," they say casually, pointing at the cups we were currently holding.

"Wha-" I look at Baby whose eyes are just as wide as mine.

"We knew you two would be fine," Romance says, shrugging his shoulders. "The fact that you two sealed your mating bond protected you."

"You can feel each others pain, yes," Jinu continues. "But you also take. So while yes, you took the full blast of it. Baby over here, took half if away from you."

"That saved you from it being a lethal blow," Mystery finishes. "It just took a while to recover," he smiles sweetly.

"Okay, wow," is all I can think to say. Leaning forward to put the now empty Ramyeon on the coffee table, taking Baby's before he can protest. "But I'm still confused, did we ... win?"

"Yes," Mira chuckles. "You actually sung with is, do you not remember that?"

"No, I don't remember anything that happened after I closed my eyes. and thought I would die," Baby sat cross legged. So I swiftly placed my self between his legs. Instantly his arms wrap around my shoulders. Pecking the top of my head, lingering.

"It was so cool!" Zoey goes off. "You turned like fully iridescent! It was blinding! But that is what let us defeat Gwi ma."

"Okay, one more question," I state. "Is everything good, are we good? Did you guys tell them...?" instantly Zoey blushes and Mira turns surprisingly red. A rare sight.

"Yes, we are mated," Mystery smiles lovingly at Zoey, who turns to him. Pecking his lips sweetly.

"Us, too," Abby smirks. "We managed to tie this beauty down," he says squeezing Mira's waist who sends him a playful glare. Romance chuckling and pecking her cheek.

The end!

// Main Story // Bonus Chapters //

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red-writer13 · 19 days ago

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MASTERLIST

Bound to Them

𝐒𝐚𝐣𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

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

Warnings: Obsessive, possessive romance, paranormal/demon mate bond, emotional and physical tension (mature themes), steamy scenes, dark dynamics, light violence, Intended for mature readers only (18+)

Part 1 | Part 2 |

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red-writer13 · 20 days ago

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Saja Boys x Rumi’s Sister! Reader Pt. 4

A/N: Hello all of you. Wow, you all keep popping out of the kpop woodwork but thank you for all the support! I love reading your comments! I decided to post this today since I was able to squeeze it out tonight.

Reminder for people, I can’t tag more than fifty people so the tag list is closed. But, feel free to share outtake ideas in the comments or dm me!

TW: Self mutilation (just scratching on the arms), insecurity, and toxic mentalities (Thanks Celine)

Word Count: 4,457

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

(Reminder: Baby = Jum, Romance = Chungae, Mystery = Hyeon, and Abby = Kwan)

That night, as the Saja Boys laid outside the venue for Huntr/x’s fan sign event, there was nothing for them to do but scroll on their phones or talk to each other. Each had a single sleeping bag and only Jinu had a chair to get more comfortable so the boys were a little miserable. But, needs must in war.

“Sooo… who else has been hardcore simping for (Y/n)?” Kwan suddenly asked to fill the quiet.

“Hardcore.”

“Yeah, same.”

“Yes.”

“Obviously.”

There was just something about you that called to them. Maybe it was the way you smiled or the way you laughed without restraint? The way you treated them with normal kindness despite knowing that they served Gwi Ma? The way Gwi Ma’s voice quieted when they were around you? The way you made them feel more human than they had in centuries?

There was more to say between them. Of course there was, they were fond of this half human, half demon girl and they were plotting to destroy her world and kill her sister and her friends. And the moment you told them your weakness, they would have to exploit it to make the Honmoon and the Hunters shatter.

The Saja Boys felt a creeping feeling of despair.

~~~

That morning, you had gotten the girls up and made them something to eat then let the wardrobe and makeup team up. Their outfits were already set out in the living area along with the girls' makeup. The girls hated this part, usually doing their own makeup but it kept appearances up when there was a team doing final checks on their appearances. And pampering them. It also gave more people more jobs.

It was totally chaotic and you caught yourself scratching every now and then before your focus was drawn to something else.

“Okay okay okay, girls, team, everyone down to the cars! Gotta get the venue set up!” Bobby ushered everyone toward the elevator, the girls and you going down first and Bobby would follow with the rest of the team. You were so thankful for a private garage. It kept rabid crowds of fans trek crowding them.

When they got there, they set up the tables and the posters quickly, you making last minute adjustments to their appearance. For fan sign events, you stood behind the girls to get them anything they needed and to take care of gifts the fan gave them to keep room on the table.

Bobby set the last of the posters in front of them as the girls did final stretches and settled into their seats. “All right, team, I know everyone is all Saja, Saja, Saja, but we’re gonna turn it into Huntr/x, Huntr/x, Huntr/x! Yay! These fans slept on the sidewalk, overnight!” He did his best to hype them up.

“And I got all the fuel you guys’ll need to get through the next few hours,” You told them, nodding your head to the box of drinks and snacks you had for them.

The girls did their little circle, cheering each other with their pens, “Happy fans, happy Honmoon!” They whispered.

You took your place behind the girls as the doors opened and the fans flooded in, spearheaded by five people in sleeping bags, “Let’s bring them in! Welcome!”

The five sleeping bags eagerly waddled up to the table despite Bobby’s urging to go in a single file without pushing. You couldn’t help but giggle, it reminded you of the sleeping bag Mira had you design for her for the Met. Maybe they were Mira fans…

“And who should I make this out to?” Rumi greeted them.

“‘To our biggest fans.’”

‘Wait. You knew that sly, antagonistic, pretty voice.’

The sleeping bags dropped and the Saja Boys smoothly posed. Your jaw dropped. Did they really spend all night on the sidewalk just to mess with the girls? Were they that petty? Apparently, yes. Yes they were.

Bobby moved quickly, greeting the boys respectfully despite the interruption and the girls' complaints as they snapped their pens, summoning another table for the boys. But as soon as half the line split to line up in front of the Saja Boys’ table, Rumi stood, “The Saja Boys will sit with us!”

Zoey and Mira protested but the half of the crowd swiftly rejoined the original line as Bobby teared up at Rumi’s genius. The girls rearranged themselves, spreading out though Mira and Zoey clearly didn’t want to.

You couldn’t help the frown you had as Chungae and Kwan sidled up to Mira while Zoey fawned over Hyeon. And Jinu was whispering with Rumi. You did your job, grabbing five more waters from your box to pass out to the boys. It kinda… hurt when they didn’t acknowledge you, you knew they couldn’t, not with the fans and the other girls here, but still. It stung.

You couldn’t help but giggle when Kwan started passing out signed sketch outlines of his abs though.

You blinked and then sighed fondly when Hyeon started barking at a fan for some reason. You bit your lip, you wanted to pull him back but you couldn’t make any contact with the boys like this. You scratched at your arms in stress.

“No!” Zoey hit him with her pen, scolding him, “Bad Saja Boy!”

Hyeon backed down unhappily, pouting as he bit back a growl at the girl. He crossed his arms, sulking. ‘She hadn’t noticed how the fan’s eyes kept flickering up to stare behind them, at you,’ Hyeon mentally growled.

At the same time, Kwan, Mira, and Chungae started fighting over who would sign a fan’s leg cast first. Seeing the huge problem, you grimaced and quickly rushed over since no one else was doing anything.

“Woah, woah, woah,” You waved your arms over them, smiling tensely down at them, “Good idols don’t further injure their fans,” You hissed pointedly though your customer service smile didn’t waver. You shoved Chungae’s pen in his hand and slid the man’s leg over to him first.

”So sorry about any discomfort sir, they were just so excited to sign for you,” You bowed to the fan and scurried back to your place. You made sure to keep a watchful eye on them.

‘Why couldn’t they be like Jum? Jum was just quietly signing the posters and whatever the fans asked to be signed—within reason. Jum is being perfect. Be more like Jum guys.’

Speaking of Jum, he waved you over and you leaned down to offer your ear when he crooked his finger to the squeals of some of the fans. “Do you have any energy drinks? It was a long night on the sidewalk…” He whispered. Your face heated at the sensation of his voice in your ear and his breath fanning over your skin.

‘No! Bad thoughts (Y/n)! Focus on the boy, he wants an energy drink!’

Straightening up stiffly, you didn’t dare say anything because you knew you would stutter and stumble and make a mess of yourself. You smiled and nodded your head, hurrying over to your drink and snack stash. You were not running away from the hot maknae.

Jum couldn’t help but smirk and chuckle fondly as he watched you scurry away to get an energy drink for him. The back of your neck was flushed so he could imagine the flustered look on your face. He hadn’t even meant to, he was just really tired. But your reaction definitely gave him a little bit more energy, at least enough to smile at fans and send hearts at them every now and then. Jinu would owe them big time for this one…

“Here you go, Jum,” His name slipped out without you meaning to but, thankfully, no one seemed to hear you.

Jum took the can with a smile, making sure your fingers brushed as he did, “Thanks (Y/n).”

And then he cracked it open and took a long drink, his throat bobbing with every swallow.

‘Was this fan service!? Run (Y/n)!’

You got out of there as fast as you could. You scurried back to the safety of your drink and snack stash so you could bury your face in your hands until your face cooled down. ‘In front of the fans too…’

You looked up in time to awe over the cutest little girl ever going up to the table with a drawing, her eyes on Jinu. You couldn’t see Jinu’s face as he slowly took the drawing, other fans shouting about how much they loved Jinu.

You blinked, cocking your head in confusion when Rumi suddenly stood, her arms held out to gesture at Jinu, “Isn’t he great? Woo! Jinu, everybody! Yeah Jinu!” Rumi cheered. It set off the crowd of fans, cheering and clapping wildly as they threw bouquets of flowers to each of the Saja Boys.

“‘Woo, Jinu’?” Mira echoed in disbelief. You grimaced, she didn’t sound happy at all…

Jinu then stood, “Unfortunately, the Saja Boys have to run. Thank you, everyone.” The rest of the boys followed his lead.

You stood at attention when Bobby suddenly waved to you, “(Y/n), can you show them to the back exit and call one of the cars around?” He trailed off into muttering about how the boys never had any managers or employees with them, a little disgruntled.

You started to nod when Rumi’s protective streak flared anew, “No!”

Everyone was looking at her.

”Uhhh, I mean, I was gonna ask (Y/n) to get me a, uhhh…” Rumi trailed off, her mind blanking on what to say. The Saja Boys already kidnapped her sister once and put her in danger, she didn’t want them doing it again.

“Some more water! You wanted some more water, right Rumi?” Zoey chimed in, her smile strained as she tried to help.

“Yeah! Yeah, I need some more water!” Rumi agreed quickly. All eyes went to the half full water bottle on the table. She quickly snatched it up and chugged it down. Aggressively.

“Okay… I’ll get you some more water, you can go ahead (Y/n),” Bobby reassured and you smiled awkwardly. There was no getting out of this. Not that you really wanted to get out of it…

“It’s fine, I’ll be right back Rumi,” You reassured your sister before leading the boys to the back as they waved to the fans, “This way.”

As soon as the boys were out of sight of the fans, they sagged with exhaustion, tossing the bouquets out.

You grimaced, and fished them out of the garbage, “Come on guys… I know you guys are tired but, just take some pictures with them later or something, the fans’ll like that…” You knew they were exhausted and probably aching from sleeping on the sidewalk all night but you couldn’t just let them do that right in front of you.

Jinu was quiet behind you, staring thoughtfully at the girl’s drawing in his hand.

“Tired…”

“Too much effort…”

“Can’t do it…”

“Nghhh…”

You shook your head at them, leading them to the back exit as you juggled the flowers in your arms to get your phone and text one of the drivers to come around to the back door.

“Okay, wait right here and one of our drivers will come and take you guys wherever you need to go,” You told them, shoving your phone in your pocket.

You almost fell over when someone’s body weight was suddenly on top of your shoulders, their face resting in the crook of your shoulder. “So tired…” Hyeon groaned. You blushed but couldn’t move before Chungae and Kwan plopped on the ground to lean their back’s against both sides of your legs. Jum pouted, settling with just leaning his head against your arm as all four boys tiredly closed their eyes. You were stuck.

It was like when a cat or a dog deigned you with the honor of them laying in your lap so you didn’t dare shift even a millimeter in the horrible case of you disturbing them. Your muscles were tense and you felt like your legs were going numb but you didn’t dare move.

You looked up flatly when you heard Jinu snickering to himself. “These are your children, shouldn’t you take them?” You hissed at him.

Jinu held his hands up in surrender, “Hey, they like Mama more, that’s not my fault,” He smirked.

The cluster of five people all looked at him in deadpan. Did this guy really just insinuate that he and you were their parents? “Ew.”

Your phone chimed and you slowly shook the boys off, “Alright, car’s here guys.”

They whined but released you and got to their feet. Chungae took your hand in his, swinging them back and forth as he pleaded, “Come with us, wanna cuddle…”

‘Okay, so Chungae got childishly clingy when he was tired. Noted.’

“I can’t, you guys can’t keep kidnapping me. I gotta stay with the girls for this event,” You told him and started herding the boys outside and to the car.

“Fine…” Chungae huffed, mindlessly giving you a kiss on the cheek before he shuffled into the car first, “Bye darling…”

‘Was he really that tired?!’ Your face combusted.

Looks like they were taking turns.

Hyeon was next, taking your hand and pressing a lingering kiss to the back of it before he followed after Chungae, “‘Till next time, princess.”

Kwan wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you in a tight hug and oh gosh. You can feel all his muscles. “See you later, babe.” And then he was climbing into the car too.

Jum approached you with a cool air, but his eyes didn’t meet yours as he took your hand in his and gave it a soft, shy squeeze, “Thanks for the drink earlier, beautiful.” You opened your hand as he climbed into the car to see your favorite candy. Was this gift-giving…?

Jinu tried to hide his chuckle at how red and flustered you were as snores started sounding from the car already. You pouted at him. “You look like the co-host from ‘Play Games With Us!’ after the spicy challenge,” He quietly cackled.

Was your face really that red? You pressed your hands to your cheeks to cool them down, tossing the flowers into the car after the boys. “Shut it, pretty boy,” You grumbled petulantly.

Jokes on him, now he was flustered and blushing. Jinu could dish it out but he couldn’t take it when the flirting was directed at him apparently.

Jinu cleared his throat, looking away from your little smirk as he fumbled with his hands. “Okay, uh, I’ll see you around.”

“Okay. Bye Jinu,” You waved as he fumbled to get into the car as you walked back to the door.

“Uh, byeee, ugh,” he cringed at the way his voice came out. You didn’t get to hear him mutter and groan at himself as he quickly closed the car door behind him and the car soon took off.

You shook your head in amusement at the boys and went back inside to finish the event with the girls.

It was hours later of Rumi glancing worriedly at you out of the corner of her eye until the event finished, Bobby grinning happily at the success of the event.

“Great job girls!” He cheered, circling the table as employees cleaned up the venue. He showed his phone to Mira and Zoey joined to see what it was, “The internet loves this, and the internet is never wrong!”

You looked over their shoulders as Mira snatched Bobby’s phone to go through the stories, “Rujinu! That’s genius.” It was a picture of Jinu and Rumi’s feet touching under the table with the caption, ‘Rujinu?! Playing footsie?!’

Mira tapped through to a drawing of Zoey with a glowering baby Jum in her arms and Hyeon at her side with a beaming smile, “Zoeystery. Where did they come up with that?”

And an edit of Mira with Chungae and Kwan on each side of her, the three surrounded by hearts, “Miro-mabby?” Mira tried to sound out the poly ship name as her fist clenched.

“Aw, you’re so cute together!” Zoey cooed lightheartedly.

Your eyes widened when Mira clicked again and this time it was a collage of Jum whispering in your ear earlier, drinking the energy drink, and you burying your red face in your hands with the caption, ‘(Y/n) is literally us, same girl! I hardcore ship it tho! (Y/n) + Baby!’ With plenty of hearts.

Zoey gasped excitedly, “They even did you, (Y/n)!”

You bit your lip, flushing as Mira turned her head to look at you, “You were blushing over them?” She asked you incredulously.

You stared flatly back at her, “I don’t wanna hear it when you kept watching Abby make those sketches of his abs.”

She shrugged, “Point taken.”

Zoey nodded, “Yeah, fair enough.”

~~~

Rumi didn’t know what to do.

On one hand, she had Zoey and Mira with this diss track, racing towards their goal of destroying all demons and trapping them in the demon realm with Gwi Ma for eternity.

On the other hand, she had Jinu and the constant niggling in her head that not all demons deserve to suffer.

And below it all, the protective determination to protect you, her sister. The faster she completed the Honmoon, the faster her and your patterns would be gone so you both could live normal lives. That’s what she wanted for you.

Rumi couldn’t talk to you about what was going on, you wouldn’t understand. And she didn’t want to freak you out over Jinu knowing about her—and by extension—your patterns.

But she did have to talk to Jinu. Maybe there was hope for him. And if there was hope for him, then there must be hope for you and her.

That’s why she gave the note to Derpy to give to Jinu.

So, early in the morning as the sun was just barely about to come up, she saw Jinu waiting for her. “She wants to meet, and she’s late?”

Rumi couldn’t help but sneak up behind him and land on the wall, making him shriek and flail as he turned and saw her suddenly crouched behind him. “You made me come all the way out here so you could jump-scare me?!” He panted, gripping his chest as he felt his heart slowly come down from the hummingbird speed it had jumped to. (Y/n) would never treat him like this…

Rumi jumped down smoothly, ignoring his question. “Follow me.”

He did. “Well, I’m glad you’re finally ready to talk. Although, you could’ve picked somewhere nicer for a date.”

Rumi faltered, “‘Date’? No! Ew! What are you talking about?”

Jinu pointedly held up the invite she had sent him, reading, ‘Save the Date.’

“That doesn’t mean—“ She sighed frustratedly, “You’re so old. This is strictly a business meeting.” She snatched the invite from him, going back to her walk as he trailed after her.

“Right… I thought you were into your friends. Glad it’s not me,” Jinu mused as he followed the purple haired girl.

Rumi blanched again, “What?! No! No way! I— They— We— Just, just keep your nose out of my love life, okay?! Business. Meeting.”

Jinu held up his hands in surrender, “Okay, loud and clear,” He agreed and the two resumed walking, Rumi with much redder cheeks than she had arrived with.

“What if I told you there’s another way to get your freedom?” Rumi asked him, her face serious and solemn now.

“Go on.”

“Help us win the Idol Awards. Because when we win, the Honmoon will be sealed,” Rumi explained, hopping up onto the wall with a touch to the Honmoon so it glowed out over the city. “And that will guarantee your freedom. Gwi Ma will be permanently cut off, and all the demons will be gone from this world. My sister and I will finally be free of these patterns. No more hiding. No more secrets. You can be on this side when the Honmoon is sealed. Away from the demon world, away from Gwi Ma. You can be free from those voices forever.”

Jinu looked away in consideration. Rumi didn’t know his true story, she thought he had made a deal for his family, when in reality, he made the deal for himself. Besides, her thinking was flawed, even he could see it. She was telling herself comforting lies.

“But I am a mistake.”

Jinu frowned at her words, looking up at her.

“Have been since the moment I was born. So, I have to believe. Because if there’s no hope for you, what hope is there for me?”

After a moment, he couldn’t help but ask, “And your sister? Is she a mistake too?”

Rumi looked down, conflicted. “(Y/n)… I don’t want to think so, I love her. But… if we weren’t born the way we were, maybe she would’ve been able to use the Honmoon like us…” Rumi trailed off softly, unsure and bitter over her own conflicted thoughts and emotions on her sister.

They were interrupted by a middle aged woman offering a bracelet to Jinu to give to his ‘girlfriend.’ The two flailed, stumbling over their words until the woman gave Jinu a flat look and Rumi the bracelet with the advice to find a better boy since Jinu was hopeless.

“Well, there’s your answer. Hopeless.”

Rumi gave the bracelet a soft, thoughtful look, “That’s the funny thing about hope. Nobody else gets to decide if you feel it. That choice belongs to you.” She held the bracelet out to offer him, “Here. Think of it as a… friendship bracelet.”

When Jinu took too long to think about it, Rumi turned away to leave with a sigh. “Wait.” He told her, holding his hand out for the bracelet when she turned. She smiled softly and slid it into his hand.

Looking at the bracelet in his hand, he couldn’t help but say, “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you or your sister are mistakes.”

Then they went their separate ways.

~~~

It was all getting to be too much for you.

The girls were at the venue for the Idol Awards since early this morning, practicing their performance for Takedown. You had asked Bobby to deliver snacks to girls for you because you were busy running errands in the city. Bobby had reassured you that he would do that while you did your errands—i.e. getting some air.

Since the fan sign event, you had been scratching at your patterns more and more. The Idol Awards were tomorrow and it seemed like you couldn’t escape Takedown whenever you were in the apartment with the girls. It always seemed to be playing, whether the girls were changing lyrics, working on choreography or just rehearsing singing the song.

And the more time you spent with the Saja Boys, the less you wanted the Honmoon to be completed.

Jum pretended to be aloof but he liked to give you little things that reminded him of you. He often found you while you were out running errands just so he could follow you while you did, no matter how boring it was like getting groceries. The both of you had gone back to the cat cafe the other day and had taken selfies on his phone with the cats. He had a whole album of them now.

Chungae came to your balcony most nights to whisk you up to the tower roof balcony. You two would sit and look out over the city, just talking. He would insert a flirty line every now and then to see you blush and rile you up but would always smooth it over with a fond smile.

Hyeon was more of a wildcard. He would find you while you were getting a breath of fresh air at the park or just in the city. Like he had a built in radar for you, he would find you when you felt stressed and he would distract you. He was a little protective though, growling at people he felt were too close to the two of you.

Kwan was starting to make a foodie out of you. He would barge in during random parts of the day when you were alone to drag you off to a new food place he had found or heard about. No matter how bizarre it seemed, he would always try it and you somehow ended up trying it too. He would draw you into little debates, getting you wound up in your bickering until you were laughing with your eyes passionate as you argued your point.

And Jinu was like a ghost fading in and out between all these different interactions. He was probably the calmest besides Jum and Chungae—it was a little weird that those two were the calmest when they were the two youngest of the group. Jinu introduced you to Derpy, his tiger and the little demon bird that always accompanied him. You laughed when he explained that he had made the hat for Derpy but bird kept taking it. Jinu and you bonded over music. You shared modern music with him, not just modern kpop, but jazz, rock, punk, pop, classical, everything you could think of. The two of you would sit under the night sky, an earbud in each of your ears as you listened to music.

You didn’t want to lose the five boys that had somehow wormed their way into your heart, not when they made you feel more safe and seen than even Rumi did. Besides, if even the five boys who were so kind and comforting to you ended up trapped on the other side of the Honmoon, then what hope was there that you would get to stay? In your stress, your patterns have progressed more than Rumi’s has. She could still wear shorts and skirts if she wanted to, even if her arms and neck had to be covered. But you?

Your patterns have progressed well onto your legs to the point where you couldn’t wear shorts or anything that showed your legs at all. The stress was making you scratch so bad despite you taking Jinu’s advice and trying to keep your nails short, that you had to start bandaging your arms under your sleeves to try and mitigate the harm you were unintentionally doing to yourself.

“(Y/n)?” You looked up at the call of your name. Oh yeah. You were trying to get some air so you went for a walk.

Who is it?

(A/N: Vote for who it is here! Can’t post anything until the poll is over!)

Outtakes:

*Before the Series*

You: “You completely wrecked your private jet?!”

Huntr/x: “It wasn’t our fault! It was the demons!”

You: *Pulling your hair out* “That is literally your excuse for everything!”

…

Jinu: *Resting semi-comfortably on a chair* “So…How you guys doing?”

Saja Boys: *Laying on the cold hard cement sidewalk, plotting Jinu’s death* “Shut the f*** up.”

…

Random Fan: “Awww, Mira, Romance and Abby get along so well, it’s so cute!~”

Mira, Romance, Abby: *Currently trying to kill each other*

Other fan: *side eyeing their friend* “Yeah…so well…”

Random Fan: *Manically whispering* “I will die on this ship.”

…

Jinu: “So, you like those other girls, right?”

Rumi: *Bipanic mode activated, blue screen mode activated* “Uhhhh…”

…

Rumi: “Yeah…me and my sister were born as mistakes.”

The Saja Boys, Mira, Zoey: *Ready to fight* “I’m sorry, what?”

Tag list: @brights-place @itmechaosartist @reni502 @chin-chii @cultish-corner @enerofairy @mama-m1na @akariis4snowball @gremlinartstudio @shynotded @shadowmoonlight0604 @omgsuperstarg @neigesprincess @sleep-7372 @hurts-my-brain @kiwibackie @gh0stied3ath @naysha140 @theferretkids @lelantyuu @sexyindependentdowntospendit @hornehlittleweeblet2 @moonymoo1 @moochiwoochi @cheolright @crescent-z @prorpy @mey-archive @cami1qx @nerdalicios @xxsadlovexx @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @blackheart34 @anonymousewrites @scarletrosesposts @justanindiangirl12 @beexboo @tatsuri-zomushiki @call-me-nyxx @queenofviolenceandnerds @randomfan218-blog @jaybbygrl @unholycheesesnack @ocean-mochi @iviorienne @confusedparticle @otakusimp1 @nosbaby07 @fries11 @ri-eveowe @1950schick @libdarkheart @yourjustassaneasiamx @the-bookish-artist @anduinandwrathionlover @eternallyrosyfire @lysira340 @lansy-4 @strayharmony943 @maximumtrashchild @bleufu1 @minepugs @valeriele3 @arieslucy @nisarelle @suzieq1948374

4K notes · View notes

red-writer13 · 28 days ago

Text

Animals Without Direction Masterlist

Cover Art by @seochngbin 🤍❤️🖤

Ao3 Link - Latest Update (November 24th) - Chapter Forty-Two

⚔️ Updates every other week ⚔️ Character Descriptions World Map ot8 x reader Stray Kids Fantasy!AU 18+ MDNI

WARNINGS: THIS STORY CONTAINS HEAVY THEMES OF VIOLENCE, GENOCIDE, SEXUAL ASSAULT, HATE CRIMES, AND OTHER SENSITIVE TOPICS.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Swordfighting, Magic, Eventual Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Romance, Adventure, Fighting, High Fantast, Slow Burn, Extremely Slow Burn, Plot Heavy

Summary:

“No.” Your voice was stern, your eyes didn’t even look up from the plate in front of you. A healthy helping of roasted potatoes being pushed around by the metal fork in your hand.

“I am offering you a hefty sum of gold,” the man’s voice pleaded with you.

“I am well aware of the amount you offer, but you must think me mad to go anywhere near Miroh.”

“Thrice the amount, then.”

You paused.

Swallowing your mouthful of food, you placed your fork back on the table; tonguing your cheek and shifting on your seat.

Individually, you cracked each knuckle on both hands, your mind reeling.

“Explain the job to me once more.��

Chapter One - Thrice The Amount Chapter Two - Stained Glass Window Chapter Three - Red and Gold Throw Pillows Chapter Four - Sword Sparks Chapter Five - Careful, Merchant Chapter Six - Aye, My Lord Chapter Seven - Decree Chapter Eight - Twenty Laps Chapter Nine - Clear Your Plate Chapter Ten - By First Light Chapter Eleven - Permitted to Die Chapter Twelve - Rest Chapter Thirteen - Jump Chapter Fourteen - Quite Certain Chapter Fifteen - Serendipitously Chapter Sixteen - Make it in Three Chapter Seventeen - Hang in There Chapter Eighteen - Sunshine in the Night Chapter Nineteen - Dance Lessons Chapter Twenty - While Dancing Chapter Twenty One - Mend Chapter Twenty Two - Of Course Chapter Twenty Three - Tea With Sugar Chapter Twenty Four - Dagger Chapter Twenty Five - The Gracious Host Chapter Twenty Six - The Dove Waltz Chapter Twenty Seven - Imported Cigars Chapter Twenty Eight - Use Chapter Twenty-Nine - Between Two Walls Chapter Thirty - Missed You Chapter Thirty-One - Bonfire Chapter Thirty-Two - Music of the World Chapter Thirty-Three - Stay Here Chapter Thirty-Four - Ward Chapter Thirty-Five - Sunset Chapter Thirty-Six - Drums Chapter Thirty-Seven - The Horn of Miroh Chapter Thirty-Eight - Four Hundred and Thirteen Chapter Thirty-Nine - By The Six Chapter Forty - Mortal's Touch Chapter Forty-One - Rescue Mission Chapter Forty-Two - The Stars Missed You

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red-writer13 · 28 days ago

Text

SKZ Crack!Horror Master List

List below the moodboard

Part One Info Part Two Info

Bang Chan

You Live Like This?

Lee Know

That Your Man?

That Your Man? pt. II

Seo Changbin

Blink Twice If You Need Help

Hwang Hyunjin

Don't Look at Me Like That

Han Jisung

You Called?

Lee Felix

All Ye Who Enter Here part 2

Kim Seungmin

Damn Puppy Dog Eyes

Yang Jeongin

Do You Need A Straw?

Part One Info Part Two Info

exploratory tag list : @velvetmoonlght

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red-writer13 · 1 month ago

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Hands On My Throat

Bestfriend! Chan x Reader

Tags: explicit sexual content, choking kink / neck play, brat taming, praise + possessiveness, slight dom/sub dynamic, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, multiple positions, couch sex, shower sex, best friends to lovers, sexual tension

Word count : 9.6k

Summary: He’s the golden boy of your friend group, also your best friend of ten years. Touchy without thinking. Protective without asking. And hot—criminally hot—without ever being yours. Until one night, in the middle of a crowded living room, his hand wraps around your neck without thinking. And you realize… he has no idea.

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

Next>>

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There was no knock. There never was.

Chan walked into your apartment like he paid rent—hoodie half-zipped, keys jingling in his hand, the familiar scent of clean laundry and whatever cologne he swiped from his dresser that morning trailing in after him. He kicked off his shoes like a man with no shame and made a beeline for your fridge.

You didn’t even look up from your laptop. “You steal one more yogurt and I’m reporting you to the building board.”

He opened the fridge. “You don’t even like Greek yogurt.”

“You don’t know my life.”

“I know you used it once for a TikTok mask and gagged.”

You grinned. “Okay, fine. But still. Ask before you mooch.”

He shut the fridge and padded over, yogurt in one hand, water bottle in the other. “Never have. Never will.”

Chan dropped onto the couch beside you, close enough for his thigh to press solidly against yours. He stretched his arm behind you like he was at a movie theatre trying to flirt with a stranger. His fingers brushed your shoulder, then stayed there. Rested. Comfortable.

Normal.

You didn’t move. Just kept typing, one leg curled beneath you, the other pressed tight against his. You’d long since stopped noticing how often his body found yours. Chan was touchy—had been since high school. Always stretching across your lap, squeezing your arms, playing with your fingers absentmindedly during long talks. You didn’t even flinch when his palm dropped to your knee now, warm and casual.

This was just how it had always been.

People didn’t get it. Not back in school, not in college, not now when you lived a few floors apart and spent most nights either at his place or yours. The teasing from friends had been endless, and the side-eyes never stopped. But neither of you had ever crossed that line. Not even once.

Not even close.

You were hot. He was hot. That was an objective fact. But hot didn’t mean available. It didn’t mean interested. Not between you two.

Chan opened the yogurt with one hand and shoved the lid at you. “Lick this. Be useful.”

You turned your face slowly. “You want me to lick your foil lid?”

“I’m not dirtying a spoon just to eat this.”

“You’re so unserious.”

“I’m efficient.”

You took the lid, licked it once with a dramatic roll of your eyes, and handed it back. “Happy?”

He grinned. “Always.”

He popped the rest of the yogurt into his mouth and grabbed the TV remote, settling in like he didn’t plan on leaving for hours. You weren’t surprised. Most nights looked like this—Chan in your space, touching you somewhere, somehow, while the two of you talked about everything and nothing. He never asked. You never flinched. You barely noticed anymore.

And even when his hand slid just a little higher on your thigh—thumb brushing back and forth across the thin fabric of your shorts—you didn’t think twice. It didn’t register. Just Chan being Chan. Just another Tuesday.

⸻

Chan’s living room was loud. Like it always was when everyone crowded into his space.

Music buzzed from the Bluetooth speaker someone had connected half an hour ago. Your group of friends were splayed across every surface—couch cushions, beanbags, someone cross-legged on the floor—arguing over which movie to watch while the food delivery slowly made its way through Friday night traffic.

You were curled into the corner of the couch, legs tucked beneath you, half-listening, half-scrolling on your phone. Comfortable. Cozy. Familiar.

You’d lost count of how many nights like this there’d been. Movie nights, lazy dinners, game nights that never ended with the actual game. And Chan—always at the center of it. Hosting, leaning against walls with his arms crossed, eyes creased from laughter.

Right now, he was behind you, one knee on the couch as he leaned over to grab the remote off the coffee table. The angle brought his chest close to your back, the edge of his hoodie brushing your cheek before he spoke over your head.

“Why are we even voting?” he asked. “We all know it’s gonna end up being some sad indie movie with subtitles.”

“Because you like chaos,” someone shot back. “We’re trying to have feelings tonight.”

Chan huffed a laugh, dropped the remote onto the cushion beside you, and stayed where he was—half-standing behind the couch, his weight shifting from one arm to the next.

Then you felt it.

One hand landed lightly on your shoulder. And before you could glance back or even think twice, it slid upward.

His palm curved gently around the side of your neck.

Not tight. Not firm. Just resting.

His thumb brushed the underside of your jaw once, then paused, like he was measuring something.

“Huh,” he murmured, half to himself. “Your neck’s tiny.”

He squeezed—not hard, just curious. Testing the width of it in his hand. Like he was checking the fit of something he already owned. His fingers spread easily around your throat, thick and relaxed, his thumb nearly meeting his fingertips on the other side.

You didn’t move.

Couldn’t.

You kept your phone up, face calm, body casual. But inside?

You were choking.

Silently. Violently.

He had no idea.

He wasn’t even thinking about it. It was just Chan being Chan—touchy, absentminded, always touching you. Always. You’d never given it a second thought.

But this?

This was the one place you’d never imagined his hand.

The one part of your body that could short-circuit you with just a look, if the wrong person stared too long. And here he was—fingers wrapped casually around it, thumb brushing over your pulse, eyes probably still on the TV while your soul momentarily left your body.

You blinked. Swallowed. Scrolled aimlessly to mask the tension pooling hot in your stomach.

“Chan,” someone called out. “You good?”

“Yeah,” he said distractedly, thumb still grazing your neck. “Just thinking how weird it is that this—” he gave the softest squeeze, “—could pop like a grape.”

You let out a short, strangled sound that you masked as a cough.

Chan chuckled and finally moved away, dropping onto the armrest beside you with a bounce. His arm still brushed your shoulder, but the pressure on your throat was gone. Like it never happened.

Like it meant nothing.

And to him, it probably didn’t.

But to you?

You weren’t even sure if your breath had come back yet.

⸻

The door shut with a final click.

Silence fell over Chan’s apartment, the kind that only came after hours of noise—empty cups scattered across his counter, the echo of laughter still clinging to the walls. You sank deeper into the couch with a sigh, one hand absently rubbing your shoulder where it ached from sitting in the same position too long.

Chan reappeared from the kitchen, hair pushed back by a band now, hoodie sleeves rolled to the elbows. He tossed a bottle of water onto the coffee table and plopped down beside you, then paused.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” you said, too quick. “Just… tired.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re stiff.”

You shrugged, not looking at him. “Yeah, well. You try staying upright for four hours while Minho screams at the TV like it insulted his mother.”

Chan smiled lazily. “You’re carrying tension. Scoot up.”

“What?”

He patted the space between his legs. “C’mon. Let me fix it.”

You hesitated, but only for a beat.

This wasn’t new. He’d given you shoulder rubs before—during finals in college, during hell weeks at your old job, after long car rides or moving days. It was Chan. Your Chan. The one person you trusted not to make anything feel weird.

So you shifted forward, sitting cross-legged between his thighs, and let him rest his hands on your shoulders.

At first, it was nothing.

Just firm pressure. The pads of his thumbs pushing slow, rhythmic circles into your traps, rolling out the knots like he had all the time in the world. You melted, just a little, head tipping forward under the strength of it.

“Jesus,” you muttered, “where did you even learn how to do that?”

“Years of stress,” he said. “You get good at fixing what you live with.”

You huffed something like a laugh, eyelids falling shut.

Then his thumbs pushed deeper, finding the ridge near the base of your neck, and you let out a low groan of relief.

It felt too good. Way too good.

But it was still safe.

Until his hands shifted.

Slid higher.

Thumbs brushing the edges of your neck now. Rubbing the muscles that fed into it. Soft. Slow. Intent.

Your body tensed before your brain caught up—and then it slipped.

A sound left you.

High-pitched. Sharp.

Needy.

You bit it back immediately, lips slamming shut, but the damage was done. It hung there in the air for a second too long—too feminine, too out of place for the room’s quiet.

Chan stilled.

You didn’t breathe.

Then—

“You good?” he asked lightly, voice above your head.

You could hear the confusion. Like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard it right. Or if you meant it the way it sounded.

“I—yeah.” Your voice cracked, and you cleared your throat. “Just sore.”

He hummed. Didn’t say anything else.

His hands moved again, this time slower, gentler—sweeping wide across your shoulders before sliding up again, thumbs circling your neck with almost tender pressure. Like he was feeling out the muscle tension—but also maybe trying to see if you’d make that sound again.

You were still. Too still.

“Didn’t think you were holding this much here,” he murmured. His thumbs pressed gently into the dip just behind your jaw. “You always carry it this high?”

You nodded too fast. “Y-Yeah. Must’ve slept weird.”

His touch softened, almost affectionate now, tracing down your neck with his thumbs before slipping away entirely. The absence of it made your breath hiccup.

You couldn’t look back at him.

Not yet.

Because now you weren’t sure if he didn’t notice…

Or if he definitely did.

You hadn’t mentioned it.

Neither had he.

Not when you stood to leave a few minutes later, not when he walked you to the door like he always did, not even when his hand lingered low on your back as you slipped on your slides.

If anything, he looked more normal than usual. Relaxed. Even smiled when you told him you’d come by tomorrow to help clean.

“Don’t forget I’m your friend, not your maid,” you said.

He gave your arm a little squeeze. “You’re both.”

And that was that.

Or so you thought.

—

The next day, his apartment looked exactly the same. A few stray cups gathered in the sink, a throw blanket half-draped off the couch, crumbs on the coffee table. You tossed your bag down and got to work wiping things down while he gathered trash from the bedroom.

“You could at least pretend to clean while I’m here,” you called out.

“I am cleaning,” he shouted back. “I just clean in peace. Unlike someone.”

You rolled your eyes, grinning.

It was easy again. Like nothing happened.

Until it wasn’t.

He emerged from the hallway, rubbing the back of his neck, then padded barefoot across the room to take the rag from your hand.

“Okay,” he said. “Can we talk about something?”

You glanced at him. “What?”

He didn’t speak right away.

Instead, he took the rag, folded it neatly, and set it on the table—slow and deliberate, like he was giving you time to brace.

Then he looked at you. Really looked.

“That sound you made,” he said, voice quiet. “Yesterday. When I was rubbing your neck.”

Your stomach dropped. Not in panic. Just in… sheer mortified awareness.

You played dumb. “What sound?”

Chan tilted his head, amused.

“Don’t do that.”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” you insisted, backing a step toward the kitchen, like that would save you.

He followed. One step. Two.

“You made a sound,” he said, not letting it go. “High. Like… I don’t know. Not pain. Definitely not pain.”

Your cheeks flamed. “Okay, and?”

“It just surprised me.” His voice stayed calm. Curious. “You don’t usually sound like that.”

You swallowed hard, crossing your arms in a weak attempt at a barrier. “It was nothing. You just hit a spot. I didn’t even realize I—”

“Sure,” he cut in gently. “But… I’m sure I’ve hit that spot before.”

You froze.

He smiled again, but it was slower now. Measured. A little too knowing.

Your voice came out small. “So?”

“So…” he scratched at his jaw, like he was still figuring out what he wanted to say. “I don’t know. It just sounded like… something else.”

Silence.

Heavy. Awkward. Charged.

You looked down. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Chan stepped a little closer.

You could smell him again—clean and warm, the same scent you’d been surrounded by for years. But now? It clung to your skin differently. Sunk into your pulse.

He was watching you carefully. Not pressuring. Not pushing.

Just… observing.

“Okay,” he said finally. “I believe you.”

Relief hit you, fast and fleeting.

“But if you had meant something by it,” he added, voice lower now, “you’d tell me, right?”

Your breath hitched.

He wasn’t teasing anymore.

He wasn’t joking.

You met his gaze—eyes warm, calm, steady. There wasn’t a trace of judgment in them. No expectation either. Just the softest, slightest pull of curiosity.

And something else you couldn’t name yet.

You looked away.

“Clean your damn table, Christopher.”

He smirked. “So that’s a no?”

“That’s a goodnight.”

You grabbed your bag and made a beeline for the door, pulse thudding in your throat, your skin hot all over. You could still feel the ghost of his hand there, even now. Still circling. Still squeezing.

And the worst part? You knew you’d dream about it.

The second you turned toward the door, you knew he wasn’t going to let it slide.

You felt it.

That shift in the air. The narrowing of his patience. Chan wasn’t dumb, and he wasn’t oblivious. You’d slipped out of a hundred close calls with him over the years, danced around every whisper of tension—but now?

He had a thread.

And he was pulling it.

“Wait,” he said, quiet.

You kept walking.

“Don’t be weird about it,” you muttered. “I said it was nothing.”

The words barely left your mouth before you felt his hand curling around the waistband of your sweatpants and pulling you back into him with a snap.

Your breath hitched.

Back to his chest. Spine to his hoodie. You froze, lips parting in disbelief.

“Chan—”

He grabbed your face before you could finish. One hand cupping your jaw, the other squishing your cheeks together so your lips puckered slightly, tilting your head back against him.

Your breath caught.

“Tell me,” he said, voice low—so low it brushed against your ear like a hum. “That moan. Was it your neck?”

You squirmed, heat rushing to your face, but his grip was firm. Not rough. Just insistent. Gentle like the beginning of something you weren’t ready to name yet.

“I said it was nothing,” you mumbled through his hold.

“I heard you the first time.” His hand loosened just enough for your jaw to move, but his palm didn’t leave your skin. “But that’s not what I asked.”

You turned your head slightly, but he followed the motion, chest warm against your back, his breath fanning across your temple.

“I’m not judging you,” he said softer now, almost amused. “I’m just asking… do you have a thing for this?”

His hand dropped—slow, steady—fingertips trailing from your jaw down the curve of your throat.

You stopped breathing.

His palm hovered just under your chin, thumb resting at the side of your neck, fingers spread. Barely touching. Barely grazing.

Then— He wrapped.

Not tight. Not firm. Just enough to feel his fingers circle you.

Just enough to remind you how small you were in his hand.

Everything in you went still.

Your lips parted again—useless, breathless, caught. You didn’t moan this time, but the silence said enough.

Chan’s voice dipped, teasing now. “So you do.”

You turned your face away, jaw tensed. “It’s not like that.”

His hand didn’t move.

“Then what’s it like?”

You stayed quiet, hands fisting at your sides.

“I didn’t even squeeze,” he murmured, voice velvet-slick. “And you froze like I switched you off with a button.”

“Shut up.”

He grinned. “Ohhh. So it’s like that.”

You tried to step forward, but his grip on your waistband tightened just slightly—reminding you he still had you. That he could pull again. That he would.

He leaned in, lips almost brushing your ear now.

“I’m not mad,” he said, gentle. “I’m not freaked out. I just…” his thumb grazed under your chin again, slow, sweet, deadly. “I think it’s kinda cute.”

“Chan,” you warned, but it came out too soft. Too breathy.

He let go of your jaw, finally. Stepped back a little.

His hand dropped from your neck like nothing happened.

But nothing about your body felt normal anymore.

“I’m gonna order takeout,” he said casually, walking to the kitchen. “You want the usual?”

You blinked.

Stared at him, stunned. “Are you serious?”

He glanced back with a smirk.

“Dead serious. But—if you wanna talk more about your kinks after dinner, I’m free.”

⸻

Dinner was a blur.

You barely tasted anything.

Chan ordered your usual like it was a normal night, like he hadn’t manhandled your face and wrapped his hand around your neck barely twenty minutes ago. He sat across from you at his counter, hoodie sleeves shoved to the elbows, digging into pizza while casually talking about Genshin.

You blinked at your own bowl, lips still tingling, mind running marathons.

He’d touched you a thousand times before—your waist, your thigh, your cheek, your lower back—but not like that.

Not with intent.

Not while calling you out about your kinks like he was just checking the weather.

You poked at your own noodles.

“So we’re not gonna talk about it?” you asked.

Chan looked up, chewing, one brow lifted.

“Talk about what?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t play dumb.”

A beat of silence.

Then the softest smirk curled on his lips. “Thought you didn’t wanna talk about it.”

You stared at him.

Something low and hot coiled in your stomach. That smug little tone he always used on you when he knew he’d won—when he baited you into spilling, or laughing, or saying something you didn’t mean to say.

And suddenly?

You’d had enough. You dropped your fork. Sat back in your chair.

“Fine,” you said, eyes locked on his. “You wanna talk kinks? Let’s talk.”

The smile slipped from his face, slow and sharp—like something in him clicked.

“…Now?”

You crossed your arms, chin high. “You started it.”

Chan leaned forward, resting his forearms on the counter. “Alright,” he said slowly. “Let’s go.”

His voice was low again. Not teasing this time. Steady. Intrigued. Like you’d just pulled a loaded weapon on the table and told him to pick a side.

You swallowed. “We’ve never talked about this before.”

“I know.”

“We said we wouldn’t.”

“I remember.”

“So why now?”

Chan shrugged. “Because you moaned like someone touched your soul when I only grazed your neck and then tried to lie about it. And now I’m curious.”

You flushed.

“Curious about what?”

His gaze didn’t waver. “You.”

A silence stretched between you—hot, tight, heavy.

You laughed once, hollow. “God. This is so fucking weird.”

Chan tilted his head. “Is it?”

“Yes!” you threw your hands up. “You’re my best friend.”

“I’m still your best friend.”

“And we don’t talk about sex.”

“We do now.”

Your breath caught.

His eyes were too dark. Too steady. There was no out here.

You inhaled slowly. “Fine. What do you wanna know?”

Chan sat back again, folding his arms. “What else does it for you?”

You blinked. “Seriously?”

He nodded. “Dead serious.”

You hesitated.

Then—like the words tasted like sin—you said quietly, “Hands.”

A pause.

Chan’s lips twitched. “Yeah. I figured.”

“Big ones,” you added without thinking. “Veiny. Rough. Confident.”

His eyes gleamed. “That why you always let me manhandle you like a ragdoll?”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I’m just observing,” he said. “What else?”

You gave him a flat look. “What, you taking notes now?”

He leaned in again, elbows on the table, voice dark velvet. “I will if you keep talking like that.”

Your thighs pressed together under the table.

You looked away. “You go. Say something.”

He was quiet for a second.

Then—casually—“I like brats.”

You choked.

“Excuse me?”

Chan grinned. “Smart mouths. Girls who push back. Who pretend they don’t wanna listen but fold the second I—”

“Okay!” you raised a hand. “That’s enough, Freud.”

He laughed, head tipping back.

But the tension didn’t ease.

If anything—it twisted tighter.

You bit your lip. “So like… choking. Is that weird?”

He blinked. “Is what weird? Wanting it done to you? Or doing it to someone?”

You paused. “…Both?”

Chan tilted his head, thoughtful. “Not weird. But it’s intense.”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

Another silence.

He watched you. “You like intense?”

You looked up.

His eyes were too sharp again. Too serious.

You whispered, “Yeah.”

He stood.

You froze as he walked around the counter, bare feet soundless against the tile. He stopped in front of you, hand sliding onto your jaw—soft, slow—and tilted your face up again.

Your breath caught.

“You could’ve told me,” he said, voice low. “Any of this.”

“I thought you didn’t wanna hear it.”

His grip firmed just slightly—thumb brushing your cheek, the edge of your lip.

“I didn’t,” he said. “Until you moaned like that.”

His hand dipped.

Neck again.

Only this time, his fingers wrapped tight—not choking, but claiming. Measuring. Knowing.

And this time?

You didn’t pretend.

You looked him dead in the eye as your lips parted on a breathy, involuntary gasp.

“Yeah,” Chan whispered, smiling now. “That one.”

You should’ve walked away.

Should’ve laughed it off, said something dumb and deflective, gone home and buried yourself in blankets until the heat left your skin.

But you didn’t.

You sat there—his hand on your neck, your thighs clenched under the counter, breath caught somewhere in your throat—and you let him.

Chan was quiet. His eyes searched yours, slow and steady, like he was reading pages of you you didn’t even know were open.

His fingers flexed slightly around your neck. A light squeeze.

Not rough.

Just enough to say, I’m still here. You feel me, right?

And God… you did.

“You’re really into this,” he murmured.

You looked away, cheeks warm. “It’s not like I think about it all the time.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

He hummed.

Then leaned closer.

“But you’ve imagined it.”

You stiffened.

He chuckled lowly, and you felt it through his palm, the softest vibration echoing down your spine. “That’s not a no.”

You turned your head, just slightly, and muttered, “You’re annoying.”

He pulled back.

Only to hook his fingers under your jaw again, tilting your chin up like you weighed nothing in his grip. “There she is,” he said, smiling like you’d done something delicious.

“What?”

“That mouth,” he said, tapping your lip once with his thumb. “That bratty tone.”

“I wasn’t being bratty.”

“Mhm,” he smirked, stepping back. “Sure you weren’t.”

He let go.

The loss of contact was immediate—jarring.

Your neck felt cold without his hand on it.

Chan crossed to the couch and collapsed into it, legs spread, arms stretched along the backrest. Like nothing had just happened. Like your whole reality hadn’t just tipped sideways.

You turned slowly. “What the hell was that?”

“What?”

You gestured vaguely at the space between you. “That.”

Chan shrugged. “Just testing a theory.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What theory?”

“That I’ve been missing out.”

You blinked. “Missing out on what?”

He grinned, head resting lazily against the cushion. “This side of you.”

Your heart thumped.

“There’s no side,” you lied quickly. “That was— That’s just how I talk to you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m serious.”

He cocked his head. “So you’d moan like that if Seungmin gave you a massage?”

You glared. “Seungmin gives serial killer energy.”

“Then what about Hyunjin?”

“Hyunjin cries at perfume ads. I’d never let him near my neck.”

Chan laughed.

You didn’t.

“I’m not teasing you,” he said after a moment. “I just… I don’t know. Feels like we’re finally being real.”

You chewed your bottom lip. “It’s not like I was hiding anything on purpose.”

“I know.”

“I just thought it’d be… weird.”

Chan leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees. “It’s not weird.”

“You’re not freaked out?”

“Nope.”

You hesitated. “So what now?”

He smiled, that slow, cocky, dangerous smile. “Now I get to learn things.”

Your stomach flipped.

“You’re making it sound creepy,” you muttered.

He stood up again. Walked toward you, deliberate this time.

And when he stopped in front of you again, it felt different.

He wasn’t teasing now. He was… curious. Focused. Like you were a puzzle he’d just realized had more pieces.

His hand came up again—back to your neck—but this time, he didn’t wrap it.

He traced.

Knuckles down your throat. Fingertips skimming your collarbone.

You held perfectly still.

“So sensitive here,” he murmured. “And you never said a word.”

“I didn’t think it mattered.”

“It matters now.”

You swallowed. “Why?”

He leaned in. Close. His breath brushed your lips.

“Because now I’m gonna find out what else does it for you.”

Your legs weakened.

Chan reached behind you and gently pushed you back into the nearest couch, standing over you now, looking down like you were a question he wanted to spend the night answering.

He tilted his head. “You like being told what to do?”

You blinked, heart hammering. “Why?”

“Just wondering how deep the brat thing goes.”

“It’s not a brat thing,” you snapped.

That smile again. Sharp. Addictive.

“There she is.”

“Ugh,” you scoffed, sinking back.

“C’mon,” he said softly. “Give me something else. I’ll tell you one of mine.”

You looked at him, wary. “Promise?”

“Swear.”

You exhaled slowly. “I like being touched… slowly. Like… teased. Not rushed.”

Chan’s eyes darkened.

“Oh,” he said. “We’re gonna have fun.”

You blinked. “Your turn.”

He dropped to his knees in front of you. Rested his hands on your knees, just above them.

Then leaned forward and said—

“I like control. But only when someone wants to give it up.”

You froze.

“Like… the second you say stop, I’m out,” he added. “But if you give me the green light…” His thumbs stroked slow, slow circles over your legs. “I’ll ruin you sweet.”

Your breath hitched.

“Too much?” he asked, smiling.

You didn’t answer.

Because truthfully?

You didn’t know if it was.

You weren’t sure what had shifted.

The air, maybe.

Or the weight of his eyes when he looked at you like that—like you were becoming something right in front of him.

But Chan didn’t back down.

He stayed where he was, hands resting on your knees, thumbs rubbing slow, distracted strokes into your skin like his mind was already a step ahead.

“I’ve never really talked to anyone about this stuff,” he said quietly, more to himself than to you. “Not like this.”

You swallowed. “Me neither.”

“I didn’t think I needed to. Thought I had it figured out.”

“And now?”

His eyes met yours again, and there was something deeper in them now. Darker.

“Now I think I’ve been fucking around in the shallow end.”

You stiffened, legs tensing under his grip.

He felt it.

His thumbs stilled.

“That bother you?” he asked softly.

You shook your head before you could stop yourself.

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing like he’d found a loose thread in you. “Then why are your thighs clenched?”

“I don’t know,” you breathed.

“Hmm.”

He moved his hands slightly up your legs, just a few inches, nothing dramatic. But his gaze stayed pinned to yours the whole time.

“Do you like when I talk like that?”

You hesitated.

Chan leaned in, whispering, “Tell the truth.”

Your lips parted, no sound coming out.

He grinned, barely. “Thought so.”

You flushed.

He sat back on his heels, exhaling a little laugh like this whole thing was amusing—and fascinating—and fucking exhilarating.

“I think I like this side of you,” he murmured.

“What side?”

He brought his hand up again, knuckles brushing your neck, then trailing down your collarbone. “The one that can’t sit still when I do this.”

You shivered.

He smiled. “You get quiet when you want something.”

“I’m not quiet.”

“Mm. You’re quieter than usual.”

He leaned in again.

Not touching this time—just watching you breathe.

“You always give this much control without realizing it?”

Your mouth went dry.

“I’m not—” you started.

But he shook his head.

“No, don’t answer. I like watching you try.”

Your stomach dropped straight through the floor.

You were wet.

God, you were already so fucking wet, and he hadn’t even touched you where it mattered. Not once.

He moved one knee forward, bracing his arm on the cushion beside your hips. The shift brought him closer. Too close.

And that’s when you felt it.

Hard. Heavy.

Brushing your inner thigh.

Your breath stilled.

Chan didn’t move.

His lips quirked—just barely.

And that’s when you knew.

He felt it too.

Still, he played innocent.

“Something wrong?”

Your eyes flicked to his, wide. “Are you—?”

“I am,” he said calmly. “You surprised?”

You blinked.

“No.”

“Because you’re hot?”

You exhaled slowly. “Because you’re different.”

That made him pause.

“How?”

“You’ve never… acted like this.”

He hummed, low in his chest. “You’ve never let me.”

You stuttered. “I— I didn’t stop you—”

“No,” he agreed, nodding once. “But you didn’t give me an invitation either.”

You looked down, eyes on the space between your bodies, his arousal pressed right up against you like a secret you weren’t supposed to notice.

And still, you didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Didn’t say a word.

His voice softened. “So now that we’re here… wanna know another thing I’ve never told anyone?”

You nodded without thinking.

Chan’s fingers skimmed your hip, slow and deliberate. “I like watching people fall apart.”

Your lips parted, breath catching.

“But not in a mean way,” he added. “I like the process. The way your body learns to trust me before your brain catches up. I like how shaky your breath gets when I press on the right spot. How your legs tense when you’re trying not to give in.”

He smirked, voice dipping lower.

“I like hearing that little gasp you just made. And I really like how your thighs are squeezing together again.”

You gasped again, this time audible.

He was rock hard now. You could feel him throb slightly against you. A steady pulse through his sweatpants.

And then—God help you—he moved just a little.

A subtle, deliberate shift of his hips.

Just enough to feel how warm you were.

How ready.

Your jaw clenched.

Chan’s eyes flicked down to your mouth.

And that was his breaking point.

Because suddenly his hand was back—on your neck.

Not squeezing. Not dominating.

Feeling.

Like he was trying to understand how something so small could make him so desperate.

“You don’t even know what you’re doing to me,” he murmured, half-lost in it.

You swallowed. “Then show me.”

His eyes snapped back to yours.

Dark.

Ravenous.

But he didn’t kiss you.

Didn’t push further.

Instead, he leaned in—nose brushing yours—and whispered, “Not yet.”

That’s what he said—low, husky, brushing your lips like a secret.

But then his head dipped lower.

And you felt it—his mouth at your cheek first, warm and lingering, then sliding lower still until his lips brushed your jawline… his teeth barely grazing your skin.

You jolted.

He smiled against you.

“Still holding it together?” he murmured, voice thick with amusement.

And then he bit you.

Soft. Right on your cheekbone. Just enough pressure to make you gasp—nothing overwhelming, but so intimate, so damn suggestive, it felt like your body cracked open around it.

A moan slipped past your lips before you could stop it.

High. Desperate.

Sinful.

“Fuck…” you breathed, under your breath.

But he heard it.

God, he heard everything.

His mouth dragged to your ear—barely brushing it—before his tongue flicked once at the shell of it and he whispered, “Say that again.”

Your head tipped back into the couch, fingers digging into the cushion beside you.

He watched you fall apart, kneeling between your knees like you were some holy thing unraveling at his mercy.

And then, without even thinking, it slipped out.

“…Chan.”

His name, like a prayer.

Choked. Shaken.

Raw.

He stilled.

Completely.

You opened your eyes slowly, vision slightly hazy, only to find him staring back at you—eyes wide, chest rising visibly beneath his hoodie.

“Shit,” he muttered, like it hit him all at once.

Like he just realized the weight of what was actually happening.

You blinked, cheeks burning. “What?”

He shook his head once. “Say it again.”

“What?”

“My name.”

You bit your lip, too overwhelmed to even fake control.

And that was it.

That broke him.

Chan’s hands flew to your hips, dragging you down the couch cushion just enough for him to lean over you completely. His mouth caught yours in a kiss so devastatingly hot you forgot your own name.

Teeth clashing. Breath mixing.

Tongues tangling like they’d been waiting years for this.

Your fingers curled into his hoodie, desperate for something to hold onto as he kissed you like a man starving—like he was angry you’d kept this from him, angry you made him wait.

And the way you moaned into his mouth? The soft gasp you let out when his hand slipped beneath your shirt and splayed wide over your waist?

It shattered him.

Chan groaned against your lips, grinding into you once—slow but solid—and the friction was unbearable.

You whimpered, breath hitching, thighs tensing around his hips.

“Jesus, babe,” he growled into your neck, voice cracking with restraint. “You don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”

But you did.

You knew now.

And worse? You loved it.

You tilted your head without thinking, exposing your throat like instinct, and the second his lips found the base of it, the moan you let out was filthy.

Loud. Guttural.

You felt him throb against your core through both your clothes.

And he didn’t even try to hide it.

His hand found your neck again—cradling, not choking. Not yet.

Just holding.

Possessive. Protective. Like it belonged to him.

“You were gonna hide this from me?” he whispered roughly against your skin. “This part of you?”

You whimpered, nails dragging down his back.

Chan laughed. Dark. Breathless.

“Not anymore.”

That was the last thing he said before everything blurred.

Your best friend had kissed you before—on your forehead, your cheek, once at midnight on New Year’s when he was tipsy and too sentimental—but this was different.

This wasn’t affection.

This was possession.

He kissed like he’d earned it—like every time he let you sleep in his bed, every time he pulled you into his chest when you were crying, every time he called you baby under his breath without thinking… was just a slow burn countdown to this moment.

His lips moved against yours like he already knew your rhythm. Like he’d been dreaming of it and now he was tasting it for real.

And when you moaned again? He growled into your mouth.

His hands were wild now, frantic. Pulling at the hem of your shirt, tugging you closer by the hips until you were slotted right against him, heat to heat.

You could feel how hard he was.

And when he shifted his weight and pressed into you deliberately, you gasped—high-pitched and startled.

He tore his lips from yours just long enough to pant, “Fuck. You’re driving me insane.”

“Then do something about it,” you whispered, already breathless.

His eyes flashed.

“Say less.”

His hand slipped beneath the waistband of your sweatpants so fast it made your breath catch—and when his fingers reached your panties, he froze.

Because you were soaked.

Dripping.

His fingers brushed along the fabric—slick and clinging—and then he dragged them lower, curling them against the wet heat right between your legs.

You gasped. Shuddered.

Chan’s head dropped to your shoulder, lips at your ear, groaning deep in his throat. “You’re fucking soaked.”

You whimpered.

His fingers stroked once—just enough to tease—before he yanked your sweatpants down in one go, panties and all.

You squeaked, legs instinctively clamping together, but he was already on his knees again, big hands sliding under your thighs and pulling them apart with a groan.

“Let me see,” he rasped. “Come on, babe, show me how bad you need me.”

You swallowed, chest heaving.

You had never seen him like this—never even imagined him like this.

Hair messy, lips red, hoodie halfway off his shoulder as he pushed himself between your legs like a man starving.

And it wasn’t until he looked up—until those dark, wrecked eyes dragged slowly up your body and met yours—that you realized:

You were gone.

Undone. Open.

And he loved it.

His fingers returned, sliding into your folds with maddening slowness.

You cried out, knees trembling.

He sucked in a breath, watching his hand work between your legs like he couldn’t believe what he was feeling.

“Dripping,” he whispered, almost reverent. “All this for me?”

You bit your lip. “Don’t be cocky.”

He smirked.

And then he curled two fingers inside you in one smooth thrust.

You screamed.

Your hand shot out, grabbing at his wrist, your thighs threatening to close—but he was too strong.

He pressed one hand firmly on your stomach, keeping you grounded while his fingers moved—slow, then fast, then deeper.

“Not cocky,” he panted. “Just maybe obsessed.”

You cried out again, body arching, trying to grind into his palm. Every nerve ending in your body was on fire—and he was eating it up.

“Fuck, look at you,” he groaned. “Melting for me. You gonna come already?”

You shook your head, biting your fist.

He chuckled darkly. “Don’t hold back now, baby. We’ve got years to make up for.”

You moaned louder—desperate.

And then he stopped.

Just like that.

Fingers sliding out, breath ragged.

You blinked at him in shock, your whole body pulsing.

“What—?”

He wiped his fingers on the hem of his hoodie like it was nothing, then leaned forward and whispered against your mouth, “I’m not letting you come with my hand. Not the first time.”

You whimpered, a broken, trembling sound.

He kissed you again, rougher this time.

And then his hands were on his hoodie, yanking it off in one smooth motion, chest glistening with sweat, body hard and flexed as he stood to kick off his sweatpants.

You stared.

You’d seen him shirtless. You’d seen him in boxers during sleepovers. But this?

This was feral.

Ripped, flushed, bulging under tension—and fully hard now, cock bobbing as he leaned back over you, eyes wild with want.

“You ready?” he asked, voice wrecked.

You couldn’t even speak.

Just nodded.

Because the fire had already started, and now?

You wanted to burn.

You were breathless beneath him—bare, dizzy, skin hot and tingling in all the right places. And when he hovered over you now, sweat-slick and wild-eyed, your best friend didn’t look like your best friend anymore.

He looked like a man unraveling. One second away from ruin. Yours.

His hand slid behind your knee, lifting your leg over his hip. “You good?”

You nodded again, swallowing hard.

He smirked, gaze dropping to your lips.

“You sure?” he asked, dragging the blunt head of his cock through your slick folds—slow, teasing, maddening. “You look like you’re in trouble already.”

And something in you—something playful and wicked—snapped.

“Guess we’ll see if you can handle it.”

Chan paused.

Your voice—usually warm, teasing, light—was lower now. Challenging.

Bratty.

His brows lifted. “Oh?”

You shrugged, purposefully lazy beneath him, your leg tightening around his waist. “I mean… you talk a big game, but—” you made a little face, “—you’ve never even kissing me before today.”

Chan blinked slowly.

Then laughed once—dangerous and deep in his chest—before grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head in one swift movement.

“You’re cute when you’re mouthy.”

You gasped, startled, but didn’t stop.

“I’m just saying,” you said sweetly, shifting under him, deliberately dragging your slick heat along his length. “You’ve waited ten years for this. Hope you’re not rusty.”

He stared down at you like you were made of sin and gasoline.

“Oh, baby,” he murmured, lowering his face to yours, lips brushing your cheek. “You want me to wreck you, don’t you?”

You smirked. “I’d like to see you try.”

And that was it.

That was all it took.

He snapped.

His hand came down, wrapping tight around your throat and the next thing you felt was the blunt push of his cock stretching you open in one slow, greedy slide.

You cried out, head falling back, legs trembling from the stretch.

“Fuck—”

“That shut you up quick,” he growled, watching your face as he bottomed out.

You whimpered, fully filled now, completely caged beneath him, and for a moment all you could do was breathe.

You weren’t used to this—this intensity. This power shift.

You weren’t used to being his.

Chan didn’t move right away. He stayed there—deep inside you, hand on your throat, his other still pinning your wrists—just watching.

Then his voice dropped to a whisper. “Say my name.”

You bit your lip, eyes fluttering. “…Chan.”

He pulled out halfway.

“Say it right.”

“Chan—ah, fuck—Chan,” you gasped, back arching.

He snapped his hips forward—hard—and your moan broke into a scream.

“You’re soaked,” he panted. “You’ve been hiding this from me?”

“I didn’t know—” you whimpered, completely undone, “—you’d be like this.”

He smiled against your throat, kissed it once, then bit down lightly on your jaw. “This is what you do to me.”

And when you clenched around him at those words?

He lost it.

His grip tightened—your wrists, your throat, your hips—and he started moving, every thrust thick and deep, sharp enough to send your thoughts scattering into stars.

“Still wanna be a brat?” he growled, pulling out only to slam back in harder.

You whimpered, breath catching. “Yes.”

He chuckled darkly. “Wrong answer.”

He dragged your hands down, pinning them to your chest now as he fucked into you, his entire body a weapon. Every thrust hit somewhere new—some place that made you cry out, curse, beg without knowing you were doing it.

“Look at you,” he said, voice wrecked. “You gonna be good now?”

Your pride screamed no.

But your body—your soaked, trembling, wrecked body—sobbed yes.

You swallowed hard, hips twitching, and whispered up at him with all the strength you had left:

“Make me.”

Chan’s eyes blazed.

“Oh, baby,” he growled, snapping his hips forward again. “I’m gonna make you beg.”

And from the way your legs shook?

You knew he already was.

You didn’t remember when your moans got louder than the thoughts in your head.

Didn’t remember when you stopped trying to talk back and started crying his name like a plea.

But your body remembered. Every inch of it was tuned to his touch now—sweaty, sticky, soaked, and strung out beneath the weight of your best friend losing his damn mind inside you.

He hadn’t stopped moving.

And he hadn’t stopped talking.

“Fuck, you feel like heaven,” he groaned against your skin, hips snapping forward. “Been dreaming about this—about you—for years. You were right in front of me—walking around like that, giving me attitude, pushing my buttons.”

You gasped, fingers dragging down his back. “I wasn’t trying—”

“Bullshit,” he growled, pulling out just enough to thrust back in hard, rocking your entire body against the couch. “You knew what you were doing. You knew I’d snap.”

You choked on a scream, grabbing at his shoulder for balance.

And then, with a glint in his eye, he lifted one of your legs onto the couch arm and pressed forward—deep and low.

You damn near sobbed.

“Fuck, this angle—” he hissed through clenched teeth, “—you’re squeezing me so fucking tight.”

You shivered, mouth open, unable to answer—until a familiar bratty smirk broke onto your lips.

“Still think you’re in control?” you managed, breathless.

Chan stopped moving.

Dead still.

And grinned.

“Oh, baby girl.”

And just like that, he yanked out of you, flipped your body, and shoved your front down into the couch cushions.

His hand was already on your back, pressing you down as he lined up again—and when he slid back in with one long, filthy thrust, your scream was muffled in the fabric.

“Who’s in control now?” he grunted, pounding into you from behind, one hand on your hip, the other wrapped around your neck again—pulling you back, making your spine curve deliciously.

You tried to fight it—tried to sass, to squirm—but every stroke hit your g-spot like he’d mapped your body in his dreams.

And when he growled “look at that arch,” you whimpered.

“I can feel you clenching, baby. You gonna come already?”

You hissed, bratty again through your cries. “You wish—”

So he pulled out, flipped you again.

“Keep testing me,” he breathed, dragging you into his lap, guiding you down onto him so slowly it made your eyes roll back.

He didn’t move.

Just held your hips steady, eyes locked on your face.

“You think you’re the one riding me?” he whispered, almost tender—until his fingers dug into your skin and he thrust up hard.

You screamed, forehead dropping onto his shoulder.

“Oh no, baby. You just get to watch this time.”

He started bouncing you on his cock, fucking up into you, his grip rough, his rhythm feral.

“You gonna be good yet?” he panted, breath hot on your cheek. “Or should I fuck the brat out of you?”

You couldn’t speak. You could barely breathe.

But you nodded.

You were gone.

Gone for him.

He kissed your shoulder, then bit it.

And then?

He moved you again.

He was everywhere—his weight, his mouth, his cock so deep you felt like you’d split in half.

Your cries were high and broken now, your hands slipping against his sweat-slick back as he pounded you into the cushions with intent.

And then his hand went right back to your neck—holding, lifting, claiming you while he fucked the soul out of your body.

“You’re mine,” he panted, hips relentless. “Say it.”

You moaned, arching up into him. “Yours—yours, fuck—Chan—”

He dropped his forehead to yours, eyes wrecked, heart thundering.

“Come for me.”

And this time?

You did.

With a scream that could’ve broken glass.

Your body snapped, back bowing, thighs clenching around him, tears streaking your cheeks as the pleasure tore through you.

Chan didn’t stop.

He groaned, deep and desperate, as your walls clenched and fluttered around him—and then he stilled, cock buried to the hilt, trembling against you.

“Fucking—shit—”

You felt him pulse deep inside you, hot and thick.

And when he finally collapsed on top of you—panting, wrecked, his face buried in your neck—you couldn’t stop the soft, breathless laugh that left you.

“…That’s one way to discuss kinks.”

Chan huffed against your cheek.

“Oh, baby,” he murmured, kissing your jaw sweetly. “You’ve got no idea how bad it’s about to get.”

—-

Your body was buzzing—tender, used, and so completely ruined that you barely noticed when Chan lifted you off the couch like you weighed nothing.

You whimpered at the movement, tucking your face into his neck as he carried you down the hall, both of you still catching your breath.

Neither of you spoke. There was only the soft pat of his feet against the tile, your fluttering heartbeat in your ears, and the low, satisfied hum he made when you clung tighter to his shoulders.

The bathroom light flickered on. Warm. Clean. Familiar.

He didn’t hesitate. Just toed off the last piece of fabric on his body and stepped under the stream with you still in his arms.

The hot water hit your back and you gasped at the contrast—already sensitive, skin electric under every drop.

Chan’s big hands slid over you, soothing, slow. He lathered up a washcloth and began running it gently over your shoulders, your thighs, between your legs with such focus you had to fight the urge to melt all over again.

“You okay?” he asked, quiet against your ear, lips brushing your temple.

You nodded. “…Think you broke me.”

He chuckled, chest rumbling against yours. “Not even close.”

But still, his touch was careful now. Reverent. Like he couldn’t believe you were real.

And maybe that’s why you did it.

Why you let your hands roam a little more than they needed to.

Why you leaned in and started trailing soft kisses down his collarbone.

Why your lips didn’t stop there.

Because you couldn’t believe he was real either.

Not like this. Not yours.

He stilled when your mouth reached his chest.

You kissed it slowly, tenderly, running your fingers down his abs, over the ridges of muscle that flexed beneath your touch.

“…Babe,” he whispered, voice low, warning, already unraveling. “Don’t start.”

You looked up at him through wet lashes, lips parted, innocent and knowing all at once.

“Why not?” you murmured, kissing just below his ribs. “You let me fall apart for you. Let me return the favor.”

His breath hitched. He was already hardening again—and he knew it.

You kissed lower.

And lower.

And then you were kneeling—naked, dripping, your knees cushioned by the shower mat, hands already stroking his length back to full, pulsing attention.

He groaned.

“Fuck. Fuck, you look so good down there—”

You wrapped your fingers around his cock, squeezing gently, lips brushing against the flushed head of his cock. He jerked in your hand, and you hummed.

“I never told you my last kink,” you said sweetly, licking a slow stripe along the underside.

His hand hit the wall above your head, unsteady. “Yeah? What is it, baby?”

You smiled up at him—dark, sinful, soft.

“I don’t have a gag reflex.”

Chan let out a noise—guttural, choked, wrecked.

“Jesus Christ.”

And then you took him in.

All of him.

Slow. Deep. Deliberate.

His mouth fell open, eyes rolling back as you swallowed around him, your throat relaxing on instinct.

“Oh my fucking God—” he rasped, hips jerking forward before he caught himself, panting hard, water cascading down his back.

You pulled off with a wet pop, licking the tip before dragging your tongue along the base and sucking him back in just as deep.

He moaned—loud, shameless, one hand grabbing the back of your head while the other gripped the shower wall like a lifeline.

“Fuck, fuck, baby— you’re gonna kill me—”

You moaned around him in response, eyes half-lidded, hands stroking what your mouth couldn’t reach.

Every sound he made went straight to your core—deep and breathy and so needy, it felt like a reward just to listen.

“You’re unreal,” he groaned. “Fucking unreal—how is this even real—”

You let your eyes flutter closed, increasing the rhythm, hollowing your cheeks, spit and water dripping from your chin as you let him fall apart above you.

And when his stomach clenched—when his thighs started to tremble—you just held him tighter, took him deeper, and moaned his name from the back of your throat.

“Fuck— I’m gonna come—baby, I’m gonna—shit—don’t stop—”

You didn’t.

Not until his hips jerked one final time and you tasted all of him—thick and hot and desperate on your tongue.

He roared your name, damn near sliding down the wall as his whole body seized, then shook.

When he finally opened his eyes again, you were smiling, swallowing, licking your lips like you’d just won.

Chan stared.

Then laughed—ragged, disbelieving, utterly in awe.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he panted, hauling you up into his arms again. “Mark my words.”

You kissed his jaw, cheeky. “Then what a way to go.”

He groaned, forehead against yours.

“We’re not sleeping tonight.”

And you knew he meant it.

—

The water was still warm when Chan reached for a towel and wrapped it around your body, gathering you into him like you were something precious. Like you might disappear if he blinked.

You were trembling a little—not from cold, but from the comedown. The wild pace of everything. The stretch, the heat, the orgasm that had left your legs like jelly. The way he’d held your gaze while wrecking you on the couch like you weren’t his best friend—like you were already his everything.

Now? Now he was silent. Gentle.

A hand on the back of your head, stroking slowly.

“You okay?” he asked, voice raw and deep, brushing his lips to your temple.

You nodded into his chest. “Mhm. Just… processing.”

He smiled faintly, lifting you into his arms again—still naked, still wet—and carried you to his room without another word. The towel stayed wrapped around you, his hands never letting go, like it physically pained him to stop touching you.

He laid you on his bed with careful hands, kissed your forehead, then disappeared for a moment—returning with your hoodie, a fresh pair of his boxers, a warm water bottle, and a glass of juice.

You stared at him, body curling toward his naturally as you laid there—wrapped in soft cotton, legs still aching in the best way. “So… this really happened.”

Chan tilted his head, gaze steady. “Are you regretting it?”

“No,” you whispered, too fast. Then, “Are you?”

His brow furrowed like you’d offended him. “Baby. I’d do it all over again right now if you weren’t already shaky.”

You flushed, heat blooming up your neck. He noticed it. Of course he did. His thumb brushed the side of your throat, reverent.

“Still can’t believe that’s your kink,” he murmured, soft and possessive and wrecked. “You have any idea what that did to me?”

You licked your lips, looking away. “…There’s more.”

Chan’s eyes darkened. “Oh, you’re gonna tell me.”

You tried to hide your smile. “We never talked about sex in ten years and now you wanna hear all my kinks?”

“Now I need to,” he replied, curling his hand behind your neck and pulling you closer again. “You let me touch you like that. Let me own you. You think I can go back to pretending you’re just my best friend after that?”

His mouth was so close. His fingers were back to stroking your skin, down your back, over the dip of your waist.

Your voice came out quieter now. “I’ve never given up control that easily.”

“I know.” He cupped your jaw, kissed the corner of your mouth. “And I’ll never take that for granted.”

You met his eyes. “But I’d do it again.”

His breath stuttered. And then he kissed you—soft this time, lingering.

“You have no idea how hard I’m holding back right now.”

“I can tell,” you whispered, glancing down at the way his towel was starting to shift.

He growled against your skin, pressing his forehead to yours. “This changes everything.”

You nodded slowly. “But it doesn’t ruin anything.”

“No,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “It just means we’ve got… ten years to make up for. And I plan to.”

You smiled. “So… you’re mine now?”

Chan pulled back just enough to lock eyes with you.

“No, baby,” he said with a dangerous smirk. “You’re mine. And I don’t share.”

Your stomach fluttered. You pushed at his chest, bratty. “Mm. You weren’t this cocky when we were just friends.”

He climbed over you again, straddling you on the bed with that wolfish glint in his eye.

“You never let me touch you like this before. Now I know what you sound like when you moan my name?”

He leaned down, voice dark, hungry.

“You have no idea how cocky I’m about to get.”

And just like that, you knew.

You’d opened Pandora’s box.

And Chan had no plans to close it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors note: AAAAAHHHHHHH!!! God this was sooo juicy to write!!!! I am so sorry for my absence guys, theres been so much on my plate… I’ve actually started an original book that i plan to publish some time in the future. 🤭 But I’m here now and ill post more frequently. As for all the requests? I SEE EVERYTHING, I WILL WORK ON THEM!! Just hold on for me babes!

Anyway, if you enjoyed this one, leave me a comment, like and reblog guys!! My taglist is open so let me know if you want to be added or removed!

Taglist: @tsunderelino @innieandsungielover @inlovewithstraykids @reignessance @jeonismm @sttnficrecs @herejusttemporary @krssliu @kenia4 @miilquetoast @thackery-blinks @leeminho-hall @suga-is-bae @butterflydemons @inejghafawifesblog @malunar28replies @minchanlimbo @mal-lunar-28 @breakmeofftbr @itvenorica124 @slut4junho @deepblueocean97 @thequibbie @yaorzu-blog @imagine-all-the-imagines @just-bria @mischievousleeknow @ifyxu @melanctton @thelostprincessofasgard @binniebb @sillylittlecat1 @darkwitchoferie @m-325 @headfirstfortoro @imseungminsgf @ihrtlix @vernorica123 @hwangjoanna @swordswallower2000 @niki007 @yxna-bliss @firelordtsuki @justwonder113 @mbioooo0000 @sammhisphere @nebugalaxy @cutecucumberkimberly @chancloud8 @sunflwerstar @shxdowofdarkness

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red-writer13 · 1 month ago

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Lerie’s Stray Kids Masterlist 🧸

Every work listed here contains SMUT! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (you will be blocked)

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Bang Chan

Friendly fire part 1 | part 2

Movie night extra part 1 | part 2 ft Leeknow

Teachers pet 1 | part 2

Wet ‘n’ wild

No boundaries

Truth or strip 1 | part 2

A bumpy ride

A hot mess 1 | part 2

Wrong movie ticket

Unknown number

Vocal training

Leeknow

Movie night extra part 2 ft. Chan

Bad roomie

The sleepover

The bodyguard

Pretty boy, Asshole 1 | part 2

Wait, aren’t you gay?

Changbin

Sexual healing

Off limits

Just another work trip

Muscle memory

Hyunjin

Love to hate you

Occupied: Do not disturb

I’ll let the world burn

Pinned and pierced

The things we never said

Wrong place, right time

Han

Stolen touches

Rivalry redefined 1 | part 2

Tastes like trouble ft. Seungmin

Traffic jam

Call me noona

Accidental nudes 1 | part 2

Felix

More than friends

Shh! Dont tell anyone…

Across the window

Fashion week secret

Seungmin

Dead batteries

Thin Line

Tastes like trouble ft. Jisung

Kissing 101

Look what you made me do

Lipstick stains & sharp tongues

Jeongin

Follow my lead

Heatwave

Pressure points

Rumor has it…

HEADCANONS

Bff! Straykids in a staring match with you

Enemies with benefits (hyung line)

Bf! Skz and how they fuck you during a fight

Bf! Skz and how they jerk off to you (hyung line)

Bf! Skz and how they jerk off to you (maknae line)

Straykids and their styles of dominance (OT8)

Straykids and their styles of submission (OT8)

How each member falls for their enemy (OT8)

SERIES

Between The Lines (Chan x Hyunjin) BL

Part one Part two Part three Part four

Angry Boys (OT8 Series)

OT8 Masterlist

Enemies To Lovers (OT8 Series)

OT8 Masterlist

Escape (Chan x Reader x Hyunjin)

Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. Part five. Part six

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red-writer13 · 1 month ago

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Wait, Aren’t You Gay?

Bestfriend! Leeknow x Reader

“You crossed a line, He burned the rest”

Tags: Smut, groping, Mutual pining, phone sex, oral (f , m receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talk, fingering, begging, praise, soft dom Minho, tension snapping like a wire, domestic fluff, aftercare, post-sex vulnerability, tit play, friends to lovers

Word count: 8k

Summary: You always thought Minho was gay—so you never held back. Tiny tops, unfiltered stories, late-night cuddles… harmless, right?Until he sees you soaked through one day and finally snaps. And suddenly, your best friend isn’t looking at you like a friend anymore. Until one late-night phone call changed everything. Now you’re at his door—no bra, no excuse—buzzing from the sound of his voice and the filthy things he made you do. He opens the door. He sees you. And just like that, it’s over. The line is crossed.

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You’d known Lee Minho since you were barely old enough to walk without holding onto his shirt.

Back then, he was just that loud kid who shared his snacks and shoved you into mud puddles. Now? He was your best friend. Constant. Loyal. Always down to pick you up when you were drunk or kill spiders or fake-boyfriend you out of awkward situations.

And also—totally not into girls.

At least, that’s what you’d always assumed.

He never talked about hookups. Never ogled girls. Never so much as blinked when you pranced around in your tiny shorts or ranted about your latest sex-related disaster. You figured he was either the most respectful man alive—or playing for a different team.

So you got reckless. Comfortable.

And today?

You were about to find out just how wrong you’d been.

It started with the kitchen sink.

You were washing dishes, half-dancing to your playlist, wearing nothing but those soft cotton shorts and an oversized white tank with no bra underneath. Your wet hair clung to your neck, and you were humming through a verse when the faucet burst—literally—spraying a jet of cold water straight at your chest.

“FUCK—shit, fuck—” You stumbled back, grabbing at the handle, slipping on the tile as water drenched you from neck to stomach.

And that’s when Minho walked in.

“Yo, I got the charger you—”

He froze.

You blinked at him, soaked and panting, hair plastered to your cheeks.

Water trickled down the front of your now see-through top. The fabric clung to every inch of your skin. And your nipples? Standing out like full spotlight, front row through the sheer cotton. You had no idea though, no time to even think about it before he had appeared.

“Oh.” You laughed, awkward. “Um—hi. Broken faucet. Don’t mind the wet t-shirt contest.”

He didn’t answer.

Just stood there.

Eyes glued to your chest, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring like he was trying to hold his breath.

Your smile faded.

“Min?”

His gaze finally snapped to your face.

Too late.

You saw it—the tension. The fire.

The unmistakable flicker of hunger.

And suddenly your stomach flipped.

“…Minho?”

He swallowed hard, voice low. Rough.

“Put something on. Now.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I said—” His eyes dropped again before yanking back up. “Go change. Now. Before I do something really fucking stupid.”

Your heart skipped.

Because that? That didn’t sound like your best friend.

You stood there in wet silence, your soaked top clinging to your skin like a second damn layer, Minho couldn’t meet your eyes.

He turned his back to you—turned his back—and gripped the edge of your countertop like he was grounding himself. His shoulders rose with each breath, tense as hell, like someone trying not to explode.

You’d never seen him like this. Not with you.

“I wasn’t—Min, I didn’t mean—” you stammered, brain short-circuiting. “I didn’t know you were coming over yet.”

His voice was clipped. “You knew the faucet was broken.”

“I didn’t know it was gonna blast me in the tits!”

Silence.

A beat.

Then, quietly—so quietly—you heard it:

“Jesus Christ…”

That’s when something finally clicked.

You looked down at yourself—at the sheer fabric sticking to your breasts, nipples hard, outline of your curves totally exposed. And for the first time in all the years of being this careless around him, you suddenly felt self-conscious.

You reached for a dish towel and held it over your chest.

“…Are you mad at me?” you asked, voice small.

“No,” he said quickly. Too quickly.

You stepped closer.

“Then what’s going on?”

He shook his head, still facing away. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“Try me.”

He let out a breath that sounded more like a growl, and when he finally turned around, you caught it again—that look. Raw, unfiltered restraint. His gaze flicked down to the towel you’d pressed to your chest, then back to your face.

You watched him like he was someone else.

Like the Minho you grew up with had peeled off his skin and left something sharper underneath. His jaw was tight, arms folded, eyes still avoiding yours—but you felt it now. That edge. That static charge that had been humming under the surface for who knows how long.

“I’ll fix the faucet later,” he muttered, stepping past you—carefully. Like you were made of glass. Or fire.

You turned as he moved, towel still clutched to your chest.

“You didn’t answer me,” you said.

“About what?”

“Why you told me to change.”

He stopped at the door.

Didn’t turn around.

For a long second, you thought he wouldn’t say anything at all.

Then, quietly, he replied:

“Because if I’d kept looking at you, I don’t think I would’ve kept my mouth shut.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

And when he walked out of the kitchen, just like that, it was like the whole room shifted.

The air changed.

Everything felt warmer. Tighter. Thinner.

You didn’t move for a while. Not until the cold in your soaked top finally made your skin sting.

⸻

The rest of the day passed weirdly.

Minho didn’t leave, of course. He stayed like he always did, lounging on your couch, bickering over what to order for dinner, side-eyeing you every time you grabbed your phone.

But the energy between you?

Completely different.

He didn’t look at you the way he usually did. Didn’t tease you like normal. Didn’t even touch you when he passed you the remote—just tossed it like it might burn him otherwise.

And you couldn’t stop thinking about his voice in the kitchen.

“I don’t think I would’ve kept my mouth shut.”

Kept it shut about what, exactly?

What he was thinking?

What he wanted to do?

You were still thinking about it when you came out of your room later in a sleep shirt that barely skimmed your thighs. No bra. Nothing underneath. The usual you-in-your-element vibe.

Except… this time?

You caught him looking.

Not accidentally.

Not briefly.

He looked—and kept looking.

From your legs to your hips to the faint hint of nipple under the thin fabric, straight to your face.

Your breath caught.

He didn’t apologize.

He didn’t blink.

He just raised a brow—almost like a dare—and said, “Your sink’s still fucked.”

You nodded, slowly.

“So are you gonna fix it?”

He stood up.

And as he passed by, way too close, his hand brushed the curve of your lower back.

Just a touch.

Too casual to be called a grab. Too deliberate to be innocent.

And then he was gone again, heading into the kitchen.

Like it hadn’t just happened at all.

⸻

He always crashed in your bed. That wasn’t new.

Late movie nights, sleepy arguments, limbs tangled and breathing synced—just best friends, just comfort.

Except tonight?

You felt everything.

His warmth at your back. The heaviness of his arm draped around your waist. The intentional silence of him pretending to be asleep, even though you could feel how tense he was.

You’d turned off the lights twenty minutes ago, but your body was still buzzing. Hyperaware of every inch of skin not covered by your flimsy sleep shirt. Every inch of him pressed against you in the dark.

And you knew—you knew—he hadn’t stopped thinking about earlier.

About how you’d looked dripping wet, nipples hard, shirt transparent and clinging to your curves like a second skin.

You should’ve felt awkward.

But instead, your thighs were clenched.

And then—His hand moved.

Just a little.

At first, it was nothing. A small adjustment. His fingers splayed over your stomach like they were stretching in his sleep. But then his palm drifted higher.

Slow.

Barely grazing the underside of your breast through your shirt.

Your breath caught.

His did too.

Like he just realized what his body was doing.

He didn’t pull away.

Not immediately.

His fingers twitched, tips brushing right beneath the curve of your boob—soft, tentative. Still pretending it was nothing. That he was asleep. That this wasn’t completely out of bounds.

Your chest rose and fell faster now.

He still didn’t speak.

But his hand stayed there.

Hovering. Teasing. The edge of a full touch, like he was testing himself. Or punishing himself.

And you?

You didn’t stop him.

You didn’t even breathe.

You just pressed back into him slightly—so slightly—and felt the undeniable shape of him, hard and restrained against the swell of your ass.

He exhaled shakily behind you.

Shit.

You’d never heard him make a sound like that before. Not around you.

Not around anyone.

You didn’t move for a while.

Didn’t even blink. Not when his fingers hovered beneath your breast, not when you felt his cock pressed firm and restrained against the curve of your ass. You just stayed still—heart hammering, skin burning—like your body was listening for his next move.

But when none came…

You shifted.

Just a little. Barely a breath of movement. Just enough to arch your back, push your chest forward, and guide the soft swell of your breast right into his palm.

His fingers twitched again.

But he didn’t pull away.

He didn’t say your name. Didn’t jerk back in shock or guilt. He just stayed there—completely still behind you, breathing shallow and slow like he was holding onto sleep as a defense.

Your nipples were hard beneath the thin cotton, the heat of his palm sinking through the fabric like an electric brand. It was barely a touch—but it felt filthy. Loaded. More intimate than anything you’d done with someone you were actually sleeping with.

And still, you stayed quiet.

Still.

Sleeping.

His thumb brushed the soft curve below your nipple. Just once. Barely there. Like a reflex.

And this time, his hips shifted too.

The press of him against your ass sharpened—more deliberate now. Less restrained. Like his body had stopped asking for permission and started taking what you weren’t stopping.

His hand tightened—slightly.

He was pretending to be asleep, you realized.

Just like you were.

If either of you acknowledged it, the world would crack open.

So you didn’t.

You just let it happen.

Let his hand cup your breast like it was meant to be there. Let his hips roll forward in the slowest, tiniest grind. Let your legs shift apart just enough that your thighs stopped brushing—and instead, welcomed.

He let out another one of those breaths—low, shaky, wrecked.

You smiled into the pillow.

Still not breathing.

Still “asleep.”

And behind you, your best friend since diapers was losing his last scrap of composure.

—

The morning came too fast.

Sunlight crept through your curtains like it knew what happened. Like it saw every second of that not-a-dream moment where his hand cupped your breast and his hips rolled into yours like it wasn’t the first time he’d imagined it.

He was already in the kitchen when you woke up.

Hair messy, hoodie wrinkled, acting like everything was normal. Like he hadn’t spent the night wrapped around you with his cock pressed to your ass and his hand full of your tit.

You padded out barefoot, keeping your face unreadable.

He handed you a mug. “You were out cold.”

Liar.

You took it, fingers brushing his, watching him too closely.

“So were you.”

A flicker—barely there—but his eyes twitched toward you for a split second. Like he was trying to see if you meant something more.

You let him sit with the tension.

You drank your coffee slow.

“You ever think…” you began softly, “maybe I’ve just been really fucking stupid?”

He looked up from his cereal. “Since when?”

You tilted your head. “Since assuming you weren’t into girls.”

He blinked. Slowly. Carefully.

That… got his attention.

He didn’t smile. Didn’t laugh it off. Just sat there—silent—and then brought the spoon to his mouth like nothing had happened.

But his voice, when he finally answered, was low. Controlled.

“What makes you ask that?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. You never dated any. Never flirted. You never reacted when I walked around like—” you gestured vaguely at yourself—“this. So I figured, you know. Must be the reason.”

Another pause.

His eyes dropped to your thighs.

You were wearing the same sleep shirt.

No bra still.

Of course he noticed.

But he didn’t give you that satisfaction. He set the spoon down and leaned back in the chair, stretching lazily like his body hadn’t betrayed him eight hours ago in your bed.

“Maybe I’m just good at not talking about certain things,” he said.

That hit harder than it should have.

You stared at him.

And for the first time in a long time—you didn’t see your best friend.

You saw a man who’d been holding himself back for years.

You’d never stared at his crotch before.

That was the first red flag.

You weren’t even trying to. Just sitting across from him on the couch while he scrolled through his phone, hoodie riding up slightly, grey sweatpants loose and slung criminally low on his hips. You weren’t supposed to notice the shape beneath. The outline. The fact that you recognized the pressure of it against your ass last night because it had left an imprint on your nervous system.

You blinked away quickly.

Jesus.

You sipped your water like it could douse whatever fire had started in your chest—and your thighs.

He didn’t notice.

Of course he didn’t.

Lee Minho was the king of unreadable faces. That man could watch you strip naked and probably wouldn’t flinch. It was part of the reason you’d always felt safe around him. And the same reason you were losing your mind now.

You needed to know.

If you were wrong. If he’d just been hiding in plain sight. If that touch last night had been a fluke. A dream. Or something darker.

So you tested it.

That evening, while he sat on the floor building a shelf you couldn’t be bothered to finish, you leaned in behind him.

Loose tank top. Braless as usual. Intentional bend.

He turned slightly. Saw your chest from the side—too close, too exposed, one nipple practically peeking through the armhole.

His jaw clenched.

But he said nothing.

Strike one.

You tried again.

Pulled your hair up messily, exposing your neck, your back. Made small, breathy sounds when you stretched. Loud enough to hear. Soft enough to pass as innocent.

Still nothing.

Strike two.

You were practically writhing at this point. Trying to piss him off or fluster him, something.

But Lee Minho stayed quiet.

You weren’t sure what exactly you were trying to prove anymore.

That he wasn’t gay? That he wanted you? That you could still control this friendship even when everything was shifting beneath your feet?

Maybe it was all of it.

But you were already halfway in his lap before you had time to second guess it.

“You’re not good at building shit,” you teased, voice sweet as sugar while you hovered close, brushing imaginary dust from his shoulder. “Lucky I’m cute enough to get away with watching instead of helping.”

He grunted—low, disinterested. But his eyes betrayed him. You saw the flicker—straight to your chest, to the deep dip of cleavage you’d made extra sure he’d notice.

Bingo.

You leaned closer. Pretending to inspect a screw on the shelf. Your tits brushed his upper arm.

He went still.

“You okay there, Min?” you asked softly. Coy.

He cleared his throat. “Don’t start.”

“Start what?”

“This,” he said. He didn’t look at you. “Whatever game you’re playing right now.”

“I’m not playing anything.”

“Yes, you are.”

You tilted your head. “What are you talking about?”

Silence.

Then, quieter: “I’m warning you.”

Oh, that did something to you.

He sounded like he meant it. Like he was afraid of himself more than you. And maybe he should’ve been—because you were reckless now. Hyped up on the taste of your own power, drunk on the image of him with your tit in his hand last night.

You pulled your tank top aside from the arm hole just a little. No bra. Just the soft swell of skin—more than enough to tempt. His eyes snapped to it instantly.

“Go ahead,” you whispered. “Touch me.”

He swallowed.

Didn’t move.

So you took his hand yourself—slowly, deliberately—and pressed it to your breast.

Flesh to palm.

He exhaled sharp. Visibly flinched. But he didn’t pull away.

You arched into his touch.

“You’ve never been curious?” you asked, voice lower now, almost daring. “Never once wondered what they felt like? You’ve known me your whole life, Minho…”

His thumb twitched. Brushed the underside like he didn’t even know he was doing it.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath.

“What?”

“You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”

You smiled faintly.

But then he tightened his grip—just slightly—and your breath caught.

“You think I’ve been ignoring you all these years?” he asked, voice dark now. Steady. Dangerous. “You think I don’t notice when you walk around half naked? You think I don’t see the way your tits bounce when you laugh?”

You froze.

Oh.

Oh shit.

“You think I don’t feel them when you’re sleeping pressed against me?” His thumb brushed up now—barely grazing your nipple. It stiffened instantly. So did you.

“Minho…”

His hand dropped away suddenly, like he was snapping out of it.

“You need to stop,” he said, standing up too fast. “Before you push me too far.”

You stared up at him from the floor, dazed.

For the first time… you realized you might’ve already pushed too far.

—

It was hours later when you finally crawled into bed.

He was already in it—lying on his side, facing away, blanket riding low on his waist and exposing the tight line of muscle up his back.

Your heart was still pounding.

He hadn’t said a single thing after storming out earlier. Not during dinner. Not while you cleaned the mess from the half-finished shelf. Not while you avoided looking at him like he hadn’t cupped your tit like a stress ball.

And now you were lying beside him again, like nothing had changed.

You couldn’t tell if you were relieved or disappointed.

You turned your back to him, the usual position when you shared a bed, but the air felt different tonight. Dense. Stifling.

“Hey,” you whispered in the dark. “Are we… okay?”

His voice came low. Controlled. “You tell me.”

You swallowed. “You seemed… upset earlier.”

“I was,” he said. “I’m not anymore.”

“Oh.”

Silence.

Then, casually:

“You looked at my dick today.”

You choked. “What?! No I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

You rolled onto your back, flustered. “You can’t prove that.”

“I don’t need to. I know your face. I’ve known it since you had baby teeth.”

You blinked at the ceiling. Your face was burning.

He shifted then—closer. The bed dipped behind you. His chest met your back.

And something else pressed against your ass.

Hard. Solid. Undeniable.

You gasped.

His lips brushed your ear. Calm. Evil.

“That’s payback,” he said softly, “for putting your tits in my hand.”

You forgot how to breathe.

He didn’t move.

Neither did you.

The air between you was molten now, and his cock—fuck, that was his cock—was still heavy and pulsing against your ass like he was proud of it.

“Minho…”

“You wanted to know,” he said, voice silk and fire. “You’ve been trying to get a reaction out of me all day. So now you’ve got one.”

You felt him smirk.

“What’s wrong?” he murmured. “Too much?”

You couldn’t answer.

Not when your thighs were squeezing together like they had a mind of their own. Not when your heart was a drum and your skin burned where it touched his.

You didn’t say anything at first.

Just stayed frozen in place, his cock pressed thick and solid against the soft curve of your ass, your entire body vibrating with heat.

Your lips moved before your brain could stop them.

“…Can I touch it?”

Silence.

Not even a breath behind you.

Then— “What?”

You swallowed, your voice weirdly calm now. “I just… I wanna feel it. Like—actually feel it. With my hand.”

A sound escaped his throat. Sharp. Choked.

“You’re kidding.”

You turned around slowly, facing him in the dark. His eyes locked on yours—blown, stunned, like you’d slapped him with a brick made of sin.

You didn’t wait for another answer.

Your eyes dropped straight to his crotch.

And your hand followed.

The blanket shifted just enough as you slipped beneath it, and your palm found him right where he’d pressed up against you before—still just as thick, still painfully hard, straining beneath the soft fabric of his sweatpants.

You cupped him gently.

Minho jerked.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered, face twisting. “What the hell are you doing…”

“Just curious,” you murmured, gaze fixed on the shape of him under your hand. “You’re so… big.”

He groaned, head dropping back into the pillow.

Your fingers squeezed lightly. You were sure you felt him twitch.

“You’ve been like this all night?” you asked, eyes wide.

He hissed through his teeth. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Why not?” you teased, still stroking. “It’s not like I’m doing anything serious.”

“That’s the fucking problem,” he gritted out, hips twitching into your hand.

You explored him like you were learning something new, weighing the heft of him through his pants, tracing the long, thick outline up and down.

He was breathing heavier now. Jaw clenched. Eyes shut.

“You can tell me to stop,” you whispered.

He didn’t.

So you slipped your hand inside.

No warning.

Just fingers beneath the waistband, sliding inside until you were wrapping your hand around bare, hot skin.

Minho choked.

“Fuck—fuck—”

You stroked slowly, palm tight around the base, sliding up to the head and back again. He was massive. Velvet over steel. Already leaking a little at the tip.

He bucked into your hand before he could stop himself, hips twitching under the weight of your touch.

“Is this payback too?” you asked, lips barely moving.

His eyes flew open.

“Keep talking and I’ll fuck your throat instead.”

Your hand froze.

Your heart flipped.

Your thighs clenched so hard it hurt.

But then, you looked up at him. Still holding him. Still stroking him.

His cock twitched in your hand, thick and aching, as you slowly dragged your fingers up the shaft and back down, your touch featherlight—teasing.

Minho’s eyes were glassy now, dark and stormy and wild, like he was barely keeping himself together. His jaw clenched. His chest rose and fell in shallow bursts.

You felt powerful. Dangerous.

So you looked up at him—bold, daring—and said, “So? Still want me to stop?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just blinked at you like he was seeing you for the first time. His voice came hoarse and wrecked.

“Are you crazy?”

You tilted your head. “Maybe.”

“This is—” He swallowed. “We’re—”

“Friends?” you offered, sliding your hand again, slower now. “Childhood besties? Practically siblings?”

He winced. “God, don’t say that.”

You smiled.

And then, without another word, you sat up on your knees and tugged your oversized sleep shirt over your head—bare underneath. Just skin and heat and those same soft breasts he’d felt in his hands earlier.

They bounced slightly as you moved, and the room went still.

His breath hitched. His eyes dropped—dragged—to your chest.

It was the second time he’d seen them that night.

“I’m sure,” you said simply.

Something broke in him.

He sat up so fast the mattress shook, one hand grabbing your wrist, the other threading hard into your hair. He yanked you forward, his mouth crashing into yours with so much heat it knocked the breath from your lungs.

You gasped into the kiss, and he devoured it—biting, claiming, groaning into your mouth like he’d been starving for years.

“This what you wanted?” he growled, lips trailing down your neck, teeth dragging over your collarbone. “You really wanted to see what I’d do?”

You whimpered, nodding, fingers already clawing at the waistband of his sweats.

“Too late to take it back now,” he muttered against your skin, before ducking down and wrapping his lips around your nipple—hard.

Your back arched. His tongue flicked, sucked, bit.

“Minho—”

“I’ve dreamed about these,” he groaned, switching to the other breast, kneading the first one in his palm like he was worshiping it. “You don’t know what the fuck you’ve done to me.”

Your whole body was trembling, his hands now everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding down your back, yanking you flush against his chest as he rutted up into you, his cock still trapped in his sweats, still throbbing.

“Need to feel you,” he rasped. “Need to have you.”

“Then take me,” you breathed. Without even thinking about it.

And for a second, Minho froze.

Not because he didn’t want to—his hands were already sliding lower, gripping your hips with bruising force—but because the way you’d said it… so open, so needy, so real… it shook him.

“Don’t say that unless you mean it,” he whispered, forehead pressing against yours, his voice raw, trembling. “Because if I start, I won’t stop this time.”

Your chest heaved against his, nipples dragging over his skin, and his self-control nearly snapped again right there. You could feel him under you, thick and hot through the fabric of his sweats, the tip pressed right against your soaked panties. One shift of your hips and—

“I’m not asking you to stop,” you whispered back.

He groaned, low and guttural, like the sound had been buried in his chest for years. You kissed him again—slow, deep, your tongues tangling like this wasn’t the first time. Like your bodies already knew the steps.

And maybe they did.

His hand slid between your thighs, pressing the heel of his palm right where you were aching most. Your hips jerked.

“Already soaked,” he rasped, biting down on your lip. “Fuck—have you always been like this around me?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. His fingers dipped beneath your waistband, brushing over your soaked folds through your underwear—just enough to make you moan.

“You’re playing with fire,” he warned, mouth now at your ear, voice shaking. “You keep tempting me like this, and I swear—”

“Then burn me,” you whispered, grinding down on his hand.

He snapped again—grabbing your ass and flipping you onto your back like he’d been holding back all his life. The sudden dominance in his movements made your breath hitch.

Minho hovered over you, both of you half-naked now, tangled in sweatpants and damp underwear and a thousand repressed thoughts.

His hand moved with purpose now, cupping your mound, rubbing slow circles over your clit, lips pressed to your neck.

You whimpered, bucked.

“Don’t tease,” you begged.

He chuckled darkly. “Says the one who’s been waving her tits in my face for years.”

You gasped—half embarrassed, half turned on—and he pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes.

“Tell me to stop,” he said softly. “Or I’m going to ruin your sleep.”

You stared at him, panting. You wanted him. Needed him. But something inside you whispered—not yet. Not like this. Not while everything was still unraveling too fast.

“Not tonight,” you murmured, heart racing.

His expression shifted, softening in a way that made your chest ache.

He nodded slowly. “Okay.”

But his fingers didn’t move right away. He gave you one last teasing brush, slow and aching.

“For the record,” he added, voice like gravel, “this is me trying to behave.”

You giggled, breathless.

“I can tell.”

And then he pulled you into his chest, kissed your forehead, and let the fire between you simmer.

You didn’t have sex that night.

But neither of you slept much, either.

⸻

It had only been three days.

Three days since Minho had slipped out with nothing but a cryptic, “I’ll see you later,” and a soft kiss to your temple. Two days since you’d almost let your best friend finger you into oblivion under the safety of your shared covers. And now he was gone.

Well, not gone-gone. Just back at his apartment. Just out of reach. Just far enough to not risk really doing what your bodies had been begging for.

He hadn’t ghosted. Not exactly. Just a little space, a few texts. “Sorry, been busy.” “Work’s a lot this week.” “I’ll come by soon.”

But soon wasn’t now. And now… was when you were sprawled out on your bed, fingers between your thighs, a familiar silicone toy buzzing softly inside you—desperate to chase that same friction you almost got from him.

It wasn’t the same. Nothing could be. But the thoughts in your head? Those were filthy enough to get the job done.

Your mind kept flashing back to the night before he left: his voice in your ear, his thick cock pressed to your core, the way he’d looked at you like he’d been starving. You whined as your hips rolled, tightening your grip on the toy buried inside you.

Then your phone lit up.

Minho calling.

You froze, heart skipping. Fuck.

You hesitated just long enough for it to ring again—and then answered, trying to level your breath.

“Hey,” you managed, voice just a bit too airy.

“Hey,” he said, voice casual, low. “Were you sleeping?”

“Nope.” You exhaled hard through your nose, the vibrator still inside you, pulsing away like it knew your secrets. “Just… relaxing.”

“Mmm.” His voice dropped, curious. “You sound out of breath.”

You swallowed. Hard. “Tired day. I was just—y’know. Lying down.”

The vibrator kicked up just a notch, and your thighs jerked. He kept talking.

“Sorry I’ve been MIA. Been thinking about you, though.” His voice was warm, familiar. God, his voice. “A lot, actually.”

A sharp breath escaped you. You hoped it sounded natural. It didn’t.

“…You okay?” he asked, his tone shifting just slightly. “You sound—off.”

You could barely think anymore. Your head was buzzing. Your thighs were trembling. And you didn’t dare stop.

“I’m fine,” you rasped.

But then you whimpered. Barely. Just a little hitch in your throat.

He paused. “Wait. Are you—are you doing something?”

Your whole body froze.

“No,” you lied, voice high.

He went quiet. Too quiet.

“…Are you touching yourself right now?” His voice came low, dangerous. “While on the phone with me?”

Silence.

Then, another breathy whimper.

He growled. “Fuck. You are.”

You felt heat shoot up your spine.

“Keep going,” he said, voice gravel now. “Don’t stop. You started this.”

Your hips rolled again—slower this time, more deliberate—as you listened to him breathe, listened to the weight behind his words.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” he demanded. “While you fuck yourself to my voice.”

You bit down on your lower lip, squeezing your eyes shut as his words settled under your skin like molten honey.

“Tell me,” he said again, voice a touch lower, rougher now. “What were you thinking about?”

You whimpered. “You.”

He chuckled. Dark. Breathless.

“Yeah? What about me?”

You hesitated, hips twitching as your toy nudged just right inside you. “The way you felt that night,” you gasped. “The way you pressed into me from behind… the way your cock felt against me, even through the sheets—”

“Fuck.”

His reaction was sharp and immediate, a barely controlled groan through clenched teeth. You knew his hand was probably fisting the sheets or his thigh right now, trying to stop himself from touching the one thing he couldn’t have—yet.

“Are you still touching yourself?” he asked, voice thick.

“…Yes.”

“Good. Faster.”

The single command shot straight to your gut. Your fingers moved in rhythm with the toy now, chasing the heat blooming deep in your belly. You didn’t even care if he heard your wetness or the whines building in your throat anymore.

“Wish I could see you,” he breathed. “Wish I could have my hand over your mouth. You’re too loud, babe. You’d wake the whole damn building if I fucked you right now.”

“Minho—”

“Not yet,” he cut in. “You’ll come when I say so. Not a second sooner.”

You squeezed around the toy, aching, desperate, toes curling.

“Keep going. Just like that.” His voice was pure sin now, molten and slow. “You’ll come with my voice in your ear and my name on your lips, just like you should’ve that night.”

You whimpered.

“Say it,” he demanded. “Say my name.”

“Minho—”

“Louder.”

“Minho.”

“Good girl,” he rasped. “Now come.”

You shattered.

Your back arched off the bed, thighs quaking, moan spilling raw and unfiltered from your lips as your body pulsed around the toy. You didn’t even try to hold it in anymore—he needed to hear it. He deserved to.

Silence stretched on the line after, only your wrecked breathing and the distant rasp of his own breath filling the space between you.

When he finally spoke again, it was with the voice of a man barely holding back his hunger.

“I’m going to ruin you,” he said softly, deadly. “Next time I get my hands on you… I’m not stopping until you forget anyone else ever made you come.”

The call ended.

You blinked at the screen, dazed, thighs still trembling.

But you didn’t sleep.

You changed into the first half-decent outfit you could find, tugged your hoodie over your head, and grabbed your keys with your heart hammering in your throat.

If he wasn’t going to come to you?

You’d damn well go to him.

—

You almost turned around three times. Once at the stoplight. Again when you parked in front of his building. And one last time while standing at his door, staring at the stupid number you’d memorized when you were ten.

You shouldn’t have been here.

But your body didn’t care. Not when it was still buzzing, still throbbing from the orgasm he commanded out of you through the phone not ten minutes ago. Your thighs were sticky, your bottom lip sore from how hard you’d been biting it in the car, nerves coiling in your belly like a wire about to snap.

Showing up like this—unannounced, in shorts that barely passed as clothing, no bra under your thin hoodie—wasn’t just reckless. It was deliberate. Dangerous.

You raised your hand and knocked before you could talk yourself out of it.

Footsteps came quickly. Heavy. The door flew open seconds later, and there he was.

Minho.

Still shirtless.

Sweatpants slung low on his hips. Hair a mess like he’d been pacing. His jaw was tense, chest rising like he hadn’t calmed down since the call ended. His eyes found yours and locked in like he could see through you.

He didn’t say a word.

Just looked at you.

Slow. Hungry. His gaze dragged from your flushed face to the zipper of your hoodie and lower—lingering on your bare thighs.

You shifted, suddenly feeling way too exposed.

“Say something,” you whispered.

His voice came out hoarse.

“You’re insane.”

“I know.”

Another pause. The air between you tightened.

He stepped forward. Just one step—and you backed up, your breath hitching.

“No bra?” he muttered like it hurt him. “You show up like this after what just happened—fuck—”

“I didn’t know what else to do.” You bit your lip, heat crawling up your neck. “I didn’t want to wait.”

That was it.

He snapped.

You didn’t even see him move—just felt the door slam shut behind you as he pushed you up against it, one arm shooting out to lock it without looking. His hands came to either side of your head, bracing himself like he was seconds away from self-destruction.

His breath hit your lips.

Every muscle in his body was coiled tight, like he was holding back something feral.

“Last chance,” he growled. “If you tell me right now you’re not sure, I’ll let you go. I’ll jerk off in the shower until my knees give out and pretend you never begged to come in my ear.”

Your throat tightened.

“I’m sure.”

That was all it took.

His mouth crashed into yours. Hungry. Deep. Unapologetic. It hit you like a wave—his tongue sliding in, his grip tightening, his body pressing flush against yours with an intensity that made your knees buckle.

One hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head, while the other found your waist and gripped—like he was claiming territory.

A moan escaped into his mouth as you clung to his shoulders, pulling him closer, anchoring yourself to the storm that was him.

Minho’s mouth was still glistening with you when he picked you up—one arm under your thighs, the other around your back. He didn’t even blink. Just carried you down the hall like it was nothing, your head pressed to his neck, body boneless from how hard he’d made you come.

His bed was unmade.

Sheets tossed. Pillows scattered. And you were in them seconds later, back hitting the mattress with a bounce.

Minho stood at the edge of the bed and looked at you.

Like he’d waited years for this moment. Like you were a fantasy come to life and he was deciding whether to kneel at your feet or tear you apart.

“You still want this?” he asked, voice low—gravel and smoke.

You didn’t answer. You showed him—legs spreading wider, hips tilting, your hand sliding down to part your slick folds. His eyes darkened.

“Fuck, okay,” he breathed, like he was short-circuiting. “Okay, baby.”

He crawled over you like a shadow, slow and heavy, his mouth finding your jaw first—then your neck, then your collarbone, biting as he went.

“You’ve been mine since we were kids,” he murmured into your skin, tongue flicking over a mark he’d just left. “You just didn’t know it.”

You gasped when his hips rolled against yours, his cock rubbing through your soaked folds, huge and leaking and so hot against your cunt.

“You feel that?” he asked, dragging it up and down—your body arching, chasing it. “You’ve had me like this for years. All those skirts. All that attitude.”

He gripped your jaw, making you look at him.

“You think I didn’t notice the way you got careless around me?”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out—just a broken breath as he lined up, pressing just the tip in.

Your nails dug into his arms.

“Minho—”

“Shh,” he whispered. “I know, baby. I know.”

Then he pushed in.

Slow. Deep. Relentless.

And holy fuck.

Your eyes slammed shut, jaw dropping in a silent scream as he stretched you open. He didn’t stop until he was fully inside—until his hips were flush with yours and your cunt was full.

“Jesus Christ,” he groaned into your neck. “So fucking tight.”

You could barely breathe. Could barely think.

He pulled back just enough to drive back in—and again—again—building a rhythm that knocked the sanity right out of your head.

Minho fucked like he was carving his name into your body.

He was everywhere—teeth on your throat, hands on your tits, hips snapping hard and deep like he needed to ruin you.

And he was talking, too. Filthy. Possessive. All in that growly voice that made your toes curl.

“You gonna let me fill you up, baby?”

“Gonna fuck you so full you feel me for days.”

“You were made for this. For me. For my cock.”

You cried out when he grabbed your thigh and folded you in half, slamming deeper, finding that spot that made your entire body lock up.

“Right there?” he growled, eyes glued to your face. “That’s it, isn’t it? That’s your spot.”

You were sobbing now—wet, broken sounds as your second orgasm raced up your spine.

“Minho, please—I’m—fuck—I’m gonna—”

“Come for me,” he snapped. “Right now. All over my cock. Let me feel it.”

And you did. Harder than before—louder, messier, more intense.

You clenched around him like a vice, and he lost it—groaning loud as he slammed in one final time and spilled inside you, hips jerking, body trembling above yours.

He stayed like that—deep and twitching inside you, sweat dripping down his temple, lips ghosting over yours as you both tried to come down.

You didn’t know how long you laid there—legs trembling, his cum leaking out of you, your fingers tangled in the sheets like you were afraid of floating away.

Minho hadn’t moved much either.

He was still inside you, chest to chest, your noses brushing each time he inhaled. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb stroking softly along your jaw as he watched you with those warm, sleepy eyes—eyes that held none of the fury or possessiveness from before.

Just softness. Almost guilt.

“You okay?” he asked, voice husky but gentler now.

You nodded, but your throat was tight. And when you blinked up at him, he leaned down to kiss the corner of your mouth. Then your nose. Then your temple.

“Did I go too far?” he murmured.

“No,” you whispered, your voice small. “I liked it. I liked all of it.”

That made his lips twitch.

“Yeah?” he said, brushing his knuckles across your tits—lingering when your breath caught. “Even when I told you to shut up and take it?”

You swallowed hard. “Especially then.”

He chuckled under his breath and finally pulled out, making both of you hiss. You whined at the emptiness—at how sore and stretched you felt—and Minho’s gaze immediately dropped between your legs.

“Shit,” he muttered, almost reverent. “Look at that mess.”

You flushed, shifting your legs, but he pressed a hand to your thigh to stop you.

“Don’t hide,” he murmured. “You look so good like this. All ruined because of me.”

Then, to your surprise, he slid down the bed and kissed your inner thigh. Just once. Then again. Then right next to your sensitive center.

You flinched. “Minho—too much—”

He smiled and looked up at you from between your legs.

“Alright, baby,” he said. “I’ll be good.”

And he was.

For about two minutes.

Then he kissed his way up your body—lingering on your nipples, dragging his tongue across them until they stiffened again. You whimpered as he sucked softly, then bit gently—making your hips buck.

“I just wanna taste them,” he murmured. “You kept arching for me earlier like they needed attention.”

“They still do,” you whispered before you could stop yourself.

He smirked. “Then don’t move.”

He licked and sucked until your chest was wet with his spit and your thighs pressed together again—need building back up in the pit of your stomach like a slow flame.

“Fuck,” you mumbled. “You’re gonna break me.”

He pulled back to look at you.

“Not yet,” he said, voice low. “But you did say you liked sucking cock, didn’t you?”

You blinked. “I—yeah—why—?”

He rolled off you and onto his back, cock already hard again—thick and flushed, still glistening from earlier.

“Then get over here.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

You crawled down the bed and straddled his thighs, eyes locked on the way he stroked himself, slow and heavy.

He tapped the tip against your lips. “Open up, baby.”

You did.

And he groaned the moment you took him in—just the head at first, tongue swirling around it, your lips tight and wet. He filled your mouth so easily, and you loved the way he shuddered when you gagged on him.

“That’s it,” he breathed, hand sliding into your hair. “So fucking pretty when you’re drooling on my cock.”

You moaned around him, and he twitched.

“You gonna swallow it all?” he asked, voice breaking a little. “You want me to come in your mouth this time?”

You sucked harder, nodding with tears in your eyes, and that was it.

He cursed—hips jerking, cock thickening—and seconds later he was spilling down your throat, one hand on your head as his other clutched the sheets.

You swallowed everything.

Every drop.

When you finally pulled off, eyes glassy and lips swollen, Minho reached for you and pulled you into his chest, kissing your forehead like he hadn’t just fucked your mouth like a man possessed.

“Now,” he whispered, pulling the blanket over both of you, “lets get some sleep.”

⸻

The morning light slipped in through the blinds in soft gold stripes, painting lazy patterns across the room.

You blinked awake slowly, body aching in the most indulgent way, wrapped in the scent of skin and sweat and fabric softener. The hoodie you had worn here last night was still crumpled somewhere on the floor—probably next to your shorts, your underwear, your dignity.

Minho’s arm was heavy around your waist. His chest was warm against your back. His breath ghosted over your shoulder in quiet puffs, slow and steady.

It didn’t feel real. It felt like one of those fantasies you used to jerk yourself off to in the dark, flushed and breathless, thinking about what it would feel like to fall asleep tangled up in him like this—after.

You stayed still as long as you could, just… absorbing it.

And then, of course, he ruined it by murmuring against your neck, voice still thick with sleep.

“Your thighs are twitching.”

You groaned. “Maybe because you almost broke them last night.”

He chuckled, low and pleased, then slid his hand over your hip and gave your inner thigh a light squeeze. “You came here cause you wanted me to do exactly that.”

Your cheeks flushed instantly. “Don’t remind me.”

“Why not? It’s my favorite memory now.”

You rolled over to face him, hair a mess, eyes still sleep-fogged. He looked unfairly gorgeous in the morning. Hair tousled. Eyes soft. The roughness from last night completely gone, replaced by something almost too gentle to be him.

He looked at you like he was thinking way too hard.

“What?” you asked quietly.

He reached up, brushed some hair from your face, fingers lingering at your jaw.

“You know this isn’t just sex for me, right?”

Your breath caught.

“I mean…” he licked his lips, eyes searching yours. “It can be, if that’s what you want. But I don’t think I can go back to just being your best friend. Not after this.”

You didn’t answer right away. Just stared at him, trying to collect your heart off the floor where it had just dropped.

Finally, you whispered, “I don’t want to go back either.”

Minho exhaled slowly, like he’d been holding that breath all night.

Then he leaned in and kissed you—soft and slow and sweet, like the question was already answered.

You melted into it. Into him. Into the shift.

Later, you’d get up. He’d make coffee. You’d steal one of his shirts. He’d tease you about the bite marks on your thighs. And you’d both pretend not to notice how domestic it already felt.

But for now, you stayed in bed—best friends turned something more—with his arms around you and your future somewhere in the spaces between his kisses.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors note: hi guys! Ok so the poll results from the Leeknow angry boy fic came out and it was a really close one. So instead of changing whats already written i decided to upload this to make it up to you guys! This is not an angst story or the angry boy replacement but this is a story for my romantics ❤️ Thanks alot for all your feedback really love you guys!

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