ara2gr3y

[ara2gr3y]

The Crimson Pact | Part 9

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

SoulBond!AU

Pairings: Yandere!Saja Boys x F!Reader

Synopsis: You were never supposed to remember them.

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

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

And now that you’ve returned?

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

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

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

───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

The Saja boys are all demons.

They are wrath and ruin. Jealousy and death.

And yet, before her, they kneel.

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

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

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

────────── ⚘ ──────────

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

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Part 9:

This Was Always Fate

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re buried.

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

A ring of obsession. A shrine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

────────── ⚘ ──────────

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

Two figures sit in the shadows of gods long buried. 

“You saw her.” It isn’t a question.

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

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

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

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

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

A pause.

“Unlike our friend.” The tone sharpens slightly.

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

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

“She was a hunter.” the second states.

“She was his heart.” 

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

“They tried anyway.”

“His mistake.” the first tutted.

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

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

The second hums, “And the demons?”

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

A low laugh, this time from both.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But not for long.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

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

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

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

"What time is it?" you mumble.

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

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

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

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

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

───────── SMUT ─────────

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

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

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

"So wet for me already, angel?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jesus. Are all of you like this?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then he starts to move.

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

You whimper. "Faster. Please."

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

You nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yours," you breathe.

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

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

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

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

"Seoha—please—I—"

You break.

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

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

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

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

──────── SMUT ENDS ────────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seoha grins devilishly. “Made sure of that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then why are you here?” Seungho mumbles.

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

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

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

“… And I’m the meal?”

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

From Jinu’s shoulder you swear the bird groaned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I really need it—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just you?”

“No. Seoha’s coming too.”

Seoha freezes mid-bite. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hwimori blinks. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

────────── ⚘ ──────────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, lips parted. “Yes please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hard. Huge. Heavy against your core.

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

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

───────── SMUT ─────────

“Haneul… please—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Haneul—! I’m–!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Haneul—I don’t think I can—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not the way Haneul does.

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

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

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

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

──────── SMUT ENDS ────────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

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

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

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[ara2gr3y]

Tested out random brushes

[ara2gr3y]

Triforce of Mischief

Summary: Chain sees that you have a particular tattoo and chaos is the only reaction they have, since language barrier is definitely a thing. Time & Twilight freak out. Wind could have spoken sooner.

1.8k words

Read on Ao3

Since this can also be read as a stand alone story, I didn’t include Hylian, or the dialects of the Chain. If you are interested in that, feel free to visit the main story that can serve as a prequel to this short! (Not edited)

Following your departure from the Ordon Spring alongside the other boys, you journeyed toward the Ordon Village. Most of their conversation still didn’t make much sense to you, but at least you learnt a few words here and there on the way, especially from the Smith and the Sailor. 

The midday weather was brisk, even though the sun shone at its peak. You had a similar attire with your travel companions, a relatively long sleeved tunic that sometimes revealed your wrists if you were to raise your arms. Yours had wider arm-cuts, but felt like they weren’t thick enough for this kind of weather. A slight shiver ran through you, which Link fortunately noticed. He paused and offered you his signature cloak, to which you politely refused multiple times (at least you motioned it somehow). His attempt to offer warmth made the fangirl within you scream in delight, but you kept declining. You blushed slightly and finally accepted even though you knew you weren’t that far from your destination, wrapping yourself in the warmth it provided. 

You thanked the Golden Three that you had been on hikes with him on Mt. Lanayru regularly before your involvement with the other Links; otherwise, you did not think you could survive all this hiking. Thinking about having to climb the ladder to the Rancher’s treehouse already made your legs wobble.

Though you could swear that the Ordon Spring waters calmed your nerves and eased your inner storm for a little bit. 

Luckily, you were almost there. The wooden arch that said… something in Hylian (probably ORDON?) took your attention. Oh you were so excited…

[And that’s me,] the Rancher spoke as he pointed towards his treehouse. This was really like the game, nestled in a secluded corner near the entrance of the village. You didn’t understand a word he said, but you could see near the tree there was a brown mare simply grazing around. 

And what a sight she was. You couldn’t help yourself as you whispered “Epona…?” to yourself and walked towards her as if you were in a trance. 

Of course, you didn’t notice the Old Man raising his eyebrow or the Rancher also hearing you. You stopped in your tracks, then watched the Rancher go towards the horse instead, petting it and saying something to it. He made eye contact with you as he was caressing her nose, and motioned you to come over, you guessed. 

“May I?” you asked, and even though the language barrier was still present, the Rancher gave a warm, friendly nod. As you approached Epona, her deep, soulful eyes locked onto yours, and it felt as if she understood the reverence in your gaze. With a gentle, careful touch, you began to run your hand along her sleek, chestnut mane, marveling at the silky texture beneath your fingers.

[Epona] he said, as he gave an apple to her. You just smiled, pretending to hear it for the first time and repeated her name. 

Epona seemed to appreciate the affection, and she leaned into your touch, her powerful frame radiating warmth and serenity. 

As you continued to pet Epona, your sleeves slipped down to your wrists, revealing a set of three small triangles on your skin. The right one was filled in with black. The Rancher and the Old Man both noticed this mark, and although they didn't say anything, they exchanged knowing glances.

When everybody finally settled in Twilight’s cabin, he lit the fireplace. His cabin had an air of rustic charm, filled with a cozy warmth that welcomed all who entered. The walls were made of weathered wood, lending the space a natural, earthy ambiance. The cabin had lanterns that hung from sturdy wooden beams overhead, which you imagined would cast quite the gentle radiance, once lit. 

The Chain kept talking between each other, though you didn’t understand much. Wind was all the way up, lost in his world. For some reason, really interested in Rancher's books.

You took off the cape Wild lent you and gave it back to him, since it started getting quite warm inside. You already had another layer under your long sleeved tunic, so you took the upper layer off as well, now sitting with the others (you secured yourself a chair at least) in a short sleeved shirt. Time and Twilight were still casting glances at you.

“What?” you stretched as you pointed the pointless question towards them. Not that it would change anything…You saw that Sky also managed to get a chair, and he was already kind of looking like he was about to doze off. Maybe you should have followed suit…

[Champion, you are sure Y/N does not have anything to do with the Hero’s Spirit or any sages?] Time asked Wild. He seemed quite perplexed by the question. 

[Or is she part of the royal family perhaps?] Twilight continued.

[Uh, no? Why?] Wild replied.

You just closed your eyes as you listened to them speak. It felt like listening to an audiobook in a language you didn’t understand, as a sleeping aid. Though you had a strange feeling that they were talking about you.

Legend and Hyrule were definitely listening in, though the former pretended as if he couldn’t care less, even though his ears definitely perked up at the mention of the royal family. 

[You mean the mark on her wrist?] Sky chimed in instead, to your surprise. The others seemed surprised that he was way more perceptive than he looked.

[What mark?] Four asked and then Time & Twilight explained the mark they have seen on your wrist.

The volume of the chatter was increasing, slightly annoying you. Wild gently poked your shoulder to see if you were awake, and you opened your eyes. There was no way you could sleep in this noisy environment.

He pointed at your left wrist, gently touching your arm after checking in with you, and motioning you to raise it. The whole room was staring at your Triforce of Courage ink now. 

Oh, right…

“Guys, it’s just a tattoo,” you tried to explain to no avail. 

It is hard to explain things when people literally don’t understand a word you say.

You could see Time & Twilight & Legend & Warriors and Sky comparing their faded Triforce marks on their hands, and Wild & Four looking confused about the whole thing. 

[I mean, I did say I sense some residual magic on her, but that’s definitely not what I was sensing,] Hyrule was saying as he glanced at your tattoo. 

[Members of the royal family don’t randomly get the mark of Triforce on their wrists, not unless they are Zelda at least,] Legend scoffed. Wind seemed to be not paying attention, still busy with Twilight's books upstairs for some reason.

[Well this is certainly odd, I never thought much about the mark, though we had other matters to attend to… But… What is Triforce?] Wild kept questioning, though he seemed to have forgotten that he was still touching your shoulder from the side. You sighed. It was fun at first, but now it was getting quite boring that you didn’t understand anything. Though it wasn’t that hard to guess…

[Yeah I was about to ask the same thing… I just thought that’s the symbol of the royal family or something?] Four added, making the rest of the group look at them in disbelief. Sky seemed especially distraught. 

The bickering continued for a while, and you kept thinking about how to explain this to them. Weren’t these people familiar with the concept of a tattoo? Of course, why you had something like that was another matter, but excuse you for wanting to get a Zelda-themed tattoo and considering the fact that you might end up in Hyrule?

Hmmm, what if I just show them something similar instead, to try to explain?

You sighed, stood up and walked towards Time and Twilight, while the group's curious glances still loomed over you. Right, these two already had some markings that were like tattoos, so you thought it would at least be a good parallel. 

Right after you pointed at your tattoo, you pointed towards the Rancher's face first, specifically to his markings. He had a confused look on his face, which quickly became an expression of horror, which seemed to have spread to some others in the group.

Wait…

[Farore above…]

What in Hylia's name was going on? That sounded grim, along with some others.

Next, you moved to Time, who was already sitting next to him. You mumbled a quick "Sorry…" for invading his personal space as you blushed, hoping he didn't mind. He was as stoic as one could get, you hoped he wouldn't somehow grab your wrist or something. 

You also pointed (almost touched, really) to his marks on his face, before you pulled back and pointed towards your tattoo again. 

"It's just a tattoo, why do you all look so judgemental suddenly?" You almost screamed in protest. You tried to make the motion of drawing the shape by yourself. Even tried pretending as if you have a nail and a hammer, and as if you are drawing on a skin.

I don't think tattoo pens exist here…

Time's eyes widened. The atmosphere in the room was even worse.

[How…?!] he said in shock.

You realized a little bit too late that it wasn't the smartest decision to point at his Wolf markings and Time's Fierce Deity Mask markings and then to yourself.

Because Twilight and Time kept speaking with each other, with Legend and Hyrule chiming in, the others watching you suddenly with suspicion, with Wild going between you and the others almost in a defensive stance. It was getting heated. Oh Gods…

Meanwhile, the Sailor finally decided to come down with a huge grin on his face, earning even more scornful looks from the others. 

Then he started laughing. 

Little rascal.

He knew.

He knew yet he did not step in until the last minute, pretending to browse the books and maps up there instead. 

You sighed almost in relief as you watched him try to explain things to others. At least, you assumed. 

It was quite clear that these were the heroes who held the Triforce of Courage, and not Wisdom. 

How could anybody not think of tattoos and just jump to the worst conclusions instead?!

But you were sure, the Sailor was especially deserving of the Triforce of Courage, since he dared to wait until the last moment instead of coming clean right away.

____________________________

It was only months later you found out what was said, and that there was an agreement to never ever mention the incident again. 

"I knew what it was right away," Wind smirked at you, after he explained what happened on that day. "We have a few people in the crew with some sick ink!"

Sure, you understood that there was some residual magic they sensed on you.

But… Was it really your fault that they immediately thought you could both be associated with twilight magic and Fierce Deity at the same time? Come on, even for this universe, it sounded cuccos. 

"Having that symbol tattooed is quite a choice though," Four gave you side eyes. 

You just shrugged.

Wind could have interfered earlier.

Little shit. If it existed, he would have gotten the Triforce of Mischief instead.

Back to Masterlist / Back to the Power of Understanding

[ara2gr3y]

Masterlist!! (Mobile friendly)

These are in a timeline! I heavily recommend reading them in order. From The Hobbit to LOTR (Harry Potter stuff is probs going to be below my Tolkien stuff!

The Hobbit

Imagine Y/N being there when Thorin cuts off Azog’s hand in battle.

Incorrect quotes #3

Imagine Y/N being sent from the dungeons with Thorin to talk to Thranduil

Imagine Bard showing Y/N the black arrow.

Imagine hiding in the throne room when Legolas and Thranduil interrogate the orc.

Imagine breaking the dwarves out of the dungeons of the woodland realm.

Imagine Y/N being there when Tauriel saves Kili. (Not cannon to the Pethryn au)

LOTR

Imagine the reactions of the fellowship when Y/N took the blade for Frodo on Weathertop (Amon Sûl)

Imagine arriving in Rivendell with the fellowship.

Imagine Y/N sitting at the council of Rivendell with Legolas.

Imagine Y/N sassing Boromir at the council of Rivendell (Incorrect quotes #1

Imagine Legolas and Aragorn teasing you at the council of Rivendell (Incorrect quotes #2)

Imagine Y/N sitting at the council of Rivendell while everyone is arguing.

Imagine leaving Rivendell with the Company of the ring

Imagine Y/N giving the answer to the riddle at the doors of Moria.

Imagine Y/N being there when Gandalf gets captured by the Balrog in the mines of Moria

Imagine entering the woods of Lothlórien with the Company of the Ring.

Imagine arriving at Dunharrow with Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli.

Imagine riding with Mithrandir to fight off the Nazgul and escort Faramir back to Minas Tirith.

Harry Potter (Golden Era)

Draco

Imagine Showing up in Third year of the Golden Trio Era (set up for later imagines)

Imagine showing up at the Dursley’s house to pick up Harry(Pethryn au)

Imagine Being on the train with the golden trio and Remus Lupin. (Pethryn au)

Imagine Draco secretly wanting Y/N

Marauder Era

Sirius

Imagine comforting Sirius (X reader drabble)

James

Real or not real? (series James Potter X reader)

F1

Max Verstappen

I’m always funny, you’re just not smart enough to keep up. (teaser)

Task Force 141

Ghost, Johnny, Price and Kyle

Just a little turned around

Camera Guy! Reader series. (First piece)

Death Angel! Reader

Twilight

Evenfall (Edward Cullen X reader and Jacob Black X reader) Series

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Kpop Demon Hunters

Imagine reader iskei’d into KPDH?!

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

[ara2gr3y]

Your Idol

Saja Boys x Idol! Reader

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summary - you were a part of the failing girl group, Harmoness. Despite being disliked by both the staff and your members, you somehow managed to capture the eyes (and hearts) of five hot demon idols.

warning - fem reader, light bullying, body shaming, pushover reader (gets character development later on), doesn't follow the movie timeline that well

w/c - 2.3K

a/n - this is my first post/work on here so sorry if it's a bit bad. pls correct me if there are any mistakes, comments, reblogs and likes are much appreciated, hope you enjoy!

────────────────────────────

The recent surge of popularity with the Saja Boys left your manager more distressed than ever.

At the start of your idol life your group, Harmoness, had actually been quite popular. Seeing your popularity at the time, Manager Hojin was convinced you were going to make it big and ended up spending way too much money on overused concepts and expensive music videos.

However, once he saw the numbers drop he had to find someone to blame. It ended up being you, seeing as you were the least popular member of the group. Not by a wide margin, but enough to make the manager take notice and choose to believe that you were the issue here.

From then on life had been nothing but endless dance practices for your "sloppy dancing", hours of vocal training for your "croaky voice" and a strict diet for your "overweight body".

Your fellow idol members had been just as critical, believing that they were already perfect and that you were holding them back. You felt isolated within your group.

You were known as the "sunshine" of the group. The girl whose smile never faltered, who always had the most energy and stage presence. But because of the constant criticism and strict diet, you began to lose your confidence and energy, something that your fans loved the most about you, making your popularity decrease further. You were still happy and energetic, but it was hard to keep it up all the time when everyone around you seemed like an enemy.

Although, despite all the suffering you've endured as an idol, you still loved it. Performing had been a struggle as you often went on stage hungry, but seeing thousands of fans so happy to see you, watching their eyes sparkle at you. It was so amusing how high they'd scream if you waved at them. To be needed and wanted by so many, it was a thrilling feeling. Your manager and the other members may not see your worth, but you know they did. The job is hard but if it means making them smile, you’d gladly work even harder. They deserved it. 

The new group, Saja Boys, had been a real hit ever since their debut song "Soda Pop" went viral. You couldn't help dancing along to it whenever you had the chance, it was too catchy not to. When Hojin caught you listening to them, he screamed at you. Belittled you in front of everyone. Accusing you of purposely putting the group down and siding with other idol groups for fun.

You remember how confused you felt that day. 

Why is he acting like this is a competition? That we're meant to only side with our groups. Is it wrong to want to support your junior idols? Hojin heavily disapproved of the idea, and it had only made him angrier. 

He began to insult you in more ways, even as you tried to calm him down, knowing that everyone was staring at you. The shame and embarrassment you felt that day left such a mark on you that you could no longer listen Soda Pop, even outside the company building. Every time you tried to, it only brought back the bad memory. 

─────────────

"Good work today girls, I'll see you again tomorrow”.

Your knees almost buckled at the sweet sound of freedom. After several gruelling hours of training, you were finally done. The Idol Awards were coming up and Harmoness's newest song "Bringing Myself Up" was planning to debut.

Whilst taking a sip of your water you overheard your fellow members talking and giggling about something. Eun-jin and Soo-ah were latching onto Jina, fawning over her.

Jina Jeong was the leader of Harmoness, and the most popular member. As the lead vocalist, she often worked besides you, which often made you sound like a dying bird compared to her. She was one of the lead competitors on an idol show, but lost. In the end, she was offered a place here, so things worked out for her. You couldn't help but envy her in every way, aside from her big ego she was perfect. 

Eun-jin, also known as SKY, was a rapper like Soo-ah, and the second eldest. She was known as the “tomboy” of the group and was the harshest when it came to insulting you. 

And finally the maknae of the group, Soo-ah. She had a sweet, innocent-looking face that often resembled a mouse. But in truth, she was a brat. On stage she would treat everyone so kindly and with so much respect, but when she was off the stage she was horrible. Never listening to the makeup artist's instructions, or showing up to practice on time. You saw how she treated service workers as lesser beings than her, and you found it horrible. 

It never used to be like this though, they were all so kind at the start of the group's debut. But things changed once a bit of fame got to their heads. Although, you knew deep down inside that there is some good in them, even if they didn't always show it. 

"You’re so lucky you get to meet Jinu, he's my bias".

This caught your attention. Despite the incident you still absolutely loved the Saja Boys, knowing almost everything about each member and collecting as much merch as your wallet could handle.

The mere mention of them made you bubble with excitement.

You put your bottle down and turned towards your members. Even though you didn't have a good relationship with them, you always made an effort to try. Completely cutting them off wasn't going to help mend things, but trying might!

Plus, deep down, you secretly believed that it truly was your fault that the group had been doing so bad. You always did your best to stay positive but it wasn't always easy when everyone keeps telling you it's your fault. Also, it was a potential bonding moment with them. You felt as though you could finally set aside some of your differences and become friends. 

"Hey girls, what's going on? What are you talking about?" You said casually, hoping to break the very thick layer of ice between you and them. They look at you, their faces shift from glowy excitement to pure disgust. It was obvious they were already bored of you, but you continued. Needing answers.

"I couldn’t help but overhear you talking about the Saja Boys. Are you guys fans too?" Your smile never came down despite the eye roll you got from Soo-ah.

"Was I mistaken? It's just I heard you talking about meeting Jinu and I was thinking Jinu from the Saja Boys, but maybe it's a different Jinu that I don't know, sorry if I was mistaken" you ramble, hands going everywhere in an embarrassingly panicky way. 

Eun-jin moves her head closer to the centre of the group, all whilst maintaining eye contact with you, and whispers "Why is she listening to our conversations like a creep?"

The group began to burst out laughing whilst you stood there, head down in shame. 

Were you really that creepy to them?

Jina stopped her stream of laughter, and the others followed suit. "If you must know, tomorrow the Saja Boys are coming here. I've been chosen to give them a tour of the place," she says nonchalantly, although you could see the joy twisted in her eyes. 

"Yeah, since the Saja Boys aren't actually under any label at the moment, the company wants them here" Soo-ah chimes. 

You couldn't help the wide smile breaching your skin, the Saja Boys coming here? Where you could meet them? Talk to them? 

If they joined the company, you'd be able to see them almost every single day. Different scenarios began to pop up in your mind. 

You could imagine Jinu flashing his signature smile at you.

Getting close enough to Mystery where you could hopefully see past the layers of hair covering his eyes.

Romance putting his arms around you whilst talking to you.

Abby letting you take a closer look at his abs.

And Baby letting you pet the soft hair on his head. 

You blushed, now is definitely not the time to be thinking weird thoughts! 

Jina was so lucky she got to not only see them, but even give them a tour. You assumed the manager no longer saw them as an enemy but as a potential ally. The thought made you giddy inside, imagining them as your juniors. Although referring to them as your juniors sounded a bit odd considering they were older than you. 

"So what time are they coming over? I'd love to meet them". 

"The manager doesn't want you seeing them".

On the outside nothing changed, but inside you felt your heart break. 

"Yeah, he says you'd just get in the way, you know, make the company look bad... like usual".

You couldn't even focus on who was talking, all the sounds muffled together. You knew that once Hojin made up his mind, he wasn't going to change it. You just had to accept that you may never meet the Saja Boys. 

Looking up with a pained smile, you forced out "It's alright. I hope you have fun though Jina, you deserve it”, mostly in envy. Jina was the member you looked up to the most. She was so good at everything. Her vocals were heavenly, and she was a fast learner when it came to dancing. It was like she was born to be an idol. 

Before you could embarrass yourself any more you ran off quickly, taking your bag with you, but not before hearing the burning sound of laughter from the girls. Most likely mocking you for your attempt at connection.

─────────────

The next day you walked into the company building, holding a large gift bag. 

After spending the night weighing the pros and cons of meeting the Saja Boys, it was obvious what should be done. 

There were actually a lot more cons than pros, but meeting the Saja Boys was just that important it outweighed all the others.

If Hojin found you talking to them he'd get really mad, but honestly, when wasn't he? 

Since you didn't know when the Saja Boys would be coming you decided to come early in the morning. You had prepared special gifts for each of the members, some things were handmade, and the others were stuff you knew they liked. Considering the lack of time you hoped it turned out well. 

On your way to the cafeteria you spotted Hojin, and you quickly hid the gift bag behind your back once you saw him approach you in frustration. "(Y/N) didn't the others tell you the Saja Boys were coming today? If they see you, it'll mess things up".

You weren't sure how meeting them was going to "mess things up" but you didn't question it. Most likely would lead to another lecture. 

"I know that Manager, I just came to get some practice for the Idol Awards," you said extra sweetly, hoping he'd let you off. It wasn't necessarily a lie, you were going to practice after eating breakfast. But the main reason you came was of course to try and see the Saja Boys. 

"Good, Lord knows you need it. Why are your movements so sloppy? Come, I'll take you to the dance studio so you don't wander off”.

"Oh I was actually going to get breakfast, I haven't had any yet. But I'll make sure to be quick".

"You can afford to skip a few meals, now come on" he commands, grabbing your wrist tightly and dragging you to the locker room. Being an idol meant being so busy you would be forced to skip breakfast a couple of times, but you had gotten so distracted preparing the gifts last night you forgot to eat dinner. You were starving and dance practice wasn't going to help. 

Although you doubt Hojin would care.  The only thing that you could do now was wait for lunch. 

─────────────

Unfortunately, you lost that chance once you realized that he had locked you in the studio. You weren't sure if it was done on purpose or not but one thing was for sure, you were starving. 

Three hours into practice you wanted to refill your water bottle, only to realize you couldn't open the door. You tried to look for your phone when you remembered you left it in your locker. At the time you weren't all that worried, you were sure someone would come and unlock the door for you. 

But minutes became hours and panic started to settle in. You started to bang on the door, praying someone would hear you and come to help. Unfortunately due to the dance studio being in an isolated area of the building, it was unlikely unless Hojin came back for you. 

Your body felt like it was shutting down. Black spots started to cloud your vision. Your head ached in pain and numbness. There really was no chance you'd see the Saja Boys now. Who knows what time it is. 

From the distance, you could hear the sounds of muffled chatter and you shot up from your place on the ground. You rushed to the door, banging on it as loud as you could and calling out for help. Your head felt heavier and heavier and your vision started to fade rapidly. 

Hearing movement from the door you backed away slowly, and upon seeing a man's chest you fell forward, passing out in the stranger's warm arms. 

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edit - I'm so happy so many people like this :D

a lot of people have been asking to be tagged in the next chapter, if you also want to be tagged just comment below and ask to be tagged and I'll add you to the list!

────────────────────────────

[ara2gr3y]

The Crimson Pact | Part 1

Parts: Characterizations | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

SoulBond!AU

Pairings: Yandere!Saja Boys x F!Reader Synopsis: You were never supposed to remember them.

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

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

And now that you’ve returned?

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

Warnings: Soul bond with the Saja Boys, Yandere themes!, soulbonding without full consent, obsessive behavior / possessiveness, mild stalking, romantic psychological tension, mentions of implied past death / reincarnation, intense emotional fixation, yearning, non-graphic threats of harm from a third party (Gwi Ma).

Author's notes: Hey guys! My first fic on Tumblr. I've been deep in a hole for Saja boys x Reader fics and have been inspired by all the ones currently out. Thought I'd give it a go and make my own. This is also just me purely projecting my fantasies (lol). But will post more on this story and will make more parts!

───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

The Saja boys are all demons.

They are wrath and ruin. Jealousy and death.

And yet, before her, they kneel.

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

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

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

────────── ⚘ ──────────

A Sudden Encounter

You’re just… tired.

You work long shifts at a cramped little gallery café in Hongdae. Your boss forgets to pay you on time. Rent’s due. Your roommate’s a ghost (figuratively). Your family doesn’t call.

It’s not tragic. Just quietly heavy. Most days are filled with the same mundane routine. The stress of adulting weighs in on you most nights making you feel more fatigued than you should.

Your art is the only thing that feels like yours—until it doesn’t. Lately, even your sketches look like someone else’s memories. The past few weeks of downtime have been spent sketching images you vaguely recognize from dreams you forgot you even had. 

You walk through life like it’s background noise.

Then, one afternoon, on the way to grab milk and instant ramen…you hear music on the street.

Lugging your grocery trolley (because god knows you don’t have the strength to carry a week’s worth of grocery bags on your arms), you spot that a crowd has gathered in the plaza. The atmosphere buzzes with excitement. People are pushing each other to get a view of whatever it was that was making the crowd go nuts. Curiosity gets the best of you, and next thing you know you’re walking towards the center of the square. Grocery trolley rolling behind you. Someone steps on it, warranting a quick “Sorry” and they scurry to the front. You turn your head forward to see whatever it was they desperately wanted to see.

You stop.

Up on a raised platform, five boys move like a single body—synchronized, supernatural, magnetic. Their colorful outfits shimmer under the lights, a kaleidoscope of sugar-rush perfection. The crowd is screaming, but all you hear is the song—“Soda Pop”—sickeningly sweet and pulsing like thunder in your chest.

You don’t recognize them.

Were they new? A secret debut? A niche group you missed? 

And then you see them.

The Saja Boys. Five gorgeous faces, carved out of dreams and danger, singing like they already know you.

Your heart stutters.

Front and center is the one with the jet-black hair and fire behind his smile. His eyes sweep the crowd like he owns it—until they lock on you. And then it’s like the world tips sideways.

You can’t breathe.

Something ancient uncoils in your ribcage—a thread pulling taut, like it’s found its anchor.

The stage beneath them morphs—no, rises—into a giant soda can, and the absurdity nearly makes you laugh, but the pressure in your chest is louder.

The song ends. The crowd erupts. They strike their final poses like gods frozen mid-conquest. And still—he’s looking at you. Right at you.

He lifts a hand, brushes off his shoulder like he’s dusting you into place. “That’s it for now,” he says to the crowd.

His speaking voice slides down your spine like silk dipped in fire. Familiar. Impossible.

“See you tonight on everyone’s favorite variety show…” His gaze doesn’t waver.  “Saja Boys love you!”

You don’t know how you’re still standing. The other members turn too—one by one, their expressions shifting. Eyes no longer playful. They’re looking at you like they remember something you haven’t yet.

And then—pink smoke.

They vanish.

You’re left in a sea of people, lungs hollow, skin prickling like it’s just been marked.

You don’t know who they are. You don’t know what just happened. But your hands are shaking on the trolley handle. And you’re sprinting home like something inside you just woke up and started screaming.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

They apparated back into the apartment in a burst of cold smoke.

Jinu collapsed first.

Not into a chair. Not onto the couch. He sank straight to the floor.

Hands tangled in his hair, breath shallow. Like the air couldn’t reach deep enough. Like he’d been holding it for centuries. His voice cracked like something ancient being unearthed.

“It’s her.”

Romance was already pacing the length of the living room, long strides restless, fingers tugging at his shirt collar like it was choking him. “I—I thought I was hallucinating,” he muttered. “Some kind of cruel glamour. A mirage. But the bond—” His voice shook. “The bond snapped tight.”

Abby dropped into the couch, the cushions barely softening the weight of his frame. His knuckles were white, gripping his thighs. “I felt her heartbeat.” He looked up, dazed. Wild. “During the bridge—our hearts matched. I know it was her.”

Mystery hadn’t moved. He stood near the window, face shadowed, fists clenched so tight his nails carved into skin. His lips were moving in a near-silent whisper—over and over like a broken prayer.

“She’s scared… she doesn’t remember… but she felt it. She felt it.”

Baby sat furthest from them all, on the floor beside the armchair.  Blood dripped from his palm—he didn’t seem to notice. Eyes wide. Hollow. Haunted.

Like seeing you broke the silence inside him. Like he’d finally found the ghost that’d been crawling under his skin for lifetimes.

No one breathed. The room felt cracked. Like a single touch would shatter it.

Abby ran a hand down his face. “What do we do?” He was still staring at his hands. Still disbelieving. “Is this a trick? Is Gwi Ma playing with us again? Using her face to haunt us?”

Jinu looked up slowly, lashes damp, lips pale. He bit the nail of his thumb, the taste of anxiety sharp on his tongue.

“We wait,” he said softly. “We plan.”

Romance scoffed, but there was no humor in it. He was trembling as he smiled.

“We charm.”

Mystery let out a low snarl. “We go to her. She’s alone. She’s hurting. I can feel her.”

And then—finally—Baby spoke. Just one line.

Quiet. Final. Unshakable.

“We take her back.”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

You curl up on your couch with a microwaved dinner, phone propped up on a cushion. You don’t normally watch idol shows. But…

You press play.

They’re charming. Playful. Competitive. Too beautiful. Too perfect. You watch them struggle with the hot sauce challenge, lips curling upwards at some of the boys’ faces. 

Your chest aches.

You don’t know them. But you can’t look away.

When they joke, you laugh. When they flirt with the camera, your stomach flips. When Baby stares dead into the lens, you freeze. 

You watch as Baby wins the spicy challenge, somehow a part of you knew he would. You couldn’t explain why. You watch as Huntrix makes a surprise appearance. You weren’t a crazed fanatic or anything, but you did enjoy their music. When they bowed at each other, a part of your chest ached. You don’t know why, but something didn’t sit well with you seeing the boys interact with the girl group. Why? You had no claim over them. You felt like you were going crazy.

You don’t sleep that night.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Later that night, after filming wraps…

The Saja Boys find themselves ambushed by Huntrix—Rumi, Zoey, and Mira—demon-hunting girls who are too fast, too smart, and too close to the truth.

The boys run, Jinu being caught into a fight with Rumi which leads to him finding out her secret. A Hunter who’s part demon. He gives it some thought as he walks out of the bath house. Then, his thoughts shift to you.

Did you watch the show tonight? What were you doing right now? Did you remember him at all?

Then suddenly he’s pulled into Gwi Ma’s chamber.

Smoke. Fire. Screams locked in stone. The demons are cheering for the boys, now in their demon forms. Gwi Ma sings the chorus of Soda Pop. 

“It’s catchy” 

He brings up Rumi- the hunter who bears his mark. He tells Jinu he has no control over her. Jinu remains curious, telling him that he can find out her shame and use it against her to bring the Hunters down. 

Then, Gwi Ma’s flames rise. The tension in the air thickens as the four other boys on the ground below are brouht to stand next to Jinu before the Demon King.

“However, I sense that you’ve lost your focus,” the Demon king hisses. His flames grow —and conjures a mirage image of you, asleep in bed, cheek pressed to your pillow. The boys tense at the sight of you. 

Their anger rises. They don’t like that you’re being presented to them like this- in front of all demons to see. Of course- everyone else in the Demon realm had an inkling- an idea of what you were to the five. It was unspoken, a rumor that spread throughout the years - that they had tied their ancient souls to a human hundreds of years ago. But no details of that pact had been known. And now, the boys were livid as every demon knew your face.

Abby grit his teeth, immediately standing and stepping forward. He didn’t want any other demons seeing you, gazing at what was his. “Don’t-!”

Jinu grabbed his shoulder back, willing his friend to calm down, even though he was struggling to contain his own anger. 

“That girl... is she going to be a problem? A… distraction?” His voice was teasing. A sickeningly playful tone meant to mock them.

The boys bristle, their jaws clenched as they see the demon king’s image of you. You- who was so precious to them. Jinu steps forward, eyes hard. “She is ours. You made it so. The pact cannot be undone.”

Gwi Ma’s image of you faded and the boys all visibly relaxed, though still tense.

Gwi Ma spoke once again, voice teasing. “You remember, don’t you, Jinu? How you came crawling to me, weeping like a child the moment she died in your arms.”

Jinu’s eyes widened, haunted at the memory.

Gwi Ma continued. “You begged me to bring her back. But I gave you something better.

A deal.

Bind four others to her soul. Trap their power. Anchor her across lifetimes—and I’d let her return.

And you did it.

You found them. Broken little things. Monsters like you. You forced the bond. You made her the center of your madness.

You cursed her to be wanted. Needed. Torn apart by obsession.

All for what?

To share her?

To watch her slip through your fingers again and again?”

The boys visibly grew more tense with every word he uttered. Romance grit his teeth, and Baby’s nails dug so deep into his palms they began to bleed again. They were monsters who desperately clung to the only light they had. Demons who tainted the purest thing they had ever laid eyes on. The guilt. The shame. All weigh heavy on their hearts, but not as heavy as their deep desire for you. 

Gwi Ma continued. “No matter how close she gets… she’ll never truly be yours.

But if you succeed—if you finish what I told you to—maybe I’ll give her to you.

All of you.

For good.”

Their heads snapped up at that. Disbelief and false hope gleaming in their yellow demon eyes. 

Gwi Ma’s flames shift to a smile as he saw their non-subtle desperation. “Then here’s my offer.”

“Succeed. Harvest the souls before the Honmoon seals, bring down the hunters. Do your job. And I’ll let her live.”

“Fail… and I rip her from the cycle. She’ll never be reborn again.”

The boys snap their heads up. Shock, desperation, and fury ablaze on their faces. He wouldn’t dare. The boys don’t speak. But silent thoughts race through their heads. They wouldn’t have to wait centuries for you? All the endless years of loneliness and suffering… if they succeeded, they’d be gone. And you would be theirs. Fully. No more dying, no more waiting. Theirs, for all eternity. 

The offer was weighing heavy in their minds. But it wasn’t even a question. How far would they go to have you? The answer was that there were no limits. No lines they wouldn’t cross. No world they wouldn’t burn to keep you.

They just kneel, a silent agreement. 

They’ve waited centuries. They can wait a little longer.

But this time, they won’t just protect you.

They’ll possess you.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The boys apparated back to their apartment in silence.

No music. No lights. Just the faint, cold glow of Seoul’s skyline spilling through the penthouse glass like a wound that never closed.

They didn’t speak. They couldn’t. The memory of Gwi Ma’s offer still echoed like ash in their throats. The price was steep, yes—but the reward?

You. Untouched by his claws. Unwatched. Unmanipulated. Free.

If they could ensure your soul was yours—and theirs—forever… they would pay that price a thousand times over. So they agreed. Without hesitation. Without question. Now they sat in the dark, five demons and the shape of a girl in their hearts.

It was Abby who cracked first. “She looked cold,” he muttered.

His elbows rested on his knees, large hands clenched together so tightly the skin over his knuckles had gone pale. He wasn’t looking at the others. Just the floor. Somewhere past it. Somewhere where you had been.

“She looked cold in that vision. Like she hadn’t been held in years.” He swallowed thickly. “I’d keep her warm. She’d never feel cold again. Not even for a second.” His voice broke near the end.

“She should’ve been with us.” Romance was standing by the tall windows, framed in moonlight, arms crossed tight like he was holding his chest together. “She doesn’t even remember us,” he said softly. “We’re strangers again.”

He tried to sound nonchalant—but his voice cracked on ‘again’.

Baby didn’t move from the couch. His legs were crossed, jaw tight, nails digging crescent moons into his thigh. “Then we make her remember.” He looked up. Eyes black.

“Tie her down if we have to.”

No one told him to take it back. Because all of them had thought it.

From the corner, curled on a throw blanket like a resting animal, Mystery breathed out a long, aching sigh. He was clutching something close to his chest. Your scarf. One from a lifetime ago. The threadbare edges frayed, carrying a scent only he still recognized. He’d stolen it then, kept it hidden through each century. He never let it burn.

“She cried last night,” he whispered. The room went still. “I felt it.”

They turned.

“She misses us,” he said. His voice was too soft for the size of his pain. “Even if she doesn’t know why. Even if her brain doesn’t remember—her soul does. She sees us in dreams. She reaches out.”

No one doubted him. Mystery had always been the tether. The first to feel you across lives. The first to know. He curled tighter around the scarf like it could bring you back. “She reaches,” he whispered. “But we’re not there.”

Silence again.

Then Jinu stood. The weight of four centuries in every breath he took. He moved like a monarch of grief—shoulders squared, spine straight, eyes dark and steady.

“We need a plan,” he said. The words dropped like stone. “No chaos. No claiming. Not yet.” His gaze passed over each of them, firm.

“We woo her. Win her. Make her feel safe.”

Abby let out a bitter snarl. “I don’t want to pretend. I want to take her.”

Jinu’s jaw tensed.

“So do I,” he said. “But not if it means she runs. Not if she thinks we’re monsters.”

“Are we not?” Baby asked coldly. But it wasn’t really a challenge. It was despair.

“We’re hers,” Jinu replied. “That’s all that matters.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty—it was thick with agreement. Each boy looked down. And one by one, they nodded. For now, they’d wait. But not forever.

You would remember.

You would come back.

And when you did— You’d never be allowed to leave again.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

You didn’t know why you were out this late.

You told yourself it was for a snack. The cold night air. The glow of convenience store signs. But the truth was burrowed beneath your ribs—tight, restless, and waiting. Something inside you itched, tugged. Like an invisible string pulling you down familiar streets.

You turned the corner and froze.

“Y/N?”

A voice. Soft, velvety, soaked in a sadness you didn’t understand. You looked up.

Jinu.

Standing beneath a flickering streetlight like a secret carved out of the night. Hoodie loose over his frame. Hair tousled, moonlight catching in the strands. His eyes locked with yours. 

Your breath caught.

He took a step forward, hands raised slightly—like approaching a wounded animal. “Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said gently. “I just… recognized you.”

Recognized? Your heart began to pound. Hard. “How do you know my name?” you asked.

Jinu smiled. But it wasn’t cocky or flirty. It was aching. “Because it’s the only name that ever mattered to me.”

And that’s when it happened. A flicker behind your eyes. No—it wasn’t a flicker.

It was a memory. A feeling. A lifetime cracking through your skull like thunder.

You saw him.

Not here. Not in this hoodie, not on this street. But in crimson silk beneath a palace moon. A hanbok embroidered in gold, eyes lined with kohl. He reached for you across a garden of foxglove. Your name spilled from his lips like scripture.

And then—

“Y/N.”

Another voice. Close. Too close. Romance stepped beside you, holding a book. One from your wishlist. The exact one you’d looked at two days ago online and never bought.

You took it in trembling hands. His voice dropped to a murmur. “Because I’ve been whispering it for hundreds of years.”

The world spun.

Another vision. His fingers on yours. A past version of you, crying. Him kissing your knuckles in the candlelight.

“Because I’ve never stopped saying it,” Abby said now, appearing at your side, holding— Your scarf. The one that went missing days ago. “Even when you weren’t alive to hear it.”

FLASH. There was blood on his hands. A blade meant for you. Abby standing between it and your body, screaming your name.

Your knees went weak. You staggered. The breath in your lungs turned jagged. 

A gentle touch. Behind you.

Mystery. Quiet. Wide-eyed. Fingertips brushing the sleeve of your coat like he was afraid you’d dissolve.

“I’ve known your name longer than you have,” he whispered.

You blinked—

And you were in the mountains. Your hands small. Younger. A fox curled against your legs. You were humming. He was warm. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

Across the street— Baby. Still. Watching. Eyes black as obsidian. And then—

The fire.

A palace burning. Bodies. You, screaming. Baby dragging corpses away with one hand while shielding you with the other.

You gasped. Your vision blurred. Your hands shook. You didn’t know if you were crying. But you felt like you were breaking.

Romance reached out, arm around your shoulders, steadying your frame.

“She’s remembering,” Mystery said, voice trembling. “She’s starting to remember.”

You didn’t hear them clearly. Your ears rang. Your body pulsed like a struck bell. Romance’s forehead pressed to yours, voice like velvet and ashes. “We missed you,” he breathed. “So much it drove us mad.”

Abby was pacing now, unable to stay still. His eyes burned. “You smell like home,” he choked. “I forgot what that felt like.”

Baby hadn’t moved, but he looked like he might lunge. His fists were clenched. His shoulders tight. His jaw locked.

His eyes were nothing but shadow.

He wanted you.

Jinu stepped forward, palm raised like a commandment. “Stop,” he said. Sharp. Firm. “She’s scared.”

He was right. You were. Tears blurred your eyes. The world spun again. “Who… who are you?” you asked, barely a whisper. “What do you want from me?”

Abby took one step. “We’re yours,” he said, voice low.

Jinu caught his arm. “Abby—”

“You were ours,” Romance added, lips brushing your temple. “You will be again.”

“No—no, this isn’t real—this can’t be—” You backed up. “You’re crazy.”

You looked into their eyes for the first time. And your blood ran cold. 

Not human.

They were glowing. Amber. Topaz. Garnet. Glasses of gold and rage and want. 

You didn’t think—you ran. Your footsteps slammed into the alleyway pavement. Breath heaving. Vision swimming. You ran like your soul was on fire.

And behind you— They didn’t follow.

They stood, the five of them, like statues in mourning. Longing. Rage. Grief. Hunger.

Mystery whimpered once.

Baby’s fists dripped blood from his own grip.

“We scared her,” Jinu muttered, teeth grit. Shame painting his face. “We were supposed to make her feel safe.” His voice was raw.

“She looked at us like we were monsters.” Abby slammed a fist into the wall. “She didn’t even recognize me.” 

Romance still watched the alley’s end where your shadow had vanished. His lips curled into something bittersweet. “Not yet,” he said. “But she will.”

The other boys turned. He smiled wider. Devastating. Determined. “Now?”

His voice dropped.

“We seduce her.”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

You don’t remember getting home. One moment you were running. The next, your apartment door slammed shut behind you. You locked it. Bolted it. Double-checked it.

Then you fell.

Not gracefully—like a collapse, like a marionette whose strings had been severed. You’re curled on the floor now, your fingers tangled in the hem of your clothes, your back pressed to the side of the bed. Shaking. Silent. Your chest is heaving, but the air doesn’t reach your lungs. You’re not crying because you’re sad.

You’re crying because you’re losing your mind. Every time you close your eyes… they’re there.

Jinu in royal silk, kneeling in the blood-soaked courtyard of a Joseon palace—his eyes hollow, your lifeless hand in his lap.

Romance cradling your head by a lake turned black from poison—screaming into your mouth like he could breathe life back into you.

Abby roaring over a field of corpses—his armor cracked, clutching you as smoke swallowed the sky.

Mystery baring his fangs at priests dragging you away—his form shifting between beast and boy, voice howling your name like a prayer.

And Baby—oh god.

Baby in a burning chamber, crawling toward your corpse through ash. His smile was carved wrong, twitching, shattered—his arms cradling your body like a doll as fire devoured the world around him.

You cover your ears. You curl tighter. Your bones ache. “These aren’t mine,” you whisper. “They aren’t mine—”

But they feel like they are.

The grief. The rage. The longing. The love. Too much love. It presses against your ribs like a dam waiting to crack. And deep—deep—within your chest… something stirs. Something ancient. Something hungry.

You drag yourself under the blankets. Trembling. Numb. You don’t sleep. Sleep claims you.

And you never hear the figures outside your window. Five of them. Silent on the balcony.

Jinu’s hand is on the glass, forehead pressed lightly to the cold. His eyes are shut, breath fogging the surface. He had to see you. Just once more. Even if it killed him.

Romance stands beside him, one hand in his coat pocket, the other pressed to his lips like he might say something—but doesn’t. He just watches. Unblinking.

Abby paces behind them, boots scuffing against concrete. Every noise inside your room makes his head whip toward the door. He wants to kick it down. Drag you into his arms. Keep you warm. Keep you close.

Mystery is curled beside the potted plants. His ears twitch. His claws dig into the concrete. He hears your breathing. He knows when your sleep shifts. He knows you’re dreaming.

And Baby— Baby stands furthest from the glass. He doesn't move.Just stares at your sleeping form through the sheer curtain. His eyes are too wide. His hands are in his pockets, but the blood dripping from them gives him away. He clenches his jaw. He had wanted to go after you. To hold you. To punish anyone who scared you. But Jinu made them promise.

No chaos. Not yet. They all told themselves they were here to make sure you got home safe. But deep down, none of them believed that. They were here because they needed to see you one last time. Because you were in their veins now.

Because the bond was waking.

And soon—you’d be theirs again.

───────── ༺🜃༻ ───────── Author's note: Let me know if you guys enjoyed this? I plan to expand more into the backstories as their relationship develops. I've got characterizations up just for a teaser that I might post tonight. :) With love, Willa x.

[ara2gr3y]

𝕐𝕠𝕦'𝕣𝕖 𝕆𝕦𝕣𝕤 // Saja Boys & Huntr/x

// DATE // 29th of June 2025 → 30th of June 2025 // PAIRING // Huntr/x x Fem!Reader x Saja Boys // WARNING // Angst-ish?, I'm bad at writing award shows but I had to make it difficult for myself and make one anyways. // WORDS // 2.5k+ // SUMMARY // When a nervous solo artist unexpectedly finds herself seated between two of the biggest idol groups at an award show, she expects to be ignored - only to be met with warmth, curiosity, and a spark of something deeper. As the night unfolds and her past resurfaces, what began as a whirlwind of insecurity slowly transforms into unexpected support, and a silent promise from the people who were never supposed to notice her.

// Part One // Part Two // Part Three //

If I could explain it, I would. But I can’t.

I have just been hyped up on social media, by none other than Huntr/x and the Saja Boys. And I only just met them at an award show. I was obviously my clumsy self and literally stumbled into Zoey. I felt so embarrassed. I looked up to them, still do, and just went and made a fool of myself in front of them. Later that night I was assigned a seat between the two groups.

I don’t know how I got so lucky… and so unlucky at the same time. It was so hard not to freak out. What I expected was to be ignored by both groups. I was a nobody and yet I got to sit with them.

I didn’t deserve this. Not the seat, nor the proximity to them. Hell, they didn’t deserve to be seated with someone as low as me.

But they actually talked to me. At first I wasn’t sure if they were even talking to me, but when I didn’t respond Rumi placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. It startled me.

“I’m sorry, w-were you talking t-to me,” smooth y/n. I scold myself. She only smiled sweetly, like she understood.

“Is this your first award show?” she asked again.

“I- yeah,” I stuttered, grimacing as I awkwardly pulled my shoulders up. “Is it, obvious?” she nodded, chuckling softly. Probably because of the wide eyed expression on my face. Simply because this goddess of an idol was talking to me.

“Just a little,” she says, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. “We’ve all been there, but don’t worry. You’re safe. We got you. Any questions you have about events like this, we can answer them,” she gestures to herself, then the girls who were now focused on my too. “Including them, right boys?” she asks the Saja boys on my other side pointedly. My cheeks heated in embarrassment, as I turn to my left where they sat.

They’re all watching me. Relaxed, effortless, like they were born to be idols. There was a shared look between them, no words spoken. A smirk here and a smugly raised brow there.

“Sure,” Jinu replys casually, shoulders lifting in an easy shrug. Smile tugged at the corner of his mouth like he knew something I didn’t.

I returned my gaze to the front, but theres a new feeling that I couldn’t shake. Like I was being watched, though if I peeked in the corner of my eyes it wasn’t them. Or was it?

“Don’t mind them,” Zoey says, waving her hand dismissively. “Relax, I know it’s nerve-wracking to be here. But it will be okay,” she lifts her shoulders in an exaggerated shrug, then lets them drop, signaling me to do the same. Then she leans back into her seat. I nod, taking a deep breath and lowering my shoulders before sinking into the seat completely. The tension finally loosening just a little.

“By the way, who are you?” It’s Baby, the maknae of the Saja Boys. Normally the silent type, but I’d heard he can be blunt. This is apparently one of those moments.

“That alone proves to me, that I should in fact not be here,” I mutter under my breath, not knowing they heard me loud and clear. Doubt settling in my throat like it did when I first walked in. I sigh and shake my head, trying to push it down. “I’m Y/n.”

Little does she know that both bands exchanged glances, stunned for a brief moment. They couldn’t understanding why she spoke so little of herself. Sure they didn’t know who she was, but they were sure there had to be a good reason for her being here. They most certainly wanted to find out more about her.

Before any of them could say anything one of the hosts entered the stage.

“Annyeonghaseyo, everyone! Welcome to this years K-pop Rising Stars Awards!” the host spread his arm wide as he spoke. Grand gestures to capture the audiences attention. “The night where we celebrate the freshest talents, the most unforgettable songs, and the idols who’ve taken this year by storm,” the moment he stops talking his co host enters the stage enthusiastically. Joining to stand beside the first host.

“Hello, hello! I’m Seyeon and alongside Minjun,” she introduces the both of them. “I’m thrilled to guide you through an incredible evening packed with excitement, anticipation and of course amazing performances,” cheers fill the venue.

“Tonight, we’ll be honoring a whopping fifteen idols and groups with well deserved awards!” Minjun exclaims, throwing an excited gesture toward the massive screen behind him as the list of categories light up in bold glittering text. I knew the Saja Boys and Huntr/x were nominated for multiple of these categories, which they absolutely deserved.

You would think that I would be nominated for ‘Rookie of the year - Solo’, or maybe ‘Hidden gem award’. Even the ‘Fan’s choice award’ would have made more sense. But no, I was nominated for the ‘Heartfelt Voice Award’. How? I still didn’t understand. It was as much of a shock for me as it was for my manager.

“So, sit back, enjoy the show, and let’s celebrate the incredible journey of our beloved idols - both those just beginning and those shining brighter than ever!” Seyeon brings the energy down gently, her voice calm and methodical as the crowd begins to settle. Turning to her co-host with a smile. “So, Minjun… what category shall we start with?”

“Let’s start with a bang!” Minjun replies with excitement. “How about we start with ‘Album of the year’,” music starts playing as the nominated albums show on the screen. Out of the corner of my eye - bottom right, just barely - I see him. My ex, Seo Jaewon. He’s looking straight at me with that smug look on his face that might as well be a middle finger in a tux, but I ignore it. I have to. I knew his group, NOIR7, was nominated for multiple awards too, including this one.

“Why is he looking this way,” Mira mumbles, just loud enough to make my stomach twist. The stiffness returns to my shoulders like a reflex. Of course she had to notice him.

I decide to just keep quiet. They don’t need my drama in their lives. Focusing my attention back to the hosts. They are both glancing at the screen.

“Wow,” Seyeon breathes. “So many incredible albums. How could we possibly decide on a winner?”

“Luckily, we don’t have to!” Minjun replies with a grin. He pulls an envelope from behind his back, Seyeon joinin ghis as he slowly, deliverately peels it open. Stretching the tension across the room. “The winner of ‘Album of the year’ is…”

“Huntr/x!”

Zoey squeals with excitement. The three hugging while the audience including myself clap. Someone even whistles. A smile graces my face with genuine happiness for the group. They pass me and the Saja boys to get to the stairs that led to the stage.

Wow, Mystery things, she looks kinda cute when she’s this happy. But it’s more than that. It’s the way her eyes light up - not just for the win. It’s adoration, an adoration she holds highly for Huntr/x.

He watches her a moment longer than necessary, feeling a pull he can’t explain. He’s so distracted by her that he doesn’t even clap for his friends win.

Rumi steps up to the microphone, Zoey holding the award, visibly excited for the win. Even though this is far from their first win. “Thank you so much for this incredible honor,” Rumi starts sincerity clear in her voice. “We’re truly grateful to our fans, who inspire us every day, and to everyone who believes in our music and message,” my heart swells warmly at her words a content sigh leaving my lips which does not go unnoticed by the boys. “This award means the world to us, and we promise to keep working hard and growing together. Thank you!”

Soon they return to their seat, placing their award on one of the three small coffee tables arranged in front of our large couch. For a while the smile doesn’t leave my lips as the categories continue. Saja Boys win two awards before NIOR7 wins one.

Jaewon smirks at me deliberately. Clapping the rest of the members on the back as they make their way to the front. Smug and cocky.

“What is up with him?” this time it’s Romance who notices. My gaze drops, fingers curling tightly into the fabric of my dress, bunching it at my thighs.

“It’s me,” I mutter. No use pretending anymore - Jaewon’s public hatred is impossible to ignore it seems. Even for them.

“What does that mean?” Mira asks, I can feel her eyes on me as I sigh in defeat. Shaking my head, I wanna scold myself for sharing this with the people that shouldn’t have to deal with my shit.

“Jaewon is my ex,” I tell them, visibly shaking with the anxiety crawling up my spine. “He’s just trying-” I take a shaky breath. “Trying to shove it down my throat that he’s better than me. Which… he is,” I hate to admit it but I’m going on a ramble now and there’s no stopping me. “We’ve been doing this the same amount of time but my music never took off-” a bitter laugh escapes me. “Meanwhile, he’s out here winning awards, selling out arenas… and I’m just a nobody,” I lift my gaze carefully, fighting back the tears pooling at the edges of my eyes. “It’s like no matter what I do, I’m always one step behind. And he… he makes sure I never forget it.”

Their faces are soft, no judgement, just understanding. My hands loosen their grip on the fabric. Taking a shaky inhale, I glance over at Jaewon who’s still holding his acceptance speech like he is the center of attention.

“Why would he do that?” Zoey’s voice is soft and gentle, reaching across Rumi to take my hand. I shrug my shoulders, an awkward near tears smile on my lips.

“I don’t know,” it’s barely a whisper as it leaves my lips. “I guess he just wants to break me down so I don’t tell-” I stop myself from finishing. Missing the look of curiosity mixed with anger from the eight around me.

“And now, with this nomination, it’s like he’s laughing at me in front of everyone,” I swallow hard, the sting of tears threatening. “I should not be nominated-”

A protective urge flares within them. They are not just interested anymore. Now they want to make sure she gets votes. Recognition, the win.

“What are you nominated for?” Jinu cuts in, his voice serious. It confuses me but I answer anyway. Telling them know the category like it made zero sense and the song I was nominated with. Their eyes flicker with a sudden recognition. Without a word, a silent agreement passes between them.

I want to ask ‘Why?’ but before I can, Jinu takes his phone out. One by one, the others do the same. Confused I turn to Rumi, Zoey and Mira. They too have their phones out. Not wanting to be rude I don’t peek but I can’t hold in my curiosity. Tears pretty much drying up instantly with the need for answers.

“What are you guys doing?”

“Getting you more votes,” Abby says like it’s obvious.

“Wh-what?” my eyes widen, completely stunned. “But- why? How?”

“When you said the song,” Romance starts while still typing on his phone. “I realised I do know the song.”

“It is a heartfelt song,” Mira adds which surprises me. They know my song. “And your voice fits it extremely well.”

“Wait, you know my song?”

“Of course,” they all say in unison. But they don’t know me..?

“How?”

“We got it sent as an offer for our album,” Rumi says. “But we declined it because we thought it should belong to the original artist.”

“But it was always my song…,” I trail off, unsure what to believe anymore. “It was never meant for others…? I never-” realization dawns on me as my eyes search for Jaewon. “He stole it. Oh my god, it makes so much sense now.”

Silence falls over the group, heavy. There is a shift in the air that brushes over my skin, but I can’t put my finger on. Zoey’s mouth parts in disbelief. Rumi’s expression darkens, jaw tight, eyes fixed on Jaewon across the room like she could burn a hole through him with her stare alone.

“He submitted it… as his,” Baby says quietly, like he’s piecing it together in real time.

That’s bastard, Romance thinks, clutching his phone tight. Composing himself quickly before his patterns show. His fingers move fast. One post goes out. Then another. Then another. Until every account he has, on every platform has a post, pushing her song. His screen glowing with the need to fix this.

“But how do you guys even know of my song?” I ask Jinu, confused cause the song wouldn’t fit their group. In my opinion.

“We got to listen to it as well because we are signed with the same label,” Jinu replies calmly, exhaling slowly, sharp and controlled, but there is fury in the stillness of his body. He keeps to himself that he still has the demo saved. That when he feels down, he listens to it on repeat.

“You wrote that song?” Mira asks, her voice almost softer now. “Every word?” I nod, taking my own phone out to show them pictures of my physical note book.

“Look, these are the lyrics,” I show them a page with crossed out lyrics, rewritten and changed again until I thought they were perfect. They all lean in. A little too close.

“Then you’re not just meant to be nominated,” Zoey says firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument, stunning me. “You’re meant to win.”

“What- no, it’s not that-” I try to protest, stumbling over my own disbelief. I don’t deserve this. Not their support. Not their attention. Not this.

But Abby speaks before I can finish. “We’re going to make damn sure you do,” his voice low and final. The others nod in agreement.

This isn’t about the award anymore. It’s about her. About what was taken from her. About giving back what belonged to her in the first place.

I sit there, stunned and overwhelmed, for the first time that night, I don’t feel so alone.

But she has no idea just how far they’re willing to go, to make sure she never feels this way again. They know not nearly enough about her yet. But they will. The song already tells them more than she realizes. Little glimpses into her heart, her fears, the way she views the world. It’s raw, honest, painful. The can’t unhear it. Can’t unsee her. She thinks they are just being kind. That it ends with some extra votes and sympathy. Doesn’t know it’s something bigger, deeper. Quiet for now, pulsing beneath the surface.

// Part One // Part Two // Part Three //

[ara2gr3y]

Woof woof bark bark

[ara2gr3y]

PRAISE THE SINNER

𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐔 𝐒𝐀𝐉𝐀 word count :: ( 2,190 ) genre :: dark romance, erotica, obsession, && worship. content contains :: extremely spicy read 🌶️, explicit content, power play (dom!reader), body worship, jinu’s praise kink, && mutual stalking. (possibly more) requested by : @theshadowsden

(๑>؂•̀๑)

the first time she touched his hand, he almost flinched.

not because it hurt — no, it was the opposite. it was warm. grounding. like being yanked back into a body he thought he’d long since shed. her palm pressed to his just for a moment at the fan sign table, fingers curling delicately around his.

“you’re my favorite,” she said, voice silk-wrapped and low, like she didn’t care about the cameras, like it wasn’t a line.

and then:

“you have the kindest eyes.”

he laughed, of course. smiled. played the part. there were fans all around them. a line still forming behind her. another question scribbled on a post-it. a staff member waving a sharpie at his other hand.

but when he blinked, something flickered behind his own reflection. golden. hungry. ancient.

she came again. and again. three events in a row. always front row. always her name on the sign-up list — not her real one, but one he’d memorized anyway. always something new to say:

“you speak like poetry.”

“your fingers look like they play the stars.”

“you don’t belong in this world, do you?”

and that time, he froze. because how did she know?

he’d been watching her long before the fan signs. tucked behind tinted windows. listening in on her voice messages. glimpsing her across subway platforms. it was the way she moved — slow, self-assured, like someone who knew they were being watched and didn’t mind it. like bait. like ritual.

he told himself it was part of the job. gwi-ma wanted souls primed for collection. but jinu? jinu wanted something else.

he wanted her praise.

and now, standing three aisles behind her in a dimly-lit convenience store, he watches her fingers ghost over a pack of spicy ramen. some scallions. sesame oil. glass noodles.

“late dinner?” he asks, stepping forward at last.

she turns.

and god — her face lights up like she summoned him.

“jinu?”

her voice breaks on his name like it’s already been whispered against pillows. like she’s been thinking it in the dark. and then, she says it again, softer this time.

“you’re even prettier in hoodies.”

his stomach coils. he blinks — too slow — and his eyes flash gold before he can stop it.

she doesn’t notice. or maybe she does. she’s still smiling. still radiant. still reaching up to tug the edge of his sleeve like it’s hers to hold.

“you followed me?” she teases. “am i being hunted?”

his grin is slow. crooked. nothing human lives in it.

“maybe i’m just hungry.”

her eyes scan his face, and for a second, he wonders if she knows. really knows.

and then she tilts her head and says, “well… if you’re not doing anything, you should come over. i just did a dinner run.”

his breath stutters. the world tips.

she gestures to the bag in her hand. “ramen, banchan, probably too much chili oil. nothing fancy.”

he follows her out the door, eyes glowing dim beneath the streetlights.

“sure,” he murmurs. “i like what’s on the menu tonight.”

but what he means is, i like you.

what he means is, i’ve been starving.

what he means is, you will be his meal.

and he knows—knows in the marrow of him—that their menus will not match. hers may hold spice and comfort. his holds skin, soul, surrender.

your apartment is dim and humming. a single lamp in the corner casts soft light across the kitchen, and you move through it like you’ve done this a thousand times — like letting idols into your space is nothing new. like letting monsters in is normal.

you kick off your shoes. open a cabinet. let the bags fall against the counter like you’re not being watched.

but he is watching.

jinu sits at your kitchen table like a painting about to come alive — hoodie off, patterns hidden, but eyes glowing faint with something greedy. not gold, not yet. just the simmer. just the flicker.

he doesn’t blink when you glance back at him.

“you okay?” you ask, lips curling softly.

“yeah,” he lies, voice rough. “just… can’t believe i’m here.”

you smile like you already knew he would be.

like you planned it.

you cook quietly. fast. ramen boiling, oil popping in the pan. he watches your hands — how precise they are, how sure. like you’re crafting something holy. like you know exactly how to serve a man his own undoing.

he thinks about your voice at the fan signs. the things you said.

you have the kindest eyes.

you speak like poetry.

you don’t belong in this world, do you?

and now he’s here. still not sure if you invited him or summoned him.

“set the table?” you ask.

“yeah,” he says again, and rises a little too quickly. his fingers brush yours when he grabs the bowls, and his breath stutters.

you don’t react. but your smirk deepens.

you sit across from him. eat. talk. soft things. silly things. your knees brush once, and neither of you pulls back. you blow on your noodles, and he swears he could die from the way your lips pout, from the heat of your gaze when you meet his eyes mid-sip.

and then it happens.

you lift your chopsticks. pick up a small bite of kimchi. and reach across the table.

“here,” you say, voice low. “open.”

he does.

the taste hits. sharp. sweet. and your eyes don’t leave his as he chews.

“you’re cute when you’re quiet,” you murmur.

he swallows hard.

“gimme your desire,” he almost says out loud. but his throat is dry. his jaw tense. his pulse isn’t beating right — not in time with anything human.

you finish your meal like nothing’s wrong. like you’re not driving him to madness.

and then you stand.

he thinks you’re just clearing the plates. he reaches for his — polite, nervous — but you stop him.

instead, you lean down. not from the front, but behind. both arms around his shoulders. one hand on his chest, the other ghosting beneath his jaw.

you press your nose to his neck and inhale.

“you smell sweet,” you whisper. “like you’ve been thinking about me.”

jinu breaks.

his eyes flash bright, glowing hot and holy. patterns pulse beneath the fabric of his shirt. he grips the edge of the table like he might shatter it.

“you’re lost in my daze,” you breathe into his ear. “yeah… you can’t look away.”

and he can’t.

you feel his breath hitch. feel the tension in his spine. his restraint cracking wide open.

“can i show you something?” he whispers. his voice isn’t just his anymore — it’s laced with something deeper. something old. something that doesn’t belong in a room like this.

you don’t pull back.

“show me,” you murmur. “but only if you beg.”

he turns slowly, breath ragged, pupils blown wide.

“gimme your desire,” he says, finally, voice wrecked.

and when you kiss him — softly at first, then with every inch of heat you’ve been holding back — he groans like it hurts.

he wants to ruin you.

but you’re the one who’s about to ruin him.

the kiss deepens fast. ugly. hot. full of hunger. your hand in his hair, his fingers pressing into your back like he needs you closer, and somehow, it’s still not close enough.

the plates are forgotten. the lights blur.

your mouths part, catch, meet again with teeth.

he moans into it — not dramatic, not performative — just a low, helpless sound from somewhere deep in his chest, like he’s never been kissed like this. like he’s never needed anything the way he needs your mouth on his, over and over and over.

you start pulling.

he follows.

your bodies fumble down the hallway, breath heavy, lips red. his jacket drops somewhere. your fingers drag along the wall. his hand is at your hip now, holding it, gripping it like an anchor he doesn’t want to let go of.

you make it to the couch.

he falls first.

legs splayed, chest heaving, eyes dark and star-bright. and you? you climb over him like you were always meant to — knees on either side of his thighs, your palms braced against his chest.

“fuck,” he breathes.

you lean in. kiss him again — harder this time, deeper. your tongue brushes his. he gasps.

his hands fly to your waist, squeezing tight. grounding himself. and that’s when you smile, teeth sharp behind lips slick with him.

“these hands,” you murmur, pulling back just enough to speak against his mouth, “they’re so big.”

he twitches beneath you.

you rock once. slow. deliberate.

“strong, too. god, jinu…”

he groans — louder now. more than he means to. more than he wants to. like it escapes him.

you don’t let up.

you trail your fingers along his knuckles, then down his wrists, feeling the tension in every inch of him. your lips move to his neck, dragging, biting. not enough to hurt. enough to claim.

he’s trembling under you.

and then, like it slips from somewhere in the back of his skull, he whispers it:

“don’t you know i’m here to save you?”

you stop. eyes lock. a quiet settles.

then your lips curl.

“baby,” you whisper, voice silk over sin, “you’re the one who needs saving.”

his breath catches. his eyes glow again — gold, wild, hungry.

and then you’re kissing again.

harder now. messier. your hips grinding down just enough to make him growl against your mouth. his fingers dig into your waist like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you.

“now we running wild,” he gasps, head thrown back against the couch, hands sliding lower.

and you hum. slow. wicked.

because yes — now he’s ruined.

and it’s only just begun.

his body feels too hot beneath yours. not in temperature, but pressure — like something caged, coiled, waiting to snap. his hands still cling to your waist, but the strength in them is shaking now. unsteady. like he doesn’t know how to hold you without falling apart.

“so strong. you hold me like i belong to you.”

your hips grind once more, and he gasps.

“slow,” you murmur, lips brushing his jaw. “let me take my time.”

his throat bobs. he nods. barely.

you press your hands to his chest and feel it — the way his heart doesn’t beat like yours. it pulses. deep. ancient. like the thud of war drums buried beneath the ocean.

“i worship your chest,” you start, fingers splayed over it. “how it rises when you breathe. how it shakes when i touch you.”

you want to hear that rhythm tremble.

you continue with his collarbone. your lips graze it like a prayer. you drag your tongue down the hollow of his throat, feel him shudder. he fists the edge of the couch. he whimpers.

“you don’t even know,” you whisper, “how good you are like this.”

he turns his head to the side, panting. glowing. wrecked.

but you don’t stop.

you unbutton his shirt slow, letting each glowing pattern reveal itself like a secret. symbols carved in motionless flame. down his chest. across his ribs. curling down his stomach like temptation incarnate.

you trace one. “these marks,” you whisper, reverent. “they’re beautiful. even when they’re cursed.”

you press kisses to every single one.

soft. deliberate.

his body jerks beneath you, and you hum.

“you— you don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he pants.

you do.

“so strong,” you say, lips moving over his skin. “so beautiful. you were made to be worshipped.”

“f-fuck,” he breathes.

you sit up for a moment just to look at him — shirt undone, marks glowing, his mouth parted like he’s praying for something he doesn’t understand.

and then you say it.

“you know i’m the only one who’ll love your sins.”

he stares at you like you just cut open his soul.

and maybe you did.

“say it again,” he pleads.

you do — slowly, softer this time, your lips brushing his ear:

“i love your sins.”

you drag your hands down his stomach, trace the lines of his hips, then lower — slow, intentional, your fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his jeans. he bucks, but you press a hand to his chest and hold him there.

“i worship this too,” you whisper. “the way you ache. the way you hold it in. the way your body begs even when your mouth stays shut.”

his breath catches. his eyes flutter shut.

but you lean close. your mouth finds his ear.

“feel the way my voice gets underneath your skin.”

he lets out a sound that isn’t human.

his hips lift into your touch. his chest heaves. and when your lips meet his again, it’s not hunger. it’s offering.

you take him in your hands. stroke slow. worshipful. and he melts.

moaning. trembling. gasping your name like it’s the only word he remembers.

and still — as you praise every inch of him — his hips, his ribs, the slope of his neck, the sound of his cries — he doesn’t just fall apart.

he offers himself to you.

and you take him.

as slow and as sweet as he deserves.

you love him like he’s never been touched right.

copyright © t4kalcvr 2025 all rights reserved

💬, HEEEEELP I LOVED WRITING THIS ITS SO AHHHHHH, THANK YOU FOR THIS REQUEST (guys they always requested an abby fic soooooooooo) I HAD SO MUCH FUUUN !!!! next up with either be the twin sin part three orrr a requested baby fic by an anon requester!!! ENJOY THIS READ !!! oh yeah AND IM GOING TO SLEEP, SO GOODNIGHT GUYS, I WILL CONTINUE FEEDING YALL TOMORROWWWW !!

ko-fi 🎧

look here for more reads 📚 !!

permanent 🔖 :: @sukunasrealgf @sinamew @valentique

[ara2gr3y]

Bound to Them

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 3: 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐃𝐚𝐲

𝐒𝐚𝐣𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Part 1 Part 2

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

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

—𝑬𝒎𝒓𝒚𝒔 🩷

💌 requests are open! if you have any ideas for the main series or want to request a oneshot, my inbox is always open.

w/c: 5.8k+

comments and reblogs would be appreciated!

You barely had time to catch your breath when the crowd parted and the stage lights dimmed, the sound of fans screaming echoing like a wave through the venue. Your heels clicked against the floor as you rushed past the security barriers, Jinu’s last-minute text still fresh on your phone. “You’re on duty today. Fansign. Now.” You had agreed to manage them once—as a favor, to help smooth things over. You didn’t expect to walk into this.

A joint fansigning event.

Saja Boys and HUNTR/X. One long table. All of them seated together.

You didn’t have time to fully process it before a familiar voice called out your name.

“No way.” Your head snapped toward the source. Bobby, HUNTR/X’s manager, was grinning at you with arms open. That same easy confidence he’d had since you were teenagers still lived in the lines of his smile. You rushed into his embrace without hesitation, his arms wrapping around you in a familiar, grounding hug. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“You still smell like cinnamon gum and stress.” you said in the hug.

“And you still find a way to look like a goddess even when you’re late,” he shot back. “What are you doing here?”

You laughed, brushing your hair behind your ear, heart still racing. “I’m… uh, supervising the Saja boys.

“Didn’t know you were babysitting idols now.” 

You laughed, pulling back slightly. “Just for today. It’s temporary.”

“Right,” he said, his brows lifting like he didn’t quite believe you. “Temporary or not, good luck. They don’t look like the easy type.”

Neither of you noticed the ripple of tension across the table as five pairs of eyes locked onto your interaction. Unblinking. Dark.

They saw the way you smiled. The way Bobby’s hand lingered at your waist. The way your laughter looked too easy, too warm.

Romance’s jaw clenched, his pen stalling mid-autograph. His gaze was fixed on the way Bobby’s hand lingered at the small of your back. “She’s hugging him?” he muttered—telepathically

“I see it,” Jinu replied, his fingers tightening around the marker he held. “It’s just Bobby.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Abby growled under his breath, low enough that only they could hear. “He touched her.”

Baby forced a smile toward a fan in front of him but his voice was tense when he leaned sideways. “Can we not combust in front of the fans?”

Romance’s jaw was locked, but his tone dripped with something darker. “I don’t like it.”

“She’s smiling at him,” Mystery said again, voice rougher now.

“She doesn’t know,” Jinu reminded them, trying to breathe through it. “Not yet.”

Their marks hadn’t stopped glowing under their sleeves since the moment you walked in. Hidden beneath cuffs and fabric, the bond buzzed, burned—aching for you. But they were surrounded. Cameras. Staff. HUNTR/X.

You finally approached the stage, tugging your badge into place, and Bobby gave you one last wink before leaving you at the side of the stage.

“Thanks again,” you whispered, brushing your fingers down your front, nerves suddenly spiking.

“No problem. Call me if they get out of hand.” He walked off with a laugh.

You hadn’t even made it to the middle of the table before the tension hit you like a wall. Mira was seated between Romance and Abby—unfortunate placement, really—and the way her head snapped up the second she caught sight of you made it clear she hadn’t expected to see you here.

Romance’s smile snapped into place, sultry and soft, but his eyes never left your body. “There she is,” he murmured, just loud enough for the others to hear.

Mira blinked when she saw you, her body stiffening. “Y/N what are you doing here?” 

Before you could open your mouth, Romance was already leaning forward with that slow, disarming smile of his. “Didn’t you hear?” he said, voice syrupy with charm. “She’s our manager.”

Abby followed up without missing a beat, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Pretty thing just couldn’t resist us. Lucky, huh?”

Mira’s glare darkened. She turned her head slowly, eyes flashing between them before landing back on you. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

You stepped in quickly, placing a gentle hand on the table as if to steady the rising heat. “Be nice,” you murmured, soft but pointed, looking at the boys.

Romance didn’t say anything, just raised a brow and smirked over Mira’s head like he’d just won something. Abby shot Mira a subtle grin, smug and silent, before leaning closer to you and murmuring, “We’re always nice baby. Especially to you.”

Then, louder—Abby sat back and let his voice carry. “We are being very nice,” he drawled, slow and dangerous, his grin directed at no one and yet pointed straight at Mira. “Nicer than we usually are.”

Mira growled under her breath, but neither boy looked at her—too wrapped up in you. Too busy proving a point without ever saying it outright.

You sighed, trying not to smile, before giving Mira an apologetic glance. “It’s only for today,”

Her eyes lingered on you for a second longer than necessary, but she gave a stiff nod and turned back to signing albums without another word.

Relieved, you moved down the table toward the center where Mystery, Zoey, and Baby were seated. Zoey lit up the second she saw you coming, bouncing a little in her chair like a ball of uncontainable sunshine.

“Unnie!” she chirped. “You’re here! Oh my god, you didn’t tell me you’d be managing them!”

Mystery gave a subtle nod, his eyes trailing your every move, while Baby leaned forward with an expectant tilt to his head, his elbows resting lazily on the table.

You smiled, leaning between them. “Just checking in. Do you three need anything?”

Baby’s gaze met yours, slow and heavy-lidded. His head tilted, lower lip jutting out in a soft pout. “I do,” he said. “Can you come here?”

You leaned down instinctively, brows lifting. “Yeah?”

He beckoned you even closer with a curled finger, then cupped his hand around your ear like he was about to tell you a secret. His voice dropped into a soft, playful whisper, tickling your skin. “I want banana milk and those lollipops from the staff table. Please?”

The request sounded innocent but the way he said it? The deliberate slowness. The whisper that felt more like a breath against your skin than actual words. It made your skin prickle. You glanced up at him, only to find him watching you through his lashes—warm, possessive, amused—like he already knew you’d obey.

You blinked, surprised by the sudden intimacy in the moment. “Banana milk and… lollipop?” you repeated.

You straightened slightly, blinking. “That’s all?”

He tilted his head, gaze dropping to your lips with maddening slowness. “Mmh… No.” He leaned in again, brushing his nose against your cheek in a slow, warm nuzzle. “I want a kiss too.”

Your breath hitched, frozen between the sound of cameras and the murmur of fans. Your eyes darted to his face, but he was already leaning back, the lollipop from earlier suddenly back between his lips, like he hadn’t just short-circuited your nervous system.

Zoey, sitting right beside him coughed hard on her drink. “Wha—?! Did you just say kiss?”

Without missing a beat, Baby shrugged, turning slightly but never once taking his eyes off you. “What? She asked what I wanted,” he said, his tone maddeningly casual.

Zoey’s eyes bulged. “Yeah, but like—what kind of answer is that?!”

Baby popped the lollipop into his mouth, slow and smug. “One you can’t give.”

Zoey gawked. “Excuse you?”

He sucked noisily on the candy, smirking like the devil himself. “You’re not on my list. Don’t flatter yourself.”

Zoey’s jaw dropped. “You little—”

“Shh.” He waved a lazy hand. “The grown-ups are talking.”

You turned your face away quickly, biting back a smile—but the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. And Baby just leaned back in his seat like he’d won something. Like he had no idea he was driving you absolutely insane.

A sharp, loud bark cut through the chatter of the event.

Startled, you jumped, eyes wide, your hand instinctively flying to your chest. The fans in front of the table giggled nervously, unsure whether it was part of some fanservice.

Zoey, without missing a beat, grabbed the nearest pen and smacked Mystery on the arm. “No! Bad Saja Boy!” she scolded. 

Mystery snapped his head to glare at her, eyes flashing with something distinctly not human. In his head, he was two seconds away from biting. Who does she think she is scolding me like that? Another growl rolled from his chest, deeper this time, low and warning.

“Myst,” you murmured gently, your eyes searching his. “You okay?”

The second your fingers touched his skin, everything shifted. His shoulders dropped. His jaw unclenched. His eyes, still dark and stormy, flicked to yours and held. And for a long second, he didn’t breathe—he just looked, like the sight of you alone was anchoring him.

Then, finally, a slow exhale through his nose. “Yeah…” His voice dropped to a gravel-soft whisper. “Now I am.”

Your hand lingered longer than necessary, brushing down his sleeve. You didn’t even realize you were doing it.

From beside you, Baby let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “You really malfunction around her, huh?”

Mystery didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to. His eyes stayed locked on you, burning with the kind of silent promise that made your skin prickle and your pulse trip over itself.

You smiled softly, hiding the tremble in your chest, then moved to check the others.

You made your way toward Jinu and Rumi.

The closer you got, the more you slowed your steps.

They were whispering. Close. Their heads bent toward each other like something intimate was being exchanged. Rumi’s brows were furrowed, her arms crossed, and Jinu’s jaw was tight. You couldn’t hear the argument under the music and fan chatter. You only saw what your insecurities wanted you to see. Something ugly twisted low in your chest. It was silly. It was irrational.

But it hurt.

A pretty girl. A boy you were starting to fall for.

And the painful reminder that you didn’t belong here.

They look good together.

You froze just a few steps away. The scene in front of you felt… right. Too right. The way Jinu leaned in, the way Rumi's eyes searched his—it felt private. Important.

Maybe they’re closer than you thought. Maybe they’ve always been.

You turned away before you could say anything and cast your gaze over the rest of the table.

Romance was laughing at something Mira had muttered through gritted teeth. Abby leaned behind Mira’s chair to say something else, making the girl visibly flinch. You could almost see Mira’s eye twitch.

They’re teasing her again…

But instead of amusement, your stomach flipped. That same cold weight returned—jealousy, maybe. Discomfort. You couldn’t name it.

And then there was Zoey, still animatedly talking Mystery’s ear off.

All you saw was your boys interacting with girls who weren’t you. All you felt was that buzzing sense of being… outside.

You folded your hands in front of you and smiled. Small. Professional.

You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath until Rumi’s voice pierced the air.

“Woo! Jinu!” she called suddenly, her voice too bright, too loud

Your head snapped toward the stage just as the fans erupted in delighted screams. A wave of adoration crashed over the crowd, bouquets flooding toward the boys. Each of them accepted their gifts with tired but practiced smiles, charming poses, and tiny waves that sent their fans into a frenzy.

Then Jinu’s voice cut through it all.

“Unfortunately, the Saja Boys have to run. Thank you, everyone”

Jinu was already brushing past the curtain with his jaw set and expression unreadable. Abby’s shoulders were hunched in a quiet kind of fatigue, his eyes forward, his fingers twitching like he was barely keeping himself together. Romance leaned against Baby, murmuring something that made the latter huff, too tired to tease. Mystery flanked them all, protective, silent, his gaze scanning the hallway ahead like a sentinel.

They thought you were behind them. They thought you were with them.

Your feet moved before your brain did, trailing behind them instinctively. Your chest tightened at the sight of their backs, their shapes disappearing one by one. A strange, aching heat simmered low in your belly, that same magnetic pull dragging you forward, making your fingers itch to reach out—just to brush against Abby’s back, or the edge of Romance’s long sleeve. To remind them you’re still here.

But just as you crossed the threshold, ready to catch up—

“Y/N!”

The sharp edge of Rumi’s voice made you halt mid-step, the chaotic noise of fans and staff fading behind the thick curtain of the backstage hallway. You turned slowly, heart still unsteady from the boys’ sudden exit, only to find Rumi storming toward you—eyes blazing with something between frustration and panic.

“What are you doing with them?” she demanded, voice low but fierce.

Your brows furrowed. “Rumi…”

She didn’t let you finish. “I saw you,” she said, arms crossing tight over her chest. “You were practically following them like a shadow.”

“I’m their manager.” You crossed your arms. “They needed help, and I said yes. Why do you care?”

Rumi’s expression twisted. “They’re dangerous, Y/N.”

You flinched at the word. “You don’t get to say that to me now.”

“I’m saying it because I care—”

That hit you wrong. You stepped back. “You’re one to talk.”

Rumi flinched, guilt flickering across her face.

“You don’t get to come back now and pretend like you care,” you said quietly, but the edge in your tone was sharp. “Not after shutting me out. Not after disappearing without a word.”

“I had to,” Rumi whispered.

“No, you didn’t. You just didn’t want to explain.”

Her fingers curled into fists. “You don’t understand.”

“No.” You stepped forward. “You were scared. And you didn’t think I could handle it.”

Her expression wavered.

“I saw them, Rumi,” you added quietly. “The marks. That day in your dressing room. You didn’t know I was there. I wasn’t supposed to see, was I?”  You weren’t supposed to be able to see them—only hunters could. But you weren’t just anyone.

You were Celine’s niece.

And the blood you carried made you see things you weren’t supposed to.

Her breath hitched.

“I saw them,” you whispered. “And I didn’t run. You did.”

Rumi’s face hardened, guilt flickering behind her eyes. “I left because I had to.”

You blinked, jaw trembling.

“And yet here you are,” you whispered, voice hoarse. “Telling me to stay away from people who’ve never once made me feel unsafe.”

“They’re not people,” Rumi snapped.

That made you pause. A cold chill slid down your spine.

“What are you talking about?”

She hesitated, her next words almost a whisper. “They’re demons. All of them.”

You stared at her. “No. They’re idols, Rumi.”

“They’re demons pretending to be idols,” she said, stepping closer. “That’s how they survive. They feed on attention. On souls.”

You shook your head. “That’s not possible.”

“I’m telling you the truth,” Rumi said.

Rumi’s gaze searched yours, her voice gentler now. “I don’t want to see you hurt. Please, stay away from them.”

But your thoughts were spiraling. If they were demons, then why… Why did they look at you like that? Why did your body react to them like they belonged to you? Why did their presence feel like gravity?

“…What am I to them?” you asked, more to yourself than Rumi.

Rumi looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

You shook your head, stepping back. “Nothing. Just—thanks for the warning.”

She reached out again, but you were already walking away, your steps dazed and slow. Your fingers itched for your phone, your voice screamed for answers, but your heart was thundering with something more dangerous than fear.

♪♫•¨•.¸¸❤¸¸.•¨•♫♪•¨•.¸¸❤¸¸.•¨•♫♪

The city shimmered below, lights bleeding gold and blue against the midnight haze. You stood on the balcony of your apartment, the night air brushing against your skin like a quiet lullaby. But your chest aches too much for the silence to soothe you. The salt of dried tears clung to your cheeks, cool now, but still burning. You weren’t even sure when you started crying. You just knew you couldn't stop.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, staring out at the dark horizon, trying to remember what was real. What was right. What was safe.

Your phone vibrated again.

Jinu.

You didn’t need to see the name to know. He’d been calling you nonstop. Quietly. Desperately. Always at the same steady rhythm, like he knew you weren’t ready to talk—but couldn’t stop himself from reaching out.

And God, you wanted to answer. You wanted to run to them.

But Aunt Celine’s voice rang in your memory like a curse etched in stone.

“Demons can’t love. They manipulate, they tempt, they ruin. It’s how they survive. Don’t trust them. Not with your soul. Not with your heart.” “Protect Rumi. She’s different. But she’s still family. You were born to keep her safe.”

You had believed her. You still wanted to believe her. But…

Then there was them. The boys. 

Why did the boys make you feel safe?

Why did you crave the sound of their voices? 

Why did their absence feel like something gnawing at your soul?

They never demanded. Never manipulated.

They simply looked at you like they knew you. Like they’d been waiting for you across lifetimes.

You pressed a trembling hand to your chest. The pain throbbed beneath your sternum like your heart was rejecting its own rhythm. You didn’t know what it meant—but you knew it was tied to them. To the thing you kept pushing down.

The bond.

You were resisting it. And it was fighting back.

Your knees buckled slightly, and you gripped the balcony rail for support until something brushed softly against your ankle.

You flinched. But when you looked down, your breath caught.

A massive blue tiger, its luminous eyes gleaming like twin moons. It stared at you with unnerving gentleness, head tilted, purring deep and low in its chest. Strangely, you weren’t even afraid. Your body didn’t tense. Your heart didn’t leap. In fact, the moment its fur brushed against your skin, warmth seeped in like balm to your raw nerves. As it circled around your legs and curled up at your feet like a loyal guardian, the strangest thought bloomed in your mind. It knew you. Like it was recognizing something sacred.

You knelt slowly, fingers slipping into its soft fur, and the tiger pressed its head into your palm like it had been waiting for you to finally touch it. You exhaled shakily, lips parting. “Jinu… sent you?” It let out a low, confirming rumble, then nudged something against your thigh—a crinkled envelope, damp from being carried in its mouth. With trembling fingers, you pulled it free and stared. A tiny doodle of a duck was scrawled on the corner. You let out a soft, broken laugh through your sore throat and unfolded it.

“Please let us explain.”

Your heart twisted violently in your chest.

You bent down slowly, fingers gently brushing the tiger’s massive head as you whispered, “Go back to your owner.” Your voice cracked, but your tone held. “Please… I can’t do this.” 

The tiger didn’t move. Just blinked up at you with those ancient, glowing eyes and let out a soft, grumbling huff, as if rejecting your rejection. You sighed, turned your back, and walked inside thinking that would be the end of it. It wasn’t. The quiet pads of its paws followed you like a shadow. No matter how many times you asked, begged, pleaded—it wouldn't leave. By the time you reached your room and collapsed onto your bed, exhausted and trembling, it had already curled beside you, pressing its massive warmth into your side like a heartbeat you didn’t know you missed. Curling beside the tiger, you buried your fingers into its warm fur and finally let the exhaustion pull you under. Sleep came like a wave. Heavy. Absolute.

Your dreams were vivid and strange.

The air was warm and thick, like breath against your skin, and shadows moved around you. You couldn’t see them clearly, but you knew it was them. Could feel each of their presences like heat at your back and lips at your ear. Their voices started softly, murmuring your name like a prayer, circling you in unison. 

“You don’t have to run.”  “We don’t want to hurt you baby. We just want you.”  “Let us show you what you really are to us.”

You tried to answer, but no sound came. The ache in your chest flared. You were falling, the ground vanishing beneath you, the rush of wind stealing the last of your fear.

Hands—strong, warm, possessive—caught you.

A voice rasped against your ear, low and rough, like velvet dragged over gravel. “I’ve got you, baby.”

Another followed, coaxing, tender, closer than skin. “You’re safe. We’re here now.”

Then came a third—slower, darker, laced with heat that kissed the back of your neck. “You’re ours. You always were.” You whimpered, not from fear but from the unbearable comfort of it all. The rightness. The ache you’d been fighting melted into something euphoric.

Then you felt it—lips. Pressing softly to your forehead. Your cheek. Your collarbone. One of them kissed your wrist. Another pressed a lingering one to your neck, right where your pulse throbbed. Each touch was branded with devotion, with a claim you didn’t understand but your body welcomed with a tremble. “We’ll never let you go now,” someone whispered. 

♪♫•¨•.¸¸❤¸¸.•¨•♫♪•¨•.¸¸❤¸¸.•¨•♫♪

You couldn’t believe what you were about to do.

Standing in the elevator, your reflection stared back at you—eyes wide, lashes still wet from the dream. No, not a dream. Nightmare. Fantasy. Curse. Whatever it was, it had a grip on you, one you couldn’t break. One you weren’t even sure you wanted to.

Your body was still humming from it.

From him.

From all of them.

This morning, you’d been pacing like a madwoman, haunted by too many sleepless nights wrapped in their voices, their hands, their heat.

You told yourself you were only going to see them to end this delusion.

That was the lie you whispered on repeat.

The dreams hadn’t stopped since meeting Baby and Jinu. In fact, they’d only gotten stronger.

They’d become a nightly ritual, a secret craving you no longer tried to suppress. Sometimes they were sweet, quiet moments stolen between rehearsals, the boys teasing you about your clipboard while you tried (and failed) to scold them like a proper manager. Sometimes, they were simple, one of them pulling you into their lap backstage, fingers brushing your hair back so gently like you were something fragile, precious.

But those moments were rare.

Most nights… they were anything but innocent.

Because more often than not, you woke up shaking, thighs slick and trembling, your body wrecked from phantom touches that felt far too real. You don’t need to overthink why. It was obvious. In your dreams, the boys had a shared obsession—a fixation that was as shameless as it was worshipful.

They loved going down on you.

It always started slow. A kiss pressed to the inside of your thigh—open-mouthed, hot. Then another, higher and another, until their breath ghosted just where you needed it most. Sometimes it was a tongue, tracing deliberate patterns until your legs trembled. Sometimes, it was their fingers—spreading you open with a kind of gentle precision, like you were something sacred to be discovered.

Their hands were always so big. Firm and possessive. They held you down like your body was theirs from the moment the dream began.

You knew you were in trouble when you started going to bed earlier just to fall into them again. When your body starts waking you up late—clinging to the heat of their mouths, their growls, their worship.

And last night…

It had been Mystery.

You’re lying on your back, naked against soft black sheets that smelled like him. Your wrists were loosely held above your head. Mystery hovers over you, his broad chest rising and falling with slow heavy breaths, his dark eyes devouring every inch of you like you're the only thing he sees. The only thing he wants.

His lips found yours first this time. Hot and possessive.

The kiss wasn’t gentle, it was raw, consuming tangle of teeth and tongue that steals the air from your lungs. He kisses you like he hadn’t tasted anything in centuries, like you’re the only thing that could ever satisfy him. Your fingers twist in his hair, dragging him closer and he growls deep into your mouth that vibrates straight through your bones.

"You’re mine," he says against your lips, nipping your lower one until you gasp. "Say it."

“I’m yours,” you whisper breathless, his hand slides down your body like he owns every inch of it.

His mouth blazed a path down your neck, biting deep enough to bruise, then soothing it with his tongue. When he reaches your chest, he sucks harshly just beneath your breast, his voice rumbling against your skin.

“Mine," he growled into your skin. 

Another kiss. 

“Mine."

Another bite. 

"Ours. All fucking ours."

Your hips writhe under him, your breath stuttering in broken little moans as he works his way down your body, slower and darker with every inch. By the time he’s between your thighs, you're trembling, thighs slick and spread wide for him. Your body aches with a need that borders on pain. But still, he didn't give in. Not yet. He kisses the inside of your leg first, marking the soft skin there with his tongue, then sinks his teeth in rougher this time. Like he wants the world to see the bruise and know you belong to him.

His fingers slide between your folds, slow and deliberate, circling your entrance with wicked patience. His breath fans hot over your inner thigh as he speaks, low and full of hunger.

"This little cunt," he growls. "She’s been dreaming of me, hasn't she? So needy. So fucking wet. Begging to be filled."

“Please,” you breathe, barely able to speak. “Mystery—please, I can’t take it—”

He chuckles, dark and dangerous.

"You're so good for me," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your clit with maddening, perfect pressure. "Opening up so prettily. Dripping like she knows who she belongs to."

“Yesss…yours…” you gasp, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m yours…”

That’s all it takes.

That’s when his control snaps.

His markings flared brighter, spreading across his chest as his demon form threatened to break loose. His lips curled back as a low snarl rumbled in his chest, but he didn’t stop. He presses two fingers inside, thick and deep, curling them to hit that spot that will make you see stars as his mouth finally closed around your clit. The cry that tears from your throat is unholy. Your back arches off the bed as he devours you with reverent, ruthless precision. His fingers stroke your sweetest spot while his tongue flicks in devastating rhythm, his voice rough in your ear, commanding and full of sin.

"Cum for me." 

Your body locks up. The orgasm hits like lightning—white-hot and all-consuming.

And he doesn't let go.

He rides it out with you, licking, growling, praising you through every wave.

"Good girl. So fucking good. Ours. Ours. Ours."

Just as the second climax crashes through you—too strong, too much, too good—

Ding

The soft chime pulls you back into your body like a sudden drop. Your skin is still warm and your breath shallow as the memory of the dream clings to your thighs and the space between. Mystery’s voice still echoes in your head, low and raw, his hands still claimed your hips, your neck, your soul—and now you're standing at the entrance to their floor with trembling knees and a pulse racing for all the wrong reasons.

A staff member in sleek black attire gives you a polished smile, gesturing to a sleek tablet on the counter. “No need to sign in,” she says sweetly. “They’re already expecting you. Everything is prepared.”

Her words land like a drop of ice water in your stomach.

They’re expecting you.

You froze. Your heart dropped like a stone into your stomach.

They knew.

After all this time—after a week of ignoring their calls, their texts, their invasions into your sleep—you still hadn’t been able to break whatever tie bound you to them. And now, you were the one walking willingly into their den.

Your legs moved before your brain could catch up.

Each step down the sleek corridor toward the penthouse door felt like surrender. Like falling. Your heart thudded, the ghost of last night’s dream echoing in your bloodstream.

Mystery’s voice. His breath. His teeth.

You could still feel him.

You weren’t sure if it was worse that it wasn’t real… or that it had felt more real than anything else in your life.

By the time you reached the door, your fist was already clenched, ready to knock—ready to scream, maybe cry. But it opened before you could.

Jinu stood there.

Barefoot. Sweatpants slung low on his hips. His shirt clung to his chest, damp like he’d just come from a workout—or something far more primal. His eyes met yours, slow and consuming, and you could tell immediately… he knew why you were here.

He stepped aside without a word, gaze never leaving yours.

You stepped in.

The moment the door clicked shut behind you, the silence stretched, tight and taut like a wire ready to snap.

You swallowed hard, spine straightening as you crossed your arms, gripping the edges of your sleeves like they could hold you together. “You need to stop.”

His brow ticked up, but he didn’t move. “Stop what?”

The breath left you in one sharp, hot exhale. “I’m not here to play games. You know what. The dreams. The calls. Whatever the hell it is you’re doing to me—stop.”

Your throat tightened. You tried to look away, but he was already standing in front of you—close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body, warm and solid and maddening.

“I know what you are,” you choked out. “I know you’re not human.”

Silence.

Then, a breath.

“And?” he said quietly, like the word didn’t scare him at all. “What do you want me to say? That we’re demons?” He tilted his head. “We are.”

You staggered back a step. The confirmation made your stomach drop—but not from fear. From knowing. From the weight of every impossible thing that suddenly made too much sense.

"Then why me?" you whispered. "Why my dreams, why my body—why are you haunting me?"

Jinu didn’t answer with words.

Instead, he reached out and touched your wrist—lightly, reverently. And suddenly you felt it, that heat again. That slow, pulsing ache low in your belly that responded to his touch like it knew him. Like it wanted him.

“Because you’re not just anyone,” he said. “You’re ours.”

Your lips parted. “Don’t—”

“You’re our mate,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “Fated. Bound. Chosen. Not by force. Not by magic. But by something deeper. Older.”

You took another shaky breath, but your spine refused to straighten.

“I’m not like you,” you said. “I’m… human.”

Jinu gave the faintest smile, sad and tender. “So were we. Once.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. Your chest ached with too many emotions at once.

“I don’t want to be something you feed off of,” you whispered. “I’m not a soul for the taking.”

His jaw clenched and that was when he moved.

One second, there was space between you.

The next, your back hit the wall.

But it wasn’t rough. It wasn’t violent. His hand was already behind your head, cradling it carefully to keep you from jolting too hard. He caged you there, arms braced on either side of you, his chest close enough to steal your breath and brand his scent into your skin.

His scent wrapped around you—spiced, masculine, dizzying. It clung to your skin like heat, like a claim. His arms boxed you in, broad and trembling with restraint, every breath he took shaking through his chest like a storm held back by a thread.

“You think we’d hurt you?” he whispered, his forehead dropping to yours. “Hurting you would destroy us. From the moment you stepped into our world, we felt you. The bond was already forming. You were always meant to be ours.”

His hand brushed your cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing the path of a tear you hadn’t realized was falling.

You blinked at him, breath catching as he leaned closer, his mouth grazing your temple.

“We don’t want your soul,” he murmured. “We want you. Your love. Your trust. The sound of your laugh in our lungs. Your scent clinging to our skin. Your name—” he exhaled, barely above a breath, “—your name in our mouths when we fall asleep. When we wake. Always.”

You whimpered, breathless, as his lips hovered above your jaw.

“Please,” you said, barely audible. “This doesn’t make sense…”

“No,” Jinu whispered. “It feels right. That’s why you’re here. That’s why you came back. That’s why you dream of us.”

His lips finally brushed yours. Soft. Barely there.

“We would never take from you,” he said. “We only want what you’re ready to give.”

And with that… he waited.

Inches from your mouth. Every breath between you was charged—thick, magnetic, vibrating with tension that made your knees weak. His gaze didn’t waver, golden and molten, fixed entirely on you like you were the only thing that existed.

“I love you,” he breathed, voice trembling with restraint, his lips brushing yours with every word. “I love you so much.”

His fingers tangled in your hair, cradling the back of your head as he tilted your chin up, slow and reverent. His mouth, pink and parted, hovered just out of reach. You watched, helpless, as his tongue swept across his bottom lip, leaving behind a glossy trail.

You reached up without thinking, your thumb catching the glisten at the corner of his mouth, and his breath hitched.

“Baby,” he whispered, voice husky. “Can I kiss you?”

“Hmm?” you blinked, dazed, his words echoing through your chest like a drumbeat. Kiss. He wanted a kiss.

“Yes,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his as you spoke. Your tongue darted out to taste the lip you’d just wiped. “Yes.”

That was all it took.

He surged forward, capturing your mouth like he’d been holding his breath for lifetimes.

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @iluvcatzz @miuangel @calmmell @junni-berry @reinabxitch @is-it-night-or-day @mel3484 @rivainimermaid @changyumi3 @brights-place @luscinya @itsjustveealt @libdarkheart @lostgirlinthewoodss @jklsh @luminnara @anything-and-everything-here69 @selena-rocker27 @lover-girl009 @blobbyblobblobblobblob @the-sweet-psycho @doodle-with-rhy @yogirl-willow @vampyyjules @dean097 @asillysimp @rinalouu @iincandescenttt @julianne1024 @iv-vee @lionheart178 @jkvolgs @sh4rk-k1d @julia-loves-cupcakes @weponxwrites @scara-simp69 @realifezompire @evemeri @meowmeowbeesh @nm4565natty @littlewhitefairy7777 @mydeardionysus @kinichportablecharger @mjustag1rl @sky2lar @gwinamlvr @bloodragunz420 @a-goblin-named-cherry @theproblemisthatimnotfictional

sorry for the long wait 😔 thank you so much for being patient!

[ara2gr3y]

Saja Boys x Rumi’s Sister! Reader

A/N: K-Pop Demon Hunters has me in a chokehold and I have so many ideas floating around in my head but I’m really bad at actually writing and executing them. But I had to write something to help with this fixation. Also, I don’t know how the Honmoon works. Like, can anyone alter or control it after some training? Do you need to be born with a certain predisposition? So, I kinda just made some stuff up.

Edit: Now has Part 2! Part 3! Part 4! Part 5! Part 6! Part 7!

‼️SPOILERS FOR KPDH‼️

“Okay, you guys are just going down there, right? I’m gonna go pick up some groceries,” You tell the three girls in disguise.

“Thanks, (Y/n)!”

“Thanks.”

“Thanks, (Y/n).”

Sighing, you wave over your shoulder as you separate from the girls. You managed their wardrobe and visuals, you were able to take the vague ideas in their heads and their music and bring them together in stunning visuals while maintaining their individual styles and own input.

But, you were also Rumi’s twin sister. You grew up alongside her under the guidance of your Aunt Celine. You trained with her, learning to fight, dance, and sing with her. However… You were never able to tap into the Honmoon like her or Mira or Zoey.

Which meant you couldn’t debut with your sister or help her with the Honmoon. All you could do was support her and the other girls how your Aunt Celine taught you: Cover up, keep your patterns hidden, cook for them, clean for them, make sure they always look beautiful, no fractures or faults in their image. And no faults of your own must ever be visible either.

You love your sister, there was never any doubt about that. And you love Mira and Zoey too, they were practically your sisters too. But you couldn’t help but feel… invisible and jealous sometimes. You wanted to perform too. Just once.

“Excuse me, miss?”

You were shaken from your thoughts by a smooth, male voice and a colorful flier being held out to you. Looking further up, your eyes widened and your face warmed at the sight of such a handsome guy right in front of you. You were no stranger to beauty working in the idol industry, but wow. Soft, black hair, warm brown eyes, clear skin and a soft smile. Your heart couldn’t help but skip.

“Uhm, I’m sorry,” You shook your head, trying to focus on listening to what the boy said. You couldn’t help but swallow thickly, your face still hot, “Can I help you?”

He smiled kindly, “My friends and I are having our debut performance this afternoon just a street over. We’d love for you to come watch and support us.”

Flustered by his charm and his beauty, you took the flier from him. “The Saja Boys…” You read. Looking around, you tried to spot the rest of his group.

You were startled when an arm suddenly landed on your shoulders. Actually, make that two arms.

Looking up, two more gorgeously unreal guys were on each side of you, an arm around each of your shoulders. One was a buff beauty with shorter magenta hair in a yellow beanie, his shirt hanging on for dear life. The other had longer pink hair that framed his face in a heart shape.

“That’s right,” the long haired guy smiled on your left.

“We’re the Saja Boys,” the buff guy on your right smirked. The two boys spun to slide into place on each side of the black haired guy, the three posing. “I’m Abby,” the muscle man posed, flexing which caused his shirt to strain.

“I’m Romance~” He blew a kiss at you.

“And I’m Jinu,” the black haired guy winked, smiling which made your heart pound all that harder to be the center of attention of three gorgeous guys. “We also have Baby and Mystery who are passing out fliers somewhere as well.”

“Right here, boss.” Oh great, more hot guys to make your heart explode.

A mint haired guy looked at you out of the corner of his eye as he walked past, joining the other three with a cool air. Another guy with long, pastel hair that covered most of his face walked past as well. Did he just smell you…? Was he purring…?

Oh boy. These boys were gonna give you a heart attack at this rate. Your heart was racing and you felt so flustered and awkward having their attention. “Uhm, wow, sorry, I’ll try to be there to support your debut! If you’ll excuse me,” You gave a small bow. Escape. Too many hot guys.

“You promise, sweetheart?~”

Your face flushed darker and you hurried away faster, “Y-Yup! See you there! Good luck!” You had groceries to get.

After getting enough groceries for you and the Huntr/x girls, you checked the time and noted that you had time to see that debut performance. The girls hadn’t texted that they headed back yet so they must still be at the doctors. Carrying the bags, you walked over to the other street, which was only a little more crowded than usual.

It seemed like you were just in time as a cloud of pink smoke grew in the middle of the street. You got closer as music started to fill the street and from the smoke, the five boys appeared.

“Don't want you, need you~ Yeah, I need you to fill me up~ 마시고 마셔 봐도~ 성에 차지 않아~ Got a feeling that, oh, yeah (Yeah)~ You could be everything that~ That I need (Need), taste so sweet (Sweet)~ Every sip makes me want more, yeah~” The black haired guy, Jinu, seemed to take the main vocals. The song was so bouncy and catchy that you couldn’t help but bounce your shoulders as the crowd grew around you. You got pushed to the front of the crowd and blushed as Jinu winked at you. You blushed, holding your groceries tighter.

“You're all I can think of~ Every drop I drink up~ You're my soda pop~ My little soda pop~ Cool me down, you're so hot~ Pour me up, I won't stop~ You're my soda pop~ My little soda pop~”

Okay, Huntr/x would always have your whole heartfelt support as your favorite group, but the Saja Boys were also really good… Like, if you weren’t Rumi’s sister, you might’ve jumped ship…

You were just a girl after all…

You blinked when some of the boys started blowing kisses into the crowd, launching hearts out of thin air. If they were just debuting, how’d they afford such great special effects…? These boys must’ve worked hard.

At least you thought so until you saw a flash of demon patterns and eyes on some of the boys.

You gasped. Were they… like you and Rumi? Part demons? Wait, no, they can control their demon features, you and Rumi can’t. No matter how much you tried to hide the growing patterns inching across your skin, it never worked. All you could do was cover up with long sleeves and pants.

They were just performing though. The girls would probably kill them as soon as they could once they caught wind of this demon idol group, because demons were all evil, emotionless creatures… But, if they were just demon guys performing because they wanted to perform, if they were nice demons, then wouldn’t that help prove that it was okay for you to live too…?

They helped the girl at the corn dog stand and gave those stressed kids some gifts, and they didn’t try to suck a soul once.

Your heart pounded, not just with how attractive the five were, but with hope.

The performance ended as the boys took their final poses before taking a moment to wave and send kisses into the crowd. As you scanned the group of boys, Romance sent you a flying kiss, Abby flashed you some finger hearts, Jinu’s smile widened at you, Baby raised an eyebrow at you, and Mystery gave a head nod.

What were you supposed to do now…?

[ara2gr3y]

„so BE a god!”

[ara2gr3y]

Heart of the Dreaming

Morpheus x Female Reader

You are the daughter of Rodrick Burgess. You find out about the "demon" in the basement and decide you want to see it. Things take an unexpected turn when your soulmate connection is made with the man you find down there. You are the one he has been waiting for, and you're being taken away from. Not for long. Dream will protect his soulmate.

☆☆☆

Chapter One - See you in my dreams

Chapter Two - Take my hand

Chapter Three - Mr Sandman

Chapter Four - Pocket full of sand

Chapter Five - What we are

Chapter Six - Blood and bonds

Chapter Seven - Burgess curse

Chapter Eight - Our purpose

Chapter Nine - Piece of me

Chapter Ten - Our two hearts

Chapter Eleven - Cracks in the glass

Chapter Twelve - Deep rooted nightmares

Chapter Thirteen - Make it count

Epilogue

☆☆☆

Queen of the Dreaming - Coming soon!!

[ara2gr3y]

Bound to Them

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 2: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥

𝐒𝐚𝐣𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Part 1

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

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

𝑨/𝑵: 𝑰 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖—𝒔𝒐 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉—𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅, 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒅, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 1. 𝑰𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒕 2𝒌 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰’𝒎 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒐 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒅—𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒐 𝒇𝒖𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒅𝒆 🩷 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕, 𝑰’𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 50 𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒇𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆—𝑰’𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒇 𝑻𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒍𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒂𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒎𝒊𝒕. 𝑰𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕, 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒊𝒕’𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍—𝑰 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒍𝒚. 🥺

—𝑬𝒎𝒓𝒚𝒔 🩷

💌 requests are open! if you have any ideas for the main series or want to request a oneshot, my inbox is always open.

w/c: 5.2k not proof read

comments and reblogs would be appreciated!

After what happened yesterday… you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about them.

You tried to be rational about it. You told yourself you’d always thought about the Saja Boys a little more than you should—who didn’t? But after yesterday they had been all you could think about. 

You fell asleep with the memory of their voices wrapped around you—dark and teasing. Hands that had never truly touched you haunted every corner of your mind, ghosting through your hair, skimming over your throat, resting low on your hips like they belonged there. 

They weren’t real.

 

They weren’t here.

 But they didn’t need to be.

Sleep didn’t come softly. It pulled you under like velvet shackles, thick and consuming. 

And the dream? It didn’t feel like a dream at all.

You dreamed of breath against your neck, of lips brushing along your jaw. Fingers woving through your hair, down your thighs, coaxing your head back with a touch that was firm but reverent. Like you were something fragile, treasured, owned. The weight of someone behind you, voice low and dark against your skin, whispering promises—claiming you as theirs.

You lower your hand and squeeze your eyes shut, gather your drifting thoughts, put the odd feelings down as aftereffects from the strange interview—and try to ignore the part of your brain that’s whispering things trying to tell you you’d rather feel their lips against yours.

You shiver and rub your arms. It's not the air that’s cold—it’s you. Empty. Shaken. You remember the way they looked at you. The way they spoke. The way Romance leaned his mouth, hovering just inches from yours, like he was about to ruin you with a single breath. You wanted them, you wanted them more than you have ever wanted anything.

It’s not real

You try to believe it.

You try to reason with yourself—you don’t even know them. They’re idols.  You’re just another girl. Another interview. They probably do this to other people all the time. They probably flirt with everyone. Whisper beautiful lies. Play with hearts for fun. It was all part of the illusion, wasn’t it?

You nod slowly, bile rising in your throat. Shame burns through your veins like acid.

Of course you weren’t special.

Of course it meant nothing.

You remember what they said during the interview… words like connection, belonging, theirs. You clung to those words like they were lifelines.

But maybe that was the cruelest part. They knew exactly what to say.

You bite your lip and force out a bitter laugh, but it trembles at the edges. 

You were such a fool.

“It’s fine,” you whisper, even though it doesn’t feel fine at all. “I’m fine.”

You’ll move on. You’ll forget. You’ll shove this feeling down until it suffocates you. Because that’s what you’re supposed to do, right?

Pretend that everything is fine.

Pretend you're not already mourning something you never even had.

♪♫•¨•.¸¸❤¸¸.•¨•♫♪•¨•.¸¸❤¸¸.•¨•♫♪

They haven’t seen you in weeks.

They could feel you slipping.

Not away—no. The bond wouldn’t allow that. Not truly.

But you were pulling back. Doubting. Spiraling with questions.

And it was driving them mad.

Romance was the first to crack.

“She’s doubting herself,” he murmured, staring at the untouched tea in front of him. “I can feel it. She thinks it wasn’t real.

“She needs time, Romance. She is human. She probably doesn’t understand the bond like we do.” Jinu voices, as always, he’s the one holding the line. The voice of reason. But even now, it trembles beneath the weight of longing. He too held the desire to look for you, to mark you as his then and there. If you needed proof of their love and bond with you, then he would give it to you. 

“She probably thinks she imagined it.” Abby’s jaw clenched, his golden eyes dark with frustration. “That we were just messing with her. Playing some games.” He shifted in his seat, frustrated. If only she knew what she does to me. I want to drag her back here, press her to the nearest wall, and taste her. I want her trembling on my tongue, whispering my name when I get down on her—

“We need to fix it,” Mystery said quietly. His voice was calm, but his hands curled into fists at his sides. “She’s slipping away.”

Jinu hadn’t spoken yet. He stood at the window, eyes locked on the distant city skyline. His voice, when it came, was soft. Measured. Final.

“Then we court her.”

They all turned.

“She needs proof,” Jinu said, his gaze still fixed outward. “She needs to know we meant it. That she’s not just another girl.”

“So we show her,” Romance said, rising slowly to his feet. The fire in his chest had been building for weeks, and now it burned just beneath his skin. His gaze turned sharp. Focused. Wild.

“We give her what she wants. She won’t know what hit her,” he said, voice low and dark. “And I know she’ll melt the second we touch her again. Any hint of possession and she’ll go soft for us.”

He could still taste the memory of her breath catching when his hand brushed her waist, the way her lashes fluttered when he leaned in too close. The scent of her arousal had hit him like a drug. Addictive. Dangerous. She didn’t even know what she did to them.

Baby leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, but the heat in his eyes betrayed the casual stance. A slow smirk curved his lips, dangerous and knowing.

“Oh, she will.” Baby smirked, remembering the way you acted between his members. 

He licked his lips slowly, remembering the way her eyes flicked between them—nervous, curious, needy.

He pushed off the wall, slow and feline. “She wants to be seen. To be claimed. To be taken.” His voice turned to a near growl. “So let’s take her. Properly. Let her know exactly who she belongs to.”

Jinu’s knuckles were white, his jaw tense with restraint. The need to protect you was primal, insistent. You would never lift a finger again. Knowing their mate was out there, doubting herself? It was unbearable.

You were theirs.

“We find her,” Jinu continued. “Then we show her what it means to be ours.”

Mystery’s voice rumbled from the corner, deep and taut with frustration. “She thinks she’s just some girl,” he growled, fangs flashing, frustration radiating from his every breath. “ Like we’d ever touch anyone the way we touched her. Like we’d ever look at anyone else like that.”

Romance sank into the couch again, legs spread, fingers drumming along his thigh. “So first flowers,” he murmured, eyes half-lidded, voice thick with desire. “Something soft. Something that smells like her.” He smiled, eyes dark. “Then something sweet. Something she'll taste and remember us with every bite.”

Their instincts thrummed just beneath their skin—ancient, aching, and impossible to ignore. It wasn’t about the chase. It was about claiming. About devotion. About providing. They didn’t want to hunt you down like prey.

No, they wanted to spoil you. To wrap you in silk and the scent of them. To press reverent kisses to your lips until the insecurity melted from your breath. To cradle you in every way the world has failed to. 

To make you feel it

know it

that you were never meant to be anything less than worshipped.

They will find you.

♪♫•¨•.¸¸❤¸¸.•¨•♫♪•¨•.¸¸❤¸¸.•¨•♫♪

Your apartment feels like it’s breathing.

Every shadow stretches too long. Every sound seems louder. But it’s not the noise that keeps you on edge—it’s the silence.

It’s them.

You haven’t stopped thinking about them since the interview. Haven’t stopped feeling them. Their gazes linger behind your eyes, their voices curling into your bones like smoke.

You twist on your couch, thighs pressed tight, trying to exhale the heat that’s settled under your skin. But no matter how many times you shake your head, pace your room, press cold fingers to your burning face—they’re still there.

Your mind betrays you, again and again. Flashing with images you swore weren’t real. Phantom touches that make your breath hitch. Golden eyes. Velvet voices. Soft laughter that still echoes between your legs.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

This is insane.

You are not the kind of girl who loses sleep over five impossibly beautiful men.

Then your phone vibrates.

You blink at the screen.

Unknown Number

Your thumb hovers, hesitation pulsing. But before you can talk yourself out of it, you answer.

“…Hello?”

A pause.

“Good morning, Miss Y/N. I'm calling on behalf of the Saja Boys.”

​​You freeze.

The voice continues, polite. Controlled. But something about it makes your stomach twist.

“I’m reaching out to confirm that you’ve been accepted as their full-time manager. Congratulations!”

Your pulse stumbles. “What? I didn’t agree to that. I think there’s been a mistake, I didn’t—”

“Yes, well, that’s the wonderful part. You don’t have to accept it. You’ve been chosen. The contract’s already processed. We’ll send a car for you this evening—”

“No.” Your voice cuts sharper than you expect. “I never agreed to that.”

“Well, the boys were very clear—”

“I said no.” You’re standing now, pacing. “You can’t just assign me to them. I didn’t sign anything—”

Then silence.

“Hey baby.”

You freeze.

The voice has changed.

It’s not hers anymore.

“J-Jinu?” Your voice trembles. Your skin goes tight. Your eyes dart around the room, instinctively scanning for something—someone. He’s not there. But you feel him. A low hum in the air, like heat lightning crawling up your walls. The shift in atmosphere is palpable, electric.

“How are you?” Jinu’s voice is smooth, low, and drenched in warmth. A honeyed tone that slips under your defenses like silk over bare skin.

Your knees nearly buckle. You sink back onto the couch.

“I—uh—I’m good.” You grip the edge of your couch too tightly. “How did you even—Never mind. Can I help you with something?”

He chuckles, and it’s deep and rich and the sound slides down your spine, making you shiver. The buzz against your skin deepens, tingling with awareness. You glance around again, pulse quickening… but he’s still nowhere in sight.

“I missed you.”

It’s not fair.

Just three words, but they slide into you like a key turning a lock. You clench your eyes shut, as if that will slow the heat crawling up your chest.

“I was hoping we could talk.” He adds, gentle. Careful. But each word is weighted, tethered with something that wraps around your spine.

“We’re talking right now.”

He hums again. Slower this time. Like he’s savoring the sound of your voice. 

“I meant in person.”

His tone is warm and gentle, but thick with desire. There’s no pressure. Only pull.

“No pressure,” he murmurs. “Just coffee. A quiet spot. Just you and me.”

Your throat tightens. You blink, and suddenly the room feels smaller. Warmer. Like the sound of his voice alone is wrapping around your ribs, holding you still.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea…” you murmur, but it comes out weaker than you mean.

He’s quiet.

“That's okay,” 

Still soft. Still warm. Not pushy. But beneath the words… something deeper. A thread of something that reaches for you without forcing.

“You don’t have to decide now. I’ll wait”

You shouldn’t even be considering it. Not after what happened. Not after the way you’d felt in that room.

He doesn’t say anything else.

He just waits.

And somehow that’s worse. Because it leaves you sitting there, breath caught, heart pounding, mind spiraling with the memory of golden eyes, warm hands, and heat.

You bite your lip.

You should hang up.You should say no....“When should we meet?”

♪♫•¨•.¸¸❤¸¸.•¨•♫♪•¨•.¸¸❤¸¸.•¨•♫♪

You arrived earlier than planned.

The coffee shop was warm and quiet, tucked between rustling trees and the soft hum of traffic. You’d chosen the far corner, hoping the shadows might soothe the nerves crawling beneath your skin.

But nothing could settle the storm rolling in your chest.

You were going to see him.

Jinu.

The sound of his name in your head was enough to make your spine tingle. You told yourself this was just a meeting. Just a conversation. Nothing more.

Then the air shifted.

You felt it before you saw him—an almost electric buzz crawling over your skin. Your breath caught as something invisible curled around your ribs and tightened.

He’s here.

You looked up.

And there he was.

Jinu walked in. The door chime rang softly behind him, but it was his presence that made everything around you fall away. The café might as well have emptied. Your vision tunneled. All you could see was him.

He looked impossibly beautiful—sunlight catching in his soft hair, the curve of his mouth as devastating as ever. But it was his eyes that undid you. Warm. Dark. Fixed entirely on you. Like he hadn’t stopped thinking about you either.

But he’s not alone.

Trailing just behind him was another body, languid and feline, oozing quiet confidence. Baby. His gaze slid across the café like he was bored but when it landed on you, it sharpened, darkened. A smirk ghosted his lips. He was effortlessly alluring, a contrast to Jinu’s soft intensity.

You barely had time to blink before they were in front of you.

“Sorry,” Jinu said, voice like low velvet. “He insisted on coming.”

Baby offered a shrug like it didn’t matter.  He slid into the booth beside Jinu, his knees brushing yours with casual familiarity, and your pulse jumped.

You nodded faintly, suddenly too aware of the heat crawling up your spine.

“Do you want anything, baby?” Jinu asks, voice low and warm, the word wrapping around you like silk.

You open your mouth to answer, but nothing comes out.

Baby leans forward just slightly, head tilted, gaze heavy as it slides down your body with no shame at all. “Anything you’re craving for, sweetheart?” he purred, lips twitching around the word. “We'll take care of it.”

Their very presence consumes you.

The waitress arrives just in time. Or too soon. You’re not sure. Jinu turns to her, but his gaze flicks back to you as he speaks, every word like a kiss pressed against your skin. The waitress nearly drops her pen. You nearly drop your sanity. She stammers out a response and hurries away.

You exhaled in relief—until you looked back at them.

Baby stretched his arms across the back of the booth, fingers idly tapping the cushion, but there’s nothing casual about the way his gaze drags down your neck to your chest, slow and unbearably steady. Jinu doesn’t look away either. You feel pinned in place, your body reacting like you’ve been physically touched, your skin heating beneath the weight of it.

You shake your head, trying to clear it, to breathe. 

“I—uh, I was just wondering if…”

Their eyes flashed at the same time. Something dark. Hungry

And the heat in them was so sharp, so focused, that your body trembled from the inside out. You close your eyes for a second, trying to breathe, but it doesn’t help. 

When you opened them again, their faces were soft. Friendly. Innocent.

Like nothing happened.

Like you imagined it all.

You almost believe it until Baby’s lips twitch into something that might be a smirk.

Thankfully, the waitress returns with the drinks, offering you a brief, blessed distraction. You lift the glass to your lips quickly, if only to keep your hands from shaking. The coffee is sweet, just the way you like it.

You could do this.

You should try again.

“Wh-what did you want to talk about?” you asked.

Jinu leaned forward, mouth parting to answer.

But the words never came.

Because in the very next second, the moment was shattered.

It happened too fast to stop.

A clatter—loud and sharp—snapped through the soft hum of the café. You barely had time to turn your head before the tray slipped from a passing server’s hands, the drinks tumbling, tipping, and splashing over the edge of the table.

Iced coffee. Sticky syrup. Cold liquid splattering across your lap and down your thighs.

Your gasp caught sharp in your throat as you jerked back in surprise, the chill shocking your senses. The spill hit you more than anyone else, seeping through the fabric of your skirt, clinging to your skin.

They moved faster than the panic.

“Shit,” Baby growled, the word rough and low. He shoved back from the booth, the sudden movement drawing startled glances but he didn’t care. In a blink, he was at your side, eyes blazing. His gaze slid to the offender with something lethal in it, but all his energy shifted instantly back to you. One hand went immediately to your back, the other pulling his jacket off in one fluid motion to shield you from the stares now aimed at your table.

Jinu was already out of his seat, his body crouched at your side with a speed that made the room blur. His hands hovered at your waist, trembling with the restraint not to touch, not to pull you close. His gaze swept over you—sharp, assessing, furious—before softening in the next breath as his focus landed fully on your face.

“Are you hurt?” His voice was velvet and cracked fire, intimate and frantic all at once. His hand reached for a napkin on the table, but his eyes never left yours. “Where did it get you, baby? Did any of it burn?”

“I’m okay,” you stammered, breathless, blinking up at them. “It’s just—cold. It surprised me.”

But they didn’t relax.

“You’re soaked,” Jinu whispered, gaze flicking down to where the wet fabric clung to your thighs. His throat bobbed, and for a moment, something darker flashed behind his eyes—need. 

His voice dropped low, coaxing and sinful as his hand hovered just above your thigh. “You’re so wet, baby. Let us help you.”

The sound of it cracked straight down your spine.

He guided your leg toward him with quiet ease, adjusting you just enough so he could reach where the spill is.

The cloth touched your skin in slow, dragging strokes. Each pass was deliberate, lingering like he couldn’t bring himself to stop. The cold drink had soaked through, but all you could feel was heat—his fingers, his palm, his breath when he leaned in slightly to see what he was doing.

His other hand smoothed along your thigh, gentle but firm, moving in slow, steady lines that made your breath catch. His thumb drew soft circles near your knee, easing upward, trailing heat as it moved. 

The fabric of your skirt clung to your damp skin, and when he reached the edge of it, he paused. His fingers grazed beneath, the lightest brush against the inside of your thigh. You swore he trembled. His other hand rose to your waist, grounding you with the softest squeeze, pulling you closer. Closer than you already were.

He didn’t look at you right away. His focus stayed on your leg, as if watching his own hands kept him in control. But when his gaze finally lifted, it was heavy and dark. For the briefest moment, gold flickered in his eyes—slit and sharp—before he blinked it away. 

“Cold baby?” he asked, voice low and rough. His thumb stroked once more, just under the hem of your skirt. “Let me warm you up.”

You forced a breath, looking at him.

“You okay sweetheart?” Baby’s voice came from beside your ear, deep and honey-slicked, and your skin prickled beneath the sound of it. He leaned over, draping his jacket across your lap, shielding you with something warm and masculine, something that smelled like him. “Some people are just clumsy, huh?”

​​The server stammered an apology, cheeks flushed with panic, but the boys didn’t even blink. Their focus never left you. Even when they sat down again, the atmosphere didn’t settle—it only thickened.

Jinu leaned forward, arms resting on the table, voice softer now. “The staff told us you weren’t going to accept the offer,”

You nodded slowly, eyes locked on the napkin twisting in your fingers. You didn’t look at him. You couldn’t.

“I’m sorry.”

Your breath caught.

“For how we acted,” he added, the words spoken with such care, it made your heart ache. “At the interview. I know it might’ve been overwhelming. I just… I need to know. Was it because of that? Is that why you don’t want the job?”

You shook your head quickly, grasping for the nearest excuse.  “No, I… I just didn’t think I was the right fit,” you lied gently. “I didn’t want to get in anyone’s way.”

Baby leaned forward now too, resting his chin on his hand as he studied you. There was no smirk this time, no teasing flicker in his eye. Just quiet intensity, like he was waiting to catch something slipping between your words.

Something passed between them. A silent exchange. 

“Still…” Baby drawled, his voice low and lazy, his eyes tracing every inch of your face, “we were hoping we could change your mind.”

“Convince you,” Jinu added, smiling now, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Not fully. “To give us a chance.”

The word us lingered longer than it should have.

“We don’t want to pressure you,” Baby said, his tone quieter than usual. “But we’re not letting you walk away without trying.”

Jinu leaned forward again, so close now that his scent brushed your skin—warm musk and something rich. And then his eyes dropped to your lips. Just for a second. Barely long enough to notice. But you caught it.

“Just try it,” he murmured. “The job. Us.” His voice was velvet and smoke, threading around your spine. “All we’re asking for is a chance.”

A pause.

Baby leaned in too. “One day,” he whispered, voice brushing your ear like heat. “Just one. Try us.”

The buzzing in your chest returned, fierce and electric, spilling like wildfire through every inch of your body. It pulsed beneath your skin and curled hot in your belly. And even as your rational mind clawed desperately at the reasons you came here to say no—your heart… your body… were already leaning in. 

Suddenly, the idea of saying no felt impossible.

♪♫•¨•.¸¸❤¸¸.•¨•♫♪•¨•.¸¸❤¸¸.•¨•♫♪

“So wet for me baby”

Jinu’s lips were the first thing you felt.

Soft. Searching. Devouring in the slowest way possible.

He kissed down the slope of your neck like he was tracing a path he already knew by heart, pressing his mouth to every inch of exposed skin like he needed to memorize the taste. His hand cradled your jaw, tilting your head for better access as his tongue flicked just beneath your ear, dragging a whimper from your throat.

“You feel this baby?” he murmured against your skin, voice like molten velvet. “It's for me. Isn’t it?”

You couldn’t breathe. Your hands curled into the sheets, knuckles white, chest heaving with the effort to stay grounded. But there was nothing grounding about Jinu not when he kissed lower, down to your collarbone, your shoulder, the top of your chest, teeth grazing now and then like he was claiming as much as he was worshipping.

Then you felt it.

Movement beneath you. A shift. A second warmth.

Fingers sliding along the backs of your thighs. Strong, unhurried. 

His hands slid beneath you, one gripping your hips, the other spreading along your inner thigh like he was easing you open just for him. 

“Mmh…”  Baby’s voice came from below, deep and husky. “You’re always so responsive. Such a good girl when we touch you.”

His hands slid higher, smoothing over your skin like he had all the time in the world. “That’s it angel,” he whispered, lips brushing the inside of your thigh. “Let us take care of you.”

Baby’s mouth replaced his hands. His hands pinned your thighs apart with gentle force, fingers digging into your skin just enough to remind you who was in control. His tongue licked into you with devastating precision, and every groan he made sent aftershocks up your core.

The moment his tongue dragged along you, your back arched, a soft cry slipping from your lips before you could stop it. 

Your fingers tangled in his hair before you even realized it. The moment your hips bucked toward his mouth, your hand dove down, curling into those soft dark strands. You weren’t pulling him closer. You were holding on, like he was the only thing tethering you to earth. And he groaned when you did—low and wrecked—like the act of you clinging to him drove him wild.

Jinu chuckled behind you, his voice smooth and dark beside your ear. “So sensitive baby,” he whispered, brushing your hair back. “Look at you…” His fingers trailed down your arm, slow and affectionate, before tipping your chin down. 

You whimpered, hips jerking slightly against Baby’s mouth.

He bit lightly at your neck, then soothed the spot with his tongue. “You should thank him, baby. He’s being so good for you.”

Your voice was broken when it came out. Barely a whisper. But it made Baby moan against you, his tongue flattening, then curling just right—and your fingers gripped his hair tighter.

“Look at him,” Jinu murmured, his hand slipping under your jaw. “Let him see how good he’s making you feel.”

Your eyes fluttered open, dazed and glassy—and then you looked down.

Baby stared up at you from between your thighs.

Your breath caught.

His golden eyes gleamed—inhuman and slitted like a predator’s, glowing beneath the dim light. Violet markings laced across his pale skin, curling along his cheekbones and neck, as if his body couldn’t help revealing what he really was when he touched you like this. And his lips… glistened with your slick, mouth parted as he panted against your heat.

You should’ve been afraid.

But you weren’t.

You moaned at the sight of him, body reacting before your mind could catch up. Something deep inside you snapped, unraveling under the sheer possessive hunger in his gaze.

Baby smirked, the look dark and reverent at once. “That’s it sweetheart,” he murmured, licking his lips slowly and shamelessly. “Look at you. All spread out for me. You were made for this. For us.”

Your hips jerked as he dipped lower again, tongue moving with unrelenting purpose.

“Good girl,” Jinu murmured, smiling against your skin as you arched into them both. "So obedient. So good.” He pressed his mouth to your collarbone, then your shoulder, sucking gently until your skin burned. “Ours to touch. Ours to taste. Say it, baby. Let us hear you.”

You could barely form the words, your voice broken and high as Baby’s tongue dragged another cry from your throat.

“That's it baby,” Jinu breathed, kissing the edge of your lips. “So good for us. Let go...cum for us.”

“I can feel you shaking,” Baby growled from below, his grip on your thighs tightening. "You close, babygirl? Hmm? Let me taste it. Let go. Give it to me."

“That’s ittt,” Jinu whispered, his thumb brushing your lips as you gasped. “Such a good girl for us. Just like that… let it all go.”

And you were close—so close—body trembling, vision going hazy as you clung to the sheets, surrounded by their voices, their touch, their hunger.

Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong.

You gasped—eyes snapping open, chest heaving.

You were in bed. Alone.

​​You woke with a damp skin and thighs still clenched. Your hand was fisted in the sheets, your mouth parted—every nerve still buzzing like Jinu’s lips were at your throat and Baby’s mouth still between your legs.

Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong.

The doorbell wouldn’t stop.

You blinked hard, disoriented, pulse racing as you sat up. You scrambled off the bed and rushed to the mirror. Your lips were swollen. Your neck was flushed, tinged faintly red, like marks had almost been left behind. You ran your fingers through your hair, tried to fix the way your nightshirt clung to your damp skin. You couldn’t look at yourself too long—you still felt like you were being watched.

Like their eyes were still on you.

Another chime of the doorbell.

You opened the door, breath caught somewhere between your chest and your throat.

A delivery man stood there, silent, holding out a neatly tied paper bag and a wrapped bouquet of flowers. You blinked.

The scent hits you before anything else—warm, soft, and dizzyingly familiar.

“Delivery,” he said, handing them over without a smile.

No sender listed.

You thanked him, voice barely working.

You shut the door gently, clutching both in your arms like they might vanish if you breathed too hard. You set them down and unfolded the bouquet—then froze.

You knew these flowers.

The pale blue and white blossoms, the violet accents tucked between the green. They weren’t common. Not at all. You had studied them once, years ago, when you used to obsess over the secret meanings in petals and colors.

Loyalty. 

Longing.

 Hidden devotion.

 Love deeper than words.

Your stomach flipped.

They were the kind of flowers one sent when words weren’t enough. The kind meant for soul-deep connections. Eternal bonds. Unspoken promises.

Inside the bag is your favorite food but it was the folded note tucked beneath it that made your breath catch.

You opened it slowly. Handwritten.

“Eat up, baby girl. You’ll need your strength back.”

Your stomach fluttered.

No signature. No mark.

But your soul knew.

You didn’t know if it was a dream.

But your legs still trembled.

And your heart knew exactly who sent it.

♪♫•¨•.¸¸❤¸¸.•¨•♫♪•¨•.¸¸❤¸¸.•¨•♫♪

The lights were low in the studio lounge, casting golden shadows across the leather couches. 

The air wasn’t calm—it was pulsing. 

Thrumming. 

Tense with something unspoken and thick as smoke.

Jinu lounged back on the couch, sleeves rolled up, collar open, a lazy smirk pulling at his lips. Beside him was Baby sprawled like a sin, his shirt unbuttoned halfway, chest rising slowly, eyes hooded and gleaming. He hadn’t fully come down. Not from her.

“You bastards,” Romance muttered first, tossing a cushion toward Baby’s head. “You actually did it.”

Baby caught it mid-air without flinching, didn’t even blink. “Define did it.”

“You know exactly what we mean,” Mystery drawled, narrowed eyes flicking from Baby to Jinu. “We all felt it. The bond flared.”

“You invaded her dream,” Romance said with a low groan. “Not just one of you—both of you. Together. Do you know how unfair that is?”

“She wanted it,” Baby said simply. “Every sound she made. The way she clung to me—gods, I can still feel her fingers fisting my hair.”

Romance groaned, throwing his head back against the couch dramatically. “Fucking hell. I knew it. The bond spiked so hard last night I thought I was going to lose my damn mind.”

“I felt it too,” Abby muttered, pacing. “My head was burning. My chest wouldn’t stop aching. You two were practically feeding off her.”

Jinu just smiled. “She offered herself to us.”

“Did she agree?” Mystery cut in, eyes sharp now. “To be our manager?”

Baby’s tongue darted across his teeth, golden eyes gleaming faintly. “Not with words. But her body already has. Her soul’s nearly there. She’s teetering.”

“How did it feel?” Abby asked, quietly this time.

Jinu’s eyes went half-lidded. “Like we were sinking into something we’ve been starving for. Like her soul opened to us.”

Baby gave a sharp, low exhale, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “It was better than feeding. Better than killing. I’d starve for a hundred years if it meant tasting her like that again.”

“You two are so fucking lucky,” Abby muttered.

They couldn’t wait to see her again.

Couldn’t wait to have her.

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @rivainimermaid @reni502 @reinabxitch @shynotded @vgamegeek @tediouslyboredoflife @hornehlittleweeblet2 @prorpy @ncitytrends @venommie @jadeloverxd @thebestestkiwi @cami1qx @silver-rin @alicelinxs @omgsuperstarg @zuoran03 @cloudfxvrs @luna-solaris-0505 @amery-benson-cvii @airwolf92 @selenescribes @lasa27 @luscinya @nuggetwillwin @shadyplaidwagonmuffin @yogirl-willow @call-me-nyxx  @stormy88746 @ikykwkleeknowwww @gremlinartstudio @strawberry-moonpies @anduinandwrathionlover @killerseal-04-main-blog @luna-looniesblog @purplechaosgoatees @1950schick @prettygirlkiki @libdarkheart @yuhuahuaaa @d1gital-data @nevermorekisses @bbyongminglvr @error-raccoon-404 @nakahara61-blog @crazyfor230 @bigchungusdrinksspritecranberry @calmmell @satansdaughter123 @shinebright2000

hope you guys like it!

[ara2gr3y]

Gottem

you stopped scrolling.

[ara2gr3y]

sweet dream

☾ ｡🪼｡⋆ ⊹₊ KPOP DEMON HUNTERS- "𝖫𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌, 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌"

━━ Ever since you were a kid, all you wanted was to be cared for.

"𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽… 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍, 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍?"

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚★⋆｡˚ ⋆ ┊ ┊ ┊ ⋆ ┊ ┊ ★⋆ ┊ ◦ ★⋆ ┊ . ˚ ˚★

"𝖶𝗁𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖨 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽?"

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

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

[ara2gr3y]

Bound to Them

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 1: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰

𝐒𝐚𝐣𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

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

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

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

—𝑬𝒎𝒓𝒚𝒔 🖤

w/c: 4k

comments and reblogs would be appreciated!

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

Click.

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

Then it’s just you… and the door.

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

The silence. The pressure.

You already know who’s waiting.

The Saja Boys.

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

Unreachable. 

Unstoppable. 

Too perfect to be human.

You take a breath as the door opens.

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

And suddenly, you feel it.

Something shifts

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

They felt her.

And it nearly destroyed their restraint.

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

But the moment your foot crosses the threshold—

Five heads turn.

Five bodies go still.

And then— The scent hits them.

You.

Soft. Warm. Theirs.

The bond snaps tight.

Jinu is the first to react.

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

Because you were standing in front of him.

Soft. Radiant. Meant for him.

Theirs.

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

Not when you were standing there like that.

Not when his control was already this close to snapping.

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

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

His nostrils flare once.

And then—

He purrs.

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

The bond is hitting too fast. Too hard.

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t finish.

Doesn’t need to.

The way his fingers linger at his waistband says enough.

“Why do I want to devour her?”

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

Quieter, but deeper.

Hungrier.

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

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

And Mystery?

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

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

He breathes in once.

Then purrs.

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

“Mate,” he croaks. “Mine.”

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

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

Your pulse flutters. Your breath trembles.

Still, you try.

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

But the second your voice breaks the silence—

The sound shatters them.

They all inhale. Hard.

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

You blink. Your cheeks flush.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And his claws?

They’re still embedded in the couch.

Because if they weren’t…

They’d be on you.

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

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

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

He looks starved.

And Jinu…

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

They don't blink.

They don't breathe.

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

You shift slightly, heart stuttering.

Their stares don’t just watch.

They burn.

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

You flinch.

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

You didn't mean to react.

But gods—you did.

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

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

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

Your soul knows.

Your pulse flutters so hard it aches.

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

You can’t finish. Your voice fails.

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

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

You didn’t mean to react. 

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

And they noticed it.

The world… snaps.

The change is immediate. Violent. Silent.

Jinu doesn’t speak.

He turns.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

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

Romance’s smirk drops.

His head tilts. His eyes go cold.

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

Mystery growls.

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

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

What… what are they?

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

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

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

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

Back off.

You can't move. You can barely breathe.

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

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

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

You love it.

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

“Everyone out,” he says.

Silence.

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

The manager hesitates. Opens his mouth. Closes it.

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

And the second the door clicks shut—

Silence returns.

But now… it's heavier. Hotter.

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

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

Not with their fans.

Not with their fame.

With something deeper.

Darker.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Romance moved first.

Not fast. Not reckless.

Predatory.

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

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

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

Then lower—closer

“This mouth…”

His thumb grazed your bottom lip.

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

You try to step back.

But there’s no room.

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

His palm slid over your waist.

Slow. 

Possessive.

Intentional.

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

He leaned in. His breath kissed your neck. “She smells too fucking good,” he growls, almost pained.

His lips grazed your skin. A feather-soft press. Like he needed to memorize you by taste.

You whimper

The smallest sound. A breath, barely audible.

But it’s enough.

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

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

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

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

And then they purred.

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

And your mind?

Your mind is no longer safe.

You were made for them.

You belong to them.

You gasped.

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

Your knees buckled—and Abby caught you.

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

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

You didn’t understand what was happening.

Why your body was so aware of theirs.

Why your chest ached.

Behind Romance, Mystery shifts.

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

“She’s submitting,” he rasps, voice ragged. “She doesn’t even know it yet.”

Romance hums low in his throat close to a purr.  “Oh, she knows. Look at her.”

His fingers trail down your throat again, slower this time. Teasing. Taunting “Her body knows who she belongs to. Look at her. She likes it.”

The pressure is building. Your thighs squeeze together. You’re burning from the inside out and the only thing that will fix it is them.

And in your mind—

Something curls. Something gives in.

Be a good girl for them.

Let go.

You’re already theirs.

And then you say it.

Soft. Broken. Barely a whisper.

“Please.”

Every single one of them reacts.

Romance lets out a trembling exhale, teeth flashing behind his parted lips. “That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, lips parting in awe. “Good girl… give us more of that.”

Abby freezes behind you, fingers pressing tighter into your waist like he's anchoring himself to your skin.

Baby flinches. His shoulders tense, and for a second—just a second—something in his skin glows. Flickers. Twitches.

You see something dark shimmer beneath the surface. Something barely restrained.“Shit,” he hisses. “They’re triggering it.”

Baby’s jaw is tight, his golden eyes sharp and gleaming.

He doesn’t touch you. Not yet.

But he watches you like you’re already his to ruin.

“More,” Mystery hisses. His voice is low, feral, close. Too close. You don’t know when he moved behind you, but now you feel him. His heat. His breath. The sharp scrape of claw grazing your hip. “Let her make that sound again.”

Romance’s hands hover at your waist, trembling with restraint. “Do it again, baby,” he purrs, voice thick. “Be a good girl for us. Let us hear what we do to you.”

Abby leans in, lips brushing the curve of your neck so softly it steals your breath. “Beg, pretty girl,” he growls into your skin. “Come on. Give it to us.”

Your thighs press together, involuntarily. Your breath shudders.

“P-Please—” you choke, voice breaking as your lashes flutter. You don’t even know what you’re asking for anymore. Just that you need it.

Abby buries his face in your hair. “Fuck, she’s perfect,” he growls. “She doesn’t even know what that word does to us.”

Romance groans like it physically hurts.

He drags one hand up to cup your jaw, tilting your head just enough for his lips to hover by yours—so close, so warm. Not kissing. Just owning the space around you.

“Please what?”

Baby steps closer, suddenly in front of you, his voice velvet and burning. “Say it again, sweetheart.” His eyes lock onto yours, pupils blown wide. “Say what you’re begging for.”

You can’t look at him.

You can’t look at any of them.

“I—” You swallow. “I don’t know what’s happening. I just—please…”

You whimper again, soft and desperate.

And it breaks something.

Romance makes a low, pained sound like it hurts to hold back. “Fuck. She’s begging.”

“I can’t take it,” Abby growls, low and raw, and buries his face in your neck like he’s seconds from sinking his teeth in. “She smells like she wants us to ruin her.”

“She does,” Mystery rumbles, his voice raw. “She wants it. She wants us.”

And then you hear it.

Them.

All of them.

Purring.

Low. Vibrational. Possessive.

It rolls from their chests like thunder held on a leash. The kind of sound that wraps around your spine and makes you tremble.

You melt.

Jinu hasn’t moved from the center of the room. But his jaw is clenched, and his golden eyes are molten. “She’s trembling,” he says. “Don’t make her afraid.”

“She’s not afraid,” Abby murmurs. “She’s aroused.”

And gods, you are.

You wish they were wrong.

You wish your thighs weren’t pressed together, your skin flushed and burning.

But they know.

They feel it.

And when Romance finally dips low enough to brush his lips against your shoulder—

You let out the softest, most desperate little moan that’s ever left your throat.

And that’s the end of it.

Their composure cracks.

“Shit,” Abby snarls, stepping in tighter against you, practically caging you with his heat.

“You keep making that sound,” Romance murmurs, voice thick with restraint as he leans in. His lips brush beneath your ear, soft and deliberate. “And we’re going to lose it.”

He presses a kiss just under your jaw. Then another, slower, lower—trailing heat along your throat. Not your lips. Not yet.

His hand cradles the back of your neck, firm and possessive. “Is that what you want, pretty girl?” he breathes against your skin. “To see what happens when we stop holding back?”

“No,” you whisper.

Yes.

Mystery growls—the real kind this time, low and guttural. “Good girl,” he murmurs. “Already learning how to submit.

“Say it,” Baby commands, his voice rough now. “Say you’re ours.”

The bond tightens like a noose.

You’re burning.

And that’s when Jinu snaps.

You hear the sound before you see it—wood tearing as his claws split through the polished table.

A warning. A command. A fight for control.

“Control yourselves.”he growls, voice dark and shaking. “She’s not ready.”

But you are.

Your body is. Your soul is.

It’s just your nerves that falter.

Your hands tremble when Abby presses close, his chest firm against your back. His breath ghosts over your skin, ragged with restraint, lips hovering just above your neck.

“She was made for this,” he growls, low and aching. “Made to beg. Made to be ours.”

He dips his head—and kisses you.

Slow.

Possessive.

Right beneath your ear.

“Our girl.”

At the same time, Romance steps in close from the front, his fingers cradling your jaw, tilting your chin up for him like you already belong to him. “To be kissed,” he whispers, eyes flicking over every inch of your face like it’s sacred. “To be worshipped.”

“Ours.”

He dips down—not to your lips—but to your throat.

He kisses there first. Then lower.

Across your collarbone.

Your shoulder.

Their mouths move over you in sync—Abby breathing you in behind your ear, Romance trailing heat over your chest, your neck, your jawline. Like you’re something holy. Something that belongs to them.

And you do.

Your mouth parts. The word nearly falls.

You want them. Gods, you want them.

But five bodies. Five voices. Their scents wrapping around you like velvet chains.

The heat. The hunger. 

The bond pulling tighter, tighter—

You’re drowning in them. And you love it.

But your body… can’t take it.

The room closes in. Your chest tightens.

Your body says yes.

Your soul says yes.

But your nerves scream “run.”

You step back again. They feel like fire closing in around you. You barely know them, but your body is already reacting—bonding. “Wait,” you breathe, backing up a step. “I—I need a second—”

Romance’s smile falters. Abby’s fingers twitch.

“Don’t run,” Baby murmurs, his arms are crossed, but his eyes track every breath you take. He shifts like he might move—like he wants to move.

“We won’t hurt you,” Romance says softly. His voice is almost pleading. “Just… don’t leave yet.”

You’re shaking. “I can’t—” you breathe, voice small. “I need to leave.”

And then—before anyone can stop you— You turn.

And you run.

You push past Romance’s arm. Your shoulder brushes his chest. He lets you go, jaw tight, muscles taut like a held scream.

You make it to the door. You reach for the handle—

And behind you, everything erupts.

They move instantly.

“Wait—” Abby’s voice is sharper now, almost a growl. “Where are you—”

Romance reaches for you. Mystery flinches forward.

And then—

“Stop.”

Jinu’s voice cuts through everything like a blade dipped in ice.

Everything freezes.

Even the air feels still—held, tense, burning.

Abby growls. Romance drags both hands through his hair and curses.

Mystery lets out a guttural purr, his claws twitching as he watches the door close behind you.

Baby just exhales sharply, eyes still locked on where you stood. 

“Let her.” Jinu’s voice is calm. Too calm.

A storm held behind golden eyes.

Silence descends.

Heavy.

Trembling.

Abby’s fists curl. His jaw ticks, breath ragged. “She was—she was about to beg again.”

“She was ours in that moment,” Romance snarls, pacing like he’s seconds from shifting. “Her voice—fuck, that sound—do you know what that did to me?”

Mystery hasn’t moved.

But his golden eyes glow with a slow, simmering burn.

His voice, when it comes, is hoarse. Strained. “She ran.”

Baby doesn’t speak. He just watches the door like he can see through it. Like any second she’ll come back through it and throw herself into their arms.

His hands tremble at his sides.

“Let her breathe,” Jinu says quietly—but there’s nothing calm in him anymore. His voice is tight. Controlled. Dangerous. “She doesn’t understand what’s happening yet. But she will.”

No one speaks.

“She’s ours. You smelled it. You felt it. So did she.”  His jaw clenches. His voice dips “And if you chase her now, she’ll run harder.”

Romance paces, frustrated. “She wanted it. She was trembling. You saw her. She was seconds from falling apart for us.”

Abby’s voice is broken. Barely held together. “She made that sound,” he grits out, eyes wide and wild. “That sound that’s going to haunt me. That little whimper. That plea. She gave it to us. And now I can’t fucking breathe without hearing it again.”

They fall silent again.

Not because there’s nothing more to say—

But because the bond has already said it.

Because they can still feel her.

Out in the hallway.

Running.

But tethered.

Tangled.

The bond never breaks. It just tightens.

And gods, she feels it too.

You lean against the wall just out of view, gasping softly, hand to your chest like you’re trying to keep your heart from tearing through your ribs.

They're still inside.

And you feel them.

Their tension. Their desire. Their claim.

Like invisible fingers wrapped around your ribs, pulling.

Their voices echo in your memory.

Say it. 

Beg for it.

Be a good girl for us.

You’re ours now.

Your lips part. Your chest rises. You can barely breathe.

You should be terrified.

But you’re not.

A part of you—deep and trembling and starving—wants to turn around, throw the door open, fall to your knees and whisper what they’ve been aching to hear.

I’m yours.

Back inside, Mystery stiffens.

He lifts his head slowly, golden eyes glowing.

“…She’s still close,” he murmurs, voice hoarse. “I can feel her. She didn’t leave.”

Jinu’s jaw is locked tight, but the burn in his eyes betrays him. His voice is cold steel wrapped in heat. “She will,” he says. “She’ll try to run. But she’ll crawl back.”

A pause.

“And when she does…”

Abby smiles—slow and terrifying. “We won’t let her leave”

“The bond has already begun,” Jinu says quietly, stepping toward them. “She’s tangled in it as deeply as we are.”

His canines flash. “She feels it too. I know she does.”

This time, no one stops smiling.

No one pretends.

Romance steps toward the door and rests his palm against it, eyes fluttering shut like he’s praying.

But there’s nothing innocent in the prayer. Just hunger.

“When she comes back,” he says softly, “we take her.”

Abby growls deep in his chest. “No more soft touches. No more teasing her with what we could give.” He steps forward, voice dark with promise. “Next time, she gets everything.”

A low, rumbling purr vibrates from Baby’s chest. “Everything she begged for,” he murmurs, voice like silk-wrapped sin. “And everything her pretty little body’s still too shy to admit it needs.”

Jinu turns, his golden eyes flickering with something dark and endless.

“No matter how far she runs…”

His lips curve—not a smile. Something deeper. Hungrier. Fated.

“…she’s already ours.”

A beat.

A breath.

Then, lower—richer—deadly tender

“And we’ve been hers from the second she stepped into this room.”

They don’t chase.

Not tonight.

But the heat of their restraint crackles in the air like lightning about to strike. Their bodies are tight with the need to move. Their teeth ache to sink in. Their hands are still open, waiting—aching—to feel you again.

And when you come back—because you will—

they’ll be ready.

Not to ask. Not to beg.

To claim.

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