dex0s

[dex0s]

I can’t find it but I get all my panels from myreadingmanga (crazy website btw) and I just take a screenshot (if that author allows it).

But I hate using it due to the fact you get flash every second 🫩 it’s a war on that damn website

do u perchance know where the panel of your most recent fic comes from ? the header panel . . . curious abt it

I have it on the tip of my tongue, I’ll see if I can find it and if I do I’ll repost this with the name!

[dex0s]

do u perchance know where the panel of your most recent fic comes from ? the header panel . . . curious abt it

I have it on the tip of my tongue, I’ll see if I can find it and if I do I’ll repost this with the name!

[dex0s]

SLUMBER PARTY !GET YO FREAK ON!

PEAK-IN: Who said that humans are the only thing you can fuck or get fucked by?

PAIRINGS (separate): Gojo x reader, Geto x reader, Toji x reader, Sukuna x reader

WARNINGS: pure smut/little plot, reader is a top (only in Suguru's part b/c I said so), wrote this with a male reader in mind, tho didn't use (he/him), monster fucking, Geto having a cunt, Bottom Geto, reader will have a dick (Suguru part only), double cocks (Sukuna only), cockwarming, teasing, mainly bottom reader, not proofread and more

WORD COUNT: 500ish per monster(s) 2k+ in total

(A/n): oh yea I’m going back to my old ways real quick *insert a evil smirking emoji* (I wrote this with a dr pepper in my hand) + adding Choso and Nanami soon

GOJO (NAGA)

Yeah, sure, having a snake as a boyfriend is cool and all, but when his rut hits. god good luck with your hips.

“Who would have guessed that humans~ have amazing breeding holes” a slimy tail is curled around your waist as if to suffocate you. Satoru takes out his sticky fingers from your hole.

“Ah~ w-wait—no” you try to move your hips to get back the feeling of being full.

“Oh, don’t worry~ you’ll have your filling soon enough.” Satoru pets your ass before taking his rough hands to spread your ass to see your hole clench around nothing.

He lets his cock slip out of the slit, taking his cocks and he starts teasing your red hole. “Ohh~ shit— that’s not going to fit” you try not to moan while getting your sentence out.

“But you’re soo~ wet, you’re practically calling for me to shove my cock in you.” You're basically killing him with how wet you were. Not caring if you get hurt, Satoru thrusts his hips forward. Causing your body to fly forward.

“Ohh— fuck you are so~ tight” your eyes roll back into your head; you shove your head on the long slippery tail that’s making it way to your mouth.

“You’re too big, Toru— “you feel your breath being taken away with each thrust he gives to your backside. You try to slow him down by placing a hand on his hips to at least have him stop having your body inch a little more from him, hammering your guts.

"Yet you seem to be taking me so well."

He continues to slam into you fast and hard, causing that mind of yours to slowly turn into mush. Seeing your mouth wide open, Satoru takes the chance to ram the tip of his tail in your pretty mouth.

"Mm--" tears roll down your face as you let drool fall out of your mouth. Satoru yanks up your hair, having you arch your back, letting him hit, deeper and deeper.

"Do you feel me--oh fuck you feel so good my sweetheart~!" Satoru's voice trembles as you feel too good to be true, and your arching is not helping. He leans down to your ear, whimpering, "Oooh baby~ you feel so good--Fuck! you and your gummy walls."

"imgonnacum-- oh Toru!" You can't keep up with the ramming of your backside, legs trembling, hair stuck to your face. You can feel yourself about to blow.

"y-you like that, don't you, whore." He pants as his jaw tightens, his teeth ready to bite at anything close. He pulls you back deep into his hips, "Oh, I'm going to fill you up, snakelet-- hell, you're going to be a mama uh" He starts slowing down, letting his cock tear your insides. Balls slapping against your ass as they build up with his cum.

sobbing at this point, you cry out "please" to have him cum inside already. "Please," Satoru mocked you. You can feel his smirk on your shoulder as he's plowing you.

He gives you one last moan in your ear before finally letting out his warm cum dump all in your hole. Dizzy now, you try to break free of his hold.

"Ah, ah, ah, where do you think you're going~ you didn't even cum yet, silly." Satoru pulls you back into his arms, granting you a tight squeeze. "Besides, I have make sure that hole of yours is filled up fully."

GETO (MERMAID)

"This is... weird. If I have a say in this." Suguru peers down, seeing human legs. You blush and take one of your hands to cover half of your face due to the view you are looking at. "What? Is there something wrong..." Suguru’s eyes tear up a little, thinking that you think he looks disgusting.

"No! no, nothing is wrong, it's just..." You pause for a moment, Suguru takes this pause as a chance to talk, "Then what is wrong? Why do you look so surprised." Suguru lets his voice go soft and low.

"It's just you have a pussy, not a dick... It just took me by surprise!" You quickly let him know to not hurt any more of his feelings. "Oh— I thought it was normal, it's not like I know the human anatomy," he whispered that last part, so you didn't hear him. Then, Suguru feels something wet between his legs. Looking down, he sees his cunt all wet. Taking one of his hands he spread his pussy lips flashing you.

"Ah! wait— don't do that in front of me!" You shout at him with your back facing towards him. Blushing even harder, you feel your bulge start to grow. Feeling something grabs your leg, you look down, seeing Suguru getting off to your foot.

"Mhm~ oh please just fuck me," Suguru whines into your leg as your shoe gets soaked from his wetness. You hesitate for a second, but seeing poor Suguru trying to cum on your shoe, you decide to help him.

Taking him off your shoe, he whines, not being able to cum. You set him on your lap, having his back to your chest. Using one hand and leg to open him up. You circle around his cunt to tease him a little.

"I—oh god— please fill me up." Suguru lets his head fall on your neck. He pushes his hips up to have your fingers touch his dripping pussy. Granting his wishes, you insert to fingers in the tight cunt.

"letmecum— can I cum" Suguru lets his head view the sight of his filthy hole that your fingers. But before he can cum in your hand, you pull back, "No—no, why" Suguru flashes his tearful face to you, and all you do is smile down at him, loving the expression he is giving you.

Taking your cock out, you thrust your hip, letting your cock only rub up on him. "Beg. Beg for my cock and then you can cum" whispering in his ear before wrapping your arms around his waist, rocking him side to side.

"I'm sorry— fuck please, please fuck me. oh, my lord." He pants, feeling all hot inside, yet not knowing what it means, but you are or were helping before you stopped. "Just... just help me stop this hot and wet feeling, please," Suguru moans.

Not wanting to see him suffer any longer, you allow your cock to ram in his guts. "AaH!" Suguru makes a girly-like scream, he places a hand on his stomach before pushing on it, allowing him to feel your cock bruise his insides.

Biting his neck, you move him down to only have his ass in the air. The way you fit so perfectly in him makes him fall in love with you and your cock. It makes him feel like you only belong to him and no one else.

"God— this pussy is so good to me." Licking up and down his neck, you let yourself go wild on his boy-pussy. "Are you going to be a good boy and cum for me?" He nods without thinking, being in a haze, having his gummy wall tighten with each rock of your hips.

"Cum! ohh~ I'm gonna cum~!" feeling your own cock twitch, you let out your piece of energy before filling him up with your hot white seed making Suguru cum with you.

Pulling out, you flop on the side of him, closing your eyes. "Why did you stop?" Opening your eye, Suguru is leaning over you with heart eyes. "I want all your seed in my pussy, second round?"

TOJI (HELLHOUND)

You thought you would just be watching a movie with Toji, not having your legs trembling, while cockwarming the hellhound.

“Quit moving, doll,” Toji growls in your ear, having you freeze up. Smirking down at you, he purrs in satisfaction.

You breathe hard, seeing the bulge of his cock in your stomach. Trying to feel some release, you move to pleasure yourself.

“Ah— we can have that, where’s the fun in having you cum from your hand?” Grabbing your hands, he takes one of his hands to lock your hand behind you.

You attempt to sit there and watch the movie, and at first glance, you were doing fine. However, when Toji noticed, he started to give little thrusts every couple of minutes to keep you on edge.

Now you’re squirming and whining for his attention. “ Toji~ can you move— I don’t care if you go slow.” If you were the one with the dog ears and tail, they would surely be down. At this point, you’re done waiting for him to move, so you let yourself ride him.

Toji grunts as your wall closes tight around his cock, feeling like you're cutting off the circulation of his cock. “Enjoy yourself—uh,” He sneers, seeing how your hole takes his monster of a cock.

“Mhm—this is your fault.” You turn your head a little over your shoulder, looking dead in his eyes. Squeezing your thigh with his rough hands before giving you a deep chuckle.

His dark green eyes face you with a grin, “Fine, you want to play that way.” Folding you in half in his lap, your hand lands on the carpet. "We can play that way," he hooks his arms around your waist, having just his tip in you before slamming down heavy on his cock.

Spit comes flying out of your mouth, your tongue rolls out as Toji breaks you from the inside. Toji groans as he lets his mushroom tip ram your sloppy hole.

"Toji!" you break out into a lewd moan of his name, having his cock press your inside, letting a bulge form with each hit he makes to your puffy hole.

"Shitt-- doll you know how to break a guy's dick uh." He takes a huge chunk of your ass, enjoying the noises your hole makes for him as the thrusts get dirtier, filthy, louder. "It sounds like your friend realllly likes my cock." Even though you can't see him, you know he's grinning like a child in a candy store.

Pulling you back up, He turns you around, so you are facing him. " Are you sorry for ruining the movie now?" Toji raises an eyebrow, watching you bounce up and down his wet cock. You sob, nodding along with his word even though you have one idea on what he is saying.

"I need words, doll." He smirks at you, leaning his face on his arm. Getting fed up with his attitude, you grab both of his dog ears with your last strength. You pull on them, "You fucking dick just let me cu—!"

Tail wagging behind fast, he jerks his hips with his hands gripping your hips. Your body, now jerking from the force, you give him broken moans. "Pulling on my ears like I'm some sick dog." Laughing at you, he lets his teeth show. He watching you fall apart in his arms.

With one last thrust of his cock, both you and him release white sticky cum. Falling on his shoulder, drool falls down as your eyes close in sleepiness.

"Goodnight, doll."

SUKUNA (DRAGON)

"Quit fighting, brat," Sukuna puffed out a little fire in your face, just to scare you a little, so you can quit moving so much. "Again— why are you dressing me up in gold... It's quite heavy," you watch as Sukuna takes yet another gold chain to put around your neck.

Putting his face in your hair, you can hear a little purr. As much as Sukuna would love to take his time teasing you, he just can't help himself. Pulling off your clothes except the gold you are draped in. Sukuna gets right to business.

Shoving one of his cocks in your hole, he let the rub in between your thighs. Plowing into your sloppy hole that already used to have cocks in it. "Mmph— what's w-with the sudden fucking?" Hot air rolls out from his heavy breathing, his claw presses against your stomach to feel one of his cocks stuffing you full.

"Rut..." That's all Sukuna said before furiously ramming your hole, getting it all hot and wet. Curly his body around you while fucking your hole with his cock that is way too big for it.

"S-slow down." You reach up to grab onto his horns, causing a nice arch in your back. "Fuck-- fucking brat, take my cock just like this." Sukuna licked his lips, watching your ass bounce back with his cock.

Slamming his ruthless hips into your ass, having as dick swell up. "More—please, oh my— more~" A pornographic sound rips out from your lungs, wells closing in tightly around Sukuna's dick.

With a flushed face, "Yea— is that what you want, you slut. You want my other cock" His eyes glow a bright ruby color, and sweat drips down his chest onto your back. "Fuck-- Y-you're gonna milk me dry." He quickly tries to hide the choke in his voice.

Lining up his other cock, he pushes in, having a tight squeeze. His eyes roll back as your walls clamp down on him, not allowing him to get far with his second cock. "Quit— you're clamping down too hard." Sukuna bites his lips, feeling both his mushroom tips being crushed.

"Ohh— fill me up- shit" you pull on his horns again, making his head bend down, causing him to growl in your ear. "Fine." Done playing nice, Sukuna rolling his hips back before hammering back into your ass with a force that causes your legs to tremble.

"Mmph! cumming— cumming!" He uses his hand to make you bounce back to his veiny, thick cock. Let his full balls hit your ass, you feel him twitch inside.

He grunts in your ear, feeling you somehow getting tighter than before. Pulsing cock striking your slick entrance, going back and front, not slowing his thrusting for a moment. "You're going to take my cum like the good breeding whore, yea," he growls, rough, leaving your ears tingly. Watching your face turn dumb in drunk pleasure.

Reeling back before stopping, letting his creamy cum to fill up your belly. Leaving a rim of gooeyness around his cocks. Picking you up, not allowing the cocks to slip out, he lays you down on his chest.

"You're lucky I love you, you damn brat," Sukuna sighs, seeing you fast asleep before showing a tiny smile before going to sleep himself.

.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳. ݃ ⣀⣠⠞✿͙⢷ .˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳. ݃

Did I just stay up to finish writing this… yes, yes I did. Goodnight y’all see you guys when I wake up

( ദ്ദി ˙ᗜ˙ ) This is the work of @dex0s please don’t take my work! Love you guys!!!

[dex0s]

REWRITE ON, "DON'T WORRY 'BOUT A THING"

PROLOGUE, ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE , SIX >>> SEVEN

(A/N)— can you find the hidden message? (And for that damn bird that I say in the last chapter the reason for why I was attacked because I was cleaning my garden, and I may or may not have accidentally moved the bird's nest that had ugly baby birds)

Word Count: 2.6K+ WARNING: Yandere tendencies, plot

"(Name)... is that Really you?"

You blink—once, twice—staring at the black-haired demon like he just grew a second head. Your heart skips, throat tightening as your brain scrambles for an emergency exit that doesn't exist.

Option one: Tell the truth. That yes, you are (Name). Pros: You don't have to lie or spin a half-assed story. Cons: You'll havE five demons latching onto you like emotionally unstable barnacles.

Option two: Lie your ass off. Say you're not (Name) and you've never even heard of that name in your life. Pros: There's a 50/50 chance they believe you and walk away. Cons: That other 50%? Yeah, it ends with five pissed-off demons deciding you just restarted their abandonment trauma.

You slowly drag a hand down your face, already regretting the decision you haven't Made yet. Internally, you scream.

'So whatever I pick is still a "fuck you" in the face. Wonderful.'

Your soul sighs. Your pride shrivels.

'Fuck it. LEt's go with option two—50/50.'

'What can go wrong?'

Everything went wrong.

That shit wasn't a 50/50. That was More like a one-in-infinity, with the universe choosing violence just for you.

Now you're stuck in what can only be described as hell. And not the dramatic fire-and-brimstone kind—no, you're in a cramped apartment with five demon-shaped emotional hurricanes, each with a different flavor of clingy insanity.

Romance clings to your side like a needy ex with an IOU note. His Breath ghosts over your ear as he whines dramatically, arms wrapped around you like you're his last lifeline. "(Name)! Why did you leave me—us... yea, us." Like that last part wasn't a cover-up for his possessive meltdown.

Mystery, the walking black cloud, is growling low enough to rattle the air every time someone gets too close—especially when his face ends up buried in your chest like he's trying to imprint on you. His eyes dart around, daring anyone to comment. You don't. You're scared to.

Then there's Abby, the chaos gremlin, casually holding your hand and using it like a personal muscle-admiration tool. HE's guiding your palm up and down his very unnecessary six-pack like you're supposed to be impressed. "You like that, don't you?" he grins, all teeth. "You love that feeling of my abs." He's smiling like the Grinch's gym-obsessed twin.

You stare blankly. 'Ew.' YouR soul is already halfway out the window.

And that's only three of them.

Jinu, that sick smiling freak, is just standing there in the corner—watching. Not saying a word. Not moving. Just sMiling.

That slow, calculated curl of his lips doesn't reach his eyes, which are wide and gleaming with some unspoken thought that makes your skin crawl.

'I bet he has a kink that includes watching peoplE...'

You blink slowly at him, disturbed. There's no way that smile is legal. The longer you look, the more your brain spirals into cursed theories.

'He probably likes weird shit. Like... watching people cry while brushing their teeth or something. Or watching people suffer through small talk. Or worse— group therapy.'

Jinu tilts his head slightly, as if he can hear your thoughts. That smile only gets wider. You break eye contact before your soul leaves your body out of fear.

Then—there's Baby.

Oh god. Baby. The name does not match the chaos.

Baby, the alleged youngest, has somehow claimed your legs, your blanket, and your favorite hoodie—now worn like a war prize. He's laying on your legs like a smug little goblin prince, flipping through your phone with a bored expression, even though you never gave him your passcode.

"You really thought lying was gonna work?" he huMs, glancing up at you with those big, deceptively innocent eyes. "That's cute."

You stare at him, jaw clenching. He giggles. Giggles. It's demonic.

"Also, I ordered pizza with extra meat and used your card. Hope you're not broke or whatever." He says it like he did You a favor.

And now you're standing in the middle of this apartment—your new hell—with five demons who all think you're their emotional support human.

You take a deep breath. 'Next time, I'm Choosing death.'

Before you can even begin your villain arc—mentally plotting elaborate escape routes and maybe arson—Jinu cuts in, his voice smooth enough to make you suspicious.

"We have a show tonight—" he starts, tilting his head just enough for his hair to fall over one eye. "And we thought that you might like to join us."

That smile is still there. That unnerving, slow-burn, predatory smile. The kind that makes you feel like you just signed a contract you never saw. His shadow seems to stretch longer across the floor, curling toward you like it has plans of its own.

You stare up at him, your stomach sinking straight to hell. 'Like I have a choice.'

Romance tightens his grip on your arm as if to say, No, you don't. Mystery's growl rumbles against your chest like an engIne, and Abby winks at you like this is supposed to be fun. Baby doesn't even look up from your phone—he just mutters, "Better dress nice. Cameras love you."

You know why they're taking you to the game show.

It's not for fun. It's not because they like your company.

No—this is a display. A declaration. A public, unshakable cLaim.

You belong to them.

You're not a guest. You're not a friend. You're their toy.

The word crawls across your skin like cold chains, making your stomach twist. But the moment your mind latches onto that thought—being a toy to a demon—heat flares under your skin.

AnD then it happens.

The marks you've tried to ignore for so long—those faint, ancient sigils etched into your flesh—begin to glow. Slowly at first, then brighter, each stroke of gold burning like liquid sunlight under your skin. The lines shimmer in the stage lights, drawing every eye to you.

Romance grins like he's just won the lottery. Mystery's growl turns into a satisfied hum. Abby runs a thumb over the nearest mark like he owns it. Jinu's smile sharpens, watching you like you just proved hIs point. Even Baby finally looks up from his phone, smirking like now the show's worth watching.

"Did I ever tell you, your marks shine so beautifully that it hurts?"

Romance's voice is low, almost reverent, but dripping with that familiar teasing edge. His fingers trail lazily over the glowing lines on your skin, following every curl and curve like he's memorizing them all over again.

You can feel the faint heaT radiating from your marks, the way they pulse under his touch. The gold light flares brighter where his fingertips press, and the air smells faintly of something scorched.

He's burning. You can see the faint redness blooming along his fingertips, the skin already angry from the contact—but he doesn't stop.

If anything, his smile grows wIder.

That slow, dangerous grin, the kind that sayS pain means nothing when it's yours. His eyes flick up to meet yours, dark and greedy.

"Worth every second."

Mystery bury in closer, his growl low and steady like distant thunder. His hand hovers just above your shoulder, close enough for the heat to lick his skin but never quite touching. His gaze is sharp, unblinking, and utterly possessive—like the glow is a beacon calling only to him.

Abby lets out a low whistle, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Damn... you're like a walking treasure chest," he says, leaning in to run his palm boldly across your side. The light flares under his touch, and he grins even wider. "And I'm not sharing."

Jinu doesn't move right away—he just watches. His head tilts, eyes locked on you like he's reading every flicker of light, every twitch of your breath. That slow, unsettling smile spreads across his face, deliberate and knowing. He doesn't need to touch to claim you—his gaze alone feels like a chain.

Baby finally looks up from his phone, smirk curling at the sight. "So this is the real show," he murmurs, snapping a photo without shame. His eyes glint with amusement. "Hope you like trending, sweetheart."

'Calm down, (Name)... you're okay... you're goIng to be fine. Right?'

The words run in your head like a scratched record, but they're not exactly convincing. Your pulse is still a drum in your ears, and every time one of the boys so much as looks at you, your skin feels like it's glowing hotter.

With the boys

Rumir's leaning over the table, eyes narrowed, voice low but sharp enough to cut. "Okay, guys—the Saja bitches have a game show tonight. That's our chance to kill them and then get (Name)."

He says it like a plan that's already set in stone, no room for debate.

Miro leans back in his chair, arms crossed, a dangerous smirk forming. He's already picturing it—blood, chaos, and you safe in their arms.

Zayden, on the other hand, throws his hand up like they're in a classrOom. "Hey, we can use this as a chance to have (Name) fall for us!"

Both Rumir and Miro give him a look, but Zayden barrels on. "Like the heroes in the movies—you know, the ones who save their love just in time? Dramatic music, slow motion, the whole thing." He even mimes catching someone mid-fall, chest puffed out.

There's a beat of silence.

Miro slowly Nods, the smirk returning. "...Not a bad angle."

Rumir sighs, rubbing his temples, but the corner of his mouth betrays the faintest twitch. "Fine. But the second the Saja are gone, we're taking (Name). Hero moment or not."

The three of them exchange a look—part pact, part shared obsession—and just like that, the plan is sealed.

Sitting in one of the dressing rooms—thankfully your own—you finally have a moment of silence. No demons breathing down your neck. No cameras. Just you, the hum of the overhead lights, and the mirror.

You stare at yourself, and the Memories flood in. Huntr/x's cold, calculated stare. The Saja boys, all obsession and chaos. Gwi-ma, whose gaze felt like it could strip you down to your soul.

'Something isn't adding up.'

Your brows knit together.

'Why would demons—shit, why wOuld the demOn king—be interested in me?'

The thought burns. You drop your gaze to your arms, your hands, your skin... and there they are.

The marks. The ones you were born with. Always there, always unexplained, always ignored because the alternative was asking questions no one wanted to answer. You trace your eyes over their familiar shapes, intricate curves that seem almost too perfect, too intentional.

'Now that I think about it... who were my parents?'

You're so lost in thought you almost miss it.

Something shifts—just in the corner of your visioN.

Your breath catches in your throat. Slowly, you turn your head.

And that's when you see them.

Thin, glowing blue lines, curling through the air. They wrap around you, looping over your shoulders, circling your waist—soft, careful, almost like... a hug. The light is gentle, pulsing faintly with each of your heartbeats.

Confusion twists your stomach.

'Why—why is the Honmoon doing this?'

The lines tighten just slightly, their glow warming, like they're answering without words. The reflection in the mirror shifts—the gold of your marks and the blue of the Honmoon intertwining, weaving around each other as if they've known each other forever.

"Who... who are you, and how do you know me?"

The words leave your mouth in a whisper, barely louder than your own breathing. You're not even sure who you expect to answer—if anyone. But the blue lines keep moving, winding over your arms and shoulders in slow, fluid patterns, almost like they're listening.

They pulse once, faintly, in time with your heartbeat. Then again—warmer this time, like a reply you can't quite translate.

Your eyes follow their every curve as they dance across your skin, tracing the edges of your golden marks like they're reading them. The two colors—gold and blue—twist together briefly before the Honmoon's glow spirals upward, brushing the side of your neck in a way that feels almost... familiar.

The sensation sends a shiver down your spine.

They know me, you think, and the realization feels like a weight pressing on your chest. Not in a crushing way, but heavy with meaning—like they've been here before, long before you ever realized it.

The Honmoon's light flickers faintly, then presses close against your palm, as if placing something unseen there. A memory? A promise? You can't tell.

But the warmth lingers, even when you blink and realize... you're still alone in the dressing room.

The Honmoon's glow pulses once, twice—then tightens around you like it's bracing for something.

Before you can ask, the blue lines curl upward, drifting toward your face. One brushes across your temple, and the world around you blurs, the dressing room melting away like paint running in the rain.

In its place... a memory blooms.

You're not you—or maybe you are, but smaller. Younger. The air smells like wildflowers and rain-soaked stone. You're standing in a courtyard bathed in moonlight, the walls around you carved with the same symbols as your marks.

A figure kneels before you, their features hidden in shadow, but the glow of the Honmoon swirls around them just as it does now. The blue lines wrap your tiny hands, tracing each finger as if memorizing them. You hear a voice—low, gentle, full of warmth.

"No matter where you go, I will always find you."

The Honmoon tightens around your child-self's shoulders, the embrace so careful it makes your chest ache. The figure leans closer, whispering something you can't quite catch—just the sound of your name, spoken like a vow.

Then, the scene flickers. The moonlight is gone. The courtyard is burning. That same figure is fighting—shadows and fire everywhere—before the blue lines surge forward, wrapping around you and pulling you away from the chaos.

The memory snaps.

You're back in the dressing room, breath uneven, the Honmoon's lines still wound around you in that same protective hold. They don't speak, but the warmth they leave behind says enough:

They've been here all along. And they've saved you before.

The door flies open so hard it bounces against the wall, and five familiar heads crowd the doorway, eyes scanning the room.

As if startled, the blue lines of the Honmoon recoil in an instant—vanishing so quickly you almost wonder if you imagined them at all. The warmth fades, leaving your skin feeling suddenly bare, exposed.

"Let's go, the game show's about to begin," Abby says, striding in like he owns the place. Before you can even get up on your own, he's already scooping you from the chair, his grip firm but not exactly gentle.

He sets you on your feet, but his arm stays locked around your shoulders like a living restraint.

"It's time to show everyone who really owns you." His voice is casual, but his eyes flash with that dangerous pride.

From behind him, Baby steps forward, grinning like the devil in a candy store. Without a shred of hesitation, he pulls the same lollipop from his mouth—still glistening—and presses it past your lips.

"Share, sweetheart," he says with a wink, smirking as if he's just staked another invisible claim. The sugar coats your tongue, but all you can taste is the thick layer of possession in the air.

The rest of the boys close in around you like a wall, blocking out the door, the dressing room, and any hope of escape.

TAGLIST (Comment if you want to be on it): @satansdaughter123 , @reni502, @zomqiez, @sylum , @bad4amficideas , @apelepikozume , @notheroverthinker , @snowy-violet , @jackiebluh , @sunflowers4life , @elli4ever , @pl4netx1a , @thelameone101 , @kimyeosinah-reum , @lvvcian , @moontides19, @iamliterallyadorable, @novacrystalli, @simp-for-yandere, @winter-solstice24, @bunniotomia

[dex0s]

Hello! You got the wrong snowy-violet, you ended up adding a 's' at the end of violet, if you need to untag me you can and I can just keep checking your page so you don't get confused on the username. Have a good rest of your day

I got you twin let me fix that rn! And you also have a good rest of your day pookie!

Me when I open my inbox and there’s something there:

[dex0s]

REWRITE ON, "DON'T WORRY 'BOUT A THING"

PROLOGUE, ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE >>>> SIX

(A/N)— does anyone like Abby’s fucking eyebrows… just me okay…

Word Count: 2.5K+ WARNING: (Name) not giving two shits. (Same twin), NOT PROOFREAD (fuck that shit dude)

Luckily, after the nightmare, sleep found its way back to you—uneasy, but enough. When the sunlight broke through the curtains and warmed your face, their eyes fluttered open. For a moment, (Name) just lay there, breath slow, like their body wasn't sure it could trust the calm. But the light... The light felt real. Gentle. A promise whispered across your skin. Today was a new day—one you had to believe wouldn't break them like the last.

BUZZ  BUZZ    BUZZ

A groan slips from your lips, rough and heavy with sleep. Fingers fumble toward the vibrating phone, dragging it off the charger with more force than necessary. (Name) eyes squint against the harsh glow of the screen. Who the hell was calling this early (Its 1 in the afternoon). Looking at the caller ID you see the name, "BIG DADDY ALPHA"... now why the hell is Zayden calling this early. Groaning for the thousandth time today (it's the second time) you answer– not giving a shit that your hair is a bird's nest.

(fun fact that's not fun for me but I was getting attacked by a bird last weekend but that's a story for a different day.)

"Now Zayden– why the hell are you call–"

"(NAME)! (NAME), RUMIR— RUMIR VOICE IS GONE!"

Blinking once at the person on the phone, Zayden who is crying like it's the end of the world. Well technically it would be... but that something that (Name) doesn't have to deal with. You sit there for a minute feeling like you forgot something but before you can fully comprehend your life. You hear a 'Hey!' from Zayden, and now you see Miro giving you a nasty stare.

"Who is that– I see black hair on your chest"

"ARE YOU CHEATING ON US!"

Looking down at your chest you see who Miro was talking about. Jelly... your teddy bear, you would say... teddy bear that is a demon, in which if the boys see you are royalty fucked. Quickly moving the phone camera closer to your face.

"What the hell are you on... that's my new cat, yea cat. But back on what Zayden said, what do you mean Rumir lost his voice?" You quickly change one conversation to the next one. Now Miro is the one yelling 'Hey!' at Zayden as he snatches his phone back.

"YeasolastnightwihenyouleftRumirthoughtitwasagoodideatorelease'Golden'anditwasabighitbutwhenweweregoingtodoitliveRumircouldn'tsingsointheendwecancelsonowwearetheonebeingcancelbythefans. BUT! iknowsomeonewhocanhelpatweareaboutogotherearesinceyourdonewithwhateveryouhadtodoIthoughtyoucouldcomewithus."

Zayden was breathing like he just ran the Olympic finals—when all he really did was run his mouth the whole time. Taking your sweet thing to think about what the fuck he just said piece by piece. Rumir, who is now in the living room, sees Zayden breathing like he's about to have a panic attack, Miro with a dumbfounded face, and you on the screen of Zayden's phone looking like you just saw Zayden kill someone and got away with it.

"Uh— so what the hell just happene–"

"Yea sure I'll go"

You cut off Rumir mid-sentence—didn't even pretend to care. No hesitation, no guilt. You hang up.

Getting Jelly back to the underworld wasn't easy... yeah, it sucked. Sad, I know. But it had to be done.

Steam still clings to your skin as you step out of the shower, the world a little quieter now. You pause in front of the mirror, staring down at the marks that have been with you your whole life. The ones that used to pulse in shades of deep violet—mysterious, heavy.

Now? They shimmer gold. But if you look closer, really look... there's still a hint of rainbow threaded underneath, hiding like it's not ready to be seen just yet.

You drag your fingers slowly up and down your forearm. Something feels... off. Not painful, just strange.

These marks, they are—[INFORMATION REDACTED].

Wait—what were you even talking about just now? Anyway, focus. You've got a million things to do—whatever it is you need to get ready to join the boys. Then you still need to finish polishing that new single you're planning to drop soon. Deadlines don't care if you're tired.

TIMESKIP

"HEY! (NAME) OVER HERE"

SLAP

"SHHHH— we are in public were the fans are can lurking at"

Turning to your left, your eyes land on them—three familiar figures clustered in the alleyway just outside a shady-looking doctor's office. The moment Rumir sees you, it's like the world stops turning for him. His eyes go wide—like he's staring at heaven itself, like you're some divine thing that stepped down just for him.

Behind him, though? Absolute chaos.

Zayden and Miro are going at it like feral animals—one's got the other in a headlock, the other's throwing weak punches that look more like flailing slaps. You're not sure if they're fighting over food, pride, or whose hair looks better today... but it's loud, it's stupid, and it's them.

Once you're close enough, Rumir doesn't waste a second—his arm slides around your waist like it belongs there, anchoring you to him without a word. It's possessive, but gentle. Familiar. His warmth seeps into your side, grounding you.

Then he turns his head slightly, eyes still half-glued to you as he speaks up—calm, but pointed.

"Zayden... are you sure this is the right person to help with my voice?"

The question cuts clean through the chaos.

Zayden and Miro freeze mid-scuffle, Zayden's arm halfway cocked to slap Miro's face (again). The tension breaks immediately, like someone hit pause on their nonsense.

"Yeah! Duh!" Zayden chirps, dusting off his hoodie like that somehow makes him more convincing. "On his page, he's helped a ton of people—idols too! You're in good hands, trust me."

Without another word, Zayden pushes open the rickety door to the doctor's office like he owns the place, practically skipping inside.

Miro trails behind him with a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes so hard it's a miracle they don't get stuck. His voice mutters just loud enough for you and Rumir to hear—

"Tch... says the guy who thought sea salt could 'cleanse chakras.'"

You sit sandwiched between Miro and Zayden in the cramped little waiting room, the kind that smells like lemon cleaner and broken dreams. The vinyl chairs creak every time someone breathes too hard, and the air conditioner hums like it's barely holding on.

Your eyes drift up to the wall across from you—plastered with photos, dozens of them. Signed posters, backstage passes, blurry selfies with idols that are way too famous to be in this dump.

But something's off.

You squint.

Nah. No way.

You lean in just a little. He definitely photoshopped himself into half these pictures. His arm is floating in one. The lighting's all wrong in another. And in one pic, his head is literally cut off mid-forehead.

"Oh hell no..." you think, already mentally cursing Zayden and his entire bloodline for dragging you into what's clearly some knock-off K-idol witch doctor's office.

Before you can get to the part where you swear vengeance on his great-grandchildren, the door swings open with an obnoxious creak.

The door creaks open like it's announcing royalty, and in walks the so-called "doctor."

The boys practically launch themselves out of their seats, bowing like they're meeting the president of K-pop himself. Full 90-degrees, all respectful and serious.

You? You stay planted. Arms crossed. Unbothered.

Fuck that doctor.

He steps in with a fake-ass smile that's trying way too hard to look warm and wise. "Ah—Huntr/x and Ms. (Name), no need to bow."

Bitch, you think, eyes narrowing just a little. I didn't even bow to your ass.

You force a smile anyway, one of those dead-eyed ones that says I'm only here so no one gets sued.

You're not even paying attention anymore.

Whatever the doctor's saying fades into static—just background noise to your growing list of regrets. You're too busy mentally counting all the red flags taped to the walls, too busy planning how hard you're going to roast Zayden later for this nonsense.

Until you feel a hand gently shake your shoulder.

You blink, pulled back to the present.

Rumir's standing in front of you now, close enough for you to see the small crease between his brows, the one he gets when he's worried but trying not to show it. In his hands, a plain white box—sealed, slightly dented, and way too mysterious for your liking.

"Let's go, (Name)," he says softly, like he's already made the decision and just needs you to follow. Following close behind Rumir, you two catch up to both Miro and Zayden.

"Now that we have the medication, Rumir can get his voice back!" Zayden twirls around Miro before doing finger guns at you and Rumir.

Rumir and Miro roll their eyes at Zayden, walking away to exit the alley. "Man. Why am I the odd one in the group."

Giving Zayden a side eye because of how dumb that question was, you grab his hand ragging him towards the group like a ragdoll.

Hitting the back of Miro, you about to question on why the fuck he stops in the middle of your walkway.

"Gasp!... FANS!", Somehow Zayden was able to pull away from your hold and now everyone is hiding behind you like a shield when you're the smallest one out this friend group.

"Now this is same bullshit right here—"

"(Name) walk."

Turning your head over your shoulder you give these grown men the fuck you finger. Now looking back you can see the shadow of the fans turning the corner.

'Unbelievable... un-fucking-believable'

Just the four guys you were NOT looking for. 'See now why the hell are they trying to look sex when they look like aliens. And not those hot aliens from fanfictions.'

Still in your thoughts, the boys move out from behind you and sees the wannabe one direction group.

'Damn... would (Name) love me if I had abs?"

'I'm not gay but god damn would I kill for some body like that'

'These bitches are ugly... (Name) would agree. Right?'

Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse. Jinu, the same man that thinks 'misunderstood' is a personality. Walks out and now Rumir is eyeballing him down.

'Okay maybe if I don't look at them they won't notice me' once you hear feet stop in place you know they found you. Looking next to you, Rumir is on the ground looking like a bird just shit in his mouth, Miro and Zayden still staring at the boys like it's their favorite animal at the zoo. Lastly Saja bitches looking at you like you went out to go get some milk and never came back. (Oh wait you did!)

"(Name)—" Jinu eyes widened see your gorgeous face. He hesitates but slowly and carefully holds a hand out to you like your some exotic animal that he just discovered.

But before he can put his grimy hands on you. Miro steps in and stops his hand.

"Yo. Backup dude" Miro glares at Jinu.

Jinu snatches his hand out of Miro hand before giving him a disgusted look.

"Tsk— get your nasty hands off of me" Jinu walks backwards to the other Saja boys who are glaring at Miro.

"Come on. Let go" Jinu and his other bitches— I mean friends walk off yet Jinu just had to get one little lick back, "You should come to our show (Name), we miss you."

'Thanks Jinu, now I'm going to fucking die because you just had to get the last sentence' you sigh keeping your head down before turning your head towards the boys that pause their pickup.

"What does he mean (Name)" Rumir slowly gets up, looking at you with the same dark expression when he hears something he doesn't like. You pray for yourself before asking.

"I don't know him— he just must be mistaken for another (Name)." Did you just play with him. Yes yes you did. But you really think that you wanna deal with this possessive shit. No, no thank you so your going to lie in his face and plays with his balls because fuck that.

before Rumir could add his two little sense in you hear music playing around the corner. And wanting to get out of the situation.

"Hey we should go check out the music" you begin to walk towards the sound of the music. Behind you the boys look at each other before nodding and walking up to you.

Walking in to the crowd of people, you finally make it to the front with the boys not that far behind.

Hey, hey,Hey, hey, hey

"Hey! It's those boys again" Zayden pointed out like everyone didn't notice.

Don't want you, need you, yeah, I need you to fill me up.

Hundred percent this song is not kids friendly. You continue to listen to the song that's not about a soda pop but whatever. Not noticing your shoulder moving to the song, but the two boy bands sure did.

Now no is pissed off and the other feels their ego grow. Rumir sees the one male named Jinu drink something that closely resembles his medicine. Quickly counting one is missing.

"That slut took one of my medicine pouches" The three boys give the singers nasty looks. Miro catch's the heart that came flying at you before crushing it.

"How dare ease elephants try to give their love to (Name)"

"We should kill them"

Miro and Zayden whispered (you heard that shit) to each other before looking at their leader Rumir. Who is by the way flaming up in anger, gets a closer view and the Saja fucks. His eyes catch the purple marks and yellow eyes.

"They're demons"

"Bitch add demons"

"Magicians— wait no demons, yeah demons"

Not wanting to deal with the shit because your gut is telling you they are going to shit on innocent people because of the demons you mutter something to them because walking away. By the time the boys notice you are gone and so are the Saja demons. They all froze for a second. 

“(NAME) GOT KIDNAPPED!” Zayden screams, his voice cracking at the top of his lungs, panic ripping straight through his chest.

Heads whip around. Conversations cut off mid-word. The crowd goes dead silent for a second—just long enough for his words to echo across the square.

“(Name)? The singer?” someone gasps from the middle of the crowd.

Phones are already being pulled out. Cameras flash. You hear more voices rising.

“The reallyyyy famous?” “Wait—they were here?!” “Did someone really take (Name)?!”

The crowd stirs into chaos—some people scream, some start running, and others are already livestreaming like this is some kind of messed-up fan event.

Miro’s fists clench so tight his knuckles turn white. Rumir is dead silent, his face unreadable—but his aura flares out in heatwaves, golden flames licking at the ground around him.

“We were right here,” he mutters under his breath. “And they still took them…”

Zayden turns to Miro, frantic. “We have to find them—NOW. Before Jinu and those demon bastards do whatever, they’re planning!”

Now what the boys don't know you didn't get kidnap, but you might as well say you did because why are the Saja Shit in your face. 'I thought we had a deal Gwi-ma... well you are a demon, so I don't know why I trusted you' you sigh seeing five circles around you. 

'Well fuck me in the ass-- wait don't do that'

TAGLIST (Comment if you want to be on it): @satansdaughter123 , @reni502, @zomqiez, @sylum , @bad4amficideas , @apelepikozume , @notheroverthinker , @snowy-violet , @jackiebluh , @sunflowers4life , @elli4ever , @pl4netx1a , @thelameone101 , @kimyeosinah-reum , @lvvcian , @moontides19, @iamliterallyadorable, @novacrystalli, @simp-for-yandere

[dex0s]

Its gimbap not sushi

-by a very confused new reader

ps. are the korean words plot related (do i have to translate it)

Thank you for that, I didn’t even notice. I literally read a recap of the movie, so I forgot it was not sushi. And yes the Korean words are plot related.

Me when my readers help me write:

[dex0s]

REWRITE ON, "DON'T WORRY 'BOUT A THING"

PROLOGUE, ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR >>>> FIVE

(A/N)— I had to write on my phone for this shit so if there typos or something doesn’t make sense, blame that on my autocorrect…

Word Count: 1.5K+ WARNINGS: DARK CONTENT, YANDERE TENDENCY, NON-CON, SHORT CHAPTER!

(Name) blinks slowly, their eyes heavy, lashes fluttering like the wings of a tired moth. The warmth of Gwi-Ma’s hand lingers on their cheek, steady like a promise. Their head begins to lean into his touch before sleep pulls at their shoulders.

They shift their gaze to the small creature curled at their side. “Jelly…” they whisper, voice already thick with drowsiness. Jelly stirs, letting out a sleepy little chirp before nuzzling close.

“I’m gonna sleep now, okay?” (Name) murmurs, their lips curling up just a little. “You stay right here. No more wandering off, alright?”

A yawn escapes as their hand weakly pats Jelly’s soft head, then drifts lazily downward, resting against their own chest. Their eyes meet Gwi-Ma’s one last time—his burning red ones reflecting something almost mournful, almost… human.

“Goodnight, Gwi-Ma…” (Name) whisper, the words nearly lost to the hush of the moment.

Their eyes fall closed at last, the tension leaving their body like smoke from a dying flame. Within moments, they’re still, breathing slow, curls of hair spilling over the side of their face.

Gwi-Ma doesn’t speak. He watches them in silence, the glow of his flames casting soft shadows across their sleeping face. One flamed hand rises again—hesitates mid-air—then gently tucks a strand of hair behind their ear.

“…안녕히 주무세요, 작은 별,” he breathes. “내가 사라질 것이기 때문입니다.”

Jelly lets out a soft hum, curling even closer into the crook of (Name)’s arm. Gwi-Ma rises slowly, every movement deliberate, restrained, as if afraid even the sound of his flames might disturb their peace.

But in the end, Gwi-Ma doesn’t stay.

The moment (Name)’s breaths even out and the last flicker of awareness leaves their face, something in Gwi-Ma shifts. His flames, once steady and warm, begin to dim into something colder. Sharper.

His eyes linger on them—memorizing every fragile line, every trace of innocence still untouched by the chaos waiting outside these walls. There’s pain in his gaze. Regret. Resolve. A storm sealed behind the quiet of a broken god.

A whisper, so low not even Jelly hears it, leaves his lips.

"Forgive me..."

And just like that—his body begins to dissolve. Not in smoke, not in fire, but in silence. Like a shadow vanishing before the sun. His presence withdraws from the room as if it had never been there, the only sign of him ever existing being the faint warmth left on the floor where he had once knelt.

The room falls cold.

Jelly stirs, sensing the shift. Their eyes blink open for a moment—scanning, searching. But there's nothing. Just the quiet hum of a resting world and the sleeping child beside them.

(Name)'s eyes snap open.

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

The ceiling stares back—unmoving, familiar, and somehow... wrongly still. A heavy weight sits on their chest, not physical, but pressing in like the air itself had turned to stone.

Their heart races, but their limbs—

‘Why can’t I move…’

The thought crashes through their mind, wild and panicked.

They try again. Fingers, arms, legs—anything.

Nothing answers.

Like they were buried beneath invisible chains.

In the thick silence, something shifts.

The shadows ripple—warping, bending, forming.

(Name)’s breathing stills, chest rising just once before freezing in place. Their eyes widen, pulse pounding in their ears as the dark unveils them.

Five figures.

Silhouettes etched in memory, not time.

They stand just at the edge of the room, where light refuses to touch. Faces half-formed, flickering like broken film. But (Name) knows them.

(Name) blinks—just once.

And in that single breath of darkness, everything changes.

A hand.

Wet. Cold. Wrong.

Fingers like bone and rotting silk curl around their wrist. The touch burns—not with heat, but with memory. A corrupted echo of comfort turned monstrous.

(Name)’s heart seizes.

They try to scream.

But nothing comes out.

Not a sound. Not a gasp.

Their mouth is open, their throat strained—but the silence is absolute. Suffocating.

Like the nightmare had stolen their voice and fed it to the void.

The figure leans closer, breath like ash and regret brushing against their cheek.

“You forgot your ours,” it hisses. Jinu hisses…

Voice layered—one they knew, buried under something else. Something that should not speak.

Another hand slithers up their arm. Another grips their ankle.

All five are around them now, crawling from the dark like broken dolls come alive. Smiling. Weeping.

(Name)’s body trembles beneath their stillness. Trapped in the silence of their own mind.

“You promised you’d be here… forever"

Whispers bleed from every direction.

“You pushed us away.”

“You left.”

“You moved on.”

Tears prick the corners of their eyes, but even those refuse to fall—held captive, like everything else.

And just before the weight of them pulls (Name) under—

Baby leans in, inches from their face.

“Now you don’t get to leave.”

Baby forces his tongue down (Name) mouth. ‘No. No! Stop’ (Name) tried to move– call for help, but their body just won’t listen.

“Don’t fight it.” Abby smiles down at (Name) while moving his hands down to their pants. (Name) squirms (their body is just giving the smallest twitches) feeling their pants and underwear being pulled slowly.

Romance unbuttoned (Name) shirt, letting his hands move around their chest. ‘Quit it— QUIT IT!’ (Name) let's tears fall down their face. “You did this yourself, you asked for this” Baby smiles down at (Name) before watching the others eat you alive.

Abby grabs their legs, forcing (Name) legs back to the point they were bent in half. “Hey, Jinu, Mystery, you want to help or just stand there.” Abby had the two hold your legs. Moving his face closer to your ass, He takes a long lick.

‘Please—ah—stop…’ (Name) closes their eyes wishing for this to be over. You look around them seeing Romance playing with your nipples, Mystery and Jinu playing with themselves watching you get violated by Abby.

(Name) head gets forced back into Baby’s dick. “Suck.” (Name) just close their eyes ignoring the demon. Baby gets sick of waiting— forcing (Name) mouth open and pushing his cock in their mouth.

“Hey! We were supposed to go together” Abby lifts his head up, pouting. “You—hmm— you were taking too long.” Baby thrust his hips rough, causing you to gag. Abby rolling his eyes before pulling his pants down, lining himself up with your hole.

“Wait, it's my turn now!” Romance pushes Abby away, taking his cock and slamming into you. “Ah—!” Rolling your eyes in the back of your head, “Looks like—fuck look what you do to me— someone’s enjoying it—“ Jinu takes one of your hand using it to jerk off.

“Fuck— you feel so good sweetheart.” Romance pulls his cock out until it’s just his tip in you, before slamming back in. Doing it over and over again. ‘I can’t— I can’t do this’ (Name) throat tighten around Baby cock, feeling it twitch in your mouth.

“Move! You're hogging them” Abby pushes Romance to the side. Romance growls at Abby as he feels himself getting close. Line himself closer to your hole, you feel like you’re being ripped apart.

“Dude! Move out the way!”

“No! It was my turn first”

Both Abby and Romance argue while they ram their cocks in your tight hole. Baby gives one last thrust and cums in your mouth. (Name) chokes as the cum flies down their throats and everyone pauses.

Mystery looks down at you, leading down to take your mouth into his. You can feel his tongue exploring your mouth, tasting Baby’s cum on his tongue. Pulling back, drool and cum is dragged up.

“That was hot—“

“I think I just got harder”

“…”

“Wow…”

“That cum was for them, you dog.”

(Name) weeped, closing their eyes trying to ignore this. “Don’t go falling asleep now, we just started.” Jinu smiled sickly but something about his voice—it was dark, scary.

Then everything snapped.

(Name) woke up with a gasp, heart hammering against their ribs. The room was quiet—too quiet. Jelly around their legs, skin damp with sweat. They sat up fast, lungs dragging in the heavy air like it might choke them.

Their hands trembled.

It was just a dream.

Just a dream.

A memory.

(Name) just slowly and quietly moved their hand through Jelly’s hair before quietly crying to themselves.

The strands were soft, warm—real. It grounded them, if only for a moment. Jelly didn’t stir, still breathing slow, curled close like nothing was wrong. Like nightmares didn’t crawl out of the dark.

But (Name)’s tears came anyway. Not loud, not broken—just quiet, steady. The kind that hurt more because they had no sound.

They buried their face into Jelly’s shoulder, trying to hold in the trembling.

"왜 나는—난 원하지 않았어... 그렇죠?" (Name) whispered, into Jelly’s shoulder trying desperately not to wake him up.

(Name) voice cracked on the last word, barely more than a breath. The weight of it settled heavy on their chest. Fingers curled tighter into Jelly’s shirt like it could anchor them, like it could keep the memory from dragging them under again.

“미안해... 매우 유감이에요“

"– 깨어나,그것은 거짓말이다!"

TAGLIST (Comment if you want to be on it): @satansdaughter123 , @reni502, @zomqiez, @sylum , @bad4amficideas , @apelepikozume , @notheroverthinker , @snowy-violet , @jackiebluh , @sunflowers4life , @elli4ever , @pl4netx1a , @thelameone101 , @kimyeosinah-reum , @lvvcian , @moontides19

[dex0s]

REWRITE ON, "DON'T WORRY 'BOUT A THING"

PROLOGUE, ONE, TWO, THREE>>>> FOUR

Word Count: 3.8k+ WARNINGS:  DARK CONTENT LOOK FOR (♡) TO SKIP, YANDERE TENDENCY

Deep underground, beneath layers of blackened stone and silence, thousands of demons lay restless in the dark.

Soft, trembling footsteps echoed down the corridor. A demon flight attendant, her wings tight against her back, walked slowly toward the throne that sat high above the pit—the seat of the flaming king, Gwi-Ma.

Not a sound stirred in the underworld, not even a whisper. The only noise was the soft, shaky breath escaping the demon's lips.

She stepped closer to the marble stairway leading up to Gwi-Ma's throne. But before her foot could touch the first step, her body jolted—her marks igniting as if tugged by invisible chains—and in a blink, she was yanked through the air and slammed to her knees before the flaming lord.

Gwi-Ma didn't move. His body sat like molten armor, fire dancing along the lines of his skin. His voice was deep and slow, like something ancient waking up.

"Let me guess..." He leaned forward slightly, flames flickering brighter. "They got away again."

The demon's eyes widened, head bowed. She tried to speak, but all that came out was a cracked whisper. "The... Hunters. They're too strong..."

Silence.

Then— "I understand," Gwi-Ma said.

The demon blinked. Slowly, she looked up at her king with eyes full of disbelief. "You... you do?"

"I understand..." His voice sharpened. "...that you are weak."

Before she could respond, fire bloomed across her body.

A scream tore through the undercity, quick and short.

"Pathetic!" Gwi-Ma's roar boomed through the chamber. "Useless! All of you!" He stood now, tall and burning, his presence sending cracks through the floor. "Don't you idiots get it?"

His eyes turned upward.

"If the Hunters turn the Honmoon gold, it's over for us."

At that moment, as if in defiance or mockery, a faint golden shimmer blinked through the darkness above—high where the Honmoon pulsed in its cage.

Gwi-Ma growled low.

And the demons below, watching from the shadows, dared not move.

One of the demons, small and hunched over near the back of the crowd, couldn't hold it in anymore. He sobbed—quiet at first, then louder, broken by hiccuped gasps. The words of the king still echoed in his head: "Useless. Pathetic."

But suddenly, he froze. His breath caught.

A soft melody drifted through the cavern—plucked slowly, almost lazily, from the strings of a bipa. The sound curled through the dark like a breeze, light and ghostly. The sobbing demon blinked and looked up.

"There once was a mighty demon king..." A voice sang gently from above. "Stop me if you've heard this one before..."

Every head turned.

Up high, balanced atop a jagged red torii, stood a figure cloaked in violet shadows. A demon, tall and poised, holding the bipa in his arms. His fingers continued to play as his voice wove through the still air.

"He was in total control. He feasted on souls. The world trembled when he roared..."

Slowly, gracefully, the demon floated down from the torii, hair billowing, a faint shimmer around him like smoke dancing on water. His eyes hidden from his hat due to his head hanging low "But then," he continued, voice lilting, "some Hunters snagged some songs..."

His feet touched the ground. Still singing, he stepped forward toward Gwi-Ma's throne, each stride slow and deliberate.

"Now all he does is starve..."

From the thick fog that curled near the back of the undercity, two glowing red eyes opened wide. A low growl followed—then the shape of a blue tiger emerged, quiet and calm, stalking beside its master.

"Can't get at the souls," the demon sang, his voice lowering, "and his flame grows cold. Just a whisper in the dark..."

Demons began to part for him. They didn't speak. They didn't dare move in his path. The purple-cloaked demon walked like he was performing on a stage meant only for kings.

Now fully in front of the king's stairs, he tilted his head, lips curling.

And he sang—

"And will he let the fire go out? Is this the end of him now? Dying king with a crumbling crown... Will he let the fire go out?"

Silence.

Only the soft growl of the tiger. Only the fading echo of the melody.

"I let you keep that voice, Jinu..." Gwi-Ma's flames curled tighter around his throne, low and steady like a warning. "And you dare to mock me with it?"

Jinu's bipa hung loosely at his side now. His voice was calm. Too calm.

"I'm not here to mock you," he said. "I'm here to help."

From behind him, the fog shifted.

Four figures stepped forward from the crowd of demons. Their auras pulsed just slightly—off-color, strange. They didn't bow. They didn't flinch. Just stood beside Jinu like they were always meant to.

"It's time for a new strategy," Jinu continued.

The five of them began to rise, lifting slowly toward the upper level where Gwi-Ma loomed like a god in waiting.

"We fight the Hunters..." Jinu said, eyes locked on the flame-covered king, "where they least expect it." Jinu's voice dropped lower. "We go after the very thing that powers the Honmoon."

He paused for dramatic effect, but his gaze didn't waver. "The fans."

The word echoed through the chamber.

Gwi-Ma's flames flickered in thought. He narrowed his eyes. He knew. That was only part of the truth—only one sliver of what fed the golden curse above. But Jinu wasn't about to share the rest. Not yet.

Before the king could respond—

"Ur-wa~"

A pitch-perfect harmony suddenly echoed off the walls.

Then all five demons struck a nasty pose. Arms sharp. Legs wide. Perfectly timed.

A long, empty silence followed.

Gwi-Ma stared.

Then, like a spark catching dry wood, his flames grew wild—and he laughed. A deep, monstrous laugh that shook the entire cavern.

"A demon boy band?" he repeated, still laughing.

Below, the undercity exploded with laughter too. The other demons, watching from the shadows, followed their lord's lead—pointing, cackling, mocking the five striking poses midair.

But Jinu said nothing.

He just... snapped his fingers.

Click. The sound of a soda can cracking open cut through the noise like a blade.

And suddenly— The five demons shimmered. Shifted. Changed.

In a flash, they weren't strangers anymore.

They were people—familiar people. Faces burned into (Name)'s memory. Smiles that once sang on stage. Voices that once called out through speakers and screens.

The laughter stopped. Dead. Silent.

Even Gwi-Ma paused, flames twitching uncertainly.

"...Yeah," one of the demons said, still holding a mic. "That's totally gonna work."

"Yeah, 100%," another added, nodding with the other demon.

Gwi-Ma narrowed his eyes, slowly rising from his throne. His voice dropped into a low growl.

"Okay... I know you, Jinu. In four hundred years, you've never done a single thing that didn't serve yourself."

Jinu's confident smirk faltered.

His eyes flickered—just for a second—as something like a memory pushed its way in.

But it vanished.

He straightened his shoulders, meeting the king's fire without flinching.

"What do you want?" Gwi-Ma asked.

Jinu exhaled, quiet.

"...The memories," he said. "I want them erased."

Then his voice softened.

"And I—we—just want to see them."

That made the fire lord freeze.

To him, these pathetic things were nothing more than puppets. Playthings. And yet they were asking... to see his child. His pet. His.

He said nothing.

Only turned, snapping his fingers.

The five demons were hurled upward—shot toward the surface in a blink of flame.

And then, Gwi-Ma vanished into smoke.

The cavern was still again.

"...Uh," one of the demons blinked. "So... what do we do now?"

"I don't know," another said, glancing around awkwardly.

Then—snap.

A watery crack echoed.

The floor under one of them—Jelly, the water demon—gave way like wet paper. With a yelp, he dropped through the hole.

Gone.

"You know what I noticed?" one demon muttered, still watching the space where Jelly had just fallen through.

The others turned slightly, half-curious, half-dreading where this was going.

"Whenever Gwi-Ma disappears like that... the dude just vanishes—no smoke trail, no flash, no nothing—and then comes back perfectly fine like he just went out for coffee."

Another demon, lounging near a cracked pillar, raised a brow and chimed in, "Right? Like—no burns, no blood, not even a scuff on his lava."

A beat passed.

Then a third demon leaned in, lowering his voice. "You think... Gwi-Ma has favorites?"

The undercity went a little quieter.

Some demons exchanged glances.

"...I mean," the lounging one said, scratching his horn, "he didn't roast Jinu alive. And that bipa song? That was pure shade."

"Exactly!" the first demon hissed. "If I even sneezed during one of his speeches, my whole face would be on fire."

A smaller demon near the back whispered, "One time I tripped near the Honmoon gate and he melted my legs."

Everyone nodded in solemn agreement.

"Yeah," the first demon muttered. "He's got favorites."

"Totally."

As the final notes of the concert echoed into the night, (Name) stood center stage, bathed in golden lights and deafening cheers. The fans' voices melded into one overwhelming wave of love, joy, and devotion.

But it wasn't just the sound.

It was the light.

Souls in the crowd began to glow—a soft, radiant gold—like fireflies caught mid-breath. Thousands of them, warm and blinding. The Honmoon pulsed faintly above, responding to the energy.

(Name) smiled, just a little. A soft, tired smile. A thank-you smile.

But then... their eyes drifted higher.

Beyond the lights. Past the cameras. Up—where no spotlight reached.

And there—

Atop the edge of the stadium, pink flames flickered in the dark.

A figure stood, barely visible through the haze and fog machines. The flames wrapped around them like ribbons—glowing, unnatural. In one hand, the figure held something—no, someone—dangling limply by the collar.

Even from this distance, (Name) recognized them.

A small demon. Familiar. Loved.

(Name)'s breath caught for just a second.

The flaming figure raised their hand and gave a slow, taunting wave.

The kind of wave you give when you want to be seen.

(Name) narrowed their eyes, chest tightening. But only for a moment.

Then they turned back to the crowd.

The fans were still screaming.

Still glowing.

Still unaware.

(Name) raised their hand and waved back—this time to the fans.

"Thank you!" they called out, voice strong and bright despite the storm brewing behind their eyes. "Thank you so much!"

And the stadium roared louder.

The music had faded.

The lights dimmed.

And as the roar of the crowd softened behind them, (Name) stepped off the stage, the glittering gold of the fans' energy still clinging faintly to their skin like static. Each step toward the backstage elevator echoed, distant and hollow compared to the thunder they'd just left behind.

They didn't get far.

"(NAME)!!!"

The shout came fast—urgent, loud, too loud.

(Name) turned around, blinking.

Then— "Wait—Ack!"

Before they could react, a blur of motion slammed into them full-force.

Zayden.

All muscle, momentum, and messy hair, practically tackled (Name) with open arms, nearly lifting them off the ground.

Behind him, Rumir and Miro came skidding around the corner, breathless and wild-eyed.

"Zayden, you idiot! We said ease into it!" Rumir barked.

"He's gonna knock them into another dimension," Miro muttered, adjusting his crop top.

"Hey, guys—Zayden, get off—" (Name) huffed, arms still squished awkwardly beneath the weight of him. "I saw the gold during your concert."

"Oh—right, sorry!" Zayden blurted, scrambling off like he just remembered gravity existed.

He straightened up quickly, brushing off his jacket, trying to act like he hadn't nearly tackled a whole person.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and the group stepped in, still buzzing with post-concert energy.

"Okay, so I wasn't the only one who saw it," Rumir said, flashing a grin as the doors closed behind them.

"Nope," Miro said, crossing his arms with a proud little tilt of his chin. "Can't believe we're actually doing it."

"It's so exciting!" Zayden added, practically bouncing in place before throwing an arm around (Name) and hugging them tightly from the side.

(Name) blinked, pressed awkwardly into his shoulder. "H-Hey—"

But Rumir was already speaking again, turning to face them all with that spark in his eyes.

"You know what this means... It's time to release the song."

Miro gasped. "Yes! It's finally time!"

"We're gonna turn it gold!" Zayden cheered, squeezing (Name) like a plush toy. "Yay!"

(Name), still stuck in Zayden's grip, raised a brow. "Wait a minute. Weren't we supposed to go on break...? I've been waiting for that, actually."

No one heard them.

Or at least, no one responded.

(Name) just sighed internally, eyes half-lidded. Okay... so I'm just getting ignored now... cool.

Rumir clasped his hands together, eyes shining.

"The moment we waited for—"

All three boys shouted in unison, "Yesss!"

But then—

Cough.

A short, sudden one. Not dramatic, but oddly sharp.

"—Whoa." Rumir blinked, touching his throat. "That was weird."

The energy shifted. Just slightly.

(Name)'s eyes narrowed a bit. Miro and Zayden both turned to look at Rumir with quiet confusion.

"Well, good thing we're taking a break," (Name) said, voice light but careful.

"Yeah," Miro nodded slowly, watching him. "Sounds like you need the rest."

"I'm fine," Rumir said quickly, waving it off. "Probably just need some water."

He gave them a small smile.

But it lingered a little too long on (Name).

Ding.

The elevator doors opened with a cheerful chime—and standing right there, arms dramatically outstretched, was Bobby, flanked by the bustling backstage crew.

"Did someone say water?" he grinned.

"Hi Bobby!" the boys and (Name) all said in perfect unison, like they'd rehearsed it.

"Water! Now!" Bobby barked, and instantly, four crew members stepped forward with chilled bottles like soldiers in formation.

"What a way to end the world tour!" Bobby declared, throwing his arms around two crew members like this was his show.

As Huntr/x and (Name) walked down the hallway, a parade of staff handed them food, drinks, warm robes, cool towels—anything they could need. The entire hallway buzzed with celebration and exhaustion.

"That finale?" Bobby rambled as he walked alongside them. "With the guy in the demon suit exploding into confetti? Genius. And (Name)—your intro? Mind-blowing."

(Name) gave Bobby a quiet smile and a small nod in thanks, still gently riding the high of the performance.

Meanwhile, Zayden was strolling casually with the crew, letting someone feed him sushi straight from the tray. "So chill," one crew member whispered.

Another added, "Those special effects looked amazing!"

Miro snorted a laugh. "Yeah... special effects," he echoed, a sly smirk tugging at his lips.

Up ahead, Rumir and (Name) walked side by side, leading the group.

"This is gonna break the bank," Bobby grinned, pulling out his phone. "Top ten charts—Huntr/x at #1, (Name) close behind. And don't even get me started on these social numbers. You guys are nuclear right now."

He looked back up, practically vibrating with excitement. "And to celebrate, I booked you a week-long staycation at the fanciest, most exclusive relaxation resort in all of Korea."

"Sorry, Bobby." Miro waved him off as a makeup artist fixed the smudge under his eye. "We already got plans."

Bobby's face dropped. "What? What plans?"

Zayden bounced on his toes before throwing an arm around Miro. "We got the hottest tickets in town."

"To our couch! Couch!" both boys sang, skipping down the hall like oversized children.

Bobby blinked.

Rumir stepped up, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "Bobby, you should go enjoy the resort. This tour's been grueling for everyone."

Before Rumir could finish, (Name) jumped in, finishing the sentence in perfect harmony.

"You deserve it."

Bobby blinked again, eyes misty. "Me? Oh no, I couldn't possibly—"

(Name) gave him a look. The kind of look that said don't test me right now.

"...Just kidding," Bobby laughed nervously. "Robe me! I'm a 34 short. See you in a couple weeks!"

The crew scrambled to wrap him up in a fluffy robe as he strutted off like he'd just won a spa-themed award show.

"Bye, Bobby!" everyone called after him.

The hallway was peaceful again.

"Alright," Miro sighed, stretching his arms. "Two weeks of vacation."

Behind him, Rumir quietly tapped his fingers together like some kind of scheming villain. "Yes. Vacation."

(Name) threw him a slow side-eye. Really? Then, without hesitation, elbowed him in the stomach.

"Ow—okay, I deserved that," Rumir muttered, doubling slightly.

(Name) laughed softly, brushing their jacket straight. "Well, boys, I've gotta go—"

"What? No!" Zayden spun around dramatically, eyes wide like a kicked puppy.

"You promised you'd have your vacation with us," Miro added, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

"I know, I know—" (Name) started, backing up just a step. "But something just came up."

Rumir said nothing.

He just stared.

(Name) met his eyes—and immediately regretted it.

The look Rumir gave wasn't angry. It wasn't hurt.

It was cold.

His eyes were dark—far too dark—and the way he spoke next sent a chill down (Name)'s spine.

"You promised," he said quietly, voice low and strange. "You promised..."

(Name) flinched slightly.

"I—" they started.

"Promised, promised. No take backs," Zayden cut in, still pouting.

(Name) looked at all of them, heart sinking a little.

Then they sighed, shoulders slumping.

"I'll come back. Right after I'm done. Straight to you guys. I promise."

A tense beat passed.

Then Zayden beamed again, like nothing ever happened.

"Yay!"

Rumir still didn't smile.

Zayden held onto his smile a second longer than usual. "Okay! Vacation snacks, here I come!" he shouted, his voice just a little too loud, a little too forced.

He spun on his heel and took off down the hallway, but there was no bounce in his step this time. The joy didn't follow him.

Miro lingered a moment, arms still folded. His mouth curled into a smile—small, dry, and not quite real.

"I guess... I'll go make sure Zayden doesn't eat all the ice cream before Rumir even sits down." He tried to joke, but it came out flat.

Then he turned too.

His footsteps echoed quieter than usual.

Rumir was the last to move.

He didn't say a word.

Just looked at (Name) one final time. Eyes half-lidded. Calm. But heavy.

Like a curtain had fallen.

There was no warmth in his stare now. Just quiet disappointment. Not the kind that burned—but the kind that lingered.

He turned.

And as he walked, the lights in the hallway flickered slightly—only for a moment—as if the very air around them had shifted.

The group moved farther down the hall. No more laughter. No more teasing. Just silence. And something colder behind them than before. They hadn't said anything cruel. But they didn't need to. It was the way their shoulders sank. The way their shadows stretched just a little longer behind them. The way not a single one of them looked back.

(Name) quickly arrived home, slamming the door behind them with a tired sigh. Leaning their head against the wood, they closed their eyes and breathed in deep.

"Loved the concert," they muttered, exhaling as they let the weight of the night fall from their shoulders.

But as they turned around— There it was.

That same pink flame.

The one from the concert. The one they used to call Mr. Flamey.

It hovered calmly in the air, flickering softly like it had been waiting. But near it— A demon knelt, clutching at its side, struggling through what looked like the edge of a pain-induced collapse.

(Name) didn't even blink at the flame. Their eyes went straight to the demon on the ground.

"Jelly," they whispered, kneeling. "It's me. (Name)."

The water demon's trembling eyes lifted, cloudy with confusion—until recognition struck.

And then, with a sudden burst of emotion, Jelly threw themselves into (Name)'s arms. Arms wrapped tightly, water trickling down from his eyes like melting glass.

(Name) didn't hesitate, stroking his hair, cradling his head like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"I got you," they murmured.

The room glowed softly with blue from Jelly's skin—interrupted only by the bitter pink of the flame watching nearby.

"Well, wow..." Gwi-ma's voice cut through the tenderness like a blade wrapped in velvet.

"You'd rather throw yourself at a demon you've only known for what—a few months? Then the demon king who's taken care of you your entire life?" His voice coiled like smoke.

Flames curled tighter behind him, flaring just enough to cast his sharp features into half-shadow. His eyes flicked down toward the water demon—Jelly's trembling form held tightly in (Name)'s arms—and narrowed.

"Unbelievable," he added with a venom-laced smile.

Jelly didn't look up. He only buried deeper into (Name)'s embrace.

Gwi-ma let out a low sigh, the flames around him flickering like tired breaths.

"They're coming..." he said finally, voice calm—but far too quiet to mean anything good.

(Name)'s hand froze mid-motion in Jelly's hair.

"...What?" Their voice cracked before they could steady it. "What do you mean they're coming?"

Gwi-ma's gaze didn't waver. "Exactly what it sounds like."

(Name) sat back slightly, pulling Jelly with them protectively. "No," they said, shaking their head. "You said—you promised—you would keep them away."

"I did," Gwi-ma replied, as the flames swirled higher. "For as long as I could. But they've caught your scent again. And this time, they may not stop..." His gaze flicked down to Jelly, who whimpered quietly, clutching at (Name)'s shirt.

(Name) looked down, their eyes softening as they saw how hard Jelly was trembling.

And then something hit them. A memory.

A moment.

Sixteen years old.

(♡)

They said it was a mistake. That they didn't mean to do it, but you could see the look in their eyes. They changed that day. They were hungry. They were lonely. And when a demon is hungry and lonely, they don't care what they have to do to fix it. They may have got what they want but you lost something that you can never get back. You tried to fight back but they were too strong. You just lay there, tears coming down your face.

(♡)

(Name) sniffles, their small frame trembling as a single tear trails down their cheek. They look up, voice cracking like glass under pressure.

"Please... please, Dad... don't let them get me again..."

Gwi-Ma freezes.

The word Dad echoes louder than any scream.

His flames rise in a sharp burst—wild, angry—before he quickly exhales, forcing them to flicker down into a gentle glow. His expression softens as he kneels to their level, his voice low, steady, protective.

"I promised, didn't I?" he says, reaching out to gently cup the side of their face with a flamed, but careful hand. "I won't let them, child... Not again."

"내가 한 번 당신을 실망시켰다는 것을 알고 있습니다... 나는 그들이 내가 보호해야 할 것을 만지게 했습니다. 하지만 다시는 그렇지 않습니다. 내가 무엇을 태워야 하는지, 내가 어떤 사람이 되어야 하는지는 상관하지 않습니다—이번에는 그들은 당신에게 단 한 손도 놓지 않을 것입니다."

TAGLIST (Comment if you want to be on it): @satansdaughter123, @reni502, @zomqiez, @sylum, @bad4amficideas, @apelepikozume, @notheroverthinker, @snowy-violet, @jackiebluh, @sunflowers4life, @elli4ever, @pl4netx1a

[dex0s]

REWRITE ON, "DON'T WORRY 'BOUT A THING"

PROLOGUE, ONE, TWO>>>> THREE

Word count: 4.8k+ WARNINGS YANDERE TENDENCIES

(A/N): I skip like a little bit of the fighting part because I suck at writing fighting scenes. Sorry not sorry.

 The crowds buzzed with excitement, fans bumping shoulders and laughing as they made their way toward the glowing arena. "This is it! The last Huntr/X show before their break!" someone shouted, waving a lightstick in the air.

Another group hurried past, nearly tripping over the pavement in their rush. "We have to get good spots!" a girl giggled, pulling her friend by the wrist. Neon signs flickered over their heads, and the sound of chanting was already building like a heartbeat.

"Let's go, Huntr/X!"

"We love you, Huntr/X!!"

Voices rang out from every direction as fans yelled into camera phones, waving signs high above their heads. Some jumped excitedly, trying to catch the attention of the livestream crew.

"Miro's my favorite," one of the girls said coolly, shifting her weight as she adjusted her Miro-themed hoodie. Her voice was calm, but the way her fingers tapped against the handle of her lightstick gave her away. "He's the visual and lead dancer of Huntr/X. No one moves like him. He makes it look effortless."

Her two friends stood behind her, nodding with quiet approval.

"Apparently, he's the black sheep of his family."

The frame cuts to two guys walking side by side, both holding bubble teas, one holding a sign and the other not, half-laughing. "I don't get it. He's so cool," one of them says, shrugging. "Who else could wear a sleeping bag to the Met Gala and make it a trend?" the other adds with a grin. They bump shoulders and keep walking.

Then, the camera swings to a group of three teens standing in front of the camera, all with messy under-eye makeup just like Miro. "He's our role model," says the one in the middle, arms crossed with full conviction. "He's the best. Love him," the other two echo at the same time, barely cracking a smile.

The feed flickers, switching cameras again. This time, it lands on a group of four girls, all sporting the same big, doe-like eyes and matching pastel fits. "We're here for Zayden!" they announce in unison, throwing up heart fingers.

The screen quickly shifts to a clean shot of Zayden—smirking, mid-pose. "The rapper and lyricist," a calm male narrator chimes in, just as a tiny subtitle flickers: Zayden – Main Rapper, Lyricist."He grew up in America," the voice adds, "somewhere called Burbank, USA."

A soft giggle breaks through as the stream cuts to a clip of Zayden doing aegyo backstage—puffed cheeks, heart hands, bashful wink. "He's the cutest maknae," a girl's voice coos.

But just as fast, the scene cuts again—this time to a darker, grittier image: Zayden on stage, mic clenched, fire in his eyes as he spits bars. "But when he raps..." the same male voice returns, his tone sharper now, "he goes hard."

The clip ends with a snap, cutting to a boy in a light green shirt holding up a signed photo of Zayden and a girl in the same color hoodie. "He gets real scary," she says, nodding. "So scary, like, you better watch out."

"We love Rumir!"

A new camera fades in—this time on two girls in matching oversized purple Rumir hoodies, standing near a merch booth with their arms crossed like bodyguards. "He's pop-star royalty," one says coolly, brushing her braids over her shoulder. "Uh-huh," the other hums, nodding like it's obvious. Like everyone should know.

The stream cuts to a vintage photo—three glamorous women posing under golden lights. A soft subtitle reads: The Sunlight Sisters."His mom was a Sunlight Sister," the narrator explains, tone softened. "She passed away when he was just an infant."

The scene shifts again—this time to a grainy flashback clip: Celine at the Idol Awards, holding a toddler Rumir, his eyes wide and sparkly under the stage lights. Then another photo: Celine standing tall beside all three Huntr/X members, dressed to perfection in matching black suits. "But Celine raised him," the voice continues, "and built Huntr/X around him."

Now the livestream jumps to a trio of girls decked out in Huntr/X gear—each one holding a different colored lightstick. "Rumir's voice is just... incredible. Like—" She trails off, looking up as if searching for the right word.

Smash cut. Three adult men appear on screen, sniffling with full-blown tears in their eyes, tissues in hand. "It brings us to tears!" they cry in unison, as dramatic music swells behind them.

"Then there's (Name)," the male narrator begins, just as the crowd noise dips for a split second— Only to erupt again. And when I say loud, I mean earthquake loud—like the stadium itself shook.

The camera snaps back to the narrator, who now wears a smirky grin. "See what I mean?"

"(Name) isn't technically part of Huntr/X," says a girl from a group dressed head to toe in (Name) merch—shirts, hats, even face stickers. "But they might as well be! They're basically member number four. Half their songs are with Huntr/X anyway." "They're doing a concert right after Huntr/X," another chimes in, like it's the best double feature of all time.

The livestream fades into a soft slideshow: little (Name) and Rumir, little older than toddlers, grinning on a swing set. Then a shot of Huntr/X on stage—(Name) right there with them, mic raised, mid-note, all of them glowing under the lights.

"(Name) and Rumir were childhood best friends," the narrator explains gently. "But their schedules pulled them apart." A pause. "Eventually, they found their way back to each other... and that's how (Name) met Huntr/X."

Cut to a guy in sunglasses holding a vinyl of (Name)'s new album. "Usually, (Name) sings about happy stuff, you know? Love, youth, all that." He flips the vinyl around. "But this new album? It's dark. Real dark."

Before he can say more, a girl leans into frame, dreamy-eyed. "I love their new album," she sighs. "It shows us the dark side of (Name)..." She pauses, then smirks like she just spilled a secret. "And honestly? I find it so attractive."

Inside the massive twin-stadium venue, the lights dimmed low, fans swaying with glowsticks in hand. The camera finds a girl huddled with her friends near the front barricade, eyes shining. "They're taking a break together," she says, voice already thick with emotion, "and they truly need it, but we're gonna miss them so mu—"

BOOM.

The entire stadium lights up in a flash of gold. Lasers flicker, stage lights snap to life, and the crowd erupts.

"Everyone look alive! Alright, looking good over there—okay!" Bobby strides across the stage, weaving through the rush of crew members, earpiece in, phone in hand.

One of the stagehands jogs up beside him, out of breath. "Are you ready?"

Bobby nods. "Ready." But something's off. He glances down at his phone, tapping the flight tracker app open.

The screen glows with a single blue icon: Flight 7HX – In Air... Right Over the Stadium.

Bobby's brows furrow. "What—where are they going?"

In the plane...

The hum of the jet surrounds them, soft clouds drifting past the windows like a dream.

Rumir leans forward at the small table between the plush seats, eyes focused but excited. "Okay. This is our biggest show yet."

Zayden nods, arms crossed but clearly hyped. "The most songs."

Miro stretches his neck dramatically before grinning. "The most moves."

The three boys sit together in a circle around the table, their hands resting firmly on each other's shoulders like a secret sports huddle. There's a moment of silence—one filled with dramatic tension...

Then Rumir raises an eyebrow. "Which means..."

They all lean in.

"...the most carb loading."

And with perfect timing, all three shout in unison, fists in the air: "For the fans!"

All three boys are now hunched over trays, devouring food like they haven't eaten in days. Gimbap disappears in seconds, chips are crushed without mercy, and wrappers pile up like snowdrifts.

"I need ten thousand calories just to survive the choreo," Rumir mumbles through a mouthful of rice, cheeks puffed like a chipmunk.

"A thousand percent. A gajillion percent," Miro nods with his own cheeks full, waving his chopsticks for emphasis.

Rumir squints at him. "Bro. That's not even a real number."

Miro shrugs, still chewing. "It is... for our fans."

Unbothered, Rumir lifts an absurdly long gimbap roll to his nose and inhales dramatically. "Ah~."

Beside him, Zayden tears open a bag of chips and dumps them into his mouth like it's a sport.

Meanwhile, behind them, a flight attendant in oddly mismatched heels tiptoes down the aisle—holding a coffee pot and pouring it... into a potted plant. No one notices.

A beat passes, wrappers now empty, drinks finished. Silence settles as all three boys stare at the final course.

Rumir claps his hands together. "Okay! Time for our pre-game ramyeon!"

He dramatically unveils a cup of instant noodles, and the others follow suit like it's a sacred ritual.

In unison, Zayden and Miro raise their cups. "Happy fans."

Rumir lifts his with pride. "Happy Honmoon!"

But when they all peel back the lids, their excitement instantly deflates.

"...There's no water in these," Zayden says, eyes wide, voice breaking just slightly with betrayal.

Rumir blinks, then looks around. "Um, excuse me, miss?"

The boys turn toward the flight attendant—who, suspiciously, is still pouring coffee into the same plant. Slowly, she turns, giving them a sharp smile.

"Yes, Miss Hunter...ix?"

Rumir tilts his head, confused. "We asked for hot water—"

"Right away! You're welcome! Arrivederci! Goodbye!" She spins on her heel and speed-walks down the aisle like she's fleeing a crime scene.

There's a beat of silence.

Rumir, still watching her go, mutters, "Uh... okay."

Bzzzzzzzt.

His phone buzzes in his lap. Rumir glances down and sees the caller ID flashing across the screen: Bobby.

Rumir snatches up the buzzing phone and quickly answers. "Yeah, hi!" the boys chime together, crowding the screen.

"Um—what are you doing?" Bobby's voice crackles through the speaker, confused and a little frantic.

Rumir turns the camera to Zayden, who's holding a sad, dry cup of ramyeon. "About to eat our pre-show ramyeon."

"Pre-show? What about the show-show?" Bobby blinks, clearly not following.

"Hey, that's my phone—!"

Suddenly, Bobby's voice is cut off as a swarm of fans grabs his phone. "We love you!" a few scream directly into the camera.

The boys immediately light up. Miro and Zayden lean closer, all three responding in chorus: "Oh, we love you too!"

The phone passes next to the three crying men from earlier—still sniffling, still clutching tissues.

"That's so sweet," they sob, moved all over again.

Then a male fan jumps into view, holding up a fresh tattoo of Huntr/X's logo with (Name)'s initials woven in. "Yo! I just got this!"

"Sick," Miro says, nodding.

Meanwhile, Rumir and Zayden both squint at the ink, clearly unsure if it's amazing... or terrifying.

Finally, Bobby wrestles his phone back. "Gimme that! Why are you so late?!"

"Late?" Rumir echoes, brows furrowing.

"There are fifty thousand fans waiting for you! They made cute signs and everything!"

At that, the boys all turn to look out the plane window— —and freeze.

The stadium is far behind them.

Way behind.

All three boys slowly shift their glares toward the flight attendant... who's still pouring coffee into the same poor plant.

Bobby's voice keeps going. "How can you be late? I wish you were here—"

Rumir doesn't even look at the screen. "Keep your shirt on. We'll be there in three."

He ends the call without another word.

Both Rumir and Miro groan.

"I didn't even get to finish my ramyeon!" Miro complains.

"Why do they always interrupt our snacking?" Rumir mutters.

Zayden, still chewing chips, growls, "They will face my wrath."

Rumir stands up, adjusting his hoodie as he walks toward the attendant. "Ma'am?"

The flight attendant doesn't turn. "Please take your seat—"

"We don't have time," Rumir cuts her off. His tone sharpens. "You're a demon, right?"

She freezes. "What do you mean?" she says too slowly, too carefully.

"You're smiling weird, watering plants with coffee, and your crew?" Rumir gestures behind her to the male attendants, one of whom is trying to buckle a seatbelt around his neck."They don't even know what a plane is."

"Oh—we were just—" she stammers.

Rumir grabs her wrist and pulls up her sleeve. Purple marks glow faintly along her skin. "Ah, look! Patterns."

"These? They're just—" she tries, but—

THUD.

Rumir steps on her foot. She stumbles back into one of the male crew members—both fall, glitching mid-air before transforming into snarling demon forms.

Rumir doesn't flinch. "The rest of you can come out. We're in a hurry."

Behind him, Zayden and Miro step forward, calm but focused. The atmosphere shifts.

The front of the plane creaks open, and a huge demon steps forward, body covered in pulsing marks.

He sneers. "Oh, you've got the patterns? Well now... you gotta die."

Miro blinks. "The only one dying tonight—"

BURP.

Miro burps loudly, cutting the demon off.

The demon tries again. "I said, the only ones dying tonight are—"

GURGLE.His stomach growls aggressively.

"...I'm sorry, what?" Rumir asks flatly.

"The fans!" the demon roars. "And the one you call (Name)! We're gonna eat them!"

All three boys freeze. Then— "Whoa!" they all shout.

"No. No, no," Miro shakes his head. "No thank you!" Zayden adds.

"Not our fans,"pausing for a second, "not our (Name)..." Rumir growls.

Zayden steps forward, voice low. "When you mess with our fans... and (Name)..."

Miro cracks his knuckles, expression dead serious now. "We need to make it hurt. Bad."

A low rumble starts. Not from the engines—but from the boys themselves.

Music kicks in—low, dark, electric. And around them, the glow of the Honeymoon begins to shine.

Faint at first, but spreading through the cabin like a pulse.

The demons stop grinning.

They feel it too.

Something is waking up.

BUZZ.A sharp vibration breaks the rising Honmoon glow.

Rumir flinches. "Ah—wait, I'm getting a FaceTime."

He yanks his phone from his pocket and stares at the name flashing on the screen:

(Name)

His breath catches. He lets out a dramatic gasp. "Oh my god—OMG." He spins to the others, panic setting in. "Boys! Do I look okay?!"

Zayden and Miro both freeze mid-step, confusion all over their faces.

"I mean, yeah?" Zayden says slowly. "Your face looks like... your face," Miro shrugs.

"Okay good because (Name) is calling—"

"WHAT?!"Miro and Zayden cut him off in perfect sync, suddenly scrambling like they've been hit with lightning.

Zayden flips down the seat mirror, frantically adjusting his bangs.

Miro grabs a napkin from the tray table and tries to blot the shine off his forehead. "Where's my concealer?! I swear I packed it—"

"Check under the seats!" Zayden shouts.

They scramble.

Meanwhile, Rumir is smoothing his hoodie and adjusting the collar like it's couture. "I can't let them see me like this—I've been eating gimbap, for Honmoon's sake—"

The demons stand still, fangs halfway out, claws raised... blinking slowly.

One of them leans toward the other. "Are they... scared of us?"

The other demon shrugs. "...I think they're scared of this (Name) person."

Another nods in agreement, watching Miro lick his thumb to fix a strand of Rumir's hair.

"Humans are weird," the big one mutters.

Still, none of them move.

All three boys freeze as the FaceTime tone continues to ring.

And then... The screen flickers—connecting.

Rumir gasps, phone in hand, posture suddenly perfect.

"Okay. Play it cool," he whispers. "Everyone smile.

The screen connects.

(Name) appears on the phone, though they're not looking directly into the camera—just off to the side, a bit distracted.

"Hey, so... I'm gonna be late to the concert," they say casually.

Rumir's face lights up so fast and so hard it looks physically painful.

"Oh that's fine, (N/N)!" he says, voice cracking slightly as he beams wide enough to make his cheeks twitch.

Zayden and Miro lean in awkwardly behind him, both throwing up double peace signs like they're in a fan café video shoot. Miro mouths: "You look amazing," even though (Name) clearly isn't looking.

(Name), still glancing off-screen, finally looks down at their phone and squints.

Their brow furrows.

"...Why are there demons just standing in the background?"

The boys freeze.

Behind them, the demons—who had momentarily been standing with mild confusion—now shift uncomfortably, realizing they've been noticed.

One of the smaller demons slowly ducks behind a seat.

Another waves.

Rumir immediately spins around, blocking the view with his entire body. "Demons? Pshh—what demons? That's just, uh... our crew. Stage makeup. Very immersive."

Zayden nods way too fast. "Yeah, they're testing out our Halloween concept. Early."

Miro leans into the phone with a tight, fake smile. "Totally normal. Totally controlled. Totally not a demonic ambush mid-flight."

There's a loud snarl from the back.

(Name) raises an eyebrow higher. "...You guys aren't in the stadium, are you?"

Rumir sweats. "...Define stadium."

(Name) gives them the look. The one that says: I'm not mad. I'm just deeply disappointed in how bad you are at lying.

"Rumir," they say slowly, eyes narrowing at the screen, "are you on a plane right now?"

Rumir opens his mouth.

Zayden slaps a hand over it.

Miro jumps in with a shaky laugh. "Plane? Nooo, this is a... sky-themed dressing room. You know. For pre-show vibes. Like a bird. Birds fly. We fly."

(Name) just stares. Flat. Unimpressed.

Behind the boys, a demon slips on a gimbap tray and crashes to the floor with a demonic screech.

(Name) doesn't flinch. "Right. The sky-dressing-room with background screaming."

Zayden leans into frame, chip crumbs still on his mouth. "We can explain."

"No, you can't," (Name) fires back instantly, deadpan. "Because the last time you said that, Miro ended up in a tree dressed like a bat, and Rumir had a glowstick stuck to his forehead for three days."

"That was one time!" Rumir blurts through Zayden's hand.

(Name) sighs and pinches the bridge of their nose.

"I swear, if y'all are fighting demons without me—"

"No!" the boys say in perfect unison.

Pause.

Rumir coughs. "Okay, yes. But just little demons. Tiny ones. Like travel-sized."

One of the demons behind them snarls, ten feet tall, horns scraping the plane ceiling.

(Name) squints at the screen. "That one literally just drooled fire."

Miro spins the camera slightly. "That's—just atmospheric lighting. From the ramyeon. Spicy flavor."

(Name) shakes their head slowly. "You guys are so lucky you're cute."

All three boys immediately soften, grins spreading across their faces like puppies getting praised.

"We know," Rumir says with a hopeful blink.

(Name) smiles, but it fades just slightly.

"Be careful. Seriously," they say, quieter now. "We're not just up against normal demons anymore. Not after what happened..."

The boys go still for a moment.

Zayden looks at Rumir, whose face shifts into something a little more serious.

"We'll be careful," Rumir says, no more joking in his voice now. "Promise."

A demon behind them roars.

Rumir flips the camera back to himself with a wince. "Okay, slight delay on that careful thing. Gotta go, (N/N). Don't worry—"

"We got this," Miro finishes, flashing a wink.

Zayden blows a kiss. "See you soon. Save us a spot."

(Name) rolls their eyes but smirks. "I'll save you a front-row seat in the ER if you die."

Click.The call ends.

The boys stand still for a second, the dark energy rising again around them.

Then Rumir cracks his knuckles. "Okay. Time to turn up."

"Ugh, you came at a bad time but you just cross the line"

The plane shakes as the demons snarl. The boys walk forward through the aisle, calm and deadly. Spotlights darken across their faces.

"You wanna get wild? Okay, I'll show you wild!"

Miro and Zayden bolt forward, kicking off the seats and launching themselves into combat. In one synchronized move, they sweep two snarling demons off their feet, pinning them down with satisfying THUDS against the plane floor.

"Better come right, better luck tryin', gettin' to our level"

Rumir points a finger at the big demon stopping it in its tracks. Getting a hold to a kennel and filling it up with hot water before quickly turning around and doing a front flip kick the demon's face and drop kicking a smaller demon to the ground.

"Cause you might die, never the time, tryna start a battle. Bleeding isn't in my blood, "

He dodges left, letting another demon miss with its claws. One punch to the face, another to the gut—then Rumir grabs the creature by the neck and hurls it across the aisle, where it slams into the big demon's legs. Without missing a beat, he tosses the kettle to Miro.

"Beating you is what I do, do, do, yeah. Body on body, I'm naughty, not even sorry. And when you pull up, I'll pull up"

Miro catches it effortlessly and slams the kettle into a demon's skull, sending it flying into a seat. He tosses the kettle to Zayden, who clubs another one across the head, then casually pours hot water into his ramyeon cup like it's part of the choreography.

Zayden sets the kettle down, and Rumir and Miro line up beside him, each pouring water into their own cup.

"A little late to the party (Na-na-na-na). Locked and loaded, I was born for this. There ain't no point in avoiding it. Annoyed? A bit. 불을 비춰 다 비켜, 네 앞길을 뺏겨."

After beating a few more demons, Miro and Zayden try to eat their ramyeon but not before Rumir takes them away and shows them that you have to wait three minutes. Rumir set their cups down on a table.

"Knocking you out like a lullaby. Hear that sound ringing in your mind. Better sit down for the show. 'Cause I'm gonna show you how it's done, done, done"

Walking to the scared demon. One by one the boys grab their weapons from the Honmoon. Zayden with blades, Miro with a double sided spear, and Rumir with his sword. Killing the demons in the plane one by one.

"(Hey) Huntrix don't miss. How it's done, done, done. (Hey) Huntrix don't quit. How it's done, done, done."

The bodies fall. Smoke and embers rise within the plane.

"Run, run, we run the town. Whole world playin' our sound. Turnin' up, it's goin' down. Huntrix show this, how it's done, done, done"

The plane shakes violently. The boys stumble as the floor tilts. Their ramyeon cups fly up into the air—time seems to freeze.

But they each catch their noodles.

Perfectly.

Rumir looks up at the window.

Outside, the demon flight attendant flaps away with half the plane in her claws, cackling like a banshee.

Two other demons rip off the plane's wing with a sickening metallic snap.

Miro peers out the opening, still holding his cup. "Yeah... this plane's trashed."

All three glance at each other, then scarf down the ramyeon in a single synchronized slurp.

Rumir wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking.

"Okay. Let's do this—again."

(Skipping to when they’re on stage because I’m so done.)

Yeah, something about when you come for the crown

That's so humbling, huh?

Nothing to us, run up, you're done up, we come up

From sunup to sundown, so come out to play

We killin', we bring it, you want it? Okay (Us, hello?)

Knocking you out like a lullaby

Hear that sound ringing in your mind

“Look—it’s them!!” a fan screamed from the crowd, pointing up with wide eyes.

Gasps rippled through the stadium like a wave as thousands of heads turned skyward. Phones lifted, camera lights blinked on, and cheers erupted as three figures soared above the stadium lights—silhouetted against the evening sky.

.Knocking you out like a lullaby

Hear that sound ringing in your mind

Better sit down for the show

'Cause I'm gonna show you (I'm gonna show you)

(I'm gonna show you) How it's done, done, done

As the boys touched down on stage, a thick wave of smoke exploded outward from the impact—engulfing the platform in a blanket of silver haze. Lights flickered beneath the smoke, casting long, sharp shadows across the stage.

The crowd screamed, not just from excitement—but from suspense.

Only silhouettes were visible now: three tall figures standing still, backlit by blinding white lights—sharp, dangerous, calm.

And one more.

A hunched, twitching shape near the corner of the stage—the last demon.

It stumbled forward, its form distorted and glitching, like it didn’t belong in this world. Its eyes glowed red, looking out at the screaming fans as if deciding which one it would take.

I don't talk, but I bite, full of venom (Uh)

Spittin' facts, you know that's

How it's done, done, done

Okay, like, I know I ramble

That's how it's done, done, done

The demon staggers back, growling—but it’s too late.

BOOM. A blast of energy from the stage knocks it flying off balance—straight into the barrier near the front of the crowd. Fans scream and duck—but two girls closest to the crash site barely flinch.

One of them blinks. “Whoa… cool costume!”

The demon snarls, confused.

Click!Her friend holds up her phone, already snapping pictures. “Get in, get in! This is SO going on the fan page—come on, scary boy!”

The demon snarls again, reaching out— FWIP. FWIP. FWIP.

Three blades fly from the stage in perfect sync—Zayden.The blades slice through the demon before it can even turn.

POOF— It bursts into glitter.Silver and violet dust spirals through the air, raining over the girls like confetti.

The girls freeze, then cheer like they’re in the front row of a fireworks show. “YEAHHH HUNTR/X!!!”

Up on stage, Miro struts forward, singing his verse with a smirk, walking the runway-like edge of the platform.

The beat drops.

Zayden jumps down, crouching at the edge of the stage, his voice cutting like a knife as he raps into the crowd, the spotlight swirling around him.

Then—BAM! He kicks the camera in front of him, sending it flying into the sky, where it explodes in a burst of sparkling pixels.

Hear our voice unwavering

'Til our song defeats the night

Makin' fear afraid to breathe

Rumir takes center stage.

He hits the high note—strong, pure, electrifying. It echoes like a wave across the arena.

Then something strange and beautiful happens.

In the crowd, little glows start to appear. One by one. Faint, then brighter.

Souls.

Glowing soft blue within each fan’s chest. Hundreds—then thousands. Like stars rising from the sea of bodies.

The Honmoon reacts. Pulses. Then glows—blinding blue.

The entire stadium lights up like it’s made of galaxies.

Run, run, we run the town (Done, done, done)

Whole world playin' our sound (Done, done, done)

Turnin' up, it's going down (Done, done, done)

Huntrix, show this how it's done, done, done

We hunt you down, down, down (Down)

(Done, done, done)

We got you now, now, now (Got you now)

(Done, done, done)

We show you how, how, how (Show you how)

Huntrix, don't miss, how it's done, done, done

As the boy dances on stage, the crowd sings along with him, voices rising like a tidal wave of energy. Amid the sea of lights and sound, Rumir, Miro, and Zayden catch a glimpse of something extraordinary—part of the Honmoon pulsing with a golden glow. The moment locks them in place. Their eyes meet, a silent understanding passing between them. They push harder, singing louder, dancing with renewed force—determined to make that golden light blaze brighter.

Then, as the final note echoes through the arena, the three boys strike their final pose.

And just like that—everything goes black.

Only the soft shimmer of glowsticks remains, scattering light like fireflies across the stunned audience. Confusion spreads like wildfire.

“Hey, what happened to the lights?” a fan calls out, but their voice trails off as something shifts.

Suddenly, every screen around the stadium lights up in perfect sync, revealing a figure staring down from above, cloaked in shadows but lit just enough for the smirk on their face to gleam through.

“They turned off the lights to hide the truth,” the voice says, cold and clear, dripping with confidence. “But I don’t need a stage to own a crowd. You were just keeping my seat warm, Huntr/x… because now—someone new has arrived.”

The camera zooms in.

(Name) stands there, smiling wickedly—and the crowd erupts into chaos. And Huntr/x? They’re in love all over again.

Taglist (Comment if you want to be more I so sorry I forgot to add you guys to the other fic): @satansdaughter123, @reni502, @zomqiez, @sylum, @bad4amficideas, @apelepikozume, @notheroverthinker, @snowy-violet, @jackiebluh, @sunflowers4life, @elli4ever, @pl4netx1a

[dex0s]

REWRITE ON, "DON'T WORRY 'BOUT A THING"

PROLOGUE, ONE>>>>TWO

WORD COUNT: 1.8K+ WARNINGS: GWI-MA BEING NICE?

(A/N): I'm thinking of doing daily updates... I have a itch to make a book for Kenji Sato from Ultraman b/c ughhhhhh. I think I have a type...

"Mr. Flamey!" (Name) grabs the flame like creature with a harsh grip. "Ack!--" 'Mr. Flamey', the flame-like being jerks back, struggling in their hand before slipping free with a soft pop of heat, landing ungracefully on the edge of the child's bed.

It shivers, smoke curling from its edges as it glares back at them. "Where the hell—heck! did you get that grip from, child?" it scolds, quickly correcting itself, though the irritation burns through its words.

Mr. Flamey frowns at (Name) slowly the flames increase, "Sweetheart... Why do you smell like a human boy?"(Name) blinks at the creature, once... twice... as if the question hadn't fully landed in their head yet. Then, casually—too casually—they shrug their shoulders. "Oh... I was hanging out with my new friend, Rumir." (Name) say, like it's the most normal thing in the world.

Mr. Flamey doesn't respond at first. He just floats there, glowing dimmer by the second. "Rumir..." he repeats, more breath than voice. His flames sputter slightly, the edges of him curling in like he's trying to hold himself together.

(Name) keeps talking, unaware of the storm gathering inside the creature. "He... he had marks just like me," (Name) says softly, their eyes distant.

They sit on the edge of the bed, cradling Mr. Flamey in their lap, arms wrapped around the flickering creature like a warm stuffed toy. "And our other friends too." The words hang in the air for a second too long. Mr. Flamey doesn't respond, but his flames pulse ever so slightly, like a muscle twitching under the skin. He loathes that word—our friends. Your friends, he thinks bitterly. His violet flame mouth frowns just a little. My creations. My pieces. My watchers. My leash. Not that you know.

(Name)'s fingers slowly brush over the glowing marks on their arm, peeking through the thin fabric of their sleeve. "Now that I think about it..." they whisper, their tone shifting into something more thoughtful. "Where are they? They're always here with me." They glance down at Mr. Flamey, who remains still in their arms. "They're here—" he starts to say, the words trailing like smoke, low and sharp. But he's interrupted by the soft pressure of a hand landing gently on (Name)'s head. "Hey there, kid." The voice is smooth, relaxed, but it cuts through the quiet like the sudden snap of a twig in a silent forest. (Name)'s breath catches. They slowly turn around.

Standing behind them is a tall figure—broad-shouldered, dressed in a long black trench coat, short dark hair slightly tousled, and a calm, easy grin on his face. His eyes—dark, steady, unreadable—look down at (Name) like he already knows what they've been thinking.

"Ah—Mr. Jinu..." (Name)'s face softens with recognition. There's a flicker of relief in their chest. "Are the other four with you?" Jinu steps to the side, motioning with his hand. And just like that, they're there.

Five figures. All familiar. All strange.

First comes Abby, tall and broad and grinning like he forgot what the question was. He waves, already eating something sticky from a plastic bag. (Name) always thought he was the dumbest of the five—and so did Mr. Flamey. But strong? Probably. Maybe even dangerous, if he ever remembered what he was supposed to be doing.

Next is Mystery. The second-coolest, always standing like he knows he's in a poster. His hands are in his pockets. His hat and hair are always down, hiding his face. He rarely talks—but when he does, he says things like he's quoting old ghost stories, and never clarifies what he means. (Name) likes him... sometimes.

Then there's Romance. Oh. Romance.

(Name) bites their cheek trying not to laugh. Romance is the one who recites love quotes in front of mirrors. They caught him once whispering, "Even in death, I would wait for you," to a flower vase. Mr. Flamey nearly extinguished himself from secondhand embarrassment.

Following behind is Baby.

They don't talk about Baby.

(Name) doesn't even try to describe him anymore. Just a sigh, and a shake of the head. All anyone needs to know is that he lives up to his name. Emotionally, physically, spiritually.

And last...

Jinu.

Always Jinu.

(Name) looks back at him, still standing closest, still smiling.

Out of all of them, Jinu always felt normal. Not like the others. Not like some weird dream dressed in human clothes. He laughed at the right times. Ate food. Got tired. Didn't float or sparkle or speak in riddles. He felt like gravity.

Cooler than the rest because he felt real.

"Alright now! Forget about them, (Name)—back to that boy. Rumir." Mr. Flamey's voice sharpens as his small body flares in their arms, the edges of his flames licking higher with irritation. "What did I tell you about getting close to... humans."

His words aren't just angry—they're possessive. Coated in the heat of something deeper. Something jealous. (Name) blinks. Once. Then twice. Not startled. Just tired. Their fingers curl around the glass of water sitting patiently on the nightstand. Cool, calm, untouched. And without a single word, they pour it.

Splash.

The water hits him mid-rant, dousing his flame with a violent hiss. A burst of steam shoots up, swirling around their faces like a ghost, and Mr. Flamey's words cut off in a sharp cough. He sputters, his form flickering violently, limbs crackling and curling into himself as the fire stutters low. His once-vibrant glow is now a damp, sulking shimmer.

He looks up.

Wide ember eyes blink up at them, shocked—offended even—as if (Name) had just committed some form of unspeakable betrayal. But (Name) doesn't flinch. Their expression stays still. Quiet. "You done...?" Their voice is flat. Not harsh. Not cruel. Just tired in the way only a child too burdened can sound.

"Psk—"

A sudden, choked sound escapes from the side.All five boys—Abby, Mystery, Romance, Baby, and Jinu—who had been watching from around the room, instantly whipped their heads in the opposite direction.Their shoulders shake, trying to muffle the laughter clawing up their throats. Romance bites his sleeve. Abby grips the doorframe. Baby covers his entire face with both hands. Even Mystery—usually quiet—lets out a soft, involuntary wheeze. Jinu clears his throat, turning back toward (Name) with a straight face, but his lips twitch, betraying him.

Mr. Flamey, still steaming in (Name)'s lap like a damp coal, narrows his eyes. "Traitors," he mutters under his breath. (Name) gently places the empty glass back on the nightstand and pulls their knees up to hug themself. "You don't get to yell about my friends," you murmured without looking at him. "Especially not Rumir. He's like me."

The room quiets.

"I– kid..." His voice drops, lower now, quieter than a whisper. A flicker in the dark. "I'm just... trying to protect you." His violet gaze shifts toward the corner of the room where the others still linger—watchful but pretending not to listen. Mr. Flamey leans in closer, flames dimmed just enough to not burn."Unlike that guardian you've got," he mutters, the words curling like smoke between the two of you. His voice never rises, never dares to carry across the room.

'You have a power that can change everything.' He doesn't say it aloud. But he thinks it—burns with it—as he looks up at you in your tired little body, clutching your knees, soft-eyed and quiet. So small. Too small for what you hold.

You rub at your eyes. Once. Twice.

And just like that, he knows the signal.

His fire dies down even more, cooling at the edges. He lets out a sigh, low and old, like it's coming from someone much bigger than the small thing sitting in your lap. "Alright, kid..." he murmurs, moving himself away a little. "That's enough for tonight. It's bedtime for you." With a flick of his wrist, the dresser beside your bed shifts an inch with a soft thud—his silent way of signaling the boys.

Jinu is the first to move. Quiet, gentle. He walks over and kneels beside the bed. Abby comes next, his hands clumsy but warm. Baby's already holding the blanket. Romance hums a lullaby under his breath, something he probably thinks no one hears. And Mystery—Mystery just stands at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, eyes on you like always. Together, they help tuck you in. Mr. Flamey stays back, flames dancing, watching you with a quiet heaviness behind his glow. Maybe you don't notice it.

But as your eyes flutter closed and your breath slows, he watches you like someone guarding the last ember in a dying world.

The room goes still once (Name)'s breathing evens out. Their lashes rest soft on flushed cheeks, and one small hand clutches the edge of the blanket like it might disappear in the night. The glow from Mr. Flamey casts flickers along the wall, but he's silent now. Watching. Always watching.

The boys linger a moment longer, unmoving. Then, as if some invisible signal is passed, they start to shift.

Jinu is the first to speak, voice low, barely more than a breath. "You think Gwi-ma gonna keep dragging this out forever?"

Abby grunts. "He's obsessed. Not with them. With what they can do."

Romance, sitting crisscross at the foot of the bed, leans back with a dreamy sigh. "They're powerful. Beautiful. A little tragic. If I was a god, I'd be obsessed too..."

"You're not a god," Mystery cuts in sharply, arms still crossed, eyes on the sleeping child. "You're an idiot who quotes poetry to his cereal."

Baby snorts—too loud—and clamps his hands over his mouth, eyes darting toward (Name). When they don't stir, he exhales in relief. "I think they're just a kid," he whispers, almost like a confession. "A really sweet one. I don't like all this prophecy stuff..."

"Of course you don't," Abby says, rolling his eyes. "You still cry when someone takes your pudding."

"I like pudding," Baby mutters.

"We all do," Jinu says gently, before turning his eyes to the small shape under the blanket. His voice lowers even more. "They don't know what's coming."

Mystery nods once. "Neither does Gwi-ma. He thinks he's controlling it all. But he's not."

Romance shifts, letting the edge of the blanket slip from his fingers. "It's starting, isn't it?"

Silence.

Then Jinu stands, brushing dust off his knees. "It's been starting."

The other boys slowly get up too, forming a quiet circle around the shadows, all of them pausing for just a second to glance back at the one person they're all tied to— by their mistakes

Gwi-ma, who hadn't moved since the conversation began, finally speaks. "Not a word of this to them. Not yet."

His voice is calm. Controlled. But his flames flicker sharp at the edges.

Jinu looks at him evenly. "We're not the ones lying to them."

Then the five are gone, slipping into the shadows, leaving only the flickering light and a child who dreams in glowing marks.

"무엇보다당신을위해곁에있고싶어요... 하지만내가너무가까이다가가면세상이나대신당신에게발톱을돌릴것입니다. 멀리서당신을사랑하는것이당신을보호하는유일한방법입니다."

I hate tags like who invented them…

[dex0s]

REWRITE ON, "DON'T WORRY 'BOUT A THING"

PROLOGUE>>>>ONE

WORD COUNT: 1K+ WARNINGS: GENDERBEND HUNTR/X

(A/N): Not going to lie but I hated the way I was going to end the original... like everyone was going to get a happy ending. NO! so, rewrite plus I didn't like the writing style I was going for. I'm still going to keep the original up but I'm not updating it...

P/S- On wattpad you get exclusive things but don't worry I will have tumblr exclusive things too. But let me know if you want a taglist for this one

"Rumir this is (Name), and (Name) this is Rumir"

Rumir peeks from Celine's legs looking at the 5-year-old in front of him. He looks up at Celine with hesitation then points his staring at (Name).

"It's okay Rumir, go say, 'Hi', me and (name) guardian have to have an adult convention." Bending down, Celine grabs Rumir's hand and guides her in front of her. Celine gets up and looks at the adult in front of her with a serious look in her eyes and nods her head to the side to indicate they can talk somewhere away from the children.

For a little bit the two kids just stare at each other before Rumir builded up the courage to speak up. "It's nice to meet you..." (Name) continues to look at the Rumir before tilting their head to the side. Blinking at Rumir, (Name) narrows their eyes at him.

"You're a demon, aren't you." Rumir stands in shock because his marks are hidden but somehow (Name) knew.

"H-how do you know that–" (Name) takes Rumir's arm before pulling up the sleeve of his hoodie. "They glow... I can see them glow from under your hoodie" pushing (Name) away from him, he looks at them, breathing unsteady.

"I'm not a demon– I'm a hunter, these marks are just marks. They're not me!" Rumir backs away from (Name), Tightly closing his eyes he bends down with his arms wrapped around his body as if he's protecting himself from the world. The same world that would eat him alive if it found his true self.

Feeling a hand on his head, combing his hair. Peeking up from his arms he sees little (name) bend down with him with a sorry look in their eyes. "I didn't mean to offend you... if it makes you better, I have marks myself." Taking back their hand from his hair, they push up their own sleeve.

Letting the marks be shown, "M-mine are a little different from yours but– I thought if you see you're not the only one with marks you would feel better" Rumir stares at your marks, same yet different in their own way, the color is... different they aren't fully purple. They have other colors that glow in between the purple. Like a rainbow that stays, even when the storm has passed.

Wiping his eyes, he fully looks up at (Name) pause before continuing, "So... you're like me" (Name) nods their head quickly when given the question. Rumir thinks for a little then gives (Name) a little smile before jumping up from his feet. "Hey! You're just like me!" Rumir pulls you up before making up, jumping around in a circle, smiling down at you as he gets closer to your face. "Now your mark is mine, and my mark is yours!" (Name) looks up at Rumir's face before smiling with him.

"Come! We should tell Celine!" Pushing on (Name) hand, Rumir runs over Celine and (Name) guardian that are near the huge tree in the backyard.

"They're connected to the Honmoon, they have to stay here for the safety of the Honmoon and everyone!"

"They're just a child Celine! You can't–"

"Celine!"

Both of the two adults stop talking after hearing little Rumir. Once Rumir gets close enough to the adults. He takes a deep breath before quickly raising (Name) arm up. The sleeve rolls down their arm letting the marks glow in front of Celine and (Name) guardian.

Celine eyes grow wide seeing the marks on the child arm, turning her head to the other adult. She whispers something to them. Both of the kids stare at the adults that are whispering to each other.

"Do they not see that we are right here?" Rumir leans towards (Name) with confusion on his face. (Name) looks at Rumir before looking at the adult seeing they are getting more rowdy.

"I'm done Celine! – come on (Name)..." (name) guardian walks over to the two kids about to grab (Name). Rumir wraps his arms around (Name) and pulls them away from the adult. "No! You can take them! We're connected so you can't take my other piece away!" Rumir yells at them with tears forming in his eyes, making the hug tighter and tighter he buried his face in (Name) hair. "I– Rumir, (Name) need to go home" (Name) guardian tries to grab (Name) from Rumir's grasp again, but Rumir just turns the opposite direction from the hand.

"Rumir let (Name) go"

"But Celine–"

"Let go."

With a lot of hesitation, Rumir finally let's go of (Name). (Name) stumbles for a little bit before they feel themself being lifted up from the ground. "Maybe Next Time you and (Name) can play longer" the older adult rubs their hand in Rumir hair.

Pushing their hand away Rumir glared at them, changing his eyes to (Name) his mouth starts to wobble. Running to Celine's legs, he hugs them crying on her Celine. Bending down a little, Celine runs her hand through Rumir hair comforting the child.

"It's okay Rumir, (Name) will be back soon." (Name) guardian feels a little unease from Celine's sentences but nods at her request, no demand. Rumir removes his face from Celine's legs and waves a hand to (Name), "Bye-bye (Name)!" (Name) gives a small wave back to Rumir before they leave.

After both (Name) and their guardian leaves, Celine lifts Rumir in her arms with her and his foreheads touching. "Rumir, I have a question for you can you answer it?" Rumir eyes light up from the anticipation and give Celine a firm nod.

"Did you feel something when you saw (Name) marks?" giving Rumir a questioning face, "Yes! Yes, I did, it was quick to l–like a pull that made me want to stay with (Name) forever!" Rumir smiles at Celine, and Celine smiles back before moving Rumir's head to her shoulder. She begins to hum a lullaby while walking back to the house. What Rumir didn't notice was that the smile was a happy smile, no. It was a sinister smile.

With (Name), they just got put to bed. Closing your eyes, you hear a knock on your window. A knock you know by heart. Quickly but silently, you open the window, smiling at who it is you whisper. "Mr.Flamey!"

[dex0s]

Ngl I’m probably going to rewrite the “don’t worry ‘bout a thing because I just finished writing all of it and I don’t like it… so yeah I’m going to rewrite… plus I don’t like the new writing style I picked (it’s still going to have the same concept, just a different style)

[dex0s]

DON'T WORRY 'BOUT A THING// YAN!KPDH x READER

WORD COUNT: 2.7K

WARNING:: YANDERE?, OOC GWI-MA, PLOT, THIS IS BEING REWRITTEN!!!!

CHAPTER 3 <<< CHAPTER 4 (Here)

(A/N):these three chapters are discontinued but it’s being rewritten I’m just keeping these up if people want to take this idea not the other one I’m writing

As you step through the front door of your house, a strange stillness greets you—familiar, yet almost surreal. The soft creak of the floorboards beneath your feet echoes like a question in your mind. You pause, glancing around, wondering if everything that just happened was nothing more than a strange, vivid dream.

Maybe none of it was real.

Maybe it was all just your imagination. But then your thoughts drift to Rual. The memory of his smile, his voice, the way he looked at you—it all comes rushing back like a warm wave.

And suddenly, you know. If Rual was part of that dream... then you never want to wake up. That wouldn't be just a dream. It would be the best dream ever.

But deep down, you know better.

This isn't a dream. This is reality. A reality steeped in shadows, one where demons walk freely, where the rules you once lived by no longer apply.

It's a world wrapped in layers of the unknown, where truth hides behind riddles and every answer only leads to more questions. Mysteries linger in the corners of your vision, just out of reach, whispering warnings you can't quite understand.

And yet... this is your world now. Real. Dangerous. Unforgiving. But still, somehow, breathtakingly alive.

But what if those so-called mysteries aren't mysteries at all? What if they're simply truths, fragments of information buried by time, forgotten by the world but not lost forever?

The thought hits you like a spark in the dark.

Your heart lurches with urgency. Without thinking, you break into a speed walk, almost a run, feet thudding against the floor as you make your way to your bedroom. You push open the door, breath catching in your throat.

There it is. Sitting on your desk like a beacon of hope in a collapsing world—your computer. Your lovely, loyal tool. Cold, glowing, silent. But maybe it holds the answers. Maybe the secrets you're desperate to uncover have been sitting there all along, just waiting for the right questions.

You drop into your chair without hesitation, your fingers already dancing across the keys before your mind fully catches up.

What is the Honmoon?

The screen blinks, loading.

Can you have one soul but two bodies?

That one makes you hesitate for a second. The question feels too big, too impossible. But you hit enter anyway. You're not here to play it safe.

The history of the Honmoon. What is the meaning behind the Honmoon. Are demons real?

One question after another, you chase the answers like you're chasing oxygen. A sense of urgency buzzes in your veins. Every click, every scroll feels like peeling back layers of something ancient—something long buried beneath silence, denial, and fear.

Somewhere, deep down, you know this is only the beginning. But at least now... you're finally looking.

And there it is.

Your breath catches as your eyes lock onto the screen. The answer, the reason behind all of this chaos, the thread tying everything together, appears like it was waiting for you.

"Honmoon and the History Behind It."

Your heart thuds louder. You click it without hesitation. It's not even a modern article, not a blog post, not a research paper. It's a PDF, scanned images of pages from an ancient, time-worn book. The pages are yellowed and uneven, the ink faded in places, but the words still pulse with weight—like they've been holding their breath for centuries, waiting to be read again.

"Whatever," you mutter, dragging a hand down your face. "I just need to know how the hell I'm connected to this."

You sigh, but your eyes stay locked on the screen.

Then you begin.

The first page is written in ornate script; each letter carved like it was never meant to be forgotten. At the top, a phrase stands out in bold:

"The Honmoon: The Soul's Divide."

Your pulse quickens.

You scroll.

A hand-drawn diagram of a body split in two. Two figures sharing the same soul at their core, stares back at you. The text around it speaks of ancient rituals, cosmic laws, and forgotten truths. It explains how the Honmoon is not just a bond... it is a mirror, a tether, a curse and a gift. A soul split across time, across flesh, meant to awaken only when the world is on the brink of collapse—or evolution.

And suddenly... it's not just a search anymore.

It's your story. Or past story

You lean in closer.

Because this isn't just information anymore.

This may be the key to your future. Or your undoing.

You stare at the screen, heart slowing to a deep, steady beat as the pages begin to unfold a story—not in words, but in pictures. Ancient illustrations, weathered with age, yet strikingly detailed, begin to tell a tale older than language itself.

On the first page: A demon, tall and regal, a jagged crown atop its horned head, sits slouched in sorrow. Its face is drawn in heavy shadows, eyes hollow, lips pulled into a deep frown. Loneliness radiates from the ink like heat.

The next image: A human—or something that looks human—approaches the demon, hand outstretched. In its palm is a glowing object shaped like a heart, though it pulses with light, not blood. The two figures speak, but the language is written in symbols you can't understand. Still, the moment feels... intimate. Sacred.

You scroll again. Now the crowned demon wields that heart-shaped power. It uses it—on others, on the world, on the very human who gave it. But something has changed. The human figure stands at a distance, no longer reaching out, but watching. Saddened. Disappointed.

The next page: The figure, crying now, takes the glowing heart back. The demon is reaching out, pleading. Symbols spiral out of the figure's mouth, sharp and jagged like broken glass. Then, in the final frame of the sequence, the figure fades—vanishing in a swirl of ink and shadow—leaving the demon alone, kneeling, arms outstretched in silent desperation.

And then, the last page.

You freeze.

A detailed drawing stares back at you—eyes. Wide, cold, and unblinking. The pupils are thin slits, like a predator's, surrounded by intricate runes and swirling smoke. They look straight at you. Through the screen. Through you.

Your skin crawls.

Beneath the image, a final line in modern text—a translation.

"By thread and smoke I weave the night,

A name once breathed, now locked from light.

I watch, I wait, I call you near.

Through the walls of thoughts, through the dreams and fears.

What's bound in want is mine within."

You read it aloud without thinking. The words fall from your lips like someone else is speaking through you.

flicker. The lights blink twice.

Then they begin to stutter wildly.

Your computer screen glitches, distorting into unreadable symbols. And then—the ground trembles. Your whole house groans. Furniture rattles, the window creaks in protest. Earthquake?

Panicking, you duck under your desk, heart slamming against your ribs.

Then you see it.

The air ripples like heat above a stove, and from the center of your room pink flames burst into life—swaying unnaturally, dancing in silence. Within them, a grin appears—wide, monstrous, and made of purple fire, curling into an expression that's nothing but hunger and glee.

It doesn't blink. It doesn't move. But it knows you're there. And it's smiling just for you.

".다간 가내 제이 니으렀불 을양 내"

The air grows thick—too thick to breathe. Your chest tightens as the flames shift and twist, taking on a form that feels impossibly old, impossibly familiar.

And then... it speaks.

Its voice is layered—low, echoing, threaded with whispers that don't match its mouth. It speaks as though it's waited eons, as though time itself bent backward just for this meeting.

"You are back..."

You freeze.

Your mouth opens, but no words come. Your throat is dry, your thoughts scattering like ash in wind. What do you say when a flaming demon is standing inches from your reality?

Nothing. You just stare, trembling, lips parted in silent shock.

If it had a human face—if it had a soul—you're sure it would've tilted its head just then, curious, like a dog listening to its master. Instead, it remains still, flickering, fire crackling softly in the quiet like a heartbeat in a cave.

Then its flames shift.

With a hiss and a gust of heat, the swirling fire contorts and tightens. Flesh. Skin. A face. A body. The fire morphs until it's no longer just a demon—it's him. The demon from the book. The one who lost everything. The one who fell from grace because of power.

The one who was left behind.

His humanlike form steps toward you, slow and deliberate. His eyes—slitted and ancient—glow with an unreadable mix of pain and obsession. He doesn't blink. He doesn't stop.

You scramble back on the floor, pressing your back against the wall.

"S-Stay back!" you shout, but your voice is thin—weak against the weight of his presence.

He doesn't listen.

He leans down, face inches from yours, and his flaming hand, now shaped like a man's but still burning with otherworldly heat, grabs your face.

It doesn't burn—but it should. It feels like fire and ice and memory all at once.

He studies you.

Eyes scanning, not just your face, but you—like he's peeling back layers, looking through your skin, into your blood, into your soul.

His expression softens, and he whispers, voice trembling with something between wonder and grief:

"I lost you so long ago," he murmurs, his voice breaking like a cracked bell, low and mournful. "So long ago, I thought I would never see you again... my love."

The words hit you like a thunderclap. My love.

You sit frozen, heart thudding painfully in your chest. Your mouth is slightly open, but there's nothing to say. What could you say?

The man—no, the demon—kneels before you now, his flaming hand still gently holding your face, his eyes locked on yours as if you're the only thing left holding his universe together.

You stare back.

Not out of courage, but because you can't look away. He's too beautiful in that otherworldly way, too sad, too haunted. Like a forgotten god grieving something he once had and never deserved.

"You don't remember... do you?" he asks softly, his voice almost tender. His expression falters for just a moment—like hope slipping through his fingers. "Not yet."

A flicker of flame trails down his cheek like a tear. Then he leans in closer, his forehead nearly touching yours.

"Let me help you... my love."

Before you can react, before you can speak, he places two fingers gently against the center of your forehead. The contact burns and soothes at the same time—a searing sensation that wraps around your mind like a velvet chain.

And then—the world vanishes.

Flashes flood your mind.

Under the earth's crust under the hot fires Your own hands, glowing with the same light as the heart-shaped object in the book. The demon—him—kneeling before you once again, only in another life, another world, whispering your name with such longing it aches in your chest even now. A war. A betrayal. A goodbye soaked in sorrow.

And just as quickly, it's gone.

You gasp as you're pulled back into your bedroom, heart racing, skin clammy with sweat.

But nothing's the same now.

Because a part of you—some hidden, ancient part—is whispering back:

You knew him. You loved him. And you left him.

Gwi-Ma. The name echoes in your skull like a drumbeat from a memory you didn't know you had.

The Demon King. The one you once loved. The one you left... because of his hunger for power. Because he chose the throne over you.

Now here he is again, not as a dream or a myth, but flesh, flame, and fury.

You feel him—really feel him—his hand grasping at you beneath the desk, his grip firm but not cruel, pulling you closer, dragging you toward him with a desperate kind of reverence.

"N-No!" you shout, panic rising in your throat like bile. You cling to the desk leg, fingers turning white from how tightly you grip it. "Let me go! I'm not the same person you lost!"

His eyes darken. The fire around him pulses—anger crackling in the air like a storm brewing.

"Yes, you are," he growls, voice thunderous now, all gentleness gone. "You're the same. You feel it—don't lie to me."

His face is closer now, twisted in frustration and longing. "Don't fight me. Just come with me... so we can go home."

Home.

The word makes your stomach twist.

"No, no, no!" you scream, voice rising into a piercing pitch, raw and full of something ancient and terrified.

Then—light.

A sudden, blinding golden glow erupts from your chest, bursting through the front of your shirt like a star being born. Gwi-Ma jerks back, startled. His hand falls away from your skin, his eyes widening—not in anger, but in awe and recognition.

Beneath him, the Honmoon—the symbol, the force, whatever it is—flares to life. A brilliant, sacred light floods the room. The same kind of glow from the book. From the past.

He stumbles backward, shielding his face with one arm as the light intensifies.

And for the first time, he hesitates.

His gaze lingers on you, expression unreadable—torn between fury and heartbreak.

"You can run..." he says, his voice now low and edged with something bitter. "But know this..."

His flames twist upward, licking the ceiling, curling around his body.

"I will always be in your shadow."

With that, the pink fire swallows him whole. A swirl of embers. A hiss. And he's gone.

The room is silent again.

Your chest still glows faintly, slowly fading. You're alone. For now.

But the words linger in the air like smoke.

Your phone starts ringing, its shrill tone cutting through the eerie silence like a knife. You flinch, the sound jarring after everything that just happened. For a moment, you just stare at it, still sitting under the desk, the faint glow on your chest finally gone.

Your legs feel shaky, but you force yourself to move. With effort, you crawl out and stand, one hand gripping the desk to steady yourself. Your right leg trembles under your weight, residual fear or maybe something deeper, but you manage to shuffle out into the living room, the ringing growing louder with every uneven step.

You pick up the phone without even checking the caller ID.

“Hey,” comes a familiar voice, warm, casual, unaware of the chaos you just lived through. “You have a show request with the Saja boys tomorrow. Do you want to do it?”

It’s Rual.

His voice feels like a rope tying you back to normal life, but your mind is still spinning. The Saja boys. The memory hits you instantly, Huntr/x calling them demons. Those yellow eyes. The glowing marks. The strange aura they carried like armor.

And after everything you’ve just seen, the book, the flames, the pink fire, Gwi-Ma, you believe it now.

The Saja boys are not normal.

They might know what the Honmoon really is. They might know who you really are. They might even know how to stop whatever the hell is happening.

But what if they’re dangerous? What if you're walking into something you’re not ready for?

You barely made it out of one encounter. You don’t know how to fight demons. You don’t even fully remember yourself yet.

Still, you think of the golden light, the way it burned out of your chest. Whatever this Honmoon is, it’s a part of you and you’re starting to realize you can’t run from it anymore.

After a pause, you steady your breath and lift the phone back to your ear.

“Yeah… sure,” you say slowly. “I’ll go.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end. Then Rual speaks again, teasingly, “That didn’t sound very confident.”

You manage a small, dry laugh. “I’m just… tired.”

“Fair enough.”

You hesitate for a second, then add, “But… I have a request for the Saja boys.”

Rual hums, suddenly curious. “A request?”

“Yeah. It’s important. Can you set it up?”

You don’t say more. Not yet.

You don’t know how much you can trust anyone right now. But if there’s even the slightest chance that the Saja boys hold the key to this puzzle You're ready to take the risk.

TAGLIST (Comment on this post to be put on) : @reni502, @zomqiez, @sylum, @bad4amficideas, @apelepikozume, @notheroverthinker

[dex0s]

DON'T WORRY 'BOUT A THING// YAN!KPDH x READER

WORD COUNT: 1.9K

WARNING:YANDERE TENDENCY (wait until the next chapter...) REWRITING

CHAPTER 2 <<< CHAPTER 3 (Here) >>>> CHAPTER 4

(A/N): these three chapters are discontinued but it’s being rewritten I’m just keeping these up if people want to take this idea not the other one I’m writing

AT HUNTR/X HOUSE

"So, let me get this straight," you blurt out, words tumbling over each other in disbelief. "Demons are actually real like, real real, and they're trying to destroy this thing called the Honmoon, which I still don't even understand. And the Saja boys... they're demons too? Or whatever?" Your voice rises slightly with each sentence, the confusion piling up. "And somehow, I'm connected to all of this... because my emotions my feelings apparently affect the Honmoon?" You pause, staring at Rumi with wide eyes, as if seeing her for the first time. "Seriously, what are you? Are you even human?"

"What?" Rumi's eyes widen, her expression flickering with something between panic and awkward surprise. She looks between Mira and Zoey, as if silently begging them for backup, but they don't say a word. "W-What? O Of course I'm human!" she says, her voice a little too high pitched to sound convincing. Her eyes dart nervously before landing back on you. "What kind of question is that?" she adds with an exaggerated laugh, plastering on the biggest, most forced smile you've ever seen, like a kid caught sneaking candy and trying way too hard to act normal.

You glance at Mira and Zoey, and all three of you share the same bewildered expression—eyebrows raised, lips slightly parted, heads tilted just enough to silently ask, Did she really just say that?

Rumi clears her throat and straightens up, her cheerful act vanishing like a mask being pulled away. "Anyway," she says, voice suddenly sharp and focused, "back to the real problem. You can't trust the Saja boys."

Her tone sends a ripple of tension through the room.

Zoey moves quickly, almost too quickly, plopping down next to you on the couch with a sudden burst of energy. "Yeah! You should totally stay away from them" She pauses, then lights up. "Oh! Did I ever tell you I'm, like, a huge fan of your music?"

"Zoey," Rumi and Mira say in perfect unison, both staring at her with that older sibling look of disappointment and mild judgment.

Zoey winces, turning to flash them an apologetic grin. "Right! Right, sorry, off topic. Very off topic." She quickly refocuses on you, her tone shifting back to serious, well, as serious as Zoey gets. "But really, you should stay away from those demons. Or any demons, honestly. Matter of fact..." Her eyes sparkle mischievously, "Why don't you just stay with us? We can keep you safe. Protected. You'd be totally demon free and also surrounded by your fans." She beams at you, her smile wide and oddly reassuring.

"Um" You hesitate, glancing between the three girls. Their faces are nearly identical: wide smiles, eyes sparkling a little too brightly, like they're way too excited about the idea of keeping you here forever.

"Well..." you say slowly, backing up half a step, "as tempting as that offer sounds, I think I should, uh, head home. Try to clear my head, maybe get my brain out of the emotional dumpster fire it's currently in."

Just then, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out and glance at the screen.

Rual: Hey, are you ready to leave? I've got the car running. Just come down when you're ready.

"Oh, look at that," you say, waving your phone like a get out of jail free card. "Just got a message from Rual. He's downstairs waiting, sooo... I better get going, you know?"

You start walking slowly toward the elevator, trying not to sprint. Each step feels like you're escaping a velvet lined trap.

"Wait a minute," Rumi calls out behind you. Her tone has shifted again, urgent now, like she suddenly remembered something important. You hear her footsteps following you.

You reach the elevator and step inside, slapping the "First Floor" button a little harder than necessary. The doors begin to close, but Rumi moves fast, almost too fast.

You give her a tight, nervous smile as the gap between the doors narrows. "Bye-bye! See you guys!" you say in a sing song tone that doesn't quite mask your panic.

"Hey, wait! I have one more thing to say--!" Rumi lunges forward, arm half extended like she's going to stop the doors.

But it's too late.

Ding.

The doors shut with a soft whoosh, cutting her off mid-sentence. Her voice is silenced, and you're left alone in the elevator, heart pounding.

The hum of the elevator moving downward is the only sound now, but your thoughts are racing. What exactly did she want to say? And why did it feel like the second you let your guard down, something really weird was going to happen?

You grip your phone tighter, your thumb hovering over Rual's contact. Just in case.

As the elevator glides down, you lean back against the wall, feeling the vibrations in your spine, but your thoughts are louder than the soft hum around you.

Demons... Honmoon... and I'm somehow the center of it all?

You let out a shaky breath, eyes fixed on the glowing floor numbers as they tick down, but your mind is spinning. The fear creeping into your chest has nothing to do with a concert or paparazzi ambush—it's the kind that settles deep, like ice in your bones. Not even the thousands of flashing cameras or screaming fans you've faced feel this overwhelming.

You're a global icon. Everyone knows your name. Your songs have topped charts in nearly every country. You've performed in front of oceans of people, lived through sleepless tour nights, headlines, scandals, expectations, but this? This is different.

Because now, reality is breaking.

Demons exist. The Honmoon is real. And I'm... connected to it?

You don't even know what the Honmoon is, not really, but the way they spoke about it made your skin crawl. Sacred. Powerful. Dangerous.

And apparently... tied to you.

You grip your phone a little tighter, the screen still glowing with Rual's message.

You think back to what they said. To how Rumi stared at you like you were something fragile and strange. The way Zoey smiled too wide, like she knew something you didn't. And Mira—quiet, watchful. Always watching.

What even is the Honmoon? you wonder. The word feels ancient. Heavy. Like it doesn't belong in your glittering, fast moving world of awards and afterparties.

And then, a thought creeps in—one you don't remember anyone saying, but you feel it in your bones.

Two bodies. One soul.

The idea lingers, haunting. Is that what the Honmoon is? A bond between two beings who share one soul across different lives? Different forms?

If that's true, then where's the other half of you?

The elevator dings. The doors slide open.

You're back in the lobby. Polished floors, soft lighting, and the faint hum of luxury all around you. But everything feels... thinner now. Fragile. Like the world you've known is just a stage set, and someone just tore down the curtain.

You step out as the elevator doors glide open with a soft ding, and immediately—you feel it.

A low hum, like a distant song buried beneath the floor. It thrums up through your shoes, into your ankles, pulsing in rhythm with your heartbeat. Every step you take down the polished hallway makes it stronger, more noticeable. Not sound exactly—but sensation. Like a whisper under your skin.

You pause mid step, eyes dropping to the ground.

And that's when you see it.

Beneath the marble floor, a faint network of glowing lines. Blue. Luminous. Alive. They're subtle at first—easily missed by anyone not paying attention. But right beneath your feet, they shine brighter than the rest. The lines twist and curve like veins, or... threads in a tapestry.

And then, you see it: a shimmer. A form.

For a split second—just a blink—you see another you. A reflection, maybe. Or not a reflection at all. A translucent silhouette, walking in perfect sync just beneath the floor. The same walk. The same hesitation. The same unease.

Your breath catches.

You don't know whether to scream, freeze, or reach out. But then... you feel it again.

That humming—not cold or threatening, but warm. Gentle. Like a lullaby without words. It's not trying to frighten you. If anything, it feels like it's trying to soothe you. Calm you. Lull you.

Or maybe... make you forget.

Forget the demons. Forget the strange smiles. Forget Rumi's voice cut off by the elevator doors. Forget the truth that's starting to dig its way under your skin.

The hum gets stronger, softer at the same time—like a weighted blanket pulling at your thoughts.

You blink hard and take a step back. "No," you whisper, grounding yourself. "Not yet."

You shake your head and refocus, forcing your eyes away from the glowing lines. You can't afford to forget. Not now. Not when things are just beginning to unravel.

You glance up, scanning for Rual—hoping he's still waiting outside.

Because whatever that was beneath your feet?

It wasn't just power.

It was you.

And maybe... it was the other half of your soul, calling from below.

You push through the front doors of the building, the cool night air brushing against your skin. The world feels different now—heavier, like the sky itself is pressing down—but the second you see him, a thread of familiarity pulls you back to earth.

Rual sits behind the wheel, the car parked just a few steps ahead. One arm rests casually on the door, the window rolled down. Your voice floats from the speakers—one of your songs—and he's lightly nodding his head to the beat, like it's just another day.

You walk over slowly, your feet still buzzing faintly from whatever that humming under the building was. Rual notices you, his head turning with an easy smile. "Hey," he calls out over the music, casual and warm.

"Hey, Rual..." you murmur, your voice quieter than usual as you open the back door and slide in. You sink into the seat, your body there but your mind drifting somewhere else entirely—back to glowing lines, hidden reflections, and words you don't understand.

Rual shifts in his seat, glancing up at the rearview mirror. His dark eyes meet yours, and his brow furrows slightly at the distant look on your face.

"Hey... (Y/N), is everything okay?" His voice is gentle, but steady—grounding.

You stare at your reflection in the mirror, trying to blink yourself back into the present. "Hah... yeah. I'm good." You try to smile, but it barely reaches your eyes.

Rual narrows his gaze, not quite convinced—but he doesn't push it. He knows you too well for that. Instead, he leans forward and turns the music down slightly. "You wanna go get some (F/F)? It always puts you in a good mood."

You look up again, this time managing a real smile. In the mirror, your eyes meet his, and something in your chest unclenches.

You nod. "Yeah... that sounds perfect."

As he pulls away from the curb, you rest your head back and watch the city blur past the window. Your thoughts are still a mess—but for the first time tonight, you feel just a little less alone.

You think about Rual. He's been with you through everything—before the fame, through the chaos, through the hardest nights. Somehow, no matter how much you try to hide what you're feeling, he always sees right through you. And you love that about him.

Your smile softens, and in your heart, you whisper:

Thank you, Rual, for being by my side. 가장 친한 친구.

TAGLIST (Comment on this post to be put on) : @reni502, @zomqiez

[dex0s]

GUESS WHAT IM WORKING ON… guess.

YES THATS IS RIGHT MY LITTLE ANTS BOTH CHAPTERS 3 AND 4 ARE BEING WORKED ON! YAY and I may have smut in it, maybe, I have to see how long each chapter will be…

Question should I have the reader a top, bottom, or both????

And I’m going to do a taglist so if you want to join just comment on this post or one of the two chapters!

[dex0s]

I'm so fucking done with myself... I need to go to sleep but maybe I should just write chapter 3... maybe or read smut and that second one sounds a little better than the first. Also, Jerry is the fucking goat in this fic I HAVE to put him in more. #Jerryisthebest #Jerrysolosrhejjkverse

PART FIVE OF WELCOME BACK AUTHOR

HAVE YOU EVER FUCKED AN SKELETON —Satoru Gojo X Male reader; WARNING — Jerry the skeleton dick? (magic), Gojo being a menace, public (your in a cube full of skeletions), step-brother, maybe a little unreal but I writing about a unreal character so ha!, smut with no plot, bottom male reader

Word count: 1.5K

(A/N) -- I just want you to know that I listened to touch by katseye, smiled and singed my little heart out when rewriting this. And I brought back the old banner only because Satoru is king and he deserves the prettiest banner of them all. enjoy!

For as long as you could remember, you and Satoru were the honored ones—the strongest warriors, the ones everyone looked up to. He was Thing 1, and you were Thing 2. So how the hell did the two of you end up trapped in a cube?

“Hey now! It’s not that bad,” Satoru chirped, flashing that infuriating grin that somehow made him look like a mischievous child despite being a grown man.

You groaned, rubbing your temples. You had no idea how long you’d been stuck in this tiny, claustrophobic space, but sharing it with a childish man—your grown-ass brother—and a skeletons who apparently never learned to keep their hands to themselves was starting to wear on your nerves.

“If you’re really getting bored, you know I could always do something to distract you~” Satoru teased, wiggling his fingers like he was plotting mischief.

After a minute of tense silence, you decided you’d rather see what your brother had in mind than sit there feeling awkward or listen to him complain about why you were trapped in this ridiculous cube.

“Don’t worry about what I have in mind,” he said with a sly smile. “I just know we’ll both like this~”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, bracing yourself for whatever nonsense he was about to unleash.

Stuck sitting in Satoru's lap, you shiver as his cold, skeletal hands glide slowly up and down your arms. Each touch sends a chill straight through your skin, like ice water tracing your naked chest body before stopping at your nipples.

 You can feel him smiling against your neck, the curve of his lips brushing lightly over your skin, sending a tremor down your spine. Then, slowly, deliberately, he takes one of his fingers and trails it along your nipple piercing, rubbing them in a fast paced and pulling them. His cold fingers rubbing fast, frantic, almost desperate, as if trying to rip out the piercings.

“Mmm..Haa– Wait, your fingers are cold!”

Continuing to fondle your nipples, Satoru pulls up your arm, draping it over his neck. Moving his head closer to your chest, taking his tongue out at dripping his saliva all over you then moving his head back to where he can see you little fucked out face.

 “Hm? I can’t hear you over your moaning, Little brother~” He smiles with that blank, unsettling look like words are just sounds to him. It’s the kind of smile that stretches too long, too wide, as if he's enjoying this (which he is very much)

Arcing your back, your head falls back in between his neck and shoulder. “W-wait–Please!” you struggle in his hold trying to free yourself yet Satoru calm puts his forehead down and connects his and your together. Rocking you back and forth. Gripping your chest he squeezes hard, slipping his finger through the hole ring and doing whatever his heart wants. 

Satoru looks up and sees the little crowd of skeletons just watching. Waiting. Thinking for a moment, he gives a dark smile at them.

“Why don’t you join just instead of staring, hm?” Taking one of his hands from your chest moves it down in between your legs and spreads out your legs before locking them with his just in case you want to act up. 

Unbuckle your pants, yanking both your pants and undergarment. Flashing your cock out to the skeletons.

 “Look at what we have here” With a fake sad tone, Satoru pouts as if seeing you hard is a sad thing. “My poor little brother is hard and I can’t do anything about it (he says as he jerking you off), can you help him my friends.” Satoru moves his hand presenting your cock to the bony figures, as if your cock is a peace treaty. Glancing up you can see the creatures moving in closer, trying to move, Satoru locks both your legs and arms.

“H-Hold on now, you don’t want to do this” stumbling on your words as they reach your cock.  

One of the skeletons grasp your cock working on having your release in its hand. Another fondle your balls sacks moving under you and biting and pulling. The last one moving behind Satoru taking its hand(?) to play with your hole processing to push a finger and slowly adding more in your tight boypussy.

“CUMMING~ I’M CUMMING! PLEASE–”

Tongue out, eyes budging, your body moves on its own begging for your release.

Quickly Satoru swats away the hands like little flies before you can cum. “Hey! That's not fair you can’t cum, yet I barely touched you.” whing like a little bitch, Satoru lifts you up so he has enough that he can pull both his pants and underwear down. 

“I’m going to name you Jerry big fellow” Turning his head, Satoru thanking the skeleton behind you two, “You know I just have to give you a big thank you Jerry! I couldn’t do this without you (ignoring the other two) so you know what why do you fuck him with him hm?”. Quickly snapping out of whatever planet you were on. you budged out your eyes and, you give yourself whiplash from fast you turned your head.

“WHAT! No, no, no, no, no, What do you mean join! It doesn’t even have a dick–” throwing a hand over your mouth, Satoru smiles at ‘Jerry’ empathetically as if to apologize for what you said. 

Not paying attention, you don’t notice the way the skeleton moves in front of you grabbing both of your legs and putting them up on their shoulders. Moreover you feel something in between your legs grow and it is not your dick.

Bit by bit you look down and see something you would have never imagined. Jerry, the skeleton… has a tentacle cock, which is in fact big (maybe bigger than Satoru’s but we don’t want to hurt his ego now) and slimy.

Before you can fully comprehend on what is actually going on, you feel your little goryhole fill to the brim. 

‘This is way too big’ you think, being smashed down onto both of the cocks. You can only imagine how huge your hole has gotten. Satoru has a firm grip on your ass as both him and the skeleton have their fun with this “pussy” of yours. Jerry grads your face hard and shoves a tongue-like thing down your mouth.

“Ooh~♡ AH!” Ramming into you over and over, Satoru rolls over his tongue licking up and down your back. Pushing his hands on your stomach so both you and him can feel how deep they are. Shoving you back down again you feel something pop in you.

“FUCK ME♡~” pulling back from Jerrys mouth you arc your back turning your body into the letter “C”. Cumming down hard, you can feel it oozing out from your cock. ‘This is so wrong… but yet it feels so good♡” Rolling your eyes back, you let your tears be free. 

FWOP FWOP FWOP♡~

You can’t even feel your body due to how fucked out you are, taking both of the cock like a little slut.  you don’t even know how long you have been bouncing on the. “S-stop..p-please” begging for this to end and it looked like your wishes were coming true. You can feel both of them twitch inside you.

 “You feel it slut–God~, you feel that we are close don’t you” Satoru gazes up at you with a psycho look, jerking you back he forcefully pushing his mouth on your. Thrusting both his tongue in your mouth and cock in your “pussy”. You choke on your spit then crying out as you feel a warm liquid enter your body. 

You pick up that something is rising up your throat, Pulling away from Satoru you throw up at white substance, cum. Falling forward you grip onto Jerry’s rib bones.

“So is anyone up for round two?”

“Grrrr–”

“Ugh! You're so smart Jerry, I don’t even know why I asked!”

“I hate both of you…”

OUTSIDE THE CUBE

“They must be having so much fun in there,” Geto said with a slow, amused grin, his eyes fixed on the writhing, moaning cube. The sound of agony or perhaps twisted pleasure, seemed to echo faintly from within, drawing out his eerie sense of satisfaction.

Standing nearby, Jogo recoiled with a visible shudder. “Ugh… humans are absolutely revolting,” he muttered, his singular eye narrowing in disgust as he rolled it dramatically. “I swear, I need something violent to scrub this mental image out of my brain.” His voice rose in irritation. “I’m going to go fight Sukuna. That ought to help.”

Geto turned toward the irritated volcano-headed curse, chuckling softly. “Oh?” he said, lifting a hand in an overly cheerful wave. “Well, don’t let me stop you. Bye-bye now! I hope Sukuna gives you exactly what you’re looking for.”

Jogo growled low in his throat but didn’t reply, stomping off toward certain chaos, smoke rising in wisps from his simmering head. Geto’s smile lingered as he turned his gaze back to the cube, the grin growing just a bit wider.

part two? Jerry + Geto + Gojo + you= best sex?