squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

porn with plot fic + nam-gyu x fem reader pls but with this particular detail... GIRL got a tongue piercing out of nowhere?... so imagine that with a bj 😛😛😛

Tongue piercing

Character: Nam-Gyu X fem!reader

Summary: Above🌺

Warnings: ‼️18+‼️, mild language, explicit content, smut, MINORS DNI

You and Nam-Gyu had been in a relationship for a few months — the kind where late-night ramen turns into makeouts on the couch, and lazy Sunday mornings blur into midday sex. But lately, things have felt… routine. Comfortable, yes, but predictable.

You wanted to shake things up. So you did something bold — a small, silver tongue piercing. He had no idea.

You’d been careful. No kissing for the first few days after getting it. You blamed “a cold” and subtly avoided intimacy. But now, it’s fully healed… and you're dying to see his reaction.

It starts innocent.

You’re in his apartment, legs draped across his lap while he’s scrolling on his phone. Some random music plays in the background — nothing important.

“You've been acting weird lately,” he murmurs, not looking up.

You cock a brow. “Weird how?”

“Like you’re hiding something.” He finally glances at you, then narrows his eyes. “You are hiding something.”

You smirk, inching closer. “Maybe.”

Nam-Gyu tosses his phone aside and grabs your waist, pulling you onto his lap properly. His tone drops, low and curious. “Are you gonna tell me?”

“Or…” you lean in, lips brushing his ear, “I could show you.”

Before he can ask anything, you kiss him — slow, deep, letting him feel it. When your tongue slips past his lips, he freezes.

Then pulls back. “Wait—”

You smirk wider, flicking your tongue out just slightly.

The flash of silver glints under the light.

“What the fuck…?” His voice is almost breathless. “You got your tongue pierced?”

“Mmhmm.”

“When?”

“Couple weeks ago. Been waiting for it to heal.” You trail your hands down his chest, unhurried. “Figured I’d… break it in.”

He blinks. “You mean—?”

You’re already sliding off the couch, kneeling between his legs.

His breath catches. “Oh, fuck.”

You smile, and this time, he sees the barbell more clearly. His hands grip the couch tightly as you start undoing his sweats, slow and teasing.

He’s already hard — the anticipation, your smirk, the piercing — it all hit him fast.

You wrap a hand around him and let your tongue drag along the underside, the cool metal pressing just enough to make him twitch.

“Holy shit, babe…”

You hum softly, the vibration making his thighs tense.

Then you take him in.

Warm, wet — but it’s that little nudge of steel, the subtle tap of it along his shaft and the way you flick it under the tip, that drives him insane.

“Fuck—do that again.”

You obey — slowly circling the head with your tongue, barbell gliding along the most sensitive part. Then you go deeper, swallowing him inch by inch.

Nam-Gyu’s head falls back. “That feels… so different—fuck, that’s good.”

He’s trying not to buck into your mouth, but every time the piercing touches a new spot, his hips twitch and his hands curl into fists.

“Baby,” he growls, voice thick, “if you keep doing that I’m gonna—shit, just like that—”

You let him hit the back of your throat, tongue flattened, piercing pressing just right.

And when you moan around him? He loses it.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna—”

You don't stop.

His thighs shake. He groans loud, low and desperate as he spills into your mouth, one hand gripping your hair tight, the other over his face as he curses.

You swallow. Smile. Sit up like it was nothing.

He looks at you like you just ruined him in the best way.

“Where the hell did you learn to use that thing?”

You lick your lips, flashing the silver ball again. “You inspired me.”

Nam-Gyu pulls you into his lap, breathless, still recovering. “Remind me to inspire you more often.”

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

Can u please write about Seowan being a knight and he falls for the reader instead of the princess ( like he’s supposed to save the princess but falls in love w the dragon or enemy whatever muehehe )

A Knight in shining Armour

Character: Kim Seo-Wan X fem!reader

Summary: Above🩵

Warnings: None

The sky was bruised with smoke and fire when Sir Seowan arrived at the tower.

The princess was somewhere at the top—locked behind enchanted doors, pure and untouched, her rescue promised to bring peace between two warring kingdoms. Seowan, ever the loyal knight, had slain the guardians, crossed the cursed forest, and climbed the obsidian spire to reach her. Every step etched with prophecy.

But it wasn’t the princess who waited for him.

It was you.

Perched like sin at the windowsill, smoke curling from your lips. A creature of claw and scale, human enough to smirk but too dangerous to ignore. The heat in the room rose with your every breath.

“I thought you'd be taller,” you said. “Or maybe just dumber.”

Seowan raised his sword without hesitation, though something in his eyes flickered—uncertainty or curiosity, you weren’t sure. “Where is she?”

You tilted your head, watching him. “Safe. Bored. Completely unharmed. Unlike you, if you take another step.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” he said.

“Then you’re already losing.”

Your tail lashed once against the stone floor, cracking it like thin ice. Fire pulsed beneath your skin. And yet, when he met your gaze, he didn’t see a monster. He saw choice. A presence unbound by duty or law. And it shook something loose in him.

“You’re supposed to be the villain,” he muttered.

“And you’re supposed to save her,” you replied, stepping closer. “But tell me, Sir Knight… is that really what you want?”

His sword lowered, just a fraction. Enough.

You were chaos. You were temptation dressed in flame. But you didn’t ask him to choose you. You just stood there, fierce and unbothered, daring him to decide for himself—for once.

The prophecy had never mentioned your eyes, how they held galaxies. Or your voice, how it made the world around him blur.

“I don’t think,” Seowan said slowly, “I believe in prophecies anymore.”

You smiled, all teeth and danger, and stepped into the light.

And the knight didn’t run.

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

Hiii !

I’ve been thinking about going shopping with Gyeong Seok (he’s older than us, maybe he’s in his 40s and reader in her 20s, if you are comfortable with the age gap ofc!)

I saw some videos on TikTok where the girlfriend put lipstick on their boyfriend hands to see the color and I think it’s so older bf coded 🤭

Have a good day or night :)

Lipstick

Character: Gyeong-Seok X fem!reader

Summary: Above✨️

Warnings: None

Shopping with Gyeong Seok wasn’t exactly like shopping with your friends. There was no frantic pacing between stores or squeals over sales racks. Instead, there was a calm rhythm to it. He held your bags in one hand, his other hand always resting lightly on your lower back as you wove through the crowd of the beauty floor.

He didn’t complain. He didn’t rush you. He just was, in that quiet, composed way of his—unshakeable even among makeup counters and perfume testers.

“I feel like I’m dragging you around,” you said with a laugh, looking up at him as you stopped in front of a new lipstick display.

“You are,” he said dryly, but the faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth betrayed him. “But you’re cute when you’re focused. Like a little scientist.”

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks warmed anyway. “Okay, Mr. Stoic. Help me out then.”

You grabbed a lipstick—creamy coral with a rose tint—and twisted the base until the color peeked out. “I need to see how it looks with my skin tone, but I don’t want to swatch it on my wrist.”

His brow arched. “Then where—”

You reached for his hand.

He blinked, but didn’t resist as you pulled it toward you, turning it over so the smooth skin of his palm faced up.

“Here,” you said softly, swiping the lipstick gently across the base of his thumb, right above the lifeline. The contrast of the warm color against his slightly rough, tanned skin made your heart skip. “Your skin tone’s close enough. And you never wear makeup, so it won’t mess with anything.”

Gyeong Seok stared at the streak of color on his hand for a second, then at you. “You’re using me as a mannequin now?”

“A handsome one,” you said, trying not to grin. “Hold still. Let me try the next shade.”

He sighed but gave in, extending his fingers with a quiet grace. You tried a mauve nude next. Then a peach gloss.

“I’m running out of space,” he muttered.

You looked up at him through your lashes. “Then let me kiss it off.”

That made him go quiet.

You felt his eyes on you as you leaned down and pressed your lips softly against the swatch closest to his thumb—more for fun than actual cleanup. When you looked up, his expression had barely changed, but you knew him well enough to spot the subtle shift. The quiet flush behind his ears. The way his mouth twitched upward, just slightly.

“You’re lucky I like you,” he said.

You grinned. “I know I’m lucky.”

His hand closed gently over yours, warm and steady. “Pick the one you like, baby. I’ll get it for you.”

“But—”

“No arguing.”

You melted a little. He wasn’t flashy, never had been—but he had this way of making you feel taken care of in the most subtle ways. Like standing in line while you browsed. Like holding bags without being asked. Like letting you paint his hand in a busy department store just to help you choose a lipstick.

“I’ll take the coral,” you said, voice soft now. “The one on your thumb.”

He looked down at the swatch. “It’s nice. Looks better on you than me.”

You laughed, nudging his side. “Obviously. But you pull it off well.”

As you walked to the register, he leaned down slightly and murmured, “You’re trouble.”

“You love it.”

He didn’t answer. Just brushed a knuckle against your cheek and paid for the lipstick without another word.

Later, you caught sight of his hand on the subway ride home. The color had faded slightly, but the faint shimmer of coral still lingered. You smiled.

He noticed.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you said, curling your fingers around his.

You could still see the swatch when he laced your hands together.

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

What's your limit in amount of characters per request? Also do you do like something where if you DO have a limit, you'll write a pt.2 of the same request with different characters? :3

I have no character limit no!😁

And i would make 1-3 parts 🎀

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

Hello! I have been binging your Squid Game hcs for days now and I love everything so much. I love how you write everyone specifically my sweet girl Hyun-Ju!

Can I request some headcanons of Reader pampering Hyun-Ju, Nam-Gyu, Gyeong-Seok, In-Ho, Gi-Hun and Dae-Ho on a long warm bath.

Can be fluff or nsfw, I don't mind

THANK YOU ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Pampering

Characters: Cho Hyun-Ju, Nam-Gyu, Gyeong-seok, In-Ho, Gi-Hun, Dae ho (All X fem!reader)

Summary: Above🩷

Warnings: MINORS DNI. INVOLVES EXCPLICIT CONTENT

HYUNJU

It started with the sigh.

That long, world-weary exhale Hyunju gave the moment she closed the apartment door, like every ounce of energy had just drained from her limbs. You looked up from the couch, laptop balanced on your knees, and your heart ached a little. Her shoulders were slumped, hair a bit disheveled from the wind, and she didn’t even take her shoes off right away — just stood there, staring at the floor like it had personally offended her.

You got up without a word, walked over, and wrapped your arms around her waist from behind.

“Tough day?” you murmured.

Hyunju just hummed. She didn’t need to say anything more.

“I’ve got you,” you said, lips brushing against her shoulder. “Go sit. Or nap. I’m stealing the bathroom for a little while.”

She gave you a curious glance, but obeyed without question. That was step one.

By the time you were done, the bathroom looked like it belonged in a five-star spa and a Pinterest dream board had exploded.

The deep tub was halfway full, frothy with rich, floral-scented bubbles. You’d poured in lavender bath salts and a few drops of eucalyptus oil for good measure. Tea light candles flickered on every available surface — windowsill, counter, even a few nestled safely in the corners of the tub surround. The lights were dimmed low, just enough to set the mood.

You balanced the bamboo bath tray across the tub, setting up the essentials: – A chilled glass of wine (her favorite white, just a little sweet) – A small bowl of chocolate-covered almonds and sliced strawberries – A soft, folded towel on one side – And your laptop, angled perfectly, already queued up with her favorite K-drama (the one she kept rewatching “for comfort” but claimed was “just okay”).

Last touch? Her new pajamas — plush, sky-blue cotton with tiny embroidered stars — laid out on the heater to be perfectly warm when she got out.

You found her curled up on the couch, half-asleep, the exhaustion tugging at her eyes.

“Bath’s ready,” you whispered.

She blinked up at you, confused. “Bath?”

You just took her hand, guiding her up. “Trust me.”

The moment she stepped into the bathroom, her eyes went wide. “Babe…”

You pressed a kiss to her cheek and started gently tugging off her sweater. “You deserve it. No talking. Get in.”

She laughed softly, a little overwhelmed, cheeks pink. “You did all this for me?”

“Of course. I told you—I’ve got you.”

She sank into the hot water with a breath that sounded like relief and heaven wrapped in one. The laptop started playing. The wine glass clinked. Her head leaned back, eyes fluttering shut.

“I might cry,” she mumbled, grinning through the steam.

“You better not,” you teased. “You’ll salt the water more than I already did.”

By the time she stepped out, rosy-skinned and blissed-out, you were waiting with a towel in your arms.

Her hair smelled like rosemary and citrus. Her smile was sleepy and soft. You helped her into the pajamas, combed her hair with your fingers, and kissed the tip of her nose.

“I made pasta,” you said. “Fresh pesto. And garlic bread. With the crunchy edges just the way you like.”

She looked at you like you’d hung the moon.

“Marry me,” she said flatly.

You laughed. “Eat your pasta first.”

She pulled you into a kiss before you could walk away. “I mean it.”

Namgyu

You could hear the tension in Namgyu’s voice the moment he texted you:

"Home in 20. Rough one. Just wanna disappear."

That was all the signal you needed.

Within minutes, you were in motion.

First: the bathroom. You lit your favorite candles—amber and sandalwood, soft vanilla, a hint of lavender—and placed them around the edge of the tub and the counter. You dimmed the lights until only the warm glow of candlelight flickered across the tiles.

Next: the bath. You ran the hottest water the pipes could offer, pouring in a generous scoop of bath salts—something herbaceous and calming, eucalyptus and mint. Then came the bubble bath: thick, foamy, almost ridiculous in how much you used. It climbed the sides like clouds.

You grabbed the wooden tray you bought on a whim last year and never used. Tonight, it had a purpose. You set it across the tub and laid out the essentials: – A small tumbler of good whisky with one perfect cube. – A bowl of honey-butter almonds and a little dish of shrimp crackers. – A thick towel, warm from the dryer. – His favorite Korean variety show queued up on your laptop, volume low, ready to play.

You even pulled out the new pajama pants he hadn't seen yet—soft, loose, dark gray cotton with little white stars—folded them neatly with a fresh oversized tee.

And of course, the pièce de résistance: ramyeon. But that would come later.

The key clicked in the front door just as you adjusted the last candle. You didn’t even need to call—he followed the warm scent and faint music straight to you.

He appeared at the bathroom door, still in his work clothes, shoulders sagging.

His eyes scanned the room—candles, bubbles, tray—and then landed on you.

"You didn’t..." he started, his voice caught halfway between a laugh and a sigh.

You grinned. “I absolutely did.”

Namgyu looked like he might melt on the spot. “What... is this?”

“Your survival kit,” you said. “Get in. Clothes off. No excuses.”

He didn’t argue. Within minutes he was sunk into the water, arms stretched along the edge of the tub, eyes fluttering shut as he exhaled like a man who hadn’t done so in weeks.

"This is illegal," he murmured. “You could seduce a man to death like this.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you teased, brushing a few bubbles off his shoulder and placing the whisky in his hand.

The show played quietly as he munched snacks between sips, occasionally letting out a contented "mmph" or soft laugh. You sat nearby, reading and occasionally checking in with a kiss to his forehead.

Thirty minutes later, once his fingers were properly pruny and the water cooling, you stood and kissed the top of his damp hair.

“Come on, King of My Heart. I’ve got hot ramyeon and your new pajama pants waiting.”

He looked at you, utterly baffled. “You’re gonna make me propose, babe.”

You winked. “That’s the plan.”

Gyeong-Seok

CW: Sexual content, bath scene, gentle domination, language

It had been a long week for Gyeong-Seok—late shifts, gym sessions, barely any sleep. You could see the exhaustion etched into his every muscle, even if he tried to act unfazed. But tonight, you had something else in mind. Something… indulgent.

“Don’t argue. Just get in the bath,” you told him, smirking as you guided him into the steamy bathroom, fingers laced through his.

He stopped at the doorway, blinking at the scene like he’d stepped into a spa fantasy. The tub was overflowing with fluffy bubbles and rich bath salts. Dozens of flickering candles lined the counter and tub edges, their soft glow reflecting in the water. A thin trail of steam curled in the air, scented faintly with citrus and lavender.

On a wooden tray that spanned the width of the tub: a bowl of grapes and chocolate-covered almonds, a frosted glass bottle of sparkling soda, and your laptop open to play his favorite series. You even left just enough space for his arms to rest lazily on either side.

"You did all this?" he asked, brow arching, voice low.

You leaned in, brushing a kiss under his jaw. “You deserve more than this.”

He swallowed hard.

You peeled his shirt off slowly, watching the way his chest rose as you kissed over his collarbone, dragging your nails down his sides before tugging down his pants. His cock twitched, semi-hard already, but you smiled and whispered, “Later.”

He groaned—half frustration, half anticipation—and slipped into the tub. You helped him get settled, then poured soda into the glass for him, feeding him a grape with your fingers.

You sank to your knees beside the tub, watching him melt.

"Relax," you whispered. “No lifting, no flexing, no proving anything.”

His eyes fluttered closed as the bubbles lapped at his skin. The candlelight bathed him in gold, water beading off his chest. You watched, quietly admiring. Occasionally, you reached over to stroke your fingers through his wet hair or feed him snacks between scenes on the show.

When the water started cooling, you whispered, “Time for part two.”

He stepped out of the tub, towering and glistening, dripping wet. You wrapped him in a soft towel, drying him off slowly, deliberately, dragging it over the hard planes of his body.

Then you slipped the new pair of pajama pants up his legs—soft brushed cotton, charcoal grey, clinging gently to his hips.

He looked good enough to devour.

In the other room, the scent of fresh pizza wafted through the air.

But dinner could wait.

You pushed him gently onto the bed, straddling him as you kissed him deep, mouths open, hands roaming. He cupped your hips, breath already uneven.

"Let me take care of you properly," you whispered, kissing down his throat, then lower.

He groaned as you palmed him through the fabric of the new pants, feeling him grow harder, thicker. You peeled them down slowly, watching his cock spring free—already aching for you.

You licked a stripe up his shaft, slow and teasing, then wrapped your lips around him and took him in deep, hand massaging the base. He cursed under his breath, hips twitching.

His fingers tangled in your hair, but he let you lead.

And when he couldn’t take any more, you climbed over him, sinking down slowly, letting him fill you inch by aching inch.

"Fuck," he groaned, head falling back. “You feel so—shit—tight.”

You rocked your hips, slow and steady, grinding just right. He watched you like you were his religion—candles flickering behind you, casting you in soft amber as you rode him with deliberate tenderness.

Your name fell from his lips like a prayer.

And when you both came—shaking, gasping, drenched in sweat—it wasn’t just release. It was devotion. Worship.

Later, you laid curled against his chest, a slice of pizza half-eaten on the nightstand, soft show reruns playing in the background, and the scent of candles lingering in the air.

"Think I’m gonna need another bath tomorrow," he muttered.

You laughed softly, tracing lazy circles on his abs. "Only if you behave."

IN HO

You’d been waiting for this moment all day — the chance to really spoil him, your in-house frontman. After a brutal week of non-stop work and late nights, you decided tonight was about him and nothing else.

The bathroom was already transformed by the time he walked in, feet dragging from exhaustion but eyes lighting up at the sight. Flickering candles filled every corner with a warm, golden glow. Soft bubble foam overflowed from the deep tub, the subtle scent of lavender mingling with sea salt soaking into the water. You’d added a generous scoop of bath salt, meant to soothe his muscles and wash away the weight of the world.

You stood at the edge, holding a glass of whiskey—his favorite—and smiled when he sagged against the edge, a tired but grateful sigh escaping him.

“I thought you could use a real break,” you said softly, sliding the glass into his hand. “And I didn’t forget the snacks.”

A wooden tray spanned the tub, perfectly balanced with a laptop playing his favorite show — the one he always talked about but never had time to watch. You’d even arranged some spicy snacks next to the laptop, knowing how he liked to munch as he unwound.

He looked at you, eyes heavy but full of adoration. “You’re amazing,” he breathed, sinking deeper into the warm water.

You settled beside him, fingers trailing lightly over his shoulder as he relaxed beneath your touch. You watched as the stress slowly melted from his face, replaced by the softest smile.

When the bath was over, you wrapped him in a thick towel and led him to the bedroom, where fresh, ultra-soft pajama pants awaited. He pulled them on with a small chuckle, eyes darkening as he caught your gaze.

“Not done yet,” you whispered, fingers tracing the curve of his jaw.

After the bath, the night only got better. You fed him freshly made tacos — the ones you knew he craved, spicy with just the right balance of savory and tangy — before pulling him close, lips and hands exploring with a hunger only built up from days of stress and longing.

The warmth of the bath lingered on his skin, mingling with your touch. Every kiss, every sigh, every whispered word was a promise: tonight was only for him.

Gi Hun

NSFW, bath sex, soft smut

The lights were low, the air warm and thick with steam and the soft citrus scent of bath salts. Gi-hun blinked as he stepped into the bathroom, clearly overwhelmed.

“You... did all this?” he asked softly.

Candles flickered around the edge of the tub, reflecting in the water littered with rose petals and a generous mound of fluffy bubbles. A wooden tray stretched across the bath, holding a small bottle of soju, two cups, a bowl of honey-dusted tangerine slices, and a laptop already queued up with the first episode of his favorite old comedy series.

You stood behind him, smiling, gently tugging at his shirt. “Mhmm. You deserve to rest. Let me take care of you tonight.”

He didn’t resist when you stripped him down, your fingers brushing over his skin like velvet. He was still a little shy, even after all this time, eyes flickering away whenever you looked too long. But tonight, he let you look.

Gi-hun stepped into the bath with a soft groan, sinking into the heat like it was the first real comfort he'd felt in weeks. You sat at the edge, pouring him a cup of soju and nudging it into his hand.

"You're spoiling me," he muttered, leaning his head back, eyes fluttering shut.

"That's the point."

You watched him melt. Between sips of soju, laughter at the show, and little bites of sweet tangerine fed directly from your fingers, his tension dissolved. When the episode ended, and he looked up at you with lidded eyes, your hand slid gently down into the water.

“Let me wash you?” you asked, voice soft, sultry.

He swallowed thickly and nodded.

You took your time, lathering the soap into a soft sponge and running it slowly over his chest, arms, shoulders. He shivered as you leaned in to kiss the water-slick skin of his collarbone. When your hand dipped lower beneath the bubbles, brushing over his thighs, he groaned.

"You’re really trying to kill me, aren’t you?"

You giggled, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Not kill. Just… wreck you a little.”

Your hand wrapped around his length, already hard under the water. He hissed, gripping the tub’s edge.

The bathwater sloshed as you moved closer, shifting to kneel beside the tub. "Let me taste you."

He didn’t argue. Just watched with wide eyes as you leaned in, lips brushing the head of his cock, tongue teasing him slowly before taking him in.

Water lapped quietly as you worked him over, slow and warm. His fingers threaded into your hair, hips twitching up involuntarily. You moaned around him, the sound sending shivers up his spine.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “You’re perfect…”

When he came, it was with a low groan, trembling all over, your name spilling from his lips.

You helped him rinse off gently after, wrapped him in a huge fluffy towel, and led him to the bedroom where soft grey pyjama pants waited, warm from the dryer.

He looked dazed as he pulled them on.

But his eyes lit up when he saw what was waiting in the kitchen: a big steaming bowl of bibimbap, eggs still sizzling, vegetables fresh, perfectly plated.

You sat beside him, legs tangled, feeding him bites as he leaned against you, a little drunk on soju and a lot drunk on you.

Dae-ho

The day had been long for Dae-ho—endless meetings, a surprise inspection at work, and a spilled coffee that had soaked through his notes. By the time he trudged through the front door, his shoulders slumped like a deflated balloon, and you were ready.

You met him at the door with a small, smug smile, wearing one of his oversized sweatshirts and fuzzy socks.

"Drop everything," you said with mock seriousness. "You're not allowed to lift a single finger tonight."

He raised an eyebrow but let his bag slide off his shoulder, watching you closely.

"You look like you're planning something illegal," he murmured.

"Oh, I am," you grinned, stepping aside. "Go. Bathroom. Now."

When Dae-ho opened the bathroom door, he paused like he was walking into a dream—or maybe a lifestyle commercial sponsored by chaos and affection.

The tub was filled high with bubbles, practically threatening to spill over the edge. Steam rose in gentle curls, carrying the scents of vanilla, lavender, and something else… citrusy? Exotic?

Candles flickered from every available surface—tiny tealights, one weirdly tall candle you bought on clearance, and even a cupcake-scented one you both hated but refused to throw out.

On a wooden tray across the tub sat a laptop already playing his favorite comfort show (you had to guess what mood he was in—lucky for you, it was the right episode). There were snacks too: a little plate of honey-butter chips, strawberry Pocky, and a small bowl of gummies shaped like sea creatures. You had also brought in a cold can of Milkis, condensation glistening under the candlelight like it belonged in a fancy ad.

“Is this a bath,” he muttered, “or a shrine?”

“You’re the shrine,” you corrected. “This is your temple.”

He laughed despite himself, eyes already softening as he looked around.

You handed him a pair of soft new pajama pants—the kind that felt like clouds had stitched them with kindness—and whispered, “When you’re done, there’s a fresh baked potato waiting. Butter, cheese, bacon bits. I even hollowed out a little trench for the sour cream so it melts right.”

He looked like he might cry. Instead, he stepped forward, kissed your forehead, and said, “You’re insane. But I love you.”

Later, after an hour-long soak full of snacks, giggles, bubbles in his hair, and one accidental splash that almost drowned your laptop (you rescued it with a towel like a hero), Dae-ho emerged from the bathroom like a new man. He smelled like vanilla and citrus and had the softest smile on his face.

Wrapped in his fluffy robe and the new pajamas, he flopped on the couch next to you and took the warm baked potato you handed him.

“This is better than therapy,” he mumbled with a full mouth. “I’m never leaving you.”

“I won’t let you,” you said, curling up beside him.

You didn’t need more than that—the soft hum of the night, the glow of fairy lights, and the shared bite of potato made everything perfect.

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

Why do you not write for Myung-gi🥲 Also do you write for character x character ships?

I apologise, but Im not a myun-gi fan.

And i mainly write: Character X fem!reader or kid!reader

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

i thought ur pfp was purple guy this whole time wtf its a squid

yes. Squid 🦑

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

GDragon as a Dad with babygirl trying to be throw food of the high chaiir cause wrong plate or color of and having a bad day?

Bad day

Characters: Gdragon X toddler!reader

Summary: Above🩷

Warnings: None

The morning sunlight slipped in through the sheer curtains of the apartment, dust dancing in the golden glow. In the middle of the bright kitchen sat a sleek, modern high chair — stylish, just like everything else in G-Dragon's home — and in that high chair sat you, his tiny daughter, barely two years old and already full of opinions.

"Okay, sweet pea," Ji-yong said cheerfully, humming as he set a plate of cut-up strawberries and mini pancakes in front of you. "Pancake day~! Your favorite!"

You blinked, stared down at the green plate, and then…

Your bottom lip quivered.

"No, no, noooo," you whined, the start of a toddler storm bubbling under your breath. Then, with both hands, you shoved the plate toward the edge of the tray.

Ji-yong froze mid-sip of his coffee. "Wait—hey—baby, no—"

Splat.

The food hit the floor like a crime scene.

Ji-yong sighed, setting his mug down as you let out a frustrated little wail.

"It’s not the pink one," you hiccuped through tiny sobs, cheeks puffed and eyes big and glossy. "I want the pink plaaate."

He squatted down to clean up the mess with a dishrag, shaking his head gently. "Okay, okay, hold up — Daddy didn’t know it was a pink-plate-only day. That’s on me, boss." He glanced back up at you. “Tough crowd this morning.”

You sniffled dramatically. “Bad day.”

Ji-yong’s heart squeezed a little. It didn’t matter how many sold-out concerts he’d played or fashion weeks he walked through — nothing knocked the wind out of him like his little girl having a rough morning.

He stood up, walked over to the cabinet, and pulled out the infamous pink plate with a tiny bunny print in the corner. "You mean this pink plate?"

Your tears slowed. You nodded seriously. “That one.”

"Noted." He grinned, loading the same food onto the correct plate this time. He placed it carefully in front of you and added a little dramatic flair: "For Her Royal Highness, the Princess of Picky Breakfasts."

You giggled through your tears, poking a strawberry with your tiny fork.

"Better?"

"Better."

He kissed the top of your bedhead-hair, sitting beside your high chair with his now-cold coffee. “You know,” he said, watching you eat, “Daddy also has bad days sometimes. But pancakes usually help.”

You munched contentedly for a few minutes before pausing, then looked at him with big eyes. “You want a stwawberry?”

His heart absolutely melted. He leaned in, letting you clumsily shove one into his mouth. “Mmm,” he said, pretending it was the most delicious thing in the world. “Chef’s kiss.”

You beamed.

Later, when he posted a picture to his private Instagram story — just a snapshot of the pink plate and messy crumbs with a caption: "She runs this house." — he wasn’t even exaggerating.

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

How do you get these out so fast? 😭😭

what??

I feel like I've been so slow lately and posting so little compared to when I first started

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

Favorite kisses

Characters: Hyun-Ju, Thanos, Namgyu, Gi-Hun, Sang-woo

Kim Seo-Wan

Gdragon, Daesung, T.O.P

Roh Jae-Won

Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang, San, mingi, Wooyoung, Jongho

Summary: Their favorite places to kiss you (fem!reader)

Warnings: None :)

(APOLOGIES IF SOME IMAGES ARE MISSING, MY PHONE IS FREAKING OUT🎀)

CHO HYUN JU

----FOREHEAD

The rain tapped gently on the windowpane, a steady rhythm that matched the soft thud of your heartbeat. You were curled into Hyun-ju’s side on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and quiet comfort.

Her fingers traced lazy patterns on your arm, her eyes watching you with a warmth that always made you feel safe — known.

You tilted your head up slightly to meet her gaze. Before you could say a word, she leaned in.

Not for your lips.

Not for your cheek.

But your forehead.

A feather-light kiss pressed there — gentle, certain, like a promise that didn’t need to be spoken.

“Right here,” she murmured, her voice just above a whisper. “This is where you feel most like mine.”

And in that moment, with the world hushed around you, you believed her.

Thanos

----SHOULDER BLADE

The afternoon light filtered through the curtains, golden and warm against your bare back as you lay on your stomach, cheek resting against the pillow.

The room was quiet, save for the gentle hum of the city below and the faint rustle of sheets.

Su Bong trailed his fingers lightly down your spine, reverent, almost hesitant, like you were something sacred. Then he leaned in, brushing a kiss against your shoulder blade — soft, slow, like he wanted to memorize the shape of you with his lips.

"This," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, "is my favorite place."

Another kiss, just beside the first. Then another.

You smiled into the pillow, feeling the warmth of his affection seep into your skin like sunlight.

Nam-Gyu

----CROWN OF YOUR HEAD

The rain tapped softly on the window, casting silver trails down the glass. You sat curled in the corner of the couch, a blanket wrapped loosely around your shoulders, your book forgotten in your lap.

Namgyu moved silently behind you, his footsteps always light, always careful—like he never wanted to break the moment, only fold himself into it.

You felt his hand brush your hair aside gently, his fingers lingering for a beat longer than necessary. Then, without a word, he leaned down and pressed a warm, lingering kiss to the crown of your head.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was everything he couldn’t say—“I’m here,” “I see you,” “You’re mine.”

You closed your eyes, a soft smile tugging at your lips. He didn’t need grand gestures. That single kiss, placed just there, always said more than a thousand words.

Gi-Hun

----KNEES/LEGS

The late-night TV buzzed softly, casting a gentle blue light over the small living room. Gi-Hun sat at one end of the couch, legs stretched out, looking content in the rare quiet. At the opposite end, you lay curled with a blanket, your feet resting comfortably across his lap.

“You always hog the blanket,” he murmured, smiling as he absentmindedly rubbed slow circles into your calf.

“You always let me,” you replied with a sleepy grin.

He didn’t argue—just let his fingers trace lazy patterns along your shin, then paused at your knee. His touch softened, almost thoughtful. Then, without a word, he leaned down and kissed the side of your knee. Soft, gentle. Like a habit, not a surprise.

You blinked, amused. “You’re weird.”

Gi-Hun chuckled, resting his chin just above your leg. “It’s my favorite place,” he said, another kiss to your kneecap. “I don’t know why. Just feels like you’re really here. Real.”

You felt your chest warm at the honesty in his voice. The moment stayed quiet after that, filled only with the soft sound of the TV and the occasional kiss to your leg—tender, present, and his own small way of saying I’m glad you’re here

Sang-Woo

----TEMPLE

The storm outside tapped gently at the windows, but Sang-woo's attention stayed on you—always you.

You were sat beside him on the couch, knees pulled close to your chest, wearing one of his old university sweatshirts. The room smelled like rain and instant coffee, dimly lit by the streetlamp outside. He didn’t need anything else.

He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing against the warmth of her skin.

"Why do you always do that?" You asked, leaning slightly into his touch.

Sang-woo didn’t answer right away. He leaned closer and placed a gentle kiss against you temple—soft, deliberate, lingering.

"Because that’s where you think the most," he murmured against your skin. "And I want to remind you you’re safe here. Even from yourself."

Kim Seo-Wan

----PALM

Seo-wan smiled softly as he gently took your hand in his. His fingers traced the delicate lines of your palm, his eyes never leaving yours. Without hesitation, he pressed a tender kiss right onto the center of your palm, his lips warm against your skin.

“It’s my favorite place to kiss you,” he whispered, his voice low and full of affection. “Because it feels like I’m holding your heart in my hands.”

You blushed, your fingers curling around his as a quiet warmth spread through you. In that small, simple gesture, everything felt perfect.

Gdragon

----CORNER OF MOUTH

The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the city outside. You sat close to G-Dragon on the couch, his hand gently brushing a stray hair behind your ear. His gaze lingered on your lips, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Without a word, he leaned in slowly, his breath warm against your skin. Just as your lips were about to meet, he pressed a tender kiss at the corner of your mouth instead. The unexpected softness made your heart skip.

“That’s my favorite place,” he whispered, his voice low and sincere, before finally capturing your lips in a sweet, lingering kiss.

Daesung

----BACK OF HAND

You walked hand in hand with Daesung through the quiet park, the evening breeze brushing through the trees like a whispered song. The world around you slowed, your fingers nestled warmly in his.

Without a word, he paused.

You turned to him, curious—but he only smiled, that soft, knowing smile of his, full of mischief and quiet affection.

He lifted your entwined hands, eyes flicking briefly to yours. Then, with reverence, he brought the back of your hand to his lips and kissed it gently. Not rushed. Not showy. Just... sincere.

"That's my favorite place," he murmured against your skin. "Right there. Because I like to remind you, even when we're just walking, that I’m always thankful to be by your side."

Your heart fluttered.

And you walked on, fingers still laced, warmth spreading from where his kiss lingered.

T.O.P

----RING FINGER

You sat quietly beside him, fingers lazily tracing the rim of your teacup as jazz filtered through the soft lamplight of his studio. Paint-stained brushes stood like soldiers in a jar nearby, and half-finished canvases leaned against the wall — beautiful chaos.

T.O.P didn't say much; he never had to. His eyes, thoughtful and distant, landed on your hand resting between you. Gently, he reached for it, the pad of his thumb brushing over your ring finger with a reverence that made your chest tighten.

"You always paint with words," he murmured. “But this finger… it speaks for me.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he lifted your hand and pressed the softest kiss to your ring finger — not rushed, not playful. Just deliberate. Like a promise sealed in silence.

No ring. No grand gesture.

Just him.

Roh jae-won

----NOSE

You were mid-sentence, laughing about something ridiculous you’d seen that morning, when Jae-won leaned in with that slow, amused smile of his. You paused, breath catching, thinking he was about to kiss your lips — but he didn’t. Instead, he tilted his head slightly and pressed the gentlest kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Why do you always do that?” you asked, your cheeks warming.

He grinned. “Because it makes you scrunch your face like that. Cute.”

You tried to frown, but he kissed your nose again — soft, quick — and your fake scowl melted instantly.

“Seriously, Jae-won…”

“One more,” he said, already leaning in, “for good luck.”

And this time, you let yourself close your eyes and smile.

Hongjoong

----SHOULDER

The apartment was quiet, golden with the glow of late afternoon. You stood at the window, arms folded, watching the sun spill across the buildings.

Hongjoong slipped behind you without a sound. You felt his presence before you heard him — that gentle gravity he carried only for you.

He leaned in, brushing his lips against your bare shoulder, just where your shirt had slipped. A feather-light kiss. Then another.

“You always go for the shoulder,” you murmured, smiling.

“It’s my favorite,” he said, his voice low against your skin. “It’s quiet here. Like a secret only I get to know.”

He rested his chin there for a moment, arms wrapping around your waist. The world outside kept moving — but here, against your shoulder, time bent just for the two of you.

Seonghwa

---WRIST

The rain tapped gently against the windows, casting ripples of shadow and light across the room. You sat curled beside Seonghwa on the couch, his warmth a steady hum against your side. A quiet song played in the background, but neither of you paid it any mind.

Without a word, Seonghwa reached for your hand, cradling it gently. He traced slow circles against your palm with his thumb, his touch featherlight, reverent.

"Do you know," he murmured, lifting your wrist to his lips, "this is my favorite place to kiss you?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the softness in his voice. "Why?"

He pressed a kiss just below your pulse, lingering there like he was trying to memorize your heartbeat. "Because it’s quiet here. Intimate. It feels like a secret only I’m allowed to know."

You smiled, heart stuttering beneath his lips. And as he kissed your wrist again—gentle, slow, like a promise—you realized he wasn’t just memorizing your heartbeat.

He was becoming it.

Yunho

----LIPS

The room was dim, lit only by the soft golden spill of evening sun through the curtains. You sat close to Yunho, knees brushing his on the couch, a quiet lull settling between shared laughter and the last few lines of a movie neither of you had really been watching.

His eyes—gentle, knowing—searched yours for a moment too long.

"You always get quiet when you're about to do something," you teased, voice barely louder than the hum of the credits.

He chuckled, eyes crinkling. "Maybe I'm just thinking."

"About?"

"How your lips are my favorite place to be."

Before you could respond, his hand cupped your jaw with quiet certainty, drawing you in like gravity. The kiss wasn’t rushed—it never was with Yunho. It was warm, slow, and full of all the things he didn’t always say aloud.

Like how he missed you when you were gone. Or how being close like this made everything else fade away.

When he pulled back, he didn’t go far. Just far enough to whisper against your lips:

"You always taste like the quietest kind of yes."

And he kissed you again.

Yeosang

----EAR

The quiet hum of the evening wrapped around you both like a secret. The two of you sat close on the couch, knees brushing, a half-forgotten movie flickering on the screen. Yeosang had barely glanced at it once.

His attention was all on you.

You felt it in the way his fingers traced slow patterns on your thigh, in how he leaned just a little closer, voice dropping to a near whisper.

“Are you even watching?” you asked, your lips twitching with amusement.

“Not really,” he murmured, his breath grazing your ear.

Then he kissed it.

Soft. Slow. Like a promise wrapped in silk.

You shivered.

He smiled.

“I like how you react to that,” he said, the of his voice brushing over your skin again. “Right here.” Another kiss, just behind the lobe this time, more deliberate. “Drives you crazy, doesn’t it?”

You couldn’t answer. Not really. Not when your heart was doing somersaults and your breath hitched every time his lips ghosted over the curve of your ear.

And Yeosang?

He just leaned in again, whispering things you’d never remember — because the only thing you could think about was the way he kissed you there like he had all the time in the world.

SAN

----NECK

It always started the same way — with silence.

San’s arms wrapped gently around you from behind, his breath warm against your skin. He never rushed. Just lingered, like he had all the time in the world.

Then, without warning, his lips brushed the side of your neck — slow, tender, deliberate.

"You always smell so nice," he'd murmur, voice low, velvet against your ear. "Right here..." He pressed another kiss just beneath your jaw, where he knew you’d melt.

Your breath hitched. He smiled.

He loved how your shoulders relaxed under his touch, how your pulse jumped beneath his lips.It was his favorite place to kiss you — not for passion, but for closeness. A quiet reminder that you were his calm, and he was yours.

And in that moment, nothing else existed but the soft press of San’s lips against your neck... and the way your heart beat just for him.

MINGI

----STOMACH

Mingi hums as his fingers trace lazy circles on your side, his head resting comfortably on your lap. The soft light of the morning spills across the sheets, but neither of you is in any rush.

He shifts suddenly, rolling onto his stomach, and props himself up just enough to plant a gentle kiss just below your navel.

“You always do that,” you say, a smile tugging at your lips.

“What?” he murmurs, eyes warm, his breath brushing your skin.

“Kiss me there.”

He grins, leaning in to do it again — slower this time. “Because it’s my favorite,” he says, voice low and sincere. “Right here… soft, warm, just you.”

You giggle as his lips brush your stomach once more, and again, until you're laughing and trying to squirm away.

He wraps his arms around you, holding you still with that boyish smile. “You’re not getting away. This is my spot.”

And in that quiet, sacred moment, you believe him.

Wooyoung

----CHEEK

You sat on the couch, half-buried in a blanket, laughing at something ridiculous Wooyoung just said. He wasn’t even trying to be funny anymore — he was just being himself, expressive and loud and so him.

He leaned in close, pretending to whisper a secret. “You know,” he murmured, “your laugh is my favorite song.”

Before you could tease him for the cheesiness, he pressed a warm kiss to your cheek — soft, familiar, like punctuation to the moment.

You turned to look at him, but he was already grinning, eyes crinkled. “What?” he said innocently, “I like kissing you there. It’s mine.”

You smiled. “Just there?”

He tilted his head, playful. “For now. Gotta pace myself.”

Jongho

----KNUCKLES

Jongho’s fingers gently brushed against yours, his eyes soft with affection. “May I?” he asked quietly, leaning closer.

Without waiting for a word, he pressed a tender kiss to your knuckles, one by one, like he was memorizing every curve and line.

The simple gesture made your heart flutter—his favorite place to kiss wasn’t your lips, but these small, delicate parts of you. It was intimate, sweet, and uniquely his way of showing love.

“You’re my favorite,” he whispered, holding your hand close to his chest.

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

For all my new followers!

Hello!

My name is Alva and im from Norway🇧🇻🇧🇻

And down below are some pictures of me!

(Please also give me some requests because I'll do anybody atp)🩷🩷

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

Blanket hoarder

Character: Gdragon X Fem!reader

Summary: You're a blanket hoarder, and gd is the one who has too live with it

Warnings: None

The bedroom is dim, all warm gold light from a corner lamp and the slow, steady whir of the fan. Your limbs are stretched carelessly across the mattress, one arm dangling off the edge, the comforter half-draped over you like a forgotten cloak.

Kwon Ji-yong stands in the doorway, arms folded, wearing silk pajama pants and a half-buttoned black shirt he definitely didn’t need to put on just for sleep.

He stares at the bed.

More specifically, he stares at you—sprawled diagonally, blanket queen of a kingdom he no longer rules.

You feel the weight of his silence before you hear it.

“You always steal my side of the bed,” he says softly, walking toward you. “But somehow I’m the villain.”

You crack one eye open. “Hi, baby.”

He raises a brow. “That’s not an apology.”

“I’m horizontal. I can’t be held accountable.”

Ji-yong exhales—one of those long, dramatic sighs he does when he’s amused but pretending not to be. He slides onto the edge of the bed, his side now fully claimed by your thigh, which is planted like a smug little flag.

He pokes it gently.

“That’s my side.”

You shift slightly. Not away—just enough to make space for exactly 12% of him. Generous.

“You can fit,” you murmur, eyes closing again.

He stares at you for a second. Then, slowly, dramatically, lies down with the flair of a man forced into exile. His arm flops against your back with just enough weight to prove a point.

“You conquer my half like it’s Versailles,” he says into your shoulder.

You smile sleepily. “You’re still the king.”

“Untrue,” he replies. “Kings don’t sleep on the border of the mattress, one inch from the floor.”

There’s a pause.

Then: “Still... you’re cute when you sleep diagonally. Like a cat with main character syndrome.”

You feel his lips graze your shoulder—just a brush, almost absentminded.

“I could reclaim my territory,” he adds.

You hum. “You could.”

“I could push your leg off. I could rotate you like a furniture piece.”

You nuzzle deeper into the pillow. “But you won’t.”

“No,” he says softly, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “Because I love the tyranny.”

A beat passes.

Then he scoots closer, curling around your form like gravity pulled him there. His arm slides over your waist, chin tucked gently into the crook of your neck. He’s all warm silk, cologne and skin, breath slow against your ear.

You whisper, “See? Plenty of room.”

He huffs a laugh. “Liar.”

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

I feel like Seowan would be such an amazing father ( pet or child whatever he’d be so caring and buy tiny cosplays so they can match awww )

Little warrior

Character: Kim Seo-Wan X fem reader

Summary: A visit to the hospital

Warnings: None!! Maybe slight angst

The hospital lights were soft today. The kind Seo-wan liked best—dimmed just enough that the shadows felt friendly, not sharp. He sat cross-legged on the vinyl bench under the window, sketching circles and stars on the wall with a finger he believed was made of silver light.

The dragon sigil had returned in his dream last night.

"Red eyes. A boy made of fire and wind. The Emissary of the Second Gate." That’s what the voice told him. It always spoke just before morning.

So when the door buzzed open with a nurse’s gentle knock and he turned—he wasn’t surprised to see them.

Her. And... the little warrior.

You stood just inside the room, your breath caught in your chest. You hadn’t brought your son to the ward before—he was only two, barely old enough to say “Appa” without stumbling over the syllables.

But today, he insisted. He’d drawn something for “the man in the picture.” He wanted to show Appa his dragon armor, which was really a patched-up onesie with green felt wings and a paper crown taped together like a battlefield relic.

He ran into the room before you could stop him.

“DWAAGON FIGHTER ARRIVE!!” he announced proudly, nearly tripping over his too-big cardboard sword.

Seo-wan flinched.

The child—the small fire-born creature—stood tall, puffing out his chest. There was glitter on his cheeks and marker tattoos drawn on his hands. His eyes, though...

They were familiar.

Like stars he'd seen before the storm.

“Who... who sent you?” Seo-wan whispered. “Did the Flame Herald choose you? You... survived the trials?”

His eyes darted past the boy, to you.

And for a moment—just a flicker—his expression cracked.

“You…” “You wear the face of the lost queen.”

Your throat tightened. He didn’t recognize you. Not truly. But something was shaking him, something deeper than memory.

Your son stepped forward bravely, holding out a crumpled drawing. It was supposed to be the three of you—stick figures, a sun, a dragon.

“I made this, Appa! It’s us! You and me and Eomma! You used to ride the dragon with me, remember?”

Seo-wan reached out slowly, fingers trembling, touching the paper like it was sacred scripture.

He stared at it for a long time.

His lip quivered.

“I remember… the sound of your laugh,” he said quietly. “Not yours, little warrior. Hers.”

He turned to you, eyes glassy.

“You had this smile. It broke the spell.”

And then—his eyes snapped back to the boy, now sitting cross-legged like him.

Seo-wan tilted his head.

“You were real, weren’t you? Before the sky split. Before I fell into the dark.”

You knelt beside them both.

“You’re not in the dark, Seo-wan. Not today. Your little warrior came to bring you back.”

The boy grabbed his father's hand with sticky fingers and nodded solemnly.

“Appa, you don’t gotta be scared. I have fire powers.”

Something inside Seo-wan shattered softly. No tears, not yet. Just a long, shaking breath.

He pulled the child into his lap.

“Then you’ll protect me, won’t you?” he whispered, forehead resting against the paper crown.

Your son nodded with a warrior’s certainty.

And for the first time in weeks, Seo-wan closed his eyes—not in fear, but in peace.

“The light… found me again.”

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

🎀Personal Stylist🎀

Character: Cho Hyun-Ju X fem!reader

Summary: Fashion StylistHyunju goes shopping with you and ends up being way too good at picking out outfits that make you look “too cute.”

Warnings: None

You had no idea how you ended up standing in front of a three-way mirror in the middle of a boutique fitting room with your girlfriend sitting cross-legged on the velvet bench like some fashion godfather.

“Spin,” Hyunju said simply, resting her chin in her hand. “Slowly.”

You rolled your eyes, but obeyed, twirling in the soft baby blue dress she insisted you try on even though it looked “too frilly” on the rack.

“Hmm,” she murmured, squinting like a fashion critic on national TV. “It’s dangerously adorable.”

“Dangerous?” you echoed, laughing. “You make it sound like a weapon.”

“It is. I might pass out. You’re giving me heart palpitations.”

You threw a scrunchie at her. She caught it with one hand, smug grin firmly in place.

You slipped behind the curtain again to try on the next outfit she picked. This time, it was a cropped cardigan with a pleated skirt in soft lilac. You paused in front of the mirror, self-conscious.

“Hyunju…” you called, “This one’s too—cute. Like… overly anime girlfriend cute.”

There was a pause.

“Exactly. Show me.”

You stepped out, fidgeting with the hem of the cardigan.

Her expression shifted the moment she saw you—eyebrows lifted, lips parted slightly, like she just spotted a shooting star.

“Whoa.”

You blinked. “Too much?”

“No,” she said, rising from the bench to walk over. Her hands gently tugged the sleeves into place. “Too perfect.”

Her voice was softer now, her gaze lingering on yours.

“You look like someone I’d fall in love with for the first time. All over again.”

Your breath caught a little. “That’s dramatic.”

“Let me be dramatic,” she whispered, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re the prettiest girl in this entire store.”

You smiled shyly. “Even prettier than the mannequin you winked at earlier?”

Hyunju gasped. “She winked at me first!”

You both burst into giggles. The sales assistant peeked in, saw the heart eyes in full force, and quietly retreated with a knowing grin.

Hyunju tapped your nose with the tip of her finger. “We’re buying this one.”

“Both of them?”

“All of them. My girlfriend’s wardrobe is about to be dangerously cute.”

You sighed, defeated, as she began piling more pastel pieces into the shopping cart like you were her personal doll.

But as she whispered “You’re so beautiful” under her breath while watching you smile at your reflection, you knew one thing for sure:

Letting Hyunju style you was dangerous.

But only because it made you fall harder every single time.

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

Can you please write something nagsty like the reader reminiscing Seowan after his death 😔💔 ( bonus points if his parents, esp his mom is included, he looks like a mama’s boy aww )

Safe In Heaven

Character: Kim Seo-Wan X fem!reader

Summary: Reminiscing after his passing

Warnings: Mentions or death, Suicide and unstable mental health💙

The apartment still smells like him.

Crisp notebooks, black coffee, a hint of sandalwood and detergent. You'd think time would’ve diluted it by now, but it clings—like his voice in your memory, like his ghost in your bed.

You still haven’t thrown away his toothbrush.

It sits next to yours, blue and slightly bent at the neck. He used to press too hard when brushing—said he wanted his teeth to “shine even when his mind didn’t.” You laughed when he said it. You didn’t know it was a warning.

The mirror is foggy now. You avoid it anyway. You can’t bear the look in your own eyes.

It’s raining today. Fitting, you think. The sky mourns better than people do.

You visit his mother every Thursday now. She doesn’t say much—but she makes you barley tea and puts out a photo of him when you arrive. Sometimes, she holds it. Sometimes, she sets it down like it burns.

Today, her hands shake more than usual.

“He used to cry when he lost his socks,” she says suddenly, as if plucking the thought from some parallel life. “He’d blame the washing machine. Said it was a portal.”

You smile weakly, and your heart twists.

“Did he ever talk about... wanting to go?” “No,” she whispers. “He talked about staying. That’s what hurts.”

She looks at you then—not as her son’s girlfriend, but as someone who saw the same abyss.

Later, alone in your car, you listen to the voice message he sent the night before he disappeared.

“You made me feel like I was more than the worst parts of me.”

You grip the steering wheel until your knuckles turn white.

“I hope the stars feel closer for you than they do for me.”

You should hate him for leaving. You should hate yourself for not seeing it. You should, but you don’t.

Instead, you keep his toothbrush. You answer his mother’s texts. You sleep with his hoodie beside you. You talk to him when no one is around. You imagine what he'd say—probably something weird, maybe a math metaphor, definitely a joke that doesn't land but makes you laugh anyway.

And on the worst nights, you whisper:

“Come home, Seo-wan. Just for a minute. Just long enough for me to say goodbye.”

But he doesn’t.

🖤

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

🎀Braids And Blushing🎀

Character: Cho hyun-Ju X Fem!reader

Summary: You braid Hyunju’s hair for fun while watching old-school K-dramas

Warnings: None🎀

Hyunju sat cross-legged on the floor, back straight and legs tucked neatly beneath her in your pale pink pajama shorts. Her dark, silky hair fell between your fingers in long, obedient waves as you gently separated a section and began braiding. The TV hummed in the background, playing an early 2000s K-drama — the kind with clumsy soundtracks and dramatic spinning hugs.

“You’re seriously so good at this,” Hyunju murmured, voice low and relaxed. “Are you sure you haven’t done braiding bootcamp or something?”

You giggled and leaned forward slightly, your chest gently brushing her back. “Nope. I just have good taste in hairstyles—and girlfriends.”

Hyunju went still for a beat. Then she gave a soft snort, clearly flustered but trying to play it cool. “Tch. That’s such a cheesy thing to say.”

“I’m a cheesy girlfriend,” you said proudly. “And you’re the prettiest canvas I’ve ever worked on.”

You could feel her smile, even though her back was still to you.

You kept braiding in slow, careful movements, working tiny ribbons of hair into a delicate waterfall braid. Every now and then your fingers brushed her neck, and Hyunju would twitch slightly, but say nothing. Her skin was warm, a little pinker than usual.

Silence fell again, comfortable and filled only with the soft sound of the TV and the whisper of hair between fingers. You were halfway through the second braid when Hyunju spoke.

“…Can I ask you something?” she said, almost shy.

“Of course.”

She shifted, pulling a plush bunny-shaped pillow into her lap like a shield. “Can I start calling you… ‘jagiya’?”

Your hands stilled in her hair. The pause made her shoulders tense, like she was bracing for a laugh or a no.

Instead, you smiled so wide your cheeks ached.

“Only if I get to call you mine every time you do.”

Hyunju finally turned around to look at you, her lips slightly parted, eyes blinking slowly. You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her pink-tipped ear.

“Deal?” you whispered.

She nodded wordlessly, cheeks burning but lips curling into that soft, fluttery smile you adored.

You tied off the braid with a pink ribbon and rested your chin on her shoulder, arms wrapping loosely around her waist.

The TV couple finally kissed on screen. But in your little room, in your little world, Hyunju just whispered, “Jagiya…” like it was the softest vow she’d ever made.

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

🍓PRINCESS PICNIC🍓

character: Cho Hyun-Ju X Fem!reader

Summary: Hyunju surprises you with a full-on fairycore picnic: gingham blanket, cherry blossom lemonade, strawberries dipped in chocolate.

Warnings: None 🎀

You blink in surprise as you step out into the park clearing.

Laid out beneath the shade of a cherry tree is what can only be described as a full-on fairytale picnic: a pink gingham blanket, heart-shaped cushions, a pastel picnic basket overflowing with ribbon-tied sandwiches, and two crystal flutes of sparkling lemonade—blushing pink, with floating rose petals.

There’s even a lace-trimmed parasol staked gently into the grass.

And sitting at the center of it all—cross-legged and glowing in the dappled sun—is Hyunju.

She’s wearing soft denim overalls with a pink puff-sleeve top, her short dark hair pulled into a low ponytail, secured with a butterfly clip. A hint of shimmery eyeshadow catches the light as she beams up at you, holding something behind her back.

"Surprise," she says softly, in that shy-but-proud tone of hers. “You said you wanted something ‘cottagecore and magical’... so I tried.”

You walk toward her slowly, touched. “You did all this?”

She nods, then pulls the object from behind her back. It’s a tiny tiara. Rhinestone-studded. Glittery. Adorably tacky.

“For you,” she says, biting her lip. “Because you’re the queen of my world.”

Your heart actually skips. “Hyunju—”

“I know it’s cheesy,” she adds quickly, “but I thought it might make you smile, and it—oh.” She freezes as you lean down and let her place the tiara on your head.

“Perfect,” she murmurs. “Regal. Beautiful. Dangerous.”

You laugh. “Dangerous?”

She hands you a strawberry dipped in chocolate. “To me. Every time you look at me like that, I forget how to breathe.”

You nearly choke on the strawberry.

Later, you lie together on the blanket, your head resting on her lap as soft breeze plays with your hair. Hyunju is gently tracing hearts onto your palm, one finger at a time.

“Next time,” you whisper, eyes fluttering closed, “I’m bringing a sash that says ‘Hyunju’s Girl.’ Just so everyone knows.”

She pauses for half a second, then leans down to kiss your forehead.

“I already do.”