#plot drop 6

[sunlight-shunlight]

i was looking for something else, but jeez.

matt goldman had been at bioware since 1999, worked on dragon age since dao, was the art director on dai, and was briefly the creative director on da4, before the live service reboots i believe.

it's pretty unfortunate bc i remember that he was happily retweeting fanart and talking about how excited he was to work on the game, up till like, 2 weeks before his resignation was announced by bioware on his behalf ;-;

[dumbassalex]

I think one of the reasons the new DMC show didn't really click with me is because aside from the action and the songs (whitch i liked more because they're the type of music i enjoy rather than them fitting into the world of DMC), the show didn't really have any of the stuff i enjoy from Devil May Cry?

The games are this gothic family drama series with complicated family dynamics and feelings, questions of humanity, power and it's use and effects, but the core part of the series for me are the messy family dynamics and how they affect characters and connect them together.

I also never got attached to this Dante because it never felt like he was being genuine, because he was a complete goofball basicly the whole show, while in the games there were multiple moments in all of the games where Dante is sinciere and vulnearable and emotional and we see his actual mental and emotional state.

And while some of these issues go away when i don't look at it as a Devil may cry adaptation, i still don't really like the story because i think the "refugees" allegory was badly done.

[hexstrom]

open starter: @cardinalstart location: Lilla Bakstugan

The soft flicker of candlelight cast long shadows across the bakery’s walls, the usual warmth of the space now tinged with an eerie stillness. Astrid stood near the counter, hands wrapped around a steaming mug of black coffee as she listened to the wind howl against the windows. The sound stirred something familiar in her—a memory of long, relentless winters back in Mora, when the snow piled high against doorways and the village fell silent beneath its weight. Those storms had been both a comfort and a threat, beautiful in their quiet destruction. Now, this night carried the same restless energy. The ovens had long since gone cold, the hum of the lights silenced by the outage; yet the scents of cinnamon, cardamom, and butter still lingered in the air—a quiet reminder of the morning’s work. With careful movements, the Swede set out a tray of leftover pastries, their golden edges catching the dim glow, before turning her attention to the small stack of blankets she’d gathered. A small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

She moved toward the front door, shivering as a sharp gust of wind pushed against it the moment she unlatched the lock. The cold seeped in instantly, biting at her skin like the winter nights she once knew so well. Working quickly, she fastened a handwritten sign to the glass:

Shelter Inside – Warm Drinks & Blankets Available

The ink bled slightly at the edges; but the message remained clear. Stepping back, Astrid studied her work before retreating further inside, pulling her cardigan tighter around her shoulders. Whoever passed by would see the sign and know they were welcome—no questions asked.

[everysinglepheel]

screenshots grabbed from this video

my favorite gen 6 quote dfgsfdg the writing in this game was definitely an experience

[eyepatchdate]

its just so annoying to be like.

>oh i like thing

>thing makes stupid plot/character/theme decision or just drops in quality at a critical point and has writing too messy for me to overlook

>oh thing sucks actually

[chaosfairy18]

I'm not sure when I'll emotionally recover from the Ithaca saga and especially everything surrounding Odysseus, Telemachus and Penelope but yeah should have more time that is not spent sobbing and instead with Newsies soon (except tomorrow, we're holding a Murder Mystery Dinner and finger's crossed that finally I'll be the murderer /hj)

[disventure-rewrite-takes]

okay so I just watched a compilation of someone's favourite moments from ep 19

and I'm sorry but wtf is the Nina thing? like I wasn't a fan of her from the start, because I thought she was too gimmicky. and now she has...powers or something? i didn't see the whole scene so idk but it was weird from what i did see.

if I could I'd just write out Nina altogether, and not have the...curse arc?? I'm sorry but wtf DSVC?

also side note does anyone know what the deal with fiore calling yul a mushroom muncher? honestly I do always enjoy fiore roasting people but that felt iffy to me. maybe it's just me, but I probably wouldn't have that in there?? idk I'm all over the place with this ep

-🎃

no yeah that was SO STUPID??? i always thought nina herself was like. a stupid concept. they don't even do anything interesting with her ever. she's just like. a talking puppet. and now apparently she has superpowers. o....kay............????????

the 'mushroom muncher' thing is i'm pretty sure a reference to the fact that he got poisoned by a mushroom, i don't think (?) it's supposed to be offensive but. hey it's ONC. if they try, and god knows they don't but somehow it happens anyways, they can make anything offensive!

[aparticularbandit]

i just realized. re: the very long this post.

in ultimate ventriloquist's murder trial. the victim was monokuma.

like. nobody actually died. and junko would probably think that killing off the puppet that killed monokuma was an equivalent exchange. good bit, good fun, reset to center, no more puppets as people, the joke ran its route, good on everyone!

ultimate ventriloquist wasn't supposed to actually die. it was...it was a bit. a joke!

no wonder it gave junko the shakes.

....

this is either a case 2 or a case 4. i'm not sure which.

probably a case 4.

[gingerwerk]

whats it like to just come up with a silly little fic idea, write it, and then move on? what it like to not have to feel the need to only write 200k+ word fics steeped in deep lore and world building? is it relaxing

[shvdwscng]

part 1 ⎯ a seed is planted

a character study of all muses in the dusk court thus far :

ALINA  DRAGOMIR ( high lady of summer )

the summer court has never been open to and/or willing with alliances ⎯ a pattern that carried from generations prior, and one that trickled onto alina's reign. she is too possessive of her court to ever have it beholden to another - namesake or otherwise. it's only since her trip to the capital of the king's coronation that she had considered one with the day court ( an unusual move to for a seasonal court ) , but one can argue that was more of a personal motive with the high lord than a political one. she has no interest in an alliance with dusk, she's is far too paranoid and distrustful and her efforts to give this unknown civilization is not one she entertains. she wants nothing more than to leave dusk and return to her court, and prefer to leave her court out of these affairs. however, alina understands that's not an option given the new change in their king, and furthermore, she can't disregard nor ignore the ripple effects this court will have on all of prythian. she, however, does not trust the dusk high lord's mask of pleasantry and his gentile nature ⎯ a part of her waiting for him to reveal his true colors.

ALISTAIR  HIGHTOWER ( 2nd in command of day )

the day court has always thrived on it's own and it has been this way for generations prior to the asters. alliances were also not something the previous high lord of day has sought, nor the current one. the one that came about with summer court had been entirely a form of surprise, but alistair does not care nor want for another alliance for day. he does, however, wish to have an amiable relationship with dusk, for the sake of day's peace, he's willing to do whatever it took to ensure they parted on friendly terms.

AURORA  PENHALLOW ( emissary/ambessador of dusk )

aurora has made her feelings clear of dusk mingling with the other courts ; their isolation gave her a greater desire to have connections with the other courts. it wasn't going to be ask easy task, it was a risky one as well. however, she firmly believes dusk could benefit from one or two, particular their solar counter parts, and she desires this because she wishes to give her high lord, a man she considers a close friend, and their court every advantage possible. with the rising abilities of the king, she hopes that this will unite all of them in hopes that the prythian fae can look past their mistrust of her court and look to what can be gained.

DECLAN  ASTER ( lord aster of day )

declan tends to stay out of his court affairs, only lending a hand when his brother and high lord cedrian requests it, and therefore he wants what is best for his court. while he does see the benefits of aligning with a court like dusk, he does not have a strong opinion so long as any decision made ends in a peaceful parting among all.

KALORE  GREY ( 2nd in command of night )

kalore is quite possessive of the night court, and therefore he also doesn't wish to tie night with any another. due to marriage between his high lord to the younger lady of dawn, their court is already tied to dawn - a link he doesn't approve of nor has ever cared for. as the other he see's the benefits of a such a strong court, and he would only be willing to have an alliance with dusk if they are able to control the terms and all aspects of such an alliance. kalore has no need for their fae, nor has much interest in the dusk court, but he see's the value in having dragons as soldiers for the night court. he will do what he can to ensure his high lord doesn't leap into an alliance with this court until he uncovers every secret of the dusk court.

LAILAH  RAO ( spymaster of winter )

lailah doesn't think that a solar would ever want to entertain an alliance with a season court, but it is a thought she hopes the dusk court would keep in mind. there were both pros and cons to this an alliance with dusk, however, she doesn't believe in dismissing it entirely, either. her high lady is hesitant, she's certain, in the meantime lailah first wants to know all she can before alliances could be discussed with this new court. she would like an alliance for winter, but prior to their arrival she had been hoping to obtain one on the seasonal side particular with summer or spring. its a thought she hopes to bring to attention with her high lady that they should consider one with a fellow season, in the case that somehow all four solars might end up aligning or which ones manage to secure with dusk.

SAINT  GALATHANEA ( high lord of dawn )

being one of the newest high rulers, saint is the most hesitate in allying with another court. he had advised his inner circle to remain cautious and out of their affairs as they could thus far, but he's beginning to see that might not be an option. given the situation arising with their king, it was far better to have allies and friends than none. he does see the potential in having dusk as an ally as they've proven themselves to be a strong court, and their high ruler, from his observations a reasonable ruler. regardless if an alliance will come to be, he does intend to ensure that dawn had a amiable relationship with dusk and is not opposed to having his mind changed if the dusk proves to be worthwhile of such efforts.

SITARA  GOLDCOVE ( queen mother of prythian )

seeing her son strong and assertive is certainly something sitara wanted, for him to rise to be the king kabir's father had been. however, she didn't expect this sort change in her son, she feels it that there's something strange and off about him. it was a gut feeling that she couldn't name, and it is a bittersweet sight for a mother. she knew her son would change, but sitara did not expect it to this extent, he did not feel like the kabir she had known. deep down, this version of her was one she did fear of and for , as happy as she was over his newfound strength, she was not certain if she could rejoice in kabir's changed...it seemed, his entire personality.

[tearfest]

ㅤㅤfor someone with such a cold, un-beating heart, she'd never felt more alive. the sweetness of their blood pooled against her tongue, the sweetest she'd ever tasted; cheeks reddening as she fed whilst theirs paled. she was careful with her consumption, focus locked in on the steady rhythm of their heart as the hand at the back of their neck tightened it's hold, fingers sinking into the locks at the neck's nape whilst her other hand naturally found it's way between their flush bodies — slipping under the waistband of both her pencil skirt and panties, sending the mixture of cotton and lace down her slender waist as fingers found her clit, moaning against their throat. " no one tastes like you... " could you fall in love with a taste?

closed starter for @hauntedhymns, based on this.

[gender-euphowrya]

watched a 1h video about garten of banban and i now know less things about it than when my only knowledge was "typical kids mascot but Horror game series" before watching it

[requinoesis]

After noticing patterns over the years, I created this list with 13 points to score the level of stereotypes about sharks present in a work. I believe that most of these stereotypes have their main origin in the film Jaws (1975).

With the scarcity of works that explore other creative approaches to sharks, beyond the “man-eating ” narrative, Jaws ended up consolidating itself as the greatest source of inspiration and creative reference for many productions to this day. This was called “The Jaws Effect”. 🩸🦈

I've noticed that certain patterns in the creative world repeat themselves to the point of being tedious, which bothers me. Not because they're bad, but because in many cases they're harmful. With these points, I hope to show sharks in a new light.

🩸1 - Great White Shark Popularized by the Jaws movie, the Great white shark has become the dominant archetype in the representation of sharks in fiction. Often, works choose to use this shark or a generic gray version of imprecise anatomy, with no defined species. However, there are over 400 species of shark, and very few are explored creatively.

🩸2 - Man-eater The persistent idea that sharks have humans as a natural part of their diet is one of the most widespread stereotypes. Although there are reports of incidents, most attacks are isolated and often by mistake. Any animal, including humans, could turn to unexpected sources of food in a situation of desperation or starvation.

🩸3 - Forced Behavior It's common to see sharks portrayed with distorted or exaggerated behaviors that don't match their nature just to cause tension, such as:

Hunting small fish, ignoring the fact that sharks avoid expending energy on low-energy prey.

Abandoning easy prey just to arbitrarily chase the protagonist.

Going crazy at the smell of blood.

Showing a wild and constant hunger.

Obsessively pursuing a single prey.

Making aggressive shark species known for being peaceful or timid.

Attacking and destroying objects, structures or vessels with disproportionate fury just to reach someone.

🩸4 - Monstrous appearance It's common to see sharks' appearance exaggerated to intensify visual fear, making them look like monsters rather than real animals:

A gaping mouth, with huge, crooked teeth that are constantly stained with blood.

Menacing, demonic red, black empty and soulless eyes.

Body covered in grotesque scars, exposed wounds and even weapons embedded in the skin.

A disproportionate figure, with pointed shapes, a swollen or deformed body.

Bizarre mutations that completely alter their anatomy.

Technological modifications to make them more weapon-like, emphasizing the idea of the "Killing Machine".

🩸5 - Shark de-characterization Especially in children's works, in order to be accepted by the public or the other characters in the plot, the shark is often forced to change its identity. It is transformed into a “domesticated” version, such as:

Becoming a vegetarian or a toothless shark, losing its ecological role as a predator.

Taking on exaggeratedly “funny” behavior, becoming a caricature.

Having its behavior and appearance altered to look more like a dolphin or other friendly shape, excluding striking features such as prominent fins, visible gills or a fusiform snout.

Choose to portray a specific species of shark because it seems more “friendly” to the public, such as the whale shark.

🩸6 - Limited Nature The representation of sharks in fiction is usually limited to sensationalist aspects, such as the power of their bite, the old phrase that they "smell a drop of blood in 2 million liters of water", or things like "killers from the womb".

However, sharks have some very interesting characteristics that are little explored creatively:

Acute hearing, capable of picking up sounds more than a kilometer away in the ocean.

Their electroreception, which allows them to perceive tiny electrical impulses emitted by living prey and even sense the electromagnetic field around them.

Possible link between their migrations and the lunar phases.

Incredible healing capacity and immune resistance.

Skin made up of denticles made of the same material as our teeth.

They constantly change their teeth.

Longevity and they never stop growing.

Many fish such as rémoras and pilot fish depend on and live alongside sharks.

Sensitive to pressure changes and can even predict hurricanes and tropical storms.

🩸7 - Red Presence Striking presence of red, either with the presence of blood or the color present in the design. This emphasis on red reinforces the shark's direct association with violence, danger and death, contributing to the construction of the “bloodthirsty monster” stereotype.

🩸8 - Dark Music It is common for sharks to be associated with tense, dark and threatening soundtracks whenever they appear on the scene. More often than not, I notice that when sharks are mentioned in song lyrics, it is to express some sort of comparison to some negative stereotype.

🩸9 - Threatening setting Scenarios with sharks are almost always represented in a gloomy, dark, desaturated way, empty of marine life. The environment is treated as a dangerous place by nature, shipwrecks, dark caves, areas full of garbage, explosive mines or the inhospitable depths of the sea

🩸10 - Masculinization The theme involving sharks has always been very masculine. Shark characters are rarely female, while the human characters who interact with these animals, scientists, hunters, divers or specialists, are almost always white men. Women and minorities almost never occupy central or specialized roles in these narratives.

🩸11 - Villainization Sharks are often portrayed as villains by default, carrying negative and caricatured stereotypes, for example:

Gangster or mobster

Aggressor or school bully

Criminal or loan shark

Brutish idiot or dumb henchman

Corrupt politician or authoritarian fascist figure

Indomitable monster or irrational beast

Recurring enemy, obstacle or final boss in video games

🩸12 - Objectification Sharks are often treated as mere resources or utilitarian objects in fiction. They are represented as trophies, rewards, collectibles or consumables, as if they existed only to be hunted, exhibited or eaten.

This objectification also appears in the constant presence of jaws decorating environments, teeth used as accessories, fins amputated as an ingredient, and in the display of the animal's body in a morbid way: corpses exposed, dead body hung and displayed as a trophy in harbor, parts dissected or being devoured by other creatures.

🩸13 - Death As if it weren't enough to have become a symbol of death incarnate, even in animations aimed at children, sharks almost always have the same fate: death. What's worse, their death is usually celebrated as a relief or a victory.

Impaled, butchered, set on fire, crushed, blown up, fished out or killed by another "heroic" creature, tossed about by hurricanes… In many cases, these scenes are treated with humor or graphic exaggeration, turning the destruction of the shark into a spectacle.

---

I was unsure about publishing this list as it is just personal observations from someone who loves sharks. A few people asked me for this list and said it would be worth posting, don't take it too seriously.

These stereotypes are not necessarily bad or invalid, after all, we are talking about works of fantasy and fiction. However, they could be resignified through new creative ideas that arouse feelings other than fear and terror.

Although many people's passion for sharks arose precisely from movies like Jaws and the stereotypes it popularized, it's important to remember that these same elements have been repeated almost unchanged for decades. This exhaustive repetition was largely because it was profitable, turning sharks into yet another victim of entertainment capitalism. Over time, this type of representation ended up distancing ordinary people from the reality of these animals, reinforcing fear rather than curiosity. Nowadays things are a little better, but not better enough.

The reality of sharks goes far beyond that. They are mysterious and fascinating animals, older than the first trees or dinosaurs. They have survived five mass extinctions, incredibly adapted from the abyssal depths to mangroves and freshwater rivers. They have unique senses and behaviors that are still shrouded in mystery, as well as a biology so singular that it inspires advances in science and technology. For many ancient cultures, sharks are revered as true gods of ocean balance.

I dare say that by looking after the health of the seas for millions of years, sharks made it possible for our own species to emerge from the depths of the primordial ocean. They are, in a way, guardians of our cradle of origin. And so we owe them a great deal of respect and preserve them at all costs.

To date, no creative work has managed to surpass “Jaws”. Who will be creative enough to create a new work and transform the collective imaginary of sharks from fear to fascination? 🦈✨

[yogirl-willow]

The Crimson Pact | Part 5

Characterizations | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

SoulBond!AU

Pairings: Yandere!Saja Boys x F!Reader

Synopsis: You were never supposed to remember them.

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

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

And now that you’ve returned?

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

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

A/N: Story is rolling along folks! I plan to flesh out each and every one of the boys + get the plot rolling a bit in this chapter and the next. Thank you for all your lovely comments! Unfortunately, Tumblr only allows a certain amount of tags so I sincerely apologize if I was not able to tag you on here (I tried adding everyone I could). 😭 But just know that I'm so grateful to everyone reading my story. 🥺 If you'd still like to be tagged and you weren't on here just comment and I can try adding you to the next update!

───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

The Saja boys are all demons.

They are wrath and ruin. Jealousy and death.

And yet, before her, they kneel.

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

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

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

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Part 5:

The Closer You Come

The apartment is quiet. Too quiet. Galbi sizzles in the pan. Romance stirs the sauce for the bulgogi with a flick of his wrist, lips pursed, jaw tight. Baby’s lounging on the couch, flipping through channels absently—volume low. Mystery sits on the floor nearby, sketchpad in his lap, but the page hasn’t flipped in minutes.

And Jinu? Jinu is standing stock still, eyes unfocused, head tilted just slightly—like he’s hearing something the others can’t. 

Then it happens. A pulse.

A flare of heat through the bond—so sudden, so visceral it feels like it cracks through their spines and settles in their chests. Like lightning, but slow. Like breath hitching in someone else’s throat. Jinu exhales, long and low, the tension in his jaw deepening.

“She kissed him,” he mutters, voice dark with something ancient. Romance drops the spoon. The sound of it hitting the counter echoes too loud in the kitchen.

“She did what?” Baby straightens, head whipping toward the hallway. His eyes sharpen like a knife drawn slow from its sheath.

“They’re close,” Mystery whispers, eyes wide, hand still frozen over the paper. “Closer than before.” A breath. A heartbeat. Then—

Another pulse. Hotter. Slower. Deeper. This time it ripples. Like need. Like skin. Like hands where only air used to be. Romance presses both palms on the counter and hunches forward, exhaling like he’s in pain. “She’s letting him touch her.” he smiles wrily. “Lucky motherfucker-”

“Oh, fuck.” Baby hisses and scrubs a hand over his face, pacing now. “I swear, if he’s inside her right now I will burn this apartment down.”

“Shut up,” Jinu growls. “Don’t ruin it.”

“But—!”

“She’s choosing him,” Jinu says, quieter now. Not angry. Not jealous. Just… reverent. Like it hurts. Like it heals.

“Not that far, not yet.” Mystery whispers, his voice small. Hopeful.  “But she’s starting to want us,” “Really want us.”

Romance says nothing. His expression unreadable. He stares down into the bulgogi sauce like it’s the only thing holding him to earth.

“She’ll come to us too,” Baby mutters, sitting back down, hands twitching on his thighs. “Eventually.”

Another pulse hits—this one sweet. Soft. Settled. They all exhale like they’ve been holding their breath. Then—Romance smiles. A slow, dangerous thing. “Let her fall in love,” he says. “Let her remember what it feels like to be worshipped. To be ours.”

He finally looks up, eyes gleaming. “She’ll never escape us after this.”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

You wake to the steady rhythm of a heartbeat beneath your ear.

Warmth surrounds you—solid muscle, arms like a fortress around your waist, breath brushing your hair. You blink sleep from your lashes and lift your head slowly. The room is dim, painted in faint light from the setting sun bleeding through the curtains. Abby- no, Haneul’s arms tighten for just a moment, as if sensing your stirring.

His eyes crack open, slow and groggy, but the second he sees you awake, he smiles. Soft. Boyish. Unbelievably gentle for someone so sharp-edged and dangerous. "Hey," he murmurs, his voice still sleep-rough. "Sleep okay?"

You nod. "Yeah. Better than I have in a while." You don’t say why. But you both know.

Your body aches—not from pain, but from feeling. From finally letting something out, something ancient and caged and suffocating. Haneul’s story had shattered something in you, and you hadn’t realized how heavy it all was until he held it with you.

You rest your hand on his chest again, listening to the thud beneath your fingers. He exhales, like your touch soothes something deep in him.

Then a knock. Light and polite. “Dinner’s ready,” comes Mystery’s voice from the other side. “Abby, bring her down or I will.” You hear the smile in it. A threat. A promise.

You feel Haneul’s chest rumble with a low growl. “He’s getting too bold.” You laugh quietly and push off him, sitting up. “You promised not to kill your own bandmate.”

“Did I?”

You throw a pillow at him.

The dining table is already set—cozy and warm, lit with soft ambient lights and the faint smell of something savory and a little sweet. Galbi and Bulgogi, with tea and little folded napkins in the shape of hearts. You don’t ask who did that. You already know.

Mystery’s eyes light up the second he sees you. Not like they’re glowing (though they are faintly), but like you are. He takes your hand without asking, leads you to the table, and pulls out your chair with an elegant, shy little flourish. Then, before you can sit, he kisses your forehead.

You freeze. His lips linger longer than they should. Then he pulls back and simply stares at you. His fingers remain laced in yours as you sit.

You let him.

The others notice. They don’t speak on it, but you feel it—the way Jinu softens, the way Romance hums thoughtfully into his cup, the way Baby flicks his gaze from Mystery to you and back again, unreadable but watching.

Something’s shifted. Maybe it happened the moment Haneul touched your soul and showed you his scars. Maybe it happened long before that. You sip your tea in silence, letting Mystery’s hand remain curled gently over yours.

They keep glancing at you—each of them. Not out of suspicion, not even obsession this time. Something else. Affection. Maybe even awe. And for once… it doesn’t frighten you.

If Haneul’s story was that tragic, you think, tracing your fingertip over the lip of your mug, then how many other lifetimes have I lived inside their sorrow?

Your voice breaks the quiet. “I’m… sorry. For earlier. I know you guys mean well.”

Jinu shakes his head slowly. “You were scared. You had every right to be.”

“Still. I should… trust you.”

Romance leans his chin in his palm, watching you intently. “You’re here. That’s what matters.”

You swallow once. “I need to know something.” Every head lifts at the shift in your tone. “Why are demons following me?”

They exchange glances. It’s Jinu who speaks, his voice calm but iron underneath. “Because word got out.”

“About me?”

“About The Pact.” Romance’s voice is silk over steel. “Some of them doubted it for years. Thought Gwi Ma was bluffing. But now that they’ve seen you… they know you’re real.”

You feel the blood drain from your face. Jinu nods once. “You’re a symbol. A myth. The key to everything.”

“To us,” Haneul adds from across the table. His gaze is steady, anchored to yours.

“And now they want you,” Romance finishes. “To marvel. To worship. Maybe even to steal. Depends on the demon.”

You stare down at your food. The sudden weight of it all feels like it could crush you. But then—warm fingers squeeze yours. Mystery. Unwavering. Devoted. 

“You are ours to protect,” Jinu says. “Whatever comes. That bond between us? It’s not just magic. It’s real. It’s what keeps you safe.”

You look up. They’re all staring at you now. And not a single one of them blinks. You swallow past the lump in your throat. “Okay,” you whisper. “I trust you.”

And the relief in their eyes is so pure, it nearly breaks you open all over again. You begin to eat the delicious food prepared and go to grab more of the Bulgogi across the table. 

“Haneul, could you pass the Bulgogi please-” There’s a beat of stillness so sharp it cuts the air.

He freezes.

Your voice had been soft—barely above a breath—but it might as well have echoed off the walls. Four pairs of eyes flick to him instantly. Abby—no, Haneul—doesn’t move for a full second. Jinu’s lips twitch into the ghost of a smile. Romance hums, pleased. Mystery beams openly. Even Baby’s lip quirks in that subtle way of his.

But it’s Haneul who looks undone. His eyes meet yours—dark, glittering, soft in a way that should be terrifying coming from someone who could end nations. And yet, the only thing they carry is adoration. Worship. Wonder. 

He swallows. “Say it again.”

You blink. “Haneul—”

He closes his eyes. “Again,” he whispers.

“Haneul.” His knuckles turn white against the table’s edge.

“You’re going to make him short-circuit,” Mystery says fondly. Haneul smiles and every boy at the table watches that moment—not with envy, but with a shared fondness. Because the bond did flare then. You felt it. So did they. Threading tighter. Warmer. More unbreakable than before. And none of them would say it aloud… But they knew. That name in your mouth was holy. And it belonged to him.

Haneul coughs, handing you the bowl of Bulgogi with a slight tinge to his cheeks that made you gush internally. Cute.

The clink of chopsticks against porcelain fills the air as you eat dinner. Mystery leans closer as he gently places another spoon of Galbi onto your plate. Jinu silently refills your tea. Abby watches you from across the table, his grip tightening every time you look away. Romance twirls his spoon like he’s thinking too hard. Baby doesn’t eat—he just stares.

Dinner tastes warm, comforting. You toy with your rice for a moment. “Can I ask you something again?”

Jinu looks up instantly. “Anything.”

You hesitate, then glance at each of them. “Why are you in a boyband?”

Everyone goes still for a moment. Romance’s spoon halts midair. Jinu doesn’t blink. Abby’s jaw ticks, hard. Mystery goes stiff. Only Baby doesn’t react—but his eyes narrow slightly.

“That’s a fair question,” Jinu says at last. Too smooth. Too calm. Romance flashes a smile. Too polished. “We needed a way to be seen.”

“We came up with the idea and Gwi Ma told us to go ahead with it,” Abby grumbles, tone clipped.

You blink. “The demon king?”

“Yeah,” Romance says, more gently now. “We thought if we were famous—if the world worshipped us—you’d find your way to us again. Hear our voices. Remember something in your soul.”

“And it worked,” Mystery whispers, squeezing your hand. “You’re here.”

You look down, stomach fluttering. “So… everything was just for me?”

Jinu nods. “Always.”

Romance leans forward, voice soft like velvet and lined with knives. “You were the only one who was ever supposed to hear the songs. The rest of the world? Just echoes.”

Abby’s voice is low. “We became everything they loved so you’d never miss us.”

It’s overwhelming. A little terrifying. But something about the way they look at you makes it feel… real. True.

You don’t notice how they exchange glances once you lower your gaze to take another bite of your meal. Don’t see how Jinu’s knuckles whiten around his cup. Or how Baby finally looks away—like even he can’t hold your gaze when you’re this trusting.

They’re lying. Not about the bond. Not about the fame. But about the purpose.

Because the truth—about the souls their voices seduce and collect for Gwi Ma, about the weight of every fan who screamed their name and unknowingly gave up a piece of themselves—that truth would shatter something still fragile between you.

They’ll tell you. One day. But not tonight.

Tonight, you smile at them with trust blooming behind your eyes. And none of them have the heart to destroy it. Not yet.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The apartment is quiet except for the soft hum of the air purifier and the occasional flip of a page. You’re curled into the far corner of the couch, reading the book Romance gave you. The velvet cover is worn, the margins marked with his elegant handwriting—tiny, circling certain lines, underlining others. As if he already knew which ones you’d love.

Mystery sits beside you. Your legs are tucked over his lap, a throw blanket draped across both of you. He hasn’t moved in ten minutes. Not really. Just subtle things—his fingers occasionally grazing your ankle like he needs the contact. Like he’s memorizing the weight of you. He watches you read with an expression so soft it feels like it shouldn’t belong on a demon’s face.

“You’re quiet,” you murmur, not looking up.

“I like when you read,” he replies. His voice is low. Breathless. “It feels safe.”

You glance at him. He’s not blushing—he never really does—but his eyes are wide, unblinking. Locked on you like a starving thing. He continues, voice barely a whisper. “I hear feelings. Yours are quiet. Not sharp. Not angry.”

You hesitate, your thumb pausing mid-turn on the page.

“Most people… when they feel something, it hurts my head. Makes me itch. Makes me want to run.”

His hand brushes against your calf, soft. “But your fear doesn’t push me away. It makes me want to stay. Makes me want to hold you tighter.”

You look at him, your heart heavy. He’s so gentle when you let him be. So emotionally loud even in silence. You shift slightly and reach up to brush the strands of hair from his face. His lashes flutter as your fingers graze his temple. He leans into your touch like a cat who’s been cold for centuries and has finally found the sun.

You both stay like that for a moment—your fingers in his hair, his palm resting gently over your shin. Then the door opens. Jinu walks in first, flanked by Romance, Baby, and Haneul. Their jackets are damp from evening mist, the faint scent of cologne and cold air clinging to their clothes. They’re speaking lowly among themselves until they notice you and Mystery curled together on the couch.

Romance's mouth lifts at one corner. “Hope he wasn’t being too clingy.”

“He was perfect,” you say, brushing your fingers through Mystery’s hair. He leans into it with a soft hum. Baby drops into an armchair and sprawls like a cat. “Hope we didn’t interrupt.”

“Not at all,” you say. “How was everything?”

“Fine,” Jinu says. “Promotions. Interviews.”

“You didn’t watch the broadcast?” Romance asks, raising a brow.

“I caught some of it,” you reply. “Congrats on the win, by the way. I saw you beat Huntrix for the number one spot.”

There’s a silence that engulfs the room. Utter and immediate. You blink. “What? That’s a good thing, right?”

The shift in the room is subtle—but palpable. Romance’s jaw clenches. Haneul straightens. Baby stops playing with the sleeve of his hoodie. Mystery’s hand tightens slightly over your leg.

You frown. “Is there… something I’m missing?”

Jinu sighs. “The Huntrix girls…they’re not just idols,” His voice is quiet. Calculated. 

“They’re hunters,” Haneul adds, eyes unreadable.

Your brows furrowed in confusion and you tilt your head to the side in the same adorable way that made Baby want to squish you the other day. “Hunters? What do they hunt?”

“Us.” Mystery utters.

You pause. “Like… demon hunters?”

A beat.

“Yes,” Baby says softly. “Exactly like that.”

The words hit like cold water. “But…” You sit up straighter. “I talked to one of them once… Zoey. She seemed really nice.”

“What?” Romance snaps. His voice is sharp, already halfway to furious.

“She—she asked for my Instagram. And I gave it. I didn’t know she was—”

“You what?” Haneul’s voice is low. Dangerous. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

You flinch. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

“They’re not your friends,” Baby says, rising now, steps slow and deliberate. “They’re trained to destroy everything you’re starting to care about.”

“They don’t want your feed,” Mystery murmurs, brows furrowed. “They want leverage.”

You stare at them. At the fear disguised as anger on all their faces. The way they’re circling now. Closing in—not at you, but around you. Like a shield.

“I didn’t know,” you whisper.

Jinu moves closer. “Of course you didn’t.”

Romance exhales hard, running a hand through his hair. “That’s why we’re telling you now. So you don’t make that mistake again.”

“I didn’t think they were dangerous,” you say. “Zoey… she smiled. She even handed me some medicine.”

“Smiles don’t mean safety,” Haneul says.

“Some demons smile before they tear out your soul,” Mystery adds. “And some humans smile before they take a blade to your back.”

You look down at your hands, guilt pooling deep in your stomach.

“We’re not angry with you,” Jinu says after a pause, kneeling in front of you. His voice is low. Calming. “But you have to be careful.”

“They’re forming a barrier,” Romance says. “The Honmoon. A seal meant to lock demons out of the human world.”

“It’s been around since before we were demons,” Haneul adds, voice low. “They don’t just hunt. They exterminate.”

“But why?” you ask. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Silence stretches. One beat. Two.

“They don’t care about innocence,” Haneul says finally. “To them, a demon is a demon. No exceptions.”

“And the less we can touch this world,” Jinu murmurs, “the safer they feel.”

Baby’s jaw tenses. “And you… you’re close to us. Too close. That makes you a threat.”

You blink. “But they don’t even know what this is. They don’t know about the bond.”

“No,” Romance says, eyes unreadable. “But they see how we look at you. How we follow you. They know we’d burn everything to protect you.”

Mystery leans in, voice soft but sharp. “That makes you leverage.”

Your chest tightens.

“They’ll try to use you,” Haneul says. “To get to us. To break us. And they won’t care who you are.”

You press your fingers to your temples. The air feels heavier now. Like the weight of things you never asked to carry has settled on your shoulders. Still…

As you look at the boys—at their tension, their fear masked as fury, their tenderness wrapped in obsession—you don’t feel unsafe. You feel shielded. Even if their love is dangerous. Even if you’re only beginning to understand how far they’d go to keep you.

Baby steps forward and kneels beside you. He takes your hand gently and lifts it to his lips. “We’ll always be with you,” he says, breath barely brushing your skin. “Even if you don’t see us. Even if the whole world turns on you.” He presses a kiss to your knuckles. “Sleep safe tonight.”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The next day Mystery insists on walking you to work. He doesn’t say it outright. Just appears beside you with his hoodie half-zipped, his fingers brushing yours like they belong there. And maybe, at this point, they do.

“You don’t have to come,” you murmur, adjusting your bag.

“I want to,” he says simply. His gaze doesn’t quite meet yours, but you feel the intensity behind it anyway. “You were upset yesterday. I didn’t like it.”

You smile, small. A little tired. “You’re all like this, you know.”

He shrugs. “Only with you.”

The walk is quiet. Easy. At least until you turn the corner onto the street where the café should be—and everything stills. Mystery’s hand tightens around yours. There’s yellow tape stretched across the door. A printed notice slapped onto the glass:

“CLOSED: PENDING INVESTIGATION.”

Your breath catches. You step forward like it might change something. “No,” you whisper. “What—?”

Mystery doesn’t move. You spot Mina, your coworker, nearby and jog over. “What happened?” 

Mina looks shaken. “They said someone reported us—health code stuff, really serious. Spoiled food, pest control, tampered beverages. They think someone’s been… messing with customer orders.”

“That’s insane,” you breathe. “No one’s ever gotten sick—”

“I know,” Mina says, voice hushed. “It doesn’t make sense.”

She frowns. “You should talk to the owner, though. He said you shouldn’t come back. For your own safety.”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The second you walk back into the apartment, the atmosphere shifts. Mystery lingers at the door behind you, but the rest of the boys are already gathered—waiting. Like they knew. Like they planned this.

Romance raises a brow. “Back so soon?”

“Cut the act.” you jab. “You had the café shut down.”

Jinu doesn’t flinch. Neither does Baby. Only Haneul lowers his gaze, jaw tight. You look at Romance. He’s smiling faintly. Too sweet. Too calm.

“That place was a risk,” he says. “Too many unknowns. Too many people getting too close.”

“I worked there.”

“You don’t have to anymore,” he replies softly. “You have us.”

Your hands ball into fists. “You didn’t even ask me. You just—took it.”

“Well, we did ask you to quit… multiple times.” Romance steps forward, cupping your cheek. His thumb brushes under your eye. “We didn’t take anything,” he murmurs. “We removed what was hurting you. You just haven’t realized it yet.”

You pull back. “You don’t get to decide that.”

“But we will,” Baby cuts in, his voice like a warning purr. “If it means keeping you.”

You look at all of them—beautiful, terrifying, devoted—and feel the ground tilt beneath you. “I need air,” you mutter, pushing past them.

You shove open the sliding door and step out onto the balcony, the cool air cutting against your skin like glass. You grip the railing so tightly your knuckles pale, breath uneven from the fire still twisting in your chest.

They shut down your job. Your café. And maybe you weren’t in love with the place, but it was yours—your choice, your independence, your routine. And they just took it.

The door slides open behind you. You don’t turn. Of course it’s him. You’d know the steady footfalls of Baby anywhere. The calmest storm in the room.

“You knew,” you say, voice tight. “You all knew.”

He says nothing at first. Just steps up beside you, arms folded lazily over the balcony edge. “Romance was only trying to help.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “He has a funny way of showing it. That café was—”

“Beneath you,” Baby interrupts, turning to face you. “That café was full of men who stared too long. Of customers who asked for your name so they could whisper it later. Of noise. Of danger.”

You snap your gaze to him. “There were other people working there, too. People who needed that job. And now it’s shut down. Just so you could—what—feel better?”

He doesn’t blink. “I don’t care.”

The wind stills. “You—what?”

“I don’t care about them,” he repeats, voice soft but final. “You’re all I care about.” He steps closer, expression unreadable. “They’ll find something else. You? You’re not replaceable.”

You stare at him. Words jam in your throat, tangled with disbelief, frustration… something rawer, something too close to the chest. “I had a life,” you whisper. “A normal life.”

“You were haunted in it,” he says flatly. “And none of them knew.”

You open your mouth, but he cuts you off again—quietly this time. “You think you’re mad because you lost control,” he murmurs. “But it’s because we took what hurt you before you had to ask.”

He pauses, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek with more tenderness than you expect from someone whose words feel like a cage. And then, gently, with a voice full of conviction: “Let us be your monsters. We already are. The only difference is we’d kill for you.”

You exhale, shaky. The rage in your chest ebbs—but doesn’t vanish. You don’t know if it’s fear or relief or both. Because he’s not wrong. After what happened in the café yesterday, after the demon— You had been scared. And he knows that. They all do. And they’re doing what demons do: protecting what they think is theirs.

Even if it means burning everything else down.

You step back inside after a few minutes, arms folded tightly across your chest. All five boys are in the living room now, waiting. Watching. Jinu straightens first, and the others fall into line without speaking—like soldiers sensing their commander’s cue. But there’s no war here. Only the tension you dragged in with you.

You glance between them and sigh. “I’m still mad.”

Romance opens his mouth.

“Don’t,” you snap, holding up a hand. “Just—don’t.”

He closes it. Smiles. But there’s something smug tucked beneath it. You flop onto the couch with an exaggerated huff. “Well. Congrats. You’ve successfully ruined my only source of income. What now? I need to pay rent, I need to make a living—I have to find another job.”

Abby blinks. “No, you don’t.”

You throw a pillow at him. “I do! Unless you want me starving and sleeping in a park—wait, actually, I live here. So technically that’s your fault now.”

Romance hums, lounging against the arm of the couch. “We’ll give you whatever you need. How much do you want?”

You stare at him like he’s sprouted a second head. “What?”

“Money. Name your number.”

“I—what?! That’s not how this works!” You fling your arms in disbelief. “If anything, I should be paying you for letting me stay here!”

Jinu shrugs calmly. “Think of it as… us paying you to stay.”

Your jaw drops. “You’re renting me?”

“No,” Baby deadpans from the side, arms crossed. “More like… pay-to-own. Although—technically—we already own. So maybe it’s just… property tax?”

You gape at him. “Are you hearing yourselves?”

Mystery, perched beside you like a content shadow, takes your hand and kisses the back of it without a word. You stare at him. He stares right back. Shameless.

“You’re insane,” you mutter.

“Only for you,” Abby adds with a grin, ruffling your hair. You groan and sink further into the couch. “I seriously need to rethink every decision that brought me here.”

“You don’t have to work,” Jinu says, voice softer now. “Not if you don’t want to.”

You shoot him a tired glare. “And do what, exactly?”

“Whatever you couldn’t do before,” he says gently. “Sketch. Paint. Read all the books you used to dog-ear. Let the world slow down. Let us take care of the rest.”

You pause. There’s sincerity there, under the obsession. Love tangled with possessiveness. A future they’re building for you whether you asked for it or not.

“I don’t know,” you murmur. “I still feel like I’ve lost something.”

“Maybe,” Romance says, kneeling in front of you with a hand on your knee. “But you’ve gained everything else.”

His smile is too sweet. Too sharp. And in the quiet that follows, you feel all of them closing in—not physically, but emotionally. Wrapping around your life. Like a cage made of velvet and affection. You sigh again.

And no one dares point out that you didn’t stand up to leave.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

An hour later, the door clicks softly behind them.

They’re gone. Just for the day—practice, recording, meetings. You’d seen the schedule laid out neatly on the counter that morning. It felt strange… watching them move from obsessions to idols in a blink. Haneul’s soft kiss on your temple. Mystery brushing your hair with his fingers before pulling away last. Romance not saying anything, just looking at you like he’d already won.

You walk through the apartment barefoot. Too quiet. Too big…

It’s not long before you find it. A studio room. Sunlight filters in through gauzy curtains. Canvases leaned in a perfect row, a new sketchbook waiting, and a full set of paints—brushes already soaking in fresh water.

Your breath catches. They’d set this up.

Romance, maybe. Or Haneul. Or all of them together, orchestrated like everything else. As if giving you a toy better than the one they had just taken away.

Still—your fingers twitch. You walk towards the table and run your hands along the grain, the weight of the sketchpad like something sacred. You sit. When was the last time I did something for myself?

You open the book, pencil hovering. The first line is shaky. But the second is steadier. Soon, shapes form. Flowers. A hand. An eye. Hours pass. Paint clings to your fingertips. Your world shrinks to canvas and color.

And yet… it doesn't feel free. You look around at the soft studio light, the way everything’s been made to please you.

They say it’s freedom. But it feels like a beautifully decorated cage.

A gilded sanctuary. One they carved for you with devotion sharp enough to bleed. You sigh and glance at the piece you made—a half-formed portrait of someone smiling. You don't even remember choosing the smile. It just… happened.

Your lips twitch. Haneul. The way he looked at you when you whispered his name. When you touched his skin and felt him tremble like you were salvation.

Mystery—how he held your hand like it was glass and pressed a kiss to your forehead like he’d never known tenderness until then.

You smile. But it fades. Because then there’s Romance. Romance who always speaks last. Who always speaks right. Who makes you think it’s your idea to stay, to trust, to choose him—when you know, deep down, he’s been choosing for you since the moment you met.

Romance loves like a chess master—every word, every pause, calculated.

You remember his voice that morning—smooth, unapologetic. He made you feel unreasonable for being mad. He makes you feel like you’re choosing him… even when he’s already chosen for you.

You dip your brush in red. You drag the stroke across the page. Maybe it’s not even about what they do anymore. Maybe it’s about what you’re becoming.

Is this real love? Or just the kind that demons can offer?

You stare out the window for a long time. The sun’s dipped lower now, painting the sky in shades of peach. You used to have things—schedules, coworkers, rent. Now you have five boys, a luxury apartment, a sketchbook you didn’t buy… I want to stay, you think. But it’s hard to want something… when it’s already been decided for you. 

You lean your head against the wall, paint drying on your palms. Your chest aches. You want to believe their love is enough. But maybe it’s not about enough. Maybe it’s about control. And what’s left of you if you give it away.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The sound of the front door clicking shut echoes through the apartment. “We’re back,” Jinu calls. No response.

Baby’s brow furrows. “Where is she?”

“Maybe her room?” Abby—Haneul—starts to move, but Mystery shakes his head. “She’s in the studio,” he says quietly. “She needed quiet.”

The boys file down the hall and stop at the doorway. The studio light glows warm and low. And there you are—curled up on the little couch, a blanket half-draped over you, a half-finished painting of red and twilight left on the easel nearby. A brush rests loosely in your hand.

Romance exhales softly. “Of course she paints when she’s sad.”

Haneul steps forward but stops when Romance moves past him. “I’ve got her.”

Carefully, reverently, Romance scoops you into his arms. The others don’t argue. They only watch—some with envy, some with longing—as he carries you through the apartment like you’re made of glass. But they understood he probably wanted a moment with you alone today.

He lays you down on the bed and slips in beside you, one arm curled beneath your neck, the other splayed across your waist like a vow. You stir slightly at the shift in warmth.

He gazes down at you in adoration, dipping his nose into your hair to breathe in and savour your scent. “I just want what’s best for you,” he whispers into your hair. “Even if you don’t know what that is. Even if it means you’ll hate me.”

Your brow twitches. Your breath shifts. Minutes pass before you squirm in his hold. “Go back to sleep,” he murmurs, brushing your hair off your face.

Your eyes crack open, just enough to catch the shadows of his lashes. “I’m not tired,” you mumble.

A soft, amused noise vibrates in his chest. “Tsk. You shouldn’t lie.”

You nuzzle closer, eyes still fluttering shut, and whisper faintly, “You should take your own advice.”

Romance goes still. Then he smiles, crooked and heartbroken all at once. “You’re clever even when you’re half-asleep,” he mutters, lips against your temple.

You shift again, now more awake, but still safe in his hold. “Romance…”

He exhales like your voice is a drug. And then he says it—quiet and trembling. “I was scared you hated me.”

You meet his gaze. “I don’t.”

His smile is faint. “Even if you did… Hate me, love me… I’m not leaving. Not in this lifetime. Not in any other.”

There’s something dangerous in the softness of his voice. Something that grips your ribs from the inside and refuses to let go. And yet, you ask—quietly, carefully, “But…Why?”

His hand rises, fingers brushing your lower lip, thumb lingering like he’s memorizing the shape of your mouth. “Do you really want to know?” he murmurs.

You nod.

He leans his head back against the pillows, gaze dragging up to the ceiling—but you know he’s not seeing this room. He’s seeing a world long gone. A memory still bleeding.

“I was born the son of a courtesan. A secret whispered behind painted screens. A mistake never meant to speak above a whisper. I learned early that love doesn’t come freely. People love you for what you give them—what you show them. Not for what you are.”

You stay still, heart beginning to pound.

“They taught me to survive. To smile like I meant it. To lie like it was devotion. I could make anyone believe they were the only person in the world to me. I… I never had a name worth keeping. Just looks and lies and the ability to make people want me… for a night. Never longer. And I never believed in love… not really. Until you.”

His jaw tenses.

“I met you when you were everything I wasn’t. You were a noble. Engaged to a man who didn’t even look at you the way I did. And I—God—I wasn’t supposed to touch you. I wasn’t even supposed to breathe the same air.” 

He scoffs lightly, eyes pained. “You were a softness I couldn’t corrupt. But I tried. God, I tried. I lured you in like I was taught to. Sweet words. Secret meetings. Lies that sounded like dreams. But you saw me. Past the charm. Past the mask. You chose me.”

Your throat tightens.

“I fell in love with you. For real. For the first time. I asked you to run away. You refused. Not because you didn’t want me—but because you loved your family more than you loved yourself. You were protecting them.”

His voice lowers. Breaks. “They found out and they said I ruined you. That I spoiled something pure. They had you killed to keep your name clean.”

Silence. Dead, aching silence. You released a shaky breath and a tear trailed down your cheek at the pure ache in his voice. 

“I didn’t last long after that,” he says. “Not with a shattered soul and nothing left to lose. And I—” His voice breaks. “I died knowing it was my fault. That if I’d never touched you, you’d still be alive. I died. But not before whispering your name to the darkness and begging—begging—to see you again. I gave up everything for that one wish. And Gwi Ma listened.”

You press your forehead to his chest, the thud of his heart steady and real beneath your ear. His shirt takes your tear stains. “So that’s how it happened…” you whisper. Your heart ached at his pain. Not just how he lost you, but his life leading up to that. The longing he had for you- someone he thought he could never have. 

“I didn’t think I deserved to have you again,” he breathes into your hair. “But fate disagreed.” He kisses your temple. Then your cheek. Then lower, over your jaw.

“So this time…” he murmurs against your skin, “I won’t let go. You can run. You can yell. You can curse me.” His hand slides up your back, trembling with restraint. “But I’ll still follow. I’ll still want. I’ll still love you until it breaks me.”

You don’t answer. You just look at him—really look at him. At the boy who once had nothing. The man who once begged for your love and paid for it with your life. The demon who clawed through centuries just to see you again. And he’s here. Broken. Beautiful. Yours.

Your lips hover near his—close, trembling, not touching. He waits. He always does. Like he’s terrified you’ll vanish again if he moves too soon.

Then, at last, you lean in. Your mouth finds his like a sob. Like surrender. Like an apology across lifetimes. And he shatters.

His hands fly to your waist, yanking you into his lap like it’s instinct—like every part of him has waited for this moment with a hunger no mortal could endure. He kisses you like it’s the only thing keeping him alive, like he can breathe through your mouth and nothing else. He’s rough, then gentle, then rough again. Kisses that taste like desperation. Like regret. Like devotion sharpened into something feral.

You gasp into him, and he swallows the sound greedily.

But then—you break.

A sob catches in your throat. Your eyes flood. You pull back, barely, lips brushing his, and whisper through the ache, “You must’ve been in so much pain…”

He stiffens. Then stills. You’re crying. For him. His gaze darkens with something ancient and raw. And then—he moves. He leans in, eyes locked on yours, and licks the tear as it slips down your cheek. Slow. Reverent. Like your sadness is sacred.

Then he kisses it. And the next one. And the next.

“I was in agony,” he murmurs between soft, trembling kisses. “When they took you. When you wouldn’t run. When I couldn’t save you. I burned every night with your name in my mouth. But this—” his voice breaks as he kisses your jaw, your cheek, your eyelids— “this is worse. Watching you cry for me. Knowing I did this to you again.”

You try to speak, but he cuts you off with a kiss. Tender. Then deeper. Deeper still. His hands slide beneath your shirt, not to take—just to feel. Just to touch the skin he lost so long ago. His fingers tremble as they trace the curve of your spine.

“You were too good for me then,” he says into your neck. “And you’re too good for me now.”

“Stop it,” you whisper, hands fisting into his shirt. “Don’t say that.” 

There’s a silence that washes over the room, a silent understanding, like he’s savoring your presence in his arms like this, in a way he never got to have you before. In a way that he thought only existed in dreams. 

You lean your forehead against his, and with a whisper you ask: “…What’s your real name?”

He stills. Then leans close—his lips brushing yours with infinite gentleness. “Seoha.”

You whisper it back, trembling: “Seoha…”

He exhales, like you’ve just undone him completely. “Say it again.”

You do. He lets out a sound between a sigh and a moan. He presses his forehead to yours like a prayer. “You don’t know what that does to me.”

You kiss him again. Longer this time. Deeper. And he kisses you back with every century in his bones. With every nightmare. With every echo of your name whispered in the dark, across lifetimes he thought he’d never escape.

“I’ll never lose you again,” he breathes. “Even if you hate me. Even if you run. I’ll burn the world before I let anyone take you.”

You curl against him, his skin hot against yours, his arms locking around you like chains spun from longing. Your tears finally stop. And just before you fall asleep in his arms, you whisper one last time into the quiet of his chest—

“Seoha…”

His grip tightens. And in the dark, he breathes against your temple:

“This time… I’ll keep you forever.”

TO BE CONTINUED

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A/N: Wahh I hope you guys enjoyed this one! I wanted to focus on Romance's actions and understanding his character and why he is the way he is. Given his backstory, it explains why he's more controlling and manipulative- because you didn't listen to him once before and it cost you your life. Which explains his need to control you and your decisions. I also chose the name Seoha to fit his character - it means “dawn river” — and it evokes something calm, seductive, poetic… but also inevitable. Like a current pulling you in, and feels like someone born of the night world who dreams of the sun: aka you!

Let me know if you liked this chapter! Every comment, reblog, like, I see it all and really appreciate it! <3 And as always, thank you for reading!

Willa x

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[yunzyoi]

𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 (n.rk)

[NSFW] Chrome Hearts Rings - ni-ki x f!reader

𓂃۶ৎ [니키] Booking a flight on a random night just because you had a fight with your boyfriend is totally normal right? Traveling across the world just because you don't wanna see him it's totally normal, right? Getting drunk in another country and dancing with a total stranger, is beyond normal, right?

٠࣪⭑ cw/tags: smut, dom!ni-ki and sub f!reader student. porn with plot, unprotected sex, alcohol, smoking, exhibitionism, dirty talk, rough sex, drunk sex, fingering, squirting, public, car sex, cheating, jake, sunghoon and jay cameo, mdni. don't read if uncomfortable.

٠࣪⭑wc: 4k

٠࣪⭑ tags: @woniesbae @nicholaslefthand @littlesweettea-aine @puppiesfolder

Maybe having that fight with your boyfriend wasn't so bad. You wouldn't have met this cute stranger if it wasn't because of it after all ᯓᡣ𐭩

୨ৎ

First year of college had been close to hell. The huge change from High School to college was almost unbearable. Your A+ grades from High School were equal to a C in college and your need for academic validation was killing you. It was messy, the dorms, and campus, and the lectures. You were a mess as well, trying to just pass your classes. But what was making it really a living hell, was your boyfriend, Jay.

Jay was your boyfriend since sophomore year in High School, he used to be sweet and romantic. However, during senior year he became colder, yet so possessive. When you graduated, both ended up going to different colleges. You went to MIT and he went to NYU. You're still dating him, but he has become more and more controlling and toxic throughout the year. To the point where he will call you every time you get off campus.

It gets to a point, right? You couldn't bear it. He came to visit you in campus, you acted normal. But once you mentioned his controlling behavior he got defensive. It escalated into a huge fight, yelling, and insulting until your roomate stepped in and kicked him out.

Your fingers move quickly through the phone, tears in your eyes while you deal your best friend's number. Sunghoon picks up after a couple of minutes. He's sleepy, sounds like you just woke him up. You feel a pang of guilt in your chest. Sunghoon was in Japan right now, so it was probably really early for him.

"Hey, sweetheart" He says. "It's 6 a.m you know—" Sunghoon's heart drops when he hears you sob. He sits in his bed in one quick motion. "Hey, hey, what happened, tell me" He knew the reason you were sobbing, he knew the idiot who was making you cry. He tightens his fist on the sheets. "What did he do"

You break into tears, nonstop, just crying on Sunghoon like you always do. Every time Jay did something you'd just go to your comfort place: Sunghoon, your best friend since you were in Middle School. You tell Sunghoon everything through the phone as he tries to calm you down.

"I just wish you were here" you sob, sniffing a little and he chuckles.

Both staying silent for a little longer before Sunghoon speaks again.

"What classes do you have tomorrow?" He asks, something in his voice tells you he's got something in mind.

"Tomorrow's Friday, just one economy lecture" You say softly, your throat feeling rough from crying. "Why?"

"You up to book a flight right now and come to Japan with me for the weekend?" Your heart skips a beat. You can hear the excitement in his voice. "I'll pay it for you, a little treat, you'd stay with me, forget about Jay for a couple of days, clear your mind, yeah?"

"Sunghoon...I—" You knew Sunghoon was rich as hell but it was still hard for you to accept things like this, especially when it's so sudden. Yet your heart is almost breaking right now. "Yes, yes, thank you, Hoon"

You depart from LGA Airport at 10 p.m and arrive in Tokyo around 1 a.m on Saturday. Sunghoon recieves you with open arms and you just crash in them for a hug, a needed one. He takes you to his hotel, lets you take a shower and then you just fall asleep in his bed. He wakes you up around 8 p.m of the same day and chuckles at your state.

"Do you wanna hang out?" He asks. "I just got invited to a place"

You agree with Sunghoon to hang out and get dressed quickly, doing a simple makeup and spending more time than you should on your hair. The place where Sunghoon takes you is not exactly your type of place but you didn't care since you were with him. It was kinda like a bar, drinks, food, music, people dancing. Sunghoon guides you to a specific place where two guys are having a drink. One of them stands up waving, black hair, sharp features. He greets Sunghoon with so much excitement, perfect english and a thick aussie accent.

"Yo man! So long— That's your girl?" The guy lands his eyes on you, big smile, so happy.

"Nah, that's my best friend" Sunghoon chuckles as he introduces you both. "This is Jake, he's the guy that invited me" I nod and smile at Jake.

"Your best friend's so beautiful, huh" He laughs and you all glance at the other guy. Sharp eyes, a cigarrette between his fingers, hands full of Chrome Hearts. He's hot. "This is Riki, High School friend"

Riki nods and extends his hand to Sunghoon and then to you, giving you a nod, lips curling up in a smirk. You guys sit, Sunghoon next to Jake, and you next to Riki. Sunghoon and Jake quickly start catching up, Riki occasionally participating in their conversation. You feel a little akward. Suddenly Riki offers you a cigarrette.

"You smoke?" He asks. Oh. His voice was deep. You quickly shake your heard and he chuckles. "No smoke? damn"

"Nah I don't like that" You say softly while you see him take the cigarrete to his lips, following it with your eyes.

"You drink?" He asks next as he takes a drink to his lips as well.

"A little..." You say. It was true, you didn't really like it that much. He chuckles again, irritating you a little bit. He drinks a little while you get lost in your thoughts.

Somehow your mind flying back to America, to New York, where your boyfriend was. Your boyfriend that hasn't even tried to contact you yet. You chuckle and Riki looks at you as he exhales the smoke off his lungs. You grab his drink from the table and take it to your lips swallowing it all. When you stop, Riki is just looking at you with a smirk, he's not impressed, much less worried, he's excited.

"Damn" Jake says and you both look at him. "You okay?" He asks and you nod.

You look at Sunghoon but he isn't looking at you. You follow his eyes and they're set on a girl, blonde, good curves, at the bar. You tap his leg with your feet under the table and he looks at you. You smirk, doing a motion with your eyebrows. "Go" He bites his lips, indecisive and then leans closer to you.

"Will you be alright?" He asks, still worried about you and you just nod smiling. "Fine, don't drink too much" And with that Sunghoon disappears from the table.

"Oh that bastard" Jake says and stands up looking down at his phone. "I gotta go, it'll be quick" He glances at Riki and warns "Don't do anything stupid"

Riki lifts his arms like he's offended as Jake leaves. His eyes settle on you once you're both alone.

"So...rough day?" He asks looking down at his empty cup. You nod, not really wanting to talk about it. "You're good" He said. "That one was a strong one"

"The fact that I don't drink that much doesn't mean I'm bad at it" You say, loosening a bit with him. You've been akward and seating like a statue for about 20 minutes. He smirks at your response.

"Should we get another round? Two cups this time"

You don't even hesitate. You were totally down for more. Your mind just kept reminding you about your boyfriend, and how heartbroken you felt yesterday when he yelled at you. It's okay to sit down with this handsome stranger and have a drink, right?

About half a bottle later, you lean your head against Riki's shoulder, in a tipsy state. Riki chuckles. "Giving up already, princess?" You giggle biting your lip at the petname and then sit up straight.

"Did I tell you my boyfriend is a toxic bastard?" You murmur looking at him, honesty coming pureley from the effects of the alcohol in your system. Riki doesn't seem surprised or tuned in, he drinks a bit more and smirks.

"Yeah? Why don't you leave him?" He asks leaning back. You take in his appearance for a second, longer than you should. His fit was extravagant, baggy jeans way too baggy, tank top, jacket and a lot of Chrome Hearts accessories. Dude was a Chrome Hearts freak. You blush a little when you look up and realize he was staring at you the same way you were staring at him. "So?"

"What?" You ask, blushy and giggly.

"Your boyfriend"

You bite your lower lip and sigh. "I love him, I can't just..."

Riki turns around a little, irritated, not by you but by your stupid argument. He serves another drink for himself and one more for you. You grab it, no hesitation. Music sounds in the background, Champaign & Sunshine, one of your favorites. The new song makes you excited. You stand up. "Oh my god, I love this song. Riki looks up at you with a smirk on his face. You swallow the rest of your drink and start moving to the music.

Riki presses his cheek against his hand, looking at you while biting his lip. He had to recognize you were probably the most attractive woman he had ever seen. You were smily, and blushy, and adorable, but his heart rate went up whenever you moved slightly towards him and the V line of your top moved lower. He wanted to be decent but every time you laughed softly and he looked down at you, you're breast were on his face. He watches you dance, as you move your hands down your body. The little set you're wearing making your curves more pronounced, Easier for him to imagine how'd be like to hold your waist while you dance.

You laugh when you look down at him and see him just staring. "What are you doing!" You say, yelling over the music. "Dance!" That's all you say before climbing on the table and starting to dabce up there. Riki moves quick, leaning back, finally a little surprised but quick to adopt his teasing demeanor. He smirks looking up. He has a good view of your ass from this angle and if he just moves a little he can actually see your panties. God, he was fighting demonds, he really wanted to be decent.

You look down at him, your heart skipping a beat at how attractive he suddenly looks. I mean, you already thought he was hot but now, now that he's leaning back, now that he's manspreading, legs taking more place than they should, looking up at you with that smirk and those hunter eyes, now he looks extremely attractive. Something in you just snaps, you start moving, slower, seductive, sexy. You wanna impress him, because you like the way he's looking at you. Because no matter what you do, he won't stop, and it's driving you crazy.

Your body heats up, you're not sure if it's the alcohol or how hard you're blushing right now. He takes that damn cigarrette in his mouth, eyes glued on your body as you put up a show for him. Your hands slide up your body, tugging on the edge of your top and you do it, what you never thought you'd do. You remove your top, right there, on the table. No one notices, everyone is past drunk, in their own worlds. And you don't care, you only care about the pair of eyes burning beneath you right now. You look down, Riki shifts in his position, bothered, he's feeling the heat too.

You're wearing a little lacy bra, small, tits pushing out, causing Riki to almost choke on his cigarrette. He knows you're doing it on purpose, he knows the show it's exclusively for him and that he has the VIP access. He bites his lips leaning his head back, groaning softly. He's getting worked up fast. You wave your hand at him, inviting him and that's it, something snaps inside him too and he climbs that table before his brain processed the invitation.

His body glues to yours from behind, hands on your exposed waist, his Chrome Hearts rings colder than ice making contrast with the heat of your skin. His face on your neck, lips against your skin. You can feel his breath tingling next to you ear and it makes you shiver, pushing yourself back against him to feel him. And you dance, moving your ass against his half- hardness. You arch a little, feeling him up, lifting your arms and leaning back against his shoulder as his hands roam your body.

"You're so beautiful, you know?" He murmurs in a low voice that makes you want to take off your panties too.

"Yeah, I get that a lot" You say playfully and he chuckles.

His hands slide up, easily wrapping around each of your breasts and you gasp but don't pull away. His lips press againat the crook of your neck and you shiver gasping again, making him chuckle.

"You're so sensitive" He whispers. "I'm not really doing much"

୨ৎ

You stumble against Riki's body as both of you exit the place from behind, he holds your wasit, kissing your neck while walking. He devours your neck, wet kisses mixed with bites. You moan softly, the alcohol getting the worst out of both of you. Riki slides down his hands, gripping your ass. You moan softly as he presses you against the brick wall of the parking lot.

"Fuck" He whispers.

You moan softly, wrapping your arms around his neck while holding your top in one of your hands. He chuckles while he continues to taste your neck. He pulls back smirking, admiring your flushed face and then leans down for a kiss. His lips crash with yours in a passionate kiss. Intensity of a huracane. He bites down on your lower lip, his tongue eager to explore your mouth. You moan softly and pull back. Suddenly feeling aware of your actions.

"No— No, I have a boyfriend" You say worriedly but Riki buries his face in your neck, kissing it deliciously, making your knees weak.

"Is he here?" He asks between kisses. "I don't see him"

His hand slides under you shorts, quickly reaching your pussy, feeling your wetness through the fabric of your panties.

"You're so wet" He whispers. "And I bet it's not for him?"

You moan softly, fisting Riki's jacket. His fingers move quick, pulling your panties to the side. Once you feel his fingers and the cold of his rings directly on your skin it's like you lose yourself. You moan again, his fingers teasing your entrance. Riki's breath becomes heavier, and he rests his face on his arm against the wall behind you.

"That's it, see? I'm making you feel so good, aren't I?" He says and chuckles seeing how you clinge to him while he fingers you slowly. "Want me to stop?"

"No– Please" You say leaning back your head. "Don't stop"

Riki's fingers tease your entrance a little, tips sliding in and out before finally shoving his fingers entirely in. You moan clinging to his jacket and he buries his face in your neck again, resting it there. His fingers move with precision, he knows what he's doing. He curls his fingers inside hitting your sweet spot and you hold onto him like your life depends on it.

From afar you two look like a couple having a cute moment, hugging each other. But no one can see his hand shoved in your shorts and his fingers working you like you've never been worked before.

Riki can feel your walls squeezing his fingers and the wetness spreading to the palm of his hand.

"Fuck, you're so wet" He says in a husky voice. "Come for me, princess"

You shake in his arms and he presses you against the wall a little while covering your mouth when you finally come undone. He works you through your orgasm until you've calmed down, then he removes his hand and holds you for a little longer whike kissing your neck.

"You okay?" He asks, licking your shoulder and you nod, too satisfied to even talk.

୨ৎ

Oh that bricks wall wasn't the end of it, once you two got in his car and Riki started driving, things just got even more heated and messier. You're next to him, legs open, panties gone, squirming and whining while his fingers sink in your pussy over and over again in every red light.

"Riki" You moan softly and he chuckles removing his hand again once the light turns green. You protest and he bites his lips.

"You really cannot wait" He says turning right and driving into a building's parking.

"What?" You protest again at his words but he's already leaning for a kiss.

His lips collide with yours with more intensity. Something about Riki is that he gets more and more excited and every new kiss becomes more dirty. His tongue licks your lower lip while grabbing your waist and pulling you into his lap. You can smell the alcohol and cigarrettes in his breathe and it somehow just turns you on in a nasty way. He buries his face in your neck, hands on your waist. You're only wearing your bra by now.

"You look so pretty like this" He says in a husky voice. "All naked in my lap"

You moan softly leaning your head back. This man hasn't stopped giving you compliments since you two escaped from that bar without telling Sunghoon or Jake. His compliments sound sweet, he isn't trying to be nasty yet.

"Where are we?" You ask softly and he pulls back smirking at you with messy hair.

"My building" He says breathy.

You tilt your head, leaning for a short kiss. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against him and groaning into the kiss. You bury your face in his neck and start nibbling and licking. Riki groans again, shifting in his seat and you can feel his cock straning against the fabric of his pants. Your hands slide down his body and up again only so you can remove his jacket.

Riki groans, rolling up his hips. You moan softly sliding down your hands until your fingers reach his belt. Your hands move quick. Riki smirks, seeing the change in your demeanor. You were holding back until now, torn between your loyalty to Jay and your attraction towards Riki, whose last name you don't even know but thinking of Jay only makes you want to throw up every time. Riki helps you with his pants, his hard cock springing free right in front of you.

Riki gasps, looking down and hisses when your hand wraps around it. You smirk biting your lip and squeeze it a bit before moving your hand slowly. It's already leaking pre-cum so it's easy for you to move your hand. Riki holds your hips and leans back his head groaning and gasping.

"Oh fuck— Oh don't stop" He says between moans.

You increase the speed of your hand and lean forward to attack his neck with bites and hickeys. Riki moans, his fingers digging in your hips.

"That's it, Oh– don't stop, you're doing so good" He whispers looking at you with hooded eyes. You bite your lip feeling his hands move to your back to finally unhook your bra, removing the last piece of clothing on your body. You moan softly when his hands wrap around your breasts and aqueeze them.

"God, you're so perfect" He whispers and you moan again. "Fuck, I want you to ride me"

You stop for a second looking at him and he smirks pulling your hips towards him. It's quick, one second your hands were on him and in a blink his cock was on your entrance. He pushes you down slowly and you just moan hiding in his shoulder.

"You're so wet" He whispers breathy. "So tight"

You moan sharply when he bottoms up an lean against his chest. He doesn't give you time to adjust, his hips snap, moving upwards at a fast rythm while you hold onto him. You're sure your moans are heard in the entire parking lot and you don't really care right now. You're only thinking of the way Riki's cock is filling you up. He thrusts up into you, making you moan harder with each one.

He stops for a second and you take over, moving your hips in circles, Riki groans letting you move by yourself. You moan again bouncing a little until he starts moving again, pressing you against the wheel and thursting up into you again at a diabolical rythm.

He grabs your breasts again, squeezing them and then leans to take one of your nipples into his mouth. The moans and the sound of his cock going in and out of you echo inside the car. You can feel your orgasm building up and he can feel your walls squeezing his cock impossibly.

"Oh, fuck—" He groans against your chest, his thrust becoming erratic.

You moan louder, your head leaning back as you feel it coming. It's hard, almost leaving you with no breath, your legs shake violently and your nails dig in his shoulders. You coming on his cock was his last straw. He thrusts up two or three more times before pulling you up, grabbing his cock and fisting it quickly until every drop of his cum has splashed over his own clothes and your bare stomach and chest.

୨ৎ

The night didn't end in the car, once you two managed to get to his penthouse—yes, gis penthouse—without getting caught, Riki probably fucked your soul out. He fucked you against the kitchen counter first, then you two somehow fell on the couch, where he ate you out. His tongue moved so perfectly that you came undone in seconds. Then, you ended up in his room, fucking again like there's no tomorrow. He probably made you diacover new positions because the way this man found a new angle every time to deatroy your insides was insane.

Something is for sure, you've never had such a crazy night in your life. No, Jay does not fuck like this.

You sigh against the pillow. Not a single inch of guilt in your body. Riki groans next to you, his arm covering his eyes. It's been about 30 minutes since the last round. You stir in his bed and manage to speak.

"Are you tired?" You ask, very innocent question.

Riki chuckles. "You wanna go again?"

"Oh– That's not what I meant"

"I can go again if you want to, princess" He affirms and smirks looking at you.

"Where do you get that energy from, oh my god" You laugh softly. By now, you're both sober.

"Uhm...I'm young?" He laughs too and turns to his side.

"Young and rich, I see" You say looking around. "Fancy place."

He chuckles pulling closer to you, his fingers on your chin while leaning for a kiss. "You're welcomed whenever you wanna forget about that asshole"

You bite your lip rolling your eyes. "I'm gonna break up with him when I get back to America"

Riki smirks. "Yeah?" You nod looking at his lips shortly. "That's good" He whispers. "He doesn't deserve those skills of yours"

You chuckle as he buries his face in your neck, kissing and nibbling.

"I can't believe I'm in a stranger's penthouse right now" You laugh softly. "I don't even know your last name"

"Nishimura." Riki says pulling back. "Nishimura Riki"

Gosh, even his last name is perfectly moanable.

"Nishimura? Like the clothing brand?" You say tilting your head and he chuckles.

"Where do you think the penthouse came from?"

"No way" You say but you're not really that interested, just shocked that you're really in Nishimura's bed right now. "Damn"

Riki kisses your collarbones. "Impressed?"

"A little" You respond.

"Enough to make you wanna stay 'til morning?" He asks, his kisses getting a little hungrier.

"Mmh is that an invitation?" You ask tangling your fingers in his hair. "I'll have to accept it, would be rude to say no"

Riki smirks as he settles between your legs and continues to devour you whole.

© yunzyoi 2025. all rights reserved.

[nhmkhnh]

FRAT RULES, FUCK HARDER.

PAIRINGS: dom!frat girl!vi x sub!fem!reader

PREFACE: you’re the pretty girl she swore she wouldn’t fall for… and now she’s showing up to your 8am class in yesterday’s hoodie and a hickey the size of zaun.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: uhmmm i don’t even know what’s up with me lately, guess i’ve officially entered my smut era hahaaa 😭 like... who would've thought?? there was a time i literally didn’t know how to write smut at all—if past me saw what i’m writing now, she’d be absolutely shooketh 😭💀

WARNING(S): lowercase, explicit content (minors & men dni) TAGS: strap-on sex ;; hoodie kink (?) ;; possessive!vi ;; cocky!vi ;; party sex ;; mirror sex ;; jealousy sex ;; overstimulation ;; public teasing ;; pet names (r: baby/princess) ;; vi has a strap collection don't ask me why. navigation.

1. vi meets you at a mutual party and makes it her life mission to get your number by the end of the night. she’s obnoxious about it too—grabbing the aux, playing some sexy slow jam, leaning on the doorframe with a red solo cup like,

“this one’s dedicated to the girl in the corner with the skirt i’m tryna take off later.” you swear you’re not into her. and yet.

2. she’s the type to crash your sorority movie night just to sit beside you, smelling like weed, cheap perfume, and danger. she’ll whisper things like:

“this plot’s shit… bet i could give you a better night in twenty minutes.” and you hate how your legs press together every time she smirks.

3. she wears crop tops with her frat letters, loose sweats slung low, calvin’s peeking out, and a backwards cap. tongue piercing glinting. she chews gum like sin. she knows exactly what she looks like when she sprawls across the couch and says,

“c’mere, i’ll make you forget your gpa.”

4. she rizz texts at 2am like:

“u up?” “u want sum chaos or sum comfort?” “im outside. bring ass.” and when you open the door? she's shirtless under her zipped-down hoodie, biting her lip, eyes red-rimmed and so so needy.

5. frat girl!vi always smells like beer, cologne, and sweat—but like… in a way that makes you insanely feral. her room's a disaster, but her bed is soft and warm and always has a hoodie of yours she "accidentally" stole.

6. she calls you “princess” and “baby girl” in public, throws her arm around your shoulder at parties and growls in your ear,

“bet none of these fuckers know what you sound like when you’re begging.” you shove her but your face is burning.

7. vi fights anyone who flirts with you at a party. straight up pushes a guy back by the chest like,

“back off, bro. she’s not single—she’s mine.” you haven’t even officially dated yet. that doesn’t stop her from marking you up every damn weekend.

8. she drives you to 8am class in her beat-up bike, still in her boxers, still buzzed from last night. one hand on the throttle, the other on your bare thigh, saying,

“why don’t you skip today and let me fuck that pretty brain right outta your head?” ma’am. please.

9. her tattoos peek out of her tank top when she’s lifting weights in the frat basement gym, smirking when she catches you watching. she drops the barbell and says,

“wanna ride something heavier, sweetheart?” the girls' bathroom has never recovered.

10. she makes you sit in her lap at every frat bonfire. she’ll wrap her arms around you and kiss your neck in front of everyone like it’s a damn claiming ritual, while whispering,

“tell me who you belong to, baby. c’mon. say it.”

11. frat girl!vi has zero impulse control when she’s drunk. she’ll pull you into a closet during a party, lock the door, and say,

“seven minutes in heaven? nah, we’re staying until your knees give out.” you emerge half an hour later. hair a mess. nobody questions it.

12. vi loves taking you to parties just to show you off—hand on your waist, other hand low on your back. she tells everyone,

“y’all can look, but if anyone touches her? you’ll be drinkin’ outta a straw ‘til graduation.” and then she turns to you and grins like the devil.

13. when you're studying in the library, she slides in beside you, unzips your hoodie just to leave hickeys on your collarbone. says,

“you’re doing great, baby. just needed to leave my signature, y’know?” you’re late to lecture. again.

14. she gets banned from your dorm after sneaking in one too many nights, but she still climbs up your window with the dumbest grin.

“romeo who? let me in, babe. i brought snacks and strap.” and you always let her in.

15. she gets absolutely feral when you wear her frat hoodie and nothing else. throws you on the bed and growls,

“you’re reppin’ my name now, huh? let me show you what it means to wear those letters.” and babe… you don’t walk straight for two days.

ཐི❤︎ཋྀ smut bonus:

1. vi has a whole-ass drawer labeled “emergency strap kit.” no, seriously. it has lube, multiple harnesses, cute pastel-colored toys and an engraved one she calls “the finisher.” if you're ever alone in her room too long, she’ll lean in with that low rasp and go,

“pick your poison, sweetheart. we’re not stopping ‘til the sun’s up.” she means it too. you’ve cried on that mattress more times than you can count—always in the best way.

2. she’s obsessed with eating you out while you’re still wearing her clothes—especially those loose-ass sweatpants that hang off your hips. she’ll tug them down slow with her teeth, spread your thighs and groan,

“fuck, baby… always so wet for me. look at this mess. i haven’t even touched you yet.” and when she does? you’re shaking. she pins your hips down. makes you say her name over and over like a prayer.

3. she moans when you moan. vi’s a vocal dom—gritty growls, filthy praise, shamelessly unhinged. she’ll be balls-deep in you with her strap, sweat dripping down her chest, hair sticking to her forehead, and she’ll pant:

“you feel that? that’s all mine. you were fuckin’ made for me, princess.” then she’ll grab your jaw and say, “say it. tell me who you belong to.” and if you hesitate? she slaps the inside of your thigh and starts going harder.

4. frat girl!vi loves mirror sex. like, she’ll drag you to her full-length mirror and bend you over in front of it, whispering,

“look at you, baby… fucked-out on my strap, droolin’ on yourself. that’s my good girl.” she holds you by the throat sometimes. not to choke—just to keep you watching. and when you come? she grins, proud as hell, and doesn’t stop.

5. she has this thing where she fucks you on her frat letters jacket like it’s a ceremony. drapes it under you on the bed and says,

“you’re mine now. no one else gets to touch you like this. say it.” and when you do, breathless and ruined, she just goes, “good girl. now scream my name.”

6. vi adores overstimulation. she’ll edge you at first—multiple times, licking you and pulling back, teasing your clit with her fingers and saying,

“you want my strap, babe? then beg. crawl into my lap and beg like a pretty little slut.” and when you finally get it? she makes sure you take all of it. hands on your hips, body flush to yours, murmuring, “you wanted this, didn’t you? be a big girl. take it all for me, baby.”