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yunalinwrites · 21 hours ago

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saja boys' sixth member is... a girl ? - first time seeing you in girly clothes | saja boys x reader

series summary: in this story, you are pretending to be a boy. not just any boy--a saja boy. but what will you do when not even your fellow members--the ones you now share a dorm with--can find out you're actually a girl? stay tuned for more!! (heavily based on you're beautiful kdrama + ouran high school host club)

scene summary: after having always seen you a boy, seeing you in your true form has them feeling some type of way… (lots of possessiveness + a teensy weensy bit of suggestiveness) / based on this req

It was a hot summer midnight in the Saja Boys’ dorm and you couldn't sleep. Between the faulty AC and the release of your guys’ new album coming soon, you found yourself restlessly tossing and turning.

At this point, you'd already come clean to the boys about how you're actually a girl, so you figured it wouldn't hurt to start wearing your more feminine pajamas. After all, if you had to constantly be playing the part of a boy during the day, you could at least stay in touch with your feminine side during the night. Although, it didn't occur to you that none of your roommates had actually seen you in your true form…

💪 Abs caught you on your way out of the convenience store. You had a craving for rice balls, so you threw on a cropped tank top and pajama pants and ran to the nearest corner store. It seems like you weren't the only one, though; just before you reached the exit–a bag-ful of goodies in your hand–the doors slid open with a chime.

“Abby?”

In front of you was none other than your pink-haired roommate, also wearing pajama pants and slides. On top of that–though he wasn't matching crop tops with you today–he had on a Saja Boys hoodie that somehow did little to conceal his muscles.

“Y/N?” he said.

“Abby!” you exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah, I was on a jog and I got thirsty.” He shoved his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie which--unbeknownst to you–was his “lying tic”. What actually happened is that he noticed you sneaking out late and, in order to make sure you were safe, followed you all the way here.

It was dark out, though, so he hadn't really seen you in the light. Until now, where the store’s flickering fluorescent light was shining on you.

To him, it was a beam from the heavens. You weren't wearing a binder--or a bra for that matter--to conceal your chest, and the crop top put the rest of your figure on display. And even though your face wasn't much different in the same sense, your outfit gave it a completely new context that he couldn't look in the eye without blood rushing to his cheeks… and elsewhere…

“You were on a jog at midnight…?” you questioned.

“Uh--yeah. I, uh… do midnight jogs. Along with my morning jogs. And also… afternoon jogs.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, not-so-subtly flexing with a cross of his arms.

You giggle. “Ah, I see. So that's your secret to a six pack?” With his hands out of his hoodie pocket, you take the opportunity to poke playfully at his abs.

At that, his face turns even pinker than his hair.

“Don't worry, I won't tell anyone,” you promise with a wink, bringing your pointer finger to your mouth in a shushing motion.

He doesn't say anything--which you don't realize is because he's still too occupied with taking you all in–so you take it as your cue to leave.

“I should probably go now,” you say. “Make sure you stay hydrated on your… midnight jog…”

“Wait–” he objects, grabbing your wrist just as you make it through the sliding doors. He looks you in the eye with a serious gaze, but the words struggle to come out.

For a second, neither of you make a move, blinking at each other in silence. Before either of you can come up with something to say, you’re suddenly distracted by the feeling of something cold hitting your shoulder. Using it as an escape from his heated gaze, you take your eyes off of him. Looking up to the sky, you hold your palm out to the falling water droplets.

Suddenly, you feel your other hand being pulled. Before you know it, you're moving away from the rain and your face is colliding with his warm chest, his scent filling your nostrils.

“You should've told me you were going out,” he murmurs, his chest rumbling beneath your burning cheeks.

Your heart is pounding out of your chest. Given his stature as an athlete, you expect his heartbeat to be slower. But, what you hear and feel beneath your ear seems to be thumping synchronously with yours–maybe even more rapid.

“Everyone was asleep…” you manage to respond, a little muffled as you try not to be obvious about the way you're burying yourself into him.

He, on the other hand, doesn't care about being conspicuous. He hugs you a little tighter. “Tell me next time.”

You bite your cheek, now letting yourself snuggle into him without shame. “Okay,” is all you can get yourself to whisper.

You stay like that for a little longer--which is a little strange to the cashier--but you don't care. Even if you wanted to move, the firm embrace he has around the small of your back wouldn't allow it. Eventually, though, you work up a bit more courage to pull back enough to look up at him and ask something.

“Hey, Abby… what’s in your pocket?” you ask with wide eyes. This whole time, you had been feeling something hard, long, and cylindrical in between the two of you.

“Oh,” he says. He takes an arm off of your back to slide it out. “You know, you should at least check the weather before you go out.”

It's a Saja Boys branded umbrella. What did you think it was?

He slowly lets go of you, grabbing your shopping bag and stepping into the outdoors to open the umbrella. Then, he looks back at you expectantly.

You smile. “Thank you,” you say, catching up with him.

As you begin to walk back in the direction of the dorm, you can't help but form another question: “Can I ask you something?”

He swallows nervously. “What is it?”

“If you knew it was going to rain… why did you go out on your ‘midnight jog’?” you ask.

He just smirks, looking down at you.

“That's my secret.”

💐 Romance had caught you on your way to the bathroom. You had stayed up watching make-up tutorials all night, which made you miss doing a proper face. You still wore makeup for performances and shoots and such, but it was mostly just contour and eyebrow pomade to make you look more manly. So, you decided to do a little pre-shower look before you went to bed.

It felt a little weird to get dolled up with no destination, but screw it. You even put on a cute little nightgown to match. You never thought you'd describe glitter eyeshadow and tinted lip gloss as “refreshing,” but it really did feel nice to look like a girl again. Who knew you would miss eyeliner and mascara so much?

Sitting at your vanity, you yawned with a stretch, already feeling your falsies come off--now that was something you didn't miss. So, you got up and began to tip-toe towards the bathroom.

You didn't expect anyone else to be up at this hour, so it scared you half to death when you saw a familiar head of pink hair emerge from the shared bathroom.

“Y/N?”

There shouldn't have been anything scary about your roommate in a T-Shirt and sweatpants, but you still had to cup your hand over your mouth to stop a scream from forming. Instinctively, you pull it back when you feel something sticky; the lip gloss formed a kiss mark on your palm. You feel your cheeks burn, suddenly realizing what you look like right now.

“Are you wearing makeup?” Romance asked curiously.

You stare down at your bunny slippers. “Um… yeah…” you admit sheepishly.

The nightgown itself was revealing enough, but somehow covering your face like this made you feel even more exposed. You prayed he wasn't seeing too clearly given that all the lights in the house were off.

Before you can take a step back, he switches on the bathroom light and grabs your wrist.

“Come to the light so I can see you,” he tells you calmly, the dim glow coming through the doorway illuminating his soft smile.

Reluctantly, you step forward as he pulls you into the bathroom. Taking your chin in his hand and tilting your face side to side, he observes you carefully.

“Pretty,” he comments. He steps back, taking in the sight of all of you. His eyes trace the lace adorning your collarbone. The heat of his stare makes your cheeks flush bright pink--no product needed. “You should wear lip gloss more often.”

You bite your lip again. “Oh, I…” You laugh nervously. “You know I can't.”

“You can do it for our next concept,” he suggested, referring to the softer direction the Saja Boys were going to take for your next album. “Tell the makeup artists.”

“Or,” he began, grabbing your chin and pulling your face impossibly closer to his, brushing his thumb over your lips. “You can borrow some from me.”

He has you pinned against the sink, your back against the counter. You stare up at him through your lashes, fluttering them innocently… until one of them falls off.

“I-I should probably take this off now…” you stutter.

You quickly turn around to face the mirror, trying not to look at him in your reflection. You try to keep your gaze downward, on the sink as you reach for your makeup wipes. But, as you do, you feel a hand instead of the plastic packaging.

He picks up the package and peels it open, the crinkling sound the only thing breaking the thick silence between you.

“Let me do it,” he instructs gently, grabbing your waist and spinning you around to face him. “Sit on the counter.”

You blink at him, the other eyelash falling off. “Oh… Um… Okay…”

You prop yourself up on the counter and allow him to slot himself between your legs. With the wipe in one hand, he tenderly holds your face in place with the other and begins to remove your makeup.

“Am I being too harsh?” he asks.

“N-no, that's ok…”

You sit in silence, staring at the floor and doing your best to focus on the cooling sensation. Every once in a while you look up, and each time he never fails to lock eyes with you. You hope he can't feel your face getting warmer through the wipe.

“What I said earlier…” he starts, slowing down over your lips. “You look good in any makeup.”

He tosses the wipe in the nearby wastebasket and returns, placing his palms on either side of you on the counter and leaning towards you. His gaze drops to your lips for a split second, and then back up to your eyes.

“Without it, too.”

He leans even closer, and once again, your faces are inches apart. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, the warmth of his breath. He seems to only be getting closer and closer so you let your eyes drift shut, leaning forward like its second nature, and then–

You feel something fuzzy slip over your head. You open your eyes. Around your neck is a fluffy pink headband with two red plush hearts on it like animal ears. He pushes it up, onto your head, tucking stray hairs behind his ear.

He puts on one of his own–just like yours but with inverted colors–and reaches behind you again.

“Should we do aloe?” he asks, re-emerging with two kinds of sheet masks: one green, and the other pink. “Or rose?”

You take a second to process what just happened. “Um… rose…”

He smiles. “Good choice.”

He rips the top of one of the packages and places it delicately on your face. Then, he does the same for himself, moving away from you to use the mirror.

You watch him beside you. Even through the glistening pink mask, you're desperate to find his eyes. As the two of you wait for the serums to settle into your skin, you don’t realize how hard you’re staring.

“Do I look funny?” he jokes when he catches your gaze.

For a second you take your mind off your pounding heart to laugh. “Y-yeah, a little.”

He chuckles, finding his way back between your legs. After discarding his mask, he slowly peels off yours, inch by inch, as if he’s received a present so precious he wants to cherish its unwrapping.

When he finally sees your face, bare in its truest form, he does all that he can to commit the image to memory. It’s funny, this is probably the part of you that he saw the most–whether it be in recording studios or dance rehearsals or songwriting sessions, you never had so much as a dab of powder on your nose. But somehow, you feel like he’s seeing you for the very first time, and he’s savoring it like it’s the last.

You feel yourself heating up again, so you try to break the silence. “Do… I look funny?” you ask, eyes darting back and forth between his.

He shakes his head with the lightest of laughs.

“You look beautiful.”

🍼 You knew Baby was awake--you could hear him tapping away intensely on his gaming keyboard from your room as you changed into your cami and shorts. He seemed very engrossed in whatever he was playing, shouting heated insults into the mic of his headset as you passed by his room. So, as you were standing in front of the fridge trying to enjoy the cold air wafting over you, it scared you half to death when you felt your tank top strap snap against your back.

You shriek and whip around.

“Hey,” he says casually, hooking the strap under his finger again and letting it smack your collarbone. “What’s up?”

“‘Hey’ yourself,” you mutter, rubbing the spot. “I'm up because someone can't keep it down when he's playing ranked.”

You turn back around to the fridge with a huff, but you notice that the last can of Saja Soda Pop™ is gone. “Hey! How did you–”

“Quick hands.”

You crane your neck to glare at him, but your eyes instinctively drop downwards at the sight of skin. He’s using the hem of his T-Shirt to clean off the top of the can, revealing his lower abdomen. Through his open zip up and beneath the waistband of his pajama pants, you can see the brand name of his boxers.

Trying to ignore the sight, you force your eyes back to his face and lunge towards him, but he’s two steps ahead, and about half a foot above you. He looks down at you with a smug expression as he holds it up, out of your reach. You get on your tippy toes and reach towards it, your chest beginning to press on his.

“Ugh!” You retreat and cross your arms, giving up with a pout. He cracks it open and throws it back without shame. One hand gives you the finger, and in the other, you see his stupid face plastered on the bright pink can: “Baby's Blue Raspberry”.

“Whatever… “ you mumble, attempting not to focus on the way his Adam's apple bobs with every gulp. “Romance's flavor is better anyway. ‘Lychee Love Potion’ outdoes yours by a longshot.”

He finishes drinking with a swallow and a deep exhale, his expression growing uncharacteristically serious. He looks you dead in the eye, unamused, as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He keeps that eye contact as, without a word, he holds the can to your lips.

Before you can protest, he tilts it, forcing you to drink as you stare up at him, wide eyed. When the can empties, he pulls it back and uses his thumb to wipe the corner of your lips.

He leaves you dumbfounded as he goes to toss the can in the recycling.

As he makes his way back, you're finally about to stutter something out–until you're interrupted by his scent suddenly overwhelming you.

“Don't dress like this around the house,” he instructs, draping his hoodie around your shoulders. “‘Specially not around Romance.”

Your jaw hangs open as he then takes his phone out of his pant pocket and begins heading out of the kitchen. You watch his back in awe as he types away on it, acting as if nothing happened.

He's already halfway up the stairs by the time you shake yourself out of it and call after him.

“It's hot out, you know…” you protest weakly, contradicting the way you're pulling the hoodie around yourself. You try to put some bite into your voice. “I'm gonna, like, die of a heat stroke and it'll be all your fault.”

He looks down at you again from above the stair railing, wearing that stupid smug face again.

“There's a fan in my room,” he states matter-of-factly, resuming his walk up the stairs.

“When you come return my hoodie,” he starts, “you can wear whatever you want in there.”

❓ Mystery’s always had a strong nose. His sight is constantly dampened by his signature hairstyle, and as a result, his other senses have become strengthened. So, the chemical scent was particularly unpleasant to him--enough so to get out of bed to investigate.

Following the harsh odor through the hallway, he found himself in front of your bedroom door. The main light wasn’t on, but enough of a glow seeped through the cracks of the closed door to indicate you were awake; a lamp, maybe. Wanting to confirm this theory, he raised his knuckle just under the pastel sticky note with your charming handwriting and followed its instructions: “Please knock! - Y/N”

He stepped back, anticipating a greeting. But, even after a few minutes, the only response that would break the silence was the occasional clink of glass from behind the door.

Now, he knew it was rude to come in. Especially at this hour, when you certainly weren’t expecting anyone, he considered. He also considered that you might not be decent. But, his curiosity got the best of him, and he figured he did technically follow the instructions the note had given him. So, he reached for the door handle.

He was met with the sight of you sitting criss-cross applesauce on your desk chair in an off-the-shouldee T-Shirt and shorts, elbows planted on the table, hands tasked with something he couldn't quite make out; the only lighting was a desk lamp–his theory was correct. What he could make out, though, was the thumping of the bass from your headphones. You hadn't noticed him yet, so he approached you, watching closely over your shoulder.

Your hands were trembling, your dominant one shaking a nail polish brush over the thumb of the other. You had your tongue peeking out and one eye shut, trying your hardest to guide the bristles above your cuticle.

Mystery took a small step back. So, that’s what it was. His one late night curiosity had been solved, and he should’ve been satisfied enough to go back to bed. But, in its place formed another: how long would it take you to notice him?

It looked like you had managed to make a shoddy swipe over your nail bed, which allowed you to start breathing again. Taking that as his window to approach you, he took a slow and quiet step forward. It was only when you went to dip the brush back into the bottle that you caught him out of the corner of your eye.

Well, it didn't register as him at first. It seems late night delirium, dim lighting, and Mystery’s hairstyle are not a good combination.

“Ah!”

You knock over the polish bottle as you flinch.

“Shit…” you mutter, frantically setting it right back up. You let out a sigh of relief--you caught it before it was able to spill.

After returning the brush to the bottle, you move to take your headphones off, but--out of consideration for your wet nails--it isn't easy to do with just your palms. You struggle, the plastic slipping against your sweat, until you feel another set of hands cover yours. They're warm and careful as they move your hands out of the way, and still equally as gentle when they remove your headphones and place them on the desk.

You bit your lip as he stepped away to pick up an ottoman from the opposite corner of the room and set it beside you. The seat is much shorter than yours, but given his usually impressive height, it only lowers him to eye-level with you. Perfectly aligned with the light emanating from your desk lamp, he is no longer whatever apparition or monster you were imagining before; his features are softer than ever as you’re now able to see his smile more closely than ever before.

He also takes advantage of this vicinity. Whatever hairs were messed up by your headphones he strokes back into place. Tucking the strays behind your ear, he reaches over you and grabs a hair clip from the flower-shaped dish on your desk. He takes the bow he picked out in both hands and tilts it back and forth in the light. Smiling in satisfaction, he has to control his excitement as he pins your bangs back.

All you can do is stare at him in awe, your lips parted.

“Mystery…” you whisper.

He waves back at you, as if to say, “That's me.”

“Why are you here? Did I wake you?” you ask worriedly.

He points to the nail polish, and then to his nose.

“Oh… I'm sorry…” You trail off sheepishly. You reach to scratch the back of your neck out of nervousness but quickly retract your hand, remembering the state it's in.

He just shakes his head with a smile. “It's okay.”

He holds his hand out to you. You blink at him in confusion.

“Give me your hand,” he says, softly but aloud nonetheless.

“O-oh,” you stutter, hesitantly doing as he says.

Just like with the bow, he tilts your hand back and forth and smiles to himself. The color you had chosen was a translucent pink; as the bottle advertised, “Your nails but better!™”

Wearing nail polish was nothing out of the ordinary for all of you--so much so that the marketing team had released your own line of “Saja Sparkling Nail Lacquer™” for the “Lovely lion claws™” of “the Pride™” . Right now, in fact, Mystery had on his very own shade of magenta, courtesy of the cosmetics team's nail tech.

He'd seen much more elaborate designs--and much neater designs--done on his own fingertips. So, on paper, he shouldn't be impressed by the shaky brushstrokes of a simple clear pink. But on your hand--on the soft hand he was holding and never wanted to let go–there was something endearing. It wasn't something you’d get at a salon--it was more like the result of a girl's sleepover or hours at a vanity before a date. That image in his mind alone meant more to him than all the years that lady had spent at beauty school.

Though he himself had no such certifications either, he reached for the cap of the nail polish bottle. Bringing your hand closer to him, he began to sweep the brush over each nail.

You watched in awe as, with all ten fingers, he dipped the brush in the liquid and smoothed it over your fingers meticulously, holding your hand close to his face. With every replenishing of the brush, he would back up a bit, but when he resumed painting, you could feel his breath on your knuckles.

You feel it even harder after he finishes, blowing gently on your nails. It probably isn’t doing much to dry them given how hot and humid it’s been lately, but, contrary to the cool air he lets out, it doesn’t fail to make your cheeks burn.

With a third, final exhalation, he retracts his hold. Without realizing it, you leave your hand hanging in the air, right where he’d left it. Your body seemed to know what your mind didn’t have the courage to say: you weren’t ready for him to go yet.

But then, just as quick as his touch had left, it returned as he slid his palm under yours and pushed it so your hands were upright, like a high-five. He couldn’t help but breathe out of his nose a brief chuckle at how your fingertips came up a full joint shorter than his.

You hoped he couldn’t feel the way you were trembling right now–prayed that he wasn’t grossed out by how clammy your hands were getting. But he didn’t seem to care, and you didn’t have any thoughts left to think, when, slowly, he curled his fingers until his hand engulfed yours.

You bit your lip. You could feel his pulse under your touch, calm and steady, and you were sure he could feel yours thumping at twice the pace. But, despite your nervousness, you let yourself copy him, slowly lowering your fingertips until they slotted perfectly in between his knuckles.

On the back of your hand, you saw his beautiful pianist-like fingers resting. His flawless manicure wasn’t even a millimeter overgrown–filed unfathomably symmetrical, cuticles pushed back out of sight, and surface perfectly glossy, the light reflecting without obstruction. Meanwhile, on the back of his hand, he saw that, even with his and your best efforts, there were stray splotches of pigment here and there on your skin. In some places–where the light hit your nail beds wrong–there were unblended brushstrokes.

There was no competition. It was clear which one he preferred.

He squeezed your hand playfully. “Do mine next time.”

✨ “Jinu… Jinu, wake up. You shouldn’t fall asleep on the couch, you old man.”

With his arm over the back of the couch and his knees spread open, he continued to snore–a sound so loud it rendered the TV in front of him inaudible. You sigh, wondering how Derpy and Susie were able to stay snuggled up against him on that throw pillow. Really, with the drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth, it was comical how un-Saja-like this was–save for the lion’s roar that escaped him with every exhale.

You shake his shoulder. “C’mon, Jinu. I don’t want to hear about your back problems in the morning.”

“Hrrrgghh, shhhh… Mmm… Huh… Huh…?”

You watch as he goes from snoring to murmuring to mumbling and then… shrieking.

“Ahh! Intruder! Intruder! Derpy, there’s an intruder!”

Desperately, he yanks on the poor tiger’s blue fur. Derpy wakes up, but doesn’t share the same urgency. He recognizes your scent, so he opens his glowing eyes halfway only to side-glare at Jinu before drifting back to sleep.

“Y/N…?” he finally realizes.

You don’t respond. You just sigh and cross your arms. Unintentionally, you push your breasts up a bit as you do. You don’t notice but, as he continues to register what he’s looking at, he definitely does.

“Wh… what are you wearing…” he trails off.

Quickly, he darts his eyes somewhere else–anywhere else. Your satin button up and shorts set isn’t really by any means indecent, but he feels his cheeks get hotter with guilt for every second he stares. He turns his face away, but let's face it–at any angle, he’s red as an apple.

“What? Four hundred years and you haven’t seen a PJ set?” you retort.

You put your hands on your hips and weight on one leg, striking a sassy pose. “You might be, like, a gajillion years old, but you’re not my dad. I’ll wear what I like, especially when it’s hot.”

“R-right,” he agrees, not realizing you were referring to the weather.

“What are you watching, anyway?” you ask, turning around to the screen. “Oh, wait! I know this show. This is a good episode…”

You start going on about characters… or something–he feels bad for not listening, he really does, but he can’t help it. He hasn’t the slightest clue of what you’re talking about; he fell asleep in the first ten minutes of watching. It’s an easy fix; if he really wanted to, he could look at the screen and find enough context clues to put together a response. But then, he’d have to take his eyes off the real show in front of him.

The dim glow of the TV lights you up from behind like you’re an angel greeting him at the gates of heaven–something he thought he’d never see. He follows the glow around the edge of your silhouette, slowing down from the hem of your shorts to your waistband. He’s really not trying to make it pervy, he swears, but he still burns with shame–though, the feeling is somehow different than the sharp purple patterns Gwi-Ma sends through him; it has quite the pleasant side to it.

When his eyes reach the back of your head, he decides that’s the most respectful place he can rest them. It’s not any less of a sight than the rest of you–your hair has grown out a bit ever since your DIY pixie cut, enough so for you to tie the teeniest little ponytail to try and beat the heat. As it sprouts from the colorful little scrunchie, it reminds him of a pointed paintbrush. But in this form, he thinks, you should be a framed painting.

He’s snapped out of his trance when he feels the weight of the couch shift; Derpy crawls off the couch with Susie on his back, meowing a farewell.

“Get a room,” he seems to say.

Frantically, before you’re able to turn around, Jinu grabs the cushion they were on and holds it over his lap.

“Good night, Derpy. Good night, Susie,” you say with a wave. You turn back to the couch, making eye contact with Jinu.

“Sorry. I’m blocking your view, huh?” You apologize nervously, your eyes taking refuge on the empty spot Derpy left. You plop down next to Jinu, his arm still around the back of the couch behind you. But while you keep your eyes on the screen, he keeps his eyes on you.

“Wow… what a beautiful dress,” you comment, pointing at the wedding scene before you. “I wish I could wear something like that…

“Me too,” Jinu whispers, watching the way your eyes light up when you see it, lined by lashes he never realized were so long.

He flinches backwards a bit when you turn to him with a smirk. “I don’t think they make those in your size,” you joke. “Not if you’re eating enough for you and Derpy and Susie,” you say, gesturing to the empty family-sized bag of Saja’s Mild Spicy Shrimp Chips™.

“Th-that’s not what I–” he stutters, hoping you didn’t catch onto his stare. “Ugh, just shut up and watch.”

He feels you vibrate through your touching knees and shoulders as you laugh. “Okay, okay,” you surrender.

The both of you return your gazes to the screen. Jinu has to employ every muscle and nerve in his body to keep his head facing straight ahead and his mind on the plot. But a few minutes later, just as he thinks he’s able to squeeze out that last thought of the flowy satin draping over you, his aforementioned nerves detect an unexpected weight and warmth on his shoulder.

He looks down and finds your cheek smushed up against his shoulder; his ears–their tips now pink–pick up the most hushed of snores drifting from your plush lips. He thanks the stars above that your eyes are shut–putting your soft lashes on full display now–because now you can’t see how he’s blushing even harder than before.

He instinctively lifts the arm resting behind you, but just before it reaches your shoulder to shake you awake, he stops it above your head. It’s as if his muscles have a mind of their own–he tells himself–as his hand slowly lowers to your hair and begins to stroke it gently.

He immediately tenses up when he feels you stir, freaking out briefly until you snuggle closer to his chest. He lets out a deep breath of relief, but takes in a few more; he needs to slow down his pounding heartbeat right now, or else you might wake up, he worries.

When it’s as steady as he can get it, he lets his lungs go on autopilot. But, even so, he’s suddenly very aware of his body. He knows he’s not a lion, and he knows he’s not a tiger or bird. But, tonight, he doesn’t feel like a demon. Somehow, he feels strangely human. And he’s suddenly aware that he’s a man, and you’re a woman. And you are much smaller than him.

He takes his hand off of your head for a moment to pull slightly at the back collar of your shirt. Before the satin slips between his fingers, he’s able to catch the size on the label.

He’s an old man, as you like to tease him, so he’ll probably forget by the time he wakes up. But still, he leans his head on you and lets his eyes drift shut without a worry.

He’ll remember, he promises–and he hopes you can somehow hear that promise telepathically when his head meets yours.

He’ll remember when he buys you that dress.

***

erm idk how to feel cuz i kinda like what i wrote but i also somehow feel like i didnt go in the right direction in terms of whats expected from the prompt?? idk also sorry jinu's and baby's aren't the most developed i just wanted to get this out cuz it was taking so longggg

jinu is my fav but i struggle to write him :(

but anyways im so excited this was my first req ever so ty ty ty anon i luv u guys im gonna try to work on the other req i have asap but plz b patient w me :') dont b afraid to send in more req tho tee hee

masterlist

tags (open ^o^): @hornehlittleweeblet2 @foxta1l @prettylittlelavvy @ch1cky-093 @thoughtsfrom1985 @feelya @doodle-with-rhy @fries11 @katzline @iivantablackii

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mwphisto · 2 days ago

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LaDs: How they’d propose

~ just some fluffy head canons!

~ all love interests included, reader’s gender not specified

A note from Soul: my friend just got engaged the other day and now I’m in the mood to brain storm how the lads men would do it! Gotta love fictional men because I can mold them however I want (jk) lol - I started drafting this before the wedding banner was announced so I'm not really going off of anything seen in the trailer!!

Xavier

He and Jeremiah spent months preparing this.

The back of Philos has been perfectly prepared for Xavier's grand proposal idea. He and Jeremiah had tediously grown and tended to some of your favorite plants for what felt like forever. Treating them as if they were real babies, nurturing them with only the best soil, water, and daily sunlight.

Now, they were all in glorious full bloom. The greenhouse smelt of the prettiest florals, decked out in warm fairy lights, and a table for two with a white table cloth and fancy dinnerware was set up in the middle of it all. It was perfect, exactly what Xavier had envisioned.

"Woah, Xavier..." you had been starstruck the moment he guided you back there. Your eyes twinkling as you took in all the flowers, the decorations, the soft melody playing from a speaker hidden somewhere among all of this. It was breathtaking.

"You did all of this for me?" Mentally, you were trying to recall if you had forgotten an anniversary or an important date. but you came up empty handed. "Yeah, with Jeremiah's help of course, but the ideas were all mine." There is a light blush on his face, the hand holding yours squeezes suddenly and you can't help but feel nervous.

"What's the special occasion?" You two stop right before the table, and Xavier turns to you, pulling your other hand into his and bringing both to his lips. "Do I need a special occasion to shower you in love?" Of course he didn't, but this felt so... special.

"I love you, my little star. More than you would ever be able to comprehend." He starts slowly, eyes lingering on your hands before traveling to your face. Your heart is pounding in your ears, you can feel the anticipation radiating off of his body.

"I cannot fathom spending another day without you by my side. I don't dare to dream of a future that doesn't have you in it. I don't want to wake up to bed without you snuggled beside me." And your heart jumps into your throat as Xavier slowly gets down on one knee.

"My starlight, my universe. I love you so much it hurts. Would you do me the gracious honor of being my wife?"

Your vision is blurred with tears, so blurred that the ring he presents you is nothing more than a sparkling blob in his grasp. You're nodding before the words can leave you, a babble of "yes" and "of course" and about ten million "I love you too"

Zayne

He didn't tell a soul what he was going to do, he had only told his parents of his intent to propose to you.

A week long trip to the Arctic in the middle of a grueling summer. A rented cabin just for the two of you, and a well thought out itinerary so you can see the aurora each night. It would be at its strongest, brightest, and most vibrant on your first night. That's when he'd do it.

"It should start any minute, right?" Your eyes were full of child-like wonder, staring excitedly up at the stars in the night sky. "Yes, any minute now." Zayne was a bundle of nerves, surprising himself when his voice came out steady and unwavering.

You two had just finished eating dinner. A comfort meal you prepped together in the cabin's kitchen. Sharing some wine, light music playing on an antique record player, the fireplace a blazing warmth. It had been so perfect, so cozy, that Zayne nearly popped the question as you two ate. But he held off, he had a vision in mind.

He sat back against the cushions, watching his breath puff out in front of him as you excitedly stood at the railings of the cabin porch. Your head unmoving in its upward tilt towards the cosmos.

The moment the aurora made itself known, Zayne would get down on one knee and pop the question that he's been dying to ask. The custom ring he designed sitting safely in a velvet box, just inside of his pant pocket, his fingers a little clammy as they held it.

Then he heard it, your gasp of wonder as the skies filled with greens and blues and even touches of purple. "Zayne! The aurora!"

You were bouncing on your heels, pointing as if he couldn't see the image filling the sky, and whirled around with a smile on your face. Except, Zayne wasn't sitting on the couch anymore. Your smile faltered - but not in a bad way - no, it turned into a look of awe.

Zayne's ears were red, his cheeks flushed all soft and rosy as he presented himself on one knee, a dazzlingly ring sitting in a navy blue velvet box just inches from you. "I had a whole speech written in my head, and now I'm finding that I've lost all my words..." He laughs a little before glancing down at your hands.

"You know me well enough to know I have never been great with expressing myself through words. But for something as special as this, I have been giving it my best practice for months to make it worth while." You can feel your throat tighten, staring at him in the same way you had stared at the aurora.

"I can't imagine going on with my life without you by my side. You have turned my dreary world into one full of color and wonder." He takes your hand, and you realize it is trembling just as badly as your own. "Meeting you changed the entire trajectory of my life. Meeting you gave me purpose, and I never thought I’d get so lucky.”

"Would you do me the greatest honor of spending the rest of your life with me?" And you can barely get the "yes" past your lips before you're falling into his arms and hugging him like he'd disappear if you didn't. "I love you so much." It's a gentle whisper as he takes your hand, slipping ring onto your finger.

Rafayel

Only Thomas and Talia knew vaguely of what Rafayel planned. For once, Thomas restrained himself with pushing deadlines - not that Raf would have cared either way. He appreciated the sentiment.

His goal was for you to be completely surprised, to not suspect a thing. So, he didn't plan anything grand leading up to the actual event. He just did things that you two loved doing together. Dinner at your favorite restaurant - the same one you had your first real date at. Then, the little desert shop just down the road for ice cream.

Only when you arrived back at Mo Art Studio did your suspicions raise. "What do you think?" The sun was setting, bouncing off of the ocean water and creative a pretty spectacle across all the art that Rafayel displayed for you to see. "Rafayel..."

You had a million and one questions on the tip of your tongue, eyes glossing over as you jumped from piece to piece. Each one was so distinctly you. Some detailed portraits, others abstract, some of just you, some with the both of you, you couldn't breathe.

Rafayel stood by the entrance and watched, watched as you circled each piece with bated breath. "Rafayel when in the world did you have the time for all of this?" You spun to look at him, noticing the smile on his lips as he unfolded his arms and pushed off the doorway. "Every time we were apart, every time I missed you, I got to work."

He took your hand in his, squeezing it gently before lifting it to his lips. "Painting, sketching, sculpting you, us, it helped the loneliness be a little more bearable." Only then did you notice the lit candles, the ambiance accompanied by waves crashing on the shore. The ocean breeze cascading through the open windows. Rafayel had used his evol to light the candles, they wouldn't do any harm.

"Speaking of loneliness." His throat cleared, drawing your attention back to his face. "I don't like being alone. I don't like waiting, either." And then? You were gasping, eyes wide as dinner plates as Rafayel got on one knee before you. "I intended on doing this down by the water, with the sunset as our backdrop. But now, right here in this moment, seems like the best time to ask you this."

"You have renewed my life with the most vibrant color palette. Not a day goes by that you don't bring a smile to my face." His hand is trembling as it squeezes yours, his other fishing for something in his suit jacket's pocket. "I never want to lose that vibrancy, nor the joy that you have colored my days with."

He pulls out a box, flicking it open with his thumb to present you with the most stunning ring you'd ever laid your eyes on.

"My beloved, my heart, my entire world... will you marry me?"

You're choking on a sob, "Of course I will, Raf. Yes." He can barely the slide the ring onto your finger before you're pulling him up and into your arms, crashing your lips together as tears leak down your cheeks. It's only when you part that you realize he is crying too.

Sylus

He didn't trust anyone with this information. Not even the twins.

Coming from him, you'd expect something larger than life. But, instead, Sylus had a much more intimate idea in mind. "Why won't you tell me where we're going?" But you're giggling, playing with the rings on his fingers as his private jet cruises the sky. "Because it will ruin the anticipation. You know how much I love seeing you squirm."

The destination was a sprawling flower field. The kind you'd never find in the N109 Zone, and one that would be a lot less grand a much more artificial in Linkon. He'd seen so many pictures of this place, and not a single one did it justice. Just as he had suspected, which is why he flew the two of you all the way out here.

"Oh my god, Sylus! It's gorgeous!" You were entranced, turning on your heels to stare at him with wide, glittering eyes. The sun was making its lazy decent, casting the field in a warm orange glow. The breeze was warm, rustling the flowers - which were as far as your eyes could see, disappearing into the distance.

"I knew you'd love it." With the rental bike parked and your helmets secured, Sylus entwined his fingers with yours. "A picnic?" You looked at the old-fashioned wicker basket hooked on his arm, a lopsided grin gracing his lips. "Yes, c'mon let's go."

He guided you through the rows of flowers, chuckling softly as dragonflies and bumblebees dances around the blossoms, making you jump and cling to him a little tighter. "Don't worry, there won't be this many where we are heading." And the destination in mind was one of the large trees spread out among the flower field.

By the time you got there and set up the picnic, the sun was ready to disappear beyond the horizon. As if on queue, fireflies began popping up among the flowers. The sight was mesmerizing, and the conversation flowed easily between the two of you. "So, are you going to tell me what the occasion is?" You brought a napkin to your lips, dabbing the strawberry juice - that Sylus desired to kiss - off.

"I wanted to make this as grand for you as possible, but in a way that it was still only you and me." He starts carefully, crimson eyes boring into your soul as you give him your full attention.

"I adore you, more than words can possibly convey. The love I feel for you is so strong it knocks the wind out of me sometimes." And he shifts, moving from his lounging position to one knee. And you swear the entire world begins to spin as he pulls a maroon leather box from his pant pocket. "You are the other half of my soul."

"Sylus-" but it's carried away on the wind, that same lopsided smile on his face as he lets you process before continuing.

"I want to keep building my life with you, I don't want to keep going on without you bound to me for the rest of eternity. Just as I am forever bound to you. I would be the happiest man alive if you promised to stay with me as my wife, until we both cease to exist."

You're nodding, eyes glossing over as stray tears leak down your cheeks. "Yes, Sylus. I'd want nothing more than to be your wife." And you can barely breathe as his trembling hand slides the ring onto your finger. Your knuckles graced by the warmth of his lips.

The soft whispering promise of "I love you, more than anything."

Caleb

Not a soul knows of his intentions, and he feels its better that way.

Everything was planned meticulously, you just had to come along. Caleb had set up an entire mental itinerary of everywhere he'd be taking you. The last stop being Skyhaven, aboard his personal aircraft. Then, he'd pop the question.

"Last stop on our adventure, pips. Almost there." He's smiling at you, noting the slightly tired look in your eyes as you stare mesmerized out the window of his aircraft. "We did so much today! How are you not tired yet?" But even as you spoke, your eyes were widening at the sight of cotton candy clouds. The sun had just set only moments prior, the last few rays gracing the world until morning.

"I could never be tired if I'm spending my time with you." And he could hear your eyes rolling without you having to say a word never mind look at him. "Trust me, pips. This last stop is worth it." But you could only chuckle. "I must be missing some sort of anniversary. How come we've done so many special things today?"

"I just enjoy doing things with you, isn't that a good enough reason?" But you could always see right through him. Yet, for some reason, something in the back of your mind told you to stop pressing and just let things be. "It is, I suppose. I like doing things with you too."

Luckily, your last stop was Caleb's backyard. He had set it up before leaving to get you in Linkon earlier that day. Blankets and pillows set up in the grass, lights adorning the large apple tree that resided in his yard, music playing softly thanks to Otto, and lastly two glasses and a bottle of wine. It was intimate, meaningful, and you could both crash right after. Because with all the tension in his body, he knew he'd be lucky if he didn't pass out after hearing you answer.

"There is a meteor shower tonight, I figured we could watch it together." Warmth filled your chest, a smile spreading from ear to ear as you took his hand and dragged him towards his own set up.

"I totally forgot about that, Caleb! This is perfect." The ring was already grasped in his other hand, letting you sit down first before getting on one knee. The look only your face was utterly priceless, worth every ounce of stress it took for him to get his timing right.

"I've beens struggling for over a year now to figure out what to say to you when I finally did this." And the ring was presented to you, no box, just between his fingers, and it was as if he held the whole world right there instead. "And even now, I still don't have a clue how to put everything you are to me into words."

"Though, I'm sure you know very well by now that you are my everything. You've always been my everything, since we were kids." The first meteor is streaking through the sky, but nothing can draw your attention from him. "I want you to stay with me, and I promise you that I will never leave you alone ever again."

Your throat is tightening, eyes brimming with tears as you're nodding before he even says the words. "Will you marry me? It would be my greatest achievement in life to be your husband." And your answer leaves your lips like a never ending prayer. Yes after yes, I love you after I love you. The ring is slid onto your finger, and you've never felt more whole in your entire life.

"I love you, with every fiber of my being, Caleb."

Hope you enjoyed!! - Soul

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thehatboxwitch · 2 days ago

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to anon 1: i can't believe i made your whole day, that's high praise 🥹 i'm so glad you enjoyed! to anon 2: i'm really happy that people out there are enjoying my phai characterisation because i will be so frank i haven't played the latest update :" fem!reader, TW // nsfw.

mydei

phainon hauls you up easily by your thighs, his cock buried inside you, your back against his chest. your face is flushed to high heavens, not because of the temperature of the room, but the pair of yellow lion's eyes fixed on your face.

you whimper wordlessly, nails scraping uselessly at phainon's arms as he thrusts into you for the millionth time that night, melting you into another puddle of nerves and messy fluids. you're cumming in no time - and another surge catches you off guard before your first one can fully die down, your voice hoarse as mydei leans forward and laps up the arousal you spray everywhere, suckling on your clit and letting you ride out your high.

anaxagoras

"maybe professor anaxa will have something more to teach me," was what phainon had said to you, trying to convince you to agree to his grand plan.

currently, with your mouth stuffed full of the professor's dick, and phainon filling you up from the back, it didn't seem like he needed much more teaching. in fact, it was probably you who needed it the most, seeing as your eyes filled with tears every time he rolled his hips up into your mouth, nudging against the back of your throat.

you mumble helplessly around him in pleasure as phainon slides in and out slowly. anaxa cups your face, guiding you up and down, slipping his dick a little deeper into your throat each time, trying to coax you into taking him fully.

aglaea

you can barely breathe, but you can't really tell if it's the weight of phainon bearing down on you - or aglaea's misty green eyes pinning you in place.

tiny gasps escape you as phainon grinds his tip against your cervix. your back is arched as far as it'll go, pressing you into him, but also pushing you into aglaea's deft, soft fingers, rolling your nipple, pinching and twisting until you're thrashing against phainon. she seems to know exactly where to touch where it feels best; probably because she does, what with her golden threads and all.

a hatbox summer event | discord server (18+) if you enjoy my work, reblogs help the most! ⭐️

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jupiterpiss · 3 days ago

Note

remmick being a prone bone enjoyer is a sentiment that just feels very real and canon to me. The intimacy, vulnerability, and closeness of it all would make him go crazy

AHHH AHHHH AHHH

*the nurses take me back into the hospital*

Listen.. he would. Ugh. He so would AHH AHHH okay.

Warnings! Smut duh u stupid motherfucker(i love all of u im gonna eat all of u). FEM READER RAHHHH. Cozy again idk man i cant stop. Im for Remmick suffering matter of fact.. he should, BUT he’s treated nicely here guys. So. Uhh he smacks her ass a shit ton.. hand holding AGAIN I love it.. andddd thats all I think. Weird ending.. idk I had no clue how to end this LMAOO. Not proof read AT ALL. Okay.. a little.

The air is cold against your feet. There’s a soft breeze that tumbles through your open window, nipping against your toes. Licks its way across your calves, and between the open space of your thighs. The same place that holds a slick heat, the only place on you that is actually warm anymore.

You would be more concerned of potentially cramping if you weren’t preoccupied with the body on top of you.

The one that isn’t any warmer than the breeze, matter of fact, it’s colder. Forces goosebumps all over your skin, the kind of coldness that makes you shiver violently, teeth rattling around in your closed mouth.

However, each time you try to close your mouth, get rid of that chatter in your teeth, another moan is ripped out your throat. Slips itself across your esophagus, past your uvula and straight between your teeth.

Then, back to chattering.

Chatter chatter chatter

You feel him before he speaks, the way his stubble brushes against your jaw, cold flesh pressed against you, sucks all the warmth away.

“You cold?”

You nod, “you’re not the warmest person around.”

Remmick laughs, something genuine. It isn’t loud nor obnoxious, it even cracks mid way through. Cut off by a groan of his own, his arms flexing as he gives another hard thrust.

“Wouldn’t be a problem-“ another thrust, this time both of you groan, “if you just let,” another one, “save you.”

He rests his head against the space between your shoulder blades, breath heavy and almost warm against you.

You give a small sneer that he can’t see, but hears, which earns you a smack on the ass. Not that it actually swerves you away from breathing out a small, “ow— shut up.”

Neither of you follow up with anything after that, far too busy with trying to chase your respective releases to really give a shit if you're cold or not. Not that it ever matters, you’ll let him in either way, have been for about a year now.

But it’s definitely a down side, no one could really relate to either. How often is it that a person is sleeping with a cold bloodthirsty monster? Maybe two.

But the price of warmth was one you were willing to give up within a heartbeat. Did give up, because how he holds you— cradles you in his arms, stomach pressed against your spine, his forearm purposefully rested under your head, hand placed against your hip to slide you back and forth against his dick. He practically caged you underneath him, a desperate way to keep you near.. to give comfort. Not warmth, but he could give something else.

Pleasure to distract from how cold he is, how he’ll never feel heat brewing underneath his bones, never be able to warm you. Distracts by using his weight to sink you further into the bed, the only part sticking up is your hips and ass, prompted up by the pillow under your pelvis. Distracts you from the lack of a thump in his chest by angling his hips just right, pounding down into you.

Forces your heart to spike and pound for the both of you. Can’t comfort with heat, but can with his mouth. Speaks pure filth and praise, spurs you on.

“Gonna‘ take this dick? Huh? Gonna’ take this dick-“

“Ever sleep with anyone else- jesu- they’ll fuckin know I’ve been in er’. Know this pussy needs som- fuck- something bigger.”

He talks. A lot. More than any other man you’ve been with. Usually, there’s the occasional grunt and praise, small, “yeah, yeah,” or, “right there.”

That’s about it. But Remmick? Doesn’t shut the fuck up. Basically has full blown one sided conversations with you, about anything and everything. It’s like he has to tell you how you’re making him feel, how tight you are, how well you make him fit.

How well you two belong. Shaped around each other, perfectly cut out. From the ridge of your spine to the curve on his jaw. He swears up and down that you were born to be together. Went as far to go on a whole tangent about it mid way through back shots, his hips pistoning against you while you could only give lazy nods in return.

Not that you never heard him out. At first, you were on the fence about how true that is. Realistically, he was supposed to be dead far before you were even thought of, and you highly doubt the Gods meant for this to happen.

But when he pulls you close, like now, with his arms locked around your figure, his hips rolling against you and sniffing at your hair— you think some of it rings true.

You two fit somewhat well. Not perfect, but well.

“Ain’t anyone else gonna take ya now.. look at ya, look,” he shifts again, prompts himself back to rest on his knees that lie on either side of your thighs.

Sits back to watch how you press yourself against him, desperately seeking out his cock. Trying to thrust up, your ass jiggling each time. He coos at your sad attempt, lands another smack on your ass while grinning, “fuckin slut, huh.”

You can only whine in return, another desperate thrust. But it doesn’t hit as deep, doesn’t punch him far into you. Not like when he does it. Frustration starts brewing between your teeth, numbing your gums. Forces you to call out to him

“Remmick!”

He lands another smack, “yeah, baby.”

“Fuckin-! Do something lazy ass!”

His mouth opens slightly, brows furrowing creating that little divet between his brows, the one you tend to kiss away whenever you annoy him. Not that you can now, can’t even see it now given how he shoves your face down into the bed.

It’s a look of offence, one you always push for.

He gets rougher that way.

“Lazy ass?” He presses himself back against your back, squishes you down under him to the point it almost hurts.

It becomes slightly harder to breath, given his added weight and the comforter not giving you any grace. Don’t have long to focus on that though, because he thrusts. Hard.

Hits deep, right against that spongy bit no one else can really hit. You squeal, feeling kicking up, knocking against the back of his thighs.

He gives a small huff and slips all the way out, leaving you empty. Watches as you clench around nothing, quivering for something he can only provide.

“Shit.. ain’t that something?” He whistles low.

You whine again, “Remmick-“

He shakes his head, adjusting himself again onto his knees. Doesn’t wait to land both hands onto your ass with a loud smack, “wait yer’ fuckin turn.”

You stay quiet, unsure of what he meant, whatever the fuck ‘waiting your turn‘ meant. But you feel something wet drip onto your heat, followed by his thumb slipping into your cunt. He rubs his saliva into you, hums at the small sigh you give with being filled just a little. Even goes to use the same thumb to slip from your hole to your neglected clit.

Gives the small bundle of nerves a small tap that makes your shoulder twitch, left foot flinching. He watches as you try to grind yourself against his thumb, which he doesn’t oppose. Instead, he places his free hand against the curve of your spiner, keeping you in place.

“Go on. Get what you need.”

His fingers tap against your spine, small goosebumps forming there as well. You shake your head, “want you inside.”

He clicks his tongue, “well you got my thumb right now. Go on.”

Another rumble of frustration passes over you, stops that chatter in your teeth and makes a small huff leave you. A sound he ignores while he patiently waits for you to start grinding against him again.

“Said I don’t do shit— go head. Show me what you can do.”

You huff again, “I didn’t fuckin— I didn’t mean that. Just- please? Please.”

“Now yer apologizing, now I ain’t doin nothin?”

“I didn’t mean it! Please-“

He shifts for the final time, places his complete weight back on you while simultaneously shoving his dick back inside.

“So fuckin indecisive,” and he fulls shelves himself inside, hitting right back against that sweet spot, choking you on your own moan.

“Rem-!”

He places a hand over your mouth, “shut it, said enuff’ for now.”

Not that you were going to say much, not with the way he keeps tapping against your g spot to the point of tears. Ones you manage to hold back, but hardly given how out of it you are.

Despite the roughness of his thrusts, making sure each time his balls slap against your clit, and his hand fully covering your mouth with his pinky just under your nostrils— he still praises you. Mouth pressed against your shoulder, muffled broken sentences of how good you're taking it. Whimpers against your flesh and reaches out for one of your hands, pats you on your left wrist twice when you don’t give one up.

You only do it when he moans for your hand, making you break your hold onto the bed sheets and interlock with his own. He squeezes it, hard, as if trying to ground himself.

Trying to get closer to you even when he’s tucked into your heat.

It’s not long before you can feel that tug of your orgasm creeping on you about to shove you over, the wet squelches of your cunt sucking him in again and again. He presses a kiss against your hair.

Then another against your cheek, and another against your ear.

He mutters, “Gonna’ cum?” And you can only nod.

Remmick tries to coax it out of you with soft mutters and whimpers, his legs becoming shaky and his nose knocking against your head with each thrust.

With his hand, he slowly turns your head to face him on your right, eyes immediately searching for yours. He gives another low groan when you stare up at him through your lashes, the sight of you damn near making him cum.

He’s always had a problem with seeking out your eyes when you two came. Always needs to look into your eyes, needs to see your face as you squirm underneath him. He does it as a way to plant you further into his mind, to burrow you deep in his memories for nights when he can’t have you.

He needs you to ruin him for everyone else.

“Fuck.. I’m gonna’ cum.” He breathes out, eyes slowly washing into a vibrant red, “Gonna cum so deep, feel me for weeks. Gonna smell me on ya—“ he’s cut off by his own moan, dick twitching at his own imagination.

You two are so close to each other your nose’s almost nudge, breathing in each other’s scents and swallowing each other’s moans. His thrusts are no longer persistent or precise, grown to be lazy and not his usual frantic pace before he cums. He takes it slower, a means to enjoy it, to let this moment mingle around you two. Lets the quiet whimpers, moans and groans speak for themselves— the pleasure he brings to comfort, the intimacy of breathing in each breath you release just so he could have another part of you.

It allowed his obsession with you to run rampant, allowed him to be close and breath in all of you without being shoved away.

Allows him to gawk at you like you're worth everything and more in this long lifetime of his.

“Cum baby,” he mutters, “cum for me, cum, cum.”

You give a slow blink, hardly able to focus when you can feel yourself just right there. On that edge. Just need—

As if he could read your mind, he removes his hand off your jaw and goes to slip it underneath you two, where he uses the collective wetness from between your thighs to give another rub to your clit.

His hand is squished between the pillow and your skin, but he doesn’t seem to mind one bit, doesn’t even stop him in any way.

He feels you tense, your grip on his hand tightening as your feet kick up against him again. He gives quick circles around the nerves, pace faster then the one he’s fucking you in.

And it completely destroys you. Rips you clean off the cliff and straight down to the abyss. Your body tenses to the point of almost cramping, and your stomach does a complete 360. It plummets you straight down, eyes rolling back as you slowly place your head back onto the bed.

You give a long whine, cursed coming out shaky and broken, legs shaking under his. And that sight alone, to see you fall apart completely, reduced to a whimpering mess shoves him straight over as well.

He hides his face in your neck, tucked away between the crook of your shoulder and jaw. His moans are only slightly muffled but you can still hear him call out your name, several times. Jumbled between curses in English and Gaelic, he calls your name, whispers it like something holy.

It’s then, between his slurred speech that you feel the press of teeth. Fangs, to be exact. Bones that lightly graze your skin but don’t penetrate. It isn’t a warning of any sort, just a simple habit. The pleasure is so intense, it forces them fully out, ripping through gums and shifting human teeth for something monstrous.

You don’t dwell on the lack of a bite for long. Don’t need to when you feel the warmth of his cum deep in your cunt, plugging you full of himself. Even with you being so full he continues jerking in and out, cum slipping out every time he moves out letting it drip onto the sheets.

He shakes on top of you, body no longer having the ability to not crush you, fully laying all his weight down.

This time, you make your discomfort heard, “ow- you're crushing me.” It’s more or less muffled to shit by the comforter, but he catches some of your words.

but he doesn’t move. Just nuzzles closer.

“Remmick-“

“A second. Let me breathe in you.”

He takes a long inhale, nose pressed against the skin of your neck. You think back to his fangs but your tongue remains tight against the roof of your mouth, tell yourself to give him a second. To just enjoy it, don’t remind him of what he already grieves over.

You take a deep breath and give a strong squeeze to his hand.

He exhales, deep and long, as if your added comfort of a squeeze on the hand was enough to coax him out the moment. To let it slip away.

Not that his dick got the memo, apparently.

There, still wrapped in the slick of your folds and tucked deep in your womb, he remains hard.

Stupid fucking vampire stamina.

#idk what to tell ya #remmick #Remmick smut #Remmick x reader #remmick x female reader #remmick x you

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kamospeach · 2 days ago

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(any pics without tags are bc i didn't know who they belonged to!)

plot: sukuna gets injured, good thing you're always there to help

content warning: sukuna himself is a warning, mechanic + boxer sukuna, because they're the same in my head

dean's (aka peachy) yap: broke mechanic rising boxer sukuna makes so much sense to me also makes more sense after watch Isi and Ossi on Netflix.

days like these were rare. it was so rare that when it happened, nobody knew what to do. it started like every other friday night. sukuna was warming up in the ring for his fight in the next hour and a half. you sat on the stool, legs crossed, watching his fluid movements.

“you'd better not mess up his face!” you yelled to the other boxer he was practicing with. one thing about sukuna, he hated to get hurt because when he did, you were at his beck and call. he hated being waited on, especially by you. you were overprotective and wouldn’t let him step outside if injured.

“please, he couldn’t even land a hit on me even if he tried! no one could.” but he was wrong, terribly wrong. because that’s how he ended up sitting on the nurse's bed as you stood between his legs, patching up the long scar under his eye.

“so tell me what happened, ryomen,” you tell him, and he smirks, looking down at your frustrated state. he loved the way your brows furrowed when you took care of him.

“was fightin’, you were there, you saw it.” he huffed, and you gave him a look that said ‘you know what i mean’. “fine. i took my eyes off of him for a second.”

“ryomen.” you gave him a look to explain further. it was like sukuna to tell half the story to avoid being scolded. “if you tell me what really happened, i’ll have your back when you talk to coach yaga,” you offered, and apparently, he was a fan of that deal.

“i was tryna make sure someone was watchin’, that’s all.” he shrugged as if that was nothing. he knows better than to be looking at the crowd when he’s fighting. “she was looking, so that’s all that mattered.”

“no, it’s not, you’re hurt, sukuna, that’s what matters,” you said, walking over to the ice bin to fill a bag of ice for him. he stood behind you a little closer than usual, but you didn’t even notice.

“it’s fine if i get hurt, you’ll be there to take care of me,” he said, and it almost sounded like his voice was softer, maybe even caring. yet you didn’t notice that either, but sukuna sure did and cleared his throat to hide the embarrassment. “at least you better be, since this is your job and it’s what you're getting paid for.” his voice was back, monotone and demanding.

“not by you, by the school, so you better watch that tone of yours,” you playfully said back, and it surprised sukuna how you heard the bad attitude in his voice, but never the times when he got ‘soft’. he grabbed your chin, squeezing your cheeks, making your kissable lips form into a pout.

“you’re getting too bold, brat,” he said, and you rolled your eyes at his nickname for you, that he never retired even after 4 years. you placed the bag of ice on his scar, which was slowly starting to swell.

“what girl were you looking for?” you asked, cleaning up the athletic room while sukuna followed you around like a lost puppy.

“someone,” he cleared his throat, and you snorted at him, trying to be secretive. “wanted to make sure she saw me knock him out.”

“and then you didn’t. tell her to come to the next fight,” you tell him as you pack your bag, getting ready for the night. he was silent; you paid it no mind since he was usually quiet anyway.

“she’ll be there, she comes to all of them,” he tells you. you nod, picking up your bag, and sukuna grabs it out of your hand, slinging it over his shoulder. you locked up the door as the two of you walked to his car. he usually took you home on days he had fights, so this was routine.

“you workin’ tomorrow?” you asked, and he nodded, sighing, opening the passenger door for you and going to the driver's side.

“‘course i’m working, money don’t grow on trees,” he says clearly, not looking forward to going to work. “can’t wait til i go pro, i won’t have to worry about working on rich asshole’s car.”

“but then you won’t be able to fix my car,” you pout, and he looked at you with a lopsided smile. whenever he gave you that smile, it almost made you see him in a different light. you loved his smile, it was like a rainbow: you don't get to see it often, but when you do, you appreciate it deeply.

“i’d still fix your car after i go pro, ma,” he said, and you scoffed, not believing a word he was saying.

“you’ll be too busy for me then, you probably won’t even remember me,” you say, and it hits you that he may not want to be bothered with you. you would call sukuna one of your best friends or even your best friend. he was one of the first people you met in your freshman year, so he meant a lot to you.

you both spent a lot of time together outside of practices and matches. you’d frequently visit him at work, sitting in his manager’s office. who just so happened to be the father of a mutual friend of sukuna and yours. or you’d spent time in his dorm watching his film, even helping him notice where he went wrong.

sukuna had become a big person in your everyday life. after classes, you’d be sitting next to the ring, patching up his cut knuckles when he was done. and hopping in his car after so the two of you could get dinner and go home. it was a simple routine, but it was all you knew.

“won’t remember you? every time i get hurt, all i’ll think about is you.” he scoffed, offended that you thought you meant so little to him. “shit i might even hire you.”

“what?!” you said, shocked, and he parked the car, turning to look at you.

“you’d like that, huh? getting to fix me up even after college.” you looked at sukuna, and you weren’t even sure what you were feeling. you almost felt as if you liked him, but you knew that wasn’t possible. maybe it was just joy that he appreciated you that much.

“‘course i would, i’d get to yell at you for getting hurt forever.” you smile, grabbing your things to leave the car. “i’ll bring you lunch tomorrow after i go see my parents. i asked them to make extra for you and your coworkers.”

“tell your fine ass mom i said-” you cut him off by slamming the door shut and he rolled down the window laughing at your disgusted expression.

“good night, sukuna! i won’t be telling her nothin’,” you said, walking to the front door of your apartment.

⁺₊⋆ 𖤓 ⋆⁺₊

“you going to see sukuna after you leave here?” your mother asked as you got in the car. she knew where you were going; she just wanted a reason to say that you and sukuna should go together.

“to drop this food off, yes, he’s been working since 6 am.” you say as a smirk spreads across her face, ready to taunt you about it.

“you know, the two of you should date. he cares about you, and you must care about him too since you invited us to his championship fight.” she smirks, and you chuckle at the predictability of your mother.

“no thanks, ryomen’s mean and angry all the time. i can’t take that,” you said truthfully, sometimes his mean and brooding attitude scared you.

sure, he was a great-looking guy, and he was built like a greek god. and just maybe he was really good at fighting, and he always stood up for you. and he always took you home, and he never let anyone touch him except you. and maybe he never made you drive anywhere if he was going too.

“maybe that’ll be good for you so you can stop being a pushover,” your mom said with a shrug, snapping you out of your thoughts. she started walking towards the house, turning around to say one last thing. “your dad likes him, too! but anyway, see you soon!” she gave her usual smug smile, knowing your dad was trying to marry you off.

you laughed driving to the car shop where sukuna worked. your parents weren’t fond of any man you brought around. they always compared them to sukuna since when he came he was a big suck up.

he offered to help your dad fix his old school car, and cleaned all the dishes by himself once dinner was done. refusing to let your mom touch a thing, had you been at your apartment, he’d make you do it all alone.

not to mention, one time in his dorm, he instructed you to grab him a beer. of course, you told him no, and he went and got it himself. sukuna wasn’t the sweetheart your parents thought he was, and you knew that better than anyone else.

“finally, you’re here, woman,” he huffed, opening your car door and leaning on it. because your mom used her voodoo magic on you (not really), you’re currently finding him oddly attractive. not a lot, just a little, because he’s all roughed up and sweaty and manly looking.

his hair was disheveled, and sweat was still on his forehead. the overalls were now wrapped around his waist, and his wife-beater was stained with oil. that cocky smirk was on his face again and he looked at you expectedly.

“you’re lucky i didn’t let your ass starve.” you scoff getting out of the car and he closed the door for you. he followed behind you as you walked into the shop. sukuna's eyes were wandering to your ass, he didn’t want them to but they did. the little shorts that you wore left nothing to the imagination, and to be honest, sukuna was loving it.

“your shorts are small,” was all he could figure to say, and you laughed, turning around to look at the shorts with a shrug.

“i thought they were cute, you don’t like 'em kuna?” you asked, looking up at him, and he wanted to take you right then and there. but he had to remind himself he’s at work and you guys are best friends.

“i never said i didn’t like them,” he mumbled, pulling on the belt loop that snatched you back. you gave him a nasty glare, but he was looking down at you like you were a full-course meal. you paid him no mind, continuing your walk to his manager’s office.

once both of you entered, you handed over the bag full of food for everyone. your mom made you help her cook a lot since you told her that sometimes you stop by and bring them lunch. unfortunately for you, your mom’s voodoo magic (again, not really) infested the men who worked with sukuna.

“you sure you don’t want to marry her man? we’ll be eating good every day,” he said, and sukuna scoffed, stuffing his face with food.

“she didn't even make this, her mom did,” he said, and you hit his arm, giving him a death glare.

“i helped cook it, and actually, i made yours all by myself,” you bragged, but it only made your situation ten times worse. because the men thought it was cute how you made sure you were the one to make sukuna’s food.

you were getting tired of the nagging and were soon ready to leave. sukuna noticed immediately and told everyone you’d be back another day before leading you to your car. it was going on 3, meaning his shift would be over in the next hour and a half.

“i’ll come see you later, okay?” he said, opening the door for you, and you shrugged. he usually came over after he got off work to hang out anyway, but today it felt different.

“you don’t have to if you don’t want, i’ll probably end up just taking a nap anyway,” you tell him, getting in the car.

“stay awake, i’ll be there at 5,” he says, not leaving any room for discussion. he closed your car door and walked away, not even bothering to say bye.

“the nerve of him,” you mumbled to yourself as you drove to your apartment.

to be continued...

one two three four five six

university masterlist

taglist (open):

@grignardsreagent @stardollwrites @keraawrites @soldmysoulto @k-a-m232 @ac27dj @buttershea07 @charminstasia @ane5e @satorupied @miksolosss @nanamisbbygirl @beabamboo @sweetshrew @gurllss @rhicambo @v3rdee @vamppirez @y8zuriha @probablynotleahhhh @snapcracklen @emma-37 @thabiddie23 @sunset-euphoria @ami-s-k @angelita-uchiha @antikaiii @meganwiththebody @certifiedchangbinlover @desirehorizon @meowshiki @cypherthecreator @p1nkfl0wers @emoedgylord @kpopslur @palestrawberrycollection

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lucidfairies · 2 days ago

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thinking about throat training with sevika

nsfw + throat training, finger sucking, fingering fucking, strap sucking, slightly inexperienced reader, vibrating mech fingers, heavy bondage, pronouns "she" and "her" both used once, boot riding ;), strap referred to as a dick/cock

you and sevika had been dating for six months when she found out just how much you liked sucking.

in the beginning of your relationship, sex remained something that was relatively vanilla - aside from your occasional backshots and quickies in public. you didn't always know what you wanted, and sevika was extremely accommodating.

but. when she fucks so much cum out of you one quiet night that she can't help but stuff her large fingers into your mouth, she's quick to find that you have a way with your tongue. the way it swirled around her two thick digits and practically begged for her to keep them in your mouth.

however, the further she pushed them into your mouth, the tighter your throat got, and that wouldn't ever do.

it was then that your whole dynamic changed. rather than simply eating you out or messing around, you would spend the night with her flesh fingers down your throat and her mech fingers vibrating inside you. she spent hours marveling at the way you sucked her fingers until drool collected around the corners of your mouth and your makeup ran.

"big stretch," she would purr before pushing more of her fingers into your mouth. "my good girl can take it." she could've come off the sight of you alone. eyes rolled into the back of your head, humping her mech hand like a dog, mouth full.

and then she started with her dick.

the strap wasn't something that the two of you used very often up until this point - you both liked it a lot, but oftentimes you found yourselves scissoring rather than going through the motions of getting it on and ready.

so, when she tied a vibe to your thigh and had it pressed into your cunt before pushing you onto your knees, you were soaking. she didn't stop there though; she tied your wrists behind your back as well, cupping your face and pulling it against her bulge to make your back arch.

"look at this slut," you whined softly into her bulge. she has just gotten back from work, ready to burn all of her tension with your body. "ready to get her pretty throat fucked, huh?" you nodded.

she would lace her hands in your hair to pull your head back, making you watch as she unclipped her belt and pulled her dick out. she slapped it against your face before resting the tip on your tongue.

"we're gonna start slow, sweetheart," your lips closed around the tip and you sucked it into your mouth. "soon enough you're gonna have your mouth full." you moaned as she pushed you down further.

her patience was admirable, really. she spent night after night pushing you little by little, humiliating you just enough to keep your cunt wet and your mouth wide open, until you could take her all the way to the hilt.

the day you were finally stretched enough was like her birthday or christmas. she had you in her favorite humiliating position - on your knees, wrists behind your back. except this time, there was no vibe between your legs.

"my pretty girl," she cooed, running her flesh thumb over your cheek bone as she cradled your face. "I know my cunt is wet, huh?" you nodded, knowing that she referred to your cunt like she owned it. "good. you're gonna suck my dick and ride my boot, yeah?"

your tongue was out in seconds.

sevika adored the way your eyes watered when she pulled you down on her cock. the way your mascara ran. the way the tears left stains in the makeup you spent hours working on. ruined, just so that you could get her dick in your slutty mouth.

"that's my girl," she'd groan, head lolling back as the harness rubbed against her clit with every pull of your head. "finally sucking me off like you're supposed to. fucking slut." she would say before pulling you all the way against her, watching her cock bob in your throat.

it all got better when you listened to her and rubbed against her boot. you haven't yet taken your panties off, and the sight of you. gods. dick so deep in your throat you couldn't breathe, humping her boot like a sad dog.

she would give you a break here and there, letting you lick and suck the tip, but when she came?

when she felt her orgasm approaching, she'd stop you from having any say in what you did - she'd grip your hair with both hands and fuck into your mouth, use it. when she finally came, you'd be deep throating her again, squeezing her large thighs as she moaned above you until she came down from her high.

don't think that she'd ever neglect you after that - her good girl gets everything she wants after letting her train your throat.

all the thanks to @sleepymothafterhours for letting me use their idea :)

taglist: @skullsbown @strawberrylipglossx @sevikaloverrr3000 @ferxanda @illbecanon @ahahhsuaishaiabsuai @mysticalvampir @missinglover @lilithyys @only4theweekend @rkrivees-blog @awful-yuri @moodient @pinkembodiment @glittzygorilla @sumisamente @lovenoteslesbian @anae-naea-zacheria @kittyk-14 @genderfluidlesbian999

#sevika #sevika smut #sevika x reader #sevika x y/n #sevika arcane #arcane sevika #sevika league of legends #arcane smut #arcane #arcane league of lesbians #arcane league of legends #league of lesbians #throat training #strap sucking

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cybermannete · 2 days ago

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gimme a big boy. - tony (smut)

all i can say about tony is that put me in a room with him and one of us is leaving pregnant.

(contains: heavy smut, straight up porn with no plot im sorry, tony being a rough yet really sweet dom, doggy style, dirty talk.. yeah you know how it goes.)

Tony had reaaaally high stamina. Despite how exhausted your muscles were and how much your cunt screamed from overstimulation, Tony made sure to hold you up, a strong arm around your stomach or massive hands gripping your hips and delivering a smack at your ass once every few thrusts.

You clutched a pillow to yourself, biting into the corner of the fabric as you struggled to keep yourself quiet. Tony was relentless with how he drilled himself into the warm, tight walls of your sopping cunt. He had already came once, deep inside of you. Tony bit his lip as he watched cum squirt and drip out of you.

"Look at that.. couldn't even keep it all in, eh?" He chuckled, leaning forward and cupping your jaw with his hand. You whined, a strangled mewl leaving your throat as he spanked your ass once more. He cooed an "aww" into your ear at your noises, to which he replied. "I know, I know, pretty girl.. you're doing such a good job.. just sit there and keep those pretty lips open so I can hear you."

He was such an ass sometimes.. You remembered how you got here. An argument. It was over something so stupid. You guys never argued over something serious, it was always stupid shit. You had gotten angry, Tony kept being a little shit and pushing your buttons, and now here you were. Letting him fuck the attitude out of you.

His fingers reached down, his finger and thumb lightly pinching and rubbing your clit, which made you grip the sheets of the bed even tighter. Tony will never forget that beautiful sound you made when he did that. The pleasure of his cock throbbing deep in your gummy walls plus him touching you there.. you were certain you were going to cum again any second now.. which time was it? You had no clue. You don't even remember your name or where you were.

"You're so beautiful like this, hon." He whispered into your ear through small grunts and strangled groans as he struggled to maintain his own composure. "You like when I fuck you like this? Touching you, loving on this pretty little cunt?"

He was too good at this.

You nod pathetically, an incoherent babble leaving your lips. Tony kisses your swollen lips in answer, and he sighs. "Such a sweet girl." He then drops his head onto your shoulder, his moans growing louder as you felt his cock twitch. At the same time, your walls were pulsating tightly around him, and your abdomen felt like a rope was being tightened more and more.. "Fuck- Fuck, I'm gonna cum-" He muttered, his grip on you tightening his and fingers on your clit working faster. "Lemme hear you- Lemme hear you baby-"

You toss your head back, your vision growing white and your body growing red hot. You squealed, your legs growing numb as you collapse on the bed. Your breathing was out of control, labored, and you were spent. Tony wasted no time in shushing you, wrapping strong arms around you and pulling you to him. He pressed kisses to your cheek and neck, murmuring soothing and loving things to you as he rode out his own orgasm. He was soft again, in both ways. (Just kidding.)

Tony sighs, a satisfied smile on his face. ".. I love you so much, sweet girl."

#reader insert #self insert #x reader #date everything #date everything tony #date everything x reader #date everything tony x reader

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goobstars · 2 days ago

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𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐘

summary : when ragatha's suggestion of a softball game comes into play, you find yourself befriending a player on the opposing team—evil jax—without the knowledge that your jax was watching from afar.

tags : romance, reader & jax are dating, no maid outfit jax just to spite you all, jealousy, censored profanity, and violence.

note : this was a request from mistycomma, so i hope you enjoy, and thank you for the request!

you found it funny.

everyone was up against evil versions of themselves—minus you and gangle, for some reason. though, you weren't really complaining.

as the field was getting set up—the evil versions taking their places—you couldn't help but just find the whole thing amusing. evil ragatha just laughed a whole lot while talking in an odd accent, evil pomni seemed more relaxed while cursing every now and then, evil kinger—or coach dictatorer—did nothing but shout, and you didn't even know what was going on with bazooble.

yet, the one you found most hilarious of all? evil jax.

could you even call him evil? the boy seemed incredibly shy and antsy, and he always had one hand gripping his arm while he looked around.

you leaned against the bench—sitting beside jax as you continued to examine the evil versions of everybody.

kinger was giving a quick peptalk to everyone, and while it made no sense, you could tell he was just trying to hype everyone up. you nodded at his words before you heard someone clear their throat.

you peered up from kinger and noticed evil jax was standing at the bars of the dugout.

"h-hey, guys. i-i hope we all have a fun game, no matter who ends up winning."

you gifted evil jax a smile, "good luck out there." the boy gave you a nervous smile back before walking away, and you looked up at jax once you noticed his quietness.

jax's eyes darted towards you, then back at evil jax before his eyes narrowed in disgust. "i wanna kill that guy."

"why? he's sweet!" your words only made jax mumbled incoherent things as kinger called ragatha to the field, and you smiled at her once she waved at you before going onto the field.

jax only wrapped an arm around your shoulder, and he shot a scowl at evil jax once he noted the boy gifting you glances.

he leaned in closer as your eyes remained on ragatha while she batted, and he slightly nudged your head with his own.

when you didn't respond, he nuzzled into your shoulder. it got a slight reaction out of you as you leaned your head onto his, but he wanted more of a reaction. he wanted you to pay attention to him and not the game that had that stupid evil jax in it.

you continued to watch the game as you witnessed ragatha hit the ball right into pomni's glove, but before you could make a comment about the loss, you felt jax nip your neck.

"what are you doing?"

your question got no reply as he only pushed his head more into your shoulder, and you didn't know what to do. you didn't know why he was acting like this, and you certainly didn't know what to do about it.

"[name], you're up next!"

you pulled away from jax as soon as kinger announced that you were up, and you watched him slightly frown at your actions. yet, you didn't have time to acknowledge them as you were handed a bat and sent out to the field—rubbing your neck with your free hand.

jax stood up from the bench as he walked over to the bars, and he gripped them as he watched you play.

you were a bit far from where he was, so he couldn't hear you much, but all he knew was that you were talking to evil jax. the boy would say something and you would laugh—which resulted in you missing the hit. why were you joking with him? he was on the opposing team, and there was no way he was that funny to where you would miss the ball.

jax watched as you swung again, and when you missed, he swore he heard evil jax say that you were doing good. why was he being so nice? why couldn't he just shut up and leave you alone?

when it was your final swing, you actually managed to focus this time, but you still missed.

despite the fact you didn't get a single hit, evil jax clapped and cheered you on, and only irritated jax more.

since you had struck out, you walked over to the other side of the dugout, and evil jax followed you.

why was he following you?

jax gripped the bars of the dugout as he scowled at evil jax, and he watched as the boy leaned over the bars to talk to you.

and you were happily talking back.

why were you talking to that guy when jax wasn't that far from you? why did you walk over to the other side of the dugout? did you want to talk to that guy?

"why do you look so bothered?" the sound of zooble's voice made jax roll his eyes as he continued to watch you talk to evil jax, and zooble seemed to catch onto his gaze as they watched as well. "evil jax is a whole lot nicer than you, huh?"

"no, he's just a coward who doesn't know when to mind his own buisness." jax's words were sharp, and zooble let out an airy scoff before crossing their arms. "you know, you weren't acting like this until he started talking to [name]..."

"so what?" jax snapped back, but when he let go of the bar and turned to face zooble, he was met with the sight of them leaning forward on the bench with an eyebrow raised.

"are you jealous?" zooble's words were filled with taunt, and jax's face only flushed as he glared at them. "I AM NOT JEALOUS!"

his pupils were scrambled while he stared at evil jax, and zooble hummed. "i don't think i've ever seen you this bothered before..."

jax only ignored their words once kinger announced that it was his turn to bat, and he harshly grabbed the bat out of kinger's hands as he made his way onto the field.

he noted the way you waved at evil jax before the boy walked back to his spot on the field, and for some reason, that only bothered jax even more. why was he so bothered by this? it's not like you were interested in that guy.

right?

his hands gripped the bat tighter as he took his stance, and he narrowed his eyes at bazooble. "let's see what you're made of!"

bazooble's words made jax's eye twitch, "SHUT UP!"

"i-it's okay! i think you'll do great!"

the sound of evil jax's voice made jax's head snap towards the boy, "I WANT YOU DEAD!"

his gaze flickered towards you, and he noticed how your eyes were wide from his words.

"strike one!"

jax narrowed his eyes before he realized bazooble had thrown the ball, and he frowned. "COME ON, JAX!"

kinger's shout only made him roll his eyes before he slightly lifted the bat, and he lazily swung the bat.

oddly enough, he hit the ball, but it didn't go in front of him. instead, it went behind him, and a large centipede in the crowd caught it.

which it then ate the ball.

"huh, i guess there's no more ball—we're done."

as jax trudged back to the dugout despite kinger's worried shouts for him to go back, but jax just handed the bat to zooble before walking over to you.

you could hear him grumble a few things underneath his breath before he plopped down beside you, "are you okay?"

"i'm fine." jax snapped at you, and you only blinked at him a few times before standing up from the bench. his ears slightly moved down as he straightened up his back, "where are you going?"

"you seem annoyed, so i'm going to give you some space and go talk to evil jax for a minute while they try to find a ball—"

you felt his hand grasp your wrist before pulling you back down on the bench, and he wrapped his arms around your waist. "no."

"why not?"

"because he's annoying and i'm gonna kill him."

"jax, it'll only be for a second—"

thump.

your words were cut off as jax tensed up, and he pushed you away while you eyed his leg. "did—did you just thump at me?"

he looked away from you, and you felt a smile cross your lips once you took everything into consideration.

the nudging, nipping, and thumping gave it all away.

"you're jealous." you teased him while his face heavily flushed, and his eyes flickered towards you in a glare. "i am not."

you only raised your eyebrows at his words, and you slightly scooted away before hearing that noise again.

thump.

his glare only harshened as you let out a laugh, yet your laughter was cut off once he wrapped an arm around your waist before he hid his face in your shoulder. "shut up."

you let out a quiet sigh before placing a kiss against his cheek, and you felt him relax against you.

you watched as ragatha went up to bat again, which confused you, but you didn't even know if you could call it her 'batting' due to the fact bazooble was laying on the ground for some reason.

"ANOTHER HOME RUN!" caine announced, "THAT CONCLUDES THE GAME!"

ragatha looked at caine in confusion, and his words honestly made you even more perplexed too.

yet, when jax shifted his head against your shoulder, your confusion vanished.

the opposing team griped about how they lost while evil ragatha quite literally melted upon losing, but while they were doing that, you felt jax lift his head from your neck with dialated pupils.

"i'm not a vegan anymore."

you watched as jax hastily shot up from the bench before dashing back onto the field, and you were confused as to what he was doing before you noticed him heading straight towards evil jax.

the boy waved at jax before his face was filled with fear, and you heard screams erupt from him once jax bit him and started shaking him around.

you only leaned your elbows against your knees as you placed your face in your hands, and a quiet sigh left your throat while you watched the scene.

as odd as jax was, you loved that boy.

and it made you happy knowing that he loved you back.

#𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 #the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus x reader #tadc #tadc x reader #tadc x you #tadc jax #jax #jax x reader #jax x you #tadc fanfiction #tadc fanfic #x reader #x you #fanfic #romance

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chimielie · 2 days ago

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You've gotten kind of obsessed with Suna's voice.

You don't know how because you so often hate the actual content of his words. He's monotone, often, so you have to really focus in to hear the nuances of it. The chuckle in the back of his throat when he's laughing at someone to their face, the dip when someone annoys him, the slight pitch up when he says something outrageous just to make you start shouting.

His voice is mellow and deep, not so bassy that it's grating, not so quiet that you ever have to ask him to repeat himself. He doesn't ramble and doesn't stumble over his words; if he speaks, he's self-assured and says only what he needs to say. If you unfocus your eyes and let whatever bullshit he's saying fade out and just listen to the rolling sound of it, you could almost imagine...

You refuse to finish that thought.

Still, it keeps leaking into your life in ways that aren't ideal. You try not to show preference when conversing with your friends, but your head snaps toward him whenever he says something, no matter how intently you'd been listening before. You start asking him to repeat himself even when you heard him perfectly clearly because you liked his inflection (or more often, lack thereof) on a particular word, the roundness of a certain syllable. He obliges so easily you start to wonder if he knows.

It's even coming up in your dreams. Nothing too explicit, not that your waking self knows of, anyway—you just wake up, suddenly missing the weight of a hand on your waist and the warmth of lips against the shell of your ear. Only one or two sentences will stay with you: sometimes lacking context, like "I missed this," this forever a mystery to you, or impossible phrases, like "I missed you."

Suna is a friend. A friend of a friend that you think is kind of annoying. You're not sure why you walk around with false echoes of him—him confessing to you in your head.

He's funny, sure, but too often mean. He always looks like he's thinking of a joke about you, one he doesn't even mind saying to your face because he doesn't expect you to get it. He's vitamin D deficient, he didn't know how to do his laundry until way too late in life, and he keeps inviting you over to watch weird experimental films.

You go, but only because you enjoy arguing with him about the meaning of it all and somehow the argument never quite finishes. "We'll finish this next time," he says, and you keep coming back like a lab rat for rage-hormone-laced sugar water. He used to invite the rest of your friends, but they stopped attending one by one until it was just you and him, whisper-shouting at each other at 2 a.m. because his hand touched yours in the popcorn bucket and you reflexively grabbed it and then bit him. And all the time, he has that stupid half-smile on his face, like he knows something you don't, like everything you say to him is a joke.

You're there now, your requisite fist-fight over the popcorn over and vacuumed up already, some 60s Soviet film playing on his TV. Somehow, after the violent intermission had wrapped up, he'd maneuvered you down so that your head was in his lap, petting you every time you started making unpredictable movements in a way that managed to make you go limp. It was unfair and made it much harder to win arguments without utilizing physical force.

"It's kind of obtuse if you don't know anything about the filmmaker," he's saying.

"That's the point," you say, his hand stroking across your forehead and making your eyes flutter closed. "You're telling me you make me watch this artistic shit and you want it to be linear?"

"You're not even watching," Suna laughs. "I don't want it to be linear, I'm just curious how much the average person knew about his biography back in the day."

"Mmf," you say. His other hand is on your shoulder now, gently applying pressure, working out some of the kinks having to put up with him has put there. "Annoying guy. Annoy me all the time."

"Do I?" He says. "You look pretty relaxed. You gonna fall asleep on me, huh?"

"It was an order, get it right," you grumble. "Not gonna fall asleep. Just keep talking."

"Anything you want," he says, "I knew you liked my voice."

You'd fight him about it, but you're so comfortable. It'd be like letting him win to disturb your peace right now, so you just listen to him neg you and then narrate the screen for your closed eyes, your breathing slowing and getting deeper. You'll wake in the morning not remembering coming to bed, a hand on your waist you remember without ever experiencing, a sharp chin you hadn't known to imagine digging into the crook of your neck.

He'll say something and be smug and obnoxious to the core, maybe (maybe!) awakening something in you even worse than it was with his morning voice.

When he tells you "we didn't finish last night," his lips tilting subtly in a motion that shouts out loud to you, "I thought you'd want to stay and get the last word in," you'll laugh without meaning to.

There's so much to disagree about in the world; you'll have to stay a long time before you've covered all of it. Thank heavens you have the spirit to battle it out till the bitter end.

#shorts!#i dont want to talk about hwat just happened to me he is taunting me in my brain #suna rintaro x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq!! x reader #suna x reader #suna rintarō x reader #suna rintarou x reader #idiots to lovers #up! top!

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thatonegrimm · 1 day ago

Text

The Manager’s Guide to Demon Boybands: A Witch’s Oath

Witchcraft in the Waiting Room

Prologue/Chapter 1/Chapter2

The conference room was every shade of uninspired: beige walls, buzzing lights, and the faint scent of instant ramen lingering like a ghost that never left. The table, scratched and water-stained, was just large enough to seat the five demons pretending to be a rookie idol group.

They were waiting. Restless.

Jinu sat at the head of the table, posture perfect, fake reading glasses perched on his nose. He tapped a pen against the table in a rhythm that matched neither time nor beat.

Abby lounged next to him, arms crossed to subtly flex against the tight sleeves of his shirt. He offered a friendly smile to no one in particular and watched the clock tick.

Mystery leaned back in his chair, the edge of a company memo torn between his teeth. His dark eyes flicked toward the lights overhead, as if trying to understand their existence by glaring at them.

Romance looked painfully at home, reclined like he was posing for a solo teaser poster. One leg crossed. Shirt half unbuttoned.

And Baby? Baby had three open energy drinks in front of him, his foot bouncing like a jackhammer.

They were told their new manager would arrive at 2 p.m.

It was 2:04.

"Maybe they forgot," Jinu muttered.

"Maybe we manage ourselves now," Romance said with a smirk. "Democratic. Sexy."

"Do we really need a manager?" Baby asked, already halfway through his second drink. "We’ve got charisma."

"We have no schedule, no staff, and no clue what we’re doing," Jinu shot back. "We absolutely need a manager."

"What if she’s old?" Baby asked. "Like ancient-old. Or smells like mothballs."

"What if she’s hot?" Romance countered.

"What if she eats us?" Mystery added quietly. It was hard to tell if he was joking.

The door opened.

They fell silent.

The new manager stepped into the room, closing the door behind her without a sound. She carried a clipboard, a black coffee, and an air of unimpressed efficiency.

Her eyes swept over them, measured but not wide. Not startled. She set her drink down calmly, adjusted her blazer, and spoke with the kind of confidence that made even demons listen.

"Good afternoon. I’m Shin Areum, your new manager. You must be the Saja Boys."

A beat passed.

Five demons blinked at her.

Romance was the first to recover. He sat up, flashing a slow, practiced smile. "You're not what I expected."

Areum tilted her head. "Neither are you."

That earned a flicker of interest from Mystery.

Jinu cleared his throat, standing up just enough to bow politely. "Thank you for coming. We’re looking forward to working with you."

"I’m sure you are," Areum said. She flipped a page on her clipboard. "We’ll be discussing your upcoming showcase schedule shortly. But first, I’d like to set a few ground rules."

The boys sat straighter.

"Number one," she continued, her tone calm but crisp. "No skipping rehearsals. No exceptions. Number two, personal drama stays personal, I don’t want to anything about it on the news. Number three, if you’re going to experiment with... eccentric looks, make sure they’re not flammable."

A pause.

"And number four respect the staff. Even if you think you could do their job better." She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "That goes for me, too."

They were quiet again.

She hadn't said anything strange. Nothing out of place. But something in the way she watched them, steady, calm, and wholly unafraid rubbed against instinct.

Mystery tilted his head slightly. Baby stared at her like she was a math problem he couldn’t solve. Romance looked intrigued. Abby smiled, as always, but this time with more interest than politeness.

And Jinu… Jinu watched her like he was trying to find the string beneath her surface.

But she didn’t give them time to pull at it.

"Now," Areum said, gathering her things, "you have ten minutes to get dressed for practice. I’ll meet you in the studio."

She turned on her heel and left the room.

They didn’t follow right away.

Not because they were suspicious.

But because something about her energy, tightly coiled, quiet, patient made them feel like they had already been sized up, cataloged, and filed away.

And somehow, that was worse than being underestimated.

(Flashback: One Week Earlier – Areum’s POV)

The city hummed with energy. Seoul always did. But lately, there was a flicker beneath the noise like static in the ley lines. Something was coming.

Areum had felt it before she saw it.

The prophecy had been buried in her grimoire, untouched for a century:

"Five fires shall walk the city.Under glamour, under guise.If the last witch sees them first,They will live.If others find them—Burn."

She found them by accident. Or maybe fate.

A rehearsal studio. Music shaking the walls. Bodies moving with more power than choreography should allow.

When she saw them; five boys laughing, sweating, radiating energy like a warning, she knew. Not what they were exactly. But that they were hers to protect.

Not to control.

To watch. To guide.

To save, if it came to that.

(End of Flashback)

They followed her to the studio in silence.

Romance didn’t flirt. Not yet. Not until the elevator dinged and the spell of that first meeting cracked.

"She’s definitely not a rookie manager," he whispered.

"She didn’t flinch," Abby said thoughtfully.

"She didn’t ask questions," Jinu muttered.

"Maybe she’s just chill?" Baby offered.

Mystery didn’t speak.

But when Areum opened the studio door and waved them in like she had all the time in the world something in him settled.

This wasn’t going to be easy.

But for the first time in a long time, it wasn’t going to be boring either.

#kpdh x reader #jinu x reader #mystery x reader #abby x reader #romance x reader #baby x reader #saja boys x reader #TMGDB

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satrs · 20 hours ago

Text

Requested by anon ↳ ❝ [...thigh riding calebbbbb😩😩😩😩] ¡! ❞

A/N; HEREEE WE GOOOOOOO!!!! Sorry sweeties been gone for a while bc it’s so damn HOT in my area and yk ur girl had to go on holiday…

You've always caught yourself staring at him, at his thighs.

So buff and meaty, always tensed so hard under you when you perched comfortably on his lap.

Sometimes you'd catch yourself staring when he sprawled back on the couch, legs spread like he owned the whole damn room, shirt rucked up just enough to offer a tease of his abs. Hair messy from his long day at the fleet, eyes low-lidded, smug— already knowing exactly where your gaze lingered.

You're not even sure how it started. Maybe it was the way you looked at him, or maybe it was how you crossed the room slowly, with heat in your gaze and nothing under your oversized tee.

Whatever it was, doesn't matter now.

Straddling Caleb's thick, muscled thigh, his skin shining in your juices where you've been grinding down on him for who knows how long.

Your hands are braced on his shoulders, trembling slightly as your soaked panties drag across his thigh again, again and again, your shirt tugged between your teeth to eye your needy pussy immersing his skin in a glisterning cover.

"You're really fucking into this, huh, pips'?" Grinning and voice a low, a rumble vibrating straight through your spine. His hands are anchored tight around your waist, guiding you hips to a steady rythm, your clit grinding against him with hot friction.

The slick drag of your panties over his leg sends sparks rocketing through your core, and you let out a broken moan, hips stuttering.

"M-mhmmm, feels so good!" Your head falls against his forehead pressed firm. "Can't stop, can't— f-fuckkk!"

"Yeah, I can tell, baby," Your lips catches between your teeth at his groan. He leans forward to mouth at your throat. "Just look at this shit," he begins, teasing snicker causing your to squirm. His hand slips between you, dragging your panties aside just enough to swipe his fingers through your slick, puffy folds before he brings them up between you two, sticky and shining, holding them right in front of your lips. "quite the needy pussy ya got there, huh?"

With no hesitation your tongue flicks out to suck his fingers into your mouth, eyes fluttering shut as your hips rock harder, faster, chasing that pressure, that delicious friction.

The moment his soaked fingers leave your mouth, they return to your clit, rubbing lazy circles as his thigh flexes beneath you. And you swear you see stars.

"Caleb! 'M gonna—nghhhh!" you whimper, voice breaking on the edge of a cry and he only grins at you mischevously.

"Yeah? Gonna cum just from my leg? My needy baby." He leans in, dragging his teeth across your jaw. "Want it that bad?"

Your hips grind with wild humps now, every now and then catching a low groan from him as your thigh scraped against his hidden, hard cock.

"Mhm! Wanna cum on you, make a mess!" you choke out, tears pricking your eyes from how bad it aches, how bad you needed your release.

He grunts, cock hard and twitching beneath his boxers, pre leaking and damn near cumming just from looking at your needy humps against him, watching you lose your mind on just his thigh.

"What a fuckin' mess," he growls, and his thigh flexes just as your clit caught onto the muscle. And that was just enough for your orgasm to hit you like a truck, a high-pitched moan tearing from your throat as your legs shake, hips grinding down hard.

Caleb just grips your thighs, hauling you closer, and you gasp when you feel his cock pressing right against your soaked entrance, his boxers showing an evident imprint of his pre.

And as the wet puddle of your spasming cunt hit his boxers, you can feel his thich cock twitch right against your ruined panties.

"That's one," he pants, licking a stripe up your neck, followed by a hard smack to your ass, leaving a red imprint behind. "Want you to do it again, pips'. Cum riiiiight on my cock now, yeah?"

"A-again?"

"Mhmmmm. Now c'mon, baby. I know ya got one more in ya."

©︎𝙎𝘼𝙏𝙍𝙎 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. Do NOT plagiarize, copy, modify, republish, or translate my work in any way!

#◛⑅·˚ ᵂᴼᴿᴷ #lads smut #caleb smut #love and deepspace smut #caleb x you #lnds caleb #love and deepspace caleb #caleb #lnds #xia yizhou #lads caleb #l&ds smut #♡˳ᴸ&ᴰˢ

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pankesitopank · 3 days ago

Note

hard dom ni-ki x hard dom jay x sub reader thoughts?

HardDom!Niki - HardDom!Jay Who...

Girl, get ready because this has a part 2

this is more than 4k words of the 2 separately, and the second part is with the 2

🖤 Harddom!Ni-ki who slaps you in the face with his cock just to watch you flinch, then holds your jaw and does it again slower, meaner, because you looked too fucking pretty the first time.

He doesn’t even warn you.

You’re already on your knees, the floor cold under your thighs, fingers gripping his jeans like it’ll help you stay upright — and then smack. His cock lands across your cheek with a wet, heavy thud that echoes in the silence. You gasp, eyes going wide, skin stinging, and when you glance up at him, his grin is pure filth.

"Aw, did that surprise you?" he coos, tone mocking, thumb already grabbing your chin to keep your face tilted up.

Another slap. Slower this time. Deliberate. It drags over your lips, slick and hot, painting your mouth with pre-cum.

"Open. Wider. Yeah, that’s it. Fucking look at you."

He groans under his breath like the sight turns him on — and it does. You, obedient and wide-eyed, mouth open while he taps the tip against your tongue like it’s nothing but a toy for him to play with.

Then his hand tightens around your jaw.

"Sluts don’t get to be shy. Say ah, sweetheart. You wanna be used, right?"

He doesn’t give you the chance to answer. Just presses in deeper, cock stretching your lips painfully slow, watching with predatory eyes as your mascara starts to smear from how hard you're trying to hold eye contact. Your throat tightens. He loves that.

"That’s it. Cry on my dick."

And he laughs — fucking laughs — when your eyes gloss over, when you gag a little, when spit starts to drip down your chin and you whimper around the weight in your mouth. He doesn’t thrust yet. He just rests it there, thick and throbbing on your tongue, daring you to take more.

"Keep going. Show me how much of a whore you really are."

Because hard dom!Ni-ki doesn’t just want you on your knees.

He wants you wrecked.

From the first slap to the final drop of spit.

🖤 Harddom!Ni-ki who slaps your pussy so hard you jolt and sob, then does it again just to feel the way your thighs twitch — because pain makes you tighter, and he likes it when your cunt clenches around nothing.

You're already a mess — lips kiss-bruised, cheeks sticky with spit, eyes glossy like you’re drunk off him. He’s got you laid out flat on the bed, legs wide open, panties ripped and discarded, knees shaking like they’re begging to close.

But he doesn't let them.

He’s kneeling between your thighs, big hand planted firmly on your inner knee, keeping you spread and helpless while the other one lifts.

Crack.

The first slap hits your clit, sharp and wet, and you jerk like you’ve been electrocuted.

A choked cry tears out of your throat.

“Fuck—Ni-ki—” you whimper, hips squirming back instinctively. But he only grabs your waist and drags you closer, forcing you to take it again.

Crack.

“Did I say you could run?” he growls, eyes dark and wild, teeth clenched like he’s barely restraining himself. “You beg for cock but can’t take a little slap? That’s pathetic.”

Smack.

Another hit — your pussy clenches so hard it sends a pulse through your whole body, and he notices.

He drags two fingers through your folds, slow and cruel, humming at how soaked you are.

“Look at this. You’re dripping,” he sneers, voice low and taunting. “You like it when I hurt you? Fucking slut. This messy little hole’s crying for it.”

He slaps it again, this time faster — left, right, center — a rhythm meant to punish you. The slick clap of skin-on-skin echoes like sin between your thighs.

And you’re not sure if you’re shaking from pain, need, or how absolutely wrecked his voice makes you.

“I want this pussy swollen, baby. Red and stinging. You’re not gonna cum until I make her cry.”

You nod, dizzy, desperate, thighs trembling so hard they ache.

He grins. Dark. Hungry.

Then he spits right on your cunt and slaps it again.

🖤 Harddom!Ni-ki who forces his cock into you slow and deep while you whimper “It’s too big,” only to pin your legs up and push harder, smirking as your cunt stretches wide open around him—because he doesn’t care if it fits. He’s going to make it.

You can feel it before you even see it.

The weight of it, the heat — his thick cock dragging along your inner thigh as he lines himself up, one hand gripping the back of your knee to keep you folded open for him.

You try to breathe.

You try to stay relaxed.

But you feel him press the head to your entrance, and your body tenses on instinct. You’re too tight. Too sensitive from all the slapping. Your pussy flinches, clenches, like it’s trying to prepare—but it’s not enough.

Not for him.

“Ni-ki—wait—it’s too—”

He doesn’t.

He just grunts through his teeth and sinks the first few inches in, slow but unyielding, watching your face twist into something halfway between pain and ruined desire.

“Too what? Too big?” he mocks, voice low and smug. “Should’ve thought of that before you started acting like a brat. Now you’re gonna take it. All of it.”

Your hands grab the sheets. Your back arches off the bed.

You gasp. Whine. Claw at him, nails digging into his arms as the burn starts to set in.

It’s stretching you. Too wide, too deep — you feel every inch and then more.

But Ni-ki just groans at the way your walls flutter, the way you try to squirm away, the way your pussy sucks him in like it’s begging to be broken.

He grabs your hips.

Shoves deeper.

You cry out — a high, choked moan that cuts off halfway when he rocks forward again and buries it to the base.

“Fuck, you feel that?” he hisses, eyes rolling back slightly. “Your cunt’s hugging me like she doesn’t wanna let go. That’s fucking cute.”

You’re shaking.

Mumbling nonsense.

Moaning loud and breathless as he holds still inside you — not moving, not letting you adjust. Just letting your body feel all of him, swollen and thick, twitching deep in your gut like it’s daring you to cum on it.

Then he leans in, presses a hand over your mouth, and grins right in your face.

“If you think this is bad, princess… wait until I start moving.”

🖤 Harddom!Ni-ki who fucks you from behind with one hand tangled in your hair and the other pressing between your shoulders, spit sliding down your spine as he folds you flat and slams in so deep your toes curl—growling “Stay still while I ruin this pussy.”

Your face is pressed into the mattress.

One cheek smushed against the sheets, lip trembling, mascara streaking down your temples. You can barely catch your breath with the way he’s holding you — spine arched, knees tucked under you, hips up like a perfect little fuckdoll.

“Stay right there,” he growls behind you.

And then—smack.

His palm lands heavy on your ass, just to make it jiggle.

“Don’t move.”

You barely nod, body already buzzing, dripping between your thighs. But then you feel it — Ni-ki’s hand grabbing your hair, yanking it back hard enough to make you yelp.

“Fucking brat. You like when I manhandle you, huh?”

His cock is already nudging your entrance again—still soaked, still too thick, and now your poor pussy’s raw from being stretched open and slapped, swollen from how long he’s been teasing it.

But he doesn’t care.

He pushes in fast and deep, shoving you forward with the force of it, making your arms give out so your chest hits the bed with a whimper.

“Yeah,” he grunts. “That’s how I like it. Face down, ass up. Take it.”

And then he spits.

Right down your spine.

Hot and wet and filthy, sliding between your shoulder blades and pooling on the curve of your back before his hand smears it downward like it’s fucking lube.

He grabs both your wrists, pins them above your head with one hand, and leans over your back, his breath hot on your ear as his hips start to pound into you.

Relentless. Brutal.

Flesh slapping flesh, the sound obscene as it echoes around the room. He’s not chasing his orgasm. He’s not even focused on yours.

He’s just. Fucking. You. Dumb.

"You feel that, baby?” he pants, voice rough and dangerous. “That’s what a ruined pussy sounds like. You hear how wet you are? That’s all me."

You sob into the sheets, body jerking forward every time he slams in. Your legs shake. Your mouth’s hanging open. You can’t even speak — and that makes him smile.

“Dumb little whore. Not even making words anymore.”

He pulls your hair harder.

Spits again on your back.

And fucks you harder like he’s chasing the moment your body gives up completely.

“Better hold on, sweetheart. ‘Cause I’m not stopping ‘til this bed breaks.”

🖤 Harddom!Ni-ki who holds a vibrator to your clit while his cock is still deep inside you, hips moving in slow, deliberate rolls as you convulse under him—moaning “You said you could take it, right? Then take it again, princess,” while he slaps your thigh every time you try to pull away.

Your body’s not even yours anymore.

You’re flat on your back now, legs trembling and spread open, hair sticking to your sweaty skin, mouth falling open around sobs and moans that don’t even sound real. Your cunt is raw. Wrecked. Still fluttering from the last orgasm he ripped out of you.

But Ni-ki’s not finished.

He never is.

"You done?" he sneers, leaning over you, sweat dripping from his neck onto your tits as he looks down at your fucked-out face. "Awww, baby… too bad."

Because then the buzz starts.

Your head jerks back — a broken gasp leaving your lips as he turns on the vibrator and presses it directly to your clit, swollen and hypersensitive, nerves already fried from how many times he’s made you cum tonight.

And it’s instant.

Your back arches. Your legs kick. Your body starts to run away on its own — twitching and squirming under him like it knows what’s coming.

"Where the fuck you think you’re going?"

SMACK.

He slaps your thigh so hard it leaves a red mark and pins your legs back up.

"Stay still. You wanted to be a cockdrunk little slut, right? So take it."

He starts fucking you again, but slower this time — every inch dragging deep, stretching you with an obscene slick sound while the vibrator stays glued to your clit. It’s torture. Blinding, unbearable pleasure that builds too fast and too sharp.

You cum again.

Hard.

Your stomach tightens. Your whole body shakes. A scream tears from your throat.

And he just laughs.

"Look at that.” He slaps your thigh again, watches your pussy clench around him like it’s scared of the next wave. “Didn’t even tell me you were gonna cum. That’s rude."

You can’t breathe. Can’t speak. Just sob and whimper and beg — not with words, but with your eyes, with the way your fingers claw uselessly at the sheets.

And he keeps going.

“We’re not done. You’re not finished ‘til I say so.”

Another orgasm. You convulse this time, mouth open in a silent cry, thighs trembling uncontrollably.

He doesn’t stop.

Just pushes the vibe harder into your clit, whispers something filthy in your ear like:

"Be a good girl and squirt for me. I wanna see this pretty pussy cry."

And when you do?

He moans. Deep. Like he’s in heaven.

Like the way your juices spray and soak the sheets is the only thing he’s ever wanted.

🖤 Harddom!Jay who makes you kneel, perfectly still, for ten full minutes with your hands behind your back and your eyes on the floor—because you don’t deserve to touch him until you can prove you're worthy.

He hasn’t said a word since he walked into the room.

Just looked at you, jaw tight, black shirt clinging to his chest like sin itself. And then pointed to the floor in front of him—

One look. One command.

You dropped to your knees like the well-trained slut you’re trying to be.

But now it’s been minutes.

And he still hasn’t touched you.

He’s just standing there. Leaning against the desk. Arms crossed, watching your form like he’s studying a painting. Your knees burn against the hardwood. Your fingers twitch behind your back. Your eyes ache to look up at him—

But you don’t.

You know better.

“Still.”

His voice cuts through the room like a blade, sharp and low.

You freeze.

“Hands flat. Spine straight. You’re shaking.”

You swallow the whimper that rises in your throat. Adjust your posture. Chin down. Lips parted just the way he likes.

The air is thick with tension. Your thighs are sticky with arousal. But he doesn’t move.

He walks around you instead—slowly, deliberately—bootsteps echoing around you like thunder.

“Ten minutes.”

He says it like it’s nothing.

Like you haven’t already been trembling for five.

“Ten minutes of obedience. You hold that position, or you don’t get to touch my cock tonight. Understood?”

You nod, soft and desperate.

“Words.”

“Yes, sir.”

He hums. Low. Dark. Pleased. But still doesn’t stop circling you.

“You’ve been greedy lately. Touching yourself when you’re not allowed. Mouthing off. Bratting like Ni-ki didn’t already fuck the attitude out of you.”

His voice is a murmur now—right by your ear as he leans down.

“Do I look like him to you?”

You shake your head fast. “N-No, sir.”

“Damn right.”

Then he straightens, steps in front of you, and undoes his belt.

Your heart stops.

His cock is already half-hard—thick, veiny, flushed at the tip—and he doesn’t let you near it. Just holds it lazily in one hand, the other grabbing a fistful of your hair.

You blink up at him, thighs squeezing together, and he smirks.

“You want it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you wait.”

He taps the tip against your cheek.

“You wait until the timer runs out. Not a second before.”

Then he slaps it against your lips—once. Firm and slow.

And you know right then:

This isn’t about pleasure.

It’s about control.

And Jay has every last ounce of yours wrapped around his perfect fucking fingers.

🖤 Harddom!Jay who ties you down and edges you with slow, precise fingers—praising how good you look crying for it, only to slap your tits when you get too close to cumming. Because he wants you desperate, not satisfied.

You should’ve known the silk rope meant trouble.

Jay is methodical about it. Each knot tied with purpose, every pull snug but careful, wrapping you up like a pretty little gift he gets to open and ruin on his own time.

Your wrists are spread above your head, ankles bound to the corners of the bed, legs wide and shaking. The rope digs into your skin, soft but firm, leaving just enough room for you to squirm when he touches you—

And he will touch you.

Eventually.

He runs a hand down your stomach, cool palm skating over trembling skin, until he reaches your core—already soaked, swollen, and fluttering with need.

“You’re beautiful like this,” he murmurs, low and smooth, brushing his knuckles between your folds. “So exposed. So obedient. I could keep you like this forever.”

You gasp as two fingers slip in easily—slow, deep, curling just enough to make your hips jolt off the bed.

Then he stops.

Not a word. Not a sound. Just pulls his hand away, watching the way your pussy clenches around nothing and your lip quivers.

“You thought that was me being generous?”

He tilts his head, eyes dark.

“No, baby. I’m testing you.”

He leans down—mouth close to your ear, voice soft but deadly:

“Let me see if you can handle my love.”

Then he fucks you with his fingers.

Slow. Precise. Controlled.

Each thrust deep and deliberate, curling perfectly against your g-spot, his thumb barely brushing your clit like a tease, just enough to make you ache.

Your back arches.

Your mouth falls open.

You’re so close.

“Jay—p-please—”

Tears slip from the corners of your eyes, lips trembling with each breath.

And that’s when he stops.

Again.

And slaps your tits.

Hard.

One. Then the other.

The sting snaps through your chest and you cry out, thighs shaking in their restraints.

“Too greedy.”

He says it flatly, shaking his head in disappointment as he rubs the red marks with his palm.

“You’ll cum when I say. Not when your pussy decides to.”

Another slap.

And then his fingers slide back in.

Deeper. Rougher. Slower.

Dragging another orgasm out of you just so he can steal it again.

“You don’t cum until I say ‘now.’ Understand?”

You nod, sobbing.

“Y-Yes, sir—yes—”

“Then be good.”

He smiles.

And keeps going.

Until you’re shaking, whimpering, begging him to just let you fall apart.

🖤 Harddom!Jay who mouth-fucks you while one hand holds your throat, thumb pressing just enough to feel the bulge of his cock sliding in—because you’re at your most beautiful when you’re silent, obedient, and full.

He doesn’t ease in.

Not like before.

Not like when he was praising you for your tears and sighing at how sweet your pussy was.

No—this is Jay when he’s done being patient.

You’re kneeling again. Mouth open. Eyes already wet from being edged into delirium. You haven’t said a word since he told you to shut up five minutes ago—and now, with one hand in your hair and the other wrapped around your throat?

Jay’s fucking your face.

It’s brutal.

Rhythmic.

Calculated.

He thrusts in deep, hips rolling slow and deliberate as he watches your throat bulge with every inch of him. His cock stretches your mouth wide, too wide, saliva spilling down your chin in messy strings—but he doesn’t flinch.

His hand tightens around your neck.

“Mmm,” he hums low, dark eyes never leaving yours. “Feel that? That’s how far down you can take me.”

Your only response is a gag and a choked whimper—and that earns you a filthy grin.

“Don’t talk,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb along the curve of your jaw. “You’re not here to speak. You’re here to serve.”

He rocks into your mouth again, slower this time, letting the weight of him rest on your tongue, your lips stretching, jaw aching, spit bubbling at the corners.

His thumb presses right over the bulge in your throat.

“There it is,” he whispers.

“God, you wear me so fucking well.”

You try to breathe through your nose, but his hand is still tight around your throat—just enough to make your vision swim, just enough to make your body shake with the overwhelming pressure of it all.

He moans.

A low, guttural sound as your throat squeezes tight around him and your eyes flutter like you’re about to pass out in pleasure.

“Fuck, baby,” he mutters, voice hoarse now, cock twitching between your lips. “You love being used, don’t you? You were made for this. Look at you.”

He holds you still for a beat—throat full, eyes glassy, drool soaking your chest—and then slowly pulls out.

Your mouth gasps open with a wet, gasping moan—tongue out, spit glistening, a perfect ruined mess.

And he just smirks.

“Open wider.”

Then he slaps his cock across your face again.

Because you don’t need air.

You need to be owned.

🖤 Harddom!Jay who makes you ride a dildo in front of a mirror while he watches from a chair, legs spread, stroking his cock lazily as he commands you to beg for the real thing—because you don’t get him unless you’ve earned him.

“Mirror.”

That’s all he says.

You know what it means—he’s already sitting in the armchair behind you, legs spread wide, shirt undone, cock in hand. He looks bored. Relaxed. Disgustingly composed while your whole body trembles from the overstimulation he already gave you tonight.

But this isn’t about mercy.

This is about proving you’re worthy to serve.

The dildo is mounted to the floor—thick, unyielding, and cold. It doesn’t twitch, doesn’t moan, doesn’t praise. But it stretches your poor pussy open all the same. You lower yourself onto it with shaking thighs, whimpering at the way it splits you apart again.

You feel his eyes on you before he speaks.

“Don’t look at me. Look at yourself.”

Your gaze snaps up to the mirror. And the reflection is obscene.

You. On your knees. Hips rolling slowly over the silicone cock. Breasts bouncing with every shallow bounce. Eyes already glassy. Mouth parted, drool slick on your chin from earlier. You look wrecked.

He smiles. Slowly.

Leans back and strokes his cock once.

“You want mine instead? Then beg. Show me what this pussy’s willing to do to get it.”

You moan. You grind. You ride that fake cock with everything you have, hands trembling as you grip your thighs for support, rolling your hips in circles, whining through bitten lips as your soaked cunt takes it again and again.

“Not enough,” Jay says lazily.

“You’re not even working for it. Don’t be shy now.”

You bounce harder.

Your ass slaps against the base of the dildo, your body jolting with each thrust, your eyes glued to your reflection as you cry out.

“Please—please, Jay, I need yours—I’ll be good, I swear—”

“Will you?”

His voice drops an octave.

“Because right now you look like a whore who’s satisfied with plastic.”

Your whole body tenses.

You grind. You ride. You sob. And when he finally stands, cock in hand, eyes locked on the way your cunt’s swallowing silicone?

He gives you one command:

“Stop.”

You freeze.

Breathing hard. Cunt pulsing. Eyes wide. Thighs trembling.

And he steps behind you, pressing the tip of his cock against your cheek, dragging it across your lips slowly.

“You want this?”

“Yes, sir,” you whisper.

Then he leans in and growls:

“Then ride my cock like you rode that one. But scream louder. I want the neighbors to know who you belong to.”

🖤 Harddom!Jay who fucks you without letting you touch him, pinning your wrists down with one hand while the other wraps around your throat—because this isn’t about your pleasure. This is about him owning you, using you, filling you so deep you forget who you are.

He gives you one command before he takes you:

“Don’t move your hands.”

And you nod, all wide-eyed and pliant, but you know better. You always reach for him. You always need to cling. So this time?

He doesn’t give you the option.

Your back hits the bed and before you can even blink, Jay’s on top of you, cock hot and heavy against your stomach as he grabs both your wrists and slams them into the mattress above your head.

He holds them there.

One hand.

Effortless.

The other hand snakes down to your throat, thumb dragging along your jaw, his expression unreadable. Focused. Almost cold.

“Keep them right here,” he murmurs, low and precise. “Or I’ll tie them to the fucking headboard and edge you for the rest of the night.”

You gasp—but nod. Breath caught. Body shaking.

He doesn’t wait.

His cock pushes into you in one slow, punishing stroke—stretching you wide open, your pussy clenching around him like it’s never been filled before. The stretch is perfect. Deep. Controlled. Unrelenting.

And you whimper.

So loud.

Your wrists twitch—instinctively—trying to reach for his arms, his shoulders, his back—

“Ah ah,” he warns, voice dangerous now. “What did I say?”

His fingers tighten around your throat, just enough to make you freeze. The pressure sparks heat through your core, making your walls flutter around his cock—and he feels it.

Smirks.

Rolls his hips again.

This time? Harder.

Deeper.

So slow it makes you cry out, head tipping back into the pillows, needing something to hold onto—

But you can’t.

You’re not allowed.

You’re just here to take it.

“You’re a good girl when you’re helpless,” he breathes, voice husky, gaze flicking down to where he disappears inside you. “No hands. No control. Just my pussy now, isn’t it?”

You nod. Fast. Moaning so loud it echoes off the walls.

He leans in closer, one knee pressing your thigh further open, and starts fucking you like he’s starving.

Perfect rhythm.

No mercy.

Skin slapping, mattress creaking, wet sounds of your soaked cunt being filled again and again.

Your mouth falls open. Your body writhes.

And still—he holds your wrists down, never letting you grab him, never giving you that last bit of comfort.

Because Jay doesn’t fuck you for your comfort.

He fucks you to remind you who you belong to.

And when he leans in to whisper in your ear, voice wrecked with control?

“You don’t get to hold me. I hold you. Now fucking cum on it.”

And you do.

Harder than you ever have.

Wrists shaking. Throat tightening. Pussy clenching around his cock like it never wants to let go.

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renedvds · 1 day ago

Text

selfless sacrifice . KANG DAE-HO

PAIRINGS: Kang Dae-Ho / PLAYER 388 x fem!reader

WARNINGS: death . squid-game-related violence . dae-ho lives past hide-and-seek . english isn't my first language, so i'm so sorry for any mistakes . maybe ooc? dae-ho and the reader were already in a relationship . mostly proofread but there might be mistakes .

AUTHOR'S NOTE: wtf was season 3

what if dae-ho survived the starry night? he has you, his support, but his injured ankle becomes a problem when he has to face the next game.

word count: ≈3.1k

"You okay?" You asked, shifting your gaze to your lover with concern. "Take a deep breath. Tell me if you need a break."

You swung Dae-Ho's arm around your shoulder and helped him make his way to the next game. With an injured leg, the chances of him surviving a game that requires physical activity were extremely low. All you could hope for was for the next game to be mentally challenging and not physically draining.

"I'm alright," he replied and forced a smile. Trying to push away his anxiety, he asked. "What do you think the next game will be?"

You chuckled, the sound coming out as strangled and breathless. As much as you wanted to be the one to protect him this time, it was hard to hide the strong anxiety. "I don't know. Maybe they'll make us play in pairs."

"Like what? Cards? Marbles?" He asked, a soft smile on his face, enjoying the small, genuine moment between you and him. "It's very unlikely, though. The last game was in teams."

"Hurry your asses up! There are people who actually care about the prize trying to make their way to the next game!" Player 100 shouted from behind you, giving Dae-Ho a slight push to make him go faster.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at the usual idiocy coming from the man, "Don't worry about him."

You made your way up the stairs with Dae-Ho to the next game. Once you made it to the top, you leaned back against the wall to watch your breath and then checked on Dae-Ho's ankle.

"Hey! I'm supposed to be the one checking on you," he said, making you shift your gaze from his ankle to his face. He continued. "I don't want to drag you down in the next game. What if it's a free-for-all arena? I'm basically just extra weight."

His attempt at a joke didn't humor you. Instead, it fueled your irritation. "Stop talking about yourself like that. You're not extra weight, and I'm gonna carry you with me everywhere I go."

"You're so selfless," he commented. "Put yourself first once in a while. I wouldn't blame you if you choose to leave me behind, really."

Your conversation was interrupted by the loud creak of the doors opening. You instinctively wrapped a protective arm around Dae-Ho and walked forward to the next game, anxious with the uncertainty of survival.

Once the crowd dispersed around the platform, you look a long minute to inspect the arena. Your stomach revolted with a sense of nausea, anxiety, and adrenaline as your eyes landed on the thin bridge and the long fall down.

"Shit!" You cussed and looked at Dae-Ho. "Dae..."

You couldn't finish your sentence after your eyes found his hopeless gaze. His eyes, devoid of their usual spark, now held nothing but emptiness as they stared down at the cliff, then at the bridge, then at the dolls holding the rope, and then at you. His breath hitched in his throat, and soon enough, he was panicking.

"[Y/N]... [Y/N]," his voice cracked, his stutters blocking his throat. His trembling, sweaty hand found yours, desperately trying to cling onto you to soothe his anxiety. "I'm not— I... I'm not going to make—"

"Dae-Ho!" You shouted, trying to pull him away from his panic. "Don't you dare think that way. We don't even know what the game is!"

As if on cue, the speaker announced the rules and introduced the new game. It should've been obvious from the start, and yet you decided to cling onto the small glimmer of hope that this wasn't the actual game.

However, your hope shattered right after.

"Welcome to the fifth game," the robotic voice announced, devoid of any emotion or sympathy for the players. "The game you will be playing is Jump Rope."

Dae-Ho let out a soft "no..."

"You must cross the bridge as you jump over the rotating rope and get to the other side within twenty minutes. You may decide on the order amongst yourselves."

The voice dimmed and the players murmured amongst themselves. Dae-Ho stumbled backward and let go of your hand. You immediately turned around and watched as he slumped against the bench. You couldn't stand watching him suffer like this.

"Dae-Ho," you called, gently approaching the panicked man. He held his hands close to his ears to block out noise and kept his knees close to his chest, slowly rocking back and forth in despair.

The song began, blocking out your words with the loud chant of the dolls as they swung the rope.

"Knock, knock. Who's there? Your little friend. Come on in."

"Little friend, little friend. Turn around. Little friend, little friend. Touch the ground. Little friend, little friend. Touch your toe."

"Little friend, little friend. Now away you go."

Jun-Hee sat down next to Dae-Ho, cradling her baby in her arms. Gi-Hun glanced at him and then shifted his gaze to the former pregnant woman and her child.

"How's her ankle?" You asked, but once Jun-Hee lifted her pants and showed her violet bruise, you had to look away and bite the inside of your cheek in horror.

"The game will be over in twenty minutes," Gi-Hun spoke. "You can leave the baby until then and then pick it up afterward."

You were about to agree with player 456 until a masked guard interrupted. "All players must make it across the bridge within the time limit. Any player who fails to cross within the time limit will be eliminated."

"She has a baby! The baby is not a player!" You tried to reason, but another guard had pointed a gun at your head. Dae-Ho slowly placed his hand on your shoulder, and once you locked eyes, he begged with his gaze for you to stop it.

"Everyone here is a player," stated the guard, brushing off the inhumane treatment toward the newborn.

All you could do was give Jun-Hee an empathetic look and mentally wish the best for her. Your attention shifted to Dae-Ho again. Time was limited, the clock was ticking. He couldn't stay in the same place for twenty minutes without moving an inch.

"[Y/N], I'm not making it out alive..." he whispered, his voice cracked as his throat closed up. He could already feel his tears pool his eyes, threatening to spill like an endless cascade of sorrow. "I can't— I can't do it— You have to go and... and leave me here... I'm sorry, I'm a coward. I really am a coward..."

"No!" You shouted but softened your tone after he flinched. "Dae-Ho, I'm not leaving you!"

You wrapped your arms around him and he returned your embrace immediately. He continued, "I can barely limp with this leg. [Y/N], I don't wanna die yet..."

"Stop talking," you shushed him, fearing that if he said another word, you'd collapse and give in to your death. You didn't mind the disgusted stare from player 100 or Nam-Gyu's fight with Min-Su. All you wanted was to comfort your lover, who was far too deep into the idea of dying alone.

"I promised you that I'd get us both out of here," he began. You tried to shush him again, but his pained voice remained persistent. "You... You told me that you wanted to raise two cats... together... in a new house..."

You let out a choked sob and tried to distract yourself by watching Nam-Gyu desperately reach for Thanos' cross necklace. However, a second after he opened the cross, he stayed still. The rope knocked over his feet, and he fell to the endless cliff, welcomed by the harsh surface of the floor, coating the beautiful yellow flowers with crimson.

"Player 124, eliminated."

The speaker's voice was like a hammer constantly hitting your head. You let go of Dae-Ho right after hearing the elimination and placed your hand on his shoulders, shaking him to bring him back. "Wake up! We have to go! Now!"

"I said I can't go!" He shouted back.

Nevertheless, you offered your hand.

Dae-Ho looked at your hand and then at you. "[Y/N], this will not work..."

"Try it," you said. Finally, he accepted your hand and stood up. "Try to jump without my help."

Although you might've appeared to be confident in your decision, you tried to best to hide your anxiety and shaky voice from him. If you gave out the slightest bit of uncertainty, he might give up on trying.

After all, he is only trying to protect you. To save your life by letting go. He always wanted to die heroically.

Dae-Ho took a deep breath and steadied himself on his feet. As he prepared himself to try his first jump, you heard a slight commotion and turned your head around, watching Gi-Hun cross the narrow bridge with Jun-Hee's baby.

"I can't watch this!" You closed your eyes shut and turned to Dae-Ho, opening your eyes again to look at him.

The room erupted into cheers when Gi-Hun made it to the other side. You sighed in relief, feeling a new sense of hope. If Gi-Hun could do it with a baby in his arms, perhaps Dae-Ho could do it with an injured leg.

But he failed to land properly after his jump, his foot almost twisting as he fell to his knees. You helped him get up to try again - you were not leaving him behind.

However, every attempt turned futile. Players were already crossing the bridge, the timer had gone down twelve minutes, and you and Dae-Ho were still trying to find a way to cross.

"I can't do it," he stated. You couldn't hear any more hope in his voice - he'd already given up, devoid of his usual charming, cheerful encouragement. "[Y/N], you need to go. You can't wait for me and die. You can't die here!"

Always the kind-hearted soul he is, he was ready to stay behind while you crossed to the other side. The fall was long, survival chances were low, players were already being pushed off, and in the blink of an eye, you had only six minutes left to escape death.

With such a small amount of time, you turned to look at Dae-Ho for help - except he didn't, because he only gave you one option, and it was to leave him behind.

"I can't..." Your heart ached with unimaginable pain, the mere thought of leaving Dae-Ho threatened to slice your heart open. You didn't want to let go. You couldn't. He was all you had left in this survival game. Without him, who were you even living for? He was your last glimmer of hope, the thread that kept you from snapping.

He took a deep breath and cupped your face with his hands, trying to steady his breath to make himself look good for you. "H— Hey, hey, hey, listen. I'm scared too, okay? I really don't wanna die..."

His voice cracked. Despite his fear, despite the uncertainty, he wanted to be your encouragement and shield even during his last moments - all to protect you, all to finally be useful for once. "But if I don't get to dream of a tomorrow, I want you to live yours."

"What about those promises we made?! I don't know what to do— Nothing will be the same for me! I can't live without you!" You snapped, your tears rolling down your scrunched face, bubbles of saliva forming in your mouth as your throat closed up, unable to let you choke out any more words. "I can't do it! I'm going to fall! I don't want to do it!"

"Then live for yourself, not for me!" He wiped your tears as he let his own fall free, vulnerability showing with his voice. He softly pressed his forehead against yours and held your hands. "You can do it, okay? Look at me."

Your eyes finally met his. He forced a smile and gently wiped your tears with his thumb. You leaned into his touch, trying to savor every moment with him, knowing that this was the last time you'd feel his touch. Dae-Ho's hands slid around your body, trapping you in a protective embrace as he gently rocked you side to side.

His head rested on top of yours. He whispered, his voice weak and trembling, "You can do it."

Four minutes left on the clock, and many players still hadn't made it to the other side yet. The jumping rope swung in an endless loop of doom above the abyss. Dae-Ho kissed the crown of your head before letting of of you.

And that's when you knew your time with him was up.

"[Y/N]," Jun-Hee called. You turned your head to her and noticed she'd been watching you from a distance, her own eyes welling up with tears. "Go."

She wasn't going to be able to make it to the other side either.

Dae-Ho gave you a small tap on the shoulder, and you knew it was time. You approached the doll and fixed your gaze on the other side, trying to ignore the dangerous distance you had from the floor, and the way your legs trembled like jelly, and the way your vision blurred, and the sudden revolting nausea in your stomach, and your unfocused gaze, and your labored breathing, and the way your heartbeat echoed in your ears, and—

"Breathe," Dae-Ho said from behind you, his tone soft and gentle, trying not to scare you. "I know I can't give a lot of advice, but... just... don't look down, okay? Look forward. Pretend you're just jumping rope. The best way to cross is to block out any distractions."

You let out a weak hum to acknowledge his words and finally stepped forward. The rope swung again. You jumped in time, keeping your balance by only a little. Three minutes left on the clock.

On the other side, Gi-Hun shouted and screamed at the remaining players. He waved his hand and helped the ones closer to him to get to safety.

You advanced slowly with a steady balance. Your arms were spread out, your body slightly to the side, and you had your stronger leg in front of the other. "The best way to cross is to block out any distractions," you mentally tell yourself.

You blocked out that voice and labeled it as a distraction. The more you remembered Dae-Ho was on the other side, helpless, the more your motivation drained out. Two minutes and thirty seconds left. You were the second last player on the bridge.

Dae-Ho and Jun-Hee cheered for you on the other side, and their voices brought a small comfort in the moment of adrenaline. You jumped across the small opening in the bridge and reached the second part, earning loud cheers from your lover. One minute and fifty seconds left.

"Jump! Come on!!" Gi-Hun shouted and extended his hand. You stayed jumping in place to glance at the clock for a few seconds. One minute and twenty-five seconds.

You could do it. Player 333 was in front of you. He jumped forward a few times and ran towards the other side once the distance was narrow enough. He grabbed Gi-Hun's hand and reached safety.

Player 333, pass.

Just you and once minute left on the clock. Gi-Hun extended his hand again. "[Y/N]!! Come on!!"

Finally, you sprinted towards the other side and grabbed Gi-Hun's hand. You tripped on your step and fell to the floor. It took a moment to register what had happened until the speaker voice affirmed:

Player 067, pass.

"YES!! [Y/N]!!" Dae-Ho grinned from the other side. You stood up and approached the edge of the platform, but you kept a safe distance. All you wanted was to see Dae-Ho.

"I did it!!" You shouted, a joyful smile forming on your lips. "Dae-Ho, I did it!!"

Jun-Hee smiled at you and gave you a thumbs-up, to which you replied with a bigger smile and another thumbs-up. You were safe, you made it.

The moment of euphoria died down as the countdown began. In the blink of an eye, one minute turned into twenty seconds. Dae-Ho's and Jun-Hee's twenty seconds alive.

Your smile dropped and your heart clenched. You were so lost in the adrenaline of victory that you had forgotten that Dae-Ho was still on the other side, away from safety.

"Dae-Ho!!" You shouted. "Come! Try it! Do it, please!!"

Jun-Hee stepped up. Gi-Hun begged her to cross the bridge, but with only ten seconds left, she gave you and player 456 a sorrowful gaze and stepped off the platform. It happened so fast you barely got time to process.

Player 222, eliminated.

On the other side, Dae-Ho met your gaze, his own tears rolling down like a never-ending waterfall as he smiled softly at you, knowing he'd be gone soon, dying a heroic death. "[Y/N]! Thank you for everything!"

And in the next second, a bullet fired and the speaker announced.

Player 388, eliminated.

You dropped to your knees, your eyes fixated on Dae-Ho's lifeless body falling down the long cliff. His body hit the ground, the sound haunting your ears.

Some may call it selfless. Others will deem it as idiotic. But to you, his sacrifice meant everything. Because after all, Dae-Ho only wanted to protect you. After failing to protect other people in his life, other participants in the game, and other players in the rebellion, his sacrifice proved what his cowardly actions couldn't.

And you? You lost your lover. You lost your future with him. But you earned a promise.

If you couldn't live for Dae-Ho, you had to live for yourself. And deep down, you know that's what he wanted, too.

extra note: im so embarrassed of my writing this is probably so corny💔

@renedvds on tumblr . 2025/06/30 . do not repost or translate my work .

#dae ho squid game #squid game #squid game x reader #dae ho x reader #dae ho x you #dae ho x y/n #kang dae ho #kang ha neul #squid game 2 #squid game 3 #jun hee #gi hun squid game #squid game x you #squid game x y/n #squid game season 3

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