Jun 28, 2025
🌸👶🩸
seen from Vietnam
seen from Russia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Egypt
seen from Austria
seen from Netherlands
seen from Austria
seen from United States
seen from Austria
seen from Germany
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United Kingdom
seen from China
seen from Austria
🌸👶🩸
blood stained kisses
kang dae-ho x f!reader
synopsis: the sensitive guy needed a stress reliever. fortunately, you needed the same.
warnings: 18+ smut with plot. MDNI! established relationship. semi-public. borderline somnophilia. oral (daeho receiving). p in v unprotected. voyeurism(??) vulgar dialogue. praise & degradation.
after the rebellion, your heart feels like it is racing a million miles per hour.
you survived the assault thanks to you following hyunju when she needed the bullets from daeho.
daeho, as cowardice as his actions were, didn't make you upset like it did with everyone else.
especially with yong-sik and gi-hun.
right now, you gave the sensitive player some space.
ten feet away, you stood beside hyunju and yong-sik looking down at geum-ja giving gi-hun sweet potatoes.
"look, I know. I know that you were trying to save us all," geum-ja sighs. gi-hun doesn't look at her, zoning out at the ground knowing that more lives were lost because of his failed act of heroism.
149 continued, "you were trying to punish the bad guys and put an end to all of this."
your hands got shaky, remembering the amount of gunshots that were fired during the rebellion. you remember the colorful staircase turning into grey through gunpowder and red from blood.
"I'm sorry," hyun-ju speaks up.
you look at her, confused, knowing that hyunju couldn't have handled it on her own.
"don't be-" you spoke up, nearly mumbling as you put your hand on hyunju's bicep.
daeho is munching on sweet potatoes in your peripheral vision, but you don't look at him.
again, you weren't as upset as everyone else. you hid your hands in your jacket sleeves as you looked back and forth between gi-hun, who's locked up to the bunk, and daeho in the corner of the room.
in your mind, you just wished that daeho would've stayed behind if he couldn't fight.
you continued, "you have nothing to apologize for hyunju. I should've been the one who grabbed the ammo." you swallowed.
yong-sik spoke up, "I agree. it was all dae-ho's fault," the man points his water bottle towards daeho's direction, "I saw it, my mom saw it, everyone else saw it. dae-ho came to pick up the magazines , but when he was about to leave, he just sank to the floor."
yes, he was right. however, to entirely blame daeho was unjustified.
"he sanked to the floor because he was traumatized." you kneeled down to the floor, on geum-ja's level while looking at gi-hun.
"its still his--"
"yong-sik, would you have been able to go upstairs and do what daeho did?" you snark.
"enough." geum-ja cuts you off.
yong-sik’s scowl deepened, his voice dripping with disdain, “defending your boyfriend won’t bring any of them back, y/n.”
you bristled, your hands clenching into fists.
“dae-ho didn’t think up this stupid rebellion in the first place, yong-sik!” you snapped, your words cutting through the tense air.
a heavy silence followed. your eyes flicked toward gi-hun, who was still locked on the bunk, his jaw tight and his gaze burning with anger. your heart sank as realization hit....you’d just thrown gi-hun under the bus as you yelled at yong-sik.
gi-hun was the one who’d come up with the rebellion, the plan that had crumbled and cost them so much.
your eyes widened, guilt creeping in as you confessed how you felt about the rebellion, but you pushed it down.
you glanced over at daeho, sitting alone in the corner, quietly eating his sweet potatoes. he looked small, hunched over, like the weight of everything was crushing him. you couldn’t leave him alone like that any longer.
scoffing at yong-sik, you turned and walked over to daeho, sitting close enough that your front brushed against his.
the small act of physical comfort felt like the least you could offer.
“how’re those sweet potatoes?” you asked softly, trying to pull him out of his head.
he nodded, his voice barely a whisper, “very sweet.”
you smiled lightly, but it faded as you sighed.
“dae-ho, i don’t blame you for anything,” you said, your tone gentle but firm.
he didn’t look up, just kept picking at the food. after a moment, he spoke, his voice low and shaky.
“i knew gi-hun’s plan was stupid. i… i regret even being part of it.” his eyes glistened, tears welling up as he continued, “but jungbae… upstairs…”
daeho's voice cracked, and he couldn’t finish the sentence.
you reached out, wrapping an arm around him, your fingers threading through his long, raven-colored locks. your man's warmth grounded you, even as your own stress about the next games ripped at your insides.
look at how tightly young-mi hugs geum-ja :( and hyun-ju's little pats... I still get gooseflesh :(
dying at gyeong-seok walking towards them like 😃🧍🏻♂️
+ a little inhun gif because I had to crop them lol
I could be a good mother
And I wanna be your wife
tg: кукузолото
Something Like Her
synapse: in a game built to kill, y/n didn’t expect to feel anything—until she meets hyun-ju, a former soldier with steady hands and a guarded smile. she’s only ever dated men. but there’s something about hyun-ju—something like safety, like defiance…like possibly love.
pairing: cho hyun-ju x female!reader
contains: objectification, transphobia, awakening of sexuality, death
a/n: i can’t believe I haven’t written for my queen until now. im so in love with her and dae-ho. btw i just found out the doll in red light green light is actually saying “the mugunghwa flower has bloomed”
PART TWO
. . .
The air is too still.
Hundreds of players stand frozen on a faded, oversized playground while the mechanical doll at the far end slowly turns her plastic head. Her pigtails sway unnaturally. Eyes scan with robotic calculation.
“무궁화 꽃이 피었습니다,” the doll’s robotic slowly hums. (Mugunghwa Kkoci Pieot Seumnida)
Everyone bolts forward in scattered chaos — some with desperation, others with deadly focus. Y/N sprints across the dirt like her life depends on it, because it does. Her heart slams in her chest like a hammer against rusted metal.
She’s halfway to the finish line when it happens.
Her shoe catches a ridge in the ground — a root, maybe. She stumbles, just slightly — a breath, a blink.
She’s going to fall as the doll’s phrase slowly comes to an end.
Time slows. There’s a flicker of acceptance in her chest — the quiet knowing that she’s about to die. Then—
A hand wraps around her wrist, firm and unshaking.
Player 120.
“I’ve got you,” a soft voice whispered urgently, barely audible over the gasps and screams around them.
She moves with the precision of someone who’s been forced to live carefully. In one graceful motion, the arm now around her waist as she yanks Y/N upright, steadying her just as the doll’s head turns and the eyes flicker over them, she looks up at her savior just in time.
They freeze.
The woman holding her was tall, with dark hair that framed her face like curtains. Her expression was sharp — serious — but there was something warm in her eyes. A quiet strength. Her painted fingernails were digging into Y/N’s jacket from where she held on, unmoving, as still as a statue.
They don’t move.
The doll scans. Pauses. Moves on.
Gunshots crack in the distance. Someone screams.
But the two of them are alive.
And then the doll is humming again.
Hyun-ju lets go. Y/N’s knees tremble, but she runs towards the finish line. They both do.
. . .
The cold hum of the fluorescent lights overhead buzzes like a warning. The vote is over. The decision made.
They’re staying.
Despite everything — the blood, the screams, the slaughter masked as a children’s game — the majority chose to keep playing. Desperation outweighs fear.
Y/N sits stiffly on the edge of a steel bunk, staring down at her hands. They still tremble a little. Not from the game — but from how close it came. One misstep. One second slower. She would’ve been—
“Dead,” she mutters under her breath.
She looks around the room. Players avoid eye contact. Some cry quietly. Some already lie down, curling into themselves like children. The air smells of sweat and despair.
Then her eyes find Player 120.
She’s sitting by herself, legs folded. Calm on the outside, but her fingers pick absently at the corner of her sleeve. A mask of composure, but Y/N knows that kind of loneliness. The kind that keeps you apart even in a crowd.
Without thinking, Y/N gets up and walks forward in the line. She grabs a fresh dosirak box, still faintly warm, and an extra water bottle.
Then she crosses the room — quiet, unsure. “Hey.”
Hyun-ju glances up. Her eyes soften just a little.
Y/N holds out the food. “I figured you probably didn’t feel like getting in line.”
A pause. Hyun-ju looks from the box to Y/N’s face, then takes it gently. “You didn’t have to.”
“I know.”
“But you did.”
Y/N shrugs, trying to mask the awkward warmth building in her chest. “You, uh… saved my life earlier. Felt wrong not to say thank you properly…Well, as much as I can in here.”
Hyun-ju smiles — not wide, but real. “You’re welcome. Just don’t die in the second round, alright?”
“That’s the plan.”
They sit there for a moment — not talking, not eating, just existing side by side in the strange quiet after violence. Somehow, this tiny act of kindness feels like rebellion in a place designed to strip away humanity.
Y/N finally exhales. “You always look out for strangers?”
Hyun-ju opens her water bottle, thinks for a beat. “No,” she finally says softly. “But you didn’t feel like a stranger.”
And for the first time that day, Y/N smiles too.
The tin of the dosirak clicks softly as Y/N peels it open, the scent of lukewarm rice and kimchi filling the air between them. It’s far from appetizing, but it’s something. They eat in silence for a few minutes, the tension slowly bleeding out of their shoulders like a muscle finally relaxing.
Hyun-ju glances sideways at her. “You eat like someone who grew up fighting for the last bite.”
Y/N huffs a faint laugh. “You’re not wrong.”
A pause.
“What’s your name?” Hyun-ju asks.
Y/N looks up, a little surprised. “Y/N.”
“Y/N,” Hyun-ju repeats, as if tasting it. “It suits you.”
Y/N tilts her head, eyes narrowing curiously. “You say that like you’ve known me longer than a few hours.”
Hyun-ju smiles softly. “Some people don’t need long.”
Y/N looks down, hiding the ghost of a smile. Then— “You?”
“Hyun-ju,” she says. Her voice lowers slightly, like she’s weighing whether to give more.
Y/N nods, then decides to take the chance. “I… didn’t know what to expect when you pulled me up earlier. I thought maybe you were just one of the quiet types.”
“I used to be a sergeant,” Hyun-ju says, the words spilling out without ceremony. “Special Forces. Never really had the luxury of being loud.”
Y/N’s eyes widen slightly. “Wait, really? You—were military?”
“Was.” Hyun-ju sets her spoon down. “I got discharged a while ago.”
“What happened?”
A beat. Hyun-ju’s eyes flick to the floor. She’s quiet for a moment. When she speaks again, her voice is steady, but heavy. “…I told them I wanted to transition. Live openly. As myself.”
“And?”
“And that was enough for them to throw me out.”
Y/N doesn’t respond right away. She just watches her. Takes her in. Finally, she says, “Well… for what it’s worth and from what I saw, they lost a damn good soldier.”
Hyun-ju lifts her eyes to meet hers. There’s something unspoken in her gaze — surprise, gratitude, maybe even a flicker of hope “Thanks,” she murmurs. “Most people just stare or whisper.”
“Screw ‘most people.’” Y/N says. “You pulled me off the ground today like it was nothing. Like you’d done it a hundred times before. Everyone here would’ve let me fall and die. But not you. You’ve got more courage in your little finger than half the people in this room.”
Hyun-ju chuckles. “Don’t make me like you too fast.”
Y/N grins, leaning back on her hands. “Too late.”
The fluorescent lights buzz above them, but for a moment, they feel a little warmer.
Not friends. Not allies. Not yet.
But something’s beginning. And in this place — this hell — beginnings are rare.
. . .
It was a new day which meant it would be time for the second game. As the remaining stepped into a new room, it was announced they all had five minutes to get into groups of five.
Y/N blinked, heart already racing. Five. It wasn’t enough time. Not for strangers. Not for trust.
People scattered like frightened rats, some sprinting toward familiar faces, others grabbing whoever was closest.
She looked across the sea of bodies and saw Hyun-ju standing alone.
Their eyes met.
And then the crowd surged.
Y/N moved fast, weaving between players, reaching out—but a shoulder slammed into hers before she could get to Hyun-ju.
“Hey! Group of four!” a man barked nearby. “We need one more!”
Y/N turned hopefully, but his expression changed as he looked her up and down — not with camaraderie, but with something that made her skin crawl.
Like she was for sale.
Another man beside him grinned, elbowing his friend. “She’s cute. Bet she’ll keep us warm at lights out.”
Y/N’s stomach twisted. She stepped back without a word.
“Suit yourself, sweetheart,” the first one called after her. “You’ll be begging to join us when the clock runs out.”
She ignored him and turned to the next group.
Three women. One man.
All eyes shifted as she approached.
“Already full,” one woman said coolly, before she could even speak.
Another offered a sympathetic shrug, but didn’t fight it.
Y/N moved on. Fast.
Around her, people were forming up in uneven circles, huddling in tight, wary clusters. She spotted someone waving others over — until Hyun-ju approached.
The shift was immediate.
One of the men in the group looked her over judgement in his gaze and sneered. “No, we’re good.”
Hyun-ju’s jaw clenched. She said nothing. Just nodded once, stiffly, and walked away.
Y/N’s chest burned. She turned sharply and forced her way through the throng, her voice rising. “Hyun-ju!”
Hyun-ju looked up — and this time, didn’t hide the relief in her eyes.
Y/N reached her, breath short. “Guess we’re the leftovers.”
Hyun-ju smiled faintly. “Maybe we’re just the ones who haven’t forgotten how to see people.”
Y/N didn’t reply. Instead, she grabbed Hyun-ju’s hand and held it tight. “Then let’s survive together.”
They stood shoulder to shoulder, the crowd moving around them like a tide. Cold glares and cruel whispers bounced around the room, but neither flinched.
1:04… 1:03…
Y/N and Hyun-ju stood firm in the corner of the room, back-to-back against a tide of rejection, judgement, and half-formed alliances. The chaos was beginning to quiet — not because people had settled, but because options were running out.
Then they saw them.
A woman in her late 70’s or 80’s — slight, trembling but proud — moved through the thinning crowd with a young man beside her, maybe mid-fourties’. He gripped her hand tightly, knuckles white, his face a mask of worry as he scanned the room.
Player 149 and Player 007. Mother and son.
Their steps hesitated as they neared Y/N and Hyun-ju’s duo.
Y/N felt it too — the uncertainty, the desperation. She took a half-step forward, voice almost shy.
“Would you…?”
At the same time, the older woman spoke.
“Can we…?”
Their mirrored hesitation said everything — four outcasts finding one another at the final hour.
Hyun-ju glanced at the mother’s hands — worn, calloused, trembling not with fear but with determination. The son, silent, nodded in solidarity.
Y/N opened her mouth to respond—
“You insolent fools!” The voice sliced through the air like a blade. Player 044 marched toward them, her eyes gleaming with something unhinged. “You made me come to you when you should’ve come to me.” Her lip curled. “I should just slay you with my knife.”
Silence fell between them like a dropped stone.
Y/N looked at Hyun-ju. Hyun-ju looked back — deadpan, blinking once in disbelief.
Is this really happening?
But the clock was still ticking.
00:12… 00:11…
“We need five,” Hyun-ju said under her breath, gaze not leaving 044. “We don’t have the luxury to be picky.”
“Can we survive her?” Y/N murmured.
“We’ve survived worse.”
Ten seconds.
Without another word, 044 joined them, uninvited but technically valid.
The group of five now stood complete — a mismatched portrait of the rejected, the forgotten, and the unhinged.
And as the countdown hit 00:00, the doors slammed shut behind them.
There was no turning back. Not from each other. Not from the game.
. . .
They made it.
Somehow — through near falls, and the frantic clatter of childhood games turned deadly — they made it.
The Six-Legged Pentathlon had pushed them to the edge: five games in rapid succession — Ddakji, Flying Stone, Gonggi, Spinning Top, Jegi — all tethered together by cuffs on their ankles and coordination. Every misstep pulled someone else down. Every second counted. There was no room for ego, no time for hesitation.
But they worked as one.
Clumsy. Fast. Breathless. Alive.
Y/N hadn’t realized just how tightly she’d been clenching her jaw until they crossed the finish line and she felt her teeth ache from the pressure. They were one of the first groups back to the dormitory — bruised, limping, and victorious.
Now, the room hummed with exhaustion and leftover adrenaline. Murmurs. Shallow breathing. The occasional dry cough.
Y/N sat on the cold steel steps of their bunk, her back against the frame. Beside her, Hyun-ju sat close, their knees nearly touching. Neither of them spoke at first. They just breathed. Together.
It wasn’t peace — not in the real sense. But it was a moment without panic, and that was rare enough to feel holy.
Then, finally, Y/N broke the silence with a small, raspy voice: “You know…” Hyun-ju turned her head, a slow tilt of curiosity. Y/N smiled — crooked and tired — as she looked down at her own scuffed shoes. “I’d pay every last won I have to see you slap Player 044 again.”
That caught Hyun-ju off guard. A pause. Then the faintest smirk tugged at her lips. “She was panicking.”
“She was being a maniac,” Y/N countered, letting out a breathy laugh. “I mean, yeah, we were all freaking out, but she could’ve gotten us killed.”
“So I slapped her.”
“So you slapped her,” Y/N echoed, grinning now. “And it was beautiful. Like, poetry. Especially after all the shit-talking she did during each of our games.”
Hyun-ju chuckled under her breath — short and quiet, but real. “Next time, I’ll let you do it.”
“Oh no,” Y/N said, nudging her knee against Hyun-ju’s playfully. “That was your moment. I’d only ruin the art of it.”
They both fell into silence again, but this time it was warmer. The air between them carried something unspoken — not quite flirting, but not far from it either.
Y/N glanced at Hyun-ju from the corner of her eye. The soft curve of her lips. The way her hands rested calmly in her lap, even after everything. That quiet strength again. That stillness.
Y/N didn’t mean to stare. But she was. Again.
Hyun-ju was sitting there, the dull overhead lights casting soft shadows over her features — strong, serene, undeniably beautiful.
Y/N’s eyes traced the curve of her jaw, the slope of her neck, the calm set of her mouth.
She felt the flutter again. That weird flutter in her chest. Like excitement dressed in nerves.
It wasn’t the first time.
She pulled her knees up to her chest, burying her face against them briefly as if to block out the heat rising in her cheeks. Get it together.
She’d had boyfriends before. Some serious. Most forgettable. Some good in bed. Most…selfish.
But none of them ever made her feel this aware.
Aware of every glance Hyun-ju gave her.
Every silence they shared. Every time their fingers brushed just a little too long when passing a bottle of water.
It wasn’t like falling for a guy. It didn’t hit with testosterone and friction and predictability.
No — this was quieter. Deeper. It crept in slowly like warm water in a cold tub — and now she was in too deep to tell when it started.
And maybe what shook her most was the way it felt so natural. Not like a mistake. Not like confusion.
It just…was.
She found herself listening for Hyun-ju’s voice when others were talking. Watching her mouth when she wasn’t speaking. Feeling something twist — something good — when Hyun-ju smiled at her, like she was letting Y/N into some secret world no one else was allowed in.
Is this a crush?
Y/N let her head fall back against the cold metal of the bunk frame, staring at the ceiling like it held answers.
God, what even is this?
But the thought didn’t bring panic.
It brought the ghost of a grin. A thrill that buzzed beneath the exhaustion of survival.
Y/N looked at her again.
Hyun-ju was watching her now — calm, soft-eyed, curious.
Y/N looked away quickly, heart thudding.
Too fast. Too loud. Too hopeful.
She didn’t know what this was becoming.
But it made her feel alive. And in a place built to kill everything human, that felt like a kind of rebellion.
Hyun-ju glanced toward Y/N with the beginnings of a smile — small, quiet, but warm enough to thaw ice. She looked like she was about to say something.
But the moment was interrupted.
“Listen,” said Player 149, settling across from her on the bunk like they were old friends in a public park instead of prisoners in a death game. “Can I ask you something?”
Hyun-ju nodded politely. “Yes.”
“When you were playing Jegi… why didn’t you want us to look? Are you shy?” There was no mockery in her tone, only curiosity — the kind older women sometimes carried, blunt but not malicious.
Hyun-ju didn’t flinch. “It’s not that,” she said calmly. “I’m just… not completely done.”
Y/N’s eyes flicked up at that.
“What do you mean?” Player 149 asked, genuinely puzzled.
Before Hyun-ju could answer, her son — Player 007 — shifted uncomfortably. “Mom, stop asking questions. You’re being nosy.”
But Hyun-ju only chuckled, her fingers folded in her lap. “It’s alright,” she said. “I still have some procedures left. I just didn’t want people to stare at me.”
The air stilled slightly.
“What procedures?” Then Player 149 blinked and, after a beat, gestured vaguely toward Hyun-ju’s chest, speaking without judgment — more like someone puzzling out a riddle. “Oh… so that’s how you got those too? I knew they were too big to be natural—”
“Mom, please,” 007 groaned, gently tugging at his mother’s arm.
Y/N’s gaze drifted, unbidden, to where the older woman had pointed.
She hadn’t really looked before. Not closely. Not in that way.
But now, her eyes found the soft curve of Hyun-ju’s chest, how it rose and fell slowly with her breath. And for one suspended second, her thoughts blurred.
Then realization slammed into her.
She was staring.
Her cheeks flushed instantly, blood rushing to the surface like a guilty alarm. She yanked her gaze away, jaw tightening in shame. The last thing she wanted was to make Hyun-ju feel watched, like a spectacle — especially after what she’d just confessed.
Stupid. Don’t do that.
Y/N’s heart thudded unevenly. She hugged her knees closer to her chest, face half-buried, trying to will the heat from her skin to vanish.
It wasn’t about curiosity. It wasn’t about shock. It was something else. Something complicated. Something real.
The truth was… she found Hyun-ju beautiful.
Not despite her being trans.
Not because of it.
But alongside it.
Hyun-ju was beautiful in ways that couldn’t be boxed in or labeled — not by surgery, not by old habits, or what she thought she understood about herself.
And if her body was still in transition… that didn’t matter.
Because what Y/N felt — this pull, this gentle ache in her ribs every time Hyun-ju smiled — wasn’t about biology. It wasn’t theoretical.
It was personal.
God, Y/N thought, pressing her fingers to her burning cheeks. This is really happening, isn’t it?
And yet, despite her embarrassment, a flicker of something stayed alive inside her: Warmth. A kind of wonder.
Mandatory "all is fine" drawing after the mess that was season 3 of Squid Game
And all of them!!