Hi hii, My name's Yuichi, or you can call me Yui for short
I'm 18 years old, currently a first-year university student. I start writing again a few months ago but not as often as I used to since I've been busy studying (╥﹏╥)
English is not my first language, so I might make some mistakes in future posts.
I'm still learning how to put the scenes in my mind into words.
Even though I'm not a full-fledged writer, I still wanna make this "about me" post, and to put all my works here (even if it's only a few stories)
I'm open to answering any questions, but I won't take requests. I'm sorry
But if you have any stories that need a sequel, I'd be happy to write one, as long as the original author gives me their approval.
If you take request by any chance, i was wondering how the Saja boys would react if reader was trying to learn the soda pop choreo but fails cause no rythum and two left feet even for a demon ?
I'm so sorry for the late reply. I'm sorry again for saying i don't do request. Since i'm busy with my studies and i've only learn how to write recently.
But i tend to make sequels for some story in my free time, with the original writer permission. If you have a certain story that you want to have a sequel, i'd be happy to write it when i have free time.
@sajakissed came up with a story involving plushies
@yuichi-cat came up with a separate “sequel” with individual reactions
With those two on the mind, as well one more inspiration out of this, I got my own personal sequel involving the poly!saja boys and the reader 😌
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PLUSHIES FOR EVERYONE!
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I’m also editing even though I posted already. It’s just me throwing some things in and out, so forgive me if there’s differences you didn’t see before
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If I move away now, would they notice anything?
I sigh. Of course they would. It’s them, my boyfriend, my very cute but can be so damn needy boyfriends. Five boyfriends that are famous to the Korean world. Boyfriends that are just so happened to be enemies to a certain girl group that I admire anyway… and, of course, boyfriends who have a habit on crashing their events for their own attentions.
Including witnessing “betrayal” from their lover, giving away homemade plushie versions of the girl group.
I don’t even want to check my social, knowing that it had to be trending like crazy, showing the Saja Boys getting jealous at Huntrix — in their perspective. When the reality is, it’s betrayal on not creating the plushies to them first.
I groan aloud among the empty sidewalk, just feet away from the massive home we all preside in.
“They’re never gonna let this go,” I mutter. No matter how long I’ve been out since escaping out of their sights, I knew they were back home. Waiting for me. Ready to chew me out as they all so expressed in the last group chat given…
I give a notice towards the sunset sky, and I wish I could fly out of here since the hole was a failure in sucking my existence away from their hurt sights.
‘This wouldn’t have happened if they didn’t crash the damn signing… Again!’ My mind reminds me. Partially in this situation is their fault, acting as though it’s their right to steal Huntrix’s fans by invading their planned events for their own benefits. They may be hurt, but betrayal is actually far-fetched; who said just because I made plushies to the girls doesn’t mean I wouldn’t give them any, too, in the future?
The fact that I thought of the girls when making them.
And only the girls first.
How would I feel if someone I love gives a special gift to someone else, something that I’ve never received before, whether or not it would be something I like?
… Okay. Being hurt has its reasons in this.
I sigh through my nose, adjusting the bag now holding the signed Huntrix items inside as I keep going towards the entrance.
Minutes away before meeting five demons in the wait.
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“Darling~”
Immediately my back pins against the elevator door once reached the top floor. Already I wish I was in a hotel now, letting the boys relax for, say, a month. Cause nothing screams horror story than to come across a massive living room with its windows curtaining away any source of light outside – and allowing only five sets of gold to burn at my skin like bullets ready to shoot.
‘Why and how the hell am I dating these guys?!’
“Took your sweet time, didn’t you?” Baby’s voice gives a chill that has my body wanting to sink into the ground myself. It doesn’t help how his grin is wicked, and not in his usual fun way.
“Why stand over there still?” Romance’s soothing voice returns – soothing as getting immediate hypothermia from an ice cube, even with his own sweet-looking smile – as he stands and gestures a spot. “Come. Sit, dear.”
It may be seen as a gesture, but it’s a command.
They weren’t going to let me out of here now that I’ve entered the land. I’m in their control now…
All the reason to stay pinned and shake my head rapidly.
“Aww, don’t be scared.” Abby then joins. “We just want to talk~”
‘That wasn’t talking back at the signing event’ is what I wish I could say if my mouth didn’t feel clutched shut. Soon, another body rose after, and soon he takes steps towards me.
I don’t tremble and sink further. I know he wouldn’t hurt me. None of them would. But still, having the leader come forth got my stomach in painful twists.
“N/A.” I shiver at the sound of my name. You can actually feel the gravity from it, how everyone’s affected. His steps come to an end, probably seeing the results. With a moment of his eyes close, he opens again. The gold was gone, and back are his deep browns.
And, honestly, that’s worse.
“Please, we just want to talk about what happened,” Jinu then requests, his words bearing a warmth that has my legs straightening up… and the hurt that got my back off the elevator door. A quick glance from his left side, and I can see the rest of the gold eyes gone.
All five now wait for me on what to do next.
I sigh again. I can’t with these boys, I swear.
“Fine. But I’m turning on the lights.”
The room now lit and my presence near the couch, I decline the gesture to sit. Romance mutely asking for my hand, however, is acceptable now that he’s calmer now. At least with the cool factor, because his hurt is right at my face even when looking down as he sits.
“Oh, darling, we mourn over this matter. Your hands bear a God’s gift of such creativity but, alas, you expose such talent towards Huntrix than to us. Why is that, dearest?” He expresses, rubbing his thumbs on the back of my hand. Maybe his own sense of grounding over his emotions.
“It wasn’t to hurt you, I can tell you that much,” I answer, my gaze soft to not let my own guilt show.
“Then where’s ours?” Such a statement would come from Mystery than from Baby, the last to speak in the group. “How come we never received plushies first?”
Always the blunt one even when soft spoken, making this more difficult to not grovel into my own emotions in front of them.
Closing my eyes, letting my mind be temporarily free from the environment of disappointment and hurt, my hand slipping out from Romance’s hold as I take steps for my own grounding, knowing they are watching my every move.
“The real question is, why did you crash another Huntrix signing event? Again?” I direct back at them, a hint of my frustration starting to leak out.
“Don’t change the subject,” Baby groans.
“How can I? None of this would be happening if you didn’t show up, but you did.” I cross my arms. I feel myself not stopping the frustration from coming out. They were acting childish, making it seem like I’m the bad guy entirely. “You not only interrupted another signing, but also acted very childish in front of everyone — which the fans don’t mind, but that’s due to not knowing the real reason.
“If you think you’re the only ones hurt in this case, you’re wrong.”
“Oh, c’mon!” Abby cries, standing up. I’m not intimidated by his stature. This time. “How were we supposed to know you’d be there? And why still give them plushies before us?”
“Part of your hurt is your responsibility of actions.”
“So, you’re saying you planned the gift long before?” Baby joins, his arms out in exaggeration.
“Doesn’t matter if I did or not.”
“But you did,” Mystery argues.
“And it still hurts!” Romance reminds, and I glare. My frustration comes further.
“That’s not my fault! I am not in control of your emotions!”
“It’s not just emotions, it’s what it represents!”
“Try being in my shoes then!”
“So you like them more than us now?!”
“Are you trying to twist my words around?!”
“Is it twisting if it’s true?!”
“Boy—!”
“You know we’d love a plushie from you an infinite time more than the girls, so why give them before us?”
“It’s not a competition!”
“Darling, please—”
“Are you seriously going to be ridiculous?!”
“Ridiculous?! This is betrayal!”
“Your claim, not mine! I’m still human, and I got my own choices!”
“Then how come we’re not a part of it?!”
“ENOUGH!”
I forgot that Jinu remain quiet throughout all of this. My lungs work a little more from all that emotional release, the tension still present but under his control now. I’m not even part of the group, but even I get intimidated by how much of a leader Jinu is. How dedicated he is on every choice done, including what happened today.
I take a little more inhales to calm myself further as the quiet settles in.
“You’re right.”
I blink, and attention goes direct towards him, wanting the answer for ‘Why?’.
“We did go to the signing to mess with them, just as much as you were there to show your love for the girls. You are human, you do have your own choices, and we shouldn’t have been so disrespectful on what happened.”
Jinu then stands, and with the center of attention… He bows.
“I’m sorry.”
My eyes widen. That’s… not what I expected.
Maybe with Huntrix, but definitely not with me! And it doesn’t help that at my right, Romance does the same. “My dearest apologies.”
“I’m sorry.” Abby follows.
“I’m sorry.” A mumble but still done by Baby.
Mystery bows last, but I still hear him. “I’m sorry.”
…
Why do they make it so hard to be annoyed with them?
Silence lays over us as a thick blanket that can suffocate if lasting on too long. No one has ever bow that low to me – ever! My heart’s racing at the sight, at the respect given that I couldn’t stay frustrated for long.
I want to, but I can’t. Not with them like this. Not when, I know, they can be stubborn and cocky, childish and crazy, sweet and considerate, careful and honest, mindful whenever means necessary…
“Argh!”
I disturb their bowing without seeing as my hand rests on my face, the other on my hip. I feel like a scolding mom than a five-way girlfriend to these crazy demon boyfriends. I truly gone insane in falling in love with these guys. How can someone like me manage even one let alone all five?!
I can feel their gazes on me. Waiting. Wondering what I was thinking.
These boys are going to be my end.
With a finale deep breath, lowering my hand… I then bow.
“I’m sorry, too. What I did… It wasn’t intended to hurt you. I just…” It’s so hard to explain with guilt rests in your brain, trying to focus with eyes shut. “I was thinking about them, and only them when making those plushies. I… I just wanted to show my admiration to them, and I know you guys are dueling against them, but I still love what they do.”
I straighten up, vulnerability getting me close to choking up once back in eye contact. “That shouldn’t make me any less of a fan with you guys.”
I rather deal with painful needle shots repeatedly than to cause them unintentional pain. Over dramatic or not, it can be seen as betrayal—I’d see it as betrayal if I was in their shoes, whether sounding silly or not.
Just goes to show that we all have our doubts and fears within. And they shouldn’t be kept hidden from each other.
“I’ll make you plushies,” I declare. “I swear. Even ten times better than what I’ve done for the girls. I’ll come with something better, way more attractive, something that can—”
“No.”
I blink. “No?”
Jinu comes forth, his hands on my shoulders once close. “We’re not forcing you to make them. We shouldn’t have before, and we’re not now.”
I blink again, then make a soft scoff. “What? You’re not forcing me. I really want to make them, truly.”
“You shouldn’t, not after how we acted.”
I sober, giving a genuine smile. Glad to see they understand. “It’s okay, though.”
“No, it isn’t,” he says, almost feeling like a finality as he pulls away if not for the new idea in mind.
My shoulders relax as the idea blankets my mind. “Then let’s have a deal.”
All five gaze at me with equal confusion. “A deal?” Jinu repeats.
“Yes, a deal. Seeing you understand how your actions were affected as well as mine were, I’ll offer you this.”
Now or never.
“I’ll make the plushies if you leave the Huntrix girls alone… for one year.”
The results are expected.
“What?!”
“A year?!”
“You’re kidding!”
“Darling, reconsider!”
“A whole year?” Jinu clarifies, his shock continuing as I nod.
“Not a big deal. You can do that, right?” I ask.
“One month.”
I blink twice at the sub-offer from the leader. Then I cross my arms, ready. “Six months.”
“Two months.”
“Five months.”
“Two and a half.”
I deadpan. “Seriously?”
He didn’t break. Jinu is serious as the boys behind him waiting for my counterattack.
I sigh. “You boys, I swear…” I mutter to myself then face him. “Three months. Final offer. Nothing more, nothing less. One month for each girl,” I add in as a little joke.
And yet Jinu looks back at them, all bearing a look that has them really think about this offer. Even Baby is mindful on the matter.
I raise an eyebrow. ‘What is so important for them to bother those girls so much?’
“Alright.”
Jinu’s voice gets me out of my thoughts. While bearing a cool face, I can feel the defeat lingering out. “For three months, we’ll leave them be.”
I lower my arms down.
“Deal?” I then bring out my left hand.
Reluctant, Jinu still gives his left in return. His hand firm as we shake. “Deal.”
His eyes widen a bit, not expecting my pull until my free hand catches the back of his neck, giving a short kiss on his lips. A finality of the deal – and an excuse for wanting a kiss.
Pulling away, his cheeks went a little pink, too late to hide the bashful results once turning away, before I head towards Romance, bringing my hand out again. “Deal?”
Romance, quick to switch his surprise with admiration, grasps my hand, a hold to treat my hand as delicate glass. “Deal.” Short and sweet his kiss, him smiling once pulling away.
Abby’s hold was firm but careful by his strength. His kiss bore his own tinge of open happiness.
Mystery’s hand was cold. But his kiss got me warm, his hair brushing at my forehead as a near add-on.
Baby, however, hesitated, glancing at my hand as though expecting to see a lie within my skin. Eventually, though, he sighs and grasps. His firm hold settles his emotions, agreeing without further delay. “Deal.” While short, our kiss calms him down, sobering as he pulls away.
I may get annoyed with them at times, but that doesn’t take away my love for them. Not even with the group hug we all gather in after I hug Baby, smiling with happiness on their love, everything now settle.
“I should,” I start as we back away, breaking the hug, “I should get started on it.”
“Oh, no, Darling,” Romance disagrees, careful on not wanting to break the fragility in the air. “It’s been a stressful day and it’s already late out.”
I shake my head fondly. “Nah. Rather start now while I can,” I declare before heading to my room.
“You can reconsider!” Abby calls out.
My hand wave behind. “It’ll be fine.”
“Wouldn’t you rather rest first?!” Jinu follows.
“I’ll be okay!” I reply, already at my doorknob with the distance between us. “It’s not my first time doing an all—” Nighter…
What. The. Fuck?
I can’t even see the whole room, the living room’s lighting creating a total shadow in my bedroom. But I know my room well enough in the dark. And I know my anger is already boiling, my eye twitching at the reality at hand.
My room is not supposed to look like this.
“BABYYYYYY!!!”
“I told you I would buy them!”
“Did you had to buy the whole factory?!”
“I don’t know where that is!”
I flick on the wall switch, and my jaw drops. It looked better in the dark. “Baby!”
“At least you have extra materials!”
“My bed is gone!”
“That’s fine! Just sleep in ours!”
I point at the mountain of materials, my head whipping towards the youngest Saja. “How much did this cost?”
That got his words swallowed, his lips puckering as though sucked on a bad lemon and eyes darting to break contact.
My eyes dart to the other boys. Cringe and trying to act natural, all attention – even Mystery, facing the wall – is not on me.
The bubbling escalates.
“How – much – did – that – COST?!”
Their bodies may be taller and muscular than mine, but my voice got them all wanting to curl up into a ball to avoid my impact. Eventually, Baby brings up on finger in question.
“If I tell you, would the deal be off?”
Jinu and Mystery face plants. Romance and Abby give off mute hisses.
I may be over exaggerating, but I’m pretty sure all eight of my nine lives are gone and my hair is now white, falling out as my back towards the ground. Thank goodness for thick, plush carpeting.
“Why are you like this?!” My voice croaks on purpose, too exhausted to shout again when my throat is aching.
“… Love you!”
My eye twitches. The only sense of sanity I have left.
Cause I know, for certain, these boys are definitely going to be my fucking end.
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Two and a half weeks later
“Alrighty now! Let’s give it up once more for our special guests: the Saja Boys!”
Immediately the crowd cheers for the bowing and grinning men.
“It’s just a shame that this day has to come to an end,” the host confesses, an awe of disappointment from the crowd. “But, at least we had fun together—”
“Wait a minute!”
Attention went to the second host, missing for a while only to return with a cart. Curiosity fills the room at the sight of five arranged rectangular, bowed packages resting side by side.
“What do we have here?” The first host asks.
“Well, we just received delivery for our dear Saja Boys!” The second host announces, the curiosity escalating to not only have the crowd in vocal wonder but the Saja Boys to look upon each other. “All that’s left behind with them is this card.” The host picks up the folded item, opening and reads aloud: “‘From your biggest fan! Love to the Saja Boys forever!’”
“Well, how considerate,” Jinu comments, all five heading towards a package with a tag sticking their names out.
“Well, boys?!” The first host asks, the crowd in a chant already — “Open the box! Open the box! Open the box!” — “What are you waiting for? Open them up!”
In amusement by the excitement, all five brought up the lids and look inside.
And, immediately, their reactions broke through their cool expressions.
Wide eyed, Romance covers his mouth.
Abby’s mouth forms an 0 without sound.
Jinu’s struck, almost frozen in shock if not for the growing grin.
Mystery covers his eyes further with his shoulders shaking.
And Baby, the only member with sound even when commonly quiet, barks out in laughter. “What is this?! Look at this!”
By the camera shot as he takes it out of the box, immediate awes and glees covers the room, the hosts just as expressive when seeing the object: a plushie of a teal cat, bearing an exact replica of Baby’s “Soda Pop” outfit, holding a cool expression while sucking on a lollipop. Even bearing his hairstyle and yellow hat with the ears sticking out!
“This is adorable!” Abby’s cheer follows with his own pink bear plushie wearing his hair and outfit while flexing with a smirk. His shirt rises, getting a hint of the “abs” underneath.
“My goodness!” Romance brings his lighter pink fox plushie look-a-like to his cheek, a few girls screaming as he copies the plushie’s mimic of a wink and finger heart.
Mystery shakes his head fondly, grinning at the purple dog plushie with the lone flopping ear, while also bearing small paws out and a cute snarl that looks as though growling.
“I… I just can’t,” Jinu responds, covering his grin while staring at the grey lion with his replica black “mane” plushie, putting on the pink glass he wore prior. Then blinked at the lone paw with the print “Press Me”.
“Wait, does anyone have this on theirs?” He then asks, gesturing the button that got all four glancing over, then checking.
“Yup.”
“Got one.”
“Me too.”
“Same.”
“Oh, a Press Me button!” One of the hosts announces next to Jinu. The crowd also “ooohs” in respond. “What could this mean?!”
“Press at the same time and see what happens?” The other host suggests, the Saja boys staring among each other in silent agreement.
“One,” Jinu counts. “Two. Three!”
Silence takes in a second after they pressed.
Then—
“You’re all I can think of! Every drop—”
Laughter from the boys and cheers from the others almost mute away the high-pitched “Soda Pop” from the plushies, the audience clapping along as they “sing” the chorus before ending.
“Oh, I’m gonna love this forever!” Abby coos, holding it close to his pecs.
“What a treasure to behold!” Romance praises.
Baby attempts to seat the plushie on his beanie.
Mystery waves the “Press Me” hand to the crowd – only to accidentally push it again. A jolt and an hand plant to the face, his ears turning red by his plushie’s sudden barking, Baby and Abby laughing their heads off before immediately checking to see if theirs can make animal sounds (They do).
“To our special fan,” Jinu then announces, a smile of appreciation on as he hold the lion plushie close. “We truly appreciate your dedication on these plushies. We will treasure them as much as every fan has offered gifts to us. Thank you from the bottom of our hearts.”
Continuing on until the end of the show, all five will only see among their shared group chat a lone message.
Didn’t want to make it too obvious. I know how fans can be even on the smallest of details. Hope you like the “sajamals”. Love you and see you back home 🥰❤️
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Inspiration along with the Octonauts and what yuichi-cat used in their sequel. Just so you can paint a picture of what the plushies look like 😁 Also, Abby’s plushie was a tiger like in the inspiration, but I changed it into a bear cub instead.
AGDJDBS OMAGAD OMG OMGG, i wrote my story with the thought of toxic and possessive (except for abby part), but this is pure wholesome, i love it so much ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
Hello to anyone reading this! As the title says, I’ll be writing a continuation of the original fic by @sajakissed, with their permission, of course. You should check her account if you haven't done it. She post everyday about Saja Boys and I love them all.
Especially how she wrote about Baby Saja.
Anyway, just a heads up: the original fic is poly Saja boys, but for this sequel, I’ll be writing them separately so I can highlight each boy’s unique charm. ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
Also, I'll be using this picture from Pinterest as a reference for the plushie.
The picture is not mine, I found this on Pinterest, with the account name: Amber
Mystery
When the Saja boys got back at night, Mystery cornered you in the hallway.
"W-what's wrong, Myst?" You ask, despite already knowing the answer.
"Where. Is. It." He growled, It doesn't sound like he's asking.
"You're gonna have to be more specific-" You start, but he grips your cheeks with one hand as he forces you to face him.
Uh oh, he's mad.
"Where's mine? Or did you only make it for those hunters?" He growled as I could see his eyes starting to turn golden through his bangs and his marks appearing on his arms.
"Wait wait wait wait, I didn't know you were gonna be there, I swear, I didn't know you planned to crash the event-" You try to explain. He just stares at you.
"Uhm, just give me some time, I promise your plushie will be done by tomorrow-" You try to bargain for time, but he cuts you off as he lean closer to you.
"The fact that you made plushies for those hunters first pissed me off," he whispers. The low rasp of his voice sends a shiver down your spine.
Your face burns red instantly. "Myst- you're too close-"
"Make. It. Now." he demands, cutting me off, his tone final, absolute. "I want to see the progress."
You swallow hard, nodding because saying no feels impossible under his intense gaze. Before you realize it, he pulls you onto his bed, his long legs bracketing yours, his presence pressing in around you. Your hands tremble slightly as you pick up the needle again, trying to focus on the plushie.
Mystery settles behind you, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder and his arms wrapping snugly around your waist. The warmth of his body and the closeness of his breath against your neck make it impossible to ignore him. Every time you slip the needle through the fabric, you can feel his steady breathing against your skin, as though he’s counting each stitch with you.
Minutes stretch into what feels like hours. You’re hyper aware of his heartbeat, of the way his thumb strokes absent-minded circles over your hip, of how utterly trapped you are-and yet, not entirely unwilling.
Finally, the last stitch slides into place. You exhale shakily, lifting the finished plushie in your hands. “Here… it’s done.”
He takes it carefully, like it’s something fragile, and examines it with a seriousness that makes your stomach twist. His silence drags on until you blurt out nervously, “It’s not as good as your merch, but I did my best-"
You stop short when you feel him nuzzle into your neck, warm breath ghosting over your skin as he sets the plushie down beside you. “It’s perfect, love,” he murmurs, his voice low and certain. “I’m gonna take it everywhere with me.”
You flush red, stammering, “Y-you’re kidding…”
But he wasn’t.
The next morning, he walked out with the plushie tucked under his arm like it belonged there. The fans noticed immediately-by the end of the week, they’d named it Mystery Jr. and flooded the fan café with edits and jokes.
During tour, the rest of the Saja boys spammed your phone with proof: Mystery napping on the plane with the plushie clutched to his chest, Mystery sitting in rehearsal with it propped on his lap, even Mystery refusing to let the stylists move it from the makeup chair.
It became a whole thing. The pride adored it, the members teased him mercilessly, and Mystery? He just smirked and said, “They’re just jealous. Mine’s one of a kind.”
Baby
After you managed to escape, your phone kept buzzing from the group chat, especially Baby, who kept calling you, but you never answered it.
Though the last message from him sent shivers down your spine.
You wait at a cafe for a few hours before going home, only to find baby sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone as he waits for you.
"So uh, Baby, about the plushie... you're not mad anymore...right?" You ask, nervous.
Without saying anything, he motioned you over. You didn’t think twice until you were suddenly pulled into his lap. His grin was soft, but something in his gaze made your stomach knot.
“Do I look upset, sweetheart?” he asked, voice sugar-sweet.
“Y-yeah… you do,” you admitted under your breath.
He chuckled low in his throat, pulling you tighter against him until escape felt impossible. His grip on your chin was firm, forcing your eyes to meet his.
“You’re wrong, sweetheart,” he whispered, the softness in his voice at odds with the sharpness in his stare. “I’m not upset. Just… disappointed. You made something for them instead of me?” His pout twisted into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Tell me you don’t like those Huntr/x more than me. Go on. Say it.”
You froze, his fingers still gripping your chin. “I-It’s not like that-” you tried, but he pressed a finger to your lips.
He leaned closer, brushing his nose against yours like a mock-affectionate gesture. “Here’s what you’ll do,” he murmured. “You’ll make me one. Better than theirs. Prettier. Perfect. And you’ll do it while I’m right here, watching every move of those pretty little hands.”
Your throat tightened. “I-I’m not… that good,” you muttered, trying to look away, but his hand on your chin kept you locked in place. “I don’t think I can make one better than that…”
Baby’s smile widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Oh? So you can give your best for them, but not for me?” His tone was light, sing-song, but there was no mistaking the edge buried underneath.
He let out a low chuckle, pulling you impossibly closer until your body pressed against his. “Sweetheart, I don’t care if it’s messy. I don’t care if it’s ugly. You’ll make it for me. You’ll sit there, right in front of me, and put your heart into every stitch… because it’s mine.”
Your lips trembled as you whispered, “…O-okay. I’ll make you one.”
He smirked. “That’s my good darling. I already bought everything you’ll need.” He set a basket in your lap, filled with fabrics, threads, and needles.
Reluctantly, you sat beside him and began to work. His eyes never left you-watchful, amused, unblinking.
Time slipped by in uneasy silence until finally, the plushie was done.
He took the plushie from your hands. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything-just studied it in silence, running his fingers over the seams.
Then he let out a soft laugh, almost shy, and hugged it tight against his chest. “You really… made this for me?” he murmured, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it.
When he looked back at you, his grin was still there, but softer, less mocking. “Thank you, darling. Really. I’ll treasure it.”
He pulled you into his arms, still holding the plushie close. His chin rested against your shoulder, his tone dropping into a gentle murmur. “You have no idea how happy this makes me.”
"I love you," He murmur.
"I love you too," You whisper back.
Jinu
“Darling, stop hiding behind Derpy,” Jinu’s voice cut through the hallway, steady and calm.
You pressed yourself deeper into the blue tiger’s soft side, your hands fisting into its fur. “No way,” you huffed, “You’re still mad about that plushie issue at Huntr/x’s fansign. I just know it.”
Derpy blinked at you, unbothered, while Sussie cawed from her perch on his head. And then, with all the loyalty of a soap bubble, Derpy rose to his feet and padded away, tail swaying, carrying Sussie with him.
“…Traitors,” you muttered under your breath, left standing bare in the hallway.
Jinu hadn’t moved. He stood a few feet away, arms crossed, gaze fixed on you. He wasn’t frowning, but the quiet seriousness in his eyes made your skin prickle. He didn’t need to shout or pout like the others; his silence was enough to pin you in place.
You fidgeted under his gaze. “What?” you tried, forcing a weak smile. “You’re not actually mad, are you?”
For a moment, he didn’t answer. The seconds stretched, and the weight of his silence pressed heavier than any scolding could. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, measured.
“Do you know how it felt,” he began, “watching you put so much time, so much care into something… and realizing it wasn’t for me?”
Your breath caught. He hadn’t raised his voice, not once, but guilt still crashed over you like a wave.
“Jinu, I-” You swallowed, your excuses tangling on your tongue. “I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t even know you guys were going to show up. I swear, if I had-”
“I believe you,” he said quietly. “I do. But it doesn’t change the fact that it hurt.”
Your chest tightened, stung worse than if he’d shouted.
He stepped closer, his footsteps slow, his presence calm but firm. When he stopped in front of you, his expression had softened, but the weight hadn’t gone. He reached down, brushing his fingers against yours-a fleeting touch, careful and steady, as though asking permission.
“I don’t want to force you,” he murmured, his tone gentler now. “But, darling… will you make one for me too?” His voice dipped, steady but quiet, a trace of vulnerability hidden beneath his composure.
Your throat bobbed as you stared at him. His eyes didn’t hold anger, but they carried a quiet ache that pierced deeper than fury ever could.
“…Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll make you one.”
Jinu’s lips curved into the faintest smile, warm but restrained, “Thank you,” he murmured. He gently guided you toward the couch, pulling a small box closer. “I’ve kept some fabric and thread, just in case.”
You sat down, taking the materials into your lap. The air between you was still heavy, but not in a way that pressed you down-it was weighty with unspoken words, his gaze following every motion as you threaded the needle with slightly trembling fingers.
The first stitches were slow, careful. You could feel Jinu’s eyes on you, his presence was… steady. Watching, yes, but not demanding. Just there.
Minutes passed in quiet concentration, the only sounds the faint pull of thread and the steady rhythm of both your breathing. You were just beginning to find your flow when you felt a gentle shift beside you.
Jinu leaned closer, so close you could feel the warmth radiating from him. Then, with a soft sigh, he rested his head against your shoulder.
You froze, needle poised midair. “Jinu-”
“Don’t stop,” he said quietly, his voice low, almost drowsy. His hand brushed over yours briefly before settling on your knee. “Just… keep going. I like watching you like this.”
Your face heating as you tried to refocus on the fabric. His weight on your shoulder was comforting, grounding, but it made your hands tremble even more as you stitched. Every few minutes, his breath would tickle your skin, a reminder of how close he was.
Time blurred until the final stitch slid through. You held the finished plushie up with a shaky smile. “There… it’s done.”
Jinu lifted his head slowly, his eyes softening at the sight. He took the plushie from your hands with care, his fingers brushing yours. For a long moment, he just looked at it, then back at you.
“It’s perfect,” he said simply. No teasing, just quiet, genuine gratitude. He placed the plushie against his chest and leaned forward until he kiss your forehead. “Thank you, darling. I’ll keep this with me always.”
Romance
“Darling…” Romance’s voice was velvet when he entered the room, so quiet you almost missed the strain underneath. He approached with a smile, the same soft curve of lips that usually made you melt, but tonight it didn’t reach his eyes.
Your pulse jumped. “…Romance-”
He reached you in three long strides, fingers brushing your wrist as it made you shiver. “You’ve wounded me,” he whispered, pressing a kiss against your temple. “And you don’t even realize it, do you?”
You froze. “I- what do you mean-”
He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression heartbreakingly gentle. His thumb brushed your cheek, his touch reverent, but his grip on your chin left no room for escape. “Those hunters,” he murmured. “You sewed them something you made. Something you create with these small hands.” His voice softened even further, almost mournful. “And me? Your Romance? I was left with nothing."
Your lips parted, but no words came. He looked at you like you’d betrayed him in the deepest way, and your stomach twisted.
“I didn’t mean it like that, I swear. I didn’t even know you guys were going to-”
“Shh.” His lips brushed over yours in the gentlest ghost of a kiss, cutting off your defense. “Don’t break my heart further with excuses.”
He pulled you into his chest, holding you tight enough that it made your breath stutter. His smile returned as he buried his face in your hair, “Mend me, darling,” he whispered against your skin. “With your hands. With something only I can keep.”
The sweetness of his tone was suffocating. His arms never loosened around your waist. “You’ll make me one, won’t you?” His question wasn’t really a question- it wasn't a plea, it sounded like a command. His dark eyes glittered as he pressed another kiss to your knuckles. “Say yes, and I’ll forgive you.”
Your throat tightened, guilt pressing like a stone in your chest. “…O-okay. I’ll make you one.”
Romance’s smile bloomed instantly, radiant and soft, but there was a glimmer in his eyes that told you this was exactly what he wanted to hear. “That’s my darling,” he whispered, brushing a kiss across your cheek as if sealing the promise. “You always know how to save me.”
He led you to the couch, guiding you down with a hand at your back. Before you could gather your thoughts, he was already pulling a small basket from under the table - fabric, thread, even a set of needles, all neatly prepared. “I was hoping you’d say yes,” he admitted, his voice low and warm.
You took the needle with trembling hands, your breath uneven as you threaded it. His presence was constant beside you, clingy, heavy with devotion.
As you set the first stitch, Romance slid closer until his thigh pressed against yours. “Look at you,” he murmured, his lips brushing your hair. “So talented… so precious. Every motion of your hands is a miracle.”
You ducked your head, trying to focus. “Romance, please- I need to concentrate-”
“Then concentrate with me here.” His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you against him. His chin came to rest on your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck. “I want to watch. I want to feel you while you create something that belongs to me.”
Your stitches wavered as his lips traced a feather-light kiss over the line of your jaw.
Time blurred under his constant whispers, his hand gently stroking your side, his kisses landing like petals on your skin. By the time the last stitch closed, you were trembling - from focus, from nerves, from his suffocating sweetness.
You held the plushie out with a shaky smile. “Here… it’s done.”
Romance’s eyes lit up, as if you’d handed him your heart itself. He cradled the doll with both hands, then pressed it to his chest like he could merge it with himself. “Darling… it’s perfect.”
Before you could react, he cupped your face and kissed you deeply, reverently, his voice breaking against your lips. “Thank you. Now I’ll never be without you, even when you’re far away.”
Note: I'm not that knowledgable about Romance, so his personality in this story is inspired by this post, also made by @sajakissed
Abby
You nearly jumped when a shadow loomed over you. Abby’s voice followed, half-pout, half-laugh.
“So let me get this straight… Huntr/x gets your cute handmade plushies, and me? Your boyfriend? Nada?”
You spun around, eyes wide. “Abby, it wasn’t-”
He was already crouching a little to meet your gaze, his broad frame blocking the hallway. His grin was wide, but there was a flicker of hurt in his eyes. “C’mon, you’re telling me you had time to stitch those hunters little dolls, but you couldn’t make one for me?”
You fumbled. “I didn’t know you were going to be there-”
Abby let out a dramatic groan, dropping his head onto your shoulder with exaggerated weight. “Unbelievable. Betrayed by my own partner. I could cry.” He sniffled loudly for effect, but his arms were already wrapping tight around your waist, lifting you slightly off the ground in a crushing hug.
You squirmed, half laughing. “Abby! Put me down!”
“Not until you promise,” he said, squeezing tighter. His cheek was pressed to yours now, voice dropping into something softer. “Make me one too. Doesn’t have to be perfect. Doesn’t even have to look good. I just… want one that’s mine.”
The seriousness in his tone made your heart skip.
You pulled back enough to meet his eyes. “…Really?”
Abby smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I want to carry it around. Show it off. Brag that my partner made it just for me.” Then, with a grin, he flexed his arms again like a showoff. “And don’t tell me you can’t sew muscles big enough to match these.”
You burst out laughing, swatting at his chest. “Fine, fine, I’ll make you one.”
Abby’s whole face lit up. He lifted you effortlessly, spinning you once before kissing your cheek. “That’s my baby!”
You’d just started threading the needle when Abby flopped down beside you on the couch, his weight making the cushions dip until you nearly tipped into his side.
“Careful,” you muttered, nudging him.
“I am careful,” Abby said proudly, already throwing one massive arm across the backrest behind you. “See? Not even touching you, yet.” His grin widened when you rolled your eyes.
You focused on the first stitch, trying to ignore the warmth of him so close. That lasted all of thirty seconds before his head tipped down onto your shoulder.
“…Abby.”
“Mhm?” His voice rumbled against your arm.
“You’re heavy.”
“You like it,” he teased, nuzzling your shoulder. “Besides, I gotta supervise. Quality control, you know? Make sure my plushie’s as handsome as me.”
You snorted, nearly pricking your finger. “I can’t sew if you keep making me laugh!”
Abby gasped in mock offense. “Laughing while working makes it go faster! Here, let me help.” He reached for the needle.
“Absolutely not,” you yelped, swatting his hand away before disaster struck.
“Fine, fine,” he chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender. A beat passed, then he leaned closer, whispering, “But if you need someone to test-hug it, I’m your guy.”
You tried to stay focused, but every few minutes he’d drop another line, “Don’t forget the biceps,” “You should give it my dimples,” “Bet those hunters’ plushies don’t get this much love poured in” until you were laughing so hard your stitches went crooked.
When you finally tied off the last thread and held the plushie up, Abby’s eyes went wide. He took it gently in his huge hands, like it was something precious.
“…Babe,” he whispered. “It’s perfect.”
Then he crushed both you and the doll into a rib-cracking bear hug, laughing against your neck. “Best. Partner. Ever.”
By the end of the week, he’d been spotted with it everywhere: in the van, at soundcheck, during breaks. Fans caught him on livestream propping Abby Junior up on the table beside him like a co-host. At one point, he even strapped the plushie into a spare seatbelt on the plane.
The fandom exploded instantly. #AbbyJunior trended worldwide within hours, edits and memes flooding your feed. Comments ranged from “He’s the cutest dad ever omg” to “Protect Abby Junior at all costs!!”
You buried your face in your hands, groaning. You should’ve known this would happen.
Still, when you peeked between your fingers and saw Abby’s big grin, dimples flashing as he proudly introduced “his son” to the cameras, your chest ached in the warmest way.
Finally doneee
It took so long cause of my uni classes (┳Д┳) , but I have fun writing this. I hope this makes sense to the original story since I did it seperate, not Poly. (ᵕ—ᴗ—)
Also English is not my first language so please comment if there's any typo, thank you.
I hope you like this story, thank you for reading this ヾ(＾ ∇ ＾).
A/N: So, I think it's safe to say, some people vote with their 🍑 and you know what? Fucking respect. Smut is queen ✨️
Summary: Five doors stand before you. Each door will either lead you to your salvation...or your doom.
CW: emotional smut, p in v, multiple orgasm, oral sex (m!receiving), rough sex, cream pie, mental spiral, self harm
<- PREV || FROM THE BEGINNING
The truth sat heavy in your throat, thick and suffocating, refusing to be born into sound. It clawed at the back of your tongue, but the moment your lips parted, the will to speak withered away, shrivelling until there was nothing left.
You raised your eyes to Jinu's eyes, which were once warm, brown, and human but are now internally illuminated by a steady, slow pulse of molten orange. The glow breathed with him, in and out, each flicker stronger than the last. His skin, once unmarked, yielded to the creeping stain of his heritage. Purple veins threaded beneath the surface, and the taint crawled outward, claiming him without mercy.
The pounding in your chest wouldn’t stop. The air burned to inhale. Fear pressed against your ribs, but grief was there too, buried beneath it, grinding like glass in your lungs.
You raised your hand. Your fingers trembled as they brushed his cheek, and his body stilled as though you’d frozen him in place. Then, slowly, he leaned into your palm. The shift in his breath was so slight, so fragile, it felt like you were holding the last flicker of him before the darkness swallowed it whole.
Your forehead rested against his. The tears had stopped, but the world stayed blurred and hazy, the edges running like smeared ink.
“Jinu.” His name escaped you as little more than a breath, weighted like a prayer.
“My love,” he answered, clear and certain, the words pressing into your bones until it hurt to stay here, until it hurt to keep looking at him.
Your lips quivered. You tried to smile. It faltered, breaking apart with a wet, brittle laugh, a sound too thin to survive the air between you.
“I missed you.” The words cracked as soon as they left you, and fresh tears cut hot lines down your skin. Your lips hovered over his. “Please… don’t stop.”
Something jolted through him. His muscles coiled, his breath stuttered, and his gaze locked on yours with an intensity that felt like being gripped by the throat. The orange in his eyes consumed what little brown remained until there was nothing human left.
“Jinu,” you said again, voice trembling, another tear slipping free.
The marks bloomed across him faster now—purple and jagged, spreading like shattering glass, each fragment cutting deeper into the man he used to be.
His hands framed your face, gentle enough to break you, and then his lips were on yours. Once. Twice. Again and again, each kiss more urgent than the last, as if he could smother the truth between them.
When he pulled back, his voice was rough, close to breaking. “I promise… you’ll be safe here. With me…” The promise bent, warped, turned sharp as his lips stretched wider, the curve of his mouth pulling into something that was no longer entirely human. “For all eternity, priestess. I’ll keep you safe right here.”
You felt like something deep inside you gave way. At first, it was soft, like the sound of thin ice breaking under your feet, but it got worse and worse until it felt like nothing was holding you together.
You nodded, humming low, and closed your eyes.
He pushed you back, covering your bare form with his heat. His arm braced beside your head. The weight of him was all around you, the smell of him, the burning of his skin. You could no longer see the Jinu who once stood steadfast at your side.
The blunt, swollen head of his cock pressed hard against your soaked entrance, his hips grinding just enough to make you feel how much you were already straining to take him. The heat radiating from him made your thighs twitch around his waist. “A reunion,” he muttered, voice thick and guttural, his breath hot against your lips. He pushed forward, not with patience, but with the cruel slowness of a predator savouring the first bite. Inch by inch, your body was forced open for him, your slick stretching to wrap around every ridge, every throbbing vein. “To us… once more.”
Your gasp broke into a ragged cry as your back arched. He filled you deeper and deeper until the base of him ground against your swollen folds, the heavy weight of his cock throbbing inside you. Your walls clenched desperately around him, trying to adjust to the unbearable heat, but he wasn’t giving you time. He stayed buried to the hilt, chest rising and falling, like he was holding back from devouring you whole.
The faint warmth in his eyes was gone. Now, it was burned away by the raw hunger twisting his features. His lips peeled into a grin that was nothing but teeth, a dark chuckle rolling from his chest like it was pulled from something older and far less human.
His hips tore back and slammed forward in one brutal thrust that punched a sharp cry from your throat. The pleasure was raw, jagged, threaded with pain, and it only made him groan low and deep as if the sound of your hurt fed him.
His hands—once human—clamped down on you, claws digging into your flesh, holding you in place as if you were prey that might try to run. The bite of pain bloomed hot across your shoulders, the sharp sting swallowed by the molten wave of pleasure that followed each thrust.
He pulled out to the head, then drove back in with a snarl, hips crashing into you, grinding his pelvis against your clit with every punishing stroke. Your legs opened wider, your body betraying you, welcoming the brutal rhythm.
The sound of your slick cunt echoed between you, each wet slap loud and shameless. You could feel the thick crown of him pounding at your cervix, every thrust a hard, deliberate claim.
“I’ve been waiting,” he growled, the words barely human, vibrating low in his throat. “Waiting to fuck you again, priestess.” His hips snapped faster, each stroke so deep it left you gasping, your fingers clawing at the bedding for something to hold on to.
The pressure in your belly coiled tight, unbearable. “J-Jinu—” His name broke in a moan as your body locked around him, your orgasm hitting like a surge of white heat. Your walls convulsed, clutching him in greedy pulses, but he didn’t relent. He fucked you harder, through every tremor, through your breathless sobs, using your spasms to wring more pleasure from you.
The wet squelch of your cunt was filthy in your ears, your slick dripping down to coat his heavy balls. With a rough growl, he tore himself from you, leaving you empty and trembling. His cock stood hard and flushed, smeared with your cream, twitching with every beat of his pulse.
He dragged his tongue across his lower lip, gaze crawling over your heaving chest before dropping to your glistening, fluttering cunt. The hunger in his eyes was no longer just lust. It was possession, the look of something that had claimed you and would never let you go.
He manhandled you like you weighed nothing, flipping and dragging you until your chest hit the sheets and your knees sank into the mattress. A sharp tug on your hair yanked your head back, your breath catching in your throat. His other hand hooked hard under your hip, hauling you up, and then he drove his cock back into you with one brutal thrust that punched the air from your lungs.
The shock lit up your spine, sharp and electric, forcing a yelp from you that melted into a long, needy moan. The new angle had him so deep and tight, it felt like he was splitting you open. Your ass slapped against his hips with every savage stroke, the force rocking you forward only for him to drag you back by your hair, keeping you right where he wanted you.
He bent over you, pressing your back into a deep bow, until his other hand slid under your chest. Claws grazed your skin before he found your nipple, pinching and rolling it between sharp fingers until you whimpered.
“It’s… too much—” The words came out half-sob, half-plea, but he didn’t stop.
He yanked you upright until your spine pressed to the solid wall of his chest. His sharp teeth grazed your ear, his breath fanning hot across your skin. “You can take all of me,” he growled, his voice dropping into something primal. “You always have.” He drove into you with a grunt, hitting your g-spot so perfectly your mind emptied, every thought evaporating until there was nothing but him and the aching, pulsing need between your legs.
Both hands moved to your breasts, kneading them roughly, squeezing until your nipples ached. The thick head of his cock pressed and rubbed over your g-spot again and again, the pleasure winding tight inside you. You bit your lip, choking on a gasp, your stomach clenching as another orgasm built dangerously close to the first.
His hand slid down your belly, fingers finding your swollen clit and circling it with maddening precision. You jerked, thighs trembling, every nerve screaming from the overload. Your hands clawed at his arms—thick, hard muscle under your fingertips—trying to anchor yourself while he fucked your cunt and teased your clit at the same time.
It was too much, too quick, and before you knew it, you shattered with a cry, heat flooding through you as wetness spilled down your thighs. The pleasure was so sharp it made your vision blur, your body shaking against his.
A low, breathy chuckle rumbled against your back as you sobbed from the intensity. Then he shoved you forward, pressing your face into the bed. Your hips stayed high, helpless, and his grip tightened on your waist before he slammed back into you.
The scream that tore from your throat morphed into a shameless moan, saliva slipping from the corner of your mouth. The world blurred at the edges, every sense narrowed to the brutal rhythm of his cock driving into you.
The sound of skin smacking skin filled the room—whether from his hips pounding against you or his palm coming down to spank your ass, you couldn’t tell anymore. Everything was heat, sound, and sensation, until you were floating, weightless, carried on another crashing wave of raw, mindless pleasure.
Your lips curved into a dazed, fucked-out smile, trembling as his cock stretched you to the limit, dragging over every sensitive ridge inside you. Each deep thrust rubbed your raw, fluttering walls until you were shivering from overstimulation, the pleasure so sharp it felt like your body couldn’t contain it.
“My love… my love,” he groaned, his voice breaking into something guttural and dangerous. His thrusts turned erratic. Two brutal slams knocked the breath from your chest before he buried himself to the hilt, locked deep.
You felt him swell inside you, the thick, insistent pulse of his cock twitching as he spilled himself, the molten flood spreading through you in slow, decadent waves. Your spine bowed, nails curling into the sheets, the fullness and heat so intense it made your vision haze.
When he finally slid out, your walls clenched desperately around nothing, the gush of his seed leaking from you in thick, wet dribbles down your thighs.
Before you could even catch your breath, he shifted your body, brushing your hair back to see your face. His eyes burned like suns too close, too bright to survive, and his voice was a low, feral rasp. “More.”
Then his cock was in front of you, glistening with your combined release, thick and flushed, still half-hard. Your mouth opened before you could think as the earthy, musky, intoxicating smell of him hit you. You licked him clean like something starved, swirling your tongue around the head, savouring the taste of him and yourself in one filthy mouthful.
He thrust into your mouth even before he’d fully hardened again, his pace shallow but hungry, his length thickening against your tongue. You swallowed around him greedily, the slick heat of your throat coaxing him back to full, aching hardness.
Your pussy was still lazily dripping with his cum when you leaned back, spreading your thighs wide and pulling your swollen folds apart with trembling fingers. The mess between your legs glistened under his gaze.
“Please,” you breathed, your voice shaking, your hole fluttering at nothing. “Fill me again… keep me full forever.”
Something inside him snapped. His two thick, claw-tipped fingers pressed against you, enveloping the air with the obscene squelch of his own cum. You tipped your head back, throat bared, moaning as he scissored you open, the stretch deliberate and cruel.
“Look at you,” he growled, his voice curling low and dangerous. “You gave your heart to me without hesitation… and now you’re nothing but my perfect little hole to ruin.”
His palm ground against your swollen clit, sending a violent shudder through your body. Your legs trembled, your cunt clenching desperately around his fingers, milking them for more.
When you looked up at him, eyes glassy, you smiled—bright and airy despite the filth dripping down your thighs. “More… more…” you whispered, the words spilling out like prayer.
“If you drown in me,” he murmured, pressing in deeper, “there’ll be nothing left of you but mine.”
You cried out, your body tightening around his fingers, only for him to pull them away suddenly.
The loss was a knife, but it became something better when he shoved his cum-coated fingers past your lips, pressing them down against your tongue until you moaned around the taste.
The heavy, hot crown of his cock nudged your folds before slamming forward, splitting you open in one brutal thrust. He fucked your mouth with his fingers while pounding your cunt with the thick, relentless drive of someone intent on claiming every inch of you.
Every thrust pressed his length so deep it felt like he was rearranging you, and every push of his fingers in your mouth tasted of your own submission. Your mind floated, untethered, lost entirely to him.
You weren’t just being fucked. You were being devoured, body and soul, until there was no space left for anything but Jinu.
But, even in a place of eternal pleasure, there were moments where the haze thinned...moments to breathe, to feel the silence press in.
When your eyes fluttered open in that timeless void, you turned your head to find Jinu sleeping beside you. The calm of his bare chest rose and fell, but the rest of him… was entirely swallowed in his curse now, every inch blackened and crawling with the diseased markings.
Between your thighs, the tacky drag of drying seed clung to your skin, a grim reminder of what had been taken, what you had given.
Your body felt hollow when you slipped off the bed, each step on the cold floor pulling you further from warmth. The statue stood in the centre of the chamber. The priestess’s stone form, where her face was long since torn away and nothing but a jagged void where divinity once looked back, remained.
You reached out, fingertips brushing the weather-worn stone. Maybe you wanted grounding. Maybe you wanted forgiveness. Instead, tears began to well unbidden.
And then the voice came.
That cruel, venom-laced whisper.
“You had a duty.”
“You failed.”
“You traitor.”
The air itself seemed to blister against your skin. You staggered back, knees buckling, hands clamping over your ears as though you could shut it out. The words wrapped around you, tightening, repeating, repeating, repeating until they became your only air.
You shut your eyes, but the memories came anyway. A flash of agony searing through you. Jinu’s hands slick with blood—your blood—your gaze locking with his just before everything went dark.
Over and over. The betrayal bloomed again and again in your mind like petals of rot unfurling.
Jinu betr—
The thought was ripped away by a sudden cackle. High-pitched. Unhinged. Your spine stiffened before you realized—
It was you.
You were the one laughing.
A crack splintered inside you, loud and jagged. Painful and yet... intoxicating.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” The sound scraped your throat raw.
Tainted.
Defiled.
Your skin shifted, veins blooming with black corruption. The same curse that swallowed men whole now crawled over you like a lover’s hand.
You, the priestess.
The light of your people.
Their hope.
Now.
Extinguished.
You could taste the metallic tang of ruin as you laughed harder, shoulders shaking, nails lengthening into blades.
You had given your heart. Again. Again. And for what?
You turned to the statue’s faceless visage—empty sockets where eyes should be, lips eroded into silence.
No grace.
No god.
No salvation.
Your blackened hands flexed, claws catching the dim light. The whispers pressed tighter into your skull, dripping poison and truth in equal measure. You laughed harder to drown them, but they only grew louder—THE TRUTH, THE TRUTH, THE TRUTH—until you felt you might rip your own head apart.
“My love…?”
Jinu’s voice cut through the static, slicing straight into your madness.
Love.
The word didn’t sound right anymore. It scraped in your ears like broken glass, soft at first, then shrill and cutting.
Did he really?
If he did… then—
No.
No, no, no, no, no.
“You… love me, right, Jinu?” The sound of your dry, cracked voice startled you; it shook like your throat had broken. Your tears streamed faster, blurring him into nothing but shape and shadow. “You lo–love me… right?”
A breath.
Then you laughed once more.
Too loud, too sharp, spilling like bile from your chest until it burned, until it scraped at the back of your throat, until your ribs felt ready to snap from the force of it.
He betra—
“AHHHHHHHHHHH!”
It ripped out of you like you were being skinned alive from the inside. You didn’t know whose scream it was—yours, his, or some other thing that had taken root in your head.
Your claws rose without command, curved black and gleaming, and drove into your eyes. Once. Twice. Again. And again. The wet, muted thunk of each puncture mixed with the rush of your own breath. Pain tried to exist, but it was smothered beneath the pounding pulse in your skull, the whispering static that flooded your mind.
You didn’t need to see.
The priestess statue didn’t see.
The priestess statue didn’t speak.
The priestess statue didn’t think.
You didn’t need sight.
You didn’t need words.
You didn’t need thought.
All you needed was the belief.
The belief that he loves you.
Now.
Still.
Always.
You could hold that, cradle it, worship it. If only you cut deep enough to hollow out everything else.
So you kept going.
Skin peeling beneath your claws, warm wetness slipping down your cheeks like new tears. Your body shuddered with each rip, each loss, each piece of yourself you left on the cold floor.
The whispers grew louder—truth, truth, truth—and the laughter tried to drown them out, high and unhinged, until you weren’t sure if it was your mouth moving or if the sound came from somewhere beneath your skin.
The darkness thickened, swallowing shapes, swallowing air.
You knelt, swaying, hands slick, breath ragged.
Until...
No sight.
No sound.
No thought.
Only the unbroken truth curling its fingers around you like a lover’s embrace.
Not in the light.
Never again in the light.
Only in the perfect, suffocating dark.
When your eyes opened, Jinu was sitting next to your bed, still. His presence was heavy in the air. Somewhere deep inside, a fragile shard of yourself shattered and slipped away, lost in the vast hollow left behind.
Your mind felt fractured, like you’d stepped through a warped mirror where everything was distorted and wrong, a world where colours bled and sounds twisted into echoes you barely recognized.
Then, without warning, Jinu leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours.
And you… you broke.
Tears spilled freely, streaming down your cheeks as you wept for the pieces stolen, for the future that slipped through your fingers like smoke. You cried for the love that once felt so certain, but now seemed just out of reach...shattered and fragile.
When he finally pulled away, your lips trembled, your heart heavy with aching loss. And with a voice raw and fragile, you finally gave shape to the silence in your soul, voicing the truth that had been buried deep inside all along.
You said:
I should've never trusted you.
Why did you betray me?
Voting ended onAug 14, 2025
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I saw in tiktok how people, when comparing Saja boys and 4towns, it's like demons vs angels (literally).
Now i'm wondering if Huntrix also have their opposites. At first i thought K/DA, but they're more like seniors/sunbae (again, in my opinion), not that opposite.
The Dazzlings from My Little Pony Equestria Girls: Rainbow Rocks, might be.
Let me know if there's any girl band that's the opposite to the huntrix. Just a curiousity
Helloo, I have a weird but specific question. If it's too weird, you can just ignore this.
If the Saja boys have a cafe date with the reader, what would their food and drink order be?
Or generally what their favorite food and drink is, in your opinion.
I needed some opinions for my story, so I'm asking you, along with other authors
Thank you, have a good day/night
Hi! Not weird at all — usually I wouldn’t do this kind of ask at the moment, but I’m answering since you mentioned it’s for your story. Thanks for including me, and I hope these help!
Jinu – Herbal tea. He’ll get a seasonal pastry.
Abby – Iced latte with extra syrup. Ham and cheese croissant or egg sandwich.
Mystery – Black coffee and something plain like shortbread.
Romance – Rotates between the trendy drinks. Will split a slice of cake with you.
Baby – Most sugary frappuccino possible and a giant chocolate muffin.
Yelloo author distuff, I have a weird but specific question. If it's too weird, you can just ignore this.
If the Saja boys have a cafe date with the reader, what would their food and drink order be?
Or generally what their favorite food and drink is, in your opinion.
I needed some opinions for my story, so I'm asking you, along with other authors
Thank you, have a good day/night.
KHAHAHAHAHA,
No Q is weird my dear Yuichishi~ love your curiosity and don't mind becoming part of Ur brainstorming ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ
Note. As this is an "Important ask" since ya need it pronto, I don't mind answering it during the week.
NOW
Onto the Q!
Whot would SAJA boyz order in MY headcanon:
Idk if ya noticed but in some of my stories I'm mentioning how these guys cannot physically digest human food or anything other than water, which makes them feel like choking either way since they're quite literally pouring water into a fire.
So in other words they get visibly sick by it as their bodies can only consume living beings soul OR the meat which doesn't really tastes like anything and it's just for a clean up really.
So if these gremlins went to the cafe I can imagine that:
Mystery:
This one? Good luck w dragging him from whatever he's obsessing over OR getting him up in general. Mate would just stare at MC before turning away without even saying "No."
So after MC somehow successful dragged this one out to get some vitam D and fresh air what would Mystery order? Depends.
Does MC know he's a demon? If yes, he won't order anything. What's the point ? If MC doesn't know, then using his still working brain Mystery will say his company put him on a vEry strict diet.
No, he can't drink water, management said so. If MC is too pushy about it Mystery will easily ask out of curiosity why are they so pushy about him eating, yada yada.
Safe to say this one ain't forcing himself to do anything.
Jinu:
He will go simply bcs publicity is a thing. Expect him to make himself look very good just in case hidden cameras are there, fans are taking pics or vids ya know the drill.
In terms of ordering, doesn't matter if MC knows or doesn't know that he's a demon. He will order something small and smth that Romance showed him was trending just to appear more attractive.
Believe that after going through the suffering the SAJA will make fun of him and Jinu will be forced to go on a hunt that day to wash away whatever feeling that food left in his mouth.
Romance:
Oh he WILL go. It could be him suggesting this but if it was MC and Romance founds out the cafe ain't aesthetically pleasing this one will take MC to one that is as per his taste obviously.
He will order for MC only something that sounds or looks aesthetically nice so he could later share it on his socials - unless MC is fine eating theirs AND Romances food, Romance will insist he would be the one ordering.
Abby:
This one is all for experiencing the new and exciting things, where he still hadn't learned that no. No human food will taste good or will be good in general since he's a demon.
Abby doesn't care.
If MC were to take him to a cafe this one would order smth he hadn't tried yet or sounds/ looks the most interesting.
Safe to say MC will be forced to call one of the SAJA boyz as per Abby's request bcs the dufus feels sick for some reason.
Baby:
Similar to Mystery, good luck dragging this one out. HW unlike Mystery, Baby has to feel like exploring. If MC catches him in the mood it would be easy, if not GL fam, you can do it.
Baby won’t eat or drink anything unless the café has lollipops or lets him order a bottle of strong hot sauce.
How he manages either? WelP (in mY opinion lol) the hot sauce tastes like burning petroleum, clinging to the corners of his mouth like spice-soaked glue. But the searing heat doesn’t bother him much - if anything the fire in his body swallows the "heat" from the sauce like it's nothing. His stomach only feels weird afterward, a kind of oily unease.
The lollipops aren’t any better. They taste awful, like he's sucking on battery acid (depends on the flavour). But they ground him.
He can scrape them with his teeth or crunch through the hard layer. Since they dissolve on his tongue and not in his gut, they don’t truly enter his body - just leave a foul aftertaste.
If the MC doesn’t yet know Baby is a demon and asks why he doesn't order anything, Baby will just shrug and say he’s not hungry or thirsty - he already ate.
. .
NOTE. If the MC does know they’re demons but still doesn’t understand why they can’t eat, each one will give a slightly different explanation. Mystery offers the most detail, and Abby, would end up calling one of the SAJA to explain because he can't quite remember the reason - just that it’s bad for Gwi-ma.
Helloo, this is my first time writing on Tumblr, so I might make some mistakes while writing this.
This is a continuation of the story ‘Apology’ by @distuff, written with their permission. Please read the original first!
A/N: I think I overwrote it...does this make sense? I hope it is. I don't think this matches distuff's version of Baby Saja though T^T
It was a simple statement. But it was one that pulled every thread together with surgical precision.
Baby blinked.
Romance let out a low, impressed whistle. “Ah. So cold. So clean. Almost romantic in a devastating way,” he said with a smile that was half-swoon, half-smirk.
Even Abby, who had by now taken to chewing on his own sleeve in boredom, snapped his head back toward Mystery with renewed interest. “Wait. Waitwaitwait. Did you just say, paint her as the villain?”
“I said,” Mystery clarified calmly, “what the company would choose to do. If pushed.”
Baby crossed his arms slowly, exhaling through his nose. There was something oddly reassuring in how detached Mystery was. Not because he didn’t care, but because he knew exactly what to care about. He always had.
It was the logic Baby needed.
And, frustratingly, it was also the logic that made Baby rethink everything he’d just threatened to do five minutes ago.
Kill you? Sure. Easy. But now? Now it felt like setting fire to a field you could’ve sold for profit instead.
“…So,” Baby muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I shouldn’t kill her.”
“No,” Mystery said flatly. “Not unless you’re prepared to deal with paperwork.”
Romance shuddered. “Ugh. Paperwork.”
Abby gagged. “Disgusting.”
Baby groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Fine. I get it. So... the apology thing... really the only option?”
Mystery didn’t answer immediately. He stepped forward, arms still at his sides, movements unhurried. When he spoke again, it was quieter, lower, but oddly firm.
“You don’t have to mean it,” he said simply. “You only have to say it.”
That hit.
Not because Baby hadn’t already considered it, but because hearing it from Mystery made it feel less like losing, and more like... strategy.
Romance seemed pleased, nodding along like he’d suggested the exact same thing earlier, which—technically—he had.
Abby, meanwhile, leaned back on his hands, eyes wide in mock admiration. “Wow. He is the smart one.”
Baby didn’t respond.
His fingers twitched, just slightly. Then stilled.
“…Alright,” he said at last. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
He glanced up at them all. “I’ll apologise.”
There was a moment of stillness.
Romance, bless his dramatic soul, placed a hand over his chest and whispered, “He said it. Our little monster’s growing up.”
Mystery turned without a word and walked toward the door.
But just before he opened it again, he paused, half-turning toward Baby with that ever-neutral expression.
“One more thing,” he said.
They all looked up.
“If you’re going to lie to a human... at least make it convincing.”
And with that—door opened—Mystery was gone.
Baby stood there a moment, lips pursed.
Romance clapped his hands together cheerfully. “Well! You heard the old man. Time to swallow your pride and pretend you care!”
Abby cackled.
Baby sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck, expression sour. “…You two better hide before I change my mind.”
But there was no venom in his voice. Not this time.
The next day, you're leaning by Derpy's side on the couch when Baby appears out of thin air with bags of spicy chips and soda cans in his arms.
"Do you want to watch a movie?... I bought those chips you humans like so much," he grumbled as he said this, eyes flicking anywhere but your face.
Derpy perks up immediately, tail thumping once against the cushions in approval.
You stare at Baby for a beat, one brow raised. “You don’t even like movies.”
“I like screaming,” he mutters. “And blood. And watching people make terrible decisions under pressure.”
You blink. “...You mean horror?”
“Exactly,” he says, already reaching for the remote. “Got three lined up. All rated ‘you’re going to regret this.’”
You sigh, but you scoot over just enough to make room. “If you pick something with clowns, I’m leaving.”
“No promises.”
He drops onto the couch beside you like a cat who owns the place, plops the chips between you, and pretends like this whole thing isn’t a big deal.
It kind of is.
He doesn’t look at you. But he does sit a little closer than necessary.
The first movie starts. Something loud, dark, and already full of doomed teenagers.
You eat the chips. He cracks open a soda.
And about halfway through, when the music swells and the creepy kid on-screen starts crawling backward up a wall, Baby casually shifts closer.
Not too close.
Just enough that your arms brush.
Neither of you mention it.
At one of the jumpscares, you flinch while hugging Baby's arm, hiding your face on his arm.
Baby grins, teeth sharp in the flickering glow of the screen.
"Scared?" You hear him mocking
"No! I-I was just surprised..." you say, still hiding your face.
At the end of the movie, you still hide your face and probably will get nightmares from the gorey scenes.
“Pfft, why do you even watch this stuff if you know you can’t handle gore?” he asks, grinning like a menace. “Is it ‘cause of that thing humans have? Pride?”
You’re still clinging to his arm, half-buried against his sleeve, refusing to look at the screen even though the movie's over. The credits are rolling, but your brain’s still stuck on that scene — the one with the eyeballs.
You grumble into his jacket. “I— I just wanted to prove I’m not… one of those things you call me. You know. Fragile. Useless. A walking liability.”
He doesn’t say anything to that.
So you keep going, voice quieter now.
“And… this is one of the first times you asked me to do something with you. Just because. Just to make things right.”
Your fingers tighten slightly on the fabric of his sleeve.
“Usually, you wouldn’t cared,” you add, almost a whisper.
There’s a long pause.
You expect him to brush it off. Laugh. Tease you again. Maybe tell you you’re imagining things or that he just wanted the couch space.
Instead—
Baby shifts beside you.
Not away. Not closer. Just… enough that his shoulder fits more snugly against yours.
“Yeah, well…” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “You wouldn’t talk to me. Had to get creative.”
You peek up at him, but he’s still staring straight ahead at the screen, as if the credits are fascinating.
“I’m not good at this stuff,” he says suddenly. “The talking. The apologizing. The… you-being-mad-at-me part.”
You snort, just a little. “Yeah. I noticed.”
He gives you a side-eye. “Don’t push it.”
Silence falls again, but it’s softer this time. Less awkward.
After a moment, he reaches toward the table, grabs another can of soda, pops it open, and offers it to you without looking.
“Second movie’s shorter,” he says casually. “Less gore. More ghosts. You’ll probably still scream, though.”
You take the soda. Your fingers brush his.
And maybe it’s the horror hangover, or the comfort of Derpy snoring at your feet, or the fact that Baby’s not pushing you away — but for once, you don’t let go of his arm.
“…Thanks,” you say.
He doesn’t answer.
But he doesn’t pull away either.
By the time the third movie ends, the room is dim, quiet, and littered with empty chip bags and soda cans. Derpy is passed out upside down, legs in the air, mouth open like he’d watched the horrors too.
You’re curled up on the couch, eyes bleary, head resting lightly against Baby’s shoulder.
“I think I’ve reached my limit,” you mumble, blinking slowly. “Any more jump scares and I’m filing a complaint with HR.”
“There is no HR,” Baby says.
“Then I’m filing a complaint with God.”
He snorts.
You don’t move, and neither does he. The silence stretches, comfortable now, filled with the soft buzz of the TV and Derpy’s gentle snoring.
“…You didn’t scream during the last one,” he says after a beat.
You hum, half-asleep. “I was too tired to be scared.”
He glances down at you.
“You were also holding onto me the whole time.”
You don’t answer.
“…Not that I mind,” he adds quickly, like the words taste weird in his mouth. “Or whatever.”
You peek up at him, eyes half-lidded. “Was that a compliment?”
“No,” he says too fast. “That was a statement. Observation. Completely neutral.”
“Mhm. Sure.”
You close your eyes again, still resting on his arm. “Neutral sounds a lot like sweet coming from you.”
Baby groans, leaning his head back against the couch dramatically. “You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re half-dead from fear.”
Your eyes fly open. “Did you just call me cute?”
He freezes. “No.”
“You did!”
“Shut up, you’re hallucinating.”
“I am very awake now, thank you.”
He grumbles something under his breath, face turning slightly pink at the ears.
You grin and nudge your head gently against his shoulder.
“...Thanks for staying,” you say softly. “Even if it was all blood and ghosts and- whatever that third movie was supposed to be.”
Baby is quiet for a long moment.
Then, lowly, almost shy:
“I didn’t really care about the movies.”
Your breath catches.
And in the quiet that follows, you feel his arm shift — not away, but around your shoulder this time. Clumsy. Warm. Protective in that totally-not-protective way he does.
“Next time,” he says, “you pick the movie.”
You smile into his jacket.
And for once, the silence between you says everything that needs to be said.
The credits of the last movie have long since faded, and the TV screen has dimmed into that quiet blue glow that only happens when no one bothers turning it off.
You’re fast asleep, curled into Baby’s side, your cheek resting comfortably against his chest. His arm is still around you, hand limp but resting like it never meant to move. He’s out too — mouth slightly open, brow relaxed in a way that never happens when he’s awake.
Derpy is still on the floor, now snoring like a small chainsaw.
Everything is calm. Peaceful.
Until-
Click.
A camera shutter breaks the silence.
Romance stands just inside the doorway, grinning like he’s just witnessed a miracle.
“Oh my god,” he whispers dramatically, holding up his phone. “They’re cuddling.”
Abby pokes his head in behind him. “No way. Baby doesn't cuddle. Baby bites.”
“Not tonight,” Romance says, eyes sparkling with glee. “Tonight, our terrifying murder goblin has been domesticated.”
He snaps another photo. And another. Full paparazzi mode.
Derpy lifts his head, blinks once, then went back to sleep.
“Should we wake them?” Abby asks, clearly itching to mess with them.
Romance holds up a hand. “No. This—this must be preserved. Archived. Revered.”
He zooms in on Baby’s face, which is peacefully squished against your hair.
“Blackmail material?” Abby suggests.
“Oh, absolutely.”
They tiptoe back out the door, giggling like schoolkids, and the room falls quiet again.
You and Baby stay exactly as you are — tangled in each other’s warmth, completely unaware.
The apartment smells like toast, eggs, and Jinu’s weird obsession with putting cinnamon in everything. You wake to the soft clatter of dishes in the kitchen and Derpy nudging your arm with his nose, as if to say get up, lazy human, it’s breakfast time.
You blink groggily, stretching a little — and only then realize you’re still half-draped across Baby’s chest.
He hasn’t moved yet.
Still asleep, one arm loosely curled around your waist, face smushed into the top of your head.
It would be cute, if not for the fact that the moment he stirs, his eyes open halfway—and immediately squint with suspicion.
“…Why does it smell like sugar and shame?”
You snort. “Good morning to you too.”
He groans and shifts, rubbing at his face. “Ugh. I feel like I got run over by a haunted semi-truck.”
“You fell asleep during the third movie.”
“Lies. I was just… meditating.”
“You were drooling.”
Before he can grumble a comeback, his phone buzzes loudly on the coffee table.
One buzz. Then another. Then five more in rapid fire.
Baby frowns, reaches over, and unlocks it.
The moment he opens the group chat, his entire body goes rigid.
Because there it is.
A full-resolution photo of him dead asleep on the couch. Holding you. Arms wrapped around you like you were the last warm thing on Earth.
And underneath the photo:
Romance: Our little monster has a heart after all 🥺🖤
Abby: is this a glitch in the matrix or character development?
Jinu: serving pancakes to celebrate this historic moment. bring your feelings & your forks.
Mystery: 👍
Baby stares at the screen, horrified.
"...They know."
You peek at the phone over his shoulder.
“Oh. Oh no.”
He bolts upright. “They all know.”
From the kitchen, Jinu calls, teasing, “Good morning, snugglebug! Hope you like your eggs over easy!”
Romance appears a second later, grinning ear to ear, waving his phone like it’s a trophy.
“Smile for the sequel?”
Baby lunges.
Romance shrieks and sprints down the hallway, laughing.
You stay on the couch, burying your red face into a pillow, while Derpy wags his tail excitedly like this is the best morning ever.
Baby storms back into the room a minute later, hair messy, breathing hard, and very much still flustered.
He grumbles something under his breath, grabs a piece of toast off Jinu’s plate, and drops dramatically beside you again.
“…They’re never gonna let this go.”
You hand him his soda from last night. “Nope.”
He glares at it. Then at you.
Then sighs and takes a sip. “…Worth it though.”
You glance at him.
He doesn’t meet your eyes. But his ears are a little pink.
At noon, It's obvious staying inside will just make the teasing escalate worse.
“I’m leaving,” Baby muttered, already puttin on his beanie.
You stood. “Where?”
“Anywhere that doesn’t have Romance in it.”
“Mind if I tag along?”
He paused, eyeing you sideways. “...You’re not gonna bring it up?”
You shrugged. “Only if you do.”
He hesitated. Then jerked his head toward the door. “Fine. Let’s go.”
The sun outside was warm but breezy, and the streets were calm — just enough people to feel alive, but not enough to overwhelm. You walked in silence at first, side by side, passing cafes and flower stalls, a couple of aunties chatting by a fruit vendor.
Eventually, Baby stuffed his hands into his hoodie pocket.
“Still mad about the photo?” you asked casually.
He scoffed. “Mad? No. Just... annoyed.”
“Because we looked cute?”
His ears turned red. “No. Because now Abby’s threatening to sell keychains.”
After a solid hour of aimless wandering and feeding the stray cats at the park, you passed a corner bookstore with a sign out front that read: “CURSED BOOKS, DISCOUNTED REGRETS.”
Baby stopped.
You followed his gaze. “Should we go in?”
He blinked. “What kind of bookstore advertises regrets?”
“The good kind.”
Inside, it smelled like mothballs and mystery. The shelves leaned at precarious angles. Dust shimmered in the sunbeams like tiny ghosts.
Baby vanished almost immediately into the "Cursed Lore & Local Myths" section.
You browsed the romance aisle instead, marveling at titles like “Mated to the Goblin King’s Accountant” and “Fifty Shades of Grave Robbing.”
Eventually, you reconvened at the counter.
“I bet yours is unhinged,” you challenged.
Baby revealed his find with a smirk: “Cursed Forests You Shouldn’t Visit Unless You’re Dumb or Depressed.”
“...You win,” you sighed.
He looked far too pleased with himself as you paid for his book chips.
With the sun climbing higher and your feet beginning to ache, you spotted an arcade across the street, neon lights flashing through the glass like a beacon of chaos.
“Race you,” you said.
“You’ll lose,” Baby replied — but you were already gone.
Inside, the air buzzed with synthetic music and the whirr of game machines.
Baby dominated air hockey.
You crushed him in DDR.
Then came the claw machine.
You pointed at a plush dumpling with angry eyebrows. “That’s literally you.”
Baby narrowed his eyes. “You’re just mad I beat your high score.”
He proceeded to fail the claw machine five times.
But on the sixth try, he got it.
He shoved the dumpling into your hands, ears pink. “Keep this before I change my mind.”
You hugged it, grinning. “Thanks. It’ll guard me from the clown ghosts tonight.”
As the sun set and the moon rose, the night market unfolded like a fever dream, lanterns swinging overhead, sizzling smoke curling through the air, and the sound of a thousand hungry footsteps crunching against the pavement.
You were already overwhelmed by the heat and noise. Baby, on the other hand, looked like a kid in a candy store. A very spicy candy store.
“Smell that?” he grinned, tugging you toward the first row of food stalls.
“Yeah,” you said, coughing. “My lungs are begging for mercy.”
“That’s the scent of happiness.”
You squinted at the flaming red dish he pointed at. “That’s the scent of chemical warfare.”
Baby snorted and ordered without hesitation. “One buldak skewer. Extra sauce.”
The vendor raised an eyebrow. “You sure, son?”
“Positive.”
You watched, horrified but impressed, as Baby took one bite-no blinking, no sweating-just a satisfied nod like he was tasting a good wine.
He glanced at you. “Wanna try?”
“I like being alive, thanks.”
_______________________________________
You shuffled behind him as he weaved effortlessly through the crowd, bouncing from one dangerously red stall to the next — fire noodles, pepper tempura, spicy rice cakes bubbling in molten sauce. The man was on a mission.
Meanwhile, you were already on your second cup of iced watermelon juice, trying to cool down from watching him eat.
“I think my tongue is numb by association,” you muttered.
Baby just shrugged and handed you something skewered and fried. “Here. This one’s mild.”
You eyed it suspiciously. “You have no concept of mild.”
“Trust me.”
You didn’t.
But you bit it anyway.
Your soul left your body instantly.
You gasped. “You liar!”
Baby looked genuinely confused. “Really? That one’s like, a five out of ten. Tops.”
“On what scale? Satan’s?!”
He laughed — bright and delighted — then pulled out a banana milk from a nearby fridge like he knew this would happen.
He popped the cap and offered it to you without saying anything.
You drank.
He patted your back like a proud, mildly evil boyfriend.
_______________________________________
A few stalls later, you watched him square up at a booth titled: “HELL CHALLENGE — CHUG THREE FLAMES. WIN HONOR.”
“Don’t,” you begged, grabbing his sleeve.
Baby just smirked. “Too late.”
You watched in horror (and... admiration?) as he tilted the first bottle back, then the second, and finally the third — each one a progressively more absurd shade of red.
The small crowd around you started to cheer. One old woman shouted, “That boy’s not human!”
Baby wiped his mouth with his sleeve and bowed slightly.
“Okay,” you said, still blinking. “Why?”
“Because I can.”
You stared at him.
He blinked innocently. “...And the drink coupon.”
He handed it to you like a prize. You looked down. It was for a single mango smoothie.
“You chugged liquid death for this?”
“You looked like you needed it.”
You took the drink and shook your head, smiling. “Spicy demon.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Later, you sat together on a curb, both of you surrounded by plastic containers and crumpled napkins. Baby was still nibbling on a grilled chili-stuffed squid, perfectly content. You were working through a skewer of fruit dusted in chili powder , which, shockingly, wasn’t trying to kill you.
“I think I understand you now,” you said between bites.
He glanced over, amused. “Yeah?”
“You’re not into spice because it tastes good. You’re into it because it’s chaos.”
He grinned. “Exactly.”
“And you like chaos.”
He nudged your knee. “I like controlled chaos. With company.”
You raised a brow. “So this is like a spice date?”
He shrugged, still chewing. “Pretty much.”
You leaned into him slightly, watching the lanterns sway above the crowd.
Somewhere nearby, someone dropped a plate and cursed loudly. Music from a busker’s guitar floated past. The smell of burnt sugar and spice clung to your jacket.
You weren’t sure if it was the chili or Baby’s stupid smile, but your face was hot again.
Hello, I wanna thanked these amazing authors for inspiring me and allow me to write their names in my book.
@thatonegrimm @froothytoothy @coriihanniee @kinsuim @distuff @deliwrites @gyunify-deactivated20250711 Unfortunately, the last account Gyunify is deactivated, so if anyone knows if Gyunify makes a new account, please let me know so I can tag them.
My new book about Baby Saja x OC is out on Wattpad, but it's not finished.
Kpop Demon Hunter (Baby saja x OC)
Two kids, a girl forced to grow up too fast, met a boy with only a drunk father who couldn't care less.
T
I don’t even care if it’s macaroni, ramen or those little bowls you stick in the microwave. Please, I need reassurance that most of the population on tumblr WOULDN’T STARVE TO DEATH if their parents couldn’t fix them food or they couldn’t go out to eat.
Helloo everyone. I'm a writer in wattpad, writing about a fanfiction, kemono jihen. The story is about shiki tademaru with my OC Hanabi Kozima.
Summary: Shiki's mother, Kumi, found an abandoned kitsune child on her walk in the woods. Kitsunes are known as a mischievous prankster and also for being manipulative. Kitsunes would always manipulate others for their selfish gains
But this particular kitsune child is different from the others, she's quiet but caring.
And over time, without realizing it, she made a certain tsundere threads-user fall in love with her.
Shiki Tademaru x OC
**PIC NOT MINE**
Shiki's mother, Kumi, found an abandoned kitsune child on her walk in the...
