#STOP IT I NEED ALL OF YOU TO LISTEN TO ME
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dirtylittlesecre7 · 3 days ago
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Oh my gosh— someone who writes for nam-gyu? Am I dreaming?! I CANNOT find any fics of him!! Need headcannons about him rn😩 I feel like that man would enjoy making you cry and upset, like he would grin and laugh while doing so. (Cough— Hatefuck—cough..) Just need headcannons about that man so bad😩🫣
This is actually my first time asking, so I really don't know what to say🥲 but I hope you consider this🫶🫶🫶
-🌟anon
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warning | nsfw content
word count | 0,6k
a/n | thank you so much for your request luv! I hope I could write something as you wanted
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!he's had mixed feelings from the moment he first saw you. hate? anger? like?
oh no, not like. he just hates you so much that he wants to fuck you until you know your place.
"fucking bitch."
"huh?" thanos looked at him incomprehensibly, about to turn his head to you, but nam-gyu quickly changed the subject "nothing."
!he's insanely jealous of thanos👀 even if you don't respond to his flirting, seeing a man next to you makes him angry enough. at least it gives him a reason to make you cry more.
!he should be the only one who annoys you. if he sees someone picking on you, he'll quickly intervene, at first he'll protect you from that person, but then...
"are you too stupid to not protect yourself? no. don't even think about crying." his emotionless voice makes you tremble as he watches you quickly wipe your tears away "good. don't you dare unless I make those tears flow."
!he likes to tease you until you cry because he thinks you look so beautiful with tears in your eyes. If you turn your head and try to hide your face from him, he will forcefully grab your chin and make you look at him with your eyes full of tears. you will see that he is trying to calm down by taking a deep breath because oh...you have no idea how horny he is.
!If he can't sleep at night, he will come to your bed and bother you. If he can't sleep, you can't sleep either. but strangely, talking at night is when you get along the most. guess you are both too tired to argue, but that doesn't mean he won't say a few things about you.
okay, now please hear me out..
!this man is completely clingy when he loves you, but he is also hard when he fucks you, I can't say he doesn't like slow sex, but when he can fuck you like crazy, he doesn't really think about the other option.
!I say clingy because he can never be comfortable if his hand is not on your body in some way. he has to touch you in some way so that he feels better. when you least expect it, you may find his hands on your waist pulling you closer to him "mm...look who's here?"
!If we talk about life outside of the game, you can become his only world. yes, he likes to make you cry and upset. but only you. the others have never caught his attention and they don't. he still thinks you have the most beautiful tears.
!I can't say he's very loud in bed. he'll mostly let out short gasps and short moans. he likes listening to you more, whine for him and he'll make you see stars.
!he likes to tease you and make you cum so much that you cry from sensitivity. when you beg him to stop, he just puckers his lower lip in a mocking tone.
"aw.. does it hurt? what should I do?" he leans into your ear while his fingers, which don't stop, hit the inside of your pussy hard while you just had your 3rd orgasm "Is that all you can take? c'mon.. you can give me more, hm? ah..yes don't hide your voice from me, fuck-"
!he'll run his hand over you while you're sleeping at night, sorry not sorry. when you open your eyes and notices how his fingers are expertly tangled in your wetness, he'll smirk and say "you awake? good. now you better spread your legs for me and be loud as possible."
he's obsessed with you in some way, romantic or not, and he has no plans to leave your side.
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drivingmebonkas · 2 hours ago
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After a shoulder dislocation my shoulder would occasionally fall out for little reason, like reaching out for something.
The first time the doctor just looked at me and told me to exercise. Then she just sent me on my way.
5 mini to serious publications later I was finally able to get a doctor to see (a whole line of them! Like, 4 if them! I nearly cried! I still kinda feel like crying!)
And guys. Guess what it was. Guess what was wrong with me.
I had a torn tendon.
The doctors from the initial injury considered giving me an MRI but just shrugged the idea off and turns out this entire damn time ! It was a torn tendon!
So I asked for exercise advice because I agreed. I need to lose weight. Especially for the surgery (which they put me in for immediately, I'm supposed to have it sometime this year).
And do you know what that doctor said?
No! No exercising. It'll exacerbate the injury.
This entire damn time!I got this injury shortly before COVID. The entire goddamn time!
And that first doctor almost didn't even see me because it was in early COVID. I had to talk over the receptionist on the phone because they were (understandably) too scared of letting in someone sick to listen long enough to catch that it was about an injury. It was that stage of COVID. And she told me to go exercise. Where even? There's only so much that can be done in a rental home.
And you know what the real kicker is?
The cause of the initial injury was a bad fall on the way to, get this, the gym! Which I told the initial doctor when she told me to just exercise. 😭 And now I have to start from scratch because I was too scared to exercise lest it falls out again.
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But thank goodness for that line of helpful doctors. I got really lucky there. Ever since that surgery waiting list was confirmed I've stopped having nightmares of all my limbs falling out like some old doll. My sleep has been restful.
Hey did y'all ever think about that if doctors blame all fat people's medical issues on them being too fat without proper investigation and then feel justified in neglecting their medical concerns, then statistically more fat people WILL develop and potentially die from serious health issues and it might not actually be because of the fat when everything comes down to it
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y2kas13 · 2 days ago
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Can She Stay? (Paige B. x reader)
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Paige b. x dads best friend's daughter!reader
Summary: Paige goes with her dad to his best friend's house meets his daughter and quickly becomes close.
cw: fluff, rizzler paige lol, spicy but no smut, reader isn't given a set race or weight just mentions of curly hair and being on the 'thicker side' but nothing too defining y/n used srry
a/n: (I wrote this months ago and never knew how to finish so I’m gonna post it how it is if you wnat a continuation I definitely will) I'm actually from and live in CT so I'm gonna use the name of a college from here for realism its not important tho so don't worry lol thank you for tuning in to my poll for those who interacted this is technically my 2nd fic on Tumblr but my other one sucked and flopped 😭 so hopefully this is better. I appreciate interaction!
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Paige was a go-getter, constantly up and running ready to take on the day and do what needed to be done.
Needless to say, she didn't want to get out of bed and go with her dad to sit around and listen to old dad jokes for the next few hours.
She loves her dad, but after weeks of training and hard work, she wants to mindlessly scroll on her phone and eat some well-deserved junk food.
"Come on Paige it'll be fun I promise it'll be worth your while. watch you'll have so much fun you won't wanna leave! now come on Paige!" Hearing her dad have so much enthusiasm trumps her feelings of wanting to stay home. She changes out of her pajamas into black loose-fitting sweatpants and a white crop-top she puts her slides on and gets in her dad's car and falls asleep.
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Feeling the car come to a stop makes her open her eyes and see that they are presumably at her dad's friend's house. She rubs her eyes and stretches to wake her up. She hops out of the car and walks up to the door after her dad.
Before her dad can even finish knocking a man who looks the same age as her dad opens the door. "Bob! there you are old timer hurry up the game is coming on." He ushers them in and both Paige and her dad hurry inside.
Paige takes in the living room while her dad and his friend playfully banter with each other. Before Paige can open her mouth to say anything she hears soft footsteps coming toward the living room which causes her to look up.
"Dad, what's all that noise?"
Paige sees probably one of the prettiest girls she's seen in a while. Beautiful curly hair held out of her face by a simple headband, she's wearing a simple blue crop top similar to her own and the smallest pair of black pajama shorts she's seen in forever.
The feeling of the girl's eyes also looking her up and down causes Paige to finally stop staring and look away. "Come here baby let me introduce you!" The pretty girl steps further into the living room to stand by both dads which causes Paige to follow without even thinking. The girls' dads introduce them to each other, "This is my daughter Paigey she plays basketball at UConn she's a little star." Bob says with obvious pride in his voice which causes Paige to slightly blush and look down waving him away playfully at the nickname. This elicits a small giggle out of the girl which makes Paige smile a little harder and look up at the girl seeing that she's already looking at Paige. "This is my baby she goes to Southern and she's the student council president at her school." Pride is also evident in his words, the baby name makes the girl turn away in slight embarrassment.
The TV in the living room starts playing a loud sound alerting the dads that the game they were awaiting is finally starting so they offer that the girls should go hang out together in the girl's room. They head towards the girl's room.
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"So baby huh?" Paige says with a small smirk on her lips, the name used making her laugh.
"Oh whatever Paigey," The girl rolls her eyes playfully and sits on her bed, "I have a real name you know." Paige looks around the room taking in the aesthetically pleasing room with light grey walls dark hardwood floors and posters of all her favorite shows and artists on her wall.
Paige sits down at the small dark wooded vanity now looking at the girl perched on the bed, "Care to share then princess?" the nickname princess causes the girl to spring up and look at the blonde girl at her vanity
She shares her name with Paige to which Paige compliments.
“So student council president huh? You’re a smart girl aren’t you.” Paige says with a smirk but there’s no condensation or malice in it.
The curly haired girl nods making her curls bounce and flop in her face slightly. “Yep school has always been my thing I’ve been best at.”
Paige gets up from her vanity and walk over to the bed. She looks the curly haired girl in the eyes and moves some of the hair that fell in her face. “Maybe you should come by my school and see me do what I’m best at.”
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sky-scribbles · 1 day ago
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Something that, imo, Veilguard does incredibly well is building a sense of intimacy.
Inquisition felt big. You had a keep full of servants and soldiers. The maps were huge. As the Inquisitor, you had genuine political authority, to the point of regularly being entrusted with making binding judgements about people's fates.
And all of that was fun to explore! But there's something about this game's force against the Evanuris being... eight people (and a griffon and two spirits) on a broken little Fade island. No armies. No servants. You are the embodiments of 'unchosen ones', and you're all you've got.
Lucanis and Bellara cook for you. There's a book club. The companions are always in each other's rooms, talking, bonding, occasionally quarrelling. You cna decorate your room with little trinkets. Group strategy sessions don't take place around a war table, but happen when everyone pulls chairs together in the library. You have no advisors, very few political strings to pull or clout to wield. Just you.
The companions have multiple missions in which to get to know them. You have coffee with Lucanis; you place flowers on the graves of Emmrich's parents. You go to dinner with Taash's mother (however tense and disastrous those dinners are). In amongst all the world-saving, you stop to help Emmrich face his former best friend, Lucanis to confront his trauma and face his cousin.
Your forces in Inquisition were a group of nameless NPCs (plus Cullen and Harding, I guess); each of the allied factions in Veilguard has one or two 'faces' whom you work with repeatedly. You watch Antoine and Evka flirt gently among flowers. You see Viago hold Teia after Caterina's 'death'. If Minrathous is blighted, you can read Tarquin's pained letters to the Wardens asking if there's any way to save Ashur. Even the factions that didn't get fleshed out as much (and don't get me wrong, I'm sad about that) at least have emotional ties to one or more of your companions. You might not spend time with Strife or Irelin so much, but that's Emmrich's potential boyfriend, Bellara's ex-girlfriend.
It's just you and seven friends against the world, along with the tiny pockets of support you've found along the way. You've no authority to make others do what the world needs; you can barely make them listen to you. It's not much. You're not much.
But Harding and Emmrich go camping together. You stand by Taash's side as they figure out who they are. Davrin takes you out to touch grass and makes you terrible tea. Bellara gushes about crime serials to Neve. Lucanis remembers your favourite drink.
It's just you. Isn't that terrible? Isn't that wonderful?
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ja3yun · 13 hours ago
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Please Be Real | P.JS
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ex!jongseong x fem!reader warnings: angst, smut(mdni), unprotected sex, cream pie, fingering, begging, hurt w comfort, petnames (baby, princess), mentions of intoxication, alcohol, heavy conversation around wanting children, badly written, reupload, anything else lmk! w.c: 9.7k synopsis: you never thought you would hear the name park jongseong again until you get a call from one of his friends begging for your help a/n: hi! this is a reupload!! so if you think you've read it, that's because you have <3 i didn't edit this one and i think you will be able to tell since my writing is a little sloppy compared to now but i love this fic a lot. i was actually planning a new one today (sub jake) but i fear that one isn't finished yet! so please enjoy. as always, comments, feedback and reblogs are all welcome! love u <33
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A sharp, jarring noise pierces your ears, the peaceful sleep you were in rudely disrupted. You groan out loud, covering your face with your covers but it does nothing to stop the ringing from your phone, it doesn’t even dull it a little, the little black device only echoing around the room louder.
Disoriented and groggy, you fumble for your phone on the bedside table, clumsily searching for it in the darkness. It isn’t your alarm, the usual peaceful tones of the birds chirping would be a welcomed sound, one that eases you into the day; no this was a phone call.
Finally grasping your phone, your eyes fight themselves open as you blink away any remnants of sleep, trying to find any sort of centre from your dizzy awakening. You look at the name on your phone but your vision is so blurred you can’t make it out but answer it anyway, knowing that whoever is phoning at this ungodly hour is clearly in need of your help.
“Hello?” you ask quietly, as if you don’t want to disturb the quiet of the night, unlike the person on the other end of the call.
“Uh, Y/N? It’s Jake.” His soft Australian accent drifts from your phone speaker into your ears. He sounds unsure whether he is supposed to be making the call, which to be fair, you understand because you haven’t heard from him in months, not after…
Letting out a sigh, you rub your forehead with the base of your palm tiredly, “Jake, why the fuck are you calling me at…” you pull the phone away, inspecting the time now that you’re more alert, “3.36am?” you ask with a hint of disdain. Normally, you would welcome the boy’s surprise call, after all, you did miss him. But considering he woke you up from a good dream involving you, Jeongin from Stray Kids, and a happily ever after; he wasn’t exactly your favourite person right now.
You can faintly hear some music in the background as he stays silent and you swear to yourself if this is to give him a ride home from a concert turned party, you’ll have his head.
“Listen, I hate to ask you this but can you come to Haven?”
“The nightclub? Why?” Your earlier suspicions are proving to be right, he does want a lift home. That would be an acceptable request if you guys were actively talking every day and the best of buddies but he isn’t even your friend, not really. 
You can hear him shuffling around on the other end of the line, his voice can be heard trying to calm someone down but his words are obscured as if the phone is wrested away from his mouth, leaving only disjointed fragments of speech drifting through the receiver. 
This sounds like more than just a simple ride home and it causes you to snap to attention, your senses heightened with concern. 
Jake finally brings his attention back to you, letting out a sigh of discontentment, “It’s Jay, he’s a mess and he’s calling out for you.”
Jay. Park Jongseong.
It’s been so long since anyone has dared to mention his name to you that it almost sounds like a foreign word.
Seven months ago, you and Jongseong had decided to call off your six-year relationship, both of you reaching the understanding that it was for the best considering your battling differences and needs within the relationship.
It wasn’t easy, the furthest thing from it actually. You and him had been inseparable since high school and once you both got together in year 12, it was always you and him against the world. He was the love of your life, that once-in-a-lifetime kind of love that only happens in fairytales. Your souls were both painted from the same brush stroke.
But he wanted a peaceful, routine life - a classic white picket fence dream. Evenings would be spent with friends, savouring white wine and casual conversations over dinner. His heart was set on imagining the echoes of your future children's laughter filling your home, family trips to the seaside, and comforting them with kisses and band-aids when they got hurt.
And you craved spontaneity, to embrace life with vigour, travelling the world together was your dream, free from the responsibilities of parenting, cherishing moments just for yourselves. You longed for random midnight trips to Tesco for birthday cake simply because you could. All you wished for was to be with him, just the two of you.
Suddenly, your brain clicks into an important detail and you hurriedly check the calendar on your phone and the date makes you slump in your bed.
Today is Jongseong’s birthday, well technically not anymore given the time, but that means he has lived his first birthday without you by his side in so long. You would always celebrate his big day by doing something from his handwritten bucket list he has had since he was a child. Over the years he has added more to the list, each birthday scoring one out to add another.
The list wasn't extravagant; it was filled with simple yet heartfelt desires. You bought him a bundle of guitar lessons and a Taylor 114e electric guitar to fulfil his wish of learning to play. When you noticed the Download Festival marked with gold stars on his list, you surprised him with tickets for the year Metallica was headlining. And when he expressed a desire to cook a meal from scratch for his mum, you gifted him a kitchen knife engraved with his name and took the time to teach him how to prepare her favourite dish.
His birthdays were the most precious when you were in them, and you weren’t there with him.
“Y/N?” Jake’s sweet voice draws you back to his attention and out of the memory lane swirl your brain has put you in. He knows this is a tough call for you to take considering you and Jongseong said to cut ties completely; it’s better to act like you both didn’t exist than keep a thread tethered to one another that would only hurt you more.
As Jake and Sunghoon whisked Jay away for his birthday celebration, their intention was simple: to help him let loose and have a good time. Jay had been buried in overtime work lately, leaving little room for socialising. Since the breakup, the idea of going out without you - dancing together, stealing kisses in the taxi ride home - seemed unappealing.
Waking up that morning, Jay realised it marked the first birthday in six years without ticking something off his bucket list. The familiar, worn paper lay dormant on his desk, a stark reminder of your absence. He had no desire to celebrate today without you by his side. If he could fast-forward through the day to escape the weight of his birthday, he would eagerly do so.
Yet, with two very persuading friends and a whole lot of whiskey later, here he was, curled up outside Haven, yearning out for you.
“Y/N please, at least come and convince him to get up and come home with us,” Jake pleads. You can hear the cries of your ex-lover more clearly now as Jake kneels beside his friend, checking in on him.
With a resigned sigh, you nod, “Okay. Keep him warm, I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”
Hanging up the phone, you quickly put a brush through your hair and change into a baggy top, one you bought for Jongseong before breaking up, and a pair of grey sweatpants. This is a bad idea, you know it is, but you also can’t leave him to wallow in the middle of the street. You don’t think you could live with yourself if you didn’t help and Jake wouldn’t call unless it was something he couldn’t handle. 
You don’t want to see the state Jongseong is in, his wailing cries that you could slightly hear over the phone already made your heart clench in hurt.
As you drive to Haven, your heart races in anticipation with each mile that passes. Is your heart ready to face him after all these months? Staring into the love of your life’s eyes once again might break you even more. You’ve done a good job in keeping yourself together, at putting on a facade that everything is okay, when deep down you know that if one person asked you about Jongseong you would crumble and fall apart. 
He wasn’t the only one throwing himself into work to forget. You’ve worked hours and hours trying to keep your mind off the heartbreak, you thought that if you just focused and kept your head down, the phrase time heals all wounds would kick in and you’d be free of the torment of losing your first love. But it hasn’t worked out that way, you know that now as you speed down the empty roads to console the one person you are trying to forget.
As you reach Haven, you can vaguely see three boys under the illuminating sign, almost as if shining a spotlight on them to add to the spectacle that Jongseong is making. Onlookers are watching as your ex-boyfriend cries on the pavement, wishing you would come home.
With a quick exhale, you step out of the car before doubts can creep in, determined to be there for him. Jake and Sunghoon's voices float to you, attempting to soothe him and inject some sense into the moment. Bracing yourself, you approach, ready to offer whatever comfort you can, despite the storm of emotions swirling within you.
Sinking onto the balls of your feet, you lower yourself to Jongseong's level, meeting his strained figure. Instantly, the sight of his distress instantly shatters your heart into a million pieces.
An abundance of tears cascades down Jongseong's reddened face, obscuring his features like a relentless waterfall. His clenched jaw and the prominent vein on his forehead portray the intensity of his distress as he struggles to draw each laboured breath. Curled into himself, his body seems to contort with the weight of physical agony, mirroring the emotional pain that ripples through his trembling form. He’s been keeping this in for so long that his body doesn’t know how to cope with it.
Reaching out to grab his clenched fist, you shuffle forward carefully, “Jjongie?” you say calmly, trying to pull him out of his dispaired state and avoid startling him. “It’s me, baby, look at me,” 
Jongseong's body tenses at your voice and he slowly lifts his head, his eyes bloodshot and filled with an overwhelming mixture of sorrow and longing. For a moment, there's a flicker of recognition in his eyes before they cloud over again with anguish.
He doesn’t believe you’re actually here, considering the long nights where he has conjured up the idea of you, clinging to his imagination on the lonely nights he wishes for your touch. But as you squeeze his hand, he realises this isn’t a dream-induced sighting, you’re really here in front of him.
"Y/N..." he murmurs, his voice choked with emotion. Tears stream down his face in torrents, some landing on your hand that holds his. His cries reverberate through the air, each wail a sharp stab to your chest.
Cupping his cheek, you settle yourself between his legs, ignoring the stinging discomfort of the rocks beneath your knees, your focus solely on him. With a sad smile, you attempt to mask your own hurt, your touch a gentle reassurance amidst his storm of emotions.
"Hey, hey, enough of that now," you hush him softly, your voice a soothing melody in the tumultuous night. Using the pad of your thumb, you tenderly wipe away his tears, though they continue to flow unabated.
Jongseong leans into your touch, “I miss you so much, Y/N, please. Please,” he pleads as you feel his warm breath against your skin. He desperately nuzzles into your palm, seeking solace in the familiar sensation of your touch, the very thing he has been yearning for.
It’s hurting you just seeing him like this, the man you once knew to be strong-willed and resilient, keeping his emotions under control unless he’s sharing sweet vulnerable moments with you under the covers, is now a shell of himself, stripped bare by the weight of grief.
Turning to look at Jake, you offer him a small smile, “I’ll take him home.”
“You sure?” Jake asks with a raised brow, knowing that it’s a dangerous game for you both if you do.
“Yeah, I don’t think he’s going to move unless I do,” you chuckle sympathetically but there’s a bubble in your throat as Jongseong’s whimpers flow into your ear from beside you, pathetic and distressed.
Nodding, Jake gestures to Sunghoon, silently enlisting his help in the task of ferrying the drunk man to your car. The weight of Jongseong's limp form proves difficult as you all struggle to navigate his dead weight, his limbs hanging heavily without offering any assistance.
"Let's get you home," you murmur softly, your hands pressing gently against Jongseong's chest to steady him, aided by his friends who lift him onto their shoulders.
His eyes lock onto yours, an intensity burning within them. "Please be real," he whispers, his voice trembling with desperation. Despite feeling your touch and catching hints of your scent, doubt gnaws at him. If this is merely a figment of his imagination, he knows he'll never forgive himself. You're so close, so tangible - it has to be you.
With much struggle, the three of you get him to your car, putting him gently in the backseat so he can lie down, but he wraps his arms around your waist as his legs stay situated outside of the vehicle, holding you close to him.
"Come on, Jjongie, lie down for a minute," you coax gently, guiding him to stretch out along the seats. But he remains unmoving, clutching onto you as if fearing you'll slip away if he lets go. With a soft sigh, you stroke the back of his head, your hands moving in a soothing rhythm. "I promise, I am not going anywhere," you whisper, your words a tender vow to him.
Yet, your attempts to reassure him seem to go unheard. His face burrows deeper into your stomach, his words muffled by the fabric of your t-shirt and the weight of his tears.
You exchange a worried glance with Jake and Sunghoon, “How much did he have to drink?” you ask, scared of the answer they will give. Your ex-boyfriend has always been so good at holding his liquor that it must have been a hefty amount if he’s this bad..
“Like…two weeks' wage worth,” Sunghoon winces as he says it, his neck tightening as he looks at his best friend. It was hard to watch him, pound spirit after spirit, and be helpless in telling him to stop. He’s not exaggerating either, he must have spent at least £600 in there. Each round was a triple, accompanied by a few shots to wash the Jack and Coke down.
"Oh, baby," you sigh softly, returning your attention to Jongseong. You press a tender kiss to the crown of his head, hoping to offer some comfort amidst his distress. In some way, the scent of his shampoo also gives you some ease within the chaos. His response to your affection is to cling to you even tighter, his sobs echoing against your chest as he seeks solace in your embrace. There’s a crushing wave of empathy that you feel wash over you right at this moment. It hurts, seeing him like this and hearing of his struggles - ex or not - you care about him, and you also understand his pain.
You need to get him home. He’s a fucking mess and the longer he stays like this, the more it’s going to wear all four of you out. So, with a gentle hand, you pull him back and lift his jaw up to look at you. It was probably the worst decision you could have ever made. He looks…broken.
"I've got you, Jjongie," you whisper softly, squeezing his chin as almost a gentle pinch, to prove you’re not letting him go. This instantly relaxes Jongseong, though, his hands still grip onto you for dear life. His friends go to help you, break him away and buckle him in the backseat, but you halt them with a firm gesture, "You guys can go, I've got it from here."
Sunghoon shakes his head, heavy concern etched on his face. "No way. He's too heavy, Y/N. You won't be able to manage him into the apartment without us.”
But you stand your ground. This is your and Jongseong's mess, and you can’t let others help you clean it up. "It's okay. You guys have done your shift for tonight. Go home," you insist, your voice resolute and brooking no argument.
Reluctantly, Sunghoon and Jake nod, still teetering on the edge of arguing with you. But, they know better and bid you goodnight before going their separate ways home, leaving you alone with Jongseong and the weight of your shared history.
Taking a deep breath, you hoist him in, his body listening to you a little more now that you’ve reassured him you aren’t leaving him. He sprawls over the backseats and lays still, the alcohol consuming him into some form of comatose. You’ve been in this state before too, so you can recognise the blackout glaze that he’s trying to fight away as he keeps his eyes on you. He’s so scared you’ll just vanish into thin air. “I’m right here. Go to sleep.”
Surprisingly, he listens to your reassurance, closing his eyes and drifting off, allowing you to slide into the driver's seat. You turn the keys as the engine begins humming to life beneath you. Glancing at Jongseong's slumbering form in the rearview mirror, you steel yourself for the journey ahead.
_____
Arriving at his house fills you with a nervous energy that tightens in your chest. This wasn’t just his flat—it used to be your shared home. For two and a half years, this place held countless, irreplaceable memories, moments you thought you’d cherish forever.
You were the one who left, finding a new place closer to work and convincing yourself it was the practical choice. But deep down, you knew the real reason: you couldn’t bear the constant reminders of him that lingered in every room, every piece of furniture, every shadow of your life together.
Looking back now, it feels selfish. You left him here, surrounded by the remnants of your relationship, without considering how he might feel. While you escaped to a fresh start, he was left to live among the echoes of what you once had.
Lugging him into the flat, his legs are working in tandem with you now unlike before but he still isn’t proving to be the easiest person to carry. The last time you had to hold his weight like this was when he got drunk at your prom after taking sneaky shots in the hotel garden with his friends. It was funny, but you blame him for some of your back pain that you’ve endured in your early twenties.
As you push open the door and step into the living room, a wave of nostalgia washes over you like a tsunami. Though only seven months have passed, it feels like a lifetime since you last stood in this space with him by your side. Everything remains unchanged, frozen in time since the day you left. 
The same couch sits in its familiar spot, adorned with throw pillows and blankets you bought for last season. Photographs of you both, captured during Christmases and holidays, adorn the walls, each one a snapshot of happier times when life seemed so simple and easy. Even the vase that his mum had gotten you both for your housewarming gift, one that you loved and he hated, remains in its pride of place on the mantlepiece.
You shake the thoughts away and guide Jongseong toward the bedroom. Each step feels heavy, as you’re encompassed with memories that surround you. He’s been living in a time capsule, and while you’re struggling to look at it all now, you wonder how he has managed to endure it for all these months.
His arm is slung over your shoulder as his weight presses down on you, however, it’s the feeling of his nose brushing against your hair that nearly stops you in your tracks. He breathes in deeply, and for a brief moment, it feels like he’s trying to ground himself in the familiarity of you.
You help Jongseong onto the bed, propping him up carefully. “I’m going to grab you some clean boxers, okay?” you say softly. He doesn’t respond, lost in his own haze, so you move toward the drawers on the other side of the room.
Walking over, you spot a familiar t-shirt lying crumpled on your old side of the bed. You make a b-line to investigate it and as you pick up the crumpled t-shirt, a flood of memories washes over you, transporting you back to simpler times. Your fingers trace the familiar fabric, still faintly carrying the scent of you, now mingled with his cologne. You piece it all together pretty quickly, the way it still smells faintly of you but is not starting to be overpowered by his cologne. He hugs it at night to find peace of mind.
“Oh, Jjongie,” you sigh, heart reaching out to him. You’re no better, you have one of his hoodies that you snuck into your luggage as you packed and wear it when you’re at home. Just like your t-shirt, his hoodie is starting to lose its scent from the amount of times you’ve hugged yourself to sleep in it.
You’re no better, though. You think of the hoodie you tucked into your suitcase before you left, the one you’ve worn so many times on nights when the loneliness felt unbearable. Its scent is fading too, just like this shirt, but you still cling to it, just as he clings to this. Both of you, in your own quiet ways, are holding onto the fragments of a love neither of you has been able to let go of.
Jongseong has always been reserved, his emotions carefully guarded behind a facade of reason and rationale. To see him like this, vulnerable and raw, strikes a chord deep within you. If he had always worn his heart on his sleeve, perhaps it would be easier to understand. But the complexity of his emotions only serves to deepen the ache in your chest.
You place the t-shirt back on the pillow before opening the dresser drawer and retrieve a clean pair of boxers, his favourite ones with the faded Hello Kitty print that you've always teased him about.
Gently, you begin to undress him while he rambles incoherent nonsense that you can’t understand between the mix of tears and drunk slurring. The top half is easy but the bottom half proves difficult as he only looks up at you, whispering pleas as he stares at you, keeping his bum firmly sat on the edge of the bed.
As you finally manage to remove Jongseong's jeans and boxers, leaving him naked, a new layer of vulnerability settles over the room. He sits before you bathed in the soft glow of the hallway light, his silhouette outlined in the darkness.
"Stay with me," he whispers, his voice a gentle plea as his hands begin to roam your sides, tracing the contours of your body beneath your shirt. Each touch ignites a flurry of sensations within you, sending butterflies fluttering in your stomach.
His beauty, illuminated by the faint light, is both captivating and heartbreaking. The familiarity of his form, once etched in your memory, now lays before you in the flesh, a tangible reminder of the love you still harbour for him. How could you not still love him? He was perfect in every way possible.
He pulls you onto his lap, your sweatpants becoming the barrier between his cock and your pussy. Yet, none of you are really thinking about that right now, all you both want is to hold one another again.
“Jongseong, we broke up, and for good reason,” you rationalise with not only him but yourself as you find yourself sinking into his touch as his hands roam your back.
Nuzzling his nose against yours, he begins to cry softly again, his face rubbing itself against yours as his tears transfer from his cheeks to yours, “Please, baby, don’t leave me,” he 
mumbles as his lips ghost over yours. 
He doesn’t just mean tonight, he means forever. A tear from your eye cascades down your face, getting lost in the mixture of his, your empathy for him overwhelming you because you feel the same way he does. You need him in every way, you need to be close to him, to feel his heart beating in synch with yours once again.
But you know better than this. You’re both just prolonging heartache if you succumb to being with him again. You can’t give each other what you need.
“Baby, don’t do this,” you beg him, knowing that he has the power to pull you back into his life with the click of his fingers, that resolve you have worked so hard to build up now hangs in the balance, “Let me get you changed and then into bed, yeah?”
Reasoning with him is a lost cause, his arms now hugging you tightly like before as he ignores your suggestion. The last thing he wants is to put on those boxers because he knows when he does that you’ll leave. 
"Please, baby," his voice is raw with emotion, his desperation palpable in the air between you. And as you look into his eyes, you see the depth of his longing mirrored in your own. 
His plea hangs in the air, a heavy weight pressing down on your already burdened heart. You feel torn between the overwhelming desire to give in to his request and the harsh reality of the situation.
With a deep breath, you summon the strength to gently extricate yourself from his embrace, feeling the weight of his disappointment lingering in the air. His hurt expression tugs at your heartstrings, but you shake your head firmly, "Just tonight, okay?" you assure him, your voice soft but resolute.
Curse you and your heart that caves into his pleas so easily.
You disregard getting him dressed and instead, remove your sweatpants and replace them with those very boxers you planned to adorn him with and swap out your t-shirt for the one on your old pillow. Jongseong clumsily climbs into his covers, getting comfortable and finding some happiness in the fact that you’ll be in his arms at least for a little while. 
Once you climb into your side of the bed, he instinctively hugs you from behind, the comfort of your body pressed against his. He spoons you from behind, tucking his face in your neck as he exhales in contentment. This is all he has been craving since that night you left and he couldn’t be happier. All the turmoil and anguish from earlier slowly depletes as he finds himself sinking into a much-needed sleep.
You can’t deny you feel the same, his arms wrapped around you feel like home, like you’ve been on a seven-month business trip and you’re now finally back where you belong. You sink into him further, relishing his skin against yours.
“Happy birthday, Jjongie,” you whisper, bringing his hand up to kiss it before intertwining your fingers with his.
_____
Waking up, Jongseong feels like his whole body has crashed into a brick wall. His bones ache and his head feels tight, but there is a weight that feels so familiar yet foreign, his legs tangled around something and his arms holding it close. This feels different from the t-shirt of yours he clings to every night, this has more substance.
Please don’t be some random girl he thinks to himself, scared to open his eyes. 
Even if he wanted to open his eyes, he couldn’t - they were sealed shut, held together by something stubborn. Had he been crying last night? Wait, what did happen last night?
Fragments of the evening begin to resurface as he sifts through the haze: Jake and Sunghoon dragging him to Haven, the chaotic vibe of the bar, and the questionable decision to ride the mechanical bull. After that? A blank.
As he struggles to piece it all together, you watch him futilely attempt to pry his eyes open. Deciding to help, you gently swipe your thumb across his lids, clearing away the dried remnants of tears and sleep. His body tenses at your touch, his expression clouded with confusion.
Was he hallucinating? The sensation felt so real - too real. Or maybe the girl he brought home last night had a touch uncannily like yours. God, he hoped it was the first one.
Opening his eyes with your help, he blinks away the blur and sets his eyes on your face, his expression reading one of relief that quickly turns into astonishment.
“Y/N? Baby?” he whispers, his hands instinctively reaching for your cheek, “Please be real.” The same words he pleaded out last night leave his lips again. Jongseong has spent so many nights dreaming of you, wishing in an alternative universe that he can hold you again, so much so that this doesn’t feel real.
You don’t know what to say but obviously, you have to say something. It was one thing to confront drunk Jongseong who didn’t have a wit about him but now it feels like there’s a boulder on your chest as you try to conjure up the courage to speak to a sober, semi-alert Jongseong. 
All you can do is nod, no words escaping your dried lips. You look down to see you and his limbs mangled together just like they used to be, the feeling of his body pressed so tightly against yours almost feels like heaven.
He takes in the sight of you, the lines of disbelief on his features soften, replaced by a glimmer of hope. Slowly, almost tentatively, he reaches out to you, his fingers brushing against your cheek as if to confirm your presence.
The touch sends a jolt of electricity coursing through you, he’s caressing your cheek so tenderly it reminds you of the time you had the shift from hell and Jongseong held you the whole night, whispering sweet words into your ear and stroking your tears away, just like this.
Except there are no tears this time, you’re all cried out - months of mourning the loss of your relationship will do that to you.
As Jongseong's eyes meet yours, a flicker of recognition passes through them, followed by a wave of embarrassment. His voice is soft as he speaks, a hint of uncertainty lacing his words, "What are you doing here?" he asks, his tone laden with confusion.
"You got pretty drunk last night," understatement "And Jake asked me to come pick you up."
You can feel the tension in the air as Jongseong processes your words, his expression a mixture of shame and regret, "Sorry, I don't usually drink that much," he murmurs, his voice tinged with remorse.
The explanation stings, not because Jongseong has been drinking more, but because of the distance it creates between you. It's as if he's explaining himself to a stranger, rather than to the person who once knew him better than anyone else. The past six years you’ve known how he knows his limit and that he doesn’t tend to breach it, not subconsciously. 
All you do is nod, accepting his explanation as you slowly start to detangle yourself from him, “I better get going.”
“Y/N, please let's talk,” he pleads as his voice wavers, his grip tightening around your waist, and his desperation palpable as he pleads for your attention. But you've made up your mind, and no amount of persuasion can sway you from the path you've chosen.
"Jongseong, please, let's not do this," you implore, your voice tinged with a mixture of sorrow and resolve, "We're only going to hurt ourselves again."
You both know the reasons behind your breakup are deeply rooted, immutable truths that cannot be changed. It's not a matter of cheating or petty disagreements - this is about fundamental differences in desires and aspirations for the future.
But Jongseong refuses to accept defeat, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he breathes his love out, "Princess, we can work it out, I know we can," he insists, his words heavy with sincerity.
You steel yourself against the onslaught of his love, knowing that to give in would only prolong the inevitable pain, "We want different things, Jjongie," you remind him gently, your voice tinged with regret.
“I can do without them. It’s you I can’t live without…I can’t breathe without you here by my side.” His words are sincere and you know it, but you can’t accept it. When you both discussed your future, he looked so excited at the prospect of kids that your heart broke instantly. You knew right away that you couldn’t give him what he wanted most.
Closing your eyes and sucking in the bottom of your cheeks, you steady yourself to have this conversation yet again, “You can’t give up the idea of having kids. Having the life you want is much more important than me. You can find someone who can give you that.”
It hurts to say but you need to rip the bandaid off quickly. 
“You think I want that life with anyone but you?” His voice raises lightly, hinting at the anger rising into his chest. He needs you to listen to him, to understand him, “Y/N, if it’s not with you then I don’t want that life.”
Shaking your head determinedly, you sit up, “But I can’t give you that life, it’s not what I want.” You feel like you’re reliving the argument that ended it all those months ago.
“That’s okay-”
“No, It’s not,” It’s your turn to get angry and interrupt him, your eyebrows lacing together as you try to read him. How can he say all of this so easily? Like he wasn’t trying to promise you that he would change his entire life plan just to be with you. Is it romantic? Sure, but it’s also fucking stupid. No one should change just to keep someone they love because if they were meant to be, then their values would align…right?
"It's not that simple, Jongseong," you argue through the silence, your voice tinged with frustration, "You can't just sweep aside your dreams for the sake of our relationship. What about what you want? What about your own happiness?"
Jongseong sits up, the covers hiding his naked lower half; he hadn’t realised he was naked and it only adds a new layer to his vulnerability. He is truly laying himself bare to you.
But Jongseong's gaze remains unwavering, his determination evident in the set of his jaw, "Since we broke up, I've realised that you are the life I want," he declares, his words carrying the weight of his conviction, "Whatever that looks like for you, I want it."
You feel his words like a pickaxe, slowly breaking away at the wall you’ve spent months building around your heart and reason. A whirlwind of conflicting emotions sweeps over you. On one hand, his declaration of love sparks a glimmer of hope amidst the ruins of your fractured relationship. Yet, on the other hand, doubt claws at your insides, gnawing away at any semblance of certainty, the pure love that you have for him only wishes to make sure he’s happy and gets everything he wants in life.
"Jongseong, I..." you start, your voice wavering as you grapple with the turmoil inside. How do you express the depth of your feelings?
Grabbing your face with his large hands, he kisses you, his soft lips now coating yours. You’ve missed him so much that you become overwhelmed by his actions, a soft tear leaking from your ducts.
So much for being all cried out, you think to yourself.
"It's you, Y/N, I only need you," Jongseong whispers against your lips, his urgency evident as he seeks solace in the warmth of your embrace, stealing kisses with a hunger born from longing.
In spite of yourself, you find your lips responding to his touch, drawn in by the familiar sensation of his mouth against yours. Your arms instinctively wrap around him, fingers grazing lightly over the muscles of his back as you hold him close; your brain is telling you to push him away but your heart is pulling him tighter to you. 
"It's not fair to you, Jjongie," you murmur, the words weighted with a sense of guilt and remorse.
"I'd rather be with you happily than with kids and someone else miserably," Jongseong confesses, his words carrying the weight of his heart's deepest desires.
Jongseong wishes you could see it from his point of view; of course, he has wanted kids and a comfortable life for so long but the idea of achieving that when you are not his wife seems fucking ridiculous. There is no one in this world he wants to be with other than you and if that means he has to be an uncle rather than a dad, so be it.
You are all he has ever wanted. To grow old with you, to experience each of your accomplishments together and have you close to him. He wants to protect you and look after you the way he knows he should and that is his new life goal. This isn’t a decision he has made lightly but a decision he wanted to make.
His hands glide down your sides, trailing over your thighs as his kisses continue, each touch a manifestation of the craving that has consumed him. His need for you is overwhelming, every fibre of his being yearning for you in every possible way. Another moment without you feels unbearable, as if he might die.
You surrender to his touch, sinking back onto the bed as he hovers above you, his grip on your thighs firm yet tender. The intensity of his desire leaves marks, but in this moment, you welcome anything he offers.
It's astonishing how the feel of his lips on yours dismantles your resolve, scattering your apprehensions like leaves in the wind.
Slowly, he removes from you the t-shirt that has absorbed his tears on countless nights and the boxers you borrowed from him, leaving you exposed beneath him. As he looks upon your naked figure, his eyes drink in every curve and contour, offering silent gratitude to the heavens for letting him have you like this. You are everything he wants and more.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N,” he whispers into your mouth as he presses his body hard against yours, his member rubbing itself against your folds. 
The feeling of him rubbing against you is enough to elicit a moan. No amount of toys was enough to satisfy you, not the way Jongseong could. Over the years you learned about one another’s bodies so intimately that no one could ever know you the way he does, not even yourself. 
You couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping with someone else, even if you and Jongseong had broken up, your heart couldn’t do it. You never even considered a one night stand because deep down you knew that your body belonged to Jongseong and no one else.
He moves his hips, slowly rubbing himself against you, the bell of his cock grazing your clit teasingly. It feels like a dream for him to touch you this way again, and the fact that you were coating his cock with your wetness was enough to tell him that you need this too.
Kissing you desperately, his tongue darts into your mouth and swirls with yours as he seeks to taste you, his buds dancing along with yours. He moans into your mouth and acts as an echo of his love for you.
“I missed you so much,” he whispers as his hips continue to move slowly, teasing your hole with his tip each time he draws back. It’s becoming increasingly obvious how much it’s starting to irritate you, your need to have him inside you is evident in your whines of frustration.
"I missed you too, baby. More than anything," you confess, your hand finding his cock as you press against him, seeking to create greater friction between you. With each movement, the pressure builds, sending waves of pleasure coursing through both of you.
With each synchronised movement, the tension between you mounts, the desire for one another lingering in the warm air. His hips continue their slow, teasing rhythm, each brush against your core sending sparks of want up your heat and into your chest.
Feeling the urgency building within you, you guide his cock with precision, pressing it against your eager entrance. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you feel the head of his length dip into you only slightly, the anticipation of being filled with him heightening your senses.
"Please," you whisper, your voice laden with need and longing, a plea for him to take you.
With a teasing grin, Jongseong relents to your plea, but not in the way you expected. Instead of thrusting into you the way you want him to, he trails his fingertips along the curves of your body, igniting a trail of fire in his wake. His touch is light and tantalising, tracing patterns across your skin as he savours every moment. He wants to take his time with you, no matter how much his dick longs to be surrounded by your walls.
You like to be teased even for a little bit, the payoff at the end always hits the right spot.
You squirm beneath his touch, aching for more, but he continues with deliberate slowness. His fingers dance over your heated flesh, exploring every inch of your body with an intimacy that leaves you breathless. Each caress sends shivers down your spine, building the anticipation to unbearable heights. God, you missed his hands all over you.
As his right hand dips lower, he begins tracing circles around your sensitive clit and you can't help but arch your back in pleasure, a soft moan escaping your lips. The sensation is electrifying, sending waves coursing through your body as he expertly teases you.
Feeling your body tremble with anticipation, his touch becomes more urgent as he presses his fingers against your throbbing clit h and with practised skill, he begins to move faster, applying just the right amount of pressure to have you writhing beneath him.
“You look so fucking perfect, all desperate and whiney like this, Princess,” he says as he leans down to kiss you, breathing in deeply through his nose as he tries to fill each of his senses with you. It wasn’t just enough to feel you, he wanted to taste you, to inhale your scent, to hear you cry out for him, to see you unravel beneath him.
Your breath catches in your throat as the intensity of his touch sends you spiralling towards the edge of bliss. Each stroke of his fingers drives you closer to the brink, your body humming with the need to let go.
But just as you feel yourself teetering on the edge, Jongseong suddenly slows his movements, drawing out the pleasure with agonising slowness. It's a torturous tease, the brief moments of intensity followed by long, drawn-out strokes that leave you gasping for more.
“Please, please, please, Jjongie,” you whimper in frustration, your body aching for release as Jongseong continues to play you like a symphony, alternating between fast and slow, building the tension to unbearable levels. Just when you think you can't take it anymore, he finally gives in, his fingers dipping into your heat and thrusting into you at a rough pace, your pussy soaking his digits as he coaxes out your orgasm.
“You’re clamping down on my fingers so hard, Baby, you gonna cum?” he asks arrogantly, knowing that with each curl of his finger, he is watching your body lose control and surrender to him.
Nodding quickly, you pull him down for a long, searing kiss as his thumb joins the party and flicks your clit rapidly, “Oh my god,” you moan out into his mouth through bated breaths, “I’m gonna cum, Jongseong, please can I cum?”
“You never have to ask baby,” he moves his mouth to your ear and lightly nibbles your lobe, “Cum for me, Princess,” he gently commands.
Jongseong continues to work his magic, his fingers moving with expert precision as he guides you through the throes of ecstasy. Your vision blurs and every nerve in your body hums with pleasure as you reach the pinnacle of bliss.
With a final, desperate cry, you let go, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You arch your back and cry out his name as pleasure consumes you, your body trembling with the intensity of it all.
His fingers remain still inside you, but his thumb maintains its relentless pace, each swipe sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. Your hips instinctively twitch in response, your nub throbbing with sensitivity and yearning for a respite. Yet, Jongseong shows no signs of letting up, his determined flicking only intensifying.
"You like that, baby?" Jongseong's voice is hoarse with desire as he intently watches your reactions. His eyes are dark with need as he continues to work you with wild desire. 
Your senses are overwhelmed by sensations pouring through you, so you can only respond with a gasping nod. Every single nerve in your body is buzzing with ecstasy, and all you can think of is the delicious agony of his thumb against your delicate clit.
"Tell me what you want, Princess," he asks, his voice a seductive whisper in your ear, "Do you want more?"
You can only make a frantic plea, your words barely comprehensible in the middle of intense pleasure. "Yes, please, Jongseong... More..."
Jongseong's lips curl into a wicked grin as he hears your plea, his confidence growing with each breathless gasp that escapes your lips. With a teasing twinkle in his eye, he moves his fingers again, pressing them against your contracting walls, his hot breath ghosting over your ear as he speaks.
"What do you want, Y/N?" he whispers, his voice dripping with anticipation, "Tell me, and I'll give it to you."
Your mind is a haze of desire, but amidst the fog, one thought stands out clear and demanding. You need him inside you, filling you completely with his presence. With trembling hands, you reach for him, your fingers curling around his cock, guiding him to where you need him most, pushing his hand out of the way.
"I want you," you whisper, your voice trembling with need. "I want all of you, Jongseong." When you utter the words, there’s a deeper meaning to them, a meaning that Jongseong is clinging to.
The way your fingers wrap around his rock-hard member elicits a hiss from him, your touch mixed with your words only fuels him to give you everything you need. 
Jongseong lets out a guttural groan, entirely surrendering to your touch and words. His eyes darken with want as he watches you take control, and his breath quickens with anticipation as you guide him inside you. His breath coming in ragged gasps, he looks into your eyes with a mixture of desire and adoration, "God, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice rough with need, “You feel so fucking incredible. I’ve missed how you just suck me in like this.”
You look down and watch as his entire length gets lost in your heat, his cock’s head hitting deep within you. You’ve missed how he fills you up so much but you hadn’t realised just how badly until right now as he shallowly thrusts into you.
You respond with a low moan of pleasure, your nails digging into his skin as you pull him closer, urging him to go deeper. "Yes, Jongseong," you whisper, your voice laced with longing, "just like that. I need this so much, I need you."
With each thrust, he grunts in response, his movements becoming more desperate as he seeks to satisfy your every desire, "I'm yours, Y/N," he declares, his voice filled with raw emotion, "completely and utterly yours."
As he lifts your legs and closes them, gently draping them over his left shoulder, your warmth envelops his shaft, drawing him in closer. Jongseong relishes the sensation of your tightness, revelling in the snug embrace of your canal around him. And you too find delight in the pressure of his girth, relishing the way he stretches you further with every powerful thrust.
Each movement of his hips is deliberate, each one designed to bring you both closer to the edge of ecstasy. As his hands stroke your legs tenderly, contrasting with the intensity of his thrusts, you find yourself lost in the intoxicating rhythm of your bodies moving as one.
His jerks grow more intense, the pace quickening as he drives deeper into you, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge, "You feel so good," he groans, his voice filled with unrestrained passion, "so fucking perfect for me, Princess."
In response, you curve your back and meet his thrusts with equal conviction, the heat between you building to an almost euphoric level. "Jongseong," you exclaim, your voice a symphony of fulfilment, "don't stop, please don't stop."
Jongseong intensifies his efforts with a wild growl, each movement driven by a burning need to push you to the edge of satisfaction and beyond. At this moment, there is only you and him, burned by the fires of passion.
With a swift motion, your lover bends you in half, positioning your legs by your head as he quickens his already rapid pace. Lost in a whirlwind of desire, your eyes roll back and your hands instinctively grip his shoulders, your chest heaving with each forceful thrust of his cock. Your nails dig into his skin, leaving marks on his shoulder blades as you cling to him, lost in the intensity of the moment.
Feeling the sting of your nails, he grits his teeth and strains his neck, the veins in his temples pulsating as he fights the overwhelming urge to release inside you right then and there.
“Fuck, claw my back, Baby,” he growls, his voice thick with desire, “make me yours again.” With determination, he continues to pound into you, each movement bringing you closer to your shared orgasm.
After hearing Jongseong’s go-ahead, you dig into his back, dragging your nails across his skin, leaving fiery red lines in their wake, just like he wants. It burns him in the most delectable way, making his cock throb inside of you.
Your breaths combine in the air, creating an ensemble of desire as you both reach the edge. The tension between you grows with each thrust, a crescendo of want reaching its peak.
As he slams into you furiously, his voice fills the room with urgency, "You gonna cum again, Princess? You want it?" His words are a mixture of want and domination, starting a fire inside you that threatens to consume everything in its path.
With a firm nod, you meet his gaze, your eyes brimming with want. "Yes, Jongseong, please," you beg, your voice a frantic appeal for release once again.
In response, he increases his efforts, his motions growing more frenzied as he propels you both to your orgasms. And then, with a final, strong thrust, you shatter, your body convulsing from the ferocity of your release. Jongseong follows closely behind, his own climax mirroring yours as he finds release within you, “Fuck!” 
His body stills as he shoots his seed into you, the tremble of both your bodies vibrates the bed beneath you. Finding it hard to keep himself up, he falls onto you, moving his cock into you further, only drawing out a final moan from your lips.
After a couple of minutes, Jongseong rolls over, his chest heaving up and down rapidly. God, he missed the way you feel under him, he could go another ten rounds if you asked. 
But that would mean you would stay, and is that even something you want? He doesn’t want to ask, your answer being the deciding factor of whether he goes on his life with misery or happiness.
He knows he can’t force you into this relationship but he hopes he has done enough to convince you that you are all he wants.
“Please be with me again, Y/N. I can’t live without you,” he whispers into the air, not daring to look at you.
You on the other hand only want to look at him, to see if you can really try this again, “Even if it means no kids? No playdates with other parents? No family trips to Jeju?”
“Even without all that.” He does look sincere, his eyes now burning into yours with a new lease of determination.
The truth is, you’ve missed him so much that it hurts. Behind the strong facade is just a girl who misses her lover. Being without him is like being in a fire with no escape, constantly fighting your way out of a blaze while your lungs collapse. He’s the clear path to fresh air you desperately need, there is no denying it. And clearly, he thinks the same about you. 
Seeing him last night so fragile and broken engulfed you in the flames, burning you alive because you know that you feel every ounce of hurt that he is. It was a mirror to how you were feeling and you don’t think you knew how badly you needed him until that moment. You were trying to be so strong about it all, giving yourself only a short amount of time to grieve that as you looked at Jongseong last night, you know he has done the same.
You need one another to extinguish the fire.
“Jongseong, truly think about this, this isn’t me saying no to letting you go on a lads holiday, I’m denying you the opportunity to be a father,” you plead with him one last time, giving him an out to all of this as you lay it all on the table.
“Princess, I have had seven months to think about it. I am not compromising or altering my needs for you, this is a decision that I have made on my own. If I truly wanted the life I thought I did, I wouldn’t be begging you to be with me right now. I know this isn’t an easy choice but I have never been more sure about anything in my life.” 
Jongseong kisses all over your face, each one a receipt of his sincerity.
His words strike straight into your heart. He’s serious. A part of you wants to still feel guilty like you’re forcing him into this but on the other hand, he’s right. You’ve given him a multitude of opportunities to leave and find a girl who will cater to him, but he hasn’t. 
He doesn’t need to because all he needs is you and your love, to Jongseong, that is all he needs in his life.
“Okay, but if you ever change your min-”
He interjects with a kiss, one filled with so much happiness and love that it’s almost intoxicating; either that or all the booze in his system has transferred its way into your bloodstream. 
You giggle as he rolls over on top of you again, peppering loud and wet kisses all over your face and neck akin to a dog licking you from utter joy. Your hands try to fight him off playfully, your laugh growing louder as he nuzzles into your neck.
“Oh, wait!” Your lover's sudden pause catches your attention, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he swiftly rolls off the bed and rushes over to the messy pile on the chair by his dresser.
Curious, you crane your neck to see what he's up to, watching as he retrieves something from the floor.
“What is it?” you inquire, intrigued by his enthusiasm.
Turning back to you, Jongseong holds up the familiar torn sheet of paper that you recognise instantly, his smile lighting up his face. He grabs a pen from the desk and returns to your side, handing you both items.
“Tick it off,” he urges, pointing to the bottom of the page where a new addition was made yesterday morning. Despite his internal conflict about the list, he couldn't bring himself to tear it up. If he never saw you again, this would be a precious memory to hold onto.
So he added a new aspiration at the bottom.
Taking the pen from his hand, you read it slowly, “Make Y/N mine again..”
You gaze up at him in awe, understanding the significance of this gesture and how much the list means to him, “You wished for this?” you ask, to which he simply nods at your question, “Then you need to tick it off.” You push the pen and paper back to him but he stops you.
“No, you made the wish come true, so you need to tick it off,” he replies, the corners of his lips upturning slightly.
So, with the pen, you draw a line over the words, scoring it off once and for all as you beam proudly, happy that both of your souls are now joined together again. You pull him in for a long, deep kiss, the bucket list discarded as you lose yourselves in the moment once again.
“Happy birthday, Jjongie,” you say, even if you are a day late.
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dcxdpdabbles · 1 day ago
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#Holiday requests If you're not too busy I would love another part to cinnamon rolls son. Love your writing, it really is a great inspiration, you got me out of my own writing slump.
The Justice League was at their wits ends with Dan. Disaster struck no matter what they attempted to ensure he developed some softer traits.
First, Barry had the bright idea to show him the wonders of volunteer work to help the community. If he could value the life of humans, surely he wouldn't destroy it in the far future. As a teenager, Barry had punched hours of volunteering in the local hospital to play and read to the sick children in bed.
He had done it because he enjoyed making children smile and built up his resume for college. Barry was many things, but being wealthy enough to afford college wasn't one of them. He wanted to apply for as many scholarships as possible, so he started his community service campaign from an early age.
On the first day of their community service, Barry had taken him to clean up the local beach. An hour into the work, a shark had been spotted near the swimmers, and Dan had dived in to rescue a little girl from its jaws.
Dan had been hailed a hero until he picked up the girl's father and threw him into the water towards said shark. The father had ignored his seven-year-old daughter for his mistress. Apparently, once Dan overheard the man panicking more about his wife finding out the beach father-daughter beach day was just an excuse to cheat on her than his crying daughter in the ambulance, Dan had figured he needed to be taught a lesson.
Dan stood over him while the man screamed and splashed, pointing and laughing. Were it not for the Flash's sudden appearance, well....Dan may have actually fed that cheating cum bag to the sharks.
Bruce added it to the shared drive, asking Barry to include a complete detailed report, by the hour, of what happened. They figured they could analyze Dan and find what could make him snap.
Next, Clark took Dan to his family farm. He claimed nothing brought up good children like his mother and father's gentle but firm parenting,g plus the wonders of the hard farmer life. Clark was sure Dan would enjoy all the open space, the animals, and working in the fields.
Within the hour of the pair arriving at the farm, Dan happily weeded around the field. Clark was somewhat surprised by how quick he took to the job. He went inside to help Ma ready some pie and Clark's legendary lemonade as a reward.
It only took a few minutes since Ma had already put the pie to cook before they arrived. The two were gone long enough that Clark could make a nice pitcher and take a few seconds to smell the mouthwatering pie.
He went back into the field carrying a tray of a plated two-slice pie and a cold glass cup, only to stop dead in his tracks. Dan was kneeling, laughing manically towards the sky, within the circle of burning weeds.
The flames were a green and black color. Its dark smoke shifted into what appeared to be screaming humans. The worst part, however, was the lines of what appeared to be renamed scarecrows wearing shackles as they harvest Pa's cornfield.
Clark was horrified.
Batman had added to the drive, "Gave life to inanimate things just to enslave them."
Hal was the next one to try, but no one knew what happened on their Become A Better Person trip. Hal refused to place a report, only stating that he could never look at Hawaiian pizza again. He threw up when Barry brought one in for a long meeting.
At least Phantom seemed happy they were still attempting to save his son. His daughter was also more well-behaved, spending most of her days traveling. It was strange to associate her with Phantom because if there was one thing Dani liked to do, it was pick fights.
She had fought through Darkside's defenses to challenge him to a pie-eating contest. She freed half of his planet on her way out, but not before beating them up to get them to listen.
Her father would have spent time trying to do things peacefully. Not Dani. She did stuff through her fists.
Batman had added classifications to the three ghosts in the file. Phantom was Lawfully good, Dani Chaotic good, and Dan was marked as Chaotic neutral. The rest of the league suspects that his children added those, but no one was brave enough to point it out.
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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 2 days ago
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(Dark!) BNHA: Wanting a break from the relationship
▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.
More at Masterlist
Female Reader
Boys -> Hawks + Dabi + Deku
Reaction: Attempting to ask for a break in your relationship massively back fires against you - something you should've known.
WARNINGS: Toxic Relationship; Abuse; Manipulation.
AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback 😊
You: “You know I love you right?” you start, hesitating for a brief moment. “But I think this isn’t working …maybe we should take a break.”
Hawks
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“You know what? You’re absolutely right. We really need a good relaxing break, don’t we?” you’re not expecting Keigo to agree with you, and he laughs at the shock on your face. “How do we feel about Hawaii? You always wanted to go there, right?”
Confusion replaces the shock you felt just brief moments ago. You stare at Keigo, bewildered at the strange turn of the conversation. 
“What are you talking about?” you question. 
“What are you talking about, my adorably confusing girlfriend?” he laughs it off, humorously. “You said we need a break and I totally agree with that. Plus, I think a romantic getaway is just what we need right now, it’s about time we get some vacations.” 
“No, Keigo.” you stop him, “What I mean is that we should take a break from each other. Give it some time, y’know.” 
There’s a moment of quiet silence and Keigo’s smiles, a stiff and hard smile that does a good job covering up the upset clenching of his jaw.  
“Aren’t you being a tad bit dramatic with that? I mean, we’re perfectly totally completely fine, so what’s with that idea?” he questions you. “Why you tryna break something so perfect? Let me guess, attachment issues flaring up?”
“Because it’s not perfect, Keigo.” you answer back, a bit annoyed. “And we’re not fine, despite what you think. If you haven’t noticed, then maybe you’re not very clever, are you?” 
That golden gaze, usually so warm, now burns with an intensity that makes your throat tighten and a wave of regret immediately washes over you. 
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” he agrees, slowly dragging each word. “Maybe I’m not very clever. Cause if I was more clever, then maybe I would have noticed that you have a tendency to be overly dramatic.” 
The turn of the conversation leaves you stunned. What?
“Dramatic?” you echo, forcing your voice to stay steady. “Keigo, we’ve been fighting constantly. You don’t listen, and I feel like I’m—”
“—Like you’re what? Neglected? Trapped?” he cuts you off, before stepping closer, and though his wings didn’t move, you feel their phantom weight pressing down on you. “Babe, everything I do is for you. For us.”
“I work myself to the bone to make sure you have everything you’ve ever dreamed of. Don’t I?” his words pinch your heart. “And this is how you repay me? By wanting space? After everything I’ve done for you?”
“It’s not about what you’ve done, Keigo. It’s about how I feel. I just... need time to think. And maybe so do you.”
“Time to think? What’s there to think about, sweetheart?” he huffs, “Who’s going to protect you, take care of you, if you leave? Hmm?”
His wings extend slightly to frame you both in the narrow hallway.
“Keigo, I—”
“Shh.” He pressed a finger to your lips, his eyes softening into something almost tender. “You’re upset right now, and that’s okay. But leaving isn’t the answer, dove. You belong here. With me.”
Keigo cups your cheek, so tenderly and affectionately that it clenches your heart. His smile returns, warm and reassuring, as if nothing had happened. 
“Tell you what - let’s forget all this nonsense. How about I book that trip to Hawaii after all? A fresh start, just the two of us. You’ll see how perfect we are together.”
You want to protest, to grab your suitcase and leave, but his wings curl around you in a protective cocoon, and the weight of his touch - his words - render you paralyzed.
Somewhere deep down, a small voice screams at you to run. But Keigo’s voice, low and honeyed, drowns it out.
“See? Everything’s going to be fine,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You don’t need to go anywhere, dove. I’ll make sure of it.”
And you know, with a sinking certainty, that he meant it.
Dabi
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The way his ice-blue eyes stare at you is chilling, to say the least. Dabi looks at you intently as if trying to discover something. 
“Do you remember when we started dating?” he asks at last, leaving you surprised at the random question. “That night on the rooftop where you become mine.”
You slowly nod, unsure of what he meant. It’s only been six months since your relation became official, but it feels as if it’s been a lifetime ago.
There’s been so many major changes in it - you changed, Dabi changed, everything about your relationship changed. And not for the better. 
“Good. Then you also remember when I told you - no - when I promised you that you’d never get fully rid of me, if you said yes. That you’d become mine, til your last breath.” his voice deepens at each step he takes towards you, looming and dark.
“That we’d be intertwined for the rest of our lives. That nothing would stop us from being together, no matter what.”
Shivers run down your spine, and you find yourself paralyzed. Frozen. No matter how much you attempt, your limbs won’t move. You’re completely frozen with fear. 
“Then tell me…” Dabi nears you, looking more mutilated and burned than ever. His hand rises, softly brushing against your cheek and it takes everything in you not to flinch away. “... why are you suddenly too good for me?”
“It’s not like that ….”
Your meek attempt of protesting is quickly silenced when his other hand grips you by the elbow, too firm for you to slip away. He cages you with his body and hands and you are too nervous to stop the sweat that builds up in your back. 
“Go on now, don’t be shy. I wanna hear all the pathetic excuses you got.” he dryly chuckles, slightly heating up his hand or maybe it’s just an illusion of your body, at this time you’re not sure anymore. “Tell me all about it. I’m looking forward to hearing you spew out all sorts of miserable apologies and justifications you can find.”
“Or maybe you’re planning to use the good old excuse everyone uses these days. It’s you, not me.” Dabi mocks you, but the lack of humor in his voice is evident. 
“Dabi, please.” your voice is nothing but a weak frightened whisper, “You’re… scaring me.” 
“Good, maybe fear can drill some good sense into that frail mind of yours.” he scoffs. “Cause I believe both of us know where this is headed. You’re not leaving me.” 
He doesn’t wait for an answer before continuing, eyes and voice pouring of determination and assurance. 
“You can never leave me, no matter how hard you try. I’ll always find you, you know that.” he warns, voice dipping low.
“And you should also be aware that your friends and family are meaningless to me. So, next time you think about pulling a stunt like this I highly suggest you think about their lives. Got it?” 
Deku
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There are moments when you feel as though luck has abandoned you since you started dating Izuku.
Today is one of them.
It’s partially your fault, had you realized earlier that Izuku came home in a poor pissy mood you wouldn’t have brought the conversation up. 
“So, that’s how it’s going to be, huh?” his tone is serious and firm, borderline resentful. “After everything I’ve done for you and yet you are breaking up with me.” 
The unnerving stare of the emerald eyes is enough to make you duck your eyes, and the way he’s towering over you, a powerful mass of muscle and scars, makes you hesitant to meet his eyes. 
“Izuku, please.” you mutter. “It’s just… It’s for the best.”
“No, it’s not. Why don’t you just say it? That you’re just gonna dump me like I’m a piece of trash that got stuck to your shoe? Like I mean shit to you?” he spits, voice steadily rising and his words are cruel and effective enough to hit you hard and square on where it hurts the most. 
“Izu—”
“Is this a joke to you? Huh? Am I a joke to you?” A yelp gets caught up in your throat when his fingers grab your arm. No amount of wriggling and twisting breaks his powerful grip over your wrist, his digits pressing hard against your bone. 
“N-No! Of course not! Izuku, I don’t- Please!” your lips quiver as you beg for something. Mercy. Freedom. Salvation. Anything. “Please, let’s just talk this through and—”
“Talk about what, exactly?” Izuku presses further, messy tufts of green hair falling onto his eyes. “On second thought, I do wanna talk about this. I wanna talk about how long these ideas have been pestering your mind. So tell me, sweetheart, how long have you been planning to ditch me to the side like garbage?”
“It’s not like that.” you try, but Izuku barely allows you to say a few words before he’s speaking over you.
“Better yet,” he glares at you, his nostrils flare up and hand dangerously narrows around your hand’s bone. “Who put this stupid idea into your head? Answer me, damnit!” 
You shrink at his tone, pathetic and unable to stand up for yourself, as Izuku keeps verbally charging at you.
Something in the back of your mind admonishes you for not sneaking away in the middle of night like a quiet mouse when Izuku would be deep in slumber. 
You desolately wish you had done that. 
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yep. thank you.
lots of people on this post acting like
"intersex people are cis and we're not talking about cis people right now"
"this is purely a hypothetical and doesn't happen"
"these conditions don't actually count as intersex"
it's infuriating to see people completely miss that this poster is very overtly about intersex kids actually. this poster is overtly saying HRT/blockers are good if a child is intersex and has incongruent secondary sex characteristics, but they might be trans, so they deserve to be able to choose! which if you think about for a minute is pretty fucked up because cis intersex people exist and even cis people, even if you see them as your enemy, deserve access to the medical care they want AND THAT INCLUDES not being forced into medical care they didn't ask for. dabwax has made many posts about how she was pressured by people into medical intervention she didn't want. status-quo-hater has too. they've both said that as youth, if they were offered specific treatments, they would have taken them due to the pressure, not because it would have been gender affirming. i myself wasn't even offered treatment i was put through it because other people decided for me that im just a cis person who gets to have no say in the conversation. a literal gender clinic i went to in my adulthood in the hopes that it would be intersex inclusive did WHAT THEY DECIDED was best for me because they decided i was cis and therefore didn't need gender related care. if you listen to intersex people, this poster is intersexist. and all of the intersexists in the notes going "well they're just cis people so they don't get it" you are being fucking intersexist. shut up.
intersex activists have been saying for decades that we want to medically be left alone regardless of gender identity. stop interfering. we don't want it. no more infant genital mutilation no more coercive care.
i am seeing people in the notes saying they want to print this out to put up for trans youth whilst completely missing that this is at its core about intersex youth.
if your pro-trans activism is intersexist it's actually garbage. you should try finding solidarity with intersex people instead of ignoring us or using us as an argument for your liberation. we are all fighting towards having bodily autonomy. we are all fighting the same fight. and i am sick to death of seeing intersexism being touted as trans activism. im ALSO TRANS. it doesn't feel very trans activist to me because i am an intersex trans person. i wouldn't even say this poster is pro-trans.
you are hurting intersex people when you force us out of conversations that are very overtly about us.
This is the first time i’ve seen a pro-trans poster in a long time and i hope whoever put it up is having a good day, it made me feel a little less alone.
Hamilton, New Zealand
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moonlitwitchdaisy · 1 day ago
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your husband, i mean ex-husband
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you knew perfectly well this wouldn’t end well. who would ever think a failed relationship could work again? bringing back the past only brought more anger and pain. your ex-husband was a prime example of this.
naoya zenin was definitely a fucking bastard.
controlling, angry at everything, and the embodiment of neglect—your ex-husband had thankfully been out of your life for five whole months.
so why the fuck was he between your legs right now, busy devouring your pussy?
“na-naoya fuck, please stop…” you barely managed to voice your protest through the overwhelming pleasure you were experiencing. you didn’t really want him to stop, but this needed to end before things got even messier.
naoya paused the frantic and sloppy movements of his tongue on your clit, lifting his head from your pussy with a look that screamed, are you serious right now?
“do you my cock want then?”
fuck. things were definitely going to get messier.
“no, no, just… stop, please.”
your ex-husband sat back between your legs, clearly annoyed, and let his gaze travel over your entire body, starting from your face. his expression was unreadable, but you knew him well enough to recognize the gears turning in his head. those weren’t the eyes of someone who planned to reward you—they were eyes ready to punish.
“naoya, don’t even—” you started, but before you could finish, he suddenly flipped you onto your side. before you could even react, he had your right leg over his shoulder, positioning himself between your thighs.
he definitely wasn’t going to fuck you romantically in a goddamn spooning position.
“you know,” he started, holding your thigh effortlessly in one hand as he stroked his cock with the other, “i was planning to spend the whole night worshiping your pussy until you lost count of how many times you came. then, i was going to slide inside you, fill up every inch of that tight little pussy, and pump you so full of my cum that you wouldn’t leave this bed without being pregnant.” he tilted his head, an infuriating smirk on his face. “but, as usual, you had to ruin my surprise with your stupid thoughts.”
you tried to push him away with your right foot, but he had you trapped. your other leg was pinned under his body, leaving you helpless. there was no getting out of this unless he wanted to let you go—and you both knew he didn’t.
“you bastard, i swear—AHH!” your scream tore through the room as his thick cock entered you, stretching you wide.
“fuck… i’ve missed my wife’s pussy so much,” he groaned, his grip on your thigh tightening as he felt your walls clench around him. you could feel his body trembling with pleasure against yours.
goddammit, you had missed this. you’d missed how his cock, thick and veiny, filled you up perfectly, molding to your walls as if it were made just for you. the only thing you and naoya had ever been good at together was sex. in that area, you’d never lost a single battle.
he was merciless, pounding into you with brutal precision, his cock slamming into your dripping core over and over again. he was relentless, driven by the desire to feel all of your heat and wetness wrapped around him.
“hah, got nothing to say? you, who never shuts up... can't seem to open that damn mouth of yours now, huh?”
“fuck you, na-naoya,” you spat, your face buried in the pillow. everything was too much—the sensations, the pace, the depth. even if you wanted to reply, you couldn’t.
“listen to this.” he went silent for a moment, letting the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin fill the air. “listen to the dirty, filthy sounds of your little slutty pussy begging for my cock. ngh—it’s clenching around me so tight, like it doesn’t want me to leave.”
it never wanted him to leave. there wasn’t a single day you didn’t want him. no one else could satisfy your pussy the way he could—whether it was his tongue, his fingers, or his cock.
“so-deep… you’re so deep,” you finally lifted your head, looking at him with tear-filled eyes from being pounded by his cock.
“of course i’m deep. it’s my wife’s pussy—”
“ex-wife,” you cut him off, your voice trembling. “your ex-wife…”
“FUCK NO!” his voice rose in anger as he slapped your ass three times in quick succession, forcing a scream from your lips. “you are my wife. i don’t give a fuck about legal bullshit. do you understand me?” another harsh slap landed on your ass. “DO YOU?”
“oh my god, yes—YES, I UNDERSTAND!” you shouted through the mix of pain and pleasure.
“good. now, repeat it.” he pressed a wet kiss to your ankle. “i am naoya zenin's wife. say it, my love,” his lips found your ankle again, his tongue teasing the skin there while his slick cock plunged into your tight, sticky walls.
“i’m… i’m your wife, naoya,” you admitted, your voice shaking but certain.
“i-i..” fuck, you really wanted to say it. you wanted to scream to the whole world that you were his wife, the only lady of the zenin clan. but nothing was the same anymore. at least not for you—though, judging by your husband, no, your ex-husband, everything was exactly as it used to be.
“yes, you?...” his kisses trailed higher up your leg, his possessive eyes locking onto yours. “look at me.”
his commanding tone made you obey instantly. “i’m your wife, naoya.”
he growled as you admitted you belonged to him. his lips pressed kisses along the skin of your leg before suddenly biting down on a spot. it was as if he wanted to brand you, to make sure everyone knew you were his, sucking and tugging at your skin with his teeth. “that’s fucking right. you’re mine.” he didn’t stop moving inside you, his cock still pounding and filling you completely. “you’re a fucking zenin. the woman at the head of the clan. MY wife. fuck—mine.”
his head fell back, and his thrusts slowed as he got closer to his release. but still, every slow thrust hit your g-spot with perfect precision. the blunt tip of his cock you loved so much, the one that drove you crazy, was stroking it so perfectly that you never wanted this moment to end.
“you’re going to take my cum like a good wife, aren’t you? you’re going to carry my children—fuck, my children…”
“please, fill me up, please.” you were begging now, desperate for him, for this. no matter how toxic he was, no matter how fucked up everything had become, you wanted to bear his children more than anything.
“i will, baby. ngh—shit, shit, shit…” his hand squeezed your thigh as he resumed pounding into you with full force. his cock pulsed inside you, and you felt the rush of his cum filling you up, flooding your womb until it spilled out.
“oh my god, naoya, i hate you—I fucking hate you,” after shouting your hatred at your ex-husband, a deep, masculine groan escaped him. he’d cum inside you countless times before, but you couldn’t ever remember him cumming this much.
as his cock softened slightly, you thought he’d let you go, but instead, he flipped you onto your stomach and pinned your arms behind your back with one hand. his free hand came down hard on your ass, making you yelp.
your other leg was still hooked over his shoulder, but his dripping cum was already sliding out of your pussy and trailing down toward your ass. naoya finally let your leg go, and just as you thought you’d be turning to face his sweat-slicked body, he flipped you onto your stomach instead. pinning your hands behind your back with his left hand, he delivered a sharp slap to your ass. “ass up. i’m not done yet. i need to fuck you again to make sure none of my cum goes to waste.”
without a hint of hesitation, you lifted your hips, offering yourself to him. with your face buried somewhere between the pillow and the sheets, he used his free hand to spread your ass cheeks wide. his cum, still inside you, began to drip out, making a soft, lewd drip-drip sound as it landed on the sheets below. “what a fucking waste, letting it drip onto the bed,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with mock disappointment. “guess i’ll have to punish you for that. but first…” he leaned in close, his face just inches from your ass, and ran his tongue from your soaked pussy all the way up to your tight little asshole. when he stopped there, his warm breath fanned over your sensitive skin, making you shiver. he pressed his face close to your dripping folds, running his tongue from your pussy all the way up to your tight little asshole, where he paused, letting his warm breath tease you. “i want to taste this. you lose your fucking mind whenever i eat this tight little hole, don’t you? if you get pregnant tonight, maybe next time, i’ll do more and fuck this tight, fucking sinful hole of yours too.”
“i-i promise, naoya.”
“what do you promise?” his breath tickled your sensitive skin before his tongue gave your hole a short, teasing lick.
“ugh—to carry your child. i promise to carry your child.”
“that’s the right answer, mrs. zenin.” he wasted no time and dove in, licking and devouring your favorite spot with relentless enthusiasm.
that night, you learned with absolute clarity that there was no escaping from this man. whether you gave him the clan’s new heir or not, whether you fled to the other side of the world to escape him, naoya zenin would never abandon the lady of the his clan.
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a little note: this might be one of the first things i've written. it was a bit different originally, but after rereading it, i didn’t like it, so i rewrote it. also, a huge thank you to @sugurus-thoughts for encouraging me to post this :)
all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.
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dorabellingham · 1 day ago
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Kissing in the rain
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warning: none
characters: jude x reader
summary: when you're arguing and you leave him talking to himself, but he follows you
may contain spelling and translation errors!
It was a gray, rainy afternoon in Madrid. The sound of rain beating against the windows of the house was constant, almost drowning out the tense voices inside. You and Jude were standing in the living room, arguing about something trivial —this time, it was about which route to take to get to a family appointment, but it could have been about anything else. In the last few days, it seemed like everything was a source of friction between you.
—I told you, the route I chose is faster! Why do you always have to complicate things?
You exclaimed, crossing your arms and looking at Jude in frustration.
Jude, on the other hand, seemed equally impatient.
—Complicate things? I’m just trying to help, but you never listen! Every time we have to decide something, it turns into this.
—Turn into what, Jude? I’m not asking for help. I just want us to get there without fighting!
You were clearly tired of that argument, but at the same time, you couldn't stop arguing.
The rain outside was getting stronger, the sky seemed heavier and heavier, reflecting the tension. The eldest Bellingham rubbed his face with his hands, taking a step back.
—You know what? You're always cutting me off, always making it seem like I'm the problem.
You huffed and turned your back, heading towards the door. You weren't going to stand there, arguing, when all you wanted was peace.
—Cutting you off, Jude? Stay on your route. I'll go alone.
You opened the door, and the cold air of the rain entered the house, messing up your hair and making your skin shiver. You knew it was stupid, that you were going out in the middle of the rain for a silly reason, but sometimes your emotions took over everything. Without looking back, you walked out the door, leaving the boy alone.
Outside, the rain was falling hard, soaking you in seconds. You walked fast, almost running on the wet sidewalk, raindrops running down your face, mixing with the tears you wouldn't admit you were shedding. You were angry, frustrated, but most of all, tired of how things always seemed to be out of control lately.
But after a few meters, you heard his heavy footsteps behind you.
—Y/n, wait!
He shouted, running towards you, completely ignoring the fact that you were both getting wet to the bone.
You stopped, but didn't turn around immediately. You stood there, in the middle of the street, feeling the cold rain fall on your body as you waited for Jude to reach you. The sound of the drops was the only sound that filled the silence between you for a moment.
He reached you, breathing heavily, his soaked hair making heavier drops of water run down his face.
—Babe... we need to stop this. —He said, his voice hoarse, as if he was tired of fighting so much. —This... we're always arguing over nothing.
You finally turned to face him, your eyes shining with anger and sadness.
—So why don't we stop? Why does it always have to be like this?
He was silent for a moment, running his hand through his wet hair. The rain continued to fall, harder, as they stared at each other.
—Because... because I care too much.
Jude finally answered, his voice low, barely audible over the sound of the storm.
You looked at him, surprised.
—What?
—I care too much, Y/n. That's why we fight. I want everything to work out, I want us to be okay... and when we start arguing, I just lose control.
He admitted, his frustration evident in his voice.
You were quiet for a moment, absorbing his words. Maybe you had underestimated how much your boyfriend cared, how much he wanted things to work out between them. You always saw him as the calm guy, the one who kept his cool while you exploded with emotion, but maybe he was just as lost in this relationship as you were.
You were about to answer, but before you could say anything, Jude took two big steps towards you and pulled you close. Without hesitation, he kissed you with an urgency you hadn't expected, as if he was trying to end all the fights, all the frustration, in a single gesture.
The rain continued to fall around you, and you felt his body against yours, warm, even in the middle of the storm. You let yourself be carried away by the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling Jude’s large hands holding you firmly.
The world seemed to stop in that moment. The fights, the friction, the arguments —everything disappeared the instant Jude’s lips met yours. And for a moment, you realized that what you were doing now was much more important than anything you had discussed before. That was what mattered, what you had with each other, the connection that, despite all the differences, always brought you back together.
When the kiss finally ended, you were both breathless, but he still held you close, your foreheads pressed together.
—I’m sorry, babe.
He whispered, his eyes fixed on yours.
You smiled slightly, your hands still holding his face.
—I’m sorry too. —You said, your voice soft. —I think we just need to learn not to let small things become a problem.
Jude nodded, letting out a soft laugh.
—And maybe we should wait to argue until it’s not raining?
You laughed too, shaking your head.
—Yeah, that might be a good idea, honey.
You stood there for a few more seconds, just looking at each other, as the rain continued to fall around you. You knew there would still be fights, there would still be times when you would disagree, but in the end, what you had together was greater than any argument.
—Shall we go home?
Jude asked, finally pulling away a little, but still holding your hand.
You nodded, and you began walking back, hand in hand, soaked from the rain, but with lighter hearts. This might have been the stupidest fight you had ever had, but in the end, it had served to remind you both that, no matter how much you argued, you were still in love.
Heyyy! I'm sorry for the delay in bringing this one shot, it's my first time having an iphone and all this is very strange to me but soon we'll be back to normal :)) Do you have any suggestions for new themes?
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ventismacchiato · 2 days ago
Note
omg I need scara and childe to do the we listen and we don’t judge trend they’d be sooo funny 😭
scara and childe: we listen and we don’t judge
childe: one time during a music show between sets the staff told me i didn’t have time to piss so i rmbr i sang my solo really fast so i could get off stage and that night everyone was praising me for trying something new with my music but i just really had to fucking piss
scara: i was hoping you’d piss your pants
childe: okay kinky
scara and childe: we listen and we don’t judge
scara: whenever there’s a glambot at an award show i run away, i can’t be caught lacking.
childe: mine never turn out good 😕
scara and childe: we listen and we don’t judge
scara: i hang up on cringe fancalls and blame the company wifi
childe: when fans ask if i recognize them i lie and say yes but one time the fan said this was her first call and i had to post an apology…
scara and childe: we listen and we don’t judge
scara: when me and yn were on vocal rest and couldn’t yell at each other i snuck into their dorm and put blue dye in their soap but fischl ended up using it and was blue for a week and i blamed you for it
childe: oh so that’s why she didn’t talk to me…
scara and childe: we listen and we don’t judge
childe: i have a secret editing account where i edit all of delusion
scara: …i do too
childe: omg you edit me?!
scara: yes but i only use clips i took of you so then when visions ask where i got them i gaslight them and lie and start fandom wars
childe: …okay i just make ship edits you’re kind of insane
scara and childe: we listen and we don’t judge
childe: i like to steal cool stuff off sets for music videos
scara: please throw away the stop sign in our living room
scara and childe: we listen and we don’t judge
scara: one time when we were being overworked we all pretended to sprain our ankles to take time off our debut year but childe got us caught
childe: cus i went out at night to buy vapes at the convenience store and paparazzi took photos of me without my cast…
scara: you just couldn’t go one fucking day without your stupid watermelon ice cream vape
childe: 😔
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defectivevillain · 1 day ago
Text
the games we play
pairing: Gi-hun/Young-il/Reader
the reader's race & gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.
summary: “And surely you’ve seen the way Young-il looks at you,” you press on, motivated by Gi-hun’s silence. “Like he wants to pick you apart, break you into pieces, and then put you back together again.” Gi-hun is quiet for several moments. “I… haven’t noticed that,” he eventually admits. He pauses for a moment, evidently thinking. “I’ve seen Young-il look at you like that.” Something unpleasant jumps in your chest. “Then we’re both in trouble,” you huff, rubbing a hand over your eyes.
Gi-hun and you attempt to navigate the 33rd Squid Game, under the watchful eye of the enigmatic Oh Young-il.
word count: 10.3k | ao3 version | fic playlist
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warnings: spoilers to Squid Game season 2; canon-typical blood, violence, and death.
author's notes: This is Gi-hun/Reader/In-ho (Young-il) centric. Leaning heavily on Gi-hun/Reader, with subtle In-ho moments. The reader is written to have incurred debt from their undergraduate studies in America.
This fic does not have a happy ending. Also, it’s canon non-compliant/divergent.
I made a playlist for this fic too. Feel free to listen, if that’s your vibe :3
Thank you to @connorhasabigtip for beta reading this & watching the first four eps with me! love you bitch. and jun-ho is in love with you. so I guess that makes us related fr now.
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You first meet Seong Gi-hun in a sandy arena, under the watchful eyes of a killer doll figurine as you play Red Light, Green Light. At the time, you only know him as Player 456—the strangely vocal man who insists that the game comes with the risk of imminent death. You’re not quite sure why you decide to believe him. Maybe it’s because you have no other choice; or maybe it’s just because there’s less risk. Either way, you choose to follow his advice. You end up near the front of the group of players scattered across the field, which means you are forced to remain frozen as you hear gunshot after gunshot. There are people screaming and attempting to escape, but you know it’s no use. They are all shot down, until the doll finally seems to have enough and turns its back on the field once more. 
You take the proffered opportunity to continue running down the field, until it begins to turn around again and you’re forced to freeze. 456 and you are the frontrunners, with 456 focused on helping everyone. He’s calm and collected under pressure—keeping his mouth hidden behind his elbow as he shouts out orders. 
Thanks to his help, the majority of the remaining players survive. And while most of them appear to scorn him for his relentless optimism, you can’t help but feel grateful that he warned everyone. You steal glances at him from across the dorm before gathering the courage to walk up to him and introduce yourself, dipping your head in a mock bow. He returns the gesture, introducing himself as Seong Gi-hun. You talk for a while, before finally relenting and asking him if he’s played these games before. The troubled expression that passes over his face is the only answer you need, but he confirms it verbally anyways. He won the game a few years ago. As for why he came back… he hopes to stop the games once and for all. 
“You’ll need some help then.” You remark, sounding far more confident than you feel at the present moment. “I can join you.” You offer. 
He looks askance. “It’ll be dangerous.” Gi-hun warns you. 
“Everything about these games is dangerous.” You point out. It’s true. If you’re going to die, you’d rather die fighting for something—instead of solely being a victim to these fucked up games. 
“True.” He acquiesces, before sliding over and giving you enough room to sit next to him. You take the proffered space and rest your forearms on your knees, clasping your hands and staring at the players across the dorm. 
“You may want to keep it a secret,” you say after a few moments, tapping your fingers restlessly. “That you’ve played these games before, I mean.” You clarify after seeing his confusion. 
“Why?” Gi-Hun frowns. You’re not surprised by his reaction—while you don’t know Gi-hun very well, it’s clear he has a good heart. He sees the best in people. And while that’s normally an admirable quality, it doesn’t quite help him here. 
“If you warn everyone about the second game now, and then it turns out you’re wrong…” You continue. You’ve been thinking about his show of resistance during the first game, and you suspect whoever is running the game will do whatever it takes to ensure he doesn’t do the same thing again. “You’ll be a pariah. No one will trust you. And that’s exactly what they want. They’re betting on the fact that you’ll tell everyone about the second game. They’ve probably changed it so you’ll lose credibility.” You finally seem to get through to Gi-hun with that remark, as he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. 
“That’s… a fair point.” He eventually agrees. It seems he hadn’t thought of it. He pinches the bridge of his nose. 
Feeling eyes on your back, you turn around to find a player staring at Gi-hun and you. Your skin burns under his intense gaze, and he shows no embarrassment at the prospect of being caught staring. Instead, he only blinks. You stare at him for a moment, before eventually convincing yourself to turn away. Your skin crawls for the rest of the day, even as you get into bed and try to get some sleep. 
The second game takes place early the next morning, after the majority of players vote to continue the game. You’re once again led through those winding pastel halls and stairs, only to find yourself in an arena reminiscent of a playground. You look over at Gi-hun, who looks a bit troubled by what he sees. Evidently, it’s a bit different from what he saw in the second round of his previous game. 
Once the surviving players are gathered in the space, an announcement confirms that the next game will be a six-legged race. Gi-hun shoots you a relieved look and you remember what he told you after your conversation the previous day. The second round last time was dalgona. It appears the game masters changed the game, just as you predicted. Gi-hun is still looking at you with gratitude and it makes you feel a bit uneasy, knowing the feeling is wasted on you. The announcer’s voice breaks through the static in your mind, directing players to gather in groups of five. 
“I’m with you.” You say after a moment, looking at Gi-hun. It’s meant to be a question, but it comes out more confident and assertive. Internally, you’re a bti more unsure. Sure, you spoke with Gi-hun a lot yesterday, but that doesn’t mean he sees you as an ally yet. 
Thankfully, Gi-hun doesn’t object. “Of course.” He nods. You feel a slight smile slip onto your face, relieved that you won’t have to look around for a group. With the addition of Player 388, your group now has three members. You only need two more for the game. 
“May I join your group?” You blink to find Player 001 standing in front of you. He was the one staring at you two last night. The man looks between Gi-hun and you. You don’t trust yourself to speak, instead letting Gi-hun and 388 decide. 
“Sure.” Gi-hun agrees. You’re secretly a bit suspicious, but you let it go. 
With the addition of a young girl, your group is complete with five members. Since the game is a six-legged pentathlon, there will be five games interspersed along the track. Your group decides on the following pairings: Player 222 and Ddakji; Gi-Hun and Jegi; 001 and spinning top; 388 and Gonggi; & you and flying stones. 
As you’re watching the first group stumble through the obstacles, you feel a sudden presence behind you. “A miss in Flying Stone will eat up a lot of time,” 001 says. And wow, this guy needs to learn about personal space. You swear his breath is hitting your neck as he hovers over your shoulder. You instinctively flinch and turn around, comprehending his remark.
“Shut up,” you then respond, your nerves high enough without this guy’s comments. “Stop with your mind games. We’re on the same team, in case you didn’t realize.” You snap before you can stop yourself. You immediately turn back around to watch the team playing; and in your eagerness to look away, you miss the slight quirk of the man’s lips. 
The first two groups die. The gunshots still ring in your ears, even after the guards remove their corpses and the game continues. There are growing puddles on the ground, marring the childish appearance of the arena. 
Desperate for a way to distract yourself, you turn to 001 again. “Who are you, anyway?” You soon ask, unable to hide your curiosity. He just blinks at you, that infuriatingly blank expression on his face. He almost seems like an android, with how little emotion he shows. “I didn’t see you here for the first round.” You frown. And sure, the first round had hundreds of people. But you think you’d remember a guy like him. He’s… Well. You hate to admit it, but he’s very conventionally attractive. And his stare is eerie. If you had seen him, you would’ve remembered.
Gi-hun overhears and freezes, looking at you before following your gaze to stare at 001. He seems curious. “And you knew my name, when I never told it to you.” Gi-hun continues. 
Your eyes widen. You’re about to press the guy for more information when the buzzer rings, summoning your group to the starting line. That was suspiciously good timing. But it doesn’t matter—you can worry about 001’s origins later. Right now, you have a game to win. 
Fortunately, your group makes it out alive. The group you share the arena with isn’t so lucky, and the sound of gunshots echoes in your ears long after you head back to the dorms. All of you are dejected as you see how many people died last round. You feel particularly worried for 222, who had revealed herself to be pregnant. Just how in the hell is she getting through this? She must be in immense pain. 
When you’re given your rations for the day, you give her your bread. 001 gives her his milk, and before long, each member of the group has sacrificed something to ensure her wellbeing. You can’t help but feel sickened at the thought of her presence here—she’s so young, and she’s carrying a baby while fighting for her life to survive. You don’t necessarily pity her, since she’s proven she’s very capable and athletic. Still… You resent the circumstances that brought players like her here. 
You think back to the game you just played. Everyone did very well and succeeded on the first try, except for 001—who took several tries to successfully wind and throw the spinning top. It’s ironic, considering he was trying to warn you all earlier and put more pressure on you. All of that talk… just for him to buckle under the pressure. It almost makes you want to laugh. If the rest of you hadn’t done so well, he could’ve gotten you killed. 
A sharp bolt of anger rushes through you. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten our conversation,” you say to the guy, the words slipping from your lips before you can stop them. 001 blinks at you innocently. The gesture just irritates you even more. “Who are you? How much debt do you have? What’s your job?”
“I think you can stop interrogating him,” 388 interjects, clearly sensing the tension settling across the group. You grit your teeth. 
“No; he’s suspicious,” you argue persistently, your spine tingling uneasily as you’re met with 001’s blank stare. “He beat the shit out of those two guys and pretended like it was nothing.” Indeed, when two contestants had been messing with a third guy, 001 had promptly walked up to them and overpowered them with ease. “He knew Gi-hun’s name when he never told him, and he was playing mind games all through the last round.” You finish scrutinizing him. The guy stares right back, seemingly unaffected by your skepticism.
“Hey, enough of that,” 388 remarks placatingly. You bite your tongue and allow him to keep speaking, if only because you’re so frustrated you can hardly think. Your fists are clenched at your sides. 001 is still staring, and he’s likely getting enjoyment from your irritation. “We should be celebrating our victory! And if you’ll excuse me…” He gets to his feet and stares at the group. “I don’t know your names yet. Mine’s Kang Dae-ho. It means ‘big tiger’.”
All of you proceed to introduce yourselves, before it gets to 001. Supposedly, his name is Oh Young-Il. “It’ll be easy to remember, because it corresponds to my number.” He remarks. This guy is only getting more and more suspicious with each thing he says. There’s no way in hell that’s his real name. And he seems to recognize you don’t believe him, because he’s staring at you again. 
The group is a bit more withdrawn today, after the events of the previous game. As your adrenaline dies down, you realize you’re quite tired. The others seem to feel the same; yet the day passes with infinite lethargy. It feels like a whole lifetime until the lights-out announcement. Upon hearing the announcement, Gi-hun guides the group through building a kind of fort and assigning members for guard duty. Supposedly, people can get violent at night—and kill one another just for the promise of more prize money. You’re not exactly surprised by that, so you go along with his orders. Gi-hun offers to take the first shift—leaving the rest of you to sleep peacefully (or, at least, as peacefully as a person can sleep in a place like this).
When you wake for the next shift a few hours later, you find Gi-hun still awake—staring off into the distance with a frown on his face. You sidle up next to him and the two of you sit in silence for a while. It’s not necessarily an uncomfortable silence. The two of you are both deep in thought, as you evidently reflect on the horrors you’ve witnessed. 
“...I don’t trust Young-il.” You admit quietly. There’s a persistent but quiet hum in the air, the only companion to the silence. 
“Why not?” Gi-hun asks. He doesn’t look suspicious, but he doesn’t exactly look believing either. He always believes the best in people, though. And his desire to stop the games has kept him too busy to notice the way 001 is acting. 
“He’s… slippery,” you settle for saying after a few moments. “He messes with people just to see their reactions. Plus, did you see him in the first game? Because I swear I didn’t see him, and then suddenly, when it was time to vote, he just… appeared.” 
“I mean, isn’t that strange?” You continue, unable to stop talking now that you’ve finally spoken your mind. “Especially when his vote was the one that ushered in the second game. It’s just… I don’t know, it’s really fishy.”
Gi-hun hasn’t spoken a word, instead looking ahead in sincere contemplation. “And surely you’ve seen the way he looks at you,” you press on, motivated by Gi-hun’s silence. “Like he wants to pick you apart, break you into pieces, and then put you back together again.”
Gi-hun is quiet for several moments. “I… haven’t noticed that,” he eventually admits, fully turning to look at you. He pauses for a moment, evidently thinking. His eyes are searching your face for something—but it’s a different kind of scrutiny than Young-il’s covert malice. “But I’ve seen him look at you like that.” Gi-hun says quietly. 
Something unpleasant jumps in your chest. “Then we’re both in trouble,” you huff, rubbing a hand over your eyes. 
(And little do you both know, Young-il has been lying awake the entire time, digesting every word of your conversation.)
“You should rest, Gi-hun,” you suggest. “I’ll take over from here.” It takes some argument, but you manage to persuade Gi-hun to sleep. You spend the rest of your guard shift staring ahead and fighting off sleep. Your eyes are dry and you’re beginning to get a headache, but you’re happy to keep watch if it ensures the safety of your group members. 
You must zone out for quite a while, because there’s soon a hand on your shoulder. You flinch and blink dazedly, only to find Young-il staring at you imploringly. “It’s my turn to keep watch. You should rest.” He suggests. His hand hasn’t moved from your shoulder. Gi-hun’s words echo in your ears: I’ve seen him look at you like that. Young-il’s dark eyes are glittering. You’re immediately assaulted with one unshakeable conviction: he wants to rip you apart and eat you alive. 
You’re not sure how long you remain there, pliant under the man’s grasp, before you shake yourself out of it. All you know is the faux concern knitting his brows together, and the lingering hand on your shoulder that only slips away after you’re out of reach.
…You don’t sleep very well. 
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The third game, Mingle, is quickly proving to be the worst one so far. It should be simple: the carousel spins, before stopping and announcing a number. Players standing on it must assemble a group of that number and gather in one of the nearby rooms before the time expires. Elementary. 
Except… it’s utter mayhem when the numbers are announced. The lights go out, the countdown is ever present in a loud chirping tone, and it’s loud. 255 people is far too many for the enclosed space you find yourself in. And while your impromptu group develops a hesitant strategy, there’s no telling what number will come next. Hell, at this point, they could announce “1” and eliminate three-quarters of the players. You hope it doesn’t come to that. 
As the rounds continue, you grow more and more restless. There’s a horrible pit in your stomach as you return to the spinning stage each time, stepping over corpses and puddles of blood. You almost feel as if you’re stuck in some strange sort of limbo, cursed to continue this stupid game over and over again. To make matters worse, there are slits in each of the doors that conceal the rooms—giving you a front row seat to the brutality of the guards. 
Finally, after what feels like far too long, you’re at the last round. You swallow hard, fighting off the dizziness and vertigo that the spinning stage is inciting in you. Jun-hee, Dae-ho, Young-il, and Gi-hun have all survived thus far, thankfully. You all had to split up a few times when the numbers were smaller, but you survived nonetheless.  
“What do you think the last number will be?” Gi-hun asks the group. 
You contemplate the question. Before you can respond, Young-il speaks. “Two.” he answers with frightening certainty. You pay him a wary glance, only to find that there is no trace of hesitation in his expression. Everything he does only makes you more unnerved. He must be doing it on purpose, at this point. 
You look at Gi-hun wordlessly. But just as you’re about to ask him to be your partner, the lights are going out and the number is appearing on the screen above. Indeed, as Young-il predicted, the last round requires a pair to enter a room.  
You barely get a moment to think before Young-il latches his hand onto your wrist, yanking you after him and leaving you no choice but to follow. You spare a glance behind you at Gi-hun, relieved to see he’s running to a room with Dae-ho. Your attention is quickly recaptured by the people you’re running near, and you have to push past them to get into the nearest room. With Young-il’s help, you manage to get inside and slam the door behind you. 
You’re about to breathe a sigh of relief when you lock eyes with another guy. It’s a third player, who was inexplicably standing in the room. Everything falls to an eerie silence as you come to terms with the situation. The timer is quickly counting down. He needs to leave for Young-il and you to fit the requirements. If you have too many people, you’ll fail and die. But the clock is already counting down, and the door locked behind you, and there’s just no time, not enough time- 
You feel yourself slide down the wall and onto the ground, shakily covering your head in your hands as if that will do anything to stop the oncoming onslaught of bullets from the guards. You can only hear the sound of your own ragged breathing reverberating through your ears, as you try and fail to keep it together. 
The sound of shuffling breaks you from your thoughts; you look up to find Young-il with his arms wrapped around the guy’s neck as he chokes the life out of him. The guy’s face is turning red from the strength of his grip, as he scrambles to get some air. His eyes meet yours and you just… stare. 
Three… Two… One.
The other player slumps on the ground. 
A few seconds pass. There’s nothing but silence. It seems the guy died just before the countdown ended—bringing the number of players back down to two and ensuring your victory in the game. 
Your eyes are locked on the other player’s corpse. Then, as if against their own volition, your eyes find Young-il’s, and every one of your prior suspicions is confirmed. 
…You’re frozen. 
He gets to his feet, pushing the corpse away as if it’s nothing more than an obstacle. The casual nature of the gesture makes you feel sick. Then Young-il politely offers you a hand, as if you had merely stumbled on the ground. As if he hadn’t just killed someone right in front of you. 
You’re frozen. You think there’s blood spattered across your face from one of the previous rounds. You can’t speak, can hardly breathe.
Unperturbed, Young-il crouches down before you. He takes your forearms and deftly tugs you up to your feet. 
You’re 
still
frozen. 
He’s guiding you out of the room now, his grip on your shoulder tight and loose all at once. The door slides open with a menacing sound. The other players are leaving their rooms. You want to search the crowd, but the contestants’ faces are all blurring together. There’s a helpless sound trapped in your throat. 
“Oh, thank God, you guys-” A familiar voice says. Gi-hun is running towards you. You want to be touched by the sheer relief in his voice, but you’re too busy trying not to pass out, or punch something, or just sob. You wrap your arms around yourself and try not to think about the blood flooding the floor, the ringing in your ears, the maleficence of the man at your side. Gi-hun claps a hand on your shoulder, his expression morphing into a concern you don’t deserve. “What happened?”
You can hardly breathe. Gi-hun’s looking at you expectantly and it takes all your effort not to just break down right there. You look at the ground, see the bloodstains, look back up. The doors on the far side of the space are opening, marking the end of the round. There’s a swarm of teal as players make their way back to the dorms. 
You think you’d stand there forever, if not for Gi-hun’s guidance. He pulls you after him gently. You follow. You feel Young-il’s gaze burning into the back of your head. Your tongue is locked to the roof of your mouth. You think you’re shaking, but it’s hard to think straight over the roaring sound in your ears.
Oh Young-il. 001. 
The inexplicable combat skills. The ease with which he killed the other player. That eerie look on his face, as if he’s viewing the game through the eyes of an observer. The gleam in his eyes as he stares at Gi-hun, you, and tests your resolve. This game, these players… they’re all an experiment to him. And he is the mad scientist engineering the entire thing. 
You’re fucked.  
You don’t remember much of what happens after that. The survivors make their way through the winding pastel corridor once more. You nearly trip on the steps several times, just barely catching yourself each time. Your ears are ringing. Even Jun-hee seems worried for you, and she’s carrying a baby.  
To make things worse, you keep hearing people calling your name. At first, you think you’re just imagining it. But you hear it again and again; and when you turn around, you hear the crazy shaman lady beckoning you closer. She’s slipping through the line and walking towards you now, crooning about fate and destiny and your imminent death. You don’t know what to say, can’t seem to summon that fire that has kept you safe, skeptical, this entire time. Before you can respond, Gi-hun’s leading you away from her with an arm around your shoulders. You can just vaguely hear Young-il speaking with Dae-ho and Jun-hee behind you, likely providing a sugar-coated lie for your state right now. You want to vomit. 
You blink and you’re on one of the bunks. Gi-hun’s saying something, looking at you worriedly, but his voice sounds garbled and warped like he’s underwater. You blink, blink, blink. Your hands are trembling still. You can’t rid yourself of the memory: of that player, in his dying moments, looking to you for help. You could’ve done something, should’ve done something. 
But what could you have done? If you had stopped Young-il, all three of you would’ve died anyway for having an incorrect number of people. Right? Young-il only did what was necessary to ensure your survival. Should you be grateful to him? 
No. You don’t want to feel thankful for a person who snuffed out the life of another before your very eyes. You don’t want to feel any positive emotion in this place. It’s all a lie. Everything is just… a feeble exercise to fight off despair. But it always comes back. Always. 
You hide your head in your knees, trying to gather the shattered pieces of your composure. You want to hate yourself for this—for the way you just shut down—but, at the same time, it only seems rational. Young-il is one of the game masters. You’re not sure just what his role is, but it must be something important—for him to be able to slip into the players’ ranks with ease. And you just saw him kill a contestant before your very eyes. What’s stopping him from doing the same thing to you, or Gi-hun, or Jun-hee, or Dae-ho? He could’ve easily strangled you in that tiny room. What prevented him from doing so? What guided his arm to wrap around the other player’s neck, instead of your own?
Moreover, if Young-il really is a part of executing these games… Who’s to say he doesn’t have advanced knowledge of the rounds to come? That only increases the despair you feel. What’s the point of fighting, if the game is rigged? If Young-il has adjusted the odds to his favor? Your head aches as you attempt to rationalize it all. Nothing about it makes sense.
…But you can’t let 001 win. You can’t let him break your resolve. That’s what Young-il’s here to do: he wants to stop Gi-hun’s insurgence—and, by extension, yours.
You run through your thoughts for a while, attempting to string together the tangled mess of information you’ve learned and witnessed. “Gi-hun.” You eventually say. Your voice is raspy, somehow. You haven’t spoken in a few hours now. Everyone in the group looks over at you. Your voice sounds like a stranger’s. “I need to speak with you. Alone.” You get to your feet and make your way to the ground, before shoving your hands in your pockets as you wait for him. Gi-hun stands up. 
Gi-hun is at your side as you walk, looking at you. “Let’s go to the bathroom.” You suggest as you walk away. He nods at your suggestion and the two of you head into the giant restroom. It’s not the ideal place for a conversation, but here, none of the other players will eavesdrop. There are cameras, but you doubt they have audio. 
You stand in the center of the empty bathroom for a long moment. Gi-hun seems to take the initiative, leading you into one of the stalls. The space seems far too small, with the two of you practically pressed together as you evade the cameras. The edges of your dirtied white shoes nearly touch. 
If Gi-hun is uncomfortable with the proximity, he doesn’t show it. After all, you both have far bigger problems. “What happened?” He asks you carefully. There are muted pink stains on his shirt—blood from the past games. You’re sure your clothing looks much the same. 
“I-” You choke out. This is much harder than you expected. Your sentences are choppy and fragmented as you continue speaking. “You remember our conversation last night?” It almost hurts to speak. 
“Yes.” He confirms, likely recalling your suspicions about Young-il. At this point, you almost wish you were wrong—that 001 was merely another player, just like the rest of you. But you know that contradicts the facts. 
“Young-il’s working for them.” You manage to say. 
Gi-hun is silent as he processes what you’ve just said. 
“He killed a man in front of me,” you say, your voice shaking. “When we were in the- the room. There were three of us. And I thought I was going to die-” You’re fighting for air again, your words interrupted with involuntary shudders. 
You look down at your feet to hide the tears you’re fighting off. But Gi-hun only leans forward and pulls you into an embrace. You can’t help but clutch at him like a lifeline. 
“He put the guy in a chokehold and killed him.” You manage to say, once you’ve calmed down a little.  “Gi-hun, the look on his face-” You choke off, shaking your head. His hold on you just tightens, as if reassuring you of his presence. You feel so weak for allowing yourself this moment, so vulnerable and desperate as you fall apart in the arms of the man who has lost so much more than you can possibly fathom. 
“Any attempt we make at stopping the games, he’ll be there listening.” You state, trying to take a breath and gather your thoughts once more. You could easily spend the rest of the night falling apart, but you know it won’t get you anywhere.  
Gi-hun swallows, bringing a hand across his chin as he evidently attempts to puzzle out what your next move should be. “That’s a problem.” He eventually says. You nod. 
“I think Young-il joined to mess with you.” You confess. “And if that’s the case, he must be more than a mere guard. The guards don’t have that kind of power. He’d have to be pretty high up in the hierarchy.”
“No wonder you were despondent earlier.” Gi-hun sighs. He laughs, a gesture completely devoid of any positive emotion. He rubs a hand over his face. “I had a plan—take the guards’ guns from them, get to the control room and demand answers.”
You just shake your head. You both know an exercise like that would be futile, and result in countless unintentional casualties. 
“It’s probably him.” Gi-hun continues. “He’s been right in front of us the whole time.” Us. Not me, but us. You feel momentarily touched by the remark, before you see the distressed look on his face. You can’t imagine what Gi-hun’s thinking right now, as he attempts to find a way to end this game system. System, because these games are far more than isolated events. A group—hell, an organization—with this kind of resources wouldn’t just give up after one game. It’s a constant cycle of despair and greed. 
Is there even a way to break the cycle? Gi-hun is only a single player. Dismantling an entire system—and, moreover, the predatory tactics it uses to ensnare people—is an impossible task. And you both know it. These games rely on the corruption in the outside world… and that can’t be wished away by an uprising here. People will always be greedy. People will always fight for their lives. And people will always resent being controlled. You shake your head. 
There’s a harsh banging on the door of the restroom; the two of you flinch, hearing a guard summoning you back to the dorms. You exchange worried looks before complying with his orders, stepping out of the bathroom and heading back to the group. 
“What took you guys so long?” Another player asks when you get back. He’s been sitting on the outskirts of your impromptu group since you got back from the game. “Don’t tell me you hooked up in there; that’s where we all go to piss.”
You stare at him in disbelief. Gi-hun must be wearing a similar expression, because he’s also silent. 
“What?” He asks, looking to the others for support. “Come on, it’s not that crazy of an assumption to make.”
Jun-hee looks like she’s fighting off the urge to smile in amusement; Dae-ho is laughing; and Young-il is silent as always. You could convince yourself there’s an extra tension to the set of his shoulders, but you won’t. 
Dae-ho continues attempting to keep the group’s morale up, but you can’t seem to move past your conversation with Gi-hun—and neither can he. When the countdown to lights out begins, the two of you are volunteering for guard duty. 
You want nothing more than to go to sleep, but your mind won’t let you. You’re stuck sitting in silence, fighting off stinging eyelids and persistent fatigue. 
Eventually, you lose the battle to exhaustion; and you wake some time later to feel a slightly stiff neck and hear an amused exhale of breath. Your awareness comes back slowly, as you exit your dreams and return to the nightmare of your waking life. The dorms slowly sharpen before your eyes and you blink blearily, wondering why your side feels so warm. It doesn’t take you long to connect the dots on that particular puzzle—as you look over to find yourself nearly nestled into Gi-hun’s side, your head resting on his shoulder. 
“Sorry,” you say quickly, straightening up and sliding away a little. It takes a concerted effort to ignore the heat racing across your skin. 
Gi-hun doesn’t look particularly bothered, instead blinking. “You needed the rest.” He says, considerate as always.
“And you didn’t?” You ask with a raised brow. 
Gi-hun’s about to respond when you both hear rustling. Dae-ho’s sudden presence behind you makes your heart jump. 
“You should rest.” Dae-ho suggests, crouching behind you both. “Both of you. It’s my turn anyways.”
Neither of you can come up with a good argument, so you go back to your respective beds and fall asleep. 
The next night isn’t a very restful night either. The fourth game takes the lives of far too many players. Dae-ho, Jun-hee, and countless other contestants died. The majority of the beds in the dorms are empty now. Many players appear dejected and overwhelmed with the situation. Yet, the majority still consistently votes to continue the game. You are well and truly trapped here.
You reconvene with Gi-hun after the game and quickly decide that you should attempt getting some more information from Young-il. Gi-hun is quick to volunteer you for the task, citing his somewhat mediocre lying abilities. This is how you find yourself seated next to Young-il in the near darkness that night, fighting off your nerves as you try to convince yourself to speak. 
“What do you want?” You ask when you can finally suppress your nerves. Your fingers twitch and you clasp them in your lap. Young-il is silent for a moment, before raising a brow. Maybe he didn’t hear you. “What do you want? What are you doing this for?”
He’s still quiet. You choke on a sharp, broken laugh. Even direct confrontation isn’t enough to get him to admit his role in the games. 
“How did you fall into debt?” Young-il asks you instead.
You decide to humor the question, if only so that he’ll be more talkative later on. Maybe he’ll be more motivated to tell the truth if you’re self-disclosing too. “I studied in America,” you reply. “Took a lot of loans, but it wasn’t enough. Obviously.” You huff, looking around. To think you spent all that money to get a degree… only to end up here.  
“Hm.” He doesn’t seem to have much to say regarding that. Young-il doesn’t look particularly surprised at your response either. 
“How did you actually get here?” You ask after a few seconds. “Are you even in debt?” Young-il does give off a bit of a businessman vibe—someone who’s more responsible with his money. It’s a bit hard to imagine him being in the same kind of crippling debt that keeps many of the players participating in the game. 
“I was.” He answers eventually, his arms resting on his knees. 
“You were.” You repeat, a bit surprised that he entertained the question. You recall what he told the group regarding his wife and her liver cancer, back when you first met. “Because of your wife’s treatment, I assume. Did she…?” You trail off quietly.
“Dead.” He answers, before you can stammer and stumble through an appropriate way to ask. 
“I see.” You remark. “But you’re still here. You won a game in the past, and then joined the game masters?” No response. You continue anyways. “Why? Did you have nothing else left?” You’re sure he can feel you staring at him expectantly, but he doesn’t crack under the pressure. 
“You’re persistent.” He notes after several moments. 
“And you’re very tight-lipped.” You respond immediately. Your heart is racing in your chest. This is a bit dangerous. There’s no telling what could make Young-il snap and grow angry. But, you suppose, anger would at least be a reaction. For the entirety of the games so far, he’s been infuriatingly emotionless. “That’s surprising, that you were a participant in the games once. Going through that is enough for anyone to leave and never return.”
“But you returned,” you speculate. “And to the wrong side, no less.” You’re just saying anything at this point—attempting to provoke some sort of reaction, regardless of what it is. So far, nothing really seems to be working. Maybe you need to go a bit below the belt. “I can’t imagine your wife thinks highly of you. Watching from whatever afterlife she’s in.” And that’s easily the rudest thing you’ve ever said to him, but, oh well. You could die tomorrow in the games, or here at his hand. Does it really make a difference? 
Young-il’s eyes immediately flash and you know you’ve trapped him. “Are you attempting to make me feel guilty?” Young-il asks, his voice devoid of emotion. But you know the brief flicker of anger in his eyes wasn’t a trick of the light. And while his anger is likely volatile, at least you're getting something. He’ll be more likely to talk if he’s feeling emotional. 
“Is it working?” You blink, still looking at him. He’s silent. “...Guess not.” You mutter resignedly. You swear you hear an amused exhale of breath from him, as if he’s holding back a laugh.  
“How do you get all this money, then?” You ask, genuinely curious. “This kind of operation can’t be easy to maintain.” After all, there are more than just the players that they have to worry about: there are the guards, the game masters, and whoever is watching these games. Because you know someone is watching. You can’t quite prove it, but you know regardless. 
“You are very perceptive.” Young-il says in lieu of an answer, a note of something complex in his voice. 
“Don’t patronize me.” You scoff, annoyed by the empty flattery. 
“I’m not patronizing you.” He continues, turning to look at you for one of the first times since you started speaking. “You have been a thorn in my side this entire time.”
“Oh,” you remark, surprised. You certainly weren’t expecting him to admit that you’ve been annoying him. “Thanks, I guess.”
“You really are quite strange,” he huffs.  
“And you aren’t?” You ask, taking the bait he’s dangling in front of you. “You could’ve been safe up there, or wherever the control room is. But instead you’ve joined the players once more. For… no reason. Or for entertainment, I suspect.”
Silence. 
“Do you know what games are next, then?” There’s no answer from him. You’re getting more irritated. “You realize I’m not going to stop asking questions.” You pester, if only to get him to say something. 
“That does seem to be part of your charm.” He says. It’s weirdly difficult for you to tell if his tone is sincere or sardonic. Perhaps a bit of both? No, surely not. He must be joking.  
You blink. “Okay… has there ever been more than one winner of the game?” You ask. You’re not sure why that question comes to mind. And you think you already know the answer. 
“No.” Young-il replies, confirming your suspicions. 
“How are you going to survive then?” You question, looking at him curiously. “Gi-hun’s going to win.” Will he sneak away before the last game? Or perhaps he’ll be given an advantage for it? 
“How are you going to survive?” He reasons, breaking you out of your thoughts.  
You shrug. “Not sure I will.” You admit. You’re not necessarily okay with that, but you pretend that you are. “But surely you can just sneak off or something. Fake your death in a game and disappear.” You raise a brow at him. 
“You have accepted your fate already.” He analyzes, ignoring your attempts at getting more information. He’s good. 
“The odds are against me,” you confess. “And I’d rather Gi-hun win.” Gi-hun has a lot more to live for. He would be the optimal person to carry out the end of the games, not you. 
“Why?” There’s genuine emotion on Young-il’s face, for what must be the first time. But it’s not surprise or suspicion—it’s confusion. Pure, complete confusion. He doesn’t understand what you just said or why you said it. 
“Because I care about him?” You respond, the statement coming out as a question despite it being the truth. Something passes over Young-il’s face, but it’s so quick you can’t even begin to decipher what emotion it is. “He’s the only good person in this place.” You say, your gaze wandering over the beds across the room. The remaining players are mostly asleep, awaiting the fifth game tomorrow. 
“Rest.” Young-il says, effectively terminating your conversation. “It’s my turn to keep watch.”
You don’t want to go to sleep. But Gi-hun and you agreed that you both need rest if you want to perform well in the games. And Young-il has had many opportunities to kill you already. He hasn’t done it yet. For some reason, you think he wants you both alive. And that is truly a frightening thought.  
As you head to your bed, you lock eyes with Gi-hun. The two of you have a lot to talk about, it seems. 
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“Well, I tried my best.” You sigh, looking over at Gi-hun in the dim lighting of the restroom that morning. The two of you had decided to try to get more information out of Young-il—hence, your conversation with him the other night. You’re not sure if it was very helpful, but at least you can say you tried. 
“You did very well,” Gi-hun reassures you easily. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” You respond easily. The two of you are standing close together in the same stall, just like last time. “I want to end the games too… Did you get any ideas from that conversation?” 
“A few,” Gi-hun says with a frown. He seems distracted now, and almost apprehensive. You squint at him. “Is it true?” 
“Is what true?” You ask, a bit confused. 
“You said you care about me,” he recalls. 
Oh. Shit. You had forgotten he was listening to the conversation, at that point. “Of course I do,” you respond after a few seconds, recognizing Gi-hun isn’t the type of person to throw your feelings back in your face. You do care about him, yes. “You didn’t know?” You ask.
Gi-hun stares at you for a long, long moment. He’s scrutinizing you, searching your face for something. Whatever it is, he must find it, because he eventually settles. Then he’s continuing on as if he hadn’t said anything in the first place. “There’s nothing we can do about the game tomorrow… But I’m thinking the final game will be our chance.” 
“Okay.” You say after a moment, filing that previous reaction to the back of your mind. “What was the final game, when you played?” 
“Squid Game.” He responds. The expression on Gi-hun’s face is a heartbreaking mix of resignation, grief, and frustration. His fists clench at his sides as he recounts the rules. By the end, he’s practically shaking—and you realize he’s digging his nails into the palms of his hands. Concerned, you reach out and pry his fists apart, before slipping your fingers through his and clasping his hand. He looks surprised by the gesture, before he settles and nods. 
The two of you try to sleep that night as best as you can, given the circumstances. You’re worried about the final game—and the way Gi-hun ended your conversation, as if there was something he wasn’t telling you. You know he’d never hide something from you that you needed to know. You’re just… worried. Worried he’ll do something stupidly noble or self-sacrificing when it gets down to it. Of course, there’s no point in agonizing over the final game just yet. You have to make it through the fifth game, after all. 
You’re awoken along with the 30 remaining players early the next morning to begin the next game. And it is a brutal one. It is nothing like the challenge Gi-hun recalled from his own experience, where contestants jumped on glass panels, at a height that promised death for anyone who fell. It appears to involve a lot more dexterity than the last few. And, even more troubling, players have the opportunity to impede each other’s progress. 
Players are placed into groups of three and given a few minutes to complete their tasks. Gi-hun is in the first group, by some stroke of bad luck. Thankfully, he survives—but the same can’t be said for his other two group members, who are quickly shot in the head and dragged off into the darkness. You’ve been selected for the final group, which means you’re forced to watch as group after group dies in their failure to complete the challenge. This game seems designed to only let a few people survive. 
By the time it’s your turn, Gi-hun and Young-il are the only two players who managed to finish the game successfully. That’s not exactly a good omen for your survival, but you made sure to watch each player’s attempt and learn from their mistakes. You think you have a good idea of how to accomplish this task. You can only hope the pressure doesn’t get to you. 
The countdown begins and you get to work. Your hands are shaking as you scramble to finish what feels like a far too complex task for the few minutes you’re given. It’s down to the wire as your shaking hands rearrange pieces and build upon them, to the point where the timer is at ten seconds. 
Against all odds, you complete the game. The two players at your side are pleading and begging the guards to show mercy, but they are swiftly eliminated—all while you’re standing near them, close enough to hear the gunshots ring in your ears painfully. 
You can just barely recognize the guard’s arms rising to make a circle over their head, indicating that you passed the game. Sweat is beading down your neck; your hands are shaking so badly that you look as if you have extra fingers; and your chest almost hurts, as if your ribs are attempting to squeeze your internal organs and crush them. There are colors passing before your eyes at lightning speed. Shadows morph and blur at the edges of your vision. You feel unsteady on your feet. The guard standing in front of you is ordering you to exit the arena. You take a slow breath. It’s okay. You’re okay. You’ll be fine. 
You take a step. It’s more of a laborious effort than it should be. Why does it feel like you’re trapped in quicksand? Another step. You lurch forwards, catching yourself and straightening up.  The exit looks so far away. You’ve been walking for minutes now, but you haven’t even made it halfway across the arena. 
There are puddles of blood everywhere. The white sneakers they gave you are practically pink now. Your skin feels like it’s on fire, but your teeth are chattering as if you’re freezing. Everything seems to catch up to you. Days of improper nutrition and lackluster sleep; of constant vigilance and ceaseless stress; of grief and regret; of physical strain and exertion. 
It’s strange. One moment, you’re walking along just fine (albeit a bit slowly); the next, your entire world is tilting as you crumple and fall to the ground like a broken marionette. There’s a pink blur of a guard before you, and you can only hope they’ll give you a swift end to this endless series of games.
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You wake up to a stiffness in your joints and a dryness in your eyes. You blink several times, your vision slowly sharpening to reveal the dorms. You’re situated on your bed, and if not for the memory of the last game, you’d think you were just waking up from a nap. You bring a hand to your temple and groan, slowly pushing yourself up. 
Then you notice a presence at your side. Gi-hun sits on the bed across from you, looking at you worriedly. “Gi-hun?” You ask, blinking past dry eyes.
Gi-hun settles, redirecting his attention and seemingly realizing you’re awake. He immediately lingers at your bedside, staring down at you with a torn expression. “I thought you were dead.” He says immediately, so quietly that you nearly hear the remark. 
“Young-il and I were waiting for you.” Gi-hun continues, his gaze exploring your face as if drinking in the sight. “But you didn’t appear… until the guards came back. And one of them was holding you in their arms.”
“I thought-” Gi-hun chokes off. “They wouldn’t tell me anything-” He says, clearly frustrated by the lack of information. He shakes his head. You reach out to grasp his hand, only to realize he’s already holding yours. His grip is delicate, as if afraid he’ll hurt you. You squeeze his hand lightly, hoping the gesture is reassuring. “And there was so much blood.” His voice cracks.
You look down to find your clothes absolutely splattered in blood (hell, nearly drenched). “It’s not mine,” you say aloud, thinking back to the game. Your opponents had gotten eliminated, and the two of you were standing quite close at the end. The guard hadn’t even waited for you to get out of the way before blowing their brains out. Their blood went all over you. “I passed out. I think- Everything must’ve caught up to me.” You press a hand to your temple and wince at the headache you find. 
“I’m glad you’re okay.” Gi-hun admits. He strengthens his grip on your hand and his other hand falls to your bended knee. 
“I’m glad you are too.” You return the sentiment. Gi-hun stares for a long moment, before shaking his head and pulling you into a hug. He grasps you tightly. 
“And Young-il?” You ask later, some time after the two of you have broken apart. You’re not necessarily worried for him—more worried about him. There’s no telling what he has planned. 
(Recognizing your exhausted state, Gi-hun decides not to tell you about Young-il. He doesn’t tell you about the look on the man’s face, nor about the mechanical way with which the man entered the empty arena moments later. He doesn’t detail the ringing gunshots that echoed throughout the nearby space, or the brief glimpse he caught of Young-il as he walked away… There was blood splattered across the man’s face and a vindictive gleam in his eyes. Meanwhile, Gi-hun returned to the dorms with the rest of the guards, nearly begging them to tell him something, anything-)
“He left, I imagine.” Gi-hun says instead. It almost seems as if he wants to say more, but he’s holding himself back.  
“It’s just us?” You ask, grasping his hand tightly. You need some sort of anchor to reality. You feel as if you’re starting to slip.  
As if sensing your distress, Gi-hun moves to sit next to you on the bed—all without letting go of your hand. “It’s just us.” He confirms. 
There is so much you wish you could say. But in your exhaustion, only one thing comes to mind. “Can finally get a good night’s sleep,” you say tiredly. You have no intention to hurt Gi-hun; and you doubt he will harm you. You won’t have to stay up all night guarding the group. (Because the group is gone. Because Jun-hee and Dae-ho are dead. Because Young-il left.) 
Gi-hun stares in disbelief, before laughing. The sound breaks you out of your spiraling thoughts. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him laugh before. “I guess so.” He relents. 
The two of you sit there for a while, before the lights-out announcement breaks through the uneasy silence in the dorms. It’s far too quiet—you’re used to hearing pieces of conversations, shuffling as people move about the room. You feel sick to your stomach. And so, so horribly alone. 
You decide to abandon your dignity and ask Gi-hun if you can sleep next to him. Fortunately, before you can overthink the question, Gi-hun is nodding with relief. The two of you then push your mattresses together on the floor and get settled in.
Before long, you’re staring up at the ceiling. Gi-hun’s hand finds yours. You twist to your side and look at him. He looks at you. The distance between you almost seems to shrink, as the two of you gravitate towards one another. There is so much you wish you could say. Dread, guilt, grief, frustration, and exhaustion all battle for prominence in your chest. You lean into him; he leans into you. It feels far too natural. 
This moment is a brief reprieve from the reality of the situation, and the fate that awaits you tomorrow. This glimpse at quiet domesticity is the most you will ever get. 
All things considered, it’s… nice.
The final game is Squid Game, just as Gi-hun predicted. The two of you walk to the arena together, entirely silent. You feel nauseous. You don’t want to die. But you definitely don’t want Gi-hun to die. He must be thinking along the same lines, as his lips are drawn in a tight frown. You trudge up the pastel steps a bit more slowly than usual, as if that will somehow delay your death. (It won’t.)
There’s a knife on the floor in the middle of the squid drawn in the sand. You almost want to laugh. If they think you’ll kill Gi-hun, they’re sorely mistaken. The two of you have chosen to wait until arriving at the final game to announce your decision to end. This way, you may have a chance at meeting the game masters.  
The walls around you are painted a cheerful blue. It couldn’t look more unsettling. You take a slow breath, steeling your nerves as you fight to speak. There’s an eerie silence in the air. “We choose to end the game.” You announce, slowly turning around at the cameras that must be scattered around the area. 
“We’re in agreement.” Gi-hun maintains, his eyes flitting about warily. “Clause 3 allows the majority to end the game.”
Your heart is roaring in your ears as you are met with nothing but silence. Will they really permit you to do this? Are you really allowed this ending? You’re breathing hard, despite the fact that you’re locked in place. 
“Congratulations, Player 228 and Player 456. You have won the 36th Squid Game.”
“What?” You choke. 
“What?” Gi-hun echoes. The two of you exchange bewildered looks. You chose to end the game, so why are you being granted victory? 
You hear sardonic slow applause coming from the other side of the space and you whip around, only to find a man in a geometric black mask. “Well done,” he says, his voice distorted. 
Dread prickles along your skin. Even with the mask and voice distortion, you know who is standing before you both. “Young-il,” you say guardedly. “If that’s even your name.” You add on. You strongly suspect it isn’t. 
The man removes his mask, revealing himself to be 001: Oh Young-il. Your suspicions are confirmed. You don’t quite react, save for subconsciously clenching your jaw. 
“You don’t seem surprised,” Young-il remarks, looking between the both of you. “I suppose that is to be expected. You were quick to catch on.” He says, staring at you intently. You feel restless and fidgety under the weight of his gaze. 
Gi-hun looks… furious, betrayed, and resigned all at once. It’s clear that, despite the fact that he believed you, he still gave Young-il the benefit of the doubt. He is too good for this place, you are reminded once more. 
“Hwang In-ho.” 001 says, apropos of nothing. 
“What?” You hear yourself say.
“My name.” He explains. “You will need to know it, as we are working together from this point forward.”
“What?” You repeat, horror crawling up your throat. Working together? “No, we’re supposed to leave-” You look at Gi-hun helplessly. He looks just as nauseated and disturbed as you are, which is a small ressurance. The winners of the Squid Game are allowed to return home. Right?
“You will receive the prize money, split amongst you both,” Young-il—no, In-ho—continues. As if either of you care about that at the moment. The prize money is the least of your concerns. “However, your continued survival comes with a condition: you must work alongside me to oversee the games.”
Gi-hun and you are both quiet for a long time. “Why?” Gi-hun finally asks, the first to regain his composure after that remark. He shoots you a helpless look, before staring back at In-ho firmly. “Because we’re both alive?” 
“Precisely.” He agrees. In-ho cuts an imposing figure in his all-black clothing and you’re once again reminded of the feeling you got when he first arrived—the sense that he didn’t belong. “You said it yourself a few days ago: there has only ever been one winner. I have negotiated for your (continued survival), on the promise that you will remain here.”
“For how long?” You ask. You don’t particularly care to hide your fear and dread. 
“As long as you have.” He responds easily, clasping his hands behind his back. As long as you have—so, for the rest of your life. 
You pay another glance at Gi-hun, knowing there’s no way he’ll accept this. Sure enough, he looks troubled… then contemplative. You’re hit with an instant feeling of foreboding. Gi-hun seems to be planning something. “If one of us dies,” he says, his voice hollow. “Will the other one be free to go?”
“...I suppose.” In-ho says, his brows furrowing minutely. He doesn’t seem to understand the point of the question.  
“Gi-hun,” you say, suddenly sensing what he’s about to do. The knife is still in the middle of the arena, untouched and neglected. But not for long, you suspect. “Don’t.” You plead. 
Gi-hun is already lunging for the knife. “No-!” You scream, immediately trying to grab the weapon. Gi-hun’s faster—wielding it and attempting to stab himself. You just barely grab his arm in time, the change in momentum sending you both sprawling to the ground. You try to wrestle the knife out of his hands, but it’s an increasingly difficult effort. Your hands are shaking, your arms burning as you use every muscle in your body to keep him from sacrificing himself. 
“Go,” he says, tugging the knife towards him again. You’re pulled along with it, straining to fight his strength. “Live a happy life, away from here.” A happy life. You both know that’s not possible. 
“Not without you,” you choke, your hands trembling on Gi-hun’s. Gi-hun is determined, but you have a height advantage as you lean over him—and you use it to pry the knife from his grip. You don’t hesitate to bring the blade to your own throat. 
“No, no, no-!” Gi-hun immediately grabs at your forearm, attempting to pull the blade away from your neck. There are tears streaming down his face, and your own vision is blurred. Your grip is growing sweaty as your adrenaline keeps you fighting to bring the blade back, if only to spare Gi-hun. The blade is getting closer and closer, already kissing your skin and drawing blood- 
“Enough!” 
In-ho's voice cuts through the air. And you suddenly feel an intense pain in your ear. The knife in your hand clatters to the ground, but you barely notice as your knees crumple under you. You’re practically writhing on the ground, your every nerve thrumming and buzzing. Your vision is pulsing around you; you slam your hands over your ears and whimper. You’ve never felt such intense, relentless pain before. Blood drips down the skin of your palms—your ears are bleeding. Tears run down your cheeks as you try and fail to recognize anything but the blinding pain. 
Finally, it stops. You choke on a breath and hear Gi-hun gasp, evidently reeling just as you are. The sand beneath you almost seems to dig into your palms. There’s a liquid feeling itching at your ears and you wonder just how much blood is trickling down your jaw and neck.
“Enough.” In-ho repeats. You’ve never seen so much emotion on his face: he is furious. He takes the knife from the ground and wields it in a tight grip. “You both will live to oversee the games,” he orders. In-ho’s eyes are still flitting between the both of you warily, as if making sure you won’t try anything again. “That decision is final.” 
With that parting remark, In-ho leaves Gi-hun and you to fall apart in the arena.
©2025, @defectivevillain | @defectivehero, All Rights Reserved. Reblogs are greatly appreciated—just don't steal or share outside of Tumblr, please.
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jigeuminunbich · 2 days ago
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motive | lee donghyuck (haechan)
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synopsis — in which after donghyuck joins jeno on a gym day he finds himself infatuated with his friend’s occasional gym buddy, you.
genre — non-idol!au, fem!reader, comedy, fluff, and strangers to friends to lovers (?)
content — swearing, reader is mentioned to be a gym trainer + nurse tech, also is pretty direct (i won’t her) while hyuck is a loser, a bit more centered on hyuck’s pov than reader’s, jeno is unintentionally playing cupid, hyuck makes one (1) joke about jumping, and featuring jaemin and johnny for like a split second
word count — 4k
playing — motive by ariana grande ft. doja cat
author’s note — ik this is an act of terrorism but: do we all remember hyuck’s gym phase (fact check era)? … yeah. need that. also happy new year omg :D what better way to welcome it than with silly lovestruck hyuck!
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i. baby tell me what’s your motive?
“Just five more minutes…”
“Tuh. That’s what you said five minutes ago, c’mon, get up,” Jeno tugs Donghyuck by his ankles, effectively yanking his full-grown roommate from his bed and to land on the ground below him.
“No!” Donghyuck spits, scrambling back to the comfort of his covers before Jeno can stop him.
“You’re the one who asked me to help you get back in the gym, remember?” Jeno sighs exasperatedly, continuing his mission of excavating his stubborn friend from his bed. This time, Donghyuck holds onto his bed’s post to anchor himself.
Donghyuck angles his head to the side as if he’s in thought, “Did I? I don’t seem to recall…”
It was, in fact, his idea. It took a while to break down Jeno’s resolve for the past few weeks and convince him to help him with training with the welcoming of the new year, but it happened. Now, being woken up at dawn just to be surrounded by sweaty bodies was starting to be an idea he regretted having.
Jeno rolls his eyes, “Well I do, now let go.”
“Never!”
“Donghyuck, I’m telling you now if you don’t get up, I will do it myself.”
A habitual snarky snicker ripples through the younger’s chest, “Is that not what you’ve been struggling to do for the past hour?”
Silence hangs in the man’s room as he registers the grave mistake he’s made: making a jab at Jeno. As the seconds tick by like stomach-churning hours, Donghyuck tosses a quick glance backwards to get a grasp of his roommate’s reaction.
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” Donghyuck pathetically pleads for his life when he meets Jeno’s.
Jeno nods, quietly rolling his shoulders before his bruising grip returns to pull at Donghyuck’s lower half, “Mhm.”
“Wait, agh!”
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“Do we really have to do this?”
Jeno inhaled deeply, he wasn’t sure why he thought his friend’s whining would cease once they stepped foot into his usual gym. He thinks back to the many missed opportunities he had at stop lights where he could’ve pushed Donghyuck out the car, but alas it was now a regret he would just have to live with.
“Listen, you don’t have to whatsoever, but I for one will be gladly working out.”
“I—" Donghyuck prepares himself to shoot back at his roommate but his retort fizzles out on his tongue when he catches you in his peripheral sauntering towards him and Jeno.
“Hi, Jeno!” A delicate voice trills, drawing both men’s attention to you.
Jeno’s eyes crease almost on command, a puppy-like smile stretching across his face. “Hey, I didn’t know you trained on Wednesday’s?”
“I don’t usually but I switched shifts with a coworker.” You shrug with your explanation, quickly adjusting your focus to the rigid man that stood beside Jeno.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m ___!” You jut out your glove-clad hand for him to shake.
Donghyuck takes a moment to grasp that you are in fact speaking to him, a winsome smile gracing his features and ridding him of his dazed expression before he meshes his hand with yours to shake. “Hi, Donghyuck, Jeno’s roommate…”
Your grip in the handshake falters to a stop as it dawns on you who exactly has just been introduced to you, “Ah! You’re Donghyuck?”
Said man’s eyebrows jump for a moment, his smirk growing deeper. “So you’ve heard of me?”
“Well, Jeno mentioned in passing that he’d start bringing you around,” you pause as you draw your hand from his grasp to rest both on your hips, giving the comfortably dressed man a quick once over. “And that you might need a little assistance.”
The manner in which you finish your sentence is controlled, expertly hiding your amusement but Jeno does little to shield his humored snickering. Donghyuck’s face falls flat and stoic, immediately shooting Jeno with an intense glare. But it only takes a beat before Donghyuck’s attention returns to you, quickly turning his suave back on.
“Hmm. You’d be the one helping though, right?”
His charm stuns you for a bit, an amused laugh easing from your nostrils, “I would. If I’m available, of course. I tend to train others whenever I’m here,” your thumb gestures backwards towards a middle-aged woman who is stretching across the gym.
Donghyuck peaks around you for a moment, his mouth forming into an ‘o’ shape, “Oh, you’re a trainer?”
“Yep!” you chirp proudly.
“And a nurse.” Jeno chimes, getting an flustered eye roll out of you.
“Nurse tech,” you correct. “I’m in school to be a physical therapist.”
“Wow. And how exactly do you know Jeno here?” Donghyuck furrows his brows, apparently finding it unbelievable that someone like you would be associated with his friend. It’s Jeno’s turn to glare, and you can’t help but giggle at their exchanges.
“Just from around. Embarrassingly he corrected my form when I was working out one day, and we’ve been buddies ever since.” You affirm, gently bumping Jeno’s exposed shoulder with your first.
Wordlessly Jeno nods, supporting your story. Before Donghyuck can probe you any longer, you throw a quick glance over your shoulder.
“Ah, I’ll catch up with you guys later, yeah?” You ask, already walking away from the interaction and back to your client.
“Uh huh.” Donghyuck responds airily, almost as if he’s in a trance. You smile at his antics, delivering a final wave their way before trotting away.
Donghyuck’s eyes linger on you for a moment before dreamily sighing.
“Could you be a little less pathetic?” Jeno grumbles, shaking his head as his friend practically falls over himself over you.
Donghyuck scoffs, completely tuning out Jeno’s insult with his eyes still focused on your figure across the room, “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you knew such pretty people here, Jeno?”
“Because that’s not the point, now is it?" Jeno roughly pats Donghyuck's shoulder, hoping it would deter him from staring holes into your toned back.
Surprisingly it manages to work and Donghyuck peels his gaze from you to focus on his friend who begins stretching his muscular limbs, “Pfft. It is now. What other days is she here?”
Jeno stills for a moment, an exaggerated, scandalized look on his face, “There’s absolutely no way I’m giving you that information.”
Donghyuck pouts, “Will she be here tomorrow?”
“Doesn’t matter. We won’t be.”
“And why not?” The whiny tone in Donghyuck's voice would almost be endearing to Jeno if he hadn't been subjected to it for the past decade and a half. Instead, it makes the grown man sigh deeply before continuing his routine.
“It’ll be a recovery day,” Jeno murmurs dismissively.
This makes Donghyuck ponder for a moment before a wicked expression graces his face, “Hmm. So, if we work out today, we'll have to recover tomorrow?”
“Precisely.”
“So, if we don’t work out today, can we come tomorrow?” Donghyuck quirks a mischievous eyebrow.
Jeno huffs, “Precisely…”
“Cool. I’m going home!”
Before Donghyuck can even make progress toward the gym exit, a strong grip is placed on the neckline of his t-shirt. Comically, the grown man is pulled back into the exact same stop he once stood in by his roommate.
“Never mind.” Donghyuck recedes sadly, setting down his sad excuse for a gym bag on the ground.
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ii. might have to curve you if you just can’t talk straight
To say Donghyuck was on a mission would be an understatement. Today was nothing like it compared to his first (forced) official gym day. He had woken up with no problems, no Jeno to tug him out of bed. He slipped on his foreign-feeling gym shoes and drove here on his own. Not because he had a sudden desire to fulfill his promise to himself, no. Not because Jeno’s threats finally and genuinely reached his ears, never that. But because of you.
“Oh hey, where’s Jeno?” You come bounding over after several minutes of Donghyuck glancing your way as unsuspectingly as he could muster (spoiler: he did a terrible job).
“Ah, he had a last minute meeting,” Donghyuck waves his hand dismissively in the air. ”I didn’t want to miss out on a chance to get in here,”
You laugh at the way Donghyuck pumps up his obviously flat chest, nodding along despite his antics. “Oh? What are you doing today?”
Donghyuck’s features drop at lightning speed, the cogs turning in his head in real time.
“…uh… I was just gonna… y’know… freestyle a bit. Maybe hit legs—” His slender hands fumble around as he wracks his mind for even a slightly plausible answer to give you.
The giggle you were biting back finally spills past your lips, deciding to end Donghyuck’ suffering, “You have no clue what you’re doing, do you?”
“Absolutely no idea.” He sighs, dropping his head forward shamefully.
You nod, finding the pout on his face incredibly endearing, “Hah. Well, I’m on my own today if you’d like to join me?”
Donghyuck physically perks up at this, his quick change in expression almost sending you spinning. The fond that graces his pink lips leave a ticklish feeling stirring in the base of your stomach, “I’d like that.”
You smirk, forcing yourself to push away the burdensome sensation. “Cool. Fair warning, I’m not gonna take it easy on you just because you’re a friend of a friend.”
A glint that you can only recognize as mischief twinkles in Donghyuck’s deep brown eyes, almost challenging you, “I wouldn’t want you to, anyway.”
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Turns out Donghyuck wasn’t much one for a challenge as you had initially thought.
“Ah, god. Okay, are we done yet?” Donghyuck clumsily tumbles out of seat for the hack squat machine. Not even taking into account the state of the floor that meets him when he braces himself on his hands and knees.
You snort, watching as Donghyuck— now a glistening, drenched mess— crawls around under he lands on his back, nursing his water bottle.
“We’re literally on the second exercise.” You remind slowly.
Donghyuck cranes his neck up from the ground, a horrified look on his face, “What? I feel like I’ve been at this for ages.”
“Do you complain this much with Jeno?” You playfully roll your eyes, tossing him a spare towel from your gym bag.
“Yes.” Donghyuck allows the cloth to cover his face, too drained to even attempt to block it.
“Hm. Tapping out on me already?”
“What? No! I— just give me a minute,” Donghyuck desperately shoots up from his position but clearly moves too fast for the rest of his body to process, having to slump to hoisting himself up by his elbows. You laugh at him, though he was obviously not the gym type you did find him to be incredibly entertaining. He peels an eye open at the sound of your laughter, a handsome smile gracing his face.
Trying to shake the flutter in your stomach from the look in his eyes, you flutter your eyes elsewhere in the gym. Just like his humor, it was undeniable that Donghyuck was attractive.
Donghyuck’s tired smirk deepens the more you avoid his pointed gaze-- almost as if he could sense the line of dialogue in your mind you were actively trying to dismiss, “You good?”
You clear your throat, finally forcing your eyes down to meet Donghyuck’s, “Hm? Are you good is the real question?”
It's Donghyuck's turn to be amused by your behavior, huffing out a breathy laugh before managing to sit up fully, “I’m feeling fine now.”
“Oh?" You quirked an eyebrow, stepping out of the way so he could return to the machine behind you. "Ready for your next set?”
Donghyuck basically shudders at the implication that he would have to put his body through that torture again, grimacing up at you, “On second thought, give me another minute.”
“That’s what I thought.”
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“Why does the gym hurt this bad?” Donghyuck groans, his cries muffled into the plush of his friend’s couch.
“I’m still tryna figure out why you just randomly went?” Jaemin voices confusedly from his kitchen.
Jeno snorts, attention half-heartedly with the assignment he’s supposed to be completing alongside Jaemin. A session that Donghyuck commonly crashes to prevent him from being quote on quote left out, “‘Cause he has a crush.”
For the first time since the man had successfully wobbled his weight onto Jaemin’s couch, his head darted up, “Ah, I just don’t have a crush, Jeno. We’re in love.”
“Did she tell you that?” Jeno peels his eyes in his roommate’s direction.
“Right by the weight rack, actually.” Donghyuck falsely recounts, head now propped by one of his recently overworked arms.
“Sure.”
“Who knew all it took to get you in the gym was an infatuation?” Jaemin strolls back into the living room, placing down the ice bag Donghyuck had incessantly requested upon first arriving on the coffee table.
Jeno scoffs, “I think everyone would have assumed that was all it took but whatever— it makes my life easier.”
“So, Romeo,” Jaemin deliberately plops down on the lower half of Donghyuck’s sore body.
“Ack!” Donghyuck yelps, his pain so severe from his friend's weight that a bright white flash blinds him momentarily.
“When are we seeing the love of your life again?”
Now that he thinks about it, Donghyuck doesn’t know the answer to this question himself (maybe if he had paid more attention to the workout split schedule Jeno had forwarded him— damn), throwing a hopeful (pitiful) look toward Jeno. The recipient sighs, lolling his head to the side in annoyance.
“She doesn’t work out on Sunday’s.”
“Monday it is!”
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iii. tell me everything that’s on your mind
“Who the hell is that?”
“I would assume a fellow gym goer?” Jeno says slowly, fumbling around in his gym bag and not paying Donghyuck a slither of his attention.
“But he’s muscular!” Despite the desperate projection in his friend’s voice, Jeno continues to expertly tune him out.
“Very likely in a place like this…” he hums.
Donghyuck huffs, urgently extending his arms out towards the scene unfolding ahead of him, “Jeno, he’s stealing my wife!”
Jeno rolls his eyes, choosing to spare Donghyuck with a look over his shoulder, “What are— oh, that’s just Johnny.”
Donghyuck looks around bewildered like he isn’t the sole person in the gym throwing a fit, “Am I supposed to know who that bulky fuck is?”
“Dude, he’s like her gym dad— everyone’s actually, nothing to be concerned about…” Jeno shakes his head, completely unsympathetic to his friend’s breakdown.
Donghyuck desperately whips his attention back to you, you and Johnny.
Who the hell is above 30 and named Johnny these days, anyway?
“Look at how hard she’s laughing, I’m gonna jump.”
Jeno bites back an encouraging remark, instead choosing peace, “Why don’t you just— I dunno— do something about it—“ Jeno pans his head back to Donghyuck, mouth gaping to advise him further. “And you’re gone.”
Determined, Donghyuck struts over to you and your interaction. But the closer he gets, the more he truly realizes just how badly this guy could kick his ass— arguably worse than Jeno (and that was saying something).
“Stop it— hey! Oh, Johnny you have to meet Donghyuck,” you gesture towards the man, ignoring how he hilariously ogles up at Johnny like a house mouse. “He’s a close friend of Jeno’s!”
“Hey, nice to meet you.” Johnny warmly extends his hand to be shook, and Donghyuck obediently places his obviously smaller one in his.
Through a tight-lipped smile, Donghyuck replies,“Same here.”
You’re positive that if Johnny didn’t get the cue to recede from the interaction that Donghyuck would still be standing here slowly, but surely further subjecting the older man to a prolonged handshake.
“Did you need something, ‘Hyuck?” The foreign sound of his familiar nickname from your mouth leaves air caught in his throat.
Donghyuck shakes his head profusely, scratching the back of his nape as a vice in this cramped situation he’s found himself in, “Uh, no, no. Just wanted to say hi.”
“Oh, okay,” your lips press into a thin line, bordering a frown.
Johnny smacks his teeth, marking his departure from the interaction, “Well, I’ll leave you kids to it!”
You perk up to bid your friend farewell, “See you next week?”
“Unfortunately!” Johnny waves backwards at you both, delivering goodbyes to fellow gym-goers until he’s officially left the building.
“Hey, you okay?” You return your attention to stiff man adjacent of you.
Donghyuck clears his throat, nodding as he stuffs his hand into the pockets of his sweats, “I’m good. I should probably be getting back to Jen’… he starts getting a little impatient—“
“Donghyuck.” You call out for him before he can even gather up the motivation to inch away from you.
His head pops up and toward you like a puppy, “Hm?”
The resemblance you spot— down to his wide, wet brown eyes— forces you to swallow down a laugh, “I don’t know if you noticed, but I like consistency.”
“… I’m lost.” Donghyuck bats a few long blinks your way.
You sigh, shifting on your feet to lean towards him, “Meaning, if you’re gonna put the moves on me one day, I’d rather you not leave me hanging the next… that is your intention, right?”
Donghyuck looks between both of your eyes as he processes what you’ve just said, you almost think he’ll explode if he continues to think so hard.
“Oh… oh. I didn’t know if you were— are you into me?” He adorably fumbles around, it makes the Donghyuck you remember from his first day in the gym seem like a far stranger.
“Hm. Guess I haven’t made it all that obvious either.” You swing your foot coyly.
Donghyuck gulps, “Heh, yeah. Sorry, I did not think I would get this far,” the tail-end of his sentence sounds as if he’s speaking more to himself. Obviously your admittance still settling in for him.
You giggle at Donghyuck’s endearing deer-like expression, “So, do you wanna go out sometime? Somewhere that preferably doesn’t reek of sweat?” You propose, ruffling through your gym bag while Donghyuck follows your every movement intently.
“God yes—” Donghyuck practically melts at the invitation, earning an amused giggle from you. He clears his throat, shuffling to cross his arms and hopefully hide his swelling embarrassment. “I mean, yeah, that’d be great.”
“Cool. I’ll be expecting your call.” You hand him a small card with your number on it. Donghyuck accepts the card as if he were to hold it too tightly, it’ll shatter into pieces.
“See you around?” You effectively draw his attention back to you before he can trace his eyes over your contact information once more.
Donghyuck nods before he can control it, “You can count on it.” He affirms.
“Good.” You sling your bag over your shoulder, sashaying past Donghyuck with a coquettish wave. Just like you had grown used to, he tracks your every movement until you’ve finally left the gym, daydreamingly sighing to himself before his sweet reverie is interrupted by Jeno’s disgruntled face entering his line of vision.
“Genuinely how?”
“I could teach you a thing or two if you want, Jeno. Lucky for you we’re close enough so it’d come at a discounted price— ouf!”
Jeno tosses a deft kettlebell into Donghyuck’s hold which leads him to crumble forward like a ragdoll, “Play nice before I sick Johnny on you.”
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© jigueminunbich 2025
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cc1306 · 2 days ago
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hopeless romantic! suna, who can’t stop zoning out, while you’re telling him all about the fight the twins got in during second period. he stares at you blankly, thinking about the way your nose crinkles from laughter as you’re talking to him. cute.
hopeless romantic! suna, who asks, “sorry, what were you saying?” in response to you waving your hand in his face and snapping him out of his daze. with a slight blush on his face, he turns his head, mortified that you caught him failing to pay attention.
“seriously…keep up!” you reprimand him with a half-serious frown and a pout, and he forces himself to pay full attention not wanting to subject himself to such embarrassment again.
hopeless romantic! suna, who stays up late that night facetiming osamu, as he rambles on about some argument he and atsumu got into earlier in the day.
“sunarin, pay attention! quit thinking about [name], i’m talking to you,”
“i wasn’t thinking about her,” he defends, knowing full well that he was wondering if you were still awake before osamu interrupted.
“right, and i’m not the better twin. you know, you should just confess to her before it’s too late. someone else might make a move before you do, then you’ll never get to be with her.”
osamu’s statement made suna think hard.
“…yeah well she doesn’t like me like that. we’re just friends ‘samu.”
“you two are insufferable. let me know when you grow a pair and finally ask her out,” osamu groans out, growing tired of suna’s crippling fear of rejection.
“whatever… im tired now, bye,” suna cut off osamu’s rant with a yawn, before he ended the call.
would she really go out with someone else?
today was the day. suna decided that today would be the day he put his fear to the side and told [name] how he felt. he felt his hands tremble every time she was near and his heart pound, as adrenaline surged through his body.
during your lunch break, you sat on the roof together, just the two of you alone. suna saw this moment as his opportunity, the perfect chance to try and confess his feelings to you. you were currently rambling to him again, telling a story he honestly tried to listen to, but it proved difficult considering his heart was beating out of his chest, as he thought of how you’d respond to what he was about to tell you.
“and then aran and kita told me-“
“[name], i-“ he interrupts you mid-sentence, but his voice got caught in his throat. he cursed himself for being so nervous, all he had to do was say the three words but nothing came out.
“yeah, what’s up?” you ask him, as you drink from your strawberry milk carton contentedly.
“i…umm… i have something to tell you,”
okay yes, good start. just tell her.
“okay…should i be worried?” you ask, starting to get concerned about how serious suna suddenly became.
you thought he’d been acting strange the past week, like how he’s been zoning out recently when speaking to you, or just staring strangely. you’re getting the vibe that somethings wrong with him. maybe he’s sick? maybe he doesn’t want to be your friend anymore? you have no clue what to think, so you chose to hear him out.
“no…well, maybe.”
he felt his hands getting clammy and nervously rubbed them on his trousers. his eyes darted everywhere, looking at everything in the room except back at your own expecting pair. he realised he’d been silent for too long - he needed to say something now.
“i have to tell you how much you mean to me. you might not realise it, but i’m obsessed with you. i think of you before i sleep, and you’re the first thing i think of when i wake up. you consume me, and i don’t know what i would do without you,” he blurted out, speaking so quickly you wouldn’t have been able to keep up if you weren’t listening so intently.
you sat there, stunned in silence. of all things he could’ve said to you, you certainly didn’t expect this. he took your silence as a signal to continue his speech.
“i need you in ways that surely can’t be healthy,” he chuckled, releasing a nervous breath.
“i-“
“you don’t have to accept it. i don’t expect you to tell me you feel the same, but i’d wait forever for you. if you want to be just friends then we will. but you have to tell me what to do. i like you so much. you can say you hate me. you can say you don’t feel the same. just tell me the truth.”
he couldn’t muster up the courage to look you in the eyes, so he kept his gaze trained to the ground, staring hard at the laces of his shoes.
“suna..” you started, forcibly sucking in a breath of air since you felt like all of it had been knocked out of your lungs.
“that’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever said to me. thank you. i don’t now what i’d do without you either because i like you too,” you confessed as he rushed to hold you in his arms in a warm hug.
“thank God, i don’t know what i’d do if you rejected me,” he joked, covering up his anxiety with humour.
“i could never reject you,” you beamed at him in return. he felt his heart explode.
hopeless romantic! suna, who returned to last period that day with a smile from ear to ear, as he entered the classroom hand in hand with you by his side.
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sprites4ever · 3 days ago
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Of course the self-proclaimed patriot who is literally flying an inverted US flag needs to comfort himself with the idea that a Trump supporter stopped being that because he was indoctrinated by the evil marxist academia. Nevermind the fact that by 'edgy teenager', I meant that I was FOURTEEN. I stopped supporting Trump at age eighteen in 2020. I finished high school in 2021.
No, I wasn't indoctrinated. For me, it was quite simply witnessing MAGA's own statements regarding the murder of George Floyd, and how many people defended Derek Chauvin. It was there, that I realized just how much damage this political ideology does. At the time, I also met more women, LGBTQ+ community members and people of color and listened to their words, not the words which Right-wing pundits put in their mouths. I learned to get over the Right-wingers' typical superiority complex with which they romanticize their own reactionary nature. I developed empathy and did my own research, instead of believing every word of the garbage alt-media that's just as one-sided as the mainstream media. I also realized that the whole 'underdog against a dystopian liberal agenda' narrative is just that - a narrative. I also broadened my horizon by comparing the Western world to actually autocratic places where people have an agenda forced upon them.
What you call MSM talking points, I've arrived at on my own through years of research, critical thinking, discussions with the likes of you, and self-evaluation. The Left has plenty points which I disagree with btw, and while I consider myself a socialist, I'm not fond of partisanship at all. The Left's raging idiots who unconditionally support Hamas are a good example. I consider myself a progressive before I consider myself a socialist.
Ultimately, your apparent hatred of academia, which is oh-so-common in MAGA and fascism as a whole is just tragic: You people are sold on the idea that everything which contradicts your idol's statements is enemy propaganda, even if it's purely scientific. You've stuck yourself to your love for Donald Trump so much, you're willing to stamp off everything that proves him a liar as a malicious attack on this supposed hero. He is making you intentionally reject the truth when it is literally presented to you, to keep you in the dark and to keep you loyal. He is your Big Brother and academia is your Emmanuel Goldstein. This is the same dynamic of building a blind following, which the various organized religions have used for millenia.
YOU ARE IN A CULT.
Here's an Example as to why Donald Trump is fascist
Donald Trump wants Concealed Carry Reciprocity.
What is that?
In the United States, it is not automatically legal to carry a firearm in a concealed manner just because one has a firearms license. One needs to obtain a special additional permission to do so. Like most things in the United States, Concealed Carry is decided on a state-by-state basis, meaning a person's permission for Concealed Carry only applies in the state it in which it was issued.
Concealed Carry Reciprocity is the legal concept that a permission for Concealed Carry, issued in any state, applies in all states. So, if a gun owner was permitted to Concealed Carry in Oklahoma, he can currently only do so in Oklahoma. Doing it in any other state is a crime. Under Concealed Carry Reciprocity, it would not be.
What does Donald Trump intend with this?
Donald Trump knows that his most loyal followers live in deep red states, which also have the highest concentrations of gun owners. Due to the high concentrations and due to Republicans being generally against gun control, it is likelier that more gun owners in red states have Concealed Carry permission. Donald Trump wants to allow people to Concealed Carry in any state if they've received permission in one, because he knows that most people who will take advantage of this will be his most loyal followers.
Donald Trump plans to lay the groundwork for his version of Mussolini's Blackshirts and Hitler's Brownshirts, his own paramilitary force of loyal followers who are ready to attack and murder fellow citizens in open daylight for their political positions that oppose their idol. Concealed Carry Reciprocity makes it easier for them to do this.
This is fascism.
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biancadoes1 · 1 day ago
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Hi,
First off, thank you for posting my post. Organized Anon. I never thought people would care what I had to write, just had to get that off my chest and I love a good list lol. I guess, I have more so here is part 2. Lol
Today will be the Wild West west for Lukolas. I see people sending in post that are all over the place.
I myself am not a lukola -per se. I love Nic and Luke. I would love if they dated. But I like to remain neutral. I find it is the best for me. For me.
I am seeing posts saying Nic and Luke are beefing bc he did not post for her bday and she has not liked her post. My advice is to not engage with people who think Nic is dating Jake. It is a waste of time. You could have ET standing next to you saying aliens are real and they still will not believe you. It doesn’t matter about posts talking about the meaning of sweet one, they will not listen. The only thing to prove a jakola wrong is to let them use their brain. Trust me, if you ask question that requires thinking, in a respectful way, they will not know how to respond or what to do.
again, saying Nic is with JD bc she went to his premiere is childish. Saying she is mad with Luke and she has been showing JD off since Luke went to Rome is childish. Saying there is beef between them is childish. yes, I am even calling so called Lukolas on this site out who are agreeing with things.
there is nothing we can say to prove or show. But again, ask yourself those key questions.. if she is dating Jake and they have been out an about all this time, why not just post or tag that is who she was with in her photo. Nic has a brain and smart. We know they went to the WT movie together and we know they spend time together so why not post or tag him- and she might later do this- but why be public with JD on certain days and private with him on other days- makes no sense. No logical sense. People already think they date, so why hide him on the bday post. -Because his is most likely isnt dating him. This is just from rational thinking.
again, think rationally. Why would two adults- who play a beloved fan favorite of Polin be beefing and put in on SM for the world to think so. It’s bad for the product. Look at the Amazon show, culpa tuya. The leads are apparently beefing and yea people are talking but Polin is a different type of love story. Shonda would not let dirty laundry out so stop with the beefing theory. People sound like children. And these are grown adult women. Stop thinking that people are vindictive and want to manipulate others. Go seek therapy and figure out why toxicity is a driving force in your life. If Nic was beefing, why is Luke all over her end of year dump. His photo is on the back of her phone. At the least, they are besties.
now the million dollar question- why did he post for Claudia Bday and not Nic. There are only two possible reasons. A. JD is her man and he did not want to take away from JD on her special day. OR B. Luke is her man or her and Luke are getting close and decided to make it private - no attention. I believe the latter based on rational clues. Extra extra eyes were on them this year. Commenting on her SAG post was loud but not posting is louder. Personal stays private.
Could I be wrong yes- lol. But I’ll leave with this. If Nic is dating JD, you will have people saying she trolled the fandom. And if you are being honest, it can be seen that way. Posting and not posting jd. Jd trolling as well, saying things like people want me to marry Luke , doing that audiobook. It’s just too much. And she will get push back and fans will leave. I don’t care how nice people think JD is, he is not worth losing fans for. But let’s not think on this. We will cross that bridge, when or a big big big big if we need too. thanks!!!
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