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erysser · 2 days ago

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Can i request thanos x reader where the reader sacrifice herself for thanos in the bathroom scene

A GUT FEELING

-> pairings : Choi Su Bong [Thanos] x reader

-> a/n : Thank you so much for requesting!! This is my first time writing and I hope you enjoy anon <3

The third vote had just ended with a tie. Your eyes stare at the scoreboard, unsure of what it would display tomorrow when the voting was redone. Truly, you wanted to vote for X, you had a life out there, but with Thanos' pleading eyes as he promised you one more game... how could you say no?

Besides you, Thanos and Nam-gyu were whispering amongst themselves about something together, their eyes glaring at Min-su who was standing awkwardly in the middle of the X team. Pity engulfs you as you see the boy's nervous expression. You didn't blame him for voting X.

The guards call out to the players like clock-work, instructing people who wanted to go to the bathroom to go now. You lean back on your bed, back against the wall, the feeling of wanting to relieve yourself not making itself present yet.

Thanos climbs up into your bed beside you, a wild grin on his face as he talks, "Hey senorita, me and Nam-gyu are going to the toilet to have a small chat with Min-su."

You furrow your eyebrows at him, shaking your head lightly at his plan.

"I don't think that's a good idea," you start, your voice soft and persuasive, "a fight could break out and..."

Thanos laughs at your hanging sentence, "Don't worry about me, flower! I'm Thanos, I can deal with whatever they throw at me! You probably have to worry about Nam-gyu over there though."

His voice was dripping with boisterous confidence as he reassured you, Nam-gyu rolling his eyes at his statement before hurrying the purple-haired man up.

Your chest constricted, something felt wrong about this and as Thanos moved away from you, your hand caught hold of his wrist. He stops his movement, his gaze meeting your eyes. His eyes were full of unfiltered confidence, like there was no fear behind them. He never seem to have fear in him. After and during every single game, he smiled and joked like his life was not on the line.

"Be careful," you whisper softly to him, turning to Nam-gyu and repeating the same words as you pulled your hand off.

Nam-gyu scoffs as he hears the words, but gives an irritated nod as he moves to walk away towards the door. Thanos looks at you and winks, giving you a thumbs up and a flying kiss as he and Nam-gyu excitedly walk off to the bathroom area.

☆

You weren't sure how long it had been. 5— No— 10 minutes, maybe since Thanos and Nam-gyu had left for the bathroom. A sinking feeling was slowly taking over you as your mind lingered on it longer; why were they taking so long?

With a huff, you stood up from your bed, moving towards the door where the guards were, announcing to them that you needed to relieve yourself. Thankfully, as the allocated time wasn't up, they let you through.

Your footsteps echo throughout the long winding hallway until they finally stood in front of the two doors leading to the male and female toilet. Your heart beat quickens, hearing the shouting and arguing from within the male bathroom. Eyes widening, you quickly realise what was happening inside.

You look at the guards who stood outside. They stood as still as a statue, their heads looking in-front, as no emotion or feeling exuded from their faceless bodies as they stood guard.

"Aren't you going to do anything?!" You shout at them, your face scrunching up as confusion and frustration laces your voice.

You knew they wanted you dead. You knew they didn't care about the people who died, but you thought they would at least have the decency to let the players die in the games and not in a dingy bathroom!

You groan as no response came out of the triangle-masked guards. You didn't care. You stomped towards the door as they make no moves to stop you.

You heaved slightly as you move to push the door open, chest tightening as you see the scene unfold in front of you.

Men stood, fighting with each other. Some of them were on the floor, rolling around in who knows who's blood. Disgust fills you as today's dinner threatens to come up. What the hell was happening here? Your eyes scan the room, searching for the man with the bright purple hair in the middle of this brawl.

It didn't take you long to spot him. He sat on top of player 333, hand around his neck as he moves to choke him. You stood frozen, staring as you watch. Your eyes drink the image up. He didn't notice you, his whole focus on eliminating player 333. He didn't notice player 333's right arm moving and raising to stab him with the fork they had give you all for dinner.

Before your mind could even process what was happening, you move towards them, pulling Thanos off with a clean tug as player 333 swung his fork into air, barely missing Thanos' neck.

Thanos looks at you, wide-eyed and confused but before you could even answer his unasked questions, player 333 lunges for him again. You push Thanos away, trying your best to restrain him as you topple onto the floor with him, hitting your back onto to the cold tile floor. You gripped onto player 333's hand, trying to disarm him but his grip was tighter. His arm was stronger. He was stronger.

In the last few seconds, you catch Thanos's panicked gaze. Funny, that was the first time you had ever seen him panic. You give him a soft smile as you feel a sharp pain through your neck. Your neck heats up as you let go of player 333's hand, subconsciously trying to stop the blood from leaving your body.

Thanos tries to pull him off but it was no use as you continue to bleed out. Player 333's falls back, shocking painting his facw as his eyes stare at your face as you heaved, trying to breathe.

"Nonononono, c'mon y/n, you can't do this to me," Thanos says, immediately going to hold your head. He lifts you up slightly, holding you close to him as he takes his jacket off, trying to stop the bleeding. He wraps the green fabric across your neck, desperately trying to block the blood.

You could barely muster a goodbye, your vision fading slowly as it all turned into a haze, you could make out his purple tufts of hair as he stared at you.

"C'mon, that was real stupid of you y/n! You're Thanos' star, my star you can't die on me! You promised me one more game! I- I promised to take you out after we get out of this shithole." His voice was rapid, fast and breathless. Cracking and breaking slightly but stable enough to understand. No wonder he was a rapper. The thought amused you as you move to touch his face but your arms felt limp. You couldn't even move to touch him.

It wasn't long before you're heart stopped beating. The heart that once rapidly beat in Thanos' presence stopped at the moment he was closest to it.

Thanos could feel your soul leave your body. His mind reeled as he watches your eyes glaze over, your mouth slightly ajar as a satisfied look shrouded your face.

You were dead.

He couldn't believe it. It couldn't be true. His mind replayed your last moments as his hands that held your lifeless body shook. You were alive right? This was all some sort of sick nightmare, but as you laid unresponsive to his words. He was forced to deal with the truth.

He puts you down neatly on the tile floor, hands shaking as he opened the locket where he stored his drugs. Slowly, he popped one in, eyes roaming across the room until they see the man who had taken your life. He stood up, knuckles whitening as he rushes in front to put that man in his place.

It should've been him. It should've been Thanos. It should've been anyone but you.

He was a second away from pummeling the man's head in when the guards finally entered, tearing Thanos away from him.

They were all escorted into the main room, bloodied and battered. Thanos' mind kept replaying the scene, the drug seeming to have no effect in keeping those thoughts at bay. Beside him, Nam-gyu walks quietly, unsure of what to say.

Anger enveloped Thanos' mind as they announced the eliminated players, your number being called out last. His eyes look over to the X side, immediately catching player 333's gaze.

He had taken his money and had now stolen the person Thanos cared about the most.

Whatever the next game was, Thanos was going to make sure that player 333 gets eliminated.

#thanos #thanos x reader #choi su bong #choi su bong x reader #thanos angst #squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game x reader

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bethany81707 · 1 day ago

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Potential spoilers

It's never stated outright to my knowledge, but it's generally implied that the penalty for murder is universally or near-universally the death penalty

The fact that two of the "murderers" (one case of "killed the wrong target" and "accomplice to the real murderer", incidentally) were both on death row and talking to one another is a plot point. Despite this, the daughter of a convicted killer is a major character and the characters talk around what happened to her father so much I'm not 100% sure he got the death penalty.

There are no restrictions on where or how you can find evidence. You, a defense attorney who doesn't work for the police force and has no equivalent of warrant law, can break into a witness' house and steal evidence from his personal safe to show in court the next day. This is not a crime apparently.

The one time Phoenix gets called out on this is the one time they actually pretend Evidence Law is a thing, because it's actually the Chief of Police's safe he opened. Phoenix goes along with this because he doesn't want the person the evidence implicates to be guilty.

All of your trials are overseen by the same judge and he is comically incompetent. This isn't an oversight of the game he is deliberately written to suck at his job, be easily bullied by the prosecution, generally have very little idea what's going on and issue his verdict based on Vibes.

I have seen three different judges thus far (I haven't played the whole series exhaustively yet), and the most common one is probably the best one at his job. His Canadian brother is a terrible human being on top of the standard set of things, and Verity Gavelle (the only one with a name), is outright corrupt.

Guess who's about to get tased and robbed in the police precinct evidence room by a highly respected and successful prosecutor! Guess who didn't make photocopies of the evidence that's about to get stolen!

To be fair to him, I don't believe the stolen evidence was ever actually in Phoenix's possession outside this room before the tasing.

...I'm not even sure he had the evidence at all.

I love the incredibly fair and functional justice system in Ace Attorney

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goldfades · 1 day ago

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DAYLIGHT! | JOE BURROW⁹

ev's notes: everything will be under the first tag on this post -> ( daylight | joe x kelce!reader ). feel free to send in asks in my inbox, your thoughts are always the reason why series are so fun!!!

⟢ ┈ summary | the youngest kelce has always been somewhat an enigma.

growing up in the shadow of two of the nfl’s biggest personalities, she’s always managed to keep a lower profile, content to let jason and travis soak up the spotlight while she carved out a quieter existence. sure, she’s been spotted at games, made appearances on new heights, and endured the occasional media curiosity that comes with being a kelce—but for the most part, she’s kept her world private. not by accident, either. she’s built a life outside of football, outside of the noise, and she’s been just fine staying in her lane.

until joe burrow happened.

joe has always been a little different from the rest of the league—sharp, calculated, the definition of cool without ever having to try. he’s got that rare ability to command a room without raising his voice, to keep the world at arm’s length while still making everyone want to know more. his private life? practically untouchable. he’s never been one for high-profile romances, never the guy caught slipping up or getting messy in the media.

which is why when the rumors start—quiet at first, then deafening—it doesn’t feel real. the youngest kelce and joe burrow? people don’t know what to do with that information. because on the surface, it doesn’t make sense. she’s spent her whole life avoiding the spotlight. he lives under it.

and suddenly, the girl who never wanted the attention is at the center of everything.

⟢ ┈ playlist

here are the fics i posted before making this an official series: hard launch, first kiss

fics

chapter one | the youngest kelce has spent her whole life navigating the chaos of her famous last name, always lingering in the background while her brothers took center stage. but when travis falls for taylor swift, she suddenly finds herself feeling like a third wheel in her own family. and after your heartbreak with an nba player, you never thought you'd find love again.

blurbs

#( daylight | joe x kelce!reader )#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow bengals #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow x oc #joe burrow x you

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theolliesaurus · 1 day ago

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i'm so sorry,, op.

february this year will mark 10 years since i lost my dad - he passed away in his sleep from an aneurysm in his heart. yet i still remember when we got the phone call - it was the morning and my mum came to wake me up. the news didn't Hit until a later date. i didn't know how to cry when i first found it all out; that he'd passed 3 days prior to the call and was found face down in his bed,, that my sister was preparing to tell him the news of her then pregnancy.

i remember i got out of bed because my mum wanted me to follow her into my sister's room. my sister was sobbing buckets on the bed. and that was when my mum broke the news. i didn't outwardly react or start crying. i don't remember feeling much of anything. but my sister wanted me to come forwards when my mum left the room,, and she just pulled me in close and hugged me. but i still didn't cry.

the one thing i did was turn on my laptop and start watching a video to escape the news instead. but i still didn't yet cry.

but instead the funeral in march was where i broke.

what hurts the most is i never got to see him one last time,, nor did i ever get to say goodbye. and i still feel so guilty about not being able to communicate with him anymore because of the trauma of what he went through in past years,, with his sudden fall that lead to a triple heart bypass surgery,, to which he then would have to remain in a care home for the rest of his years as it excelled his huntington's to the point he couldn't live or care for himself anymore.

and because i no longer have him in my life,, i fear what will happen when i inevitably will lose my remaining parent or how i'll cope - my mum is my carer as i can't live independently due to disability,, there's things i can't do to take care of myself and skills i'm not able to learn.

which then sparks fears of what's going to happen to my sisters and to me,, because i'm planned to be transferred over to one if anything should happen to our mum,, and then transferred over to another if anything then happens to the sister who's first in line to care for me,, and so forth and so forth.....

but;

two or three of my favourite childhood memories that i look back on often include how my dad would take me shopping with him in the car into the next town,, and the shopping center had a little cafe next to it - the cafe had one of those coin-operated kiddie rides outside of it also (it was Scoop from "Bob the Builder"). so when we had finished shopping,, my dad then took me into the cafe and he bought me a cake to eat,, and then would let me play on that kiddie ride.

or there was a moment where we drove to the next town in the car,, and he stopped at one point to buy us a pastry each,, and we just sat in the car together eating our pastries.

or just the simplicity of being taken to the library to rent out a dvd on the weekends when he came to pick me up from my house. then we'd walk on down to his flat afterwards where i'd stay for a couple hours before bringing me back home. i'd play games on his computers,, or i'd take pictures with his photography camera out the back window.

or how when we'd make cakes down his flat,, he'd let me lick the mixture in the bowl and off the spoon. and how he'd let me help out with putting the roast chicken in the oven for dinner.

i still have a piece of his flat. a bit of his wallpaper that was ripped. and yet it's tucked away in a cupboard below my computer.

i have his photography camera that he left me. and yet i just can't bring myself to use it.

i had his computer from his care home that he wanted me to have - because i would always do drawings on it when i visited. it was the one physical thing i had left of him that felt alive. and yet i broke down when it suddenly didn't work anymore. now it sits tucked away in our storage cupboard downstairs; because i still can't part with it.

i still have some money that he inherited to me that i still haven't yet touched or done anything with.

it all still hurts.

and what hurts more is my mum offered for me to see his body in the coffin on the day of the funeral,, but i declined and said no.....

No one prepares you for how crippling grief is, last year my mom died of cancer. I watched her decline so rapidly that my brain couldn't understand who I was looking at by the time she passed. I couldn't understand who I was by the time she passed because I had to become a vessel who makes appointments, dresses, nurses, cooks and an entity who does not sleep. I did it all alone. The reality is that cancer eats away at everything, it lives on even after the patient dies. It ate away at every part of me, I couldn't get out of bed, I had sleep paralysis, I couldn't stop seeing her... like that. They asked me if she's my grandmother when they carried her out of the house. She was in her early 50s. Do you understand? In 3 months, she began to look like she was 80. Everyone wanted me to move on after a month, no one called anymore, not even a text. I thought I was alone when she was alive, but this was a new type of isolation. One that I barely survived. (thank you to my mutuals and tumblr for being an outlet)

It's been a year and 6 months, today I realized she's not the first thing I think of in the morning, or the last thing I think of before I fall asleep. I couldn't even call to do paperwork before, now I'm forgetting why it was even that difficult.

The sun's out, I think i'm going to get ice cream without feeling guilty that it's not something she can do anymore.

#grief tw #parent death tw #cancer tw #medical tw #long post

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ekkkkey · 3 days ago

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there will be games! (chapter II)

summary: Cassandra, a quiet and loyal wife to the much older Senator Tiberius, accidentally attracts the unsettling attention of Emperor Caracalla at a lavish feast hosted by Senator Thraex...

warnings: 18+ minors dni, noncon, dub-con, non-consensual drug use, when the emperor is a bit insane, mommy issues, daddy issues, every kind of issues—this little shit has them all (he’s so cute)

word count: 5k words

chapter I

«No woman could feel safe if her beauty or name aroused the emperor's curiosity.»

-Suetonius, The Twelve Caesars (Caligula, Chapter 36)

⋆ ⋆ ☼ ⋆ ⋆

She didn't want to get out of bed, didn't want to leave their room, all she wanted was to go home. Not to their new villa in Rome, not even to her husband's old house. Cassandra longed for her childhood home, with her father and sisters, where she could always be the little girl.

"You're an early bird today," Tiberius said, waking and stretching towards her.

Her heart skipped, her palms sweaty with worry.

"Those who apologize properly deserve forgiveness, don't they, little bird?" - another voice, deceptively tender but promising nothing good, echoed in her mind.

Cassandra wrapped herself tighter in the sheet, licking her lips, hiding her body from her husband, not wanting his touch.

"I slept poorly. And I don't feel well. When will we return home?"

Tiberius got up, his brief morning tenderness replaced by his usual sour mood.

"When the games end. Not before. I've got business."

Normally gentle and shy, she never argued with him, but this time, she tossed the sheet aside and jumped up, chasing after him, desperate to talk face-to-face. Her hands shook. She pictured herself – pale, nervous, dark circles under her eyes, hair a mess, more like a madwoman than a loving wife. Ashamed of her sudden anger, Cassandra covered up again.

"I feel awful, I'm nauseous, could it be a child, Tiberius?" she tried to elicit some sympathy, pressing her hand to her stomach.

She couldn't stand another moment in the palace.

"Tell me, wife, what troubles you so much?" - he took a step forward. She had never truly feared him, but suddenly realized that after yesterday, both he disgusted her and she feared him. It was his fault! Everything that happened to her was his fault!

"I'm really not well."

"And where better than the emperor's palace to find a good physician?"

Realizing her words were futile, she slumped back on the bed's edge, and Tiberius knelt in front of her, resting his cheek against her leg.

"The emperor," he began, "Emperor Caracalla, he's ill. His mind is rotting, just like his body, so you won't find better physicians here. Should I call someone for you?"

Cassandra couldn't breathe, pulling away from her husband, standing up in a daze, not caring about her nudity. Even when servants walked in, she didn't cover up, lost in dark thoughts.

Emperor Caracalla's mind was afflicted by a disease? What kind of disease? She knew nothing about medicine and couldn't even guess. Did this make him more dangerous, or was his nature already cruel and violent? His smirking face flashed in her mind, his mood swings, his smile turning to a sneer...

Cassandra flinched when someone touched her from behind. She quickly scolded herself.

"Stop, he won't burst into your chambers while you're with your husband!" - she repeated, but she didn't believe it, if he wanted, he'd take her right in front of Tiberius, and no one would stop him.

She spent the entire morning trying to comfort herself, but her anxiety only grew. First, Tiberius noticed the purple bite on her skin. She managed to excuse it, saying he'd had too much wine and hadn't been gentle with her in bed. He believed her.

She was horrified again when the slave girls began to dress her.

"This isn't my clothing!" - the fabrics were too vivid and fine, and they...they smelled of aromatic oils and powder.

"Not yours, true, but we'll be here for some time, and until your clothes arrive from the villa, you need something to wear, don't you?" her husband murmured, looking at her like a piece of art. "You can't just walk around naked, can you?"

She would have preferred to parade through the palace entirely naked rather than willingly wear the clothes and jewels Caracalla had sent her, fully aware of how pleased he would be. Yet, the problem was, her nude debut would have left him equally pleased.

The stands were louder than ever, and only when they entered the imperial box did she understand why. The Colosseum was flooded!

They were late due to her distraction and sluggishness; if she had her way, they wouldn't have come at all, but there she was, seated behind Lucilla once again.

Despite the excitement of the ship battles, the clanging of metal, her eyes kept falling on the red-haired head before her.

Neither emperor acknowledged their arrival, too absorbed in the spectacle, and while Geta later gave her husband a nod of recognition, Caracalla didn't even turn around. Anger simmered in her chest. For him, last night was nothing, but for her...For her, it had haunted her all night and morning. All her thoughts were trapped in those wretched, humiliating moments.

Why did he seem to have forgotten while she, cursedly, remembered every touch? Remembered his hands were soft and hot, his scent sweet, almost intoxicating... And, of course, she remembered the bitter humiliation from his words, from how he touched her, and that Emperor Geta had watched it all.

Cassandra pressed hard on her palm where the wound was healing, trying to push away the memories. She wouldn't let him occupy her mind as well.

Yet, she couldn't relax, pandemonium broke out in the box when the ships came too close and an arrow hit the column between the emperors' chairs. The last thing she heard before Tiberius pulled her out was Emperor Geta's piercing scream.

The palace was buzzing with unbearable noise, the feast meant for evening had transitioned into the day, though the servants were not fully prepared.

Cassandra stood by a column, wine cup in hand. Her husband had left her again, off with General Acacius. The emperors were nowhere to be seen, nor were most of the Senate.

"How many do you think will be executed today?" she heard a quiet female whisper.

"I wouldn't be surprised if the emperor ordered all the gladiators on the field to be gutted," another voice answered, "you know how he is, insatiable!" A burst of giggling followed, and Cassandra stopped listening, embarrassed by the direction of their conversation.

She understood that for many, winning the emperors’ favor was a dream. But for her? She was a married woman who had spent her youth cultivating a sense of duty, loyalty, and responsibility. Why, then, had the gods abandoned her? Faithful and devoted as she was, they had thrown her to their earthly incarnations to be torn apart.

"More wine, domina?" a slave girl dutifully refilled her goblet.

The girl was young, dark-skinned, and beautiful, with large, intelligent eyes. Cassandra noticed the gilded collar around her slender neck and suddenly felt an invisible, soft, and hot hand squeezing her own throat. In a rush, she took a large gulp, wincing at the bitter taste, then handed the cup back.

"No more, thank you," she said, licking her lips nervously, knowing she wouldn't find peace in this cacophony.

"Are you not well, domina?" the girl asked, worry in her voice.

"I just...I need some time alone," she muttered quickly, stepping away from the column, only to stagger and clutch her head. What was happening to her?

"Do you want me to take you somewhere quiet, domina? You can rest and come back later," the girl didn't wait for an answer, guiding her by the elbow out of the room. Such audacity from a slave was unheard of, but Cassandra was too rattled and her head was spinning.

"Where are we going?"

They navigated past the throne room into a small, almost secretive chamber. The ceiling wasn't as high, the columns much less grand, the lighting dim and gloomy, and in the center stood a white altar, adorned with gold. In her parents' home, next to her room, there was a similar one, much more modest, of course, but dear to her heart, where she had prayed to her late mother.

"Wait outside," the words were both a sentence for her and an order for the slave.

She wanted to scream. Of course, he was here. No one was to be trusted, even the slave's kindness was a trap—cruel and painful. Was she truly nothing more than a prisoner here, a powerless plaything to entertain the young emperor?

Every time she saw him, he seemed like a different person. He was dressed in black and gold, with a golden laurel crown and an earring. Gold, gold, gold! She despised its gleam, for in it, she saw him.

Huddled against the wall, she stood frozen, afraid to move. The emperor did seem different this time—melancholic and contemplative. His pale eyes were unusually clear and sober as they met hers.

"What did you tell your husband?" His voice was different too: calm, measured. That made it all the more terrifying. Cassandra couldn’t read his mood from his face.

"Nothing, Caesar," she whispered, afraid to speak louder, as if his calm depended on it.

Caracalla turned to the altar, studying it as if seeing it for the first time. She held her breath, watching the golden laurel shimmer in the torchlight.

"Come closer."

His tone was pensive, his light brows furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. The moment she stepped closer, the emperor’s gaze shifted to her. It slid from her neck, lower, along the colorful tunic she wore.

"My mother used to wear this," he said. To her surprise, his right hand was bare of rings as he brushed the fabric over her chest lightly, almost tenderly. His eyes stayed locked on hers.

Though still afraid, it felt different from yesterday. Worse.

Why had he forced her to come here? Why had he dressed her in the clothes of his dead mother? Cassandra cast a desperate glance at the door, but he noticed immediately. The corner of his mouth twitched.

"She often came here," he continued, "prayed to the gods," his words were vague, her thoughts growing heavier, "do you pray often?"

"Yes, Emperor," she replied, though her mind was growing heavier, duller, as though lulled into a haze that numbed her fear.

"When was the last time?"

The conversation was bizarre, so unlike what had happened the night before. Feeling almost drunk, she answered without thinking, and that's when everything started to spiral.

"Today, when that arrow almost hit you," she said, breathing heavily, it was hot, like under the midday sun, "I prayed for the next one to hit."

Her tormented mind knew he would kill her now. That Caracalla would carry out his threats, destroy her and her family. But instead, he laughed.

Grinning, he patted her shoulder as if she’d told an excellent joke. Then the sharp pain of his hand striking her cheek brought her back to reality. He had slapped her! Tears welled in her eyes, her lips trembling, but she didn’t have time to cry. The emperor grabbed her face, squeezing her jaw painfully.

"You did drink it, didn't you? That wine they brought you?" Caracalla whispered, his voice low as he leaned closer, still holding her face. "Oh, you did! I can see it. Your dilated pupils, that empty stare, struggling to think straight, hard to control your tongue? I get it," in a mock tender gesture, he caressed the cheek he'd just slapped, "for those words, your pretty head should be on a spike outside the palace, shouldn't it? But you know the rules, if you apologize properly, I forgive."

With his thumb, he drew circles on her reddened cheek, moved to her lips, tracing their outline, forcing her to open her mouth by pressing down.

"You understand now, don’t you? The aphrodisiac in the wine you drank," he pushed his finger inside, making her lips encircle it, "I wanted to play differently, but..." his face twisted with anger, "everything went terribly wrong."

Her already rapid heartbeat quickened further, she whimpered helplessly, wanting to cry. He had made her take the drug and was now exploiting her helplessness, shamelessly tormenting her mouth.

"You should say thank you, shouldn’t you? Or did you enjoy last night more? Shall I call my brother?" he chuckled, once again reverting to his usual self.

Caracalla released her face but immediately pinned her against the altar, tilting his head up and gazing at her from beneath his lowered lashes, as if admiring her, smiling.

The torchlight reflected in his eyes, his tongue flicked between his red lips in anticipation. His hand caressed her shoulder, then he removed the pin holding the fabric.

"Did the old senator fail to notice that his dear little wife isn't really his anymore?" he sneered, his fingers trailing down to the mark he'd bitten into her skin the night before, pressing down, aiming to cause as much discomfort as possible. Caracalla's breath grew heavier, his eyes followed every flicker of emotion on her face, every slight movement she made.

"I told him it was his fault... that he drank too much..." The confession fell from her lips without thought, her mind too clouded to hold it back.

"Ah! How unfortunate, and once again, the Senate takes credit for the emperor's work! But you'll comfort me, won't you?" His lips were so close, she felt his hot, uneven breath, saw his pupils, as black as hers, the smeared shadows making his eyes feverishly gleam with madness. Her gaze only darted down to his lips for a moment... and he pressed against her, pulling her into a kiss.

His hands seize her waist, gripping and tormenting, not just her body but her very soul. If she could cry, she would, but there's no energy left, only his greedy, hot mouth. To her, a kiss was something far more intimate, far more sacred than carnal union, promising tenderness and love...And even that he steals from her, kissing her shamelessly, wetly, pressing so hard she feels his hardness against her thigh.

"Let's continue our lovely conversation," he pulls back, his mouth trailing down to her neck, kissing and biting, "tell me, did Tiberius ever get you this wet?" His hand slides between her legs, rubbing through the fabric. "Even once?"

"No," she whimpers, trying to close her legs.

"Keep acting innocent, and I'll call the Praetorians to keep your legs spread wide, is that what you want?" his rough whisper burns her ear, his earring brushing her lips.

Cassandra shook her head, public humiliation was something she couldn't handle.

"Good. Obedient and well-behaved, just as a respectable matron should be," he purrs, his hand lazily caressing, more relishing her embarrassment than her body, "if you want, you can call me your husband!"

His sharp laugh slices through the narrow room.

"Undress," he commanded, his laughter gone, "I'm not going to fuck you in my mother's clothes, am I?"

She thought after all the pain, the threats, the violence, he couldn't hurt her more, but each time, it still cuts deep. With trembling hands, she hurriedly sheds her tunic, then her undergarments, laying them out as treasures, while he watches. His gaze is fixed, nostrils flaring, Cassandra sees him stroking himself under his tunic. Her cheeks burn, her clouded mind finally grasps it - he's going to take her right here, in this holy place, before ancestors and gods. Her soul will be damned, even in death!

"Touch yourself, feel how wet you are," his voice is husky, breathless, "you should be grateful to me for that, shouldn't you? That's what I've been talking about."

Head bowed, she slides her fingers between her legs, horror dawning as she realizes he's right. But why? The drug? The notion that he aroused her with his aggressive kisses, his sharp bites, his lewd whispers, she dismisses in disgust. She didn't want him, she hated him!

Seeing her shock, Caracalla broke into a smile, fully aware of her thoughts. Abandoning his arousal, the emperor circled her nipple with his thumb, watching it harden under his touch.

"It's not surprising your husband doesn't stir your passions, look at yourself," his hand traces down her body, over her breasts, stomach, to her mound, pausing again between her legs, "you're more his daughter than his wife!"

His fingers gather her moisture, rubbing, making her despise her body's response.

"So, will you take your emperor?" he asks, not for permission but to keep the game going.

She can only nod, there's no other choice.

"Say it out loud," Caracalla whispers raggedly, pushing his fingers deep inside her. Now she understands why he took off his rings.

"Yes, Caesar, I'll take whatever you give me," with those words, the last vestiges of her pride are smashed, her genuine compassion and naivety destroyed.

He takes her with a sudden, harsh thrust, only to slow down to a lazy, almost indulgent rhythm. The air is stifling, hot; sweat drips down her thighs. The only sounds are the crackle of the torch, his ragged breathing, and the vulgar, wet slaps of skin meeting skin.

As if to disgrace her further, he grips the back of her neck, forcing her to look into his eyes as he picks up the pace again. Here he is—the protector and father of his people—bestowing his gifts. He's still clothed, no need to undress; the chain around his neck jingles with each movement, his crown slipping forward.

"Doesn’t this feel good, sweetling? Don’t you feel good?"

"Cassandra," she whispers, "my name is Cassandra."

He stops, looking at her with surprise, as if seeing her for the first time.

"Is it really that important for me to know your name, Cassandra?" he teases, playfully biting her earlobe. "Has the little wife fallen in love?"

How could he think that? Anger surges within her. Her attempt to claim some dignity crumbles! But her thoughts vanish as he thrusts into her sharply, fully, making her gasp and dig her nails into his shoulders. It’s the first time she’s touched him willingly. Her simple gesture spurred him on even more, forcing a quiet whimper from her as she buried her face in his shoulder.

"Next time your senator fucks you, think of me, little bird, understand?" his whisper turns into a moan. She's mesmerized by his parted red lips, his light lashes fluttering, his chest heaving. A few rough thrusts later, his grip on her waist loosens, and his seed floods within her.

He lets her go, adjusting his clothes, his breathing still heavy, but his gaze has changed. Having gotten what he wanted, Caracalla loses interest.

"If you're lucky, my seed will take root, and you'll give your husband an heir!" he chuckles, playfully flicking her nose as if she were a pet. "The wench will help you dress, don't forget, there’s a feast to attend!"

Caracalla leaves her, trembling, bare, and shattered. Tears finally come, and without strength, she slides down the wall, hugging herself. The worst is the sticky feeling between her thighs he left behind. If she were to conceive...

"Domina, you shouldn't sit like this, please stand, I'll help you," the slave girl who brought her here shows no emotion, no trace of sympathy in her eyes.

"Leave me!"

"Staying here is not an option, one must respect the dead," the girl nods at the inscription on the altar.

"Lucius Septimius Severus"

He had defiled her beside his father's ashes! Now, she lets her sobs escape freely.

⋆ ⋆ ☼ ⋆ ⋆

Hey! Thank you so much for the sweet feedback on the last chapter, I didn’t expect so many people to like my work, I’m really grateful! 💋 I promise the next chapter will be up faster (but it also depends on how this one does, your feedback means a lot to me and really inspires me).

#emperor caracalla #caracalla #caracalla x reader #caracalla x oc #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #emperor caracalla x reader #emperor caracalla x oc #gladiator #emperor geta #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta x oc #gladiator 2 smut #gladiator 2 fanfic #caracalla x reader smut #caracalla x oc smut #geta and caracalla #commodus #geta

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kisssukuna33 · 9 hours ago

Text

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who always have you over at his house the night before an important match. It helps with the stress he says.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who always put on a TV show before you two settle into the couch for cuddles. Usually the cuddling session is a mix of him relaxing against you as you ask him questions about the match tomorrow.

"You packed an extra pair of shorts this time right? Remember what happened last time"

"yeah I did"

"Did you iron the clothes?"

"Uraume took care of it"

"That new protein shake your nutritionist recommend, Did you take it?"

"Already did"

"What about the snacks during the game tomorrow? did Uraume-

"oh my god baby relax, it's all taken care of"

He says in somewhat of an annoyed tone as he pulls you even closer to his chest, tightening his grip around you. But deep down he loves it when you are concerned about him like this.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who insists that having a good time before the match tomorrow isn't a problem to him but you reject the offer firmly because you know how Sukuna gets whenever you two started something.

It always ends up dragging for hours so no, your bf needs his beauty sleep for tomorrow.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who pouts slightly when you say no to him but decides to settle with the short make out session instead, better than nothing he thinks.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who teasingly steals few touches from your sensitive areas, clearly trying to rile you up but stops after seeing the glare you gave him.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who never seems to be the type to get much nervous before matches. Because of his Overconfidence? His never ending Ego? maybe. But his ability to stand strong in situations like this always makes your heart flutter.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who always makes sure you get the best VIP seat to his match, You always need to be in the front lines where he can see you from clearly when he beat up his opponent back to his ancestors.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who always find a way to bring you up in the Media press. Sukuna is widely known by the audience for being a down bad "simp" for his girlfriend as well as a complete disaster for his opponents.

"Mr Ryomen, Do you know there's a whole talk in the internet about you being a simp for your girlfriend? What do you have to say to people who spread things like that?"

"Keep spreading the truth I guess. The internet definitely needs it more"

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who hurries back to his changing room and jumps straight into your arms. Despite your constant nagging for him to get patched up first.

"Baby did you saw the jab-cross I threw before he hit the ground?"

"Yeah it was Amazing Ryo!"

"I did good than the last match, didn't I?"

"Yeah you always do"

"Then I deserve way more than that cheap kiss you gave me earlier don't I?"

"Get patched up first you freak, Uraume's waiting"

As he started to shower you turn on the tv with the intention of seeing the live match you saw today in the digital screen. And it immediately cuts to a interview Sukuna did just right after winning.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who lets you both into his house as he holds your waist with one arm. He let go of your waist as he makes his way for the bathroom while murmuring something about showering first.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who seems enthusiastic as ever talking to the reporters about the match he did and the opponent he beat. Not long after he adds a little appreciation from his part.

"My manager Uraume helped me with a lot of stuff so I truly appreciate them. Also my girlfriend stayed up beside me every night when I practiced and supported me in everything, this win is hers as much as it is mine."

"if you're watching this I love you baby"

A warm feeling start to take over your chest as you hear his words. The man who's appreciated and idolized by millions saying these things so casually to you, you still can't get your mind around it.

Then the reporter use his luck to ask a risky question one more time.

"it's look like you two have a great relationship together, what do you think about marriage Mr Ryomen?"

To that question Sukuna doesn't respond but instead returns a well knowing little grin as he waves off the interview.

"Tch why did they ruin the moment by asking that, now it looks like he doesn't want to marry me" you said to yourself.

Just as you were about to leave to the kitchen to grab a snack, something shining inside the closet that Sukuna forgot to shut earlier catches your eyes.

Hidden by the cloth piles it was a little jewelry box that had familiar initials on top of it.

It was none other than yours and Sukuna's.

Wait..

No that can't be, Yeah maybe this is the earrings he wanted to give you before.

But much to your surprise the box opened up to reveal a gorgeous wedding ring. A big diamond you sure costed atleast 5 six figures alone sitting on top of it. Inside the ring you and Sukuna's initials were carved into it making it seem even more special to your eyes.

Your heart is jumping from excitement and happiness, everything about your life is starting to get better and better and you can't help but thank Sukuna for it.

You don't want to ruin the surprise he planned for you of course. So you put the box back to it's place and sit on the bed while he done showering patiently but the stupid smile you had since earlier didn't left your face for once.

"Alright I'm done showering let's slee- what's with you?"

"What's with me? nothing Ryo"

"You're are smiling very creepily woman"

"Ryo that's mean! My smile is not creepy!"

"Yeah whatever come here, freak"

"Ryo?"

Sukuna says as he drags you closer to his side of the bed while turning off the bedside lamp at the same time. Your bodies intertwine with each other like it was always meant to be. Sukuna's hands wrapping around you as he buries his face into your neck.

"hmm"

"I love you"

You can feel a small smile tugging at his lips.

"I love you too princess, more than anything"

Boxing Kuna is my favorite <33

No grammar checks though sorry :/

#ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna #jjk x you #jjk drabbles #sukuna fluff #sukuna x #anime #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fluff #jjk

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devixncy · 2 days ago

Note

could you do a dae ho fic please? Like the reader was a barista he has a crush on but never had the courage to ask out previously to the games. And then once they get into the games he protects her and she reveals she always found him cute as well. Thanks :)

so, i may have gotten carried away while writing this one. pretty sure i typed out wayyy too many unnecessary details oops! (but i can't help it i'm sorry). anyways, i love dae-ho so so much like <3333 such a cutie

✧ pairing: kang dae-ho x fem!reader

✧ summary: dae-ho happened to be a regular at the cafe you worked at as a barista, and you had started to grow feelings for him over time. when you find yourself in the games, he ends up there as well and ultimately saves your life. fearing for your life and the fear of the unknown leads to late night confessions.

✧ content: typical squid game violence, mentions of death, i think that's it. literally just straight fluff

✧ word count: 4.8k

Your life was quiet, but you enjoyed it that way. Being a barista was the perfect job for you, it was relaxing and there was nothing you loved more than interacting with customers, especially the regulars. Unfortunately, while you loved your job, it wasn’t enough. You lived in a cramped apartment that was cozy, but your job just barely covered the rent. On top of that, you couldn’t cover your debt. You were swimming in debt, trying your hardest to help pay for your younger sister's medical bills. She was ill, and constant hospital trips and stays started building up fast. It was just the two of you, your parents having passed a few years prior. You would do anything for your sister, but having the loan sharks breathing down your neck constantly was beginning to drive you insane. You needed more money and fast.

Lost in thought, you absentmindedly drew shapes into the counter with your fingernail. The cafe was quite slow, but with the gloominess and light drizzle outside, it made sense. The bell above the door rang, signaling that someone had entered. Looking up, you immediately began to smile. One of your favorite regulars, Dae-ho, had stepped inside.

His eyes immediately met yours and he smiled at you, making your heart flutter. Dae-ho was the most kind, genuine soul you had ever met. He never failed to light up your day, even just by being in his presence. He truly was a gentleman, most likely thanks to growing up with four sisters.

“Just the usual?” You asked as he walked up to the counter.

“What, no ‘hello Dae-ho, how are you’?” He asked teasingly as you rolled your eyes.

“Hello Dae-ho, how are you?” You feigned annoyance, however you truly did want to know how he was doing. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t developed a crush on the man in front of you. He was incredibly sweet to you (and incredibly handsome), so how could you not fall for him?

“I’m great, (Y/N). And yes, I’ll take my usual.” The grin on his face was contagious, and you smiled, nodding as you began to make his order. He was a man of simple taste, ordering an Americano every time he came in. While you made it (and grabbed him a free pastry), you could hear him ask how you were doing.

“Oh, you know. Same shit different day. Just trying to get by,” You replied as you snapped the lid on his drink. Turning around, you slid it across the counter along with the bagged pastry. Dae-ho furrowed his brows at the sight of the pastry, looking at you questioningly. You shook your head before he could say anything. “Just take it, Dae. It’s on me.”

His cheeks turned a little pink at the sound of the nickname, but he nodded gratefully. He placed his money for the coffee in your hand, your skin tingling as his fingers brushed yours. You took the money and put it in the register, handing him back his change. Of course, he took his change and put it in your tip jar.

Before he picked up his items, he looked at you as you leaned on the counter. Your eyes were so full of life, the smile on your lips making his heart thud. But he could see the exhaustion in your face, no matter how hard you tried to hide it. Without thinking, he leaned over and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His fingers brushed against your jaw gently. Eyes wide, you looked at him, cheeks starting to burn. He smiled softly, dropping his hand and picking up his coffee and pastry.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” He asked, even though he knew your work schedule like the back of his hand. You nodded, still dazed, as he chuckled and walked off with a small wave.

Once outside the shop, he cursed to himself. Oh, how he wishes he were bold enough to ask you out. Every time he thought he could do it, he backed out, fearing rejection. He didn’t want to mess up the friendship the two of you had. One day, he promised himself.

— Once you had closed up shop for the day, you locked the doors to the café and headed towards the subway.

You sat down on a bench, placing your bag directly next to you. While you waited, you stared at the ground in front of you as you absentmindedly picked at your cuticles. When you weren’t working and keeping yourself distracted, the stress started to take over.

Your body tensed as someone sat next to you. Turning your head, you saw a man dressed in a nice suit, a briefcase by his side. Sighing, you scooted away a little bit more. “Whatever you’re selling, I’m definitely not interested.”

“I’m not selling anything. In fact, I would like to let you in on a great opportunity. Would you like to play a game with me?”

You frowned, confusion evident on your face. A game? Seriously? Turning towards him, you studied him for a moment. Something about this man was off putting. As you were about to open your mouth to decline his offer, he opened up a briefcase. The words died on your tongue as you saw the stacks of money.

“I’m sure you’ve played ddakji before, yes?” He asked as he picked up the red and blue squares. You nodded slowly. “Play a few games with me. And each time you win, I’ll pay you a 100,000 won.”

You stared at the money as you pondered. You needed this. A couple games of ddakji couldn’t hurt, right?

And you played. You had won most of the rounds, earning a couple of slaps in the face when you didn’t. By the time the game was over, you had accumulated a decent amount of money. Of course, not nearly enough to cover what you needed it for. As you sat there counting the money, the salesman began to speak.

“You know, miss. There are more games like this where you can win even more.”

You paused, looking up at him. It sounded too good to be true. As you were going to decline, he began to list all of your personal information. He knew your name, your occupation, the amount of debt you had accumulated. Your mouth dropped, unable to get a word out. He smiled smugly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a card. He handed it to you, and you snatched it.

“We don’t have many spots left.”

Those words resonated with you as you sat in your apartment. Taking a deep breath, you called the number on the back of the card.

“Do you wish to participate in the game? If you wish to participate, please state your name and birthdate.”

Next thing you knew, you were standing on a street corner in the dark. You rocked back and forth on your heels anxiously as you waited. Soon enough, a car pulled up next to you, rolling down the window. A masked person donning a pink suit turned his head in your direction.

“Ms. (Full name)?”

You nodded, following up with the password they had given you over the phone. The back door slid open and you climbed in, noticing the other people in the seats who were seemingly asleep. You shook off the uneasiness, trying to get comfortable in the seat. Seconds later, steam began to fill the car, making you cough. And then the world went dark.

When you awoke, your brain felt fogged and you were incredibly groggy. You screwed your eyes shut as the overhead lights threatened to blind you. Classical music filled your ears, and you groaned as you sat up. Opening your eyes, you scanned your surroundings. Numerous people were getting out of their beds, all wearing the same green tracksuit with numbers plastered on the back. Quickly looking down, you saw that you wore the same thing. Then you noticed your number in bold white, 301. You got out of the bed, making your way down the stairs the same way everyone else was. As you were taking it all in, the doors at the front of the room underneath the screen opened. Multiple masked figures stepped out, walking forward. The one in the front began speaking.

“I would like to extend a hearty welcome to all of you. Everyone here will participate in six games over the course of six days. Those who win will receive a handsome cash prize.”

Players began to speak up. All made good points, and you agreed that you all being basically kidnapped and the masked guards were a little strange.

Then, you gasped as multiple players were shown on screen playing the game of ddakji, announcing their names and how much debt they were in. Thankfully, your name didn’t come up.

When it came time, you got in line and signed the consent form. You didn’t bother reading it, you were just here to play some games after all. You were sure it was just some dumb fine print that didn’t really mean anything.

Soon enough, yourself and all of the other players filed into a multi-colored room. There were stairs leading up, and as you looked around you noticed multiple guards stationed in different spots. Shaking off your unease, you stepped up to the photo booth and turned to face the camera. Upon hearing the ‘smile!’, you mustered up a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“The first game will begin momentarily. After having your picture taken, follow the staff’s instructions and proceed to the game site.”

You followed behind the other players up the stairs, coming up to a large door where everyone was filing into.

“Welcome to the first game. All players, please wait a moment on the field.”

You entered the large clearing in front of you, squinting as the sunlight hit your eyes. As your eyes adjusted, you looked around at the four large walls and the comically large doll with the tree directly ahead. There were two guards standing on either side of it.

Suddenly, the three large doors slammed shut behind you with a loud clank. You gasped and turned around, as did many others.

“The first game is Red Light, Green Light. Cross the finish line without getting caught in five minutes. If you do, you pass.”

Suddenly, someone pushed past you to get to the front of the group. He seemed frantic, turning towards everyone.

“Everyone!” he shouted, waving his arms in the air. He had your full attention now. “Everyone listen up, pay attention!”

“This is not just a game! If you lose the game, you die!”

Your breath caught in your throat. There’s no way he was serious, right? How could you possibly die playing a children’s game? Others seemed to think the same thing, as someone asked him what the hell he was talking about. “We’re going to die playing Red Light, Green Light?” someone asked with a scoff.

“Yes, that’s right! If they catch you moving, they will kill you! They will shoot you from somewhere! Stay on your toes. That doll’s eyes are motion detectors!”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, no one seeming to take his word for it. Many were voicing their thoughts that this was just some ploy to get all of the money for himself.

“You have to believe me!” His voice was laced with desperation. As he finished his sentence, the doll began to whir to life, turning to face the tree. Its arm raised up, placed against the tree. The man, player 456, whirled around, panic evident in his movements.

“Do not be alarmed or panic! No matter what happens, do not panic and start running!”

Your heart began to hammer in your chest. Something in your gut told you to believe him. He seemed way too genuine to be making this all up.

“Let the game begin.”

The timer across the room flickered to life, displaying a red five minute timer.

Mugunghwa Kkoch-i Pieossseubnida

You began to move forward, freezing as the doll whirled back around and player 456 held up his hands. “Freeze!” He yelled out. Everyone stayed as still as a statue.

“Well done! You just need to stay calm like this!”

Once the doll turned again, you started to run forward, freezing again moments later. The doll's head turned, its eyes calculating everyone’s movement. Player 456 continued to yell out instructions, and so far everyone seemed to be listening despite calling him crazy.

Mugunghwa Kkoch-i Pieossseubnida

You began to run forward again, stopping dead in your tracks along with everyone else. This continued successfully for a couple of cycles. For a moment though, while you were all paused, someone began to scream. Yourself and many others side eyed the girl in shock.

“Crap. I just moved.” And with that, moments later, a gunshot rang out. Your eyes widened, unmoving, but terrified.

“NOBODY MOVE!! You must not move!” Player 456 shouted frantically, not wanting panic to ensue. Unfortunately, it was far too late for that. Multiple gunshots began to follow the first, people dropping around you left and right. Blood began to cover the field. It seemed non-stop. Your body began to tremble, feeling nauseous as the chaos unfolded around you. Player 456 was screaming at this point, trying to save everyone that he could.

“Let me repeat. You can move forward while the tagger shouts ‘Green light, red light’. If your movement is detected afterward, you will be eliminated.”

After the announcement, the game resumed. This time, nobody dared to move from their spot. Once the green light was given again, the only person to move was player 456. And then again, he was the only one to move. Everybody was glued to their spot, too terrified to move. He began to shout instructions again, telling everyone to get behind someone bigger than you. That’s exactly what you did at the next cycle, getting behind players 120 and 124. You stayed close behind as they moved forward, trying to make sure your movement was minimal. This continued until you were almost at the finish line.

“LETS GO!” Player 456 screamed, everyone beginning to push forward as fast as they could. You did the exact same, until your foot slipped as you were trying to come to a stop. Fear coursed through your body as the ground got closer, the doll about to turn around. Everything was moving in slow motion. This was it, this was how you were going to die. Your eyes screwed shut, waiting for the impact from the ground and the bullet. Suddenly, though, you weren’t moving anymore. The back of your jacket was held tightly by somebody behind you, right as the doll said red light and turned. Your eyes flew open in shock, not daring to move a muscle. It was the longest moment of your entire life, praying whoever had their grip on your jacket didn’t lose it. As soon as the doll turned back around, whoever was behind you instantly pulled you back up. Your arm was grabbed and you were hastily pulled towards the red line, being shoved over it as the doll said red light. You stumbled and fell to your hands and knees, wheezing as you tried to catch your breath. Then you paused, whipping around to see who it was.

And there he was, standing mere inches from the finish line. You stared at him, mouth agape. Dae-ho was standing right in front of you, the number 388 plastered to his jacket. Your heart thudded in your chest, your ears ringing. You couldn’t even process it, that he was in this mess just like you were. Moments later, he crossed the line, running straight to you. He crouched down next to you, gripping your face in his hands like he was making sure you were real. Your lips parted, but words refused to come out. He had just saved your life and there you sat trembling like a leaf, not even able to muster a ‘thank you’. However, he didn’t say anything either. His eyes said it all. He was completely terrified.

“Dae-ho…” You whispered, your voice shaking. Before he could respond, everyone’s heads shot up towards the sky. A retractable roof was closing over the top of the arena, closing you all in like animals in a cage.

Before he could say anything, you were all being herded back to the main room. The guards gave you no time to process anything, forcing you to get moving. Dae-ho stayed right next to you, a gentle grip on your upper arm. The atmosphere entering back into the main room was dark, the obscene amount of death and bloodshed looming over everyone’s head like a dark cloud. You sat next to Dae-ho, silent as a mouse. Everyone was silent. What could possibly be said after what you had all just witnessed? Your gaze bore into the ground in front of you, knees tucked into your chest with your arms wrapped around them. Dae-ho was lost in thought, his side pressed up against yours. The touch kept you somewhat grounded, though just barely.

Suddenly, the bright overhead lights flickered to life and the door opened. Everyone's attention turned towards the guards that stepped into the room. Upon seeing them, everybody scrambled back further, clearly terrified. You were no exception, pushing yourself backwards up the stairs behind you. Dae-ho did the same, a protective grip around your body.

“Congratulations for making it through the first game. Here are the results from the first game.” The board above them began to change, the number 456 changing to 365.

More chaos began to ensue. People begging for their lives, the promise of a fair voting process. The voting process was anything but smooth, tensions beginning to rise between the players. You chose X with no hesitation. While you needed the money, you had to be there for your sister. You couldn’t help her, the only family she had left, if you were dead. Dae-ho had voted X as well, much to your relief. Unfortunately, your relief was short lived, as you lost the vote to leave by one. You were devastated, wanting nothing more than to curl up and cry. Showing weakness may not be the greatest idea, though. Not in a place like this.

Once it was meal time, you sat on the stairs with your tin of food in one hand and water bottle in the other. You had zero appetite. Dae-ho, who was sitting next to you, wasted no time in digging into his. You turned your head towards him and he paused.

“What?” He asked halfway through shoveling food into his mouth. You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “You need to eat something too, (Y/N). You can’t let yourself go hungry, gotta retain your strength. Here,” He said, scooping some of his onto his spoon and putting it up to your mouth. Your lips tightened into a thin line, silently refusing. He frowned. “I’m serious-”

“What are you even doing here, Dae-ho?” You cut him off, turning towards him a little more. He swallowed, frown still on his face.

“I could ask you the same thing.” His tone was completely serious now, setting his tin down next to him. You set yours down as well, refusing to meet his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter. We’re both in this mess, and now we both have to somehow make it out alive.” You hoped you didn’t come off as hopeless as you felt. Dae-ho decided not to press any further. He nodded in agreement. There was nothing the two of you could do about it now.

“We’re going to get out of here, you and I. Together. I swear to you,” He grabbed your hands in his, running his thumb across your knuckles. That was his typical positive attitude coming out. You sighed, finally meeting his eyes. “Now come on. I was serious before, you need to at least try to eat.” He said, his usual grin returning to his face. You couldn’t help it, your lips twitched up into a smile. If it were possible, his smile got even wider, gently pinching your cheek with his fingers. “Aha! There’s that smile that I know and love.”

You rolled your eyes, giving him a light shove. He laughed, and you gave in, picking up your tin. You ate in small bites, finally realizing how hungry you truly were. Dae-ho resumed eating, scarfing his down before you were even a third of the way done with yours. He patiently waited until you were finished with yours, taking your tin from you and setting it aside.

After meal time, you and Dae-ho had begun conversing with player 456 and player 399 who were nearby. As it turns out, player 399 whose name you found out to be Jung-bae, was a former marine just like Dae-ho. They saluted each other, their interactions causing you to giggle, letting some of the tension leave your body. Dae-ho’s eyes lit up at the sound, warmth spreading through his body. The rest of the night went as smoothly as it could save for the scuffle that occurred between players 230, 124, 333 and 001.

Then, it was time for lights out. Most players were fast asleep, but you laid in your bed, staring up at the glowing piggy bank. Alone with your thoughts, your mind was racing. There was no way you could sleep. Your head was pounding and you sighed as you turned onto your side. Lucky for you, Dae-ho’s bed was right next to yours. Realistically, he had claimed it as soon as he saw it was empty, assuming the person who was there previously was eliminated. From what you could tell, he was fast asleep. However you really needed some company and reassurance at the moment.

“Dae,” You whispered. He didn’t budge. Of course, you thought as you rolled your eyes. He would be a heavy sleeper. “Dae-ho!” You whisper-shouted, hoping you didn’t have to say it again. Thankfully, you saw him starting to stir. His eyes fluttered open, opening completely as he realized it was you who had awoken him. Quickly, he sat up.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” He whispered, concern gracing his features. You shook your head, starting to feel a little silly for waking him.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have woken you up. You can go back to sleep.” You whispered back, realizing he was probably exhausted.

He shook his head, getting up from his bed and coming over to yours. He knelt down next to you, tucking your hair behind your ear. You felt pitiful.

“Will you lay with me?” Your voice came out as barely a whisper, but he heard you loud and clear. His heart skipped a beat, a soft smile spreading across his face.

“Of course, love. Scoot over.”

You blushed at the nickname but immediately moved over to make room for him. Without hesitation, he hopped into your bed, laying on his side so that he was facing you. He cupped your face gently, running his thumb over your cheekbone. You didn’t say anything, but he read you like a book. “What’s wrong?”

You could feel a lump forming at the back of your throat, and you stared into his eyes. Truth be told, you were so terrified. This was a fear you had never felt before in your life. If it wasn’t for the man next to you, you wouldn’t even be alive. How did you go from casually flirting with each other in the coffee shop, not a care in the world, to arriving at death’s door together? Tears burned at the back of your eyes, threatening to come to the surface.

“I’m scared, Dae-ho. I’m so scared,” Your voice cracked, tears spilling over your eyes slowly. Dae-ho was quick to wipe them away, his heart breaking. “I just wanted to save my sister. I thought that if I joined the games and won some money, I could take the stress off of both of us. I wouldn’t have to worry about the medical bills, or the loan sharks, or anything. I would be able to work without having the weight of the world on my shoulders, and it would just be us in the cafe, and nothing else would matter. You and my sister were the only things keeping me going, and now you and I are both here and one or both of us could die.” You cried quietly as Dae-ho looked at you sadly. He pulled you into his chest, shushing you as you wept into his shirt. He let you cry it out, not saying anything as he rubbed your back. Eventually, when you became silent, he pulled back so he could look at your face. Your eyes were red, cheeks tear streaked.

“(Y/N), listen to me. As long as we’re in here together, I won’t let anything happen to you. Truly, you’re the light of my life and if something happened to you I don’t think I could forgive myself. You’re my anchor, especially in a place like this. I have something here to keep me going, you know?” He murmured. You sniffled and nodded, but he kept going. “The moment I saw you in that cafe I knew I was in trouble. I thought you were the most perfect thing to grace this earth, and if I wasn’t so stupid, I would’ve asked you out a long time ago.”

Your eyes widened at that, looking at him as he smiled at you. “You really mean that?” Your pulse quickened at the confession.

“Every word,” He chuckled as he drew shapes into the fabric of your jacket. “This is gonna be awkward for me if you don’t feel the same.” At that, you gave him a light shove and he laughed.

“Of course I feel the same, you idiot. Why do you think you were getting so many free pastries?” You joked, then became serious. “Seriously though, Dae-ho. I couldn’t imagine my life without you in it. I wish you would’ve asked me out a long time ago, I’ve had a giant crush on you for a while now. I thought it was obvious.”

“It was obvious,” you rolled your eyes at that. “I was just too scared to do something about it. I didn’t wanna mess anything up between us. And now here we are, in the worst possible situation, and I’m finally confessing this to you.” He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes as he thought about the circumstances. “How about when we get out of here, I take you out on a date, yeah? We’ll go somewhere nice with my share of the money.”

“It doesn’t have to be fancy, Dae-ho. As long as I’m with you it doesn’t matter,” You said sincerely, a small smile gracing your lips. “But I would love to.”

He grinned at that, his entire face lighting up. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You grabbed one of his hands and he gave it a gentle squeeze. To his surprise, you craned your neck up and placed your lips directly onto his. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you could feel him smile against your lips as he moved his free hand to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. He pulled away after a few moments, before leaning back down and placing another quick peck to your lips.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for that.” He teased, excitement present in his voice. You giggled, feeling over the moon with happiness even if it was just for a moment. Dae-ho shifted to lay flat on his back, pulling you with him. Your head rested on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He had his arm around you and you threw your leg over the top of his, making yourself comfortable

“Thank you for saving my life earlier.” You spoke quietly as you wrapped your arm around him, soothed by the rise and fall of his chest. He was quiet for a moment.

“I would do it all over again. I’m not leaving your side so long as we’re still playing these games.”

Those were the only words you needed to hear, shutting your eyes as you finally drifted off into a peaceful slumber as you could feel him pull the blanket over the two of you. For the first time in a while, your body felt at ease. You felt safe, like there was nothing in the world that could harm you. Even if it was just for the night.

#squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game x reader #kang dae ho #kang dae ho x reader #dae ho x reader #player 388 #player 388 x reader

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writhyv · 22 hours ago

Text

⋆｡°✩ jake pulls you into a kissing booth

would you kiss me? | sim jaehyun x male!reader

pairing: jake x male!reader genre: fluff words: 1.8k notes: my first jake fic! honestly wanted to write about him for a long time because he's one of the first guys i saw from enha ... he just has that hot popular kid vibe ... i HAD to make this ... AAAAA ALSO SHOUOUT TO @kaiyunsim! THIS ONE'S FOR YA BRUH

Your days at school began like any other student's. Each day was a repetitive cycle of subjects you had to endure until the semester ended. You had memorized these lessons long ago, yet still found yourself sitting in class, trying to absorb the material. It was exhausting, but deep down, you loved the thrill of academics. School was a place of peace for you, a welcome escape from home, which felt far away. It was a place you cherished, filled with the laughter of friends and the buzz of youthful dreams.

However, if you could choose to be anywhere else, it certainly wouldn't be your school, especially not during the school's founding celebration fair. To make matters worse, your friend had signed you up to help out at your class's assigned booth — the kissing booth.

You rested your head against your hand, manning the busy booth with an aloof gaze. It wasn't that you disliked helping; it was just that you hadn’t volunteered for this. You watched the chaos unfold around you, the energy of the fair buzzing like a live wire. Everywhere you looked, students were laughing, playing games, and enjoying the festivities. But here you were, stationed at the kissing booth, a reluctant participant in this social spectacle.

"Thanks again for helping out!" a classmate chimed in, trying to lift your spirits. His bright smile was infectious, but you only managed a half-hearted nod.

"Ugh... it’s not like I had a choice. Joey signed me up before I could protest," you replied, rolling your eyes.

"Joey did? She's a riot!" your classmate laughed nervously, glancing at you. Your glare silenced him. "Oh! I mean... she's just so... um, enthusiastic, right?"

"It’s for fun!" Joey interjected, crashing into the conversation, her energy palpable. The other student bolted away as if he had just seen a ghost.

"Aren't you allowed to have fun, Mr. President?" Joey turned her gaze to you as she held her hands onto your shoulders.

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. Making friends in high school was challenging enough, but when people clung to you like they were your lifeline, things got complicated. Joey had always stuck to you like glue. As you grew to tolerate her presence, she introduced you to 'normal high school things'—experiences you had only read about in books or seen in movies. You felt like you could only refuse her so many times before she'd throw a tantrum.

"Again, it's ACTING president. I've only been called that since the new semester started, okay?" you corrected her, a hint of frustration creeping into your voice.

"Yeah, right. You'll definitely win again if you ever run. It’s your calling!" she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"That’s why I can't be here," you said, standing up, feeling the weight of tiredness settling on your shoulders.

Joey grabbed your arm, pulling you back down. You knew this would happen, but it never hurt to try and escape, right?

"Hey! Not again!" she sighed, exasperated. "You've only been here for two hours! I promised you food, right? Just help out at the booth."

You shot her a glare but couldn't keep the corners of your mouth from twitching upward. "Fine, but I can’t promise I won’t try to escape again. It’s exhausting watching people come in and out of this booth."

Joey looked where you pointed, a smirk growing on her face. "Why? Curious about what happens there?"

You shot her an incredulous look, but she only saw the red flush creeping across your cheeks.

"What?" she defended, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Ding ding ding?"

"No one’s interested!" you exclaimed, covering your face in embarrassment. Joey just laughed, the sound ringing like music in the chaos around you.

"Sure! It isn’t a big deal. Not at all~" she sang, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit of warmth at her playful attitude.

As you chatted with Joey, a commotion erupted nearby, followed by a wave of cheers.

"Aahh! It's the soccer team!"

"The boys! The boys!"

The crowd erupted as the campus soccer team made their entrance, radiating an undeniable charm. With their impressive recent state champion title win for the nth time, and their unrealistic and striking looks, they were the stars of the event. You could see the excitement in the air, students gushing over their favorite players, the thrill of being close to someone so admired.

One of them, clearly the leader, locked eyes with you and bit his lip. "Hey~" he called out, confidence radiating like a warm sun on a cold day, having brushed his hair back, a gesture that seemed to send the crowd into a frenzy.

You blinked, looking to your side. "Uh... who are you talking to?" You felt your heart race, unsure if he was really addressing you. "Me?"

The guy grinned, stepping closer, and you could feel the heat radiating from him. "Oh definitely. You're really adorable up close, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, convinced this must be one of those pranks online. But he didn’t back down; instead, he moved closer to your ticket table, his presence both thrilling and intimidating.

"Ahem ... To purchase a ticket for the booth, please ensure you have your partner with you. All pairs come first," you stated, reading the fine print from the paper in your hands, trying to maintain your composure.

"Good then." He flashed you his ID. "Jake Sim."

"Jake Sim," you repeated, scribbling his name down. "Who would you be taking to the kissing booth?"

You looked behind him as his members stood still. "One of them?" You snickered.

"Kissing booth?" Jake's eyes widened in surprise, who seemingly haven't heard you talk for that second. "This isn't just a regular dating booth?"

You sighed, feeling an exasperated laugh bubble up. Of course, it isn't. The dating booth idea was scrapped due to budget constraints, leaving this more intimate alternative. There wasn't anything you can do at that point, even though you were the council's ACTING president.

"Yes."

"Shoot..." Jake checked his breath, a sudden look of concern washing over his face. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his sudden panic.

You laughed lightly. "Mint?"

He shot you a look, as if to say don’t look at me right now.

"Huh? I'm good!" he declared, spraying some fresh mist into his mouth. "See? Nothing happened." he smirked, spreading his arms wide, clearly trying to charm you.

"I still can't give you a ticket," you replied firmly, crossing your arms.

"Why?" he pressed, a playful challenge in his eyes.

"You have no partner—"

"I can take you with me, can't I?" he cut in, blunt and straightforward, his eagerness palpable.

It felt as if time had frozen. He looked at you with eager anticipation, and you could only respond with confusion, your heart fluttering unexpectedly.

"Me?" you stammered, flustered. "You can't possibly think of me as—"

Suddenly, you heard a whirlwind of chaos behind you, like a storm brewing in your booth.

"Two dollars, and he's yours!" Joey shouted, tossing you toward Jake with a mischievous grin.

"That's more like it!" Jake said, handing over the bills to Joey and waving goodbye as he led you toward the booth.

"Thank you for the donation!" Joey called after you, her voice fading as you felt your heart racing faster than ever.

"Two dollars?!" you exclaimed, shooting a death glare at Joey, who simply smiled and waved goodbye, leaving you feeling wronged yet slightly amused.

"Trust me! You’re worth more than that!" she whispered dramatically, retreating into the crowd.

You felt your blood boil at the suddenness of it all, yet something else stopped you in your tracks. It was as if time had paused again, leaving only the two of you in this moment filled with tension and unspoken words.

"This is ridiculous," you mumbled, avoiding Jake's gaze. Beads of sweat trickled down your forehead, and you wiped them away with your hands, feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping up.

Jake laughed, drawing closer, his presence overwhelming and oddly comforting.

"What?" You looked at him.

"I'm just trying to understand why you don’t want me kissing you," he said with that playful grin that made your heart skip a beat. "I mean, everybody wants a piece of me."

So bold?! You rolled your eyes at his audacity. "What an airhead you are..."

Airhead? I thought people liked confident guys. Jake pondered, trying to maintain his charming facade.

"Heh. Am I an airhead?" he scoffed, a playful smirk on his face. "Isn’t it just because I know what I like?"

"Ugh." You mimicked your friend's signature sassy move. "Do NOT tell me that."

Am I already screwing this up? Jake’s mind raced, unable to keep up with his facade crumbling under the pressure.

"Can’t we just enjoy this moment between us, babe?" Jake said, leaning in and pressing his hands beside your head. Your eyes widened in shock, and you felt your heart hammering in your chest.

That's it, look flustered… please? Jake thought desperately, a hint of vulnerability breaking through his bravado.

You stared at him, disbelief washing over you. He was already making a move with something as cringeworthy as this? And calling you by such a boring pet name? You couldn't even imagine the other ridiculous things he might do. Maybe he would—

KISS YOU?! In a blink, his lips met yours, soft as a cloud brushing against your skin.

In that instant, something snapped within you. You tried to push him away, but he only deepened the kiss, and you felt something strange sliding between your mouths.

"Hey!" you exclaimed, trying to pull away.

"What—"

"A tongue?!" you gasped, staring at him, bewildered. Jake chuckled, clearly enjoying your reaction, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"What? I’m not doing anything," he smirked, knowing full well what he was doing.

"You snuck that devilish tip of your tongue into my mouth!" you accused, covering your face as heat rushed to your cheeks, embarrassment flooding your senses.

"Oh come on, you liked it," Jake teased, his confidence unwavering.

Did you? He wondered, feeling a mix of hope and doubt.

"That’s it! You had your time!" you declared, storming away, embarrassed and flustered. "Enjoy, then get lost!"

As you walked away, you shot one last glance over your shoulder, throwing out something Jake never thought he’d hear directed at him.

"Weirdo..." you muttered, shaking your head in disbelief, a mixture of confusion and exhilaration swirling inside you.

Jake stood there, feeling like a lost puppy searching for its owner. The thrill of the kiss lingered on his lips, but the sting of embarrassment washed over him.

Somewhere on campus, you could almost hear his loud screams of agony.

His friends rushed over, concern etched on their faces. "Hey, Jake!" a couple of teammates called, finding their captain lying on the ground, kicking his feet in shame.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!" Jake screamed again, all his efforts feeling wasted, his face buried in his hands as if he could hide from the world.

"Oh my god, he’s breaking down..." Joey remarked, stepping into the booth. She quickly closed the curtains, glancing at the curious onlookers, knowing too well the rumors that would fly around.

"Shh! People will get the wrong idea about our booth! This is NOT a screamo booth; the main stage is down by the garden pavilion."

Jake grabbed one of his larger teammates, his eyes wide with despair. "He looked at me like I was DIRTY!!!" he cried, trying to wipe away his tears, but failing miserably.

"Are you ... crying?!" Joey exclaimed, her eyes wide in disbelief.

"Yes, I’m crying!" Jake declared, wiping his face in a panic, his emotions spilling over.

"Captain, your image—"

"Who cares!" Jake slumped back down, defeated. "He probably thinks I’m a loser at this point... What gives?"

A heavy silence blanketed the booth, the weight of the moment pressing down on him.

"It’s not like it’s the last chance you’ll ever get, you know cap?" one teammate said, trying to console him, though the words felt hollow in the air.

"But..." Jake murmured, his confidence wavering.

Another teammate stood up, raising his fist in determination. "You’re Jake Sim, our all-powerful soccer team captain! You can do anything!"

Jake slowly lifted his gaze, intrigued by their words, the fire within him beginning to reignite.

"And you can make up for it!" his teammates urged. "Then you’ll get that chance!"

He considered his situation. If he could somehow make up for what he did with you, it would earn him some serious brownie points, right? Maybe then he'd finally get the chance to ask you out.

"Okay!" Jake declared, standing tall and raising his fist triumphantly. "I’ll try better this time!"

"That’s the spirit, Captain Jake!" his teammates cheered, ending with a loud burst of laughter, their camaraderie lifting his spirits.

"Ugh... you guys are hopeless." Joey facepalmed, shaking her head in disbelief as she tried to suppress a smile. "Whatever... that’s not my business..."

As the fair continued around them, Jake felt a newfound determination swell within him. He couldn't let this moment define him; he had to make things right. With a deep breath, he plotted his next move, ready to win you over, one awkward attempt at a time.

I really wanted to make Jake someone who tries too hard to get someone's attention, only making himself a pitiful sack of potatoes by the end of the ordeal. DONT WORRY he should be able to get the guy right ...right?!

hope you guys enjoyed it! please like, comment, or reblog~

my masterlist!

made by writhyv.

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syluriar · 14 hours ago

Text

vunerable - sylus x mc!reader

sypnosis: sylus has never been one to give up control, so you try and help him.

a/n: inspired by @yes-no-maybe-soo i legit just read your sylus hc's today and my brain scrambles to write this because althoug i love sylus bing a sub, you made some excellent points of it being hard for him to give up control because of what he went through in his past life (still haven't recovered, anyone else?).

contains: sylus being scared to give up control and not liking these feelings, mc (you) being so gentle with him. there's a slight mention of attmepted murder from sylus' enemies in the past. sylus crying (of that ever happens in game i swear to god-). angst & comfort.

word count: 1381

you straddle him with your hands resting at his hips, his chest is bare that allows you to see his breathing clearer. he's watching you with those ruby eyes you love so much, but you can see a bit of fear in them, unsurprising at the vulnerable position he's in.

it was your idea to do this, to give him the attention he gives you - the warmth, safety and consent. he knows you would never hurt him, but the image of losing all his control reminds him of his past life, as the dragon who has been beaten and chained for thousands of years. when the past you finally freed him he was determined to take control of his life, to never go back to the scared dragon.

he adores you, and you know that, he would do anything for you...but to give up all control, even if it is just you who takes it away...fear creeps back into him.

you lift a hand and reach up to caress his cheek which he immediately nuzzles into to, and he kisses the palm before releasing a sigh,

"it's only me," your voice is so soft, just louder than a whisper, like it was coaxing an animal out of it's shelter. you lean up and cup his face, thumbs brushing against his cheeks. "i'm the only one that's here."

you take one on your hands to gently run through his hair, an action that has him close his eyes to enjoy the feeling, and it makes your heart swell. "we can stop anytime you like, ok?"

a hum comes from his lips as he opens his eyes, and you see that small amount of fear has been replaced by something else.

he hates that you have to him like this, like he's weak, like he's a scared child who needs comforting - he doesn't like that he's showing this side to you, because how can you depend on him if he doesn't stay strong in front of you?

you kiss his forehead and you can feel some of the tension leave his body. a part of you wants to do this fats, you show sylus that yes of course, he can be like this with you, there's no shame and it and you'll always ben there for him , but you need to take it slow. you will show him all these things by listening to him, both words and body. you don't care how long it will take, because it's what he deserves.

you start to leave kisses all over his face, his cheeks, nose, even his chin that makes a small amused huff leave his lips. you're still gentle when you finally place your lips over his own, his hands coming to hold your waist. at any other moment it would be intense, fingers digging into clothing as your tongues fight each other.

but right now it's soft, like a perfect fluffy cushion you relax in. sylus groans at your mouth and you feel good knowing he does too. you see it in his eyes when you pull away, and the slight pink on his cheeks and the tip of his ears.

you giggle. "do you know how cute you look when you blush?"

he sucks in a breath, clearly surprised by your compliment. "cute?" he looks almost amused. "that not a word people associate with me."

"well they don't know you like i do." you give his lips a quick peck to his lips before your hands descend lower to his shoulders, a lot looser than before. "i kinda like it that way."

"and you call me possessive." he chuckles. the air around you two has become easier, the tension slowly fading away.

for some reason your eyes go to his neck, such a strong thing that often aches because of how much he has to look down at you. you move your hands towards his neck, his sharp intake making you freeze.

"oh..." how could you forget a lot of his enemies go for his neck? a common way to end someones life. you felt stupid. "sorry...i was going to massage it. it aches because of how much you have look down on me, doesn't it?"

he doesn't answer you, his eyes cast aside as he continues to breath heavily. your heart aches at the sight and you retract your hands, placing one back on his cheek. "hey, remember, your still in control. stay stop and i will."

his breath shudders and his shoulders tense up once more, his hands now gripping your waist. he sucks through gritted teeth and turns his head away, as if he was ashamed of himself.

your heart sings with distress at the sight and you want to feel anger of the people that have made sylus this way, but what good will that do here?

sylus…” you lean your head to meet him and see something shine from his eyes, falling down his cheek.

a tear.

“oh…” you couldn’t hold back at your reach to brush it away, but when your skin makes contact he flinches, and it makes you want to cry yourself. “it’s me, my love. only me. i’m here.” you brush the tear away, fingers gently thumbing in his cheek to help calm him.

a strangled noise comes from his throat. “i don’t…i didn’t want you to see me like this…” his voice is in a tone you’ve never heard before, one of pain and distress.

“like what?” you reply softly.

he doesn’t answer straight away and you wait patiently, rubbing soothing circles on his shoulders like he had done to yours in times like this.

“like i am weak, scared…vulnerable.”

you swallow the lump in your throat at his words, each piercing you harshly through the heart. “sylus…there’s nothing with you feeling any of those things.”

“i need to be strong for you.”

“do the strong always require to be strong?”

repeating his own words to him hit him like bricks, his eyes widening and lips parted in shock. ever so gently you cradle his face, his eyes still looking away from you. “wasn’t it you who said that?”

“...it’s not the same.”

“how isn’t it?” you ask, but he doesn’t reply, so you keep talking. “i don’t need you to be strong for me sylus. don’t you think there’s a strongness in being those things? weak, scared and vulnerable?...to me there is.”

your words make him finally look at you, his eyes still holding surprise. “...there is?”

you nod. “even plants and animals have those types of feelings, so you having them is normal. showing them to me is…letting yourself be loved by me even more than you do now. it shows that you trust me to see you this way, and trust me that i won’t turn you away.”

you lean forward and turn his face to you before grabbing one of his hands and placing it on your chest, your heart beating loudly underneath. “trust me that i will always be patient with you, that i will never rush you and listen to what you say,”

you grab his other hand and bring it to your lips, softly kissing his knuckles and palm before placing it over your cheek. “and trust me that i will always love you, no matter what.”

he hears your love, your utter devotion to him that makes his heart sing. he stares at you with such loving eyes one might say they never knew it existed, but it’s right here, right in this room and in each other's arms.

he kisses you with such intensity, with such love that it almost makes you fall. with your hands on his shoulders you meet his passion, his devotion, his affection and so much more. he cradles your face as your lips part, heavy breaths falling from both.

“i love you too, my beloved, so so much.”

he holds you tightly with his head buried in your neck, your arms around his neck and brushing through his hair.

you don’t care how many times this needs to happen, to assure him of your love and devotion, of your patient and his consent.

because you will never, ever hurt him - he deserves better.

#mine #my writing #love and deepspace #sylus #sylus x mc #sylus x reader #have sylus crying *YEET*#there is comfort so don't worry #idk how to feel now...

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rhiannonsknife · 18 hours ago

Note

could I put in a request for Lucy MacLean x Wasteland!reader? you both find shelter and you usually take first watch because you’re used to staying up late. Except Lucy has a habit of making your job harder than it has to be because she just starts yapping and won’t go to sleep right away. Take yesterday night for example, you underestimated her ability to run out of things to talk to you about and you lost about 2-3 hours of sleep because of it. Tonight, Lucy’s about 15 minutes into her yap session when you randomly ask her if she wants to have sex, she’s delighted at the idea and agrees. You wanna tire this woman out, what’s a more efficient method than giving her a few orgasms? (maybe even include this being Lucy’s first time being eaten out?)

── GUILTY PLEASURE

— summary: lucy won’t stop talking.

— warnings: kind of inexperienced!lucy. fem!reader. nsfw content. mdni. this took me a month to edit but here we are.

the shelter you’d stumbled upon earlier isn’t much. it’s hardly anything at all: half a roof, crumbling walls, and a faint musty smell.

still, it seemed better than sleeping under the open sky where god knows what could catch you off guard. so, you decide to settle yourself near the door, leaning against the wall with your weapon in easy reach. first watch, as always.

and, as always, lucy is making it harder than it needs to be.

she’s sprawled on her bedroll a few feet away, her head propped on her pack like a makeshift pillow. the dim glow of the dying embers between you throws flickering shadows across her face, as she talks.

“-and, i mean, who even puts that much trust in a filtration system, you know?” she says, her tone exasperated. “it’s like, sure, the overseers say it’ll last forever, but what happens when the pipes get clogged? no backup system, no-“

you pinch the bridge of your nose, cutting her off before she can spiral any further into whatever story she’s telling you from her life in vault 33. “lucy-“

“what?”

“i thought we agreed you’d try to sleep during my watch!”

“we did,” she says, shifting to rest on her elbows now . never a good sign. “but you’re awake anyway, so it’s not like i’m interrupting anything. besides, you’re terrible at keeping yourself entertained. i’m doing you a favor!”

you give her a flat look. “i don’t need ‘to be entertained’. i need quiet!”

lucy scoffs. “quiet seems overrated. besides, what if something sneaks up on you? you’ll want me awake to watch your back.”

“that’s literally my job right now,” you deadpan, gesturing toward what once was a door.

“okay, fair,” she says with a shrug. “but what if you fall asleep? then we’re both screwed!”

you let your head fall back against the wall with a soft thud, staring at the cracked ceiling. “lucy, if i fall asleep, it’ll be because you spent all night talking about pipes and filtration systems instead of letting me do my job and i’ve bored myself to death!”

“i’m just saying, vault-tec could’ve planned better” lucy goes on after a short pause, like you’ve never asked her to stop at all. “like, one person on maintenance for an entire level? no wonder the water tasted weird that day!”

this has been your dynamic ever since you met her: lucy talking your ear off, filling the silence with anything and everything that comes to her mind.

“do you ever stop?” you ask, arching an eyebrow at her.

“not really,” lucy says, grinning. “another thing,” she leans forward slightly. “i get why you’re all about this ‘quiet’ thing, but maybe you’d actually enjoy these little watch shifts if you talked more. or, you know, let me help you stay awake!”

you scoff. “help me stay awake?”

“yeah,” she says. “like conversations, or games, or- i don’t know, literally anything but sitting there staring into the darkness like some broody protagonist in a bad holotape!”

“you’re unbelievable.” you laugh, despite yourself.

she beams, triumphant, and leans back again, her hands clasped behind her head. “you’re welcome.”

the wasteland beyond the door feels vast and empty, the moonlight barely illuminating the cracked ground and jagged ruins. you focus on the shadows, your grip tightening slightly on your rifle. lucy’s voice continues behind you, her words blending into the ambient hum of the night.

another ten minutes of this pass, your patience wearing thinner with every syllable; your initial plan to just wait for her to get sleepy doesn’t seem to be working.

“if i had been in charge of the vault party planning committee, there’s no way they would’ve run out that fast” she’s currently recalling. “it’s simple logistics. one crate for every-“

“lucy,” you interject, your voice flat.

“what?”

“are you ever going to go to sleep?”

“eventually,” she says with a shrug. “it’s not like i’m bothering you, right?”

you sigh, defeated. “you are absolutely bothering me,”

she ignores that completely, her tone turning thoughtful. “it’s kinda nice, though, isn’t it? i talk, you listen, we bond. i mean, sure, you don’t say much, but that’s probably because you’re so fascinated by what i have to say-“

“lucy…”

“-which i get! not everyone grew up in a vault, so my perspective is pretty-“

“lucy!”

she finally pauses. “yes?”

you turn fully, leaning your shoulder against the wall as you cross your arms. “do you want to have sex?”

the words hang in the air for a beat, and for once, lucy falls completely silent. you watch as her face cycles through surprise, confusion, and delight in rapid succession.

“wait, what?” she asks, already sitting up. “do i- are you serious?”

you shrug, trying to look nonchalant despite the heat creeping up your neck. “you’re not gonna sleep, and you’re definitely not gonna let me do my thing. i figure if i wear you out, i might actually get some peace and quiet tonight,”

lucy blinks at you, and then, once you’re fairly sure she will turn the insane offer down, she grins.

you‘ve thought about it before. not about sex, necessarily, but tamer things: you found yourself staring at lucy in the rare moments when she wasn’t chatting away, eyes studying her features whenever she hadn’t been looking your way. you thought about kissing her, too, about her body against yours and-

well, perhaps you had thought about sex with her.

you never figured out what vault dwellers like her learned about sex down there. only that, presumably, she does seem to know what you’re on about, judging by her enthusiasm.

“this is the best thing you’ve suggested so far,” she says, already tossing aside her blanket and crossing the small room to stand beside you.

lucy lingers above you for a moment, her eyes scanning over you as if weighing her next move. she takes her time. when she finally lowers herself into your lap, it’s with purpose, every movement measured. her weight presses into your thighs, grounding you in place, while her palms rest on your shoulders. lucy’s thumbs gently trace circles on your skin through your clothes as her eyes search yours.

to your surprise, you are the first to falter under her gaze, something lucy so clearly relishes. a satisfied glint flickers in her eyes just before her hands glide up, fingers curling around your jaw as she cups your face. without warning, she tilts your head back, guiding your gaze to hers again, brushing absently over the corner of your lips.

“don’t look away now,” she murmurs, a teasing rasp, her breath ghosting over your skin.

her thumb and forefinger catch your chin, holding it firmly as she hovers there, close, her lips parting ever so slightly as if to speak.

just when you think you can’t stand it any longer, lucy finally leans in.

her lips meet yours, soft at first, almost tentative, like she's waiting for some kind of reaction. she grazes the sides of your face, memorizing the feel of you beneath her touch. the kiss deepens quickly, the tension from earlier bleeding away into something much softer, more urgent.

her confidence only falters when she first tries to grind down against your pelvis, searching for a friction you cannot provide. you’re not sure what she had expected, or if she’s moving on instinct, but this is when it seems to sink in that lucy is in no position to fully take the lead here.

“are you a virgin?” you blurt at her puzzled expression.

“no!” lucy says, shaking her head. “no, it’s not- i got married remember…?” she grimaces, recalling the events that had followed her rather short lived ‘marriage’ in vault 33.

“okay, so…” you start. “what’s going on here, then?”

“i-” her gaze flicks between you and some point over your shoulder. her cheeks flush. “i just- well, you know, it’s not that different, right?”

“lucy…” your voice softens, even as you fight back a laugh. “do you actually know what you’re doing?”

“yes!” she says immediately, too quickly. then she hesitates. “well…sort of?”

you give her a look, and her face crumples into a sheepish grimace.“okay, fine, no,” lucy admits, throwing her hands up in defeat. “but i wasn’t going to say that out loud! i thought i could just…figure it out as we went.”

you sigh, though there’s no real annoyance in it. “you’ve been with someone before. why didn’t you-”

“because it’s different!” she interrupts, her voice rising again. “i mean, for one thing, he wasn’t…” she waves her hand vaguely in your direction, her words trailing off like she’s afraid to finish the thought.

“a woman?” you supply.

“yes, exactly,” lucy nods. then, as if to clarify: “not that that’s bad! it’s just- i don’t really know what i’m supposed to- how i’m supposed to…” her voice fades again, and she presses her lips together, clearly frustrated with herself.

“lucy,” you say gently, drawing her attention back to you. “it’s not something you’re supposed to just know. especially if…” you pause, hesitant to touch on something that might sting. “especially if it wasn’t…encouraged where you grew up,”

she frowns, her brows pulling together. “yeah, well, vault 33 wasn’t exactly a…bastion of sexual enlightenment! marriage, reproduction, carrying on the bloodline…i suppose it was always about the next generation, never about- this!”

lucy sighs.

“and, look,” her words come in a rush now, like she’s determined to explain everything before you can judge her. “it’s not like i have a problem with it! i mean, clearly, i don’t, because we’re, uh, doing…whatever this is. i just…i guess i thought it’d be easier to figure out!”

you reach up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. all your previous annoyance has melted away, replaced by a need to show her that this -sex- could be about so much more than just reproduction. “you don’t have to figure it out all at once, you know. we’ve got time!”

lucy’s gaze meets yours, hesitant but hopeful. “we do?”

“yeah,” you say softly, your fingers lingering against her cheek. “you don’t have to take the lead here, either. just…trust me, okay?”

“okay,” she says quietly. “okay, i trust you,”

“good,” you lean up, brushing your lips against hers, slow and careful. her shoulders relax immediately, and when she kisses you back, it’s sweeter than before: less frantic, more curious, like she’s letting herself feel everything for the first time.

you kiss her slowly at first, moving your lips in sync with lucy’s. she’s following your lead now, letting you set the pace of your mouths. she still seems as eager though, and when she starts moving her hips again, you’re prepared:

instead of your pelvis, you maneuver her so that she’s grinding on your thigh, finally giving her access to the friction she’d been searching for.

“o-oh-“ lucy mewls softly, her head lulling back as she ruts against you for a little while. you can feel the warmth radiating from between her legs already, damp through the fabric of her suit.

taking it off will be a risk, of course: stripping naked would make a quick escape damn near impossible. but you decide that, as you feel her arousal drag over your leg, lucy maclean is worth every risky decision that might come with it.

so, as she moves against you, as high-pitched moans start spilling from her throat, you reach for the zipper of the blue suit. it parts smoothly, the soft scraping of the interlocking metal echoing in the otherwise quiet space.

you look up at lucy, only vaguely aware of the white bralette that comes into view now that you’re unzipping her clothes.

you don’t want to make her uncomfortable by blatantly staring but the skin that’s revealed to you makes it impossibly hard. so, instead, you choose another way to show off your appreciation: without tearing your eyes from hers, you lean in and press your mouth to the flesh between her collarbones, then move lower.

lucy gasps, her lips parted and her brows slightly furrowed. it’s her who peels the sleeves of her jumpsuit from her arms, who lets it pool by her hips and reaches for you all over again. who urges you closer by the back of your head with one hand, while the other grabs the hem of her underwear.

“wow,” you gasp, dumbfounded when lucy -your lucy- tugs the bra upwards enough to free her bare chest from the restrictive fabric. she smiles, shyly, and tilts her head.

her nails sink into your shoulder the second your mouth closes around her nipple; she’s responsive there, more than you ever were, more than you thought she’d be. so responsive that lucy starts moving her hips more frantic when you roll her other nipple between your index and thumb.

and still…”more,” she whines softly, greedily, dragging her soaked center across your flexed muscle. “i want you to touch me,” she breathes. “please”

you trail slow, open mouthed kisses down her torso, your hands gliding over the curve of her back. you press lower, as far as you can reach, until your neck twists at an almost painful angle and lucy's hand finds the back of your head, cradling it gently.

that’s when you shift, moving her body so she’s leaning against the wall and you’re positioned between her spread legs.

lucy watches you through curious eyes, studying your every move as you get to kiss down her body more comfortably. you hold the eye contact, despite the need to stare at her chest (her nipples still hard and wet with your spit) until you have to pull the zipper lower and peel the fabric from her legs.

you slide it off and tuck it beneath her, allowing lucy to rest on it rather than the dirty floor, leaving her in a pair of panties matching the white bralette.

lucy’s body shudders as you kiss back up the expanse of her legs, the muscles in her thighs tensing. obviously, you don’t stop there: you crawl up further and further until you’re almost at the apex, reaching for the waistline of the underwear and-

her legs clamp together suddenly, forcing you back.

“what-“ lucy stammers, unsure. “what are you doing?”

“i was gonna-“ you lick your lips, dropping your hands to her hips. of course lucy has no idea what you were going to do. “can i-“ you consider your words, unsure how to explain it so she’ll understand. “-put my mouth there?”

lucy’s eyes widen. “you want to-”

“please,” you whisper. “please, can i eat you out?”

lucy -her own want betraying her- whines, her hips jerking towards your mouth. from here, between her legs, you can see the wet patch of arousal that has soaked through her underwear.

“okay,” she pants, nodding frantically. “okay, yes. please!”

immediately, you reach out, hook your fingers underneath them and pull the panties down her thighs. you take your time making sure to securely place them in one of the suit’s pockets so they won’t get dirty, before finally turning your gaze back to lucy, who’s waiting in anticipation.

she lets you take in the sight with a nervous look on her face, biting the side of her index.

your fingertips absentmindedly trace the skin, watching the way lucy’s body parts for you. she is beautiful, endlessly beautiful, glistening with arousal, and framed by coarse hair.

“i’m sorry, i should’ve-“ she begins, but you immediately hush her.

“you’re beautiful,”

lucy inhales breathlessly, her fingers forming a v-shape and spreading herself open for you to see.

“fuck-“ you mutter under your breath. lucy’s clit is throbbing.

slowly, you make your way up her thigh. in response, lucy buries her fingers in your hair, sighs softly as she invites you in, and spreads her legs wider.

you nudge her skin with your nose, nipping on the tender flesh.

the first time you put your mouth on lucy, her legs close around your head. her jaw goes slack and her brows furrow in concentration, adjusting to the new sensation.

you start with featherlight kisses to her swollen clit, each making her buck her hips against your face.

“o-oh!” lucy stammers from above, looking almost confused, surprised by how good your lips feel as they brush over her. “that feels so good,” she breathes finally, her body rolling down against your tongue.

“yeah?” you murmur, soothingly wrapping your arms around her thighs to hold her open as you circle her clit with the tip of your tongue.

“mhm,” lucy nods, but it comes out more like a whine at a particular good press of your lips. just as lucy buries her fingers in your hair, seemingly wanting to push you closer, you push her apart and lick a broad stroke right through her, getting your first actual taste.

instinctively, your eyes roll back, the lewd moan that rips from your throat drowned out by her skin.

“g-god-“ she stutters. “that’s- ah- good.”

unbeknownst to lucy, the sweet praise goes straight to your center. if you had a pillow, or anything useful around, you’d shove it between your legs and grind on it while you eat her out.

but, regardless of your own lack of relief, her words encourage you to lick deeper, to move faster inside of her and show her all that she’s been missing out on. you alternate between fucking your tongue into her, and wrapping your lips around her clit to suck on it, all while lucy pulls your closer, guiding your tongue to where she needs it the most.

you gladly let her, ignoring the occasional sting of your scalp at sharper tugs.

for a while, you eat lucy out like that, getting lost in each of her desperate attempts to stifle her sighs and her taste in your mouth. her words have morphed into muffled babbles above you, incoherent sounds of pleasure.

it doesn’t take long at all until she is getting closer: her head has lulled back against her bag, her moans come out more ragged and breathless, and the leg she has thrown over your shoulder trembles with tension as she pushes her heel down on your spine to urge you closer.

instead of teasing lucy, you go right for it.

your lips close around her clit again, just as two of your fingers sink into her. squirming above you, lucy mindlessly grinds her hips to your face, aching for that release. she chants little ‘ah, ah, ah’ sounds, her cunt tightening around your fingers so much it’s hard for you to thrust them in and out of her.

both your nose and your chin are covered in lucy’s wetness, glistening in the dimly lit space as her hands curl to fists in your hair.

“i feel…” she begins, trailing off. you’re not sure she knows what she’s feeling. or maybe she’s in disbelief because you only have your hands and mouth to use on her and still it’s enough.

either way, you encourage her, putting your thumb in place of your lips, rubbing her clit with the wet pad of your finger to keep her on the edge. “that’s it,” you mumble.

lucy chokes on her noise of approval and just nods her head instead. “yes,” she whispers, over and over, like a prayer. “yes, yes, yes! i’m gonna-“

that’s all of a warning you get before her whole body tenses. her lips are parted in a silent scream, her hips jerk forward once more before it all comes crashing down on lucy. the sound she makes is somewhat between a cry and a moan of your name and she arches her back from the ground when she cums.

you manage to tear your gaze away from her convulsing cunt to catch a glimpse of her, so lost in the haze of her pleasure: lucy’s eyes are shut tightly, her head thrown back so much that the entire expanse of her neck is on display for you.

her walls tighten around your fingers, trying to suck you in deeper, to keep you in place while she trembles with the force of the orgasm she’s riding out on you.

only when her body has stopped shaking, you lean back, not wanting to push her too far. she’s already given you more than enough.

“phew,” lucy says once she’s caught her breath. it’s so ridiculously lucy you have to bite back a laugh. “is it- is it always like this?” she asks by the time you’ve crawled back up her body and slumped down by her side.

you reach for her, not even thinking about it properly until you’re already cradling her face, your thumb grazing over her jaw soothingly. lucy doesn’t seem to mind.

“no,” you manage quietly, taking in her features in the dark. “no, it’s never been like this.”

luct turns her head to look at you, her expression open. she’s still flushed, her hair mussed, her lips kiss-swollen, and she’s smiling.

“i liked it,” she says, voice hushed. then, as if realizing how simple that sounds, she rushes to clarify: “not just because of- well, you know…but because it was you!”

you swallow hard, caught off guard by the sincerity in her voice. “yeah?”

lucy nods, shifting so she’s curled against your side, her fingers idly tracing patterns against your arm. “yeah.” a beat passes, then: “i think i wanna do that again. like…a lot.”

you laugh outright at that, tilting your head to press a kiss to her temple. “you really are something else, maclean.”

she hums, pleased, before shifting closer, tucking herself against you like she belongs there. you don’t realize how quiet it’s gotten until lucy is fast asleep in your arms.

#˙💌 ̟ !! ─ my works #lucy maclean #lucy maclean x reader #lucy maclean x female reader #lucy maclean x fem!reader #lucy maclean x you #fallout #˙🔞 ̟ !! mdni

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come-as-you-are-111 · 1 day ago

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𝓒𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓒𝓪𝓵𝓵..

Warnings: fluff, angst, cussing, squid game does exist but that ain’t the main focus here, friends to lovers? (Maybe a part two coming?…)

Is it clear I didn’t know what to put as the photos? 😭😭

Jun-Ho has always been reckless—too reckless. You knew that when you fell for him. But it’s different when you’re the one watching him bleed.

He stumbles into your apartment at nearly 2 AM, his jacket torn, knuckles split, and a deep gash running along his arm. He barely gets the door shut before you’re on him, eyes scanning every inch of him with a mix of panic and fury.

“What the hell happened?” you demand, already reaching for the first-aid kit.

Jun-Ho exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his damp hair. “It’s nothing.”

You let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Oh, yeah? You look like you got run over.”

“I didn’t.” He shrugs. “Just a bad night.”

A bad night. That’s what he calls showing up at your door looking like this. Like he didn’t just shake hands with death and somehow slip away again.

You drop down in front of him on the couch, yanking his arm toward you with more force than necessary. He barely reacts.

“Stay still,” you mutter, pressing a damp cloth against the wound.

He hisses at the sting, but you ignore it.

“You’re mad,” he says after a moment.

“No shit, I’m mad.” Your hands shake as you press gauze to his skin. “One day, you’re not gonna walk through that door at all.”

He goes quiet.

And that silence? It terrifies you more than anything. Because it means he knows you’re right.

The room feels smaller. The dim glow of the lamp casts long shadows, the only sound between you the soft scrape of gauze and his uneven breaths. When you glance up, Jun-Ho’s eyes are already on you. Always on you.

“I always come back,” he murmurs.

You swallow hard. “That’s not the point.”

His fingers ghost over your wrist, hesitant at first, then firmer, grounding. His grip is warm, steady despite the bruises on his knuckles. “Then tell me what is.”

You don’t answer.

Because you know what he’s asking. What he’s really asking. And if you say it out loud, if you admit what he means to you, then you won’t be able to let go.

“I—” The words catch in your throat.

Then Jun-Ho does something dangerous.

He leans in.

Not enough to kiss you—just enough that his breath brushes your lips, enough that you feel the heat radiating off him.

Your heart slams against your ribs.

“Tell me to leave,” he murmurs. “And I will.”

You should.

You should tell him to leave, should push him away, should protect yourself before he becomes another ghost haunting you.

But when his hand slides up to cup your jaw, when his thumb brushes over your cheek, when his lips hover just close enough to steal your breath—

You don’t.

Instead, your fingers tighten around his wrist, keeping him there.

His throat bobs. His breathing is uneven now, like you’re the one unraveling him.

“You make this hard,” you whisper.

Jun-Ho exhales a quiet, shaky laugh. “And yet, you never let me go.”

It’s not a question. It’s the truth.

And when his lips finally brush against yours, it’s slow, careful—like he’s waiting for you to pull away. But you don’t. You can’t. Because even if this is reckless, even if this hurts, Jun-Ho is here. Alive.

And right now, that’s all that matters.

A/n: Hi my lil monsters! How we likey? First Jun-Ho fic so I’m excited!! Might make a part two if yall want it 😼

Love ya, Twilight

Taglist:

@amoristt @lousypotatoes @infinetlyforgotten @mirahyun

Squid game taglist:

@amoristt @lousypotatoes @infinetlyforgotten @mirahyun @takuma-talkz

#squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game fanfic #squid game x reader #squid game 2 #nam gyu #choi su bong #kang dae ho #hwang jun ho x reader #hwang jun ho #hwang junho #jun-ho x reader #jun-ho #fanfiction #fluff #angst #friends to lovers #enimies to lovers

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angelsfat3 · 2 days ago

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ⓘㅤ 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 ⠀⠀( 从我脑子里滚出去！)

𝓢ummary “ ✉. No matter how much you brag about moving on, it all ends up in his bed.

⠀،،⠀Genre. ’ Exes with benefits (secretly lovers), drama, au, mlm, suggestive.

( 𝒄/𝒘. )───Curses, Soobin being a tease, blackmail, nothing more.

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

The first sign that something was wrong was the cold.

Not an unbearable cold, but that creeping sensation on your skin when something feels out of place. You shifted slightly, feeling the sheets slide over your body… too soft for your liking. That’s when the discomfort settled in your chest.

You opened your eyes sluggishly, blinking a few times before the room became familiar.

Fuck. Not again.

Your body tensed instantly. The space, the bed, the faint scent of expensive cologne mixed with fabric softener—everything confirmed what your brain was trying to deny. You were naked.

You bolted upright, yanking the sheets to cover yourself, and at that precise moment, you heard his voice.

“You woke up earlier today. Good morning, prince.”

A shiver ran down your spine.

Slowly, you turned your head, as if that could delay the inevitable. And there he was. Sitting in front of his computer, fingers moving with practiced precision over the keyboard, his eyes fixed on the screen, fully engrossed in his League of Legends match—as if you weren’t there, naked in his bed.

“Shut up,” you muttered through clenched teeth, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks.

Soobin didn’t bother looking at you, but a smug smile crept onto his face before he answered in that relaxed, condescending tone.

“What? Still not used to this?” he teased, leaning back slightly in his chair without pausing his game. “We’ve been doing this for… what? Almost 6 months now?”

Your pulse pounded in your ears.

Of course, you weren’t used to it. Because this wasn’t supposed to keep happening. Because you were supposed to hate him.

And yet, there you were, naked in his bed again.

And worst of all? As if it wouldn’t happen again soon.

───────────────────────────────────

The class started like any other. The murmurs of your classmates faded the moment the professor began speaking, and you found yourself glued to your notes, trying to keep up with the lesson, but your mind kept betraying you.

The sound of his voice faded as your eyes nervously moved over your notes, seeking refuge in them, but your thoughts kept returning to one thing.

That damn bed. The way Soobin had looked at you the night before, his eyes shining in the dim light, his soft but determined voice whispering things that cut through to your bones.

Those damn memories kept coming back, and no matter how much you tried to ignore them, you couldn’t. The echo of the previous night replayed over and over in your head, like a movie you couldn’t stop.

“You know what you do to me, right?” The words still echoed in your mind as if you were hearing them in that very moment, his warm breath against your neck as his hands traced your skin, as if you were his in some way that made you want to hate him even more.

“You can’t resist. Neither can I... just look at you, I could fuck you on my desk or your favorite spot, my couch.”

The memory of his lips brushing yours, the moment when, despite everything you hated about him, you couldn’t help but respond. The faint taste of his mouth, that feeling of belonging in his world even though you swore you never would. You flushed just thinking about it, the heat rising to your cheeks.

Shit.

“Come on, [...]” his words rang in your mind as you saw him lean over you, his lips crashing onto yours with that irritating need.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it...”

His hands touched your skin, the same skin that now burned under the fabric of the shirt you hastily put on that morning.

You gripped the pen tightly as you tried to focus on something, anything, to shut out those thoughts. But Soobin wouldn’t let you. You wouldn’t let yourself.

“Are you nervous, my angel?” His voice had been soft, almost mocking, when, amidst everything, he pushed you onto the bed with that challenging look. There was something about his presence that drove you crazy.

Just remembering it... Shit. He was already tightening his pants.

“Fuck!” you thought, biting the inside of your cheek. It couldn’t be that, despite everything you did, you had let him touch you, let him kiss you, as if that was so easy for him.

You stole a quick glance in his direction. He was focused on the professor, completely ignoring you, as always, taking notes with that annoying perfection that made you furious. But that wasn’t what kept you tense.

It was the memory of the way he looked at you last night, how his eyes had glinted as he said:

“You say you hate me, but only I can have you like this.”

Your face burned, your cheeks and ears radiating heat. For a moment, you felt like everyone in the room could notice, that they could see what Soobin had made you feel.

What the hell was wrong with you? Why did you keep falling for his game?

But then.

“[...]” the professor called your name, pulling you out of your tangle of thoughts and snapping you back to reality with a mocking smile.

For a moment, you felt worse than dead, suddenly sweating cold. You were never a fan of being the center of attention, ironically, in class. But when everyone’s eyes turned to you, you felt the heat flood your face again, that damn embarrassment.

“What do you think of the narrative style of this author?” the professor asked, glancing at his watch impatiently.

You had gotten so lost in the memories of the previous night that you didn’t even know what he was talking about. As always, pretending didn’t even help anymore.

You shrugged with fake indifference, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.

“Well, I don’t know... I guess it’s fine.” you murmured, trying to hide the discomfort you felt in every inch of your body.

The professor raised an eyebrow, clearly expecting more, but when it became obvious you weren’t going to say anything, he just clicked his tongue and moved on with the lesson.

A quiet sigh of relief escaped your lips as you slumped into your seat, avoiding the curious glances from a few classmates. But there was one in particular that you could feel more than all the others.

Soobin.

You didn’t need to turn around to know he was watching you. You could feel it—that damn weight of his gaze pressing into you, as if he were enjoying your obvious distraction.

Slowly, you shifted your gaze toward where he sat a few rows ahead, entirely focused on his notes, his pen gliding smoothly across the page with that usual calm expression—like nothing in the world could shake him.

Like he wasn’t thinking about what he did to you last night.

But then, just when you thought maybe it was all in your head, you saw it.

He smiled.

Not the polite smile he used with professors or his teammates. It was a smirk, barely noticeable, but it was there. Like he knew exactly what was on your mind. Like he knew you were watching him.

Your body tensed.

“Aren’t you going to look at me through the mirror?”

The memory of his voice hit you again, a persistent echo you couldn’t shake.

“Did I tell you I’m a fan of how tight you get? No matter how many times…”

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to shake those images from your head. His mouth tracing over your skin, his fingers pressing exactly where they knew you’d tremble. His low laugh when he watched you lose control.

“Say it. Say you need me.”

“Ugh…” you murmured, rubbing your face with both hands.

“Something to share with the class, [...]? You seem more distracted than usual,” the professor asked in a bored tone, prompting a few chuckles from the class.

“Uh…” Your mouth opened, but no words came out.

Soobin shifted in his seat, and for a moment, you thought he was going to ignore it. But instead, he raised his hand.

“Professor, I think [...] would much rather discuss… a different kind of narrative,” he said, not even looking at you, his voice laced with amusement.

The muffled laughter from your classmates made you want to disappear.

Soobin. Fucking Soobin.

If it weren’t for the fact that you knew you’d end up in his bed again, you would’ve sworn you were going to kill him.

Classes went on as usual, but you could barely focus. The way Soobin had made that comment without even looking at you was eating you alive. You knew he’d done it on purpose, just to watch you burn with embarrassment in front of everyone.

And the worst part? It had worked. You’d spent half the class making up a story on the spot.

The moment the bell rang, signaling the end of class, you grabbed your things in a hurry, trying to leave before anyone could stop you. But of course, luck was never on your side.

"Run faster next time, bunny."

Soobin’s voice came from right behind you, relaxed and teasing, that infuriatingly smug tone making you want to turn around and punch him in the face… or do something worse.

You spun on your heels, slamming your locker shut.

“Does ruining my life amuse you?”

Soobin shrugged with a grin.

“Not my fault you can’t stop thinking about me.”

Your jaw clenched. Of course he knew. Of course he’d noticed. Because no matter what, Soobin always found a way to get under your skin.

“Screw you, asshole,” you muttered, turning to leave.

“Oh yeah? You didn’t say that last night.”

Your step faltered for just a second, but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you react. You kept walking, feeling his gaze burn into your back until you turned the corner.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ──────

During lunch, you sat with your friends, trying to distract yourself with any conversation that wasn’t about him. And for a moment, it almost worked.

Until he walked into the cafeteria.

You didn’t need to look to know he was there. It was automatic at this point.

As always, his uniform shirt was perfectly in place, the sleeves rolled up just enough to his elbows, his hair slightly tousled in a way that seemed effortless—but you knew better. Soobin never did anything without intent.

And, of course, the first thing he did was look at you.

A brief exchange of glances. A split second where your breath caught in your throat, until he smiled—that infuriatingly smug expression that drove you insane.

You forced yourself to look away, focusing on the food on your tray as if you actually cared about it. But you knew he was still there.

Talking with his friends. Laughing with that voice that, damn it, was already imprinted in your head. And worse? Ignoring you. Or at least, that’s what you thought.

Because that’s what he did. He got in your head, played with you, then acted like you were nothing.

Your fork stabbed into your food harder than necessary.

“You good?” one of your friends asked, noticing your attitude.

You forced a smile.

“Yeah, totally. Just… really hungry. I could eat a whole cow.”

A fake smile settled on your lips as you took a big bite of your chicken salad. Conversation flowed as usual within your group—some joking around, others gossiping.

“…So, what’s up with Soobin?” one of your friends asked out of nowhere, just as you were about to take another bite.

You nearly choked.

“What’s up? Nothing. That idiot is still the same egotistical asshole as always,” you replied with obvious indifference, poking at your food without interest.

“Still at war, or have you signed a peace treaty, Donald Duck?” another one joked, earning a few laughs from the table.

You scoffed.

“Peace? Please. You can’t reason with Soobin. He always has to prove he’s better. At everything. Literally.”

Your friends nodded in agreement, giving you the perfect motivation to continue.

“He always has to be the smartest, the tallest, the best at everything. But if we talk about how he was as a boyfriend… that ‘perfect guy’ reputation of his kinda falls apart.”

“Damn, that bad?” one of them asked, laughing.

“You guys have no idea,” you sighed dramatically, propping your elbow on the table. “Soobin loved bragging about all kinds of shit, but there was one thing that always killed the mood whenever he and I…”

You stopped yourself mid-sentence, realizing all eyes were now locked on you with curiosity.

“When you what?” one of them asked with a teasing grin.

“Nothing, nothing,” you rushed to say, stuffing food into your mouth to make it seem like you hadn’t almost revealed way more than necessary.

But your friends were already too invested.

“Oh, come on, you started it. How was he in… ‘everything’?” one of them teased, wiggling their eyebrows.

“Probably talking about how he wasn’t exactly 12 inch—” another left the sentence hanging, smirking mischievously.

“Hey!” you protested, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “Enough already. I don’t care to talk about Soobin like that. All I’m saying is that he was annoying, arrogant, and a total fucking asshole.”

“Oh, but you were all over him. Almost got his initial tattooed, even.”

You did. Lower back, to the left.

“Youthful mistake,” you said quickly, raising your hands in mock surrender.

“So you don’t miss him? Not even a little…?” one of them sang, though something about their tone felt off. They kept glancing over your shoulder.

“Please, I’d rather miss the shit I took this morning than him.”

You really should’ve shut up when you had the chance. Poor dumbass.

“I’m flattered.”

The voice behind you made time freeze for a second. It was like your entire body tensed at once.

Slowly, you turned, already feeling panic rising in your chest, only to find Soobin standing right next to the table, arms crossed, one brow raised.

His expression was neutral, but his eyes—his goddamn eyes—held that glint of amusement that told you he’d heard enough.

“Soobin…” you said, forcing a smile. “How… how long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough.” His voice was calm.

Your friends exchanged looks—some entertained, others waiting for the inevitable drama.

Soobin tilted his head, scanning you with that infuriating gaze that always seemed to see more than you wanted to show. Up and down, completely shameless.

“So, I was a shitty boyfriend, huh?” he murmured, lips curling into that smirk that made your blood boil. “That’s… interesting… ’cause last night, you didn’t seem so regretful about scratching up my back for hours.”

Silence. Absolute silence.

Your mouth opened, but no words came out.

Soobin leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just for you.

“You should be more careful with what you say, [...]. Wouldn’t want certain pictures of us getting out,” he paused, chuckling under his breath, “—moaning my name like the desperate little bitch you are.”

And just like that, he straightened up with irritating ease, as if he hadn’t just sent your heart into overdrive and your cheeks into flames, before walking off with that same infuriating grace.

Your friends erupted into chaos—questions, shouts, disbelief.

And you? Well.

You wanted to fucking die.

You didn’t think. You just reacted.

Jumping to your feet, you ignored your friends’ stares and bolted after Soobin. You spotted him walking casually down the hallway, that damn relaxed posture of his making it seem like he hadn’t just ruined your entire existence.

“Soobin!” you shouted, picking up your pace.

He didn’t even flinch, just kept strolling toward his locker.

“Soobin, for fuck’s sake, I’m talking to you!”

When you caught up to him, you grabbed his arm forcefully, yanking him to a stop.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you snapped, chest rising and falling from the rush. “How the hell could you say that in front of everyone?”

Soobin let out a low grunt, rolling his eyes like he couldn’t be more annoyed.

“Are we really doing this here?” he muttered, not even looking at you.

“Yes, right fucking here! Because I need you to explain what the hell was going through your—”

You never finished your sentence.

Because in a move so fast you barely saw it coming, Soobin grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked you forward, rough and unyielding.

A startled gasp left your lips as he shoved you into an empty classroom, locking the door behind him with a sharp click.

Your back hit the wall, and Soobin stood right in front of you, eyes burning with something dark, something dangerous.

“Do you have any idea how fucking irritating you are?” he murmured, voice low and almost raspy.

Your heart was pounding.

“I…” You swallowed hard, trying to regain your composure. “T-That still doesn’t justify what you did!”

Soobin let out a dry laugh, placing a hand on the wall beside your head, effectively caging you in.

“Oh, come on,” he whispered, leaning in slightly. “Drop the act. You and I both know that no matter how much shit you talk about me, you’ll always end up on your knees for me.”

Your breath hitched.

“That’s a lie.”

Soobin arched a brow, clearly entertained.

“Oh yeah? Then tell me you don’t think about me all the damn time. Look me in the eyes and say you didn’t beg me last night to fuck you until you—”

Your hand flew up, slapping over his mouth before he could finish, heat flooding your face.

“Shut up,” you hissed through clenched teeth.

He stared at you for a second, then bit down lightly on your palm—just enough to make you pull away with a sharp inhale.

“You’re a fucking idiot. You never change,” you whispered.

Soobin smirked.

“And you still love me like that.”

The air between you turned heavy, thick with tension. His gaze dropped to your lips, and you—stupid, reckless, weak—did the same with his.

No. Not again.

You needed to get the hell out of here before this happened again.

But then, Soobin leaned in even closer…

The air between you grew thick, heavy with something both of you refused to acknowledge—but always ended up surrendering to.

And then, Soobin just snapped.

His lips crashed against yours, rough and unyielding, without warning, without hesitation. A wild, desperate kiss, like he was trying to consume you whole.

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up. Your hands clung to his shirt, and the moment his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him, you didn’t think twice before hooking your legs around his hips.

Soobin groaned into your mouth, pressing you against the wall as he deepened the kiss, his tongue claiming you with raw hunger. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging hard, the burn in your stomach growing unbearable.

You had no idea how long it lasted, but when you finally broke apart, both of you were gasping for air, lips swollen, eyes dark with want.

Soobin rested his forehead against yours, a smug smirk tugging at his lips.

“A quickie right here?” he murmured, still breathless. “Then I’ll take you out to a fancy dinner. My treat, I swear.”

It took your brain a second to register his words. And when it did, your face burned.

“A quickie here? Are you a caveman or what?” you managed to say, though your voice wavered.

Soobin chuckled, amused by your reaction.

“I’m just saying we could save some time.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it.

You knew you had two choices. Push him away and walk out before things spiraled even further… or give in, like you always did.

And, well, you both knew which one you’d choose.

“Fine,” you muttered, starting to slide off his waist. “But you better not squeeze my ass too hard—I’ll be sore for hours, and we still have class.”

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ݁⠀⠀،،⠀⠀메모 ! ㅤ⸻ㅤ I just had to do a story after and while listening to Love Hangover, even if they don't give off the same vibes.

+ All photo credits to: 📍︐⠀

⠀𝒊. ⠀─⠀ All credits to @angelsfat3 / @foschiamara⠀𝄒

. . . ₍⠀아이디어 !ㅤ⸻ㅤI'm very short of ideas lately, so feel free to leave me any requests! <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>⠀₎⠀ ִֶָ

#kpop x male reader #＃𝗧𝗫𝗧︐ 𝑠 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝖻𝗂𝗇.ㅤ／ㅤO1.#𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡𝙨𝘧𝘢𝘵3ㅤ﹟ㅤ𝗎𝗉𝗅𝗈𝖺𝖽𝖾𝖽.#x male reader #kpop scenarios #x male smut #sub male reader #txt x male reader #soobin x male reader #txt soobin #txt au #x male oc

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httpswritings · 9 hours ago

Text

Lost On You

alexia putellas x realmadrid!reader and misa rodriguez x realmadrid!reader (as friends)

This story contains unrealistic plots (you'll know which ones I'm referring to as you read throughout the story) and it doesn't have a closed happy ending for ale/reader but it does have a cute ending for misa and reader's friendship.

It’s still a blur how it all happened, but somehow, you caught the attention of a Real Madrid scout. The memory feels hazy, like a dream you can’t quite piece together.

Almost three years ago, you walked Misa, your lifelong friend, to one of her training sessions. You were always early—your fear of being late to anything saw to that—and that day was no exception. With time to kill, Misa insisted you join her for a bit until her session started. She grabbed a ball and nudged you to take a few shots, claiming it would help her warm up.

“This isn’t fair. You know I’m terrible at this, Mimi,” you protested, shaking your head.

“So what? You’re here with me. We’ve got, like, forty-five minutes to kill,” she replied, grinning.

“No, you have forty-five minutes until training. This isn’t exactly my thing,” you shot back, though your resolve was already crumbling.

You could never say no to her, especially when she looked at you with those dark brown eyes. Misa was three years older than you, but she’d always been your rock. She was your protector—through school, through high school, through everything. No one dared mess with you because they knew Misa and her friends would have your back.

There were only two times anyone tried to tease you, both involving girls who thought they were bold enough. Both times, it took just one of your tears for Misa to lose her temper. She got expelled twice—once for each girl—and she never once regretted it. That’s just who she was: fiercely loyal, always protective, and endlessly caring, like the big sister you never had.

So, of course, you gave in. You took the ball from her hands, laughing as she bounced on her toes with excitement. Her Canarian accent always thickened when she got worked up, and you couldn’t help but think it sounded even more beautiful than usual.

In the background, unbeknownst to you, a Real Madrid agent had been watching.

You’d never played football before. Growing up, you were too afraid of being judged, of people labeling you as something you weren’t. The fear of being seen as "too masculine" or "lesbian" kept you on the sidelines, even though you secretly loved the sport. You only ever allowed yourself to enjoy it from a distance, never daring to join in, even during playground games. And even if you had wanted to, you knew your parents couldn’t afford to pay for football lessons.

It was Misa’s passion for the game, along with your own journey towards the acceptance of your lesbianism, that slowly helped you feel more comfortable with yourself. But by then, it was too late to learn—you had no idea how to play.

That’s why, when you took the ball and Misa urged you to take a few shots, you missed all three attempts. Both of you burst into laughter, treating it as nothing more than a silly game to pass the time. But just as you were about to leave, a woman approached you.

She introduced herself as Sara and began asking questions—your name, where you played, what position you were in. At first, you and Misa thought it was a joke. After all, Sara had just witnessed your disastrous technique. You played along, teasingly telling her you were Misa’s biggest rival, both of you laughing at the absurdity of it.

But then Sara started asking more specific questions, and it dawned on you that she was serious. You quickly apologized for joking and admitted the truth: you’d never played football before.

To your surprise, Sara didn’t seem fazed. She insisted on scheduling an appointment to see more of you. You had no idea why she was so interested, but Misa’s piercing stare made it clear that refusing wasn’t an option. Denying the request would’ve driven her crazy, so for the sake of your friend, you reluctantly agreed.

At the appointment, Sara closely analyzed your movements. You felt completely out of place, convinced this had to be some kind of elaborate joke you weren’t in on. You struggled to keep up—missing the ball, running out of breath quickly, and looking utterly lost most of the time. It was embarrassing, to say the least.

A few days later, Sara asked you to come back. That’s when she dropped the bombshell: she wanted to sign you to Real Madrid. She made it clear that you’d be starting from scratch, and it would take years of hard work to even dream of making it to the first team. But she believed in you—enough to set an ambitious goal: she wanted you to debut by the age of twenty-two. Surprisingly, you managed to do it a year earlier.

Your playing time was limited, especially in high-stakes matches. Sara was cautious about putting you under too much pressure too soon. Real Madrid’s women’s team wasn’t a powerhouse, and she wanted to shield you from the weight of failure. That’s why you didn’t play in the Copa de la Reina final, where Real Madrid came agonizingly close to winning their first title, only to lose to Atletico de Madrid. You also sat out the matches against FC Barcelona, and honestly, you were grateful for it. You watched Barça evolve, seeing the names of players who came and went: Lieke Martens, Jenni Hermoso, Asisat Oshoala, Aitana, Patri, Graham, Pinà… and Alexia.

Since entering the world of women’s football, you’d studied Alexia closely. She was the epitome of perfection—a relentless winner with an insatiable hunger for success. Her passion for the game was unmatched, and it drove everything she did.

To your astonishment, you were called up for a few friendly matches ahead of the World Cup. It was your chance to prove how far you’d come. Your improved physique and growing understanding of the game shone through, and after a standout performance, you earned your spot on the World Cup roster.

Your inclusion raised eyebrows. You’d only played two matches with the National team and had limited experience with Real Madrid’s first team, mostly featuring in their youth categories. But you were determined to make the most of the opportunity.

During the first training session, you stuck to Misa’s side like glue. You’d already met Jenni and Laia during the friendly matches, and they’d been incredibly supportive. But Alexia was a different story. She arrived late, still recovering from a long-term injury, but she was ready for the World Cup.

The first time you saw her, it felt like witnessing a celestial being. Her bright pink hair framed her face, and her eyes seemed to light up the room. She was warm and approachable as she introduced herself.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said, glancing at her teammates with a smile.

Your cheeks burned red. Misa, standing beside you, bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. She knew all about your crush on Alexia, and she wasn’t about to let you live it down.

Alexia was an absolute sweetheart, always going out of her way to help you. She became so invested in you that she couldn’t help the feelings that began to grow. The tournament ended with your victory over England, and you scored the most crucial goal of the match. Over time, you and Alexia grew so close that the thought of returning to your separate lives filled you both with anxiety. Fortunately, you had one last chance to spend time together—the trip to Ibiza—and you made the most of every moment.

Afterward, you returned to your routine: striving to improve at Real Madrid B, focusing on your studies, and catching glimpses of Alexia whenever your paths crossed during national team camps.

You watched FC Barcelona thrive, and a pang of envy crept in, wishing you could one day celebrate such victories with your own team.

As time passed, you turned twenty-two, sitting on the bench as your team suffered yet another defeat in El Clásico. What hurt the most was seeing Misa’s disappointment. Your body ached to step onto the pitch, but your mind held you back..

It wasn’t until Spain’s Supercopa final, with your team trailing by three goals and forty-five minutes still on the clock, that something inside you snapped. You didn’t know what came over you, but you stood up, driven by an unshakable determination. You practically begged your coach to let you on the pitch, to at least try to lessen the blow, even if it meant losing by just one goal.

Alexia watched as you prepared to step in, and her heart ached. She thrived on Real Madrid’s defeats, but the hatred she held for the team paled in comparison to the love she felt for you. Her mind was set on scoring, even if it was just once, but her heart wanted to pull you off the field. She wanted to humiliate Real Madrid, not you. To her, you were different—you always had been.

When you were subbed in, you delivered a stunning performance, scoring and assisting to help your team clinch their first title. It was a wild, unforgettable display, fueled by your desire to see Misa succeed. It was an unusual philosophy, but Misa was everything to you in football. Even as you wore the Real Madrid badge on your chest, right on top of the area of your heart, where Alexia belonged, Misa was the one who dominated your thoughts. You had stood by her side through every defeat, every heartbreak, every moment when the weight of the game seemed too heavy to bear. Each loss had carved a little piece out of you, not because you were the one on the field, but because you felt her pain as if it were your own. She was more than just your best friend—she was your closest friend.

But this time was different. This time, you weren’t just watching her fight—you were watching her soar. The cup gleamed in her hands, a symbol of everything she had worked for, everything she had sacrificed. The smile on her face wasn’t just one of victory; it was one of triumph over every doubt, every setback, every moment when the world had tried to tell her she wasn’t enough. And as you stood there, watching her bask in the glory of her hard-earned success, you felt a surge of pride so overwhelming it brought tears to your eyes.

This was everything. This was the moment you had been waiting for, not for yourself, but for her. You had seen the sleepless nights, the endless training sessions, the quiet moments when she questioned if it was all worth it. And now, as she lifted the cup high, her laughter ringing out like music, you knew it was. Every drop of sweat, every tear, every ounce of pain had led her here, to this pinnacle of joy.

You caught sight of Alexia’s sad expression, and it weighed heavily on you. You moved closer, but she stopped you, forcing a small, fake smile and telling you to celebrate your victory and enjoy the moment.

In that moment, as she lost and you won, she felt like she had lost you too. She had lost herself in you, and now, in defeat, she was determined to find herself again. But rediscovering herself meant letting you go. She had to lose you to find who she was.

#alexia putellas x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader #misa rodriguez imagine #misa rodriguez x reader #alexia putellas imagine

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