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luxerians · 20 hours ago

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The Last Mask (17.2)

Hwang In-ho/Oh Young-il/Player 001 x Reader

Chapter 17.2 - Keep You From Burning [NSFW]

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 18

PREV : Chapter 16

SFW ver. : Chapter 17.1

[Hwang In-ho’s Flashback…]

Hwang In-ho stood among the desperate, the hopeless, the damned. The neon glow of the voting panel illuminated the sea of green tracksuits, reflecting off the dull, exhausted eyes of players who had just witnessed how real this game was. He exhaled slowly, suppressing the satisfaction curling in his chest.

This was why he had come. To witness this firsthand. To prove that Seong Gi-hun’s naïve idealism was nothing more than a delusion. That these people weren’t victims. They were willing participants.

Gi-hun had begged them to quit, to see reason. But several players had openly rebuked and reprimanded him. Even when he admitted that he had won these games before, some didn’t believe him. Many doubted him. Then, player 100, a man drowning in a 10-billion debt, spoke up.

“Then let’s use him,” he declared, looking around the crowd. “If he really won, then he knows how to survive. We can use him to win this together.”

A murmur of consideration spread through the players. That’s when In-ho heard a scoff. Heads turned, including his, and he spotted her among the X zone. Player 423.

She looked out of place here. She didn’t look like someone who had been swallowed by debt. Even the way she carried herself was different. Calm, assessing, like she had already weighed all possible outcomes.

She met player 100’s eyes and spoke evenly. “Do you really think the next games will be exactly the same as before? They know there’s a previous winner here. They’re not going to let him give us an advantage. The games could be entirely different tomorrow, but we know one thing. Elimination means death. We should prioritize surviving over chasing money.”

In-ho watched closely, intrigued. Well, at least someone is using their brain here. But he knew it wouldn’t matter. The greedy always drowned out the rational.

And just as he expected, her words weren’t met with agreement. The desperate fools snapped back, dismissing her concerns. Their desire for wealth overrode logic. It was pathetic, really.

He glanced at Gi-hun, eager to see that moment of despair in his face. See? he thought. They don’t want to be saved. They never did. Gi-hun’s righteous crusade was laughable. He had come in, thinking he could be a hero, but these people weren’t his followers. They were gamblers who had already decided to risk it all.

Gi-hun moved to the back of the room, toward the unvoted players. A last attempt to change their minds. Desperate, In-ho mused. Pitiful.

Before Gi-hun could reach them, a triangle guard stepped forward and raised an MP5. The room tensed as Gi-hun froze, slowly raising his hands in surrender.

“From here on, we will not tolerate actions that disrupt the voting process,” the square-masked guard announced coldly.

In-ho smirked, barely hiding his satisfaction. There it is. The proof. You thought they were forced into this? That they were victims? Look at them, Gi-hun. They chose this. Just like they always will.

So much for ‘forced into it.’

Minutes into the vote, a slight movement came among the crowd of players in the X zone, and player 423 appeared. She moved quietly, heading straight for Gi-hun, who still had an MP5 aimed at him. Without hesitation, she reached for his sleeve and grasped it.

She spoke softly, “Come on. Let’s go back in.”

Just like that, the soldier lowered their weapon, no longer seeing Gi-hun as a threat. Without another word, the latter followed 423 back into the X zone.

In-ho’s dark eyes noticed how several players were staring at you with lingering look.

His turn to vote came quickly. Stepping up to the voting counter as player 001, he briefly wondered if Gi-hun would grow suspicious of him. The last time Gi-hun played these games, player 001 had been Oh Il-nam – the host of the Squid Game in South Korea.

With a neutral expression, In-ho pressed O.

A roar of cheers erupted from the O players behind him. Greedy fools, celebrating their own downfall. With his back facing the crowd, his lips curled into a smirk. These people had chosen this. Gi-hun’s attempt at playing the hero had been nothing but a joke. They weren’t forced. They weren’t trapped. They were exactly where they wanted to be.

He spun around, his gaze immediately landing on Gi-hun. The man stood still, eyes cast downward, shoulders heavy with the weight of failure. In-ho’s smirk deepened. There it is, he thought. That crushing realization. You’re not the hero they wanted, Gi-hun. You’re just another fool who thought he could change them.

But before he could fully savor the sight, player 423 nudged Gi-hun gently, whispering something to him. Without hesitation, Gi-hun and player 390 turned and followed her back to their corner.

In-ho’s eyes stayed on player 423.

Is she the type to keep propping him up? To keep feeding his delusions? He had seen it before. People clinging to the idea of hope, of salvation. Was she one of them? Or was she something else entirely?

For now, he would watch. He had time, after all.

***

“Help us then, sir.”

Gi-hun, player 423, and 390 looked up. Gi-hun’s expression hardened immediately, but player 390 and 423 studied In-ho more carefully. Gi-hun didn’t respond at first. He seemed content to ignore them. But In-ho knew how to get him to talk.

He just had to appeal to his ‘heroism.’

So, he did. “Honestly, I was scared. I wanted to quit and leave. But you made me think maybe I could play just one more game.”

That got Gi-hun’s attention. Just as expected.

Before Gi-hun could respond, player 423 spoke up, her voice calm but pointed. “Looks like it’s a bad idea revealing you’re a previous winner.”

In-ho almost smirked.

Gi-hun turned to player 423. “I thought it would make everyone understand… that everyone here is doomed to die as long as we stay here.”

Player 423 nodded silently, accepting Gi-hun’s reasoning, before glancing over at In-ho. Their eyes met, and she held the contact for a moment before looking away, almost bashfully.

In-ho didn’t break his gaze, but when she finally looked away, he turned back to Gi-hun and laid out his first trap. “Sir, you know which game’s next, don’t you?”

Gi-hun fell for it and announced to everyone nearby that the next game would be Dalgona.

“Four shapes? Which was the easiest one?” player 390 asked quickly.

“Triangle.”

“Which was the hardest?” 390 pressed.

“Umbrella.”

“Umbrella?” In-ho scoffed, a mocking smile tugging at his lips. “Some people actually chose umbrella? Those unlucky bastards must have bitten the dust.”

Gi-hun looked at him pointedly, obviously feeling the jab. In-ho held his stare, enjoying the brief flicker of irritation.

As player 100 suggested keeping this information to themselves, Gi-hun spoke up “heroically”, stating that he was sharing it with everyone in order to save their lives.

“And we don’t even know if the next game will really be Dalgona,” player 423 added.

In-ho glanced at her again. She wasn’t wrong. So far, she was the only one who had spoken with intelligence and logic in this room.

After a while, all of the other players left the corner except for In-ho. He carefully observed the three individuals in Gi-hun's small group. It is time to become part of his inner circle, he thought.

Once he got an opportunity to slip in, In-ho finally spoke up, asking why Gi-hun came back after winning. Gi-hun explained that he saw the money as belonging to the people who had died in the game.

In-ho thought Gi-hun’s guilt was pointless. He told him that feeling bad wouldn’t bring anyone back, but Gi-hun argued that if he had voted for X, they could have all escaped. In-ho calmly reminded him that 186 players had chosen to stay, proving that they wanted to be there.

The tension between them grew as Gi-hun refused to change his mind. He still believed he could save people. Before the argument could get worse, player 390 stepped in, telling them to focus on surviving the next game instead.

In-ho smirked to himself. Gi-hun was easy to figure out. Full of guilt, easy to upset, and determined to be a hero. That made him the perfect person for In-ho to control.

“But we can’t always rely on him,” player 423 interjected. “He doesn’t need more pressure from everyone expecting too much from him.”

In-ho noted her words carefully. Unlike the others, she wasn’t looking for a leader to follow blindly. She understood the weight Gi-hun carried and didn’t want to add to it.

He had expected the usual desperation – the kind that turned people into obedient followers. Yet, here she was, pulling in the opposite direction. Did she genuinely care about Gi-hun’s well-being or was she trying to keep the focus off of him? Either way, it was something worth watching.

He kept his expression neutral, but inside, he calculated his next move. For now, he just listened. Observing. Waiting. Timing was everything.

In-ho sat quietly as player 388, now introducing himself as Kang Dae-ho, approached Gi-hun’s group with eagerness. He claimed they needed to stick together and quickly tried to integrate himself, offering a handshake. Player 390 wasn’t convinced and dismissed him with skepticism.

Dae-ho hesitated, scanning the group. He glanced briefly at In-ho, who kept his head lowered, and then at Gi-hun, who barely acknowledged him. But then his eyes landed on player 423. She was the only one who didn’t look at him with doubt and In-ho watched closely as she accepted his handshake. He found her openness naïve but useful. She was clearly someone people gravitated toward.

Soon enough, Dae-ho and player 390 fell into an exaggerated display of military pride, loudly exchanging salutes and class numbers.

In-ho kept his expression neutral when player 423 asked whether Marines commonly got tattoos like that.

Seeing an opportunity to reinforce his harmless old-man act, In-ho spoke, “It’s not officially required, but many in the ROKMC see it as a tradition.”

She nodded in understanding, her curiosity seemingly satisfied.

In-ho watched as she turned away from the over-the-top military display between player 390 and 388. Unlike the others, she didn’t seem easily swept up in pointless distractions. She began cleaning up her lunchbox, taking slow sips from her water bottle, before glancing at him.

“Have you eaten already?” she asked casually.

He met her gaze and gave a warm, practiced smile. “Yes, I have.”

She nodded, returning his smile without hesitation. “Good. The food they prepared for us was worth it. It’s a waste not to eat it.”

In-ho felt amused. This will be the last time you will have proper meal, he thought.

Then, shifting her attention, she looked at Gi-hun’s untouched lunchbox. “You need to eat, sir. It’s better to mull things over with a full stomach.”

Gi-hun hesitated but finally complied, opening his lunchbox and eating without a word. In-ho took note of this. Although this was their first time meeting each other, player 423 had an influence over Gi-hun. Her words made him act. That was useful.

A moment later, she leaned slightly closer to him, lowering her voice. “By the way, do you know where the ladies’ restroom is?”

He gestured toward the right side of the main double doors. “That one there. The other is for the men.”

“Oh, thanks. Wouldn’t want to get lost and get shot by the guards.”

As player 423 chuckled lightly at her own joke, In-ho noticed – again – a few men sent glances at you from behind.

In-ho turned his attention back on you and smiled in hilarity. “I’m sure the guards would bring you back here if you were lost.”

She chuckled softly. “That’s comforting to know.”

Their exchange was simple, but it caught his attention. She appeared cautious and not foolishly overconfident either. Despite the situation, she managed to maintain a ray of smiles. In-ho couldn't help but assume that she was the type to hide her fear and dread behind a facade of happiness and reassurance.

“If you don’t mind me asking… why did you come here?” he asked, his voice gentle.

For the first time, she hesitated. Gi-hun, who had been listening, turned his head slightly, but said nothing. Then, with a fake smile In-ho caught on right away, she answered, “I needed the money.”

Predictable. Everyone here did. But he wanted more. “That’s all of us. But if I may say… I’m surprised. A lady like you shouldn’t have to bear the burden of crippling debt.”

Something shifted in her expression. The polished calm wavered just slightly.

She looked away, her gaze falling to the floor. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter. “The debts are my parents’, actually.”

In-ho studied you carefully. The way you hesitated, how your eyes darted away. It told him something. There was more to your story, more than just a desperate need for money. He filed the observation away, storing it for later. You weren’t like the others. They were here to survive for themselves. But you? You carried a weight that wasn’t entirely your own.

He had seen people like you before. People who took on burdens that weren’t theirs to carry, who fought battles that weren’t meant to be their own. It made them strong in some ways, but vulnerable in others. A person like that could break under the wrong kind of pressure.

Then, a fight had broken out on the other side of the dormitory. Player 333 was on the floor, getting beaten by player 230 and his lackey (124). The crowd did nothing, just stood there, frozen with fear or disinterest. Even player 390 and Dae-ho, who had been loud moments before, simply watched, their sleeves still rolled up, tattoos exposed.

Then, player 423 spoke. “Good thing I finished eating. Still, ganging up on him is just unfair.”

Her words made In-ho glance at her. She seemed frustrated, maybe even considering stepping in. He realized this could be a chance to earn Gi-hun's group's trust. By stepping in first, he could present himself as someone reliable, someone worth keeping close.

In-ho stood up. He strode ahead, walking past player 390 and Dae-ho, approaching the unfair fight with steady steps.

He ultimately had to physically overpower the two bullies, which he did with ease that was almost comical. When he let go of player 230, the entire room erupted into cheers and praises.

In-ho observed the unexpected praise that followed. The applause and admiration were foreign to him in this environment. He hadn’t expected approval – only fear or wariness. Yet here they were, cheering. It reminded him of when he became a police officer, a job he had dedicated his entire youth to. Back then, the respect and admiration of others had felt earned, a validation of his sacrifice.

Even player 423 clapped, her expression genuine. She had no doubt taken note of his ability, but rather than suspicion, she responded with admiration.

As he walked back toward their corner, he caught player 390 and Dae-ho murmuring among themselves. Soon, he arrived at the corner, and both boys looked at him with newfound respect.

“Sir, that was incredible,” player 390 said, clearly impressed. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

Dae-ho added, “Seriously, the way you took them down without breaking a sweat. Are you some kind of martial artist or what?”

In-ho smiled, keeping the mystery alive. “Let’s just say I’ve picked up a thing or two along the way.”

The two men nodded in unison, seemingly satisfied.

“Man of mystery,” Dae-ho muttered appreciatively.

Player 423, however, leaned forward slightly. Her voice was softer and caring. “But you’re not hurt at all, right? You seemed upset.”

Her concern was unexpected. In-ho turned to her, meeting her gaze, and let his smile soften. “Not at all. I left and came back the same.”

Player 390 and Dae-ho continued to marvel at him, the earlier tension in the dormitory now fading. The fight had made its mark, and In-ho knew he had established himself as someone not to be underestimated. But player 423’s reaction lingered in his mind till that evening.

In-ho found out that player 423’s kindness and hesitation made her easy to manipulate. She was cautious but not distrustful, willing to take advice if it sounded reasonable. That was exactly the kind of person he needed to secure his place within Gi-hun’s group. If he played his role well – friendly, wise, and unassuming – he could ensure that no one suspected his true identity.

***

As the robotic voice announced the second game, instructing players to form teams of six, In-ho watched the tension rise. Player 390 immediately questioned Gi-hun about Dalgona, but before he could answer, player 100 and his group approached.

“Isn’t this the Dalgona game?” player 100 asked bluntly.

Gi-hun’s subdued response confirmed otherwise. The disappointment on his face was unmistakable. He had wanted to help, but the reality was settling in. The games weren’t the same to his past experience. In-ho smirked inwardly at Gi-hun’s naivety.

Player 100’s patience snapped. His frustration boiled over as he accused Gi-hun of misleading them. The anger in his voice drew attention, fueling the simmering tension in the room.

Before things could escalate further, player 423 spoke up. She directly challenged player 100, reminding him that she had warned the games wouldn’t be the same. In-ho watched with interest as she held her ground. But instead of backing down, player 100 turned his ire on her, mocking her intelligence and ridiculing her for speaking up.

In-ho couldn't help but notice player 423's shocked expression when the old man hurled his insults at her. She had been all smiles just moments before. Suddenly, he felt a spark ignite within him – something he hadn't felt since losing his job and his wife’s passing.

That's when he decided to intervene.

With measured steps, he positioned himself between them, his expression cold and dark. His voice carried quiet authority as he uttered a simple but firm warning: “That’s enough.”

Player 100 and his lackeys finally walked away, still clinging to their bravado, throwing sneers in Gi-hun’s direction. The moment they left, Gi-hun turned to his group and muttered an apology, guilt weighing heavy in his voice.

That was exactly the opening In-ho had been waiting for.

He stepped in first, his voice calm and reassuring, telling Gi-hun there was no need to apologize. He even expressed his hope to be on the same team with him. The reaction was immediate. Gi-hun looked at him in surprise as if struggling to believe that someone still trusted him after his miscalculation.

In-ho inwardly smiled. The doubt in Gi-hun’s eyes quickly melted into something closer to relief. He had taken the bait. Gaining trust this easily almost made In-ho pity him. Almost. But he wasn’t done yet. He had to play the long game, solidify himself as someone reliable, someone Gi-hun would lean on without question.

And when the time was right, Gi-hun would tell him everything. His plans, his thoughts, how he intended to stop this game operation.

All In-ho had to do was wait.

However, he didn’t take you into account.

Once Dae-ho left the circle to find another player for their team, Player 423 suddenly turned to In-ho, her expression soft, her eyes warm with quiet admiration. A small, sincere smile spread across her lips.

“By the way, thank you for the back-up.”

In-ho turned to her, momentarily caught off guard. The way she looked at him – tilting her head slightly, her gaze innocent – was the epitome of gratitude. There was no hesitation, no manipulation, no ulterior motive. Just pure appreciation, directed entirely at him.

It had been a long time since anyone had looked at him like this.

He had spent years living in cold detachment, watching people from behind a mask, always calculating his next move. Affection, trust, admiration. Those were tools to be used, emotions to manipulate. And yet, standing here, looking into her eyes, he felt something stir inside him. Something unfamiliar.

Warmth.

It was so human. He rarely allowed himself to feel anything beyond necessity, but this was different. It was a quiet reminder of who he had been before everything in his life fell apart.

Before he lost her.

His wife had once looked at him like this. And now, here was another girl whom he did not know the name yet, seeing him as just a man. A man worth looking at, worth appreciating. She unknowingly stirred that same feeling within him. It unsettled him yet he wanted to bask in it more.

In-ho returned the smile to smile. “It’s no problem. If he or his friends say anything rude or try to push you around, just tell me. I’ll protect you.”

In-ho took in the way her expression shifted – soft, unguarded, and almost shy. It was rare for him to be looked at like this, not with suspicion or calculation, but with something gentler, something warmer. He realized then that they had been holding eye contact for a long moment, neither of them breaking away.

His eyes traced the way hers flickered slightly, dipping down just for a second, to his lips, before returning to his gaze. He wasn’t sure if she even realized she had done it, but he had.

For once, he let himself linger in the moment. No plans, no calculations, no manipulations. It’s just the quiet, shared space between them. Because for the first time in a long while, he didn’t mind being seen like a normal person.

This would be for a short while, he thought. At least before her elimination… unless she ends up winning these games.

Dae-ho had secured another teammate – another Marine – and the group seemed satisfied. Then, a petite girl, player 222, approached and asked to join. When she revealed that she was pregnant, the entire circle instinctively glanced at her belly.

In-ho’s thoughts drifted for a moment. Had the recruiter known about her condition before she was pulled into the game? Perhaps not. She was small, and her belly wasn’t prominent. It was possible she had managed to hide it from everyone.

Then, before anyone else could respond, player 423 spoke up, “You know what? Take her and Mr. 096. I’ll go find another team.”

She was already stepping out of the circle when In-ho moved without thinking, his hand coming to rest gently on her shoulder.

It was instinctive. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but somewhere between the small moments they had shared, between her quiet strength and the warmth in her voice, she had become someone he wanted to keep close.

Could it be that he’s clinging onto something that made him feel warm and human after so many cold and isolated years? Or perhaps he at least wanted to bask in her warm embrace before she gets eliminated.

His fingers curled slightly, just enough to make sure she didn’t take another step. She turned, eyes wide in surprise, and that’s when he noticed another hand land on her other shoulder. Player 390. Then, Gi-hun and Dae-ho took a step forward.

In a tangle of overlapping words, all of them spoke at once, “No, no, no.”

***

[Back to present…]

The metallic rasp of the zipper filled the room as Young-il tugged it down. Your breath caught in your throat with each inch the fabric parted. The zipper stopped at your belly button, revealing your bra as the cool air kissed your newly exposed, sweaty skin.

Young-il broke the kiss only briefly to glare down and yank the jumpsuit off your shoulders with a sharp tug impatiently. It slid down your arms and past your elbows, catching for a moment on your wrists before you sat up and he released them from the confines of the garment. You lied back down with the sleeves puddling around your waist, revealing the creamy expanse of your skin.

Your breath came in short, sharp gasps, lips parted invitingly. Young-il wasted no time, capturing your mouth in another searing kiss. His lips moved demandingly against yours, tongue delving deep, exploring and claiming. You found yourself powerless to resist as your own tongue danced with his.

He rolled his hips against yours, pinning you beneath him as he savored the taste of your mouth. The heat of his body seared through the thick fabric of his black outfit. With his body pressing you down, you could feel every hard plane and angle of his body, the solid muscle beneath the material.

The kiss grew more urgent as if he was losing control. His hands roamed over your newly bared flesh. Gloved fingers skimmed over the soft swell of your breasts, grazing over nipples that pebbled under his touch. His thumbs circled the hardened peaks, teasing them to stiffness.

His hands then slid down to your hips, gripping the bunched up fabric of your jumpsuit. With a swift, impatient tug, he yanked the garment downwards, peeling it down. The material slid over your thighs, calves, and finally off your feet. He tossed the crumpled jumpsuit aside carelessly, leaving you bare before him except for your bra and panties.

You focused your gaze on Young-il’s face and was rendered breathless. His gaze darkened with lust as his eyes devoured every inch of your newly exposed skin. The dim light of his bedroom cast shadows that accentuated your curves, rendering you practically radiant to his hungry gaze. He leaned down, his breath hot against your neck before his lips found your flesh. He trailed open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat and the delicate line of your collarbone.

You turned your head to the side, a sudden bashfulness overcoming you as you whimpered almost inaudibly, “Wait... I'm sweaty. Let me take a shower first.”

“No need,” he breathed. He seemed undeterred. If anything, the sheen of sweat on your body only served to excite him further, highlighting the beauty of your form in the most intimate way.

His hands began to explore your naked body, his gloved fingers skimming over your skin. He traced the swell of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the flare of your hips. Each touch left a trail of goosebumps in its wake, your body responding eagerly to his caress.

Young-il's gloved fingers slid over the smooth fabric of your bra, tracing the delicate lace and satin that covered your breasts. With a quick flick of his wrist, he unhooked the clasp and tossed the garment aside, leaving you completely exposed to him.

His gaze lingered on your bare chest, his eyes taking in every detail as if committing it to memory. Your cheeks flushed with a delicate pink as you averted your gaze, your hands trembling slightly as they rested on either side of your head on the soft sheets. Your body was revealed in all its vulnerability as his heated and possessive gaze bore into you. You couldn't help but feel self-conscious under his intense scrutiny, your body still glistening with a light layer of sweat.

He reached out and gently squeezed your breast, causing it to pucker. Lowering his head, he traced a path between your breasts with his tongue, eliciting a soft moan from you as you arched closer to him.

He peppered kisses along the slope of your breast before taking one nipple into his mouth, sucking and playing it with his tongue. Whimpers and moans escaped your lips as your body responded to his touch. The room was filled with the rustling of sheets as you moved against them and the sound of his tongue flicking against your skin. The bed frame creaked as he shifted to better explore your body.

Without breaking eye contact with you, he let go of your wet nipple, saliva still connecting his mouth to your breast. You couldn’t help but stare at his eyes – dark and clouded with lust. He then moved to suckle on your other nipple, sending waves of pleasure through your body. His hands roamed over your skin, exploring every inch of you as he continued to trail kisses down your body.

He reached the waistband of your panties and hesitated for a moment, his dark gaze flicking up to meet yours. In their depths, you saw a swirl of hunger, of desire, of something almost primal. It made your heart race and your breath catch in your throat.

With a sudden jerk, his gloved hands grabbed at the edges of the fabric, pulling them down your thighs. You gasped as the cool air brushed against your exposed skin. He discarded the last piece of your clothing just as carelessly as he had done with your bra.

His gloved hands reached for your thighs and brought them up against your stomach, folding you in half. You yelped in surprise, the suddenness of his movement caught you off guard. You felt exposed and vulnerable in this intimate position. Your body was fully on display for him to see. It sent shivers down your spine.

His dark eyes clouded in arousal as he stared down at your exposed sex. The smooth skin and delicate folds of your lower lips were on full display. He reached out with a gloved hand and ran a single finger along your slit, feeling the heat radiating from your arousal. A low, approving groan rumbled in his chest.

You averted your eyes to the side. With a shy and almost embarrassed expression, you crossed your arms over your chest as if trying to regain some sense of modesty after being fully exposed. Your exposed breasts were pressed together under your arms.

With his hands on the back of your thighs, he pushed your legs further apart, opening you fully to his hungry gaze. His breath, hot and heavy with desire, fanned over your most intimate place. You shuddered, your hips twitching with anticipation.

Without warning, he leaned in and dragged the flat of his tongue along your folds, tasting your essence. A gasp of pleasure and shock escaped your lips. Your body jolted in pleasure, the rustling of sheets accompanied you, as your hands fisted in the sheets.

The wet, slick sound of his tongue moving over your folds was interspersed with quiet gasps and moans from both you and him. The wetness between your legs created a symphony of sensual sounds as he licked and sucked. You could hear the slight squelching noises as he delved deeper, his tongue flicking and circling your sensitive clit. As he drew more of your juices to the surface, your body thrashed in pleasure on the bed as he drove you towards bliss.

His hands gripped your thighs tighter, holding you in place as he feasted on you. You were helpless to do anything but feel, your body writhing with pleasure. Obscene slurping and sucking sounds filled the room as he ate you out with gusto.

You were locked in place and helpless. Your body twisted and writhed on the bed, unable to control the waves of ecstasy that washed over you. The sounds of wet licking and sucking filled the air, punctuated by your moans and gasps of pleasure. Each slurp and suck echoed off the walls, mixing with the rustling of sheets and your frenzied movements to create a soundtrack of lust and animalistic desire.

As your body began to quiver and your slick walls fluttered around his tongue, he sensed your impending climax. Your thighs trembled and clenched around his head as your moans grew louder and more desperate. The wetness between your legs increased, coating his chin and dripping down onto the sheets below.

He could feel your body tensing, your back arching off the bed as your climax approached. Your fingers tangled in the sheets, gripping them tightly as if trying to hold yourself in place. You were teetering on the brink, ready to plunge into the sea of ecstasy that awaited you.

Just as your orgasm was about to crash over you like a tidal wave, he suddenly pulled away. His face emerged from between your thighs, glistening with your essence. You let out a sound of dismay, your body still coiled and yearning for release. You turned to look at him, your eyes wide with distress. His eyes were dark and focused on you as he wiped your juices from his chin.

As soon as he saw the disappointment on your face, a smirk appeared on his lips. He said, “Not yet, sweetheart. I have another place for you to come all over.”

His words sent a thrill down your spine, your pussy clenching at the crude promise. You could feel the hard bulge of his arousal pressing insistently against your thigh, hot and thick even through his clothing.

Suddenly, he captured your mouth in a searing kiss, letting you taste yourself on his lips and tongue. A symphony of breathless moans and gasps filled the room, accompanied by the wet sounds of your kissing. Meanwhile, the rustle of fabric echoed in the room as their bodies pressed together, accompanied by his hands expertly moving and exploring her body, eliciting soft whimpers and sighs from her.

He suddenly pulled away from the intense kiss, leaving you breathless and wanting. You watched with heavy-lidded eyes as he leveraged himself up and knelt between your still-spread thighs.

His dark, intense gaze remained locked onto you as he slowly peeled off his gloves. The black leather fell away and he then began to remove his own clothing. He took off his black coat, revealing the toned muscle beneath inch by tantalizing inch. His chest was broad and defined. His abdominal muscles were still defined, but visible signs of aging could be seen. Despite everything, you still found him physically appealing. It was hard to believe that he hid all of that under his player's tracksuit and all-black outfit.

Next, he undid his belt, the jingle of the buckle echoing in the otherwise quiet room. He withdrew from the bed and stood. Now that he no longer held or pinned your body to the bed, your legs finally found their way back to resting on the bed after being folded and then spread out. He stepped out of the pants and kicked them aside. Left in only his black boxers, the prominent outline of his thick erection strained against the fabric.

His eyes never left yours as he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers and slowly drew them down. Your breath caught in your throat as inch after inch of his hard, thick cock was revealed. It sprang free, long and heavy, the swollen head already glistening with arousal.

He climbed back onto the bed. His hands gripped your legs apart and pinned them to either side of his hips. Your slick, swollen folds were laid bare before him, glistening with your arousal.

Young-il paused for a moment, admiring the sight of your needy, dripping sex. His dark eyes flicked up to meet yours, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. Without warning, he flicked your sensitive clit with the pad of his thumb, making you gasp and buck against his touch.

He flicked it again, and again, each snap of his fingers sending jolts of electricity through your core. You writhed beneath him, your back arching off the bed as you struggled to maintain control. Just as you thought you couldn't take anymore, he surprised you by slipping a finger deep inside your tight channel.

Your walls clenched around the sudden intrusion, drawing his finger in deeper. A low moan spilled from your lips as he began to pump his finger in and out, stroking that secret spot inside you that made your toes curl. He watched your face intently, drinking in every flicker of pleasure and need that crossed your expression. Without warning, he added a second finger, stretching you further, filling you more. Your hips bucked upwards in response, seeking more of this delicious friction.

His fingers pumped faster, thrusting deeper, stroking your silken walls with ruthless precision. The obscene sound of wet flesh slapping against flesh filled the room as he fingered you with increasing speed. His thumb circled your clit mercilessly, pushing you closer and closer to the precipice.

Young-il could feel your body tensing, your walls fluttering around his plunging fingers. He knew you were close, teetering on the brink of ecstasy. His eyes darkened with lust and hunger as he watched your face contort in pleasure. He curled his fingers just right, rubbing against that spot that made you see stars.

Just as your climax was about to overtake you, Young-il suddenly withdrew his fingers. Your walls clenched desperately around the sudden emptiness, aching for his touch. Your eyes blew wide and mouth fell open in disbelief at the cruel timing.

He smirked down at you, a wicked glint in his dark eyes, as he watched the disappointment and frustration play out across your beautiful face.

His hands gripped your hips tightly, thumbs digging into the soft skin as he leaned down to your mouth.

“Patience, flower,” he said, his voice a low, seductive growl that sent shivers down your spine despite the frustration coursing through your veins.

Suddenly, he gripped your hips, fingers sinking into the soft flesh of your ass. With a sharp tug, he spread your thighs even wider, opening you fully to him. Your slick folds glistened in the low light, quivering with a desperate need that only he could satisfy at this moment.

He positioned himself between your legs, the thick head of his cock brushing against your needy clit. The contact made you gasp as your hands dug into the sheets. Slowly and deliberately, he rubbed the tip of his member along your slit, coating it in your slick arousal.

Your breathing became labored as everything came crashing down on you. This is finally happening, you thought. You had never done this and had fought hard to protect yourself and your body. Now, you were willing to let it all go and open yourself up to the man you had fallen deeply in love with.

He gripped your hips tightly, fingers sinking into the supple flesh as he slowly pushed forward. The thick head of his cock stretched your slick folds open as he began to enter you inch by delicious inch. Your walls fluttered and clenched around his hardening length, drawing him deeper.

Halfway inside, he suddenly leaned down, folding your body in half. Your thighs pressed tight against your abdomen as he crashed his lips against yours in a searing kiss. Shock jolted through you at the sudden onslaught, but you found yourself welcoming his invading tongue with an open mouth.

As he plundered your mouth, claiming you thoroughly, he thrust forward harder. More of his thick cock speared into your tight heat, stretching you wider around his rigid flesh. Overwhelmed, your mind hazed with sensation. You released the sheets and wrapped your arms around his back, inadvertently scratching him in the process. You could only cling to him as he slowly, relentlessly filled you.

His tongue dominated your mouth, absorbing your muffled moans and whimpers. Your body trembled, back arching as he sunk into your silken depths. The mix of foreign sensations – his tongue conquering your mouth, his cock conquering your pussy – left you dizzy and breathless. The wet sounds of his deep, filthy kiss and the obscene squelches of his cock sinking into your dripping cunt filled the room.

He didn't stop until he was balls deep, his pelvis flush against yours, his heavy sack resting against your ass, and the tip of his cock hitting your cervix. He broke the kiss, both of you panting harshly as you struggled to catch your breath. His dark eyes burned into yours, pupils blown wide with lust and desire.

For a long moment, he simply held you there, buried to the hilt in your quivering heat. The thick weight of his cock pulsed inside you, stirring your insides and claiming you utterly. Then, with a satisfied smirk, he began to move.

He began to move, slow and gentle at first. The thick head of his cock dragged against your inner walls as he withdrew until just the tip remained inside. Then he slammed back in, sheathing himself fully in your slick heat once more in one powerful thrust. He repeated the same action, each thrust causing your breasts to bounce and sway alluringly.

He suddenly pulled away from you, causing your arms to slip off his back. Then, he gripped the backs of your thighs and pressed them against your stomach, folding you in half. You whimpered in surprise. His pace began to increase, his strokes growing longer and harder. His movements became more forceful, rougher and quicker. With every deep thrust, your moans grew louder and more distinct, escaping from your lips uncontrollably.

The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin. Each thrust was accompanied by a groan of pleasure from him and a gasp or moan from you. The bed shook and creaked under the force of his powerful thrusts. The grip of his hands on your thighs tightened possessively. As he held you in place, all you could hear was the symphony of pleasure and desire between two bodies lost in the heat of passion.

Out of the blue, he leaned over, bracing himself with his hands on either side of your head. It was as if he wanted to be the only one to see you in this world, mounting and claiming you possessively. His eyes, once filled with ruthlessness and fury towards his opponents, were now darkened with an intense and unquenchable desire for you. You couldn't help but wonder if he had been holding back all this time. After all, you had caught him stealing glances at your lips on multiple occasions.

His movements were unrelenting, forcing you to slide up the bed with each forceful thrust of his hips. But he didn't let go completely; he held onto your hips, pulling you back onto him in a never-ending rhythm.

His form hovered over you, his sweat-slick skin glistening in the dim light of the room. With every thrust, his chest and abs flexed, his face contorted in pleasure. You could see the veins popping in his arms as he pounded into you unceasingly. The sheets twisted and bunched beneath your bodies, evidence of the intense passion between you.

Your body was on fire, every nerve ending tingling with the delicious friction of him moving inside you. The feeling of being filled so completely was incredible, more than anything you could have imagined. The sensation was intense, too much and yet not enough all at once.

Eventually, his desire became too overwhelming for him to control any longer. His hips slammed into yours with brutal force, the obscene slap of flesh on flesh echoing through the room. Each thrust punched the air from your lungs, replaced by strangled cries and whimpers. Your breasts bounced wildly, the movement sending ripples across your soft skin.

The room was filled with the rapid rhythm of your bodies colliding, the wet and primal sounds of skin on skin. The creaking of the bed frame and the rustling of sheets were accompanied by your shared moans and gasps. With each forceful thrust, the air was knocked out of your lungs, leaving you breathless and desperate for more. Your body moved in perfect symphony with his as they danced together in a frenzy of passion and desire.

Young-il withdrew his hands from the sheets and gripped your thighs hard enough to bruise, fingers sinking into your tender flesh. He pushed your knees up to your chest, nearly folding you in half as he loomed over you. His eyes blazed with feral hunger, drunk on the sight of your body surrendering to his dominant thrusts.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he snarled, voice ragged with lust. “Fucking tight and wet, squeezing all over my cock.”

He punctuated his words with a particularly rough thrust, burying himself balls deep. Your cheeks turned a deep shade of red as you looked away shyly. You were surprised that he could speak to you in such a provocative manner. It was incredibly alluring and it only served to make you even more aroused.

Slick, obscene squelches and wet slaps filled the air as he took you with animalistic fervor. The bed shook and shuddered, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful drive of his hips. Sweat dripped down his chest and abs, his skin glistening in the dim light.

He angled his hips, changing the trajectory of his thrusts. The new position allowed him to strike that sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside you with every slam of his pelvis against yours. Sparks exploded behind your eyelids as pleasure bordered on pain, your body writhing beneath his relentless assault.

The wet slaps of your bodies colliding filled the room, mixing with your gasps for air and the occasional grunt from him. Each thrust elicited a shy and breathless “Ah!” from you, punctuating the symphony of your fucking. Despite your attempts to stifle them, the moans escaped your lips uncontrollably.

Young-il's grunts turned guttural and harsh as his thrusts grew more erratic. The bed springs creaked and groaned under the force of his movements, the headboard slamming rhythmically into the wall. The air was thick with the musky scent of sex and sweat, the sounds of your coupling echoing obscenely in the room.

He leaned in close, baring his teeth and sinking them into the tender skin where your neck and shoulder met. You gasped as a sharp pain shot through you. Despite the discomfort, your body arched instinctively, pressing closer to him. He bit down firmly, but not enough to draw blood. His hips continued their relentless rhythm against yours, driving you further into the bed. Your hands reached out and grasped at his back, leaving red marks in your ecstasy.

Young-il released your neck, a deep mark indented in your skin where his teeth had been. His dark eyes, wild and intense, bored into yours. Without warning, he grabbed your thighs, hands gripping the backs of them tightly.

“Spread your legs more for me,” he commanded huskily. He didn't wait for a response before using his grip to fold your legs up and back, essentially bending you in half. Your knees pressed to your breasts as he held you in a mating press.

This position allowed him to sink even deeper into your core. Each powerful thrust now kissed your cervix, sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your body. The headboard slammed rhythmically against the wall as he rutted into you like a man possessed.

His face hovered inches from yours, eyes blazing with a dark and primal hunger. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin, could see the sweat dripping down his chiseled jawline. His breathing came in harsh pants, each exhale hot against your lips.

His hips never ceased their relentless rhythm as he grunted, “Such a good little girl, so tight and perfect.”

He released your thigh with one hand and used it to forcefully grip your chin, turning your face to meet his gaze. Your eyes were heavy-lidded with extreme pleasure. Your mouth was already open, filled with moans and gasps, and he took advantage of the opportunity to press his lips against yours. His tongue darted into your mouth as he continued thrusting his hips into you. The intense kiss only added to the sensations of pleasure coursing through your body.

You were overwhelmed as he slammed into you, simultaneously devouring your mouth. The only thing you could do was to scratch his back in an attempt to alleviate the sensation.

Young-il’s hips surged forward with wild abandon, the obscene slap of flesh against flesh echoing through the room. The bedsprings screamed in protest with each powerful thrust. His cock pounded into your soaked, clinging heat, the veiny shaft stretching you exquisitely.

Drunk on lust, he gripped your thigh with his other hand, holding you in place as he rutted into you like a man possessed. The new angle allowed him to strike your cervix dead-on, each brutal thrust sending waves of intense sensation crashing through your core.

Your body started to quake and tremble, your walls beginning to flutter around his plunging cock. The pressure built rapidly, your climax fast approaching. Obscene, choked moans spilled from your lips, mixing with the animalistic grunts tearing from Young-il's throat.

The room filled with a symphony of carnal noises – the wet slap of skin on skin, the creaking of the abused bed, the panting breaths and garbled cries of two people lost in the throes of passion. Young-il's eyes flashed wild and feral as they drilled into yours, his handsome face contorted in pleasure.

“I'm close,” he snarled through gritted teeth. “Come for me. Come.”

His command, coupled with the relentless pounding of his hips, sent you hurtling over the edge. Your vision exploded in a kaleidoscope of color as your orgasm crashed over you, wave after wave of sheer ecstasy consuming your body. Your nails raked down his sweat-slicked back as you clung to him, back arching as your walls clenched viciously around his pistoning shaft.

As your climax overtook you, Young-il let out a loud groan. His hips stuttered, losing rhythm as the first hot spurts of his release shot forth. The sensation of his thick seed painting your insides pushed you into a second, even more devastating orgasm. Your body seized and trembled, back arching clean off the bed as you screamed your pleasure.

He collapsed against you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, pinning you as he emptied himself inside your spasming cunt. Each twitch of his cock was followed by another gush of potent cum, flooding your womb until you swore you could feel it sloshing inside you.

He buried his face against your neck, panting harshly as the final waves of his climax rolled through him. Slowly, his movements slowed to shallow, lazy thrusts as he rode out the aftershocks.

The two of you remained entwined, him still buried deep inside your quivering heat. His weight pressed you into the mattress, the heat of his skin seeping into yours. The room was filled with the sound of ragged breathing – yours mingling with his – as you both struggled to regain composure in the aftermath of your intense lovemaking.

Young-il lifted his head slowly, his dark gaze meeting yours. There was a new softness in his eyes, a tenderness that wasn't usually present. A small, satisfied smile played on his lips as he took in your dazed and blissed-out expression. He brushed a few damp tendrils of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, voice low and rough from their exertions.

He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, his breath tickling your skin as he let out a soft sigh of contentment. His lips brushed against the tender skin there, pressing a kiss onto the bite mark he had left earlier. A shiver ran through you at the intimate touch and a satisfied hum resonated from deep within him.

“My flower,” he murmured, his voice muffled by your skin. His hands ghosted down your sides, tracing small circles over your overheated flesh.

Turning his head slightly, Young-il pressed another kiss to your shoulder before pulling out of you slowly. It was a sweet discomfort that had you gripping his arms tightly, biting back a low moan.

He rolled over onto his back, drawing you into his embrace. Your head fell onto his heaving chest, your body still shaking with the remnants of your climax. His hand moved to soothe your trembling limbs, fingers drawing slow, calming circles on your skin.

“Breathe,” he murmured, his tone soft as if he was afraid to break the spell of the moment. The rhythm of his heart thrumming underneath your ear was a soothing lullaby that began to lull you into a state of drowsy relaxation.

Your body was achy and sated, and the pleasant throb between your thighs was a testament to Young-il’s fervor. You could still feel the remnants of his release trickling from you and soaking into the sheets below. It was dirty and obscene but also incredibly intimate in a way that made heat bloom in your cheeks.

The both of you lay naked on the bed, your head resting against his chest as you side-hugged him. His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, a rhythmic lull that should have calmed you. He lay on his back, fingers trailing slow, absentminded strokes along your damp skin. His gaze – now relaxed – was fixed on the ceiling, while your heavy-lidded eyes remained locked on the wall.

Your bodies glowed in the dim light, entwined beneath tangled sheets. The rise and fall of his chest beneath you was grounding, steady. Yet, beneath that warmth, doubt festered.

Your mind churned with conflicting emotions. You finally got to think clearly. Relief, disbelief, betrayal, longing. You had surrendered to him too easily. You had given in to his touch, his presence, before you had the chance to fully comprehend the weight of his revelation. He wasn’t just Young-il, the man who protected you, the man who made you feel safe. He was him. The orchestrator of this entire operation. The one who had watched hundreds of players fall, one by one.

Your stomach twisted as your thoughts tangled further. Was he lying when he said he cared for you? Had everything that two of you had been a calculated act?

You shifted slightly, your breath hitching as you swallowed back the lump in your throat. His fingers, still ghosting over your back, stilled for just a moment before resuming their slow, deliberate movements. Did he know what you were thinking? Was he waiting for you to speak?

You wanted answers. You needed them. But at the same time, you feared them.

The quiet stretched between you both, thick with unspoken words. Eventually, you knew you had to be the one to break the silence. He probably expected you to drift off to sleep after the rigorous love-making, to let exhaustion override any lingering thoughts. Maybe he wanted you to be too spent to question him, too vulnerable to resist whatever control he had over you.

But you weren’t about to let that happen.

You lay still for a moment, staring at the wall, gathering your thoughts. There were too many questions, too many emotions swirling inside you, but you needed to start somewhere. Pushing aside the heaviness in your chest, you finally spoke.

“This is the second time you did this.”

His fingers, still idly tracing patterns along your skin, stopped. You felt him glance at you, questioning, but you kept your gaze fixed on the wall ahead, unwilling to meet his eyes just yet.

“You tried to divert my attention from anything shady you did,” you continued, your voice quiet. “First was during the Mingle game when you kissed me after killing Min-jae. And now… now this is the second time.”

Silence again. A heavier one this time. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, like a presence pressing down against you even though he hadn’t moved. His breath was steady and measured, but you knew he was thinking. Calculating.

Finally, he exhaled slowly. “You think I’m trying to manipulate you?”

You let out a short, humorless laugh, still refusing to look at him. “Aren’t you?”

His fingers moved again, this time gliding up your arm as if trying to test the boundaries of your trust. “Back then, I was. I didn't want you to be frightened of me.”

“Then what about now?” you inquired, turning your head slightly and finally locking eyes with him. The intensity of his stare made your breath hitch, but you refused to back down.

He stared at you quietly for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without a word, he leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. The warmth of his lips contrasted with the cool air around you, sending a shiver down your spine.

When he pulled away, his voice was low but steady. “I miss you. You ran away and hid from me. I was worried. But now that you’re here, I’m glad.”

His words wrapped around you, heavy with emotion and something unspoken, something deeper. His tone was firm, yet there was an edge of vulnerability lurking beneath it – something he rarely let slip.

Your chest tightened, emotions warring inside you. The Young-il you knew – the one who had protected you, cared for you – still existed in those words, in that voice. But the Front Man, the orchestrator of these deadly games, was here too. And you didn’t know which one you were truly facing.

His fingers traced slow and random circles along your arm as he waited for you to respond. You swallowed hard, searching his face, but all you found was contradiction. A man who held power over life and death, yet who now lay beside you, speaking of protection as if it absolved him.

You averted your gaze, staring at the wall as your fingers curled against the sheets. Your voice was quiet but firm when you finally spoke. “So Young-il is not your real name?”

There was a pause as if he had expected this moment but still wasn’t quite ready for it. “No. My real name is Hwang In-ho.”

The name lingered between you, unfamiliar and yet deeply tied to the man beside you. You tried to process it, to match the name to the person you had come to know – the protector, the strategist, the liar.

“Why did you fake your name?” you turned your head slightly, enough to see the flicker of something in his eyes. Hesitation? Guilt?

His jaw tightened before he answered. “I needed to keep an eye on player 456.”

Your brow furrowed. “Gi-hun?”

He responded, “He’s been outspoken about stopping the games. Long before he ever stepped foot in here, he tried to chase me and the recruiter down. He made his intentions clear. So I disguised myself as a player, changed my name, and befriended him. I needed to find out what else he was planning.”

You stared at him, trying to reconcile the man who had watched over you, who had risked his life for you, with the one who had spent days lying to everybody, especially you. “So... you disguised yourself and fooled everyone. What about me? Was I just a part to make you look normal?”

His brows furrowed as he gripped your shoulder tenderly. “No. You were never part of the plan.”

He exhaled slowly as if bracing himself for something. “I didn’t expect to care about you the way I do.”

Your stomach twisted at his confession, torn between believing him and shielding yourself from the betrayal you felt. You wanted to demand more answers, to know how much of what you shared had been real. But part of you already knew the answer – his touch, his protection, his lingering gazes. Those couldn’t have been faked.

But that wasn’t the important thing. Your relationship with him, whatever it was, couldn’t matter more than the lives at stake – the players who were trapped in these games, fighting to survive. His games. The ones he managed, orchestrated, and upheld with unwavering authority.

You rose from his chest and sat up. In-ho stayed lying down but his gaze was locked with yours. You slightly turned your upper body to look at him and started, “So, what happens now? Do I pretend I don’t know any of this? Do I pretend that you're not the one pulling the strings? That you aren’t the reason so many people have died?”

His expression darkened, but not in anger. In resignation. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Is it?” you scoffed. “People are dying. And you—”

You clenched the sheets between your fingers, struggling to keep your voice steady. “You’re standing here like you have no choice. But you do.”

He exhaled sharply. “You don’t understand what’s at play here.”

“Then make me understand,” you challenged, finally turning to face him fully. “Make me understand why you’re doing this. Why you’re still here. Why you let me believe—”

He ran a hand down his face, the weight of your words pressing on him. “Because it’s not as simple as walking away. The moment I put on this mask and stepped into this role, I have a duty.”

You felt your stomach turn. “So you’re just going to let this continue? Let more people die? Let our friends die?”

His silence was deafening.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, before fixing him with a hard stare. “And what about them? Jun-hee, Yong-sik and his mother, Dae-ho, Jung-bae... even Gi-hun. Do you feel nothing for them? For what they're going through? They trusted you. Gi-hun trusted you as a friend. That mother prayed for your return. Do you not care that they’re still trapped in these games?”

His gaze flickered with something unreadable. “It’s not that simple.”

You sighed. “That’s all you ever say. But people are dying, and you’re letting it happen. You’re the one in charge. You could stop this.”

He exhaled through his nose, his voice quieter this time. “I don’t have the power you think I do.”

“Then who does?” you challenged. “The investors? The VIPs?”

Young-il’s gaze sharpened, something shifting behind his eyes as if realization had just struck him. He furrowed his eyebrows slightly before asking, “I assume you find out about VIPs from following me as a manager hours ago, but I don’t recall mentioning about their investment. Who told you?”

Your breath caught in your throat. The weight of his question pressed down on you. He studied your face closely as if searching for any cracks in your composure.

Then, his voice dipped lower, more controlled, more knowing. “I know you have friends among my guards. Who are they?”

Silence stretched between you. The air felt heavier, charged with an unspoken tension. You refused to answer, your mind racing through the consequences. You couldn't betray them. 011 and Gyeong-seok had risked so much for you already. The least you could do was protect them now.

You took a slow breath, steadying yourself. “Why does it matter? I watched you as a manager. I found out a lot of things. It’s obvious.”

Young-il’s expression darkened, his posture stiffening. “That’s not an answer. Someone among my guards helped you with your disguise.”

You forced yourself to hold your ground, refusing to give him anything more. His grip on control was absolute, but you could see the slightest shift in his demeanor. He didn’t like that you had access to information you shouldn’t have. That much was clear.

“I don’t owe you an answer,” you finally said, voice steady despite the storm raging inside you. “Not when you’ve been lying to me from the start.”

Young-il’s jaw tightened, his gaze never leaving yours. For a moment, you thought he might press further, demand the truth from you. But instead, he exhaled slowly, composing himself.

“You should be careful,” he said, his voice dangerously quiet. “Knowing too much in this place is never a good thing.”

His words weren’t a threat. Not exactly. But the warning was clear.

Still, your mind was far from settled. The conversation had left you feeling hollow. It seemed like your words failed to break through the walls In-ho had built around himself. Frustration curled in your chest, mingling with the lingering sensations of your shared intimacy.

You shifted, inching yourself to the side of the bed. Immediately, you heard a movement behind you.

“Where are you going?” In-ho asked. His voice, usually composed, carried a note of urgency.

“Out of here,” you muttered, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed.

You couldn't stay. Not after everything. Not after learning the truth. You couldn’t believe you had laid with a man who orchestrated so much suffering, who played god over the lives of others. The thought made your stomach twist.

A dull ache flared in your limbs, a deep soreness from the way he had taken you – rough, passionate, desperate. But you ignored it, steeling yourself as you planted your feet flat on the cold floor by the side of the bed.

“Don't,” said the man behind you as the mattress shifted. His voice was softer this time. “Just stay here for the night.”

You didn’t respond. You braced yourself and rose from the bed, but the moment your weight shifted, your legs wobbled beneath you. A sharp exhale escaped your lips as you stumbled, barely managing to catch yourself before you plopped back on the bed.

Before you could make another attempt, an arm looped around your waist, firm but gentle. The warmth of his skin against yours sent a shiver through you.

“You're not going anywhere,” In-ho murmured as he pulled you back onto the bed.

You tried to push him away, but your body betrayed you, still too weak to resist properly. He took the opportunity to bring you back to the center of the bed and away from the side. His grip was solid as his lips pressed against the back of your neck.

“Stay,” he whispered between kisses, his lips trailing down the curve of your shoulder. “I may have led this hell myself, but I will be the one to keep you from burning.”

You closed your eyes, torn between the storm inside you and the undeniable pull of his touch.

SFW ver. : Chapter 17.1

NEXT : Chapter 18

PREV : Chapter 16

Story Masterlist

I apologize for the late update because I got sick and is still very much sick. I got the triple combo one (fever, runny nose, and coughing fit) and I tried to continue writing but then it turned out it was a quartet combo, with the additional one being a headache. So now I'm a bit better so I could function better. Please feel free to leave comments and feedback about my story, the characters, the "you", and practically anything! I love reading your comments, especially long ones! It motivates me a lot! What do you think about Hwang In-ho's flashback and his view towards everything? Is it so him? Is he OOC? What do you think about his view towards you? Remember, this is a slow burn fic. Anyway, I decide to split his P.O.V. into multiple parts so I hope it would keep readers guessing about his true intention with her and his feelings towards her. Of course, you are more than welcome to re-read and form a guess about what he really feels. Anyway, what do you think about the smut/sex scene/NSFW scene???? That's the moment you've all been waiting for???? Do you really think In-ho will stop just with one round, though????? Now, what do you think about your conversation with In-ho at the end? Do you think it's so him? Is he OOC? What do you think about the "you", though? What do you think she will do afterward now that In-ho finally have her? I really want to know your reaction on this! Anyway, thank you very much for giving my story a chance. I love reading and re-reading all of your comments!

Leave a comment on the masterlist post to be added to the taglist.

#hwang in ho #hwang in ho x reader #hwang in ho fanfic #in ho #the front man #player 001 #squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game s2 #front man x reader #front man x you

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cirilla-fiona-riannon · 2 days ago

Text

ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜꜱ ᴡɪʟᴅᴄᴀᴛ ᴄʟᴜᴍꜱɪʟʏ ꜱʜᴏᴡꜱ ᴀꜰꜰᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies. Not proofread.

Emma: "Prince Kagari's birthday is today?"

Townswoman: "Yes, it's become a tradition for the whole town to celebrate."

Emma: "So that's why it's so lively today."

(I had no idea it was Kagari's birthday.)

The townspeople were particularly excited, and the sweet smell of dorayaki filled the air from every direction.

Townswoman: "You should celebrate Prince Kagari too."

Townswoman: "I'm sure he'd be thrilled if someone as special as you sent him good wishes."

A woman I'd gotten to know since coming to Kogyoku flashed me a cheerful smile and gave me a gentle push.

Townswoman: "If you're having trouble picking a gift, I'll help you out!"

Emma: "Thanks, but since it's a special occasion, I'd like to come up with something myself."

(This feels kind of weirdly pressuring. Or is it just me?)

Satisfied with my response, the woman cheerfully left after offering a few words of encouragement.

(Kagari's helped me more times than I can count since I got to Kogyoku. Whether or not I'm special to him, I can't just ignore his birthday now that I know about it.)

(Alright.)

(Wait, what's this ridiculously long line?!)

When I packed my gift and made my way to the castle, I found the square completely packed with people who had come to celebrate Kagari.

(Swordsmen, nobles, commoners—wow, that's a huge crowd.)

At the front of the line, a striking figure with red hair caught my eye.

He was expressionless, silently receiving greetings and tributes one after another.

(Prince Kagari looks completely detached, like it has nothing to do with him. He doesn't seem happy at all.)

I stood on my toes to get a better look, and our eyes met.

(Did he just catch me staring? He's always quick to notice when someone's looking at him.)

I looked away and took cover by a nearby cherry blossom tree.

(What should I do? It's going to be difficult to celebrate with this many people around.)

(I really wanted to celebrate on his actual birthday, but maybe I should come back tomorrow. Wait, what?)

When I glanced back, Prince Kagari was gone.

Instead, his attendant was standing there, and despite not being the prince, people were still offering celebratory words and gifts.

It was a weird sight.

Kagari: "You're wide open, Princess."

(!?)

I turned toward the voice, and a hand suddenly covered my mouth.

Before I could react, he pulled me into the shadows beneath the tree, my back gently pressed against the trunk.

Emma: "Mmph!"

(When did he even get behind me?!)

I struggled, but he effortlessly pinned me against the tree, his face now dangerously close to mine.

For a second, I thought my heart would stop.

Kagari: "Will you behave?"

I nodded frantically, and only then did he finally let go of my mouth.

But the distance between us didn't change. He placed his hands on the tree, keeping me trapped.

(Calm down, Emma.)

(He's probably just staying this close to avoid being seen by others.)

I instinctively lowered my voice, careful not to let my breath brush against him.

Emma: "Why are you here?"

Kagari: "I saw you."

Emma: "So you came to see me?"

Kagari: "You called me."

(Is that how he saw it?)

A mix of guilt and a strange, fluttering warmth settled in my chest.

Kagari: "If you were planning to stand in line, you should give up."

Kagari: "That line won't die down until nightfall."

Emma: "That long…?"

Kagari: "And at night, there's a banquet. It'll go on until dawn."

(Spending an entire day celebrating… The Yaksha of Kogyoku really goes all out.)

I was impressed, but his expression remained blank as always.

He gazed at the never-ending line of people as if it had nothing to do with him, his detached demeanor unfitting for someone being celebrated.

(I feel like Kagari doesn't care much about his birthday.)

(What if he finds it annoying that I came?)

Kagari: "So? Why are you here?"

I instinctively looked away.

Emma: "I was just curious since there are so many people."

(I can't bring myself to say I also came to celebrate.)

I hid the bag with the present behind my back.

Kagari was silent for a while.

An awkward silence fell between us, making the noise around us feel distant.

(I hid it, but I wonder if he noticed.)

But Kagari didn't say anything more about it and just grabbed my arm.

Kagari: "Princess, will you come with me?"

Emma: "Huh? W-Wait, Prince Kagari?"

He stealthily led me toward the castle, barely giving me a choice. Once inside, he unceremoniously shoved me into a room before disappearing and returning with a large basket.

Kagari: "First, put this on."

Emma: "A hakama?"

Kagari: "Next, wrap this around your face."

Emma: "A scarf?"

Kagari: "Lastly, wear this at your waist."

Emma: "A… sword!?"

Kagari: "Tie your hair into a single ponytail."

Emma: "Um…?"

(Why are we suddenly having a dress-up session?)

I accepted each item as he handed them to me, tilting my head in confusion. But then, without hesitation, he picked up the hakama and reached for my clothes.

Kagari: "If you don't know how to wear it, I'll help."

Emma: "N-No! I got this!"

(I have no idea what's going on, but this can't possibly be bad, right?)

#ikepri jp #ikemen prince #ikepri kagari #ikepri #kagari amagase #ikepri translations #cybird

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jweekgoji · 11 hours ago

Note

I just read your d-16 obsessed with famous reader and was kind of curious to think about what he would do when he became megatron like almost yandere obsessive

anyways… ily!!

Yandere!Megatron/Idol!Reader [TFO]

tw: yandere themes, obsession, possesive thoughts. word count: ~1,7k additional: gender-neutral!reader, ex-racer!reader, decepticon!reader. a/n: I did something similar before, you can read here if you want. however I would focus on different scenario here and mostly on exploring dynamic through inner feelings (if that makes sense). i think i wrote about more violent Megs before, so i wanted to write a bit softy one.

Pretty little thing.

Always on a pedestal, standing at the centre of attention, you rarely had to think about any problems. You were always surrounded by someone who would surely worry about it and solve everything at the flick of your wrist. The only thing that was needed was to just innocently clap your optics and enlighten the rest of the crowd with your beauty.

It's hard not to get used to it.

From the moment he saw you, you were amazing. No, perfect.

It seemed like every time he watched you from afar, he was looking at the brightest star in far, far away space. No matter how far away he stood, you always shined brightest for him.

Surrounded by a crowd of fans that never gave you a moment's peace, like satellites, you always stood out in the crowd. Everything in this tiny, cramped world revolved around you.

There was nothing in D-16 that could ever catch your attention, if only for a second.

And yet, he was happy. Never having seen the real beauty of the outside world, deprived of freedom since birth, at some point you always made him feel surrounded in a field of stars.

If it was safe on the surface of Cybertron again, he would surely spend cycles watching the vast sky dotted with colourful, bright lights.

‘It's not the right place for you to be,’ he would remind you every time he gets the chance of.

Away from Iacon, albeit rotten in the filth that was left behind by Sentinel the false Prime, he couldn't deny that there, you would be much safer.

Away from Iacon, you were lost. You never seemed to belong in the company of the former High Guard. Being silver spoon fed since the moment of your creation made you more naive and so painfully obvious to everyone around. It is a miracle, that there were still someone who looked after you, even though your silly little title doesn't mean here anything anymore.

He must have hated you, you would have thought. Unlike all those who joined the Decepticon resistance, everyone here was united in their hatred for the former reign of long-abandoned leader of the Iacon. Numerous attempts to hunt down, then exterminate every last one of them, only to hide the truth will forever be remembered by those whom Sentinel Prime deemed a threat to his rule.

In turn, what really united you with the idea of the Decepticons?

Did you feel as if you had been betrayed? Were born into this world only to exist meaninglessly in the depths of of your home planet, furnished for a slow, faithless death?

Something in Megatron's gaze drew you in. It was hard to tell if it was that bloodthirsty determination to free your city from the captivity of tyranny, or that look of despair and bitterness as the newly elected Prime banished him from his own city?

Either way, you followed him that day, much to the surprise of the Decepticon leader himself.

You glanced in Megatron's direction. Battered, like a wounded dog he was clenching his teeth and sitting on an equally time-worn throne. The silver frame was dotted with many scratches and dents, and the distinguished cannon still emitted a faint hint of smoke after being sliced in half.

The three members of the High Guard always stayed close by, but it seemed that no matter how hard they tried, their words always passed by Megatron's audials, that he didn't even have the slightest desire to cast his gaze at one of them.

“We can't waste time just because you're unable to move on from the last confrontation,” Starscream hissed demandingly, red optics fixed on the seated leader beside him. “We have a chance to mount a surprise attack until they secure their position in Iacon.”

The quiet scraping of metal against hard surface barely passes your optics. Fingers dig firmly into the armrests of the throne, at the mere talk about the recent defeat.

“Makes no sense. All focus should be on finding a suitable base for the Decepticons,’ Soundwave reminds, taking a single step forward towards the jet. Now, Starscream's gaze in Megatron's direction is blocked.

“So why haven't you started on this yet?” comes another, counter question. Stepping forward to meet the officer, the former leader of the guard gives his colleague only a sceptical, stern look.

“I'm working on it,” is the simple answer, not uncommon from the Decepticon's lips hidden behind the mask.

Starscream pinches himself on the bridge of his nose, closing his optics for a fleeting moment. This is what he gets after cycles of loyal service to the Primes. Total disobedience, and their new leader is hardly battle-hardened, spending twenty-four hours wasted in a pathetic attempt to soothe the yearning spark. To believe it, and this is the brat he lost to?

“Then get on it quick!” the red and white mech clucks his tongue, after which, casts a sharp glance in Megatron's direction. “If we can't keep fighting, what was the point of all this in the first place?”

Such an arrogant, son of a glitch. Doesn't know when it's the right time to shut up. That hit only deeper, after everything that happened for the past cycles. The constant whining and demands do nothing to ease his already troubled mind. He lost everything that day, the one and only time when he felt like everything. The bloody red optics darken at the words, and a soft growl escapes from him.

So, you step up.

“Soundwave is right, there will be another time for the attack, but now the top priority is to establish a base,” you raise your voice enough to catch all the decepticons around off guard. “Let our leader sort out his thoughts instead of pressing on him.”

Who could know you can speak up?

The confused sight you received from Starscream worth it in some way. If for all of Iacon you were an idol, loved by many, the old member of the high guard had no idea about you. The majority of the decepticons probably don't know either, you imagine, but does it really matter? The only look you only wanted, was from him.

An invisible, red string of fate always seemed to be tied around your wrist when it came to the unknown, small miner named D-16. After countless days of him following you around, it would be you looking out for him. How funny.

You smile.

Not a fighter, nor even build for any hard work. Your frame is neatly polished, shining pretty in the light. Even though at first of the decepticons glared and watched you with nothing but suspicion and hesitation at first, your bright charisma always let you have your way. Good on cameras, a valuable experience even at war. Somehow, you even made friends with them. You can even remember Slipstream and Thundercracker asking you about your daily polishing routine.

The same, dark red optics always trained on you. He should be glad, at least. Wasn't he concerned about your position in his new rankings? No matter how hard he tries to act so mighty and cruel, the big bad leader of the decepticons, Megatron, is still soft.

Still shy, you can add.

He's taller, stronger. If you easily towered over him, now the silver mech is the one looking down at you. It was odd, for some time. Your alt mode is build for speed, keeping you on the road and easily avoiding any obstacles that might get into the way. But with Megatronus' t-cog now, he's no longer that scrawny mech you were used to.

It must be so confusing to him, but so satisfying. It is no point in trying to hide it. With how tight his servos wrapped around your waist, holding you suffocatingly tight against his own frame. Like you'd run away or disappear if he let go. Funny enough, you'd do exactly the opposite of it.

The last bits of his own comfort in this Primus forgotten place. With you in his arms, he feels safe and loved, even though he doesn't understand what exactly this feeling means for him. He felt like that every time he was with Orion, playing that arcade game over and over, even as a miner, it was enough for him to be satisfied.

Megatron hides his face against your neck, closing his optics. Loved when he's with you. It was never this close until now. As D-16, all he had was glimpses of you on the big screen television, some rare, closed-door nights, when lucky.

He should be happy now, he thinks. No more hiding now, just you and him together. No more of this cursed society that stood in his way. Who would dare to oppose him at this moment? Tell him he has no chances of having you this close, however and whenever he wants it?

If only you just stood still and never moved an inch. He'd put you on the pedestal you deserve to be, so he could be the only one to be graced by your own appearance. A big, nice, glassy box will be good enough to cover you from the outside world, so maybe no Prime would even dare to lay their filthy hands on you.

Your servo gently laid on his back, moving in lazy, soothing circles. Both of you don't have to say a word; it was a comfortable silence between the two. After long, long and tiring days of work, he wants nothing but to rest next to you. Let himself fall in the long deserved recharge, so the constant, painful ache in his processor would be gone.

Such a peaceful sight for you. Having him this close, right in your arms. You would never dare to bother him at such a time. Even if his servos are fully covered in deep pink energon, wouldn't it be easy to just pretend not to notice it? If there's anything you're thankful for from your past career, it is the ability to turn blind optic when it's needed.

If you can't change him, you can definitely make him worse.

#yandere x reader #transformers x reader #transformers one x reader #tw yandere #megatron x reader #yandere megatron x reader #yandere transformers one #yandere transformers x reader

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peachhcs · 1 day ago

Note

Hannah surprises James today at the beanpot. She said she couldn’t make it but she could and wanted to surprise him.

you read my mindddd😌 the blurb immediately came to me when i saw the beanpot posts HAHA

au masterlist

the td garden was packed with boston college and northeastern fans for the highly anticipated annual beanpot. fans lined the arena and across the wall as the players poured onto the ice to start warmups. the students were on their feet yelling down to the eagles and booing northeastern. the boys ate it up through as they skated the around the glass encouraging the fans to keep it going.

there was one fan in the crowd tucked away that none of the players would recognize her unless she made herself more apparent. hannah and james talked earlier in the week where the gymnast mentioned that she probably didn’t think she could convince her coach to give her off for a day. james was slightly disappointed, but he did understand because negotiating with college coaches wasn’t easy.

however, what james didn’t know was that hannah already had her ticket booked for the game when they talked. the girl was starting to turn into samy because she just loved the idea of getting to surprise her boyfriend and just showing up after convincing him she wouldn’t be there.

she spotted his number 10 down on the ice doing his usual warmups with the guys. a proud smile sat on her lips knowing how much he was looking forward to this game and how much it meant to him to finally be able to play in it. tonight hannah sported some old boston college merch samy lended and she painted a small #10 on her cheeks and then the eagle on the other.

the younger duke sister wasn’t exactly sure how she wanted to make herself apparent or known that she was in attendance. she didn’t know if telling james before the game would distract him, or if just waiting until after would be better? or if him spotting her in the middle of the game would be even worse?

hannah didn’t really have time to contemplate her answers much longer because someone did end up spotting her. as ryan flew past her section, his eyes were on the fans and that’s when he spotted her familiar face in the sea of crimson. the brunette stopped in his tracks and skated back, a wide, confused smile on his lips.

“duker!” he yelled making the girl flush when the other boston college students glanced in her direction.

ryan looked excited to see her. he spun on his skate to find james to tell him who was here. hannah’s blush rose when some of the other fans noticed and recognized who she was.

“haggy! you’re never gonna guess who’s here!” ryan yelled when he got closer to his teammate who was on the other end of the rink.

“who?” james wondered.

“your girl is here,” ryan grinned widely and james’ shocked expression mirrored his own seconds ago.

“hannah’s here?”

“yeah!” ryan pulled james’ arm back towards hannah’s section. he pointed up to the girl who shyly waved down at them.

james’ mouth dropped open in complete shock and then a warm, fuzzy feeling bursted throughout his chest as the happiness slowly overtook the surprise.

she was here.

“go say hi, i’ll cover for you,” ryan pushed the boy towards the door where hannah was already making her way to the floor.

james lifted up his helmet briefly when hannah stood before him, “you’re here,” he mumbled.

“i’m here. surprise,” the gymnast grinned.

“i can’t believe you’re here. i-i thought..how did you?..” the words died in his throat along with every coherent thought in his brain.

“i may have sort of lied when we talked last week. i already had the flight booked. figured i’d try out this whole surprise thing,” hannah giggled and james didn’t even care that the entire boston college student body was watching him.

he pulled her into his arms, that warm feeling spreading throughout his entire body at the feeling of her wrapped around him. james wouldn’t admit this out loud, but he missed having her in his arms like this.

“i missed you so much. i can’t believe you’re here,” he mumbled into her shoulder.

“i missed you too, hags. it’s good to see you,” hannah smiled and james also couldn’t stop himself from kissing her.

he heard a few whistles probably from the students watching them still, but he couldn’t less. he hadn’t seen hannah since winter break and even that wasn’t enough time because of world juniors taking up a majority of that break.

hannah slowly directed their lips away knowing people were watching and they could save it for after the game when an entire arena couldn’t see them. “you should get back, but i’ll see you after. score some goals for me,” she smiled.

“oh, you know i will,” the boy beamed, kissing her one last time before skating back on before one of the coaches yelled at him.

hannah blushed before making her way back to her seat. a few of the fans glanced her way, but she mostly ignored the murmurs.

that was probably the most public they’ve ever been with their relationship and neither of them hated it. actually, it sent this strong feeling through james’ chest that everyone just watched him kiss his girlfriend in a sold out arena because now everyone knew she was his.

the eagles dominated the ice in an overwhelming 8-2 victory. the fans were loud and electric as they celebrated the first win of the tournament. hannah kept to herself outside of the locker rooms. she watched the replays of all of the game winning goals knowing james was going to be ridding a really good high tonight.

the boy was eager to see her again, so he basically rushed through his shower. he knew he didn’t have a lot of time until he needed to get back on the bus, but he hoped hannah was up for crashing at his dorm for the night.

he rushed out of the locker room in search of her. hannah looked up as soon as james started running towards her, now back in his suit with damp hair from his shower. she giggled when he wrapped her into his arms and spun her around.

“congrats on the win,” she smiled.

“i told you i’d score some goals,” james smiled as well.

“you were amazing out there. i’m proud of you,” the girl gushed.

he took this more quieter opportunity to kiss her without the anxiety of everyone watching. their lips moved in slow sync with each others, savoring it more than before. if james could kiss her all night he would because he would never get over the feeling of her lips on his.

“i’m so glad you came. i was really hoping you would,” the hockey player said when they finally pulled away.

“i’d never miss this. this is your moment,” hannah cupped his face where he leaned into her touch.

“i gotta get back on the bus soon, but what are the chances you’ll come crash at my dorm?” the boy grinned.

“100%, just tell me when,” hannah agreed.

“perfect, i will. god, i’m so glad you’re here. i’ll see you super soon,” james kissed her one last time before meeting his team.

hannah smiled to herself, that same warm, fuzzy feeling bubbling in her own stomach as she headed back to her hotel to await james’ text that she could head to his dorm.

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mddlbro · 2 days ago

Text

Dice sat there for a moment, chewing on his thoughts, letting Ramuda's quiet words settle in his mind like the final note of a long, drawn-out song. He'd always thought Ramuda was tougher than this—hell, the guy was practically invincible in Dice's eyes. But hearing him talk about how it didn't hurt as much anymore made Dice's chest tighten, as if someone was squeezing the air out of him. It wasn't the relief he expected to feel when Ramuda agreed not to talk about it—no, it was something more complicated. That ache, that unspoken weight, how long had Ramuda been carrying it alone? The thought gnawed at him. The guy had never asked for much, never really let anyone in, and Dice couldn't help but wonder how much of that pain had been buried beneath everything else. He wanted so badly to fix it, to make it go away, to somehow turn back time and make sure Ramuda never had to hurt like that in the first place.

But then Ramuda asked for a bath, and it caught him off guard. Dice blinked, blinking a few more times like he could clear the fog from his mind. A bath? It was such a simple request, so... normal. His gut twisted in a strange way. Maybe he was just overthinking things, but there was something deeper behind it. It wasn't about the bath itself; it was about Ramuda feeling safe enough to ask for something like that. Something that wasn't about survival or putting on a facade. And hell, it wasn't like they hadn't bathed together before, just not like this—no crowds, no rush, just the two of them. Dice grinned, forcing the edge off the tension in his chest, and nodded, his voice softer than usual. "Yeah, let's do it. Hot water sounds like a damn good idea." He could already feel the warmth of the water in his mind, could almost hear the soft swish of it surrounding them, washing away whatever weight had been hanging in the air.

The thought of helping Ramuda, making sure he felt cared for, didn't feel strange. Dice had always been the kind of guy to step up, especially when someone needed him. And maybe that's what Ramuda needed right now—someone who wouldn't make this weird, wouldn't treat it like a burden. Just normal. Just him, looking out for his friend, the way he always had. "Just let me put the leftovers away and start the bath, and I'll come get you, okay?" Dice stood up and made his way to the kitchen, his mind still swirling with everything Ramuda had said, but his body moving on autopilot. It felt right, taking the steps to make sure Ramuda was taken care of. When the bath was ready, Dice returned, scooping Ramuda up carefully, treating him like he was something precious even if he didn't have to say it aloud. Setting him down on the bath stool, Dice didn't hesitate for a second before asking, "You need help getting out of your clothes?" His voice was steady, calm, like this was the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it was.

It was still so odd, to be comforted this much. The contrast to how he used to be treated was far too obvious, Ramuda giving a soft smile. He still remembered being just shoved aside, any and all efforts ignored while failures were heavily punished. So it was a little odd to be praised just for finishing his food, but it wasn't a bad feeling either. At the question he did pause a little, having to actually think about just how he really felt.

''It doesn't hurt as much anymore.''

More just a dull ache now than the searing pain he was used to, he was quick to just get comfy again. Being held like this just made him feel so safe, almost falling asleep until he was offered some more food. Well, it wouldn't kill him, slowly nibbling up the bite offered to him. Of course it was cold, but that didn't exactly bother him when he was used to far worse meal qualities. Just cuddled up against Dice, enjoying the warmth, he listened to his words.

Human enough, huh? It was true he wasn't like the clones, it was what caused him all that additional pain, but he never really thought much about their other differences. The main one of course being their eyes, what always made him so uneasy when he met one of them. While his own eyes were full of life, theirs were more like glass. Empty, showing no sign of life really. Shuddering just from recalling what they looked like, he tried to think of other things instead. Like the fairly gross feeling he finally noted.

''Hey, before we sleep, can we go have a bath? My body feels kinda gross after everything, and I don't really like it.''

Plus it would ensure he didn't have any dried blood on him anywhere. Even if someone noticed it could be shrugged off as just paint, but that didn't mean he wanted any on him. And splashing around in some hot water sounded nice and relaxing too, maybe even with an added bonus of getting to wash Dice's hair.

#dancinghearts

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mrsbarnesblog · 4 months ago

Text

just us

masterlist

summary: a situation between pogues and kooks at the beach made Rafe rethink his priorities

word count: 1.8k.

warnings: season 4 spoilers, established relationship, mention of the dead turtle, that hoe Ruthie, protective Rafe

a/n: i'm obsessed with season 4, y'all. absolutely in love with everything that's going on and especially with Rafe being in a better place with a girl that he actually likes 🥹 this scene at the beach with turtles just made me sob, so I really need someone to drag that bitch by her hair. sorry not sorry.

Your heart was beating with adrenaline from the scene that just happened at the beach, with Topper’s girlfriend almost running over the pogues and being the usual insane bitch that she was. Rafe stood beside you, silent but shaking his buzzed head in disapproval.

Kie was standing on her knees on the sand, in shock, with juice still dripping down her face and hair. She brushed off the help of her friends, instead standing and picking something up from the ground, without hesitation, going towards the group of people around you. They seemed absolutely delighted by the whole situation, laughing, fist bumping each other, and making you want to punch every single one of them in the face.

You didn’t even want to be here in the first place, not with a bunch of people with whom you shared mutual hatred towards each other. Rafe was your only connection with them, and it seemed like even for him it was a bit too much. A fun day at a beach with a little surfing competition, where even Topper and JJ seemed to have some fun together, took the wrong turn way too quickly.

“Look what you did! Is this okay?” Kie stopped in front of Ruthie, reaching out her hand to show something that you weren’t able to see, but by the look on her face it was obviously serious to her. “There was a turtle hatch, you idiots! You drove right over it!” Your stomach twisted at the realization, and you took a step closer to see it yourself.

“Oh my God.” You whispered, catching a glimpse of a tiny dead turtle with a crushed shell laying in the palm of her hand. So little and harmless that the picture of it brought tears to your eyes.

“Don’t look, baby.” Rafe’s deep voice mumbled near your ear, with a warm hand sprawled across your back to try to distract you, but you shook your head, unable to take your eyes off it.

“All right, but it was only one.” Ruthie said with her usual attitude, nonchalantly pointing to the rest of the turtles that, luckily, were perfectly fine. Your mouth opened in disbelief, and you looked at Rafe to see him uncomfortably rubbing the back of his head.

“I’m so sorry, Kie…” You whispered to her, stepping further away from the kooks, eyes drifting again to the dead animal in her hand. No matter how hard you tried to fit in with Rafe and his friends, you could never be one of them if it meant to be a bunch of pompous and cruel rich kids. You thought that, maybe it was time for you to finally admit that.

“It’s not your fault, Y/N.” She briefly looked at you, because despite not being friends, there never were any arguments between you and the rest of the pogues, always keeping cool and friendly with each other. “There’s something wrong with you, people.” Kiara looked back at the kooks with disgust written all over her face.

“I’m leaving, Rafe.” Barely holding back your tears, you looked back at your boyfriend, before picking up your beach bag from the sand and turning around. “I’m sorry again for them, Kie.”

“No, wait, Y/N.” He pushed through the crowd, wide-eyed, quickly approaching you and grasping your wrist. “This is not—“

“I don’t want to be here. I didn’t sign up to hang out with your friends when I started dating you, okay?” You groaned in frustration, attempting to move, but Rafe stopped you. “I don’t even know why we’re here, why you are here, when you clearly don’t enjoy it anymore.”

“Listen, this is not so easy, okay?” He rolled his eyes, but you knew it was not fully directed at you; Rafe was already struggling with trusting those around him, and the fact that you slowly but steadily made him reconsider his current surroundings did not help.

“You are not like them, they are not your friends, don’t you understand it?” The pure desperation was speaking in you, searching for the answers in his eyes. You overheard some people laughing at you, as they were too confident that Rafe would never listen to someone like you, someone from the cut, not even realizing the war that was currently going on in his head.

He was silent, thinking, making his already overwhelmed mind go hundred miles per hour to figure something out, because you were right. The more time had passed, the more the two of you were together, the less Rafe found himself enjoying the presence of his old friends, the less he wanted to do that childish bullshit.

“This dumb fucking bitch almost ran over people and killed an innocent animal because her big ego got hurt, do you understand?! So I’m leaving. Alone or with you.” You almost whispered the last part to him, too scared that he'd not choose you. At the end of the day, you were a pogue, and no matter how much you tried, you would never be good enough for Rafe.

“What did you just call me?” Ruthie arched a brow, now shooting daggers at you.

“I called you a dumb fucking bitch, didn’t you hear me?” You spat, finally having a good enough reason to tell the truth right in her face. “Or are you too stupid to get that through your thick scull?”

“That’s rich, coming for a pogue. It’s just a cycle of life. And if you, losers, are so offended by that, it’s not my problem.”

“A cycle of life? Getting flattened by a truck is not a cycle of life.” Kiara pushed Ruthie with her hand, and it nearly turned into a fight, with JJ standing by his girlfriend's side. You turned away from them, too frustrated and drained to bother listening to the rest of the conversation, your gaze shifting to Rafe, who still held your hand.

“I want to leave. Stay here if you want to, I don’t care. I’m done with them, Rafe.” Your teary eyes met his blue ones, and he shook his head, pulling you closer with your forearms. The mere thought of you leaving him, angry and upset, triggered a whirlwind of panic within him.

“Hey, no, I’m not staying, okay?” Rafe's hands, now much gentler and delicate, touched your cheeks, wiping away a few tears that you could not keep back. Rafe had never been too comfortable with the display of emotions, and he was pretty sure that it was the first time he had actually seen you cry. And he knew how much you had always carried for animals, how you petted every stray cat or a dog on the street, and how you hated any form of violence against them.

The pulsating and aching feeling in his chest at the sight of your tears made him want to drop everything, or rather, eliminate everyone who had upset you, and just hold you in his arms.

“Aw, look at you.” You heard that annoying voice behind you back again, pulling you out of the bubble in which you fell, and turning around, you saw that Kie and JJ were no longer there. Your eyes instantly rolled back as Ruthie looked at you with her usual fake sympathy, crossing her arms over her chest. “Go back to your side of the island, you’re not one of us. Don’t even know why Rafe bothers to bring you here when you’re just another dirty toy to—“

Rafe left your side before she could finish her sentence, looming over her with the most furious expression you had ever seen on his face. Everyone and everything seemed to fall silent for a moment, and you held your breath, unsure what he would do. “Wanna say some bullshit about her? Try to do it right in my face and see what happens.”

“You’re not seriously protecting the pogue. She’s not on our side.” Her smile faded, her eyes now nervously looking between Rafe and Topper, who was standing behind her back.

“C’mon, Rafe…” He started, but quickly shut his mouth as soon as Rafe turned his head towards him with a silent threat. You felt your heartbeat quickening as the atmosphere started to get even more intense. Everyone around you also started arguing and saying God knows what, but Rafe was awfully calm, and it frightened you even more.

You moved closer to them as you made your way through the warm sand, until you were able to place a comforting hand on your boyfriend's back. He was so tense under your touch that it amazed you how the hell he was not shaking because of it. The only times you had ever seen him behaving that way was when people whispered something about his father behind his back.

“It’s okay, Ray.” You whispered, kissing his shoulder and sliding your hand down his back to take a hold of his bicep.

“You’re lucky that I don’t hit women. But if I hear a single word about my girlfriend again, you will regret it, I promise you." Your stomach flattered from the way he protected you, from the way his friends opened their mouths in shock at his words. Even Topper and Kelce were too stunned to speak, sending each other weird glances. “Control, your crazy bitch, Top.”

As if nothing had happened, Rafe stepped back, throwing a protective hand over your shoulders and guiding you away from the group. He was silent for a whole walk towards his truck, only stopping near the passenger door and turning you to face him.

His worried blue eyes were almost shining under the bright and hot sun and you saw words forming in his head and sitting at the tip of his tongue. You waited another minute, while Rafe was focused on your necklace, thinking. His hands found a place on your waist, rubbing circles into your skin, until he finally took a deep breath and looked up.

“You’re right.” He said simply. “I’m not this person anymore. That shit with racing with pogues was fun and all, but I didn’t like what happened today.” You half smiled, nodding and encouraging him to talk. “If—if I want to be like my dad, I need to have my priorities straight. No more of this bullshit, no more fake ass people, yeah? You’re the only one who's been here for me for a long fucking time. You’re the only one who I can trust, baby.”

His hand cupped your cheek, eyes focused solemnly on you, before he lowered himself closer to you to place a kiss on your lips.

“This is the right decision. You’ve overgrown them, you’re a better man now. And i’ll be here for you whenever you need me, I promise. I guess it’s just us now." Your body sagged against his, too wrapped in the comfort of his presence to even care about anything else. Your lips brushed against his, making Rafe groan.

“Just us, baby.”

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itneverendshere · 4 months ago

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LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - ONE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: none (angst) chapter two┆ chapter three ┆ chapter four

The bass from the speakers rattled the glass in your hand as you leaned against the porch railing, eyes scanning the backyard for him—Rafe.

It had been a long month.

Longer than you thought it would be. Usually, when you and Rafe had your little “breaks,” they lasted about a week, maybe two at most. It was always something stupid, a screaming match that ended with slammed doors and his truck peeling out of your driveway. But it never lasted. It couldn’t. You’d known each other too long, been through too much, and deep down, there was this unspoken truth—he’d always come back. Or, you would.

But this time was different.

This time, he wasn’t calling or showing up at your window in the middle of the night, eyes tired and sorry, pulling you into his arms. The space between you had been growing wider since his dad died. And sure, maybe it was your fault for what you said after Ward’s death—But it was the truth.

Still, you hadn’t expected him to shut you out completely. Two months. Two months of silence. And the only thing you’d heard about him since was through Ruthie, Topper’s new girlfriend, of all people. A random comment at Mase’s place—something about how Rafe had been hanging around some pogue girl named Sofia.

You’d rolled your eyes at that. Rafe? With some Pogue? Yeah, right. You’d pretended not to care when she tossed it out like it was nothing

You weren’t stupid.

You’d always known Rafe wasn’t the easiest guy to love. He was complicated, angry, reckless—but so were you. And in some messed-up way, that’s why you two worked. Or at least, why you thought you did. You were just as stubborn, just as damaged. But now, as you sipped your drink and looked around, something felt off. Your gut was tight, and that nagging feeling that’d been growing restless under your skin since the breakup only grew stronger the longer you stood there.

You pushed yourself off the railing, discarding your drink on a table before moving through the crowd, past people you knew but didn’t bother with. Your mind was set on one thing—Rafe. You were done with the break. You had your space. It’s time to get back together. It was never even really a question. It was just the way things worked with you two.

But then there was Ruthie—blocking your path, her wide smile dripping with the kind of smugness that set your teeth on edge. She looked like she was reveling in your misery and that little giggle she let out only made it worse.

"So glad you could make it!" she sang out, her voice too sweet, too bright. Her eyes flickered over you like she was sizing you up, taking stock of every inch of your perfectly put-together outfit.

You forced a smile, “Yeah, well, wouldn’t miss a party like this,” you said, keeping your tone casual.

You weren’t in the mood for whatever game she was playing.

“Oh, I just bet,” she replied, her smile growing wider. She stepped closer, her breath reeking of cheap wine, and you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes. Ruthie always drank too much at these things.

What the hell was her problem? She always acted like she knew something you didn’t, like she held the keys to all the dirty little secrets in Kildare, and she loved dangling them in front of people just to watch them squirm.

“Ruthie, I swear to God—” you began, but she cut you off, her grin widening.

“Oh, honey,” she cooed, her voice dripping with fake sympathy, “don’t get mad at me. I’m just the messenger. You should really be talking to Rafe about this.” She took a step back, still smiling, and glanced over her shoulder. “He’s around, you know. You can go find him yourself. See how cozy he’s gotten with her.”

You bit your tongue, jaw, forcing yourself to stay calm. She was trying to get under your skin, like the snake she’d always been. You couldn’t believe Top was lonely and horny enough to finally fall into her claws.

“Thanks for the tip,” you gave her a tight lipped grimace, brushing past her, didn’t try and wait for her reply.

You only caught glimpses of empty rooms along the way. You hadn’t seen him since the break, and part of you didn’t want to admit how much that messed you up. How much he messed you up. Your steps slowed as you neared the hall that led to the back of the house, the sound of voices filtering through the air. You recognized some, laughed at the drunken ramblings, until one voice cut through the noise. Rafe’s.

And then you heard hers. No fucking way.

You didn’t stop. You couldn’t. You told yourself you just needed to see him, just talk to him, tell him this break had gone on long enough, that you were done with the games. That’s when you heard it again—her laugh. It was light, flirtatious, the kind of laugh that made your stomach turn into a million different directions because you knew exactly what it meant.

She was there, with him.

You moved forward, the hallway barely lit as you reached the half-closed bathroom door. Your breath hitched, hands trembling as you peeked through the small crack, unable to stop yourself from looking.

There they were.

She was smiling, laughing softly at something he’d said, her fingers brushing through her hair as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched his hands move, tying the knot in her bikini with such gentle precision like he’d done it a thousand times. The kind of softness he used to have with you. And then he said it, his voice teasing, amused like this was some kind of inside joke between them.

"God, this is just landing right in my lap, isn’t it?"

You froze.

He laughed quietly, his lips brushing against Sofia’s shoulder as he tied the last knot, and the way he touched her—like she was something to be savored—sent a rush of pure, burning humiliation straight through your chest.

You stumbled back, your heart pounding in your ears as Rafe’s words repeated over and over in your head. Landing right in my lap. What the fuck was this?

Your heart clenched, vision blurring as what you were seeing slammed right into you. You backed away, your hand flying to your mouth to stop the sob from escaping. But it didn’t help. Not even à little. The tears burned, and you turned quickly, practically running back through the house and out the door before anyone could see the humiliating mess you were becoming.

It was real. He moved on. In two fucking months.

That’s all it had taken for him to replace you. To be done with you. He was over you. Just like that.

After everything you’d been through together, after all the times you had to pull him out of his own darkness, after the nights spent in his arms when you thought you couldn’t breathe because your whole family was gone—after years of being his and him being yours—how the fuck could he move on when you’d been rotting away in self loathing for pushing him away?

Your head spun as you stumbled down the steps, out to the street where your car was parked. You couldn’t breathe. Your breaths were coming out too fast, too shallow, and your hands were shaking so hard you had to press them against your knees to hold yourself up.

What the hell was wrong with you? You hadn’t even had anything to drink.

But your stomach was rolling, twisting in knots so tight you could barely stand straight. You leaned against the side of your car, the cool metal grounding you to reality for a second before a wave of nausea hit, forcing you to double over and retch onto the pavement. Tears stung your eyes as you coughed, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

You felt dizzy, disgusted even, everything you thought you knew, everything you thought was yours, had been ripped out from under you.

Without a single warning. Not a text, not a stupid call, just pure indifference. No respect or regard for you. None of them. Everything you’d just seen replayed in your mind—Rafe, her, the way he touched her like she meant something to him.

“Look who’s still standing!” Topper’s voice. He was laughing as he strolled over, hands shoved in his pockets, that same carefree grin on his face that he always had at parties. “Jesus, what did you have to drink? You look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

Normally, you might have had something to say back, maybe a fiery insult or a roll of your eyes. But right now, everything felt like too much. You couldn’t say a word. You could barely breathe.

Your cousin stopped beside you, his grin dropping as he finally looked at you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He leaned down, trying to catch your eyes. “You good? You look kinda—"

You cut him off, the question was heavy, like a lump lodged in your throat. “Did you know?”

He blinked, the confusion spreading across his face. “Know what?”

You swallowed, your heart hammering in your chest as you forced the words out, your voice shaking. “About Rafe and Sofia.”

You hated saying her name.

Hated that you’d been forced to know it by heart. Topper’s smile dropped, his expression changing.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to, you knew him well enough to read his micro expressions. You clenched your fists, it felt like you were the only one in the island who’d been let out of the secret.

Surely, your friends, your only family would’ve told you something right? It’s not like you were on a remote island away from them. You’d spent the last month in New York, not in the fucking jungle. You visited occasionally. You were a call away.

“Did everyone fucking know?”

Topper exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, we didn’t think it was serious. You know how it is with you two—you’ve done this before. Played with other people…”

Played with other people. Like you and Rafe were just some game, a revolving door of heartbreak and hookups. It didn’t make sense. You’d always known how it worked, understood how these things went—sure, you’d had your minor flings, and he’d had his, but it was never real.

You stumbled back, feeling like you might collapse. “Oh my God, I’m going to be sick again.”

He reached out, obviously concerned since he hadn’t seen you in this desperate state in years, “Hey, hey, calm down. Look, it’s not like it means anything. Rafe’s just—he’s going through a lot with his dad dying, and he… he’s just messing around. You know how he gets.”

But the words did nothing to soothe you. They only made it worse—how everyone knew. How they’d all watched Rafe move on, while you were stuck, still reeling from the breakup, thinking he’d come back like he always did. And he was just out there, with her.

With someone else. You pressed a hand to your stomach, your head hurting. The idea of Sofia, of Rafe being with someone else in ways that only you knew—ways that had always been yours—made you feel like you were being torn apart.

Topper was still talking, still trying to rationalize it, but his words were like static now, blending into the noise of the party behind you. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he was saying. “You know how it goes. You always end up back together. He’s just doing whatever to distract himself.”

That word. Distract himself. Like your entire relationship could be boiled down to that—a series of distractions until you decided to come back to each other, to pick up the pieces and pretend everything was okay.

You could still remember the night your life changed—the phone call, the horrible, gut-wrenching moment when you learned that your family’s private plane had gone down. Your parents. Your sister. Gone. Just like that. And Rafe had been the one to pull you through it. He was the one who had held you as you cried so hard you thought you were going to die, who sat with you in silence when you couldn’t bring yourself to speak, who stayed with you every single night because you were terrified to be alone in a haunted mansion that now felt like a mausoleum.

You had been seventeen, and losing them all at once had killed something inside of you. But he was there. He wasn’t perfect—far from it—but he knew what it was like to grieve.

He knew loss. He understood. Because you’d been there for him two years earlier, when his mom lost her battle to cancer. You could still see the look in his eyes that day—fourteen years old and already drowning in so much anger and sadness, like the world had ripped something essential out of him.

The way he cried at her funeral when he thought no one was watching, and you’d found him, sat beside him in the cold, letting him cry without saying a word. You hadn’t started dating yet, hadn’t crossed that line, but something had changed between you two in those moments.

A connection, a bond forged in shared pain, in the kind of trauma that no one else really got. Maybe that was why you were so obsessed with each other. Maybe it was fucked up, but you couldn’t imagine anyone else understanding you the way Rafe did.

How could it all come down to this? To you standing here, feeling like the world was ending while he moved on, laughing and touching someone else like nothing you had ever been through mattered?

Was that it? Did that one moment, that one argument about Ward, erase everything you’d done for him?

All the times you’d been there, the way you had comforted him when he felt like his life was spiraling? You remembered exactly what you’d said a month after the funeral, when your boyfriend blamed everyone but Ward for his own death. "He wasn’t a good person, baby. I know he was your dad, but you can’t pretend like he didn’t fuck you up."

You hadn’t even said it to hurt him, not really. It was just the truth. Ward had been a terrible father, controlling and manipulative, and you’d spent years watching Rafe try to live up to some impossible standard, chasing his father’s approval like it would ever be enough. But that didn’t make it easier for him to hear. You should have known better. You should have known how raw he was after losing his dad, how complicated his feelings were.

But instead, you’d been brutal. Honest, but brutal.

And now, two months later, here you were—staring at the empty street, wondering if you’d pushed him too far. If that one moment of honesty was enough to make him forget everything else. Now you were just the ex, the crazy one who didn’t know when to keep her mouth shut.

“Fuck, why did I say that?” you whispered to yourself, voice shaking. Why couldn’t you have just let it go?

But then another clarity of anger took over you, pushing away the guilt that had been building inside. So you’d been too harsh about Ward. So you’d said what everyone else had been too scared to say. It wasn’t like you’d been wrong. Ward had messed Rafe up.

Everyone knew it. He knew it, deep down.

You gritted your teeth, staring out at the dark street, the low hum of the party still buzzing faintly behind you. You were never going to get that picture out of your head. Like they hadn’t just met, like you hadn’t spent years learning how to calm Rafe when he spiraled, how to hold him together when he couldn’t hold himself.

Your chest tightened again, a bitter taste rising in your throat.

You could still feel the weight of his head on your shoulder that night, years ago, when his mom passed. The silent sobs that shook his body, the way he’d held onto you. That was the real Rafe—the one he hid from everyone else. The one who was lost and broken underneath all the anger. And you’d seen him, really seen him in ways no one else ever could. Not Sofia. Not anyone.

"Look, you're emotional, okay? I get it. Maybe it's that time of the month or something. You know how you always get when your hormones go crazy."

The words got to you, but not in the way he probably thought they would. At first, it pissed you off, like it always did when people tried to downplay your emotions. Everyone always said you felt too much. That you were out of control.

But then…

You stopped moving, blinking rapidly as his words spiraled around in your brain. ‘Time of the month’, he'd said.

Your heart started doing summersaults, your stomach dropping as the idea settled in. You grabbed your phone, hands trembling like leaves as you opened the calendar app. You scrolled, trying to think, trying to remember when you’d last…fuck.

You hadn’t had your period in… so long.

Almost two months. No. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be some kind of fucked up joke.

You felt light-headed as you reached for your car again, your body shaking so badly you could barely stand against the door. "Shit."

How could you not have noticed?

Topper noticed the change in you instantly, his brow furrowing. "What’s wrong with you?" he asked, his tone softening a little. "You okay?"

You couldn’t even form a sentence. Your brain was too full of what-ifs. Two months late.

You hadn't even thought about it until now—everything had taken so much space in your head that you hadn't noticed the most obvious sign. This wasn’t possible. Your hand flew to your stomach, almost instinctively. You had no idea what to do with the panic creeping up your throat.

“Shit,” You hissed, this time louder, trying to push the growing dread down. But it wouldn't go away.

He was still staring at you, “What? What’s going on? You’re freaking me out.”

But you were already backing away, shaking your head, “I—I need to go,” You mumbled, barely hearing yourself.

Your cousin moved quickly to block your path as you tried to make your way toward the door. That kind of protective streak only made you want to shove past him even more.

"You’re not driving in this state." he warned you, voice firm, his hands up like he was trying to physically stop you.

You just glared at him, “Fucking watch me.”

He didn’t budge. "You get in that car and I'm calling Rafe," he said, sounding dead serious.

You couldn’t believe it. Your head was already spinning, and he was trying to guilt-trip you like this was some kind of helpful thing to do? You threw your hands up in frustration, voice rising, cracking. "He’s too busy fucking Sofia. Knock yourself out."

The words felt like venom in your mouth, the bitterness rolling off your tongue. You didn’t care how harsh they sounded. You didn’t care about anything anymore except getting away from this suffocating stupid place. Before he could say anything else, you made your move. You pushed past him with all your strength, chest hurting with the urge to feel something other than this suffocating mess of emotions and confusion.

Your hands shook as you fumbled for your keys. You managed to unlock the door, sliding into the driver’s seat, the cool leather biting into your skin.

You needed to think. But all you could think about was that one, terrifying realization: you might be pregnant.

Your breath hitched, terror swirling around your chest. The calendar app was still open on your phone, the dates staring back at you like a flashing red warning sign, daring you to confront the truth you’d been ignoring. Two months. Two months without a period. And you hadn’t even noticed. You pressed a hand to your stomach again, heart pounding as if it was trying to escape your chest. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not like this.

You weren’t thinking clearly—shit, you weren’t thinking at all, but you couldn’t stay here. Not with Topper trying to baby you, not with him out there, living his best life like you didn’t even exist.

You turned the key, the engine roaring to life, and just as you gripped the wheel, ready to peel out of the driveway, Topper bolted in front of the car, planting himself right there like some kind of human roadblock. Fucking idiot. His arms were stretched out wide, like he could somehow stop you by sheer willpower.

“You’re not doing this, I swear to God, you’re not!” he yelled, his voice frantic, echoing off the dark street. He looked panicked, pleading even, like he was convinced you’d actually go through with it.

You gritted your teeth, eyes narrowing on him through the windshield. “Top, I swear, you have three seconds before I run you over.”

“Are you serious right now?” he yelled, his voice cracking with disbelief. But he didn’t move. “You think I’m letting you drive like this? You’re out of your fuckin’ mind!”

Your fingers gripping the wheel so hard it hurt. You weren’t bluffing. You were too wound up, too out of control. The only thing keeping you from flooring him was the fact that, deep down, you knew your cousin didn’t deserve it.

You just needed to get out of here.

“Move!” you screamed, “I’m not joking’, Topper. Get the fuck out of my way!”

His face twisted with frustration as he looked over his shoulder, something catching his attention. He started waving, yelling at someone, his voice cutting through the night, “Rafe! Dude, get over here!”

Your brain stopped. It was like everything had been sucked out of you. Your hands froze on the wheel, your entire body locking up as you looked to your right and saw him—Rafe. Right there in the yard.

And she was with him. He had his arm draped around her casually, like she belonged there.

Like he belonged there, just standing in the open, so stupidly comfortable in his new life. His head turned when he heard Topper call out, and your eyes locked for a less than a second. A moment too long. A moment that broke something inside you.

While Topper was distracted, his attention on Rafe, you made your move. You slammed your foot on the gas, tires screeching as the car lurched forward, swerving just enough to dodge Topper’s stunned figure. You heard him yell after you, but his voice faded into the background noise as you sped away.

You didn’t look back. Not at Top, not at Rafe.

The only thing you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears, drowning out everything else. You hated this. Hated that you were crying. Hated that you’d let yourself get to this point.

“God, what is wrong with me?” you muttered, your voice quavering as the words tumbled out. “Why the fuck am I crying over him? I shouldn’t be crying over him.” You slammed your palm against the steering wheel, angry, disgusted with yourself.

You’d told yourself you were stronger than this—that after everything you’d been through, you didn’t need him or anyone else. But here you were, falling apart like some pathetic excuse of a mess because of him. Because he had always been there, hadn’t he? After the crash, after you lost everything, he was the one constant, the one person who kept you from completely losing it. You’d relied on him so much. Too much.

“Fuck,” you hissed, tears streaming down your face. Your throat burned as the memories came flooding back, memories of all the nights you’d spent together, of him holding you while you cried yourself to sleep, of the way he’d pulled you out of the gloom when you thought you’d never get back up again. You thought he’d always be that person for you, the one who understood your broken pieces because he had his own. You’d always fit together perfectly.

You pulled into the parking lot of the nearest drugstore, your hands still shaking as you put the car in park. The tears had dried up on the drive over, replaced by a cold determination. You didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to even think about what you were about to do.

The moment you stepped out of your car and into the harsh fluorescent lighting of the drugstore, you felt completely out of place—like a stranger in your own skin. You hadn’t even thought about how ridiculous you must’ve looked until you caught your reflection in one of the store’s glass windows. Your hair, still perfect from earlier, framed your face in soft waves, and your makeup was flawless, despite the crying. The designer dress you were wearing—sleek, red, and worth more than half the shit in this store—with its sticky floors and white lights, it made you feel like an alien. Like you didn’t belong.

You caught the eyes of a couple of people loitering outside the entrance as you walked in, their stares lingering a little too long, murmuring to each other behind smirks. You knew they were talking about you. They always did, kook queen, overdressed, out of touch, bitch, whatever they wanted to call you.

The sliding doors let out a grating beep as you entered, and the air inside was stale and heavy, reeking of floor cleaner and cheap perfume. You adjusted your grip on your purse, strutting past the aisles with your head high even though everything inside you felt like it was falling apart.

You always did this—dressed to kill, head up, like armor. But there was no real glamour in buying pregnancy tests from some random pharmacy in the middle of the night. No way to mask the deep, growing hysteria in your bones.

The girl behind the register clocked you the second you stepped up to the counter, her eyes dragging over your like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. You could almost hear her thoughts: What the hell is someone like you doing here?

You didn’t even look at her. You just wanted to pay and leave without a scene. But of course, people always found a way to make things worse. She hesitated before scanning the tests, looking like she might say something. For her own good, you prayed she didn’t.

You threw the money on the counter before she could open her mouth, two crisp hundreds on top of the total. The cash hit the counter with a sharp thwap and you gave her the bitchiest look you could muster. “Take it. Keep your fucking mouth shut.”

She swallowed hard, her hand trembling as she slid the bills into the register. You didn’t care that she was young or nervous. You weren’t here to make friends. You weren’t here for anyone’s sympathy. The extra money would make sure she didn’t talk, that was all that mattered.

You walked out, your heels clicking against the linoleum, head high, even though every nerve in your body screamed for you to disappear. You slid into your truck, slamming the door shut, the silence finally hitting you. For all the designer clothes, the makeup, the money—none of it meant shit right now. You felt so small. So scared. Terribly lonely.

You sat there for what felt like forever, staring at the stupid bag in the passenger seat like it had the power to ruin your whole life—which, to be fair, it kind of did. You didn’t know what the fuck you were going to do. Not about any of it.

Your foot tapped nervously against the floor mat, the sound too loud in the quiet car. The bag crinkled as you glanced at it again, your stomach twisting all over again. A bunch of pregnancy tests. How had it come to this?

Rafe. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself not to think about him, not to picture his face when he found out. If he found out. Shit, what the hell was he going to do? He was with Sofia now, right? So was this going to ruin his life too? Did he even deserve to know?

It was probably nothing, you told yourself. Maybe the separation anxiety had gotten to you. Maybe your body was just fucked up from all the stress. Maybe your period was just late because you’d been so all over the place lately. There could be a million reasons. You didn’t even want to think about what would happen if it wasn’t nothing.

You didn’t want to cry anymore. Not after all of this. Not over Rafe. Not over your life turning into some fucking soap opera you didn’t even want to be a part of.

The second you were inside your house, the walls closed in around you. Your perfectly decorated place—the one you’d spent so much time making into a refuge, an escape—it didn’t feel like that anymore. Every designer pillow, every carefully chosen piece of art, mocking you.

Your phone buzzed in your bag, you reached for it. Of course, it was Rafe.

“I don’t know what the fuck that was but save the fucking dramatics, okay?”

The nerve. The fucking nerve of him to act like he was the center of your universe, acting like you were some inconvenience. Months of silence and this was the first thing he decided to text you? Knowing how much you despised when people called you a drama queen? Fucking piece of shit.

Your fingers hovered over the screen, a thousand different responses running through your mind. You wanted to tell him to shove something up his ass. But you did the only thing that felt right in that moment.

You blocked him. You stared at your phone, half expecting it to buzz again, half dreading that it wouldn’t. It was done. You cut him off, at least in that tiny, virtual way. You sat there for a minute, gripping the phone, trying to remember how to breathe.

This was supposed to feel empowering, right? You told yourself it would. That cutting him out would help you get back some control. But your mind wouldn’t settle. Those damn pregnancy tests were sitting in the bag next to you.

You were tired.

Exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with how late it was or how emotionally spent you were. You kicked off your heels, letting them clatter against the hardwood floor as you sank into the plush couch. Your house felt cold and unwelcoming tonight. Like a showroom. No comfort to be found. Not here, not in the muted tones of beige and white. Not in the sleek lines of furniture that were supposed to exude elegance and sophistication.

Maybe tomorrow you’d feel differently.

Maybe you’d wake up with a clear head, ready to take the stupid tests. Maybe you’d be strong again like you’d been so many times before.

Tonight, you were just tired. You leaned back against the cushions, closing your eyes for a moment, willing the noise in your head to quiet down. Sleep. That’s what you needed. Just a few hours to clear your mind, and in the morning, you’d deal with everything.

All of this would go away.

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige @rafebb

@rafesbbyy @whytheylosttheirminds @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron @serrendiipty @sunny1616

@yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog @psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2 @starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols

@icaqttt

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navybrat817 · 4 months ago

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Mr. and Mrs. Barnes

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky suggests sneaking off at the gala. How can you resist?

Word Count: Over 3k

Warnings: Unprotected v. sex, sex in a closet, dirty talk, possessiveness, established relationship, slight insecurities, mention of breeding, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes and he's a simp for you (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Sorry, lovelies. I just really wanted this. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky didn’t bother to hide his discontent as he looked around at the ballroom. Was it a gala? Fundraiser? What cared? He hated functions like these. People were either there to kiss ass and move up the chain of command or gloat about how well off they were in life under the guise that they were doing good for others. He didn't attempt to converse with any of them, but still had to go as a way to support SHIELD in some capacity and show that he was no longer the Winter Soldier.

At least Steve and Sam were excused from the event due to a mission.

Leaning against one of the pillars and tugging at his bowtie, he spaced out momentarily. No one looked his way, but he still felt judged. Like he didn’t just belong at the event, but amongst anyone. He wanted to go home, get out of his tuxedo, and get the product out of his slicked back hair. He debated sneaking away from some air until he blinked and saw the reason he was truly there: you, the only real person in the crowd of liars and cheaters.

He never understood the expression of clothes clinging to someone like a second skin until you stepped into your floor-length black dress earlier this evening, the fabric enhancing every beautiful curve of your body. His eyes narrowed as you moved around the room and exchanged smiles and handshakes with people. Your aura drew people to you, men brushing against you and their stares lingering for far too long. It served as another reminder of why he didn’t want to go tonight, especially when a General gripped your arm.

If he had a glass in his hand it would’ve shattered.

Convincing you to stay in bed didn't work since you both had to make an appearance, but it didn't mean he wanted you apart from him. “Get over here,” he whispered, craving your attention, needing you close.

As if you sensed him seeking you out, likely feeling the weight of his stare, you turned to meet his gaze across the room. Your eyes sparkled with love that he never thought he’d receive in his lifetime. The kind of love he never wanted to be without again. “Would you please excuse me?” You asked loud enough for him to catch as you removed your arm from the man’s grip. “My husband is waiting for me.”

Your hips swayed as you worked your way toward Bucky, not stopping for any other man who tried to catch your eye. Hearing you call him your husband brought the first smile to his face since he arrived. He still couldn’t believe some days that you wanted forever with him. “I was wondering when my beautiful wife would remember I was here,” he said once you were close enough, reaching out for your hand.

The moment you took it, he stood tall and pulled you against him. He was certain no one else came close to the intimidating vibe he put out, his hold on you possessive as you smiled. “As if I could forget. Practically heard you growling when General Rando touched my arm,” you teased.

“Because he has no right to touch you,” he said, your lashes fluttering as you spun away. His hands guided you back to him. “I know you’re better with people than I am, which is why you’re the one who has to socialize and I’m sorry for that. But you also said I’m not allowed to break any fingers tonight and I won't be held responsible if he tries to touch you again.”

He swore he didn’t have a possessive bone in his body until you sauntered into his life, giving him hopes and dreams and longing.

You laughed at him, a seductive sound that had a few heads turning. “You do know I can break his fingers myself, right?”

He chuckled, leaning close to your ear and tickling your skin with his breath. “I know you're more than capable of kicking his ass. One of your many wonderful qualities,” he whispered. People underestimated you and that was always a mistake. “But I still don't like that he touched you like he wanted to own you.”

You rang a finger along his bowtie. “We all know who owns me and we know I own you, too,” you said, holding up your hand to show him your wedding ring. He tried to ignore how fast his heart pounded at the sight of his ring on your finger, the pledge you two made together. “In a very healthy, non-toxic sort of way, of course.”

He smirked, glancing around at the crowd before looking back at you. “Of course, but maybe we could give everyone a friendly reminder that we’re a happily married and loyal couple.” His voice dropped lower, teasingly. He wanted to make your heart race like his. “Or maybe we could sneak away for a bit. Make this night a little more interesting.”

“Sneak away?” You feigned innocence as you blinked at him. He was certain any innocence you had before he met you was gone thanks to him. “Whatever for?”

“You know what for. It’ll be like that expo we went to a few months ago.” Bucky tilted his head slightly, studying your face closely. He easily picked up your sharp inhale, the way your pupils dilated and lips parted. It was clear that sneaking off was something that very much interested you. “C’mon, baby. This gala is boring and neither of us want to be here. My idea is much more fun. You know it is.”

He touched your cheek, your skin warm under his hand. He wasn’t able to keep you in bed earlier like he wanted, but the thought of pulling you away and having you right here and now had his stomach fluttering with excitement. “This gala is boring,” you agreed carefully.

“Then let’s make it exciting.” His thumb brushed across your lips and it took everything in him not to push his thumb inside. “You made me come to this thing. Don’t I deserve something for showing up and behaving?”

“I haven't made you come yet.” His muscles went taut when you briefly sucked the digit into your mouth, electricity crackling under his skin. He admired your boldness, how you were unashamedly yourself in front of these people. You didn't and would never care what they thought. “And I didn't make you come to this event, but I can make it worth your while.”

He held your chin and moved close until only an inch separated your faces. Your eyes gleamed with a hunger that rivaled his. The air crackled between you, daring you both to give over to your obvious desires. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?” He rasped when you suddenly pulled back and helped move him across the floor in a dance.

“My plan? I thought sneaking away was your idea,” you smiled, guiding you both closer to the open doorway. “But if we can find a closet or dark corner, you can do whatever you want with me. And I’ll even let you fuck my throat first thing tomorrow morning for behaving.”

A rumbling, deep groan escaped his throat. His fingers dug in possessively when he gripped the nape of your neck and tilted your head so he could taste your skin. Your body molding against his, soft and yielding against his solid frame, wasn’t enough. There were too many clothes in the way and he wanted to bury himself deep inside you.

“You drive me crazy, Mrs. Barnes,” he whispered, lifting his head to look into your eyes.

“The feeling is mutual, Mr. Barnes.” You bit your lip once he waltzed you for enough away from prying eyes, the heat flaring between you. “I need you.”

Every nerve ending came to life when he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. His tongue plunged past your lips, holding you steady as he devoured you. You melted against him, which only brought forth his primal hunger more. His intensity never scared you and he would be forever thankful for that.

You gasped as your back hit a wall, the sounds of chatter and music from the ballroom muffled. Your nails scraped the fabric of his jacket, both of you lost in sensations of lust and desire. As one of your hands continued its journey to his shoulder, the other wandered down his torso and didn’t stop until you gripped his thick erection through his pants.

He abruptly broke the kiss when you gave him a squeeze, his eyes wild. “Fuck,” he breathed, gripping your wrist and pushing more firmly against your hand. “You feel that? That’s what you do to me.”

With dizzying speed, he spun you so that your back pressed against his front. You panted as his hand ventured through the slit of your dress and brushed along your trembling thigh. “Wait until you feel how wet I am,” you whispered, grinding your hips back against his.

His mouth brushed the exposed column of your throat, alternating between small bites and open mouthed kisses. “Still get wet for me?” He asked, massaging your breast with his vibranium hand and drawing another gasp from you when he pinched your nipple. He marveled at how much he could feel with that hand and how he’d never harm you with it.

“Have you seen yourself? One look from you and I’m soaked.” Your back arched as he bit down again. He wished he saw himself the way you did. “And you’re my husband. That craving for you isn’t going away.”

He rocked his hips against yours, seeking out more contact and friction as his cock throbbed and heart swelled. Marriage wasn’t a constant honeymoon phase. It took work. Effort. Compromise. But you were worth every moment, every struggle, every up and down.

Laughter from a few feet away had him lifting his head, both of you looking toward where the noise was coming from. “Fuck,” he snarled, wanting to scream at whoever it was to go the fuck away.

“There’s a closet around the corner. We just need to pick the lock,” you told him, smiling over your shoulder. “I may have scoped out the place in case this happened.”

He chuckled, utterly in awe of you. “I fucking love you,” he exhaled.

Walking with an aching hard-on wasn’t easy, but he managed to get you both further away from the ballroom. He picked the lock with record speed once you got to the door and moved you both inside. He flipped on the light, wanting to see as much of you as he could. For a moment, you two stared at each other and waited for the other to make a move. He loved the anticipation.

“I’m disappointed in you, Mr. Barnes,” you said, reaching for the doorknob to lock it. He was about to ask what he possibly did to upset you when you smirked. “You didn’t mention anything about me not wearing any panties.”

His cock was ready to burst from his pants. “Because that fucking clown out there interupted me,” he rumbled, pinning you against the door and crowding your body. His nose touched yours as he hiked your dress up, desperate to kiss you again. Eager to feel your wetness. “You trust me?”

It was a question he always asked. You put all of yourself into his care, your body, mind, heart, and soul. It was only fair that he made sure you still wanted him to be the one for you today, tomorrow, and every day after that. Even then a single lifetime would never be enough for him. He wanted a thousand lives with you.

“Always,” you said, an ache in your voice that he couldn’t resist. He fused his lips with yours, building up the fire all over again when his hand found your damp heat. The most intimate part of you where you allowed him to make himself at home. Your hands shook as you went to undo his pants, wanting to free him. “And you trust me?”

It wasn’t just his heart that contracted. His very soul trembled, wanting to wrap itself up in your light and love. “With everything in me,” he promised, sighing when he pulled his cock free from his underwear. “I’ll worship you later. Those gorgeous tits of yours. Your sweet cunt.”

Once you were home, he’d slip off your dress and give every beautiful inch of your body the attention it deserved. He’d draw a bath for you, too, and hopefully join you so he could simply hold you. But he was desperate for you now. He thought he’d burn if he didn’t have you.

You hiked a leg around him, moving your hips enticingly. There was only so much he could take. And who wouldn’t fall under the tempting spell of your body? “I’m ready for you.” Your soft moan echoed in his ears as he trailed a finger along your slit to your clit, barely touching it. He knew it would shoot small sparks through your body until you begged for more. “I mean it, Barnes. Get. Your cock. In me.”

“My needy little wife,” he whispered against your lips as he gripped the base of his cock and probed your entrance. The breathy sound you made when he began to push in had his blood pulsing in euphoria. It was a wonder he fit some days with how tight you were, but your slick heat stretched and welcomed him every time.

“My needy husband,” you smiled as you enveloped him completely, your fingers curling in his hair.

“What kind of man isn’t needy for his wife?” He began to thrust in deep, deliberate strokes. It matched the rhythm of the music in the distant ballroom, the two of you creating your own sultry dance. Maybe he would go up in flames. At least he’d have you to burn with. “Fuck, your body was made for my cock.”

Each snap of his hips tore more moans and whimpers from your throat and sent shockwaves through his system. You clenched around him with a smile, looking like a debauched angel. “My pussy was made for you, so ruin it.”

He groaned, his pulse beating strongly as his grip tightened on your hips. He fucked you without restraint, just as greedy for you as you were for him. Allowing himself to feel you and what you did to him was everything he was denied for so long. His life had only been order. Pain. You let him lose control. You gave him pleasure. Even a home.

I love you.

“I love you, too, Bucky,” you panted, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone as his eyes closed against the emotions threatening to surface. “I love you, too.”

His pace picked up, urgent, frenzied. At this rate, he might explode into fragments from your declaration and how good you felt. “You love me?” He bit out, his eyes opening and breaths harsh as he felt you clench again.

You cried out, his hand flying up to brace your head before it hit the door. “So much,” you moaned as you gazed at him. You were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Fierce in love and loyalty, patient and steadfast. He feared some days he’d need you more than you needed him, but you drove that thought from his mind. “I’m yours.”

“I’m not gonna last,” he warned. He couldn’t with the way you looked at him, the way your walls gripped him, knowing you were his.

“Neither am…” Your mouth fell open as your release hit you, your fluids drenching him. It was a wonder to watch you go over the edge in a blissful orgasm. He wanted to be right there with you.

“There you go. Good girl,” he encouraged, your body still tight around his cock. He erupted in one last thrust, his head falling back with an animalistic roar. “Fuck…”

Bucky braced a hand against the door, the other holding you like a lifeline. If only the two of you were at home so he could properly cuddle with you. His breathing remained ragged for a bit as he came down from his high, your breathing beginning to steady, too. He couldn't help but smile as he took in the sight of you thoroughly ravaged and satisfied. “Worth every second of being here,” he sighed, slowly pulling out of your twitching hole. You inhaled when he moved a hand down and swiped two fingers along the mess seeping out of you. “Clean them off for me, baby,” he ordered huskily, bringing them to your mouth.

Obediently, you parted your lips and allowed him to push his fingers in. You swirled your tongue around them to taste your combined essence, moaning at the tangy flavor. He tucked himself away once you finished up, afraid that he’d fuck you all over again if he didn’t get completely dressed. It didn’t stop him from gazing longingly at you as he fixed his jacket.

And it didn’t stop him from imagining your mouth around his cock the next morning.

“Now.” You grimmaced slightly as he helped you steady yourself and straighten out your dress. He knew that look. It was the look you got for a split second whenever the sticky remnants continued to trickle down your thighs. He loved having that claim on you. “How do you expect me to go back to the gala after that?”

“I don’t,” he smirked, his hands moving back to your hips as he snuck in a gentle kiss. “I think it’s time to get you home and back in our bed where you belong. I promised I’d worship you, remember?”

You nodded, your eyes still slightly dazed. “On one condition.”

He titled his head. “What’s that?”

A slow smile curved your mouth, his heart pounding and cock twitching back to life at your answer, “You put a baby in me tonight.”

So, lovelies, was it okay? I feel rusty. And who wants a future fic of Bucky breeding you? Just me? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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mostofthingsmostofthetime · 2 years ago

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Except Peeta, probably due to how he was raised, dosn't seem to see himself as cool 🙁

There’s a lot of things that I love about the hunger games but one of them is that the main romance, at its core, is the ‘weird girl/cool guy who’s obsessed with her’ trope

#like i definitely see him suffering from imposter syndrome for a long time because of his home life #like sure kids at school didnt seem to hate him but he was only tagging along with them really #just being agreeable #saying what he knew they wanted to hear #because at least for a few short hours a week he wanted to be liked #even if he never really stood out in a crowd #even if she never looked he's way again #after becoming friends with that older boy #maybe the original reason peeta is so good with words and so charismatic was because he never felt enough growing up #so he learnt to put on a performance #oh i just ran into a door don't worry about me delly #but there was always that worry that people wouldn't like the darker side to him #the side that cried behind the bins sometimes #the side that judged he's dad for never doing anything #the side that longed to trade places with a boy he'd never spoken to #it just makes me think of how Katniss felt after peeta first insulted her in mockingjay #how him finally viewing her and not liking what he sees makes her hate him #there might have been a part of peeta that knew deep down that the way he was behaviouring during his highjacking was hurtful #too raw not nice not right not likeable #was pushing people away #making him seem like the bad guy/a lost cause #and he obviously hates katniss for it #but I wonder if he could have also been projecting he's own self hatred onto katniss because he hates her for finally seeing him like this #he's not the boy with the bread anymore or a fellow victor anymore #he's small covered in scars and chained to a bed in a place he's never been before #he's prey he's crazy he's scared he's angry #he can't move but the cage is gone and the beatings have stopped #now there's just her

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myladysapphire · 8 months ago

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Solace

As the daughter of Alicent Hightower you had been fed stories of your older sister and her children, so when you are bethrothed to Jacaerys you arent too sure as to what to expect, and go into your courtship expecting the worse, only to find out you couldn't have been more wrong.

word count: 5,908

CW: MDI 18+, smut, fluff. p in v, fingering, loss of virginity, oral (f reciving), incest not beta read!

Jacaerys Veleryon x Fem!reader

a/n - no war au

Masterlist

She had been betrothed to Prince Jacearys since they were both children, before most noble children even knew the expectation of one day getting married off and yet since the day of said betrothal, they had not spent a single moment together. Nor had you exchanged a single letter nor a single thought of the other, at least she had not.

In all honesty she had simply lived as if he and their impending marriage did not exist, so when he returned for his brother's hearing and for their courtship to officially begin, they were at a complete loss of where to begin, they knew of no common interests, and there family’s had been pitted against each other their entire lives. Seeing as they had never been close in their youth, nor present much time together, seeing as she had kept to herself or Heleana, and Jacearys having spent most of his time with his brother and hers.

She had always preferred solitude, preferred to keep to her books, painting, and her beloved dragon Gaelithox. Gaelithox perhaps the only being she would spend day after day with willingly.

she had hoped he would be similar. Though from what she could remember, he always seemed to find himself surrounded by others, not once does she remember seeing him alone. Perhaps if she had then she would have gotten to know him. But for her crowds were her worst fear, talking to more than one person or anyone was really. But Jacearys was always the centre of attention, with his good looks and charisma, it seemed he never begged for attention, it just always simply found him. She hoped marrying him would not force her to become the same.

How they expected her to one day be queen confused her. With Jacearys as the future king she would have all these responsibilities and have to do everything she hated. Her mother had made sure to tell her that, to start to show her what would be expected of her.

For all she knew it was a scare tactic from her mother, y/n knew her mother hated them, she would call them bastards and would whisper in her ear more and more rumours about her eldest sister and her eldest son.

So, when he arrived all she could do was watch him. Scared to start a conversation, and too nervous to make any moves towards him. So she stood from the sidelines as he found himself surrounded by the keeps inhabitants.

As she watched him at dinner, following lucerys victory of being declared the future lord of the tides, she very much doubted he would like solitude as much as she did. The few moments where he found himself not in conversation, he almost seemed nervous. She feared he would never understand her fear of crowds, or her hate for balls and feasts. Nor understand what her mother referred to as her quirks. He was loud and charismatic, all traits she lacked. He was drawn to crowds and seemed to thrive at the events she hated. But he seemed to suffer in the moments she loved the moments alone, the quiet moments.

She had been forced to sit away from her usual seat and sit nearer to the centre, a place where all eyes were on her. She sat opposite her eldest sister, Rhaenyra, with Jacearys on one side, and Aegon on the other.

Aegon had been making crude jokes all evening, whispering and taunting her. Though she had become extremely talented at ignoring him, it was starting to bug her, and all she wished was to retire to bed.

Luckily, he seemed to be the only one interested in her, until Rhaenyra decided to start a conversation with her. She had never really known her eldest sister, having always been stopped by her mother. She remembered when her and Rhaenyra would have bi-weekly garden tea, until her mother found out and banned her from even going near Rhaenrya chambers.

Over the years her mother had told her only the worst about Rhaenyra, and forced her own hatred or mayhap envy of her onto y/n. And yet she only ever seemed to be kind to her when they did interact.

“Sister?” y/n heard her call out.

“Yes princess?” she responded, stuttering from being addressed.

“Are you quite alright, you look quite pale?” her face was concerned, as did Jaceaerys when he turned from his seat to face ger at his mother’s words.

“i-“ you looked down starting to pull at the skin on your fingers, “i do not find i fit in well in such gatherings, it's just stress” she spoke, voice shaking as y/n looked down and bringing her fingers to her mouth biting the skin around them.

“Would you like me to escort you back to your chambers?” She heard Jacearys ask in concern.

At this her mother’s attention was captured, as she snapped her head around, ending her conversation with her grandsire, in doing so capturing the whole tables attention “what’s wrong dearests?”

“i- i would like to retire mother?” y/n almost begged, desperate for the offered reprieve.

“of course Aem-“her mother began, before being interrupted, clearly offering Aemond to escort her to her chambers.

“I shall escort her,” Jacearys interrupted, standing from his seat and offering his hand that

she took it nervously. These were the most words either had spoken for each other, at least that she could remember.

Walking down the halls of the keep, she found herself in a comfortable silence. Though Jacearys seemed to find it rather uncomfortable as he began to ramble on about gods knows what.

“so i told Luke -“

She hummed, responding to a question she probably heard minutes ago, she hated to admit it but she was seriously struggling to follow whatever he was talking about. The topic of which changed near every second.

He stopped walking suddenly, causing her to be pulled back as their arms were still interlinked. He seemed to finally realise he was talking nonsense and had lost her completely “I’m sorry, I’ve been rambling on and you can’t even follow a word of what i was saying i-“

“oh no i- i, well yes, but I believe you are just nervous… as am il” y/n spoke softly.

He nodded, “your right, i- i have been trying to think of anything i know about you, any shared memories and yet i can not find a single thing” he shook his head, seemingly ashamed.

“oh well… we never really talked until today, i always much preferred my own company to that of others”

“oh i- really?” he sounded confused as if spending time by himself was beyond him.

“i always found i was always more myself when with others, in fact i find myself nervous when I am alone '' he spoke, slowly making sure not to ramble on once more.

“I suppose I have never found such solace with another person as to feel myself with another person” you looked down, she too seemed so polar to one another and feared her solitude would always be interrupted once she married him.

“I understand that, Luke is the same way” he looked at her then, “i hope that i can be the person you find solace in, one day..” he took her hands, stoking them softly, it was always a hard thing for her, touch. Always avoiding it, and only taking hugs to shaking someone’s hand when she knew social construct dictated she should. And yet with him it was fine it seemed nice almost, something she could get used to, even find solace in.

“I would like that” she nodded, and he gave her a sweet smile, relief almost washing over his face. He took her arm once more and led her back to her chambers, this time instead of rambling, he simply asked her questions about herself, and for once she happily answered them.

The next day she was awoken to the sound of rapped knocks on her door. Though she normally slept in, it was still rather early for such a thing. Opening the door she saw Jacaerys standing with a bouquet of flowers, more specifically peonies, a flower that you would often find embroidered on several of her dresses.

“Prince-“

”Jace” he interrupted “ please call me Jace, we are to be a married soon it is only right”

“Jace” she said slowly, getting used to the informality she lacked with even her own family , “what are you doing here so early?”

“Early?” he laughed, as if if the idea that nine in the morning could ever be considered early, “i suppose it could be”

”Why are you here?” She asked, almost irritated.

“Sorry,” he spoke, reaching his arm out to present her with the peonies'' i simply came to ask if we may break our fast, with the hope you had yet to eat and yet it seems i woke you,” he shook his head “i apologise, i am used to waking up early for training. I should have thought you may have preferred to sleep in” he looked down nervously.

Sniffing the flowers, she moved into her room, leaving the door agar as an invitation for Jace to come in. ”I would like that” she nodded, “Though this is still rather early for me, so i shall need to call my maids to help me dress and prepare our breakfast”

”early?” He again asked, “what time do you normally wake?”

”Mostly before noon, but not before 10,” you looked up with a small smile, “i find i can sleep the days away if allowed, it is one of the few things i can never seem to get enough off”

He laughed, the nerves leaving him slightly. “I find i am always awake by eight, at the latest, sadly i do not possess the same skill to sleep in, a skill i am much jealous of.” He smiled, “ i shall have the guards fetch your maids and order breakfast, and perhaps tomorrow we may share lunch instead”

“I would like that,” she nodded.

Their fast was spent with the exchange of shy smiles and timid questions asked, as time went on they grew more comfortable and found their rhythm, and she found the tiredness she felt from talking to others never came.

The next moon was perfect, each day she would wake, dress, then Jace would meet her and she broke her fast and he took his second meal. Then they would walk the gardens. After a few days, she confessed how typically she would ride Gaelithox the second she awoke, and soon they found they were going for dragon rides every morning. Vermax and Gaelithox enjoying each other's company. Every second was filled with chatter, and those few that were not, neither felt any awkwardness, just contentment, solace.

They seemed to spend almost every second of every day with each other and yet she not once found it tiring, or wished for a reprieve, she simply wished for more.

There were even days where she wished for no talking and Jace was more than happy to spend the whole day in silence, simply enjoying each other's company, as they went about their own tasks.

She felt as if she was learning everything there was to know about him, through his stories she felt as if she knew his brothers, his family, like she had grown up with them , and not just watching them. She learnt his quirks and he learnt hers. And every day they seemed to learn something new.

But today was the first day she would spend without him since his arrival, with her father , the king, asking for Jace to accompany the small council meetings from now on.

So she had planned to spend the day alone, resuming her old daily routine even on the days where Jace was not in her company.

That was until her mother decided to skip the small council meeting and spend the day with her.

”Do not ever trust them, dearest” her mother tutted, brushing through her hair. “They only wish for you and he to grow close so when the time comes you are on their side-“

She had tried to tune her out, but the instant comments answered messing with her head. She felt as if she was falling in love with Jace and yet they way her mother spoke of him, it was as if he was worse than Aegon, a fact she knew was not true.

“mother!” she finally snapped , shaking her head she pulled away from her mother, “i do not care! Jace shall be my husband and as you have reminded me since the day I first bleed, that my duty is to my husband and his family before my own.” she then whispered to herself “a fact you do not follow yourself” continuing she said “ so why now when it is the son of the woman you despise, am I to do the opposite?” It was so out of character for her and yet years and years of hearing the words bastard and betrayal and whispers of war, she was finished.

She fully pulled away from her mother and stood up, straightening her dress, “this past moon i have felt more seen and known by Jace than anyone my whole life. My whole life I have detested company, and chatter, and have at any and all attempts avoided events. and now i find the one person i do not detest, and would falsely attend any event he wishes me to, someone i enjoy spending time with, my future husband! You wish to ruin it for me! Do you not want me to be happy?” She nearly yelled, her face turning from the sweet, shy and docile face it had always been had turned angry “you clearly do not wish for Heleana to have happiness, as clear with her marriage to Aegon at three and ten!” She was steaming, years of biting her younger so as to not gain attention, or do more talking that’s necessary, bitterness flowed through her.

”dearest i-“ her mother started, moving towards and reaching for her to pull her in a hug, only to be met by an instant rejection.

”I simply wish for whatever war you are making up in your head to end, so you can finally allow me the happiness I deserve!” And with that she walked about, only to be met with Jace and Rhaenyra's face as she walked out.

Jace chased after her, leaving his mother left to deal with Alicent.

”y/n” he called out, “y/n stop!”

“No, I can't,” she said as she continued down the halls, though she did slow down, allowing Jace a chance to catch up with her. “if i stop walking I’ll march right back in there and apologies!” she proclaimed.

“I'm sure you won't, you did the right thing '' Jace spoke, still trying to catch up with her.

“i have bite my tongue my whole life, never expressing my thoughts or opinions, and today i did!” she spoke, as she realised she was walking towards Jace’s chambers. She didn’t even think of where she was going, having stormed out of her own rooms, it seemed that in this past month his room had become a comfort to her.

Finally catching up in time to open the door to his rooms. “y/n you don’t have to explain, you didn’t do anything, you just spoke up for yourself and…for me” y/n swear she saw him blush.

“i know it was hard for you, that talking and expressing yourself is something your struggle with…but you stood up for yourself it’s nothing you have to feel bad about it’s something you should be proud of” he grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips “and in all honestly i was rather impressed”

“you where?” she blushed, stepping one closer.

he nodded, “ you know me and my mother were coming to your chambers to discuss the wedding” he said wrapping his arm around her waist. a movement and touch she had now grown to love. “ We are to be married in a fortnight” his face moved closer to her.

“We are?” she questioned, her breathing getting heavier.

he nodded, there faces so close they were sharing their breaths “yes, soon you will be my wife, and i your husband and your mothers silly little rants will have no sway any longer”

she gasped, he leant forward and finally kissed her, it was soft and sweet, leaving them both a blushing mess.

The next two weeks moved slowly, filled with wedding planning.

Her relationship with her mother was strained, finding most of the planning to be with her eldest sister Rhaenrya and even Heleana more so than her own mother. And the few times she was there she simply sent a glare in their direction and took at every laugh and smile.

She found that she rather enjoyed her sister's company, the two having a few similar interests. Rhaenyra seemed kind and cared for her children a great deal and as a result she did with her too.

She knew her mother cared, but watching her mother interact with Rhaenyra highlighted that most of her mothers objections were actually ones of jealousy. She was Jealous of Rhaenyra and more so of Daemon, as he received more glares the more he and Rhaenrya showed affection to one another. So much jealousy that she swear she saw some longing in her gaze whenever she stared at Rhaenrya.

The day before her wedding she finally found herself alone with her mother though from the way her mother barged into her room she knew the conversation the pair were about to have would not be a pleasant one.

“sit down dearest” she spoke as she herself got comfortable. Doing as her mother bid, she sat beside her. Her mother quickly took her hand in hers, tight enough that even if she were to recoil it would not break her free.

“When I had this. Conversation with your sister, she already knew some of what was to come, with her Marrying Aegon, and will he loved to taunt her with the gory details for moons before their wedding” Alicent took a deep breath. “On the morrow you will be wed, and with that shall come some expectations”

she nodded, not quite sure what her mother meant. “not only will you be taking on some of my duties but there is also the expectation of an heir…” she looked at her then, expecting her to interrupt in some way. She stayed quiet, she knew she would have to have children but how the act itself was done was peculiar to her.

Her mother shifted uncomfortably, “once you are wed the marriage must be consummated” she awkwardly grabbed at her hands, “it will be uncomfortable but some pleasure can be found in the act” she sent her mother peculiar look, causing her mother to cough uncomfortably and once again move to explain “your husband will…insert himself in you, and spill his seed, allowing a babe to be made, though it can take some time so i shall prey you are lucky and conceive soon…”

she looked down quietly “mother “she spoke slowly, “Aegon is my brother, though he and i aren’t close i have…walked in on him numerous times, time enough to know what sex is”

Her mother was shocked, looking down and shaking her head, “your brother has no shame-“

“mother, i also have a septa who taught me” she laughed, Heleana only did not know because she was young mother, i am aware, in fact me and-“ she cut herself off not wanting her mother to become more shocked at hearing how her and Jace have already talked of the wedding night.

They were both inexperienced, though Jace had been taken to brothels by Daemon he had never actually done anything, wanting to save himself for his wife. A fact she was most happy about.

She loved Jace, she realised. He was everything she did not expect, though he was chatty and loud, he was also kind and sweet, a perfect gentleman. She and him had more in common than not, they both loved to read though Jace found little time to do so, so was more than happy to listen to her ramble on and on about the last book she read. She had shown him how to paint and draw, a skill he, though terrible at, found rather enjoyable, especially when he got the flicking paint at her. She herself had even found she loved a few of his hobbies or well if you can call sword fighting a hobby.

she remembered the morning, it was still early in their courtship, the first week in. She and Jace had yet to sleep and yet they could see dawn breaking through the windows in his room. They had spent the whole day and night talking, getting to know each other. “it’s dawn already?” Jace sighed as he moved from his spot on the sofa. she sighed from the movement, missing his warmth.

“it’s seems so” she hummed

“it’ll be time for training soon.” he spoke, not necessarily to her.

“Do you train alone?”

“Here I do, On Dragonstone Daemon is typically dragging me and Luke out of bed the second the sun begins to rise but here he has no desire to train” he looked at her, “why don’t you join me?” he asked.

“i have never even touched a sword” she exclaimed, as if the idea was a mad one.

He grinned “exactly, it’ll be most entertaining!”

she laughed, “fine, but you must promise to show me your high Valyrian!” y/n declared, he had been complaining how bad his Valyrian was but refused to show her, despite her being fluent and offering to teach him.

He sighed, then a big grin filled his face “very well, let us teach one another, i teach you in swordsmanship and you teach me high Valyrian”

she laughed “very well! though i make no promises to these swordplay lessons!”

They met again in the training yard, both in training clothes. She had borrowed hers from Jace and she was sure he was trying to sabotage her. His clothes hung from her in an almost comical way, he himself had laughed as she nearly tripped netting the training yard.

“you look beautiful” he said though his eyes were full of mirth as he took in the way his clothes hung from her.

“Perhaps you could have given me some of Luke's clothes instead” she sighed, a frown forming her face as she hung her arm up to show just how big his sleeves were compared to her arms.

“Next time we shall!” he declared, stopping his laughter to then pass her a wooden sword “for now it’s fine.”

The sword was heavier than she was expecting, as shown by how she nearly dropped it.

“do you do any exercise?” he asked, seeing her near miss with the sword.

she scoffed “no, do i look like someone who does?” she asked bewildered.

he laughed “no i suppose not, and knowing you it doesn't surprise me that you do not” he took the sword off her “perhaps we should start with some exercise”

“what?” she asked, she hated doing anything that could be remotely referred to as exercise.

“Don’t worry, just some light exercise, to build stamina” he looked at her then, something passing through his eyes. something she had yet to see.

He had made her run ten laps, stretch in more easily than she knew possible, And then finally let her hold the sword. “You know I was hoping you wouldn’t take this so seriously” she sighed, hitting the dummy repeatedly. Jace corrects her technique with each hit. “really?”

“Of course not, when you said it I had hoped we would just be jesting around” she sighed dramatically, before moving to place the sword down on the rack. “I think that this ‘lesson’ is over.” she started to walk away only for Jace to grab her arm.

“Wait!” he said, pulling her back to him gently. “Are you really not enjoying yourself?” he asked with a sad smile on his face.

y/n sighed, before a small smile graced her face “no, but perhaps hearing you speak some high Valyrian may make it more joyous.” she spoke, though she was enjoying herself a little, though it would definitely not be a hobby she would be taking up, though watching him practice his swordsmanship, that is a hobby she will be taking up.

“I- really?” he asked, his face unsure, “nyk-e don’t ȳdragon ziree sȳr”

She laughed, his accent and pronunciation were all over the place, perhaps she was better at swordsmanship after one lesson that he was at high Valyrian after years of lessons, “it’s gaoman daor ȳdragon ziry sȳrī”

I do not speak it well

“See what I mean!” he exclaimed, as she continued to laugh.

“oh Jace, gaomagon daor worry nyke sure kesā jiōragon sȳrkta isse daor jēda” she taunted.

do not worry I’m sure you will get better in no time

“I have no idea what you just said '' he sighed, shaking his head, “but at least i can hold a sword properly” he taunted back to her.

“Hey! It's my first lesson, have you been learning high Valyrian for how long?” she questioned, a gleam in her eyes.

“hāre jēdri” he replied, a smile as he realised he had pronounced it correctly

Three years

She hummed, beginning to circle him, “hāre jēdri? funny seeing hae heleanas riñar ȳdragon sȳrkta eglie valyrain than ao se issi balrey hāre pōntāla”

three years? Funny seeing as Heleanas children speak better high Valyrian than you and they are balrey three themselves

“I- well, stop taunting me!” he protested.

“Only if we can stop this, will I have reached my yearly exercise limit.. For the year!” she joked, dramatically falling, conveniently into his arms.

“Fine, fine!” he said, “but you can not mention to anyone about my high Valyrian.” he brought her back to her feet.

“Oh please who would i tell? se lo nyke gōntan, skorkydoso would ao sesīr gīmigon?” she laughed, starting to walk away, only to have Jace chase her back all the way back to her chambers.

and if i did, how would you even know?

It was safe to say she never participated in his training again, but on the odd days she was awake when he went, she found she did in fact enjoy watching him.

It took a few attempts before they found a hobby they both loved equally. Painting. She had been painting for as long as she can remember, Jace however had taken it up about two weeks ago, but seemed to love it as much as she.

“Let's paint each other!” Jace declared, as he saw the paints y/n left out.

She hesitated, “have you ever painted before?”

“No, but how hard could it be?” She laughed at that, but said nothing.

They sat opposite each other, their art facing only themselves. They gave themselves an hour before they would show each other what they had painted.

Jace went first. He seemed so proud of himself. To give him credit it was fairly good, though it looked nothing like her.

“It's good!” she exclaimed, “i like it” she reached forward to grab it “i shall have it framed” she hummed. Jace smiled widely at that.

“Show me yours!” he asked, or more declared as he turned the canvas around himself.

His face was shocked, mouth wide, “i- wow” he was at a loss of words. “This is incredible!” he exclaimed, his face one of awe, “and you said mine was good!, you were lying!”

She laughed, “no-no it is, i promise” i grabbed his art then, comparing the two, before throwing his on the floor, “oh please, mine is rubbish, yours is wow! I think it shall become my official portrait!” he exclaimed standing up and walking to the doors with it.

“woah ! where are you going?” she asked standing up to follow him.

“Too show everyone” he stated as if it was the obvious answer.

He showed it to everyone he saw, a blushing y/n on his tail.

“Mother.” she spoke, back once more in the present, “i trust him, more than anyone and anything” at that her mother relaxed, and for the first time in what felt like a long time, she saw a real smile gracing her mothers face.

The day of the wedding came, she had expected nerves and jitters, and yet all she felt was contentment. She knew she was lucky, most brides barely knew their husband before they wed them, and she knew Jace and he knew her. She knew his quirks, his hobbies, and he knew hers. They were polar opposites, and yet they fit so perfectly together. She was excited for this day, and as was he.

The dress she wore was her mothers dress. A white dress with sleeves coming down to her elbow before dropping down to the length of her dress showing a deep red. On her shoulder sat two dragons, dragons she had changed to represent Vermax and Gaelithox. The dragons were joined together and connected in an intricate pattern on her bodice. She wore no jewellery, only a small head piece, woven into the braids on her hair.

“You look beautiful” her mother declared. “Are you ready?”

y/n nodded, taking one final look at herself in the mirror, one last time before leaving her room.

The wedding was a blur, it went by so fast and before she knew it, Jace and her were declaring their love and sealing it with a kiss. They exchanged giddy smiles as they left the

sept, their hands never wavering from their grip. The night celebrations went by quickly. The only time they never once left each others sides. It was the first event y/n ever truly enjoyed, they had danced four times that night, feasted to their heart's content, and enjoyed the first few hours of being newlyweds.

Then it was time for the bedding. She had never been more grateful than when Jace shouted at the men attempting to drag her away, and he himself picking her up and taking her to their now shared chambers.

“I am sorry for that.” he spoke, taking her hand in his, “I had made it clear we would not have a bedding, but -”

“Aegon had other plans' ' she interrupted, “do not worry, it's just who he is' ' she laughed.

For the first time in weeks the silence between them was awkward. Both knowing what was to come, but not how to start.

After a few moments Jace finally moved forward, he reached for her slowly, one had wrapping around her waist, the other reaching up to caress her face. They both looked at each other shyly, before Jace moved in closer, his lips capturing hers. It was soft and slow.

His lips still joined with hers they moved further into the room, his hand moving from her waist to her back, reaching and slowly unlacing the binds of her bodice.

“Are you okay with this?” he asked, breaking away from her lips.

She nodded, “yes.” As she slowly reached to pull of her dress, leaving her in just her chemise.

Jace groaned his pants tightening, he reached forward once again capturing her lips in his.

They slowly moved towards the bed, her hands reaching towards his clothes, slowly taking them off and leaving him in his small clothes.

There lips breaking apart, they both took each other in, before finally lying on the bed. Jace continued to kiss her slowly moving from her lips to her neck, his hands reaching down to her should and moving the straps of her chemise down, revealing her breasts.

“gods” he groaned, “you’re so beautiful” he said as he moved down to kiss her breasts. Slowly moving down her body, removing her chemise as he did, leaving her bare beneath him.

He was level with her heat, he had heard of kissing there and the thought of tasting her in such a way made a groan escape him. “Can I?” he begged, unsure of what he meant y/n nodded.

Jace dived in, giving a cautious lick through her folds, he groaned at the taste and quickly went back licking and tasting like a starved man. She herself was moaning in pleasure, her hands clutching the back of his neck, tightening when he finally found her bud.

Releasing the reaction form touching the small bud of nerves, he made sure to focus his efforts on it, sucking it into his mouth, and bringing his fingers up to her entrance, beginning to circle her juices and slowly tease his way into her.

Tensing at the feeling of the intrusion, she gripped further onto him, and started to move away. With his spare hand he gripped onto her and pulled her back to him. His finger now pully in he instead started to focus his intentions of pumping them in and out of her. Causing her to start moaning once again in pleasure, even more so when his second and third finger entered her. Soon she was reaching her peak.

He slowly backed away from her, pulling down his small clothes to revel his hard, thick long length.

“gods” they both groaned at the sight of the others naked body. He slowly crawled back onto the bed, his body covering hers. He once again took her lips with his, in a passionate and heated kiss, his legs slowly parted hers as he positioned himself at her entrance.

“Are you sure?” he once again asked, caressing her face.

She nodded, covering the hand on her face with her own and reaching forward to kiss him again, “yes” she consented.

He nodded, kissing her once more as he slowly entered her.

She groaned at the stretch, feeling at slight sting as he slowly entered her. Her face contorted in quick discomfort, but quickly faded as he settled himself fully inside her, allowing her time to adjust.

“gods, you feel amazing” he groaned, moving his head to her neck. “can I move?” he groaned, near begged.

“yes” she said, and he wasted no time, slowly pumping in and out of her. Slowly the discomfort faded and all she could find was pure pleasure.

Moving in and out of her, Jace was moaning, kissing her neck with each thrust, he had never felt such pleasure as he did in this moment.

Slowly picking up the pace, he soon found that sweet spot inside her, that turned her into a moaning mess. Wrapping her arms around his neck she was soon grinding her hips against his, chasing her peak, and he was soon reaching one of his own, spilling his seed inside of her.

Slowly pulling from her, her moved to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her towards him, he kissed her slowly and whispered, “I love you”. In that moment she felt what could only be described as solace.

That night, they did not sleep a wink, nor would they in the moons that followed. Their marriage was a harmonious one, one of love and joy. And when the king finally passed, and Rhaenrya was queen, there was no division of factions of house Targaryen, she liked to think that their marriage has helped branch the units, and make them once more a family.

Even more so when nine moons after their wedding she birthed their first child.

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luxerians · 20 hours ago

Text

The Last Mask (17.1)

Hwang In-ho/Oh Young-il/Player 001 x Reader

Chapter 17.1 - Keep You From Burning [SFW]

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 18

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NSFW ver. : Chapter 17.2