#he’s getting that attention and feeling of wanting to feel good about himself in a different way from sailom rn

[shaisuki]

“Caleb?”

“What is it, pipsqueak?”

“Have you ever kissed someone?”

You asked him out of the blue while munching on the snack he bought for you. Seated on the stairs at the front of the store. The wind's cold. A telltale sign of the night to come. The skies are purplish with hues of orange and red. The can of soda sweats with condensation. Leaving a imprint of it on the concrete floor.

“What about it, pipsqueak?”

Caleb brows furrow at the sudden question. You were both in high school and neither of the romance stuff were discussed except when you both watched a romance drama that aired on the evening. He didn't even know you were interested.

”No. I mean that's normal. You're popular with girls and I know you must kissed one of them right? Riiight?”

Absentmindedly crinkling a wrapper of the candy and Caleb can hear the crunch of the packaging. A amused laugh escaped Caleb's lips. Turning his body to face you and resting his jaw to his palm. His elbow leaning on his knees.

He stares at your side profile. Studying how your eyelashes flutter and the dimple surfacing on your round cheek. A small pout in your plump lips.

“I haven't kissed anyone, pipsqueak.”

“For real? Nah, you're kidding me.”

Caleb's smile grew wider when you whipped your head to see if he was really serious. Your face scrunched up while you eye him suspiciously.

It was the truth. He gets it. He was Mr. Popular among his peers and there's the endless stream of girls who tried to get on his good graces. However he can't bring himself to like the attention. Sure, it was good that he can count on them and he knows you're going to be cool about it but it feels wrong.

“I'm not interested, pipsqueak.” Caleb assures you. Patting your head in a affectionate manner like he always did. His palm hold your round cheek. Caressing the skin with his thumb and his aura gets serious all of a sudden. “What made you ask me that kind of question?”

“A classmate asked me if you have a girlfriend and then if you did the lovey-dovey stuff with a girl. I told her I don't know and....” Your eyes squint for a little bit. The gears in your head turning. “— that's why I asked you about it.” You explained.

Caleb pinched your cheek. If Caleb wants to be honest with you right now. He will say he wants to kiss you, first. His eyes landing on your lips. He fought the urge to run his thumb in your lips for he might regret what he's about to do next. It's to kiss you. Taste the sweetness of the candy in your lips and feel the softness of your lips that will linger for days to come.

Caleb wants you, needs you to be his firsts. It's the way it is most special cause he shared it with you and he knows you're inexperienced too and what's better to be each other's firsts, if you'll allow it.

“Pipsqueak, do you want to be kissed?” His voice suddenly serious. The streetlight casting a glow behind them and from the angle where you look at him. Caleb's expression grew darker. The knowledge that you're going to be kissed someone that is not him — brings a pain that he can never recover.

“Someday, Caleb. Someday.” You mutter and Caleb smiles, cause that someday is the day when he will finally get to kiss you. A real kiss. Not the indirect kisses from having to share cans of soda or tasting another one's food. You didn't even know that.

Caleb and you stayed for a bit. Watching as nightfall envelops the whole city. Contented at the peace and quiet with the conversation gone in your mind except for Caleb who burned the memory. He's contented for now.

He can be patient towards you and when the time comes, it's not only a kiss from you but the whole you, body and soul.

[rafesangelita]

♡ deciding to take a ride on the ‘tunnel of love’ roller coaster at the annual valentine’s day fair, rafe happens to catch you before it starts, conveniently locking himself in next to you. annoyed, you tell yourself you’ll be out and away from the man once the ride is over but (un)luckily for you, it just so happens to break down, leaving you two stuck together until it’s fixed..

warnings: one sided enemies to lovers (reader is the one who can’t stand rafe lol), forced proximity, teasing, flirty banter, slight angst (just a teeny tiny bit, it’s literally almost nonexistent), light fluff

a/n: now presenting… ‘TUNNEL OF LOVE’ 🤍 my town just so happens to be having a valentine’s day fair.. maybe (hopefully) i’ll go!

link: VALENTINE’S DAY CELEBRATION ໒꒰ྀི｡- ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

wc: 1.4k

[7:57 PM] bestie ♡: it looks like kelce is going to take me out for v-day after all!! don’t wait for me, i’ll catch up soon, promise!

you had just bought an extra large funnel cake for you and your best friend to share when you read her text, your sugary sweet smile faltering as you took a seat at a nearby bench. “more for me, i guess..” you sighed, feeling a little bit silly at the fact that you sat here by yourself when everyone who passed you by was either in a group setting or hand in hand with someone who was most likely their significant other.

you picked at the fried goodness, not really feeling as festive as you were just two minutes ago. “yo, y/n!” you recognized the voice before you even looked up, your eyes immediately rolling as none other than rafe ‘insufferable daddy’s money’ cameron made his way over to you. ‘please let this be quick..’ you whispered under your breath, not sparing the man a single glance as he plopped down ridiculously close to you.

“what do you want, rafe?” he smiled when he heard his name roll off of your tongue, his muscular arm draping across your shoulders as his mouth dropped next to your ear. “can you at least act like you could tolerate me?” you scoffed, shrugging him off. “no, i can’t,” you finally looked at him, “because even that is too difficult to do.” he swallowed thickly, feeling slightly defeated before he went for the funnel cake that sat in your lap.

“i’m really not that bad, i’ll make you realize that soon.” rafe was also too confident and cocky for your liking— more reasons you could add to your seemingly never ending list as to why you think you two would never work out.

“i highly doubt that.” rafe was licking powdered sugar off of his fingers when you met his gaze again, your eyes flickering down to his tongue. the one thing that you couldn’t put on your list was that he wasn’t hot. anyone with eyes can tell you that rafe was insanely attractive, but of course, you’d never admit that to him out loud.. or so you thought. “you’re staring.” he smiled when he saw that your eyes stayed trained on his mouth, a smug expression taking over his features.

you blinked away, deciding you had enough chit-chat for one night. “in your dreams, ‘cameron.” rafe watched you get up from your seat, gladly taking the funnel cake you basically shoved into his hands. “why, thank you.” he took another piece, popping it into his mouth. you flashed him a fake smile before adjusting the strap of your crossbody purse. “i’ll see you around!” he called out, waving obnoxiously in your direction. “no you won’t!” you whispered to yourself, deciding to explore the fair a bit more.

little did you know conversation between you and rafe was far from over.

you walked around the fair grounds for almost fifteen more minutes before you had decided you were better off at home eating some greasy takeout and having a rom-com movie marathon in nothing but your comfy pj’s.

just as you were on your way to the exit, a flashing heart with the words ‘TUNNEL OF LOVE.. find your lover inside!’ caught your attention. deciding you’d at least inquire about it, you walked up to the ride operator and asked away. “excuse me! hi, i was just wondering what does the whole ‘find your lover inside!’ thing mean?” the woman lit up as if she had been dying to answer this question.

“so basically there’s another roller coaster coming from the other side, and once you two meet inside, the ride will stop for two minutes before coming back out to the respective entrances.” she explained. “so it’s like speed dating?” you smiled, the idea enthralling you. “yeah, that’s exactly it!” she nodded. you weighed out your options and decided a little excitement wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“i’m suprised you don’t have a line, how much is it to get on?” you took your wallet out of your purse as she replied. “if you have a full-access wristband it’s free, but if not then it’ll be five dollars exactly.” you handed over the small bill, smiling to yourself as she let you through the metal gate. “it looks like two people can fit in here—” just as you stepped in, rafe came running from the opposite direction.

“stop the ride!” he shouted, his chest rising and falling as he bent over to catch his breath. you blinked. “it’s not even on, you drama queen.” taking a seat, you were about to pull the metal bar over your lap before he shouted again. “i’ll give you fifty bucks if you let me get on with her!” you crossed your arms over your chest, not expecting the ride operator to actually let him in. “seriously?!” you gasped when he walked through, flashing you a wink.

“sorry!” she pushed the guardrail over you and rafe until it locked in place before starting the ride. “this will all be over in two minutes.” you glared at him, trying to scoot as many centimeters away from him as you could. “that’s fine with me.” he shrugged. he leaned back in the cart, red and pink flashing lights illuminating the space in which you two rolled into slowly.

rafe kept his eyes on you, watching as you avoided his gaze. “why don’t you like me? serious question..” you sighed, finally giving him your full undivided attention. you opened your mouth to speak but no words came out. “what?” you acted like you didn’t hear him the first time, wracking your brain for any kind of answer. he smiled teasingly, pointing a finger at you. “i asked you why you don’t like me and you can’t even answer me!” you waved him off, facing the other way to hide the smile on your lips.

truthfully, you didn’t really know who rafe was. like just by himself as an individual. you knew that his friends were all assholes though, including the one who your best friend was willing to drop everything for. “i hate your friends,” you started, “and you are who you keep company with, sooo..” rafe cleared his throat as the roller coaster came to a stop. the inside of the ‘love tunnel’ was lit up with baby cherubs along the walls, red hearts and fairy lights adorning the interior.

“me and my friends are very different from each other.. i think you’d be surprised.” you hummed, adjusting the pendant on your necklace. “maybe..” the other roller coaster cart strolled in from the other side, the seats empty. “i guess it’s a good thing that i tagged along, since you would’ve been all by yourself if i didn’t.”

you glanced over at him, his blue eyes standing out in the pinkish lighting. “..yeah, i guess.” rafe’s head shot up as soon as the words left your mouth. “you really think so?” he scooted closer, the action making you laugh. “don’t push it.” you warned him, in which he held his hands up defensively. “okay, okay!” rafe had this smitten look on his face as if making you smile was his life’s greatest achievement.

“so you told me why you didn’t like me, which is fair, but i want a real chance at proving you wrong. can you at least give me that?” rafe hesitantly rested a hand on your knee, the hopeful look in his eyes making your heart melt into a soft puddle of mush. “hmm..” you pretended to think, the anticipation making rafe’s leg bounce. “okay. only under one condition though..” rafe nodded frantically.

“anything.”

“tell me why you like me so much when i avoid you like the plague, and never seemingly look in your direction.. like ever.” the man next to you snorted. “you want me to go down my full list? ‘cause we’ll be sitting here all night—” just then, the ride operator’s voice boomed through the intercom speakers from inside the tunnel. “hi, i’m so sorry for the inconvenience, but we’re having some technical difficulties and my electrician guy says it’ll be at least an hour or two before you could leave. i promise to issue a full refund once you two are off.”

you and rafe looked at each other half concerned and half amused. “..so, you were saying?”

[specialgradefckr]

nerd!gojo is so cute! please give him a kiss on the cheek for me.

you stare at the note you found in your locker. it's written in glittery purple ink, which only adds to the insult.

gojo, "cute"??? give him a kiss on the cheek???

like an ill omen summoned by its name, a terrible presence looms over your shoulder, "watcha got there?"

"hate mail." you say dispassionately as you quickly shove gojo away.

when you face him, you see gojo's face change - smooth features and rounded eyes hardening into anger.

"hate mail?" gojo frowns, "in your locker? who would send that?!"

"you want a list?" comes geto's snarky voice. "she's kind of a bitch."

you shoot him a glare, but gojo speaks before you can.

"don't talk about her like that."

the room feels a little bit colder. since when did gojo sound so... mean?

"i'm just saying," geto says, shrugging, "you'd know better than anyone, she's always on your ass."

"yeah, my ass," gojo turns to you, a pout on his face, "you're not bullying other people, are you? i don't have any other bullies."

only satoru gojo could get into an argument this stupid.

"no," you drone, "your drain on my time and attention is uncontested."

rather than being ashamed of this, gojo looks absolutely tickled.

even when you punch him in the shoulder, his good mood is undampened.

"nerd," you grouse, stalking off to your next class, which gojo naturally follows.

it sucked being in the same classes as him, but at least it meant you could get his help. he really is a huge nerd. all those hours you put into it, and he seems to understand everything effortlessly.

the class feels like it takes hours. you pay diligent attention, take so many notes, and somehow, gojo comes out of it completely chipper.

you're left in peace for a few blessed minutes afterwards as he bolts out of the room for some reason or another.

is he finally starting to fear you as his bully? took him long enough -

"here!" pressed into your hands, your favorite snack from the campus vending machine.

gojo smiles at you, that big, boyish smile that makes him look extra stupid. "sorry i messed up last time."

you don't know what comes over you. maybe it's pure delirium brought on by hunger. or the joy from having something nice to eat.

maybe it's a new form of torture, humiliating him by making him endure a kiss from his bully.

it's just a kiss on the cheek. it's whatever.

he stands there, still, face completely red, blue eyes wide in shock. gojo looks even dumber than usual, which shouldn't even be possible.

you fan your face for a moment as you turn to leave.

"come on, you idiot. we've got a test to study for."

gojo whistles some unbelievably stupid tune, practically skipping the whole way to the library.

"i can't believe it! she kissed me on the cheek!!! a real kiss!" "uh-huh." "don't uh-huh me, suguru, it was REAL! anyways, it all makes sense now. she was just hangry. no wonder she shoved me into a locker. it's my fault for not taking better care of her..." "would you listen to me if i reminded you that you're not dating and this is all pure delusion?" "not dating yet." "so a no, then," suguru says, rolling his eyes as he returns to his work. satoru's already finished with the homework and scrolling through his text message history with you, no doubt spamming you again with memes or pictures or just remarks. but you haven't blocked him yet, have you? suguru smiles to himself, closing his notebook, tucking away a shimmering violet pen.

[tsunaso]

Hi!!

Could I get Zenitsu from demon slayer that swears he straight start to fall for male reader? Like maybe reader is confident and flirty/make dirty jokes with him but he is so deep in denial that he’s always refusing and stuff until he realizes he’s daydreaming of reader and wanting to go along with it?

Not sure if I’m describing it well, and you’re welcome to take the concept and run with it however you like but I thought bi disaster would be funny and a cute bottom

“IN A FLASH”

pairing. “Straight”!Zenitsu Agatsuma x Top!male reader

synopsis. Zenitsu is 100% straight—or at least, that’s what he keeps telling himself. But between your constant flirting, your cocky smirks, and the unwelcome daydreams about being pinned against a wall, he’s starting to lose his mind. And maybe, just maybe… he likes it. — 1.7k

warnings. mdni, nsfw, amab reader, dirty jokes, tiniest bit of power play, first time (with a man), overstimulation, handjob, aftercare

a/n: You did a great job describing what you wanted! Thank you for sending in my first request!

Zenitsu was not in love with you.

Nope. Not a chance. Absolutely not.

It didn’t matter that you were tall, confident, and smirked like you owned the place. It didn’t matter that you rolled up your sleeves during training, your arms a little too toned, a little too veiny for him to not notice. And it especially didn’t matter that you had a habit of leaning in too close, whispering dirty jokes just low enough for only him to hear.

Because Zenitsu?

Zenitsu liked women.

He loved women. Soft hands, long hair, big br—

"Are you blushing?"

The sound of your smooth, teasing voice snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts.

Zenitsu immediately flinched, whipping around to see you grinning down at him, elbow resting on his shoulder.

His stomach flipped.

"No! I—Why would I—?! I AM NOT BLUSHING!"

In his panic, he stumbled backward—tripping over absolutely nothing—and fell flat onto his ass.

You burst out laughing, loud and shameless, crossing your arms as you watched him writhe in his own embarrassment.

"You totally were," you smirked. "What’s the matter? My rugged good looks getting to you?"

Zenitsu felt his entire soul leave his body.

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" He practically threw himself back to his feet, pointing at you in a wild panic. "I AM 100% STRAIGHT, OKAY?! I LOVE WOMEN! BIG BOOBS! SOFT HANDS! LONG HAIR!"

You just raised an eyebrow.

"...Alright, bro. You want a medal or something?"

Zenitsu twitched violently.

This was your fault.

For months, you'd been torturing him.

The casual hand on his shoulder. The way you'd sit too close, your thigh pressed against his. The way your gravelly, stupidly deep voice sounded whenever you murmured some filthy joke into his ear, leaving him to short-circuit in real-time.

He hated it.

He hated you.

He was definitely not going to start thinking about it later.

Absolutely not.

　　　　　　　　　　─────・୨ ✦ ୧・─────

It started small. Little things.

Like how your voice was kind of deep.

Not too deep—but just enough to make his stomach flip when you said his name.

Or how your hands were huge.

Not that he was paying attention to them. Not that he was imagining how they’d feel gripping his waist, holding his wrists, pinning him—

WAIT, BAD. BAD THOUGHT.

Zenitsu shook his head violently, slapping his own cheeks.

He was just tired. That was all. He needed to train more.

…But training wasn’t exactly helping.

Because lately, you were standing too damn close.

"Need help with your stance?" you murmured from behind him, your chest almost pressed to his back.

Zenitsu froze.

His entire body locked up as your hands brushed over his hips, adjusting him like it was nothing.

Like you weren’t completely ruining his life.

"I—I GOT IT!" he shrieked, flailing away from you like you were on fire. "THANKS, NO NEED TO TOUCH ME, I’M PERFECTLY FINE—!!"

You just blinked at him, amused. "Dude, chill."

Zenitsu was not chilling.

He was losing his fucking mind.

　　　　　　　　　　─────・୨ ✦ ୧・─────

It got worse.

He started having thoughts.

Thoughts like, "What if he pushed me against a wall?"

Or "What if he held me down?"

Or "What if I just… let him?"

"NOOOOOOO—!!!" Zenitsu bolted upright in bed, screaming into his pillow.

What the hell was that dream?!

WHY WAS IT KINDA GOOD?!!

He buried his face in his hands, rocking back and forth in despair.

"This isn’t happening," he whispered. "I love women. BIG BOOBS. SOFT HANDS. LONG HAIR."

…Your hair didn’t look like a womans, but it always looked kinda nice.

WAIT, NO, STOP—!!!

Zenitsu launched himself out of bed. He needed a distraction. Immediately.

　　　　　　　　　　─────・୨ ✦ ୧・─────

Zenitsu was determined to prove his 100% absolute heterosexuality.

Which is why, the next morning, he could be found on his knees in front of a random woman, gripping her hands, screaming into the sky.

"HELLO, BEAUTIFUL LADY! HAVE I MENTIONED I LOVE WOMEN?!"

The woman blinked. "…Are you okay?"

"I’M SO OKAY!" Zenitsu laughed, manic and desperate. "SO, SO, SO OKAY! WOMEN ARE BEAUTIFUL! GORGEOUS! PLEASE MARRY ME!"

You watched from a distance, arms crossed, fighting back a smirk.

"He’s been acting weird lately," Tanjiro mumbled beside you.

You chuckled. "Yeah. I noticed."

Zenitsu’s entire body stiffened.

Because your voice—your deep, amused, cocky voice—was right behind him.

He turned slowly, staring up at you with wide, panicked eyes.

"Yo," you grinned.

Zenitsu squeaked.

Just straight-up made a noise like a fucking chew toy and bolted in the opposite direction.

You laughed.

Because oh yeah.

You definitely knew what this was.

　　　　　　　　　　─────・୨ ✦ ୧・─────

Zenitsu’s back hit the wall, his breath coming in ragged, uneven pants.

His whole body was shaking, his hands gripping at nothing, his legs weak beneath him.

This was your fault.

You were too close.

You had him trapped, one hand flat against the wall beside his head, your strong, calloused fingers gripping his chin, forcing him to look up at you.

He tried to glare.

Tried to resist.

But his face was burning, his eyes were wide and panicked, his chest rising and falling way too fast.

This was wrong.

This was not supposed to happen.

"I—I don’t—” Zenitsu stammered, but his hips twitched forward, betraying him instantly.

You smirked. "Not like what?"

Your voice was too deep, too smooth, too much.

Zenitsu let out a sharp, shaky breath, his fingertips digging into the wall behind him.

"I—I'm not—"

He cut himself off, biting his lip hard, his eyes squeezing shut.

Because if he looked at you any longer, he was going to break.

And then—

You grabbed his chin, tilted his face up, and kissed him.

Zenitsu shattered.

A sharp, wrecked little noise escaped him, somewhere between a whimper and a gasp, his body going stiff—then melting completely.

His hands shot up to grip your shirt, his fingers fisting the fabric so tightly his knuckles turned white.

He didn’t pull away.

He couldn’t.

His whole body was burning, his mind spinning, his lips parting helplessly as you deepened the kiss, teasing, taking your time breaking him apart.

Zenitsu’s legs gave out.

You caught him instantly, one strong arm wrapping around his waist, keeping him pinned against you.

He hated how good it felt.

He hated how easily you overpowered him.

He hated that his dick was aching, twitching, throbbing, already soaked with precum—

But most of all?

He hated how much he loved it.

　　　　　　　　　　─────・୨ ✦ ୧・─────

Zenitsu didn’t remember how you got him to bed.

All he knew was that he was on his back, his clothes half-off, his skin burning, and your hands were on him.

Too much.

Too good.

Too overwhelming.

His breath was shaky, his legs spread open beneath you, his whole body trembling like a leaf. He should’ve been embarrassed—should’ve pushed you away, should’ve pretended he didn’t want this.

But when you dragged your palm up his inner thigh, tracing over sensitive, untouched skin, his whole body jerked violently, a shocked little whimper spilling from his lips.

His hands shot up to cover his mouth, his fingers pressing against his own lips as if that could stop the noises from escaping.

You smirked.

“Oh? You like that?”

Zenitsu furiously shook his head, eyes blown wide, face burning.

"NO—"

You hummed, dragging your fingers up his trembling stomach, stopping just at the waistband of his underwear.

"You sure?"

Zenitsu bit his lip hard, his whole body twitching in anticipation.

He could feel himself leaking, soaking the fabric, his thighs clenched but trembling, struggling to stay still.

He was too sensitive.

Too needy.

And when you finally hooked your fingers into his waistband and tugged his underwear down—

Zenitsu gasped, his breath catching, his dick twitching against his stomach.

Fuck.

He looked away immediately, his chest rising and falling way too fast.

He couldn’t do this.

He wasn’t supposed to like this.

Then your fingers wrapped around him, slow, teasing, barely applying any pressure.

And Zenitsu cried out.

A sharp, wrecked moan slipped past his lips, his hips jerking forward before he could stop himself.

"S-Shit—"

You chuckled. "You're shaking."

"Sh-Shut up," he whined, his voice cracking, his fingers digging into the sheets.

He was burning up.

He felt too hot, too exposed, too weak.

But it felt good.

Way too fucking good.

Your grip tightened just slightly, your thumb swiping over his leaking tip, and Zenitsu’s whole body twitched.

His breath hitched, a choked moan spilling out.

"I-I—oh fuck—"

You smirked. "Already close?"

"NO—" Zenitsu’s voice cracked, his cheeks burning.

He was not going to cum just from this.

He was not going to embarrass himself like that.

He was not going to—

You leaned down, dragged your tongue over his tip, and Zenitsu screamed.

His fingers fisted the sheets, his whole body seizing up, his dick twitching violently.

And then—

He broke.

"OH—OH FUCK—"

His back arched sharply, his hips bucking up, his breath stuttering, and then he let out a wrecked little sob, cumming way too fast, way too hard.

His chest heaved, his legs shaking, his body completely wrecked beneath you.

You pulled back slightly, grinning down at him.

"That fast?" your voice was low, amused, teasing. "Thought you had more stamina, Thunder Boy."

Zenitsu whined into his hands, his whole body trembling, his mind completely blank.

He should’ve been mortified.

But then—

Your hand wrapped around him again.

And Zenitsu twitched violently.

"H-Hah—w-wait, I just—"

Your grip tightened slightly, stroking him slow, teasing, letting him feel the overstimulation creep in.

Zenitsu gasped, his hips jerking forward weakly, his thighs trembling.

"You're still hard," you murmured, voice silky smooth. "Guess that wasn't enough for you, huh?"

Zenitsu let out a broken little noise, his nails digging into your arms.

He couldn’t handle this.

He was too sensitive.

Too fucking weak.

"B-Be gentle," he whispered, his voice tiny.

You smirked, kissing his heated skin.

"No."

Then you kept going.

And Zenitsu?

Zenitsu didn’t stand a chance.

　　　　　　　　　　─────・୨ ✦ ୧・─────

Zenitsu refused to let go of you.

His arms were wrapped around your waist, his face buried in your chest, his breath still shaky.

You smirked, running your fingers through his messy hair.

"You okay?"

Zenitsu huffed weakly, his fingers tightening their grip on you.

"I still like girls," he mumbled into your skin. "I just… really like you too."

You chuckled. "Oh yeah?"

Zenitsu whined. "Don’t make me say it again—!"

You grinned. "So you liked it?"

Zenitsu froze.

Then, with a mortified little whimper, he hid his face in your chest.

"D-Don’t say it out loud, idiot!"

You laughed, holding him tighter.

[pixiepipedreams]

♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — intrusive thoughts, tied up in knots, by the concept of us // in-ho x reader x gi-hun

♡  ⁄  pairing: in-ho x reader x gi-hun ♡  ⁄  warnings & tags: fem!reader, canon-typical violence & death, obsessive behavior, lying/manipulation, age gap (reader is 20-22, in-ho & gi-hun are late 40s, early 50s) ♡  ⁄ wordcount: 6.9k ♡  ⁄ summary: the second vote holds no promises for a brighter future, and both in-ho and gi-hun find themselves contemplating the ever intriguing player 132. THIS IS PART THREE OF A SERIES! (➊) (➋)

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵ ﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

In-ho had dedicated his youth to policing the criminals of Seoul, and he has seen the balance of human nature. He had been devoted to fighting the good fight, keeping the criminal population in line, dealing with drunks and abusers and the worst of the worst. He’d never done anything unjust, never used unnecessary force, but still, he’d been tossed to the curb in his hour of need, falsely accused of accepting bribes. Like clay, the cruel hands of the universe shaped him into what he needed to become to survive. The games had been both a blessing and a curse, a way to fight back, to save his wife and unborn child.

None of it had mattered. Every sacrifice was just another digit pressed into his moldable form, so slow and sure that he hadn’t even noticed the difference until he’d received the invitation from Il-nam to front the games. It had felt like a reclamation, a saving grace, a way to hide from the misery of his life as a widower, from the disgust he felt with an uncaring world. When choosing between the lesser of two evils, he chose the more black and white option - give one or two pieces of gum on the bottom of the country’s shoe a chance to unstick themselves and reform, while the rest get tossed and burned like the trash that they are. Like everyone is.

That’s what you should have been.

Another piece of gum, debris, a bag of trash rotting on the side of the road. Another inconsequential player, another layer of scum on this waste of a planet. But at every turn, you surprised him. The optimism in your view of life, the intelligence in your eyes, the strength that you carried even in fear. You pointed out flaws in Gi-hun’s arguments, you challenged In-ho just by existing. He should hate it. He should want to corrupt you, bring you down to his depths of apathy and revulsion with the world.

In a way, he does.

Player 132. (Y/N). You were an unexpected factor in his mission, made all the worse by the fact that you bear the same number he did in 2015. Every flicker of feeling that you cause in him is only accentuated by the closeness the games force the players into, the camaraderie between those meant to be competitors. Despite himself, he feels that same union with his team, as well, celebrating the victories of every passing team in the Pentathlon.

Weakness. Human connection. One that he can work in his favor, a flaw to exploit.

That’s what he pretends the victorious feeling in his chest means while they return to the dorms, but even he can’t deny the high of winning as a team. His sabotage had only made it more delicious that they all made it out alive, and the adrenaline still buzzes in his veins, better than any glass of whiskey.

Your hands fidget nervously as you stare at the player count, wondering how much longer it could be before you find out if Young-il, Gi-hun, and player 222 made it out alive. The bed you sit on is closest to the open concrete floor, and you feel on edge, ready to jump and run at a moment’s notice. The rest of your team is more tucked into the tighter enclosure the bunkbeds make, conversing about the games. Where are they?

“Hey,” player 120 says, her voice soft and assuring, calling for your attention. “132. You surprised me out there. It was really… impressive, honestly. You sure you’ve never played Spinning Top before?”

You look over, smiling faintly, your leg jittering as it bounces in place. “I’ve never played it. Well - in America, we have tops, but you just spin it from the axle. No twine. I guess I just… had a good teacher.”

007 laughs, but covers it quickly with a cough. His mother whacks him on the chest, then turns to you with kind eyes. “Are you and player 001 close? He doesn’t seem like the… helping sort.”

You tilt your head, surprised by the observation. But you can understand it - when Young-il isn’t engaged in conversation, he shows little to no emotion, carries a coldness that seems impenetrable. “We’ve talked,” you say vaguely. “He promised to help me with any games that I don’t quite understand. Since I wasn’t raised here.” You clear your throat, feeling oddly embarrassed, like you’re admitting to some deep secret crush, even though you’ve done nothing of the sort. “What are your guys’ names? So I have something to call you besides a detached number.”

The group goes around sharing names, and you commit them to memory. Whatever the outcome of these games, you refuse to forget any of them. Perhaps it would be too big of a burden to remember everyone’s name who’s already died, would haunt you until your own end, but it feels like a bigger sin to not know at all.

Light discussion starts, easy joking, but you can’t focus, your eyes flicking from the group to the door as you wait endlessly. Where are they?

When his team returns to the dorms, In-ho’s eyes instantly find you, a locked missile on target. You’re sitting near your team, but still separate, disengaged. Another curiosity - despite your disposition, and your apparent friendly nature, you keep yourself apart. Perhaps you recognize the truth he’s accepted long ago - despite any kinship one might feel with a person, or a group, everyone is on their own at the end of the day. Family, friends, coworkers, passing acquaintances, they all fall away to serve their own needs. It takes you less than a second to meet his eyes, and his stomach clenches at the way you instantly relax, sheer relief etched into the line of your posture. He’s not foolish enough to assign his own reaction to unease.

He gives you the tentative smile that Young-il would give, but his eyes are dark. Whatever cocktail you stir inside him, he knows that your own reaction to him is much simpler. Attraction, maybe. Comfort, certainly. Why him, of all people, instead of Gi-hun, or that player, 120, that you’d spoken to before, he can’t begin to comprehend. Is his mask that good, his performance so inviting? No, it’s not quite that. He needs to dig into your mind, unravel the knots into understanding. Perhaps the knots are his own.

He follows his team with a sense of purpose, duty, forcing himself to look away and your warm, relieved smile, that churning in his mind feeling so out of place in the typically still waters of his mind. As they sit, he shakes his head, focusing on the group, his team.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I don’t know what happened,” he says, infusing a sheepish embarrassment into his words, his hands clenching the metal of the bench as his shoulders tuck forward.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Dae-ho says quickly, his voice overlapping with Gi-hun’s own assurance.

“What happened earlier?”

In-ho’s spine straightens on instinct at the sound of your voice, and he forces himself to relax, looking up, oddly surprised to see you step up to their group. He shouldn’t be. His eyes trace over you, as if checking for wounds, even though he saw you escape earlier entirely unscathed. Your hair is a bit messy, the grease of not showering settling in, and your hands are shoved into your pockets, an infused nonchalance to the posture. You make a concerted effort to look at everyone in the group before your eyes land on In-ho.

His mouth goes dry.

“Ah, it’s nothing,” Jung-bae says with a small grin, always playful and easing the tension. “Big bad number one over here just struggled on his game. We made it out, though! So nothing to worry about.”

“If he hadn’t helped me in Jegi with the final kick, we never would’ve made it,” Gi-hun adds, a trace of his old smile on his lips, trying to comfort whatever tension in him that he’s sensing.

Your eyes narrow, searching In-ho, in a different manner than he just analyzed you. Like you know something. That intelligence you hide behind easy smiles flashes in full force, but then it’s gone, any concerns or comments you had not even reaching your throat. “I’m glad you all made it,” you say finally, smiling, and your eyes flick to player 222. “Especially you.”

She meets your gaze, a quiet appreciation in her expression. She nods her head slightly, unable to express her true gratitude, and that’s another thing that In-ho doesn’t wish to think about. The pregnant player. Another barnacle on the world’s ship, but perhaps the way he closed off his feelings after the passing of his wife had left some backdoors open for unwanted sympathy. He refuses to wonder about what the outcome would be if his wife had entered the games instead of him, refuses to imagine her in this place, founded on cruelty and equality.

She would have died either way. There’s no reason to wonder, to feel the sick twist in his gut.

In-ho rocks in place, unable to tell if it’s the surge of his own undesired emotions or the act of Young-il that causes it. “222, are you doing alright?” he asks, but doesn’t care. He doesn’t.

“Yeah. Thank you all for including me on your team,” she replies with a slight bow of her head, and In-ho catches a soft smile on your lips, likely comforted by the fact that you genuinely helped her.

“She smashed that ddakji and flipped it on her first try!” Jung-bae adds, grinning. 222 ducks her head, hiding a proud smile. “And for a pregnant lady, you were fast, too. We were lucky she joined our team.” His eyes flick to you, and In-ho clenches his jaw briefly. There’s too much ease in Jung-bae’s words, in every conversation, and he finds it grating - both with Gi-hun and you. In-ho’s eyes flick to Gi-hun, his own expression dry of any emotion or reaction.

Gi-hun is already looking at you.

He hadn’t heard the conversation the two of you had last night, too far away at the time, but he had watched. Observed. Even not knowing what passed between the pair, he knew that some sort of understanding had been reached, that you hadn’t taken your eyes off him for a moment.

That earlier, when you brought the pregnant woman to his team, you’d looked at Gi-hun first.

The conversation continues, and In-ho laughs in all the right moments, in the bond over the victory, but he keeps you in his line of vision. When Dae-ho stands next to you, his eyes land on the distance between you both, a sour feeling in his gut, like bile.

“Perhaps we should learn each other’s names. I still don’t know any of your names. I’ll start.” He gives his name, and its meaning. Huge tiger. In-ho suppresses a laugh - which is an odd feeling. Laughter doesn’t come easily to him anymore, and fighting to keep it down is unfamiliar. Jung-bae gives his next, because of course he does.

When player 222 offers hers - Kim Jun-hee, a name that instantly gets engraved in his mind - he can’t seem to help the words bubbling from his lips. “Jun-hee, when we get out of here, you should head straight to a hospital. You’ve been under a lot of stress. You need to get yourself checked out.”

“Okay,” she replies softly.

“I’m Oh Young-il,” In-ho adds, tossing his false name into the ring. Amusement rises in his chest - it’s likely that no one will look too closely at his name, or assume he’s lying, but he’d been rather proud of the joke of it all. Right down to the last detail, of taking Il-nam’s family name. Flying right under Gi-hun’s nose.

“Young-il?” Jung-bae repeats, arching a brow.

“Yes. ‘Young-il’ sounds like ‘zero one,’ and that’s my number,” he explains with a playful smile, his finger pointing to the patch on his chest. His eyes meet yours, catching the way they narrow. It would make sense that you hadn’t put the pun together yourself, and he gets the cold feeling that you’re suspicious of him. You, of all people. It isn’t that you come off as naive, but you had trusted him so easily last night, allowing him to sit with his hand in your hair as you fell asleep. He had assumed you didn’t see through his manipulations, the strings he pulled in the world of these games.

The group shares a laugh over his name, but not you. You arch a brow, smiling, but with that sharp look in your eyes. “The gamemakers must have a sense of humor,” you murmur wryly, but that coldness spreads in his body. Everyone else chuckles, but In-ho knows there’s more to your statement.

And he realizes there might be even more to you than he thought.

“And you?” he asks quickly, looking to Gi-hun. “Your full name, I mean. I only know you as Gi-hun.” Another lie, so little in comparison to the rest.

“Oh, right, um… Seong Gi-hun is my full name,” he replies quietly, eyes flicking between In-ho and you. Curious.

“Seong - that literally means last name, doesn’t it?” he asks, feeling almost nervous. It’s not the right word, but the strange tightness in his chest can’t seem to be described any other way. He laughs, his chuckles rolling off him through the anxious energy, at his own bad joke.

Nobody else laughs, but there’s a flicker of amusement in your expression. “Like our ‘un-Seong hero’?” you add, voice laced with humor as you speak in English for the first time in his presence. He laughs harder, not expecting the cheesy joke from your lips, and you laugh too.

Such a delightful sound. Something bright and sweet, like the sky on a cloudless day in a past that’s long gone. There’s a couple chuckles in the group, but nobody laughs as much as the two of you do. Somehow, you make him feel like Young-il, the man he used to be, and In-ho, the man he’s become, the man he’s always been underneath it all.

The doors open, guards filing in, and the joviality of the room quiets, stills. Any small relief that the groups have managed to find after escaping the last game with their lives dissipates. You tear your eyes away from Young-il, your mind churning, twisting over the information, but it’s hard to stay focused on his potential deceptions with the gut-dropping recognition of the button being wheeled in.

“Congratulations to all of you for making it through the second game.” The head guard stands in the center of the group of pink-clad soldiers, the rigid square on his face an indicator of his rank. The lights turn off, the now-familiar glow of golden light shining down on them as the pig takes the spotlight above their heads. “Here are the results of the second game. In the second game, 110 players were eliminated.” The familiar chiptune plays as the bank above everyone's head fills with bundles of won, counting the bodies that had been bloodily removed from the schoolyard scene of the last game. “The prize money accumulated up to this point is 20.1 billion won. Since there are 255 players remaining, each person’s share is 78,823,530 won.”

Uproar. People start shouting out complaints, the ‘O's growing restless at the realization that even with so many dead, the split of the prize pool isn't enough. Even for you, that amount isn’t enough to settle your father’s debts and pay his medical bills.

In-ho has to hide a smirk, even as something inside him clenches. Just as expected, desperate greed wins over the lives of the people whose blood invisibly stains the prize pool. He eyes Gi-hun, who stares around the room, cataloguing the people complaining with barely disguised loathing. Gi-hun, who has never been able to look past the cost of all that money to see the freedom it grants. In-ho can hardly judge. He’s barely touched his own money, after all.

“I completely understand your disappointment. However, we always keep the door open for you to pursue new opportunities. You will now take a vote to decide whether to continue the games or not. Whether to continue the games for a bigger prize or to stop here is entirely your choice. Please feel free to exercise your right to choose in a democratic manner.” The guard’s voice is clinical, rehearsed, and a sick feeling twists at your gut. Just how many games have there been? How many times has he said these exact words?

And the implication slams into you, the easy manipulation of the words. The vote hasn’t even happened yet, and you already know the outcome. Desperation, self-preservation. Nobody is leaving the games today.

“I should go,” you say softly, as the crowd accumulates at the edge of the glowing ‘X’ and ‘O’ separation on the ground. You give a slight bow of your head, turning to leave, feeling displaced, uneasy.

“Wait, (Y/N),” Gi-hun says, halting you in your tracks. Your eyes flick to him, widening. “Stick with our team. You said you, uh, you wanted to fight by… by our side, last night, didn’t you?”

Lips parting, you can’t seem to take your eyes off his face. That wasn’t quite what you said, but based on his shifty expression, he knows that. You said you wanted to fight by his side. The invitation still surprises you, but underneath that surprise is a warmth at being included, at him asking you to stay. You nod, smiling a little. “I would appreciate that, thank you. And, if it’s at all possible, if… if we end up staying for another game, I’d like for us to try and keep an eye out for the team that kept me alive today.” If. You don’t want to crush their spirits with the foresight you currently hold.

Gi-hun’s eyes soften, smiling just a little, but it feels like a victory. You find yourself craving more of that smile, to see the full force that used to come easily to him, if the lines of his face are anything to go by. “We’ll do our best,” he replies, his voice just as soft as those eyes. He must be a very kind man. You get a little lost, looking at him, at the lingering cloak of who he once was. "We have to end the games here,” he adds, turning to the group. “I will help you all with my winnings from the first game when we get out. Please trust me, and vote to leave.”

“Don’t worry,” Young-il adds, eyes locked on Gi-hun. “I want to stop here too. I should go.”

“Yeah,” Gi-hun says, his eyes softening as he looks back at Young-il. “You should be with your wife at the hospital.”

And then you freeze. Wife. Your lips stay closed, but your eyes widen a fraction, feeling a horrible sense of disappointment that takes you by surprise. It shouldn’t be shocking, you should have suspected it, seen the train coming at you full force. He’s twice your age, it makes sense for him to be married - hell, Gi-hun probably has a wife too.

Young-il’s frozen too, and his eyes slowly slide to meet yours from the side. His expression is unreadable, and he doesn’t respond for a moment, his lips parting. Then he looks back at Gi-hun, giving a smile that seems a little tight around the edges. “I’ve been away too long,” he responds quietly, agreeing.

The group chatters, quickly agreeing to all vote to leave. Deep in your gut, you know it’s not enough. But you’re not thinking about that, not in this moment. You’re thinking about Young-il’s hands on yours, guiding you through the motions of spinning an invisible top. You’re thinking about him cradling you to his chest, of the details of his face that you don’t dare to look at now. And you come to the realization that you’re well and truly fucked.

“Guys, all huddle up again,” Dae-ho calls, drawing your attention to him. He’s much easier to focus on than Young-il or Gi-hun. He juts his hand out, arm rigid and straight, into the center of the group. Everyone lays their hands on Dae-ho’s, and you hesitate, before setting yours down last. It’s strange, being a part of a group. “In one, two, three. Victory at all costs!”

“Victoryat all costs!” You all call back.

The voting is in reverse order, this time. Young-il doesn’t hesitate before pressing the ‘X’, but there are a few surprises - namely, two of your old teammates pressing ‘O’. But you can’t blame them. Even with Gi-hun’s offer to pay off your group’s debts, you don’t know what to pick. Hyun-ju hasn’t received that same offer, nor has Young-sik.

Player after player gets called up, but it’s obvious early on that your vote alone won’t matter. Even if every ‘O’ on your team switches, even if Young-sik and Hyun-ju had voted differently, it wouldn’t be enough.

“Player 132.”

Your body trembles, but your feet move automatically, not sparing a glance for Gi-hun or Young-il. When you reach the buttons, you stare down at the glowing red and blue domes, unblinking. It doesn’t matter, does it? What button you press? You already know the outcome. You feel a horrible guilt at the idea of taking Gi-hun’s money, just another stack soaked in blood. The money floating above you may be no different, but at least it’s from your competition - the cost of your own survival, not his.

You press ‘X’. It won’t be a close vote, not by a longshot, so your ‘X’ serves no purpose other than to prove to Gi-hun that you stand with him. Your mind is still detached as you step to the red side, standing next to Young-il but refusing to look at him.

He leans closer to you, heat prickling at your skin from his proximity. “(Y/N),” he murmurs. You bite the inside of your cheek, not reacting. You feel ridiculous, like the little kid you haven’t been in so many years right now, crushing on a married guy. It isn’t his fault. Maybe he felt protective of you, just because you’re only in your 20s. He never actually did anything untoward.

His hand in your hair, stroking it until you fell asleep. Comforting, safe, but not wrong.

The blue crowd cheers on their side - another recruit to continue the games. He sighs softly, settling a hand on your arm. Your body jolts, despite yourself, a zing running through you, your eyes flicking up to meet his despite yourself. “I–”

“Excuse me, everyone!” Gi-hun’s voice rings out across the room, taking command of it. Your breath catches, head turning to stare at him as he walks toward the center. Ever since the first game, he’s been magnetic, unignorable. Young-il’s hand tightens on your arm, then drops, and he suddenly steps forward before Gi-hun can make it to the open space.

“Are you all out of your minds?” Young-il shouts, sending a shiver through you. Your eyes flick to him, stunned. “You still want to keep going after watching all those people die? Who’s to say you won’t die in the next game? We have to stop. We’ll all die if we keep going! Come to your senses, and leave with that money.”

You feel like you’re waiting for something - maybe the guards to step in, to shout that interruptions to the voting process aren’t allowed, for one of them to press a gun to Young-il’s head. But it doesn’t come.

Players from the ‘O’ side step up to argue, including the detestable player 100. But your eyes drift back to Gi-hun, watching him watch Young-il. Touched isn’t the right word, but Young-il joining him in protesting the continuation of these sadistic games definitely affects him. Gi-hun’s eyes are huge, relieved, to not be fighting for this alone. Awe doesn’t fit any better, but it’s the only thing your mind comes up with.

“If we play one more game, the prize will be at least 240 million!”

For some reason you cannot decipher, it’s Gi-hun’s expression that pushes you to step forward, into the aisle. “And if you die?” you say, your words sharp, eyes flicking to player 043, who had just spoken. “Almost a third of the players died in this last game. What makes you think you’re special enough to make it out? You’re all cowards, just hoping as many people as possible die. You’re not fucking invincible - everyone here has the same odds of getting out. Do you feel so lucky? There’s 255 of us left - if another 110 die, that’s almost half of us. 50/50 odds - a coin flip. Heads, you win - tails, you’re gone forever, and you’ll be the one who dug that grave.”

Silence, for just a moment. Then, player 095 - Young-mi, you remind yourself, Young-mi - sobs, tears streaming down her face, pleading with the other players to not continue these games. Pity wrenches through your gut, and again, you wonder what someone so fragile could have done to end up here. How she ever called the number on that business card after being slapped by the recruiter. You find yourself unable to look at her, your eyes finding Gi-hun’s once more. Something akin to dread builds in his expression, but there’s a quiet gratitude laying under the surface.

Young-il steps between you two, eyes locking on yours for just a moment before scanning the crowded ‘O’ side.

“If you die here, your family won’t even get your body. Then it’d be the end for you and your family! Don’t you see?” Young-il shouts, but the ‘O’s are beyond hearing. Their arguments are solid enough, but they refuse to acknowledge on thing - that every single one of them is praying that as many people as possible will die, besides themselves. It doesn’t take long for them to start up a chant, mob mentality kicking in, spreading like an airborne virus.

“One more game! One more game!”

A chill runs through you. Those words were exactly what you had thought during the first vote. One more. Just one more.

The vote continues, digital numbers climbing higher and higher, and you can’t bear to watch. Knowing the way something ends is much different from watching it all happen. Will you survive one more? And what about the one after that? There’s little chance that the vote will turn back to your team’s favor - at least, not while player 100 is alive. 10 billion won owed… that man won’t rest until there’s at least only four players left, splitting the prize into 11.4 billion per person.

Gi-hun’s posture is slumped in the glow of his red vote, and your heart aches for him. He’s a good man, you know it deep in your soul. How a man like that could possibly win such cruel games is beyond you. And to be the only one to make it out alive…

Your feet take you to his side before your mind catches up. “Gi-hun,” you murmur, your hand grabbing his wrist. He goes still, statuesque, but you persist. “Please, can we… can we talk?”

A few breaths pass, but he nods, turning to you, his wrist slipping from your hand. He looks down at his arm, then his eyes meet yours. He feels… strange. It’s the same tightness in his chest as he felt earlier, when you approached his team with Jun-hee in tow. There was no guarantee that his team would do better than any other, especially since he hadn’t known the game going in. But the look in your eyes as they met his, a desperate edge to them, but not desperate on your own behalf… it had stunned him into silence. He wasn’t able to speak. It wasn’t the desperation, but the sheer trust that affected him so. You had trusted him with two lives, neither one of them your own. He’s not worthy of that trust. Every life that has been entrusted to his care, with the exception of two, has met a violent end. Both you and Young-il, so firm in your belief of him. He wants to apologize now, for not speaking up when you asked for his help. But what could he say? He can’t explain his reaction, the stunned twist of his chest the way he’d been trapped in your gaze. The way his mind had fit the puzzle pieces into place to paint a clear picture of his understanding of your character.

Your eyes are wide, intense as they meet his. “What is it?” he asks quietly, his brows furrowing, his lips set in the frown he’s worn for years now. “Are you alright?”

You huff out a breath, nodding, the intensity never leaving your expression. “Yes, but… Well. I had a few questions,” you say slowly, your expression pinching, as though you’re holding something back.

“A few questions,” he repeats dumbly, rubbing at his wrist, still feeling the warmth of your hand. He hasn’t been touched, not gently, in years now. “About?”

You swallow, and his eyes follow the bob of your throat, chest seizing with that strange tightness. “About… about your games. If you don’t mind. I know it’s a hard subject, but… We need to plan ahead, to think more about how this will all play out.” He just gives you a blank stare. Faintly, he feels himself nod for you to continue. “At this point in the games, how… how many people were left, in yours?”

Gi-hun’s brows furrow, and he tries to think, beyond the blood splatters on the playground scene, beyond the sounds of gunshots, beyond his tongue desperately working to melt the sugar honeycomb candy. “About 100,” he says finally, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

“Oh, wow,” you mutter, eyes flicking up to the board. “So… 155 less than we have now. You really must have saved a lot of people this time around, interfering in that first game.”

His eyes squeeze shut for just a moment, remembering the weight of a body pinning him to the ground, after the first death caused a stampede of people attempting to escape. But… but you’re right. So many more people died in his first Red Light, Green Light game. “And?” he asks tiredly, rubbing his forehead, trying to focus on this room, not that giant field filled with blood. To not remember revisiting it later, when it was empty, with only one opponent. Sang-woo. He flinches, tries to cover it with a cough, but when his eyes meet yours, he can tell he wasn’t fooling you.

“Sorry, it’s just… Well, it’s impressive. You’ve given more people a chance, here.” You cross your arms, shoulders hunching up, but your eyes don’t leave his. “They said it was new, allowing the players to vote after every round. You didn’t have that choice?”

“No… well. If the players called a vote, and the majority decided to leave, then the money would be split among the deceased players’ families. None of the surviving players would get anything. My…” His jaw clenches on reflex, and he shakes his head. “One player called for a vote, after the first game.”

“And everyone chose to stay?” you ask, brow furrowing.

“No… no, actually. We all left. But they gave us the option to return. Most of us did,” he explains quietly, eyes flicking around the room, finding it hard to look at you as he answers the stream of questions, the tightness in his chest only growing.

You pause, taking that in, your breaths even beside him, almost meditative. He peers at you out of the corner of the eye, taking in the contemplative twist of your lips. “Why would they change the rule?” The question stuns him, and he doesn’t have an answer. If anything, it might be because of him. To prove a point. But that feels too self-important to say, to admit that the Front Man may be choosing to play a separate game with him at the cost of hundreds of lives. But you don’t wait for an answer, sucking in a quiet breath. “How many people made it to the final game?”

His eyes flutter shut. “Two. Is that all of your questions?” he asks, voice a bit too sharp, now. Raw emotions threaten to crash over the dam he’d built in his mind. Memories, he can handle. But they don’t exactly have therapy for the kind of trauma he went through, and every emotion goes unsorted.

Silence. Gi-hun opens his eyes, squinting at you, feeling oddly guilty. It’s not your fault, not really. But this isn’t a subject he’s spoken openly about, ever, and he feels like a stripped wire. “Yes, sir,” you mutter, arms tightening across your chest. “I’m just trying to figure out the best way to convince these people to leave. One of them needs 10 billion - that means he won’t rest until there’s only 4 players left. If not less. I’m sure the gamemakers will want to cut the number of players by more than half in the next game, to try and make the final games closer.”

His eyes slowly open more as you speak, surprised by the observations. They’d tickled at the back of his head, but he’d been operating on blind determination this entire time. Analysis has never been his strong suit, though admittedly he’s gotten better at it in the years since his own game. You remind him of…

He bites the inside of his cheek, almost hard enough to draw blood. “Yeah,” he agrees, his voice quieting to something softer. “You don’t need to call me sir,” and those words are just blurted out, spilling like a bowl of ramen after too much soju. It’s the last thing that he should have focused on, but it feels wrong, to have you call him something so impersonal. “I’m sorry for being short with you, it’s just that… I don’t speak about that time.” He reaches out, but aborts the motion halfway through, his hand hanging in the air. What the hell is wrong with him? “You say that you think they’ll try to cut the players by more than half?”

You nod, your eyes softening as you look up at him. “We need to keep our team together next round. To keep as many of us alive as we can, but also… because we’re the only votes that can be guaranteed to be ‘X’ next time.”

Resourceful and compassionate. Something inside him aches as he nods, feeling struck dumb. “You said you were a student, didn’t you?” he asks, eyes roaming over your features as you blink back at him.

“Uh… yeah, actually. I spend most of my time studying, to be entirely honest,” you admit, eyeing him curiously. “Why?”

The corners of his lips twist up, a gesture that feels unfamiliar in his life after becoming a billionaire. “Nothing. I can tell, though. I appreciate having your brain to work on this with me.” He pauses, tilting his head. “Is that why you’re here? Student loans?”

You stiffen, eyes widening a fraction, biting your lip. But you nod. “That, and to help my father,” you say vaguely. You have every right to play your cards close to your chest, but he wants them laid out bare, for him to study, learn, understand. The urge terrifies him.

He swallows past the lump in his throat, nodding. Your father. “You shouldn’t be the one bearing your father’s problems,” he mutters. A brief alternate future flashes through his eyes, one where Ga-yeong, as an adult, has to pay his gambling debts, one where he never entered the games. Guilt stabs through him. “What is it? Gambling?”

What he doesn’t expect is the way your expression darkens, your mouth twisting into a frown that doesn’t fit your face. “Housing debts. He hasn’t had a job in a while, and he was never good at holding one down to begin with. Maybe gambling - I haven’t asked.” Your face is pinched, your lips a distractingly cute shape, even in your upset. He feels a bit dizzy, actually, but he shakes it off, feeling an instant aversion for your father. Perhaps it’s because he reminds Gi-hun of who he used to be, who he still could’ve become. “He’s in the hospital,” you add in a hushed tone, but don’t elaborate. He doesn’t want to push you, but he feels a shocking wave of anger. You shouldn’t be here - although he believes that about every person in this room, that nobody deserves to end up in these games, it’s fiercer, more violent when it’s you. Sure, you likely have your own debts as a student, but your father’s incapability shouldn’t be the reason your life is on the line.

“So that’s why you voted to stay after the first game?” he asks, his voice insistent, intense. Angry.

Maybe you think he’s angry at you, because your eyes narrow. “Yes. But I voted ‘X’ this time, didn’t I? Why, is that a problem?”

“He shouldn’t be your responsibility. He should be taking care of you.”

“He’s my father,” you snap back, defensive. “He’s the only person I have in this country, the only parent I have left. I’m not–” You cut yourself off, eyes oddly shiny, and it takes him a moment to realize that you’re tearing up. His mouth opens, then clamps shut, his expression clearing itself of the white-hot anger he’d felt. His hand reaches out, taking your upper arm in his grasp. Right. Your father is in the hospital, and here he is, practically yelling at you for giving a damn, just because it made him uncomfortable to be speaking to someone on the other side of the situation he had been in years ago.

His own mother’s death sits in his chest, unresolved, clumsily compartmentalized along with every other horrible thing he’s had to deal with. The guilt of eternally letting her down, until the very end. Of not even being by her side in her last moments. Of Ga-yeong, thousands of miles away, and the way these games got in the way of everything and everyone he cared about.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, his eyes wide, flicking between your own.

Gi-hun hadn’t said anything that you hadn’t already crossed your mind. Your own guilt feels like lead in the pit of your stomach, Gi-hun’s words mirroring your worst thoughts. His apology stings, a slap to the face. Why should he be sorry? You feel sick. “Whatever, alright? It’s fine.” You rub at your eyes, at the tears that never fell. “We all have baggage.” Yours just happens to be a sick, indebted father, and a strained relationship with your dead mom. “I voted to leave, even though that money up there isn’t enough to cover it all. Whatever your baggage is, beyond these damn games, isn’t my fault, and you shouldn’t be taking it out on me.” Gi-hun just stares at you, wide-eyed, looking a little younger. Not by very much - but he looks like the man he might’ve been, before his first time in these games. 

A thought bubbles up like a laugh, that it’s probably been a while since he was last scolded by a woman for hurting her feelings.

He presses his lips together, eyes darting to the side, and you realize, belatedly, that his hand is still warm on your arm. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, softer this time. “I told you, though, I’ll give you enough money to cover your debts. Your father’s, too.” He squeezes your shoulder, his other hand partially raised, almost in surrender.

You would laugh if that sentiment doesn’t twist the knife in deeper, despite being well-intentioned. “I already feel horrible enough, taking the blood money from this game,” you reply, voice tight. “I don’t know if I can handle your ghosts on top of my own.”

Gi-hun’s expression twists, but there’s a deep understanding in his eyes. “Please. If that money is good for anything, it’s helping people escape the same fate that others couldn’t.”

Your insides are churning, a befuddling mixture of guilt, pain, understanding, appreciation, and… something else, something you shove deep down. If your feelings for Young-il were misplaced, you refuse to make the same mistake twice. But something about Gi-hun tells you that he’s unmarried, unattached. A man with any kind of relationship in the outside world, filial or romantic, wouldn’t come back to a place like this.

“If we make it out,” you finally reply, your shoulders dropping, arms loosening. Gi-hun nods, his expression drawing in at the reminder. One more game. “I’m still with you, Gi-hun. I trust you.”

He smiles, just a little, and finally releases your shoulder, albeit hesitantly. There’s something strange in his eyes, stress or guilt or something more. As you finally walk away, you don’t let yourself wonder, don’t let yourself get caught up in frivolous emotions for a man who carries too much weight to ever let someone else lighten the load. And you pretend you don’t feel Young-il’s eyes watching you as you take a bed in the corner with Gi-hun’s group, choosing to lay down and stare at the mattress above you, trying not to think of anything at all.

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵ ﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

♡  ⁄ taglist: @pursued-by-the-squid @in-hos-wife @bloooooopblopblop <33333 @nellabear @gloriousjellyfisharcade @politicstanner @xcinnamonmalfoyx @beebeechaos @delfinadolphin @bbrainr0t @ineedazeezee @watasinekoru @solarpotato @nerdytif @speedymagazinewhispers @machipyun @dilfismz

[with-my-calamitous-love]

i meant to finish this some time ago 😭 but anyway, back on my bodyguard rotting! special tag for @crushmeeren because i think i put this in ur inbox a while ago and never got around to it lol, anyway here it is. nsfw under divider, f! reader for that part 🤍🫧

bodyguard! eijiro, who has a smile just like sunshine. who has a dopey grin and the personality of a golden retriever. who, on paper, doesn’t sound like he’d be capable of even hurting a fly- until you see his rock hard muscles peaking through his shirt, or the jagged edges of his skin after activating his quirk. who, 90% of the time, is so sweet its tooth rotting. the other 10% of the time, he’s a nightmare to whoever threatens you.

bodyguard! eijiro, who genuinely loves his job. he’s level-headed and rational, able to solve most disputes with some talking or light physical action. who can’t complain, because after all, most of his day is being around a funny, beautiful person- so who cares if he has to rough up a guy for cutting you off or being too touchy? he’s happy to do it.

bodyguard! eijiro, who takes ‘doing anything to protect you’ and makes it ‘doing anything for you.’ don’t feel like driving? he’s got it. have a very specific craving at 2 in the morning? no questions asked. he’s also attentive, noting your mannerisms or idiosyncrasies that make you, you. he may not say it, but he knows those subtle signs of burn out, or anxiety, or exhaustion. as much as his job is to protect you from external threats, he cares just as much- if not more- about protecting your happiness.

bodyguard! eijiro, who is the best person to bring to bars or clubs. the first reason being that you’d trust him if you were hanging off a ledge, but the second being that he’s just may be the funniest, most charming guy you’ve ever met. who doesn’t even realize how attractive it is, the way he can make you lose your breath with laughter while maintaining an iron grip on your drink, placing his hand on your waist and protectively eyeing anyone who’s eyes seem a little too stuck on you for his liking.

bodyguard! eijiro, who asks if its okay if he take the two of you back to his place because its closer, and because he secretly doesn’t want the night to end. who sees your shoes by the door, coat laying on his couch, and you unwinding in his washroom and feels a little pang in his heart. who knows his feelings well and knows damn well by now he has a crush, but keeps it professional. until you can’t hold it in any longer and tell him how bad you have it for him. by then, he’s throwing you over his shoulder and towards his bedroom.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.*

bodyguard! ejiro, who is just as sweet as he is rough. who will tug off your clothes (shredding them if he has to) and apologetically kiss the bare skin underneath. who has sharp teeth, and won’t hesitate to sink them in even if you tear up a little. who manhandles you, tossing you around on the bed like its nothing, whispering: “you like this position, baby?” “let me know what feels good.�� meanwhile, he’s folding you like origami.

bodyguard! eijiro, who loves your tits. who can’t resist grabbing himself a handful once he gets your bra off, captivated by the way the jiggle and spring free. who can be a little mean, pinching and twisting your nipples before taking one in his mouth. who makes sure you feel his razor sharp teeth graze the sensitive bud, alternating between the two, giving each the same amount of love and attention. who releases them with a slight pop! deciding he wants to taste more of you.

bodyguard! eijiro, makes sure your comfortable before going down on you like he’s starving. on any other day, he’d ease into it- slowly kissing, soft licks and light sucking- but who has waited so long to do this he hopes you’ll forgive his impatience. who makes sure your thighs wrap around his head, eating your pussy out like its his last meal. who literally will not move from between your legs until you make him, telling him that you’re already dizzy with pleasure.

bodyguard! eijiro, who smirks a little when he pulls his boxers down, letting his cock spring free, seeing your eyes widen and your cheeks blush. who, quite frankly, knows he’s big, but also knows how to use it. who takes your thighs and folds you in half, giving him a better view. who’ll run the tip of his cock through your folds, hearing your whines and feeling it go straight to his dick. who meets no resistance finally pushing himself inside you, moaning in unison when he feels your pretty walls taking him in.

bodyguard! eijiro, who has god-like stamina. who makes that skin slapping noise he knows drives you insane, grunting and moaning when he feels himself reach mind-meltingly deep inside you. who wrecks your pussy and praises you while he’s doing it: “taking me so good, ah.” “making me feel so good, princess? shit, i’m not stopping anytime soon.” who makes a mental note to himself that he’ll probably run out the next morning to grab you plan b.

speaking of which… bodyguard! eijiro, who slows down just a little, asking you where you want him to finish. who could cum right then and there when you tell him you don’t want him pulling out, to which he’s more than happy to oblige. who feels his orgasm coming, but draws out yours as much as possible- massaging your tits, kissing you deep, rubbing little circles on your clit. who makes sure he’s buried deep when he feels you cum, groaning as he feels your walls clamp down on his cock. who pumps in and out a few more times before collapsing down beside you. who, 2 seconds later, gets up to grab you water or ice, but who can’t resist when you pull him back into bed, vowing to deal with the soreness as long as he’s next to you.

bodyguard! eijiro, who is more than happy to carry you around everywhere the next morning, returning back to his jovial green like he didn’t just rearrange your organs the night before. <3

[buck-star]

Shattering glass

Bucky gets into a fight with John on the ice. Luckily, you’re there to fix his injuries and offer him a lot of much needed kisses.

Pairing: Collegr!HockeyCaptain!Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x College!Girlfriend!Reader

Wordcount: 2.295 Words

Warnings/Tags: Established relationship, college au, ex-boyfriend John Walker, fight on the ice, bruises, mention of blood, mention of cleaning wounds, language, talking about sex/nudity, kissing, fluff, petnames [Steady, Pengu]

Authors Note: This work is a “What if: Bucky as Hockey Player” after “Summer of love”. While he’s actually a football captain, for this he turned into a Hockey Captain. If you have any asks about these two feel free! Shout out to @elixirfromthestars for helping to come up with the idea and help with the nicknames. Divider made by me.

Events: Bucky Boy Bingo [N3 | Free Space | @buckyboybingo], Seasonal Delights Bingo: Types of love [B3 | Covering their face with their hands from being flustered | @seasonaldelightsbingo]

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Endless love Collection

“Fuckin’ idiot!” Bucky groans loudly when John kicks his hockey stick into the back of Bucky’s legs. The brunette immediately turns to the rival, his eyes narrowing underneath his helmet, and he spits out the protection for his teeth. “Dickhead, I’m talking to ya!”

The other man slides over the ice, paying no attention to the angry man. Bucky huffs, shaking off his gloves and basically running after the other with his ice skates. His hockey stick lands somewhere on the ice as well.

“John fuckin’ Walker, you fuckin’ whore. I’m talking to ya, so don’t dare to ignore me like the little bitch ya are,” Bucky shouts after him. His voice is rough and filled with anger. He’s shouting loudly, but his words are only muffled behind the ice ring — for you not audible.

However, you don’t need to hear him to know what he’s saying. Bucky’s face is almost red from the boiling emotions; he’s never good with someone disrespecting another player — he already deserves an award for having the most fights on the ice. Though, you guess the brunette is even more mad at the other captain because he’s your ex-boyfriend, and showing him what he thinks about John is something Bucky does like a whole lot — every now and then.

“What do you want, Barnes,” John shouts back, frustrated. He’s turning on his skates, still moving away from Bucky but this time backwards while the other man is still gliding closer to him on the ice. “It was an accident; didn’t know you’re such a coward.”

“Excuse ya,” Bucky says, his voice low when he tilts his head to the side. John grins through the helmet, spitting out the protection in his mouth. “What did ya just say?”

“I said I didn’t know you’re such a baby that you would cry when someone hit you with a stick. Did she turn you into a little crybaby?” John laughs. He is facing the brunette, his eyes locked with the other man’s eyes while Bucky speeds up and crashes the man into the edge of the ice rink.

A loud noise of shattering glass erupts in the hall, and loud gasps are audible when Bucky pushes John with such a force into the edge of the ice rink that he breaks the glass of it.

Bucky chuckles low in his throat when he pulls back slightly, just to ram his shoulder back into the other man’s ribs. “Yeah, what did ya say about my girl, huh?”

“Fuck you,” John spits into Bucky’s face, grinning as the brunette wipes his helmet off his head to run his arm over his face. With a chuckle, John pushes himself out of the glass and tackles Bucky with his shoulder to the side.

Your eyes widen when you see the growing annoyance in your boyfriend's blue eyes, his jaw clenching just like his fists as he sets a punch underneath John's chin and causes his head to fly back with a groan.

The blond-haired man catches himself slightly, at least enough for his fist to connect with Bucky’s cheekbone and underneath his eyes. The skin above his cheekbone breaks, leaving Bucky bleeding when John stumbles back. The brunette's eyes narrow further with a groan; he runs his fingers over his cheek, noticing the blood that’s stuck to his skin. Bucky tilts his head, a dangerous and cold smile forming on his lips, his usual soft blue eyes now dark.

“A baby, ya say? Cry baby because of my girl?” Bucky chuckles, moving closer to the other man, who backs away slightly. Everyone is watching the two of them, no one daring to move or even make a noise. “The only thing that makes me cry is my girl's perfect little cunt when it's gripping me so tightly that I feel like I'm fuckin’ for the first time. Know what I mean? Hugging my dick so perfectly when I fuck her slow and deep to make her feel every fuckin’ inch of my cock.”

John's eyes widen at Bucky’s words, his head turning to where you sit. Even his teammates look at you, while Bucky grins. Steve rolls his eyes, shooting you an apologetic look while you sit there with your mouth slightly parted and your eyes wide.

It's not just that Bucky said such a thing, because he can't know. But he comes up with something like that just to annoy John. Bucky and you haven't had sex yet, not that he didn't want to, but he doesn't pressure you, and you didn't feel comfortable enough after John. Plus, Bucky's soft kisses, the cuddles, and the showers together are so good too, and Bucky doesn’t mind that at all. He would wait forever to have sex with you, and even if you say you don't want it at all, he has two hands for good use, too.

“You- What the fuck?” John stumbles over his own words, shaking his head. He scrunches his nose in disgust about the pictures in his head of Bucky fucking you. You watch them intensely, feeling your cheeks heat up, especially when Bucky looks at you with a soft but also devilish grin at you. “You're a fucking disgusting— she doesn't even let you fuck her because she has that weird imagination of her perfect first time.”

Bucky laughs loudly, throwing his head back. If he didn't have that cold expression in his eyes, he would probably look amused. He reaches out to wrap one of his calloused hands around John's neck, pulling him flush against his broad chest. Bucky's fingers tighten around the other man's neck, and he glares at John.

“Looks like I made it special enough for her,” Bucky growls. You feel a lot of people staring at you, at least people who are able to understand their conversation. You hide yourself in Bucky's jersey, your cheeks heating up even more. John is saying the truth; you didn't sleep with him because you didn't want it to be a fuck without anything meaningful. While Bucky is lying about your sex life, he manages to make John angrier with his words.

Without another word, he throws John back into another glass of the ring around the ice. John groans, trying to get off, but Bucky's already on top of him, setting a punch to John’s chin and cheek. Just when Bucky is about to bring his fist down on John's nose, the man underneath him causes Bucky’s head to be thrown to the side and other bruises just above his head.

Only then, when both are bleeding and setting punch after punch, do the referees and coaches walk over to the two and try to get them off of one another. You get up slowly from your seat, walking over to the side where Bucky's team is sitting. Their eyes are on the scene between the shouting players while they are dragged in two directions off the ice.

“Idiotic asshole,” John shouts, earning a low, rough laugh from your boyfriend. Bucky's coach is talking to him, his arm wrapped around the hockey captain's shoulders while Bucky nods every once in a while and says something you can't understand.

Bucky smiles and grabs the side of the door that leads off the ice. His eyes move to the seat you were sitting on; a frown appears on his face when you're not there. You smile softly, noticing the way he lets his ocean blue orbs roam all the way from your seat to the booth where his teammates are sitting — and where you're standing next to.

“Steady,” Bucky grins at you, walking over with his ice skates still on. You lean your head back to look your boyfriend in the face. With his skates on, he's even bigger than usual. Bucky places both of his big hands on your waist and pulls you flush against him. “I fuckin’ kicked the jerks ass.”

“Mhm, but you’re bleeding, Pengu,” you mutter, letting your hands run up and down his broad chest. Bucky smirks, shrugging slightly before he lowers his head even more to kiss you. With a soft sigh and a shake of your head, you let him kiss you. Bucky’s lips are soft and warm against yours, a grin forming on his lips when you grumble in the kiss.

“You’re grumpy, Steady, aren’t you?” Bucky chuckles, pulling back slightly. You roll your eyes, earning a soft digging of his fingers into your sides until you squirm and giggle. “How about I clean it, huh?”

You nod, pushing him back and taking his calloused hand in yours to walk with him to the locker rooms. Your boyfriend looks at you with a soft, loving expression at you. His fingers are tightly interlaced with yours while he runs his thumb over the back of your hand.

You lead Bucky to the locker rooms, pushing him down on the bench in front of his locker before you rummage through it and look for the first aid kit every player has there. Bucky watches you with his intense blue eyes, smiling softly while he leans back a bit and spreads his legs.

“Have ya seen his expression? Walker was such a mad little bitch,” Bucky chuckles. You roll your eyes, giggling when you move to stand in front of him. You place the first aid kit in his hands and open it.

“You didn’t have to mention such information about our sex life. How do you even— we didn’t have sex; how did you come up with that, Pengu?” You ask, taking a wipe.

You inspect his injuries for a moment; the bruise above his eye is blue and swollen slightly, while the bruise underneath the same eye is swollen and the skin is ripped open. The blood is already dried, covering his cheek around the wound.

You wipe the pad over the bruises, cleaning off the blood. Bucky hisses slightly when you add a bit more pressure, causing a slight stinging feeling. You smile apologetically, kissing Bucky’s forehead.

His hands find their way back to your waist, gripping you tightly and digging his fingers into your soft flesh. “I’m just a man, Steady. My imagination is runnin’ wild sometimes, especially when ya are not wearing clothes.”

You feel your cheeks heat up under his intense gaze and his honest words. You place the wipe to the side and close the first aid kit again. Only then do you look him in the eyes again, locking yours with his.

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours, Steady?” Bucky asks, placing the first aid kit to the side before he pulls you into his lap. With a giggle and a soft shriek, you straddle his lap. Bucky wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer toward him. He’s still keeping some space to be able to look at you.

“Do you ever… regret anything? I mean, because I don’t… because we haven’t had sex yet?” You whisper, searching Bucky’s blue orbs for every sign of a lie when he opens his mouth to answer you. But instead of a weird look or anything, he only shows you the softness and honesty he always shows you.

“No, Steady, I would never regret anything with ya because of some sex. Yeah, I get hard when we cuddle in the tub or naked sometimes, but that’s nothing bad. It’s just like ya getting wet, and I bet ya were dripping for me often already, huh?” Bucky teases, making you gasp. You lift your hands, covering your face with them before you lean against Bucky’s shoulder to hide further.

“PENGU!” You growl, squirming in his lap. Bucky laughs softly, knowing he’s right. But saying it out loud is something different than just thinking about it.

“Nothin’ to be ashamed about. But, anyway, no matter how hard I am for you or how much you’re dripping. As long as you don't say you want it, I can use my hand or just wait and take a shower,” Bucky explains; he knows that you’re smart enough to know it yourself. But it’s his way to assure you — and it does assure you. “I don’t regret anythin’ just because of some sex. I love you, not for your pussy, but for being the sweet, precious girl ya are — my girl.”

“I love you too, Pengu. And you kicked his ass so bad,” you smirk. Pushing yourself backward to grin at Bucky. He nods his head, a proud expression on his face when he thinks about the way he has beaten John. “But who’s gonna pay for the glass the two of you smashed?”

“The coach… the school? The team? They are allowed to tackle and fight during hockey games. They only step in once one is on the ground and the other throws himself on them. So they know that sometimes we break glass while we fight,” Bucky shrugs, pulling you closer. His breath is warm against your lips, and your heart skips a beat when he inches closer.

His tongue darts out, licking his lips before he captures your lips with his. His soft lips moving against yours, Bucky’s tongue sliding over your lips, but before you part your lips, the door to the locker rooms opens, and the voices of the other echo through the room.

“Bucky! That’s better than a porn here,” Sam laughs, looking at the two of you. You try to pull away, but Bucky keeps your lips pressed to his, deepening the kiss once more. You can imagine Sam rolling his eyes while Bucky grins against your lips and even makes you moan with his tongue twirling around yours in the most delicious way possible.

Taglist: @sergeantbarnessdoll @rogersbarber @loki-laufeyson68 @etherealdisneyvillainness @winterschildren8 @pono-pura-vida @kimmie113080 @sergeantbarnessdoll @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @holylulusworld @randomawesomeperson102 @looking1016 @multiversefanfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @iris-xoxo-juhu @fckedupandbeautiful @hisredheadedgoddess28 @casa-boiardi @blackhawkfanatic @mrsalexstan @thesarcasmqueen-22 @kandis-mom @peachy-satan00 @armystay89 @queen-honeybee-stories @alexxavicry @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men [tag yourself]

[revelboo]

Ok but why do we have the same music taste?? I didnt even entirely realise outsude of the I Fight Dragons songs at first but I listen to every single one of those

Great minds think alike 😅

Everything Is Alright Pt 130

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Servos pressing against his chassis over his spark chamber, it’s hard not to fixate on that fragile, little spark tangled in him. Something Megatron had never actually thought to want. Never allowed himself to even consider it as an option. But now that it’s happened? He just desperately wants to protect this. Remembering the feel of you drifting through him, that you’d felt like sunshine, bright and warm. Addictive. It’s not like he’d lied- the spark will need contact with you. Strengthening it by spark bonding again and again. At least, that’s how it’s supposed to work, but the carrier is also supposed to keep the spark.

• Frustrated, he lets himself into the Constructicons’s habsuite looking for Hook and somehow isn’t the least bit surprised to see the biggest of them, Bonecrusher, leaning forward cooing at a little human sitting on his thigh as he offers them a package of some kind of human food. Because of course they’ve got a human, too. Suspects there’s more than a few of them smuggled aboard the Nemesis at this point. It’s the thing they’ve built against the wall that gets his attention, though. Bending slightly to study what they’ve done without his permission. And all of them are frozen, watching him. “What is this?” He asks, forgetting that he’d wanted to ask the medic about sparklings and spark bonds.

• Watching Scrapper come forward, hands away from his frame, Megatron resists the urge to smile at the mech’s obvious discomfort. ‘Just a little habitat. For the human.’ The Constructicon shrugs slightly even as he manages to look guilty. Putting himself between Megatron and his brothers, taking responsibility. ‘No one’s fraggin’ it,’ Scrapper adds as Bonecrusher curls his hand protectively around you. If the Constructicons aren’t fragging theirs, it’s probably just a matter of time until one of them tries to. What is it about humans that makes his troops lose all control? The interfacing can’t just be that good. But studying the little structure with its facilities, he can’t deny the Constructicons are onto something. Maybe you’d like something like this? “Can you build more of these?”

• Staring after his cassettes and their little human, Soundwave’s servos flex against you. Not wanting to give you up, wanting to spend time with you. Ask you to bond to him, do it right this time. Not deal with whatever is going on there. Rumbling when Starscream reaches to take you from him with a haughty, ‘looks like you’ve got a mess to deal with.’ And you look back at him as the Seeker carries you off, your expression making his spark ache. Because there’s always someone else needing him, demanding his time. So used to ignoring what he wants to look after everything else. And he just wants some time with you.

• Soundwave looks so lost, staring after you as Star carries you back to his habsuite. Just immediately sitting on his berth and mass shifting. Wrapping himself around you with a shuddering intake through his vents. And it’s the first time you’ve been alone with him since what he’d done. Since he’d stripped away Soundwave’s bond. Hurt you and Soundwave. “Why did you do it?” You ask, unable to just let it go as his servos run over you, like he’s checking for injuries. Reassuring himself that you’re okay.

• Denta gritting at the soft, hurt question, his wings flick. Because no answer is going to be good enough to excuse that. Doesn’t even know how to start making amends for it. Helm brushing your forehead so he can focus on those eyes he loves, he vents softly. “Jealousy. Fear,” he admits, gripping your arm when you try to lean away. “I thought I was losing you piece by piece. That I was being replaced.” Other hand cupping your cheek to keep you from turning away, his own optics shutter. Ashamed of what he’d done in a fit of jealous anger. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Our sparkling. You’re all I have.”

• That doesn’t make it better. Not by a long shot, but you’d driven him to this. Made him feel that Soundwave was replacing him. “I love Soundwave,” you say and those red optics open, leaning forward to stay pressed against him when he tries to lean back, you grab onto his shoulders. “And I love you. This is all really messed up and I know it.“ Unable to choose between them and accidentally hurting them both over and over. It’s all you, isn’t it? “I don’t know how to stop loving him.”

• And you sound so lost, pressing your face against his shoulder as he cups the back of your head. “I knew when I started falling in love with you, that this wouldn’t be easy. I tried to do what was right by you. To let you go and couldn’t even do that,” he growls, tucking you more firmly against him. “We’re both a bit fragged up.” Hears you snort at him as he forces your chin up. “Are you leaking again?” Venting affectionately, he brushes his mouth against your forehead. “We’ll figure this out together.”

Previous

Next

[lovecla]

TBH ; LUKE HUGHES

PAIR ex-luke hughes x fem!reader, auston matthews x fem!reader

SUMMARY maybe luke hughes’ passion isn’t enough. he just doesn’t know about it, yet.

WORD COUNT 1.1k

WARNINGS suggestive, jealous luke, size kink, heavily inspired by the song ‘tbh’ by partynextdoor, lowkey toxic luke, mentions of sex.

FROM ME TO YOU listen, i know i have, like, one hundred and twenty things to write but this is one of my favorite songs and i just wanted to leave this here!!! this is something super short, messy and not at all my style, but i still wanted to do something with this song. i’d recommend reading this while listening to the song ;) as always, i love you and have a nice reading!

𐙚

HE COULD’VE swear he felt it when you entered the room.

It wouldn’t be easy to explain if he tried to, but with the way the hairs on his arms stood up when you stepped into the room, he knew he was screwed.

He was sitting on the couch across the room, with a couple of people standing in front of him, as he discussed with Curtis about something he now can’t seem to remember.

“Duude.” He heard Curtis calling him, and he nodded, his perfectly styled curls moving with his head.

“Yeah?” He answered, but he didn’t bother turning around to look at his teammate. No, he couldn’t. Not when you had just entered the room with no one other than the captain of the Toronto Maple Leafs, Auston Matthews.

Luke didn’t know what he was feeling, but he knew it wasn’t right. He was sitting somewhere angry and frustrated as he watched the way your body seemed to float towards Auston’s. The dress you had chosen for that night would probably be in his thanksgiving speech, because he was, indeed, thankful for the opportunity to see you wearing something like that: short, white, almost transparent with a huge slit in the middle, that left little to the imagination.

He didn’t even know why he was noticing you in the first place, since he remembers how he was the one who fucked everything up between the two of you, but fuck. He can’t really help it.

The way you’re laughing at the shit Matthews’s saying, the way you blush slightly under the warm lighting whenever he touches your waist or lower back. The way Luke can tell everyone thinks how much the two of you look good together.

And it infuriates him.

But now— now, you have finally noticed him. You were scanning the room with your eyes when you made eye contact with him, dropping your smile in a millisecond. He can see the way you gulp and hold Auston’s hand a bit tighter.

Luke watches as you force yourself to draw your attention back to the conversation happening in front of you, but he feels accomplished when he notices that, once in a while, you will look at him, for nothing more than a second.

Still.

He finishes the rest of his beer, feeling the bitter taste of it fill up his mouth. He wants to scream at himself to let you go, to stop staring at you like a fucking creep, to not let his mind wander through dangerous, dangerous memories.

Yet, he does none of these things.

He just watches the way your nipples pierced the dress you were wearing, hard and there for everyone to see. He licks his lips, remembering how happy he was when you’d told him you weren’t much of a bra type of girl.

You say something to Matthews before kissing his cheek and excusing yourself, walking towards what Luke assumed to be the bathroom.

“Man,” he hears Curtis, again. “She’s not yours anymore.”

And? He wants to ask. “I know.” Is all he says.

Knowing that you aren’t his anymore doesn't stop him from getting up and going after you, leaving the beer bottle on the table sitting in the corner before walking down the expensive hallway until he’s standing at the door.

“Luke, what—” he hears you asking, but he doesn’t say anything. He just walks inside the bathroom with you and closes the door behind him, hungrily eyeing your body, as he had been doing for the past few minutes.

“Y/n,” is what he says, and you have to pretend that hearing him say your name for the first time in months doesn’t affect you. Because it shouldn’t. “I miss you.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Luke?” You hear yourself asking— you’ve fantasized about this scenario several times before and you’re still not sure of what you’re supposed to do. “You can’t just say things like that. I’m with Auston now and God,” you put your right hand on your forehead. “If anyone sees us here, together, then—”

“I can see that you’re with him,” he scoffs. “It’s all over your face. The way you look at him makes me sick.”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do about that,” you say, crossing your arms in front of your chest, not missing the way his eyes linger around your boobs for longer than they should. “Luke.”

“Does he know you used to belong to me?”

His question takes you by surprise, and you bite your lips, suppressing a frustrated moan. “If you let me end things with you because you didn’t want to make our relationship public, then why would I tell people about it? It was your choice not to.”

He knew you were right. And that made him even more upset.

“Then he doesn’t know about the things we did,” he whispers, standing tall in front of you, making you realize once again that he’s much larger than you, much bigger, much stronger. “He doesn’t know about how loud I could make you scream, how wet your pussy would get whenever you saw me, how you loved when I threw you around like you were nothing but a toy.”

“Luke—” you sigh, but he shakes his head, while pressing his thumb against your bottom lip. His touch burned.

“How when we first started dating you’d cry because you were so worried that I wouldn’t fit,” he chuckles, like the memory itself is enough to make him laugh. “And how you cried even more when I made it fit, when I forced my cock inside that tight, little cunt of yours.”

“Luke, stop,” you mumble against his finger. “You… you shouldn’t be telling me this. We’re— we’re over.”

“No, Y/n, we aren’t,” he says, kissing your cheek, gently. “I miss it when you’d lay with me, body so tiny next to mine it makes me hard just thinking about it,” he presses his finger harder against you. “I miss it, Y/n.”

You sigh, closing your eyes.

“So, tell me, baby, are you with me?”

You shake your head.

“No,” you say, even if you don’t want to. “Not anymore.”

“Y/n, fuck. I loved you.” He reasons, and you open your eyes, just to frown at him.

“Your passion, or whatever you want to call it, isn’t enough,” you answer, stepping away from his touch. “You don’t have what I need.”

“Liar.”

“Maybe,” you whisper. “But that’s just how life is.”

“You’re not being honest with yourself, Y/n, you want me.” He argues, scrunching his curls in his hands.

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” You ask, raising your eyebrow before turning around and leaving the room.

Leaving Luke and your history with him behind.

if you want more… ! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

LUKE HUGHES MASTERLIST.

NHL MASTERLIST.

[crowsofdarkness]

A very smutty night with Bucky,

18+ CW's below the cut(unprotected pinv, spanking with a leather belt and Bucky's vibranium hand, handcuffing, orgasm denial, use of vibrator and dildo on the reader.)

"Bucky?" I called out when I finally stepped into our darker bedroom, only to be met with an ear ringing silence. 

The entire Avengers Compound was quiet, no one in any of the common rooms. I’d been out with Wanda and Nat, a girls night, and had been sending Bucky teasing texts all night to rile him up. How did he respond? 

By sending me a video of him jerking himself off into a pair of my panties. 

My hand smacked against the wall, looking for the light switch, but I let out a scream when a hand wrapped around my throat from behind, cool leather pressing against the heated skin as a deep voice spoke.

"You're late."

Goosebumps pricked at my skin as I found myself leaning into the broad chest against my back.

“I would have been here earlier if someone didn’t distract me with a certain video,” I tossed back at the voice over my shoulder. 

He breathed me in then let go of his grip around my throat, pushing me forward slightly and I tried to maneuver my way through the dark until suddenly, the bedside table lamp clicked on, a warm ashen glow showcasing the man that stood on the other side of the bed, it creating a barrier between us. Bucky was blanketed in his own darkness as he slowly removed the hood of his sweater, his long strands of hair falling just before his shoulders.

Now, he pointed to my dress. “Keep that on and get on your stomach on the bed.” 

My pussy clenched, slick with arousal ever since I watched the video; more than once. Not wanting to disobey him, I laid on my stomach on the soft bed which dipped behind me as Bucky knelt. 

“So pretty,” he mused while lifting up the hem of my dress over my ass. 

“Bucky,” I whined. 

A swift smack to my ass seized whatever words I was about to utter. 

Fuck, every time he spanked me with his vibranium hand it sent a shockwave through my system.

“You’ve been teasing me all night, doll. I don’t want to hear a sound out of you while you receive your punishment, understood?” Bucky’s eyes zoned in on my round ass in front of him. 

All I could pay attention to was the way his eyes watched me which didn’t please him so he laid another hard smack to my ass, causing me to cry out into the palm of my hand. 

“Hm, good girl,” he praised. 

The darkness that laced his voice suddenly was no longer as he leaned his body over towards my ear. “If it gets to be too much, Y/N, say Mercy. Alright?”

I couldn’t hide my eagerness as I nodded. “Keep going.” 

The only sound that lingered in the air of our bedroom was the sound of skin on skin as Bucky laid smack after smack against my ass; so red already. When he felt like I had enough, he rolled me onto my back so I could gaze up at him. 

“How wet are you, Doll?” He wondered, dragging a finger over my panties. “I can feel how soaked your panties are. Was it the video or the spankings?”

I swallowed. “Both.” 

Hooking a finger through the waistband, he ripped them down my legs before bunching the material of my dresses over my stomach. His large hands held onto my knees with a bruising force, spreading me wide for him. 

“I fucking knew it,” he said while dipping a finger between my folds, my moan getting caught in my throat. 

Bucky was knuckle deep as he fingered me hard and fast.

"Oh god," I buried my face into the crook of my arm, my orgasm already so close to the brink of collapse. 

“Fuck. Feels so good, Bucky," I gasped when he slipped another finger inside of me.

He curled them inside of me, bringing me closer to the edge of bliss. It felt like all of my senses were heightened yet before I could finally drown in it, Bucky slipped away from me leaving me empty. Before I could protest, his mouth devoured mine in a kiss so dizzying, I grasped at his sweater to keep myself grounded. 

“I got a surprise for you, doll,” he muttered into the kiss before rolling off of me, disappearing to the side of the bed and tossed a bag full of goodies next to me. 

Holy shit.

“Bucky,” I panted, body wrecked from yet another orgasm denial. “I can-I can’t do this anymore.” 

The metal handcuffs dug into my wrists as my arms were pulled tight behind my back, exposing my breasts to Bucky, who was lying underneath me with a smug smile on his face. After fucking me deep into the bed while I still wore my dress, he managed to pull out of me seconds before either of us came apart. 

“What’s the matter, doll? Tapping out already?” Bucky cocked his head to the side, assessing me with a predatory gaze. 

“P-please. I feel like my body is about to explode. I just want to cum, this isn't fair,” I whined which made him press the vibrator harder against my clit and I cried out. 

Bucky had it on the highest setting and everytime I felt like I was about to convulse on the dildo that was fully settled inside of me, he would yank the vibrator away. 

He leant up his face towards me so I could feel his warmth breath across my lips. “What’s not fair is you sending those texts and pictures to me all night knowing I can't do anything about it.” 

My lips parted to apologize, even though we both knew I didn’t need to. It was all part of this game. But Bucky was quick to lift me from the bed and roughly force me to my knees, a playful gleam in my eyes. In my naughty texts from earlier, I may have let it slip that I wanted him to be rough tonight. 

Bucky towered over me from my spot on the floor of our bedroom and his cock was so close to my face, I nearly darted my tongue out to lick up the precum that seeped out of the slit. 

Shortly after he fucked me in my dress, he tore away both of our clothes, before handcuffing my wrists together. While Bucky had been denying both of us orgasms all night, he also denied me touching him. Any time I tried, he would whip me with the leather belt that was currently hanging over the headboard. My ass was raw with marks covering every inch of skin, and I fucking loved it. 

Bucky’s calloused but gentle flesh hand cupped my cheek, forcing our eyes to lock. 

“Safe word?” He whispered into the darkness of the bedroom, only illuminated by the lamp on the bedside table

I pressed a kiss to the inside of his palm. “I’m good, Bucky.” 

Suddenly darkness bled those eyes black and he leaned closer to my face with a tight grip around his thick cock. 

“Good because you’re going to sit there like the good slut I know you to be and open that pretty little mouth of yours so I can paint it with my cum.”

His voice was gone, overcum with the lust that consumed all of him, and it nearly vibrated against his broad chest. 

“If you disobey, well I think we know what’s going to happen,” Bucky thread the belt between his hand to snap the leather together, the noise echoing throughout the room. 

I jumped but nodded eagerly. “I’ll be a good girl. I’ll listen.” 

His thumb now grazed over my cheek. “Then open up for me, doll.” 

I obeyed. 

“Fuck,” Bucky bit down on the back of my shoulder, digging his fingers into the flesh of my ass. His cock twitched inside of me as he held onto his breath. 

“Doll, I can’t-I can’t hold it. I’m so close-.” Bucky admitted through gritted teeth. 

With my face still pressed deep into the mattress by his vibranium hand, I pressed my ass farther back into him. My body was completely wrecked from the last three orgasms he forced out of me with the black rose vibrator, and I was desperate to finally hear him let go after denying himself all night. 

“Please Bucky,” I managed to say. “Please, I need it. I need you to fill me up.”  

“Fucking hell, doll,” he dragged nearly all of his cock out of my pussy, slowly fucking me with the head before sinking himself all the way in again. 

I glanced over my shoulder at him and watched with euphoria as Bucky’s eyes rolled back when he let his head fall, nearly choking on a breath. With a groan so sinful it made my spine ignite and two more hard snaps of his hips, he finally spilled himself inside of me. 

“Take all of it,” Bucky demanded before collapsing his large frame over mine on the bed, cock still buried deep inside of me. 

We lay there in a mess of sweat, cum, and tangled limbs when Bucky finally pushed himself off of me, the emptiness I felt between my legs paling in comparison to the cum dripping down the inside of my thigh. 

He pressed a delicate kiss to my shoulder as he lay next to me. “You sure you’re alright?” 

I gave him a blissful smile, still not being able to open my eyes. “I’m more than alright.” 

“Good,” Bucky swept away the matted hair from my face just as I slowly opened my eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Bucky,” I lazily kissed his chest before letting sleep finally pull me under. 

[ithinkthiswasabadidea]

I'm not anywhere really near or into Kingdom Come: Deliverance, but since the second game released recently, I've seen a lot of new attention on my social medias, particularly around Henry and Hans' relationship

And I, very obviously, love queer characters and relationships, and even moreso the canon ones, so I watched the IGN video explaining how one might romance Hans in the second game

Man. I was blown away.

By now I've played a handful of rpg's and romanced a handful of npc's, but not ONCE has the dialogue and action of a confession scene ever felt quite so real and as beautifully acted

I have almost zero other context about the games or characters, yet I haven't stopped thinking about that romance scene in days

That you build up the affection and genuine care for Hans through dialogue choices feels completely non-forced, and you can tell that Hans enjoys your presence and respects you immensely. Henry gently encouraging and helping Hans when he's uncomfortable, always concerned about his wellbeing. There's such a solid foundation of mutual trust that even I, as an outside viewer, can tell that both men truly would put their lives in the others hands

And then the confession scene itself? Henry coming to say goodbye, and because of the work that has been put in to convey Henry's feelings of care and devotion for Hans, it's Hans himself who starts the conversation. He tells a story that he 'doesn't have his own words for', displaying that he's uncertain about how this might go, but knowing that it needs to be said before Henry leaves. He's both deflecting and projecting, using this story as a way to cushion the segue into his own feelings, or the blow of rejection should it come. And as Hans imagines something terrible happening to Henry, he immediately gets emotional, voice shaking, knowing he'd be unable to help

There's a small moment as Henry reassures that he'll be alright, when he places a hand on top of Hans' and this small, delightfully hopeful smile appears on Hans' face. I take this to be the moment where Hans believes that Henry has understood his story, and his way of confessing his feelings, and that Henry feels the same way about him. Then Henry stands, moving to leave and Hans' smile drops. Perhaps Henry's confidence falters here, and before he can reciprocate his true feelings and kiss him, Hans is running on adrenaline and courage and pulls Henry into the kiss instead, before he can second-guess himself

It's awkward, uncertain. Hans has this almost crushing grip on Henry like he's barely sure what he's just done, just that he couldn't let him walk away without doing something . And when Henry turns his head and steps back, noises of shock and breathlessness, Hans jumps back like he's been burned and spurned. He's stammering and stuttering out an apology, quiet and upset, unlike his usual self

Hans' body language as he turns away, making himself smaller, making more space between them than is necessary, it displays how he thinks his actions have just been perceived - that Henry doesn't feel the same way, he just ruined a perfectly good friendship, he's made himself look weak. He rubs at his mouth like he wishes he could remove the feel of Henry's lips against his own, tries apologising again, gasping for air, screws up his face in anxiety or anger for his recklessness......

Then Henry makes his own decision and speeds back over to him, pulling him into an even more crushing embrace and kiss, before they make their way over to the bed

The acting direction here in this scene is just so delectablely real . It looks and feels like I'm a fly on the wall of a real life confession, where both men are less than certain about their futures, and even less certain about how their relationship is perceived in the others eyes. Hans is visibly scared of rejection when Henry turns his back, Henry is visibly coming to terms with what he wants in this moment

The reactions are the most natural thing in the world, especially in a game that strives for realism. There was clearly a great deal of care that went into writing and directing this relationship, and with how naturally it progressed to this climax

And I think that's where the divide is for me, when I think about the romance options in BG3 or other rpgs, because there is something more flowery and shiny about those romances that I've experienced. Like they're too perfect, too polished and rehearsed, no room to have any fuck ups or moments of imperfection. But it's the awkwardness and show of non-positive emotions and reactions, rather than immediate lust and experience, that really pins the Henry and Hans scene above the rest

There's probably more I could say, and I'm sure there's more that others who know these characters and the games could say, but I just wanted to get my thoughts into some words and hope that it strikes true with someone else

I don't think I've ever seen a romance scene in a video game, that has felt so genuine as this. A thousand kudos to the actors for Hans and Henry, and the writers and directors for this marvellously curated scene ❤️

[blakeswritingimagines]

Kink List With Nico Hischier

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He enjoys a calm and intimate aftercare session with you after a romantic night together. He takes time to care for and pamper you, and ensure you feel relaxed and safe. He may give gentle kisses on your head or hold you in his arms while you rest. He wants to be a source of comfort and reassurance after a passionate encounter.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves his strong legs and the way they move on the ice. He also appreciates the way your arms wrap around his shoulders or the way your hair feels between his fingers. He loves the way your body curves into his whenever you are close.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Inner thighs - Tenderly marking this sensitive spot can heighten intimacy without being too overwhelming. Or inside of you as to cause can heighten intimacy without being too overwhelming.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Despite his well-liked reputation, he has his own secret pleasure. While you might see him as a respectable individual, he's actually quite kinky and has a darker side. He loves to take control and be praised, and he loves it when you submit to him. He enjoys giving you a spanking or a choke to add to the intensity between you two.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He has experience, but he always seems to be eager to learn new things and make sure that you are satisfied with the experience. He's confident in what he's doing and knows how to make the most of the time he has with you. He loves to explore and try new ideas, and he's always excited to see how you react and respond.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

While he likes experimenting with all sorts of positions, he tends to prefer being on top. It gives him the control he enjoys, and he likes to watch you squirm and lose control. He enjoys seeing your body respond to his touch and the way your eyes are fixed on him. You make an amazing sight when you're pinned beneath him and completely under his control. You can see the intensity in his eyes as he leans in to kiss you and you feel his breath on your skin.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He loves to joke and make you laugh, but he can get really serious when the situation calls for it. He's not afraid to make a smartass comment or tease you a bit, even when you're being intimate. He has a playful side that he enjoys showing you, but he can turn it on and off when necessary.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He takes good care of his body and he's very well groomed. The carpet does match the drapes, and it's always soft and smooth to the touch. He enjoys pampering himself and he spends a lot of time taking care of his appearance, so you never have to worry about anything being out of place.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

During intimacy, he tends to be very romantic and attentive. He's always focused on you and making sure that you feel comfortable and good. He pays attention to your body and listens to what you like and dislike, and he makes a point of taking his time and making sure you enjoy every moment.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He usually takes care of himself a few times a week. He likes to keep himself well-rested and relaxed, especially after a long day or a tiring practice session. When he does, he'll typically take a nice, long shower or a bath to help himself unwind and relax, and he loves to think about you. He imagines himself being close to you and touching you, and the thought of that alone makes him even more relaxed and aroused.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He has a bit of a possessive streak when it comes to you. He likes to feel like he owns you in the bedroom, and he loves to take control and be in charge. He has a bit of a praise kink, and he loves to hear you tell him how good he is and how good he's making you feel. He also likes to be a little bit rough and intense, and he enjoys it when you are willing to be playful and submissive for him. He also has a thing for biting, and he occasionally likes to nibble on you during intimate moments to drive you crazy with desire.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

He likes somewhere comfortable and private. He doesn't like doing anything outdoors, and he prefers to have privacy and safety. He likes his bed a lot, as well as the shower or a couch. He's not picky about the location as long as he can have you all to himself.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

He loves to see you in a state of ecstasy and he gets off from knowing that he's the one who made you feel that way. He also loves the feeling of connection and intimacy between the two of you, and he gets aroused from being close to you and being the one you're giving yourself to.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He wouldn't do anything that makes him uncomfortable or feel unsafe. He also doesn't like being told what to do. He's not into anything that he knows will hurt you or make you upset, and he won't do something just because he knows you want him to. He's respectful of your boundaries, and he'll never do anything that crosses the line.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He loves giving more than receiving. He likes the feeling of pleasing you and making you lose control. He's skilled and has a talented tongue that knows just where to go. He loves hearing you lose control and moan, and knowing that he's the one who brought you to that point.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He takes his time and goes slow at first, savoring every moment and making sure you're enjoying it. He can get faster and rougher if you want him to, but he's also happy to go slow and take his time. He likes to savor every moment with you, and he wants to make sure you feel comfortable and good. He's always attentive to your body and your reactions, and he'll go as fast or as slow as you want.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He doesn't mind quickies every now and then, but he prefers to take his time when he's with you. He loves to be close to you and to feel every inch of your body, and he doesn't want to rush it. He feels like it's more meaningful and more intimate when he takes his time with you. But sometimes, when you're both busy or too tired, he'll be happy to help you out quickly.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He's not afraid to take risks and experiment. He's always willing to try new things and push the boundaries, and he's open to exploring new ways to make each encounter even more intense and exciting. He won't hesitate to try new positions or try different things, as long as it makes the experience more enjoyable for both of you. He also enjoys the thrill of doing things in risky places, like in the car or a public place.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He can go for a long time, and he's not easily tired. He has a lot of stamina and endurance, and he can go for as long as you want. He'll take breaks to rest if necessary, but he doesn't need much rest to be ready again. He loves to keep going until you're completely satisfied and exhausted.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He likes to use toys, and he's open to using them on you. He has a few that he enjoys, and he's always willing to experiment with them, as long as you're comfortable with it. One of his favorite toys is a vibrator, as it's very effective in making you feel good and bringing you to the edge of pleasure. He also gets off on seeing you experience so much pleasure.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He loves to tease you. He loves to build up anticipation and make you want him even more. He knows exactly what he wants to do to you, and he loves to draw it out and make you feel frustrated and desperate. He loves seeing you squirm and moan, and he loves the way you look when you finally give in and beg for more.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He's not loud when you're in public. He's respectful of other people and doesn't want to cause a scene. In private, he's much louder. He doesn't hold back his moans and gasps, and you can hear every single sound he makes. He has a low, deep voice, and his breathless gasps turn you on even more. You can hear every whimper and moan as you pleasure him, and you can hear his soft sighs and whispers in your ear.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He has a secret stash of naughty literature where he likes to read in his off time. It's always a mystery what kind of books he's reading when he's alone, but one thing is certain - they always leave him feeling a bit more aroused than usual.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

His cock is long, hard and thick. The head is slightly rounded with a hint of vein running along the length, and the shaft is muscular and firm. He always keeps it well-groomed, trimmed neatly but not too short.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He's constantly yearning for you. He feels a deep need to be close to you, to hold you in his arms, and to feel your body close to his. He misses you even when you're in the same room. He can't stop thinking about how you feel and how you look, and he always wants more. It's not just sexual, it's more than that. He yearns for your presence, your touch, and your love. It's all consuming.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He can fall asleep very quickly, sometimes even while he's still catching his breath. He'll wrap his arms around you and snuggle into your chest, with his face buried in your neck. He'll hold you close to him, like he doesn't want to let go ever. The sound of your heartbeat and the comfort of having you close is enough to make him drift off instantly.

[joloml]

hiii! could you make an imagine about maki getting jelous and confessing please? thank you so much ♥

MOMENTS OF SILENCE

maki &team jealousy confession

pairing jealousmaki!&team x reader

warnings smooching and like two swear words towards the end

notes wow my first imagine guys i’m growing up so fast🥹🥹all jokes aside tho im actually really nervous to publish this so if it sucks i am so sorry

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

growing up next door to maki, you guys were known as the duo. you both were inseparable—you did everything together.

when maki decided he wanted to become an idol, you were the most supportive out of everyone. you stuck by his side through the whole process, and it only made your friendship grow even more.

when he was officially in &team and they had their debut, you were always the first to know everything that was going on — even the things that weren’t supposed to be out to the public yet.

now, a few years after their debut, you not only became friends with his members, but they see you as family as well.

your friendship with maki has also grown, but so have your feelings for him. you can’t help but notice how well maki has been aging. his features are striking — everything about him is attractive.

also, after you stopped getting taller and settled on a height, he just seems to keep growing. he towers over you, which you can’t help but find it undeniably hot when he has to look/lean down to talk to you.

on the other hand, you had a massive glow up too. learning how to take care of your skin, hair, and upping your style, maki can’t deny finding you to be the most beautiful girl he’s seen.

you don’t know that though. both of your feelings for each other has always gone unspoken for. the lingering touches and the admiring glances between you two had always been brushed off, neither of you wanting to confess.

you had always been touchy with each other, never making it weird. that’s why, as you’re sitting abnormally close to maki — practically laying on him — none of his members find it unusual. he has one arm wrapped casually around your waist, trapping you in his hold. you scroll through your phone, watching tiktoks until harua makes his way towards you guys.

you look up, giving him a smile. you feel maki tighten his hold around you as harua places himself next to you on the couch.

“hey y/n, i found some new ideas for our handshake,” harua says. “since we can’t seem to settle on a good one.”

maki tenses up at the mention of a handshake. thats always been your guys’ thing. and as much as he hates to admit it, the thought of you having a handshake with someone else made him incredibly jealous.

“alright, show me what you came up with,” you smile. you try to shift to the side to get a better view, but maki’s tight grip around you makes you unable to move. “maki, could you loosen up a bit? i can’t move.”

“sorry,” he mutters, not tearing his eyes away from the phone in his hand. he lets go of you ever so slightly, just barely allowing you to turn your body.

you furrow your brows, confused as to why he seems annoyed. you just decide to brush it off, and refocus on harua.

harua shows you his ideas, some of them more complex than the others. after a few minutes of trying to master the complex ones, you eventually decide to settle on the easier movements.

maki watches you both out of the corner of his eye, wishing that it was him making you laugh like harua is.

and not to mention the way your hands are all over each other (peep the hand in handshake), he doesn’t want anyone else touching you other than himself.

he loves but hates the way that his members care for you so much. he misses the times when it was a little awkward between everyone, so he had your full attention all the time.

now, he only gets to talk to you a minimal amount when you’re in the studio with him because his members are always wanting to hang out with you.

your loud laugh snaps him out of his trance, and he sees you grab harua’s arm from laughing so hard.

he looks away, not wanting to get more annoyed. he notices that his jealousy level has been unusually high today, making him quieter than normal.

you also caught onto his quietness earlier in the day, and you just assumed he was having a rough morning.

you had no idea that he was pissed because you were giving other people more attention.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧

after messing around with harua for another hour or so, everyone completed their daily duties, and decided to head out.

you wait for maki patiently by the door as you bundle up in your coat, preparing yourself to walk home in the cold weather.

after a minute, maki finds you by the door and he holds it open for you, allowing you to walk outside. you’re both silent, as maki’s jealously level hasn’t fallen since the handshake incident.

the tension in the air is too noticeable, and you glance at him as you both make your way down the snowy sidewalk.

“are you okay?” you finally speak up, clouds of smoke coming out of your mouth from how cold the air is.

he only nods.

you stay quiet for a minute, not knowing what to say.

“…did i do something?” you ask, your voice quiet.

“do you like harua?” he blurts out after a moment of silence.

“of course i like harua,” you respond, your voice laced with confusion. “why wouldn’t i?”

“no, not like that,” he shakes his head, keeping his gaze ahead of him. “i mean, do you like-like him.”

“oh- oh. no, maki,” you laugh, but immediately stop when you see that he doesn’t find this amusing. “i love harua, only as a friend. why are you asking?”

another moment of silence.

“you guys just seem.. close. that’s all,” he says, glancing at you for the first time since you left the studio. the glance is piercing, his eyes dark and features slightly tightened. his jaw is clenched, and he keeps his hands in his pockets.

reverting his eyes back to the gloomy and misty sidewalk in front of him, you shiver.

but not from the cold.

“are you jealous or something?” you slightly smile, still wondering why he would be questioning this.

when he doesn’t respond, you start laughing.

“oh my gosh, you are jealous!” you teasingly laugh. “maki, you’re literally my closest friend out of everyone i know. i don’t know why you think that i like harua more than you—“

“that’s not why i’m jealous,” he cuts you off, stopping in his tracks. you stop too, and you both turn to face each other.

“then why are you?”

he lets out a huff, looking everywhere but at you.

“because i like you, okay?”

silence overcomes the two of you again, for the hundredth time today.

“oh.” you’re not sure what to say.

“gosh, i’ve just—“ he pauses, looking around and running a stressed hand through his hair. “i began to like you ever since i told you i wanted to become an idol. you were so supportive of me, i just felt like you were the only person who truly cared for me.”

you reach your hand up in the middle of his speech, and run your fingers through his hair to brush the snowflakes out of it.

“i’ve been too scared to tell you, but seeing you all close with the other members just made me realize that i like having your attention maybe a little too much, and— can you stop that?” he swats at your hand that’s still brushing the snowflakes out.

you pull your hand away, “sorry. continue.”

but instead of continuing, he just stares at you.

silently.

the silence kills him.

“fuck it.”

he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you into him, crashing your lips together. your eyes widen in shock for a moment before they flutter shut as you melt into his touch.

maki lets go of your neck and moves his hands to wrap around your waist, not once breaking the kiss. you place a hand on his chest, and you let the other gently grab his jaw.

you can feel your heart pounding against your chest as the kiss deepens. his lips feel unbelievably soft, and the unusual warmth between the two of you — given that it’s barely even 20° — makes you never want to let go of each other.

you eventually have to though.

as you slowly pull apart, you rest your forehead against his, still holding onto his jaw. maki lets out a sigh of relief that he didn’t know he was holding.

“so…” you pull your head away from him, reluctantly letting go of his jaw.

“don’t even say anything,” he says, and as you pull away, you get a clear view of how flustered he is.

“alright, i won’t,” you shrug, feeling how red your cheeks are too.

you grab his hand, and resume your walk back home in a comfortable silence.

[valkyriexo]

When You Start Getting Distant Because You’re in a Relationship | Hyung Line

ᑉ³pairing; Friend! OT8 x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Headcannon, angst

ᑉ³warnings; none I think!

ᑉ³authors note; I hope you enjoy <3

╰┈➤ Chan

Tries to be the mature one, but it kills him inside. He tells himself that as long as you’re happy, he should be happy too…but it doesn’t stop the ache in his chest every time you pull away.

Overthinks everything. Did he say something wrong? Did he do something to make you uncomfortable? He replays every conversation in his head, searching for a reason why you’re slipping away.

Still checks up on you, even when you don’t respond right away. Sends casual “Hope you’re doing okay” texts or reminds you to eat and rest..because no matter how much it hurts, he can’t stop caring about you.

Pretends to be fine around the others, but they can tell. He still smiles, still jokes around, but his energy is off. The sparkle in his eyes when he talks about you? Gone.

Tries to convince himself that he’s just your friend…but jealousy betrays him. Seeing you with someone else makes his stomach twist in ways he hates. He laughs it off, but deep down, he’s unraveling.

"Right. I get it." His voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it, something almost bitter. You’ve known him long enough to recognize when he’s holding back.

"You’re happy with them, huh?" He lets out a dry chuckle, running a hand through his hair. "That’s good. That’s… that’s what I wanted for you."

You open your mouth to respond, but he exhales sharply, shaking his head.

"No, actually….screw that." He suddenly looks at you, and for the first time, you see it. The frustration. The heartbreak. The feelings he’s been shoving down for who knows how long.

"I hate this," he admits, voice quieter now. "I hate watching you slip away because of some guy...do you even realize how much I care about you?"

He lets out a soft, bitter laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I thought we had something. And maybe that was just me being stupid, maybe I was reading too much into things—but I…" He stops himself, lips pressing into a thin line.

Then, barely above a whisper—

"I was supposed to be the one making you smile like that."

╰┈➤ Minho

Acts like he doesn’t care…but he definitely cares. At first, he just observes, waiting to see if you’ll come back on your own. But when you keep pulling away, he starts getting annoyed.

Gets passive-aggressive. His usual teasing turns sharper. If you cancel plans, he just shrugs and says, “Figured you’d be too busy anyway.”

Refuses to ask what’s wrong. He’s stubborn. If you want to push him away, fine. He won’t beg for your attention—but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

His eyes always give him away. Even when he plays it cool, you can see the way his gaze lingers, the way his expression darkens whenever your S/O is mentioned.

Starts distancing himself before you can fully leave him behind. If you don’t need him anymore, then maybe it’s easier if he’s the one to walk away first.

Finally snaps when he catches you avoiding him. If you won’t give him an explanation, he’ll demand one.

"So, am I just not important to you anymore?" The words hit you like a slap, and when you turn to face him, he is standing there,arms crossed, face blank, but eyes burning.

"Because that’s what it feels like," he continues, voice quieter but laced with frustration. "One second, we’re fine. And then suddenly, you’re too busy, too distant....too… gone."

You stammer, trying to explain, but he lets out a sharp laugh, shaking his head.

"Yeah, whatever. You’ve got someone better now, right?"

His tone is mocking, but there’s a crack in it...just enough to betray him. Just enough to show that this isn’t just annoyance.

It’s hurt.

He turns to leave, but then

He stops. His fists clench at his sides. He doesn’t face you when he speaks next, voice barely above a whisper.

"I liked you first."

Your breath catches.

"You know that, right?" he finally looks at you, expression unreadable but eyes raw with emotion. "I’ve liked you for so long, but I waited. I waited because I thought… I thought maybe you’d see me, too."

A pause. A breath. Then—

"And now, I have to sit here and watch someone else have you?"

His voice is tight, controlled, but the pain is there. He takes a step back, shaking his head, his usual confidence gone.

"Forget it."

╰┈➤ Changbin

At first, he doesn’t take it seriously. He jokes around, playfully whining about how you’re ditching him for your “new best friend.” But when he realizes it’s not a phase, his smile starts feeling forced.

Keeps trying to reach out. Sends you funny memes, random gym updates, or voice notes just to see if you’ll respond like you used to. When you don’t? Yeah, it stings.

Overcompensates by acting louder and happier around others. He hates feeling like the sad, jealous guy, so he pretends it doesn’t bother him. But his jokes get a little sharper, his laughs a little less genuine.

Starts working out even more. If he can’t control the way you’re slipping away, at least he can control something. He pushes himself harder at the gym, but no amount of training can distract him from missing you.

Gets mad at himself for feeling jealous. He tells himself he should just be happy for you...but the thought of someone else being the reason for your smile makes his stomach churn.

"Are you serious right now?"

His voice is sharp, frustrated.

"I get it, okay? You have someone new in your life. That’s great. But does that mean I just—what? Stop existing?"

You open your mouth to explain, but he doesn’t let you.

"Do you know how stupid I’ve felt? Sitting here, waiting for you to text back, waiting for you to just—acknowledge me?" He lets out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. "I’ve never had to fight this hard just to talk to you." He sighs.

"And I hate that I’m jealous." The words come out softer, but they hit harder. His jaw clenches, and for once, Changbin looks uncertain.

"I hate that I care this much. That every time you talk about them, I feel like I’m losing you a little more." He swallows hard, eyes meeting to yours.

"I wanted to be the one you looked at like that." He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.

"Forget it. Just… just tell me one thing.." his voice wavers, but he keeps going, "Did I ever even have a chance?"

╰┈➤ Hyunjin

At first, he pretends it doesn’t bother him. He convinces himself you’re just busy and that things will go back to normal soon. But as days turn into weeks, the distance between you feels crushing.

Becomes unusually quiet around you. He still smiles, still laughs, but there’s a hesitation now. A pause before he speaks, like he’s choosing his words carefully...afraid of saying something he can’t take back.

Starts expressing his emotions through art instead. If you won’t talk to him, his sketchbook becomes his outlet. Page after page filled with drawings of you, his way of holding on when he feels like he’s losing you.

Acts like he’s fine, but his eyes give him away. Whenever you mention your S/O, his eyes tell you everything you need to know....sadness, frustration, something he doesn’t want you to see.

Becomes distant, too—but not because he wants to. If you don’t need him anymore, maybe it’s better if he stops clinging. But every time he tries to walk away, he finds himself waiting. Hoping.

"Just tell me what I did wrong."

His voice is quiet but firm, and when you finally look at him, Hyunjin’s expression is unreadable...except for his eyes. His eyes are full of everything.

"Because I don’t get it," he continues, laughing bitterly. "We were fine, and then suddenly, you’re too busy, like I don’t even exist to you anymore."

You shift uncomfortably, but he steps closer, shaking his head.

"You don’t even look at me the same."

His voice wavers, and for the first time, you see it..The vulnerability, the pain he’s been trying so hard to hide.

"I should be happy for you," he admits, exhaling shakily. "I tried to be happy for you." He lets out a dry chuckle, running a hand through his hair. "But every time I see you with them, I just—"

He stops himself, his lips pressing into a thin line. His fingers twitch at his sides like he wants to reach for you, but he doesn’t. Instead, he lets out a slow breath, taking a step back.

"I guess that was never an option, was it?"

ઇଓ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support ♡ | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like ♡ | © 2024 Valkyriexo 

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[skzdust]

I Want You To Want For Me

SMUT. MINORS DNI.

To the person who inspired this: basically it wasn't even my decision to write this, since you brought it up in the first place. <3

Had a ton of fun writing this one though, hope you all enjoy!

Title from "PUPPET" by Tyler, The Creator.

Summary: You and Minho have been waiting for a day you can be his all day, and it's finally here.

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader

Includes: free use, oral sex m receiving, face fucking, fingering, light somno, praise, degradation, scratching/marks

Word count: 1.7k

Taglist (Comment on a post/send an ask if you'd like to be added): @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345, @katsukis1wife,

@hyunjinsjeans, @somethingkindazainy, @silverstarburst, @atzlordz,

Network:@mirohs-aurora-society

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!

Masterlist

-----

You woke up to a hand between your thighs.

You moaned softly, arching back into your boyfriend and resting your head on his shoulder. “Morning, Minho.”

“Good morning, beautiful.” He murmured, and you took a breath as he focused his attentions on your clit. “You remember what today is?”

“Yeah.” You sighed happily. “I’ve been looking forward to it.”

“Good girl.” His finger moved faster. “Want you to come for the first time today like this.”

“That’s not going to take long.” You were still half-asleep, but Minho felt so good, and as his other hand moved down to circle your entrance, you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to your release.

“Minho, Minho, Min—oh!” You came, shuddering through your orgasm. Minho let up once your legs started twitching.

“Okay, I’ll let you get ready for the day.” He placed a kiss to your temple, and you could feel the smile on his lips. “Wear something cute for me.”

“Yeah, I will.” You got out of bed, grateful your legs weren’t shaking just yet.

You went through the steps of your morning routine and chose an outfit you knew Minho would like, with a low-cut top and a short skirt. You stepped out of the bathroom, and Minho hummed appreciatively from where he still lay in bed. “You look amazing, baby.”

You did a little twirl for him, your skirt floating up to reveal just a tease of the lace underneath. “Thank you. Thought you might like it.”

“I do.”

“So, what did you want to do today?”

“Oh, just relax. Didn’t have anything in mind.”

“Mhm.” You nodded. “Nothing in mind, huh?”

“Nothing in particular.” Minho’s grin was sly. “What do you want to do today?”

“I was thinking playing some video games would be nice, and I want to order food, not feeling like cooking, but that’s about it.” You shrugged.

You could practically see the cogs turning in his head. “I can work with that.”

You laughed, walking out of the room. “I’m going to have some cereal, and then I’ll probably boot up the PC.”

—

You’d been sitting at your computer for a while now. You noticed when Minho walked in, but you just hummed in his direction, too absorbed in your game to acknowledge him beyond that. At least, until he leaned over your keyboard and pressed the escape key.

“Minho!” You protested, looking at him. “I was—”

“You were what?” Minho smiled innocently, his eyes wide. “As I understand it, you’re mine for today, which means I call the shots, got it? And I want you to suck me off.”

“Can I at least finish—”

“Are you going to listen, or am I gonna have to fuck that attitude out of you?” Minho’s expression shifted.

A wave of heat ran through you. “No, I can listen.”

“Good. Stand up.”

You got up, and he took your place in your chair. You knew what was expected of you at this point as you fell to your knees in front of him.

“Yeah, that’s a good girl.” He mumbled, pushing his sweatpants down.

You were on him before he had to tell you anything, wrapping your mouth around the tip and pushing yourself down onto him.

“Fuck.” He moaned, putting a hand on the back of your head to steady himself. “Fuck, babe, you feel so fucking good. Keep going.”

You kept going, pulling back occasionally to press kisses and lick along his length. “Tastes so good, sir.”

“You like my cock that much, prove it.”

You looked up at him with wide eyes. “Prove it? Am I not doing that enough right now?”

“I want you to choke on it, I want you to gag. Get all of me in your mouth, can you do that?”

“Yes.” You took a deep breath, then you began to take him into your mouth, gagging a bit when he hit the back of your throat. You steeled yourself to get the final bit of Minho’s cock into your mouth, and you knew from his deep, loud groan that you’d succeeded.

“Fuck. You feel so fucking good.” He said, shallowly beginning to thrust in and out. You coughed around him, feeling so full but not full enough, not where you needed it. You were so aroused, you could feel yourself growing wet. You knew Minho probably wouldn’t pay any more attention to your pleasure until he came, not because he didn’t care, but because he wanted to teach you a lesson.

You tried your best to keep yourself steady, pulling back to gasp in a breath every so often before going right back to his cock.

“Good.” He all but growled. “Good sluts know to just shut up and take it.”

You moaned loudly at that. You liked being Minho’s good slut, you wanted nothing more.

You closed your eyes as he began to use you in earnest, fucking your face at a shameless pace. You choked around him, doing your best to keep your bearings in the dizziness the whole thing was bringing upon you.

Eventually, though, his hand tightened in your hair, and he let out a long moan as he came in your mouth. “Don’t— don’t swallow.” He panted.

You didn’t, sitting there with his cum on your tongue, looking up at him patiently.

“Such a good girl.” He let go of your head. “You can swallow now.”

You swallowed, taking a deep breath once you could open your mouth again. “Jesus, Minho, that was… that was good.”

He laughed. “Good, I’m glad you had fun. You can get back to your game now.”

“But—”

“You should get back to your game.” He said firmly, getting his pants zipped and standing.

“Yes, sir.” You sighed.

“Don’t worry, you know I’m not done with you for today.”

You smiled as you got back in your chair.

—

“You want to get food?” Minho walked into the room, holding his phone. “I was thinking that one Chinese place you like.”

You looked up. “That sounds great!”

He sat down beside you. He kept the delivery app up in one hand, but the other came to rest on your thigh. You smiled at it, and then smiled wider as it began to make its way further and further up.

He selected a few things and handed you the phone. “Here, pick whatever you want.”

You scrolled through the menu, and hissed in a breath when he began to rub two fingers right where your thigh met your torso. Your eyes almost fluttered at the sensation. “Minho…”

“What?” He said innocently. “Finish your order.”

You selected a couple dishes and submitted the order. Minho had started to creep closer and closer to your entrance, and it was as you were handing his phone back to him that he pushed one fingertip inside. You squeaked, nearly dropping it.

“Careful, babe.” He laughed softly, taking it and setting it to the side. “We’re going to see how many times you can come before the food gets here.”

You whined. “Yes, Minho.”

He pushed two fingers inside you, and your head dropped back with a loud moan.

“Fuck, you sound so pretty.” He whispered. “How do I get you to make that sound again… I mean, I have some ideas. Wanna test them?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, your head still leaning back on the couch cushions.

He curled his fingers up, and you whimpered.

“Close, but not quite.” Minho murmured. “We should keep going.” He pulled his fingers all the way out, and then pushed them back in, three this time. He began fucking you, setting a punishing pace that had you clenching down around his fingers.

“Minho…”

“That feel good?” He said. “Doesn’t it feel nice to be so full?”

You nodded, humming your agreement, although it came out much closer to a whimper than a hum.

“That’s a good little slut.”

You whined. It was always hot when Minho got sick of the praise and decided to start being mean.

“You like that?”

“Be meaner to me, please.”

He snickered. “I can do that. You’re so desperate, aren’t you? Needy little thing. You just want to come, isn’t that right?”

You nodded quickly. “Yes, wanna come.”

“Luckily for you, I’d like to see that.” His voice was like a fine whiskey, smooth, but made you burn to the very core. “You’re just a toy, just for me, so you’re going to do exactly what I want, isn’t that right?”

“Yes.” You shifted as he found a new angle, pushing even deeper inside of you. “Yes, God, Minho, harder.”

“Such a whore.” He pulled his fingers out so he could drag you down on the couch, prompting a whine from you as his fingers coated with your own wetness met your thigh. He started fucking you again with them, the new angle allowing him a ferocity that had been contained before. Strands of his hair fell down around his face as he fucked you, his eyes raking up and down your body. Their weight made it feel like there were almost scratch marks in their wake, and you wished he’d do that to you next: scrape and mark up your body until every inch of you belonged to him.

“There something you want?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Just was thinking it’d be nice to have some marks.”

“Oh, is this not enough for you?” He punctuated with a particularly hard thrust that had you seeing stars. “You want me to mark you up, too?”

“Mhm.” You nodded.

“Greedy slut.” He sighed. “You always want more, don’t you?” With the hand not currently wrecking your hole, he scraped lightly down your side.

“Harder, please?”

“Jesus.” You could hear the eye roll, but he obliged, digging scratches into you.

Your mouth fell open from the sensations. “Fuck, Minho!”

“Too hard?” He smirked.

“No, it was just— God, I’m going to come.”

“Tell me when you’re close.”

“I’m close, don’t stop, Minho, please don’t— fuck!”

Minho’s nails dug into your side as you came, the pain making it even more delicious as you lost yourself in the pleasure.

You opened your eyes, and Minho was smiling at you. “Good?”

“Yeah, fuck, that was so good.” You threw an arm over your eyes. “Fuck.”

“Well, our food isn’t here yet, so we’re just going to have to keep going, aren’t we?” Minho’s eyes were big with false sympathy.

“Oh, no, I think we are.” You nodded. “How horrible.”

“Horrible indeed.” He agreed before starting to moving his fingers again.

[crimsoncowboyy]

John and Arthur’s Established Dynamics With Dutch And How This Impacts Redemption: An Analysis

What makes Dutch Van Der Linde such a compelling antagonist is his extreme narcissism, both covert and apparent. Red Dead Redemption 2 is particularly keen on showcasing this, as players get to experience Dutch’s charisma and mental decline through the eyes of Arthur Morgan, who loves Dutch dearly. On the contrary, Red Dead Redemption 1 displays John Marston grappling with the order to eradicate his former gang members, including Dutch. Through John’s perspective, players get to understand the complexities that come with having to confront a path that has both benefited and destroyed you. Yet, both protagonists serve the same purpose: the complex relationship one may have with a narcissistic “parent” figure. While both John and Arthur appear to have conflicting personalities with one another, they find a common understanding with one another through their sibling-like bond that has arisen from both being raised by Dutch.

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Arthur was only fourteen when he was taken in by Dutch. After a childhood filled with death, brutality, abuse, and homelessness, Dutch was able to swoop in, take Arthur off the streets, and give him a sense of security. This meant everything to Arthur, and with Dutch, Arthur was able to finally have a stable, present, and attentive father figure in his life. However, what Arthur consistently struggled to pick up on was Dutch’s true intentions, which were not as loving and fatherly as Dutch wanted them to seem. By recognizing Arthur’s underlying anger and need for validation, Dutch was able to condition Arthur into being the perfect bodyguard: violent, strong, and eager to do the job right.

Arthur is heavily reliant on Dutch to the point that he sacrifices self-autonomy for Dutch’s sake. The storyline with Mary Linton is a prime example of this. In actuality, Arthur could have chosen to protect himself and run away with his former lover, but Arthur’s entire life has been centered around Dutch’s gang. When Mary says that there is a good man inside of him wrestling with a “giant,” there is a reason why she does not claim that this “giant” is evil or inherently bad; it is only larger than Arthur is. This internal struggle centered around remaining loyal to himself or to the people he calls his family is central to Arthur’s redemption arc, especially through the use of the honor system. Both low and high honor result from a series of cations that allow Arthur to redeem himself, but high honor means that Arthur’s time concludes with the acceptance that he was able to fight for what felt true to himself, while low honor is Arthur getting killed fighting against the very thing that caused the gang’s destruction.

Either way, Arthur redeems himself by fully embracing the notion that Dutch is a flawed and selfish individual who has proven his own safety to appear more vital than protecting the gang as a whole. Yet, it takes the duration of Red Dead Redemption 2 for this truth to be fully embraced by Arthur, who continues to base his actions and existence around pleasing Dutch. Getting called “son” or “my boy” by the man Arthur has been conditioned to rely on is what pushes Arthur to continuously combat his own moral code. Additionally, Arthur cannot fathom the idea of being disappointing to Dutch in any sort of way, even if it causes him to abandon his own sense of right or wrong. By beating up Thomas Downes despite feeling wrong about it, Arthur contracts tuberculosis and is forced to run on dwindling time as a result of his vile actions. Yet, this extreme realization that self-betrayal is equally as harmful as rejecting the expectations of somebody you love is what ultimately catalyzes Arthur’s journey of change.

Arthur’s conflict with John also tells a lot about Arthur's life and for other people. When John turns his back on both Abigail and the gang as a whole, Arthur struggles to find the reason for this. Rather than recognizing the deep-rooted fear and self-doubt that John has been facing, especially when it comes to continuing to live for the gang, Arthur berates John because John is doing something Arthur himself has done and regretted: making the wrong choice when it comes to standing by a loved one. While Arthur chose to “love” the gang more than Mary and then had to endure the consequences for such a choice, John, who is both terrified of disappointing Abigail and conflicted about his changing perspective on the gang, is choosing to avoid both entirely and run away for an entire year. Upon John’s return, Arthur is furious that the gang, especially Dutch, is willing to welcome John back with open arms. This makes Arthur resent John for the choices John has made, but at the same time, have a deep-rooted jealousy over the fact that Dutch treated John well for being disloyal, while the expectation from Arthur is that he will never act in such a way, and thus, Arthur feels John is receiving blind loyalty from Dutch. However, Arthur is misunderstanding a much more complicated relationship dynamic.

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Like Arthur, John also has an underlying incapability of living apart from the gang. Despite his issues with Dutch, John will always have a complicated sense of reliance on Dutch whilst resenting the life John believes was given to him. However, while Arthur falls into the role of being Dutch’s “golden child,” being Dutch’s trusted right-hand man and gang enforcer, John gets a much more complicated role. John is Dutch’s scapegoat child who is heavily criticized and berated no matter how hard he may try to prove himself worthy; however, if John tries to reject Dutch following this treatment, Dutch knows how to masterfully reel John back in. For example, even though Dutch welcomed John back into the gang, it is something that gets used against John in his weaker moments for his guilt to corrupt him into obeying Dutch. Additionally, Dutch making John say “yes, Dutch” out loud is a way to force John into a position of submission and lower status in the instances where he dares to challenge Dutch. John tends to be much more direct when it comes to critiquing Dutch as opposed to Arthur’s display, which comes across as concerned rather than combative. Thus, John and Dutch kind of have this established dynamic where John acts as a defiant child whom Dutch must remind to be loyal and obedient, consistently forcing John to align with an outlaw lifestyle that he is contemplating the morality of.

John is more independent than Arthur in the sense that he is deciding who he wishes to be dependent on. Throughout both stories, it is evident that John resents authority figures, and this is where his childishness shines through. While Arthur will respect authority if Dutch tells him to or if Arthur feels that person is worthy of respect, while John is much more weary and combative from the start. This is simply part of his nature, and Dutch understands and fuels this so that John can serve him. However, Abigail offers a stark comparison to Dutch. While Dutch ultimately demands blind obedience, Abigail demands change in John because she wants John to be less afraid of himself. Abigail understands John’s internal struggle with power, loyalty, and abuse cycles, and she directly combats it. She is somebody who challenges John to do better, which is something he has lacked his entire life. In a world where he is expected to serve for the sake of others, Abigail pushes him to serve himself, which will ultimately allow John to serve her, too.

It could be argued that John’s sense of “redemption” is vastly different from Arthur’s. The very fact that John ran away for a year following Jack’s birth is very telling of the internal conflict eating him alive; John knows he cannot exist on his own, and he must now decide who to be loyal to. While in his heart, he wants to dedicate his life to Abigail and Jack, John does not know how to live a life independently from the world he was brought up in. John wants to be a good dad but never had a good father himself, and John wants to leave the gang, but this would isolate him from both Abigail and the only community he knows. This endless feeling of servitude is something John understands he cannot escape. In Red Dead Redemption 1, this sense of being used by others is crushing John, especially because the United States government has kidnapped John’s family and will only release them if John vows to kill former members of the now-disbanded gang. John wants to protect his family more than anything, but he still struggles with obliterating people from his past who once meant everything to him. As a result, John’s avoidance is displayed through his acceptance of impending death. Throughout both games, John acts in reckless, death-seeking manners, putting himself in high-risk situations where death is a possible reality, such as straight up walking to Bill Williamson, essentially setting himself up to be shot. Yet, to John, being rescued from death serves him as a sign that his purpose on this Earth has not yet been completed, and there is more work to be done for those he loves before death can finally greet him. Ultimately, this shapes John’s redemption arc; John has to keep pushing forward so that he does not die at the hands of the gang and, instead, can conclude his life protecting the people at the core of his heart, which is why his death at the hands of the government following John’s completion of taking down his former gang members is both tragic and beautiful.

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One other major element of Dutch’s manipulation is how he treats John and Arthur like they are too dumb to understand nuanced topics. Yet, this is far from the truth. While John and Arthur are not the most well-read or academically savvy, the two display a deep level of thoughtfulness and insight about the world around them. John is hyper-aware of both himself and the world around him, and he is even one of the first people who recognized something deeply troubling about Dutch’s increasingly erratic behavior. This allows John to read people and situations based on intention rather than bias or false judgment. Even in Mexico, when John is being manipulated by multiple people, he understands that the people he is involving himself with are untrustworthy, but since he has no other options, he must wearily follow through with the situations he gets put into. While John often appears highly pessimistic, this is just a portrayal of his awareness of the harsh realities of the world he exists in, and there are just menial means for him to express this. Even if he did, Dutch would likely berate him until John regretted speaking up in the first place. On the contrary, Arthur appears to be more sheltered than John is, likely because Arthur grew up knowing fewer people and crimes. Yet, Arthur has a much more artistic soul than he lets others see, taking a lot of time to analyze and sketch what he encounters in this world that he finds interesting. His journal displays introspective writing that highlights the faults of both himself and the world around him that he prefers to pretend do not exist, and Arthur gets along very well with people who are atypical thinkers or live alternative, authentic lifestyles. Yet, because neither John nor Arthur read philosophy or desire “high-society,” Dutch demeans the two into believing they are unintelligent and incapable of complexity. Thus, if either one questions what Dutch is doing, he knows that he has the power to make John and Arthur believe that they are too stupid to do so. Yet, John is much more combative to this perspective than Arthur is, and John frequently makes comments to Dutch that question his decisions. In these moments, Dutch feels the most challenged and resorts to harsh insults that directly call out a personal struggle either John or Arthur have, reestablishing that they must remain loyal to Dutch because otherwise they are “worthless.”

Red Dead Redemption is beautiful in many ways. The intricate world design, multitude of storylines, and raw portrayal of complex realities make for a story that is compelling, relatable, and thought-provoking. Yet, one aspect that I think sets the Red Dead Redemption franchise apart from other stories is its hopeful and honest representation of the struggle to find a meaningful conclusion for a life filled with violence, abuse, and uncertainty. Neither John nor Arthur displays a sense of dreading their mortality. Instead, death in Red Dead Redemption serves as a reminder that the future is never promised, so it is important to make the most of the present because what is happening now is the only inherent truth of life. For a multitude of years, Dutch prevented the acceptance of such a reality for John and Arthur, and Dutch sold the false truth that he is the only truth in either man’s life, and as their “God” and “father,” both must worship him above all else. Yet, as fate closes in more and more on both John and Arthur, the realization that Dutch is dangerous not only gets embraced, but it allows for the opportunity to spend the time both have left doing what feels right rather than remaining with what is familiar. While the past can never be altered and the reality of death cannot be evaded, there is a sense of power in the realization that life cannot be foreseen or controlled, and thus, one must live each day remaining loyal to oneself. You are the only thing guaranteed to be both born and ended with you, so why betray the very being that allows you to exist at all?

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