#high stakes gambling games | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

melanchoire · 10 days ago

Note

idk if you’re request are r still open but could you pleaseeeee right a squid game au with karina where’s she’s a vip whilst the reader is a player who happens to catch rina’s eyes and orders one of the guards to ‘kill’ her but the truth is she just wants them to injure you so she could pretty much buy you and offers them a generous offer and takes the reader with her home to fuck her ofc-

HEAD TO TOE, WE'RE G-O-L-D, GOLD ──── yu jimin.

── ( ⚜️ ) in a high–stakes arena where the rich play with lives, karina's unhinged affection for a clueless player spirals into a thrilling pursuit of power and possession, as she wages a clandestine war against the elite who want to control the game—determined to make she hers in a landscape where loyalty can be deadly.

pairing. soft dom!vip!karina x sub!player!fem reader

warning(s). dark themes (blood, blackmail, guns, manipulation, wounds.) smut (cunnilingus, fingering, pet names, praise.)

word count. 6,9k

on the remote, windswept island off the coast of korea, where the air felt thick with the salt of the ocean and layers of privilege, karina stared intently at the massive screen that flickers unrelentingly in front of her. it projected scenes of desperation and grim determination, a macabre theater of survival that the elite of society had come to revel in as they reclined within the plush confines of their exclusive lounge.

the other VIPs —a cadre of wealthy men each shrouded in opulence and armed with an ego the size of their fortunes— prattled away around her, their voices a cacophony of bravado and crude laughter. their animal masks glinted in the dim light, each an embodiment of their own stunted sophistication: the bear, the buffalo, the deer, the eagle, the lion, the owl and the panther. karina, with her sleek, glimmering snake mask, had long stopped trying to fit into their ill–fitted notion of power. they bestowed her with the title of “black mamba” — a name that clung to her like an aura, representing both seduction and danger.

indeed, karina was like the serpent after which she was named. she navigated through the male–dominated realm of wealth with a grace that was lethal. a CEO of multiple chain buildings, her empire spanned continents, erecting glass towers that pierced the skies. she delighted in the art of negotiations, mastering the calculated dance of give–and–take, luring her opponents close like prey in her velvet–lined trap before swallowing them whole. boredom had become her only true foe, and thus she found herself here, in this disturbing yet exhilarating environment, where life and death were mere odds in a high–stakes game.

the room pulsed with energy as the VIPs loudly deliberated on who among the 456 participants would prevail in the intricate, ruthless challenges laid out before them. they were gambles in a world fueled by adrenaline and greed. fingers flicked extravagantly as large sums of money were wagered, laughter erupting akin to applause for a theatrical performance. to them, these people were merely pawns, skittish players manipulated by the whims of chance.

karina sipped her wine, the rich bouquet swirling over her senses, but there was no warmth in the glass. she let the crystalline liquid glide over her tongue, savoring the taste, yet it paled in comparison to the sensations she was accustomed to in her world of opulence. her golden snake mask, adorned with shimmering jewels, reflected the flickering lights of the room, but it only accentuated the dark aura that surrounded her. the other VIPs, a proud gathering of men adorned in various animal masks, were discussing their latest ventures and betting strategies with animated enthusiasm, their laughter booming like thunder against the backdrop of muted dread that enveloped the game they were spectating.

karina leaned back against the plush leather chair, feeling the weight of their stares. she was the only woman present—an anomaly among this cadre of wealthy men whose fortunes were built on the backs of the common people. each one was a titan in his own right, possessing more money than they could spend in several lifetimes, yet as she surveyed the colorful men in their masks, she wondered about the hollowness that lay beneath their bravado. they were captains of strewn empires, quibbling over who could win this sadistic game, their dispositions fueled by overconfidence and unshakeable egos. she snorted softly at their amusement, a derisive smile curling her lips.

“who do you plan to bet on, black mamba?” a man clad in a golden lion mask leaned towards her, his voice oozing with faux camaraderie.

karina turned her head slightly, her gaze flicking to him with what might have been amusement, but instead might have been a deep–rooted contempt for the mundanity of their discussions. “i’ll pass on the pleasantries.” she said curtly, breaking her silence — a strike of intention as elegant as the flick of a serpent’s tongue.

“c’mon, karina. we didn't invite you here so you could just sit there with your butt on that couch.”

karina turned her gaze towards the massive screen, which projected the first horrifying game of the night. a collection of desperate players, their faces a tapestry of fear and determination, stood ready for the fight of their lives. they were fodder to the insatiable piggishness of the VIPs—a spectacle that turned the brutal struggle for survival into mere entertainment.

“your instincts are keen, lion.” she replied, her voice silky yet piercing, like a viper poised to strike. “but i tend to reserve my bets for those deserving of my admiration.”

the lion chuckled, prattling on about the odds and potential outcomes, but karina felt her attention drifting. she wasn’t interested in the banal exchanges of these men; they discussed their wealth like it was their greatest accomplishment, flaunting it like peacocks. she preferred the power she held; the way she commanded respect in every boardroom, every meeting, every deal. wealth was merely a tool for her, one that created empires, sculpted architectures that defined skylines, but sometimes left her yearning for something deeper.

as she analyzed the players on the screen, she noticed one in particular—a young woman with innocent features that contrasted sharply with the stark reality of her surroundings. the girl shifted nervously, glancing around at her fellow competitors, her wide eyes brimming with a blend of anxiety and determination. there was something captivating about her essence—an aura of naivety that made her somehow endearing. it felt like looking at a delicate flower amid a sea of thorns.

karina felt her heart flutter eerily, straying from her hardened exterior. the girl’s spirit spoke to her in a way few could, a spark of light threading through the darkness that surrounded the entire game. it would be easy to dismiss her as mere fodder—she was just another desperate soul seeking the elusive promise of freedom. yet here she was, glistening like a diamond hidden among the rubble, and as she carried out her calculations of survival, karina couldn’t help but feel drawn to the story she was weaving amidst this tapestry of despair.

the lion called for her attention again, trying to ensnare her in another round of gossip concerning their bets. but karina felt herself slipping further away from them, her focus honing in on the girl. her thoughts transformed into a meticulous analysis, breaking down the tension radiating from the competitors. they moved like a pack of wolves, filling the arena with their primal instincts. each one’s strategy revealed their desperate wish for survival, but none of that had meaning until you chose the right person to believe in.

“what am i doing?” she muttered softly under her breath, snapping her fingers.

one of the guards in his pinkish–red suit materialized at her side, his triangle mask glinting ominously in the low light. a calculating young man who had been handpicked among the elite soldiers to serve in this twisted charade. “yes, ma’am?” he replied, cheeks around the edge of his mask concealing the knowledge of death that lurked behind his crisp demeanor.

“i need you to do me a favor.” she said, her gaze unwavering, steely resolve underlying her words. the guard would obey; they all did. her wealth commanded loyalty, but it was her reputation that ensured it.

“bring me the details of the players.” she instructed, her tone sharp and unwavering. “and ensure that the ones who seem the most intriguing make their way to my corner.” the guard nodded, his expression unreadable beneath the mask, and swiftly vanished into the shadows of the lounge. “but i want you to put in some effort with someone in particular. and you better do a good job.”

“fiind out more about the girl in the competition. the one with a naive aura.” karina instructed, her tone sharp and demanding. intrigue ignited within her, fueled by a thrill she hadn’t felt in ages. “i want every detail—her background, her motivations, her weaknesses. i don’t want a single scrap of information overlooked.”

“oh, do tell me who has caught your eye.” the lion interrupted again, too enthralled by his own drunken bravado to notice the shift in her demeanor. “she looks like she’s just waiting to die.”

snarling inwardly, karina felt the sting of irritation clawing at her composure. “she looks like anyone who has something worth fighting for.” karina responded crisply, her voice sliding dangerously through the thick air, laced with reproach, “consider that next time you choose to gawk like a fool.”

several heads turned, intrigued by her sudden display of assertiveness. but she didn’t care about the flocking attention; she felt the familiar heat of a challenge flare up within her. several minutes passed before her thoughts were interrupted again—by the same guard who had been summoned earlier. cracking through her internal focus, he delivered, presenting a sleek tablet showcasing detailed analyses of each player, their backgrounds, and their potential weaknesses.

the guard nodded, committing her request to memory. as he moved back into the shadows of the room, karina returned her attention to the screen, her expression morphing from indifference to fierce concern. in the midst of blood-soaked chaos and merciless intent, there was this flawed creature, fighting for her life with a purpose she may not even fully comprehend. It invoked an emotion within karina—an empathic tug that ached like an old scar.

why did she care? amidst the avarice that suffocated her, a flicker of benevolence stirred restlessly. perhaps it was the girl’s resilience in this devil's game; perhaps it was simply an impulse to save someone beneath the weight of despair. for a moment, karina pondered the irony of her existence in this enclave of excess and power, a sentiment largely forgotten by these men as they laughed and teased, their masks disguising their insignificance in their perceived greatness.

would she risk her reputation, her wealth, to help the girl survive? her mouth curled again, this time in a contemplative smirk, a realization dawning on her—rescue could be a form of rebellion against all that she had come to loathe about this cruel game. in a world thriving on the indulgences of the wealthy, karina realized she might just have found a reason to play.

a voice broke her reverie, and she faced the men once more. “well, what’s it going to be, black mamba?” he boomed, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of potential profits hanging in the balance, oblivious to the stirrings within her heart.

“let’s see how this game unfolds.” she replied with a chilling smirk, her eyes betraying none of her internal turmoil, an intricate tapestry of wealth, boredom, and now—unwitting hope. As she settled into her seat, she could sense the adventure beginning, a plot still unwritten as the games played on.

karina turns to look at another guard. “and you, come here. i have a slightly more risky task for you. i hope you have fun…”

the scent of metal and fear hangs thick in the air as you awaken, the oppressive quiet of the giant room enveloping you like a shroud. the stark buzz of fluorescent lights hums overhead, illuminating a labyrinth of stacked bunk beds, some of which undulate with nervous bodies still cocooned in dreams. the ceiling is far above you, the dimly lit room stretching into shadows and uncertainty. bunk beds cascade down from the walls in chaotic rows, each occupied by a bewildered, anxious player. they glance at you, some with fear, others with a wild spark of determination. but none of their expressions give you solace. this is where you are: the squid game

you push yourself upright, blinking against the harsh light, your mind racing to stitch together the fragments of your recent past. the memory drifts into view like a haunting specter: it all began with a simple, stupid decision—a game of ddakji with the man in the suit. he had an air of disinterest, as if he watched your life dribble away like sand through an hourglass. winning felt easy, almost like a cruel joke; the slap that accompanied a loss had sent a wave of humiliation through you. but as he handed you his business card, you thought maybe, just maybe, this was a ticket out—out of your monotonous life as a cashier at a quaint cafe, a life spent earning pennies to help support your struggling parents. the card that promised a way out of your mundane existence led you here, to an unknown fate among 456 players wearing identical green uniforms. you had no idea that the card would lead you to this hell.

pushing those memories aside, you navigate the maze of players. your white sneakers touch the cold metal floor as you walk cautiously among the bunk beds. you try to consolidate your thoughts, recalling the night you were taken. the black van. the shouts. the fear that pulsed through your veins. you rub your arms, trying to shake off the cold creeping into your bones, when suddenly you bump into someone.

“i’m so sorry!” you exclaim, stepping back.

the girl before you towers over most, her deep–set eyes ringed with dark circles that speak of sleepless nights. kang saebyeok—her name rolls off the tongue like a haunting melody. you catch a glimpse of something in her gaze: a weariness that piqued your curiosity. but even in her state, she seems different, composed under the chaos surrounding you.

“it’s fine." she replies, her voice neutral yet tinged with a hint of something deeper.

amidst the suffocating expressions of panic, she stands tall, her dark eyes ringed with shadows that hint at sleepless nights and untold stories. she catches your gaze, an understanding passing between you — a connection sparked by shared dread.

“are you alright?” you ask hesitantly, your voice trembling against the silence.

as you share small talk, she reveals pieces of her past, vibrant yet dark. the tales of her childhood in north korea, the devastating epidemic that robbed her of family, the escape that still left her haunted. you listen intently, captivated, as she paints a grim picture of survival. but it isn’t just her battles that draw you in; it’s the faint glimmer of compassion that flickers in her eyes when she looks at you.

your paths diverge as you each retreat into your own thoughts. you sense an inexplicable bond forming between you, as if her pain resonates with your own deep yearning for freedom and escape. but your stories are different—intertwined by fate but separate in essence. you entered the game in hopes of helping your parents, to lift them out of the grasp of poverty, while she seeks a much larger goal: to find and rescue her mother, trapped in a nightmare of her own.

you feel the stark contrast of your lives: hers marked with survival against insurmountable odds, and yours a life filled with ordinary struggles. you weren’t a pickpocket or a defector; you were just a girl trying to help her family.

but you sense something in her, an empathy, as if your vulnerability reminds her of her younger brother, all dreams and innocence, much like you. it pulls you toward her, igniting a flicker of hope that there is someone here for you, and in this monstrous place, companionship becomes your refuge.

then the voice booms again, and you’re ushered towards the outdoor arena, the cold air biting at your skin. you can see a large, eerie doll looming at the far end—a haunting figure with oversized eyes painted in a way that could front a nightmare. it looks so innocent yet so deadly.

“welcome to your first game: red light, green light!” the announcer’s tone is devoid of any genuine warmth, slicing into your resolve.

a collective gasp ripples through the crowd. you glance sideways to see saebyeok’s expression: determination mixed with a flicker of fear. the giant doll, younghee, stands ominously at the other end of the field, its haunting eyes carefully tracking each player as they formulate their plans for survival.

“listen carefully.” saebyeok urges, leaning close to you. “when it’s green light, run. when it turns red, stop. but just before it calls red light, slow down for a moment. it’s all about timing.”

you glance to your left and see saebyeok, her posture tense yet alert. the moment the game begins, time seems to stretch. the doll’s voice booms out, “green light!” and adrenaline surges through your veins. you take off, feet pounding against the ground, the illusion of safety fueling your determination.

another shout. “red light!” you freeze mid–run, adrenaline turning to ice in an instant. you see players wobbling and stopping awkwardly around you, just trying to stay still. the tension in the air tingles across your skin. in the pit of your stomach, dread settles like stone.

you sprint forward, the fear of elimination driving your legs to move faster than ever before. a surge of adrenaline propels you closer to safety, but as your eyes dart from the doll to the finish line.

you remember saebyeok’s warning — you feel the momentum pushing you forward despite your mind screaming for you to stop. you lock your muscles, your breath catching as you freeze. but another sound pierces the tension; your heart sinks as you hear the vicious crack of a gunshot. agony blooms in your thigh, a needle of fire that overwhelms you, forcing a muffled cry from your lips.

you gasp, heart racing, as your body betrays you. you could scream—there’s a storm of panic within, mingling with blood pooling around your leg.

panic erupts around you, players rushing, some dropping to the ground, their hopes extinguished. you want to scream, to cry for help, but gihun, a fellow player crouched beside you, who previously placed his forearm across his mouth. “don’t move! stay still!”

every word he utters vibrates with urgency, a mix of fear and steely resolve. writh blood seeping from your wound, the world around you begins to fade as your strength wanes. darkness edges into your vision, but you fight to stay present, wanting nothing more than to push through — for saebyeok, for your family, for the chance to escape this hell.

“green light!” echoes the voice again, and saebyeok darts across the field, her eyes locked on you.

your vision blurs, but through that haze, you see saebyeok dashing toward you, defying the chaos, defying the rules. “hold on!” she shouts, voice fierce and full of urgency.

another player crouches by your side, his expression a mix of horror and determination. “don’t move… just hold on!”

saebyeok arrives, scooping you upwards, as if you weigh no more than a feather. there’s a desperate strength in her—a promise of protection that pulls you from the abyss. together, you and saebyeok reach the safe zone just as the surrounding shouts of horror and despair fade into a distant echo.

fear melds into gratitude as you look up at her. The realization flickers across your mind—this girl, this strong-willed stranger, cares. she won’t let you surrender to the darkness swirling around. as others rush toward you—concern etched deeply on their faces—you meet saebyeok’s eyes, putting all your hope into that very glance.

but before you can articulate your gratitude, a guard appears next to you. the cold metal of his revolver snakes through the air, and with a swift, brutal strike, everything dissolves into darkness. the world blurs, enveloping you in an unforgiving void.

you wake up dizzy, your heart racing and breath shallow as reality begins to uncoil around you. the world swims into focus: you are lying in the back of a remarkably expensive car, the leather seats firm beneath your body, yet far too soft for your liking at this moment. the familiar ache in your thigh is still there, throbbing painfully, a stark reminder of the chaos you just escaped—and yet, there’s a noticeable tension around the injury. you glance down, and your eyes widen as you see a piece of cloth wrapped tightly around your thigh, fashioned in a makeshift tourniquet style. a towel, stained dark red with your blood, absorbs the warmth of your injury.

turning your head with effort, you peer over toward the front seat, where the driver sits, her hands gripping the wheel with quiet determination. your breath catches; she has sharp yet elegant features, a woman with an air of unpredictability that unnerves you. her dark hair cascades down her shoulders, framing her pale skin, but it’s the intensity of her gaze in the rearview mirror that sends a chill racing down your spine. she appears calm, unbothered by the gravity of the situation.

“where— where are we?” your voice sneaks out, hoarse and weak, your tongue feeling thick in your mouth.

the one woman glances at you momentarily before returning her focus to the road, her expression unreadable. in that split second, you catch a glimpse of the pain and resilience etched into her features. “you’re safe.” she replies simply, her voice low and steady, almost melodic in its resolve.

the word safe echoes like a haunting refrain in your mind, pulling you back to thoughts of saebyeok and the chaos of the squid game. perhaps it's the remnants of fear from the game still thrumming in your veins—an unshakable instinct that safety may be a fleeting illusion. you remember her urgent instructions and her fierce determination, the way she urged you to escape.

“saebyeok… where is she?” you manage to croak out. “Is she—”

“she’s fine.” the woman interjects, turning the wheel sharply to the left. the abrupt motion sends a wave of nausea through you, and you fight to keep your lunch where it belongs. “but she’s not important now. just focus on your breathing.”

“i’m someone who’s not interested in watching you die.” she replies, driving through a narrow, secluded street. “i want to help you and her, but you need to trust me.”

to trust her? the irony is almost bitter, after everything that’s happened in the game. desperation gnaws at your mind as you replay the memory of the guard who shot you—totally unexpected, coldly calculating. but the woman radiates something different. maybe it’s the calmness in her tone, or the familiarity that lies beneath her sharp exterior. it’s tempting. but trust is hard–earned, especially in a place like this.

before you can respond, a wave of dizziness washes over you like dark ink pooling in water. the pain in your leg blurs into a backdrop of discomfort, and your vision starts to dim. The last thing you remember is your head dropping back against the headrest, the sound of tires screeching against the pavement rippling through the veil of unconsciousness.

you awaken with a gasp, the unfamiliar softness beneath you bewildering. the scent of herbal tea lingers in the air, mingling with a sense of disorientation. your body feels different—lighter, perhaps—but the sharp, throbbing pain in your thigh propels your thoughts back to the last moments of brutality. the memories rush in like an uninvited wave: a dark room, masked figures, the echo of gunfire, desperation, and the struggle for survival. you sit upright abruptly, panic clawing at your throat.

your hands shoot to your legs, searching for familiar fabric—the green uniform that has defined your existence as a player in the squid game—but instead, you find the cotton texture of a loose white t–shirt. but then, a sharp pain in your thigh reminds you that you can’t move too swiftly. it pins you to the plush sofa where you lie, the cushions cradling your body as you cautiously shift. your hand brushes against your thigh, and you flinch—something beneath the bandage is throbbing, a burning sensation just underneath your skin. you hesitate, then gingerly push the cotton of the bandage with your fingers. an unsettling reminder of the bullet wound you had suffered during the game.

as you breathe deeply, trying to steady your racing heart, a voice pulls you from the brink of a spiraling panic. a woman stands in front of you, her silhouette sharp against the backdrop of an exquisite living room. she’s striking, with deep auburn hair cascading in waves over her shoulders, and her attire—a silk blouse paired with tailored pants—screams sophistication.

“i hope you had a restful sleep.” she says, a soft smile playing on her lips. “i’ve prepared some tea for you.” she states matter–of–factly, gently setting a delicate teapot and two ornate cups on a coffee table in front of the expansive, luxurious sofa. she gestures toward the opulent coffee table in front of the sofa, revealing a polished silver teapot and delicate porcelain cups, almost too beautiful for the situation.

you want to respond, to ask questions, but your words are lodged in your throat. the sharp pain in your thigh throbs again, and your body refuses to cooperate.

“you need to stay still.” she advises, her voice low and soothing yet commanding. you can’t help but comply, your instincts telling you that defiance could lead to consequences you’re not ready to face. “the wound needs my attention first.”

the casual authority in her voice suggests that there’s more power in her small frame than you might comprehend. as she approaches, you can’t help but return to your previous survival instincts—should you trust her?

with that, she kneels beside the sofa, drawing your attention downward. you watch as her cool hands delicately examine your thigh, her fingers brushing over the bandage, careful not to apply pressure. the intimacy of the act sends an unexpected shiver down your spine, igniting a spectrum of emotions within you. she pulls out a small kit, pristine and organized, revealing instruments that slice through the nerves of your apprehension.

as she kneels beside you, the weight of your vulnerability hovers between you, and an unsettling mix of gratitude and apprehension blooms in your chest. “you took me out of there.” you whisper, realizing the implications of her actions. “but why?”

“because i can offer more than survival. i can offer a life.”

the first touch is gentle—a sting, but not unbearable—as she removes the bandage. you wince but remain silent, your gaze fixed on her intense focus. as the cloth comes off, pain lashes through you like a whip, spiking through the haze of confusion. you grit your teeth, the sight of your injury—a jagged bullet wound—is startlingly graphic. it sends a wave of nausea through you, but karina’s touch is gentle, almost comforting, as she surveys the damage.

you can feel the edges of her fingers as she applies antiseptic, a sharp bite that trails warmth as it spreads. the contrast leaves you breathless, a wave of sensations battling in your mind.

“hold on, this might hurt a bit.” she warns softly, and without hesitation, she begins to remove what’s left of the bullet from your thigh. you gasp, the pain surging through your body like a wire crackling with electricity. you feel your grip on the sofa tighten, knuckles whitening as you suppress a grunt.

“there we go,” she murmurs, her voice laced with a strangely comforting cadence. “you’re going to be okay.” with expert precision, she extracts the jagged piece, placing it gently aside. as she applies a new bandage, you can’t help but catch glimpses of her calm demeanor. the way she moves is both careful and confident, a jarring juxtaposition to the chaos you had just escaped.

“i have some experience with these kinds of things. you’d be surprised what money can buy in terms of expertise.”

“money doesn’t matter anymore.” you insist, wanting nothing more than to push through the oppression of helplessness and reclaim your freedom. “there’s no way out of this.”

when she finishes, she sits back on her heels, allowing you a moment to collect yourself. Your breath steadies, though your heart pounds, both from pain and the surreal circumstances unfolding.

“oh, but there is—if you choose to play your cards right.” she coos, her voice almost a sultry whisper as she pours a cup of tea, carefully handing it to you. “much more than your little coffee shop will ever pay you. just think of your parents. what if i told you i could change your life? make sure they never worry about a thing again?”

the room falls into a heavy silence. then, with a twitch of her mouth, she leans closer, her face just mere inches from yours. “you know, i could offer you a lot more than you make working as a cashier in that little coffee shop.” she states, her tone shifting into something more alluring. “you could have a life free from worry, free to take care of your parents without the constant struggle.”

you swallow hard, the weight of her words pressing down on you. the allure of an easier life tempts you, especially when you think of your parents. but there’s always a catch. with karina, everything comes at a price.

you sip the tea, feeling it warm your insides, yet the unease inside you doesn’t dissipate. Understanding dawns on you, but you wish it wouldn’t. “what’s the catch? what do you want from me?” you finally ask, barely above a whisper, daring to look her in the eye despite the unease thrumming in your veins.

iarina smirks, her eyes glinting with predatory delight. “nothing too complicated. be my partner in this little enterprise i’m building. utilize your skills from the game. you know the ins and outs of manipulation and survival better than most.”

the implication hangs heavy in the air, the predatory nature of her offer sinking into your consciousness. “you want me to work with you on something illegal?” you ask incredulously, heart racing. “you know what i am. what we’ve all been through.”

“in a way, that gives you more credibility.” she replies smoothly, her fingers now cleaning the wound with a swab, delicate yet firm. “people respect that type of history. i’ll pay you handsomely, far beyond your wildest dreams. enough to support your family, to elevate your status above merely surviving.”

her smile widens, and for a moment, her gaze holds yours fiercely, a burning intensity behind it. “just a little trust. a little cooperation. things can be… quite beneficial for both of us.” she leans in even closer, her breath brushing against your skin, warm and inviting.

the friction of your emotions collides: the urge to fight back against exploitation, against being used again, but the recurring reminder of your parents—their struggles, their sacrifices—fuels a twisted sense of acceptance. “and if i refuse?” you challenge, attempting to brave the interpretation of her intentions.

karina’s expression shifts slightly, a flicker of danger surfacing in her mischievous smile. “then i’d have to reconsider what to do with you, wouldn’t i?”

you watch as she applies an antiseptic ointment, the calm precision of her movements oddly mesmerizing. the tightness in your chest only deepens; you can feel vulnerability and desire intertwining together, as she leans in closer, the warmth radiating from her body washing over you.

“you see, this could be the beginning of a mutually beneficial relationship.” she whispers with a tantalizing smile, her breath laced with a floral scent.

before you can process her intentions, her lips crash against yours in a searing kiss, a sudden invasion that catches you off guard. you feel the world blur around you, the pain in your thigh forgotten for just an intoxicating moment as you succumb to the fervor of her kiss. it’s passionate, electric, filled with a raw hunger that ignites a yearning deep within you.

her hands find their way to your waist, fingers gripping you tightly as she draws herself even closer. In a confused swirl of emotions, you wrestle with your thoughts. reality clashes with the moment—the situation, the vulnerability, the manipulation—all exposed, stark and unavoidable.

as she deepens the kiss, you feel her hands move, groping at your sides with an urgency that sends an onslaught of conflicting feelings surging through you. it’s dangerously thrilling yet utterly terrifying. you’re caught between the lush fantasy she offers and the grim reality of what it all could mean—the depths of her manipulation, the shadows of power she wields.

when she finally pulls back, your breathless gasps fill the silence that lingers afterward. a mixture of confusion and desire fills your mind. “we both have things to gain here.” she states matter–of–factly, her cool composure returning, eyes glimmering with that same seductive control.

accidentally, karina places her hand on your injured thigh, earning a hiss from you. karina paused for a moment, her expression softening slightly as she took in your words. she stepped closer to you, her hand cupping your cheek gently as she gazed into your eyes. her thumb brushed lightly over your bottom lip, a tender gesture that belied her usual rough exterior.

“oh baby, i'm sorry... i forgot you’re still recovering.” she murmured, her voice uncharacteristically soft and caring. “don’t worry, i’ll be extra gentle with you, okay? i promise i won’t hurt you.”

she leaned in closer, her lips hovering just inches from yours. her breath was warm and sweet, smelling faintly of peppermint lip gloss and the lingering scent of cigarettes. when she spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper.

“i just want to make you feel good. i want to worship every inch of your beautiful body until you’re trembling with pleasure. we’ll take it slow, okay? nice and easy, just like this…”

with that, she closed the remaining distance between you, capturing your lips in a slow, sensual kiss. her lips moved against yours with a tenderness that caught you off guard, her tongue teasing the seam of your mouth.

karina’s hands slid down to your waist, her fingers splaying across your lower back as she pulled your body flush against hers. she deepened the kiss, her tongue delving into your mouth to dance and twine with yours. the kiss was slow and sensual, a contrast to her usual aggressive nature.

she takes your wrist, guiding you to walk to one of the many rooms in the house. she walked you backwards until your legs hit the edge of her king–sized bed, the plush mattress cushioning your fall. karina followed you down, covering your body with her own as she continued to plunder your mouth. her kisses were intoxicating, leaving you breathless and craving more.

one hand slid down to the hem of your shirt, her fingers slipping beneath the fabric to caress the smooth skin of your stomach. she broke the kiss to trail her lips down the column of your throat, her tongue flicking out to taste your racing pulse.

karina nipped at your collarbone before soothing the sting with a slow lick, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin. she looked up at you with hooded eyes, her gaze smoldering with desire.

“tell me what you want, babygirl.” she murmured, her voice low and seductive. “tell me how you want me to touch you…”

“please karina. i need you so badly…”

karina’s hand slid higher, her fingers skimming over your ribcage before cupping the soft swell of your breast. she squeezed gently, her thumb finding your hardening nipple through the thin fabric of your bra. she rolled the sensitive nub between her thumb and forefinger, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you gasp.

her mouth found its way back to your neck, her lips and teeth and tongue working in tandem to leave a trail of hot, open–mouthed kisses along your throat. she nipped and sucked at your pulse points, no doubt leaving marks that would linger for days.

karina’s other hand slid down to your hip, her fingers dipping just below the waistband of your jeans to tease the sensitive skin. she traced lazy circles, her touch maddeningly light and teasing.

she pulled back slightly to look at you, her eyes dark and hungry as they roamed over your face. her hand slid up to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

“i want to taste every inch of you.” she murmured, her voice low and rough with desire. “i want to feel you come undone beneath my touch, to hear my name falling from your pretty lips as you scream your pleasure.”

with that, she slid down your body, settling between your legs. she looked up at you with a wicked grin as her fingers found the button of your shorts, popping it open with ease. “lift your hips for me, babygirl. let me take these off of you.”

karina slowly peeled your shorts down your legs, her fingertips trailing along your skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake. she tossed the denim aside carelessly, leaving you bare from the waist down, clad only in your lacy panties.

she took a moment to admire the view, her eyes hungrily taking in the way the delicate fabric clung to your curves. she leaned in close, her breath hot against your inner thigh as she spoke. “fuck, baby... you have the most gorgeous legs i’ve ever seen. the perfect body.” she murmured appreciatively. “and this pretty pussy... i can’t wait to get my mouth on it.”

with that, she hooked her fingers into the waistband of your panties and slowly dragged them down, revealing your glistening folds to her eager gaze. she let out a low, approving moan at the sight.

karina leaned in even closer, her nose brushing against your slick heat as she inhaled deeply. the scent of your arousal filled the air, and she let out a low, guttural groan.

“you smell divine.” she purred, her voice vibrating against your sensitive flesh. “i bet you taste even better…”

she didn’t waste any more time, burying her face between your thighs and running her tongue along your slit in a long, slow lick. she savored your essence, moaning wantonly as she lapped at your dripping core.

karina focused her attention on your clit, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with the tip of her tongue before suckling gently on the swollen bud. her hands gripped your thighs, spreading your legs wider as she delved deeper, plunging her tongue inside your tight channel.

karina’s tongue explored your depths, stroking and caressing your inner walls with skillful precision. she curled her tongue in just the right way, hitting that special spot deep inside you that made your back arch off the bed. pleasure coursed through your veins, setting your nerve endings ablaze.

she could feel your slick walls fluttering around her invading muscle, your body instinctively trying to draw her in deeper. karina obliged, thrusting her tongue in and out of you at a steady pace, fucking you with her mouth as she savored your essence.

pne hand slid up your body to palm your breast, kneading the soft flesh and rolling your nipple between her fingers. she pinched and plucked at the hardened peak, sending jolts of electricity straight to your core.

karina’s other hand slid down to rub at your clit, her fingers circling and stroking the sensitive nub in time with the thrusts of her tongue. she could feel you growing closer to the edge, your body tensing and trembling with impending release.

she pulled back slightly, her lips wrapping around your clit as she suckled greedily. two fingers plunged deep inside you, curling in just the right way to stroke that special spot with every thrust. karina fingered you hard and fast, her mouth never leaving your clit.

“that’s it.” she encouraged, her voice muffled against your flesh. “come for me. i want to feel you come all over my fingers and tongue. give it to me, darling. let me taste your pleasure.”

karina could feel your walls starting to quiver and clench around her plunging fingers, your body tensing as your orgasm approached. she doubled her efforts, sucking harder on your clit as she pumped her fingers in and out of your dripping cunt at a furious pace.

she could tell you were close, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps and your hips bucking erratically against her face. karina wanted to taste your release, to feel your essence flooding her mouth as you came undone.

with a final, hard suck on your clit and a curl of her fingers deep inside you, she sent you hurtling over the edge. your body convulsed, your walls clamping down like a vice on her invading digits as your orgasm crashed through you.

karina moaned loudly as your juices gushed out, coating her fingers and chin. she continued to lap at your spasming flesh, working you through your high as your pleasure peaked and then began to ebb.

finally, as your body went limp and pliant beneath her, karina slowly pulled back. she sat up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she gazed down at you with a satisfied smirk.

“that was so fucking hot, sweetheart.” she purred, her voice low and rough. “watching you come apart like that... it was beautiful.”

she crawled up your body to capture your lips in a searing kiss, pressing her mouth against yours and letting you taste yourself on her tongue. karina’s hand slid down to your thigh, squeezing the soft flesh gently.

“i’m not done with you yet though, babygirl.” she murmured against your lips. “that was just the beginning. i’m going to fuck you over and over again until neither of us can move. i hope you’re ready for a long night."

#yu jimin #yu jimin x fem reader #yu jimin x reader #yu jimin smut #yoo jimin #yoo jimin x fem reader #yoo jimin x reader #yoo jimin smut #karina #karina x fem reader #karina x reader #karina smut #aespa #aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #aespa smut

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aventurineswife · 2 months ago

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I'm currently experiencing hsr brainrot help me, may I request aventurine, blade, sunday, jing yuan and boothill about their types or preferences(appearance, personality, and stuff like that) for their future significant partner? I'm not sure if this had been already done so ignore if yes!! Also I'm a new follower and I've read many of your works recently, I really love your writing style and how it ticks my brainrot just righttt ♡♡♡

HSR Characters and their preferences in a S/O

A/N: I tried my best here, but I didn’t get into specifics about hair color, eye color, or other physical attributes (except for scars and such). So please, don’t come after me (I’m joking, of course). After all, at the end of the day, it’s all fictional! 💀 And this is just my personal opinion on what the men would want in a S/O 😇. I hope you like this!

Appearance:

Aventurine is captivated by individuals who radiate subtle individuality—those who blend sophistication with an undercurrent of boldness. Unconventional touches like asymmetrical accessories, vibrant patterns, or a daring hairstyle intrigue him, especially when worn with confidence.

He’s drawn to a balance between practicality and elegance—someone whose style is functional yet carries an artistic flair, a quiet rebellion against conformity.

A piercing gaze, sharp and confident, mesmerizes him. He loves the challenge of eyes that seem to see past his charm and into the broken truths he hides.

Scars, blemishes, or physical imperfections catch his attention. They whisper untold stories he aches to unravel, providing a glimpse into the person beyond the surface.

Personality:

Aventurine seeks a partner who thrives in the dance of words and wit. He’s fascinated by someone who can keep him guessing—playfully resistant to his charm and never predictable.

He’s drawn to people who’ve endured hardship and emerged stronger, finding common ground in shared trauma or survival instincts.

While Aventurine guards his vulnerability, he craves someone with the emotional intelligence to see past his bravado. Their ability to intuit his needs, even when unspoken, creates a sense of safety.

He admires a grounding presence—someone self-assured yet humble, who can counterbalance his more dramatic tendencies without overshadowing him.

Compatibility:

High-stakes situations invigorate him, so he appreciates a partner who thrives under pressure. Whether it’s in a game of strategy or a tense negotiation, he seeks someone who can match his composure and cunning.

Trust is a slow-burning process for Aventurine. His partner must be patient, willing to navigate his walls without forcing him to open up before he’s ready.

Dynamic:

Aventurine doesn’t just want a lover—he needs a partner-in-crime. Someone willing to embrace the thrill of calculated risks, whether it’s a dangerous gamble or a perfectly executed scheme.

They balance his indulgent tendencies, providing a steady hand when he flirts with self-destruction. Together, they form a dynamic duo—equal parts chaos and control.

Appearance:

Blade has little concern for traditional beauty, focusing instead on the feeling someone evokes. He’s drawn to understated traits that exude calm, mystery, or quiet strength.

A serene or enigmatic aura captivates him, especially in those who seem like they’ve weathered storms of their own. Scars or imperfections are less flaws and more badges of survival—silent testaments to a shared pain.

There’s a certain poetry in subtlety that Blade finds magnetic, such as the way someone carries themselves or a fleeting, knowing glance.

Personality:

Blade’s ideal partner must embody gentle resilience—a quiet strength that offers stability amidst his chaos. He’s not drawn to overt displays of power but rather to those who endure with grace.

His partner needs to respect his emotional distance and allow their bond to deepen organically. They provide solace through presence, not pressure.

Understanding his guilt and anger without pitying him is crucial. He needs someone who offers comfort without trying to “fix” him.

He admires individuals who remain true to themselves, even in the face of his volatility. Their grounded nature becomes his anchor.

Compatibility:

Blade struggles with verbal affection and grand gestures. His partner must value actions over words—small, meaningful gestures like a shared silence or a comforting touch.

Loyalty is paramount. Blade often tests boundaries, whether intentionally or not, and needs a partner who remains steadfast in their care.

Dynamic:

Blade seeks a relationship built on mutual protection. His ideal partner isn’t there to save him but to walk beside him as he confronts his demons.

Their love is a slow-burning fire, marked by quiet moments of vulnerability and unspoken understanding. They don’t demand his trust but earn it, piece by fractured piece.

Appearance:

Sunday gravitates toward those with an ethereal or graceful quality—a beauty that feels otherworldly yet grounded. He appreciates the quiet elegance that reflects his Halovian heritage.

Symbolic trinkets or meaningful accessories, like earrings or pendants, resonate deeply with him, mirroring his love for intricate details and subtle meaning.

Personality:

Sunday is drawn to those who counter his melancholic worldview with a hopeful, compassionate perspective. He needs someone who gently challenges his ideals without dismissing his emotions.

His partner must possess a quiet, unwavering self-confidence. They confront his twisted philosophies with patience and understanding, offering a grounding presence.

A partner with a playful streak appeals to him, especially when it contrasts with his solemn demeanor. Their lightheartedness reminds him of life’s simple joys.

Compatibility:

Sunday needs a partner who can understand his lofty ideals and gently challenge them, offering a grounded perspective that helps him reconcile his desire for a perfect world with the imperfections of reality. They should help him navigate his philosophical struggles without dismissing his emotions.

Sunday thrives in a relationship where emotional depth is paired with moments of lightness. His ideal partner balances serious conversations with a playful streak that brings joy and reminds him of life’s simple pleasures, helping him reconnect with spontaneous joy.

Trust is built slowly for Sunday, so his partner must be patient, allowing their bond to deepen organically. They should provide stability and comfort, supporting him as he works through his emotional walls and guiding him toward growth without forcing him to change before he’s ready.

Dynamic:

Sunday’s ideal relationship thrives on emotional intimacy. His partner navigates his philosophical struggles with care, providing warmth and optimism without trying to fix him.

They challenge his tendency to idealize perfection, helping him rediscover beauty in imperfection and spontaneity.

Appearance:

Boothill is drawn to raw, unrefined beauty—someone who’s lived and survived, marked by the stories their body tells. Scars, tattoos, and bold fashion choices are a reflection of resilience and adventure, and he admires individuals who wear their history as a badge of honor. He’s captivated by those who can rock vibrant, contrasting colors or mismatched styles with confidence, projecting a sense of strength and individuality.

He’s particularly fond of eyes that burn with fire and determination—eyes that match his intensity, yet hold a vulnerability only the right person can see. Confidence is key, but it’s that unpolished confidence, the kind that’s earned through hardship, that pulls him in.

Personality:

Boothill craves a partner who can match his fierce energy and boldness. He’s drawn to those who share his burning passion for justice and fighting for what’s right, even if it means breaking the rules. He admires fearless individuals who challenge authority and embrace a world of gray, not just black and white.

A sharp, witty partner who can banter with him is essential—they need to hold their ground in arguments, but still know how to make him laugh. Beneath his hard exterior, he secretly yearns for warmth and loyalty, someone who sees past his rough exterior and recognizes the vulnerabilities hidden underneath.

Patience is a challenge for him, but he seeks someone who can balance his impulsive nature, tempering his decisions with wisdom while never dulling his fire. The ideal partner doesn’t just soothe his rage—they fan the flames in the best way possible, stoking the fires of his passion and his purpose.

Compatibility:

Boothill’s partner would have to keep up with his relentless pace, matching him in the heat of battle as much as in life. They must be able to stand beside him during intense moments of action, yet offer solace and understanding in quieter, more reflective ones. His ideal relationship is built on equal footing—where passion and respect for one another fuel their connection.

Their dynamic would never be boring—full of challenges, shared adventures, and a fiery bond formed through trials, risks, and the occasional reckless decision. They would push each other toward greatness, not with soothing words, but through daring acts of loyalty and love.

Dynamic:

Boothill wants a relationship full of intensity, one where his partner isn’t afraid to stand by him, even if it means navigating chaos or defying the odds together.

This is not a relationship where either party is passive—it’s a partnership of equals, where each individual’s strength and spirit fuel the other. Their love would burn brightly, fueled by both passion and unshakable loyalty, with both of them walking side by side through any storm, ready to fight for each other and what they believe in.

Appearance:

Jing Yuan is drawn to elegance and grace—someone whose appearance radiates composure and quiet strength. He appreciates fine details and a refined aesthetic, as he values artistry in all aspects of life. A partner who can carry themselves with quiet dignity, with clothing that flows or intricate designs, would catch his attention.

However, while Jing Yuan admires serenity, he finds himself captivated by the unexpected spark in someone’s personality. A playful glint in the eye or a mischievous smile is enough to unsettle his calm demeanor, drawing him in even more. He appreciates someone who can maintain their elegance but isn’t afraid to reveal the more unpredictable, adventurous sides of themselves when the moment calls for it.

Personality:

Jing Yuan is in search of a partner who has a calm, patient demeanor—someone who understands the complexities of his strategic mind and the burdens he carries. His ideal partner is not only compassionate and wise, but also someone who can see the long-term view, matching his ability to think and plan for the future.

At the same time, he’s charmed by a partner who can bring a sense of spontaneity to his life. While he thrives on stability, he appreciates the occasional touch of unpredictability—someone who can light a fire under his more sedentary tendencies, adding a dash of excitement to the otherwise peaceful routines he enjoys. He values a balance of tranquility and energy, where his partner’s playfulness can bring joy without overwhelming him.

Compatibility:

Jing Yuan’s ideal partner would have the patience to stand by him through quiet moments of reflection, as well as the capacity to engage with him in deep, meaningful conversations. They would respect his thoughtful, strategic nature, while also encouraging him to take moments of respite, enjoying the beauty of life’s simpler pleasures together.

They would need to understand his need for a sense of long-term stability, yet not let him become too withdrawn or passive. A deep intellectual connection, rooted in shared wisdom and mutual understanding, would lay the foundation of their bond. Their connection would be built on the steady progression of trust and affection, growing subtly over time.

Dynamic:

Jing Yuan seeks a partner who can offer emotional intimacy without pressuring him for more than he’s ready to give. They’d share moments of serene companionship, where quiet silences are comfortable, and words aren’t necessary to convey their bond. However, his ideal partner wouldn’t shy away from challenging him, nudging him out of his intellectual ruts and helping him see the world in a new light.

The dynamic would be one of mutual respect, with his partner both grounding him and adding an unpredictable spark to his life. While he values peacefulness, he enjoys the occasional adventure or light-hearted moments that break through his more serious demeanor, reminding him that even in the pursuit of wisdom, life can be full of wonder.

P-please don't come after me...😭😕

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evnseokz · 2 months ago

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{ ☆ the power play ~ l.hs }

pairing: office rival! heeseung x f.reader

contents: pwp, office rivalry trope, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up!), pet names baby, sweetheart, cum eating, fingering, big dick! heeseung, dirty talk, cream pie, think that’s it

a.n: based off this request here! so sorry for how long this took!!! wc: 2.3k i’ve marked where the smut starts if anyone wants to skip the plot!

the rivalry between you and heeseung had grown so thick that even the slightest exchange felt like a battle for supremacy. it started innocently enough with a few competitive projects, but over time, it had turned into something almost corrosive. every conversation felt like a subtle game of one-upmanship, every meeting a battleground where the smallest mistake from one could send the other into a smug, quiet victory.

it all came to a head one monday morning during the weekly team meeting. the new project proposal was up for discussion, and everyone knew that whoever led it would have the best shot at the upcoming promotion. heeseung leaned back in his chair, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he presented his ideas. the room was silent as he spoke, confident and composed, like he had already claimed the role as the project's lead.

you sat across from him, arms crossed, waiting for your turn. it wasn’t that heeseung’s ideas were bad—they were, in fact, quite brilliant. but the way he presented them, as if they were the only option, the only way forward, grated on your nerves.

when it was your turn, you stood and cleared your throat, the quiet tension in the room only amplifying as you faced the team. "while heeseung’s idea is solid," you began, keeping your voice even but firm, "i think we’re missing something crucial. we can’t afford to rely on just one approach, especially when we haven’t even considered the long-term impact of some of these strategies."

heeseung’s eyes narrowed, and his mouth set into a thin line. he leaned forward, hands clasped on the table in front of him. "you’re suggesting we scrap the proposal entirely?" he asked, his tone deceptively calm but with an edge that couldn’t be ignored.

"no," you replied, your voice unwavering. "i’m suggesting we think bigger. diversify our strategies before we commit to anything. we can’t put all our eggs in one basket, especially not with this much at stake."

heeseung’s gaze flickered with frustration, but he kept his composure. "that’s a nice theory, y/n, but in reality, it’s impractical. you’re overcomplicating things. sometimes, a single focus is more effective."

"overcomplicating?" you shot back, your temper flaring slightly. "it’s called planning for every possibility, heeseung. not everyone is content with playing it safe and hoping it works out."

the room grew uncomfortable, the rest of the team shifting in their seats, but neither you nor heeseung looked away. the air crackled with a silent challenge, both of you unwilling to back down.

after a moment, heeseung finally broke the silence. "fine. we’ll see whose approach works out in the end, won’t we?" his tone was still controlled, but the undercurrent of rivalry was unmistakable. you didn’t flinch. "we will. and i’ll be ready when it does."

the rest of the meeting dragged on, but the rivalry was the only thing anyone could focus on. it was clear now: both you and heeseung were determined to outdo each other, not just professionally but personally. neither would back down. and as the weeks went on, the tension only deepened, fueling a silent war between you that made every interaction feel like a high-stakes gamble.

in the bustling, fluorescent-lit office, your eyes were fixed on the spreadsheet in front of you, but your mind kept drifting. every few seconds, you could feel heeseung's presence in the room, like an electric charge in the air. it wasn’t just the fact that he had a way of effortlessly drawing attention with his quiet charisma—no, this was something more. it was the tension, palpable and thick, that seemed to hang between you like a tightrope waiting to snap.

heeseung, sitting just a few desks away, was no less aware of it. his calm, collected demeanor couldn’t hide the flicker of competition in his eyes every time your paths crossed. a few months ago, he’d started as the golden boy—quick, efficient, charming, and always one step ahead. but you weren’t one to back down from a challenge, and ever since that first project where heeseung had stolen the spotlight, the rivalry between you had only grown more intense.

the stakes were high now. with the promotion looming over the department, both you and heeseung were scrambling to prove you were the one to lead the team into the next quarter. every glance, every subtle comment, was a silent battle for dominance, each trying to outdo the other without saying a word.

you could feel heeseung’s gaze on you again—this time not as a quiet observer, but as if he were assessing you, calculating. your pulse quickened. this wasn’t just business anymore. this was personal.

you shifted in your chair, trying to focus, but the weight of his stare was unbearable. you had to do something. your mind raced, trying to push past the tension that wrapped itself around every thought. the idea of him constantly one-upping you, trying to assert his dominance—it made your blood boil.

but then, there was something else—something that you couldn’t ignore. a part of you that wasn’t just fighting for the promotion anymore. a part of you that felt a strange, undeniable pull toward him, something that went beyond rivalry.

you glanced up and caught heeseung’s eyes. this time, the challenge was different. it wasn’t just professional; it was something more raw. the silence between you deepened, and in that moment, everything else in the office disappeared. the hum of the fluorescent lights, the tapping of keyboards—it all faded away.

you stood up abruptly, unable to sit still any longer. heeseung didn’t move, but his eyes never left yours, the intensity of his gaze heightening as you took a few steps closer. the air between you felt charged, thick with all the words you hadn’t said, the emotions you hadn’t acknowledged.

you stopped a few feet away from him, your heart pounding in your chest. the office felt suffocating, but strangely electric, as if the universe had decided it was time for this standoff to come to a head.

“you know,” you said, your voice low, but the challenge still clear, “i could beat you at this.”

heeseung’s lips curled into that smirk of his—the one that always made you want to wipe it off his face. he leaned forward slightly, his voice almost a whisper. “you think so?”

before you could respond, he stood too. the movement was quick but calculated. he took a step toward you, his body closing the distance between you until there was nothing but the slightest breath of space separating you. his presence overwhelmed you, a mix of intensity and something else—something that made your thoughts scatter, your breath catch.

you swallowed hard, unsure of what came next, but before you could even think about it, heeseung’s hand reached up, brushing against your cheek in a gesture that was at once soft and daring. your pulse skipped. his touch was gentle, but the way he looked at you, like he was waiting for you to make the first move, made everything inside you tense.

then, almost as if the universe itself had decided you both were done with pretending, heeseung leaned in.

his lips brushed yours—barely a touch, but enough to send a rush of heat through your entire body. you froze, heart racing, not sure whether to pull away or lean in. but before you could make that decision, he kissed you again, this time more firmly, his lips moving against yours with a quiet, relentless urgency.

for a moment, all the tension, all the rivalry, all the years of fighting for dominance seemed to disappear. in its place was something that felt wild, untamed, and raw.

you kissed him back, unable to fight it any longer. the world outside the office—the promotion, the competition, the rivalry—vanished. all that mattered in that moment was the taste of him, the electric pull between you.

{smut starts here}

the kiss deepened quickly, his tongue swiping your bottom lip for entry, which you grant. your hands trailed up his shoulders to around his neck, his traveling to your waist, gripping tightly. before you could react, heeseung lifted you and placed you on the edge of the desk, knocking things over in the process but not even sparing them a second glance.

your hands moved down to his tie, gripping it harshly while pulling him even closer to you. his hands rested on your thighs, fiddling with the seam of the tight pencil skirt you wore that drove him crazy. hugging your curves in all the right places. his fingers slipped underneath, pushing the skirt up and bunching it around your waist. your tights came next, him pulling them down to pool around your ankles. at this point, you have broken the kiss to quickly get him undressed.

you let go of his tie to help his shrug his blazer off his shoulders, your hands dipping down to his belt next, unbuckling it frantically before tossing it to the side. his pants were next; he took over unbuttoning them as you reached inside his boxers to rub his length. fuck he felt so big in your hand. his body shuddered at your touch, sweat already starting to pool at his temples. he removed your hand from his pants. guiding your arms around his neck again.

“hold on for me, sweetheart,” he cooed into your ear, his breath fanning your skin, making you shiver. you nod eagerly as his hands make their way to your dripping pussy. his fingers press against your clothed heat, and your body jolts slightly. “you’re so wet already,” he smirked to himself as he spoke. “you’ve wanted this, haven't you? wanted me all over you? inside you?” he purred into your ear cockily. you couldn’t even bring yourself to roll your eyes, too desperate to have him inside you.

“please, heeseung, just do something!” you whine, your usual competitive self, not even desiring to argue with him. he chuckles at your eagerness; not wasting any more time, he pushes your panties to the side before plunging two fingers inside you without warning. your chest heaves as your back arches, a loud moan falling from your lips. all that can be heard in the quiet office is the squelching of his fingers pumping in and out of you at a brutal pace.

“think you can take three? hm?” he challenges. “y-yes! please!” you cry out; he quickly adds in a third finger, the obscene noises becoming even louder as your slick makes a mess of his fingers and the desk beneath you. your body is shaking at this point, and he hasn’t even put his cock in you yet. you feel yourself begin to unravel, the knot in your stomach tightening. “close!” you cry out, gripping heeseung’s neck for dear life as you prepare for your orgasm to wash over you.

but as soon as you feel it coming, heeseung removes his fingers from you entirely, making you whine at the loss of stimulation. he brings his fingers up to his mouth, licking and sucking them clean before digging his cock out of his unbuttoned pants. your eyes gawk at the sight in front of you. this was the biggest dick you had ever seen. fuck, you weren’t sure if you could take it. heeseung chuckled at your reaction; he was used to it; he knew he was larger than most.

he stroked himself a couple of times before lining himself up with your entrance. your breath hitched in your throat as you felt his thick tip prod against your entrance, your body still shaking from the letdown of your previous orgasm. slowly, he pushed the tip inside you, your fingers raked down his back, his thick cock stretching you the most you’ve ever been stretched. he pushes further inside of you, about halfway, and you feel like you’re being split open.

“f-fuck! you’re so big,” you moan, your chest heaving as you try to adjust to his size. “just a little more. you can take a little more, can't you?” he coos as he tucks a stray hair behind your ear, caressing your cheek lovingly. you nod slowly, preparing for the final stretch. in one swift motion, heeseung bottoms out completely inside you, his tip poking your cervix. your head is thrown back, your lip is between your teeth.

heeseung stays still inside you for a moment before rocking his hips slowly against yours. quiet pants fall from your lips as he picks up the pace; one hand is holding your waist, the other is bringing your face back towards him as he kisses you feverishly, lips molding against each other perfectly in sync.

his cock drags through your walls, finally maintaining a steady pace as he stretches out your tight cunt. small grunts land against your lips as he kisses you, your arms tightening around him to bring him closer. you want to be inside his skin at this point. he pulls away from the kiss. “relax, i’m not going anywhere, baby.”

his kisses the corner of your lips before trailing down your jaw and neck, sucking lightly in some places. the combination of his lips on your skin and his thick cock inside you driving you to your previously denied orgasm almost immediately. “c-cumming!” you moaned out as your body shook, your legs trembling as your hips bucked. “fuck!” heeseung hissed as your cunt clenched around him, sucking him in and keeping him there until you milked him for all he’s worth. his load shooting deep inside of you as his thrusts became lazy and slow.

he pulls out of you, his cum dripping out of your sopping hole, and heeseung is quick to react. taking his fingers and scooping his cum back into your pussy before moving your panties back into place, pulling up your tights, and pulling down your skirt before helping you up and off the desk. he puts himself back in order as well before leaning back down to look at you.

“finish your work for the night with my cum sitting inside you, and we’ll see what else i can do for you later.”

…

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lumiambrose · 4 months ago

Text

✰ the winning hand

kinktober 24 - day twelve

featuring: aventurine x f!reader

summary: you were taken by surprise when the aventurine of the ten stonehearts requests a private match from you. although, a gamble with him requires high stakes, and even higher rewards.

tags: smut, gambling, praise, degredation (if you reaaally squint), p in v, cunnilingus, use of sex toys, public sex, petnames (sweet girl, pretty, doll), not proofread (i drank too much last night mb fam)

wc: 2.2k

“so the winner of this next round takes all?” you clarify, unsure if the man in front of you has gone insane.

“spot on, pretty. if you win, i’ll be your loyal servant for the rest of the night. although if i win… you’ll be mine.” yeah. he’s lost it.

you’re currently in a private sector for the eclipse’s executives. it’s slightly elevated from the rest of the floor, almost like a private balcony with a gorgeous view of the grand casino. how you ended up here? you don’t even know. you were sipping on a sweet cocktail when aventurine, one of the ten stonehearts, requested a game from you. his assistant didn’t give you time to react as he led you away from the central casino and toward a far more private, lavish, hall.

ever the gentleman he is, aventurine picked you up there and stole you away to the balcony you now find yourself at. seeing as it was too late to decline, you figured you should get the most out of this experience as he explained the rules to you.

a standard game of poker shouldn’t be too hard, right? is what you tell yourself, despite struggling immensely against the man in front of you. you’ve only won… twice? out of the many rounds you’ve played and you’re getting worried, you can’t keep losing like this. almost on cue, aventurine suggests one final round to decide the winner, which is how you’ve ended up in your current predicament.

you eye the cards in your hand, desperately trying to keep your expression neutral. aventurine lounges across from you, one arm draped over the back of the sofa, his other hand casually toying with his chips. he’s confident. too confident.

“ready, pretty?” he’s teasing you at this point. the dealer, not making a sound, reshuffles the cards before sliding them your way. you glance at your hand and immediately regret your decision, but you don’t lose hope just yet.

the dealer reveals the first three cards on the table: jack of diamonds, queen of clubs, seven of spades. your stomach drops. aventurine smirks. it’s over.

with a hand like this, you shouldn’t even bet, but you go all in anyway, hoping the bluff works. of course, it doesn’t. he meets your bet, then raises.

the final card flips. king of hearts.

aventurine reveals his hand—ace and ten.

a straight.

you blink, stunned. aventurine leans forward, that damn smirk widening, “looks like you’re mine now.”

this was it, your fate had been sealed. only god knows what this man has planned for you. you let out a long sigh, accepting your defeat before locking eyes with him, waiting for his orders.

with a quick snap of his fingers, the dealer leaves the room, disappearing through the door without a word. “stand up,” you oblige, adjusting your short dress and hair as you rise from your chair, facing him. he does a one-over on your body, taking in every inch and curve, staring like a starved man.

the room suddenly feels much smaller as you’re left in aventurine’s company. he’s still lounging on the sofa before you, but this time, a more terrifying aura radiates from him.

his next command is simple. with a predatory smile and commanding tone, he orders, “your panties, take them off.”

for a second, you thought you didn’t hear him right. you hesitate for a moment, but the look in his eyes leaves no room for argument. slowly, you reach through your skirt, your hands trembling slightly as you hook your thumbs into the waistband of your panties and push them down.

he holds out his hands, glancing at the panties before his gaze shifts back to you. you hand them to him as a blush creeps up your cheeks. his hand grazes yours as he takes them from you, stuffing them into his pocket with a victorious smile playing on his lips.

“oh, one more thing,” he reaches over to a small box resting on the table, opening it and taking out a small vibrator. “you’re a smart girl so i’m sure you understand what i’m getting at. if you manage a few games without cumming, i might even reward you,” he coos. “you like the sound of that, doll?”

even if you wanted to refuse, you know you couldn’t. begrudgingly, you put the vibrator in your, now naked, pussy, letting out a soft sigh as it enters you. as much as you should be disgusted right now, you’re filled with nothing but adrenaline facing the man in front of you. the fear that you once had now slowly turning into excitement.

he sets up the next round of poker, shuffling a new deck of cards and sliding some your way. “no need to bet with chips anymore, if you manage to win as much as one game, i’ll make sure you’re cumming on me tonight.” his voice suddenly shifts into a darker tone “although, if you fail… we’ll keep up this little game of ours until you're begging on your knees for me.”

the hums of the vibrator fill the room as he turns it on from the small remote in his hand. any fear you should’ve felt from his threat going straight to your core, letting out a small moan at the danger.

the next few hours we’re nothing but agonising pain. you played his cruel game, as he abused the power he had over you, making you crumble for him. you were close? too damn bad, he turned the vibrator off, leaving you whimpering in agony. you tried bluffing? he saw right through it and set the vibrator to pulse inside of you, only switching it back to normal once you confessed your lie. sometimes you’d even be so distracted by the sweet pleasure between your thighs that your hand would accidentally slip, giving aventurine a complete view of your cards. but lady luck was on your side today as somehow, somehow, you beat him. maybe he let you and you didn’t notice as you were too distracted by the vibrating pleasure or perhaps you just got lucky. either way, you celebrated your victory, excited for what came ahead.

“congratulations, sweetheart,” he leaves the sofa for the first time tonight, slowly approaching you. “i’m a man of my word,” he kneels in front of you, pushing your legs apart. “i won’t stop until you’re cumming all over my tongue.”

without any further warning, he removes the vibrator, leaving you empty, only to replace it with his tongue.

he eats you out like it’s his last day alive. sucking, biting and slurping on your pussy. “so good,” he muffles, “you taste so fucking good.”

he continues to lap your folds, stuffing your cunt with his tongue and sometimes nibbling on your clit. he’s so shameless too, not attempting to hide any noises he makes while drinking you up. the longer he eats you out, the more dissolved his words get. filthy encouragements and teasing praises slowly turning into incoherent babbles, growling against your cunt. each vibration going straight toward your impending orgasm.

“you close, pretty? can feel you shaking around my tongue,” he says with one last lick on your folds before you come undone all over his face. your orgasm hits you like a wave, your juices crashing down on aventurine’s mouth.

he pulls back, slowly rising from his knees. “fuck– you taste divine,” he licks any excess juices from his face, “could eat this pretty pussy every day.” he grabs your hand, pulling you up from your chair and bringing you to the sofa he was once lounging on, “but that wouldn’t be any fun now, would it?” he bends you over with your back to the casino table, giving you a perfect view of the central casino.

“try not to attract too much attention, sweet girl.” with that, he hikes up your tiny dress and enters you in one slow, painful thrust. you moan at the sensation, definitely attracting a few curious eyes from below, but you’re in to deep to care anymore. he lets out a sigh of relief as he bottoms out, feeling your tight cunt already squeezing him.

“hah– so tight f’me,” he started to rock into you at a slow pace, taking his sweet time destroying you. as much as he desperately wanted to give into his primal urges, rutting into like there’s no tomorrow, he wanted to keep his promise. he wanted you to completely come apart on his dick, turning you into his little fucked-out doll. his one hand rest on your hip, keeping him steady as he moves inside you while the other snakes its way down to your clit, teasing your overstimulated bud.

the pleasure is overwhelming, leading you closer to your orgasm by the second, moaning out praises for the blonde behind you. “aah~ so good– i’m so close!” you can barely get the words out, but once you do, he can’t hold back anymore. “gonna make a mess on my dick, pretty?” he speeds up, thrusting at a faster pace, fingers working harder too.

“you close, doll?” he vibrates against your ear, “that’s my good girl… go on, cum on my dick, make a mess for me.”

that was all it took to push you over the edge, you clenched him tightly as your second orgasm hit you. moaning out his name as you gripped the balcony railing, letting yourself come undone for him. it didn’t take him long until he was also reaching his high, swiftly pulling out and releasing his cum all over your ass and back, staining your dress.

after he releases his grasp on you, you collapse on the sofa, breathless and still sensitive from the little game you both played. he takes his place next to you, moving your legs to rest on his lap. “looks like your dress is stained,” he traces a line down your leg. “give me your number. i’ll arrange a replacement.”

after exchanging numbers, you clean yourself up as much as possible before heading to the exit.

“oh, and sweetheart,” he calls out to you before you can leave. “call me when you want your rematch.”

taglist: @ryescapades @iamjellyfish @143-ilyuu @maruflix @pixelcafe-network

©lumis kinktober 24' ─ do not translate, repost, copy any of my works

#✰ ─ the devils month #ambrose.fics #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #hsr smut #hsr x reader smut #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x reader smut #honkai star rail smut #aventurine smut #aventurine x reader #aventurine x reader smut #aventurine hsr #aventurine x reader

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anthurak · 1 year ago

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So with everything we learned and saw in Episode 4 from Angel, Valentino, Charlie and Husk, here’s a little theory on how the Hotel crew saving Angel from Valentino might play out. Particularly in how Husk’s status as a former Overlord may factor into things.

Because I have a hunch it’s actually going to be Husk, rather than Charlie who gets fed up first and goes out to make a real attempt at getting Angel away from Valentino, given everything we saw between Husk and Angel in this episode. Specifically, Husk aims to lure Valentino into gambling for Angel’s contract.

Now that raises the question of what exactly Husk could gamble with. I see two possibilities:

Option One, Husk full on bluffs Valentino that he still has substantial power as an Overlord and has been hiding it all this time, tempting him with more souls and power. And as we’ve seen most notably in Episode 2, Val in kind of a massive fucking idiot, so I could see him actually falling for this. Essentially, Husk gambles with nothing, save his own soul, for a chance to save Angel.

Option Two, Husk actually gets his power BACK from Alastor. Specifically through fulfilling some mysterious, nebulous condition Alastor set up for him. It could even be that this is what sets up Husk to gamble Val for Angel’s freedom. Alastor returns Husk’s power as an Overlord because he’s curious as to what Husk will do with it now. Which we see, is putting it all on the line again for a chance to save Angel.

Whichever way we get to it, we find Husk in a high-stakes card game with Valentino. And of course, Husk does the classic trope of NOT telling his friends or even the guy he’s doing this for what he’s doing to ‘keep them safe’ and all that. Of course, they do find out. Which will come into play later…

As for the all-important gamble; Husk actually does WIN legitimately against Valentino. However, because Valentino is… well, Valentino he welches on the deal and attacks Husk, and perhaps a recently arrived Angel as well.

Now in the event that Husk was bluffing Valentino the whole time and is actually helpless against a fully-powered Overlord, this would be when Alastor, from afar, actually returns Husk’s own power as an Overlord as some offhand, magnanimous whim. Which of course now allows Husk to actually fight back against Valentino.

What ensues is a full and proper fight between Husk/Angel and Valentino, with all the requisite emotional drama of Angel and Husk admitting their feelings for each other and all of Valentino’s shittiness as a person coming out in force. Maybe like an mlm version of the Bees vs. Adam fight.

However, despite getting his power as an Overlord back, Husk ultimately turns out to not be as powerful as Valentino. Alternatively, perhaps he never gets his power back at all and we just skip to here from Husk winning the bet. Whichever way we get here, Husk and Angel are now at the non-existent mercy of Valentino.

Which is precisely when CHARLIE shows up.

And I imagine what ensues plays out in a flash. Like everyone is only just registering that Charlie has appeared when suddenly everything is on fire. We get only the briefest glimpses, perhaps only in silhouette, of the full-sized horns on Charlie’s head, the great leathery wings coming out of her back and the pitchfork in her hand before she has Valentino by the throat and the mothman starts BURNING, screaming in pain as he is consumed in hellfire.

Basically, I feel that after this episode we are going to see Husk be the one to step up first to try and save Angel from Valentino, given everything we saw between the pair this episode. But at the same time, I think the interactions between Charlie and Valentino, particularly Charlie starting to transform in rage, sets her up as the one who’s going to ultimately put Val down. Specifically via giving us a glimpse at Charlie’s true power.

And I do say glimpse because I imagine the full and proper reveal of Charlie’s ‘Devil Form’ is almost certainly going to be saved for when she’s forced to take on the likes of Adam and the Exorcists, the ones who have been set-up as proper antagonists to Charlie herself.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin theory #hazbin rambling #angel dust #hazbin husk #huskerdust #husk #hazbin valentino #charlie morningstar #devil!charlie #how valentino dies a horrible painful death theory

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insertdisc5 · 2 months ago

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✨COOL THINGS I PLAYED/SAW/READ THIS YEAR, 2024!!!!!!!✨

✨MOVIS✨

Knight of Fortune was such a delight. karl's wife is dead-- he has to go to the morgue. to see her one last time. SURPRISINGLY funny given the theme, and incredibly sweet. AND you can watch it in its entirety on youtube

youtube

american fiction! incredible movie that made me think. what does it mean to tell "our stories"? what does it mean to show "representation"? how authentic can you truly be about your own lived experience? funny as hell too

youtube

if you havent seen Monkey Man, quite frankly i dont want to talk to you. dev patel i will watch whatever you make for the rest of time

youtube

the rest under the cut because this list got long

playtime by jacques tati. just slapstick. oh my god this was so goddamn funny

youtube

yeah you know it. i was very strong the whole time and then the credits hit and i started sobbing uncontrollably in the theater

youtube

challengers and i saw the tv glow are tied in first place for my favorite movie this year. incredibly funny and SO WELL EDITED. highly recommend watching it with friends so you can scream "OH NO HE DIDN'T" together

youtube

✨TV SHOWS✨

SHOGUN!!!!!! oh my god there is so much to praise in this show. the costumes! the actors! the story! how they integrated both english and japanese speakers in a realistic way! so good

youtube

korean reality shows are not fucking playing around. the editing and sets are truly top notch

youtube

✨BUUKS✨

-Friday Black by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah! what if black mirror was actually good. AND centered the stories of black people. highly recommend

-Character Limit: How Elon Musk Destroyed Twitter by Kate Conger and Ryan Mac! you probably were on twitter when The Whole Thing happened. maybe you dont know the exact details like i do. what if the details were worse i also dont read non-fiction very often, surprised at how fun this was to read!

-The Chromatic Fantasy by H.A.! I've been following their work since forever, and this was a delight to read as always! THE COLORS…………. BITES BITES BITES BITES

-sad girl space lizard. hell yeah (18+ only!)

-Gritli - The Moth Diaries by Sophie Florian und Hanako Emden! this one was just so strange and fascinating. per words of the authors: "Taking on the voices of anthropomorphic animals, the authors write about labour, companionship and crushing."

✨VIDY GAMES✨

skipping balatro, splatoon side order, fields of mistria and webfishing, because you probably know about those. uuuuh

i am too stupid for Void Stranger, but My God if you're smart this game will become your favorite game ever. 2D sokoban with so many secrets

marchen line!!! nth circle never misses. the visuals here are so fun!!! the UI! the plot! the almost-automatic-censoring when you see gore, as if your mecha body took a second to load!! hell fucking yeah

"adrienne, of the devil was this year" OH WORD? THEN EVERYONE SHOULD PLAY OF THE DEVIL'S FIRST EPISODE WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR

life after magic! magical girls are now adults, and magic is disappearing. what now? the art is so cute, and the story was very engaging. thank you for the additional episode with [spoilers]

i started nine sols and i think i might be enough of a gamer to beat it

shadow generations game of the year no contest. thank you for your time

you can also look at my massive list of stuff i played/watched/etc here. i am not posting this whole dang thing

#recs #Youtube

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hanzalla · 2 months ago

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undercover agents Buck & Eddie

Buck and Eddie were undercover agents on a high-stakes mission, tasked with infiltrating a covert arms deal. Forced to work together despite their clashing personalities, they spent most of their time snapping at each other. The mission had been a disaster, a whirlwind of close calls and chaos, leaving them both battered and bruised but somehow alive. Back at the safe house, the adrenaline still coursed through their veins, making the air between them feel volatile, ready to ignite.

Buck leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath, while Eddie paced across the room like a restless predator, his jaw tight, fists clenching and unclenching as if trying to contain the storm inside him.

“You think you’re some kind of hero, don’t you?” Eddie snapped, his voice razor-sharp, slicing through the tension like a blade.

Buck straightened, his eyes narrowing as he met Eddie’s glare. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Eddie stopped pacing abruptly, pivoting to face him, his expression a mix of anger and exasperation. “do you even think! You just dive in headfirst. You treat every mission like a damn game of chicken.”

Buck bristled, crossing his arms defensively. “I didn’t hear you complaining when it worked,” he shot back, his tone defiant.

Eddie took a step closer, his movements deliberate and charged. “Worked? You made yourself a target! You nearly got yourself killed! You don’t get to gamble with your life like that—not when other people are counting on you.”

The accusation hit Buck like a punch to the gut, but he refused to show it. Instead, he pushed off the wall, his voice rising to match Eddie’s. “What’s your problem, huh? You were fine. I made sure of it. You think I don’t know what I’m doing?”

He added with a forced smirk. “You think you know me, Eddie? You don’t.”

Eddie’s eyes darkened, and in a flash, he grabbed Buck by the front of his shirt, slamming him back against the wall with a force that rattled the room. The air left Buck’s lungs in a grunt, and for a moment, he was too stunned to respond.

“This isn’t a joke, Buck!” Eddie shouted, his voice raw with emotion. His face was inches from Buck’s, his eyes blazing with fury, but beneath the anger was something deeper—fear. “Do you even care that you almost died tonight? Or are you so damn selfish you don’t think about the people who’d have to live without you?”

The words hit harder than Buck expected, cutting through his defenses. He froze, his gaze dropping. “As if there’s anyone who would care,” he muttered, his voice quieter now, almost broken. “But I couldn’t let you get hurt. You’ve got Christopher. You’ve got people who love you. I don’t have that.”

Eddie’s grip on Buck’s shirt loosened, his anger giving way to shock. The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of Buck’s confession hanging between them like a storm cloud.

“You’re not invincible, Buck,” Eddie said at last, his voice trembling as he lifted Buck’s chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. “And I can’t—I won’t—keep watching you destroy yourself like this.”

Buck swallowed hard, his throat tightening with unspoken words. “Eddie…” he started, his voice softer now, hesitant. “It’s fine. You don’t have to act like you care. I know you hate my guts.”

Eddie let out a bitter, humorless laugh, stepping back as if burned. “Hate you?” he repeated, running a hand through his hair. “If I hated you, I wouldn’t be standing here, yelling at you for almost getting yourself killed. You think I enjoy this? That I don’t care?”

Buck stayed against the wall, his heart hammering in his chest. There was something raw and unguarded in Eddie’s voice that left him speechless.

“Just… stop being so reckless,” Eddie muttered, his tone strained and quiet now. He turned away, his shoulders tense, refusing to look at Buck. “Because I can’t—” His voice cracked, and he exhaled sharply. “I can’t lose you.”

The vulnerability in Eddie’s words left Buck reeling. He stayed where he was, his breath shallow, the weight of everything sinking in. For the first time in a long time, Buck didn’t have a clever retort, didn’t have the words to fill the silence.

And for once, the silence didn’t feel like something he needed to fix. It felt like something they both needed to understand.

#911 abc #eddie diaz #buddie #evan buckley #buddie au #911edit #911 au #buddie fic #buddie edit #911 fic

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ofthedevil · 23 days ago

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OF THE DEVIL: EPISODE 1 IS JUST ONE WEEK AWAY.

don't miss out on the latest entry in our cyberpunk-meets-courtroom-drama mystery adventure game. unless you're a fake evil women fan. unless you hate toxic yuri. unless you're a coward that can't handle a little high-stakes, life-on-the-line gambling fun.

i know you're not any of those things. so wishlist OF THE DEVIL today, right here on Steam. Episode 0 is free.

#of the devil #visual novel #indie gaming #vndev #adv #otdevil

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whxtedreams · 6 months ago

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Familiar yet Foreign

A Din Djarin x f!reader oneshot

Summary: In the depths of Canto Bight, you find something you thought you lost; his trust.

Written for @burntheedges roll-a-trope challenge - my trope was fake dating/marriage.

Word Count: 3.7k

Tags: fake marriage, untrustworthy reader, mentions of past injury, one bed hehe, protective!din, unwanted male attention, fear of loss, handcuffs, thief!reader.

Main masterlist - series masterlist

Canto Bight, the infamous, glitzy gambling hub, was a paradox.

On one hand, it was no place for a thief like you. With security cameras, guards and wealthy patrons on high alert.

On the other hand, the place was ripe for a skilled crook like yourself. With the promise of hefty winnings on the casino floors and in private games, temptation was everywhere. The dimly lit alleys and extravagant parties provided perfect cover for those with the expertise and daring to take advantage of the high-stakes environment.

In a way, Canto Bight was both forbidden territory and an opportunity waiting to be seized.

The only problem was you had made a promise to the Mandalorian you were traveling with.

The Mandalorian, or rather, Mando, had stood in front of you where he had sat you on a crate on his ship earlier that day. His arms crossed over his chest. The glare you knew he gave you, hidden behind the helmet.

"Listen," he said, "you're going to sit here and you're going to stay out of my way. You're not going to cause any trouble, not going to bring any attention to yourself. You're going to stay right here. Got it?" His voice was cold and unwavering and his stance made it clear that the matter was non-negotiable.

You had waited ten minutes after he left before you left.

There was too much to see and steal after all.

The city was a sprawling, pulsating beast by night. The dimly lit alleyways and shadowy rooftops were your playground as you navigated discreetly through the city. You moved like a ghost, flitting from one venue to another. From the lavish cantinas to the high-rolling casinos. Your fingers were nimble and sure, plucking riches from the hands of the wealthy as easily as if they were picking ripe fruit.

You had missed this, the thrill and adrenaline of a thief's life.

Mando was like a jailer recently, keeping you caged on his ship. He had refused to let you leave for months. The reason was clear - your error. It wasn't just a simple slip-up; it had led to an injury that had stained both Mando’s and your hands with your own blood. It had caused the bounty hunter's protective instincts to kick in. He was determined to keep you under his watchful eye, his actions both a punishment and a precaution. The atmosphere on the ship had turned heavy with tension, the silence broken only by the hum of the engines and the occasional sigh or muttered curse from the stoic warrior.

He used to talk to you, used to seek out your company.

It had been months since a conversation lasted more than five seconds.

You felt so lonely.

The air of Canto Bight was like a drug, a potent mix of excitement, opulence, and thrill. It was just what you had been craving. The atmosphere was electric, the glitz and glamor everywhere you looked. The streets were filled with people eager to gamble, party, and seek out adventure. The promise of a good time and the chance to escape your mind was intoxicating and you found yourself drawn in like an Alderaan furry moth to a flame.

You were navigating the cramped, labyrinthine ventilation shafts as you tried to avoid detection of the guards. They had thrown you into the trash filled back alley as you tried to enter the high states casino. It was a risky move, but you had done it many times before.

You were skilled at getting into places you shouldn’t be in after all.

However, this time, your luck ran out the moment you crawled out of the vent and made a turn into a narrow corridor. Unknown to you, the hallway was not empty. You turned the corner and head butted into a solid, metallic surface. As you looked up, blinking in surprise, you realized with a pang of dread that you had head butted Beskar.

Mando.

Shit.

"I can explain," you said. The words tumbled from your mouth in a rush as Mando’s gloved hand grabbed hold of your wrist.

“We can talk about that later. I need you.” He said.

You trailed behind Mando, your footsteps echoed softly in the dimly lit corridors. The music from the cantina below was a distant, booming pulse. Its sound muffled by the thick walls but still strong enough to fill the air. The occasional glimpses of flashing lights spilled out through the doors you passed and it painted the floors in a deep purple hue, providing the only source of illumination in the otherwise dark and ominous hallway. You could feel the tension in the air and the Mandalorian's steps ahead of you seemed purposeful.

Mando came to a sudden halt in front of a guard that stood in front of large golden double doors. His hand that had been grasping your wrist just moments before moved to rest on your spine. You felt a slight pressure, a silent command to stay put. You looked up at Mando, confusion and curiosity in your eyes as you tried to puzzle out his actions.

“Mywife,” Mando said.

His what?

Before you could open your mouth to voice your confusion, Mando’s hand gave a sharp tug at your shirt and pulled you against his chest. The sudden movement caught you off guard and you stumbled into him, your back now pressed firmly against the cool Beskar. The question that had been forming on your lips died on your tongue as you felt the solid presence of the warrior behind you.

The guard looked you over, his expression skeptical as he took in your bewildered face. He raised an eyebrow and directed his attention back to Mando, his tone unimpressed. "You sure about that?" he said.

“It’s new,” Mando replied.

“Very new,” you said.

Your gaze shifted from the guard's face, which was locked in an intense, one-sided staring contest with the Beskar helmet behind you. To your left, a framed sign on the wall caught your eye. It was a gaudy, overblown declaration advertising a casino room beyond was open to married couples only.

Oh.

“My wife and I would like to play Sabacc. Now.”

The guard sighed.

“Fine, but one wrong move and I will throw you out. Mandalorian or not.” The guard grumbled as he opened the door for you to step through.

Mando steered you through the threshold of the doors and into the crowded, lively room beyond. Round tables were strategically placed throughout the space, each occupied by couples absorbed in either their game or live Fathier Racing holograms. Groups of people roamed the floor as they moved from table to table, eagerly watching the games and races unfold. Along the walls, secluded booths provided intimate spaces for groups of people, their conversations hidden behind the low, padded barriers. The air was thick with tension and excitement. The hum of chatter and the clink of credits filled your ears.

Credits to steal.

“I can feel your fingers twitching.” Mando said.

You stole a glance at Mando. His helmet faced away from you as he scanned the room. His gaze moved from table to table, taking in every detail just as you had but for an entirely different reason. His hand was still pressed firmly against your back, its weight a constant reminder of his presence. It was familiar yet foreign. You could feel the slight tension in his touch, the subtle way his fingers pressed through the fabric of your shirt. A silent signal for you to stay close.

You clenched your fists tightly, the action a meager attempt to control the tension that coursed through your body. Your fingers dug into your palms as Mando turned his helmet to look down at you. You could feel the weight of his gaze bearing down on you, even through the visor of his helmet. You took a deep, steadying breath, maintaining the neutral expression on your face despite the hammering of your heart against your ribcage.

"Are you going to behave?" The low hum of his voice behind the modulator sent a shiver down your spine as he spoke. You swallowed hard, struggling to find your voice as you nodded stiffly in response.

“Always.”

He scoffed; the sound muffled through the modulator in his helmet. His hand tightened in your shirt as he gripped the fabric firmly.

“I don’t need a repeat of last time.”

Despite the gruff and frustrated tone in his voice, there was a hint of gentleness in the way this hand smoothed the fabric of your shirt, his touch surprisingly careful. With his guidance, he led you to an empty booth at the back of the room. The dim lighting provided a secluded area away from the main gambling tables. You could sense the tension in his stance, the controlled strength and power coiled beneath his armor. As he motioned for you to sit, his presence loomed over you like a shadow.

As you settled yourself on the cold metal bench of the booth, Mando’s voice cut through the hum of the casino. "If I tell you to stay, will you?" His visor was trained on you, the purple dim lights above the booth casted shadows across his already intimidating visage.

You nodded.

He shifted his weight and rested his hands on his hips. He then cocked his head to the side, his gaze locked onto you. He exhaled, the sound a deep, mechanical huff, as if he were gathering his thoughts or summoning some inner strength.

With a swift, practiced movement, Mando unclipped a pair of cuffs and secured one around your wrist. You felt the cold metal pinch against your skin, the sound of the click as the cuff locked into place. Without a second thought, he attached the other cuff to the heavy table leg, effectively tethering you to the booth.

“You understand why I don’t trust you?”

You nodded again.

Because you do. You really do.

Once you were secured to the booth, Mando leaned in close. The cold, hard surface of his helmet mere inches from your face. In a low, firm voice, he informed you that he would return once he had acquired the information he needed or captured the bounty he was hunting. The weight of his words and the situation's gravity settled over you like a leaden blanket as he took a step back, his figure disappearing into the crowd of gamblers.

So, there you sat, bound to the booth. The minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness. You could have easily slipped free the cuffs and you knew Mando was aware of this fact as well. This waiting game was a test, a trial to see if you could be trusted again. If you had the discipline and restraint to stay put despite the temptation to flee.

You waited for him.

Around the two hour mark a burly Weequay pushed his way into the booth beside you. The weight of his body caused the metal bench to creak and groan under his weight. He settled into the space with a smirk, his eyes scanned you up and down with a leery gaze.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” you said.

"You here all alone?” The Weequay leaned back, his arm slid over the back of the booth and came to rest behind you with a casual familiarity that immediately set your nerves on edge. He chuckled softly as his eyes lingered on your bound wrist. “And handcuffed?” His other hand reached for your bound wrist.

Just as you were about to snap a retort at the Weequay, a deep shadow fell over the booth. Your eyes instinctively lifted to find the source. In front of you stood the imposing figure of the Mandalorian, every inch of his body radiated tension and anger. His hands were clenched tightly by his sides, his stance wide and aggressive, as if he was barely holding himself back.

The Weequay's face twisted into a frown as he turned around, his gaze locked onto the imposing figure behind him. The cocky expression fell from his face and he visibly tensed, his body jolted in surprise at the sight of the armored warrior. He swallowed hard; his confidence vanished like smoke in the wind.

"If you want to leave with your hand attached," he stated, each word punctuated clearly, "I suggest you take your hand off my wife." Mando's voice was as cold and hard as the Beskar he wore, the threat in his words clear and unequivocal.

The Weequay's eyes widened in surprise at the term "my wife," and his head whipped over to look at you. He stuttered over his words, his eyes darted between you and the Mandalorian. He hastily slid out of the booth; his apologies spilled out of his mouth in a rush as he took in the sight of the furious Mandalorian towered over him. In a heartbeat, he turned on his heel and scurried away, disappearing into the crowd.

The moment he left; you could see the tension in Mando’s shoulders relax. In his hand was a drink, the condensation on the outside of the glass glinted in the casino lights. With a nod, he placed the drink on the table beside you. The liquid within beckoned to you, the cool, cold condensation a tantalizing promise of relief. You practically lunged for the drink, your parched throat relishing the cool liquid as you downed it all in one gulp.

“Your wife, huh?” You smiled as you put the empty cup on the table.

After watching you practically inhale the drink as if dying of thirst, Mando bent down as he ignored you. With a swift motion, he unlocked the cuff around your wrist and freed you from the booth. He then stood straight again; his gaze fixed on you.

“Got the information I needed. We can head back to the Crest.” He said as you rose from the booth.

Mando’s reaction was instant as you reached out and grabbed his wrist, his body jolted at the unexpected touch. He turned back to face you.

“What?”

You looked up at him, your hand still wrapped around his wrist and suggested, "What if we get a room? With an actual bed, maybe?"

He stared at you.

“I may have stolen enough credits, so I can pay for it myself?”

His visor betrayed no reaction, but his body seemed to tense beneath your hold. Then, he nodded.

Mando seemed to consider your suggestion for a moment before he spoke, his voice gruff beneath the modulator. "Fine," he said, the word coming out as a reluctant agreement. He then adjusted his grip, his fingers wrapping around your wrist instead. "But only because you didn't run off," he added as he pointed his finger at you, a note of subtle approval in his tone.

As he pivoted on his heel and began to lead you through the casino, you couldn't help but smile to yourself. There was a sense of triumph in the way he tugged you along, your hand encircled by his sturdy grip. The sound of the casino faded into the background as you followed him through the corridors and to the lobby.

The moment Mando reached the counter, he reached out and rang the bell. After a moment, the guard from earlier emerged from the back room, his expression a mix of tiredness and irritation. The guard let out a long sigh, leaning heavily on the counter as he recognized the armored figure before him.

"Two rooms," Mando said. With a flick of his hand, he tossed a small stack of credits you stole onto the counter and it clattered against the hard surface.

The guard darted from the credits to Mando’s helmet and raised his eyebrows. “Two rooms?” He asked.

Mando remained still as he stared at the guard.

"Now, why would a husband and wife need two rooms?" he sneered, a smirk played at the corner of his mouth. The guard crossed his arms across his chest, as if challenging the Mandalorian's response. The tension in the air thickened as he stared at the guard, his grip on your wrist tightened ever so slightly.

“One. Room.” Mando said and you felt the anger radiate off him.

The guard raised an eyebrow at Mando's tone, seemingly surprised by the man's demeanor, but he quickly snatched the credits from the counter and handed Mando one room key.

With a swift, almost violent motion, Mando snatched the key and remaining credits from the counter. The guard's fingers barely moved out of the way in time.

It wasn’t until the door shut behind you with a soft click and a sense of isolation enveloped you that you noticed Mando's shoulders relax again. His rigid stance loosened as if shedding the tension that had been weighing heavily upon him. The dim lighting of the room cast dramatic shadows across his armor, but for a moment, in the quiet of the room, he looked less like an intimidating warrior and more like a man struggling to hold onto his composure.

He walked past you, his movements purposeful and measured and made his way to the chair in the corner of the room. He spoke as he sat down, the sound of the chair creaked slightly under his weight as he folded his arms. "I'll take the chair," he stated, his voice flat and matter of fact. He leaned back in the chair, the metal of his armor clinked against the wood.

You sat down on the edge of the bed closest to him, the springs of the mattress dipping slightly beneath your weight. You looked over at Mando seated in the chair he had claimed as his own. "I'm sorry," you said.

His helmet flicked up to glance at you, but other than that he didn't move.

You sighed.

“I’m sorry you can’t trust me like I want you to.”

“I did trust you.”

You looked up at him and nodded slowly.

“I trusted you to trust me and you-” he stopped himself with a deep sigh and shook his head, “Do you know I still find your blood in the Crest?”

Your eyes closed involuntarily as shameful memories flooded your mind. Flashes of his shaking hands on your bloody body in the dimly lit corner of the Crest. The memories played out in quick, vivid snapshots, like photos being shuffled in a deck of cards. The sound of his angry, raised voice echoed in your head. Its volume and intensity were a stark contrast to his usual collected and calm demeanor. His hands tearing at your clothes to get to your injuries. His hands holding you down as you cried. Your cold body drenched in your own blood. His cries as he held you. You could almost feel the fear that oozed from him, a fear you had never seen in him before, and it terrified you more than your injury had.

“I can’t see you like that again,” he said.

You took a deep breath and opened your eyes again, the memories still lingered like ghosts in the back of your mind. Without uttering a word, you nodded in acknowledgment.

You turned away from him, your focus shifted to the bed that seemed too large and too empty for just you. The words "Sleep with me?" left your lips before you could second-guess yourself, your voice almost a whisper in the quiet room.

“What?”

“I miss you Mando. I won’t touch you, I just - miss you.”

Without a word, he stood from the chair.

Mando did not take his armor off like he used to. He did not slip under the covers, instead laid on top of the sheets. He did not hold you close to his chest like he had for countless months.

The distance was palpable; not just the space between your bodies, but also the distance between the connection you once shared.

Instead, you found yourself clutching the soft fabric of his cloak in your hands as you laid beside him. The scent of him that had once seemed soothing and comforting was muted by the metallic smell of his armor. Fatigue tugged at your eyelids, your mind teetering on the edge of sleep as you held onto his cloak. The bed seemed too large, too desolate without his embrace.

He was so close yet so far.

Familiar yet foreign.

As you were on the verge of that sweet surrender of sleep, his arm moved around your waist and pulled you gently closer to him. His touch was unexpected, his movements cautious yet deliberate. Your body slotted against his armored form, the cold touch of his armor against your skin a sharp contrast to the unexpected warmth that spread through you at the contact.

“Can I trust you? Will you trust me to keep you safe? Because I can’t see you like that again and I need to know if I can trust you to listen to me when it matters most,” he said. You could hear the strain in his usually calm and collected voice. The underlying hint of fear in his tone.

You nodded into his side, the strength of his grip on your waist a comfort. You had no intention of leaving his side again, the memories of his angry voice and shaky hands was still fresh in your mind. You wanted to stay close to him, for him to trust you in the way he once had.

He nodded as he sat up in the bed, his movements methodical and practiced. You silently watched as he began to remove his armor, each piece came off with a series of clicks and scrapes as he unclasped and untethered the Beskar from his body.

He left his armor stacked neatly on the chair; each piece placed with a level of care. Then, he returned to the bed, the mattress dipped slightly as he slid under the sheets. His body warm against yours.

You could have cried.

You did cry.

The warmth of his bare hand against your stomach as he pulled your back against his chest emanated more than just physical comfort. The solidity of his body against yours was a reminder that he was there with you. His touch was firm yet gentle, his fingers splayed over your stomach in a way that suggested he was afraid of letting go. You sank back into his embrace, the steady beat of his heart against your back a soothing lullaby you had not been able to sleep without.

You weren't alone anymore.

Notes

Did I stay on track of fake marriage? Maybe? – listen I tried. I sat down to try and write this three times and scrapped it three times before I finally stuck with this. But regardless, I had a lot of fun doing this! I haven’t necessarily written in the Star Wars universe before, only AU’s with Din so this was very intimidating. I did, however, like writing it. It was just scary because I didn’t want to describe something incorrectly or not write it correctly?

#din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x reader #mando x you #mando x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian

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