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dyingswanpavlova · 2 days ago

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"Your girl" - Part 10 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: A fight turns into something beautiful. Turns into what could be your last day on earth.

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening, mentions of blood, mentions of murder/rape/death, hinting at suicidal thoughts (only briefly and not really serious, but I'll put it here nonetheless), body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation and low self-esteem, mentions of sexual activities and desires, smut, (rough) sex, oral sex, switch, degradation kink, dom/sub dynamics, daddy, not beta-read, if I've missed any please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

The tight smile.

It was all you needed to see to know you were in great, big trouble. It was really disappointing though, considering how good the day had started.

When you woke up, right after having a short, restless sleep, you saw him lying beside you. And for once, ever since you had gotten here, he wasn’t awake. No, he was deep asleep. His beautiful eyes shut tightly and his expression one of peaceful relaxation. You hadn’t ever seen him this perfect before.

It was nearly ridiculous. Just a few hours earlier, he had ravaged you in a way that left you feeling sore and used, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but somehow you had a feeling last night was different. It wasn’t the sex per say. It was the way he got angry and you felt you couldn’t get through to him, even if you truly wanted to. And what was far worse than all of it, was the threat.

The threat.

What did it even mean?

I would never kill you. At least not unless you gave me a reason to.

It wasn’t even a subtle threat. He didn’t try to hide that he was twisted and dangerous. Dangerous for you, if you pushed the right buttons. You had done so quite some times by now, but luckily you were still around. But how much was too much?

What would make his mind go blank and cause him to swing an axe at you?

Shoot you right in the face?

Gut you in the middle of the-

You shuddered and took a long, deep breath to calm yourself. This wasn’t going to happen. You wouldn’t anger him to that degree. And yet, you couldn’t keep yourself from thinking about it.

What could possibly piss him off enough, to trigger such an extreme reaction?

If you went out and fucked someone else?

Or if you spilled milk on the coffee table?

You took another slow breath and looked back at his peaceful, sleeping form. It was hard not to love him, when he was like this. Sweet. Peaceful.

Vulnerable.

You hadn’t even seen vulnerable, regarding him. Not really. You didn’t know his name, his family, his backstory or anything else that truly mattered. All you knew was which buttons to push and it would make him slap you. You had his age. And his sexual preferences. You knew he had some kind of dangerous job, but you had no idea what it was about. And you knew he was twisted.

Utterly and entirely twisted.

But you saw none of that as you watched him sleep. All you saw was a handsome man, the most handsome man you had ever seen, even with the faint trace of a scar on his cheek. You still hated the sight of it. Not because it would have done anything to his attractiveness. No, he was very obviously still perfect. It was the fact that he got hurt.

Someone hurt him.

You were surprised just by how angry the thought made you. He was always so confident. It was his choice to either be angry and take it out on you or to be gentle and spoil you with affection and gifts. But it was his choice. He was the man. He was in charge. He was the epitome of strength.

And someone hurt him.

Him.

A part of you was almost tempted to think yours.

Someone hurt your man.

But you pushed the thought away just as quick as it came. He was hardly your man.

Your bane, your curse, your horror. Yes.

But not your man.

When he stirred slightly, you were pulled out of your thoughts. It didn’t take longer than a few seconds for him to blink his eyes open. When he finally looked up at you and met your gaze, a hint of surprise flashed over his features. But he schooled his expression into a soft smile effortlessly.

“Good morning, my little owl.” He purred. “You’re up early.” He raised a brow and smirked slowly. “Were you watching me sleep?”

Your face flushed, but you didn’t feel the need to deny it. It was pretty obvious anyway.

“I did.” You said quietly. “I couldn’t help it. You looked so…peaceful.”

He hummed softly and propped himself up on his elbows, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear with two fingers. “Peaceful? Doesn’t sound like me at all.”

He didn’t seem angry or even irritated that you watched him. If anything, he seemed amused or maybe even strangely flattered.

You shrugged.

“Have you been up for long?”

You shook your head.

He frowned slightly and held your chin in his hand, brushing his thumb over your skin in a gentle way. “You didn’t sleep well. You look like you didn’t sleep at all.”

You averted your gaze. What could you possibly tell him? That you spent all night, asking yourself not if, but when he would finally snap and snap your neck the same?

“Look at me.”

You hesitated, but eventually you met his gaze again. His expression was one of thoughtfulness and curiosity and you knew you had to give him something. He wouldn’t stop pestering you otherwise. You thought for a moment, before you finally gave up. You didn’t trust your ability to lie to him. He would see right through it and punish you for trying to deceive him.

“It’s about last night.” You murmured quietly.

His eyes narrowed slightly, but eventually he relaxed his expression and let go of your chin. With a soft sigh, he murmured back: “Was it too much for you? Too rough?”

You thought about the best possible way to answer this. Eventually you came up with something you would have hoped would be the perfect solution. “I’m still ashamed.”

“Ashamed?” He frowned.

“Because a part of me enjoys it.”

He hummed softly. “We talked about this, sweet girl, but I’ll say it again and again. You have nothing to be ashamed about. First of all, it’s not your fault you turned out like this.”

“That’s kind of the problem.” It wasn’t a lie. Not entirely. It did bother you. Just that the life threatening thing was worse. “I feel like you enjoy what we do, because you simply enjoy it. And I think I enjoy it, because I feel the constant need to get hurt and degraded, because of…because of what happened to me.”

He regarded you with a long, thoughtful look. His eyes softened somewhat and he was back. The man who supposedly cared about you came back, after a long, rough night. He sighed and rolled over so that he was on his back and staring at the ceiling. All the while he stretched out his arm and pulled you along, curling you into his side. He didn’t look at you as he spoke and his tone of voice was almost emotionless.

You couldn’t tell if you preferred this over the anger. Probably not.

“Did I ever tell you about my father?”

You froze. What? No. He hadn’t ever told you anything about himself that mattered. Let alone his family. As far as you were concerned, he didn’t even have a father.

But all you managed was a small, breathless shake of your head.

He hummed softly and played with your hair as he spoke, still keeping his voice cool and measured. He never met your gaze. Almost like he couldn’t. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to appear nonchalant or if he truly didn’t care. You hoped for the first one.

“My father had some creative ways of punishment.” He hummed. Oh, God. “Similar to your mother, I might think. Just more blood. And a few…other things.”

You held your breath as he spoke, feeling utterly sick. The fact that he had so subtly and smoothly threatened your life last night was suddenly the last thing on your mind.

“Don’t get me wrong, sweetness. I was always a little different from other boys my age. I wasn’t interested in the things the others were. I liked different things. Darker things. But I’m pretty sure, had it not been for my father…” He hummed. “He did some nasty things. Really nasty. And not only to me. To my mother as well.” He turned to face you fully, while you still lay frozen and staring at him with bated breath. All the while he caressed your face and spoke in this soft voice, like he was reading from a children’s book. It was eerie. “That might be one of the reasons why I am always in control.” He smiled briefly. “Especially sexually.”

You just kept staring at him. He hadn’t said it outright and he probably never would, but you could tell there was something. Something dark and terrible, something that still haunted him, even after all these years. And it made you sick to the core. The fact that his father, his own father, had hurt him, it made you feel nauseous. And especially, angry.

“So, I should probably be grateful to him, don’t you think?”

You knew you weren’t supposed to say anything to that, anything about that at all. No matter how terrible you felt, no matter how badly you wished to comfort him. He would get angry, because he would think of it as pity. You were sure. But you still had to say it.

“Your father is a sick man.” You said quietly. “And you didn’t deserve whatever he did to you.”

“Oh, I’m aware, my sweet, darling girl.” His face lit up in a soft smile. “I was just a boy. A twisted one, maybe. But still a boy.”

It made you feel as uneasy, as you felt relieved about it. At least he acknowledged it. He had no fault in his father’s cruelty. At least not back then.

And at least there was something. A tiny reminder that he was human, that he was real, that there was something akin to flesh and blood that made him similar to you. Not the fact that it had happened. Oh no, you would have changed it, were you in the power to. You would have bled and suffered, if only it meant to free him from the burden of his past.

No, but the thought that he told you about it. He had a father. A mother. A family. He had a childhood. A life. He was real.

You lay in silence for a long while. Of course you wanted to say more, to comfort him and hug him. To kiss away the fear he had probably felt as a little boy. You wanted to take him in your arms and make him whole again, puzzle him together until he got reunited with the love he was so desperately missing all his life. What about his mother? You asked yourself. But you thought now wasn’t the best time to ask. You didn’t want to risk making him angry, when he wasn’t so far. He hadn’t ever shared as much of himself. You didn’t want to say anything. And, you suddenly realized, you were afraid to pressure him.

So you said the next best thing. In the silent hope, that one day he’d trust you enough to let you in.

“I’m sorry that happened to you.” You said very softly. His head perked up and his expression softened. No anger in sight.

“My sweet, caring girl. The ghosts of my past are no more than that. And don’t you worry. I got my revenge.”

You bit your lip and rolled onto your side, facing him properly. The thoughtfulness in your eyes turned into something else the longer you looked at him, a mixture of concern and gentleness. He didn’t seem to mind. He let you stare without interrupting your thoughts. It was a peaceful, comfortable silence.

“How did you get your revenge?” You asked quietly, before you could stop yourself.

He smirked and stretched out his arms behind his head.

“I killed him.”

A part of you had suspected as much. But another part of you, the naïve little girl that you somehow still were, felt horrified. He killed his own father. And yet, that other part of you whispered softly in the back of your mind.

Did you expect anything else?

You thought back to your mother. Had you ever had a gun in the wrong moment-

No. Never. You couldn’t kill anyone. Not even a fucking fly. You were the type of person to chase them out of the window, instead of crushing them.

It wasn’t enough to calm you down and he seemed to notice.

“Are you alright, sweet girl?”

You were going to die anyway. Why not speak freely at least?

Forget his father. He’s dead. But you’re not. Not yet at least.

“You scared me last night.”

His brows furrowed. “When we-“

“No.” You said in a soft tone and slowly sat up, wrapping the sheets around your body. “I mean, yes. Kind of. But that’s not the problem. You scared me when you said…when you said you would kill me if I gave you a reason to.” Your expression and your tone of voice were almost child-like. Innocent and curious, not at all trying to guilt-trip him. Just a girl, scared for her life. Her sanity.

Herself.

“Oh, sweet girl.” He said softly as he sat up as well. He reached out to pull you on his lap, but you pulled back. He frowned, but he didn’t protest.

“I was simply-“

“What could get me killed?”

It was so sharp, so matter-of-fact, that it made him pause for a moment. He looked genuinely caught off-guard, like he never expected him to ask him such a question. And like he wasn’t sure how to answer it.

“What?”

“What could I say or do that would make you kill me?” You asked in a soft voice. Your heart was pounding wildly in your chest, but you tried to stay strong. You needed to get a point across. You needed to know.

He thought for a moment, before he leaned back and narrowed his eyes in a thoughtful frown.

“Another man.”

Cheating. As if you really were anything to each other, right?

Such a normal thing. People got killed over cheating all the time, didn’t they?

Or did they really?

“Another man.” You whispered. “Okay. What else?”

He hummed softly. “If you left me.”

“If I left you?” You meant it in a way as if saying; how would I be supposed to leave you? There aren’t even fucking windows here.

He nodded. “When you leave me, you’re no longer my girl. And I don’t have a reason to keep you alive, if you’re not.”

You swallowed thickly. How very refreshing. He was being honest at least. Wasn’t that what you wanted? And you didn’t know if this was better or worse. You had expected as much.

“Anything else?” You whispered hoarsely.

“No.”

Your brows shot up in surprise. “No? If I don’t cheat on you or leave you, you won’t-“

“No.” He said again, in that infuriating, calm tone.

“And if I insulted you?” You couldn’t stop yourself from asking. “If I hurt you? If I-“

“Don’t get me wrong.” The menacing bastard was back. “You don’t get to trample on me, sweet girl. In fact, you know what happens, if you do all that. You’ll get punished. And that didn’t change.” He narrowed his eyes further.

He took a long breath to calm himself and finally said: “I just didn’t want you to be terrified for no reason. I’m sure there are a few more things you can do that will definitely get you killed. So, try not to push my buttons too much. Don’t experiment. Don’t think you get any kind of power. All you are is my girl. Mine. Mine to use. Mine to torment as I please. You’re my plaything. My toy.” He got angrier with every word and you were sure, more than sure, you had done something terribly wrong.

“Mine to use however I see fit.” He gritted out. “Because that’s all you are to me.”

Every word stabbed a wound deeper and deeper into your soul. He didn’t love you. You weren’t an idiot. But a part of you had hoped, hoped so desperately, that you were anything more to him. Anything of meaning. Anything he cared about. Anything he thought about and smiled, when he went off to his mysterious workplace. Anything at all.

But you weren’t. You were his plaything. His fucktoy. His doll.

His girl.

Your face burned in shame and your guts churned painfully. You slowly looked down at your hands and folded them in your lap, while you kept the blanket pulled up to your chin.

“I wasn’t-“

“Yes, you were.” He hissed and roughly pulled your chin up, to make you look at him. “Did you hear me? You’re nothing more than a thing for me to use, a doll, something to dress up in a pretty dress and take my anger out on. Did you get that through your goddamn, thick skull? You’re nothing. Nothing at all.” He spat out.

At this point, you felt indeed like he had stabbed you. The knife was still there on the carpet by the bed. How very reckless. You could have stabbed him last night, didn’t he think about that? No, he was tired or maybe he just trusted himself to have broken you enough not to ever hurt him.

It was true. You wouldn’t ever hurt him. Not like that. That one punch was as far as it could go.

And now, as you sat there and listened to his cruel words, a small part of you suddenly wished he hadn’t bluffed, hadn’t used the knife as a way to find relief in his twisted mind. A part of you wished you weren’t there, to listen to his cruel reminders. The reminder that you were nothing.

Nothing at all.

You felt your hands shake, just the same second your lip quivered.

He was so angry, so furious, he hardly even recognized your presence. He wanted to make some point known.

You understood it now.

He would never love you.

But you? It was too late for you. You already loved him. And he was breaking your heart.

All your life you thought that couldn’t happen to you. You always assumed you were far too numb for these things.

A tear rolled down your cheek and you stared firmly down at your lap. Your hands were shaking furiously and your body shook with the sobs you choked back.

By the time he looked up again and saw the state you were in, his anger immediately disappeared. Something akin to horror took its place instead. He rushed forward without even thinking about it and held your arms tightly, tilting his head down below and staring up at you, to make you look at him.

“Wait.” He said quickly. “Wait. I didn’t mean it.”

You were stuck between pushing him away and letting him console you. But you knew there was probably nothing that could ever bring you back. Your heart, already broken and bruised, had just somehow been pieced back together by him, only for him to crush it again under the palm of his hand, under the cruelty of his words, under the weight of his actions.

You decided to push him back instead. At least for once, you tried to keep a semblance of dignity. It was a lost cause, but it meant something to you.

He let out a surprised exhale, but quickly rushed forward again, trying to get ahold of you, but this time, you struggled.

“Get off of me!”

“No, you need to listen to me!”

“No! No, get the hell off!”

“You need to listen!”

You struggled even harder and pushed him back, clawed at his skin and within seconds you found yourself in the middle of a physical fight. So far, he hadn’t tried to slap you or bring you to your senses anyhow, he just tried to make you focus. And when you hit against his chest or pushed him back by his shoulders, when you scratched his arms and pulled on his hair, he let you. Without retaliating. He let you.

You were just waiting for him to snap. A part of you might even have been hoping to get some kind of reaction out of him, because he had just hurt you so terribly. But he didn’t.

And when you pushed him back against the mattress, he let you.

And when you straddled his lap, he let you.

He even let you intertwine your fingers and press his hands against the bed.

He just let you.

You stopped struggling. Stopped fighting him and stopped trying to provoke anything.

You were on top him, your hair falling over your shoulders and framing your face like a waterfall. Everything else was suddenly gone. All that there was left were him and you. He stared up at you, his eyes wide and his expression one of quiet fascination. Of course he allowed you to take control. After all, all it needed was a tiny bit of strength from him and he’d have you pinned to the floor. But this time, he didn’t. He didn’t protest, didn’t fight back, didn’t even flinch. He allowed you to take the lead. He allowed you to take control of him.

When the thought hit you, you nearly choked on the air you breathed. And you breathed, heavily and quickly, until your breaths mingled into one. You leaned further down, so close that the tip of your nose almost touched his. His chest rose and fell quickly. You could tell, even though you kept your focus on his face.

“You meant it.” You whispered breathlessly.

He stared at you with his mouth slightly agape and then he slowly shook his head. “You’re more.” He whispered back.

More than a toy?

More than a doll?

More than just his girl?

You didn’t want to believe it. You didn’t allow yourself to hope, because if you did, the next time he crushed it, it would be ever harder for you to find back to yourself. And did you really want to risk that?

You shook your head, ready to come up with the next bitter, biting response, when his words caught you off-guard.

“You’re not only mine”, he said quietly. “I’m also yours.”

God, this was confusing. And slowly you felt yourself get as dizzy and nauseous as you would have on a rollercoaster. You hated rollercoasters, because you were afraid of them. You hated them, because you never went on one.

“You’re two people at once.” You whispered breathlessly. “How do I know, when your evil twin will be back?”

He smiled slowly. Even now, even when you felt heartbroken and furious, his smile meant so much to you. It made everything seem beautiful. Everything was easier. Nothing hurt.

Until it did.

“I know.” He whispered. “Maybe you could try and put him in his place, every once in a while.”

You stared at him with wide eyes. Did he really allow you to take control? Just like that? Was it a trick? Was it a game? A joke? Something even more evil he’d come up with?

Whatever it was, you were dying to find out. Because you were sure, you’d get punished anyway. So, why not make use of it?

You took a shaky breath and leaned further down, so close, until your lips almost touched.

“You really didn’t mean it?” You asked in the ghost of a whisper.

His gaze briefly wandered down to your lips, before he looked into your eyes again.

“No.” He whispered back. “Not even I am that dense.”

That nearly made you smile.

But just nearly.

Instead you did something else. You leaned further down, until your lips finally touched his. The kiss was feather-light and hesitant. The touch was so gentle, that you caught yourself asking yourself in your head, if it really was the same man.

He was letting you kiss him. He didn’t try anything. Didn’t try to part your lips or pull you closer. Didn’t try to push your legs apart. His hands were still motionless under yours, all that he did was slowly caress the back of your hands with his fingers.

He participated in the kiss. He kissed you back, obviously. But all he did was mirror your touch.

You were in control.

You gasped against his lips. You had no idea what to do. It felt odd. Maybe even wrong. The only things you had ever fantasized about were to get controlled by someone else.

Controlled by him.

And for you to control him, it sounded like an impossible endeavor. It felt like one, even more. But there you were. On his lap. Slowly guiding the pace.

You swallowed thickly.

“I don’t know what to do.” You whispered into the kiss.

He hummed very quietly. “Imagine I’m the good twin.” He whispered back and pulled back just enough to look at your face. “There is no right or wrong. Just do whatever feels good.”

You bit your lip as you watched him closely. It could still be a trick. But in the back of your mind, you knew it wasn’t. It was an attempt to heal you. Heal him as well, maybe. You were both damaged. Both two fragments, incomplete and alone. Was it possible that you could heal each other?

It sounded strange in your head. You wanted to be controlled. And he survived off the feeling of being in control. But maybe, just maybe, this was what you both needed. A role reverse. A chance to grow. A chance to connote. Just this once.

To become one, whole thing.

You took a deep, shaky breath and brushed your lips over his. You were still nervous. But you tried to do what he said. Just do whatever feels good.

And maybe it would.

You hesitantly, almost shyly, ran the tip of your tongue along his lower lip. His reaction surprised you. He moaned. You really expected him to get off on nothing but cruelty and violence. But somehow the feeling of you, of being with you, in any way, seemed to be enough.

You needed to try it. The shift. The control. Even just this once.

You slowly parted his lips with your tongue and yours met his in a timid, careful movement. He was still the one guiding you. But the biggest reason was, that you had no idea what you were doing. But he was holding himself back. You were on top, pressed against him.

He was yours.

Your man. Your psychopath. Maybe even your lover.

The kiss went on and your movements became more and more confident. You didn’t actually care what you were doing, as long as you heard the soft moans he tried to suppress. And every time he did, you couldn’t help but moan, too. Your tongues tangled in a sinful dance and you slowly slid your fingertips over his wrists and up his arms. Until you eventually reached his shoulders. His neck. His hair. His cheek. His chin.

You hadn’t realized how quickly you were breathing. All the time you expected him to push you away, to reject you, to stop you. But he never did.

Your hand stilled against his face and you pulled your head back to look at him. To see if he was going to stop you. Mock you. Hurt you some more.

But his expression was more earnest than you had ever seen before. You could see the way his throat bobbed slightly as he swallowed and the small, tiny frown of focus on his face. He looked much more mature in that moment than he usually did. When he wore that twisted smile, he looked younger. Carefree. But in that moment, he looked like a man who had seen life.

And death.

And taken a part in it.

He slowly parted his lips, when your fingers stilled against them, inviting you. Your mouth fell open and you inhaled sharply as you felt his tongue dart out.

“God, what are you-“ You stopped yourself and instead released the softest moan, when he ran his tongue along your index finger. His hand gently circled your wrist and he pressed his lips against the back of your hand. Your knuckles. And eventually each finger.

You watched him in awe, realizing you were only ever falling deeper for him.

What was it with that man that you loved him so much, despite all the pain he put you through?

Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore. The watching, the silence. You squeezed his hand and your head dipped forward. Your lips found his neck and you made a point of kissing each and every spot of skin you found on the way. His eyes fell shut and he took a shaky breath.

“No.” He whispered. “Wait.”

You immediately froze, expecting the inevitable rejection. But instead, he bit his lip and slowly slid his hands under your nightdress. The calloused skin of his palms ran up your back and he gently slid the material up, until he finally managed to pull it over your head and onto the ground. His gaze wandered from your face, down to your neck, where it lingered and eventually further down to your breasts and your stomach.

“God.” He whispered breathlessly. “God, you’re perfect.” He bit his lip again and met your gaze. “Let me worship you.”

A shiver ran down your spine and you tilted your head to the side, only to feel his lips brush along your earlobe and eventually over your neck. You closed your eyes and sighed softly. It was the best feeling in the world.

His lips caressed your neck and his tongue occasionally darted out, drawing a moan from your lips. He moved with devilish slowness, a torturous pace, slow enough to make you melt into a puddle of desire on top of him. A part of you almost wanted to beg him. Beg him to go faster, to touch you harder, to take you. But you didn’t. Because another part of you wanted to savor every second of this.

When you felt the wet heat of his mouth move lower and embrace the sensitive skin of your breast, you felt your eyes roll back in your head. The sigh that came over your lips was more of a moan. You gently buried your fingers in his hair and played with it. Every time his tongue slipped out to run over the curve of your breast, you felt your hips press down against his own on pure instinct. You felt how hard he was, painfully so. But he didn’t press his hips up against you, he didn’t even try once. He was skilled at ignoring his own need, when he wanted to. He made you feel like a princess. Like all that mattered in the world were you.

You squirmed and shuddered when he moved underneath you, brushing his tongue down a wet path on your stomach.

His hands encircled the back of your thighs and he held you firmly, his fingers gently digging into your skin. And he moved. Lower and lower. Until you felt his hot breath kiss the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. A soft whimper left you and you bit your lip to keep yourself from begging. He was going to give you whatever you wanted. Today, there was no need to beg.

He slowly but firmly pushed your legs apart, and settled in-between them, still lying on his back and ignoring his own ache. He shot you a pointed look, before he finally stuck out his tongue and rolled it over the warm wetness of your need.

“Oh, God.”

He hit every right spot at the first try and you could no longer stay silent. His grip on your thighs tightened and he silently encouraged you to move. Move. Take what you want.

You swallowed a shaky moan and began to tentatively move your hips. It didn’t take long for you to figure out how it worked, how you had to move. It was so easy and the pleasure rolled over you like a warm bath.

“Oh, God.” You whispered again, tightening your hand in his hair.

He did the most sinful things, sliding his tongue inside you and pulling it back out, running it along every spot, embracing your center of pleasure with his warm lips and it felt like Heaven. He knew where to kiss, where to lick, where to suck and where to flick his tongue. He knew everything. And in that moment, you didn’t care one bit about where he gained that knowledge.

Because he used it on you.

And he’d be using it on your for as long as you were his girl.

And you wanted to be his girl for the rest of your life.

“Yes. There. Right there.” You gasped out, moving your hips again and silently begging him to continue, to give you what you wanted, to give you him.

And he did nothing less than that. He kissed you like he’d kiss your lips, he tightened his grip, he didn’t let you back away. His mouth was firmly attached to your body, eager to give you everything you wanted. Letting you ride yourself to bliss.

Which was exactly what you did. You didn’t even realize it, by how suddenly it happened, but your release rolled over you like a flash of lightning. It felt more intense than ever. You felt everything deeply and he didn’t stop, until he was sure, you were entirely spent and satisfied.

You were still gasping for air, when he finally released his grip on you and looked up at you with a soft expression.

You stared at him, trying to catch your breath. All you wanted was to say something, anything, but no words came over your lips. All you managed was the gentle touch of your palm against his cheek. He smiled slowly and covered your hand with his own. Then he slowly moved back up, so that you’d straddle his lap again.

“How was that?” He whispered.

“Fuck.” Was all that you managed.

A low laugh rumbled in his chest, but no trace of mockery. Just satisfaction and a tad bit of pride. You forgave him. You would have forgiven him anything.

“Can I?” You finally whispered. You needed to know, if you were still in control.

He smirked. He looked so confident. Just like you always knew him. Confident and strong. In control. And yet…

“I’m all yours, baby. Ride me.”

You bit your lip. Your face flushed the tiniest bit, but you nodded. Now, this was making you really nervous. You had seen videos, but were you able to do it yourself?

Why not? You thought. Why not?

You leaned down and captured his lips in a kiss. Still slow and sensual, but you poured all the passion you felt for him in that kiss. And he responded in kind. He didn’t try to take control of your mouth. Instead he moaned against your lips, every time your tongue brushed against his. He ran a hand down your back and squeezed your behind firmly in his hand.

“Fuck, I need you to ride me or I’m going to die.” He groaned as he bit your lip. You responded with another moan. You still felt his hardness press against you, hard and ready and needy.

God, the thought alone. The thought that he wanted you that much. It drove you insane.

You swallowed thickly and carefully ran a hand down his chest, down his stomach, down his waist, until-

You smiled. You missed his throbbing, aching need and brushed your fingers gently along his thigh instead.

He glared up at you, a hint of desperation behind the repressed anger.

“I should have known this would come.” He hissed.

Your smile widened into a grin, as you teasingly caressed his side instead.

“What? I’m just doing what you do.”

He released a frustrated growl.

“You-“

“Come on.” You whispered. “Let me have this. Just this once.”

He was still frustrated, but the look in his eyes softened the tiniest bit.

“But I want you.” He murmured and you swallowed.

“How much?” You whispered. God, this was fun.

“How much?” He asked incredulously. “Can’t you feel how much?”

You hummed in the same way he normally would. So innocent. So devilish.

“Paint a picture with your words.”

He exhaled sharply. But eventually he calmed down and wrapped his arms around you gently.

“I need to be inside of you or I’m going to die. I’m going to die, I mean it.”

“Keep going.” You whispered. “Talk to me.” While you spoke, you shifted slightly on his lap, gently grinding down on him and letting him feel you. Just enough to make you gasp, not enough for him to enter you yet.

He bit his lip, almost hard enough to draw blood.

“I want to feel you.” He murmured. “I want to fuck you. I want to be one with you. And I fucking want to cum inside you.”

A shiver ran down your spine and you sighed.

“Keep going.” You responded in a breathless whisper, as you ground down against him again. The friction was enough for your both to snap your eyes shut.

“I want you to cum.” He whispered back. “I want you to cum so hard, that it’ll make you cry.”

“Fuck.” You whispered breathlessly and buried your face in his neck. “Fuck, yes.”

You swallowed again and pulled your head back up, enough to rest your forehead against his.

“Let me move then?” You whispered. “Please?”

He bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. “But fucking get to it.”

You released a shaky sigh. You kept your forehead pressed against his and stared into his eyes, intense and deep, while you slowly spread your legs further. You shifted again, your movements a little awkward and insecure, but eventually you felt him press up against you and you felt his tip press against your entrance. And then you slowly lowered yourself down onto his lap. You felt him fill you, but it happened so slowly that you felt every bit of it. And all the time you kept your gaze fixed on his eyes. His reaction. Every moan, every sigh, every twitch. All of it was enough to make you moan in return. You slowly lowered yourself further down, until you felt him all the way. And when you did…You didn’t move. You stayed like that. Just feeling. Just feeling all of him.

And the look in his eyes was worth it.

You had never seen him this soft, this vulnerable before. Not even when he told you about his father. His eyes were softer than ever before and you suddenly realized; you had never seen him this needy. This desperate to feel you. You were sure, just a second more and he would either take control or beg you. But you couldn’t let that happen.

It was his first time to let someone else take control after all.

And you couldn’t have him begging. You couldn’t have him do anything that would make him feel ashamed, when he was so unabashedly doing everything in order to make you happy.

So finally you moved. Slowly and carefully, very unsure still. But you moved. And he moaned. And he moved. And you moaned.

You had never felt him this deep before, this hard, this raw.

“Ride me.” He whispered breathlessly. “Ride daddy’s cock, baby.”

Your face flushed even more, but all you could focus on were his words. You movements became more forceful, more frantic, more desperate. And as hard as he tried not to move at all, it was simply impossible. He pressed his hips up against you, letting you feel him, so hard and God, so desperate.

“Yes. Yes, babygirl, just like that. Let daddy fill you up.” He groaned out.

With every thrust, every move, you felt yourself get closer yet again. It felt like a fantasy.

“Yes. Yes, my sweet girl, my baby, my darling, my love-“

His eyes widened frantically. He panicked. You could tell. So did you. On the inside. But on the outside, you pretended. You pretended all you could, that you hadn’t heard it.

The L-word.

The word that nearly broke you.

No, you hadn’t heard it. He had never said it. It was just a slip-up. A simple mistake. Nothing to get hot and bothered about.

When he realized you didn’t react, he slowly calmed down again and tightened his grip on your hips. His own movements became more and more desperate, until he was pounding into you from underneath.

“Fuck, yes. Cum for me, my babygirl. Cum for me, my darling. Take every drop of my cum.”

His words were enough to drive you over the edge. With a sharp inhale, a breathless moan, you felt your own orgasm hit you again. And he went over the edge right with you.

Your lips just an inch apart and your eyes fixed on each other.

Deep.

And raw.

“Yes.” He growled. “Oh God, yes. Fuck, yes. My girl. My girl, my...” His voice cracked and he came with a roar. He pushed his hips against you with a fervor that nearly left you bruised from the inside and it made your release drag on and on, until you felt you were about to take off to the sky.

It took you a few seconds, but when you both finally came back down from your high, you realized you were still staring into each other’s eyes. You mouth slightly agape and gasping for air, your brows furrowed and your bodies still connected in the most intimate way. You didn’t want him to withdraw yet. You wanted to feel his release run along your thighs. You wanted to feel dirty like that and at the same time you wanted something else entirely.

Stay close.

Stay together.

My love.

The word kept echoing through your mind like a poem, like a curse.

Like a death warrant.

My love.

He buried his hand in your hair and gently tugged on it.

“That…was…”

You had never seen him speechless before. The sight stirred so much in you.

You idiot girl. He hurt you, he hurt you so terribly and all you wanted right now was him beside you, at all times, maybe with a ring on your finger and a baby in your belly.

God, you were just as insane as he was. Probably even more so.

He was a psychopath. What was your excuse?

You tried to distract yourself from your thoughts and so you decided to take control a last time. Your head dipped forward and you kissed him. With a tenderness that made your heart ache. And he responded. With a softness that left you breathless.

My love.

Half an hour later, you finally managed to get your hands off of each other. After you finished your bathroom routine, he invited you to the shower with him. You’d join him in a minute, you decided, while you were on your way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Your mouth felt dry, your whole body did actually.

You felt sore as hell, but God. God.

The memory of it made you smile. You had never felt more loved in your life. Never felt more special, more desired, more…

A sound made you snap out of your thoughts and you looked up from the ground. What you saw made your heart stop.

The door.

The fucking door.

You mind went blank and your heart stopped beating.

The fucking door was open.

You swallowed thickly. Was it a test? Probably. Did you consider leaving?

You took a deep breath and slowly stepped into the hallway. The front door was open and there was that visitor’s terrace with a glass door attached to it, which led to the great staircase of the apartment complex.

It was a test. Or something equally cruel.

But what if it wasn’t?

What if he truly made a mistake? He was only human after all.

You stared at the glass door like you would have stared at an alien.

This was probably your only ever chance. To flee. Escape.

Get back to…

To what?

To normality, you told yourself.

To safety.

A lump formed in your throat. Did you want that? Did you even want to leave?

Even if it wasn’t a test, did you truly want to leave him?

The thought left a bitter taste in your mouth. It almost felt like acid and it weighed like a heavy stone on your heart. The thought of sleeping alone again, of never seeing his silly smile again. Even the twisted one, you’d miss.

The thought of never feeling his lips on yours again.

His hands in your hair, his voice in your ear.

His everything.

Him.

You were his girl.

You couldn’t just up and leave. What was there in the world for you?

Maybe this was exactly your destiny. Him. Him. Him.

He was all you needed, right? He took care of you. He provided for you.

He loved you. In his own, twisted way.

My love.

You couldn’t, you decided. You couldn’t leave. You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t ever-

The sound of someone’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts, but to your horror, it wasn’t him. Your eyes widened impossibly when you saw the form of a man approaching.

He looked like a janitor or something like that. A man far past his prime with greying hair and a kind smile.

God, you had missed kindness.

But no, no, you were his girl. You were his girl. You wouldn’t ever leave.

You took a step back like a cornered animal as the man approached and said something to you in Korean. When you backed away even more, he stopped and his eyes widened in surprise.

He kept talking to you, kept speaking in that reassuring tone of voice.

“I…don’t…understand.” You breathed out.

You didn’t even realize how you must have looked, terrified and broken. A faint mark on your cheek. Your clothes crumpled. Bite marks, love bites, more marks on your throat.

He frowned slightly and tilted his head to the side.

“Miss-“ He said in a thick, Korean accent. “Miss- The man that’s live here- The man- Is he-“

In that moment, you felt it. His presence was so prominent, you didn’t need to hear him call out to you. You just felt it. He came in, a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair wet from the shower. He most likely came to look why you hadn’t come yet.

You quickly spun around and met his gaze, your expression horrified. Your eyes were so expressive.

The door was open. He came by himself. It wasn’t my fault. Please! It wasn’t my fault!

Something hard flashed through his eyes, but it was only visible to you and it was only there for the blink of an eye. And then it was gone and it got replaced by the tight smile.

A tight, polite smile, directed at the janitor in the doorway. He spoke to him in Korean and stepped closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You stared at the ground, completely horrified.

Oh no, you thought.

Oh no. This is it.

_____________________________

Tag list: @mitsuki-dreamfree @kpopsmutty69 @heroine-chique @vkeyy @mizuwki @blu-brrys @z0mbi345 @yourpointbreak @ayieayee @freddyzeppsworld @lola11111111 @indifitel6661 @salesmanlover08 @laurenbenoit70 @lalalaa2210 @lila-marshal @auspicious-lilana @0-aubrie0 @lovelyaegyo @theredvelvetbitch @violentbluess @muriels-lover @dorayakissu @eviebuggg @muchwita @ririgy @strxlemon @obsessedwthdilfs @kiwilov3 @misty-q @whitefeathers @ennvfv @heartzxx @yourpointbreak @hell0kittt @salesmanlover08 @pascalislove @nina357 @ing9449myu @vamplivivi @tvbais @ilovenana00 @misswannadiesworld @glads-stuff @chunkzdeluluwife @estreiiuh @lokis-lovely-muse @zaimeskuna @lalalaa2210 @i-might-be-vanny @cupidzslvt @k1ra-park3r @vyladsgirl @jayyourbabe @yeaiamme2 @babyscilence @abcde-12345dorito @madzpm @o9sessions @dilfismz @idenack @sunburngal @prettysatoru @newtscreatures347269 @4j4ax @yru3xme @rafecamsgirlll @recordofragnarokfan2 @hayakamis-blog @kttb @fictionalmen-dilflover @puddingknows @wanderlustingcastaway @magicseahorse @everwhovian @savemyheart101 @beebeechaos

@hayakamis-blog Thank you for your lovely request, I loved the idea and I hope it turned out the way you hoped!

Author's note: I'll be honest with you, guys, this chapter cost me YEARS of my life, omg. I wrote 5000 words yesterday and then realized I didn't like what I was writing, so I deleted everything and did this today instead. I hope it was the right decision! On a super exhausted note, I'll try to answer all of your sweet, lovely messages in time!!! I'm not even exaggerating, a few of them really made me cry. Not almost, but for real. I don't know what I did to deserve all this kindness and love, but I really, really love you all! SO much!

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hanniebaeee · 1 day ago

Text

Disagreements

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: kisses? Other than that, nothing!

Genre: established relationship, fluff, angst

Summary: Hyunjin misses an event important to you, and an argument ensues. He says something he didn't mean, and he'd do anything for your forgiveness!

You stormed into the apartment, throwing your bag on the kitchen counter. The door shut behind you with an audible thud, and you heard Hyunjin sigh before he opened it and stepped inside.

“Baby, I said I was sorry!” he exclaimed, his voice tinged with a mix of frustration and desperation.

“Hyunjin, do you even know what you’re apologizing for?” you snapped, crossing your arms and glaring at him.

“For -” He gestured vaguely at the air between you, eyes darting everywhere but your face. “For not being there?”

“You stood me up, Hyunjin! You missed a work event I’ve been talking about for months - one I explicitly told you was important to me!” Your voice cracked, and you hated yourself for it. “It wasn’t just any event - it was my event, and you didn’t show.”

Hyunjin’s shoulders slumped, his hand running through his hair in a frantic motion.

“I didn’t mean to, okay? I thought my shoot would -”

“Your shoot? Oh my God, why is everything literally about you all the fucking time?! You couldn't have made it work, for just once?!” Your anger boiled over. “Do you have any idea how…of course you wouldn't, because I am always there. I never leave you hanging. And you just take me for granted-”

He winced, his lips parting to speak, but nothing came out. Instead, he scratched the back of his neck, eyes darting around like he was searching for a hidden escape hatch.

Hyunjin usually got away with everything. He was so used to being babied by you that this sudden outburst was scaring the hell out of him. And he really didn't have an idea how to work with it.

“God, you’re impossible,” you muttered, turning away. “You don't even try, do you?”

Hyunjin stiffened. Because now that wasn't true. He tried. He really did.

“Is that what you think?” His words rushed out so fast, he couldn’t stop. “You really think i don't try? Oh my God! How could you say that?!”

“You proved me right, Hyunjin!”

“Babe, this was one time -”

“It's literally always-”

“If that's how you feel then maybe you should just break up with me.”

You froze, a tear trickling down your cheek. And the silence was suffocating.

Hyunjin blinked, looking absolutely shocked. His eyes went wide as if he had only just registered what he said.

“No, wait, no -” His voice cracked. “That’s not - oh my God, I didn’t mean -”

And the sight of you staring at him with wide, tear-filled eyes - your lower lip trembling - killed him.

You said nothing. Nothing. And that? That was Hyunjin’s undoing.

“Oh my God,” he gasped, his face contorting as he covered his mouth with both hands. “Oh no. No, no, no, no, no.”

A sound escaped him, a weird mix between a sob and a wail, and before you could blink, he launched himself at you, wrapping you in his arms so tightly your face collided with his chest.

“I’m sorry!” he bawled, voice muffled against your hair. “I didn’t mean it - I swear I didn’t mean it. I’m such an idiot! Oh my God, baby please don't hate me! You’re perfect, and oh shit, this is a disaster -”

“Hyunjin -” you tried, voice muffled by his shirt.

“God, I hate myself!” he cried, pulling you even closer. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I said break up?! Who says that? Who even thinks that?”

His sobs grew louder, chest heaving against yours as he clutched you like you might disappear any moment.

“Hyunjin -” You sighed, hands moving to rub slow circles on his back. "Breathe, baby."

“I'm such a horrible person” he wailed, lifting his head to look at you with tear-soaked eyes. “You’re comforting me when I’m the one who hurt you! Why are you so nice?!”

You stared at him - this gorgeous, ridiculous golden retriever of a man standing in your kitchen and sobbing - and you couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up from your chest. It burst out of you, uncontrollable, even as tears welled in your eyes again.

Hyunjin froze, his brows furrowing.

"Are you laughing at me?” he asked, sniffing because his nose was running from all the crying.

“You're such an idiot!” you wheezed, clinging to his shoulders for balance.

“That’s not fair,” he whined, pouting as his bottom lip jutted out dramatically. “You’re supposed to be mad at me. I deserve it.”

“I was mad at you,” you said, calming enough to meet his gaze. “But then you just…baby stop crying, please, ‘cos now I don’t know whether to kiss you or roll my eyes forever.”

“Can you do both?” He sniffled, his pout softening into the faintest of smiles.

You reached up, cupping his tear-streaked face as you said, “You’re lucky I love you, you big baby.”

And before he could respond, you pulled him down, kissing him firmly enough to silence whatever self-deprecating comment was surely on the tip of his tongue.

When you pulled back, he gazed at you, eyes shining like you’d just handed him the moon.

“You hurt me, Jinnie, so yeah, you're still in trouble,” you said, arching a brow. “But maybe I’ll forgive you. Eventually.”

He beamed through his tears.

“Eventually sounds pretty sexy to me.” he said with a shrug.

“Don’t push your luck, Hwang.”

Hyunjin watched you closely as you got ready for bed. You can literally hear the gears turning in his head.

Hyunjin’s grin widened as your eyes met, the sparkle in his eyes returning with alarming speed. You climbed into bed narrowing your eyes because you just knew that this menace wasn't going to leave you alone till this whole fight was out of the way.

Hyunjin couldn't sleep through a conflict. You loved that about him, because any disagreement was sorted by bedtime and your home was so damn peaceful because of this one thing.

“So…you said eventually?” He asked as you settled on your side of the bed.

“I did-”

“So, if I kiss you a few more times -”

“If you think your soggy kisses are -” You didn't finish that sentence because he obviously attacked you right there.

“ - say, here” He leaned in, brushing his lips against the corner of your mouth. “and maybe here-”

His lips skimmed the edge of your jaw, lingering just enough to make you shiver

“Do I speed up the timeline?” he asked, and you really wanted to smack him across his gorgeous face. Oh you did. But also, you wanted to grab that very face and kiss him senseless.

So you bit back the smirk that was threatening to show up, tilting your head ever so slightly.

“Do you think flattery is going to work on me right now?” you asked.

“Not flattery, babe. Strategy.” His voice dipped into that low, teasing tone he knew you couldn’t resist, and his hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together.

You narrowed your eyes again, ignoring the way your pulse quickened.

“Hyunjin, seriously, your seduction strategy is just bullshit.”

His laughter rumbled against your chest.

“Okay, first of all, I personally think it's working just fine. And second, you’re dodging the question. Do I get forgiven faster if I make you feel like the goddess you are?”

His lips were already moving again, trailing slow, deliberate kisses down the side of your neck.

You tried, really tried, to maintain your composure, but his mouth found that spot just below your ear, and a traitorous little gasp escaped you.

“Jinnie -”

“Mmh?” He hummed innocently, his breath warm against your skin. His hands roamed lazily up your back, sliding under your shirt. “You were saying?”

“I was saying -” You inhaled sharply when his teeth grazed your earlobe. “You’re not getting off that easily.”

“Oh, trust me, I wouldn’t dream of getting off easily.” he chuckled, his lips curving into a devilish smirk. “But I can definitely make this more interesting.”

Leaning down, he nuzzles your nose like the puppy he was.

“I'm so sorry, angel. I tried. I really did. Even Chan hyung did. But some things are just not up to me…I hate that, and I know you don't deserve it. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” he said, his voice soft.

“I know baby…I know,” you whispered, your fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt. “And you're already working on it, so-”

“And how am I doing?” He tilted his head, eyes twinkling.

“You’re at a solid…” You pretended to think. “…six out of ten.”

“Six?!” His jaw dropped in mock offense. “After all that neck kissing? I’m hurt.”

You shrugged, biting back a grin. “Step it up, Hyunjinnie.”

“Oh, you asked for this,” he growled playfully, rolling you over so that you were under him in a second. You yelped, holding onto his shoulder tight.

He hovered over you, his hair falling into his face and his grin as wicked as ever.

“Ready to upgrade me to a ten?” he murmured, lips brushing against yours. “Because I'm going to grovel. And you're gonna wish I didn't.”

You laughed, looping your arms around his neck.

“Oh groveling sounds good.”

“Oh, baby,” he purred, closing the gap between you. “Challenge accepted.”

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic

#stray kids #skz #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x you #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin angst #skz fluff #skz x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader

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uncle-fruity · 1 day ago

Text

I organized a booth at my local pride where we gave out free water and did a pay-what-you-can art store to increase accessibility for poor people at Pride. We raised enough money to cover the cost of the booth AND the cost for the 2025 booth AND some.

I also helped organize, alongside some friends of mine, a bake sale to help our friends keep their home, which was being threatened with foreclosure. These were disabled trans folks who had fallen behind on payments because of lack of access to transportation, limiting their job opportunities. We didn't raise enough to fully pay stuff off, but we raised enough for at least one of their mortgage payments, which bought them some time & wasn't nothing.

My friends helped pay for me so I could take a road trip with them to visit our other friend who lived a couple of states away from us. I got to meet an online friend in the process, and we all went on a float trip and to a really cool museum and a great production of Much Ado About Nothing. It was a lot of fun and I got to hang out with a bunch of my old college friends.

I started the year with the intention to interact more with my friends and the general community and succeeded. I joined a comic maker's group and got two of my comics published in their anthologies. The local queer art group that I founded back in 2018 started having in person meetings again after we had to stop in 2020 due to covid. I made an effort to reach out to the people I care about more than I had been able to in past years. My socializing really improved and my goal to meet new people and foster relationships with already existing friends was a success!

I started going to the library more, and tbh learned a lot about the things they offer there and found some really interesting books that would have never occurred to me to look for in a book shop.

There were some bad things that happened, too. Bad things are inevitable when you're living in poverty and your local government couldn't give two shits about you or your neighbors. But the good outweighed the bad, and I felt that I contributed positive things to my community and that my community came through for me as well.

Despite everything, my sense of self worth has seriously improved. My life has significantly improved in the last two or three years because at some point I decided I wanted to be an active participant in it. There were several years where I was extremely depressed, bitter, and isolated. Years of burnout and anger brought on because I took the extremely difficult steps to stop talking to my abusive family. I struggled with everything and felt like very few people would be there for me if I fell through the cracks. But you know what? I came out on the other side. My friends proved my paranoia that no one loved me wrong. It's not all perfect and there's still plenty of difficulties that I face, but I am generally happier and healthier and kinder than I used to be, and that's huge.

I know things look bleak and hope can feel foolish sometimes in the face of great hardships, but finding joy is an action you must take upon yourself when you can. Even if all you can find are the little things. And when you can't, I hope you have people who love you to make it hurt less. I hope good things come your way soon. I hope good things come for all of us. Let's do our best to make it happen for ourselves and the people we love in 2025!

hey honest question, did anybody have GOOD stuff happen to them in 2024? cause it was really bad for me and for most people i know, so it would be nice to hear about anything that's been going WELL for any of you. even if it's small stuff. just to know there's light out there.

#about me #good things that happened #hope #showing up for people makes you feel good #showing up for yourself is also worth the effort

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lizziesangel · 2 days ago

Note

can you do one of high maintenance!reader being in sephora with rafe, and shes buying a looot of stuff and rafe its just "😧" with many things she 'needs'

ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴛʀɪᴘ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴘʜᴏʀᴀ

the sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting the apartment in a warm golden glow when you walked through the door, your face lit up with excitement.

“baby!” you called out, dropping your purse on the counter and hurrying into the living room where he was sprawled on the couch, scrolling through his phone.

he glanced up, immediately sitting straighter when he saw the grin on your face. “what’s got you all excited?”

you wiggled your fingers in front of his face, showing off your fresh set of nails. they were a soft almond shape, painted a sheer pink with delicate silver accents.

“look at these! aren’t they so pretty?” you gushed, turning your hands this way and that under the light.

rafe reached out, gently taking your hand to inspect them closer. “damn, those are way better,” he said, running his thumb over the smooth finish.

“they’re so perfect,” you continued, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet. “i think this might be my favorite set ever. and she even used this new top coat that makes them feel extra sturdy.”

he chuckled, shaking his head as he released your hand. “so that’s where my money went this week.”

“your money looks good on me,” you teased, holding your hand up to admire the shine again.

rafe leaned back on the couch, smirking as he watched you. “i mean, you’re not wrong. and if it makes you this happy, it’s worth every cent.”

“exactly!” you said, flopping down next to him and resting your head on his shoulder.

you stayed like that for a few minutes, your freshly done nails lightly drumming against his chest as you relaxed.

then, you sat up suddenly. “we need to go to the mall.”

rafe blinked at you, confused. “the mall? we were just there, like, three days ago.”

“yeah,” you said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “but my skincare’s almost empty, and i can’t risk running out. you know how important it is.”

he stared at you for a moment, his lips twitching like he was trying not to laugh. finally, he shook his head with a fond sigh. “all right, let’s go, princess.”

you beamed, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “you’re the best.”

“yeah, yeah,” he said, grabbing his keys. “just don’t make me carry all the bags this time.”

“no promises,” you teased, grabbing your purse as you practically skipped out the door.

rafe followed, watching you with a mixture of exasperation and amusement, though he couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips.

the bright lights of sephora illuminated shelves upon shelves of colorful products, from rows of lipsticks to aisles dedicated to serums and creams. you were in your element, basket in hand, flitting between displays with an excitement that made rafe both amused and slightly overwhelmed.

“this one is amazing,” you said, holding up a jar of moisturizer. “and this toner? total game changer.”

rafe trailed behind you, hands shoved in his pockets, his expression hovering between awe and disbelief. his eyes darted to the basket you were carrying—it was already full of little black-and-white bags, jars, and bottles.

“how do you even keep track of all this?” he asked, leaning down to inspect one of the products you’d tossed in. “what even is this?”

“it’s a clarifying mask,” you explained patiently, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “i’ve been wanting to try it for months.”

he raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, silently reminding himself of the promise he’d made weeks ago: he’d cover anything that made you happy—especially when it came to your skincare and beauty stuff.

still, as you added yet another serum to the basket, he couldn’t help but mutter, “you’re not restocking the bathroom. you’re restocking an entire store.”

you turned to him with a laugh, balancing the basket on your hip. “i need this stuff, rafe. and i swear, i’ll pay for half. like i said last time.”

“yeah, you’re not,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the noise of the bustling store.

you blinked at him. “but i—”

“i said i’d pay for this stuff, and i meant it,” he interrupted, reaching for the basket. “give me that before you break your arm carrying it.”

with an exasperated sigh, you handed it over, though the small smile on your lips gave you away. “you’re ridiculous.”

“and you’re very high maintenance,” he teased, smirking as he followed you to another aisle. “but here we are.”

when you finally made your way to the register, the cashier’s eyes widened slightly at the sheer volume of products you’d managed to pile up. rafe barely blinked as he handed over his card, his confidence only faltering slightly when the total appeared on the screen.

you leaned against his arm, glancing up at him with a soft smile. “thank you, baby,” you said quietly, your voice laced with genuine gratitude.

he glanced down at you, his lips tugging into a lopsided grin. “don’t mention it, princess.”

as the cashier handed over the sleek black bag filled with your new treasures, rafe grabbed it with ease, his other hand wrapping around your waist.

“next time,” you said as you left the store, “i really will pay for half.”

rafe let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “sure, princess. whatever you say.”

you narrowed your eyes at him playfully but leaned into his side as you walked through the mall. you might’ve been high maintenance, but he wouldn’t change a single thing about you.

MASTERLIST

CURRENT TAGLIST⋆⭒˚｡⋆

@maybankslover ⟢ @honeyluvsatj ⟢ @zazidot ⟢ @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 ⟢ @lunaleah ⟢ @maybanksangel ⟢ @wtfdudesblog. ⟢ @niktwazny303. ⟢ @outerbanksloverp4l ⟢ @slut4you ⟢ @hstbsl06 ⟢@percysley ⟢ @yesshewrites1 ⟢ @goldenvespa ⟢ @magicalyoura1

#lizzieswrites𝜗𝜚 #lizzies anons/requests𝜗𝜚 #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x you #drew starkey x you

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mtcloudsworld · 3 days ago

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𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄?

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 | none, just future brother-in-law! dick grayson reassuring your boyfriend!JasonTodd that it's the perfect time to ask you that special question. Edited but please ignore any errors. Enjoy!!

"What if she says no?"

"Pfft, I doubt it."

"What if she's not ready, though? You think it's too soon?"

"You've been dating for five years now, Jay, I think you're both more than ready for this." Dick says resting his forearms on his thighs. He leans forward to observe his little brother's nervous behavior. Pondering deeply and silently, he stared at the red velvet box held in his hand. Eager to ask the question he's been anticipating for a while now.

Marriage was never on his bucket list. It was never something he looked into doing but damn did he love you, you were his only exception. It took time for him to get used to the romantic stage in his life.

It took him at least a good 3 months for him to trust you before he felt comfortable opening up to you, dates were consistent, your schedules were aligned perfectly!... unless he had a long distance mission to take care of then it'd be awhile before you heard from him, but you weren't too worried about it. You understood from the very beginning his job wasn't anything to be taken lightly, he worked under intense, dangerous conditions. And though you were curious to know, you never pushed him to tell you. Which he was grateful for, your patience with him was everything to him.

It took a year...or two to fully tell you about his past and who he really was. It all made sense now why this mysterious "red hood" randomly came out of nowhere. The vigilante would frequently make sure you made it home safely. It was him, making sure his babygirl wasn't in any danger. I love you's were shared, the intimacy between you two was different, it changed drastically and it felt amazing. You knew how to calm him down when his mind was out of touch with reality. You both knew how to communicate with each other, knew when to give each other space, and acknowledged that you both were present whenever the other was feeling down.

A year later, you two had moved in together in a condo and bought two pets. You finally meet his family and vice versa. And now, coming up on five almost six years? It felt like marriage was the next step. He decided a long time ago, married or not, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. You were the only reason he was living day by day so it would only make sense to have you by his side permanently right?

Life would be meaningless without you.

Rejection wasn't something he could handle and just the idea of you... possibly...

Dick sighs, scooting closer to him.

"Look, she loves you, you love her. She knows...you would live and die for her, Jason. Get on your hands and knees to worship the ground she walks on. She knows damn well... you would drop everything just to come for her rescue. She balances you out, Jay. You two are meant to be and I believe as your supportive brother and hopefully your best man, this is the perfect time to do this."

Jason looks at him with heartfelt eyes, watching as a small smile of reassurance curls into the corner of Dick's lips as he holds onto his shoulder with a tender grip.

Jason sighs, closing his eyes for a moment and nods in understanding. Feeling a little bit confident with his decision.

"Yeah...you're right."

"Heh, I know I am." He states cockily, leaning back into the couch with a smirk and his hands behind his head and leg crossed over the other, rested on the coffee table.

Jason rolls his eyes in amusment, taking the small box in his hand, he placed it in the pocket of his camo pants, standing to his feet.

His movements were slow as he approached the open window. Placing his helmet back on, he had one foot out and the other in, contemplating on his next words, he looks over to his brother and says, "thanks, Dick...for everything." Before leaving out into the moon lit city to return to you.

And with a content sigh, Dick smiles, mumbling, "You're welcome, brother."

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃

𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 ©𝐦𝐭𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

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lesservillain · 3 days ago

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Request: Friends to lovers with Steve? We want so desperately for him to notice us, but he never asks us to hang out outside of the group. We’ve got to take matters into our own hands…or do we?

i wrote all of this in one sitting so enjoy!

cw: smut, piv, perv steve

wc: 3.3k

You looked yourself over in the mirror a few times to make sure everything was in place. There would be other people at this pool party, including the kids, so you weren’t trying to show off too much. But you wanted to made sure you looked good. Good enough for him.

It had been a long time crush, longer than you’d like you admit, that turned into a head over heels affection for Steve Harrington as recently as last year. When you were tossed into the throws that was “the Starcourt Mall incident,” you saw how brave and caring he could be in real time when it came to putting himself before you and the others. It just solidified the feelings that you’d been harboring for the king since before he started working with you at Scoops Ahoy.

But Steve just didn’t seem to feel the same way about you.

You watched as he flirted with countless girls at the mall as they came in for ice cream, and you’ve seen him do the same with the girls at Family Video where he now works with Robin. You even thought that him and Robin might be having a secret fling, but she assured you that was not the case. Either way, Steve never seemed to even be more than friendly with you. And it was really starting to bum you out.

Now that you work at your mom’s hair salon, the only way the two of you really see each other was when the whole gang would get together. Which today happened to be such an occasion. It was Dustin’s birthday party and the weather was warm enough that Steve decided to throw him a pool party at his house. Dustin extended an invite to you and you decided it would be the perfect opportunity to finally catch Steve’s attention.

You checked out the two piece on your body in the mirror. The ruffled top accentuated your breasts and the bottoms were just peaky enough to leave more to be desired. Plus the navy really brought out the colour of your eyes. You did feel a little dumb putting on make up and doing your hair, but you didn’t plan on going under the water so you were sure you’d be fine.

When you pulled up to Steve’s house you could already hear the kids being rowdy in the back yard. You grabbed Dustin’s gift from your back seat and went around the back to find everyone there. It didn’t take long to find Steve, manning the grill in his swim trucks and a cropped, sleeveless t-shirt. Jesus christ.

“You came!” Dustin shouted from the pool grabbing your attention.

“Of course I came!” You reply, raising the wrapped box in your hand. “Wouldn’t miss my little buddy’s big 15th!”

“Told you guys she would come,” Dustin says pointing this thumb in your direction. The kids all rolled their eyes at him and continued swimming around in the pool.

“Hey,” Steve says, giving you a wave. “You can set that inside if you want. Don’t want these bone heads to accidentally get it wet with one of their water guns.”

That's when you noticed. The entire front of Steve’s body was clearly drenched in water and it was leaving little to the imagination about what was underneath. His chest hair was clearly visible through the shirt, as were his nipples…

“Earth to dingus, are you okay?”

Robin’s voice snapped you out of your trance.

“Y-yeah, sorry, I’m just feeling a little spacey today is all.”

“Sure you are,” she said with wiggled eyebrows. Robin didn’t know you had a crush on Steve, but you were sure she expected it, even though you denied it anytime she asked.

“Do you want a beer?” Steve asks, bending over to grab one from the cooler.

“Sure,” you say with a slight stutter. This was going to be a long day, and you might as well have a drink to help you keep it together.

“I’ll help you take that inside,” Robin says after Steve hands you a beer. You nod and the two of you go through the sliding glass door.

There were several other gifts set out on the table so you just sat your gift there with the rest. When you turned to look at Robin, she had a shit eating grin on her face.

“What?” You ask, trying to keep as collected as possible.

“Oh, nothing,” she says, “Just seemed like you were checking Steve out out there.”

“Robin, I was not checking him out.”

“I knew you’d deny it. But I have eyes, and I can tell when someone wants to eat another person alive.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes at her.

“Steve is just a friend. I was just surprised to see him soaking wet is all.”

“At a pool party?”

Shit, she got you there.

“I guess I hadn’t thought about that.”

“I’m sure you hadn’t.”

There was a pause between you two before she inevitably turned and opened the sliding glass door. As soon as you walked out you heard your name being called from the pool.

“Come get in the pool, we need one more person for volleyball!”

Ah, yes, perfect time to unveil yourself.

“Okay, coming!” You say walking over to one of the pool chairs. You started to undress, hoping that Steve was watching you as you did. Shirt was off first; you made it a point to bend over in his direction when you pulled your shorts down. You heard a huff from Robin, who you were sure was seeing right through you, but you weren’t going to entertain her.

You took a chance to look over at Steve, who, to your dismay, seemed to be too preoccupied with the grill to have even looked your way. Damn it.

“Cute bathing suit,” El says from the pool.

“Thanks!” You say. At least someone noticed.

“What does it look like?” Max asks from the pool steps.She was looking in your general direction, but you knew she wouldn’t be able to see you from so far away, even with her glasses. You moved closer to her so she could see better.

“It’s navy blue, with some ruffles on the top and a little ruffle skirt.” You take her hand and let her touch the material so she can get a better idea.

“Shit!” You turn to see Steve holding his hand, wincing in pain.

“You okay, chef?” Robin asks.

“Yeah, just got too close to the grill is all.”

“Come on, lets play already!”

Your attention is taken away from Steve yet again by the teens calling for you. Dustin announces he wants you on his team and everyone groans.

“You only want her on your team because she’s an adult,” Lucas says.

“And your point is?” Dustin retorts.

“I’m honestly not that good, Dustin,” you tell him.

“We’ll see about that.”

And saw he did.

Even with El not using her powers, her, Mike, and Lucas beat you Dustin and Will by a landslide victory.

“Told you,” you shrug at him.

“It’s alright,” Dustin says defeated.

“I still think El cheated,” Will says.

“Did not!”

“Hey, food’s ready!”

That got the kids attention. They all rushed out, Lucas stopping to help Max get out as they did. They all hoarded around Steve who passed out dogs and burgers to everyone.

“What will you take?” He asks when he finally gets to you.

“A hotdog, please,” you say, holding your plate with the bun on it for him.

“Don’t shake it!”

“But nothing’s coming out-woah!”

It takes your brain a minute to process the feeling of something hitting you. You raise your hand to your hair and it instantly touches something wet and slimy. Bringing it back down, you look at your hand to find it’s covered in mustard.

The first thing you do is look at Steve, whose expression makes your heart drop. You probably look like a total idiot right now.

“Dude…” Steve turns to look beside you.

“I am, so, so sorry,” you hear Dustin say.

“It’s okay,” you say, more so telling yourself that rather than getting upset over an accident.

“Do you want to use my shower?” Steve asks, looking at you pitifully.

“Thanks.”

“Gimme that,” Steve says, grabbing the mustard bottle from Dustin as he walks past.

“Hey, I was still going to use that!”

“Just turn the knob to, like, right here and the water should be plenty warm for you.”

Steve shows you how to use the shower while mustard still drips from your hair. At least he’s not making fun of you. Just another reason to love him

“Thanks, Steve.”

“Don’t thank me,” he says, turning to look at you. He’s very close to you in this bathroom, so much so you can smell his sweaty skin and cologne. “If you want I can run your bathing suit through the dryer real quick.”

“That would be perfect, thanks.” He stands there for a moment, and you don’t really know what to do. “Um, I’ll get undressed now.”

“Oh, yeah, right.” He leaves the bathroom and pulls the door shut.

You start to pull the bathing suit off when the bathroom door starts to open.

“What the hell,” you say, closing the door.

“Oh, sorry,” Steve calls through the door, “This door is broken and doesn’t always stay latched. I’ll stand outside the door while you shower to make sure no one comes by.”

“Okay,” you call back.

Once undressed, you stand behind the door the best you can and stick your arm through the opening. Steve takes your bathing suit and you close the door behind you.

You do your best not to wash your make up off while in Steve’s shower. You do take the time to huff his sweet smelling shampoo. You’ve smelled it on him before, and it reminds you of him. It was crazy to think he was just on the other side of the door while you were in here. The idea made you a little crazy. Something to think about later tonight when you’re alone.

Turning the water off, you pull back the curtain and find that the bathroom door is cracked open a bit. You decided not to think much of it. Not like anyone would see you while Steve was manning the door

You took the towel that Steve had given you and started to dry off before wrapping your hair in it. You wondered if Steve had a blow dryer some where and decided to ask.

“Steve?”

You hear a thump from the other side of the door.

“Y-yeah,” you hear him reply.

“Do you have a hair dryer?”

There’s a quiet pause.

“Under the sink,” he replies.

“Thanks!”

You bend over and look for his hair dryer, finding it hanging on the side of the cabinet on a little hook. A smart idea.

Plugging it in, you take the towel out of your hair and lay it over the shower rod to dry. You take your time to dry it, you used your fingers to run through it since you didn’t have a comb.

“You can use my brush,” you hear from behind you. It startles you, and you look at the door through the mirror.

You’re shocked when you can see an eye peeking through the crack.

You place the dryer back down on the counter and grab the towel, wrapping it back around your body slowly.

Then, you suddenly grab the door and swing it wide open.

You weren’t sure what to expect, but it definitely wasn’t Steve Harrington with his cock in his hand.

“I can explain!” He says, covering himself. Well, trying to cover himself. He was huge. So big in fact that not even his big hands could cover the horse between his legs.

“Steve…were you spying on me?”

“I-I-wasn’t-I was--”

There’s no way this was real life. You’ve been trying to get Steve Harrington to notice you for months and you catch him not only jerking himself off, but doing it while spying on you.

So you make a bold move.

“Steve.” You drop your towel, fully exposing yourself to him. His eyes drop with the towel, slowly moving back up your body, examining you closely.

“If you wanted to fuck me, all you had to do was ask.”

He stands there, still as a statue as he tries to compute the words that just came out of your mouth. Since he didn’t seem to be getting the hint, you decide to grab him by the shirt and pull him into the bathroom. Pushing the door closed behind you, you hear it latch just fine.

“Are you going to say something, Stevie?” You say in a silky smooth voice.

“I-I--”

But you don’t give him the chance to stutter more. You take his cheeks in your hands and bring his lips to yours. The smell of his aftershave fills your senses as your lips move in tandem, waking him up from his stupor enough to get the hint.

He starts to take off his shorts, letting them drop to the floor and kicking them off. His shirt comes next, your lips parting for just a moment to let the fabric pull over his head. You let your hands land on his chiseled chest, fingers desperately running through the hair that resides there. The feeling only confirming that this was indeed happening.

His hands land on your hips, sliding down until they reach your ass. He cups you, and suddenly you’re being lifted up and onto the counter. He pushes you back, kissing you with such force that you hit the mirror behind you.

“You were so hot out there undressing,” he says as his lips trail down to your neck. “And when you let Max see your swimsuit. That was so sweet of you.”

“Really, that’s what got you going?” Your laugh turns into a moan as his hands grope your breasts.

“I’ve got a soft spot for those kids. Seeing you be nice to them just--” His lips meet yours again, his teeth taking your lower lip and pulling on it.

One of his hands moves from your breast and lowers down to between your legs. You feel him rub his fingers in your wetness and it makes your breath hitch when he hits your clit.

“Right there, huh?” He says, his fingers beginning to rub gentle circles into your bud.

“Oh, shit, Steve--”

“Sound so pretty when you say my name,” he says against your ear.

He does some moving between your legs and you suddenly feel his finger making its way inside of you, his thumb replacing them to keep tending to your clit. His finger pumps inside of you at a breathtaking pace, the thick digit hitting that spot inside you.

“You’re so wet. Is that for me or is it just from the shower?”

“Definitely for you,” you pant out. You could feel yourself getting close to your release the more he worked you. When he added a second finger stretching you out more, you felt the coil tightening at an alarming rate.

“Oh my god, Steve, I’m gonna--”

“Do it. Cum for me, baby girl.”

That chord snaps, and you start to cum on Steve’s fingers, legs shaking around him as you do.

Steve slows down, letting you come down from your high while giving you kisses all over your neck and cheeks.

“You think you’re ready for me, baby?”

You nod your head drunkenly. Steve uses the spend on his fingers to pump himself, lubricating his cock with it before bringing the head to your entrance. In a moment of clarity you almost panic. The sheer size of Steve between your legs had you worried.

“It’ll fit, I promise.” He says as if reading your mind. You gulp, but choose to trust him. “Just tell me if it hurts and I’ll stop.”

You nod your head again, and the both of you watch as Steve lines himself up with your entrance, slowly pushing into you. The stretch was something else. You’d never been with anyone as big as Steve before and it started to make you question any guy you’d been with before.

But he took his time. He definitely knew his limits and rocked in and out of you at a gentle pace until he found himself fully sheathed inside of you.

“You ready?” He asks in a sultry tone, giving you a half smile.

“Y-yes, please,” you gasp out, still amazed that he was able to fit.

Steve chuckles and begins to move. And it feels amazing. It wasn’t a brutal pace, but as it picked up, you could definitely understand why all the girls in high school talked about his game back in the day. This was the fullest you’d ever felt in your life.

But Steve wasn’t just fucking you. No, this felt like there was passion behind it. Something about the way he was staring between you with an open mouth expression really turned you. It didn’t feel like just a random fuck on a random Tuesday.

“Steve, Steve, Steve,” you moan out as his hips smack into your ass over and over.

“That’s right baby girl, tell me who’s fucking you right now,” he says as his pace starts to quicken.

“You are, oh my god, you are, Steve,” you say. You start to feel that familiar feeling in your stomach again the more he pounds into you.

“Fuck yea,” he moans, moving in close to take your lips as his once again. “Been wanting-to do-this for-a while.” He talks between kisses and his words set your body aflame. Steve wanted to fuck you. If you weren’t experience it in real time, you’d say this was just another one of your wet dreams.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum,” he says as he pulls away. His thumb returns to your clit to rub quick circles into it, only heating you up more.

“Fuck, fuck, Steve--” You feel yourself getting closer to the edge as he continues to work you. It’s not much longer before you feel yourself cumming on his cock, squeezing and contracting around him in a way that drives him crazy. And in just a few more pumps, you feel Steve starting to fill you up.

After a moment, you finally come down from your high to see Steve panting like he just ran a marathon. You’re about to speak when he brings his lips to yours. Even in his post nut clarity, he feels the need to kiss you like a man starved.

But you kiss him back joyfully, glad to know that this wasn’t just going to be one big mistake for him.

“That was--”

“Crazy.”

“Yeah,” he says with a smile that melts your heart.

You wince as he pulls himself out of you. He grabs the towel from the ground and reaches around you to wet the end of it, using it as a rag to clean you up.

“You’re too sweet, Steve Harrington,” you say with hearts in your eyes.

“Nah, I just really like you,” he says throwing the towel to the ground.

“You like me?” You say with surprise. “Like, like me, like me?”

He looks at you sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“For a while now. I just didn’t want it to become a whole thing with the kids if I asked you out and you turned me down.”

“Well, I definitely wouldn’t do that. I’ve liked you longer than you’ve even known I existed.”

Steve head tilts back and he laughs that sweet laugh of his.

“Of all the girls I try and ask out, the one I had a chance with is the one I actively avoided.”

“I guess you should ask her out then. She’d probably say yes.”

“How’s Friday night looking for you?”

“Looks like I’ll be busy with Steve Harrington.”

#bunnie’s inbox 💌#steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut

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woso-dreamzzz · 13 hours ago

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Shy

Aitana Bonmatí x Reader

Summary: You still get shy around your girlfriend

The move was a long time in the making.

You bled North London, making your senior debut at just seventeen for Arsenal. You came straight up through the academy with Leah. You eat, lived and slept Arsenal and yet...

Barcelona was where you found yourself now.

They'd been chasing you for years, trying to get your pen on paper. You'd turned them down every time up until now.

It broke your heart to leave Arsenal but it was for the best.

Barcelona got what they wanted, three years of world class defence from you and you got what you wanted, to finally move in with your girlfriend.

Aitana was perfect. You'd met at a friendly years ago and really hit it off. Five years later and you both knew that the long-distance portion of your love was coming to a close.

There wasn't even a question of who was going to move. You may have bled North London but you were happy to trade rainy England for sunny Spain.

It felt a bit like the honeymoon stage again when you could barely keep your hands off of each other. Just a tiny brush of her hand against yours made you feel all tingly inside and you kept smiling at her like a loon, unable to wipe it off your face.

"You're disgusting," Lucy commented as you sat in the break room, head propped up on your fist as you stared longingly across the room," I've never met anyone more smitten before. You know you live with her, right? It's not too scary to talk to her, I hope."

You looked down bashfully, cheeks aflame.

Lucy had been leading the charge on teasing you about Aitana. You couldn't help that your girlfriend still made you feel like a blushing school girl.

"She's busy. I don't want to interrupt her," You replied, turning away to try and hide your embarrassment."

"Busy," Keira scoffed," She's talking to Mapi and Ingrid. That's hardly busy."

"They're having a conversation. People shouldn't invite themselves into conversations. It's rude."

"So you're just going to pine from afar?" Lucy laughed. She reached forward and pinched your cheek, ruffling your hair when you forcefully pulled away. "God, what are you twelve?"

You had a retort on the tip of your tongue but it died instantly when Aitana turned around.

She smiled at you and waved.

You waved back and looked down bashfully.

Lucy made gagging noises.

"Leave me alone!" You complained," Can't you go and bother someone else?"

"But you make it so easy." She flicked you away with her hand. "Go on then, lover girl. Try not to just stare and dribble down your top."

You flipped her off as you went, ignoring the way Keira was making kissy faces behind your back.

"Hi," You said softly, hyper aware of the red sheen to your cheeks.

"Hi," Aitana said back, patting the spot next to her.

You sat and moved to rest your head on her shoulder while Aitana's hand immediately gripped yours, lacing your fingers together tightly.

"You two are so gross," Mapi said," You're like little kids on their first date."

Unlike with Lucy, you didn't feel confident enough to argue with Mapi. You'd played on the national team with Lucy for years. You knew how to deal with her but, with Aitana's teammates, you felt it was probably better to just stay silent and not make eye contact.

"Just because we still have chemistry doesn't mean it's a personal attack on you," Aitana replied.

Her thumb gently stroked circles on your hand as she spoke and you melted into a pile of goo then and there.

"Me and Ingrid still have chemistry!" Mapi insisted," Just because we're not pushing our PDA on everybody doesn't mean we don't! You're like horny teenagers."

The permanent blush on your face only got deeper and you tried to hide your face in Aitana's shoulder.

"Look at her!" Mapi continued," She's like a pile of mush!"

"I'm still here," You muttered," I can hear you."

"Are you sure?" Mapi teased," I mean, can you really focus on anything apart from Aitana? God, you both make me feel sick. You're disgustingly in love."

"There's nothing wrong with that." Aitana looked proud at the comparison, puffing out her chest in a way that made your cheeks burn brighter. She dropped a kiss to one of them, nice and firm and you slouched a bit lower in your seat when you accidentally caught Mapi's eye.

"I mean, what are you doing to the poor girl?" She laughed," She looks like a tomato!"

"She's just shy," Aitana said," And that's fine! I love her like this."

You pressed a soft kiss to her neck and whispered for her ears only," I love you too."

#woso x reader #aitana bonmati x reader #aitana bonmati #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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kyunniebuns · 2 days ago

Text

˗ˏˋ Entry : 058 - Sung Jinwoo x Fem! Reader: Smut ◛⑅·˚ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ 𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

[ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. By interacting with this post you are fully aware that this is a work of fiction for 18+ readers.]

╰┈➤ ❝ [ I want you in my Blood Veins ] ¡! ❞

"Ngh.. Haa... Jinwoo please" You beg, gasping pathetically as you fumble around on the sheets that felt damp from the frequency of your activities with you lover. "I can't..."

"Yes, you can." Jinwoo purs against your ear, suckling gently on the shell of your ear as he continously pistons you from behind.

How many rounds has it even been since you both started?

The last time you were able to count it was fifteen.

Someway along the way way you had lost count from the fog that overwhelmed your brain with how insatiable this bastard is.

He came from work and then suddenly he's fucking you like he didn't do it last week.

Is Sung Jinwoo losing his fucking mind?

With his cock inside you?

Fuck Yes.

God, did he have to be so big?

Each time it feels like you're a virgin with how girthy he is. The veins poppingon the skin brushing inside you walls is driving you absolutely insane.

How can he get so big in such a short amount of time even?

Sung Jinwoo is not even human at this point.

"Hic!..." He groans, thrusting once more as he buries himself into you— And you swear his cockhead is kissing your cervix right now.

"J-jinwoo... Have mercy." You drool on the pillow, completely fucked out of your mind as you once again feel so lightheaded with the thick and creamy release flooding your insides.

the uterus is normally pink, but yours right now must be white.

"I'm not even done yet, sarang" Jinwoo purrs sadistically, pulling out and then flipping you over on your back so he can admire the mess he made.

"Look at you" He muses, swiping his thumb on your parted lips. "So pretty like this, how can you expect me to control myself?"

Hair sprayed on his pillows, your cute and swollen pink pussy overflowing with his semen, your releases mixed together in his sheets— How can he resist? How can a man like him be calm when the love of his life is this perfect and fuckable?

He praises you with sweet nothings as he once again slides inside your already sensitive insides as if he wants you with a child by the time he's done with you.

"Ah, fuck" Jinwoo groans as he leans his head back while thrusting in and out like a fucking animal.

Such a brutally beautiful man this psycho is.

You swear your eyes must be dilating into hearts shapes at this moment with the sight of his slicked back hair from the amount of sweat he is producing. His defined adam's apple is bobbing up and down over and over,

Those scars on his wondserful skin, those lovely and strong pecks littered with your nibbles and bite marks, those hazy grey eyes who can only see you in the midst of all this madness and debauchery—

You are just as clouded with lust as this man, you hypocrite.

So, your legs wrap around his waist no matter how limp you already are from the countless rounds and the sticky feeling originating from your overflowing core.

Really, you don't mind even if this bastard fucks you until sunrise♡.

꒰ 🪼 A/N: Now before ya'll start qouting me on my last Jinwoo smut— STFU IK IM A HYPOCRITE NO NEED TO RUB SALT IN THE WOUND MFS QAQ. Miner Jinwoo is my AND I AM IN HEAT YOUR HONOR. PLEASE SENTENCE ME TO LIFE IN PRISON PLEASE. I NEED HIM AND ITS NOT A JOKR ANM— ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

#‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘⋆— kyunnie's writings #sung jinwoo #solo leveling #sung jin woo #only i level up #solo leveling headcanons #sung jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo x you #sung jin woo x reader #sung jinwoo headcanons #sung jin woo headcanons #sung jinwoo x reader fluff #solo leveling x reader #solo leveling fanfic #ore dake level up na ken

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amourquinn · 2 days ago

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𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ; quinn hughes ( short fic )

pairing : quinn x fem!reader wc. 1.2k

genre : fluff no warnings

summary : a weekend at the lake house with friends takes an unexpected turn when a nightmare brings you and quinn closer

the lake house was quinn’s idea—a perfect place to escape and unwind. for someone as busy as him, weekends like these were rare, and he was excited to spend it surrounded by his family and closest friends, including you.

you and quinn had been friends for years, the kind of friendship built on quiet understanding and mutual trust. it wasn’t flashy or loud, but it was solid. he’d been there for you during tough times, always offering support in his own quiet way, and you’d done the same for him. you were one of the few people he could truly be himself around—no expectations, no pressure, just quinn.

there had always been an unspoken connection between you, but nothing more than friendship had ever been explored. you weren’t sure why. maybe it was fear of ruining what you already had, or maybe it was just the timing never being quite right. either way, you valued the bond you shared and wouldn’t trade it for anything.

that weekend at the lake house had been a long time coming. the two of you, along with quinn’s brothers, some family friends, and a couple of his teammates, had spent the day making the most of the gorgeous weather.

the morning began with a big breakfast prepared by quinn’s mom, followed by a hike that left everyone a little out of breath but in good spirits. in the afternoon, the lake became the center of activity. you and quinn had spent hours on the water, racing kayaks, teasing each other relentlessly, and soaking up the sun. he’d even pushed you off the dock at one point, laughing as you sputtered and promised revenge.

later, as the sun began to set, everyone gathered for a barbecue dinner. the smell of grilled burgers and hot dogs filled the air, accompanied by the sound of quinn’s brothers bickering good-naturedly. when night fell, the group sat around the fire pit, roasting marshmallows and telling stories. it was one of those perfect days where everything felt easy and carefree.

by the time you finally retreated to bed, your body ached pleasantly from the day’s activities. you’d fallen asleep quickly, but your rest was short-lived.

the nightmare came out of nowhere, vivid and unsettling. you woke up with a start, your heart pounding and your breaths shallow. the images refused to leave your mind, clinging to you like a dark cloud. you tried to calm yourself, telling yourself it was just a dream, but the unease wouldn’t go away. every creak of the old house seemed amplified, every shadow in the room more menacing.

you sat up in bed, wrapping your arms around your knees. you didn’t want to stay in the room alone any longer, but you weren’t sure what to do. then, you thought of quinn. he was only down the hall, and if anyone could make you feel safe, it was him.

grabbing your phone, you hesitated. was it weird to text him this late? but then again, quinn was quinn. he wouldn’t mind. taking a deep breath, you typed out a message.

y/n : hey, are you awake?

the reply came almost instantly.

quinn : yeah, what’s up?

your fingers hovered over the screen as you debated what to say. finally, you decided to just be honest.

y/n : i had a nightmare. i can’t fall back asleep. can i come to your room?

the three dots indicating he was typing appeared almost immediately.

quinn : of course. door’s unlocked.

the hallway was quiet as you slipped out of your room and padded down to his. you cracked the door open to find him sitting up in bed, his phone still in his hand. the soft glow of the screen illuminated his face, and when he saw you, he set it aside, his expression softening.

“hey,” he said quietly. “you okay?”

you stepped inside, closing the door behind you. “not really,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “i couldn’t stay in there alone.”

quinn nodded and shifted over, patting the empty space beside him. “come here. you can stay.”

you hesitated for only a moment before climbing into bed, keeping a bit of distance between you. the mattress dipped slightly under your weight, and the faint scent of his cologne—fresh and familiar—immediately soothed some of your nerves.

quinn pulled the blanket over you, his voice gentle as he asked, “do you want to talk about it?”

you shook your head, your gaze fixed on your hands. “it was just… bad. i don’t even remember all of it, but it left me feeling weird. i couldn’t fall back asleep.”

his brow furrowed in concern, and he leaned back against the headboard. “i get that. sometimes i get those dreams too.”

his tone was steady, calming, and you felt a lump rise in your throat. you weren’t used to letting people see you like this—vulnerable and scared—but quinn made it feel okay.

“you don’t have to talk about it,” he added. “just stay here. you’re safe.”

“thanks, quinn,” you murmured, settling into the pillow.

“anytime,” he replied softly, lying back down beside you.

at first, you kept to your side of the bed, still feeling a little awkward. but as the minutes ticked by, the quiet steadiness of his presence started to chip away at your unease. his breathing was slow and even, and the warmth radiating from his side of the bed was strangely comforting.

⋆˙⟡

the morning sunlight streaming through the blinds woke you. blinking groggily, you realized two things: quinn’s arm was wrapped around you, and your head was resting on his chest. sometime during the night, you’d both shifted closer, his body curled protectively around yours.

the door creaked open, and you turned your head just in time to see trevor step inside.

“hey, quinn, breakfast is—” he stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening as he took in the scene.

“well, well, well,” trevor said, his voice laced with amusement. “what do we have here?”

your cheeks flushed as you instinctively tried to pull away, but quinn groaned, pulling you closer.

“too early,” he mumbled into your hair, his voice heavy with sleep.

“breakfast is ready,” trevor said, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. “but i can see you two need… a little more time.”

“trev,” quinn muttered, his voice muffled, “shut the door.”

trevor chuckled, retreating and closing the door behind him.

you sighed, finally managing to tilt your head back to look at quinn. his hair was a mess, and his eyes barely open, but there was a small, sleepy smile on his face.

“five more minutes?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

he shrugged, his arm still loosely around you. “we deserve more than just five minutes of sleep.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile forming on your lips. “you’re impossible.”

“maybe,” he murmured, his voice soft and raspy. “but you’re comfy.”

the honesty in his tone made your breath catch, and for a moment, neither of you moved. the morning sunlight bathed the room in a golden glow, and the world outside seemed to fade away.

“okay,” you finally said, settling back into his embrace. “ten more minutes.”

quinn’s smile widened as he pulled you closer, and the two of you drifted off again, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment before breakfast.

#[ 📁 ] short fic #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fluff #nhl hockey #vancouver canucks

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pelova4president · 2 days ago

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My treat I

sugarmommies!Ingrid x Frido x sugarbaby!Reader

My treat II

summary~ you get caught staring for the second time and two of the most beautiful women take an interest in you. this is just the beginning, so there’s not much tension yet. not proof read.

As an intern you were supposed to feel a bit out of place, like you aren’t really supposed to be there. Like you’re invincible.

Invincible, it’s the perfect word to describe how you felt. You found yourself in a room full of journalists and professional athletes. You weren’t a professional athlete nor a real journalist, at least not yet.

The room was bright. The lights were fixated on the footballers walking through the door. There were voices coming from all directions of the room. Question were asked and answered. Player after player came walking through that door until the last one arrived.

Engen, that’s what the interviewer from DAZN called her. She caught your eye. Her long black hair was pulled back into a ponytail. The effort she had put into the game was seen in little droplets of sweat across her face.

The woman answered the question quick and confident. She answered the questions in almost fluent Spanish, it made you wonder where she learned the language. The interviewer thanked her and Engen gave her a nod before she looked over the interviewer’s shoulder, at you.

She had caught you staring. Well, it was kind of your job to do that but for some reason you really did felt caught by her. Engen didn’t give you much of a reaction, only a tiny smirk appeared.

Weeks later, back in Manchester you she caught you staring again.

Done for the day you let your friends convince you to go out to a bar. It had been a long day, writing whatever came to mind in the hopes it was good enough for your assignment. You really needed to get drunk and forget about whatever you had to do the next day.

The bar was dimly lit, something you would’ve found unsettling if you weren’t already four shots down. There was a soft jazz playlist on in the background as your heels hit the wooden floor. Your friend walked you to the bar where you ordered a porn star martini.

As you sat on one of the creaking barstools you looked around. In the booth left to you sat a couple that was clearly in the honeymoon phase. Next to them sat group of men, laughing at some sexist joke.

The bartender placed your martini down when she caught your eye again. But Engen wasn’t alone. There was a blonde next to her and even with the horrible lighting you could see her eyes sparkle.

The dark haired woman had a black dress on and the blonde a dark grey suit. They were gorgeous.

You looked away as quickly as you could but the damage was already done. You sipped nervously on your drink in the hopes she wouldn’t recognise you.

But your prayers weren’t heard. You felt someone tap you on your shoulder. You closed your eyes and when you didn’t turn the person spoke. “I know you saw us, Ingrid recognised you.”

You turned your head slowly, showing a shy smile. “You’re pretty cute, come sit with us.” the blonde ordered more than offered you.

You got up from your seat and followed the woman to her booth. She let you get seated first, next to Ingrid, in the middle. You felt like you were trapped between the two women.

“I knew i recognised you from somewhere. You are the staring girl from that DAZN interview right?” Ingrid asked you. You looked down at your drink and nodded.

Frido and Ingrid looked at eachother and Ingrid spoke up again. “Frido here thinks you’re very pretty.”

The blonde scoffed at that. “Like you weren’t talking about her for the last few weeks. I was just interested to see her in the flesh. And yeah, i’ll have to agree with you, she really is as beautiful as you said.”

You looked at Frido and she gave you a warm smile. “Thanks” you told her.

“So tell us about yourself, your work, your boyfriend maybe?” Ingrid asked you.

“No boyfriend, or girlfriend and uhm i’m an intern at the moment.” you told them. They seemed to exchange a smile at that.

You asked them about their interest and lives. You got to know they both play for Barcelona and were born in Norway and Sweden. Frido placed her arm around your shoulders as you took the last sip of your drink.

The footballers wanted to know more about you, so you told them more. They were practically strangers, but hot strangers that showed interest so that doesn’t count anyway.

It was 1:30 am when you told them you should probably start to get home. Frido hummed at that. “Yeah, we should too.”

Ingrid walked to the front with you as Frido paid for the drinks. “I really enjoyed tonight, maybe we could do it again some other time?” she asked you.

Ingrid’s eyes looked into yours as she stood infront of you “I really enjoyed tonight too. Maybe we could yeah.” you told her.

“You’re really pretty, even with that shitty lightning i could see how beautiful you are.” she told you.

You couldn’t help but smile as the leaned in. The kiss was soft and genuine, just like her words.

It wasn’t until you heard the door shut that you broke the kiss off. “So you gave Engen the first kiss?” Frido spoke.

You really didn’t know what they had, if they did have anything going on at all. This dynamic was beyond confusing for you.

“Oh come on, if you had the chance you wouldn’t wait either.” the Norwegian defended herself.

“Hmm, it would only be fair if i would get one too huh?” she smirked at you. The blonde placed her hand under your chin and kissed you just as genuine. Frido was passionate and controlling the kiss.

When your uber arrived they gave you their phone numbers and told you to text them when you got home. You placed a kiss to both of their cheeks as you thanked them for the night.

You opened the door to your shared apartment, it was dark inside. Your roommates were most likely asleep or staying at their partners place.

Everybody knows that living as a intern is hard. You put all your effort into your work and don’t even get a moment of appreciation. Your salary was low but you already knew that when you signed the contract. But even though it was hard, you really enjoyed the work you did and the people you worked with.

As you got into bed you typed something to the two women. ‘hi, this is the staring girl-‘ no that’s cringe. ‘hey, this is me from tonight-‘ no too weird. ‘hi, i’m home. I really enjoyed tonight :)’ that’ll do.

‘thank you for texting, we loved it too. especially the end ;)’ -frido

‘we only have a few days left in manchester, so maybe we can cook you something on tuesday?’ -ingrid

‘yeah, that sounds really nice. I’d like that.’

A.N. i’ll need some ideas/prompts/hc’s for the next chapter so send them in because i need motivation

#woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #ingrid engen x reader #fridolina rolfo x reader #fridolina rolfö #ingrid engen #ingrid engen x fridolina rolfo x reader #woso imagine #woso #barca femeni

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roordismo · 1 day ago

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Top Bins - Alexia Putellas

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word count: 690 | summary: late night practice

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Alexia always did after-training practice whenever team training wrapped up, it became a habit after she had rehabbed for so long, an extra push to get back to the level she used to be at. You teasingly called her an ‘overachiever’ for it, even though you’d sometimes tag along with her.

The two of you spend countless nights just doing something extra to keep your form up. Tonight was no different, planning on spending your time with Alexia as you always did. It had gotten quite a bit darker outside as you walked out on the same pitch you trained on less than an hour ago. The pitch was completely cleared of all training equipment by the staff, though they were kind enough to keep the lights on. As you looked down at your phone, Alexia came walking out on the pitch, putting her stuff next to yours. The both of you agreed on practicing free kicks this time.

After a few decent attempts you put the ball down again, adjusting it so it stayed in the ‘perfect spot’. “Míra esto Putellas, top bins, I can feel it.” You said confidently with a smug grin on your face. She chuckled at your confidence, “Yeah? Are you gonna put your money where your mouth is?” Giving her a glance as you lined up to take your shot, you responded, “Absolutely, I always back my statements up.” The ball went flying over, not even remotely close to the crossbar, hitting the fence behind the goals with a loud thud. “So that was supposed to be top bins?” She raised an eyebrow, mocking your confidence from earlier. “Era una broma, you didn’t think i was serious did you?” You asked, trying to cover up your shitty attempt, even though you were embarrassed not being able to follow up your words. “Oh this isn’t your best? Maybe I should've waited before judging you then, go again.” She dared you as you picked up the ball from the goal and put it back in the same spot around the 16-yard box. You watched the ball fly through the sky, only for it to land on the roof of the net. “Es esto todo lo que tienes? Are you sure you’re not aiming for the wrong bins?” She chuckled, pointing at the top corner of the goal. “Whatever smartass, let me do this perfectly now.” You lined up again, as she called out, “Don’t overdo yourself, tryhard!” “Third time's a charm they say.” You shouted right back at her before taking the shot. The run up was perfect, you hit the ball perfectly this time and drove it right into the top corner Alexia pointed at a minute ago.

"And how’s this for top bins Ale? I told you I could do it” You added cockily, a big grin spreading across your face as she rolled her eyes. “What did I say, you’ve doubted me the whole time.” Going on about the fact you just hit top bins, forgetting about all the previous misses. “So now you’re an expert of course, it was a lucky shot!” She teased, putting her hands up in the air as she chuckled at your response. “A lucky shot? It was pure skill! I’m the next Ballon d’Or winner for sure!” You went on, “You’re really full of it tonight.” Giving you a little shove at all your bragging, stepping closer towards you. “You’re just jealous you didn’t-” Alexia shook her head, tugging your collar firmly before pressing her lips down on yours, catching you by surprise.

A small smile appeared on her face after she pulled away. “I’ll give you something to brag about.” she said proudly. “Hm yeah, this might be better than hitting that shot.” you responded, grinning like a child. Then she moved away from you, leaving you clueless on what was going to happen next. She put the ball back down, right before effortlessly sending it into the left corner of the goal. There she stood, laughing whilst looking at you. “Fine, you win Alexia…” you jokingly sighed. “Someone had to show you how it’s done."

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first time in forever again, any errors lmk x

#barcelona femeni #woso #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #espwnt #barca femeni

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luxerians · 2 days ago

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The Last Mask (15)

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

Chapter 15 - Behind You

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 16

PREV : Chapter 14

Well, you’re fucked.

You thought you would be safe by disguising as a square guard in this place. But no. The Captain, after declaring that your stunt here was a hide-and-seek game, announced in his deep, commanding voice:

“All guards are to leave immediately, except for the managers. Managers, you will remain in the control room until you are summoned. Each manager will meet me in a private room. This will continue until I have identified each of you personally.”

The words rang out like a death sentence. Your heart sank. Every square guard in the control room, including you, was now locked into a situation you couldn’t easily escape. The Captain’s declaration left no room for argument or hesitation. He knew you were hiding among them, and now, he was closing in, determined to find you.

As the triangle and circle guards filtered out of the control room in near-perfect unison, you remained rooted to your spot, your anxiety bubbling to a near-breaking point. The managers around you stood silently. You tried to mirror their demeanor, even as your pulse pounded in your ears. The Captain’s gaze swept over all of you before he strode out.

The masked officer stayed behind, stepping forward to address the remaining managers. “Everyone, line up. Form four lines in the center.”

All of you lined up. The process began – without any instructions, to your horror – starting from the first line from the left. Everyone moved efficiently like robots. It's like everyone here had been groomed to be like this.

Soon enough, you learned how this worked. Each square guard would meet the Captain personally, one by one. Once the guard finished, they would return to the control room to guide the next in line to the Captain’s room. This cycle continued, with the latest guard becoming the guide for the next.

The summoning progressed one by one in the line first, each guard vanishing into the hallway with their guide. You stood near the back of the third line, giving you time to wait and prepare, though the wait itself was nerve-wracking.

Minutes ticked by, each one slower than the last. Finally, it was your line – the third queue’s turn – to be called. One by one, the guards in your line were summoned. Each time, the manager at the front of the line would straighten their posture, nod briskly, and step forward to follow the guide. Then, they would vanish into the hallway, leaving the line one person shorter.

Your heart thudded louder with every departure. The sound of footsteps echoed faintly each time the door opened and closed, the control room’s stillness amplifying everything. You kept your head down but your mind was elsewhere. Your thoughts raced, trying to rehearse how you would act, what you would say, how you would surrender to the Captain when your turn came.

Because let’s face it. Once you are summoned to see the Captain personally, you would have no choice but to unmask and reveal yourself to him once he commands you to. You can’t run.

The manager in front of you stepped forward, their number called. They followed the guide out into the hallway. Your stomach began to twist uncomfortably. You’re next.

After a few minutes, the square guard from before returned and stood beside you.

“This way,” they said, their tone monotone and detached.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, you straightened up and quietly followed them out of the control room under the watchful eye of the Captain’s second-in-command.

Your steps echoed against the walls of the labyrinthine hallways. The path twisted and turned, each corner feeling more ominous than the last. The guide didn’t speak, and you didn’t dare break the silence.

Soon enough, the square guard who led you stopped in front of a door and pushed it open. They held it ajar, gesturing for you to step inside. Your heart pounded in your chest as you forced yourself to move forward. As you entered, you realized the room was a storage area. Dust clung to the shelves, and the faint smell of mildew lingered in the air. It looked like the room hadn’t been used in a while.

But what caught your attention wasn’t just the state of the room. It was the figure standing inside. A triangle guard. The Captain was nowhere to be seen.

You stiffened in confusion and alarm, your muscles tensing as you prepared for the worst. Before you could act, the triangle guard, in his distorted voice, called your name. “It’s okay. It’s us.”

The triangle guard reached up and removed their mask, revealing a face partially obscured by a headsock with a wide hole that exposed their eyes. But you didn’t need to see their whole face to recognize them. The moment your gaze locked with theirs, you knew.

“Gyeong-seok?” you whispered, barely able to believe it.

He gave you a small, tired smile and tugged the headsock down to his neck, fully revealing his face. Sweat clung to his skin, making his hair stick to his forehead and cheeks. His neck glistened, evidence of the heat trapped in the pink guard’s jumpsuit.

Behind you, the square guard who had led you to the room closed the door and began removing their own mask. As the mask came off, you saw a woman beneath it, also wearing a headsock. She pulled the fabric down to her neck, revealing her full face.

For a moment, you were stunned. She was beautiful, with V-shaped jawline and pretty features that caught you off guard. She looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties, her face flushed and her neck damp with sweat. Strands of her hair clung to her skin, making her look as exhausted as she was captivating. There was a small line of dried cut on her left cheek. It seemed fresh. Nevertheless, you found yourself staring longer than you intended, but Gyeong-seok’s voice broke through your thoughts.

“She’s the one who saved us,” he said, nodding toward the woman. “She took down two square guards before your turn to get you out of there.”

Your eyes widened in shock as you turned to her. “Two guards?”

The unnamed woman’s voice was soft yet strong, no longer distorted by the mask. “I took down the first one to see where you were in those lines. Then I intercepted the guard before you after they finished their meeting with the Captain.”

Her words hung in the air, and you took a moment to process what she had done. The risk she had taken was staggering, and the fact that she had succeeded left you both grateful and in awe.

“Wait here,” she told you. “I’ll guide the guard after you in line so nothing seems amiss.”

You nodded, looking at her appreciatively. She pulled the square mask back over her face, adjusting it carefully before tugging her jumpsuit and hood into place. With her appearance restored, she slipped out the door.

The room fell silent after she left, the faint hum of machinery somewhere in the facility the only sound. You exchanged a look with Gyeong-seok, who leaned back against the dusty shelf, his expression a mixture of relief and worry.

“She’s gutsy,” Gyeong-seok muttered. “I’m not sure how she managed all that.”

“Neither do I,” you admitted as you leaned against the wall. “I wonder how long she has worked here.”

Minutes ticked by, each one stretching longer than the last. You couldn’t shake the unease lingering in the back of your mind, but knowing that the woman was taking steps to protect your cover gave you a small sense of security. Finally, after what felt like forever, the door creaked open again.

She stepped inside, closing the door softly behind her. Her movements were quick but deliberate as she removed her mask, revealing her flushed face once more. With a slight nod, she walked over to you and handed the square mask.

“It’s done,” she said, her voice low but steady. “Guards who had passed their meeting with the Captain are dismissed.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

The lady resumed, “We’ll need to lay low for now. The guards are on high alert and the Captain is watching everything because of your disappearance.”

She glanced at you pointedly. Though her face showed no emotion, you could sense their confusion about the Captain's peculiar behavior toward you. To be fair, you were just as baffled.

You voiced your confusion, though your thoughts were focused on a different matter. “Is it just me, or does he already know that I’m disguised as one of the guards?”

She didn’t hesitate. “He does. There’s no need for him to command every manager to see him personally one by one.”

“Manager?” Gyeong-seok repeated questioningly.

The lady nodded, clarifying further. “The square guards are called managers. The triangle guards are soldiers. The circles are workers. From the lowest to the highest rank, it’s workers, soldiers, and managers. The man in black and pink is referred to as the officer. And the one we call the Captain is officially known as the Front Man.”

You fell silent, letting the explanation sink in. The hierarchy and structure of this place were clearer now, but it was still too much for you. The unknown lady added, “The Captain must have figured out that you disguised yourself as a manager because the one who was supposed to guard you was found with his mask removed.”

The memory surfaced immediately. This same lady had been the one to remove the original manager’s mask and hand it to you, enabling your disguise.

Gyeong-seok broke the silence. “So what do we do now?”

“We lay low,” the lady said firmly. “Try to adapt as much as you can.”

She turned to Gyeong-seok and said, “I gave you a soldier’s mask for number 014. Our rooms are close to each other, and our tasks are almost identical. Just follow my lead, and you’ll blend in.”

Gyeong-seok nodded. She then turned to you. “You will keep disguising yourself as a manager. Here.”

She handed the square mask she had just removed from her face. “Wear this. Number 007. That’s your number.”

You took it and blinked your eyes at them innocently. “What happened to that guard?”

She stared at you quietly, giving you no response, until she finally answered, “They wouldn’t bother anyone. I hid their body somewhere no one knew.”

You and Gyeong-seok exchanged glances before the latter asked her, “Is that okay? How long have you worked as a pink guard?”

“More than five years,” she answered monotonously.

You and Gyeong-seok exchanged a look of wonderment. No wonder she knows so much about this place and so much more.

She then spoke to you, “In your role, you have authority over the soldiers and workers. The other managers won’t pay much attention to you because managers are expected to know their responsibilities. But be cautious. If you act suspiciously, they will confront you.”

“Why couldn’t she become a soldier too?” Gyeong-seok asked, his tone curious but innocent.

She cast her gaze down. “I considered it, but we need someone in a higher position to protect us if another manager starts questioning us. A manager’s authority will give us more leeway to maneuver without raising alarms.”

Both you and Gyeong-seok nodded understandingly before the latter shifted, adjusting his stance, as he inquired, “How long do we have to do this?”

The lady was quiet for a moment before replying, “Until the game finishes. Once this game ends, we will be sent back outside and you can pretend that nothing happened.”

“We can leave earlier if the players vote for X in the majority, right?” you asked, the thought suddenly striking you.

“Yes, that’s one way to end the game.”

“But because of the lights out and the revolt, the Os will have the majority in the next vote,” Gyeong-seok pointed out.

The lady replied, “Yes. It’s inevitable at this point.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of the situation pressing on all of you. Finally, the lady broke the silence. “We should wrap this up. It’s too risky to stay together for too long. Disperse and stick to the plan.”

But before they could turn away, you spoke up. “Wait. What’s your name? Or your number? And is there a way to tell you apart? It’s hard to identify you among the other pink guards.”

The lady hesitated. She was quiet for a moment as if weighing whether to answer. Finally, she said, “Call me 011.”

You nodded, committing her number to memory. The secrecy surrounding her name didn’t bother you. It made sense. She had been working here as a triangle guard for years, shooting eliminated players and probably so much more. Privacy was likely something she clung to.

Although she was someone who should answer for her ‘duties,’ someone who should be handed over to the police, you still felt a surprising sense of protectiveness toward her.

After all, she had saved you and Gyeong-seok. She had risked herself to help complete strangers. Seeing how the Captain worked, if he found out about 011, he would shoot her for disloyalty. She literally risked her life for you and Gyeong-seok.

“Okay. But we need a way to recognize each other quickly. Something that stands out,” you urged.

Gyeong-seok chimed in. “Yeah, there must be a way to differentiate each other from other guards.”

011 considered this for a moment before nodding. “You’re right. We’ll need something subtle but distinct so the others won’t notice.”

“What about a tear in the fabric?” you suggested. “Small, like at the sleeves or something.”

“Or the shoes,” Gyeong-seok added. “We could scratch or mark the shoes. It’s not obvious, but we’ll know to look for it.”

011 nodded thoughtfully. “Both ideas could work. A small tear on the sleeves and back of the jumpsuit and a mark on the shoes. It’ll be subtle but clear enough for us to recognize.”

The three of you worked together to create the subtle wear-and-tear marks on each other’s top. 011 carefully added a small tear to the sleeves and back of your top and did the same thing to Gyeong-seok. The latter returned the favor to 011, creating a similar mark at her sleeves and back of their jacket. For the shoes, each of you crouched down and made small, deliberate scratches or marks on your own footwear.

As the three of you finished, 011 looked up. “We have to go. Soon enough, workers will begin to restore the CCTVs in the dormitory.”

You and Gyeong-seok nodded.

***

You were walking through the labyrinth of colorful stairs, trying to familiarize yourself with the facility’s map and layout. Disguising yourself as a manager meant you needed to know the space like the back of your hand. Understanding the routes, the shortcuts, and the layout of each level felt crucial to maintaining your cover.

True to 011’s word, the workers and soldiers didn’t bother you at all. They didn’t approach or speak to you, their respect for your supposed role evident in their behavior. When the path became too narrow, they even stepped aside to let you pass first. The managers were different; they simply glanced at you before continuing with their tasks. As long as you didn’t act suspiciously, it seemed none of the guards cared to pay you much attention.

You began to relax slightly, finding some reassurance in the lack of scrutiny. That was until your radio crackled to life. The sudden noise made your steps falter for a moment as an announcement rang out.

“Attention. Managers whose numbers are mentioned next, head to the control room immediately.”

The voice began listing off a series of numbers. You walked forward slowly as you listened closely. Then it came.

“Manager 007.”

You froze mid-step. Anxiety shot up like a rocket, making your pulse thunder in your ears. You were being summoned to the control room. After listing a few more numbers, the radio fell silent again, leaving you standing there.

What could they want? Why were you being called? Questions swirled in your mind as you tried to suppress the rising panic. Forcing your feet to move, you adjusted your posture and straightened your mask. There was no time to think. You had to go.

It took you more than seven minutes to reach the control room. You were proud of yourself for remembering the way, even though you got lost for a moment along the winding corridors. But as soon as you stepped inside, the anxiety that had temporarily eased flared up again.

You joined eight other managers in the center of the control room. The nine of you stood together on the floor where pictures of surviving players lit up.

You couldn’t look at the screen beneath you clearly because standing before you was the masked officer. You didn’t want to do anything that might raise alarm or suspicion. Meanwhile, the Front Man was nowhere to be seen.

The masked officer spoke. “Due to the revolt, half of managers that were supposed to operate these monitors were killed. To maintain operational efficiency, some of you will need to alternate tasks. This will involve manning monitors in the control room, supervising the next game, and guarding the Captain. The nine of you will be the first emergency batch to take on these alternating roles.”

He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. “Those who volunteer to operate monitors now will later switch with others when the next game begins, and guard the Captain during the evening. If you wish to volunteer for the first shift, speak up now.”

There was a beat of silence before one of the managers stepped forward. “019. I volunteer to operate the monitors.”

Another manager followed. “009. I will operate the monitors.”

You stayed quiet. You weren’t sure if volunteering would draw more attention to you, so you let the decision rest with the officer. But as you stood there, mulling over the situation, it struck you.

If you volunteer to operate the monitors now, you could keep an eye on your friends during the next game while you are supervising.

Summoning your resolve, you stepped forward and mirrored the others’ phrasing. “007. I volunteer to operate the monitors first.”

The masked officer nodded. “Understood. You three may begin immediately. The other three managers will replace you in monitor operation when the next game begins. The remaining three will begin manning the monitors this evening.”

The conversation ended there, the masked officer dismissing everyone to their new tasks. Moments later, you found yourself seated at a monitor in the second row from the center. The control room was eerily quiet, the only sounds being the soft clicks and taps from other managers working at their stations. You turned your attention to the monitor in front of you, studying the screen and trying to make sense of your assigned task.

Your monitor displayed four live CCTV feeds, each showing hallways leading to the men’s and women’s restrooms for the players. For now, the feeds were empty, the halls devoid of activity.

At the bottom of the screen, you noticed a small arrow pointing to the right. Clicking it, you realized it brought up another page with four more live feeds. This set displayed the labyrinth of colorful staircases, the vibrant pink walls and intersecting paths looking almost surreal through the grainy CCTV footage.

The soft hum of the control room was disrupted by the sound of the elevator sliding open in the back. Instinctively, you glanced over your shoulder. The elevator was glowing with golden light, a sharp contrast to the muted tones of the control room. It was clear this elevator wasn’t for general use. It carried an air of exclusivity, a touch of grandeur that felt out of place in the stark facility. Then, he stepped out.

The Front Man emerged, his presence immediately commanding the room. He strode forward, his black mask catching the dim light of the massive screens on the walls. His imposing figure radiated power and authority. His second-in-command stepped aside, letting the boss walk past him.

The Front Man came to a stop in the center of the room, his gaze fixed on several dark monitors that should have been displaying the dormitory’s live feeds. Managers, including yourself, kept their heads low. You pretended to focus on the screen of your monitor, but you could feel the tension thick in the air.

“The workers are almost finished replacing the CCTVs in the dormitory,” said the masked officer, stepping forward slightly. “23 players have died due to the lights out and the revolt. The remaining players are now a total of 72.”

The Front Man remained still for a moment, processing the information. Then he spoke, his voice deep and commanding. “We will wait until all CCTVs are operational. Ensure it is completed immediately.”

The masked officer lowered his head in acknowledgment. Then, he raised his radio and began issuing orders. The static crackle of the radio was faint, but you could make out fragments of his commands. He was coordinating workers, urging them to move quickly.

Meanwhile, the Front Man continued to stand at the center of the room. His gaze never left the dark monitors. You felt the weight of his authority pressing down on the room like an invisible force. Though he hadn’t said much, his presence was enough to make everyone hyper-aware of their every move.

The Front Man suddenly turned and began walking toward the first row of monitors closest to the center of the room. Multiple managers were stationed there, each one glued to their tasks, pretending not to notice the imposing figure approaching them. He stopped behind one manager, standing silently as he gazed at the screen in front of them. His posture was unreadable as he was supervising or judging their work.

After a few long moments, he moved and stood behind the next manager, repeating the same process. Standing silently, observing, scrutinizing. The air grew heavier with each step he took. You could almost feel the tension radiating off the other managers as they focused on their screens, hoping to avoid his attention.

Your chest tightened as you watched his slow, deliberate movements. The realization struck you like a hammer.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Is he going to check everyone’s screen now, including mine?

You turned back to your monitor, forcing yourself to focus on the screen in front of you. The live feeds of empty hallways and colorful staircases stared back at you, but your eyes darted across the interface, desperate to find anything else to do. You clicked through the pages again and again, but no matter what you tried, the only thing available was the live feed.

Or maybe you simply didn’t know how to navigate the monitor. Your hands hovered over the keyboard, trembling slightly. Anxiety crept up your spine as you tried to keep your composure. What if he asks me something? What if he realizes I don’t belong here?

Behind you, you could hear the soft shuffling of footsteps as the Captain moved to the next monitor. Each step brought him closer, and with each step, your dread grew. You glanced at the managers near you, trying to gauge their reactions. They were calm, composed, their hands steady as they worked. Or maybe they were just better at hiding their fear than you were.

You clicked through the feeds again, your fingers moving mechanically. The colorful staircases flashed on the screen once more. You tried to focus on the feeds, pretending to study them, but your mind was racing. What am I looking at exactly? Is this all I have to do? What if he notices I’m just pretending?

The footsteps stopped. He was behind someone else now, just three spots away. You didn’t dare look, but you could feel the weight of his presence from across the room. The sound of your own breathing was deafening in your ears. Your fingers tapped lightly against the mouse, an involuntary rhythm born of nerves.

Another step. Now he was just two stations away.

You forced yourself to stare at the screen, willing your hands to stay steady. The live feed showed nothing unusual. It’s just static hallways and staircases. You tried to focus on the smallest details: the faint flicker of the fluorescent lights in one corner of the screen, the subtle shadows cast by the stair railings. Anything to keep your mind occupied.

Then, the footsteps started and then stopped again. You didn’t need to look to know he was behind the manager next to you. The air felt thicker, every second stretching endlessly as you waited. Your heart pounded in your chest, so loud you were sure he could hear it. You braced yourself for what was coming.

And then, finally, the footsteps resumed. He was right behind you now.

You froze, every muscle in your body tensing. The screen in front of you blurred as your focus shattered. You could feel his gaze boring into the back of your head, even though he hadn’t spoken a word. You forced yourself to move the mouse, scrolling through the feeds again as if you were searching for something specific.

Don’t look suspicious. Just act normal.

The silence was unbearable. You wanted to turn around, to see if he was watching your screen, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. All you could do was wait and hope that he didn’t say anything.

To your terror, he was lingering behind you longer than he had with the others. You could feel his presence like a predator assessing its prey. Your pulse quickened as the silence stretched out. His proximity was suffocating. You couldn’t help but notice the subtle scent of leather and something sharp, almost metallic, clinging to him.

And then, something black and shiny appeared in your peripheral vision. His left gloved hand slid into view, inching closer to the monitor in front of you. Your breath hitched as his fingers hovered over the buttons, deliberate and slow, as if seeing your reaction. You froze, your entire body going rigid as you felt the warmth of his presence so close on your back.

With a quiet but decisive click, he pressed a specific button on the control panel. The screen flickered for a moment before changing. It now displayed a detailed interface – a task list for managing the movement of workers and supplies within the facility. Each section was labeled: “Dormitory Maintenance,” “Staircase Surveillance,” “Game Preparation,” and more. You stared at the screen, trying to make sense of the information, but the gravity of his presence made it impossible to focus.

The Front Man withdrew his hand, retreating backward, but you could still feel him there. His silence was deafening, his gaze like a physical weight pressing into your back. Your skin prickled with awareness, and your stomach twisted into knots. There was something unsettlingly intimate about his attention as if he could see straight through you.

Your fingers twitched as you forced yourself to move, to engage with the task on the monitor. But your hand trembled uncontrollably as you hovered over the buttons. You cursed yourself inwardly, willing your body to calm down, but the fear gripping you was relentless, leaving you exposed in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

The Front Man remained behind you, silent and still. You could feel the intensity of his gaze, the unspoken weight of whatever thoughts lingered behind that mask.

As you clicked through the tasks, your mind raced. Was he testing you? Waiting for you to slip up? Or was there something else in his silence, something about the way he lingered? Your skin burned under the weight of his gaze.

That’s when a massive screen on the wall lit up, showing a live feed from the corner of the players’ dormitory. The entire control room’s attention snapped to the glowing screen. The sound of the live recording echoed across the space. Moments later, more massive screens illuminated, each displaying different angles of the dormitory.

Your eyes widened as you absorbed the images in front of you, scanning each feed for any sign of your friends. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of relief as the footage revealed their familiar faces, though their expressions told a story of despair.

In the dormitory, multiple pink soldiers stood rigidly by the walls and in front of the main double doors. They were heavily armed. It was clear they weren’t taking any chances this time. These guards were prepared to crush any sign of rebellion without hesitation.

Among the players, your friends sat huddled on the floor between the bunkbeds. Jun-hee and Yong-sik’s mother clutched each other’s hands tightly, their faces flushed and tear-streaked, as if they had just finished crying their hearts out. Yong-sik sat beside his mother, his body tense, his eyes darting nervously toward the pink guards stationed across the room. Hyun-ju sat directly in front of them, completing their small circle. Her shoulders slumped, and her gaze was distant, the look of someone grappling with despair.

A few feet away, Gi-hun and Jung-bae sat side by side on the staircases. Gi-hun looked utterly defeated, his gaze locked onto the floor, a deep glower etched across his features. His body seemed heavy, weighed down by regret and hopelessness. Beside him, Jung-bae sat pale and wide-eyed, as if still processing the events of the revolt. His disbelief was almost palpable.

Behind them, leaning against the wall on one of the beds, was Dae-ho. He appeared physically fine now, but his demeanor was distant, detached. He stared blankly into space, his expression unreadable. Yet, you noticed the way his gaze occasionally flicked toward Gi-hun and the others. It was subtle, almost hesitant, as if he wanted to join them but couldn’t bring himself to do it. Guilt hung over him like a shadow, isolating him even further.

You frowned as you stared at the live feeds, noticing the growing distance among your group of friends. The weight of everything they had endured was starting to show. Cracks in their dynamic were now evident.

The sound of retreating footsteps caught your attention. You glanced to the side and saw the Front Man walking away from behind you. He moved until he reached the center of the room. Standing tall, he gazed at the monitors displaying the dormitory feeds.

The masked officer stepped closer, his voice cutting through the silence. “Captain, everything is ready for the next vote.”

The Front Man remained still, staring at the screens for a moment longer. Then, with a calm but firm tone, he announced, “Proceed.”

The masked officer bowed his head slightly before stepping back. Raising his radio, he began issuing orders. The sound of static crackled briefly before the commands went through. Moments later, the familiar blaring noise echoed through the dormitory – a sound that indicated something was about to happen.

On the live feeds, you watched as the dormitory’s double doors slid open. A single manager stepped forward, flanked by 16 pink soldiers standing in perfect formation. The room went quiet as the manager began to speak, “Due to the brawl in the men's bathroom, the lights out and your failed attempt of a revolt, 27 players have been eliminated.”

The manager paused as the sound of bills dropping into the piggy bank suspended near the ceiling echoed throughout the dormitory, drawing every player's attention to the accumulating prize.

“The remaining players are now a total of 73. Based on these eliminations, an additional 2.7 billion won has been added to the prize pool. The current total now stands at 38.3 billion won. If the remaining 73 players choose to vote to leave, each player will receive an equal share of the accumulated prize money of 524 million won per player.”

Most of the players – the O players – erupted into murmurs of amazement at the staggering numbers announced, their expressions lighting up with greed and excitement. They didn’t seem to care that this money represented the lives of the players who had died. It was as if the reality of those losses had been completely overshadowed by the sheer allure of wealth. In contrast, the X players exchanged uneasy glances.

The manager’s voice cut through the noise. “The next vote will begin immediately.”

Once everything was in place, the players shuffled to the back of the center, gathering as they waited for their turn. The atmosphere was heavy with anticipation. The voting counter stood ominously at the front.

“Player 006,” the manager called out.

A female player stepped forward. She approached the voting counter, and as you watched her walk, your mind wandered to someone who should have been called before her – Young-il, player 001.

His number had been skipped. The confirmation was undeniable: Young-il’s death was finalized. It was an unchangeable fact now etched into this twisted game. Your gaze fell to the floor, your heart heavy with grief. The memory of him flashed vividly in your mind. His quiet strength, his protective nature, the way he’d look at you with a mix of determination and warmth. He was gone, and you hadn’t even had the chance to mourn him properly.

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away. This wasn’t the time or place. Still, the weight of his absence was suffocating, wrapping around your chest like a vice. You felt your eyes brim with tears and quickly looked up, hoping to dry them and reduce the risk of them spilling.

You thought of his voice, the way he’d call your name in that calm yet firm tone. You thought of the plan you’d made to meet outside of this nightmare. Seonyudo Park. One month after. At sunset. And now, that plan was gone. He was gone. The thought threatened to crush you, but you forced yourself to stay composed. You couldn’t afford to fall apart. Not here, not now.

The line continued to dwindle, the vote inching closer to its conclusion. And yet, all you could think about was the empty space where Young-il should have been. His absence was a gaping wound, one that no amount of time or wealth could ever heal.

In fifteen minutes, the voting concluded, and the result was no surprise: the majority voted for O. You had braced yourself for this outcome, knowing it was inevitable. After all, so many X players had been eliminated during the lights out and Gi-hun’s failed uprising plan. Hopelessness settled over you like a heavy weight. The realization that the X players were now outnumbered and powerless was unbearable.

You glanced at the group of X players. Some of them had started crying silently, their tears rolling down their cheeks without a sound. Their expressions carried the despair of knowing they were being forced to continue playing this deadly game, robbed of any semblance of choice.

It was a stark contrast to the O players, who erupted in jubilant cheers, their voices echoing across the dormitory like a cruel mockery of those in despair. Some clapped and shouted, grinning widely as they celebrated their supposed triumph over the X players. It was as if they had forgotten – or chose to ignore – that every win came at the cost of someone else's life.

“Based on the majority vote,” the manager announced, their voice cold and detached, “we will proceed with the next game right away. Please form four lines immediately.”

Suddenly, the masked officer standing behind the Front Man spoke up, “Manager 019, 009, and 007, you may proceed to your next task.”

The announcement made your stomach tighten. You had been so focused on the voting process that you almost forgot you were supposed to supervise the next game. You rose from your seat, noticing the other two managers standing as well. They turned and headed for the door, and you followed close behind. You didn’t know what to expect, but the chance to leave the control room – especially the Captain’s suffocating presence – was a small relief.

The next thing you knew, you entered a massive room. Your breath caught as you took in the sight before you. Two gargantuan dolls dominated the space, one instantly recognizable as the girl from Red Light, Green Light. The other was a boy wearing a cap, his face carved with the same eerie precision. The two dolls faced one another, separated by a large gap. In the middle of that gap was a massive conveyor belt, its path forming a wide, perfect circle between the two dolls. Numbers, like those on a clock, surrounded the conveyor belt. The number twelve was positioned directly in front of the boy doll, while the number six faced the girl doll.

On the east side of the conveyor belt, you noticed a railroad crossing sign. Its green and red lights were currently off, but its presence added another layer of confusion to you. To the west was a large playhouse, brightly colored. It faced the conveyor belt and the dolls. A staircase at the back of the playhouse led up into it, while a children’s slide curved down from the front.

Your mind raced, trying to piece together what the next game could be. The surreal setup was unsettling, but you couldn’t afford to let your curiosity show. Asking questions could draw unnecessary attention and make you seem suspicious.

“One of us will manage the game operation,” manager 019 said, breaking the silence. Their voice was steady as they glanced between you and manager 009. “If none of you volunteer, I’ll operate it. Any objections?”

You turned to manager 009, who nodded and replied, “Okay. I’ll watch from the side.”

Then manager 019’s attention shifted to you. “How about you?”

You fell silent, weighing your options carefully. You wanted to keep an eye on your friends, maybe even find a way to help them, but the truth was, you had no idea how to operate this game. If you made mistakes, you’d draw suspicion, and that was a risk you couldn’t afford. After a moment of deliberation, you decided it was best to observe first, learn how the game worked, and then figure out your next move.

“I’m fine with that,” you replied, shaking your head to manager 019’s question.

Manager 019 gave a nod and walked toward the playhouse. As manager 009 moved to another area, you kept your gaze fixed on manager 019, watching them ascend the stairs into the brightly colored structure. Through the small windows of the playhouse, you could see them take a position at the window facing the dolls and look down at something.

It was at that moment the conveyor belt began to hum softly, coming to life. Lights flickered on above the dolls and the conveyor belt, illuminating the massive room in a surreal glow. As the machinery moved, your eyes were drawn upward to the ceiling. It was then you noticed the intricate paintings covering the wallpaper and ceiling.

Above the boy doll was a crescent moon painted on the ceiling, casting a calm, nighttime aura over the walls on his side. On the other hand, above the girl doll was a vibrant sunset, warm and evocative of the end of the day. Suddenly, the numbers on the conveyor belt made sense. Twelve o’clock corresponded to Cheol-su and the moon – midnight. Six o’clock was aligned with Young-hee and the sunset – evening. But even with these details falling into place, you still couldn’t figure out what kind of game this was.

“007, please check the lights beneath the conveyor belt in front of Cheol-su,” manager 009’s voice broke through your thoughts. “I will check the other lights near Young-hee.”

You nodded and glanced around. Assuming that Cheol-su was the boy doll, you walked over to his side of the conveyor belt. Sure enough, there was a light projector beneath the conveyor belt at the 12 o’clock mark. As you inspected it, manager 019 did something from their position in the playhouse. Suddenly, more sections of the conveyor belt lit up at the 3, 6, and 9 o’clock positions. You stared at the glowing sections, wondering what the game would entail and what purpose the lights served.

The sound of approaching footsteps pulled your attention back to the present. A group of triangle guards entered the massive room. Behind them came the rest of the players, their expressions a mix of confusion and fear.

“What the hell is this?” one voice called out, tinged with panic.

“Why are there two of them now?” another player asked, pointing at the towering Cheol-su and Young-hee.

Then, the first announcement answered to their questions:

“Welcome to your fourth game. The game you will be playing is Open, Dongdaemun.”

Your eyes widened at the name of the game, a childhood classic one you'd played in kindergarten before. The reaction among the players was immediate. Some began to exchange uneasy glances as realization dawned on them. Jun-hee and the mother shared a worried look. Gi-hun stood quietly, his wide eyes darting around solemnly.

The announcer continued, “All players, please step onto the conveyor belt. Place your hands on the shoulders of the player in front of you to mimic a train. When the game starts, the railroad crossing sign will turn green, and the conveyor belt will move clockwise. The song Open, Dongdaemun will begin to play and mention a number in a clock. When the crossing sign turns red, the conveyor belt will stop, and the numbered area mentioned last in the song will be the area of elimination.”

You felt a chill run down your spine as you listened.

“Four players standing on the selected time will be eliminated.”

The gravity of the announcement hit everyone at once. Whispers of fear filled the air as the players tried to grasp the mechanics of the game. The circle guards soon entered the room to assist in the preparations.

You caught sight of Jun-hee glancing nervously at Yong-sik’s mother, who tried to offer a comforting squeeze of her hand. Gi-hun stared at the conveyor belt, his jaw clenched tightly in suppressed tension. Hyun-ju kept her gaze fixed on the floor, her shoulders hunched as if she was still drowning in despair. Dae-ho lingered a few steps behind the group, hesitating like he couldn’t bring himself to close the gap. Then, you noticed Jung-bae approach him, gently patting his back. Dae-ho flinched slightly at the contact, his expression flickering with unease before he glanced at Jung-bae with a hesitant nod.

Jung-bae gently guided Dae-ho into the group, placing him right beside Gi-hun. Dae-ho avoided meeting Gi-hun’s gaze, his eyes fixed on the floor instead. In that moment, you sensed a lingering tension between them, something unspoken but heavy. Was it because of Dae-ho’s failure to deliver the ammunition during the revolt?

“All players, please step onto the conveyor belt,” the announcer said.

Players began stepping hesitantly onto the unmoving conveyor belt. A few lingered at the edges, their reluctance clear in the way they glanced nervously at the dolls and the machinery. The circle guards moved and guided them into position. One by one, the players were arranged in a single-file line on the conveyor belt, all facing clockwise as instructed.

Once they were in place, the workers bent down and began locking the players’ legs into clamps attached to the conveyor belt. The metal clamps snapped shut around their ankles with an audible click. The players shifted uneasily, realizing the clamps rendered them immobile. Escape was no longer an option.

When the workers finished, they gestured for the players to place their hands on the shoulders of the person in front of them, mimicking the formation of a train. The players obeyed. The workers gave everything a final check before retreating to the walls.

The voice of the announcer echoed through the massive room. “Let the fourth game begin.”

A low hum signaled the conveyor belt coming to life. It began moving clockwise at a slow, deliberate pace. The sudden motion startled the players, and a few gasped audibly. Some tightened their grip on the shoulders in front of them for balance, while others stiffened, their bodies tensing as they tried to adjust.

Above them, the lights flickered on, casting intricate patterns onto the players and the conveyor belt. Then, the music began.

“Open the East, East, East Grand Gate. Open the South, South, South Grand Gate. When it’s twelve sharp, the Gates are closed.”

But then, the music repeated, and it picked up speed. The conveyor belt responded in kind, moving faster with each repetition of the song. The sudden acceleration made some players gasp in alarm, and a few stumbled slightly before regaining their footing.

“Open the East, East, East Grand Gate. Open the South, South, South Grand Gate. When it’s three sharp, the Gates are closed.”

A sharp ping rang out, silencing the music. The railroad crossing sign turned red, and the conveyor belt came to an abrupt halt. The players nearly fell forward from the sudden stop, but they quickly steadied themselves, clutching the shoulders in front of them for support. A heavy silence fell over the room as everyone processed what had just happened.

Then, the three o’clock area on the conveyor belt lit up with a vivid glow. The light illuminated four players standing in that section, their expressions quickly shifting to panic. The other players turned their heads, their faces pale as they stared at the unlucky individuals caught in the spotlight. The room seemed to hold its breath as the realization set in: those four were marked for elimination.

One of the players in the lit area began shaking their head in disbelief. “No, no, please…”

Four triangle guards appeared beside the conveyor belt. They raised their MP5s, aiming directly at the four players who had begun pleading desperately for mercy. The players’ cries echoed in the vast room, but the guards didn’t hesitate. A series of deafening gunshots filled the air as they opened fire, their bullets tearing through the marked individuals. The remaining players flinched in terror, some even letting out muffled sobs. You felt yourself flinch as well, but you quickly masked your reaction, forcing yourself to remain composed. Drawing attention to yourself was the last thing you needed.

The lifeless bodies of the four players collapsed onto the conveyor belt, their blood pooling beneath them and spreading across the surface. The sight made several players avert their eyes, their expressions twisted with horror and dread. As the tension in the room reached a suffocating peak, the voice of the announcer rang out once again:

“All players, please wait while the workers clean up.”

From the far side of the room, a group of circle guards began to approach. They moved efficiently, splitting into two teams – one to handle the cleanup and the other to tend to the surviving players. The latter team of workers crouched beside the players, unlocking their clamps temporarily. Then, the players were instructed to step aside as the bodies were removed. Once the area was cleared, the guards guided the players back into position, ensuring they filled the gaps left by the deceased. The clamps were locked back onto their ankles.

You took in the scene with a heavy heart. The game was merciless, and the players – your friends among them – were being subjected to unthinkable terror. You couldn’t dwell on it for too long, though. With purpose in your steps, you turned away and began ascending the staircase toward the playhouse.

The interior of the playhouse was cramped but functional, designed to mimic the living room and kitchen of a house while also being made for the sole purpose of operating the mechanics of the game. Manager 019 stood by the controls, their posture relaxed but their focus sharp. As you stepped inside, they glanced over and addressed you.

“What is it? You want to operate this?”

You hesitated briefly before responding. “Yes, but this second round is yours.”

Manager 019 gave a curt nod. “Okay. You can have your turn after the fourth round. Then Manager 009 can take over after your eighth round. That way it’s fair for all three of us getting four rounds each.”

You stayed silent, processing their words. Beneath the square mask concealing your face, your brow furrowed in concern. Twelve rounds. This game would have twelve rounds in total. The realization hit you like a blow to the chest. Your friends would have to endure this ordeal twelve times.

The next round began with the manager pressing on a large green button on the control panel. The railroad crossing sign turned green, and the conveyor belt began its slow, deliberate movement. Above, the lights flickered on, casting those strange, spiraling patterns over the players. The familiar melody of the song started again:

“Open the East, East, East Grand Gate. Open the South, South, South Grand Gate. When it’s twelve sharp, the Gates are closed.”

Twelve. You mentally noted the number.

The song repeated, this time picking up speed. The conveyor belt followed suit, its pace quickening enough to make a few players grip the shoulders in front of them harder.

“Open the East, East, East Grand Gate. Open the South, South, South Grand Gate. When it’s three sharp, the Gates are closed.”

Three. The number registered in your mind, but you barely had time to dwell on it before the song repeated again. The pace was almost frantic now, the conveyor belt spinning faster and faster. A few players stumbled slightly, their nervous gasps audible even over the music.

“Open the East, East, East Grand Gate. Open the South, South, South Grand Gate. When it’s six sharp, the Gates are closed.”

Six. You held your breath. The song looped back once more, but this time, the tempo eased. The conveyor belt slowed to match, giving the players a brief reprieve.

“Open the East, East, East Grand Gate. Open the South, South, South Grand Gate. When it’s nine sharp, the Gates are closed.”

Nine. You noted the number, but the brief relief of the slower pace was quickly overshadowed by manager 019’s movements.

Their gloved hand hovered over a bright red button before pressing it firmly, causing a sharp ping to echo through the room. The railroad crossing sign turned red, and the conveyor belt came to an abrupt halt. The music cut off abruptly, leaving behind a deafening silence that hung heavy in the air.

Manager 019 reached out and pressed the button labeled with the number ‘9.’ It was one of a series of numbered buttons aligned in a row, including ‘12,’ ‘3,’ and ‘6.’ As their gloved finger made contact, the nine o’clock section of the conveyor belt lit up abruptly, casting an intense, unforgiving glow onto the four players standing in that area.

Their faces drained of color as they realized what it meant. The rest of the players turned to look, their expressions ranging from shock to pure terror.

One of the four players began to tremble. “No, no, please.”

The triangle guards stepped forward without hesitation. Each guard took a position beside one of the marked players. The players began pleading, their voices desperate and raw, but the guards raised their MP5s, their fingers steady on the triggers. Without a word, the guards fired.

The gunshots were deafening, each one echoing in your chest. The marked players fell limp, their bodies collapsing onto the conveyor belt. Blood spread across the surface as the remaining players recoiled in horror. Some clamped their hands over their mouths to stifle their cries, while others turned their heads away, unable to look.

“All players, please wait while the workers clean up,” the announcer’s voice rang out.

The circle guards entered once again as they removed the lifeless bodies from the conveyor belt. Other workers crouched to unlock the clamps of the surviving players, guiding them to close the gap left by the fallen. The conveyor belt was reset, and the clamps were resecured.

You glanced at manager 019 as they stood by the controls. Then, your gaze shifted upward to the ceiling of the playhouse. There, mounted inconspicuously, was a CCTV camera overlooking the entire space. Your stomach tightened. You have to take care of that first.

While the workers were still cleaning up the scene, you stepped outside of the playhouse and descended the staircase. Your movements were purposeful as you strode toward the line of triangle guards standing by the wall. Your eyes scanned their jumpsuits and shoes, searching for the subtle marks you, 011, and Gyeong-seok had made to identify one another in the sea of pink uniforms.

The soldiers remained silent, respecting your role without a question. One by one, you scrutinized their outfits, keeping your movements casual to avoid drawing suspicion. Finally, you spotted them – 011 and 014 – standing beside each other, their MP5s slung across their chests. Their attention were already locked on you.

“011 and 014,” you called out, your voice distorted by the square mask.

“Anything I could help with, manager?” 011 asked.

“Follow me,” you instructed without missing a beat.

The two of them obeyed immediately, falling into step behind you as you led them back toward the playhouse. Your eyes darted around the room, ensuring no one was too close to overhear. Once you were certain the path was clear, you lowered your voice and spoke quickly but firmly.

“I want to manipulate the game in the next rounds. But there’s a CCTV in that playhouse.”

011 responded immediately, “Leave it to me. I just need you to distract the guard first.”

You nodded, relief mixing with the tension building in your chest. The plan was risky, but it was your only option if you wanted to take control and help your friends. Just as you were about to say more, the speakers crackled to life, and an announcement echoed through the room.

“Let the third round begin.”

The mechanical hum of the conveyor belt filled the space as the railroad crossing sign turned green. The familiar melody of Open, Dongdaemun began to play once more.

“Open the East, East, East Grand Gate. Open the South, South, South Grand Gate. When it’s twelve sharp, the Gates are closed.”

You ascended the stairs, 011 and 014 trailing close behind. But before you could reach the top, a sharp ping echoed through the room, cutting through the eerie melody of the game. The railroad crossing sign turned red. It came sooner than you expected, making you freeze mid-step. Your head snapped toward the conveyor belt.

The twelve section of the conveyor belt lit up, its harsh glow illuminating the players standing in that spot. Four… no, five players were there. Your breath hitched as your eyes widened in fear. Among them were three random players whose faces you barely recognized… and the kind mother and Jun-hee.

“No,” you whispered under your breath, dread pooling in your stomach.

The announcer’s female voice rang out over the speakers, “Attention. Only four players are to be eliminated each round. The five players standing on the twelve section must now decide among themselves. One player will be spared, and the remaining four will be eliminated. You have one minute to come to a decision. Failure to reach a unanimous decision will result in the elimination of all five players.”

Flickering lights were cast from the ceiling, quickening the heartbeat of every player in the room. An LED timer flickered to life on the floor in the middle of the conveyor belt circle, its large numbers beginning the one-minute countdown. The pressure in the air was almost palpable as the reality of the moment settled in.

The mother’s eyes darted between the random players and Jun-hee, who was already trembling violently behind her. The room seemed to shrink, the oppressive silence only broken by the overlapping voices of the random players as they fiercely argued for their lives.

“I have a child back home!” one of the players shouted, their voice cracking with desperation. “I need to go back to them! How can you ask me to give up my life?”

“We all have something to live for!” another spat back, their fists clenched. “You don’t get to use that as an excuse to save yourself.”

The third player, visibly shaking, clutched her chest as she spoke, her words spilling out in a frantic rush. “Please, just let me live. I’ll… I’ll do anything! I can’t die here. Please!”

Amid the heated debate, Jun-hee’s sobs grew louder. Tears streamed down her face, her breathing uneven as she clung desperately and tremblingly to the mother’s hand. You realized then just how deeply Jun-hee had grown attached to the mother, seeing her as a maternal figure. This bond, forged in fear and mutual care, made the thought of being separated unbearable for Jun-hee. Her cries weren’t just of fear for her life but of losing the woman who had comforted and protected her when everything else seemed lost.

The mother turned to her, her expression softening despite the chaos around them. She placed both hands on Jun-hee’s shoulders, steadying her.

“Jun-hee,” she said gently, her voice warm and calming despite the tremor beneath it. She looked like she was about to start crying too but she tried to be strong for the pregnant girl. “Listen to me. You have to stay strong. You… you have to survive. For your baby.”

Jun-hee shook her head frantically, her face red and wet with tears. “No! No, I don't want... you to die! Please, no!”

Her sobs became louder, her hands gripping the mother’s tightly, refusing to let go.

The mother’s lips trembled, but she forced a small, reassuring smile. “You’re carrying a life, Jun-hee. That’s more important than anything else. I… I’ve lived my life. But I'm sad...”

She paused, causing Jun-hee to stare at her with wide eyes. The mother smiled warmly at her and said, “I'm sad that I couldn't be there to help you deliver your baby... I'm sorry, okay?”

“No, you can’t say that!” Jun-hee cried, clinging to her as though letting go would make her disappear. “You can’t die here! I… Please no!”

Across the room, Yong-sik – who was standing behind Jun-hee – stood paralyzed, tears streaming down his face as he watched his mother and Jun-hee. His hands covered his mouth, his sobs muffled but no less heart-wrenching. He stumbled forward slightly, as though his body wanted to reach his mother but due to the clamps around his ankles, he couldn't.

“Mom!” Yong-sik’s voice cracked as he finally spoke. “Mom!”

The mother turned to him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Yong-sik, you need to be strong. Take care of Jun-hee. Take care of yourself. No more gambling. That’s all I want.”

Hyun-ju, standing behind Yong-sik, began to cry, her lips trembling uncontrollably as sadness overtook her. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her voice cracked as she called the mother using the halmeoni title. The mother turned to her with a warm, tearful smile, her eyes glistening with emotion. “Hyun-ju, I pray that you survive. You are strong and beautiful, inside and out, and I am so proud to have known you.”

Hyun-ju’s knees wobbled slightly as she lowered her gaze, her shoulders trembling under the weight of the mother’s words. Tears poured down her cheeks more freely.

Gi-hun, standing in the distance, was already frowning in extreme sadness. His eyes were moist with unshed tears, threatening to spill. He was speechless, the weight of everything he’d lost crushing him. He had gotten attached to this group. They were more than just players to him; they had become his friends and family in this nightmare. Watching this scene unfold only deepened his anguish, and he stood frozen, unsure of how to even begin processing the pain of yet another looming loss.

“No, no, no,” Jung-bae muttered under his breath, his hands trembling uncontrollably. His voice cracked with raw emotion, and his eyes glistened with unshed tears as he stared at the scene unfolding in front of him.

"Not them... not like this," he whispered, his usual optimism and humor buried under the weight of the moment. For once, his voice held no levity, only a deep, aching sorrow that reflected his helplessness.

Dae-ho stood farther back, tears already streaming down his face. He quickly brought his hands to his face, wiping them furiously, as if he didn’t want anyone to see him like this. Still, his emotions betrayed him. His trembling shoulders and red-rimmed eyes revealed just how deeply affected he was by the scene unfolding before him.

The three random players continued their heated argument, their voices rising and overlapping. One of them turned to Jun-hee and the mother, their tone sharp. “We don’t have time for this! Do you think your life is more important than ours?”

Jun-hee flinched at the words, her sobs intensifying. The mother stepped in front of her protectively, her expression firm, though her lips trembled.

“Don’t talk to her like that,” she said, her voice steady despite the tears in her eyes. “She’s pregnant. She’s the one who should survive.”

The random players exchanged tense glances. One of them, trembling with frustration, finally spat out, “Why is she even here in the first place? We’re all fighting for our lives, and being pregnant doesn’t mean she deserves to live more than the rest of us!”

Another player nodded quickly, latching onto the argument. “Exactly! We’ve all got reasons to live. A baby doesn’t make her special!”

The tension reached its breaking point when player 333, standing behind Dae-ho, shouted, “Are you that selfish? That inhumane? You’d let a pregnant girl die just to save your own skin? She’s carrying a life, for God’s sake! What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

The words echoed across the room, silencing the arguing players for a brief moment. But the desperation remained as the timer continued to count down. Every second felt like a hammer driving nails into the fragile hope that hung in the air.

Meanwhile, your heart pounded like a drum as you slipped into the playhouse. Manager 019 stood at the controls, their gloved hands poised over the buttons as they monitored the game from the small window. The scene outside was a horrifying spectacle, but your focus was razor-sharp. You had to act fast.

“019,” you said firmly, stepping closer to the control panel. The urgency in your voice was masked by the distorted tone of your square mask, but it caught their attention. They glanced at you.

“What is it?” they asked, their voice impatient.

You gestured toward the controls. “I need some clarification. There’s a discrepancy in the task parameters.”

As manager 019 turned their full attention to you, you made sure to block their view of the room behind them. Soldier 011, moving with quiet precision, slipped toward the CCTV camera mounted in the corner of the playhouse. She was careful to not get captured in the live feed. With one swift motion, 011 smashed the camera’s lens with the butt of their MP5, the sound of breaking glass ringing out sharply.

Manager 019 stiffened at the noise, spinning around. Their eyes darted toward 011.

“What the hell are you doing?” they barked, reaching for the radio clipped to their belt.

Without thinking, you lunged at them, grabbing their arm to stop them from making the call.

“Get the radio!” you shouted to 011 as you struggled against manager 019’s surprisingly strong resistance.

The two of you grappled, your movements frantic and desperate. 011 joined the fight, trying to pull the radio away, but manager 019 managed to shake you both off with a burst of strength. They stumbled back, reaching for the device again.

But before they could, soldier 014 – Gyeong-seok in disguise – appeared and struck them hard across the head with the butt of the weapon. The force of the blow sent them crumpling to the floor, unconscious.

The room fell into a tense silence. Your heart pounded in your chest, the adrenaline coursing through you making your hands tremble.

“Five.”

Your eyes widened. It was the countdown. Five seconds left for the five players to come to a decision.

“Four.”

Panic seized your thoughts, but you forced yourself into action. You straightened up and rushed to the control panel. Without hesitation, your hand slammed onto the green button you had seen Manager 019 press earlier to start the round.

Suddenly, the railroad crossing sign turned green, and the conveyor belt roared to life, rotating clockwise. The sudden movement caused nearly all the players to stumble in surprise, their startled gasps echoing through the room. Then the familiar, haunting melody began to play again:

“Open the East, East, East Grand Gate. Open the South, South, South Grand Gate. When it’s twelve sharp, the Gates are closed.”

The room was consumed by confusion. Players’ eyes were wide and frantic as they tried to comprehend what had just happened. Jun-hee and the mother stood frozen for a moment, their faces pale and drenched in fear. Then, as the realization dawned on them that they were no longer in immediate danger, they stared at one another in disbelief.

To them, it must have felt like divine intervention. A miracle had spared them from the brutal fate just seconds ago. You could see it in their tear-filled eyes, the way they clung to each other's hands as though afraid this reprieve might vanish at any moment.

But for you, the weight of the moment pressed down like a vice. Sweat dripped from your brow as your hands hovered over the panel. The reality of the situation hit you like a freight train. You are now operating the game. The lives of everyone on that conveyor belt – your friends, strangers, everyone – are in your hands.

“Open the East, East, East Grand Gate. Open the South, South, South Grand Gate. When it’s three sharp, the Gates are closed.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, anxiety clawing its way up your chest. The weight of what you were doing – what you were responsible for – hung over you like a storm cloud. But you had made it here for a reason, hadn’t you? To help your friends. To protect Jun-hee and the mother. You had saved them, hadn’t you? You couldn’t stop now. The game had to go on or else the Front Man will get suspicious. And you had to make sure your friends stayed safe, no matter the cost.

The song repeated, faster now, its tempo quickening as the conveyor belt sped up to match:

“Open the East, East, East Grand Gate. Open the South, South, South Grand Gate. When it’s six sharp, the Gates are closed.”

Your eyes darted across the conveyor belt, scanning for your friends. Relief washed over you when you confirmed they weren’t near the six section. Your hand moved almost mechanically as you pressed the red button. A sharp ping cut through the air, the signal that froze everything in place. The railroad crossing sign turned red, and the conveyor belt ground to an abrupt halt. The haunting music stopped.

You felt your breath hitch as you mimicked what manager 019 had done before. This time, your finger pressed firmly on the button labeled ‘6.” A floodlight illuminated the six section on the conveyor belt, casting an unforgiving glow on the players caught there.

Four players stood in that section, their faces pale and their bodies trembling as the reality of their situation set in. All of them were O players. The ones who had dominated the vote. The ones who had celebrated the prize money without a second thought for the lives lost. Now, they were the ones begging for mercy.

“Please! Don’t do this!”

Another dropped to their knees despite the clamps around their ankles. “I’ll do anything! Please, let me live! I have a family! I can’t die here!”

Four triangle guards marched forward. They raised their MP5s, the barrels gleaming under the harsh lights. The players’ desperate pleas hung in the air, but the guards fired without hesitation. The sharp crack of gunfire shattered the room, cutting through the cries and leaving only silence in its wake.

You stared at the scene in a trance, your hands trembling as they hovered over the controls. The enormity of what you had done crashed over you like a tidal wave. You had made this choice. You had pressed the buttons that sealed their fate. Your body froze as the sickening thud of their bodies hitting the conveyor belt reverberated through the room.

That’s when the radio in your jumpsuit’s pocket crackled to life. A deep, distorted voice came through:

“Manager 007, what happened?”

The words sent a cold shiver racing down your spine. Your skin prickled with goosebumps as the realization struck you. It was the Front Man. His voice was as chilling and authoritative as ever, and it held an unspoken expectation for a swift and precise response.

For a moment, your mind went blank, panic threatening to overwhelm you. Before you could speak, soldier 011 stepped closer, her voice distorted behind that mask. “Tell him it’s a maintenance delay. Say the conveyor belt calibration triggered a temporary shutdown and it accidentally restarted.”

You swallowed hard and took a deep breath, your fingers gripping the radio tightly. Pressing the button, you spoke, forcing your voice to remain steady despite the racing of your heart.

“Maintenance delay, captain,” you said, the distortion of the mask hiding the tremor in your tone. “The conveyor belt triggered a temporary shutdown and it accidentally restarted. Everything is now under control.”

The silence that followed was agonizing. You could almost feel the Front Man’s scrutiny through the radio. You could even feel his suffocating presence behind you. Seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity before his voice came through again.

“Proceed.”

The radio went silent, and you released the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Your hands trembled slightly as you shoved the radio back into your pocket.

“You okay?” Gyeong-seok, still in his disguise, asked, his voice filled with concern.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you took a few shaky steps backward, hoping to ground yourself, to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions and chaos swirling around you.

“Be care—” Gyeong-seok began, but his words were cut short as your foot caught against something hard. You stumbled but 011 and Gyeong-seok were quick to react. Their hands gripped your shoulders firmly, steadying you before you could fall.

You turned your head and saw what had caused your stumble – the unconscious body of manager 019 sprawled on the floor. The sight made your stomach twist, a stark reminder of how far things had spiraled out of control.

“Crouch down. Let’s switch masks,” 011 said suddenly.

You glanced at her, your eyes widening in confusion.

“I’ll take over the control panel,” she explained. “I’ll make sure your friends stay safe.”

“Yeah,” Gyeong-seok chimed in. “I’ll guide her, point out which players are our friends. Or she could just focus on targeting the O players.”

You hesitated for a moment, your mind racing. After a brief pause, you nodded. Together, you and 011 crouched down, keeping out of sight beneath the tiny windows of the playhouse.

With trembling hands, you removed your square mask, the cool air hitting your flushed, sweaty face like a relief and a punishment all at once. Your hair clung damply to your skin, the hours spent in the stifling mask and jumpsuit leaving you uncomfortably sticky. Across from you, 011 did the same, her face equally damp.

The exchange was quick. She handed you her triangle mask, and you passed her the square one. Both of you adjusted the masks over your heads, the switch complete in a matter of seconds. The moment her mask was secure, 011 stood and moved to the control panel, taking over with quiet efficiency.

For the rest of the game, she worked in near silence, her hands steady on the controls. Occasionally, Gyeong-seok pointed something out to her but you tuned it out. You stayed where you were, seated on the floor, hidden from view. The coldness of the floor seeped into your body, but it was nothing compared to the icy guilt gnawing at your insides.

Your mind kept replaying the moment you pressed the buttons, the way the floodlight illuminated the O players, the way their desperate pleas filled the air before they were silenced forever. They had celebrated their majority vote, their victory over the X players, but that didn’t erase the humanity in their fear. You had sealed their fate. Their bloods were on your hands.

“Hey,” 011’s voice broke through the thick silence, her tone unexpectedly gentle. You glanced up at her from where you sat on the floor, your body still tense from everything that had just transpired. She kept her gaze fixed on the players through the tiny window of the playhouse, her hands steady on the controls.

“What’s your task after this?” she asked, her voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of something heavier. Concern, maybe.

You hesitated, your eyes drifting to the floor as you tried to recall the next step in your role.

“I… I will guard the Captain this evening,” you answered, your voice quieter than you intended.

Her silence that followed was tense. The weight of her unspoken thoughts seemed to hang in the air, pressing down on you. Gyeong-seok, standing beside her but a step behind, glanced between the two of you, his curiosity barely hidden.

Finally, 011 spoke again, her voice lower and more solemn than before. “Be careful. Whatever he asks you to do, just do it. Don’t question it. Just follow through.”

Her words made your chest tighten. The weight of what she was implying wasn’t lost on you.

“But,” she added after a pause, “if you can’t handle it… if it’s too much…”

She hesitated for the briefest of moments before continuing, “Just reveal your face.”

Your eyes widened in shock, and you turned your head sharply to look at her. Gyeong-seok’s head swiveled toward her too, his posture stiff with tension.

011, still wearing the square mask, didn’t turn to look at you. She kept her focus on the scene outside. “Once he knows who you are, he will spare you.”

Her statement hung in the air. You couldn’t comprehend it at first. Why would the Captain – the Front Man – spare you? What did she know that you didn’t? Questions swirled in your mind, but you couldn’t find the words to ask them. All you could do was stare at her in disbelief.

NEXT : Chapter 16

PREV : Chapter 14

Story Masterlist

This is the Dongdaemun song (don't mention about this story in the YouTube comments) I used to envision the fourth game. This is not what will happen in the Season 3 because I made this all up using all the clues we got from the post-credit ending. Still, I'm curious to know what's your theory on the fourth game is.

Please feel free to leave comments and feedback about my story, the characters, the "you", and practically anything! I love reading your comments, especially long ones! It motivates me a lot! So what do you feel about the Front Man asking all managers to see him personally? Do you think he wouldn't notice about your stunt? I think I should write about his POV because there are so many things happening behind your back. Since this is a 'you' POV, you couldn't really tell what's going on. Next, we finally get to see 011's face. Those who guessed it right in the previous chapter, you're correct. Now, what do you think about the Masked Officer suddenly calling you and eight others to be the first 'emergency batch' to alternate tasks? Then the part when the Front Man was right behind you and supervising you closely? Do you feel that nervousness yourself? Next, how do you think I wrote the voting process? And then, the fourth game. What are your thoughts on this fourth game I wrote? Do you think it makes sense with all the clues from the post-credit ending of Season 2? Do you think it's brutal? And then that part of Jun-hee and the mother. I really want to know your reaction on this! Anyway, thank you very much for giving my story a chance. I love reading and re-reading all of your comments!

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

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

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