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rose-maidenn · 3 days ago

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Pick a card : Your 2025 , predictions based on each month

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Hey guys how are you Happy New Year ＼(^-^)／ , I know I delayed a bit (^.^) for this one but hope you enjoy this , if you resonate like and reblog and gimme feedbacks cause that's what keeps me motivated to post 🫶🦢🩷✨️

If you do like my work and would want an in depth reading please check out my :

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Pile 1 :

January

I see you starting the year kind of defeated by the previous year it was really hard and tiring for you and tested your faith a lot , you had to make hard choices, I see that you are stuck in a toxic situation or obsessing over something that doesn't serve you . I see that by middle of January it will get better , I do see turmoil in the start but breakthrough is near and it's for you . You will go out to picnics by the end , water bodies will help you , avoid fast food alrighty and make a vision board baby cause this is your year alright .

February

Like I said circumstances will improve I see a quick change of mood in February, is it your birth month ? Celebrations are around . You will feel protected in February things will feel sweeter . You will make a quick decision that will prove to be extremely beneficial for you this maybe about getting in a relationship or joining therapy as well . You might learn more about emotional regulation and heal your heart chakra . You will be grounded in your body and approach life with meaning .

March

There's stubborn energy in march , you are still Taking things slow and steady , the next chapter of your life is about freedom and not in the sense of travelling places alone but in a sense of freedom from other people's judgements and approval I see that you might have a rip off with someone or hear that someone is leaking information about you this might be a fire sign person who's jealous of you hermit for a while and then make a move , plan in silence and win.

April

Now that you have learned a minor lesson of detachment you have vigor and life again, you will seek new opportunities might get a new hobby as well maybe surfing or racing are you info F1 ? You will also get serious about studies some major exam is on the horizon. Nights in April are significant maybe you will do lot of late night studies or sneak out at night or night rides will make you so happy .

May

For may you are in a mood of enjoyment and happiness but remember to work hard there's tendency of you being too engrossed in enjoying that you forget that your labour is yet to be completed, focus on long term goals and possibilities. You might start visiting the temple more often. The person who was leaking info earlier is gonna miss you a lot in may they might even come back to talk ti you again but you're already done with them , you are in a mode of benevolence but yet you know your value well if they do disturb you too much do a cord cutting .

June

Now is the true time to enjoy your fruits of labour you had done in may , your success rate is high you're spiritually aware and emotionally well regulated, you will truly be happy I see reconciliation of someone you loved when you were young maybe a friend or teenage crush kinda vibe , through instagram or something. You are soaring high , your vibrations are too you're close to the sun and your thoughts will create your destiny so think positively.

July

July is also a positive fine with new opportunities and growth in the money sector of your life, if you have a new business idea or creative idea make sure that you invest in it , you will have more energy and vigor in this month but I see you being kind of lost if it's not well decided where you wanna move next so think before you leap work in the right direction and trust god . Also I see that a feminine figure most probably your aunt will get sick so take care of her if she's important to you.

August

August will focus on healing your old wounds , what have you ignored , if you do your healing well by doing shadow work you will get a breakthrough and live well by circumstance , might get a new house , I hear a moving house as well , you also might be s*xually active a lot during this time , Choose your partners wisely. This person might be an air sign . I see you might try to numb your pain but don't this healing will liberate you so choose this .

September

In September you're not giving a fuck about anyone , you're doing what you like how you like , leaving people and situations and praying a lot , I see some sadness about things left behind this could be stuff that didn't work out in business family or love , if it is the person mentioned in August then you can avoid the pain by being cautious and not attaching yourself by simple discernment I see 1111 , you can choose what you want to happen

October

October is literally like live through the pain moment 💀 I see a hike in finances but your mental health is detoriating you're staying alone , thinking too much and explaining too much , it's necessary that you give yourself a break here okay talk to a friend please please I beg because I see these great times for you which you may fail to recognize because you're too much in your head , it's really important to focus on you in October, mute the noise and focus on you . Eat dates , go to a date and save the date because you're a star.

November

Silent night holy night all is calm all is bright energy , this year Christmas is gonna be lit and you're preparing from November haha I see you getting advent calender ordering gifts for yourself and family . You're gonna be In a supernova mode excessive focus on your goals and you're like you will destroy anyone who will come in your way energy , you're protective and calm it's like you're a mafia boss observing your opponent and waiting for your minions to attack , lol you're gonna have fun in November a lot of funn.

December

December calls for a dark night of the soul heavy reflection on your year and the endings you have had this year , despite being scared you were strong and did what had to be done and you're proud of yourself by the middle of the month . I see you cooking a lot and going to shopping a lot mostly groceries you will be more confident and feel amazing in your body if you had a weight loss goal this year drumroll I see you meeting it . Love Love , you're doing great.

Pile 2 :

January :

Fire in your heart and clear vision is what you're going for in January , I see the circumstances might not be the most favourable but you're hopeful in the midst of a chaos, the happenings have made you instill a sense of balance within oneself and clear sight for what you truly want. You will be presented with a choice in January a choice of new life a new belief a new mindset and it will lead to great outcomes , I sense some modelling offer or working in corporate sector .

February:

The opportunities of January seem to be at full action in February you're more confident than ever , you're at eagle eye view towards the things that you want , your intuition is strong now you're observing the small details and working on them to correct them . Like posture, working on a project you really consider important. The advice is to lay on grass and watch the clouds it will give you comfort. Rest and relax and let universe prepare your auspicious way .

March :

Money is incoming in March, as March is actually the astrological new year I see that you will feel it more than the offers the weight of the time and you will look forward to everything, you're not afraid to work hard and you're really admired for those qualities. I see that you might have recovered from a breakup and now you're set on this path all over again , don't be scared the universe holds your hand , it won't set something in your path that you cannot handle.

April :

You will have ample resources in April to the point that you will become detached with money because you realise that there are much more things to life. You will be more spiritual and find fulfillment in your family and spend quality time with them , a kid maybe Born during this time or you might get pregnant so if you don't want that be safe . As for your love life I sense turbulence cause by old people so don't let the oldies in. Work on healing your sacral chakra in April.

May:

In May your love life seems great tbh , movie dates , colouring together , park dates etc a lot will be happening and it's nice to see . And I see in may you might become too detached with money you may feel drained so you catch up now , multiple investments Will be made by you . One of the sectors good for you will be wine , invest in a wine brewery or gold , both will work well. If you worship Lakshmi this is the month you get serious about her cause she's ready to bless you so so much .

June :

June is full of fun with friends but also a lot of endings due to arguments , make sure you more along with the right people and don't settle because in case you're you're moving with idiots they will exactly show you why they are an idiot , might make remarks on your body and make you feel insecure not recommended. I see your partner being supportive and helping you. Ground this June and wear red lipstick man it suits you so so much it drives your partner crazy .

July :

July is a state of recovery , some of you might have felt disconnected with your high-school friends so you seeked new friends or coworkers but this month you will understand that they love you so much and they're always here for you even if it seems hard at times . You will get flowers a lot , I see a guide being extremely protective about you will be an old spirit guide . If you're a saturnian Saturn will be kind to you and you will have the courage to face anything and everything. Your mindset is good .

August:

August is the month you fall in love with the aesthetic value of the things around you , you might go redecorating your entire room or house , tip you should get a gold vase it will be lucky for you I also see some hummingbird symbolism and bells definitely great for you . Your parents will come around and you will feel connected to them a lot. For some of you around this time you might get engaged . I hear San Paolo so omg excited for you .

September :

The energy is quite similar to August, you're just very very excited in September. Might get new shoes and watch old cartoons even do some repair work in your free time . Will come across a red car and would consider even buying a car. Spiritual advancement is also seen you might have started meditating in early July and September will be the month of effects heightened awareness seeks you now . Don't take any drugs okay I see some peer pressure coming in .

October :

444 on my time zone October will be a protected month or it could mean to up your protection game mann you need a sigil to help I do see a sigil it's circle kind of arrow like , kind of reminds me of the vikings. This pile also gives me Vasalisa vibes ( fairytale) . The fire of your heart burns greater than the fire around you're the tree of life and you're the disaster of it and rebuilding of it . Omg why am I writing this one so whimsically maybe that's how you feel very whimsical very witchy .

November :

You're gonna feel really cute first of all , drenched in kisses and you're gonna party Charli xcx style, your worries are lighter your heart is bigger tbh , attending concerts can be something you do or you might start liking a new artist I hear conan gray , suki Waterhouse tbh . A month of crafts as well , creating new things like bags and cards . You seem to be on a break from work in this month or just your work is comparatively easier so you're in a state of rest .

December :

You're in worship mode in December totally offerings and affirmations are your mantra . Your year was a total up down coaster man (*>∀<*) like it had a balance of everything fun and sadness but what remained consistent is the love , romantically this year will be better for you because you have learnt from your past relationship not to depend too much on your partner and it indeed is helping you keep this one and also your mental health . Take care love love to you.

Thanks for reading 🫶

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chuulyssa · 16 hours ago

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──── ★ DRUGS SUCK IT UP LIKE VANILLA ICYS the recruiter x reader ────

starring the recruiter x detective!reader count 2.3k genre 18+ dark themes, yandere, stalking, kidnapping, gunplay, smut

notes I'LL KEEP EDITING THIS AND ADDING MORE SHIT WHENEVER I GET HORNY !!! make sure to keep tapping in lol notes wanted to write smth non horny but gong yoo just had to deepthroat that gun 🙂‍↔️ wrote this at 2am and i have my practicals tmr

You had no idea when you had lost track of him. One minute, you had been following his step through the bustling train station, and the next, your vision had blurred, and a sharp pain had shot at the base of your skull.

You didn’t know how long it had been since then. You opened your eyes, immediately shutting them back due to the sudden appearance of light to them. The scent of cigarette smoke filled your nostrils, and your tongue tasted blood.

You wriggled, trying to move your arms, but your hands had been tied behind your back, ankles tied to the legs of the chair you had been made to sit on. You opened your eyes once more. The room was dim with a single light bulb flickering on and off again and again.

“Detective,” a voice cooed at you from behind you.

You snapped your neck up to see his face smiling gleefully, staring down at you with a predatory glint in his eyes.

“Imagine my surprise,” he continued, moving away to stand in front of you, “when I realized the pretty lady that had been following me all this while,” he leaned against what you could make out to be a wooden table, “was you.”

His smirk was maddening. You remembered it from all those years ago. The handsome man in a suit, way too overdressed to meet you where he had. The man who had approached you when you were hopelessly drunk in a children’s park, crying about an unsolved case. He had wiped your tears back then, kissed your fears away. You still recall his words.

“Since we’re in a children’s park, how about a children’s game?”

Thank god for the polite refusal of yours, or you would’ve been in the same position as your current client. Seong Gihun. For whom you had been trailing this man for weeks now. The Recruiter.

“Hello? Earth to you, miss?” He snapped his fingers in front of your dazed face, making you jump at the sudden sound. He laughed at you. Then, flicking ash from his cigarette onto the floor, he mocked you. “I had such high hopes for you back then, sweetheart. But you said no,” he pouted, then cackled maniacally at your expression. “I got a kiss though!”

“Shut up,” you hissed.

He chuckled darkly, the sound echoing throughout the small room. Your eyes darted around to check for windows or exits, but you couldn’t find any in the pale lighting. “Aw, you want me to let you go? After you’ve been my little shadow for the past month?”

You looked away, and he only smirked, walking towards you. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked it upwards to catch your attention. “You look at me while we’re speaking. Don’t you have manners, love?”

“Don’t call me that,” you scoffed.

“Oh, you don’t want me to call you that? Is that right, love?” He jeered. When you scowled at him, he dropped his smirk. “Oh, come on now. We both know you’re not going anywhere. Come, let’s have a chat, shall we?”

He sat on the floor, his toes lifting him off the ground by themselves. The soles of his shoes clinked, tilting up so that he was mostly leaning onto you.

“It’s so flattering,” he began, “that you spent so much time trying to follow me all this time later. Am I that captivating, Miss Detective?”

“No.”

“Ah, but you are, certainly,” he nuzzled his face into your lap, making you squirm. You tried to close your thighs, but the restraints didn’t allow you to. “I’ve been dreaming of you ever since I saw you that night.”

He hummed, his knees going down to support his stance. He moved his hands to caress the front of your waist softly. “I cried because you were crying. So don’t cry over anything other than me, hm? It makes me so upset.”

He unbuttoned your pants swiftly, and you flinched. He looked up, amused at your reaction. You glared at him, refusing to speak, but the look in your face, the desire in your eyes, even the wetness he could practically smell betrayed you. He tilted his head.

“Still so stubborn,” he murmured, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. You jerked your head away, but the restraint made it futile.

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re in my world now, detective. And in my world, we play games.”

He pulled out a revolver from under his suit. The metallic click of the very much real weapon cocking made your breath hitch.

Where did he get that from?

He always managed to surprise you.

“Russian roulette,” he announced dramatically, spinning the cylinder. “You know this, yes? A game of chance. Just like life.”

“You’re fucking insane,” you spat, trying to keep your voice steady, but you could feel it quaking in fear. You were scared now.

“Maybe,” he agreed, stepping behind you and pressing the cold barrel of the gun to your temple. “But aren’t you curious, detective? I am. I’m so so curious. You make me feel it. To crave it. Don’t you see it?”

You closed your eyes. The pressure of the gun against your skin seemed unbearable now. It was as if the nuzzle could pierce through your brain with how he was holding it against you.

“I want to see,” he kissed the top of your head, “just how far you’re willing to go to solve this case.”

I’ll do anything, you thought.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “Beg me to stop, but there’ll be consequences then. Or take the risk.”

His voice was a low purr. The gun shifted slightly, trailing down your temple to rest just below your jaw.

“Say the word, and I’ll put it all to an end. No more games. No more questions.” His other hand came up, ghosting over your chest. “But then you’ll have to give me something else in return.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to steady your breathing as he groped your breast through the fabric of your shirt. The room felt too small, the air too thin.

“What’s it going to be, darling?” he teased, the nickname twisting in your gut like a knife. His fingers found your hardened nipple through the fabric, and his lips your neck.

“I...” you started, but your voice cracked. His soft chuckle rumbled against your pulse, sending an unwanted shiver down your spine.

“No shame in fear,” he said, almost kindly. The gun tilted up, tilting your chin with it, forcing you to meet his dark, hungry gaze in the reflection of the mirror in front of you. “Little Miss Detective, found dead in a basement room. Your parents wouldn’t like to hear that now, would they?”

Your eyes widened. He knew. He knew from the start you had been tailing him. He had kept tabs on you, more than you had on him.

“Stop,” you whispered. “Please.”

“Ah, is that the best you can do?” He cooed at you, and your hands clenched into fists.

“Please let me go,” you said, almost angrily, and he threw his head back to laugh.

“That’s not how you say it, dolly.”

You took a deep breath in, feeling your pride crush and fall down around you in bits and pieces. “Please, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” He repeated in a child-like voice. “Like what?”

“Anything you like.”

His smile grew. “Will you be willing to play a game with me, then?” His hand reached under your shirt to caress your nipple, and you could feel yourself gushing at the touch.

“What game?”

“Hm, let’s see,” he murmured softly, fingers circling around your nipple. “I’ll count down from ten.”

You swallowed hard. “And?”

“And for every second that passes, I’ll take one step closer to you,” he explained, his lips curling into a sly smile. “If you say the safe word, I stop. But…” He picked up the gun, rolling the cylinder lazily before he pointed it to the side and—

BANG !

You shook, trying to cower and hide yourself, but even that was difficult. The aftereffects of the shot echoed in the silence, until it faded away. It made everything seem realer, if that was even possible. He grinned at your reaction. “There will be problems.”

“What problems?”

“That’s for me to decide,” he said simply, leaning forward, the gun still in his hand. “Do you want to play, Miss Detective?”

You hesitated. There was no way out of this room, no way out of his control. And he knew it.

“Good.” He stood, assuming your answer before you even responded. But the gun was still in his hand, and you didn’t dare disobey. He stepped back to the far wall and bumped into a table on the way. Angrily, he kicked the table out of his way, muttering curses all the while. Then his expression softened as he turned to you. “The rules are clear. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

He began.

“Ten.” The sound of his boots against the floor echoed around.

“Nine.” Another step. His eyes locked onto yours like a predator stalking its prey.

“Eight.” Your hands gripped the edge of the chair.

“Seven.” The gun in his hand wasn’t aimed at you yet, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from it.

“Six.” He was close enough now that you could see the faint smirk playing on his lips.

“Five.” “Wait,” you blurted out.

He paused mid-step, tilting his head. “Wait? That’s not the safe word.” He took another step, closer still. You clenched your jaw, now starting to panic.

He never even gave you a safe word in the first place!

“Four.” He was looming over you now, the barrel of the gun tracing along the edge of the table.

“Three.” “Stop,” you said loudly.

“Two.” The gun was under your chin now, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

“One.” He smiled, satisfied, as he crouched down to your level, his face mere inches from yours. “You didn’t use the safe word,” he murmured, the gun tracing along your jawline.

“You didn’t give me one!”

“Details,” he rolled his eyes. “But now, as per the rules, of course…” He kneeled down in front of you again, head tilting down. His hands went up to grip both sides of your waist.

“Wait—”

“Shut up.”

For a moment or two, you didn’t feel anything. That was until his tongue licked a striped against your clothed cunt.

“Ack!” You jumped, trying to push him off you, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Like that?” He nuzzled his face into the wetness, making you shiver. “I haven’t even started yet, baby,” he mumbled. Then, he sank his teeth into your clothed thigh.

You let out a loud cry, hoping that someone — anyone — would hear you. But no one did. No one came.

“Quiet now, dolly.” His teeth chewed at your waistband for a few seconds before pulling it down completely. “Up,” he tapped your waist, and you obediently raised your hips. He pried your pants off you.

“Oh,” he let out a disappointed sigh when he saw that your panties were still covering you. “We’ve got to take this off, hm?” He cooed at you again. “Come on, taking it off for me now.”

“What?”

“I said, take it off.”

“How?” You were taken aback.

“Wiggle wiggle,” he smiled like a dork. Then he sat up and kissed your ear. “I’ll help you with the top till then.”

He helped lift your top over your head directly. Once it was off, his lips immediately latched back onto your cheek. “Panties off, please. Before I rip them apart.”

You nodded and fidgeted for a while, lifting your hips up and down and trying to get the fabric off you. But it wouldn’t budge at all.

“Pathetic,” he said, though he looked at you fondly, as if mocking your vulnerability. Tugging a finger under the waistband of your panties, he peeled the soaked cloth away from your skin easily, patting your waist so you’d lift them up to get it off completely.

You were exposed to him. Naked from top to bottom except for the bra he somehow hadn’t removed yet. You felt the sudden chill of air against your bare pussy. Your nipples pebbled further. He tossed the underwear aside.

His hands slid along your thighs, spreading them wider. “Beautiful.” His fingers tightened. A hand snaked between your legs, cupping the flesh of your thighs easily. “So wet. Already? You should be ashamed.”

You flushed lightly, trying to come up with a retort. But he shut you up immediately. His middle finger had found its way inside you.

“Fuck—” you groaned, and he snickered.

He wiggled his finger within you, grinding it against your inner walls, pressing firmly on that sweet spot while watching as your face contorted in pleasure.

Your body bucked as he added another finger, stretching you wide open. Then another. And another.

He pulled back suddenly, and you whined.

“Why—?”

“No,” he whispered, standing up. His large frame towered over yours, his hands reaching behind your neck to unclasp your bra. “Such nice tits, dolly.” He squeezed them in his rough palms as if grateful to God for his creations. His thumb brushed across your hardening nipple, teasing the peak into a tighter bud, if that was even possible.

Then he lowered his head, capturing one between his lips and suckling deeply. His tongue flicked expertly at your hardened nipple, nipping lightly.

You could see stars.

Suck. Nip. Twist. Fiddle. Suck. Nip. Twist. Fiddle. Suck. Ni—

He moved onto the other one and did the same.

Fuck was he good at his job.

He left trails of kisses on your chest. Both of them were red and swollen now, and you were left cursing his name in your mind.

“I’ve been playing nice all this while, don’t you think? Let’s make it rougher.”

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davetheswat6 · 2 days ago

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CW: Blood, vague gore (WILL NOT GO INTO DETAIL.)

The two soldiers continued to trudge through the knee high snow, leaving a dense trail alongside the human-like footprints, the one in the back, a young woman of 25 named Lucy, kept her G36 grilled tightly in her hands despite its chilling metal frame making her fingertips numb through her gloves. The other, a male of 24 names Gilbert, tried his best to keep calm as he kept his eyes peeled towards the horizon.

Their objective was still clear: To find the supposed second son of that eldritch bastard and contain it if possible before they freeze to death up in here in the middle of nowhere, Tennessee.

After a few minutes of blizzard-deafened walking, Lucy stops Gilbert by putting a hand on his shoulder off her rifle. "Frozen Blood." She shouted through the winds as she pointed her rifle towards the snow, now accompanying the barefooted footprints was a thin trail of red along the snow, most of it being quickly covered up by the fresh snow and leaving only drops to be seen. Gilbert nods in acknowledgement as they continue, with him now drawing the M9 pistol out of the holster on his thigh, just in case..

Only a minute more of walking was needed before they could make out a form in the distance.. a rather easy to spot one considering how much of it was just this very distinguishable pitch black. The form seemed to be in this hunched over kind of stance, lingering over something half buried in snow.

The two soldiers nodded at each other as they took up a steady, quiet approach, with Lucy preparing her black box... hoping nobody will have to recover it..

As they drew closer to the form, more details of it could be made out through the blizzard, it's vaguely human body, dense, snowed up fur of the same black tone, a pair of large ram horns. With a few more steps they could see some more.. intriguing details, the figure word these working jeans and a trucker cap despite the sheer cold, it had a simple leather messenger bag over itself and wore no shirt or jacket.

"You." Gilbert announced their presence as he called to the being. The being's head quickly piped up before it turned around to look at the two, a chunk of something in its mouth, a mouth lined with bloodied and jagged teeth.

The two soldiers, despite their experience with weird things like this, were taken aback by the lack of eyes or a nose or really any facial features on this being with only fur and a mouth present, it didn't seem to have ears even as nothing was present on either side of its head.

"Can I help you?" It then spoke after quickly swallowing whatever it had in its mouth, ignoring the weirdness of this situation, while its voice was gruff and coarse, it had this tone of formality to the vaguely masculine voice, taking the soldiers by surprise. "Well, um..." Gilbert's words began to fail him, not having expected actual conversation as usually announcing himself to their targets results in a firefight breaking out.

The being waited with this unique patience as it stood upright, revealing himself to be two or three feet taller than the pair, and wiped his mouth with his forearm. As Gilbert continued to try to find the words to explain their reason for being here, Lucy's eyes instead fell down towards what was behind the supposed second offspring, she could see a mauled carcass, of which she couldn't figure out what it could've been as it was now missing it's whole upper body and legs leaving only the lower half of a bloody carcass. Her best, hopeful guess is that it was some kind of deer..

The being continued to wait patiently, no sense of worry or hurry in his stance or demeanor, he in fact stood in a much more casual manner, having one hand on the messenger bag string over his torso. A puff of air coming out with each of his breaths despite having no visible nose or nostrils...

(will continue at some other time as I'm writing this at like 2 in the morning.)

“Are those fresh footprints?!” “Don’t worry, those don’t seem to be from a beast or animal just another person.” “Yeah, barefoot human footprints, in negative 25 degrees celsius, deep snow, in the middle of a goddamn blizzard!”

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kitsuneplushie · 3 days ago

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locked onto you⭑.ᐟ

what happens when your outfit is just a tad bit revealing?・suggestive content below! everything is mostly implied, sorry i'm too nervous to write actual smut. minors please don’t interact!!

˙ . ꒷ 🤍. 𖦹˙— a/n: sorry if this is a bit ooc, i haven’t written anything in so long that the original concept of this (it was supposed to be like revealing halloween costume) long passed AND this paragraph has been rewritten thrice. i struggled with these so bad if i’m honest bc i wrote half of it while being half asleep and my notes were sOOO BAD. i hope you enjoy nonetheless!! i love you all mwah

any pov but mentions of reader in a dress・not proofread

⌗ rafayel ⭑.ᐟ

“did my bodyguard get flushed down the drain or something? what’s taking you so long?” rafayel whined, shaking the doorknob impatiently. you brushed him off, regretfully staring at the mirror. the model in the ad wasn’t this exposed… right? you sighed, running your hands down your outfit, in hopes that you could make it just cover a bit more of you. “hellooo?” he continued to pout.

“okay okay.. stop your whining! i’m coming out.” you replied defeated. there was nothing more you could do. you had to face him, you were nearly running out of time. you slowly slipped out of the bathroom, meeting rafayel’s gaze. you both stayed silent, staring at each other. his ears and parts of his face shifted into a bright red hue. "weren’t you just in a hurry to go? why are you just standing here?" you teased, crossing your arms.

"well, maybe can just skip-"

"you're seriously not suggesting we cancel last minute, right?" you interrupted. “especially since this exhibition is for you specifically. you can’t just cancel! it’d look bad on both of our parts.” you continued lecturing him. you ushered him along.

on the way to the party, you noticed how handsy he was with you. especially when the driver tried to make conversation with you. rafayel pouted, leaning against you. his fingers brushed against your thighs at the very moment you arrived at the venue. you gave him a glance as you got out. he wasn’t this open with pda usually. there was something… off.

thomas catches you two up on the exhibition. as he does, rafayel is absolutely not listening. his attention is on a strand of your hair. he gently toys with it. you smile and nod in response to thomas, ushering rafayel along. “hey. earth to rafayel? c’mon you need to focus on. potential clients can approach at any moment!” you whispered to him. he deeply sighed before pouting at you. you opened your mouth to lecture him more but before you got a world out… people started approaching.

one person became two. two people became five. and so on. “mhm. oh! actually, i have to meet with my manager for a moment. excuse me. miss bodyguard? will you escort me?” rafayel quickly smiled. you squinted your eyes at him for a moment before accepting. wasn’t like you had a choice. rafayel led the way, taking you to an empty part of the venue. it was separated from rafayel’s exhibit. he sat down on a bench, letting out a soft sigh. you stood in front of him, crossing your arms.

“rafayel, what are we-“

he pulled you closer to him. he leaned his head against your stomach, looking up at you. you felt your face start to flush. “i just want a moment alone with you. you’re too distracting in that dress.” you’re head started to buzzed from the compliment. not to mention how close he was. you felt his hands rest on your lower back as he continued to lean against you.

“we really should get going..” you uttered, placing a hand on his arm. you know you should push him away, but you couldn’t find the strength in you. he whined.

“please?” he asked. “it’s hard to focus. help me…” he pouted. he leaned back on the bench, inviting you to sit on his lap. you ran your hand through your hair as you looked down at him. as much as you should’ve just said no. you gave in, sitting on his lap.

“you’re lucky you’re so alluring, idiot.” you whispered, kissing his neck. “now be a good boy and stay quiet.”

⌗ sylus ⭑.ᐟ

“didn’t take you for being someone who likes to be fashionably late.” sylus said from outside the door. “i think we want to get there when there’s still a party going on kitten.”

you rolled your eyes at his remark. ‘why would they throw a party at such late notice. especially with a dress code.’ you silently cry to yourself. you’ve been dressed for a bit actually. it’s just… this dress is way more revealing than you could of thought. is this just normal for the N109 zone? you let out a deep breath. this was your only choice.

“easy for you to say! you really expect me to show up like this?” you whined, swinging the door open. you look up to see sylus. his gaze was completely on you, his eyes looked you up and down.

“hm.” he replied moving closer, inspecting your outfit. he stayed silent still, walking around you. goosebumps spilled throughout your body as you felt his gaze fixated on you. "on second thought. stay here a moment." he finally stated, walking back out of the room. you let out a deep breath, as you walked back towards his bed. you patiently waiting for him to return. you expected him to be gone only a few minutes. but he sure was taking his time. right after he teased you about it. you roll your eyes and head out to find him.

you walked downstairs, seeing him talking with luke and kieran. they both peered their head over sylus. to glance over at you. they both slightly tilted their heads before focusing on sylus. "i take it that you two understand?" he asked. they both nod and quickly head off. "you as well mephisto." the crow cawed in response, stretching out it's wings. it flew in the direction of the pair, quickly catching up.

"now who's fashionably late? didn't you want to leave while there's still a party?" you teased, walking down towards him. sylus chuckled, turning around to meet you. "i thought you were going to get me a different dress."

"don't worry about it kitten."

"you really think i should go out like this? i... don't know. i think i'd draw too much attention and-"

"you're really stressed about this, huh?" he asked, tracing the strap with his finger. before you could reply, he started walking up the stairs. he looked at you, and tilted his head upstairs. you sighed and followed him. you didn't know what he had planned but was there even an other option. as soon as you reached his room again, his hands returned on you. "you look gorgeous in the dress though. i don't know how i'd feel having anyone else see you like this." he rested his face in the crook of your neck, facing you towards a mirror. his lips soft brushed against your neck.

"sylus... i can't." you mustered, dodging your reflection. "this information is very crucial. i can't afford to miss getting it."

"i know, i know." he softly replied. he brushed a stray hair from your face. his other hand softly grabbing on your hips. "i sent luke and kieran in our place, along side mephisto." he placed another kiss on your upper neck.

"sy..." you uttered, pulling away slightly. you gave him an concerned look. "we should've-"

"do you trust me?" he asked, leaning closer towards you. your breathing hitched, as you bit your lip. you slowly nod. your eyes locked with his. "i can assure you they'll get all the information you need and more." sylus pauses for a moment, tracing his hand down your jaw. "will you allow me to be selfish, just this once? it's hard to resist when you look this stunning." he tilts your head, showcasing your neck to his lips. he effortlessly leads you back to the bed, gently sitting you down. his kisses gently trail down. your eyes flutter, catching a glimpse of his hand greedily wrapping around your thigh. "lay back, i'll make it all up to you kitten."

⌗ zayne⭑.ᐟ

your doorbell chimes as you fidget with your hair, trying to make sure you look your best. "i'll be right there!" you called out. you looked over at the mirror once more, double checking yourself and your outfit. you sigh and quickly grab your things. you couldn't tell if you were underdressed or overdressed. however you didn't want to keep zayne waiting. you open the door, giving zayne a soft smile as he glances over you. "i hope i'm adequately dressed.." you nervously let out, stepping out of your apartment.

"you look beautiful, no need to worry." zayne reassured, ushering you to the elevator. "besides. it's just a little holiday dinner party that akso throws." his words comforted you, until you actually arrived to the party.

"i thought you said this was a small party? why would we need a venue of this size?" you uttered, as the two of you were ushered in. you were assigned to sit along with other employees in the cardiology department.

"we wouldn't be able to have room for all the departments if it was any smaller. and they have a live band during dinner." he uttered. a chill ran down your body as you felt him lean towards you. he placed his hand on your lower back, guiding you through the crowds. he stopped once he found a group of some of his fellow collegues. he introduced you to a few of them who weren't familiar to you. before talking about various topics. you mostly listened, but contibuted here and there.

“ah! doctor zayne! can i steal you for a moment, i need a bit assistance with setting up the other tables for the dining room.” a waiter asked, halting in front of us. zayne gracefully accepted, leaving you with his fellow colleagues. you left them be in their own conversations while you people watched. you sipped on the champagne they were handing out, just being in your own world.

“do my eyes deceive me? is that you miss? it’s an honor to finally meet you!” you turned around, seeing a complete stranger in front of you. you looked behind you to see if you were mistaken but he was talking to you. he smiles as he approaches you closer.

“and you are?”

“i’m sorry, i forgot that this is our first time meeting. excuse my poor manners.” he chuckled. he introduced himself and his position at the hospital. “you’re quite the talk of the town. you’ve saved plenty of our patients. we can’t thank you enough.”

“oh. it’s nothing. just my job.” you smile politely. you felt your nerves rise. you didn’t anticipate this type of interaction. he continued to praise you and get closer. his hand reached for your arm as he invited you for a drink.

“she already has plans for tonight.” a voice sternly spoke from behind you. zayne pulled you closer to him, leaving the man’s hand still in the air. “excuse us.” he glared, walking pass the man. you just looked at him with wide eyes.

“wait… zayne? the party? why are we heading to the car?” you asked, turning your head back. he showed no sigh of stopping, dead set on his objective.

“we made an appearance. that’s satisfactory enough.” he uttered. “it wasn’t mandatory anyway. we were just being polite.” zayne’s attitude usually wasn’t this stormy. it was hard to read him, but it was clear that something was pestering him. you stayed silent until you reached the car.

“hey, did something happen when-“

“no. i just didn’t like the way he was looking at you. i should’ve stayed with you.” zayne interrupted, looking at you. again, your eyes widened. he was never like this. “ah… i apologize. i don’t know what came over me.” you turn your body so you could face him.

“were you jealous?” you softly smirked, leaning towards him. you cupped his face. “it was pretty attractive…” zayne raised his eyebrow. he placed his hand on your seat, causing you to lean back into your seat. he was practically towering over you now.

“was it now? did you enjoy it?” he smiled, sliding his hand down to your thigh. “because i have no intention of sharing you, sweetheart.” you breath deepened as you felt him lean against you. he quickly pulled the leaver of your seat, pushing it all the way down. he pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your lips, purposely missing. you whined, grabbing on his tie. “should i make sure every man knows you’re already mine?” he asked, whispering into your ear. you continuously nodded as his hand slowly made way to your hips.

⌗ xavier⭑.ᐟ

you glanced over at the mirror. you nervously tried adjusting your outfit. was this too much for an casual job party? you really couldn’t tell. you did yet another glance in the mirror before your doorbell rang. you let out a breath before heading to your front door. you opened it to see xavier. “oh! look who’s finally back!” you smiled, opening the door enough to let him in. he slowly walked inside, taking in your appearance.

“are you heading somewhere?” he asked, ignoring your statement. he leaned against the arm of your couch, with his full attention on you. your heart raced as you ran your finger along the edge of your dress.

“unicorns wanted to throw a small office party.” you replied, walking a bit closer. your face started feeling warm. you couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or being flustered by xavier. “it’s a bit much, huh? the outfit? you know maybe i should change into something else.”

before you could step a single step, xavier pulled you into his arms. “you’re thinking too hard. you look lovely.” he replied, nuzzling his head into your shoulder. his arms rested around your waist. you stayed silent for a moment, indulging in the moment.

“xavier, i need to finish getting ready.” you softly say, slowly pushing his arms off. he readjusted his arms, resuming his grip.

“stay with me, for a moment. you have time right? i missed you.”

you let out a hum, as your thumb swept across his arm. you could spare a moment, surely. “fine, just a moment. but can we sit at least? standing here isn’t-“

with that xavier basically swung the two of you onto the couch. he cuddled against you, once again nuzzling into your neck. “was that really necessary?” you giggle, placing your phone onto the coffee table. xavier mumbled in response, placing a kiss on your neck. your body melted with a simple kiss. you slightly move away from xavier, now turning to face him. you cup his face with your hand, brushing your thumb along his cheek. he followed it up with a kiss, pulling you in. you deepened the kiss, feeling his hand grip your thigh. his hand trailed up to your hip.

“mm.. xavier.” you uttered, pulling away. “i got too ahead of myself. i really need to get ready now.” as you were about to get up, your phone rang. you swung your hand over, quickly grabbing it. “hello?”

“did you forget about your best friend tara?” a voice says over the line. “you’re still coming right? you weren’t answering my messages so i thought to call and check up.”

xavier slightly pouted, seeing your attention diverge from him. he pulled you closer, slowly placing kisses down your neck to your collarbone. you mouth at him to stop, your mind buzzing at the feel. he looked at you deviously, moving his hand to your lower back. now pressing himself against you. you let out a gasp, gripping your phone.

“are you okay?”

“oh. tara. i… i’m fine. i just.” you pause, trying to compose yourself. xaiver softly nips at your neck, really testing your ability to be quiet. “i just feel a bit u-under the weather. i’m sorry.”

“oh no! please get some rest! i hope you feel better soon! i’ll send some soup on your way.”

“ah… yes. i’ll see you.” you quickly replied, hanging up. you attempt to place your phone back on the table but completely miss. it didn’t matter, you mind was occupied on something completely different. “you’re such a little devil, you know that?” you gasp, raising your leg over his hip. he doesn’t even respond but goes in for another kiss, while holding onto the bottom of your thigh.

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djarindroid · 3 days ago

Text

Barely Surviving

Pairing: Thanos (Choi Su-Bong) x Reader

Summary: An unexpected connection in the games challenges your will to keep going.

Warnings: Usual Squid Game stuff, drugs, depression, suicidal thoughts. Thanos is definitely ooc in some places

Word Count: 2,331

Comments: I hope you like this! 💕 I haven't written in a while but watching Squid Game I knew I had to do something for Thanos. I already have a rough idea for a part 2...

The past few days had been the worst of your life. You were told that you’d just be playing a few games with a chance to win some money to pay off your debt. No one mentioned that your life, and so many others’, would be on the line. How someone could subject others to this was beyond you.

After the second game you’d retreated back to the dormitories with the group you’d managed to survive with. Despite banding together you still felt hopelessly alone, wanting nothing more than to go home and forget any of this had happened.

But how could you forget? How could you forget all the people you’d seen die? How could you forget the feeling of warm blood splattering across your face? How could you ever forget this feeling of guilt? Guilt that you were still standing whilst so many others had fallen.

You sat at the back of your bunk, knees drawn up, whilst your hands trembled in front of you.

Your eyes scanned the room, taking in the other players, some sat in groups, some picking at the remnants of the food handed out moments ago, and then your eyes landed on him.

Player 230, Choi Su-Bong or Thanos as he had introduced himself. His bright purple hair wasn’t the only thing making him stand out. He was leaning casually, his expression detached and seemingly completely unfazed. As if he wasn’t affected by the terror surrounding him.

You hesitated for a moment, your fingers clenched and unclenched as you tried to gather some courage. Maybe you should just stay on your bunk, try and let this wave of hopelessness pass on its own. But no matter how much you told yourself, the deep ache in your chest refused to subside.

Finally, you managed to push yourself to your feet, making your way across the room. Your footsteps felt too loud, echoing around you as you walked. A few players briefly glanced at you before turning away, uninterested in what you were doing. You heard the small voice in the back of your head, telling you to turn around, but you kept going, driven by a desperation to feel nothing.

As you approached you watched as player 124, who was sitting on the floor near Thanos, nudged his leg, nodding his head towards you. Thanos instantly perked up, a cocky smirk taking over his face.

‘Hey girl,’ he cooed as you got close. ‘Did you wanna come join the Thanos world?’ He crossed his arms over his chest as he deliberately looked you up and down

Your stomach twisted, hearing player 124 snicker at what had been said. You pushed forward regardless. ‘I was just hoping… I know you have… Could I…’ You tried and failed multiple times to get the words out, your cheeks burned hotter at each failed attempt. You felt so foolish, so small, and Thanos’ response didn’t help with your nerves.

‘Aw look, the pretty girl is nervous to talk to me,’ he said with a mocking pout. ‘Don’t be señorita,’ he stepped forward, bending down to your eye level whilst invading your personal space. ‘I don’t bite,’ he added with another smirk.

Your hands trembled more, you shoved them into your pockets to try and still them. Of course this had been a bad idea, but you desperately wanted to stop this feeling, the seemingly bottomless pit inside you threatening to swallow you whole. You knew Thanos had what you needed.

‘I know you have something in your necklace,’ you murmured, voice barely audible. You kept your gaze fixed on the floor, avoiding his eyes. ‘I…I just want to stop feeling like this.’

He sighed and straightened himself, ‘you know I have something huh?’ He shook his head before carrying on, ‘I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.’ He shooed you away dismissively with his hand as he said ‘go on, go back to your side.’

Panic rose in you, quick and suffocating. No. You couldn’t take no for an answer. You couldn’t take it anymore. Every waking moment was a nightmare, and even in sleep, the images of people being shot haunted you. Your breath quickened, you’d managed to get the courage to come over here, you couldn’t let yourself go back still feeling like this.

Your knees were ready to buckle but you managed to stand straighter. ‘Please,’ you whispered as you finally looked into his eyes. You tried to convey everything in that one word, every ounce of fear and despair you were feeling as you repeated it again. ‘Please.’

His gaze pinned you in place, and for just a second you thought you saw his expression falter, maybe a flicker of pity. For that brief moment you thought he might actually listen, that he might offer you what you were asking for.

But as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. He looked you up and down once more, his tone flat as he said, ‘you don’t want what I have.’ You opened your mouth to argue but he held his finger up to your lips. ‘Save your breath, the answers no. Go back over there.’

The finality in his tone hit you like a slap. Your chest tightened as you watched him turn his back to you. A lump in your throat appeared and you fought back the tears threatening to spill. You quickly lowered your head, hiding your face from the room as you scurried back to your bed.

Thanos, settled into the spot beside Nam-Gyu, he let his gaze linger briefly on your retreating figure. You looked so hopeless, curling into yourself on your bed. His smirk faded slightly and the edges of his eyes softened.

Was it guilt he felt? He wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the uncomfortable weight of knowing you’d looked to him for help in such a way. For a moment he’d almost given in, but he knew what he had wasn’t the answer for someone like you. Still, he couldn’t shake the memory of the way you’d whispered to him, it clung to him heavily as he forced himself to pay attention to whatever the people around him were saying.

By some miracle you had survived through most of the third game, aided by the chaos of other people scrambling to reach the correct numbers before sprinting towards the doors surrounding the room. You hadn’t earned your survival this time, it had been handed to you by those more ruthless.

You dragged yourself back to the centre platform, the others that had used you to make up the required amount already abandoning you.The smell of blood hung thick in the air, making your stomach turn. How many more rounds would this drag on for? How many more bodies would be carted off in boxes before this finished?

You glanced down at your shoes, once bright white, now smeared in others' blood. The platform beneath you began to turn again, but the spinning in your head was worse. You knew you should have been paying attention to what number was going to be called, but what was the point? You’d only been a spare this entire game, why bother to start looking for people now?

‘TWO,’ the number was called and people immediately began shouting and dragging each other off. Time slowed down for you as you stood frozen to the spot. You had no one. There wasn’t a single person around you that didn’t already have a partner. Today would be the day, you thought. Tears welled in your eyes, though you weren’t sure if you were sad or relieved that this hell would be over for you.

Then, out of nowhere, a strong arm wrapped around your waist and yanked you forward. You stumbled, heart pounding in your ears, as you attempted to keep up with whoever had grabbed you. You could barely register what was happening, but then you saw the flash of his purple hair.

Thanos?!

There was no time to question why he’d chosen you, he had you, and the two of you were nearing one of the rooms. As you approached, another player lunged for you, trying to shove you out of the way and take your place. Thanos didn’t hesitate, he kicked the stranger hard, sending them flying to the ground. His grip on you tightened as he practically shoved you through the door with only seconds to spare.

The door locked behind you, you’d made it. Relief washed over you, but it was fleeting, overshadowed but the sound of gunshots and screams outside. Your legs faltered and you collapsed against the far wall. Thanos remained by the door, his body blocking the view as he watched the aftermath through the small window.

You should thank him, you knew you should. He’d saved you, pulling you from the edge of defeat. But the words wouldn’t come, all you could do was sink to the floor, and wrap your arms around your knees. You’d both made it to the end of the third game. You were alive. So why did you still feel nothing?

Thanos slid down the wall beside you, he rested his arms on his knees and kept his gaze ahead. ‘How come you froze up out there? Don't you have anyone here?’

You thought for a moment, debating telling him at this point you’ve accepted your fate so why prolong it. You tapped your fingers on your knees anxiously as you searched for an answer that didn’t let him know how badly you’d given up. ‘I didn’t want to be a burden,’ you muttered. ‘I just..I thought I would wait.’

He let out a short laugh, ‘good thing I waited too then, huh? Without me you’d be out there in one of those boxes.’ He nudged your shoulder lightly, as if he was joking with you but there was no humour in this situation.

You didn’t respond, your eyes caught sight of him idly playing with the cross that hung around his neck, the chain snaking around his fingers. When he tilted his head towards you, his eyes met yours and you saw the dilation in his pupils, evidence of whatever high he’d been on to get through this.

For a moment, he seemed to study you, though his expression was unreadable. The intensity of his gaze made you feel as though he was trying to read your mind. ‘I wasn’t gonna leave you out there,’ he said finally, his voice calmer. ‘Couldn’t watch you just give up like that.’

You blinked at him and before you could stop yourself you were asking, ‘why do you care?’

He shrugged, briefly glancing away before meeting your eyes again. ‘Honestly? I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘Maybe I feel like you need protecting, and maybe I thought I could be the one to do that.’

You chuckled at that, though there was no humour in your laughter. ‘Do I really look that pathetic?’

He seemed taken aback. 'Someone had to step in,’ he replied bluntly. ‘You were just gonna let yourself lose.’

‘Maybe I wanted to lose.’ You snapped. ‘You don’t owe me anything so don’t bother protecting me. I’m not worth it.’

He took a moment to really look at you, leaning in slightly with an uncharacteristically serious tone he asked, ‘is that really what you think?’

Your breath hitched. The tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over and you buried your face into your hands. ‘I just… I can’t take this anymore.’ you choked out. ‘This place, it’s not worth the money. I don’t care anymore, I just don’t want to be here.’

The weight of your despair hung heavily around you, your shoulders shook as you continued to sob. The emotions you’d managed to keep at bay flooding out all at once. Thanos remained silent for a moment, before lightly resting his hand on your shoulder.

‘Listen,’ his tone was softer than you thought possible. ‘This place screws with you, you already know what I’ve been doing to get through.’ He tapped his necklace briefly. ‘But there’s life after this place, so you’ve gotta keep trying, until your last breath.’

You moved your face away from your hands to once again look up at him. He exhaled slowly as he looked at your tear stained face. He carefully took your face in his hands and wiped away the tears.

The tenderness in his touch was almost overwhelming, a sharp contrast to how you expected him to be. For a brief moment you allowed yourself to indulge in his touch. Through all of his flaws Thanos was showing you a different side, something real. The way he had moved revealed the blue O badge attached to his jacket. You briefly glanced at it.

‘Urgh fine,’ he said with a dramatic sigh, catching your look at the badge. ‘If I vote to leave this time will you stop crying.’ His head flopped to the side as he threw on a fake pout.

You couldn’t stop the weak laugh that escaped you at his theatrics. His small attempt to lighten your mood worked, if only a little. You nodded ‘yeah, I’ll stop crying.’

‘Good, pretty girls shouldn’t cry like that.’ He smirked.

The sound of the door unlocking suddenly caught both of your attention, bringing you back to the present. He stood, holding his hand out to you which you gladly accepted. His grip was steady, grounding, and for the first time since entering this hell you didn’t feel completely alone.

‘Come on,’ he said, pulling you to your feet. ‘Let’s get you outta here señorita.’

As you both walked towards the door the weight of everything you’d been through still lingered but something had shifted. You started to let yourself believe that you could keep going, maybe you weren’t completely broken after all. And the strangest part? It was Thanos who had given that to you.

#angst to somewhat fluff #thanos x reader #choi su bong x reader #squid game x reader #squid game fanfic #thanos #choi su bong #player 230 #squid game

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wqnsho · 3 days ago

Text

revolver | the salesman x fem! reader

*.✧ synopsis: what's supposed to be an early day off with your coworker, gong ji-cheol, turns into a dangerous game of cat and mouse, and russian roulette. as danger escalates, so does the magnetic pull between you, blurring the line between survival and sexual desire. *.✧ word count: 7.1k *.✧ warnings: squidgame season 2 spoilers, violence, death, reader smokes descriptive fight scenes, guns, sucking on guns, gi-hun dies instead of the salesman, the salesman is a warning on its own, reader is also craycray like the salesman, use of gong yoo's real name (do let me know if i should not), co-workers eye fucking, sexual innuendoes, tbf its hinted they fuck after the end. 18+ SCENES (no actual smut, just your typical moaning and sucking of the gun). *.✧ note: not my proudest work but i hope u like it! chances of part 2 is close to none btw, I, for the love of god, was stuck for an hour on that goddamn gun sucking scene, but who knows. masterlist | request here

You let out a heavy sigh as you sank onto one of the worn benches in Tapgol Park. The air was crisp, and the faint hum of city life surrounded you. You were currently waiting for Gong Ji-cheol, your one and only co-worker. He had asked you to meet him here, promising to wrap up his final task for the day before heading to his humble home together.

Your cheek throbbed as you pressed a small bag of ice against it, wincing at the sting. The last girl you played against had been a real piece of work. Not only did you lose much faster than usual, but her slap had left an unforgettable impression—literally. It was as if she had mistaken you for her runaway fiancé who had left her high and dry.

“Damn, she packed a punch,” you muttered under your breath, the memory making you scowl.

With another sigh, you brought a cigarette to your lips, holding it between your fingers as you lit it with practiced ease. The familiar burn in your lungs was oddly comforting. Crossing your legs, you leaned back against the bench’s headrest, letting the smoke escape in a slow exhale that curled into the night sky.

‘Where the hell is he?’ you thought irritably, your foot tapping an impatient rhythm against the pavement. Your eyes scanned the park, catching glimpses of couples strolling by and the occasional jogger.

Just as you were about to pull out your phone to check the time, you spotted a familiar figure entering the park. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Gong Ji-cheol strode in with an air of nonchalance, his hands laden with paper bags that seemed ready to burst at the seams.

You didn’t call out to him, opting instead to watch as he navigated the park with his usual flair. His expression was focused as he finished whatever errand had delayed him. You leaned back further, cigarette perched lazily between your fingers, content to let him finish his business before approaching him.

The two of you had met as guards in a sick, twisted game designed to bleed people dry for the amusement of the elite. Starting out as a lowly Worker, you two slowly climbed the ranks—first a Soldier, then finally a Manager. It wasn’t common for guards to bond, no. Trust was scarce in a world built on deception and survival, yet somehow, Ji-cheol had cracked through your armor. Maybe it was his sharp wit, or the way he could read you like an open book, but whatever it was, you found yourself gravitating toward him.

Just as you were about to take another drag of your cigarette, you noticed something unusual: two men standing awkwardly at the park’s edge, their attention locked onto Ji-cheol like predators stalking prey. They weren’t subtle, either, holding up newspapers as flimsy disguises that barely hid their faces.

You cocked a brow, biting back a chuckle at their obvious act. Amateurs. Still, their presence made your senses sharpen.

Your attention shifted back to Ji-cheol just in time to see him come to a halt in the park’s center. He looked at the bags in his hands, before dropping its contents to the ground with deliberate carelessness. One by one, he stomped on the bread he’d been carrying, flattening each loaf under polished shoes.

You’d seen him do it before—hell, you’d done it yourself—but something about the way he carried out the task tonight was different. There was a certain sharpness in his movements, an edge that hinted at more than just routine. Was he putting on a show for the two men who were watching him, or was this his way of venting the frustrations of the day?

Either way, you couldn’t deny that he looked downright intoxicating as he stood there—his jaw clenched tight, shoulders tense with barely contained aggression, and his eyes gleaming with something dark and dangerous. The raw power in his posture was magnetic, and you felt a jolt of lust rush through you at the sight.

You smirked, taking in the scene. Slowly, you stood, your movements deliberate as you reached for your suitcase. You tossed the cigarette to the ground, watching it fall with the finality of a decision made, before crushing it under your heel with a swift, confident stomp.

With a casual flick of your wrist, you brushed yourself off, smoothing your clothes. Then, you gave a small wave, your fingers barely lifting, but the motion was enough to catch Ji-cheol’s attention. His gaze snapped to yours instantly, the fire of the moment in his eyes briefly shifting to something more focused, more intent. He stomped on the pile of wasted bread one last time, before fixing himself and walking in your direction.

“Good day, [Name]. How are you? Have you finished your rounds?” he asked with a smile, his tone formal, almost mechanical.

You rolled your eyes and stepped closer, brushing back a stray lock of his hair and fixing it with a familiarity that always seemed to catch him off guard. “Drop the formalities, Ji-cheol. It’s me,” you said, your voice soft but firm.

His posture eased, the stiffness leaving his shoulders as he allowed himself to relax in your presence. “To answer your question, yeah, I’ve finished my rounds. It was a fast day for me.”

“Is that so?” he replied, his tone warmer now. But as his eyes landed on the swelling on your cheek, his smile faltered. Concern flickered across his face. “That mark wasn’t on your pretty little face before. Trouble today?”

You let out a soft laugh, dropping your hand from his hair. “This? It’s nothing. Just a parting gift from my last client—a pregnant girl scammed by her ex’s fake cryptocurrency. She was better than I expected, though. Won more rounds than me.”

He tilted his head, his lips curling into a teasing smile. “Did she really win more, or did you let her? I know you, [Name]. You find pleasure in pain—don’t even try denying it.”

You stepped closer, lowering your voice to an alluring murmur, your lips barely brushing the shell of his ear. “Oh, Ji-cheol, pain is only a pleasure when it’s coming from you. You should know that by now.”

His eyes darkened at your words, and a slow, rich chuckle escaped his lips. “Careful, [Name],” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, his hand brushing against your lower back. “You keep teasing me like that, and I might just test your theory.”

You raised an eyebrow, your smile turning into a sly smirk. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you whispered, tilting your head slightly, challenging him.

His lips quirked upward, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. “You’d be surprised at what I can deliver,” he said, his voice dropping a notch.

Before the tension could spiral further, you stepped back abruptly, breaking the moment with a grin. Turning on your heel, you called over your shoulder with playful finality, “Come on. I’m done for the day, and I need a drink—or at least a cigarette that doesn’t taste like stress.”

Ji-cheol let out a chuckle before falling into step beside you, his presence a constant heat at your side. As you walked, a flicker of curiosity tugged at you, and you subtly turned your head to check for any sign of the two men from earlier. But before you could get a proper look, Ji-cheol’s hand reached out, firm but controlled, gently turning your face forward again.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice low and calm, though there was an edge of authority beneath it. “I know what you saw—I saw them too. Just keep walking like a good girl. Let them think we’re clueless about their little act.”

His fingers lingered for a moment before he let go, stepping ahead of you to hail a cab. The gesture was quick, efficient, and almost as if he’d done this a hundred times before.

When the taxi rolled to a stop, Ji-cheol turned back to you with a grin that was equal parts mischief and charm. “After you,” he said, his tone teasing as he bowed dramatically. He even went so far as to open the door for you, gesturing with exaggerated politeness like a chauffeur entertaining a particularly important client.

You played along, rolling your eyes but stepping into character anyway. “Why thank you, good sir,” you said with a mock curtsey, gathering the hem of your imaginary skirt as you slipped into the cab.

Ji-cheol followed closely behind, settling in beside you as the driver glanced over his shoulder. “Where to?” he asked, his tone flat, his gaze flicking between the two of you in the rearview mirror.

Saying a quick thank-you to the cab driver, you followed Ji-cheol into a narrow alleyway. The quiet buzz of the city surrounded you, but your attention was on your co-worker’s back as he strode ahead.

“Hey,” you said, breaking the silence, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Wanna play a quick game? Whoever guesses why those clowns are following us treats the other to dinner.”

Ji-cheol cast a glance over his shoulder, one brow arched in confusion.

“What? It’s a good pastime, no?” you added, shrugging. “Humor me a bit!”

He shook his head, muttering something under his breath as he turned a corner. You followed close behind, your grin fading as the sound of hurried footsteps behind you grew louder.

“Hey, you two! Stop!”

“Stop right there!”

Ji-cheol didn’t respond, instead quickening his pace. But you could hear it in his voice when he muttered, “Idiots.”

The chase ended when Ji-cheol led you into a dead-end alley. He stopped abruptly, spinning around with a calmness that felt almost unsettling, while you turned to face your pursuers. They were close now—two men, one in a dark blue shirt and the other in red, both with the kind of looks that screamed trouble.

“Well, well,” you said, tossing your briefcase from one hand to the other. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves some company. Lucky us.”

Ji-cheol didn’t say a word. He simply adjusted his grip on his own briefcase, his eyes narrowing in calculation.

The men didn’t waste time, rushing toward you with the reckless aggression of people who thought they had the upper hand. Big mistake.

You locked your focus on the man in the dark blue shirt, narrowing your eyes as you sidestepped his first swing with practiced precision. The moment his fist whizzed past you, you didn’t waste a second. Your briefcase swung through the air, connecting with his ribs with a satisfying thud. He grunted in pain, stumbling back, and you let out a small, mocking laugh.

"Hey, handsome," you teased, your voice dripping with playful mockery. "You should really think twice before picking a fight with us. I’m a sucker for a challenge. But..." You grinned wickedly, dodging another wild punch as you leaned back. "...I’ve got a thing for aggressive men, you know? My type."

The man’s face twisted in frustration and fury. His lips curled, and he spat, “Shut up, you bitch!”

You grinned even wider. "Ooh, getting personal, huh?" you teased, barely dodging another wide swing. “You should take me to bed and that’s where I’ll show you how much of a bitch I can be…”

Your dirty quip was abruptly interrupted when the man unexpectedly grabbed your arm, twisting it painfully. You winced as a sharp jolt of pain shot through your body, forcing you to drop your grip on the briefcase. The metallic clatter of it hitting the ground echoed in your ears.

"Hey! That’s expensive, dumbass!" you snapped, frustration flaring. You wrenched your arm free, trying to shake him off, but his grip was firm.

Before you could fully react, the man kicked your briefcase, sending it sliding towards Ji-cheol, who was tangled in his own fight with the man in red. The sound of metal scraping across the concrete grated on your nerves, a surge of irritation washing over you. That briefcase was yours—nothing was going to ruin it, not even this asshole.

You didn't hesitate. In a flash, your foot shot out, landing a perfect kick right into his shin. He yelped in pain, releasing your arm as he staggered backward. You wasted no time. With a burst of energy, you shoved him hard into the wall behind him. His back collided with a pile of scrap materials with a satisfying thud, the sound reverberating through your body.

You stood tall, brushing off your clothes with an air of nonchalance. As you bent down to retrieve your briefcase, your attention shifted for a moment. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a flash of metal—a glint of something sharp catching the light. Your heart lurched in your chest as you realized what it was.

The man in the red shirt had drawn a knife. Worse, he was heading straight for Ji-cheol, the blade aimed directly at his back.

“Ji—” you started, your voice cutting through the tension, but your warning was abruptly cut off as something hard slammed into the side of your head.

The world tilted violently. A burst of blinding pain exploded through your skull, and you staggered, your vision blurring. You brought a hand to your temple, trying to steady yourself, but your legs felt weak. Through your dazed vision, you saw him—a cruel grin on his face, the bloodied stone still gripped in his hand.

Before you could do anything, he struck again, the stone connecting with your skull with a sickening crunch. Pain blossomed across your face, and your legs buckled beneath you, sending you crumpling to the ground. Darkness rapidly encroached upon your vision, and the last thing you registered was the faint, mocking sound of his laughter as everything went black.

Ji-cheol’s eyes snapped to you the moment your body hit the pavement, the sickening thud reverberating in the air. His heart hammered in his chest as his gaze locked onto the sight of you: crumpled on the ground, limp, with blood trickling from a wound on your head. His breath caught in his throat. The man in blue, still standing over you, clutching the stone with a sick grin on his face, and the man in red, knife gleaming, were the last things he needed to process before his instincts took over.

Without thinking, his body moved with a kind of ferocity that stunned even him. His muscles tensed, adrenaline coursing through his veins, making him feel like a machine, unstoppable and unrelenting.

In an instant, he spun around, his hand flying out to disarm the red-shirted man. The knife wrenched from the man’s hand with brutal efficiency, and he followed up with a lightning-fast blow to his temple. The man collapsed instantly, crumpling like a ragdoll, out cold before he even hit the ground.

After dealing with him, Ji-cheol's gaze shifted to the man in dark blue standing with the bloody stone in his hand, looking as if he were ready to take another swing at you.

And that was the last thing he would allow.

He closed the distance in two strides, his fist launching toward the man’s jaw, a punch so hard that the stone slipped from his hand, clattering to the ground uselessly. Without hesitation, His fists continued their brutal onslaught. He delivered blow after calculated blow, his knuckles connecting with the man’s ribs, and face, each hit precise and unforgiving. The man in dark blue crumpled, gasping for breath, barely able to comprehend what had happened to him before another punch landed, and he slumped unconscious to the ground.

Once he was sure that the two were passed out, Ji-cheol immediately dropped to his knees beside you, the panic rising in his chest. Seeing you like this, the blood marring your face—it felt like a punch to his gut. His stomach churned, nausea rising with each passing second as guilt seethed through him like poison.

He reached out with trembling hands, carefully wiping the blood from your face, his fingers lingering on your features, brushing along your jaw and hairline. The blood made it worse—it made everything worse.

His thoughts crashed into him like waves. He should’ve seen it coming. He should’ve known this was a bad idea, that taking you into this mess had been a mistake. He should’ve canceled the hangout, he should’ve protected you better. But here you were—hurt, unconscious, vulnerable—and it was his fault. Every pained breath you took, every soft exhale he could hear, was a reminder of how badly he had failed you.

“Damn it, [Name],” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough with guilt and frustration. His hands moved to gently tilt your head, checking for signs of serious injury. You were breathing, thank God. But the blood on your face made him feel like he was drowning.

His fingers hovered near your lips, then slid down your neck, checking for a pulse. Steady. A little too fast, but steady. He exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

As he sat there beside you, his body still trembling with adrenaline, something cold and hard settled in the pit of his stomach. The scene around him—the violence, the bloodshed—it was all becoming a blur. There was only one thing that mattered now, and that was you.

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, just kneeling beside you, watching for any signs of life, his mind racing. All he could think about was how much he had to make this right. He couldn’t lose you—not like this. Not because of his own damn mistakes.

“It’s been a long time, Mr. Seong Gi-hun.”

Ji-cheol’s voice carried a calmness that felt unnervingly detached, but his words were deliberate, each syllable measured. He stood with an air of nonchalance, a drink dangling loosely in his hand, as if the weight of the situation didn’t faze him in the slightest.

Gi-hun’s sharp gaze fixed on him, his face a mixture of anger and suspicion. Ji-cheol stepped aside slightly, revealing the passed-out figure slumped in one of the chairs behind him. Gi-hun’s eyes immediately darted to them, worry flashing across his features as he took in the bandaged state of their face.

The sight unsettled him. Like a caring father, he instinctively wanted to rush forward, to check if they were alright, to ensure they were still breathing. But he stopped himself, forcing his feet to remain planted as he redirected his focus to the man standing in front of him.

“I hope you don’t mind another visitor,” Ji-cheol added with a faint smirk, watching Gi-hun’s reaction with mild amusement. “Anyways, you should’ve gotten on that plane.”

Gi-hun’s hands curled into fists as he turned back toward the towel he’d been using to dry his hair, his movements slow and deliberate. “I changed my mind when I saw you,” he said, voice low and simmering with anger.

With an approving nod, Ji-cheol tossed his now-empty can into the trash with a casual flick of his wrist. It clanged loudly, the sound echoing in the tense silence. He gestured toward a map pinned to the wall, annotated with markings and notes, pointing at it with his revolver as if he were holding a pointer in a lecture.

“It looks like you’ve been trying hard to find me,” He remarked, his tone laced with mock praise, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the map.

“I wanted to thank you.”

The words made Ji-cheol stop mid-motion, his head snapping toward Gi-hun. He blinked, genuinely taken aback, before narrowing his eyes. “Thank me?” he repeated, the disbelief dripping from his voice.

Gi-hun stepped forward, slowly, deliberately. His movements were calm, but there was an undercurrent of malice in every step. Ji-cheol noticed it immediately—the tension in the way Gi-hun carried himself, the suppressed fury barely held in check.

“For inviting me to the game,” Gi-hun said, his voice tight and edged with bitterness. He settled into one of the empty chairs, sitting across from Ji-cheol. The anger burning in his eyes completely contradicted the words spilling from his mouth. “I won. I made it out with a fortune. The decent thing to do would be to thank you for it.” He dragged out the words, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Ji-cheol chuckled softly, a hollow, humorless sound. He leaned back against the table, swirling the liquid in his glass before looking at Gi-hun with feigned delight. “I, no— we—are just messengers who deliver invitations,” he replied smoothly, as if dismissing the very weight of the accusation.

Gi-hun’s jaw clenched as he turned his gaze back to the unconscious figure. The sight of them, bandaged and vulnerable, only seemed to stoke the fire in his chest. He whipped his head back to Ji-cheol, his voice firm and unwavering. “Who had you deliver those invitations? Let me meet him. I have something to say.”

Ji-cheol’s face didn’t change, his expression neutral. “Give me the message,” he said casually, his tone as smooth as silk, “and I’ll pass it along.”

Gi-hun didn’t flinch. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing as his voice grew sharper. “It’s not something I can discuss with an underling like you.”

For the first time, Ji-cheol’s expression shifted—just slightly. An eyebrow arched, and a flicker of amusement danced across his face as he tilted his head.

Gi-hun pressed on, his voice growing colder. “You prey on people who are hanging by a thread, conning them at subway stations with your pathetic games. Someone like you wouldn’t understand what I’m trying to say.”

The words struck a nerve. Ji-cheol’s smile turned razor-sharp, a glint of something darker flashing in his eyes. He straightened up, stepping closer to Gi-hun with calculated precision. “Mr. Seong,” he began, his voice low, the edges laced with venom. “How do you think I got to where I am now?”

“I don’t care how you became their dog,” Gi-hun spat back, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. His fists clenched at his sides, every muscle in his body taut with anger. “Bring me your master. Now.”

For a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath. Ji-cheol’s grip tightened slightly, his knuckles whitening as he stared down at the man in front of him. The tension crackled between them like a live wire, each word loaded with unspoken challenges.

But he didn’t break. Instead, he calmed himself down, his lips curled into a faint, mocking smile. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way, Mr. Seong,” he said coolly, his tone almost taunting. “You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

Gi-hun’s glare didn’t waver. The air between them was thick with unspoken threats, the weight of their animosity pressing down like a storm waiting to break.

You didn’t know what had happened. One moment, you were grappling with the two men who had been tailing you and Ji-cheol, your pulse pounding in your ears as you threw every ounce of strength into your movements. The world had been chaotic, filled with sharp grunts, the scrape of shoes on concrete, and Ji-cheol’s distant voice cutting through the noise. Then, just as suddenly as the fight had started, everything had gone dark.

Now, consciousness crept back slowly, each sensation arriving in fragments. Your head throbbed, a deep ache that pulsed in time with your uneven breathing. Your body felt heavy, as though weighed down by something unseen, and your surroundings were a muddle of indistinct sounds and shadows. Somewhere nearby, a voice pierced through the haze—clear, calm, and chillingly familiar.

“Let’s play a game,” You hear Ji-cheol say, his voice unnervingly casual. The words broke through the thick, suffocating silence, pulling you from the disorientation. Your senses sharpened, snapping into focus as you locked onto the sound of his voice. Slowly, other details began to bleed into your awareness, each one clearer than the last. A faint melody lingered in the air, haunting, delicate, a melody that sent a shiver down your spine. The tune grew clearer with every passing second, and then it hit you—Time to Say Goodbye by Andrea Bocelli and Sarah Brightman. One of your favorites.

“I’m sure you’ve seen this in the movies,” He continued, his voice floating through the tension of the room. There was no urgency in his words, no thrill of danger—only a casual amusement. It was as if he were describing a mere game, a joke, instead of a life-or-death scenario. “It’s called Russian Roulette.”

The unmistakable click of the revolver’s cylinder spinning sliced through the thick air, sharp and metallic. It was the kind of sound that clawed at your insides. The revolver clicked again, a sound that seemed louder, more pronounced in the silence of the room. Ji-cheol’s voice returned, light and nonchalant. “Usually, you load one bullet, spin the cylinder, and…”

You dared to open your eyes just a crack, curious on what was happening. What you didn’t expect was your gaze being met with the barrel of the revolver, inches away from your face. A rush of anger surged through you, sharp and electric. The nerve of this bastard.

Across the room, Gi-hun stirred. You could hear him, his breath ragged and loud. He moved forward, instinctively, as though to intervene, to stop Ji-cheol, but his feet faltered. He paused, his whole body tight with tension. His eyes locked onto the weapon, his posture rigid.

“Hey—” Gi-hun’s voice cracked, faltering under the pressure. “Don’t do this—”

Ji-cheol silenced him with a smoothness that only made the threat more chilling. His voice slipped through the air like silk, but it carried an edge that cut deep. “...And pull the trigger.”

The sound of the revolver’s cylinder clicking into place reverberated around the room. Ji-cheol’s finger tightened on the trigger, and for a split second, the world seemed to freeze.

Your eyes remained steady, focused, determined. Your pulse quickened, but you forced it into submission, grounding yourself in the stillness of the moment.

Click.

The sound was deafening in its emptiness, an echo that reverberated in your skull, louder than any bullet could ever be. The revolver hadn’t discharged. Ji-cheol lowered the revolver with a smirk, his gaze flicking between you and Gi-hun. His movements were unhurried, his demeanor calm, as though this had been nothing more than an amusing game.

“And before the next round,” Ji-cheol said smoothly, the revolver spinning in his hand with a sharp flick of his wrist, “you spin it to reset the odds back to one in six.”

The metallic click of the cylinder spinning reverberated through the air, the sound sharp against the eerie backdrop of soft music. It was a calculated move, each spin designed to remind everyone in the room of what was at stake. Ji-cheol’s grin stretched wider as he leaned back, as if savoring the power he held.

Gi-hun’s face was carefully neutral, but his body betrayed him. His jaw was clenched so tightly that you thought his teeth might crack, and his fingers drummed a nervous rhythm against the edge of the table. He exuded frustration and unease, barely restrained beneath his calm facade.

“But,” Ji-cheol continued, leaning forward slightly, his eyes glinting with malice, “I like to make the game a little more interesting.” His tone was playful, almost conversational, but the words carried a sinister edge. “Because you’re special, Mr. Seong.”

“Cut to the chase,” Gi-hun snapped, his voice hard and brimming with irritation. He was done playing along, his patience stretched to its limit.

The salesman chuckled, low and mocking, clearly reveling in the tension that crackled in the room. He thrived on it, his grin widening as though Gi-hun’s defiance only added to his amusement. “Fine,” he said, the word drawn out, almost lazy. “We’ll take turns pulling the trigger without spinning the cylinder again. The bullet will be fired within six attempts, and the game will be over. What do you say?”

For a moment, silence stretched taut, the weight of Ji-cheol’s words pressing down like a physical force. Gi-hun hesitated, you could see the gears turning in his head, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. The hesitation was brief, but it felt eternal. After a while gave a sharp nod. “Let’s get this over with,” he said, his voice tight, his resolve brittle but intact.

“Wonderful.” Ji-cheol’s tone was dripping with delight as he placed the revolver in the center of the table. The polished metal gleamed under the dim light, catching your eye like a predator’s snarl. With another flick of his wrist, he sent the revolver spinning.

It slowed, the barrel’s alignment seemingly random until it stopped. The revolver’s menacing end pointed directly at Gi-hun.

Gi-hun’s hand moved toward the gun with a reluctant slowness, as if even touching it might curse him. His fingers trembled when they wrapped around the handle, and he lifted it with a carefulness usually reserved for handling fragile, dangerous things.

The room felt smaller as he raised the revolver to his temple, the weight of the weapon mirrored by the crushing silence that followed. His breaths came quick and shallow, each inhale louder than the last as he steadied his hand. The barrel pressed into his skin, a cold kiss of steel. He hesitated, his knuckles white as his grip tightened.

Just pull it, get it over with. You could almost hear the mantra running through his mind, though the beads of sweat rolling down his temple betrayed the fear he tried to mask.

Finally, with a sharp intake of breath, He squeezed the trigger.

Click.

The sound was deafening in the stillness, a hollow, empty note that echoed in your chest. Gi-hun released a shaky exhale, his body sagging slightly as relief flooded through him. For a brief moment, the gun felt lighter as he carefully set it back on the table, as though handling a venomous snake.

Ji-cheol didn’t wait. The second Gi-hun’s hand left the revolver, he snatched it up, his grin unwavering. He pressed the barrel to his temple with none of the reluctance Gi-hun had shown, but there was something in his movements—subtle, fleeting—that contradicts with his confidence. His hand trembled just slightly as he adjusted the weapon, his knuckles tightening.

He took a long, measured breath, his cocky grin faltering for a brief moment as a flicker of uncertainty passed over his features. Then, with an almost feral determination, he pulled the trigger.

Click.

The sound hung in the air like a thunderclap, Ji-cheol’s shoulders visibly relaxing as his grin returned, sharp and triumphant. He laughed softly, the sound devoid of any real humor, before setting the revolver back in the center of the table. His gaze flicked to Gi-hun, and his eyes were practically alight with sadistic glee.

Gi-hun’s expression tightened, it was his turn again. As his hand started inching toward the revolver, Ji-cheol raised a hand suddenly, halting him mid-motion.

“Wait,” He said, his voice lilting with a mockery that sent a chill down your spine. His gaze shifted—predatory and deliberate—landing squarely on you.

“[Name], would you like to join us?”

Ah. Ever the gentleman.

A low groan escaped your lips as you finally stopped your act, breaking the stillness with a deliberate slowness. Your head throbbed as you shifted upright, every movement calculated, every second drawn out. Gi-hun’s gaze landed on you with a mixture of disbelief and shock, his mouth parting as though to ask how long you’d been awake.

You met his eyes with a faint, sardonic smile, dipping your head in acknowledgment. “How thoughtful of you, Ji-cheol…” you murmured, your voice light but edged with mockery.

You didn’t wait for anyone to respond. Your hand reached for the revolver on the table with a startling calmness, fingers curling around its weighty grip. The tension in the room thickened, every breath measured and shallow as you lifted the weapon.

The barrel’s cold steel kissed your temple, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause. Your heart raced, the adrenaline flooding your veins almost intoxicating. Was it courage or recklessness driving you? You couldn’t tell, and you didn’t care. All that mattered was the here and now—the sharp, electric rush that drowned out everything else.

Your finger tightened on the trigger.

Click.

The empty sound was deafening, a hollow echo that filled the room. Your breath slipped out, slow and steady, though you weren’t sure if it was relief or something far darker that made your chest feel so tight.

Lowering the gun slightly, you glanced at Ji-cheol. The edges of your lips quirked upward, your expression sharp, your voice cutting through the silence with quiet venom. “... Allow me to return the favor,” you said.

Before anyone could stop you, your finger pulled the trigger once more.

Click.

The second dry sound rang louder than the first, and you felt the weight of every pair of eyes in the room. Gi-hun’s voice erupted in the stillness, a harsh, disbelieving shout. “Are you insane?!”

His words crashed into you, but they were distant, unimportant. Your focus stayed locked on Ji-cheol, and the smirk plastered across his face. It had widened—twisted with something primal, something that mirrored his love for chaos.

But as you shifted the gun in your hand, as the barrel turned from yourself to your lovely coworker, the room seemed to shift. Ji-cheol’s composure faltered, his smirk flickering like a flame about to die. The odds had changed, and now they were against him.

For the first time, his confidence wavered.

“Come on, Ji-cheol,” you teased, your voice dripping with mock affection. The words rolled off your tongue with an ease that felt unnatural, but the thrill of the moment made it all too satisfying. “Don’t tell me you’re scared now?”

For the first time, the salesman hesitated. His usual cocky demeanor faltered, the confident smirk slipping away as doubt crept into his eyes. Was this how it ended for him? Was he about to face the cold reality that he had pushed things too far?

His gaze fixed on you, wide and searching. You could practically see the wheels turning in his mind, but there was no escape. Your words had hit him where it hurt. The balance of power had shifted, and he could feel it. It was a strange feeling, one he hadn’t experienced with you before.

“What’s the matter?” You pressed, your voice now almost playful, but laced with venom. You could see the shock in his eyes, the disbelief that you—someone he thought he knew—had turned the tables in such an intimate, dangerous way.

He stared at you, mouth agape, unable to form words. His breath quickened, chest rising and falling, as if trying to figure out how to respond. Slowly, you stood up, each motion deliberate, your legs aching from the stillness. But the tension, the palpable charge between you two, made your body feel alive.

In all honesty, you were annoyed. Your day has already been a mess, from the last heated match to the delay in the promised hangout to the injury that will definitely cause weeks to heal from. You just wanted peace—just a moment to collect yourself. But instead, here you were, playing this twisted game because of your annoying coworker.

You moved closer to him, your presence towering over him in a way that felt almost suffocating. With a push of your hand, his back hit the cold wall with a thud. The barrel of the gun remained unwavering, still aimed to his face, as you maneuvered yourself closer, your body brushing against his with precision.

One leg was planted firmly on the ground while the other was pressed between his legs, the proximity undeniable, intense, and erotic. You could feel the heat of his body beneath your fingertips, the tension radiating from both of you. Your breath was shallow now, your senses heightened in ways that made you almost dizzy. You leaned closer to him, your mouth dangerously near his, your lips only inches apart. Your breath mingled, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to disappear.

Then, using the barrel of the gun, you tilted his head back slightly, forcing his mouth open just enough for you to slip the cold steel inside. Below you, Ji-cheol's body started to shake, and you felt it. The tremor in his form wasn’t just from fear. There was something else there—something deeper, primal, as if the situation was pushing both of you to the edge of something neither of you could fully comprehend.

The power was in your hands now.

A part of you reveled in it—how easy it was to rattle him, to strip away the confident exterior. But that other part of you, the part that longed for release from the mess of emotions you were drowning in, just wanted it to be over.

You pulled the trigger, the sharp sound of the click ringing in your ears, and for a moment, everything went still.

Click.

It was a dud.

The tension broke, but only for a moment. Your gaze immediately snapped towards Gi-hun. The final bullet was in play, and you could feel the man's eyes burning into the back of your neck. His hands trembled violently, his whole body shaking with anticipation, fear, and death.

Without removing yourself from Ji-cheol, you extended your arm out, offering the revolver to Gi-hun, expecting him to take it and end it all. To live up to the end of his deal. However, any possibility of that happening changed when his wide-eyed stare locked with yours, and you saw the raw terror in them—something you hadn’t expected from him. He wasn’t just afraid of the situation, but of you.

“What's wrong, Mr. Seong?” you asked, keeping your voice calm, though there was a sharpened edge to it now. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Gi-hun opened his mouth to speak but faltered. His lips parted, then pressed together tightly, as if wrestling with the storm of emotions raging inside him. You could feel his hesitation thickening the air between you both, a heavy tension that pushed you closer to the brink. Finally, he stood, his anger spilling over, his voice rising.

“You’re insane!” he snapped. “If you hadn’t pulled the trigger twice— if we followed the damn order, you would be the last one to shoot. You’re the one who’s supposed to die!”

The words hit you like a slap. It was true after all. But his fury, his concern—it didn’t matter. You were the one who risked it, and you were the one who will be rewarded. The game had already ended, and there was no turning back now. His words, even if they were meant to stop you, only served to push you further, deepening the anger seeping in your chest.

“And you think that’s my fault?” you said, voice cold as ice, your gaze never wavering from his. The words stung, but you didn't flinch. “You think I give a damn about that?”

Without warning, you aimed the revolver at him and fired. The final click rang out, breaking the heavy silence with cold, brutal finality.

The room held its breath. Gi-hun’s body jerked once, his wide eyes still locked onto yours in disbelief as the realization hit him. His legs gave way, and he collapsed, blood beginning to pool beneath him. There was no more struggle, no more fight. Just the soft, final exhale of his breath, leaving the world in silence.

Below you, the voice of your coworker pierced the thick air, a low murmur in your ear. “Well done, [Name].”

You turned to him. His usual smirk was gone, replaced by something darker, more dangerous—something like admiration, but tinged with something possessive.

You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, like a tangible pressure. The heat between your bodies simmered, an undeniable force that threatened to pull you closer. You didn’t need to say anything, because at that moment, everything was clear between you two.

“Really?” you said, your voice lowered in a husky sultry tone, as if you were challenging him. Your fingers tightened around the revolver, the weight of it no longer heavy, but oddly comforting.

Without a word, Ji-cheol moved with swift precision. One moment, you were standing tall, the next, his hands were beside your head, pinning you against the wall with a force that made your breath catch in your throat.

“Don’t think for a second I’m done with you, [Name],” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, but there was something else in it now—a layer of hunger, an edge that felt almost possessive.

Slowly—as if to test him—you raised the revolver to your lips, your eyes never leaving his. Ji-cheol watched with intensity as you seductively sucked on the gun's barrel. His eyes trailed down, watching as saliva began dripping on your hand as you swirl your tongue around the barrel with such intensity that he wished you were doing it to him instead.

Watching his throat constrict as he swallowed deeply and feeling his bulge harden on your thigh. You pulled the gun out your mouth with a satisfying pop before throwing it to the ground. Without wasting any time, Ji-cheol immediately grabbed your chin forcing you to look at him. And instead of hurt, his touch sent a jolt of pleasure through your body.

He placed his knee up against your crotch—the action earning a low, hungry moan from you—before using his free hand to pull your body closer to him, his hard bulge colliding with your thigh. Ji-cheol released a low, and drawn-out moan before leaning in closer, his breath, which was just a hair away from your lips, was weak and warm—full of yearning and lust.

“You’re playing with fire, and I can’t promise you won’t get burned,” he murmured, the words dripping with an unsettling mix of desire and threat.

The heat in his voice made your pulse quicken in excitement. Your body responded to the proximity, to the rawness of the moment. Every inch of you was alive, and Ji-cheol, for all his calm control, couldn’t hide the dark hunger in his gaze. You could see it, feel it, as though it were an invisible thread pulling you together.

For a fleeting moment, it was almost as if the rest of the world had disappeared. It was just you, Ji-cheol, and the dangerous, magnetic pull between you both. With his lips hovered just inches from yours, you knew this was the moment that would change everything between you two.

#squid game #squid game x reader #squid game fanfic #squid game x you #the salesman x reader #the salesman x you #gong yoo x reader #oneshot #wqnsho.writes

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beyondthetemples-ooc · 9 hours ago

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I took it for my OCs because this just has Such a Good Exploration of Their Aesthetics and Motivations that I wanted to see what they'd get!

Dove:

(wait how did Dove get the same result as me, I think all of her answers were different???) Anyways:

a ring

you’ve made the band simple and beautiful, and inlaid just the details needed to make it special. not too gaudy, not too plain. it’s a ring meant to last forever, meant to be worn forever; when you put it on someone, it wraps around their finger perfectly, delights them. you’ve tried to make it something that people will keep. you needn’t have worried: no matter who you put it on, with time, it starts to wrap tighter around their finger. starts to cling. starts to constrict. you can’t take it off of them, when they beg you to get them free; their skin starts to redden, to bruise, to go black. the only time they manage to get it off is when the finger goes with it. as a sign of devotion, it leaves a strong impression. nobody that you pledge yourself to leaves without a mark.

(This result is weirdly fitting for her, considering she spends a solid 3 chapters fretting that her husband choosing to live his life with her is costing him his health and may well cost him his life. And the sad thing is, she's not entirely wrong.)

Srentha:

statue

bit by bit, you carve away the shape of a person, a figure that starts to feel more real the more material that you cut from around it. you make the legs, the arms, the torso, the head; this is your masterwork, your galatea. as you are carving the face, something slips; your hand, maybe, or a fault in the material, a defect in your tool. it leaves a slight chip across the figure’s smooth cheekbone. it has already been carved. it cannot be removed. you finish the rest of the statue. it is wonderful, by all accounts; if you can muster the ability to show it to others, they tell you that it’s a beautiful piece of art. you can’t take your eyes off the chip, though. the mark. no matter where you are in the room, your gaze finds it again, unerringly. you stare at it for hours. you dream of it at night. no matter how lovely the figure may be, no matter how beautiful the face, the imperfection haunts you. you start to hate what you’ve made. hate the mark. hate the figure as a whole. when you are alone with the piece, your fingers start to twitch. when you look down at a pile of smashed stone, you can’t tell if you are still caught in one of your desperate dreams. one of your hopeful nightmares. in the rubble, you can see a piece of the face. the chip still remains.

(So the pride in his creations is ABSOLUTELY Srentha! Being haunted by one mistake... It's not canon, but I could see it being so in his nightmares.)

a doll

you’ve made it to be as approachable as you can. a comely face, a soft body, made to be held and be played with and be loved. it looks a bit like you; the way that all things look like their creators, you suppose. you offer it to someone else. they smile with a polite amount of teeth and no warmth when they decline your offer. you give it away. you find it on your doorstep again, days later, slightly damaged. stepped on. no matter who you hand it to, no matter who you entrust with it, it ends up in your arms again, worse for wear every time. that is the conclusion that you have to come to. you are the only one who will hold it gently. the only one who will keep it. but even you don’t really want it anymore, do you? you resent it and feel your heart break for it all at the same time. it’s hard to love a thing that nobody else will. it’s hard not to think that there’s a reason it continues to be discarded. you know this better than you know how to say.

(...oh that would HURT her. She's an oddball, quirky to the point of being disconcerting sometimes, but she struggles to find her place in the world. Having a doll that also struggles to find its place would make it like she put eerily much of herself into it...)

Kary:

a sword

it’s a beautiful thing, truly. the edge shines, razor-sharp, and the hilt gleams with polish. it looks like something that only you could have created. it looks like a part of you, made metal and melted into a blade. every detail and decoration along the hilt makes it really and truly yours. when you use it, it works just as any sword should, right up until the final hit; and then it fails. the final stroke through the dragon’s neck. the final strike against the chains. the final slice through an enemy. right as you need it, truly, it slips. or it catches against something. or it breaks. it fails you, in the end, and through the disaster, you’re not sure if you’re glad to see the dreadful thing finally shatter or heartbroken that it couldn’t stay.

(Imagine the sword is Kary's self-reliance and It's Absolutely True.)

quiz enjoyers! i am now inviting you to come create something in my workshop❕

#oc rebloggables #personality quiz #uquiz

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angelshadowsinger · 14 hours ago

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Scarlet-Tipped Secrets; Peonies, for You (2)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Azriel x f!reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.4k

𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐲: angst

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 (𝐓𝐖):

hanahaki!au, TW gore/vomiting (mildly descriptive— it’s bloody petals), unrequited love, themes of depression and lack of self worth, pining (so much pining), & dramaaaaa

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

When you develop feelings for your best friend, you delude yourself into believing you can ignore them for the rest of your life, if it means you can stay by his side. But once he starts seeing someone else, you discover that if you continue keeping your secret… your time on earth may be cut short. You find yourself with an impossible choice— remove all attachments to the shadowsinger and live, or hold out hope and suffer the consequences.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:

Hiii sorry I dropped off the face of the earth!! Hope all is well with you guys~ Here is part 2 (in case anyone remembers part 1 hehhh oops)

𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:

Mates do not exist in the universe that this fic is set in, meaning Elain is not “off limits” to Az, and Cass is single. Additionally, since mates aren’t a thing, marriage/weddings are! ⤷ Part 1 here

･゜゜・．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ: ʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪꜰʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ 18 ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ. ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.

･゜゜・．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

“You’ve been avoiding us.”

Your eyes flew up to catch Rhysand’s sparkling violet gaze, a perfectly groomed brow risen to meet the edge of his dark hairline. The agile form of the High Lord leaned against the doorway to your office, blending into the darkness of the otherwise unoccupied hallway.

A deep sigh escaped you upon seeing him, knowing you would have to either fabricate some explanation that he would most likely see through, or admit the truth to him. Your gaze hesitantly floated back down to the brewing station before you, fingers coming to awkwardly play with the knob for the flame.

You’d been so engrossed in the potion you were currently brewing that you hadn’t been paying attention— it had been hours now that you’d been entranced in your work, attempting to perfect this damned concoction. You hadn’t noticed as the sun bled into moon across the now-dark sky outside, and you hadn’t thought to lend an ear to any approaching figures. Not that you’d have heard the sneak anyway.

It had been only a few weeks since you told Cassian of your condition, and since then you hadn’t thought of it as much, though your fits had remained just as frequent and unfortunately, somewhat intense. Your ailments were the very reason you had been throwing yourself into your work— part distraction, part desperation to concoct something to help stave off another fit full of blood-soaked petals.

Naturally, as you spent more hours toiling at your potion shop down on the Rainbow, you had less time to linger around the Inner Circle. It wasn’t that you particularly wanted to separate yourself from everyone, it was just… easier this way. You didn’t have to worry about running into Azriel, and you didn’t have to act like you were fine in front of your friends when you were anything but.

But of course, your absence from the Inner Circle was indeed soon noticed— the very reason for Rhys’ impromptu visit. Perhaps it was Feyre whispering pillow talk to her mate, merely expressing that she missed her friend. Or it could have been when Mor received another notice of you bailing on your weekly yaps over dinner that always turned to dancing. Perhaps it was Nesta’s off handed comment about you missing book club again as the group sat around the dinner table.

Whatever it was that gave Rhysand the push to investigate today, you loathed the position you now found yourself in.

The notion of admitting the truth aloud to your High Lord now made you pale, palms bursting into a sweat. Maybe you could tiptoe around this whole thing, if you played your cards right. There was a chance that Rhys hadn’t put the pieces together yet, a chance that you could tiptoe by, just for another day of peace.

“I’ve been busy,” you replied. It wasn’t such an outlandish response— you truly had been keeping busy in order to occupy your mind from the misery your life had become.

The male sighed before he pushed off the door and meandered closer. Sitting down in a chair across from your work table, he rested strong hands on his knees.

“You’ve been keeping busy,” he corrected. You bit your tongue. “We males may be slower to take than the girls, but Azriel is going to notice you’re avoiding him sooner or later.”

You flinched.

Bullseye.

There was no chance Rhys missed your reaction— A panther jumping straight for the throat of its prey. Slashing through the niceties, the bullshit. He knew he had you in his claws now.

So much for your measly hope of escape.

You stared at the vial in front of you, refusing to meet his eye. There was a part of you that wanted to get up and scream— scream at him for intruding, scream at Cassian for blabbing, scream at everyone, at love, at the world. But that was only a small, small part of you.

No, the larger part of you was just… exhausted. Bone-tired from upholding this charade. You sagged into your seat, face falling from your carefully-crafted neutrality and morphing into despair.

Rhys was beside you in an instant, violet handkerchief at the ready.

You didn’t want to cry anymore, Gods this was so fucking annoying! Why couldn’t Azriel just love you? Why was this happening to you, why did you deserve this agony? Why did he love her, what was it she had that you didn’t?!

Tears dripped off your chin into your lap, splotching onto your stained work apron. You let out a shaky breath, throat starting to itch with that sick soft feeling of the petals swelling up.

Panic surged in a chain reaction— you didn’t want Rhys to see it, didn’t want anyone else to know and to watch you as you suffered and retched your guts out. Your ears started ringing and your eyes widened, blurry from the tears and the oncoming fit.

“Y/N, are you okay, you look sick–”

The doors Rhys had just been leaning on burst open and Cassian barreled through, wings splayed and teeth bared.

Both you and Rhys were stunned for a moment, and then Cass was up beside the two of you and slotting himself in between.

Large hands pushed his brother back hard and Rhys stumbled backward, shocked as he gaped at his brother who now glowered down at him.

The pure surprise you felt staved off the vicious nausea as your mind left those nasty, awful thoughts, only focusing on the present right before your eyes.

It only took Rhys a moment to gain his bearings, the challenge his brother issued by laying hands on him now recognized and definitely not going to be swept beneath the rug.

“Cassian.” Rhys growled out the name like a huntsman reprimanding a hound.

But your friend stood his ground, even if a tremor traveled through his body at the tone of his High Lord. “Don’t come to her work and just interrogate her, she’s not some mortal pet,” Cassian said after a moment, tone hard but not as aggressive. He turned a shoulder to his brother who looked slightly shocked, warm hazel landing on your small, hunched form. “Are you alright?”

You closed your agape mouth and nodded, blinking away the drying wetness from before.

Rhys stepped closer from the wall he had been shoved against, head poking around Cassian’s broad shoulders. He was clearly still miffed at the altercation, but concern seemed to take over as his violet eyes shimmered and he appraised your weary state.

“Y/N, I apologize. I didn’t mean to upset you,“ he said, voice sincere.

Cassian looked to his brother and sighed, fingers coming to push back a loose tendril of brown from his half-up bun. He pulled out the chair from the nearby workbench, plopping down with apparent exhaustion.

Rhys, ever observant, took it upon himself to take reins of the situation now that tempers had deescalated. “Please understand– I miss you. Everyone does, very much so. Especially the girls, you know how they are.”

You took a deep breath and hoped that you had the strength for the ensuing conversation.

“I miss everyone too,” you admitted, gaze glued to the stone floor. Your hands came to rub the sides of your arms, crossing them protectively before your chest. You asked as you turned to the long-haired Illyrian, “Did you tell him?”

Cass raised a thick brow, offended. “No, I haven’t said a word, I swear.”

Rhys rolled his eyes. “As if you’d have to say anything. I run an entire Court, I think I’d know when something is amiss within my own rankings,” he countered to his General.

After a beat, with a softer tone and gaze, he turned his attention to you. “I figure you must have some feelings towards our Spymaster,” he reasoned, “and thus I can understand why you’d like some distance from him at the moment. But our court needs you, and your friends need you too. If you’re having a hard time, we would like to be there for you, whatever you need.”

The High Lord’s peace offering touched your tattered heart. You nodded in understanding, looking away to share a glance with Cassian, whose eyes seemed to say ‘Maybe it would be best to tell him, too.’

“The choice is yours,” he said, holding your gaze. Whatever you decide, I’ll stand by you.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. You began, “Rhys, it’s actually not all that simple…”

–

The reality of your situation had somewhat floored the High Lord. After all, your disease was actually quite rare in Prythian lands, and most had never heard of such a thing. You hadn’t before your self-diagnosis, and you were a healer for Goddess’ sake.

Rhys agreed to keep your secret– after much apologizing and sympathy. He even swore to try his best to keep Feyre from finding out the truth in fear that her heart would break, torn between her brother and one of her closest friends, as he now was.

You didn’t know if you more hated or appreciated the pity his violet irises held when he left you– the look of sorrow and understanding, one that you didn’t really know quite what to do with.

Cassian had offered to walk you home from your office, but you’d asked instead to have a moment to yourself, excusing yourself into the evening alone. The pair of you were originally supposed to go to dinner for another night of drinks and distraction, but after the surprise visit from Rhys, and the rather somber explanation of your reality, your spirits were feeling worn.

He had given you a sad look of understanding, but didn’t argue– just said that if you needed him, he’d come whenever.

You appreciated Cass too, your friend– your only confidant in this tribulating time. Yet a part of you felt bad for burdening him with this overwhelming secret– especially when the one he was keeping it from was his very own brother. And now, Rhys was in the same exact position, too.

The thought made your shoulders sag, steps a little slower as you trekked by the winding cobbled path along the Sidra.

The sun was almost fully set and now there was a bite of chill in the air as the summer waned into fall. Though the leaves were still green on the trees, evenings began to grow longer and days shorter, and soon the cold winter would be upon the Night Court.

You stopped to gaze at the powerful river beside you, leaning against the iron gate separating you from the swirling current below. Maybe it was dreary, but you wondered if this would be your last autumn. If you would make it ‘til winter, even…

Your bouts weren’t necessarily worsening but they hadn’t gotten any better. And the harsh reality was, you couldn’t live like this, how your sickness currently was.

You would have to schedule the procedure soon.

So that you could live, and so that this didn’t have to be your last fall. Just your last fall in Velaris… your last fall with Azriel.

As if some twist of fate would have it, your skin prickled and your heart skipped a beat as the familiar beat of wings neared, a shadow growing beside you. The familiar scent of cedar and rain washed over you– a smell that once had been salvation now turned painful. You swallowed harshly and schooled your spine into a straight line, as if you weren’t just considering your bleak future.

Wisps of shadow sprawled out around you as lithe feet touched ground, those huge membranous wings folding up to sit squarely behind broad shoulders.

“Hey stranger,” Azriel said, bumping arms with you in a warm greeting. He seemed to be in a good mood– a small smile bloomed on your lips at his happiness.

You could feel his intense, beautiful gaze on your cheek, but you didn’t turn to face him, just glanced at him sideways for a moment with your half-hearted smile. “Hi, Az,” you returned, voice soft, before your eyes focused back on the waters below.

Whorls of shadow twisted up over your pants and across the exposed skin of your arms, greeting you in their own way. You closed your eyes and welcomed them with a quiet laugh, closing your eyes and enjoying the sensation of them dancing in the ends of your hair. They did so for a minute before returning to their master, coiling around him in satisfaction, whispering lowly with glee.

You watched as his handsome face slightly scrunched before he turned his attention back to you. It looked as if a question was about to fall from his lips before you looked away again, heart beating a little faster and clammy palms gripping onto the fence before you a little harder.

Whatever Azriel was going to say, he decided against– instead content to allow the pair of you to fall into a wistful pause of silence.

“I haven’t seen you very much lately…” The shadowsinger eventually trailed off.

You didn’t find the quiet that lingered between the pair of you particularly uncomfortable, but it seemed he did by the way he ran his fingers through his hair. You wondered what it felt like— how the silky, dark locks would feel in your hands, what it would be like to be allowed that intimacy.

“We’ve both been busy, I guess,” you murmured, studying the various rocks that lined the riverbed below.

It was too difficult to even look at him… you didn’t think he’d notice your ever-growing absence from the Inner Circle, with his new fiancé to distract him. But this was the Spymaster you were talking about— of course he would notice. Not because he cared about you; not in that way, the way you so desperately wanted. But because it was his job, his role.

What were the odds of both Rhys and Azriel confronting you on the same day? Your emotions were already so battered from speaking with his brother earlier… you didn’t think you could handle talking to the male before you for very long. Exhaustion pulsed in your bones, your body weak and frail, as though you might blow away with a strong gust of wind.

Azriel watched your gaze. He noted how your fingers clutched the iron, the quiet breaths you took as your eyes landed anywhere but him. Guarded.

“Are you alright, Y/n?” he asked, finally braving the question that had been poised at the tip of his tongue for weeks.

It had been a long time since the Shadowsinger felt like the two of you were close, and you had drifted away even further since he had announced his engagement to Elain. He thought you were just giving him space so he could shower his new fiancée in attention, but you didn’t look very well now that he had you before him… He mentally cursed himself for pulling back his usual few slips of shadow that tailed you always, the ones that would come back to him in the dark of night and tell him you were alright, happy and safe. He should’ve noticed something was up with you, should’ve come to you sooner.

Your eyes were glued to the dying sunlight that rippled off the far waves. You hoped that he wouldn’t ask why you wouldn’t look at him; you didn’t know if you could come up with a believable excuse. Taking a moment to find your response, Azriel shifted uneasily beside you. You replied softly, “I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you lately, Az.”

The male frowned. “That’s not what I— I’m worried about you… You’ve been avoiding everyone lately. I mean, I haven’t seen you in weeks. Are you okay?”

Your gaze fell to your hands resting on the balustrade, the gentle evening wind rustling your hair. You put all your energy into sounding convincing, but somehow your voice sounded hollow when you spoke. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Azriel sighed. “Of course I want you to be okay, Y/N… but you don’t really expect me to believe that, do you?” His gaze lingered on your back, scarred hands curled into themselves.

“It’s what you want to hear, Az. I’ve just… got a lot on my mind these days. And you’ve got a lot on your plate with…,” you choked, the words scathing like you were tearing your own skin off, ” the wedding… So, you don’t have to worry about me,” you explained, your voice soft. It wasn’t a lie; your mind had been a place of great turbulence for quite some time now; a prison that you couldn’t escape, the walls only drawing closer every time you closed your eyes.

The male silently slunk a little closer to you, his presence that once calmed you now making your chest ache. “Don’t be like that, I’ll always have time for you. No matter what… or who. Just tell me what’s on your mind,” he offered, the timbre in his voice soft but strong. “Elain says I am a great listener.”

You closed your eyes and forced in a deep breath, her name like a stab to your heart from the dagger that lived on his narrow hip. The back of your throat started to tickle as your emotions heightened, but you knew you had to stay strong above all else.

You couldn’t let him see. He wouldn’t see.

“Thank you, Az— you are, and you always have been. This is just… something I have to figure out for myself, I think.” Your heart begged for you to throw a snide comment in about him not having time to listen to you anyway— since every moment you saw him now he was glued to Elain. But you couldn’t bring yourself to pettiness; you didn’t have the strength to utter more words than necessary.

The cool caress of his shadows greeted your cheek, causing you to look at him. He had snuck even closer, his chest now just barely brushing your shoulder. His face was so strikingly handsome at such close proximity; you nearly burst into a coughing fit just from looking at him. Only a few weeks had gone by without him and yet he seemed even more perfect than ever.

Gods, he was perfect. So sweet, perceptive, and gentle… And kind, and considerate.

And he was not yours.

“You don’t have to handle everything on your own, Y/n,” he murmured, hazel soft as he drank in your sunken skin, the bags beneath your eyes. He examined the gauntness of your face, noted the paleness of your complexion.

You could see the care he held for you in that gaze. It was never a question of if he cared for you— that was never the problem. The problem was that he only cared for you as a friend, and that was all you would ever be to him.

A cough bloomed at the back of your tongue and you sputtered, clearing your throat. “I know,” you rasped, catching your breath. That wicked gaze was fixed on you, aporetic, sharp. “And I’m not, so please just… let it go.”

Azriel drew a low breath when you pushed past him, your shoulder nudging into his on the way. He called out behind you just as you were about to leave.

“I don’t understand why you can talk to Cassian about it and not me.”

You froze, blood chilling to your bones.

“I saw you two, after the ball. He had you scooped up in his arms and you were crying.”

Your lip curled.

Shadows. Those fucking spies of his.

This was the Spymaster you were playing in the flames with, now. You had to give him cold, hard words that he couldn’t find a soft spot to stab into, or else your cover would be blown. You couldn’t let him find your truth— had to bury away any scrap of vulnerability you possibly could.

“There’s nothing for you to understand, Azriel… And don’t pretend like you actually give a fuck— if you saw that, why are you only checking on me now? That was weeks ago.”

Azriel’s handsome face was marred with shock for a moment before it morphed into a scowl. The glare he directed your way sizzled, frustration radiating off of him. “I had just gotten engaged, if you recall. I'm sorry that there’s another woman in my life now who comes first, I can’t come running to pick up the pieces for you right away any more.”

You felt your heart crack. You didn’t know if Azriel heard the tiny whimper that escaped as pain sliced through you— his words confirming a truth you’d already tried to prepare yourself for.

“You’re clearly not over it, whatever it was that happened, even now— I still care, Y/n, I just… I just don’t understand,” he explained, exasperation straining his voice. “Why are you being like this? We tell each other everything.”

Not anymore, rang through your conscience bitterly, and your throat clamped with the effort of fending off another fit. All you could do was stare at him for a moment as you fought the physical urge to vomit and sob at the same time. Somehow you pushed through, forcing out words— any words you could find so that petals didn’t come tumbling out instead.

“I’m taking care of it! Just– Gods, I’m not some desperate act looking for sympathy. You don’t have to take pity on a poor little loner like me, now that you’ve got everything you could ever dream of, Azriel. Cass caught me at the right time is all, when I needed someone he was there,” you said truthfully.

Had Cassian not found you passed out beside a petal of blood-covered petals, you never would have told him the truth. Or anyone, for that matter.

“I get that she comes first now, that’s fine,” you continued, “And I’m glad you two are so in love that all you need is each other. That’s great, just… don’t be mad that when you cut me out of your life I find another shoulder to cry on. I’m not your problem anymore, so just… leave it alone. Just… leave me alone. Please.”

Azriel stared at you, hazel eyes wide and lips pursed as your plea settled over him.

Somehow you were still standing, shallow breaths ragged as silence filled the emptiness between you. After a pregnant pause, your feet moved on their own, desperate for escape.

But Azriel caught your wrist as you attempted to push past him again. His fingers were warm and rough, and much to your chagrin, your skin sang at his touch. He dragged you closer, so your bodies just brushed and the allure of his heat whispered to your form.

“No,” he said almost under his breath, so lowly you nearly didn’t hear him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be such a dick, I–” he cut himself off and growled, brow furrowed and exasperated with himself, “I don’t care about any of that shit, I just— I just care about you.”

Your heart leapt into your throat. He leaned in and your knees wobbled at his proximity. The intoxicating scent of cedar rolled off of him and you tried your best to hold your breath.

“Your friendship means so much to me. I’d go insane without you, I can’t— I don’t wanna do anything to fuck that up. I feel like shit ‘cuz I haven’t been here for you when you’re going through something and I’m— I'm lashing out when I should be trying to make up for it. I just want you to know that I’ll do better, and if you need me, then I’ll be here… Okay?”

Hazel pierced into you, filled with such care… but at the same time, his gaze was searching; probing and astute. You studied the flecks in those beautiful irises— wondered what they’d look like full of love and infatuation, staring straight down the barrel of your soul.

“Okay,” you whispered, eyes starry with tears you would not let fall, praying this conversation would just end already.

Azriel smiled weakly, letting out a breath as he took a step back. “I’m sorry, Y/n.”

You nodded, also stepping to the side, creating more distance. “You don’t need to apologize. You’re busy these days and that’s okay. I know. Please don’t feel bad about being happy.”

It was Azriel’s turn to nod at that, tucking scarred hands into his pockets casually before clearing his throat.

“Right, well… Let me take you home?” he offered, arms slightly outstretched as massive wings unfurled behind him.

The thought of spending one more second in the male’s presence made your stomach twist with agony, but you knew better than to even try to argue. Any words you breathed in protest would be wasted. There was no way in hell Azriel was going to leave you to walk home alone on any given day— but especially not after that big of a fight.

Instead, you meekly whispered, “Can you winnow me?” Already stepping into his embrace, you tried to bypass any unnecessary seconds in his presence. “I’m fucking freezing,” was your excuse, and even though it was nowhere near such temperatures, Azriel obeyed without question.

Muscular arms wrapped around you and you let yourself lean onto his firm chest for just the moment it took to slip away between the shadows. There was only one brief pause when it was just the two of you, enveloped in darkness between the planes of the Sidra and your kitchen, when you let yourself breathe in his heavenly scent, and let the feeling of his embrace sink into your skin.

But it was over just like that, and immediately you stepped away, bumping back against the countertop. You shot him a brief smile which he returned, uttering a small “goodnight” before he slipped back into the darkness and away into the night.

You stared at the empty spot which he had just occupied, weariness throbbing through your form. Pure exhaustion blossomed deep within you and all you craved was the sweet nothingness of sleep— the one time you could slip away from your hellish reality of pain and longing. But sleep was still far off, you knew, as you padded over to the washroom and sank to your knees before the toilet, readying yourself for a grueling night filled with scarlet-tipped petals once again.

okayyyy so we finally met Az this chapter!! what do we think? isnt he so angsty and scrumptious heheee

⤷ masterlist

#azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel angst #acotar fanfiction #acotar x you #acotar angst #angelshadowsinger #acotar fic #azriel fic #my work #STSPFY series

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rosiereveries · 1 day ago

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professor!John who teaches history at university. You finally have classes with him and since the beginning of the year, all the girls in your year talk about how hot he is. He is something over 40 and he won the secret dilf competition that you made with your friends.

You take extra good time preparing for his classes, not just you learn the materials for the lesson, you also make sure that your outfit looks nice, that your hair is perfectly styled, and your makeup looks flawless. You always wear short skirts and cute tops to his classes, and you are 100% sure that when you wear knee high socks, he looks at you more that on the other girls.

John noticed you the very first time you came to his class. You sat in the first row like the good girl you are, and you raised your hand every time he asked questions. There were so many girls in his classes who tried to seduce him, but none of them were as smart as you were. You always had perfect score on your test, and he knew that you wanted to make him proud. It was just a bonus that when you crossed your legs on the chair you were sitting, he could sometimes see your panties.

He tried to wait until the end of the year, to approach you, so he wouldn’t be your professor anymore when he would fuck you. But you gave him no choice with your flirty remarks and your outfits.

That’s why he called you into his office after your lesson ended. He wanted to speak with you about the paper you were working on, and he wanted you to tell him how it was going.

When you get into his office you start to talk about your paper. You hoped that he called you there for other reasons, but he is patiently listening while you ramble about the sources and literature you found. After a while he asks you if you would mind if he smoke, he tells you that he needs a little bit of relaxation before his next class.

You watched him as he lights up a cigarette and offers you one. You decline and watch him blow out the smoke. “You sure you don’t want one?” he asks and when you tell him that you never really smoked, he pats his thigh and tells you to come closer.

“You know, this time of the year everything is so hectic” he says, “maybe you could help me with some pent-up stress, you know. What you think?”

That’s how you end up on the floor on your knees under his desk. You kneel between his thighs unzipping his trousers and taking out his thick cock. He is bigger that you imagined, and you know that there’s no way you can take him whole into your mouth. He gathers your hair in his hand, and he makes you look up at him. “You always look so pretty for me, but I think you will look even better with these lips around my dick” he says, and he gently guides your head to his crotch.

You choke on him quite a lot. You can take half of his length without a problem but after that, your gag reflex makes you stop. You hear him mumble something about training your mouth. When John finishes his cigarette, he makes you stand up, your lipstick ruined, most of it is on his cock like a pretty mark you left.

He bends you over his desk, pulling your skirt up. You can feel his cock teasing you through your underwear. When he pulls your panties down and starts to push inside you can feel him stretching you. “Just like that, you’re taking me so well, you’re so wet for me” he says. John pushes one hand under your t-shirt, pulling it up so he can see your tits. He tells you to take it off, so you just stand there in your skirt and knee-high socks.

He fucks you rough, quick thrust that makes your eyes roll. He plays with your nipples, twisting and pulling them until your breast are sensitive. You know that you don’t have a lot of time, anytime now his colleague could come back from their lunch break and find you like this.

When John starts to rub circles on your clit you can feel your orgasm approaching. With one hand he rubs your most sensitive part, and the other one is around your throat. “I need you to cum on my cock, I need you to milk me dry with your sweet wet pussy” he tells you and you can feel that he is also close. You cum like the good girl you are right as he tells you. A few moments later he is cuming inside you, his hot seed spilling in your pussy.

He helps you to put your clothes on. He pulls up your panties, and when he sees that his cum is spilling from your pussy, he quickly pushes two fingers inside you, saying that it needs to stay where it belongs. You’re still there, in his office with your thighs still trembling when his colleague comes back. John walks you out on the hallway, saying that you should come to see him again tomorrow at noon, that you still have a lot of work to do. You just hope that his colleague can’t hear when he whispers that you should come without panties this time.

Masterlist

#call of duty #cod #john price #rosiereveries #task force 141 #john price x reader #john price x f!reader #john price x you #captain john price #cod x reader

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starzify · 3 days ago

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DRIVE - dean winchester

pairing dean winchester x bimbo!reader

warnings smut | fingering | unprotected p in v | fluff

MASTERLIST

You’ve always liked things uncomplicated—easy, no strings, just fun. But then there’s Dean. And then there’s you. You’re the kind of girl who turns heads without even trying. Flawless skin, perfectly applied makeup that makes your lips look just a little too inviting, and hair that falls in soft, glossy waves—everything about you radiates effortless beauty. You wear those cute, frilly dresses that cling to your curves in all the right places, paired with heels that click against the pavement like a little tease with every step you take. It’s not hard to tell that you enjoy the attention, and you know Dean’s been stealing glances at you from the second you walked up.

You approach the Impala with a playful grin, your eyes flickering over his strong frame as he leans casually against the car, that signature smirk tugging at his lips. You can feel the tension building, but you just can’t resist. You reach for the lock, pretending to struggle with it, letting your pout grow more dramatic as you glance up at him, batting your lashes. “You sure I can handle this ride?”

Dean chuckles, his gaze darkening as he looks you over, clearly amused by your little act. “You sure you can?”

You step closer, hips swaying just a little more than usual, feeling his eyes on you like a caress. You let out a soft, teasing laugh, letting the scent of your perfume hang in the air between you. You look up at him, your voice lowering, the playful challenge in your tone becoming more obvious. “I can handle anything, Dean,” you say, each word coming out slow, deliberate, a promise wrapped in teasing confidence.

His eyes narrow, and for a split second, his smirk falters, his gaze lingering on your lips before snapping back up to meet your eyes. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” he mutters, the hint of something darker lacing his words.

You slide into the passenger seat with a casual grace, making sure to cross your legs slowly, giving him a perfect view of the way your dress hugs your thighs. You lean in just a little, close enough for him to smell the sweet, irresistible scent of your perfume, your eyes never leaving his. You smile—soft, suggestive, and just a little too knowing. “You’re gonna like it, I promise,” you whisper, your voice low, slow, each word like an invitation.

The air between you feels thick, charged, like the moment before a storm. You lean back against the seat, your body turned toward him, the weight of your gaze heavy. You’re not entirely sure where this is going, but you know Dean’s about to find out exactly how fun—how dangerous—it can be when you get what you want.

As he began driving, he placed his hand on your knee, your mini skirt giving him easy access. Soon enough, he noticed the effect his touch had on you when you pressed your thighs together.

When the traffic lights turned red, Dean looked over to you and you smiled shyly with a gleam of lust in your eyes. He moved his hand further up your leg, eliciting a small moan from you. Your heartbeat speeded up as Dean’s fingers traced along your panties. You shivered when he collected your wetness before pushing your panties to the side and sliding a finger inside of you. “Please…” You whimpered with need.

You whined when he pulled his finger out of you once he was signalled to drive, leaving you with an ache. Dean’s patience started running so his last option was to find an abandoned parking lot and hope for the best. He pushed his seat all the way back and took your hand in his. “Come here, sweetheart.” He ordered, patting his lap. You nodded, unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants down along with his boxers. You quickly took your lacy panties off and bunched up your skirt at your hips before getting on top of him and aligning your entrance with his cock.

You let out a sigh of relief when you sank down, your eyes screwed shut as you adjusted to his size. Once you got used to it, you started grinding against him as Dean impatiently pulled your crop top over your head, fondling with your tits. “You like that, love?” He groaned. You panted and tried to spit out a few syllables, unable to form a coherent sentence. “Oh, baby…I’ve fucked you completely stupid, haven’t I?” He chuckled through huffs and puffs.

The car was filled with moans, groans and profanities, your skin sticky with sweat as the windows fogged up from heavy breaths. Dean threaded his fingers through your messy hair that was once perfectly styled and gently guided you to look at him. “You gonna come, honey?” He grunted. “Uh huh!” You rasped in bliss.

Within one last thrust, you reached your climax. “Fuck!” You both cried out as he quickly pulled out and came all over your stomach. As he slowed his movements, you collapsed on his chest as Dean fumbled for a tissue paper to clean you up.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence and hair stroking, a thought struck your mind. You hurriedly looked into the rear-view mirror and immediately pouted at what you saw.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? You okay?” Dean asked with concern. “My makeup’s ruined!” You whined.

tags: @cosmicsully @ultravi0lence14 @floralscented @lanadelreyscokewhor3 @drewstarkeyzwhore @urloveada @hischrrypie @bluemerakis @dollsltt @figthoughts @haunteres @emeraldcrs @chevroletdean @beausling @lacydollette @s0urw00lf @frosttbitessam @lanawinterscigarettes @swe3twitch @rafespreciosa

#dean winchester #bimbo!reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #supernatural #jensen ackles #jensen fucking ackles

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embbarnes · 1 day ago

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Goddd sorry this took me so long to reblog! I read this three times and I absolutely adore it. Dofp Logan is one of my favorite eras. I love his attitude and look throughout the film. I was so excited this was the version you went with!!

More below the cut 💕

“Don’t use so much force.” You curse as the tip of the blade impales the target a whopping three inches from the center. By far your worst throw yet, though this one isn’t entirely your fault. You snap your head towards the unexpected but familiar voice, pulling your last dagger from the holster secured around your thigh before chucking it in his general direction. It flies past him, bouncing off the wall behind him. You knew that it wouldn’t actually hit him. And if by some miracle it had, he’d heal in two seconds and then go right back to being a pain in your ass. A good looking pain in your ass, admittedly. But a pain in your ass nonetheless.

This entire bit is perfect. When I was a kid, I had anger management problems. I couldn't really interact with a lot of people because of it so it made socialization hard for me. I really like how you wrote the reader in this one, I can resonate with them.

“As unsolicited as my advice may be,” he says lowly as he pulls your hand back slightly, “I give it because if there is ever a situation where someone's trying to hurt you, and you’re unable to light them on fire for some reason, I would really hope that you could at least impale them.”

Logan, I hope you know, if I had pyrokinesis...that's the first thing I'm doing.

Thick stubble scratches your innermost thighs as sharp teeth and soft lips alternate between kissing and biting the sensitive flesh between your legs. His face is covered in your slick from the three orgasms he’s already pulled from you with his tongue. He lays nestled between your legs, pinning you to the mattress beneath you. Your thighs rest across his shoulders, his hands splayed across your belly. You're putty in his hands. “I've gotta say, the sounds you make when you cum are way cuter than the sounds I'm used to hearing from you,” Logan muses against your cunt. His voice sends a vibration over your already overstimulated core.

SCREAMING at this part 😍😩 I love, love, LOVE how you describe smut scenes sm.

As you approach the end of the hallway that leads from the team member's bedrooms to the kitchen, you hear the soft shuffling of footsteps and see low lighting that spills from the refrigerator. As soon as you step into the kitchen, you come to a halt. You recognize the large frame standing in front of the open fridge right away. Of fucking course it would be him. And of fucking course he wouldn’t be wearing a shirt.

YES....YESSSSS. I love when things like this happen in fics.

“Of course I’m going, Logan. Whether you think I’m good at it or not, it’s my job.” “It’s not that I don’t think you’re good at your job. It’s about experience—” You laugh, cutting him off. You can feel the telltale warmth of fire beginning to form beneath the tips of your fingers, your irritation threatening to bubble over. “Experience?” you exclaim. “Do I need to remind you that I’ve been with this team for three years now? Just because I’m not two hundred years old like you doesn’t mean that I don’t have experience.”

I'm always a big sucker for love-hate or relationships where the pairing isn't super fond of one another at first. The tension builds so well and I love how you incorporate the mutation with their emotions. Because fire is incredibly emotion-motivated, so these little hints are absolutely perfect.

You start to storm past him, to get away from him and go back to your room without another word, when he grabs you by the wrist. You look at him in bewilderment – this is the second time in the last twenty-four hours that he has held your hand in his. “Didn’t know you were so hot and bothered over me,” he says with an amused smirk.

This would actually make me so mad if I was already irritated 😭 Logan knows just how to get under her skin lmao

An eerie feeling creeps into your bones as soon as you step onto the hanger of the jet. You can’t deny that the scenery surrounding the military base is beautiful – from the snowcapped mountains to the frost covered lake, it’s picturesque. But then your gaze settles on the large dam, and you remember what lies beneath. “Can't say that I've missed this place,” Logan grunts, drawing your attention to him. His face is impassive other than his mouth being set in a hard, straight line as he stares out towards the water. It's rare for Logan to elicit feelings outside of burning irritation (and maybe, possibly, sometimes arousal) from you – but right now, there’s a part of you that wishes the dynamic between the two of you were different.

I really liked this bit. It begins to show more depth between the reader and Logan. I admire how you can subtly plant these little seeds throughout your fics, it makes them feel more immersive.

“You and Logan are to inspect the basement,” Charles answers. “I trust that you can refrain from melting any antique personal property until we are back at the mansion, my dear,” he adds with a knowing smirk. “I was planning on paying you back for that,” you mumble. “No,” Charles sighs. “You weren't. It was very expensive.”

You know, technically, she could harness the heat to make a new glass from scratch, Charles. I feel like he'd value something made like that. I can imagine the classrooms full of drawings by the children.

“I think I know what this is,” he murmurs. His stare is locked on one of the daggers strapped to your thigh. He squeezes your hand in his, though you don’t know if it’s to comfort you or himself. “I’ve heard of this before. Didn’t know it actually exists. I came across it once when preparing a lesson on Alkali Lake—” “What is it?” you implore. His eyes finally flicker back up to yours. Images of last night’s dream flash through your mind again. Instead of his hand holding yours, you visualize his slender fingers pumping inside you. You stare at his lips, imaging the feeling of them sucking love bites into the meat of your inner thighs – “It’s a chemical created for breeding experiments,” he answers after a pregnant pause. “They – Weapon X – wanted super mutants. Some of the subjects were… less than compliant. This made it so that they weren’t able to fight it.”

This situation is 100% believable. Things like this absolutely happen and you set it up perfectly. I love the approach and how you describe the fog, how it effects her body and makes her feel all the things at once.

“Besides, it’s not like you haven’t dreamed about this. Or were you moaning about someone else who just happens to have the same name as me last night?” Your eyes shoot open at the revelation that not only had you said his name in your sleep, but he’d fucking heard you. And has the nerve to tease you about it at a time like this.

Logan knows how to drive me insane holy shit.

He's smirking down at you. His smugness irritates you often, but right now it’s enough to cause the tips of your fingers to burn hot. You jerk his hand away from your face, causing him to hiss when your fingers wrap around his wrist. He chortles, his eyes rolling back in his head at the sensation. The reaction fills you with annoyance – of course he would have a fucking pain kink. As much as it pisses you off, it also spurs you on. Blame the influence of the chemicals that you’re currently under, but the fact that he can so easily tolerate and even enjoy something that would have anyone else running in the opposite direction does something to you.

I can literally see his expression rn.

He rips the fabric of your bra away from your breast, immediately attaching his mouth to your nipple. He rolls it between his tongue and teeth, causing you to arch your back into his touch. Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips, pinning yourself to the mattress with his body. You mewl at the feeling of your pebbled nipple in his warm mouth. His other hand attempts to free the opposite breast, but the fabric is too tight and restrictive. He let’s out an annoyed growl, pulling back to unsheathe his claws and snip the material in between your tits, letting them spill free.

This would drive me INSANE.

“You don’t want me to suck your dick?” You ask with raised brows. “S’not about me right now, bub. I said I was gonna take care of you, and that’s what I’m gonna do. Now lay back down for me.” You aren’t going to argue with that. You return to your original position on the mattress, pulling him down with you. He hovers above you, using one arm to support himself on the bed. He takes his cock in his free hand, stroking his length a few times before nudging his head through your folds until he’s lubricated in your juices. “Don’t you worry, though,” he murmurs against your lips. He teases his tip at your hole. “If you still wanna suck my dick when we get out of here, I'll let you.” “Oh, you’re so thoughtfu—” He sheaths himself inside you, turning the end of your retort into a gasp. He fills you entirely, stilling to allow both of you time to adjust to the sensation. The stretch is damn near blinding, making your eyes roll back into your skull. You glance down between your bodies, halfway expecting to see him jutting out of your stomach.

Girl you're literally killing me 😭😩

He pushes himself off the dresser, walking the few feet to where you perch at the edge of the mattress. He sits down beside you, his thigh brushing against yours. He smells of Old Spice deodorant and spearmint toothpaste, and it makes you the room spin around you.

The sliver of scent I can get from him ughhh that's such a good combo.

“I said something I didn’t entirely mean yesterday,” he whispers, out of breath. “What?” you ask, sitting upright and looking down at him. “You aren’t going to let me suck your dick?” “No,” he chuckles. “God, no. I meant that. If you still want to, that is—” “What is it, then?” you interrupt with a playful nudge to his chest. “I said you could go back to tolerating my existence. But I hope you wanna do a little bit more than just tolerate me.” You laugh under your breath, leaning down to press your lips to his once more. “I could see myself doing a little bit more than just tolerating you.”

LMAO this was so funny and such a good ending!! I loveeed this fic so much! It was so well done, just like all your other stuff! You did such a good job with the personification of everyone and I loved all the dialogue with reader and Logan.

Perfect, as always 💕

where the lines overlap

logan howlett x reader (dofp!logan x mutant!reader)

word count: 8.7k

summary: no one gets under your skin quite as much as logan howlett - and he knows it, too. sex pollen trope.

warnings/tags: 18+ only mdni, smut, sex pollen so dub con, frenemies to lovers? they aren't enemies but logan and reader don't really get along, reader is a mutant with pyrokinesis, reader is afab, reader is described as being smaller than logan, no use of y/n, wet dream, fuck or die situation, oral, pet names (bub, princess), brief pain kink for logan, unprotected p in v, cream pie

author's note: takes place after the events of days of future past - so everyone's alive, charles is old af, and logan has a pretty streak of silver in his hair. not proofread super well so please ignore any errors.

There's certain things that you like to think about when you're pissed off. It’s a coping mechanism that you learned in therapy at the ripe age of eleven.

Go to your happy place or whatever.

For you, that's the mansion's courtyard after a fresh snowfall, and having the library all to yourself on a rainy day, and the comfort of your bedroom on one of the rare days that you aren’t teaching, or training, or on a mission.

At this point in your life, you’ve forgotten just about everything you were taught in that therapist's office. It's not like you had wanted to be there, but your parents had been worried and scared – and rightfully so. With the unexpected emergence of your pyrokinetic abilities came multiple accidental house fires born out of preteen angst.

So they did the only thing they knew to do at the time – stick you in therapy in hopes you would acquire some anger management techniques.

These days, you have a pretty good handle on your powers. With a lot of time and effort, you learned to control them – and not just control them, but yield them in a beneficial and productive way.

All of that progress comes dangerously close to going out the window anytime you're in close proximity to Logan Howlett.

Maybe all is an exaggeration – but no one else makes your fingertips burn hot with fire that threatens to break through the barrier of your skin quite like him. From his bossiness to his arrogance and attitude, you’ve clashed heads since the first day you met him.

Today is no different.

“Don’t use so much force.”

You curse as the tip of the blade impales the target a whopping three inches from the center. By far your worst throw yet, though this one isn’t entirely your fault.

You snap your head towards the unexpected but familiar voice, pulling your last dagger from the holster secured around your thigh before chucking it in his general direction. It flies past him, bouncing off the wall behind him.

You knew that it wouldn’t actually hit him. And if by some miracle it had, he’d heal in two seconds and then go right back to being a pain in your ass.

A good looking pain in your ass, admittedly. But a pain in your ass nonetheless.

He looks at you with an amused expression. “See? Too much force.”

“I didn’t know that having giant forks for hands made you an expert on throwing knives.”

He exhales a breathy laugh, staring at you for several seconds before turning to pick the dagger up from the ground. He then proceeds to collect the rest of the knives that you had previously thrown from the body of the practice target.

In heavy silence, he struts over to you with the daggers in hand. He turns to face a wooden target board, finding the balance point of the knife before sending it flying through the air.

Bullseye.

“A long time ago, when I first joined this team, Charles made me practice a non-power related method of self-defense, too.” He pauses, lining the second dagger up with the practice dummy. To no surprise, it’s another perfect throw.

“Wanna guess what I chose?”

You snatch the remaining knife out of his hand.

“How to annoy someone by sneaking up on them and giving them unsolicited advice while they are minding their own business?”

You position your feet once again, holding the knife up in preparation to take aim. Your eyes dart back and forth between the blade and the target ahead of you. You hesitate, feeling nervous under his gaze.

Logan moves from standing beside you, to standing behind you. Your breath catches in your throat as his large figure looms over you. If he were to took a step forward, his chest would brush against your back.

He uses the tip of his boot to nudge your heel forward half an inch, adjusting your stance. He takes your right hand in his, and you have to consciously remind yourself to breathe.

A wave of annoyance washes over you that he’s able to fluster you so easily. It makes you as pissed at yourself as it does him. He’s barely touching you – his hand dwarfing yours is the only point of physical contact, but you’d think that he were pinning you up against a wall with his body.

You tell yourself the sudden light-headedness and increased heartrate is because of the newfound closeness, and nothing more. You’re used to being around Logan – the two of you live together and work together. His general presence is nothing new. But the intimacy of your current predicament is.

And maybe the fact that notes of tobacco and bourbon are infiltrating your senses doesn’t help.

He tightens his hold on your hand, and then snaps both of your wrists forward. Surprisingly, your brain registers to release your grip just in time. When the tip of the blade impales the center of the target perfectly, he drops your hand.

But he doesn’t move from behind you.

“Much better. Now come back upstairs. Charles needs to see all of us in his office.”

••••••

You and Logan are the last people to enter Charles’ office.

Storm, Scott, Jean, Marie, and Bobby have all found places to sit throughout the small room. Logan chooses to lean against the door that clicks shut behind him, while you exhale in relief at the sight of an empty chair on the opposite side of the room, next to Marie.

“Ah, how nice of you two to join us,” Charles greets. “I was starting to think that Logan got lost on his way to retrieve you.”

You force out a laugh, earning a side-eye from Marie as Charles launches back into whatever he had been in the middle of before you two interrupted.

“Everything okay?” Marie murmurs to you. “You looked a little sick when you walked in.”

“Oh, yeah,” you shrug her off without looking at her. You keep your eyes on Charles. “Yeah, I'm just tired. Been training all morning.”

What were you supposed to tell her? That you were thankful to be wearing a tactical suit so that Logan couldn’t see all of the goosebumps that bloomed across your skin when he was practically breathing down your neck less than five minutes ago? Or that the walk back up to Charles’ office was filled with a loaded silence in place of your usual bickering and banter?

Marie might be one of your closest friends, and you trust her, but Logan is something of a fatherly figure to her. There’s no way you’re letting her hear those words come from your mouth.

You try your hardest to focus on all of the information that Charles throws at you. You’re all to leave on a mission early tomorrow morning. When he explains where you’re going and why, chills run down your spine.

Alberta, Canada – more specifically, Alkali Lake. All of your friends seem to tense up at the mere mention of the place.

You dig your teeth into your lower lip, fighting the urge to sneak a glance to try to gauge Logan's reaction. You’ve never been to Alkali Lake before, and you’re far from excited about going – you can only imagine how he feels, given his history with the abandoned military base.

After no word of any activity surrounding the base for years, Charles had been made aware that the recent disappearance of a group of young adult humans had been traced back to Alkali Lake – to a modern day subsidiary of the group Weapon X.

The same group responsible for Logan’s skeleton being made from adamantium.

This, of course, is where all of you come in.

After a detailed rundown of the goals for tomorrow – the main one being safe extraction of the humans – Charles dismisses all of you to rest for the remainder of the day.

When everyone stands up, you finally risk glancing at Logan, but he’s already opening the door to Charles’ office and strutting away.

••••••

Thick stubble scratches your innermost thighs as sharp teeth and soft lips alternate between kissing and biting the sensitive flesh between your legs.

His face is covered in your slick from the three orgasms he’s already pulled from you with his tongue. He lays nestled between your legs, pinning you to the mattress beneath you. Your thighs rest across his shoulders, his hands splayed across your belly.

You're putty in his hands.

“I've gotta say, the sounds you make when you cum are way cuter than the sounds I'm used to hearing from you,” Logan muses against your cunt. His voice sends a vibration over your already overstimulated core.

You can only guess that the sounds he’s referring to are annoyed sighs and you telling him to shut the fuck up, but right now, you don't care enough to ask for any clarification.

“Yeah?” You yelp when his tongue flicks against your swollen clit. “Maybe if you spent less time pissing me off you’d get to—”

You're cut off by him plunging the tip of his index finger inside you. You writhe against him, your walls constricting around the digit.

“Less time pissing you off, more time letting you fuck my fingers and face. Got it.”

The slamming of a door somewhere outside of your room causes you to bolt upright in your bed.

You open your eyes to darkness except for the red glow of the numbers on your digital alarm clock that read 12:26 in the morning. Your heart feels as if it’s going to beat right out of your chest, and your skin is clammy with a thin layer of sweat. You throw your covers away from you in an attempt to cool yourself off.

“What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck—”

You whisper the three words to yourself over and over again until your breathing resumes a normal pattern.

You’re alone, of course. In the comfort of your private room, where you had fallen asleep several hours ago. The difference between now and then is an uncomfortable pool of wetness between your legs, soaking your underwear.

You can’t even recall the last time you had such a vivid sex dream. It felt utterly lifelike – you reach down between your legs, trailing your fingers over the skin of your inner thighs where you had felt his beard tickle and tease you.

How the fuck are you supposed to look him in the eye tomorrow, when you’re having to work together to rescue humans from Alkali Lake? How are you supposed to come up with smart-ass remarks for his endless taunting and teasing when you’re going to be trying your hardest to not replay the images of his hazel eyes looking up at from between your thighs?

“Get a fucking grip,” you whisper hiss to yourself.

It’s Logan. The same Logan who acted like he was too good to say more than ten words to you the first half a year that you were with the team. The same Logan that tries to get you benched for the dumbest, smallest reasons he can think of. The same Logan that condescendingly calls you kid or princess every chance he gets because he knows it gets under your skin.

You need a glass of water. And some fresh air, and a cold shower—

You start by picking up the pair of sweatpants that you’d discarded before falling asleep a few hours ago. You step back into them, deciding to trek to the kitchen for some ice water. Your mouth feels as dry as cotton.

As you approach the end of the hallway that leads from the team member's bedrooms to the kitchen, you hear the soft shuffling of footsteps and see low lighting that spills from the refrigerator.

As soon as you step into the kitchen, you come to a halt. You recognize the large frame standing in front of the open fridge right away.

Of fucking course it would be him. And of fucking course he wouldn’t be wearing a shirt.

You clear your throat to announce your presence, not quite trusting your voice to speak. He looks at you over his shoulder, a bottle of beer pressed to his lips.

You walk over to the cabinet beside him, keeping your eyes off of him entirely as you get a glass.

“What's got you awake at this hour?” He closes the fridge, leaning back against the edge of the countertop. The only light in the room now comes from the small, dim bulb above the sink.

If he only fucking knew, you think. If he only knew that the real reason you are out of bed right now is because you’d just woken up from an extremely graphic, jarring dream of you riding his face.

You fill the cup up with cold water from the kitchen sink and take a large swig before once again turning to face him.

“Could ask you the same thing,” you answer with a vague gesture to his half-dressed form and beer bottle.

He takes in your appearance, too. His eyes trail from your exposed feet, to your baggy sweatpants, and up to your even baggier t-shirt before settling on your face. You feel particularly vulnerable under his gaze right now. You compare how you look to how he looks – with his stupid abs that look like God himself chiseled them from stone and his sweatpants that hang just a little too comfortably.

You sip on your water just to keep from biting your lip.

“Guess we were both thirsty,” he shrugs as he takes another sip of his beer.

“Guess so,” you hum, and because you don’t want to fall into an awkward silence and it’s the only thing you can think to add, you say, “Nervous about the mission?”

His expression darkens and posture tenses at your question. “I am,” he admits. “And if you knew as much as I do about that place, you’d be nervous, too.”

You huff. Your grip tightens around the glass in your hand at the mere insinuation that he knows your feelings. “Who says that I’m not?”

“If you’re going, you’re not nervous enough.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. You take a deep breath, knowing damn well the direction that this conversation is headed. You’d heard it all from him before – anything to keep you as far away from him as possible.

“Of course I’m going, Logan. Whether you think I’m good at it or not, it’s my job.”

“It’s not that I don’t think you’re good at your job. It’s about experience—”

You laugh, cutting him off. You can feel the telltale warmth of fire beginning to form beneath the tips of your fingers, your irritation threatening to bubble over.

“Experience?” you exclaim. “Do I need to remind you that I’ve been with this team for three years now? Just because I’m not two hundred years old like you doesn’t mean that I don’t have experience.”

“I’m very aware of how long you’ve been with this team, bub,” he says calmly, which makes you all the more heated.

“For three years you’ve spewed every bullshit reason you can think of to keep me on the sidelines,” you laugh. “I wish you’d fucking admit that you just don’t like me. It’d be a lot more respectable than acting like you’re worried about—”

Logan’s gaze drops to the glass in your hand, making you come to an abrupt pause. You follow his stare, realizing that you’ve managed to melt the glass where your fingertips grip the glass. Water begins to leak out from the holes, spilling onto your sweatpants and the floor below you.

There’s no visible flames emanating from your fingertips. Your anger hadn’t progressed to full on fire, just intense heat, but still. No one else makes you come as close to losing control as him.

No one. And he seems to know it, too. You can tell by the smug look on his face.

You dump what little liquid is left into the sink before chucking the distorted glass into the garbage.

“Didn’t know you were so hot and bothered over me,” he says with an amused smirk.

You rip your hand away from him, an exaggerated look of disgust on your face. Your recent dream pops into your head and you have to remind yourself that he’s not Jean or Charles – he can’t read your mind.

“You're lucky that you've got those handy healing powers,” you spit as you once again begin exiting the kitchen. “If I thought there was a chance of it actually shutting you up, I’d burn more than just Charles’ vintage glassware.”

You hear him say your name, but you’re already speed walking back to your room and playing your list of happy place thoughts on a loop in your head.

The soup that Storm makes when everyone at the school seems to get sick at the same time. One of your younger students picking you a flower. The smell of fresh laundry, the crisp pages of a new book.

Finally, your bedroom door clicks shut behind you.

You would have been better off just enduring the discomfort of a dry throat, you think. You don't know what's worse – not being able to sleep because you're rattled from a wet dream about him, or not being able to sleep because you've once again allowed him to get under your skin.

You crawl back under your covers, hoping that when you close your eyes, you don't see his face again.

••••••

Logan doesn’t make any more appearances in your dreams for the rest of the night, but that doesn’t stop him from being the first thing you think of when you open your eyes in the morning.

And as much as you hate to admit it to yourself, the only thing on your mind the entire flight from New York to Alberta.

From the tension that filled the air when he corrected your knife throwing technique yesterday morning to the warmth of his calloused hand when he grabbed you by the wrist in the kitchen last night, you're fighting a losing battle with no one but yourself.

As far as you can tell, he’s utterly unaffected. The fact that he chose to sit directly in front of you on the jet instead of any of the other empty seats says as much.

Not even ten minutes into the flight, you're staring at the tufts of his hair and his broad shoulders when you have to remind yourself that there's two telepaths occupying this jet with you. Though you trust both Charles and Jean to not read your mind without cause, the mere possibility of either one of them accidentally tuning into your thoughts and seeing a replay of your most recent dream or hearing you think about what it would be like to tug on those stupid fucking tufts of hair that resemble kitten ears is enough to mortify you.

You find yourself grateful that you brought a book and headphones with you to distract yourself for the duration of the trip.

“Can't say that I've missed this place,” Logan grunts, drawing your attention to him. His face is impassive other than his mouth being set in a hard, straight line as he stares out towards the water.

It's rare for Logan to elicit feelings outside of burning irritation (and maybe, possibly, sometimes arousal) from you – but right now, there’s a part of you that wishes the dynamic between the two of you were different.

As much as he infuriates you, you still care about him. You wish you could say that you didn’t, but the fact that you feel the urge to reach out and give his hand a reassuring squeeze makes that pretty hard to deny.

That urge dissipates as quickly as it comes over you. The bitter chill of the mountain wind and your teammates voices pull you back to reality. You awkwardly fiddle with one of the daggers strapped to your thigh instead.

“Jean and Scott, the two of you take the west side of the building,” Charles instructs when the group nears the discreet entrance. “Bobby and Rogue, clear the east wing. Storm and I will be keeping watch outside to make sure that no one tries to escape with the humans.”

“What about us?” you ask with a slight nod towards Logan. The fact that neither of you had been given instructions yet leaves it to be assumed that you’ll be paired up together.

You and Logan working as a pair was nothing out of the ordinary, and although that typically comes with a lot of annoyance, right now you can’t help but feel a little relieved by it.

Even if you are still irritated at him for his behavior and choice of words in the kitchen last night and even if you do think of him between your thighs every time you look at him for more than five seconds, he’s still more familiar with this place than anyone else here.

And no matter how much he makes you want to tear your hair out, there's never a time that you feel unsafe when he's near.

“I was planning on paying you back for that,” you mumble.

“No,” Charles sighs. “You weren't. It was very expensive.”

Logan snorts, earning curious glances from everyone other than you and Charles. He does get a nasty side-eye from you – a silent promise to deliver on last night’s threat to find something to burn other than vintage glassware.

Your teammates split up into their respective groups upon entering the base, leaving you to follow Logan's lead towards the lower levels.

It’s unsettling just how silent it is. The only sounds are that of yours and Logan's boots against the ground. You'd be able to hear a pin drop from across the building.

And it's cold. The kind of cold that makes your bones ache. You instinctively flex your fingers, focusing on the warmth that radiates from the tips.

As the two of you make your way through the dark, seemingly endless basement, checking each room for signs of life, you can't help but think of Logan being here under much different circumstances.

You don't know the full extent of his time here – even he only remembers bits and pieces. But you know enough to know that this can’t be easy for him.

The fact that he's being uncharacteristically quiet only reaffirms that. He makes none of his typical taunts and jabs, only speaking when absolutely necessary.

You find yourself damn near wishing he’d make some snide comment about how you’re walking too loudly and how being partnered up with you feels like babysitting duty – if he did, maybe then you wouldn’t feel this annoying, persistent worry over his mental well-being.

“Logan,” you begin quietly as the two of you approach a large set of hospital style double doors at the end of a corridor. “I know being here can't be easy for you. I'm sorry that you have to be.”

He huffs a laugh under his breath, not meeting your eyes as he slowly pushes one of the doors open, peaking into the room before stepping inside and holding the door open for you.

“Just part of the job, bub,” he sighs. “I know what I signed up for.”

You enter, walking past him into the dark room. You shine your flashlight around the cramped space. Right away, you can tell that it’s vacant, as all of the other rooms you’ve checked have been. But it’s different – whereas most of the rooms have been completely empty, this one contains multiple twin sized beds. No frames, no pillows, just plain white sheets on each one.

“I know you do. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard.”

The door clicks shut behind him, and he shines his own flashlight around the room from right behind you.

“It’s okay, princess,” he snorts. “I’m a big boy. You don’t gotta pretend to be worried about me.”

Princess. Your fingertips tingle as soon as the pet name leaves his lips.

“I’m not pretend—”

The sudden, loud clicking of a deadbolt echoes through the room, silencing you. You and Logan stare at each other for a brief moment, startled and confused, before he turns around and pushes on the double doors to no avail.

He slams the full weight of his body against the metal, but it doesn't budge.

“What the fuck,” he growls in between repeated strikes against the doors.

“Logan and I are locked in a room in the basement,” you say as you click on the communication device in your left ear. “The door automatically locked after we came inside. We can’t get it open—”

You’re met with white noise.

“My fucking comm isn’t working.” Panic begins to set in as you yank the device out of your ear to inspect it. There’s a small green light indicating that it is on, but for whatever reason, it isn’t getting signal.

“Scott? Storm? Can anyone hear us?” Logan says as he messes with his own communication device. “Nothing,” he grunts after a moment of silence.

“Professor? Jean? If either of you are listening, now would be a great time to poke around in our brains and let us know.”

Nothing indeed.

“Okay,” Logan says as he backs away from the double doors. “Blast them.”

“Blast them?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “They’re industrial metal doors. They’re like two feet thick. These walls are made out of concrete.” You bang your first against the rock solid wall for emphasis. “What the fuck do you think fire is—”

“I don’t hear you suggesting anything!”

“How about not setting the room we are trapped in on fire? Only one of us has regenerative—”

A loud hissing noise sounds from above, causing you and Logan to both point your flashlights up towards the ceiling. You squint, trying to make sense of what you’re seeing. Large vents make up well over fifty percent of the ceiling, releasing what appears to be a fog like substance. It quickly transforms the air above you into one large, milky looking cloud.

“Charles! Storm! Scott – we need help. Quickly, we need help. I don’t know what’s going—”

You continue to shout into the communication device while Logan alternates between punching the door with his fists and throwing the full weight of his body against the metal, but all of your efforts are futile. The doors don’t budge, and you hear nothing but static from the comm.

You frantically glance around the room, looking for another escape route. There’s no other doors, and no windows. You’re completely enclosed by the four concrete walls and the impenetrable metal doors.

“Hold your breath!” Logan shouts as the fog descends upon the two of you, but it’s too late. The sickeningly sweet smelling mist encompasses you, making it impossible to see anything other than the thick silver vapor. It infiltrates your nostrils, causing you to gag. You cough, desperately trying to clear your airway of the substance.

It burns – your throat, your nostrils, your eyes and skin. Anywhere that it comes in contact with you feels like pins and needles.

You’re vaguely aware that Logan is somewhere to your left, asking if you’re okay in-between coughs and gags of his own. You can’t catch your breath well enough to answer him.

His hand clasps around the top of your arm. Your vision goes fuzzy and you collapse into him, light-headed from the profuse coughing.

“I think it’s dissipating,” Logan whispers in a strained voice, still supporting you so that you don’t fall to the floor. You risk cracking your eyes open the slightest bit, and realize that he’s right. There’s still a veil of mist surrounding you, but it’s no longer so opaque that you can’t see even two inches in front of your face.

You take deep breaths, making no effort to step away from him as you attempt to regain control of your breathing. Your lungs feel like they are on fire and your throat feels like you haven’t had any water in days.

“What the fuck was that?” Your voice comes out as a croak.

“Can you stand?” he asks you. You nod, reluctantly pulling away from his embrace.

As soon as he steps away from you to see if the doors are still locked, the momentary relief that you felt when the fog began to dissipate is replaced with renewed terror. The room, which was previously dark except for the light from your flashlights, suddenly glows a deep red color from the ceiling that now emits crimson fluorescence.

You open your mouth to call out for Charles or Jean again, when a throbbing sensation radiates throughout your gut. You clutch your hands over your abdomen, gasping at the sudden and awkward feeling.

Logan turns his attention away from the doors and back to you as soon as he notices how you’re hunched over. You stumble over to the bed that's closest to you, the world blurring around you in shades of red.

“Something is wrong,” you gasp out. You know you're stating the obvious – something has been wrong since the moment that the doors locked behind you.

He's next to you in two long strides, kneeling beside the bed and looking up at you in concern. The ache in your lower belly seems to worsen with his close proximity. Your skin feels feverish, making you want to peel your tactical suit off of your body.

“Tell me what you're feeling,” he demands. Other than obvious confusion and fear, he appears physically fine. You piece together that whatever that shit was, it’s effecting you much differently than it is him – undoubtedly due to his healing abilities.

You can't form a coherent sentence – all you can focus on is the way that the discomfort in your abdomen travels down to your groin, making you clench your thighs together. You have the inexplicable desire to reach out and pull him to you, as if having him as close as possible to you is the only solution for every uncomfortable thing happening to you.

“You gotta talk to me, bub. Tell me what’s going on,” he says when you don’t answer him. He puts a hand just above your knee and you have to hold back the whimper that threatens to break through your lips. He notices your pained expression and quickly withdraws his hand from your thigh.

“No!” you gasp, grabbing his hand in yours out of desperation to maintain some level of physical contact with him. “I – I don't know how to explain what’s happening. Just – I just need you to keep touching me. Please. Whatever that fog was, it’s making me feel like…”

You trail off, realizing that you must sound every bit as insane as you feel. You don’t know how to begin articulating what’s happening to you, because it makes no sense. When the silver mist first started to rain down from the ceiling, the last thing on your mind was Logan pinning you to one of these mattresses and railing you until you until you see stars. Now, you think that if he so much as stops holding your hand, you'll fucking die.

A look of clarity washes over Logan’s face – with a hint of something else that you can't quite pinpoint, too.

“I’ve heard of this before. Didn’t know it actually exists. I came across it once when preparing a lesson on Alkali Lake—”

“What is it?” you implore.

His eyes finally flicker back up to yours. Images of last night’s dream flash through your mind again. Instead of his hand holding yours, you visualize his slender fingers pumping inside you. You stare at his lips, imaging the feeling of them sucking love bites into the meat of your inner thighs –

“It’s a chemical created for breeding experiments,” he answers after a pregnant pause. “They – Weapon X – wanted super mutants. Some of the subjects were… less than compliant. This made it so that they weren’t able to fight it.”

You let his words sink in. It’s not something you’ve ever heard of, but you don’t doubt that what he’s saying is true. How could you, with the way that your pussy is throbbing at the mere sound of his voice? Under normal circumstances, you might not read too far into that. But right now? On a mission, locked in a creepy basement, unable to get in contact with your teammates?

“Weren’t able to fight it,” you repeat slowly. “You're saying there’s only one way out of this.”

He doesn’t answer – just looks at you with sympathy. With pity.

“No,” you shake your head. You yank your hand from his grasp and move back across the mattress as the gravity of the situation hits you. To distance yourself from him feels like ripping air out of your own lungs, but the alternative is borderline unthinkable.

“I can’t – won’t ask that of you,” you declare. There’s a voice in the back of your mind that laughs at you, as if saying it’s cute that you think you have a choice. The pain and longing grow with each passing second, threatening to consume you from the inside out.

“You’re fine. It would be different if it was both of us. But you shouldn’t have to do this just because you're stuck here with me.”

“Have to? You make it sound like it would be a punishment for me,” he chuckles darkly. He finally rises from where he had been kneeling next to the bed. He stands beside the mattress, looming over you in the maroon lighting.

“Let’s not overcomplicate this, princess,” he murmurs. He grasps your face in his palm and tilts your head to look up at him. His touch is a balm – it feels like running a burn under a cold stream of water.

“I'm gonna take care of you, and then you can go right back to tolerating my existence.” He runs the calloused pad of his thumb over the swell of your bottom lip. Your eyes flutter shut, reveling in the sensation of the singular digit against your flesh.

“Besides, it’s not like you haven’t dreamed about this. Or were you moaning about someone else who just happens to have the same name as me last night?”

Your eyes shoot open at the revelation that not only had you said his name in your sleep, but he’d fucking heard you. And has the nerve to tease you about it at a time like this.

He chortles, his eyes rolling back in his head at the sensation. The reaction fills you with annoyance – of course he would have a fucking pain kink.

As much as it pisses you off, it also spurs you on. Blame the influence of the chemicals that you’re currently under, but the fact that he can so easily tolerate and even enjoy something that would have anyone else running in the opposite direction does something to you.

You’re past the point of finding it in you to care about consequences. You’re no longer thinking about how you’ll be able to look him in the eye when this is over, or how you’ll pretend like everything is perfectly normal when the two of you are back on the jet with your teammates.

Maybe you can fight this drug, or maybe he’s right and there’s no point in trying. Either way, you’ve decided that you're going to have him before you leave this room.

You drop his hand, bringing yours to the zipper at the neckline of your tactical suit. You slowly tug it downwards, gauging his expression as he watches you expose your chest and stomach.

For once, he’s all out of smart remarks.

A part of you feels a sense of satisfaction and wants to continue taking your time with undressing yourself, just to keep him looking at you like this – but every fiber of your being is screaming at you for more.

You waste no more time with shoving the restrictive Kevlar material down your arms, leaving you in only your bra from the waist up. Logan unfreezes at the sight, crawling onto the bed on his knees. You maneuver yourself so that you’re laying flat against the mattress, pulling him down with you.

His other hand attempts to free the opposite breast, but the fabric is too tight and restrictive. He let’s out an annoyed growl, pulling back to unsheathe his claws and snip the material in between your tits, letting them spill free.

“Hey! I loved that bra—”

Your complaint dies in your throat when he slates his lips over yours.

There’s nothing slow or sensual about the way that he kisses you. He slips his tongue past your lips, moving his lips with fervency and urgency – like he needs this as badly as you do.

You buck your hips up into him, desperate for any amount of friction. He grinds down against you, his erection evident even through the thick material of both of your tactical suits.

He pulls back, breaking the kiss to unzip your suit the rest of the way down. He peels it down your thighs, only stopping to discard your boots. When you’re left in only your underwear, he looks at you with a satisfied smirk.

“So, what exactly was I doing in your dream to have you saying my name like that, huh?” he asks as he toys with the waistband of your panties.

You roll your eyes, your patience growing thinner as the ache in your belly grows stronger. He can tease you about that all he wants when you’re back in the safety of the mansion, when you’re no longer under the influence of potentially life threatening chemicals and capable of thinking of a proper comeback.

“Shut up and eat me out.”

His smirk only grows, but he doesn’t tease you any further. He tugs your panties down your legs, tossing them to the floor. He lowers himself onto his stomach, still fully dressed. Under less dire circumstances, you would’ve been eager to get him out of his clothes, too – but right now, your highest priority is feeling his mouth on you.

No wet dream could have prepared you for how euphoric it actually feels for his teeth to nip at the tender flesh of your inner thighs, or the way that his tongue draws lazy circles at your hole before his lips lock around your clit.

You writhe against him, chasing the release that you’ve been desperate for since the second the vapor first came in contact with your skin. He’s more than generous, expertly nursing at your swollen bud as he eases a slender finger inside your cunt.

One finger – that’s all it takes to feel your climax building, the coil in your lower belly tightening. You feel your walls pulse around the digit as your orgasm washes over you. You don’t even try to hold back your cries and praises of pleasure, letting him know how good he’s making you feel.

When he sits back, his lips and beard glisten with your slick in the red glow that encases you both. You push yourself into a sitting position and reach for the zipper of his suit, antsy to shed his clothing now that your physical discomfort had been quelled – at least for the time being.

He helps you, shrugging out of his vest and tugging his undershirt over his head. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him. You’ve seen him shirtless before, but never shirtless for you. You want to dig your nails into the planes of his chest, and run your tongue along the protruding vein that disappears beyond the waistline of his pants –

You undo his belt buckle and pop open the button of his pants before hastily yanking both his pants and boxers down in one movement. His cock springs free, bobbing inches before your face. You start to adjust your position on the bed – to get on your knees and take him in your mouth – when a low chuckle causes you to pause and look up at him.

“Nuh-uh,” he tuts, earning a confused pout from you.

“You don’t want me to suck your dick?” You ask with raised brows.

“S’not about me right now, bub. I said I was gonna take care of you, and that’s what I’m gonna do. Now lay back down for me.”

You aren’t going to argue with that.

You return to your original position on the mattress, pulling him down with you. He hovers above you, using one arm to support himself on the bed. He takes his cock in his free hand, stroking his length a few times before nudging his head through your folds until he’s lubricated in your juices.

“Don’t you worry, though,” he murmurs against your lips. He teases his tip at your hole. “If you still wanna suck my dick when we get out of here, I'll let you.”

“Oh, you’re so thoughtfu—”

He sheaths himself inside you, turning the end of your retort into a gasp. He fills you entirely, stilling to allow both of you time to adjust to the sensation. The stretch is damn near blinding, making your eyes roll back into your skull. You glance down between your bodies, halfway expecting to see him jutting out of your stomach.

He fucks you similarly to how he kisses you – like this is saving him as much as it is you. It's rough, and fast, and messy – and you dread the moment that it’s over.

No one has ever filled you as completely and perfectly as him. You don’t think anyone else ever will, again.

Each drag of his cock along your walls has you clenching around him, each time his head rams against your cervix you can’t help but cry his name.

He snakes his hand in between you, reaching down to where his body collides with yours. His thumb massages over your sensitive clit.

You rake your nails down his back and he hisses in approval, snapping his hips into you at a brutal pace.

“Fuckin’ ruinin’ me for anyone else, princess,” he grunts before kissing you again.

You don't have time to overthink the sentiment before your second orgasm is washing over you. Logan cums as soon as he feels your pussy pulsating around him, fucking you until he's spilled every last drop of his warm seed deep inside you. When you're both finished, he stills inside you and rests his sweat-slicked forehead against yours as he catches his breath.

“You think it worked?” he grunts.

As if on cue, you hear the deadbolt unlock from the other side of the room. A second later, Storm’s voice sounds from your communication device that had fallen to the floor at some point.

“I don't feel like there’s a ticking time bomb inside my vagina anymore. So, I’d say yeah, it worked.”

He huffs a laugh, and then pulls out of you with a sigh.

“Logan,” you say, stopping him before he can pull away from you entirely. He stares down at you, waiting for you to continue.

You aren’t even sure what to say. Truthfully, you just weren’t ready for the moment to end and for things to go back to normal between the two of you.

“Thank you,” you spit out after a moment of loaded silence. “For… helping me,” you finish lamely.

“Don’t thank me, bub,” he chuckles. “It’s far from the worst thing that's happened to me in this place.”

••••••

You sleep the entire flight back to New York.

And as soon as you've showered and your head hits the pillow after returning home to the mansion, you sleep for another ten hours. Every time you wake up and think that you're finally well-rested, your body says otherwise and you're asleep again within minutes.

You wish you could say it’s a dreamless sleep, but that would be a lie. You see Logan’s face every time you close your eyes.

But it's different than the last dream you had of him. It isn’t images of his head between your thighs or his fingers slipping in and out of you.

It’s just.. him. His presence. The lingering feeling of his lips on yours, the light flavor of tobacco and menthol.

And the echo of the words he spoke as he teased you with the head of his cock and made you cum around his length.

“Don’t you worry, though. If you still wanna suck my dick when we get out of here, I’ll let you.”

“Fuckin’ ruinin’ me for anyone else, princess.”

When you wake, the ache between your thighs for him remains, despite the fact that the effects of the drugs had long since faded.

You know you shouldn’t read too far into words spoken while the two of you were locked in that room. But you can’t help but keep thinking that he wasn’t under the influence of chemical subjugation. Which leaves you questioning if he meant the things he said, or if he was just trying to lighten a scary, impossible situation for both of you.

You suppose there’s only one way to find out.

When you finally gather the courage the knock on his door, the sun has set and everyone has retired to their bedrooms for the evening.

You almost dash back into your own room during the few seconds that it takes him to open his door. He wears sweatpants, a plain black t-shirt, and a surprised expression.

“Hey, bub,” he greets you apprehensively. You don't normally make a habit of stopping by his room for late night chats. “Was starting to worry that you’d fallen into a coma.”

He opens his door wider, motioning with his head for you to come inside.

“Felt like it,” you give a small laugh. “Whatever was in that shit wore me out.” You take a seat on the edge of his bed, nervously wringing your hands together.

“You feeling better now?” he asks as he leans against his dresser, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes trail over the large muscles of his chest and shoulders. The memory of his body caging you to the twin sized mattress in the basement of the bunker flashes through your mind.

You nod, hoping that it’s convincing.

“All things considered,” you shrug. “I just wanted to check in with you. Has Charles… said anything?”

What you're actually trying to ask is if Charles interrogated him about where the two of you were during the mission, why no one was able to contact either of you, and why you have been so exhausted that you've done nothing but sleep for the last day, but you trust that he knows what you mean.

“He hasn’t said anything, but..” he trails off, eyes darting around the room to avoid your gaze. “It’s Charles. Safe to assume he knows and is just being decent by not saying anything.”

“Right,” you murmur.

If he doesn’t already know, it's only a matter of time before you slip up and imagine the feeling of his lips on yours or the sounds of his moans in the middle of a mission debriefing.

“And the humans..? They’re all okay?”

“They are,” he assures you with a soft smile. “They’re all receiving medical attention, and most have been reunited with their loved ones.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. “No thanks to us, I guess.”

“No,” he laughs. “I suppose not.”

“But everyone’s okay. They’re safe. And you’re safe. That’s what matters.”

You nod, not trusting your voice to speak. He’s close enough that you can practically feel the heat from his body. You risk looking at his face, your gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips.

“Yeah,” you finally agree. “You’re right. Well, I’ll let you get some rest. I just wanted to check in with—”

You start to stand up, when he cups your jaw in his hand and pulls your face to his. He’s hesitant in a way that he wasn’t yesterday – he gives you the opportunity to pull away before he sweeps his tongue across your bottom lip, as if asking for permission.

When you don’t give any kind of indication that you want him to stop, he pulls you flush against him and slips his tongue past your lips. You bring your hand to the back of his neck, twining your fingers through his hair.

He takes his time with you. Whereas yesterday’s kisses were filled with urgency and desperation, todays is tender and sensual. Now, you’re allowed the luxury of taking your time.

He lays down against the mattress, pulling you with him. You straddle his stomach, your lips never once breaking contact. His hands grip the globes of your ass, his fingers digging into the meat through your pajama pants.

You grind against the hard planes of his abdomen, earning a throaty growl from him.

He breaks away, nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“I said something I didn’t entirely mean yesterday,” he whispers, out of breath.

“What?” you ask, sitting upright and looking down at him. “You aren’t going to let me suck your dick?”

“No,” he chuckles. “God, no. I meant that. If you still want to, that is—”

“What is it, then?” you interrupt with a playful nudge to his chest.

“I said you could go back to tolerating my existence. But I hope you wanna do a little bit more than just tolerate me.”

You laugh under your breath, leaning down to press your lips to his once more.

“I could see myself doing a little bit more than just tolerating you.”

oooops i accidentally wrote another fic where logan overhears something that he wasn't supposed to 😅🫠 did not originally plan for that to happen hahaha

check out some of my other logan fics -

by the end of the night

dog tags drabble

#fic rec #flowersforbucky

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