#in a desperate attempt to win people back over

[totallyxtaurus]

Depollute me, gentle angel

Summary: Sylus is away on a business trip while you sink deeper into your depressive episode. Pairing: Sylus x gn reader Genre: Angst (I guess, I'm not sure lol) Trigger Warnings: depression, mental health struggles, anxiety, self-neglect, and hints of suicide A/N: Soo I was going to make a fluffy/smutty story but my PMDD hit me hard af and then BOOM, this. This was super hard yet easy to write at the same time probably because it's a self insert lol like this is literally me. Sylus' "perfect" persona does intimidate me and I grappled with the thoughts of "what if Sylus was real, could he actually handle this?" I hope everyone enjoys and please please please remember to take care of yourselves! 💗

When was the last time you crawled out of bed today? Your stomach twisting, hunger pangs turn into nausea. But the thought of forcing your limbs to carry you into the kitchen for food feels insufferable. So, you stay buried in the tangle of unmade, unwashed sheets. A hint of fabric softener desperately clinging to the fibers, the stale scent of sweat and skin already taking over. Earlier, you pressed your nose into your shoulder, checking. The sweet floral deodorant from days ago (you think) has spoiled into something sour.  

Each day and sleepless night blend together. They become hard to tell apart, except when the phone rings. Work is calling again—probably to ask when you’ll be back in or to terminate you. You know you should care—you do care! Well, you used to. You liked your job; you were good at it. But does it bring you joy? Right now, does anything?

Everything feels like a chore that you can’t be bothered to attempt. Showering? The thought alone is exhausting. But thinking about the steps that come before the shower is enough to make you sit in your own filth. You reach up absently. Your fingers get lost in the greasy roots and tangle in the mess below. Dandruff flakes dust your pillow. You picked at your scalp while scrolling for hours. Anything to pull you out of this pit you’ve fallen into, for a moment of relief. Your stomach churns each time your tongue touches the slimy coating that has built up on your teeth. Panic spikes at the thought of cavities—the decay, a reminder of neglect. Yet, there you lie, paralyzed by your own anxieties. God, you want to move. You really do. But then you tell yourself, I’ll brush them after I eat, for sure. You know it’s a lie. But it makes the guilt easier to swallow.  

These bouts come and go, pulled in by a force you can’t escape—because you are the force. Like the moon dragging in the tides, summoning waves too strong to withstand. When you’re up, you trick yourself into thinking that you have it all together, like you’ve cracked some secret code. You throw yourself into work, into people, an endless loop on performance mode. Blissfully numb. Until the crash. The tide swells too high, knocking you under and swallowing you whole. Then you’re here, again. Bedridden. Isolated. Time slips through your fingers. Days, weeks—who knows how long. Until someone notices your absence. Usually, him. Then you have to explain why you vanished and begin to collect the pieces of you that have washed back ashore.

“You should trust Sylus more," your therapist had said, voice gentle but firm. “Let him in during these episodes. He wants to help you.”  

You nodded, pretending to consider it, not missing the way they emphasized the "want to help you" part. But the idea was absurd, laughable. Let Sylus see you like this? No, it’s better this way. You can keep your dignity and him, a win-win situation.

This episode—as your therapist calls it—came at the perfect time. Sylus is away on a business trip, conveniently absent when you’ve sunk to your lowest. He gives you roughly three days of no contact before the constant calls start rolling in. This time, luck was on your side, a twisted kind of luck, but still one that was to your advantage. You can’t even begin to imagine the horror that he’d feel if he saw you like this.

Undeserving. That’s the only word that comes to mind when you think of Sylus, especially in moments like these.

Sylus, the man who has everything—and if he doesn’t, he simply acquires it. Always composed, always in control. He’s the kind of person who seems to glide through life, untouchable. You can’t imagine him unraveling, not like this. No, if he ever stumbled, he’d just power through it. There are no obstacles he can’t overcome.  

Until you.

You are the only thing he can’t fix. A threat to the pristine world he’s built. Thankfully, he hasn’t seen you like this, and he never will. He can’t.

Your therapist says your way of thinking is the problem. You don’t let him in. You don’t give him a chance to understand. Your therapist doesn’t know Sylus like you do. What if he does understand—but secretly believes you’re too much? And knowing Sylus, what if he doesn’t leave, but worse—stays out of obligation? Out of pity?

Your chest begins to tighten at the thought, your heartbeat picking up. You’d rather disappear completely than let him see you like this.

But before you can spiral any further, the doorbell rings.

[ilium-ilia]

In Limbo

simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader | mafia!au | masterlist

Chapter Fifteen: worthless sacrifices

tw: panic attacks, grief

“C’mon sweetheart. Stay with me, baby.” 

It’s the alleyway all over again. Reality slips right through your fingers faster than water or sand. It spills at your feet and soaks into the floor and the heels of your shoes as Simon’s hands hold you steady. You can’t feel his warmth, but you feel the pressure of his grip against your shoulders. You can’t breathe. You’re trying to; desperately, your diaphragm contracts viciously over and over again, yet it makes no difference. Head spinning, mind reeling, you’re trapped in your apartment with your eyes glued to the floor, now ruined by some malevolent intruder. 

You’re spiraling faster than you can handle. Marco’s letter rests in a half crumpled mess in the clutch of your fist, but the curve of his handwriting still haunts you. It lays just behind your eyelids, scarring your retinas until all that’s left of your vision is his warning. You’re up against that wall again. Back against the cold surface with his hand up your skirt and a corpse at your feet. Just like always, you fawn. Never strong enough to fight back. Always smart enough to know there’s never a chance that you’d win. 

Simon’s fingers wiggle through your palm, coaxing the stiff digits to unfurl as he takes the letter out of your grasp. He doesn’t read it on purpose, but he sees the fractured glances of what he needs to. The late fee. The letter M—M for Marco. He tosses it haphazardly to the side where it joins the rest of the mess at your feet. 

“Chip. C’mon sweetheart, talk to me,” he presses. It’s difficult to keep his tone even as wary eyes flitter around the apartment. The blinds are drawn shut, but he knows you’re far from safe. Prying eyes lurk everywhere, and Marco always likes to poke his nose where it doesn’t belong. Every muscle in his body screams for him to drag you out of that room and bring you to safety, but he bites back that thought as his hands gently rise to cup your cheeks. “Listen to me. Listen to me, baby. You’re okay.” 

If you hear any of his comfort, it doesn’t do much. Wide, dilated eyes stare through him as your chest heaves with your breathing. It rattles along your windpipe like screaming iron as the air expels from your lungs too quickly to make any use of the oxygen. His thumbs swipe along your cheeks, briny wetness coating his skin, and he ensures you can’t look anywhere else besides him. 

“Look at me.” His plea prods something in the back of your mind, and you finally force your eyes to focus on him. Your bottom lip quivers as your hands reach up to rest on his chest as you steady the weight that throttles your body. “You’re okay.” 

Muscles seizing, you shake your head as your fingers curl around the fabric of his shirt. “No. No, you don’t understand. You don’t understand what he’ll do to me.” 

“Nothing’s gonna happen to you,” Simon attempts to rationalize. His comfort falls on deaf ears as you continue to shake your head and knock your fists against his chest as if you’re attempting to wiggle out of his grasp. “I’ve gotta get you out of here. Breathe, sweetheart. I’ll get ya somewhere safe.” 

“Nowhere is safe!” you wail. Any further attempts you make at wiggling away is quickly thwarted by his grip on your face—loving, but firm. You’d fall to your knees if it wasn’t for his strength. “I can’t get you mixed up in this, Simon. I can’t. Can’t call the police. Can’t do anything. I just- I don’t know! I don’t know what to do! I just- I don’t wanna lose you, too. I can’t keep- keep doing this. I can’t keep losing people. I can’t lose you, I’m so-so fucking tired of this. Simon, please, I don’t know what to do!” 

Your prattling only makes your fear sear through your veins until you’re sobbing. It’s unforgiving. Nothing but white hot metal that doesn’t care where the damage ends or begins. It doesn’t care where the scar forms; where the skin adheres. He tries to soothe the ache, but it’s everywhere. How can he allay a pain when it’s ingrained in every strand of DNA that creates you? When it’s all you’ve ever been composed of? 

“Alright. Alright, no police. Nothing. Just me and you, yeah? I’ll take you to my place. It’ll be safe,” Simon explains. He’s walking backwards, attempting to slowly coax your body into following him. “We need time to work this out, but we can’t do that here.” 

“I-I can’t let you do that,” you babble. 

“We don’t have time to argue,” Simon huffs. He’s getting frustrated. Anxious. He doesn’t like being here in the midst of this chaos. This mess Marco—and whoever the fuck else—left for you. He needs to get you someplace safe and hidden—someplace Marco can’t hurt you. “Please baby. I wanna help you. Let me help you.” 

You freeze at his plea. Suddenly, that searing hot pain doesn’t seem nearly as bad as the echo of an old ghost begins to rattle your brain. Your hyperventilation quells and dies down until it’s nothing but a set of pathetic hiccups and sniffles. 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you eventually nod. “Okay,” you breathe. “Okay…”

As you swallow back a sob, you hope this time is different—lest this deja vu kill you. 

Breathing doesn’t come easy. With each intersection Simon drives through, your hands clench until the tips of your nails leave crescent moons in your palms. You look at each vehicle you pass by with agita. You scrutinize every detail of the drivers, searching for any terrible familiar face. Nothing jumps out at you, but you refuse to trust anything; anyone. You have never been safe in this city. All it has is sharp, rusty teeth and hands that refuse to let go even after your breathing has stopped. You’ve been trying to scrub off its fingerprints your entire life, and all you have to show for it is raw skin. 

A rippling scream tears through your muscles as Simon’s fingers brush against the back of your hand. Jumping, you look at him with wild eyes. His solicitude is obvious. It etches deep into the thin line of his lips as he stares at the road ahead. Thick fingers wiggle between yours until your hand is enveloped by his. He’s much warmer than you are—running off pure anger and frustration—and you try not to grimace at the way your sweat rubs off on his skin. Feeling your gaze on him, he glances at you from the corner of his eyes before giving you a firm squeeze. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he assures. It’s all he’s been saying since he found the door to your apartment kicked in. “We’ll figure this out. Promise.” 

By some miracle, you make it off the streets alive. Simon doesn’t let go of your hand until he’s pulling into the garage nestled beside his house. The neighborhood is quiet. Pushed to the edge of the city, the houses are spread far and sparse with trees for coverage and large yards perfect for rambunctious animals or squealing children. His house stands proud and tall with personable red brick and pristine white paneling. It reminds you of the area John and Aelin live in, albeit a bit less extravagant. Perfect for small families wanting to get out of the city. 

You didn’t think working security at a club would make someone that much. 

Simon doesn’t exit the car until the garage door closes, and he quickly retrieves your bag from the backseat before helping you out of your seat. You stare at the object in his hand. Right now, your entire life is in there. It’s only a handful of clothes and some personal hygiene items; you didn’t exactly have time to pack anything besides what was already in there from the holiday. It’s just like when you were a kid—running from foster home to foster home, living out of suitcases until you were able to be saved by John and Aelin. Everything always comes back somehow. Cycling over and over again, forcing you to relive the things you can never seem to outrun. 

Feeling your trepidation, Simon takes your hand again before bringing you into the house. Like Orpheus leading Eurydice out of the underworld, it feels like you’re stepping into a different dimension. Breathing comes easier, and warmth envelops you as he sits you in the living room. 

Dazed, you glance around. Everything is blurred—just out of focus—too anxious to properly take things in. You can make out the cushioning beneath you and the dark stained coffee table that separates you from the wide screen TV. Tools and metal parts to some sort of machine lay scattered along the table, something Simon apologizes for in a hushed chuckle. Abrasive cleaning solvent hangs in the air, but it’s too stale to burn your nose. 

“Here.” Simon settles next to you and you feel the cushions shift beneath his weight. He holds a glass of water for you to take, and for a moment, you’re transported to the night Andrei cornered you. You recall how you woke up in the conversation pit of one of the VIP rooms in Terminus, and how Simon’s first instinct always seems to be to nurture you. Protect you. “You should drink.” 

As you raise the glass to your lips, your emotions quietly quell and cocainize. Fear still attempts to rear its ugly head as it rips through your thoughts, biting through anything comforting until it’s ruined just like everything else. Cold water crashes over your tongue, fighting off the pertinacious snot that haunts your mouth from your sobs. It doesn’t make you feel any better, but you see the way Simon’s shoulders melt with each gulp, so you do it anyway. When you’re finished, he takes it from you and sets it among the mess of metal tools and parts on the coffee table before bringing his full focus to you. 

Elbows resting on his knees, his hands fiddle with one another like he wants to reach for you again—to hold you until either hell freezes over or the pain ends—but he doesn’t. Sniffling, you stare at the floor in front of you, arms wrapped around yourself. You can hear the thoughts in his head before they even manifest into words from his mouth. 

“Tell me everything,” he says. 

“You’re not going to believe any of it,” you say. It’s supposed to be humorous; a joke. Something to take off the edge of your worries, but it comes out flat and fighting. You don’t want to tell him. You’re tired of reliving this nightmare. 

“I’ve seen a lotta crazy shit, sweetheart. Doubt this can be any worse,” Simon coaxes. He shifts and the weight echoes through the couch. It forces the cushions to dip and your body to go with it, pulled toward the gravity of him. “That note? It mentioned something ‘bout a late fee. Do you owe someone money?” 

Solemnly, you nod. 

“How much?” 

You swallow. “Three hundred thousand.” 

Not even Simon can hide his surprise. It’s an absurd number. Something that would only be owed to a bank for a house loan, not a person or organization. It’s significantly more than what his brother owed, and the confusion settles bone deep in his body. 

“How much have you paid off?” he asks.

“That’s not how this works,” you mutter. 

Simon’s question contorts on his face well before it leaves his mouth. You see it in the shift of his body in your periphery. It’s a precarious situation—keeping this secret the way you have; for as long as you have. It’s been decomposing inside of you, filling you with noxious gas that builds and builds. You feel the pressure. The way it tears at the seams of your body. You try to keep it bottled up—under tight lock and key—but when you finally gain the courage to look at him, you know you’ve already lost. 

“This is my dad’s debt,” you begin. “He worked for a man named Vladimir Makarov. He’s not… a good person. He works in organized crime groups. The mafia. That sort of stuff. I guess my dad messed up badly on some sort of job and got himself killed, costing them a good chuck of cash. Since he was too dead to pay them back, they sent a man named Marco to try and pressure my mum into paying, and when she wouldn’t, he killed her. Then, it was my turn.” 

Your voice cracks like a log being consumed by fire, and it burns just as bad. Keeping this noisome secret buried deep inside of you hurts just as bad coming back up as it did when it was first shoved down your throat. But Simon doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t grimace or wince. He stays firm as he listens, leaning closer as if ready to catch you when you fall. 

“Marco… didn’t give me much of a choice. I didn’t know what to do, so I said I’d pay it because I was terrified of what would happen if I didn’t. He threatened me, telling me I shouldn’t tell the cops, so when they arrived, I didn’t. Not even through their questioning. None of it. I was alone. I had lost my dad, my mum… everything.” 

There are certain things you leave out. Things you don’t think you’ll ever be able to say even if you whispered it into some void that wouldn’t echo a single word. If you told him about what Marco did to you—about how his hands defiled you the way they did—would Simon still look at you the same? With what you’re so desperately hoping is love? Would he think it would be worth it—loving something tainted? 

Too afraid to find out, you choke back the memory before continuing. 

“I had no family. None that would want me, anyway. Sean Gilroy, Aelin’s dad, took me in. He was the Chief Investigator working the case of my parent’s deaths. He housed me, along with her mum. I think… I think they were used to taking in fosters. It’s… really fitting of them to do so. But he was too smart. Sniffed out that something more was going on, and I just- I just broke and told him everything. 

“He tried taking me to the police station to get a proper report, but we got into an accident on the way there. Some car t-boned us in an intersection. It was planned. It had to have been, because when I came to, fucking Makarov was there. Sean was stabbed and- fuck, they must have been tapping his calls or something, because they took some sort of chip out of his phone before leaving, a-and he was on the phone with someone while we were driving. O-Or maybe I’m just wishing that’s the case because… fuck, Simon, I got him killed. I told him even though Marco warned me and he’s dead. I-I killed Aelin’s dad and she doesn’t even know. The coroner said he died from injuries related to the accident and they all fucking believed it and I’m the only one who knows the truth. I’m a fucking liar, and- and I hate myself so much for it-”

Everything begins to spin and you’re at the epicenter of the destruction. It’s too fast. Unrelenting centripetal force rips you apart cell by cell. You fall into Simon just as he reaches for you. Face buried into his chest, he holds you with firm hands on your waist and head as your tears soak into the cotton of his shirt. Right now, he’s the only thing keeping you together. The only thing attempting to mend the cracks rapidly splitting you apart. Kissing the top of your head, he mutters quiet assurances to you as your shoulders jolt and heave with your cries. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispers. “It’s gonna be alright.” 

“I’m not naive enough to believe that,” you sob. “This isn’t a debt I can truly pay off. They’re not gonna stop when I hit three hundred thousand, I know that. That’s not how this works. I can’t get out of this, Simon. Even if I give them all the money in the world, they’re still gonna follow me. Marco terrifies me so much a-and I know he’s not gonna let me go that easily.” 

There’s a heavy silence that breaks with each sob that racks your body, and instead of shushing you or whispering useless comforts, Simon just holds you. It’s firm and unwavering just like the steady thud of his heart against your cheek. He keeps you there, tucked beneath his arm. You think he’ll keep you here until the world begins to crumble, and then long after it’s withered to dust. He breathes slow and deep, rib cage expanding against your own until you’re in rhythm with him. Even. He’s the only flicker of solace you’ve been able to taste in ages. 

It takes time for you to swallow the steady stream of spit that plagues your mouth, and you choke back the snot rummaging through your sinuses. You’ve been reduced into nothing but a babbling child—always a child. Something weak and small. Clever enough to think you can slip out of this mess, yet never brave nor smart enough to complete it. 

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle. Your well has run dry. Any evidence of your tears now lays soaked into the fabric of Simon’s shirt, heavy and thick as it sticks to his skin. “I… I shouldn’t have told you about this. Now I’ve dragged you into this too. This is dangerous shit. So many people I’ve cared about have died already, I… I shouldn’t have let myself get close to you. You don’t want to be around someone like me.” 

“I’m not leavin’ you.” Simon’s response is quick. It bursts free from his mouth like a secret he never even dreamed of keeping. Arms tensing, his hold on you only grows stronger. 

“Simon, I don’t think you understand,” you breathe. A plea bubbles up in your throat, half prepared and bitterly sour. “The only person I ever told about this died because of me, and I-I can’t stand that happening to you, too. You… you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone. You can’t tell anyone. If you even try to do anything about this, you-you’re just gonna end up like Aelin’s dad, and I don’t think I could handle that. Please, Simon. Promise me.” 

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, baby. I handled that scuffle with Andrei fine, I’ll handle anyone else who tries to lay a fuckin’ finger on you. I’m not lettin’ you do this alone,” he promises. 

Something shifts. There’s a change in reality. A thickening of the air so palpable that Simon nearly suffocates on it. He feels the way your breathing halts—he yearns to feel that subtle rhythm return against his chest—and his heart stutters. It begins to shred itself cell by cell. Aorta crushing in on itself, shattering all valves and cusps. 

Your movement is slow. Practiced and careful. You raise your head off of his chest and despite his better judgement, he lets you. Simon watches you carefully as you look up at him. He doesn’t like what he sees. There’s a heavy frost obscuring your gaze. Your lips tighten together and your brows furrow as if you’ve found yourself caught in the den of some beast—

—like you’re face to face with a monster. 

“That… man in the alley… I never told you his name.” 

This is where the facade slips—where the mask shatters and Simon is left with nothing but the horrid truth he tries to hide. It’s easy to lie. Might as well be second nature to him at this point. An expert storyteller, omission of truth is just as easy to spew at you as the unadulterated version itself, and still, he hesitates. Simon thinks that—maybe if only for a moment—that you deserve the whole story. Something not shrouded in a thick umbra. 

But it’s this deliberation that has your mind swirling in an inescapable tempest. You think of the worst—you think of Makarov. 

When you fully retract from Simon, he lets you go, and it burns. It’s as if your flesh had been ripped from his, and now he holds nothing but a wound. The look you give him hurts worse. Those wide, dilating eyes; lips parted as if ready to draw the breath to scream. 

“How do you know Andrei?” you demand with a waver in your tone. 

“I didn’t know him until I caught him in the alley. I swear it. I couldn’t let the bastard get away, not after what he did to you, so I figured out who he was pretty quick after that night,” Simon answers truthfully. “Had Johnny’s help, of course.” 

“Do you know how dangerous that is? How dangerous Andrei is?” you snap. Frayed nerves, exhausted adrenals—you’re at your limit. You’re standing at the very edge of what you can take. “He works with Makarov! With Marco!”

“I don’t care how dangerous it is, sweetheart, I’ve dealt with worse.” His fingers flex. They miss your warmth. He doesn’t know what to do with himself, so he rests his hands on his knees. 

“This isn’t a joke, Simon, this is the fucking mafia, you can’t just-” 

“There’s more than just Makarov’s syndicate.” 

There’s not enough air in the room. It’s siphoned away from you, forced elsewhere, someplace of better use where you can’t continue to waste it. He’s insinuating something you’re not sure you want to uncover the meaning of, but your heart and body already know the answer. It trembles at the thought that this man who can hold you so tenderly could be capable of the same violence inflicted upon you by others. 

“What do you mean?” 

You need to hear him say it. 

“I’m not like Marco or Andrei, I’m not like any of ‘em,” he assures, “but I work for Price, and the Price family has been in this business much longer than Makarov has.” 

You open your mouth to call him out on his mendacity, but no words flow forward. His words rattle around in your mind, and still no matter how many times they echo off your skull, you can’t get them to make sense. It’s wrong. Contradicting everything you ever knew about your friends—about the only family that you have left. 

“You’re lying,” you breathe as you shake your head. 

“I’d never lie to you,” he swears. 

“No, I know John and Aelin. For fucks sake, I lived with them. They’re not like that. John isn’t like that, he’d never hurt people like- like the way Marco does.” 

A canyon forms between the two of you, and the divide only grows wider. Simon watches the way you retreat, curling away from him like his very presence forces you to wilt before you’ve even bloomed. 

“Price is a good man, but that doesn’t allow him to run away from his family legacy. Trust me, if he had a choice, he would have nothin’ to do with it. He was forced into this bloody business, and despite its reputation, he’s done a lot of good with it. One of the only reasons why I joined was because of him. Because he gave me the opportunity to do something good,” Simon attempts to explain. “Terminus is a front for the business. It’s how he keeps an eye on things. Keeps people in the neighborhood safe. This isn’t like the movies with bullshit senseless killings, sweetheart. There are rules and traditions to uphold.” 

“This doesn’t make sense,” you sputter. “So John just… just runs this mafia and you’re… fine with being a part of it? You really expect me to believe this?” 

“Why do you think I’m so good at fighting? Think I picked that up at Terminus? From tossin’ rowdy cunts out on the streets when they got too handsy? You think Mrs. Price asked me to keep an eye on you just because I work for John? That she’d ask some fuckin’ bouncer to protect you? Nuh uh. You think anyone would just have the resources to hunt down information about Andrei? A bastard who covers his tracks better than the goddamn American CIA? I told ya, I wouldn’t lie to you. I’m tellin’ you this because you're safe with me. You don’t have just my protection, but John’s, and everyone else who works for him.” 

“And Aelin? She just…?” you gesture with your hands, sharp and jolty. 

“She’s fully aware of everything.” 

That incessant ringing returns to terrorize your tattered hearing, and you can do nothing but sit and let it wash over you. There’s a culmination of confusion and betrayal that ferments and addles the raw neurons in your brain. The pressure builds and strains until your hand clasps over your mouth to obscure the smile on your face. It tears across your lips like a wound. 

Then, you laugh. It’s not light. Far from sweet. Razor blades slice through your throat as your titter sputters out like a dying engine. Burying your face in your hands, you rub at your eyes as if you can erase this reality away and jump into the next one. 

“So… you mean to tell me that the whole reason I kept quiet… what I was doing to keep them all safe… It doesn’t even matter because they’ve been in this mess the whole fucking time anyway?” you bite. 

The irony is bitter. It burns worse than bile on your tongue. Your entire reality lies in shards at your feet, and a bilious tingle gnaws at the back of your neck. Conflicting emotions throttle one another in your chest cavity, and you can feel your vision begin to tunnel. Questioning everything, your hands fall from your eyes and you stare at Simon. He’s steady, tight lipped and wary. 

Can you really still trust him? 

“They wanted to keep you safe. They didn’t wanna drag you into that type of life. John’s got strict rules ‘bout that,” Simon attempts to rationalize. 

“Safe? A lot of fucking good that does me.” Adrenaline peaks in your system and you feel the muscles in your legs contract. They’re telling you to flee. Run far away from this issue and never return, and you just about listen to it. 

Shooting up to your feet, your hand clasps over your mouth. This is too much to process. You have so many questions swirling in your mind, none of which you can fully articulate. You’re at the precipice of shutting down for good. “I need… I need time to think about this.” 

Simon mirrors your movements, and he’s on his feet within an instant. He studies you; scrutinizes every flicker of emotion that crosses your face. Careful hands extend as if ready to capture you—ready to keep you close where you’re safe in his arms—but he doesn’t make any movement besides nodding. 

“Of course. This is a lot, I know, and I’m sorry sweetheart. But I’m here, yeah? Not gonna let anythin’ happen to you. I meant what I said ‘bout keepin’ you safe.” 

The thick pads of his fingers ghost against the side of your arm as he steps forward. He needs to swaddle you. Wrap you in his arms. It’s all selfish. It’s all for himself, but he just needs to know he’s not about to scare you off for good. That he hasn’t lost you. 

Both his fingers and his heart stop when you flinch at his touch. 

“I think I need to be alone right now,” you say flatly as your shoulder retracts from him. 

For a moment, the only thing Simon can do is stare. Arms wrapped around your torso, eyes reddened from irritating tears—it doesn’t feel right. None of this does. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as his jaw flexes, thick muscles dancing through his cheeks. When his teeth crush the tender flesh inside of his mouth, he can nearly taste his own blood. It’s nothing but sour iron. His hand falls away from you where it rests at his side, but his fingers still twitch. They still miss your warmth. 

Eventually, even though it feels like it kills him, Simon nods. “Whatever you need, sweetheart.”

follow @mother-ilia to be notified of updates | get early access to chapters here

[area51-escapee]

“A little progress is better than none!!! Vote blue anyways <3!!!!!” I’m going to start beating these people with a baseball bat I swear to god

[prncssguya]

on hwang in-ho/front man, seong gi-hun and their dynamic.

first, idk why people are getting so upset at other people calling gi-hun dumb, we were told that in the first season. lol being bright is not his strongest trait but he has a good heart and we love that about him. however, he is still an idealistic gullible idiot with a gambling problem. except this time his gambling addiction is backed by a sense of justice and righteousness and he no longer gambles with money, he’s gambling with people’s lives. front man asked a good question at the end of the season, “did you have fun playing the hero?” can we even call gi-hun the hero of the story anymore? he gambled with people’s lives and front man showed him the consequences of his moral heroics.

front man only agreed to help gi-hun with his revolution when he mentioned about "small sacrifices for the greater good". i think he reveled in the fact that the “good guy” was willing to allow a few innocent people to die for the greater good to stop the games, which is exactly what the entire VIP theory is to rid the world of 'trash' to improve the world. notice how gi-hun's moral code and belief also changed, from being "nobody should die" into "yeah small sacrifice is okay as long it's for the greater good" at this point, he just proved that front man's belief is actually valid. AND he gets more of his own people killed in the pointless battle with the soldiers that they had no chance of winning. now he gets to feel responsible for all those deaths and the death of his friend and for whatever additional torture they cook up in the next games (as punishment for the escape attempt).

now on hwang in-ho, i believe he was once a good man and the story he told gi-hun was the truth. but in the end he lost a kidney, lost a wife, a baby, lost his money, got fucked over by the wrong people and got into serious debt and had to play this game to help his wife and probably it was too late to save her. he might have played the games like gi-hun but saw how ruthless and greedy people are and resolved that they don't deserve help

i don’t think in-ho wants/will kill gi-hun, but he wants him to understand things from his perspective and show him that his compassion for the people in the games is foolish. you can tell the frontmen (the old man and in-ho) are extremely fond of gi hun. not only did he protect their original front man when nobody else did, he then won the games and thus their respect as he is now as rich as them. he's no longer "trash", he’s an elite like them. i think they both actually kept tabs on him after he won (i wonder if they do that for all winners? inserting them with gps chips?) because they knew he had not used his reward money and in-ho wanted gi-hun to get on the plane and be happy with his daughter

there’s one interesting aspect of the games that makes front man such a complex character. the fact that they’re operating a organ transplant trafficking network. in a way, he’s creating some good to come from a really fucked up situation. but is it really for the good of others who desperately need it, people like his wife, like his brother? or is it just a money making scheme?

either way, i don’t think there is going to be a redemption arc for in-ho, he’s too far gone. we may get to see more of his human side if he manages to see jun-ho again. the only time we’ve seen genuine emotions from him was when he shot his brother like he seemed distraught

the real cliffhanger for me, is will gi-hun stay true to his belief that people can be good, or will he be forever changed into a villain and become the next front man…? after the events of this season i don’t see how his will doesn’t shatter. he’s witnessed how humanity consistently chose money over survival, he’s lost two close friends, his mother, abandoned his daughter. he has gained nothing from wanting to stop the games and this clearly feels like an origin story for the next front man. it’s clear the front man has won this round and i think squid game will either die with 001 or continue with gi-hun as game master

another thing i find funny that i don’t see many mention is how gi-hun is like the luckiest guy in the fucking world. but i don’t think him being alive this long is plot armor, it makes sense. the games exist for the entertainment of rich sadists who have so much money they don't know what to do with it (remember what old 001 said in s1 about life being no fun for both people with no money and people with too much money). and i’d imagine killing hundreds of poor debt-ridden fools year after year gets boring. especially when said fools are desperate enough to gamble with their lives because they think they can beat the system by playing better than everyone else and surviving and getting the money.

gihun is different because he got the money, got out, and still came back. not because he's unfeeling or because he wants more money, but because he's still convinced he can beat the system.

if you're a rich bored gazillionaire, would you rather watch some randos die or would you rather watch this exceptional idiot fail again and again until he learns that his ideals are meaningless and people are inherently greedy and equality is a myth and people at the bottom of the barrel don't get to question the system?

if you're an asshole gazillionaire, you don't want someone to challenge you and just get away with it. you want to hand them 45.6 billion won and make them go away quietly, traumatized, after breaking them psychologically by making them do horrible things until they understand they're just powerless "horses". if they insist on challenging you and your system and your beliefs (money = boundless power), you teach them a lesson and show them their place in the most manipulative and cruel way possible. if gihun dies right away, that's boring. so he can't die, he needs to suffer. he needs to concede defeat.

also, i find it funny how people are comparing hwang inho and gihun dynamic to hannibal and will graham. makes sense, their whole cat and mouse game, front man hiding his true nature from gi-hun the same way hannibal does, trying to corrupt the righteous protagonist, sowing chaos, testing him and observing his behavior like a lab rat, the crazy tension and staring contests, the gaslighting and manipulation. and with the fact that they think lee byung-hun looks like mads mikkelsen. i never put the two of them together but now i can’t unsee it lol

[littlemissmiller]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑮𝒊𝒓𝒍 𝑵𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝑫𝒐𝒐𝒓

Pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

Summary: (au) (Joel is dad to a 9 year old Sarah) Joel has been your neighbor for some time and you and him have become friendly. In an attempt to spend more time to him (and a desire to show off your summer body) you throw a pool party…

Warning: 21+ (drinking), smut, fluff, friends to lovers, use of nicknames (babydoll, baby, darling), p in v, ass eating, cowgirl style, fingering, couch sex, porn with a plot

Work count: 4.1k

A/N: hi all! the official first day of summer is today and i got inspired by a pool party i went to with my mans so i just had to write this cute lil smutty, fluffy story. i have a billy request coming and hopefully i get ch 3 of Summer Highs out soon (i know i said it would be soon don’t trust me on a release date which is why i don’t do them) ok that’s it! much love and enjoy ❣︎

───────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────────

It’s always a hot summer in Texas. It would feel weird if it wasn’t, but this year it feels like the earth is a legit bun in the oven. The whole neighborhood is feeling the heat, so given you have a pool in your backyard, you invite people over for a summer kickoff. Of course it has nothing to do with the fact you are desperate to see Joel Miller in nothing but a pair of swim trunks. From just his work shirts alone, you could see how tight his shirt hugged his muscles. How toned his back was whenever he would sweat through it doing yard work. You would always wave over to him from across the street, occasionally bring him water or lemonade while he worked. And today, your excuse for seeing him was to invite him to your pool party. You catch him outside after work, in his garage tinkering around under his truck. You stroll across the street and walk in. You knock on the side of the garage walls and Joel slides out from under his Silverado.

“Well hey there!” He beams, striding towards you

“What’s up cowboy.”

“Not much, waiting for Sarah to come home from soccer camp.” He informs

“Oh keeping her busy.”

“Well between so and the library reading contest she’s more or less keeping herself busy. Determined to get those Astro tickets. I promised we would do a road trip and she reaches thirty books by the end of June and wins the two tickets. She’s already at twenty five. She has a whole strategy.”

“Wow. Good for her. Well I hope she’s not too busy this weekend…” you state

“Oh yeah why’s that” he smiles, leaning his arm against the garage and above your head. You feel totally lost here with him looking at you how he is. His big brown eyes, so curious and pleasant, simply wondering what you have to say. He raises his eyebrows in anticipation.

“Well I sent out an evite a little bit ago, but I wanted to come tell you in person that I’m having a pool party Saturday. I thought we could all beat the heat ya know.”

“Yeah we‘ll be free.” He steps back, taking a rag from his waist and wiping his hands. He heads toward his garage fridge and gets out two bottles of water, offering you one.

“Thanks. So you do have your own water.”

“Yeah I always keep that fridge full. Especially with Sarah and her friends I practically always got Gatorade.”

“So you just like my water better?”

Joel smiles at you, combing his hair with his fingers. You watch his muscles flex and wish that you can be wrapped in them. He starts to look through his tool box and nods.

“You could say that. So Saturday you said? What time?”

“It starts at 12, but you can stay for as long as you’d like.”

“I’ll talk to Sarah, but I have a feeling she'll say yes. She loves you, so any excuse to see you, she’ll take.”

“I’m sure.”

“We’ll see ya Saturday then.” He winks and disappears back under his truck

You waltz out of the garage and back to your house. You trot inside gleefully and close the door behind you. You could jump, squeal, practically combust. Not only did you just figure out Joel had his own drinks on deck whenever he works, but always accepts an offer from you no matter what. God he must like you. He must. You hope you're not thinking too much into it but, you couldn’t help but think when he said “She loves you, so any excuse to see you, she’ll take…” he really was talking about himself. You bite your lip and roll your eyes. You want him so badly. So bad you feel like you are going to explode. You lean your head back against the door and sigh.

Saturday comes around soon enough, and you spend the whole evening and next morning preparing for the day. You clean your house, chop lettuce, tomatoes and onions for burgers, cut up a watermelon and make a macaroni salad. Even though you hadn’t explicitly asked for his help, you had a feeling Joel would want to help grill and you’d gladly take it. You prepare a cooler with a few beers and some water and put it in your garage fridge. Next you set up the pool area. You lay the cushions on the pool chairs, unwind the umbrellas and set out a few pool noodles. Everything looks perfect and your first guests start arriving around 12:08. More and more people arrive and at around 1:30, you finally see Joel and Sarah pulling up. He walks in with his own cooler and a swim bag. He approaches you while Sarah runs off to the other neighborhood kids.

“Well hey cowboy! Glad you could make it.”

“Yeah sorry we are late. Work called last minute and I had to help them order some more flooring for our site.”

“No worries. But these people are getting hungry and maybe you could help grill. I hate to put you to work…”

“Ain’t no trouble darling.”

“Ok I’m going to change. The patties are already formed, just in the fridge.”

Joel follows you inside and heads into your kitchen, poking his head in the fridge. You walk upstairs to your bedroom and change into your swimsuit. You had gone out that week and picked out a new suit. It was white, a two piece, the edge frilled, and it shaped your figure so well. You spin around and admire how it sits on your ass. The back had a cheeky build, and totally gave the viewer an idea of how your cute little ass looks. Not to mention the way it rides up, exposing your cheeks slightly, it’s perfect and you can’t wait for Joel to see you in it. You put your jean shorts back on and find one of your white, open-knit, pool coverup and a red, and a worn USA baseball cap. You pull your ponytail through the loop of your hat and spin around one last time.

Rushing down the stairs, only to find Joel already outside starting the grill. You sigh in disappointment. You take a beer from your fridge and try to open in on your own. Then Joel walks back inside. Even though your back is turned to him, he can tell you are struggling.

“Need help?”

You jump and turn around, your tits bouncing slightly as you turn, which Joel notices. He also seems slightly speechless as you turn to face him. His sentence cut off, face frozen, as if you stole the words from his mouth.

“Uh yeah, thanks.” You hand him the bottle and he takes it, uncapping it like it’s nothing. He hands it back to you and you take a swig.

“Oh hey so because I was so outta sorts getting out the door, I totally forgot to get sunscreen. You got any, Sarah is itching to get in the pool.”

“Of course” you run back up to your bathroom, find a 50 SPF bottle and head back down stairs. Joel calls out to his daughter and she comes rushing inside. At the sight of your face she enthusiastically calls your name and rushes towards you. You hold her in your arms.

“Hey sunshine!”

“We brought brownies!” She proclaims

“Oh did your dad make them?”

“Mhmm. Well he helped, I really was the baker!” She insists

Joel lets out a playful chuckle and rolls his eyes in amusement.

“Yeah, especially with all those eggshells you had to fish out?”

“At least I know how to preheat the oven.” She claps back

Joel smirks and then looks at you. He has always appreciated how loving and kind you are to Sarah. He appreciates knowing that when she’s with you, she’s in more than good hands. And you adored her as well.

“Hey! let her get that sunscreen on ya.”

“I’m fine! I’ll stay in the shade!” Sarah protests but before she can scurry off you’re already squirting it into your hand, applying it to her shoulders.

“You know you don’t have to listen to him. I thought you’re supposed to be the fun one!” She whines, and you smear her face. She scrunches it up in displeasure.

“I am the fun one. This is called fun in the sun, sunshine.”

She groans and pulls her face away.

“You know I think I saw a bomb pop with your name on it out in the garage fridge, if you can still hang in there for one more second.” You promise. “Ok there. Top shelf in the garage. Bring a few for the other kids. Ok?”

“Yes!” She states firmly and rushes off into the garage

“She just loves to keep ya busy…”

“Tell me about it.” Joel rolls his eyes “you uh…you look nice…” he swallows nervously

“Thanks, it’s new. I got it for today actually.”

“Oh really. Trying to impress someone?” He asks

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You quip back, smirking “how’s those burgers coming along”

“Grills still heating up, this is really nice of ya to invite everyone. Sarah hasn’t really had much pool time with soccer.”

“Well you two are invited over anytime.”

“Appreciate the offer. What else do you need for these burgers?”

“Here” you state, turning to the fridge and opening it.

You grab the toppings, cheese, and condiments and follow him outside. As Joel grills, you make your way around, chatting with your fellow neighbors. Eventually you get in the pool with a playful “go on sugar, I’ll holler at ya when they are ready” from Joel. As you strip off your top and shorts, Joel checks you out from across the pool. He can’t help but let his eyes linger on the curves of your body, the way your bikini bottoms hug your ass, and how nice and perky your boobs sit on your chest.

You notice him checking you out, your own eyes hidden behind your sunglasses. You try not to look so much, but with his back to you, it’s easier to admire his broad shoulders. And you have to admit, Joel is absolutely radiating domesticity. You could easily get used to this sight. Sarah splashes around you, pretending to be a mermaid looking for pearls and you throw sinking rings for her to dive for. Joel catches you playing with Sarah, and smiles. The smell of hamburger meat fills the air and Joel calls to you. You throw some more rings in to keep Sarah occupied and head out of the pool.

“How are these, little lady?” Joel asks as you approach

“Fantastic! Let’s put cheese on half of them.”

“You got it!”

People start to gather for food and you help Sarah dry off and get her a plate.

“Cheese or no cheese baby?” Joel asks Sarah as she approaches the grill

“Cheeeese!” She smiles, showing off her big smile to her dad

“What about you doll?” He asks you

“Same as her.”

After you eat, you wait a while to get back in the pool. You lay out with a few of the girls from the neighborhood Wine Club. As you chat, Joel admires the way the sun glimmers off your body. With most of the food served, Joel joins his daughter in the pool. You watch as he takes off his shirt, gawking over his bare chest. His shoulders cut into his neck so sharp and clean and you can help but want to feel how strong he is. And You smirk to yourself, happy to finally see him exactly how you wanted to. And he looks damn good in his turquoise-green trunks.

“I’ll be right back…” you excuse yourself, striding over to Joel, swaying your hips

“Can I get you a drink? I’m getting another beer, and maybe one of those brownies I heard about.”

“Oh I want one!” Sarah exclaims

“If you get out you’re getting more sunscreen on ya babe..” Joel promises

“She can bring me one and I can eat in the pool!”

“No, no baby. C’mon.” He argues, lifting Sarah out of the pool and onto the pavement.

“Awww!” Sarah whines, swinging her arms and legs.

You hold her hand and take her to the food, you grab a towel, wrap her in it and get her a small plate. You place a brownie on it and hand it to her.

“Can I have two?” She bats her eyes

“Go ask your daddy…”

She waddles over to Joel, squatting down to ask him. He rolls his eyes and nods and she trots back to you.

“He said I can!”

As the afternoon turns into evening, more and more people head back to their homes and pretty soon the sun is setting. You start to clean up, picking up plates and empty bottles and taking them inside the house.

The last few neighbors pop in to thank you and say goodbye and behind them is Joel.

“Hey…need some help?” Joel asks you

“Oh you’ve done more than enough. Y’all headed out?”

“I uh...sent Sarah home with the Adler��s. They said they’d watch her for the evening until I got back.“

“Oh! Well I would have loved to say goodbye to her.” You frown

“I bet she would have too, but she passed out on my knee even with everyone running around. Danny wanted to get his Ma home anyways…” he explains

He walks up to the kitchen counter and places a few empty beer bottles down. You smile and thank him. He helps bring in a few more bottles and follows you around with a trash bag as you pick up plates and plastic silverware. After everything is cleaned up and the pool is closed up, you and Joel head inside.

“Well I don’t wanna keep you from Sarah much longer.”

“It’s ok, unless that’s your way of kindly kicking me out, then by all means I’ll head out.” He smirks

“No no, you can stay if you like…”

“You sure?”

You nod and he closes the sliding door leading out to the pool, locking it.

“I don’t have much beer left, but you seem like a whiskey guy to me.” You imply

“I sure do.”

You pour him a glass and he leans over your counter. He smiles and he holds the glass to his lips and sips.

“I really appreciate ya Joel.”

“It’s no trouble.”

There is a brief moment of silence as you take a sip of your whiskey and gaze into his big brown eyes. You can’t help but feel he’s looking at you in the same way. A wave of desire washes over you and just as you're about to speak, possibly trying to make a move, Joel strides over to you.

“Ya know if ya ever need my help, I’ll always be willing. Whatever you need…”

“You’re too sweet Joel, I feel like I need to make it up to you.”

“Maybe you can, baby…” the words slip from his lips and steal your breath away. You gasp and move in closer to him.

“I’m sorry, can I call you baby?”

You nod wordlessly.

“Yeah? Well then baby, kiss me…”

You lean up, cupping his face and pressing his lips against your own. He holds your face in return, rubbing his thumbs against your cheeks and moaning into your mouth. Your hands move to cup his neck as you move your face, deepening the kiss. Joel clutches your jaw, pulling you closer and raising you onto your tippy toes. You chuckle against him. This is finally happening. You’re finally kissing the man you’ve dreamed of. Ever since him and Sarah moved in, you have wanted him. It was no secret. Perhaps that’s why the Adler’s offered to watch Sarah. To give you this moment. And you’re ever so thankful.

Joel’s calloused palms move to your waist, slowly trailing down your body, feeling the sides of your bare skin. You hadn’t bothered putting your swim shirt back on after the pool and you were grateful. You welcome his fingers and let out a girlish giggle, his feather light touch overwhelming.

“How late do you wanna stay?”

Joel checks his watch. It’s 8:10.

“I told the Adlers I would be back by 9 so I mean…is that enough time for you…”

“I’ll take whatever you give me.” You smile against his face, kissing his cheek.

With that he returns his mouth to your own and he moves to cup under your shorts. He squeezes your ass and moves his hands under your thighs. In one swift motion he picks you up and is moving you both to your couch. You and him stumble into it and he sits down with you on his lap. You gasp and pull back.

“Ok that was fucking hot Miller, my god could you get any sexier.”

“You know what’s sexy…” he implies, pulling on the front of your bikini top, snapping the strap

“You like it?”

“You look like an absolute snack in this thing darling. And your ass, fuck I couldn’t stop looking at it by the pool.” he pants

“Glad you noticed. I was trying to impress you if you didn’t pick up on that when I told you.”

“Oh I did, and it worked. It definitely worked.” He sighs, sealing his words with another searing kiss.

You rock against him as his mouth moves with yours. You simply can’t get enough of him like this and he desperately wants to devour you. His hands wrap around your back, pulling you flush against his chest. He moves to squeeze your ass again, fingers dancing underneath your jeans. He grabs and gropes you, causing you to whine and whimper into his mouth.

“I love those pretty little noises you make, baby. I can’t wait to hear what other noises you make for me.” He whispers

He pulls at the hem of your jeans, tugging on them until they slide down your ass. You stand up, pulling them down your smooth legs. He starts rubbing the back of your thighs, moving his hands up and down and settling them underneath the cheek of your ass. He pulls your waist close to his face, your pelvis practically grinding up against his nose and lips. You delicately place your hands on his shoulders as he admires you.

“Let me see that cute little ass of yours again, babydoll”

Then suddenly you are spun around and he grips the strings of your bikini bottoms slowly pulling them down. As he does, he kisses the bear skin that’s being revealed to him until his lips are consuming your ass. You let out a sigh, arching your back slightly as his mouth finds your core. He dives in, placing his hands on the meat of your ass and nuzzling into your cheeks. His soft lips began to kiss your folds, and you buck up against his face. He growls against you, groping your cheeks and diving in to taste you. His mouth and tongue finds your clit and he begins to lap at it. He’s so hungry for you. So desperate to drink up your juices like a sweet nectar. Your legs quiver slightly and Joel notices. He wraps his hands around the front of your thighs, steadying you , while simultaneously pulling you closer to his mouth. He pulls back quickly, replacing his mouth with his fingers. He rubs the sensitive bundle of nerves feverishly, cooing as you moan and whine.

“Tastes so good. So fucking good baby.” He whispers.

He mouths at your pussy, his saliva mixing with your juices, making you so wet. You’re throbbing into his mouth and he places a few chase kisses to your cunt, before pulling away. He takes his shirt off and tosses it aside. He gives your core a few more open mouth kisses then spins you around once more, and you take off your top. You slowly pull the dainty string, letting your bikini top fall off you and onto his lap. He moans, clutching the top in his hand. You move to straddle him and he tosses the top on the ground.

Before you can put your weight on him, he bucks his hips, taking his trunks off. His cock springs forward and he takes his incredible length in his hand. He slowly pumps himself and you lower your ass onto his thighs. You don’t quite sink into him yet, wanting to appreciate this moment with him. He cups your ass and you clasp the back of his neck. He leans forward to press feather light kisses along your jaw and neck. Then his actions get more aggressive as he starts to manipulate your breasts. You mewl and arch into him. Your entire body starts to slowly rock against his, teasing him with your wet core on his cock.

“Fuck I want you. I can feel ya. So wet.”

You nod, biting your lip and Joel loves his hand down in between your legs again. He plays with your clit for a moment, before sinking a finger in you. You buck up on him, and steady yourself on his shoulders. He pumps his finger into you, loving the way your heat and juices consume his digit. He adds another one, and you feel so incredibly full.

“You ready for me?” Joel murmurs against your neck.

“Mhmm, please Joel. I’ve wanted this for so long!” You gasp as he removes his fingers. He wraps his hand around his cock, guiding it to your entrance. The tip pokes in, then you engulf the rest, taking his full length in you. He lets out a staggering moan as he works his lips down to your collarbone and valley of your breasts. You move your hips, slowly grinding on his cock and your tits bounce in his face. He chuckles and looks up at you. He sits back, holding your hips as you ride him.

“Fucking look at you girl. So gorgeous my god.”

You giggle in return, feeling up your body and playing with your boobs.

“That’s it, put on a little show for me.”

You bounce on him, continuing to feel your body and then you touch your clit, swirling it around in between your fingers. You let out a long, breathy moan, tilting your head back.

“Mmm Joel, Joel Joel Joel….” You hang his name as he squeezes your ass harshly. He helps you move, shoving your body onto his cock and moving his hands to hold your hips.

“That’s it. Oh my god you’re perfect…”

You learn back slightly, rolling your hips and tummy. He splays his hands over your waist, his breath hitching. He loves watching you move. He loves how you feel and needs more. Joel moves expertly to stand up, keeping himself buried inside you and, placing you on your back, you yelp as he lays you on the couch. He dives in for your lips again. He crawls on top of you, wasting no time shoving his length into you. Cupping your face. He rocks his hips, his cock filling you up once again. He speeds up, drilling into you. Your legs fold up to your chest, giving him better access to your pussy. As he thrusts into you, his beautiful eyes meet your own, his gaze thirsty for more. He rests his forehead against you and pants.

“You close?”

“If you touch me again. Play with me a little then I’ll come… please Joel…”

“Yeah? Like this baby?”

He aggressively rubs your core, his hand in sync with his hips. You nod and let out a series of incoherent babbles. You move against his hand and cock, a pool of ecstasy filling your stomach and drowning your senses. Your heat builds and builds until you break. You clench down around him, your breath leaving you as Joel’s mouth falls onto your own. With a few more of his own pumps, his seed is spilling inside you.

“Oh shit” he curses “fuck baby it’s just you felt so good shit I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine I’m on the pill.”

“You sure it’s ok?

You nod and he kisses you deeply, lips pressing firmly on your own. You moan, holding his face.

“You just might be the most perfect thing on the planet, ya know that?”

“Whatever you say.” you chuckle

“I know this may come off as formal given what we just did, but I really wanna take you out for a drink sometime. Like an actual date. If you want?”

“Yes Joel, I’d like that very much.”

꧁•☀︎•꧂

[lanabuckybarnes]

Damn bear.

18+ Minors DNI

Sgt Barnes wins you a bear at a carnival. What he doesn’t expect nor like is when you give it more attention, Bucky shows you that he’s better than the bear.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Jealous Buck, Public Oral, Stuffed bear being abused at the end (you’ll see), filthy Bucky, if there are any more let me know

It had been a fantastic day, the sun shining high in the sky and laughter bubbling from you both. Now as the moon began to rise the carnival had a whole different atmosphere. The big wheel and the rides surrounding it had lit brightly at the first sight of darkness, the stalls had done the same.

It couldn’t have been more romantic if you tried. Bucky slung his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close as he weaved through the crowds of people, eventually you two landed at the ball toss game.

“How much?” Bucky asked, glancing back at you with a confident grin.

“$1 for three shots sir” the older gentleman behind the counter spoke, reaching out his hand to let Bucky place a crumpled note in it.

Bucky threw the shots with ease, hitting every target bang on, much to the man’s dismay.

He’d let you pick your favourite bear, a blue one, one that matched the colours of his eyes. Grasping your hand he pulled you along beside him again, eventually finding a small space between the carnival rides.

He placed a kiss to your head, holding you close to him “you like it?” He asks, tapping the bears head with a long finger. You hummed in response with a nod, your eyes continuing to look over the bears features. Bucky pouted slightly, a slight twinge of something burning in his stomach.

He found it a little ridiculous that he was jealous of a bear but your eyes should’ve been on him, not an inferior stuffed toy. Suddenly he was intent on making you realise he was all you need.

His hand tilted your chin up to face him and he leaned in, sealing your lips in a passionate kiss that took you by surprise.

“Buck!” You squeaked once he let your mouth go, trailing his lips down your neck instead.

“Hmm” he hummed, sucking a small mark on your pulse point as his hands wandered places they shouldn’t have been “Need you”.

“Buck not here, people will notice” you gasped as his thumbs looped around the waistband of your panties, pulling them to your ankles.

“You better be quiet then” he chuckled with a wiggle of his brows; pecking your lips again before taking off his military hat and placing it on your head gently “keep that safe for me” he flashed you a lopsided grin and then he was on his knees.

He pushed your dress up to your waist and kissed up your thigh until he reached your mound. His eyes flickered up to yours as he watched you bite your lip in anticipation, watching him sneak closer to your warmth… then he moved, kissing down your other leg.

You tried your best to hold the whine from falling from your lips at his teasing, desperately trying to make it look like you weren’t craving this as much as he was but the way your hips jerked as he avoided your pussy, betrayed how you felt.

“Aww sweetness, look at you” his hands shifted your thighs apart slightly, eyes boring between them at the slick that had pooled and slipped from your folds “so fucking desperate” he growled planting one last kiss, right on your pubic bone before latching his mouth onto you like a starved man.

He worked fast, his tongue focusing on your little clit while a finger slipped between your folds, fucking you quickly. You moaned against the bears fluffy head, gripping it tightly against your mouth in a desperate attempt at muffling your moans.

Bucky groaned against you when his eyes looked up at you; the way your eyes watched him pleadingly, that fucking bear over your mouth, but what got him really riled was the way his cap hung loosely on your head. The thought of you wearing it around had him feral, the thought of other men trying to get a glimpse of you only to see his hat firmly planted on top of your head and your legs wobbling while you walked. He briefly considered walking around with your slick still glistening on his face, everyone would know he’d made you like that, so wobbly and unable to stand because of his mouth. He smiled against you as he pushed a second finger in, curling them against your sweet spot. That bear could never do that could he?

You eyes flickered over to the crowd of people just at the other end of the alley, they were getting closer and closer, you didn’t doubt if they weren’t so engrossed in one another and looked around they’d see your fucked out face as Bucky’s tongue delved deep into places it should only be in behind closed doors. A fresh flow of warmth ran down you at the thought of being caught, that knotting in your stomach that had been building up was gradually becoming too much.

“You close?” Bucky groaned against you, fingers now doubling their effort. You nodded wildly, his cap almost falling from your head but you caught it quickly, in the process of catching it you jerked forward and your clit graced against Bucky’s teeth. It was enough to send your orgasm crashing down hard.

One of your hands gripped at the stuffed bear while the other pushed Bucky closer towards you, riding your orgasm out on his face.

“You alright?” He asked once he stood up to full height again, his thumb running over your cheek softly, you could only nod and roll your head back against the metal of the ride behind you, your body still raking with aftershocks of your orgasm.

His smile was smug as his fingers wrapped around the bear he’d won for you, pulling it from your lips and kissing you softly, arousal swelled in his own belly when you moaned at the taste of yourself. What you hadn’t expected was him to trail the soft toy down to your heat and wipe it along your soaked folds, the cold plastic nose grazing your over sensitive nub causing you to jerk harshly.

“Fucking bear, he couldn’t eat you out like that could he?” Bucky smirked against your mouth, kissing you again before helping you pull up your panties.

With his hand interlocked with yours you left the alley, his hat still on your head and the hints of your juices against his lips. The bear, which you found out was the reason for him pulling such an orgasm from you, lay discarded in the alley. The only bear you’d ever need was Bucky.

-

This is… wow, even I’m impressed at just how devious this is.

Hope you enjoyed x

[koalayoo]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴍʏᴛʜ ᴏꜰ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ

michael kaiser x gn!reader

content: toxic! bf kaiser, hints of possessiveness, jealousy, insecurity, vague descriptions of his backstory, suggestive, spit kink, exhibitionism kinda, bro does not know how to show love healthily

author's note: tried guys, i couldn't get kaiser being sort of an ass out of my mind, he's a lot tamer than i wanted though. let's also not talk about how i've been gone for like a year.

wc. 1.5k

There was no pretending with Kaiser; he was toxic, and he wore it like a crown.

When you watched his games, you watched him hold himself on his pride. He had this look of self-assurance, a real “I know I’m better than you” stare that pierced those around him, opponents and teammates alike.

However, he was different with you.

Every minute that passed, every goal he scored, his gaze drifted to you. A miniscule lilt of his lips or smile of his eyes would catch your attention and you’d reciprocate all the same. And the reporters knew. Cameras would zoom in on the interaction between you two, commentators swooning over the one who managed to capture the Michael Kaiser’s heart. The man who lives off of the ethos of being the best. So when he scores the winning goal, it’s not a surprise when Kaiser and his teammates rejoice and the stadium bursts into celebration like a wildfire, human fireworks jumping for joy. The place was deafening and you felt electric. That was your man.

You and the other WAGs made your way onto the field. You adorned a copy of Kaiser’s shirt, signature 10 plastered on your back and the name Kaiser claiming your entire being. Congratulations were made to the other players as you scoured your way through the mass of people, trying to find your boyfriend, who stood in the centre of it all basking in the glory. He was surrounded by a throng and you found yourself second guessing everything for a minute.

There was Kaiser, renowned as a German prodigy and then there was you. A number of beautiful news women dressed to the nines stood next to him desperate for any word he would say for their channel. You saw his blue eyes land on you and he attempted to make his way over before being stopped by the same hoard of people. Same group of women attempting to press up next to him, rubbing up against his sweaty body, smelling his deep musky scent. 

You left.

To a different side of the field, away from the commotion, closer to other players but away nonetheless. It was times like this that you realised the disparity between you two. He was a god in the soccer world and you were some regular person that managed to capture his “cold, imperceptible” heart, or whatever the media wanted to paint. They knew how to be cruel too. 

“Kaiser Finds Love: Is This The End Of His Legacy?”

“Fans Label Michael Kaiser’s Girlfriend as a Gold Digger After Recent Scandal”

“Trouble in Paradise? Michael Kaiser and his Girlfriend Seem to be Calling it Quits”

Soccer fans hated you. You were ordinary. A sign that any one of them could have been Kaiser’s but he chose you. People hated it. You didn’t deserve the lavish life being Kaiser’s guaranteed: Michelin star restaurants, paid vacations, VIP treatment. You agreed, you didn’t deserve this. You lived the life of a woman who got it too good to be true and you’d come to the conclusion often that this life wasn’t meant to last. Kaiser was always going to leave you.

You shied away into yourself, continuing to praise and make small talk with the other guys to shield yourself from feelings of insecurity but Kaiser always knew best. Kaiser always knew how you felt and that fuelled his hubris. No one knew you like he did. That you felt inferior to him. That you needed him to feel good about yourself. When you felt an arm snake around your shoulder and pull you onto a firm, broad chest, you knew exactly who it was.

You looked up, met his eyes, and looked away just as fast. His face slowly creeped closer to yours, his face finding home in the crevice of your neck, his nose trailing against the skin behind your ear. He smirked.

“If you can’t handle the spotlight, then maybe you shouldn’t stand next to me.” Kaiser whispered mockingly into your ear.

You eyed him from the side, surprised. “I- I just…” You sigh, trying to put some distance between you both. “...got in my own head is all.” Your eyes wander down, hands fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

Kaiser chuckled, head leaning over your frame. “Is that so?” He teased in a sing-song manner. “Should get all up on mine.” He sneered, grabbing a strand of hair and playing with it, making you look up. You roll your eyes lightheartedly. “‘M joking baby, you know that.” 

You hum, looking back up at him, finally making eye contact that lasts longer than a millisecond. He smiles, looking less like a dick and more like your boyfriend. You want to smile back but then you feel the flashes of camera light around you, the bright white stadium lights seeming jarring and suddenly all your feelings of self doubt come back. He notices, like always, and laughs lightly holding no bite.

“Fuck… I love whenever you look at me like that,” He murmured, eyes squinting slightly as he takes you in. 

“Like what?”

“Like, that. With your self-consciousness, that stupidly meek look. Like I want anyone but you.”

It wasn’t hard to understand. You needed Kaiser more than he needed you. At least you thought that. But Kaiser knew what love was, and… what love wasn’t.

Love wasn’t his mom abandoning him as a child, love wasn’t his fathers palm making contact with his unmarred skin, love wasn’t his father howling anything but his name, love wasn’t the rugged, dingy house he grew up in with a scrawny blanket for comfort, love wasn’t the “work” his father made him do just to survive, love wasn’t contained in the fingers that wrapped around his own neck.

Love remained trapped in the shreds of leather in his childhood football, in the ink injected into his skin, entwined within the blue roses displayed against it. Love was the endurance he held, the will to continue to live. Love was the way you held him every night, how your fingers tugged against his blonde-blue hair to pull his head up, in which your lips softly met his when his mind began to wander.

Love was you.

But by god was Michael terribly woeful at showing it.

Heat rushed to your cheeks and you looked away bashfully unsure whether to take that as something to appreciate. He grabs your fidgety hands and holds them in his. “You know, jealousy looks good on you but… devotion does too.” An eyebrow raised, your face showing your confusion. “Come on, you know what I mean. Show everyone you’re mine,” He leans in closer, his nose rubbing against yours affectionately. “and that maybe I’m yours.”

Cerulean eyes filled with a bit of insanity and hunger trail around you both. It didn’t take a genius to realise that when Kaiser’s mouth tilted up obnoxiously that everyone's eyes were on you. You stole a glance and saw large professional cameras and phones pointed in your direction. A part of you screams surely they weren’t aimed at you but for Kaiser to be showing this much affection in public? That turns your thoughts straight.

“Micha…” Your voice tried to warn affectionately, almost inaudibly. “We can’t…”

His hands grab you by your waist and press you against him. “Why can’t we? Can’t handle a little challenge?” He taunts. “Tsk, tsk, thought my girl was better than that.”

You place your hands against his hard chest, musculature felt beneath your finger tips that took years to cultivate. 

“I-” 

“You?” He lifts your hands to rest on his shoulders and leans in impossibly closer. “You think too much, that’s what.” His lips begin to graze against yours and you begin to blink slower, feeling an invigorating haze of heat begin to trail over your body with a gentle caress like a cloud drifting through you. 

“Live a little. Kiss me like you mean it, right here, right now. Let’s show everyone, hmm?”

He waits for you to move first, to show that you actually want it and when your eyes finally flutter close his warm lips capture yours in a soft kiss. It makes your mind feel misty. He amps up the pressure and pushes himself into you. Fingers dig presser indents into your hips. Hands trail onto his neck, and he notes how he likes these ones better. 

You’re distinctly aware of everyone in the stadium, quite certain you heard a few gasps and camera shutters in the distance. You wish you could say you didn’t care but you did and reluctantly pull away causing Kaiser to furrow his brows with a pout. He was tired of talking, tired from the game, tired of waiting. His calloused fingers gripped your chin sharply, causing you to look up at him.

“Open.” He commanded.

You knew exactly what was happening. 

Hesitant. Nervous. Inadequate.

He was waiting.

You opened your mouth, looking up at him expectantly. A glob of spit left his mouth like a thick drop of rain, slow and deliberate. Intimate. His gaze never left yours. The action was filled with defiance, superiority, impatience. When it entered your mouth he lifted your chin up, closing your mouth. A smug smile made its way to his face.

“Nothing could ever make me give up on this.”

reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated! this is my original work.

[rafesplaymate]

FWB!Rafe Cameron x FWB!Reader

Chapter ii

˖₊⊹ ᡣ𐭩 navigation. ˖₊⊹ ᡣ𐭩 masterlist ˖₊⊹ ᡣ𐭩 series masterlist

warnings: angst. violent / abusive behaviors. toxic relationships. dark themes / adult content.

a/n: i wasn’t going to let rafe or sofia win lol

˖₊⊹ ᡣ𐭩 ˖₊⊹ ᡣ𐭩 ˖₊⊹

Rafe is fucking miserable. Honestly that’s a fucking understatement for the influx of overlapping emotions he feels as he watches y/n from afar. Sofia was tucked under his arm yapping away about god knows what. Rafe having checked out since he saw y/n come into sight. All his thoughts consumed by her as the hole she left behind in his chest grew bigger. Here he was in despair and there she was having the time of her life.

Rafe’s attempts to reach out to her after the way he treated her completely ignored. She cut him out of her life completely, not even acknowledging his existence in the slightest. She quite literally ghosted him and left him behind. His desperate attempts at getting her attention and trying to get her to speak to him all failed. He attempted to blow up her phone with incessant calls and text that never went through because she immediately blocked him. He then tried to go to her house which was intercepted by her mom who gave him a nasty scowl and shoved a box of gifts he gave her, and items he left at her place from all the times he was over there into his chest. Their front door slammed in his face and leaving him shut out of a place he felt was his second home. He even tried to stop her at parties or bonfires, all his efforts going inauspicious because her other friends intercepted before he could even get to her. Shoving him away and giving him nasty glares before being told to ‘leave her alone, you bitch. Go back to your little girlfriend.’ He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so iced out before.

So here he stands at a bonfire on the cut, Sofia’s words going in one ear and out the other as he desperately tried to catch y/n’s eyes. Desperate to see her pretty gaze on his once more, desperate for just an ounce of her attention. He almost wanted to whine like a petulant child who wasn’t getting attention, it hurt him so fucking bad that she just completely shut him out. And fuck -he knows he deserves it. He fucking knows he does; he was so coked out of his mind that evening. His adrenaline pushing him to speak to her as if she meant nothing to him when she meant fucking everything.

Y/n was the only person to accept him in his entirety. She accepted all his flaws, his twisted personality. She didn’t just accept it. She loved it. She would kiss his bloody knuckles every time he punched a hole in one of their walls. She would kiss the cuts and bruises on his face after a fight. She would lick his tears and kiss them away when he cried to her as he wrapped her tightly his arms, body pressed to his. She would back him up when people would call him a psychopath, shut them down with that bitchy attitude he had never been privy too. Until now. He’d know she could be a real fucking cunt, but he didn’t ever think he’d be on the receiving end of it. And now that he is, he feels like he’s spiraling.

After weeks of not being able to get in contact with her, he’d found solace in Sofia. Using her to numb the hole y/n left behind his chest. He struggled so fucking much to get used to the stark differences between them both. Sofia would scold him when he punched the wall, scold him when he fought, scold him when he went on one of his infamous rampages. Trying to push him to do better and be someone else. And he fucking hated it, so different from the way you treated him. You didn’t try to ‘fix him,’ the way she did. You just loved him for who he was and he fucked it all up. Even the sex was subpar, deciding to just take her from behind and shove her head into the mattress so he could imagine it was y/n. But he never could. Sex with y/n was like a drug. Completely euphoric; a spiritual experience he was addicted to having. And he felt like a fiend needing another hitt of his favorite drug which was her…y/n.

Y/n couldn’t stop the pang of immense hurt she felt in her chest when she saw Rafe around the island with Sofia, the Kook prince and princess’s separation spreading around like wildfire. Sure everyone knew y/n and Rafe were best friends but they knew that it was so much more than what met the eye. The impalpable chemistry between the two; suffocating any room they were in with great tension. Everyone felt like they just went together. A Kook bitch and Kook asshole who only had soft spots for each other. Y/n was kinder than Rafe but she could go on a real rampage like he did. Her fiery attitude matching his own in every way. So for everyone to see Rafe with someone as fucking bland as Sofia, it was a big shock. Kook girls and boys and pogues alike taking to the fact that the finest girl on the island was now out of the clutches of Rafe Cameron. And they took full advantage.

So yeah, maybe it hurt y/n to see Rafe parading around with Sofia; but she threw herself into the attention granted to her by the other cute islanders and left him as an after thought that constantly nagged in the back of her brain. Here she was dancing and grinding on cute boys and girls as they flocked to her. Her beautiful body looking so damn enticing as she moved around seductively to the beat of the music. Skimpy outfit accentuating her perfectly and the body glitter she had on, glimmering with each turn. She looked like a beach goddess, truly the baddest on the island. People couldn’t believe Rafe Cameron fumbled for a dud like Sofia, all modestly and blandness. The complete opposite of y/n.

Barry had been watching her all night, finally ready to make a move since Rafe wasn’t in the way anymore. The only reason he never has was because that’s his friend/business partner’s girl or at least she was. Also more so because, not that he doesn’t think she’s worth it; but he really didn’t want to face Rafe’s wrath. Him now knowing that she’s out of his clutches has him feeling over-confident, he’s making a move and making it tonight. Rafe could be stupid but he wouldn’t make the same mistake.

Y/n was wearing out, having danced off her buzz and needing more to keep her going and keep her distracted. She knew Rafe had been watching her all night, and she reveled in it. She loves it, she wants him to pine after her, grieve the loss of her companionship the way she grieved his. It boosted her pride from the amount of times he’s tried to reach out to her. He deserves to grovel for her attention and time. She’ll never let him live it down. But fuck does she miss him being her plug, needing a line ASAP. So she goes to the one person she knows will hook her up with no charge just with a bat of her wispy lashes and a pout from her pretty lips. Immediately making her way to Barry, hips swaying with each step and making party-goers from tour-ons to Kooks and Pogues alike, both men and women ogling her stunning self. Barry included as he watched her walk toward him.

Barry was one of the many people who’d been staring at her the whole night, his eyes running up and down her figure the whole time she was dancing. Barry wasn’t dumb, from the moment he met y/n he knew she was gorgeous. He was more than willing to accept any attention she gave him, allowing only her to bitch him out of product with a bat of her pretty eyes. She got near him, her lips twisting into a coy smile as she gave him those fuck me eyes that would make any man want to ravage her whole.

“Hi Barryyy,” she sighed out, coming up right in front of him and immediately sliding a manicured hand from his mid stomach, up to his chest. Letting him pull her in by the waist with one arm while the other held a red solo cup full of god knows what. Her arms immediately wrapping around his neck as she leaned her body into him. Plump tips pressed into his chest and nipples hard against him as she leaned her face close to his. Y/n always found Barry attractive, she didn’t mind letting him run his hands all over her. “Whatchu want, beautiful? Hmm?” He drawled, looking down at her beautiful face as she leaned her head back to give him doe-eyes that made him want to take her right there in the sand in front of everyone. “Need some more,” she whined lowly, brushing her lips against his and feeling his hand lower to her ass. Gripping a handful as she pressed into him more, biting her lip with a low moan as she allowed him to grope her. Her eyes fluttered as she moaned out an airy, ‘Baaarrryyyy.” Tightening her arms around him and brushing her lips against his cheek as she moaned into his ear the more he groped her.

Rafe was fuming, he wanted to fucking murder someone at this very moment. That someone being his fucking business partner who was grabbing all over his woman, but what hit him more is that she was allowing it. Liking it actually, her left leg coming up to wrap lightly around his as she let Barry press light kisses to her throat, hand still groping her ass as she leaned her head back. Rafe’s vision tunneled, his heart pounding in his chest his ears rang with rage. He felt his soul shattering, his heart shattering. He wanted to scream and cry and fall at her feet. Bury his face into her tummy that he loved so much and wrap his arms around her as he begged her to forgive him. The red solo cup in his hand crushing in his big palm as the contents of it spilled all over his hand. Not even giving a damn that his hand was all sticky or the gasp falling from Sofia’s lips as he took his arm from around her and shoved her to the side harshly. Tossing his cup and storming through the sand with only murder on his mind. People taking notice and moving to the side knowing he was more than willing to knock them over for being in his way.

Eyes began falling onto the scene of Rafe’s reddened face tightened in anger as he got closer to y/n and Barry. The two in their own world as y/n began grinding her hips into Barry’s bugle pressed against her, his cup having been tossed to the side so he could hold her leg against his hip and grind into her. He loved the way she smelled, her creamy vanilla scent making him want to devour her whole. He was more than willing to take her back to his tonight and give her whatever she wanted. Knowing of her high sex drive from all the times she practically almost fucked Rafe in front of him when they all hung out, getting high together. Y/n kept her head tilted back and eyes closed, she loved the feeling of Barry’s calloused hand gripping her under her tiny skirt, skin to skin due to the little thong she was wearing. She was more than willing to hook up with him tonight and get her mind off Rafe, about ready to tell Barry to take her somewhere private until a familiar grip tugged on her upper arm. Rafe pulled y/n away from Barry harshly, tossing her behind him into the sand as she gasped in shock. Party goers immediately going to her aid and helping her back up as she stabilized herself.

Rafe socked Barry in the jaw, immediately pushing him to the ground and landing punch after punch as his knuckles cracked open and his blood slipped out, Barry’s mixing in as he smashed his face in. Rafe’s vision was red and the only thing that brought him back was the familiar voice screaming in his ear and familiar hands tugging at his arm. ‘Stop! Stop! RAFE STOP!’ Her voice faded in, the ringing in his ears subsiding as he took in his surroundings once again. The bonfire now quiet except for the blasting music, everyone circled around the commotion as Barry groaned under him. Rafe still straddling him until he stumbled up, allowing the tugging on his arm to guide him. He looked around at everyone screaming out a, “the fuck are you looking at, huh?!” Glaring into the eyes cutting into him as people backed up. Another infamous rampage that would be the talk for weeks to come.

Rafe turned to the source of the tugging, taking in y/n’s pleading face as he grabbed her and manhandled her over his shoulder. Storming his way through the parting crowd, Sofia watching with teary eyes and an aching heart as he completed disregarded her. Y/n squirming around on his shoulder while she kicked her legs and pounded on his lower back. Screaming at him to let her down as he completely ignored her and headed straight for his truck.

He heard a voice that wasn’t y/n’s angry yells calling his name. Ignoring it as he got near his trucks passenger seat and opened it quickly, tossing y/n in and slamming the door shut. Immediately locking the car and slamming on his window with a “don’t fucking move!” Trudging to the drivers side and about ready to get in when a grip on his arm tugged at him. He turned around with rage in his eyes as he took in a crying Sofia; her voice cracking as she yelled at him with tears streaming fown her cheeks. “What is wrong with you?!” she cried, smacking at his chest as he stared at her emotionless.

Coldness in his eyes as he took the hands pounding into his chest and gripped them by her wrist. Huffing deeply from his nose as he caught her eyes with his, his wide open and crazed as he told her one thing, “you were nothing. Nothing but an easy fuck. You’re fucking pathetic, you’re fucking easy, and you’re a lousy lay. Keep your boring ass away from me, alright?! We’re done. Go bother some other sucker.” He said with complete harshness in his voice, his words cutting into her as he took his grip on her wrist to push her away from him. Her body stumbling and landing into the sand as she sobbed harder. Her entire soul shattered and heart stomped on. He didn’t give a single fuck, his mind consumed with one person who was staring straight through his window with rage in her eyes. Not daring to leave cause y/n knows he would chase after her and tackle her into the sand. He got in his seat and immediately drove away, away from all the chaos he caused because he’s an insolent, impulsive child who doesn’t know how to express himself correctly.

“You think that’s funny? Huh?!” He pressed y/n, turning to look at her with those crazed eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest, bringing one out to check her manicure as she scoffed and rolled her eyes. Already knowing how to handle the monster Rafe was when he was full of anger. He drove fast and recklessly, his gaze continuously whipping between her and the road as she refused to speak to him. Staring out the window as she ignored the tension that was almost suffocating in the car. Rafe reached his hand over and gripped her chin to make her face him, looking back at the road as she struggled with getting the painful grip of his hand off her face. “When I ask you a question, you fucking answer me!” He squeezed her face harder, making her cry out as she began clawing at his arms with her nails; angry red streaks tainting his skin as he sped up.

“Fuck you!” She spit out, bringing her hands to smack at his face as they struggled with each other. Rafe eventually pulling away to grip both hands on the wheel and pulling the car quickly into his lane when it veered over into the other one. Almost hitting another car that was honking harshly at him. “I’ll kill both of us right the fuck now! You think I won’t?! I’ll fucking take you down with me, baby!” He screamed at her as she kept smacking at him. Biting his hand when he tried to grip her face again and digging her teeth in. Making him hiss and pull it away quickly, drops of blood leaking out from how deep she bit into him. “Do it then you fucking pussy! You’re so fucking pathetic!” she screamed at him.

Fortunately, Rafe pulled into Tannyhill’s driveway and brought the car to a screeching halt. Quickly putting the car in park; hopping out and storming to the passenger side as he tugged it open and dragged her out of the car by her arm. Slamming the door and manhandling her all the way to the front door of his house, till he opened it and pushed her forward. Watching her stumble in and almost fall to her knees but quickly catching her balance and turning around to face him. The same crazed look in her eyes as he brought out her monster that matched his to play.

Y/n rushed at him and tried to knock him in his jaw, Rafe’s reflexes quick as he grabbed her wrist and tugged her into him with it. Other hand wrapping around her throat and squeezing harshly as he cut off her air supply, her feistiness subsiding as her face turned red and her free hand began clawing at his wrist to make him release her. He finally did and she stumbled back gasping harshly for air as she caught her breath. Her spotty vision going back to normal as she looked at him. The two breathing harshly, chest quickly rising up and down as they sized each other up. She walked to him quickly, her cute sandal-heels clacking as she brought her hand up and back-handed him so hard his bottom lip split open from the diamond ring on her finger.

When Rafe turned his head to look at her again, she back handed him again. Watching him as he let out a pained groan and brought his hand to his pounding cheek. Feeling the cut she left on his lip and cheek; dabbing the blood dripping out with the tip of his middle finger as he looked at her. Her eyes daring him to test her again as his monster submitted to hers, the two staring at each other as his eyes began water, tears dripping down his cheeks as a pained sob left his mouth. Falling to his knees as he crawled to her and grabbed her by her lower back, tugging her to him as he buried his face into her bare stomach. His heavy tears wetting her smooth skin as he sobbed all his frustrations and heartache out.

“M’sorry! I’m so fucking sorry!” He cried out, his voice full of emotion as he sobbed into her. Apologizing for everything. For making her feel used, making her feel like she was nothing to him when she was everything. Sorry for all the hurt he caused her, both mental and physical; he knew he wasn’t good for her. He’d always known and he was proving himself right. Sobbing into her harder as his hands splayed flat against her lower back to push his face deeper into her stomach, “please y/n! Please!” He looked up at her then, on his knees with a red face as tears continued to run down his cheeks, snot dripping from his nose. Completely hysterical as she clenched both her fist by her side, starting at him down her nose with no emotion in her eyes. Cold and the complete ice queen he knows she can be.

“I can-I can’t fucking taking it anymore! It’s driving me insane! You’re driving me insane! I’m fucking sorry! I never meant to hurt you y/n, please believe me! I-I was so fucked up that day and Sofia wanted me so bad! It made me feel good! Good to have her falling at my feet! But she isn’t you baby, please!” He choked out, baring his soul through his mouth and pleading eyes as she continued staring down at him with no emotion. He wrapped his arms completely around her, chin resting on her stomach as he cried up to her.

“You’re everything! Everything to me! From the moment I met you, I knew it! I-I didn’t know how to handle all the emotion you make me feel, you make my head go haywire! It’s overwhelming an-and fuck! I didn’t know how to handle it, you’re so much better than me! You’re too good for me! You know it, I know it! The whole fucking island knows it! And Sofia was easy! She fell at my feet and made me feel like a fucking god! But baby, you! You make me feel like I belong, like i’m not alone an-and you love me for who I am! You always have and I always knew it! Because I love you the same way baby, love you so much mama! You’re everything to me, y/n! Everything! I love you! I love you! And you love me!” He finished, tears still pouring out of his eyes as her hands unclenched. Rafe was ready for her to caress him, tell him it was going to be all okay in her usual coo and tell him that they were okay. That she loved him just the same and that they could move on and start over. But what he expected to be an affectionate caress was actually a harsh shove.

Y/n pushed at his shoulders, pushing his face away from her stomach as she began clawing at his arms around her. “Get off,” she said coldly; continuing to push him away as he tightened his grip and shook his head side to side. A fresh batch of tears pouring down his cheeks. “Rafe get the fuck off of me!” She screamed, shoving him for the last time as he let go. His arms feeling to his sides with defeat as he stared at her with red eyes. Watching y/n as she stepped back and let out a sarcastic laugh. Shaking her head with a scoff at the end and crossing her arms over her chest.

“You are so fucking pathetic.” She bit out, voice harsh. Not one ounce of the affection she use to regard him with left in her voice. Rafe whimpering at that, opening his mouth to continue groveling until she spoke up again and raised a hand to signal him to be quiet. “Don’t. You had your chance to speak, now listen to me.” Rafe’s mouth immediately shutting closed into a tight line as he submitted and listened to her intently. Eyes pleading, as her hand lowered and she stared him down.

“So what? You treated me like shit because I didn’t what? Fall at your feet like that pathetic little pogue, bitch!” She shouted at him, her crazed eyes cutting into him. “Awww poor baby,” she mocked, “doesn’t know how to be a man and express himself so he acts like the little bitch he is! You’re so fucking sad, you know that? I loved you Rafe. So much! I gave you me in my entirety! I gave you all of me! Not just my heart, body, and soul but my mind! I let you know the darkest parts of me! Things no one else knows! And you did what? Tossed me to the side because some boring bitch gave you a bit of attention? Because she kissed the ground you walked on like the pathetic low life she is!” She spoke firmly, her face in a scowl of disgust as she stared him down like he was nothing.

“You’re just as fucking stupid as her! You’re both pathetic. I want nothing, and listen to me closely.” She walked to him, gripping his face in her hand and digging her nails into him. His lips squished as he stared up at her pathetically. “I want nothing to do with you. You’re nothing to me anymore, nothing. You’re just a pathetic coke head with daddy issues and mommy issues who never grew up. You don’t know how express yourself at your grown age and act like a man. Grow the fuck up Rafe! You’re a little boy, a stupid little boy. I was so blinded by my love for you that I didn’t realize how much of a bitch you really are. This is the first and last time I’m gonna say this. Leave. me. the fuck. alone.” She snarled at him, teeth bared at him like a lioness ready to attack her prey.

“I’m the best thing to happen to you baby, and you threw it all away for some bottom barrel pussy and easy attention. I’ll be fine, I’ll prosper. I can have anyone I want and do whatever the hell I set my mind too. I don’t need you. I never have and never will. I let you in because I wanted too, not because I needed too. The only difference between us is that I only wanted you but you need me. You need me. You always have and always will. But I’m done with you. For good. Go back to your sloppy little bitch and stay the fuck out of my life. You two low lives deserve each other. I’ll find the man who can stand by me without being so fucking intimated.” She spit out harshly, releasing the grip on his face as she walked back away from him slowly, giving him one last glare as she turned on her heels and headed for the front door. Ready to walk out of his life and leave him in the dirt.

Rafe shuffled forward on his knees as he pleaded with her, spitting out one last, “please y/n! Please baby! You’re right, you’re so fucking right! I need you baby please don’t leave me! I’ll do anything!” He sobbed out once more, watching as her hand stopped on the handle of the door as she pondered his words and turned back to him. Rafe feeling a lightening in his chest as hope grew. Ready for her to take him back, light building in his eyes. Until it all came shattering back down when she let out a mocking laugh. Eyes cutting into him with that condescending look that made anyone in her line of sight feel so little. Him included.

“Had I known me fucking you would get you so attached, I would have never done it. Now clean yourself up, you’re killing my fucking mood more than you already have.” Throwing his words back at him as she turned back around and opened the door. Slamming it behind it and walking out into the cool air of the night. Leaving Rafe behind, for good. Him shattered to nothing while she found a renewed sense of life. Her chest lightening as she felt a weight lift off her shoulders.

She’d be okay. Better than okay, she’d be great. She was a strong woman and no pathetic man was gonna break her down and make her into nothing. She would prosper and give herself a better life. Already making plans to leave the island, leave this place full of tainted memories behind and find a place to make new ones. She would start over and create her own happiness. Her confidence bursting back into her as she walked down the driveway with a renewed sense of pride. Hope for better running through her. And as for Rafe … his soul died. His spirit broken, heart shattering to a million pieces in such a way that could never be properly put back together. Pieces of it missing forever, the biggest piece of it walking out of his life. And y/n only thought one thing. Fuck Rafe Cameron.

˖₊⊹ ᡣ𐭩 ˖₊⊹ ᡣ𐭩 ˖₊⊹

a/n: PHEW! that was intense! sorry if yall wanted them to reconcile but nuh uh ——that boy grovel in his misery! pls let me know your thoughts in the comments! it would be deeply appreciated it! much love

taglist: @drewstarkeys-world @maybankslover

[avvail]

a villain that can hypnotise people through touch

The hero feels themselves tripping over their own two feet as the imposing figure advances on them, until their back hits the wall with a solid thud. They attempt to keep their breathing under control, but it’s a difficult game.

“Where are you going?” The villain asks simply, as if they don’t already know the answer to the question. The hero grits their teeth, baring them viciously.

“Stay back,” they hiss. “I mean it.”

“Or else what?” The villain chuckles humourlessly, their cold eyes not leaving theirs for even a moment. “You know you can’t win this fight.”

“No,” they shakily whisper, their eyes desperately searching for a way to escape. They are not ignorant to the power that the villain possesses. The power that had kept them trapped in their clutches for far too long. “Give me a ten foot pole and I’ll find a way to keep you away from me.”

The villain raises a brow. “You don’t have one of those, doll.”

“Yeah?” They spit. “Wanna bet?”

The villain takes a measured step forward, and the hero’s narrowed eyes suddenly widen, pressing themselves closer against the wall until they’re impossibly flat.

“No, please,” they breathe, their face wrinkling in fear. “The people need me, Villain. Please, let me go back out there.”

The villain laughs coldly, like that’s funny.

“You should see yourself when you cling to me,” they respond coolly, their eyes flashing with something dangerous. “It’s cute. You make these little doe eyes that drive me crazy.”

“That’s not me,” they choke, their hands pressing into their chest. “These gaps in my memory, not knowing how much time has passed, what you’ve made me do – it’s torture.”

“It’s far from torture, doll,” the villain frowns, taking another step forward. The hero’s heart hammers in their chest, lodging in their lungs and making it difficult to breathe. “You don’t see how much you’re spoiled.”

The hero chokes on a hitched breath. “You get off on this sick power play. You take away people’s free will, make them into—”

“—nothing?” The villain interrupts sharply. Their expression darkens. “You’d never understand what it’s like from my perspective. You’re thinking too hard, yet so little. Why don’t you come here?”

The hero instantly shakes their head. “No. Stay away from me.”

“Then I come to you.”

“Stay away.”

The hero makes a desperate lunge in an attempt to escape, but the villain’s hand seizes their wrist instantly, and they gasp. Tingles reverberate through their skin, and they desperately try to yank away. Their grasp is unrelenting, and with each second that ticks by, the tingles grow stronger, spreading through their body like wildfire.

“Stop,” they gasp, their knees weak when they’re tugged closer. “Please, please stop.”

“Shh,” the villain hums, a warm hand cupping their cheek, making the hero’s throat close up. Their mind goes haywire. But when the villain speaks, when their skin touches theirs, their thoughts begin to die out.

“That’s it, doll,” they purr, brushing a thumb under their eye when a stray tear leaked down their cheek. “Just like that.”

It’s always beautiful when the thoughts leave their eyes, when their weakening struggles die down, and they go slack and pliant in their arms. The villain’s eyes crinkle with a smile, admiring the dazed expression on their face. It takes moments until all the fight is drained out of them.

“There you go,” the villain hums, and their touch makes the hero go all fuzzy and lightheaded. “Let’s go back, shall we?”

The hero obediently follows them along.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Practice

Hardersson x Teen!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You need to practice

On the weekend, when you don't have games and you've finished all your homework, you have a kick about in the garden.

Or, rather, Momma and Morsa had a kick around and you save their shots.

Momma's better at shooting than Morsa but Morsa does better headers so it all evens out you suppose.

Either way, you get practice and they get exercise.

It's a win-win.

You're doing well with your academy training but not well enough. Since the time you rejected Germany's offer to have you play for their youth teams, no one else had called you up.

Not Denmark.

Not Sweden.

Some of your peers at Academy training had wormed their ways onto the youth teams, even for just one call up.

But you hadn't.

You don't know what you're doing wrong. You don't know why you're not good enough.

What you do know is that you want to be on those teams. Those teams are stepping stones to get to the senior team and the senior team is the road to joining the big clubs.

The European giants that you so desperately want to play for.

Wolfsburg is your destination, in big blinding lights in your head.

You want to play for Wolfsburg. You want to dominate the German League with them and, hopefully, the Champion's League as well.

But Wolfsburg won't look twice at you if you aren't on Sweden or Denmark's senior team.

Hence why you're practicing now, saving shot after shot after shot in your fancy new gloves, standing in the new goal set up in your garden after a drunk Morsa stumbled into your old one and broke it.

Another shot streaks past your outstretched hands and you kick your goalpost angrily, rolling the ball from out of your net and back to Momma.

"You're not defending properly!" You tell Morsa, arms crossed over your chest," You keep letting her win!"

Morsa laughs, like she can't see how important this is to you. "We're just playing around, princesse."

"We're not! I'm practicing!"

"Take it easy. It's not the be all end all."

"It is!"

You stamp your foot and Morsa laughs again, fondly ruffling your hair and you want to scream.

"You're not at training, princesse. It isn't that serious."

"It is!"

"It isn't."

"Magda," Momma says warningly," Leave her alone."

"Pernille!"

Momma grabs the ball and starts dribbling.

Morsa still isn't taking it that seriously, making a few attempts at getting the ball again but ultimately leaving Momma enough room to take another shot.

You catch it this time, falling to the ground to hold it against your body like Zećira has always taught you.

You stay on the ground for a while, drawing big deep breaths into your lungs.

Pernille sits in front of you, nudging you gently with her foot. "What's going on, huh? What's got you all high strung?"

You huff and mumble," I don't want to talk about it."

"You're not usually this short with us," Pernille says," Talk to me. What's going on?"

"It's stupid."

"If it's upsetting you then I don't think it is."

"Everyone else has been called up for the youth teams," You let the rest of your words go unspoken.

"You'll get there," Magda says, still standing nearby," It'll happen eventually."

"I don't want it eventually! I want it now! Everyone else has been called up! Everyone else is getting game time with the youth teams!"

"People develop at different times," Pernille's trying to soothe you, to talk you off the ledge," It's perfectly okay to not be going to camps the same time as everyone else."

"I should have accepted Germany's offer when I had the chance!" You say and that's when Magda and Pernille know you're being serious about this.

"Just because everyone else is going doesn't mean that you're a worse player," Pernille says to you," You shouldn't measure yourself against them."

You sit up. "Whatever." You grab the ball, angrily booting it all the way to the other end of the garden. "I told you it was stupid."

"Princesse-"

You move to go back inside.

"Come here," Magda says.

You ignore her.

"Don't ignore me! Come here!"

She's using her captain voice, the one she used to use when she played for Sweden. You know better than to ignore her now.

You stand in front of her, looking up.

"You worth is not reliant on whether or not you get into the youth teams."

You scoff. "Maybe not to you."

"Princesse-"

"But don't lie and say big clubs don't start picking out future players from the moment they lay eyes on them. No one watches random youth team matches at club level, not really. But they do watch it at international level. I know that. You know that."

"I know that," Magda echoes," But you have all the time in the world."

"Do I?" You say," Do I really?"

"You're fourteen. You have so much time."

You look away. "No, I don't."

You're growing up now, shooting up like a weed but Pernille's still taller than you, still tall enough to rest her chin on the top of your head and hug you from behind.

"Tell me what you need, princesse. What do you want out of this?"

"I want to be the best. I want you to help me be the best."

"Okay," Pernille says," We'll help you be the best."

[vroomvro0mferrari]

CL16 | Oblivious

Sorry it took me so long, I was really busy with finals the last couple of weeks but I've finally finished the fic from the poll! I hope you like it :)

Summary: Charles has been blatantly flirting with Y/N for months, but she's the only one who hasn't noticed.

Charles Leclerc x Sainz!Reader

WC: 2.4K

Warnings: None

Masterlist

Charles was busy in the garage, talking with his mechanics when he saw her walk in. Y/N Sainz, the younger sister of his friend and teammate. He had seen her many, many times when she came to support her brother at his races. It seemed like Charles could sense her presence, knowing she was there without having seen or heard her, always looking up right when she walked in. Y/N Sainz was greatly loved by the Ferrari employees. With her bubbly personality, witty jokes, and bright smiles, all the team members enjoyed her presence. And Charles couldn’t help but feel the same way, although Y/N was completely oblivious to his affection. 

His face lit up when their eyes met, instantly smiling at her company. As soon as she was close enough, he greeted her, “Ah Y/N! Nice to see you again, you look lovely today!” He grinned.

“Oh, thank you, Charles. You’re so kind!” She responded with a bright smile as she hugged him in greeting, the flirty undertone going by entirely unnoticed.

Charles had been enamoured with Y/N since the first time they met. In an effort to not come off too strong and scare her away, Charles tried to flirt with her subtly. However, after several occurrences without any reaction from Y/N, it seemed his flirting was too subtle. Either that or she was not into him. But he couldn’t give into that possibility just yet.

As time passed and Y/N became a more familiar face in the paddock, Charles’s flirtations became bolder. He’d constantly try to include her in conversations and would make up all kinds of excuses just to talk to her. Whenever he did manage to string her into another conversation, he’d try to make her laugh as much as he could. Simply because he could, and because he loved to see her happy and smiling. And if he was feeling really confident, he would even go as far as to touch her arm or the small of her back while they were chatting away or walking around the paddock together. Nevertheless, to Charles's frustration, Y/N didn’t seem to notice his underlying motives, dismissing his actions and words as nothing more than friendly gestures.

Meanwhile, everyone else who had ever been around the duo seemed to have caught sight of the one-sided infatuation and attempt at courtship. Everybody except for Y/N had noticed Charles was desperately trying to make his feelings for the girl obvious, but she simply kept friend-zoning him. Frankly, he found it embarrassing. 

Nearly all of Charles’s fellow drivers had been caught up in one of his attempts to woo Y/N while she simply brushed his compliments off as friendly comments. It was hard not to notice Charles’s fruitless flirting when he did it right in front of them, but they didn’t say anything about it. His colleagues merely exchanged knowing glances with others aware of the situation, amused at Charles’s futile attempts at winning Y/N over. But as time wore on, and Charles kept trying, at least a few of his colleagues started to comment on his persistence, calling him a simp, and joking about his poor flirting. Some suggested he should stop his pursuit of Y/N, as it seemed she wasn’t interested, but Charles was relentless: he would not quit until he knew for sure Y/N Sainz didn’t and would never like him.

And so, when Charles spotted Y/N walking through the paddock with Lando, one of the people in the paddock she got along with better, talking animatedly and laughing loudly with each other, he approached her once more; he would seize any opportunity to blatantly flirt with Y/N. He quickly caught up with the two, putting his hand on the small of her back as he matched his speed with theirs. “You’re absolutely radiant today, chérie” He greeted her with a cheeky grin.  

Y/N looked to her side, greeting the new presence “Hey, Charles!” As oblivious as always, she sweetly smiled up at him and replied, “Thanks! You’re such a sweet friend!”

Lando was a mere bystander in the situation as he observed the interaction, surprised and amused at the ease with which Y/N once again waved off the man who was so clearly crushing on her. He held his opinions back until Charles left, “Wow, you certainly have no trouble friend-zoning him, don’t you?” He commented.

Y/N cocked her head as she looked at him, her brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Lando laughed humourlessly, “Dear God, you really have no idea?” He paused, “Y/N, Charles has been flirting non-stop with you for ages. How on earth have you not noticed?”

She stopped walking and looked at him in confusion, “He’s not flirting with me, Lando, he’s just being nice. He’s a good friend.” 

“I’m actually quite sure he’s flirting with you, Y/N. So is everyone else. You could literally ask any of the drivers, and they would confirm it. The Ferrari employees too, I reckon. He likes you, Y/N.” He said unimpressed.

“Charles likes me?” She asked softly, suddenly turning shy, a blush creeping onto her face.

Lando sighed, realising his friend was even more oblivious than he initially thought. “Yeah, he does. I’m honestly surprised you’ve never noticed.” He gently squeezed her shoulder before they parted ways.

— — —

For the rest of the day, Y/N thought about Lando’s words. She thought about all her interactions with Charles over the last few months and realised that he did compliment her quite often. 

Once, on a sunny afternoon, Y/N was chatting with some of the Ferrari team members near the garage when Charles spotted her. He, as always, decided to walk over to talk with her, his usual charming smile on his face and mischief in his eyes.

"Y/N, only you can make a sunny day even brighter," he said with a big, playful smile and admiration in his voice.

Y/N blinked at him, surprised by his sudden appearance and his bold statement. "Oh, thank you, Charles! That's really sweet of you to say."

Unfazed by her obliviousness, Charles pressed on, determined to make his feelings known after such a long time. "No, really," he insisted, his gaze unwavering. "I mean it. You bring a brightness to the paddock that I can't quite explain."

Y/N laughed softly, “Well, um, thank you. That’s very kind. What can I say? I try my best.” She replied with a smile.

Another time, Y/N was in the team hospitality when she accidentally spilt her drink, leaving an obvious stain on her white shirt. Charles, who was, unsurprisingly, standing nearby (as always), had noticed immediately and courteously offered one of his extra Ferrari shirts. When he saw the girl he had liked for months in his clothes, wearing his driver’s number, he naturally couldn’t resist the urge to flirt with Y/N.

"Have I ever told you how stunning you look in red?" he remarked, his eyes sparkling with mischief and fondness at the sight of her.

Y/N laughed and replied, "No, I don't think you have," smiling at him in a friendly manner.

"Well, consider it said," he said, his tone playful. "You wear it better than anyone else, that's for sure."

Y/N laughed softly, appreciating her friend’s words, "I doubt that’s true, but thanks, Charles."

Thinking back to these moments, Y/N realised maybe Charles had indeed been flirting with her. However, he might just be like that with all of his friends, complimenting everyone he cares about. Nevertheless, now that Lando had brought this to her attention, she would surely pay extra attention to what Charles would say to her tomorrow.

— — —

The next day, Charles had caught her in a conversation again. They were talking about the race and the current situation with Ferrari. He mentioned the pressure from the team and all the fans that want him to do well, and that the car and the strategies aren’t working the way he wants them to. Of course, Y/N tried to reassure him; to relieve the pressure and stress Charles was feeling. He absolutely adored the way she was trying to comfort him and was not afraid to let her know, “I have to admit, Y/N, nobody can cheer me up like you can. You calm my nerves like no one else,” he said, looking at her lovingly while he expressed his feelings.

Y/N didn’t know how to respond. This was the first time she noticed he was flirting with her whilst he was actually doing it, and she had no idea how to react. When she felt her face heat up, she could only assume she was blushing from the nerves. She diverted her gaze, trying to come up with a good reply to Charles’s advances. How did she usually respond when Charles complimented her? She couldn’t remember now.

Charles was confused at Y/N’s lack of response to his remark. Normally, she’d immediately smile at him and thank him for whatever compliment he’d come up with, but now, she was looking away, and - was he seeing that right? Was she blushing? He had flirted with her countless times, but she had never blushed at any of his comments. Had she finally noticed his advances? Charles watched her with an amused smile while she searched for the right words.

Eventually, she shyly smiled at him, meeting his eyes in a fleeting glance before responding, “I’m glad to be of help.”

Charles, Charles, proud that he was the one to cause her flustered appearance, decided to push a little further, curious to see what would happen, “You really have no idea how much you mean to me, Y/N. Your support helps me so much.” Charles smiled gently and put his hand on her arm. When there’s no immediate response, he continues, “Anyway, I have to get ready for the race. I’ll see you later, yeah?” Y/N merely nodded and watched him walk away.

Her brother had been watching the interaction from a distance, observing the way his sister responded to Charles’s obvious flirting and, too, noticing the difference. “You finally figured it out, huh?” He said with a teasing smile. Y/N rolled her eyes at him in annoyance, but Carlos just continued, “You should let him know you like him too.” Y/N didn’t respond. “You do like him don’t you?” He asks, confused at her unresponsiveness. “Leave me alone, Carlos!” She replied, pushing her brother away. He laughed at her; that reaction was enough for him to know the answer to his question. He ruffled her hair and walked away, also needing to get ready for the race.

After her short talk with Charles, Y/N was sure that he liked her, but how to proceed? She could barely focus on the cars going around the track while all types of ideas were racing around in her head. What on earth was she supposed to do now? Should she wait until the next time Charles would flirt with her, or should she make the move instead? Considering Carlos’s advice, she decided she should take matters into her own hands.

She walked up to Charles as soon as she saw him entering the garage after the race. She had always thought Charles was incredibly attractive – like most women, but he looked especially handsome after he had raced.

“Hey, good job on the race!” She greeted Charles, pulling him into a hug. She looked at him for a second or two, contemplating whether she should actually do this. She smiled up at him shyly, “You know, I love the way your hair looks after a race.” She said blushing, running one of her hands through his messy hair. Charles is surprised at her comment, but he’s shocked at her hand in his hair. This is the first time she has complimented him – or at least, initiated it. Let alone, her touching him in such an intimate way. His eyes were wide and his mouth was slightly agape as he stared at her in disbelief. It was now Charles’s turn to be flustered as Y/N finally reciprocated his attempts at flirting.

In his silence, Y/N decided to continue, “It’s hot.” She said, avoiding eye contact. Charles was unsure how to respond. He had never experienced a situation like this before; he always knew exactly what to say, but she had caught him off guard. After Y/N had friend-zoned him countless times, he was definitely not expecting this; he was not sure what to do.

The absence of a reply only made Y/N more nervous. She distanced herself from him, letting her hand fall from his hair, realising she probably shouldn’t have touched him without permission. Charles was quick to notice her retreat and held her face to stop her from leaving. He raised her chin to make their eyes meet and asked her softly, “Let me take you to dinner?” while he stared at her with adoration.

Y/N smiled at him fondly and nodded her head, “I’d like that, Charles. I’d really like that.” 

“Good,” He said firmly, his smile growing wider, matching hers. “I have to leave now for the debrief, but I’ll text you, okay?” 

Y/N nodded her head in response, letting out a hum. Charles pulled her face closer with the hand on her cheek, and fleetingly kissed her forehead before leaving, looking over his shoulder to catch her gaze one last time.

Y/N stood still in shock for a while, processing what just happened. She had agreed to go on a date with Charles. She was staring outside, letting the situation sink in as she watched people pass by in the busy paddock. Suddenly, she spotted Lando waving wildly at her, trying to get her attention. When he realised that she had seen him, he smiled mischievously and gave her a thumbs-up, assuming the kiss he saw Charles give her was a good sign. Y/N rolled her eyes at him, annoyed by his nosiness, but Lando just laughed, amused at her bother and glad his meddling had helped.

[allfearstofallto]

if you’re still doing the yandere alphabet, could you do E,L,P,T,X, and Y for childe? no worries if not, I love ur writing! <3

I've definitely been wanting to write more of these!! Thank you so much!!!

Yandere! Childe x Fem! Reader

TW: Yandere, obsession, mentions of stalking

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Childe is open. More open than you'd want him to be and more open than you're willing to hear. You tend to not care about his back story or his interests, but he'll tell you regardless and you're forced to listen.

But if you do listen, really listen, really take in what he says, maybe you'll be able to see how much information he omits. Stories he laughs off like they're funny, are traumatizing in nature. The things he says are horrifying, scary in a way that would change a person permanently. 

He assures you that no such thing has happened with a playful smile, but you see the subtle twitch of his eyebrow and quiver of his lip. He's truthful, but not completely honest.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Childe is one of the few yanderes who's approach will be different based on where his standing is with you.

Know him as that one guy you met on the streets of Liyue, the one who was rather charming, but also rather persistent about seeing you again and he'll court you proper. The whole nine yards. He'll be the ideal boyfriend, albeit with a few quirks that can be brushed off. Mostly his fierce, protective jealousy and strangely short temper. 

Know him as the fatui harbinger? He'll also be just that. It's even worse if you owe money to the northland bank, a debt that he insists that you pay back with your affection rather than money. He won't even attempt to hide his true nature. You already know who he is and what he's capable of. Rather, he'll try to force you to fall in love with the real him, by any means necessary.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling? 

Patient as a fighter, patient at heart. Childe isn't inherently cruel. At least to you he's not. He'll give you time, space, conversation, whatever he thinks you may need to make you more comfortable. But that isn't him being generous. His patience comes with the expectation that you'll eventually fall into the role expected of you.

Refuse or even worse, actively fight him after all the kindness he's given you and you won't see that tolerance anymore. Expectations are higher with harsher consequences if not done when he wants, exactly how he wants. 

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Oh, does he hate that crying face of yours. He can't stand to see you sad, let alone actually sobbing. Each tear rolling down your cheek is like a stab to his heart, he can hardly bear the agony.

He's quick to console you when you cry, especially when he's the one who caused it. Although he can't help, but notice you tend to cry harder when he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a hug. Even though he hates your tears, he hates the disdain you have for him more. 

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Worship is a strong word. Childe loves you. Adores you. He does put you on a bit of a pedestal, believing you to be better than most people. But worship? Worship is a bit much.

Childe doesn't feel like he has to win you over. The depraved side of him believes he already owns you. Of course, you also own him as well, if you so desire. But because of that, his actions has him seeing you as almost an equal. Almost. There are still times where he loses himself in the desperation and desire to have you completely.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Like a fish needs water, like a man needs air, Childe yearns for you in a way that's animalistic in nature. Childe knows about you long before you know about him. 

“Snapping” is a term that can't entirely be used for him because of this. You can't really lose it if it was never really there. The second he saw you, the second he felt the way he did, the way you made his heart pound the same way it would if he were to be thrust into the throes of a fierce battle, he's already plotting how he plans to take you.

[puranami]

✿ Omelette ✿

A/N: A little fic based on one of the prompts I have~

Summary: Sanji finds you cooking an omelette in your underwear at an ungodly hour.

Content: Warning - my really bad attempt at writing anything outside of lil paragraph points (blz help, I have no idea what I'm doing)

Despite the scenario - it's all SFW and fluffy like dem eggs! A light dusting of pining, G/N reader. ✿

(Part 2) - (Part 3)

You had tried to sleep and ignore the rumbling in your stomach, but the harder you tried, the more you felt it, and you had finally reached your limit. If you were to be at all functional tomorrow, you needed to eat something. Only then could you try to sleep again.

Exhausted, you drag yourself from the safety and warmth of your blankets, slowly ambling towards the ship's kitchen, single-minded in your endeavour. All that mattered was appeasing your stomach, leaving you completely unaware of the sudden cold that embraced you once you had left the confines of your quarters.

Flicking on the kitchen light, you quickly gathered everything you needed, deciding that the best thing to make would be an omelette. It's an easy dish, filling, and doesn't take long to make. In other words; it was perfect!

You make quick work of prepping the eggs, seasoning to taste, even considering throwing a little cheese in there before deciding against it. It's not like you believed the myth of cheese giving people nightmares if eaten before bed, but you were so desperate to be able to sleep afterwards that you didn't want to risk it. Stranger things have happened on this ship.

The pan hisses as you pour in the eggs, sounding much louder in the empty kitchen, only amplified by the late hour.

"Don't you sass me," you grumble, "The middle of the night is a perfectly acceptable time for an omelette!"

Unbeknownst to you, you weren't the only one awake on the ship, and your late night excursion had attracted attention, clearly not having noticed any of the noise you were making.

"I thought Luffy had snuck in on a midnight raid with all the clattering," a groggy voice behind you laughs, but you are too tired and focused on cooking to even register that you had been joined by anyone. Sanji leans against the table opposite the kitchen island, fidgeting with the hem of his nightshirt, waiting for an answer that never came.

Surely you heard him, right?

"Is everything alright, darling?"

Nothing.

Terms of endearment usually prompted some kind of response, be it a dismissive laugh or an equally fond term of your own, clearly thinking they meant nothing in particular. He'd accepted pretty quickly that they wouldn't be the way to win you over, but it certainly didn't stop him using them, at least on you. The same couldn't be said about everyone else, as he was no longer vying for the affection of anyone but yourself. Sanji wondered if you'd ever noticed that.

A clumsy flip of the omelette brought him back into the moment, honestly surprised that you hadn't dropped it on the floor.

He moved his way to your side of the kitchen, round the central island toward the stovetop.

"Why are you cooking at this hhhh-" he wheezed at the end, only now seeing that you weren't in the pyjama bottoms he'd assumed you'd be wearing, but in your underwear.

He clasped one of his hands over his mouth, the other grabbing the island for support as he felt his legs begin to fail him. Keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the floor, he blurts out, "W-WHERE ARE YOUR PANTS?" as his face went fully crimson.

That finally gets your attention, but you are slow on the uptake, mind completely glazing over the fact that you had at some point gained an observer. Finally, furrowing your brows a little, you murmured a soft "What?" You knew a question was asked, but nothing else beyond that.

"Your pants, darling!" he gestures wildly, continuing to look down, knowing if that he caught sight of your bare legs again, he would lose his mind.

You stand there, pan hovering in the air away from the stove in one hand, a plate in the other, looking absolutely lost; you had completed your mission of acquiring omelette, and so your brain had decided it was no longer needed. Looking down, you see your legs and feet, wiggling your toes a little, then you look back up at the mess of a man in front of you, things finally starting to fall into place in your overtired mind.

"Oh, Sanji, what are you doing here," you ask, sweet as anything, completely ignorant to the battle he was waging internally. Once you plate your omelette, you place it on the island before putting the pan back on the stove to cool and grabbing a fork to tuck in, oblivious to Sanji frantically unbuttoning his night shirt beside you. He refuses to look directly at you until he has covered you with it, cheeks noticeably burning with how flustered he is.

"Darling, you can't do that to me," he says, almost breathless, "I am a weak, weak man; I can't handle seeing you so bare!" He manipulates your arms into the sleeves of his nightshirt, ignoring your protests when he briefly pulls the fork out of your hand in the process, before buttoning you up, doing his best to preserve your dignity.

As you feel the warm sustenance finally begin to settle in your empty stomach, you feel your brain booting back up, at least a little bit.

"Ah, shit I forgot to put on pants..." You giggle, wondering why everything was always funnier when you were tired. Taking another bite of food, you look down at your legs once again, starting to fully comprehend the situation you found yourself in. "I guess I was just too hungry." He can't help but sigh at how nonchalant you are.

Looking back up, your brain once again decides to abandon you, not from how tired you are this time, but from your eyes being met with his bare chest and abs, causing your own face to turn a charming shade of red. Sanji was always so neatly dressed, so he most you ever saw was his forearms when he rolled up his sleeves to work. It made sense that he was in good shape given his fighting ability, but it never really hit you until you saw his body tonight. There wasn't really any way to get accustomed to it, not like there was with someone like Zoro, who had his shirt off at least half the times you saw him, flashing his man tits whenever and wherever he damn well pleased.

Sanji's eyes never left you during this quiet minute, one that felt like hours, and he couldn't help but feel a hint of pride when he watched your eyes dance over his shirtless body, clearly flustered, bringing a confident smile to his face.

"Everything alright down there, sweetheart," he laughed softly.

You were clearly lost in your thoughts, it finally clicking why he was shirtless; he'd put his shirt on you. You brought a long sleeve up to your face as you dragged your eyes away, looking awkwardly to the side to your recently emptied plate. The shirt smelt like him, only without the lingering scent of cigarette smoke. It was sweet and musky. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but you felt a wave of feelings crash into you. Feelings you knew were there but had simply brushed aside, assuming they were just a result of his natural charm more than anything. But, you couldn't so easily disregard them now.

Sanji followed your gaze. "Ah, don't you worry about that, my dear," he says, grabbing the plate and bringing it to the sink, leaving you standing in a bit of a daze. "I'll take care of things here, so you go and get yourself back to bed, alright?"

"Oh, no!" You couldn't help how loud that ended up being, surprising the both of you. "You shouldn't have to clean up my mess," you say with a more regulated volume. If there's one way to get you back in the present, it's offering to do something you feel solely responsible for.

"In all fairness, darling, you shouldn't have been cooking in my kitchen in a state of undress," his cheeks started to go pink at the recent memory. He clears his throat before continuing, "Do you know how dangerous that is?" Ah, the professional chef just can't help himself when it comes to kitchen rules.

You pout slightly as you lean back against the centre island.

"Sorry, Sanji. I wasn't really with it. Too tired, too hungry..."

He makes quick work of the dirty items you had used, all while prattling on about safety and other things you probably should have listened to. Drying his hands, he makes his way back to you. It is evident you hadn't really been paying attention.

"At least promise me this," you look up at his warm, smiling face, "if you ever find yourself in this predicament again, please come and get me."

He brushes back some loose strands of hair, tucking them neatly behind your ear.

"You know that I'm always happy to cook for you, right? Whatever you want, whenever you want it."

Returning a gentle smile of your own, you nod.

"I promise."

With that, Sanji leads you out of the kitchen, plunging it back into darkness as he flicks the light off.

You reach his quarters first since he's closest to the kitchen. He pauses outside his door, hesitating for a moment. There are so many things he wanted to say to you, yet he couldn't bring himself to utter a single word.

Oblivious, you carry on toward your own room, turning back to him to wish him a good night, nearly falling over your own feet in the process, to which he smiles, letting out a soft chuckle.

"Bonne nuit, ma chère."

Guys, gals, and non-binary pals; I tried my best! This is my very first full fic ever, so if the grammar, wording, presentation, literally anything is bad; it's bc I am completely winging it! ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

[luxerians]

The Last Mask (17.2)

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

Chapter 17.2 - Keep You From Burning [NSFW]

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 18.2

PREV : Chapter 16

SFW ver. : Chapter 17.1

[Hwang In-ho’s Flashback…]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So much for ‘forced into it.’

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

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

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

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

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

With a neutral expression, In-ho pressed O.

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

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

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

In-ho’s eyes stayed on player 423.

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

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

***

“Help us then, sir.”

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

He just had to appeal to his ‘heroism.’

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

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

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

In-ho almost smirked.

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

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

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

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

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

“Triangle.”

“Which was the hardest?” 390 pressed.

“Umbrella.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nodded in understanding, her curiosity seemingly satisfied.

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

“Have you eaten already?” she asked casually.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The two men nodded in unison, seemingly satisfied.

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's when he decided to intervene.

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

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

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

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

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

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

All In-ho had to do was wait.

However, he didn’t take you into account.

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

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

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

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

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

Warmth.

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

Before he lost her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

[Back to present…]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you weren’t about to let that happen.

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

“This is the second time you did this.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your brow furrowed. “Gi-hun?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His silence was deafening.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SFW ver. : Chapter 17.1

NEXT : Chapter 18.2

PREV : Chapter 16

Story Masterlist

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

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

[lovrre]

Agreement prt1

Art Donaldson x Fem black reader

Warnings: cursing, infidelity(kinda), slight smut (fingering) sub ish Art. Slight he loves her more trope, needy Art and probably some other stuff

Word count: 2k

Summary: Despite being engaged to one of the top and richest tennis players in the US, you feel unfulfilled. But everything changes when you transfer schools and meet Art Donaldson, who just can’t quit you.

Author note: GUYS GUYS, PLEASE DON’T KILL ME. MY WRITERS BLOCK HAS BEEN SO BAD YOU DONT UNDERSTANDDD, But I’m finishing all my requests and unfinished fics soon so stay tuned. 😚

Sitting on the bed in your brand new silk pajamas, you found yourself distracted, just like you had been the day before and the day before that. You played with The edge of the book you were attempting to read,mindlessly repeated the last sentence over and over in your head trying to retain anything. The loud television and the whirring of the ceiling fan only added to the chaos. Plus the freezing cold air conditioning of the hotel room made it impossible to concentrate.

In a desperate attempt to regain some semblance of focus, you clumsily reached for the remote, hoping to silence at least one of the distractions. your eyes falling on your fiancé who was sleeping peacefully, his dark hair all messy, in his crisp white t-shirt that matched perfectly to the expensive hotel sheets, he looked so sweet,so innocent. You thought if he slept more, maybe everything could work out

Mike slept while snuggled into your side. Like he often did when you two shared a bed, You had attempted to remove him several times but every time he ended right back at your side so you gave up, In any other scenario his action would seem romantic but they only made you feel worse than you were already feeling. In an effort to relieve some guilt you liked to reminded yourself your engagement was never out of love but business. But then again the line did blur in the beginning of your relationship. Before you left for Stanford, you and Mike got caught up in the act of pretending be in love.

After that you could never really tell real from fake with him, he didn’t like you talking to other men. He’d shower you with really expensives grift but then leave town and not answer your calls or text for days. But when no one was watching he’d try to hug and kiss you. The whole thing was confusing, You had known idea how he persived your relationship but you knew You Felt guilty, without all the technicallys, you knew that you still lied,

The people ate up the role you and Mike played. occasionally you’d have to leave campus and go out in public holding hands or sharing kisses in the rain. But it was all for show, at least on your end. Your Dad made sure to reminded you That, it was the love sick tennis player in love with his coaches daughter that sold tickets. kept the stands full of women hoping to catch the world win romances in action. Also Brought in a large number of his clientele. He promised It wouldn’t be forever unless you wanted to be. And Really how could you complain? 20 years old engaged to One of the wealthiest and most talented tennis players in the world and he wasn't bad looking either. Before all this, you weren't too keen on love anyway, so what were you really missing out on?

~~~

Ten months before

Patrick serves but Art's attention is elsewhere. The ball zooms past Art for the second time, prompting Patrick to turn around and finally see who's behind him. His gaze lands on you, playing tennis alone on a smaller court. The sun shining off your smooth, glistening skin, and your pink tennis dress gracefully flowing with each jump and run.

"Oh, I get it," Patrick chuckles, glancing back at Art. "She's hot. You should talk to her, maybe offer her a lesson. She could use it," Patrick suggests, looking back at you as you let another tennis ball from the machine fly past you . "I think I've seen her somewhere before," Patrick mutters, tapping his racket against his leg.

Still in a daze, Art jogged over to your court. "Oh, you're serious," Patrick murmured watching as he went over to you following closely behind him. "Hi," Art greets, slightly out of breath walking up to the net. "Hi?" you respond, slightly confused, giving him a small wave.

"Are you new here?"

"To the school or the court?" You ask

"Both."

"I'm new to both” you say a little breathless wiping sweat from your forehead.

“I just transferred," you explain.

"Where did you go before?"

"A small community college in Virginia."

"What about tennis?"

"You have a lot of questions," you laugh, tapping your tennis racket against your leg.

"Im just curious “Art jokes.

"I'm just doing this because my fiancé is a tennis player. I thought I'd try to learn," you reveal.

“Finance?” Art questions.

“Yep”

“ how old are you like 20?”

“ actually 19, I turn twenty in a couple months”

“And you're getting married?” Art asked clearly dumbfounded

“Yes” you laugh at his forwardness

", is he a pro or college?", Art asked, assuming the answer would be college.

“Pro," you replied, letting your curls fall freely from your hair tie. Art couldn't help but admire how beautiful you were,too young to be tied down

"Anyone we would know?" Art asks following you as you walk over to the bench with your tennis bag. "Hmm, maybe," you hum, sitting down to tie your shoe. "Mike Fitts."

"Your fiancé is Mike Fitts!" Patrick exclaims a little too loudly. "Mhmm," you confirm, starting to tie your other shoe. "If Mike Fitts is your fiancé, why are you here?"

"Are you referring to the court or the school?" you ask, looking up at both Art and Patrick.

"Both," Art and Patrick respond in unison.

You chuckled as you stuffed your tennis racket into your bag. "Well, whether I'm engaged or not, I always planned to graduate college. And Mike is too busy right now to teach me, so I'm trying to teach myself."

The two of them nod in understanding as you stand up. "It was really nice meeting both of you, but I have class," you announce, throwing your tennis bag over your shoulder. "By the way, it would be great if you guys could keep the whole fiancé thing on the down low. I'm trying to keep it as quiet as possible for now."

"Yeah, no problem," one of them replies.

"Of course," the other adds.

"Thanks, I really appreciate it," you say giving them a small smile before turning around to leave the court.

just as you're about to walk away, Art calls out after you, "Wait! You said you're trying to learn, right? we could coach you if you want” Patrick gives him a look and Art ignores it waiting for your response.

You pause, considering the offer.

”the both of you?” you asked gesturing between them. Art gives you a nod. at that moment The risk didn't seem too big so you said

. "Sure," with small shrug

"How about tomorrow at 12:30?" you suggest, checking the pink Bvlgari watch Mike got you.

"Perfect," Art responds with a shit eating smile

“Ok see you guys ” you laugh walking out the court

~~~~~~

“Yeah see” Patrick says reading a newspaper. “Olympic coach, Dylan yLn, Daughter engaged to Olympics gold medalist Mike fitts” Patrick reads next to a photo of you and Mike smiling as you showed off your huge

engagement ring. “She wasn’t bull shitting”

“Let me see” Art says grabbing the newspaper. “She didn't have on her engagement ring when we saw her...” Art trails off

“You can't be serious” Patrick laughs

“What?”

“She’s engaged Art, not to anyone either,” Patrick leaned in on the table so only he could hear. “she’s engaged Mike Fitts!”

“I didn't say anything,” Art defends

“ you don't have to” Patrick says stealing a fry off Arts plate plopping it in him mouth.

”I know you,”

~~~~~

After that day, everything seemed to blend together. Art and Patrick dedicated themselves to training you throughout the weekdays for three entire months until you got tired of it and decided on once a week. You told Mike you found a coach but never told him who. Since they were kinda the only people you knew in the entire school, the three of you grew close fast. You started going out to bars and parties together. you had your most memorable college moments with the two of them. And then, your birthday arrived. Patrick had left for some torment and it was just you and Art.

You two were just having so much fun that night. On thing led to another And before you realized it, the two of you were constantly having “fun together”. It didn't matter where - in the dorm, in the shower, or even on the floor. It was bad, but you two couldn't stop

Trying to clear your mind you Let out a sigh. you carefully remove Mike from your side sitting up to taking a sip of you're water on the nightstand. Trying to ignore the ache of your core. This is how you spent every night away from him, needy, uncomfortable. You heard a knock at the door which almost caused you to spill water on yourself. You Quickly put your drink down and run to answer it before the person could knock again careful to be quiet not to wake up Mike.

You swung the door open to find Art standing there, hair slightly damp, with huge smile on his face. "Are you out of your mind?" you whisper, stepping out of the room and shutting the door quietly behind you. You can't help but notice his thin athletic hoodie and gym shorts. Slightly wet clinging to his skin as if he just stepped out of the shower.

"It's past one ,"Art huffed out , his voice filled with urgency and desire as he leaned in for a kiss. his hand gently cradling the side of your face in the process.

When the realization of what was happening washed over you, you pulled away, but still stayed close enough to feel his breath against your skin. "Art," you breathed out, eyes darting down the hall to check if anyone saw. Your hand instinctively found its place on his strong chest, you savored the feeling and the look of your manicured nails there, not knowing when you be able to do it again.

"I like these," Art hummed, playing with the hem of your pajama shorts. He rolled the fabric between his fingers, his big hand gracing you thighs in the process. The little touch sent shivers down your spine. You somehow composed yourself pushing him away gently with your index finger, creating some distance between you two.

He looked at you with sad eyes like a rejected puppy. "Mike’s sleeping inside," you whisper, worried someone could hear. "What does that mean?"

There was a long pause as you carefully choose your next words. Art stared at you intently, trying to decipher your expression. "You slept with him?” Art asks, as if he already knew the answer.

"No, I didn't sleep with him!” You whisper yelled, “He just showered and fell asleep," you explained,

"What's bothering you then?"

"I feel guilty."

"You didn't feel guilty at Stanford."

"Mike wasn't at Stanford."

“You care about Mike's feelings now ?" Art's asks furrows his brow, his voice filled with a mix of confusion and hurt.

" I don’t know… he’s been nicer lately and were supposed to be married in three days”

“You’re actually thinking about going through with it?” Art asked the hurt now evident in his voice.

“There’s nothing I can do now, I signed contracts, this isn’t just about us anymore I’ve told you this”

“What about the private investors?”

"That's just a 'what if,' a perfect 'what if,' but we don't even know if he's seeing someone."

“ If I win tomorrow?”

“Art If you win are lose tomorrow it doesn’t change anything, my Dad expects me at the alter on Sunday regardless, nothings gonna change that”

“But you don’t love him ”

“ I could” your words come out more a question, maybe a hope. “I loved you?”

“You love me” Art corrects

"There's too much at stake now, Art. This is my father's career. We don't come from money, this is all he has."

“You honestly believe this will ruin his career?”

“It could” you reply with a small shrug your voice cracking slightly.

“It won’t” Art response

“You don’t know that”

“ Don’t do this ” Art whispered closing the small space between you. He sounded so tortured, like he was pleading with you.

you hadn't realize it but tears welled in your eyes Threatening to spill any moment. When You blinked an a tear fell down your cheek. Art tenderly brushed it away with his thumb. The stress of the last two weeks had finally caught up to you. “it wasn’t supposed to be this hard” you murmured, your voice barely audible, tears streaming down your face as Art wiped them away.

“Do you love me?” his questions sounded genuine but you knew, he already knew the answer. ”more than i’d like to” you joke, using the back of your hand to dry your eyes.

“Then let me make you feel better,” Art whispered leaning down so he was directly above your ear.

“You’re right about what you said earlier, Mike wasn’t there at Stanford”. He paused for a second moving a piece of your hair out the way, “I was,” he hummed brushing his face against yours “just me and you” he whispered leaving a trail of kisses on the outside of your earlobe down your neck. Causing Your breath catch in your throat .“We had fun right?” Art question, his voice deep and breathy causing you to instinctively press your legs together as you leaned back against the door. “Art” you mumble trying to shake the sexual haze that was swirling inside you.

“I missed you” he whispered his free hand slinking up the side of you short griping your thigh, hiking your leg up slightly. “So bad…All day”

“we can't” you manage to breathe out unconvisingly.

“I’ll beg,”

“Art” you warned

“I’ll do anything baby” he mumbles leaving slowly kisses on your neck. “Anything you want me to” he says kissing under your chin. “ I need you” he hums kissing down your neck, ”don’t you need me?” Art asked kissing below your ear. You don't respond giving small nodd biting the inside of your lip. “Can I hear it?” Art asked, the way his voice sounded so desperate, Damn near whiney had you looking for friction. ”I need you so fucking bad” you basically moan pushing your body against his.

“I love you so much you don't understand” Art said smiling against you cheek. sliding his free hand down the front of your shorts. He rubs his fingers through your folds collecting your wetness on his fingers. You throw your head back with a quiet moan, quickly biting your lip to silence yourself. “Fuck your so wet” Art groans before pulling his hand from your shorts, sucking his fingers clean like it was second nature. You clenched around nothing at the sight.

“I missed that taste” he groans returning his hand to your heat. “Can I make you cum right here” Art huffed out peeping down the hall.

"Yea,” you breathed out, nodding your head feverishly. He could have asked you to drive to the moon in that moment, and you would have said yes. Art slowly pushed two fingers inside of you creating a medium pace before bringing his thumb to rub your clit, you moan lifting your hips to meet his fingers. “Fuck I could eat you out right here” Art groaned watching you Practically fuck yourself on his fingers. “Promise me you won't ever let him see you like this” Art goans leaving kisses on your collar done. “this is mine”

”You can bearly hear a word he's saying the feeling of his thumb on your clit and finger damn near touching you cervix was too much to bear. “I’m gonna cum” you moaned out grabbing Arts shoulder hard in an effort to ground yourself. “I can feel it,” Art breathed pressing his forehead against yours. He presses down harder on your clit causing you to buck into his fingers, letting out a loud moan You cum. his movement don't falter, he continues to pump them in and out while still rubbing your clit until he feels like you've finally had enough.

he removes his fingers from your pussy returning them to his mouth. “I’ll never get tired of that” Art laughs leaning in for a kiss, you return it, taste yourself on his lips. He gently places you leg back on the floor and you stumbled slightly grading his shoulder for balance. He instantly goes to your waist holding you steady. “You ok?” Art ask slight consern on his face. You don't respond afraid of what your voice would sound like after an orgasm like that.

You nod with a smile and Art led you to the hotel room directly next to yours, pulling out a key card from his pocket with a grin.

“You didn't,” you exclaimed as he opened the door.

“I did,” he replied, motioning for you to enter.

“How did you even know our room number?” you ask, stepping inside.

“I have my ways,” he answered, closing the door behind you.

“How did you afford this?” you asked, looking around.

“Are you going to keep ask questioning or are you going to take of your clothes” Art laughs , watching as you sit on the bed.

“You first,” you countered, settling back .

“Yes ma’am,” Art chuckled, starting to undress.

~~~~

Morning arrives and you found yourself back in your original room. Mike was in the bathroom getting ready while you fix your dress in the mirror of the bedroom. As you adjust the straps, you notice a hickey you hadn't seen before, one you forgot to cover up after coming back last night. You laid your hair over it and walk towards the bathroom to retrieve your makeup bag, slightly tripping as your sore legs gave out on you. "You good?" Mike asked, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, I think I'm just sore from tennis practice," you say, reaching past him to get your makeup bag.

"You know no one expects you to play," Mike laughs while drying his hair with a towel. "I'm not doing it for anyone, I want to learn," your words come out more offended than you intended. "I just mean you could spend your time doing something else."

"Like what?" You respond plainly, walking out of the bathroom back to the mirror. "Like calling your dad and asking him what time he'll be here," Mike says from the now open bathroom. "Is your phone not working?" You asked rhetorically, pulling out your concealer . "I don't want to fight today, okay," Mike Replies sternly, looking at you through the reflection of the mirror. "This is a big match," he mumbles while running his toothbrush under the water.

"I thought you said it was going to be 'nothing,'" you chuckle dryly, applying the concealer as his face was turned. "It is, but from what your Dad's been saying, he's been getting good. So I'd like to be on my A-game and not have you trying to start shit."

"Whatever you want honey" you respond, quietly laughing in disbelief. He had resorted right back to his old ways,How could you ever agree to marry someone like him, someone so vastly different from the man you spent the night with.

~~~~

soon as you and Mike were finished getting ready, your father called you to come downstairs to join him for breakfast. You and Mike both stood in line, slightly overdressed, picking out your favorite breakfast items. Mike only getting French toast, disregarding his strict diet. Suddenly, you heard a familiar laughter and turned around to see Art chatting with your father near the entrance. Your heart sank as your father motioned for you both to come over. After dropping off your plates, you and Mike walked towards them, feeling Mike's hand slip around your waist.

"I'd like you to meet someone," your father announced with a smile, putting his arm around Art's shoulder. "This is Art Donaldson," he introduced, "the man I'm competing against today." Mike stated extending his hand for a handshake, and Art reciprocated. Your stomach churned at the sight. "This is Mike, you know him, he's also my daughter's fiancé." Your father says with a smile.

"Stressful, huh?" Art jokes. "Oh, you have no idea," your Dad replies, laughing. "You're both at the same college, right? Stanford?" your Dad asked, nodding towards you. “maybe you could try your luck at training her because I just can't get through," your dad jokes. Art's eyes rake over you, as if looking at you for the first time. "It be my pleasure" Art smiles, looking directly at you. You to discreetly warn him with your eyes but You notice Mike's grip on your waist tighten, clearly not pleased. "Actually, I've been training y/n already, she's improving every day," Mike says, planting a quick kiss on your head.

"Really?" Art inquires, trying to keep up the act to the best of his abilities. "Monday through Friday," Mike replies with a smug grin. “How do you manage with your Busy schedule?” Art asks tilting his head to the side slightly in the process.

“You find time for the people you love,” Mike says with a fake smile. You had to physically hold back your laugh. But you played it off as wiping your face. He had taken a line straight from media training. Silence filled the air as the two have a silent conversation with their eyes.

“Well I wanted to introduce all of you, as I will officially be coaching Art starting next fall,"

Your Dad says in an attempt to break the tension. But it only makes it worse, Somehow Mike's grip on you tightened even more, now you were concerned he’d leave a bruise . "When did you make this decision?" Mike asked, his face showing no emotion but you could tell he was angry. "two weeks ago, and I've been waiting for the right moment to properly introduce you two. I know the timing is awkward with the match, but it's better to do it now than later."

Mike doesn’t say anything giving an expressionless nod. There was another awkward pause before you decided to speak up. "It was nice meeting you…Art?" you trail off , purposely sounding unsure. He nodded with a knowing smile. "But our food is getting cold," you joked, trying to escape the suffocating tension. "I wouldn't want to keep the couple from their food," Art said, while a smiling again only looking directly at you. You wanted to scream, he was being so obvious and the way Mike was already acting, you knew you wouldn’t hear the end of it. "You two eat, I have to go handle some things, I won’t be long" your father said, gesturing for you and Mike to sit at the table before walking off with Art.

Once the two of you sit back at the table you feel caught. "I don't want you near that guy," Mike says, taking a sip of his coffee. You roll your eyes and stab at your scrambled eggs. “He was basically eye fucking you the whole time, and it doesn’t help that your dress is so tight”

“I think you forget sometimes this isn’t real,” you reply, taking a bite.

"Lower your voice," Mike warns, glancing around to see if anyone heard.

"You didn't care about it being real when you accepted the gifts," he scoffs, "or in Virginia."

"It was once, Mike. And every day, you make me regret it."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. You don't get to control me just because you buy me shit. Anyone can buy me shit."

“I told you i’m not doing this with you today” Mike laughs dryly standing up from the table. "I'll see you later, okay babe?" he says a bit louder, forcing a fake smile as he plants a kiss on your head before walking away. You try your best not to flinch when he touches you. Once he's gone, your phone buzzes, and you glance down to see an unsaved number. It's a text from Art.

“meet me at the restaurant next door in 20, alone.”

Author note : GUYS FEEL FREE TO COMMENT I LOVE READING COMMENTS

[angelshizuka]

The worst part about Stolas haters giving Stolas shit for "choosing Blitz over Via" is the fact that they're the exact same people who would've 100% given Stolas just as much shit if he had let Blitz die at the execution (based on the fact they've already taken literally every chance possible to give Stolas shit for his actions having to do with Blitz, no matter how big or small they were).

Filed under: Stolas can never win, he is damned if he does and damned if he doesn't to these people.

How tf do they ever expect us to take their "critisism" seriously, when they keep proving over and over again they just want to hate Stolas for the sake of hating Stolas, no matter what he does.

Like, the least they can do is just admit Stolas' character isn't for them, their back will thank them for it when they finally stop bending it backwards so much in a desperate attempt to justify the simple fact of just not liking a character.