#is this what having a crush feels like???

[hanniebaeee]

Feral Puppy

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MDNI

Genre: colleagues/friends to lovers, fluff, smut

Summary: Hyunjin has the hugest crush on you, and you've been trying to avoid any workplace drama. He's an idol after all. But what are you supposed to do when this feral puppy is totally invested in winning you over?

a/n: Sweaty Jinnie is a weakness 🤭🤭🤭

You sat at your desk, deep in work. The office was quiet this early in the morning, except for the rhythmic tapping of keys. You were so focused on your task that you barely noticed the group of boys passing by your little cubicle.

That is, until a soft thud caught your attention.

You glanced up, just in time to see a certain dark haired menace dropping a cupcake onto your desk - perfectly adorable with heart-shaped sprinkles, no less.

Hyunjin flashed you a wink that could make anyone melt. And you? You were trying so hard to not react. 

You could feel your heart skip a beat, and you sighed in exasperation, your cheeks heating up. Felix who was passing by gave you a wink. 

“Honestly, I don’t know if I should be flattered or embarrassed.” you muttered, and Felix snorted in response. 

"A little bit of both, I think." He said, picking off a sprinkle and popping it in his mouth.

You couldn’t help but laugh, because Hyunjin had been trying to get your attention for months. He was always sneaking little treats or flowers to your desk, or winking at you as you passed each other in the hallways.

It was adorable in the most frustratingly complicated way, especially since you were colleagues - technically- and it was strictly against the company policy. Especially since he was an idol and all that. 

But you still felt a rush of affection that made your heart ache. Hyunjin was too cute, and you hated that you had to keep it professional.

---

It was just a little after lunch that you had walked into the practice room to have a word with Chan. You've been bracing yourself for impact, because you know what a feral puppy he could be sometimes. 

The second you entered, naturally his head snapped around - he’d caught a whiff of your perfume. His eyes locked onto yours, and you could see the way his whole body seemed to tense.

"Down, boy!" Changbin barked, grabbing Hyunjin by the collar just as he took an eager step forward.

But Hyunjin just growled, still looking at you with those wide, pleading eyes.

"I just need to see her face," he insisted, his voice a little too dramatic, and oh dear, lets just say it hit you just at the right spot.

Felix was leaning against the wall now, clearly entertained.

"Bro, her face is your phone wallpaper," he teased with a wink.

The comment made you blush harder than you ever had in front of these idiots. Your eyes darted to Chan, who was supposed to be the mature one here. And now the said mature one was desperately trying to stifle his laughter.

You gave him a glare and he just shrugged, like there was nothing he could do to stop this chaos.

“Chan, are you serious right now?!” You hissed and he cleared his throat trying to regain some seriousness. 

But before he could respond, Changbin was back at it, pulling Hyunjin back by the shoulder.

"Nope," he said, shaking his head. "Down, puppy, down."

You couldn't help the little chuckle that left your lips.

God, you loved him. It was undeniable. But there was no way you could get involved with him, not with all the rules in place. You just had to keep pretending that his antics weren’t making your heart flutter in the most inappropriate of ways.

"You’re such a menace, you know that?" You muttered, shaking your head at Hyunjin. 

Hyunjin's eyes sparkled with mischief as he said, "If that means getting your attention, then I’ll gladly wear that title."

Your poor heart screamed at that, because honestly, you loved every minute of it.

And so did he.

A few days later, you found yourself staying late at the office, finishing up some urgent reports. You were surrounded by an ominous stillness, because you were the only one left working on your floor and it was getting a little creepy by the moment.

You sent your emails quickly, packed up in record speed and bolted out of your workspace. But as soon as you turned the corner, you walked straight into a wall of muscle.

You froze, heart skipping a beat as you looked up slowly. And seeing Hyunjin’s sweaty, disheveled face staring back at you, you let out a sigh of relief.

That didn't last long because this exactly was your biggest…undoing. Sweat soaked Hyunjin was a weakness you didn't even like to discuss with yourself. 

His shirt was soaked through, clinging to his body, and you could actually see the muscles in his chest through it. His damn hair fell messily around his face, and there's a sheen of sweat on his forehead, making him look like some kind of god sent from another realm.

His wide eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you moved. You looked away quickly, absolutely embarrassed, but the damage was already done.

You could feel the string of control inside you stretching taut, ready to snap. 

Hyunjin watched you with a predatory gleam in his eyes. Not aggressive. No, it’s playful - and so damn hot.

“Didn’t expect to run into you tonight,” he said, his voice husky. 

You forced yourself to look up at him, and for a second, you both just stared at each other. Your body was screaming for release, but your brain was holding on.

You couldn’t cross that line. Not when it could ruin everything.

"I…uh, didn’t mean to startle you," you managed, your voice trembling just a little too much for your liking.

His scent is intoxicating, a mix of sweat and his cologne. And pheromones or whatever. 

"Startled?" he teased, his lips curling into a smile. "You’re staring. Are you sure you didn’t come to see me?"

"I-I wasn’t staring," you stammered, but you couldn’t even look him in the eye. You were so aware of every inch of him right now - it was like the droplets of sweat trickling down his skin were begging for your attention. 

"You're not fooling anyone, you know," he murmured, his voice dipping lower, sending a wave of heat shooting straight to your core. "You’re trying not to break, but I think it’s too late for that."

“Hyunjin-”

"How long are you going to pretend you don’t want this?" he asked, his words heavy with desire, making your heart race faster. "I can’t be the only one who feels it."

You swallowed hard, your hands trembling, your resolve completely gone. You wanted him so badly, it hurt. And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want to fight it anymore.

Seeing that he has tormented you enough, Hyunjin pulled back just slightly, giving you a playful look that said, I’ll let you off the hook for now. 

"You’re so annoying," you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

He just smiled, completely unfazed, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "Am I?"

The next few days were a nightmare. The lingering, burning tension that Hyunjin’s created between you two was literally frying your insides. And let's be real. Seeing him in all his sweat soaked glory, you were so unbearably turned on. 

Seeing you at the edge of your own self control, has unleashed something in him. He knows you were just as interested. That little moment? He was holding onto it. 

So you did the best thing - the only thing at this point - avoiding him. You asked Chan to meet at a conference room for a quick chat when it was necessary. Or you generally didn't venture towards the practice room. 

You’ve learned to keep your distance, at least a little. And you hoped that Hyunjin wouldn't notice. But Hyunjin was not having it. No. He was making it his personal goal to make sure nothing went unnoticed.

---

You were walking through the hallway, minding your business, trying to get to the elevator. You heard the footsteps behind you too late. You could swear you felt the heat of his presence before you even saw him.

Hyunjin, being the menace he was, barreled into you out of nowhere, pressing you up against the wall in a move that was so absolutely ridiculous that for a split second, you wondered if you were dreaming.

“What the hell, Hyunjin?!” you exclaimed, flailing as you try to regain your balance, your palms slapping against the cold wall.

You're heart raced and you glanced around feeling kind of dazed. But Hyunjin just stood there, smirking, totally unbothered.

“What?” he said innocently, his body still pressed against yours. “There’s not enough space to pass.”

“Are you serious?!” You flailed again, trying to step aside, but he just shifted his body to keep you pinned, making it impossible to escape. 

“Oh my God, Hyunjin, move!” You were flushed, not just from the physical contact, but from the audacity of it all. You didn’t even know if you were angry, embarrassed, or completely turned on. 

He looked down at you, his eyes glittering with something so mischievously feral.

“I know you don't mind, sweetheart,” he said, and you groaned internally. How did he keep doing this? The way he was so confident, so sure of himself. 

“Hyunjin, please.” You tried to get him to step back, but it’s like he’s glued to you.

“I didn't even do anything,”

Oh the nerve!

You tried to wiggle away, but his arms came up on either side of you, trapping you even further. You’re caught, pressed against the wall with nowhere to go, and his body is all around you.

“Let me go, Hyunjin,” you breathed, but it’s almost a plea now. “There are cameras everywhere!”

His grin widened as he watched you, and said, “Oh is there?”

You let out a soft growl of frustration, realizing you’ve lost all sense of control. Your grip on his shirt tightened, and Hyunjin bit his bottom lip seductively. Your were trembling in his arms. 

Maybe that was what he was aiming for, because he dropped his arms and took a step back. 

You quickly scrambled away, muttering curses under your breath as you speed-walked away. And Hyunjin watched you go, that mischievous smirk never leaving his face. 

“See you around, sweetheart,” he calls out after you.

Hyunjin has successfully invaded every corner of your mind that you had so meticulously disciplined against doing exactly that. 

The teasing. The tension. Oh the need - it's been eating you alive. You couldn’t focus at work. You couldn’t go anywhere without your heart hammering at the thought of him. 

You’ve tried to ignore it, tried to compartmentalize it, but the truth is - you were well past the point of no return.

And then, of course, it happens again.

It was another late night at the office - one you tried so hard to avoid, but here you were. You were discreet and quiet.

You thought you'd made it. That this time you’d escaped his clutches. But as you walked down the dimly lit hallway, your heart just started to race again.

Because of course, he was coming toward you from the other side. And he stopped in front of you, his hands stuffed into his pockets. 

"Are you trying to avoid me?" he asked, his voice so low and husky, you wanted to jump off a cliff.

You swallowed hard, shaking your head as you said, “Why would I do that?”

Your voice wavered worse than a leaf in a storm. 

“Just making sure you don’t get any ideas,” he whispered - his face was so close now that you can feel his breath on your lips.

You were so damn tempted to lean in just a little. You shouldn’t. You couldn't.

“You know, I’m waiting for you to crack, baby,” he murmured. “Just let go, you know you want to.”

Your heart raced and flipped and fluttered all at once, and you could feel the heat creeping up your neck. You tried to step back but obviously there's nowhere to go. But he followed, matching your every movement.

“Hyunjin,” you said his name so softly, a breathless sound that made his eyes flash with something darker, something predatory. “Please, just-”

But he was done playing nice. His hand came up to gently hold your chin, lifting your face so you couldn't look away and you were forced to meet his gaze.

“You think you can just keep running from me?” he breathed, stepping impossibly closer. “If you didn't want me, you would've said that by now. But you keep me hanging, and I'm just about done with that.”

And that was when you lost it.

Before you knew what you were doing, your hand came up to grip the back of his neck, pulling him closer. His lips crashed against yours, desperate, unrestrained. The kiss was hot, messy - all tongue and teeth.

And it was everything you’ve wanted.

He groaned into the kiss, his hands sliding down to your waist, pulling you even closer. His body was hard and slick with sweat, and you could feel the heat radiating from every inch of him. 

His lips trailed down your neck, making you gasp as he kissed the sensitive skin just below your ear.

“Told you,” he whispered against your skin, his breath hot. “I knew you couldn’t keep pretending.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips  slightly swollen from the kiss. 

“I need to hear it, okay?” he said, his voice low and filled with promise. “Tell me you want this too.”

You looked at him, your breath coming in shallow pants. You were done pretending.

“No more running,” you whispered. “I want you too…”

And Hyunjin gave you a smile so radiant, you could die happily at the moment.

“Come on,” He said, taking your hand and pulling you away. “Let's go somewhere safe.”

A room next to their studio. Barely used. Kind of dusty. But it worked.

The minute you stepped in, his lips were on yours. He had you pressed up against the cold wall of the unused office, your bodies tangled together in an almost desperate need. Your hands tugged at his shirt, trying to get it off, and he didn’t even hesitate, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. 

His hands roamed over you, caressing, groping, pulling you closer as if he was starving for you. 

“God, I love you-” He growled, his hands sliding down to your hips, pulling you into him. The heat  radiating off his body and the feel of every muscle flex beneath his skin - you were blinded by it. 

His hands were sliding up your sides, tugging at your clothes, as if he was hungry to see every inch of you. You gasp when his fingertips grazed the skin of your waist, as he took off your shirt. 

"Hyunjin..." you whispered, breathless, the sound of his name escaping your lips like a prayer. 

"You’re so fucking beautiful," he growled, his lips finding their way down down chest. His fingers pulled down the cup of your bra, as he pressed soft kisses around the flesh. 

Your lips parted, but no words came out, just breathy gasps as his lips wrapped around your nipple. The soft scrape of his teeth on your skin made you shiver, and you couldn't stop the low moan that escaped from deep in your chest.

“Fuck baby,” he moaned against your skin, his breath hot, sending goosebumps across your body.

“Hyunjin,” you gasped, tugging him closer, your hands finding his waistband of his sweats. He groaned, clearly as desperate as you are, and his lips crashed back to yours. His tongue sweeped over yours, and you lost yourself in the kiss.

His hands moved down to your waist, his grip tightening as he lifted you effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you felt how hard he was for you. 

He carried you effortlessly toward the desk in the corner of the room. Placing you on the edge of the desk, his hands trailed up your thighs as he leaned in to kiss you again. You couldn't stop the trembling in your body as you pulled him closer. 

Hyunjin’s hands move quickly, pulling off the rest of your clothes. His dark eyes take in your body, pupils blown wide with lust. 

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his hands sliding over the exposed skin of your tummy. 

“Hyunjin… now.” you said desperately, pulling at his pants again, and they're gone in a flash. 

When he finally stood completely bare before you, the sight of him sent a shock of heat straight through your body. He was so beautiful - every inch of him. 

His eyes never left yours as he positioned himself between your legs, his hands gripping your waist as he brought you closer to him. You felt his hard length pressed against you, and you whimpered softly at the thought of what’s about to happen.

“I need you,” you whispered, your hands running through his hair, pulling him in for another kiss. “Now.”

And with that, Hyunjin moved, spreading your legs and pushing into you slowly. You shivered as he filled you completely, stretching you out.

You gazed up at him, the beads of sweat (he was sweating again - again) trickling down the side of his face. 

“Oh my God,” You whined softly, closing your eyes, and he grinned, a chuckle escaping his lips. He began to move, slipping in and out of you with every thrust. Your hands gripped at the edges of the desk, trying to steady yourself as the pleasure built between you both.

You were so wet, and Hyunjin couldn't stop looking at where you two were connected, and with a frustrated sigh, he pulled out completely. 

You gasped and stared up at him, as he grabbed your legs and pulled you more to the edge and then, his face was in between your thighs. 

You almost shrieked - because that was absolutely unexpected. He wasn't wasting any time, his tongue lapping at your dripping folds and nudging your clit. Your hand landed on his hair, pulling at it gently and Hyunjin hummed - the vibrations of it making you drip even more.

“Hyun… Hyunjin!” You moaned, as he licked softly over your clit and nibbled on it gently making your breath catch. 

It didn't take long for your first orgasm to crash down over you, and when Hyunjin straightened, he had the most satisfied grin on his face. 

“You're so sweet, baby,” He cooed and you were sure your cheeks were at least two shades redder than before. “I couldn't resist it.”

You laughed, a tired one at that and he laughed with you before stepping in between your legs again. He ran his hands up and down your thighs and you watched, breathing heavily. 

“Can I?” He asked softly, and you nodded with a smile. 

It felt deliciously good when he slipped in this time, and the rhythm between you was slow at first -  tender - but it didn't take long for that to change. Hyunjin’s need took over, and he began to move faster and harder, his body crashing into yours with a force that left you breathless.

The sound of his body slapping against yours filled the room, and you couldn't stop the moans that escaped your lips. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you clung on to him tightly. 

He was everywhere - his hands, his lips, his body - and you were drowning in him.

You pull him closer, you lips kissing down his neck -  glistening with sweat - and you loved the way he moaned as you bit down right below his ear. 

You didn't know this was such a turn on for you until today. This man did things to you that even you didn't understand. And you didn't mind really. 

And you could feel that knot tightening in your belly again. Your eyes met, and you gripped him tightly, as his name escaped your lips in a breathless gasp. 

Your whole body shuddered as you hit your peak again, and Hyunjin kept moving, till you heard him groan and pull out quickly, spilling all over your tummy.

You were both left breathless, hearts racing, tangled together in a mess of sweat and your releases. For a moment, neither of you speak. 

Finally, Hyunjin gently cupped your face with his hand, his eyes softening. 

“I love you, Y/N. So damn much.” He whispered and you could swear you've never seen him being this serious. Ever. 

“I love you too, Jinnie,” You said, and your smile had him smiling. And the two of you were giggling and hugging each other tightly. 

“I told you I’d make you mine,” he mumbled against your neck, pressing a gentle kiss there.

“Yeah yeah,”

The next morning, you walked into the office, trying to act like everything was normal. But as soon as you stepped in, the atmosphere just felt different. 

You sat down at your desk, but before you could  even open your laptop, Changbin, Felix, and Chan came strolling into the office like they’ve been waiting for you. 

Oh they knew. 

“Morning, Y/N,” Changbin said, his tone way too casual. “Sleep well?”

You forced a smile, trying to stay calm, but inside you’re screaming. 

“Yeah, sure. Thanks for asking.” you managed to say, as you avoided making eye contact with him. 

“I’m sure you had a very eventful night, huh?” Felix was leaning against your desk now, his chin on his hand and a toothy grin in place. 

You dropped your head into your hands, already feeling the embarrassment creeping up. And then, you heard it. That sweet, chuckle which had you wanting to crawl under your desk and never come out. 

“Hyunjin,” you hissed, glaring at him as he strutted over to you, like a damn puppy who’s just been given a treat. 

And he looked so fucking proud of himself.

"Good morning, sweetheart,” he said, dropping that mandatory cupcake on your desk. 

You didn't hold back the sigh.

“Oh my God, Hyunjin,” you whined, burying your face in your hands in defeat. “Please.”

“What? You think they didn’t notice?” he asked innocently, pointing at the spot under his ear, where he sported a very evident hickey. 

Oh you wanted to die. Felix snickered, totally enjoying this. 

“And you’re glowing love, it looks good.” he said kindly. 

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you groaned, pressing your fingers into your temples. “Could you not?”

“You know we should have a talk about office etiquette. But then again... if it was that good…” Chan added, raising his eyebrows, a smile tugging at his lips as he glanced between you and Hyunjin. 

“I’m going to murder all of you.” 

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @satosugu4l

[icypopz]

coming over when they're drunk ♡

↬ request from anon ; Hiiii, may I please request the LADS boys getting really drunk, and they decided to come to her house late at night (they either live together or just came to her apartment). It can be only Zayne, tho.

↬ notes ; caleb, rafayel, sylus, xavier, zayne x gn!reader

↬ from ice ; hihi!! it's been like 7000 years since i last wrote but caleb's announcement has resurrected me!! this prompt was so fun and silly... anyways i hope you enjoy this!

↬ warning(s) ; all LIs are drunk, caleb antis dni, mc is described as shorter than all of them, sylus + zayne's are p suggestive

please reblog ! it helps a lot :)

[ caleb ! ]

"caleb?" what are you doing here?" you gasp as you open the door and see his familiar figure leaning against the frame. he's so tall that he has to duck to enter your apartment, and he stumbles as he does, making you rush to support him. "y/n..." he mumbles, his voice deep and husky, and you feel your heartbeat speed up at the way he says your name, "missed you..." "tsk, you're so dumb," you scold, though your heated cheeks betray how flustered you really are, "going and getting drunk even though you know you can't handle alcohol?" "mmphhh..." he groans as you both somehow manage to land on the sofa, his head resting on your chest, "sorry." you roll your eyes affectionately, threading your hands through his hair, "it's fine, silly. you're going to be the one hungover tomorrow." he nuzzles further into your chest, making you squeak, "hey! caleb!" "just let me sleep here..." and just like that, he's out like a light, his head tucked perfectly in the crook of your neck even though he's so much taller than you. well, you've known him for so many years that being this close is fine, right? it's totally fine that your heart is racing at a million miles per hour from how your dear childhood friend is sleeping on you... right?

more content utc !

[ rafayel ! ]

"ugh, raf, get off!" you groan, trying (and failing) to shove the purple-haired artist off you. "you're too heavy!" "but miss bodyguard~" he whines, lifting his head from how he's draped all 183cm of himself onto you, arms wrapped tight around your shoulders as if daring you to leave. his cheeks are flushed red from the alcohol, crimson dusting his ears when he gazes at you, "you're so warm! and it's sooo cold! you don't want your precious rafayel to freeze, do you?" he pouts, jutting out his lower lip in a way that's deceivingly adorable, and it almost makes you fold. keyword: almost. "well, you don't want your precious miss hunter to get crushed, do you?" you retort, even though you press yourself further into his comforting embrace. "if it's with me, then it's fine," rafayel teases, "i'll take care of you even if you're a pancake." "you're so annoying," you huff, though there's no real anger in your tone as you tuck a strand of purple hair behind his ear. "i'll even get you the best maple syrup and everything!" "...go to sleep, rafayel."

[ sylus ! ]

"sylus?" the two of you are in his mansion in the n109 zone, and he's just returned from another protocore auction. you help him slip off his masquerade mask, though you know he doesn't need to conceal his identity in someplace like this where his name is fear-inducing enough. "are you okay?" your palm presses against his cheek and forehead, checking if he has a fever, "you seem a little flushed." his eyes flutter shut and he leans into your touch, exhaling slowly, "it's nothing... i might have drank too much earlier." his large hand envelops yours, and he opens his ruby eyes once more, fixing his intense gaze on your face, "you're making me want to do very bad things, kitten." "i haven't even done anything- ah!" you argue, but your sentence is cut off as he sweeps you into his arms, lifting you easily into a princess carry. "you talk too much," he teases as you half-heartedly punch his chest, "ugh, sylus!" "i can think of several better ways for you to use that mouth of yours," he smirks as he kicks open your bedroom door, "so let's put those pretty lips to good use, hm?"

[ xavier ! ]

it's two in the morning when you hear a thump on your balcony. arming yourself, you stalk forward slowly, only to see, "xavier?!" "ah. hello, y/n." he stands up shakily, only to lean sideways and fall into a chair. "i was trying to teleport back home... but i guess i ended up at your apartment instead." he looks at you with his irresistible puppy eyes, and you can already guess what he's going to say next. throwing your hands up in defeat, you sigh, "sure, you can stay over." but as he stands up once more, almost toppling over again, you raise an eyebrow, "xavier, are you drunk?" "...not really." he looks away, and you can see how his neck is flushed, "liar. come here, let me help you." as you help him balance with his arm around you and head back inside, xavier's familiar scent wraps around the two of you like a soothing hug. "do i get to share a bed with you?" his eyes light up when you push open the bedroom door, "yeah, i feel too bad making you sleep on the couch when you're like this." his other hand sneaks up underneath the back of your shirt, pressing against your bare skin and sending waves of heat through your body. a gasp slips past your lips, and when you look up at xavier, he merely smiles, "i guess it's a good thing that i ended up here tonight after all."

[ zayne ! ]

"hmm..." you pretend to look thoughtful, gaze roving over zayne's tall figure as he sits on your couch, "is the famous dr. zayne perhaps... drunk?!" your voice turns dramatic, "how scandalous!" zayne looks at you confusedly, dark eyes seeming even darker and rounder than usual like a pair of twin boba pearls, "...what?" "aw, zayne! you're so cute like this!" you gush, giggling and wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into a hug. "my senses are not that impaired," he retorts, though his voice softens as he feels your familiar weight on his lap, "i am just... tipsy." "mhmm, whatever you say~" you tease, pressing a flurry of kisses along his neck. "d-don't do that..." he gasps, breath hitching as your lips drag over his pulse point, "i might not be able to hold myself back." "so don't." you lean back and tilt your head smugly, knowing that he's putty in your hands, "who said i wanted you to hold back anyway?" his eyes narrow behind his glasses, "don't say things you don't mean." "i mean it one hundred percent~" you smirk, leaning forward to steal his breath with another heated kiss. zayne's hands tighten their grip on your waist before he pins you underneath him, "whatever you say, y/n."

✧ thank you for reading ! if you have a request, feel free to send it in 🌠

© icypopz 2024. do not repost or modify in any way.

[mminghaos]

best friend seungcheol whom you have a crush on, but never told him. he doesn't know it either and y'all just bicker all the time as bsf, one day all of it changes when you finally say you found a match on some dating app. he realises it and bam! hot and heavy shit go down.

bitter crush , choi seungcheol x f!reader

SYPNOSIS: your bestfriend doesn’t know you’ve had a crush on him for years, but when you mention matching with someone on a dating app, everything changes.

WARNINGS: smut, fingering, kissing, teasing, mingyu as the failed date lmfao

requests are open, do send some in!!

you’ve been friends with seungcheol since high school, watching each other grow up — first jobs, first kisses, and everything in between, sticking together through the highs and lows. your friendship is built on bickering and teasing each other like it’s second nature. but now, the bickering feels different.

“i matched with someone on that app i told you about,” you say, placing your coffee down on the wooden table of the café you and seungcheol are sitting at.

you’d decided to give a dating app a shot, hoping it would help you take your mind off seungcheol. maybe meeting someone new will help you move on, or at least distract you from the constant thoughts about him. but so far, it’s just more of the same — swiping, chatting, but none of its ever seemed to match the energy you share with him. you might as well move on, since seungcheol has is own hookups and girlfriends, and none of them will ever be you. its frustrating, the way this burning crush for him is always shimmering beneath the surface, gnawing at you. this is going to be the death of you — that’s what you always tell yourself.

“so you’re telling me you’re out here swiping on strangers?” he responds, his voice laced with something you can’t quite place. “what happened to the whole ‘not needing anyone’ thing?”

“it changed.”

“really? that’s weird.” he says, his eyes never leaving you. “thought you were too busy to deal with anyone new.”

you roll your eyes, trying to brush it off. “yeah, well, apparently im not as busy as i thought.”

you’ve never been the type to casually date or get involved with someone just for the sake of it. but lately, things feel different. seungcheol’s always been there — constant, reliable, and annoyingly perfect in his own way — and it’s hard to ignore how your thoughts always circle back to him, no matter how many times you try to push them away. you’ve never said it out loud, never let him in on the truth of how much he’s been occupying your mind, and the idea of dating someone else? it almost feels like a joke. you’re not really here for some random guy who doesn’t know you like he does. but the more you try to distract yourself, the more you realize how little it helps. no matter how many matches you get, no conversation ever seems to compare to the effortless back and forth you share with seungcheol. it’s like you’re chasing something that doesn’t quite exist, and each swipe only makes you feel more frustrated. but you can’t exactly admit that, not to him, not to anyone. so you keep trying, hoping maybe this time will be different, even though you know deep down it won’t be.

“so, who’s this guy?”

you shrug, trying to keep your voice steady. “kim mingyu. he’s nice. we’ve met a few times before, actually — works at that bar down the street.”

seungcheol leans back in his chair, his arms crossed as he watched you. he clears his throat. “just don’t pick some random guy who doesn’t get you, alright?”

“what, are you jealous or something?”

“no.”

the date with mingyu went well. you two got along really great — there was no shortage of conversation, and the chemistry was comfortable. you both enjoyed the meal and found common ground in ways that made the evening feel lighthearted and easy. it was nice, actually, to just relax and enjoy someone’s company without any pressure.

even if the date was good, you and mingyu both agreed that you should just be friends, neither of you feeling the sparks you were hoping for.

you walk into your apartment, slipping off your shoes and placing your keys under the mat. its quiet, the only sound being the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. you head towards the living room, where seungcheol is sprawled on your couch, sorting through the groceries he offered to pick up for you earlier this week.

“you’re back early,” he says, glancing up with a smirk. “thought you were gonna be out all night with your… date.”

you roll your eyes, not really in the mood to talk about it. “it was fine,” you reply, shrugging as you drop your purse on the counter. “nothing special.”

seungcheol raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “really?”

you let out a breath, trying to sound casual. “yeah, well, turns out i’m not as interested as i thought.”

he tilts his head, looking at you like he’s trying to figure you out. “what do you mean?”

you hesitate, leaning against the kitchen counter, fingers tapping against the countertop. “we got along, i guess. but we just decided to be friends.”

“huh.” seungcheol shrugs, clearly unconcerned, though there’s something in the way he watches you that makes you pause. “so you’re saying you don’t feel any connection with him at all?”

you shift, rubbing the back of your neck. “it’s just… not there. but whatever. i’m fine.”

“you sure?” seungcheol presses, his voice dropping an octave, and you can’t help but notice how close he’s sitting now. “because i’m sure someone else would love the chance to—”

“ugh, please.” you cut him off, trying to brush it off. “i don’t need some random guy to be interested.”

he smirks, clearly not buying it. “really? sounds like you do.”

you bite your lip, trying to hold onto your patience, but it’s slipping through your fingers. you know he’s teasing, and usually, you’d laugh it off, but tonight feels different. there’s a tension in the air that you can’t ignore, something that’s been building for years. frustration bubbles up inside you, and before you can stop yourself, the words spill out.

“cheol, i like you, okay?” you blurt out, your voice trembling slightly, surprised by how easily it all comes rushing out.

he pauses, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processes your words. there’s a moment of silence, and you feel like you’re about to suffocate under the weight of it. his gaze flickers to your face, then down to your hands, then back to your eyes, as if trying to figure out what’s really going on.

“wait,” he says slowly, his tone less playful and more cautious now. “you’re not drunk, are you? had drinks or something when you were out?”

you quickly shake your head, trying to steady your breath. “no, i’m not drunk. i just—” but the words feel clumsy on your tongue, and suddenly, you’re unsure of how to take them back.

“i shouldn’t have said that,” you mutter, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “this was stupid, i’m sorry. i don’t even know why i—”

you start rambling, trying to downplay the confession that’s just slipped out. each word feels like it’s digging you deeper, and you just want to take it all back. “i mean, i don’t even know what i was thinking—this is—god, i’m so—”

but before you can finish, seungcheol pushes himself off the couch and walks towards you, stopping just a few inches away. his eyes still lock on yours. the silence stretches, and you feel your heart race, your breath catching in your throat. you want to say something, to apologize again, but all the words are caught in your chest.

“stop,” he says softly, his voice low, but there’s an intensity in it that you can’t ignore.

you open your mouth, wanting to explain, to take back the awkward confession, but the words jumble in your mind. “it’s just… i didn’t want to make it weird, and now i’ve probably ruined everything—”

seungcheol doesn’t say anything, just watches you with an unreadable look in his eyes, waiting for you to stop rambling. you go on anyway, trying to explain yourself, even though you can feel yourself getting more flustered with each passing second.

before you can continue, he steps forward, his hand gently cupping your face, cutting off your words. you freeze, eyes wide, but before you can process anything, his lips crash onto yours, effectively silencing you.

the kiss is deep and urgent, like he’s been holding back too. your brain barely registers what’s happening as your hands instinctively move to his chest, but the tension that had been building between you both for so long snaps. everything goes quiet in your mind, and for the first time tonight, all the chaos and nerves fall away, replaced by the heat of his kiss.

the kiss lingers for a moment, intense and raw, as if neither of you wants to pull away. your breath mingles with his, the world around you blurring until there’s only the feeling of him so close, so real. your heart pounds in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears, and you can feel the tension in his body as he holds you just a bit tighter, as if he’s afraid you might slip away.

when he finally pulls back, you’re left breathless, your forehead resting against his as you both try to catch your breath. his hands are still on you, one gently holding your face, the other resting on your hip, grounding you.

“you really don’t make things easy, do you?” he murmurs, his voice a little hoarse, the teasing edge back in his tone, but it’s softer now, more affectionate.

you don’t trust yourself to speak right away. all the words that had been stuck in your chest before are now lost, replaced by the overwhelming feeling of him so close, his touch still lingering on your skin. instead, you look up at him, meeting his eyes, trying to make sense of everything, but before you can say anything, he smiles slightly, a genuine, soft expression.

“i didn’t realise how much i liked you until you told me about that guy,” he admits, brushing his thumb over your cheek gently. “i was too stupid to notice.”

you dont get to reply because his hand moves down your back, pulling you closer, your chest pressed against his. the room feels warmer now, charged with something you can't ignore. your hands find their way to his chest, pushing lightly at first, unsure if you should pull away or let it happen. but he doesn't give you that chance.

his lips return to yours, but this time, there's more urgency in it, his kiss deepening as his tongue brushes against yours. you let out a soft sigh, the tension that's been building between you two for what feels like forever finally snapping. he groans, his hand moving to your neck, holding you in place as he deepens the kiss further. the heat between you both grows, and you can feel every inch of him pressing against you, making your pulse quicken.

seungcheol's voice is low, almost a whisper as he takes a step back, hands resting on your waist, grounding you both. "do you want to keep going?" he asks.

you nod, your heart racing, but your mind is clear. “yes.”

he doesn't say anything more, just nods and gently takes your hand, leading you through the apartment. when you get to your room, he lays you down on the bed gently, his hands never leaving you.

seungcheol hovers over you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation, any sign that you’re unsure. you can feel his body close to yours, the warmth radiating off him. “are you sure?”

“yes, cheol.” you let out a light laugh, pulling him closer. “im sure.”

his lips trail down your jaw, each kiss softer than the last before he moves to your neck, his teeth grazing slightly over the skin. you let out a soft sigh once he pulls back after reaching where your shirt starts. before he can say anything, you’re reaching for the hem of your shirt, pulling the fabric over your head.

seungcheol takes a moment, his gaze lingering on you before meeting your eyes again.

“you’re so beautiful,” he says, unclasping your bra and slipping it off. “god.”

his hands find their way to your pants as he trails kisses down your chest, each one growing more desperate as his lips move lower. the warmth of his breath against your skin sends a shiver through you, and you can feel your heart race with every gentle press of his lips.

eventually, he pulls your pants off, discarding them somewhere on the floor behind him. “please.” you breathe out

“hmm?” he responds, his fingers slipping just under the band of your panties. “what do you want, baby?”

“need you inside me, please.”

he glances down at you, lips twitching up into a smirk. “patience.”

“no, no, no— cheol, please—” you whimper out.

“don’t worry, you’ll get what you want.” he cuts you off, pressing a light kiss to your collarbone.

when he finally stops teasing you and pulls your panties down, tossing them god knows where, you’re already a mess underneath him. every nerve in your body is on edge, anticipation building as he slides two fingers through your folds. “fuck, you’re soaking wet for me, baby.” a low groan escapes his lips, his restraint wavering as he fights to hold himself back.

he slowly pushes one finger into your pussy, giving you a moment to relax before he adds another and starts to curl them into all the right places.

“cheol!” your head falls back against the pillow, hand going to grab his wrist for some sort of stability.

“yeah, you like that?”

you’re already so close — just from the way his fingers move inside you, hitting every spot that sends sparks shooting througu your body.

you nod over and over again, hips rising to match the rhythm of his movements. “don’t stop— fuck— please, im so close.” 

your breath hitches, and you clutch at his arm, desperate for grounding as the sensations overwhelm you. every stroke of his fingers feels like its pulling you closer to the brink, and the tension in your body winds tighter with each passing second. “please—” the word slips out as a whisper, barely audible. your legs start to shake, the pleasure coursing through you almost too much to bear.

before you can even warn seungcheol, you’re coming undone all over his fingers, hips bucking up at the same time.

“god, thats so hot.” he mutters, but you’re too out of it to know if its to you or himself.

"you alright?" seungcheol asks softly, his hand resting on your hip as he looks down at you with concern. his touch is gentle, almost hesitant, as if he's checking for any sign of discomfort.

you nod, your breath still ragged, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "yeah, i'm good. just... didn't expect that." your voice is breathy, the lingering effects of the moment still making your body tingle.

seungcheol smirks, clearly pleased with the reaction. "you sure you're not too overwhelmed?" he teases, his hand moving to brush a strand of hair out of your face.

you laugh softly, the sound shaky but genuine. "im fine" you reply, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eye. "was that your way of saying you like me too?"

“it was.” he smirks, eyes locking onto yours. “think you can go for one more round?”

he really is going to be the death of you.

[angelltheninth]

Arcane Characters That Are Big of Heart and Dumb of Ass

Pairing: Vi, Sevika, Vander, Jayce, Loris, Ambessa x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, dating, flirting, cuddles, kissing, sparing, muscles, protectiveness

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: This came to me today during my work break. I love himbos and whatever the female version of it is!

PURE OF HEART: She will do anything, put herself in any kind of danger to protect you. Vi is ready to get into a fight with anyone, stand up to anyone if they're bothering you. The bruises might be there after but she knows you'll help her get patched up. Depending on where the bruises are she might get some kisses.

DUMB OF ASS: Charges head first into any situation and that more often than not gets her hurt. One would think she learned to use hear head a bit more by now. And just in terms of headbutting her opponent. However she defends her attitude by saying that she's the muscle here, so you should let her take care of things her way.

PURE OF HEART: First of all she doesn't want anyone knowing she has a soft spot for you. She is very aggressive in her flirting both in public and in private but when you're up close, in her lap she will whisper sweet nothings into your ear. After which she will bite it. Don't blame her, she has an image to uphold.

DUMB OF ASS: Sevika has always been a badass in Zaun, but not for her brains. As respected as she is some also see her as a glorified bodyguard that's now dating her boss's cute secretary. She hears these rumors of course but they don't phase her when she's had a few shots of her favorite drink. Not her best moment.

PURE OF HEART: He is a family man to the bone. And he sees you as his wife even though you're not officially married yet. It won't stop him from grabbing you around the hips and pulling you into a kiss, his tongue tasting of tabaco and your favorite drink. Yes, your favorite, because he wants to taste good when he kisses you.

DUMB OF ASS: While Vander might be one of the de facto leaders in Zaun he's made his fair share of dumb choices. He's forgotten to lock up more than once, leading to the people thinking the bar open and he walked out in his underwear. What made it more embarrassing is that you were right behind him, wearing just his shirt.

PURE OF HEART: Everyone who met Jayce even once can see that he has a heart of gold. There isn't a challenge he won't try to take out, be it with brains or brawn. Knowing he's smart hasn't stopped you from visiting him a few times in the forge and appreciating the way the sweat rolls down his muscled body. He even flexes for you.

DUMB OF ASS: The amount of times he accidentally burned himself because he was too busy making out with you is astounding. He picks you up easily enough. But then backs up a bit too much, touching or stepping too close to the heat of the forge. Either that or he knocks important tools down when he places you on his table.

PURE OF HEART: No one's got your back like Loris has your back. He's is one of the most supportive boyfriends you could ask for, husband material really. Whenever he notices you're having a bad day he will beckon you over and scoop you into his big arms. You're not getting away from him or his cuddles until you feel better.

DUMB OF ASS: Among the Enforcers he has always been known as the muscle, and as more than a bit of drinker. But he also tells the best stories. He can be a little crude sometimes, flirting with you and forgetting there are other people in the room. The next morning everyone is smirking at him and he has no idea why.

PURE OF HEART: Ambessa will crush anyone who has anything bad to say about her, her family, or anyone in her army. Her strength is in her physique, strategy and loyalty of her people. But on occasion she can show her softer side, when it's just the two of you. It's one of her weaknesses, that cute smile of yours that she would do anything for.

DUMB OF ASS: One of her favorite ways to flirt, and have foreplay, is to spar with you. However that tends to attract more than a few eyes. She always acts insanely possessive over you in those moments, her head still in the fight but also getting in between you and her soldiers. it ends up looking a bit like a dance, much to everyone's amusement.

[incomplete-leclerc]

　𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗘𝗗 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗞.　lando norris · #4

　　　lando thinks he isn't the jealous type, but when it comes to his best friend, he might just be very wrong about that.

genres : best friends to lovers ... fluff ... lando x fem!reader.　word count : 1.4k.　warnings : jealousy ... lando misreading and overthinking.　 note : i recycled this fic from my main (it used to be a kpop fic, but i edited it and rewrote some lines).　　　( masterlist )　( taglist )

Lando had always thought jealousy was a stupid thing. Easily jealous people were insecure and only caused headaches for themselves and others. He prided himself with how secure he was, not easily swayed by feelings of envy off the track. And, as such, Lando had never suspected to get jealous, much less over his best friend. 

He didn’t know how to combat the feelings he soon felt rising when he saw you across the room, at this stupid New Year’s party his friend had hosted. You looked nothing short of stunning in your red satin dress, commanding the attention of the whole room it seemed. Lando simply couldn’t look away from you. But while he was busy falling into the hypnosis that you cast on him, he was hyper aware of how close you were to George, how you kept laughing at whatever joke he was telling. 

George Russell was loveable and fun to be around. Talented, smart, attractive; and a full head above Lando in height. He’d only been your friend for a few months. Lando had known you for half of his life. Surely, he wasn’t threatened by George’s presence, was he?

Lando felt dumb thinking about it like that. George couldn’t steal you from him— you weren’t even his to begin with. But he couldn’t help but feel his chest burn seeing you make eye contact with the taller man, a pretty smile gracing your lips and your eyes scrunching to complete it. He wished he had the confidence to storm up to where you and George stood and make up some excuse to steal you away from him, if even for a few moments. But he was afraid of acknowledging the obvious jealousy he felt, finding it tarnished his ego. 

Oscar, ever the observant man he was, found his friend sitting in the corner of the room, sipping on apple cider with a stare that could burn a hole through anyone. With a gaze so fixed on your figure, it was easy to connect the dots. He took a seat next to his friend, offering his mug of cider to toast. 

“You look like you want to banish George from the planet,” Oscar muttered with a smile. He was aware of Lando’s crush on you. It was hard to not see the way he looked at you. What Oscar could see that Lando didn’t, however, was how mutual the feelings seemed to be. Every time you visited the paddock, you were near inseparable from him. 

“I don’t,” Lando lied. It was a pathetic attempt to hide his churning stomach and aching heart. 

“Y/n looks pretty tonight. I wonder who she dressed up for?” Oscar nudged Lando’s arm.

“Isn’t it obvious? They’ve been attached at the hip for the last 20 minutes,” Lando took another sip of cider, letting the warm spices and tartness burn down his throat. He tried to make his words seem unaffected by the fact he was pointing out, but, to Oscar, who already knew of his frankly crippling crush on you, it was obvious how bothered he was by the sight. 

“Someone’s jealous.”

“I’m not jealous, mate. I don’t get jealous.” 

As he uttered the defense, his eyes flitted towards your figure, once again caught breathless by how good you looked. There was an obvious absence of George by your side for the first time since Lando had sat down. He assumed he must have walked off. Your eyes were glancing around the room, and once they landed on Lando, they brightened. You started walking over to him, champagne in hand. Oscar patted his friend on the shoulder and stood up, leaving him alone to talk to you.   

“Hey. So this is where you’ve been hiding all night? I swear, I couldn’t find you anywhere. I almost thought I dressed up for nothing.” 

You smiled, taking the seat Oscar had been sitting in. Lando felt the churning in his stomach come to a halt, replaced by shy butterflies. 

“Wanna trade? I’ve already had too much champagne for one night,” you asked, not giving Lando any time to answer before swapping your glasses, humming in content at the taste of the warm cider. Lando smiled, taking a sip of the half empty glass of champagne that had found its way into his hand.

“You look nice tonight,” Lando said, giving you a glance, trying not to seem obvious. Your smile widened at his comment, and he couldn’t help but feel immense satisfaction at scoring over George. 

“Really? You don’t look so bad yourself. You tried something different with your hair. It really works.” 

He nodded. Truthfully, he hadn’t expected you to notice as nobody else had. After spending an extra twenty minutes scrutinizing it in the mirror along with his outfit before leaving for the party, he was glad the person he had put the effort in for had taken note. As conversation went on and you started talking, Lando soon found himself entirely lost in your presence and words. Eyes trained onto your face, smile following your sentences. You made everything feel so easy, vanishing all of his previous doubts and worries. All he could focus on was you, and you were back to being best friends; always getting along, always having more things to say to each other, always making the other laugh. 

The conversation shifted eventually, and the topic of your previous conversation with George came up. Something about modelling, but Lando couldn’t entirely focus on processing your words. His focus had shifted to how you seemed to talk about George, retelling the story with such enthusiasm and a sparkle in your eyes. Lando didn’t know if you talked about him like that to your friends, but there was a part of his muddled brain that wished you would; wished you did.

When there was a pause in the conversation, Lando found the words falling past his lips before he even realized what he was saying.

“You seem to like him a lot.”

Your eyebrows furrowed a bit at his observation. You glanced at Lando, but his face was unreadable. 

“You two look good together,” he continued, not even sure why he was bringing it up. The jealousy was glaringly obvious. He couldn’t hide it, especially not from you. You could always read him so easily. 

“What do you mean? You don’t actually think I’m interested in him, right?” 

Lando blinked, taken aback by your words. It had seemed so obvious thirty minutes ago that you were, but now he felt like he had misread you.

“I… I don’t know. It looked like—”

“Looked like what? Lando, please don’t say you really misread it that badly,” you said seriously, placing a hand on his shoulder so he would meet your gaze. His eyes found yours and his mouth fell silent immediately, unsure of what to say to justify his thoughts. 

He really was jealous. God, he felt so stupid.

“I don’t care about George. I care about you. You’re the only one who I think of in that way.” 

Lando searched your eyes, tracing them for any hesitation or dishonesty. You were sincere. Smart and kind and so, so pretty. You were miles ahead of Lando, he was sure of it. He didn’t know how he had managed to get you to stay his friend for this long, or how you even saw him in a romantic way at all. But he believed you when you said you thought of him, and God, he thought of you every day. 

He had imagined this moment many times, picturing that he would get a surge of confidence and kiss you, or ask you on a date as soon as he was sure of your feelings. But, he didn’t feel any of that. He was embarrassed instead, a flush taking over his cheeks and his eyes unable to move from the spot on the floor in between his feet.  

You looked over at him, an amused smile on your face. Your best friend was an idiot at times, but you only found it endearing. You lifted his chin gently, turning his face back towards you. Planting a small kiss on his cheek, you smiled.

“I like you, Lan. Don’t ever doubt it.” 

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 43: Lies

Summary: Things are getting better...or are they?

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 5,029 words

Warnings: Alpha/beta/omega dynamics, a/b/o, omegaverse, angst, kissing, 'mega being a badass, angst, emotions, fluff, angst

A/N: Sorry not sorry

“Kyle.” 

The name is whispered in the silence, floating through the air around you. There’s no response from the body wrapped around you aside from a quiet snore. You drive your elbow back into his chest, whispering his name once more. 

“Kyle.” 

He lets out a snore, jolting out of sleep suddenly as your elbow digs into his pectoral muscle. “Hm, what?” He slurs, still half asleep. 

“Kyle, I didn’t have a nightmare last night.” You say quietly, kicking the volume up to just above a whisper. 

“Mmm that’s good.” He murmurs sleepily, scooting closer to you to press his face against your shoulder blade. “Really good.” 

“No Phil this time either.” You say, excitement starting to bubble in your stomach. No nightmares, no sign of Phil haunting your mind in sleep or awake. 

Maybe Dr. Keller is right and you really are healing. 

It’s been weeks since he died, since you drove that knife into his neck. The memories of warm blood spurting onto your skin, the life leaving his eyes still has your stomach twisting with nausea, but the nightmares of his haunting presence have ceased for now. 

“It’s been a year today,” You say into the silence. “Since I joined the pack.” 

“Mhm.” Kyle hums against your shoulder, pressing his face closer against your skin. 

“So much has happened in such a short amount of time.” You muse. 

Kyle’s arm moves from around your waist, lifting up towards your face. His hand covers your mouth, cutting off the words that had been on the tip of your tongue. “‘S too early.” He murmurs. “Go back to sleep.” 

His lips brushing your skin with every word has butterflies fluttering in your stomach. It feels much like it did in the early stages of your integration into their pack, back when you had small crushes on each of them, when the relationships were new and exciting. They feel new now, the dynamics changing between all of you since that day you sat them down and set the record straight. 

“Sit down and listen.” You try to stop your voice from shaking as you stand before the four giant forms that make up the rest of your pack. Dr. Keller has gone out for the day, leaving just the five of you alone. 

You may or may not have asked her to do so.

The four of them look surprised by your authoritative tone, shocked even. They stand there dumbly, staring at you with wide eyes. 

You let out a quiet sigh. This is going to be harder than you thought it was going to be. 

“I said, sit down and listen.” You repeat, the four of them slowly sinking down onto their seats. Their eyes are still on you, still filled with surprise at this sudden change. 

You stare at them, John seated in the chair across from you, the most taken aback at this sudden shift in your attitude. Johnny and Kyle are seated to your right, both of them staring at you in surprise. Simon looks the least surprised by this outburst, yet his eyes are still softer than the hardened gaze he’s been giving you for weeks. 

You clear your throat, straightening your back as you stand before them. “We have some things to discuss as a pack.” You shift on your feet, trying to shove down those nervous butterflies in your stomach. 

This could go south fast if they wanted it to. 

“Some things about where we stand,” You continue. “How things are going to look moving forward.” You fall silent for a moment, looking at each of them. The surprise has faded, all of them focused and dialed in on you. 

You can’t help but wonder if this is how they looked during debriefs, so laser focused and in tune with what’s happening. You can’t help but wonder if they’re shifting into that mindset, if they’re viewing this as a mission and not as what it should be. 

You shove those thoughts back into the recesses of your mind, steeling yourself again for the coming storm you’re about to brew.

“I don’t want things to go back to the way they were.” You say, your hands tugging at your shirt nervously. “They didn’t work that way. Well, they might have worked for you, but they didn’t for me and that’s why we’re here today. To have a conversation we should have had at the start.” 

They stay sitting there, all of them scarily still as you speak. You’re not even sure they’re still breathing. You may as well be talking to a bunch of statues. You stare at John until he blinks just to be sure. 

“I don’t want things to go back to the way they were because it wasn’t fair for me. You were all kind and welcoming and you treated me well, but you weren’t supportive of me and what I needed.” You swallow the nervous lump in your throat. “I know you were trying, but it wasn’t right and I was too afraid to say anything. Omegas are supposed to be the glue that holds packs together.” You quote the book, the one you tried to keep secret from them until Simon found it. “We’re the ones doing the heavy lifting, the ones clinging to the threads of bonds for dear life. Even if I’m not involved in your bonds with each other, I’m still holding those strings. I fall, you all fall.” You clear your throat. “I think we’ve seen enough proof of that over the past couple months.” 

None of them move as you speak. You hope they already knew what you were addressing, that they already understood. You hope this isn’t news to them, that you’re not walking them through some mind-boggling discovery. 

“I’m the one holding this pack together, so I should be treated fairly.” You take a breath to steady yourself. “I know you tried before, but you weren’t...doing it right. You weren’t allowing me into the places I should have been, into the roles I’m supposed to play.” You gulp, your eyes flicking over the four of them. “I’m in charge.” 

Finally one of them moves, John shifting slightly in his seat. It’s a direct challenge to his status, to his role in the pack, and it’s coming from an omega. In hindsight, you could have worded it better, but you were too worried about losing the nerve that’s fueled you up to this moment. 

“I’m the one in charge of how these bonds develop, how they work, how they flow together, so I need to be in charge of things that might affect those bonds.” Your eyes are glued to John’s, watching his face. “I need a voice in this pack. I may not be able to point us in a direction, but I need to know what that direction is so I can understand how that direction might affect us as a pack, and if it's worth it.” 

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the emotions starting to rise in you. Nerves still twist in your stomach as you continue, their lack of reactions only fueling the nerves. What are they thinking? How are they going to react? None of them have interrupted you so far, berating you for making such demands or shutting you down before you can get much further. 

They really are sitting and listening to you. 

“I know the situation made that impossible. I know it wasn’t any of your faults for the way things had to be because of the military and your jobs and all of the secrecy, but it can’t be like that anymore. I know you kept me separated and in the dark for my own safety, but...” You hold your arms out. “Look at where it got us anyway. No matter what happens next, I can’t be in the dark anymore. It’s...it’s killing me. It almost did kill me.” 

They all shift at your words. Voicing that reality has struck a chord deep within them. They’ve all thought it, but none of them have acknowledged it outright. None of them quite understand the gravity of what happened at the level you do...except perhaps Simon. He was knee deep in it with you. He’s the reason it didn’t kill you. 

“No matter what happens next, no matter what unfolds, I can’t be an outsider anymore.” Your voice has softened, your tone lowering as the nerves begin to settle. You’re losing steam, your overworked adrenal glands wearing out faster than you might have planned. “I just...I don’t want this pack to fall apart, and...I can’t do it alone. I’m not supposed to be alone. None of us are.” You shift on your feet. “So kiss and make up already because you’re driving me crazy.” 

They all let out quiet chuckles at your words, the nerves settling even more at their reactions. No screaming, no berating, no opposition. Just sitting and listening like you said. 

John leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. “I think we can all agree with what you said. It wasn’t fair, the way we treated you. Sure the situation was complicated, but things could have been done differently. We could have let you in more than we did.” 

“We cut ye off too much.” Johnny says. 

“You’re right.” John continues, taking you by surprise. “Alphas and omegas are supposed to work together. We all have our roles we play, and alpha and omega should be equal.” He glances around at the rest of the pack. “We shouldn’t go back to the way things were. They won’t ever be like that again, and that’s a good thing. We’ve all learned from our mistakes, mistakes that shouldn’t have happened in the first place. We’ll never truly be able to make up for them, but we can work to fix what can be repaired.” 

You stare at him for a long moment, realizing he’s waiting for your approval. It makes you feel good, proud. Your omega preens happily, some of the weight being removed from your shoulders. They’re willing to work with you, willing to bend the knee and allow you to lead them in this. 

You nod. “Good. I’m glad we could come to this agreement.” 

You feel like passing out as the tension and adrenaline starts to wear off. You plop down on the couch next to Simon, letting out a long breath.

“You okay?” Kyle asks. 

You huff out a laugh. “That was scary.” 

Kyle’s hand droops from your mouth, sliding down to rest under your chin. Butterflies still flutter in your stomach as his warm breath fans across your skin. It feels so close and intimate now after weeks of separation and distance between everyone. You know they’ve taken your words to heart, rebuilding those bonds between them. You can feel it, the strings starting to strengthen, no longer fraying and clinging on by a hair. You’re not holding the weight of the world anymore, clinging to those rapidly fraying bonds in desperation. 

The load has been eased off of your shoulders, your alpha starting to carry some of that weight for you. 

Your alpha. 

It feels almost foreign calling him that again. He hasn’t felt like your alpha in so long the bond almost feels like it’s rebuilding itself from the ground up. A new bond, a changed one from the weak one that held the two of you together before. Your fingers lift to brush over your mark. It throbs, but not in pain this time. Your fingers brush Kyle’s hand where it’s tucked under your chin as you lower them from your mark. You wrap your fingers around his hand, pulling his arm so it’s wrapped around you instead. 

“Kyle?” You whisper, but you get nothing more than a snore in return. 

***

“You seem happier.” Dr. Keller says, sitting in the chair next to you. 

“I feel happier.” You say, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You were right, about having that conversation. It’s helped a lot.” 

“I knew it would. They were trying, they just needed a bit of direction.” She takes a sip of her tea. 

“Military men.” You roll your eyes. “Can’t do anything without being told what to do first.” 

“I think that’s just all men.” Dr. Keller says. 

You laugh, a genuine laugh. “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t attracted to them.” 

“I don’t blame you.” She huffs out a laugh. “That is one small mercy I was granted in this life.” 

You smile softly. “I’m happy for you.” You glance at her. “You deserve it, after everything you’ve done for me, for us.” 

“Just doing my job.” She shrugs. 

“I think you’ve gone above and beyond your job lately.” You say. “Thank you, for getting me through this.” 

“Of course. I wasn’t going to leave you floundering.” 

“Some might have.” You say, and it’s the truth. A different omega specialist might have run as soon as things went south. Dr. Keller went halfway across the globe and back to help you in a vulnerable time. She’s put in more work in the last few weeks to try and keep you alive, to try and keep your pack in one piece than she should have ever had to. 

“Then they shouldn’t be omega specialists.” She says. “Lines can get blurry in this profession, but I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat if it means even one omega can have a chance at a good life.” 

“Consider that a success, then.” You say with a small smile. 

“Good. I’m glad you feel that way.” She squeezes your hand. “You know I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.” 

“I know. Maybe someday soon you’ll even be family.” You give her a knowing grin. 

“Well, I wouldn’t put too much stock in that right away.” She says, shifting in her seat. 

“You really like her.” 

“It’s hard not to.” She says. “The Garrick family might be the closest we have to angels on earth.” 

“They are just so...perfect.” You agree. 

“Some people just have it all, don’t they?” 

“Must be nice.” You muse. “I think we’re both pretty lucky though, snagging ourselves one of those angels.” 

Dr. Keller smiles at you. “I can hardly disagree.” 

It feels good to see them finally getting over themselves. Sitting closer, lingering touches, even holding hands. You did that. You forced them together to work out those barriers they put between themselves. The pack is healing because of you. 

It makes your omega preen in happiness. She’s finally settled, finally tucked back in her cage with the door shut tight. She’s content with the strong bonds beginning to reform. There’s no need for her now that the threat of danger has passed, now that your pack is beginning to come together again. That safety and security of the bonds has shoved her back into her place where she rests contently. 

Yet, despite that you still feel a bit on edge, still waiting for that shoe to drop. Sure things are getting better, but what about you? Where do you stand with all of them? It still feels like they're tiptoeing around you, like they don’t know where to start, where to jump back in. Where does that boundary lie now that things are beginning to improve? 

You’re not even quite so sure yourself. You can’t just jump back into where things were when they fell apart.  It doesn’t feel right. You’re not ready for that yet, but you can’t help the desires starting to burn in you again as those bonds repair themselves. You got far the first time, but yet no one is willing to take it that far right away. 

Not even you. 

You have to lay that barrier, mark down in the sand where that line is between where you were and where you are. How far would they push it if you left it up to them? They might never push it further with how they’re tiptoeing around you. You might get stuck in this realm of the unknown if you leave it up to them. But, how will they react if you do push it? Will they push back? Are they ready for things to move forward? Are they ready for the relationships to develop like that once more? 

A rock and a hard place. 

Maybe you should push it. Maybe you should be the one to test the boundaries this time. They’ve had their chance, and they’re not going to push it any further. You’re tired of this dance, so maybe you should take the plunge for them. 

Omegas always have to do the hard work. 

“Are you drawing me again?” 

The soft scratch of pencil on paper that has filled the quiet of the house pauses. 

“I cannae help it.” Johnny murmurs, shifting in his seat. “Yer the perfect model, kitten.” 

“Why, cause I can sit and dissociate for hours at a time?” You tease. 

“Cause yer so beautiful.” He counters. 

Your face warms at his words, not expecting such a comeback. You quickly tuck yourself further under the blanket, hiding part of your face bashfully. “Am not.” 

“Are too.” He argues playfully. “The most beautiful woman I ever laid eyes on.” 

Woman, not omega. You half expected him to designate you to your status, but instead he’s surprised you once more. Your face warms at his words, yet you can’t help that tickle in the back of your mind. This is coming from somewhere.

You side-eye him, giving him a suspicious look. “What do you want?”

“What?” He asks in mock surprise. 

“You’re buttering me up for something.” You say, turning to face him. 

“I dinnae what ye mean.” He shrugs. “Can’t I just compliment my beautiful omega?” 

You give him a look. 

“I do mean it.” He says, setting his notebook on the table before joining you on the couch. He tugs you into his chest, making you nearly fall against him at the sudden movement. “Yer stunning, kitten.” 

“Alright, alright, fine.” You lean your head on his shoulder. “I get it.” 

You stare up at him, tracing his jawline with your eyes. “Now what is it you want?” 

“Nothing.” He says, holding his hands up. “Swear it.” 

You hum, lifting your head up so you can stare at him. He stares back with those bright blue eyes, soft with emotion as he studies your face. You feel like you’re staring at him for the first time again, studying his features. Your finger traces the scar on his chin, the short hairs of his stubble tickling your fingers. He’s shaved recently, trimming down the sides of his hair too. They’ve all cleaned up a bit, trimming scraggly beards and long hair. At least longer than you’ve ever seen. 

You take it as a sign of the improvement in your pack. You’re no longer drowning in the depths of fraying bonds. There’s life in the pack once more. You’re back in the pack once more. 

You continue to stare at Johnny, getting lost in those sea blue eyes. Your heart starts to beat faster, pounding away in your chest. You’re worried he might be able to hear it from how hard it’s beating. There’s a slight tremble to your fingers as you slide them from his chin up to his lips. 

You really want to kiss him. 

He presses a soft kiss to your fingertips, the soft touch lingering as your hand drops away. The air in the cottage is electric, the heat of the fire suddenly unnecessary as warmth blooms under your skin. 

Take the plunge. 

You can’t stop yourself as you start to move, leaning in closer to him. 

He doesn’t move, staying freakishly still as you lean closer and closer. You press your forehead against his, your eyes fluttering closed as you linger there for a moment. His lips have parted, his warm breath fanning against your own lips. They suddenly feel chapped, your tongue darting out to wet them. A soft sound leaves his lips at the action, a long, warm breath fanning across your face. 

You close the gap between the two of you, pressing a soft, hesitant kiss to his lips. It’s short and sweet, nothing more than a test of the waters. He doesn’t pull away, he doesn’t push you off of him. Instead his arm tightens around you, his other hand lifting to cup your cheek. You take it as a good sign, kissing him again. 

He holds you tightly against him as you kiss him harder this time. Your hand slides from his jaw to the side of his neck. You can feel his pulse thrumming beneath your fingers, beating almost as fast as yours. It’s a relief more than anything, to feel him as excited about this as you are. You doubt he’d be kissing you back if he wasn’t, but it’s still a nice sign that you haven’t pushed the boundaries too far. 

He hums contently against your lips, a smile tugging at his. 

“You’re going to be insufferable after this aren’t you?” You murmur as you pull back. 

“I’ll try not to be.” He murmurs back. 

“Something tells me I shouldn’t believe you.” You lean in for another soft kiss. 

He hums against your lips, unable to stop his grin. “First again.” 

“There we go.” You say, pulling back. 

“I promise.” He says, letting you go. 

“I still don’t believe you.” You say. 

“Probably shouldn’t.” He says, poking your nose softly. “Now go back tae the way ye were so I can finish my drawing.” 

You roll your eyes but acquiesce, adjusting your position on the couch once more. 

You know it’s coming before it happens. 

You could feel it, the shift in the air, the change in the atmosphere of the house. Something happened, something is going to happen. There’s something lingering on the precipice and it’s affecting the entire pack. They’re all on edge, all tiptoeing again. You hate it, but you can’t figure out what it is to fix it. It makes you almost feel sick with worry, your exhausted adrenal glands kicking back into high gear. You’re getting stressed and you don’t like it. 

You don’t know what it is, until you catch part of a conversation you weren’t supposed to hear. 

It’s midday and you’ve just woken from your daily nap. The sun is out for the first time in a week, though you know it’s still chilly outside. It’s shining in through the window, through the curtains you forgot to close. It’s a peaceful afternoon, or at least you thought it was. 

That’s when you hear the footsteps coming down the steps. Heavy, rushed thudding of boots. Two pairs of feet, you think, judging by the sound. Hushed voices murmur through the wall in a muffled conversation that has obviously begun upstairs. It sounds intense, something being debated or argued. 

Curiosity and that omega need to know what’s causing such a disagreement has you rising from your prone position. You kick the covers back quietly, slipping off of the mattress. You move slowly, tiptoeing across the floor until you reach the door. You’re quiet as you lean against it, pressing your ear to the wood. 

You don’t like what you’re hearing. 

It’s John and Simon, speaking hurriedly and angrily about something, something you don’t like the sounds of. You catch words here and there as they move across the living room towards the front door. A nervous twisting begins in your stomach as you stand there and listen to them, picking up a few words here and there from their conversation. Johnny and Kyle have left the house, and it’s likely they think you’re still sleeping, otherwise they wouldn’t be discussing this so out in the open. 

The conversation has stopped abruptly as the front door opens, boots storming out of the house before the door closes rather harshly. You stand there, holding your breath for a moment before footsteps turn, approaching your door. Your eyes widen as you push away from the wood, nearly leaping across the floor to dive onto the bed. You curl up in a ball, tugging the blanket over yourself seconds before the door opens. 

You have half a mind to feign sleep as footsteps approach the bed, but you know it will be useless. The stench of your nervous energy has permeated the room, the proof of your stressed state hanging heavily in the air. Emotions twist in your chest like the roiling of a stormy sea. He’d be able to tell in that way he always does, even if you could try to mask your scent. 

The side of the bed sinks as John sits down with a sigh. You lay there still for a moment before slowly rolling over onto your back. His shoulders are tense and tight, his hands closed into fists as he leans his elbows on his knees. It’s not hard to tell that the conversation ended on a negative note. Even if you hadn’t gotten up to listen in, you would have known by the slamming of the door and the tension in his body. 

He knows you listened in, but he doesn’t say anything as he sits there. Slowly you move, pushing yourself up to sit. You pull your knees into your chest, staring at the side of his face. He’s waiting for you to make the first move, to admit that you know what that argument between alphas was about. 

“You’re leaving.” Tears prick behind your eyes as you voice the summation of what you overheard from the conversation. Putting it into words has those roiling emotions stirring, rising in your chest until they threaten to choke you. 

He lets out another sigh, his gaze on the floor. “I have to do this.” 

So he really is leaving. The finality in his tone tells you there’s no convincing him otherwise. Those words tell you no matter how hard you fight, there’s no changing his mind. He’s going to do this no matter what. He’s going to leave no matter what you say, no matter how hard you try to stop him. He has to do this. He has to leave. Or, at least he thinks he does. 

Things were going so well. Things were finally starting to heal and now he’s threatening to undo them all once again. 

You can never have anything nice, can you?

“But you don’t.” You say, your voice wavering. Your heart is pounding in your chest, the threat of confrontation making your insides turn into a mushy soup. You have to try. You know it’s useless, but you have to try. At least you can tell yourself you did your best, you tried your hardest to convince him when he is gone. 

“I don’t have a choice.” He says, pushing himself upright. His eyes are hard and focused as he turns to stare at you. “I have to be sure.” 

“What about the rest of us? What about me?” You argue. “You can just up and leave when things are finally starting to heal and improve?”

“For this, yes.” He reaches for you but you flinch back. You’ll regret it later, but you don’t care about that right now. Right now, you’re too angry. 

“The job always comes first, right?” You say, staring at his hand where it lands on the bed. You sound broken and defeated. 

“This is more complex than that.” He shakes his head. 

“Is it?” You snap, holding his gaze. “Is it different? You said things would change.” 

“They will.” He tries to reassure you. “But this is something I have to do.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat, forcing down the words you want to scream at him. You want to hit him, shove him out of the room and lock the door. He promised you things would change, but then again, he’s broken promises before. He’s really willing to just up and leave in such a delicate time when bonds are being rebuilt within the pack. How little he thinks of you, of the rest of your pack. They won’t stop him either. He probably had to stop them from wanting to go too, to be there to assist him in this errand. 

Nothing has changed. It was all just empty promises from your pack. They can’t help what they are. They’ll never be able to stop doing what it is they were trained to do. Everything was a lie to placate you into healing, to stop you from severing the ties that hold you all together. 

You thought things were going to get better. 

How stupid you were. 

There’s a sour taste in your mouth as you sit there, staring hard at him. Of course he’d do this. Of course he’d break his promises. Of course he’d leave in a moment’s notice. You’re shocked he’s even told you. You’re shocked you got any warning at all. You wouldn’t put it past him to just up and leave, just like that without any warning. 

“You’re really leaving.” You whimper, your voice shaking with the emotions and the adrenaline pumping through your body. 

You don’t move your hand this time as he reaches for it, his fingers brushing over yours before curling around them. It should feel nice and grounding and reassuring, but instead it feels hollow and empty. You want to hate him, you want to get angry and scream at him, but you can’t. You can’t bring yourself to do that. Not after everything. You’re just so tired, so exhausted from fighting for this pack, for your place in it, for things to work. 

All that fighting and it was for nothing. 

“I have to.” He says, squeezing your hand. He stares down at your hands for a moment before looking back up at him. “Do you want me to come back?” 

You sit there staring at him, anger and resentment swirling inside of you like a violent storm. 

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[sanemistar]

contents ★ sukuna x fem!reader, fluff, a bit suggestive if you squint, brief mention of sukuna smoking, reader gets called a bunch of petnames

back: sukuna m.list ★ jjk m.list

★ you’re sitting across from sukuna as he catches you unintentionally staring at him. so, without saying a single word he stares right back at you with intensity. causing a heavy tension in the air between you and him as his gaze is completely locked on your eyes which makes your face turn as red as a tomato. for some context, you’ve had a crush on him for quite some time now, but too intimidated by him to confess your feelings, scared of being rejected if you do.

your eyes dare to look away from his before landing on his lips instead, and of course he takes notice of where your eyes are being placed at the moment.

“where are you looking, brat?” he uses his thumb to lift your chin up and you comply almost instantly, forcing your eyes to meet his once again. your lips part slightly as you are once again trapped in his alluring gaze. “you wanna kiss or something?”

“will you do it if i ask you to?” you respond absentmindedly in the heat of the moment. but before you realize what you just said, it’s already too late to take it back.

sukuna is slightly taken aback by your forward response, but it’s only for mere seconds before he goes back to his usual self. he removes his thumb from your chin and begins caressing your lips.

“depends on how you act, pretty doll. if you ask politely enough, i may consider it.” he leans in dangerously close to your face as he whispers in your ear.

you badly want to how it feels to have sukuna’s lips on top of yours, the scene plays in your head as you imagine it. so you decide to be bold and take the risk.

“can you kiss me right now? please..” you sound like you’re almost begging for it, but that doesn’t matter anymore because you’re far too deep at this point.

you can see his smirk gets darker, it seems that he’s satisfied seeing you so desperate for something as simple as a kiss. he knows you as one with quite the strong personality, so seeing you all fragile and putty in his hands excites him a lot, he’s very entertained by the idea of being the only one to see this side of you.

and so, sukuna wastes no time before resting his hands on your cheeks as he pulls you in for a deep kiss. the moment your lips touch, you can taste hints of tobacco from the cigarette that he’s smoked prior. you feel sparks inside your chest and butterflies all over your stomach. the way he kisses you is rough yet affectionate at the same time, and it’s so addictive that you can’t get enough of.

few moments have passed before you start gasping for air, so you break the kiss as you take some time to catch your breath. you still feel a bit dizzy as you open your eyes halfway. he looks at your hazy eyes and he’s even more excited.

“you deserve another kiss as a reward for being such a good girl.” little do you know that you’re getting more than just an extra kiss.

𝜗𝜚 taglist: @unriding @lxnarphase @sylusdoll @satorurize @itoshivy @17020 @luv-lies @suguru-getos @kasukuna @hellokittyish @gojoscinnamonroll

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

COOL FOR THE SUMMER- L. HOWLETT

pairing: older! dads best friend! logan x fem! reader

word count: 3.7k

summary: your dad urges you to come back home for the week he has all his college buddies back, and eagerly you agree because it means you get to see your crush, and your fathers best friend- logan howlett. little does anyone know your goal: to get logan to fall for you as hard as you've fallen for him

warnings: FINGERINGGG!, squirting, heavy praise kink, heavy size kink, innocence kink, daddy kink, manhandling, pet names, age gap (reader is 27, logan is mid/ late 40s), teasing, swearing, drugs and alcohol used, mentions of voyeurism

"i just wanna play with you too/ even if they judge, fuck it, i'll do the time, i just wanna have some fun with you/ got my mind on your body and your body on my mind/ got a taste for the cherry, i just need to take a bite/ don't tell your father, kiss one another-die for each other/ we're cool for the summer"- cool for the summer, demi lovato

It had been years since you had seen Logan Howlett.

And yet, when his eyes met yours- it was like he had never left.

The same gooey, sticky and sappy honey like feeling churned in your stomach when you saw him, making you feel all warm and giddy. You felt like ice cream melting under his heated gaze, just like the soft serve that was dripping down your fingers as you eyed him up from under your little heart shaped sunglasses.

It was hot today, the July heat showing you no mercy.

It had taken countless hours of whining, practically begging someone in the house to go with you to get ice cream.

It was fully packed this week, your dad doing his annual hosting with all his old college buddies- where they’d all drink beer and smoke by the firepit at night, and shoot darts during the day.

He had invited you home for the week too, to hang out with your mom and “keep her company” (whatever that meant), and she had left you for her bed and a bottle of wine.

You didn't blame her.

But it was 3pm, it was so hot you had your head in the freezer.

There was no ice cream to be found, even when you had pleaded with your dad for the keys to the car- and he had insisted there was some already at home.

What a little liar.

After countless pleads and begs, you had finally gotten his closest friend's attention- Logan.

You had always had a schoolgirl-like crush on the older man, it was deemed impossible not to. Everything about him was just so… manly.

Primal and hard edges, with a quick tongue and little tolerance for whining.

But somehow, you managed to play him like a fiddle. He caved, grumbling something about your brat like attitude, practically picking you up by your flimsy skirt and dragging you to his truck.

Now you were here, in the passenger side, sensually licking the dripping vanilla soft serve that trickled down the cone onto your fingers- eyes refusing to leave his body.

You perched your bare feet up on the dashboard, displaying your pink painted toenails skirt hiking up even higher on your thighs.

His grip tightened on the wheel, knuckles flexing as he stared at the road ahead, watching the pine air freshener swing side to side dangling from his mirror.

You knew he wanted you too. But he was too stern to cave into his urges, and you were determined this week to make him snap.

It had been years of this back and forth teasing, little touches and snide comments made whenever you came home to visit and he was around.

You weren't home very often, but when you knew he would show…

“You finally shut up now kid? Stop your whining n’ all that?” he grumbled and you giggled, hand slipping over to fiddle with loose change in his cup holders.

“Yeahhhh… thanks Lo. I really appreciate it. It’s just so hot ya know and I needed to keep my mouth occupied. S’boring.” you teased, licking your lips before taking another large lick of ice cream, savouring the cool, sweet treat on your tongue.

His apples adam bobbed, knuckles practically turning white.

He whipped into your driveway, nearly ramming into the dozens of other vehicles parked along the gravel, slamming on the breaks. It was enough to make you let out a little “oof” as he parked, turning the key in the ignition.

“You’re a spoiled princess. You know that?”

You raised an eyebrow, unbuckling your seatbelt to lean in closer to him, so close you could smell his cigars and sweat.

“Well I’m only home for so long, you know. And besides, I think you like that.”

His eyebrows furrowed, lines of annoyance creased across his forehead as he shook his head- as if he was trying to break free of some sort of trance.

You looked down, noticing a tent in his pants, and couldn't help but smirk before licking your ice cream again.

“Don't start with me kid. It won't end well for ya.” he warned, sticking a finger out to scold you, as if you were nothing more than a stupid child.

Slamming the truck door behind him, you watched from your seat as he stormed off into the house, and bolted to the nearest bathroom in the entry hall. 

-----------------------------

The first attempt got you somewhere with him.

He got all hot and bothered, refusing to even be in your proximity for the next few hours. It was later in the day, and yet the heat hadn't dwindled.

It was sticky and you were sweaty, groaning into your pillows as you fanned yourself. It was unbearable. The windows cracked open didnt help, and your dad rarely put the AC on.

But you had the perfect idea to break the dry spell.

You smiled mischievously, scampering over to your open window. You had the perfect view of the backyard, where your dad and his friends were lounging around outside, on the porch near the pool.

And there was Logan, with the perfect view of your window- and he was the only one turned towards you, as he cooked something on the grill, a cigar in his mouth- off in his own little world.

Bingo.

Your eyes zoomed in on your target, and as if he felt your gaze, his own flickered up to your window, gaze clashing with yours.

You licked your lips, slowly taking your (already sorta revealing) top off, leaving nothing to the imagination.

His eyes darkened, zoning in on you as if you were his prey, taking a long, sharp inhale of the cigar. He couldn't look away.

You let your hands trace your hardened nipples before fishing out a skimpy bikini from your dresser, tying it up in front of the exposed glass.

He shook his head, eyes fluttering closed as he flipped the food over to keep from burning, trying his best to appear focused on your dads conversation he would oddly be brought into some of the time.

Next was your shorts, then you tugged up the bottoms. Sending him a flirtatious little wave, you trotted down the stairs, snagging a clean, dry towel on your way to the pool.

You were desperate to get cool in the water- and to mainly- get Logan pent up again. It brought you such immense joy knowing his braided rope was uncurling, the pieces becoming thinner and weaker with each innocent smile and remark you sent his way.

Of course, no one else thought anything of it.

You were your dads good girl, charming and sweet and helpful.

But Logan knew. He always knew. He could sniff you out like a hound.

So when you walked out in your tiny little bathing suit, swinging your hips as you walked by him with not much more than a little glance, you knew he was about to lose his shit.

His fingers curled, tightening on the flipper as he looked over and noticed Bucky Barnes eying you up behind your fathers back, as if you were fresh meat.

Something like a growl escaped his lips, unknownst to you as you had already made your way over to the deep end, and dived in. A shirek left your lips as you splashed around in the cool water, basking in the sun as it started to slowly set behind the trees.

You looked over at Logan as he resumed his grilling, taking a slow sip of his beer, watching you as you treading over to the edge, resting your arms on the stone side, looking over at him with puppy dog eyes.

“Lo, could you pass me a beer?” you asked sweetly and he scoffed.

“No way kid.”

“Logan I’m twenty seven, I’m a big girl. Hand one over.”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, ignoring your protests.

“Come get one yourself then princess.” he growled through clenched teeth, cigar close to sputtering out.

“That's too much work.”

“Well? You want one?”

You huffed, rolling your eyes right back at him. “Fine. Be like that.”

You paid him no mind as you swam over to the other side of the pool, perched over to give Bucky that same sweet, sickly look that drove him head over heels.

He had a nice view of your ass though, from this angle. He couldn't complain about that, even if you were talking to a man who wasn't him.

“Mr. Barnes? Could you pass me a beer please?” you asked gently, and it wasn't even two seconds later before he was rushing over to hand you one.

“Course sweetheart. Just dont spill in the pool, or your dad will have my head.” You giggled, turning your head over your shoulder to give Logan a wink.

“Thank you Mr. Barnes.”

“Honey, Bucky is just fine. None of that formal shit okay?”

You nodded obediently, coaxing out a Yes Bucky before taking a long swig of the amber liquid.

Bucky leaned back in his seat, trying to re- engage with the conversation, his eyes darting constantly to stare at your figure as you floated, taking small sips of the liquid.

They were then met with Logan's heavy gaze, pupils so blown out and black he was lucky the BBQ wasn't thrown at his head at this very moment. 

------------------------------------------------ You nodded your head along with the old dad rock as you took a puff of your joint, letting the warm, fuzzy feelings cloud your judgements as you sunk deeper into the lawn chair, watching the flames from the bonfire grow higher as your father tended to it.

You knew he wasn't pleased with you smoking- but what the hell was he going to do about it? You were an adult. It's not like he could tell you you weren't allowed, anyways.

You felt Logans gaze from across the fire, the flames licking his pupils as he stared you down, while you were blissfully in your own world.

Your little sundress had his eyes wandering places they shouldn't have, and it didn't help that when the sun went down, the slight chill had found its home on your breasts, hardened nipples poking out of the soft fabric.

The more hits you took, the looser you felt, and before you knew it- you were dancing and spinning around to

“I Was Made for Lovin You” by Kiss after you had begged them to put it on- joint dangling out of your mouth.

Logan couldn't help but chuckle as you spun and clapped each time the drums hit- giggling to yourself as you watched him carelessly.

“Does anyone want another drink? I’m gonna go n get one.” you slurred slightly, resting your hands on the back of Bucky's chair as you tallied the requests.

Time was blurring back and forth, so whoever hadn’t  requested one was getting one anyways. You stared off into the distance with a dazed look on your face, coming back to reality when Bucky had turned, placing his hand on yours.

“Hon? You all good?”

“On clouds. I’ll be back. Bye!” you waved, giggling uncontrollably as you skipped back to the house.

You weren't expecting company, not hearing Logans muttering about going with you to keep you out of trouble to the group, eliciting chuckles from his friends.

Shaking his head, he rolled his eyes as he jogged to catch up to you, slipping into the kitchen right after you. You were giggling to yourself about god knows what as he entered, your red, heavy eyes sliding up to meet him from where he stood.

You were bent over the counter, rocking your feet up and down, swaying yourself- no intention of grabbing any beer.

“Hi Lo.”

His eyebrows raised with amusement.

“Whatcha doin here?”

“Keeping you out of trouble. Someones a lightweight, if I’ve ever seen one.”

You rolled your eyes. “Am not.”

“Don't deny it. It's cute.” He bit his lip as he looked you up and down, eyes lingering on the swish of the flowy fabric against your soft, plush thighs, and your breasts that were taunting him.

“M’supposed to get beers. But I don't know who for.” you sighed, turning around to face him.

You were so innocent, so adorable it made his heart shatter into a million itty bitty pieces, and his dick hard as a rock.

“Is that so?”

“Mmm. I think Steve wanted one.” you nodded to yourself, feet padding on the hardwood as you walked over to a cupboard, opening in and frowning in confusion.

“Kay I don't see any beers.”

Logan couldn't help but laugh, walking up behind you to place his large hands on your hips, guiding you over to the fridge.

“Don't laugh at me!”

“M’not laughing honey. Just giving my princess some help, yeah?” The word my slipped out faster then he could catch it, and he was thankful you didn't.

He’d never hear the end of it.

You opened the fridge and let out a squeal as he picked you up with ease, as if you weighed absolutely nothing, letting you scout out the whole fridge- grabbing the cold beers on the top shelf.

“Steve, n Bucky, n Logan… who else?” you murmured, wrapping your arms around the bottles to try and carry them all.

“That's all honey. Good job.” he cooed, placing you back down on the ground, shutting the fridge doors behind you as you set the bottles down on the counter, before perching yourself up onto the granite.

You swung your legs, parting them slightly as you watched Logan watch you.

Intensely.

You bit your lip, feeling your panties dampen even more than they already were- which was saying a lot.

You had rubbed and squeezed your thighs together so much because of the older man in front of you, and you weren't even ashamed. Anyone would, in your position.

“What are you thinking about Lo?” you asked, nickname rolling sweetly off the tongue.

You were the only one who called him that. You were the only one who was allowed to call him that.

“Nothin you need to worry your sweet lil head about honey.”

You bit your lip, batting your eyelashes up at him as he dared to inch even closer. The gap was slowly closing between you two.

You smiled softly, spreading your legs, your dress draped over your thighs so he had a clear view of the wet patch on your lacey pink panties.

He audibly growled, clenching his knuckles at his sides so hard they turned bright white as he let out a breath.

“I’ve been really wet for you all day Lo. And I really need your help.”

He took a deep breath. Shut his eyes. He could not do this.

It broke every rule in the moral code book. Seeing and thinking of his best friends daughter like this- what the fuck was he thinking?

But he was in too deep now. He didn't think he could part from you, from that little wet patch.

He could smell you. Practically hear your little clit throbbing.

“You always need my help. Don't think you could do anything yourself- even if you tried princess.”

You cocked your head innocently, slipping your fingers down to your inner thighs.

“I did do things by myself- all by myself. I touched myself to the thought of you filling me up and keeping me full of your cum n…” you broke off, giggling like a schoolgirl.

“And I just couldn't do it as well as you could Lo. You’re so big n strong, and your hands are so much bigger than mine, I’m sure they’d feel amazing.”

“Fuck. FUCK baby you cant-” he panted, slamming his fist down on the countertop.

You didn't even flinch.

“You can't say that shit. I can't- fuck- your my best friends daughter for fucks sake. Fuck.” he swore, and yet he was even closer to you.

Filling the gap between your parted legs, breath mingling with yours.

“And you’re high and just-”

“M’not super high. Just really fuzzy.”

He snorted. “Yeah, I’m sure. It's so wrong baby, but fuck I can't stop thinking about you. About this tight lil body I could just use and fuck the shit out of.” he groaned, head falling as he took another deep breath, restraining himself.

His words made your clit pulse even harder, and you were desperate for release.

“It's okay Lo. I won't tell anyone. Pinky promise.” your fingers reached out to fiddle with his dog tags as he lifted his head, hungry eyes staring at your lips.

He licked his own.

“I’m just- jus hurts really bad and I need some help. Please. Please, please I’ll be so good, not a word. Just a little touch, anything- please Lo.” you begged, puppy dog eyes staring up at him.

And how could he deny you? You just begged so pretty, your bright little eyes wide and hazy with admiration as you looked at him, making him feel like the most handsome, wanted man in the world.

He was caving, and caving until he caved.

His lips crashed down onto yours, full of want and need, the sweetness of your lipgloss giving him the balance he needed to fuel his fire.

His hands harshly gripped your inner thighs, holding them open as you whined and moaned into his mouth, trying to wiggle from overstimulation. He kissed you until your lips were swollen, gloss smeared as he peppered kisses down your neck, digging his fingers even deeper into your flesh, hard enough to mark.

“Lo-”

“Yeah, you need my help baby? You gonna let daddy take care of you now? Such a big girl, tryin do everything on her own- but she just needs daddy to do everything for her, doesn't she?”

You nodded dumbly, going into a trance like state as he cooed down at you mockingly.

“Fuckin driving you around all day, watching you in that skimpy lil bikini… now you just want some touches to your pretty lil princess parts, don't you baby? You're such a greedy girl.”

You whimpered at his words, feeling his large fingers trace your inner thighs, teasing you as he inched closer to your cunt.

A moan escaped you, your head lolling back against the cupboard as the pad of his thumb brushed the wet patch on your undies.

“Please, please daddy I’ll be so good. Jus please.”

“Awh baby, you sound so pretty when you beg. You're such a fast learner, aren't you? Such a bright girl, but youre going all dumb now hmm? Gonna let daddy touch you all nice n sweet?”

You nodded frantically as he pressed his thumb down on your clenching hole, the fabric getting sucked in as he pressed.

Finally he pushed your thong to the side, air hissing through his clenched teeth as he saw just how wet you were for him.

You were practically dripping right on the counter. Your juices glistened in the pale kitchen light, and you gripped his wrist as his finger brushed through your folds before entering you, curling inside.

“Feel so good-”

He chuckled darkly, watching your little reactions as he worked his finger before adding another one, stretching you out.

Fuck you were tight.

He wondered how you'd fit his cock. He watched every little move, when you gripped his wrist harder, when your little pants and moans slipped out of your pretty parted lips.

“S’big.”

“Sweet girl, am I touching all those parts you couldn't reach yourself? Feels good?”

“S’good.” You were already cockdrunk and he hadn't even put his cock in you yet. Drool was practically pooling out the sides of your mouth as your eyes rolled back in your head as his coos and praises.

“Don't have very long angel, the guys are gonna wonder where we’ve been.”

You nodded, gasping as his thumb came up to rub gentle circles on your clit, making you quiver and shake.

“And we don't want that, now do we? Daddys friends all seeing you perched up on the counter for me, spreading your legs like the sweet lil girl you are.”

The idea of you guys getting caught somehow brought you even closer to your release, as his fingers quickend their pace. The wet sounds of squechling brought heta to your cheeks, and fuck he loved it.

He loved how flustered you got, under his thumb- how you completely gave yourself over to him, so he could take care of you.

“Daddy I’m gonna-”

“Go ahead baby. I’m right here, I gotcha sweet thing.” he cooed, and that was it for you.

You weren't sure if it was the weed or simply Logan Howlett finally appearing where you wanted him most, between your legs- but your release came hard and fast, knocking the wind out of you as your juices squirted all over his hairy arm, some drips landing on his white tank top.

His eyes widened in surprise, a moan leaving his lips at the sight of you, making a mess all over his fingers.

He was aching in his pants, cock leaking with precum- but he knew he couldnt fuck you now. Not now, not here, and not when you were this dazed.

Instead, he planted a kiss and a praise to your forehead, grabbing a rag to clean you up with, leading you upstairs to your room. As soon as your head hit the pillow, you were out like a light, body still shaking slightly in your sleep.

He smiled to himself softly, enjoying this quiet moment of peace as he watched you- so vulnerable and at peace yourself in your bed. Draping a blanket over you, he kissed your forehead again, not once but twice as a promise, brushing the strand of hair that fell over your face back behind your ear.

Knowing the boys would be wondering where the hell he had been, where you had been- he rushed to the bathroom, relieving himself as quick as possible before grabbing the beers and rushing back outside, lying outright through his teeth.

But for you, it was worth it.

[sumi-sprite]

Might as well give this a try lol

READ: To make this interesting, if you ask about an OC, you can also ask me to roll a D12 to pick one of the listed 12 OCs to apply tot he question!

List of OCs. BG3: Larik, Mar'reen, Xo'to, Spinel, Ru (all Illithids), Vincent Wrathbone (Tiefling), Briar Thorn (half elf), Argah (hobgoblin).

Other OCs, various transplant fandoms, all considered "spirits" in fantasy settings: Hal, Samhain, Maestro, Clopin (formerly harley), Claudius.

Fandom OC Ask Meme

⟢⋱⟡☾ a collection of asks for OCs belonging to specific fandoms

How does (canon character) feel about your OC?

How does your OC feel about (canon character)?

Has your OC ever made (canon character) laugh? / What about cry?

Do your OC and (canon character) ever cross paths?

Which canon character annoys your OC?

What canon character gets annoyed by your OC?

Which canon character respects your OC most? What gained that respect?

Which canon character doesn’t respect your OC whatsoever?

Which canon character does your OC respect a lot?

Which canon character does your OC not respect at all? Why?

Which canon character is pissed off by the general presence of OC? (we all have those people)

Does your OC have a crush on anyone?

Who would probably have a crush on your OC?

Who would your OC most likely to get a puppy-crush on? (but it can’t be the cc they’re actually shipped with!)

Who would your OC say is their best friend?

Who would call your OC their best friend?

Who has brought your OC to tears before?

Who has your OC made cry?

Is there someone your OC didn’t like at first, but then got along with later?

Is there someone your OC liked at first, but then grew to dislike?

Who does your OC hate?

Who does your OC love? (platonic)

Who does your OC love? (familial)

Does your OC love anyone? (romantic)

Has your OC ever had to let a canon character down easy?

Has your OC ever been rejected by a canon character?

Did your OC bear witness to anyone’s full character arc?

What is the worst thing your OC does in their story?

What is your OC’s ‘‘darkness moment’’ in the plot?

What is your OC’s redemption moment?

Is there a canon character that your OC needs to ask forgiveness towards?

Is there a canon character your OC needs to forgive?

Is there anyone who your OC would die for?

Is there a canon character who would die for your OC?

Fandom OC Ask Meme

⟢⋱⟡☾ a collection of asks for OCs belonging to specific fandoms

How does (canon character) feel about your OC?

How does your OC feel about (canon character)?

Has your OC ever made (canon character) laugh? / What about cry?

Do your OC and (canon character) ever cross paths?

Which canon character annoys your OC?

What canon character gets annoyed by your OC?

Which canon character respects your OC most? What gained that respect?

Which canon character doesn’t respect your OC whatsoever?

Which canon character does your OC respect a lot?

Which canon character does your OC not respect at all? Why?

Which canon character is pissed off by the general presence of OC? (we all have those people)

Does your OC have a crush on anyone?

Who would probably have a crush on your OC?

Who would your OC most likely to get a puppy-crush on? (but it can’t be the cc they’re actually shipped with!)

Who would your OC say is their best friend?

Who would call your OC their best friend?

Who has brought your OC to tears before?

Who has your OC made cry?

Is there someone your OC didn’t like at first, but then got along with later?

Is there someone your OC liked at first, but then grew to dislike?

Who does your OC hate?

Who does your OC love? (platonic)

Who does your OC love? (familial)

Does your OC love anyone? (romantic)

Has your OC ever had to let a canon character down easy?

Has your OC ever been rejected by a canon character?

Did your OC bear witness to anyone’s full character arc?

What is the worst thing your OC does in their story?

What is your OC’s ‘‘darkness moment���’ in the plot?

What is your OC’s redemption moment?

Is there a canon character that your OC needs to ask forgiveness towards?

Is there a canon character your OC needs to forgive?

Is there anyone who your OC would die for?

Is there a canon character who would die for your OC?

[kaira-diaries]

Backstabber:

Warning: (Smut)(Violence, death, blood)(sickness)

Word Count: 15k(i have nothing to say)

Pair:(Fem!xFrontman)

A/N: The length is a lot..idek. Anyway, this loosely follows season two and when I say loosely I mean LOOSELY.

I hope you all enjoy, happy reading!!

Summary: A young woman finds herself desperate when her family falls into crushing medical debt. Seeking a way out, she enters the deadly Squid Games. Unbeknownst to her, the enigmatic Frontman—her boyfriend of three years, disguising himself as Player 001 and in deep debt, enters the game to protect her, navigating the brutal competition while concealing his true identity from her.

Masterlist <-

________________

Aware of every breath and movement, you were pinned down as In-ho finally peeled away your warm sweater, a contrast to the frigid temperature in his bedroom, completely naked before him and he before you. However all you could feel was his soft lips against your chest, leaving you breathless as he pushed in and out of you with blinding pleasure and strength. His kisses were anything but gentle as you locked your legs around his muscled back, pulling him closer, and he groaned in delight at such a position, dragging his perfect teeth up your neck and eventually reconnecting with your mouth.

You'd been holding onto the weight of a conversation you needed to have with him, the one about your father's medical illness and the mounting medical debt that was dragging your parents under like a relentless tide. You've kept it from him for a while. Was it out of shame? You didn't quite know, but it didn't seem like the kind of conversation to strike up while his tongue worked between your legs, making a mess on the edge of the dining room table. He was on you the moment you got home and after the long day you had, you needed it.  

Freeing him from your grip, you pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him, aching for control, something you've had to fight for with him the moment you began seeing each other. A look of disapproval shined in his eyes, but you pressed your palms against his warm chest, earning a scowl of impatience. You innocently smile, beginning to rock your hips. He held you, his grip like iron, as he watched you use him to reach your peak. With your head thrown back, his hands explored every inch of your chest; squeezing and grabbing at everything he possibly could. His grip on you was as tight as he could make it without hurting you, something he worries so much about. 

Mumbling sweet praises up at you, you whined, picking up the pace. 

"Fuck you're so beautiful riding my cock." He praised, almost making you shatter, and you would have right then and there until your phone began to buzz on the wooden nightstand next to his head. Your movements came to a sudden stop, making In-ho groan, "ignore it," he pleaded, but it was your mother's icon. 

With the weight of your father's illness in mind, you pulled off him. 

"It'll just take a second." You promised, answering the phone, trying to ignore the slow touch of In-ho's hand caressing your back and his lips sucking the skin of your neck. You slapped him. 

"Hi, everything okay? it's late."

Your mother's panicked voice crackled through the phone, her voice trembling with raw fear. "Y/n, you need to come to the hospital now. I-I don't-"

"Ma, I'll be there," you interrupted, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Just stay calm." You hung up without waiting for more, already throwing the blanket aside as you scrambled out of bed. 

"What going on? What's wrong?" In-ho's voice cut through the chaos, his concern evident as he sat up, his brows furrowed. 

Your mind raced, and the first excuse that came to you spilled out in a rush. "Something's wrong with the cat." You blurted, the lie feeling ridiculous even as you said it. Your shaky hands pulled on a sweater, jeans, and some boots, the urgency in your movements selling the story better than the words ever could. 

"What? the fucking cat? What happened?" In-ho looked confused but didn't question further as you fumbled to explain. "Their car's in the shop, and they can't get to the emergency vet. I have to go."

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, the sheets pooling around his waist. "I'll take you." 

"No!" you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended. The tension in the room palpable as his eyes searched your face for an explanation. 

One thing about In-ho: he never questioned you, and right now, you were grateful for that. "Okay." He said. "Just be careful." 

You nodded quickly, not trusting yourself to say more. Grabbing your keys and bag, you bolted for the door, your thoughts racing faster than your feet. The hallway felt suffocating as you sprinted to your car, your breath coming in shallow bursts. 

Sliding into the driver's seat, your hands trembled as you turned the key into the ignition. The engine roared to life but didn't drown out the panic in your mind. What could have happened? Was it worse than you feared? 

The rain from earlier had left the streets slick, and your headlights reflected off the wet pavement as you sped toward the hospital. You tried to steady your breathing, gripping the wheel so tightly your knuckles turned white. Every red light felt like a personal attack, each second dragging on like an eternity. 

Finally, you pulled into the hospital parking lot, barely bothering to park straight as you threw the car into park and leaped out. The fluorescent lights of the emergency entrance cast an unnatural glow over the scene, and the antiseptic smell hit you as soon as you stepped inside. 

Your eyes darted around the waiting room until they landed on your mother. She was sitting in one of the plastic chairs, her face pale, her hands squeezing a tissue. 

"Mom!" you called out, rushing to her. She looked up, her eyes red and puffy, and the sight of her broke something inside. 

"Y/n..." she began, her voice trembling as fresh tears spilled over. "Its your father. They-they said he's in critical condition. The doctors are with him now, but-" Her voice cracked, and she covered her mouth, unable to finish. 

You crouched down in front of her, taking in her hands in yours. : Ma, I'm here. I'm here, okay? We'll get through through this." Your voice was firm, but your stomach churned with dread. 

As you comforted her, a nurse approached, asking if you were your father's family. You stood up, your thudding in your chest. "Yes, I'm his daughter. What's going on?" The nurse hesitated, her expression grave. "The doctor would like to speak with you. Please follow me."

Your mother let out a soft sob as you squeezed her hand reassuringly. "I'll be right back, Ma," you whispered before following the nurse down the cold, sterile hallway. Each step felt heavier than the last as you approached the room where your father's fate would be revealed. 

The nurse led you to a small consultation room, where a doctor in scrubs was waiting, his face lined with exhaustion. He stood as you entered, his expression grim but composed.

"It's good to meet you, I'm Dr. Patel," he said, gesturing for you to sit. You barely registered the gesture, standing frozen as your pulse thundered in your ears.

"What's wrong with my father?" you demanded, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep steady.

Dr. Patel exhaled softly, his shoulders sagging under the weight of what he was about to say. "Your father's condition has taken a critical turn. His heart is failing rapidly, and the medications we've been using to manage his symptoms are no longer enough. He's in cardiogenic shock."

You blinked, the words slow to register. "What does that mean? Can you fix it?"

The doctor's lips pressed into a thin line. "The only long-term solution is a heart transplant. Without it, I'm afraid he doesn't have much time—maybe days, a week at most."

The air seemed to vanish from the room. You shook your head, trying to process. "A transplant? How... how soon could he get one?"

Dr. Patel hesitated, his gaze softening. "It's complicated. He'll need to be placed on the transplant list, and even then, matching him with a donor can take time. There's also the matter of cost. Even with insurance, the out-of-pocket expenses can be significant."

Your stomach twisted into knots. "How significant?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Typically, upwards of $150,000 for surgery, post-op care, and medications," he replied gently.

Your heart sank. You felt like the floor had dropped out from under you. "I can't… we can't afford that. Even with insurance, we're already drowning in medical debt. How am I supposed to…" Your voice cracked, and tears spilled over despite your effort to hold them back.

Dr. Patel leaned forward, his voice kind but firm. "I know it's overwhelming, but there are programs and organizations that can help. I can connect you with our financial counselor to explore options. Right now, focus on being here for your father."

You nodded numbly, standing on unsteady legs. "Can I see him?"

"Of course. He's sedated, but you can sit with him."

The walk to your father's room felt surreal, the hospital corridors stretching endlessly. When you stepped inside, the sight of him hit you like a punch to the chest. He lay still, pale and fragile, tubes and monitors surrounding him. The steady beeping of the machines was the only sound in the room.

You moved to his bedside, taking his hand in yours. His skin was cold, and the weight of his hand in yours felt too light, too fragile.

"Hey, Dad," you said softly, your voice breaking. "It's me."

Your thumb traced over the back of his hand as you blinked away fresh tears. "They said you need a new heart," you whispered, choking on the words. "And I know you probably don't want me worrying about it, but I'm going to fix this. I swear I'll find the money, no matter what. I'll get you what you need."

You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his temple. "You just hang on, okay? Just hang on."

The room was silent except for the rhythmic beeping of the monitors, but your resolve solidified with every passing second. No matter how impossible it seemed, you would find a way to save him. 

Whatever it took.

_______________________

Your hands were frigid, the cold from last night's visit at the hospital still clinging to you as you sat in the dimly lit coffee shop. The air smelled faintly of roasted coffee and winter rain, but none of it brought comfort. Across the small table, In-ho sat rigid, his shoulders drawn tight like a bowstring. His expression was a mask of unreadable calm, but his eyes—those lifeless, glassy eyes—made your stomach churn. There was no warmth in them, no spark of humanity like normal. Just emptiness. You swallowed hard, fighting the instinct to shiver under his gaze.

It happened every year around this time, right before his annual business trip. Yet somehow, it never got easier. That hollow, dead look in his eyes unsettled you more than you wanted to admit, leaving a weight on your chest like a stone sinking in water. He always returned, but the man who sat before you now was different—a stranger wearing the face of someone you loved.

Cupping your warm mug of coffee, you took a tentative sip, hoping the heat would chase away the chill that wasn't from the weather.

"How long will you be gone this time?" you asked, keeping your voice steady despite the unease bubbling under your skin.

"A week or so," he replied plainly, his tone deeper than usual and flat, devoid of emotion.

You nodded, forcing yourself not to press him further. He never shared much about these trips, and you'd learned to stop asking. But this—this lifeless version of him he always snaps into—terrified you in a way you could never quite explain.

He was scheduled to leave today after your coffee date, which explained the gel in his hair and the matching grey outfit he wore, fit for the cold weather. He looked good, but you adored his messy hair. You loved running your fingers through it during sex or washing it while in the shower. It was one of your favorite things about him, the second being his age. You were always into older guys. Despite being 25, men your age still had some maturing to do, so you decided never to dabble with them altogether. Time was precious. 

You traced the edge of your coffee cup with your finger, trying to fill the silence. It stretched thin between you, like a thread about to snap. 

"She's been calling me a lot lately." you said, attempting to steer the conversation toward something lighter. "Mina, I mean. She's gotten into some trouble again." 

In-ho's gaze shifted slightly, though his expression remained impassive. "Drinking?"

"And gambling, she's been asking for money," you added with a faint, humorless chuckle.

"Apparently, she lost a week's rent at that underground poker game she swore she'd never go back to."

His jaw tightened, just for a second quick. You almost missed it. "The one near the station, right? The one run by that man who drives the black sedan."

Your brow furrowed as you stared at him. "How did you know that?" In-ho's expression didn't waver. "You said she was into underground games," he replied, shrugging. "I've seen people like that around. They're dangerous."

The explanation was reasonable, and you opened your mouth to change the subject, but he checked his watch and stood. 

"I should get going," he said, his voice flat. 

You stood as well, the knot in your stomach tightening. "Be safe," you said softly. 

He nodded, leaning in to press a cool, detached kiss to your lips. It was brief, almost mechanical, and it left you feeling colder than before, but it was the same around this time every year. "I'll see you when I get back," he said, his hand briefly brushing your arm before he turned to leave. 

As you watched him walk out into the gray morning, your thoughts lingered on his odd familiarity with Mina's troubles. Something didn't add up, but the question lingered unspoken on your tongue, lost in the wake of his retreating figure.

The bitter dregs of your now-cold coffee lingered on your tongue as you forced down the last bites of a stale croissant, its once-flaky layers now reduced to a dense, chewy mass.

The contrast between this hurried breakfast and the elegant comfort of In-ho's apartment wasn't lost on you—each step toward the train platform felt like moving further from a dream back into your harsh reality.

The morning crowd jostled around you as you weaved between commuters, scanning for an empty seat while waiting. The number "150,000" pulsed in your mind like a neon sign, growing larger and more oppressive with each passing moment. It was a sum so vast it seemed almost abstract—like counting stars in the sky—yet the weight of its importance pressed down on your chest with very real pressure.

Finding an empty bench away from the crowd, you hugged yourself tightly, your fingers digging into the fabric of your jacket. The fluorescent station lights cast shallow shadows under your eyes, and you barely recognized the exhausted person staring back.

Your father's time was running out like sand in an hourglass, and here you sat, drowning in the knowledge that your family's existing debts were already a noose around your neck. Each potential solution you considered crumbled before it could fully form—loan sharks were out of the question, banks would laugh at your application, and friends... well, who among them could even spare a fraction of such an amount? Mina sure as hell couldn't.

It's then a well-groomed man sits beside you. His hair gelled back, similar to In-ho's. You felt his gaze on you, but you tried to ignore it until it became extremely uncomfortable.

Snapping your chin in his direction, you broke.

"What?"

"Hello ma'am, can I talk to you?"

You sighed as he continued.

"Listen, I want to let you in on a great opportunity." You stared down at your hands, not saying a word, when he opened a suitcase beside you.

Looking down at it, you find the game Ddakji next to three stacks of neatly piled money. You perked up a bit at that. The money wasn't enough to pay for the transplant, but it was a cushioned start.

"I'm sure you've played Ddakji before, right?" You nodded.

In-ho appreciated the game.

He held up the two squares, one red and one blue. "Play a few rounds with me. And each time you win, I'll pay you a 1,000. Each time I win you, you pay me the same amount." You bit your lip, feeling how stupid this was. In-ho would tell you to turn and walk away, and you wondered if this man was from that underground poker place Mina indulged in. But, stupid or not, you needed that money for your father.

Exhaling sharply, you agreed but warned the man.

"I don't have any money to spare." It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't true either. You had a decent income, but all of your money either went to paying off your parent's medical debt or to your father's treatments when you were able to pay out of pocket.

He held that same creepy grin, "How about you use your body to pay." You froze, your heart pounding in your chest as the words hit you like a slap. What did that entail? A chill ran down your spine, the blood draining from your face as you felt your breath catch in your throat. For a moment, you felt yourself sliding toward the edge of the bench, your limbs numb with terror.

The man, noticing your reaction, quickly shook his hands. "Not like that, no. I'll take 100 off per each slap to the face."

If a slap was the price to pay for losing, then you would endure it. For your father. You clenched your fists tightly, the memory of his quiet suffering and his desperate need for help fueling the burning determination inside you. You would do anything to protect him, even if it meant bearing humiliation, pain, or worse.

Anything.

You stood from the bench with a sense of purpose, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The salesman rose with you, his smile still wide, but there was a subtle shift in his demeanor—something darker, more guarded—as you reached for your red ddakji. Without hesitation, you slammed it down onto the floor, the force of your movement sending it crashing against his, the paper flipping with a satisfying snap. You didn't just win; you dominated, the sound echoing in the still air.

A small wad of cash landed in your palm, the crisp bills a reminder of the stakes, the desperation that had brought you here. Your pulse quickened, the fear dissipating with each flip of the ddakji, each round stacking your winnings higher. The salesman's smile faltered, but you didn't care. You were in control now. The game was simple, but the stakes—your father's fate were anything but.

Round after round, you flipped his every time, effortlessly outplaying him, earning more money than you'd ever imagined in such a short span. The cash piled up between you like a small mountain, but you didn't stop. You couldn't stop. Each win felt like a victory but also like a countdown to something darker, something you weren't sure you were ready for.

Finally, you sat back down, your breathing steady as you finished the game. The salesman handed you a card, its front emblazoned with three distinct shapes, each one sharp and clean, almost menacing. You flipped it over, the number on the back staring up at you—simple, unremarkable, but somehow heavy.

"There are other games like this," he said, his voice dropping slightly as if the offer itself was something that shouldn't be spoken too loudly. "Where you can earn even more."

His gaze held yours for a beat too long. The words lingered, tempting and ominous in their simplicity.

"We don't have many spots left." He added, a subtle edge creeping into his voice as he picked up his briefcase, the leather creaking under his grip. Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving you alone with the card, the money, and the quiet hum of uncertainty settling in your chest.

________________

POV: In-Ho

You sat at your desk, the glass of imported whiskey sloshing as you threw back the fifth pour, barely noticing as the amber liquid burned down your throat. The decanter was nearing empty, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. The quiet hum of the room was the only sound, and it settled you in a way nothing else could. Leaving y/n had always been difficult, but that was part of the game, wasn't it? Every year, it was the same—her muted resistance to your sudden change in demeanor, but every year, you also found yourself relieved to return to control, to snap back into that power you craved at your fingertips, to something that mattered all the same. Here, you were just mechanical; any genuine feeling of devotion dwindled until you returned home to her.

You leaned back in your chair, the leather creaking under your weight. The time you spent with y/n—it was never enough. And the more you tried to balance it with the games, the more you realized how impossible it truly was.

It was easy to pawn off the useless responsibilities to an underling, to let someone else handle the messes or orders that were beneath you. You had never cared about choosing the players. It was a waste of time. They were all the same to you: pathetic, greedy souls who saw the world through a selfish lens of self-interest.

Getting a phone call, you grabbed the receiver.

"This is The FrontMan speaking. Yes, we are ready to begin."

You set the receiver back down, the soft click of the phone's cradle cutting through the heavy silence of the room. Without a second glance, you reached for the mask resting on the edge of the desk, its cool surface like a familiar presence. Your fingers brushed against the contours, feeling its weight and its unspoken authority. With deliberate ease, you secured it in place, the cold, smooth material pressing against your skin as your identity vanished beneath its form and lifted your hood.

You stood and moved toward the door, your footsteps controlled and purposeful. The air seemed to thicken around you as you passed through the threshold, a shift in atmosphere marking the change. The elevator was waiting—silent, steel, and patient. With a practiced motion, you pressed the central control room button, the elevator's quiet hum responding to your command. The walls around you seemed to close in as you descended. You were going to the heart of it all now, where the control pulse beat steady and unyielding. And there, you would resume your place.

The elevator doors slid open with a quiet, effortless motion, revealing the sterile, dimly lit expanse of the control room. Your men, standing at attention, parted like the Red Sea, clearing your path. They were all towering figures, silhouettes in the shadiness of the room, their presence unwavering and mute. As you stepped out onto the cold, polished floor, you felt the shift—the room realigning as though the game had officially begun.

You glanced at each man in turn, your eyes sharp, and you calculated behind the mask, assessing every one of them with practiced ease. They stood frozen, their posture rigid, hands at their sides, waiting for your next command. You could almost feel the anticipation in the air, stout and expectant.

"Let's start," you said, your voice cold, clipped and filtered. The words carved through the silence. Without hesitation, the men moved to their stations, their bodies sliding into their chairs with precise, mechanical ease. There was no wasted motion, no hesitation.

"Wake them up."

The room came alive, the screens flickering to life one by one. The quiet hum of machinery filled the air, a low, steady rhythm as the monitors illuminated, casting a cold glow on the walls. The lights in the player's quarters were activated, brightening the room as a spokesperson illustrated it was time to wake up.

You stalked closer to the screens, trying to get a sense of the new herd. Your gaze exhausts each face as they adjust, blinking groggily, some still lost in the fog of sleep. You monitored the strongest as they rose quicker, as the weakest fought off the remaining effects of the sedative.

Abruptly, it felt like the air had been punched out of your lungs, your heart plummeting into the pit of your stomach with a force that left you momentarily paralyzed. Your gaze locked onto the screen, catching something—someone—that sent a chill racing down your spine. At first, you thought it couldn't be real, that your mind was playing cruel tricks on you. But the unease clawed at you, refusing to be dismissed.

"Zoom in on player 150," you ordered sharply, your voice slicing through the tense silence in the room.

The screen obeyed, zooming in on the figure until every detail came into agonizing clarity. And then you saw her.

Your breath hitched. Her messy bedhead—the kind you used to tease her about—was unmistakable. She stretched her arms above her head, a familiar routine you'd witnessed countless mornings. Her flawless lips, her face, her eyes. Every inch of her was burned into your memory, and now, there she was.

Standing in the middle of your slaughterhouse.

The woman you've bared your soul to.

"Y/n," you whispered, your voice barely audible, strangled with disbelief and fear. Panic gnawed at your insides, twisting and tightening until it felt like your very core would shatter.

How had she ended up here?

What is she keeping from you?

Of all the people, of all the possibilities—why her?

___________________________

POV: Y/N

The first thing you noticed as you stirred was the faint hum of distant sounds. Your sense of hearing returned before anything else, pulling you from the haze of sleep. You groaned softly, rubbing your eyes as the world around you came into focus.

Fragments of memory surfaced, disjointed but vivid—the musty smell of the van, the creak of its rusted doors, the tattered upholstery that looked like it had seen far too many years. You had hesitated, your hand hovering over the handle, your instincts screaming at you to turn around and walk away. The vehicle was a wreck, the kind of thing you'd imagine a junkie—no offense—might live out of.

But then you thought of your father. His face, his struggle, the weight of it all. That single thought was enough to override your doubts. You had climbed into the van despite every instinct telling you to do otherwise.

Sitting up, you took in your unfamiliar surroundings, momentarily distracted by the nagging awareness of your terrible bedhead. In-ho always teased you about it, though deep down, you suspected he secretly liked it.

Swinging your legs over the edge of the cot, you paused as your fingers brushed against the fabric of what you were wearing. A pajama-like tracksuit, simple yet strange. Your gaze dropped to your chest, where a number—150—was neatly sewn over your left breast.

You frowned, your brows knitting together. "What the hell?" you whispered under your breath.

Looking around, the murmur of movement drew your attention. Other people—strangers—were stirring, dressed in identical tracksuits with different numbers stitched onto their chests. They began to gather hesitantly in the center of the vast room, their expressions mirroring your confusion and unease.

The room itself was massive, stark, and cold, resembling a warehouse stripped of purpose. Above you, suspended ominously from the ceiling, hung an enormous glass piggy bank—empty but somehow radiating a strange sense of suspicion.

Your muscles ached, a dull soreness settling into your body as you stretched your arms overhead, trying to shake off the lingering stiffness, and stood to join the pack of people. The air was heavy, thick with tension and the quiet rustle of fabric as the other players moved cautiously, their faces tight with uncertainty.

As you loosened up, your eyes flicked back to the piggy bank, unease pooling in your stomach. Whatever was happening here, it was far from ordinary—and the number stitched onto your chest felt like it was branding you into something you didn't yet understand.

“Y/n!”

The sound of your name rang out, cutting through the murmurs around you. Your head snapped up, scanning the sea of unfamiliar faces until your eyes locked onto someone you knew—a lifeline in the chaos.

"Oh my God, Y/n!"

It was Mina. Your Mina. Her face lit up with that unmistakable grin, even as the bold 067 stitched across her chest seemed wildly out of place. Relief flooded you, and without thinking, you bolted toward your best friend, your heart leaping in your chest.

"Mina!" you shouted, skidding to a stop just before throwing your arms around her neck. She caught you with a squeal, pulling you into a tight hug as you both burst into a flurry of half-laughs, half-cries.

"What the hell are you doing here, you bitch?" she blurted, pulling back just enough to hold your shoulders, her grin a mix of disbelief and sheer joy.

You laughed, shaking your head. "I could ask you the same thing!"

For a moment, the strangeness of the situation melted away. The towering walls, the eerie piggy bank above, the sea of strangers—all of it faded into the background. Because right now, in this surreal hell, you weren't alone.

Mina shrugged nonchalantly, her lips twitching into a crooked grin. "What can I say? It seems like my hobbies have gotten me into trouble again. Only this time..." She gestured vaguely to the massive, ominous piggy bank hanging above, her tone dripping with mock cheerfulness. "...the stakes are just a little higher."

Your brows furrowed, a sinking feeling settling in your chest. "Oh god, Mina. What did you do?"

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, biting her lip in that telltale way that meant she was about to drop a bombshell. "Well," she started, drawing out the word like she was recounting a funny anecdote, "I kind of... might've signed my physical rights away."

Your stomach flipped. "Excuse me?"

"Yup." She nodded, her voice light, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of unease. "If I don't cough up what I owe by next month, I can kiss a kidney goodbye." She gave you a sly grin, trying to downplay the gravity of her words. "On the bright side, I've always wanted to know what it feels like to live with just one."

Your hand shot up to cover your mouth, your heart pounding in disbelief. "Mina...surely you're joking?"

She shook her head, the grin never entirely leaving her face. "Afraid not, babe. But hey, at least this mess has good storytelling potential, right?"

"Mina!" you exclaimed, punching her shoulder. She laughed, though it came out slightly strained. "What? It's not like I can do anything about it now. Besides, kidneys are overrated anyway."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Mina, could you please stop giving me reasons to worry?"

She gave you a sheepish grin, her shoulder bumping yours playfully. "I'll try, but no promises." Then, her expression shifted, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "What about you?" she asked, folding her arms. "Why are you here? And where's that delicious boyfriend of yours?"

Your cheeks warmed slightly, and before you could stop yourself, you swatted her arm, a soft snicker escaping. "He's on a business trip," you said, trying to sound casual. "Probably miles away from this place."

You turned your head toward her, but the knowing look in her eyes stopped you short. She tilted her chin, her gaze sharpening. "Uh-huh. But you didn't answer my other question."

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, the humor between you flickered, replaced by something heavier. Her gaze stayed steady, probing, as if she could see right through you.

A sharp, jarring buzz suddenly filled the air, slashing through the low murmurs in the room. You flinched at the sound, your heart skipping a beat as all heads turned toward the massive double doors at the far end of the room.

With a mechanical hiss, the doors slid open in perfect synchronization, revealing a line of figures that marched in with unnerving precision. They wore identical uniforms—a stark, unnatural shade of pink that contrasted sharply against the cold gray of the warehouse walls.

Their faces were entirely hidden behind black, featureless masks adorned with bold, white shapes: circles, triangles, and squares, just like the strange card you'd been handed by that man.

The sight sent a shiver racing down your spine. The guards moved with eerie coordination, their presence suffocating and cold, as if they were more machine than human. The room seemed to shrink under their gaze—or what you assumed was their gaze, though the masks gave away nothing.

"I'd like to extend my warmest welcome to you all."

"Everyone here will participate in six different games over the next six days. Those who win all six games will recieve a handsome cash prize." One of the guards stepped forward, his voice sharp and authoritative as it rang out, though it was muffled slightly by the mask. You strained to make out the words, but before you could process them, a man standing near the front of the group raised his voice, cutting through the tension.

"Why the hell should we trust you?" he shouted, his tone laced with anger and desperation. His words hit a chord, murmurs of agreement rippling through the players around you. It wasn't an unreasonable question—after all, you'd been drugged and dragged here against your will.

Your chest tightened as you remembered the van, the haze, the disorientation of waking up in this strange, sterile place. Beside you, Mina suddenly grabbed your hand, her fingers lacing tightly with yours. Her grip was firm, almost crushing, and when you glanced at her, her wide eyes told you she was just as terrified as you were.

The guard's reply came swift and clinical, delivered without an ounce of emotion. He mentioned something about a consent form, the words rolling off his tongue with practiced ease as though this wasn't the first time he'd said them. His tone made it clear there was no room for negotiation.

Your stomach churned as the players began to shuffle forward hesitantly, forming a disjointed line. Each person who stepped up was handed a pen and a sheet of paper, the details too far away to make out. The tension in the room was noticeable, every movement slow and deliberate, as if everyone knew they were crossing a threshold they could never return from.

When your turn came, you stepped forward on shaky legs, Mina's hand slipping from yours as she stayed rooted in place. You barely noticed her whispered "Y/n…" as you reached for the pen.

The words on the page blurred before your eyes. You couldn't bring yourself to read the fine print—it didn't matter. You already knew why you were here.

Your hand trembled slightly as you signed your name, the black ink cutting starkly against the crisp white paper. Whatever this was, whatever it demanded of you, your mind was made up. You'd get that money no matter what it took.

As you turned away, clutching the pen tightly, your heart felt like a drum pounding in your chest. Behind you, Mina's gaze burned into your back, her silence louder than any words she could've spoken.

As the last of the players signed their names, the guards gestured for everyone to move, their silent presence ushering the group out of the dorms and into a large, clean hall. The air was cool and clinical, the kind of atmosphere that sent a shiver up your spine despite the lack of overt threat.

One by one, each player stood in front of a sleek screen where their photo was taken. Mina, of course, couldn't resist making a ridiculous face, puffing out her cheeks and crossing her eyes as the camera clicked.

You doubled over, a genuine belly laugh escaping your lips, the sound echoing faintly in the vast hall. For a fleeting moment, it felt like old times, like the world wasn't crumbling around you.

As the line moved, you and Mina ended up side by side, trailing behind the group as you ascended a winding staircase. The metal stairs clanged beneath your feet, the sound rhythmic and oddly calming despite the tension in the air.

"So," Mina drawled, nudging your shoulder with hers, her grin mischievous. "Fill me in. How's it been going with In-ho?"

A warmth spread through you at the mention of his name, and you couldn't help the soft smile that tugged at your lips. "He's been… nothing short of extraordinary," you admitted, your voice almost wistful.

Mina hummed knowingly, her grin widening. "I see. And the sex?" she asked, her tone teasing as her brows waggled suggestively.

You groaned, rolling your eyes. "Ugh, Mina, quit being gross. Let's focus on the game ahead."

She threw her hands up in mock surrender, snickering. "Alright, alright. I'll save it for later," she said, her tone light but her eyes scanning the room ahead, where more guards waited in eerie silence.

As the two of you continued up the staircase, her humor lingered like a comforting presence, a small anchor in the chaos. You couldn't help but feel grateful for her, even if she drove you nuts.

Turning the final corner, you stepped into a vast, open space that made you stop in your tracks. The ground beneath your feet was soft sand, its golden grains warm as they shifted with each step. Overhead, artificial sunlight bore down with an intensity that made you squint, the air thick with the illusion of a desert afternoon.

“Wow,” Mina muttered, her tone a mix of awe and unease. She kicked at the sand lightly, watching it scatter. “This is… interesting.”

You nodded, your eyes scanning the expanse of the room. It felt surreal—like stepping into another world completely removed from the cold, metallic dorms. The space stretched endlessly in all directions, its vastness unsettling.

As you wandered further in, something across the way caught your eye. Narrowing your gaze, you nudged Mina in the arm, breaking her attention away from the boy she had been half-flirting with beside her.

“What?” she asked, frowning slightly.

“What’s that?” you said, pointing toward a shape in the distance.

Her eyes followed your arm, squinting against the glaring light. When she finally spotted it, her expression twisted into a mixture of curiosity and discomfort. “It looks like…” she hesitated, leaning in slightly, “a creepy doll.”

Your stomach churned as you took in the eerie figure. Even from a distance, something about it felt wrong.

Before you could respond, a sharp, mechanical crackle echoed through the air, making you flinch. A smooth, automated female voice spoke over the intercom, its tone disturbingly cheerful.

“Welcome to the game room. For your first game, you will be playing Red Light, Green Light.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Red Light, Green Light?” you muttered, glancing at Mina with an incredulous smile. “You’ve got to be kidding. A children’s game?”

Mina shrugged, her lips quirking into a half-smile. “What? Would you rather play chess?”

You snorted softly, shaking your head. “Definitely not.”

The voice on the intercom continued, reciting the rules with an unnerving precision that made the simplicity of the game feel sinister. “When the doll says, ‘Green Light,’ you may move forward. When the doll says, ‘Red Light,’ you must stop immediately. Any players caught moving during ‘Red Light’ will be eliminated.”

The word eliminated lingered in your mind, sending a cold chill down your spine.

When the announcement ended, a sudden, oppressive silence settled over the room. The guards lined the edges of the space, their presence a stark reminder that this was no ordinary game.

Mina reached for your hand, gripping it tightly. “We stick together, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered, lacing your fingers with hers. Despite your nervousness, her touch grounded you, giving you a flicker of reassurance.

The two of you exchanged a nod, solidifying your pact, before turning your focus toward the looming doll in the distance. The game was about to begin, and there was no turning back now.

____________

POV: In-Ho

You could hardly bear to watch.

Your heart throbbed in your chest, a suffocating pressure building as your mind screamed with one agonizing question: What if she dies?

The thought hit you like a sucker punch, the weight of it crushing your ribs, stealing the air from your lungs. If she died—if she dies—you’d be left with nothing. Nothing but the hollow emptiness of a life that had lost its purpose, your balance between light and dark. There would be no going back. No reason to move forward. You'd be a shell, wandering through a world that suddenly felt unbearable.

The air in your quarters felt thick as if the very walls were closing in on you. You couldn’t stand still, couldn’t think clearly. You paced back and forth, each step fraying your nerves further. Your breath came in ragged gasps, shallow and fast, desperate for relief that never came.

You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t—

The glass in your hand was warm, the drink inside it burning your throat with its bitter sting. And without thinking, you hurled it across the room, the sharp crash of glass against the wall.

For a split second, you stood frozen, staring at the mess. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

Your chest tightened painfully, each breath harder to take than the last. You couldn’t control it anymore—the rage, the fear, the overwhelming helplessness. You wanted to roar and tear this facility to shreds, but it was all out of your hands now.

A player could only be removed from the game if they're eliminated.

The glass shards glittered on the floor like the pieces of your shattered resolve as you stared into it, and all you could do was stand there, trembling, fighting against the suffocating tide of emotions threatening to drown you.

"Green Light,"

Your eyes locked onto the screen, your gaze trained on her every move. You circled the couch, your steps restless, like you couldn’t stand still even if you wanted to. Every muscle in your body was tense beneath the grey jacket. Every fiber of your being was focused on her.

You could see Mina beside her, their hands tightly clasped together. It almost felt like an anchor, a momentary reassurance—but not enough.

Not nearly enough.

You silently begged Mina—pleaded with her—to hold it together. To not screw this up.

If Mina stuttered, if she moved a fraction too soon, if she hesitated for even a second—y/n would follow. And that thought made something tighten painfully in your chest.

You could feel your pulse roaring in your ears, a fierce rush of adrenaline as the seconds stretched on like hours. Your hand itched to pry her fingers away from Mina’s, to pull her closer, to shield her from the inescapable bloodbath.  

"Red Light."

You exhaled sharply, your body going rigid as you watched her, your heart skipping a beat. Her number hadn’t been called, but the terror that played across her face as she witnessed the eliminations around her carved a hollow, painful hole in your chest.

She stood there, frozen, her eyes wide with raw fear as bodies dropped one by one, their lives snuffed out in an instant.

The sound of each shot rang out like a death knell, each one making her flinch, the horror of it all consuming her.

The games were necessary, but you never wanted y/n within a mile of them, and she didn't deserve a spot. She didn't deserve this.

You couldn’t bear it as guilt flooded your head, asking yourself how you could let this happen. How you could be so oblivious. How you could be so careless.

Your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you rubbed your thumb over your lip, trying to steady your breath, but the panic was suffocating. She was scared, and you could see the paralyzing dread in her eyes as the remaining rounds went on.

Your torture had ended as she and Mina made it across safely, allowing your body to release tension.

Your mind raced, every thought swirling with desperation as you considered all the ways you could protect her. Every option seemed dangerous, every move a step closer to exposing yourself to her. Your fingers ran through your gelled hair, the tension in your shoulders mounting. You knew the truth—if she found out... It would destroy her.

And that was far worse than the lie you were living now.

Your gut clenched bitterly as the weight of the situation sank deeper into your chest. She’d never understand. She couldn’t. No matter how you tried to explain it, the truth would damage her. And you weren’t sure if either of you could survive the aftermath.

You sank into the loveseat, your eyes shifting to the mirror ahead of you. The reflection staring back was unrecognizable.

The image in the glass shattered every preconceived idea of who you were supposed to be in this place. The leader. The cold, calculating mastermind who pulled the strings from behind the scenes. The man who kept his emotions in check, who moved through the shadows without hesitation.

But now?

Now, you could feel the walls crumbling, the mask slipping off with each passing moment. The control you had so carefully cultivated was eroding, and it was because of her.

The realization hit you like a wrecking ball.

You were losing yourself to her—losing one of two things that had kept you alive this long. And the only reason you were willing to let it all slip was because of y/n. Because you didn’t want to watch her suffer, you didn’t want to see that terror in her eyes, knowing you're the cause.

A plan developed in your mind, sudden and dangerous. A twisted solution, but one that could save her.

You would have to enter the games.

For her.

And as the weight of that decision settled over you, you had an odd feeling that this was it. 

__________________

POV: Y/N

Your heart was in your throat, pounding so hard you thought it might burst.

Your legs gave out beneath you, trembling so violently that Mina had to grip your arm just to keep you upright. Her voice cracked as she shouted your name, her panic etching through the fog of your stunned silence. You couldn't move, couldn't breathe. You'd never seen someone die like that— so sudden, so violent. A clean shot, some might call it merciful. But there was nothing merciful about the way bodies crumpled to the ground, lifeless in an instant.

Now, back in the dorms, you leaned into Mina, your head heavy against her shoulder. Her breathing was ragged, her frame trembling beneath your touch, and for a moment, you felt like you were both about to shatter.

"So," Mina whispered, her voice raw and barely holding together. "If you lose the game..you die. The words hung in the air like a noose tightening around your neck. She tried to laugh, a sharp, bitter sound that made your stomach twist. "Quite the plot twist, huh?"

You jerked back, glaring at her through the blur of your tears. "Are you serious right now?"

"What else am I supposed to say?" She snapped, throwing up her hands. "We signed the damn contract, y/n. It's not like we didn't know there'd be consequences."

"Not like this," you muttered, your voice breaking as you clutched your knees.

Mina sighed, running a shaky hand through her hair. "What do you want me to say? Crying about it won't change anything. It won't bring those people back. It won't get us out of here."

Her words stung, sharp, and cruel, but you knew she was wrong. You bit down hard on your lip to keep from breaking apart completely. Crying wouldn't help. Begging wouldn't help. Whoever these people were, they weren't going to care about tears or fear. This wasn't just a game anymore—it was survival.

You sat silently next to Mina, absently picking at a loose thread on your shirt, your mind spinning in endless circles. The room felt suffocating with unspoken fear.

Then you hear it—a voice you hadn't heard in what felt like forever.

"Y/n?"

The whisper of your name cut through the haze. Your head snapped up, and your heart dropped into your stomach. Standing in front of you was In-ho.

For a moment, you thought your eyes were playing cruel tricks on you. He looked exactly as you remembered—same disheveled hair, same piercing eyes. But his expression...it was off. Shock, disbelief, maybe even a glint of betrayal flickered across his face.

Your body moved before you could think. You pulled away from Mina, stumbling to your feet. Your legs felt weak, your breaths shallow, and every nerve in your body screamed that this couldn't be real.

"In-ho?" you choked out, your voice trembling.

Without a word, he closed the distance between you and wrapped his arms around you. The hug was tight, almost desperate, as though he needed to hold you as much as you needed to be held. His scent hit you like a jolt—so familiar, so grounding. It shattered the doubts swirling in your mind.

You froze, your arms hanging limply at your sides as the weight of his embrace pressed into you. Was this real? Could it be him? Tears blurred your vision as you returned the hug, clutching him like he might disappear if you let go. A broken sob tore from your throat.

But even as relief coursed through you, a shadow of doubt lingered, clawing at the edges of your mind. What was he doing here? Why now? And why did it feel like something was wrong?

Pulling back, In-ho's hands gripped your face tightly, his fingers trembling with barely contained fury. His eyes burned into yours, raw and piercing.

"What the hell are you doing here, y/n?" he demanded, his voice low and rough.

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. The tears you thought had subsided returned in full force, choking you. He guided you to sit, his movements sharp and forceful, like he was holding himself back from shaking you for answers.

You gulped for air, your chest heaving as you forced the words out. "My father… he's sick."

The admission felt small, fragile, and yet it hit him like a hammer. He exhaled sharply, the sound heavy with disbelief and frustration. His gaze dropped to the floor, his jaw clenching so tightly you thought he might snap.

Behind you, Mina shifted uncomfortably, her presence a tense reminder of the world around you.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he finally said, his voice strained, the anger giving way to something else—hurt.

Before you could answer, he swiped a thumb across your cheek, wiping away the tears with surprising tenderness. The contrast was jarring, his touch soft against the intensity of his gaze.

"I didn't want you to worry," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

In-ho scoffed, pulling back as he ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. "You didn't want me to worry?" he repeated bitterly. "Do you even realize—" He cut himself off, shaking his head.

But your own questions burned too hot to stay buried. You leaned forward, your voice trembling but steady enough to challenge him. "Why are you here, In-ho? Why did you lie to me?"

His head snapped up at your words, his expression hardening into something unreadable. For a moment, you thought he might not answer, that he'd leave you to drown in your doubts. The silence was deafening, the weight of everything unsaid threatening to crush you both.

"I'm here because I didn't have a choice, y/n," he said, his voice low and strained. "The company…I put everything into it. I thought I could make it work. I thought I could save it."

He swallowed hard, his eyes darting away from yours. "But the debt...it swallowed me whole."

Your stomach twisted, the air suddenly too heavy to breathe. "Debt?" you repeated, your voice shaking.

He nodded, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "It got bad—worse than I ever let on. Loans, investors, deadlines. I tried everything to fix it, but nothing worked."

Your eyes filled with sorrow as you reached for his hand, your fingers trembling slightly as they intertwined with his.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice breaking under the weight of everything.

He huffed softly, his lips pressing into a thin line. "For what? I got myself into this."

You shook your head, gripping his hand a little tighter. "For everything. For keeping secrets, for the company. For getting ourselves into this mess."

In-ho's eyes softened, his resolve cracking just enough to let you see the pain behind it. He scooted, his free hand lifting to cup your cheek. His touch was warm, steadying you in a way words couldn't.

"I swear to you," he said, his voice low but filled with determination, "I'll keep you safe during the games."

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as a tear slipped free, wetting his palm. For a moment, the chaos and fear melted away, leaving only the connection between you.

"Everything I do," he continued, his voice softer now, almost reverent, "will be for you."

Your breath caught in your throat—until Mina's voice cut through the air.

"Okay, lovebirds, hate to interrupt your heartfelt moment," she said, leaning on her elbows, "but we're still stuck in a life-or-death situation. Maybe save the romantic monologues for after we survive?"

In-ho's eyes darted up to Mina, his expression instantly shifting from tender to thoroughly exasperated.

"Mina," he said flatly, his tone carrying the weight of someone barely holding onto their patience.

She flashed a wide, overly fake smile, tilting her head like she was posing for a sitcom. "Been a long time, hasn't it?"

In-ho's jaw tightened as he let out a sharp breath through his nose. "Not long enough," he muttered under his breath.

Mina, unfazed, grinned wider. "Oh, come on, don't act like you're not happy to see me. I bring joy wherever I go."

In-ho shot her a deadpan look. "Joy, or chaos?"

"Tomato, to-mah-to," she quipped, shrugging.

You tried to stifle a laugh, which only made In-ho shoot you a betrayed look. "You're laughing? Really?"

Mina threw her arm around your shoulder, grinning smugly.

"See? I'm a gift."

____________________________

Meal time passed in a blur as you scarfed down a hard-boiled egg and a small cup of water. It wasn't much, but enough to stave off the gnawing hunger. In-ho, without hesitation, handed you his share, sliding the egg and water toward you with a sweet look in his eyes.

"You need it more than I do," he said simply, ignoring your protests. Mina, never one to let a moment pass with commentary, let out an exaggerated scoff, teasing In-ho and making her remark.

You shot her a glare, "Mina," you said with a sharp edge in your tone.

"Relax," she retorted, smirking as she propped her chin on her hand. "I'm just saying it's cute. Like a scene from a bad rom-com."

You placed a hand on In-ho's arm, silently urging him to let it go. Mina was a professional instigator, and her relentless jabs were as much a part of her personality as her quick wit. He huffed but turned his focus back to you, muttering something under his breath about how she'd been insufferable since the moment he met her.

Later, you lay curled up under the thin blanket on your assigned bed, its scratchy fabric doing little to shield you from the cold. The tension in the room felt slightly less suffocating with In-ho nearby. He'd managed to switch beds, though "convince" wasn't exactly the right word. You'd watched in uneasy silence as he cornered another player—a scrawny man with wide, fearful eyes—and murmured something low and dangerous. Whatever he said had sent the man scurrying away without a second thought.

You weren't sure how to feel about it. Grateful, maybe. Uneasy, definitely. But with In-ho so close, his steady breathing just within reach, you felt a rare sense of safety in a place where none should exist.

The stifling silence of the dorm settled over you as you tried to relax, but sleep remained evasive. The thin mattress beneath you felt harder with every passing moment, and a nagging pressure in your bladder made it impossible to find peace.

You sighed, rubbing your sweaty palms over your face before throwing the blanket off and slipping out of bed as quietly as you could. The cold floor sent a shiver through you as you tiptoed toward the heavy steel door.

With a hesitant knock, you waited, and after a moment, the small window slid open, revealing a pair of eyes behind an ominous black mask.

"I need to use the restroom, please," you whispered, your voice cracking slightly.

The guard's voice was mechanical and unyielding. "No one is permitted to leave during this hour."

You let out a frustrated sigh, shifting uncomfortably. "Please, it's an emergency."

The guard remained silent, and you opened your mouth to plead again when a voice from behind you called out.

"Let her out."

The command was sharp, cold, and filled with an authority that made the hairs on your neck stand on end. You froze, turning slightly to see In-ho standing a few steps away, his posture rigid and his eyes dark and unreadable.

The tone of his voice was unlike anything you'd ever heard from him before—calculated, commanding, almost chilling. It was the kind of voice that left no room for argument, and even the guard seemed to hesitate, the weight of the demand hanging in the air like a threat.

Your breath caught as the guard finally relented, sliding the door open with a reluctant nod towards In-ho. You glanced at him, his face shadowed by the dim light, and felt a strange mix of gratitude and unease settle in your chest.

The guard stepped aside, motioning for you to follow as the heavy steel door groaned open. You glanced back at In-ho, expecting him to stay behind, but he was already moving to fall into step beside you, his expression unreadable.

The cold air of the corridor hit you like a wall, sending a chill through your already tense frame. The guard's imposing presence loomed ahead, his boots echoing ominously against the concrete floor. You hesitated, then turned to In-ho, your voice low.

"You don't have to come with me, you know. I can take care of myself," you murmured your tone a mix of gratitude and concern.

His eyes flicked to yours briefly before scanning the dim hallway around you. The shadows seemed to shift and stretch with every step, making the atmosphere feel even heavier.

"I stay with you," he muttered, his voice quiet but firm, as though the walls themselves might be listening.

You noticed the way his shoulders remained taut, his movements calculated as if expecting danger at every corner. His eyes darted to the guard ahead, then back to you, and for a moment, you caught a glimpse of something deeper in his gaze.

He stayed close, his presence a shield against the unsettling stillness of the corridor.

Reaching the bathroom, you pushed the door open, feeling the cool air inside as it contrasted against the heat building in your chest. You stepped forward, but before you could make it inside, In-ho followed, his movements swift and deliberate. With a forceful push, he slammed the door shut behind him, trapping you between him and the wood.

You gasped, caught off guard by the sudden intensity of the situation. "What are you doing?" you started, but the words died in your throat.

In-ho didn't answer. Instead, he moved closer, his breath warm against your skin as he cupped your face with his hands. Before you could protest or fully understand what was happening, his lips crashed against yours, silencing everything around you.

For a moment, everything went still—your heartbeat, the weight of your breath, the tension in the air. Then, slowly, you let yourself sink into him, your body responding to his touch with a deep, aching need you hadn't even realized was there. You kissed him back with all the desperation and longing that had been building since the moment he left that coffee shop, your hands reaching up to pull him closer, craving the connection, the heat.

His lips were soft yet urgent, and the kiss deepened, a powerful force that seemed to push away everything else—the fear, the uncertainty, the danger. All that mattered in that moment was him and the way he made you feel safe. You hear the lock click, then feel the touch of In-ho's hand on your waist. You pull back, In-ho's lips working against your neck.

You chuckled, "We can't fuck in the bathroom," You choked as he bit your neck. "Says who?" he uttered against your skin. You smiled with a gasp, "The people that run this place." He only pulls you closer, scooping you into his arms. You look down at him, legs wrapped around his back, "don't worry about them."

Laying you gently on the nearest sink, you pulled him closer as he slid his hands under your shirt, cupping your breasts while sucking at your neck. You whined at the sensation, yanking his jacket and shirt off. You needed him.

Now.

"This is wrong," you arched into his touch as he squeezed. The thought of fucking in a place of death, a place of violence, chilled your spine.  

"Tell me to stop, then." He orders.

You couldn't find the words, thoughts drowned out by need—by desire, and you felt him smirk against your skin.

Reaching for the edges of your shirt, he lifted the fabric over your head, laying it behind you on the cold granite.

You ran your fingers through his hair, tugging at the silken strands as he groaned at the ache. You smiled, tugging his head back, attaching your lips and dragging your tongue to his jaw, his neck, his chest—anything and everything you could reach.

With one quick motion, he pulled you off the sink, turning you around and pushing you face-first into the sink. His palm held your head to the cool granite, keeping you in place. Your breath hitched as he pulled your pants down, taking your underwear with. His hands squeezed and grabbed at your ass before administering a sharp slap. You cried out as he leaned into your ear.

"You want me to fuck you?" You whined, your eyes closed, taking in the moment with him. "Fuck you so the guard outside knows who you belong to you?"

He tugged at his pants, removed them completely, and aligned himself to you. He pushed into you with a force that knocked the air from your lungs.  

Your neck was pulled at such an angle that you could see yourself in the mirror—cheeks red, lips puffy, and mouth agape as In-ho was mercilessly fucking you. Your hips ached from the force of hitting the counter, making you shriek. He groaned, "I missed you," he leaned forward again, and you grabbed at his neck behind you, pulling him closer.

You whined, "I-I think—" he grabbed at your jaw, "cum for me," he demanded, forcing your climax to shatter through you. Biting at your shoulder, he fucked you through it, reaching his peak a moment later.

As he slowed, he kept himself right where he was, wrapping his arms around your front and offering a sweet kiss to your cheek.

"That was fun, but I really need to pee." You whispered.

Sitting up slowly, you watched as In-ho moved around the small bathroom, his movements almost automated as he dressed. The sound of fabric rustling filled the silence, but inside, you felt anything but calm. A wave of guilt, heavy and suffocating, crashed over you, the weight of it pressing down on your chest.

What had you just done?

You both had fucked like everything was fine, like you were on some sort of carefree vacation, lost in the moment. But this wasn't a vacation. This wasn't a time for pleasure or escape. People were dying here—people you didn't know, people you'd likely never see again. And yet, you had let yourself indulge in something as fleeting and intimate as this as if nothing mattered. As if you were safe.

The realization hit you with sharp clarity. You were not safe.

You stood quickly, your hands shaking as you hurriedly slipped your shirt and pants back on. The fabric felt tight and foreign against your skin, as if you were suddenly aware of the gravity of every movement, every breath.

You glanced over at In-ho, who had stopped midway through shrugging into his jacket, his eyes narrowing slightly as he caught the change in your demeanor. His gaze softened, but the concern in his eyes only made the guilt in your stomach churn harder.

_______________

The next game arrived faster than you had anticipated, and the tension in your chest only deepened as you prepared yourself for whatever twisted challenge awaited. You instinctively attached yourself to In-ho, walking shoulder to shoulder with him, Mina's hand securely in yours. The three of you were a united front, or at least you tried to be. In-ho, however, refused to acknowledge it, his disdain for Mina simmering just beneath the surface, his gaze sharp and focused as he kept a distance between them.

Entering the game room, your breath caught at the sight before you: a massive merry-go-round, the painted horses eerily still, surrounded by a strange sense of foreboding. You couldn't help but glance around, trying to make sense of it all.

"Any ideas yet?" you asked Mina, but before she could respond, In-ho cut in with an air of certainty.

"Mingle," he said simply.

You turned toward him, a flicker of surprise in your eyes. "How are you so sure?"

Mina's brow furrowed with suspicion, matching your confused look as she eyed him closely. In-ho gave you both a quick glance before answering with a confidence that made your skin crawl.

"The rooms, the platform. It's obvious."

Without another word, he walked ahead, leaving you and Mina in his wake. Mina leaned in closer, her voice low, filled with an edge of concern.

"Don't you think he's guessing a little...too well?"

You pushed her lightly, a knot forming in your stomach as you caught onto the insinuation.

"Don't be silly. We don't even know if he's right."

But Mina wasn't letting it go. She grabbed your shoulders firmly, her eyes crinkling with worry, her voice taking on a more urgent tone.

"I'm saying this as your bestest friend, y/n," she insisted, her gaze locking onto yours, "but something feels off." Her grip tightened, and you felt the weight of her words settle in your chest.

Her voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible, as she leaned closer.

"I've been watching him. I've caught this look in his eye—this calculated look—and it's just giving me this god-awful feeling. The way he threatened that older man, how quickly he figured things out... doesn't it make you wonder why he just randomly appeared after the first game?"

You could feel your heartbeat quicken, the creeping unease crawling up your spine. Mina wasn't the type to stir the pot without reason, and her concern was palpable, making your own doubts resurface. You hadn't noticed it before, but now—he was different. His reactions, his confidence—it all seemed a little too... precise. Too perfect. Not to mention the guard shrinking from his demand.

You swallowed hard, trying to push the rising fear down. "Mina... you're overthinking it."

But the doubt gnawed at you, and the unease in your gut only grew heavier.

"Maybe I am," Mina said, her voice filled with uncertainty but still holding a note of conviction.

She paused, then added, "Just listen for the announcement. If he's wrong, you can spend the rest of our lives rubbing it in."

She gave a slight, teasing snicker, her smile a little more strained now, as if trying to lighten the growing tension.

"Just don't die on me and ruin the moment," she added, the last part almost playful, but there was an underlying concern in her voice.

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound coming out a little too nervous to be genuine, but you couldn't help it. "Oh, don't worry," you said, forcing a grin as you nudged her shoulder. "I'm definitely going to outlive you."

Mina's arm swung around your shoulders, pulling you in tight for a brief, tight hug. Her grip was almost protective, and you could feel her warmth seep through your clothes, an odd comfort in a place like this.

"If you do outlive me," she muttered into your ear, "just promise me you'll still remember who had your back when no one else did."

Her words were light, but you knew she meant them as the two of you stepped on the platform next to In-ho.

The familiar woman's voice echoed, but it felt distant like you were hearing it through a thick fog, muffled and hollow.

"Players, welcome to the second game."

A chill ran down your spine.

"For your next game, you will be playing Mingle.”

Your heart stopped.

No, it couldn't be. Not this. The ground beneath you seemed to tilt, and for a moment, everything went still. Your body felt weightless, detached from the reality around you. The world felt like it was spinning, but you were anchored somewhere far away, watching yourself as if from a distance.

You glanced at Mina, your hand trembling in hers as your gaze locked onto hers, the panic written all over your face mirrored in hers. The sound of the woman's voice faded into static, her words becoming unintelligible as your hearing seemed to dull, the world slipping further from your grasp.

You squeezed Mina's hand with a strength you didn't know you had, but the pressure in your chest only tightened. Her expression softened into something akin to sorrow, the pity in her eyes somehow making everything worse. It was as if she could feel what you were experiencing—the crushing weight of the game's announcement.

Too afraid to look at In-ho, you kept your eyes fixed on Mina, clinging to her as if she could pull you back from the edge as if she could stop everything from falling apart. But the feeling—the sense of drowning in your own mind—was overwhelming, suffocating. The fear clawed at you, and you couldn't stop it, couldn't stop the sense of losing yourself in the chaos of it all.

It was like the world was rushing forward, and you were stuck, frozen in place, unable to breathe.

It was as if everything fell into place in that moment, the pieces of the puzzle clicking together with a sickening clarity. The rush of realization hit you all at once, and it was like a weight was crushing your chest.

You thought back to the things he'd said, the things he'd done—each one a thread leading you to this horrifying truth. The way he'd spoken to you at the coffee shop, so calm and calculated, the same cold detachment in his voice now. That look in his eyes—it wasn't just about the game, wasn't just about survival. It was something darker.

He knew exactly where Mina was losing her money. He knew, and he didn't care. And that violent threat he made to that man—it wasn't a slip of anger, wasn't a moment of desperation. It was deliberate. Purposeful. The guard, too, obeying him without question—it wasn't just chance.

"Don't worry about them," he had said in the bathroom. And now, the words echoed in your mind, twisted with new meaning, the lie hanging heavy between you.

You turned to him slowly in that instant, your heart hammering in your chest. The betrayal was like a sharp knife, cutting deeper with every passing second. His cold countenance met your gaze, and in that moment, it all became painfully clear. His indifference to everything, to everyone around him—it wasn't survival for him.

It wasn't coincidence. It wasn't a fluke. It was him.

You looked down and off in the distance.

The games — It was him.

Mina's grip tightened around your hand, pulling you forward off the platform in a blur. You hadn't even realized the game had started—your mind was still reeling, the weight of the revelation suffocating your thoughts. The number 2 echoed in the air, and the pressure of the game became all too real.

Before you could even process what was happening, a sudden force yanked you back, your arm jerking as a strong hand latched onto you. You were pulled against a hard, familiar chest, and you barely had time to breathe before you recognized the feeling—the cold, unyielding presence of In-ho.

A jolt of panic shot through you, but Mina wasn't letting you go that easily. She struggled to break free, her hand reaching for yours, fighting with everything she had to drag you away from him. But it was no use, as a passerby knocked her down with a strong force.

In-ho was swift, dragging you toward the nearest room without hesitation, his grip firm on your arm. The sound of footsteps echoed in the hall, but before you could even register the danger, a man appeared from the shadows, lunging forward and knocking you to the ground.

Twenty seconds

The urgency of the countdown pulsed in the air. In-ho reacted in an instant, grabbing the man by the shoulders and slamming him back.

"Get in! Go!" he barked, his voice cutting through the chaos.

You didn't need to be told twice. Fear surged through your body, and you bolted for the room, throwing yourself inside. But as the door slammed behind you, your heart sank—there was already someone in the room. The man's partner, standing tall, blocking the way.

In-ho was hot on your heels, entering just a moment later. His eyes immediately locked onto the intruder.

"Out," he commanded coldly, his voice carrying authority. But the man stood his ground, refusing to move.

Ten Seconds

In-ho didn't hesitate. He circled around the man with lightning speed, his movements precise and calculated. Before the man could react, In-ho had him in a chokehold, his grip unyielding.

The room felt smaller, the air thicker, as your pulse raced in your throat. Terrified, you backed against the wall, eyes wide with panic. You could feel the countdown in your chest, each second more suffocating than the last.

5...4...3...2...1

A sharp, sickening crack split the silence, and the man's body went limp in In-ho's arms, his life snuffed out in an instant. The room seemed to freeze, and for a moment, all you could hear was the ringing in your ears.

You slid down the wall in a daze, your breath shallow as you pressed your hand to your mouth, trying to stifle the shock and nausea threatening to overwhelm you. You couldn’t look away from the lifeless form, the reality of what had just happened sinking in, making your head spin.

Mina.

You jumped to your feet, looking out the small window of the room.

You couldn't find her.

That was a good thing, right?

Remaining in the room, that same woman's voice spoke over the loudspeaker.

"The following players have been eliminated."

"Player 022, 120, 207..."

You tried to block out the sound of the numbers, each one echoing in your mind like a drumbeat, relentless and deafening. But then, the one number you’d been desperately praying would never come—the one you feared more than any other—was announced.

"Player 067, eliminated."

The words felt like a physical blow, crashing into you with an intensity that took your breath away. A cold, sinking feeling spread through your chest as reality shattered. The world blurred around you, the weight of the announcement pressing down on your entire being, suffocating you.

You screamed, the sound raw and desperate, a cry that seemed to tear from your very soul. You screamed until your throat burned, until the pain in your chest was too much to bear, until everything in your vision distorted in the haze of shock and grief.

And then, cold hands gripped your shoulders—too cold, too steady. In-ho pulled you, almost as if he were dragging you into the abyss with them. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t think. All that remained was the sound of your own voice breaking, the empty, hollow realization that you’d lost someone you couldn’t afford to lose in this hellish place.

His hands guided you down to the floor, but your legs refused to hold you. You crumpled, your body trembling violently as the weight of the loss crushed you.

There was nothing but the scream in your throat and the terrible, empty silence that followed the words you could never unhear.

____________________________________

You didn’t remember slipping into unconsciousness, but in that moment, it felt like a mercy—an escape from the crushing weight of reality.

When you awoke, everything felt distant, foreign, like you had been transported to a place where nothing mattered anymore. The world around you was different, but you barely registered it, your mind too numb to care.

In-ho stood in front of you, his presence as suffocating as the silence that hung between you. His eyes bore into yours, but yours were hollow, glassy, stripped of the light they once had.

"Drink this," he murmured, extending an undersized glass of liquor. His voice was steady, yet cold, as if rehearsed. You took the glass with trembling hands but not to drink. With a sharp motion, you hurled it across the room. The glass shattered against the wall, fragments raining down like jagged tears.

"You're despicable," you spat, the words seething with venom. His face barely flinched, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of something-pain? Regret? It didn't matter.

"You were never meant to be involved, y/n. If you would have just come to me about your troubles this wouldn't have happened."

You scoffed, your lip curling in contempt. "Oh, and everything would have been perfect, wouldn't it? You jetting off on your little 'business trips,' murdering people, while I stayed home like some clueless fool, keeping your bed warm and smiling like an idiot. Is that how you imagined it?" 

Your voice wavered, thick with bitterness, as tears burned your cheeks.

"How..how could you do it?" He circled you, slow and deliberate, like a predator cornering prey. He sank into the loveseat behind you with an air of calculated calm, gesturing for you to sit. His hand barely moved, a silent command. You didn't budge.

He sighed, "I'm doing this for us, for you. Don't you see? The people chosen for the game are parasites—leeches consumed by greed and selfishness. They deserve to be eliminated from existence. Whether they're crushed in the process or crawl away with their filthy riches, it doesn't matter. Either way, they're removed from our world."

Your breath caught in your throat, the words slicing through you like a jagged blade. For a moment, you couldn't speak, couldn't even think. His voice, so calm, so calculating, made your skin crawl.

"For us?" you finally choked out, your voice trembling, caught between disbelief and anguish.

 "How can you even say that?"

He didn't flinch, didn't waver, his eyes cold and distant. But you? You were unraveling. Your chest heaved as if trying to contain the storm brewing inside you.

"People? Parasites? Is that what you think they are? Is that what you thought Mina was? Is that why you had her killed?

"Is that what you think I am?" The words came out sharp, but your voice cracked under the weight of your emotions.

That seemed to get to him. He rose from his seat with slow, deliberate movements, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You?" he said, his voice softer now but no less chilling. "You're not like them."

He began walking toward you, his steps measured, almost cautious, like he was approaching a cornered animal.

"You're not here for your own gain, not for greed or selfish desires. You're here for your father, fighting to save him. That’s why I-I” He started, but you scoffed cutting him off.

But as he drew closer, you instinctively stepped back, your feet moving before your mind could catch up. A cold rush of fear swept over you. You'd never been afraid of him before, but now? Now, you couldn't trust what he was capable of.

"In-ho... don't," you whispered, your voice shaking.

He froze mid-step, his hand half-raised toward you, his brows knitting together. "Don't do that," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "Don't back away from me. Please, don't... don't be afraid of me."

Your heart clenched, but his words didn't bring comfort. They only deepened the chasm between you.

How could this be the same man who once made you laugh until your sides hurt? Who wiped your tears with such tenderness that you thought your heart might burst from the love you felt for him? Memories surged through you—the quiet mornings, the stolen smiles, the promises whispered in the dark. You thought of every moment you had shared, the man you believed in, the man you loved with everything you had.

And now, here he was—a stranger standing before you, cloaked in the shadow of someone you used to know.

"How can I not be afraid?" You whispered, your voice barely audible. You felt the knife twist in your back. Your eyes dropped to the crimson spreading across your clothes, the sheer volume of people's blood making your stomach churn. You trembled uncontrollably, paralyzed by shock and disbelief. Through your haze of agony, you caught In-ho's gaze. His expression was a storm of guilt and regret, but it only deepened your devastation as you crumbled before him.

Finally, your voice cracked again. "I…I need space."

His expression faltered, pain flashing across his face. "Space?"

You nodded, wiping your tear-streaked face with trembling hands. "I can't… I need to think. Please."

He hesitated, then nodded slowly, though his posture screamed reluctance. "You can take the spare bedroom," he said softly. "Down the hall, second door on the left."

Without another word, you turned and walked away, your legs heavy and unsteady beneath you. When you reached the room, you stepped inside and slammed the door shut, locking it before leaning back against it. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, your mind racing.

After a moment, you crossed the room, grabbing fresh towels from the small cabinet. You needed to wash it all away—the day, the deaths, the violence. Everything.

The bathroom was dimly lit, the only sound the steady rush of warm water from the shower. You stepped inside, sinking down onto the cold tile floor as the water poured over you, mixing with your tears.

Your mind raced, flashing back to the chaos of the day—the screams, the blood, the merciless decisions. And at the center of it all, the one pulling the strings was him. In-ho.

But then, as much as you wanted to hate him, memories of the past three years flooded your mind. His laughter that lit up even your darkest days. The way he'd hold you, whispering that everything would be okay. The small, thoughtful gestures that made you feel so loved. The way he'd make love.

You buried your face in your hands, the water soaking through your hair and down your bare skin. You still loved him. Even after everything, your heart ached for him.

But how could you reconcile the man who once made your world brighter with the man you'd seen today? The man who was capable of orchestrating so much death and pain?

Your shoulders shook as sobs wracked your body. You didn't know what to do. You didn't know if you could forgive him or if you could ever look at him the same way again.

And yet, even in the depths of your confusion and heartbreak, one thing was painfully clear—you still loved him, but you're not even sure he existed anymore.

__________________

It had been two weeks, two long weeks of isolation. You barely left your room, only emerging when absolutely necessary —for food or the fleeting desire for a change in scenery. In-ho had tried, time and time again, to draw you out of your silence, but every time he spoke, every time his eyes met yours, you couldn't even bring yourself to acknowledge him. The pain was still too raw.

Now, standing in front of the mirror, brushing your damp hair, you let the motions soothe you for a moment. The simple act of taking care of yourself felt almost comforting. But then a knock at the door broke through the quiet.

You approached cautiously, heart beating faster as you turned the knob, only to find In-ho standing there. He said nothing at first, just looked at you, his expression unreadable.

"I want to show you something," he said, his voice low.

You hesitated, shaking your head, instinctively wanting to retreat back into the safety of your room. But his next words made you pause, the sincerity in his eyes pulling at something deep inside of you.

"Please."

It was a simple plea, but it held something genuine—something that made you want to trust him, just for a moment. You sighed, giving in, and followed him down the hall to his office.

The space was quiet and orderly as always. In-ho circled around his desk and sat down, and you stood, hugging your arms tightly to yourself, feeling the chill of the room. He beckoned you over, and you approached, curiosity and apprehension warring in your chest.

He opened a file on his computer, and as the video began to play, your eyes scanned the screen. You recognized the area instantly—it was right outside the city hospital, a place so familiar to you.

And then, you saw him. Your father, sitting in a wheelchair. Beside him, your mother. And the woman next to them…

Mina.

Your heart leaped in your chest, the tears welling up in your eyes as the weight of the moment crashed down on you.

You blinked, trying to steady yourself as you turned to In-ho, your voice shaky. "How..."

He looked back at you, his tone softer than you expected. "Mina was removed from the games. Her death was faked." He turned the screen toward you, showing more of the footage. "As for your father, I made sure the necessary funds were sent and lined him up with a donor."

A sense of relief flooded through you like a tidal wave. You didn't know whether to laugh or cry, but one thing was clear—everything was going to be okay.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you could breathe again. The people you cared about were safe. Your father was getting the help he needed, and Mina—Mina was alive.

Tears streamed down your face, but they were no longer tears of grief. They were tears of release, of a weight finally lifted.

In-ho's gaze met yours, his eyes unwavering as he reached out to take your hands gently in his. His touch was warm, grounding, as if he was trying to reassure you, to remind you that you were no longer alone in this.

"I swore to you," he said, his voice low and steady, "that everything I did, every decision, every action—it would be for you."

You slid into his lap, your knees trembling as you took his face in your hands, wiping away the stray tear that escaped down his cheek. His skin felt warm against your palms, a comfort you had clung to so many times before, but now it only reminded you of how much had changed—how far apart the two of you had drifted.

"All these years," you began, your voice breaking as tears welled in your eyes, "all I've known is what you've allowed me to know. Half of who you are. And I loved that half—I loved it with everything in me." Your voice faltered, but you forced yourself to continue, your fingers trembling as they traced the curve of his jaw. "But this," you said, gesturing to the cold, sterile facility surrounding you, "this is something I can't forgive. These people… they're not parasites or leeches. They're human beings, In-ho. Human beings who were dealt a bad hand. And you've turned their suffering into a game."

His brows furrowed, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, but he said nothing. You could see it—the war raging in his mind, the guilt and conflict he was too proud to admit. You leaned in closer, your forehead almost touching his as you whispered, your voice trembling, "I'm going to give you a choice."

His hands slid up your waist instinctively, as if trying to anchor himself to you, trying to hold on to the one thing he couldn't bear to lose. You felt his grip tighten, desperate, but you pressed on, your words cutting through the silence.

"Come home with me," you said, your voice cracking with emotion. "Leave this all behind and we can reset. Walk away from this nightmare, because if you don't…" Your breath caught as tears spilled freely down your cheeks. "If you don't, In-ho, you will never see me again."

His eyes widened, a flicker of pain flashing across his face as he processed your words. You saw the gears turning in his mind, the walls he had built around himself crumbling under the weight of your ultimatum. His grip on you faltered, his hands trembling as he clung to you like a lifeline.

"In-ho," you whispered, your voice barely audible, "please. I can't save you from this. You have to save yourself."

For a long, agonizing moment, he said nothing, his silence filling the room like a deafening roar. And as you stared into his eyes, searching for the man you had loved for so long, you realized this moment would either be the beginning of something new—or the end of everything.

[adorerio]

Whatever you say captain

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haikyuu ! captains and how they plot on fem!reader because who doesn't love a guy that puts in the work

fluffy fluff ~ word count: 1.8k

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Daichi he first met you during 1st year and was instantly hooked. Maybe because it was how you carried yourself or your personality but he knew for sure he would make you his girlfriend. Now just because he met you during 1st year didn't mean he made his move then. Nope, he made it during 3rd year.

Daichi He started small (with the help of Kiyoko and Hachi) first it was compliments.

"your hair looks lovely l/n"

"you gotta tell me how you always make people smile"

"you really are funny l/n"

Daichi then started inviting you to practices because he wanted to show off needed a 3rd opinion on his new move. This was all part of his plan which was to impress you sooo much you would ask for his number. Did it work?

nope

Daichi showing off didn't work neither did his constant compliments so now what was left?

"KIYOKO PLEASE LET ME HAVE HER NUMBERR"

"No, ask for it instead. She likes a guy who has confidence."

and so that's what he was going to do man up and ask for it himself.

Daichi who after class sprinted to your class to catch you and ask for it. When he did make it he saw you talking with your group of friends

"excuse me ladies may I borrow l/n for a moment?"

your friends who started teasing and whispering about how you actually pulled

"shes all yours"

After your friends left it was awkward for just a moment he was trying to put it into words I mean it was supposed to be simple right? But-

"Is there something you need Sawamura?"

"oh right, well l/n I've been trying to court you all year which maybe it was my fault for not being straight forward but is it possible I could get your number? So we can get to know each other and maybe ask you out?"

He scaratched his neck waiting for your response..

"well I'm free right now if you want to come with me to a cafe.."

"that would be lovely then l/n"

--------------------------------------------------

Bokuto he first met you because you were friends with Akaashi. Now he noticed you really didn't have friends to hang out with during break and lunch. So he started inviting you to hang out with him and Akaashi and a trio was created.

Bokuto after a few months of your new found friendship he started getting that feeling. He was always nervouse around you and definitely always wanted to be in your good graces. Of course he didn't realize it was a crush until he saw another 2nd year try to ask for your number. Now he knew he would not let you give your number away to anyone that wasn't him. Even tho he already had it.

Bokuto now his approach to plotting wasn't the best but it was definitely something- scare off any guy until he was your last option. Did he even realize he was being overprotective? No, but it was bound to work at some point. Or that's at least what he was telling himself.

Bokuto It actually took you a while to find out what was happening. After another case of ghosting you started to question it. Was it your appearance? Or the long distance? Of course you would tell your friends about your problem and how you scared away guys.

"Wait so there just ghosting you? They clearly don't know what their missing y/n"

"Yes they just are! I don't even know why it's happening Keiji"

"Its because of me y/n!!"

"Whatever do you mean Ko?"

"Because they aren't worthy of courting you y/n so I tell them to go away"

"Why would you even do that?"

"Because I want to be the person who courts you not someone from Karasuno"

Bokuto got a talking too after his little confession about how that wasn't the way to get your attention but safe to say you did give him that chance and in the future its something you would never end up regretting.

--------------------------------------------------

Oikawa now he definitely thought something was wrong with you. You were never apart of his group of fans and never reacted differently towards him. Games you attended? You would cheer on anyone BUT him. And this, caught his eye. He was gonna make it his mission to get you to go out with him one way or another.

Oikawa since he had never struggled before trying to charm a lady he was more confused then ever how was he supposed to do this? Well the only thing that came to mind was make you feel special. This resulted in you being embarrassed ever single time.

Oikawa every single set he would do during a game? Point you out and give you a wink. During school he would start ignoring his fans and would only talk to his team or you. He always offered to carry your bag or help you with work but you were still warry about his true feelings towards you.

Oikawa hoping he at least he made his intentions clear to you he would now leave small stuff at your desk. Sometimes it was small snacks with a note, or a small tricket that reminded him of you.

Oikawa the way he finally got you to agree on a date was when he gave you a boquet of your favorite flowers. It was special to you because you had only told him once what flower it was and he had still remembered it.

"Here l/nn its your favorite flowers just for you"

"You still rememeber what type of flowers I like?"

"Of course and I'll keep remembering small details about you - like how when your favoring song plays you start forgetting the worlds around you just to pay attention to the lyrics."

Now this had touched your heart, after weeks of chasing you maybe it was time to allow him to ask you out. Because he had clearly put effort into this.

"Fine, just one date trashykawa"

"You wont regret it l/n!"

--------------------------------------------------

Ushijima he didn't even know he was "courting" you until Semi told asked him when he was going to ask you out.

"You know l/n is a sweet girl why haven't you asked her out yet? I'm sure she already likes you."

"What on earth are you talking about? I havent been courting our manager-"

Lets just say it hit him like a brick when he started connecting the dots that it did LOOK like he was indeed courting you.

Ushijima You were the manager of the team and dealing with a group of teenage boys wasn't easy- so he as the captain of the team decided he would be the one to show his gratitude. He would give you chocolates every day after practice or invite you to grab lunch with him alone.

Ushijima after thinking about it for days about how own feelings towards you he decided he was going to invite you on a real date. Because even if he wasnt completely sure about how he felt he wanted to at least give it a try. So, one day after practice as you were cleaning and packing up everything he decided to shoot his shot.

"l/n are you perhaps free this evening?"

"Yeah I don't have any plans. Is there a reason for asking?"

"I was wondering if you would like to accompany me on a walk in the park. It would be nice having someone - you around"

"Sure! let me go get my stuff and I'll meet you outside."

"Yes absolutely, its a date then."

As he walked away you stood there dumfounded, he finally had the balls to ask you out huh.

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Kuroo now he was crushing on you HARD. But, he always found it hard to talk to you. Different group of friends, different hobbies, different clubs there was practically no way to start a conversation without it being difficult.

The 3rd years were preparing for the English final when your teacher suggested forming study groups within the class so you could prepare. Now this was his chance.

Kuroo had to work up the courage to ask you to be his study buddy and when he did you were almost surprised that he asked you but you didn't say no. You moved your stuff to your left so he could sit next to you.

You started asking him what was his strong and week points in English. When he asked the same thing back he wasn't focused on your answers, more like the view Infront of him. The way you talked and the way you explained things was magical.

Kuroo The two of you exchanged phone numbers so it was easier to communicate. You didn't say it was only to text about the final - so he started sending memes he found funny or goofy cat pictures in hopes of it turning into a conversation.

Of course the way you texted back was short and fast but when he sent you a meme of your favorite video game it was like he had found a cheat code. You started geeking out and explained the story and characters to him. Although he didn't know anything about the game it was certainly working and after talking about it until wee hours into the night you decided to call it off and go to sleep.

"Goodnight Kuroo thanks for listening to me yap lol"

"Of course l/n, I'll always listen to you talk."

You hearted the message and he knew this was only the beginning of a new found frienship and hopefully a relationship.

--------------------------------------------------

Kita he never really thought about dating he was always more focused on his studies and vollyball. You were more like a close friend then anything. Sure he thought you were cute but he believed there was nothing there but pure friendship.

"My parents aren't home I guess I'm gonna have to order food.."

"Y/n you cant cook?"

"Nope, my parents do"

"Well I believe I'm gonna have to teach you then"

"yayyy"

Kita 3 times a week Kita would go over to your house (with your parents permission) and show you the basics + a few recepies. He enjoyed spending time with you outside of school but something had changed inside of him. Maybe the proximity but the way you *preferred hair style while cooking* looked on you was mesmerizing.

Kita Knew your parents travlled alot for work and even days without a lesson he would leave a bento on your desk early in the morning enough for the whole day. Even if it was more work added to his plate he didn't mind doing it because it was for you.

Besides, the best way to get to someone is through the stomach.

I swear I don't have a favorite. Anyways that concludes my first post! I'm open to criticism on my writing!

[cybrasigilism]

how dae-ho would act like if he had a crush on reader and how he’d ask them out

this is too cute! i desperately need to write for dae-ho more, he’s just such a sweetheart i fear :>

Crush Headcanons! (Player 388/Kang Dae-ho Headcanons)

warning: no smut! | lowercase intended | not proofread! | these are my headcanons for this character, please be respectful even if my opinions on the character differ from your own :)

character: kang dae-ho (player 388)

A/N: this is a mix of headcanons + drabble but i hope thats alright it’s nice to take a break from smut every now and again :) i’ve got lots of dae-ho in my requests so i’ll try my best to feed you all .3. of course, i hope you enjoy!

   ────  ☽⃝ ────

⟢ the moment he first took notice of you as everyone was getting their photos taken for the games, he was completely starstruck. from that point forward, dae-ho found his eyes being drawn to you wherever you guys were

⟢ he felt a new sense of urgency to make sure you lived throughout these games, after red light green light he made a vow with himself to ensure you were protected at all costs. he was quick to introduce himself post the first game, and you guys were fast friends.

⟢ he’s not the type to be insecure or jealous when he sees you interacting with the other men inbetween games. there was few men you did talk to anyways, seeing as most of them either got on your nerves or intimidated you way too much. however, he did find himself a tiny bit jealous when he saw how easily you got along with the other guys in his group

⟢ you didn’t end up making it on dae-ho’s team for the six legged pentathlon, but he did his best to calm your nerves before the game started up. he promised he would cheer you on and that he definitely did. he definitely lit up when you ran up to him afterwards, going on about how worried you were about him after you left

⟢ he 100% would share his food with you, especially if he noticed you were particularly shaken up after a game

⟢ adding onto the last piece, dae-ho will also definitely try to cheer you up after the games

⟢ i think he would definitely hold off on asking you out, especially during such a high stakes situation as the squid games. at some point later on, when you guys are closer, you two will promise to see more of each other once the games are finished.

⟢ although dae-ho certainly isn’t one to start a fight, he will put himself between you and any unruly players who try to start something with you. he doesn’t have any trouble putting someone in their place if he feels you would be in any sort of danger

⟢ insisted that you slept with his group during lights out, so he could watch over you and be certain on your safety when you were sleeping

⟢ 100% hugs you tightly after the mingle game, especially if you two got separated. you could tell he didn’t want to let you go at this point, as he was definitely worried that you didn’t make it into a group before the time ran out

⟢ will for sure ask you all about your life before the games, and even about what you’ll do with the prize money when you guys get out

────  ☽⃝ ────

apologies for the less headcanons this time around! i saw more opportunities for small drabbles between the headcanons and i had to seize it! i had a lot of fun writing this out, and i hope you guys all had just as much fun reading it! as always any advice/constructive criticism on how i can improve my writing is appreciated and requested

have a splendid day lovelies 💋

tags: @gongyoosgf @agorsnotsworld @kvstjwonnie @marymustdie @pink-apples001 @wonestro @luvlyfandoms @putrescentpoet

[souljahwwitch]

MY LIVING LEGEND! 𓂃⋆.˚

𓂃⋆.˚ hc’s about thanos x dancer! reader who has a big crush on him >_< (slightly angsty)

(no squid game here!) (mentioned that the reader is very pretty (because ya’ll are!!!!)) (drugs mentioned)

𓂃⋆.˚ being thanos’s main dancer was—exhilarating to say the least, going on tours with him, being on every spot, even sometimes get interviewed because of your otherworldly beauty

𓂃⋆.˚ thanos tolerated you, he usually doesn’t get involved with the dancers but you were a different story—he got more successful because of you and your beauty, and you were just timd, so he liked having conversations with you (not the one where he tried molly with you..that was a slip-up, a mistake he promised never would happen again.)

𓂃⋆.˚ you thought thanos was blind, because how couldn’t he saw the way you look at him, as if he had the whole world in his hands, everytime he even much as passed by you—you felt like you were starstruck.

𓂃⋆.˚ you two had many slip ups, as in trying stuff together and both of you waking up confused and..half naked. but he never wanted to talk about it—never. he’d always just call his private driver to drive you home, and when dance practice came—he had to touch you, because of the choreography. and it was damn near infuriating

𓂃⋆.˚ you couldn’t even count the times you cried to your friends—cried alone even, because of him. but you couldn’t be mad either, your relationship should’ve been purely professional, right?

“you gotta stop looking at me like that, angel.” he’d hiss, making you blush—but you’d just brush it off

“likeeee what, thanos?” you’d say, smiling prettily, and as mad as he is at himself for wanting you as much as you wanted him (though he was completely blind to your feelings towards him) he couldn’t help but crack a smirk.

𓂃⋆.˚ you noticed thanos taking those little pills from his cross before every performance, and once, unfortunately, you had to say something.

“you don’t need those, you’re already great.” you mumbled and he looked at you—angrily?

“you don’t know shit about what i need or not, just dance and look ethereal like you always do, got it?” ouch.

𓂃⋆.˚ it was positively awkward between you two after that, which was strange—he shouldn’t feel awkward with you, not when you’re the only one keeping him fucking sane.

𓂃⋆.˚ he’d catch you crying because of him, and he knew—he fucking knew it was because of him, but he’d just look at you, not having the words or the courage to say something—until now

“don’t waste your tears over me, sweetheart. s’not worth it.” he mumbled, sitting beside you as his tattooed hand reached for your cheek.

“you-you don’t understand.” you said between hiccups, blushing even now at the smallest contact

“then make me—make me understand and we’ll figure something out, yeah? like we always do, sweet girl.”

[logaenhowlett]

MY MISTAKES WERE MADE FOR YOU - L.H.

Summary: You lost him. He lost you. What if there's a universe where you find each other?

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut 18+ only, Angst (with happy ending), Hurt/Comfort, Touch starved Logan, Unprotected sex (with major feelings), Emotional intimacy (we all know how much he needs this)

A/N: Starting the year off with some good ol' angst. Worst!Logan is such an intricately complex character, I know that man would just crumble at the slightest bit of affection. Hope you enjoy (aka shed some tears)! Title creds to The Last Shadow Puppets.

MASTERLIST

"Do you think we're together in every universe?"

The late afternoon sun slanted through the blinds, striping the rumpled sheets with gold. Logan held you close, his arm an anchor across your waist, fingertips just barely tracing the curve of your body. Dust motes danced lazily in the beams, the light warming the sculpted planes of his chest beneath your cheek.

"There's more than one?" he murmured back.

"You have claws coming out your hands, but you don't believe there's another world just like ours?"

Your fingers found his beard, all silver and entirely Logan. He'd once fretted over the greying strands, scowling whenever he caught his reflection. But your loving reassurance - along with some lighthearted teasing - had eased his worries; he never frowned at the sight of it again. It belonged to him, just as you belonged to him.

"Never thought about it." His whisper, gentle as a caress, lingered in the space between matching heartbeats and entwined limbs. "Everythin' I love's right here."

The clouds weep the tears you hold back. Rain slicks the granite of his headstone, chilling your fingers as you trace the etched letters of his name. Logan Howlett.

Today marks another year. Another year without his warmth, without his quiet affection, without him. Yet he remains everywhere and nowhere, a mere ghost in the hollowness of your soul.

You were the calmness to his storm; and he, the mighty current that held you steady. Where your heart was an open book, Logan's was a fortress. The world had hardened him, leaving him wary and guarded. And somehow, you found a way inside - not by battering down his walls, but with patience and unwavering devotion.

He'd lived a life where kindness was a forgotten language, where vulnerability was a fatal flaw. Yet he let you in. As naturally as the sun rises each morning, as inevitably as the moon draws the ocean's breath, he let you in. His love wasn't often spoken, but it was lived.

It was his calloused hand, scarred and strong, that held your chin as he leaned in to kiss you. His gruff voice that softened with a deep reverence when he breathed your name. And his rare, almost shy smile that revealed a sense of peace he found only in you.

Lost in these memories, you barely register the shift in the air. A shadow falls across the inscription on his headstone and you feel the familiar pull of his presence - yet it's wrong. So terribly, and heartbreakingly wrong. The scent of cigar smoke, the rough texture of his leather jacket, the weariness of his posture - it's all there, a cruel reminder of the man you loved. But they're not the same.

"Not now, Logan," you choke out, eyes squeezing shut against the sudden rush of tears.

His gaze, heavy with a sorrow that mirrors your own, cuts through the pouring rain. The need to reach out and offer comfort becomes a searing ache in his chest, a tightening in his throat that swallows him whole. He knew you'd be here; Wade had told him what today was. But the thought of you alone, braving the crushing weight of your loss, was unbearable. "It's late. Storm's comin' in," he whispers.

"I don't care."

The streetlamp above flickers weakly, its light a trembling finger pointing to the raw pain that pools in your eyes. He doesn't try to argue. Grief is a dear enemy; he's wrestled with its suffocating weight and understood the desire to remain tethered to the echoes of a life now lost.

So, he stays. A silent companion beside you, sharing the cold rain that soaks your clothes, the thunder that cracks overhead, and the loneliness that binds you together in this desolate moment.

It hurts you, overwhelmingly so. He looks just like him - the same rugged lines, the same weathered hands, the same slump to his shoulders. But he's a phantom limb, a missing note in a melody, a haunting reminder of a touch you'll never feel again. It's almost enough to make you laugh, a hollow, broken sound that doesn't quite reach your lips.

When Wade first broke the news, it felt like a punchline to some sick joke. "Another Logan?" you scoffed, rolling your eyes as he remained uncharacteristically serious. "This one's different," he said quietly, "He lost his... well, he lost his you."

You hadn't believed him, not until Logan cautiously stepped out of the bedroom, and the absurd reality of Wade's words struck you hard. The impact was immediate: a sharp, stabbing pain that reopened old wounds. Since then, you both walked a careful tightrope around each other. Much like two ships passing in the night, swept by the same tides, yet forever separated by the vast ocean of heartache.

The heavy silence holds its breath as your sob breaks free. And another, and another, until you're shaking from the force of it all. It's then, seeing you so utterly distraught, that he can no longer resist. The barriers, the invisible walls that had kept you at a distance, vanish like a mirage.

Hesitantly, he gathers you in his arms, your heartbeat thumping wildly against his chest. With slow, measured steps, he carries you home - a bittersweet ache settling deep within. He never got to hold her like this. His you.

The door closes behind him, the relentless downpour waning to a hushed murmur. Logan doesn't release you immediately, selfishly holding on a second longer before lowering you onto the couch. Moving quickly, he returns with a towel, carefully draping it around your shivering form.

His hand lingers, almost of its own volition, a feather-light brush against your cheek as he tucks away a stray hair. He regards you fondly, his gaze kind and searching as he murmurs, "It'll get easier, I promise."

The air crackles with an unspoken longing. Sighing softly, you savour the heat of his touch. And in the stillness of the moment, the question you'd been burning to ask, the one that had been clawing at your mind since you laid eyes on him, simply slips out. "How did you lose her?"

Logan exhales wearily. The memory is a healing scar, one he still prods at in the darkest hours of the night. Guilt, thick and suffocating, flares in his throat. He'd spent years lost in a haze of anger and alcohol, trying to outrun the shame until he finally stopped. The running ceased, the chase ended, and in the aftermath, he found a fragile peace, slowly mending the broken pieces within.

As he speaks, the sheer extent of his agony draws you closer. Instinctively, you grasp his hand, fingers intertwining with ease. "They took her away from me. She–" he trails off, taking a deep breath. "She didn't know how much I loved her."

How could she not have known? you wonder. Love simply radiates from him. It reminds you so much of your own Logan, of the same fire roaring beneath the surface. All intense and bright without uttering a single word. "She knew," you offer quietly.

He doesn't know who initiates the movement, a nearly imperceptible lean. Perhaps it's a silent understanding between two souls craving solace in the face of immense loss. Or perhaps it's something else entirely.

Whatever the catalyst, your lips meet.

The taste of salt and sorrow floods his senses. The first touch is hesitant, a tentative kiss that sends a jolt of unexpected electricity through his very being. It's wrong. He knows it's wrong. But logic falters, crumbling beneath the soft siege of your affections, a yearning he's powerless to fight.

Over time, the need for genuine connection had become a faded photograph in the back of his mind. The colours muted, the edges frayed. But this? The feeling of you against his mouth, all eager and urgent, is a revelation. And your fingers, raking through his hair, loosen the tight coils of tension he'd so long forgotten.

Logan breaks away, only momentarily, before guiding you onto his lap. He tilts forward, reconnecting with your lips. This time much, much slower. It's sweet, achingly so, imbued with a hope that maybe - just maybe, you'll be okay. This is okay.

His hands, still resting on your waist, begin to wander beneath your clothes. Heat from your skin presses against his cheek as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his breath ghosting over your pulse point. Leaning back slightly, he traces the line of your jaw, urging you to meet his gaze.

A question hangs in his eyes, a seeking of permission, one that you answer with a nod. Then, inch by inch, he eases your sweater over your shoulders, kissing along each newly exposed area. He smiles as you unbutton his shirt in turn, nipping his bicep playfully.

There's no rush; it's all a gentle unfolding, a deliberate exploration of one another. When skin finally meets skin, it's with a sigh of shared relief, a feeling of coming home.

His arousal is painstakingly clear, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance. Logan watches as you lower yourself onto him, barely sinking onto his length before a moan spills from your mouth, a mixture of pleasure and a sharp, fleeting sting.

He can tell it hurts, the slight wince in your expression not escaping his notice. Concern knots in his stomach and he immediately stills, hands gripping your hips, as if to pull you back.

"Easy, darlin'," he mumbles, "Tell me if it's too much, okay? We don't have to–"

A growl tears through his mouth, raw and involuntary, as you fully take him in. The tightness around his cock is undeniably satisfying and utterly profound. He clenches his jaw, fighting back another groan, the intensity almost too much to bear.

Then you begin to move. Carefully shifting your hips, a rocking motion that draws him deeper as you thrust in and out. Friction builds with each movement and Logan can't resist the impulse to fuck up into you, his body responding with a desire to be closer.

The rhythm quickens, becoming more insistent, the earlier tenderness giving way to a more fiery, more visceral need. He matches your pace, then takes the lead in an almost demanding fashion.

And then he feels it - a dampness on his shoulder, the subtle hitch of your breath as you seek refuge in the curve of his neck. The tremble of your sighs, his name a choked plea from your lips, tells him everything.

He slows down, his movements gentle. With a light sweep of his thumb, he wipes away the tears trailing down your cheek. "I know, sweet girl, I know," he speaks softly, whispering apologies and sweet nothings as he kisses your temple, "'m here for you. Just let go for me, baby."

The tension drains from your muscles, Logan smiles as you respond to him again. A newfound energy pumps through his body, he thrusts once, then twice, cursing as your gasps grow louder.

The sound of your pleasure is intoxicating. He can feel you squeezing around him, your breath coming in short bursts, each exhale a hot rush against his skin. He's so close, he can almost taste it, a dizzying swell waiting to consume you both. "Fuck, darlin'. Could get used to this," he spits out.

With his free hand, he reaches down, finding the throbbing nub of your clit. The faint pressure, the circling motion of his fingertips, is the final push that sends you tumbling over the edge. A strangled cry breaks free as your body arches towards him, your muscles clenching and releasing in waves, drawing thick ropes of his cum deeper inside you.

Logan pulls out, the warmth of your presence still heavy in his mind. He doesn't speak, not wanting to fracture the delicate intimacy of the moment, instead studying you in awe. The rise and fall of your chest, the curve of your lips, the sheen of sweat on your forehead - it all seems impossibly perfect.

Maybe this wasn't a mistake. Maybe this was the first step towards healing. A journey taken together, hand in hand, through the wreckage of your past, towards a future that feels a little less bleak. The thought settles in his heart, a quiet promise that perhaps, together, you can find your way back to the light.

[yutarot]

ride or die. l.jn smau

021 — queen of hearts. wc: 3.4k (sorry)

YN POV

you really don’t want to go to this party.

after your chat with chenle, you’ve decided that everything he said was complete and utter nonsense. you? in love with jeno? you laugh at the thought. so as you slip into the outfit that winter picked out for you and receive the thumbs-up approval from mark, you decide that you’re going to make tonight worth it. you’re going to let out all of the pent up confusion of the last few days, all of your built up emotions. you're going to spend the entire party on the other side of the room to jaemin and most certainly jeno, and no-one is going to fall in love.

its going to be simple, unproblematic: exactly what you need. you want things back to the way they were, before you discovered jeno's identity, before your life was sent into complete and utter chaos.

in all honesty, the situation with jaemin upset you for more reasons than one. because, not only did jaemin having feelings for you mean that you've had to repeatedly keep turning him down, but it then meant that jeno’s identity being exposed was completely futile, and it made you feel awful.

after all, jaemin leaked jeno’s identity because of you, and despite jeno being okay with it, you aren’t.

putting your thoughts aside, you reinsert yourself into reality, standing side by side to mark and winter, horrifically aware of all the eyes around you. haalands frat house was spacious, a hue of dark multicoloured light stretching from wall to wall, absorbed in the imminent sound of upbeat music and flood of bodies. it hasn't gone unnoticed to the rest of the people at the party the way that you and jeno have avoided each other all night. occasionally, you catch a glance of him across the room, nursing the same drink he's had since he got here, whilst you’re way beyond your sixth, or perhaps even your eighth, its hard to tell. but people were starting to notice, and whether you like it or not, you're going to have to speak to him at some point. just not yet, you need a few more drinks first.

excusing yourself from winter and mark, you see chenle and his friend, jisung, pouring drinks at the side of the room, and you make the very unwise decision to go over to them.

"pour me one?" you say, extending your cup out to jisung who shyly pours the remaining liquor into your cup. chenle however, is unimpressed, giving you the most diabolical look of discontent, his eyebrow raising.

you squeeze past chenle in silence to grab some lemonade for the rest of your drink before he finally speaks.

"you gonna explain why you're doing everything but following my advice?" his voice is laced with a humorous tone of annoyance.

"no.." you reply, "im just.. feeling out the atmosphere first."

"oh right, okay. only for two hours." he flips back sarcastically.

jisung laughs awkwardly, not aware at all what the two of you are talking about.

"okay fine, I changed my mind."

chenle gives you a deadpan look. "how so?"

"what you said yesterday, i think you're wrong. "

chenle doesn't reply, he only laughs. "yeah. okay." he keeps chuckling to himself, so much so that you get annoyed, turning back around to go find mark and winter.

if, two months ago, you had told yourself that you would have walked away from the chenle zhong at a party mid conversation, you wouldn't believe it. you take the mental note to tell mark later, rubbing in all the times that he made fun of your crush in the past.

as you get back to your best friends, winter notices the cogs turning in the back of your mind. “why do i feel like you’re planning to kill someone.” she giggles.

“she’s pretty drunk.” mark replies for you, “she’s probably just trying to keep herself from throwing up everywhere.”

winter laughs, leaning round to check if you’re okay, in which you reply. “im not drunk, just annoyed.”

winter and mark exchange a glance.

as if on queue, you realise that one of your's and winters go-to party songs has began to fill the room: exceeder by mason. jumping out of your anger feuded trance, you grab winters hand, leading her to the centre of the party.

you let yourself go, ignoring all the prying eyes of those around you, finally basking in your own enjoyment, along-side your bestfriend.

you feel free, safe from judgement.

but all of that comes to a halt when you hear renjuns voice replace the large sound of music.

“those of you that want to join for the dare circle stay here, those of you that don’t. politely, fuck off." he adds on a "thanks." to the end, as if it would make his sentence suddenly super polite.

a dare circle? at a college party? you feel sick at the thought. but winters steel grip keeps you in place, and it’s not until you’re sat in the circle ready to play do you realise who’s remaining in the room.

to either side of you sit winter and mark, and when you scan your eyes around the rest, the voices of renjun, haechan, haaland, jaemin and chenle all fill the silence, aswell as some other faces you don't recognise. but when your eyes meet the person sitting at the far end of the circle, attention already baring into you, you go cold. jeno sits, leaning back on his hands and he looks at you. his face is calm, but you sense something even deeper whirring inside him, and you’re intrigued to find out what it is.

before you can think any further on the matter, haaland yells something incoherent, and when someone asks 'what the actual fuck that was supposed to mean', he shrugs, pointing to haechan.

“the fuck do you want me to do?!" haechan argues, but haaland gives him the middle finger.

haechan rolls his eyes dramatically. “fine, you big oof, i’ll explain the rules.” he pauses, picking up a pack of cards from the centre of the circle. “each card is correspondant to a dare. the number on the card indicates how many shots you have to take if you don’t do the dare, and the symbol indicates what dare you get."

everyone in the circle nods, excitement filling the air around you

"clubs: you have to choose someone to slap you in the face.”

beside you, mark bursts into laughter, “fucking praying i get to see haaland slap someone.”

you zone mark out, rolling your eyes as you listen to the rest of haechan’s explanation. “spades: you’ll be asked a personal question to answer.”

sounds pretty self explanatory, though you’re betting you’ll get a question about you and jeno, but it’s nothing you haven’t dealt with before. it’s become second nature to lie about your relationship with him, girls constantly coming up to you asking all sorts of questions, and you know they’re just feeling you out to see if you’ll last, waiting for their opportunity to have him for themselves. you’ll never understand the appeal.

well.. maybe some things you could understand.

“diamonds: you have to give the number on the card in dollars to the person on your left.”

a unified moan of annoyance floods through the circle, pleads of ‘fuck you im broke.’ and a 'i literally just got fired' from jisung, flying around the room.

“and hearts.” he pauses, eyes scanning meticulously between each of you, “hearts: you have to kiss someone else in the circle.”

after haechan explains the rules, eager and completely incoherent yells expand from the people around you. “easy.” winter chuckles, winking at haechan, and mark throws her a look of disgust.

“i really do hate people in relationships.” mark groans. you couldn’t agree more, though you couldn’t openly agree that in this setting.

haechan shuffles the cards before placing the deck in the centre of the circle and obviously choosing winter to go first. she giggles as she picks up the top card, flipping it over to reveal the 7 of clubs. the entire circle fades into a fit of laughter as you notice the drop in haechans expression.

"fuck you for choosing me to go first." she says, aimed at haechan. you all watch in anticipation as she places herself infront of him, everyone around her urging her on as she places her palm to haechans cheek, only to (lightly) slap him a few moments later. the circle is in a disarray of chaos, haechan eventually joining in, laughing at his own seriousness.

its winters turn to choose who's next and you're a little relieved that she's sober enough not to try and mess with you. a sigh escapes you as she chooses mark, who, on the contrary, is absolutely livid.

he picks up a card and flips it, the 4 of diamonds. he kicks his feet in anger as he digs into his wallet, taking out 4 dollars and passing it to winter, who just so happens to be on his left.

"I want that back later." he says.

winter laughs, "i'll buy you a burger."

when its marks turn to choose, he picks jaemin. you immediately turn to your best friend, eyes telling him just how much you wish to kill him. mark only shrugs before whispering to you.

"games a game."

you hit him on the back of his head in annoyance.

the circle is suddenly tense as jaemin reaches for the deck, and when he flips the top card, you go stiff.

"ooooooo, 2 of spades." haechan says, a smirk plastered on his face

somehow you hear haalands voice booming over the sound of your heart racing. "let me ask! let me ask! let me ask!" you exchange glances with literally everyone else in the room as you question what the hell haaland wants to ask, but you let him because, what the hell, why not?

"how do you feel knowing your best friend is dating your crush?"

the room falls silent.

that's why not,

"what? what is it?" haaland whispers to haechan, "what did I say wrong?" haechan slaps him on his arm, getting him to shut up, seemingly very intrigued on jaemins answer.

as are you.

but jaemin says nothing. he just looks at jeno, who very slightly shakes his head, almost unnoticeable.

but you notice.

after what seems like one too many seconds of silence, jaemin reaches towards the bottle in the middle of the circle and the entire room bursts into an energy of drunken excitement and chaos.

jaemin, seemingly angry at the situation, points to the one person in the room you've been hoping, praying, wouldn't be picked.

jeno.

if you thought the circle couldn't get more tense, you were wrong.

although you know its your imagination, you feel the burning of everyones attention on you, though the dare is placed on jeno.

he says nothing, just leaning forward and grabbing a card from the top of the deck.

you study jenos face as he reads the card. his expression hardens, eyes immediately going to yours as he places the card in the centre of the circle for everyone to see.

the energy of the room returns.

you look down at the card and your heart plunges out of your chest.

the queen of hearts.

this can only go one of two ways: jeno is going to somehow down 12 shots of straight liquor, one after the other, or he's going to decide to spare himself a trip to the hospital and be forced to, instead, go through with his dare.

to kiss somebody else in the circle.

immediately, jeno looks to you, a face of question lining his features, as if he's asking for your permission.

everyone glances between you and jeno, jeering you on. you feel suffocated, surrounded by faces of both people who don't know the truth and people that do, a plethora of judgement and the utmost fear of what's true: that it has to be you, you're his girlfriend.

you begin to panic. this was it, you couldn't escape it. this wasn't like being confronted by one of samo's fangirls, this wasn't like one of your faux dates with jeno. because atleast then you could pretend it was something it wasn't.

but this is different. a kiss is a kiss.

you can barely keep up with your own mind. you decide there's only one way out of this. you have to get out of there, now. you have to find a place away from all of these faces. so that's what you do, you get up, finding yourself heading straight to the nearest bedroom.

you close the door, collecting yourself. you feel stupid, cowardly, getting up and leaving like that. if people didn't think something was up between you two before, then they definitely do now.

but it wasn't them that you were worried about.

amidst your panicking and uncontrollable embarrassment, you hear the door click.

“winter, im okay i just-“

“hi.” jeno’s voice reaches down inside you, ripping up all hope of composure. you don’t know why you feel like this, why you feel like your heart is about to explode out of your chest and make a mess of haalands carpet. but you can’t control it, no matter how hard you try to.

“sorry,” you say quietly, “i thought you were winter.”

“well im not, if that helps.” he laughs, and you grin at his silliness.

"not really.." you say, the words coming out although you don't mean for them to.

there’s a pause of silence before jeno speaks up again. “sorry if i, you know, freaked you out in there. i just thought it’d be suspicious if it wasn’t you.”

“it’s okay.” it’s not okay. it’s not okay at all.

“can i ask you something?” he asks. you look up at him, the same stoic expression plastered on his face.

“okay..”

“why have you been avoiding me?” he says, a complete contrast to whatever you thought it was that he was going to say. “everywhere i go i feel your eyes follow me, but that’s all it is. not once have you spoken to me at this party until now, and frankly, im getting pretty fucking annoyed about it.”

his words catch you off guard, you’ve never seen jeno angry like this, eyes cold and unrelentless.

“it’s just… easier to pretend you’re not here.” you reply. it’s true, jeno’s mere existence is only a reminder of how much you ruined his life. though it was indirectly, it’s still your fault.

he’s silent, as if he’s suddenly understood your thoughts, before he speaks. “don’t.”

“don’t what?”

“don’t pretend im not here. it’s killing me.”

something in him shifts, as if all the anger in him suddenly turns and drifts out of his mind, replaced by a solemn feeling of helplessness.

but his jaw is still clenched. hard.

that feeling of something else floating at the back of jenos mind overwhelms you again. you're curious, about him, about you, and suddenly your mind races back to your conversation with chenle.

'just see what happens if you follow what your heart tells you.'

jeno can see that your thinking, and you pray that he can't read your mind.

"you're not okay, yn. what's going on in that little head of yours? why did you run in here?"

you take a moment to collect yourself, deciding that you need to tell him. he's the only other person in the world that could understand what it feels like to be in the position where something fake could, so quickly, seem so real.

"everyone was watching.” you say, quietly, looking down at the floor to avoid eye contact.

but when he doesn't speak, you look up. his eyes find yours, brows furrowed.

“isn’t that the point?” he says, mocking you. you can’t help but scoff at his response.

its the attention of it all. it’s not the people that don’t know the truth that worries you, its the people that do. fear struck you at the possibility that if you were to kiss jeno, it would suddenly make everything seem too real.

and that was not what you wanted.

despite what chenle thought you did.

you realise you haven't answered him, incessantly rambling in your own mind, when a small smile lines jenos features, atmosphere shifting and causing you to tense as he speaks up.

jeno steps closer to you, and you don’t know if it’s the alcohol speaking or you’re just plain delusional, but you swear he’s looking at your lips.

your theory is confirmed the second he opens his mouth to speak.

"how about now." his voice is soft. "its just us."

you don't know what to do, to say. so you just let him speak, unaware if its the sudden change in atmosphere that's making you dizzy, the alcohol, or jenos words.

but as he continues to speak, you decide its definitely the latter.

jeno tilts his head, looking down at you. "as your boyfriend, its only right that i can kiss you. no?"

you look at him in awe.

before you have time to register what the hell you're doing, you do the unthinkable, your actions exploding with a lack of consequence and an overwhelming new urge of confidence.

just once, you tell yourself, just to prove to myself that it’s not real.

you don’t think, you don’t want to think, as you step forward and reach up, hand falling to the back of his neck. you pull his head down and almost immediately his lips find yours.

its soft, careful. but as jeno realises what's happening, the tension between you shifts and suddenly, it's as if there was something new between you, finally imploding in your senses. it’s desperate, controlled and yet you have no idea what you’re doing.

jeno, however, seems to know exactly what he’s doing.

subtly, you feel his smile against your lips as he reaches a hand down to your waist, circling your lower back and pulling you flush against his body. you don’t have time to react, he’s taken full control over everything, as if he’s been wanting to do this for the longest time.

he breaks the kiss, murmuring against your skin. “you know there’s no-one watching us, right?” he leans back in, not even waiting for your reply.

“i know.” you manage to say. its a simple question, but it means so much.

there’s something so indescribably natural about it, as if yours and jeno’s relationship had been real the whole time. but it hadn’t, and you were becoming increasingly aware of it with every press of his lips against yours.

he senses something within you and he pulls away, eyes searching in your own as he pushes your hair from your face, his touch barely there. “you okay?”

you don’t need to say anything; he knows what your thinking. his hands slowly let loose from your sides, letting you stand onto your own weight and your knees almost buckle at the action. “easy, i've got you.” he says, holding you again and finally letting go only after you've regained your balance.

the air between you is thick, the confusion of what the hell just happened suffocating you.

you open your mouth to say something, to ease the awkwardness between you, but jeno beats you to it.

you feel awkward, like you want to do anything but stay in this room with him. he senses your stiffness, reaching past you to grab the door handle.

“hope you enjoy the rest of the party, pretty.” he mocks you with the last word, opening the door to let you both out of the room.

you scoff, eyes rolling with a small laugh. “i’ll try.” you say, before walking back into the room, multiple pairs of eyes staring as you both appear.

you sit back inbetween winter and mark, jeno also taking his rightful place back in the circle.

“what happened with you guys, you were gone for ages?” mark whispers.

you reply, “i think we just ruined everything.” you’re talking to mark, but your eyes never leave jeno’s.

fuck, you’re right. you really have just ruined everything.

but it was at that moment that you realised something crucial to why whatever just happened, had happened.

you wanted it to. and that very fact chilled you to the bone.

previous : mlist : next

notes; not me making up a whole drinking game because i didn’t wanna use truth or dare ☠️

taglist — open! @jenohyun @jirsungs @do-you-remember-summer-127 @ddolbyong @stqrgr7 @thatsatricky1 @sunghoonsgfreal @nattan127 @ssweetreveries @flamingi @chenlesfavorite @peterm4rker @snoopyjimin @akunoeyebrows @junviadinho @slayhaechan @f6llsun @multifandomania @cookiehaos @catecita @mrsjohnnysuh @luv4jeno @hyuckies18 @dreamiestay @tangerinelovelees @jjaegyeom @https-yeonjun @nanaxwi @yukisroom97 @nosungluv @mrkleelvr @neocrashed @jaedgemental @apolloxxivmin @kyubing @catdonut657 @dudekiss3r @juyeonshour @hamjwis @antifrggile @mmjhh1998 @thegracerammy @jenocity23 @honeynanamin @bluedbliss @lampcults @yyangj3lly

[possessedmen]

The Spell of Desire

In the dim light of the evening, Ezra, a reserved art history major, returned to his university dorm room, his mind preoccupied with his unrequited feelings for his roommate, Brandon. Brandon was the epitome of a college jock—muscular, charismatic, and, to Ezra's knowledge, straight. Their shared living space was a constant reminder of what Ezra couldn't have.

As Ezra entered, he froze at the sight before him. There, sprawled on his bed, was Brandon, or so he thought, in all his naked glory. The room was silent except for the soft hum of the air conditioner, and Brandon's usual confident demeanor seemed replaced by a strange vulnerability.

"Brandon, what the hell?" Ezra managed, his voice a mix of shock and intrigue.

The man on the bed shifted, sitting up with a look of flustered confusion. "Hey, Ezra, uh, I was just... I thought I'd surprise you. You know, with a, um, prank. Yeah, a prank," he said, his voice not quite matching Brandon's usual deep timbre. It was higher, more nervous.

Ezra raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "A prank? Since when do you prank me by getting naked on my bed?"

"Well, you know, I've been feeling a bit adventurous lately. Wanted to spice things up around here. Plus, it's hot, and I thought, why not cool off a bit?" The faux-Brandon chuckled awkwardly, trying to mimic the easy laugh of the jock.

Ezra couldn't help but let his gaze linger over the body that was supposed to be Brandon's. There was something off, something not quite right in the way he moved, the way he spoke. "You're acting weird, Brandon. What's really going on?"

"Okay, okay, you got me. I'm not Brandon. I'm Theo. Theo from your literature class. I... I used this old spell book I found in the library. I swapped bodies with Brandon because I've been crushing on you for ages. I wanted to be close to you, to... to see if you felt the same."

Ezra's eyes widened, the pieces falling into place. "You swapped bodies with Brandon? With black magic?"

"Yes, I know it sounds crazy. I'm sorry, I'll reverse it, I just—"

"No, wait," Ezra said, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "If you're going to be Brandon, let's make this believable. What would Brandon say now?"

Theo, still in shock, tried to think on his feet. "Uh, he'd probably say something like, 'Hey, roomie, you caught me. Now, what are you gonna do about it?'"

Ezra chuckled, "That's more like it." He began to unbutton his shirt, revealing his toned physique slowly, deliberately. "And what would Brandon do next?"

Theo swallowed hard, his borrowed body looking out of place with the expression of a shy nerd. "He'd probably... um, flex a bit, show off, right?" He awkwardly flexed one of Brandon's muscular arms.

"Close, but let's make it more... intimate," Ezra suggested, letting his shirt fall to the floor. He climbed onto the bed, his body close to Theo's, the heat between them palpable. "So, 'Brandon', what do you think of this?"

Theo's eyes followed Ezra's movements, his breathing quickening. "I... I think you look good, Ezra. Really good."

"Shh, just keep being Brandon," Ezra instructed, a playful smirk on his lips as he leaned in, capturing Theo's lips in a kiss that was both exploratory and demanding. After a moment, he pulled back slightly, "What would Brandon say if I kissed him like that?"

Theo, encouraged by Ezra's seduction, began to settle into Brandon's identity. "He'd probably say, 'Damn, Ezra, you're full of surprises. But I like 'em.'" His voice was gaining confidence, mimicking Brandon's casual arrogance.

Ezra laughed softly, his breath warm against Theo's skin. "And what would he do?"

Theo, now more playful, pulled Ezra closer, his hands finding his waist with a newfound boldness. "He'd pull you in like this, and say, 'You wanna play, roomie? Let's play.'"

Ezra let out a low moan, "Good. Now, what would Brandon want next?"

Theo, channeling Brandon's confident, friendly arrogance, whispered, "He'd want you to join him, to make this moment even more real." His voice was steady now, playful and teasing.

Ezra's eyes sparkled with desire. "Is that so? Well, let's not disappoint 'Brandon' then." With a fluid motion, Ezra undid his belt, letting his pants slide off, joining Theo on the bed fully. "What's next, 'Brandon'?"

Theo, feeling the heat of Ezra's body against his own, grinned, "He'd probably say, 'You're making this too easy, Ezra. But I like it.' And then maybe he'd..." Theo hesitated for a moment before continuing with a smirk, "He'd start kissing your neck, right?"

Ezra tilted his head back slightly, giving Theo access, his voice low and seductive, "Go on then, show me how 'Brandon' does it."

With a newfound confidence, Theo leaned in, his lips brushing against Ezra's neck, planting kisses that were firm and teasing, just as Brandon might do. He felt the thrill of embodying the jock's persona, the playful arrogance coming naturally now. "You like that, huh, Ezra?" Theo asked, his voice now a perfect mimic of Brandon's casual, cocky tone.

Ezra chuckled, his voice a soft moan, "Yeah, I do. What’s next Brandon?"

Theo's hands roamed over Ezra's back, pulling him closer with a confident grip. "I'd probably want to feel more of you, to make sure you're as into this as I am." His fingers traced the line of Ezra's spine with a deliberate slowness, savoring the reaction he elicited.

Ezra, feeling the shift in Theo's demeanor, whispered, "And what would you say if we went further?"

Theo, fully immersed in Brandon's identity, smirked, "Finally, took you long enough, man. Let's see what you've got." His tone was playful, almost challenging, as he watched Ezra's hands move to the blanket covering him.

Ezra smiled, his hands moving to pull the blanket away, revealing Theo fully. "Then let's not keep 'Brandon' waiting." As the blanket fell, Ezra took a moment to appreciate the view, his eyes dark with desire. "You look good, 'Brandon'. Really good."

"You know, Ezra, you've always been too fucking quiet for your own good," Theo said, his voice a low, teasing growl that was unmistakably Brandon's. "Let's see if we can make you scream tonight."

Ezra, his heart racing with anticipation, looked up at Theo with a mix of excitement and surrender. "Show me then, 'Brandon'."

Theo smirked, the cocky grin that was so characteristic of Brandon spreading across his face. He leaned down, his lips capturing Ezra's in a kiss that was commanding, leaving no room for doubt about who was in charge. His hands roamed over Ezra's body with purpose, guiding him to lie back on the bed.

With a fluid motion, Theo positioned himself above Ezra, his movements confident and assured. "You ready for this, roomie? 'Cause I'm gonna fuck you like you've never been fucked before," he said, his voice dripping with playful arrogance and a vulgar edge.

Ezra nodded, his breath hitching as he felt Theo's presence so close, so dominant. "Yeah, I'm ready."

Theo, now fully embracing the role of Brandon, didn't hesitate. He took Ezra's hands, pinning them gently above his head, his gaze intense. "Good, because I'm not holding back, you little slut," he whispered, his tone a mix of promise and challenge.

The room was filled with the soft sounds of their breathing, the rustle of sheets, and the low, appreciative moans from Ezra as Theo explored his body with a deliberate slowness, savoring each reaction. Theo's touch was firm, his movements those of someone who knew exactly what he wanted, and right now, what he wanted was Ezra.

As Theo prepared to take the lead, he maintained eye contact, ensuring Ezra was with him every step of the way. "You're gonna love this, Ezra," Theo said, his voice confident, as he positioned himself.

Ezra, caught in the throes of desire, could only nod, his body responding eagerly to Theo's dominance. The moment was charged with an electric intensity as Theo, embodying Brandon's assertiveness and vulgar charm, began to move with a rhythm that was both commanding and raw.

Their connection deepened with each thrust, each movement a testament to Theo's complete immersion into Brandon's identity. Ezra's moans grew louder, his hands gripping the sheets as Theo took him to heights of pleasure he hadn't known before.

"You like that, huh, you dirty boy?" Theo teased, his voice a husky whisper in Ezra's ear, maintaining the playful arrogance that had become his second nature. "Tell me how much you fucking love it."

"I... I love it," Ezra managed between gasps, his body arching into Theo's with every motion. "You act like him so well, Theo. You've made him so fucking edgy, and I love it."

As they reached the peak of their passion, Theo's confidence never wavered, his control over the situation absolute. The culmination of their encounter was explosive, leaving them both breathless and satisfied, as Theo came inside Ezra with a groan that was all Brandon's vulgar satisfaction.

In the quiet that followed, Ezra turned to Theo, his eyes soft with affection. "You know, if you could really stay as Brandon, I wouldn't mind at all. You could stay like this forever."

Theo chuckled, still in character, playing up the confusion with an ironic twist. "Stay as Brandon? What are you talking about, man? I am Brandon, you idiot. Always have been," he replied with a smirk, his tone playful yet convincing in its irony.

Then, as he lay there, still inside Ezra, Theo added with a mix of sincerity and vulgarity, "But you know what, Ezra? Your hole makes me crazy like no girl ever did. Fucking you, it's... it's something else, man."

Ezra laughed, the warmth of the moment enveloping them. "Right, 'Brandon', right. But seriously, you're incredible like this."

Theo, or 'Brandon', pulled Ezra closer, their bodies still intertwined. "Well, then, let's keep this going, roomie. Because I'm not going anywhere." And with that, they drifted into a contented sleep, the boundaries of their reality blurred by the magic of the night, the playful deception of identity, and the unique intimacy they had discovered.