#it was too good for me to form words about it

[slapmeshigaraki]

﹙✿﹚"Ask and you shall receive." ﹙✿﹚

♡ warnings: caleb x fem!reader, fingering, dirty talk, begging, caleb is kinda gross in this, manipulation if you squint

♡ a/n: caleb's update has me obsessed and i have no one to talk to about it... so i wrote this idk. something short,, enjoy xx

Caleb was the kind of person that needed to be needed. You couldn’t open the lid on the pickle jar—he wanted you to ask him for help. You weren’t feeling well—he wanted you to ask him to come over and make you some soup. You needed to cum—you’d better ask him to do that too.

“Come on, use your big girl words for me, sugar.” You could barely keep your eyes open as the man above you thrusted into you relentlessly. Caleb was filthy, smiling down at you as such sinful words fell from his lips. The visual of his toned arms flexing as his rough hand gripped your thighs, holding them apart while he slid in and out of you at a pace that made you unable to form coherent sentences, only fragments and desperate little whines. He was about to cum just at the sight of you, eyes rolling into the back of your head, tears streaming down your cheeks, spine arching off the the mattress with each movement he made, your little hand pressing against his abs, sticky skin trying your best to push him away from between your legs. You just wanted, no, you needed him to slow down, his relentless abuse of your little hole quickly becoming too much to bare.

“Please I- Caleb pleasee…” Another whine. You were sure you looked pathetic, weak little fingers hopelessly pressing against him, to no avail. After all, he was so much bigger than you, so much stronger than you that no matter how hard you tried to make him slow his pace, if Caleb didn’t want to slow down… there was nothing you could do about it.

“Please what, baby? Tell me what you want, go on…” His violent irises darkened, devouring you with ease as he reached his free hand out to you, thumb caressing your soft cheek and rubbing your tears into your skin. He leaned into you, folding you in half as he forced your plush thigh against your tummy. You were so close now… his lips a mere inch away from your ear. His ragged breaths were music to your ears, the warmth causing even more wetness to pool between your legs. You were sloppy… just like Caleb wanted you. “Tell daddy what you need.”

“I wanna cum so bad."

“Aw, sweet girl. You wanna cum? Is that how we ask for things?” he whispered into your ear, sinister grin evident in his tone. He could tell you were close by the way your walls fluttered against him, clenching onto his dick, begging for him to cum inside so politely. He finally slowed down, pulling out until only the tip, thick and aching, was left against your entrance before slowly forcing his way back inside of you, rolling his hips against you once your skin finally met again. This was somehow more agonizing than before, the change of pace making your legs shake against him. He couldn’t help but to coo at the sight—such a sweet thing writhing underneath him, big doe eyes filled to the brim with tears, your little tummy quivering every time he moved.

“Please Caleb can I cum?” You stuttered out, moans interrupting each word against your will.

“I don’t know baby, can you?” The warmth of his hand on your face was gone at once, quickly moving to where you needed it the most. His thumb pushed itself against your clit, moving in the same sinful rhythm as his hips, rubbing your juices against the sensitive bud.

“You were just tryna push me away earlier and now you want to cum? You must be confused, hm? Am I fucking you that good?”

“Yes oh my god, you feel so good.”

“Pretty girl, getting fucked stupid on daddy’s cock. There’s nothing in that sweet little head is there? You just wanna feel good huh, only ever thinking with your cunt,” he said, pressing a soft wet kiss against your leg that was now limply dangling over his shoulder.

“I can certainly tell she wants it. What a messy pussy for me…” his index finger pressed against your entrance, the tip daring to slide in beside his cock. He wasn't sure you'd be able to take it, but your pussy... she was already asking him so sweetly. How could he say no?

“Beg me.” It wasn’t a request or a suggestion, but an order. The kind he must’ve barked out to his subordinates on the fleet, the kind that made men straighten their backs in attention or cower in fear, the kind that mare you grip him even tighter.

“Caleb please. I need you to make me cum. Please may I cum.”

"Ask and you shall receive, sweetheart." Without warning, you felt his thick digit slide into you, each knuckle forcing your walls to widen and a string of filthy moans to flood the room from the two of you.

“Aw bi-biiiig stretch, sorry sugar. It feels good though, huh, being so full? Is daddy making his pretty girl feel good?” He knew you wouldn’t be able to answer him any longer, a fog of pleasure clouding your head, leaving that familiar fucked-out look on your face, tongue hanging out of your mouth as the pressure rose inside of you. His finger and cock stretched your insides so nicely, your tight hole gripping them both, trying to milk out a week’s worth of cum from Caleb.

“Go ahead, it’s okay, you can let it go. Let me hear you whine for me while I make my this pussy cum all over me. Such a sloppy fucking girl, aren’t you—“ To Caleb’s surprise, his string of encouragement was cut off by the most intense feeling he’d ever felt, the sensation of your pussy cumming around him the hardest it ever has. Your body spasmed beneath him, wetness soaking his skin and the sheet beneath you as he continued to move slowly into you, letting you ride it out and grind against him all you needed.

“What a big girl cumming on daddy’s cock—making a big mess for me to clean up later aren’t you, baby. That’s okay… daddy doesn’t mind helping his baby out. All you have to do is ask.”

[thetadispatcher]

Vincent gave a quiet hum of approval as he nodded his head very slightly. He didn't know any better way to put his thoughts into words without risking rambling again. He still wasn't used to talking to people, having become too reliant on using non verbal forms to communicate.

He also preferred noises over actually speaking, even with people he knew well and trusted. It was something he'd learned was called selective mutism, another thing his anxiety was causing that he was trying to work on. The AP700 felt he'd worked on enough of his issues for the day, and that the other would understand why he hadn't given a verbal response, and not be offended by his silence.

"Perhaps that is true. I like a challenge, a chance to further improve my skills." Nines was the last model Cyberlife ever released, and he'd been made to excel at his intended function, so finding something that could be considered challenging for him was quite hard.

So he was happy to have found a chance to further improve his skills, and he felt it would be a waste to pass up on the opportunity. "I already have these two fully worked out, so there's not much fun in it for me. And I see a fun opportunity in front of me, so I'd be a fool to pass on it." The RK900 kept his expression neutral, another thing he found to greatly annoy those around him. He found it funny how something as simple as refusing to show emotions, whether it was by changing his facial expression or letting his LED shift colors, could cause so many to yell at him for it.

The other two androids just looked at Nines, seemingly annoyed by the android's blunt way for saying things, but they didn't comment on it as they knew it wouldn't do anything.

Strasky glanced at the RK800 as he went back to his previous task of picking out toys that fit what Willow had said, he had to agree that it was very clear that Vincent was trying to better himself. Even if the AP700 clearly didn't want to, he had people who encouraged him and didn't find his behavior annoying.

"Maybe one day, I just can't say when..." It wasn't a topic he could see himself approaching in the near future, at least not until he could think about it without feeling every muscle in his body tense, and the sensation of his heart sinking.

The physical reaction and the instant mental turmoil that followed was enough for him, enough to know that he couldn't be able to talk about it without something bad happening. "And I don't want to promise anything as I might disappoint a lot of people if I do..."

"I can offer my assistance, but I can only do so much. Although I suppose any help is better then nothing." Dan knew he had given a rather troublesome reason for Strasky's behavior, and there was no good way to look at it. He had a feeling medications wouldn't work on someone without a fully functional brain, and therapy would only do so much.

He paused as he recalled something that had been said to him once, deciding maybe he should share one of Peter's more insightful spiels. "The way in which one can lose themselves only to find themselves again when faced with grief by staring into the face of what hurts most and deciding it's worth trying, recognizing even in the midst of confusion and despair and mere hopelessness that happiness is achievable and worth the struggle it takes to obtain it. Peter said that once, and I feel it applies to this situation." The PL600 said with a slight nod as he thought of how to further explain his point.

"He just has to realize that he won't get anywhere, that nothing will get better, until he faces down the thing that hurts the most, and finally talks about. Maybe then that voice in his head, the one he allows to degrade him, will no longer have any power as he realizes the things it tells him are lies. That he doesn't have anything to fear, he doesn't have to be perfect to make others like him, he only needs to be himself and people who like that will find him, he doesn't have to search for them." Dan explained as he gently pet the creature resting on his shoulders, it was clearly very interested in what they were talking about even if it didn't fully comprehend it.

"Simply put, he has to stop feeding the monster looming over him, allowing it to have power over him, and go against what it says."

It wasn't a long wait before Vincent reactivated. The android only briefly shifted his gaze away from his work to look at the other, knowing by now that the pain around the LED was temporary. This was all pretty standard, there was no need to get worked up about it.

He kept at it once Vincent while settled down more comfortably, then showed the result of his efforts so far. He seemed to be making a chicken.

Bishop's expression didn't shift during the exchange, nor at Nines' offer.

"Aren't you by any chance offering to switch seats because you are the one in need of a challenge?" he replied with a smirk.

It'd definitely be more difficult to get away with lies, but he had accepted to play to see how good Nines was and the only way to do that was to challenge him directly.

Willow motioned with her hand at Sixty's answer, pointing out she was right about Vincent's chances of improving. It was perhaps the only positive part, as having no record of androids who deviated because of positive influences wasn't exactly encouraging.

She could, however, encourage Strasky. "Please, do try once you feel ready. There are many new people waiting to welcome you for who you are. You simply have to let them in and perhaps consider seeing a therapist."

"Wow." Rook ran a hand through her hair, "That’s a lot of stuff to drop on somebody who resents herself every other day. I got him out of hell and told him to stay clear of Bishop. I'm only good at fighting things, I'm going to mess that up."

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

punishment on the poker table

a/n: i've had this fantasy floating around in my brain ever since i came up with this au. damn it feels good to finally have it written out all sluttily as it deserves to be

summary: “well, well, well… what do we have here…” he slowly swept his broad thumb across your tender flesh as he gazed down at the discovery, “just a friend, huh? However, did you manage to lose your panties hanging out with your friend? Come on, I think we’d all love to know.” 

warnings: camgirl!reader x various, pornstar!lee bodecker, pornstar!ari levinson, pornstar!lloyd hansen, pornstar!nick fowler, smut, porn au, college au, reader’s porn name is cherry blossom (UrLittleCherry), filming pornography, reader has been in the porn industry for a while now (maybe a few months?), voyeurism, exhibitionism, gangbang, daddy kink (probably the only scenario where you can catch me playing around with this kink, because in most circumstances it's sadly not my cup of tea), classic porn step fantasy, impact play, pussy inspection, hair pulling, masturbation, fingering, pussyjob, oral, handjob, dirty talk, size kink, manhandling, multiple orgasms, squirting, penetrative sex, anal, unprotected sex

word count: 2850

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

sugar & spice au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

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“Hey beautiful,” you heard over your shoulder as you sat in the kitchen of the rented house you found yourself in, putting the last finishing touches on your makeup for today’s shoot. 

Twisting around, you swiftly leapt from your seat as you recognised the figure leaning against the doorframe “Ari!” you threw your arms around his bulky form, “hi! How are you?”

“Can’t complain,” his broad palm ran down your spine before you retracted from the embrace, “how about you? I’ve heard you’ve been quite busy lately.”

“Yeah, I have,” a short giggle bubbled out of you, “but it’s been so much fun, though I’m still figuring out the balancing act between this, camming and school.” 

As his feet then began to shuffle, your own shifted as well and carried you back out into the other room where crew members slipped around and prepped the space. With half of their attention directed at their work, their heads still twisted as they zigzagged between the rest of the stars for today’s fantasy, as the guys, lounging on the set, dragged their old friends into whatever they were chatting about. 

“Oh, I didn’t know you’d all arrived,” each of their head twisted at the sound of your voice, “I thought Ari was the only one apart from me.”

“Sorry to disappoint, sweetheart,” Nick caught your palm as you neared the poker table they surrounded and pressed his lips to the back of it. 

“Good to see you again, Nicky,” you chuckled as the warmth of his peck lingered on your skin. 

“Oh, you guys have worked together before?” Ari sank down into the last of the chairs around the games table.

“Uhm, well, we have,” you gestured to the brunette who’d just kissed your hand, “a fun little POV shoot a month ago,” your gaze then drifted to Ari, “and we’ve of course worked together, I don’t think I’ll have to remind you of that,” you smiled before shifting your vision to the last two, “but, this is my first time with each of them,” you pointed between the two moustachioed men before grasping first the hand of the one to the left, “Lloyd,” a flutter flicked through your lower abdomen as you met the pornstar’s dazzling gaze, “hi.”

“Don’t get starstruck on me now,” he winked, “if you’re gonna cream your panties, wait till the camera’s rolling.” 

Puffing out an airy laugh at his joke, “no promises,” you then shifted to catch the other man’s palm, “and Lee,” he slowly rose from his seat as he shook your hand, “or should I say daddy,” a small chuckle rumble in his chest as you warmed up to the title he’d get to adorn in today’s storyline, “wonderful to finally meet you.”

“You too,” he smiled, then added before he let go of your fingers, “I’ve been looking forward to finally working with you.”

“Really?” an amazed grin lit up your face as you blinked back at the seasoned professional. 

“Oh yeah, just ask my agent. I’ve been quite literally begging for this to happen.”

“Have you ever shot a gangbang before?” Lloyd then asked. 

“Uhm, no,” you shook your head, “first gangbang–, or well, on screen that is. Although I haven’t ever been with four guys at once before, so that’s new,” your glance flickered over each of their faces, “but I’m excited! I’m prepped and ready, this is gonna be fun.” 

But before your face could heat up any further, the doors to the room burst open and in strolled, not only the head of the studio, Romanoff Productions, but also the visionary who had signed on to direct the shoot herself. 

“Oh, great! You’re all here,” Natasha came to a stop right before you all, “then it won’t be long now,” she stated before landing her gaze on you, “Cherry, should we take a look at what you’re gonna wear?”

“Yeah,” you followed along as she then slipped back into her swift stride, “I brought a few options, some different plaid skirts, all depending on what colour you had in mind.”

The camera low in Natasha’s grasp shadowed your ass, shyly peeking out from under your short blue plaid skirt with every quiet step, as you sneaked down the hallway from the front door and into the dimly lit living room. 

“Breaking curfew…” a deep voice then rumbled somewhere in the darkness. 

Spinning around, you spotted the group of men surrounding the round table in the corner, “Lee! Oh my god,” faking a fright, you clasped a palm over your exposed chest, as your tight shirt wasn’t just sparsely buttoned, but also gathered up and tied around your waist. 

“Lee?” Lloyd murmured and shifted the cards in his grasp, “is that what you call your stepfather?” 

Sinking your teeth down into your bottom lip, you quietly uttered, “…daddy...”

“Good girl,” Lee nodded, though didn’t glance over his shoulder at you as he then dropped his cards to the table and sighed, “now, are you gonna tell me why you were out so late or should I just punish you without knowing the full reason? I’m fine either way,” his fingers gently played with a stack of poker chips beside him. 

“Oh, I don’t know if that is necessary,” you swiftly shook your head and attempted to shuffle closer towards the staircase, “I'm only 45 minutes late–”

“Come here,” his command was low and clear as his glare finally locked upon your figure in the dark. 

“What?” your fingers fiddled lightly with the hem of your skirt, fluttering just above where a pair of long socks stretched up to. 

“Cherry, you can come here right now, or you can get out of my house.”

Though it was all just pretend, his low tone still sent a shiver down your spine, “you’re gonna kick me out? Just for staying out a little bit too late?”

“But that’s not all you were doing, was it?” he tilted his head before pushing his chair back a few inches from the poker table, “come on,” his palm came down to clap his thigh, “don’t act like this is the first time your bratty ass has needed to be taken over my knee.”

Glancing around to the others, “shouldn’t we go up to my room? You have company,” you added in a whisper. 

“Oh, they don’t mind,” he stated, keeping his gaze locked upon you as he raised his voice, “do you boys?”

“Not in the slightest,” Nick smirked and leaned back in his seat, eyeing you just as brashly as the rest of them did. 

Slowly, you closed the distance to stand beside Lee’s seated form, though before even offering you another glance, the older man seized your frame and tilted you over his lap. 

With your bottom barely covered in your tiny schoolgirl skirt, a yelp slipped up from your lungs as Lee sent his hand down to land, not a light beginning tap across it, but a harsh smack that had you jumping in his lap. 

“So, are you gonna come clean and tell us all what you have been up to, young lady?” he asked after you’d lost count of his generous spanks. 

“I-I was just hanging out with a friend from school,” you squeaked and dug your fingers into his thigh. 

Though as his palm came down upon your ass once again, the smack caused your flimsy skirt to flip up, just enough for him to catch sight of the secret it had been hiding. 

“Well, well, well… what do we have here…” he slowly swept his broad thumb across your tender flesh as he gazed down at the discovery, “just a friend, huh? However, did you manage to lose your panties hanging out with your friend? Come on, I think we’d all love to know.” 

But you kept your mouth shut as goosebumps pricked and covered your skin.

“Fine,” the word that left his lips was accompanied by a swift spank that soared across your bare bottom, “you don’t wanna talk? I’ll just have a look myself then,” he murmured before tilting closer, ever so slightly, and began to spread you apart. 

“What are you–,” you peeked back at him over your shoulder, though your objection melted from your lips as his touch then swept through your glistening folds, “oh, f-fuck…”

“Doesn’t seem to me like you were just hanging out with a friend…” sticky strings of want created a web as Lee probed your puffy petals apart, letting him inspect your little hole, “…you know, I don’t ask much of you, but I do require you to obey my rules, and this?” his touch ghosted against your clit, making you swallow a moan, “this breaks nearly all of them.”

“I'm sorry, I just–”

“Sorry is not gonna cut it anymore! You’re gonna have to learn that there are consequences to your actions,” he growled before landing a swift slap against your glistening pussy, causing you to let out another cry. 

As you tried to wiggle off his lap, the hand he’d had splayed across your lower back soared up to tangle itself in the hair at the base of your neck to keep you in place as he let his fingers sweep through your folds. 

“You just need a bit tough love to learn the rules, that’s all…” he uttered over the sinful symphony of his persistent touch against your embarrassingly wet cunt. 

“You’re a fucking pervert,” you grumbled through a heavy pant. 

“You can call me whatever you want, I don’t fucking care,” his grip in your hair then tightened as he yanked you closer, your back having to arch to reach the angle he searched for, “you can either get what you deserve, or I can throw you out on your ass,” his breath fanned across your hot cheek as his lips nearly grazed it with every seething word he uttered, “it’s your choice.” 

“…fine,” you finally replied through your gritted teeth before his grasp let go of your hair and sent you back down to stare at the floor.  

Slowly, as Lee slipped a finger inside of you and gradually began to stretch you out, your eyes drifted shut and didn’t flutter back open till another one of his digits had eased inside of you and tickled out a quiet whimper, deep from within your soul. However, as you blinked your eyes back open, they fluttered up to discover the hard lengths that the others around the poker table had freed from their pants. 

“Oh my god!” your eyes widened as you watched their fists slowly jerk up and down, leisurely stroking themselves as they stared at you, “Lee! Your friends, they’re–”

“Shh,” he kept up his touch as you began to quiver, “don’t mind them.” 

By the time you were fighting the unbearable urge to cum, your body was flailing so fiercely that Lee had to clasp a forearm down around your waist in order to keep you over his lap. In the intoxicating fog you found yourself submerged in, someone caught your hand, and it wasn’t till moments later that it truly sank through your haze and you squinted over to discover Lloyd’s grasp engulfing your own, as he guided your touch over himself, his girth throbbing beneath your fingers. The vision alone was enough for you to throw in the towel and lose the battle to the high that then promptly washed over you. 

Before your daze had a chance to fade, your frame was flipped back upright to briefly sit in Lee’s lap, and your reality was still so fuzzy that it took a moment for you to register when some of the others reached out to rip your shirt off, though the blue plaid that clung around your hips as well as the high socks, those were allowed to stay perfectly in place. 

“You wanna fucking learn what happens to little sluts, huh?” Lee clutched your jaw in his grasp and growled against your cheek, “because that’s how you’re acting, so you might as well learn what it’s like to be treated as one.” 

Flinging you around, he manhandled you onto the table, the others swiftly swiping away the cards and chip stacks out of the way before you landed in the middle.  

“Since you’ve got no problem spreading your legs for your little friends, then mine shouldn’t be an issue either, should it now?” 

“I–,” you panted, blinking up at Lee as he nudged your trembling thighs apart, “fuck…”

“What was that?” he smacked your sensitive cunt to conjure a clearer answer. 

“Ah!” you let out a shriek, “no, daddy! Fine! Let them use me, what do I care!”

“Oh, you’ll care, babydoll…” Lloyd swiftly snatched up your right hand and brought it back to his cock, “must warn you, we aren’t as gentle as those little boys you hang out with.”

“But that’s alright, isn’t it?” Nick smirked as he seized your other hand and yanked it towards his own dick, “your cute little pussy deserves the punishment.”

Glancing between them all, you uttered, “you’re all sick.”

“Says the girl who just came,” Lloyd pointed out through a short chuckle. 

“I did nothing wrong!” you continued, raising your voice, “everyone my age fools around! It’s not like I came home knocked up or anything–”

“Somebody shut her up,” Lee suddenly exhaled before Ari appeared above your head and swiftly stuffed his fat girth into your mouth, snuffing out the remainder of your sentence as it vibrated against his cock. 

Your legs were then folded up till both Lloyd and Nick at your sides caught them and held your limbs in place, keeping you open for Lee as he fiddled with his fly. 

Staring down at your pussy, Lee finally freed his cock and uttered, “now…” offering himself a gentle stroke as he took a step closer to you, “what are we gonna do to you…” he then tapped the heavy weight of his dick against your petals, making you squirm as sticky strings of desperation clung to his length, “maybe a little something here? Is that what you need in order to finally respect my rules?” he briefly flicked the bulbous head through your folds before his lips tilted into a sly smirk, “nah, I don’t think so… you need to be filled up somewhere that hasn’t already fucked tonight.” 

And then, with the slickness now glistening up his cock, as well as the juices that had already leaked and dripped down, Lee began to split open your ass. 

A cry promptly escaped you at the mind-numbing stretch, though as the sound vibrated against Ari’s girth, he only seized the opportunity and slid down even further till the staggering imprint of his size was bulging in your throat and his heavy sack was nuzzled up against your face.

“That’s it…” Lee groaned as he slowly filled you up, “that’s what you needed, isn’t it, kiddo?”

Though you had no clue who, a few of the men began to play with your tits, offering them playful smacks to make them jiggle hypnotically or even tug and pull on your pebbly nipples. 

“Oh, would you look at that fucking cunt?” you heard Lloyd grunt as he watched closely at how your empty pussy was blowing euphoric bubbles, before you felt him reach down to grab your desperate core, pinching the puff a moment as they all marvelled in unison. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s enjoying her little lesson,” Ari chuckled as you choked on his cock. 

“How could she not?” Nick reached down and slipped a finger inside your leaky hole, “you’re just a little whore for your stepdad and his friends, aren’t you?”

Sliding a digit in as well beside the other pornstar’s, Lloyd then murmured, “maybe instead of playing poker when we come over, we could all just play with you.”

Letting his cock slip out of your mouth, Ari craned down to touch you as well and began to bully your puffy clit, “yeah, you’d be a perfect little toy, wouldn’t you? Your daddy will teach you right how to treat us all.”

As Lee’s heavy sack smacked against your slick skin at his next deep thrust, you once again unravelled before them all, though this time in a rippling display that had your poor pussy gushing around the men’s fingers.

“Oh! That’s a good fucking girl!” Lee pulled his cock out of your ass before he joined in on the other’s torture, though didn’t stop till you were shaking violently beneath them and they couldn’t tickle forth anymore squirt from your overstimulated cunt, “I honestly didn’t think you had it in you, but just look,” he caught your eye, “you’re learning already.” 

A smile found his features before he then, without warning, stuffed his girth into your pussy, beside the fingers that no one, not even himself, slipped out, but instead utilised the leverage to pry your clambering and sensitive pussy open for Lee’s fat girth. 

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[satsugacafe]

「 𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 」

➳❥ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Bleach men x fem!reader

➳❥ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, fem!reader, edging (fem receiving), teasing, brat taming

➳❥ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 450

➳❥ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭: Acting up always had it’s consequences. And lucky for you, your lover has the best method for dealing with it.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

There’s just something predatory about the way he grins when he knows you’re right where he wanted you from the very start. The soft sighs and mewls that escape your lips, the flutter of your lids before the whites of your eyes show or how your body trembles uncontrollably at the rise in pressure.

The gentle and rhythmic pat–pat of his balls smacking your ass as he buried himself deeper with each thrust until he could go no further. The painfully delicious curve of his tip brushing against your sweet spot and forcing your rivers of cream to flow endlessly; he had you good, and it was only a matter of time before your nails curled into his bicep and your voice echoed pleas.

“Babe…too much. Too deep—” your voice would be cut off by the pressure of his fat tip rubbing circles against your sweet spot, making your head spin. Seductively, he would gyrate his hips to stretch you open, loving the small shivers as you attempt to clamp around his cock—anything to enjoy the kiss of his veins sliding through your gummy walls as he stretched you open painfully. How different from your words?

Looking up at him with tears in your lashes, you frowned at the new tempo he inconsiderably set. “B-baby…please, don’t tease.” But that was all he needed to hear to understand you were right where you belonged. Right where he wanted you.

Lips gripping his cock and showing evidence of wanting to suck him back in, milking the very essence of his cock. Squeezing and clenching erratically and shooting tiny kisses in the form of heartbeats all over his delicious length. Your words and actions were a form of sorcery he had yet to discover the more his cock dragged in and out slowly, covered in the perfect foam of cream. He could spilt you open on his cock all day just to listen to your cries and watch as your body did the opposite.

Pushing your legs further over your head and forcing you into a deeper mating press, you were commanded to lie there and take his torture. The sinful and diabolical articulation of his hips rolling to knock the air out your chest all with a single move—rubbing his fat tip against your cervix. “Gonna cum for me, pretty girl. Gonna make a mess all over my cock?”

His enigmatic, hazy expression roaming your fucked out and weary face prompted him to choke on a snort. All that loud–mouthing earlier and now look at you. Drunk off his cock and cum, begging for more. How pathetic and needy.

“Now let me hear all that you were saying earlier?” He had you right where you belonged.

— Yhwach, Jugram, Askin, Bazz-B, Shunsui, Kisuke, Byakuya, Gin, Aizen, Shinji, Ichigo, Grimmjow

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @stygianoir @edensrose

©satsugacafé: no permission to repost, plagiarise, copy or translate my work onto any platform.

[lazysoulwriter]

Timeless Temptation - Lewis Hamilton.

MDNI! requested! hope u like itttt

The sun hung low over Monaco, painting the city in warm, golden light. You were curled up on the balcony of Lewis’s penthouse, scrolling through your phone while sipping a glass of white wine. The distant hum of the city mixed with the gentle sounds of the sea, and behind you, Lewis was lounging in his chair, flipping through a magazine he wasn’t really reading.

A sudden laugh escaped your lips as you scrolled past a particularly ridiculous meme. You tried to stifle it, but it was too late—Lewis looked up immediately, intrigued.

“What’s so funny, baby?” he asked, setting the magazine aside and leaning forward.

You shook your head, trying to suppress a grin. “You wouldn’t get it,” you said, your tone light and teasing.

His brow furrowed, a playful frown tugging at his lips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You looked at him, your grin widening. “It’s… just a generational thing. You know, young people humor.”

Lewis tilted his head, fixing you with a pointed look. “Young people humor?” he repeated, his tone dripping with disbelief.

“Well, yeah,” you replied, sitting up straighter and waving your phone slightly. “Some things are just for us Gen Z kids. I mean, you’re practically a millennial relic.”

His jaw dropped slightly, and you couldn’t help but laugh again. “A relic?” he echoed, his voice tinged with mock outrage. “You’re calling me a relic now?”

“I’m just saying,” you teased, leaning back with a smirk. “Some things are… you know, above your pay grade. Or your age bracket.”

Lewis leaned forward, placing his glass on the table. The glint in his eyes shifted, and you immediately recognized the look. It was the look he got when he was ready to prove a point. “Oh, we’re going there, are we?” he murmured, his voice low.

“Where?” you asked innocently, though the gleam in your eye betrayed you. “I’m just pointing out facts. You’re… experienced.”

“Experienced?” he repeated, standing up slowly and walking toward you. “You make me sound like someone’s dad.”

“Well—” you started, but the words caught in your throat as he stopped in front of you, towering over your seated form. His hands rested on the arms of your chair, caging you in, and his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your stomach flip.

“Let me ask you something,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “You think any of these so-called ‘young guys’ can fuck you the way I do?”

Your breath hitched, but you weren’t about to give in so easily. “I mean, they’d have energy—”

He cut you off, his smirk growing. “Energy’s nothing without skill. And you know damn well I’ve got plenty of that.”

Your cheeks burned, and you tried to look away, but he wasn’t having it. His hand moved to your chin, gently tilting your face back toward his. “You can tease me all you want about being older, but we both know none of those boys could make you feel the way I do.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. “You’re so cocky,” you muttered, though your voice lacked the bite you’d hoped for.

“And I’ve earned it,” he shot back, his thumb brushing against your jaw. “Unless you’re saying you’d rather test that theory?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but the words never came. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, leaving no room for doubt about who had the upper hand. By the time he pulled back, you were breathless, your earlier bravado shattered.

“Still think I wouldn’t understand?” he asked, his smirk firmly in place as he straightened up.

You shook your head quickly, a small laugh escaping you. “Nope. Definitely not.”

“Good,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Because I’m far from done proving you wrong.”

As he walked back to his seat, you stared after him, trying to regain your composure. You could still feel the heat from his touch, the way his words lingered in the air.

“You really hate it when I bring up the age gap, huh?” you asked after a moment, breaking the silence.

Lewis glanced at you over his glass, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “Not really. I just like reminding you that it doesn’t matter.”

And with that, the playful tension melted into the easy rhythm of your relationship. You leaned back in your chair, a smile tugging at your lips. Age might have been a number, but with Lewis, it was the last thing that mattered.

[criswritessometimes]

quick break

contents - kissing, clit play, grinding, if you squint a little degrading and praise, smut

authors note // based off of this post by @fanficfox !! 18+ under break!!

you hear schlatt screaming from his office about rooms he was reviewing on stream. “that’s fuckin’ nasty man! nah we’re breaking a break after that, i gotta piss.” he says to his camera as he takes his headphones off and puts them on his desk. he walks out to find you on the sofa, wrapped up in a blanket, playing a game on your ipad. he walks up to the back of the sofa, looking over you, “hey toots, you look comfy.” you smile up at him, “i am, how’s the stream?” schlatt walks around the couch to sit down with you for a minute. it doesn’t take him long for his hands to creep onto your thigh and trace patterns. his eyes look down at the connection, “it’s fine, i guess. i feel like i could be putting my time to better things.” his eyes dart up to yours, then back down, “but it’s fine gotta pay the bills.” you chuckle, “jay, i can always pick up extra shif-” he cuts you off by kissing you. his hand on your thigh moves to your inner thigh and closer to your core as his other hand holds your head by your jaw and neck. “but you look so pretty all comfy like this doll.” he whispers to you as he starts to hover over you to get to you lay down.

you start to feel lightheaded as his fingers begin to rub your folds through your pants, and his mouth starts to leave kisses from your mouth to your neck sucking and pulling on the skin lightly. “hmmm, jay what about stream.” you whimper out. his mouth breaks from your neck as he looks at you and says, “what about ‘em?” at the last word, you feel his hand move to your underwear over the hem. your eyes go wide as he starts to play with your clit. “oh my sweet baby, always so wet after i kiss your neck, yeah?” schlatt whispers in your neck as his hand continues. you throw your head back in pleasure as you hold onto his shoulders, and your legs start to widen. “please jay, please go faster, need more pressure.” you beg him as your hips begin to buck to meet his finger. “but i wanna play with you for a bit longer love.” his voice is dripping in sweetness, as to tell you he’s doing this for you and not because he needs a break. “please baby. need your fingers in me and your tongue on my clit.” you beg out again, trying to plea to get more stimulation. schlatt’s shocked you can still form sentences as his eyebrows jump, “oh wow, we can still make sentences, i guess you can get my fingers.”

his hand moves down slightly as you can feel his pointer and ring finger at your entrance. “so wet for me, so good, doll.” he kisses your jaw as his fingers slowly sink into you. your face relaxes as you can feel each knuckle going in, then out, then in again. schlatt feels your grip release from his shoulder, “yeah, feeling good?” you nod, your teeth holding your lip to hold back your moans. you can feel your orgasm threatening to take over and schlatt notices too. “gonna cum? come on cum all over my fingers, toots. “yeah, please let me cum, please, baby.” you beg him. “aw, so good to ask; go ahead, doll. cum all over my fingers.” he encourages. you let your orgasm tighten and relax your body all at once, your head is thrown back, and your eyes are screwed shut. however, you can hear schlatt unbuckle his belt and the zipper on his jeans. 

right as you're about to look back up at him, “oh shit, i gotta get back to stream.” he scrambles off you, kisses your forehead, and fixes his pants while rushing back to his office. he sits back down as the chat is cheering for his return. he puts his headphones back on, “hey guys, sorry for the long break jambo threw up and i had to clean the couch real quick and throw a blanket in the wash. lets get back to looking at your disgusting rooms.” he eyes the chat as he’s going through the drive.

whaletail: aww poor jambo :(

cashewdeznuts: JAMBOOOO NOOOOO

firefoxy69: wait didnt schlatt say a while a go jambo never throws up??

[shuafiles]

CONTENT | fluff, jealous bf!vernon

A/N | dont mind me im just a girl who has a big crush on her bias (especially after seeing him in person)

vernon wasn’t the kind of boyfriend to get jealous easily. in fact, you couldn’t recall a moment where he showed any hint of jealousy. not that he didn’t care—vernon cared deeply about you. he just didn’t see the point of being jealous when he knew he could trust you wholeheartedly.

at least, that’s what you thought.

all it took was for the barista to hit on you for him to finally crack.

“hi! may i take your order?”

“one white mocha, please,” you said with a small smile. the barista returned the gesture while he scribbled down your order on your cup.

“name?”

“y/n.” you handed him your card.

“pretty name for a pretty lady.” the barista hummed, writing down your name on the cup before taking your card, returning it to you, and turning to complete your order.

you brushed off his compliment, not thinking much of it, stepping aside to wait for your order. but your boyfriend, on the other hand, raised his brow before looking down at his hand, which was clearly holding yours. he wondered if his public display of affection was not enough to ward off any flirtation comments from strangers.

a frown on his lips, he decided to wrap his arms around your waist while placing his chin on top of your head. you giggled, loving his attention as he wasn’t usually one to show this much affection in public.

“jealous much?” you teased, leaning your back against his chest.

“nope,” vernon replied curtly, his lips forming a thin line.

“if you say so.” you pressed a soft kiss on his jaw.

“y/n!” the barista announced your name, making you turn to claim your order at the counter. he smiled widely once he saw you, handing you your cup while purposely grazing his fingers against yours. “have a lovely day.”

you shot him a polite smile before returning to your boyfriend, who watched the entire scene with furrowed brows.

“he should knock it off.” vernon scoffed, circling his arm around your waist.

“what was that?” you lifted the cup to take a sip, but vernon snatched the plastic from your hands. “hey!”

vernon turned the cup to see that the barista had written down his number beside your name with a winky smiley face.

“oh, he’s tough.” vernon scoffed, rolling his eyes before returning your cup to you.

“baby, you know i’m not interested.”

“yeah, i know,” vernon responded, but the evident pout on his lips betrayed him.

vernon couldn’t help but sulk on the way home.

“alright, what’s up?” you asked, plopping down on his lap. you expected him to follow you into your shared bedroom, but instead, he sat on the couch in the living room, absentmindedly watching the television, but you know him all too well.

“i don’t know what you mean,” vernon muttered, remote in hand as he switched channels while his other hand instinctively found your thigh, placing it on the exposed skin.

“baby.” you glared at him, fingers tracing his jawline as he refused to face you. “tell me what’s wrong,” you mumbled, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

you heard him sigh, his fingers caressing your thigh. you knew he wasn’t great with words, but you still understood him completely.

“was it the barista?” vernon’s fingers froze, eyes avoiding your intense gaze on him. you couldn’t help but giggle at his state. “baby, i couldn’t care less about him. you know that, right?” you cupped his face, gently forcing him to face you. “i’m yours, and only yours.” you assured, voice firm but affectionate.

vernon’is lips twitched into a small smile, merely nodding his head to your words. “i know.” “good.” you smiled before placing a lingering kiss on his lips, feeling the tension on his shoulder dissipate at your touch.

“we should switch cafés,” vernon muttered against your lips.

you laughed, the sound filling the room, and vernon couldn’t help but smile wider. you had a way of making him feel like the luckiest guy in the world, no matter how many baristas tried to steal your attention.

[sammyluvr]

✶ sweet potatoes — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, fluff, mentions of kissing, food, and very minor injury (spilt hot water), unedited, 1.2K words. requested ! for my 900 followers event [ closed ] .

prompt : a kitchen that smells like roasted sweet potatoes + “honey–” “why do you keep calling me that?” “i– do you want me to stop?” “…no.”

the promise of a freshly made hot drink has you wandering into the bunker’s kitchen. coffee or tea or maybe even hot chocolate, you’ll decide when you get there. a warm, rich smell greets you before you make it all the way down the hallway, and you breathe in deeply as you cross the threshold to fill your senses with it.

you’re greeted by a sight almost as sweet as the scent. sam sits at the table off to the side, pouring over the book he’s reading these days. he looks up when he hears you and smiles lightly. he and the smell of roasting sweet potatoes is a familiar pairing by now. it’s his favorite way to cook them, and one of his favorite foods. they’re incredibly healthy, and though he doesn’t always love sugared tastes, he likes their particular version of sweet.

you smile back at him easily, drifting past him and to the cabinet stocked with mugs. “smells good,” you sigh as you pull a cup down, knowing he’s made some for you too.

“there’s fresh coffee,” he tells you, and you glance back to see him hold up his own plain white mug as evidence.

“thanks, i think i’ll have some tea, though,” you decide. there’s an herbal mix better suited for this time of day. he nods in understanding, and lets his attention drift back to the book. at least, that’s how it looks before you turn away from him to fill the kettle with water and switch on the flame beneath it. once you’re not looking, he is and his honeyed eyes are trailing your form as you move about the kitchen, settling the tea bag into your mug. his chin dips back down when you pad over to the little table and settle in the seat across from him.

you sit there, a bit absentminded as you wait for the water to boil and he keeps his eyes mostly trained on the book in front of him. his gaze has a tendency to wander when he’s around you, usually just to see you. to see the tip of your nose or catch the movement of your eyebrows as you try to understand something. just for your fingers or smile or eyes, or any part of you at all. but he’s been accused of having heart eyes around you, so he tries not to be too obvious. he wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

“so, when did the sweet potatoes go in?” you ask as a way to find out when they’ll be ready to eat. you asking him a direct question is an appropriate time for sam to be able to look at you, so of course, he does.

“about half an hour ago. it won’t be too long until they’re ready. you hungry?” he answers. he hopes you’re not too hungry to wait, maybe he should’ve asked you before.

“just a little,” you shake your head, thinking the timing to be perfect. you’ll be hungry enough by the time they’re cooled and ready to eat. the shrill whistle of the kettle interrupts you before you get the chance to ask him if he plans to make something with them or just eat them plain. you stand quickly to get rid of the noise. this old kettle is completely functional, but sometimes you think about investing in an electric one to avoid the loudness.

you turn of the stove and pull the kettle away from the heat. the water spills right into your mug over the tea bag as you tip the spout down. light brown tendrils stain the water, evening out into a pale color that will darken as it steeps. you fill the cup nearly to the brim, for no reason other than wanting more tea. then you set the kettle back down and loop your fingers through the handle, careful not to have your knuckles pressed into the now heated body of the mug.

sam watches fondly as you walk back to him, your movements slow and careful as to not spill. these efforts are futile the moment you sit down. you really should’ve just set the mug down before sitting, but maybe you’re a bit eager to be near sam again and the thought never crossed your mind. everything is much less steady as you lower yourself into the chair, scalding tea sloshing over the rim of the cup and pulling a pained gasp from your lips as it pours over your fingers.

“damn!” you hiss, spilling more as you quickly set the cup down and pull your hand away to rid it of the hot water.

“oh, honey,” sam mutters, the sweet name slipping from his lips without his control, just like it has been these days, a little too often. fingers gentle, he takes your hand from you by the wrist and pulls it towards him, inspecting it to see if he can find any signs of a burn. then he gives a soft tug. “c’mon, let’s get this under cold water.”

“it’s fine,” you say easily, but let him guide you back to the sink because your mind goes a little fuzzy every time he calls you that. he turns on the tap and checks the temperature, just to be sure it’ll be cold for you, then brings your hand under the stream of water. it feels nice, and you’re sure the burn won’t bother you for any longer than a few minutes. it’s quiet except for the rush of water and its splashing into the metal sink. closer to the oven, the scent the roasting sweet potatoes is thick, honeyed. honey. your voice is quiet when you speak, unable to let it go this time. “why do you keep calling me that?”

it takes him a moment to register what you mean. then he feels heat rise up from his neck, through his jaw, and into his cheeks. he’s not so sure how to answer. he calls you honey because he loves you, because it suits you, because he thinks you’re sweet and endearing and that you deserve to be called something soft and full of love. and also because he can’t help it. because it just slips out when he’s around you, and his self control wavers in your presence.

“i– do you want me to stop?” he says carefully. he decides to answer your question with one of his own, in hopes that he can deflect responsibility and in fear that he’s made you uncomfortable.

his fingers are still wrapped around your wrist with all the care in the world, and you probably don’t need to keep your hand under the water any longer, but you don’t move. there’s a moment where you don’t answer, and he holds his breath without realizing it. if you ask him to stop, it could very well break his heart.

“no,” you murmur, “no, you don’t have to stop.” it’s almost the perfect answer.

“but do you want me to?” he asks, voice softened like yours.

you shake your head. “no. i like it when you call me that. it just confuses me a little bit,” you say in all honesty. he turns the water off, and gently wraps your hand in a towel. in the process, he turns you both so that you’re face to face.

“i’m sorry i confused you. don’t be confused, though. i mean it when i say it,” he says, so very sincere and sending your heart into a lovesick panic.

your kiss is interrupted by the beeping of the oven timer, signalling the readiness of the sweet potatoes. you’re sure nothing will be as sweet as his lips, though.

[thequeenofneverland1]

Hwang In-ho/Frontman////secrets in the Dark

Anonymous request: could I request where the players thinks that you and Young-il are enemies, but in reality you and him are married

Warnings, Violence, Death, Psychological Tension, Manipulation and Betrayal, Conflict and Arguments, Survival Situations, Trauma, Emotions Distress, Isolation, Morally Ambiguous choices

The players were sitting on ground, some sitting in small groups, others keeping to themselves and You, Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Dae-ho, and Jun-hee were sitting together, engaged in a lively conversation. The group had been discussing something animatedly, laughing at jokes and tossing opinions back and forth. The energy was good, a natural flow that had everyone feeling at ease. Gi-hun had just finished making a joke when Young-il suddenly walked up, inserting himself into the circle without much hesitation. His interruption was abrupt, cutting through the thread of what someone was saying. You turned toward him, caught off guard by the interruption.

“Uh, excuse me, Young-il, but we’re in the middle of something here,” you said, your tone sharper than you intended, but the words were already out. There was a brief, charged silence as everyone processed the shift in mood. Young-il’s face tightened, and it was clear he was about to respond. Maybe a retort, maybe an explanation and his lips parted, but before he could say anything, Dae-ho cut in.

“Yeah, she’s right,” Dae-ho said, his tone calm but firm. He leaned slightly forward as if to emphasize his point. “We didn’t invite you into this conversation.” His words hung in the air, direct but not aggressive. The way he said it made it clear that it wasn’t personal, just a boundary.

Jun-hee glanced between you and Young-il, looking uncomfortable but not saying anything. Jung-bae shifted his weight slightly, crossing his arms, while Gi-hun avoided eye contact altogether, clearly trying to avoid getting involved.

Young-il’s expression hardened further, his eyes flicking to each person in the group as though weighing whether to push back or leave it alone. For a moment, it looked like he might say something else, but instead, he scoffed under his breath.

“Fine,” Young-il said, stepping back with an exaggerated shrug. “Didn’t realize this was some exclusive club or whatever.” He turned on his heel and walked away, his frustration evident in the stiff set of his shoulders.

The group watched him go, the air thick with an awkward tension. After a beat, Jun-hee sighed. “That was… a bit much,” she murmured, her voice soft.

“Maybe,” Dae-ho replied, running a hand through his hair, “but he really shouldn’t have just barged in like that.”

“Still,” Gi-hun added hesitantly, “it probably could’ve been handled a little… nicer.”

Everyone looked at you, waiting to see if you’d say anything else. The moment lingered, the silence a little too loud, before someone finally steered the conversation back to something else. But the mood had shifted, and it would take some time to ease back into the easy rhythm the group had before Young-il showed up.

The group had settled on the ground, forming a loose circle as you ate together. The atmosphere had lightened considerably since earlier, and laughter rippled through the group. Dae-ho was in the middle of telling a story about something ridiculous that happened back at home, and even the quieter ones like Jung-bae and Jun-hee were chiming in with jokes and reactions. It was comfortable just your group, relaxed and at ease. The food wasn’t much, but it was enough, and right now, that sense of camaraderie was more filling than the meal itself.

You were leaning back on your hands, half listening as Gi-hun tried to argue with Dae-ho over some small, inconsequential detail. Everyone was smiling, even you, when a shadow fell over the group.

You didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Young-il stood there, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he glanced around, seemingly oblivious to the subtle shift in energy. Without a word, he crouched down and then sat near you, sliding into the space that was barely big enough to accommodate him.

You didn’t try to hide your reaction. With an exaggerated sigh, you rolled your eyes and turned your head slightly toward him, your voice dripping with annoyance as you spoke. “We didn’t invite you to come and sit with us, old man.”

The words came out sharper than you’d intended again. but you weren’t about to backpedal. You glanced at him as you said it, your expression making it clear you weren’t joking.

The group went silent. Dae-ho’s eyes darted between you and Young-il, his usual easygoing demeanor faltering as he seemed unsure whether to jump in. Jun-hee looked down at her food, clearly uncomfortable, while Gi-hun raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Jung-bae simply chewed his food, his face blank, as if trying to stay out of whatever was about to happen.

Young-il froze for a moment, his jaw tightening as he looked at you. “Seriously?” he said, his tone somewhere between disbelief and irritation. He let out a short laugh, though there was no humor in it. “You really just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“You can’t help but barge in where you’re not wanted,” you shot back, sitting up straighter now. The words hung in the air, heavy and sharp, cutting through the fragile peace that had been holding the group together.

Dae-ho raised his hand, trying to diffuse the tension. “Hey, come on,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Let’s not turn this into a thing, all right? We’re just trying to eat.”

Young-il gave a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “Right. Because I’m the one turning this into a thing.” He stood up abruptly, brushing off his hands as he glanced around at the group. “Enjoy your meal, then,” he said curtly, before walking off, his back stiff with frustration.

The silence that followed was deafening. Nobody seemed to know what to say, and the easy camaraderie from before felt like a distant memory. Finally, Jun-hee broke the silence with a soft sigh. “You didn’t have to say it like that, you know,” she said, glancing at you cautiously.

You shrugged, reaching for another bite of food. “He wasn’t invited. Simple as that.”

Gi-hun shifted uncomfortably. “Still, it feels like this is getting… worse.”

Dae-ho leaned back on his hands, staring at the ground for a moment before speaking. “We’ve got bigger problems to deal with than this,” he said quietly, his tone unusually serious. “Let’s not waste energy fighting with each other.”

The group nodded, albeit reluctantly, and eventually the conversation picked up again. But the tension lingered, hanging over the circle like a cloud. Even as the group tried to move on, the encounter with Young-il left a mark, a reminder of how easily things could unravel.

The tension between you and Young-il had been building all day, and now it was on full display for everyone to see. The players were all gathered in the dormitory area, some sitting on the ground, others laying on the beds, each trying to make the best of the little time they had to rest before the next round. Conversations buzzed here and there, but the center of attention quickly shifted to you and Young-il as your voices began to rise.

“You’ve got a real attitude problem, you know that?” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet. He wasn’t looking directly at you, but it was clear who he was talking to.

The group immediately perked up, sensing the brewing argument. Gi-hun winced, glancing between the two of you, while Dae-ho muttered something under his breath that sounded like, “Here we go again.”

You scoffed, leaning forward and narrowing your eyes at him. “Oh, I have an attitude problem? Says the guy who can’t take a hint and leave people alone.”

Young-il turned to face you now, his expression sharp. “Maybe if you weren’t so busy acting like the queen of everything, people wouldn’t have a problem being around you.”

A few players sitting nearby started to murmur, exchanging amused glances. Gi-hun, who had been sitting quietly, watching the exchange with his usual laid-back demeanor, leaned forward slightly, a small smirk playing on his lips. Dae-ho and Jung-bae, meanwhile, were exchanging wide-eyed looks, caught between wanting to intervene and letting the argument run its course.

“Oh, give me a break,” you shot back. “The only reason people have a problem is because you keep sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. You can’t just walk into every conversation and expect people to welcome you with open arms.”

Young-il laughed, a bitter sound that only seemed to fuel the fire. “You’re unbelievable. You think everything revolves around you, don’t you? Newsflash: not everyone cares about what you think.”

Before you could respond, Jun-hee raised her hands in a weak attempt to intervene. “Okay, can we not do this right now? Seriously, this is getting old.”

But neither of you was listening. “At least I don’t go around acting like I know better than everyone else,” you snapped. “You think just because you’re older, you’re entitled to respect? Respect is earned.”

“Earning respect from you is like trying to squeeze water from a stone,” Young-il retorted. “You wouldn’t recognize decency if it hit you in the face.”

By now, nearly every player in the room had turned to watch the argument. Some looked uncomfortable, others entertained, while a few clearly enjoyed the spectacle. The tension was thick, but before either of you could say another word, someone broke the silence.

“You two really need to get a room,” one of the players called out, laughing. It was a guy from another group, leaning casually against the wall with a wide grin on his face. “Seriously, you argue like a married couple. I bet that if we weren’t all stuck in this hellhole, you two would probably get married.”

A wave of laughter rippled through the crowd, breaking the tension for everyone except you and Young-il. You froze, blinking in disbelief at the comment, while Young-il’s face twisted into a scowl.

“Married?” you repeated, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “With him? I’d rather die in the next game, thank you very much.”

“Oh, please,” Young-il shot back, rolling his eyes. “As if I’d ever even consider it. You’d drive me insane within a day.”

“That’s funny,” you said with a mocking smile. “Because you already drive me insane just by existing.”

The laughter in the room grew louder, and Gi-hun finally chimed in, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, let’s calm down before this turns into a full-blown lovers’ quarrel. We’ve got enough stress without adding romantic drama to the mix.”

Dae-ho smirked, leaning toward you and whispering just loud enough for everyone to hear, “You know, he’s got a point. You two do bicker like an old married couple.”

Jun-hee stifled a laugh, trying to maintain some level of composure, but her shoulders shook as she struggled to keep it in. “Maybe we should just leave them alone and let them work it out,” she teased, her voice light.

You groaned, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “Unbelievable. You’re all ridiculous.” Turning back to Young-il, you pointed a finger at him. “For the record, this ‘married couple’ nonsense is never happening. Ever.”

“Trust me,” Young-il said, shaking his head. “The feeling is mutual.”

The tension in the air was palpable as Gi-hun leaned back, casually throwing out his suggestion that Young-il should join the group. Gi-hun’s face was calm, almost too calm, as if he hadn’t just dropped a verbal bomb into the middle of your circle.

“Are you serious?” you said, your voice sharp with disbelief. “You want him in our group? After everything?”

Gi-hun shrugged, his usual easygoing demeanor infuriating in the moment. “Look, it’s not like we’re overflowing with allies here. Having one more person might help us later on. We’re all just trying to survive, right?”

You glared at him, your frustration boiling just below the surface. “Yeah, we’re trying to survive, not babysit someone who spends more time causing problems than being useful. Have you already forgotten what happened earlier?”

Before Gi-hun could respond, Young-il, who had been standing just on the edge of the circle, stepped forward with an arrogant smirk plastered across his face. “Well, it looks like I’m part of the group now,” he said, his tone smug as he glanced around at the others before turning his gaze to you. “Which means I’m allowed to talk. Guess you’ll have to get used to it.”

You stood up, not even trying to hide your irritation. “Don’t get too excited, old man,” you shot back, your voice cold and cutting. “Just because Gi-hun decided to take pity on you doesn’t mean I’m going to talk to you. And it definitely doesn’t mean you can butt into my conversations like you own the place. So stay out of my line, understand?”

Young-il raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your outburst. “You really think you can tell me what to do? Hate to break it to you, princess, but if I’m part of the group, I can sit wherever I want, talk whenever I want, and do whatever I want. You don’t get to make the rules.”

You took a step closer to him, your fists clenched at your sides. “You think this is a joke? This isn’t about rules. it’s about respect. Something you clearly don’t understand. If you want to stay in this group, fine, but don’t think for one second that I’ll put up with your crap. Step out of line, and you’re on your own.”

The rest of the group watched the exchange with a mix of amusement and unease. Dae-ho leaned back, his arms crossed as he glanced between you and Young-il. “Well, this is going to be fun,” he muttered under his breath, earning a stifled laugh from Jun-hee.

Gi-hun sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, can we all just calm down? Look, I get that this isn’t ideal, but we’re stuck in this situation together. The last thing we need is to turn on each other.”

“Tell that to him,” you said, jerking your thumb in Young-il’s direction.

Young-il smirked, his confidence unwavering. “Oh, I’m calm. She’s the one making a scene.”

You opened your mouth to fire back, but before you could, Jung-bae interjected. “Alright, enough,” he said, his tone firm. “We get it, you two can’t stand each other. But let’s be real none of us want to deal with this drama every time we sit down to eat and talk If you two can’t get along, then at least figure out how to ignore each other. The rest of us shouldn’t have to suffer because you two like to argue.”

You crossed your arms, still glaring at Young-il, but you knew Jung-bae had a point. With a frustrated sigh, you stepped back and sat down, though your eyes stayed locked on Young-il. “Fine. I’ll ignore him. But don’t blame me when he screws up.”

Young-il chuckled, taking a seat across from you with that same infuriating smirk. “Don’t worry, princess. I’ll make sure to stay out of your way. Wouldn’t want to ruin your perfect little world.”

You clenched your jaw but forced yourself to look away, focusing on your food instead. The tension lingered, but the group slowly began to settle back into their conversations, though it was clear the dynamic had shifted.

As the chatter resumed, Jun-hee leaned over and whispered, “You know, you’re going to have to deal with him eventually.”

You rolled your eyes, muttering under your breath, “Not if I can help it.”

The group had finally settled into an uneasy rhythm, with conversations drifting back and forth among the players. You sat with your arms crossed, still stewing over the earlier argument with Young-il. Though most of the group had moved on, you couldn’t shake the irritation gnawing at you. Every time you glanced at him, sitting there like he belonged, that smug look on his face only made your blood boil more.

As the conversation shifted to the earlier games, you couldn’t help but notice how quiet Young-il was. He wasn’t chiming in or offering any insight, which was unusual considering how much he seemed to enjoy running his mouth. That’s when it hit you, like a puzzle piece finally clicking into place.

Hey, old man,” you said sharply, your voice cutting through the murmured chatter. “I’ve got a question for you.”

Young-il raised an eyebrow, leaning back with a smirk as if he already knew you were about to accuse him of something. “Oh, here we go,” he said, his tone mocking. “What now? Didn’t I already promise to stay out of your ‘line’?”

You ignored his sarcasm, narrowing your eyes at him. “Where were you during the first game?” you asked, your voice steady but pointed.

The group exchanged uneasy glances, their curiosity piqued. Even Dae-ho, who usually tried to stay out of conflicts, looked intrigued.

“What are you talking about?” Young-il replied, his expression turning defensive.

“You heard me,” you said, sitting up straighter. “Where were you during the first game? Because I don’t remember seeing you there. None of us do. You showed up out of nowhere during the second game, acting like you’d been here all along. So tell me any care to explain, old man?”

Young-il’s smirk disappeared, replaced by a hardened expression. He sat up slightly, clearly caught off guard by the question but trying not to show it. “What, you’ve been keeping tabs on everyone here?” he shot back. “I didn’t realize I needed to check in with you to exist.”

“Don’t dodge the question,” you snapped. “Everyone else here went through hell in that first game. We all barely survived. But you? You just magically appeared when the second game started, looking perfectly fine. So either you skipped the first game, or you’re hiding something.”

Jung-bae shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the others. “She’s kind of got a point,” he said softly, though he immediately regretted saying anything when Young-il shot him a look.

Dae-ho scratched the back of his neck, clearly torn between wanting to diffuse the situation and his own curiosity. “Yeah, now that you mention it… I don’t remember seeing you during the first game either,” he said carefully.

Gi-hun leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “So? What’s the deal, Young-il?” he asked, his voice calm but firm.

Young-il let out a sharp exhale, rubbing his temples as if trying to compose himself. “Look, I didn’t skip anything, all right?” he said, his voice defensive. “I was there. You probably just didn’t notice me because I wasn’t making a scene, unlike some people.”

“Convenient excuse,” you said, your tone dripping with skepticism. “But I don’t buy it. We would’ve noticed you, especially since you seem to love getting involved in things that don’t concern you.”

Young-il’s jaw tightened, his patience clearly wearing thin. “What do you want me to say? That I hid like a coward? Fine. That’s what I did. I stayed out of sight and out of trouble because I wasn’t about to risk my life for some stupid game.”

The group stared at him, the tension thickening as his words sank in.

“At least I’m still here,” Young-il continued, his voice rising slightly. “Maybe I didn’t charge in headfirst like the rest of you, but I survived. Isn’t that the point?”

You crossed your arms, your expression unimpressed. “Survived by hiding while the rest of us fought to stay alive. How noble of you.”

“Enough!” Gi-hun suddenly interjected, raising his voice. “We’re all here now, aren’t we? What’s the point of fighting about what already happened?”

Dae-ho sighed, nodding reluctantly. “He’s right. As much as I hate to admit it, arguing about the past won’t help us survive what’s coming next.”

You clenched your jaw, wanting to push further but realizing you weren’t going to get any more answers at least, not now. “Fine,” you muttered, leaning back and crossing your arms. “But don’t think this means I trust you.”

Young-il chuckled dryly, shaking his head. “The feeling’s mutual, kid,” he said, his voice low.

The group sat in uneasy silence, the earlier camaraderie completely dissolved. Even as the conversation moved on, the lingering suspicion between you and Young-il remained like a crack in the foundation of the group, threatening to break everything apart.

“The air in the group had grown heavy over the past few days. Ever since the argument about Young-il’s mysterious absence during the first game, the tension between you two had only worsened. It was like a storm cloud hovering above, threatening to unleash at any moment. Everyone else in the group was walking on eggshells, trying to avoid setting either of you off.

But today, it finally exploded.

The group was sitting on the floor and everyone was quietly going about their business some eating, some resting, others just staring off into space, lost in thought. You were seated with your arms crossed, trying to focus on the situation at hand, but your annoyance with Young-il was bubbling just beneath the surface.

It started small, like it always did. Young-il, who had been leaning against a wall, made an offhanded comment about the group’s decision-making.

“Maybe if we stopped wasting time arguing about every little thing, we’d actually get somewhere,” he said, his tone sharp.

You didn’t even look at him at first, but the irritation was immediate. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” you shot back, your voice laced with sarcasm. “The guy who spent the first game hiding like a coward suddenly has opinions about how we should do things.”

Young-il straightened up, his eyes narrowing as he turned to face you. “You’re still hung up on that?” he asked, his tone dripping with disbelief. “How many times do I have to say it? I’m still here, aren’t I? Unlike some of the people who didn’t make it.”

Your head snapped toward him now, glaring. “Don’t you dare talk about them like that,” you said, your voice low and dangerous. “They fought to survive. They didn’t hide in the shadows and hope someone else would do the dirty work for them.”

“And look where that got them,” Young-il snapped, his voice rising. “Dead. You act like you’re some kind of hero because you played along with their little games, but all it did was get people killed. I did what I had to do to survive. You can hate me all you want for it, but at least I’m still breathing.”

By now, the rest of the group had gone silent, their eyes darting nervously between the two of you. Gi-hun sighed heavily, already regretting that he hadn’t stepped in sooner.

“Okay, can we not do this again?” he said, raising his hands in a weak attempt to mediate. “We’re all tired, and this isn’t helping.”

But you weren’t listening. You stood up now, pointing a finger at Young-il as you stepped closer. “You don’t get to lecture me about survival,” you said, your voice rising with every word. “You’ve done nothing but leech off this group since you showed up. You don’t contribute, you don’t help, and the second things get tough, you’ll probably run and hide again.”

Young-il took a step toward you, his jaw clenched and his eyes blazing. “You think you’re better than me?” he shot back. “Because you bark orders and act like you’re in charge? Newsflash: no one here made you the leader. You’re just as scared as the rest of us, but instead of admitting it, you take it out on everyone else.”

“Scared?” you repeated, your voice practically a shout now. “I’m not scared I’m angry! Angry that someone like you has the nerve to act like you belong here when you’ve done nothing to earn it!”

Dae-ho, who had been sitting quietly, finally stood up, placing himself between you and Young-il. “All right, that’s enough,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the heated exchange. “This isn’t going anywhere. You’re both just yelling for the sake of yelling.”

Young-il ignored him, his focus still on you. “You want to talk about earning things?” he said, his voice lower now but no less intense. “How about you start by earning some respect? You don’t know anything about me, but you’ve been running your mouth since the second we met. Maybe if you spent less time pointing fingers, you’d actually see that I’m trying to help.”

“Help?” you scoffed, stepping around Dae-ho to get closer to him. “You call criticizing everything we do and refusing to pull your weight ‘help’? You’re nothing but dead weight, old man. And we’d be better off without you.”

Young-il’s expression hardened, his fists clenching at his sides. “Say that again,” he said, his voice dangerously calm.

“I said, we’d be better off without—”

“Enough!” Jun-hee’s voice cut through the chaos like a whip. She stood now, her small frame trembling slightly as she glared at both of you. “This is insane. We’re supposed to be working together, and all you two do is fight. If you hate each other so much, fine, but save it for when we’re out of here. Because right now, you’re putting all of us in danger.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, no one said anything. You and Young-il were still glaring at each other, but Jun-hee’s outburst had at least forced a pause.

Gi-hun sighed again, running a hand through his hair. “She’s right,” he said wearily. “We don’t have time for this. Save your grudges for later, or we’re all going to end up dead.”

You took a step back, your breathing still heavy, but you didn’t say anything else. Young-il relaxed slightly too, though his eyes were still locked on yours.

“This isn’t over,” you muttered, turning away and sitting back down.

“Not by a long shot,” Young-il replied, his voice cold.

The group remained tense after that, the silence almost suffocating. And even though the fight had ended for now, everyone knew it was only a matter of time before it flared up again.

After the chaos of the Mingle game, your group had grown. More players had joined, desperate for the safety of numbers, and while it was a relief to have more hands, the weight of the competition hung heavy over everyone’s heads. Trust was still a rare commodity, and tensions simmered just beneath the surface.

You and Jung-bae sat off to the side, away from the main group. The others were busy eating, tending to injuries, or silently staring into the distance, too drained to speak. The two of you had started talking quietly, reflecting on how brutal things had become, when Jung-bae suddenly grew quiet.

You noticed the shift immediately. His usual composed expression faltered, replaced by a troubled look. He rubbed his hands together, glancing over at Young-il, who was sitting on the far side of the group, talking to Gi-hun.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, leaning closer.

Jung-bae hesitated, his eyes flickering back to you. “There’s… something you should know,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You raised an eyebrow. “About what?”

“About Young-il,” he said, his tone heavy. “Something I saw during the last game.”

Your body tensed at the mention of Young-il. After everything that had happened, you were already wary of him, but hearing Jung-bae bring him up with such a serious expression made your stomach knot. “Go on,” you urged.

Jung-bae took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair as he tried to collect his thoughts. “During the Mingle game,” he began, “when it got down to only two players in each room, it was me and Young-il. We managed to find a room just before time ran out.”

You nodded, motioning for him to continue.

“When we got inside, we saw another player already in there,” Jung-bae said, his voice dropping even lower. “Young-il told him to leave, said the room was ours now. But the player refused. He was desperate, just like the rest of us.”

Your brow furrowed as you listened, a sinking feeling settling in your chest.

“I didn’t think much of it at first,” Jung-bae continued, his expression darkening. “I shut the door quickly before any other players could get in. I figured we’d deal with the guy once we were safe, maybe try to reason with him or something. I turned my back to them for just a second… maybe less.”

He paused, swallowing hard. “Then I heard it a noise, like a sharp crack. When I turned around…” He trailed off, his eyes distant as if he was replaying the moment in his mind.

“What did you see?” you asked, though you already had a horrible feeling about what he was going to say.

Jung-bae looked at you, his voice shaking slightly. “I saw Young-il snapping that player’s neck.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You stared at him, waiting for him to laugh, to say it was a bad joke, but his face was deadly serious.

“What?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“I froze,” Jung-bae admitted, his hands trembling slightly. “I didn’t know what to do. One second, the guy was alive, arguing with Young-il, and the next… he was just gone. Young-il didn’t even hesitate. He just… did it. Like it was nothing.”

You felt a cold chill run down your spine as you processed what Jung-bae was telling you. You glanced over at Young-il, who was still sitting with the others, laughing about something like nothing had happened.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you asked, your voice tight.

“What was I supposed to say?” Jung-bae shot back, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with frustration. “If I called him out, he could’ve turned on me next. And if I told anyone, how do you think they’d react? Everyone’s already on edge. You think they’d believe me, or worse, you think they’d just kill him outright and start turning on each other?”

You clenched your fists, your mind racing. “So what, we just let him get away with it? Pretend like nothing happened?”

Jung-bae sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I thought you should know. You and Gi-hun are the only people here that I trust to do something about it.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding. Young-il had always rubbed you the wrong way, but this… this was something else entirely. You didn’t know whether to confront him, tell the group, or keep quiet and wait for the right moment.

“Thanks for telling me,” you said finally, your voice grim.

Jung-bae nodded, though he still looked uneasy. “Just… be careful,” he warned. “If he could do that to a stranger, who knows what he’d do to us if he felt cornered.”

You didn’t respond, your eyes fixed on Young-il as a sense of dread settled over you. Whatever trust or tolerance you’d managed to muster for him was gone. And now, more than ever, you knew he was a threat that couldn’t be ignored.

The group had gathered in a loose circle, with Gi-hun standing in the center, talking to a few players who had managed to survive the chaos of the Mingle game. Hyun-ju, Geum-ja, Gyeong-seok, Yong-sik, Myung-gi, and Min-su were all listening attentively as Gi-hun explained the group’s dynamics, how decisions were made, and the importance of sticking together.

You were seated off to the side, leaning against a wall, watching the scene unfold. It wasn’t often that Gi-hun took the lead like this, and you had to admit, he was doing a decent job of it. The players looked nervous but seemed reassured by his calm demeanor.

The moment was interrupted, however, when Young-il wandered over, his presence as unwelcome to you as ever. He strode into the circle without hesitation, his hands in his pockets, and looked around with a vaguely annoyed expression.

“What’s going on here?” he asked, his tone carrying that same irritating mix of mockery and authority that always grated on your nerves.

Before anyone else could respond, you rolled your eyes and sat up straighter. “Are you too blind to see, old man?” you said sharply, your voice cutting through the group like a whip.

Young-il turned to you, raising an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” he said, his tone challenging.

You ignored his feigned innocence, gesturing toward Gi-hun and the others. “Can you not see what’s happening? Or is your eyesight finally giving out on you?” you snapped. “Gi-hun is talking to them explaining things to the people who are about to join our group. Not that it’s any of your business.”

A few of the players exchanged uneasy glances, clearly unsure of how to react to the tension between you and Young-il. Gi-hun sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can we not start this right now?” he said, looking at you with a mix of exasperation and pleading.

“I’m not starting anything,” you said defensively, though your tone was still sharp. “I’m just pointing out the obvious. If Young-il had half a brain, he wouldn’t need to interrupt to figure out what’s going on.”

Young-il smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, I see what’s going on,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re adding more people to the group. obviously more people to slow us down.”

The players bristled at his words, their faces falling as uncertainty crept in. Gi-hun frowned, stepping forward to address them. “Don’t listen to him,” he said firmly. “This group is about survival, and survival means sticking together. The more of us there are, the better chance we have of making it through this.”

“You really think that?” Young-il scoffed. “The more people we have, the more targets we become. And when things get tough, who’s going to take the fall? The players. They’re dead weight, and you know it.”

Your patience snapped. You stood up, glaring at Young-il with barely restrained anger. “Why don’t you just keep your opinions to yourself for once?” you said, your voice low but deadly. “These people are just as desperate to survive as the rest of us. They deserve a chance, and if you don’t like it, you’re free to leave.”

Young-il chuckled dryly, shaking his head. “Oh, I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “I’ve made it this far, and I’m not about to throw it all away because you want to play babysitter.”

Gi-hun held up a hand, stepping between the two of you before the argument could escalate further. “Enough,” he said firmly, looking at both of you in turn. “We’re not doing this here. If you’ve got a problem with the group, Young-il, then take it up with me later. Right now, we’re focusing on keeping everyone alive, and that includes these new players. Got it?”

Young-il narrowed his eyes but didn’t argue further. He turned and walked away, muttering something under his breath that you couldn’t quite catch.

You let out a frustrated sigh, sitting back down and crossing your arms. Gi-hun gave you a look, part scolding, part understanding. “You didn’t have to go that hard on him,” he said quietly.

“Someone has to,” you muttered. “I’m not letting him scare these people off before they even get a chance.”

The players looked at you with a mix of gratitude and nervousness. Geum-ja, the boldest among them, stepped forward and gave you a small nod. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

You nodded back, though your eyes lingered on Young-il’s retreating figure. The tension in the group was getting worse, and you had a sinking feeling that things were only going to get harder from here.

The group sat in a loose circle around a small, makeshift campfire. The air was heavy with tension, the kind that had been brewing ever since Young-il joined the group. Everyone was still on edge after the Mingle game and the influx of players, and the constant bickering between you and Young-il had only made things worse.

Gi-hun, ever the reluctant leader, rubbed the back of his neck as he looked around at everyone. He had been trying to keep the group together, trying to keep the peace, but even he was starting to show signs of strain. Finally, he let out a long sigh, breaking the silence.

“All right, let’s just address the elephant in the room,” Gi-hun said, his voice firm but calm as he glanced between you and Young-il. “As you guys are all painfully aware by now, Y/N and Young-il don’t get along.”

A few of the players exchanged glances, while others shifted uncomfortably. Hyun-ju, who had been quietly sitting near the edge of the group, raised her eyebrows but said nothing. Geum-ja crossed her arms, her expression cautious, while Jung-bae looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but here.

You rolled your eyes, leaning back against a crate. “Oh, come on, Gi-hun,” you said, your tone sharp. “That’s putting it mildly. I can’t stand him, and for good reason.”

Young-il, who was seated across from you with his usual air of indifference, let out a low chuckle. “The feeling’s mutual,” he said, smirking. “But at least I don’t make it my life’s mission to announce it every five minutes.”

Your eyes narrowed, and you sat forward, ready to fire back, but Gi-hun held up his hand to stop you. “Enough,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the tension. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. The two of you are constantly at each other’s throats, and it’s making things harder for everyone else.”

Geum-ja cleared her throat, speaking up hesitantly. “It’s… definitely been a little uncomfortable,” she admitted. “I mean, we just got here, and it feels like we walked into the middle of a war.”

“Uncomfortable?” Yong-sik muttered under his breath, earning a glare from Geum-ja.

“Look,” Gi-hun continued, ignoring the side chatter. “I get that this situation is stressful. It’s stressful for all of us. But we’re not going to survive if we’re constantly fighting each other. We need to be united, and that means figuring out how to work together, even if you don’t like each other.”

You crossed your arms, your jaw tightening. “I don’t trust him,” you said bluntly, pointing at Young-il. “He’s a liability. And if we’re going to talk about things that are making it harder for everyone else, maybe we should start with him.”

Young-il’s smirk faded, and his expression hardened. “A liability?” he repeated, his voice low. “That’s funny coming from someone who spends more time complaining than actually contributing.”

“I contribute just fine,” you shot back. “The difference is, I don’t leave people to die or—”

“Enough!” Gi-hun snapped, his voice louder now, silencing both of you. Everyone went still, the weight of his frustration hanging in the air.

“I didn’t bring this up so you two could start another fight,” Gi-hun said, his tone heavy with disappointment. “I brought it up because we’re running out of time. The games are only going to get harder, and if we keep tearing each other apart, we’re going to lose. All of us.”

Jun-hee, who had been quiet until now, spoke up softly. “He’s right,” she said, looking at you and Young-il in turn. “We don’t have to like each other, but we do have to survive. And the only way to do that is if we stick together.”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. You avoided looking at Young-il, your fists clenched in your lap, while he sat back with an expression that was unreadable.

Finally, Gi-hun sighed again, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not asking you two to be best friends,” he said. “I’m asking you to set this aside for now, at least. For the sake of everyone else.”

You hesitated, glancing at Jung-bae, who gave you a small, encouraging nod. Taking a deep breath, you finally muttered, “Fine. But don’t expect me to trust him.”

Young-il shrugged, his tone casual but with an edge of sarcasm. “Trust me, the feeling’s mutual.”

Gi-hun looked between the two of you, his expression weary but relieved. “That’s a start,” he said. “Let’s just hope it’s enough.”

The group slowly began to relax, the tension easing slightly, but the unease lingered. You knew this truce was fragile at best, and with each passing game, the cracks in the group were only going to grow deeper.

The boat rocked gently on the waves as it cut through the dark waters, the group seated in tense silence as they made their way toward their dangerous destination. The air was cool, carrying the faint smell of salt and seaweed, and the sound of the motor hummed in the background. The moonlight reflected off the water, casting an eerie glow over the scene.

Jun-ho, Woo-seok, Y/S/N, Captain Park, and two others sat scattered across the deck, each lost in their thoughts. The mission they had undertaken was dangerous, perhaps suicidal, but for everyone on board, it was worth the risk.

Woo-seok glanced at Y/S/N, who was sitting near the edge of the boat, staring out at the open sea. After a moment, he cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Hey,” he said, his voice carrying over the hum of the motor. “I just wanted to say… I appreciate that you accepted our offer to help us find the island. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, especially with… well, trying to find your sister and all.”

she turned to him, offering a faint but sincere smile. “Yeah, it’s been years,” she said, her voice soft, tinged with a quiet determination. “But I haven’t lost hope. Not yet.”

Jun-ho, who had been leaning against the side of the boat, straightened up slightly at the mention of a missing sister. His sharp eyes studied her or a moment before he spoke. “You have a sister that you lost?” he asked, his tone calm but curious.

she hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Yeah,” she said, her gaze dropping to her hands. “Actually, I’m a twin. She’s my other half. It’s been years since she went missing, but… part of me thinks she’s still alive.”

The group fell silent, the weight of her words settling over them like a heavy blanket. Even the sound of the motor seemed to fade into the background as everyone absorbed the revelation.

Jun-ho tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “A twin,” he repeated, as if the concept carried a special significance to him. “ I understand the feeling of Losing someone so close to you.”

she nodded, her jaw tightening as she stared out at the waves. “It is,” she admitted. “Sometimes it feels like a piece of me is missing. But at the same time, I can’t shake the feeling that she’s out there somewhere, waiting for me to find her.”

Captain Park, who had been silent until now, let out a thoughtful hum. “That kind of bond,” he said, his gruff voice cutting through the silence, “it’s not something that just goes away. If you feel like she’s alive, maybe there’s a reason for that.”

she looked at him, her expression softening. “I hope so,” she said quietly. “I don’t know what I’ll find when I get to the end of this, but I have to try. I can’t give up on her.”

Woo-seok nodded, his usual bravado replaced by a rare moment of sincerity. “Well, if anyone can do it, it’s you,” he said. “You’ve already made it this far. That’s more than most people could handle.”

Jun-ho leaned back against the side of the boat, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processed the conversation. “You’re stronger than most,” he said finally, his tone neutral but with a hint of respect. “But be careful. Hope is a double-edged sword. It can drive you forward, but it can also destroy you if you’re not careful.”

She met his gaze, her eyes steady. “I know,” she said. “But I’d rather hold onto hope than give in to despair. If there’s even the slightest chance that she’s alive, I’ll do whatever it takes to find her.”

Jun-ho studied her for a moment longer before nodding, seemingly satisfied with her resolve. The boat fell silent again, the conversation leaving a lingering sense of gravity among the group.

As the waves lapped against the sides of the boat and the island loomed somewhere in the distance, each person found themselves lost in their own thoughts. But for her, one thought remained clear: no matter what lay ahead, she would never stop searching for you.

The eerie melody echoed softly through the dimly lit dormitory, casting an unsettling calm over the room. Most of the players were fast asleep, sprawled across their bunks, exhausted from the day’s chaos. The faint hum of the music blended with the sound of slow, rhythmic breathing, masking the quiet rustle of footsteps.

You carefully slipped out of your bunk, glancing around to ensure no one was watching. The dim light from the surveillance cameras hung heavy over the room, but you’d memorized their blind spots by now. Moving swiftly, you navigated your way to the bathroom, the door creaking faintly as you pushed it open and slipped inside.

Once there, you leaned against the cool tile wall, taking a deep breath. The silence in the bathroom was a stark contrast to the noise of the dormitory, and for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to relax.

Minutes later, the door creaked again, and you immediately tensed, preparing for an intrusion. But when you turned to look, your guard dropped as a familiar figure stepped inside. Young-il moved with practiced ease, his sharp eyes scanning the space before settling on you.

“You’re doing well, jagiya,” he murmured, his voice low and almost teasing. “Playing your part like a professional.”

You smirked, your expression equal parts smug and amused. “Of course I am,” you replied, crossing your arms as you leaned back against the wall. “Everyone thinks we hate each other. They think we’re just players like the rest of them, desperate to survive.”

Young-il chuckled, stepping closer to you. His usual air of arrogance seemed softer here, more intimate, as if the walls around him only came down in these stolen moments. “And in reality,” he said, his tone quiet but charged, “we’re married. Partners in every sense of the word. They don’t know who we really are.”

A sly smile spread across your face as you tilted your head, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And they don’t know that you’re the Front Man,” you said, emphasizing the title, “or, as Gi-hun so dramatically calls you, ‘the leader of the mask.’ And me?” You shrugged lightly, your smirk widening. “I’m the loving wife, hidden in plain sight.”

Young-il’s eyes gleamed with a mixture of pride and affection as he reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You’ve always been good at this,” he said softly. “Better than anyone else. No one even suspects that you’re working with me, let alone who you really are.”

You laughed quietly, the sound low and bitter. “They’re too busy fighting amongst themselves,” you said. “All it takes is a little tension, a few carefully placed words, and they’re ready to rip each other apart. It’s almost too easy.”

Young-il nodded, his expression growing serious. “But don’t get too comfortable,” he warned. “The games are only going to get harder from here. And we can’t afford any mistakes.”

You rolled your eyes, though your smirk didn’t falter. “I know,” you said. “But don’t forget I’m the one keeping them distracted while you run the show behind the scenes. If anyone’s going to slip up, it won’t be me.”

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, the weight of your shared secret hanging in the air. Despite the danger, despite the lies, there was an undeniable connection between you, a bond forged in the fire of shared ambition and unshakable trust.

Young-il reached for your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. “Just remember,” he said, his voice low and steady, “no matter what happens, we’re in this together.”

You squeezed his hand, your gaze meeting his. “Always,” you said.

The moment was brief but electric, a stolen flicker of truth in a sea of deception. And then, as quickly as it began, it was over. Young-il released your hand and stepped back, his expression hardening as he slipped back into his role.

“I’ll go first,” he said, glancing toward the door. “Wait a few minutes before you head back.”

You nodded, watching as he disappeared into the shadows, his footsteps silent against the tile. Once he was gone, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself before stepping back into the world of lies you had so carefully crafted.

As you made your way back to your bunk, the music continued to play, its haunting melody a fitting backdrop to the dangerous game you were playing. No one in the dormitory stirred as you climbed into bed, your face a mask of calm as you prepared for whatever the next day would bring. The truth remained hidden, and the game went on.

The next morning, the dormitory was alive with the sound of shuffling footsteps and low murmurs as players begrudgingly pulled themselves from their bunks. The tension from the previous day lingered in the air, unspoken but palpable, as everyone moved through their morning routine with quiet efficiency.

Breakfast was a simple, tasteless affair some sort of watery porridge ladled into bowls, accompanied by stale bread. The players sat scattered across the large dining area, eating in relative silence, the weight of the games making small talk feel almost impossible.

You sat with your group, slowly poking at your food with your spoon. The others chatted quietly, trying to keep their spirits up despite the grim atmosphere, but you remained quiet, lost in your own thoughts.

That was, until you noticed movement out of the corner of your eye.

From across the room, you saw Young-il approaching with his tray, his expression as cool and unreadable as ever. He didn’t bother asking if the seat next to you was free he simply placed his tray down and sat, his presence as commanding as always.

You didn’t bother hiding your irritation. Letting out a dramatic sigh, you rolled your eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck. “Seriously?” you muttered, not even looking at him as you shoved your spoon into the mushy porridge. “Of all the places you could sit, you chose here?”

Young-il smirked, clearly unfazed by your tone. “Good morning to you too,” he said smoothly, picking up his spoon and taking a deliberate bite of his food. “You know, for someone who claims to hate me, you sure spend a lot of time noticing where I sit.”

Your eyes snapped to his, narrowing in annoyance. “Noticing?” you shot back. “You’re impossible to miss, old man. You loom like a shadow, always showing up where you’re not wanted.”

A couple of the other players sitting by Gi-hun and Jung-bae, in particular exchanged uneasy glances, clearly bracing themselves for another round of bickering.

Jung-bae leaned over slightly, trying to diffuse the tension with a forced chuckle. “Uh, maybe we could focus on eating instead of, you know, arguing?” he suggested hesitantly.

Young-il ignored him, his smirk widening as he leaned back in his seat. “It’s funny,” he said, his tone almost teasing. “You say you don’t want me around, but here I am, sitting right next to you. Almost as if… you enjoy my company.”

You scoffed, turning your attention back to your food with a look of pure disgust. “Keep telling yourself that,” you muttered. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Hyun-ju, who was seated across from you, tried to suppress a giggle but failed, her laugh coming out as a soft snort. “You two are like oil and water,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t know how you haven’t torn each other apart yet.”

“Give it time,” you muttered, stabbing your spoon into your porridge with more force than necessary.

Young-il, ever the picture of calm, leaned forward slightly, his smirk still firmly in place. “Oh, I think we’ve found a good balance,” he said, his voice dripping with mock sincerity. “After all, every group needs a little… tension to keep things interesting.”

You glared at him, opening your mouth to retort, but Gi-hun quickly held up his hand, cutting you off. “Okay, that’s enough,” he said firmly, looking between the two of you. “Can we please just get through one meal without the two of you going at it? We’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

You huffed, leaning back in your seat and crossing your arms. “Fine,” you muttered, though your eyes still flicked toward Young-il with a look of disdain.

Young-il, for his part, simply chuckled and went back to his food, his calm demeanor only fueling your irritation.

As the group settled into an uneasy silence, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at him out of the corner of your eye. For all his arrogance and infuriating smugness, there was something about the way he carried himself. calm, unshaken, and always two steps ahead. that made it impossible to completely ignore him.

The rest of the meal passed in strained silence, the tension between you and Young-il hanging heavy in the air. But for the other players in their group, it was just another morning in the dormitory. another day of trying to survive the games.

The din of conversation filled the room as the players sat scattered in small groups, their voices rising and falling in a chaotic symphony. Everyone was busy strategizing, bonding, or simply trying to make sense of their grim reality. The tension from the impending rebellion hung heavy in the air, but it seemed to energize the group rather than dampen their spirits.

Amidst the noise and chatter, no one noticed the quiet exchange happening between you and Young-il in a corner of the room. Leaning in slightly, you kept your voice low, your tone sharp and calculated as you spoke.

“Jung-bae told me what you did to that player during the Mingle game,” you began, your words laced with accusation and urgency. “Snapping his neck like that. He’s already starting to put pieces together, and if he decides to run his mouth to Gi-hun especially during the rebellion they’ll all turn on you.”

Young-il leaned back slightly, his expression calm, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of annoyance. “He won’t,” he said, his voice measured. “Jung-bae knows better than to cross me.”

You shook your head, your lips curling into a smirk. “Don��t underestimate him,” you warned. “He’s already suspicious, and once the rebellion kicks off, he’ll have the perfect opportunity to expose you. If I were you, I’d take care of him before he gets the chance.”

Young-il raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. “Take care of him?” he echoed, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “And what do you suggest, jagiya? Should I just walk up to him and slit his throat in front of everyone?”

You rolled your eyes, your smirk widening. “Don’t be stupid,” you said. “You’re not going to do it as yourself. You’ll do it as the Front Man. Once everything goes down, you’ll have the perfect cover.”

Leaning closer, you spoke in a hushed tone, outlining your plan with ruthless precision. “Here’s what you’re going to do. When the rebellion starts, Gi-hun is going to split everyone into smaller groups, right? Jung-bae and Gi-hun will take the lead in one group while you’re left with two other players and tasked with taking out some of the soldiers.”

Young-il’s eyes narrowed slightly as he listened, his mind already working through the logistics of your suggestion.

“You’re going to kill those two players,” you continued, your voice cold and unrelenting. “Make it look like an accident or pin it on the soldiers doesn’t matter how you do it, just make sure they’re out of the way. Once that’s done, you’ll switch into your stulk and mask. No one will know it’s you.”

You paused for a moment, letting your words sink in before delivering the final piece of your plan. “When everything is under control and the chaos dies down, you’ll track down Jung-bae. He’ll probably be with Gi-hun. Once you do take him out, and make it clean.”

Young-il studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he leaned forward, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’ve thought this through,” he said, his voice low and amused. “Almost like you’ve been planning this for a while.”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I’m just looking out for us,” you said. “Jung-bae’s a liability, and liabilities have no place in this game. Besides, once he’s gone, Gi-hun will be too heartbroken and stop the rebellion.”

Young-il chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re ruthless, you know that?” he said, his tone tinged with admiration.

You smirked, your eyes gleaming with cold determination. “Ruthless keeps us alive,” you replied. “And if you want to stay alive, you’ll do exactly what I’ve told you.”

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the hum of conversation around you masking the weight of your words. Finally, Young-il nodded, a hint of resolve flashing in his eyes.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll handle it.”

“Good,” you said, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. “Now, act normal. The last thing we need is anyone noticing we’re talking.”

Young-il smirked, his usual air of confidence returning as he leaned back and picked at his food. To anyone watching, it would seem like the two of you had simply exchanged a few words before going back to your meal.

But beneath the surface, the wheels were already in motion. As the rebellion loomed closer, so too did the shadows of betrayal and bloodshed. And in this game, only the ruthless would survive.

Later that day, the tension in the dormitory had eased slightly, and small groups of players were scattered around, talking in hushed tones or making plans for the Special Game. In one corner, Young-il sat with Gi-hun, Jung-bae, and a few of the others, his usually stoic expression marred by a rare look of irritation.

He leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed, and let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t understand how any of you can deal with her,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration. “She’s insufferable. Every time I so much as breathe in her direction, she’s rolling her eyes or making some snide comment.”

Gi-hun raised an eyebrow, glancing up from where he was sharpening a makeshift weapon. “You’re talking about Y/N, aren’t you?” he asked, his tone a mix of amusement and exasperation.

“Of course I’m talking about her,” Young-il snapped, his voice rising slightly before he forced himself to calm down. “Who else could make someone this irritated? She’s constantly on my case, acting like she owns the place.”

Jung-bae chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, to be fair, you don’t exactly make it easy,” he said. “You always manage to get under her skin. It’s like you’re trying to start a fight every time you two are in the same room.”

Young-il scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “I don’t try to start anything,” he insisted. “She just has a problem with me, and she doesn’t bother hiding it. The way she talks to me like I’m some kind of nuisance it’s infuriating.”

Gi-hun smirked, exchanging a knowing glance with Jung-bae. “You know,” he said, his tone teasing, “the way you’re going on about her, it almost sounds like you care what she thinks.”

Young-il shot him a sharp look, his expression darkening. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said firmly. “I couldn’t care less what she thinks of me. I’m just saying it’s exhausting dealing with someone who seems to hate me for no reason.”

Dae-ho who had been quietly listening, finally spoke up, his voice calm but laced with curiosity. “You sure it’s no reason?” he asked. “Maybe there’s more to it than you realize.”

Young-il frowned, his jaw tightening. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, his tone defensive.

Dae-ho hrugged, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Sometimes people lash out because they’re hiding something,” he said. “Maybe she’s got her own reasons for acting the way she does. You ever think about that?”

Young-il opened his mouth to reply but stopped himself, his expression shifting into one of contemplation. For a brief moment, a flicker of doubt crossed his face, but he quickly shook it off, scowling. “Whatever her reasons are, they don’t justify her behavior,” he said firmly. “She’s rude, she’s disrespectful, and she’s impossible to work with.”

Gi-hun chuckled, shaking his head as he set his weapon aside. “You sound like an old married couple,” he said, grinning.

Young-il groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t even joke about that,” he said. “The thought alone is enough to make my blood boil.”

The group laughed, their voices echoing through the room, but Young-il’s irritation lingered. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he glanced toward where you were sitting with Hyun-ju and Min-su on the other side of the dormitory. You were laughing at something Min-su had said, completely oblivious to the conversation happening about you.

“I just don’t get it,” Young-il muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “What’s her problem with me?”

Gi-hun patted him on the shoulder, his grin widening. “Who knows?” he said. “Maybe one day you’ll figure it out. Until then, you’re just going to have to deal with it like the rest of us.”

Young-il let out another sigh, leaning back against the wall as the group returned to their conversation. But even as the laughter and chatter continued around him, his gaze lingered on you, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

The quiet hum of the boat's engine filled the air as your twin sat on the deck, staring out at the endless stretch of water. The faint scent of salt hung in the breeze, but the atmosphere was heavy with unspoken thoughts and shared determination. Jun-ho approached, holding a cup of water, and settled into a seat beside your twin.

For a while, they sat in silence, watching the waves ripple and crash against the boat. Finally, Jun-ho broke the quiet, his voice calm but tinged with curiosity. “It seems to me,” he began, “that you and I have something in common.”

She turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

Jun-ho offered a small smile, though there was a trace of sadness in his eyes. “I also have a lost sibling,” he said softly. “Except… it’s my brother.”

Her expression shifted, a mixture of surprise and understanding crossing her face. “Your brother?” She echoed.

Jun-ho nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Yeah. It’s been years since I last saw him. He disappeared without a trace, and I’ve been searching ever since. Sometimes it feels like I’m chasing a ghost, but… I can’t bring myself to stop. Not until I know the truth.”

She leaned back slightly, her arms resting on the edge of the boat as she studied him. “I get that,” she said quietly. “When someone you care about vanishes, it’s like a part of you goes missing too. You can’t move on because there’s always that question. what if? What if they’re out there, waiting for you? What if you’re the only one who can find them?”

Jun-ho nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Exactly,” he said. “Sometimes people tell me to let it go, that it’s been too long, but… I can’t. He’s my brother. If there’s even the smallest chance he’s still alive, I have to keep looking.”

She glanced down at her hands, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of the wooden deck. “I feel the same way about my sister,” she admitted. “We’re twins, so it’s even harder. It’s like… a piece of me has been missing all this time. No matter how much I try to focus on other things, there’s always this emptiness. This feeling that she’s out there somewhere, and she needs me.”

Jun-ho looked at her, his expression softening. “That must be hard,” he said. “Being a twin means you share a bond that most people can’t even begin to understand. Losing that… it must feel like losing a part of yourself.”

She nodded, her jaw tightening as she fought to keep her emotions in check. “It does,”she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes I wonder if she even remembers me. If she’s alive, if she’s safe, if she’s happy… I’d give anything to know the answers.”

Jun-ho placed a hand on her shoulder, his grip firm but comforting. “I know exactly how you feel,” he said. “And I know how hard it is to keep hoping when it feels like the whole world is against you. But you’re not alone in this. We’re going to find that island, and maybe just maybe we’ll find some answers along the way. For both of us.”

She looked at him, her expression softening as a flicker of gratitude appeared in their eyes. “Thanks,” she said. “It helps, knowing someone else understands.”

Jun-ho offered a small smile, his hand falling back to his side as he leaned against the railing. “We’ll find them,” he said with quiet determination. “Your sister, my brother… we’ll figure it out. One way or another.”

For a moment, the two of them sat in silence again, the weight of their shared loss hanging between them. But amidst the sorrow, there was also a sense of quiet resolve a determination to keep going, no matter how impossible the odds seemed.

As the boat continued to cut through the water, she glanced at Jun-ho, their expression thoughtful. “You know,” she said, “for someone I just met, you’re pretty easy to talk to.”

Jun-ho chuckled, the sound light but genuine. “Likewise,” he said. “Maybe it’s because we’ve both been through the same kind of pain. Makes it easier to understand each other.”

She smiled faintly, her gaze returning to the horizon. “Maybe,”she said. “But either way… thanks.”

Jun-ho nodded, his own gaze following hers. “Anytime,” he said simply.

And with that, the two of them fell into a companionable silence, the sound of the waves filling the air as the boat carried them closer to the answers they both so desperately sought.

The dim light of the dormitory flickered faintly as the night wore on, the murmur of conversation dwindling as exhaustion began to settle over the players. You glanced around, noting how most of them were either dozing off or too preoccupied to notice you slipping away. Smoothing down your expression to hide any suspicion, you stood up casually and muttered something about needing the bathroom.

No one paid you much attention as you made your way towards the door, your footsteps quiet against the cold floor. Once inside the bathroom, you took a deep breath, the air thick with the faint scent of bleach. You leaned against the sink for a moment, your reflection staring back at you in the cracked mirror.

Moments later, the faint creak of the bathroom door opening made you straighten up, your muscles instinctively tensing. Before you could turn around, a familiar hand grasped your wrist, pulling you away from the sink and back against a solid chest.

“Couldn’t wait, could you?” Young-il’s voice was low and teasing, his breath warm against your ear.

You smirked, your pulse quickening as you glanced up at him. “Took you long enough,” you replied, your tone dripping with playful sarcasm. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

He chuckled softly, his other hand coming to rest on your waist as he leaned in closer. “You should know by now I’m not one to leave you waiting.”

Before you could retort, his lips crashed against yours, his kiss urgent and possessive. Your back hit the cool tiles of the wall as he deepened the kiss, his hands sliding around your waist to pull you closer. The world outside the bathroom faded away, the tension and chaos of the games momentarily forgotten as you lost yourself in the moment.

Your hands found their way to his shirt, clutching the fabric as if anchoring yourself. There was something electric about the way his lips moved against yours, a mix of frustration, passion, and unspoken promises in every movement. It was a stark contrast to the way you had to act around each other in front of the others hostile, distant, like sworn enemies.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing heavy but steady. “You’re playing your part really well,” he murmured, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Making them think that we’re at each other’s throats.”

You tilted your head, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “That’s because we are,” you said lightly, though your fingers still lingered on his chest. “At least, that’s what they think.”

He chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Let them think that,” he said. “It keeps them off our trail. No one suspects a thing.”

You nodded, your expression growing more serious. “Good. Because if they did, everything we’ve worked for would fall apart. You’ve got your role to play, and so do I. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

Young-il’s smile softened, and he pressed a brief kiss to your forehead. “No mistakes,” he agreed. “We’ve come too far for that.”

The two of you stood there for a moment longer, the quiet of the bathroom offering a rare sense of intimacy amidst the chaos. But all too soon, the weight of reality began to press down on you again. You straightened up, smoothing down your clothes as you stepped away from him.

“We should go back before anyone notices,” you said, your voice steady but laced with reluctance.

He nodded, his usual stoic expression slipping back into place as he adjusted his shirt. “You first,” he said, gesturing toward the door. “I’ll follow in a few minutes.”

You smirked, giving him a playful glance over your shoulder as you opened the door. “Don’t take too long, old man,” you teased before slipping out into the hallway.

As you walked back to the dormitory, your heart still racing, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. No one would ever suspect the truth. that the constant bickering and hostility between you and Young-il was nothing more than a carefully crafted façade.

And as you took your seat among the other players, acting as if nothing had happened, you felt a strange sense of satisfaction. In this deadly game where alliances shifted like sand, the bond you shared with Young-il was your greatest secret and your greatest weapon.

The tension in the dormitory was palpable as Gi-hun gathered the group to discuss the rebellion. The players sat in a loose circle, their faces marked with a mixture of hope and apprehension. The dim, flickering light cast long shadows on the walls, adding to the somber atmosphere.

Gi-hun stood in the center, his arms crossed as he addressed the group. “Alright,” he began, his voice firm but calm, “we’ve all agreed that we can’t keep playing their twisted games. If we don’t take a stand now, we might never get another chance. So, we need a solid plan for the rebellion.”

The group murmured in agreement, nodding along as Gi-hun laid out the basics of his idea. He spoke about timing, positioning, and how they’d need to use the chaos of the next game to their advantage. Everyone listened intently, some adding their own thoughts or suggestions.

Then, as Gi-hun paused to let the group absorb the information, Young-il, who had been leaning casually against the wall, cleared his throat. “I’ve got a suggestion,” he said, pushing off the wall and stepping into the circle.

You raised an eyebrow, already bracing yourself for whatever nonsense he was about to say.

Young-il crossed his arms, his tone calm but confident. “Instead of focusing on spreading ourselves thin across the dormitory or the arena, we could just use brute force. If we overpower a few guards early on, we could take their weapons and use them to control the situation. It’s straightforward and doesn’t require much coordination.”

For a moment, the group was silent, processing his words. Then you let out a scoff, your arms crossing over your chest as you fixed him with a sharp glare. “That’s… that’s a dumb plan,” you said bluntly, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “Just like you.”

A few chuckles rippled through the group, but Young-il didn’t flinch, his jaw tightening as he looked at you.

“I’m serious,” he replied, his voice steady but laced with irritation. “It could work if we all commit to it.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically, leaning back on your hands. “Oh, sure,” you said, your voice dripping with mock enthusiasm. “Let’s all risk everything on your ‘brute force’ strategy and hope the guards just magically hand over their weapons. Brilliant idea, genius.”

Young-il narrowed his eyes, clearly growing more annoyed, but before he could retort, you leaned forward, your tone sharp and cutting. “Actually, I’ve got a better plan,” you said, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “We could sacrifice you.”

The room went silent for a moment, the tension thick as the group processed your words. Gi-hun let out an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, while a few others exchanged awkward glances.

“Sacrifice me?” Young-il repeated, his tone incredulous.

You shrugged, your smirk widening. “Think about it,” you said, your voice light but laced with venom. “You’re big and loud. perfect distraction material. While the guards are busy dealing with you, the rest of us could slip away or take control of the situation. It’s actually the first useful thing you’d contribute to this group.”

A few stifled laughs broke out among the group, and even Gi-hun couldn’t help but crack a small smile despite himself.

Young-il stepped closer to you, his expression darkening. “You’ve got a lot of nerve,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

“And you’ve got a lot of bad ideas,” you shot back, meeting his glare without flinching.

Gi-hun quickly stepped between the two of you, holding up his hands to keep the peace. “Alright, that’s enough,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the tension. “We don’t have time for this. We need to work together if we want this rebellion to succeed.”

You huffed, leaning back and crossing your arms. “Fine,” you muttered, though the annoyance in your tone was clear.

Young-il gave you one last glare before stepping back, his jaw clenched as he returned to his spot by the wall.

Gi-hun sighed, running a hand through his hair as he addressed the group again. “We need a plan that doesn’t rely on brute force or unnecessary risks,” he said. “Let’s focus on strategy and coordination. If we work together, we can pull this off.”

The group nodded, slowly returning their focus to the task at hand. But even as the discussion continued, the tension between you and Young-il lingered, an unspoken reminder of the complicated dynamics within the group.

The waves crashed gently against the hull of the boat, a rhythmic sound that matched the faint sway of the vessel as it cut through the water. The night sky stretched endlessly above, filled with stars that seemed to twinkle with quiet indifference to the turmoil brewing below. Your twin leaned against the railing, staring out at the horizon with a mix of determination and unease.

Jun-ho approached, his footsteps light but purposeful. He carried a thermos in one hand and two tin cups in the other. “I figured you could use something warm,” he said, his tone casual but carrying a hint of understanding.

She glanced over her shoulder and offered a faint smile. “Thanks,” she said, taking one of the cups as he poured some tea into it.

The two stood in silence for a moment, sipping from their cups and listening to the sound of the waves. There was a heaviness in the air, an unspoken weight they both carried, though neither seemed ready to address it outright.

“You know,” Jun-ho said finally, his voice quiet, “this feels like a never-ending circle. The searching, the questioning, the dead ends… sometimes it feels like no matter how far I get, I always end up right back where I started.”

She nodded, her grip tightening slightly on the cup. “Yeah,” she murmured. “It’s like every lead brings more questions than answers. I keep thinking I’m getting closer, but then something happens, and it all falls apart again. It’s exhausting.”

Jun-ho leaned against the railing beside you, his gaze fixed on the dark expanse of water. ”How long has it been since your sister went missing?” he said, more a statement than a question.

She nodded,her expression softening as a flicker of vulnerability crossed her face. “It’s been years ago,” she said quietly. “It was like she just vanished into thin air. No clues, no trace… nothing. A part of me wonders if I’ll ever find her, but I can’t bring myself to stop looking. It’s like… if I give up, then I’m admitting she’s gone.”

Jun-ho’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as he listened. “I get that,” he said, his voice low. “I’m searching for my brother. It’s been years, but I can’t let it go. I’ve uncovered bits and pieces. just enough to keep me going, but not enough to find him. And every time I think I’m getting close, something or someone gets in my way.”

She turned to look at him, her brows furrowing. “Someone?”

Jun-ho hesitated, his gaze flicking to the deck as if debating how much to say. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I’ve been on this trail for a while now, and there’s always been this… shadow. People who seem determined to keep me from finding the truth. At first, I thought it was just bad luck, but now I’m starting to think it’s deliberate.”

Her expression hardened, her free hand gripping the railing. “You think someone’s trying to stop you?”

Jun-ho nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I don’t just think it. I know it. Someone doesn’t want me getting close to the island. And I can’t shake the feeling that whoever it is, they know more about my brother’s disappearance than they’re letting on.”

The two of them exchanged a tense look, the weight of their shared suspicions settling over them.

Unbeknownst to either of them, Captain Park stood below deck, his sharp eyes scanning over a map spread out on the table. He traced a line with his finger, marking the boat’s course. In his other hand, he held a small, black device a secure line to the Front Man.

The distorted voice of the Front Man came through the receiver. “Report.”

Captain Park’s jaw tightened as he spoke. “We’re en route to the island,” he said. “Everything’s proceeding as planned. But there’s a complication.”

The voice on the other end was cold and unyielding. “Explain.”

Captain Park glanced at the staircase leading up to the deck, his expression dark. “One of the passengers. Jun-ho. he’s been asking too many questions. He’s getting closer to the truth.”

There was a pause, and then the voice replied, “Keep him away from the island. Whatever it takes. Do not let him uncover anything. Understood?”

“Yes,” Captain Park said, his tone flat. “Understood.”

As he ended the call, his gaze hardened, and he turned back to the map. For years, he had been following orders, playing his part in the larger scheme. His loyalty to the Front Man was unwavering, but there were moments brief, fleeting moments when he questioned the morality of his actions.

Above deck, Your twin and Jun-ho continued to talk, oblivious to the storm brewing below.

“We’ll figure this out,” she said firmly, her determination cutting through the doubt. “Whatever it takes, we’ll find them. Your brother, my sister… we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Jun-ho nodded, a faint but genuine smile breaking through his usually guarded expression. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “We will.”

But even as the two of them reaffirmed their resolve, Captain Park stood in the shadows, his loyalty to the Front Man ensuring that their journey would be anything but smooth.

The group had gathered once again in the corner of the dormitory, their voices low as Gi-hun laid out the next steps for the rebellion. The plan was delicate balancing timing, coordination, and the element of surprise. Everyone leaned in, listening intently, their expressions tense as they hung onto every word.

Young-il, standing with his arms crossed and an air of confidence that didn’t match the room’s energy, suddenly spoke up. “I’ve been thinking,” he began, his voice cutting through the conversation, “what if instead of splitting up like Gi-hun said, we all rush the guards at once? Overwhelm them with numbers. They won’t expect us to come at them head-on.”

The room went quiet for a beat, everyone glancing around to gauge the reaction. You let out a loud, exasperated groan, throwing your head back dramatically before fixing Young-il with a pointed glare.

“Seriously?” you said, your voice heavy with annoyance. “That’s your brilliant plan? Rushing the guards like a bunch of idiots?” You crossed your arms, leaning back against the wall. “It’s like you’re trying to find the fastest way to get us all killed. Do you even think before you open your mouth?”

Young-il’s jaw tightened, his expression hardening as he stared you down. “I’m just trying to contribute,” he snapped.

You rolled your eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Contribute? The only thing you’re contributing is a higher body count for their side. Do you ever stop to consider how stupid some of your ideas are? It’s better if you just keep your mouth shut, honestly.”

The group exchanged awkward glances, unsure whether to intervene or let the two of you go at it. Even Gi-hun seemed at a loss, his lips pressed into a thin line as he tried to keep the discussion on track.

Young-il took a step closer to you, his voice rising. “And what’s your plan, then? Since you’re so much smarter than everyone else.”

“Oh, I have a plan,” you shot back, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “And it doesn’t involve running into gunfire like a lunatic. But hey, if you’re so eager to play hero, we could always sacrifice you instead.”

That earned a few stifled chuckles from the group, though most of them quickly looked away when Young-il’s glare swept over them.

“Why Sacrifice me?” he repeated, his tone incredulous.

You smirked, leaning forward slightly as if daring him to argue. “Yeah, why not? Think about it, you’re loud, stubborn, and completely disposable. Perfect for drawing attention while the rest of us get actual work done. The only thing you’re good at is when you’re eating, so unless you plan on shoving food into the guards’ mouths to slow them down, I don’t see how you’re useful.”

A ripple of laughter broke through the tension this time, though Gi-hun quickly raised his hand to quiet the group. “Alright, that’s enough,” he said firmly, stepping between you and Young-il before things could escalate further.

You huffed, crossing your arms again as you leaned back against the wall. “I’m just saying,” you muttered under your breath, “some of us are trying to survive this, not get everyone killed.”

Young-il glared at you one last time before retreating to his corner, muttering something under his breath that you couldn’t quite hear.

Gi-hun sighed, rubbing his temples as he turned back to the group. “Can we focus, please?” he said, his tone exasperated. “We don’t have time for this. We need a plan that’s smart, coordinated, and gives us the best chance of surviving. If anyone has constructive suggestions, now’s the time to share them.”

The group murmured their agreement, shifting uncomfortably as they tried to refocus on the task at hand. You glanced at Young-il out of the corner of your eye, catching the frustration etched into his face.

“Good talk,” you muttered sarcastically under your breath, earning a few stifled smiles from the group.

Despite the tension, the conversation moved forward, though the air between you and Young-il remained thick with unspoken animosity. And as Gi-hun continued to lay out the rebellion’s details, you couldn’t help but wonder if Young-il’s presence in the group would end up being more trouble than it was worth.

The group was gathered in the dimly lit corner of the dormitory once again, the tension thick in the air as the weight of the upcoming rebellion loomed over everyone. Gi-hun had been explaining some of the risks they might face, but you could tell the group’s morale was shaky. Everyone knew the next game dubbed the “Special Game” was going to be brutal. If they wanted to stand a chance at survival, they needed a strategy, and they needed it fast.

You leaned forward, sitting cross-legged on the floor, your sharp eyes scanning the group. “Alright, listen up,” you said, your voice cutting through the hushed murmurs. “I’ve got an idea.”

Everyone turned to you, their expressions a mix of curiosity and desperation. Even Young-il, leaning against the wall with his usual smug look, seemed mildly interested, though his arms remained crossed in defiance.

You took a deep breath and began laying out your plan, your voice steady and confident. “When the Special Game begins, we already know what’s going to happen. ‘Team O’ are going to trying to eliminate us. Which is known as ‘weeding out the weakest,’ or whatever twisted logic they call it i. But we’re not going to play into their hands.”

The group leaned in closer, hanging on your every word. Even Gi-hun looked impressed by how quickly you’d taken control of the conversation.

“We’ll start by hiding under the beds,” you continued, gesturing around the room. “It’s not about being scared or weak. it’s about strategy. If we stay out in the open, we’re sitting ducks. Hiding under the beds, we’ll have the element of surprise. The soldiers will come in, guns blazing, stopping special game. and checking if the players are dead, But that’s when we make our move.”

A ripple of understanding passed through the group as they began nodding, murmuring in agreement.

“When they start shooting at the players, we’ll spring out and catch them off guard,” you said, your tone sharp and determined. “We’ll fight back, disarm them, and take their guns. Once we’ve got their weapons, it’s game over for them. They’ll realize they’re outnumbered, and most of them will retreat.”

You paused, letting your words sink in before adding, “But there’ll always be one one soldier who refuses to give up, who thinks he can be a hero. That’s the one we’ll corner. We’ll force him to cooperate, make him take us to the control room. And that’s where we’ll find the leader of the mask.”

The room was silent for a moment, everyone processing the boldness of your plan. Then, one by one, they began nodding, murmuring their approval. Even Gi-hun gave you a small, approving smile.

“That’s a solid plan,” Geum-ja said, her voice steady.

“Yeah, it could actually work,” Yong-sik agreed, his expression brightening with hope.

The murmurs grew louder as more players voiced their agreement, a newfound sense of determination spreading through the group.

You smirked, leaning back slightly and crossing your arms. Your eyes landed on Young-il, who was glaring at you from his spot against the wall. His expression was a mixture of annoyance and begrudging respect, though he clearly wasn’t ready to admit it.

“See?” you said, your tone dripping with mock sweetness. “Everyone loves my idea better than yours. That’s what you call woman power.” You gave him a pointed look, your smirk widening. “And be happy, Young-il. That I didn’t sacrifice you.”

A few members of the group chuckled at your jab, though they quickly stifled their laughter when Young-il’s glare swept over them.

“Don’t get too cocky,” Young-il muttered, his tone low and defensive.

You shrugged, unbothered by his reaction. “I’m just saying,” you replied, your voice light but laced with sarcasm. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice before suggesting one of your dumb plans.”

Gi-hun stepped in before things could escalate, his hands raised in a calming gesture. “Alright, let’s not waste energy arguing,” he said, his voice firm. “Y/N’s plan is solid, and if we stick to it, we have a real chance of turning the tide. Let’s focus on preparing and making sure everyone knows their role.”

The group nodded, their focus returning to the task at hand. Even Young-il seemed to begrudgingly accept the plan, though the tension between you two remained palpable.

As the meeting continued, you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction. For once, the group was united, and your plan had given them a glimmer of hope. You just hoped that when the time came, they’d all be ready to act and that Young-il wouldn’t find a way to screw it up.

The sun was beginning to set, painting the horizon in shades of orange and pink as your twin and Jun-ho stood at the edge of the boat, the waves crashing gently against the hull. The conversation between them had grown more personal over the past few hours, their shared goal of finding their missing siblings acting as an unspoken bond that pulled them closer.

She leaned against the railing, staring out at the water, her expression distant. “You know,”she began softly, “it’s been years, but I’ve never stopped looking. Every day, I wake up thinking that today could be the day I find her. My twin… my other half.”

Jun-ho, standing beside her, nodded in quiet understanding. “I know exactly what you mean,” he said, his voice low. “When my brother went missing, it felt like a part of me disappeared with him. I’ve spent every waking moment since trying to figure out what happened to him. It’s like… until I find him, I can’t let myself move on.”

She glanced over at Jun-ho, her lips curving into a small, bittersweet smile. “It’s strange, isn’t it? How someone’s absence can take up so much space in your life.”

Jun-ho returned the smile, though there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Yeah. It’s like everything else fades into the background, and all that matters is finding them.”

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the sound of the ocean filling the space between them. Then Jun-ho spoke again, his tone lighter this time. “You know, once we find the island and you find your twin and I find my brother maybe we should celebrate.”

She raised an eyebrow, glancing at Jun-ho with a curious look. “Celebrate how?”

Jun-ho grinned, a rare flash of playfulness breaking through his usually serious demeanor. “How about dinner? You and me, somewhere far away from all this madness. A real meal, no rations, no guards, no games. Just good food, good company, and no stress for once.”

She let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. “You’re already planning dinner, huh? We haven’t even found the island yet.”

“Hey,” Jun-ho said with a shrug, his grin widening. “It’s called optimism. You can’t survive something like this without a little bit of hope.”

She smiled, her gaze softening as she looked back at the horizon. “You’ve got a point,” she admitted. “And honestly? A real meal does sound nice. Something to remind us that there’s still life outside of all this.”

Jun-ho nodded, his expression turning more serious. “Exactly. Once this is over, we deserve to have something to look forward to. Something to remind us why we’re fighting so hard to get through this.”

She glanced at him, a hint of gratitude in her eyes. “You’re not bad at this whole motivational speech thing, you know that?”

Jun-ho laughed quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t get used to it. I’m usually more of a ‘keep to myself’ kind of guy.”

“Well,” she said, a small smile playing on her lips, “I’ll hold you to that dinner, then. But only if we both make it out of this alive.”

Jun-ho extended his hand, his expression serious but with a glimmer of determination. “Deal. We both make it out, and dinner’s on me.”

She took his hand, shaking it firmly. “Deal.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the boat in shadows, the two of them stood side by side, their shared resolve strengthening their bond. Though the journey ahead was uncertain and fraught with danger, the promise of a simple dinner a moment of normalcy in a world of chaos gave them both a sliver of hope to hold onto.

The dormitory had fallen into a heavy silence as everyone began settling in for the night. The faint sound of the guards’ footsteps echoed in the distance, blending with the rhythmic hum of the facility’s ventilation system. Players shuffled to their assigned areas, whispering final words to each other before pulling up their thin blankets. Despite the stillness, there was an undercurrent of tension a quiet storm brewing as everyone braced themselves for what was to come.

You sat on your bed, leaning against the cold wall as you absentmindedly toyed with a loose thread on your sleeve. The rebellion was so close now, the plans coming together perfectly. But the weight of everything your role, the deception, the risks hung heavy on your chest. You couldn’t afford any slip-ups. Not now.

As you were lost in thought, you noticed a shadow moving out of the corner of your eye. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Moments later, Young-il appeared beside you, his expression smug as he casually leaned against the edge of the bed.

“Marriage power,” he murmured with a sly smirk, his voice low enough that no one else would hear.

You glanced up at him, one eyebrow raised. “What?”

“That’s what I’m calling it,” he said, his smirk widening. “You called it ‘woman power’ earlier, but let’s be real—our teamwork, our strategy… that’s what’s really keeping this rebellion together. It’s marriage power.”

You rolled your eyes, though a small smirk tugged at the corners of your lips. “You’re insufferable,” you muttered, shaking your head.

Young-il chuckled softly, lowering his voice even further. “Do you think one of the soldiers is going to reveal themselves during the rebellion?”

You sighed, leaning forward slightly as you considered the question. “You know it’s happened before,” you said quietly. “It’s happened multiple times. And if it happens again, you know what we do.” Your eyes locked with his, a steely determination in your gaze. “We take them out, no hesitation. But we also need to be smart about it. We have to make sure that we have soldiers securing the control rooms and all of the places.”

Young-il nodded, his expression serious now as he listened intently. You continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been thinking… during the rebellion, you could fake your death. It’ll throw everyone off, especially Gi-hun and his team. They won’t see it coming.”

A spark of intrigue flickered in Young-il’s eyes. “Faking my death, huh?”

You nodded, leaning closer. “Once everyone thinks you’re gone, you’ll slip away and change into your normal clothing and wear the mask. Then you’ll have the perfect opportunity to get to Jung-bae. You can eliminate him as the Frontman, and no one will suspect a thing.”

Young-il’s smirk returned, a dark glint in his eyes. “And Gi-hun?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

“Gi-hun will be heartbroken,” you said without hesitation, your tone cold and calculated. “Jung-bae is his best friend. When Jung-bae dies, the guilt is going to eat him alive just like it did when he first joined the games back in 2020.”

Young-il let out a low chuckle, his smirk widening. “You’re ruthless, you know that?”

You shrugged, leaning back against the wall. “It’s not about being ruthless. It’s about surviving. And if Gi-hun’s guilt can be used against him, we’d be stupid not to take advantage of it.”

Young-il’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “I wish I could kiss you,” he murmured, his voice so low it was almost drowned out by the hum of the room. “I miss kissing you.”

Your expression softened for a brief moment, and you glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention. “Don’t worry,” you said softly. “Soon, this will all be over. And when it is, we’ll have all the time in the world.”

Young-il nodded, his smirk returning as a hint of mischief danced in his eyes. “Gi-hun and his little team will regret ever messing with us,” he said, his voice dark. “The Frontman and his wife aren’t just players. they’re the real architects of this game. And the games will continue. No one else is stronger, smarter, or more cunning than us.”

You allowed yourself a small, conspiratorial smile, nodding in agreement. “Exactly. And when this is over, no one will even remember Gi-hun or his rebellion. The games will stay, and we’ll be the ones pulling the strings.”

Young-il straightened up, his confidence radiating from him as he cast one final glance around the room. “Soon,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “Very soon.”

With that, he slipped away into his bed, leaving you alone with your thoughts. The rebellion was coming, and so was the final act of your carefully crafted plan. All that was left now was to wait for the perfect moment to strike.

[sxcret-garden]

Seonghwa ღ 8:34pm [M]

ღ Ateez Seonghwa x fem-bodied!reader ღ words: ~1.1k ღ genre & warnings: smut (mommy!Seonghwa, sub!reader, he calls reader "kitten", lots of praise, finger sucking, guided masturbation, fingering, tiny bit of nipple play (all reader receiving), dacryphilia, subspace & dumbification implied for reader) ღ reader: has a vagina, reader's nipples are mentioned but their chest is not described further, no pronouns used for reader

Desc.: in which Seonghwa uses his (and your) fingers to make you feel good.

Author's note: Well we all know how this one happened I think *glances at milano hwa*

"That's right, kitten," Seonghwa coos, watching intently as two of his digits sink further into your mouth. "You're taking them so well for me." You make a pathetic little noise, your tongue running along his slender fingers, coating them in your saliva. Heat rushes to your face because he just won't look away, quite the opposite actually - he seems completely mesmerized by the way your lips wrap around his fingers.

"There..." Seonghwa reaches for one of your hands, bringing it up to his mouth, and your breath hitches when he extends his tongue to lick a stripe from the base of your index finger all the way to the tip. You're kneeling in front of each other on his bed, with you dressed in a pretty pink and white set of lingerie, the panties having already been removed by him earlier. Your thighs tremble from the anticipation, and from thinking about how good his tongue would feel all over your body - and he seems to catch onto your excitement, as a fond smile grows on his beautiful lips.

"It's your turn, kitten," he mumbles, the soft tone of his voice wrapping itself around your ears as he guides you to put two of your digits into his mouth. Keeping eye contact so intense it makes your head spin, you feel the wet heat of his mouth around them, and a shudder runs down your spine when his tongue parts your fingers inside his mouth, licking into the space between them and he hums in appreciation. His wet muscle snaking around them, you mimic his ministrations on his fingers, and eventually he releases your hand with a lewd sound. Wordlessly, he guides your stained fingers towards your core, urging you to touch yourself with merely a gesture. And you do, a muffled moan escaping your throat when you come in contact with your throbbing pussy, spit coated fingers gliding effortlessly through your folds. You knit your eyebrows at the intense feeling, but Seonghwa only encourages you further.

"Such a good little kitten... making yourself feel good for me?" You nod as he inserts another finger into your mouth, and as if hypnotized, you dip a digit into your dripping cunt. Another mewl falls from your lips, and you close your eyes as Seonghwa's fingertips play with your wet muscle. He traces the outline of your teeth, causing your mouth to fall open further, and he takes it as an invitation to add a fourth finger.

"So pretty for me... add another one too?" You do, pumping two fingers in and out of you, and when he reaches down between your bodies to wrap his free hand around your wrist so he could angle your hand in a way that makes your palm rub against your clit gently, your eyes flutter shut. "You're so pretty my kitten... 's it feel good?" You whine in response, finger working both your pussy and your mouth, and when Seonghwa brings his fingertips a little closer to the back of your throat, you gag around them. He pulls back immediately, cooing, "We can't have that now, can we?" You whimper, your own fingers hitting that delicious spot deep inside you just right, and the pleasure builds up in the pits of your stomach.

"Doing so well for me..." Seonghwa praises you. "Being such a good kitten for mommy." You clench around your digits upon hearing his words, tears of pleasure forming in the corners of your eyes, and when he finally pulls his hand out of your mouth, there's only one word slipping past your lips.

"M-mommy..." you stutter, head already spinning.

"What is it, kitten?" he speaks softly, moving his dripping wet hand south.

"Mhmm... feels so good..." you mumble and he leans in to brush his lips against your neck right below your ear.

"Yeah? Hold still for a sec. Mommy's gonna make you feel even better." You obey, and when Seonghwa's fingers prod at your entrance, you whimper at the stretch. "Too much?" he asks as he slowly inserts not one but two of his slender digits, and you shake your head. "Bearing with it so well, I see," he whispers, and you gasp when his warm tongue licks up a stripe along the side of your throat. He works his fingers inside you, reaching a little deeper with every time he pushes back into you, and eventually he's curling them deliciously against your walls, guiding you to do the same with yours.

"Ah...!" you cry out from the overwhelming pleasure of being stuffed so full of him and yourself, and he brings his lips to yours to swallow all other sounds that escape you in a deep kiss. With each stroke against your walls you feel yourself drawing closer to your high, and when you start moving your hips in the rhythm he sets, he breaks the kiss to praise you, breathless.

"That's a good kitten..." he speaks, and then he proceeds to kiss his way down your neck, until he reaches your chest. Biting the fabric of your lingerie, he pulls it to the side, until he can wrap his lips around your nipple, hot tongue drawing circles around the sensitive bud, making you lose your mind yet a little further.

"M-mommy... mommy...!" you cry out, tears spilling from your eyes while all the overwhelming pleasure gets too much. Seonghwa hums at your desperate noises as he's buried knuckles deep in your clenching cunt, and when you squirm under his touch he only becomes more eager to make you feel good. A few more licks against your skin, a few more thrusts of his fingers into you, and he has you coming undone in his arms, your orgasm washing over you while incoherent whines fall from your lips. He helps you prolong your high, keeping a steady pace for as long as your body convulses against his touch and you clench around your and his fingers, and then, when you're finally coming down from it, he pulls out and lies you down carefully.

"Did so well for mommy..." he praises you, drawing comforting circles onto your thighs with his palm, and he brings his other hand that's coated in your juices up to your mouth. "See how sweet you are," he says as he watches you lick his fingers clean obediently. "I wonder how much sweeter you'll taste once I make you cum on my tongue instead..."

Taglist:

@aaa-sia @wooyoungisbaby @winklehwa @asianpenguin04 @certifiedmoa

@bunnyluvr25

[ma1dita]

don't blame the kids

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader prev -> not your goddess | next -> trouble's coming for you words: 7.6k summary: (established relationship (kinda lol)) The one where you both chaperone a trip to Mount Olympus. The Olympians are bigger gossips than you thought they'd be. (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader) a/n: the Chapter—set during the winter solstice; tldr: your dads are besties + hera is a good judge of character.... more d & trouble as requested, enjoy! eh ill edit this once i get back from class later tonight, taglist & ao3 update to be posted then as well

—

Your head falls against the metal of the school bus with an audible thunk. The sound of discordant cackles wakes you up from a dreamless sleep, making you jam your mouth shut and feel your spit go stale on this chilly winter morning.

“Rough night?” 

Keeping your cool despite the pounding headache, you mumble out an incoherent reply to your younger brother, whichever one he was. The old leather seat sighs as one of them sits down, the added weight jostling your legs as you groan and open your eyes to see two blond heads staring at your tired form. One of them peers from over the seat in front while the other leans over your lap, rifling through your backpack for snacks—there’s no such thing as personal space with these two for siblings.

You blink slowly as your vision clears, the cold grayscale interior of the bus still too bright on your eyes.

It’s too early for this shit.

“You’re talking to yourself again,” Pollux grins, noticing briefly that you’ve made an internal thought external. He hands his twin a granola bar from your backpack and leans back against your shoulder.

“Need this weekend to be over already,” you mumble, “just wanna sleep a bit longer and forget all of this. You two helping me later or are you gonna do that juggling bit again with the bottles of ambrosia?”

“Too bad it’s just begun,” Castor chuckles, before flopping back into his seat, then calling out, “and we’re playing the water glasses, thought it would make dad laugh—HEY!“ You tossed your water bottle at him and missed only because he conjured it into his hand and not your intended target of his skull. 

“We’ll be around if you need an extra hand up there,” Pollux murmurs over a hot chip, the crunch reverberating into your ear, “Are we gonna talk about why your boyfriend is on the opposite end of the bus?” Or why he didn’t come to cabin 12 last night… The stealth of sons of Hermes aside, the twins always know when he drops by— Luke usually leaves bags of stolen candy and tiny trinkets tied to their doorknobs when they lose teeth. To be honest, they’ve known the tooth fairy hasn’t existed since they were ten, but Pollux has one last molar he was looking forward to cashing in for a Push-pop.

“Nope.”

“Good talk,” he nods, before belching so loudly you shove him into the aisle, “Ow!”

The rest of the bus is filled with quiet chatter and excitement as you decide to take the chance and get up to survey the handful of campers who join you for the winter solstice. Some of the younger ones are crammed like sardines with bobbing heads as the bumps and turns of the Long Island Expressway rock them in and out of sleep, which is a privilege you were just robbed of. The others that are still excited to see their godrents move animatedly as they clamber over each other and practice their performances for later, a dissonant symphony of prose and instruments out of tune, vines growing from the Demeters’ row, and multiple charcoal pencils rolling along the floor towards the driver sitting up front.

There’s only so much you can hide on a bus, and now that you’re awake…

“Beck!” you hiss as the smell of burning hair wafts through the enclosed space, “No fire on the bus!” The dark-skinned boy looks at you sheepishly, fanning his younger sibling’s singed eyebrows and cracking open a window. Ironically (no pun intended, but while we’re here, ha!) Hephaestus will love his kids even if all of Olympus goes up in smoke. You wish you could say the same for the rest of your campers. The ones left to consider—like those of Hermes, watch the blur of the road whizz past their peripherals, lacking their usual sense of merriment and mischief in knowing their father will be a no-show even on the one day a year they’re allowed to visit. Though a worthless trip off the island is way better than cleaning wine glasses with the nymphs—to them, kitchen duty ends when one’s fingers are about to fall off the bone. 

Making a mental tally of your kids in case any of them have decided to fall out of the vehicle during your much needed break (demigods can get into twice the amount of trouble mortals can in half the time after all), you notice Annie’s waving you over towards her and her seatmate who is coincidentally the only person you wish would drop into the East River.

You make your way over feeling like you’re walking to your death, with your knees buckling with the movements of the bus, momentarily stumbling to a stop in front of their row and conjuring a juice box for Annie with a small smile. Your boyfriend(? — could you still call him that? You remember falling asleep in the storage room counting the sleeping bags, waking up in your bed alone and not much else) looks up at you expectantly as if you’re the one who should have something to say now. You avert your eyes quickly. 

Even on the shortest day of the year, being under his gaze makes time pass slowly like being dipped in molasses. The feeling sits at your throat uncomfortably, and your resolve makes your stomach feel like an endless pit.

“Yeah, Annie?” you say simply. You don’t mean to, but the smile on your face fades ever so slightly. They both notice and don’t say anything—one in contemplation and the other in disappointment. 

“You look awful.”

Okay, what the fuck. Between the thousand-yard stare you gave your wall this morning and the amount of time you spent slathering makeup on at the crack-ass of dawn, you would think that at least your eyebags were concealed enough.

But Annabeth Chase is nothing if not honest, and even if you were the best actress she’s ever met (which you are), there is no way of hiding heartbreak. 

Can you call this that? 

Heartbreak. 

You’re still unsure of if it’s really over—can you say that Luke broke your heart if there’s no way of being certain? What is a break, anyway? Are there terms and conditions you should follow? Is this the part where you two just never talk again and it’ll always feel like this?

But if the boy sitting across from you broke your heart, you think you’d be able to tell—so let the evidence show (or lack thereof) that you’re pretty sure he took it with him, wordlessly and selfishly like a son of Hermes would. With no remorse. 

Let’s not call this heartbreak then. Perhaps the more accurate word to describe your expression is despondence—he chips away at you further with how he looks at you now. Luke catches himself admiring the way you’ve done your hair and the glitter on your eyelids and then honey meets amethyst as your eyes lock. In between an obvious sigh and the way you bite your tongue, he realizes that despite your beauty always rivaling that of Aphrodite (at least in his honest opinion), there’s something hollow in the way you look back at him this morning. He doesn’t know how to feel about that either. 

You both didn’t end off on a good note yesterday—and that much, plus the rare occasion of sleeping alone in the months you two have been together was disconcerting, to say the least. 

“Thanks for that. If that’s all, I’m gonna go back to my seat,” you deadpan, turning back towards the front of the bus. 

You can’t even look at him, you realize. In the almost five years you’ve known Luke Castellan, your favorite thing to do was just look at him, from the way his nose scrunches when he laughs, to the fluttering of his eyelashes when he gets tired, because one of the easiest parts of loving him was by just watching him to see if he was looking right back at you.

And you can’t even do that, because it comes with a whole bunch of feelings you have no time to unpack right now. You decide to focus on the scar that spreads across his cheek instead when Luke calls your attention back towards them. He says your name so softly you almost miss it, gentle, like how someone talks to a child. It’s infuriating.

“I thought you were driving the bus today?” 

Somehow a simple interaction like this feels like the hardest performance of your life. Breakups never came easy, but dear gods, why right before the winter solstice of all days— you mumble a reply so quietly even Annabeth leans a bit closer to hear, “Didn’t sleep well. Big day today.” You brace against the seatback in front of them, tightening your core as the bus whips around a bend.

“Thought it’d be safer if I got one of the satyrs. Had to promise him unlimited access to the kitchens for a month though.”

Almost slamming into a full stop, your eyes widen as your body hits leather, properly leaning over the both of them as the daughter of Athena holds onto your leg and one of Luke’s hands grabs your arm.

“Gods. Look how that’s going,” the younger girl jokes, before looking up again to see her brother and you staring at each other motionlessly. Everything goes quiet—you don’t hear screaming campers or see Clarisse shaking one of her younger siblings upside down for a candy bar. Your knees shake slightly under the weight you figuratively carry on your shoulders. How will you show face to the gods when you can’t even keep a smile steady?

Time stops for a moment, and if it’s only been 12 hours, you’ve already lost count— but its felt like a lifetime since he held you like he might still care. It’s hard to tell, the both of you are too stubborn and it reminds you of a time when all of your conversations went like this—vitriol and annoyance leaking from each word, but at least when you were fourteen it felt like the build up to something great.

But what happens after great is exhausted? The comedown is a terse conversation that almost flies over Annabeth’s head—said in a way that adults do when everything is veiled and heavy, not meant to be seen by prying eyes and younger hearts. 

“I didn’t mean for it to turn out this way,” Luke mutters from beside her. You retract your arm like you’ve been burned and shake your head, “Well, it did.”

The wise girl starts to put the dots together, face scrunching as she deciphers the hidden meaning behind your exchange. She should’ve known Luke didn’t actually want to sit with her and talk about her latest chess match—the son of Hermes loves a good game but has no interest if he’s not the one winning. They both watch you rush back to your seat, the swaying of the bus pushing you farther and faster until you fall away out of sight. 

When she gathers her thoughts, the words lay heavy on her tongue like a hot iron until she spits it out at her older brother. Annabeth Chase sparingly cusses, you see, mostly under her breath and really only when she’s stumped by a situation, especially since she’s only just turned eleven a few months ago—but she looks at him like a foreign object she doesn’t know how to dissect.

“You’ve got nerve, Luke. How do you always fuck up this bad?” Her dark braids drag over her shoulder as she turns to look the other way, away from him.

Luke swallows dryly, biting down on the flesh of his cheek. Between his plan for today and his impeccable timing of monumentally screwing up his relationship with you? 

It’s like Annabeth hit the nail on the head, and he couldn’t agree more.

—

“Alright, places everyone,” you drone, tapping your pen against your clipboard like a gavel before a session in court. The Hall of Gods is just as unruly as your campers when you don’t water down the juice boxes, you realize—Olympians are mulling about the throne room, chattering and making it known that they’d rather be doing who knows what on the only day of the year that it’s mandatory for them to be parents. You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose as you silently agree—there are much better uses of your time that you can think of right now, like making sure to hand Michael his epi-pen before lunch and hoping Connor and Travis aren’t scamming every seller blind at the street-markets of Olympus.

Everyone else is enjoying their free time and you’re…here, watching Apollo, god of music and truth, annoy his twin by sending birds to fly circles around her head. 

Cacophonous laughter startles you, turning to see Hades watching the chaos with his arms crossed over his chest. Draped in black, his chill expression looms over the papers in your hand as he peers at the schedule.

“Siblings, am I right? Sorry you have to deal with mine.”

“Divine Hades,” you bow your head slightly, “they’re erecting your pedestal for the solstice as we speak, I apologize in behalf of—”

He waves a hand dismissively, “No need, child. I know you’re just doing your job. I can wait.”

“Well, I can’t if they’re all acting like children,” you mutter, the both of you watching Zeus bicker with Hera with increasing volume before she storms out, not before addressing the god of the Underworld with a nod.

And he smirks, letting out another laugh that the sound of it quiets the Olympians and sends them towards their seats like obedient students in a classroom. The nymphs are finished pushing the newly-fashioned slab of a throne into position, twelve turning into thirteen and Hades makes his way over as well, gesturing back at you, “Remind me of your name again?”

You say it calmly, clicking your pen. Your dad is sprawled out on his throne, legs over the side as he stares at the ceiling, “Alright princess—let’s get this show on the road.”

“Will we be waiting for…” your voice trails off, briefly looking towards the door.

“Nonsense. I’m sure you can brief her afterwards,” Zeus booms, and you swallow. There goes your lunch break.

“Of course. And Hermes?” You ask, eyes flickering to the only empty seat.

“Working.”

Clearing your throat, you stand tall to address the deities in the room and though you can’t look any of them in the eye, (besides your father that’s already guzzling his fourth cup of ambrosia at eleven in the morning) it does not deter you from what you came here to accomplish. Might as well do the job well if there’s nothing else to look forward to for today.

You go over the schedule of events like an automated system, not stopping even when Ares starts sighing at the end of your sentences and Demeter sends daggers toward Hades with her eyes. It’s enough to wonder why those without children present today even stay. Formalities, you presume.

“Any questions? Good, I’ll see you all in here at four o’clock,” you quickly say, not giving them a chance to interject—spinning on your heel to walk out of there with even a shrivel left of your patience. 

You find yourself running through your list again by the time you reach the end of the hall: you need to grab the tapestry that cabin 6 wove for their mother’s shrine from the bus, Lee needs help bringing in the harp after lunch, and your brothers need enough wine glasses to fill with water for their performance since they haven’t mastered the conjuring trick so well yet.

Her presence imposes itself upon you before you spot her perched next to the windowsill—the queen of the gods is not meant to be a decorative wallflower, after all. 

“D-divine Hera,” you stutter and stop short, “Would you have a moment to go over the schedule?”

“I know the schedule, child. I’ve been here longer than you. What is it, your fourth year running this thing?” She’s expressionless, maybe even a bit bored with the topic as she looks down at you. You stare at the peacock feather shawl that hangs off her shoulders.

“Third, ma’am.”

Hera smiles (or at least it sounds like she is, talking to her has always felt like twirling on a minefield), “It doesn’t surprise me that all of this falls on a woman. Where’s your husband?”

“My what?” 

You don’t mean to, but your knee-jerk reaction is to look her in the eye and the both of you are surprised by that. Hera’s perfectly arched brows are sky high now, but you haven’t been incinerated yet, so you can deduce that she might like you (or is still contemplating the matter), “The one with the pretty face, such a shame about that scar. You two were inseparable last year, I just assumed…”

With a face on fire, you clear your throat, “Oh. Luke and I aren’t…” Your eyes press closed, hot-red embarrassment brimming into tears you don’t expect to surface. Another reminder that he’s not your…anything right now.

“Mm,” she hums thoughtfully, “Sometimes I forget what year it is. Human societal norms and all that.”

A soft wind billows through the open air, and you hug the clipboard to your chest. You are not about to trauma dump on Hera. Though in a way, she might understand you more than you think.

“I sent him away, I guess. Sometimes it’s much easier to do things alone,” but even you don’t sound convinced. The side of Hera’s lip quirk upwards and she looks at you knowingly, “I agree. Though I guess there are worse things in life than sharing the hard parts with someone you love.” 

Looking down at your shoes, you’re not sure of what else to say. It reminds Hera of her and her husband, before time complicated everything. In the early years, every obstacle feels world-ending until it passes and all you can do is laugh with the person who was by your side. 

“I don’t have to be there later, don’t I?” the queen of the gods mutters. You shrug. Your opinion doesn’t matter, clearly, because she continues, “I don’t have any children in the show that are performing but…I want to be there.”

“I get that,” you say awkwardly, shaking your head to not fumble this conversation further, but she smiles, patting your shoulder as she walks past—it almost feels like a blessing. 

Or maybe she wasn’t even listening to you at all. 

She stops at the end of the hall.

“Trust is a fickle thing, child. It has more value once it’s been broken, and rebuilding it takes two sets of hands. Catch and fall, push and pull, go and follow.” Hera looks back at you again, her white dress swishing at her hips, “Do you agree?”

“I guess.” 

The queen of the gods looks at you thoughtfully, a girl humbly offering her heart out to her divine presence and wanting her partner, a son of Hermes at that— over any glory Olympus can provide. 

Oh, to be young and in love—it makes one invincible.

“Then I hope he makes it worth your while.”

She leaves you to your thoughts and they echo to meet her like a bittersweet greeting. Hera smiles, seeing them run through your head like a video on loop—replacing bloodied bandages in a dark train car, glitter and giggles in a locked room, burnt chocolate chip cookies, and face masks in the dim light of a bathroom. 

The ritual of marriage has definitely changed over the millennia the goddess has lived through, but what you and Luke share is what she considers to be its truest form—that of two souls choosing one another over and over.

—

There’s not a lot of things that can make the herald of Olympus stop in his tracks. He holds as many titles as the letters that fly through his fingertips—though Hermes delivers mail with gratifying ease. The job has always been second nature; being a father…not so much.

But all the power in the world cannot compensate for the fact that you cannot save your children from themselves.

So when he sees you leaning against one of the ornate marble doors outside the Hall of Gods that afternoon, he wills himself to join you in real time. Infinite versions of himself scatter across the Earth with every second that passes. But you look familiar, and well, the trickster loves solving a good puzzle.

“I know you,” he says matter of factly, yet he can’t put his finger on it. His voice is deep, like a howling wind; it blows your hair back even when he stands still in front of you. Your gaze lifts from your clipboard to travel across his face briefly, but you don’t look him in the eye. You can’t even if you wanted to—incineration by divine form and all, so you weren’t about to test your luck with him. Tempting though—you’ve heard enough about Luke’s father to want to burn holes through the god’s head like he could yours.

“Shouldn’t you be inside with the other campers for the rest of the show?” Hermes prompts again, despite your silence. He is the god of communication after all. But there’s not a single thing you could think of telling him besides, “Shouldn’t you? Your kids have been waiting all year to see you.” Mortal lifetimes pass in the blink of an immortal’s eye—but he can’t spare a few minutes to see his kids? Hermes shrugs, like it’s nothing of the sort. Nothing he can do about it. Olympus takes priority. 

“The work never stops. You would know that.”

There’s a startling shriek that escapes from the seam of the doorway as little Will Solace shuffles through the doorway shyly. He tugs at your sleeve, keeping his head bowed and mumbles your name, “Where’s the bathroom?” The god replies to the kid instead, looking at the tiny fractals of light that reflect off the boy’s hair, “Uhhh…down the stairs and to the left, fourth door.”

“Need me to go with you buddy?”

He squeezes your hand and shakes his head, undeterred by the fact he interrupted your conversation with an Olympian, instead going to hop down the stairs without looking at either of you, “Miranda tried to sing again. She should really just stick to plants.” 

Perhaps the presence of gods isn't as impressive to a mortal when their godrent regularly visits them.

“So why exactly did you want to speak with me?”

You cross your arms and lean against the cool wall and wonder why Luke’s dad is still in front of you. After all, he has to have better things to do than make conversation with a moping girl with a workload stacked to the heavens.

Hermes repeats your name slowly as if he’s memorizing the way it sounds coming off his lips, “You look a little lost. So much so that it made me take a moment here with you.”

“I’m right where I need to be unfortunately, so…thanks but no thanks.” He’s the god of many domains—finding lost things being one of them, good luck being another, among the others. He can feel—actually, he knows that you’re searching for something even if you yourself don’t know what it is. The force that summons him to you feels thick, like quicksand that pulls him in planting his winged feet to the ground. Hermes observes your standoffish attitude and wonders if he’s offended you somehow. 

Pushing down the yearning you feel for his son who sits inside the marble doors, you wonder if it would’ve hurt less had Hermes not made your want known to you, an ugly, embarrassing thing that feels like a lump in your throat. His caduceus vibrates loudly in his pocket and with a sleight of hand it appears in front of him, clacking buttons. It’s annoying to be treated like an inconvenience, especially in a time of need. Like father, like son, you suppose.

But unfortunately he’s right. You’re a lost little thing, mind scrambled from this hellish week and where you left off with Luke. You want him with you in all senses of the term, both right now as you glare at his father and in the way one breathes air through their lungs—autonomic, because you simply can't help it. Hermes looks at you again, scratching at his ear as if everything about standing in front of you is making his ears ring, “Who do you belong to again?” He’s trying to remember where he’s seen you before. The sound of trumpets pierce your ears when the door opens again, this time Castor catching his breath as he calls your name, “Hey. Where’s the little pipsqueak? 7’s going on soon.” Everyone seems to know you except him. 

How intriguing.

Rolling your eyes, you grumble, “Bathroom. Go back inside Cas.”

“See that’s the problem, Luke asked me where you are, should I tell him you’re…” The blond looks at who you’re speaking to and swallows, “busy?”

“That’s it. You’re Luke’s girl—” the frown that deepens on your face makes him pause, “I thought your name was Trouble?” The god looks even more confused, scratching his goatee—his son, through his nightly devotions, has asked for a lot of things from him in his short lifetime. The realization comes to the forefront of Hermes’ mind like a thumbtack pierced through a map as you respond. 

“Sometimes.”

In the past year, Luke’s narrowed it down to two things: to guide him onto the right path in life and to make sure you live well enough to be on it with him. That’s what was sacred to him—but Hermes could only see himself fulfilling one of them, if we’re being honest here: an unfortunate trick of the trade.

You grimace—maybe being in there and facing Luke would be better than having this conversation with his deadbeat dad.

“Only with him,” Castor smirks, and you shove your brother towards the stairs to go find Will. 

“How did you know that, anyway?”

Hermes chuckles, looking you up and down as if seeing you clearly for the first time, “His thoughts are even louder than yours. Even though he probably has nothing nice to say about me, he thinks about you all the time, that son of mine.”

“And what do you do then? Let it fall on deaf ears?”

“Listen, I’m not allowed to meddle,” he murmurs, a twitching hand ghosting over your shoulder. He wonders if can offer comfort —you know Luke better than the idea he has of him in his head, the glimpses of his son’s life that he’s allowed himself to see. You’ve been there these past few years to live it with him. Hermes swallows, retracting his arm to put it back against his side. The door swings open again—and it’s your father this time, cradling a wine glass that fills with ambrosia when he swirls it in his grasp.

“Kid, what’s the holdup—where’s the little sunspot and Thing 2?” Mr. D raises his glass with a grin, clapping his best friend on the back— “Hermes, my friend. Making a pit stop?” 

This just got even weirder—your head starts to spin a bit. 

Talk about a nightmare blunt rotation.

Between their lighthearted banter, Will and Castor skipping up the stairs towards you, and Pollux popping his head out of the doorway to yank the glass out of your dad’s hand (“SISSY! He’s drinking my musical instrument!”), you shut your eyes to center yourself. This might be the worst day of your life. Chaos becomes you and your blood is boiling at being surrounded by too many men when the only one you care about won’t even lo—

“Kid, you okay?”

Breathing heavily, you don’t realize you’ve clenched your hands into tight fists, and your dad doesn't know what to do. There's a thought that passes his mind as swiftly as his friend can scale the world that Luke would know what to do. Mr. D doesn't mean to, but he scoffs under his breath, shaking hand extending to reach out to an equally trembling shoulder and you flinch before it makes contact. 

"M'fine, I just need a second to think."

Pressing your palms into the pits of your eyes, your father watches you inhale a breath that seems to calm the storm brewing in your core, even for a moment, “Cas, take Will inside for his cabin’s performance. D, next time, don’t touch things that aren’t yours,” you say calmly as you conjure another glass of water and hand it to Pollux, not before taking a few sips to steady your resolve and perfect the tone of the vibrations. 

Sip. 

Too sharp. 

Sip. 

Perfect.

Putting the now fully functional instrument of water in your brother’s hand, he happily walks back through the door and now you’re just left with two gods that look at you somewhat impressed. 

“Can I help you with anything else, or are you both just going to waste my time?” Tapping your foot, your face is expressionless again, any previous traces of emotion wiped clean.

“Princess, you know you could talk—”

“Nope,” you protest, “Nothing’s wrong at all. Just ready to get this day over with.” It’s rude and to the point, but you have no patience left, “ and all offense D, I’m not gonna talk about my boy problems with you, and especially not you,” you grit pointing at Hermes, “neither of you would get it and I don’t even fully get it, and partially you two are the reason why we’re like this!”

“What did Luke do?” your dad says incredulously, eyebrows furrowing. He’s sobering up from the buckets of ambrosia he’s consumed—itching to find out about what the golden boy could ever do to agitate you like this.

The gods will never know what it feels like to love someone like this—every fiber of your mortal being constantly anticipating an end without knowing when that is. You sigh helplessly, “I don’t even know where to begin.”

“I don’t know who I am without you, and he only knows who he is because of you,” spitting the words out like acid, you seethe, “we’re not exactly normal teenagers, you know, so thanks for that. I can handle it from here.”

And you push past the both of them and walk through the marble doors like nothing even happened.

"Makes sense he'd fall for her," Hermes mumbles, “your girl is a force to be reckoned with.” If not a bit insane like his best friend. 

"Yeah. Just remember I can tear your boy limb from limb. Just because she can handle it doesn't mean she should. Pray your kid fixes it or fucks off. " It’s the truth—poor Penthus was just an example of Dionysus’ contradictory behavior. Ruthless punishments were like a walk in the park for your father. A jilted noise escapes Hermes's throat as if his own truth was trying to claw its way up his esophagus. The future of humanity rests on the shoulders of his favorite son, and for once, the messenger god is still---in fear? Guilt?

His thoughts are still trying to catch up with the rest of his body, but as he watches the door shut softly behind you, his winged shoes start to flap to signal his imminent departure.

“He's a good boy. He knows the worth of being loved by the right person at the right time. If he’s anything like me, he’ll cherish it while it lasts,” Hermes smiles as he fades from view, “and if he’s not like me at all—he’ll make sure it’s forever. But it looks like we’ll be in-laws, bestie!”

Mr. D groans, waving him off and conjuring another glass of ambrosia—when he walks in to rejoin everyone for the show, his boys are killing it on the musical glasses. He surveys the crowd, watching Luke Castellan only have eyes for you even in this dark crowded room.

“Shit.”

—

Nights on Olympus are prettier than what you’re used to. The stars are much closer than they would be if you were still on Earth, and they act as a natural nightlamp hanging over the enchanted ceiling of the ballroom you and your kids occupy for your one night stay. Yawning into your fist, you spot Charlie Beckendorf who’s already fallen asleep directly on top of his sleeping bag, sweatshirt on backwards and tennis shoes still on. Offering to take the last thirty minutes of his shift after watching him nod off earlier against a marble column while doing everything in your power to try to fall asleep was a no-brainer. But now that you were actually wanting to stay awake yourself, your eyelids didn’t seem to want to cooperate. 

Figures. Nothing you ever wanted has ever happened the way you wished for.

Sleep pricks at the corner of your eyes like dust from a sandstorm—presumably Hypnos forcing a hand on you getting rest. Here on Olympus he’s only a few doors away, after all.You rub your knuckles into the sockets of your eyes quite unkindly, hoping it’ll do the job. Even blinking is taking an added effort.

Patting your own cheek lightly to stimulate your senses, you cross your arms and decide to take another lap around the room. The rubber of your boots clomp louder with every shaky step and—

Tap-tap. Tap. T-tap.

D is rapping his knuckles against one of the glass doors on the perimeter like he’s playing the drums.

“Shhhh!”

Arms outstretched, you slip past rows of sleeping children, narrowly missing stretched out arms and fallen backpacks as you glare at him, “Are you trying to wake up all of Olympus?”

He looks at you with amusement, rumpled clothing and looking like a tiny, angry raccoon. You must’ve forgotten to take off your eyeliner, but he doesn’t mention it.

He brandishes two cigarettes in his hand and nods toward a door he left ajar leading onto the sprawling, wrap-around patio. And you swear you start floating towards him like an enticed cartoon character—surely you’re dreaming. 

Is there even a designated smoking area on Olympus?

“How long have you known?” 

The words almost slur out of your mouth as you swipe at his fist like a man starved—Mr.D can’t tell what exactly you’re asking. He’s known you’ve smoked since he found ash in the windowsill of his office. He’d known you and Luke have been having problems since you both started to sit at the opposite sides of the room during counselor meetings. Some things about you are harder to catch onto than others, and Mr. D is known for always being a little late to the party.

Dionysus, the god, was a late arrival to the Pantheon. Him as a father, he’s often late to discerning the happenings in his daughter’s life.  But he’s also known that boy has loved you long before he drunkenly stumbled onto his porch. Could smell it off of him— love makes people do crazy things after all. Out of all of your partners, he always thought the golden boy was just as bad—if not worse than you, gods willing. But you two were good kids, and the thought makes him chuckle, “I’ve always been able to read you, kiddo. I get there eventually.”

“Besides when I first showed up at your doorstep.”

“Shock of my life, actually. And that says a lot. You should be honored,” there’s a stupid smile on your father’s face now as he looks out onto the darkened horizon, glittering city lights on the floating mountain top. Olympus has changed in the years he’s been gone from it without him noticing. He looks over to you and realizes you have too—no longer fourteen with your hair sticky from Kool-aid, or multiple sun-tan tattoos. You always liked making a project out of your boredom.

Laughing gruffly—the base of your throat itches and you surface for air sounding like something being strangled. Blame it on the lack of sleep or teenage angst as he so aptly calls your temper tantrums, but he pulls you in to rub your back, leading you further down the walkway with a shushing, soothing coo as you whine, “What if this is the best I can be?”

“You’re nineteen, princess. A hell of a long way to go. To be honest, it gets worse as the years pass.”

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuck,” you groan, smacking your head against the cool marble. “That's like a blink for you. For me it feels like I’m constantly getting off on the wrong foot. How do you do it?”

He sighs and looks at you—and all of a sudden you see your father’s age in the way he grimaces. Left to do the dirty work, the things the gods don’t want to talk about, meant to endure because every ion of his existence has reeked of resilience. 

Because it’s what’s expected of him. 

You see the resemblance now.

His wrinkles are prominent and eyebags are heavy when he doesn’t fortify the image of a silly asinine man as he lets it all melt away in front of you.

You light a cigarette and puff life into the lit end to burn the other one, breathing out and handing it over. Smoke billows around the two of you as you lean against the marble railing—-but nothing has ever been so clear. It rolls through your lungs, warming you inside and out. You lean your head against his shoulder.

“I think you could shake this whole place up if you wanted to. Never met a more stubborn kid in my life,” your dad mutters, jostling when you elbow him, “I mean it. For a lack of better words, you’re a once in a lifetime kind of girl.” He’s not looking at you, but the sentiment wavers in the air and settles slowly until you learn to appreciate it. 

“You mean that?”

D has had a share of his own struggles, from being ejected from his mother and birthed from Zeus’ thigh, to being curb stomped by Hera herself, and of course the occasional trip to the Underworld. Suddenly your life pales in comparison. 

“Get that look off your face and stop thinking so badly of yourself. Life is not a dress rehearsal—just give it your best. I'll be in the wings for as long as you need me,” he swallows, “If you want that. I’m the only one dealing with this prison sentence, anyway.”

“I would like that.”

The god scratches his neck before dragging his Birkenstocks toward the door, swiveling to point at you, “Get to bed. You've got an early morning tomorrow.”

“I know. Is that an order?” 

“Yeah, twerp,” he mutters, lingering by the glass, “Quitting cold turkey is never fun. Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end. I've always been more of the type to go and get it myself though.”

“Cold turkey,” you repeat, nodding distantly. 

Letting go means to accept that you let it in. And if you’re not ready to let it go, fight for it. 

For a bunch of wordweavers, you both suck at talking to each other. It must be an Olympus thing to talk in riddles, but you’ve never been deterred by a challenge. Your fragmented conversation means a lot more than he’ll ever know. With a newfound appreciation for your dad, you smile and take a few puffs of the cigarette, taking a seat against the wall to let everything sink in. The comfortable weight of nicotine in your lungs lulls you to sleep, a momentary reprieve from everything. 

You swear you shut your eyes for just a second. Just a moment—to rest them a tiny bit.

And Luke slips out the glass doors in the other direction towards the throne room without you noticing.

When you wake up, it’ll all be over.

—

It’s snowing by the time Luke comes back. Biggest day of his life—something he’s been waiting for for months now, and it was just too goddamn easy.

And yeah, Luke understood that it is so irrevocably wrong to steal from the gods. 

But then why was it so easy?

Of course, it was all thanks to you. You don’t know it, but you helped the pieces fall into their perfect places. Keeping you up last night with the fight and leaving you to your own devices all day kept you indifferent enough about him to not notice the smaller details—him switching the night shift schedule around to his liking and making you the only obstacle between him and the Master Bolt and the Helm of Darkness (well, Ares was too, but onto more important things).

Everything happens for a reason, right? 

Getting on your last nerve has always been easy, and though he hates seeing you cry—it almost makes him feel guilty that there’s a certain thrill that soars through him when you two fight. You love him like how you argue, with an unbridled passion he loves to sink his teeth into.

And he loves you. It’s as simple and as complicated as that. So despite the tear in his side that makes him clench his teeth, his first objective after his completed mission is to sidle over to your slumped form with a smile. Luke slings his jacket over your body and wraps his arm to bring your head against his shoulder. The grounds are weather-protected like at camp, yet a few stray snowflakes still catch onto your hair. You stir, “Lu?”

“I’m here. Not leaving you.”

If salvation could manifest itself into something akin to human form, perhaps it would still look like a god. Being saved is a feeling unfamiliar to Luke—the only person he was always sure could save your ass was himself.  But he wants this, you nestled against him for as long as you want, until his arms ache and pins and needles ravage his body. Luke knows he would crawl to the ends of this earth and the next if it means he’ll be with you. 

Gambling with fate will be worth it if he can find a way to make this love last forever. 

This has to work. You did what you had to do, he thinks.

Sniffing, he kisses your forehead and his jacket faintly smells of smoke. Snowflakes dot his eyelashes and he rubs your arms to make sure you’re warm, “Let you sleep longer. Looks like you needed it.”

“How long have I been asleep?” you say groggily. His thumbs wipe at your eyelids gently with the hem of a fresh shirt, “Don’t worry. I took care of everything.”

It makes him grimace, emotional manipulation and a quick escape—hello Hermes!

“I’m tired, Luke.”

He sighs, and you turn to him, the both of you knee to knee, slowly being illuminated by a blanket of cool toned hues from the rising sun, “I know. Let me make it better, baby.”

Wistfully, you tangle your fingers with his in the space between you as if sealing a vow. 

”Every future I envision includes you with me. I need you to know that.” 

Overwhelmed by the events of the night, hell, these past few months—Luke starts to cry. A single rivulet cascading on the cheek adjacent to his scar and you catch it by pressing your lips to his jaw.

“Could you still love me?”

Inching closer, he feels as if you’re not close enough even when you’re breathing against the nape of his neck like this and you mumble, “You’re saying that like I ever stopped, angel.” The line blurs with each breath he takes—to earn a spot to walk amongst the gods, to live a completely ordinary life, or to be stuck in the strawberry fields of Delphini Farms forever. Luke was never awarded the privilege to want for himself before he met you, the absolution to all his wrongdoings. He can feel the quaking of your jaw under his fingertips as he slowly turns you to face him and all you have left to give him is a shattered breath.

“No matter what?”

Pressing his lips to yours as an apology feels like being saved. Lightly, until he pours himself into it and you relent, until the only thing that matters to you is that he’s with you now. Luke would merge your souls right now if he could—a tangled mess of eight limbs and head to head and everything is as it should be.

“Even if you don’t sit with me on the bus,” you smirk. He scoffs, kissing you harder and locking his lips with yours feverishly before resting much gentler ones against your tired eyes, “Oh don’t worry. Can’t get rid of me that easily, Trouble.”

A new day breaks on the horizon the longer you stay out there. But he takes these last final moments and keeps them under lock and key for safekeeping. You leave Olympus in a few hours, and by then there’ll be no time for regrets—his perfect crime with his perfect partner.

—

"I weep because you cannot save people. You can only love them." -Hanya Yanagihara

[nakidoriii]

I’ll Take You (Part Two)

Alucard x Reader Mini Series

WARNING: SMUT ||| MDNI

“You’re not afraid?” His breath hitting the side of your neck, jump starting your pulse. Scared was the last emotion you felt. You wanted him.

“If you wanted to do anything, you would’ve done it in that alleyway.” You whisper back.

“What if I like playing with my food?” Alucard teases.

“Then play with it.” You respond as you tilt your head to the side and reveal your neck to him. Alucard raises his brows, shocked by your actions. He grabs your hand and leads you outside of the tavern.

Next thing you know, your harp laid on the ground as you’re back was being pressed up against a tree. Alucard’s hands exploring your body as he takes a long lick up your neck; causing a budding warmth in between your thighs. Are you really about to fuck a vampire in the woods in the middle of nightfall? Absolutely. Soft whimpers fell from your mouth as he kissed your neck. The adrenaline that raced through you was unmatched.

“Fuck.” You moan under your breath as he kissed his way down your body.

“This is the only devouring of humans that I do.” He slyly says as he makes his way under your dress, hooking your right leg on his shoulder so that your most sensitive part is exposed to him. Wasting no time, he slowly drags his tongue through your folds making you squirm. Digging his nails into the back our thighs to hold you still so he can devour you.

“Mmmm, Adrian, you’re such a good boy.” Moans falling out of your mouth like water as he sucked on your clit. Why was that so tantalizing to hear? Getting praise from you like that got his cock bulging through his pants. He couldn’t help but moan into you, the vibration making your eyes roll back. His chin smeared with your sticky wetness, he really couldn’t get enough. He loved the taste of you. His amber eyes looking up at you for a reaction as he pushed a finger into your soaked entrance.

“Mmm, you’re so warm…nice and wet too, Y/N. Cum for me.” He hums in delight as he curls his fingers inside you. You push back his hair, as you grind on his face, getting closer to release. Your body felt so hot compared to his. A knot begins to form in your stomach as he kept the same pace for you.

“Adrian, ah fuck yes.” Your moans high pitched and pinched as you feel yourself coming undone. He held you in place and watched your body contort for him. The sight of you unraveling on his fingers and face made him so hard. You were a vision like this. As you come down, he slides his fingers out and licks them. Towering over you once again, giving you same look a predator gives its prey.

You untie his sword holster from around his waist, faster than you’ve done anything before. You rub your fingers over the bulge in his tight pants making him squirm. You pull his pants down, revealing his perfect dick. Pre cum oozing from his pink tip, he wanted you more than anything. You attempt to get on your knees but instead you get lifted up in one swift motion. Your legs wrapped around his torso as he planted you between him and the tree once again. He pressed his forehead agnist yours as he breathes out, “I want you, Y/N. Let me have you.”

The tip of his cock lightly brushing aganist your warmth sent you both in frenzy. You whisper the words, “Adrian, take me.” He lined up his dick and slowly thrusted into your wetness. Your eyes rolling to the back your head as he stretched you out in the best way. Both of you moaning and holding each other tighter as he slowly thrusts in and out of you.

“Oh, you’re so warm. This is intoxicating, fuck.” He growled as you ran your fingers down his clothed back. He picks up the pace as soon as he hears your validating moans. To him, your moans were just as beautiful as when you serenade an audience. But the sounds you made in this moment were all for him, and only for him. You didn’t know what was hotter, him holding you up like you weighed nothing and fucking you or the sweet nothings he was whispering in your ear as he worked up to his orgasm.

“You’re making such a mess on me, Y/N. You’re so wet…Uh-Mmm and I love it so-fuck-ing much.” He moaned inbetween thrusts.

You were about to cum again and he knew it too. He couldn’t sing but he was good at using his voice in other ways. He knew what to say and do to get you right where he wanted you. All five of your senses overstimulated because of him, which leads you to another toe curling orgasm. Your walls tightening around him, giving him no choice but to cum too.

“Thaaaat’s it, darling.” He moans as he fills you up with thick ropes of his cum.

You couldn’t even begin to process what just happened. He slowly pulls out of you, while you both catch your breath. Pulls his pants up and adjust his coat. You lift up his sword and holster, looking at it. He places his thumb on your chin making you look up at him. He gives you a quick kiss on the lips and says, ”I’ll be taking that” as he grabs the holster from your hands.

“Thank you for not sucking my blood.” You tease him while you fix your dress.

He lets out a small laugh and says, “it’s the least I could do.”

——————————————————————————

Click here for part one!

When I tell you I am OVERWHELMED by the response this got in less than two days 😭 thank you guys SO much!!! I literally joined tumblr as a writer a month or two ago and this is the first thing that’s gotten some traction!!!! so thank you!!! leave a comment if I should continue this. It was only suppose to be two parts but yall are really going off lol

Please do not alter or steal my writings ©️

[mommyownsmee]

hello! i've been a silent reader and i actually don't know if you take requests but can you do a post where the sub uses their safeword then proceed to some aftercare. thank you!

- 🐶

[Hii! Do you want to claim the emoji? I do take requests, and this one was beautiful to write. Thank you for your message!]

[TW: USE OF SAFEWORD/ TRAFFIC LIGHT SYSTEM; AFTERCARE]

Holding you

The air between us is thick, charged with the kind of tension that makes my skin tingle, that makes every slow drag of my nails against your skin feel ten times more intense. You’re beneath me, wrists bound with silk, your body already ruined from everything I’ve done to you. You’re a mess—flushed, trembling, so beautifully wrecked.

I tilt my head, watching you with amusement. “You’re shaking, baby,” I murmur, dragging my fingers down your stomach, teasing just above where you need me most. “Are you overwhelmed?”

You whimper, nodding frantically, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps. “Y-yes, Mommy.”

I smirk, pressing my palm flat against your lower belly, pinning you down. “Then tell me,” I purr, voice low and intoxicating, “should I stop?”

Your eyes widen, panic flashing across your face. “No,” you blurt out, desperate, shaking your head. “No, please, don’t stop. I need it—I need you.”

Oh, you sound so sweet when you beg. So desperate, so pliant, like you’ll do anything just to keep me touching you. It makes something dark curl in my chest, something possessive and hungry. I trail my fingers lower, barely ghosting over your soaked cunt, watching the way your hips buck, the way you gasp sharply at even the slightest contact.

“You need me, hmm?” I hum, tilting your chin up so you have to look at me. “Need me to use you? To take exactly what I want, however I want?”

You let out a choked whimper, nodding, your lips parting as if you’re about to speak—then stopping, too wrecked to form words.

“Speak, baby,” I command, tightening my grip on your chin. “Tell me.”

“I— I need you to take me,” you manage, voice barely above a whisper. “Please, Mommy, please use me. I—”

I don’t let you finish. My hand wraps around your throat, just enough pressure to make you feel it, to remind you who’s in control. “Good girl,” I murmur, pressing a kiss against your jaw, trailing lower, biting down softly. “You’ll take what I give you. Nothing more.”

You nod frantically, your entire body taut, every muscle wound tight. You want it, I can feel it in the way you tremble beneath me. I keep pushing, my voice sharper now, my hands rougher, taking you exactly where I want you—until something shifts.

At first, it’s subtle. A hesitation in your breath. A tension in your muscles that feels different. The way your fingers twitch against the restraints, not in pleasure, but in something else.

I slow.

“Baby?” My tone changes immediately—still firm, still in control, but laced with something softer.

I feel it before I hear it. The subtle shift in your breath, the way your body tenses beneath me—not in pleasure, not in anticipation, but in something deeper, something that pulls you away from me instead of toward me. You take a shuddering breath, your eyes squeezing shut. I wait. And then, you whisper it, so soft, so small, but I catch it immediately.

“Red.”

The second the word leaves your lips, the scene shatters. The air shifts. My dominance, my hunger, the relentless need to push you—it all vanishes in an instant.

I stop instantly. No hesitation, no questioning. I let go of you immediately, my hands gentle now, soothing instead of taking. My hands leave your wrists, my weight lifts off of you, giving you space, giving you air. The heat of the moment dissipates in an instant, replaced by something far more important—you.

“Baby?” My voice is softer now, no longer the commanding edge it held just moments before. My fingers ghost over your skin, waiting for a sign, waiting to know how to touch you, if you want me to. Your chest rises and falls too fast, your hands clenching and unclenching against the sheets.

I only watch for a few moments as your chest rises and falls in rapid breaths, your body still tense, still trying to catch up; until I decide to cup your cheek, brushing my thumb over your skin, tilting your face toward mine so you can see me, so you know I’m here.

“Let’s get these off,” I murmur, carefully undoing the silk restraints, while looking at you and massaging your wrists gently as soon as they’re free.

Your lips part like you want to say something, but your breath is shaky, your throat tight. Instead, you just nod, your eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“Look at me, baby,” I whisper, my forehead nearly pressing against yours. “You’re safe. You did so good.”

Your entire body is trembling, still caught between the remnants of intensity and the deep, shuddering relief of stopping. I can feel it in the way your fingers grasp at me, in the way your chest rises and falls too quickly, like you’re trying to ground yourself but can’t quite find your way back yet.

You’re slipping—spiraling into something too much. And I won’t let you fall alone.

“I’ve got you,” I murmur again, rocking you slightly, letting my body be something steady for you to lean against. “You’re safe. Just breathe, baby.”

The moment my hands settle on you, the tension cracks. The sound that escapes you is more than just a sob—it’s a breaking, a release of something heavy and overwhelming, something that had built too fast, too sharp, until it cracked. You bury your face deeper into my neck, and I let you, my arms tightening around you, shielding you from everything except the feeling of me here, solid, unwavering.

I press a soft kiss to your temple, lingering, letting you feel the warmth of it, the safety in it. Your hands fist into my shirt, desperate, your breathing uneven, but the tension in your body isn‘t beginning to ease yet. Slowly, gently, I let one hand slip into your hair, massaging your scalp, coaxing you further away from the edge.

“It’s okay,” I soothe, my fingers tracing slow, grounding patterns on your skin. “You did everything right. I’ve got you.”

I don’t let you fall. I gather you into my arms, pulling you close, tucking you against my chest. My lips press to your temple, my fingers weaving through your hair, stroking, soothing.

“I’m here,” I whisper, cupping your face gently, grounding you. “You’re safe. You’re with me.”

I whisper soft reassurances, keeping my voice low and steady as I gently stroke my hands down your arms, over your back, pressing warm, deliberate touches into your skin. You’re still clinging to me, still pressing into my warmth like you’re afraid I might disappear if you let go.

“Shh, sweetheart,” I murmur, rocking you gently. “I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.”

You cling to me, fingers twisting in my shirt, pressing your face into my neck like you need to anchor yourself in me. I hold you tighter, wrapping around you, protecting you from the weight of whatever had pushed you too far.

I feel the tremors beneath my hands, the way you still struggle to catch your breath. My hand moves in slow, deliberate strokes down your back, up your arms, anything to remind you that I’m here, that you’re safe, that nothing else matters but this moment.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, pressing another kiss to your temple. “You did the right thing. You did so well.”

You nod against me, but it’s shaky, uncertain. I can feel the tension still lingering, the vulnerability weighing heavy in the air. My grip on you tightens, grounding you, holding you steady.

Your lips part, but the words stick in your throat, a choked, broken sound escaping instead. I hush you gently, stroking down your spine.

“Don’t rush,” I whisper. “Just stay with me.”

I shift us slightly, adjusting until I can keep you cuddled in my lap properly, holding you tucked against me as I guide the blankets over us. You’re still shivering, still small and fragile in my arms, and I won’t let go until you’re ready.

“What do you need, baby?” I ask softly, my voice steady, waiting for you to lead the way now.

You swallow hard, your lips parting, but nothing comes out at first. I don’t push. I let you take your time, knowing that even forming words right now is a challenge.

You take a shaky breath, and for a moment, I don’t think you’ll answer. Then, finally, in a voice so small it almost breaks my heart, you whisper, “Water.”

“Of course,” I say immediately, easing you back onto the bed with careful hands. I tuck the blankets around you, making sure you’re warm before slipping away, only for a moment.

I move quickly, but not too quickly—I don’t want you to feel like I’m leaving. When I return, I sit beside you, helping you sit up just enough to sip from the glass, my free hand never leaving your skin. I need you to feel me here, need you to know I’m still here.

You take slow sips, your fingers still shaking slightly. I watch you carefully, searching your eyes, tracking every micro-expression, every flicker of emotion in your eyes. I want to make sure you’re coming back to yourself.

“Better?” I ask, studying you.

You nod weakly, but I see the lingering vulnerability, the way your body is still wound too tight. So I don’t ask—I just hold you. I pull you back into my arms, wrapping myself around you, anchoring you in warmth, in safety. You let out a tiny, broken sigh against my chest, and I feel your body soften, just a little.

“You did so well,” I murmur against your hair, my fingers tracing light, grounding patterns on your arm. “I’m so proud of you for using your safeword.”

Your breath stutters against my neck. I feel the way your body shakes slightly—something unspoken lingering there. Shame.

I won’t let it take hold.

I tilt your chin up, making you look at me, my thumb brushing away the dampness on your cheek. “There is never shame in taking care of yourself,” I say firmly. “That’s what your safeword is for. You did exactly what you were supposed to do.”

You blink up at me, something breaking behind your eyes. They well up again, but this time, it’s not from fear. Not from panic. And then, finally, I see it—relief.

You swallow hard, nodding, your fingers curling into my shirt again, gripping tight like you don’t want to let go. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice raw.

I press a kiss to your forehead, lingering there, letting you feel the warmth, the unwavering presence I will always offer you.

“Always,” I whisper, tightening my arms around you. “I’ve got you, baby. You’re safe. Just rest. I’m not letting go.”

[brenwritesss]

I LOVE UR WORKKKK 💕💕 would u be down to write angst for emily or kate? im a suckerrrr for angsty fics 🙏🙏 tysm!

Vegas Baby

Kate Martin x reader

Summary: Kate gets drafted to the Aces, making you determine if moving to Las Vegas or staying in Iowa is the right decision.

a/n: not edited

“With the 18th pick in the 2024 WNBA draft, the Las Vegas Aces select Kate Martin, University of Iowa.” 

Your eyes widened at the screen before you as your girlfriend stood up from her seat in the crowd. Your sister latched a hand onto your shoulder while her jaw dropped at those simple yet groundbreaking words. You didn’t have time to react, slapping your own hand over your mouth as you watched Kate walk up to the stage to accept her jersey. “Holy shit.” 

Tears formed along your waterline and you broke out into a smile that was almost bigger than Kate’s. Your sister started shaking your shoulder. “Your girlfriend’s going to fucking Vegas!”

You remember moments before she got drafted; nonstop texts in your phone while you both supported Caitlin as she got drafted #1 overall. Kate was nervous to say the least, telling you how all she wanted was an opportunity. The chance to get her name called and to walk across that stage. It was all she had been talking about for months. There had always been a part of you that knew she was going to get drafted. You had spent the last three years at Iowa watching her, supporting her, cheering her on and all you wanted was for her to get that opportunity that she had been wishing for all season.

My love 💗

Babe, they asked me to switch seats

I’m closer to the aisle now

Idk what this means but I’m nervous

What should I do?

As a joke, you had replied “baby, you’re about to get drafted.” Then she did actually get drafted. Maybe you had a way of telling the future? Is this the universe’s way of telling you that you should ditch getting your major in business and start a career in fortune telling instead? 

You continued watching the rest of the WNBA draft with your hands shaking in your lap. After your initial freak out over Kate getting drafted had occurred, you didn’t waste any time in texting in texting your girlfriend to congratulate her.

“Congratulations baby I’m so so so proud of you.”

Kate didn’t respond instantly as you had expected, but a couple of hours later, you received a phone call from her. “Oh my God, babe.”

You immediately laughed into the phone, “how is my new Ace doing?”

“I don’t even know. There’s so many thoughts going through my head right now. Did you see me?”

You could practically feel her nerves through the phone. “Of course I did. I saw every second. I’m so proud of you, Kate, this is amazing.”

“Thank you,” she said, taking a pause. “I feel really good about this, you know? Everything is falling into place and working out. Knowing that I have your support, babe, it means everything to me.”

“You know I’ll always support you no matter what. You’re going to be doing great things in Vegas, I just know it.” You couldn’t help but tear up again, forcing the tears not to fall so that Kate wouldn’t hear it.

“It’s going to be hard leaving Iowa but this is an incredible opportunity. I’ll be playing with the fucking Aces. Are you joking? The fucking Las Vegas Aces.”

“They’re getting a good one,” you smiled. “When are you coming back from New York?”

There was a few moments of silence coming from her end. Silence that stirred the smallest bit of anxiety within you. Silence that made you feel the smallest bit of uncertainty. “Within the next couple of days for sure. I have to pack up my place and get everything back home in order before I go to Vegas.”

“Right, yeah,” you agreed. There was a part of you that felt almost hurt that she didn’t mention seeing you or coming back to you. Was it stupid to feel that way?

“Hey, I gotta go,” she spoke softly into the phone. “But I’ll call you later if you’re awake. I’ll see you soon, baby. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Seconds after, Kate hung up the phone, leaving you sitting in your shared apartment that she would soon leave behind. You just hope you wouldn’t be part of that. She couldn’t leave you behind right?

Kate was back in Iowa, curled up with you on the couch two days after the draft. When you had picked her up from the airport, you had barely left her side. Not because of your previous fears from draft night, but because even though she was only gone for a few days, you missed her terribly. You lifted your head up from her chest, looking up at her. “When do you leave for Vegas?” you ask her.

Kate looks down at you, softly kissing your temple. “In a couple weeks for training camp. Why?”

You shrug your shoulders. “Just wondering.” You debated on continuing the conversation, having so many questions in your head about the future of your relationship. Deciding against keeping quiet, you continue, “we should talk about some stuff, Kate.”

Kate shifted from beneath you and leaned up more against the couch. Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked at you, not pulling her hand away from your waist. “What’s wrong?”

“We should talk about you moving to Vegas.” You take in her expression, watching as her eyes darted from your eyes to around your face. Before the draft, you and Kate had always speculated what your lives together would look like after college. You both had discussed that if she chose to continue her basketball career professionally, you would find a way to go with her, leaving your life behind in Iowa. The more you thought about it, the harder it would be to leave your friends, family, and your school.

Kate nodded, “yeah, we should probably talk about where we’re staying. I mean, we’re going to have to pack and everything but it shouldn’t be too hard.”

That’s when it hit you. Kate was planning on you moving to Las Vegas with her. And in a way, it felt like you were stuck, torn between wanting to be with Kate but not wanting to leave your life and everything you had worked for, behind. 

“Kate, baby there’s a lot more that goes into this than just me and you moving across the country. I just started a new job and all of my friends and family are here.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to come with me?” Kate asked you, looking almost insulted at the idea.

You shook your head. “No, no that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that we need to talk more about it and figure it out from there. I can’t just tell you I’m moving with you when there’s so many things that tie me down here.”

Kate’s grip on your waist loosened slightly. Slightly enough to have you notice it. “It’s either you want to move or you don’t. It shouldn’t be this difficult.”

You were taken back by her response, acknowledging the tension in her words. “Having to reroute my entire life in a matter of a couple weeks would never be fucking easy.”

“What about all the times we would be in my bed and we would talk about being together?” Kate finally let her hands fall from your waist. “You said you’d follow me wherever if I got drafted.”

“Kate, that was us dreaming. In a perfect world, yes, I would follow you wherever you wanted to go even if it were the pits of hell. But this is not a perfect world, and we have to look at the reality of this situation.”

“So then why say all of that shit?” Kate’s voice raised slightly which caused you to move back on the couch, putting space between you two. “So all of that shit is meaningless then?”

You widen your eyes. “No of course not because I meant it when I said that I wanted to be with you for the rest of my life. You’re not listening to me.”

Kate rolled her eyes, standing up from the couch for the first time since the conversation started. “You always fucking do this, Y/n.”

“Do what?”

“Say that I’m not listening to you when it’s the only thing I’m doing. Do you think that this whole situation isn’t hard on me too? Two weeks ago, I thought my basketball career was over and now I have the chance to play in a league with some of the most talented athletes in the world. Do you not see how big of a deal this is and how I want your support in this?” Kate was walking back in forth in front of you, her tone of voice catching you off guard.

You stood up, trying to get her to look at you. “That’s fucking ridiculous that you would even suggest that I don’t support you, Kate. I have been your biggest fan since I met you and you want to tell me that I’m not supporting you? Why should I have to prove my support by moving across the country and beginning a life that I am not familiar with. You’re making me sound selfish.”

“It wouldn’t be unfamiliar because you’ll have me.”

“And what would happen when I don’t have you anymore?”

Kate froze in her spot, turning to face you. “What?”

“What would happen when you decide that I’m tying you down or becoming too much. Leaving my whole life here, it’s just not worth the risk.”

“That’s fucking bullshit and you know it,” Kate yelled, looking down at you. “Do you think that if I was going to break up with you, I’d want you to move to Vegas with me? And do you really think I could be capable of doing something like that when you’re the only person I can see going through this next chapter with?”

You throw your hands up in the air, trying desperately to reason with her. “Do you care at all what happens to me? Do you care that I’m giving up so much for you?”

Kate was practically pulling at her hair at this point. She rolled up the sleeves of her hoodie before she brushed her hands over her face. “You’re acting like I’m making you move to a different country. Obviously, you have the fucking choice to stay here if you want. I’m not going to force to move to Vegas with me,” she paused. “I assumed you were going to, considering that’s what you have been telling me for months. If you knew you were going to stay here, why would you give me that false hope?”

“Because I thought that up until now, I wouldn’t question leaving with you. But now that it’s actually happening, I have to think about the reality and it scares me.”

Kate tightens her mouth into a small line, making you know that what you just said went straight to her heart. “So it’s not enough knowing that I would take care of you? I wouldn’t just drop you off in Vegas and leave you there you know. I don’t see a future where I’m not taking care of you and putting you first.”

You cross your arms. Everything in you wanted to believe Kate, but you’ve heard the horror stories of what would happen to girls who dated professional athletes. Maybe you shouldn’t have let this go on for this long. Maybe you should have listened to your head instead of your heart. “Do you really believe that?”

“Believe what?”

“That you’d put me first?”

Kate’s jaw almost dropped at your question and in that moment, you wanted to take it back. “This is bullshit.”

Without saying anything else, she slips on her shoes, grabbing her keys, and heads for the door.

You wanted to reach out to her. To tell her to stay and talk it out, but deep down you knew that there was only a matter of time before the magnetic pull between you two came crashing down.

[peterm4rker]

(𐙚⋆.˚) late night drives

🕸✮⋆ [taeyong x reader] ...୨♡୧... wc. 800 w. none! fluff ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

the weight of the dark that surrounded you felt crushing; suffocating as you tossed and turned around the bed, looking for a position that would miraculously turn off the voices that overlapped in your head and reminded you of every single one of your worries. sweat seemed to pool at the nape of your neck, creating an uncomfortable feeling that you just couldn’t shake off no matter how many times you attempted to wipe it away; a moist feeling clinging onto the flimsy tank top you had already changed into in face of the heat.

an exasperated sigh fell off your lips as your eyes opened abruptly, all too awake to have been forcefully closed for the past three hours. you reached for your phone that sat on the nightstand, quickly bracing yourself for the overbearing light of the screen before turning it on. the picture that welcomed you made your heart ease for a moment, your boyfriend’s smiling face and starry eyes greeting you like a warm hug. you stared at it for a few seconds before unblocking the device and doing the only thing that could bring you comfort in moments: talking - or attempting to - to your boyfriend.

ty track 🗣️

tell me youre awake rn please please please

dont prove i'm right💃🕺💃🕺

istg can you call?

no answer was needed when your phone began vibrating, indicating the awaiting call.

“hey baby” taeyong greeted you once you answered, a smile evident in his tired voice. “what are you doing up so late?”

“i can’t sleep,” you sighed, a pout taking place on your lips. “i’ve been trying for hours, i even took pills and everything.”

“oh, i’m sorry, love, that sucks” he spoke once again. it was incredible, really, how only his voice could make your irritation dissipate in a matter of seconds. 

“what are you doing awake?” you asked in turn, hugging a pillow closer to your chest.

“i was finishing up that song i’ve been working on, i think it turned out pretty good.” he smiled, making your chest beam with pride. 

“i know it did, they always do.” you smiled.

“i have a perfect muse.” the boy answered, his words as heart fluttering as always.

“stop, you’re making me blush,” you spoke, eliciting a giggle from the other line.

“sure i am,” he laughed softly, followed by a couple of seconds of silence before he spoke up again. “get ready, yeah? i’ll pick you up in 10 and we can go on a drive.”

his offer was tempting, even as you looked down to catch the poor excuse for clothes you were wearing. 

“sure, i’ll be ready,” you smiled, waiting for his confirmation to hang up the call and stand up to put on a pair of shorts and brush your teeth.

the ten minutes you waited passed by agonizingly slowly, making it seem like an eternity before you heard a knock on your door. you swung it open after checking the peephole and confirming it was your boyfriend.

“hey there, come here often?” the pink haired boy asked, making you roll your eyes as you closed the door behind you and walked up to envelop him in your arms.

“pretty often, i would say.” you muttered, basking on the feeling of his strong arms surrounding your frame, pulling you further into his chest as he left a kiss on your forehead.

“let’s go put you to sleep,” taeyong muttered, breaking apart from you only to open the door of his car, climbing onto his own seat after having secured you in yours. “want to listen to some music?”

you shook your head in response, getting comfortable on the seat as you looked at him. “tell me about your day.” the boy smiled and nodded, beginning to drive as he told you about everything he had done ever since he woke up. you listened intently to his soothing voice - for about five minutes - before your eyes began to feel heavy and your mind became hazy, tenderly leading you to a peaceful slumber.

taeyong looked at you from the corner of his eye after it was silent for a  little too long. his lips formed a smile as his heart seemed to burst out in warmth at the sight of you all cuddled up and passed out on the passenger seat of his car.

‘works like a charm’ he thought, slowing down so he could grab the hoodie he had left on the back seat and drape it around your body. his unoccupied hand found its way to one of your own, interlacing your fingers as he turned around the block directly to your house.

★ blue's corner ;; happy 1/27 !! i wanted to post one of the boys and get out of my writers block so this is my official attempt to do that (also an apology for the last ty post). i miss him more than i can describe, TY COME HOME THE KIDS MISS YOU also thank you to my babies vicky and my wife for beta reading<333 ★ taglist ;; @neozon3nha @winwintea @spacejip @dudekiss3r @yizhrt @lyvhie @morkiee @astrasng @taroddori ★ back to the masterlist. ★ please do not copy, adapt or steal any of the content !!! ★ divider by @roseraris

© peterm4rker, 2025

[gingerteafairy]

abductor hacker machine (dave lizewski x reader)

You’re Dave’s gym crush. He’s never skipping leg day again.

tags n warnings: college!dave, language, highly suggestive, mentions of handjob, flirting, gym terms. word count: 2.3k

Dave had arrived at the gym early, excitement buzzing through him because it was back and arms day. The gym wasn’t too crowded, and Todd was just coming in—it felt like the perfect day for an upper-body workout.

“Hey, man. Feeling good today,” Todd greeted him with a quick high five before heading over to stretch.

“Yeah…” Dave nodded, walking to the pull-up bar. He grabbed it, letting his body hang as he stretched his spine, easing into a light isometric hold.

“Dude, I don’t know how you even manage pull-ups. That’s the hardest thing I’ve ever tried,” Todd said, his voice tinged with genuine admiration as Dave began the exercise with surprising finesse. His muscles flexed and tightened with each smooth motion, displaying a control that came from dedication.

That’s the sight you walked into when you entered the gym. The hot nerd was effortlessly pulling himself up on the bar, his form flawless, his focus unshakable. You couldn’t look away, watching until he finally finished, wiping sweat off his brow with the hem of his shirt. When your eyes met, Dave froze for a moment, then followed you with his gaze as you walked toward the squat rack. It was leg day for you.

He didn’t have a choice—he had to say something to his gym crush.

“Dude, where are you going?” Todd asked, puzzled.

“Uhm…leg press,” Dave replied quickly, his tone distracted as his focus stayed locked on you.

“Someone's not skipping leg day for once,” he shook his head, handing a dumbbell.

He watched you doing your exercise, trying to figure out the best thing to do or say. The best option was to go over to you, so he walked toward you with determined steps—but by the time he got there, you had already finished. Awkwardly, he turned around and headed for the calf machine instead. That was the next best option. Pretending nothing happened, however, was a mistake.

“You're such a loser, Dave Lizewski,” he muttered under his breath, grabbing any random weight to load onto the machine.

“Hi, excuse me.”

Dave could barely believe it when he turned around and saw you standing there. He almost dropped the weight and had to lean on the machine to strike a casual pose. Oh my God, she came over. She’s talking to me. She’s actually here.

“I didn’t catch that. What did you say?” he lied, removing one earbud. Of course, he had heard you. He just wanted to make sure this was real.

“I said hi,” you repeated, pulling out one of your own earbuds.

“Uh… hi. I’m great, and you?” he stammered awkwardly, noticing the slight confusion flicker across your face at his strange response.

“I’m glad you’re good…” you laughed softly, resting your hands on your hips. “Um… how much longer are you going to be on this machine?”

Idiot, idiot, idiot. Of course, it’s about the machine.

“I just started, but… d’you wanna share?” he asked hopefully. However, when you glanced at the amount of weight loaded onto the machine, you immediately decided against it. How on earth is this guy pushing all that weight with his calves?

“No, it’s fine… I’ll wait,” you replied, heading to a corner to check your phone while you waited.

Dave closed his eyes, cursing himself for how poorly the entire interaction had gone. He wiped the sweat from his face, which had only increased after talking to you, and rushed through the exercise with poor form, desperate to finish quickly. Without looking back, he walked away, leaving the machine free for you.

“Fucking idiot, i wanna die” Dave muttered as he walked over to Todd, who was finishing his shoulder workout.

“Hey, dude. Did you talk to her?” Todd asked, grunting as he set his weights down.

“I did, but now I’m gonna have to do every single posterior chain exercise known to man so she doesn’t think i’m a total loser,” Dave blurted, running his hand through his hair. His eyes wandered to you across the gym, finishing your set. “Fuck. I’m never coming back to this gym ever again.”

“Relax, man. She’s probably not even thinking about it,” Todd tried to calm him down, noticing Dave rubbing his forehead and checking his pulse.

“She is. She is, Todd. She's so fucking perfect and I just said do you wanna share like a total moron.” He whimpered, scratching his head.

“So, what’s the plan now? Glutes?” Todd chuckled, but Dave’s eyes lit up.“No… don’t tell me—are you serious?”

“I’m doing everything. It’s important for testosterone production,” Dave mumbled, walking over to the hip abduction machine and staring at it like it was some alien contraption. “Shit… I have no idea how this thing works.”

He sat down, looking around desperately for help—any help—praying for someone to rescue him. “Hey, God. I know i haven't been the best dude on earth, but please. I really need help, i need to do it. Send someone. Anyone. Just don't send a scary dude, please.”

Unfortunately for him, it was you who got there first.

“Just starting?” you inquired, placing your water bottle on the holder.

“Uh… yeah, I… uh, wanna try?” he murmured, blinking in slight panic as he stood up from the machine to let you take over. You smiled, taking the opportunity and settling in to begin your exercise.

And God, Dave had to muster every ounce of self-control not to stare at your legs or the muscles working with precision, he didn't even want to mention the word glutes because it seemed so fucking wrong in this moment. He turned to face the wall instead.

“These atoms are… amazing. Science is really evolving these days!” he blurted to the man next to him, pointing at the wall. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Is it some kind of new cement?”

“It’s plaster,” the guy replied, frowning in confusion before returning to his workout. “Weirdo.”

Dave turned back toward you, forcing himself to focus on your face. But then he saw you finishing and standing to the side. He had no choice now but to actually use the machine. Swallowing hard, he sat down.

“This can’t be that hard,” he whispered to himself, loading the machine with the maximum weight. He tried to open his legs, but the machine didn’t budge an inch.

“Wow, this machine is different, I know it. Heavier than I expected,” he chuckled nervously. You bit your lip to suppress a laugh of your own—it was pretty clear to you that this guy had never touched this machine before.

“Here, lemme help,” you offered, moving closer to him. He froze but nodded, letting you adjust his position.

“Sit back a little and tilt your torso forward,” you instructed, placing your hand lightly on the machine. “Set it to 30. Then, open your legs as wide as you can. You’ll feel better if you keep your glutes really really up, okay?”

“Okay,” he muttered, adjusting the settings. He tried again but barely moved the machine, the faintest clinking sound coming from the weights. She’s going to think I’m so weak. I'm dead. Dead, buried and dusted.

“Want me to show you?” you asked, and before he could think, he nodded. He jumped up, letting you take his place, but instantly regretted it the moment you sat down.

“No… uh, no need to worry about it…” he stuttered, flushing red as you adjusted the weight and got into position.

“I don’t mind helping,” you replied with a small smile, demonstrating the movement with flawless form. “Like this—glutes up and open as wide as possible.”

“Jesus Christ,” Dave squeaked, covering his face to hide his embarrassment and to resist the urge to glance back at you.

“So, you’ll want to do this fifteen times. Watch carefully, so you don’t mess it up,” you explained, your voice teasing, aware of the effect you were having on him. It was clear he was trying his best not to lose his composure, and you couldn’t deny he was adorable.

“Got it. I understand. Amazing. Perfect,” he blurted quickly, stuffing his hand in his pocket as if to shield himself from… whatever was happening internally. And this whatever was his cock awakening every single time you opened your legs and he could see your thighs and especially, the thing between them.

“Great. Want to give it a try?” you asked, standing up and stepping closer to him—closer than strangers typically stood.

“Uh… I, uh…” He took a deep breath, catching the faint scent of your perfume and noticing the sheen of sweat on your forehead. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom. Thank you for everything, the instructions and everything, all. Good… good workout!” And with that, he bolted.

You watched him rush to the locker room, nearly bumping into everyone in his path. He was so adorable. If only you knew his name. As you tried to figure out a way to ask him without it seeming weird, Dave locked himself in a bathroom stall, sitting on the toilet and contemplating his situation. And, to be honest, it wasn’t looking great.

“Shit,” he muttered, glancing around, straining his ears to confirm no one else was in the bathroom, downing his shorts and boxers.

He took a deep breath, touching his erection, whimpering in the exact moment he thought about you and your hands with adorable little calluses from the workout routine, rubbing on his length. His cum spread on your gym top and sweaty face from bouncing on him like a fucking squat session.

“No, I can’t do this.” he murmured, dressing himself once again, sparing the thoughts away.

He left the stall, splashing water on his face and waiting for his body to calm down. Then, he looked at the paper glued to the bathroom mirror with a comic sans writing.

Hey, champ.

Please don't masturbate in the bathroom. It might clog the toilet. Thanks and good exercise!

- beast mode gym support

“you must be kidding me…” He cursed, splashing water to his face once again and looking at the mirror. One guy gave him a once-over, chuckling at his bulge. Embarrassed, Dave frowned and hurried out of the bathroom, only to come face-to-face with you.

“Oh, hi,” you greeted, breaking the silence first and meeting his eyes.

“Hey…” he replied, swallowing hard. “It’s super crowded in there—the men’s room.”

“Yeah…” you agreed, keeping your gaze on him. You wanted an opportunity, and here it was. “Hey… what’s your name? I mean, I taught you earlier, but I never asked.”

“Dave. Dave Lizewski,” he replied, grinning like an idiot, relieved to finally have a normal conversation. When you said your name, it was like a little piece of heaven to him. Beautiful, just like you. It fits you perfectly.

“It’s easier for me because of college. I think we always come around the same time,” you added, stepping away from the bathroom entrance and into the hallway.

“I’m in college too,” he blurted out quickly. “Uh… engineering. I used to draw a lot, and ended up liking it. Also because my friend Todd decided on it, and I’m terrible at making decisions.”

“That’s really cool. And tough,” you laughed, and for the first time all day, he didn’t feel like a total idiot. “If you ever need help, I’m here.”

“Of course… I mean, thanks for the help earlier with the… glutes,” he chuckled nervously, joining in when you laughed too. Please, smile more. Smile at me again.

“Sure,” you replied, taking note of how much more handsome he was up close. “So… see you tomorrow?”

“Yes, tomorrow. Definitely,” he said quickly, his eyes lighting up. “But tomorrow I’m not doing glutes… it’s back day.”

“Great. That way you can help me,” you said without thinking, surprised at your own boldness.

Dave nodded, his heart pounding harder than any cardio session could ever manage. “Yeah, of course. I won’t embarrass myself with that one.”

“You didn’t embarrass yourself,” you replied with a laugh, tilting your head slightly. God, this guy is so handsome.

“Oh, come on, now you’re just lying,” he joked, and you opened your mouth in mock disbelief.

“Careful, Lizewski. I might do heavy glute exercises on you,” you teased, though the playful threat only made Dave’s face turn as red as his gym shorts. “I mean… glute exercises with you. Uh, you know… something intense.”

“You can throw whatever you want at me,” he blurted out, biting his lip. “I mean weights. I can handle a lot of weight… like, a lot of weight…” he breathed, glancing at your thighs, imagining his hands lifting them up to his waist.

“That’s… good to know,” you replied, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. You blinked, realizing how bold you were being, flirting with a guy in the middle of the gym hallway, probably with half the room overhearing. “Uh, so… Dave…”

“Do you have a number?” he asked suddenly, his hand forming a fist as he mentally kicked himself for such a clumsy question. “I mean, of course, you have a number. Everyone does. I just… wanted to know if you’d share it, you know… so we could talk about, um, workouts?”

“Workouts, right,” you said, trying not to laugh as you swallowed the lump in your throat. You recited your number, and Dave immediately pulled out his phone to save it, as if it were the most valuable treasure in the world.

“Thank you,” he murmured, grinning as he slid his phone into his pocket, treating it like a priceless artifact.

“No problem. See you tomorrow,” you mentioned, finally retreating, your face flushed with both nerves and excitement.

“Yeah, tomorrow…” he murmured, lifting a hand in a small wave.

“Close your mouth, man. You look like an idiot,” Todd teased as he approached. Dave nudged him lightly, but Todd only laughed harder. “You got the girl. Congrats.”

“Not yet,” Dave replied, watching as you finally walked out the door. “But I will. Even if I have to do the hip abductor every fucking day.”

“Alright, Nicki Minaj. Let's eat some protein,” Todd quipped, earning an eye-roll from Dave, who grabbed his backpack and followed Todd out. As they left, Dave’s mind was entirely consumed with thoughts of you—and he mentally reviewed every back exercise to make sure he’d never mess up in front of you again.