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muntitled · 1 month ago

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Blink Twice

Pairings: The Salesman x Fem!Reader

Summary: After pushing your body to the brink, it's finally giving out. You're rewarded for all your dazzling work ethic with a “nice” dinner. As ‘nice’ as ‘nice’ gets with him…

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Language, Coercion, Murder, Abuse, Male Manipulation, Implied Violence, Age gap, God Complex, Brainwashing, Psychopathy, Blood, Gore, Codependency, Yandere!Salesman, Stalking, Smut (+18) mdni, Handcuffs, Exhibitionism, Blood Kink, Sadomasocism, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Choking, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Blood Play, fingering, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Sadism, Punishments, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Squirting, Fingering, Somnophilia, Period Sex, Bodily Fluids.

A/n: I'm not responsible for the media you consume

"H-How do you keep breaking into my apartment?" If it weren't for the fact that you were currently being fingered awake, you might have found it in yourself to sound more angry.

But you weren't awake, and he had taken advantage of your unconscious state just enough to bend down over your sleeping frame, and slip his hands between your legs.

You had promised yourself a quick power nap on the couch, anything that might lessen the pain that had been steadily blooming in your left arm. That nap had stolen you throughout most of the day until, here he hovers over you- the man who is undoubtedly the culprit for all this bodily pain you're in- with his fingers inside you.

“There you are, sleepy head,” His face is so close, you can see the smile wrinkling his face. His smile is bright and kind but his fingers aren't. They're stretching your cunt out, wrenching a moan from deep within you as you stare down at your hips moving off the couch.

“Fuck…” Your voice cracks as he scissors his index and middle finger inside you, still on a mission to split you apart. You drown in the scent of his cologne and his perfectly new suit- a black one today.

You throw your head back, feeling the pressure mount as you grind down against his fingers all while he watches with immense satisfaction.

“Can't- just-” you gasp when your wetness seeps out of you and onto the couch. “Can't-Do-This-” For all those moments you forget that you're nursing a sore arm. As you grind down against his ruthless fingers.

You forget that he might have seriously injured you this time.

“I couldn't help myself,” he whispers hoarsely, forcing an orgasm out of you before placing a kiss on your forehead. “You look breathtaking when you're unconscious.”

As the orgasm passes, you try to wake yourself up and become more aware of your surroundings.

Your body is shaking once he's done with you. Your cunt aches and reality sets back in. “Get out of my house.”

He straightens his tie before standing to his full height again, “You say that like I don't own the place,"

He's smiling stiffly as he stands before you, clutching that bloody briefcase, having come to collect you for another round of games...

Something inside your worn-out soul breaks at the sight of him so unfathomably fazed. You were experiencing another round of those 'realization moments'.

You have actually gone and sold yourself to a sadist.

Especially now that he's gone and done it again. After vehemently expressing that he 'please be a little more gentle with you', he insisted on pushing your body to the brink of its abilities. Toying with you and punishing you and releasing all the workings of those sick, sick, sick games on you, and for what?

It hits you more often than not these days.

A paid apartment? Paid university fees?

You try to keep your sleepy eyes unkind as you glare up at him but even you blanch at how much of a necessary force he's made himself in your life.

"And how often are you going to remind me that all my resources are tied to you?" You rise from lying supine, waiting for the world to stop spinning before you start stretching. None of your limbs protest as much as yours left shoulder that practically howls in pain. He watches you with robotic intrigue.

"I thought I should make good on that promise to take you out.”

"Take me out?" He notes the way your good shoulders tenses and smiles.

"I already said I've got no plans to kill you. You're the most fun I've had in years and years." He says "I want you to go to dinner with me."

"You wanna take your abuse victim out to dinner... looking like this?" you try to lift your arm but it protests, sending a sharp pain through your entire left side.

"I think you look rather beautiful."

"You would think this is what beauty looks like."

A tense silence falls.

"You're angry." He tilts his head, "And in pain."

You scoff venomously then, "Whomever might the culprit be?" You ask sarcastically before picking yourself up from the couch. You're cradling your arm, dragging your worn body across the floor to the adjoining kitchen.

"My fucking arm still hurts." You nearly cry as you squeeze the words out. Shooting a teary-eyed glare at your sadist from the kitchen.

"Tonight is your celebration dinner and it's way overdue." He busies himself by folding up the quilt that had been draped along your sleeping frame, "All my virtues rest on giving credit where credit is due, and you my dear..." the gaze he arrests you in is warm, and penetrative, like you were being reminded that he owns your body and soul, "-have done stellar work for me."

It's said in a wave of reverence you didn't really expect.

"Let me take you out,"

Sure he was sociopathic, and deranged, and everything you should most definitely be seeking refuge from, but the sentiment in his voice is genuine. As if, after 40 years on this earth, with the violent tendencies he had undoubtedly been born with, here is someone that's actually helping him. That's what you're doing, you're helping him. But it comes at a steep, steep price.

"You have virtues?" You ask sarcastically, causing the once intense moment to scatter and lighten.

"And your humor would be missed if I killed you. Where else would I find someone with such a stellar sense of humor and almost no sense of self preservation?" He asks aloud, as he walks towards the counter that separates you both. "You should've asked for help the first day you met me-"

"You offered to pay my shit if I played your games, who would walk away from that?”

"You should've." He smiles. "But I'm glad you didn't." His smile reaches those dead, almond eyes, "And tonight we have a celebration dinner."

"I can't go out," you say, turning your back on him to drink water.

His voice is dark when he says, "Can't or won't?"

"Can't." You slam your cup down against the sink, earning a thick wave of silence. You were never angry with him before. Never. "I think you broke something." You say, turning slowly, still cradling your arm like a baby.

There's a jarring amount of care in his voice as he rounds the counter to walk closer towards you. He examines your arm with deceptively soft eyes as he softly says, "I really did a number on you, didn't I?"

You look up at him with blank eyes, "Try not to get off thinking about it," you snip back. Sarcasm was your only weapon.

"I couldn't help myself," He rests his large hand on your arm, "you know that right?

"Y-Yes," your resolve falters and you're back to being his submissive. "I don't blame you."

"In fact." He nods along with you, conditioning you to accept his view of the events as he says, "Our session this past week had been nothing short of magical."

You're not quite sure if that was a reliable portrayal of the events but your weak mind is already fitting the memories to be so.

Somehow, you're thinking of the events with less anger: how he had snapped real, silver handcuffs on your wrists, resting them behind your back while you were being fucked from behind. It had been blissful until he pulled too hard on the left and you screamed and you blacked out.

Now here he stands before you, drenched in the afternoon sunlight, wearing a brand new black suit, smelling of fine cologne, telling you it was magical.

He came when you broke your arm.

"Alright, I'll come with you," he decides with finality, prompting you to snap out of your daze.

"No, I can go myself!" You move around him to gather your things.

"Unless you've magically obtained the ability to communicate in Korean then I suggest I come with you." He watches you race across your tiny apartment, gathering your things.

"There are English speaking doctors I'll be f-uck." As you were searching for your phone between the couch, you angered the arm, causing another wave of pain to blossom.

"I'm taking you." He stands by the doorway, "Let's go."

Your nostrils flare as the real reason for your discomfort rears its head. "B-but what if..."

You let the words die on your lips. Choosing instead to look at him, hoping your eyes relay the severity of the implications that might arise from a simple trip to the hospital. All those questions.

"Don't tell me you're worried about me." He says, still smiling.

"Worry?" You snort as you make your way to the front door where your sneakers sit, "If you go to jail who's gonna make me cum?"

He clutches at the space where a heart ought to be and says, "And here I was thinking you were falling in love with an old man like me."

"You can't love anything," you shoot back coldly.

"I can't," he confirms, "but you can."

You move away from the conversation like It's growing teeth.

"Let's just go," you mumble quietly, heading out the door, not looking back and knowing he'd follow.

𓂃

The hospital is bombarded by the smell of antiseptic and busy bodies in white coats whizzing all around you. It's dizzying actually being here as the severity if it all comes hammering down on you. You didn't like being around so many people at the best of times- even attending university everyday was met with its fair share of anxiety. Almost on instinct, you curl a little closer into his side, letting your right hand slither over his wrist. Surprisingly, he lets you.

"What should I say?" It only strikes you now that you probably should have rehearsed some script since 'I'd like to seek medical attention because I'm meeting with a homicidal sadist weekly who pays my bills and my body is finally giving out,' probably wouldn't be a good way to go.

The confidence in his stride leaves you brimming with nervousness. Your less than orthodox dynamic has already made a few passers by stare but here, inside the hospital, you feel like the only two humans to exist.

"I'll do the talking," he reassures and something inside you sighs. This is what made him such a necessary force for you. He handled way more than you ever could. He moved through the world, headstrong and in charge. He was everything you weren't.

"Good day-" he says to the nurse manning the front desk, "I'd like to get my wife treated for a possible fracture or broken bone-"

Wife.

It rings through your ears.

Meanwhile, kind eyes- genuine, human eyes- look at you from across the desk. You realize then how little contact you've had with anyone normal. Anyone real.

"Poor thing," the nurse murmurs and your heart tugs at the kindness drenched in her voice.

"Alright, Sir, it's just-" the nurse gestures towards the rest of the waiting room, "We're just busier than we usually are for a weekday so you might have to wait a while-"

"You have medical aid?" You enquire softly, letting your side bump against him. "Who the hell are you?"

He stares down the small woman as he reveals a glistening card from his wallet. She quickly looks at you before she tentatively takes the card and types away at her computer.

Somehow, up until this point you had fooled yourself into believing you were on the road to autonomy, that going to university and being a woman in her 20s away from home meant you were finally obtaining sweet sweet independence but in actuality... you were just a little girl, deluding herself into thinking the city might be kind to her. It's swallowing you whole. And you're being left to watch.

It made you aware of how completely vulnerable you had really been. You could barely afford rent, let alone something as luxurious as medical aid. For all your time in this city you tried not to get hurt because medical bills would eat you alive and here he was, whipping a card out.

"Right this way-" The little nurse moves from behind the counter, and almost immediately, you hear a distinct uproar in the waiting room behind you. "I think doctor Park will see you, but we'll first head over for X-Ray and-"

"Hey!" The sound startles you, causing your shoulders to tense as you grip on your Salesman's forearm, making sure he's still there, "We've been here for 4 hours," You meet the haggard glassy eyes of a middle aged man. He's scowling at you as if you've committed a grave murder right before him.

"I'm sorry, Sir." The nurse begins, her voice filled with concern, "This hospital is legally obligated to help out those with medical aid first-"

Shoes click against the cold floors. A shadow descends as your Salesman steps forward as if protecting you from the man's vehemence. Time stands still in the moments he makes his venomous proposition. A proposition so vile it nearly had you vomiting here all over the hospital floors.

"My wife needs a new heart-" he begins, gesturing to a woman- a ghost seated in the chairs behind him. Her skin is practically translucent as she stares off into space. "Who knows how much time we're wasting while we're being forced to wait here-"

"Are you up for a game of rock, paper, scissors by any chance?" Your salesman asks, causing your heart to sink. The man examines him as if he's grown a second head.

"If you win a single round against me, I will pay for your wife's medical treatment. New heart." At the peroration of his incredibly insensitive and evil proposition, your Salesman smiles.

"One round." He says, before his eyes snap to the woman pulling at her husband's arm.

"She doesn't look too well," The Salesman pouts and you walk up towards him, limbs shaking as you whisper-yell in his ear, feeling all your nerves being shot out of you.

"Jesus, you're fucking disgusting."

"Birds of a feather-" he whispers back, before refocusing his attention onto the man.

Meanwhile the nurse tries to pull you away but you're rooted to the floors. This whole ordeal makes you realize that you've never actually seen him interact with normal people. It makes you wonder where he goes when he's not with you. You'd almost believed that he's a fragment of your delusions, something your lonely brain cooked up to make you believe someone in this city cared about you. But he's real. And he has a life outside the two of you.

"Don't you wanna help your wife?" He continues to tempt the man, "Look at mine-" the Salesman said, gesturing to you. "She's a little battered and bruised but she's alive. You're not dying any time soon, right honey?"

You rip your eyes away from him just as your nurse returns. She places a warm arm on your forearm and in the midst of the game, she places a card in your hand. "Let's go for your x-rays,"

While they play their game, you look down at the piece of paper.

Blink twice if the man you're with is the one who assaulted you.

Call it female intuition.

You have no idea what could've led to the fact that he was the one but the nurse is watching you with a heavy gaze and bated breath. You almost drown in the concern she holds for you, a mere stranger.

In another life, you might've had a friend like her. She's relatively young, budding with youthfulness, actually. You imagine she has a boyfriend. An actual one. One who holds her bag while she's shopping. One who kisses her. These kinds of people develop empathy. The ‘fixed people’. You can tell she knows love.

“I-”

“Rock, paper, scissors-”

You blink once before looking away and the nurse sighs in relief.

"Better luck next time." You watch with bated breath as the man draws a rock to the Salesman's paper.

𓂃

An oblique fracture, they called it. The thing that's been plaguing your left arm for a week has finally been given its name. You're walking out of the doctor's office feeling light and remarkably relieved to leave this place and all its people. He walks confidently beside you, having sat through the whole ordeal. He had been there as they fashioned the pink cast over your arm and he walks beside you now, like your own personal well-dressed shadow.

On your way out, you pass by the receptionist's desk, she smiles over at you but glares at the Salesman. Just as you're about to make it out, you hear her voice.

“You said she's your wife,” the woman speaks up, causing you both to stop. “I don't see a ring.”

Cold, white, fear runs down your spine and your hand that was in his, squeezes as silence envelops you both.

“Good Day,” is all he says with an amicable smile before pulling you along.

Silence enveloped you on your taxi ride over to the Japanese restaurant comfortably situated in the Gangnam district. He had been remarkably quiet in the taxi driver over and he is remarkably quiet now as you're being led to a booth in the restaurant. It's adequately filled with its patrons. Families and couples like perhaps you two were. You wonder if he has these thoughts…

“She did make a good point,” you mumble as you take a seat in the booth, watching silently as he slips in beside you. “If you're going to be telling people I'm your wife and they don't see a ring…”

He sets his briefcase in the booth beside you both, sighing softly as he mumbles, “People don't usually marry their toys, do they?”

Before you're able to respond, a waiter walks up to your booth, having his pen and notepad at attention as he asks for your order. You watch your Salesman expertly lay down your order, everything from yakitori, to miso soup to onigiri. It's mesmerizing watching him order for you and you suspect it had the same effect on you. His hands on your thigh squeezes slightly, while you silently let him order. In a moment the waiter vanishes.

“You're so old,” you say suddenly, trying to make up for the silence and the nervousness raging through your heart. This is the first time you're out with him in a public setting and its setting you alight with worry. “I'm sure you remember when Korea was under Japanese occupation,”

“Keep making your little jokes,” he says, sipping on his complimentary water as he allows his back to rest against the seat, “And I might not be so forgiving…”

His hand rests his hand on your thigh, it's the only thing you're able to focus on. How his fingers cover so much space. The sheer size of it. The sheer size of him. You feel so completely small beside him, you almost don't realize that he's begun talking again.

“My father fought in the war when he was ‘round about your age,” that brings you clean out of your thoughts. Your eyes snap up to meet his but he's staring aimlessly ahead, as if reminiscing on something beautiful.

“Jesus I-” you swallow thickly, “That was a bloody war,”

He nods, momentarily removing his hand from your thigh to undo the buttons of his blazer.

“More than 3 million dead.” He says taking another sip.

“Right.” You nod, heart hammering when he places his hand back on your thigh. “2 million soldiers and 1 million civilians,” he places the glass back down on the table and he shakes his head slightly, twirling his index.

“Swap the numbers around.”

“Right…” you clear your throat, keeping your gaze locked on your lap, “That's... heartbreaking. I'm sorry.”

He turns his head, finally regarding you under the dimness of the hanging light fixtures. He tilts his head to the side in that way he does when he's particularly intrigued by you. “You are sorry, aren't you?”

You nod.

“But I have no idea why, you're not a Japanese fascist from the 40s.”

“No, but I have empathy.”

“Curious.” He replies back, before letting silence fall.

“Spread your legs,” he says so suddenly it gave you whiplash. Your head snaps up to him as you begin to plead.

He couldn't do this. There had to be some sort of refractory period in which he let your body recuperate.

“I’m in pain-” you grit out through your teeth, but his large hand is already seeping to the center of your closed legs, trying to pry them apart.

“Your legs work just fine.” He whispers, letting his mouth graze your ears, “Your cunt works just fine,”

You place a hand on his forearm. “The doctor said no strenuous activities.”

“Do you listen to the doctor or do you listen to me?” He asks, staring at you deep into your frightened eyes, forcing you into that liminal space of submission. Your eyes were brimming with not only fear but embarrassment.

“Spread your legs.” He whispers,

“I'm on my period,”

Another troubling moment of contemplation falls between you both and you're left to stare deep into each other's eyes as the restaurant's cultural music makes the ambience swell. It could be romantic, this energy that's festering between you two.

Even though you know it's anything but, you allow yourself to dip into those pools of delusion.

“You were fine this morning,” He says, and you note the grogginess that's begun to veneer his voice as he looks down at you.

Young, impressionable, darling you.

“I got it before we left, that's why I asked to use the bathroom again- point is,” you tug on his arm, “We can't.”

His eyes soften and for a split second, you think you see kindness there. Your gaze falls to his lips, anticipating the words they'd form.

“Spread your legs,” he says once more, before applying the necessary force to pry them apart yourself. “Let me in, Doll.”

A small whimper escapes you as you open your legs. You let him drift his hand under your skirt. His fingers are cold to the touch, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake as he inches them towards your cunt.

The second his fingers graze over your mound you gasp slightly before sitting forward with your head bowed. Your cast is behind the table as you hide your head in your hand. He watches you with heavy eyes, “It's rude to have your elbow on the table.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, trying to muffle yourself by the palm of your hand. You feel him swipe your underwear away. You feel his fingers dip into the pool of wetness at your entrance. Wetness you knew was not arousal.

“Don't look at me like that,” you mumble, staring down at the table as his fingers rub against your slick folds.

“Like what?” He asks.

In your periphery you can see him hunched over you slightly, his eyes on you and you alone. It was tiring having his attention. And so incredibly dangerous.

“Like you wanna eat me alive.”

He bends down, letting his fingers graze over your clit as he whispers, “I do. That's all I wanna do.”

The waitress returns with your food and you mumble a quiet ‘thank you,’ While your Salesman keeps his gaze locked on you.

“Grind down on my hand,” he urges and you shake your head,

“Do it.”

“Or what?” That was probably the worst thing to say to a sadist who looks like he's brimming for you to give him a reason to hurt him.

“Fuck my hand or I'll fuck you.”

You were feeling particularly stubborn today. The injury, the nurse, the hospital, the man and his wife… you're disgusted with this man beside. It dawns on you then that you have to get away from him.

“You can't do that-” you begin to whine but his voice is like steel when he reolies, “I thought we've established that there are many things I can do and very few I can't.”

All is quiet.

“Fuck my hand or I'll fuck you, I've been dying to play in your blood.”

You're still wrestling with either of your options, trying to outweigh the good against the bad was impossible when both choices just seemed bad. It puts you at an unfair disadvantage and you are drowning.

“W-Wait-”

“Times up.” He mumbles before removing his hand from your underwear. You're utterly horrified to find it stained in crimson.

He calls over the waiter, at least having the decency to hide his bloody hand behind your back as he politely says, “My wife is quite sick, could I be pointed to the bathroom, please?” He sounds so amicable, so deceptively kind, of course the waitress quietly urges the two of you to the bathrooms nestled at the back of the resturant.

“I'll do it-” you breath heavile as he urges you past tables, “I'll do just-”

“You picked too late," he whispers in your ear as he steers you into the female bathrooms. “Disqualified.” He says before pushing you into a sta. You could only thank your lucky stars that the stalls are empty but that is where you luck runs dry.

It's only you and your monster who's fervently unzipping his pants before locking you both in a cubicle.

“My arm hurts-” you begin but he turns you around, pushing your back against the door.

“Your cunt still works.” He repeats, “I didn't get to drive a knife into it the last time-” he whispers hoarsely as he plays drunken kisses all across your collarbone. You hate to admit how dizzying the effect of his kisses are. How they carry you off into a completely different mental state- where everything becomes morally grey. You felt like you could get off to almost anything in this state and so you don't bat an eye when he says, “I need to see your blood on my cock,”

In fact, you moan, trying to find your bearings as you slip so far into subspace. “You're not allowed to pass out on me-” he says, manically, breathing oh so heavily as he pulls his cock out over his slacks. “I'm not even using any of our favorite toys, you do not get to pass out.” He warns before slotting himself between your legs.

“W-wait- pull your pants all the way down, otherwise-” you hiccup, “I'll make a mess.”

A deep and low groan reverberates through his chest and you watch him lower his pants all the way down, revealing sculpted legs before he brings his cock to your cunt. It's wet enough to allow him to slide in smoothly, and he looks down between you, pressing down on your tummy as he watches your blood soak his cock.

“Here taste your blood,” He's prying your teeth open and you let him. Crimson floods your mouth and you moan around his fingers. There's a manic sort of edge to his laugh as he admits, “I’m not gonna last quick.” before he's kisses you deeply, grinding himself into you

“Fuck- you're filthy.” His eyes are absolutely insane as he drives his cock into you setting an unforgiving ppace. He snaps his hips against you, trying to drive his cock in further and further.

“Cum- I'm gonna cum-” He pulls back to urge, just as you hear someone walk into the bathroom. He's breathing heavily, surprisingly being mindful of your cast as he dips his hand down to your cunt. His fingers drag across the blood like it's the most fascinating thing on earth, and that has you cunt tightening around him.

A toilet flush, just as a whimper seeps through your lips. Your eyes are squeezed shut as you take his brutal fucking, watching him stab your cunt with his cock like he's daring himself to break you.

You place a hand on your mouth, muffling your violent cries as you buck your hips against him. Your own period pains that were flooding your system is beng fucked away. Your thighs and his pelvis are absolutely stained in crimson and his eyes are rolled back. Thankfully, the door opens and closes and you are alone once again.

“I love playing in your blood-” his voice cracks. Meanwhile, he's using you like a ragdoll. Through it all, you manage to ask the question plaguing your mind.

“Did he…” You moan, squeezing your eyes shut as the tip of his cock grazes your cervix, “Did your dad make it back?”

He rears his teeth, smiling in that twisted way that was far different from the smiles he gave everyone else. Only you got to see him like this. “Yes, Doll, he did.”

“W-What happened to him-oh god-” he picks up his pace grabbing your hips and pulling your cunt down on his cock.

“I killed him.” His eyes roll back into his skull and your mouth falls open. His cum floods your system and in that same moment his pelvis grazes along your clit, triggering your orgasm. You cum with tears in your eyes and it fills you with unmistakable dread.

If this man was capable of ending someone in his own bloodline, who were you in his eyes? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“Don't look so scared.” He whispers, still grunting as he emptied himself inside you, “He was useless. You- you're not useless.”

He kisses your face. Everywhere he can.

“You look like you're about to have a panic attack. Compose yourself.”

You breathe in thickly.

In and out.

#squid game #squid game x reader #squid game fanfic #squid game salesman #squid game smut #the salesman #the salesman x reader #the salesman fanfic #the salesman smut #salesman x reader #salesman smut #gong yoo x reader #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat

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angelseraphines · 1 month ago

Text

ೃ⁀➷ gods and monsters ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ hwang in-ho x wife!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header!

˚ ༘♡ you cherished your husband, your family, and the life you had created together. hwang in-ho was a man of contradictions, capable of immense love and devotion. he treated you with such care, as though you were the most precious thing in his world. his adoration was tangible in every gesture, every lingering glance. yet beneath that tenderness was a darkness you struggled to reconcile. this same man, who held your hand with precious affection, was also the masked overseer of the squid game, a series of merciless challenges where the desperate competed, often at the cost of their lives, for a staggering cash prize.

˚ ༘♡ you could never truly fathom it. the man who pressed sweet kisses to your forehead at night was the same monster who orchestrated a spectacle of death and suffering. he claimed no pleasure in it, but the mere fact of his involvement unsettled you. the gleaming black mask, the command he held over every horrific detail, it was a world so far removed from the comfort of your home, yet it belonged to him all the same.

˚ ༘♡ only once had he asked if you wished to attend, to see what he called “his other life.” the question had terrified you to your core, your lips parting in silent dismay. you hadn’t needed to answer. the way your expression shifted, the way fright and disapproval glared across your pallid face, was enough. he never brought it up again, never risked shattering the fragile balance he had created between his two identities.

˚ ༘♡ you were a mother to a healthy three-year-old son, who filled your days with laughter and energy, and you were carrying another child, though you had yet to tell your husband. the news remained a quiet secret, one you turned over in your mind during the solitude of the evening. it wasn’t fear of his reaction that kept you silent. hwang in-ho adored his family, there was no question of that, but the thought of bringing another life into the shadow of the games unsettled you.

˚ ༘♡ you tried to focus on being the woman you wanted to be, a loving mother, a supportive partner. in many ways, you succeeded. you tucked your son in every night with whispered stories and soft lullabies, kept your home warm and welcoming, and met your husband’s gaze with as much love as you could muster, even when doubts crept into the corners of your mind.

˚ ༘♡ when your worries became too much to bear, he would sense it, always. he would take your hands in his, his voice calm, his tone measured. “think of me as two men,” he would say, his words a plea for understanding. “there is hwang in-ho, your husband, your partner, the father of our children. and then there is the front man, a role i play, a mask i wear.”

˚ ༘♡ you wanted to believe him, to hold on to the idea that the man who kissed you tenderly each morning could be separate from the one who orchestrated so much pain. but no matter how you tried to comprehend it, there were nights when the thought of who he was beyond your shared walls kept you awake, your heart aching with questions you couldn’t bring yourself to ask.

˚ ༘♡ you tried with all your might to separate the two sides of the man you loved, the front man and your husband, hwang in-ho. but when he told you he wouldn’t be able to contact you during this year’s games, the delicate balance you had worked so hard to maintain crumbled. the weight of his words refused to settle, tearing at you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to simply let it go.

˚ ༘♡ “every year, you’ve managed to visit after the game for the day. what’s different this time?” you asked, your voice trembling with desperation.

˚ ༘♡ at first, he deflected, his tone dismissive as if your concerns were unwarranted. but as your worry grew, it became impossible for him to ignore. the strain in your expression, the way your voice cracked when you spoke, it was enough to wear him down. even your son had begun to notice, his small hands tugging at your sleeve, his innocent eyes filled with confusion at the tension that filled the air.

˚ ༘♡ with a frustrated sigh, in-ho finally relented. his hand enveloped yours, warm and steady against your trembling fingers. “i will be there this year,” he admitted, his voice hushed and measured. “as a player.”

˚ ༘♡ the words sent a chill through you, and your breath caught in your throat. “what? why?” you asked, your disbelief slicing through the tension.

˚ ༘♡ his gaze locked onto yours. “there is someone returning to the games this year,” he began, his tone careful. “a former player, a winner in fact. he’s likely to cause complications, and… i can’t deny the intrigue of watching him. this year will be different. i’ve decided to stay close by instead of observing from a distance.”

˚ ༘♡ fury and agony surged within you, and your hands shook as you lightly struck his chest, the beating driven by hysteria. “you idiot!” you yelled. “you can’t guarantee you’ll be safe! have you even thought about your family? what about our son?”

˚ ༘♡ he caught your wrist gently, his grip cautious, his face softening as he pulled you closer. “i will not be in danger,” he said, his voice calm but insistent. “i promise you that.”

˚ ༘♡ still, his assurance wasn’t enough. it didn’t stop the knot in your stomach from tightening or the ache in your chest from growing far more intense. the words you spoke next tumbled out before you had a chance to think them through. “if that’s true, then you won’t have any problem with me coming along!”

˚ ༘♡ the declaration hung in the air, sharp and sudden. even you were startled by it, your heart pounding in your chest as the misery of your demand settled between you. fear and anger had driven you to say it, but now it was too late to take it back. you searched his face for a reaction, your pulse racing.

˚ ༘♡ “don’t speak such nonsense again," he said firmly, his tone cutting through the tension in the room. "you have our son to think about. i am going, and i’ll return in a week. this is final."

˚ ༘♡ “no!” you shot back, the tremor in your voice betraying your growing panic. “if you’re going, then i’m coming with you. you told me it’s safe.” your eyes darted toward your son, who had long fallen asleep, blissfully unaware of the battle unfolding. a wave of guilt swept over you, tightening your throat. “he can stay with the household staff for a week. do you think i could take care of him properly while i’m sick with worry about you?”

˚ ༘♡ his brow furrowed, the sharp lines of irritation creasing his weary face. “you’re being unreasonable,” he said, his voice hard, though it faltered slightly as he began pacing the room. each step was measured, purposeful, as though he were trying to walk away from the argument itself. “this is dangerous enough without you there complicating things.”

˚ ༘♡ “and you’re being infuriating,” you countered, your tone rising as desperation overtook your earlier composure. “do you think I’d forgive myself if something happened to you while i stayed here and did nothing? you’re asking too much of me.” your voice cracked, the weight of your despair spilling into the room.

˚ ༘♡ the argument carried on into the late hour, a nightmare of clashing scorn and unresolved fears. he tried to dismiss you, to shut you down with reason, but you refused to back down. your agony, raw and untamed, eventually drove you to the brink. “if you go without me, i’ll leave,” you said, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “i’ll take our son, and i’ll leave.”

˚ ༘♡ the silence that followed was deafening. he froze, his gaze snapping to yours, searching your face for the truth. you hated the lie, the hollowness of your own threat, but it was all you had left. leaving him wasn’t something you could ever do, but the thought of him walking into danger alone was unbearable.

˚ ༘♡ he exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging under the burden of his dilemma. “fine,” he said at last, his voice clipped and low. “if you’re coming, then there are conditions… rules that have to be carefully followed.”

˚ ༘♡ your relief was immediate but short-lived as his words settled over you like a heavy cloak. “what conditions?” you asked, your voice softer now, cautious.

˚ ༘♡ “we’ll need to use false identities," he explained, his tone deliberate, each word chosen with care. "to everyone involved, we’re strangers. no one can know who we are, not even that we’re connected."

˚ ༘♡ the practicality of his demand sent a shiver down your spine, even as you nodded in agreement. the idea of pretending he was nothing more than a stranger felt unnatural, wrong, but you couldn’t argue. “i understand,” you murmured, though the knot in your stomach tightened with every passing second.

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t respond immediately, his gaze lingering on you as though considering whether you truly grasped what you were stepping into. when he finally looked away, you felt no sense of victory, only the forthcoming horror of what lay ahead.

˚ ༘♡ the games were set to begin in exactly one week, and each passing day left you feeling more unsettled. every time your husband pulled you into his arms, the unease lingered beneath the surface, making it difficult to fully surrender to his warmth. though you tried to find comfort in his presence, the thought of what lay ahead clouded every shared moment.

˚ ༘♡ you had entrusted your son to the most reliable and loyal members of the household staff, ensuring that he would be cared for in your absence. you also took great care to conceal any sign of your pregnancy. if in-ho discovered the truth, he would never allow you to join him, and staying behind was not an option you could accept.

˚ ༘♡ he had laid out the plan with meticulous precision. the two of you would arrive after the chaos of the first game, red light, green light. as he explained it, a large portion of the participants would undoubtedly be eliminated once they grasped the deadly reality of the games. the aftermath of that horror would provide cover for your entrance, allowing you to integrate without raising suspicion.

˚ ༘♡ your husband would take on the identity of player 001, an unassuming participant with no visible ties to you. your alias would be player 077, your stories carefully crafted to fit the narrative. his fabricated reason for joining the games was both haunting and ironic, he claimed he needed money for his pregnant wife. when he first told you this, a wave of panic washed over you, thinking he might have discovered your secret. but as you studied his expression, his calm demeanor revealed no hint of realization.

˚ ༘♡ for your feigned story, he decided you would play the role of a young woman drowning in debt, struggling to pay off the burdens left behind by your late father. the lie felt strangely fitting, yet it unsettled you all the same. every detail he crafted for your cover seemed so calculated, so detached, it was as though he had rehearsed this for far longer than he let on. this game of life and death was nothing more than a facade for him.

˚ ༘♡ you nodded along as he explained the plan, his voice unwavering. though the words were spoken with care, they failed to soothe the growing tension within you. each step of the plan felt cold, clinical, designed to strip away any sense of the life you shared outside these games. with every passing day, the distance between hwang in-ho, your husband, and the front man became more glaring, and you wondered if you could truly separate the two when it mattered most.

˚ ༘♡ you knelt by your son’s bedside, planting a soft kiss against his forehead. his small hand clung to your finger, and for a vanishing moment, you felt the crushing weight of guilt threaten to undo you. you whispered promises you weren’t sure you could keep, telling him you would be back soon, that everything would be fine. as his breathing slowed in sleep, you lingered a minute longer, memorizing the curve of his face and the delicate skin of his tiny hand before slipping away with your husband.

˚ ༘♡ the player uniforms were a tight, oppressive reminder of the role you had agreed to take on. the white and forest-green fabric felt rough against your skin, the stitched numbers, 001 on him, 077 on you, marking you both as part of this wicked charade. the air between you was dense with unspoken tension as you followed his lead into the heart of the games.

˚ ༘♡ the aftermath of the first game hit you like a physical blow. scarlet-red blood smeared the walls, the metallic stench thick enough to taste. lifeless bodies were being dragged away by masked figures, their uniforms pristine against the carnage. your stomach churned violently, and you had to bite down hard to keep from retching. your husband walked ahead, his pace measured, his face a mask of icy detachment.

˚ ༘♡ yet, even as he feigned indifference, you noticed the subtle tension p his clenched fists and the hard line of his jaw. no matter how disciplined and resolute he was, pretending you were a stranger clearly cost him some of his will power.

˚ ༘♡ you entered the massive dormitory, a cavernous space where the remaining players huddled in groups, their expressions etched with terror and disbelief. the room was alive with murmurs, frantic whispers of confusion and distress as they tried to process what had happened. the realization of the deadly nature of the games hung over the crowd, suffocating and inescapable.

˚ ༘♡ abruptly, a piercing voice broke through the calamity, commanding and filled with urgency. all eyes turned to player 456, a man whose presence seemed to dominate the room. his words were bold, calling for a vote in accordance with the consent clause, a chance for the players to decide whether they would continue or abandon the games. the idea rippled through the crowd, igniting faint glimmers of hope in some and deepening the despair in others.

˚ ༘♡ your husband moved slightly, a subtle shift in his stance catching your attention. his gaze flicked toward you, so brief it was almost imperceptible. then, with deliberate movements, he traced a small circle on the back of his hand, an action so precise it disturbed you. he turned away before you could react, his focus now on the masked enforcers who were setting up the voting station.

˚ ༘♡ it took you a moment to understand the message. he wanted you to vote in favor of continuing the games. the realization landed suddenly. you clenched your fists, your nails biting into your palms as you tried to steady yourself. the thought of condemning the remaining players to more death and suffering was unbearable, but you understood what his silent gesture meant. if the games ended now, everything he had planned, every risk he had taken, would amount to nothing.

˚ ༘♡ the apprehension caused your chest to tighten further as the masked figures prepared the voting station, their movements mechanical and precise. the voices of the players rose, some pleading for an end, others arguing to stay. you felt your pulse quicken, the enormity of what you were about to do pressing down on you as you prepared to cast a vote that would decide not only the fate of the players but the course of your husband’s dangerous mission.

a/n: the winner of the fanfiction vote, but i will definitely be writing for cho sang-woo as well! i hope you all enjoy reading! let me know if you have anymore requests! 🤍

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nightingale-prompts · 5 months ago

Text

The Nightingale Family-DC x DP prompt

(Shameless Addams family inspired prompt)

News travels fast in Gotham, especially in affluent circles. A new family has arrived in the city, old money at that. They had taken up residents in the old mansion overlooking the Historic Gotham Graveyard.

The Nightingales had a way of letting their presence be known. They were rarely seen in public. The eldest Jasmine Nightingale however had made waves working at the Gotham Asylum as a psychologist. She was often escorted by her younger brother Dan Nightingale. The public really started talking when Jazz was seen talking with Harley Quinn.

There were two children that lived in the Nightingale manor. They were elusive to say the least as the family didn't attend the parties of Gotham.

It wasn't until Damian Wayne got an invite from his classmate Danielle to visit their manor that someone saw the lives of Nightingales. This invite had been received after Damian carefully befriended the youngest Nightingale to investigate their connections.

That's how the Waynes ended up at a dinner party.

The manor was bleak to say the least and that's saying something in Gotham. The buildingbwas made from black stones and gargoyles perched on the roof. The garden was wilted and full of thrones that crept up the walls.

Bruce felt a sense of Deja vu as he approached the door and rang the bell. Tower bells rang out as the face of Jasmine Nightingale appeared. She was dressed in black dress pants and blazer. Her lips were painted to match. Her red hair had a striking white streak through it which had become a fashion trend since the family's arrival to girls wanting to seem mysterious.

"Good Evening. It is so nice to meet the infamous Waynes." She shook Bruce's hand. Behind her, the sounds of clanking metal was heard. "That is just my younger siblings playing. You don't you boys join while I talk to your father.

Despite only being a fresh-faced 20 year old Jazz carried herself like a confident adult. A certified genius in psychology who graduated early she also handled the inmates at the Asylum well enough that escapes are at an all time low.

"She's got it all" was what Harley said.

Bruce's admiration of the young lady was only matched by his suspicion. The house the Nightingales lived y had once belonged to the Al Ghouls. There was no telling yet if there was a connection.

He took a seat in the living room with Jazz tea already prepared. She poured two cups of black tea. Not black as in the type of tea but the color of the drink. Bruce cautiously sniffed the black liquid, it smelled earthy and acidic. Poison.

"Do you like it? I made it myself. I added the belladonna myself. It has a sweet taste so you don't need sugar. The kids have sweet tooths but we avoid added sugars. They love nightshade." She smiled drinking.

Bruce put the cup down. So they drink poison at a young age. They must be part of The League of Assassins. But why are they here?

"If you don't mind me asking. Why did you move to Gotham? Your parents-" Jazz put a hand up as she finished her cup.

"Mr. Wayne I'm sure you are no stranger to parents leaving before their time nor the concept that not all parents deserve children. Now I can't confirm or deny if that is the case for use but you can understand that it's a private matter." Jazz said sternly.

That wasn't an answer.

Upstairs Danny and Danielle played with Elle's new toys. Swords from Dan's trip to Portugal. He even sharpened them. They were currently tearing through the mansion.

Tim and Damian caught them while Danny had successfully pinned Elle to the ground.

"Dami! Help!" Elle yelled catching Danny off guard as Damian tackled Danny to the ground.

"Alright, alright. You can go next." Danny rolling Damian off him and passing him the sword. "Im taking a break."

Danny loved playing with his little sister but baby games are tiring.

"They let you play with swords," Tim exclaimed. This wasn't something he expected, sure it was normal for Damian but Damian is weird and was raised by assassins. Damian didn't do it for fun, it was training.

Damian and Danielle ran off while fencing.

"You must be one of the Waynes. Elle has been excited to have your brother over." Danny said politely if not a bit dismissive.

"Eh, yeah. Your sister said we should join you." Tim said a bit awkward. " You have another brother right?"

"Oh, yeah. He travels alot but he's relaxing right now. He's probably swimming." Danny shrugged.

Tim had heard of Danny. They went to the same school but Danny was part of a program that allowed him to come to school when he felt like it. The program is for young engineers who want to work for Wayne Industries. He mostly worked on small experimental projects. So far Danny's superconductor tech was revolutionary but impossible to replicate. Danny somehow managed to make a more effective coolant than anything they had created in the lab.

"You have a pool?" Tim knew that the mansion didn't have a pool.

"Of water? No." Danny shrugged but gave no further answer.

"I see, so what do you do?" Tim tried to sound normal like he was talking to his friends and not someone he was trying to probe.

"Anything, everything. I was going to recalibrate my telescope but I have a laser to test." Danny walked off expecting Tim to follow.

Testing was just cut a bunch of things in half. Tim got some great info on making an explosive ice canister and foam bombs. Tim made sure to get his number to hire him to make some gear for him.

The Nightingale kids were absolutely lawless. They destroyed everything in their path.

Elle had dragged Damian to her room to show off her toys. She used to travel with Dan until she started school. She picked up a bunch of items. Cult artifacts, shrunken heads, voodoo dolls, cursed puppets, knives, swords, and the homemade taxidermy Elle made from roadkill. She also had a pet dodo bird named Ernesto who had a bed next to her bed. Ernesto took a liking to Damian and sat on his head. The way he shows his affection

Soon enough Dan came upstairs to check on Elle and Danny.

"You kids, need to get ready for dinner. Sharpen your nails and teeth." He said before going back to the kitchen.

"What does that mean?" Damian asked.

"You don't sharpen your nails. Well good luck at dinner." Elle said bemused.

Dinner was...horrifying. Watching the family chat happily as they ripped apart the moving food as it came to life. Damian was actually excited as he skewered the cheese and broccoli casserole that screamed at him.

"Father, why can't we do this at our home?" He asked.

#dc x dp #Dan was swimming in the Lazarus pit in the basement #dpxdc #dc x dp prompt #dp x dc prompt #danny fenton #danny phantom #batman #tim drake #damian wayne #bruce wayne #dark danny

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nanaslutt · 8 months ago

Text

• I will always catch you •

ʚ synopsis: You and Nanami play a game of tag, if he wins he spanks you

ʚ cont: fem reader, spanking, fingering, dirty talk, rough sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation

You stood with your hands perched on the back of the couch, your eyes not once straying from where they were glued to Nanami's opposite the couch from you, the only thing that separated the two of you besides the coffee table that sat in front of the couch. "Ten second headstart." You said, already feeling your heart start to pick up at the promise of Nanami chasing you around.

You knew logically no matter how much time you asked for, he would always catch you in the end, but that's what you wanted, not that you would tell him that—even if he already knew. Nanami nodded, removing his hands from his pockets confidently, his mouth barely quirking up in a smile at the corners, the skin beside his mouth dimpling with it. "You won't catch me this time." Lie. "We'll see." Was his only reply before he raised his hands and started ticking down his fingers, letting you know he had started the timer.

You ran around the couch, passing him where he stood on the other side as you ran for the kitchen across the room, using the large island in the middle of it to separate him from you. It was your best bet to escape him for as long as possible, wait him out here, bait him to stalk you around the island, and shoot up the stairs for his office which had the only locking door in the house save for the bathroom, but that was too close to the kitchen, you needed more time to get away.

You watched, eyes bright and heart racing as his fingers hit 1, then he closed his hand tightly, letting you know you were out of time before he started walking toward you calmly. Your smile grew larger the closer he got, as did his, though he was far more cocky and confident than yours which was playful and full of adrenaline. "Aren't you going to run, sweetheart?" Nanami asked, cocking his head to the side as he made his way to the kitchen, standing across the island from you.

"I told you I learned some new tricks, you won't catch me this time." You said confidently, moving slowly toward the corner of the island, trying to bait Nanami into following you. And sure enough, he did. He didn't reply to you, just started walking towards the side in which you were closest to him, making you walk away from him, the two of you slowly circling the kitchen island as you made your way back to the opening of the living room.

You knew not to avert your eyes to his and give away your plans, if he caught you looking towards the direction you were going to run, he would catch you—no doubt about it. Nanami was taller and faster, his long legs eating up the space between you like nothing whenever you ran from him, so you had to be smart about this. "We'll see if your tricks are enough." Nanami finally voiced, stopping in his tracks diagonal to you, him standing where you just were in the kitchen, your positions now reversed.

You smiled at him in response, showing your teeth before you turned abruptly and took off sprinting across the living room. Your heart raced in your chest, the sound echoing through your whole body and making that the only thing you were able to hear. You wanted to turn around so bad and see how close he was, but you knew you couldn't afford to do so. You let out a laugh as you reached the banister on the stairs, gripping it tightly as you pulled yourself forward, using that momentum to run up them as quickly as you could.

You tried not to think about how Nanami often went up the steps two at a time, so if he was running he could probably manage three or more... shit. Your adrenaline was still pumping, making you more assured of yourself as you reached the top of the stairs, sure he wasn't right on your tail. His office was in your sight already as you pushed off the wall and sprinted toward the end of the hall. You were mentally praising Nanami for his constant pushing to leave all doors in the house open unless they were being occupied so the air could flow freely between them, making it so none of the rooms were stuffy—meaning the door was wide open and all you had to do was grab that door and slam it like your life depended on it.

You could only feel your own steps as you raced down the hall, surprised that he hadn't reached the top of the stairs yet, but that meant you had one, you finally had one. You reached the office and grabbed the handle before spinning yourself around and momentarily disorienting yourself before you were snatched into a pair of strong arms and hoisted over a shoulder with a scream of surprise. You felt like your heart was going to leap out of your chest and run away at the shock.

How had he got you so fast? You were sure he wasn't on your trail, but apparently, that had been wishful thinking. "Nanami!" You laughed, kicking your legs against him, trying to free yourself as he held you over his shoulder with an iron grip, his arm locked tightly around the back of your thighs so you couldn't wiggle out of his grasp. Your laugh was cut short when a harsh smack was left on your ass, the sting making you whip your hands back and cover yourself from him.

Nanami swiftly kicked the door shut behind him and stalked over to his desk, wrenching your hands away from your ass easily in his grip. "This is my reward for catching you, hands down." He said calmly, the deep baritone of his voice making you shiver as he pulled you off his shoulder and spun you away from him, using his body to press you against the edge of his desk and pushing you down on it with his hand on the middle of your back.

You weren't able to resist his moves, the speed of his actions making your body more pliant than you would've liked. The papers on his desk crumpled under your chest as you tried to push yourself up so you could stand again, and maybe try to attempt to run away, though you never had been successful at that before. Kento grabbed your wrists with both his hands and locked them behind your back with strength only he could possess, freeing himself a hand as he kept you at his mercy, rubbing his free hand against the swell of your ass.

"The new trick you tried didn't work so well." Nanami cooed, stating the obvious and making your face feel hot as he rubbed your loss in your face. "Were you planning to lock yourself in my office?" He asked, sliding his hand up and down the side of your body, making your skin prickle under your shirt. "Yeah, I was close too." You said defiantly, trying to gain back even a little bit of your ego. You had been so sure of yourself and now look at the position you ended up in.

"Mmm," Nanami hummed, the deep sound of it in his throat making your legs part willingly for him as he pressed his knee against the inside of your thigh and made you spread them. "What were you planning to do once you were in here?" He asked, making you pause. You looked around his office, thinking on his words. I don't know, relish in your victory? Bait him through the door? Write taunting notes about how he's a loser and slide them under the door for him to read?

"What do you think would happen when you opened the door? You couldn't stay in here forever." He asked confidently. "I'd come out because I would have won." You said quickly, the answer obvious, "There is no time limit on the game." He said, his fingers pushing up the back of your shirt and sliding against the skin of your back, pushing the fabric against your arms that were locked behind your back. The gears in your head started turning as you considered his words.

"What do you mean?" You asked, turning your head as far to the side as you could manage to look at him from under your lashes. "I will always catch you, you can't escape me." You opened your mouth to complain, to whine about how the game has been rigged from the start, how there was no way you could ever win, when a loud slap against your ass stopped your words from coming, a different sound escaping you. Your hands balled into fists as you wiggled back against him, trying to find relief against the sting that never came.

"That's not fair." You pouted. Nanami huffed out a laugh before his large hand rubbed across your backside, his fingers finding the hem of your shorts before pulling them down to pool around your ankles. "No, it's not." He agreed, another harsh smack making contact with your skin, making you jump. Nanami's warm hand stayed against your flesh rubbingaway the pain as he pressed closer to you, his crotch pressed against your left thigh. "But you don't mind as much as you're trying to make me think you do." He said assuredly.

You felt a tick of annoyance run through you before it was almost completely snuffed out by another slap of his hand, this one followed by two more in quick succession against your other cheek. "Why would you think that?" You sighed, trying not to pant through your words and give in to him as much as you wanted to. "This whole game has been rigged the whole time." You complained, your eyebrows shooting up when he pressed his knee against your clothed cunt, making you press try to press your legs together--an action that was stopped by his knee that was knocked into your own, keeping you spread.

Nanami gripped your ass in his hand before leaning over you, massaging the fat of your backside as his weight crushed you, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. He rut his hips against your thigh, letting you know how much he was enjoying his win before he pressed a kiss right under your ear. You shut your eyes, a gasp falling from your lips as all complaints left your brain, the only thing you could think of being the weight and scent of him as he consumed you entirely.

"You like it when I chase you, but you like it when I catch you even more." He whispered against your ear, his voice making you clench around nothing. "You're so cocky." You breathed, making him breathe out a laugh before he placed a kiss on your neck, the top of your spine, your shoulder blade. You held your breath when his hand that gripped your flesh slid between your legs, your body welcoming him as you spread your legs wider for him.

You couldn't stop the gasp that fell from between your lips when he pushed aside your panties like they were never there and rubbed his fingers through your wetness before dragging them across your clit. "And you're soaked, sweetheart," Nanami replied, showing you just how right he was about how much you loved being caught by him. But you didn't need him to tell you that, you already knew.

Nanami leaned back from crushing you with his body at the same time he slid his fingers back down to your entrance and pushed two thick fingers inside you like it was nothing—and it might've well been, his fingers getting swallowed up by your wet cunt with ease. The groan that left your lips made his cock twitch in response, the feeling of his hard length against the back of your thigh driving you crazy.

He released your arms from being caged behind your back, which you immediately used to grab the edge of the desk to steady yourself. Just when you were about to beg him for more, he slapped you again, harder this time, your ass stinging at the impact while your pussy tightened around his fingers like a vice. Nanami echoed your moan with a groan of his own as he began thrusting his fingers in and out of you, the wet squelching of your cunt echoing throughout his office.

"I can feel how much you like it." Nanami groaned, his voice deeper and more assertive with his arousal prominent. "Fuck," You whined, wiggling your hips back to meet his thrusts." Smack, another slap making you whine, a fuzziness starting to build in your mind as he fucked you harder on his fingers. "Tell me how much you like it, honey." Nanami moaned, though it sounded more like a beg as he rubbed his hips harder against your ass, trying to relieve himself on you.

"Kento," You whined, thrusting your hips back against him harder. A clinking of a belt and a zipper following the sound told you Nanami was ridding himself of his own pants. Another slap against your sore ass was all the motivation you needed to answer him, nodding against the desk. "I love it Ken, I love it, it feels so good." You whined, your clit throbbing at the lack of attention as you wiggled back, hoping he would relieve you soon.

You cried out when he pulled his fingers out of you abruptly, "Shhh, don't cry-" His words ended as he slammed himself inside you in one thrust, the stretch and slight burn of the sheer size of him making your eyes roll back in your head as he started up a brutal pace inside you, giving you little time to adjust before his hand dropped to your clit just as you wanted while his other massaged your soon to be bruised ass.

Without his knee between yours anymore, you were able to squeeze your thighs together around his hand as your orgasm wracked through your body, making you scream as he pounded it out of you, his cock hitting just the right spot inside your soft walls and prolonging your high as his expert fingers matched pace with his thrusts on your clit. "K-kento-" You whined, one of your hands wrapping around his wrist that kept rubbing your oversensitized clit, the pleasure of it bordering on pain.

"I know, I know, honey." Nanami cooed, his voice soft but his actions a stark contrast as he slapped your ass twice, once on each cheek, never once faltering his rough thrusts inside you, "You have to let go, sweetheart. Let go of my hand." He instructed, making you shake your head back and forth violently, only resulting in his fingers rubbing faster back and forth along your clit, it was almost too much.

"T-too much, Kento- f-fuck-" You cried, squeezing your eyes shut tight as you tried to lean forward to escape the pleasure, but he just followed you with his thrusts, knocking hard into your g-spot each time he slammed inside you. "No, it's not, Iknow what you can take." He replied dismissively, massaging your ass in a circle. The two of you had a safeword that had been long established and never used, and you weren't thinking about using it now, so maybe he was right, maybe he did know how much you could take.

You simply whined in response, feeling another orgasm quickly creeping over you, no escape from it in sight. "Let go of my hand, sweetheart, I won't ask again," Nanami said through a groan, his hand briefly coming up to cradle your cheek in a sweet gesture before he slid it back down your body and slapped the back of your thigh. The niceness of his words and the roughness of his actions made it hard to combine them into one person, you almost wanted to curse him out for sounding so unaffected but you knew he wasn't fairing much better than you.

The small sounds of him grunting and cursing under his breath told you exactly how he was doing. Kento's thrusts started losing their rhythm as he lost himself inside you. Begrudgingly, you let go of his hand, your own shaking as you placed it back on the edge of the dest, your knuckles turning white from how hard you were gripping it. "Good girl, I have you, I-I'll take care of you." The sound of Nanami's words getting choked off by a groan made your clit throb under his fingers. It was a fucking headrush knowing how much this man lost himself to you.

"Please-" You begged, unsure of what you were asking for but knowing you weren't going to last much longer. "Let it out, I'm right behind you." Nanami nodded, leaning over your body and wrapping an arm under your stomach, pulling your back tightly to his chest as he humped his cock in and out of you, the stretch and loss of him with each thrust making you go a little dumb in the head each time.

"Cum-" You weren't even able to finish your sentence as you came with a cry at the same time Nanami placed his lips on your cheek and kissed softly, trailing those kisses over your shoulder and neck as his fingers and cock worked in perfect harmony to draw your orgasm out of you. "Coming, I'm coming- oh my god-" Kento groaned through his teeth, his hair tickling your face as he buried his head in your neck and ground his hips flush against yours.

The circular movement of Kento's hips against your ass made your legs shake with sensitivity as his fat tip rubbed against your g-spot as he emptied his balls inside you. A warmth filled you from the inside out with each kick of his cock as he came, rope after rope of his seed filling you just like he did every time he fucked you. A loud, low, continuous groan left his throat as his balls throbbed with his release, his fingers finally ceasing their rubbing against your clit as he went still, basking in his orgasm while keeping himself inside you.

You reached a shaky, weak amr behind you and grabbed the back of his neck, gently scraping your nails up along his neck and trimmed undercut of his hair. Nanami hummed in satisfaction before he lifted his head and found your lips with ease, kissing you gently and lovingly, like the two of you had all the time in the world and nothing would ever separate the two of you.

He pulled away and looked at you, a content expression on his face. He leaned in to press one more kiss against your eyelid before he pulled back entirely, smoothing his hands down your sides as he pulled out of you, making the both of you moan at the missing contact of the other. You already wanted to whine about how empty you felt, but you knew you could have him whenever you wanted so that feeling didn't last long.

"My ass hurts." You complained, breaking the silence as you were now finally able to feel the full extent of his actions without a clouded mind. Kento laughed as he pulled your panties back in their rightful place, keeping his cum stuffed inside you as he patted his fingers over your cunt before dropping down and sliding your shorts up your legs. "I'm sorry, my love. I'll take responsibility." He said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"You gonna massage my ass all night?" You asked, pushing your body up and leaning against the back of the desk, not yet ready to fully rely on your shaky legs yet. "Of course, I was the one who bruised it after all." Kento nodded as he buckled his belt back into place before stalking forward and caging you in with his body. You wrapped your arms around his neck like you've done a thousand times and let him lean in to kiss your neck, his hands wrapping around your waist to help you stand.

"Good." You said, relishing in his kisses before speaking up again, grabbing ahold of his face and pulling him back so you could look at him properly before you asked your question. "Was the game really rigged this whole time or were you just saying all that to be sexy?" Nanami smiled at that, his own hands grabbing your cheeks as he placed a kiss to the top of your head, to lessen the blow of his inevitable answer you knew was coming. " You know it is, I will always catch you."

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bubblegumgothglados · 4 months ago

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OK so brats

They're actually really easy to control once you understand their motivation. And generally I split them up into three groups.

1. Attachment issues. Brats in this category need constant reassurance that you love them but often can't communicate that to you. So they seek this reassurance by breaking rules to test if you care about them enough to put them in their place. It's not a game and it should be taken seriously. If you're consistent with your rules they will eventually learn that they are loved and will stop intentionally breaking rules. If you've ever parented a 2-4yo you know what I mean.

2. Masochists. These brats, some way or another, have learnt that the best way to get their dom to hurt them is by acting out. You can control these brats by: a) internalising that punishments aren't good tools for training. b) using pain as a reward. c) reassuring them that there's nothing wrong with wanting pain and rewarding them when they use their words.

3. Fucking Brats. These brats just enjoy fighting, they want you to fight back and they want to loose. You can control these brats by refusing to engage or by communicating to them that this is not the time and you don't want to fight right now. You can train the brat out of them by using disappointment but honestly if you don't also enjoy the fight then you probably shouldn't be playing with this type of brat.

Secret 4th option. Obedient submissives who just like to banter and have been labeled brats by people who have never experienced an actual brat.

And remember; if your brat is winning then change the game

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narcjsistx · 4 months ago

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𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐇𝐂𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 | sae, shidou, rin (part two)

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

— sae itoshi

✶ Sae seems like someone who actually likes to wear bracelets, rings or necklaces, but can't wear them often due to the matchs he plays, where he would risk breaking them. going back to the basic concept, his gifts would probably be matching jewelry, especially rings... so, in case you were someone who wears them and rarely takes them off, he would try to do the same thing. during matches he would hang the ring on a string that he would put in his pocket or around his neck, kissing it before starting the match or squeezing it after scoring a goal

✶ I don't know exactly why, but beyond the canonical fetish for the ass, I see him as someone who would aim to have a partner with well groomed hands, like nails with polish, smooth and without calluses. he's not a big fan of PDA, the only thing he would do is hold your hand and occasionally leave a prying kiss on the back. in private he is certainly more open, and one thing he loves is massaging his partner's hand; it's a gesture he now makes almost unconsciously

✶ Sae didn't have instagram until he met you, you practically forced him to create an account! he resisted his manager telling him to do the same for a long time, but for you it was only enough once. he just put a profile photo, you had to do it for him the bio and some highlights, about past or future matches. a few days later you opened instagram and noticed that his account had a highlights that you hadn't created, entitled "her": you opened it and there were some photos of you, the ones that Sae considered most important (even if he loves them all). needless to say, your heart was about to explode

what would he post on socials ↓

✶ as a child he may have thought about it a bit, but after joining ReAl he didn't have the time to think about it again. he wouldn't mind having a family sooner or later, but probably after winning the U-20 world cup. two children would be fine, possibly a boy and a girl. he just knows that in some way his children would remind him of him and Rin as lil kids

✶ jealosy level: 5/10

✶ flirtiness level: 7/10 (let's specify, ABSOLUTELY NOT in public, but in private maybe he would indulge in some jokes)

✶ pet names: "amor" / "y/n" / "pretty"

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— ryusei shidou

✶ even if it doesn't seem like it, Shidou is relatively a normal person as a boyfriend... is there a concept of personal space? not that, but otherwise it's normal. the only "flaw" he may have is that he must CONSTANTLY have his hand touching you when you're together, whether it's a hand on your thigh or an arm around your shoulders: he simply needs to feel you. PDA is no big deal for him: he want to kiss you in front of everyone? he will do it, whatever the cost. if you say he can kiss you after winning a game and it's live nationally, why can't he do it in front of his group of homies?

✶ Shidou seems like someone actually very deep, or at least that seems to be described in some parts of his character sheet. Late night chats are literally the level of mental intimacy he hopes to achieve with his partner... he's someone who doesn't sleep much, so he has a lot of energy and hardly gets tired even after hours of talking. You and him tightly hugging on his bed, lights off and just everything that goes through your head... doesn't everything seem perfect?

✶ you know very well that every time he has a match he makes comments that, let's say, put him in a "bad light", or in any case make him seem less interested in you. before being with you he didn't mind saying things like that on the field, and more or less the same thing has remained since you got together as a couple... BUT THERE IS A BUT! every time, once the game is over and above all won, he makes sure to run to you before even celebrating with his teammates: whether you are in the VIP area or not, he will come to you to kiss you with all the passion he has. let's say he uses his method to reconfirm to the people that he is happily taken

what would he post on socials ↓

✶ GET MARRIED AND HAVE MANY CHILDREN AS POSSIBLE? YEAAAAH. no okay maybe not like that, but on the issue of children he doesn't lie... certainly with the career as a striker he has, he has no problems with money, and therefore with maintaining kids. let's say that for marriage it's different... he doesn't find any sense in it, in reality, he only sees it as something superficial: if he loves you and you know it, why have such a ceremony?. so let's say it's 50/50: he would do it if you asked him but at the same time he wouldn't mind not being married

✶ jealosy level: 1/10 (he trusts you too much to even think about it)

✶ flirtiness level: 10/10

✶ pet names: "doll" / "darling" / "love"

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— rin itoshi

✶ Rin hides under his serious and calculating gaze a boy who simply needs to vent after everything that happened with his older brother. Before being together as a couple he would never have expected to be able to cry in front of someone, but with you it was all quite natural: it took months and a lot of patience to show him that you really cared about him and that you wanted him to feel comfortable with you, but in the end he let himself go and was finally able to tell someone what not even he himself could explain. he'll never admit it but he believes that was the moment he realized how important you really were to him, and how much he simply wanted someone who could understand him

✶ He has a sort of fetish for seeing you in his clothes: it doesn't matter if the clothes are tight, big or the right size, just seeing you in that black sweatshirt of his or in his PxG uniform is enough to send him into crisis. he can't even explain to you why he likes it so much, but the fact that you're wearing something that smells like him is definitely a valid reason. you once surprised him by showing up at one of his matches wearing a jacket with "rin" written on the back, and we can say that he appreciated it to the point of having to prove it to you in some way: that time the match ended 9-0, goal all marked by him

✶ He may be one of the best if not the best, but after finishing the practice he simply needs to rest with you next to him, even more so if the coach was more unpleasant than usual or he simply did a lot of things wrong due to distraction (which is impossible considering it's Rin). Whether on the couch after cleaning himself or in the shower, while you rub shampoo into his hair it doesn't matter, he just needs to feel your presence

what would he post on socials ↓

✶ as a child he often saw other children playing at being married, but he was never actually interested, also because on the one hand it disgusted him to think of having to be tied to a person forever and kiss them on the mouth. as he's grown up he's changed his opinion, he's definitely the marriageable type and he'd actually like to get married as soon as possible: what's the point in leaving you legally free if you've stolen his heart?. let's say that he has a fairly positive opinion about children, he just knows that they arrive after a certain amount of time after marriage: he would like to have two girls... growing up as one of two brothers, both boys, he knows how boys are more problematic than girls

✶ jealosy level: 6/10

✶ flirtiness level: 3/10

✶ pet names: "y/n" / "love"

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