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cherrysweets-world · 2 days ago

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Eyes of the Gods IX

series masterlist - part eight

Pairing: Caracalla x fem!Reader x Geta

Summary: The emperors isolate you further.

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, unhealthy relationships, controlling behavior, period typical sexism, obsessive/possessive/ relationships, dub-con, sex, light bondage, dirty talk, light breeding kink, historical inaccuracies, manipulative behavior, jealousy, mentions of slaves/slavery,

Word Count: 3.5k

The night passed by in a tumble of hot, languid touches and warm skin. It had been a challenge to convince Caracalla to leave the baths and harder still to keep his hands off of you on the way to his rooms.

He had fucked you again once you got there, had you bent over the bed in a rush of still-damp skin and sharp teeth. He had leaned over you until you were pressed into the bed, a weeping mess, and fucked you dizzy.

Afterwards, he had climbed on top of you and licked the tears from your cheeks, muttering possessive words. It was as though he thought you might disappear at any moment and the only way to prevent it was to hold you so tight it almost hurt.

Throughout it all, you could not help but steal glances at the door. This had irritated Caracalla, even with all the talk before of 'ours' and 'us' and he had let you know just how annoyed he was by biting you rather viciously on the back of the neck.

You dabbed the area with the tips of your fingers, inspecting them closely. Last night there had been blood but it seemed to have healed over now. The distant sting of pain send a thrill up your spine that you staunchly ignored.

There had still been no sign of Geta this morning. Caracalla had been practically dragged from bed by a group of well-meaning attendants. It had been a risky move and you kept expecting him to snap at them but he had been suspiciously pliant. One of the attendants had given you a grateful smile once they were done and you had almost shrivelled up with embarrassment.

Three Praetorian guards accompanied you now. Part of you winced and thought it excessive; the other part remembered the glint of the knife as it slashed at your face. Whilst you resented their presence you appreciated the protection they offered and would not complain.

You walked cautiously around the palace, trying to ignore the three shadows at your back. You had forced yourself to get ready that morning and leave Caracalla’s rooms; you did not want to let your fears get the best of you. The longer you stayed locked up in the emperor's rooms, the harder it would be to leave them.

The Praetorians seemed just as on edge. It was possible that more of them had been executed last night for the slip in security. You had not had the heart to ask and it shamed you but you wanted to shove all memories of attack in a box and throw it away.

You paused for a moment, thinking. Then you turned and dipped down a quieter corridor, heading towards a small entrance and an uneven set of stairs, worn by the feet of hundreds of slaves and workers. You teetered at the top, inhaling deeply. Already you could smell fresh baked bread and grain.

A Praetorian reached out and gripped your elbow before you could go down. "Where are you going?"

"To the kitchen," you said slowly. "My friends are there."

The Praetorian seemed to consider this, glancing round at his fellow guards. When neither of them said anything he let you go, leaning back and securing a hand on his weapon.

Satisfied, you took to the stairs. The armor of the guards clanked and shook as the passage got smaller. You dreaded to imagine what people would think but your craving for a familiar face overtook any humiliation that might have convinced you to turn around.

It felt as though years had passed since you had last stood in this place. The walls were startlingly bare, the floor plain and bumpy. You ran your fingertips over the stone, letting it pick at your skin. You wondered who slept in your bed now.

You passed several slaves and offered them friendly smiles which they did not return. That was okay - they were not your friends. They did not know you from before.

Eventually you peered into the kitchen, more nervous than you wanted to let on. To your relief, Alba was at the table, spooning plain porridge into her mouth whilst chatting with the head cook.

"Alba," you called out.

She blinked at you, her spoon dropping into her ceramic bowl with a clatter.

"It is. . .me," you finished lamely.

There was a brief pause in which she just stared at you. Heart hammering, you cringed and made as if to leave.

"Wait," she cried, jumping to her feet.

When she folded you into a hug, you almost cried. The Praetorians shifted uncomfortably.

Alba's hair smelled exactly like the plain oil you all used to use. Her cheek was soft and smooth against yours. You had hardly had time to miss her and now it felt like all of that longing was catching up to you all at once. You shoved all other emotions aside and tried to just be happy and enjoy the moment.

"Look at you," she gushed, pulling back to gaze at your face. "You look beautiful - like a noblewoman!"

"No," you said shyly, pinpricks of guilt threatening to ruin your good mood. "I - I've been eating better, I suppose."

Alba went still, glancing over your shoulder at the Praetorians. "I was so worried," she said, "that your routine would be different from what you were used to. You know?"

"I know," you nodded, "things have been different but I managed to work it out."

That was a gross exaggeration but you did not want to worry your friend further. Palace gossip had probably kept her informed to a certain extent but there was no saying how much of it had been accurate. If it had been Alba that had been taken, you would have assumed she was getting beaten on the daily and subjected to all kinds of abuse.

"Listen," she said, "I have many duties today. Tomorrow, though, I can make time for you. Will you come back?"

You nodded eagerly. "That would be perfect. I will be back."

You left the kitchen reluctantly, pushed forward by the disapproving looks of the Praetorians. You ignored them and practically skipped back up the stairs. Things seemed a little brighter now that you had been able to talk to your friend.

Tomorrow you would discreetly ask her what kind of rumors she had heard. New ones would no doubt sprout now that you had ventured down to the kitchens but you did not care. The link to your old life had been worn thin; talking to your old friend seemed to strengthen it a little.

Night had fallen by the time Caracalla reappeared in his room. He was flustered and irascible, staring at you longingly on the bed with a twisted frown.

"Geta wishes to speak with me," he continued to frown, eyes dipping past your face and further down south.

"I'll go back to my room -" you started.

"No," he interrupted. "You will stay here now. It is night and the Praetorians will be just outside the door."

You picked up on the unspoken words - do not leave. After the attack, you were more than happy to obey. The darkness creeping into the halls was no longer the safe haven it used to be.

The bed felt cold and empty and you tossed and turned until morning, eager to see your friend once more. You dressed quickly, yanking your clothes over your head and stomping into your sandals. The day felt promising and you were determined to keep yourself busy.

As Caracalla had said, there were Praetorians waiting outside the door. You tried to ignore the prickle of anxiety that fluttered around the back of your head. It was easier to tell yourself that they were only there to keep others not - not to also keep you in.

It was morning now, though, and you were more or less free to roam. The air smelled heavy with the promise of a storm. It felt sticky and thick, urging you to pluck at the fabric of your stola and create a small pocket of cool air. Perspiration beaded on the lips of several of the guards; you did not envy the uniform they wore.

Early morning seemed the best time to see Alba, before she got sucked into the grueling tasks of the day. Even if it was just for fifteen minutes, you were thrilled at the idea of sitting with her and catching up.

You glanced at the Praetorians. Of course, you would be limited on exactly what you could say. Still, idle gossip was better than nothing.

You entered the kitchen with a flourish, half-smile formed on your lips. An unfamiliar woman stood at the giant stove, mixing a batch of porridge intended for the staff.

"I apologise for the intrusion," you said, "but I'm looking for a friend. Alba?"

"Don't know an Alba," the woman replied, continuing to stir.

At that moment, one of the Praetorians cleared his throat. Something about the sound sent dread crawling through your veins. You slowly swivelled to face him.

"My apologies," he grimaced, "but all the kitchen staff were sent away last night. There have all been replaced."

Shaking your head, you plucked at your stola once more, feeling the oppressive heat crowd around you. "No. No. I saw her just yesterday."

"She would have been dismissed after that."

You pushed past them, taking the stairs two at a time. There was no questioning who had done it - but why? There was no part of you that could understand, no matter how desperately you tried.

Overcome by dizziness, you fell forward onto the steps. The rough material bit into your palms as you forced yourself to sit, to breathe. The idea that you may have just ruined your friends life was making you physically sick. You placed one hand at the base of your throat, counting as high as you could.

Hysteria threatened to bloom as you sat shaking. It was fortunate you had come down so early in the morning or you would have been in the way of bustling servants and their duties. The Praetorians looked on with a mixture of pity and something you could not name.

You were still trying to calm your breathing when you noticed a pair of feet on the steps level with your shoulder. Geta looked down at you, taking in your shivering form. He was wearing a black toga lined with golden embroidery, a crown of laurels nestled in the waves of his hair. He looked like a young god, triumphant.

He held out his hand and said your name. "Come."

You took it without thinking, letting him pull you to your feet and lead you out of the staircase. Numb, you followed him all the way to the familiar halls closest to his quarters. The angry part of you demanded that you riot, that you pull away from him and scream your frustrations. It was quietened by reason. You let your brain soothe itself as you stumbled after Geta.

As you expected, he took you to his rooms. Neither of you said anything and it remained that way until you dropped your gaze.

You heard the soft scuffs of his sandals on the floor as he approached you, hand coming up to dust over your cheek. "It is not appropriate for a lady to be scurrying about in the kitchens."

You scoffed and pushed his hand away. "A lady? I am the furthest thing - "

"You are what we say you are!" his chest was rising and falling rapidly. "If we say you are a lady, then it is so. If we say you are ours, then it is so. Why do you insist on these little rebellions?"

Geta had an iron-tight grip on your wrist. Your forearm throbbed in protest but he would not let go. He used your arm to pull you closer until you were chest-to-chest. His eyes were wild with emotion and you had to look away to avoid getting sucked in.

"You do not even know," he shook his head, sneering. "I thought that your night with Caracalla might make you think twice about this sort of thing."

Finally, you yanked your arm away, clutching it to your chest. "It was not a rebellion," you spat, "she was my friend. I wanted to see -"

"Are we not enough?"

Your mouth opened and closed for several moments. Geta stared intently at your face, waiting for his answer. When it did not come - for how could you answer such a thing! - he approached you once again, crowding you against the wall.

You stayed perfectly still as he placed his head in the junction between your neck and shoulder, breathing in the scent of you. His hair tickled the side of your neck. Anger was still fizzing in the air, or maybe it was the storm outside approaching.

"You forget your place. I am an emperor of Rome," he murmured into your neck, "I am all you need."

You did not flinch away when his hand came up to cup your cheek. His eyes were still frantic as they met yours, his hand warm as it held you in place. His other hand came to rest on your chest, lips twitching when he felt the way your heart thundered against his palm.

Geta kissed you like it was his right. His tongue ran over the seam of your lips until you opened, moaning into the kiss. The heat of the day combined with Geta's mouth made your head swim but you did not pull away. You quivered as his tongue began to fuck your mouth, imitating sex with an intensity that left you reeling.

His hands fisted in the fabric at your waist, pulling you from the wall and directing you until the backs of your knees hit the bed. You tumbled backwards, breathless, delirious.

Geta tore at his own clothes. "Tell me," he commanded, "what did he do to you?"

"W-what?" you stammered.

"My brother," he hissed, "where did he touch you?"

Flashes of your time with Caracalla made your throat dry, your thighs clench. Geta climbed onto the bed next to you, cock bouncing against his thigh. Your eyes zeroed in on the precum beading at the tip, your tongue subconsciously swiping across your bottom lip.

His hair was darker than his brothers. You could see the light bouncing off of the tiny hairs on his thighs. His cock was red and angry-looking, dripping with clear fluid. Geta swiped his finger across the tip, smearing his pre-cum against your lips, watching as your tongue dipped out to clean it up.

"I can see that you are thinking of him," he said, snatching your hand, "but he is not the one who is here with you now."

Geta wrapped your hand around his cock, groaned as he used you to stroke himself. His chest was hairless and sweat beaded there, rolled down a path that you wanted to trace with your lips.

Without warning, he began to rip at your clothes. You yelped as your breasts were suddenly free, nipples hardening in the warm air of the room. Geta ducked down to tease them, teeth making you hiss and whine.

His hand continued to travel down to your stomach, resting there for several moments. Then he pulled back, gathering strips of clothing to bind your hands and push them above your head. Your cunt clenched as he made the bindings tight, tugging at them to ensure you could not break free.

"Do not move unless I say otherwise," he commanded.

He peeled the rest of your clothes from you as though you were a dessert he was slowly unveiling. You quivered at the intensity of his attention, certain that he could physically see your heart beating beneath your breast.

Geta straddled your lower legs, eyes hungrily taking in every part of you. Gently, he reached out and traced your areola with his finger, eyes scorching as your back arched to meet his touch. Sweat began to gather on your hairline but you hardly noticed - all you could see, feel, smell was him. That heady scent of him that made you insane.

Splaying his hand at the base of your neck, he bent until his mouth was pressed against your sternum. He was whispering things against your skin but you could not make out his words. Gradually he went lower, lower, until his mouth was hovering above your stomach.

"Such a vulnerable area," he mused, "so many vital things here. Kidneys, liver, stomach. Womb."

You gasped as his tongue delved into your belly button. It sent a desperate pang to your core and your hips bucked wantonly, grinding into his stomach. It was difficult to keep your arms above your head but you did not want to displease him.

Geta sat up, fingers trailing through the wet mess you had left on his stomach. He played with it, eyes dropping to your weeping cunt. His finger dug into your thighs as he pulled them further apart, spreading you wide.

"Your body, at least, is honest," he sounded pleased, "slick, swollen, ready to be fucked. A cunt worthy of an emperor."

You furrowed your brows when Geta settled down next to you. A yelp echoed around the room as he pulled you on top of him, your hands bound in front of you and your cunt leaking against the thick line of his cock. You could not help but tilt your hips, pressing your clit against him and rocking a little.

"Fuck," he swore loudly, "yes, that is - that is what I want. Show me how much you want me."

He pressed your thigh, urging you to balance on your knees as he lined his cock up with your cunt. Your entire body was shuddering as you held yourself above him, letting him rub himself against the petals of your sex.

Geta's fingers curled into your hips, pushing you down. Sinking onto his cock felt like arriving home to find a warm meal awaiting you. Short pants pushed past your lips as you blinked blearily down at him.

His thumb rubbed a lazy circle on your clit, causing you to jolt and rock forward. Both of you moaned at the change in pressure. It felt as if he was pressing somewhere behind your bellybutton, unrelenting and firm.

It took a moment to get the rhythm, but soon you were rolling down onto him like you had been doing it all your life. His cock stretched you wide, left you mewling and trembling. Geta began to meet you halfway, thrusting up into your cunt as you sank down.

"Feels good?" he panted. "I'll give you this whenever you want, just need to obey."

His thumb continued to torment your clit, pulling away any time you began to tightened and threatened to go over the edge. You were seconds away from erupting into tears, seconds away from begging.

"Tell me it feels good," he bit out, using your bound wrists to pull you down harder and harder.

"F-feels good!"

"What feels good?" he pinched your clit, grinning up at you with a carnal smile. "What feels good, sweet girl?"

"Your cock," you cried out, "inside me. You feel good inside me."

That was an under exaggeration. You felt thoroughly fucked; like no one else other than the emperors would be able to make you feel like this again. The pair of you dissolved into a frenzy, clenching fingers, bright eyes and slick sounds. You felt certain that Cupid was in the room, ravaging your mind with lust and desire until Geta was all you could stand to think about.

"Such a good girl," he rasped, "taking all of me like that."

You bit out a whimper at the pleasure that wrapped around your middle, pulling tight as you came undone. You jerked in Geta's hold, at the mercy of your own orgasm and unable to move. He pulled out of you and you mourned the loss, but then he was positioning you on your back and plunging into you once more.

He held your ankles on either side of his head, turning to press kisses and soft bites into the flesh there. His eyes burned into yours as he chased his own end, thrusts becoming sloppy and uncoordinated.

He bit down hard on your ankle as he came, hips stuttering into yours as he fucked his cum deeper inside of you. Just when you thought he was going to pull out, he leaned down and secured his arms around you, rolling until you were resting on his heaving chest.

"My hands," you said, holding up your bound wrists.

"Shhh," he pinched your bottom lip, "later."

You could feel him softening inside of you. It was oddly erotic. He groaned when you shifted, squeezing you until you went still. He was still watching you, even as your eyes began to get heavy-lidded and you could not help but rest your head on his chest.

Whatever barrier there was between you two was now long gone, kept at bay by the feeling of his seed leaking out of you. You felt thoroughly owned and Geta's grip on the back of your neck only reinforced that feeling.

Author’s Note - reblogs/comments/notes/asks are all highly motivating to me so please let me know what you think ♥️

The masterlist has been updated with dates you can expect future updates!

taglist - @only4thefics @doodle-with-rhy @lover-rep-fanfic @claraisme23 @sashaphantomhive @multifandombtch @t6gse370

@merrymunsons @europixie @prestinalove @malfoycassimalfoy

@jovial-cowboy @akamitrani @bocreep @justasmallbean @moompie @duckyhowls @justlibra @mama-frog @fionaapplelover2010

@verypoetrytraveler @darleniweenie

@feral-postings @honey-eyed-munson @an34l @happysparklingshadows @hiroshiro @slaytheusurper @1950schick @quaintquinn @queenofviolenceandnerds @001mon @fandom-princess-forevermore @lostsoldieronahill @boywivlove

#eyes of the gods #fred hechinger #joseph quinn #emperor caracalla #emperor caracalla x reader #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #caracalla x reader #geta x reader #caracalla x reader x geta

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murderofravens · 1 day ago

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BLACKEST DAY

pairing: cho sangwoo x fem reader

summary: old feelings are rekindled when you encounter your father's old friend at the games.

warnings: age gap (reader is 20, sangwoo is 46) badly written smut, face slapping, slightly toxic dynamics, a smidge of some age-gap kink. lots of angst. body worship. this is a oneshot.

word count: around 5k

[feedback and reblogs are a writer's biggest motivation.]

MASTERLIST

life has a funny way of reuniting people.

when you woke up in the hall, surrounded by strangers wearing those ugly green clothes much like yourself, your first thought was— 'i should have brought someone with me.'

you were always rather wary of doing things by yourself. things seem much easier when you have a helping hand to give you advice, or to make bad decisions together.

your first shock came upon the mention of his name, taken by one of the guards.

player 218, cho sangwoo.

your eyes snapped up to the screen where you could see a clip of him getting slapped after repeatedly losing the game.

"former supervisor of team two at joy investments, embezzled money from his clients, invested it in derivatives and figures and failed. current loss, 650 million won."

you looked around frantically before you caught sight of him— handsome as ever, although visibly distraught. his shocked eyes were looking at the guards with a mix of anger and embarrassment.

you had known sangwoo since you were rather young. idolized him at one point, even. he and your father used to be some sort of business partners— which you can guess was another word for friends who gambled and hung out occasionally. most of your years went by with him acknowledging you politely, getting you chocolate everytime he came to visit, and patting your head with a proud smile whenever your parents told him about one of your achievements at school. you wanted to be like him— smart, ambitious and a hard worker.

you'd moved off for college when you were of age, and according to his mother, he had moved to the US for business purposes.

which, as you can see, didn't work out.

you don't really try to make conversation with him, don't even look at his side of the room. mainly because you're embarrassed. there are two reasons— the first being that you don't want to see the man you idolized at a place like this. and the second is personal. your last memory of him isn't something you're fond of. it still fills you with resentment and a sense of sadness— you had asked to meet up with him before you were going off to college, hoping to express your feelings. you'd developed a childish crush on him when you were growing up, and it had expanded into genuine feelings over time.

but he never showed up, and you were left sitting in the expensive restaurant all by yourself. you never revealed that to anyone, deciding to take that moment of humiliation to the grave.

the first game was terrifying, to say the least. while you could tell there was something inherently shady about the whole organization, what left you in genuine shock was the first shot that rang out through the field, killing the person who moved. you were careful about your steps then, walking forward rather meticulously, ensuring you were not a victim in whatever hellhole you've found yourself in.

splatters of blood covered your face as you almost reached the line, hiding behind another taller man. there were a mere 10 seconds left. your heart was quite literally trying to beat out of your chest, and sweat dripped down your forehead. and that's when you first made eye contact with him.

sangwoo, who was bent in half, was panting as he looked at the finish line. his gaze rose, and connected with yours— eyes immediately widening with recognition. you were frozen as you looked at him, jaw clenched and panic stricken. he looked at the timer, and the doll turned away. you quickly began running, and you saw him straighten up as the timer began nearing zero. you jumped across the finish line, and his hand grabbed you to help. you stumbled into him and the both of you fell onto the dusty ground— a mess of sweaty limbs.

you don't say a word to him as the guards guide you back to the hall. he is just as silent behind you, and you wonder if it's because he's embarrassed about being there, or if he remembered what he did to you and is reluctant to acknowledge you after.

"i didn't expect to see you here." he remarks quietly, voice grim. his head is lowered, and there's an almost disappointed look in his eyes.

the audacity.

"i could say the same about you," you shoot back dryly, sitting cross legged on the floor. he looks at you then, and your gaze challenged his.

"you've grown since i last saw you." he adds, and you scoff in response. so what? you were still bitter.

"it's just two years."

he clenches his jaw and looks away, his ears feeling hot. you've always had a problem with keeping your mouth shut, and apparently it still applies. you look up at him, eyes accusatory.

"i thought you went to the states." there's a taunting edge to your voice— rather shallow and childish on your end, but you can't help yourself. you're playing with life and death, but still you're angrier about your history with him than anything else.

"all those degrees just to scam people? i'd expect more from someone like you, mr. sangwoo—"

"you don't know what you're talking about," he shuts your words down quickly, voice firm. he's quick to change the topic, visibly agitated. "i thought you went to college. what happened to your—"

"father?" you interrupt, sitting straighter. "he got scammed."

you look at him pointedly as you say the last word, and his eye twitches.

"he gambled away his money on some non existent race. i dont live with him anymore and i need money to continue college and pay rent. my mom doesn't know and i don't wanna worry her." you take a sharp breath, voice getting lower, "my landlady threw me out before i found the ddakji guy."

his face softens with every sentence, an expression close to pity taking over. you hate pity, so you shut it down with a glare.

"don't give me that look," you sigh with exhaustion, running a hand down your face.

"i'm sorry to hear that," he says quietly, avoiding your eyes. he blinks a few times, adjusts his glasses. he doesn't know what else to say, and he's almost glad for the interruption when the staff walks in and announces the results of the first game.

it's so sudden how people begin to beg for their lives— kneeling before the guards, pleading to be spared. it makes you feel sorry and disgusted at the same time— you can understand why they'd do so, but you can't imagine kneeling before an organisation like this in any way. you value your dignity.

when the gunshot rings out to silence the begging crowd, the guard announces the second clause of the contract: a player who refuses to play will be terminated.

your head snaps up at the sound of sangwoo's confident voice.

"clause three of the consent form—" he steps forward, "the games may be terminated upon a majority vote."

the guard nods, "that is correct."

"then," he looks around, and his eyes fall on you. he looks away, and cocks his head to the side, "let us take a vote."

you almost feel that sense of admiration for him once again— he was always smart, that you can admit. more attentive than others, better at remembering little details. he's stepping forward to directly challenge these guards while people are begging for their lives. he's brave, like he's always been.

you fall in line beside him, and he looks down at you. you give him a slight nod, before your attention is diverted to the next announcement. the staff then show the money accumulated by the deaths of the previous player— 100 million won for each. as the massive piggy bank hanging from the ceiling glows, you can feel him stiffen at the mere sight of the money.

and the voting starts. your number comes soon enough— player 420.

you don't hesitate.

this money is not more important than your life. you need to consider all your options— you're not confident that you would make it till the end. and you don't want to fucking die yet.

you press the cross, and fall into the crowd.

sangwoo's number comes a while after— and you watch him like a hawk. you know he's a smart guy who knows better than to put himself in a compromising situation. you hope he'll help you go home.

until he presses the 'O.'

you feel utterly betrayed once again and he goes to his side of the crowd, not looking at you even once. you scoff to yourself, baffled by his audacity, before redirecting your focus to the voting counter. you start hoping your side wins purely out of spite.

player 001 presses X. your side erupts into cheers and you let out a breath of relief, glancing at sangwoo who stands frozen with his head lowered.

you don't remember much after.

the car ride feels suffocating— everything is dark. there's shuffling before you feel yourself being shoved, and you let out a yelp as your bare skin hits the gravel. "ouch— fuck!"

you hear your name— and recognise the voice.

"mister sangwoo?" you gasp, and hear a pained 'yes'. you can feel a cloth wrapped around your eyes, and your hands and legs are tied. you groan, shifting and writhing on the ground, impatiently trying to free yourself. you feel teeth on the front of your wrists before your hands are released.

you sit up quickly and snatch the cloth off your eyes. you turn to sangwoo then, and quickly untie his wrists. he grunts before sitting up, and the two of you untie your legs.

"shit, it's cold—" you hiss, quickly standing up. those bastards had only left you in a plain white sports bra and underwear. he was naked as well save for a pair of white boxers. the sight makes your skin feel hot, and you take a greedy but discreet glance at his chest before rushing towards your jeans and hoodie that are tossed to the side of the road, quickly getting dressed.

you clear your throat and turn around, only to see him quickly looking away from you, his clothes still in his hands. your eyes narrow knowingly and he wordlessly gets dressed, buttoning up his white shirt.

"are we still in seoul?" you ask, and he clears his throat, adjusting his glasses before looking up towards the buildings. he nods, and you shiver slightly.

he turns to you and hesitates before moving forward to put his grey blazer over you. you raise your eyebrows in question, and he doesn't respond before checking his pockets.

"are you hungry?" he asks, and almost comically in that same moment your stomach growls. he holds back a smile, and you wrap his blazer tighter around yourself.

you rest your head against the table while you wait. you can feel it pounding, but the smell of hot ramen tempts you to raise it. he takes a seat beside you and places the steaming bowl in front of you.

"do you have the money for this?" you cant help but ask.

"dont worry about it," he says with a wave of his hand, bringing out his chopsticks to eat. you decide to leave the job of worrying to him and get to eating.

you're a rather slow eater, and he doesn't complain. he steps out of the store, and you can see his back as he takes out a cigarette. you slurp up the rest of your food and follow him out.

"i don't feel that cold anymore," you hand him his blazer, and he turns to look at you. you're thankful about your self control, because he is a sight. so devilishly handsome even after witnessing such horrors— his cigarette teasingly hanging off his lips, the smoke wafting up and making his eyes squint just a little. his glasses make him look so much more sophisticated, or perhaps you have a thing for nerdy looking men. you're not a smoker, but he makes it look so good. if you were a weaker woman, you would've gasped. no wonder half of your childhood went by with that barely disguised crush on him— no wonder no guy your age back in college seemed good enough.

you clear your throat, bring yourself back to earth and continue. "you can have it. thank you."

he takes the blazer with a nod and puts it on. takes another puff of the cigarette, and watches you look around.

"i thought you'd come back with an american wife." you almost cringe at your own words. but conversation is conversation, you don't know how else to start. it's a discreet way to find out his relationship status, if any.

"marriage is the last thing on my mind." he responds quietly, taking a puff. you look at the side of his face, and his eyes stare at the road in front of him— thoughtful. you wonder what he's thinking about.

"where will you go?" he asks without looking at you.

you shrug, "i don't know."

"do you have any money?"

you pause, suddenly feeling a sense of dread. you have no money, and what little you got from the ddakji guy, you spent on your rent. which got you thrown out anyway.

your silence speaks volumes. he tosses the cigarette to the floor and stomps on it. you sigh.

"i don't have any money."

"come with me," he looks at you, gaze intense and serious. "i have enough for the both of us. atleast for a few days till we can figure things out."

"why?" you cross your arms over your chest almost defensively, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

he grits his teeth as he glares at you, mouth twitching. he looks away then, tonguing the inside of his cheek before returning your gaze. "you have nowhere else to go. it wouldn't be responsible to leave you alone like this."

you almost scoff— the words on the tip of your tongue. but you were okay with leaving me alone back then? but you don't say it, not yet, because you could use his financial help right now. you sigh, before nodding, and gesturing forward.

"fine, lead the way."

the motel he takes you to looks respectable enough. you look around, eyeing the plain decor. the man behind the counter looks at the two of you, and then gives sangwoo a toothy grin, which immediately alerts you.

"only one room available."

sangwoo doesn't protest. he doesn't have the finances to get two separate rooms either. he opens the room and you go in first, looking around. there's a single bed and some flashy lights, and it makes you roll your eyes. you turn around to settle him with a pointed look.

"it's better than i thought," he grunts, taking his blazer off as he takes in the scene. he steps forward and drags a finger down the side table, examines the dust it leaves on his skin with mild disgust.

you bite your lower lip as you watch him— his shirt stretching across his chest, his hair falling messily across his forehead. his glasses resting delicately on the bridge of his nose.

fucking nerd.

his gaze snaps up to you and that's when you realize you'd said that out loud. you wince, looking away and he straightens up, blinking innocently.

"you're still upset with me."

you cross your arms over your chest as you sit on the bed. you quirk an eyebrow, and he cocks his head to the side, eyeing you from a respectable distance.

you decide to play dumb.

"about what?"

he's not amused. he stares at you, expression serious and intense, "i didn't plan to stand you up that day."

so we're going straight to it, you think.

"then why did you?" you snap, unable to hold back the hurt from your voice, "i waited for an hour. you never came. i wanted to talk to you."

"i know." he nods. he walks up to you then, stands at the foot of the bed. "i know what you wanted to talk to me about. i was scared."

you freeze, looking at him cautiously, your heartbeat rising. "scared?"

"i knew you had feelings for me." he sighs, sitting down beside you. his voice is hushed, making the moment feel more intimate than you'd like. "i could tell that's what you wanted to talk to me about. it terrified me."

your breath feels like it's knocked out of your lungs. you swallow the lump in your throat, holding back the tears pricking in the corner of your eyes. "did anyone ever tell you that you're an asshole?"

he grunts, takes out another cigarette. he lights it up and takes a long drag— taking his time to respond.

"many people," he says, blowing some smoke through his nostrils. the sight almost makes your mouth water, but you ignore it.

"you're a dick," you shoot back dryly.

"what i am—" he points his cigarette at you, "— is too old for you. surely you didn't think it was a good idea?"

"you could've rejected me instead," you chuckle bitterly, "but you decided to leave me there to look stupid."

"you were too young." his voice is low, and his response almost makes you want to strangle him. he dusts some ash off his cigarette, adjusts his glasses, and looks at you with an intensity that makes your skin feel hot. "i couldn't keep you happy even if i wanted to."

you frown, gritting your teeth. he looks away.

"you looked at me like i hung the moon and the stars." he continues, looking ahead at the wall, gaze distant. "i couldn't maintain those expectations. we were in two completely different stages. you were meant to go to college, study well, get a good job, a boy your age—"

"stop talking like you're my father," you snap before he can finish, standing up. there's heat behind your glare and you almost laugh at his expression, "i had no expectations from you. so stop with your- your little— excuses. what's done is done, right? you've stood me up once, no need to reject me by wording it smartly. i don't wanna be with you anymore anyway."

that was a lie. you just hoped he couldn't see through your act. you're riled up because you're still affected by him, and his polite behaviour is driving you insane— you want to tear away at his walls, expose the passion he hides behind his smart guy facade. you know it because you've seen it in the way his eyes light up when he talks about his ambitions— how willing he is to cross any line to achieve what he wants. you want to butcher his self control and unleash the animal underneath, the one he's so desperate to hide. it's what made you fall for him in the first place.

he merely looks at you boredly, taking another drag of his cigarette. you snatch it off him, bring it to your own lips. he looks at you with mild shock as you take a drag, and you blow the smoke out on his face.

it all goes smoothly until you cough, and he's snatching the cigarette away again, watching you almost amusedly.

"you can't even handle a cigarette," he remarks dryly, putting it out on the bedframe. and that one line finally ticks you off. almost as if on instinct, your hand pulls back and delivers a sharp slap to his face— making it turn to the side. he snorts, adjusts his glasses again before he looks at you, unimpressed.

"you've been waiting to do that, haven't you?" he asks. your nostrils flare with anger. you can't hurt him physically— but your tongue is sharp. you'll use it.

"you're one to talk about different stages in life," you add, leaning towards him. a smirk curls upon your face, "look at you. all that ambition and experience only to end up scamming people."

out of the need to provoke him, your hand shoots out, jabbing a finger to his chest.

"how would your mother feel if she found out?"

it's a low blow, and you would be ashamed if it hadn't worked. it does its work to finally get to him. he grabs your wrist, and harshly pulls you down towards him, knocking your breath out. he shoves you on the bed and hovers over you, panting slightly. you chuckle.

"my life is hard enough," he hisses sharply, body trembling with concealed rage. his gaze drifts down to your lips before settling upon your eyes again. "do you really want to keep testing me?"

you can't help but smile smugly as you stare at him. there he is— almost on the verge of losing his composure. a few more quips and you're sure he'll crumble. it makes your skin feel tingly. your face leans up slightly, your hungry gaze drifting down to his lips. your hand reaches up, pries his glasses off his face. and then you flick his nose.

"fuck you."

the way his mouth comes crashing onto yours is animalistic. he desperately kisses you with the passion of a madman— his tongue entering your mouth and messily colliding with your own. as if to tease him, you bite his bottom lip sharply and he pulls back, eyes widening as a small trickle of blood falls down the corner of his mouth. his hand pulls back and strikes you across the face, and you can't help but laugh. your cheek stings and feels like it's burning— and you're addicted. you hope he'll do it again. you look back at him with an almost crazed look in your eyes, and you can see it finally dawn upon him that he's finally giving you exactly what you wanted.

"you're enjoying this too much, you little minx—" he hisses, grabbing your neck and kissing you again. your hands immediately reach up to his shirt, fumbling with the buttons as you try to keep up with his pace. he pulls away and tosses his shirt to the side, and you take that opportunity to use all your strength to flip the two of you around so he's the one on his back. it makes him gasp, and you look down at him with darkened eyes— a finger teasingly running down his chest, making him let out a shudder.

he's the object of all your desires for as long as you've ever known. the man of your dreams, the man that you kept comparing every single one of your college boys to. no wonder they never seemed good enough. how could they? they were no match for this beautiful man laying under you.

with a newfound vigour your head drops to his neck, licking and kissing every inch of his skin. your hungry mouth trails down his chest, breathing in the smell of him, leaving greedy bites in its wake. the sounds your actions evoke out of him are downright pornographic— soft, breathless groans that make you want to consume him entirely. his hand comes down to your head, holding you in place as you worship his body— and you moan when his fingers dig into your scalp.

your lips leave a wet trail and cherry red bites down his torso, until you reach the waistband of his pants. teasingly, you mouth at his bulge, making him hiss in return. his hips buck up slightly and you place a soft kiss to the material before leaning up to his face. his hands wrap around your waist and he flips the two of you over again, desperately tearing away at your clothes.

"i shouldn't be doing this," he mutters under his breath, talking more so to himself than you. you raise your hips and he pulls your jeans down, a throaty groan escaping him at the sight of your panties. they're almost transparent from how wet you are. he frees himself from the confines of his underwear and you watch with fascination as he holds you down with a hand on your stomach. you're panting when he's pushing them to the side and entering you immediately— making you scream from the stretch.

he clenches his jaw, squeezes his eyes shut as he buries himself to the hilt with a grunt. you choke on a pained sob, your fingers digging into his back as he grabs the side of your face.

"it hurts—" you hiss through gritted teeth, a tear running down your cheek. it burns, and he waits a second before wordlessly pulling back and thrusting again. the pain morphs into pleasure soon enough, and you whine as he falls into an easy rhythm, wrapping your legs around his waist. you whine in return, and he gives your cheek a light slap, prompting you to open your eyes. your breath hitches as he looks at you intensely— his own eyes glassy.

"not that young now am i?" you grit out with a glare, crying out as he retaliates with a harsh, pointed thrust. "y-you're my first—"

"fuck," he moans, his head dropping down to your chest. his thrusts get quicker, voice raspy and low, "don't— don't say that—"

"i always wanted you to take my virginity," you moan, throwing your head back, dragging your nails down his back. it makes him hiss, "ever since i was a—"

he slams his hand on your mouth, refusing to allow you to finish your sentence. "shut the fuck up."

he doesn't want to be reminded of the age difference between you two, even though you can tell it gets him hot. the moment his hand clasps over your mouth, you cum with a loud moan. your body trembles but he keeps going— not allowing you a moment to breathe. his eyes are full of rage as he bares his teeth in anger. you chuckle breathlessly against his hand, your eyes fluttering. he looks like an angry cat— you want to kiss him all over his face. his thrusts eventually get sloppy— he's close.

you lock your legs tightly around his waist, and he smacks you again. it surprises you this time, and he takes that opportunity to pull out, jerking himself off quickly.

"i can't afford taking risks," he grunts, clenching his jaw. you whine in response, pouting slightly, and he gives you an exasperated glare before he's cumming all over your stomach with a shaky groan.

you pant heavily as you come down from your high, and almost as if on fire— he quickly dresses himself. he pulls out a handkerchief from his blazer pocket, gently wipes off the fluids on your stomach. he just watches you on the bed— his eyes examining his handiwork. you notice his gaze lingers on your cheek. after a few minutes, he wordlessly gets up and goes to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. you roll your eyes as you pull up your jeans too. a few moments pass, and you breathe a puff of air through your nostrils.

"are we going to talk about this?" you call out. there's no answer. you get up and rush to the bathroom door, except he's locked it. you can hear light splashing of water. you scoff in disbelief, going back to the bed. you lay on your side and grab a pillow, your lips wobbling as you go over everything that happened.

this was not how it was supposed to go. he was not supposed to seem this detached. you'd expected atleast a cuddle after sex.

you don't realize when you fall asleep. it's morning when you wake up— sunlight streaming in through the window and directly onto your face, making you wince. you stretch, look over your shoulder.

sangwoo isn't there.

you immediately go to the bathroom. it's empty, though the tub is full. you frown in confusion before turning back to the bed. there, a note on the side table has you stopping.

'i'm sorry,' it said, in his handwriting. placed along with it were a few won bills.

you sniffle as you stare at the note— the writing on it almost mocking you. you crumple it up, your fist shaking as you resist the urge to cry. suddenly, there's a knock on the door, and it makes your entire body stiffen.

a card slides from the little space under the door. the same one you remember the ddakji guy giving you. the shapes on it just look sinister now. the number on it is different this time.

your breathing gets heavy as you stare at it— your head beginning to hurt. you're sure you can hear your ears ringing.

you're alone. you wonder if leaving in the first place was a mistake. your feelings are conflicted— and worst of all, you feel used and betrayed. you're not sure if you should go back to the games. you're not sure if you could survive without any money.

sangwoo had left. you don't know where he is and you have nowhere else to go. no home, and you don't know how you would face your mother. you don't know how long the money he left you could go on.

you don't want to die. but you can't keep living like this either. you bite your bottom lip as you contemplate your options, the hurt from sangwoo's departure still lingering in your chest like a stab wound.

you pick up the card and place the call.

tags: @movienerd3000 @testdrivethv @leebyunghunswifey @nerdybarbariancupcake @neganhore @k1ra-park3r @vivdolls @wab-i @stantwicr @creativerambling @yasmim-1007 @makethemgirlsgoloco @jamiewritesfanfiction-blog @captaincarmel416 @warlabels @ferrarifinnick @smlbch @izzyyann @meheheasasa @poooopy @endlessfl4mes @selfishlittlebeing @pillowtalk6 @antiromanticbaby @sky-forts-and-burning-citadels @flow33didontsmoke

#cho sangwoo #cho sangwoo x reader #park haesoo #squid game x reader smut #squid game fanfic #salesman x reader #frontman x reader #squid game x you #player 218 x reader #raven writes

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gilbertscurls · 3 days ago

Text

single ladies — matt sturniolo

The music pulsed through the dimly lit club, neon lights flickering in sync with the beat as Beyoncé’s ��Single Ladies” blasted through the speakers. The crowd was a sea of dancing bodies, energy buzzing in the air. You were in the center of it all, your body moving effortlessly to the rhythm, your laughter contagious as you danced with your friends.

Matt leaned against the bar, watching you with a tight jaw. His arms were crossed, eyes following your every move. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy as you swayed, especially as the iconic lyric hit. All the single ladies now put your hands up. You threw your hands up, imitating the move with a grin, your eyes sparkling under the lights.

Matt couldn’t take it anymore. He pushed off the bar and made his way through the crowd toward you. You were mid-laugh, flipping your hair back when he reached your side.

“Really?” Matt asked, raising an eyebrow. His voice was barely heard over the music, but the annoyance in his tone was clear.

You turned to him, still dancing, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. “What’s the problem, babe?” you teased, still swaying your hips to the beat.

Matt gestured toward the speakers as if the song explained everything. “You're really out here dancing to this song, while I’m right here?”

You laughed, stepping closer to him, your hands resting on his chest playfully. “Matt, it’s just a song,” you said, your voice light and teasing. “And besides…” You leaned in, your lips close to his ear. “You haven’t put a ring on it, have you?”

His eyes narrowed, but he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. You always knew how to push his buttons, and in a way, that made him love you more. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

You grinned, pulling back to meet his eyes. “Maybe,” you admitted with a wink, your fingers trailing down his arm before you grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the dance floor. “Come on, stop sulking and dance with me.”

Matt sighed but let you drag him along. As you found your rhythm together, your body pressed against his, his frustration faded. You were right — it was just a song. But still, the thought of you dancing to those lyrics would stick with him for a while.

“You really think you're funny, don’t you?” he muttered, leaning down to speak into your ear.

You smiled up at him, eyes gleaming. “I think I'm hilarious.” You lifted his hand and twirled yourself under his arm. “But maybe if you put a ring on it, you wouldn’t have to worry.”

Matt smirked, pulling you close again, his hand resting on your waist. “Maybe I will,” he said, his voice low. “Then you’ll have no excuse.”

Your laughter rang out as the song ended, leaving a promise hanging between you.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove, @ghostlythinggoingaround, @sturmatt, @chris-hallelujah, @goingtojohnkramershouseee, @wurlibydominicfike, @straw8berry, @shadowthesim, @courta13, @frankdelreyy

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totalswag · 1 day ago

Text

raw next question? pt 2 ⎯ RAFE CAMERON!

authors note the amount of support i got on my last fic is unbelievable, thank you so much. i tried my best for part two so i hope you guys like it. so, here you go 👀. raw next question

taglist ✎ ̼ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.

masterlist

summary after leaving a comment under rafe's post, he responds back showing interest and reaches out.

warning(s) flirting, kissing at the end, cuteness, and meeting rafe for the first time.

rafecameron: hey! bold move, I think we should talk.

The only thing running through your mind is⎯what the actual fuck. To be fair, you were expecting a response or comment, not even a dm. You don't know what to say.

"Okay, we need to think of something to say because," you hesitate for a few minute, "yeah, I don't have anything to say" you trail off before stretching the back of your head.

Zoie lets out a breath: "I say we wait to respond then once we come up with a response, send it to him."

Five minutes later, you open your phone, click on the text, and begin typing a reply. "This is what I'm going to respond with," you say, pointing to your phone to the girls.

yourusername: hey haha, thought I’d hop on the trend. didn’t expect you to reply tho.

Two minutes later, he responds.

rafecameron: oh, so I’m just part of a trend? damn, i thought i was special... 😔

yourusername: haha so funny, rafe

yourusername: i admit though you're attractive

rafecameron: ahh the truth comes out huh

rafecameron: since we're speaking the truth, you're gorgeous

Rafe and you started conversation among other topics. One of the main things you two found out is that you live an hour away from each other. By the end of the week, you exchanged phone numbers.

After Rafe responded to your comment, you two started leaving sly/flirty comments on each other's posts that spiked conversations between your supporters.

They're messing with us right?

They keep playing eye tag... HOLLA AT YO BOY!!

"Would you like to meet up sometime?" Rafe asked casually over FaceTime while searching the kitchen cupboard for something, his phone resting against a glass cup.

It's been a month since Rafe and you have been texting and calling. Constantly texting⎯quick responses. It became a routine for the both of you. Learned a lot about each other in a span of a month.

Your back was against the headboard as you sat on your bed. He wants to meet you in person, and your eyes almost pop out of their sockets. "Yeah, I would like that," was all you could offer.

Peeping over his shoulder, Rafe chuckles quietly and smiles. "I'm thinking this weekend if you aren't busy?" "I would drive to you," he says, suggesting.

You raise your upper body off the headboard and reply, "I'll send you my address the day before, I'm not doing anything this weekend."

"Perfect!" He smiles.

Today was the day⎯Rafe and you are meeting for the first time. Nervous and excited about all this. You don't want to make a fool of yourself. Rafe was forty minutes away, in the meantime, you were on the phone with Zoie and Evenly.

Rafe offered to drive to visit you, and you couldn't help but be anxious. He was an hour away, yet his attempt to see you meant more than you could express.

"Bitches I'm shitting bricks" you confess feeling anxious, running your hands down your thighs, walking around the kitchen.

"Y/N, it's normal to feel this way especially since you're meeting him for the first time. Take a few deep breaths and if you need anything from us, we're one call, and few doors down" Evelyn reassures you in a soothing tone.

"Agreed, you got this, it's normal to feel this way," Zoie expresses.

"Thank you, you two are such great friends, I love you so much" you say with honesty, your phone buzzes, you put your phone back.

rafe: five minutes away

you: perfect, see you soon!!

You gasps, quickly putting your phone back to your ear, "he's five minutes away um, I'll text you guys throughout the day."

Once Rafe got to the apartment complex, you walked down the stairs to where he parked⎯he was getting his bags from his trunk. You were amazed how tall he was too.

Before you can say anything, he turns around and says, "Hey, Y/N," with a smile that conveys how happy he is to see you.

Seeing him in person made you realize he's even more handsome. Rafe couldn't keep his eyes off you, he couldn't help but think how he's standing infront of someone as beautiful as you.

"Hey, Rafe, It's good to see you" you say, taking a big breath and gazing up at his towering body. You grin and lean into the hug. The height difference between you two is insane. He

"It's great to finally meet you; you're even more beautiful in person," he says to you, smiling. You chuckle softly at his compliment, "thank you handsome" and smile.

After arriving at your place, you show Rafe where everything is and where he will be staying—either your bed or the guest bedroom, which has been thoroughly cleaned and sanitized.

Rafe was happy to see your apartment and commented on how well it matches your vibe. He took his time looking around the apartment. Since you were already ready for the day, you spent ten more minutes in the apartment before heading out.

You have no idea what the plan was today. Rafe intended for a lasting and enjoyable day. You persisted on showing him around, but he said he wanted to be the one to take you places, even if he didn't know where.

"This is has been such a great day, thank you Rafe" you tell him with full honesty as you two get settled to play mini golf.

He looks up from the floor and responds with a kind, sincere smile, "I'm glad you're enjoying it." "I remember you mentioning you loved mini golf too."

He is able to recall the small details.

Your heart sank to your feet since no male has ever recalled the small information you shared with them. As you playfully nudge him, you exclaim, "I can't believe you remember that."

He chuckles, "I'm just good at remember."

Mini golf was a lot of fun, with plenty of laughs and competition between you two. In the beginning, he noticed your concentration and took out his phone to record you until you spotted him flipping him off.

Towards the end of the night, Rafe and you drove to an ice cream shop and ate it outside. You had little conversations and learnt more about each other today.

Before putting a scoop of his ice cream in his mouth, he says, "We should make a tiktok."

After contentedly leaning back in your chair, you decided to do it. In addition, many who support you have been wondering if you two will ever cross paths. They're going to be amazed.

she knows remix slowed.

Rafe began lip-syncing, his expression playful and undoubtedly attractive. When it got to looking like the Fourth of July, you're officially coming with me, he switched the phone to you. You were already staring at him, eyes full of admiration, unable to conceal the warm smile on your lips.

The camera returned to him, and he tried not to chuckle, tilting his phone downward as he giggled. The final second of the video showed your arms wrapped around his neck.

rafe cameron: 👀

tagged yourusername

Fans were blowing up the comment section.

⇾ fan23: DO YOU SEE THE WAY SHE LOOKS AT HIM!!

⇾ fan12: you know you have thirty minutes

⇾ fan1: i decided if i want y/n or rafe 😔

⇾ fan3: im sat for this

By the time you returned to your flat, the tension had grown to a point where it could no longer be ignored. Rafe took a step closer as you paused nervously by your door. His hand softly stroked your cheek, his gaze seeking yours, before he asked, "Is this okay?"

You barely had time to nod before his lips touched yours, gentle and languid, like if he was savoring the moment. The kiss was pleasant, but it also hinted at something deeper.

When you eventually pulled away, he leaned his forehead against yours, chuckling. "Best decision I ever made was replying to that comment."

"Best decisions I ever made was commenting" you softly say, smiling.

⎯⎯ my taglist! 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

✰ if you would like to be added to my taglist and be notified whenever i post please let me know in the comments or in my ask box. if there's a line across your name that means i couldn't find your account

@chenslucy @rosezza @mymultiveres @rafeyslamb @runningfrom2am @whorelaud @drewsephrry @drewizz @diqldrunks @starkeyvhs @percysley @francislovergirl @kiiyomei @sukuna-wafiu @skyslowalking @kneelarmhstrung @inthelibrarybtw @liliumz @lovingsturniolo @xoxosblogsblog @darkacademictrash @claudiamoscatoo @starkeysturniolo @ratgirlcunt @drewstxrky @eddxemxnson @raewontgoaway @definitelynotdomanique @isabellaxlilah @inlovewrafe @kravitzwhore @rafespreciosa @yanna2coolz @minyoon23 @stevesxwhore @bxmaaa @skywalker0809 @pwertiies @6r4cie @ifwfratboychris @sjmalfoy19 @dolletebun @drewrry @babypoguelife @fdl305 @outerbanksloverp4l @thesunflowersociety @earth2fae @sfotiegiuls @drewwhor @my-name-is-baby @alexxavicry @sparklyananas @yesshewrites1 @stxrz

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angelltheninth · 2 days ago

Text

How We've Both Changed

Pairing: Caleb x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, friends to enemies to lovers, clit stimulation, name-calling, degradation, rough sex, creampie, teasing, dub-con, body betrayal, forced orgasm, dom/sub dynamics, manipulation

Word count: 0.7k

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Caleb has an iron grip on my brain. I won't hear anything about it because it's not gonna get any better.

"Look at you. When did you get like this? So submissive and docile? Is it those... other men you've been hanging around with? Well it doesn't matter now, I'm gonna show you what a real man is like." Caleb growled next to your ear as he fucked you into your bed with the full intention of breaking you or it.

At first you were happy to see him. Even if he seemed a little bit different. But this was never the way you imagined he'd make love to you. Could this even be called making love? Because his love doesn't feel like the love you used to get from him.

Every sound was rough, every look judgmental, every thrust painful, every touch scolding.

He smirked as you let out a whimper, weather it was from pain or pleasure he didn't seem to care all that much. His fingers, cold against you, kept pressing and torturing your clit to the point it became painful. "This isn't about you feeling good, although I can tell that you are by the way your cunt is squeezing around me. But don't mistake that for my kindness, love." Caleb leaned in close. "I waited for you. Every day that was hell I kept going because of you. But you... you forgot about me the moment other men showed up."

"I never forgot. Caleb, I... always thought about you." You wanted to reach out and hold him but you only managed to struggle against the unyielding grip he had around your wrists.

Caleb smirked above you, his cock ramming itself into your pussy, creating lewd, wet, sloppy sounds. "Really? When you fucked yourself with those toys you thought of me? Or when you were on all fours, desperately trying to make yourself come? What about when you were with those other guys, did you want it to be me fucking you instead?"

His words hurt as much as the way he was fucking you did. "I never... I haven't been with anyone... in a really long time."

"Huh. Explains why this pussy is so easy. It needed a good cock. You'll never need or want for anything ever again, I'll give it all to you!" The necklace hung just above your face, clicking and shining, almost like Caleb was taunting you with it. His rigid cock kept hitting your sweetspot every time his hips smacked heavily against yours, causing your back to arch and your clit to push against his fingers. "So messy. God, you've become such a desperate whore in the time I've been gone. Your pussy is so good at taking cock isn't it. Mine. The only cock it'll be taking will be my cock!"

Caleb pushed his fingers into your already abused pussy and curled them upwards just as his cock sank in and stilled. "Ca-Caleb, Caleb, that's too much!"

"No it's not. No it's fucking not, I know you can take it. You can be good. If you were good for those other guys, then won't you be good for me too?" His voice dropped to an almost cooing tone. "Don't you want to be good for me?" He asked, his fingers curling again and again, each movement sending lighting across your body until your mind went blank.

"I can... I can't-!" You cried out, tears spilling down your face.

"You can. My love, I know you can. You will." His tone turned commanding towards the end, "You will come for me." With one last cruel flick of your clit you came with a desperate whine, your voice breaking as you arched off the bed. Just then he chose to let go of your hands, allowed you to embrace him. "Yes, hold onto me. I've got you, I've got you now." He chuckled against your ear, his fingers easing out of you and holding you against him with both arms as his cum filled your desperate, fucked pussyhole.

Desperate sounds kept falling from your lips as you shook against him, your clit pressing against his abs, your legs locked around his hips and pussy stretched to its limits. "Ca-ah-leb..."

"Easy, easy, I'm here, I've got you. I'm not going anywhere, I'm never leaving you again." His words were flavored with an equal amount of a sweet promise and a dangerous threat. "We're together again. Nothing will get in the way of our love. As long as we love each other, that's all that matters." The more he cooed those words in your ear the more you started to believe he was right.

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jsbluu · 2 days ago

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pillow humping | p. jisung

req here ★

➨ pairing: park jisung x fem reader

➨ genre: smut (MDNI)

➨ word count: 939

➨ warnings: pervy jisung, sub(?) jisung, i probably used the word “mess” too many times, reader and jisung are friends and he wants her sooooo bad

jisung knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you like this. not when you were just with him a few hours ago, sitting way too close on his bed, laughing at something he said that wasn’t even funny, stealing bites of snacks that weren’t even yours. not when your perfume still lingers in the air, the sweet scent reminding him of how intoxicatingly sweet you were.

he shifts onto his back and stares at the ceiling in hopes these thoughts will go away, but it’s useless. he can’t stop his body from reacting, his cock already straining against his pants—harder than it was before.

the way your lips parted when you spoke to him, the look in your eyes you’d get when you’d stare at him for a bit too long for it to be platonic, the way your fingers played with the hem of your sweater when you got shy.

his breath shudders as he squeezes his eyes shut as hard as he can, hoping, praying it’ll make it stop, but it doesn’t. he can’t ignore the heat pooling in his abdomen anymore.

he knows it’s wrong and pervy, and if you found out you’d probably be disgusted. but he’s way too fucking horny to think about morals right now as he gently runs his hands down his toned chest, stopping just above his waistband.

he knows he shouldn’t be doing this, but he can’t stop himself as his hand travels under his sweats and wraps around his rock hard cock. he lets out a small moan, bucking his hips up into his hand. he’s barely touched himself but he’s already so sensitive, so close to cumming, and that’s all because of you.

he moves his hand back and forth, using his precum as a way to slide his pump himself faster. he bites his bottom lip as he tries to stifle back a whimper, but he ultimately fails. he can’t stop your name from falling out of his lips, it rolls so smoothly off his tongue like you’re the one giving him this pleasure.

it feels good, but it’s not enough. his grip tightens, his thumb brushing over his tip and he swears under his breath, his brows furrowing and he becomes more hot and bothered by the second. still, it’s not enough. his hand is nothing to what you’d feel like. he can almost imagine it, your pussy clenching around him, your smaller hand wrapped around his dick, teasing him however you’d like.

he exhales frustratedly as he turns onto his side, his chest rising and falling unevenly as he blindly reaches for the small throw pillow on his bed. his fingers gently grasp the fabric, hesitating for a moment before pulling it closer.

he’s way too far gone at this point to feel shame, as he aligns himself with it.

“f-fuck..” he breaths out as he buries his head into the mattress as a way to ground himself. he moves his hips gently against the pillow, rocking himself against it to get any type of friction he can.

and just like that, any restraint is gone.

his fingers grip the pillow tighter as he moves, rolling his hips experimentally. his mind is a mess at this point, thinking back to earlier when you were in his room, on his bed. he sniffs the sheets, moaning out loud when he smells another whiff of your perfume.

“y/n..”

your name falls from his lips again in a breathless whisper before he even realizes he said it. but hearing it out loud makes it worse, makes it real. make his movements more desperate than before.

he ruts into the pillow harder, his precum leaking through his sweatpants making an already sticky situation worse.

he can feel himself approaching his orgasm way faster than he ever has, faster than the other times he’s made himself cum to the thought of you. maybe it’s the fact that he had you so close today, close enough to touch, but not enough to keep. maybe this was his way of filling in the gap of being close to you that he so desperately needs.

the friction is maddening, dragging over his cock just right, but it’s not enough. his body craves more, his pace becoming more frantic and messy as he becomes more desperate.

“y/n.. y/n…..” he chants your name like a mantra as he pictures you underneath him, your nails clawing and creating scratches at his back as he snaps his hips into you at an inconceivable pace. your sweet whimpers and pleads filling his ears and encouraging to go faster.

his voice is shaky and strained as his hips jerk a few more times against the pillow, approaching his orgasm. a loud whimper falls from his lips as he cums, his mouth wide open and his hands gripping the mattress so hard it starts to cramp. his cum leaks through his boxers and onto the pillow and the mattress, his white ropes coating his bedsheets and creating a dirty mess that he’ll for sure have to pay for later.

it takes a second, maybe even longer, to come back to reality. for his breathing to slow, for the haze in his mind to clear just enough to register the cold wet feeling of the fabric sticking against his body.

and then it hits him.

“shit.”

he pushes himself up on shaky arms, breath still uneven and face completely flushed as he looks down. the pillow, his fucking pillow, is completely ruined, and he can’t even begin to process what this means.

what the fuck did he just do?

a/n: omg this was so freaky of me.. this was supposed to be like 400 words max but ummm somebody got a little carried away! if you know me irl don’t read this Please .. also theme change coming soon be warned

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onceinablueberrymoon · 2 days ago

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i spy | husband!salesman x pregnant!reader

scenario: after their “chance” meeting a couple months prior, pregnant!reader befriended gi-hun, and the two began meeting up occasionally for lunch, much to the salesman’s dismay. but now that reader’s gained gi-hun’s trust, it’s the perfect opportunity to gain some intel. setting: a few months after season 1; please read part 1 and part 2 first for added context! word count: 1.7k warnings: pregnant!reader; deception (poor gi-hun); no use of y/n; second person POV notes: i love domestic salesman so much (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥) he will remain alive in my heart lol. there’s at least three parts left to this series, culminating in season 2 events. the next one should be coming soon, so stay tuned! this part is a big one, with lots of fluff, as always. please enjoy! borders by @enchanthings-a and @strangergraphics-archive!

Sunlight filtered through the curtains of your bedroom. You cracked open your eyes. It was morning.

Glancing over your shoulder, you saw your husband, still asleep. His expression was peaceful. ‘Good,’ you thought, ‘he needs it.’ He rarely got a good night’s sleep as he was regularly plagued by nightmares of his traumatic past.

You sat up slowly, resting one hand on your back and the other on your large stomach. With the baby due in a few short weeks, you tried not to overexert yourself. Not that your husband would let you, anyway.

You picked up your phone from the nightstand and noted the time: 10:00 a.m. It’d been a long time since you slept in this late.

Most of your unread messages were spam, but one text caught your eye.

Message from Seong Gi-hun: Would you like to meet for lunch? I’ll be passing by your area today.

You’d been rather proud of your connection with Gi-hun. Ever since you first met him at the Incheon Airport subway station, you’ve maintained a casual friendship. While he had never spoken a word about the Games, he often told you stories about his daughter and his friends. You suspected he was quite lonely and isolated, and he had yet to use much of his winnings. Even so, you had somehow become his friendly confidante.

You put your phone to sleep and closed your eyes, leaning your head back on the bed’s headboard.

Your husband and you had agreed that you would need to start asking Gi-hun for information about the Games soon. Although you knew where Gi-hun was most of the time, you didn’t know what he was planning on doing if he found your husband. He seemed determined to interfere with the Games, but you weren’t sure how he would go about doing that.

The goal was to learn more from Gi-hun, and you would begin executing your plan today.

You felt a shifting movement from beside you, and you looked down to see your husband cuddling into your side. When he couldn’t put his arm around your large bump, he wrapped it around your thigh.

“Comfortable?” you chuckled. He nodded sleepily, pressing closer to you. You ran a hand through his fluffy, mussed-up hair. He lifted his head to softly kiss your belly. Your heart swelled – you loved him so much.

“While I would love to stay in bed and cuddle, I have to get ready. Gi-hun offered to meet me for lunch.” You gently unraveled yourself from your husband’s hold. This seemed to have woken him up more.

“I’ll send some guards to keep an eye on you.” He sat up, reaching over to his nightstand to make a call using the landline phone that was reserved for work.

You groaned, “I’ll be fine. Gi-hun wouldn’t dare touch me, not while I’m pregnant. And besides, I have a cover story. I’ll say I saw you playing ddakji with someone on the subway, but keep the details vague. Easy peasy.”

Your husband didn’t look convinced.

“I’ll tell them not to wear their uniforms. They’ll be undercover.”

You let out a big sigh. You weren’t winning this one.

“Fine. But I’m not bailing them out if they get caught.”

“So I saw something odd the other day…” You said nonchalantly, taking a bite of your sandwich. Gi-hun seemed intrigued as he dug into his own sandwich.

“These two men were playing ddakji in the middle of the subway station.” Gi-hun froze, mid-bite. You continued, “Can you believe it? I thought ddakji was just some kid’s game, not something played by grown men.”

You ignored his bewildered expression. “And to make it even weirder, one man slapped the other after he lost!” Gi-hun looked at you with a thousand-yard stare. You cheered in your mind – you knew you had gotten to him.

“Gi-hun-ssi?” You questioned, blinking your eyes innocently.

“...What station?” He whispered.

“I’m… I’m not sure. Maybe Yaksu? My mind’s been all over the place late-”

Gi-hun cut you off. “Was he dressed as a businessman? Did you see where he went afterwards?”

You nodded, “He was in a grey suit. My train came while they were still playing.” You paused. This was the moment of truth. “What’s going on? Do you know him?”

Gi-hun took a deep breath. “You may not believe me, but that salesman… He works for an organization that kills people by forcing them to play children’s games for money.”

You snorted. “Children’s games? Like what, hide and seek?”

His expression hardened. “Exactly. But it isn’t just games. People died. I was there.” His voice dropped to a whisper, “I won.”

He proceeded to tell you everything. About the pink guards, the types of games he played, the frontman in charge… Nothing you didn’t already know, but you weren’t going to tell him that.

“And that man you saw, the salesman… He recruits players by playing ddakji. If you win, he gives you 100,000 won and a card to join the games.”

You did your best to look skeptical. Really, it wasn’t hard since most people would think he was out of his mind by this point.

But you gave him hope.

“I believe you, Gi-hun-ssi.” You turned to face him. His intense gaze softened. “If I see that man slapping people again, I’ll let you know.”

Technically, you weren’t lying, since your husband didn’t slap you at home (unless you asked, of course). You had both agreed that slapping people’s faces was strictly a work thing.

Gi-hun’s hand lurched forward to grab yours, but his grip loosened out of fear of hurting you.

“Promise me,” his voice shook, “promise me that you won’t approach him. Who knows what he’ll do… Especially in your condition.” Both your gazes wandered down to your swollen belly.

“I would never endanger my baby.” You placed a protective hand over your stomach.

Gi-hun gave you a tight-lipped smile. “I recently called my former loaner and he’s agreed to assemble a team to search for the salesman.” He let his head drop into his hands. “We have to find this man before the next games start.”

“This loaner of yours… How do they plan on finding the salesman?” You asked cautiously.

Gi-hun lifted his head. “They plan on searching the subway stations from 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. The salesman will surely be out recruiting people during that period.” He turned to you again. “I didn’t mean to bring you into all of this. If you see that salesman again though,” he looked at you, his eyes pleading, “call me immediately. I can’t bear the thought of something happening to you.”

Again, you nodded, this time with more conviction.

The rest of your time together was silent for the most part, an uneasiness lingering in the air. All that mattered, though, was that you had fully gained Gi-hun’s trust. But how much longer would you be able to keep it?

Returning home from your lunch appointment, you open the front door to see your husband lounging on the sofa, his feet propped up on the low coffee table. Upon noticing your arrival, he closed the book he was reading and put it aside.

“I’ve got some key information!” You sang, waving your arm to greet your husband. He smiled, standing up to meet you at the doorway.

“What did my detective learn today?” He took your hand and led you to sit on the sofa. He helped you put your legs up, then sat near your feet and began massaging them.

“Lots. For one, Gi-hun calls you ‘the salesman’. Funny, isn’t it? You’re not selling anything, but with your devilishly good looks, I’d buy anything from you.” He chuckled at your comment.

“He also said that he hired his former loan shark.” You let out a giggle. “His loan shark! The guy that Gi-hun signed his physical rights away to! I couldn’t believe my ears.” You continued, “Anyway, the loan shark and his team will be searching the subway stations for you.” You grimaced. “It’ll interfere with your schedule. They start at 10 a.m. and go until 10 p.m.”

Your husband let out a heavy sigh and pinched his nose. “So, the entire day.”

You nodded. “I can find more prospects aboveground. Parks, markets… There must be some in the suburbs too.”

He seemed lost in thought as he continued rubbing the soles of your feet.

“Another thing… Gi-hun told me to promise I’d call him if I saw you again.” Your husband looked at you and quirked an eyebrow. You took your phone out of your bag on the coffee table. “Since I found you, should I let him know..?” You teased, your phone dangling loosely from your hand.

“Oh?” Your husband smirked. “If you did,” he moved his hands up your legs to massage your thighs, “What would you say?”

You shuddered when he massaged a particular spot on your thigh.

“I’d say… ‘Wow, that salesman is incredibly handsome.’” Your husband chuckled. You laughed, “Then, to really rile him up, I might say, ‘Maybe I will play a game with him after all.’” You cocked your head, a mischievous smile on your face. “Or do you think that’d give him a heart attack?”

Your husband laughed. He moved his hands back down to massage your ankles.

The conversation flowed between the two of you for over an hour, when your husband finally tired of massaging your aching body. He escorted you to your bedroom, where you immediately demanded that you resume your cuddling session from earlier that morning.

As you snuggled into him, you sighed. “I’m going to miss this.”

He nodded, one hand drawing circles on your belly. Just then, you both felt the baby kick. Nothing out of the ordinary, but a kick nevertheless.

“Well, maybe I won’t miss that.”

Your husband’s repetitive circles were making you sleepy. But before you fell asleep, you heard him murmur, “I wish we could stay like this forever.”

As much as you also wanted everything to stay the same, you knew things were about to change. In your career, in your family, in your friendships… The next chapter of your life would soon begin, and boy, were you in for a ride.

#the salesman x reader #the recruiter x reader #squid game #squid game season 2 #the salesman #the recruiter #squid game fanfic #gong yoo x reader #squid game x reader #squid game x you #reader insert #pregnant reader #the recruiter squid game #the salesman fluff #the salesman x you #squid game fluff

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wholemeallbread · 1 day ago

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... TOXIC BOYFRIENDS AND EXES / ꩜

with ... nagi seishiro, itoshi rin, isagi yoichi x gn!reader

warnings ... cheating (rin), fem love interest (rin), lying (rin, isagi), parental issues-ish (isagi), nagi is just a bum (nagi), tiny emotional manipulation (isagi)

part one reo, sae, oliver

"SHE'S JUST A FRIEND" ꩜ ITOSHI RIN

you've known for quite a while that rin has had a... worrying childhood, to say the least. you're also aware that someone else has been his guiding light through his early teens, but is now long gone in the past. or that's what you thought. rin has been silent after hearing the news that his childhood "friend" recently moved back into town, but it's obvious that something else is going on.

especially when he's been visiting a certain house multiple times per week without telling you.

you've been aware of it for longer than he thinks. the moment you texted him "where are you?" instead of asking him to come home, he switched off sharing his location for good. he'll tell you he's just on a jog, but he's said it himself that he doesn't like bringing his phone because its too heavy. it becomes obvious when she starts coming to his games, waving and catching all of his attention while wearing one of his jerseys. you would know, because you accidentally stained one of them when you wore it.

even worse when his own brother that was miles away texted you, asking if you and rin were together. how did he even get your number? and why did rin not tell him you were already years deep into a relationship? oh, rin said he's stuck between the person he loves and the person he trusts? well, that shouldn't really be a question, should it? he should love and trust you, why is there somebody else that he could "pick"?

the break up was mutual. you could tell he was upset about it, but not as much as you, and you wonder why... maybe it's because he ended up in a relationship with said childhood friend only days later. you don't mean to pry in their business, but it's hard not to when you realise everywhere they go together, you've been with him before. this time, he's holding her hand, he's not hiding from the camera, he's smiling. rin has never smiled for you before. it hurts, it really hurts, but you're glad he didn't let things drag on. at least there's something left for you in his heart.

if he didn't love you in the first place, he should've just let you know from the beginning. it seems like you were some sort of test subject for his future.

BABY SYNDROME ꩜ NAGI SEISHIRO

nagi always puts in the bare minimum. you figured "maybe he puts in more effort for things he's passionate about?". well, one certainly is football; all of a sudden he has enough stamina to run a marathon and actually use his strength. since you're dating, he's passionate about you too, right?

keep lying to yourself. it's always you reaching out first, it's always you having to go to his house, it's always you waiting outside of his classrooms. on more than one occasion have you called him, been ignored under the thesis of "i'm too tired to talk, maybe tomorrow." and then being left on delivered for the next twenty four hours. and the cycle repeats over, and over, and over again. the last thing you wanted to end up being was a second reo (sorry to him, he's a lost cause) but when you're having to put his socks on for him like a toddler, unwillingly after he begs for help, that's where you draw the line. he's not a grandpa, and he's not sore. why would he need help?

it was unsurprisingly easy to break up with him. he let you go with ease, and it's not like he was going to argue to make him stay. one less person makes one less hassle, right? afterwards, it's inconvenience after inconvenience for him. now nobody wakes him up in the morning, or helps him with his missing homework, or does all of the work on group assignments so he can go "train". who's going to cook for him now? because it's not you or reo, and ordering takeaway is too much work.

nagi texted you to ask to get back together. you asked why. he said "it makes both of our lives easier". hell no.

MAMA'S BOY ꩜ ISAGI YOICHI

isagi is such a good boyfriend. honestly, you wouldn't be surprised if he was the one you ended up marrying. he's sweet, his parents are sweet, everything was perfect. was perfect.

you don't know where or when you messed up, but isagi's mom doesn't seem to like you that much anymore. was it how you got awkward and didn't know how to respond? no, usually his dad helps you through conversations. were you a bad influence? no, surely not. isagi knows his own standards, and sometimes his attitude is worse than yours.

nowadays, isagi looks a bit nervous when you ask to come over. your usual routine together was completely disrupted. you can tell he's subtly avoiding you or keeping conversations brief. he doesn't even hold your hand when you're walking around school anymore. this man willingly used to sprint from your period to the other side of the school just to make sure you got to your class safely, and now, nothing. and why is he wiping his hands with disgust when he's the one sweating buckets? he would've apologised if it was his fault, so it's something to do with you.

"hey, so... my mom doesn't want us together..." well, excuse you? he's stuttering, trying to come up with excuses, but you don't even want to hear them. having your healthy relationship broken up by his mom? and what if you married him hypothetically? would he willingly divorce if his mom said to do it? you know he still loves you, judging from his longing glances and half smiles in your direction. you know it wasn't completely his decision. but if he really loved you, then creating a barrier between the two of you when she wasn't even around didn't make sense at all. he would risk his life for you, but not disobey her loose commands.

on some random important day, valentines or whatever, he tries to ask you out. he wants to "start over". can you even be angry when he looks so remorseful? coupled with flowers, your favourite sweet treats and everything... oh, you swear you can see tears in his eyes. maybe you'll think about it.

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chlerc · 3 days ago

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hidden recordings ; charles leclerc

— summary; you never realised how sentimental and adorable charles could be until you come across the black box tucked away in a corner of a drawer.

pairing — highschool-best-friend-charles leclerc x f. reader ( third person story )

word count — 1172.

content — 5 short recordings he recorded just to remember you, and how he secretly wishes you’d stumble upon it one day. he loves you a lot, like a loooottttttt. you’re it for him.

NAVIGATION + author’s note: i love this vcr love confession concept so much, it’s so cute recording things and people that means the most to you. happy chinese new year :o

THE LATE AFTERNOON SUNLIGHT FILTERED softly through the window, casting a warm, amber glow across the apartment as she worked her way through the cluttered shelves. It was supposed to be a simple day of tidying up — a routine chore that had grown overdue — but as always, the small, nostalgic things had a way of slowing her down. Dust motes danced in the air as she opened an old, wooden box tucked away in the corner of a drawer, a box she had almost forgotten. Its contents were a time capsule of sorts, filled with small mementos and keepsakes that had survived the years — photographs, letters, concert tickets, and little trinkets that had woven themselves into the fabric of her relationship with Charles.

A small smile tugged at her lips as she sifted through the items, fingers brushing over the worn edges of a photograph of them as children, their innocent grins forever preserved in time. It was a testament to how far they’d come, from childhood friends to something far deeper, a bond that had grown over years of shared experiences and memories. As she dug further into the box, her hand paused as it closed around something unfamiliar — a small, black thumb drive, half-buried beneath a stack of old letters.

Her brow furrowed in curiosity as she pulled it out, turning it over in her fingers. It wasn’t labelled, and for a moment, she wondered what it could contain. Charles was never one to leave things lying around without a reason, and this had clearly been tucked away for some time. Her curiosity piqued, she reached for her laptop, a quiet hum of intrigue settling over her as she plugged the thumb drive into the port.

The screen flickered to life, revealing a folder containing five short video files. No titles, just numbered sequences — each one simple and unassuming, yet they called to her like fragments of a forgotten story. With a small click, she opened the first file, and her heart skipped a beat as the screen filled with the familiar face of Charles, much younger, his boyish charm evident even then.

He must have been in his early teens in this first video. His hair was a little unruly, the way it always used to be when he wasn’t bothered by appearances, and there was a hint of nervousness in the way he looked directly into the camera. He cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other before speaking. “Uh, hi,” he began, his voice cracking slightly with the uncertainty of youth. “So, I’m not really sure why I’m doing this… but I guess it’s just something I wanted to keep. A reminder, maybe. For her.” There was a pause, and he ran a hand through his hair, glancing off-camera as if gathering his thoughts. “She’s always been there, you know? My best friend… even though I’m older, I still think she’s way braver than I am.”

A soft chuckle escaped her as she watched him stumble through his words, that endearing awkwardness still as familiar as ever. The screen flickered as the video ended, and without hesitation, she opened the next one. This time, Charles appeared a little older, his features more defined, his smile a little more confident.

“It’s funny,” he said, the camera slightly shaky as if he were holding it himself, “I never realised how much she means to me until recently. We’ve always been together, and it’s like… it’s always been her. I don’t know how else to explain it.” His gaze softened, and there was a vulnerability in his eyes that made her heart ache in the sweetest way. “She’s the one person who can make everything feel right, even when things are a mess. I think, no — I know, I’m in love with her. I’ve been in love with her for longer than I knew.”

The words hung in the air, settling deep within her as she paused the video, feeling the weight of his confession even though it had been made years ago. It was a piece of him, captured in time, before they had ever taken that leap from friends to something more. She pressed play again, her heart caught in her throat.

The third video was taken during what looked like a school trip. The background was noisy, filled with the laughter of classmates and the hum of distant chatter. Charles was standing by a river, looking a little winded as if he had just finished some outdoor activity. “She’s going to laugh at this,” he grinned, breathless but radiant. “She always teases me about being uncoordinated, but she’s the one who nearly fell into the river earlier. I had to catch her — again.” His smile softened. “I wouldn’t change a thing, though. She’s… she’s my favourite person in the world.”

By the fourth video, she found herself holding back tears. In this one, he was visibly older, perhaps just before he left for university. His expression was more serious, the playful boyishness replaced with something more resolute. “I’m leaving soon,” he began, his voice quieter, as though he were speaking directly to her even though she wasn’t there. “And it terrifies me. I don’t know what it’s going to be like, being apart for the first time in… ever. But I know one thing for sure: no matter where I go, or how long we’re apart, I’ll always come back to her. I have to. She’s… she’s home.”

Her hands trembled slightly as she clicked on the final video, her breath catching in her chest. In this one, Charles was as she knew him now — his familiar face filling the screen with that smile that always seemed to disarm her. “If you’re watching this,” he said softly, “then you’ve found it. I wasn’t sure if you ever would, but I hoped you might.” His eyes glimmered with affection, his smile gentle. “You’ve always been the best part of my life. From the very beginning. I made these videos because I wanted to remember — wanted you to remember — how much you’ve always meant to me. I’ve loved you for a long time, and I’m going to keep loving you for the rest of my life.”

Her vision blurred as the final video ended, the stillness of the room punctuated by the steady hum of the laptop. She sat there for a long moment, overwhelmed by the depth of what she had just witnessed — memories of Charles, preserved like fragments of a love story that spanned years. Each video was a testament to the quiet, unwavering devotion that had always existed between them, even before they had given it a name.

As she closed the laptop, her heart swelled with an indescribable warmth. This was their story — one that began in childhood and grew into something more, something profound. And as she held the thumb drive in her hand, she knew that whatever lay ahead, they would always have these memories to hold onto.

#🕷⋆⭒˚｡⋆ chloe’s drivers #chlerc #charles #charles leclerc #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #cl16 #cl 16 #charles leclerc fic #f1 fiction #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic

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marauroon · 1 day ago

Note

I have a Lupin request where reader has back dimples and Remus hands rest there out of habit

Or maybe like three separate occasions, it happened something like that

Or just a really fluffy one-a shot that maybe it leads into something 🤨 but maybe kind it tv-14

𝐇𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬. (𝐫.𝐥𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧)

remus seems to have an unconscious habit of resting his hand at your lower back. it fits perfectly.

remus lupin x gn!reader | 1.1k | fluff | masterlist.

You never really thought much about your back dimples. They were just there—small, barely noticeable, not something people commented on.

Not something you ever expected to feel self-conscious about or, on the other hand, take pride in.

But then there was Remus.

And suddenly, they were all you could think about.

—

The Gryffindor common room is too loud, filled with the frenzied energy of students cramming for N.E.W.T.s. The library, while quieter, isn’t much better—every available table is occupied by students murmuring spells under their breath, scribbling furiously on parchment, or flipping through textbooks with the kind of desperation that only comes from impending exams.

You manage to find a space at the farthest end of the library, tucked away in a dusty corner where the lamps are dimmer, and the smell of old parchment and ink is stronger.

It’s peaceful here, quieter than the rest of the castle.

You’re halfway through a particularly dull passage in ‘Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts’ when a familiar voice murmurs near your ear.

“Mind if I sit?”

You glance up to see Remus standing there, looking exhausted but offering you a small, tired smile. His tie is loosened slightly, the sleeves of his jumper pushed up to his elbows, revealing ink-stained fingers.

You nod, shifting your things to make space.

For a while, it’s just the two of you, working in silence. Occasionally, Remus scratches something onto his parchment, his quill moving in quick, deliberate strokes. You try to focus, but it’s difficult.

His presence is calming, but distracting in a way you don’t quite understand.

At some point, you shift in your chair, stretching slightly to ease the stiffness in your spine. It’s then that you feel it—the lightest touch at the small of your back.

You freeze. It’s barely there, just the faintest brush of fingertips against fabric. A fleeting moment.

Before you can turn around, the warmth disappears.

“Sorry,” Remus murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes don’t leave his book, and his expression is carefully neutral.

You blink, shaking your head slightly. “It’s fine,”

And it is. Probably just an accident, a brief lapse in awareness. His hands must have drifted when he adjusted his position, or maybe he was reaching for something.

That’s what you tell yourself, at least.

But for the rest of the study session, you can’t stop thinking about it.

—

It’s freezing.

You hadn’t planned on being here, honestly—Quidditch has never been your thing. But James had insisted—“It’s Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, you *have* to come!”—and Lily had promised hot chocolate afterward, so you found yourself bundled up in too many layers, squeezed into the stands alongside your friends.

The match is intense if the way Peter’s shouting is anything to go by, flinching every time a bludger comes too close.

Remus is beside you, watching the game with quiet interest. He isn’t loud like Peter or grinning like Dorcas, but his gaze follows the players carefully, taking in every movement.

You shift slightly, adjusting your scarf around your neck. The cold wind bites at your skin, and you shiver involuntarily.

And then it happens.

One arm slips around your waist—steady, grounding. The other hand finds its place at the small of your back, thumb sliding into that tiny duvet beside your spine.

It’s warm. Even through the layers of your coat and jumper, his touch lingers, seeping into your skin.

You glance at him, but he doesn’t seem to realize what he’s done. His focus is still on the game, his expression unchanged. His thumb moves absently, brushing against the fabric of your jumper in slow, thoughtless circles.

For a moment, you let yourself believe it’s intentional.

But then he seems to catch himself. His hand slips away just as naturally as it had found its place, returning to his lap as if it had never been there at all.

And yet, the warmth stays with you.

—

The fire in the Gryffindor common room crackles low in the hearth, casting a golden glow over the worn furniture and scattered books.

Most students have gone to bed, leaving only a few stragglers, their heads bent over last-minute assignments.

You’re one of them.

Your Charms essay sits half-finished in front of you, but your quill is still, your mind too sluggish to focus. You rub at your tired eyes, exhaling slowly.

You don’t even hear Remus approach until he’s beside you.

“You’re still up?” His voice is soft, amused.

You hum in response, too tired to form proper words.

A quiet chuckle, and then—there it is again.

His hand.

Warm. Steady. Placed so naturally at the small of your back that it feels like it belongs there.

And this time, he doesn’t move away.

Instead, his thumb brushes over the spot in slow, absentminded circles. It’s soothing, grounding. He’s done this before—so many times now that it shouldn’t make your stomach flip the way it does. But it does.

And for the first time, you lean into it.

It’s subtle. Barely noticeable. But you feel the way his fingers press just a bit more firmly in response, the way his breath catches for half a second before he schools his expression.

The fire crackles, and the room is quiet except for the occasional rustle of parchment from across the room.

You turn your head slightly, looking at him through the dim light. “You do that a lot, you know,”

His brows furrow slightly. “Do what?”

You shift just enough to make him aware of where his hand is resting. His lips part slightly, realisation flickering across his face.

“Oh,” he says. And then, more quietly, “I guess I do,”

You could make a joke. You could tease him, brush it off, pretend it’s nothing. But you don’t want to.

Instead, you let yourself lean into him, just a little, and say, “I don’t mind,”

Remus swallows, his fingers flexing against your back. His voice, when he speaks, is softer than before.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Because I don’t think I want to stop,”

You smile. “I was hoping you’d say that,”

And just like that, something shifts. Something small, but important. Something that feels a lot like the beginning of something new.

#marauders #marauders fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin

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solxamber · 2 days ago

Note

For Valentine's Event🫶🏽 Azul, Romantic [Sleepless by Dutch Melrose]

"Everything leads back to you" || Azul Ashengrotto

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: Sleepless by Dutch Melrose

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 750

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Pining, Friends to lovers, Azul’s a little possessive

Azul doesn’t know when it started—this pining.

Perhaps it was the first time you smiled at him, eyes crinkling at the corners, laughter bubbling from your lips so effortlessly while he stood there, stunned, trying to figure out how someone like you had walked into his life.

Or maybe it was the first time you defended him. The first time you stood in front of him like a shield, words sharp and unwavering, cutting down anyone who dared mock him.

Or maybe it had always been there, lingering beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to take hold.

Either way, he knows one thing for certain—everything leads right back to you.

And it's driving him insane.

Every night, Azul lies awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, thoughts running in endless circles.

What if you wake up tomorrow and love someone else?

The thought alone makes his stomach churn.

You aren't his. Not really. You're friends—but not lovers. There’s something between you, something unsaid, something that sits heavy in his chest, making it hard to breathe.

But every time he sees you smile at someone else, every time he watches you throw your head back in laughter at someone else’s joke, every time he watches you slip through his fingers just a little more, his heart screams—

Mine.

And yet, he does nothing.

Because Azul Ashengrotto does not confess first. He does not put his heart on the line without guarantees. He does not chase after things he might lose.

But he wants you.

He wants you so badly that it hurts.

One night, he snaps.

"Azul?" you blink at him, confused as he stands in front of you, hands clenched at his sides, jaw tight. "What's wrong?"

"You tell me." His voice is sharper than intended, but he can’t bring himself to care. "What are we?"

You tilt your head, amused. "Friends?"

The word feels like a slap.

His grip tightens. "Just friends?"

A pause. You study him carefully, a flicker of something unreadable passing through your eyes.

"You tell me."

Azul hates how the words hit him, how they feel like a challenge. He hates how you look at him like that, like you already know the answer, like you’re just waiting for him to say it.

His pride wars with his desperation.

But then you take a step forward, so close that he can see his own reflection in your eyes. Your lips part, as if you’re about to say something—

And it’s over.

He caves.

"I'm Yours."

Your breath hitches. Azul swallows hard, hands trembling as he finally, finally says it.

"I've always been yours. And it’s driving me mad because I don't know if you’re mine."

A heartbeat of silence. His pulse pounds in his ears.

Then, you smile.

"You idiot."

And before he can process it, your lips are on his.

Soft. Warm. Real.

It takes him a second to catch up, to realize what's happening, to understand that this isn't a dream. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer, desperate to keep you there, to keep you from slipping away ever again.

And when you finally pull back, breathless, eyes shining, you whisper, "I've always been yours, too."

And Azul thinks—by some miracle, by some twist of fate, he’s won.

He still has sleepless nights.

Even with you curled up beside him, safe and warm, he still lies awake sometimes, watching you breathe.

His fingers trace the curve of your cheek, the way your lashes flutter slightly in sleep. His heart clenches.

Because even now—especially now—he’s terrified.

What if you wake up tomorrow and realize he's not enough?

What if you wake up and decide you want more—more than what he can give?

Azul has never been someone who trusts easily, and his fears have always been his greatest enemy.

But then you stir.

You blink up at him, sleepy and soft, frowning as you reach for him blindly. "Go to sleep, Azul," you mumble, voice thick with exhaustion. "You're thinking too much again."

Before he can respond, you press a drowsy kiss to his lips, barely a whisper of warmth before you nuzzle into his chest and fall right back asleep.

Azul freezes.

His heart feels too full, too warm, too much—

He exhales.

Closes his eyes.

Holds you just a little tighter.

And as he drifts off, he thinks—

Everything leads right back to you.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

#ˋ°•*⁀➷ valentine's event #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #twst azul #azul #azul ashengrotto

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isuggestforcefem · 1 day ago

Text

Forcefem February story: Nicole saves Ethan

Part one - Nicole

It began as it usually did. Nicole, a poor helpless orphaned young woman, with a story to make the most stoic of men sob, and such a great excuse for her to join the town. The town's eldest was wary of her. He knew, she thought. Or at least, he suspected something. Nevertheless. That wouldn't stop her. This wasn't her first, anymore. Nicole knew how to handle herself. Keep herself en guarde.

It did make her job less fun, though. She had barely any respite, needed a consistent story and a consistent character, every moment of her waking day. And she couldn't work at night, lest they see the light of her room.

Angela had been very lovely, on this part. The old woman had allowed Nicole to stay in her ex-husband's study, as it hadn't been used in years. Angela had lost him, she would say, on the lonely nights. He had walked out one day, and never came back. Taken by the night, she would say. Nicole wondered if she knew, too. She wondered if the creaks of wood she heard from behind her door were Angela, watching her, spying her.

All that to say it really wasn't a fun time. She yearned for the plan to enter motion. It had already been a month! Usually, she could have had cleared step one in a week, at most, but clearly, Diana's choice of town still lacked. She'd have to talk about it with her, once she was back. Even though Diana was her best friend and most trusted ally at the Academy, she still lacked a lot of technical skills. Maybe that was why the administration still refused her application for solo missions. "I ought to help Diana out", Nicole thought to herself. Her friend was her senior in experience and yet Nicole risked graduating before her.

Nicole approached the mirror. She was still as beautiful as ever. Surely, this face would be enough to sway most hearts. Her hair was undone. She grabbed her hairpin, held a strand of hair, and clipped it onto her hair. Suddenly, a swirl of magic took control of the brunette's hair, assembled it in a neat ponytail. She messed with it a little bit. Better not make it look too neatly woven. She had an image to keep up. She grabbed her dress, Angela had washed it for her. What a treasure of a woman. She almost felt guilty to betray her trust in this way. But then again, she always did. It never stopped her.

Going down the stairs, Nicole yelled "I'm ready!". Angela's brother had asked for a helping hand. It did upset her plans,, but she had to keep up appearances until the end. She could still do it tonight. She would do it tonight. She had faith.

The day seemed to never end. She had been gathering herbs for hours by now, but still Angela's brother showed no sign of going back home. At least the sun was still high. Finally, the man spoke to her. "I think we're done for today, you can go back." "Oh thanks," she said, without a trace of emotion in her voice. Finally, speaking her soul.

This place was boring. The local pub served frankly disappointing alcohols, and was only inhabited by things that were more of the decaying corpse than they were of the person. The town's center was usually occupied by a group of gangsters - guards - that looked at her like she was a piece of meat. Whatever. This would soon be over.

There he was, her target. A boy named Ethan. He had little presence, few friends. Nobody would miss him. Nobody would care.

She would.

He had short black hair, wore a white shirt and brown pants. She had seen boys like him by the dozen, and all of them had became beautiful, happy girls. He would follow.

"Hi," Nicole exclaimed brightly, with a little wave, "I'm here early! -Nicole! Hello, I am glad to see you. -I have a gift for you!" Saying this, Nicole reached for her bag's contents. There was a choice to be made; four rings from which to decide the step to take.

#fff25 #forcefem #cyoa #story #i did it chat I'm sick'nt (mostly)

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mangionebabymama · 2 days ago

Text

“six thirty” — Luigi Mangione

“Whatcha gonna do when I’m bored and I wanna play video games at 2 am? What if I need a friend? Will you ride ‘til the end?” - “six thirty” by Ariana Grande

Word Count: 3.0k

Warnings: LOTS of pining and yearning, sort of slow-burn online romance, but it's also platonic, maybe? This also contains some slight mentions of depression and loneliness; please proceed with caution.

A/N: Inspired by this ask from a while ago, where those particular lyrics of "six thirty" about playing video games at 2 am have always stuck with me. If you don't know this about me by now, I am a Cancer sun, and it shows. I am emotional, and I'm going to be an emotional writer. Please note that this is purely fictional, but these feelings are real.

The glow of Luigi’s monitor lit up the dim room, casting long shadows across the walls. It was 2 a.m., and the quiet hum of his computer was the only sound breaking the silence. He shifted in his chair, wincing slightly as the faded memories of his surgery still lingered in his movements. Recovery had been slow, and lately, he’d found himself retreating into the digital world more and more. The real world felt heavy, distant—like it wasn’t his anymore. Like he was watching his life happen from somewhere far away. His family and friends tried to reach out, but he’d been pulling away, retreating into himself.

His cursor hovered over his Steam library, scrolling aimlessly. He wasn’t even sure what he was looking for. Just something to fill the void. That’s when he noticed it—the little green dot next to your username. You were online. His heart gave a little leap, and before he could reconsider his decision, a notification appeared from you.

Can’t sleep either? Is it the insomnia again or were you hoping to see if I was up?

Luigi’s fingers flew over the keyboard for a moment, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite the heaviness in his chest. He glanced at the clock on his desk— now 2:01 AM—and then back at the glowing screen of his monitor. The room was darkling, lit only by the soft blue light of his computer, and the hum of the fan inside the tower was the only sound accompanying his thoughts.

Pep: Both.

The reply came almost instantaneously, like a reflex, as if you’d been waiting for him.

You: Figured. You’ve been on late a lot lately. Not that I’m complaining—company’s nice.

Luigi leaned back in his chair, letting out a slow breath. His back ached faintly, a dull reminder of the surgery he’d had months ago. The doctors had said he’d recover fully, but they hadn’t warned him about the mental toll it would take. The weeks spent in bed, staring at the ceiling, had given him too much time to think. And now, even though he was physically better, he couldn’t shake the weight that seemed to settle deeper into his chest every day.

Pep: Yeah, I guess I have. Sleeping’s been… hard.

You: Hard as in “can’t fall asleep” or hard as in “don’t want to”?

Luigi hesitated. You always seemed to know the right questions to ask, the questions that cut straight through the noise and got to the heart of things. He wasn’t sure if it was comforting or terrifying.

Pep: Both.

There was a pause before your next message appeared.

You: You’ve been quiet lately. Not just tonight—like, in general. Even when we’re playing. You okay?

He stared at the words, his chest tightening. How does she always know? He wondered. You’d never met in person, never even seen each other’s faces, but somehow, you always seemed to see him.

Pep: I don’t know. I guess… I’ve just been feeling kind of lost. I don’t even know how to explain it.

You: Try.

Luigi let out a short, humorless laugh. Leave it to you to cut straight to the point. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to find the words.

Pep: It’s like… everything just feels heavy, you know? Like I’m just going through the motions. I’ve been distancing myself from everyone—my family, my friends—but I don’t even know why. I just… I can’t seem to connect with anything anymore. Except this.

He added, gesturing to the screen even though you couldn’t see him.

Talking to you. Playing games. It’s like the only time I feel… I don’t know, alive, I guess.

The cursor blinked as he waited for your response, his heart beating a little faster than it should have.

After a moment, you wrote back.

You: You’re not alone in that. I think a lot of people feel that way sometimes. Especially now, with everything going on in the world. It’s easy to get lost in your own head.

Pep: But it’s not just that. It’s like… I’m stuck. Like I’m just watching my life pass by, and I don’t know how to make it stop. I don’t know how to fix it.

There was another pause, longer this time.

You: Have you talked to anyone about this? Like, really talked?

Luigi shook his head, though he knew you couldn’t see him.

Pep: Not really. I don’t want to bother anyone with it. And I don’t even know what I’d say.

You: You’re not bothering me

And you don’t have to have all the answers. Sometimes, just saying it out loud helps.

Or typing it out, lol

He smiled faintly, a warmth spreading through his chest that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Pep: Thanks. Seriously. I don’t know what I’d do without you.

You: Probably be even more of a mess

You joked about that last bit of your message, and he could almost hear the teasing tone in your voice as he let out a chuckle reading what you said.

Pep: Ya, probably

There was a comfortable silence between you both, broken only by the soft sound of his keyboard as he typed some more.

What about you? Why are you up so late?

You: Couldn’t sleep either. Insomnia’s a bitch. Plus, I was kind of hoping you’d be on.

Luigi’s heart skipped a beat, and he had to remind himself to breathe.

Pep: Yeah?

You: Yeah. You make the nights better.

He felt his face heat up.

Pep: You make them better, too.

Another pause preceded your following message.

You: You know, it’s okay to not be okay. And it’s okay to lean on people when you need to. You don’t have to go through this alone.

Luigi stared at the words, his throat tightening. He wasn’t sure if it was the late hour or the raw honesty of the conversation, but he felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He typed, his fingers lingering uncertainly over the keys.

Pep: I don’t want to be a burden.

You: You’re not a burden.

If anything, you’re the opposite. You’re important to me, Luigi—more than you realize.

His breath caught in his throat, and he had to blink back the tears that threatened to fall.

Pep: You’re important to me too.

His hands shook as he typed.

More than I think I’ve ever admitted.

There was a long silence, and for a moment, he wondered if he’d said too much. Yet, your response showed up, and he felt a surge of adrenaline in his chest.

You: Maybe we should admit it more. To each other. To ourselves. Life’s too short to keep everything bottled up.

Luigi nodded, even though you couldn’t see him.

Pep: Yeah. Maybe we should.

He tilted back in his seat, caught in a strange sensation of relief intertwined with fragility. He wasn’t sure where this conversation was going, but at last, he felt like he wasn’t alone.

You: You know…

Sometimes, I think about what it would be like to meet you in person.

Luigi felt a flutter in his heart once more.

Pep: Yeah?

You: Yeah. I think it’d be… nice. To talk face-to-face. To really see you.

Pep: I think it’d be nice too.

You: Maybe, one day, we will

Pep: One day, for sure

The cursor blinked on the screen, expecting the next words to appear. For once, Luigi felt a spark of something he hadn’t felt in months: hope.

You: Until then, I’m here.

Whenever you need me.

Luigi smiled, his chest swelling with gratitude.

Pep: Same goes for you. Always.

The cursor blinked lazily on the screen, as if it, too, was holding on for Luigi to gather his courage. He sat in the dim glow of his monitor, the rest of the room swallowed by the darkness of the early hours. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, shaking, as if betraying the weight of the words he was about to type. He swallowed hard, his throat dry.

Why now? He thought. Why does it feel like I can only tell the truth at 2 a.m. when the world is asleep?

But he knew the answer. It wasn’t the time that mattered. It was you. The way you listened without judgment and your words seemed to reach into the parts of him he’d locked away. You made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as broken as he thought.

He took a deep breath, his chest tightening as he started typing.

Pep: There’s something I’ve never told anyone.

He wrote away, his words appearing on the screen in a rush as if they were desperate to escape. He paused, his heart pounding in his ears. Was he really going to do this? Was he really going to lay himself bare like this?

Just as he was about to second-guess himself, your reply appeared up.

You: You can tell me anything, Luigi. You know that.

He exhaled shakily, his fingers moving almost of their own accord.

Pep: It’s about why I’ve been so… distant lately. It’s not just the surgery. Not just the insomnia. It’s… I’ve always felt like I don’t belong. Like I’m on the outside looking in. Even with everybody in my life. I try to act like I’m okay, like I’m fine, but I’m not. I haven’t been for a long time.

He stopped, his chest heaving as if he’d just run a marathon. His eyes darted to the clock in the corner of the screen—2:04 AM. The world was still asleep, but he felt more awake than in months.

Your reply came quickly, longing for him to say those words all along.

You: That’s a heavy burden to carry alone. You don’t have to, you know. You’re not as alone as you think you are.

Luigi’s lips trembled as he absorbed your words, a tight knot swirling in his throat. Deep down, he yearned to trust you, to hold on to the fragile hope that he wasn’t as solitary as he often felt. Yet, the weight of loneliness pressed heavily on him, an ever-present shadow that made believing in that hope a daunting challenge.

Pep: It’s not just that

He typed, his fingers moving faster now, as if they couldn’t keep up with the thoughts tumbling out of his head.

I’ve been struggling

with something else

Something I’ve never told anyone. Not even my closest friends.

The cursor blinked mockingly, sitting tight for him to continue. He swallowed hard, his stomach churning. This was it. The moment of truth. The moment he either let it all out or shut it away forever.

You: Take your time, Luigi. I’m here.

He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his courage. When he opened them, he started typing again, the words spilling out, his cup runneth over with transparency.

Pep: I’ve always felt like I was different. Like there was something wrong with me. Something I couldn’t put into words. It’s not just the loneliness. It’s like… I’ve been searching for something my whole life, but I don’t know what it is. And it’s tearing me apart.

His hands trembled as he pressed the enter key, the letters materializing on the screen in sharp black and white. A rush of vulnerability washed over him, as if he had peeled away a layer of skin, revealing the raw, bleeding chaos lurking beneath. It was an eerie sensation, as though he was standing naked before an unseen audience, laid bare and utterly exposed.

His heart pounded as he waited for your reply, each second stretching into an eternity. When your message finally appeared, it was simple but profound.

You: Thank you for trusting me enough to share that. You’re not alone in feeling that way. A lot of people feel lost, like they’re searching for something they can’t quite name. It’s part of being human. But you don’t have to figure it all out right now.

Just take it one step at a time, one day at a time.

Luigi’s breath caught in his throat as he read your words. It wasn’t judgment or pity that he saw in them. It was understanding. Compassion. And something else—something that made his chest ache in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

Pep: I don’t know where to start

He confessed, his fingers shaking as he typed.

I feel like I’m stuck in this… this loop. Like I’m just going through the motions, but I’m not really living. I don’t know how to break out of it.

Your response was prompt, as though you had anticipated him saying those words.

You: Start by being honest with yourself. About what you want, what you need. It doesn’t have to be all at once. Just take small steps. And remember, you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here. As much as you’ll let me be.

Luigi's vision swam before him as he absorbed your message, a lump rising stubbornly in his throat. He scrubbed at his eyes, fighting back the tide of emotions that surged within him—gratitude coursing through his veins, relief washing over him like a gentle wave, and a flutter of fear that danced just beneath the surface. Yet, amid this tumult, there was something else—a warm, comforting sensation enveloping him, as if he were being wrapped in a soft, reassuring hug that eased the weight on his shoulders.

Pep: I don’t know why you’re so kind to me.

He typed, his fingers moving slowly now as if each word carried the weight of his heart.

I don’t feel like I deserve it.

You: You don’t have to earn kindness, Luigi. You deserve it just because you’re you. And you’re worth it. Don’t ever doubt that.

He stared at the screen, his breath hitching. Those words—those simple, powerful words—struck something deep inside him, something he’d buried long ago—a tiny spark of hope, flickering in the darkness.

Pep: I don’t know what to say. I just… Thank you. For being here. For listening. For… for seeing me.

You: Always, Luigi. Always.

He closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt like he could breathe. Like the weight on his chest had shifted, just a little. It wasn’t gone, but it was bearable. And for now, that was enough.

Pep: There’s one more thing. Something I’ve never told anyone. Not even myself, really.

He paused, his fingers trembling. This was it. The moment of truth. The moment he either let it all out or shut it away forever.

You: You can tell me anything, Luigi. I’m here.

He closed his eyes, gathering his courage. When he opened them, he started typing again, the words spilling out in a raw, unfiltered stream.

Pep: I think… I think I’ve been searching for someone. Not just anyone, but… you. I don’t know how to explain it, but talking to you, it feels like… like I’ve finally found what I’ve been looking for. I know it sounds crazy, but—

Your reply interrupted him, cutting off his words before he could finish.

You: It’s not crazy, Luigi. I feel it, too.

His breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding in his chest. He stared at the screen, his mind racing. Did you really mean it? Or was it just the late hour, the vulnerability of the moment, making you say things you might not normally say?

Pep: Do you really mean that?

As he typed, his fingers erratically tremored; he couldn’t keep up with the thoughts tumbling out of his head.

Or is it just the insomnia talking?

You: I mean it, Luigi. I’ve felt it, too. This connection between us. It’s real.

It’s always been real.

Pep: I want it to be real.

You: Then let’s make it real.

His pulse quickened. The compulsion hung in the air, heavy and loaded. He’d thought about it—more times than he could count. He’d imagined what it would be like to hear your voice, to see your face, to feel your presence beside him. But it felt like a dream, something just out of reach.

Pep: But there’s so much distance. And I… I don’t know if I’m ready for that. If I’m even capable of it. I know you’re real, and this is, but I want to feel it, too.

The honesty in his words surprised him. He hadn’t meant to say so much, but something about the late hour, the quiet, you—it made it impossible to hold back.

You: I get it. I really do. But… what if we didn’t have to figure it all out right now? What if we just… let ourselves want it? Even if it’s just for tonight.

I mean… what if we stopped pretending like this isn’t something real? Like we’re just two strangers who happen to be online at the same time. Because we’re not. We’re more than that.

And… I don’t want to hide it anymore.

Luigi gazed at the words, his chest constricting. He felt naked and vulnerable, yet also… relieved. It was as if someone had torn off a bandage he hadn’t known was there.

Pep: I don’t want to hide it, either. I do want this. I want you. Even if it’s just like this, for now. Even if it’s just words on a screen. It just feels so real to me.

You: Then let’s stop pretending. Let’s just… be. Together. Even if it’s just for tonight.

He hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest. He let out a slow breath, feeling the pressure ease slightly, now knowing that deep down, he understood what he wanted—he wanted you, and at long last, you were there, waiting for him. He was no longer alone. At this moment, going forward for however long the night would last, it would be just you and him—and only you and him. And it was going to be real.

Then, slowly, he typed.

Pep: Okay. Let’s be together.

#mangionebabymama works #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione imagine #luigi mangione x prompt #luigi mangione prompt #luigi mangione fanfic #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione fic #luigi mangione x yn #songs about luigi #rpf #real person fiction

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chosove · 1 day ago

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Like a Friend | g.s

synopsis. Gojo fell in love with Utahime’s stepsister the second he saw her. Unfortunately for him, you were taken. You were also about 3 years older than him. It wasn’t fairing well for Gojo since you’d always see him as the awkward kid you grew up with.

warnings. Literally none LOL I think this is cute but let me know😼 I think some parts are suggestive but other than that I fink it’s good?!

an. Um this is my first time writing like a proper fic…bare with me🥲 let me know if u like it…if not don’t tell me dawg. if this is liked I will make more parts

wc. 2k-ish

Satoru still remembers the first time he saw you.

Or rather, the first time you saw him.

He was standing on your front lawn with Utahime in front of him, a hand of his reaching behind her head to slip her hair from the accessory she held it in. He’d just arrived home after his first day of junior high school, deciding to blow off some steam upon seeing his favorite upperclassman.

“Give it back, Gojo!” Utahime shrieked, one hand gripping the hair now hanging down her shoulders after being freed from the bow she’d tied it into.

Satoru smirked as he continued to bounce the accessory above the older girl's head, laughing at her attempts to reach the ribbon.

“Aw c’mon ‘hime, ya gonna cry?” He taunted, delighting in the cherry red color her cheeks were painted with, her face contorting into pure rage.

“This is not how you treat those who are older than you!” Utahime shouted at him, now lunging towards his neck with her arms stretched out as he held her back with a hand on her forehead.

Before he could come up with a quick retort, he heard a voice speak behind him.

“Hmmm? And what would you know about respect, Utahime?”

Gojo lost focus when he turned towards the source of the sweet sound, heat rising to his cheeks as he made eye contact with the girl he identified as Utahime’s new stepsister (like really new. like, ‘6 months ago’ new. not that he kept tabs on Utahime- he’d just remember if he saw a pretty girl). Using his state of awe to her advantage, Utahime kicked at Satoru’s knees, knocking him to the ground before landing on him with a grunt and pulling her ribbon from his hands.

“First of all, you’re only like a year older than me. Second, do NOT group me in with him.“ she grimaced as she spoke the last word, a disgusted nudge of her chin towards the man on the ground.

You scoffed at her remark, finally looking towards the eyes that were burning a hole into you. “whatever you say ‘hime.“

Gojo blushed fiercely as you continued to make eye contact with him while saying the same things he did. “Doesn't really seem like you two hate each other right now…I’d go as far as saying I see a spark.”

Realizing the position he was in, he quickly shoved Utahime off of his body, ignoring the grunt that left her as she fell onto her back.

“Ew!” Gojo shouted, turning to you once he’d gotten up. “S-she wishes she were my type, as if.”

Did he just stutter?

Sure, he was a loser that loved digimon and unexplained physics problems, but usually he was the one to make people stutter. Even if he used too much axe body spray and had the odd pimple or ten- he was undeniably beautiful.

You smirked at his shy demeanor, a drastic change from the boy who had just been tormenting your younger sister in a way you thought only yourself capable of.

You turned once again towards Utahime. “You coming for dinner or you just gonna play with your boyfriend all night?” your voice teased, giggling at the anger emanating from your younger sister.

Glancing away after seeing her nod, you made eye contact with the young man in front of you- his intense gaze scanning all your features as if to memorize them.

“You’re really good at getting on her nerves y’know. She talks about how much she hates you like, all the time.”

You leaned in towards his ear before continuing. “Don't worry, I’ll put in a good word for you.”

Before he could emphasize that they really were just friends (even if Utahime says the opposite), you were skipping off to the door of your house.

It was that day he fell for you.

It wasn’t until about…eight years later Satoru realized he was not gonna get over you. He also realized after all these years, that maybe he wasn’t that normal about his crushes. Not in the “I’m sooo crazy, I found her moms facebook!” way- no, it was much worse.

“Listen Satoru, y’know I’m gonna support your weird shit like you do mine” Suguru sighed, shaking his head in disapproval as they continued walking deeper into the Victoria’s Secret you worked at. “But isn’t this kinda…too much? How do you even know she’s working today? Or wait, how do you even know she works here?”

Satoru rolled his eyes as if his best friend had just asked the most obvious question. “I looked at her schedule? Duh?” he scoffed, pausing to look at a matching set he just knew you’d look perfect in. Did you own anything from here? Were you required to wear this kinda stuff since it was your job? Your whole wardrobe was probably filled with lacy sets that would just be so easy to rip-

“Dude,” Suguru spoke while waving his hand in front of Satoru’s face. “I’m gonna ignore the borderline stalker shit you just said, plus the fact you’re gonna cream your pants while touching some discount thongs, but why would she even talk to the creepy guys from her neighborhood?”

Suguru had endured every awkward stage Satoru went through- mostly because he was right next to him for it all. From their secret obsession with soap operas and cheesy rom-coms, all the way to those nights of stealing their parents alcohol which would end with Satoru crying as he wondered why you wouldn’t like him back- Suguru stayed.

Unfortunately for Satoru, the boyish charm of this crush wore off when Satoru started doing lowkey scary shit like finding out where and when you worked, for example.

Gently setting down the lingerie he had made a mental note to buy as a first date gift for you (he wasn’t getting ahead of himself, you were gonna be head over heels in no time), he shook his head at his best friend.

“Suguru, Suguru, Suguru” he sighed, placing his hands on his friends shoulders in exasperation. “Obviously you know nothing about love- first of all” Satoru began, puffing his chest out to signal he had no shame over his crush-turned-obsession. “Girls love surprises and grand gestures. This is like, two in one. Second, I didn’t STALK. I mean sure, I did beg Utahime to use the washroom since I ‘conveniently lost my key’ just to get into their house…but thats like, cute.”

Satoru was glad to finally put an end to Suguru’s disapproval when he saw his friend's mouth agape, proud of his actions which were 100% reasonable to him. It wasn’t until he felt a soft hand snake around his shoulders that he realized Suguru still thought he was psycho, it was just the person he was psycho about that made Suguru’s jaw drop.

“Moving this fast with our little ‘hime, hm?”

Snapping back, Satoru flushed deeply at your implication, also wondering how much you’d just heard.

“N-no way!” Gojo nearly shouted, hands desperately waving in front of him to indicate that the only person he’d ever consider in Utahime’s family was you.

You giggled at his wide eyes as you shoved his shoulder, the melody of your laughter becoming his new favourite sound. “I’m kidding ‘toru,”

Oh.

Oh God.

He really was gonna cream his pants- would it be weird if he called you a nickname too? He had so many he wanted to try out, plus he had the practice to back it up- he spent so many nights trying out the different pet names he could call you while he thought of caressing your body, the sound of your voice crying toru toru toru ringing in his ears as he-

“I’m assuming you’re here for a girl though, yeah?” you questioned, watching as the boy behind him shoved Gojo forward. He got so lost in his thoughts that he forgot the main topic of all his wet dreams was right in front of him.

Awaiting his nod of confirmation, you reached across him to grab a light blue pair of lingerie, body pressed against his while you dug through the bins of lace behind him.

He’d be more excited over the color and the fact it matched his eyes if it weren’t for the fact he could feel your tits pressed right against him.

Would it be wrong if he took a peak? Maybe he could pretend to fall and ‘accidentally’ land face first into your chest.

“This one’s my boyfriend's favorite.” you sighed dreamily, fingers running against the frilly edges while you reminisced on what he assumed to be very mediocre nights with your boyfriend.

Huh.

“Looks good on, but even better off” you spoke, outlining the pretty floral details detailing the set. You leaned in to speak in his ear, “plus, it’s super easy to remove, if you get what I mean.” finishing with a wink.

He gulped and nodded at your (far too extensive in his opinion) knowledge.

“S-sounds good, can you ring me up?” Satoru asked, grabbing the set from your hands and racing to the register.

You and Suguru both stared at his broad back nearly falling on his way to the checkout, a curious smirk forming on your lips before you strolled over to the counter. It felt weird seeing the little kids next door grow into…men. Of course Satoru was buying lingerie- he’d grown so handsomely into his lanky feature, now filling out the shirts that you swore were baggy on him just a few years ago.

You carefully scanned the set, folding it oh so prettily before placing it in the sleek black bag, finishing the purchase with a hot pink tissue paper to cushion the bag. Satoru watched your hands methodically do this process as his mind went a hundred miles a minute.

No, Satoru didn’t know what size it was.

Yes, he was devastated at the fact you had some sleazy, lowlife boyfriend (who wasn’t him).

Yes, he was painfully hard from your proximity and suggestive language.

As far as priorities go for him, his goal right now was to successfully make it out of here without you seeing the heartbreak on his face or the fact he got a boner after being near you for like 5 minutes.

It felt like years before you finally passed him the card machine, beginning to speak but quickly being cut off as a beep! rang out and the bag was ripped from your hands. “Did you need a recei-“

“NO THANKS GOTTA GO SEEYOULATERMAYBETHANKSBYETHANKS” Satoru shouted, crumpling the package in his hands and speeding out the doors to his car, Suguru on his tail.

It wasn’t until he was out of the mall that he finally took a breath, the realization that fuck, he actually didn’t have a chance with you? really hitting him.

Yeah, he was a creep who sometimes stared with his mouth open for a bit too long when you would ask him something. And okay sure you saw his awkward phase with braces, then the lisp he had from retainers, then braces again because he didn’t wear his retainers- but still, he was attractive enough right?

Preparing for a scolding from Suguru for almost leaving him behind, Satoru didn’t hide the heartbreak written across his face.

“Hey, I’m sorry man…There’s so many girls who’d die to get a chance with you, don’t worry” Suguru comforted, patting his friends back as he rested his head on the steering wheel.

mumbling something to the floor of the car, Satoru groaned loudly before finally picking his head up. “Not worried. just annoyed. Gonna be harder now.” Satoru whined, closing his eyes as he recalled the way you bit your lip and squeezed his arms. Was he imagining it or did you need him just as bad?

Hearing no clever retort from his friend, Satoru turned his head to find Suguru with pure confusion etched on his features.

“Fuck it. Never let your boyfriend stop you from finding your husband, right?” Satoru spoke, key turning in the ignition as he was filled with a new dedication.

One way or another, Satoru was going to make you see how good you two would be together.

Preferably an easy way where you confessed your love to him first so he didn’t have to fold, but somehow nonetheless.

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luvfae · 1 day ago

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LINES CROSSED

part 2

summary: thanos has always had a thing for his best friends girlfriend.

pairings: thanos (choi su-bong) x f!reader (nam-gyu x f!reader)

warnings: cheating, swearing, smut, fingering, alcohol use

Thanos had always noticed you.

Maybe it was because you were Nam-Gyu’s girlfriend—off-limits, untouchable, the one thing he wasn’t supposed to want. But it wasn’t just that. It was the way your laughter filled a room like it belonged there, the way you chewed your bottom lip when you were deep in thought, the way your eyes sometimes dimmed when Nam-Gyu wasn’t looking.

He could treat you better…

Okay, that might be a lie. But he definitely couldn’t treat you worse than Nam-Gyu does.

That’s probably why he always insisted on sleeping over.

Tonight wasn’t any different—except for the fact that Nam-Gyu had passed out on the couch, empty bottles clinking softly when he shifted in his drunken sleep. The TV flickered with some late-night rerun, casting dull blue shadows across the room.

Thanos found you in the kitchen, sleeves pushed up, washing the dishes left over from dinner. The soft sound of running water mixed with the faint hum of the refrigerator. You looked tired, your face drawn in a way that made something sharp twist in his chest.

He stepped closer, leaning against the bench at first, just watching. Then, without thinking—or maybe thinking too much—he moved behind you, his presence unmistakable as he stood close enough that you could feel the heat of him at your back.

You stiffened slightly, your hands pausing in the soapy water before resuming, slower this time.

“Thanos,” you whispered, your voice a soft warning, glancing over your shoulder toward the living room. Towards your boyfriend. “Why are you standing so close to me?”

A crooked smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, though his heart felt heavier than it should. “Relax,” he murmured, his voice low, almost tender. “I’m just… helping.”

“Helping?” you echoed, a dry laugh escaping before you could stop it.

His hands hovered for a second, uncertain, before resting lightly on your waist. Just enough to feel the warmth through the thin fabric of your shirt, just enough to make your breath hitch.

“This isn’t—” you started, but the words caught somewhere between your throat and your heart.

Thanos leaned in, his breath warm against the shell of your ear. “He doesn’t see you,” he said quietly, not as an accusation, just a fact. “Not the way I do.”

You closed your eyes, fingers tightening around the edge of the sink. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” His voice was softer now, almost a whisper. “Tell me you don’t feel it.”

You turned to face him then, the space between you impossibly small. His eyes met yours, filled with something raw and unspoken. He wasn’t smiling anymore.

“We shouldn’t…” your voice broke slightly, but you didn’t move away.

He reached up, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, lingering a second too long. His touch was light, but the weight of it felt like gravity pulling you under.

His free hand lingered at your waist, fingers splayed like he was memorizing the shape of you, hesitant yet deliberate. Slowly, his touch drifted lower, tracing the curve of your hip, the warmth of his palm seeping through the thin fabric.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding—not just from the closeness but from everything unspoken hanging between you.

“What are you doing?” you breathed, your voice barely more than a whisper, shaky and uncertain.

But he didn’t stop. His hand slid beneath the hem of your shirt, fingers grazing the bare skin of your stomach, trailing downward with a feather-light touch that sent a shiver through you.

His hand slipped beneath the waistband of your pajama pants, not moving—just resting there, a quiet pressure against your skin. It wasn’t bold or hurried. It was deliberate. Teasing. Testing.

The warmth of his palm was enough to send a ripple of awareness through you, your breath hitching in the silence between you. He didn’t push further, didn’t demand anything. He just stayed there, like he was waiting—for permission, for a sign, for you.

Your fingers gripped the edge of the countertop, knuckles white, as if grounding yourself could silence the noise in your head.

“Thanos,” you whispered, his name catching in your throat like a secret you weren’t supposed to keep.

But his only response was a quiet exhale against your skin, his fingertips pressing just slightly deeper—not enough to cross the line, but enough to remind you how thin that line really was.

And the worst part? You didn’t want him to move his hand.

You wanted him to stay right there.

You squeezed your eyes shut, torn between the guilt twisting in your chest and the undeniable pull that had been there for longer than you wanted to admit.

His forehead rested against the side of your head, his breath warm against your temple. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice rough, strained like it cost him something just to ask.

But you didn’t.

And that was the problem.

“Keep going,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could catch them, fragile and breathless—an admission, a surrender, a fracture in the loyalty you thought you had for Nam-Gyu.

Thanos didn’t hesitate. A slow, knowing smirk curved at the corner of his mouth, but there was something else in his eyes—something darker, something that said he’d wanted this for longer than he’d ever admit.

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that wasn’t rough, but it wasn’t gentle either. It was somewhere in between—like he was testing the waters and claiming them all at once. His hand stayed where it was, the heat of his touch anchoring you in the chaos of it all.

Your hands found his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, as if holding on could somehow ground you in a reality that was already slipping away.

His lips trailed from your mouth to the edge of your jaw, down to the curve of your neck, breathing you in like he was trying to memorize the moment. His fingers moved with the same quiet intensity, a slow, deliberate rhythm that unraveled you piece by piece.

A soft, involuntary sound escaped your lips—a breathy, broken thing that made him pause just long enough to glance at you, his gaze sharp and unreadable. Then, without a word, he picked up where he left off, his touch precise, like he knew exactly what you needed before you did.

And in that stolen moment, with the world narrowing down to just his touch, his breath, his presence—you didn’t think about Nam-Gyu.

You only thought about Thanos.

His fingers worked your folds with practiced precision, working you patiently until you were soaked beneath his touch.

His fingers curled with precision, finding that spot—the one that unraveled you in an instant, stealing the breath from your lungs and sending a sharp rush of heat through your entire body. It was effortless for him, like he knew exactly where to touch, exactly how to make you fall apart.

“Shit,” you gasped, your voice a fragile whisper, trembling at the edges. Your legs felt unsteady, the tension coiling tighter with every subtle movement, your body reacting before your mind could catch up.

Your fingers gripped the counter for support, knuckles white, as your core clenched around him, a wave of sensation crashing over you, sharp and blinding-like the world had narrowed down to nothing but his touch, his presence, and the way he made you feel.

Thanos didn’t let up, his movements deliberate, like he was reading every reaction etched across your face, every shudder that rippled through you. His breath was warm against the side of your neck, uneven now, like he wasn’t as unaffected as he tried to seem.

Your grip on the counter tightened even more, the cool surface grounding you while the rest of you felt like it was unraveling at the seams. The room seemed too quiet, save for the soft, ragged breaths you both couldn’t control.

He leaned in closer, his lips grazing the edge of your jaw, not quite a kiss, more like a question he already knew the answer to. “Look at you,” he murmured, his voice rough, low, filled with something dark and satisfied. “Falling apart for me.”

You didn’t have the strength—or maybe the will—to argue. Your head tilted back slightly, giving in to the pull, your body betraying every protest your mind wanted to form.

But then, a noise.

A quiet shuffle from the living room.

Nam-Gyu.

The weight of reality crashed back over you like cold water. Your breath hitched, your heart pounding now for an entirely different reason. Thanos froze, his hand still, his eyes flickering toward the half-open door.

You both stayed like that, suspended in the tension, not touching but not pulling away either.

And in that moment, you weren’t sure which was worse—being caught or the fact that part of you didn’t care.

Panic suddenly surged through you, sharp and cold. Without thinking, you pushed Thanos away, your hands flat against his chest. His warmth lingered even as the distance grew between you.

You hastily adjusted your clothes, fingers trembling as you smoothed out the fabric, trying to erase any trace of what had just happened. Your heart raced, not from what Thanos had done, but from how badly you didn’t want to stop.

Seconds later, Nam-Gyu stumbled into the kitchen, his steps heavy and unsteady. His eyes were glassy, words slurred as he squinted at the two of you. “What are you two doing?”

You forced a smile, turning back to the sink, the cold water biting at your fingertips as if trying to wash away more than just the dishes. “Cleaning up,” you replied, keeping your voice light, casual. You were grateful for the haze in his eyes because if he’d been sober, he would’ve noticed the flush on your cheeks, the way your hands shook just slightly.

Thanos leaned lazily against the counter, not a trace of guilt in his expression. “Just keeping your girl company,” he said smoothly, that same infuriating smirk tugging at his lips.

Nam-Gyu grinned, oblivious. “Wanna play a video game?”

Thanos pushed off the counter with an easy nod. “Yeah, sure.”

As he passed Nam-Gyu, he threw a glance over his shoulder—right at you. His eyes dark, filled with something unspoken, something dangerous. And then, as if it wasn’t enough, he brought his fingers to his lips, slow and deliberate, sucking them clean with a lazy confidence that made your knees weak all over again.

You swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the sink like it could anchor you.

When they disappeared into the living room, laughter echoing behind them, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. You leaned against the counter, closing your eyes for a moment, your heart still racing, your thoughts tangled in knots.

The problem wasn’t just what had happened.

The problem was that you weren’t done.

And the ache settling deep in your chest—and lower—told you exactly that.

#choi subong x reader #choi subong smut #thanos x reader #thanos smut #choi su bong #thanos #player 230 x reader #player 230 smut #player 230 #squid game

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