#someone made that they MADE that and they shared it

[pucksandpower]

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chef!Max Verstappen x vegan!Reader

Summary: in which an unstoppable force (the stubborn Michelin-starred chef of a glitzy steakhouse) meets an immovable object (the vegan just looking for something she can actually eat) … and the rest, as they say, is history

The steakhouse is packed, the ambient light just dim enough to cast a flattering glow over everyone at the long wooden table. Glasses clink together in a chorus of celebration, laughter, and conversation filling the air as your friends lean in close to chat. The table is filled with shared appetizers — charred octopus, beef tallow truffle fries, the occasional bacon-wrapped date — but you’re preoccupied with the thick menu in your hand.

“What’s good here?” You ask, keeping your voice casual. But inside, you’re already scanning for the little green leaf symbols that typically offer you some respite. There’s not a single one. It’s all meat, meat, meat.

“Everything,” someone pipes up. “But definitely the steak.”

You give them a polite smile, already sensing the dilemma growing in your chest. You could’ve sworn someone mentioned the place had plant-based options. But this is a Michelin-starred steakhouse — it seems like steak is the only thing anyone’s interested in tonight.

“Anything catching your eye?” You friend across the table asks, eyes bright with excitement.

“Not exactly.” You chew on your lip, setting the menu down. “I’m, uh, vegan.”

A silence falls over your corner of the table, the chatter continuing elsewhere as your friends stare at you. You feel your cheeks heat up, the familiar twinge of anxiety flaring up as you mentally prepare for the usual questions.

“Vegan? Seriously?” One of them finally says, brow furrowing. “You’re in the wrong place for that.”

“Yeah, it’s just ... it’s my thing, you know?” You laugh lightly, hoping to defuse the situation. “I’m sure they can whip something up in the kitchen, right?”

“I don’t know, this place is pretty strict,” another friend comments, glancing towards the kitchen doors as if expecting a sous-chef to pop out and reprimand you. “But you could ask.”

You take a breath, nodding. “Yeah, I’ll ask.”

The waiter approaches, a polished smile on his face as he sets down more drinks and asks if you’ve made any decisions. You tilt your head, giving him a hopeful look.

“I was wondering if the kitchen could prepare something vegan?” You say, your voice steady but polite. “I didn’t see anything on the menu, and-”

“I’ll ask the chef,” he cuts in smoothly, though there’s a slight twitch in his jaw as he scribbles something in his notepad. “One moment.”

As he disappears towards the back, your friends exchange wary glances. You try to brush it off with another easy smile, though your nerves are prickling beneath the surface.

“This could be interesting,” someone says, raising their eyebrows. “Michelin-starred chefs aren’t exactly known for accommodating special requests.”

“Yeah, well, I’m hoping this one’s different,” you say, half-joking, though you can’t shake the knot in your stomach.

The seconds tick by, each one dragging out longer than the last. You sip at your water, making small talk, but your mind is already in the kitchen, imagining what kind of chef you’re dealing with. When the kitchen doors finally swing open, you feel a flutter of anxiety — and maybe a little curiosity.

He’s not what you expect.

Max Verstappen storms out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel with an intensity that makes the air crackle around him. His blue eyes are sharp, his jaw tight, and there’s a heat in his expression that has nothing to do with the stoves behind him. He’s annoyed. No, more than annoyed — he’s furious.

And when he locks eyes with you, you feel like the world narrows down to just the two of you.

“Who asked for vegan?” His voice is clipped, Dutch accent thick, and it’s obvious he’s not here to make friends. Your friends glance between the two of you, sensing the impending storm, but you lift your chin, refusing to be intimidated.

“I did,” you say, matching his intensity with your own steady gaze. “Is that a problem?”

Max narrows his eyes, like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. “This is a steakhouse,” he says slowly, as if explaining something very simple to a child. “A Michelin-starred steakhouse. I don’t make rabbit food.”

“Then maybe tonight you could make an exception,” you reply, keeping your tone even but firm. “I’m sure a chef of your caliber could whip something up.”

A scoff escapes him, and for a moment, you think he’s about to walk away. But instead, he steps closer, the heat of his presence almost tangible. “You think I’m going to ruin my kitchen with tofu or whatever it is you people eat?”

You blink at him, thrown off balance for a second by the sheer force of his disdain. But you gather yourself quickly, leaning forward slightly. “So you’re saying you can’t do it? That it’s too much for you?”

The challenge hangs in the air between you, thick with tension. Max’s jaw clenches, his eyes sparking with something dangerous. But then, to your surprise, he laughs — a short, harsh sound that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m not making you anything,” he says, finality in his voice. “You should’ve picked a different restaurant.”

“Maybe I would have, if I’d known the chef had such limited skills,” you retort, not backing down.

His eyes darken, and for a moment, you think you’ve gone too far. But then, something shifts. The anger in his expression falters, replaced by something else — something almost amused.

“You’re really pushing it,” he mutters, but there’s a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You feel a strange thrill at that, your pulse quickening. “I’m just asking you to do your job. Isn’t a good chef supposed to cater to all his customers?”

“A good chef is supposed to maintain the integrity of his menu,” he shoots back. “Not cater to every whim that walks through the door.”

“Maybe a great chef can do both,” you say quietly, watching him closely.

For a long moment, he just stares at you, his gaze intense and unreadable. You’re not sure what you expect him to do next — yell, walk away, maybe call security to kick you out — but what happens is the last thing you expect.

He leans in even closer, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur. “You think you’re clever, don’t you?”

“Not particularly,” you reply, heart pounding. “I just know what I want.”

Max holds your gaze for a moment longer, then straightens up, tossing the towel over his shoulder. “You’re not going to win this,” he says, but there’s a hint of something in his voice — a challenge, maybe.

“We’ll see about that,” you reply, giving him a small, almost defiant smile.

He doesn’t smile back, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes, something that makes your breath catch in your throat. Without another word, he turns on his heel and heads back to the kitchen, the doors swinging shut behind him with a decisive thud.

The table is silent for a moment, everyone exchanging wide-eyed looks as if they can’t believe what just happened. Your heart is still racing, your mind replaying the exchange over and over, analyzing every word, every glance.

“Did you just ...” one of your friends starts, trailing off in disbelief.

“I think I did,” you reply, a bit dazed yourself. But beneath the shock, there’s a strange sense of satisfaction. You’re not sure what it is — maybe the fact that you stood your ground, or maybe it’s something else, something about the way Max looked at you in those final moments.

Whatever it is, it leaves you feeling more alive than you have in a long time.

“Okay, that was intense,” someone else says, still staring at the kitchen doors. “Are you sure you want to keep pushing him?”

You take a breath, letting the adrenaline course through you. “Yeah. I think I do.”

“Good luck with that,” another friend mutters, though there’s a hint of admiration in their voice.

You don’t need luck, though. Not with this. There’s something about Max — something infuriating and fascinating all at once — that makes you want to see how far you can push him, how much he can take before he cracks. You’re not even sure what you’re aiming for — his respect, his irritation, or something else entirely — but you know you’re not backing down.

The minutes pass, and the chatter around the table picks up again, though you can tell everyone’s still on edge, waiting to see if Max will come back. You sip your water, trying to calm the lingering buzz of energy in your veins. Part of you wonders if you’ve made a mistake, if you’ve pushed too far, but another part — a bigger part — knows that this is exactly where you need to be.

When the kitchen doors finally swing open again, the table falls silent once more. Max strides out, his expression unreadable, and heads straight for you. He doesn’t have a plate in his hands, and for a moment, your heart sinks, thinking he’s come out just to reiterate his refusal.

But instead, he stops in front of you, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re really not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope,” you say, meeting his gaze steadily. “I’m not.”

He studies you for a long moment, his blue eyes piercing. Then, to your surprise, he sighs — a heavy, resigned sound.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” he mutters, shaking his head slightly.

“So I’ve been told,” you reply, lifting an eyebrow.

He lets out a low, frustrated growl, but you can see the ghost of a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. The tension between you is still palpable, but it’s shifted — softened in a way that neither of you acknowledges.

“All right,” he finally says, his tone somewhere between exasperation and something almost like admiration. “I’ll make you something.”

Your friends exchange surprised glances, but you keep your gaze locked on Max, not letting yourself get too excited just yet. “You don’t have to,” you say, though the look in your eyes says otherwise.

“I’m doing this once,” he warns, pointing a finger at you like it’s some kind of punishment. “And if you don’t like it, you’re not getting a refund.”

You bite back a smile. “Deal.”

He narrows his eyes at you one last time before turning on his heel and heading back to the kitchen. The doors swing shut behind him, and this time, the silence at the table is charged with something new — something like disbelief, mingled with anticipation.

“What just happened?” Someone finally asks, breaking the spell.

“I think Max Verstappen just agreed to make a vegan dish,” you say, a touch of incredulity in your own voice.

“That’s got to be a first,” another friend chimes in, shaking their head. “You’ve got some kind of magic power.”

You laugh, the sound lighter than it’s been all night. “I don’t know about that. I think he just likes a challenge.”

“Or maybe he just likes you,” one of them says, waggling their eyebrows suggestively.

You roll your eyes, though a part of you wonders. There was something in the way he looked at you — something beyond just irritation. But you push the thought aside. Whatever this is, it’s not something you can figure out in the middle of a crowded steakhouse.

The minutes tick by, and though the conversation at the table picks up again, you can feel the undercurrent of curiosity running through your friends. They’re all waiting to see what Max will come up with, and honestly, so are you. The anticipation builds, your mind racing with possibilities — what could a Michelin-starred chef possibly make that’s both vegan and up to his standards?

When Max finally reappears, he’s carrying a single plate in his hands. He walks with purpose, his expression serious, but there’s a glint in his eyes that wasn’t there before. As he approaches, the table falls silent again, everyone leaning in to see what he’s brought.

He stops in front of you, holding out the plate with a sort of grudging respect. “Here,” he says simply.

You look down at the dish and feel your breath catch. It’s stunning — an artful arrangement of roasted vegetables, grains, and a vibrant sauce that you can’t quite place. It’s clear that he didn’t just throw something together — he put thought into this. Care, even.

“This looks amazing,” you say, genuine awe in your voice.

Max shrugs, though you can see the faintest hint of pride in his expression. “I told you — just this once. Don’t get used to it.”

You give him a small smile, something warm blooming in your chest. “Thank you.”

He nods, but before he can turn away, you add, “I’m serious. It really means a lot that you did this.”

For a moment, his eyes soften, and you see a flicker of something vulnerable beneath his tough exterior. But then he smirks, the mask slipping back into place. “You’re just lucky I’m in a good mood.”

“Is that what this is?” You tease, raising an eyebrow.

He doesn’t answer, just gives you a look that says more than words ever could. Then, with a final nod, he heads back to the kitchen, leaving you with the dish in front of you and the lingering feeling that something significant just happened.

You take a bite, and it’s even better than it looks. The flavors burst on your tongue, rich and complex, and you can’t help but smile. This is more than just food — it’s a statement, a challenge met and won.

The rest of the meal passes in a blur. Your friends order their steaks, and while they rave about their meals, you’re completely absorbed in your own, savoring every bite. You can’t help but steal glances towards the kitchen every now and then, wondering if Max is watching, if he’s thinking about you as much as you’re thinking about him.

By the time dessert rolls around, you’re almost too full to eat another bite. But when the waiter places a plate in front of you, you freeze.

It’s a small, delicate dessert — something that looks like a cross between a tart and a cake, with a perfectly smooth layer of chocolate ganache on top. But that’s not what catches your attention. Written in dark chocolate sauce across the edge of the plate, in neat, precise handwriting, is a phone number.

You blink, staring at it, your heart skipping a beat. Your friends lean in, catching sight of it as well, and their reactions range from gasps to stifled laughter.

“No way,” someone whispers, eyes wide with disbelief.

You can hardly believe it yourself. But there it is — clear as day, an unmistakable invitation.

You glance towards the kitchen, and just as you do, the doors swing open again. Max steps out, catching your eye from across the room. For a moment, the world seems to narrow down to just the two of you again, the noise and bustle of the restaurant fading into the background.

He gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod — an acknowledgment, a dare. Then, without waiting for a response, he turns and disappears back into the kitchen, leaving you with your friends and the plate in front of you.

“Are you going to call him?” One of them asks, their voice tinged with excitement.

You stare at the number, feeling a rush of adrenaline. “I don’t know,” you admit, though a smile is already spreading across your face.

But deep down, you do know. Because this — this little gesture, this playful challenge — feels like the start of something. Something you’re not quite ready to let go of.

You pick up your fork, take a bite of the dessert, and let the sweetness melt on your tongue. It’s perfect — just like everything else he’s made tonight. And as you savor the taste, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this is the beginning of something far more interesting than you ever expected.

***

The kitchen is filled with the scent of something sweet and savory, a blend of spices and roasted vegetables that wafts through the house and wraps around you like a warm blanket. You’re perched on a barstool at the kitchen island, one hand absentmindedly resting on your growing belly, the other holding a glass of freshly squeezed juice that Max insisted you drink, despite your protests that you were perfectly fine with water.

“You need the vitamins,” he had said, the Dutch accent that once made you bristle now soothing in its familiarity.

“Max, it’s fine,” you replied, but he had just given you that look — the one that says he’s not backing down — and you relented with a sigh, knowing there was no point in arguing.

Now, you watch as he moves around the kitchen with a practiced ease, his hands deftly chopping, stirring, and seasoning. It’s a sight you’ve grown accustomed to over the years, but it never fails to fill you with a mix of awe and gratitude. He’s changed so much since that night at the steakhouse, when he’d been all sharp edges and stubborn pride. Now, those edges have softened, replaced by a quiet determination to make you happy in every way he can.

“How’s it coming along?” You ask, taking another sip of juice and trying to ignore the flutter of excitement in your stomach that has nothing to do with the baby.

“Almost done,” Max replies, glancing up at you with a smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “Patience, liefje.”

“You know I’m not good at that,” you tease, leaning forward to try and catch a glimpse of what he’s cooking.

He chuckles, shaking his head as he continues to stir the pot on the stove. “I know. That’s why I’m hurrying.”

You can’t help but smile at that, the warmth of his words spreading through you like a comforting embrace. It’s moments like this that make you realize just how lucky you are — how much you’ve both grown together, built a life together. It hasn’t always been easy, but it’s been worth it.

“What are you making, anyway?” You ask, your curiosity getting the better of you.

He gives you a sly look, his lips curling into a smirk. “You’ll see.”

You groan, rolling your eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he retorts, his voice full of playful confidence.

“Unfortunately, yes,” you admit with a mock sigh, though the smile on your face gives you away.

He laughs softly, the sound deep and full of affection. “Good thing, too.”

You watch him for a moment longer, your heart swelling with a mixture of love and contentment. He’s wearing an apron over his casual clothes, his hair slightly tousled from the steam rising off the stove. There’s something almost domestic about the whole scene, but it’s more than that—it’s the intimacy of knowing someone so well, of sharing your life with them in all its messy, beautiful complexity.

“Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” You ask, your voice softening.

Max glances at you, his expression tender. “Not today.”

“Well, you are,” you say, feeling a sudden rush of emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He pauses, the spoon in his hand hovering over the pot as he looks at you with an intensity that makes your breath catch. “You won’t ever have to find out,” he says quietly, his voice laced with a promise.

For a moment, you just stare at each other, the weight of his words settling over you like a warm blanket. It’s not the first time he’s said something like that, but it never fails to hit you with the same force, the same certainty that you’ve found something rare and precious in each other.

Before you can respond, he turns back to the stove, breaking the moment with a casualness that belies the depth of what was just said. “Besides,” he adds, a hint of mischief creeping into his tone, “I’m pretty sure you’d starve without me.”

You laugh, the sound a little shaky as you try to regain your composure. “You’re probably right. But I’d find a way.”

“Not as well as I do,” he counters, his voice filled with mock arrogance.

“True,” you admit, watching him with a smile. “You’ve ruined me for all other chefs.”

“Good,” he says, the pride in his voice unmistakable. “That was the plan.”

You shake your head, but you can’t help the warmth that spreads through you. He’s always been confident, sometimes to the point of being infuriating, but there’s a sincerity to it now that wasn’t there before—a genuine desire to take care of you, to be there for you in every way.

“Are you going to let me taste whatever masterpiece you’re working on, or do I have to wait until it’s perfect?” You ask, trying to peek over the counter again.

“Patience,” he repeats, though there’s a glint in his eye that tells you he’s enjoying this far too much.

“Max,” you whine, drawing out the syllable in a way that you know he can’t resist.

He sighs dramatically, as if you’ve just asked him to perform some Herculean task, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “Fine. But just a taste.”

He picks up a small spoon and dips it into the pot, then turns and walks over to you, holding it out with a flourish. “Here.”

You take the spoon from him, your curiosity piqued. The aroma is intoxicating, and when you bring the spoon to your lips, the flavors explode on your tongue — rich, savory, with a hint of sweetness that lingers just long enough to make you want more.

“Oh my god,” you say around the mouthful, your eyes widening in surprise. “This is amazing.”

“I know,” he says, clearly pleased with himself as he leans back against the counter, crossing his arms. “I had to do something special for my girls.”

You swallow, the warmth of his words spreading through you like a soft, gentle wave. “Girls, huh?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. “So you’re still convinced it’s a girl?”

He shrugs, but there’s a softness in his expression that makes your heart swell. “Just a feeling.”

You smile, resting a hand on your belly. “Well, I’m sure she’ll love whatever you cook for her.”

“She better,” he replies, though his voice is teasing. “Or I’m sending her back.”

You laugh, the sound filling the kitchen and easing the last remnants of tension in the air. “Too late for that.”

“Damn,” he mutters, but there’s a smile on his face as he turns back to the stove, stirring the pot with practiced ease. “Guess we’ll just have to keep trying.”

You watch him for a moment, your heart full to bursting with affection. He’s taken to this whole thing — pregnancy, impending fatherhood — with a kind of devotion that you never expected, but that somehow doesn’t surprise you at all. He’s always been all in, whether it’s in the kitchen or in your relationship. It’s one of the things you love most about him — that relentless drive to be the best, to give his all, no matter what.

“You’re going to be a great dad,” you say softly, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Max pauses, his hand stilling on the spoon. For a moment, he just stands there, his back to you, and you wonder if you’ve said the wrong thing, if maybe it’s too soon, too much. But then he turns, and the look on his face — full of vulnerability and determination — takes your breath away.

“I’m going to try,” he says, his voice low but steady. “I promise.”

You nod, unable to find the words to respond. Instead, you reach out, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it gently. He squeezes back, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gesture that’s so simple, so familiar, and yet it says everything you need to hear.

“Okay,” he says after a moment, clearing his throat and breaking the spell. “I’ve got something else for you.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “What is it?”

He smirks, pulling his hand away and turning back to the counter. “Just wait.”

You watch as he opens the fridge and pulls out a small tray, carefully covered with a cloth. He sets it on the counter and, with a dramatic flourish, pulls the cloth away to reveal ... a plate of beautifully arranged pastries, each one delicately shaped and glistening with a light dusting of powdered sugar.

“Vegan croissants,” he says, a note of pride in his voice. “Made from scratch.”

Your jaw drops, and you stare at the pastries in disbelief. “You made these?”

“Of course,” he replies, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I told you I’d figure it out.”

You’re speechless, the effort and care he’s put into this gesture rendering you momentarily stunned. You know how much work goes into making croissants, and the fact that he’s done it just to satisfy your cravings — it’s almost too much.

“Max,” you say, your voice thick with emotion, “you didn’t have to do this.”

He shrugs, though there’s a hint of bashfulness in his expression. “I wanted to.”

You reach out, picking up one of the croissants and holding it in your hands like it’s something precious. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“I try,” he says with a smirk, watching as you take a tentative bite of the croissant.

The layers are perfectly flaky, the pastry light and buttery despite being vegan. It melts in your mouth, and you close your eyes, savoring the taste. “This is ... incredible,” you murmur, barely able to believe how good it is.

Max’s smirk softens into a genuine smile. “I’m glad you like it.”

You take another bite, unable to stop yourself from grinning. “I don’t just like it, Max. I love it.”

He chuckles, leaning against the counter with an air of satisfaction. “Good. But don’t go telling anyone, okay? You’re still the only person I’d cook vegan for.”

You laugh, a sound full of love and warmth. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

He winks, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Better be. I’ve got a reputation to uphold, you know.”

You shake your head, your heart full as you look at the man you married — the man who, despite all his bravado, has always made you feel like the most important person in his world. “You’re impossible,” you say fondly.

“And you love it,” he replies, his voice softening as he reaches out to gently cup your cheek.

“I really do,” you whisper, leaning into his touch.

Max leans down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. When he pulls back, there’s a softness in his eyes that makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world.

“I love you,” he says, his voice steady and sure.

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice thick with emotion.

And as you sit there together, the scent of freshly baked croissants filling the air, you can’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. Life might not always be easy, but with Max by your side — cooking for you, joking with you, loving you — you know you’ll always have a reason to smile, no matter what comes your way.

[mminghaos]

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

bitter crush , choi seungcheol x f!reader

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

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

requests are open, do send some in!!

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

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

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

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

“it changed.”

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

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

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

“so, who’s this guy?”

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

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

“what, are you jealous or something?”

“no.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“need you inside me, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yeah, you like that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he really is going to be the death of you.

[sevikasbooyahh]

𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐇𝐂'𝐬

Just random random headcannons about my wife <3

She makes lots of noises; grunts, sighs, groans. It’s basically a language that only you can understand at this point.

“Hmph,” she grunted with her usual grumpy expression. “You want cuddles?” She nods her head in response.

Snores but denies it. It’s like when you’re sharing a hotel room with your family and your dad’s snoring keeps you awake; staring at the ceiling. You’ve told her multiple times but she just doesn’t believe it.

“You kept me awake all night,” you said in disbelief as your utterly exhausted eyes met hers. “Uh-huh, how? Do NOT say because I was snoring.””You were snoring.”

But in all seriousness, she started sleeping on her side—the snoring was due to her sleeping on her back.

Doesn’t care for public affection, not that she won’t slip her arm around your waist or have her hand on your thigh once in a while—but it isn’t often.

(Saw someone else say this)—absolutely loves dad jokes. She won’t laugh at anything else but dad jokes.

“Hey babe,” you slid next to her on the couch. “Hm?””What days are the strongest?“ you asked. “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Saturday and Sunday,” you started to smile. “Why?” She was slightly curious. “‘Cause the rest are weekdays,” she couldn’t even hold it before she burst out laughing.

Takes her mechanical arm off before she goes to bed because she doesn’t wanna hurt you.

Tough with everyone else but you, Jinx and Isha (they’re alive and well).

Isha made a cheerful noise as she raised her tea cup. Sevika sat across from her, hunched over the small table, teacup in hand. She pretended to drink from it, “Mm, nice.”

Perfers actions over words—for example, her version of an apology is by doing more of what she should’ve done in the past. If she wasn’t spending much time with you before, she’d immediately take it upon herself to fix her schedule.

VERY protective, especially when you’re at The Last Drop, nothing escapes her vision.

Once, this guy attempted to flirt with you but before he could get a word out, he was immediately met with a deadly glare from her. She pulled you closer towards her with a raised eyebrow, “You got something to say?” That sent him babbling in fear, “Uh-no, no, of course not!—“”Get out of my sight.”

Claims she’s not an animal person but will come home with a kitten she found on the street.

“It wouldn’t stop following me,” she said while avoiding eye contact with you. You knew she was lying.

Sometimes when she comes back from work she’ll just collapse on the couch. She’s a busy woman, alright?

Jinx cut her hair then made fun of her afterwards.

Jinx cackled after she looked at the final product, “Sweetcheeks ain’t gonna love you now, are they?” The older woman simply grumbled under breath, “You’re the one who cut it.””Yeah and I made it ugly on purpose.”

You ended up loving her hair anyway.

Secretly likes when you lay on top of her; loves seeing how comfortable you are

She’s always warm; your personal heater

Somehow gives the best hugs—bear hugs, but is so awkward with it

Takes the longest showers known to mankind; once she gets in, be prepared to wait about an hour. Meanwhile, half the time it’s just her staring at the wall.

Will let Isha climb her on rare occasions; sometimes the girl gets insanely hyper and is moving all over the place.

Says she’s “not fond of kids” but has a soft spot for them.

A little boy with blue-dyed hair walked up to her while she was outside one day. “H-hi, can you please sign this?” He asked in a soft-spoken manner, showing a drawing, offered with a crayon. She didn’t respond but took the paper and signed her name on the back. Internally, she was in disbelief that this boy looked up to her in some way. “Thank you!” He gave a big smile before running back to his group of friends, happily showing them the signature. A twitch edged at the end of her mouth.

[yukioos]

LIKE A TATTOO

SUMMARY: hwang in-ho x wife reader // you came to the island with your husband to help him out with the new games. as you took a moment for yourself, reading a book in your shared bed, a fist knocked on your door. the guard escorted you to the observation room, where in-ho was. the two of you drink bourbon and make out, not paying much attention to the games.

AUTHORS NOTE: hi! this is my first squid game oneshot, i hope u like it! i’m still working on arcane ones so dw im not abandoning the requests. i’ll most likely start taking requests for squid game characters as well. might make a part 2 if people like this. this is 1.7k words

WARNINGS: not proofread, blood, guns, murder (players sabotaging n pushing each other in red light green light), making out, drinking

the frontman sat on a plush, luxurious seat in his private, sound-proof room. a player who won the game three years ago had come back to compete, supposedly to avenge all the people he lost. outside the window, the players were engaging in their first game; red light, green light, the first game.

he hadn’t had much time for himself as he was constantly busy overlooking the games and creating new ones. it was as if his work was perpetual, as if he was meant to be the frontman for the rest of his life. he later considered settling down with you, the love of his life. but he couldn’t leave the games behind, it was part of his life, of course. he was extremely against giving the role of the frontman to anyone, as there was no one he would expect to run the games properly and orderly.

you knew about his feelings about the games, and how he wanted to quit but he was terrified of being caught. of you being caught. it wasn’t that you personally killed any of the players, no, but you knew who was running it, knew him like the back of your hand. that made you an accomplice, and he was scared for your life, he didn’t want you to become too wrapped up in his troubles.

that, of course, was quickly dismissed as soon as you became his spouse. when he told you about his job, and how he needed to leave for a business trip, you asked if you could come with him. he hesitated, and it took him days to decide if it was safe enough for you to spend around two years there, with him. he needed to create new games to entertain the VIPs, so he could use some help from his creative wife, and you had been begging to see what his job was like ever since you married.

so you assisted him in creating designs for the games and a new addition in between games, the possibility to leave the games and split the money. however, this would be the first game you would watch. you were nervous, not sure what to expect, but your husband had secretly hoped you’d be impressed by the first game, and hopefully the next ones as well.

the emptiness on the couch saddened him. he wondered why he felt so uncomfortable alone, in the room where he had idly watched the games he ran. it was too quiet. but he missed your touch, the sound of your breathing, your pulse, and your heartbeat.

he tapped his finger against the armrest before slightly grinning. he clicked and held down a button on a stand, marked with a small, white square. he commanded, “bring my wife to the observation room.” he then grinned once he gained a reply, knowing someone had gotten the message.

you, on the other hand, were reading a book in your bedroom, bored out of your mind, as you didn’t know where your husband was. suddenly, a fist knocked hard on your door, three times. must’ve been a guard, as in-ho normally just walks into the room, as you both shared it.

you tilted your head slightly to the right, staring at the door before you placed a bookmark in between two pages. you wondered what it could be about. nothing important was happening today, right?

once you placed your hand on the cold doorknob and twisted it, you saw a tall worker in a pink jumpsuit standing in front of you. the square guard stated, “the frontman asked me to escort you to the observation room.” and stood still, eerily waiting for you to respond.

you mumbled, “um, okay,” then hesitated, as you stepped into your heels, “do you know why he asked me to go there?” he began walking, and you followed after him, heels clicking with every step you took.

the guard shook his head and walked a short distance, until he arrived in front of a bland, pink door. you shook in anticipation, giddy to see your husband again. the guard knocked his fist on the door, then after a couple of seconds, opened it and held the door open for you.

you bowed your head as a thank you and shot him a gentle smile. he bowed back and closed the door, causing you to turn around. you quickly noticed the room was padded, most likely a soundproof room. two doors were lining the sides of the walls, leading to a larger space, where your husband was watching a doll place her hand on something. he sat on the left side of the double seat, next to a coffee stand. a bright chandelier hung above him, lighting up the room.

did he invite you so you could watch the first game together?

he felt your stare on him and smirked to himself. he asked, without turning around, “are you going to come up and sit down, honey? wouldn’t want your legs to hurt from standing for so long.” he smiled once he heard you shudder from feeling nervous. he always knew what you felt like, even if you didn’t know yourself.

you slowly traveled to the spot next to him, looking at him up and down, eyeing his all-black outfit. you sat next to him, thighs touching as you noticed his black mask to conceal his identity. two glasses sat next to one another on the coffee table, a subtle reminder that he was always thinking about you. a bottle of bourbon was placed on the table next to the glasses, which your husband began to pour into the small glasses. he handed you yours first and stared at you for a moment.

you crumbled under his intimidating gaze, rarely having the ability to know what he was feeling. you wiped your lip with your index, asking, “do— do i have something on my face?” your eyebrows furrowed in worry, not wanting to look bad in front of such a handsome man.

he mumbled, “no,” and continued to eye you up and down, as if he wanted to memorize every part of your body. glancing at your lips for a moment too long, he placed his hand on your thigh, caressing the skin uncovered by stockings. he couldn’t help but stare at your plump lips, wanting his on yours for eternity.

in-ho wouldn’t stop staring at your lips, but of course, you noticed. you tried to hold your grin back, heart pumping as his staring made you nervous. maybe catching him off guard would make him stop staring.

so you gently placed your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him into the kiss, eliciting a groan out of the man. even as you heard people talking from the game, he moved his hand down to your ass and placed both of his hands there, picking you up and placing you on his lap, not breaking away from the kiss.

you giggled into the kiss and cradled his face, rubbing your thumb on his cheek. the kiss was slow and passionate, as if both of you were trying to savor how the other felt in your hands, falling apart just for one another.

even as you heard an unfamiliar robot-like girl speaking, and the sounds of many footsteps running, you continued to move your lips against his. he ran his hand along your back, wishing he could feel you more through your soft fur coat. but you slowed your movements down, wanting to watch the game he had worked so hard on.

you slowly pulled away from him, causing him to needily chase your lips, wanting more. he gripped your thigh with want, you let out a small whimper, almost inaudible. as you rubbed his chest, he stared at your soft eyes, looking up at him as if he hung the stars and created the universe. he had never felt more loved than he had with you.

as soon as you sat back down on the couch, in-ho swiftly brought your legs up to his lap, gently taking your black heels off, wanting you to feel comfortable. he smiled at you after he gently placed them on the ground near the coffee table. his touch tickled your thighs, gently rubbing up and down as he watched the games from the window.

you suddenly heard a gunshot, making your eyes go wide as you tucked your knees more into yourself than him. he noticed the small movement and rubbed your calves, attempting to soothe you and your nerves. multiple guns fired, and people laid on the ground, blood pooling around their bodies, trying to run away from the doll.

in-ho clicked a remote, playing the song ‘fly me to the moon,’ which went with a model, containing toy singers that moved on beat. as the doll exclaimed, ‘green light!’ then ‘red light!’ no one dared to move a muscle. a player began to shout out commands, and the whole group quickly formed into lines at the next green light.

as the doll yelled, ‘red light!’ the leader of each line would halt first, and the last person in the line would stop last, however, the doll couldn’t detect their movements. it was a smart idea, you had to give them credit. your husband seemed displeased, however, as his hands halted, keeping his hands steady on your thighs. he sighed in frustration, but now it was time to soothe him. you grabbed his hand and held it, rubbing your thumb on the back of his hand. he glanced at you and his eyes spoke for him, he wanted to say thank you, but was too frustrated to speak.

gunshots began to fire, due to players pushing one another, sabotaging each other, as humans were greedy and always wanted more. their own life was important to them, but they didn’t seem to care about taking the life of another, as it wasn’t theirs.

but in-ho unexpectedly turned to you and stated, “i’m participating in the games this time.”

your heart dropped.

[oceantornadoo]

inspired by a dramoine fic i read! simon riley x f!reader

it’s the third time today someone has handed you simon’s paperwork and you’re starting to get confused. in fact, there’s the distinct feeling that you’ve missed a memo.

first, it was the visiting captain, so you couldn’t blame him for confusing lieutenants. but then it was johnny turning in his mission report, muttering something about “cannae be late this time if ah give it ye, lass.” which was odd, considering you weren’t his direct report (you were gaz’s). but what really sent you over the edge was getting called into price’s office and being met with a load of folders addressed to one Lt. Ghost (Confidential).

“sir, i’m a bit confused as to why you can’t just give these to him yourself.” price looked up from his desk, eyes flickering from under his boonie hat. “hav’ you seen ‘im today, lieutenant?” you nodded immediately while trying to scoop all of this paperwork (that was not yours!) into your arms. “yessir, i saw him before breakfast and then during training and then…what?” price had silently quirked an eyebrow, his beard echoing the movement. “i haven’t seen ‘im all day, so i figure it’s faster for you to deliver since you’re more well-versed in his movements than i am.” huh. “i’m sure he’s just doing his ghost thing, y’know? slipping into shadows and…”, price patiently gave you an exasperated look, “but i’ll get these to him, sir. see you later!”

the problem was, you knew exactly where simon was. in your office.

his own had an unfortunate ground level window near the track, so he was always complaining about nosy recruits until you offered to share some office space. temporarily, of course. it’s not like you were using all the empty space anyways and it made it much easier to get the opinion of your fellow lieutenant on a report by walking over to his desk, rather than going up and down stairs. that was the second point he made, and who were you to say no?

after pushing open your office door, you beelined for simon’s desk, dumping the stacks of folders on his desk. “wot’s this?” his mask was off so you could see his eyes widen at the mess of papers. “everyone now thinks i’m a drop off box for your paperwork, so i got burdened with all of this when i was doing my rounds.” he nodded thoughtfully, taking a sip of his tea. “cheers, love.”

“what do you mean, cheers? don’t you think it’s odd for them to give me your paperwork? and why do we even have so much paperwork? i swear im drowning in it this week.” he snorted at your last sentence, opening the first folder in front of him while you rounded your desk, sitting in your comfy chair with a hmpf. “yer out an’ about more than me, tha’s all.” well, that was true. the infamous ghost was not known to be a sociable person on base. “i guess…” you turned to your old radio, passed down by a retired captain, and turned on simon’s favorite classical station.

“ya want mess or the pub tonight, love?” another great thing about being on base with simon - you never had to pay for dinner. “actually, that thai place we like is doing a special tonight.” he gave you a half-smirk, one cheek ticking up. “bloody raccoon. we had thai two nights ago.” you didn’t respond, instead blinking your best impression of puppy dog eyes at him. simon sighed, then shook his head at his desk. “olrigh’. the things i do.” you smiled and winked, dipping your head back down to your desk. “thanks, si.”

-

two weeks later, you were prepping for a duo mission with simon. price had been grilling the two of you for the past three hours, making sure you had everything memorized. satisfied, he leaned back in his office chair and rubbed his temples, the feeling of a headache coming on. “one more thing.” both of you snapped your head up at price, desperate to leave and eat. you’d already missed dinner and your stomach was complaining.

“the safe house is pretty small, basically a shack. one bed, no couch. i assumed ‘s fine since y’r datin-“ “‘s fine, captain.” simon cut him off, an out of character move that had you frowning. “it’s fine, cap. not like ive never slept on a floor before.” now price was frowning at what you said. he turned to simon, who shook his head imperceptibly before becoming still again. price’s brow furrowed but he didn’t push further. he got up from his chair, eyes flitting suspiciously between you two. “i’ll see you at 0600.”

“what was that about?” you whispered to simon after as you walked down the hall. “‘s nothin’.” you were missing something but it was so unclear what. “he thinks that we’re datin-“ “said it’s nothin’, sweetheart. he’s an old man. let’s get some food in you, yeah?” you nodded, letting him guide you to the kitchen. price wasn’t that old. and you were not dating simon riley.

-

the mission was beautiful, your best one in years. it was the first duo mission between you and simon, so the nerves of pulling your own weight had settled in hard. thankfully, your skills balanced each other out and you’d gotten the target in record time. now, all you had to do was wait in the safe house for exfil.

“you were so good.” you whispered once he’d locked the door. he only hummed a response, checking exit and entry points while you set up your packs, scrounging up MREs and testing the shack for electricity. price wasn’t kidding - it was practically a studio apartment. one bed, a bathroom and a decrepit stove. the soldier part of you was fine with it, but that small soft part of you ached for the warmth of your apartment. memories of yelling at simon for using all your shampoo even though he didn’t live there, of him running you a bath after a long day of training.

“you were good too, baby.” he snuck up from behind your spot on the floor and lifted you onto the mattress that had definitely seen better days. you hadn’t even checked it for bed bugs yet. “c’mere.” he pulled you into his lap, unbuckling your tac vest as you pulled off your bandana. you tugged off his mask - the hard shell since you were on a mission - and ran your nails through his short haircut. simon started kissing your neck, wet and sloppy like he couldn’t get enough. the unrestrained want he displayed sometimes scared you. the respective pulsing in both your chest and cunt scared you more.

“so are you sleeping on the floor or am i?” he flipped you over, your back flush with the mattress as simon loomed over you. there was still eyeblack around his eyes, caught on his blonde eyelashes as well, and you couldn’t help the hand that reached up to brush some of it away. “y’r funny, sweetheart.” you grinned at that - a real toothy smile. he bent down to kiss you, scarred lips caressing your own. simon bit your lip and you moaned, sliding your legs out from under him to wrap them around his torso. when you tugged him in he went willingly, grinding into your clothed cunt. his tac vest was still on, scraping against your shirt, hardening your nipples.

“keepin’ you in this bed all night.” cold fingers dipped past the waist of your pants. you were already wet, his fingers sliding easily up and down your slit as they warmed up. that’s when you realized he still had his glove on, his movements harsher than normal. wide eyes met his own, and simon stopped so you could make a decision.

it didn’t take much as you dug your heels into his back harder, meeting him in a sloppy kiss as his gloved thumb played with your clit. “fuckin’ made for me.” he whispered, and you chalked it up to dirty talk because obviously, you weren’t together. he just knew exactly what to do, giving your clit the right amount of pressure as his other fingers teased your hole, the stretch burning more than usual. it only took a few flicks and you were off, your orgasm settling through your bones like a warm cup of tea. “jesus, si.” he grinned, his scarred lips pulling up to show a beautiful smile. “know ya like th’ back of my hand, huh?” you shook your head, capturing the idiot in another kiss.

-

after the mission, after debrief and a hot shower, you made your way back to your base office. thankfully, paperwork had only slightly piled up. one envelope stood out though - a thick card-stock with glossy, swooping letters. an invite to london’s military gala, addressed to a Lieutenant & Lieutenant. simon’s name was next to yours, connected by a singular symbol. you turned to him in disbelief. simon had been going through his own backlog, but his head snapped up under the focus of your glare.

“simon, are we…dating?”

-

this was fun!!! check out the fic i linked it was so good and i couldn’t put it down.

[mssorceressupreme]

Under Your Control

———

Pairing: In ho x reader

Summary: you wake up almost bare one night, away from the other players, tried to someone’s bed in an all too luxurious bedroom.

only to discover that the person you loved, young-il was the frontman and he would stop at nothing to gain information out of you.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, dom!inho, sub!reader, non-con touch, age gap, oral f!receiving, fingering, hickeys, use of ropes/tied up, betrayal, stripping, toxic relationship, orgasm denial

———

The first thing you noticed was the softness beneath you—luxurious sheets that felt entirely foreign after the cold, hard floor of the hall. Blinking awake, your arms tugged instinctively, only to be met with resistance. Your wrists were tied to the bedposts, the smooth silk of the restraints deceptively gentle against your skin but firm enough to hold you in place. Panic bubbled in your chest as your eyes darted around the room.

It wasn’t like anywhere else you’d seen in this nightmare of a game. The room was extravagant, draped in rich fabrics and gilded accents, a far cry from the stark, utilitarian halls where the other players remained. The flickering light from a crystal chandelier above cast shifting shadows on the walls, adding to the eerie stillness.

“Where… where am I?” you murmured, your voice trembling. The silence pressed against you, broken only by the distant hum of machinery. You tugged harder against the restraints, your breath quickening. “Let me go!” you called out to no one in particular.

A creak at the far end of the room made your head snap toward the sound. A figure stepped into view, cloaked in black, their face hidden behind the sleek, metallic mask that sent chills through you. The mask’s emotionless design contrasted cruelly with the humanity you desperately searched for.

“Who are you?” you demanded, your voice rising despite the fear knotting in your throat. “Where am I? What’s going on?” You struggled against the restraints, the silk cutting slightly into your wrists.

The figure tilted their head, the movement slow, calculated. They took a step closer, then another, the weight of their presence suffocating. Finally, their gloved hand reached up, gripping the edge of the mask.

Time seemed to slow as they pulled it off, revealing a face you knew all too well.

“Young-il?” you breathed, disbelief flooding every syllable. Your heart twisted painfully, as though the air had been stolen from your lungs.

He smirked, the expression sharp, almost cruel, and yet it sent an unwelcome flutter through your chest. “Surprised, angel?” he said, his voice low and smooth, like honey laced with poison.

The nickname, one he’d used during the games, felt like a blade twisting in your heart. It was a cruel reminder of who you thought he was—the ally who had stood by your side, shared quiet moments of understanding, and made you feel safe.

And yet here he was, towering over you, not as a fellow player but as something far more sinister.

“You…” Your voice cracked as you stared at him, your emotions tangling into a knot of betrayal and heartbreak. “You lied to us. To me. You’re one of them.”

He chuckled softly, a sound that felt like a mockery of all the warmth you once thought he possessed. “Don’t be so dramatic,” he said, his tone playful but undercut with a dangerous edge. “I was doing what I had to. We all are.”

Your lip trembled, but you set your jaw, glaring at him even as your chest ached. “I trusted you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “...I loved you.”

His smirk faltered for a split second, a flicker of something softer passing through his eyes. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by that same icy exterior. He moved closer after taking off his coat to reveal a black tight fitted shirt underneath.

The mattress dipped under his weight as he hovered over your tied-up vulnerable body, both his legs on either side of your hips.

“I’m not here to talk about feelings, Y/N,” he said, leaning in just enough that his breath brushed against your cheek. “I need information.”

You turned your head away, refusing to meet his gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His hand cupped your jaw, gently but firmly turning your face back to him. The touch sent a jolt through you, confusing and unwelcome. “Don’t lie to me,” he said, his voice a quiet warning. “I know you’re close to Gi-hun. He trusts you. Now, tell me about that plan he told you.”

“No,” you said, the word shaking but resolute. “I won’t betray him. I won’t betray them.”

His lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. “Oh, angel,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.”

Before you could protest, his lips captured yours in a kiss that stole your breath. It was unexpected, overwhelming, and despite everything, it ignited something in you that you couldn’t suppress. Your resolve wavered as his hand moved to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss.

When he pulled away, you were left reeling, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. “Now,” he said, his voice softer but no less commanding, “tell me.”

You shook your head, biting your lip to keep from speaking. He tilted his head, his eyes scanning your body up and down, beneath him. He then caressed the side of your upper body, his hand making his way to your jacket zipper.

Shit, you weren't wearing a bra underneath today, nor a shirt, because it was supposedly bedtime. Slowly, he undid your zipper, exposing your cloth-less skin. "No bra?"

You laid beneath him shaking your head slightly, now bare, even more vulnerable.

"Look at you, so fucking pretty..." He then leaned in, "I might have to be rough if you don't tell me what I want..." He cooed, almost mockingly. His lips ghosting over yours, teasing, before pressing another kiss to them, sucking lightly. This time, your body betrayed you entirely, melting into him despite the storm of emotions crashing within you. Straightening himself up, he pulled your pants down while still hovering over you, leaving you in your undies. He pressed his thumb to your throbbing clit, with pressure before slowly stroking your folds over the fabric of your undies.

“Stop,” you whispered, though the word lacked conviction. “Please...” Yet, he continued, slipping two fingers inside your undies before stroking your folds again. You tried to resist his touch, you hated this, you hated him for betraying you guys. But your body felt differently. Trying to resist the pleasure, you forced yourself to not react, however, your body kept twitching under his touch and from all the pleasure building up.

“Then talk,” he murmured against your lips, his voice a velvet threat.

The push and pull was too much. Your heart warred with your mind, your love for him tangling with the sharp sting of his betrayal. "I won't." You spat, and he responded by inserting two fingers harshly inside you. You moaned, tilting your head back, panting heavily as he began pumping in and out of you. "Stop..." You pleaded, whimpering as he picked up his pace. Your breathing was heavy, gosh, he managed to make you feel so good, you were like putty under his control. "You tell me to stop, yet your body tells me otherwise...." His voice was low, sensual, "...so fucking wet for me..."

You felt your climax near approaching, your heartbeat quickening, you were close. "Young-il..." You plead, once more. "I'm gonna....I'm getting close..." Barely a whisper came out, your eyes shut tightly, body melting under his touch. "I'm gonna cum..."

He continued, pumping deeper and faster, and your climax was getting close and closer until...

He pulled his fingers out.

"Don't stop please..." You begged, "please Young-il I need you..." You mentally slapped yourself for sounding so needy, begging for more. No matter how mad you were, a part of you still wanted him. He smirked, seeing how needy you were for him which also fuelled his own desire. His bulge was evident, pressing against your thigh.

Young-il stroked your cheeks softly, "Oh Y/N, you'll get what you want...once you tell me his plan."

"I already told you I won't." You retort. "Such a stubborn, pretty mouth, hm?" He gazed into your eyes, filled with lust. He wanted you so bad, he'd do anything to make his name fall from your pretty mouth again.

He bent down, planting sloppy kisses on your collarbone down to your stomach. Sucking harshly till he left a bruise, "You'll look even more gorgeous with my marks all over you." Shifting down, Young-il moved closer to your cunt, making eye contact while he licked your folds.

"Young-il..." You moaned, body involuntarily arching, bucking your hips up into his face. Placing his hands on the velvety part of your inner thighs, he parted your legs wider before leaning in again to place kitten licks on your cunt.

"You taste so good angel..." He murmured into you.

He made sure to suck on your clit, with extra pressure, licking between the folds, slowly but sensually. "Young-il please..." You whimpered.

He pulled away slightly, "You want me to let you cum?"

"Please..." You begged, breathing heavily.

"Please what?" He retorted, "Use your words beautiful."

"Please make me cum..." You whined, before he continued, licking your whole slit, your became wetter by the second, body begging for more.

"The plan." He demanded you to tell him, "Now." Before pulling away again.

You groaned, wanting more, needing more. Your body so close filled with arousal, yet so far from a climax.

He leaned down once more, sucking on your clit again.

"The guards!-" You cried aloud, overwhelmed with pleasure. "An attack at midnight..." You moaned softly.

"Anything else?" Young-il smirked, knowing the control he had over you. "That's Gi-hun's plan...attack management at midnight when they've assumed we're asleep." You blurt out, which you immediately regretted. You told him what he wanted to know—about Gi-hun’s plan, the uprising, the desperate hope for freedom. Satisfied, Young-il sucked harder, licking every inch of your cunt with fervour. You moaned loudly, panting heavily as you came closer to a climax.

"I'm so close...gonna cum..." You arched your back further, "I'm gonna..." Then it washed over you, your body jerking harshly as it filled with pleasure. Your walls throbbed, and you felt a rush to your core; you let out a moan, hands tangling in Young-il's hair as you came.

When you finished, he pulled back, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. He reached out, brushing a hair from your face with a gentleness that felt like a cruel mockery. “Good girl,” he said softly.

You turned your face away, tears slipping silently down your cheeks as guilt and shame consumed you. He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, "See that wasn't so hard was it." Young-il zipped up your jacket and helped you put on your track pants but still leaving you tied up.

He stood up, getting off the bed, “Not a word of this to anyone,” he said, his voice cold and unfeeling once more. “If you do, they’ll die. Every last one of them.”

You nodded, unable to speak. "Sleep here for tonight, the bed is more comfortable." He spoke while putting on his jacket, "When you wake up tomorrow, you'll be back in the hall with the others. I'll see you there angel." He winked, placing the mask back over his face before walking away.

Your body tremlbed as the door closed behind him.

Despite everything, your heart still ached for him. And that, more than anything, was the cruelest twist of all.

[boopshoops]

What your favorite TWST character says about you :)

As a note before I begin: I saw one of these that shamed malleus and randomly even chenya enjoyers- (claimed that they were pick mes or something? 😭) so i wanted to make one that was more positive out of spite <3 make it more about the writing and why people appreciate the characters. Take each of these with a grain of salt i spose- also a lot of them share similar themes <3

(Aka fans who have different views or even blatantly incorrect views of characters will always exist everywhere, but insulting the entirety of a group solely for enjoying a character, many for different reasons, is probably not a great idea!

I get that sometimes people suck and thats understandable, but quit generalizing ok? Ok.

From a malleus enjoyer who just thinks hes a silly little guy and im tired of feeling like i have to defend myself bc he's my blorbo 😵‍💫)

Final note: i love unapologetically taking frustration and turning it into something that can make people smile 💕 also i blindly wrote this from 11pm-midnight :))) dividers by @/cafekitsune!

Heartslabyul:

Riddle: you enjoy and/or relate to the idea of healing from the past. Working hard to improve oneself for the ones around you and yourself: creating a healthier environment where you can be happy

Trey: there is immense complexity in things that are seemingly mundane. Digging deeper and deeper to find something truly sweet and heart warming is your joy.

Cater: maybe you relate, or maybe you used to, or maybe parts of the connections made in the past/presence/future dont feel as deep as you truly want them to be. There is something beautiful about a desire for genuine human connection, but also peace in being alone. There is a safe space for you yet, just be patient. 💕

Deuce: you love drive and determination. An endless stubbornness that keeps one going against all odds. Against every person who tells someone they cant. You watch them get proven wrong, and its pure bliss.

Ace: you find the connection between people beyond words heartwarming: even the seemingly simple ones. The ability to have a connection with someone who can get up to some mischief, tease back and forth, yet be there when you need them to be one of the most valuable things.

Savanaclaw:

Leona: Adversity over a lack of belief in oneself is a very difficult thing to overcome- yet it is very possible with the right crowd, the right amount of time, healing, and effort. You think someone's worth lies more than just within their title/job/appearance, but within the fact that they are able to stand back up and keep moving onward despite the odds. The hope for that change, and the ability to get out of bed in the morning on its own is strength.

Ruggie: Despite being through so much trauma at such a young age, recovery happens anyway. Its not perfect, at times the lessons learned are even rough. The survival tactics that once helped are now hard to ditch when theyre not needed anymore, but the ability to smile and joke and keep pushing onwards is something you value in life.

Jack: Self discipline can be both extremely useful as well as harmful in different ways. You find the way people can constantly strive to better themselves at what they love and/or morally to be highly admirable.

Octavinelle:

Azul: People can be cruel. And sometimes that cruelty inspires cruelty. Sometimes its simply used as a way to move on and survive insecurities created from it. Its hard, its a fight, but those insecurities are part of what make people beautiful. They are nothing to be ashamed of, and even the many tactics and smart ways of learning to overcome cruelness can be beautiful too.

Jade: The mind is extremely powerful. Intelligence and knowledge are not the only important things, no. Using that intel to find entertainment in the surrounding world can be exhilarating. Finding and discovering new unknowns: learning their ins and outs until they're a part of you is something you can relate to.

Floyd: speaking of fun- you love what is essentially the written version of a roller coaster. Ups and downs, ins and outs. Every single twist and turn is exhilarating and new. Every different perspective provides new insight into a multitude of different things. You are along for the ride, and you are having a lovely time.

Scarabia:

Jamil: self discovery can be very difficult after purposefully suppressing parts of one's self for a long time. Yet, the healing happens anyway (once again aha <3). People discover new parts of themselves, slowly becoming more comfortable not only with their environment, but how they react to it. The discovery is freedom, and freedom is bliss to you. New traits about oneself bloom like a flower: if not in the soil, then stubbornly in the cracks of cement. You gently take that bloom from the concrete and pot it, placing it gingerly in a beam of sunlight.

Kalim: Happiness isnt only sunshine to the one smiling, but to everyone else around them. It is delightfully infectious. However, happiness isnt a constant. You think emotions all emotions should be experienced rather than suppressed, because holding back sadness for the sake of others is a disservice to one's self. Discovering your own emotions, any range of them, is what makes people uniquely human. If anyone is holding those emotions back- hell, any part of them back, they need to be let out of the cage.

Pomefiore:

Vil: "Beauty is on the inside" is a saying thats been around for a long time, but beauty comes in so many forms. It can come from the stubborn desire to improve one's self: to be kinder, to help those around you, to be good. However it is impossible to be perfect. At times, for some, this can be crushing. People are hurt unintentionally, natural frustration can brew, the wrong actions can be taken: and thats okay. You believe whats important is to pick yourself up and keep going. To err is to be human, and that is beautiful too.

Rook: Error is beautiful. Symmetry is beautiful. Asymmetry is beautiful. A crack in the side walk is beautiful. Small things are beautiful, big things are beautiful. The nurturing of something through endless care is beautiful. The undeniable traits and hobbies of every individual that make them unique are beautiful. You find the endless optimism in finding beauty to be, in itself, beautiful.

Epel: Sometimes people will view others in ways that they wish not to be perceived as. This isnt in our control, as much as we sometimes want it to be. All you can do i be unapologetically yourself. To be you to the utmost degree. To prove those who thought otherwise to be foolish. You find this strength to find value in yourself despite others opinions admirable.

Ignihyde:

Idia: you have depression /j

Ok for real-

Life can be such a cunt. It can beat a person down, down, down and leave them vulnerable enough to fear it. To fear that beating, whenever it may next come. The anxiety of never knowing what or who will come next, or what one could lose. At times it feels more comforting to find a routine in solitude. But you know that the small things that give joy will wiggle their way in with time. The broken will meet people who love and care and find comfort in the companionship of healing, even from the little things: like a new story to read or game to play.

Ortho: You value unconditional support. Support through everything: the good, the bad, the just kind of okay. Knowing that someone can have ones back for every little thing- to be there solely because they care and wish the best for others- is something you look up to and maybe even wish to be for another.

Diasomnia:

Malleus: god damn people can be so hard to read and understand. They are so complicated: they are books you have to pay attention to from start to finish. But once you reach the end, you have a deep seated appreciation for them, and for the ones who stuck around to read your book too. Even if it was just for a fleeting moment: it is a happy moment. As painful as temporary things can be, it is also what you think can make the relationships we love and have loved so valuable.

Lilia: there can be suffering everywhere. There is war. There is famine. But there are also endless new sights to see. New discoveries to be made to help those still going through famine and war. New ways to love and understand people you never thought you'd understand. The development and positive parts of humanity, even though at times it can look bleak, are ever present to you. You love the discovery: of places and of people.

Silver: you believe that there is solace in being your own individual, regardless of who you are bound by blood to. Being shaped my experiences, friends, hardships, and new places are what make a person who they are. You value finding roots in and making your own home.

Sebek: Dedication can be a hard thing to come by, but when it does it can grab someone by the reigns. Using every waking moment to cherish that thing, learn more about it, become better at something, and strive to better ones self can be very admirable to you. But, on the other hand, it also calls for the occasional rest.

OTHER (just for ones I know well enough, sorry!)

Neige: You love kindness despite hardship. One can go through horrible things and still choose to be kind. The world could begin to end, and one could still choose to be kind, because it means everything.

Chenya: Curiosity fuels exploration. It fuels art. It fuels everything. It fuels excitement. It fuels friendships. It fuels medicine. It fuels life. Curiosity is endlessly fun, and you think that is very whimsical

Meleanor: Sacrifice for others can be tragic. Knowing what another person has given up for someone else, maybe even everything, is gut wrenching but undeniably a selfless love to you.

Crewel: There can be kindness in strictness. In teachings, there can be a parental guide. There can be someone who cares for you and undeniably wants you to succeed. They know that you can, so they push you towards it. You want this support.

Trein: Love surpasses time. When the ones we love are gone, the memories of them are still held close, with the love once given to them, we can show to others through advice and guidance that comes with time. You find comfort in that.

Crowley: People are flawed. We all know this, yet despite a persons flaws... however many there may be, there is still something hopeful and human about it. About having those flaws and persisting regardless. You may even like those flaws, and the unashamed desire to press on even with them on display.

Fellow/Ernesto: Live for yourself. This is what you desire. People are often caught up in material or monetary things. After all, we live in a world that required it to survive and even be respected. To throw away those views and simply live as you see fit: regardless as to whether you earn those things or not, is something you admire.

Rollo: Sometimes the attachment we have to those we lost can be painful. Regardless, that pain is proof that there was care and love. The things done for others, whether alive or dead, are done selflessly. Grief can fuel hatred, but it can also be caused by love. To unlearn hatred and learn to love again after the fear of loss is a natural human experience. It is a process you understand and admire those who take the time and strength needed to properly love again.

Thank you for reading <3

Tags <3

@lowcallyfruity @skriblee-ksk @justm3di0cr3 @cecilebutcher @kitwasnothere

@techno-danger @thehollowwriter @distant-velleity @the-trinket-witch @scint1llat3

@beneathsakurashade @qsoap @twsted-canvas @prince-kallisto @kathxrat-01

@sillyslipperybananapeel @jadelover69 @tixdixl @twstinginthewind

[greengoblinswifey]

Game of Deception—Lee Myung-Gi/Player 333 x Fem!Reader

summary— You and Myung-gi, share a growing attraction despite the chaos around you. But when his past surfaces, including a pregnant ex-girlfriend, your trust in him is shattered.

warnings—angst, manipulation, face fucking, choking, unprotected sex, creampie, praise kink, slight degradation, betrayal.

Most of the players were asleep, but Lee Myung-gi wasn’t. You noticed him sitting up, his shoulders tense, staring off into the distance.

“Can’t sleep?” you asked softly, pulling the thin blanket around your shoulders as you sat up.

He turned to you, startled for a moment before his expression softened. “No, too much on my mind.”

“Do you want to lie down with me? It might help.” You hesitated before patting the small space beside you.

He gave you a small, shy smile and nodded. “Sure.”

As he lay beside you, the warmth of his body was comforting despite the cold reality of where you were. You felt his arm hesitantly drape over your waist, and you didn’t stop him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured after a moment, his voice barely audible over the soft snores of other players in the room.

You smiled, your heart fluttering at his words. “You think so?”

“I know so,” he replied, as his eyes roamed your face.

This wasn’t the first time Myung-gi had looked at you like that. From the moment the games began, you noticed his quiet, reserved nature, how he tried to stay out of trouble but always had a sharp eye for the dangers lurking around. It had been during one of those dangerous moments that you first stepped in for him.

Thanos and his bird brained friend had cornered him during the chaos of the first night. “What’s the matter, pretty boy? Too scared to fight back?” Thanos taunted, shoving him roughly.

Before Myung-gi could respond, you stepped forward. “Why don’t you pick on someone else asshole?” you snapped.

Thanos turned to you, laughing until he realized you weren’t backing down. “What’s it to you baby?”

“It’s that I don’t like bullies,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “You think intimidating him makes you tough? All I see is a desperate for attention piece of shit.”

For a moment, it seemed like Thanos would retaliate, but your unwavering glare and the growing attention of other players made him back off. “Whatever,” he muttered, walking away with his friend.

Myung-gi had looked at you with something akin to awe. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said quietly.

You shrugged. “I wasn’t about to let them mess with you.”

From that moment, the two of you stuck together. You shared meals, sitting side by side as the reality of the games sunk in. He always made sure you had enough to eat, even offering you a portion of his food at times.

“You don’t have to do that,” you said one night as he pushed his bowl toward you.

“It’s fine,” he replied, a small smile on his lips. “You need your strength.”

His quiet protectiveness was something you weren’t used to, but you found yourself growing more attached to him with each passing day.

A few minutes after his whispered compliment about your beauty, you leaned closer, your voice low. “Come with me to the bathroom.”

He blinked in surprise but nodded, curiosity evident in how he stared at you. The two of you slipped past the sleeping players and surprisingly indifferent guards. Once inside the bathroom, you led him into a stall and locked the door behind you.

“Myung-gi,” you breathed, leaning back against the wall, your eyes locking with his. His dark gaze flickered between your lips and your eyes, and before you could say another word, he closed the space between you, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was both soft and urgent.

His hands rested on your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened. The cold stall melted away, replaced by the heat radiating between you.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he murmured against your lips, his forehead pressing to yours.

“You think I’m not just as crazy about you?” you whispered back.

His lips curved into a small smile before he kissed you again, slower this time, as if savoring every second.

The attraction between you was impeccable, impossible to ignore despite the circumstances. His hands traced your sides, then down to your ass, and his lips pressed kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered.

As the moment intensified, you pulled back slightly, catching your breath. His hands remained gentle on your waist, his gaze searching your face for any hesitation.

“You’re incredible, Myung-gi,” you said softly.

He smiled, leaning his forehead against yours. “And you’re all I think about, even in this hell hole.”

You were deeply attracted to him. You weren’t sure if you were just being codependent due to the harsh reality of the games and you needed something—someone to take your mind off it, or you just really liked him. Whatever it was, you didn’t care. All you cared about was him and possibly making it out alive. All you cared about was pleasing him, having him see you the way you saw him. So, you fell to your knees.

“Fuck, you’re so dirty,” he moaned as you pulled down his pants and boxers in one swift motion.

As you freed him, your lip caught in between your teeth. He was hard and thick, already leaking pre cum from his pink tip. With your gaze locked on his, you slowly took him into your mouth, lips and tongue gliding across the shaft. Myung-gi hissed as you took him further, your hands stroking what you couldn’t take down your throat.

“Fuck baby, just like that,” he rasped, his hand tangling in your curls.

His praises willed you on and you began bobbing your head steadily, saliva beginning to drip down your chin.

“You look so fucking good like this, on your knees for me,” he praised.

His grip tightened in your hair and you dug your nails into his thigh as he began to thrust into your mouth. Each time he did, the bulbous head would hit the back of your throat making you gag.

“I love hearing you gag on my dick,” he breathed, looking down at you, jaw agape.

Your tongue glided across the shaft as his thrusts grew more frantic and without warning, you felt something warm and salty shoot down your throat. He held your head down on his cock, your nose buried in his neatly trimmed pubic hair as you felt his cock twitch in your mouth. When he finally let go you swallowed and gasped for breath.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he said, pulling you up to your feet and placing a kiss on your lips.

While you were happy he felt that way and you were able to please him, something felt—off. But you couldn’t place your finger on it.

You felt Myung-gi’s warm breath on the nape of your neck as he whispered, “Turn around.” His voice was soft but carried a weight of authority that made your heart race but you turned to face the wall of the stall.

There was a sense of urgency in his touch as he rested his hands on your hips, pulling down your pants and your underwear, steadying you. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmured, “Trust me.” The closeness sent a shiver through you, and you let out a shaky breath, nodding.

You gasped loudly as you felt his hard cock tease your entrance, slowly slipping inside you, the stretch burning. He stared down at his cock that was covered in your cream as he pulled out of you, leaving only the tip inside. He slammed back in, your ass recoiling against him as you cried out.

“Quiet,” he whispered, his tone gentle but commanding. “You’re doing so well.” The words sent warmth rushing through you, and you felt his hand snake around to rest lightly at your throat. His other hand reached down, thumb stroking your clit in rough circles, and his lips pressed soft kisses to your shoulder.

His thrusts sped up, growing sloppier by the minute. Each time his cock disappeared inside you, it would hit your g spot making you shudder and bite back a moan. You pushed your ass back against him but it made him tighten his grip around your throat. He called the shots and you absolutely loved it.

“Cum with me,” he murmured against your skin, “squeezing my dick so fucking tight.”

He rolled his hips to meet yours and as you felt his cum spurt inside you, your own climax took ahold of you. You moaned his name like it was the only word you knew, the orgasm the best thing you had ever felt these past few days.

When the moment passed, Myung-gi’s forehead rested against your shoulder, his breathing uneven as he muttered a quiet, “Sorry, I, uh, didn’t mean to cum inside you.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head to ease the awkwardness. “It’s fine,” you said with a smile. “Not like we need more problems right now.” He let out a quiet laugh, his hand brushing through his hair as he looked at you with an apologetic smile.

With care, he helped you straighten up and quietly cleaned you off. You both slipped out of the bathroom and returned to the dormitory in silence, careful not to draw attention.

Back in your corner of the room, you lay down on the small bed, noticing how Myung-gi didn’t pull you into his arms as he had the nights before. He stayed near, but the space between you felt heavier than it should. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, his expression unreadable as he stared at the ceiling.

“Goodnight,” you whispered softly, hoping to ease the tension.

He nodded, but his response was delayed. “Goodnight,” he finally replied, his tone distant.

You turned over, staring at the other players and willing sleep to come. You didn’t want to overthink it—there was too much at stake in the morning—but a small part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. Still, you pushed the thoughts aside. You needed to rest. The next game wouldn’t wait for anyone.

The nerves in the dormitory felt heavier the next morning, though you couldn’t tell if it was because of the lingering tension from the previous night or the looming threat of the next game. Myung-gi sat across the room, his head bent slightly as he talked quietly with another player, a woman you hadn’t really noticed before. She clutched her stomach occasionally, her face pale and tired.

You tried to ignore it, focusing on your own nerves, but the way they spoke, close and hushed, stirred something bitter in your chest. When their conversation ended, you approached him, your tone light but curious.

“Who was that?” you asked, nodding in the woman’s direction.

He glanced at you briefly and shrugged. “Nobody.”

Nobody. The word lingered in your mind, sour and unconvincing, but you didn’t have time to push the matter.

The game that day was brutal, each second teetering on the edge of survival. You nearly lost your life more than once, the screams of other players ringing in your ears as you clawed your way through. Myung-gi, however, didn’t stay near you like he usually did. He stuck close to the woman—Player 222 and it wasn’t subtle. Every glance he threw her way, every time he stepped in to help her, made your blood boil.

By the time you both staggered back into the dormitory alive, you were too drained to confront him. But you couldn’t let it go. After seeing him ignore you all day, you decided to approach the woman instead.

She sat quietly in a corner, her hands protectively over her stomach. Forcing a small smile, you made your way over, trying to keep your tone friendly.

“Hey,” you began softly. “You did well out there. I know it wasn’t easy.”

She glanced up, offering a weak smile. “Thanks, you too.”

You hesitated, unsure how to broach the topic. “I, uh, noticed you and Myung-gi talking earlier. Do you know him well?”

Her expression faltered. She let out a heavy sigh, her hand instinctively going to her stomach again. “We used to,” she admitted. “A long time ago.”

You frowned, a pit forming in your stomach. “Used to?”

She nodded, her eyes dropping to the floor. “We were together. I got pregnant, and he, well, he wanted me to get rid of it.” She paused. “When I didn’t, he walked away. Scammed me too. I shouldn’t even be here,” she said, shaking her head.

You stared at her, stunned into silence as her words settled over you like a heavy weight. She noticed your expression and sighed again.

“Look,” she said, “I’m not telling you what to do. Make your own decisions. But don’t trust him. He told me he wanted to get out of this together.”

Your chest tightened, your thoughts racing. You swallowed hard, offering her a weak smile. “Thank you for telling me,” you said quietly. “Take care of yourself. And your baby.”

She nodded, giving you a small, grateful smile.

You found Myung-gi sitting alone, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. You marched over, your heart pounding in anger and disbelief.

“When were you going to tell me?” you demanded.

His eyes opened slowly, confusion flashing across his face. “Tell you what?”

“That your pregnant ex-girlfriend is here,” you snapped.

He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “You talked to Jun-hee, didn’t you?”

“She told me everything,” you hissed. “How you wanted her to get rid of her baby, how you took her money. And now, what? You’re telling her you want to get out of this together? The same thing you told me?”

“Hey, calm down,” he said, his tone defensive. “It’s not like that.”

“Don’t,” you said sharply, your voice trembling. “Don’t act like I’m overreacting. You’ve been ignoring me all day, sticking by her side, and now I find out you’ve been lying to me this whole time?”

“I didn’t lie to you,” he snapped back. “And don’t fucking say I used you.”

“Didn’t you?” you shot back, your voice rising. “You knew exactly what you were doing. And now you’re trying to downplay it like it’s nothing.”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, okay? Things are complicated.”

“Complicated?” You let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t even care, do you? About me, about her. You’re just looking out for yourself.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. That silence was all the confirmation you needed.

“I’m done,” you said firmly, stepping back. “Don’t talk to me again.”

You turned and walked away, your chest aching as his voice called out faintly behind you. You didn’t stop. There wasn’t time for this, not here, not now. You had to focus on surviving, even if that meant doing it alone.

[ciel-of-vault-111]

Alr I’m gonna vent abt this now and it’s gonna get pretty dark so anyone who doesn’t wanna see me get super depressing abt my time in grippy sock jail. TW for abuse and SA. you have been warned

I was there for less then a fucking week in 7th grade and the shit that they did to me in there has followed me to this fucking day. First day, they woke me up at 4am to shove new meds down my throat. The dosage was too high, and the meds made me feel numb to everything, and also made me violently ill. The staff didn’t care. They sent me back to bed (which was a gym mat screwed into the floor. No mattress, no bed frame, just a gym mat). First day, they gave me my patient bracelet. They asked for my preferred name/pronouns to put on it. I told them. They used my legal name and pronouns. The bracelet was too tight on my wrist. Second day, everyone got to go outside (people got to go outside once a week there). I didn’t. They didn’t allow people who’ve been there for less than a week to go out. I got “quiet time” in my room. They locked me in a featureless room with a window looking out to where everyone else was. 3rd day, I got a roommate. He was in there for beating someone half to death. That night was the first time someone there SA’d me. It was my roommate. I can’t remember his name or his face or what he said to me. The meds made me numb. Day 4, shower day. They only let us shower once a week. The shower was filled with mold. We had to share soap. Once I was done with my shower, I bumped into one of the nurses there. She used this to say I attacked her. She then took me to the “quiet room”. Soundproof, no windows. She kept me there for hours. She SA’d me repeatedly in there. I don’t remember her face or her name. The meds made me numb. Day 5, I was only in there for half the day. I didn’t remember anything that happened to me over the last 4 days. By noon, my parents picked me up and we went home. Apparently my mom screamed at everyone she could to let me out over the entire time i was there until someone finally did. It’s taken me years to piece together what they did to me there. Me and my parents don’t remember the name of the psych ward I was sent to. I don’t want to do anything about what happened. I don’t wanna drag it back up.

Anyway this has been Ciel venting about some fucked up shit that happened to her :p

The worst thing is that there is so much potential for exploring the horror of psych wards from the angle of medical abuse, ableism, forced treatment/drugging, loss of autonomy, power imbalance, demonization, dehumanization, etc, and YET the horror genre keeps defaulting to "insane asylums and psych wards are scary because there are mentally ill people in there"

[cybrasigilism]

how dae-ho would act like if he had a crush on reader and how he’d ask them out

this is too cute! i desperately need to write for dae-ho more, he’s just such a sweetheart i fear :>

Crush Headcanons! (Player 388/Kang Dae-ho Headcanons)

warning: no smut! | lowercase intended | not proofread! | these are my headcanons for this character, please be respectful even if my opinions on the character differ from your own :)

character: kang dae-ho (player 388)

A/N: this is a mix of headcanons + drabble but i hope thats alright it’s nice to take a break from smut every now and again :) i’ve got lots of dae-ho in my requests so i’ll try my best to feed you all .3. of course, i hope you enjoy!

   ────  ☽⃝ ────

⟢ the moment he first took notice of you as everyone was getting their photos taken for the games, he was completely starstruck. from that point forward, dae-ho found his eyes being drawn to you wherever you guys were

⟢ he felt a new sense of urgency to make sure you lived throughout these games, after red light green light he made a vow with himself to ensure you were protected at all costs. he was quick to introduce himself post the first game, and you guys were fast friends.

⟢ he’s not the type to be insecure or jealous when he sees you interacting with the other men inbetween games. there was few men you did talk to anyways, seeing as most of them either got on your nerves or intimidated you way too much. however, he did find himself a tiny bit jealous when he saw how easily you got along with the other guys in his group

⟢ you didn’t end up making it on dae-ho’s team for the six legged pentathlon, but he did his best to calm your nerves before the game started up. he promised he would cheer you on and that he definitely did. he definitely lit up when you ran up to him afterwards, going on about how worried you were about him after you left

⟢ he 100% would share his food with you, especially if he noticed you were particularly shaken up after a game

⟢ adding onto the last piece, dae-ho will also definitely try to cheer you up after the games

⟢ i think he would definitely hold off on asking you out, especially during such a high stakes situation as the squid games. at some point later on, when you guys are closer, you two will promise to see more of each other once the games are finished.

⟢ although dae-ho certainly isn’t one to start a fight, he will put himself between you and any unruly players who try to start something with you. he doesn’t have any trouble putting someone in their place if he feels you would be in any sort of danger

⟢ insisted that you slept with his group during lights out, so he could watch over you and be certain on your safety when you were sleeping

⟢ 100% hugs you tightly after the mingle game, especially if you two got separated. you could tell he didn’t want to let you go at this point, as he was definitely worried that you didn’t make it into a group before the time ran out

⟢ will for sure ask you all about your life before the games, and even about what you’ll do with the prize money when you guys get out

────  ☽⃝ ────

apologies for the less headcanons this time around! i saw more opportunities for small drabbles between the headcanons and i had to seize it! i had a lot of fun writing this out, and i hope you guys all had just as much fun reading it! as always any advice/constructive criticism on how i can improve my writing is appreciated and requested

have a splendid day lovelies 💋

tags: @gongyoosgf @agorsnotsworld @kvstjwonnie @marymustdie @pink-apples001 @wonestro @luvlyfandoms @putrescentpoet

[f1cflcfic]

The Prophecy (SMAU ft. Lando Norris) Part II

pairing: lando norris x singer!reader (y/n)

summary: what happens after the break-up that noone saw coming? as Y/N L/N gears up to release her next album, each song reveals a little bit of the past, present and future of her relationship with Lando Norris. Inspired by a curated playlist built around "The Prophecy".

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons.

genre: social media au, angst, exes to lovers, happy ending

part i

♥･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♡･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♥

September, 2026

[Excerpt from Kelly Clarkson interview with Y/N]

“We’re so excited to have y/n l/n with us today, I can’t get your latest song out of my head. It’s really such a great revival of the sultry pop ballads,” Kelly says joyously, and y/n can’t help but smile.

“Thank you! That means a lot coming from you – I grew up watching you on American Idol, I can’t believe I’m even sitting across from you now.”

“Oh my god, stop! You’re gonna make me feel real old. Congratulations again on your Grammy for your sophomore album, All I Ever Needed. How did it feel going into your new project with that in the back of your mind?”

Y/N shuffles uncomfortably on the couch. “Hmm thank you. I – well, it was really different. The songs I wrote on there were coming from this feeling of bliss which was fading fast by the time the Grammy’s rolled around. I had to figure out what kind of artist I am if I’m not in love, or writing about happiness. It felt embarrassing. I don’t like being vulnerable, but I love sharing love. So it was hard for me, not gonna lie. But I’m happy that we got there in the end.”

“Wow, well I was able to listen to a few other songs on this record. I gotta say, I think it’s by far your best record yet. And did you write on all of the songs this time around again?”

Y/N nods her head, a small smile creeping back up on her face. “Yeah, I did. It turns out that writing about sad things can be really cathartic. But I really want people to know that it doesn’t mean this isn’t an album about love. At the end of the day, each of these songs are love letters to every single moment or person that made me feel something – for better or worse.”

early October, 2026

[Transcription of Capital FM segment with Y/N]

“We’ve got Y/N L/N with us here on Capital FM, and we’re about to play a quick round of Never Have I Ever! Are you ready?”

Y/N smiles, holding a paddle with “I Have” and “I Have Never”. “Sure, as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Great! Now first one: Never have I ever… regifted a gift someone bought me.”

“Ooooh, not a gift someone bought me. But things I have been sent or given in goodie bags I’ve definitely regifted,” Y/N says, and raises the “I Have Never” paddle.  

“That’s alright! I think that’s not too bad. In fact, I’d volunteer to get something regifted from you,” the host laughs. “I usually donate it, but next time I’ll keep you in mind!”

“Perfect. Next one: Never have I ever slid into someone’s DMs”

Y/N rolls her eyes and raises the “I Have” paddle. “Who hasn’t? If people say they haven’t, they’re just lying to you.”

“Who’s the most famous person who’s ever been in your DMs?” The host asks, and Y/N laughs. “Hmm Taylor Swift, maybe?”

“You’re good friends, aren’t you?” Y/N nods. “Yeah, I actually wrote ‘how did it end?’ during a studio session with her.”

“Hmm that brings me to the next question – never have I ever written a song about an ex.”

Again, Y/N raises the “I Have” paddle, but then twists it so it’s halfway. “I think sometimes, no scratch that, I think almost always songs work way better when they’re open for interpretation. Isn’t it nice how everyone can take something else from it, that way?”

“Have you ever gotten back together with an ex?” The host asks, and Y/N makes a ‘tsk’ noise. “Never! First rule in the book, or so my friends tell me all the time.”

"Even when the heart wants what it wants?"

"Even then."

mid October, 2026

[Excerpt from Call Her Daddy episode with Y/N]

“I think in many ways this album is the most naked I’ve ever felt in my emotions. But maybe that’s actually a good thing,” Y/N grins.

“They do say that sex sells,” Alex (Cooper) responds, and Y/N chuckles. “You’ll find hardly any of that on this album.”

“That’s not entirely true, there’s a song on there with some explicit lyrics,” she adds.

“Undrunk? Funnily enough, that one was probably one of the easier ones to write because it actually felt the furthest removed from myself? It’s inspired by, but not based on my own experiences. I’d say it’s my unlived life,” Y/N tries to explain.

“Talk to me about that. People are always quite eager to pinpoint all experiences of a celebrity. They know who you’ve dated, look for clues and dissect every lyric. How do you decide what to share and what not to share?”

“I think it’s sort of why I wanted to share ‘how did it end?’. Even the title track is me addressing the fact that everyone feels entitled to determine my love story. Including me, I think everyone tries to engineer or hack happiness at one point in their life. But it doesn’t work like that. And at the same time, it’s important for me to try and have some semblance of control over my own narrative, my feelings, my sense of self. And that also goes for the people whose presence in my life inspired me to write these songs. For better or worse, I’m grateful for it.”

Alex smirks. “Look, we can’t avoid the topic here. We all know that one of those people is Formula One driver Lando Norris. He’s also got a lot of very dedicated fans, who’ve been clamoring under every post of yours to leave him alone ever since you started dating. How did, and do you deal with that? It would have been easy to erase him from your social media, once the relationship ended, but you chose not to do that. Was that a conscious decision on your end, or something you ever discussed?”

Y/N takes a sip of water, and purses her lips. “I kinda feel like it’s just not really my place to expand on that – it’s between Lando and his fans. Like, it actually has nothing to do with me, I feel. If people are surprised I didn’t delete like three photos, it’s just because I like them – it’s not that deep. I can still cherish good moments, even when they’re in the past. I’m not embarrassed or ashamed of the fact that my ex was part of my life. But it’s not for me to comment on it beyond that. He’s well within his rights to want to delete them, and he doesn’t need to explain to anyone – not to me, not to his fans, anyone why he did it.”

“But it’s more than that. It does seem to imply he doesn’t like the association. And yet you referenced him in the video for “Jaded”. It’s caused some controversy,” she prods a little more.

Y/N snorts. “I was just paying homage to my co-writer, and her iconic 7 Things video. But it’s also partly me taking that ownership. A video is one of the few spaces where you can set the scene. If I wanted to expand on it, I’d have done it through art. People will be mad either way, and the props don’t add anything you can’t already infer from the lyrics.”

“Has he listened to it?”

“Have you?” Y/N counters. Alex smiles, then moves on.

end of October, 2026

[The Independent excerpt]

Y/N L/N reveals tracklist to her third album as anticipation grows!

An obvious contender for the BRITs, is what the first reviews are saying about L/N's latest record “Jaded”. The LP will arrive in just two weeks, but up until today we did not know the exact runtime of the highly anticipated album. After posting to her Instagram, Y/N L/N revealed that the regular version of The Prophecy will count 12 tracks, with the deluxe edition raising that to a comfortable 16. Fans will surely be delighted to know that they can purchase various versions, all contributing to what is looking to be a very easy chart victory.

Talking to Jimmy Fallon earlier this week, L/N stated that she hopes her fans will listen to the album in its running order. “I know it’s really tempting to skip straight to your favourite, but I spent ages ruminating over how to tell my story in the best way – so I hope that translates.”

So far, all official singles of “The Prophecy” have charted both in the Official Top 20 as well as the Billboard Top 40, with The Heart Want What It Wants peaking on top, and Jaded just outside the top 10 at #11.

♥･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♡･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♥ I was soooooo happily surprised by the response to the previous part that I hurried up to post this :) Any comments, likes, reblogs, asks are super appreciated. ♥ Part III is now available here, it'll be four parts in total. for those interested, official tracklist songs

how did it end? - Taylor Swift / The Heart Wants What It Wants - Selena Gomez / Jaded - Miley Cyrus / Lie to Girls - Sabrina Carpenter / Breakeven - The Script / The Prophecy - Taylor Swift / Stay - Gracie Abrams / Science + Faith - The Script / Moral of the Story ft. Niall Horan - Ashe / Undrunk - Fletcher / Vertigo - Griff / No More Sad Songs - Little Mix / Paper Hearts - Tori Kelly / Into You - Julia Michaels / Supercut - Lorde / Genesis - Dua Lipa

[14dayswithyou]

How cutiesai made 14 Days With You

I've received quite a few requests in the past asking how I made 14DWY, what resources I used, how I organised my lore, etc. — so I figured I'd make one big post and share it with everyone else as well! It features a buuunch of helpful stuff I wish I'd known when I first made 14DWY, so hopefully this will help others too!

⚠ This is all copied & pasted from a Discord post I made back in early 2024! I'll also be adding to it over time, so feel free to check back every so often! ^^

What engine do I use?

14DWY uses the Ren'Py engine!

There are two preinstalled games (called "Tutorial" and "The Question") that give you a basic rundown on how to use the program!!

Zeil Learning's video called "Ren'py Tutorial For Beginners" is also a good place to start for those who have no idea where to begin with Ren'Py!

I also really recommend these Ren'Py resources:

Lemma Soft Forums

Ren'Py Discord server

Ren'Py subreddit

Zeil Learnings, ElaineDoesCoding, Visual Novel Design, and Ess Ren'Py Tutorials on YouTube

Searching through the "Ren'Py" tag on itch.io for community-made assets and resources (make sure to give credit if you use someone's asset(s))!

Feniks and Wattson offer some really helpful stuff!!

Not Ren'Py related, but helpful for creating a VN:

Obsidian and Notion for planning and worldbuilding

Visual Studio Code and Atom (comes preinstalled with Ren'Py iirc?) for scripting/coding

Pixabay and Pexels for royalty-free images and stock photos

DOVA-SYNDROME for music

Clip Studio Paint (paid) and Krita (free) for drawing

Toyhou.se to store your littol guys (If you need an invite code, I have over 300 to give away lmao ^^ Send in an ask to @cutiesigh if you'd like one!)

An itch.io account to upload your game for free and share it with others

General tips to keep in mind:

Make games for fun, not for fame. Too often, I see new developers create VNs with "trending tropes" because they see how successful it is and want the same level of popularity. As harsh as it sounds, this only makes your game feel hollow and superficial, and players will notice.

When using Ren'Py, it's better to have multiple .rpy files rather than putting everything into one large file!! It makes organising and finding things easier, and if something gets corrupted... at least you won't lose everything!

Plan everything beforehand, but give yourself room to expand and implement new ideas.

Start small and slowly expand over time. Don't start off with an overly ambitious project, as it can be disheartening when you put all this effort into something just for it not to gain any traction. Also, be grateful for your earliest supporters, as they're the ones who will lift your project off the ground!!

This is a personal preference, but I recommend starting off with itch.io as your main distribution platform. Most storefronts take a cut from your donations and revenue, and sites like Steam require a $100 fee just to publish your game on their platform. Itch is free, and you can even toggle off revenue sharing in your profile settings! (I like to keep it at 10% though, because I'm grateful for everything the site provides ♡)

If you ever need help with Ren'Py, you're always welcome to join the 14DWY Discord server and ping me in the help channel!

[4-the-l0ve-0f-art]

I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you…

The only words on his mind as he looked at you.

Capitano wondered how he got here. With you sleeping soundly in his arms, the warmth of your shared home seeping into his tired bones, the smell of freshly cut roses on the nightstand. If someone showed his younger self the life he was leading with you now, he would've thought he was dreaming.

He couldn't help but hold you closer as he remembered all that he had lost. All that he had seen. The stench of blood, screams of horror and helplessness surrounding him in the endless memories. Or nightmares. He wasn't sure anymore.

His mind was muddled and lost to time before you found him. You gave him an anchor. You cleared his vision. And here, in this moment, as he felt your torso move up and down as you breathed, he couldn't help but think that every breath you took was keeping him alive.

He never imagined he would find peace in his cursed lifetime. And yet, the unspoken promise of eternal love and rest between you two made itself more prominent as he spent his days with you.

I love you.

A promise.

[undercoveravenger]

Room in The Den

Pairing: Hybrid!141 x Male!Reader

A/N: Intended as an early-stages poly relationship, but could also be interpreted as platonic.

-----

It’s a bullshit new law that does it. Some asshole lawmakers deciding that just because there’s some small fraction of animal DNA in them that they can’t do their jobs right without “an actual person” watching over them that gets you assigned to the 141.

Sure, joining a team that elite is an honor, but it’s something you’d have wanted by your own merits, not just because someone who’d never seen real combat in their lives thought your new colleagues needed someone fully human to reel them in. 

You’ve seen their numbers - they don’t need you and you’re sure as hell they don’t want you encroaching on the bond that their experiences have fostered between them. That’s why you come in expecting the animosity. 

You were right. Captain Price is cordial enough, he shakes your hand without crushing it and says he’s eager to work with you but his smile doesn’t meet his eyes and the terseness in his voice tells you he’s just saying it to be polite. He’s run this task force long enough to know how to do his job without you there. His Lieutenant doesn’t even grant you that. The sergeants seem wary and you don't blame them but you know that it’s better to be someone like you that knows their worth than one of the holier-than-thou bureaucrats they’d been considering assigning to this post, so you’ll just have to try to find your place in the team.

-----

Soap is the easiest to win over. He finds you in the gym one night long after everyone else had retired back to their bunks, ripping through reps at the bench press without a spotter. He’s thrown for a minute, used to being the only one up this late since the rest of the squad is mostly diurnal, but he’s content enough to admire the way your compression shirt is darkened with sweat and to watch your muscles shift with each movement. Can feel himself drooling a little at the spice of your scent, heady and masculine and tempting enough to make him want to bite.

 He wonders a little, whether you’d be able to keep up with him and he can’t help the steady pace his tail picks up behind him as he decides he’s going to find out.

You’ve got your eyes closed and earbuds in like you’re the only one for miles and yet you still seem to sense him as he drops his bag and moves to stand near you. 

“S’dangerous,” he says as you re-rack your weights and pull an earbud out, “To lift without someone to spot you.” 

You nod, it’s one of the biggest rules of gym safety for a reason, but you’d never been great with rules. “Never much liked askin’ for help,” you admit after a minute. “Didn’t wanna bother anyone.”

He hums, and you don’t feel judged, just understood, “Well, you’re stuck with the lot o’ us now, whether you like it or not,” he grins, wolfish and happy, and moves to stand at the head of the bench to spot you, “Bother away.” And just like that, you’ve got yourself a new workout buddy.

It’s like he’s your self appointed shadow after that, waiting outside your door every morning with a freshly made protein shake in each hand, one for each of you. He’ll get all whiny about it too if you say no, pointy wolf ears drooping and tail falling still behind him. He looks like he’s about to cry until you finally relent and take yours from him (he perks up right away every time, the little faker). Eventually you learn that it’s easier to just take it from him without the fight and let him ramble on about whatever he’d seen on tiktok the night before as he walks you to your office.

He joins you for meals too, complains about the amount of food on your plate and scoops bites off his own plate to supplement yours despite your protests. His Ma had always told him growin’ up that he had to eat plenty of protein if he wanted to be big and strong and protect his pack, so he’s just tryin’ to do the same for you and doesn’t understand why you feel the need to argue about sharing food.

You’re part of his pack now, and Soap’ll be damned before he neglects one of his packmates, just don’t be surprised if he starts bullying his way into your room at night too - he’s a cuddler.

-----

Gaz warms up to you next, though he always blames the blood loss if someone asks what won him over. He’d joined you and Soap for your evening workouts a few times, and grinned at each other when you passed in the halls, but it’s not until the morning after a brutal op that he really starts to see you as part of the team.

It’s early. Barely three-thirty in the morning when the heli touches down and maybe only four when the squad tumbles through the doors but you’re right there with the rest of them. Price is already headed down to the administrative wing for a debrief and Ghost has a snoring Soap over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes on his way to the barracks, and then there’s just the two of you.

You’ve got one of Gaz’s arms over your shoulder and an arm heavy around his waist, tucked snug under his bleeding wing, taking most of his weight as you help him limp through the halls. You hang a left instead of the right that would lead to the infirmary, instead guiding him into your office. You sweep whatever paperwork had been on your desk aside, and help him up to sit, legs hanging off one side of your desk and wings cascading over the other.

You’re quick to shrug off the outer layer of your tactical gear and cast it aside, pulling out a sizable med kit from under your desk and settling on your knees in front of him. You ask him if it’s okay, before you help ease his cargo pants down enough to get to the wound on his thigh and he finds himself taken aback since their usual medic would just muscle them off or cut them away to get at it. You wait until he nods to start tugging at the fabric, fingers careful and intent as you work the material free from the torn flesh. 

He watches as your gaze flickers over the wound and you reach for what you need without even looking. He’s been told his eyes are intense before, it’s normal for bird of prey hybrids, perhaps especially so for golden eagle hybrids like him, but he’s never quite understood the way people describe being pinned in place by his gaze until now. 

You work fast, sterilizing, stitching, and then bandaging his wound with a speed that would rival the military doctors in the infirmary, and the stitches seem more sturdy than he can remember his last ones being. 

Once you’re satisfied with his leg, you stand and move behind him to get a better look at his wing. He'd taken a bullet to it, right through the meat of the muscle, and he knew he’d be grounded a long while until it healed. You hesitated then, unsure if he’d be okay with you touching such a personal area as his wings. 

Gaz swallows hard, trying to think of the last time someone other than himself had handled his wings, and nudges it back into your hands. You’re remarkably gentle, he thinks, as your fingers card delicately through rich caramel feathers until you’re able to uncover the bullet hole. You use a pair of tweezers, to make sure that there are no lingering bits of shrapnel, and a tiny set of scissors to trim back any of the soft downy feathers that could catch in the wound as it heals. 

He’s started churring by the time you’re done, a sort of contented trill from the feeling of someone else preening his wings, despite the lingering pain from the injuries. His golden eyes snap back to focus as you nudge a water bottle and granola bar into his hands with a muttered apology that it was all you had on hand, and he’s still plenty happy because you’re trying to be part of his flock by preening him and providing for him. He churs the whole while as you guide him back to his room and help him into bed.

Gaz quickly becomes a regular participant of you and Soap’s late night gym sessions and joins you for mealtimes once in a while after that night.

-----

Truthfully, you still don’t know what convinced Ghost you were worth knowing, but he supposes that’s because you hadn’t known he was there. He’d been on his way to deliver a mission report from Price to one of the other admin when one of his rounded ears caught the sound of your raised voice. His curiosity drew him to the door, cracked just enough that he was able to see you stood across a table from a trio of generals, arms crossed and back straight. 

“I appreciate your congratulations,” you growled, and Ghost was taken aback by the ferocity in your voice. He’d never heard you speak like that before, not even in the field. “But I am not the one who should be hearing it.”

His ears prick forward, tugging against the thick fabric of his mask as he listened closer, intrigued. 

“With all due respect, Major, task force 141-” one of the pencil pushers started.

“No,” you interrupted, hands coming down hard on the desk between you and the other officers, “They are due the commendations. They are the ones who built this team from the ground up. Sure, there have been successful missions since my joining, but those are not only my achievements. If you want to offer a public congratulations on a successful operation, it will be to my entire team, not just the picture you think would be easiest to publish.”

With that, you turn from the board of your superior officers and head for the door, ignoring their protests, and Ghost has to scramble back in order to avoid being hit with the door. 

“Sorry, Lieutenant,” you say as you see him, moving out of his way. “Didn’t see you there,” and for once that doesn’t sound like some slight against his panther genetics, just a plain statement - he’d been behind the door and you hadn’t meant to nearly clip him with it. You clap him on the shoulder and head off down the hall back toward your office and Ghost is tempted to drop the file where he stands to follow you, one simple interaction you hadn’t meant for him to see enough to convince him there was far more to you than he’d thought. 

You weren’t just some babysitter added to their little family to observe them like they were no more than wild animals - you actually saw their worth and were willing to fight for it?

An amused little huff escapes him and Ghost forces his attention back to the task at hand, spotted tail lashing smoothly behind him as he turns and continues on his way, sharp claws digging puncture wounds into the folder he’d been sent to deliver and your words ringing in his mind.  

----

Price was the last to come around to you being a part of their little family, though he’d never been outright hostile the way Ghost had at first. He’d done his best to be professional with you, complying with the needed paperwork and taking your insights on each operation under consideration, though he never deliberately sought you out. 

That didn’t mean he could avoid you when the team had a mission though, especially not now with the five of you piled into a much-too-small cabin in the mountains near where intel suggested one of Makarov’s bases were. Laswell had just radioed in to let Price know there was a snowstorm incoming so evac might be delayed and to expect to hunker down at least another two nights.

With only two bedrooms and a total of three small beds between them, you’d volunteered to take up roost on the lumpy couch in the living room so he’s not surprised to see you there, so much as he is by your company. You’re sprawled out in about the middle of the couch with Gaz tucked comfortably against your side, your arm around his shoulder and one of his wings curling around the both of you. As Gaz’s wing shifts, Price notices Soap curled against your legs, snoring away, but he freezes as he sees Ghost.

Everyone on the team has gone through hell, but Price knows Ghost has dealt with more than his share. Nightmares aren’t uncommon for any of them, but for Ghost a decent night’s sleep was an incredible rarity. That’s why he’s so startled to see Ghost stretched comfortably along the rest of the couch with his head on your lap and his face nuzzled into your stomach, skull mask gone in favor of his more casual balaclava, and his breathing deep and even.

A pleased little huff escapes Price, warmth spreading in his chest at the sight of his three favorite people curled up together happy and comfortable. And if you were part of that? Well, there was plenty of room for one more in that old bear’s heart.

[hug-your-face]

Haven't seen anyone raise the issue of G-AI and democracy (could easily have missed it; I'm rationing my media intake) so I will.

G-AI is a threat to freedom because it can so easily be used to drown out signal with noise.

You've heard of fake news, get ready for fake reality. World events; a clash between protestors and police; wildfires; what a politician or celebrity really said; what YOU really said... all this info can be made near impossible to find online.

Hell, even proven scientific facts or research can be buried under a mountain of legitimate-looking countering "research" with a few prompts. If someone with enough money and access to compute can get richer or more powerful by making people believe the sun revolves around the earth, then it won't be that hard for them to do it.

What you can do:

Donate to and support organizations that refuse to accept or are trying to rid themselves of AI content. You can start with Wikipedia and 404 Media which wrote the story above.

If you ever find any search engines that intentionally identify and ignore AI generated content, use them and share them.

Support groups that lobby for the mandatory tagging/identification of AI generated or altered content

Critical thinkin'. It's the new readin' and writin' and 'rithmatic. Use it. Help others use it. Check your sources. Use SIFT. Question reality. *cries*

When possible, check facts against media published before 2022. (Yeah nobody's gonna want to do that. *cries harder*)

A group of Wikipedia editors have formed WikiProject AI Cleanup, “a collaboration to combat the increasing problem of unsourced, poorly-written AI-generated content on Wikipedia.” The group’s goal is to protect one of the world’s largest repositories of information from the same kind of misleading AI-generated information that has plagued Google search results, books sold on Amazon, and academic journals. “A few of us had noticed the prevalence of unnatural writing that showed clear signs of being AI-generated, and we managed to replicate similar ‘styles’ using ChatGPT,” Ilyas Lebleu, a founding member of WikiProject AI Cleanup, told me in an email. “Discovering some common AI catchphrases allowed us to quickly spot some of the most egregious examples of generated articles, which we quickly wanted to formalize into an organized project to compile our findings and techniques.”

9 October 2024

[kissbyoon]

( 🌲 ) ݁₊ “I ALWAYS COME BACK.”

╰┈ Jeonghan knows how to make you relieved and smile.

₍ 𝑓𝘵. ₎ 𓈒 정한 ˶ fluff, angst, comf * kissing, petnames (love, baby) ⎯⎯ 1.2k ꒱ ✦ husband!jh x wife&f!rea

♪ A/N : this was completely based on this reel I suddenly came across in my highlights and I knew I had to do this !! big thanks to @wonkierideul ღ hope u enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing!! (◠‿◠)

"love?" You called out.

Wiping your eyes, you tried to clear your vision as a yawn escaped your mouth.

You move your blanket to get up, but as soon as the cold air hits your skin, you're under the comfort of your blanket again.

Sighing, you wrap the blanket around yourself and groan as you use all your strength to lift yourself up.

The weather was undoubtedly not suitable for outings, but you're sure you hear some rambling coming from the next room and you panic.

“No, he can't be…” you murmur, immediately getting up and dragging your feet along the floor towards the living room.

As expected, your eyes landed on your husband, Jeonghan, who was stuffing clothes into a suitcase. It hadn't been months since his military discharge yet the company is already putting him on work.

You halt, observing his every move; when you have no idea, your eyes start to tear up.

Jeonghan leans back and rests his hands on his hips with a sigh. Just as he begins to zip up the suitcase, he feels someone staring at him.

He turns around, a bright smile spreading across his face as his eyes land on you—standing by the door in his clothes. But it soon vanishes when he realises that you were crying.

You don't remember for how long you've been standing by the doorway of your shared bedroom, sniffling and sobbing, using the sleeve of your (Jeonghan’s) t-shirt to wipe your tears away.

“Wha— baby?” Jeonghan was quick to throw his phone on the bed and rush to you, his face painted with concern. His one hand held yours, with the other on your cheek.

“Baby? Look at me, please?” He urged, his touch gentle as he stroked your cheek.

Raising your head, you tried to look at him, but it only made you burst into tears loudly, and Jeonghan tried to hold in his chuckle at the sight of you crying like a toddler.

Which, by the way, he found adorable.

You buried your face in his neck, crying out loud—your husband wrapped his arms around you, softly patting your back to calm you down.

“Shh… it's all okay, I'm here.” kissing the crown of your head, his words came out in a comforting tone; soothing the trembling of your body.

But your crying continued.

“Baby—”

“Don't go… please.” Your words came out as a plea; desperate and helpless. Jeonghan paused, staring at the floor.

He was expecting it, but not in this way.

He looked at you—who was clutching onto his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you from falling apart, and it broke him.

“I'm not going anywhere, my love.” He inhaled deeply, and looked at you with a softened gaze.

Jeonghan was patient. He was patient as he waited for you to calm down before he could talk to you; gently holding you in his arms, swaying your body with his. Something that Jeonghan always did to relax your mind.

When you finally calmed down, your heartbeat and breathing steady—he placed one of his hands on the back of your head, slowly leaning back so he could face you.

As soon as your eyes met, the same beautiful smile spread across his face and he tilted his head. “So, that was the thing bothering you?”

His voice was comfortingly soft, with a hint of amusement that he always carried around to lighten the mood.

Nodding, you maintain eye contact with a pout on your face, sniffling. “When was the last time you stayed home?”

Jeonghan paused, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck.

“Uh, before… military…?”

“Exactly,” you choked out those words, puffing up your cheeks while a bright shade of red dusted your face.

He breathes a laugh, tightening his grip around you. Leaning down to bury his face in your neck, he rubbed your sides and smiled when your familiar sweet scent hit his nose.

“I'm sorry~” he cooed in a soft whisper, a hint of teasing in his voice that you could never miss.

“This won't make me happy by the way.”

Jeonghan pecked your neck, leaning back to kiss your cheek and jaw. “Now?”

“No.” you simply huffed, not even hugging him back as you kept your arms folded against your chest.

He lifted his head, eyes locked with yours and a gentle smile played on his lips that you wish you could snatch away with a kiss—

“It's just for a week, love. I'll come back and I'll not go anywhere else.” He widened his smile, cupping your cheeks that made you smile faintly. For a few seconds, you both stared at each other, his smile never leaving—he suddenly leaned in, pecking your lips.

“Wait here, okay?” In such a sweet voice, he said. It melted every part of you that was mad at him as he quickly ran towards your shared bedroom and soon returned with something in his hands.

Doljjongie. His pet rock, whom he often refers to as ‘our child’.

“Tada!” He squealed, taking your hands to hand you Doljjongie. You let out a laugh, holding it so gently as if it was alive and moving.

Your face brightened with a smile as you caressed Doljjongie—the silly face Jeonghan had drawn, making you giggle.

Jeonghan was satisfied.

He took a few steps behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pecking your shoulder. His hands reached out to rest over yours; caressing Doljjongie as you did so too.

“Take care of mom, okay? Protect her like I've taught you!” Jeonghan pressed his lips into a thin line, furrowing his eyebrows like he was lecturing a child; it made you burst into laughter.

He chuckled when your laughter echoed in his ears. Resting his chin on your shoulder, he kept his eyes fixated on you; the look of relief on his face accompanied by his boyish grin.

“Feeling better?” You could barely hear him, his tone hushed and soft, like you're the most gentle thing. Tilting your head to look at him, you nod; your smile growing when you made eye contact with him.

“I'm sorry,” you sighed, moving one of your hand over his to caress it. “I overreacted, didn't I?”

Jeonghan shook his head, not leaving you with any more questions.

“You didn't, my love.” He simply stated, sighing in contentment as he closed his eyes; settling deeper in the peaceful moment shared between you two.

His words were out quick but it was reassuring.

“I always keep you waiting, don't I?” He broke the silence.

“Hm, you do.”

“But I always come back, right?” He peeped his head a little forward to look at your face, and when you did turn your head towards him; he smiled with his eyes closed. You did too.

Jeonghan pecked your cheek, taking your hand to intertwine your fingers with his.

“Don’t skip meals and sleep well while I'm away. Call me everyday, text me about your day, send me your outfit of the day. I'll be waiting, hm?”

You nod, putting doljjongie aside on the couch, turning around to face him.

“I'll be waiting too.” Smiling, you press a quick peck to his lips and pull away—to which he immediately responds by pulling you by the waist to deepen the kiss.

@kissbyoon ⌕ ۫ all rights reserved/copying strictly prohibited. @/kstrucknet !