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lamb-teaa · 2 months ago

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` last of his kind, or not

` C.2 - first impression failed successfully

—⁠ ` C.1 - dragons, flowers and what?

—⁠ tags: comedy/crack. romcom. Sylus x fem!reader. AU from Sylus's myth. canon divergence. obvious OOC. whipped and boy failure Sylus anyone? /hj.

—⁠ teaa's note: wasn't gonna write a continuation of this cuz I literally wrote it out on a whim but here we are lol thanks for reading!!

—⁠ and big thanks for the support!!: @crowleysthings @stxrrielle @sylusfluffymeow @sublimeinternetlady @clearlysworld @jinnmyc @mangooes @satansdaughter123 @alahamums @xxfaithlynxx @pirana10 @kyushii

The audacity.

Was the first thought that crossed Sylus's mind when the strong slap of Datura flowers hit his face.

His eyes narrowed dangerously, a deep growl rumbling in his throat as a snarl threatened its way out-

But he halted when the sight of your bewildered gaze morphed into a fierce defying glare followed by a venomous scowl as you bare your sharp fangs at him-

Oh.

Oh damn.

Sylus might've just gone crazy because his heart just did a flip-flop for a second there.

He opened his mouth, his brain wracking between introducing himself or getting off of you, which the latter should've been the first he should do obviously but he was caught off guard when you suddenly swiped him right across his face.

Your smaller yet still sharp claws graze against his skin as you raise your legs, kicking him square in the stomach, sending him stumbling backwards onto the ground in a shocked daze.

His own clawed hand slowly reached up to hold his left cheek, feeling the small trickle of blood seeping down his skin, the wound wasn't that deep but it still stunned Sylus that you did that, his eyes drifted to you in a mixture of disbelief and awe.

First you slapped him with flowers, then the next second you scratched his face.

Oh the audacity indeed.

And for the love of all misery in the world- can his heart calm down a bit?!

"Why you-"

Before Sylus could even utter another word out, you had already spread your large wings out, instantly launching yourself into the sky and flying far away from Sylus as fast as possible.

"Hey- wait!"

Sylus's eyes widened in a panic as the female dragon took flight into the air, every fibre of his being immediately screaming at him to pursue you. The thought of not seeing you again made his heart drop in dread. Now that he knew you were real, not a figment of his imagination, someone who appeared dragon-like such as himself-

He found himself wanting you.

Although, he didn't understand what he actually wanted in you.

A friend? A companion? Someone similar to him to stay by his side in this godforsaken world?

Sylus doesn't have an answer to that, but maybe you might help him find said answer.

Sylus's wings unfurled behind him as he propelled himself off the ground at a ridiculously inhumane speed. His eyes never leaving your flying form despite your best efforts in hiding amongst the thick clouds in hopes of losing his sight.

"Wait! Come back! I'm not going to hurt you!" Sylus shouted, trying to keep up with your speed, the sound of desperation crept in his voice but you didn't slow down even just a bit.

If anything, you grew even more adamant in getting as far away from him, not even giving him a chance to talk and it made Sylus more restless but even more so determined.

He was used to being feared and rejected by humans for centuries, coming to terms with his solitude life and the unfortunate fate that befall him since his birth.

Pain, it's all he ever knew and had buried deep within him.

But seeing you, a fellow dragon, running away from him was another kind of pain he never knew would hurt this much.

Because it's one thing to be rejected by humans, but it's another to be feared by his own kind that had thought to be extinct long ago.

As the chase through the skies continued on what felt like an eternity, the view of the dark dense forest came into his sight. Sylus watched in frustration as you dove deeper inside the forest, using the concentrated surrounding area to your advantage as you maneuvered across the trees at lightning speed.

His muscles ache from exertion, his breath ragged as he pushed himself to his limits, calling out to you once more, over and over and yet you still continued to ignore him.

And Sylus was losing the strands of patience he had left.

A part of him wanted to be, let's say, civil to you but he's not courteous like those noble humans and you weren't giving him any choice either.

So desperate times call for desperate measures.

Black red mist materializes between his fingertips, as it shoots out towards your direction. You didn't have time to dodge the incoming mist when it had wrapped itself around your waist and wrists before tugging you backwards, a strong force pulling you back until you collided against Sylus's broad chest.

The uncontrollable impact sent both of you tumbling down between the spikes of trees, limbs and wings tangled together. Sylus had his arms secured tightly around you, his large wings engulfing your form so you'd take less damage from the fall at the expense of his own, before both of you crashed into the dense foliage ground.

Both of you coming to a stop after rolling down the grassy steep as branches and leaves whipped on both your faces and hairs until both lay still on the ground, with you sprawled on top of him in stunned disbelief.

Time stood frozen for a moment, only labored breaths could be heard in the quiet dark forest as you slowly lifted your head to look at Sylus, your eyes widened in panic and fear.

Sensing your trepidation, his mist subconsciously tightened around your figure and so were his arms around your waist. His chest heaving with exhaustion as his bright red eyes locked with you that shone with intense desperation.

"Please." He whispered hoarsely, his tone held foreign softness in them that even surprised Sylus himself as he struggled to catch his breath from the long chase. "I mean you no harm."

"No harm?!" You hissed at him, your eyes burning with hostility as you struggled within the binding of his black red mist. "You attacked me!"

"When did I- oh." Sylus grimaced, his mind rewinding to the events back at the flower field. As much as he wanted to explain that it wasn't an attack but then he stopped himself, because yeah, getting lunged in the middle of a nowhere field while you were minding your own business did seem like one.

So the distrust was, frankly speaking, warranted.

"I.. never meant for that." His hold on you loosened a bit, his once brash confidence faltering under your scrutinizing glare, "I just.."

"Just what?!"

I thought I was hallucinating you so I wanted to make sure you were real.

Yeah, no. Even enduring longtime solitude Sylus knows that would be the worst thing to say to someone whose immediate impression of himself is a possible threat at first met.

Sylus hesitated as he lowered his hands, the black red mist slowly dissipating into thin air as it released you from his hold. He watched silently as you carefully leaned back from him, creating some space between you two, your puzzled and guarded expression etched on your face and Sylus could only hope you won't run off again, and hoping to prove to you and reassure you that he wasn't going to hurt you.

But he was caught off guard yet again when this time, you lunged forward towards him and pinned him on the ground, straddling his stomach as both your clawed hands gripped his throat that made his breath hitch in both surprise and, dare he say, strangely exciting.

"Speak your intentions!" You growled, your grip around his throat tightened, making it clear to him that you were dead serious. "Or I'll kill you!"

Well damn.

You had just threatened him and yet Sylus couldn't help but crack a small smirk at that. It was amusing, endearing even as Sylus let out a low chuckle.

What an interesting turnout of events.

"Your name.." Sylus breathed out in awe, his hand reaching up to brush a lock of hair behind your hair as he relished the sight of your adorably confused yet stunned expression.

"I want to know your name."

—⁠ teaa's extra notes: aaaand that's a wrap! idk how to continue from here on out (lie i do actually just haven't flesh it out properly am sorry) so might take a while before I pick this back up again. Multifics aren't my strongest point tbh but hopefully my upcoming short scenarios will suffice! again, thank you for reading (⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)♡

#sylus x you #sylus x reader #sylus x y/n #sylus x mc #lads sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace #love and deepspace scenarios

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iniquitousyearning · 9 months ago

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theodore nott. | you’re mine tonight

summary: theodore nott is always willing to be used by you. if you’re going to use somebody, just let it be him.

word count: 800

tags: headcanons that once again turned into this. i try to keep things short, apparently im physically incapable🥹 nothing crazy here other then implied fwb, slight angst, reader heartbreak kinda cuz cormac sux, theo being good with words as always, make out session at the end

Theodore Nott, who watches as you and your situationship, Cormac, argue every single day.

Theodore Nott who sees you cry constantly as a result of these arguments, tonight no unorthodox exception as you come storming back into the Slytherin common room with tears streaming down your cheeks, kicking off your heels and throwing yourself down next to him on a secluded corner couch.

Your eyes, brimming with anguish and pleading for solace, lock onto his, a look he knows all too damn well.

Theodore Nott, who doesn’t have to ask, doesn’t have to pry, who already knows exactly why you’re here, sitting next to him, when you could be literally anywhere else. He reads the story in your tear-streaked cheeks and your trembling hands. It’s a scene he’s witnessed so many times he’s lost count.

Theodore Nott, who merely closes his book, runs a hand through his tousled hair, and rests the other on your knee. PDA is off the table since you don’t want Cormac to find out—even though he’s been sneaking off with more girls than you have fingers on both hands—so Theo simply looks at you with those steady, knowing eyes and whispers, “your dorm or mine?”

You swallow, grateful gaze shifting toward the door. It’s always so fucking easy with Theo.

“Always yours,” you murmur, rising to your feet and picking up your discarded heels. Without waiting for his response, you start toward his dorm, certain he’s right behind you. He always is.

Theodore Nott, who shuts the door and locks it behind you as the two of you enter. The lights are dim, the shadows of the Black Lake ripple against the walls, and moonlight flickers throughout the room. Theodore Nott, who notices the look on your face well before you do, who can already sense the words that are about to slip past your teeth.

Theo knows well enough by now that you only come to him when you’re hurt, and you never feel good about it until he reassures you it’s okay. He sees it in the subtle shift of your gaze, the furrow of your brow, the tremble of your lips—a silent plea for forgiveness he’s already long granted you.

“I’m sorry, Theo…”

Theodore Nott, who understands you just need someone to hold you right now. Someone who will look at you with warmth, with desire, with need, someone who will give you all of himself in this moment. A shoulder to cry on, bedsheets to lie on.

“It’s okay, bella, don’t apologize…”

Theodore Nott who steps closer, his hands stern yet gentle as they cup your cheeks, drawing your gaze to his. Reverent blue eyes glisten like two oceans, drowning you in their warmth. Theodore Nott who brushes the damp from your cheeks with his thumbs before leaning down, grazing his lips over yours, feather-light.

“I’ve said it about a million times, you know I’ve already told you—“

Theodore Nott, who interrupts his own sentence by pressing his lips to yours, inhaling a sharp breath as your salty sweetness ignites in his mouth. Tears mingle with your cherry lip gloss, his hands sliding back into your hair, and he’s lost and then found again—as though you’re the only beacon in a world shrouded in darkness, the answer to all his unspoken questions.

Theodore Nott, who needs this, who wants this just as much, if not more, than you do.

“—if you’re gonna’ use somebody…use me…”

Theodore Nott who practically growls those words into your mouth as fervour takes over, as hunger roars harder and stronger with each passing second. One hand grips your hair, holding your lips to his while the other falls to your blouse, slender fingers undoing the buttons with a speed that leaves you breathless.

“…I’m so fucking willing to be somebody you need…”

His fingers deftly slip the last button free, his hand sliding beneath the fabric to feel the warmth of your skin. The touch sends shivers through you, your body responding to his every move. His lips trail down your jaw, pressing hot kisses along your neck, making you gasp. Theodore's grip on your hair tightens just enough to tilt your head back, exposing more of your throat to his eager mouth.

The room seems to shrink around you, the flickering moonlight casting shadows that dance across the walls, mirroring the wild rhythm of your hearts. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze dark and intense.

"You drive me insane…how much I fucking want you drives me insane," he admits, his breath hitching. "Every time I see you with him…every time I see what he does to you…it kills me…”

Theodore Nott whose words are like gasoline to an open flame, igniting a fierce need within you, scorching while simultaneously taming the desire to be desired. Theodore Nott who groans as you clutch at his shirt, pulling him closer, desperate to close any distance between you as he shifts you around and begins backing you up toward his bed.

"Show me, Theo," you whisper. "Show me how much you want me."

With a growl, Theodore crashes his lips back to yours, the kiss searing and urgent. He moves with you effortlessly, guiding you towards the bed, never breaking the contact. As you fall back onto the soft sheets, his body follows, covering you completely. His hands roam over your skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, each touch more intoxicating than the last.

"You're mine tonight," it’s a promise. Not a question. "No one else's. Just mine."

pretty divider made by: @saradika-graphics

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midnite-c6 · 4 days ago

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Please please please please, Kim Seo-wan smutty smut... Ever since I read your Seo-wan x Reader I couldn't help but fall in love with that man more than I already was, so... PLS. if it doesn't maik ya uncomfortable obvs (⁠｡⁠•́⁠‿⁠•̀⁠｡"). ((TAKE UR TIME!))

YAYAYSYXTDGEGSYT I THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO WANTED TO LET HIM INN BYE ugh i want him (respectfully) added squid game tags since most of you guys watched ddos cuz of roh jae won and i want other ppl to see his role here! <3

kim seo-wan nsfw headcanons <3 || warnings: 18+, cunnilingus, fingering, fluff

∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠° first of all, his daily routine consists of studying, gaming, and being schizophrenic making him not have time for all those romantic, especially physical affection kinda stuff, so you have to convince and show him! it wouldn't be difficult, he's still a guy after all, let alone a guy who plays those "gooner" type of games, and to put it simply: he's a virgin.

when he starts dating you, he'd add a new lesson to his routine: porn. he's already failing his other exams, he doesn't wanna fail you!

no bias guys, but he is a touchy dude, and a kissy one at that. your lips are his revival potion, the taste of your lips is healing his whole being, same goes for your other set of lips, when he found out you make cute cute sounds while he eats you out and make out with your cunny? oh he has defeated that dragon. damn. "y...you like it here, right?" he'd take a small kitten lick on your clit, making a soft moan elicit your lips. his hands on both sides of your waist, holding onto you tightly as if you'd run away from him. "mhm.. there's good.. s'good." he's happy for your praise, lapping his tongue up and down faster, you could feel him mumble a mantra of "you're s'..yummy.." against you, you were so tasty, he loved it so much. he wouldn't even take off his small circle-framed glasses, being pushed all the way to the bridge of his nose. "ah... seo-wan..♡" you could feel the metal frame hit your twitching clit, it was a different kind of feeling.

when you guys are finally comfy, you both know study dates are cute n' all. he'd have his headset on, listening to music, a hand to flip the textbook's pages, and his other arm to be hooked around your waist, holding you securely. you'd be doing whatever too, you liked his company anyway. but whenever studies get stressful and hectic, he won't lose the chance to grope your soft tits, they're the best stress relievers after all. he's definitely a boob guy. "ah.. y/n. move closer, please? .. need ..easier.. access.." i fear he is very touchy, clingy, he doesn't want to let you go.

cosplays!! oh, when you guys save enough money, he absolutely loves to do cosplays with you! he's very grateful your character has little to no clothes, he'd savour your body everytime it's spread on his bed and would treat you like a princess for real. tell him he's super duper strong, it will make him cum in seconds. :< probably accidentally rips off your expensive cosplay too, makes you mad, obviously, but will fuck you as a consolation prize.

he's more of a giver than a receiver, he just wants you to be happy and pleased all the time! ...also makes you overstimulated every session. his fav part on himself is his hands, he knows how fond you are to them, foreplay always takes long because his fingers are stretching your poor hole for hours <3.

again, he barely has the time to do full-on sessions, but when he does, he's gonna make you a squirting mess. holding hands while fucking is sooo real <3.

"mmfh.. don't leave me, okay? stay.." he 'reminds' you, slowly pushing his dick back inside your hole, his thumb pressed firmly on your clit, how were you gonna leave him anyway? he was holding onto you like you'd escape! "i.. won't seo-wannnn..." "ahh... good girl... my healer..." he whispers, kissing you softly, his mind is definitely in another world right now, atleast you're in it. (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

someone requested seo-wan x patient!reader so I AM GONNA FO THAT NEXT HELL YEAH

#nam-gyu #nam gyu x reader #nam gyu #squid game 2 #squid game #squid game smut #squid game x reader #squid game season 2 #kim seo wan #daily dose of sunshine #kim seo-wan #kim seo wan x reader #kim seo-wan x reader #kim seo-wan smut #player 124

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leighsartworks216 · 4 months ago

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Fallen Angel

Sylus x gn!Reader (more fem-coded)

I literally didn't do work yesterday when I told myself I would bc of this fic. I was so in it that I had to keep working on it or else. And I'm so glad I did cuz I love writing in the Raven universe I've created

Warnings: torture, blood, injury, gun violence, mind control, swearing, (wanting to) vomit, slight invasion of privacy, pet names, sleep deprivation, alcohol + drinking, possessive behavior, kissing, some religious imagery, selectively mute reader, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 4,887

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

The Raven Masterlist

AO3

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“Look at you. Sylus’s prized pup.”

Electricity tears through your body. It steals the air from your lungs. Your bloodied fingernails dig into the wood of the chair. Your legs shake against their will. You grit your teeth so hard they hurt. You taste copper.

When it stops, your body sags forward, chest heaving desperately for air through the aftershocks of pain. You refuse to scream for them. Refuse to let them hear your voice when it is reserved for one man only.

“Give it up already, pup.” The man supervising your torture grabs your chin in deceptively soft hands, contradicting the tight hold he has on your jaw. He brushes his thumb against your lower lip. It comes away red. “He would have found you by now if he actually cared. You know that.”

You glare at him. Silent.

“Besides, be honest with yourself, pup,” he leans in close, too close, “why would a man like him need a bodyguard?” He tilts your head to one side, then the other. “You’re just a mangy stray he took in out of pity. A fighting dog. Good at ripping out throats, and nothin’ else. Ain’t that right?”

He shoves your face away sharply. Your world spins from that small action alone, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut until you see spots in the darkness. Boots scrape along the floor behind you. You take in one last gasp of air before the metal touches your skin.

Sylus checks his messages again. Nothing.

No texts, no calls, no mysterious notes before you left.

Shouldn’t we set the rules for hide-and-seek before the game starts?

It isn’t necessarily unusual for you to disappear, but it is unusual for you to ignore his messages. Even if you didn’t answer right away, you still read them. Now, the patronizing notice of Delivered stares back at him.

He snaps his fingers and Mephisto is there in a flash, perched on his finger and rapt with attention. The poor bird is missing you, too. His hoard of trinkets to give you is stagnant - nothing coming in and nothing going out. He’s too nervous to even go collect more.

“Search Linkon City. Any sign of them, you report it.”

The mechanical crow leaps off his finger and out the window in a flash.

In the next instant, the twins are standing before him, summoned by a quick message. They stand at attention, too. No banter passes between them. “Search the N109 Zone for any sign of Raven. By any means necessary.”

“On it, Boss.”

“Sure thing, Boss!”

He stares at the messages again as their footsteps recede into the hall. He scans your last message, searching for any miniscule clue as to where you’ve run off to.

One of my old “colleagues” is bugging me again :/

Want me to take care of them for you?

I can do it myself

I know you can, sweetheart

It was too vague to go off of. You were very tight-lipped about your past, only making off-handed comments about it here and there: You don’t sing anymore (implying you did once, which came as a minor shock to him), your apparent wealth is stolen (but no hints to where from), and you’re more familiar with the streets of Linkon than the N109 Zone. Never any mentions of past dealings you had before, or anything close to a partnership that could have involved “colleagues”.

The longer he sits here, straining for any glimpse of a past you never involved him in, the more he wishes he’d asked more. It wasn’t for lack of interest, but you weren’t very vocal at the best of times. It felt more appropriate to leave it alone and wait for you to offer up tidbits on your own.

Two prominent marks marr your skin, presenting where the alligator clips had pressed into your back over and over and over again. Charred flesh, bubbling with blisters. Something sharp pops one of them. You draw blood from your cheek to avoid screaming.

The man sighs. “You’re a stubborn one.” He pushes off of the wall and leans down to be face-to-face with you. “What’s it gonna take to get you to sing for us?”

Your body trembles with exertion as you raise your head. You haven’t been allowed to sleep. Every time your eyes droop, you get shocked. You fight not to collapse. You can’t let the torture break you. You can’t.

He smirks as he sees the blood dribbling from your mouth, mixing with saliva and snot as it trails down your chin. His satisfaction sickens you. For as much as you understand the thrill, understand the rush of bringing someone to their knees before you, you never looked at them like this. This is revolting.

You spit in his face.

“Ah, fuck!” He almost falls on his ass as he jerks away. His nice sleeve is ruined as he wipes his face.

Lightning sears through your nerves. It burns you up inside. Your muscles clench harshly, spasming uncontrollably. All air rushes out of you. It feels like drowning. Your eyes stare at the bright white light on the ceiling, unable to cry out, unable to look away. Unable to breathe.

For the first time since this whole thing began, tears form in your eyes.

The clips are removed from your skin. Colored and black spots obscure the blurry light. You think you might pass out. You think you’ve reached the end of your resolve.

And then you can breathe again.

The breaths come in wheezy and ragged. Your body lurches forward as you cough. Your throat spasms, stomach twisting with the need to throw up. But nothing comes out. You dry heave into your lap, blood landing in wet droplets on your pants.

The man pulls your head up by your hair. You can’t see him. Can’t see the ugly grimace on his face. Your eyes won’t open. You cough, desperate to vomit in the false hope that it would make you feel better. Hot tears slip down your cheeks.

“You-!” He growls in frustration as he drops your head again. You’re vaguely aware of the sound of his shoes as he paces back and forth in front of you. “Okay. Okay! Fine! You can rest now, pup. How’s that sound? You can take a nice, long nap. Sounds good, right?”

You don’t answer him. Don’t show any signs you even heard him.

“Keep an eye on them. I’m gonna go fucking change.”

Sylus hasn’t been idle. Fully aware of the breach to your privacy, he taps away at your laptop. The password wasn’t guessed, merely bypassed. He didn’t trust that he’d be able to guess it before being locked out.

He pulls up the same messenger app you use on your phone. Bypassing the password again, he watches the spinning buffer as it syncs up with your phone. It takes far too long. He busies himself with going through your search history with no luck. You know how to play this game, how to meander in and out of danger without leaving any traces. It’s a remarkable talent that frustrates him to no end right now.

No messages from Luke, Kieran, or Mephisto.

A quiet jingle comes from your laptop speakers as the sync completes. He searches the most recent messages, ignoring his own despite the red dot next to his avatar. One chat exchange in particular catches his eye:

Hello, angel~ When u gonna come sing for me again?

Never.

So ur still alive then? Thats good to hear

Ive missed u <3

Stop sending your men after me. Our business is done.

U know damn well it isnt. U reneged our agreement AND stole from me

U owe me bigger than ever, angel

You’ve made more since I left. You’re not hurting for funds.

Its the principle of the matter

U still flaked

- Read 9:38pm, Thursday -

Okay, don’t respond

But if u want this stain off ur back, u gotta finish ur deal

Same stakes as before

Ill even shorten ur sentence to one week

Now doesnt that sound fair?

- Read 12:02am, Friday -

Second Circle

David will pick u up

No thanks.

Fine. See u in hell, angel~

By the end, Sylus’s face is set in a sour sneer. The way whoever this was spoke to you was demeaning, controlling, disgusting. They acted like they owned you. You’re a bird that can’t be caged; Sylus knows this well.

But, it’s the best lead he’s got. Nothing else is as recent as this, except for your text to him complaining about your old “colleague”.

He messages Mephisto, telling him to scope out the Second Circle, a nightclub on the outskirts of Linkon. He starts digging into the place, its owner, and what he can do to have a meeting with them.

You fight sleep for as long as you can. You try everything to avoid letting the exhaustion sink in. You rub your wrists raw with the rope holding you down, hoping the pain will distract you, but the person overlooking you stops you immediately. You try to put together and take apart a gun in your mind, imagining the heft of it in your hand, the recoil that shoots up your arm, the satisfaction shooting these fuckers in the face would bring. You even try running through your last escape from this place, mentally following the corridors and steps it took to secure your freedom.

None of it works. Against your will, your body gives in. You slip into dreamless sleep.

You don’t know how long it is when you’re awoken.

The chair tips, snapping your consciousness back to the present as gravity shifts. It falls backwards, the ceiling light bearing down on you like the desert sun. Your head hits the cold floor. Hard. Before your mind can catch up, a cry is torn from your throat.

The cry is cut short.

A haze of disconnection washes over your body. You can’t feel your pain, can’t feel your body. It’s like your mind is trapped in a prison. You’re forced to watch through wide eyes as the man leans over you.

“Finally…” His voice floats in like a distant echo. “Take them to the boss. He’s got his angel back.”

No. No, no, no, no, no.

You try to fight against them as they untie your hands and ankles, as they lift you up, as your legs start walking without your input. You try to scream. To lash out. To do anything.

And you can’t.

The man must notice your struggle. Must feel it through his Evol. “Relax, pup. The worst of it is over. Now you just gotta complete your end of the bargain.”

Your body walks down a long, familiar hallway. The doors at the end are wide open. A poker table sits in the middle of the room, surrounded by faces you wish you didn’t recognize. Some of them bear the scars of your last escape.

In a gilded throne, sitting across from the dealer with a tall stack of poker chips, is the man you’ve been running from.

The Devil.

The neon lights of the night club shine like a warning sign through the tinted windows of the car. The electronic red curves and twists of a script font. The outline of a devil girl lounging on top of the name, cleavage out and winking. Her tail ends in a sharp point, underlining the name.

The Second Circle.

The air in the vehicle is suffocating. Rage boils under the surface of Sylus’s skin, barely contained. His Evol burns his hands, aching to be released.

Luke opens his door as Kieran stands guard next to it.

You’re in there.

It’s been almost a week since you disappeared. Two days since Mephisto spotted you through the door of the club. One day since he requested an audience with its owner.

Sylus gets out of the car. Luke closes the door behind him. The twins flank his sides as he walks to the entrance. A long line of patrons waits to be let in by the bouncer, a man as tall as he was and twice as wide. He barely glances at Sylus before letting him in. The customers closest to the door fall eerily silent as he passes, oppressed by the energy surrounding him.

Purple, blue and red lights break up the darkness. Poles occupied by dancers are interspersed through the room, with girls dressed up in skimpy red devil costumes or sinfully revealing nun attire. One of the poles stands on a prominent stage, gauzy red curtains drawn to a close behind it. All three of them scan the room for signs of you with no luck.

Drunken dancers and tipsy customers pass by in a blur as he crosses the dance floor to a door hidden in the shadows. Two men in suits guard it, shoulder to shoulder.

“I have a meeting with the Devil,” he announces over the music. Despite the heat raging within him, his words are cold.

One of the men nods his head. “Mr. Sylus,” he greets, too warmly given the circumstances. “The Devil has asked that you please wait until after the main show. It will be starting soon.” He gestures over to the stage.

Sylus stares through them, searching for any reason why he really should wait and not release his Evol right now and tear his way through the building.

The lights shift from bright neons to sultry reds and oranges as the music fades out. The anticipation in the room is palpable as all eyes turn to the stage. A silhouette with feathery wings stands behind the curtain.

None of this was interesting to Sylus. What stopped him in his tracks was a voice. Your voice.

His eyes shoot to the stage, face hardening as he watches the curtains part.

You, dressed up in a white angel costume, altered from something pure and holy to be lustful. Wings stick from your back, short but no less enticing. He can’t hear the slow jazz music over the siren sound of your voice. Can’t feel the burning of his Evol as his eyes follow your movements to the pole.

“You must like this song,” he points out with a grin. “You keep humming along to it.”

You smirk as you meet his eye, not pausing as you copy the melody note for note. It’s much better than his singing.

“Do you know the words?”

You nod. You push yourself up from the sofa where you lounged to lay yourself across his lap. Your arms wrap around his neck, lips brushing against his ear as your humming fades away. “I don’t sing anymore.”

His hand trails along your spine before resting on your waist and pulling you closer. “Shall I sing them, then?”

You pinch his shoulder. He chuckles.

All at once, the music turns sour within him.

“Boss, is that…?” Luke pipes up.

Kieran shakes his head. “No, it can’t be. Right?”

His hand clenches into a fist by his side. It’s minutes of torture. His eyes can’t seem to look away as you move fluidly around the pole, smiling too softly at the patrons who stand at the edge of the stage. At one point, you kneel down, knees spread apart, right in front of one of them. She gulps as you grab her by the chin, gently guiding her while you sing until her face is so close. If she’d been a little bolder, she could have met your lips. But your fingers trail along her jaw until you let go, slowly standing up while maintaining eye contact with her.

As soon as the final notes leave your lips, Sylus is at the door. He doesn’t stay to watch the curtains close. Luke and Kieran rush after him as he speeds off down a hallway.

Once the door closes, the cheering is silenced, unable to reach through the thick material. What takes its place is the laughter down the hall.

Each step feels too long. It seems to stretch on forever. Door after door, all leading up to the open double doors at the end of the hall. He only stops once he’s crossed the threshold, standing just inside the doorway as the players turn to acknowledge his presence.

The man in the throne doesn’t bother to pull his face out of your neck.

The sneer on Sylus’s face deepens. This isn’t you. You would never perch on another man’s lap like this. You would never giggle as his mouth drags over your skin, whispering sinful things in your ear. You would never turn to look at him like that, like he’s a stranger you’re passing in the street.

“We have business.”

The Devil sighs boredly, finally drawing away from the angel in his lap to look at Sylus. He smirks easily. He’s completely relaxed. The players set their cards down slowly.

“Well, well, well. Mr. Sylus. How nice to finally make your acquaintance.”

“What did you do to them?”

“Who, me?” He chuckles. He reaches for a glass on the edge of the table and brings it calmly to his lips, drinking the expensive scotch long and slow. “I didn’t do anything.”

Sylus sighs sharply, bored of this game. “Fine. What did your men do to them?”

The Devil cocks his head to the side, smirking wider. It looks too big for his face. “Nothin’ they couldn’t handle.”

Luke and Kieran keep a close eye on the poker players as their hands reach beneath the table. Their own hands come to rest at the weapons on their hips.

“Didja wanna make a deal, or are you just gonna stand there all night?”

There is no deal that could be made that would be fair. The Devil already had what he wanted - you. Under his control, on his lap, answering to his every whim. If he can’t deal with the Devil…

“Whose Evol is it, sweetie?”

You tilt your head. It’s familiar, and it’s horrifically not you. “What do you mean, mister?”

His right eye glows as he levels his stare on you. He’s never used this on you before. It feels like a betrayal of your autonomy. Somehow, he knows you forgive him.

A face flickers across his vision. Blood stains a nasty grimace. You desire the owner of that face to die. You don’t care how. Your rage almost makes him dizzy.

He pulls a gun from his waistband. The owner of the face stands first, aiming for the Onychinus leader. Sylus shoots first.

Blood splatters on the cards.

All hell breaks loose.

Your eyes seem to come into focus in a flash. Luke and Kieran are too quiet as they shoot down the other players at the table. Sylus’s own Evol reaches throughout the room, evaporating bullets before they can hit either of the twins, himself, or you. He doesn’t stop watching you.

Your face is contorted with fury. The usual calm neutrality that hides your emotions when you fight is gone. You shatter the glass of scotch on the wooden rim of the poker table. The shard you grab digs into your hand as you aim for the Devil’s jugular. He grabs your wrist with one hand, the other gripping your throat in a vice grip. Even as you lose oxygen, you fight back. You will never stop fighting back. You shake with effort as you push against his hand, but you’re gaining ground.

A black and red tendril of smoke grabs the Devil’s wrist, wrenching his hand away. The shard of glass goes clean through his skin, through his artery, until the pointed tip is caressing his spine.

He sputters up at you with wide eyes, choking on blood. It stains the white of your costume. Stains your skin. Stains the table. His hold on your neck loosens.

You lean down to his ear. “Our deal is over.”

Blood gurgles in his throat as he tries to protest, to argue, to get the last word in.

His hand falls from your throat, hanging limply off the side of the throne. The life drains from his eyes.

The room is still. Bodies lay across the floor. Some lean over the table. Chips and cards are scattered everywhere.

Luke and Kieran disappear down the hall, taking care of the rest of the security that would prevent your escape. Sylus steps over the carnage as he rounds the table. You slowly let go of the glass, not bothering to hide your wince as tiny fragments imbed themselves in your flesh. He wordlessly helps you stand from the dead man’s lap, hands becoming stained with the same blood that covers you.

You finally meet his eyes. And it’s you. The pain and anger and hatred in your eyes is too real, too genuine, to be faked by a puppet master. He brushes the blood splatter off your face with the back of his fingers. You lean into the touch without hesitation.

“Are you alright?” he asks, voice soft.

You take a deep breath in and release it through your nose. You slowly nod.

“The car’s waiting outside.”

You take a step forward. Your knees give out underneath you. Sylus catches you before you can hit the ground. You hiss in pain as you grab onto him with your injured hand by pure instinct. Your body is still trying to recover from the torture, from the sleep deprivation, from being under someone else’s relentless control for so long. He effortlessly lifts you into his arms.

“You can rest now,” he whispers against your hair. You can feel the rumble of each word deep within his chest. It calls to you, encouraging you to let go. You give in willingly this time, holding onto his shirt even as your blood seeps into the expensive fabric, and close your eyes with your ear pressed to his heart.

You look so small and fragile in his arms. He glances at the miserable man in his gilded throne. If you hadn’t already killed him, he would have delighted in torturing him the same way they’d done to you.

The hallway feels shorter as he carries you out of the building. His Evol lashes out at anybody that tries to stop him that the twins missed; footmen who flood in from the side doors. The club is devoid of patrons by the time he passes through the door at the end of the hall. Dancers panic as they hold each other, free from the same power that controlled you minutes prior. Luke holds open the front door. Kieran holds open the rear passenger side door. The car pulls away from the curb minutes before police arrive.

You wake up in agony.

Your shoulder blades are the worst. Excruciating pain pulses into your muscles from the injuries left behind from the alligator clamps that pumped electricity into your body. You’re laying on your stomach to avoid making it worse. It doesn’t feel like it can get worse.

You force yourself up onto your hands and knees, your body screaming at you to get away. You can’t see where you are through silent tears that plop on the pillow you were just using.

“Kitten,” Sylus quietly calls out. You recognize his hands on your sides as he gently lowers you back down to your stomach. You sob into the pillow. “Stay still. I’ll be back in a minute.”

You clutch at the covers and pillows until your knuckles are white. A bandage is wrapped around your hand. Blood begins to seep through it.

The bed dips beside you when he gets back. Cool cloths are draped over your back, tamping down the burning temporarily. You sigh with relief. As your fingers relax, Sylus takes your damaged hand and begins unwrapping the stained bandage. His touch is tender, careful not to hurt you further.

“Tell me the next time you intend to settle a debt.” Despite how careful he is to make his voice sound neutral and unbothered, it’s edged with genuine worry and care.

You nod slightly.

With the bandage removed, you can see through your blurry vision the telltale sign of stitches pulling your skin closed along the width of your palm. A couple of them are snapped, but there are still enough in place that fixing it now would bring more pain than necessary. His hands don’t falter as he wraps fresh gauze around the agitated wound.

“I’m sorry…” You don’t need to look to know his red eyes are trained on your face. You can tell in the way he pauses, freezing for just a moment right before he starts wrapping your hand in a new bandage. “He wasn’t this… powerful before. Back then, it was my own desperation that caused me to stay, not some fucked up Evol.”

He huffs, remembering the messages that led him to you. “How much did you steal from him?”

You shoot him a disapproving look, knowing immediately just how he got that info, but the quirk of your lips betrays your amusement. “I almost emptied the whole account.”

He chuckles as he tapes the bandage in place. You lay your hand back down on the bed. He brushes some tears from your cheek. For you to let your guard down around him so freely, especially after what you went through… “Where else are you hurt?”

“Bumped my head, but it’s not so bad anymore,” you assure him. It wouldn’t be good business to have your prized dancer covered in bruises and welts. The wings of your costume had hid the damage to your back pretty well. Besides, nobody was looking at your back when you sang anyway. Your neck had some bruising from the final confrontation. It would fade with time.

The bed shifts again as he stands up. You can see him disappear into the bathroom out of the corner of your eye. From a window right nearby, a familiar black shape swoops in. Mephisto wastes no time in cuddling up to your cheek, tucking his body by your neck. His beak nips gently at your ear and cheeks while he makes a strange cooing noise.

You smile, closing your eyes and basking in his affections. “Hello, Mephie. I missed you, too.” He clicks his beak and bites the corner of your lips. “I’ll tell you where I go next time, too, okay?” Seeming to approve your promise, he starts preening your hair.

“You’re going to wear your voice out if you keep talking so much,” Sylus teases. He sets a glass of water on the nightstand and sets two pills beside it. They’re not regular over the counter pain meds; these are definitely heavier duty.

You look up at him sadly. He catches your meaning in an instant. You want your voice to run raw, until speaking hurts too much. You’ve spoken so much the last few days against your will, you need to remember how to shut up again, need to remember the pain of talking.

Mephisto complains as Sylus slowly helps you into a sitting position, fluffing up against the pillow as he watches on impatiently. The cloths fall from your back. He sets them aside once he’s sure you won’t fall over. You hold the pills in your mouth as you take a sip of the water, closing your eyes and focusing on swallowing everything without gagging. You drain half of the glass after with a sigh.

He takes the glass and helps you lay back down. The cloths are replaced on your burns.

“You should get some more rest,” he says. Mephisto picks at the fine hairs on the back of your neck, continuing his preening. “It’ll be easier to sleep this off.”

You pat the bed next to you with your good hand, giving him a pointed, questioning look. He leans down and places a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“How could I say no to you?”

You watch as he undresses and puts on something more comfortable to sleep in. You flip your head over when he crawls in beside you. He lays on his side, hand gently tracing your cheek and jaw. He watched the movement. Your hand glides up his arm to put a stop to his restlessness. Crimson eyes meet yours.

You smile. The motion captures his attention. You drag your fingers lightly along his arm, up his shoulder, and to his cheek. His skin prickles everywhere you touch. A red-hot possessiveness wells inside him, desperate for him to be the only person to experience you like this, mixing with fear that he may never know exactly what they used you for before his arrival. And… something softer, full of longing. A desire to keep you safe, to ensure you never have to be afraid with him.

He leans forward with very little coaxing, capturing your mouth like it will redeem him of every sin he’s ever committed. It’s reverent, full of silent worship. Your lips tremble. He cups your cheek as he kisses you again and again and again.

This will never happen again.

You sigh into his mouth, pure relief stealing the tension from your body.

I know.

---

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amoristt · 20 days ago

Text

lay your love (on me)

「 ✦ seong gi-hun / reader ✦ 」

tags: nsfw // sub!gi-hon // s1, no games // dry humpingggg // reader wants that cookie bad a/n: only fitting that my first ever squid games post is smut cuz on god. i cannot get whiney pathetic needy gi-hun out of my BRAAAIN i need him so bad

Sometimes you swore Gi-hun could read your mind.

It was 5pm on a quiet sunday, the sun had just started to pack up its shift for the day before the moon took over. Glorious oranges and yellows seeped through the window overlooking your living room. Golden hour was your favorite time of the day. You idly watched the alleyway from your living room table as people began to come home from their jobs and family outings, waltzing past your window, their shadows dancing by as they went. You crossed your legs on the floor, humming. Such a peaceful day.

And yet you were anything but. You’d just come to terms with yet another random bout of friskiness when Gi-hun in all his post-shower glory, dared to step into the living room adorn in just his grey sweatpants. Shirtless, ruffling his towel over his soaked hair before running his hand through the dark locks to push it from his eyes. Little curls stuck to his forehead, and even better, you could watch the droplets absorbing the sun’s light travel down from his shoulders, to his chest, to his navel. Down his happy trail…

You were practically drooling.

“What’s for dinner?” He asked, tossing his towel over a door to hang before he joined you on the floor, totally unaware that you were seconds away from jumping his bones.

You shrug and tap your chin in meaningless thought.

You are, you think.

“Couldn’t tell you. I have no idea what I want. You wanna pick?”

“Not really.” Gi-hun sighs deeply with a shrug. “I’d rather not cook today. I’m too tired. I had such a long day yesterday, and then I woke up today with some back pain, and blah, blah, blah-”

You aren’t even listening to him, if you’re being honest. You can already feel your pulse start to quicken under your skin. By the time he finally looks at you and see’s the way you’re eating him with your eyes, you’re already turning towards him and reaching out to run your fingers along his collarbones and shoulders.

“What’s with that look?” Gi-hun leans on his palm away from you, trying to hide the way he’s already starting to blush furiously from his cheeks all the way down to his neck. When he doesn’t shy away from your feather light caresses, you can’t help but shrug with a coy smile.

“What look?” You hum.

He swallows hard, his adam's apple bobbing as he does. He won’t meet your eyeline now, having to physically duck down to bring his line of vision back to yours. There’s no way he doesn’t know what you’re up to, now, all bashful and shy like he isn’t already getting hard at the mere thought.

You press your palms flat over skin and nudge him backwards.

“Wait, hold on a second-” Like he isn’t all too willing to fall back on his ass when you apply just the littlest bit of pressure to his chest. Watching every move you make, he shudders out a gasp. “The windows open…”

“Come on.” You croon, pushing and urging him to sprawl his legs out, bent at the knees in front of you. He stares at you red faced and terse, lips pressing into tight lines, his eyes just wide enough to make you shiver in glee. You loved his expressions, just how easy he was to read. Because even though he was beet red and not immediately spreading his legs you could clearly see the want. He could never seem to hide that from you.

“I don’t know,” He glances at the window once again, concerned. “Ye-jun will be home any minute now with his wife and- ah-...”

You cut off his anxious rambling by pressing the flat of your hand firmly in between his legs and you find that yes, you were absolutely correct in your suspicions. From just underneath his sweatpants, his dick is already twitching to life. He lets his head loll to the side, watching you grope him through his pants.

“And?” Stalking up to him like a predator, you pull his knees apart, grant yourself even more access to his beautiful body. And he lets you. He whines when your hand leaves his aching cock feeling abandoned, but it’s worth it to watch the way his belly tightens when you dance your fingers over his abdomen.

His eyes flicker between your eyes and your wandering hands. “They’ll hear us.”

But then he tips his head back and hisses when you find his cock again. His fingers drag over the floor, popped up by his elbows now. You notice he’s trying to not move, to not demand. He’s so hard you’re sure it must hurt with what little attention you’ve given him.

“You don’t want them to know?” Nerves light up under your skin and spur you on. “You don’t want them to know what you get up to?”

He’s tense, shaking his head, trying to not let himself turn into a mess. He tries to fight it. Tries to act like he’s fighting it, but you know better. You know him. You swipe your tongue over your lips, grinning deviously.

“Don’t want them to know you like it?”

Punctuating the end of your sentence, you give his member a squeeze, and goddamn does Gi-hun shudder so deeply, groan so heatedly, that it rumbles from somewhere far and buried in his chest. “Fuck, I-... Fff…”

“Well?” You’re driving him fucking crazy. You can see him falling apart, leaning further back, lips parted. He’s on the spot now, caught up between trying to rut into your hand and conjuring up real sentences and not garbled nonsense.

“N-No, I don’t want them to hear.” He manages, forces it out in one breath.

You fake a pout. “Well that’s no fun for me. Don’t I deserve to hear you? Aren’t I making you feel good?”

He peeks at you through his heavy lidded eyes and the fucking face he has is just too good. All puppy-dog eye’d, panting and blushing a furious crimson. It was perfect. He was perfect. You’ve got him cornered, now. Makes you shiver and squeeze your thighs together. You go in for the kill, bringing yourself close enough to kiss and nip at his lips.

“I wanna hear you, Gi-hun.”

For the first moment or two, he gapes at you, unsure, but then you give him a good squeeze just the way he likes it and suddenly his head is tipped back and he cries out a broken moan. Keen’s so pathetically it almost breaks your coy façade in favor of climbing him right then and there.

“That’s it.” It takes a lot to keep your voice even, but you manage. Your other hand roams his chest, mapping out the lines of him, exploring the valleys and climbs of him. He shivers under your touch, riddled with goosebumps. You squeeze him again, run your thumb over his tip.

“Please, I want to-” He cuts himself off with a sharp grunt, eyes scanning over the window before screwing shut. He’s still concerned with his noise level but his resolve is crumbling into nothing as the seconds tick by. He’s even already started to beg to cum and you had barely even started yet. It pulls your lips into a smile as you watch him, observe the way his chest rises and falls rapidly as he pants. Oh, the power you hold.

“So go ahead, then.” You wrap your hand around the outline of his cock, precum starting to dot spots in the fabric. He writhes, thrusting up into your grip, even more so when you lean over him and start biting kisses into his neck and shoulder. Without restraint, you let him fuck your hand because he’s just been such a good boy for you and he deserves a reward for it. That, and the glaring fact that there isn’t much in this life that brings you more joy than watching him chase his own orgasm. There’s something magic about it, the way he loses himself and throws what little dignity he has out of the window.

In those moments, shame would be nothing but a mere word to him. All haphazardly jerking hips and gasps and whines. So desperate, so needy.

He bucks into your touch with a sense of want so urgent that you can’t help but deliver. You make a loose fist around his length and the man doesn’t waste a second before he’s found a nice rhythm languidly thrusting into your palm. Head tipped back in ecstasy, hands making fists at his sides. So receptive.

So reactive.

Gi-hun likes to act like this isn’t his choice. Like you’re some predatory minx just waiting to get him behind closed doors so you could fuck and touch and tease him as you pleased. That he’s just being dragged along for the ride. Makes him feel like less of a deviant, you’re sure. And in some ways, he’s right. You do lurk and wait for any chance you can get to have him. You can’t help it.

But even so, he knows exactly what to do to get you ticking. Little touches here and there, subtle words that you’d linger on. And then he crumbles under any pressure- which is what you do best. A little bit of pressure here and there. He lets his actions betray his words and his half-assed objections until every sentence loses all meaning.

Gently, you run your thumb over his tip again. He lurches.

“Thats, hah…” Incoherent nothings leave him in little gasping moans. He’s damn near whining as he squirms in his place and tries to maintain his rhythm.

“Good?” Voice just above a whisper, you watch him with hungry eyes. He nods frantically and bumps his hips up in need of just a little more, speeding up, driving himself into your grip. You wonder if he could get off like this, fucking himself in your grasp, seeing stars when you’d squeeze or drag your fingers along the underside before swiping over his sensitive tip. Every muscle in his body constricts and his mewls have become something more wonton- loud groans and hissing cries.

You sit back on your heels and observe the fruits of your labor. And fuck, is it a gorgeous sight.

His legs are splayed wide open for you, body held up by his elbows, his back arching and his eyes half lidded staring unfocused at the ceiling, lost in the sensations of it all. His hips grind up with reckless abandon, aching to come. The whole scene makes your thighs squeeze together again, a reminder of the way you’d been neglecting yourself thus far. Your pussy throbs in time with your heartbeats, your hands shake as they snake down your body and dip below the waistline of your own shorts.

Lips caught between your teeth, you can’t help but touch yourself. You deserve it by this point. You’re so turned on that by the time you finally swipe your fingers along your aching slit, you suck in a sharp breath that catches itself in your throat. Even without touching yourself until this moment, you’re fucking soaked. Gi-hun doesn't even notice it, too caught in quite literally trying to cum in his pants to realize you’re rubbing quick circles into your clit, eager at just observing the sheer state of him.

You want him all over you. Above you, below you. Inside of you.

And as much as you loved to see him unhinged like this, you needed more. When he grits his teeth and tries to speed up, chasing something that’s just out of reach, it excites you so much that you feel fucking giddy.

Because if you were being honest too, this was your favorite part. When he’s so mentally adrift that the only thing that exists to him is cumming. So feverish that when you finally offer your body to him he can’t do anything else except take and take and take. So frenzied and wild and desperate to get himself off like a mutt in heat that he essentially pounces and uses you as he needs. A specific, dirty mutual loss of control that has you cumming hard enough to drop by the time he’s through.

When you pull away from him, he acts like you’ve struck him. With wide eyes he cracks an eye open and peeks at you from over his rapidly heaving chest. The pathetic look he has to him only adds fuel to your fire, urges you to fuck him until neither of you can take it anymore.

“Why…?” He whines without missing a beat, hands balling into fight fists. Makes you giggle.

Always crying we shouldn’t be doing this yet whines like a whore when you stop.

He looks like he could cry, and you realize that maybe he was close after all. But his worried expression quickly vanishes when you climb into his lab and he lets himself fall flat on his back, opting to rest his hands on your hips instead of the floor. Your pussy has soaked through the thin fabric of your shorts and you know he can feel it through his own when he tosses his head back and groans, “Fuck.”

“Come on,” You grind down into his lap and he grunts. “Go ahead, Gi-hun.”

So, he does. Just as you knew he would.

It takes only a few seconds for him to completely give in to you, and to himself. He shifts and angles himself to drag his aching shaft along your core with every buck of his hips, hits your clit just right when you push back down against him. Then, in the blink of an eye, he’s shoving himself up into you so fervently, so intensely that you wonder if clothed penetration is suddenly on the table. There’s no build up in the way he’s fucking you through your pants, just vigorous thrusting that has you bracing yourself with your hands on his chest just to stay upright.

That's it. Exactly what you needed.

Every single thrust makes you lean forward just a little more, curling over him, your heart pounding in your ears. It’s so fucking good- you love when he’s like this, carnal and lewd and unabashed in the way he’s rutting against you like his life depends on it. His grip is so iron, so tight on your hips that you’re sure it’s going to bruise. You hope it does. It’s hard to keep up with him, barely able to support yourself and biting hard on your lip so you could listen to the obscene noises leaving his lips. Delicious, shameless noises.

If there was a heaven, this was surely it. Conjoined and fucked and breathing life into each others lungs. You wished you could stay like this forever. But, it doesn’t take long until you feel that familiar crescendo between your legs, your pussy growing more and more sensitive with every movement. You squirm, you thrash. It feels so fucking good. Before you feel you can properly appreciate it you’re already close and digging your fingers into the skin of his chest til little red marks dot his flesh and his name tumbles from your lips like a prayer on repeat-

Gi-hun. Gi-hun. Gi-hun.

For the first time since he’d first let himself fall back onto his ass, let you touch him and bring him to life, he looks at you. Really looks at you. His eyes are dark and far away, so clouded with lust that you can only dream to wonder what he could be thinking about. If he was even thinking at all. His hips slow for a brief moment but you scramble to grind down, pressing his cock to your needy slit with a whine. You’ll be damned if you’ll lose this now.

“Don’t stop-” You plead.

He doesn’t.

And fuck, does your little demand spur him on. He’s right back to it, letting his eyes squeeze shut once more. He brings himself to a half sit, laying his weight on one elbow while his other arm slings up over your shoulders and drags you down to kiss him by the back of your head. With one particularly powerful thrust and your lips trapped against his, you finally cum.

It’s enrapturing. It’s all consuming. White hot from your face down to your curling toes, your nails digging into his skin. You keen and wail against his lips, hips stuttering to a still as you try to ride out the endlessly crashing waves of your orgasm. You pull away from his kiss to breathe, desperately gulping in air as you lurch with the aftershocks pressed chest to chest with him. His arm falls from the back of your head to your upper back. That’s when you first realize you’re trapped.

You’re caged in his arms, one holding your heat flush against his own, the other pressing you flat and firm to his chest while he fucks against you like a mad man, unhinged, lost in the pleasure of you. Using you. At first you struggle to wrench your waist from his, overstimulated and over sensitive at the lack of reprieve. You thrash and press your forehead to his neck and sob out moaning gasps but he doesn’t allow you to separate, frantic to keep you exactly where you were. Chasing his own release despite your qualms. Your legs try to close around his waist in vain when he jumps his hips to reangle himself, damn near wailing as electricity sparks through your entire body when he nails your clit dead on with every powerful stroke.

“G-hun! I-I’m so-”

God, you can’t even get the words out. He’s got you practically bouncing over his cock and in between shaking like a leaf and struggling to breathe properly you feel your second orgasm start to mount. It’s faster this time, almost painfully abrupt. So sensitive and he’s essentially fucking you through your clothes and it’s all just too much and too good. You almost feel you can’t take it, writhing in his unrelenting grasp.

“Almost- mmn- there-” He manages, voice strained. “Fuck, I’m almost there-”

The second time you cum, you sob his name and soak him through his sweats. You don’t stop crying out, either, mewling and shouting and squirming as overstimulation ripped every noise you tried to hold back out of your throat. You’re sure you can’t take it now, tears gathering at your waterlines, hands desperately grasping for purchase until you realize his thrusts are growing sloppy and nonuniform, and his moans are broken up into desperate keening grunts. And fuck, he’s apologizing to you- babbling sorry and just a little more in your ear as if he’s not in control. As if he isn’t holding you down and fucking you until he’s finally, finally-

He bucks against you once, twice, and then he stills. His breath catches in his chest, his entire body tenses and locks up. You can feel him cum, his cock twitching from underneath you. He ruts up again, and again, three times to ride himself out despite your mewls of objection.

When his breath starts to leave him in low heaves, you’re freed from his animalistic hold. He falls flat on his back with you in tow, panting, seeing stars. You both breathe, exist, in tandem, coming down from your highs. It’s like being made of lead. Barely able to move, you manage to hoist your upper half up, leaning against his chest. His eyes are cracked open, unfocused, unprocessing in his post-sex haze.

So you let yourself fall against him once more, spent. Everything felt so heavy now.

It takes a long moment before either of you collect yourselves enough to speak again. Like usual, he’s the first to break the silence.

“I’m sorry.” Is all he murmurs, breathless.

He’s guilty, but you can’t help it. You grin.

You know how he hates it- to lose control like that. It’s embarrassing, he says it makes him feel like an asshole.

You deserve better than that, he’d pout. I just couldn't help myself.

Little did he know how dearly you adored it, being used up whether you came or not. Not to mention, for the rest of the evening, you got the ultimate princess treatment. The man treated you like fucking glass, insists at your every whim if it means feeling like less of an animal. Probably because he has a natural guilty conscience.

Mostly because you used it to your benefit.

He swallows hard. Guilt is hardwired into his brain. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

Though you knew you could easily say you already did, you instead opt to sighing against his skin. You hum. “Okay.”

Little manipulation never hurt, right? Not after you so kindly let him take you like that. Raw, and unrestrained.

You both lay there like that in the afterglow. Your mind settled into a quiet, fucked out haze, whereas he was likely wondering what he could do for you to make up for it. Laying against him, at the edge of a satisfied sleep, you could die there and die happy. His hand pets down your back, runs through your hair.

Oh, how you love him.

Your attention is only torn from Gi-hun when you notice darkness shroud over the window. It’s quick, dashing from one side of the window to the other as two figures passed by. It seems your neighbors had been coming home soon, afterall. You giggle into his neck.

“Look who’s home.”

His chest constricts and he eyes the window quickly before shooting a worried glance back down to you.

“You think they…?”

“Oh yeah. Heard every bit.” You giggle again, sitting up, foggy with sex and ignoring the way your body complains.

Truthfully, you knew that they likely didn’t, having only just now meandered past your window, caught up in conversation on the way to their apartment. But you can’t help it, you love to tease him. He tosses his arm over his eyes and groans in pure shame, and god, if you hadn’t already been totally drained you could have taken him again right there. Shameful and shy, red from his cheeks to his chest, lips parted with short, puffing breaths. Something about it drove you mad. You couldn’t get enough of him.

Instead of jumping his bones for a second time, you opted instead to roll off of him and lay flat on your back at his side, the floor striking cold in comparison to his warm body. You’d have another chance soon, anyways, soon. Very soon. Probably in the next hour or so when he does something particularly mundane or gives you a specifically pitiful look and for some reason you can’t help but start touching on him again. But till then, you were down for the count.

He glances at the window again and shakes his head. “We're supposed to go out for drinks later, how am I supposed to look him in the eyes?”

You shrug with a yawn. “Don’t know. You’ll have to figure it out.”

Gi-hun wraps his arm around your side and pulls you against his side, flush. After a beat of silence, he says, “Hey, what do you want for dinner? I’ll cook.”

Your heart flutters, and you chuckle. “What about your long day yesterday, and your sore back?”

“Don’t mind all that,” He says, waving it off. “Whatever you want, I’ll make it.”

“In a little bit.” You nuzzle into his side and yawn again, stretching an arm over his chest. He rubs circles into your waist. “Let’s lay here a little longer, yeah?”

When Gi-hun nods, you can feel the way his entire body relaxes all at once. His eyes slip shut, his breathing changes. He kisses the top of your head. Scratch what you said earlier- this must be heaven.

You doze off dreaming of Gi-hun, noodles, and tteokbokki.

#i hope yall like this i put my entire amorussy into it #seong gi hun #seong gi-hun x reader #gi-hun x reader #squid game #i love this man soooo bad im insane in the membrane

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