#then he managed to get in and i woke up in a sweat for the first time in my life

[hrts4nagi]

best friends brother!

my best friend's brother is the one for me!

pairing :: itoshi sae x gn!reader (short implied)

synopsis :: third year of high school and graduation is right around the corner! you have so many great and upcoming things up ahead. some planned and some unplanned.

what definitely wasn’t planned was falling for itoshi sae, more commonly known as your best friend’s brother.

what a way to break the pact.

wc :: 2.3k

extra :: i love the victorious sound track!!!! p.s listen to best friend's brother for a better experience :>

the best friend pact - rules:

#1 - always be happy for each other

#2 what was number two again?

#3 - do not fall for your itoshi sae

SUCCESS FAILED

shit.

well, to be completely fair it’s not like you meant to fall for itoshi sae right? it’s not like you were always searching for him as soon as you entered the room. it’s not like you didn’t mean to get lost in his gorgeous teal eyes. or the way you’d get sneak a peek at his abs whenever he had to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

who am i kidding?

you’re completely, utterly, hopelessly in love with itoshi sae. did i mention he was your best friend’s brother?

who knew a pact made 12 years ago would be the sole cause of your distress?

the rules have gotten fuzzy over the years but the one clear rule rin emphasized every time was to not fall for sae. he claimed it was because they have the same eyes, eyelashes, and name. he thinks it would be the equivalent of you dating him.

and he does not like the sound of that.

-

“reo i’m so screwed!” you flop onto his king-sized mattress rolling around face covering your eyes.

“hey! at least change out of your uniform before rolling around in my bed.” he scolds.

you stuck out your tongue at him in response earning a scoff back. “i wish i could lay hear all day," you sigh contently.

“that’s what i’ve been saying,” you yelp not noticing the white-haired boy under the covers.

gasping, you clutch your chest in shock. “what the hell, nagi? have you been here this whole time?”

“yah, you woke me up the second you landed on me.”

he rubs his eyes before sitting up. “hey, y/n while you’re here can you make those buldak noodles you always make? i really want something spicy."

“yeah sure, reo do you still any packets left?”

he sighs before pulling some out of the cabinet. “only for you guys.”

you slide a bowl over to nagi and reo. you lean onto the counter awaiting their response, tapping your fingers in anticipation.

“so what's up with ya?”

“stop eating with your mouth full.”

“it's sae.” you frown taking a seat at the counter across from the two.

nagi perks up his head. “oh, so you finally confessed to him?"

you slam your head down onto the counter in frustration.

“i'm taking that as a no.”

you slightly raise your head up to make eye contact with the two. “what do i do? if i act on my feelings, rin will kill me! falling for his older brother is the ultimate betrayal.”

“i don't think you're betraying him, per se,” reo defends. “think of it more like bending the rules a bit!”

“i'm completely breaking the rules reo. the golden rule for that matter!” you argue.

“huh, well that's unfortunate.”

-

study sessions at rin’s was commonplace. having a terrible habit of bad time management and being a professional procrastinator, rin dragged you willingly forcefully to his house after school, to get all the studying done. but don't worry, it came with perks!

#1: free tutor

#2: free snacks

#3: getting an occasional glimpse of sae

"for english, there's a lot of words that have a silent-"

rin's words drown out as you begin daydreaming. losing complete track of rin's current lesson, you turn your head towards the backyard, where you see sae dribbling the ball outside. watching his figure run by every other second.

“you know if you’re gonna stare at my brother, can you at least do it when i’m not in the general vicinity?” rin deadpanned.

“i wasn’t oggling at sae,” raising up your arms in defense.

rin raised an eyebrow at your choice of words. “what was i talking about then?”

“uhm,” you ponder attempting to trace back your steps. crap. you were way too focused watching sae to even comprehend what rin was saying. the lesson is completely bleary in your mind.

“about our upcoming exam right!” rin lightly smacked your head with his notebook in response. you rub the area he hit before looking at him with a pout.

“wrong, i was talking about my upcoming game which you’re going to. right?” rin points his pencil at you accusingly.

“yup! wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

you nestle back into the couch trying to regain focus on the question in front of you. unfortunately, your mind began to wander elsewhere. every time you close your eyes to think of the solution of the equation, the image of sae would flash in your head.

first, you'd see his deep teal eyes, donned with his infamous bottom eyelashes. you swear you could get lost in them all day. next, the shaggy magenta hair that managed to look 100x better when styled down.

what were you doing? aren't you supposed to be studying?

you shut your textbook quickly, startling rin in the process.

“i’ll be back, i think i need a drink.” rin nods in response as you usher to the kitchen.

you sigh looking down at the glass of water, swishing it around. unaware, you turn without realizing there was someone in your pathway. colliding with a hard chest as the glass shatters to the kitchen floor.

you crossed your fingers hoping you didn't bump into last first person you wanted to see.

“woah careful.”

there stands itoshi sae. you notice his hair being slightly damp, presumably from the exercise drills he just completed. you snap out of it, realizing you were staring at him longer than necessary.

“shit, i’m sorry,” you bend down to pick up the broken glass, before you even get the chance to, sae gently swats your hand away.

“careful. don’t want you to hurt yourself,” your cheeks burn at the subtle contact.

he cranes his neck towards you, making eye contact. “it’s okay, i’ll clean it up myself.”

sae slips off his hoodie but not before you take a quick peek at his toned stomach.

you were definitely no better than a man the way you shamelessly watched him. he glances at you while raising an eyebrow before turning away to avoid eye contact once more.

“well, it was nice running into you! sorry about the glass, i have to go back to studying!” you hurry out of the kitchen before sae can even respond.

returning to the living room, rin is surprised to see you all flustered and sweaty. “what happened with you?”

“nothing!”

rin raises an eyebrow, not entirely convinced. unconcerned, he turns back to his notebook reviewing the material.

-

you swear itoshi sae is doing this on purpose.

every time you're over, you always find yourself in lucky terrible predicaments. last week, you wandered into a seemingly empty bathroom to be met with a shirtless sae. a single towel wrapped around his waist, leaving little to no imagination.

and what does he do?

he tilts his head at you and continues to brush his teeth, as if you were never there in the first place. when you return to rin’s room, even he's concerned that you might be coming down with a fever from how flushed you were.

just yesterday, you were aiming for a glass on the top shelf. before you knew it, sae was behind you pressing his chest onto your back. he was so close that you could feel the warmth emitting from him and the fresh, crisp scent of his cologne.

it was intoxicating.

nonchalantly, he reminded you to be careful next time as he handed you the glass and walked away. you were left blinking at the action.

itoshi sae was driving you crazy. scratch that, insane. you absolutely had no idea what to do about it.

you think it's absolutely infuriating how itoshi sae remains perfect and composed, sporting the same deadpanned look every time.

meanwhile, you're left a stuttering, blushing mess from each and every interaction. you swear you want to punch his face the next time. (you wouldn't dare to ruin his pretty face)

-

“hey, can you do me a huge favor?”

itoshi rin never asks for favors.

stunned, you continue to listen along, wondering what he has to say.

"you're not going to ask me to kill anyone are you? did isagi really piss you off that bad?"

rin flicks your forehead with irritation.

“sae’s down with a fever," he starts. "neither my mom or i are able to tend to his needs cause of our schedules. you don't have anything to do this afternoon right?”

you slowly nod.

“cool, all you have to do is serve him leftovers my mom left on the stove and make sure he takes his medicine. after that, you're free to go.”

-

you could not do this.

standing in front of the itoshi household suddenly felt foreign to you. a sense of dread washes over you at the thought of the current situation.

what's the worse that can happen being alone with sae?

you didn't want to give it a second thought.

after twenty minutes of back and forth, you managed to enter the kitchen to prepare sae's meal. it didn't take too long, it was a quick and simple task. though, you're unsure why you ended up missing the bowl once or twice, having to clean up the mess.

the tray settled on your hands became ten times heavier from the nerves coursing through your body. you make your way to second floor, your legs feel like jelly. you sure hope none of the sweat droplets from your forehead fell into the soup. mustering enough courage, you lift a hand to the door and softly knock.

“sae?”

there's a moment of silence.

“come in.”

you enter the older itoshi’s room. you watch as he slowly sits up. prominent bags under his eyes, a flushed face, and weak deameanor. not to mention, the complete lack of color from his face. this looked nothing like the sae you know.

"hey, how are you feeling?"

"like absolute shit." you chuckle from his remark.

"sorry that was a stupid question."

you make your way towards the side of his bed, tray still in hand. being extra careful to ensure the contents of the bowl don't spill.

"do you think you're able to eat?" you stretch out the tray as an offer.

"my throat is killing me but i'll just suck it up, i have to take medicine anyway."

you place the back of your hand to sae's forehead, eyes widening at the heat. his face was hot to the touch.

"yikes, you really are burning up."

all sae could do was nod weakly in response. a frown replaced your expression. seeing sae in such a state tugged at your heartstrings.

"i can feed you so you can save your energy?"

sae nods once again.

he hopes you mistake the flush of his face from being sick, not one of revealing his feelings.

carefully, you lightly blow onto the soup, gesturing sae to open his mouth. he complies, opening enough for you to slip the spoon in. soon enough, he finishes his meal. he takes his medicine shortly after.

"almost done! let me go get a new rag for your forehead and then i'll leave you to rest," you smile softly, turning to exist his room before he latches onto your wrist.

“wait, don't go.”

you whip your head back so fast you're sure you have whiplash. gently, sae pulls you towards him. all you can do is let him lead you closer and closer.

this was so unlike sae.

“stay with me? please.”

itoshi sae never pleads. who were you to deny such a request?

you pull up a chair from his desk and take place to the side of his bed once more. the two of you share a moment a silence, basking into the

“never knew you were the type to be so clingy,” you tease.

sae doesn't even have the energy to throw you one of his usual glares. instead, he grabs your hand once more bringing it up to his chest. shocked from the gesture, you attempt to bring your hand back towards you but to no avail. sae has other plans.

“what are you doing?”

“i'm showing you what you're doing to me.”

your eyes widen at the unexpected confession. you're sure your face is beet red. your heartbeat feels so loud you wouldn't be surprised if sae can hear the rhythm of your heart.

"wait, sae i can't! it's one of rin and i's rules."

he scoffs hearing the mention of the younger itoshi. he composes himself despite being sick to make his actions loud and clear.

“i don't care. rules were meant to be broken anyway.”

in a swift motion, sae drags you from previous seated position to under the covers with him. you gasp from the abrupt action. he buries his head into your neck, softly inhaling the scent of your perfume.

you comply as your hand makes it way to the top of his head. you scratch light shapes into his scalp earning a sigh of contentment from sae.

"if you get me sick, im going to kill you."

"yeah yeah."

guess his plan worked out after all.

-

bonus:

“huh? what pact?”

you gape at rin. surely, he didn't forget. right?

“the pact we made when we were 5? that pact? the best friend pact?”

all rin does is blink at you.

“doesn't ring a bell."

“you're joking right? please tell me you're joking.”

“i can assure you i'm not.”

you face palm before returning to meet rin’s eyes once more. “so, you really don't care that i'm dating sae?”

“oh that's great news actually, i was wondering when you'd finally make a move.” he shrugs.

“what? so you knew!”

“how could i not? you weren't exactly subtle about it.”

"so, you're not gonna kill me for dating sae?"

"no, i'm livid."

you can feel a sweat drop trickle down your forehead. rin releases a breath before speaking again.

"but, you seem happier with him. i guess. so, i don't really mind." rin ruffles the top of your head as you continue the way to your second home, the itoshi household.

☆.

a/n :: rin is a 10/10 best friend. i lowk hate the ending might revise at a later time </3

[kruxton]

aphantasia not letting me dream at night most of the time but the only two dreams i remember having in all of my life were the scariest shit ever

[ghstzzn]

so needy — enhypen hyung line

pairing(s): enhypen hyung line x fem!reader (separate!)

genre(s): pure smut. with some plot from overexplaining.

tags/warnings: SMUT! MDNI! needy but not quite subby, rough & sloppy unprotexted sex, face fucking, jake munch agenda, masturbating (m. rec), male whimpering yupp, lots and lots of descriptions of boners, seriously they are all hard. no prep for reader, exhibition heh.. (parking lot & bathroom at a party), tried my hardest to go needy im a hard!dom writer im sorry, creampie, one pullout method, cum eating, cum... feeding?, biting, uhh lmk if i missed any srsly. wc: 3.2k. 400-700 for each

💭: WE LIKE OUR MEN IN HEAT GROWLS🦅🦅🦅 @jjunieworld and i. we went insane. i went insane. i seriously tried to make them needy and jakes is probably the closest ill ever get to writing a subby idol. its hard. sorry. ill try harder because i like this i think. <3 i need to get them pregnant asap.

heeseung had been in the recording studio since he had woken up, and yet he still had a long night ahead of him due to editing and touch ups. he was going insane.

you had sent him a selfie of you when you woke up, complaining about him being gone. it was innocent. but heeseung has been rock hard since.

his thoughts were full of you— every lyric had just reminded him of you and fuck he’s never needed you this badly before. the pillow that he’s kept on his lap all day felt like a fucking brick and he’s been subconsciously bucking his hips into it.

heeseung lets out a groan, throwing his head back as he cups his hardened cock through his flimsy sweats. he cannot take it anymore. pulling out his phone, he shoots you a text, complaining that he was hungry and didn’t feel good— a little lie because he knows if he told you he was painfully hard, you’d just tell him to wait. he can’t do that.

you’re so sweet to him, truly, you ask him if he’s okay and tell him you’ll be there in ten.

the door automatically locks when it's shut and you walk up to him, resting your hand on his forehead. he is feeling warm. heeseung leans into your touch and groans softly before grabbing your wrist, throwing the pillow and sitting you on his lap.

not even three minutes later, he’s thrusting up into you relentlessly. you’re desperately trying to grip onto anything, his shoulders, the chair and even the equipment table behind you. heeseungs grip on your hips is tight, bruising even. 

you’re both already cumming, the pace he set was too much for you and he’s simply been hard way too long to last more than seven minutes. though, as soon as he emptied himself inside you, he’s lifting you out of his lap, shoving aside an expensive keyboard and shoving your face down onto the table.

“fuck- fucking take it,” he spits as he continues pounding you from behind. “b-been so fucking hard all day, all because of you.”

his cock is hitting the most sensitive spots with his brutal speed, you almost feel as if you really did something wrong. you reach up to grip onto something, knocking into a few buttons in the process, turning on some music— which honestly helped cover the sounds of your moans but probably not necessary due to the soundproof room.

“hah- heeseung it’s t-too much!” you manage to squeak out, hiccuping and whimpering.

you’re spasming around his cock once more, he sloppily thrusts into you a few more times before pulling out and emptying himself on your lower back. you weakly lift yourself to peek behind you, glancing back and forth between his still hard cock and his eyes that were full of nothing but lust. 

heeseung will be here all night— and so will you.

─────────────────

jay thought it’d be a good idea, a great one! he brought you with him to tour some fancy guitar museum he was invited to. you both were so excited to attend, throwing on your best outfits— which included that one dress that jay absolutely went feral for.

he could barely focus on the guitar he was testing out when you were sitting so pretty and patient in front of him, smiling and cheering him on. he didn’t even realize he was fucking up the chords, face red when he realized it wasn’t just you and him in the room.

you sat in the acoustics room with him, dress riding up your legs, leather jacket hanging off your shoulder as you watched him pick at each string with so much adoration in your eyes.

jay was going to go fucking insane. he can feel himself hardening at the mere sight of you— truly he’s usually better at keeping himself kept in public.

when you asked so sweetly to try out at guitar yourself, he thought he would combust right there.

he helps you choose a guitar, slipping the strap around your neck and even setting up the amp for you. jay sits back and watches as you play around with different chords you’ve picked up from him, but his eyes refuse to leave your fingers.

the way they delicately pluck each string or how they grip the guitar pick, how your other hand grips the neck of the guitar to hold down strings. he almost groans when he watches you almost struggle to fit them around it.

if only that were his cock. 

jay has to keep yanking and pulling at his jeans. he almost grabs the guitar from you just to cover his inevitable boner. his jaw is clenched, he wants to leave so fucking bad. he’s seconds away from pulling you into the closest room and tarnishing his image just to fuck you.

finally, your time at the guitar center was over. jay’s practically dragging you to the car and you aren’t even sure why. maybe you did something to upset him?

as soon as you reach the car, he’s sandwiching you between him and the cold surface. your boyfriend doesnt waste a second before grabbing your hand and forcing you to grab his throbbing cock through his jeans.

“for the past four fucking hours,” he grits out, nuzzling his face against your cheek, “four fucking hours that i’ve been so fucking hard. because of you.”

your face is red and you’re whipping your head around the parking lots, it’s almost empty thankfully— and dark outside. “i-i did this?”

he groans in the crook of your neck, “please, baby, fucking need you now.”

those are the only words you need to get you to drop to your knees. your hands shake slightly as they fumble with his belt, pulling it apart and yanking his jeans down just enough to free his cock. 

it’s practically red and leaking, you almost pout when you think about your poor boyfriend being that hard for so long because of you.

jay seems to not like how long you're taking because he’s immediately taking your hair into his fist and smacking his tip against your lips. you eagerly invite his length into your mouth, using your hands to work whatever you can’t fit. 

he has to hold back from cumming right there. the way your lips wrap around him so well, your throat struggling to take him. this is exactly what got him hard in the first place. jay rocks his hips back and forth, pushing his cock further and further into your mouth.

“yeah- fuck. taking me so well, huh?” jay mutters, biting his lip to contain his grunts. “thought about this exact fucking thing in there. so pretty around my cock.”

his words make you hum in arousal, sending vibrations down his length. jay groans and throws his head back, pushing you further down his cock. the gag that rips from your throat is almost enough to make him empty himself all over your face.

jay continues to practically fuck your mouth. your hands drop to grip his thighs as you let him use your mouth however he pleases. both of his big hands in your hair, forming a messy ponytail tail as he continues to thrust into you roughly.

“fuckfuckfuck! almost there, baby.” he’s almost whimpering, it’s so good. after a few more thrusts, he’s pulling out and cumming, emptying himself onto your cheeks and lips. 

there’s so much cum you have to take him back into your mouth to save yourself from a messy shirt.

jay pants as you ride him through his intense orgasm. needless to say, he’s fucking you again in the car this time.

──────────────────

jake was restless. he was quite literally rolling around on your bed as you ignored him for some stupid fucking book.

“jake, i seriously need to cram this by tonight. then we can hang out!” you promised him.

six fucking hours ago. he groans loudly, loud enough to make you scoff and shake your head.

“why don’t you go play on my pc?” you suggest sweetly, “you love the games i have on there!”

“i dont want to do that.” 

you sigh and shrug your shoulders in response, you already told him countless times that you were busy and he’s the one who chose to stay.

“baby, please just take a break.” he pleads. “there’s no way you’re finishing this by tonight.”

he rolls over on his stomach and grips onto your leg, sporting a dramatic expression. jake was right, there was no way you were finishing any of your work tonight, but that almost gives you more reasons to not take a break. 

“the sooner i finish, the sooner i'll be all yours baby.” you tell him, patting his fluffed up hair down, messy from rolling around.

he groans again, “noo, baby i want you- no i need you now!”

“why are you so antsy right now, jake?” 

jake drops his head into your lap, muffling his voice. “ ‘m so horny.”

“hm?” you hum, not quite hearing him. he only responds by softly kissing your inner thighs, unable to hold back any longer.

he pushes his jean clad cock against your soft mattress as he travels down your thighs, leaving a trail of kisses behind. 

“jake.”

“i said im horny. im so fucking horny and you smell so good.” he repeats, lifting his head to look you in your eyes.

your brain freezes at his words. “i… i’ll be done soon, i promise- just-“

he cuts off your words by pressing a desperate kiss over your clothes cunt, sending shivers down your spine. you can feel yourself getting wet by his needy and desperate actions.

“jake!” you whimper out when he licks a stripe over your pajama shorts. he doesn’t even care that you’re still fully clothed, a piece of flimsy fabric won't stop him.

your boyfriend continues to make out with your cunt through your shorts, shifting to bite and suck at your thighs. “pleaasee.” he lets out a muffled whine.

you’ve already dropped your books and papers beside you, soft whimpers leaving your mouth as your hands find their spot in his long hair. “fuck— jake slow down!”

jake shakes his head, his own hands moving to yank down your sleep shorts. he knew you weren’t wearing panties, and he’s pretty sure that’s what got him so horny in the first place. the amount of times he looked down at your thighs to catch small glimpses of your ass and cute cunt because they were barely covered.

it took so much restraint to not shove his aching cock between your thighs��� make you forget all about your boring paperwork.

jake attaches his lips to your clit, sucking and practically making out with it. every now and then he shoves his tongue as deep as he can inside your oozing hole, gathering all your juices on his tongue and slurping.

you can’t tell who's moaning louder, you or him. he’s attacking your cunt with everything he has all while rutting his hips into your mattress, attempting to pleasure himself but he could honestly cum untouched as long as he had your sweet pussy in his mouth.

he’s groaning against your cunt and letting out incoherent curses, “f-fuck.. hmph so- so good.”

your eyes roll to the back of your neck and you can feel the heat pool in your lower stomach.

“jake- gonna cum, please dont fucking stop!” 

jake listens well, continues to suck and lap at your wetness as if its his last fucking meal. you don't even notice his hand leaving your thigh to jerk himself off but when you do— it pushes you immediately over the edge. 

you tremble as you cum all over his mouth, and he only eagerly slurps it up. he doesn’t pull away and until you yank him up by his hair, you stare at his soaked lips, your arousal dripping down his face. 

he lifts himself up to kiss you, feeding you your own cum, his hand comes up to grip your neck as you engage in a desperate kiss.

when he lets go of you to rid himself of his pants, your hand comes up to touch the wetness left on your cheek— it hits you that jake came all over his own hand while eating you out.

there was no way you were letting him out of your sight tonight.

───────────────────

sunghoon was giddy when he found out he could bring a plus one to the prada after party. he literally couldn’t wipe the grin off his face when he told you that you could accompany him.

but now he almost regrets it. 

since you were his plus one, you had gotten a free outfit from the brand. and god was it the best thing he’s ever seen you wear. but also the worst.

this wasn’t his only issue. you were his plus one. so why the fuck were you pretty much attached to jungwon at the hip? why were you ignoring him when he’s the reason you were there?

it’s not like he was angry either, instead he just really really wanted you right there next to him. he was so fucking horny. 

even before you both left the house to head over. he had no idea what the outfit looked like until you put it on and his eyes almost popped out of his head.

sunghoons also not really the type to voice his every thought to you, otherwise you both would’ve skipped the party entirely just to fuck.

well, he wasn't angry. but he can’t help it when the horniness eventually turns into pure sexual frustration. he leans further into the couch as he watches you bounce back and forth from jungwon and heeseung. 

your lonely boyfriend couldn’t even tell if he was jealous, angry or hurt. above all, he just wanted you to sit on his cock for the rest of the night. he understood that you were having fun, some of your other friends in the industry were also invited to this party but he couldn’t help but to feel so left out.

he almost groans as he watches you make your way to yet another one of his members. what about him? he’s here too! his cock twitches beneath his dress pants and he sets his hand with his drink on top of it, hoping it’s not obvious that he’s suffering at this very moment.

“you okay, man?” a voice calls from behind the couch, sunghoon looks up to see jake hovering. “you haven’t moved from that spot in about 40 minutes.”

sunghoon nods and shrugs, “can you tell my girlfriend to meet me over here? i haven’t seen her all night.” he lies through his teeth, he’s literally been watching you all night.

jake tilts his head in confusion, “uh, yeah. i’ll go get her, be right back.”

he taps his finger on his cup as he watches jake whisper in your ear, pointing behind him in his direction. you glance behind jake and sunghoon quickly averts his gaze.

you nod and respond to jake before making your way over to your boyfriend. 

sunghoon quickly downs his drink as he sees you walk towards him, a soft smile on your lips. so now you’re finally paying attention to him?

“what’s wrong, hoonie? jake said you needed me.” 

he nods, setting his drink down and grabbing your wrist instead, “yeah. i do need you, right fucking now.”

you don’t get a chance to question his words before he’s yanking you towards the furthest bathroom in the building. you’re heels almost make it too hard to keep up with him and you’re calling out his name but he’s too occupied on finding any empty bathroom to fuck you in.

sunghoon finally finds one, tugging you into it and slamming the door behind you and clicking the lock.

“what’s wrong, baby?” you ask him again.

“why are you talking to every single one of my members but not me?” 

you blink at him, surely you’ve interacted with him throughout the night. a smile grows on your face when it clicks. “awwe, hoonie! are you jealous?”

sunghoon grips your chin with his hand, “i’m not jealous. you ignored me, there’s a difference.”

“i wasn’t! and i’m here now, right?” 

he rolls his eyes, smushing his body against yours and the door. “baby seriously. need you so bad right now, i had to watch you talk to everyone while i was sitting there so fucking hard.”

your eyes widen slightly, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“god this fucking dress— i’m going insane.” he ignores your question completely, pulling the bottom of your dress up your thighs.

“sunghoon! we can’t- not here!” 

“mm, i don’t care.” sunghoon mutters as he pulls your dress above your hips. “told you i needed you, huh?”

he grips your hips and moves you against the fancy bathroom vanity, turning you around and laying you flat against the counter.

sunghoon ruts his clothed hardon over your own panty clad cunt. “feel it? feel how hard you make me all because a stupid dress?”

“y-yeah, hoonie.”

he sucks in a breath of air and yanks down your flimsy thong before practically ripping the button off his overpriced pants to free his angry cock.

you glance at him in the mirror when he aligns his leaking tip with your wet entrance. no amount of slick and arousal could make taking his size any easier.

“wait- baby i can’t take you like that..!” you pleaded with him.

sunghoon doesn't listen, stuffing you with his length, ripping a gasp from you, forcing you to throw a hand over your mouth to contain any more noises from you.

he wastes no time before beginning to pound into you, your hips slamming against the edge of the vanity with each thrust. you feel every vein against your walls and soon the initial pain turns into pleasure.

your boyfriend’s sloppy and brutal pace tells you just how fucking needy he’s been for the past few hours. sunghoons letting out a string of curses as he continues to abuse your cunt to chase the orgasm he’s been craving for so long.

“god. fuck- so fucking tight.” he groans out. “n-need it so bad.”

you’re biting your own hand to contain the noises that are desperately escaping your mouth, his pace making it impossible for you to stay silent. sunghoons bending over as he continues to fuck into you, gripping your throat as he leaves harsh bites on your shoulder— marks that’d be impossible to cover due to the thin and flimsy straps on your dress.

“shit—“ his movements stutter before hitting his peak, his warm cum filling up your insides but he doesn’t dare stop.

he continues to desperately thrust into you, overstimulating himself because he’s still so stupidly hard. grunts and whimpers are leaving his mouth, muffled by your neck and hair— but his noises only bring you closer to your own peak.

“hoon..! c-cumming, please.” 

even after you cream around his cock, his movements don’t stop. his thrusts are sloppy and his cock is knocking against your cervix, fucking you hard and deep all because he needs to cum again.

sunghoon lets out a loud groan as he finds himself emptying himself once more inside of you. rocking his hips slowly to ride himself through his second intense orgasm, it was almost painful.

he slips out of you with a grunt, his cock still half hard but he decided right there that the both of you would be leaving the party early.

[gracieheartspedro]

For Cryin’ Out Loud

pairing: post-outbreak! joel miller x fem!reader

how to help the palestinians and what it means to write for the last of us characters

word count: 7.9k

description: living with joel is complicated, especially when you can’t sleep due to nightmares. when you find yourself in his bed, you can’t help yourself. but joel sure can. give him a day to mull it over.

warnings: pretty slow burn, kinda forced proximity, kinda angsty, unspecified age gap (don’t like it, don’t read it), joel gives you tons of nicknames (darlin’, kiddo, etc.), discussions of nightmares and possible mental illnesses, some fluff, reader isn’t really described, joel is kinda a gaslighter, he’s also a bit pervy, unprotected p in v (wrap it y’all), oral (f! receiving), dirty talk, joel like worships you!!!!!, joel licks his fingers clean, giving genitalia pronouns, joel’s a big boy. think that’s it. lemme know what I missed!

author’s note: I really enjoyed writing this. the idea is pretty simple but I love domestic jackson!joel. I promise i’ll try to switch it up soon and write something that isn’t jackson!era lol. support your fav fics by reblogging and commenting!! thanks love ya <3

For some reason, you always find yourself standing at the threshold of the front door when you cannot sleep. 

The air was especially brisk tonight. You wrapped yourself in a gray chunky sweater you found in the lost and found in Jackson’s thrift store, hoping to regain some warmth. Your bed may have been comfortable, but it was the place where nightmares usually plagued you. 

It was too late to be awake, and you knew that if you were caught, you would hear it from Joel. He always reprimanded you. Every time he caught you up late, it was like your father woke up and found your hand in the cookie jar. 

The dynamic between you two had changed since arriving in Jackson, and you almost resented him for it. When it was just you, him, and Ellie, you were managing a family unit. Joel was always the protective father, you being the mom or the voice of reason, and Ellie being chaos. 

When Ellie and Joel’s relationship shifted, he took on a fatherly role for you. It bothered you. A lot. 

In a moment of contemplation, you hear footsteps coming down the steps behind you. 

He’s wearing flannel pajama pants and no shirt, his hairy tummy something you did not see often. 

“What are you doing awake?” He questions, his voice groggy with a twinge of annoyance. 

You do not feel like explaining yourself, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to get out of this situation without a justification. 

You huff, leaning your back against the door frame so you can get a full look at the broad man. “Can’t sleep. Thought staring into the darkness would help.”

He grunts, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “How’s that workin’ for you, sweetheart?”

You could not close your eyes without the haunting dreams that seemed lively and so real. Every night, you had the same recurring ones. You were being chased, hunted, or murdered. Or all of the above. You would wake in a cold sweat, not wanting to shut your eyelids ever again. 

“Hm,” You say, staring back outside for a brief moment, “‘Was better when you weren’t looking over my shoulder.”

He chuckles, “Get back to bed.”

“I can’t, Joel.”

“You can and will. You’re no good when you’re tired.”

“If I close my eyes, Joel, I will just have the same goddamn nightmares I have every night. And I will end up doing what I’m doing now, which is trying to get some fresh air to forget them.”

“You’re not gonna forget ‘em with some fresh air. You just need to… get over them.”

The breeze picks up as soon as he says it, almost like the world knew the tension would have to be broken with some frigid air. You retort with, “And how do you get over yours?”

"I just accept them," he says, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "I don't have time to dwell on them. There's always more important things to worry about."

"I'm more tired in the morning when I just endure them." You explain, trying not to cry about it. But you are so sick of them. The same thing every night.

“I get it. One day they will subside, I’m sure of it. But for now, you gotta-”

You just want him to shut up. At the same time, your mind is trying to remember the last time you did not have a nightmare. The memory makes your stomach churn. “You remember that one time we were forced to share that sleeping bag? Back in Pittsburgh?”

“Yeah,” His tone was wary, “What about it?”

"That was the first night I didn't have it." You explain, your voice a bit shaking at the insinuation. You don’t want to face the fact that Joel, the man that you have known for going on 10 years, kept your nightmares at bay. The same man who continuously rejected you and told you that he was old enough to be your dad. The same man that told you no, I don’t like you like that. I never will. That Joel. 

“And? Why are you bringing this up now?”

"Because every night I go to my bed and I'm forced to face them alone. When you were there... they didn't even bother holding my mind hostage.”

He took another step closer, closing some of the distance between you two. He towers over you and you can’t help but stare up at him in awe. Joel has always been a complicated part of your life. You consider him your sexual awakening, honestly, but he will never ever know that. Over the years, he’s only gotten more handsome. 

But now, he has a curious expression written all over his face.

"Are you saying you want to share a bed with me?" he asks, his voice gruff and low.

You suck in a deep breath, not wanting to answer. You knew that was stepping over a boundary for Joel. He liked his space. He didn’t like you impeding on that space, especially. Your bedroom was the furthest away from his for a reason.

"I don't know." You manage to say.

Joel's gaze darkened, his expression was completely unreadable. You wish you could read his mind, but you should be grateful you can not. 

Because in Joel’s mind, he’s trying to formulate a way to convince you to stay away from him altogether. The wall he has built over the last decade was intentional. He did not want to hurt you any further. He already knew you had feelings for him, but he was an old man. He did not want to drag you into his mess, all the baggage he carried. He looked after you, he shared a home with you, and that’s it. Strictly platonic. 

He shifted on his feet a little, unable to tear his eyes away from you. You shook like a little leaf.

"You don't know?" he repeated, his voice a low rumble.

You nod, "I don't know if I want that."

You do want that. But you want more, too. You knew you would be playing with fire. You would just be disappointed. 

Joel’s temptations are buried deep but they still fester every now and again. Some days he would catch a glance at you getting dressed in the crack of your door and have to take a cold shower. As soon as he felt those emotions bubble in his chest, he would try to distract himself. Maybe he would take a longer patrol. Maybe he would go to the Tipsy Bison and try to find a woman to take home. That one never really worked. 

“Well, what do you want then? Because standin’ at the door and letting all the cold air in ain’t gonna work for me or you.”

You look down at your picked-over fingernails and contemplate your next sentence. You don't want to be heartbroken in the morning when you wake up and he's there sleeping peacefully next to you and you're not... his.

"I want to sleep with you."

Joel was not expecting such a blunt response from you, but he appreciated you not beating around the bush about it. He gestures for you to step out of the doorway so he can shut the door, which you do. 

He looked down at you, his eyes raking over your face, taking in the exhaustion and uncertainty. 

"You sure?" he asked, his voice a gruff whisper.

You just nod as he locks the front door. You couldn’t believe you were doing this. 

Joel couldn’t believe it either. Maybe it was the tiredness or the instincts he felt to protect you, but he was not mad at the idea of sharing his bed with you. 

You signal for him to go upstairs, “You lead the way.”

-

Joel’s room was always off-limits to you. So when you step into his small little world, you take it all in. 

The artwork around the room was mainly nature landscapes. He had a big dresser right at the room's entrance with picture frames of Sarah, Ellie, and other family members. You were even included in one photo—a picture of you and him on some horses from last year. 

A shirt littered one side of the bed, so you took that as it was probably his side. Unfortunately for you, it was the right side. You felt a pang of guilt realizing you would probably end up restlessly lying in Joel’s bed if you were stuck on the left. 

Before he can pull back the blanket for himself, you stop him. 

“Uh, can I sleep on that side?”

He completely halts in his motions, turning his head towards you with a blank expression. “My side? Why?”

You lick your lips, already regretting this whole thing. 

“Because I have had this superstition since I was a kid that I could only sleep on the right side of the bed."

Joel wants to laugh, but he doesn’t. He can tell you are at war in your head about the question, your expression practically anticipating his rejection. 

"Superstitions, huh?" he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips."You and your weird beliefs."

You watch as he crosses to the other side of the bed and lifts the blanket. Is he actually letting you have his side? Maybe he doesn’t hate you. 

“You could also call it a compulsion, but superstitions seem more fun and less like a mental illness.”

He laughs this time, his deep chuckle making you feel a bit more relaxed about the situation. You did not feel like a burden as much. You walk to the right side and pull back his navy blue sheets and blanket. The spot looks warm and inviting so when you crawl in next to Joel, you start to realize that you’re back in the same situation you were in years ago in that sleeping bag. He was so close and warm and you wanted nothing more but for him to hold you and keep you comfortable.

But then another thing came to mind before you could imagine his arms around you. 

You usually sleep on your right side or back, but now you don't know what to do because you didn't know how Joel slept.

"Do you sleep on your side or back?"

Joel studies you as you fidget beside him, your uncertainty causing him to smirk slightly. It was almost endearing, seeing you be completely out of control of your surroundings. He remembers back when you were traveling with him you had an obsessive need to straighten up everything before you fell asleep. You had to roll yourself up in your sleeping bag the same way every night. 

"Usually on my back," he said finally. "But I can sleep on my side, too."

You swallow, trying to picture yourself sleeping. For some reason you felt the urge to have control of the situation, dictating exactly how he has to sleep, too. "Can I... I'll sleep on my side if you can sleep on your back? Is that okay?"

Joel had to suppress a smirk at your request. You knew he was trying to hold back a snarky remark. Instead, he surprises you.

"Sure, you can sleep on your side," he agreed, shifting his body weight onto his back, "’n I'll sleep on my back. No big deal."

You turn to face him, tucking the pillow further under your head. You can tell his eyes are heavy from exhaustion. You know it's time to shut up, to go to sleep, but you feel the need to say something else to him. Sometimes your brain concocts questions and statements and you know you shouldn’t say them, but your mouth betrays you.  

"When was the last time you had a girl in your bed?"

Why the fuck would you ask that? You think to yourself. It fell out of your mouth like drool.

Joel's eyes widened at your blunt question, surprise and a hint of embarrassment coloring his expression. You knew he was probably just expecting you to lay here next to him, maybe roll around a bit, then sleep. But instead, it’s an interrogation.

He took a deep breath, his mind rattling around as he tried to think of a response. He didn't want to admit what his genuine answer was to you, but he too could not help himself.

"Why do you want to know that?" he asks, his voice steely.

You hate that he even responded because now you needed to defend yourself.

"I uh, don't know. I don't know why it matters."

Joel chuckled softly, noting that you probably just had a case of word vomit. You always told him you were infamous for putting your foot in your mouth, especially in awkward situations.

"Curiosity got the better of you, huh?" he asks, rubbing his face with his hands. “You just can’t help yourself, sweetheart.”

He shifted slightly, rolling onto his side to face you, his gaze studying your expression.

You smirk, grateful that he's letting it slide. When he turns onto his side and he's at eye level with you, your face drops a bit. He is ruining the vision in your head. He’s throwing a wrench in your plans.

"You're supposed to be on your back, sir."

Joel couldn't help but chuckle softly at your comment. He knew he was supposed to be on his back, but the new angle allowed him to see you better in the faint moonlight.

"Don't worry," he said, a hint of humor in his voice. "I'll turn back over in a minute. Just... enjoying the view for a bit."

You roll your eyes, lifting your hands from under the covers and lightly hitting his arm. You knew he was just fucking with you now. 

"Okay, for that, I want to know the answer to my stupid question."

Joel let out a low laugh, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. He shook his head, amused by your persistence. You start to think about it and you have never really seen him bring anyone home. Maybe it had been a very long time and he was embarrassed. 

"Alright, alright," he said, a hint of resignation in his voice. "Last time I had a girl in my bed..."

He paused for a moment, his eyes dropping to the covers, his mind racing to find the right words.

"Go on..."

Joel took another deep breath, his voice dropping even lower as he spoke.

"It's been a long time, kiddo," he admitted, his voice pierced with a bit of shame. "Almost ten years, if I'm being honest."

Your eyes widen in surprise. "No way... You've never just... got it on with someone in bed?"

Joel's face flushed with embarrassment at your blunt question, a mix of shock and slight irritation flashing across his eyes.

"Jesus, you really don't hold back, do ya?" he muttered. He shifts a bit, trying to get comfortable in a different way. He hadn't expected the conversation to turn so personal, so quickly and he did not want to face you anymore. He was mortified. 

You mentally slap yourself in the face.

"I'm sorry, I am just tired and delusional. Uh, you don't have to answer that."

Joel could practically feel the humiliation radiating off you and he too felt the exact same way. You knew how to add to an already awkward situation.

"No, no, it's fine," he reassured you, his voice a bit gentler now. "I get it. You're tired, and your filter has taken a backseat."

"Yeah, exactly..."

He shifted on the bed, turning onto his back again, his gaze shifting to the ceiling, avoiding your curious stare.

You could not help but stare at his side profile. A prominent straight nose. His downturned lips are surrounded by some fine lines that show his age. He was a beautiful man now, but you can’t help but imagine him back in his 20s. He had to have been a hit with the ladies back then.

Joel could feel your gaze on him, studying his face. And while you were not scrutinizing him, he felt like a commodity in a museum or something.  He forced himself to keep his gaze on the ceiling, refusing to meet your eyes.

"So… ten years and no sex?”

You could seriously, not help yourself.

"Correct.” He grumbles, still not meeting your stare.

"Damn, Joel." You mutter, adjusting a bit to sit up a little more on your pillow. "I seriously thought you were sleeping around the whole time we have been in Jackson.”

He finally turns your way, a bit of offense on his face. “Why would you think that?”

You shrug, not wanting to insult him. But that’s how you formulated your grudge towards him. It was easy to just chalk everything up to problems with random women you have seen around town. 

“You just give off the energy…”

“What?”

You huff, laying back on the pillow. “I don’t know, Joel! I feel like when I’m around you all the ladies think you’re handsome. They stare.”

“They are staring because you’re always following me around and we aren’t married or… together. They think we are odd.” 

You had never heard such things around Jackson, but it does sort of make sense. Everyone was probably just confused because you two lived together but were not a couple. You can admit it is bizarre, but it just did not feel like an option any other way, in your mind. So Tommy gave you two a bigger house and you set up separate rooms. 

But in actuality, Joel secretly told Tommy that he did not want you too far from him. So when Tommy couldn’t give you any other houses nearby, Joel just told him that you two would be roommates.

“Well fuck ‘em.” You mutter, trying not to sound too offended by the thought of people gossiping about you two.

Joel just nods. You settle by tucking your arm under your pillow. You yawn, the exhaustion now taking over your body. You watch Joel grab a pair of reading glasses from the side table and a book. You decide not to bother him, especially because he probably wanted to just read himself to sleep instead of being interrogated by you any further.

You close your eyes and eventually fall asleep. The deeper you get, Joel notices how your breathing pattern changes. When he’s finally ready to get some shut-eye as well, he watches as your body crawls closer to him. Your arm swings over his stomach and rests on his forearm. He is so shocked he does not move a muscle. 

You adjust some more, not knowing what you are doing. Your leg creeps up and tucks right between his. You snuggle your face right into his chest. The only movement Joel decides to make is slinging his arm over your shoulders to pull you in tighter. 

It’s the first time in years that you two slept soundly, with no interruptions. No nightmares, no sudden intrusions, nothing. Silence and snores fill the room and that’s it.

-

When you wake up, it’s slow and gradual. Your brain hardly computes that you’re laying on top of Joel’s shirtless frame, until your hand runs across his warm tummy. 

You crook your neck up, looking at the handsome man you are spreading across. 

His lips are slightly ajar, letting out hardly-there snores. They are so pretty and pink and you cannot help but touch them with feather-like fingertips. You would feel so guilty waking him up-

His eyes slowly open taking notice of your actions even though you tried not to stir him. Your eyes fly open in shock, but he does not seem very annoyed. He smiles. 

“Mornin’ darlin’,” He says in a deep sleep-laced voice. You smile back at him, loving that he decided to call you the nickname you always got giddy over. You press your fingers into his chest before replying.

“I didn’t have a nightmare.”

His hand comes up from your shoulders and tucks some hair behind your ear as he stares down at you, “That’s good kiddo. I’m glad you slept well.”

The intimacy is almost too much. The way this is how it would be if you woke up to Joel every morning. It sends your brain into overdrive and you force yourself to ruin it a bit.

“Woulda slept even better if you didn’t talk so much in your sleep.”

Joel froze for a moment, his cheeks immediately flushing pink with embarrassment. He sits up a bit more, adjusting to the brighter lighting in his room. He knew he had a problem with talking in his sleep. Ellie used to talk about it all the time. He dreaded hearing what he was saying while curled up next to you.

"Uh... what did I say?" he asked, trying to maintain his composure.

"Something about it felt so good to be pressed up against someone, I don't know..." 

You could not help yourself and started to laugh. You knew you were going to get a rise out of him. 

Joel's face flushed an even deeper shade of pink as you started to laugh, clearly amused by your joke. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, his mind racing as he tried to come up with an excuse. He was just dreaming, it was not about you. 

"W-what?" he spluttered out instead of making an excuse. "I didn't... I didn't say anything like that."

You have a shit-eating grin on your face and you press your hands on his chest to prop yourself up. You enjoyed watching him squirm.

Joel's eyes flickered down to your hands on his chest. He sickly thought they felt so right placed there. He imagined what you would look like fully mounting him. 

He tried to keep his expression neutral, but you could see through his stone-cold exterior.

"You're messing with me, aren't you?" he grumbled, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

"Fully fuckin' with you." You giggle, hoping he is not really that mad at you. 

“You’re a brat.”

You move your foot slightly, running it up his leg. It sends shockwaves up his body, having you so close and moving around so seamlessly. 

"No, you said something about how beautiful, alluring, and incredible I am. Said I was the girl of your dreams…"

"Yeah, right," he said, a hint of playful sarcasm in his voice. "You expect me to believe that?"

"So, you don't believe me?"

"No, I don't believe you," he says, his voice stern but playful. "I think you're a dirty little liar, trying to play me for a fool."

"A dirty little liar, huh? Well, it's good to know that you don't think I'm beautiful, alluring, and incredible." You giggle at his acknowledgment, knowing he caught you red-handed.

"Oh, I never said that," he smirked, a hint of teasing in his voice. "You are all of those things, darlin’. But you're also a dirty little liar who likes to play games."

"So you think I'm beautiful?" You crack, the biggest smile painted on your face. You don’t even care that he’s calling you a liar because it does not matter. Joel thinks you are beautiful. 

“‘Course I do.”

You push yourself up onto your butt, sitting crisscross next to him. He secretly wishes you were still curled up on top of him. 

“You always this nice in the morning?” You ponder, your fingertips starting to toy with the hair on his stomach. He tries not to pay mind to it, letting you have full access to touch him. 

But it’s driving him insane. The way you look freshly woken up, completely enamored with the idea of him calling you beautiful. You have some puffiness under your eyes and your lips are more swollen than usual.

“I am always nice to you.”

You let out a scoff, “No, you’re not.”

He notices the shift in your tone and starts to get defensive, “Now you’re just lyin’.” 

Joel always loved to gaslight you in these situations. You knew better than to let him get away with it, especially now. “No there was that one time you told me you did not like me and that you would never like me. How you are old enough to be my dad-”

“Because I am!”

And there’s the wall. The only constant in you two’s relationship. He was so good at throwing it up when feelings were being expressed. When vulnerability was presented, Joel could not help but reject it. 

“And the world’s fuckin’ ended, Joel! Big deal!” You almost yell, moving your hands from him. 

Why does he already miss your hands?

He huffs, crossing his arms over his soft chest. “We have had this conversation for the last 10 years.’M not sure why we keep rehashing it.”

“And every time you turn me down it’s another fuckin’ stab in the heart.”

“You know why we can’t,” He practically growls. You can not stand to even look at him anymore with your bitterness and irritation taking over. 

“Whatever, Joel.” 

As soon as you say it, you’re already leaving his room and heading to your own. When you slam the door, you hope you have made your point. You want to scream and punch a hole in the wall, but instead you just furiously stomp around the room and grab your clothes. You had patrol at noon, so you needed to get to the mess hall before breakfast was over. You try not to cry as you strip down and get dressed.

Joel sits in bed, reeling. He hates that it has become a conversation every six months. He hated that rejecting you always sent you into a spiral of hating him for extended periods. It’s not that he did not want you, it was simply just not in the cards. He was too old to be in love. He was too old to play house with you. He just could not submit to the idea of leading you on, especially because you had so much more life to live. 

He finally works up the courage to get out of bed and put on some clothes. He opts for putting on his typical jeans and thick flannel. It was getting colder and he knew by the end of the winter, you would end up with half his flannels anyway, so he had to enjoy them while he had them. 

You storm downstairs, going to the back door for your boots when you spot him in the kitchen. 

“You got pat-”

“Yes.” You respond quickly, shoving your foot into your shoes. He stands behind you with a mug full of tea, watching your every move. 

“Who are you-”

“Jesse.”

He was asking his usual questions, which you were not in the mood to answer. 

“Hey, can you-”

You snap your head back at him, giving him the glare you gave him as a warning usually. By now, he takes it as a hint and backs off. But not this time. 

“Can I what?”

He rolls his eyes, “Can you fuckin’ not be a brat about this?”

You wish your glare came with knives. If that were the case, Joel Miller would be dead on his kitchen floor. 

You are so thrown off by the question that you just watch him get angrier when you do not respond. 

“Are you serious, right now?” You press, keeping your voice from cracking. 

He brings the mug up to his mouth, taking an obnoxious sip. When he pulls the mug away, you notice how steaming it is. “You always pull this shit-”

“No, you do! You do this shit to me every fuckin’ time, Joel. You sweet talk me, make me feel comfortable, have me lapping everything up in the palm of your hands, and then you snatch it away. Then have the audacity to get mad at me!”

You are yelling now and it is throwing him off. Joel knows better than to interrupt you like you do to him. You were the kind of person who would calm down if you felt heard. 

The way he knew you down to your core made this all so painful. Because if he was not so stubborn and true to his convictions, he would have fucked you the moment you touched his lips this morning. 

“I ain’t tryin’ to make this harder than-” “Too fuckin’ late.”

You think back to the moment last night when you knew you were going to hurt your own feelings by sleeping with him. You knew better, yet here you are, still blaming him for your stupidity.

He stands there, still holding his mug, staring you down like a wounded doe who got pierced with an arrow. He feels guilty like he misled you. Before he can say anything, you are lacing up your boots and leaving out the front door without another word. 

-

All day long, Joel wanders around the house trying to get rid of the pit in his stomach. Nothing works. A shower. Reading a book. Cutting wood. As soon as he tried to use laundry as a distraction, he reached into his hamper and found one of your t-shirts. He held it close and smelled it, trying to wrap his head around how he got here. 

You spend all day, silently fuming on horseback with Jesse. When he tries to get you to open up, you ice him out and tell him to focus on the trail in front of him. 

You get back by sundown, the sun setting making it a lot chiller than you expected. You decide to take the long way home, wanting to avoid being home for as long as possible. You were not ready to face Joel, let alone share a space with him. But unfortunately, during your patrol, you fell into some mud and needed a shower. The more time it spent on your clothes and body, the grosser you felt. 

You open the front door, announcing that you are home. It was a habit you and Joel developed after you both pulled guns on each other during late-night arrivals. 

You hear Joel mumble something from the living room, but you do not stop to listen and continue on your way upstairs to the bathroom. 

You strip down as soon as the door is closed, tossing your muddy clothing into a hamper in the corner. You would get them washed and hung as soon as you shower off. 

You hear Joel’s footsteps creaking around the upstairs hallway as you scrub your body with homemade soap and warm water. 

When you start to dry yourself off, you hear Joel grunting something in the hallway. You wrap yourself in a towel and peek your head out the door. He’s on his hands and knees wiping something off the hardwood. “What’s goin’ on?”

He looks up at you, your body only covered in a bleach-stained blue towel. It makes his head spin. He can’t even be mad that you tracked in mud. 

He swallows, gripping the cloth he’s using tighter. “You got mud everywhere.”

You step out, not even really thinking about the fact that you are not properly dressed in front of Joel. You were still mad at him, anyway. Who cares what he thinks?

“Sorry, I could’ve cleaned it up.”

He returns to wiping the wood, “It’s fine, I got it, kiddo.”

You accept his response and move on to your room, but the draft you leave behind drifts to Joel’s nostrils. Your soap smells like lavender and it always sends his mind racing when you are fresh from a shower. He clears his throat, trying to get through the emotions filling his chest. 

But it’s been like this all day. You’re all around him even when you’re not physically here. How can he get away from you? Why is he trying to run in the first place?

He’s on his knees in your hallway, cleaning up your mess, sniffing the air you leave behind because he’s fucking in love with you and he cannot help himself anymore. 

Joel starts to think about how peaceful he felt having you next to him last night and how he would love to feel that way every night. For once he’s not thinking about what everyone else would think. For once he’s thinking selfishly and caving into every desire he has ever pondered about you. How would you feel under him? How would your lips feel pressed against his pulse point? 

His body was on fire, thinking about you. 

You are fiddling with some clothes in your dresser after you flick on the overhead light. You do not hear him come into your room behind you. 

You are so wrapped up in your own thoughts that when he clears his throat to announce he’s in your room, you scream. Loud. 

“For cryin’ out loud, woman!” 

You grip your towel tighter when you turn and see him standing at your mercy. 

“Joel, what the fuck?” You yell, gesturing to the fact that you are practically naked. He does not care, of course, and his ears are ringing from your piercing scream. He gathers himself as you shift back, trying to create some distance from him.

He is trying not to gawk at the fact that your grip on the towel against your chest is only pushing up your cleavage. He’s biting back everything. “Can we talk?”

“Talk about what? The fact you crept into my room when I was trying to change? Are we past boundaries now?” 

You are pissed, trying not to rattle off another million things to discuss with him. He’s only really talking about one thing. 

He scoffs at your last statement. “Boundaries were already out the window when you crawled into bed with me last night.”

Silence fills the room as you completely stop breathing. The anger you originally felt dissipates. 

“Joel-“

“I ain’t doin’ this back and forth anymore,” He starts shifting in his spot, unsure if he really should be doing this. “I can’t live how I've been livin’. Somethin’s gotta give.”

You furrow your eyebrows, confused. 

“You are the one who won’t give, Joel.”

As soon as you say it, he practically drags himself over to you. Completely destitute. You have never seen him look so desperate before. You can tell that he’s been at war with himself ever since you left this morning. His eyes never lied.

His hand creeps up your bare arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake. 

But then you remember his words from this morning. You start feeling like this is just a moment of weakness for him and that he will regret it later. You had to stop it before it was too late. You did not want to deal with the consequences. 

“Joel, you said we can’t-”

“Fuck what I said,” He cuts you off, “Do you want this?”

You stare into those brown eyes, searching for a sign of hesitance. You cannot believe Joel is being this vulnerable with you. 

But, you do want him. God, you have wanted him so badly for so long. You have searched for him in every man you have ever been with since knowing him. 

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. He takes note of your parted lips, every word failing you at that moment.

“Darlin’-”

“Yes,” You finally manage. “Yes, I do want this.”

It’s all he needs. He closes the gap between you two by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his space. His lips crash onto yours, not wasting another breath of air waiting to indulge in his sickest fantasies. 

You are all Joel ever dreamed about. He knew that once he caved and physically gave in, his world would be shot and everything would revolve around you. For years it had been a teetering object on a cliff, one nudge would have him falling. He always managed. But now, he was falling head first. 

His lips move so perfectly with your own. Your hand released your towel and found the tufts of his curls at the base of his head. You did not care that the article pooled around your feet, leaving you completely bare in front of Joel. You have wanted this all along. To be uncovered, to be stripped down to the rawest form. He broke the kiss briefly just to scan your naked body, his forehead pressed against your own. 

“Fuck, you are so beautiful.”

Your heart stutters as his hand traces your stomach down to your hips, all the way down to your ass. He stops there, grabbing a handful. 

“I need you,” You choke out before pressing your lips to his over and over again. “Right now.”

He mumbles “jump” into your mouth and you do so, his hands working quickly to hike you up onto his waist. He carries you to your bed, wasting no time dropping you onto your back. 

He cannot get enough of your soft, swollen lips. Every time he pulls away slightly, he dives in again even more aggressively than the last time. 

You are so hypnotized by the way he feels on top of you. In the light, he seems so much broader than he was last night. He’s still fully clothed, to your dismay. You start to tug at his shirt, motioning him to remove the articles that are in your way. 

He throws off his shirt before he stands up at the edge of the bed and pushes down his jeans. 

“Joel… I-“

He just shuts you up with another passionate kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth like he’s trying to melt into your mouth. Your hands trail up his back, gripping onto his shoulders, holding him down so he is pressing against your nude body. 

“God, I have wanted this for so long,” He sputters, trying not to sound too desperate. “Been wanting this.”

That’s when his hand reaches down between your thighs and gathers the wetness your slit has to offer. His fingers dance across it, starting from the top all the way to your spongy entrance. 

“Please, Joel.”

He loves the lust-laced tone you speak with when you say his name. It almost makes him cum there and then. 

You watch as he makes his way down your body, peppering kisses from your shoulder to your hip. When he parts your legs, you feel quite exposed. The adrenaline of being so spread for him manifests into a moan. 

“You are divine, baby.”

The use of that adjective is so-not-Joel that it makes you giggle. He notes your reaction and decides to sink down into you. When his mouth gets close to your core, it’s no longer a laughing matter. 

He uses his fingers again, using them to spread open your pussy lips. He cannot keep his eyes away from how dripping you are. “This all for me?”

“Y-yes, Joel.”

“God, I was a fuckin’ fool for so long. Could’ve had her earlier and I never fuckin’ caved. Such an idiot.”

Him giving your cunt pronouns was enough to have you throwing your head back and shuttering. His touch was magnetic like he knew exactly what buttons to push as he rubbed his fingers and palm over your core. 

“Yeah, you’ve been missin’ out. Every night…” You swallow before looking down at the man that is enamored with your pussy, “E-every night I would lay in this bed, fuckin’ myself just thinkin’ about you.”

He growls at the statement, before teasingly kissing your clit. “Every night, hm, kiddo?”

“God, yes.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as he leans forward more and dives in. His nose is pressed firmly against the top of your pussy, nudging forward every time his tongue enters your hole. When that motion became consistent, you began to note the rumblings in the pit of your stomach. A familiar build-up that you managed to get when you were playing with yourself. 

His fingers move in tandem with his lips and tongue. While his middle and pointer finger slide in and out of you, his lips wrap around your clit. It’s overwhelming and all-consuming. 

You do not know where to center yourself, so your hands grip the bed sheets you were completely soaking as Joel pulls the first orgasm out of you. 

“That’s it, baby, she’s cryin’ for me, hm?”

You hardly make a noise, the orgasm is so earth-shattering that you just writhe on the mattress. 

“Oh my god…” You groan, finally able to catch your breath. When Joel removes his fingers from you, you watch as he slowly brings them up to his lips.

When he inserts them in his mouth, you gawk at him, unsure how to react. He watches your expression and chuckles darkly.

“Mm, never seen a man enjoy the taste of ya?”

You shake your head. “Never expected to hear those words leave your mouth, either.”

“Wait ‘til you hear what else I got to say.”

He stands up beside the bed, grabs your hips, and brings them to the edge. He is tossing you around with ease, bringing your lower body flush with his. He yanks down his briefs, revealing himself to you. You instantly take notice of how well-endowed he is. You never thought you would ever be close to his cock, let alone have it lining up at your entrance. 

“Joel…“ You stop him with your small voice, but still welcoming him in with your legs opened wide, “I don’t know if it will fit.”

He grins, “It will, baby. Just relax for me, okay?”

You watch him slide his member along your center, the feeling so blissfully overstimulating. You whine a bit, raising your hips to his. 

But Joel continues his torture, enjoying the way you’re squirming under him. The way your eyebrows are knitted together, your eyes shut as you grind up into him. It’s the prettiest sight. 

“Ready?”

Your eyes fly open as you watch him ease his way into your core, the sound of squelching filling the room. You don’t think you have ever been this wet for someone. 

“Oh my fuckin’ god, Joel…”

He smiles as he inches in, “Squeezin’ my cock so good, darlin’.”

When he’s fully sheathed inside, he tests the waters by drawing out slowly. You roll your hips in a circle, trying to feel out every inch of him. He fits, but you know once he starts to move faster, the stretch will become overwhelming. 

He’s trying to focus and not blow his load immediately. You look so beautiful below him, your tits slowly shifting back and forth every time he draws back and forth. He reaches out, wanting to feel the flesh between his fingers. God, he craved every inch of you, he realizes. 

You open your legs as far as you can, letting him hit you at a different angle. The movement allows him to slip in a bit more seamlessly, so when he speeds up his thrusts, you don’t feel like you will completely split in half. 

He brings your leg up to hips, and feeling your soft delicate skin against him makes him lose all sense. His hips snap faster the more you moan out for him. 

“Fuckin’ Christ, girl. I can’t believe I was missin’ out on this cunt,” He babbles, “Need this cunt every day from now on. Gonna have you all to myself every night.”

You are too fucked out of your mind to read into those implications.

“‘M all yours, Joel.”

He smiles, slowing down a bit. “Keep talkin’ like that and ‘ll finish a lot sooner than you.”

You sit up a bit, your eyes flickering over his entire body. He notices you checking out his nude frame, which makes him feel a bit more bold. He leans down, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. You love the way his tongue slips into your mouth so effortlessly. When he opens his mouth, his facial hair tickles your nose a bit which makes you smile. When his hips pick back up to a quicker pace, it sends you gasping into his mouth.

“Please, Joel,” You whine, that familiar build starts up but this time it’s like a freight train. Moving so quickly down every nerve ending in your body. “I’m gonna cum.”

“‘M with you, darlin’. Soak this dick. I’m right behind ya.”

His dirty talk causes the crash. Your body practically lifts off the mattress. You cry out so loud you are sure a neighbor could hear you. You try to gain your bearings, but you are panting like you just ran a mile. 

Joel fucks you through it, but the restriction your pussy is putting on his cock sends him over the edge. His hips stutter into yours, his seed emptying into your spent hole. He just keeps repeating your name as his thrusts slow down.

He has never had such a visceral orgasm in his life. His knees are weak and can hardly keep up his weight. He practically falls on top of you, which does not offend you at all. His warm sweaty body on top of you is almost reassuring. 

“You okay, kiddo?” He finally mutters as his hot breath fans the nape of your neck. You just nod, bringing your hand up to his salt and pepper hair. You tug lightly, smiling to yourself. 

“I’m more than okay.”

He finally sits up, his cock spilling out of you as he adjusts his position. Your hole drips a mixture of cum onto your newly clean sheets, but you could care less. It’s just another thing to hand wash tonight.

Joel stumbles to the middle of the room, picking up your bath towel. He uses it to wipe himself up before coming over to you. Your legs are still slightly apart so he decides to clean you up a bit. He’s gentle, knowing that you are probably still sensitive.

Once he finishes up, he crawls next to you as you continue to recover. Your bones felt like jello so standing up to adjust yourself was not an option.

So instead of facing him, you stare up at your ceiling fan as his eyes lock onto every detail of your profile. It brings him back to one night you two shared under the stars a couple of years ago. It was his turn to keep watch so you curled up in your sleeping bag by the fire. He admired you from across the flames, the orange hues lit up every angle of your face. It was at that moment that Joel realized that he could not picture his life without you. You had weaseled your way into every facet of his life and he used to resent the impact you had on him. You were younger, more patient but still stubborn like him. You made him laugh, like genuinely laugh, for the first time since the infection. While you may have been a bit impulsive with your emotions, he envied the way you could say exactly what you were thinking. 

Joel did not want to love you, but it was impossible not to. 

You finally look over at him, noticing the softness in his gaze.

“Are you okay?” You pose, scrunching your nose. 

He gives you a toothless smile, his eyes crinkling a bit. “I just can’t wait to sleep next to you for the rest of my life.”

tags of people I love and who may wanna read (no pressure I just love u) (some of u did ask tho) : @ashleyfilm @hockeyhughes @pedrospookie @guiltyasdave @amanitacowboy @myownwholewildworld

[bunny-jpeg]

bear den

bear!john price

cw: pwp/smut, hybrid!au, bunny!reader, bear!price, scenting, breeding, biting, headlock, doggy style, dirty talk, reverse cowgirl

bunny says and you'll never catch me alive!

edit: part two

to be with a bear was something interesting. especially one as much of a lover as price. oh price was just perfect all over. those blue eyes that made you feel protected and warm. that strong grip of his as he bullied his cock into you. he was a strong, with a bit of softness to him and hairy all over. he loved tugging on your little bunny ears while he slammed his cock into your sweet pussy.

the first time you met him. it was quite scary. the dead of winter deep within the woods you called home. you managed to get your way into the warmth of his cabin/den. but your mother told you to never enter the den of a bear. what you soon saw was the lumbering form of bear hybrid.

"what are you doin' here?" he grumbled. his voice heavy was sleep. he was in hibernation after all. but his cock was hard in his sweat pants. he yawned, "if you're gonna make yourself at home. it's gonna cost ya."

the curious bunny gave head to the hairy bear. a tale as old as time. but the notion of bunny cunt seemed to entice the bear and he grabbed you by the ears and dragged you back into his den. the smell of bear was a lot for you, the dominate scent even made you iron resolve crumble. the wetness in your worn panties.

'this'll do." he grumbled as he tossed you on the bed. he got you under the covers. tore off your meager clothes and fucked your bunny hole half asleep. you on the other hand were wide awake. the breath taken out of you. he got through two rounds before his sleepiness took over and he went back to sleep.

he kept you after that, he told you a little bunny like you needed to be protected. who knew what was out there, in the deep darkness of the forest. so you spent the following seasons with him.

you became his lover, he even planted a carrot garden for you when the snow melted. oh he loved his bunny. he loved to tug on your cotton tail or take you by the face to look at him while he had you pressed up against the side of the cabin and your back bent.

but when winter came, he made sure his bunny was taken care of while he was asleep. bunnies could hibernate if they felt safe enough, but you wouldn't be dead to the world if you did.

but in all fairness, the smell of bunny in his cabin didn't keep him asleep for long. you woke up in the morning, snow was pressed up against the window. but the sun shined in.

the smell of price in your bedroom was overwhelming. the room was small, but the big was large. but price's hairy body still made you feel small on the bed. so the smell of the bear hung heavy. the bed had every blanket, pillow, sweater, stuffed animals, anything else he could find to make his nest. the final piece was you. where he tucked you in and snuggled you until he eventually dozed off.

you had been asleep for over a day now, you looked over and saw him sound asleep. you reached for him and kissed him on the nose. his arm was heavy over you. you shifted in your spot and got out from under him.

but you couldn't get out of bed. as he grabbed you by the tail. "where ya goin', love.' he said with sleep heavy in his voice, "i didn't tell ya you could leave." then you were dragged back into bed with a 'hmfph'.

he snuggled you back into his arms, "you don't have my smell on ya." he grumbled as he rubbed his face up against your bare chest. there was no point in having clothes on while in the nest. you were under so many layers you were already warm enough.

"john!" you squeaked as his tongue came out and started to lick across your pulse, "it's only us in the entire area. plus it's only to the kitchen."

"no." he said, he ran his teeth across your pulse, "gotta smell like me." you made a noise as he, in tired trance, got you on your hands and knees. the weight of the blankets and his larger body kept you pinned to the soft mattress.

"john!" you whined, "c'mon!"

he grumbled something. his cock slid up and down your pussy as he tried to push it into you. you arched your back in anticipation. poor price, his head was full of sleepy cotton. he relied on instinct and right now it was directing him to breed his little nest mate.

you moaned, to have your face buried in the pillow. that reeked of your lover only made you wet between your legs. as if the leftover cum from your lover wasn't enough lube for his impressive size. he was big all over. so different from your tiny bunny self, no wondered he wanted to protect you.

and breed you.

your heart raced as he finally got his cock into you. he sank into your sweet cunt. he groaned as he leaned over you and put his arm around your neck and bent your back. his thrusts were sloppy, there was no rhyme or reason, only what felt good.

"you feel so good, love.' he grumbled, "always so perfect for me." his gaze was unfocused, his voice sleepy and slurred, "a good little bunny for me. with your cotton tail and those ears. my girl though, right? all mine? not gonna have ya run off with a coyote or somethin'. keep ya home, keep ya full." he gave you a lazy smile as our eyes met. he leaned in and licked across your cheek. his bear ears twitched at the taste of your soft skin against his rough tongue.

your core throbbed, the entire feeling. the coziness of your den that you shared with price left you feel soft and warm. you were comfortable and safe, so why not let price breed you? you were already so soft and warm, let your brain let it go and accept him.

he held you close to him, bent to his liking to have the best angle of your pussy. his broad paws were all over you, he held your throat and around your middle as he thrusted up into you.

"john." you whimpered, your focus was hazy and your thoughts dripped away like melted snow. the sun shined thought the window of your den, it bathed you in a bright glow.

"i know. i know." he purred, he blinked to get a little more awake, "so small. i could crush ya easily. poor little bunny got caught up with a big bad bear. now she sharin' a nest with him and letting him bully her sweet little cunny."

his words made your brain mushy.

the bed creaked under your love making, he still held you like a toy for his pleasure. he lazily made out with you as he moved you up and down his cock. he groaned, his lips close against yours, "my girl. my little bunny. i love the feeling of ya around me."

you made small noises and hearty pants as the movements continued. as he kept ramming against your sweet sex. you were a right fit for him. after all these months you still were so good for him.

he watched your focus come in and out. your tongue stuck a little out of your mouth. the little bunny had her brains fucked out, oh no! he let go of you. his hands on you as he maneuvered your once more and got you into a reverse cowgirl. the blankets were kicked to the bottom of the bed.

he was propped up against the headboard and kept you in his lap. his cock buried into your slick pussy. he held onto your hips and bounced you on his cock. he wished he could see your breasts bounce with every thrust, but to watch the sweat drip down your back.

your nest got heated, your scent bled a little bit into the air of the room. it was musky and comforting. to be fucked by a bear was something unlike anything you could describe. he just fit you so right.

"good girl."

"john."

"i know, i know." he groaned. the rush of pleasure raced through his body as it did yours. he felt the same euphoric of having his cock buried into his sweet mate. he made sure that his scent was all over you, he was certain it would stick this time.

you leaned forward and held onto the covers that were between his legs. he watched how your pussy swallowed up his cock with each movements of your hips. he licked his lips as he moved your faster.

he watched your cotton-tail twitch, it almost made him cum at that moment. he continued to move your hips, the rush of climax almost washed over him.

the two of you made love like animals in your nest that he had built for you. to protect you. his cock throbbed in your cunt and with a few more thrusts he finished inside of you.

"ah!" you whined as you arched your back. you came as well and clutched onto the sheets. your toes curled and you felt your heart racing.

price felt content as he smothered you in his pecs. they were softer and hairy. he had gotten a little thicker for the winter. you made a soft noise as you were buried in them.

"john."

"i know bunny, i got ya. now sh, time to go back to sleep." he purred as he grabbed the blankets with one hand but kept you to him with the other. he buried you back under the nest of blankets.

yeah, that sounded like a great idea. you weren't even too sure if you could walk if you got up. so with the glow of the morning sun peeking through your window, you fell back asleep with your face in your mate's chest.

-

it was spring now. but you and your bear mate have been slow to wake up for it. price still was in a tired mindset, constantly cuddled up to your partially swollen belly. you were only four months, but price still adored how you carried his cub.

he made a gruff noise and cuddled up with your middle further. his facial hair which had grown over hibernation brushed up against your exposed middle. such a cute little bunny and her adoring mate.

you ran your fingers through your hair as you heard the birds chirp outside and the sound of melting snow. next winter it would be you, price and your little cub all sharing a nest to sleep soundly through the winter <3

xoxo,

bunny

part two <3

[wqnsho]

second chance | hwang in-ho x fem! reader

*.✧ synopsis: hwang in-ho joined the games with one goal: to monitor and manipulate seong gi-hun. but everything changed the moment he saw his childhood friend among the players—a face he never expected to see again. *.✧ word count: 21.7k (are you even surprised) *.✧ warnings: squidgame season 2 spoilers, violence, death, choking, guns, explicit depictions of injuries, panic attacks (reader experiences one) usage korean words and suffixes, mentions of cho sang-woo, reader moved from in-ho's place to gi-hun's place (gyeonggi-do to ssangmun-dong), softie in-ho because its you, angst :D *.✧ note: I ACTUALLY THOUGHT CROSSROADS WILL BE THE LONGEST THING I WRITE, SURPRISE SURPRISE SECOND CHANCE IS HERE. hope you guys love it!! masterlist | request here

Your life wasn't supposed to go in this direction. 

Ever since you were small, people knew great things would come to you. You were talented and smart in every way, shape, or form. Teachers would gush about how bright your future was, and neighbors would brag to their kids about your achievements as if they were their own. So why were you here now, standing in a room surrounded by strangers for a chance of winning some money? 

Currently, all of you watched as the screen displayed various people getting slapped left and right. Announcing their player numbers, names, and how much money they owe. The sheer amount of debt displayed beside each name was staggering—hundreds of millions, even billions.

You shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the whispers around you. People were muttering under their breath, some recognizing names and faces, others lamenting their own debt in comparison. The tension in the room was suffocating, a shared humiliation that weighed heavy on everyone.

Player 132. [Last Name] [Name]. 562 million.

The words echoed in your ears like a slap to your face. Your own name, your own shame, displayed for everyone to see. A few heads turned toward you, but you refused to meet their eyes. You scratched the back of your head in shame, keeping your eyes on the ceiling as if you could avoid the weight of judgment all around you.

'Well... at least it wasn't from that stupid crypto bullshit,' you mumbled under your breath, though the bitter smile on your lips faded as quickly as it appeared. As the guard moved to another person, the crowd around you blurred into an indistinct mass of voices. You didn’t care to listen. You let yourself drown in your thoughts, tuning out the chaos.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Life was supposed to be a series of steady steps upward, not a freefall into the abyss. When your family moved from Gyeonggi-do to Ssangmun-dong, everything changed. 

Your father, once the pillar of the family, walked out one day without a backward glance. Which left you and your mother to fend for yourselves. He left for some woman he barely knew. Someone who didn’t have to deal with the mess he’d left behind. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, your mother decided she had better things to do than raise a child. 

One morning, you woke up to an empty house and a note on the dining table. The words were hurried, impersonal, as if she didn’t pushed you out and raised you. Worst of all, she didn’t even spell your name right!

The pain of abandonment never left you. It festered, growing into a heavyweight you carried everywhere. You tried to survive, piecing together odd jobs and small victories, but it was never enough. Debt piled up faster than you could manage, dragging you into this nightmare.

The first game was announced— Red Light, Green Light. 

You had doubts. The game seemed too simple, almost childish, like something even teens could survive without breaking a sweat—just a game, right? But as soon as the first shot rang out, you realized how wrong you were. Bodies fell like dominoes, blood staining the grass in vivid red. The sound of death was deafening, and the reality of it hit you like a punch to the gut. You froze, your breath caught in your throat, as the world around you erupted into chaos. People screamed, some running, others collapsing in terror. You couldn’t move. The simplicity of the game suddenly made sense—it wasn’t without cost.

Death was suddenly real, closer than it had ever been before. Your entire life flashed before your eyes—every mistake, every regret, every moment you had taken for granted. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. Not here, not now.

Luckily, a player stepped up and took charge. Player 456. He was calm and collected, advising everyone to hide behind the larger players, claiming that the robot wouldn’t be able to see you if you stayed out of its line of sight. His plan was simple yet effective, and with his guidance, you managed to survive the round.

As you returned to the main area, the tension from the first game clung to the air like a thick fog. Every breath felt heavy, and the adrenaline that had pushed you through the chaos now left your limbs trembling. Despite it all, a deep sense of gratitude toward him lingered in your chest. You wanted to stay close, to follow his lead. There was security in his presence, a grounding force that kept the worst of your fears at bay.

Suddenly, the sound of heavy boots echoed through the room. Guards entered in perfect formation, their masks as eerie as the silence that fell over the crowd. The sight of them sent a shiver down your spine. One by one, people began to plead for their lives, collapsing to their knees, their voices breaking with desperation as tears streamed down their faces.

“There must be a misunderstanding,” the main guard, marked by a square on his mask, said in a monotone voice. “We are not trying to harm you. We are presenting you with an opportunity.”

Before he could continue, the same player who had spoken during the first game—Player 456—interrupted with a sharp shout.

“Clause three of the consent form!” The room froze, all eyes, including yours, turning to him.

His words were sharp, filled with a sense of urgency and strength “The games may be terminated upon a majority vote. Correct?” he demanded, his voice firm.

“That is correct,” the guard replied, his tone unwavering, as though the question had been anticipated.

“Then let us take a vote right now,” Player 456 said, his words igniting a spark of hope in the crowd. It was as if a door to freedom had cracked open, and everyone could almost taste the possibility of escape.

“Of course. We respect your right to freedom of choice.”

A collective sigh of relief spread through the crowd, a fleeting moment where fear was momentarily pushed aside by a glimmer of hope. For the first time, you felt something that resembled a shift in the balance of power. They weren’t in control—at least, not entirely.

“But first,” the guard continued, “let me announce the prize amount that has been accumulated.” He pressed a button on his device, and the room suddenly dimmed.

A low hum filled the air, followed by the descending of a massive glass piggy bank from the ceiling. It gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights, casting eerie reflections across the players’ faces. The sound of wads of cash clinking together echoed through the room, loud and clear, like the jarring noise of a twisted casino jackpot.

The players stared, wide-eyed, as the money poured into the glass bank. It was hypnotic—the sound, the sight, the overwhelming promise of wealth. Some players instinctively stepped forward, as if drawn by an invisible force, while others lingered at the back, still fearful but unable to resist the allure of the prize.

“The number of players eliminated in the first game is 91,” the guard announced, his voice as flat and emotionless as ever. “Therefore, a total of 9.1 billion won has been accumulated. If you quit the games now, the remaining 365 of you can equally divide this amount and leave.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, and Player 100, who was standing near you, called out, his voice filled with disbelief. “How much is that?”

“Each person’s share would be 24,931,500 won,” the guard replied without hesitation.

The words hung in the air, heavy and cold, as a wave of murmurs spread across the room. There was a mix of disbelief, anger, and confusion.

“Twenty-four million? We almost died for that?” Player 124 scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. You couldn’t help but feel the sting of it too. Twenty-four million wasn’t nearly enough to make up for the terror, the near-death experience, the trauma of the first game. Yet, at the same time, the number was hard to ignore. It was money. A lot of it. Enough to make you forget the panic, at least for a while.

“You said the prize was 45.6 billion!” Player 230 shouted, his voice rising with frustration.

The guard’s response was calm, almost detached. “The rule states that 100 million won is added for each eliminated player. If you choose to play the next game, and more players are eliminated, the prize amount will increase accordingly.”

There was a brief silence as everyone processed the implications of this. The numbers didn’t seem to add up at first. But as the calculation sank in, the possibility of even more money stirred the crowd.

“How much will it be if someone survives until the very end?” someone asked, their voice trembling with hope.

The guard, unbothered by the growing tension, simply stated, “As I already told you, the total amount of prize money for all 456 players is 45.6 billion won. If you are the sole survivor, you will receive the full amount.”

The room erupted into a chorus of gasps, whispers, and shouts. Some players looked at each other, their expressions shifting as greed began to seep into their eyes. Others remained still, haunted by the terror of the first game. The promise of so much money was a heady temptation, but it came at the price of their lives.

“So, we can take a vote again and decide to leave after the next game?” someone asked, their voice tinged with hope, as if the very idea of escape was now within reach.

“Yes,” the guard confirmed. “As outlined in the consent form, you may vote after each game and decide whether to leave with the prize money accumulated up to that point. We always prioritize your voluntary actions.”

You stood there, torn. The terror you’d felt during the first game still clung to you, wrapping around your chest. But the temptation of the prize money—of being free from the crushing debt that had haunted you for so long—was overwhelming. This could be your only chance to escape. A chance to climb out of the pit you’d been stuck in, buried under mountains of bills and threats. If you walked away now, you’d return to the same miserable existence, drowning in debt, with no way out in sight.

Your mind raced. You had fought so hard just to survive, and now, standing in this room, you were faced with a decision that could change everything. The terror from the first game still gripped your chest, but the lure of the money was almost impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just about survival—it was the chance to escape the suffocating weight of your debt, the years spent trying to climb out of a hole you’d fallen into.

The voting started with Player 456. You watched as he cast his vote, the air thick with tension. The red light from the voting machine flickered for a brief moment as he pressed his choice, a clear "X." One by one, others followed, some hesitating, while others quickly made their decision. The chaos of it all felt overwhelming. You couldn’t help but wonder if they had already made up their minds, whether they were giving in to the temptation of the money or if they were too afraid to continue.

When your number was called, your legs felt like lead as you approached the voting machine. Each step was agonizingly slow, the weight of your decision pressing down on you. The room seemed to shrink, and you could feel every eye on you, even as you tried to ignore them.

Your hand trembled as you reached for the button. The thought of pressing it, of choosing to continue, made your stomach twist in knots. For just a moment, you hesitated, feeling the weight of your decision crushing you from all sides.

Then, with a deep breath, you pressed the circle.

The blue light illuminated your face, a cold reminder of the choice you’d just made. A guard stepped forward, handing you a blue patch marked with the same symbol as your vote. You accepted it with shaky hands, bowing slightly before pinning it to your jacket. As you returned to your spot in line, your heart pounded in your chest.

God, why did it come to this? What could have gone so wrong? Had you done something to upset the gods? Or were you simply born unlucky, destined to live a life riddled with hardships?

You couldn’t stop questioning yourself—your decisions, your choices, the countless crossroads where you might’ve taken a different turn. You missed the early moments in your life when everything felt so simple, so light. Back then, there were no looming debts, no sleepless nights spent worrying about survival, no constant weight pressing down on your shoulders.

You had it all once—a lovely family with successful parents who made sure money was never an issue. You had good grades, a tight-knit circle of friends, and a future that seemed full of promise. You were happy, truly happy.

And you weren’t always alone. Aside from your parents and friends, there was someone else—someone who had been a constant in your life, a steady presence you could always count on. He wasn’t just a friend; he was the friend. The one who stood by you no matter what, even when the world seemed to turn its back on you.

When the bullies in school targeted you for reasons you never understood, he was the one who stepped in without hesitation. You still remembered the way he’d square his shoulders, his voice firm and unwavering as he told them to back off. He never cared if he got in trouble for standing up for you; all that mattered to him was that you were safe.

He wasn’t just your protector, though. He was the person who could make you laugh when you were seconds away from tears. He had this knack for knowing exactly what to say or do to lighten your mood, whether it was pulling a silly face, cracking a joke, or nudging you with that mischievous grin that always made you roll your eyes but secretly smile.

He was the one who stayed up late with you when you were cramming for exams, even though he wasn’t the most studious person himself. He’d throw pencils at you when you started to drift off, only to shove snacks in your face the next moment and tell you to take a break. He had this way of making even the most mundane moments feel special, as if just being around him made everything a little brighter.

And as much as you tried to deny it back then, he had become your everything. Your safe haven, the person you trusted more than anyone else. He was the one you turned to when life felt too heavy to bear, the one who never made you feel like a burden for leaning on him.

He was your partner in crime, the one who’d sneak off with you during boring school events, laughing as the two of you got caught and had to face detention together. He made life feel like an adventure, even in the quiet, simple moments.

But above all, he was your first love. Though you never said it out loud, it was there—in the way your heart skipped a beat whenever he smiled at you, in the way you found yourself searching for him in every room you walked into. It was in the way you felt safe and seen in a way no one else could make you feel.

He didn’t know, of course. How could he? You were just kids, too shy to even admit it to yourself most of the time. But looking back now, it was clear as day: he wasn’t just your best friend. He was the boy who had stolen your heart, even if he never realized it.

You paused. The faint buzz of the voting machines around you barely registered as you froze in place. Why were you thinking about him now, of all times? You clenched your fists, trying to will the memories away, but they pushed their way into your mind regardless.

You remembered the way he shouted at you, his voice filled with anger and frustration. The argument had been sharp, the words he threw at you cutting deeper than you ever thought possible. He had been upset that you were leaving, but instead of asking you to stay, instead of saying goodbye, he stormed off.

It didn’t matter how much time had passed; the wound was still raw. He was your best friend, the boy you loved so deeply you couldn’t even bring yourself to admit it back then. And he let you leave without so much as a goodbye.

Your chest tightened as the memories overwhelmed you, crashing over you like waves. You had convinced yourself that you were over it—that it didn’t matter anymore. But clearly, that wasn’t true. The emotions you had buried deep, the hurt and the unanswered questions, all clawed their way back to the surface.

Did he hate me? The thought stung, even now. Did I mean so little to him that he couldn’t even say goodbye?

The pain lingered, sharp and vivid despite the years that had passed. You could still see it, like a scene burned into your memory—the moment he walked past you on your last day of school. His face had been a mask of cold indifference, his eyes resolutely avoiding yours as though looking at you would cost him something precious.

You had called his name, your voice trembling with desperation and a plea you couldn’t quite voice. You just wanted him to stop, to look at you, to give you a reason, a sign that he cared. Anything to make the ache in your chest a little less unbearable.

But he didn’t.

He just kept walking, his steps steady and unyielding, leaving you standing there. The knot in your throat had tightened until it felt like you couldn’t breathe. He left without a word, without even a glance. And in that silence, you were left with nothing but heartbreak and questions that would never be answered.

And now, here you were, those same feelings dragging you down as the votes continued. The sound of faint button presses and shuffling feet filled the air, each vote drawing everyone closer to an answer.

You hadn’t been paying attention to the numbers flashing on the screen, but the tension in the room was suffocating. The votes were neck and neck—X and O, tied. A deuce. The final vote could change everything. You could feel the unease creeping over the room like a storm cloud ready to burst. The fate of the game rested in the hands of the last player.

The tension was unbearable. Everyone held their breath. It felt as if time itself had come to a standstill, the anticipation hanging in the air.

You forced yourself to look up, to see who the final person would be. Your heart pounded louder in your chest with every second, the weight of what was about to happen pressing down on you. Your gaze fell on the figure walking toward the voting station. You couldn’t immediately register who it was—your mind too wrapped in the urgency of the moment. The final decision.

 But then something hit you. A familiarity. A sinking feeling in your chest.

And then your breath hitched.

It was him—.

In-ho.

Your world seemed to tilt on its axis as you watched him. It was like a punch to your gut. Your chest tightened painfully, and your thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. You had spent years trying to push him out of your mind, trying to move forward, but in that moment, it all came rushing back with a force you weren’t prepared for. The ache in your chest deepened, and you realized just how much you had never really healed.

Your mind swirled with the years you’d spent without him. The countless nights you had stayed awake, wondering what had gone wrong, why your friendship ended that way.

He was standing there now, in front of you, like a ghost of your past. He was so close, yet you couldn’t reach him. You couldn’t understand what you were seeing. Was this a dream? Was this some cruel twist of fate?

You watched his every move as if in slow motion. There was no hesitation in his actions. His hand reached out to press the button with a deliberate, practiced motion.

And then, he voted. O.

The cheers erupted around you, but they felt distant, muffled, like they were happening in another world. You could hear the excitement rising from the others around you, the shift in the air as the vote swung in favor of continuing the game. 182 to 183.

But none of that mattered to you.

All you could think about was how the boy who had once meant everything to you was here, in the same room, playing the same dangerous game. The same boy who had walked away from you all those years ago, leaving you in silence. 

You stared at him, unable to move, to speak. It was as if time had stopped, like the world around you had turned to static. Your mind was racing, a torrent of emotions swirling inside you. The hurt you had pushed down for so long had exploded back to the surface.

You couldn’t tear your gaze away from him, your body frozen in disbelief. All you could do was stand there, feeling the weight of the past, the weight of everything that had happened between you two. The questions that you had carried for so long—about why he left, about why he never said goodbye—pushed their way to the surface, raw and painful.

Your mind raced, but your body refused to move. You were trapped in this moment, unable to escape the overwhelming emotions that came with it. There was no easy way out.

The past was alive in front of you, and it had never felt so real.

Hwang In-ho was a man who prided himself on always being in control. Every move he made was deliberate, calculated, and designed to maintain his upper hand. He wasn’t one to take risks without knowing the outcome, nor did he leave anything to chance. His sharp intellect and knack for strategy had always kept him one step ahead of everyone else, whether it was in the games or in life outside of them.

So when he learned that Seong Gi-hun, the man who had also escaped the game’s clutches once, was coming back—not as a desperate participant, but as a threat to everything the games stood for. In-ho knew he had to act. It wasn’t just about the rules or the money; it was about protecting the intricate system he had helped sustain, the foundation he had sacrificed everything to uphold.

The idea of Gi-hun winning was infuriating. He wouldn’t allow it. Not because he believed in the games' morality, but because their collapse would mean his own failure. It would mean admitting that he, the one who always stayed ahead, had lost control.

And In-ho did not lose. Not to anyone. Certainly not to Seong Gi-hun.

The solution was clear: he had to join the game.

Adopting the alias "Young-il," In-ho entered as Player 001, his plan meticulously calculated. Every detail was accounted for—his presence would be unassuming, his actions deliberate. The goal was simple: get close to Gi-hun, observe his every move, and ensure the game remained firmly under his control.

It wasn’t just about safeguarding the system he had come to embody; it was about reaffirming his dominance. To In-ho, this was more than strategy—it was a statement. A test to prove that no matter the odds, no matter who opposed him, he would remain two steps ahead.

That was his purpose. His only focus.

Or so he thought.

Everything changed the moment he saw you.

It was as if the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving him breathless and disoriented. In-ho’s steps faltered, his carefully calculated composure slipping for the first time in years. His eyes locked onto your figure amidst the sea of players, and for a fleeting moment, he thought it was a cruel trick of his mind—a phantom conjured by guilt and memory.

But no. The wide, shocked eyes staring back at him were unmistakably yours.

The realization struck him like a physical blow, an ache spreading through his chest that he couldn’t ignore. You were here. You were really here.

You shouldn’t be here.

He froze, his usually sharp mind scrambling to piece together an explanation. What were you doing here? What had happened in your life to bring you to this place of desperation and death? He remembered you as you once were—bright, warm, full of life—and now, the thought of you standing on this stage of horrors felt wrong in every conceivable way.

Memories of you came rushing back, vivid and unrelenting. The way you used to laugh, how you’d pull him out of his brooding silences with a simple touch, the way you always seemed to bring light into his otherwise shadowed world. Those memories clashed violently with the reality before him. You didn’t belong here. Not in this uniform. Not in this nightmare.

He felt his mask of indifference. The armor he’d built over years of pain and regret started to crack. For so long, he had mastered the art of detachment, burying every emotion deep beneath a layer of control. But now, with you standing there, all of it came flooding back. Guilt. Regret. Anger.

And something else. Something he couldn’t name but had tried to bury long ago.

The look on your face gutted him. Recognition, confusion, hurt—it was all there, as raw and unguarded as the day he’d last seen you. You looked at him like he was a ghost, like you couldn’t believe he was standing in front of you. That look shattered something in him, something he hadn’t realized was still breakable.

For the first time in years, In-ho felt unsteady. His carefully constructed walls, the ones that had kept him in control, in power—shook under the weight of your stare.

This wasn’t part of the plan.

He clenched his fists at his sides, a desperate attempt to regain control, to force himself back into the cold, calculating mindset he’d mastered. He couldn’t let you see how much this affected him. Not here. Not now. This was a game—a deadly one—and emotions were dangerous, liabilities he couldn’t afford.

Even as he tried to steady himself, forcing his gaze away and focusing on the task at hand, something inside him rose above the chaos. He knew, without a doubt, that he had to protect you.

It wasn’t rational. It wasn’t part of his plan. But it was undeniable. Seeing you here, dressed in the same uniform, facing the same deadly stakes, ignited something in him that he couldn’t ignore. He had joined the game to regain control, to manipulate the outcome, to ensure Gi-hun wouldn’t tear everything apart. But because the one person he never wanted to see in this hell was standing right in front of him, the thought of sticking to that plan seemed impossible.

And no matter what it cost him—his control, his plan, his very life—he couldn’t let you die.

It was time for the second game: the Six-Legged Pentathlon.

You walked hand in hand with another player—Player 222, Kim Jun-hee, as she had introduced herself earlier. Together, the two of you moved through the crowded room, searching for three more players to form a team. Your eyes flicked down to the frail figure beside you, her grip on your hand trembling slightly, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of protectiveness.

Earlier, before the announcement of the next game, you had found her curled up in the corner of the bathroom, clutching her stomach with a pained look on her face. She had been trying to hide her tears, but they slipped through anyway, leaving tracks down her pale cheeks. The image of her broken composure stuck with you, and even now, the weight of it hadn’t lessened.

The look on your face as you crouched beside her was indescribable. When you asked her what was wrong, she was silent at first, her gaze vacant and lost as if the weight of the world was too much to carry. Slowly, her shoulders sagged, and she spoke in a low, quiet voice, each word heavy with the burden she was trying to carry. It wasn’t just about the game anymore—it was everything. Her words were a confession, a painful release of all the fears that had built up inside of her. She spoke of being alone, of how no one wanted to team up with her, and the overwhelming worry that constantly gnawed at her. But it wasn’t just that.

She talked about her child. The one thing in this nightmare that kept her going, even if only by the thinnest thread. Her mind was consumed by the thought of them. She wondered if they would survive. But what hurt the most was the months of silence from the man she thought she would spend the rest of her life with. Her fiancé, who had disappeared without a trace, left her to wonder if he was dead or alive, only to learn he was in the same hellish game. She never imagined she would have to face this—alone, scared, with no one to lean on.

Something in her tone, the hopelessness wrapped in every syllable, struck a chord deep within you. For a moment, it wasn’t Jun-hee you saw—it was yourself. 

You had been there before. You knew what it was like to feel abandoned, to watch everything you had built slowly crumble, to be left in a world where trust was a distant memory. The same fears she voiced were the ones that had haunted you—the fear of losing your loved ones, the dread of facing a future where you had nothing, and the overwhelming loneliness that seemed to suffocate every hope you had left.

Her pain was your pain, her desperation mirrored your own. You had been there—fighting for survival, clinging to any hope that things could get better, even when the world felt like it was falling apart. It wasn’t just empathy you felt for her; it was the haunting reminder of your own struggle, a shadow of the darkness that had once consumed you. You didn’t want her to experience the same isolation, the same crushing hopelessness that had almost broken you. You knew too well how it felt to be lost, to question whether you’d ever make it out alive, to wonder if there was anything left to fight for.

As you looked at her, a quiet resolve settled deep within you. You wouldn’t let her walk this road alone. You wouldn’t let her fall into the same despair that had once threatened to swallow you whole. You could no longer stand by and watch someone else go through the torment you had endured alone. You would be her strength, her anchor—just as you had longed for someone to do for you when everything seemed to be slipping out of your grasp.

Without hesitation, you reached out, your hand finding hers, cold and trembling. You squeezed it gently, offering a steadying warmth that you both needed. “Then you’ll come with me,” you said. “We’ll figure this out together.”

You weren’t going to let her face this nightmare by herself—not when you knew the crushing weight of solitude so well. You wouldn’t let her fall down the same painful path you’d been on. From that moment on, you refused to leave her side.

You were supposed to focus on your own survival, you know that, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave her behind. Something about her reminded you of someone else, someone you had been a long time ago. You couldn’t save everyone here, but maybe, just maybe, you could save her.

Meanwhile, In-ho’s plan was progressing smoothly. He had successfully gained Gi-hun’s trust and joined his team. Together with two others—Player 388 and Player 390—they were only one person short of completing their group. In-ho kept his head down, maintaining his facade as the amiable and harmless Player 001. He had positioned himself perfectly, right where he needed to be.

Until he heard your voice.

“Hello, excuse me. Do you have space for two more?”

His head snapped up instinctively. There you were, standing just a few feet away, holding player 222’s hand as you looked at Gi-hun and the others, avoiding him altogether.

In-ho couldn’t help but stare.

“We’re sorry, miss,” Gi-hun replied apologetically. “We already have four members.”

You didn’t falter, keeping your small smile. “That’s not a problem,” you said firmly. “Would you be willing to have her instead?”

Before anyone could respond, you gently nudged Jun-hee forward. She hesitated, glancing nervously between you and the group, but you gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

In-ho stayed silent, watching the interaction unfold. He didn’t trust himself to speak. Irritation bubbled under the surface. Of course, you would do something like this. Even in a place like this, where survival meant looking out for yourself, you were still thinking about someone else. Always putting others before yourself, even when it didn’t make sense to do so.

You never change.

And yet, despite the frustration clawing at him, He couldn’t stop the flicker of warmth in his chest. It was small, barely noticeable, but it was there. A part of him—a part he didn’t want to acknowledge—was happy.

Because no matter how much time had passed, no matter how much this place had changed the both of you, there were still parts of you that remained the same. That stubborn kindness, that fierce determination to protect others—it was one of the things he had always admired about you.

It was one of the things that terrified him.

You still carried that same hope, that same belief that people could be better, that kindness had a place even in a place like this. It made his stomach twist. The fact that you hadn’t hardened, hadn’t become cynical like everyone else—it was both a relief and a danger. You couldn’t afford to trust anyone here, not without consequence.

What if you trusted the wrong person? What if you let your guard down just once and someone used that against you? He had seen it happen before, in a way that made his insides tighten with dread. People here weren’t to be trusted, and you were too pure, too unguarded. He’d seen how quickly things could turn, how easily alliances could break, how one wrong move could be the end of someone’s life.

It made him want to reach out, to warn you, to pull you away from the people who might betray you. But instead, he stayed silent, his heart racing faster than his thoughts could keep up with.

His gaze shifted to the girl you had taken under your wing. She was trembling, showing a strong facade. In-ho couldn’t help but feel a surge of protectiveness for her too—though he would never admit it out loud. She was vulnerable. She didn’t belong here. But you were giving her a chance. You were always giving people chances, even when they didn't deserve them.

He tore his gaze away, looking anywhere but at you. He hated the way you made him feel, even after all those years. Torn between wanting to protect you and wanting to pull away, he couldn’t reconcile the two. He had built walls for a reason—so that no one could get too close, so that no one could hurt him again. And yet, there you were, slipping through those cracks, reminding him that even after all this time, even after all the distance, he still cared.

“What about you?” Player 388 asked, his voice tinged with concern.

You gave him a small, reassuring smile. “I’ll be okay. I’ll find a group somewhere.”

“Are you sure?” he pressed, his brow furrowing with worry.

You nodded, your tone firm but kind. “Of course. If you want, you can help me?” you offered, though it wasn’t a question so much as a gentle suggestion.

The male nodded without hesitation, as though it was the most natural thing to do. He saluted you with a small smile, his expression brightening as he turned to lead the way. You followed quietly, walking side by side as the two of you engaged in light, casual conversation. The sound of your voices seemed almost out of place in the tense atmosphere of the game, but for a moment, it was just the two of you, navigating the chaos in your own way.

In-ho watched the interaction unfold from a distance, his gaze fixed on you. His chest tightened as he observed the way you interacted with Player 388, the ease with which you formed connections, the comfort you seemed to give others despite the grim situation. For a fleeting moment, he found himself wishing it was him walking beside you instead of that other player. He longed to be the one you relied on again, the one you trusted in a world where trust felt like a luxury.

He clenched his jaw, his fists tightening at his sides, trying to suppress the emotions that stirred inside him. It wasn’t supposed to matter. You had your own path to walk, and he had his. But the feeling gnawed at him, more intense than he liked to admit. A part of him wanted to be the one to keep you safe, to be the one to stand by your side. To be the one you turned to, the one who could offer you something real in the midst of all the chaos. But another part of him feels like that’s impossible to achieve now.

Busy with his inner battle, he didn’t notice the curious watchful eyes of the female beside him.

Luckily, you and Player 388—Dae-ho, as he introduced himself—found a group of four not long after starting your search. Players 149, 007, 120, and 095 stood in a tight circle, whispering among themselves as they looked around for their missing fifth member. Their faces were a mix of tension and determination, but they didn’t seem hostile, which was more than you could ask for in this environment.

Dae-ho, ever the confident one, strode forward with an easy smile. “Excuse me… do you need more members?” he asked, his voice warm and inviting.

All four turned to face you both, their eyes scanning you up and down. There was an unmistakable wariness in their expressions; trust wasn’t exactly in abundant supply here. Finally, Player 120 spoke, her voice measured. “I’m sorry, but we only need one more.”

Dae-ho didn’t even flinch at the rejection. Instead, his grin widened, his tone growing more playful. “Well, you’re in luck! You see, [Name]nim here is a master at spinning tops. Quick hands, sharp focus—everything you’d need for precision games like these. How could you possibly pass on a deal like that?”

You blinked at him, both amused and exasperated. Was he seriously pitching you like you were a product at an auction? Despite the absurdity of it, his tone was so casual, so confident, that it managed to disarm the tension in the air, even if just a little.

You gave Dae-ho a small shake of your head before stepping forward yourself, bowing politely to the group. “I may not be a master,” you began, sending a pointed but amused glance toward Dae-ho, “but I’ll do my best to contribute. Please, if you’ll have me, I’ll work hard.”

The group exchanged glances, their hesitation apparent. It was weird for them, hearing a casual and almost teasing tone in an environment where death is prominent. Still, after a moment, Player 120 gave a curt nod. “Alright. You’re in.”

Relief flooded through you, and you turned to Dae-ho, a small smile breaking across your face. “Thank you,” you said, your tone filled with genuine gratitude.

Dae-ho gave a casual wave of his hand, as if dismissing your thanks. “Thank me after you survive this game [Name]nim.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head at his unshakable confidence. “Alright Dae-ho, see you later.”

As you turned back to your new team, introductions were exchanged before quickly discussing strategies. Despite the palpable tension in the air, they seemed cooperative enough. Each player carried their own air of quiet determination, though the stress of the situation was evident in the tightness of their voices and the stiffness in their movements.

Your team was one of the teams to go first. When it was your turn, you grabbed the top and string with trembling hands, whispering a small prayer under your breath. Slowly, you began winding the string tightly around the body of the top, starting from the bottom and wrapping upwards. But as you reached the middle, the string suddenly slipped free, unraveling entirely. You froze, your shaky hands betraying you further as you fumbled to pick up the loose string.

A lump rose in your throat as panic surged through you. You knew you were good at this. Spinning tops was your childhood talent, something you had always taken pride in. But now, in the most critical moment, your nerves were getting the best of you. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you looked at Player 120, your voice trembling. “I… I’m sorry. I swear I’m good at this. I’m just… really scared.”

Player 120’s expression softened, and she knelt beside you. Her voice was calm, reassuring. “It’s okay. You just need to take a deep breath and focus, alright? You’ve got this.”

Her words anchored you, and you nodded, inhaling deeply. As you exhaled slowly, a memory surfaced—something that always helped you when you were scared. Turning to 120, you asked hesitantly, “Could you… could you cover my eyes?”

She blinked at you, puzzled. “Cover your eyes? Why?”

You offered a nervous smile. “I promise it’ll help. It’s… just something I do.”

With a shrug, she moved behind you and placed her hands gently over your eyes. As darkness enveloped your vision, you felt a strange but comforting familiarity take over.

“What’s up with this weird ritual you do?” In-ho’s voice was teasing, his hands warm as they covered your eyes back then. “You’re always doing this!”

“It’s not weird!” your younger self had retorted, pouting.

“Is too!” he laughed. “Nobody else does this, you know.”

“Well, I get really scared when I see what I’m doing, okay?” you’d replied stubbornly. “So I thought, ‘What if I just don’t look?’ It helps me focus.”

You smiled softly at the memory, your hands finally steady as you began winding the string again. This time, it wrapped perfectly around the top, tight and precise.

When 120 uncovered your eyes, you felt a renewed sense of determination. But before you could proceed, a familiar voice cut through the air.

“To effectively spin the top, first, you must hold the loose end of the string firmly in your hand,” In-ho called out, his voice carrying an authoritative tone. He paced in front of you like a drill sergeant, his arms folded behind his back. “Next, throw the top onto the ground with a flicking motion. Pull the string sharply to make it spin. Understood?”

You straighten your posture, snapping a salute. “Sir, yes, sir!”

The two of you broke into laughter, a sound so pure and unexpected that it momentarily dissolved the tension in the air. When he handed you the fully wound top, his fingers brushed yours lightly. “Alright, [Name],” he said, his smile softening, “show me what you can do.”

Gripping the top tightly, you turned to him one last time, your eyes filled with uncertainty. He gave you a reassuring thumbs-up and a wide smile, and somehow, it was enough to calm your racing heart.

With all your might, you threw the top onto the ground, pulling the string sharply. It spun perfectly, steady and unwavering. Relief washed over you as you watched it spin continuously.

The cheers erupted so suddenly that it startled you out of your thoughts. Your teammates—149 and 120—rushed to your side, shaking your shoulders in celebration. Their excitement was infectious, and soon you found yourself smiling, laughing, and letting the moment sink in.

“Alright, alright, let’s calm down!” 120 said, her voice mixed with happiness and haste. She led the group to the next station, the victory fueling your collective determination.

In-ho watched from a distance, a quiet warmth blooming in his chest. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one he hadn’t let himself indulge in for years—a flicker of joy, the kind that came from something genuine. Seeing your face light up with relief and triumph stirred something buried deep inside him, something he thought was long gone. He couldn’t stop himself from cheering along with the others, maybe louder than necessary. Perhaps it was his way of masking the whirlwind of emotions inside him, or maybe it was just his heart acting on its own. Either way, he didn’t care to stop.

As your group crossed the finish line. The room became lively again. You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound pure and unrestrained, even as the adrenaline still coursed through your veins. For a moment, you allowed yourself to feel it: pride, joy, and the simple relief of success.

Amidst the commotion, your eyes instinctively searched the crowd—and then you saw him, his eyes never leaving yours. The sight made your breath catch, your smile faltering for a second before returning, softer this time.

And then it happened. Your eyes locked. Everything else seemed to fall away—the noise, the crowd, the weight of the game itself. It was just the two of you in that moment, a silent conversation unfolding in the space between your gazes.

His dark eyes, cold and guarded the first time you saw them, were now filled with longing, happiness, maybe even a glimmer of pride. It was as though he was telling you, I knew you could do it. I’m proud of you. But there was something deeper, too—something unspoken. His gaze held a vulnerability that he wouldn’t dare put into words, a quiet hope that you might still see him the way you once did.

You felt it, too. A warmth spreading through you, unexpected and disarming. The wall between you, built by years of distance and unspoken words, seemed to crack ever so slightly. For a brief moment, you forgot the tension, the pain, and the uncertainty. You saw him—not as an enemyl, not as someone you had grown apart from—but as the In-ho you once knew.

His lips twitched into a small smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes but still held a quiet sincerity. He wanted to say something, you could feel it. But words were unnecessary. The way his gaze softened, the way his shoulders relaxed, the way his presence seemed to pull you closer—it was enough.

The moment passed as quickly as it came, but it left something behind. A spark. A fragile yet undeniable hope.

As you were all escorted back to the main area, you found yourself glancing back at him one last time. He was still there, watching, his expression unreadable now. But you saw the faintest nod, as if to say, Please, let’s talk soon.

Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance. A chance to fix what had been broken. A chance to bridge the gap that had grown between you. A chance to reconcile, to find your way back to each other in a world that had done everything to pull you apart.

Your eyes remained locked with his until the door behind you closed.

Player 149 invited you to join them for a chat, a way to pass the time as the second game continued. With a small nod, you followed them to their little corner, settling on the stairs just behind Player 120. The group was warm and welcoming, and soon you were learning their names, hobbies, and bits of their lives outside the games.

Player 149 introduced herself as Jang Geum-ja, a kind but sharp woman who spoke with unwavering pride about her son, Player 007, Park Yong-sik. Her love for him was evident in every word and action—she had joined the games solely to pay off her son’s debt, determined to give him a better future despite the grim odds.

Player 120, Cho Hyun-ju, exuded a quiet yet approachable aura. A transgender woman with dreams of starting fresh, she joined the games not only to clear her debt but also to complete her medical treatments. Her plan was to move to Thailand and begin a new chapter in her life, one filled with hope and authenticity.

Finally, there was Player 095, Kim Young-mi, a soft-spoken woman with a warm, unshakable belief in the goodness of others. She and Hyun-ju had formed a close bond, their friendship blossoming into a dynamic partnership that made them inseparable—like two peas in a pod, finding strength in each other amidst the chaos.

As the room began to fill with players returning from the game, your eyes instinctively darted to the doors each time they opened. Your stomach twisted with worry, though you tried to stay composed. You were searching for Jun-hee and her group, your concern growing with each passing minute.

Finally, after what felt like forever, you spotted familiar faces walking through the doors. Relief surged through you as you quickly excused yourself from the group and descended the stairs. Without hesitation, you rushed straight to Jun-hee.

"Are you okay? How are you? How’s the baby? Did you feel nauseous? Do you want me to massage your back? Or your feet? Need to go to the bathroom? Pee? Puke?—"

Jun-hee's face turned bright red as she raised a hand to shush you. “Stop, [Name]nim, you’re embarrassing me,” she whispered, glancing nervously at her group. Despite her words, a small smile tugged at her lips, her eyes soft with gratitude.

“Hey! It’s [Name]nim!” Dae-ho’s cheerful voice cut through the moment as he jogged over to you.

“Dae-ho! Looks like I owe you a proper thank-you now, huh?” you said with a laugh, the tension in your chest finally easing.

The three of you exchanged warm words, laughter breaking through the otherwise somber atmosphere. Nearby, the rest of Jun-hee’s group—456, 390, and In-ho—watched the scene unfold. As 456 and 390 moved away to sit down at their spot, In-ho lingered, his gaze fixed on you for a moment longer before he turned to follow the others.

Moments later, you found yourself joining the group, introducing yourself properly. 390, a man with a friendly demeanor, grinned and replied, “Ah, how could we forget you? Thank you for giving Jun-hee to us. She’s really skilled in ddjaki! The name’s Park Jung-bae by the way.”

Your eyes widened. “Jung-bae? Are you Young-sun’s husband?” You asked, pointing a finger at him.

Jung-bae blinked in surprise. “Huh? How’d you know my ex wife?”

“I live in Ssangmun-dong! I visit your pub often. Young-sun would always keep me company when I stopped by.”

Recognition dawned on his face. “Ah! I remember now! You’re the one who splurged like crazy that one night. You even had to crash at our place because you were too wasted to leave! Young-sun told me you were whispering someone’s name... what was it... In-h—”

Panic shot through you as you clamped a hand over his mouth, heat rising to your cheeks. “Don’t. You. Dare,” you hissed, glaring at him.

Jung-bae’s eyes widened, and with a nervous nod, he raised his hands in surrender. You slowly released him, muttering an apology under your breath as you tried to regain your composure.

Dae-ho and Jun-hee, however, were staring at you, their mouths slightly agape. Who knew the kind person they looked up to was a raging alcoholic? Behind them, In-ho’s expression shifted subtly, something unreadable flashing in his eyes. Was it anger? Hurt? Curiosity? You couldn’t tell, and the uncertainty only made your heart race faster.

Breaking the awkward silence, Jung-bae cleared his throat. “W-well, speaking of Ssangmun-dong, my buddy here also lives there. We’re best of friends!” He gestured toward Player 456, who waved at you with a sheepish smile.

You bowed politely, offering a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“Seong Gi-hun,” he introduced himself with a nod.

“What a small world,” you said, grateful for the distraction as the three of you fell into an animated conversation about your shared hometown.

From a short distance away, In-ho watched the scene unfold, his expression unreadable. His gaze lingered on you, his mind racing. Why were you talking about Ssangmun-dong like it was the greatest place in the world? What about Gyeonggi-do? What about the memories you shared there? What about him?

He paused, a flicker of something he refused to name surfacing in his mind. Was it jealousy? No, it couldn’t be—he wasn’t allowed to feel that way, not after everything he’d done to you. The very thought felt absurd. Yet, the knot tightening in his chest as you spoke to others wasn’t easy to ignore.

A nudge from Dae-ho jolted him out of his thoughts. He blinked, realizing all eyes, including yours, were on him, waiting for his introduction. Clearing his throat, he straightened his posture and forced a polite smile.

“My name’s Oh Young-il. Young-il sounds like ‘zero one’, and that’s my number, see?” He gestured to the 001 embroidered on his jacket. Dae-ho raised his brows, impressed by the coincidence, but your gaze lingered on him, a storm of confusion hidden behind your composed expression.

You knew his real name. You knew that he was Hwang In-ho, not Oh Young-il. So why was he lying? The thought gnawed at you. Had he changed his name after getting married? But there was no wedding ring on his finger. Maybe he’d taken it off? No, no. The contradictions piled up, yet a part of you didn’t want to accept the truth. He wasn’t meeting your gaze, deliberately avoiding you. He was hiding something, and you wanted to know what it was.

The moment was interrupted as the heavy boots echoed across the room. Guards marched in, their presence commanding silence. The atmosphere shifted instantly as the square-masked guard stepped forward.

“Congratulations to all of you for making it through the second game,” the guard began, his voice monotone yet eerily loud. He pressed a button on a remote, and the massive piggy bank descended from the ceiling once again. Wads of cash began to tumble into the glass container, the sound of bills hitting each other. Eyes across the room were glued to the spectacle, greed and desperation lighting up every face.

“The results of the second game are as follows: 110 players were eliminated. Therefore the total prize money accumulated is now 20.1 billion won. Since there are 255 players remaining, each person’s share is 78,823,530 won.”

Despite the staggering amount, you couldn’t shake the pit forming in your stomach. 78.8 million won. It was a fortune—more money than you could have ever imagined—but instead of relief, all you felt was disgust.

How could you be thinking about the money when 110 people had just died? Faces flashed in your mind, the terrified screams, the sight of bodies collapsing. And yet, here you were, wondering if it was enough to pay off your debts. The thought sickened you, and your throat tightened as bile threatened to rise. When did I become this person? You had stepped into the games for survival, for a better future, but now you couldn’t tell where desperation ended and greed began. The numbers on the screen blurred as hot tears welled in your eyes, your breaths coming quicker. I’m no better than the ones who created this place. Am I even human anymore? You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms as you tried to silence the spiraling thoughts, but they refused to stop.

You felt your body tremble, your vision narrowing as the room seemed to tilt around you. The walls felt closer, the hum of voices blurring into a distant buzz that drummed in your ears. Every blink brought a sting to your eyes, tears welling and threatening to spill over. You tried to focus—on the floor beneath your feet, the faint pattern of the tiles, anything—but it all blurred together, a haze of shapes and colors you couldn’t ground yourself in. Deep breaths came shallow, catching in your throat, each inhale fighting against the tightness in your chest. Your hands twitched at your sides, desperate for something to hold onto, but all they found was empty air. You whispered to yourself, hollow words of comfort you couldn’t even hear over the pounding of your heart. Your pulse throbbed in your ears, drowning out everything else. All you could feel was the weight of guilt pressing down on you, the silent judgment of the room—even if it existed only in your mind. You were spiraling, untethered, a storm of shame and helplessness that swallowed everything in its path.

Suddenly, a hand gently rested on your shoulder. The warmth startled you, and you whipped your head around to find its source. It was him. In-ho. Or Young-il, as he’d introduced himself. But he wasn’t looking at you; his head was turned toward the commotion among the players, who were now arguing loudly about the rules. His hand, though, remained on your shoulder, steady and deliberate.

Before you could process it, he began to rub your shoulder in slow, soothing circles. His fingers worked gently, almost instinctively, massaging the tension from your stiff muscles. You stared at him, stunned into silence. His expression remained neutral, his attention seemingly elsewhere, but his touch told a different story.

After all these years, he remembered. He remembered how you used to freeze up during moments of intense stress, how just a simple touch—steady and grounding—could help you calm down. You hadn’t needed to explain it to him back then; it was something he’d noticed, something he’d done instinctively. And now, after everything, he was still the same. His hand stayed on your shoulder, firm yet gentle, just like before.

He remembered how you hated when people stared at you in moments of weakness, so he kept his eyes elsewhere. He knew you felt exposed, ashamed even, as if everyone was silently judging you, so he never let that happen. 

He remembered how you felt guilty for needing comfort, for drawing attention to yourself, so he never made a big deal of it. No words, no questions—just a quiet, unwavering presence that said, I’m here.

And you were thankful for that, more than you could ever put into words. It gave you hope. Hope that maybe, after all these years, there is still something left between you. 

With a grateful nod, you looked away as his hand left your shoulder, already missing his warmth. The commotion around you had ended, and people were drifting back into small groups, discussing their next move. You knew you had to focus, to think through the decision, but your mind felt like it was breaking into pieces. Should I vote X? If it wins, you’d leave with 78 million won—not nearly enough to erase your debt, but at least it would mean you were alive. Or should I vote O? That meant continuing the games. No guarantee of survival, but a chance at something greater—a chance to fix everything.

You tilted your head to gaze at the piggy bank hanging above, its glowing light taunting you. Before you could fully weigh your options, a conversation behind you caught your attention.

“Oh, don’t worry. I want to stop here,” In-ho’s voice said casually.

You froze, listening.

“I should go and be with my wife at the hospital,” he added.

Oh.

It was like someone had snuffed out the flicker of hope you’d just found. The energy drained from your body in one cruel wave as the words settled in. A bitter laugh bubbled up in your throat, and you swallowed it down, shaking your head. Of course, he has a wife. How could you have thought otherwise? You felt like a fool for hoping, for thinking even for a second that those small moments meant something more.

Dae-ho’s voice broke your spiraling thoughts. “I’m telling you, we’ll get out this time,” he said with determination, tugging at the patch on his jacket like it was the source of all his problems. “A marine should think strategically and know when to retreat,” he added, giving Jung-bae a playful shake.

Jung-bae, looking utterly rattled, nodded weakly. “R-right… that’s true,” he muttered, though his nervous glances betrayed his doubts.

“We have to end the games here,” Gi-hun said firmly, stepping into the circle of your group. His eyes met yours briefly, and you nodded. It was a silent agreement, one that seemed to lift his spirits slightly.

In-ho, standing off to the side, watched the exchange with something that could only be described as malice.

Dae-ho clapped his hands, calling everyone back to attention. “Alright, let’s huddle up!” he said with a grin, thrusting his hand into the middle.

One by one, everyone joined in. Your hand landed just below In-ho’s, and you tried not to think about it, about how the warmth of his hands made you feel .

“In one, two, three… Victory at all costs!”

“Victory at all costs!”

“This time the vote will begin with Player 001. Please cast your vote.”

All eyes turned to him, including yours. In-ho met your group’s collective gaze with a calm, unreadable expression before walking up to the platform. Without hesitation, he pressed the X button. The distinct chime echoed in the room as the counter for X increased by one.

The next player—Player 006—stepped forward. Without much deliberation, they also pressed X, their vote adding another mark to the tally.

“Player 007.”

Your eyes flicked upward at the familiar number. It was one of your teammates from the second game, Yong-sik. You spotted him in the crowd, watching him lean down to exchange hushed words with his mother. Her expression was tight, desperate, begging him to vote X but he simply nodded before walking to the machine. His hesitation was visible as he stood there, torn between his choices. Then, the sound of O being chosen played, the button glowing bright blue as his vote was registered.

Your heart sank as you saw his mother’s face fall, her grief and disbelief plain for everyone to see. You averted your eyes, unable to look at either of them any longer. You understood both sides of the story—the desperate hope of a mother to save her child so they can go home and the equally desperate desire of a child to pay his debt fully, leaving his mom with no more worries.

The votes continued, each press of a button punctuating the room like a drumbeat of tension. Finally, your turn came. You felt the weight of the decision like a physical burden pressing on your shoulders. Part of you wanted to vote O, to take the gamble, to fight for a chance to win enough to pay off your crushing debt. But the thought of your group—the first people in years who had truly accepted you—stopped you. You had promised yourself that you would protect them, that they would go home safe to their families.

You stepped forward and pressed X. The red glow of the button reflected on your face as the counter ticked up. You removed your blue patch as a guard gave you a red one. You stuck it to your jacket before, giving a small bow to them before retreating to your spot.

As you walked back, you felt In-ho’s gaze following your every step. His eyes burned with intensity, but you didn’t look his way. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, not when you knew the truth now. He had a wife—a life far removed from you. Whatever feelings you might have clung to in the past didn’t matter anymore. You would not degrade yourself into becoming a mistress in someone else’s story.

The voting continued until suddenly, a commotion broke out. Gi-hun stormed to the center of the room, shouting for people to vote X and urging them to end the games. His words rang out with desperation, but before he could fully plead his case, In-ho cut him off.

In-ho’s voice carried an edge of anger as he stepped forward, his composure cracking. “There’s no guarantee you’ll survive the next game! Do you really want to risk your lives for a few more million won?”

The room fell silent for a moment, tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Then Player 100 stepped forward, shaking his head with disdain. “And what if we don’t risk it? We leave here with nothing but debt and regret. One more game, and we’re looking at at least 240 million each. That’s life-changing money!”

His argument ignited the room, and chaos erupted. Voices clashed, some siding with In-ho, others with Player 100. It spiraled into a shouting match, each side growing louder, more frantic.

You stood still, detached from the chaos. As much as you wanted to support your friends, you couldn’t bring yourself to intervene. This wasn’t a debate to be won; it was simply another game of chance, with lives hanging in the balance. The outcome wasn’t up to persuasion or reason. It was up to luck.

Finally, the vote was tallied. O won against X by a wide margin, 139 to 115.

Your stomach churned, fear creeping in as you processed what it meant. You weren’t scared for yourself but for Jun-hee, her kind heart too soft for the brutality of these games. You weren’t worried about your own safety but for Dae-ho, whose unwavering faith in others had been betrayed as Jung-bae—someone he admired and respected—voted O.

When the vote ended, your group regrouped, the air thick with tension and unspoken emotions. You found yourself behind Jun-hee as she ate her portion of the day’s dinner. Her small frame trembled, though she tried to hide it, her hands shaking as she clutched the bread's wrapper.

Without a word, you placed your hands on her shoulders, massaging gently to ease her tension. You moved to her lower back, your fingers pressing lightly, offering what little comfort you could in such a bleak moment. She didn’t say anything, but the way her breathing slowed told you that it helped, even just a little.

Without a second thought, Dae-ho stood up, his face conflicted as he grabbed Jung-bae by the arm and dragged him over to your group. His eyes darted nervously between you, Jun-hee, Young-il, and Gi-hun before his gaze softened, and he let out a heavy sigh.

“I’m sorry, [Name], Jun-hee, Young-il,” he started, his voice low, his words laced with guilt. “Gi-hun, I’m sorry…” His apology hung in the air, sincere but laced with discomfort.

He went on to explain his decision to vote O, his voice shaky but determined. “You see, I borrowed some emergency cash, and the creditors have been harassing my ex-wife and kid. They’re threatening them, and if I play one more game, I think I’ll be able to settle the debt. So…” His words trailed off, the weight of his decision clear in his eyes.

Before you could speak up in defense of Jung-bae, In-ho cut him off, his frustration still fresh from the earlier commotion. His tone was cold, a sharp edge beneath the calm exterior. “Jung-bae,” he started, his voice low but heavy with disappointment. “You of all people shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t twice as righteous.”

You felt a twinge of sympathy for Jung-bae, but In-ho’s words were true. Deep down, you understood why In-ho was so disappointed.

In-ho’s gaze flicked back to Jung-bae as he continued, his words almost regretful. “But looking at the results, even if you two voted against it, we would still have been outvoted.”

“Right? So it’s not really our fault,” Jung-bae quickly added, eager to find any shred of justification. He seemed relieved, like the pressure had been lifted slightly, but his eyes flickered nervously to the others, waiting for confirmation.

Dae-ho, who had been silently observing, scratched his head and gave Jung-bae a comforting pat on the shoulder. His movements were casual, though his eyes were thoughtful. “Honestly, I get why you did it. 78 million won isn’t enough. So when I went to vote, I really thought about going for ‘O’ too.”

You nodded in agreement, a soft murmur of approval escaping you. You understood the temptation, the overwhelming urge to fight for more when it felt like everything was slipping away. The money was too much to ignore.

Seeing the subtle nods of agreement from the group, Jung-bae’s confidence grew. He straightened his posture, eager to make up for his earlier decision. “Next game, I promise. I’ll—”

“Next game?” Gi-hun’s voice cut through the air, sharp and filled with a quiet intensity. “Next game, we might have to kill each other.”

The room went completely still. Everyone froze, the silence thick and suffocating. Gi-hun’s words hung in the air, their weight sinking into each of you. He was right, and the grim truth of it was enough to stop all conversation. There was no sugarcoating it. The next round could very well be the end, and the thought was unbearable.

The quiet that followed was heavy, the dread and uncertainty sinking into your bones. You couldn’t help but feel a cold shiver run down your spine, the magnitude of what was to come settling over you like a thick fog.

Annoyed by the uncomfortable pause, you spoke up, your voice cutting through the tension. “Gi-hun, that’s a bit much. We all know there’s nothing we can do about it now. Let’s just stay focused. We need to eat, get ourselves together, and prepare for the next round.”

The group seemed to agree with your statement, the momentary discomfort fading as they all began to refocus.

In-ho, ever the quiet observer, handed his milk carton to Jun-hee without a word, his gaze flicking to her briefly before he looked away. “I don’t drink plain milk,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the gesture was nothing more than a small, unnoticed act.

Jung-bae, following suit, offered his bread to Jun-hee as well, his eyes shadowed with guilt. “I don’t deserve to eat,” he said with an awkward chuckle, trying to mask the heaviness of his words with forced humor.

You watched the exchange, your heart twisting slightly, but before you could speak, Dae-ho leaned in, his voice light but with an edge of concern. “I’ll take the milk carton?”

When Jung-bae shot him a glare, Dae-ho hesitated, then pulled back, not wanting to push it further.

As you ate, you couldn’t help but feel the heavy weight of what was ahead. The uncertainty, the danger—it all felt too much. But in this moment, you focused on your meal, knowing it was the only thing you could control for now.

You found yourself sitting beside Dae-ho, your bread in hand, chewing quietly as you both took a brief moment of respite. Dae-ho seemed lost in thought, his eyes darting toward you, hesitant yet full of unasked questions.

“If you have any questions, just ask me, Dae-ho,” you said, offering a small smile. “I’m not gonna bite, you know?”

His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, caught off guard by your casual invitation. But he took a deep breath, calm now, and turned to face you fully. “Do you have kids at home, [Name]nim?” he asked, his voice low but sincere. “It’s just... whenever I see you with Jun-heesii, it reminds me of my mother taking care of me and my four sisters.”

You hesitated, feeling a slight pang of discomfort as you realized the question would require a vulnerable answer. In-ho, sitting nearby, seemed to listen in, his curiosity piqued. Part of him, though, wished you didn’t have any children, that you weren’t settled in on with somebody, a selfish thought he quickly pushed away.

“Ah, this is embarrassing,” you murmured, a soft laugh escaping you as you fidgeted with your bread. “I actually don’t have any kids or a husband... I’ve never even had a boyfriend. Boys don’t really look at me like that, if you know what I mean. Life wasn’t that nice to me, especially after we moved. I didn’t have the time or luck for any of that…”

Dae-ho’s expression softened with guilt. He immediately regretted asking the question, but when he saw the faint longing in your eyes, he paused. There was something more behind your words—something unspoken, something that told him you longed for a family, for the chance to live that dream.

In-ho, overhearing, felt a pang in his chest. What had happened to you? He knew things had ended badly between the two of you, but he never expected life to treat you so harshly. You were kind, generous, and had always believed in the goodness of people. He couldn’t understand why life had been so difficult for you. You didn’t deserve that.

Before the silence could grow any heavier, Jung-bae mischievously broke it with a suggestion. “Well, if you like, I can set you up with someone back in Ssangmun-dong. Right, Gi-hun?”

Gi-hun, who had been quiet up until then, blinked in surprise, his confusion evident. “Huh? Who?”

“You know! Sang-woo! The Pride of Ssangmun-dong!” Jung-bae grinned, clearly amused by his own suggestion. “I think he and [Name] would make a great couple, don’t you think?”

At the mention of Sang-woo, Gi-hun’s face shifted. His expression faltered, a wave of guilt and sadness clouding his features. A pained smile tugged at his lips as he nodded absently. “Yeah... I think so too,” he murmured, his mind clearly elsewhere as he drifted off into his own thoughts.

The sudden change in Gi-hun’s demeanor caught your attention. His usual angry and tense self had been replaced with something quieter, a deep sadness that seemed to pull at him. You looked to Jung-bae for an explanation, your brows furrowed in concern.

In a soft voice, Jung-bae filled in the blanks. “Gi-hun and Sang-woo were childhood friends, but... he’s been missing for years.”

You nodded, understanding the pain behind Gi-hun’s words. You could relate to that feeling—the ache of a long-lost connection. You couldn’t help but feel a pang in your own heart as well. Even though the lost connection was right in front of you, and he still felt so far away.

Gi-hun’s sadness wasn’t a good look on him. He was always either grumpy or happy, never in between. You wanted to change that. You thought back to when you missed In-ho so much, you’d drown your sorrows in alcohol and chatter to Young-sun about him. Maybe, just maybe, getting Gi-hun to talk about Sang-woo could help him, even if it was just for a little while.

“Hey, Gi-hun,” you called softly, breaking the silence. “Tell me more about this Sang-woo guy. Who knows, maybe we’d click together, you know?”

Gi-hun’s eyes widened in surprise, clearly caught off guard by your question. But something in his gaze softened as he began to talk. He recounted bits and pieces of his childhood with Sang-woo, his voice lighting up with nostalgia. His eyes shined as he described his friend’s strengths, quirks, and all the little memories they shared.

From the way Gi-hun spoke, you could see how much Sang-woo meant to him. The same way you felt about In-ho, the weight of love and loss behind every word. You silently prayed for their reunion. Gi-hun deserved happiness, and you wished for him to find it—whether through Sang-woo or another way.

In-ho’s jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation flashing in his eyes. If they were going to give you a partner, they should give you someone who can protect you—someone who knows you, your likes and dislikes, your type... His thoughts were possessive— jealous. His hands clenched into fists, though he forced himself to stay composed. He wasn’t sure why the thought of you with someone else hurt so much, but it did. It hurt more than he was willing to admit.

As the conversation shifted and laughter filled the space, In-ho stayed silent, the weight of his unspoken emotions heavy in the air. The conversation ended when they all went to the bathroom, leaving you and Jun-hee alone. She wasted no time asking a question that had been bothering her ever since she noticed something strange.

“[Name]nim, do you know Young-ilnim? Like, before the games?”

You were taken aback, your surprise evident in the way your eyes widened. What prompted her to ask such a thing?

“No, not that I remember,” you replied, a small ache tugging at your chest. It was hard to say those words. “Why do you ask?”

Jun-hee hesitated, her gaze flickering down to her hands. “It’s just that… I always see Young-ilnim looking at you, or staring at you. Especially when you helped me during the second game. His stare... it was like there was something there.” She trailed off, her voice quiet, unsure if she had crossed a line. “I thought you two might know each other. Sorry if I overstepped.”

“No, no... don’t apologize, Jun-hee. You didn’t do anything wrong,” you reassured her with a small smile. “Maybe I just remind him of someone?”

The conversation shifted, and though the topic ended there, you couldn’t help but linger on what Jun-hee said. In-ho, looking at you? Your mind spun with questions that you couldn't quite answer. But before you could dive deeper into your thoughts, the group returned from the bathroom, and the moment was gone.

Gi-hun gathered everyone, asking them to bring their mattresses and bedding to your designated spot. You all exchanged confused looks but did as instructed, gathering pillows and blankets. It was clear there was something important going on, and it wasn’t lost on anyone.

As you and Jun-hee handed out the bedding, the tension in the air grew. Jung-bae spoke up. “Hey, is this really necessary? I don’t like sleeping under here.”

Gi-hun continued setting down blankets without looking up. “Once the lights go out, someone might attack us.”

His words grabbed everyone's attention, and you paused, glancing around. Dae-ho, curiosity now evident in his eyes, asked, “Why would anyone do that?”

“The prize money goes up every time someone dies. It’s part of the game they designed,” Gi-hun explained, his voice tense with the weight of the situation.

You frowned, the idea feeling far-fetched at first. But as you thought about the desperation you’d seen in people—and the way some of the others eyed the prize board with hunger—it started to make a disturbing kind of sense. Gi-hun’s words seemed to settle over the group like a cold shiver, but In-ho wasn’t convinced. “Gi-hun, I think you're overreacting,” he said, shaking his head. “Even if that were true, people wouldn’t do that.”

Gi-hun turned to him sharply, fury in his eyes. “In the previous games, dozens of people killed each other at night. Right here, you have no idea how people can change in a place like this…”

In-ho trailed off, looking away, clearly uncomfortable. “I see… I guess I didn’t know what I was talking about. I’m sorry.”

The tension between the two men was palpable, but Gi-hun, though still angry, nodded with some understanding. “We need to take turns keeping watch after the lights go out.”

“I’ll take the first watch. You should decide the order for the rest,” Gi-hun added, continuing to spread the last of the blankets.

It wasn’t long after that you found yourself lying on the bottom bed, the silence in the room heavy. You couldn’t tell what time it was, but sleep seemed distant. With your eyes closed, you tried to rest, but your mind kept wandering. You couldn’t shake the thoughts of Jun-hee’s question, of In-ho’s gaze, and of all the tension in the air.

After what felt like an eternity, you couldn’t stay still any longer. You quietly rolled out of the bed, careful not to disturb Jun-hee beside you. As you stood, you rubbed your eyes, still groggy but wide awake. You walked over to the one who was supposed to be keeping watch.

“Hey... get some sleep. I’ve got it from here,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath in the darkness.

When no response came, you paused, your heart beating a little faster. Had you imagined it? You slapped your cheek lightly, half-expecting to wake up from a dream, but the sting was real. This was no dream. You were still in the game. But who was supposed to be guarding?

As you glanced toward the guard, your breath caught in your throat. There, in the dim light, stood In-ho, staring at you with wide, almost startled eyes.

“In-ho...” you whispered, the name escaping before you could stop it.

He blinked, his expression unreadable. “[Name]... sit down, will you?” His voice was quiet, laced with an undercurrent of tension. You did as he asked, your body moving on its own, though the atmosphere between the two of you felt thick with unspoken words.

You sat there, your knees pressed together. The silence stretched, heavy and thick. There were so many things unsaid between you, so many apologies left unspoken, so many reasons left unexplained. Neither of you seemed to know where to start, but the distance between you had never felt more real. You had shared a bond once, and now it was hard to find the words to bridge the gap that had formed.

In-ho shifted slightly, as if searching for something to say, but still, nothing came. Neither of you moved for what felt like hours, both of you stuck in a place neither knew how to navigate.

The silence between you and In-ho lingered, thick and suffocating, each of you carrying the weight of the years since you’d last spoken. Finally, In-ho shifted, breaking the stillness, his voice low and tight.

"[Name], I—I'm sorry," he started, his words hesitant, as though testing the waters.

"I shouldn't have acted like that, not when you were leaving. On our last day together, I—" He stopped himself, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes avoiding yours, searching for the right words in the dim light. "I was so angry, I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t mean to push you away. I never should have let my emotions control me like that, especially when I knew you were going away."

Your chest tightened at his words. The apology you’d waited for, yet feared to hear, was finally being spoken, but the bitterness still clung to you. You swallowed hard, forcing the anger down, trying not to let it rise again. It felt like you were walking a fine line, torn between the hurt and the understanding you wished you could give him.

"You know," you said softly, voice wavering, "I was angry, too. You pushed me away, In-ho. I never got to explain myself, to tell you why I had to leave. It hurt so much that you didn’t even give me a chance." You paused, trying to steady yourself. "I don’t know what you thought, but I wasn’t running away from you. I... I never wanted to hurt you."

In-ho’s eyes flickered, regret and guilt tugging at his expression. His hand tightened into a fist, then relaxed at his side, as if searching for the right words but struggling to find them.

"I thought you were just... leaving, leaving me, leaving us." he said quietly, his voice strained with emotion. "I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t know if I could let you go. But you were going, and it felt like I was losing you, like you’d be gone for good. I was angry that you didn’t even try to stay. I thought you had already made your choice." He swallowed hard, his gaze still on the floor. "I thought you didn’t care about me the way I cared about you."

Tears threatened at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. This was it. The truth you’d wanted to hear, but it didn’t make it any easier to bear. The anger you’d carried for so long still clung to you, but in this moment, it was tinged with understanding.

"I didn’t know you felt that way," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I thought you hated me for leaving. I thought I’d ruined everything, and you’d never forgive me for it." You took a deep breath, trying to steady the shaking in your chest. A tremor crept into your voice as you fought to hold back the emotions welling up inside you. 

"I understood why you did it," you said, voice cracking slightly. "I understood it at the time. You were scared, just like I was. But it didn’t make it hurt any less." Your voice dropped. "I didn’t know how to feel. You were the one person I thought I could rely on, and then you turned away without a word. And I had no choice but to carry that weight with me."

Your eyes locked onto his, your heart aching at the sight of the guilt in his expression. “I spent so much time angry at you, blaming you for leaving me like that. But now... now I know we were both just lost. I didn’t know how to handle it, and neither did you.”

In-ho’s face softened, his expression full of regret. "I wish I had known how to handle it better. I wish I had been braver... for you, for us. I should’ve told you how I felt, instead of shutting myself off."

The words hung in the air for a long moment, both of you silently processing what had been said. Then, as if a dam had broken, you continued, feeling a rush of emotions that you hadn’t been able to express before.

"All those years... I kept wondering if I could’ve done something different. If I could have convinced my parents to stay. But I was too proud, too scared. And when we left, it felt like the world just... stopped. I couldn't move forward, not without you. I didn’t know how to move on. And I don’t know if I ever truly did." Your voice cracked, the weight of it all coming crashing down in that moment.

In-ho’s breath hitched as you spoke, his eyes never leaving yours. “I was scared, too. I didn’t know how to handle the idea of losing you. But I realize now... that by pushing you away, I was only making it worse. I’m sorry, [Name]. I’m so sorry for everything.”

You both sat there in the quiet, the weight of the past hanging heavily in the air between you. In-ho’s voice broke through the silence again, softer this time. “I should’ve been better for you. I should’ve told you how I felt, not let my fear take over.”

Your heart ached hearing the sincerity in his words. He was so close now, but there was still a lingering distance between you. His hand hovered near yours, unsure if you’d let him in. Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers brushing his. The touch was like a lifeline, pulling you both back from the uncertainty.

In-ho’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his hand finally resting on top of yours. He shifted slightly, moving a little closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. There was a vulnerability in his gaze now, something you hadn’t seen in him before. “I don’t want to lose you again,” he said, his voice low and steady.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you had to swallow hard to keep them from spilling over. For so long, you’d carried this burden of unspoken words, of lost time. But now, sitting here beside him, it felt like the weight was lifting, bit by bit.

In-ho seemed to sense your struggle, his hand gently squeezing yours. “I’m sorry for everything I put you through. I never wanted you to feel abandoned or alone.”

The words were all you needed. With a shaky breath, you leaned toward him, resting your head on his shoulder. The closeness between you felt like a reunion, a connection rediscovered after years apart. In-ho’s arm slipped around you, pulling you just a little closer, as though he never wanted to let go again.

He ran his hand through your hair, slowly, gently, as if trying to calm the storm inside you. The motion was soothing, and for the first time in so long, you felt at peace. The anger and the hurt slowly started to fade, replaced by something new—something warm.

“I’ve missed you,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

In-ho paused, his breath hitching as he processed your words. He pulled back slightly to look at you, his face inches from yours. “I’ve missed you, too,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion.

You both sat there in the quiet, letting the words hang in the air, surrounded by the unspoken promise of a new beginning. The past wasn’t something that could be erased, but it didn’t have to define you anymore. What mattered now was that you were here, together, in this moment.

In-ho held you close as you let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of everything you’d kept inside for so long. You felt his chest rise and fall against you, steady and warm, as his presence grounded you. After a long moment of silence, he pulled back just enough to look at your face, his expression filled with concern and curiosity.

“What happened to you, [Name]?” he asked softly, his voice thick with emotion. “What happened all of this? I’ve been wondering for years.”

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest as the memories threatened to spill out. But, in his embrace, it felt safer to finally speak the truth. Slowly, you opened your mouth, your voice a whisper against his chest.

“I didn’t want to leave, In-ho,” you murmured. “But I had no choice.” Your voice cracked as you spoke, the weight of your past pressing down on you. “My parents... My father left for someone else, and my mother... she just disappeared. One day she was there, and the next, she was gone. I was... alone.”

You felt In-ho’s grip tighten around you as you spoke, but he said nothing. He just listened, offering his silent support.

“I tried to hold it together,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “But the bills kept piling up, and I couldn’t see a way out. I was working non-stop, just trying to keep up, but it never seemed to end. So, I thought, maybe a small loan would help... just to get by for a little while. But it only made things worse. I kept borrowing, and the interest kept stacking up. Eventually, I couldn’t keep up at all. To cope with everything, I started drinking. I just needed something to numb the pain.”

You paused, trying to steady your breathing. It felt like the floodgates had opened, and now there was no stopping it.

“After a while, it became a habit,” you said, your voice shaking. “I couldn’t face the world without it. And... I lost everything. My job, my sense of myself. I kept pushing people away because I didn’t know how to fix anything. I didn’t even know how to fix myself.”

In-ho’s hand gently cupped the back of your head, pulling you closer against his shoulder as if to shield you from the weight of your own words. He didn’t say anything at first, letting the silence settle between you. Then, his voice broke through the stillness.

“I’m sorry, [Name], I wish I was there with you during those times,” In-ho murmured, his voice filled with regret, each word heavy, like it carried all the years of silence and distance between you.

You let out a quiet sigh, the ache in your chest growing as you tried to push back against the weight of the past. The pain, the loss—it was all there, hovering just beneath the surface, but you chose to focus on what was right in front of you now. You chose the present. “It’s okay, In-ho,” you said softly, trying to steady your voice, but your heart was louder than it had been in years. “What matters now is you’re here with me, just like before.”

He was still so close to you, your bodies pressed together in the embrace, his breath uneven against your shoulder. His hand traced the back of your neck, his touch gentle, as though trying to reassure you, to hold you together. But there was more to it—something unspoken, a pull between you that neither of you had fully acknowledged until now. The warmth of his body, the steadiness of his presence, felt so right, and yet, it stirred something deeper, something dangerous.

His fingers grazed your cheek, his touch soft and hesitant, like he was testing the waters. He lingered, his thumb tracing the outline of your jaw. The tension between you was palpable, and you could feel that silent question in the air, one you had both ignored for so long. Could you finally give in? Could you finally let go of the years that had kept you apart?

You wanted to lean in. You wanted to close that distance, to feel his lips against yours and forget everything else. All the pain, the years apart, the weight of the world—it could disappear, just for a moment. But your mind raced with doubts. What if this wasn’t real? What if it was just a fleeting feeling? What if you were getting swept up in the moment, in the desperation of it all?

And then, In-ho’s lips brushed against your forehead, his kiss tender and almost like a promise. You didn’t hesitate this time. The distance between you seemed to disappear, and without thinking, you leaned in. Your lips parted, and your breath mingled with his as you slowly closed the gap, inch by inch. Your heart raced, your pulse pounding in your ears. It was all so familiar, yet so new. You could feel everything—the pain, the longing, the need. You wanted to erase the distance, to bridge the gap that had haunted you both for so long.

But just as you were about to close the distance completely, just as you were about to feel his lips against yours, something flashed through your mind. The memory of him speaking of his wife, of the woman who was supposedly ill in the hospital, came crashing back. Your chest tightened. He was already married. You pulled back suddenly, your breath caught in your throat.

“What about your wife, In-ho?” Your voice trembled, barely above a whisper. The words had been building inside you, but you couldn’t stop them. The questions came rushing to the surface. The connection, the closeness—it felt so real, but how could it be? How could you trust this moment when he had a sick wife waiting for his return?

In-ho froze, his eyes widening for a brief moment. Then, as though realizing the weight of what he’d said, his expression softened. He reached for you immediately, his hands cupping your face gently, almost desperately, like he couldn’t bear the space between you now.

“No,” he said, his voice low and strained. “You don’t understand. I lied to them. The wife... the illness... even my name. I did it for safety.” He explained as fast as he could.

“I swear to you, [Name], I wanted you. I always have. I’ve always wanted you. I’ve been waiting... waiting for you. All these years.”

The words hit you like a wave, sweeping over everything you had believed. The confession shattered your doubt. The years apart, the silence, the feelings that had never gone away. You had thought he was moving on, that he had a life without you, but now he was telling you that it had always been you. That he had always wanted you.

You looked into his eyes, searching for the truth, and for the first time in years, you saw it—his vulnerability, his sincerity. He had waited for you. He wasn’t lying now. 

Tears welled up in your eyes, and in that moment, you whispered, almost to yourself, “I never stopped thinking about you, either.”

That was it. Your hands, almost on their own, moved to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. The hesitation, the doubt, all of it was gone. You leaned in again, this time with no fear, no second-guessing. You could feel his lips, just inches from yours, and this time, it was going to happen. There was no turning back.

But just as you closed your eyes, just as you felt the warmth of his lips moving toward yours, the room suddenly lit up. The loudspeaker crackled to life, its cold, mechanical voice slicing through the moment like a knife.

“Third game will begin momentarily. All players, please get out of bed and get ready.”

The announcement shattered the moment like glass and reality rushed in. You pulled away quickly, both of you flustered, eyes wide as reality snapped back into place. In-ho let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. His gaze, still soft from the moment, quickly shifted into irritation.

You, too, felt your cheeks burn with the sudden shift. You couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh, the absurdity of it all washing over you. “Of course,” you muttered, voice a little shaky. “Couldn’t be that easy, huh?”

In-ho shot you a look, a mix of disbelief and exasperation. “I swear, they have the worst timing.” He shook his head, clearly irritated by how things had unfolded, but there was a trace of humor in his voice that made the tension feel lighter.

You both sat there for a moment, the awkwardness of the interruption still hanging in the air but somehow feeling less heavy. It was like you’d both just come back from the edge of something important—and the abrupt break made you laugh despite the weight of everything. In-ho let out a short chuckle too, the irritation in his eyes still there but fading, replaced by a sense of shared frustration with the situation.

You glanced at him, eyes still lingering as you both realized how close you'd come to crossing that line. But there was no point in lingering on it now—not with the game calling you back to reality.

“Guess the universe isn’t ready for us yet,” you said, shaking your head.

In-ho gave a soft, exasperated sigh, but the corner of his mouth twitched up slightly. “Yeah, well, it never really was on our side before,” he muttered, then stood, adjusting his clothes and brushing off the frustration like it was nothing.

You nodded, taking a deep breath before turning your back, to tend to the pregnant girl you had been caring for. It wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t feel quite as impossible as it had before. In-ho followed suit, his gaze lingering on you a little longer than necessary. For a moment, the room felt like it belonged to just the two of you again. But the third game was calling, and you both knew you had to face it. Together, this time.

The third game was Mingle. A game where you had to form pairs based on a number assigned and get into a room within 30 seconds. As the platform spun beneath your feet, you felt a wave of nostalgia wash over you. It reminded you of times spent playing this game with friends back in Gyeonggi-do. You remembered one time in particular, when he had gotten into a fight with a common friend, because of the said game. You laughed softly at the memory, causing In-ho to glance over at you, curiosity in his eyes.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, his voice low but still full of interest.

“Nothing,” you said with a soft chuckle. “I just remembered how Byung-hun was angry when you pulled him off of me, so you and I could be partners instead. Didn’t peg you to be a jealous kid.”

In-ho immediately bristled, though there was a playful glint in his eyes. “Hey, I wasn’t jealous. He was hurting you by gripping you so hard.”

“It didn’t even hurt!” you teased, but the corner of your lips twitched upward, unable to keep a smile off your face. “You’re just jealous.”

“Whatever you say…” In-ho muttered, stepping onto the platform. You followed him, shaking your head but smiling at the same time.

After four rounds, you all began preparing for the final one. The rounds were nerve-wracking, the tension palpable, but you had made it this far with the help of your amazing group. The platform began to spin, the music creating a frantic rhythm as it played in the background. You found yourself standing beside Jun-hee, instinctively holding her steady to keep her from stumbling as the platform jerked beneath your feet.

“What do you think the next number will be?” Jung-bae asked, his voice alert as he looked around.

Without hesitation, In-ho spoke up. “Two.”

Gi-hun raised an eyebrow, glancing at In-ho, silently asking him to explain.

“There are 50 rooms, and 126 people still alive. Everyone will need a partner, but there won’t be enough rooms. This is how they conduct these games.” In-ho’s eyes were sharp, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit of awe at how quickly he had figured it out.

And as it turned out, he was right.

2.

Everyone paused, looking around at each other, wondering who would pair up with whom. Before you could grab Jun-hee to pair up, In-ho suddenly grabbed your arm, pulling you along with him. The rest of your group—Dae-ho with Jun-hee, Gi-hun with Jung-bae—quickly followed, all of you rushing to find a room.

You spotted an open door and, without thinking, you shouted. “Over there!” You both sprinted toward it, but before you could step inside, a man suddenly tackled you to the ground. Your head slammed hard against the floor, and for a moment, everything spun.

In-ho’s face twisted with fury as he watched the man try to crawl into the room you had been aiming for, disregarding you entirely. Without thinking, he reached for the man, grabbing him by the neck and shoving him away from you.

“Get in the room!” In-ho shouted, his voice sharp and commanding. You were dizzy and nauseous, the world spinning around you, but you didn’t hesitate. You stumbled to your feet, still feeling the lingering effects of the impact, and forced yourself into the room, fighting through the haze in your head.

But as soon as you entered, something coiled around your neck, a vice-like grip tightening with brutal force. You gasped, your throat constricting as you tried to draw in a breath, but the air seemed to vanish. Your vision blurred, dark edges creeping into the periphery of your sight. Panic surged like a tidal wave, and you clawed at the hands choking you, but they were relentless. Your breath came in short, desperate gasps, each one feeling more like a plea for life than a simple breath.

The world around you was fading, your chest tightening, your limbs growing heavier. You struggled harder, your body thrashing, trying to free yourself, but the darkness was swallowing you whole.

And then—just when you thought you would lose consciousness—there was a shift. The grip loosened. The constriction around your throat vanished in an instant, and you gasped, desperately drawing in the breath you had been fighting for. The air tasted sharp, bitter, as if the world itself was trying to punish you for the terror you had just experienced.

And there he was—In-ho.

He stood over you, his face a mask of fury, eyes wild and unrecognizable with the force of his anger. His knuckles were white, gripping his fist tightly, as though the act of hitting the man who had attacked you had only just begun to settle in. His face was twisted in a way you’d never seen before. Something inside him was unraveling—breaking.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he turned on the man who had attacked you, and the sound of his fist meeting the man’s face was deafening. A sickening crack echoed through the room, sharp and cruel, as In-ho’s punch sent the man crashing to the floor. But In-ho wasn’t done. The fury inside him was a beast, a monster he couldn’t control. He grabbed the man by the neck, his fingers tightening with savage force, twisting, until there was an awful snap.

The sound of a life being crushed, broken beyond repair, sent a shockwave through your body. Your stomach turned violently, and your chest tightened, as though you could feel the man’s life draining out of him, just like your own hope of ever seeing In-ho as you once had. It wasn’t just the man who had died. In-ho had killed, and something inside him had died, too.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you couldn’t move. You stared at him, frozen by what he had just done, your heart racing as the gravity of the moment began to settle in. His chest heaved, each breath coming out ragged and uneven. But it wasn’t the man’s blood on his hands that terrified you the most. It was the look in his eyes. Dark. Soulless. As though he was searching for something—anything—to bring him back to the man he once was. But it was gone. That warmth. That kindness. All of it.

"In-ho..." you whispered, your voice cracking as you reached for him, but he wouldn’t look at you.

His gaze was distant, bloodshot, as though he couldn’t even recognize the person standing in front of him. For a brief moment, you feared you were losing him—losing the man you thought you knew.

And you couldn’t let that happen.

“In-ho,” you whispered again, more urgently this time, your voice thick with unshed tears. “Thank you. For saving my life. Again.”

His jaw clenched, the guilt settling into every line of his face. “I’m sorry, [Name],” he said, his voice breaking, and you could hear the remorse in every word, the weight of his actions pressing down on him. “I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head, your heart hammering as you let out a shaky breath. “What are you sorry for?” Your voice was stronger now, fueled by a strange mixture of anger and desperation. “That bastard almost killed me, and I’m glad he’s gone. I’m glad he’s dead. What’s there to apologize for, In-ho? You saved me. You did what had to be done.”

But In-ho’s gaze softened for only a moment before it hardened again, his hands curling into fists. He was still haunted by what he had done. You could see it in the tight set of his shoulders, in the way he stood, as though he was trying to hold himself together. But the cracks were showing, and you couldn’t let him fall apart in front of you. Not when you needed him most.

Before you could say anything else, the adrenaline that had kept you both on edge began to fade, and the weight of everything—the violence, the pain, the fear—settled into the pit of your stomach. You threw your arms around him, not caring about anything else. Not the blood, not the death, not the mess that surrounded you.

You held him tight, pressing your face into his chest as sobs wracked your body, uncontrollable and raw. “I thought I was going to die…” you whispered between breaths, your voice trembling with the weight of the fear you had felt. “I didn’t know... I didn’t know what was going to happen...”

In-ho didn’t say anything at first. He just held you, his arms coming around you in a protective, desperate way, like he was trying to shield you from the madness, from the horrors that were closing in on you both. His chest was shaking with the same unspoken terror, his breath ragged in your hair as he held you closer, as though afraid you might slip away if he let go.

You closed your eyes, pressing harder into him, the weight of his words sinking into your heart. But no matter how tightly he held you, there was a part of you that was already broken, already afraid that the man you had just seen—the man who had crossed a line he never should’ve had to—was never going to come back.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” he whispered, barely audible. “I couldn’t let that happen.”

You both stood there in silence for a long moment, caught in the aftermath of what had just unfolded, the weight of the violence and the fear finally catching up to you. But for the first time in what felt like forever, you knew—no matter what happened next, you weren’t alone.

After the third game, the group gathered in the makeshift fort Gi-hun had set up, each player lost in their own thoughts. The atmosphere was heavy as they processed the brutal reality of the games. Gi-hun asked Jung-bae to report the number of players who had voted to continue. The tally revealed 56 players had voted O, while the X team remained outnumbered by twelve votes.

In-ho suggested that if six players switched their votes, it would result in a tie, and seven switches would tip the scales in their favor. The tension was palpable as everyone prepared for the vote. When the results were announced, it was a tie. Relief spread through the group, prompting cheers, but their celebration was short-lived.

The guards announced that a tie meant another vote would take place the following day. Dinner was served, and while the group shared light moments to ease their nerves, the tension lingered, a silent reminder of the stakes.

That night, chaos erupted when a fight broke out in the bathroom between the two sides. The O team accused the X team of initiating the attack, while the X team retaliated with their own accusations. The conflict escalated quickly, spreading through the room like wildfire. By the time order was restored, Team X had gained an advantage, now numbering 48 players compared to Team O's 47.

“Two people died on our side,” Player 047 said grimly, sitting down. “We lost three overall, but we’re still ahead by one vote.”

Jung-bae tried to remain optimistic, his voice steady. “As long as we don’t change our minds, we’ll win tomorrow.”

Suddenly, the announcement broke the silence.

“Attention, please. Lights out in 30 minutes. All players, please return to your beds and prepare for bedtime.”

Player 047 turned to the group, his voice firm. “Listen, no one can change their mind, okay? We’ll win tomorrow. Stay strong, and we’ll make it through.”

The group murmured their agreement, but Gi-hun’s expression remained tense.

Dae-ho leaned in, glancing toward the opposing team. “Those guys are acting really suspicious. They’re planning something—I can feel it.”

Jung-bae waved him off. “Whatever. Once we win tomorrow’s vote, it’ll all be over.”

“No. Once the lights go out, they’ll attack us.” Gi-hun spoke, his voice calm but filled with tension.

The room went silent. Player 007’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, They know we’re at an advantage,” He said, voice steady despite the situation. “They’ll try to kill some of us tonight to even the odds and raise the prize money.”

“Then we should attack first. We need to take them by surprise,” In-ho suggested, his tone firm. His words were met with agreement from Player 047, who nodded and added, “We have the women and elderly on our side. If they attack first, we’ll be at a huge disadvantage.”

But Gi-hun raised a hand, his expression grim. “No. We can’t start a fight like that.”

The group turned to him, confused by his sudden objection. Gi-hun’s voice cut through the growing tension, calm yet weighted. “We need to stay calm. If we kill each other, that’s exactly what they want.”

“Who are they? Who are you talking about?”

“The makers of the game,” Gi-hun said bitterly, his eyes burning with anger. His words hung heavy in the air, silencing the murmurs around the room. “They’re the ones who want us to kill each other. They’re watching us right now.”

A chill ran down your spine as you processed his words. The room fell silent, each player lost in thought. Dae-ho broke the quiet, his voice tight. “Where are they?” 

Gi-hun slowly looked up, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “Up there,” he murmured, his voice barely audible but filled with conviction. You all follow. His eyes seemed to pierce the walls as though he could see straight into them. “The control rooms are above us. Their leader wears a black mask. If we capture him, we’ll have leverage.”

In-ho scoffed slightly, though there was no mockery in his tone. “How are you going to fight them? They’ve got guns.”

“We’ll take their guns.”

“From the masked men?” Player 246 asked, his disbelief evident.

Gi-hun nodded resolutely. “Yes. We’ll catch them off guard. They won’t expect it.”

“That’s too dangerous,” In-ho said, shaking his head. “Even if we manage to steal their guns, we’ll be outnumbered.”

Gi-hun’s gaze hardened. “What’s your plan, then? Sit around and wait to die? Watch as they pick us off, one by one? Is that your idea of survival?” His voice rose slightly, the desperation in his tone cutting through the tension.

The silence that followed was suffocating, each player wrestling with the grim reality of their situation. You could see some heads nodding in reluctant agreement, while others remained still, their fear paralyzing them.

Player 120 spoke up hesitantly, her voice trembling. “Do we even stand a chance?”

“We do,” Gi-hun said, his voice unwavering. “If we strike first, we catch them off guard. They’ll never see it coming. The people running this game think we’re powerless, but we have the upper hand now. This is our last chance to end these games once and for all.”

“How do you plan to take their guns?” In-ho asked again, his skepticism still evident.

Gi-hun didn’t hesitate. His determination was clear, as if he had already played the scenario out in his head. “Once the lights go out, we’ll have our chance.”

Lights out in ten.

The countdown began, the numbers pounding in your skull like the beat of a war drum. You lay stiffly on your bed, your muscles tense and ready to spring. Your heart raced as Gi-hun’s instructions echoed in your mind—Once the lights go out, get under the bottom beds quickly. You must not get caught by those planning to attack us.

You clutched the edge of the bed, your nails digging into the rough wood. The seconds dragged, each one stretching impossibly long, amplifying the terror building in your chest.

One.

The lights flickered violently before plunging the room into suffocating darkness. The sudden silence was deafening. You could hear every breath you took, each one louder than the last, as if your own body was betraying you.

For a brief, terrible moment, the room was still.

The silence was suffocating, a heavy void pressing down on you as though the darkness itself were alive. You held your breath, every muscle locked in place, straining to catch the faintest sound.

Then the chaos began.

Screams erupted, raw and animalistic, tearing through the suffocating silence like claws raking through flesh. Heavy footsteps thundered across the room as bodies scrambled and collided in the dark. The sound of someone slamming into a metal bed reverberated like a gunshot, followed by the sickening, wet crunch of bone meeting steel.

The sharp clang of makeshift weapons rang out, chaotic and dissonant, punctuated by the grotesque, unmistakable sound of flesh being pierced. It was chaos, raw and brutal, an orchestra of horror conducted by desperation.

You didn’t think—there wasn’t time to think. Instinct took over as you dove to the floor, crawling under the bed as Gi-hun had warned. Your breath came in short, panicked bursts, and you pressed yourself flat against the cold floor, willing the shadows to swallow you whole.

The room was a nightmare brought to life. The desperate shrieks of the dying mingled with the guttural grunts of attackers. Somewhere close, you heard a chilling, high-pitched laugh—a sound that sent icy needles of fear racing up your spine. The stench of sweat, blood, and raw terror filled your nose, a nauseating cocktail that made your stomach churn.

A body hit the ground nearby with a sickening thud, so close you could feel the vibrations reverberate through the floor. You froze, every nerve in your body screaming as you listened to their gasping breaths turn into choking, gurgling sounds.

You wanted to turn away, to block out the awful noise, but there was nowhere to go. Even pressing your hands over your ears couldn’t drown out the terrible symphony of suffering.

The screams were getting closer. You clenched your jaw, biting back a whimper as you pressed yourself tighter against the floor, your trembling fingers digging into the cold metal beneath the bed.

Your heart stopped when you felt it—a hand clamping down on your shoulder, strong and unyielding.

Your blood turned to ice, the chill spreading through your veins. Panic seized you, and you thrashed instinctively, your mind consumed by the singular thought that someone had found you. You opened your mouth to scream, but a second hand covered it before a sound could escape.

For a moment, terror blinded you, until a familiar face appeared as the lights flickered.

It was In-ho.

His expression was calm, but his eyes were sharp, scanning the room with laser focus. “Quiet,” he whispered, his voice low and urgent, barely audible over the chaos.

Relief swept over you, so sudden and overwhelming that it left you momentarily breathless. But it didn’t last. 

A bloodcurdling scream tore through the air, followed by the sickening sound of someone being dragged across the floor. You flinched violently, but In-ho’s hand tightened on your shoulder, grounding you. His grip was firm, steadying you even as your body shook uncontrollably.

The two of you stayed motionless, his presence the only thing keeping you tethered to reality as the violence raged around you. Every scream, every thud, every awful, wet crunch seemed amplified in the darkness, etching itself into your mind. You wanted to shut your eyes, to block it all out, but the terror kept them wide open, unblinking.

Gradually, the chaos began to subside. The screams turned into weak sobs, the sounds of struggle fading into an eerie, oppressive silence. Then came the mechanical hiss of the doors opening, cold and detached, signaling that the nightmare was over.

But you knew better. It was far from over.

In-ho’s hand finally relaxed on your shoulder, and you turned to him. His face was unreadable in the dim light, but there was something in his eyes—something fleeting, unspoken. Before you could say a word, he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Stay safe,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. Then, without waiting for a response, he crawled out from under the bed, disappearing into the shadows.

You stared after him, your mind struggling to process what had just happened. The display of affection, so sudden and unexpected, left you reeling. By the time you snapped out of your stupor, he was already gone.

The sound of gunfire shattered your thoughts, sharp and jarring, each shot echoing like a death knell in the enclosed space. You curled into yourself, covering your ears as tears pricked at your eyes.

Please let them be safe, you prayed silently, over and over again, the words a desperate mantra. Please let them succeed.

After a while, Gi-hun’s voice finally rang out—calm but commanding—it felt like the first breath after being submerged underwater. “Hold fire!”

The gunfire stopped.

Slowly, you crawled out from under the bed, your limbs trembling so violently it was a struggle to move. The room was a battlefield, littered with bodies and soaked in blood. Your eyes darted frantically, searching for one face, one person who mattered more than anything in that moment.

Your heart leapt when you spotted Jun-hee crouched nearby, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her wide eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Jun-hee,” you whispered hoarsely, stumbling toward her. You dropped to your knees, pulling her into a tight embrace. She clung to you like a lifeline, her body trembling against yours.

The two of you stayed huddled together, finding solace in each other’s presence, until Gi-hun’s voice called out again.

“It’s safe to come out now.”

When everyone was told to gather in the middle of the room, you lingered, pretending to adjust your shoes. Jun-hee gave you a worried glance, but you waved her off with a reassuring smile. “I’ll be right there. Just... something I need to do.”

She hesitated before nodding, her small frame disappearing into the growing crowd.

Your heart raced as you scanned the room, the chaos of bloodied survivors and flickering lights making it harder to find him. But then you saw him—a familiar silhouette, half-hidden in the shadows of a secluded corner.

In-ho.

He was focused, his movements precise as he disarmed a fallen attacker, slipping the weapon into his grasp. His stoic expression didn’t falter as he worked. Even now, in the aftermath of chaos, he was calculating, steadfast, and unshaken.

Your breath hitched. You knew this wasn’t necessary. You knew you should be with the others in the middle of the room like you’d been instructed. But the ache in your chest, the fear gnawing at your sanity, pushed you forward. You couldn’t leave without speaking to him—without feeling the warmth of his presence one last time.

When you spotted him in a secluded corner, hunched over a stash of weapons he was collecting from fallen players, your resolve solidified. Silently, you crossed the chaotic room, weaving past overturned beds and scattered bodies. Your heart thundered in your chest, not from fear, but from the weight of what you needed to say.

Without a second thought, you ran towards him, your steps quick and silent. When you reached him, you didn’t wait for him to notice you. You immediately threw yourself into his arms, catching him off guard.

“[Name]!” he gasped, his voice sharp with surprise as he caught you. He always caught you. His hands steadied you automatically, even as confusion flashed across his face. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be with the others. It’s not—”

Before he could finish, you cupped his face and kissed him deeply. The movement was so sudden, so full of everything you’d kept locked away, that it caught him off guard. He froze, his lips still against yours, the cold metal of the gun slipping from his grip and hitting the floor with a dull thud.

For a moment, he didn’t respond, and you thought your heart might shatter. Then, slowly, almost hesitantly, he kissed you back. His hands moved to your waist, holding you as though you might slip away if he let go. The kiss deepened, his lips trembling against yours, and you could feel the war inside him—the pull of his duty against the part of him that wanted to stay here forever.

His lips moved against yours, his hands gripping your waist as though anchoring himself to you. The kiss was messy, desperate, and full of everything you couldn’t say out loud.

When you finally pulled away, your breath mingling with his, your voice broke. “In-ho…” You could barely get his name out.

“[Name],” he murmured, his voice low and trembling. “You shouldn’t be here, you know that.”

“I don’t care.” You gripped the front of his jacket, your tears spilling freely now. “I don’t care about any of that. I needed to see you. I needed to know you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” he said, but his voice cracked, betraying the lie. His hands shook where they rested on your waist. “But you—you need to go back. You need to stay safe. I can’t…” He trailed off, his eyes darting away, as if meeting your gaze might break him completely.

“In-ho,” you choked out, clutching his jacket tightly. “Won’t you stay, In-ho? For me?” your voice crackled with desperation.

His breath hitched, and he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. For a second, you thought he might say yes. But then, his face crumpled, and he shook his head. “I can’t,” he said, his voice breaking. “I want to—I want to so badly. But I can’t. I have to help them, [Name]. I have to make sure they have a chance.”

You tried to hold back the tears, tried to be strong for him, but the floodgates opened anyway. A sob tore from your throat as you buried your face against his chest. His arms wrapped around you fully now, steady and grounding, even as your world fell apart.

Of course, this was In-ho. The one who always puts others before himself. The one who bore every burden silently, who carried the weight of guilt and responsibility like it was the only thing keeping him alive. This was In-ho—your In-ho. The man who had always been so much more than you deserved.

And yet, even if it hurt, you loved him for it. You always would.

“What about me?” you whispered, tears streaming freely down your face. “What about us? Don’t we matter?”

His hands came up to cradle your face, his thumbs wiping away your tears even as his own filled his eyes. “You matter,” he said, his voice trembling. “You’ve always mattered. More than anything. More than anyone. But if I don’t do this… none of us will make it out of here.”

“In-ho…” Your voice broke, and he pulled you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you tightly.

“I’ll come back,” he whispered into your hair, his voice unsteady but full of resolve. “I swear, I’ll come back to you.”

“Please,” you choked out, clinging to him like your life depended on it. “Please, In-ho, don’t make me lose you again. I can’t—I can’t do this… not without you.”

“You won’t lose me,” he said, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his own uncertainty. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering there as if trying to memorize the feel of you. “I’ll come back. I promise.”

Deep down, you both knew his promise was a fragile thing, held together by hope.

He leaned down, his hands trembling as they cupped your face. His lips met yours once more, this time in a lingering kiss, slow and deep, filled with everything he couldn’t bring himself to say. For a brief moment, the world seemed to pause. The chaos around you faded into a distant hum, and the weight of the moment lightened just enough for you to feel the depth of his love. A love as desperate and fleeting as the seconds you shared.

When he pulled away, his lips brushed against your forehead, a soft sigh escaping him as if the kiss had stolen the last of his strength. “I’ll be extra safe,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, though his eyes betrayed the agony tearing him apart. “I promise, [Name].”

The promise felt hollow, like a brittle shell barely holding together.

You nodded weakly, though every fiber of your being screamed at you to pull him close, to make him stay. But you knew. You knew who he was—knew that In-ho was the kind of man who always put others first, and there was nothing you could say or do to change that.

“I’ll come back to you,” he said, and the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips, as if he were trying to convince himself as much as you. “You have to believe that.”

Your voice wavered as you whispered, “I believe you, In-ho.” But the ache in your chest said otherwise.

He took a step back, his hands lingering on your arms before they fell away entirely. The warmth of his touch disappeared as he turned, moving toward the shadows with quiet determination.

Your heart shattered as you stood there, frozen in place, watching him walk away. It felt like every part of you was being ripped apart, your chest heaving with silent sobs. You wanted to scream his name, to demand he turn around, to beg him not to go. But the words caught in your throat, strangled by the raw, suffocating pain of letting him go.

As his figure grew smaller and smaller, the reality of what just happened sank in. The promise he made, the kiss he gave, the pain in his eyes—they all felt like goodbyes masquerading as hope.

As the silence closed in, the thought struck you with brutal clarity. This was the last time you would ever see him.

And it broke you, how painfully right you were.

[cathnospam]

Trigger warning to those that don’t like panic attacks, but becomes fluffy at the end

“Katsuki?”

His eyes were dark, he looks like he haven’t slept in weeks, and it’s only been a year since the war ended. Granted, everybody was finally able to sleep regularly again, but apparently you must have been wrong.

“I—“

He couldn’t get the words out, his fits were shaking from how hard we was clenching them, his tired eyes began to water, you knew.

“C’mere.” You pull him into your arms, you feel your shoulder dampening and it was a signal for you to squeeze tighter once you shut your door. You couldn’t even move feeling his arms squeeze tighter against your waist. “I’m right here.”

Even though Bakugo managed to live. Managed to pass though rehab, managed to become a big part of fighting against AFO he still has nightmares.

They started off as just seeing himself nearly die but he wakes up right before it happens. But now he’s having nightmares about you. How you took his place instead of him.

This nightmare he seen your body, lying there, tears dried by your eyes, by the time bakugo ran to you Shigiraki turned your body into dust.

It was horrifying.

He woke up in a frenzy, hot, sweating, immediately running out his room to your dorm, his heavy feet nearly sprinting to your room he needed to just double check he almost bust down your door if you haven’t opened it right as he arrived.

“You—-“

“It’s okay….you’re okay—“

“BUT YOU WEREN’T…you…you….” His voice was so shattered. He couldn’t explain it to you, but you had an inkling what he could’ve meant.

He has been going to your dorm a lot lately. Using the excuse “I’m just checking up on YOU.” But in reality it’s you checking on him. He’ll come right before bed and sleep over or come in while you’re sleep and lay on your couch and once with you on the opposite side of your bed.

You couldn’t move, hearing his sniffles tore your heart a little, his breathing was shallow you could feel his heart rate grow faster, his body was shaking and you immediately began to fall on your knees, back on the wall rubbing his back .”I’m right here Katsuki…it’s okay just match my breathing.”

Not wanting to panic either you regulated your breathing for him to copy you, his teeth were gritting to hard you felt it against your shoulder, “C’mon there you go…..just breathe….”

After a few minutes He began to calm down. Your shirt was damp with tears but you knew better than to force him to look at you. So you waited until he did the first move.

Bakugo covered his face with his palm, pausing before attempting to wipe all his tears off his face.

He failed.

You took his hand, palms so sweaty it was nearly slippery to hold up with a firm grip you guided him to your bed. “Stay here tonight.”

He didn’t reply nor negate, he just followed suit. He’d usually have his back facing you, but felt himself willingly fall onto your chest.

“They’re soft right?” You weakly joke about your breast he is laid on, trying to see if he’ll respond, you smile hearing a weak chuckle come out his nose before he snuggles himself between them deeper.

Your fingers run though his soft hair, his heartbeat was in tandem with yours as you felt his chest against your belly.

Bakugo usually handles his panic attacks alone, but for the first time he actually was so happy to have someone like you there with him. His teary eye peaks from the side, you wipe the remnant of tears from his cheek and he nearly melts to your touch.

It was probably the best sleep he has ever had in months thanks to you.

[oceantornadoo]

ch5 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

tw: more mild dubcon groping and fingering

masterlist | next

It’s been a while since John Price woke up with a woman in his arms. He can’t say he hasn’t missed it.

Your skin is soft, the addicting smell of lilac radiating off you in waves. You’re tucked into the nape of his neck like a cat, curling the rest of your body around him like you’ve been doing this for years, not days.

Gaz was right. He’s fucked.

The penthouse bed is a King, taking up half of the room. The two of you went to sleep on opposite sides, a chasm between you, but in the late hours, you’d somehow met in the middle. He wasn’t going to force you to consummate the marriage. John Price is many things, but not a rapist. He figured you’d get to know each other a little, at least respect one another, before doing the deed in a clinical matter. If he needed sex, which he didn’t really, he could go somewhere else. 

Except since the night at his club, he hadn’t been able to think about any other thighs but yours. Any other pair of tits, glistening with sweat and alcohol. That terrible tramp stamp, his mark on you like he was your owner. He didn’t know what to make of it, but your continued proximity worsened the issue with each passing day. It was worrying to think it would get worse every time you woke in his arms. He’d have to manage; it’s not like he’d let you sleep in separate beds.

John probably should get out of bed and do his morning workout before you wake up. Except the moment he tenses his muscles, preparing to slip out quietly, you whine. A pitiful sound. Such a needy kitty, he thinks absently. You hitch your thigh higher around his hip, nuzzling into his neck forcefully. He doesn’t think you’re awake unless he’s in some alternate reality where you stopped hating him overnight. The physical touch is…nice. Something he hasn’t had in a while. Can’t remember the last time he fucked something that wasn’t his hand, let alone cuddled in bed.

His arm rests possessively over your hip, the other one free at his side. Taking a chance, he reaches up to brush the soft skin under your eyes. No rhyme or reason to it, pure instinct to touch the sleeping face of his wife. His wife.

Maybe he should sleep in a little more. It’s something Gaz is always nagging him on. A man’s due some rest on his wedding morning. With that decided, he shuts his eyes, his thumb still on your face. A part of him memorizes the feel in case you never let him that near again.

-

You wake to a harder pillow than normal. Your body tenses on instinct. There’s no way. You slept on opposite sides of the bed. Right?

“Before ya scream, I hav’ a proposition.” It’s him. Under you, over you, his hand on your waist like a chain. The feral part of you whines at his raspy morning voice, the overwhelming warmth of his body, his bare chest, and the morning wood that’s poking your thigh. Maybe that’s why you only say, “Ok.”

He doesn’t comment on your newfound timidness. His other hand is on your face, stroking the skin of your cheek absentmindedly. It practically lulls you back to sleep, and you must still be drunk to let him continue without a reprimand. “Clean slate. For today, a honeymoon period, and after tha’, friends. Or friendly, if friends is too hard to manage. ‘Ve got too much on my plate t’ worry ‘bout my wife poisonin’ me at breakfast.” Friends. When was the last time you heard that word? Everyone you know is family or enemy, no in between. Price was firmly in the enemy category, but you’re not naive enough to think that hasn’t changed.

Conceding to your contract amendments. Rescuing you in the garden. An annoying argument at the club, but also guaranteeing you were safe. Taking you for a break at your wedding, making sure you were fed and not on the verge of collapse. Not forcing you to consummate your marriage. Not caring if you weren’t a virgin.

It’s all the bare minimum shit you’d expect from a regular man, a regular boyfriend. But nothing about this situation is regular. You know tens of mafia men worse than John Price. Your father, to name one. One’s that would take advantage of you without a second glance, wouldn’t give a damn about your bookstore or thoughts on children. Your childhood indiscretions aside, John Price seems to be a good man. It’s not like he’s asking you to love him or anything else out of the realm of possibility. Friends is good. Friends can be married, have sex, raise kids, and still be friends. There’s an example out there, it’s just not coming to mind.

-

“You sayin’ you only want to be friends because you’re too busy? What a glowing vote of confidence.” He sighs against you. He should have worded it better, but your proximity is throwing him off. It’s making him think of lazy Sundays and discovering what’s under your silk pajamas.

John went into this thinking you were a brat, another entitled mafia princess. It’s clear you’re much more. Having the gall to negotiate your marriage contract and sticking firm with your business. He’s seen the love you have for Ghost and Soap; a deep-seated dedication he knows must not be easy with your family history. And of course, he can’t forget your drunk confession at the wedding. How you blame him for some stupid thing he said as a teenager. Under all your bravado, there’s clearly a hurt little girl. Some part of him, the part he thought died when he shot his first kill, wants a real marriage. A real partner. 

John’s got no clue if you’re willing to give him a try romantically, but it’s worth a shot to at least be friends. He needs someone to rely on that’s not Gaz or Laswell. Someone he can let his guard down around and not get shot by.

-

“I worded it wrong. Friends ‘cause tha’s the only way this will work. Friends ‘cause we’re both now livin’ with a stranger, an’ we migh’ parent a kid together. Friends and partners.”

“Frenemies.” You respond automatically, thrown by his admission. He squeezes your waist, and it’s a sullen reminder that you’re wrapped around him like an octopus. You move to unwrap yourself, but he holds you tight with a scary show of strength. “Friends.” He repeats firmly. You’ve already agreed in your head, but he has to work for it.

“Do friends give honeymoon gifts? I’ve been expecting a gift for putting up with you and have yet to see one.” His hand stops swiping over your cheek, and you can’t control the frown that emerges. He dips lower to press his thumb against your lips, pushing hard until it meets your teeth. It’s strange and sends a shock down your spine. “Friends an’ you’ll stop whinin’.” His voice is harsh, but it’s countered with how his hand now travels the length of your jaw, back and forth hypnotically. “Friends and we order breakfast.” Finally, he nods. That’s it. Friends.

John lets you escape to the bathroom while he calls room service. Even after using the toilet, brushing your teeth and splashing water on your face, you still feel off-kilter. Your skin is hot, hands trembling. A honeymoon period? What the hell does that mean? You hate how your core clenches at the thought of having a real honeymoon with him. It’s a terrible fact, but you’re attracted to your husband. And by how touchy he is, he’s clearly attracted to you. Clean slate. It’s barely taxing to forget your prejudices against him, tucked away in a far corner of your mind. You square your shoulders, giving yourself a nod in the mirror. Friends that are attracted to each other. Nothing to it.

When you walk back into the bedroom, John sits up in bed, the room service tray on the side of the bed. The sheets have fallen to his waist, giving you a view of his delicious upper half. He clearly works out, but not to the point where he’s a bodybuilder. His pecs and torso are hairy but maintained, the perfect combination. As you approach the bed, he gets up with alarming speed and snatches you off your feet, propping you in his lap. It’s terrible and you try to squirm out of it but his grip is too strong, pulling you in further. “Honeymoon period.” He growls in your ear, to which you finally settle down. Guess this is what he meant. At least you’re sitting sideways and not straddling him. You’d never recover.

“This is not friendly, John. I can’t reach the food this way.” All he does is hum, bending over the side of the bed to look at the spread before you. Waffles, pancakes, fresh fruit, yogurt, eggs, and scones call your name. “Open.” When you blink, there’s a piece of egg on a fork in front of your face. “That’s not-,” he doesn’t let you finish, shoving the food into your mouth the moment it opens. You moan at the taste, ignoring how he stiffens beneath you. “Oh my god, that’s the best scrambled egg I’ve ever had.” John picks at another piece, securing it on the fork, before turning back to you. This time, you open your mouth obediently, rolling your eyes when he takes longer than a second to reach you. “Hurry up, I’m hungry.” He shakes his head, eyes glinting with mirth. “Magic word?” You huff, turning hangry. You grab the fork, but he’s got unmatched reflexes, holding it high over your head with a raised eyebrow. The motion pulls at the rest of his face, highlighting his beard and wrinkles. It’s terribly attractive. In a friendly way.

“Please, John, will you feed me like the incapable adult I am?” Your words are dripping with sarcasm but it’s enough for him. You moan around the fork again, and you both politely ignore his half-chubbed cock under your thighs. The cycle repeats, John switching from eggs to waffles to fruit. It’s taken you nearly a half hour to eat but he’s so insistent it’s hard to say no. Every time you swallow, he acts like you’ve solved world hunger. It’s doing terrible things to your ego.

“You’ve hardly eaten.” You murmur. He shrugs, finally settling the fork down. That fork deserves to be thrown into a fire and never seen again. It’s a torture machine.

“I’ll eat now. Go shower an’ get ready.” You pull yourself off his lap and he let you, hand dragging across your skin until you’re completely out of his reach. “Nah, think I’ll sleep a bit more. This awful man was snoring all night.” He snorts and it’s so unbecoming you snort as well. He doesn’t dignify it with a response.

“Goodnight- hey!” Instead, he’s stolen the covers from under you. You did marry a manchild.

“Shower an’ get ready. Ya wanted yer honeymoon gift, ain’t tha’ righ’?” A gift? You might be determined that he’s an asshole, but you are not strong enough to turn down a gift. With all the money he spent on the wedding, it better be something good. “Fine.” An hourlong shower ought to set him straight.

-

Two hours later, you’re finally ready.

Your mission to annoy your husband is successful. He’s been huffing under his breath the last half hour, checking his watch and texting on his phone. He threw on a spare suit from the closet, looking immaculate despite the gun you watch him tuck into his waistband. 

Meanwhile, you take the absolute most time to do your makeup. In fact, you switch out your jewelry three separate times. He told you to dress casually but you also cannot trust the words of a man, so you slip on a sundress and grab a cardigan in case it gets cold. At least Aunt Riley packed you plenty of options in the bags that were sent up. Against your better judgment, you slip on a pair of lace underwear. For confidence purposes only. You forgo any shorts under.

“I’m ready!” He grunts, picking up your purse before you even have the chance to. “Finally. Driver’s been waitin’ fer twenty minutes now.” Well, now you feel bad. “I would’ve hurried if I knew he was waiting. Your fault for not telling me.” He shrugs, hustling you out of the room with a hand on your back. He guides you into the elevator, and although it’s demeaning and infantilizing, a small part of you warms. 

“Can’t take off work fer the week so this’ll be y’r one-day honeymoon. Sorry about tha’, sweetheart.” You shrug, tilting your body slightly so he can’t see you smile at the endearment. At some point this week, it’s turned from venomous to heartwarming, chipping away at your campaign against him. “It’s ok.” He rests his hand on your waist and for a heartstopping moment, he leans in. He’s about to kiss your forehead. You both realize at the same time, pulling away to opposite sides of the elevator so his hand drops. Luckily, the elevator dings. You don’t know what would have happened without it.

He warns you it’s a long car ride. You both sit in the back seat, opposite sides, and you slip off your sandals to curl up against the car door. Using your cardigan as a pillow, you watch him through heavy-lidded eyes. He makes phone call after phone call, his accent getting thicker with irritation depending on the caller. John speaks English, but he says so many code names and unfamiliar locations that it sounds like a different language. The comforting sound of it lulls you to sleep, dreamless and peaceful. When you wake up, there’s a mansion outside your window.

“Is this…” You freeze, taking in the sight before you. Is this your new prison? You were hoping to postpone your new reality a little longer. He shakes his head as he opens your car door, shooing the driver away. “‘S a friend’s, not mine. He’s lendin’ us a building f’r tonight.” A building? His friend must be some kind of royal. The grounds are sprawling and well-kept, sparkling in the warmth of the sunset. John leads you down a path through the gardens, and you walk slowly to take it all in. They’re all native plants, at the end of their blooming season. Their scents make the air thick, a natural perfume, and you sniff each one individually. John doesn’t rush you, stopping every time you do. You swear he’s hiding a small smile under the beard, but he looks away whenever you squint at him. Half an hour later, you make it to the building he’s been guiding you to. It’s an observatory, a rounded glass ceiling visible from the outside. The sun is fully set, and as the clouds clear, stars start winking at you. A perfect night.

“Don’t get impressed yet.” He murmurs to your awed face. Instead of explaining why, he presses a silver key into your hand. Even though you were cuddling this morning, the shock of his touch sends a shiver down your spine. Mistaking it for cold, he nudges you towards the door. It unlocks smoothly, revealing a small entryway. It’s bracketed by dark wood on all sides, with old and uncomfortable furniture. He keeps pressing you forward until you stop at a large door, curved at the top like in a castle. “Open it.” He says when you don’t move. Hand shaking, you turn the knob, and almost faint at what’s revealed.

“‘S a remake of-” 

“The Admont Abbey Library in Austria.” The world’s most beautiful library. Instead of being made for public use, this one is for comfort. 

There are two, no, three stories of books on every wall. Instead of a fresco on the ceiling, its glass, giving you a direct view of the stars. Books line every nook and cranny, surrounded by a lighter and more appealing wood than the one in the entryway. There are chairs and sofas every few feet, worn but well-loved. A few steps further reveal a fireplace with a mountain of chairs surrounding it, a place to invite friends to discuss books over tea. A large clock hangs over it, chiming at every hour. There are staircases and ladders to reach the books on high shelves, and a closer look reveals they’re ordered by subject. Books from centuries ago and recently purchased ones mesh together in a wonderful rainbow of colors. 

“You like it?” He’s still standing by the first couch, almost awkwardly. A mafia man in a full suit with his gun tucked into his waistband, and yet it seems a library is what makes him look small.

“John, it’s- I don’t even know what to say. It’s perfect. And all mine for a night?” He shakes his head at that in a confusing manner. “Not jus’ a night…” No.

“John Price, did you buy me a library?” He has the nerve to look ashamed, cheeks pinking as he tucks his hands into his pockets. “My friend’s quite old, can’t go up an’ down the ladders anymore. He’s givin’ it to ya fer free, ‘s long as ya don’t sell anything. Can come ‘ere whenever you like.” A library, just for you.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You attack him with a hug. A friendly one, with your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. “Got it after th’ night in the garden. Figured I’d give ya a new home since I’m takin’ yer old.” A stray tear falls at his consideration. “Thank you.” You whisper this time, throat thick with more tears. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. Go explore.” You nod, climbing out of his arms. His thumb reaches out to wipe away a tear and you let him, granting yourself a reprieve from the exhausting practice of hatred for one night. “Go’on.”

-

You explore for hours.

John makes calls from couches, occasionally walking around until he spots you. You’re like a kid in a candy store, running from shelf to shelf with a grin on your face. He was worried it was too much, but it seems to have finally cleared the air between you two. The phantom weight of your hug clings to his skin, a memory he can’t shake off.

He didn’t admit to you that this is his manor, the one he goes to when he needs to get away. The way you hesitated when getting out of the car with fear in your eyes was unbearable. He didn’t want this to feel like another gilded cage. There’s only staff around anyway, and they’re under strict instructions not to say anything. As far as he’s concerned, this whole building is solely yours.

When he’s finally done remotely managing a crisis at one of his clubs, he ventures off to find you. It’s near midnight now and the stars are shining bright under the glass ceiling. When he finds you on the second floor, you’re bent over a desk, reading while standing like you’re so enthralled you couldn’t be bothered to properly sit. It’s the most attractive thing he’s ever seen.

Bent over, your dress barely covers your ass. John takes a silent step back on the staircase and sure enough, he can see a black scrap of lace cupping your cunt. He thanks your aunt for not packing shorts.

“Givin’ a man ideas standin’ like tha’.” It escapes his mouth before getting permission from his brain. John blames the whiskey he found in between calls. You snap your book closed at the sound of his voice, turning around and standing ramrod straight. “I stand or sit in weird positions when I’m reading. You’ll have to get used to it.” Instead of answering, he approaches you until there’s only an inch of space between your chests. You don’t flinch, a show of trust. Ever the challenger, you tip your chin up until your eyes meet, defiance sending a rush of blood to his cock.

“Turn around.” You do. Slowly. The book you were reading is still clutched to your chest like a shield. “Show me how ya were standin’.” He steps back to give you room. To his disbelief, you comply, bending over until a bit of lace peaks out. “Read t’ me.” A rough finger reaches out, touching the edge of the lace separating him from your cunt. He traces the seam of it, the outline of your folds straining against fabric. John decides to push the limit as far as he can during this honeymoon day, to make you want him as much as he wants you.

“‘But strange and marvelous as she was, a wisp of silk in a forest of black wool, she was’- John!” His finger had slipped under your lace underwear. You were so wet, dripping over his hand, and he wondered if you got off on this more than he did. If this was one of your secret fantasies, fucking in a library. “Tell me t’ stop.” You’re silent, too proud to ask him to continue, but too desperate to ask him to stop. Unperturbed, he starts swiping up and down like he’s familiarizing himself with the feel of your cunt. “Go’on.” You take a deep breath and continue.

“‘Not the fragile creature one would have her seem. In many ways she was as cool and competent as Henry’- oh fuck.” He’d pressed his thumb against your clit, hard. “Feel good?” You nod, barely keeping your head above your shoulders. “If this was our real honeymoon,” he moved his thumb down to your fluttering hole, dipping it in lightly for emphasis. You drop your head down to the desk, exhaling harshly. “I’d-” Ding!

The clock struck twelve. The end of your honeymoon period.

John removes his thumb slowly, putting your underwear back in place with care. He kisses your back, over where your Sharpie marks are, before pulling back completely. “Driver’s ready whenever you are, sweetheart. No rush.” And he’s gone, walking down the staircase.

He’d only continue if you asked him to.

-

i hope this isn't moving too fast but i really wanted some fluff and smut. if yall couldnt tell, this was inspired by that scene from beauty and the beast.

also the semester is starting back this week so my posts will become less frequent, pls bear with me :)

fifty points to who can tell me what book she was reading!!!

-

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[k1mbe3rly]

Could you write something about smut and Namgyu?

Payback

Namgyu x shy fem!reader

warnings: smut, rough sex?

(kinda short 😣👎)

During the six legged pentathlon, Thanos and Nam-gyu technically just picked you up from there and that’s how you got in there group along with, 2 others. You were LOWKEY scared as hell to be in these games. After yall survived the six legged pentathlon you were just kind sitting there until it finally ended.

Everything was going great, quiet besides the sound of people whispers and finally it was time for voting, you were standing in the crowd watching people vote, until nam-gyu turned around facing you and Min-su, “Y’all better not fuck this up.” he claimed staring at the both of y’all, Min-su did a small ‘huh?’, Nam-gyu grabbed onto the little ‘X’ that was on the left side of his chest “This” he said lifting it up and slightly pulling it, he turned over to you grabbing your ‘X’ as well, “Like we agreed. we do one more, and then we get out, Right?” he said as you and Min-su did a small glance at each other, and Min-su nodded.

Nam-gyu turned his gaze to you getting a bit closer “One more. right princess?” he said smirking a bit, and slightly punishing back the ‘X’ into your chest as you sighed and nodded.

he winked at you before looking away and soon enough it was time for your vote as you walked up there and looked behind to see Nam-gyu making a ‘O’ shape, you looked back and thought for a minute before finally clicking on.. ‘X’, You went to the X side while avoiding contact with Nam-gyu

“Bitch..” he mumbled out, 30 minutes before lights out he went up to you grabbing onto your jacket collar “Who do you think you are huh?! i told you one more fucking game, didn’t i!?” he yelled into your face, “I-I’m sorry! i just don’t wanna die! i wanna go home already!” you yelled out. “Nice try bitch. but you fucking have to stay here now, With me. You really tried leaving didn’t you!” he yelled out as his friend Thanos or whatever grabbed onto his shoulder “Leave it man we got other things to worry about besides this” he said clearly drugged up, Nam-gyu looks at him and than looked back at me, he shoved me away slightly “Your gonna fucking pay for this” he said before walking away, you looked away in a bit of shock and scared.

It was until the middle of the night you woke up feeling the urge to pee.

you walked up to the door and knocked on it before the guards stared at you thru the slid window, fast forward you managed to beg them to let you in and now you were in a stall.

Once you finished you were washing your hands until the door opened and closed, you looked up into the mirror seeing Nam-gyu, you quickly widen your eyes and turned around, he walked up to you calmly, “How’d you get in here?! t-this is the girls bathroom pervert!” you yelled out “So?, doesn’t matter to me. What matters to me is that you picked ‘X’.” He said looking into your eyes, “Either way we’re still here! you guys won!” you said back. “And yet..your still gonna fucking pay” he said getting closer grabbing chin and slammed his lips into yours, you stood there for a moment before finally giving in and kissing back

The kiss was a bit rough and harsh as you placed a hand onto the sink, he quickly pulled back shoved you on the ground onto your knees, you looked up at him in confusion until you saw him pull his sweats down along with his boxers, revealing his cock that sprung out perfectly, "Open." He said Down to you, you opened up your mouth while he grabs your hair and pulls your mouth onto his cock, you quickly started sucking it as you looked up at him, as he continued to stare down at you biting his lip “Fuck.. who knew you were so good at sucking dick huh? you do this a lot hm?” he said gripping your hair tightly and guiding your head as he groaned and leaned his head back, as you swirled your tongue around, you were running out of air and tried pulling back but he wouldn’t let you, instead he started mouth fucking you, shoving his dick deep inside your throat making you gag on it a bit, your eyes started tearing up a bit as you placed your hands on his hips trying to push him back, “Fuck! take this dick down your throat bitch!” he yelled out as his cock twitched, he let out more groans before cumming into your mouth.

You quickly backed up panting, your mouth of his cum, “Swallow it, i wanna watch you like the whore you are” he said, you quickly tried to swallow it as you gasped and panted a bit, he shoves you up and bent you the counter leaving you to see your reflection to the mirror “Nam-gyu-!” you tried speaking “Shh. shut the fuck up! i’m not done with you” he said shoving your pants down and your panties and quickly lined up his tip against your entrance, he wasted no time shoving it in as you moaned out, he chuckled at your reaction and placed his hands on his hips as he begin thrusting, his thrust were hard and fast, as he looked down seeing his dick go in and out, and his hips slamming onto your ass, he slapped your ass and looked back into the mirror seeing you moaning and looking down as he reached and grabbed your hair pulling it back “I wanna see your pretty face while i fuck you, mkay?” he said while still slamming into you, you nodded as you gripped onto the sink “Nam-gyu! too much! s-slow down!” you said, he ignored you as he went a bit faster groaning, “Fuckk! take it! take this fucking cock.” he said pulling onto your hair more making your head go back as you felt your orgasm rise “M’gonna cum!” you moaned out as he slapped your ass, not long after you came as he kept going for a small bit and finally cummed as well, panting he let go of your hair.

He stared into you in the mirror as he breathed heavily, he slowly pulled out watching his cum mixed with your eyes spill out, he chuckled at the sight and quickly pulled his pants back up “Next time pick ‘O’ or ima fuck you in front of everyone.” he said, you looked at him, “You’ll probably like that anyways.” he said walking away, before he left he looked back at you smirking at bit than walking out the door, leaving you there as you collected all your thoughts.

[stormberry-12]

snooze fest ~ lando norris x reader

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

warnings: slight language, illusions of sex.

Lando rolled over groggily, a yawn escaped him as he reached for his phone on the bedside table. He cursed silently when he saw the hour, almost 10 am. Suddenly awake he rolled over excitedly only to be hit with empty, cold space. His heart immediately sank.

You were nowhere to be found in the spot where you had fallen asleep the night before. He didn't get it, what had gone wrong?

Sure, it was only your second date. However, he thought the two of you had something different, especially after last night. The thought of you made him instantly giddy. You were gorgeous, smart, and witty...

He was utterly obsessed with you.

But you had left.

Lando managed to drag himself out of bed, he wasn't usually a coffee drinker but today he felt like he needed one. He pulled on a pair of sweats over his boxers and shuffled his way to the kitchen. As the coffee brewed his mind went back to spiraling.

Did you assume that he wanted you gone?

Was that where his reputation had led him?

He had most seriously just fumbled the girl of his dreams.

He opened the fridge and hauled the jug of milk over to the counter, pouring a splash into his mug. Picking up the mug he sighed, over to the living room he walked, with coffee in hand. He sat down on the couc-

"Ow!"

Lando jumped, "OWWIE!"

Hot, sizzling coffee dripped down his chest as he sprang up off the couch, "You scared the shit out of me!"

"You sat on me!" you countered, emerging from the blanket you had been hiding under and rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

"What are you doing here?" he asked still in shock.

"Oh, um- sorry I can leave. I didn't realize how late it was," you mumbled, flushing embarrassed.

Shit. "No, no, no don't leave!" Lando waved his hand frantically, walking to place his mug on the coffee table. "I uh-" his voice trailed off into the kitchen and you followed. "I just meant what are you doing on the couch?"

You looked at him, attempting to wipe the coffee from his clothes, "You snore."

He stared at you blankly, relief flooding through his body that you were still here. Standing right in front of him. He giggled, "Oh, sorry bout' that."

"No worries, I punched you to try and make you roll over-"

"That's why my shoulder hurts-"

"Yeah..."

He stared at you and chuckled sheepishly, "I was actually disappointed when I woke up, I thought you had left. Happy I sat on you..."

You rolled your eyes, walking towards the fridge, "Saying you wanna keep me around Norris?"

"Definitely. Oh, I wouldn't open that-"

You stared into the almost-empty fridge, all that lined the shelves was a carton of milk and pre-prepped meals in plastic containers.

"Huh. I didn't strike you as the type to be on the meal-planning-mom side of TikTok,"

"Shut up," he chuckled, striding over to you.

You sniffed the contents of an already open bottle, "What is this? Crack?"

"Protein shake, I know boring-"

"Snooze fest," you mumbled in agreement.

"Well, no point in just staring at it any longer," He slammed the fridge shut and kissed your temple, "C'mon! Get dressed and we can go get something to eat. Maybe stop at the convenience store..."

"What do you need to get at the convenience store?" you asked as he walked toward his bedroom.

"Earplugs!"

[justwonder113]

Han drunkenly confessing to you

Inspired by this ask

Summary: When Chan calls you at 2 am to pick up drunk han because he is asking for you the last thing you expect is for Han to confess his love for you. warnings: CHAOS! Idiots to lovers, (Both reader and Han(mostly Han) are idiots.) Reader is gender neutral. Cursing to no one's surprise. Kissing. Han being somewhat drunk. Teensy tiny amount of angst. Reader almost having a mental breakdown from all the chaos. Somewhat proofread. let me know if I missed anything A/N- Happy new year lovelies! I wish you all the best! Please take care of yourselves and drink lot's of water. Thank you all for all the love and support you have given me, it really means a lot to me. Word count- 2.4 k

Masterlist

If you like my work you can buy me coffee🩷

You know how people put most bizarre things in their resumes? Like stuff they only did once and they wrote it down like they had some kind of PhD in that field? Well next time you if you decided to change jobs or just apply to a new one you would write down that you had an experience and could deal with being friends with Han Fucking Jisung! That is if he survived this day. Because what do you mean you were heading out to get his drunk ass home because this grown ass man was actually crying and asking for you in the damn club at two fucking am! You were so beating his ass once he got sober.

You were seeing such a great dream too. You and Han were actually together and didn’t have this weird ass relationship you two had right now where there were no literal boundaries and you didn’t have to question every day If he was returning the feelings or if you were delusional and he was just extra friendly and overall simply comfortable with you. He was quite touchy and flirty with boys too after all. So you could imagine how much headache this could bring in.

 Anyway, to stop with your let’s just say unfortunate love life and get to the point you were pissed. You really were looking forward after a shitty week sleeping in and actually resting. That’s why you didn’t go to the club with the boys in the first place. How much did he actually drink to be actually crying and asking for you? What was he, a toddler asking for his mommy? Or better yet what was up with you being actually in love with this man?

The club was quite crowded for 2 am. The neon lights of reds blues and greens kept flashing rhythmically. The shouts of laughter and the hum of conversation mixed with the music creating a bit of chaos but well it was a normal atmosphere for a club. As soon as you walked in the smell of cocktails mixed with perfume and sweat of the crowd immediately hit you. It was a bit headache inducing but it was tolerable, as long as you left soon. You started searching for your friends with your eyes which was quite hard at first the crowd really kept shifting and mingling with each other. People really looked like they were having time of their life and you, with the, I just woke up and I’m mad as hell face, surely sticked out like a sore thumb.

Thankfully you found the boys quickly. It wasn’t hard giving they were loudest in the whole establishment as always. They were by the entrance and thankfully everyone looking ready to leave.

As for the man child who was the main reason you were here in the first place, he was clinging to Minho yapping about something. He wasn’t crying now but his eyes really looked puffy and red. Honestly how much did he drink? Others looked normal. Well tired like they were already hungover but still normal. Minho really looked like he was seconds away from smacking him. Yes smacking him, he even managed to rile Minho up. God, what a lightweight.

Han must have noticed you because one second you were looking at his face light up and him call you baby on top of his lungs and the next second he was basically on top of you. He literally hugged you witch such force it was a miracle you were standing on your feet and didn’t fall over.

“Han be careful!” You hear Chan warn him, he sounded tired.

“I’m fine.” You mustered to croak out once Han let go a bit to check if you were fine, he still returned to hugging you but at least you could breathe now. He really must have missed you. God you really wanted to kiss him. All your anger and grumpiness immediately flew out the window. Good for him he was so cute or else you would have smacked his head for bringing you here. “How are you Hannie? A little birdie told me you were asking for me.”

Han looked at you with his wide boba eyes, his lips jutted out in the cutest pout ever. “Better now that you’re here. They are literally so mean baby, I’m glad you’re here. You’re my favorite.”- Han whined out and hugged you again. You looked at others who looked so done, only Minho looked bemused, he held his phone up and recorded Han whine to you. You looked at him with raised eyebrow as you patted Han’s back to calm him down.

Minho only shrugged, “I’m showing this to him when he asks me for something. You’re in charge now since you’re his favorite.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Babe we both know that your softie ass is immediately going to cave in and do what he wants anyway.”

Minho glared at you, unamused by your comment but you didn’t really pay any mind to it, you had your attention to Han who stopped hugging you and went to Felix instead. He looked like he was about to start crying again any second now.

“Hannie baby what’s wrong?”

“You hate me!” His bold statement was followed by the most dramatic sob and collective sighs of being done from his friends.

“Why would you think that?” You were genuinely so confused. You had no idea what you did wrong.

Han glared at you for a second and returned to hugging Felix who was barely holding his laughter in. Not much to your surprise he quickly gave in. “You called Minho babe. You’re basically replacing me, you really must hate me.”

What now? You couldn’t help but blink in confusion because what the fuck was up with that logic. You really looked at him with a deadpan expression before the realization of what he said really dawned on you.

You tried, you really tried to hold your face together and not just burst out laughing, but you’re only just a human after all.

With the most teasing voice and biggest smile ever you used the chance to tease him, because let’s be real, pouty and sulky Han is the cutest Han. “Are you jealous baby?”

Han gasped and let go of Felix, he actually looked at you like he was mad now. Mad and maybe seconds away from crying which harshly puled on your heartstrings.

“I am! I’ve been in love with you for years and you’re calling Minho babe here!” He yelled and stormed off outside the club leaving you there shocked not knowing what to do. The boys also looked like they didn’t know what to do, only Minho was laughing his ass off and Hyunjin also looked like he was barely holding in his laughter in.

So he was jealous.

Oh.

Oh.

He said he loved you.

Han Jisung said he loved you.

The Han Jisung loved you.

He returned your feelings.

The boy you had been in love with for ages loved you back.

“HAN JISUNG GET YOUR ASS HERE!” You yelled as you chased after him. All seven of the boys cheering after you and encouraging you to get him. You would get to them later.

Thankfully he hadn’t gotten far, it might have taken you a second or two to let everything sink in. Han was closeby sitting on the sidewalk, pretty tears running down his rosy cheeks, what a silly boy, he even forgot to bring his jacket. You sat close to him thinking for a second of what to say to him, while also trying to warm him with your body head. He looked cold.

“If you want to tease me please go inside. I already feel like shit.” His voice was so raw and he looked so pained. It really hurt to see him like this. He sighed. “I need a minute okay? I will be fine I’m not that drunk anymore.” He took a pause. “I mean how can I be after the shit I said, God I am stupid!” You watched a tear run down his face. Before you could even realize what you were doing you reached and gently brushed away the tear. Han looked at you with tearful eyes.

“Maybe but who am I to judge? I mean, I didn’t even realize that my best friend, the man I had been in love with for god knows how long actually returns my feelings.”

God you said it. You actually admitted your feelings.

A pause.

Oh no, was he regretting it?

Was it something he just said because he was drunk?

You were startled out of your thoughts when Han literally slapped both of his cheeks. His skin immediately flushed angry red.

“What the fuck are they putting in these drinks? Actually making me hallucinate and shit.” Was he for real? You couldn’t hold yourself back so you smacked his arm.

Ignoring his whining you quickly got up and started to yell. “Han Jisung I did not just say I’m in love with you for you to think this is some kind of fucking hallucination! Do you know how much courage it takes to actually admit your feelings?” Han looked at you with wide eyes for a second then quickly got up too almost losing his balance for a second.

“Wait are you for real? You love me? You mean it?” - He asked with trembling voice.

You couldn’t believe your ears. “Of course I mean it? How can I joke about something like that?”

A second passed then two.

“Dude are you kidding me? How are you in love with me. Do you have no standards? You’re like a fucking deity, someone people should fucking worship the fuck you mean you love me? Raise your standards!”

God you needed to be paid for this shit but no amount would be enough. This whole situation made you want to pull your hair out one by one, or maybe scream on top of your lungs, or maybe actually hit him because what the fuck was this?

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” You actually couldn’t help but yell, you didn’t give a crap that you were in the middle of street and it was 2 am and maybe some people were actually asleep.

“NO?”

“I WILL ACTUALLY BEAT YOUR ASS!” You took a deep breath. You reminded yourself that he was somewhat drunk. You needed to stay calm for your own sanity at least. “Han when people tell you that they love you back you at least should be grateful that they return your feelings. The last thing you want to do is to tell them to raise their standards. Because frankly all I wanted to kiss you but now all I’m thinking about is how to hold back and not to beat your ass! You’re literally perfect what the fuck are you on about?”

You watched as the biggest grin appeared on his face. It was like his whole mood shifted. “You want to kiss me?” Okay you really wanted to hit your head against a wall now.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of this whole situation. “Do you only hear what you want to hear?”

Jisung, still grinning got closer to you and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Maybe.” -he mused. “All I heard is that you want to kiss me. And I have wanted to know what it is like to kiss you since I met you. You don’t know how irresistible you are.” His voice was so sweet and tender your heart was going crazy. And it didn’t help when he leaned in and put his forehead against yours.

“I could say the same to you dumbass.” You sighed against his lips. When did he even get so close?

“Can I kiss you?” Han asked as his gaze kept shifting from your lips to your eyes.

Feeling impatient to actually answer you grabbed him by his cheeks and finally connected your lips.

Kissing him was so much better than you could have thought. His lips were cold and chapped but they felt so nice as they moved against yours. You couldn’t help but sigh in pleasure. You didn’t know who deepened the kiss but soon your tongue met his and you almost melted. He tasted so sweet. You could even taste fruity cocktails he must have had earlier on his lips. But there was something more, something purely just Han, which made you fall in love with him even deeper if it was possible. You could already feel yourself getting addicted to kissing him.

Soon you had to lean back for some air, seeing Han whine and actually chase after your lips made you smile, your heart feeling whole. You didn’t even remember why you were mad earlier. You just gazed at him lovingly his arms tight around you as your hands were still on his cheeks. His cheeks felt so warm against your cold hands, it must’ve still stung from his slap. You tried to soothe it as you gently caressed his skin. Loving how he leaned into the touch. Shaking your head a bit. Not in a million years could you imagine something like this could happen to you. Life sure is full of mysteries.

You two were brought back to reality by cheers and hollers of your forgotten friends. Oops? You immediately covered your face leaning into the hug more to hide, unable to look any of them in the eyes, feeling beyond embarrassed. Han chuckled and hugged you closer.

“This had to be one of the most painful confessions I have ever seen.” Seungmin deadpanned as others kept clapping and cheering for you.

“Like you had seen a lot of them.” Minho quipped back quickly.

“At least they finally got it over with.” Hyunjin chipped in.

“Tell me about it, it was painful to watch them.” Now it was Innie’s time to say something. Did they all have to say something?

“Oh by the way I recorded all of this, I’m playing this at your wedding.” Felix waved his phone.

Chan grinned. “Or we can show it to their children in the future.” He teased as Changbin cackled like a possessed witch.

God you were so done with these clowns.

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated^^

If you like my work you can buy me coffee🩷

Taglist: @velvetmoonlght @notastraykid (If you want to be added to my taglist feel free to tell me^^)

[aninipanin1]

Miss Manager's Miscellaneous Shenanigans

Being the manager of Blue Lock had its pros and cons, but one thing's for sure: doing your chores is easier when you have the whole facility simping at your feet.

Notes: Manager Reader is female, but I rarely use pronouns, so any gender may work for this. Manager Reader IS age 16-17, so her love interests would only be those near her age. Anyone else who is older than 20 will be platonic.

ISAGI YOICHI

It was yet another day in the Blue Lock Facility. But, compared to other days before, the air was a little hotter than usual. Even if the facility was rather closed off and most of the inside was air-conditioned, the vents still bring in the air from the outside. Unfortunately for most of you, the temperature outside was hot, and everyone who entered the training fields could immediately feel the sweat start to form even if they have not played yet.

As the manager, you immediately responded to this. Cleaning off the tumblers and filling each of them up while also preparing fresh and clean towels to bring to the many training fields scattered around the facility.

"30 down, another 30 to go."

You could not help but sigh, feeling your arms go numb as you held up another empty tumbler on the water fountain provided in one of the kitchen areas. You found yourself looking at anything around the area to distract yourself, but it's like there was anything interesting about kitchen tools, drawers, or table islands.

"Y/n-chan, do you need any help?"

You hear a familiar voice as you turn around to find Isagi, who offers a polite smile, with his Blue Lock bodysuit on, probably just finishing his training.

"Oh no, no, it's fine. I don't wanna intrude. You should probably just get some rest before taking a shower."

You reciprocated his smile, putting the dozens of towels and tumblers on a pushcart for easy travels. But the boy insisted, grabbing a few bottles and towels himself and putting it on another cart.

"It's fine, Y/n-chan! I can use the small workout pushing these things. And besides, how are you gonna push more than 3 carts by yourself?"

You stopped at that, looking at the 5 carts you prepared, one for each stratum as you mentally sighed.

"I was planning to do many back and forth travels, but you know what? One travel with a little help would be much more better, wouldn't it?"

Isagi laughed at that and agreed, carrying more tumblers to another cart. You just smiled at that, a little happy for the help.

Meanwhile, all that Isagi can think about is the fact that he had another advantage to win you. After all, who would not love a gentleman? Besides, seeing the happy smile on your face was enough to make his day a little brighter.

Today was really not Isagi's day. His pinky toe was hurting when he woke up for some reason, which lessened his performance that day, adding to that was the hot day as well. But hey, at least he got to help you and see you smile.

BACHIRA MEGURU

"What's wrong, Y/n-chan?"

You turned your head to Bachira, who was pouting, his golden eyes wide and curious with a hint of worry.

"Nothing's wrong, Bachira-kun."

"Don't lie..! Your is turned upside down! My monster told me that you're probably sad."

You blinked at that. You thought you hid the fact that you were a little down that day. You just received a text message from your mother that, unfortunately, your cat (C/n) just passed away due to food poisoning, and you were heartbroken.

But, of course, your job must go on, and you wanted to remain professional. Well, until Bachira seemed to take notice of the fact that you have been preventing yourself from looking sad.

"Don't worry, Y/n-chan! You can talk to me, remember? I don't like it when you're sad."

"Thanks, Bachira. It's just that my mom texted me yesterday, and um, well, she said my cat died. And, I just didn't want my feelings to get in the way of work, so I tried to keep it."

"Oh, I'm sorry-"

"No, no its fine. In fact, I'm quite happy that you were willing to listen."

You gave a small yet much more genuine smile, noticing that he looked quite guilty that when he found out the real reason behind your sadness.

He let out a grin before opening his arms and wrapping it around you. You tend to always forget he was quite the muscular guy, probably from all the practice. His childish and bright personality always made you feel comforted, yes, but you also underestimated him. But nonetheless, his hug was warm. Soothingly so, and it made you tear up.

Until you were now full-on sobbing on his shoulder. Perhaps it was because of the loss, but maybe the homesickness and pressure of everything weighed down on you at the same time along with the grief. You did not know.

But what you did know was that Bachira comforted your weary and grieving soul.

He swayed his upper body along with yours, hoping the movement may help calm you a bit. And it did as you slowly picked yourself up, sniffing and wiping your tears away.

"T-thank you, Bachira-kun. I really needed that."

He grinned again before patting your hair.

"No problemo! My mom always said hugs can always heal any sadness away!"

You smiled at that.

"Your mom is correct. It really did."

His smile widened at the now lighter smile on your face, his pointer fingers now pulling the sides of your mouth higher as he cheered.

"Now you're happy for realsies!! You're prettier like this, Y/n-chan, especially when your eyes are also smiling."

CHIGIRI HYOMA

"Are these all the laundries?"

You turned to the occupants of the room, Reo was currently out of the room, probably training, leaving only Nagi who was laying on his bed, sleeping away and Chigiri, who was drying his hair from a shower.

The redhead smiled and nodded his head before turning his head at Nagi, who was passed out. And around his messy bed were his dirty socks, sweaters, and other dirty laundry. The lazy genius did not find the energy to put all of it in one basket, causing it all to be scattered in his side of the room.

"Oi, Nagi! Pick up your damn clothes and put them in one basket. Be thankful Y/n-chan is already doing your laundry for you!"

"Don't want to. 'Ts a hassle."

And he fell asleep again, making a vein pop in Chigiri's forehead. Meanwhile, you just laughed and shook it off.

"It's fine, Chigiri-kun. I'll just pick it up."

Chigiri rolled his eyes at this, not agreeing with how forgiving and patient you were to the white-haired striker. He put the blowdryer down before heading over to your figure that was already picking up the dirty laundry of Nagi's.

"I'll help you. I feel kind of bad."

You blinked before giving a smile that made him smile as well. He felt quite bashful while also impressed. How can someone be so calm and understanding towards everyone? He would never understand that. Maybe it was because he was quite intense, and at times, demanding?

But, he was quite happy and satisfied that someone like you was the manager of this whole Blue Lock thing. You were so approachable and easy to the heart and even eyes that even he, someone quite guarded, found it easy to rely and talk to you.

"Thanks, Chigiri-kun!"

As you two picked it up, you could not help hut laugh whenever Chigiri would flick a sweater in Nagi's face or "accidentally" dropping a dirty sock on the genius' nose, out of spite.

Nagi just shrugged this off, thinking that caring is also a hassle.

"Thanks for picking it up for me, Chigiri."

Nagi muttered in his sleep which just pissed the redhead off.

"I did it for Y/n-chan, not for you, you idiot!"

MIKAGE REO

"I have to what?!"

"I'm so sorry, Y/n-chan, I know you're already so busy but, the JFA insisted for this to be submitted tomorrow."

You blinked at the pile of papers you needed to read and edit and somehow submit to the JFA Union tomorrow, and it was already noon, too. How will you even finish this?

Nevertheless, work is work, so you accepted, asking Anri to put the papers in your desk. For the rest of the day, you just focused on the paperwork, zoning out of reality and time to just hopefully meet the harsh deadline that loomed upon you.

"Y/n-chan! Have you seen - oh, sorry, did I interrupt you on something?"

Looking up from your desk, you found Reo peeking his head from your office door. You gave him a polite smile, tilting your head.

"No, its fine, Mikage-kun. How may I help you?"

"Eh, I already told you, Y/n-chan. You can just call me Reo. Oh, and I just wanted to ask if you know where Chris Prince is? I have a few questions for the training regime we have."

"Oh, right, sorry. And, I heard he and the rest of the masters have a meeting with Anri-san and Ego-san. They would probably be over in a bit."

He nodded at that before he looked at your face that screamed, stressed. Your hair was in a messy hairstyle, with your baby hairs and other strands falling on your face. Your eyes looked weary, with bags under them.

"What are you doing? You don't look too good."

"Ahh, these? These are reports made by Anri-san and Ego-san. I'm the one who's gonna edit all of these for the JFA. It was supposed to be passed next month, so we weren't in a rush, but then they moved it to tomorrow, so here I am."

Reo winced at the thick pile of paperwork. He just stood there for a bit until a smile broke out of his face. He did not need to contemplate. After all, he was always willing to help you.

"Come on, I'll help you with that, Y/n-chan."

"Eh? But, I don't want to intrude-"

"You aren't! I don't like how you're stressing over this. Besides, I do have experience with professional reports because of my father's company, I'll be fine!"

You were ready to say 'no' again, but he was ahead of you, picking up half of the papers and finding a chair to sit on beside you.

"Reo-kun-"

Then you felt a pinch on your cheeks as Reo pinched both of your cheeks lightly, chuckling at the cute expression on your face.

"Shhh, I already told you, it's fine. Just focus on your work, okay?"

"Ehkway.."

You bashfully said as he continued pinching your cheeks. Reo could not help himself. You were too adorable when you acted all mature and responsible.

NAGI SEISHIRO

"Finally. This week was so busy."

You found yourself walking like a zombie towards your room. As you passed by the dining halls, your ears picked up the sounds of hushed gunshots and shouts like someone was playing. Peeking your head at the door, you found a familiar mop of white hair sitting on one of the chairs, head and arms on the table, said arms stretched out and tapping on his phone.

"Nagi-kun? Why are you still here? Lights off is in an hour."

The boy perked up, as he lifted his head when he heard your voice.

"Y/n-chan...It's just a hassle to stand up and walk to bed."

He pouted at the notion of even standing up from his position. You sighed at this, knowing the tendencies of Nagi. He was not called "Lazy Genius" for nothing, after all. Sitting down beside him, you were prepared to pull whatever words you can from your brain to hopefully convince him to head to the rooms or else, Ego would probably scold him.

But, you couldn't help but watch how effortlessly aim and shoot in the games he played. For someone who found moving or even thinking of the notion of moving was a hassle, he moved his fingers across his phone screen quite flawlessly. He was skilled and agile on his hands and you cannot help but be impressed.

"You're really good at this, Nagi-kun."

"Meh, I missed a guy earlier."

You chuckled at that and patted his hair, which made him scratch his head against your hands, resembling a cat. That only urged you to pat his head more. His hair was quite soft even with all the tangles, seeing as he was probably too lazy to brush his hair.

"Your hands are warm and soft. Y/n-chan. I like them."

"Eh, um thank you..?"

You did not know if you were supposed to take that as a compliment, but you just did. Then he turned his head to you, offering his phone.

"D'you wanna play?"

"Huh? Oh no, I'm not really good on games like that."

He tilted his head at that.

"It's fine. You said you like rhythm games, right? You have the instincts and skills to move your fingers accurately already, so you'll learn fast on this. I'll help you."

"Oh, okay, if its okay with you."

You accepted his phone, albeit unsurely. He moved his head to rest on your shoulder to watch and spectate on your gameplay, teaching you what to use and what not to use. Even giving tips on how to better your aim or how to find opponents fast.

It was a calming experience. Nagi was a really good teacher when it came to games, very straight to the point and simple with his words. His voice was quite calming, too, not low but definitely a bit on the huskier and whispery side, as his voice and hums vibrated on your shoulder.

Like with you, Nagi found himself enjoying the moment. No noise except the sounds of the game along with your and his voice adding small quips. Your shoulder was also quite comfortable, your body warm, contrasting the cold air the air conditioning in the dining area provided.

He liked your presence, so serene and gentle, yet sharp enough to excite him. That's was his first impression of you, rather. And that has yet to change.

He was too immersed and comfortable beside you that you two did not notice the time passing. It took Ego coming inside the dining area to scold you and Nagi for both you to notice the time and head to your respective rooms.

But, deep down, Nagi did have to admit, he felt quite annoyed and disappointed that you two had to part so early.

I got too carried away with Nagi's meanwhile Chigiri's felt too short oop- anyways I hope you all loved this one. I might make many parts for this one. I really wanna make Miss Manager a series but idrk...

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[tpwk-formula1]

Hi! I love the pizzeria so much <333 I was wondering if I could get a thin crust pizza (sainz!reader) with red sauce, shallots, gorgonzola, egg, and ricotta. For a drink i’d like diet pepsi and redbull. I would like dessert & to be served by Lando <3 thank you!!!

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

Lando x Sainz!reader

AN: IM BACKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!! Get ready bitches! Better buckle up and get ready to join the new and improved Whore house! While I cannot promise a 100% perfect schedule I do intend to do my best to follow the schedule! I hope everyone had an amazing holiday season and is finally able to relax a bit!

TW: unprotected sex, PinV, oral (f receiving), quickie, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

WC: 1.6K

thin crust brothers best friend red sauce rough sex shallots "I love marking you up. Let everyone know I own you" gorgonzola "Are you always this fucking loud?" egg "Why so needy?" ricotta "I love your voice but it's always my favorite when you're moaning my name" diet pepsi biting red bull hickeys dessert yes served by Lando Norris

Y/N POV

"Lando come on," I whisper while pulling his arm towards the back of the vacation home we would be staying in for the New Years.

This year my entire family has decided to join Lando and I's friends on our annual trip to Dubai for New Years and they have successfully managed to give Lando and I absolutely no alone time.

It's New Years Eve early in the morning and I woke up to find out my family has decided to go play a round of gold while the girls went to the shops.

"Why so needy?" Lando asks with a small smirk making me whine and continue pulling him towards our room.

"Lando I haven't gotten you alone other than to sleep since we got here and before that we were in England with your family, I need you!" I say while pulling him into our room and pushing him onto the bed.

"Please baby," I whine climbing into his lap and pulling his mouth to mine. When I feel Lando's arms wrap around my waist and rest his hands on my hips giving me a rough squeeze I start grinding down into Lando's crotch making both of us gasp and moan out from the stimulation neither of us had gotten in far too long.

"Fuck," Lando groans out when I start trailing my kisses from his mouth down to his neck where I allow my teeth to sink into the side of his neck making him roll his eyes back from the pleasure.

I leave a small hickey behind before I sit back up slightly and pull Lando's shirt off of his body.

"Fuck, you're so hot," I groan when I finally see the tanned chest I've been missing.

"We gotta be quick," Lando groans pulling me back in for a kiss while he makes quick work of taking off my shirt which is actually just one of Lando's Quadrant hoodies.

Once my bare chest is revealed to Lando he quickly attaches his mouth to one of my stiffened nipples giving it a little suck before sinking his teeth down making me throw my head back with a moan.

"Oh fuck," I moan when I feel Lando soothing out the slight sting by running his tongue along the freshly bitten skin.

While Lando is using his mouth to tease my nipples I reach my hands between our bodies and work to unbutton the buttons of his jeans and unzipping them just enough to sneak my hand inside and pull out his already throbbing member.

"Fuck baby," Lando gasps pulling his mouth away from my tits only to to go and burry his face into my neck finding my sweet spot with no problems before bitting down and leaving his teeth marks behind.

"Lando!" I chastize even though I had just done the same to him.

"What can I say, I love marking you up. Let everyone know I own you." Lando says with a smirk making me jokingly roll my eyes before pulling him by the neck back in for another kiss.

Lando softly pushes me off his lap and tells me to finish getting undressed making me rush to finish pulling off my sweats and soaked through thong while Lando did the same with his jeans and boxers.

Once Lando and I were naked he pulls me into him by my hips before planting his mouth back onto mine. I moan softly into the kiss while Lando lifts me into his arms letting me wrap my legs aground his waist where he walks up back to the bed and ,says me down, Once my back softly hits the mattress Lando brings his mouth back down to mine where he starts trailing kisses from my mouth down to my neck where I can feel him leaving a few light hickeys behind before he finally brings his mouth close to where I've been waiting all week to feel him.

"Please Lan. I need you so bad," I whine out making Lando smirk softly at my begging.

"Quite the desperate little thing aren't ya," Lando says with a smirk only making a small while in protests and trying to pull him closer by the grip I have on his curls but to no aveil I have to wait until Lando brings his mouth to where I need him and when he finally licks a long soft strip from my dripping hole to my throbbing clit the sound I let out can only be explained as animalistic.

"Yes," I cry out when I feel Lando start lapping at my clit with more intent.

"Fuck, you taste so good," Lando groans into my clit making me moan loudly at the new vibrations being sent straight to my clit.

"Lando, I'm gonna cum," I cry out when I feel him plunge two thick fingers deep into my pussy.

"Go on, cum for me pretty girl," Lando says fucking his fingers into me harder while stille using his tongue to tease my clit.

I can't help the loud moan that leaves my mouth when I start to cum all over Lando's fingers and mouth.

"Oh fuck, fuck Lan, so good," I breath while squirming my hips away from his relentless mouth, feeling the overstimulation start to take over just a bit.

"Lan, too much," I cry out trying to push his away softly but it only makes Lando chuckle a little before holding my hips down harder allowing himself to continue to feast on my pussy without fear of me being able to squirm away.

When Lando has finally got his fix he slowly pulls away from my overly sensitive pussy before bringing his slick covered mouth to mine and planting a wet kiss.

I let out a softly moan when I taste myself on Lando's lips which only makes him giggle softly.

"I thought you said we have to be quick," I tease even though I was not complaining in any capacity,

"I couldn't help it. I haven't gotten a waste is a week," Lando whispers whichs make me smirk softly.

"Why so needy," I teasingly mock the words Lando used on my earlier. Lando just cocks and eyebrow before pinching my hip as a teasing warning.

Lando grabs his hard cock in his hand and runs it through my folds before pushing deep into my pussy making me cry out at the feeling of being filled up.

"Oh fuck Lando," I cry out when I feel Lando start rocking his hips into mine bringing in just enough stimulation for me to feel him filling me up but not enough to bring me close to an orgasm.

"I love your voice but it's always my favorite when you're moaning my name," Lando mumbles against my lips before he starts thrusting his hips in and out of my pussy making me cry out even louder at the stimulation.

Once Lando can tell my pussy has adjusted to his size he starts thrusting his hips harder and faster making me scream out.

"Fuck, so fucking tight," Lando grunts keeping the same rough pace.

"Fuck," I cry out when I can feel another orgasm starting to build deep within my stomach.

"Are you always this fucking loud?" Lando teases only fucking into me harder knowing how close I am to falling over the edge.

"Lando!" I moan out loudly only making Lando smirk given me proving him right.

"I'm gonna cum," I cry out making Lando snake a hand between our bodies and start playing with my clit throwing me over the edge with a cry.

"Fuck, feels so good," Lando grunts letting his hips shutter a bit before burying deep and filling my cunt with his cum.

"Fuck," Lando groans while riding his own pleasure out before slowly slipping out of my pussy and climbing out of bed after placing a quick kiss on my cheek.

When Lando returns only a minute later he now has a pair of clean boxers on and a warm rag he starts softly wiping me down before discarding it somewhere on the other side of the room. He quickly picks me up and brings me into the bathroom before sitting me on the toilet and letting me do my business while he left me alone.

When he returned I was standing in front of the mirror naked brushing my teeth and finally allowing myself to get ready for the rest of the day.

"I love your family, but fucking hell, that was far too long," Lando says while wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling my back into his chest.

"I agree," I say with a soft smile while I watched Lando through the mirror unwrap his arms and grab the clothes he had grabbed while he left me do my business.

Lando helps me dress in the outfit he picked out which consisted of a pair of HIS favorite jeans on me and a simple cropped baby tee.

We both notice the matching marks on both of our necks but neither of us choose to do something to cover them knowing sooner or later someone was bound to see them, might as well speed it up.

We barely make it into the hallway when my brother rounds the corner.

"Ew... and cover that before papa sees that and kills the boy," Carlos said while shaking his head but still placing a soft kiss on the top of my head. Something he's done since I was born.

"Love you too, loser." I laugh while shaking my head and walking into the common area where I find my mom chastising my dad for not wearing sunscreen. 

[marauroon]

can u please write a fic about James and the reader being bestfriends and becoming lovers pls?

thats my favorite trope ever ♡♡♡

C O M M O N A L I T Y — JAMES POTTER!

james potter x fem!reader | fluff | 3.2k | masterlist!!

sometimes you and james were a bit too close as friends, and it was making him question the platonicness of your relationship

cw — james feeling guilty for having feelings, mild miscommunication, friends to lovers, happy ending

James had been… off lately.

You weren’t sure that anyone else would even be able to tell, he was still his outrageously confident self, outgoing and charming, playfully annoying, but there was something there that was different, and you weren’t sure if it was in a positive way.

He looked more tired than usual, more drained, the small glint in his eyes barely holding on under whatever nimbus cloud had managed to overtake the inside of his head.

“Hey,” You approach him gently, taking a seat beside him on one of the common room sofas with your legs curled up underneath you. “You okay?”

“Yeah I’m great, did you hear that we kicked Slytherin’s ass during our practice match this morning?” Deflection. You could practically feel it radiating off of him. Even his tone was laced with it, the usual excitement that would be present over something like that simply acting as a mask to cover whatever was underneath it.

“James,” You furrow your eyebrows ever so slightly and he can tell that he’s beat.

“I hate how well you know me sometimes…” And just like that any sense of trying to hide the sorrowful state he was in disappears, replaced with a genuine show of discontent as he leans his head over the back of the seat.

You sigh, leaving your hand on his knee to rub small circles against the skin exposed by his shorts. “What’s wrong? You’ve been off all week,”

“It’s nothing you can help with love don’t worry about it,”

“I’m going to worry about it,”

“I know,” James gives out a long exhale, dragging the palm of his hand underneath his glasses to rub at his eyes. “I’m really fine, though,”

“James,” You tilt your head with a small pool of worry in your eyes. “Please tell me what’s going on,”

He always hated it when you looked at him like that.

“It’s truly nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about okay?” He pulls himself to sit up straight, mirroring your head tilt with his own. “I’ve gotta figure it out in my own time,”

You didn’t want to pry. If he wanted to tell you then he would. All you could really do was wait.

“Alright…”

That didn’t mean you were happy about it.

“Love…” James sighs softly. “Don’t look like that,”

“I’m just worried about you…”

“I know,” James leaves his hand on top of yours as a show of thanks for your concern over him.

He wants to tell you. And he should really. But how on earth do you bring up that you’ve managed to fall in love with your best friend, to said best friend?

‘Hey, by the way, I know we’re like best mates and all but every time you touch me I feel like I’m going to explode.’

“You should at least get some sleep, you look tired,”

Yeah, it’s kind of hard to sleep when you spend the whole night beating yourself up for being an absolute idiot.

“Yeah…”

You turn your hand until it’s palm up in his, curling your fingers around the back of his hand until they’re securely nestled together. “Maybe we should take a nap,”

He should say no. He’s not right to have you cuddled into his side with your head on his chest and your arms around his torso. It’s not fair on you for him to take advantage like that when you just see it as what’s essentially a sleepover between friends. Not when he’s thinking about you like he is.

“Yeah, I think I could use a nap right now…”

But when you look at him like that who is he to refuse you really?

—

James woke up with a groan, still groggy and covered in a thin film of sweat from the cocoon of heat that had developed underneath the quilt. He was supposed to sleep for an hour, maybe two if either of you were truly tired. But the sun had gone down and he could hear Peter’s snoring from across the room and Remus’ curtains were pulled and the sun definitely wasn’t coming up any time soon.

God knows he needed what he got though, he was starting to think he’d exhaust himself to the point of death.

As he shifted on the mattress, he was brought back to the both fortunate and unfortunate reality of the fact you we’re sleeping next to him, arm draped over his stomach with his arm underneath your head whist you slumbered away peacefully.

It took less than a few seconds for the tranquility of it to be ruined under the small voice in the back of his head that just had to ruin absolutely everything.

You were so pretty when you slept. Peaceful, unaware, like nothing could phase you under the blanket of rest you’d covered yourself with.

And it was making him feel so guilty. You were his friend, his best friend, and he was taking advantage of what you viewed to be a platonic relationship between two people because he just could not get his head right and stop thinking about you in a romantic fashion.

Was it really just platonic? He wasn’t sure anymore…

He stayed stationary for a few short moments, eyes gazing deftly over your sleep filled features and the feeling of your chest slowly rising and falling against his side until he was sure he couldn’t handle it anymore, and carefully slid his arm from underneath you so that he could move.

And then you shift, and he freezes.

Godric knows he didn’t need you waking up right now.

You don’t stir, thank god, but you do turn your body towards his in an unconscious effort to seek out the lost contact between the two of you.

James swears he almost melts at the sight.

“Just mates…” he whispers to himself, trying in vain to convince himself once more that the close relationship between the two of you was nothing more than pure platonic friendship.

There’s a sharp pang of guilt that pierces his heart as he carefully pries himself from you and watches as you try and chase after the contact in your sleep, but he knows that it’s for the best.

James takes one last quick glance at your sleeping figure before starting to quietly head towards the door, hoping and praying that you don’t wake up as he sneaks out of the dorm room.

You don’t for a good few minutes, but as the patch of heat that he’d left behind on the mattress turns cold, you find yourself blinking awake in the search of his absent warmth.

You don’t think much of his disappearance at first, he’d often get up to go to the bathroom or sneak off to the kitchens if he was hungry, but after ten—then fifteen—minutes of waiting, it’s more than clear that James didn’t have any intention of returning, so you quietly pad out of the boys’ dorm room to go in search of him.

It wasn’t very hard.

“James..?” You rub the corner of your eye with your knuckle as you descend the stairs to the main floor of the common room, where James was sat stationary on one of the sofas with his back to you. “Are you alright?”

The worry from earlier in the day immediately invades your mind again, and your eyebrows furrow in concern as you approach him, sleep slipping away with every step you take.

“Yeah,” He muttered in response to your question, not making any move to face you. “I’m fine.”

You don’t believe him.

“Why did you disappear..?” You take a seat next to him almost hesitantly.

The dip in the sofa from your added weight is enough incentive for James to finally move, and shifts to accommodate you beside him.

“I just.. needed to clear my head a bit, that’s all.” he shrugged, eyes almost absent as the continue to stare blankly towards the fireplace. “I didn’t want to wake you up either, so I just came to come down here for a bit.”

You let out a soft exhale at his intonation, reaching out to smooth a curl of hair from his eye with your fingers. “Are you really sure you’re okay?”

There’s a small, almost incomprehensible smile that etches it’s way on to James’ face at the gentle touch of your fingers, almost like a reflex, and just like a reflex the second he notices he’s doing it, it disappears.

“I’m fine I promise,” James gives a small sigh, nodding his head softly. “Just a lot going on in my head at the moment,” He continues to keep his gaze focused away from you, and it does not help in making you believe him. “What about you? You still look tired,”

“Yeah…” You tilt your head sideways until your temple is resting against James’ shoulder. “I’m okay…”

James is almost envious of how easily you lay your head on his shoulder, like it’s really no big deal.

As close friends, it shouldn’t be.

But it made his heart skip a beat and his throat dry up all the same.

He rested his arm over your shoulder cautiously, like his skin would burn at the contact, pads of his fingertips carefully sliding into the hair at your temple as he leaned his head back against the sofa with closed eyes in a failed attempt at looking relaxed.

“Come back to sleep?”

James bit his tongue.

In a way, his body wanted him to, as the comfort of you and the warmth of the bed were things that he craved at the moment.

His mind, however, was telling him differently. He couldn’t risk it. Not after the thoughts that he had been having.

“I can’t,” he responded softly.

“…Why not?” You blink up at him slowly, lifting your hand to trace arbitrary lines over his forearm to try and soothe whatever was rampaging his mind.

His mind was all over the place right now, but he couldn't allow himself to fall back into bed with you. Not when he was like this.

“I just can't,” he murmured for the second time, looking away from you once more.

“I can leave you to sleep by yourself,” You hand moves down towards his, giving it a small squeeze as you massage circles into his palm. “If that’s why you can’t sleep,”

You didn’t want to assume that you were the reason for his discomfort, but you also didn’t want him to stick it out if that was the case for your sake.

James sighed, his thoughts telling him to just give in and agree, as his body still wanted and craved your close presence.

His mind, however, had decided otherwise.

“It's not that-” He began to say, before stopping himself to redirect his response. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course James,” You bring your head up from his shoulder to give him a nod. “ Anything,”

James hung his head with a sigh, breathing in deeply before committing to his question.

“Have you ever wondered what it would be like if the two of us were… more than just friends?”

“I’m—” You blink non-commitaly. “—not sure what you mean,”

James looked over at you, your furrowed brow causing confusion in him for a second.

Did you really not know what he’d meant?

Or were you just feigning ignorance?

“You know very well what I mean,” he said softly, his mind beginning to wonder if maybe you weren’t as clueless as you were portraying right now. “You’ve had those thoughts before, haven’t you? About us being more than just… mates?”

“I—” What to say truly evades you as you stammer for a response, and you can’t even formulate a coherent sentence as you blink blankly at him.

James felt his breath falter a little bit at your hesitation, making him second guess what he’d just said and regret it almost immediately.

Was his mind just making him think of things that weren’t real? You really didn’t have any sort of thoughts like that whatsoever?

None?

None at all?

James decided to take a gamble with his next statement, praying to whatever god was listening that it would pay off.

“It’s been something I’ve thought about a lot lately…” He muttered his confession, trying to gauge if you were thinking the same things as him, or if he really was just going mad.

“…really?” Your voice is barely a whisper as you respond, throat drying up to the point where you feel like you’ve forgotten how to breathe.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, his voice a little bit more confident than it had been initially. “And, maybe it started off as just a little ‘what if’, but.. I can’t seem to get the thoughts out of my head anymore…” he trailed off slightly, hoping you would catch on to what he was hinting at.

“James…”

You’re not entirely sure how you should respond to that.

And not even because it was something you didn’t want to hear.

You’d just managed to dig yourself into such a deep pit of denial that you’d never even considered James having feelings for you that were anything more than platonic.

“…I’m not crazy for thinking about us like that…” He whispered, his voice catching just slightly as he waited for your response. “…am I?”

Your eyes flicker over James’ features as you dig through the folds of your brain to form a coherent response. But nothing comes.

And the longer you stay silent the more the hope in James’ eyes disappears and the more to have the indescribable urge to kiss all of his worries away.

So you do.

Incredibly impulsively.

The skin of his cheeks is soft underneath your palms as you pull your faces together, the curls covering his forehead brushing against you and the soft pressure of his lips against yours almost indescribable.

James’ eyes widen before they close, and you can almost physically feel all of the anxiety drain from him as he anchors his hands at your sides to return your efforts.

And for a moment it felt like everything was right with the world. Just how it should be.

“I think I might be in love with you…” You mutter the words against James’ lips only once you part for air, hands trembling ever so slightly against his cheeks as you rest your forehead against his in a mix of adrenaline and nervousness.

James swears his heart physically flips in his chest.

He takes a moment to respond, his head spinning from the kiss between you two.

“Good… because I’ve been in love with you for so goddamn long already…” he mumbled, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

The breathlessness of his voice urges a soft laugh from the back of your throat, and James can’t help but smile at the sound, like it’s his favourite thing to hear in the world.

James leans in close to you like you’re the most delicate thing in the world, gently pressing his lips to your forehead and just relishing in the fact that you’d both finally just admitted your true feelings. “So, does this mean we're not just mates anymore?” he teased, giving your waist a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t think we’ve been ‘just mates’ for a while James—” You lean your head into the crook of James’ neck with your arms over his shoulders in a hug, hiding yourself in the wake of your mild embarrassment.

James smiled and wrapped his arms around your waist, hugging you against him. “I’m so in love with you…” he whispered, the warmth that had been absent from his heart finally returning.

His heart felt lighter than it ever did before, and the warmth filled him from head to toe.

He leaned in close to you, holding you tightly yet gently in his arms. “I adore you, you know… I’m yours.” he admitted softly in your ear, his fingers tracing gentle circles on your back.

“I’ve always been yours James…”

James couldn’t help but laugh softly at your reply, his heart swelling with love for you. “You’ve always been mine?” He teased, gently rubbing his nose against your cheek with a smile. “Even when we were ‘just mates’?”

You let out a short laugh at the way he nuzzles his face against yours, scrunching up slightly. “Maybe I was just being optimistic,”

“Optimistic that one day, I’d fall head over heels crazy in love with you?” he replied with a smirk on his face.

“It worked didn’t it?” You give another laugh as you move to cup James’ face in your hand, and he leans into your touch like it’s second nature.

“I suppose it did, didn’t it?” He took hold of one of your wrists, slowly guiding your hand over to his lips where he planted a soft kiss on your palm. "You’re so beautiful..."

It’s nothing you haven’t heard before from him, but with the added knowledge of his romantic intentions it feels so much more intimate, and it leaves you horribly flustered to the point where you’re sure he can tell.

And the look on his face tells you he definitely can.

He had always found you beautiful—from the way you styled your hair to how pretty you looked first thing on a sunday morning dragging yourself to breakfast.

But now that he knew you were his, and his alone, the thought of letting you know how gorgeous you were made his heart flutter.

He wanted to lavish the girl of his dreams with compliments and affection in every way he could.

“I think we should head back to bed. I’m feeling a little tired again,” James mumbled softly in your ear.

He wanted to take you back to bed and hold you in his arms whilst he slept. To Hold you without any of the guilt or second-guessing. To hold you properly, like he’d always wanted to.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea...”

James slowly released his grasp on you, taking a moment to admire just how gorgeous you were in the pale moonlight of the common room.

He took your hand in his, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles as he stood up from the sofa. “Come on,” he whispered, gently pulling you up from your seat, “Let’s get some sleep love,”

[vxlenst3in]

Keep Talking | Aventurine x Reader

what if instead of scheduling an interview, he is talking to you and enjoying your sweet voice a little too much?

tags: dub con, phone sex??, masturbation, intended fem reader but can be read as gn!reader too, slight corruption kink, voice kink

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“Oh yeah? Really?” He asked, a raspy undertone in his morning voice. Aventurine just woke up a couple of minutes ago, while you’ve been up for a few hours already. In fact, your call woke him up. You just had to tell him about your day, and he didn’t mind. No, he loved listening to you talk, your sweet voice was his favourite sound.

He loved hearing you get excited, it always got him smiling and made his dick so terribly hard. Aventurine would often catch himself getting a boner at your mere smile, and he felt like a pervert for it. But in the end it’s not his fault that his girlfriend is just so cute that he constantly has to excuse himself to the bathroom to rub a quick one, because your voice just was a bit higher than usual, or your eyes just looked so innocent today. Your innocence just turned him on that easily.

It wasn’t any different today, he was barely awake, but he could feel something growing in his pants already. You were telling him all about your morning, about the cute cat you saw on your way to the grocery store, how annoying the cashier was, how you almost tripped on your way back home, and how you’ve done almost everything around the house already. Aventurine was trying his best to listen to your words, but his hand was already in his pyjama pants, cupping his underwear covered bulge.

His hips were bucking into his hand. He was trying his best to be absolutely quiet, not to interrupt you. Quiet grunts managed to escape his mouth, barely audible, but you were too busy talking anyway. Eventually his hand slipped into his underwear, pulling it down with his pyjama pants. A very audible sound of his cock slapping against his lower stomach could be heard.

“Are you alright, darling?” You asked. “Yeah, all good, just a fly.” He answered before starting to tease the tip of his dick, precum already decorating it. Aventurine was trying to suppress the whimpers that were stuck in the back of his throat. As he concentrated on your voice, his hand started to carefully stroke his dick. He was trying to imitate the soft strokes you’d always give him whenever you jerked him off. One day he wishes for you to talk to him about your day while jerking him off like that. He knows that he’d absolutely explode within seconds.

His hand was squeezing his shaft, as his thumb rubbed over the rose-pink tip. Aventurine’s lips parted, quietly gasping, his heart was beating so quickly it felt like it was gonna jump out at any moment. Sweat was forming on his forehead, while he rutted into his hand like a dog in heat. You were the only person that could get him this needy by just speaking to him.

“Aventurine?”

“Y-Yeah?” He grunted.

“Are you even listening?”

“Sorry darling, ‘m a bit distracted..can you..ah.. repeat what you said?”

So you did. Not that he picked up anything you said, he was too busy chasing his high, and processing your words wasn’t really part of that — he’d make it up to you another time. He could feel the heat rising in his body. It wouldn’t take long till he finally got that sweet release.

Aventurine’s hand sped up. Oh, if only you knew what was happening on the other side of the phone. He swallowed up all his moans and whimpers, the only thing he could process was your sweet sweet laugh and that did it for him. Huge amounts of that white sticky liquid spurted out of his dick, as your laugh echoed in his head. His freshly washed pyjamas were now ruined, but he couldn’t care less. A chuckle was his response to you.

“Fuck…do you know how much I love you, dear?” He asked while grinning down at the mess he had made.

“Mhm..Of course I do..I love you even more.” You replied. “It’s so sudden though..?”

“Ah, don’t worry, just wanted to let you know.”

Cleaning this up would take a moment for sure.

[certifiedcodbabygirl]

Simon Riley crying and praying for the first time in years bc you're hospitalized

(self indulgent as fuck, based off of personal medical history bc it'll be more accurate)

You hadn't ate or drank for 5 days, unable to keep anything down. You thought it was the flu at first. Fevers, puking, extreme fatigue. It didn't seem like anything out of the norm. Except for when your fevers started casing full body convulsions that made you look possessed. Chills and cold sweat turned to groaning and crying, muscles all over cramping and clenching, breathing becoming difficult. You figured it was because you hadn't had the flu in years. How wrong you had been.

Once your puke turned green, which was later found out to be bile from your kidneys, Simon rushed you to the hospital. Unable to stand, he pulled a wheelchair from the entrance and pushed you everywhere. Within 2 hours, the nurses had you admitted and on IV meds. Pain meds, IV Tylenol, and bags of fluid were hooked up to you, rehydrating you being high priority. Your body is in shock, resting heartrate being 140. He sat by your side the entire time, holding your puke bag in one hand, and your hair back in the other. The doctors drew blood, running blood cultures, searching for a more accurate answer.

The night you were admitted, they informed you that your kidneys were so infected that one got injured. The bile that was thrown up was caused but how hard you were puking, pulling it up from your kidneys.

He stayed the night, sleeping in the rocking chair, right next to your bed. He woke up when your fevers came back, holding your hand and telling you how good you're doing, calling in a nurse. The morning that followed, he had to go back to the house to make a bag of your immediate needs, clothes, deodorant, hairbrush, and anything else he could think of. When he came back, a doctor and a couple med students came in with important news.

"We ran blood cultures to see if there was possible an infection in your blood due to your symptoms leaning towards that. They came back positive. We are going to give you antibiotics and run cultures every 12 hours to track if the antibiotics are working" The doctor says as gently as possible.

The room begins to feel like it's spinning. Sepsis has a 68% mortality rate, and knowing how deadly it is, it feels like you're already being buried. Simon looks to you with a confused look, not knowing exactly what that it, but knowing it isn't good.

"I have sepsis?" You ask in a quiet voice, throat constricting.

"Yes" The doctor says softly.

"Oh fuck I'm gonna die" you whisper under your breath, tears forming.

Simon looks to you, eyes widening. 'Not again'

"Wait, the hell is Sepsis?" He demands, but not sounding confident, more scared than anything.

The doctor explains it to him, how it when your blood is infected, how the infection can latch onto your other organs and slowly kill you from the inside out. Once it reaches your brain, it's too late. His grip on your hand tightens. The doctor tries to give hope, but she can only do so much without lying. She leaves to give you privacy.

It's silent, neither of you speaking out of shock. The only noise in the room is the quiet hum of the IV machine and Simon's shaky breathing. Your thumb softly glides back and forth over the back of his hands, trying to ground him.

"Si" you softly call.

It takes hour to get him to loosen up a little. It's only when you manage to keep down a popsicle that he feels like he can breath a little easier. Like maybe you'll be part of the 32% that pull through.

That sliver of hope is crushed that night, being woken up by his arm being slapped repeated by you in a panic. His eyes meet yours, concern instantly written on his face. Your hand is on your chest as short, sharp breaths are the only thing you can manage.

"I,, can't,, breath,," you whisper between breaths, unable to say a sentence in one go.

"Baby it's alright, jus' try to breath wit' me, hm?" he tries to demonstrate slow breathing, mistaking it for a panic attack.

"not a,, panic,, attack,, please,, nurse,," you try to tell him.

He nods in a panic, running out to the nurse station and explaining. They rush in and take your pulse-ox just to see your oxygen percentage is at 86% when it should be above 95%. They try to do the deep breathing again before Simon interrupts them.

"It's not a bloody panic attack, she literally can't breath. Get her oxygen or somethin' before she fuckin' suffocates!"

They put you on oxygen until they can get you an X-ray. The nurses try to chalk it up to a panic attack until in the morning they see you still can't breath. They give you an X-ray and when the results come back, they send the doctor in. She informs you that the nurses gave you too much IV fluid and that caused your organs to swell so much that they pushed up on your lungs, collapsing them by 3/4ths. 1/4th of your lungs are still open and they're going to take you off fluid, start you on exercises to open them back up, and keep you on oxygen.

That's the last straw for Simon. Once you fall asleep for a nap, he heads outside to the bench area and punches a wall. His knuckles split but he barely feels it, ringing in his ears drowning out the surrounding noise. With no one around, he sits on a bend, elbows on knees and face in his hands. His breath picks up as his throat tightens and tears threaten to rip out of him.

"Why would ya let this happen to 'er? Aren't you supposed to be lovin'?" He whispers into the wind, looking up at the sky, "That girl in't like me. She's the fuckin' sunshine in human form and she's on death's bloody doorstep."

Tears cloud his vision, unable to keep it in any longer. He blinks them away, falling onto his clenched fists. Years of praying, to a god he later grew to resent, for him to fix his family. A child kneeling at his bed, begging him to get his family out of his father's grasp. Once he got to his teenage years, his desperation became resentment and anger. His jaw began to clench when his drunken father would spew bible verses at him to condemn him. He realized God wouldn't save him, nor would he when Simon's family was ripped from him.

Yet here he was, back to that same god, desperate that maybe, just maybe, he'd have mercy on him this time. He believed himself a rotten man, even if it was subconscious, unworthy of the angel sent to him. His light, reparations for the mistreatment The Father had destined for him.

"You sent 'er to me, it's gotta be for a reason. You've never listened to my prayers before but just this fuckin' once, please don't ignore me." His voice breaks, openly sobbing with no sound, "You sent 'er to me and now I can't live without 'er. She's fuckin' everythin' to me. Don't take back your gift, please" The end of his sentence slips into a whisper.

He wipes his tears on his sleeve and sniffles hard, trying to erase the evidence of his vulnerability. He stands and walks to the door, looking back at the bench before turning back to the door and walking in. 'Amen'