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msmk11 · 7 months ago

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Best Friend’s Mom

MILF!Wanda Maximoff x college age!fem!reader (Billy and Tommy’s best friend)

Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Word count: 5k

CW: Age gap (legal), best friends’ mom, MILF!Wanda, fluff, consumption of alcohol, mention of absent parent, light smut

Summary: You get invited to spend spring break with your best friends Tommy and Billy Maximoff and their mother, Wanda. But Wanda is not just any mom you soon discover. She’s a MILF. And god do you want her badly. Only in your wildest dreams could she ever be attracted to you too- or so you think.

A/n: It’s finally here per your votes on my poll! This is only part one of (probably) two however. A) I’ve never written for Wanda before so I’m having a harder time saying what I need to succinctly. B) I have the fattest crush on Wanda so perhaps this is just my rambles. I hope you enjoy!!

When your twin best friends Billy and Tommy had invited you on their beach family vacation over spring break, you had obviously said yes. The thoughts of sand between your toes, the warm sun on your skin, and the calming crash of the waves sent a shiver of excitement down your spine every time you thought of it. Of course, you were also just excited to spend time with your best friends, but the beach was at the forefront of your mind. Though your daydreams had already crafted a vision of perfection for this trip, the reality, surprisingly, far exceeded it. This was all thanks to one sinfully sexy Ms. Maximoff.

From the early budding of your friendship, you knew that Billy and Tommy adored their mother- especially since their father had left them all behind at a young age. Their descriptions made her seem sweet, loving, and remarkably kind. While your first introduction certainly reassured these claims, it was her beauty that struck you. Perhaps in your head you had imagined someone a little more….motherly looking… rather than the mortal goddess before you. With the way her auburn hair fell down past her shoulders in waves, her blue skinny jeans hugged the curve of her waist just right, and her soft, pink lips were always adorned with a smile, you were certain she was the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

When you, Billy, and Tommy pull up to the beach house in their small gray sedan and a redheaded woman, who you assume to be their mother, comes out, you are dumbfounded to say the least. Before her boys can even get their luggage from the trunk, she sweeps each into a bearhug and exclaims, “hello moya lyubov!”

Their unconvincing protests fall on deaf ears as she continues to smother them in love. You’re sure to tease them about it later.

When Ms. Maximoff breaks away from Billy and Tommy, she turns her attention to you and smiles sweetly. As she makes her way towards you, your heart begins to beat quickly as you realize how beautiful she is.

“Hello, dear,” she greets, “Billy and Tommy have told me all about you.”

Before you can respond, she too pulls you in for a hug. The burn of her touch, even through your shirt, is almost too much to bear, and her flowery perfume that fills your nostrils makes your head feel all woozy.

As she pulls away you can feel your cheeks burning and you try to act calm despite the butterflies fluttering in your stomach, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Maximoff, and thank you for letting me stay with you all this week.”

“Oh honey, no. Please don’t call me Ms. Maximoff, it makes me feel old. Wanda is just fine. And the pleasure is all mine, really. I’ve been eager to meet you ever since you became friends with my boys at the start of college.”

“Well, I’ve uh- been eager to meet you too. Billy and Tommy speak very highly of you.”

Wanda nearly coos as she turns to her sons brightly, “Awe moya lyubov, you two are too sweet.”

Your best friends flush red with embarrassment and the glares they shoot you as their mother hugs them again let you know they’ll berate you later for making them “look uncool.” Finally, Wanda pulls away and she urges you all to grab your stuff and follow her into the house.

Once inside, Billy and Tommy kick off their shoes haphazardly and start down the hall to the bedroom they’re sharing (so you can have a room to yourself). You, conversely, slip your shoes off gently and leave them by the door neatly. Wanda waits by your side and then motions for you to follow her once you’re done.

On your way to your room, Wanda gives you a mini tour. You pass through the small kitchen with light wooden floors, white cabinets, and seafoam blue walls. The living room is similarly beachy and charming, with big glass doors opening onto a wooden porch in the back and a smattering of brightly colored furniture organized around the room. At the end of the hall from the living room sits three doors, each leading into a separate room.

“Here we go, honey. Your room is this door on the left, the bathroom is the door in front of us, and my bedroom is here on the right. I hope you don’t mind being my neighbor and sharing a bathroom with me, but I figured it’d be better for the boys to have the master this week since they’re sharing a space,” Wanda tells you.

“No of course not Ms. M- Wanda. I feel bad that Billy and Tommy have to share, though. I honestly don’t mind sleeping on the couch!”

Wanda reacts as though you’ve just slapped her, “Oh honey, no! I’d never make a guest sleep on the couch! I want to make this place as comfortable for you as possible. Plus, the boys will be just fine. They spent the first half of their lives sharing a room, they’ll manage.”

You chuckle a little and smile kindly at her, “Well, thank you, seriously, I appreciate it.”

She waves her hand as if it’s nothing and then motions for you to go see your room, “I’m going to go finish up dinner honey, but let me know if you need anything.”

Wanda saunters off down the hall and you curse her for even walking sexily. Shaking yourself out of a daze, you go inside your room and promptly shut the door behind you. You drop your bag on the floor and then throw yourself on top of the fluffy, blue comforter, groaning into the mattress. You really hope you can survive this trip.

*****

It seems you must’ve fallen asleep on the comfy bed that feels more like a cloud, because suddenly you are jostled awake by a body landing on top of you. You let out an oomph as the air is expelled from your lungs and the weight of Tommy’s body settles on top of you.

“Tommy, you big lug,” you groan, “get off of me.”

You push the boy off of you and he rolls onto his back, “Had to wake you up somehow, you freak. I kept prodding you and nothing happened besides your continued snoring.”

“I don’t snore!” You protest, propping yourself up on your elbow and looking at him.

“Do too” he teases, “mouth open and all.” He then opens his mouth dramatically and lets out an obnoxiously loud snore.

You smack his stomach a little and he groans. In retaliation, he sweeps your elbow out from under you, forcing you to fall flat on your back again.

“Prick,” you grumble.

“Hey you should be a lot nicer to me, you know. I could’ve left you here to sleep and starve.”

You sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes, “I doubt your mom would allow that.”

The brunette snorts, “Touché.” He stands up and nods his head towards the door, “let’s go eat.”

You and Tommy make your way down the hall to the kitchen, playfully teasing and shoving each other a little on the way. When the longer-haired brother gives you an especially playful push into the kitchen, you nearly fall right in front of Wanda. You’re a little more than embarrassed, so you try to hide your face from her by turning back towards Tommy and glaring. He’s smirking until he’s not- when Wanda gently chides him for “being rude to the guest.”

“Mom she’s our friend, she can take it,” Tommy reminds her.

“Plus,” you add, “I can take either of them, easily, any day. I was just caught off guard there.”

“Really now?” Billy challenges.

You hum in confirmation.

“Fine, then I suggest a game of chicken after dinner.”

“Who’d be our fourth player?” you ask, confused.

“I will,” Wanda answers with a slight smirk, “I love a good challenge. And I’d love to see you beat my boys.”

“Oh you’re so on, Mom,” Tommy answers with a grin.

The twins look at each other with evil, cocky smirks on their face, and you can tell that they’re confident they’re going to win. You look at Wanda nervously because a) you don’t want to lose to the twins and b) you don’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of her. Her confident smirk, however, so similar to her sons, eases your fears just a little.

They come storming back after dinner, however, when you first see Wanda in a bikini. Though you wouldn’t say it’s skimpy by any means, for goodness sake she’s around her sons, it still certainly shows a lot of skin. The butterflies are beating around aggressively in your stomach as you admire the red swimsuit she’s wearing- the color compliments her skin tone so very well, the top shows just enough cleavage to leave something to the imagination, and the bottoms hang low on her hips, flaunting her soft, white stomach.

You become even more nervous when you realize that you are going to have to sit on top of Wanda’s shoulders. While Billy and Tommy jump into the pool, you cautiously discard your towel on a chair and turn to Wanda, “I didn’t even think about the fact that I’d have to be on your shoulders. We can just call off the game, I’ll probably be too heavy for you.”

The redhead shakes her head and chuckles, stepping a little closer to you, “Honey, I know how chicken works. I wouldn’t have offered to play if I didn’t think I could carry you. I’m a lot stronger than I look, you know.”

You want to believe her, but you are just so nervous about hurting her that you can only weakly smile and nod.

“Hey, are we playing chicken, or are you two too chicken?” Billy calls out mockingly.

“Oh we’re more than ready, boys,” Wanda answers confidently, hands on her hips.

She walks forward and slides down into the pool, the turquoise water riding up to her waist. She beckons you over to the edge, “I’ll stand here and you can hop on, since I know you’re a little nervous about getting on my shoulders.”

You take a deep breath and nod. Wanda turns around and you step forward. Tentatively, you hook one leg over her right shoulder and her hand immediately comes up to grab your thigh. You tense at the skin to skin contact and it sends a little shiver up your spine. Thankfully, Wanda can’t see your face, so she hopefully just assumes that you're nervous about getting on her shoulders and not for….. other….. reasons.

“You’ve got it, honey,” She encourages you sweetly.

You quickly lift your other leg up and hook it around her left shoulder. She grabs your other thigh tightly and squeezes it, as if reassuring you.

Problem one million- Wanda being this strong is really hot, adding to your already insanely high level of attraction towards her. You fear you might pass out on the spot.

“Good to go?” The redhead asks you softly, craning her neck a little to look up at you. Her green eyes are soft but determined and they send a surge of confidence through you, “Yes, I’m ready to take them down.”

Wanda easily wades through the water over to Billy and Tommy, who have situated themselves with Tommy as the anchor and Billy on top. You look your opponent in the eye and smirk, sending him a playful glare, “You’re on, Maximoff.”

Billy only scoffs at you cockily and then waves you forward, challenging you to go up against him. Wanda and Tommy move in towards one another and you stick your arms out, bracing for Billy’s attack. He comes in swinging, bringing his right arm down to your side trying to shove you off. You are braced for it, though, and Wanda’s strong grip keeps you in place. You retaliate by grabbing his wrists, simultaneously trying to keep him from hitting you and also jostle him around. After a few seconds of back and forth, Billy rips his left arm free, the force causing you to wobble a little.

“I got you, honey,” Wanda calls up to you when she hears the sharp breath you take.

You shake it off and head towards Billy with double the amount of determination. Letting go of his other wrist, you go for the shoulders and give him a hard shove. This alone does not push Billy off of Tommy’s shoulders. However, the former twin’s movement throws the latter twin off balance, sending them plummeting backwards into the water. They land with a loud splash and you and Wanda cheer loudly. When the boys come up for air they are spluttering and groan at your victory.

“You two are stronger than you look,” Tommy concedes.

“Never underestimate your mother,” Wanda chides teasingly. She then looks up at you, “do you want me to take you back over to the edge to hop off?”

Your newfound victory, especially with Wanda on your team, has caused your confidence to soar. You shake your head, “No that’s okay, you can just drop me in the water.”

The redhead smiles sweetly, “If you insist.”

Before you have a second to think, she is lurching backwards, sending you both crashing into the water just as the twins had. The water is much colder than you anticipated and it overcomes your senses as you flail around. When you breach the surface you let out a gasp of air and shake the water from your eyes, “Holy fuck that’s cold!” you shout, then immediately cringe for cursing in front of Wanda.

Luckily she only chuckles, an evil glint in her eye, “You asked to be thrown in, honey. I was only doing what you asked.”

“A little warning would have been nice,” you answer with a playful pout.

She only laughs again, her head thrown back a little, and it’s quite the sight to see.

*****

The next morning, you wake to soft, yellow sunbeams falling across your face. The sound of gentle waves can be heard just slightly through your window at the back of the house and you sigh contentedly. You could get used to this. After laying sprawled across your bed for an undetermined amount of time, you finally decide it’s time to get up. You wander down the hall into the kitchen, on the hunt for food, and find Wanda sitting at the kitchen table, book in one hand, coffee in another, clad in a silk, white slip nightgown.

“Good morning, honey. Did you sleep well?” She asks sweetly.

“Like a baby.”

“I’m glad to hear it. What can I make you for breakfast?” Wanda asks, already rising from her chair.

“Oh, Wanda, no. Please. You don’t need to make anything. I can just snack on something for the pantry. I don’t usually have much for breakfast anyways.”

Wanda tsks at you and waves you off, “Well that just won’t do honey. It’s more important than ever for you to fuel your body at this age- what with all the studying, busy work schedules and… other things.”

Wanda winks at you then and you choke on your spit a little. Had she just implied…? No, she couldn’t have. But…

“Yes, well, school and work keep me busy enough to not have time for other things, Wanda. And I make up for a light breakfast with more filling meals later.”

It seems as though Wanda ignores the latter fact as she asks how you like your eggs and pulls out a frying pan.

“Well, honey, I really can’t believe what you’re saying. Someone as beautiful and sweet as you must be overwhelmed with social obligations- parties, friends, dating.”

You try to hide the blush on your cheeks from Wanda’s flattery, “No really, Wanda, I don’t have all that many. And I’m happy with my small group of friends.”

“You know,” Wanda starts, turning towards you as the eggs cook, resting her back against the counter, “I have to ask, and I hope you’ll excuse me for wondering, but I wanted to know if you were seeing or were interested in one of my boys. You just seem awfully close and I can’t help but wonder…”

You burst out in laughter at the heinous suggestion and Wanda’s eyebrows raise in bewilderment, “Oh god, no. Never in a million years would I date them.”

Wanda purses her lips and you realize how that sounded, “Please don’t take that the wrong way, Wanda. You’ve raised such lovely boys, you know. And I love them dearly, but not like that. They’re like my brothers. And even if they weren’t, I wouldn’t go for them. Or any guy for that matter… I like women.”

All the confusion and maybe even a little defensiveness drains from Wanda’s face at your confession and she visibly relaxes. She turns back to the eggs and picks up the pan, “I see. Well, the boys are grateful to have you in any way they can.” She walks over and sets the plate down in front of you, “And that makes me pretty grateful too.”

As she stays behind you, Wanda tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and you shiver.

“Thank you, Wanda.”

“My pleasure, Detka.”

*****

The tension is so thick it is unbearable as you sit on a chair across from Wanda. At this point, you know it isn’t hot enough outside for you to be feeling this flushed. Rather, the way Wanda keeps looking over at you not so sneakily as she nurses her wine is leaving you all hot and bothered. When she takes another sip you are entranced by the way her soft, red lips wrap around the rim of the glass. And when she pulls the cup away, a drop of the wine is still on her lips. You nearly gasp as her tongue darts out, seemingly in slow motion, to lick it up. At this point, you know your staring is obvious, but Wanda just looks so pretty in that sundress, and one too many glasses of wine has left you feeling a little reckless.

“Want another sip?” Wanda muses teasingly, pointing the glass towards you.

“Oh no, I’m okay, Wanda, thank you.” You answer softly.

“Come on detka,” she says huskily, “just come have one more sip. I don’t think I can finish it alone.”

Really, you can never say no to this woman, so you oblige, standing from your chair and walking over to sit down next to her. Her perfume wafts over you as she leans in and hands you the glass, and you feel woozy.

You take a sip of what little wine is left in the glass and swallow as Wanda watches you the whole time. You turn to the redhead and hand her the glass. She sets it on the table without once breaking eye contact with you.

“Oh Detka, you have a little drop of wine on your lip. Let me get that right-“

She reaches out and cups your cheek. Instead of wiping it away with her thumb like you think she will, she leans in and captures your bottom lip between your own. She sucks on it softly and you nearly moan. Before you can really process what’s happening, she’s pulled away, a knowing smirk on her face, “There baby, all better now.”

“W-Wanda- I.” You stutter.

“Hmm?” She asks, sickeningly sweetly.

“Can you do that again?”

“Do what again, baby?”

You almost whine at her teasing, “Kiss me, Wanda. Please.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” she whispers, already pressing her lips to yours again.

You sigh deeply as the flame rekindles in your belly and your heart beats faster. Your kisses are fast and sloppy, your tongues battling for dominance. Keeping your lips on hers you shuffle, straddling your legs on either side of her lap as you wrap your arms around her shoulders.

Wanda groans and grabs your hips tightly, digging her nails into the slight bit of bare skin showing as your shirt rides up.

She tastes like chocolate strawberries and wine and you chase her lips like you’ve been starved for days. Wanda just smells so good, and feels so good, and tastes so good that you’re insatiable. Unknowingly, you rock your hips a little, and a jolt of pleasure shoots through you at the friction between your legs. You moan into her mouth and try it again, this time rolling your hips more aggressively. Combined with Wanda’s kissing, it feels really good.

“Careful Detka, don’t start something you can’t finish,” Wanda warns lowly.

You pull away suddenly, gasping for air, “Wanda, I want this. I- I want you right now. I need you.”

She looks at you intently, those green eyes both soft and loving while also glazed with lust, “you sure, baby? There’s no going back after this.”

“Please,” you say, this time really whining.

“Start with my thigh,” she orders.

You lean back in and kiss Wanda again like before, but this time with the repeated motion of you humping her thigh, chasing your own pleasure. Wanda’s hands slowly travel down your sides, one stopping to grope at your breasts while the other makes it’s way to cup your ass. The added stimulation to your ass and tits makes you moan into her mouth again.

She pulls away and shushes you quietly, “gotta be quiet, baby. Wouldn’t want the neighbors to hear.”

You nod meekly and bite your lip to keep any more moans from slipping out. Wanda takes the chance to place her lips elsewhere, assaulting your neck and exposed collarbone with bites, licks, and sucking. Before you know it, you feel yourself getting closer to the edge, tension building in your belly. Maybe it’s the pace of your hips, or Wanda just has a sense for these things, but she can tell you’re close. Before you can get there, however,

“Wake up. Stop sleeping the day away.”

You are rather rudely awakened, you think, by Billy. His wet hair drips onto your face as he hovers over you, “Come swim with us and quit being boring.”

“But I’m getting my tan on,” you whine.

“You can do that in the water,” he retorts.

When you don’t make any sign of movement, Billy huffs, “You always have to make things difficult, don’t you?”

Before you can protest, the boy grabs your waist and pulls you up, flipping you over his shoulder.

“Billy,” you screech, “Put me down!!”

He ignores you and starts off towards the ocean. You smack his back and flail your legs but that doesn’t stop him. Before you know it you are met with a blast of ice cold water as he flings you into the salty ocean. When you burst to the surface spluttering you send Billy the biggest glare.

“You’re dead meat Maximoff.”

You quickly wade through the water towards Billy and lunge forward. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and bring him down into the water with you. You’re a mix of flailing limbs under the water. You get an elbow to Billy’s face and him a blow to your stomach before you both swim upwards and gasp for air. Tommy is there, laughing at you both, so you and Billy share a sneaky look before grabbing him by the ankles and pulling him down too.

Though you may have been peeved at Billy for throwing you into the water, it does feel rather nice on your hot skin. It also curbed your rather lusty thoughts of your best friends’ mother. The three of you stay out in the ocean for awhile, play fighting, throwing a football and diving for seashells. It makes you feel like a bit of a kid again, and you notice the recent stress of exams, school, and work fading away.

After a few hours at the beach, the three of you make your way back to the house. You drag your gear- sunscreen, towels, snorkels, and the likes to the back porch and collapse on some of the patio furniture. Tommy wanders inside for a moment and returns with a few beers for you all to share. As you sip and make light conversation, Wanda appears from the house, a tray of snacks in hand.

“How was the beach moya lyubov?” She asks, setting down the tray in front of you three.

“It was great, Mom. You should’ve joined us,” Tommy replies before stuffing a few carrots in his mouth.

She takes the fourth chair, which happens to be next to yours, “I wanted you all to have your fun. Plus, I’ve been to that beach plenty of times.”

“Next time though,” Billy tells her and Wanda smiles a little.

“Yes, next time.”

You reach forward to grab a cracker off the tray, and you’re not unaware of the way Wanda’s eyes follow you. You lean back again and munch happily on your cracker, trying to not be self conscious under the woman’s stare.

Suddenly, Wanda reaches out and pulls on the strap of your bikini top, “I like this swimsuit, honey. Where’d you get it? I’m looking to buy some new suits so I can throw out my old ones.”

Wanda’s deliberate touch excites you, and you keep your legs crossed to hide the way your thighs sort of squeeze together.

“Uh Target, I think. The boys got their trunks there too.”

She hums softly, “It’s so hard to find flattering suits nowadays don’t you think? Either they’re two thin pieces of fabric that cover nothing at all or they’re boxy, ugly one pieces that do no one any favors.”

You groan loudly, “tell me about it. I think Billy and Tommy almost left me behind when we went shopping because of how long I was taking. Not that I blame them, though I told them it’s also not my fault there are so few good options.”

“Mom, one swimsuit had fur,” Billy says with a shudder.

“Another looked like a disco ball,” Tommy adds, “like are you going to the beach or a strip club?”

You all burst out laughing at the sadly true comparison.

“All I can say is that I really was lucky to find this swimsuit.”

And as you lean forward to grab another cracker you swear you hear Wanda mutter under her breath, “Lucky for me too.”

*****

Much of the rest of your afternoon had been spent on that back patio talking, snacking and playing cards. Dinner had been light, and with a few booze in your body you were feeling pretty good. You’d wandered off to shower after dinner, wanting to get the sunscreen and sand off your body. The hot water and soap in your hair feels amazing, and you are appreciative of the privacy to process all of the thoughts and feelings from the day. You still haven't gotten over the comment you are sure Wanda had made earlier. A part of you wonders if you’d just made it up, your horny mind so desperate to believe that she finds you attractive too. But even though it was just above a whisper, the words echo in your mind loud and clear- “lucky for me too”. How could you make that up?

It feels wrong and, frankly, rather inappropriate to pursue your suspicions further. Wanda could’ve meant anything by what she said.

Maybe she was grateful that you bought that swimsuit, so now she knew where to buy hers too?

Maybe she was grateful she didn’t have to be subject to some ugly swimsuit you’d have been forced to wear.

Or maybe. No. You couldn’t even let yourself consider the possibility of Wanda being attracted to you. That would be a bad idea that would only get you in trouble.

You decide there is only one way to solve the problem.

After your shower, you slip out of the bathroom into your room only scantily clad in your small towel. You firmly shut the door behind you and drop your towel, making your way onto your soft bed. You lay on your back, head resting against the pillows, and spread your legs a little. You’ve been desperate to ease the ache between your legs for hours and you can’t wait any longer. You hope that maybe, if you do this, your horniness will dissolve and you can go about your business the rest of your trip happily.

As your hand trails lower between your legs, you sigh at the pressure very much needed to cure the intense ache. It feels good, really, but you only wish it was Wanda’s hand instead of your own. You shut your eyes and your breaths become heavier as you indulge for a moment, imagining that Wanda was here. You think about the way she’d say your name huskily, how her perfume would invade your nose as she held you close, how her fingers would know exactly how to make you feel good, and in no time, you’ve reached your high. Though you try to be quiet, you can’t help the semi-loud pleas of her name that leave your lips as pleasure wracks through your body.

You collapse back against your pillows, panting and your hands at your side. You can only revel in your bliss for a few moments before there is a knock on your door. You scramble up, your heart beating fast in your chest, feeling as if you’d been caught. You throw on your pajama t-shirt at the end of your bed, and it just barely covers your ass. But you figure it will work well enough to answer the door. You rush over and pull it open, and are shocked to find Wanda on the other side.

“Hey, Wanda, what’s up?” You ask breathlessly.

It’s then that you notice how her pupils are dilated, and that she has this look in her eyes. One so reminiscent of your dream.

“You know if you needed help, Detka, you could’ve just asked. I’m more than happy to help someone as pretty as you.”

#the avengers #marvel fanfiction #marvel #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda mcu #milf!wanda maximoff #fluff #semi smut

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gyaruhana · 2 months ago

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semi smut ? where her and reader are in a toxic relationship

Semi - Toxic smutty headcannons

Synopsis: just semi being toxic..

A/N: turned this into headcannons bc I didn't know what plot to right (though there's a little paragraph at the end). I hope that's okay! Anyway- second squid game fic of the day !! I cheered

Warnings: mean semi, manipulative, mentions of vibrators, light slapping, edging,

➠ Let’s be real.. Semi is manipulative. When she first laid her eyes on you, she thought you looked too innocent. It’s one of the reasons she even got with you in the first place.

➠ You were cute and naive and she believed you’d be unable to leave her ever no matter what she did to you.

➠ So, yeah, she's mean. And maybe she likes making you cry a little too much. It’s not her fault. It’s yours for looking at her with big doe eyes with tears spilling from the corners and slowly dripping down your face.

➠But she won’t hit you or anything of the sort (unless it’s during sex and she’s punishing you..)

➠ She never admits that she’s wrong. She’s just always right. Every argument always ends with her saying it’s your fault before she decides that you need to be punished for your attitude.

➠ Her punishments are mostly just edging. She loves to keep you stuck between that feeling of almost getting to cum before stopping all together so you can let out a cry and beg her to give you what you want.

➠ She does like a little bit of hitting though. Nothing too rough - just some light slaps across the face or on your ass. Hard enough to sting but not to leave bruises.

➠ When she’s not punishing you, it still sort of feels like a punishment.

➠ Sex with her is usually just her trying to please herself. She’ll let you cum as many times as you do but, if she has enough then she’ll leave you high and dry.

➠ Honestly likes giving you vibrators to wear and then turning them on in public settings like a restaurant. She enjoys watching you squirm and beg for her to turn it off.

➠ She keeps it at a setting that she knows will make it impossible for you to cum but sometimes she likes to randomly max it out or, when you’re close, she’ll stop it just to hear you cry out.

➠ Overall, she’s really just a manipulative girlfriend who thinks you’re completely innocent and likes to abuse that belief.

“Don’t you have any respect for me? Do you think I’d lie to you?” Semi spoke as she thrusted two of her fingers into your hole - her thumb rubbing your clit teasingly to keep you away from the edge of a climax but close enough that you’d be in a tortuous state of impatience. You’d be stupid to think she’ll let you cum after you spoke up to her. Even when tears filled your eyes, all she did was mock you. “Don’t cry. This is your fault. If you had just been good, you’d be squirting by now,”

#squid game #squid game x reader #squid game 2 #squid game season 2 #semi squid game #squid game semi #squid game smut

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kurooh · 10 months ago

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HAIKYUU BRAINROT.

☆ includes: timeskip! miya atsumu, miya osamu, oikawa tōru, kageyama tobio, semi eita, sakusa kiyōmi, kuroo tetsurō.

☆ warnings: 18+ content, f! reader, drug use [weed], oral (f&m receiving), lingerie, cream pies, dirty talk, slightly rough sex, praise, being tied up, blindfolds, mirror sex, 69, food play, shower sex, not proofread.

waiting in lacy lingerie for atsumu the day before his birthday, rose petals strewn around the floor and leading to the bedroom. your skin illuminated by the soft candlelight of the bedroom, the lingerie accentuating every inch of your body. he gets home, kisses you, fingers you until you cum, whining his name. he reaches towards the nightstand, remembering to use a condom, but you stop him, tell him one of his gifts is going raw. excited, he pushes into you, and doesn’t last long. all he can think of is filling you up, using the cum as lube to keep going.

when the restaurant is vacant, and it’s just you and osamu, he sometimes loves to have dessert. more specifically, you for dessert. you take a can of whipped cream, specially tucked away in the very back of the office mini fridge for moments like these. you make swirls on your nipples, make a sloppy heart on your pelvis. eagerly, he sucks onto your nipples, biting and kissing each as his tongue makes quick work of the cream. then, he kisses down your body, staring at you hungrily as he licks your pelvis clean. he fingers you as you shakily make new designs on your skin. he takes your clit between his lips and sucks, savoring the taste. he thinks you’re sweeter than any kind of dessert.

you run to eita after his performance at a concert, grinding on him ever so slightly when you hug him, squeezing your tits together when you ask why he’s pissy. “get the hell in the dressing room,” he hissed, grabbing your hand tightly and dragging you along. a small breeze rushes up your skirt, brushing against your bare pussy. he pushes you in, turns to lock the door, and turns back to you. you jump onto him and kiss him; he catches you, and stumbles towards his cluttered desk with the lit mirror. with one arm, he sweeps everything off and places you down, yanking up your skirt to eat you out. he buries himself between your thighs, fingering and sucking and licking roughly, just the way you like it. your back arches when you cum, and you moan loudly, but he tells you to be quiet as he picks you up again and presses you against a nearby wall. he lifts your skirt again, yanks his pants down, and presses into you quickly. eita tucks his face into your neck, fucking you hard. his pelvis rubs against your clit as he fucks, causing you to cum on his cock — your orgasm spurs on his own, and though you were both supposed to be quiet, you cum loudly together. with you, he can’t even think about how he’ll have to play everything off with his friends when he steps out.

tōru takes a hit of the pen, slapping your ass and squeezing it as he exhales the smoke over your back. it’s warm and smooth, a contrast to how hot and rough he’s fucking your pussy. your eyes water as your mouth dries up, the heat of arousal itching all over inside your body. he passes it to you, and all you can do is grip it and the sheets as he groans, his eyes falling shut as he grips your hips and listens to the sounds of his balls smacking against your clit, his hips slapping into your ass. “that’s perfect tōru, that’s just how i want it,” you babble, your mind racing with thoughts of him. being high together is occasional, and it’s always some of the best sex with him. he gets off on praise, even more so when he’s high, his loud groans breaking into tiny moans as you cry his name. “you feel s-so good, i love it when you fuck me like this, please don’t stop,” you push your head down into the sheets and raise your ass against his hips more, arms shaking. he collapses onto your back with a wheezy sigh, moaning loudly as his cock pumps all of his cum into you. he always cums a lot, and harder, when he’s high; he cries into your shoulder as you weakly throw your ass back onto him, a signal to keep going.

water rushes over your lower back and ass as you scoot forward, closer to tobio’s thighs. his tip bumps the back of your throat and you fight a gag back, taking him as deep as you can. your lips are wrapped around his base, long strings of spit leaking from your lips; the water washes it away. “mmm, fuck,” he hisses, his hand cupping the back of your head as he tries his best not to slip. “you feel so good.” he pushes you into his pelvis, yanks you back and then down again steadily. he’s always loved fucking your face like this. gasping, his body curls forward, over your head, and he can’t hold himself back as his free hand grips onto the shower curtain. his cock slams down your throat, the feeling so tight your eyes can only water as you let out gurgly moans around his wet cock. when he cums, he holds you down against him, whining curses at the way you greedily swallow all of it. somehow, he doesn’t pull the shower curtain down. when you pull back, he kisses you immediately, tongue meshing with yours. tobio loves tasting a little bit of himself on your tongue.

one night, you and kiyoomi decide to try something new. he ties you up to the bed, your legs spread, your pussy wet, and a silky black blindfold wrapped around your head. you hear the sounds of clothes being folded and placed onto the bed in front of you, and you twist helplessly. “omi, i fucking need you.” he sighs shakily, “of course, my love.” seeing you like this is beyond hot; he’s been dreaming of you looking like this for him. he grabs his cock, and guides his tip to your wet pussy. he slowly rubs his tip through your sticky folds, gasping as he watches you try to jerk your hips forward in a futile attempt to get him inside you. feeling his cock grow harder, kiyoomi keeps the tease going for a little longer until he decides he can’t take it anymore and pushes inside you. he presses inch by inch inside you, his hand landing on your pelvis with his thumb pressed to your clit. “fuuuck!” you feel like screaming at him, begging him to fuck you senselessly, desperate for his cum and all the pleasure he has to give. instead, you rein yourself in a little. “kiyoomi,” there’s something dark and demanding in your voice, even though you’re tied up. wasn’t he in control here? “yeah?” he develops a quick pace, gritting his teeth every time his tip hits the deepest parts of you. “i want you to fuck me until—shit!—until i’m screaming.” “you know i will,” is all he can say as he grips your hips and ruthlessly slams into you.

you look ahead through lidded eyes, into the mirror and at your obscene reflection. you’re on top of tetsurō, his cock stuffing your mouth as the rest of your body shakes in his grip. he yanked your ass down into his face, sucking your clit harder as two of his fingers thrust in and out of you. one of his large hands grips your hip, his nails digging into his skin more as you deepthroat him, leaving crescent moon indents in your skin. you watch as spit drips down his cock, down his balls, onto the towel below you. you feel your orgasm nearing, your pleasure climbing quickly when he mercilessly sucks your clit. he had told you before: “watch yourself in the mirror as we cum together.” you agreed, doubting you’d cum with tetsu. he said, “good girl.” and then pulled your pussy down to his mouth. moaning on his cock while he moans into your pussy, you feel the familiar heat blaze through the entirety of your lower body. you also feel his cock tighten, then begin to pulse as he cums hard in your mouth. as you cum on his fingers, jerking your hips back, you catch a quick glimpse at yourself in the mirror; spit covers your lips, your hair is mussed, and you look so unbelievably fucked out, drunk on tetsurō.

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fayelero · 11 days ago

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ⓘ 01. GETTING YOU FLUSTERED !

⤷ multiple ﹫ female reader ﹫ fluff ﹫ drabbles

⌗ bokuto, kageyama, kuroo, tendou, atsumu, osamu, suna, kenma, tsukishima, semi, iwaizumi

⚠︎ suggestive for some of them, fluff .ᐟ.ᐟ

𓍯𓂃 bokuto kotaro

Bokuto’s golden eyes lock onto yours with a sharp, knowing intensity, the kind that sets your skin ablaze before he even speaks. He leans in just slightly, that signature smirk tugging at the corner of his lips—cocky, playful, and entirely too devastating. Your breath catches, heat rushing to your cheeks as his gaze never wavers, holding you there like a prisoner to his wicked amusement. “What’s wrong, babe?” he murmurs, voice low, teasing, fully aware of the effect he has on you. The smirk deepens, and you swear your heart might just give out as his fingers brush against your wrist—light, fleeting, but enough to send a shiver straight down your spine.

He chuckles, the sound rich and smug, as if he can see right through you—see the way your pulse is racing, the way your lips part just slightly, searching for a comeback that won’t come. His fingers trail higher, tracing lazy circles against your skin, and when he finally tilts his head, his smirk turning downright sinful, you swear you forget how to breathe. “You always get this flustered when I look at you like that?” he teases, voice dripping with amusement, but there’s something darker beneath it—something possessive, hungry. He inches closer, so close you can feel his breath ghost over your lips, and just when you think he’ll kiss you, he pulls back with a satisfied hum, leaving you burning, aching, and hopelessly addicted to the way he unravels you with nothing but a look.

𓍯𓂃 kageyama tobio

Kageyama isn’t one for grand gestures, but the way he sneaks in those fleeting, stolen kisses when no one is looking? It’s downright lethal. One moment, you’re standing beside him, completely unsuspecting, and the next, his lips brush against the side of your temple—so quick, so soft, you almost think you imagined it. But then he does it again, this time at the corner of your mouth, so subtle yet so deliberate it sends a rush of heat straight through you. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even acknowledge the way your breath hitches or how your fingers curl into fists at your sides. Instead, he just keeps his expression neutral, only the slight twitch of his lips betraying his amusement. And when you finally manage to shoot him a flustered glare, cheeks burning, he just shrugs, leans in one last time, and murmurs against your skin, “You make it too easy.”

As if to prove his point, he does it again—this time a featherlight press of his lips just below your ear, so quick yet so devastating that your entire body tenses. Your breath stutters, heart hammering against your ribs, and he knows it. You can feel the way his lips linger for a fraction of a second longer than necessary, the ghost of a smirk hidden against your skin. And then he’s gone, standing beside you as if nothing happened, eyes fixed ahead like the perfect picture of innocence. But when you dare to glance up at him, you catch it—the slightest hint of mischief flickering in his deep blue eyes, his hand brushing against yours like a silent promise: This isn’t over.

𓍯𓂃 tetsuro kuroo

Kuroo is relentless, a walking storm of teasing fingers and knowing smirks, completely unbothered by when or where he touches you—because to him, there’s never a bad time to drive you insane. His hands are always on you, tracing lazy patterns along your thighs when you sit beside him, ghosting over your lower back as he passes by, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt just to rest against your waist like he belongs there. And he does it so effortlessly, so naturally, that it leaves you breathless every single time. His fingers toy with the ends of your hair, tugging just enough to make your stomach flip, his palm pressing firmly against the curve of your hip when he pulls you closer, his touch burning through the fabric of your clothes like a brand. And the worst part? He knows what he’s doing. The way your breath catches, the way you shiver under his touch—he drinks it in, smirking against your ear as he leans in, voice low and full of sinful amusement. “You get flustered way too easily, babe,” he murmurs, his fingers slipping beneath your chin to tilt your gaze up to his. “Good thing I don’t mind making it worse.”

As if to prove his point, his fingers trail down, tracing the column of your throat with a touch so light it sends a full-body shiver ripping through you. His smirk deepens, eyes dark with satisfaction as his hands find your waist again, gripping just hard enough to make your breath hitch. And then—because he’s Kuroo, because he lives to see you unravel—he dips his head, lips barely grazing your jaw, his breath hot against your skin. “What’s wrong?” he murmurs, his voice dripping with mock innocence, his fingers kneading slow, deliberate circles into your hips. “Can’t handle me?” He’s taunting you, playing with you like it’s his favorite game, and when your hands fly up to his chest to push him away—halfhearted and weak—he just chuckles, pressing a fleeting kiss to the corner of your lips before pulling back, eyes gleaming. “Baby,” he muses, hands still resting on you, still making your skin burn. “you’re not fooling anyone.”

𓍯𓂃 atsumu miya

Atsumu is shameless, and he knows exactly what he’s doing when he tugs you in by the waist—fast, effortless, like it’s second nature. One second you’re standing there, minding your own business, and the next, his hands are locked around you, pulling you flush against him with a grip that’s all confidence and zero hesitation. He leans in close, lips hovering just over your ear, his breath warm and teasing as his fingers flex against your sides. “Didn’t expect that, did ya?” he murmurs, voice dripping with amusement, his smirk pressed into the curve of your jaw. He waits for it, the way your breath stutters, the way your hands instinctively clutch at his arms like he’s the only thing keeping you upright. And when your cheeks go hot, when you finally manage to stammer out something incoherent, he chuckles—low, deep, and entirely too smug. “Aww, look at ya,” he coos, tilting his head back just enough to drink in your flustered expression, his grip on you tightening like he has no plans of letting go. “Y’always get this shy when I touch ya like this?”

As if he hasn’t already wrecked you enough, he gives your waist a playful squeeze, pulling you in just a fraction closer—like he needs you there, pressed up against him. His smirk deepens when you suck in a sharp breath, and before you can even think of escaping, he dips his head, brushing his lips against your temple in a featherlight tease. “Mmh,” he mutters, his voice laced with pure mischief, fingers still firm against your sides. “I think I like ya even more when you’re speechless.”

𓍯𓂃 tendou satori

Tendō is usually all sharp grins and endless chatter, but when he goes silent—really silent—it’s dangerous. You’re mid-sentence, voice steady, trying to keep your train of thought, but then it happens. His gaze flickers down—just for a second—to your lips, slow and deliberate, before dragging back up to your eyes. And suddenly, every word dies in your throat. He doesn’t smirk, doesn’t tease, just watches you with that unnervingly intense stare, his crimson eyes dark with something unreadable, something that sends a shiver straight down your spine. The weight of his gaze alone sets you on fire, but it’s the way he tilts his head slightly, as if considering something, as if debating whether to act on whatever thought just crossed his mind, that really makes you unravel. He leans in just a little, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him, and then—just when you think he might actually kiss you—he pulls back with a hum, lips curling into a knowing smirk. “What’s wrong?” he muses, amusement dripping from his voice as he rests his chin in his palm. “You were saying something, right?”

𓍯𓂃 osamu miya

Osamu isn’t the type to make a big show of affection, but when he does? It’s enough to knock the air from your lungs. You don’t even hear him coming—not until his arms snake around your waist from behind, pulling you flush against his chest in one smooth, effortless motion. A startled gasp escapes you, but before you can even process the warmth of him, his lips brush against your cheek—soft, slow, but deliberate. The heat of his breath lingers against your skin, and he doesn’t move, doesn’t let go, just holds you there like he has all the time in the world. “Didn’t mean to scare ya,” he murmurs, his voice low, lazy, but there’s something smug beneath it—something that tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing. His grip tightens just slightly, his fingers pressing into your hips as he tilts his head, his lips barely an inch from your ear now. “But ya went all quiet on me,” he muses, his tone rich with amusement. “That mean ya liked it?”

𓍯𓂃 suna rintaro

Suna doesn’t just hug you—he engulfs you, his arms locking around you in a way that makes it impossible to escape, like he needs you this close. His body is warm against yours, solid, unyielding, but it’s the way his lips press against your neck—slow, unhurried—that really sets your skin on fire. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t give you a second to breathe, just keeps kissing along the sensitive curve of your throat, each press of his lips sending a shiver down your spine. His grip tightens as you squirm, a deep hum vibrating in his chest like he finds your reaction amusing. “What’s wrong?” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and laced with something dark, something teasing. Another kiss—this time just beneath your ear, slower, more deliberate. “You’re shakin’,” he notes, his tone smug, his arms still locked around you, holding you in place. He finally pauses, just for a second, his breath hot against your neck. “Too much for you?” But before you can even think of answering, his lips are back on you—this time, with even less restraint.

𓍯𓂃 kenma kozume

Kenma is subtle, effortless in the way he completely disarms you without even trying. He doesn’t say anything when he leans into you, just rests his head against your shoulder like it’s second nature, like you were made to support him. The warmth of him seeps into your skin, and you swear your heartbeat stumbles, but he stays perfectly calm—his fingers idly seeking yours out, lacing them together in a loose but deliberate grip. It’s such a simple thing, the way he holds your hand, the way his thumb brushes absentmindedly against your skin, but it sends a rush of warmth straight to your cheeks. You try to focus on anything else, anything but the way he’s practically melting against you, so at ease, so soft—but then he sighs, the tiniest, most content sound, and you swear your heart nearly gives out. He shifts slightly, just enough to glance up at you through half-lidded golden eyes, his expression unreadable. And then, as if sensing your flustered state, he squeezes your hand once and murmurs, voice barely above a whisper, “You’re warm.” Simple. Quiet. But enough to wreck you completely.

𓍯𓂃 tsukishima kei

Tsukishima isn’t one for big displays of affection, but when he decides to fluster you? He doesn’t miss. It happens so fast you barely have time to process it—one second, you’re standing beside him in a crowded space, and the next, he’s leaning down, his height making it effortless for him to hover just over you. His breath brushes against your ear, his voice so low, so quiet, that it’s meant for you and no one else. “I love you.” Three simple words, but the way he says them—soft, deliberate, intimate—has your entire body locking up. You feel his smirk before you even see it, the faintest tilt of his lips as he pulls back just enough to watch your reaction, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement. He doesn’t need to tease, doesn’t need to say anything else—he just watches, waiting for the inevitable flush to creep up your neck, for the way your fingers twitch like you don’t know what to do with yourself. And then, as if he didn’t just ruin you in the middle of a public space, he straightens up, pushing his glasses up with an infuriating nonchalance. “What? Did you want me to say it louder?”

𓍯𓂃 hajime iwaizumi

Iwaizumi doesn’t even think about it—it’s instinct, second nature, the way his hand always finds its place on your waist. It doesn’t matter where you are or who’s around; his grip is firm, steady, possessive in a way that makes your heart race every single time. He’ll guide you through a crowd with an effortless pull, his fingers pressing just hard enough to make your breath catch. Or worse—he’ll stand behind you, his palm resting against your hip like it belongs there, his thumb absentmindedly stroking slow, teasing circles against your skin. And he acts so casual about it, barely even glancing at you while you’re left burning under his touch. But then—when he finally does look down at you, noticing the way you tense, the way your fingers grip at your clothes like you’re trying to compose yourself—he smirks, tilting his head slightly. “What’s with that look?” he murmurs, voice low, teasing. “You get flustered that easily?” His fingers tighten just slightly, a silent reminder of how close he is, and when you stammer out something incoherent, he just chuckles, leaning in to mutter, “Better get used to it, sweetheart.”

𓍯𓂃 semi eita

Semi doesn’t do things halfway—when he kisses you, he really kisses you. It’s never just a soft peck or a fleeting brush of lips; it’s deep, deliberate, and all-consuming. And the fact that he does it in public? That just makes it worse. One second, you’re standing there, minding your business, and the next, his hand is gripping your jaw, tilting your face up to his before his lips crash against yours. It’s not just a kiss—it’s claiming, his tongue sliding against yours with no hesitation, no shame, like he wants people to see. His fingers press into your skin, keeping you close, holding you in place as he kisses you like he has something to prove. And when he finally pulls back—leaving you breathless, your lips tingling, your entire body burning—he just smirks, brushing his thumb over your swollen bottom lip. “What?” he murmurs, voice low, teasing. “Too much for you?” His eyes gleam with amusement, knowing damn well he just wrecked you in front of everyone, and as he leans in again, lips barely an inch from yours, he adds, “Better get used to it, babe. I’m not done yet.”

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bunnysfairy · 4 months ago

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„I like your dress“ so you want to fuck me in a bathroom, with your hand over my mouth and your fingers inside me while I scratch my nails over your back?

THIS POST IS ABOUT LESBIAN SEX! MINORS & MEN DNI

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exocaliii · 1 month ago

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❦︎ And You Look Half Dead Half The Time (nsfw)

(pt. 1) (pt. 2)

| Kang No-eul / Guard 011 x fem!reader |

side! | Se-mi / Played 380 x fem!reader |

Summary: For six years, you've watched your best friend and only companion mourn a child she barely got to know. Now, you're given a chance that might finally rid her of this lifelong guilt.

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: death, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, smut, making-out, fingering + cunnilingus (r! receiving), bathroom sex, one use of Y/N even though I tried my best to avoid it lol, extreme jealousy/possessiveness, no-eul is not playing about her girl in this one LOL

A/N: finally reached the romance stuff in this one but there's still some build-up of course, hope you all enjoy and as always, i appreciate any type of feedback or comments, they make the writing worth it!! :D this is so self indulgent omg

—

When the platform begins to spin, you feel a firm grip on your hand, looking up to find Se-mi already staring at you with a calm expression on her face.

“Stick with me.”

You nod, and before you’re able to check on Min-su, you’re nearly thrown off your feet by the sudden stop of the surface you’re on.

“10 players.”

The boom of the announcer clears your senses, and as Thanos and Nam-gyu laugh and spin, you see another group of five waving their hands for more people. You shout at the loudest volume you’ve used since arriving here for them to come over, and with a tight grip on Se-mi’s hand, you drag her to the open room right across the arena. Thanos, Nam-gyu, and Min-su (who you can now see was hiding behind Se-mi) follow right along, and, thank goodness, the other team of 5 do the same.

“Are you okay?” You don’t respond to Se-mi's question because the answer should be obvious with the way you’re trembling, but she only nods in understanding. “Just stay calm, it’ll be fine.” You want to believe her, you truly do, but you see Min-su’s fear, and in that moment, you accept that this may be the game that kills you.

The lock clicks open.

Your group of ten steps out, stepping over the blood of those who lost the last round.

You want to retch, but you stay focused and get back on the platform.

With your hand in Se-mi’s, you block out the happy singing of Thanos and Nam-gyu, opting instead to pat Min-su’s back when you see him basically shaking like a leaf. He jumps, but turns to you with a grateful look in his eye. You pray that he lives, because someone like him should not die in a cold place like this.

“4 players.”

Your heart drops. Thanos glances back and forth between the three of you as Nam-gyu stands at his side. Your heart feels heavy in your chest, and your legs are stiff, ready to run. His eyes stop on Min-su, and you know what’s about to happen.

“You-”

“I’ll go.”

Se-mi barely has a chance to react before you rip your hand from hers and run to find another group. Somewhere in the bustle of the crowd, you swear you hear her call your name, but you’re too locked onto three men in the distance. They’re already in the room, but they’re calling for a fourth person. Fear threatens to strangle you as you run over, the countdown playing loud in the overhead speaker. Their eyes are desperate, arms open to beckon you over to save both your life and theirs.

At the last second, you basically ram into one of the men as you barrel into the room, one of them slamming it shut behind you not even a second before the lock clicks. No one speaks as shots ring out from outside the room, and you begin to come to terms with your act of sacrifice for someone you had just met yesterday.

Fuck, what were you thinking? Are you in this to win or not?

The lock clicks open, and you all step outside. There’s even more fresh blood on the ground, blood that you ignore as your eyes search the arena for your old group.

“Y/N!”

You spin fast enough to snap your neck at the sound of her voice, and Se-mi runs over to you followed by the rest of the group. You think she’s about to hug you but she stops just short of it, arms lowering back to her side awkwardly before she resigns to grabbing you by the shoulders instead. For a second, you stare at each other in silence, neither knowing what to say.

“Oh shit, that was too cool girl.” Thano’s voice ruins the moment, but before you all begin heading back to the platform, you hear a soft voice from behind Se-mi.

“Thank you.”

Min-su meekly looks at you with obvious guilt, and Se-mi drops her hands from your shoulders to take your hand as you all walk back towards the center. It’s comforting to have her hand in yours again (especially after you almost died letting go of it).

“It’s fine, I already saw the other group before leaving.” Obvious lie, but he didn’t need to know that.

As you all begin to spin again, Se-mi gives your hand a short squeeze before looking down at you with a gentle smile that, as always, almost looks like a smirk.

“I was right about you.” You chuckle at this and turn away to hide your reddened face, but of course, the moment doesn’t last very long.

“3 players.”

The three of you barely spare a glance at Thanos and Nam-gyu before you grab each other’s hands and run off, hearing the rapper scream a curse at your betrayal. You almost want to laugh, but you’re too focused on holding onto Se-mi and Min-su’s hands for dear life as you run towards one of the few open rooms still available.

They’re filling up too quickly, and out of the corner of your eye, you see two other groups scrambling towards the one room you have your sights set on. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you come to the horrifying realization that groups of three might be too small to fit everyone that was still alive, even if they were all paired up. The thought makes your legs move that much faster, but just as you’re about to reach your safe haven, a body collides with yours and sends you flying towards the floor.

10 seconds left.

“Min-su?!” He was on your left, but where is he?

7 seconds left.

“Get up, get inside the room!” Se-mi. You’re pretty sure it’s her rough hands that grab your sweater and pull you up.

5 seconds left.

“Where is he?! Min-su!” You stumble over your feet, your mind reeling as you’re bouncing back and forth between trying to find him and trying to follow Se-mi into the room.

3 seconds left.

“Wait! Wait, please help me!” He’s half on the ground, half fighting against a man trying to get up in front of him to enter a room to your right. You’re already in yours, and an arm wrapped tight around your waist prevents you from running out to save his life once again.

1 second left.

“Let go! Min-su!”

The buzzer sounds right as the door slams shut in your face.

The lock clicks shut.

Somewhere outside, you hear gunfire and the desperate cries of men and women who failed.

For a second, you think you can hear him begging for his life, but then a single shot rings out and his fate is sealed.

—

Somewhere in the haze of emotions, you continue to grasp onto her arm like a lifeline. Your head rings, and you don’t even hear the announcer’s call for each of the next two rounds. It’s Se-mi who makes sure you’re right next to her the entire time, no matter which group you join or which room you scramble into. She doesn’t bother to ask if you’re okay (because it is extremely obvious this time, with tear tracks on your cheeks and shallow eyes staring into the distance), but her firm hold on you still shows her underlying care. That, and the slight shake of her body reminds you that despite her previous bravado and confidence, she’s still human just like you.

When the game ends, you step over the blood of the losers to make it back to the main room (you wonder if you had stepped on Min-su’s as well - the thought of it makes you sick to your stomach).

Thanos greets the two of you with excitement even after you left him and Nam-gyu in the dust, but you don’t even have it in you to entertain his antics now. Your head was pounding, and the only thing keeping you from curling up into a ball on the spot was Se-mi’s arm around your shoulders; she was holding onto you like you would curl up and die if she let go, which you might.

When you both settle into her bed, you really begin to feel the weight of his absence.

“I’m sorry for grabbing you like that,” she says, her voice quiet as if you were a deer about to sprint away. “...You wouldn’t have made it in time-”

“I know.” You’re curt, almost rude, and you feel bad immediately for your outburst. It wasn’t her fault, you reminded yourself. It wasn’t her fault that your first selfless moment in this hellhole means nothing now. “I… I’m sorry. You saved my life. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that.” Her hand caresses yours, soothing you into finally allowing your tense body to relax.

Something about her gentle demeanor coaxes out a more peaceful side in you, and you lean your head on her shoulder. You’re pleasantly surprised at her lack of resistance, and something in your gut burns when she leans her head right back on yours.

For a second, you think about No-eul and feel a strange amount of guilt creeping up on you, but Se-mi changes her grip on your hand slightly to interlace your fingers and it all goes away. You owe nothing to her. Companionship isn’t something she should bar you from looking for when you face death at her hands everyday now.

What’s so wrong with finding your own comfort in the beautiful, kind, and unexpectedly soft woman sitting next to you?

—

350 million won.

It’s enough for those smugglers, enough for her, and so, it’s enough for you to change your vote.

When red LEDs light up your face and you begin exchanging your blue patch for a red one, you feel the weight of the entire situation crashing down on you.

You chose life this time. From now on, if you die, it won’t be of your own volition anymore. This fact disturbs you greatly, so you’re quick in pushing through the crowd to get right back to Se-mi’s side. You’re glad she chose to live too. If you made it out of here, you wouldn’t want to lose contact with her. Trauma bonds are pretty strong apparently.

—

When two groups of men start walking out of the bathrooms covered in blood and money begins to fill the pig again, you shuffle a bit closer to Se-mi, and her grip on your hand tightens.

Supposedly it was a brawl, and from the frantic head counts of both sides, the O’s had lost one extra man. The sight of a bloody Nam-gyu shuffling onto Thano’s bed, shaking from the drugs with a frantic, bloodthirsty look in his eyes made your stomach drop. Now, there was no idiotic rapper to take hold of his leash, and you were sure he would want to kill you two after you turned your backs on him twice.

The cold steel of the fork you took from dinner provided a comforting weight inside your pocket.

“Se-mi.” She turns towards you.

“Yeah?”

“Sleep on this side tonight, okay?” Your grip on her arm is tight and you know you must look completely shaken by now, but she still gives her signature confident smirk.

“Sure, but you better make it worth my while.”

Your face goes red and you scoff, making her chuckle. God, you’re glad you have someone like this by your side.

—

When the screams begin, you immediately dig into your pocket and pull out your makeshift weapon. You want to call out for her, but you’re terrified that if you make a single noise, you and her will be swarmed by the wolves tearing apart the people all around you.

Where the fuck are the guards?! No, who are you kidding, of course they would sit by and let you kill each other. Probably the highlight of their night. Under the fear, you feel so much anger and pain at the situation that you can barely focus.

No-eul’s face flashes in your mind once again but now, you’re beginning to struggle to differentiate her from the other murderers all around you.

No, no, no. You can’t think that way. She’s not like any of them.

“You traitor bitch!” You turn your head down to look for the familiar voice, and to your utter horror, Nam-gyu is standing right below you. Across from him (and cornered against the wall) is Se-mi. Even with the strobing lights, you can see the intense fear under her angry expression. “I’m gonna fucking gut you!”

When he charges at her, you make one of the easiest choices of your entire life and roll off the side of the bunk.

You nearly miss your landing, but your fork doesn’t and his scream of pain reveals that instantly. You take both him and yourself to the ground, but your heart is racing and you can still feel him bucking from beneath you, so you don’t get a chance to breathe before yanking the fork out of his shoulder and slamming it back down into the side of his neck. The feeling of it sinking it and spraying your hand with hot blood is sickening beyond belief, but you block out everything except the feeling of his squirming beneath you and raise the metal above your head again.

You aren’t sure how many times you bring it down on him, but a body colliding into yours knocks you out of your spiral.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Se-mi’s voice barely comprehends in your ears, but you can feel her arms around you clearly. “He’s dead, it’s okay, we’re okay.” Her hand rubs your back soothingly, and only then do you realize there are tears pouring down your cheeks.

Your chest heaves as you openly sob, clinging to her like a lifeline and unintentionally smearing the back of her sweater with Nam-gyu’s blood. You shut out everything but her voice, and even when the guards enter and fire into the air, you don’t find yourself flinching once, simply dropping to the floor still in her arms.

—

When some of the players gun down all the guards in the room, you hide in the corner with Se-mi (who was still whispering comforting words into your ears). You watch as players 120 and 456 take center stage in the room, shutting down the last bits of the riot and forcing the one square-mask guard onto his knees. They call for others to join them, others with military experience or even those with the faintest idea of how to use a gun.

Of course, you had military experience right alongside No-eul, but the ache in your body and the tight grip Se-mi has on you keeps you from getting up. Your head pounds and spins as your eyes begin trailing around the slaughterhouse of a room.

Dead people in green, dead people in pink. Your eyes linger on the guards and their triangle-masks, immediately recalling the shape No-eul had on hers.

What if…

No.

The moment the team of rebels leaves, you go to get up but a tight grip on your forearm drags you right back down.

“Hey, hey, where are you going?” Her eyes are confused but her voice is just as gentle as it’s been the entire time she sat there combing her fingers through your hair and whispering about how brave you were and how thankful she was. “Talk to me please, what’s wrong?”

“I just need to check something, that’s all.” She doesn’t look satisfied, but Se-mi lets you get up after you give her a brisk hug and a strained smile.

With a shaky breath, you begin to make your rounds. You can feel the eyes on you as you walk up the first guard and pull off their mask, letting out a quiet sigh of relief at the lack of familiarity in their dead eyes.

With each one, you grow more and more tense, steeling yourself for the possibility of seeing No-eul’s empty, dead eyes staring back at you.

It would be the thing that kills you. The loss of your reason to fight in the first place.

Kneeling down next to the final guard, you can barely breathe as your fingers brush against the edge of their mask. Your hands are shaking so bad and you curse yourself for your sudden lack of strength. You would die if it was her. You would pull that fork out of Nam-gyu’s neck and jam it in your own if it was her.

Shutting your eyes tightly, you tug it off and let it clatter to the side. Your breathing slows when you peek and immediately recognize the face as belonging to a younger man’s, not your No-eul.

Please God, give me this one thing and let her live. Let us leave with my blood money and never come back.

—

You can’t even feel joy or disappointment when the rebellion inevitably ends in a whimper.

456 is dragged in and from a quick glance around the room, you see that 001 and 390 are missing as well. 120 and 388 sit dejectedly not too far away from you, and you can’t help but feel for them; they were people, far stronger than you, that failed to be the heroes. You can’t judge them, you never even considered fighting alongside these brave people in the first place.

Now that everything has calmed down again and lights-out happens like every other night and not the bloodbath that ensued earlier, you’re far more aware of the sticky feeling of blood on your skin. Your sweater even feels slightly heavier, the entire front of it stained with deep red fluid.

“I-I need to wash this off.” Se-mi, who was almost drifting off next to you, shoots awake and gets up right behind you.

“I’ll come with you.” It’s an unspoken fact that she definitely would, but you’re still happy at the confirmation.

In the haze of everything that’s occurred, you completely forget that No-eul has been the only reason you’ve been able to get into the bathroom these days, and the only reason she lets you in is because you’re you. So, when you call out and the door opens as usual, you’re confused at her stiff posture. However, after a weird awkward silence, she steps aside to let both you and Se-mi in, almost slamming the door behind you two.

—

No-eul’s eyes trail you two as you enter the bathroom together, and she can barely control herself from charging in there and kicking 380 out altogether; she had warned you about people like her, so what were you still doing clinging to her side like that? Moreover, seeing the blood practically covering your entire front was like a gut punch.

She should’ve been there. She should’ve blown the heads off of whoever did that to you. She’s been careless, and she understands that now.

The worst she felt was during the Mingle game. Each time she had been sent in, her breath would hitch and she would hesitate for a few seconds at the entrance, eyes scanning the wide open area for any signs of you. Every single time she failed to spot the number 037 on the clothes of those she shot, a weight would be lifted off of her shoulders.

After the final round, the room doors had opened just before she was able to leave through the soldier’s door. She takes the chance to search for your kind face, and instead is faced with the sight of you practically hanging off of 380, a lost, soulless look in your eyes. Pain for your sadness mixes with some other ugly emotion, and for a second, she lets herself imagine how your expression would change if she sent a bullet through 380’s heart.

Would you cry out for that woman, or would you call No-eul’s name out of instinct, like a lost animal begging for comfort?

In the end, she simply leaves with her fellow soldiers, silently cursing herself for such a violent thought.

—

As you scrub the blood off your face, neck, and hands, you do your best to not let your gaze drift back over to Se-mi. She finishes cleaning up long before you, and you can feel her eyes on you as you scrub away. But no matter how hard you seem to scratch at your hands, the faint red tint just won’t come out. Your breathing grows heavy, and you begin to rub at it harder with the soap.

Your hands are still red.

The blood from his neck covers your hands, the sounds, the sounds-

“That’s good enough,” a soft voice sounds from beside you, gently taking your hands in hers as you shake.

“No, no, there’s still blood, I-, there’s still…” You turn your hands this way and that, examining them and the red tint you can’t seem to get rid of.

“It’s not blood, you’ve just been rubbing too hard…” She shushes you gently and her thumbs begin tracing circles on your raw palms. “I’m sorry you had to do that, I really am.”

You can only shake your head and press your face in the crook of her neck. It’s a familiar position, one you were in only last night but with a completely different woman. She’s just as soft as No-eul, but she doesn’t wrap her arms around your body and pull you close. Instead, her fingers find the zipper of your bloodied sweater and gently begin to pull it down. The motion makes you back away a little, and she lets your sweater fall to the ground after tugging it off you.

It’s freeing without the weight of all that blood on you, and your heart swells when she takes off her own jacket to put it on you. This is the kind of care you rarely find yourself receiving, and whenever you did, it was usually by the hand of only one other person. You would have never expected the cocky, confident girl you met two days ago would become this important to you.

You were right about her. Se-mi was the ever genuine, ever caring woman you hoped she was after your first real conversation together, and you wonder if the world finally decided to go easy on you for once by sending you a beacon of strength in the middle of this hellhole.

“Thank you, Se-mi,” you breathe out, the feeling of her fingertips grazing the skin of your arms still present long after her hands have dropped back to her side.

She doesn’t respond. Her gaze is still heavy on you, but this time, you hold eye contact and let yourself drown in her eyes. For a split second, you’re sure you see them dart down to your lips, and you think she might just eat you alive with the way she’s examining you.

In an act that surprises even yourself, it’s you who leans forward and presses your lips against hers. Cliche fireworks don’t go off, but the second she reciprocates by grabbing the back of your neck to deepen the kiss, you feel the tension between you two finally reach a high point, and it’s euphoric.

You hold each other with pure, unadulterated desire as one of her hands travel down to your waist, pulling you in. The kiss deepens and somewhere in the back of your mind, you think of No-eul. She was right outside that door, what if you were caught?

What the hell are you thinking about right now?

“You’re beautiful, so perfect,” she whispers, and her words make your heart beat that much faster. “My brave girl.” Se-mi breaks the kiss to press her lips against your neck now instead, drawing a moan from deep in your throat. She’s still holding onto you like her life depends on it.

Unfortunately, your mind is still whirling and you have to remind yourself once again that you owe No-eul absolutely nothing. She shouldn’t and wouldn’t be angry over you finding someone to love, who loved you in a place like this. Is it wrong to search for comfort when you’re so sure you might die tomorrow? Especially from someone like Se-mi, who has done nothing but protect you and care for you.

Your hands tangle in her hair as she slides a hand beneath your shirt-

“Player 380.”

You spin around as the door slams open, a gruff voice making you jump apart from Se-mi. You shouldn’t feel ashamed, but you do, especially when you can feel No-eul’s eyes trailing up and down your disheveled form, and you know she knows exactly what happened here.

“Get back to the room.” You look down to see her revolver gripped tightly in her hand, as if she’s fighting the urge to lift it.

“Just give us a couple more-”

“Now.” She practically growls out that last word, and you can hear a click in the silent bathroom as she loads her revolver at her side.

Se-mi is brave, but she’s still smart enough to realize that she’s being threatened and would not win a fight against the taller woman with a loaded gun. WIth her head held high, she takes your hand and begins walking around the guard, but No-eul steps in her way and shakes her head.

“037 stays.” You all pause, and Se-mi grips your hand tighter.

“What? What the fuck are you on about? Just let us go back to the room-”

“She stays. Now get out before I make you.” No-eul takes a step forward, hand raising to point the barrel of the gun in Se-mi’s face.

It’s difficult to hold herself back when she’s this close to doing what she wants with this random woman who’s begun impeaching on her world. The barrier holding you and No-eul together, apart from everyone else, has been disrupted, and she begins to wonder if you’ll actually hate her if she pulls the trigger now. She wants to, especially hearing you fucking moan for this woman.

Where else has she touched you?

Her trigger finger twitches.

“It’s okay, Se-mi,” you whisper, breaking your gaze from No-eul to look over at her.

First name basis? You really want her to kill this woman.

“Just go, I’ll see you in a bit.”

Se-mi looks at you, confusion apparent in her features, but your face is perfectly calm and even though that disturbs her a little, she accepts it. She’ll trust you to stay alive with this psycho.

“Okay, just call out for me if you need anything.” No-eul scoffs at this, earning a glare from Se-mi before she walks out the bathroom. She spares you one final glance over her shoulder, and with a nod from you, she exits.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, huh?!” You’re practically burning with anger at her behavior, but No-eul ignores your outburst and walks over to the door, turning the latch to lock it before turning back around to look at you. “You think ‘cause you have that mask on you can just go around pointing your gun at everyone?!”

“And what the hell were you doing?” She pulls her mask off, throwing it to the floor before pulling down her face covering. Now, you can actually see the anger simmering beneath her eyes, an accusatory look on her face as she steps closer. “Were you planning on having sex with her or something? This stranger you just met?”

Your face begins to burn for a different reason now.

“That’s… that’s none of your business. I’m a grown woman, I can decide what I want to do or not do.” Your voice is far too unsure and she laughs sarcastically. Running a hand through her sweaty hair, she approaches to stand right in front of you. Your breathing slows as her eyes trail down your face, locking onto the number 380 right above your heart. Her lips curl into a frown and she grabs Se-mi’s sweater, looking like she wanted to burn a hole through the number on your chest.

To her, it’s a reminder of her failure to protect you as she swore she always would, and now, in the wake of this failure, another person has come along and threatened to take her place - a place in your life she would kill anyone to keep.

“Take this off,” she breathes out. The air is tense, and you almost want to deny her just to see what she would do, but fuck, she almost looks genuinely hurt and you can’t say no now.

With your eyes still locked onto hers, you slowly pull the sweater off and let it drop to the ground at your feet. Her eyes are still pinned to your chest, but now you’re so close that you can feel her soft breathing on your face. You swallow harshly and press your face against her shoulder, bunching up her pink tracksuit in your hands as you pull her closer. The feeling of her so close again kills all the tension in your shoulders. This is the safest you’ve felt in 24 hours, and it’s in the arms of a woman who’s been killing people like you the entire time.

You’re almost a bit ashamed, but what’s wrong with being a bit selfish for once?

You’re shaking in her arms when she pulls back slightly to cup your wet cheeks in her hands. You hadn’t even realized you had started crying again, but now, she’s looking down at your glassy eyes and swollen lips with so much intensity that you forget why you were crying in the first place. Her thumb swipes a tear off your cheek before she leans down, lips brushing against yours.

“My beautiful girl.”

Finally, nine years after the day you met, she presses her lips against yours and claims you as hers. Faintly, you feel your back collide with the wall behind you as her tongue slips in your mouth. You’re holding onto her suit for dear life as she practically devours you, and you wonder how you were ever angry at this woman. It’s far more intense than the softness you experienced earlier with Se-mi, and you’re beginning to feel the effects of being pent up for so long.

It’s not like you’ve never had sex with her before (to be fair, it’s only happened once), but this was far too emotional to be compared to the drunken haze you were both in when she fucked you over the seat of her van. There were no kisses shared then, no gentle caress of your face before she took you for herself.

You’re dragged from your own thoughts when you feel a hand slide under your shirt and bra, gasping into her mouth as a cold hand cups your breast, roughly pinching your nipple between two fingers. You whimper right into her ear as her lips move down to your neck, sucking and biting as you openly pant. She’s practically surrounded you by now, but it’s not enough.

With trembling hands, you grab the zipper of her pink suit and yank it down to reveal her slender body underneath. She practically tears the black turtleneck underneath the suit off as you stare. Your fingers scratch down her toned torso and you drink in the wonderful groan that leaves her mouth. As you’re preoccupied, she tugs on the hem of your sweatpants, pulling them down right along with your panties in one pull.

Faintly, as her hands grip the plush of your thighs, you try to determine if you’ve ever felt such strong feelings of desire, of love, of anything with anybody.

No, you’re sure you’ve felt this before.

Your eyes shoot open as she calls your name. Somewhere in the haze, No-eul has dropped to her knees in front of you, and now, she’s looking at you like you hold the world in your hands.

“Do you still love me?” A pause, and her fingers press harder into your thigh, cold leather gloves long forgotten on the floor. “Can you still accept me?”

Every moment that you remember being so close to that overwhelming emotion, No-eul is right there next to you.

“I’ve loved you since the day we met.”

A tear falls from her pained eyes, but you aren’t given the opportunity to wipe it away before she leans forward and presses her open mouth against your core. A gasp leaves your mouth and you immediately tangle your fingers in her short hair. It’s a bit too much to take in all at once - the woman you’ve loved for years is fucking you, and this time, you think she might actually love you back.

No, who are you kidding, you know she loves you. Maybe not as much as you love her, but she has to love you if she’s on her knees like this for you.

With the comfort of this knowledge, you lean your head back and lose yourself in the feeling of her tongue deep inside you, strong hands holding you still against the wall even if your legs feel like giving out. As your moans and pants fill the room, you beg internally that Se-mi isn’t waiting right outside the door to walk you back (or at least let the sound-proofing be decent).

Unsurprisingly, after a couple years without any genuine intimacy with anyone (you couldn’t bear to let anyone fuck you after No-eul did), you reach your peak quickly. It doesn’t feel like some triumphant moment; your legs shake as the tight coil in your stomach unwinds and it’s satisfying to some extent, but you can’t stop the sudden rush of tears that follow.

Why did your acceptance of your feelings for her have to come in a place like this - covered in the blood of someone you killed with your own two hands?

Your legs finally give out in your grief, but she’s quick to catch you, leaning back to properly sit down on the floor as she carefully guides you onto her lap. For a moment, you just tuck your head in her neck and cry as a hand gently rubs your back.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” No-eul whispers, caught up in her own guilt for leading you down the same hateful path she accepted long ago. Why did you have to love her? Why did you have to follow her road towards self-destruction, the one she vowed to shield you from?

You want to tell her that she has nothing to be sorry about because you chose all of this on your own, but you can’t bring yourself to speak. You’re worried that if you open your mouth now, all you’ll do is start spouting nonsense about how much you love her and how much of your humanity you would forsake to protect her dream.

Instead of further exposing yourself, you gently take the hand she’s kept on your waist and guide it down lower once again. To her credit, she understands right away and you’re given no time to prepare for the two long, slender fingers she pushes inside you. The sound of your sharp inhale right next to her ear must’ve been enough confirmation that you were okay, because she immediately starts moving them up and down inside you, rubbing gently against your still sensitive walls.

Your hands wrap around her back and grip her shoulders as your hips begin to move in tandem with her hands, your heavy breathing a stark contrast against her soft one. The hand she had on your back is still there, soothing you until your tears turn from ones of sadness to ones of pleasure.

As the high you’re chasing starts to get closer, you tear your nails down her back. Even though she’s still the same person as she was minutes ago, something feels different this time.

“Please don’t stop, please-”

“I won’t, I swear.” The hand on your back flies down to grip your hips to hold you steady as your movements grow more frantic. “I’ll never let you go, not for anything.”

You almost fall forward when she suddenly leans back, but you catch yourself on her shoulders once again. This time, she looks you square in the eyes as she pushes you over the edge, her gaze filled with an emotion you know too well.

“I love you,” she breathes out, and this is all you need to fall apart in her hands. “I’m in love with you, I can’t let you go, I won’t.”

In the afterglow of the moment, she wraps her arms around your waist and pulls you right up against her body.

“Even if you can’t love me anymore, I’ll continue holding onto you for the rest of my life.”

You smile at her words. You feel more content than you ever have before.

It wouldn’t be so bad to die in this place now.

—

A/N: my bad min-su fans and nam-guy fans, its for the plot y'all😭😭also if im being completely honest, I started writing writing this longass story just for smut with no-eul but it got so unexpectedly deep cuz I couldn't handle writing it with no build-up or emotional tension or ANYTHING

hope y'all enjoyed and LOL to the fellow FREAKS out there I hope the smut was alright cuz that was the most difficult part for me... LMK WHAT U THINK!! pt. 3 is coming in SEVEN MONTHS LMFAO😭😭😭SEASON 3 SAVE ME... SAVE ME SEASON 3

also if u request feel free to add details and stuff I might be able to build it into a longass story like this (but WOW this took too long) also I LOVE TO WRITE SAD SHT!!! SEND ME SAD SHT ILL LOVE IT!!

Taglist: @asvterias

#squid game season 2 #squid game x reader #se mi squid game #se mi x reader #player 380 #kang no eul #kang no eul x reader #guard 011 #squid game #wlw #angst #smut #kang noeul x reader #semi x reader

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sunny-yyy · 1 month ago

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‧₊˚⋅♡ ࣪𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒔‧₊˚⋅♡ ࣪

♡︎ 𝑺𝒆-𝒎𝒊 𝒙 𝑭𝒆𝒎! 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒍𝒘 ♡︎

After getting out of the first game, you realized that people were dying faster and faster, and others were crazy about money, even the ones stained with blood, it was full of people in debt up to their ears, you were alone here, for a while.

In the game red light green light you helped a young girl who was pushed by another participant, at the last moment you managed to grab the collar of her sweatshirt with the inscription 380, when you left the hall safe and sound, she was really grateful to you, but it was obvious that she didn't say anything about it, she thanked you briefly and dryly, you didn't know that you caught her eye, and she had a better plan to reward you for saving her life

At night, when you were falling asleep on the third floor of a bunk bed, above two other players, you heard someone coming up the stairs leading to the higher beds, you clutched the fork you stole from the food container before, afraid that someone was trying to kill you, you were surprised to see Se-mi, she smiled broadly and slowly climbed onto your bed, "Se-mi, what are you doing here, you shouldn't get out of bed at night, someone might notice." She didn't let you finish as she crashed her lips onto yours in a heated kiss, she quietly whispered words that made the fabric of your panties feel damp.

"If you will be such a good girl and be quiet for me, I promise I will show you how much I am grateful" without waiting for your reaction, she slipped her hand under the fabric of your green pants, you saw her bit her lower lip piercing, her slender long fingers ran over along your wet folds, you were wet for her, she felt your skin getting sticky

You could smell her perfume, her hair fell gently on her forehead, you couldn't say the words, only gasp for air, feeling her hands wander inside your pants "Such a good little princess, you are so wet and ready for me, aren't you ? God I wish to just..." she slowly moved closer to your ear to start teasing you, her fingers started drawing circles on your clit "just to get down on you and feel that pretty, tight pussy on my lips and tongue, feel how sweet you are, would you let me sweetheart?" You nodded immediately, feeling your lungs running out of air from the excitement, you spoke quietly so as not to wake anyone up "Se-mi what if someone hears..." she bit your lower lip, kissing you once more as her lips moved away and your saliva connected, she looked at you

“So, be good and be quiet…accept my thanks” she slid two fingers inside you without warning, feeling your warm wet walls hug her skin from the inside, you grabbed the sheets and pursed your lips, trying to be as quiet as possible, she slid your pants halfway down, her elbow trapping your legs under knees, bending you towards her face, you felt her breath hit your pussy

"S..Se-mi...please" She laughed softly, placing short sweet kisses on your thighs and in the middle of your folds, seeing you bend under her touch, "please what baby? use your pretty mouth, and say it. "

"Please...f..fuck met...taste me" Hearing your words, she didn't wait any longer, her tongue ran from the very bottom to the top, she sucked on your delicate spot, causing your legs to start shaking, you felt cold the metal from her lip ring, her piercing that was hidden inside, on her tongue brushing against your wet pussy

"Fuck you taste heavenly... I could eat you out all day and night, you're like a fucking drug to me..." despite your efforts, your throat let out soft moans, your hands tangled in her short black hair, guiding her head towards yourself, you started moving your hips as you feel your orgasm coming, "I'm so close...let me cum," she laughed, licking you from inside, her tongue was fucking you mercilessly and her fingers were massaging your thighs, you felt her piercing catch against your pussy, sending shivers down your entire body "Wait just a moment... I'm so fucking hungry" She moaned quietly, giving you a sign of how much she wanted you, her own panties were slowly getting wetter, she started rubbing herself through her own pants with her free hand, she spit at you, and her angelic lips kissed your folds again, she felt you was so close "Cum princess...cum all over my face like big, brave, good girl you are...now."

hearing her words, you let out a soft moan that stopped halfway down your throat, your juices flooded her tongue and mouth, but that's what she wanted, when she pulled away, you saw her lick her lips, just like after the best meal of her life, she took her hand away with your own pants "Next time I'll save you and you'll have to return the favor." She whispered, smiled and jumped down the stairs, returning to her own bed, just like nothing happened between you both

You fell asleep, unable to believe that it wasn't a dream, all you could think about was her angelic lips, her voice that raised the hairs on your body like the wind, you knew that you would definitely return her favor.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐝 ˖ ࣪ ‹ 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡

Thank you so much for reading <3 hope you like it

#lesbian #wlw #semi #squid game #squidgame x reader #se mi x reader #se mi squid game #won ji an #kpop #netflix #squid game smut #se mi smut #sesbian lex #semi squid game

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mythicalmaven · 2 months ago

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Gotta Be You - Charles Leclerc (ONE)

Let's go for a new series! <3 I always love writing friends/enemies to lovers, so that's what this is, yet again lol😂❤️ For my inspiration I got to give lots of credit to @vroomvro0mferrari, because her series Vexing Vacation gave me lots of inspo for the shared vacation thingie!

masterlist | promptlist ↳pairing: charles leclerc x female!gasly!reader ↳word count: 6,3K ↳warnings: not much yet honestly, arguing, tension maybe ↳side info: friends to enemies to lovers, semi slow burn? (not really slowburn, but it has build up until the actual lovers things unfold), the reader is Pierre's younger sister, reader is Arthur LeClerc's childhood best friend, Charles is her former crush, Charles is a jealous ass sometimes, age gap between reader and Charles (5 years, 22 and 27) ↳summary: In which you go on a shared holiday with both your and your brother's friend group, forced to be confronted with your former teenage crush Charles LeClerc yet again. The only problem is? You can't stand him nowadays, until you suddenly can.

Arthur’s apartment was as chaotic as ever, half-packed bags and discarded jackets strewn across the floor. You threw yourself onto the couch with a dramatic groan, your face buried in a pillow.

“I regret this already,” you whined, the words muffled against the soft fabric.

Arthur’s laugh carried from the doorway. “You’ve been here two minutes, and you’re already complaining? Impressive.”

Rolling onto your back, you shot him a glare. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. A whole month of dealing with your insufferable brother? I must’ve been out of my mind.”

Arthur leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed and grinning like the Cheshire cat. “You’ll survive. There are enough people going to keep you distracted. Plus, you get to spend a whole month with me. What more could you possibly want?”

“Maybe a holiday without Charles,” you shot back, only half-joking.

Arthur smirked. “Come on, he’s not that bad. Okay, maybe he’s a bit… a lot.”

"Arthur... I can't think of one thing that's not annoying about your brother" You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to dig his own grave further.

The Monegasque chuckled and rolled his eyes "Nuh uh! I do remember very vividly how you were gushing about, and I quote 'astonishingly hot' my brother looked in that suit during christmas"

You huffed and coughed, throwing the pillow that was under your head towards Arthur "First of all that was 2 years ago" you said, rolling onto your back, staring up at the ceiling “Besides, the only thing worse than Charles, is Charles knowing he’s handsome. He’s insufferable, and he’s fully aware of it. That smirk of his? Pure evil.”

Arthur snorted. “Yeah, he definitely knows. But let’s be honest, you’re not wrong. The guy could probably charm his way out of murder if he tried.”

You groaned again, flopping back onto the couch. “Can't I just stay here, and watch the house? Doesn't your fake plant need a plant sitter, to fake water it?" you joked.

Arthur plopped down beside you, his grin softening slightly. “You’ll be fine. I’ll protect you. I’ll even create a no-Charles zone if it helps.”

You laughed despite yourself, shoving his shoulder. “You’re an idiot.”

“An idiot you’re lucky to have,” he replied with a wink.

You smiled at him, rolling your eyes once again. He was true, you were lucky to have him, but you also weren't so lucky with who his brother was.

“But you have to admit,” Arthur continued, “you kind of love how much he gets under your skin. You wouldn’t have this much energy to complain if you didn’t care.”

Your gaze softened as you looked at him, and for a moment, your mind wandered back to where it all started. You and Arthur had been inseparable since you were kids.

The first time you met Arthur, you were eight years old, tagging along with Pierre to one of his karting races. Arthur, ten at the time, had been sitting on a crate, furiously tinkering with his kart while Charles shouted something from across the paddock. He looked up as you approached, his face smeared with grease, and grinned like he’d known you forever.

“Hi! I’m Arthur!” he announced, shoving his hand out for you to shake.

From that moment on, you were glued to his side. Arthur became your partner in crime, the one you told all your secrets to, and the brother you never asked for but somehow desperately needed.

Of course, being best friends with Arthur meant spending time around Charles, too.

You were fifteen when it happened—when you realized you had a crush on the unattainable Charles Leclerc. He was nineteen then, fully immersed in his F1 career and everything that came with it. He had this effortless charm, a confidence that made it impossible to look away.

You knew it was silly, that he’d never see you as anything more than Arthur’s kid best friend. But the crush lingered, stubborn and unrelenting.

By the time you were sixteen, you and Charles had started spending more time together, moments where the age gap didn’t feel so insurmountable. He’d joke with you, tease you about your karting attempts, and you couldn’t help but think… maybe. Maybe if you were older, it could be something.

“Maybe if you were older,” he’d said once, his voice light but his words heavy. “But you’re Pierre’s little sister, and Arthur would kill me. Besides, you’re like family.”

The words stung, but deep down, you understood. And then there was that night when you were eighteen—too many drinks, a shared laugh, and the moment you almost kissed. But it was over before it began, cut short by the sound of someone calling Charles’ name.

You never talked about it, burying the memory alongside the growing ache in your chest.

When you were eighteen, you finally let it go. You and Charles were just friends, so it seemed. You started dating other guys, convinced that the feelings you had for Charles were a thing of the past, which they seemed to be. But that was when Charles started to change.

He became distant, colder. His teasing shifted into something sharper, tinged with something you couldn’t quite understand. You started arguing more, getting annoyed by the weirdest little things. The playful insults and your arguments became the foundation of your relationship—barbed words masking unresolved tension.

Now, years later, it was all just… frustrating. You didn’t understand him, and you didn’t want to. Yet you both couldn't seem to let it each other be. Even though you were now respectively 21 and 26, you both had this childish need to keep pushing each others buttons.

The sound of the doorbell snapped you out of your thoughts. Arthur jumped up, grinning. “Showtime. Come on, let’s get this circus started.”

You followed him to the door, your heart sinking as soon as it swung open. There he was—Charles Leclerc, the devil himself, smirk firmly in place. Beside him stood Pierre and Kika, both smiling warmly.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath. “Let the torture begin.”

Pierre and Kika made their way in, following Arthur to the living room, leaving you standing there alone with Charles.

Charles’s eyes flicked to you, his smirk widening. “Miss me already?”

You rolled your eyes at the Monegasque driver, scoffing "I’d miss you more if you came with a mute button."

Before Charles had the chance to reply to your comment, Dennis Hauger appeared behind Charles, greeting both of you with a smirk. Saved by the bell

"HAUG!" you exclaimed happily, making your way over to him, embracing him.

Dennis returned the hug immediately, settling his arms around your waist "Hi there, frenchie" he chuckled back at you, using of his standard nickname for you.

You tucked your head in the crook of his neck "You just saved me from the devil, thanks" you whispered jokingly to him, low enough for Charles to not hear.

What you didn't notice tho, was the way Charles clenched his jaw at the sight in front of him, or the way he immediately made his way out of the hallway, trying to get away from the interaction in front of him. It was jealousy, pure jealousy. Something he was trying to deny with all his willpower.

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The house had been buzzing with activity for the past hour as everyone settled into their rooms. Most of the group had scrambled to claim their ideal space as soon as they walked in, leaving you and Kika to handle the grocery run. You didn’t mind—there wasn’t a room you particularly wanted, and you figured Arthur would sort it out for you while you were gone.

When you returned and put everything away, you made your way to the living room, where Arthur was lounging on the couch next to Dennis. You perched on the armrest beside him, your hands on your hips.

Arthur didn’t even look at you before sighing dramatically. “I’m sorry in advance,” he muttered, sounding uncharacteristically guilty.

You raised an eyebrow. “I haven’t even said anything yet, and you’re already apologizing. That’s reassuring.”

Arthur finally glanced up, a smirk creeping onto his face. “You weren’t going to ask me about your room for the month?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, catching the teasing tone in his voice. “Okay, and if I was? I already told you I don’t care which room I get. I’m not picky.”

Dennis snorted from his seat. “Oh, you’ll care soon enough.”

Confused, you glanced between them, their smirks only growing. “What are you two on about? Just tell me where the room is, and I’ll figure it out myself.”

Arthur shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. “Upstairs. There are two bedrooms on that floor. Yours is the one on the right.”

“Thanks,” you said, pushing off the armrest. “Honestly, boys, it can’t be that bad.”

As you walked away, you heard Arthur mutter behind you, “Sweet, innocent girl.”

The comment made you roll your eyes, but you brushed it off. Surely they were just being dramatic. When you reached the room, you stepped inside and surveyed the space. It was far from bad—it was actually quite nice. The room was spacious, with large windows that let in plenty of light. You noticed a set of balcony doors and walked over to them, opening them to find a stunning view of the beach. The balcony extended to the next room, but that wasn’t anything that bothered you.

Everything about the room seemed perfect. What were they even talking about?

Feeling satisfied, you turned your attention to the rest of the space, spotting a door near the wardrobe. It must lead to the bathroom. Curious, you opened it, stepping inside—and froze in your tracks.

There, in the middle of the bathroom, stood Charles, unpacking his toiletries into the cabinet. His back was to you, but the sight of him was enough to make your stomach drop. You quickly scanned the room and spotted another door on the opposite wall, clearly leading to his bedroom.

Oh. That’s what they meant.

“No way. This is not happening,” you huffed, throwing your hands in the air.

Charles turned at the sound of your voice, his expression shifting from surprise to irritation. “What are you doing here?” he snapped.

"About to murder either you, or the idiot that came up with the clever idea to put me in a room next to most insufferable person on mother earth" you snapped back at him.

Charles felt slightly hurt at your insult, he knew he caused this himself, but he figured that trying to get over you was easier when you hated him than when you were your way too sweet self.

Charles rolled his eyes, going back to his unpacking. "Might as well consider killing Joris then, because up until you came barging in, I thought he would be staying in that room" he said, rolling his eyes, mindlessly continuing to unpack his stuff

You crossed your arms, glaring at his nonchalant attitude. “Well, congratulations on your little upgrade. This arrangement is absolutely not happening. I’m switching rooms.”

“Good luck with that,” Charles muttered. “But if you’re planning to kill Joris, I’d like to watch.”

You ignored his sarcasm, muttering curses under your breath as you stormed out of the bathroom and downstairs into the kitchen. Your frustration was boiling over as you barged in, startling the group gathered around the table. Pierre, Kika, Arthur, Dennis, and Joris all looked up at you in varying states of confusion.

“Joris,” you snapped, pointing a finger at him. “I will kill you.”

Joris blinked, holding his hands up in defense. “What did I do?”

“Apparently you figured it was a good idea to take the last decent room, and left me with the one upstairs,” you hissed. “Which, by the way, shares a bathroom with Charles.”

Arthur burst into laughter, nearly doubling over. “You just figured that out? Oh, this is gold.”

Joris’ confused expression turned sheepish. “Okay, wait. I didn’t know that if I didn’t take the upstairs room, you’d end up with it. I thought the downstairs one was just the last one left.”

“And you didn’t think about who would be upstairs with Charles?” you snapped, your tone laced with sarcasm.

Joris shrugged, an amused grin tugging at his lips. “I mean... I thought you’d appreciate the proximity to him.”

You groaned, turning to Pierre, who was clearly trying to stifle his laughter. “Pierre, switch rooms with me. Please.”

Pierre leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Yeah, no. That’s not happening. Kika and I have a nice setup downstairs, and I’m not about to share a bathroom with anyone. We need our privacy.”

“I need privacy too!” you argued, your voice rising in frustration.

“It’s different,” Pierre said, shooting you a pointed look. “Couples need privacy for... other things.”

“Ew. Stop. I don’t want to know,” you groaned, covering your ears dramatically.

You spun around to Arthur, narrowing your eyes. “You. Switch with me.”

Arthur raised his hands, laughing. “No can do. Charles would murder me. I snore too loud, and he’s all about his beauty sleep. He’d kick me out within a day.”

Your gaze shifted to Dennis, who immediately held up his hands. “Don’t even think about it. I’ve got the best room in the house—big bed, balcony, bubble bath. I’m not giving that up.”

You groaned loudly, throwing your head back. “You’re all useless.”

He leaned back smugly, grinning as if he’d just won the lottery. Then, as if to soften the blow, he added, “Well, I would’ve offered to let you stay in my room with me, but I think that would be the cause of my death.” His eyes flicked pointedly to your brother.

“Fair point,” Pierre said flatly, without missing a beat.

You rolled your eyes, exasperated. “No, that’s off-limits. But sharing a bathroom—with connecting doors—with the one guy you’ve always said was ‘off-limits’ is somehow not an issue? You’re a hypocritical ass.”

Pierre shrugged, a smug grin tugging at his lips. “First of all, sleeping in someone’s bed is completely different than sharing a bathroom,” he countered, folding his arms.

“And second,” he added with a knowing look, “the only reason I ever said that was because you had a little teenage crush on my best friend. And let’s be honest, at the time, he was way too old for you. But...” He trailed off, chuckling to himself. “I guess sticking to that would make me a bit of a hypocrite, considering I’m dating one of your friends now, and our age gap is even bigger.”

You groaned loudly, knowing you couldn’t win this side of the argument. “Whatever,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “That doesn’t change the fact that you know he’s the one person I want to avoid the most. You know I hate him,” you complained. “I can’t even stand the idea of his existence, let alone sharing a goddamn bathroom with him.”

“Relax,” Pierre said with a smirk. “It’s just a bathroom. There’s a lock on the door. You’ll survive.”

“Exactly,” came Charles’ voice from behind you. You spun around to find him leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed and an infuriatingly smug look on his face. “It’s not like sharing a bathroom means we’re obligated to shower together.”

“Oh, don’t tempt me,” you snapped. “It might be worth it just to drown you.”

The group erupted in laughter, and Charles rolled his eyes. “You’re acting like a child. Just knock before you go in. Problem solved.”

You glared at him, furious “Why are you even meddling, you weren't even part of this conversation, are you just lurking around waiting to butt in on conversations?” you snapped.

Charles smirked, clearly enjoying your frustration. “Not my fault you’re loud enough to hear from every other room,” he replied, his tone light but with an edge of sarcasm.

Your hands balled into fists at your sides as you shot him a glare. “God, you’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here we are,” he quipped, unfazed by your fury.

You sighed loudly "See, this is what I mean, this is what y'all are burdening me with" you complained, glaring at him once more, your frustration bubbling over. “You’re the last person I’d ever want to share a bathroom with.”

Charles smirked, stepping further into the kitchen, inching closer to you, until he was close enough to whisper in your ear. “Good thing it’s not up to you, then.”

Your hands balled into fists at your sides as you shot him a glare, your voice sharp and dripping with annoyance. “Fuck you, Charles.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider as he tilted his head slightly, feigning innocence. “Tempting,” he drawled, his voice low and teasing, “but I don’t think you could handle it.”

Pierre clapped his hands together, interrupting the argument. “Alright, enough. Give it a try for a few days. If it’s really that bad, we’ll figure something out. But I doubt it’ll be the end of the world.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Fine. But if I end up committing a murder, just know it’s on all of you.”

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After the heated argument downstairs, you stormed up the stairs to your designated bedroom, Arthur trailing behind you with his ever-present smug smirk. His long strides brought him into the room before you could even process your frustration fully. He flopped unceremoniously onto your bed, bouncing slightly as he sprawled out, his arms behind his head like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Meanwhile, you busied yourself with unpacking your suitcase, each item you placed in the wardrobe an outlet for your simmering annoyance. The rhythmic sound of hangers sliding against the bar was oddly soothing—until you caught Arthur watching you with that infuriating grin plastered across his face.

"What?" you snapped, not even turning to face him.

Arthur’s eyes twinkled with mischief. "Oh, nothing. Just waiting for you to protest again"

You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt. Before you could even begin to voice your frustration, Arthur sat up, one hand raised in mock surrender. "Nope! Let me stop you right there. This wasn’t just on me.”

Without thinking, you grabbed a pair of joggers from your suitcase and lobbed them at him. The fabric smacked him square in the face with a satisfying thwack.

“Merde!” he exclaimed, his laughter spilling out as he dramatically tossed the joggers aside. “Violence is not the answer, you know.”

“Neither is being useless,” you shot back, crossing your arms. "Arthur, you could have at least tried something! Anything would have been better than this.”

He leaned back against the headboard, folding his arms as if settling in for a long discussion. “Trust me, I did. But there wasn’t much to work with. Your brother doesn’t want to switch because—well, come on, you know why. He’s here with his girlfriend, and honestly, he made a fair point.”

You made a disgusted face, wrinkling your nose. “Fair point or not, it still sucks for me.”

Arthur shrugged nonchalantly. “And then there’s Joris. He’s obviously got a thing for Gigi, and guess what? Gigi sleeps downstairs. Perfect excuse for him to ‘accidentally’ run into her more often.”

“Gross,” you muttered, shoving another shirt into the wardrobe.

Arthur grinned, clearly enjoying your irritation. “And let’s be real: Inès and Gigi met Charles today. Can you imagine how awkward it’d be for either of them to share a bathroom with him? What if they walk in each other accidentally. That’s like… social torture. At least you’ve known him for years.”

You spun around, throwing your hands in the air. “I’M UNCOMFORTABLE TOO, ARTHUR!”

“Yeah, but that’s just you two being… you two,” he quipped, gesturing vaguely between you. “It’s a highly unlogical—”

“Illogical,” you corrected sharply.

“Whatever.” He waved a hand dismissively. “It’s an illogical issue between the two of you. At least you know him well enough to, I don’t know, coexist?”

You exhaled sharply, knowing he wasn’t entirely wrong but unwilling to admit it. “Fine. But Dennis? He’s my friend! He could have helped me out instead of hogging the nicest room in the house.”

Arthur snorted. “You know Dennis and Paul! I’m pretty sure they're just quietly rooting for some ‘enemies to lovers’ drama between you and Charles. Probably think it’s entertaining"

You stared at him in disbelief, heat rising to your cheeks. “Oh my God. Why do you all think this is some slow-burn romance novel? I’m not in love with him anymore. That was just a stupid teenage crush!”

Arthur grinned wider, clearly delighted. “Sure, sure. But that doesn’t mean you two don’t have… something.”

“Ugh!” You grabbed a pillow and launched it at him, but he easily dodged, laughing as he slid off the bed to avoid further projectiles.

“Relax, I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking,” he teased, leaning casually against the wall. “And for the record, I would have swapped with you. But Charles would kill me. You know how I snore, and—let’s be real—we’ve already lived together long enough. He’d probably prefer sharing a bathroom with you than enduring that again.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “I just don’t get it. He hates me just as much as I hate him. Why would he rather share with me than you?”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, his knowing smirk returning. “Oh, I have my theories. But I’m staying out of it.”

“That’s not helpful,” you muttered, exasperated.

Arthur chuckled, pushing off the wall. “Look, you could always sleep on the couch. But if you do…” He paused, tilting his head thoughtfully. “You’re letting him win.”

“Fair point,” you admitted begrudgingly.

Arthur patted your shoulder as he walked toward the door. “Good luck surviving the week. Don’t kill each other—well, at least not where anyone can see.”

Once he was gone, the silence of the room felt heavy. You sighed, glancing toward the adjoining bathroom door—the one that connected your room to Charles’.

As if on cue, the faint sound of running water reached your ears. You groaned inwardly, already dreading the inevitable awkward encounters. Maybe Arthur was right. Maybe this was all just some cosmic joke meant to test your patience.

But as you sank onto the edge of the bed, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of something else—something unsettling that you didn’t want to name. Whatever it was, you shoved it aside, determined to prove that you could handle this without giving anyone the satisfaction of watching you squirm.

For now, you focused on unpacking the rest of your things, trying to ignore the quiet tension creeping in through the bathroom door.

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Later that day, the dinner table was alive with chatter, forks scraping plates, and glasses clinking as the group settled into an easy rhythm of conversation. The garden outside glowed under the string lights Pierre had painstakingly strung earlier, their warm light casting a soft glow over everyone seated at the table. Plates were piled high with food, the occasional burst of laughter cutting through the gentle hum of evening crickets.

You sat between Dennis and Arthur, trying your best to ignore the magnetic pull of Charles, seated directly across from you. He was deep in conversation with Joris about the best overtaking strategies, his hands gesturing animatedly as he spoke. You told yourself you weren’t paying attention, but your eyes betrayed you, flickering to him more often than you’d like.

Arthur leaned over, breaking your reverie. “You’ve barely touched your plate,” he teased, nodding toward your half-eaten dinner.

“Maybe I lost my appetite after sitting across from that,” you said pointedly, your fork gesturing vaguely in Charles’ direction.

Charles, sharp as ever, caught the jab immediately. His green eyes glinted with amusement as he leaned back in his chair, resting an arm lazily on the table. “Careful,” he drawled. “That attitude of yours might scare away any remaining appetite you have.”

Dennis snickered quietly beside you, earning a glare from you and a soft punch to his shoulder. “Don’t encourage him,” you muttered.

“Who, me?” Dennis asked innocently.

The banter escalated as the evening wore on. Drinks began to flow more freely—wine for most, a few beers for the others—and snacks were passed around as the group moved to the garden chairs scattered across the lawn. The stars above provided the perfect backdrop, but you were too caught up in the ebb and flow of conversation to appreciate them fully.

You and Charles kept up your usual sniping, each comment sharper than the last. It wasn’t long before Pierre, clearly exasperated, threw up his hands. “Enough, you two. I swear, if you keep this up, we’ll have to start taking bets on which one of you snaps first.”

“I’m not snapping,” you retorted, crossing your arms.

Charles smirked, taking a leisurely sip of his drink. “Neither am I. I’m having the time of my life.”

The group burst into laughter, easing the tension momentarily. But across the garden, Dennis leaned toward Arthur, his voice dropping low enough to stay out of earshot.

“Am I the only one seeing it?” Dennis asked, his gaze darting between you and Charles.

Arthur followed his line of sight, frowning slightly. “Seeing what?”

“Come on, Thur,” Dennis said, nudging him. “The tension. The way they bicker? That’s not just hate. That’s something else.”

Arthur hesitated, his brows furrowing. “I don’t know. With her? I can’t tell. She used to have a thing for him, sure. But now? One moment I think she’s over it, and the next…”

Dennis grinned knowingly. “She’s not over it. And Charles? He’s head over heels. Look at the way he watches her when she’s not looking. The guy’s smitten.”

Arthur laughed at him "I've had my suspicions about him for a while, but he's difficult to read"

“Just saying, the sexual tension is insane.” Dennis laughed.

Arthur groaned, leaning back in his chair. “You’re talking about my brother. Ew.”

"Hey, in all honesty. If he indeeds feels that way about her, I don't judge him.." Dennis laughed at the disgusted face that Arthur was pulling "Because, come on, you gotta admit it, she's hot"

Arthur shook his head, laughing despite himself. “Yeah, she’s hot. I'm aware of that, but I don’t see her that way. Never did, to be honest. We kissed a couple of times, but it was never like that" he said, a laugh present on his face as he thought back to the memories "I guess like once or twice during drinking games, and I remember one time when we were just young and hopeless, so we tried kissing like once, but it honestly was like… kissing my sister. Just weird.”

Dennis nodded, a sly grin spreading across his face. “I know that, Thur. But your brother? He doesn’t seem to think it’s weird.”

Dennis was watching you and Charles with barely concealed amusement, his eyes flicking between the two of you like he was watching a slow-motion car crash. He leaned a little closer to Arthur, smirking. "I mean, come on," he said under his breath. "Do they think they’re fooling anyone?"

Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. "They’ve been like this for ages. It’s exhausting just being around it."

Gigi, sitting nearby and clearly picking up on their hushed tones, laughed softly and joined in. “It’s mildly funny, though. They’re trying so hard to keep up this weird act of hating each other. Like, come on—it’s obvious they don’t actually hate each other.”

Dennis grinned, nodding toward Charles. “Right? The guy looks like he’s about to break his neck just to glance at her without being obvious.”

Gigi shrugged, leaning back in her chair. “What I don’t get is what caused all this. They used to be great friends. Back when she was still in love with him” she explained “they were actually kind of inseparable. So, what changed?”

Dennis tilted his head, considering her words. “Do you think she's still in love with him?”

Gigi paused, her brow furrowing slightly. “Honestly? I don’t think so. I mean, she still thinks he’s hot—because, let’s face it, he is hot—but she doesn’t act the way she used to. Back then, she was constantly hopeful. And let's face it, he was her first ever proper crush, so he might have a special place, but I don't think she's still in love with him. Now it's just different"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Different how?”

“She just seems... done. Like she gave up on him a while ago.” Gigi shrugged again, her tone thoughtful. “And honestly, I don’t blame her. If Charles does feel something now, he's probably too late. She’s waited long enough. Sure, when she was younger, the age gap made sense. She was too young. But by the time she was, like, 20, she was old enough. She still had feelings for him then, and he never even did anything about it.”

Dennis tapped his chin dramatically. “That’s rough. And if he does admit something now, what do you think? Should she go for it?”

Gigi frowned, her gaze shifting toward you briefly. “I don’t know. It would feel... weird. Like, if he didn’t see her that way before, why now? It might just feel like he’s choosing her because it’s convenient.”

Arthur sighed, rubbing his temples. “Can we not psychoanalyze my brother’s love life, please?”

Gigi shifted her gaze to Dennis, a sly grin spreading across her face. “What about you? You and her seem close. Maybe something’s blossoming there?”

Dennis raised an eyebrow, a surprised chuckle escaping him. “Me and her? Nah, come on.”

Gigi tilted her head, still smirking. “What? I’m just saying, you two seem to have this... vibe.”

Dennis laughed, shaking his head. “Look, she’s hot. I’d hook up with her in a heartbeat if she wanted to, but something serious? Nah. We both know it’s not like that.”

Gigi rolled her eyes, clearly amused. “You’re an idiot.” she laughed.

Arthur leaned back, groaning dramatically. “Why are we even having this conversation? Can we not dissect every potential romantic possibility?”

Gigi laughed. “Oh, come on, Arthur. Admit it. It’s entertaining.”

Arthur shook his head, muttering under his breath. “You all need help.”

Both Gigi and Dennis laughed out loud at Arthur's comment, finding it funny how Arthur reacted.

Before anyone could say more, their conversation was cut short when Charles, who had clearly overheard snippets of their hushed tones, called out from across the garden. “What’s so funny over there?”

Arthur, Dennis, and Gigi exchanged a quick look before Arthur spoke, his tone far too casual. “Oh, nothing much. Just debating which one of us would survive the longest if we had to endure one of your lectures on strategy.”

Charles narrowed his eyes, clearly unconvinced. “Sure,” he muttered, turning back to his conversation with Joris. But the faint twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement, even as he pretended not to care.

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As the night wore on, the group began to disperse, some heading to bed while others lingered to enjoy the cool night air. You made your way up to your room, feeling restless. Grabbing the cigarette Inès had reluctantly given you earlier, you stepped onto the balcony, the cool breeze brushing against your skin.

The first drag burned your throat, a harsh reminder of why you’d quit. But tonight, the weight in your chest felt heavier than usual, and this seemed like the only way to breathe again.

The quiet was short-lived. The soft creak of the balcony door opening made you stiffen, and when you turned, you found Charles stepping out.

“If you’re planning to mock me for smoking, shut up,” you said, not even trying to hide your annoyance.

Charles raised his hands defensively. “I wasn’t planning on anything.”

He leaned against the railing, his gaze fixed on the view rather than you. For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, the tension ebbing into something softer.

“Are you going to keep standing there, or are you taking a seat?” you asked, nudging a chair toward him with your foot.

He sat without a word, the quiet between you stretching but not uncomfortable.

“I thought you quit,” he said finally, his voice soft.

You took another drag, exhaling slowly. “I did.”

Charles chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “Figures.”

“But then my best friend decided it was a good idea to take me on a holiday and make me share a bathroom and connecting rooms with his brother" You smirked faintly "Don’t know if you’ve met him, but he’s got a massive ego and loves getting on his brother’s best friend’s nerves. Pathetic, really.”

Charles laughed, the sound low and warm. “Can’t say I’ve met him. But he probably has a good reason.”

The two of you shared a quiet laugh, a rare moment of peace between the insults. You held out your cigarette to him, a small gesture of truce.

Charles hesitated before taking it, his fingers brushing against yours briefly. The touch was fleeting but electric, sending a jolt through him that he didn’t entirely wanted to administer. He took a drag, exhaling slowly, his eyes on the stars.

“For someone who claims to hate me this much, this seems pretty generous,” he said, handing it back.

“Maybe I’m trying to ruin your lungs so you screw up your next race,” you replied dryly, leaning back in your chair.

Charles hummed in mock agreement. “Hmm. If you say so.”

The silence lingered between you and Charles, stretching into something neither of you was used to—quiet, companionable, and strangely comfortable. You stared out at the darkened garden, the faint glow of the string lights from below casting soft shadows across the balcony. The cigarette burned low between your fingers, the occasional ember flaring as you took a slow drag.

Charles shifted slightly in his seat, his arms resting casually on the chair's arms, his eyes flicking to you when he thought you weren’t looking. The lines of his face were softened by the night, his usual sharpness replaced by a contemplative calm.

“You’ve gotten quieter,” you muttered, breaking the silence. “What? Run out of things to argue about already?”

He smirked, glancing at you. “Just pacing myself. Don’t want to exhaust all my good comebacks in one night.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the small smile that tugged at your lips. “Oh, please. I’ve heard them all before. You’re not that original.”

“Maybe I’m just giving you a chance to catch up,” he quipped, a faint grin playing at the corner of his mouth.

You laughed softly, shaking your head, and for a moment, it almost felt easy—like the walls you’d both carefully built were thinning, letting something more natural seep through.

The two of you lapsed back into silence, the occasional sound of the night filling the void. Charles tapped his fingers lightly against the chair, his rhythm steady, almost soothing. He tilted his head back slightly, staring up at the stars.

“What do you think they’re talking about down there?” he asked suddenly, nodding toward the garden where the others were still chatting.

You shrugged, leaning back in your chair. “Knowing Arthur and Dennis? Something dumb. Probably debating the best flavor of chips or some other nonsense.”

Charles chuckled softly. “Sounds about right.”

Minutes passed, the quiet stretching comfortably between you. Occasionally, your gazes met, and though neither of you spoke, there was an unspoken exchange—something in the way his eyes softened just slightly when he looked at you.

Finally, you stood, brushing ash from your hands. “I’m going to freshen up in the bathroom and go to bed.”

Charles didn’t respond immediately, his eyes following your movements. Just as you reached the doorway, he called out softly, his voice cutting through the quiet.

“You know,” he began, his tone uncharacteristically serious, “aside from all the arguments… you know I don’t actually hate you, right?”

You froze in the doorway, his words hanging in the air between you. Slowly, you turned, your hand resting on the doorframe. “You have a shit way of showing that,” you said, your voice quieter than usual.

Charles gave you a small, almost rueful smile. “I’ll work on it.”

You stared at him for a moment longer before nodding. “Goodnight, Charles.”

“Goodnight,” he replied, watching as you disappeared inside.

In the bathroom, the scent of him lingered—subtle but unmistakable. It was maddening how easily it unsettled you, making your chest tighten with an unspoken weight. You closed the door behind you, locking both his and your side with care, as if the physical barrier could somehow keep your thoughts at bay.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, the faint steam from the earlier shower still clinging to the edges of the glass. “Get over it,” you whispered to yourself, your voice barely audible. “You hate him. Remember?”

But the words felt hollow, even to your own ears.

The shower’s warm spray hit your skin, washing away the tension that had settled in your shoulders, but it couldn’t quite cleanse your mind. Images of his face lingered—his small, almost shy smile when he’d said he didn’t hate you, the way his fingers had brushed against yours earlier when you passed him the cigarette.

You lingered longer than usual, hoping the heat of the water would somehow dissolve the confusion swirling inside you. When you finally stepped out and dried off, you felt no closer to clarity, only exhaustion.

Back in your room, the muffled sounds of movement from the adjoining space made you pause. You could hear him faintly—the soft creak of his bed, the shuffle of fabric as he adjusted his position. It was strangely intimate, knowing he was so close, separated only by a thin wall.

Sliding into bed, you stared at the ceiling, the room’s quiet amplifying the sounds next door. Your mind drifted despite your best efforts, and with a sigh, you reached for your phone.

You: Bathroom’s free

You'd typed it quickly, hesitating for a moment before pressing send. Before you could even process your message, the reply already came.

Charles: Thanks.

You put your phone on your nightstand, plugging it in the charger, before crawling deeper beneath the covers. You tried to fall asleep, but it felt impossible. Every movement he made, every creak of his bed, echoed faintly. It made you realize once more, in what close proximity you both were, keeping you awake longer than you’d like. Eventually though, sleep claimed you, surprisingly peaceful despite everything.

next part

#f1 fanfic #formula 1 #f1 imagine #smut #f1 x reader #formula 1 smut #friends to lovers #charles leclerc #arthur leclerc #cl16 #fluff #enemies to lovers #semi slowburn #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader

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fontainexpert · 1 month ago

Text

𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑 — 𝙨𝙚-𝙢𝙞/𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙧 380

ᓚᘏᗢ se-mi / player 380 x 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

ᓚᘏᗢ where it’s almost dinner time after the first game, but you are craving something else instead.

tags; lesbian sex, smut, vaginal fingering, oral sex. Se-mi! receiving it.

*MUNCH is a slang commonly used in someone that really enjoys doing oral sex. it's often used by people who get pussy-drunk in oral sex, and don't care about their own pleasure, only their partner.

Throwing her head back, Se-mi loudly moaned.

As soon as she entered the bathroom, her underwear already wet with anticipation, she watched as you removed your own jacket, and then hers. The girl gave a few steps in your direction, and watched as you pulled her t-shirt, bringing her close, lips meeting with desperate kisses and wandering hands on her waist.

"Jump on the sink for me baby." You muttered, licking and sucking Se-mi's neck, giving a few hickeys she knew you would proudly look at.

As soon as Se-mi jumped and opened her legs so you could be in the middle, it was game over. The sink was small, sure. Not to mention the tap sink that was bothering her spine. However, all discomfort went out the drain when she saw you kneeling in front of her and removing her pants and underwear in one go.

Buried nose-deep in her wet pussy, your hands gripped her thighs like a vice, digging in the meat with both your hands and tongue deep inside. The best part is that you knew that you would be the only one to see the purple bruises that would most likely form in the area. Se-mi’s skin always so sensitive, bruising easily with the smallest of efforts.

You ran your tongue over her clit, just to suck gently a second later, making Se-mi shake in an overstimulation that barely started. She tasted like heaven, god, and you thought how you would absolutely never tire of eating such a pretty pussy that always gushed so good in response to your touches and caresses.

You continued sucking her clit, giving a few stops to flatten up your tongue and roll it, watching as Se-mi twitched and moaned. You brought your tongue to the dripping hole of the pussy you were currently devouring, groaning in pleasure and pain as the woman screamed once more, grabbing your hair and shoving your face deep in her pussy, riding it slowly, a breathless smile on her face.

"I love- I love your mouth." She moaned with a smile on her face, biting her lip piercing and making movements back and forth, riding your tongue, chuckling in disbelief at you, whose face was buried in the middle of her thighs, rolled your eyes back at your head, as if you was the one receiving it. "You love when I ride your face, don't you?" She finished talking, throwing her head back with a delirious sigh. "My little *munch."

Se-mi's eyes went to the back of her head in pleasure, continuing to moan freely as you continued to munch her pussy away. Arching her back, she gasped as she felt two fingers enter her, plunging back and forth.

Her hips continued to move up and down, rubbing her pretty pussy all over your nose and mouth, smearing her juices. She continued to shamelessly ride your face, opening her legs wider, arching her back as the seconds passed and more pleasure she felt.

Oh how you wished you both were back in Se-mi's apartment, where the woman would be laying down completely naked, receiving the best oral sex she ever received from someone, playing with her nipples and teasing the girl in between her thighs with images of her squeezing her boobs and twisting her nipples. Usually, this would trigger you to continue eating her as long as she wished, no matter how many orgasms the girl would go through.

But you would be completely lying if you said that you weren’t enjoying it as it was now.

Each time Se-mi would close her thighs, you would just chuckle against her clit and force them open, enjoying how the smallest groan or pressure on the sensitive part would make her entire body quiver. You made circular movements with the tip of your tongue, appreciating the pink bundle of nerves, now angry red, asking for release and more pleasure.

A devoted munch, you were.

It truly didn’t matter how many times you ate Se-mi out, you never would tire. Ever. Her pussy tasted like heaven, the perfect taste and glistening so much it would shine against a light. If possible to one day choose how to die, you would have absolutely voted to die in between her thighs, slurping and swallowing all the release Se-mi would give to you.

You continued to lap at her clit, curling your fingers up precisely against the spot that always melted the other girl. Scissoring your fingers inside the tight hole they were in, you sensed the walls beginning to spasm around them, knowing that the girl would cum soon, and unfortunately, the fun would be cut short.

Considering that they were doing this inside the bathroom of the place they were first kidnapped, you begrudgingly knew that you wouldn’t have much time to tease Se-mi.

Broken moans left Se-mi's mouth, not a single coherent phrase or word leaving her lips. You hungrily looked up, watching as the woman who always acted so nonchalant about everything around her, was now pathetically moaning and begging for release, not even managing to form a sentence.

She whined a few weaks coming, coming, coming one after the other, broken pleas at the tip of her tongue. She was mewling, eyes rolled at the back of her head, her juices now dripping down your chin and completely soaking your skin. Lucky for you, already knowing that you liked it messy, liked to slurp it all up, make Se-mi's pussy as sloppy as possible and then bury your face deep inside; as a precaution, you removed your shirt, staying only in a bra. And now, as you lapped on the sweet pussy in your mouth, a few drops of the juice would drip from your chin, to your breasts.

Removing your face, you breathed quickly. "I need you to cum for me." Humming as you went back to suck at the clit. Grasping Se-mi's thighs and bringing them even closer, closing them around your head and burying your face once more to the wet paradise.

Se-mi moaned your name, riding your face with gusto, tongue often touching her own lip piercing, while her hands touched your hair and continued pressing your mouth into her pussy. You moved your face, going side to side and slurping her clit and fingers plunging harder inside her wet hole. No doubt, your entire face would be smeared in her juices at this point.

Unfortunately, you had to move back and grasp a few gulps of air, before diving back in.

"C'mon baby, make a mess of my face."

That was enough for Se-mi. She began chanting your name like a prayer, gasping in the immense pleasure she was feeling. The shock spamming through her body, thighs shaking terribly and certainly would have fallen if she was standing. She came with a loud groan, eyes closed but rolling at the back of her head.

You, however, continued sucking and slurping every juice that now fell inside your mouth. Drinking like a starved woman, and maybe you were, just not for food or actual water.

Se-mi whined in overstimulation, pushing your head back. You obeyed and unfortunately released her clit from your lips, giving one last lick in appreciation before removing your fingers from her vagina and licking them up, maintaining eye contact with the woman.

“Thank you for the dessert before dinner, baby.”

HELLO; thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed it!

- this smut part was taken from my fanfiction on wattpad, called "CARNAL", by the username of fontainexpert! feel free to see the entire fanfic if you'd like! <3

#lesbian #lesbian sex #wlw #gxg #semi #se-mi squid game #se-mi #se-mi x reader #squid game x reader #squid game smut #se-mi smut #player 380 x reader #player 380 smut

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extinctlesspains · 2 months ago

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Hi! i wanted to ask ir you could write some headcanons of Se-mi (player 380) cuddling with shy f!reader. I love your writes :3

A/n: Hiii!! I'm so glad you like my writings! And I hope you like this one too ♡

Տᗴ-ᗰI ᑕᑌᗪᗪᒪIᑎᘜ ՏᕼY ᖇᗴᗩᗪᗴᖇ ᕼᗴᗩᗪᑕᗩᑎOᑎՏ

-ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs sғᴡ ᴀɴᴅ ɴsғᴡ-

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: ʏᴇs ᴏʀ ɴᴏ

☆ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: sᴇ-ᴍɪ (ᴘʟᴀʏᴇʀ 380) x sʜʏ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

☆ ɪᴍᴘʟɪᴇᴅ ғᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

☆ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs sᴍᴜᴛ ᴀɴᴅ sᴜɢɢᴇsᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴀᴛᴇʀɪᴀʟs

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

sғᴡ

- ɪɴɪᴛɪᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: sᴇ-ᴍɪ ɪs ᴀ ᴄᴏɴғɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀssᴇʀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴ, sᴏ sʜᴇ’s ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ɪɴɪᴛɪᴀᴛᴇ ᴄᴜᴅᴅʟᴇs ᴍᴏsᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ. sʜᴇ ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇs ʜᴏᴡ sʜʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴇᴀsɪɴɢʟʏ ʙᴏʟᴅ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴏᴀᴄʜ ʜᴇʟᴘs ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴄᴇ.

- ʜᴇʀ ғᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ sᴘᴏᴛ: sᴇ-ᴍɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇs ᴘᴜʟʟɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʜᴇʀ ʟᴀᴘ, ᴡʀᴀᴘᴘɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ᴀʀᴍs ᴛɪɢʜᴛʟʏ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇsᴛɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ᴄʜɪɴ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅᴇʀ. ɪᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇs ʜᴇʀ ᴀ sᴇɴsᴇ ᴏғ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ.

- ᴘʟᴀʏғᴜʟ ᴛᴇᴀsɪɴɢ: sʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ʀᴇsɪsᴛ ᴛᴇᴀsɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ ғʟᴜsᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ. “ᴡʜʏ ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʙʟᴜsʜɪɴɢ, ʙᴀʙᴇ? ɪ’ᴍ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴋᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀʀᴍ.” ʜᴇʀ sᴍɪʀᴋ ᴍᴀᴋᴇs ɪᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴡᴏʀsᴇ (ᴏʀ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ).

- ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇ sɪᴅᴇ: ᴡʜᴇɴ sʜᴇ ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇs ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀᴡʜᴇʟᴍᴇᴅ ᴏʀ ɴᴇʀᴠᴏᴜs, sʜᴇ sᴏғᴛᴇɴs ɪᴍᴍᴇᴅɪᴀᴛᴇʟʏ. sᴇ-ᴍɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ʜᴏʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴄʜᴇsᴛ, sᴛʀᴏᴋɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀɪʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀɪɴɢ sᴏғᴛ ʀᴇᴀssᴜʀᴀɴᴄᴇs ʟɪᴋᴇ, “ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ sᴀғᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ, ᴏᴋᴀʏ?”

- ᴘʜʏsɪᴄᴀʟ ᴀғғᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ: sʜᴇ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴇs ᴛᴀɴɢʟɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟᴇɢs ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ʟʏɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴀ ᴄᴏᴜᴄʜ ᴏʀ ʙᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʟᴏsᴇʀ, ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ. sᴇ-ᴍɪ sᴀʏs ɪᴛ’s ᴛᴏ "ᴍᴀᴋᴇ sᴜʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʀᴜɴ ᴀᴡᴀʏ," ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ’s ᴊᴜsᴛ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ sʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇs ғᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴀʀ.

- ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ: ɪғ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴇs ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴜɴᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴏʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ sʜʏ ɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ, sᴇ-ᴍɪ ᴅᴏᴜʙʟᴇs ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴏɴ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴀғғᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴᴀᴛᴇ ɪɴ ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ. sʜᴇ’ʟʟ ᴡʀᴀᴘ ᴀɴ ᴀʀᴍ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴋɪss ʏᴏᴜʀ ғᴏʀᴇʜᴇᴀᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ɢʟᴀʀᴇ ᴀᴛ ᴡʜᴏᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴅᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴜᴘsᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ.

- ʟᴏᴠɪɴɢ ᴘᴀᴛɪᴇɴᴄᴇ: sʜᴇ’s ɪɴᴄʀᴇᴅɪʙʟʏ ᴘᴀᴛɪᴇɴᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ sʜʏɴᴇss. sᴇ-ᴍɪ ᴍᴀᴋᴇs sᴜʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ғᴇᴇʟ ᴘʀᴇssᴜʀᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ɪɴɪᴛɪᴀᴛᴇ ᴀғғᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ sʜᴇ ǫᴜɪᴇᴛʟʏ ᴍᴇʟᴛs ɪɴsɪᴅᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ.

- ᴘɪʟʟᴏᴡ ᴛᴀʟᴋ: ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ʟᴀᴛᴇ-ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴄᴜᴅᴅʟᴇs, sᴇ-ᴍɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇs ᴀsᴋɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ, sɪʟʟʏ ǫᴜᴇsᴛɪᴏɴs ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴀᴜɢʜ. sʜᴇ’s ᴏʙsᴇssᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢɪɢɢʟᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴡᴀɴᴛs ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ɪᴛ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ғᴀʟʟ ᴀsʟᴇᴇᴘ ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴀʀᴍs.

- ᴡᴀʀᴍᴛʜ: sᴇ-ᴍɪ ʀᴜɴs ᴡᴀʀᴍ, sᴏ ᴄᴜᴅᴅʟɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇʀ ғᴇᴇʟs ʟɪᴋᴇ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴡʀᴀᴘᴘᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴀ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ʜᴇᴀᴛᴇʀ. sʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇs ᴛᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ʙʟᴀɴᴋᴇᴛs ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ɪᴛ ᴀ “sɴᴜɢɢʟᴇ ғᴏʀᴛʀᴇss.”

- sᴏғᴛ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛs: ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ sʜᴇ’s ᴜsᴜᴀʟʟʏ ᴄᴏɴғɪᴅᴇɴᴛ, ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇs ᴡʜᴇɴ sᴇ-ᴍɪ ɢᴇᴛs ǫᴜɪᴇᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴊᴜsᴛ ʜᴏʟᴅs ʏᴏᴜ ᴄʟᴏsᴇ, ᴀs ɪғ ɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀsᴇʟғ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴄᴇ. ɪᴛ’s ᴏɴᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴀʀᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛs ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ sʜᴇ’s ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇʟʏ ᴠᴜʟɴᴇʀᴀʙʟᴇ.

ɴsғᴡ

- ʟɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜᴇs: sᴇ-ᴍɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇs ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴛ ʜᴇʀ ғɪɴɢᴇʀs ᴛʀᴀᴄᴇ ᴘᴀᴛᴛᴇʀɴs ᴀʟᴏɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴏʀ ᴀʀᴍs ᴀs ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴜᴅᴅʟᴇ. ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ sᴛᴀʀᴛs ɪɴɴᴏᴄᴇɴᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴀs sʜᴇ ғᴇᴇʟs ʏᴏᴜ sǫᴜɪʀᴍ, ʜᴇʀ ғɪɴɢᴇʀs ᴡᴀɴᴅᴇʀ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʟᴏᴡᴇʀ, ᴛᴇᴀsɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴅɢᴇ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴀɪsᴛʙᴀɴᴅ ᴏʀ ʙʀᴜsʜɪɴɢ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴɪᴘᴘʟᴇs ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴏᴅ.

- ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴛᴇᴀsɪɴɢ: sᴇ-ᴍɪ ʜᴀs ᴀ ʜᴀʙɪᴛ ᴏғ ʟᴇᴀɴɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴄʟᴏsᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇᴀʀ. sᴏᴍᴇᴛɪᴍᴇs ɪᴛ's ᴘʟᴀʏғᴜʟ, ʟɪᴋᴇ, "ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴏ�� sᴏ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ɴᴏᴡ, " ᴀɴᴅ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛɪᴍᴇs ɪᴛ's ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴅɪʀᴛɪᴇʀ: "ɪ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ɢᴇᴛ ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪs... ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙʀᴀɪɴs ғᴜᴄᴋᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ."

- ᴘᴜʟʟɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄʟᴏsᴇʀ: sʜᴇ's ɴᴏᴛ sʜʏ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴜᴄʜ sʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇs ғᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ʜᴇʀ. ɪғ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ's ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ sʟɪɢʜᴛᴇsᴛ ɢᴀᴘ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ, sʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴛᴜɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄʟᴏsᴇʀ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴏᴅɪᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘʀᴇssᴇᴅ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ. ʜᴇʀ ʜᴀɴᴅs ᴡɪʟʟ sʟɪᴅᴇ ᴜᴘ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛʜɪɢʜs ᴏʀ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴀɪsᴛ, ᴋᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴄᴋᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ, sᴏ sʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ᴋɪss ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴇᴄᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴜᴘ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙʀᴇᴀsᴛs.

- ᴇʏᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀᴄᴛ: sᴇ-ᴍɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇs ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs. ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀᴠᴏɪᴅ ᴇʏᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀᴄᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ sʜʏɴᴇss, sʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴛɪʟᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄʜɪɴ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ʜᴇʀ ɢᴀᴢᴇ, ʜᴇʀ sᴍɪʀᴋ ᴜɴᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴀʙʟᴇ ᴀs sʜᴇ ᴍᴜʀᴍᴜʀs, "ᴡʜᴀᴛ's ᴡʀᴏɴɢ, ʙᴀʙʏ? ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʙᴇ sʜʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ." sʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇs ᴛᴇᴀsɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ sᴛᴀʀɪɴɢ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇʏᴇs ᴀs sʜᴇ ʀᴜʙs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄʟɪᴛ.

- ᴘʟᴀʏғᴜʟ ᴅᴏᴍɪɴᴀɴᴄᴇ: sᴇ-ᴍɪ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴇs ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴅʏɴᴀᴍɪᴄ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ғʟᴜsᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ. sʜᴇ'ʟʟ ʜᴏʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴄʜᴇsᴛ, ᴛɪʟᴛɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴋɪss ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴇ ᴏʀ ᴊᴀᴡʟɪɴᴇ, ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʜɪᴛᴄʜ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜ. "ɪ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪs," sʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴛᴇᴀsᴇ, ʜᴇʀ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ʟᴏᴡ ᴀɴᴅ sᴍᴏᴏᴛʜ ᴀs ʜᴇʀ ʜᴀɴᴅs ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʜᴇʀ ᴡᴀʏ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ sᴏᴀᴋᴇᴅ ᴘᴀɴᴛɪᴇs.

- ᴛʀᴀᴄɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏʟʟᴀʀʙᴏɴᴇ: ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴄᴜᴅᴅʟɪɴɢ, sᴇ-ᴍɪ's ғɪɴɢᴇʀs ᴛᴇɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴅʀɪғᴛ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏʟʟᴀʀʙᴏɴᴇ. sʜᴇ ᴛʀᴀᴄᴇs ɪᴛ sʟᴏᴡʟʏ, ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ ᴅᴇʟɪʙᴇʀᴀᴛᴇ, ᴀs ɪғ ᴛᴇsᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ. sᴏᴍᴇᴛɪᴍᴇs, sʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴘʀᴇss ʜᴇʀ ʟɪᴘs ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ, ʟᴇᴀᴠɪɴɢ ʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴋɪssᴇs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʟɪɴɢᴇʀ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ. sʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇs ᴍᴀʀᴋɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴇʀʀɪᴛᴏʀʏ sᴏ ᴊᴜsᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ʜᴇʀ ;)

- "ᴀᴄᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛᴀʟ" ɢʀᴀᴢᴇs: ʜᴇʀ ʜᴀɴᴅs sᴇᴇᴍ ᴛᴏ "ᴀᴄᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛᴀʟʟʏ" ᴡᴀɴᴅᴇʀ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴄᴜᴅᴅʟɪɴɢ, ʙʀᴜsʜɪɴɢ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇs sʜᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡs ᴡɪʟʟ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʙʟᴜsʜ. sᴜᴄʜ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄʟᴏᴛʜᴇᴅ ᴄᴜɴᴛ, ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀʀᴅ ɴɪᴘᴘʟᴇs, ᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀss. ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴀsᴘ ᴏʀ ᴡɪɢɢʟᴇ, sʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴄʜᴜᴄᴋʟᴇ, ғᴇɪɢɴɪɴɢ ɪɴɴᴏᴄᴇɴᴄᴇ. "ᴏᴏᴘs- ᴡᴀs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ?"

- ᴘɪɴɴᴇᴅ ʙʏ ʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇɪɢʜᴛ: sᴇ-ᴍɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇs ᴛʜᴇ ғᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ᴏғ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ, sᴏ sʜᴇ ᴏғᴛᴇɴ sʜɪғᴛs ʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇɪɢʜᴛ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛᴏ ᴘɪɴ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇɴᴇᴀᴛʜ ʜᴇʀ. sʜᴇ'ʟʟ ʀᴇsᴛ ʜᴇʀ ғᴏʀᴇʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀs, ʜᴇʀ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴀ ᴛᴇᴀsɪɴɢ ᴍᴜʀᴍᴜʀ: "ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ sᴏ ᴄᴜᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ sᴛᴜᴄᴋ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪs."

- ᴋɪssᴇs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʀᴀɪʟ: ᴡʜᴀᴛ sᴛᴀʀᴛs ᴀs ɪɴɴᴏᴄᴇɴᴛ ᴋɪssᴇs ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ғᴏʀᴇʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴇᴇᴋ ᴏғᴛᴇɴ ᴛʀᴀɪʟs ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴊᴀᴡʟɪɴᴇ, ɴᴇᴄᴋ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴇsᴛ. sᴇ-ᴍɪ ᴛᴀᴋᴇs ʜᴇʀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, sᴀᴠᴏʀɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs, ʜᴇʀ ʟɪᴘs ᴡᴀʀᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇʟɪʙᴇʀᴀᴛᴇ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇʏ ʟɪɴɢᴇʀ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴋɪɴ. "ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀʀᴋᴇᴅ ʙᴀʙʏ..."

- ᴛʜᴇ ǫᴜɪᴇᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇɴsɪᴛʏ: ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ ɢᴇᴛs ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʜᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ, sᴇ-ᴍɪ's ᴘʟᴀʏғᴜʟ ᴛᴇᴀsɪɴɢ sʜɪғᴛs ɪɴᴛᴏ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ǫᴜɪᴇᴛᴇʀ ʙᴜᴛ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇɴsᴇ. ʜᴇʀ ʜᴀɴᴅs ɢʀɪᴘ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜɪᴘs ғɪʀᴍʟʏ, ʜᴇʀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜɪɴɢ sʟᴏᴡs, ᴀɴᴅ sʜᴇ ᴘʀᴇssᴇs ʜᴇʀ ғᴏʀᴇʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀs, ʜᴇʀ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴅʀᴏᴘᴘɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ʜᴜsᴋʏ ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀ: "ʏᴏᴜ ᴅʀɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴄʀᴀᴢʏ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ?" "ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ʀɪᴅɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ғᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪɢʜ, ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ sᴛᴏᴘ."

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