#well then hes not so fine with it anymore

[scentedluminarysoul]

SOMETIMES IT'S ON PURPOSE OKAY I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S CALLED BUT SOMETIMES YOU REPEAT THE SAME WORD OR PHRASE ON PURPOSE IT'S A STYLISTIC CHOICE

Ahem. Also. You don't need to thesaurus every word. It's fine if you call a table a table multiple times

Honestly, writing has become so complicated and everyone's a critic and don't you DARE use the same word twice or start a sentence with "he" twice in a row!

Can we go back to actually caring about SUBSTANCE? About what it's trying to tell you?

I'm currently reading Agatha Christie's "And Then There Were None" from 1939. It's written so SIMPLY and yet it's so good and just effective in what it does.

Do you know how often it says "(character name) said:" and then just the dialogue? That's the vast majority of how her dialogues work. Simple, easy to understand, no confusion as to who's talking.

It's not fancy, and yet she's one of the best writers to have ever existed

I mean, look at this:

It's just a simple dialogue that keeps going like that.

One of the most repeated writing advices you read is "make your dialogue interesting", like give characters something to in between tags, etc.

But lads—this dialogue is interesting in and of itself. It's intriguing. Why would they also need to juggle chainsaws or low the lawn or whatever?

And the dialogue tag Christie uses most often is "said". Simply "said". Because it doesn't need more.

Here and there are a few hints as to how the characters are feeling ("angrily", "dryly", "after a minute or two"), but it's your job as a reader to UNDERSTAND and INTERPRET them, to THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU'RE READING.

And I think that's the big problem nowadays: people don't want to think about it anymore. TikTok girlies brag about reading 3 books a day, but they don't UNDERSTAND them. That much is clear when you listen to them talk about books

And this is also what people mean that you should read when you want to become a writer. Because you can read all the writing tips ever online, but that will only make you go insane and insecure.

READ and you will see how they're applied. Or not. And even then the book is still good

And no book is perfect or even good from start to finish. There will be dull moments, or misses in even the best books

And you need to see those flaws in order to become a writer

I forgot about that myself.

The key to writing well isn't to use the best and most interesting words perfectly

It's to use the words you have effectively.

Sorry OP, didn't need to rant

But sometimes all these clever "writing tips to become a better writer" are really missing what's truly makes a good writer:

The heart

Of you only count how many times someone used the same word in a paragraph, instead of trying to understand what that paragraph is telling you, you don't care about the art of writing

Actually you CAN use the same word twice in the same paragraph. The same sentence even. If it's funny, if it's for emphasis, if it's harping on a theme, if you're sexy and you do whatever you want forever. Write on

[pacofprunes]

DARK / TOXIC SQUID GAME REACTIONS TO YOU TRYING TO LEAVE THEM

CONTAINS — namgyu x reader, thanos x reader, myungi x reader, inho x reader, sangwoo x reader, saebyeok x reader

WARNINGS — toxic relationship, domestic violence, baby trapping, manipulation, guilt trip, prepare yourself for namgyus that’s the worst probably, mentions of suicide (thanos)

masterlist

THANOS / PLAYER 230 / CHOI-SUBONG — manipulates you / would let you leave and crawl back to him

doesn’t take it well at all. he’s going to laugh and think you’re joking, but after realizing that you’re not, he’s quickly going to scream at you. telling you that you’ll never find anybody better than him.

“do you really think anybody else will want you? if you leave me you’ll never find anyone else. you’ll never find anybody better!”

he’ll start breaking shit. punching walls, shit, he’ll even break your own phone if it’s in arms reach. if you still insist on leaving he’ll say he’s gonna overdose. he tells you that he’ll kill himself if you step out that door while pressing a blade up to his arm. if all else fails, he’ll totally act like he didn’t just beg you to stay and scream at you to go then and not to come running back.

“fine bitch, go ahead and leave! but don’t come running back to me for nothin’.”

in reality, he’s definitely stalking your socials, making fake accounts you haven’t blocked him on, stalking your friends accounts to see other photos of you, visiting the club every night (not that he didn’t already do that) to try to see if you’d show up. after about a month or so of doing this and going out and fucking other girls to get over you, he can’t do it anymore. he’ll send you some fake heartfelt text that he probably used ai to make and call you while making himself sound like he was crying, trying to make you feel bad and convince you that he’s changed and that he can be a better boyfriend. if you fall for it, you’re doomed. the relationships only going to be a million times worse than before. instead of knocking glass over and breaking shit, he might slap you. in public, he might grip your wrist ten times tighter, scared you’ll run away. when he finally lets go, his fingers will be embedded in your skin. he might even guilt trip you into getting a matching tattoo with him. “if you really loved me and forgave me then you would.”

if you really don’t go back to him though, no matter how many times you block him, you’ll get a new video sent to your phone from some unknown number of him fucking a new girl. he sent you the videos in hopes of making you jealous or something. he’s not going to stop for a long time. if you don’t go back to him, he’s going to harass you for the rest of your life. and if you do go back? you’re in for a world of hell.

NAMGYU / PLAYER 124 — would threaten you, would actually harm you

“you’re one funny bitch. you know how much shit i got on you?”

he finds it admirable, honestly. but still, fucking hilarious, that you, you, think you can leave him. what? when did you grow some balls? yeah, no. you just hurt his ego and that’s about the stupidest thing you could ever do to him. he’s not very empty with his threats. if he says he’s leaving? he’ll leave. (for like a week…) if he says he’s gonna hit you? you’re gonna be bruised for a while. if he says he’s gonna kill you? well, you haven’t gotten to that point yet. but keep this up and you sure will.

he keeps every nude and threatens to release it. sure you’re his and all, but that doesn’t stop him. so what if some other guy sees your body? he could care less. now if another guy touches you? let’s not think about what would happen. threatens to send the pictures to your family and threatens to send every sex tape of you two that he filmed behind your back.

“what the fuck is wrong with you namgyu? when the fuck did you film that?”

don’t raise your voice at him. once he hits you and you fall to the ground, he’ll keep kicking at you with his foot over and over until he thinks you’ve had enough. don’t speak up to him, don’t speak against him, and don’t piss him off. just sit there and be pretty, okay? he’s going to be bolder now. next time you two have sex he’s just going to shove the camera in your face. he’s going to manipulate and force you to take nudes for him since you don’t want to anymore after he threatened to send them out. sometimes he’ll force you to strip and then he’ll just take the pictures himself. all in all, sometimes he might just say no and leave it at that. but if you keep pushing, he’s going to threaten you. and if you still keep pushing, he’s going to go through with those threats. you really are just some whore to him, don’t think he’s above killing you.

MYUNGI / PLAYER 333 / MG COIN ★— would let you leave and crawl back to him (except he’s the one who crawls back), babytrapping

“really? fine, if that’s what you want then leave.”

he acts like he doesn’t care because he thinks his annoyance will make you turn right back around to him. he acts like he doesn’t care because he’s trying to not get so bent out of shape about it and move on quickly. but when he hears your footsteps disappear and the door shut, he immediately balls up his fists. you seriously left? he didn’t expect that, but whatever. he doesn’t need you.

he tries to move on but after barely even a week, he can’t do it. he contacts you, but when you block him, he makes more and more numbers. he thought you’d be running back to him, not the opposite. he sends you pictures of you two together in hopes you’d change your mind, but when you just keep blocking him, he’s knocking on your door demanding you open it up. he tries being nice but when you don’t open it, he starts banging on the door. really? you’d been together for months and you’d already gotten over him? no. no no no. you don’t get to just move on! what the hells wrong with you? when you still don’t open the door, he leaves and goes back to his place and sits on his bed while he ponders his next move. he decides for now just to stalk your page and harass you from more and more numbers. he’s not going to stop until you at least respond. oh, you’re gonna get a restraining order? you’re funny. you think that’ll stop him? don’t go back to him. if for some reason you give in, the next time that you two have sex, he’s going to make sure that you can’t leave. he’s sure that you’ll look so pretty with your stomach swelled up.

INHO / YOUNGIL / PLAYER 001 — straight up says no / baby traps / makes you feel like you’re going crazy

straight up, no. you want to leave? no. he doesn’t even care for an explanation on why, you’re not leaving. completely ignores your words and changes the whole topic. everytime you try to say you’re leaving he just completely overrides you with something different.

“inho, i’m serious. i’m leaving you! i’m packing my shit right now and i’m not coming back, i swear to you.”

“what did you want for dinner again? i have to go back out to get some groceries so there’s not too much…”

maybe it’s on purpose, maybe it’s not. but it makes you feel like you’re losing your mind. then he will deliberately go out of his way to make it seem like you’re crazy.

“i’m leaving because of what you’ve been doing behind my back, inho. it’s fucked up and you’re insane.”

“baby, you could follow me around tomorrow. i’ve got no idea what you mean.”

and he says it all with that stupid small polite smile that he gives everyone. you just want to strangle him. if somehow he can get you in bed with him after you just got so pissed, he’ll be more passionate than ever. he’ll treat you nice, focus on your pleasure before his and then quickly when you’re blissed out, he’ll pull out of you, slip the condom off and slide right back in. you don’t notice at all, but he makes sure to tell you like the cocky fuck he is. but he does it while he’s thrusting and when you can tell he’s about to cum. poor you, it’s too late to stop him :(.

“i’m about to fuck a baby in you — agh, i — i took the condom off. gonna have a beautiful—fuck—fucking baby with you.”

how could you leave now? do you have enough money to take care of a child without him? and would you really deprive your child of their father? you’ll get an abortion? he’ll find a way to keep you locked up in your house. you’re still going to leave? he’s going to guilt trip you to the max. and if that still fails? once again, he’s just going to find a way to keep you locked up in your house. he’ll figure it out as you go on, but for now, have your happy little family with him.

KANG SAE-BYEOK — straight up says no

she’s not going to entertain you at all. she might not even say no, opting to just stay silent instead. if you get in her face about it because she’s ignoring you, she’s just going to push you away. if you keep nagging her about it, she’s going to slap you. if you decide not to drop it, she’ll drag you by your hair and lock you in a room. are you stupid? don’t start this shit first thing in the morning.

“saebyeok, this isn’t working. we should go our separate ways.”

“no. did you hit your head or something?”

you should just drop it and move on with your day. nothing you say is going to convince her and if you piss her off too much, like said before, she’s just going to lock you away until you stop sounding ‘crazy’. she’s very cold, but she’s generally pretty nice to you still though. she’s a good girlfriend to you, just a little possessive, but it’s never gotten out of control. you just didn’t think the relationship was working and that it just wasn’t the right time. all in all, if you don’t push to much, you won’t see the shitty side of her that she never shows you. however, if you keep pushing the idea, she’s going to give you a real reason to break up with her.

SANGWOO — would let you leave and crawl back to him

“you want to break up? fine.”

it leaves you shocked at the sound of him not caring. it was as simple as that. you want to break up? bye then bitch! it hurt. it almost made you want to change your mind and say never mind and just stay with him, and that’s exactly what he wanted. that’s exactly why he said it like that. but that didn’t work and you just walked out the door. that’s fine though, you’d come back to him, he knows it.

he makes sure to post old photos of you two on his Instagram. not ones with your face in it, duh, but he posts the photos that you took of him where you’re behind the camera or ones where your arm or your hand is slightly showing. he knows you still stalk his socials. he’s posting these knowing that it’s going to hurt your little heart and make you crawl right back. he leaves every photo of you two up on every platform, not deleting a single thing. for a little while, he even keeps his pfp the same. you two holding hands. whenever he posts something, he always makes sure to put something in the caption that he knows you love. you liked tulips? he’ll put a tulip emoji in the caption. you loved cats? he’ll put a cat emoji in his bio. all these subtle things where you won’t know he’s doing it on purpose, but it’ll be so much of a coincidence that you’ll think this is a sign to run back to him.

he’ll tell his friends to ask about him to you whenever they talk with you.

“how are you and sangwoo doing?”

“oh he talks about you all the time.”

he tells them to act like they don’t know that the two of you have broken up. he makes sure to get in your head and eventually? you’ll come running back. if for some reason you don’t, he might have to pull some strings. spread some rumors about you so that your friends want nothing to do with you and so all that you have to run to for comfort is him.

[zzbubblegumbitchzz]

hey so, i might lose some of you with this but i can’t hold it in anymore im sorry.

cw: i wrote this on my phone so don’t mind the lowercase, piss (really its bladder control but like ya know), mentions of cock warming, softdom!quinn, unprotected p in v, pet names, filthy words from quinn’s mouth the dream

the sun's barely up, still kinda dark with a slight orange hue outside his window. eyes still filled with sleep, but he can't stop watching you. the way your hair is spread across the pillow, and your mouths open just a little, soft snores falling from you and he's truly never felt more at peace.

smiling to himself, he moves his hand closer to your face, brushing the little pieces of hair that fall against your cheeks. he feels you lean into his touch subconsciously. "come on sweet girl, wake up for me." voice just above a whisper.

he chuckles when you groan, "is too early quinny,"

"you can go back to sleep in a second, just need you close. that okay?" his tone slightly sarcastic.

you roll over, back pressed against his chest. head rubbing against the corner of his pillow, getting yourself more comfortable.

"that's what I thought," hands finding their way to lift your leg. rolling his hips against your back side. "just gonna slip right in, aren't I honey? just wanna feel you for a little bit, keep me warm."

"gotta pee." your voice laced with sleep.

"you're fine pretty, just relax. close your eyes and let me take care of you. I'll tell ya when you can go," he spoke as he slowly sunk into you.

his thrust are slow, and soft. his lips resting against your neck, "such a sweet girl, love you so much."

Quinn’s hand falling to the front of you, fingers pushing against your stomach.

"just taking me so well, trust me don't ya? trust me enough to know I'll take care of you, i'll let you go in a minute, just gotta cum first yeah? can you do that for me?"

he smiled against your neck, feeling you squeeze. "there she is, cmon honey. let me have it. there you go."

"such a sweet girl," he spoke softly while he slowly pulled out of you. "I love you so much."

[munsonsmixtapes]

The First One's Always Free

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

You go over to Eddie's to buy some weed after not seeing each other since high school. Old feelings arise and after smoking a joint together, you find yourselves tangled up in his sheets.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) reader and Eddie smoke a joint

You stand on the porch of Eddie’s trailer. You’re a nervous wreck, pacing back and forth on the little piece of wood you’re standing on, looking at your bike every time it comes into view. Why are you even there? It’s not like you’re going to buy. You have the money in your pocket but that doesn’t mean that you’re not scared. You’ve bought weed before, but never from someone you’ve been crushing on. 

You hesitantly bring your hand up to knock and feel your hands shaking as you do so. You’re not so sure why you’re so nervous. Eddie is sweet. And really, the only reason you're here is because you have a little (massive) crush on him. He’s so different from what everyone says he is. He’s always been so kind to you, even going as far as inviting you to sit with him and his friends at lunch when you were in school. 

But you haven’t seen him since high school so you’re not sure if he even sells anymore. You don’t even know why you’re still thinking about him since he probably forgot you even existed. That would make sense since you weren’t popular and only sat at his table a few times. 

The door opens and the man on the other side of the door gasps at the sight of you. You take the time to take in how each of you have changed. Eddie’s wearing a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He’s now sporting a full beard and a nose ring. He’s aged like a fine wine and you can’t stop looking at him. 

“Well, as I live and breathe,” he smiles, opening the door wider to invite you in. “I don’t think I’ve seen you since graduation.” He closes the door to the trailer, still in disbelief that you’re standing in his living room. His dream girl. 

Eddie has been crushing on you since the first day you flashed that bright smile at him. Right then and there, he knew that he was going to fall in love with you. And he did. When you set your copy of the Lord of the Rings on the lunch table he just knew that you were perfect for each other. He wanted to ask you out, but back then, he was Eddie “the freak” Munson and didn’t think he had a shot. He’s hoping that maybe now he does. 

“So, what are you doing here?” His tone is more curious than anything. He just wants to know why the prettiest girl in Hawkins is in his trailer. And you somehow got even prettier since the last time he saw you. 

“Well, I don’t know if you’re still dealing, but I was wanting to buy.”

“Of course I still deal,” he scoffs. “Please. Come on and I’ll show you.” He nods his head towards his room and you hesitantly follow, still feeling shy as you do so.

You watch him go through his belongings in a quick manner. He eventually finds what he needs, a metal lunchbox that he rifles through, on the hunt for the joints he rolled earlier. He was planning on smoking them himself, but you’re a special customer, so he feels like you deserve them. Once he finds them, he sits down on the bed, patting the spot next to him. 

You hesitantly sit on the bed, your thighs now touching because of your close proximity. You go to reach for the cash in your pocket, but he rests his hand on top of yours, shaking his head in response.

“First one’s always free,” he winks as he puts the bag into your hand, his fingertips brushing your palm. The two of you have never been this close before, your seats in the cafeteria preventing you from doing so. But now that you are, you can finally see just how pretty his brown eyes are. They’re even prettier than you remember. 

“Oh, you don’t-”

“Just let me do something nice for you, alright?” He nudges your shoulder. “Think of it as a reunion gift.” Even if you had bought from him before, he’d still give it to you for free because he would feel bad for charging you. 

“But I didn’t get anything.” You’re still as cute as he can remember and he just knows that you feel bad for not actually getting him anything. You’re so sweet that he swears that you’re going to give him a toothache.

“Then smoke this with me and we’ll call it even.” Oh, there’s no way you’re going to deny him. Especially not when he’s looking at you with those damn Bambi eyes. At this point, you’re sure that you’ll do anything he asks.

“Deal,” you nod and watch Eddie pull one of the joints from the bag. He hands it over to you and you part your lips, silently asking him to put it into your mouth for you. He catches on quickly and brings the joint to your lips, pushing the tip into your mouth and as your lips wrap around it, he wonders what they would look like wrapped around his-

“You got a light?” You ask, interrupting his train of thought. 

“Y-yeah,” he responds and rushes over to his desk and grabs one of the many he’s got in his drawer before hurrying back. He lights up the joint and when you inhale then pull it from your lips to blow out the smoke, he swears that he’s in love. You look so hot and he doesn’t know why he can’t just make a move. 

“Open,” you instruct and he does as you say as you put the joint between his lips, passing it off to him, your fingers brushing as he does so. You immediately wonder what his rough fingers would feel like inside you. You don’t know if it’s because of how attracted to him you still are or if it’s because you haven’t slept with anyone in a while and you’re just desperate. 

The tension changes between the two of you, getting even more intense and sexual as the joint gets smaller. You’re now lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling as you talk about everything and nothing. But really, all you want right now is for him to have you in any way he wants. You want him to take you right here and just go to town. 

But he won’t. You know he won’t because he’s nothing but a gentleman. At this point, though, you’ll take what you can get even if it is just a kiss. You just need something from him so badly but you’re too afraid to ask. You haven’t seen him in two years. How crazy is it going to seem if you ask him for a kiss?

You have no idea that Eddie wants the same. He wants you so badly that he’s trying so hard to hide his cock from you. He’s embarrassed by how hard he is because all he can think about is all the positions he wants to have you in. 

He doesn’t know what he's doing, but as soon as the joint is finished as he disposes of it, he takes the chances and hovers over you, his pupils blown wide, a mixture of both how high he is and also how much he wants you. 

“You’re so pretty,” he sighs looking down at you with that adorable smirk. His hand reaches up and his thumb slowly glides across your lips, his eyes watching them part as he does so. He dips it inside and your lips wrap around it, giving it a suck, a gasp falling from his own lips as he watches. 

“Fuck,” he whines and you’re so wet now that you can feel it soaking your panties. You need him and you need him now. But you’re going to let this play out as long as you can, your eyes on his as you continue to suck on his thumb. 

He’s losing his mind over it as he replaced his thumb with his pointer and middle fingers, watching you lick them, purposely making just the right noises to make him hard beyond belief. 

Once he can’t take it anymore, he removes them as his mouth covers yours as he places himself on top of you. Your hands wind into his hair, giving it a tug that juxtaposes how gently and chaste the kiss is, your lips moving together slowly. 

It’s awkward as you try to figure it out but you do quickly as his tongue swipes along your bottom lip and you open up, letting him inside. His hands slide underneath your shirt, rubbing up and down your waist slowly as your tongues move together. 

He pushes your shirt up and it’s off and tosses to the side. Eddie leans up so he can get a good look at you. You suddenly feel self conscious since you didn’t wear one of your more sexy bras. But you didn’t know that this would happen. 

Eddie’s eyes rake over your body and with him, you feel nothing but safe. You haven’t seen him in years but it’s like your bond is still there, that you’re still as close as you used to be. If only you had stayed in the state for college and hadn’t lost his information. You’re sure that that is your only regret.

He doesn’t seem to have any hard feelings, though as he looks like he wants to absolutely devour you. You’re taking off his shirt as he’s unzipping your skirt, pulling it down your waist as his shirt is discarded. He’s kissing down your waist as your skirt is thrown to the floor, whispering the sweetest word against your skin. 

“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs against the spot right above the waistband of your panties. He loops his thumbs through it then pulls them down, letting them fall to the floor before he spreads your legs wide to see what he’s working with. “Fuck, sweetheart, you’re really soaked for me, aren’t you?”

“I need you so bad,” you reply with a whine and his pants are off in a second, his underwear following closely behind, his cock coming into view. You’ve always dreamed about this exact moment, but now that it’s here, you’re almost convinced that you’re dreaming. Maybe that’s because you’re high. 

“Relax, babe,” he laughs. “I’m right here.” He leans down and presses a kiss to your lips before lining himself up with you, slowly inserting just the tip. It already hurts because of your inactivity but you don’t dare ask him to stop. You think he’s gonna go further when he pauses. 

“Fuck, I didn’t even ask if you’re on birth control or anything.” He’s panicking now and you want to do anything you can to get him to calm down. You appreciate that he’s being so sweet and caring and hate that he’s working himself up like this. 

“It’s alright,” You place your hands on top of his that are resting on your waist. You force him to look you in the eyes, giving him a smile that eventually helps him relax. “I am on birth control. And if you don’t want to use a condom, that’s fine.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you let out a laugh. “Now please fuck me before I just do it myself.”

“Yes ma’am,” he nods and adjusts his grip on your waist as he slowly thrusts in and out of you, trying to find a good rhythm. You’re responding just the way he wants you to, moaning when it feels good, bucking your hips against his. 

His nails are digging into your skin as he goes harder, your moans and whines getting even louder as your toes curl in pleasure. Your nails are scratching down his back as he picks up the pace even more, pounding into you over and over again as your pretty sounds fill his ears. This is the best sex he’s ever had and he knows that’s not just because he’s high. 

“Look at you, taking me so well,” he says as his lips find yours again. It’s rough and messy as he’s still thrusting, but he’s just so desperate to have your mouth in his again. You moan into his mouth and he pulls away to let out a moan of his own. “You just feel so good, baby. We just should do this again when the high wears off.”

“I second that,” you breathe. “And again and again.”

“Until the morning and then I'll go to work and when I come back, we’ll do it again.”

“Sounds good to-” your words are cut off by an orgasm, your back arches as you scream out his name, Eddie talking you through the entire thing. 

He keeps going and you’re bucking your hips against his, trying your best to get him there. He’s close, you can see it as he throws his head back. He pulls out quickly, cum leaking out onto your stomach as he’s reaching his own climax. 

Once he’s come down from it, he stands from the bed and grabs hold of your hands, leading you to his bathroom where you two take a much needed shower that’s filled with kisses, washing each other’s bodies, which doesn’t last long before you’re at it again, totally unable to keep your hands off of each other. You then spend the rest of the night and early in the morning getting all tangled up in Eddie’s sheets, deciding that two years really was too long to be apart.

[daryldove]

Distraction

daryl x gn!reader

summary: you keep daryl company daryl while he recovers in the farm house

“cut it out,” you giggle, squirming under daryl's hand as he jabs your side playfully. after offering to take the injured hunter some dinner, you manage to convince him to let you stay and keep him company, something he'll deny enjoying if anyone asks. truthfully, you two had become rather close after everything. although from his perspective, not by choice. “You're supposed to be resting, mister,” you scold him with a smirk as you adjust your position against the headboard.

“can't when ya botherin’ me.” you gasp dramatically at his sarcastic comeback. daryl is incredibly charming, even when he didn't mean to be. it's one of the things you quite admire about him, as well as his sarcastic humour, something the others didn't get to witness to the extent you did. you're not even completely sure if they knew it existed. but he knew how to make you laugh, and he seemed to enjoy it.

“is that what this is now? and here I thought you loved my company, dixon.” that earns you a scoff in response. “admit it,” you continue with a proud tone, “im your favourite in the group.” he doesn't respond right away, forcing you to turn your attention from staring ahead to check on him. the sudden, unexpectedly soft look in his eye has you momentarily speechless.

“what?” you internally thank any god out there that your voice doesn't crack in that moment. gaze flicking over his dirty face, you can't help admire how oddly adorable he looks bundled up under sheets and wrapped in bandages. you feel your heart clench. eventually, daryl shrugs it away with a grunt, shutting himself back off. it's something he does often. you can practically see the thought piling up in his mind, but he always holds back. it stirs an unaccustomed feeling in your gut. complicated.

something feels different this time. maybe because for the first time since you met him, you feel safe. vulnerable. he's lying injured before you, both protected by four walls. it feels wrong to take advantage of this moment to open him up, but maybe that's what it'll take. “are your stitches bothering you?” his hand stops yours from reaching out to touch the bandage around his head, freezing you in place. his hand is rough and warm around yours, short circuiting your mind for a split second. you don't pull away, despite him probably expecting you to. instead, you lean closer towards him.

daryl's eyes flick between yours, as if answers to his curiousity reflects in them. you want to tease him, say something out of pocket that will turn him speechless. instead, you move your hand to rest against his cheek. he practically flinches as you cup his face, reacting like he's undeserving of the softness of your touch. but it doesn't appear unwanted. never.

“how are you feeling?” you ask with a light voice. it's not about his injuries, and he seems to pick up on that. he nods slightly and clears his throat before answering. “good… fine.” your smile grows at his shyness.

“that so?” finally, you let yourself be playful, reassured that he won't be so easily scared off. his gaze is intense and unwavering, and you find yourself unable to resist anymore. leaning down until your lips are barely inches apart, you give him just enough time to pull away. part of you expects him to, like the wall you spent all this time breaking down will be pitched back up in seconds. but he doesn't, nor does he shout and fling himself off the bed to avoid you like your anxiety is convinced he would. so you finally press your lips against his.

daryl's eyes widen in surprise and disbelief while yours subconsciously flutter shut. kissing him feels exactly like you imagined. you can feel your cheeks heating up once you finally pull away, a nervous giggle escaping you at how dazed he looks.

“what?” a smile creeps onto your lips as you question him again. you can practically see daryl's mind spinning as he speechlessly stares up back at you. there's an unreadable look in his eye as seconds pass. unable to help it, your eyes fall to his lips. this time, it's him who pulls you in with a large hand on your neck. his boldness pulls a surprised moan that he swallows.

“guess i am a good distraction,” you whisper after eventually pulling away, scoring a rare, soft chuckle from the hunter.

“guess so.”

[wandixx]

Danny the Young Justice member

“Hey, like, hypothetically, do you think Justice League could pay me if I became hero full time?”

It shaped out to be pretty long and boring stake-out, with rest of Team scattered around but connected with Mindlink, so it seemed like best moment to ask. It wasn’t something Danny wanted to do, but it shaped out to be his only chance to get any future. He cried over it enough times already, so there was even a chance he won’t breakdown trying to discuss it out in the semi-public. He wanted to keep it as calm and rational as he could and hey, if something started to get too emotional, he could say he saw some suspicious movement and fly off to fight someone. Really, it was perfect situation.

“How hypothetical is this question?” Robin asked after a beat of silence. It was quiet and careful, like he was afraid to set him off if he said something wrong or he did it wrong way. It made skin on his back crawl. Danny knew he was a bit more volatile lately, but he really hoped special treatment would stop soon.

“Hypothetical”

“Okay, let’s say we don’t know it’s a lie”

“Unnecessary” Artemis coughed.

“C’mon it kinda was–”

“Can someone just answer my fucking question?”

“I don’t think so. Batman is the one doing most of the funding, and he is really stubborn about school and future. He wants us all to have chance at normal life outside of this hero villain business with regular job and stuff”

That didn’t bode well, but Danny hadn’t got this far by losing hope whenever first obstacle occurred.

“But I could be ready whenever disaster strikes or some villain attacks or really whenever it’s necessary and I wouldn’t need to escape any civilian stuff,” he may have gotten a bit desperate along this little rant, but he just pushed through “It always takes precious minutes and–”

“It doesn’t really seem to be hypothetical anymore,” Wally interrupted and he was lucky to be on different roof, because Danny, he sworn to ancients, would strangle him if redhead was any closer.

He was very adamant about not thinking about how his last ideas of surviving to adulthood started crumbling. He promised himself to not have breakdown in the open.

He wasn’t going to.

It was fine.

He would figure something out. He always did.

“Danny?”

“It’s fine Meg, don’t worry”

“Can we ask what brought this hypothetical on your mind? You’ve always were the most assured that you’ll stop being hero at some point and move on”

Bless Kaldur to always know when to ask best-worst question. Danny wasn’t going to cry, so he wasn’t going to answer.

“We can’t help you if we don’t what’s wrong,” M’gann said softly, like she was just trying to remind him.

Something small hit his lap. A tear. When did it get here?

“It’s fine. It’s just a stupid thought”

“Okay. Tell us when you’re ready”

“Something suspicious is going on, I think it’s what we’re looking for,” Everyone needed Conner on their squad to get conversation back on not emotional track.

As it turned out it was indeed what they were looking for, and soon Danny got to express all of his pent up aggression in only a bit misplaced way.

“That was harsh”

“Shut up, this one doesn’t have pain receptors”

“Phantom has a bad day, huh?”

“You’re about to have worse,” he growled and punched guy until he stopped grinning.

It was quick work after that.

“Danny?”

Only bad side of Mindlink was that he couldn’t act like he was losing connection. It would be useful right now.

“Danny?”

“Not now”

“In the Bioship then. Not a minute later, am I clear?”

“Crystal”

He started calculating a way to get out before. He used to do it all the time, at the beginning. It was easier when Team didn’t know about his human side and they were holding each other at the arms length, but still. He could–

Conner landed right behind him and put hand on his shoulder. It wasn’t restrain, it wasn’t assuring. It was just there.

Here came his plans of escape.

“So–” Artemis started as soon as the door of Ship had closed “– what the fuck is wrong with you lately?”

“We all know it’s not nothing”

“I’m being overdramatic”

“About what?”

Danny just slumped forward and his face in hands.

“Danny”

“I have to retake year. I’m not even half way through highschool and I’m already failing and I- I just can’t do better. It’s not like I don’t have time to study, and I do try sometimes, but just as often I’m just being dumb and messing around, and I knew I failed some other tests, but last one? Last one I was sure I’ve got it, I was trying, I was trying so hard and I still fucked it up and if I can’t make it even when- even when I’m trying my best, then what is the point?”

He took a moment to breathe, to rub tearing eyes. He still wasn’t going to cry.

“I’m already kinda good at this hero thing, so I could just keep it up. I don’t think I’ll make it to the end of high school, so no good job for me, but maybe I could. I could have something, you know. Something useful. Something good. Maybe I can have some life after all”

Someone rubbed his back but he didn’t raise his head to see who.

“I didn’t want to let accident destroy any more of my life than it did, but I don’t think I can”

“Well, impossible sounds right about the task for us. We’ve got you”

Well fuck. That’s about that in not crying department.

[luxerians]

The Last Mask (18.2)

Hwang In-ho/Oh Young-il/Player 001 x Reader

Chapter 18.2 - Humanity [NSFW]

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 19

PREV : Chapter 17.2

SFW ver. : Chapter 18.1

[Hwang In-ho’s Flashback…]

It was during the first few minutes of the Seven-Legged Hexathlon when In-ho stood quietly beside player 423. Her brows furrowed slightly, her lips pressed together in concentration. She was focused. Almost too focused on the first two teams playing Tuho. He noticed the way her eyes tracked every throw, every movement as if she was absorbing every detail.

She wasn’t just watching; she was analyzing, preparing, worrying.

He had seen that kind of look before. People who tried to predict every outcome, tried to control what little they could in an unpredictable situation. He knew it well because he was the overseer of these games. He had watched and noticed everything throughout his times as the Front Man. And yet, something about the way she did it made him pause.

“Don’t be nervous. I’m sure you’ll do fine,” he said, stepping closer.

She turned to look at him, startled for a brief moment. He held her gaze and gave her a small, confident smile. “You said you did it often. I’m certain you’ve got skills.”

Her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to respond, but she hesitated. Instead, she lowered her gaze, something shifting in her expression.

“That was years ago. Now…”

Her voice trailed off, her eyes turning distant. Whatever she was thinking about, it wasn’t the game in front of her anymore. It was something else. Something heavier. In-ho recognized that kind of look, too. It was the look of someone recalling a nightmare without meaning to. He knew because he tended to do it too.

He stared at her intently, curiosity creeping in. What was she hiding? He knew loss when he saw it, knew the weight of burdens unspoken.

Out of nowhere, she shook her head, shaking away whatever thoughts that had taken hold of her. “My arms sometimes tremble uncontrollably. What if it messes up my aim?”

That’s when an idea sprang to his mind. An opportunity to lower her guard and manipulate her further. Without hesitation, In-ho responded, “Then I’ll hold your hands.”

It still felt odd, though. Manipulation or not, he wasn’t the kind of man who offered comfort. The Front Man wouldn’t care. The cold, detached persona he had built over years of isolation wouldn’t have said anything at all.

And yet, here he was, trying for someone he had only known for a short time.

Manipulation or not, maybe it was because she reminded him of something – of warmth, of his past self he had buried. Or maybe it was simply because he thought he was in control of everything. Yes, he is doing this to manipulate her, he convinced himself.

After completing the Seven-Legged Hexathlon, the group returned to the dormitory. In-ho, playing his part, apologized for failing the Spinning Top multiple times – even though he had done so intentionally. He was expecting little reaction, maybe even some teasing, but instead, you smiled warmly at him.

“It’s okay,” you said. “Everyone has moments like that, but you didn’t give up, and that’s what mattered.”

For a moment, In-ho just stared at you, caught off guard once again.

Your words always seemed to slip through his defenses, seeping into places he had long sealed off. It was unnerving how easily you could disarm him, how your warmth found cracks in the cold exterior he had spent years perfecting. It felt as if you had known him far longer than just these past few days. As if you saw through him. Not just the man he pretended to be, but the one he had buried beneath layers of control and calculation.

His eyes softened before he could stop them, and he smiled. Was it real? He wasn’t sure. He had been pretending for so long that even he couldn’t always tell.

Then, that moment came.

The smile on your lips turned fake. That’s when you told them. About your parents, about the weight of your family situation, and about the staggering 350 million won debt that had pulled you into this place.

In-ho watched you closely, reading every small detail.

The way you kept faking a smile, the way you tried to make it sound like everything was fine. But he saw the strain beneath it, the exhaustion of someone carrying far too much for far too long.

And something inside him tightened.

He knew that look all too well. The quiet acceptance of an unfair fate. He had worn it himself, once.

For the first time, his reaction wasn’t calculated. He simply watched you, feeling something unfamiliar creep into his chest. A quiet ache. A reluctant understanding.

And perhaps, just for a moment, he hated that he cared.

Not only that, but he felt an anger so deep it surprised him. The thought of anyone threatening you, forcing you into this situation, made his blood simmer with quiet rage. The image of you struggling under the weight of someone else’s cruelty refused to leave his mind.

These men had taken advantage of you, had pushed you into a corner with no way out. And now, standing here, watching you mask your pain with that forced smile, he knew one thing for certain.

Once these games are over, he would find them.

Soon enough, In-ho saw the full extent of your kindness. He watched the way you treated player 222. Of course, everyone who learned of her condition was gentle with her, but the way you cared for her was different. Softer, warmer, motherly and deeply sincere.

What he didn’t realize yet was how much he liked seeing that kindness spread from you to everyone else, including him.

He didn’t yet understand that he was drawn to you the way the tide is drawn to the moon. Inevitably, irresistibly, without question.

Then came the moment when everyone in the group began introducing themselves.

“My name is [Your Full Name],” you said next, offering a small smile. “I’ve never checked what it means.”

From the corner of his eye, In-ho noticed the others nodding in acknowledgment, but his focus stayed on you. He smiled to himself, content. Now he had your name.

Before joining the game as a spy, he hadn’t bothered learning the players’ names. Why would he? Ninety-nine percent of them wouldn’t make it to the end.

Now, however, knowing your name felt like something worth keeping.

“It sounds perfect for you. Beautiful, even,” he said.

Your reaction was immediate. Your head dipped, eyes lowering as if his words had caught you off guard. There was a flicker of shyness, an innocence to the way you absorbed his compliment. He stared at you quietly, taking in that moment before finally introducing himself.

“I’m Oh Young-il.”

“Young-il?” Player 390, whose name was Jung-bae, blinked.

“Yes,” In-ho gestured toward his player number. “Young-il sounds like ‘zero one,’ and that’s my number. Easy to remember.”

Player 388, Dae-ho, looked at him with amazement. “Oh, that’s true! Your name is your number!”

“What a coincidence,” you remarked, smiling. “Maybe the game makers noticed the connection and assigned you as 001 on purpose.”

In-ho’s smile widened in amusement, finding your comment inwardly hilarious. “Who knows? It does feel a little too perfect.”

***

“[Your name].”

In-ho’s head turned instinctively. Gi-hun had approached and now stood beside you on the staircase. It was right after the announcement of how much each surviving player would receive if the majority voted for X.

He didn’t even know why he reacted like that – instinctive and swift. It wasn’t even his real name, but hearing yours always seemed to pull his attention.

Gi-hun stared at you, his expression solemn.

“If the vote goes our way and we leave this game, memorize my phone number,” he said. “Contact me. I want to help you and your situation.”

Something dark curled in In-ho’s chest. There it is. He barely held back a scoff. That oh-so-heroic self. Trying to impress her that much, Gi-hun?

But Gi-hun had no idea what was running through In-ho’s mind. He kept going.

“I still have billions of won left. More than enough to help your family. If you’re more comfortable, we can arrange to meet somewhere. Maybe at a park or a subway station.”

Pathetic.

Gi-hun was dangling a solution in front of you, playing the role of savior like he always did. But what irritated In-ho more was your reaction. You looked amazed. Grateful, even. The appreciation in your eyes, the warmth in your voice as you responded, “Thank you. That would mean a lot.”

In-ho’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening. His gaze flickered between you both, the sight of it making his stomach churn. The idea of you meeting Gi-hun outside this game, of continuing this connection, of sharing moments beyond these walls. It unsettled him in a way he didn’t want to acknowledge.

If the majority voted X, you and Gi-hun would meet again. You’d talk, you’d share stories, you’d smile at him the way you sometimes smiled at In-ho now. And that displeased him more than it should have.

More than it ever should have.

Then In-ho spoke up, “I’d like to help as well.”

You turned to him swiftly, wide-eyed in astonishment. In-ho instinctively smiled, satisfied that your attention was back where it belonged – on him.

He added with a reassuring tone, “Whether it’s protection or financial support, I’ll do whatever I can. If we leave this place, let’s set up a meeting as well.”

Your cheeks tinged with a faint crimson before you bowed your head in gratitude. “Thank you so much, you two.”

In-ho nodded, but just as he looked up, his gaze met Gi-hun’s. The younger man was frowning at him. The two locked eyes, exchanging a silent but charged stare. Then, Gi-hun’s gaze flickered to the O patch on In-ho’s chest.

Oh? Is he doubting me because I voted to stay last time?

In-ho kept his voice even as he addressed Gi-hun directly. “Don’t worry. I want to stop here too.”

Gi-hun’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but something about his expression remained unreadable. In-ho thought that was the end of it. But then Gi-hun nodded and spoke again.

“Ah, right. You have a wife waiting for you at the hospital.”

Something snapped in In-ho. His jaw clenched, his body tensed, every nerve in his body suddenly alert. He didn’t need to glance at you to know that Gi-hun’s words hit you like a punch to the chest. He could feel the weight of your stunned silence, the realization crashing over you like a tidal wave.

He knew exactly what must be running through your mind. After all, there was something between you two. So subtle, yet undeniably alive. You and he had been moving toward something, slow and inevitable, changing the way he saw the world – changing him. You had altered something in his very chemistry, and he knew you felt it too.

But now?

Now you knew he was married. Or in your head at that moment, is married.

He didn’t need to ask to understand the kind of person you were. You were the type to respect boundaries, to step back the moment you realized there was a line you shouldn’t cross. You would let go, even if it hurt you, because you were that kind and selfless. And that realization made his stomach twist.

Sure, he should have told you. He should have explained everything. About his wife, about what had happened. But he had wanted to tell you on his own terms, when you were alone, when he had control over how the truth was revealed.

But Gi-hun had taken that choice away from him.

It wasn’t an accident. It was too perfectly timed, too deliberate. In-ho’s mind reeled. Could it be that Gi-hun had noticed? Had he seen something between you two?

Does he like you too?

Is he trying to put an end to whatever was growing between us?

His fists curled at his sides as he forced himself to keep his face neutral. But the damage had already been done. And worst of all, now you knew.

After the majority of players voted to stay in the games, In-ho’s eyes subconsciously searched for you. When he found you lying in bed, he gravitated toward you without thinking. But he wasn’t the only one. Dae-ho and Jun-hee were also approaching.

His gaze flickered to Gi-hun. There he stood, frozen in the middle of the X zone, drowning in despair over the result, over the players’ greed. In-ho should have enjoyed the sight, should have taken satisfaction in watching Gi-hun’s naive ideals crumble. This vote had proved In-ho right. These players weren’t victims. They had chosen to stay.

Yet, instead of smirking at Gi-hun’s misery, In-ho kept walking toward you.

When he reached your bed, he realized you were trying to sleep. It was obvious. You were disappointed too.

Dae-ho sighed beside him. “I’m disappointed too. Jung-bae voting for O? I didn’t see that coming. I felt like screaming, ‘Sir, what are you thinking?’ at him. He agreed with us to vote for going back home just moments before the vote.”

“It can’t be helped,” In-ho spoke up, his tone even. “People tend to change their minds once they’re standing at the voting counter.”

His eyes lingered on your face, searching for any sign that his presence had an impact on you. But there was none.

Was it because you knew about my marriage? Had that changed things between us already?

He didn’t like that thought. He didn’t like the uncertainty it brought.

He found himself staring longer than he should have, lost in thought, until movement from Dae-ho snapped him out of it. The man leaned against the pillar of your bunk bed, exhaling a heavy sigh. “I understand him, but… what was Jung-bae thinking?”

In-ho cast a dark glance at Dae-ho, who remained oblivious. He noticed it then – the way Dae-ho hovered, the way he was so quick to linger by your side.

Did he like you?

It made sense. You were warmth in a place like this, a rare softness amidst brutality. Of course, others would be drawn to you. But In-ho didn’t want that. He didn’t know why, but the thought of someone else getting too close to you made something stir inside him. Something possessive.

So he acted.

Without a word, he sat down at the far corner of your bed, closing the distance between you both. He was now the closest to you, closer than Dae-ho, closer than anyone else.

“There’s no use thinking about it now,” he said, his voice steady. “The votes are done. Let’s focus on staying together and winning the game again tomorrow.”

Then came the moment when you refused to get up and queue for dinner.

“Don’t be like that,” Dae-ho urged. “You’ll end up weak and all skinny tomorrow.”

A brief silence followed before you quipped, “I’m trying to go on a diet anyway, so it’s fine.”

Dae-ho waved off your excuse. “Haih, you look beautiful already. Now get up—”

Before he could continue, In-ho spoke up, his voice firm yet composed. “It’s okay. You two go on ahead. The queues are getting long. I’ll persuade her.”

Dae-ho and Jun-hee hesitated, but after a moment, they left.

In-ho turned back to you, watching as you remained lying in bed, unmoving, your disappointment in the voting result still weighing heavily on you. He then attempted to coax you into queuing for dinner, but you remained lying in bed. You had no appetite, no motivation, only a heavy frustration that dulled your sense of hunger.

In-ho knew at this moment that coaxing you further would be useless. But he could do something else. He could make sure you ate.

After all, the next game was the Mingle game. Running, speed, stamina. It would all matter. And you wouldn’t get far on an empty stomach.

So, without another word, he left and joined the dinner queue. When he reached the front, the worker guard supervising the line handed him a single set of a round bun and a carton of milk.

In-ho didn’t take it.

Instead, he reached straight into the box, his fingers closing around a bun and a milk carton. He slipped them smoothly into the pocket of his jacket, then grabbed another set as if nothing had happened.

The worker guard hesitated, momentarily stunned. Behind him, a manager noticed but did nothing. Of course, they wouldn’t stop him. They knew exactly who he was.

Without another glance, In-ho turned and walked away, making sure none of the other players saw what he had done.

In-ho arrived at your bedside and called your name softly. The moment your eyes fluttered open, he handed you your set of dinner. You frowned before resting your head back against the pillow.

“I don’t want to eat your dinner. Don’t worry about me,” you murmured.

In-ho was amused. Even after knowing about his marriage, even when he knew you were hungry, your kindness and concern for him still remained. That part of you hadn’t changed. He glanced around briefly before revealing another set of dinner from his jacket.

“It’s not mine,” he told you. “It’s yours.”

Your gaze shifted to the food in his hands. Two sets – two buns and two cartons of milk. Surprise flickered across your face as you slowly sat up, the blanket slipping down from your shoulders.

“You got two?”

“I took another set on your behalf,” he admitted, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Your eyes widened. “We can do that?”

His smile grew in amusement. “We can’t.”

You stared at him, perplexed. “Then how did you get two?”

He extended the dinner toward you again, his voice calm yet knowing. “I know what to say to the guards. My line of work taught me how.”

***

[Back to present…]

“I may have led this hell myself, but I will be the one to keep you from burning.”

You closed your eyes, torn between the storm inside you and the undeniable pull of his touch.

Sensing no resistance from you, In-ho pulled the blanket around your naked body. His movements were careful and tender as if handling something fragile. Once you clutched it closer around yourself, he kissed your temple before shifting away from you.

You watched in silence as he sat at the side of the bed, bent down and retrieved a radio from a pocket of his Front Man coat. He pressed the button and brought it close to his bare face. “What’s the status on my dinner?”

A static-filled voice responded, “Currently being prepared, sir. It will be delivered shortly.”

You stared at his side profile quietly, noticing how attractive he looked from this angle.

In-ho informed, “Make another serving. Bring them both to my room as usual.”

“Understood.”

He set the radio down and turned back to you. His hair, no longer slicked back with oil, was all over his forehead. He looked every bit the Young-il you grew to love. And oh, it melted your guard as you stared at him quietly. His eyes – which you had seen turned dark and ruthless more than once – were now looking back at you softly.

He looked away and got up from the bed. He went to grab a black towel, wrapping it around his hips. He then retrieved a glass and a water bottle from the cupboard behind his study desk, pouring the clear liquid into the glass before turning back to you.

Silently, he extended it toward you. You hesitated for a moment before taking it from him, bringing it to your lips and drinking deeply. The cool water soothed your dry throat, but it did nothing to ease the tension gripping your chest.

“Wait here and rest up,” he said, his voice steady. “I’ll call you when your dinner has arrived.”

“But Young—” you caught yourself, your lips pressing into a thin line before correcting, “I mean, In-ho. What will happen now? Will the games continue like usual?”

He met your gaze, but said nothing. His silence weighed heavier than any answer could have. You could see it in his eyes – this was the path he had chosen, the role he had accepted. The games would go on.

Disappointment settled over you like a thick fog, dimming whatever flicker of hope you had clung to. “What about our friends?”

Still, no answer. Just that same unreadable stare. A wall between you that you weren’t sure could ever be broken.

The sudden shrill ring of a wired telephone shattered the silence, making you flinch under the blanket. In-ho, too, tensed at the sound, his gaze snapping toward the door. His entire posture stiffened. You watched him carefully as he stared into space, contemplating.

Without turning back to you, he muttered, “Wait here.”

He strode to where his Front Man attire lay discarded on the floor. You observed as he put on his boxer and black pants and retrieved the dark coat, pulling it over his broad shoulders before reaching for the smooth, geometrical mask. He placed it over his face, transforming instantly from the man you knew into the enigma that ruled this place.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you swathed in the blanket on his bed. You kept still, suppressing even your breathing as you sharpened your hearing, hoping to catch fragments of the conversation.

The ringing ceased, replaced by the deep, robotic distortion of his voice as he answered in fluent English.

“Front Man speaking.”

A pause stretched. You wished you could hear the other caller but the walls swallowed the words before they could reach you. Then, In-ho’s voice emerged again, composed and authoritative.

“Ensure they don’t get anywhere close to this location.”

Another beat of silence. Then, he added, “All eyes are on Player 456. We will not allow another incident.”

You inhaled sharply. He was talking about Gi-hun. A cold realization settled over you. Gi-hun was still seen as a threat. They were watching his every move, ensuring he wouldn't instigate another uprising.

A long pause followed. You assumed the call had ended when you heard the soft ding of the elevator from beyond the door. Your heartbeat quickened.

Footsteps. Several of them. Boots clicking against the polished black and gold floor. Then, In-ho’s voice echoed once more, deep and authoritative. “Place them in the dining room.”

More steps, followed by the faint creak of a door opening. Ten seconds later, you heard those footsteps again in the hallway before another ding of the elevator.

Seconds later, the door to the bedroom where you lay opened. It was In-ho, fully dressed in his Front Man attire except for the mask. He had removed it, and his hoodie was down.

“Our dinner has arrived,” he announced as he stepped inside, standing beside the bed. His gaze softened as he looked down at you. “Can you stand?”

With your hands clutching the blanket tightly around yourself, you shifted toward the side of the bed. That’s when a hand, palm up, hovered in front of you. You blinked, glancing up at him with wide, hesitant eyes. In-ho was offering his hand to you.

You hesitated, your gaze flickering between his eyes and his outstretched palm, before finally placing your hand in his. His fingers curled around yours, firm yet gentle, as he helped you rise from the bed. Your legs wobbled the moment your feet touched the floor, but his steady grip anchored you.

Before you could sway again, he slid an arm around your shoulders, drawing you closer against his chest. The warmth of his body radiated through the fabric of his clothing, and you gawked at him in quiet astonishment. The unexpected tenderness of the gesture, the close proximity of your bodies, left you feeling strangely breathless.

In-ho met your gaze, his expression calm and reassuring. “Let's go. I'll help you to the bathroom so you can clean up.”

Without another word, he guided you across the room, his arm remaining securely around your shoulders. Your naked form was still wrapped in the heavy black blanket from his bed, the fabric trailing along the floor as you moved. Yet, he seemed utterly unbothered by it. If anything, his focus was solely on ensuring you remained steady on your feet.

The two of you made your way toward the bathroom in silence. Each step sent a dull ache through your body, a lingering reminder of the intensity from earlier. But with In-ho's arm keeping you steady, the exhaustion felt more bearable.

You stepped into the opulent black and gold bathroom, feeling the contrast between the cool marble floor and your warm skin. A long, polished black marble sink stretched along one side of the room, adorned with gold-trimmed mirrors that reflected the soft, ambient lighting. The walk-in shower stood enclosed by sleek glass doors, its golden fixtures gleaming under the soft illumination. In the far corner, a luxurious bathtub rested as if waiting to cradle someone in its warmth.

In-ho guided you toward the shower, his arm still loosely wrapped around your shoulders. Stopping just before the glass door, he cautiously released his hold on you.

“You should take a shower first,” he said gently. “Then we can have dinner together.”

You nodded quietly, shifting slightly under his gaze. Your fingers hesitated before finally loosening the grip on the blanket wrapped around your form. The cool air brushed against your bare skin, making you shiver slightly.

Without a word, In-ho peeled the blanket off of you and folded it before he placed it over the marble sink. His movements were calm but when he turned back, his gaze darkened. His eyes roamed over your form, the once-calm expression clouded with something deeper. Something raw. Lust and longing flickered in his face, restrained yet unmistakable.

Your breath hitched as you noticed the way he was looking at you, heat rising to your cheeks. You quickly averted your gaze, pushing open the shower door as a means of breaking the tension. Stepping inside, you took a moment to examine the golden fixtures, scanning for a way to turn the water on.

Before you could figure it out, In-ho followed you inside, his presence looming close behind.

“Here,” he murmured, stepping forward. His fingers brushed against yours briefly before he reached up, adjusting the settings on the panel.

“This controls the temperature,” he explained, demonstrating how to find the right heat. Then, turning a different handle, he activated the rainfall shower above, letting warm water cascade down in smooth, steady streams. “And this is for the pressure.”

You stood still as the heat of the water mixed with the heat of his body near yours. The tension between you was thick, tangible. You swallowed hard, willing yourself to focus on the shower rather than the man beside you.

In-ho studied you for a moment longer before stepping back, his gaze lingering on your form. His voice was barely audible above the sound of the rainfall shower as he said, “I'll be outside when you're ready.”

With one last fleeting glance, he exited the shower, closing the glass door behind him. As the steam from the hot water filled the room, it obscured your view of him through the glass. By the time you lifted your gaze, he was already gone.

Dinner was quiet, tension thick in the air. The black and gold-themed dining room, though elegant, felt stifling. Both of you wore matching black bathrobes, fresh from the shower, the scent of soap still lingering.

You ate slowly, your mind too preoccupied to focus on the food. Across the table, In-ho watched you, his dark eyes lingering. There was something restrained in his gaze. Something dark and lustful.

Once the meal ended, In-ho stood and gestured for you to follow. You hesitated but eventually rose, trailing behind him through the grand halls.

The walk to his bedroom felt slow. When you entered the dimly lit space, unease settled in your chest. You sat on the bed as In-ho turned to the door. Without hesitation, he reached for the lock and twisted it shut. The soft click echoed, sending a shiver down your spine.

The next thing you knew, you found yourself kneeling on the floor next to the bed, with him standing upright in front of you. You shyly licked his cock, all the while feeling the intensity of In-ho’s gaze on you. He took in a sharp breath as your tongue made contact, his hands instinctively finding your hair. His fingers tangled into the strands, grip firm yet not forceful.

“Suck,” he commanded softly but clearly. His usually deep voice had turned husky, desire glazing his eyes. You paused for a moment, meeting his gaze before taking him into your mouth. The salty taste was foreign to you but not entirely unpleasant.

In-ho’s body tensed as you did so. He threw his head back, a low groan escaping from his throat. Your fingers grazed against the thick veins on his cock, feeling the pulse throb beneath your touch.

You continued, your lips and tongue working around him. His grunts and moans were sporadic, filling the room with intoxicating sounds of pleasure. You found it arousing, the way he reacted to your ministrations, watched as he lost control bit by bit.

His grip tightened in your hair as you took him deeper, the pressure of his fingers a stark reminder of the power dynamic between you two. His other hand found its way to your cheek, his thumb gently stroking across it in a soothing manner as if to reassure you.

“Slow down,” he instructed, his voice strained. “Take your time.”

You took a moment to adjust your pace, watching his reaction as you did so. In-ho's eyes were half-lidded, his gaze burning into yours. The intense look sent shivers down your spine, stirring an unfamiliar sensation in your core.

He let out another low groan as you slowly pulled away, a thin trail of saliva connecting you two briefly before breaking. His grip in your hair loosened slightly as you moved to lick at the base. You didn't miss the way his breath hitched at the change in stimulation.

As you continued working, In-ho's hand moved from your cheek to your shoulder, then down to gently grasp one of your breasts through your bathrobe. The sensation of his warm hand cupping you so intimately made you squirm, the tingling feeling spreading out from your center. His thumb brushed your nipple through the fabric, his touch lingering and firm. You gasped around him, the unexpected stimulation making you moan.

In-ho grunted in response, his grip on your hair tightening again. He took a step forward, forcing you to take his cock deeper and look up at him. His eyes were glazed over with desire, his breath coming in ragged pants.

“Look at me,” he commanded, voice quiet but firm.

You complied, meeting his intense gaze as your lips slid over him once more. The moan that slipped from his lips sent a thrill of satisfaction through you. Your hands gently gripped In-ho’s thighs for support, your head bobbing up and down as your lips slid over him.

The dim light from the lamp cast a golden glow on his skin, highlighting the way his muscles tensed and relaxed with each moan that escaped his lips. You could see the desire in his eyes, urging you to continue. His hand was tangled in your hair, his fingers gently pulling and directing your movements.

You could feel the heat between your bodies, your breaths coming in short pants as you worked to bring him to the edge of ecstasy. His body reacted to your every touch, his hips lifting in response and his chest rising and falling with heavy breathing. The sound of your soft gasps and moans mix with In-ho’s own pleasured moans.

The desire that filled the room was palpable, intoxicating. You could feel your own arousal building, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. His grip tightened in your hair as he let out a low groan. Your tongue swirled around him, coaxing more sounds from his throat; each one was a reward, further igniting the heat within you.

“Good girl,” In-ho breathed, his voice laced with pleasure. The praise sent a wave of warmth through you, spurring you on.

Eager to please him further, you reached up with one hand to cup his balls gently. He groaned louder at the additional stimulation, his hips bucking slightly.

In-ho’s grip on your hair tightened as he pulled you deeper into his hard cock, his intense gaze meeting yours. His voice was husky with desire, his hands holding your head firmly, when he spoke. “Can I take over?”

You nodded, a shiver running through you at the thought of giving yourself completely to him. In-ho’s dominant side was a huge turn on for you. You felt both frightened and anxious since it was your first experience, but you appreciated him taking charge in this scenario.

Without a word, he began to move your head back and forth along his length, setting a rhythm that had you both moaning. You could feel yourself getting lost in the pleasure; the taste of him on your tongue, the sensation of his cock sliding against the skin of your mouth, the sounds of his moans filling the room, and the sensations coursing through your body. Your hands were now free to roam over his thighs and stomach, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch.

His fingers gently guided your head up and down, his pace increasing slowly but surely. You could tell by the way his breathing became more erratic and his grip on your hair tightened even further that he was getting more and more aroused.

As he guided your head and movements, you gazed up at him with wide eyes, noticing that he was gradually losing control. His eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, now burned with unbridled lust. The sight of this normally composed man unraveling before you sent a thrill of power and arousal through your body. His grip on your hair became nearly painful - yet pleasurable - as he started to thrust faster.

“F-fuck,” In-ho grunted, his voice strained and ragged.

You tried your best to relax your throat, taking him as deep as you could while continuing to work your tongue along his thick shaft. The room filled with the sickening sound of wet, sloppy sucking as he eventually used your mouth mercilessly for his pleasure. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes from the intensity of it all, but you didn't stop him. You didn’t want to.

His hips now moved with a mind of their own, slamming forward and forcing his throbbing cock deep into your mouth and down your throat. The tip kissed the back of your throat with each violent thrust, gagging you again and again as drool spilled down your chin. Tears streamed down your face from the intense treatment of your mouth. Yet through the haze of tears and pain, you saw his face contort in pure concentration, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead as he chased his pleasure.

Despite the punishing pace and force of his thrusts, he showed no signs of slowing down or stopping. His stamina seemed endless as he used you like a mere object for his selfish gratification. You felt like a toy, a set of warm, wet holes for him to rut into. The realization sent a sick thrill through you, knowing you were truly at his mercy.

Minutes passed in this manner, your jaw aching and throat raw as he fucked your face with reckless abandon. Just as you thought your jaw would give out and your throat could no longer take the brutal pounding, In-ho slammed his hips forward one final time.

Your eyes widened in shock as he sheathed his throbbing cock deep into your mouth, the bulbous head kissing the entrance to your throat as he hilted inside you. You felt his shaft pulse and throb against your tongue as he began to unload thick, hot ropes of semen directly into your gullet.

The first spurt caught you by surprise, causing you to gag and convulse around his plunging cock. But his grip on your hair never wavered as spurt after heavy spurt of his potent seed pumped into your throat, forcing your neck to swallow convulsively.

You could only whimper and moan around his softening member as he emptied his heavy balls deep in your mouth and throat. The sheer volume of his release surprised you. It seemed to go on forever, your neck bulging slightly with each fresh gush of jizz.

Finally, with a last shuddering groan, he finished, his softening cock slipping out of your abused mouth with a wet pop. Pearly drops of semen clung to your swollen lips before dripping down onto your heaving chest.

You placed a shaky hand on the floor to support yourself, coughing and sputtering as you tried to regain your breath. Your other hand remained pressed against your mouth, feeling the tacky remnants of his release coating your fingers. As you blinked away the tears, you became vaguely aware of In-ho's heavy breathing filling the otherwise silent room.

Seconds later, you felt him crouch down beside you, one large hand coming to rest gently on your back.

“I’m sorry,” he began, his usually deep voice now laced with concern and regret, “for being rough with you. I got carried away.”

His voice was genuine, filled with remorse and regret. You could see it in his eyes too, the way they softened as he took in your disheveled state. His hand gently rubbed your back in soothing circles, a stark contrast to the brutal way he had just used you. Despite the throbbing pain in your jaw and throat, a thin smile crept onto your face.

“It's okay…” you managed to rasp out in between coughs, your voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. “I let you, didn’t I?”

A look of shock crossed his handsome features before being replaced by a hesitant smile. With his hand still gently rubbing your back, he murmured, “You're really something else.”

You could feel yourself growing sleepy as exhaustion began to creep up on you, the adrenaline of your earlier activities slowly wearing off. Sensing this, In-ho was about to carry you into his bed when you extended your hand to stop him, keeping him from coming any nearer. He gave you a surprised look, clearly taken aback by your avoidance.

You shook your head to him as if reassuring him. “I just need to go to the bathroom.”

Afterward, In-ho kept his distance but never let you out of his sight. He trailed you to the bathroom and even assisted in washing your face. For someone his age, he appeared quite attached as if he wanted to soak up every moment in your company.

Before long, In-ho assisted you onto the bed and joined you there. He draped the blanket over both of you and gently drew you back against his chest, enveloping you in his comforting warmth. His strong arm encircled your waist securely, while his fingers leisurely traced gentle patterns on your bare skin, crafting a calming rhythm that eased you deeper into relaxation.

You assumed it was over, and it was – for that night. However, the following morning, you were stirred from sleep by the sound of heavy breathing behind you and felt a persistent firmness pressing against your bare backside beneath the blanket. Gradually, you became aware that In-ho was either becoming aroused or experiencing morning wood.

Before you could fully wake up, you felt a persistent pressure against your backside as In-ho shifted positions slightly. The next thing you knew, his large hand was gripping your hip firmly as he guided his hard, thick cock to nestle between your soft buttocks. Your eyes widened as he began to grind against you, his hips moving in a slow, teasing rhythm.

That’s when he stopped. You felt him inching closer to your ear and he groggily spoke, “You awake?”

You gave a shy nod, then reached back to hold his hip with one hand. He interpreted this as permission and started to move. You could only let out a soft gasp as he slipped his cockhead past your tight entrance, pushing insistently against the resistant ring of muscle. Your body instinctively clenched around him but his persistence won out as he slowly sank into your hot, velvety depths with a low groan of satisfaction.

In one swift, powerful thrust, he buried himself balls-deep inside you. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as your body arched back against his chest. He didn't give you any time to adjust before he began to move, his hips drawing back until just the tip remained inside before slamming forward again, burying himself to the hilt.

He set a hard, deep pace as he pounded into you ruthlessly, his hand gripping your hip tightly enough to bruise. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin and your mingled moans and grunts filled the room as he took his pleasure from your pliant body.

Despite the brutal treatment of your body, you found yourself pushing back against his every thrust, matching his rhythm instinctively. The sensation was too intoxicating, a delicious mix of pain and pleasure that made your toes curl and spine tingle. Tears sprang to your eyes again from the sheer intensity of it all, but you merely moaned and whimpered it all out.

He wasn’t gentle, nor did he give you any respite. His thrusts were unrelenting and savage as he used your body to sate his need. But in an odd way, you relished the rawness of it all – the primal need that In-ho unabashedly expressed through his brutal lovemaking. You ended up loving his aggression and roughness.

Time seemed to blur as he continued to pump into you relentlessly, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. His thick cock stretched you open with each movement, filling you with an intensity that left you gasping for breath.

Next round later, you found yourself straddling In-ho's hips, his large hands gripping your waist tightly as you rode him with fervor. Your hair was a wild mess, sweat-dampened strands clinging to your flushed cheeks and neck. The room was filled with the rhythmic slap of skin against skin and the erotic sounds of your moans and his grunts echoing off the walls.

In-ho's eyes, dark and intense, watched you intently as you bounced on his thick cock. He seemed transfixed by the way your breasts jiggled with each movement, the creamy mounds glistening with a sheen of sweat. His grip on your hips tightened, guiding you to take him deeper and faster.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he grunted, his voice ragged and rough with lust. “So good taking my cock so well.”

His words sent a thrill through you, spurring you to ride him harder and faster. You could feel every thick inch of him stretching you open, filling you completely. The pleasure was almost too much to bear.

Your hips moved with a frenzied rhythm, bouncing on his lap as sweat dripped down your flushed skin. In-ho’s hands held onto your hips tightly as he thrust upwards to meet your movements. Each plunge sent a ripple of pleasure through your body, causing you to moan and writhe in ecstasy. His face was contorted with pleasure, his dark eyes watching every move as you took him deep inside you. Your bodies were slick with sweat and your moans filled the air, creating an erotic symphony that echoed throughout the room.

The room was filled with the sound of skin hitting skin, like the drumbeat of a wild and passionate dance. Wet squelching and slapping noises echoed throughout the room as In-ho's cock plunged into your semen-filled pussy again and again, his hips meeting yours with a primal rhythm. The sound of your moans and the slickness of your sweat adding to the intensity.

“Come on,” he commanded, his voice strained with impending release. “Use me. Come over my cock.”

Your eyes met his in a heated stare, the intensity of his gaze causing a spark of need to ignite within you. His words were a catalyst that incited your primal instincts, driving you to abandon any remaining inhibitions. With a desperate nod, you continued to grind against him, your movements growing more frantic until pleasure consumed your senses, making your eyes roll back and your mouth open in a silent scream.

His hands gripped your waist tighter as he thrust up ferociously, the rhythm wild and uncontrolled. The intensity was overwhelming, the pressure coiling tightly within you, pushing you both to the precipice of release. Just as you felt the impending rush of orgasm, he pulled you down hard onto his cock one final time.

“Now!” he growled commandingly. The command was all it took for your body to finally surrender to the waves of pleasure that washed over you. Your muscles tightened around him as an intense orgasm rocked through you, your cries echoing around the room.

Your body shuddered and convulsed, overcome by the explosive force of your climax. A scream of pure ecstasy tore from your throat as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashed over you. Your inner walls clenched and fluttered around In-ho's throbbing cock, gripping him like a vice as your orgasm reached its peak.

But In-ho was far from satisfied. Even as you trembled and gasped through the aftershocks, he gripped your hips tightly, fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises. With a feral growl, he slammed upwards, burying himself to the hilt inside your still-spasming pussy.

“Fuck, I'm not done with you yet,” he snarled through gritted teeth, his eyes wild and consumed with lust. He began to pound into you with renewed vigor, each powerful thrust shaking your entire body and forcing moans from your raw throat.

Despite the sensitivity of your overstimulated flesh, you found yourself meeting his rough thrusts eagerly, your hips undulating in tandem with his. The knowledge that he was still so hard, still so hungry for you, only fueled your own rekindled arousal.

Your hands rested on his damp chest, allowing him to take over. Even though he was beneath you, he wasn't losing control or submitting to you. Instead, he took control of your body and cunt all the time in complete dominance. His forceful and swift thrusts caused you to collapse onto his chest. As your bare chests brushed against each other, you gazed at him with half-closed eyes and parted lips.

Without warning, In-ho placed a hand on the back of your head and pressed his lips firmly against yours. Your tongues intertwined in a passionate dance as he continued to thrust into you repeatedly.

Lost in the throes of passion, you could only cling to him as he took you with wild abandon. Your nails dug into his chest, leaving red crescents in their wake as he drove into you relentlessly. Each powerful thrust sent jolts of pleasure-pain shooting through your sensitive nerve endings, stoking the fires of your rekindled arousal.

In-ho's grip on your hips tightened, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises as he slammed up into your still fluttering pussy. The wet, obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your desperate moans and his harsh grunts.

In-ho's hips snapped upwards sharply, burying himself to the hilt in your dripping heat. The head of his cock kissed your cervix, sending a bolt of pleasure zinging up your spine. You could feel him growing even harder, his member swelling and twitching inside your clinging sheath.

“Fuck… I’m… close!” he grunted, each word punctuated by a sharp thrust. His face was a mask of concentration, jaws clenched and eyes squeezed shut as he chased his rapidly approaching climax.

Suddenly, with a groan, he slammed into you one final time, grinding his pelvis against yours as his cock jerked and spasmed violently inside you. Searing hot ropes of his seed gushed from his pulsing member, painting your insides white as he emptied his heavy balls deep in your womb.

Panting heavily, you collapsed against In-ho's sweat-slicked chest as the last spurts of his release trickled inside you. His heart raced beneath your ear, matching the frantic pounding of your own. Slowly, you became aware of the hot, sticky fluid seeping out around his softening cock, dripping down to stain the sheets beneath you.

In-ho kept his arms wrapped around you possessively, holding your limp body against his as he caught his breath. His hands slid up and down your back soothingly, almost lovingly. He pressed soft kisses to your hair, your temple, your cheek, murmuring words of praise and apologies.

“I’m sorry… again… for being rough…” he murmured, his voice low and rough from exertion. “You’re amazing… thank you for trusting me…”

You could only hum softly in response, too spent and sated to form coherent words. Your body felt deliciously sore and used, every inch of your skin tingling from his touch.

***

Several hours later, after sharing a shower, you both found yourselves in his bedroom. In-ho was getting dressed in his Front Man outfit, while you, still wrapped in your black bathrobe, searched the room for something.

He noticed and pointed. “Your clothes are over there.”

You followed his gesture and saw black pants and a matching trench coat. It looked just like his outfit, but there was no geometric mask for you.

After a moment of hesitation, you asked, “Where’s my uniform?”

In-ho turned to you, his dark eyes locking onto yours. His hair was still messy from the shower, hanging over his forehead. He looked you over before asking with a neutral expression, “What uniform?”

“My manager uniform,” you clarified.

He looked away, adjusting his coat. His posture stiffened as he responded, “You don’t need to disguise yourself as a manager anymore. You can stay here until the games are over.”

Your eyes widened. “Are you serious? You can’t keep me locked up here the entire time.”

“I’m not,” he said simply. He finished adjusting his coat and turned back to face you, his expression unreadable. “You’re safer here. You won’t have to worry about getting caught.”

You shook your head. “But I still want to wear the disguise.”

His gaze hardened. “You want to help them in the next game, don’t you?”

You didn’t answer. He had figured it out instantly. He knew you were thinking about your friends – Jun-hee, Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Dae-ho, Yong-sik and his mother, Hyun-ju. Even Se-mi, who had been difficult to trust you, was on your mind.

Instead of confirming it, you asked, “Is that wrong?”

He stared at you with a conflicted expression. Something about this moment made him hesitate. It was as if there was something he didn’t want you to know.

“You can’t help much for the next game,” he finally said.

You blinked, caught off guard by his words. The statement confused you. Worry crept in as you thought about your friends, who were about to play the fifth game. If you couldn’t do anything, did that mean they were in serious danger? What kind of game was it that even a disguised manager couldn’t intervene?

You stared at him wide-eyed. “What’s the next game?”

In-ho looked at you like he had been expecting the question but dreaded it. He didn’t answer. His hesitation only fueled your curiosity.

“What is it?” you pressed softly.

He looked away, casting his gaze down. His jaw tightened as he seemed to struggle with himself. Finally, after a long pause, he admitted, “The next game is called ‘Why Did You Come to My House.’”

You frowned. You recognized that children’s game. It was a team-based competition where one side had to take over all the members of the other team to win. But something didn’t add up. How could a game like that lead to player eliminations?

A heavy silence settled between you. In-ho glanced at you, noticing your confusion. He quickly averted his gaze before speaking again, “The surviving players will be separated randomly into either the blue or red team.”

Without another word, he turned toward the door. You could tell there was more he wanted to explain, so you followed him. The next room was dimly lit, its centerpiece a mannequin dressed in a black suit with a golden animal mask covering its head.

In-ho stopped before the dressing table. He reached for a small bottle of men’s hair oil, pouring a little into his hands before combing his hair back neatly. The slicked-back style made his sharp features even more defined. As he worked, he continued his explanation.

“Before they are taken to the next game’s location, the players will queue in front of a giant gumball machine. Each player will take a turn and receive either a red or blue ball. They will be split into two teams, regardless of their X or O patch.”

In-ho set down the bottle of hair oil and glanced at you through the mirror. His expression remained unreadable, but there was an unease in the way he carefully adjusted his collar.

“How much do you know about Why Did You Come to My House?” In-ho asked.

“A lot,” you replied. “Players split into two teams. One person from each team plays rock-paper-scissors to decide who attacks first. The two teams then stand in parallel lines, holding hands. The game begins with the defending team moving forward singing the first line of the song while the attacking team steps back. Then the attackers step forward singing the second line. The defenders ask, ‘Which flower?’ and the attackers name a player to steal. That named player faces an opponent in rock-paper-scissors. If they lose, they move into the attacker's team. If they win, they stay. This continues until one team takes all the players.”

In-ho adjusted his hair, his fingers running through it as he gave a slight nod. “That’s right. But the rules are different this time.”

You swallowed hard. The way he said it sent a chill down your spine. “What’s changed?”

He turned to you, his expression sharp. “Players still form two teams, but now, each round, both teams pick one player to face off in rock-paper-scissors. The loser isn’t just switching teams anymore. They will be eliminated.”

Your breath caught. “Eliminated? As in…”

“Yes,” In-ho said. “They’re removed from the game entirely. The rounds continue until one team loses all its players. The survivors on the winning team move on.”

Silence settled between you. The game had transformed into something far more brutal. There would be no second chances, no coming back. Just win, or disappear.

The moment the words left In-ho’s mouth, a wave of emotions crashed over you. Shock paralyzed your body. Another simple childhood game turned into a merciless execution? Your stomach twisted as the reality of it set in. Your friends, the people you had fought to protect, would be forced into a game where their survival hinged on nothing more than a hand gesture. The thought made you feel sick.

But there must be some way to stop it. Some loophole, some hidden rule that could be exploited. But as you looked at In-ho’s face, the hardened gaze he wore like armor, you knew there was none. His silence only confirmed it.

You could imagine Jun-hee, her hands cradling her belly protectively as her soft eyes darted around. You thought of Gi-hun, his stubbornness keeping him upright even as fear gnawed at his resolve. Dae-ho, Jung-bae, Hyun-ju, Yong-sik, his mother. All of them, at the mercy of this game. A game where luck decided their fate.

Then came the sadness. A deep, suffocating grief at the thought of losing them. The bonds you had formed weren’t just for survival. They had become your family. And now, one by one, they would be taken from you. The worst part was knowing you could do nothing to stop it. You had never felt so powerless.

But beneath all that pain, another emotion burned hotter, stronger. Betrayal.

Your fists clenched, your nails digging into your palms as you turned to In-ho. The man who had sheltered you, who had given you a role that kept you safe, was the same man overseeing this massacre.

“How could you let this continue?” you demanded, your voice barely above a whisper, but laced with anger.

In-ho sighed before he looked away. “These are the rules. The games have to continue.”

“Not like this!” you snapped. “Not them! They don’t deserve this!”

He replied, his voice colder now, as he stared at himself in the mirror. “But the games go on regardless of what we think. Regardless of what I think.”

You took a step closer, forcing him to meet your glare through the mirror. “But you have the power to stop it.”

“It isn’t that easy,” he turned and looked back at you. “Do you think I own this room? That I started this place? Do you think I’m the only one pulling the strings?”

“You enforce it,” you shot back. “You make sure it happens. You wear that mask and pretend you don’t care, but you do. I know you do. I saw the way you cared about Jun-hee.”

For the first time, a flicker of something flashed across In-ho’s face. A crack in the carefully constructed armor he always wore. But it was gone in an instant.

“It doesn’t matter what I feel,” he said, his voice quiet. “This is not the first time a pregnant player participates. It won’t change anything.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs. “So you’ll just let them die?”

He exhaled slowly, his eyes dark with something unreadable. “That’s how this place works. That’s how it’s always worked everywhere.”

The words stung, but they weren’t enough to shake your fury. “And you’re okay with that?”

Silence.

That was all the answer you needed.

You took a step back, feeling the weight of the conversation settle on your shoulders. It was suffocating. You had thought, maybe foolishly, that In-ho still had some shred of humanity left. That beneath the mask and the cold exterior, there was a part of him that regretted all of this. Maybe there was. But it wasn’t enough.

“So…” you stared at him in disbelief and shock. “Gi-hun was right, after all. You saw us like horses. We’re just trashes to you.”

In-ho’s reaction was immediate. His eyes widened slightly as if you had struck something deep within him. His usual unreadable expression faltered, the cracks in his composed mask growing more visible. He looked like he wanted to say something, but no words came. His lips parted, then pressed into a thin line, hesitation flickering across his face.

You glowered at him, the weight of everything suffocating. Without another word, you spun on your heel and marched into the bedroom. Your heart pounded as you scanned the room, searching for something. The floor was clean, no discarded clothes or signs of disorder. Your gaze landed on his study desk. There, neatly folded on the chair, was your square guard’s hot pink jumpsuit.

You didn’t hesitate. You grabbed it and swiftly started putting it on. Your movements were sharp, fueled by a mix of adrenaline and anger. You slid your legs in first, then pulled the sleeves over your arms. As you zipped it up, the door behind you creaked open.

“What are you doing?” In-ho’s voice carried disbelief and frustration.

You didn’t turn around. “I’m going back out there.”

“You can’t,” he said, stepping further into the room. “It’s too dangerous.”

You scoffed, adjusting the jumpsuit. “And it’s not dangerous for them? For Gi-hun, for Jun-hee, for the others? They don’t even have a choice, but I do. And I’m not staying here while they’re out there fighting for their lives.”

In-ho exhaled sharply. “The other guards will not stand by and let you ruin the games.”

Finally, you turned to face him. His hair was neatly slicked back. His expression was a storm of conflicting emotions. Anger, concern, something else buried beneath it all.

You asked pointedly, “But will they shoot me once they know who I am?”

He stayed silent, his gloved hands balling into fists at his sides.

“That’s what I thought,” you muttered, brushing past him toward the door. But before you could reach it, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist.

“Stop,” he said, his voice lower now, almost desperate. “You think you can handle this by yourself? Do you think you can stop games that have been operating for more than thirty years so easily? Stopping this place wouldn’t stop this operation completely.”

You yanked your wrist free. “Maybe not. But at least I won’t be watching from the sidelines while my friends die.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes dark with frustration. “If you get exposed, it will be hard for me to cover you.”

“I don’t care.”

He exhaled deeply as if trying to steady himself. “No matter what you do, don’t do anything rash. I care about you, but if you—”

“Then help me save them, please,” you pleaded, cutting him off.

“Them?” In-ho’s eyes narrowed as he regarded you. “Do you mean you want to save all of them? Even the ones who only care about themselves? Even someone like player 100?”

You fell silent, momentarily caught off guard by his reaction. It was in that instant you realized his defenses were beginning to crack, exposing a glimpse of the deeply held beliefs he had tried so hard to mask. 

“I want to save whoever I can,” you said firmly.

In-ho scoffed, shaking his head. “That’s naive.”

He turned away for a moment as if trying to compose himself. Then, when he faced you again, his expression was steeled with something harsher. “Some of them deserve this.”

You frowned, unsure if you had heard him correctly. “Deserve what?”

“The games,” he stood rigidly as he observed your reaction, his voice taking on a colder edge. “You think everyone here is innocent? That they all got caught up in this unfairly? That’s not true. Some of them are here because of their own selfishness. Their greed. Their complete disregard for others."

He stepped closer, his gaze intense. “Do you know what player 100 did? He borrowed billions from desperate people, promising high returns, only to vanish with their savings. He destroyed families. And player 226? He pushed his own brother into ruin just to escape his own debt, but still it isn't enough for him. Tell me, do they deserve your sympathy?”

You hesitated.

“People like them,” he continued, his voice laced with conviction, “are the reason this world is broken. They climb over others, they exploit, they lie, and when they fall, they expect to be saved. Why should you risk yourself for them?”

You stayed quiet, giving him space to speak. You wanted to see what was hidden behind his guarded expressions, to understand his views and the way he managed these games. You had fallen for Oh Young-il, but you still needed to know more about Hwang In-ho. The man behind the mask. The enforcer of the rules.

A lump formed in your throat, but you swallowed it down, pushing forward.

“Then what about me?” you asked, your voice steady despite the unease in your chest. “Am I a trash in your eyes too?”

In-ho stiffened. His jaw clenched, his fingers curling into his palms. His breath came slower, heavier as if you had struck something deep within him. For a long moment, he didn’t respond, and the air between you felt heavier than ever.

Finally, he exhaled sharply, his gaze locking onto yours. “You’re different.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs.

“How so?” you asked, your voice softer now, wary of his answer.

In-ho’s gaze wavered just slightly. “You…"

Your breath caught in your throat. Your eyes widened, anticipation shimmering in them like a reflection of the truth you had been waiting to hear. It felt like the answer was right there, hanging in the air, waiting to be spoken. A confirmation of something unspoken yet deeply felt. It felt like this answer would determine everything – whether you could trust him, whether there was a future for the two of you at all.

But just as the moment reached its breaking point, a sharp, static crackle interrupted it. The radio inside In-ho’s coat pocket buzzed to life, and the distorted voice of the masked officer cut through the heavy silence.

“Captain, the VIPs have arrived.”

The words shattered the fragile space between you like glass meeting concrete. In-ho’s expression stiffened instantly, the vulnerability in his eyes vanishing behind a hardened mask. He reached into his coat, pulling out the radio, his grip tightening around it as if bracing himself.

He pressed the button and told through the radio, “Understood. I will be there.”

He put away the radio and turned to you. “They’re here earlier than expected. I have to go.”

The abrupt shift left you feeling unsteady as if the ground beneath your feet had tilted. The moment that had almost happened between you was gone, yanked away by the cruel reality of where you both stood.

In-ho walked back toward the door and said without looking back, “Stay here.”

You glared at his back, frustration boiling inside you. Like hell you were going to sit here while your friends fought for their lives. Without a second thought, you grabbed your manager mask from the table and followed him out into the hallway.

As you caught up, you saw him raise his Front Man mask and fit it over his face, the sharp angles making him look as unreadable as ever. You stood behind him and said with a firm tone, “There’s no way I’m standing aside and watching my friends die.”

He didn’t stop moving. Your voice remained low yet insistent as you added, “Is there something you can do? Anything? Can you let them live even if they get eliminated?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he turned around and kept walking. He exited the dressing room and into the hallway. You followed him like an aimless kitten. His silence dragged the tension between you to its breaking point.

You wanted to grab his arm, force him to stop, but something about the way he carried himself told you that he was already at war with whatever answer he would give.

Suddenly, he halted in the middle of the hallways. It’s as if he knew that you were following him and would not stop unless he gave a clear answer.

He let out a slow breath and spoke up, voice distorted and robotic behind that mask. “If I do that, it will go against everything I enforce in these games.”

You frowned, frustration simmering beneath your skin. You took a step closer until you stood right beside him. With his body still facing the door and yours facing him, you asked, “What exactly do you uphold in these games?”

He turned his head slightly, just enough so you could see the sharp lines of his mask in the dim light.

“Fairness,” he said. “Equality. Players and guards alike. The rules apply to everyone.”

You exhaled, the ache in your chest growing heavier. “But this is different. Their lives matter too. Couldn’t you change that? Just this once? Just for them only.”

You hesitated before continuing, your voice barely above a whisper as you counted your friends who were still playing. “Jun-hee, Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Dae-ho, Yong-sik and his mother, Hyun-ju, Se-mi, and also Myung-gi. Couldn’t you hide them if they get eliminated, and just let the O players finish the games.”

Silence stretched between you. In-ho stood still, his masked face tilted slightly downward as if staring at you. He didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He simply watched you, the stillness making your heart pound harder. Was he considering it? Was there a part of him that wanted to agree?

Seconds passed. Then a minute.

You held your breath, waiting for something. Anything. The soft hum of distant machinery filled the space, but all you could focus on was him. The way he was standing. The way his head was slightly bowed as if your words had reached a place within him that even he wasn’t sure existed anymore.

Then, finally, he inhaled slowly.

“If I do that,” he said at last, his voice low, careful, “I put everything at risk. Myself. The structure. The rules that keep this place from falling apart.”

You swallowed hard. “But what happens if you don’t? What happens when you watch them die, knowing you could’ve done something?”

A flicker of hesitation. You saw it in the way his posture shifted, in the way his fingers twitched ever so slightly at his sides. He had thought about this before. Maybe not about your friends specifically, but about something like this. About the cost of playing his role.

“I don’t have the luxury of questioning these things,” he finally muttered.

You stepped closer, your voice softer now, almost pleading. “Then why are you hesitating?”

He turned fully to face you now. “Because you’re asking me to break the rules. To compromise everything I’ve built to keep order.”

“And I’m asking you to remember that you’re human.”

Another silence stretched between you. You could feel it crackling in the air, the tension thick and suffocating. He was fighting something inside himself, something he didn’t want to admit.

For the first time since you had known him, he looked at you in long silence as if he wasn’t sure of himself. As if, just maybe, you had found the one crack in his armor that he had spent years trying to keep hidden.

And you wanted to put more cracks in his wall. Stepping closer, you tilted your head up, meeting his gaze with wide, unwavering eyes. The height difference made you appear smaller, but there was nothing fragile about the way you spoke. Your voice was soft, yet edged with something sharp.

“If you can’t do anything, then fine,” you said. “But if they die, I will hate you.”

In-ho remained silent. He took in the restrained fury burning behind your eyes, the way your body stood tense, ready to pounce like a mother cat protecting her own.

You exhaled slowly, steadying yourself. “Is this who you want to be? A man who lets people die because everyone is like a trash to him? A man who stands by and watches when he could’ve made a difference?”

Still, no answer. You shook your head.

“I refuse to believe you’ve lost every part of yourself,” you said. “The man I see now… the one who hesitates, who lingers on my words… he is not a machine. He is not just a mask. And I don’t think he wants to be.”

Silence stretched between you.

His posture remained rigid, but his breathing had changed. A fraction deeper. A fraction slower. Like something was unraveling inside him, thread by thread.

You sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to answer. You didn’t know if your words got through his wall – his mask. But you couldn’t linger here any longer. Your friends’ lives mattered more.

Reaching for your manager mask, you pulled it over your face, the smooth surface cool against your skin. Without another word, you turned and strode toward the elevator. You pressed the down button, and almost immediately, the doors slid open.

Stepping inside, you turned around just in time to see him still standing in the same spot, unmoving. He looked frozen in place as if caught between the choice of letting you go and calling you back.

Then, just as the elevator doors began to close, the radio in his coat crackled to life.

“Captain, the VIPs are looking for you,” came the masked officer’s distorted voice from the other end.

The last thing you saw before the doors shut was In-ho, his body stiffening at the summons. And then he was gone, swallowed by the mechanical whir of the elevator descending.

***

You were in a storage room somewhere within the game management facility. Your mask was off, clutched tightly in your hand. Sweat clung to your skin, making strands of hair stick to your face. You stared at the floor, lost in thought, your mind racing through everything you had just learned.

“So that’s the next game,” Gyeong-seok murmured, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

You had managed to find him and 011 among the sea of soldiers. 011, ever the cautious one, had led you both to this storage room, away from prying eyes.

You had told them everything you knew – or almost everything. You had carefully left out certain details: the true identity of the Front Man, his past as player 001, and most importantly, your involvement with him. Some things were too dangerous – and embarrassing for you – to reveal.

011, her own mask discarded on the table beside her, exhaled. Her dark hair clung to her skin just like yours as she said, “I’m surprised he told you that much.”

“Is there any loophole to save them?” you asked, voice tight with urgency. If anyone knew the inner workings of the games well enough to find an opening, it was her.

011’s gaze flickered, scanning your expression before she responded. “This game had been played twice throughout my years here. The way I see it... I think we can't do much.”

You and Gyeong-seok were stunned, the color draining from your faces as her words sank in. The latter straightened slightly from the wall and said, “Are you sure?”

She lowered her gaze, unable to meet his forlorn expression. With a heavy sigh, she said, “In this game, the soldiers shoot the players who lose rock, paper, scissors on the spot, just like in the Seven-Legged Hexathlon and the Open, Dongdaemun game. We can't change that. If some soldiers discreetly lead certain players to an isolated area for an out-of-sight elimination, it would raise too many questions.”

You lowered your gaze, staring at the floor, your mind racing for any possible way to save your friends. The more you thought about it, the more impossible it seemed. Every scenario ended the same way. With them being forced to play, with them losing, with them being gunned down in front of everyone.

Hopelessness settled into your bones. You felt so small, so powerless. It was suffocating. But you couldn’t accept it. There had to be a loophole somewhere. A flaw in the system. Something they hadn’t accounted for. You just had to find it.

Just as despair threatened to take over, 011 spoke up, “But there is a way…”

Your head snapped up, and Gyeong-seok turned sharply, both of you staring at her with wide, hopeful eyes. She hesitated, her gaze flickering between you both before she looked away. The weight of what she was about to say was clear in her hesitation.

“What is it?” Gyeong-seok asked in a hopeful tone.

011 let out a heavy sigh, crossing her arms. “There’s an underground cave that leads to the ocean below us. Dive packs and oxygen tanks are stored there already. If I can make it there, I’ll swim to the nearest island and find help.”

You blinked, trying to process what she had just said. “Wait… there’s a way off this place?”

She nodded. “Yes. But it’s not simple. While the access to get there is easy, CCTVs are everywhere. If I’m caught in the live feed, the masked officer or the Front Man will be alerted.”

Gyeong-seok narrowed his eyes. “That's risky.”

011 met his gaze, her expression firm. “It is. But there is another access to get there. It's in the kitchen. But workers are regularly passing that room.”

You perked up. “Workers?”

011 nodded to you. “Yes, workers. This is where you could divert their attention as a manager.”

You swallowed hard, the idea beginning to take shape in your mind. “How far is the swim?”

“Roughly two kilometers,” she answered. “It won’t be easy, but there are dive packs.”

Your stomach twisted at the thought of her out in open water, alone, with no guarantee she would make it. But what other option did you have? Staying meant watching your friends die one by one. Leaving meant at least trying to fight back.

Gyeong-seok stepped closer to 011, his voice firm. “I’ll come with you.”

011 seemed taken aback. “No. You stay here.”

“It is unsafe for you in the open ocean alone,” he insisted, locking eyes with her. “I will go with you.”

011 stared at him with quiet intensity, her hard gaze softening into doe-eyes for him. You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was an unspoken tension between them. While 011 had always kept her distance from both you and Gyeong-seok, it suddenly became clear. There was a reason she had chosen to save him in the first place. It was thanks to him that she saved you too.

Finally, 011 turned to you. “Will you be okay staying here alone?”

You nodded without hesitation. “Yes. You two just go ahead. I will do whatever I can to keep them safe.”

With that, the plan was set.

011 led you toward the kitchen, guiding you through the corridors like she knew them by heart. As she had said, workers swarmed the kitchen, moving in and out like a colony of ants. The scent of food filled the air, mingling with the tension thick in your chest.

You straightened your posture, adopting the authoritative presence of a manager. With short, clipped orders, you directed the circle guards away, telling them to fetch supplies elsewhere. They obeyed without a question. Soon, the kitchen was empty, save for you, 011, and Gyeong-seok, now in disguise.

011 wasted no time. She turned off the lights, plunging the room into a dim haze. You locked the doors behind you, ensuring no one would walk in unexpectedly. Then, she and Gyeong-seok pushed a massive freezer away from the wall, the heavy metal scraping against the tiled floor.

Behind it was a crawl-sized hole, just big enough for a person to slip through.

“This is it,” 011 said, turning to you. “Please wait for us. We will alert the authorities as fast as possible.”

You swallowed hard, nodding. “Be careful.”

She nodded wordlessly before slipping through the hole, Gyeong-seok following close behind. Under 011's guidance, he grabbed the chain tied to the back of the freezer and pulled it back into its original position.

You exhaled slowly, turning back toward the locked door. Now came the hardest part: waiting.

***

You had returned to the control room, hands moving over the monitor as you operated the live feeds. Only the masked officer stood supervising the room, overseeing the overall operation. As you worked, your gaze occasionally flicked to the dormitory’s feed.

The players had just woken up. Your eyes scanned for your friends, and soon, you noticed a gathering. A small crowd had formed around one bed in the X zone. Your stomach tightened.

Before you could observe longer, the elevator chimed. The sound made your shoulders stiffen. You turned slightly, just enough to see the doors slide open, revealing Hwang In-ho clad in his full Front Man attire. His presence alone made the air in the control room heavier. He stepped out, surveying the space with his usual scrutiny. Instinctively, you looked away, forcing your attention back on the feeds, watching as pink guards moved through the halls.

You could feel his gaze lingering on you. It burned through your back, making every movement at your console feel heavy and scrutinized.

You couldn’t believe you had slept with him… multiple rounds. You had slept with the overseer of this whole operation. You pursed your lips to a thin line beneath your manager mask and mused, Gosh, you really are a whore.

“What’s the status on the players’ breakfast?” In-ho finally spoke in his deep, distorted voice behind that mask.

The masked officer, standing near the main monitors, turned toward him. “They are ready to be distributed.”

In-ho gave a curt nod. “And the next game’s preparations?”

“Everything is on schedule,” the masked officer responded. “We expect to begin at the designated time.”

Before In-ho could reply, static crackled through the masked officer’s radio. “Officer, we have a situation in the dormitory.”

Both the Front Man and the masked officer turned their attention to the monitors. You stole another glance at the live feed, your heart pounding faster. The cluster of players in the X zone had grown, figures moving frantically around the same bed.

“What is it?” the masked officer asked.

The guard on the other end hesitated for a moment before replying, “It appears a player is giving birth.”

Your breath caught. Your fingers froze over the console. Your eyes widened.

Jun-hee is giving birth.

SFW ver. : Chapter 18.1

NEXT : Chapter 19

PREV : Chapter 17.2

Story Masterlist

Thank you for the warm wishes, everyone! I am still a bit ill which is odd because a normal fever usually lasts for 3-4 days for me but now it still persists albeit very vaguely. But I've taken medicines and all so I will be fine. Please feel free to leave comments and feedback about my story, the characters, the "you", and practically anything! I love reading your comments, especially long ones! It motivates me a lot! What do you think about In-ho's flashback and P.O.V? Did I make him OOC? Is the length of that flashback good enough? Then, what about In-ho's care for you after your lovemaking? And that's not the end of it. What's your thoughts on you and him doing lovemaking again... multiple rounds? Did you expect that or was surprised? And what about your confrontation with him? He told you about the fifth game. Do you know where I got that Why Did You Come To My House game details from? And oh, what about 011 and Gyeong-seok going to the underground cave and leaving the place to find help? Do you think it will happen that way in the third season? Finally, what do you think about Jun-hee giving birth at this moment? Considering there have been signs and tells in the series that she was due, it is predicted that she would give birth in this place. I really want to know your reaction on this! Anyway, thank you very much for giving my story a chance. I love reading and re-reading all of your comments!

Leave a comment on the masterlist post to be added to the taglist.

[arcanarix]

sweeter uncertainty.

cw: cult leader!geto, oral (m! receiving), domestic stuff, yandere geto, non-sorcerer fem!reader

summary: Suguru Geto is an anomaly—an anomaly you haven’t quite figured out yet, and maybe never will.

wc: ~1.8K

Suguru Geto is an anomaly.

His justifications for his actions don’t line up, but perhaps it’s not meant to make sense for someone who’s come from a smaller world than his, from a smaller, simpler world where there is no room to ponder over such complexities.

Everything he ever does with you is to keep you in line, to keep you from acting out or to keep you from doing anything you might regret. When you try to put things into perspective, you want to believe that being in his care isn’t as bad as he could make it for you. Only you can’t go as far as to call any of what he does kind or generous–even if he insists that it is, because why is he sparing you, someone who goes against everything he’s working so hard to erase?

Suguru Geto is an anomaly. An amalgamation of complexities, conundrums, and a certain brand of casual cruelty that’s unique to him. You don’t know what about you has drawn him in like a moth to a flame before catching itself on fire, or perhaps like a bee to honey like it’s won the jackpot? Has he seen something in you worth harnessing, worth foraging? Or are you something to be kept to himself, to hoard selfishly from the rest of the world because he feels entitled to whatever you have to offer? You still haven’t figured it out. You don’t understand, and maybe you never will.

The warm glow of the evening sun leaks through the window of the bedroom, where you remain bare beneath the silk sheets, mindlessly flipping through one of the magazines tossed carelessly on Geto’s nightstand. One of those bogus Cosmopolitan magazines he’s caught Nanako reading on multiple occasions.

“She’s just too young for that stuff,” he mutters to you, “She should hang onto whatever youth she has left and not worry about attracting boys her age with their monkey brains.”

You can’t help but agree, but you also can’t blame Nanako for allowing her curiosity to get the best of her. She’s well around that stage in her teens, but Geto’s a young adoptive father and utterly mortified by the kind of language she spews and the kinds of questions she’s asked him upon reading such foul magazines.

You hear some shuffling behind the door, and your head snaps in its direction. The doorknob twists, and into the room he strides after a trying day with a lot of those idiot clients of his he liked to bitch and moan to you about. (You can’t care less, but you listen anyway, because what better things do you have to do around here other than being his pretty trophy?)

A smile graces his worn features. You have noticed his neglect of himself. Deep-seated eye bags that are so huge that you’re surprised no one’s ever commented on them. (No one ever dares.) Open, gaping pores on his otherwise flawless skin that often left you feeling envious. Dryness around the nose and cheeks. His skin is a little blotchy from some redness.

Heh. You almost want to pity the idiot, but you can’t find it in your heart to do so because he doesn’t deserve your grace.

“Didn’t miss me too much?” he teases as he slips into bed with you after kicking off his sandals and socks, and loosening his yukata, sighing as he rests his head on your lap.

Hardly at all, you sneer in your mind while swallowing the bitter feelings that threaten to bubble forth in your response. You hold your tongue. You know better than to show any insolence anymore. A part of you no longer desires to argue or to fight back when it’s a losing game for you each time.

Instead you rake your fingers through his silky black locks, admiring the shiny sleek finish in spite of his overall negligence. He comes here seeking respite from his responsibilities. You have no choice but to play his game; that’s fine. You have accepted that he is not as cruel as he could be with you, but that doesn’t mean it’s true kindness, true purity of his heart.

“Suguru,” you murmur in a silken, syrupy tone that nearly rivals his when he requests something impossible of you. “You look ill. Have you even been eating?”

“No,” he admits, breathing out through his nose. “I haven’t.”

“You should take better care of yourself, Suguru,” you sigh, but you are not here to chide him like he’s your child, except in this instance this is exactly what he wants–moments where he doesn’t have to lead or to parent or to be himself. Even absolute terrorists need to turn their brains off which you find difficult to wrap your head around. Your finger pads continue to scratch lightly along his scalp, lulling him into a period where he can disengage his defenses. Drop the mask. He really is not who he says he is, and he really is not what he’s built his entire foundation on, either, isn’t he?

You rest the palm of your hand against his cheek, and he leans into your touch, kissing the heel of your palm. You fight back a wince, cursing to yourself. This man, this man capable of so much atrocities, seems so vulnerable that you are almost in awe that no one has exploited this side to him. Then again, he secures his pride and ego so much that you doubt anyone else has ever seen this side to him except perhaps his twin girls.

And you doubt they even saw this side to him all that much.

“Do you want to join me in the shower?” you propose, brushing your thumb along his lips. He hums as he considers your offer, but you know he never outright refuses. He doesn’t seem like he has the energy to argue tonight, either, which is a rarity from someone like him.

“If you let me bathe you,” he negotiates as the corner of his lips twitch into a little half-hearted smirk. He’s trying to find his energy again. You kind of want to kick him while he’s still down but you know that won’t bode well in the future for you.

“Whatever you want,” you concede, and he reluctantly lifts himself up from your lap, removing the covers and scooping you into his arms. You yelp a bit, and he chuckles to himself as he carries you to the restroom.

He disrobes before hauling you into the shower with him once the water finishes preheating. Muscular arms cage you against the stone tile as desperate lips find yours, tongue rolling along your teeth. Your hands rest against his hips, balancing yourself.

Your kiss breaks but his tongue lingers entwining with yours before he drags it down the column of your neck, along your collarbone, between your breasts…

And his mouth latches onto one, wet muscle laving along your bud and your breath catches in your throat.

“Fuck,” you hiss, and he purrs in response. The hardness of his fat, veiny cock brushes against your stomach and you dig your knee into him, smirking when he’s caught off guard, sharply inhaling.

Your hand replaces the knee rubbing into the skin, fingertips scratching along his shaft the way you do his scalp with the same loving, close attention. Whatever sells the idea to him—you have surrendered, in a state of acceptance, sheer indifference to the man caving above you. He groans, eyebrows scrunching and you relish in this small moment where you do possess some power over him.

Because he does quiver beneath your touch, starves for your approval in spite of what he may say to your face.

“I adore you,” he murmurs between your breasts, peppering heated kisses along the skin, reverent, bewitched by you, and yes, he may have deluded himself into thinking every action of his is an act of devotion to you.

But you don’t, won’t, and can’t trust him.

Your hand grasps the base of his cock and his eyes nearly bulge as he chokes on a desperate gasp, resting his head between your breasts to ground himself. Steam from the water beating down your bodies begins to fog the space around the two of you, but now you kneel.

You let him believe whatever he desires. It has worked better for you this way. You kiss the tip of his cock, leaking, swollen and needy, like the rest of him and he growls, bony hand clutching onto the back of your skull as you inch some of his cock into the velvety walls of your mouth.

That’s a mistake. Because from above you hear him utter a feral snarl before jerking his hips so he can bully his cock deeper into your mouth, hitting your throat—

—you don’t get a chance to react, he doesn’t give you a chance to, when he’s fucking himself so deep in your mouth, and all of your groans are pacified by his girth.

You’re impressed you don’t slip or lose your balance, when he bucks into you a final time, holding your head in place as stringy streams of seed shoot down your throat.

You don’t need him to command you—you swallow all of his load, audibly, and he smirks down at you in approval, affection shining in deep indigo eyes. Your face is flushed, and he eases you off of his length, a line of spit still connecting your lips to the tip of his cock which you break with a swipe of your tongue. He cups your face as he helps you to your feet, thumbs brushing along your cheeks.

“My perfect girl,” he gushes, and you say nothing, as the water rushes down your bodies.

“What happened to bathing me?” you quip, eyes half mast. Geto laughs at that, reaching over your shoulder for your shampoo bottle.

“I haven’t forgotten,” he states as he begins to emulsify the formula between his hands before pampering you.

Once you get out of the shower, you massage lotion into his skin once you’ve both dried yourselves off, murmuring something about how he should take some time to restore himself before tossing himself so carelessly into work.

You swipe a bit of eye cream along his eye bags.

“It’d be wise to take better care of yourself, Suguru,” you state, pecking his lips. “It’s not a good look for a leader if he can’t show up at his best for his subjects.”

Chuckling, Geto brings your hands to his lips, pressing soft kisses along each of your knuckles.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he vows, “I love you, little dove.”

You, once again, say nothing, but he takes your silence as a response, pressing a kiss to your temple as you both slink back to bed.

Suguru Geto is an anomaly.

An anomaly you don’t care enough to compartmentalize and dissect in a thorough examination thinking you might crack something, because there is no true depth in him.

Only a kind of emptiness that he’s cursed to be burdened with, and he’s taken you along for the ride.

[jsooly]

idk why but i feel like reader was SO happy when tuk was born simply because someone was shorter than her

get my girl on stilts

ur so right anon 🙂‍↕️ this is so silly LMAO wait—

human!reader x sibling!sullys

the seven years before tuk came along, you swore you developed chronic neck pain from looking up at everyone all the time. jake was two inches shy of 9ft, neytiri following close behind, and even lo'ak, the youngest, was comfortably over 7ft.

it got to a point where you just didn't bother to look them in the eye anymore. not when they stood, anyway. sometime along the line, the kids started to crouch when they were around you. it started subtly. bending at the waist to match your eight. and you didn't think anything when they squatted around you—they did that all the time.

it was their rapid growth stage. they shot up from below you to being just over you, and suddenly they were acting as if they were as gigantic as your parents.

it clicked in your brain when you were out and about, taking a stroll through the forest and supervising your troublesome brothers and sister. you paused, propping your foot atop a rock to adjust the wraps around your feet.

they circled around you, bending at the knees in a squat while chatting among themselves. you paused, giving them suspicious looks before you began walking once more.

you stopped near a tree, shielding your eyes from the sun to get a better view of the foliage above. you remembered that you were low on fruits back home and—

you turned when you felt breathing over your shoulder. lo'ak was right behind you, neteyam and kiri just behind. they were low to the ground, a pattern you were just becoming aware of.

"...what are you doing." you said flatly.

"do you need a lift?" lo'ak offered his arms, nodding up to the tree as if it were a perfectly reasonable offer.

you scrunched your face, offense souring your expression like a lemon. "you're kidding me."

"i mean, it's a pretty tall tree." he mumbled, shrugging unconvincingly.

you let out a slow breath, flicking your gaze past him to neteyam and kiri. "and what about you?"

"we're standing here with you?" neteyam answered with a quizzical tone, thinking the answer was obvious.

"you're not standing. you duck down every time i stop walking. this better not be a prank."

"how else will you hear what we say from way up here?" lo'ak retorted, rising to his full height again.

you gave him an incredulous look, taking a pause in the conversation that set off danger bells in your siblings' heads.

"...because you have so much height on me." you said sarcastically.

the intent of your words flew over lo'aks head, missing the sarcasm completely. he smiled proudly, puffing out his chest. "yeah. yeah, i do."

"lo'ak, you're barely a foot taller than i am. i fear you are the last person that should be talking."

his ears shot up at the jab, pointing an accusatory finger in your face. "hey! i grew over the summer—"

"wanna go shoulder to shoulder?" you shot back.

his mouth hung open, his brain processing his response. he pulled back his finger. "no." he said slowly.

"don't stoop anymore," you instructed the obvious to them. when they all squatted around you, they looked like kids cornering a pet. "my ears work just fine." you glared at lo'ak.

"good, cuz that was getting tiring." kiri sighed when she finally pushed herself upright, her legs burning from the unintentional workout. neteyam stood up as well, stretching his arms over his head.

"unbelievable." you grumbled, rolling your eyes as you continued your trek through the forest.

—

all of this to say that you were really happy when tuk was born. she had at least a decade before she surpassed you and you intended to treasure every second of it.

you were more than happy to rub it in the other kids' faces when they suddenly complained that you spent an increasing amount of time with the newest addition to the family.

"it's not gonna last long." lo'ak grumbled beside you. you pushed him away playfully. wait until he finds out about the stilts humans regularly use.

[stinkysam]

Choi Subong “Thanos” - Fuck 388.

Warning : death mention

Genre : angst

Synopsis : “Thanos is in a relationship with the reader, but during the game they become very distant, the reader votes for X and moves to another group, maybe he even became close friends with Dae-Ho. How do you think Thanos would respond?” - anon

Reader : male (he/you)

A/N : bold is in English // pt.1 420.

Despite your choice, when everyone had voted, you walked back to your boyfriend, ready for him to annoy you for choosing X.

And it didn’t miss.

“I have no problem with you choosing X, we can still play the games together, you’re in my team forever, but why did you choose X ? Huh ?”

“So you’re not totally okay with it.” You pointed out.

“I am !”

“No you’re not, stop lying.” You said in a singsong voice, trying to not show your annoyance.

He sighed.

“You have debts, right ? That’s why you’re here. Does 20 million suffice you ? With another game you could have way more. Debt free and maybe even rich !”

You just hummed, no longer wanting to participate in the conversation.

“What would you do with 45.6 billion ?”

“Get away from you.” You replied without looking at him, searching for 388.

“Ah, don’t say that.” He moved his hand to pat your head but you dodged it. “Stop being so-”

“Being so what ?” You glared at him. “Mad about nearly dying because of someone I trust ?”

He looked at you silently before sighing.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t mean to push you.”

“I know.”

“I never-”

“I know.” You said a bit louder, hoping he’ll get the memo to leave you alone.

He pouted, upset, but didn’t bother you anymore.

Then, a group of circles came in with small boxes of food, asking you to get in line to get your portion.

Thanos was sitting next to you, mixing the yolk of his fried egg with his rice and slices of fish sausages. Namgyu and him were talking back and forth about MG Coin and the money he made them lose until you suddenly stood up and walked away.

“You’re not gonna eat it ?” He asked, taking the small box in his hand to point to your untouched egg. You didn’t reply.

He shrugged, separating the yolk from the white and adding it to his mixture.

On the other side of the room, 388 kept yelling “Ay !” each time 390 hit his arm. You wondered, amused, if they were doing okay, standing a bit to the side, waiting for them to be finished.

That’s when 001 noticed you.

“Can we help you ?” He asked, tilting his head, the group’s focus shifting to you.

“Huh…” You didn’t know what to say, caught off guard, before turning to 388. “I wanted to thank you for saving my life. Thank you so much !”

You were about to bow but 388 rushed to you, stopping you from properly thanking him.

“Ah, no need to bow, really. I just-” The tip of his fingers gently tapped your arm. “I just did what I had to do- Couldn’t stand there and let it happen…” He added with a light chuckle.

You wanted to argue back but 390 spoke before you.

“You saved him ?” He asked, pointing at you.

“Yeah, my boyfriend pushed me right before a red light. I tripped and he caught me. I wouldn’t be here without him.” You said, smiling at 388. “Thank you.”

“Your boyfriend ?” 390 repeated, surprise evident in his voice.

“Yes.” You replied without thinking, before realizing this place could be far from being a safe space.

Everyone stared at you as you smiled awkwardly.

“Are you two gonna be okay ?” 388 asked quietly after a moment of silence.

You looked over your shoulder, eyeing Thanos and Namgyu still talking.

“Yeah.” You frowned, an evident lie. “Everything’s fine.” You gave him two thumbs up. “Totally doesn’t wanna kill him a little bit.”

“He… pushed you ?” 456 slowly asked. “Voluntarily ?”

You nodded.

“Yeah. Well-” You sighed. “He didn’t know that was me.” You flashed them another awkward smile.

Silence.

“And you’re still calling him your boyfriend ?” 001 finally asked. Both curious and slightly impressed. People generally break up after a situation like this.

You nodded, giving him a shrug.

“I’m alive so… Mh.”

390 scoffed, turning around to look at Thanos as he whispered something about today’s youth.

“Can I stay with you, though ?” You asked, fidgeting with your fingers, smiling weakly. “Don’t really wanna hang with him at the moment. And he voted O, so… I know he’s gonna spend the rest of his time here pressuring me into voting O as well.”

001 and 388 looked down at their chests, and that’s when you noticed their blue patches.

“Well, I mean, like…” You cracked your knuckles, chuckling nervously.

“It’s okay.” Said 388. “We’re not gonna force you to vote O.” He laughed, patting your back. “Right ?”

“No.” Smiled 001, scooting to the side to give you a place to sit.

While you presented yourself to the group, thanking them for accepting to take you in, Thanos was scowling, quickly understanding you wanted to spend time away from him.

Though he knew you loved him and stubbornly kept showing him your affection despite everything, there was now a nagging thought that maybe you could get a change of heart because of 388. Just because he happened to save your life after one little mistake.

That asshole was acting like a prince in shining armor.

Then Namgyu pulled him out of his thoughts, wanting to pay MG Coin a courtesy visit. Thanos quickly hummed, gladly accepting anything that’d take his mind off of you and what happened. He stood up, following him.

“That crypto ruined my life too.” 333 replied to Namgyu. “That’s why I’m here, to make money.”

“That’s right.” Thanos said, facing him. “You better make a lot of money. Because of that damn coin I lost over 500 million won, the money I earned from busting my ass rapping.”

“I lost 300 million.” Added Namgyu.

“You better win the games and make loads of money to pay us back.”

“I get it. Can you go away now ? I’m trying to eat-” Myunggi replied frustrated as Namgyu took his food.

“You little shit, eating like a fucking pig.”

“Give it back.”

“No.”

Thanos took the small box from Namgyu’s hands.

“You want to eat this so badly ?” He asked, smiling. “Then Thanos will feed you.”

He grabbed a handful of rice before slapping it on Myunggi’s face as the man yelped, disgusted.

“Good, isn’t it ?” Thanos laughed before Myunggi threw himself on him, the two falling on the floor loudly as they cursed.

You and the group you were with quickly noticed them. You sighed, rubbing your forehead, too tired to want to deal with it. You closed your eyes, maybe if you ignored it, it would go away ?

“It’s good to be young. They still have the energy to do that.” You heard Daeho say.

“He might get really hurt. Someone should stop them.” Jungbae added.

“I know… me ?”

But right as he said that you felt someone stand up next to you. Youngil.

“Boys, what are you doing in the middle of mealtime ?” He asked. “No fights during mealtime. There are elders present. Mind your manners. And two against one ? Aren’t you embarrassed ?”

You listened as Thanos and Youngil spoke for a brief moment. Then you heard people gasp. You looked through your fingers, seeing Youngil holding Thanos by the throat, Namgyu on the floor holding his leg, visibly in pain.

Oh.

Thanos walked back to him after Youngil had released him, only to be punched in the chest and stomach before grabbing his arm and twisting it. You could hear it crack from where you were.

Oh fuck.

Youngil was now above your boyfriend, strangling him and ready to punch him again. You hated Thanos at the moment but you still didn’t want him to actually die.

“Oh my- God- Damn. Youngil !” You called, quickly standing up to rush to them, nearly tripping on your way down. Shit, shit, shit. “Please, excuse him.” You approached them, rubbing your hands in a begging manner as Thanos looked at you as if to tell you to fucking do something.

“I’m sorry.” He said weakly, struggling to speak as he patted the man’s wrist, looking back at him.

“Please, Youngil. He’s not in his right mind.” You pleaded, falling to your knees. You wanted to grab his hand to stop him but feared it would only make things worse.

“Please…” Thanos squeezed his eyes shut. Was it how he’s gonna die ? “Let me go...”

After a few long seconds, Youngil finally released him, slowly standing back up as people applauded him.

You let out a relieved sigh, Thanos coughing as you placed your hands on him to help him sit up.

“Thank you.” You said quietly, rubbing your boyfriend’s back. “It won’t happen again.”

Youngil gave you a look, visibly not understanding why you were with that manchild.

He walked away as you rested your forehead against Thanos’ shoulder.

“Fucking scared me.” You mumbled.

As Thanos recovered, you gently gave the back of his head a slap.

“Don’t do it again.” You said, helping him stand up. “Don’t want your stupid ass to die.”

Thanos said nothing, rubbing his throat as he looked at Youngil sitting back with 456.

Slowly everyone went back to what they were doing, minding their own business.

Namgyu sighed, head resting against the wall as he quietly cursed Youngil.

Thanos was chewing his cheeks, one hand rubbing where he had been punched, thinking.

“Why were you with them ?” He suddenly asked, pointing toward the group you previously were with.

“Because Daeho saved my life. And I didn’t wanna-”

“Daeho ? So you know his name ?”

You looked at him silently before replying.

“I went to thank him and we exchanged names.” You rolled your eyes. “It’s basic decency to know the name of the one you owe your life to, no ?”

He scoffed, leaning back against the wall.

“Are you jealous ?” You asked, looking at him.

“No.”

That was a lie. Your attention was on another person and he was not a fan of it.

“Good, then.” You replied with a nod, noticing your small bento-like box they had given you earlier. “Did you eat my egg yolk ?”

“I asked you but you didn't reply.” He shrugged.

You sighed slowly. Today really was a long and bad day.

Nighttime came and Namgyu climbed to his bed a few minutes before the lights were off. You stood up to do the same, but Thanos stopped you, grabbing your wrist.

“Where are you going ?”

“My bed.”

“No you’re not.” He replied, pulling on your arm. You sighed. It’s true you haven’t slept alone in a long time and got used to having him next to you. And it was evident Thanos felt the same. But you were still insanely mad at him. “Come on, I said I was sorry, I didn’t mean to push you.”

“I know, you’ve said it a thousand times already.”

“Because it’s true ! How many time will I have to-”

“If I accept to sleep with you will you shut up ?” You cut him off. He smiled, letting go of your wrist with a nod. “Then scoot the fuck away, these bed are small as shit.”

As the lights were off for what seemed a good while, you quietly turned around, facing your boyfriend. You thought he was already out, since he’s usually fast asleep.

He almost made you jump when you heard him whisper.

“Did you tell them I pushed you ?”

“Daeho’s team ? Yeah.”

“Why ?!” He whisper-yelled. “Are you really that mad to send someone after me ?”

“What ?” You said a bit too loudly before lowering your voice again. “Yes I’m that mad but no he didn’t go after you because of me. The topic came up because they wondered why I was thanking Daeho. You got your ass handed to you because of your own damn self. You really know how to piss people off.”

There was silence. You could tell Thanos was scowling.

“Are you gonna sleep now or piss me off ?” You asked.

“Why didn’t you try to stop your friend harder than that ? I could’ve died. It’s fine when I almost meet death but not when it’s you ?”

Enough.

“Fuck you.” You stood up, and walked away before climbing to your bed, ignoring Thanos calling you.

Morning came way too soon, music playing through the speakers as a voice announced the imminent start of the second game.

You all followed each other until you reached a large room, two colored circles on the ground as a voice welcomed you for the game.

“This game will be played in teams. Please divide into teams of five in the next ten minutes.” Said the voice before repeating itself.

You walked around, searching for people to team up with until you felt hands on your shoulders.

“Babe, you’re gonna team up with us, right ? Team Thanos. ” He asked, making you turn around. He had Namgyu and some other guy with them.

“Are you serious ?” You looked at him, unamused. “No.”

“Ah, come on, stop being so mad at me ! You’re not gonna find 4 people to play with you.”

“Fucking watch me, then.” You replied, walking away. You already knew who you could join. But when you found them, it seemed like you were too late.

There was a young girl with them, anxiously holding her belly. Daeho noticed you quickly.

“Ah, we’re sorry [Name]. I thought- we thought you were gonna team up with your boyfriend.” He said, looking at you with an apologetical face, visibly upset to see you still didn’t have a team.

“Oh. Yeah. Well.” You shrugged, unsure of what to reply. “It’s fine, not gonna fight her over it. I’ll find another team.” You said with a nod, already walking away.

“Good luck !” You heard him say, you smiled, giving him a thumbs up.

“You too !”

Now you were beginning to stress. You refused to play with Thanos and the team you could’ve been with had already found their fifth partner.

Thanos eyed you from time to time, wanting to make sure you’d find a team by the end of the 10 minutes.

“So are you accepting us or not ?” Asked 380.

He nodded, making a sign with his hands.

“Of course.”

Slowly, you managed to find yourself a team. Though you found it a little bit funny as you were in the same group as Myunggi.

“I’m sorry for his behavior.” You had told him, lowering your head. “Can’t promise he’ll be off your back.”

He scoffed. Of course, he already knew it.

You watched anxiously as the first two teams got called, and got their feet handcuffed together.

You swallowed thickly, eyeing the timer every ten seconds. They could make it. They could make it. They could make it.

They didn’t make it.

You grimaced as the 10 of them got shot, fearing for your life once more. You rubbed the X on your chest, trying to get some luck out of it and hoping that next time, more people would vote X and you’d go home.

The following teams succeeded together, reassuring you just a bit. This was possible. You sighed, grabbing the person’s arm next to you for a small celebration as he clapped and cheered for the winning teams.

Later came yours and Thanos’ turn, each team going at the start of the circle.

Though you knew it was possible to win, you were anxious. You didn’t know your team members except one, vaguely. You had to trust them and their ability in succeeding each game.

You tried to calm yourself, not wanting to stress about yours and Thanos’ life. He could make it, he seemed confident, or more accurately, not worried about it, not caring about what was at stake. You hoped this mindset would help him.

You focused on remembering how you played gonggi, trying to wake up your muscle memory.

You cracked your wrists and knuckles, focusing, relaxing. No one was here but you and your friends. No one would die.

You squatted down, sighing slowly to exhale all anxiety inducing thoughts.

Swiftly you threw the rocks, no longer breathing, too focused on them to do both.

“Breathe, idiot ! Do you want us to die ?!” Yelled Myunggi, noticing your red face as the five rocks rested on the back of your hand. You were so close, you couldn’t fail now.

“Shut up.” You replied, breathing shakily again.

You threw your hand up, the rocks flying in the air before quickly grabbing them all. You froze, not daring to look up at the masked man who made an O with his arms.

“Success.”

You nearly fell back in shock, your teammates stopping you from doing so by pulling you up to walk to the next game.

You blacked out while the man to your right played spinning top, your mind fuzzing like a static TV screen. It’s on your way down the corridors that you came back to your senses, Thanos talking your ears off about how cool his team was.

“Minsu was so good at gonggi, like-” He said, making whooshing sounds and moving his hand in the air as if he was playing the game right now. “And Namsu’s knee kept hitting mine like a metronome.” He added, laughing, his legs now shaking to imitate Namgyu.

“Huh ?”

“It was so fun, wasn’t it ?”

You didn’t reply. Fun wasn’t really how you had perceived it.

“What game did you play ?”

“Gonggi.”

“Ah !” He exclaimed as he hit your arm “I remember you used to play harder variants than the one we just did, right ? Must’ve been easy peasy.”

“Mh.”

“Are you still mad at me ? Is that why you’re being so dry ?”

You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose.

“Yes, I am still mad. But no, I’m dry because I don’t like being held at gunpoint.” You replied, feeling your anger build up again.

“What do I have to do to make you forgive me ?” He whined with a sigh.

“I don’t know !” You began to walk faster to put some distance between you two. “Maybe vote X that’ll help a bit ? Just an idea.”

“No way, I’m not leaving with only 20 million.”

“Then I guess you’re stuck with angry ol’ me.” You heard him groan. “Or we could still break up. You won’t have to worry about my forgiveness.” You added with a wry smile. Tired of constantly having to explain your anger.

He froze, shocked. You wanted to break up ? He panicked for a second, before rushing back to your side.

“What ?! No way ! You’re stuck with me ! My boyfriend !” He said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, scared you would actually act on your words.

You rolled your eyes, pushing him away before speeding again.

“Is it because of that guy ?!” He asked, speeding as well.

“Who ?”

“Daeho. Or whatever. You kept mentioning him.”

You turned around to look at him with a confused look.

“I only did when you asked me about him ? What the fuck are you on about ?”

“Because he saved your life !”

“Yeah, because you nearly ended it. Did you forget ?”

He said nothing, scowling, scratching the back of his neck.

“I told you I didn’t mean to.”

“And yet it happened.” You sighed. “I really think we should break up.” You added, walking away. “I’m tired.”

Thanos stared at you, unable to process what you just said. Break up ? With him ?

When you reached the lobby, you didn’t go straight to your bed like Thanos had thought you would, but instead went where 456 and his group were the day before. Waiting for them.

Time passed, leaving you time to think. Were you too harsh ? Should you have forgiven him ? Were you too resentful ? You still loved him but right now all you wanted was to be away from him. Put more space between you two than what the lobby allowed. And at the same time, you were glad he was still in the same room.

You heard the door open, Daeho and his team entering.

You smiled weakly at him, glad he had survived. You wouldn’t have to stay alone in a room full of already made up groups.

He sat next to you, sighing, exhausted.

“What did you play ?” You asked quietly as the others sat down as well.

“Gonggi.” He replied, wiggling his right hand.

“Oh, me too !” You both smiled, giggling together. “I’m glad you made it. I promise I’ll find a way to repay you when we get out of here.”

“Ah, no way.” He patted your back. “Just, sort things out with your boyfriend then maybe we’ll be even.”

“I uh, broke up with him.”

Daeho looked at you with a shocked expression, his smile dropping.

“Are you okay ?”

“Yeah.” You replied with a nervous laugh before looking down. You kinda felt sick.

Daeho rubbed your back, trying to comfort you, as Thanos watched with a sour face.

Fucking prick. Stealing his boyfriend.

He wanted to have a chat with him, but he was in 001’s team. He could definitely beat him up but not 001, but if that man came to die in a game, it’s on sight.

[cinemaocd]

I literally have a whole post in my drafts about voting for Nadar in 2000 (while in MN which still went for Gore) and how I went against the advice of many boomer leftist friends who had voted for Eugene McCarthy in 68 because Wallace was such a vile candidate.

So yeah I voted for Nadar and Bush won and I was really defensive about it for months because I felt like Gore was the compromise candidate, anti-labor, anti-free speech and wishy washy on social issues I cared about as well.

George W Bush was vile to me because he was the son of another president and that is awfully like us not being a democracy and being an autocracy and also he was dumb as a box of rocks and his dad was instrumental in so much of the fuckery of the Reagan years.

Then 9-11 happened and things got so much worse and so much of the mess we are in now, is because of how everything just turned into writing a blank check for the deep state and militarized police and the peace dividend we were supposed to get at the end of the Cold War was gone, and oh yeah Russia had fallen back into totalitarianism because we didn't fucking do anything to fix it.

The progress made in the Middle East under Clinton started falling apart as well because Bush started two wars there, backed by the far right religious freaks in America who want to bring about the end of the world by starting a holy war.

So after that I stopped voting third party. I started actually trying to attend the Democratic primary in my area and work to have the kind of party we wanted. Both parties are not the same but they face many of the same problems (namely big money and corporate interests flooding the election and eating away like a cancer at any progressive or democratic reforms.)

The Republican Party has been the party of Nixon rather than Lincoln since before I was born (cheating is fine, lying is expected, rat fuck your enemies, use the deep state to expand your powers) and the Bush family merely added the Dynastic element and the complete lack of integrity about separating your personal wealth from politics. (Bush family literally oil millioniares when we were putting troops on the ground to fight for oil). Bush II's VP was Dick Cheney who was literally one of Nixon's ratfuckers! Trump doesn't even have the integrity that either of the Bushes had and that is really fucking saying something. He is merely for sale to the highest bidder. The entire Republican party has either decamped or capitulated to him and the remaining core is so rotten with corporate money and the interest of foreign dictators that it's not even an American political party anymore. It's a den of thieves.

I have no patience for leftists that looked at Kamala Harris, the most progressive candidate put forward by a major party in my voting lifetime (since 1988 bitches) and thought, no I'll sit this one out or wasted their vote on a third party no-shot protest candidate.

I'm sure you had your reasons, but shit is about to get a lot worse. We'll be lucky if you have the chance to right this mistake in future to be honest...

Trump voters owe me financial compensation.

[loulou-land]

Let's Go Home

Day 8 of @bucktommyfluffebruary | surprise | 2,950 words | fluff and humor | ao3

Its finally done. Yay! Promising myself the next one won't be a long one 🙃

The scent of garlic and basil filled the kitchen as Buck stirred the simmering pasta sauce and glanced at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time. He was starting to worry. 

Tommy was supposed to have been home 40 mins ago. He knows LA traffic was terrible but usually, he’d at least get a text if he was running late. But his phone had been suspiciously silent this whole time.

Buck huffed, flipping the burner off and stepping back. Okay, no. He needed to check on Tommy. 

Just as he reached for his phone, the screen lit up. Tommy’s name and smiling photo filled the display. Relief flooded him, but it was quickly followed by worry as he picked up immediately. 

“Babe, where are you?” Buck asked, his frown deepening. 

A beat of silence. Then: “What do you mean, where am I? Where are you?”

Buck blinked. “Uh…at the house. Where you live?”

Another pause. And then a heavy sigh. “Fuck.” 

“Fuck?” Buck echoed, his concern shifting to confusion. 

“I—I forgot we were staying at the house tonight,” Tommy admitted, voice tinged with guilt. “I went to the loft.” 

Buck stared at the ceiling, dumbfounded. “You forgot?” 

“It’s been a long shift,” Tommy said, clearly frustrated with himself. “My brain is in a fog, and I just—automatically came here.” 

Buck exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “Tommy. That’s what the calendar’s for.” 

“I didn’t look at it,” Tommy muttered. “I swore we were staying at the loft tonight. Thought we talked about it.” 

Buck sighed, but softened. “Baby, that was like two shifts ago. But it’s fine, I’ll just pack up dinner and head there.” 

“What? No . Sweetheart, I’m already in my truck. I’m coming home” 

Buck clenched his jaw, pressing his lips together before finally sighing. “Alright. Just…be careful.” 

“I will,” Tommy said, his voice quieter now. “And—I’m sorry.” 

“Not your fault,” Buck reassured him, gentle now that he knew Tommy was safe. “It happens. Just get here in one piece, okay?” 

“Okay. Love you.” 

“Love you too,” Buck murmured before hanging up. 

He exhaled hard, shaking his head. He wasn't mad. Just amused. A little exasperated. But still, something about this whole mix-up made his chest feel tight. 

It was a reminder.

Of something they hadn't talked about in a while. 

Buck had promised to go at Tommy’s pace, and he meant it. He did. But sometimes, like tonight—he just… wanted . 

But the last time they’d had this conversation, it hadn’t ended well. 

Buck inhaled deeply, shoving the thought into a far-off, dusty corner of his mind. Right now, he had dinner to finish. And a man to welcome home.

—————————————————————

Tommy exhaled slowly, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as he drove. His mind was still stuck on the mix-up. 

He felt bad, even though he knew he hadn’t forgotten on purpose. Still, in a way, it meant they'd lost time together. Time he didn't want to waste. 

And, there was something about this entire situation that kept biting at the edges of Tommy’s thoughts. 

Evan had been waiting for him. 

Cooking for him. 

Evan had been waiting at home. 

Tommy tightened his grip on the wheel. 

That was it, wasn't it? 

For months now, the thought had lingered in the back of his mind. How much he wanted to come home to Evan—not just on the nights they decided to stay at the house. Not just in moments they planned in advance. He wanted it every day. Every night. He wanted the certainty of knowing that at the end of their shifts, of every long and exhausting day, they'd be coming home to each other. 

His chest tightened. Because for so long, that word— home —had never really belonged to him. Not in a way that mattered. But Evan? Evan had changed that. 

Tommy swallowed hard. So why was he dragging his feet?

It wasn’t fear. Not anymore. Not like before. 

He’d already lost Evan once because he hadn’t been ready. Because he let doubt and fear hold him back. But he was ready now.

Except…Evan didn’t know that. 

And if there was one thing Tommy knew for sure, it was that words weren’t enough. He needed to show him. 

His grip on the steering wheel loosened as the idea started forming, small and tentative at first, then quickly sparking into something bigger. 

Evan was usually the one who went for grand gestures. But this time? This time, Tommy wanted to be the one. 

Evan deserved to be wooed and wowed, to have something big and meaningful done for him. Tommy wanted to give him that. To give them that. 

A slow smile tugged at his lips as he pulled into the driveway. He reached for his phone, already composing a quick text. 

Time to get to work.

—————————————————————

It had been a couple of days since the mix-up, and Tommy was acting weird. 

Buck noticed it immediately. 

At first, it was little things—Tommy being unusually glued to his phone, giving vague answers when Buck casually asked what he was up to, staying in his garage for long periods of time. It wasn't enough to raise alarms, but enough to nag at him. 

And then the schedule thing happened. 

They were having breakfast, Buck still finishing up while Tommy took his empty plate to the sink. 

“So, since we’re both off this weekend, I was thinking we could go watch this new exhibit that just opened—” 

Tommy hesitated. 

“I might have to handle some stuff,” Tommy replied, a little too casually. 

Buck froze, fork pausing mid-air. Okay…

“What kind of stuff?”

“Just…stuff.” Tommy leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Buck’s head before heading to the bedroom to get dressed. 

Okay . Suspicious . 

Under normal circumstances, Buck might have let it go. ( Not Really ). But Tommy had already been acting differently—distracted, distant in a way Buck couldn't quite put his finger on. And now, he was being all shifty about the weekend. 

Yeah. Nope. Buck’s brain didn’t like that. 

His thoughts spiraled fast, latching onto the worst-case scenario before he could stop them.  

What if he realized he’s not ready for this— for us —anymore?

The thought hit him too fast to contain it. Too hard. And from there it just got worse. 

Shit, have I been too much lately? Maybe he wants space. 

Maybe he’s trying to figure out how to tell me. 

And suddenly, everything made sense. The distraction. The vague responses. The distance. The hesitation. 

Buck pushed his plate back, appetite gone. 

He wasn’t just going to sit here and wait for the other shoe to drop. If something was happening, he needed to know . 

He wasn’t getting blindsided again.

—————————————————————

Buck was not snooping.

Snooping was invasive. Wrong . He was just… investigating. Like a concerned boyfriend, who was definitely not snooping in Tommy’s garage, after he'd left for his shift. 

Buck had a couple of minutes before he had to leave for his own shift so he was determined to check things out quickly, hopefully get some peace of mind and figure out what was going on with Tommy.

He looked around the garage wondering what Tommy had been up to the past couple of days. There wasn't a car on the lift, so he hadn't been working on one. His eyes scanned the space before coming to rest on a stack of papers. 

"If he’s planning something, there’ll be clues there."

Buck shuffled through them, scanning receipts, random notes, and—wait. What was this ?

His eyes landed on a handwritten list:

Confirm rental: Starlight’s Cinema Double-check timing for Saturday night Send final slideshow edits, practice speech about memories

Slideshow? Memories ?

Buck’s stomach dropped . It wasn't their anniversary or anywhere close to a holiday. 

And a slideshow…with memories ? Reflection ? Was Tommy trying to soften the blow?

"Oh my God."

His chest clenched .

"He’s breaking up with me."

He didn’t even realize he had moved until he was already out the door, and rushing to the station.

—————————————————————

Buck paced the station's kitchen, arms crossed, eyes flicking toward the oven as the smell of warm chocolate wafted through the air. The chocolate chip cookies (Tommy’s favorite) were almost done, but he was too restless to wait. 

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Chimney said, voice flat. “You snooped in Tommy’s garage—”

“I investigated !”

“—and then found one list and decided that meant he was definitely breaking up with you?” Chimney finished, disbelief dripping from every word. 

“When you say it like that, it sounds crazy,” Buck winced, biting his lips as he turned to look at the cookies through the oven's tiny window. 

“That’s because it is crazy." Eddie called lazily from the couch, not even looking up from his phone. 

Buck turned, gesturing wildly. “Eddie, he’s acting weird. He forgot we were staying at the house that one night, and now he’s being all secretive, and—”

“Or,” Eddie cut in, finally glancing up, “maybe he’s planning something good and you just went straight to disaster mode?”

Buck faltered. “But—did he say something to you?" He asked, hopeful. 

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “No.”

Buck slumped, disappointed. 

“Whoa. What if it’s a proposal?" Chim interjected suddenly, eyes lighting up. 

Buck choked. “What—no.”

Chimney snorted. “You sound horrified.”

“I just—that’s not what this is!” Buck spluttered. 

“Well, neither is it a breakup, probably ,” Eddie countered, tone maddeningly calm. “Did you ask him what’s going on?”

“…No…I mean not like directly.” 

Eddie and Chim exchanged a look. 

“Right,” Eddie deadpanned. “Because why communicate when you can snoop through his stuff instead?”

Buck groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “Fine. I’ll talk to him.”

“Good.”

A pause.

“…After I see where he goes tomorrow.”

“BUCK!” 

The entire station yelled at him.

—————————————————————

 Tommy had been nervous for the past few days, but mostly, he was excited. Excited for the future, for Evan’s reaction to the surprise, for the moment he finally got to show him what he'd been working on, for the hopeful response. 

Still, a small part of him was nervous—apprehensive. Not about the decision, he was sure of that. But about this —showing Evan this side of himself. 

The romantic, over the top, cheesy side. 

They had promised to be honest though. To be themselves, fully. 

And he was sure Evan would never laugh at him, not over this. 

Okay, Tommy was definitely ready to show Evan his surprise. He’d hated being evasive and vague all week. He knew Evan had been worried about his behavior, could see it in the little ways Evan had been watching him more closely, the overly casual questions. But once he saw it, once he understood , it would hopefully have been worth it. 

…Of course, he really should've kept in mind who his boyfriend was.  

“Hey, uh…you know that guy?” John, his friend and the theatre manager, asked casually, nodding toward the street. 

Tommy turned, eyebrows furrowing—only to catch the figure of his boyfriend quickly dashing into an alley to avoid being seen. 

Tommy sighed, long-suffering and deeply exasperated. 

“That would be my Evan,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

John snorted. “Well, looks like the surprise isn't gonna be much of a surprise.”

Tommy shook his head. “I should have figured something like this would happen.” 

“Your boyfriend not good with surprises or something?”

“Something like that,” Tommy said dryly. 

John checked his watch. “Well, I can give you about twenty minutes before the next showing starts. Think that's enough time?” 

Tommy exhaled slowly, passing over the usb drive. “I'll make it work. Thanks.” 

“Screen 2,” John confirmed as he walked inside. 

Tommy took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself 

Then, with an air of long suffering resignation (and maybe just a little bit of fondness), he made his way toward the alley. 

Time to retrieve his ridiculous boyfriend. 

—————————————————————

“Shit, Shit, Shit.”

Buck whirled around, searching for an escape route, but the alley was a dead end. His heart pounded. 

Maybe he didn't see me , he thought, clinging to hope. 

Then—footsteps. 

He straightened up, wiping his palms on his jeans and trying to think. Think of something, anything to say before—

“Evan?”

Buck flinched. 

Slowly, he turned to find Tommy standing at the alley entrance, arms crossed, wearing the kind of expression that said r eally?  

“T—Tommy, hey.” Bucs voice cracked. He forced a smile. “What a coincidence.” 

Tommy raised an unimpressed eyebrow. Then hummed. “Mmm. Is it?”

Buck deflated. “Okay, fine. Sorry, I just—” He hesitated, biting his lip. Then, before he could stop himself—

“Are you breaking up with me?”  

Tommy’s expression instantly morphed into one of pure, baffled horror. “What?”

Buck swallowed hard, his voice smaller this time. “Are you…breaking up with me?” 

Tommys face softened in an instant. “Sweetheart, no .” 

He closed the distance between them, pulling Buck into a firm hug. Buck exhaled shakily, melting into him.

“Is that what you've been thinking?” Tommy asked, voice low and gentle. 

Buck nodded against his shoulder, gripping the back of Tommy’s jacket. 

Tommy sighed, pulling back just enough to cradle Buck’s face in his hands, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. “Evan, baby , no. That’s not it at all. I had a surprise for you. A good one. Or well…I hope it’s good.” 

Buck blinked, surprised to find Tommy looking nervous now. 

Buck instinctively covered Tommy’s hands with his own, squeezing gently. 

Tommy stopped talking and looked at him. 

“...Come with me? He asked softly. 

Buck briefly hesitated, the weight of his earlier fears still lingering in his chest. But curiosity was quickly overtaking it. 

Tommy smiled, lacing their fingers together.

—————————————————————

Buck followed Tommy inside, taking in the space. 

The small cinema was charming, with warm lighting and a cozy feel. It smelled faintly of buttered popcorn. 

They entered one of the screening rooms. It was completely empty—the massive screen already lit up with a paused presentation. 

It had pictures of them on the slide. 

Tommy? Buck asked, confused. 

Tommy exhaled, stepping forward. “So…the other night, with the house mix-up, I keep thinking. And I realized something.” He gulped. 

He sent a quick signal to the projector booth. 

The slideshow started. 

Buck’s breath cough as their life together so far, unfolded before him. 

Photos of them laughing. Cooking. Tangled together in bed on lazy Sunday mornings. Little candid moments—Evan’s concentrated frown when he worked on crossword puzzles, Tommy’s soft smile when he thought no one was looking. 

Interspersed were quotes—some dryly teasing, some sentimental. 

“Evan, I could watch you drool into my pillow for the rest of my life.” 

Then:  

“Turns out, home isn't a place at all.” 

Buck’s heart clenched. His throat tightened. 

His hand blindly reached for Tommy’s. 

Tommy squeezed back, firm and steady. 

Then the final slide appeared. 

A picture Buck knew instantly. 

The sun was setting, golden light spilling over everything, the house looking warm and inviting and the two of them, standing right in front of it. 

Buck, Chim and Eddie had been helping Tommy fix something on the roof that day. Buck had scrambled a quick dinner for them and he had just called them in for it.

And, Tommy had run straight to him, kissing him like he hadn't seen Buck in days. 

Eddie had snapped the picture at that exact moment.  

Buck remembered laughing into the kiss, the warmth of Tommy’s hands framing his face, the distant sound of Chim yelling, “Get a room!” 

The slide faded into darkness. 

Buck turned to Tommy, eyes shining, tears slipping down his face. 

Tommy inhaled sharply. “Oh, love .” He reached out, cupping Buck’s face, wiping the tears with his thumbs. 

“I’m okay,” Buck promised, voice wobbly. “I just—no one’s ever done something like this for me.” His breath hitched. “No one’s ever shown me…”

He trailed off, trying to hold himself together, to breathe through the overwhelming emotion in his chest. 

Tommy’s gaze softened, and he smiled, pressing their foreheads together. “Evan. Baby . You don't have to thank me. You deserve this. And so much more.” 

Tommy took a deep breath, hand slipping to Buck’s neck. 

“...Move in with me.” 

Buck’s breath caught. 

His heart stopped. 

“...Wh—what?” he whispered. 

Tommy smiled, warm and so sure. “You said it once—why be apart when we could be together? I wasn't ready then. But I am now.” His fingers traced lightly over Buck’s jaw, grounding him. “That slideshow? Every single one of those pictures, those memories—that's me telling you how happy I am. Every second I’m with you. And when I'm not?” His voice dropped, quiet but so certain. “I'm still thinking of you.” 

Buck broke. 

A small, broken noise escaped him, and he was nodding before he could even find the words.  

“Yes,” he whispered, voice hoarse. Then stronger—Brighter. “Yes.” 

Tommy’s lips parted, like he hadn't fully expected the answer, like it still surprised him. 

Buck laughed at the thought. God, what a pair we make.

And then, before Tommy could respond, Buck surged forward, crashing their mouths together in a kiss that was all yes . 

Tommy made a surprised noise but melted into it instantly, strong arms wrapping tight around Buck’s waist, holding him there, 

When they finally pulled apart, slightly breathless, they just stared at each other. 

Grinning. 

Giddy. 

In Love. 

Then Tommy snorted, shaking his head. “We definitely have to talk about the stalking thing, though.” 

Buck laughed, light and free. “Yeah, okay. Fair enough.” 

He leaned into Tommy’s warmth. 

“But first…”

He reached for Tommy’s hand, lacing their fingers together. 

“Let’s go home”

[loserlvrss]

｡ ｡ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐔𝐏 ( 이.𝐌𝐇 )─────엔시티

( 二月 ). ──your best friend fell asleep on you, and suddenly he wasn't your friend anymore 이민형 &fem!rea. ⟡ drabble, fluff warn. kiss wc : 807HUN ++( 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈 )

노트 mark, as promised <3

You don’t know how it happened, however you weren’t complaining. No, nothing of the sort even crossed your mind. 

All that was on your mind was how comfortable you felt despite the pins and needles in your hip. How warm you felt with arms wrapped around your waist. You could hear soft breaths taken against the silent air—your show lost on the ‘continue watching’ screen some time ago. 

You’d blinked yourself awake a couple of minutes ago, not even realizing that you’d actually fallen asleep. When you woke up, you didn’t even know what day it was anymore either, pushed into the worst brain fog. However, the dream you were having was all sunshine and rainbows, you almost regretted coming back to reality. Well, that was until you saw that your best friend, Mark, had also fallen victim to just resting his eyes. 

But then, reality hit, making your stomach drop. 

Your best friend had fallen asleep too, somehow ending up with his head pressed into your side and arms paralyzing. 

You bit your lip, feeling a little bad about reveling in such an intimate thing for friends to be doing. Of course you’d shared hugs and even held hands, Hell, it seemed he couldn’t be more than a couple inches from you sometimes, but that was always innocent. That was always because you were feeling uncomfortable, or anxious or something of the sort. 

There was never anything between the lines to read. 

Butterflies made you nauseous. You liked the feeling he instilled, but you hated that you shouldn’t actually be feeling it at all. 

Should you wake him up? You could pretend you hadn’t been staring at him for the past however long then. But, on the other hand, you could make it a thing. Afterall, It was an opportunity to make the feeling yours to hold—make him yours to hold. 

But No. No, you couldn’t. 

You were friends, nothing more and nothing less. There were never any shades of gray. No stolen glances or prolonged eye contact. There was no tension, no lingering touches or sense of fleeting time. There was nothing, and you didn’t know anymore if you could take it. 

People hadn’t even mistaken you for a couple before, and it hurt your pride a bit. 

Why couldn’t you swallow it down and ask? Too scared to lose what you already had? Circles and circles you’d been running, but not getting very far. All the destinations led back to one thing—one very, very special man. 

The man you loved. 

You groaned at the thought, head hitting the arm of the couch. And suddenly Mark was awake, very aware of the position you two were in. It was your movement of disappointment (in yourself) that stirred him, your breathing and heartbeat queuing him in. The soft plush that only a body had, making him get up faster than you thought humanly possible. 

“Oh my God,” He put his hands up like he was surrendering, “I’m sorry, I must’ve fallen asleep after you. I didn’t mean to,” 

You lifted your head through all the commotion, being met with the sight that made your heart pick up speed. He looked so adorable half-awake; hair messy, and features swollen. 

“I’m sorry.” He apologized again, “It just happened, like on an airplane when your head just—you know, drifts. You looked so peaceful, I guess I got jealous.” He tried to joke, an awkward laugh leaving his lips after the rant subsided. 

You’d sat up some time during when he was talking at you, “It’s fine,” You sighed, now regretting ruining the moment more than turning your good dream off like the show you hadn’t been comprehending. 

He was right, it was peaceful. 

Mark brought peace to your life, a sense of clarity during the worst storm you’d ever lived through. He was the rain that brought flowers, the rainbow that brought color. 

He was everything right in a left world. 

“Don’t apologize to me.” 

And just as quickly as he’d lifted from you, he was back in your space, this time soft lips against yours. Your eyes were wide when he pulled back, then his were too. 

His mouth was slightly parted, broken sounds leaving it without real substance. You assumed they’d be more apologies, so before he had the chance to gather his thoughts you leaned back in, closing the distance you thought you’d put between you two. 

Your hands found the side of his head, palms resting on his cheeks, pulling him as close as you could get. And, he didn’t protest. 

You couldn’t decide if maybe you hadn’t actually woken up, because if you were having a good dream before, then this was the best one. 

Your stomach was doing Olympic-level flips, gold medal acrobatics. But, at least, you could say the feeling was yours. 

© loserlvrss 2024 / 25. 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱.

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back to masterlist!

[freakbabyy]

soft universe - Eris Vanserra x Princess!Reader Chapter One

< prologue | chapter one | chapter two >

2.466k words

warnings: swearing, some mentions of neglect.

"This is Prythian/common tongue."

"This is Valhallian."

woohoo second part!!! thank you for the love on this so far, made my entire day so i HAD to update again today!!

-----

Story preview: Y/N Erling - youngest descendent to the King of Vallahan, not special, youngest of seven girls and four boys, and certainly not next in line to the throne. A kind soul, free-natured, always does what's asked. Content with spending the rest of her fae life taking care of her nieces and nephews while her elder siblings dealt with court dealings. That was until they drew up an agreement - her hand in exchange for their agreement to the treaty with Prythian. Enter Eris Vanserra - new high lord who did not want a wife, nor a mate. Can they work it out together - under pressure from a blood rite, a language barrier, a culture barrier, and Eris' unfortunate attempts at flirting.

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chapter one - hunger

Third Person

Y/N Erling was a lovely, ethereal, hardworking, loyal, and polite fae. However, she was also known as overly-gentle, meek, childish, capricious, and a pushover princess; something everyone had come to know her as. Vallahan was known to be aggressive, its people proud; something that wasn’t necessarily bad until they became greedy as well. Her parents, Gunjar and Sigurd, were just rulers – when they wanted to be - Y/N wasn't sure the same of their parenting.

After three children, they needn’t train their other children directly – and after seven children they barely acknowledged any after that. Her eldest siblings – twins – Helgi and Rolf, were born to take the throne, literally, Rolf born to take over the ruling position and Helgi born to be a diplomat. Next came Stellan who was born to be head of the kingsguard, never stopped training as a boy- even when he accidentally cut off his finger. The children after them were schooled, of course until they hit ten – and left Y/N, eleventh, to fend for herself – as much as you could in a castle in the side of a mountain. 

By the time Y/N was born, her eldest siblings were old enough to care for the younger ones – and by the time she became old enough to care for children, her siblings started families of their own. There was never a day without a babe in the castle in the mountain, and when asking her siblings for help – they were already grown enough to have their own jobs. It fell to Y/N to take over the role of nanny, abandoning her own goals and career paths for this, and she didn’t say no. Pushover, the citizens whispered. And they were right to an extent, at least Y/N believed them. 

When the time came for a treaty, and they couldn’t stall anymore, they thought to themselves, “What could we compromise, that we wouldn’t miss too dearly?”. Obviously, that was how we got to where we are now, Y/N Erling, standing in the grand hall alone. Suitcases packed, which was more of a singular large bag, handwoven it seemed with the utmost care. Waiting in the grand, cold, empty hall – all alone – for the only friend she has made that wasn’t a direct relative to her, before the resounding whoosh appeared. 

Y/N’s POV 

“Oh! Good morning, Princess!” The golden locks of The Morrigan bounced as she jumped, startled. “Are you ready? I’m sorry for my tardiness.” 

“Yes.” I cleared my throat, replying in my best Prythian. I nodded just to make sure the message was clear. Morrigan’s Valhalllian had gotten better – though her speech was formal still. “Ready.” 

“We can speak Valhallian if it makes you more comfortable, Y/N. I don’t mind,” The Morrigan slung my bag over her shoulders, and offered a hand for travel. 

“No,” I shook my head stubbornly, grasping her warm hand in mine, “No Vallahan there, The Morrigan” 

“Just Mor’s fine.” She smiled, “Have you said your goodbyes to your family? I don’t see anyone?” She motioned around, and I understood most of what she said, taking a minute to put it all together. 

“I goodbye.” I smiled in reassurance, before she grasped my hand tighter and winnowed us. 

The first thing I noticed other than the disorienting feeling, was that it smelled lovely wherever we were. When I opened my eyes, it was even more beautiful than I imagined as well. We were on a balcony of sorts overlooking the most beautiful city I had ever seen. It was big, bigger than any town I had seen before. I must have uttered a praise, as someone next to us cleared their throat. 

  “Thank you, and welcome, Princess.” The man greeted in perfect Valhallian, an even more formal dialect than Morrigan had. “I am the High Lord, Rhysand. This is my wife and High Lady, Feyre.” 

Training kicked in, and I immediately dropped to the ground, head to the stone floor and hands above my head, outstretched as far as I could. It was proper to address higher authority with a bow, and in front of me were proper heroes. Feyre Cursebreaker alone was enough to have me at the floor, and The High Lord of the Night Court at her side even more. 

“Oh!” I felt a pair of hands grasping my own, “Are you alright?” 

“It’s part of her culture,” The High Lord smiled a bit, bowing his own head to me, “It’s a sign of respect, you bow at someone of higher respect, the lower the more respect.”  

“She did the same for me, I thought she had fainted when we first met.” Morrigan spoke up, resting a hand on my shoulder. “And then again the next time she did it.” 

I was not expecting Rhysand to bent at the waist, dipping his head in my direction. I returned it, grateful for the respect – but not expecting it. I was even less prepared for the High Lady, Feyre Cursebreaker, dropping to the floor at my feet, hands outstretched and forehead to the ground. I scrambled to the ground when I had realized, too mortified to react at first. 

“No, not me, not for me!” I helped her up, and she smiled wide, showing her teeth. 

“Yes, for you! I respect you, even more for doing this – for all of us. For our futures.” She held my hands in her own delicate ones. I bowed my head to her at this, understanding most of what she had said, but knew she meant it at the emotion in her eyes. 

“Thank you.” I replied, peering behind them at the house, “Castle in Sky.” 

Morrigan laughed at that, grabbing my bag again, before opening the door to the side for us, 

“I keep telling Rhysand this is a castle, he always insists it isn’t.” I followed, taking in the large lounge area we had walked into. 

“Ah, are you up for company?” Rhysand questioned, hand on an adjoining door. 

“Yes,” I replied, watching Morrigan lounge on a red chair off to the side, Feyre doing the same opposite of her. 

“Then may I introduce my inner circle,” Rhysand opened the door, through it seemed to be a dining area, which held a good amount of people, each coming in a single file and lounging as the rest had. “Please introduce yourselves,” 

“Pleasure to meet you, Princess, I am the emissary of the Night Court, Lucien. We’ve met in a brief meeting before,” He was leaning against the window, as though he preferred the view over sitting. 

“Yes, eyeball!” I clasped my hand over my mouth, glowing red at how my filter had seemingly been left at home. “I am so sorry, my body!” I grew frustrated, not remembering the correct word to say. 

“We had just done her anatomy word lesson that day, when you stopped in to say hello.” Morrigan fixed for me, emphasizing the word anatomy. “She finally remembered the word for eyeball because she thought of you when you visited,” 

“Well, my honor for helping you learn.” He smiled, not mad at the implications clearly. He looked to who was sitting closest to him, a female with the same face as Feyre. 

“I am Nesta, and this is Elain. We are Feyre’s sisters.” She motioned to the girl opposite of her, Nesta in dark clothing, and Elain wearing a lovely dress. “I hear you have siblings, too.” 

“Ah, ten.” 

“TEN?” The male across the room spoke, with long hair, when he next spoke, he held up all his fingers, “As in?” 

“Ten, yes. Four boys, six girls. Older.” I listed them by the fingers on my hand, “Two - Helgi and Rolf, Stellan, Marcus, Two – Vidia and Viola, Cedric, Two – Agatha and Clare, Sybil, Beatriz, and then me.” 

“Two?” 

“Twins.” Morrigan answered the male again at his question, and I had noted that word in my mind for two, or the same? I'd have to ask later.

“Here I thought two sisters were a handful,” Nesta spoke, letting out a breath, “I’m never having that many kids.” 

“Well, I have no others that share my blood, and happy about it – more jewelry for me.” The female with a goblet had spoken up from beside the gowned sister, Elain, “Amren.”  

I fell to the ground again, at the name. My forehead sore from the quickness I had done it at, knocking my head against the wooden floors. 

“What happened?”  

“Amren, you killed her!” 

“All I did was look at her!” 

“Did she faint?” 

“She’s not dead, you idiot.” Morrigan grabbed my arms again, “We seriously have to work on this, or at least get you a helmet.” 

“It’s how her culture shows respect, the lower the bow the greater respect – usually to authority figures or in this case, powerful ones.” Rhysand explained, pouring more wine in his own glass, seated beside Feyre. 

“Interesting. Maybe we should implement this for all of Prythian, because I feel powerful.” Amren smirked, but before moving on, bowed back the tiniest bit, drinking from her goblet. 

“Well, you already know Feyre, Rhys and I, next!” Morrigan gestured to the remaining members, two males. The one who kept speaking earlier, and the one who has yet to speak. 

“Afraid I’m not as powerful as Amren here, but I might come a close second,” The long haired one grinned, putting his hand out towards me, and holding it. “General Cassian,” I stared at his hand, then back at him, to bow. 

“Ah, you shake it. It’s how we greet people here sometimes.” Cassian clarified, as I grasped the top of his fingers, and bringing his hand up and down, smiling more. “Uh, sure, good enough.”  

“Thank you for teaching me, Lord Cassian.” A sound of choking came from across the room, we all turned to Morrigan, dabbing wine from her shirt and mouth.

“Sorry, that was just the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.” 

Moving on, I turned to the last remaining male, finally noting that they held wings. Looking back and forth between the two, pointing at them, 

“Ah! Dark butterfly!” I turned to Morrigan, excitedly pointing, recognizing them from the book we had been working through, a children's one, but we had almost finished it. The rest were highly amused at my exclamation, the two-winged males standing, awestruck. 

“Yes, that’s... That’s right, but the proper word is ‘Bat’. Bat wings, if we were to be specific.” 

“Ah, bat.” I tested the word, finding it tickling the tip of my tongue at the syllables. “Nice to greet you.” 

“Thank you for that, truly, I’ll never forget to call Cassian that again. My name is Azriel. We’ve met as well.” 

“Yes, the tiny people.” I motioned to his feet, the dark mist already formed since his entrance. “Hello, tiny people.”  

“They say it back.” Azriel smirked a bit, the shadows seemingly liking this new person, who acknowledges them. 

“They talk?” Elain questioned, glancing around, everyone almost having the same reaction, curiosity. 

“They do, to shadowsingers-” Cassian cut his brother off, to his displeasure. 

“You’re a shadowsinger?” 

“No,”  

“Do you have a gift?” Amren wondered, I quickly took off my rings, and presented them to the silver eyed fae, on my knees to properly present it.

“Yes,” 

“No! Amren! Give those back- She means if you have powers.” Amren went to hand it back, though I pushed her hands away, refusing them back. She looked better with them anyway. 

“Ah, yes!” 

“What is it?” 

“Oh, no.” 

“So you don’t have a power?” 

“She does,” Morrigan glanced to Rhysand, apparently, she hadn’t told anyone as no one has removed the curious look from their faces. “She doesn’t know how to say what it is, and to be honest we aren’t sure how exactly it works, but she calls it Blóð.” 

“Bl-oof?”  

“Ah, Blóð!” I nodded, the pronunciation being correct and nodded at Feyre, who smiled back. 

“So, what we know – is that if her blood comes in contact with yours, she can utilize some of your power.” Morrigan motioned to Azriel, “Azriel showed up one time when I was in Vallahan, needing some stitches on his back, and I was with Y/N that day – she helped me stitch him up, and had a papercut earlier-” 

“The next thing I knew, was that my shadows were talking – but not to me.” Azriel finished, “It only lasted for about an hour, and then she said she couldn’t hear them anymore. But she still likes to talk to them.” 

“This is huge,” Amren spoke, “Who knows what she could really do? Does her family know?” 

“They think I have normal family power,” I tried to explain why, but didn’t know the complicated words yet, wishing I had a quill and paper. “I came in different from my siblings,” Both items I wished for appeared on the table in front of where I sat on the floor, “Oh, Magic!” 

I gladly took them, sketching out my family tree, leaving a lot of empty branches in between my siblings and I, and held it up for them to see, 

“My mother had seventeen babies, and only ten survived.” I pointed to the names, demonstrating to the other empty slots. 

“But you have ten siblings, so eleven survived?” Feyre pointed out, and I smiled, 

“No, ten survived. I was born and did not cry, I was uh, This color!” I pointed to Lucien’s tunic, a pale sad color, “But suddenly a wave went through the entire continent, and when it happened, I was crying. This shake made me live, after two hours of no heart.” 

“When did this happen? This shake? Wait a minute, how old are you?” Nesta had demanded, looking at Rhysand as if he were a cradle robber. 

“Ah, twenty-three years ago. The treaty talks began on my second birthday.” 

“Wait! But,” Nesta spoke again, eyes darting to her sisters and the High Lord, “That’s when-” 

“That’s when the cauldron came alive again, became whole. The cauldron brought you alive?” Feyre spoke, eyes set with something I couldn’t figure out. 

“I don’t know, I never learned.” I sat once more, besides Morrigan this time, who began explaining. She became a sort of expert on me the past month. 

“She was never taught like her siblings, things of the war picked up and they didn’t deem it necessary. Unless they didn’t want her to find out? I truly don’t know.” 

“My siblings always called me special, called me blessed – but different from everyone else.” I recalled Vidia, secretly my favorite sister and best friend who sometimes read me books. 

“Y/N, this isn’t normal, you’re cauldron born.” Rhysand spoke, calculating look in his eyes, “You’re made. Like Feyre, like Nesta and Elain.” 

“Oh twins!” I tried to incorporate my learning from today to the talk, but it was the last thing I remembered before the world turned black. 

-----

hehe sorry for that cliffhanger - but thank you for reading!

taglist:

@bxm-2121 @itsxchar6 @iambored24601 @sparksandstarss

[star-suh]

The Cabin in The Woods

Johnny Suh x Male Reader

an: this is a short one.

—

johnny and his boyfriend planned to go on vacation to one of those cozy cabins in the woods, where you would be surrounded by wildlife and plants and the sounds of nature that could help to calm down even the most stressed person, “this would be a relaxing weekend” yn says with joy. but this plan soon would be scrapped because johnny’s hornyness augmented when he saw his dear boyfriend in black shorts and a sleeveless white shirt, “let’s go for a swim” yn said while running towards the lake but johnny just stood there, sitting with his mouth open and looking over his black glasses, “the fuck” he murmured. like a deer in headlights johnny kept watching yn swimming, how that white shirt sticked to his wet body, is like the shirt became transparent by how much of yn’s skin could be seen through the fabric. johnny was flustered to say the least, his little friend down there slowly grew in size “why you have to be so hot yn” he exclaims, “fuck!!” he yells while running towards the lake too. he jumps on it and splashes everywhere including yn, “someone’s eager to swim” yn jokes but then he chokes on his words when johnny emerged from under the water, now the tables were turned, this time yn is the one being in awe at johnny’s figure seeing through that piece of fabric, his sexy chest and toned abs… damn, such a fine man.

the couple tried to brush the obvious sexual tension with some games like swimming races or who could last more under the water, in one of these rounds is when yn managed to see johnny’s thick meat bulging in between his laughs, this made him open the mouth and by consequence he drank some water causing him to choke and go quickly to the surface to cough it out “oh my…. what the fu-”. “are you okay?” johnny asked, worried by yn’s well being, “what happened?”, “i think i saw a monster down there” he replies, “don’t be dumb yn” johnny said a bit annoyed, “don’t joke with those things”. minutes passed since that incident and the atmosphere turned a bit awkward but the older couldn’t take it anymore swimming towards the floatie in where yn was resting, proceeding to steal a kiss from yn who opens his eyes in surprise “what-” he says confused but johnny didn’t let him process what just happened when his tongue was already deep in yn’s mouth. johnny’s kisses were always rough and messy, something that yn liked, how the other man moves his tongue inside in the right places, that would be enough for yn to cum.

things escalated quickly when johnny got yn off the floatie and started humping on his wet clothed ass, drawing little sobs from yn who was biting his lower lip, “come here” johnny uses his big hand to move yn’s head closer and kiss him again. his meat getting bigger and bigger down there, yn could swear that thing would rip the fabric of the shorts apart by how massive it was, “do you want it?” johnny asks lowly, yn nodded “yes sir”, “that’s what i thought” the taller one says happily.

they didn’t bother to discard all their clothes completely, johnny just took off the sleeveless shirt and yn just the shorts and underwear, “you went commando?” yn asked when he saw johnny pulling his dick out by one of the leg openings, “i like it better without underwear” he winked at his lover. yn was now folded in a mating press with johnny pummeling into him, his big balls slapping against yn’s ass. “tight as always” johnny whimpered while yn tried to not cum right away. johnny’s meat went up and down, slicked in their fluids and some spit. “sho deep…” a dumbfucked yn murmurs, in this position johnny easily managed to fuck yn’s prostate, abusing it to the point he just goes dumb. “cum for me ynnie, cum on my dick” johnny commands, stroking yn’s dick that after some rubbings spurted his spunk everywhere including johnny’s chin, he cleaned it with his thumb and licks it “sweet as always”.

johnny didn’t stop fucking yn in that position until he reached his orgasm, nutting inside, “that was wild” he admits while gasping for some air, “yeah” yn barely speaks, his chest heaving up and down rapidly, is like johnny fucked the air out of him. the older then kneels and starts moving his tongue up and down yn’s hole and then putting it inside, “johnny what the hell?” yn mewled, pushing johnny’s head deeper with his hand, “i just wanna eat some cream” he says with a sweaty face, his hair sticked to his forehead and the surroundings of his mouth and the tip of his nose smeared in a mix of saliva and nut, “you know how much i love to creampie you but sometimes i wonder how it would taste it, but know i know” his smile with that disheveled hair and fucked up face made yn came once again, “you’re quite the milk fountain” johnny sad while nuzzling yn’s balls with his nose, “god i fucking love you so much” he says and stands up to kiss yn, “i love you too” he responds. the couple spend the rest of the day sleeping with yn cockwarming johnny’s cock.

[lsunstreakerl]

i was thinking about in famiglia familia au Red Bull throwing Max a little homeschool graduation?

If Max sat UK school exams he'd get his results for the last week of F1 summer break, so maybe at the first race back there's a cake. Not too much fuss, just a little bit because they all watched him sit on planes and various lobbies/restaurants with flashcards and textbooks studying for months.

we have somehow ended up at 1.1k words again. blame max- for someone who doesn't talk, he sure has a lot of thoughts.

Max isn't sure what he's going to do with himself this season. The last few years- he's always had a textbook laying around, flash cards to work on or homework to do. He doesn't have that anymore.

It's weird to think of himself as a graduate. When he'd been karting, finishing school hadn't been an option.

GP was determined though, and he'd spent countless hours sitting at tables and hotel rooms with Max and his homework, finding him in the garage to check on him and make sure he's taking breaks.

It's paid off, and Max now has more of an education than he'd ever expected of himself- but it's not enough yet.

He wants to go further, wants to take university courses, work in the grease and oil and floor shaking bass of the garages. He always knew racing was going to be part of his life, and he might be tackling it from a different angle now than he'd expected, but- he's proud of himself.

He zips his suitcase shut. He and GP are on one of the final flights out, most of the team in Australia already.

Max is kind of dreading the weather- hot and dry, the kind of heat that makes him wear shorts and thin shirts, the heat that makes him wonder if he can get away with his own ice bath.

Disgustingly enough, it's one of GP's favorite races of the year. Max doesn't understand it.

Max hefts up his pack, waddling it down the stairs since he can't see his feet over the edge. Gianpiero is in the living room already, and their coffee table is full of all the things that he normally keeps in his work bag.

He must be taking inventory. Max sets his bag by the front door before making his way over, staring over GP's shoulder.

"Max, hey. You got all your things?"

Max nods, leaning down and tapping his finger next to the collection of foil packets on the table.

'You do not need to carry those around anymore'

Gianpiero frowns, defensively cupping them under his palm.

"Yes I do- what if you need them?"

Max gives him a flatly unimpressed face.

'I can carry my own'

"Max,"

Gianpiero gives him a soft smile, tucking the painkillers back into their section in the bag, the same spot they've had for years.

"It's okay for me to want to take care of you."

Max shifts on his feet. He knows that- GP has been saying it for several years now- but it's still hard sometimes.

GP pats him gently on the arm.

"Even if you don't need them- it's for my own peace of mind."

Well, Max can't exactly argue with that.

------

The flight to Australia is so mind-numbingly long that Max takes a nap pretty much every time. He says he won't this time while they're boarding.

He does.

Waking up to Gianpiero shaking his shoulder isn't uncommon, and it means they're probably going to start their descent soon. Max yawns so wide he cracks his jaw, lips twitching into a grin at the way GP winces.

"I still think we should say something to your doctor about that."

Max rolls his eyes.

'Reddit says it's fine'

"Right, because we're taking Reddit's word as law now."

Max can see it on Gianpiero's face the instant he realizes what Max is about sign, already scrunching up his nose.

"No- we don't need to-"

'Not what you said when we were cooking turkey last week'

Max and GP are fairly decent at cooking now, but occasionally things get... forgotten. In the oven. While it's on.

GP makes an exaggerated frown at him.

"I thought we swore each other to silence."

'I am always sworn to silence'

Max hides his face in his hand as he shakes with silent giggles, and Gianpiero's groan at the terrible joke can probably be heard a few aisles down.

------

GP is being suspicious.

Max isn't sure what could possibly be so interesting on his phone to captivate his attention the way it is, but somehow it's Max who's guiding them from the hotel to the paddock.

At least the fans aren't crazy yet.

Max narrowly drags GP out of the way of another pole before he pokes him in the shoulder, frowning.

He throws his hands up in the universal 'what the fuck, dude' gesture, and Gianpiero winces, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as he takes the lead again.

"Sorry about that Max- it was Christian."

Max lets it slide, but only this once.

------

There's a jazzy pop song playing from the garage, and it's not Nick's terrible 1990's dad rock, so it's probably Callum who has the garage speaker. Max doesn't mind- it's funny to see some of the older guys forget they're not supposed to like it. More than once he's caught Christian or Helmut bopping their heads, and GP's playlist at home would get him ridiculed at the garage for weeks if Max ever leaked it.

Weirdly, Gianpiero stays slightly behind him as Max pushes the door open, and-

"SURPRISE!"

It's multiple voices at once, and Mick is here too, and Max is confused for a moment until his eyes land on the cake on the table.

Congrats, Grad!

It's round, with navy frosting and white letters, a little fondant grad cap and diploma on the side.

Max blinks rapidly, and they really need to maintain this garage better if it's going to be so dusty-

This is for him.

He feels a hand rest gently on his shoulder, turns to see Christian and Adrian standing next to him.

"We're proud of you, Max. You've put a lot of work in- the whole garage can see it. Congratulations."

Max nods softly at Christian's words, and then Adrian is wrapping him in a side hug.

"I know it's hard, getting all your work done with the time zones and the races. I hope you know you did an incredible job anyways."

He has a point- more than once Max had woken up in a cold sweat, not because of a nightmare but because he wasn't sure if he'd missed a due date while on a flight.

There's been some very close calls. As well as many, many missed ones.

Some of the mechanics are surrounding him, and Max has a moment to realize that this is what family feels like.

He'd never thought he would be the kid getting a graduation party- never thought he'd graduate at all.

Gianpiero hugs him, squeezing gently as Max turns to hide his face in his shoulder. He's not going to cry about it. He's not.

GP leans his head down.

"I'm proud of you, Max."

He's crying about it.