you can call me an asshole, but... a pro gun nut telling someone he's debating to "prove me wrong" about gun rights and immediately getting shot in the neck, bleeding out, and dying...
synopsis :: isaac tries to stop his obsession over his sister’s best friend; he relentlessly pushes the thoughts and feelings she causes him aside. nothing seems to work, and she continues to dig deeper and deeper under his skin.
idea loosely based on tear you apart by she wants revenge ! word count :: 3.9k
warnings :: 18+ content, masturbation, oral (fem!receiving), slight choking, obsessive and possessive behavior, isaac putting his powers to use, he’s so obsessed he cums in his pants, whoever decided isaac would call his lover ‘dove’, i owe you my life.
notes :: this is literally 3.9k words on the dot. i hate the ending (i hate all of it) but i had to stop somewhere. i have plenty of requests to tend to, but yet again listening to my playlist this song came on and it felt so isaac. if he fell in love and became obsessed, he’d do anything for that person. i mean he gave up saving francoise because she asked him to save tyler. i couldn’t resist writing it. also thank you so much for 100 followers what ? 🖤
Francoise Night doesn’t have many friends.
People are either too scared of her, or pity her. She has a hatred for both. She’s not a monster, and she’s not a child. It’s hard for her to make connections because of this — what if the person’s intentions aren’t as pure as they seem?
But your friendship with her had surprisingly came easily. You were roommates, had classes together, sat side by side in most of them. Naturally you had duo-projects assigned. That’s where it all started.
Francoise guessed living with someone allows you a better glimpse at the real them. You never looked at her like she was a fragile thing in need of saving, you never looked at her like she was a horrid creature that would pluck your eyes out during the smallest fit of rage.
Eventually, and quite quickly, Francoise attached herself to you greatly. There was hardly a moment where you weren’t together. If you were in the library, she was sitting next to you silently. If you were eating lunch, she’d be sat next to you offering the parts of hers she hadn’t touched. And of course, back in your dorm she loved to talk to you. About various things.
How her Hyde side was handling that day, her deep desires for a Normie life. And Isaac noted every bit of it. Of course he did, he’s like his sister’s personal guardian angel and savior all in one. Nothing in her life gets past him, not when they both practically had to raise each other.
So he would follow you, watch you, all intently and judging. He needed to make sure you didn’t have ulterior motives with his sister like most of the students here. Isaac has always been precise in his calculations and research.
You noticed him as well, in other ways. Like when he would check on his sister during lunch or in between classes. You’d notice his unruly, curly hair, his pale skin, thin body, and height along with the expression of madness made him look sickly.
His watching over the years turned from protecting his sister into admiring you from afar. Becoming obsessed. No one truly sees him or his sister, no one gives them the time of day. But you do. Regardless of the fact you’re more his sister’s friend than his — because of his habit of keeping almost everyone at arms length — it caused him to latch on, obsess over you.
He began popping up more. This time you sat in the corner of the library. Your knees were pressed to your chest while you lost yourself in a book on Hyde lore. Another thing Isaac admired, you cared enough to learn about his sister.
The sound of a chair scraping against the floor causes you to look up from your book. He had sat down across from you. He doesn’t speak much, simply focusing on his studies. This has been happening since the beginning of your final year at Nevermore. Isaac will show up randomly, sit near you. Just you, silently, until it became a normal thing.
You continue staring over your book, his head is down and buried in his notebook. All you can really see is his messy curls and his slender pale fingers writing away about inventions and discoveries you could hardly imagine.
What you didn’t know? He’s come up with a plan, how to get you to become just as beautifully, sickeningly obsessed with him as he is with you.
It all had to start right. Slow, with you unaware of his ulterior motives. At first, he only showed up when Francoise was also with you. He’d hardly engage in conversation, just sit there and observe you. He would ask his sister about you, personal things. Not out of malice, in an attempt to learn, dissect, figure you out. She quickly realized you were becoming one of his obsessions.
He’d never admit this, though. In fact he hates to face it himself. Despite the amount of times he has been in his lab, mind drifting from his current research onto you. You’ll have to be the one to confess to him, even if he has to bend your feelings to his will.
He keeps a neutral expression, scribbling on pages and taking his time to respond to you. Like you’re something getting in the way of his research, as if he hadn’t chosen to sit here with you. But it’s nothing new to you coming from him.
Oddly enough it’s… quite nice. Maybe it’s the excuse to look at his hauntingly beautiful face while he works. Maybe it’s the comfortable silence, doing your own thing in each other’s presence. Something he wouldn’t do with just anyone. It made you feel special.
For a few minutes you let silence fill the space between you. That is, until curiosity kills the cat and you begin asking questions. What he’s working on, what it means, how close he is to getting the answer he wants. It makes his mechanical heart perhaps tick a bit quicker. Despite realizing you’re a curious, talkative person long ago, he isn’t used to others being truly fascinated, interested by his work.
He’d answer with practiced indifference, though you could see the little smirk fighting to claw its way onto his face. He wasn’t exactly stunned with how intelligent your questions were, but each time you asked him something it caused an even deeper infatuation to dig a hole inside him. He’d happily fall into it.
He can’t help but indiscreetly take in your features as you spoke. He’s known for being thorough in his experiments, so why wouldn’t he be thorough in studying you? You don’t understand what you’re doing to him, how badly he wants to risk all his composure just to grab you right here and kiss you until you forget to breathe.
But that’s when it hits, it always does eventually. While you’re asking him another question he gets hit with a wave of uncertainty. Realization hits, fear sets in. He shows none of it. But his head is swimming, feelings are uncertain. They could lead to weakness, hurt, loss of control.
Isaac Night doesn’t lose control.
He goes stoic, freezing in his seat before gathering his things and leaving without a word. You watch him with furrowed brows, your friend’s brother has always been a weird anomaly, but you thought you were making progress.
Isaac finds himself back in his lab, running a hand over his face. He’s had many interests that have faded, replaced by the next best use for his talents and wonderful mind. You’re going to be just like the rest of those lost obsessions. This infatuation will go away.
He sits down at his desk to busy himself with another project. Perhaps an invention. The thought has his mind traveling to you, what he could create for you.
He lets out a mix of a growl and a yell, slamming his fist down. He doesn’t understand this. He’s an intelligent man, but he can’t wrap his head around how something so simple and trivial as a girl, his sister’s friend, can send him down a spiral.
He doesn’t trust or obsess easily, but when he does, it’s strong. It’s unforgiving, it’s harsh, and it’s beautiful all at once. He’s fully willing to do anything for you. He hasn’t felt this way for anyone but his sister, though for you it’s different.
With you he can’t help but notice what you’re wearing every day. How it fits your body, what it shows off. How you did your hair, your hands when you talk. Your lips when you talk. Your natural kindness towards people, which he quickly realized isn’t a weakness of yours. He’s seen you do a complete turn-around on someone once they start belittling Francoise. Or even him.
He’ll tell you he doesn’t need saving, but the fact you would do it without question intrigued him.
He finds himself having moments like these. Where he’s sitting in his dark tower, candles and dinky lamps and the moon being the only things providing light in the space. And he closes his eyes, just for a moment, trying to push his feelings down.
Instead you keep popping into his head. First it’s just thoughts of you, how you’ve wormed yourself into his and Francoise’s lives. How simplistically kind you were to them. How your bare minimum treatment was so foreign to him he couldn’t help but get unhealthily attached even from afar.
How you smelled when he sat next to you. How you looked at him with so much interest just at him explaining how he adapts when he gets his heart wet, or his newest experiment with reanimating deceased animals. How your lips looked as you spoke.
How it would feel to grab you, feel every inch of you. Hold you impossibly close, pressed against him. And only him.
It’s almost like he can feel your skin against his. He’d rake his hands up and down your body, memorizing it like it’s the only thing he needs to study. The thought of being the one to touch you, to kiss every inch of you causes him to take in a sharp breath.
His breathing picks up just slightly when he feels his pants get tighter. He curses under his breath, at you, for what you do to him. You don’t even know the hold you have over him. It makes him angry, it makes him sick.
But still, he reaches under his waistband. Despite his anger and his desire for control, this isn’t lust. Not purely at least. It’s obsession, infatuation. Every pump of his hand has a meaning behind it. Wanting you, craving you. Wishing he could give you a peek inside his head, so you could see what he could do for you, to you.
He’d let you do what you wanted, he’d let you take control. That angers him even more. The need to be in control has been extremely present since he had to take his life into his own hands. He wants you all to himself, but that’s tonight. By tomorrow he’ll be over it. He refuses to let this obsession take over.
For the next few days you plague his mind. All of a sudden his inventions are centered around you, his eyes drift to you during classes you have together. It seems the world has it out for him, because the two of you always managed to find him. And his brain would short circuit. The way your hair framed your face, the way you looked at him. How your uniform pressed against your body. He didn’t know he could be envious of cloth until now.
He ignores it, buries it deep and focuses on anything but you. Nothing works, you’re not just some silly crush. You’re one of the only people to successfully win over his ticking heart. The only other being his sister, and this feeling he has for you isn’t the same he holds for her.
He wants to ravish you, study you, be at your beck and call. He wants to spend every waking moment with you, because if you’re the only person deemed worthy of his time, why should you ever be out of his sight?
He can’t help himself, he needs to face you, take what’s his. He finds himself writing the words ‘Iago Tower, Midnight” on a piece of paper. Your desk is a bit away from his in your shared class, but with a flick of his wrist it lands right in front of you.
You recognize his handwriting, it’s legible but scratchy. Like he can’t waste time writing but it somehow turns out stunning like everything else about him. You don’t reply, you don’t nod, you just look forward, stuffing the paper in your pocket.
He knew you’d show up, a small smirk finding a way on his face at the sound of the rickety elevator making its way up to his laboratory.
You’ve been here before, existing with him silently while the two of you worked. You, on more trivial things like homework. And him, his never-ending experiments driven by his rock solid god complex.
His head doesn’t lift, but you know he hears the click of your shoes against the rickety flooring.
“I got your note.” You announce, nearing the side of his desk. You lean against it, looking over your shoulder at his work. It’s blueprints drawings. Most likely of the next big Night invention waiting to grace Nevermore.
He doesn’t look up at you, he just simply hums in response. You can’t help but let out a small laugh, ever the mysterious man he was. It almost drove you crazy, in the best way.
You lean down a bit to be more level with his face, “Why did you want me here?”
With a practiced smirk he goes to look at you, freezing a bit at the sight before him. The way you were bent gave him a view right into the top of your shirt. His smirk falls and he takes in a sharp breath.
“Your presence helps me focus.” Your head tilts at his statement. It was stated so matter-of-factly, but it was so oddly intimate for Isaac. You turn your head away from him, nodding to cover up the heat blooming in your chest.
If he could tell his words affected you, which is probably the case, he didn’t show it. He simply went back to his work like you weren’t there. But any time you tried to move away, invisible hands kept you at the edge of his desk.
You looked down, seeing his hand lifted a bit, the one keeping you in place. And a burst of confidence had you placing your hand on top of it. His head tilts at the action, eyes darting to the simple contact.
“I like being here with you. When it’s just the two of us.”
You didn’t need to say anything else, the tone of your voice had his focus moving from your hand to your eyes. He leans back in his chair, looking over you with a stare that told you he was battling with himself internally.
Isaac keeps eye contact, still studying you. Less like a curious scientist and more like a predator to its prey. “You’re the only person I let up here with me.” His voice is softer, but still sharp. In the way it seems like he’s telling you things to get your reaction.
You swallow thickly before shaking your head with a little laugh. “I see you bring Francoise up here.”
“To run tests.” He answers smoothly, watching you turn your head again. His telekinetic grip on your body goes to your chin, moving your gaze back to him. “You’re the one I seek out for my own self-gratification.”
He stands swiftly, stepping in front of you. His hold on your face doesn’t waver, keeping you still in front of him. One of his hands grabs one of yours, holding it and rubbing the back of it with his thumb. He bends slightly, lifting your hand to his lips, eyes remaining on yours. He was pushing you, seeing how far he could go. Testing you even without his fancy equipment.
“And does me being here help you focus on your work? Or something else?” He smirks at that, you playing along. Of course you’re right, he couldn’t focus on a single thing with you around. Everything would just start pointing towards you.
His focus finally falls from your eyes to your nose, to your lips. Taking his time to look over every part of your face. As if he hasn’t studied every bit of you that he could a million times over already.
Then he leans in, still keeping your head in place, and presses his lips against yours. It’s gentle, soft, more of a peck than anything. You didn’t expect such a kiss from him, but it had your heart soaring.
Inside his head he was going crazy. His brain was screaming at him to kiss you like he was claiming you. It took everything in him not to. But then he lets your chin go, and you’re leaning in to kiss him again.
It’s as if all resolve snaps, feeling your lips again ignites a hunger in him. He could have managed with a small, fleeting taste. But you had to break him. All of a sudden one hand is on your waist, the other grabbing your hair. You let out a surprised noise into his mouth that he only swallows greedily.
This obsession, addiction, fuels possession. He leaves dark marks and bites along your neck and collarbone. The sound of his name slipping from your lips, it’s such a sweet sound to him.
That ever-so-present force of his presses your bodies together. You can feel the imprint of him pressing against your thigh, a whimper leaving you in response. His kisses trail down to your chest, hands reaching up your shirt to feel your skin.
He wants to learn every curve of your body, every touch that makes you let out those pretty noises. The ones only he’s allowed to cause and hear. His hands go up until they’re lifting your shirt off, your bra following.
He lays you down onto his desk, the bottom half of your body dangling. He positions himself between your legs, bending down to look over your bare torso. You feel him everywhere, and your mind buzzes with anticipation.
His hand slides up to your neck, admiring the claim he’s put on you. He wraps his fingers around your throat, experimentally squeezing as his eyes stay trained on your face. Your eyes flutter shut and a small whine leaves you, eliciting a satisfied hum from Isaac.
He leans down, lips pressed below your ear, “I want to fucking tear you apart, pretty dove.” You let out a small gasp that he cuts off with a kiss. It’s much harsher this time, less calculated, he’s losing his resolve. It’s all your fault.
You feel his hand squeeze occasionally, his free one going under your skirt. He grips your thigh, nails digging into the skin and ripping more noises out of you. You feel your patience thinning.
Your head falls back, your breathless voice calling out his name. He trails open-mouthed kisses down to your stomach, humming at you. “What is it, dove?” You spread your legs farther apart, hoping he’d get your silent plea. But the smirk on his face and his continuation of kisses tells you he needs you to say it.
You huff, hand going to his hair to force his head up. He looks confused, a bit surprised at the action. But the slight pain of your nails digging into his scalp and the grip you have is delicious. He’s surprised himself that he’s allowing it.
You lead his head between your legs, forcing him onto his knees. He could have stopped you, grabbed your hand, he could have even used his mind. But his need to please you, worship you, watch you lay there and writhe in pleasure he gives you.
It scratches that possessive itch better than anything.
So he indulges you, flipping your skirt up to reveal the pretty sight of you absolutely soaked. All because of him. His lips find your inner thigh, pressing kisses and nipping at the skin. He can’t help but smirk at the sight of your hips rutting into the air, and he’s pushing them down without lifting a finger.
Finally his kisses land where you need them, right against your clit through your panties. It feels gross and lewd and perfect all at the same time. It’s written all over your face, the shameful pleasure. He notices everything.
Teasingly slow, his fingers move your panties to the side. That invisible force pins your hips to the desk as his tongue gives a few little flicks. You whine at the tiniest bit of pleasure, but Isaac wants to take his time with you. Watch you unravel and fall apart beneath him.
The grip you have on his hair tightens and you’re forcing him further into your cunt. He just chuckles against you, the vibrations causing your legs to spasm around his head. He doesn’t speed up, giving the least amount of attention he can to your poor pussy.
As if he’s toying with you, experimenting with your body. Seeing how long you can take it. Hearing the noises he can pull out of you. How many times he can make you chant his name.
He brings one finger to your entrance, circling around it. He’s teasing, drawing it out. You attempt to buck your hips up, but they’re forced down even harder.
Finally he relents, tongue flattening and dragging all the way up before he looks up at you. He sucks on your clit, harsh, his attention zeroing in on the way your face scrunches and your breathing quickens into panting.
Isaac kept your shaky legs apart, gripping them so rough he left crescent-shaped marks. He would remove his mouth from you with an erotic, wet pop sound to kiss the imprints his nails left. His fingers sliding into you to make up for the loss of stimulation.
Your moans and whimpers of his name fill his lab, leading his head into those dark places again. Thinking of drawing those noises from you again, with added begging. Maybe from overstimulation, or maybe from providing you barely enough to keep you pleading for more.
His movements get messier the more lost in thought he gets. He can’t help but bite into the plush of your thigh, relishing in the small cry you let out. His slip of focus causes his unseen grip on you to falter, your hips grinding on his hand in an attempt to ride his fingers.
If he would secure you to his operating table, he wouldn’t need to focus on that at all.
“Isaac-” your voice trembles as you call his name. His eyes snap back to your face, watching it contort with every bit of pleasure he’s providing you.
“It’s fascinating watching you squirm.” His voice sounds crazed. The kind of tone you’d hear when he was dangerously close to succeeding in his scientific endeavors, and was teetering on the edge of obsessed-madness.
His tongue drags from the array of bites on your thigh all the way back to your folds. Voice dipping into something softer, “And how do you taste so good?” Isaac’s practically burying his face in your cunt to get more of your arousal. “You’re fucking addicting.”
It’s as if his words were all you needed to send you over the edge. He continued to lap at you through your orgasm, savoring every bit of you. If anything were to go to waste, what was this even for?
He kisses his way back up your body, head winding up in your neck. You feel his breath hot against your ear and his hips pressing into yours. You felt a wet spot of his pants pressed against you, gasping at the feeling.
Isaac simply chuckles in your ear, shame gone and obsession fully taking over. “Like I said dove, you’re addicting.”
if you’re like me and you only watch f1 for free, here are some free sites you can watch it live at:
sportshub.stream - this is my personal favorite
totalsportek.pro
sportsurge.club
thehomesport.net
weakstream.org
there are also free apps you can watch it in:
Live player
strym tv - you need a code to watch in this app so you just press the + sign on the upper left corner, choose “Import playlist from URL” and paste this url http: //movitv. pro just remove the spaces
all of these have ads and if you have access to VPN, you might want to use it but i’ve tried all these links and app last season and hadn’t gotten a virus.
i open tumblr. i close tumblr. i check discord. i open tumblr. i close tumblr. i open spotify. start a song. open youtube. pick video, ending song. video bad. i close youtube. i open tumblr
warnings: uh.. seungmin is asleep for part of it? lol needy reader, masturbation?, reader is called baby and pup. is that all?
word count: ~670 short wittle dwabble
an: i’ve had seungmin on the brain this morning. idek if this makes any sense. i just woke up and needed to get this out of me. here i go again posting smut in the early hours on a sunday. forgive me.
masterlist
you woke up slowly, the sun spilling in through the curtains, bathing the bed in bright light. coming to full consciousness, you were aware of your surroundings. you were both on your sides, facing each other. your arm was draped over his middle, your face in his chest. his arms, once firmly wrapped around you, were now loosely gripping you, his muscles weak with sleep. his chin rested on the top of your head and though you couldn’t see his face, you knew he was still sleeping by the soft snores that left him.
your legs were tangled together and as you listened to your body’s demands to move, you tried to stretch a little without waking him up. but as you stretched, you noticed how your most sensitive area rubbed against his thigh in the most delicious way. you were made aware of just how sensitive you were, how wet. you cautiously rolled your hips again, grinding on his thigh. it felt so good. you didn’t think it would take long for you to reach your peak and he had been working so hard lately, you didn’t want to wake him up. he needed his rest.
so as delicately as you could, you rubbed your bare pussy against his thigh. you found a rhythm that worked for you and you continuously rolled your hips. you closed your eyes and imagined him above you, ramming into you like he does. his hair falling into his eyes, your hands gripping at his strong arms for support.
you didn’t notice at first that his soft snores had stopped. you didn’t notice that he was waking up, and that he was smiling against your hair. he flexed his thigh muscle, pressing it harder against you as you continued to rub yourself against him.
“needy little pup..” he said, his voice thick with sleep. “humping my leg.”
your hips stuttered, embarrassed at being caught. you tried to pull away, to give him his space, but he held you tight.
“don’t stop. you weren’t finished.” his hand traveled to your hip, helping you grind against him. he held his thigh firmly against you, and now that he was awake, you didn’t need to hold back. you grabbed onto his chest and his arm, using them as leverage to help you grind your little pussy against him. you were moving as fast as you could, but still needing more.
“fuck- seungmin..” you moaned against his sternum. soft whines falling from your lips as you got closer and closer to your release. his thigh was wet now, your juices coating his skin, making it easier for you to slide yourself against him. your pussy fluttered, clamping around nothing, mad that it was empty.
“you gonna cum for me, pup?” his voice was gravely in your ear. “you already made such a mess.”
you were so close, your body betraying you and becoming tired. it was getting harder and harder to hump him the way you needed to. he gripped your hip, hard. and held his thigh in place as he helped you rock against him. “feels so good- fuck- i can’t-“ you babbled.
“cmon baby. cum on my thigh and i’ll put my cock in you, okay?” you groaned against him, your body shaking as you teetered on the edge of bliss. “dumb little puppy.. only knows how to hump.”
your nails dug into his skin and your legs clamped down around his thigh as you came. you coated his skin in your creamy release, your panting breath fanning against his nipple. “there you go, baby. good job.”
he gently untangled himself from you, pushing you onto your back. he hovered over you and placed a soft kiss against your lips. “good morning.” he chuckled.
you smiled as best you could in your fucked our state. “morning.”
he positioned himself in between your already sore legs, pushing them up toward your chest, his hard aching cock at your quivering entrance. “hold still and let me fuck you now, okay baby?”
♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡
♡ pls reblog if you liked it! it truly helps a lot and makes me smile :) ♡
I think I’m literally never gonna be sick of this masterpiece. I think watching it on a loop for eight hours could fix me. Dancing’s what clears my soul. Dancing’s what makes me whole.
I just love that this very video is an accumulation of thousands of years worth of art made by people who have never met each other. The concept of this video was so completely unfathomable to every single artist who made the sculptures and yet they’ve all put something toward the creation of it.
As a teacher: the big sharpener should have just made her laugh. It’s funny.
But the 70 sharpeners thing is where it gets a bit dicey because yes it was obviously the child joking and having a sharpener collection but on the other you have to think: Why does this child have so many blades on school property?? Obviously you can know the child won’t do anything awful but you don’t know what some other person might do if they get it or if administration that DONT know your child finds it
what nefarious thing is a child going to do with 70 intact sharpeners already at school? sneak into the bathroom where they hid a 2x4 and a tool box to build a macuahuitl?
SUMMARY: hwang in-ho x wife reader // you came to the island with your husband to help him out with the new games. as you took a moment for yourself, reading a book in your shared bed, a fist knocked on your door. the guard escorted you to the observation room, where in-ho was. the two of you drink bourbon and make out, not paying much attention to the games.
AUTHORS NOTE: hi! this is my first squid game oneshot, i hope u like it! i’m still working on arcane ones so dw im not abandoning the requests. i’ll most likely start taking requests for squid game characters as well. might make a part 2 if people like this. this is 1.7k words
WARNINGS: not proofread, blood, guns, murder (players sabotaging n pushing each other in red light green light), making out, drinking
the frontman sat on a plush, luxurious seat in his private, sound-proof room. a player who won the game three years ago had come back to compete, supposedly to avenge all the people he lost. outside the window, the players were engaging in their first game; red light, green light, the first game.
he hadn’t had much time for himself as he was constantly busy overlooking the games and creating new ones. it was as if his work was perpetual, as if he was meant to be the frontman for the rest of his life. he later considered settling down with you, the love of his life. but he couldn’t leave the games behind, it was part of his life, of course. he was extremely against giving the role of the frontman to anyone, as there was no one he would expect to run the games properly and orderly.
you knew about his feelings about the games, and how he wanted to quit but he was terrified of being caught. of you being caught. it wasn’t that you personally killed any of the players, no, but you knew who was running it, knew him like the back of your hand. that made you an accomplice, and he was scared for your life, he didn’t want you to become too wrapped up in his troubles.
that, of course, was quickly dismissed as soon as you became his spouse. when he told you about his job, and how he needed to leave for a business trip, you asked if you could come with him. he hesitated, and it took him days to decide if it was safe enough for you to spend around two years there, with him. he needed to create new games to entertain the VIPs, so he could use some help from his creative wife, and you had been begging to see what his job was like ever since you married.
so you assisted him in creating designs for the games and a new addition in between games, the possibility to leave the games and split the money. however, this would be the first game you would watch. you were nervous, not sure what to expect, but your husband had secretly hoped you’d be impressed by the first game, and hopefully the next ones as well.
the emptiness on the couch saddened him. he wondered why he felt so uncomfortable alone, in the room where he had idly watched the games he ran. it was too quiet. but he missed your touch, the sound of your breathing, your pulse, and your heartbeat.
he tapped his finger against the armrest before slightly grinning. he clicked and held down a button on a stand, marked with a small, white square. he commanded, “bring my wife to the observation room.” he then grinned once he gained a reply, knowing someone had gotten the message.
you, on the other hand, were reading a book in your bedroom, bored out of your mind, as you didn’t know where your husband was. suddenly, a fist knocked hard on your door, three times. must’ve been a guard, as in-ho normally just walks into the room, as you both shared it.
you tilted your head slightly to the right, staring at the door before you placed a bookmark in between two pages. you wondered what it could be about. nothing important was happening today, right?
once you placed your hand on the cold doorknob and twisted it, you saw a tall worker in a pink jumpsuit standing in front of you. the square guard stated, “the frontman asked me to escort you to the observation room.” and stood still, eerily waiting for you to respond.
you mumbled, “um, okay,” then hesitated, as you stepped into your heels, “do you know why he asked me to go there?” he began walking, and you followed after him, heels clicking with every step you took.
the guard shook his head and walked a short distance, until he arrived in front of a bland, pink door. you shook in anticipation, giddy to see your husband again. the guard knocked his fist on the door, then after a couple of seconds, opened it and held the door open for you.
you bowed your head as a thank you and shot him a gentle smile. he bowed back and closed the door, causing you to turn around. you quickly noticed the room was padded, most likely a soundproof room. two doors were lining the sides of the walls, leading to a larger space, where your husband was watching a doll place her hand on something. he sat on the left side of the double seat, next to a coffee stand. a bright chandelier hung above him, lighting up the room.
did he invite you so you could watch the first game together?
he felt your stare on him and smirked to himself. he asked, without turning around, “are you going to come up and sit down, honey? wouldn’t want your legs to hurt from standing for so long.” he smiled once he heard you shudder from feeling nervous. he always knew what you felt like, even if you didn’t know yourself.
you slowly traveled to the spot next to him, looking at him up and down, eyeing his all-black outfit. you sat next to him, thighs touching as you noticed his black mask to conceal his identity. two glasses sat next to one another on the coffee table, a subtle reminder that he was always thinking about you. a bottle of bourbon was placed on the table next to the glasses, which your husband began to pour into the small glasses. he handed you yours first and stared at you for a moment.
you crumbled under his intimidating gaze, rarely having the ability to know what he was feeling. you wiped your lip with your index, asking, “do— do i have something on my face?” your eyebrows furrowed in worry, not wanting to look bad in front of such a handsome man.
he mumbled, “no,” and continued to eye you up and down, as if he wanted to memorize every part of your body. glancing at your lips for a moment too long, he placed his hand on your thigh, caressing the skin uncovered by stockings. he couldn’t help but stare at your plump lips, wanting his on yours for eternity.
in-ho wouldn’t stop staring at your lips, but of course, you noticed. you tried to hold your grin back, heart pumping as his staring made you nervous. maybe catching him off guard would make him stop staring.
so you gently placed your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him into the kiss, eliciting a groan out of the man. even as you heard people talking from the game, he moved his hand down to your ass and placed both of his hands there, picking you up and placing you on his lap, not breaking away from the kiss.
you giggled into the kiss and cradled his face, rubbing your thumb on his cheek. the kiss was slow and passionate, as if both of you were trying to savor how the other felt in your hands, falling apart just for one another.
even as you heard an unfamiliar robot-like girl speaking, and the sounds of many footsteps running, you continued to move your lips against his. he ran his hand along your back, wishing he could feel you more through your soft fur coat. but you slowed your movements down, wanting to watch the game he had worked so hard on.
you slowly pulled away from him, causing him to needily chase your lips, wanting more. he gripped your thigh with want, you let out a small whimper, almost inaudible. as you rubbed his chest, he stared at your soft eyes, looking up at him as if he hung the stars and created the universe. he had never felt more loved than he had with you.
as soon as you sat back down on the couch, in-ho swiftly brought your legs up to his lap, gently taking your black heels off, wanting you to feel comfortable. he smiled at you after he gently placed them on the ground near the coffee table. his touch tickled your thighs, gently rubbing up and down as he watched the games from the window.
you suddenly heard a gunshot, making your eyes go wide as you tucked your knees more into yourself than him. he noticed the small movement and rubbed your calves, attempting to soothe you and your nerves. multiple guns fired, and people laid on the ground, blood pooling around their bodies, trying to run away from the doll.
in-ho clicked a remote, playing the song ‘fly me to the moon,’ which went with a model, containing toy singers that moved on beat. as the doll exclaimed, ‘green light!’ then ‘red light!’ no one dared to move a muscle. a player began to shout out commands, and the whole group quickly formed into lines at the next green light.
as the doll yelled, ‘red light!’ the leader of each line would halt first, and the last person in the line would stop last, however, the doll couldn’t detect their movements. it was a smart idea, you had to give them credit. your husband seemed displeased, however, as his hands halted, keeping his hands steady on your thighs. he sighed in frustration, but now it was time to soothe him. you grabbed his hand and held it, rubbing your thumb on the back of his hand. he glanced at you and his eyes spoke for him, he wanted to say thank you, but was too frustrated to speak.
gunshots began to fire, due to players pushing one another, sabotaging each other, as humans were greedy and always wanted more. their own life was important to them, but they didn’t seem to care about taking the life of another, as it wasn’t theirs.
but in-ho unexpectedly turned to you and stated, “i’m participating in the games this time.”
A temporary goodbye (Front Man / Hwang In-Ho x reader)
summary: The first game is about to begin, and the Front Man needs to talk to his right hand man - who happens to be a little more than that.
tags: secret relationship, established relationship, fem!reader in mind
note: I had this scene in my head and just had to write it.
You’re standing next to the Front Man in the control room in silence, patiently waiting for his orders as always. There’s a lot going on in your head, so it’s not a surprise that you find yourself stealing a glance at him more and more often, because he’s the reason why you’re a little distracted today. This is the first day of the games, and while normally it’s a routine task, this year things are different. Everyone can feel it, but very few know the reason.
“I’ll watch the first game in my room,” he suddenly announces, and before you could react, he walks away. You let out a sigh under your mask, disappointed that you can’t talk to him before he springs into action, but then he calls back, his voice cutting through the silence. “Bunny, with me.”
The mask luckily hides the wide grin that appears on your face upon hearing him say this. You were supposed to have a proper code name, but he decided that Bunny suited you more, which is why you began to use it, and he even got you a bronze rabbit mask that matched his own in style. As usual, you follow him without a question, passing by the staff members who are preparing for the first game.
In his private room, the Front Man sits in the armchair and pours himself a drink, and eventually he takes off his mask too, feeling comfortable and safe enough to let it go temporarily. You can feel your heart beating in your throat as you wait for him to show any sign that he remembers you’re there. Sometimes he gets so lost in his job that you have to remind him of your presence.
But not this time. Now he clears his throat and raises his hand to signal you to go closer. “Say it,” he orders, although his voice is gentle, as it is every time he talks to you.
Since you’re obedient enough, you pad closer and stop by his side, a small smile creeping on your lips when you look at him. Four years. You’ve been working together for four years, but he only took off his mask around you two years ago. This was his way of showing his trust, something you truly appreciated.
“Take off the mask, we’re alone.” He finally looks up at you, a faint smirk visible as he watches you follow his order. Once it’s placed on top of his, he sneaks an arm around your waist and pulls you into his lap. “So? What’s on your mind? I can see something’s bothering you.”
Letting out a long sigh, you wrap an arm around his shoulder and lean in to give him a tentative kiss. “Are you sure about this? Joining the game, I mean,” you clarify.
In-ho lets out a quiet, humorless laugh. “You know perfectly well why I’m doing that. But it’s okay, you don’t have to worry,” he assures you as he rests his hand on your thigh, his fingers digging into your skin to ground you. Because he knows you. He knows you’re spiraling, he knows you think something bad will happen, which always kicks your brain into overdrive.
“If you don’t get out in time, I’ll be stuck babysitting the VIPs,” you say with a pout.
“You’d be fine.” When you give him a sceptical look, he kisses you again, and he even moves his hand closer to your inner thigh. The moment a soft moan escapes your lips, though, he stops. “Since when do you doubt me?” he wonders, his eyes examining your face to see the reaction.
Shaking your head, you rest your forehead against his. “I don’t doubt you, I’m just… Look, I know you can protect yourself, and you thought of everything, but we don’t know what he’s planning. He’s a ticking time bomb in there,” you explain.
“Keep an eye on the team while I’m in the game. Everything’s supposed to go smoothly, but if something happens… take care of it.”
You nod without hesitation, after all, that’s why you’re here. That’s why you became his right hand man. What’s happening between you–the stolen moments, the shared life back home when you’re not busy preparing for the next games–is a secret you’re keeping to yourselves. You’re the only ones who should know about it, no one else. It’s personal, and if anyone knew about this connection, they could easily use it against him.
In the beginning, you tried to resist the pull, you tried to escape his gravitational field, but then In-ho made you understand that it was okay, that you could make this work. He would make sure you can make this work. By now, you’re sure he would go to great lengths to protect you, he would get rid of anyone who ever dared to even look at you the wrong way.
The moment is ruined when you hear the instructions of the first game, a sign that it has begun. You both turn to the screen to watch it, but his hand is still teasing you, even if it’s nothing more but a subconscious movement. The comfortable silence between you is based on the deep understanding of each other, but you’re a little startled when he speaks up, not bothering to look at you.
“I love you, Bunny, never forget that,” he says quietly, as if he was telling this to himself.
A warm smile crawls on your lips. “I love you too.”
when frontman joined the games, he thought it was solely to see gihun fail, but his intentions shifted when a certain player number 455 caught his attention…
──── 〇 △ □ ────
part one
after the first round of voting, half of the room was left speechless, how could majority have voted to stay? the games were inhumane and above the top, was the money worth it anymore?
you headed up back to your bed where you could see everything clearer. the ‘o’s cheering loudly while the ‘x’s stood still as the air hung heavily upon them. then, you saw the player that had caused the majority to overule the ‘x’s… player 001.
he was a tall middle aged man with astonishing features. his hair somehow still styled neatly on his head, leaving only a few strands out of place. his lips curled into a small smirk as he walked past the crowd and seemingly back towards the bunk beds.
you must have been staring for too long because 001 suddenly halted, causing you to lean further down to see what had caused him to stop in his tracks. suddenly, his head snapped up, looking right up at you with that same expression on his face.
‘shit’ you cursed as you threw yourself back onto the bed, back hitting the cold mattress within seconds.
suddenly, a face appeared at the side of your bed, causing you to let out a scream as your hands flew to your mouth, shufflig towards the other end of the bed.
“hi there.”
there he stood, right there at the other end of your bed. player 001’s brown eyes looked so innocently into your own, he now had a bigger, more geniune smile on his face as he waited for a reply.
“you scared me.” you breathed out, still not moving from the edge.
“i’m sorry i didn’t mean to. i noticed you were alone earlier, i hope you don’t mind if i join you since we’re both by ourselves in here.” 001 said with a calm and gentle voice.
“uh.. yeah-”
“i apologise if i’m being too pushy, i just thought a young, pretty girl like you being here alone could be risky. i wanted to make sure that you were alright.” he interrupted. “my name is young-il.”
he stretched out his hand towards you, waiting for your hand in to shake his.
“i’m y/n, nice to meet you.” you replied, still skeptical, but nevertheless you showed your appreciation with a handshake.
oh, right then and there. with your hand in his, the frontman in disguise was heating up. he craved so much more then merely your hand in his. he wanted to touch every part of you, leaving nothing that he had not savoured.
he was brought back into reality when you pulled your hand back, staring at him, waiting for the charismatic man to say yet another inviting sentence to draw you in more.
“i’m afraid i didn’t notice you during the first game.” young-il said.
you shifted on the bed, moving towards the headrest as you beckoned him to the empty space in front of you which he gladly complied.
“during red light, green light?” you asked and he nodded. “i was at the front, guess i didn’t want to take the risk of lagging behind.”
“you must have completed the game pretty fast then.” he stated.
“i had a few minutes left, i spent it trying to help those who were falling behind.” you shrugged.
there it was. that kindess, that compassion. it was exactly what he was looking for. right now he was the big bad wolf licking his lips as he sat watching his prey.
“you have a kind heart, y/n. how did a girl like you end up in this place?”
“just mixed around with the wrong people i guess, i plan to start a new when i get out of here.” you said, full of hope, making him grin.
the two of you spent the night talking, getting closer with every hour that passed. the more young-il talked to you, the more he felt the need to dive deeper, there was so much he wanted, no, needed to know about you. all he needed was time to earn your trust and he would have everything in his control. when you had fallen asleep, young-il checked the surroundings, ensuring that everyone was fast asleep before he walked up towards the masked guards.
“make sure every single one of you nutjobs get this message. whatever you do, do not hurt player 455. if i find a single scratch on her, i will kill you all myself. is that clear?” young-il whispered but was still somehow stern enough for the guards to be taken aback with fear.
things were starting to change with the frontman’s plan, but he could adapt to change right?
──── 〇 △ □ ────
part two
the next day you were awoken by the cheerful song being played on the speakers.
“good sleep? you dosed off halfway during our talk last night.” young-il, chuckled, sitting on the edge of your bed, extending his hand out for you to take.
“were you here all night? my god, you should’ve went back to your bed! you didn’t sleep?!” you scolded as you took his hand.
he let out a laugh and helped you onto your feet.
“it’s no worries, y/n, i wasn’t tired.”
“so you watched me like a creep while i slept?”
“i- y-yeah, no! i mean n-no-”
“i’m kidding.” you cut the poor man off, “thank you.”
“yeah, of course.” he replied. “c’mon, let’s see what game we’re playing today.”
“ladies and gentleman, please follow in an orderly fashion to your next game.”
as you and young-il followed the crowd into the colorful, long, windy staircase.
“what if the next game is difficult, young-il?” you asked, following behind as he kept you close even when walking.
“hey, it’s okay, nothing will happen to us. i’ll make sure of it.” he smiled, pausing in his steps momentarily for you to walk beside him.
──── 〇 △ □ ────
part three
when you entered the room, you realised it was much smaller than the room for ‘red light, green light’. this one however, had two large rainbow circles on the floor and 5 tables spaced equally around.
“this game will be played in groups of 5, the game will commence in 10 minutes.”
your eyes shot to young-il. before you could say anything, 3 men came up to you and young-il. “hey man, would you want to join our group?”
3 men stood behind young-il, player 390, player 388 and player 456.
“why not? me and y/n can-”
“oh… we were looking for a team of men.. i’m sorry but your friend can’t join us.” player 390 interrupted.
“no.” young-il said sternly. he wasted no time arguing and instead took your hand and walked away.
after searching for other groups that would take you both in, you realised it was useless. no one really wanted a girl in their group and you couldn’t blame them. you stopped and sighed, causing young-il to turn around.
“young-il, it’s useless. you should join them. i’ll find others, we don’t have time.” you sighed, beckoning him to leave before time ran out for the both of you.
“no. i can’t garuntee your safety that way.”
“you don’t have to. it’ll be fine i’ll see you when the game is over.”
“c’mon, y/n i-”
“miss?” a voice said from behind you. “we need one more person for our team, would you want to join us?”
it was a sweet old lady, behind her stood 2 girls, player 120 and player 095.
“mom did you find someone?” a man jogged towards the old woman. “oh great, okay just in time.”
“come dear, who says women can’t win this stupid game.” she grumbled, taking your hand and leading you towards her group.
“i’ll be fine.” you smiled, leaving young-il standing alone with worry in his eyes. with much hesistation, young-il let you go, joining the team of men without you.
“you, hey! come join us! let’s win this!” player 456 cheered, inviting young-il back into the group.
“time is up, please sit down in your groups… this is a six legged race where you will have to complete 5 mini games individually while being chained to each other. the games played will be ddakji, flying stone, gonggi, spinning top and jegi. please order yourself in which you will be playing the games in.”
a sense of unease set in in young-il. he searched the room to find you. even if he was worried, he couldn’t show it on the outside, it would be too risky for you and for him. he remained calm as he scanned the room for you, eyes eventually landing on your face from across the room.
──── 〇 △ □ ────
part four
“we’re lucky we have many girls in this team! which games are you familiar with?” the old lady asked, looking at you.
“oh i’m not really sure, why don’t you guys pick first?” you replied embarrassed, an awkward smile plastered on your face.
as the others discussed which game they were going to play you looked around, searching for young-il once more. when you finally spotted him at the far end, you gave him a small smile and a wave, seeing how he was already looking at you.
“so i’ll play ddakji, your son will play flying stone, ma’am you’ll play gongi, ms 455 will play spinning top and ms 120 you will play jengi. is that alright?” player 095 said, looking around for approval from the group.
when the game started, your team was the first. you took your place on the rainbow with your team, all equally as nervous as you were.
“hey we’re gonna be okay, we’ll win easily.” you said offering a smile to the team.
“yes! we can do it ladies! oh and you too son.” the old lady said.
a gunshot fired in the air, indicating the start of the game.
“hana dul! hana dul! hana dul! hana dul!” every grunted in synchronicity, moving rather quickly to the first station.
the other players were up on their feet, following around the circle as they cheered.
1. ddakji
player 095 closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
piak!
the sound of the paper slapping on the ground echoed through the room, she opened her eyes and looked down. it flipped.
“first try! let’s go!” player 120 cheered.
“pass”
“hana dul! hana dul! hana dul! hana dul!”
2. flying stone
“son, just imagine. that rock is the face of the dealer that screwed you over.” the old lady said to her son making the rest of you snicker.
“you son of a bitch! give me my money back!” the man yelled as he threw the rock. without even trying, he managed to hit the other rock down.
“pass”
“holy shit! you did it!” you exclaimed. “let’s go! quick!” you exclaimed practically jumping in place.
hana dul! hana dul! hana dul! hana dul!
3. gonggi
“come, come! sit down everyone, i need to concentrate.” the old lady said.
she picked up the first few pieces with ease, but couldn’t catch the last one causing her to start over.
that must have struck a nerve because every try after that was not a sucess.
“mom. you said you played gonggi with bullets in the korean war, you can do it.” her son said. “picture it as dad’s face-”
“you imbecile!” she yelled as she picked all the pieces up again, putting them down and picking them up once more with ease.
“pass”
4. spinning top
young-il cheered like the rest, maybe even more. he was holding his breath with every step you took. even as the frontman, he wasn’t sure why he was anxious for a player like you to win. it was very unlike him but he had to admit it felt good.
he watched as you coiled the rope around the spinning top. he could see your hands shaking as everyone’s eyes burned holes into you.
with two minutes left on the clock you trusted your instincts and drew your hand back, carefully flicking your wrist. the spinning top flew through the air, with a soft bang it landed on the ground, spinning perfectly.
“pass”
“she did it!” young-il shouted, causing a roar of cheers to erupt as your team moved towards the last and final game.
hana dul! hana dul! hana dul! hana dul!
5. jegi
“can everyone look away? i just need some concentration.” player 120 asked. everyone including your team turned to look away, even with the time left, you were shaking with fear. one wrong move and you could leave this game as easy as you came in.
everyone remained quiet as you listened for the sound of the shoe and jegi coming into contact.
“one.”
“two.”
“three.”
“four.”
“five.”
“oh! we did it! that was five!” the old woman shouted.
you looked up seeing the guard makinga circle up with his arms.
“pass”
“let’s go! let’s go!”
with that, your team was let go. relief overwhelmed you as you passed the finish line. as the guards unchained your legs, you turned to the crowd finding young-il easily.
you offered him a smile and a little wave, making him do the same.
──── 〇 △ □ ────
part five
when it was young-il’s turn his team took place at the start of the line.
“well, it’s a little sad that we don’t have an audience.” player 390 sighed.
“no, it’s good. we don’t have distractions.” player 388 replied.
throughout the game, there was one thing on young-il’s mind, getting back to you. he couldn’t wait for another of your late night conversations. the stupid smile you had when he cracked a horrible joke.
he knew that the game was designed so that there couldn’t be many mistakes made each round. when he joined it was merely for the thrill of it, also the fact that he wanted to see player 456 suffer. but now he knew he had to play the games thoroughly and right, he knew he had to do this to keep his promise to endure your safety.
──── 〇 △ □ ────
part six
you waited anxiously on your bed as more groups came in, but not young-il. it was nerve wrecking, with every group that came in, somehow the number of player became lesser. it was made clear that not everyone was made to pass.
a few minutes later, the metal door swung open again.
the final group walked in, player 456, player 388, player 390, another player you hadn’t seen before player 222 and young-il.
young-il didn’t waste any time, he jogged back to your bed, seeing your smile widen as he came close. before he had the chance to say anything, you pulled him into a hug, wrapping your hands around his neck tightly as he bent down onto your bed.
“oh my god, you did it! i was so scared, i-i was so worried-”
“hey, it’s okay. it’s okay, i was worried sick too.” he chuckled, taking a seat beside you on the bed.
“i thought the team didn’t want a girl? how did she manage to get in?” you asked, pointing to player 222 who was now with the rest, talking and laughing.
“she was heavily pregnant. we didn’t have a choice, i’m so sorry they didn’t take you in.” he apologised as you shook your head.
“it’s okay, i understand. don’t worry. i’m just glad you made it.” you said, leaning so close that you could feel his bodyheat.
“you know… when i was playing the spinningtop, i couldn’t for the life of me figure out how you did it in one try!”
“of course, an old man like you comparing yourself to me?” you gasped sarcastically, making him laugh.
“yea right, come on says the one who’s almost lying on me.”
you jerked back, you hadn’t even noticed.
“i’m so sorry, are you uncomfortable? i can mov-”
“hey, i’m playing around. come back, you can do whatever you want. i’m just a makeshift pillow for you.”
you sneered and laid your head on his shoulder, legs tangled together on the bed as you could feel the rhythm of his breathing match yours.
“thank you, young-il.” you whispered, your hand finding his, squeezing it to show your appreciation.
young-il looked down to your hand in his and raised it to his lips, giving it a gentle peck. “anytime, y/n.”
whethere he liked it or not, the game had hit a big obstacle. as the frontman he needed to balance between running the games and keeping it safe for you, and preventing player 456 from infiltrating.
even so, he knew the dangers of the next game. ‘mingle’ was one set out to kill, his plans were all falling apart. frontman realised that keeping you came with a cost, and it was one he was willing to pay.
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