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celestiamour · 1 month ago

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‧₊˚✧ ❛[ don't cry now ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by @buniisdiary & anonymous ˚₊ ⊹

ft. hwang in-ho (young il) x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ you allow the man whom you believe is a fellow player to comfort you during a meltdown, completely oblivious to his true identity and intentions┊3.7k words

setting: season 2, episode 6 contains: smut!! dom in-ho & sub reader┊yandere, age gap (reader is early 20s, in-ho is late 40s/early 50s), innocent/naive crybaby reader, canon-typical violence, fingering, unprotected piv, loss of virginity, breeding

➤ author's note: oh god this is one of my first squid game wips? i was watching horton hears a who while finishing this up, but i’m strangely proud of it

you were shaking so much, it’s a wonder how you were still walking up and down those brightly colored stairs without collapsing. the final round of mingle games was the closest you’ve ever been to death so far, and you swear you brushed against the skeletal arms of death with a glimpse of one of his bony hands outstretched under his dark garments, ready to take you for his own. you still aren’t sure if it was a malfunction or a miracle that one of the doors popped open to reveal an empty room to house you and the woman you were with mere milliseconds after the countdown ended and before the guards entered with their guns blazing, but you were still alive to see another day. whether or not you were grateful for it remained a lingering question when it just meant you had to wake up the next morning, go through these death games thinly masquerading as an easy way to pay back debt all over again, and watch more brains get splattered on the floors if they weren’t your own.

collapsing onto the bottom bunk, you wished for the lights to turn out already so that you could fall asleep and forget about this nightmare. once again, the room was empty with fewer bunks than last time. out of the corner of your eye, you could see the rapper with purple hair and his goon celebrating their survival, talking about playing “one more game.” three hundred to four hundred million won still wasn’t enough, they wanted more and they were willing to put their lives on the line for it.

you felt like you were going to be sick at the lack of humanity in the room. in just a few days, people were already wishing death upon others if it meant they could stay and earn more money. did none of them have loved ones they wished to see again? did none of them consider the families who would never even get to have a proper burial for the ones who died within these walls? did none of them care for anything other than the transparent piggy bank hanging from the ceiling, collecting more paper cash with every bullet fired in another person’s skull? you didn’t care what they did with their own lives, but you did care that their choices impacted everyone else who wanted to leave. you didn’t even care if it still wasn’t enough money to pay off all your debts, you’re willing to do any dirty deed to dig yourself out at the expense of your own dignity, all you wanted to do was go home.

tears started to drip down your waterline. you didn’t think you were ever going home at this rate. you didn’t think you were ever going to be in the comfort of your own bedroom again, ever going to play with your pet again, ever going to celebrate your birthday again, ever going to see the bright full moon alongside the twinkling stars again— the last sight you were ever going to see was a masked guard in hot pink wielding a rifle with the fatal shot ringing in your ears because you lost some stupid game you haven’t played since you were a kid, and it could happen as soon as tomorrow.

you thought of young-mi, who cried out yesterday that she wanted the games to end and that she wanted to go home as well. poor, sweet young-mi, who was pushed out of her path and couldn’t make it in time to save herself, now lies in a black coffin neatly wrapped with a pink bow instead of the bunk next to you like she usually did from the stress-induced exhaustion.

it was just too much for you, and you started sobbing uncontrollably at the loss. the shock from the initial bloodshed had worn off, and the suffocating weight of reality dawned upon you, knees against your chest as you curled up in the little ball with your eyes shut tight to escape the bright white fluorescent lights shining from all sides. it isn’t the first time you cried in here, but it’s certainly the biggest meltdown you've ever had in your life. young-mi would always comfort you and you would her, but now she’s gone and you’re going to suffer the same fate.

people started to stare and whisper at your behavior, acting like it was erratic when you didn’t think it even came close to representing how you felt. you were surprised you weren’t wailing and screaming like a banshee. the people who also had a red badge like you looked upon you with sympathetic looks and pity, but the people who proudly sported a blue badge were mostly judgmental like you weren’t grateful for this golden opportunity of cash or death.

“come on, pretty girl! don’t cry,” thanos called out, approaching you and trying to wrap an arm around you, “just one more game, we’ll have enough to pay off our debts with extra!” his tone was so cheerful, already able to envision himself drifting around on the street in an expensive car and partying in a new spacious mansion.

although he was trying to console you in his own… unique way, you promptly slapped him away, “i won’t even be alive to pay off my debts, you asshole! i’m going to get killed like everyone else has, and you could too! i don’t understand how you could be so normal about it all when people are dying for this money, do the drugs you take stop you from feeling basic emotions too?!”

he let go of you, staring blankly like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to laugh at how surprisingly observant you were or beat the shit out of you for yelling out his secret without thinking. being a pretty girl didn’t exempt you from his rage, even if he frequently acted like it would in an attempt to get on your good side or in your pants. the effects of the colorful pills from the mingle games still haven’t worn off, so this was either going to make him mellow enough to brush it off without any grudges at the insult or make him aggressive enough to start a fight.

“alright, i believe that’s enough,” a familiar voice of a third party interrupted the conversation, smooth and authoritative with expected compliance for his command. “she’s clearly upset, i don’t think you should bother her anymore.”

you looked up to see young-il next to you with an amiable smile on his face, surprised to see him coming to your rescue when you truthfully thought it would be hyun-ju, but your unexpected hero was more than welcome. you haven’t had too many interactions with him, primarily just existing in the same space as allies, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t secretly admire him from afar. he was so handsome despite his age and seemed to retain his empathy, unlike some others here, always caring and looking out for you as well as everyone else who needed a little extra attention like jun-hee and the elderly folk. every time you see him smile at you during these trying times, a little flame of hope for humanity sparkles within you.

thanos glared at him, recalling the humiliating beating both he and nam-gyu endured at his hands in front of everyone, and relented with his command. there’s something about that man that scared him enough to back off without a second thought, not just how he managed to kick his ass, there was something genuinely unnerving about him that no one else seemed to notice.

no one seems to notice the little glances he makes at the cameras and guards without fear. no one seems to notice how he always knows a little more than everyone else about these games. no one seems to notice that he sticks by the claimed previous winner as if he is trying to keep an eye on him. no one seems to notice how he studies you from afar in a predatory way, like how a starving wolf studies a lamb prancing about before devouring it.

no one pays attention because they have bigger things to worry about on their mind. they don’t think there’s anything special about him and that he’s just another player trying to pay off their crippling debts, but little do they know about the omnipresent power he holds over everything that happens on this god-forsaken island.

“are you okay? he didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“n-no, he didn’t…” god, you were a sight, shivering in fear, hastily trying to wipe away the tears falling from your puffy eyes .”’m sorry you had to see all that, sir,” you sniffled, embarrassed, seemingly fine with the idea of breaking down in front of everyone else, but not him, which he found so fucking adorable. “would it be okay if…” you hesitated for a moment, “would it be okay if you stayed here with me for a bit?”

your teams have somewhat merged since the last game, but you were still scared of thanos coming to bother or worse after you called him out on his little secret. even if the other tried to shoo him away, he had this inflated sense of ego where he thought he could do whatever he wanted without thinking about anyone else, so unless they were a guard or they physically picked a fight with him and he lost, he would continue to do as he pleased which would possibly include personally eliminating you from the games like he’s done to others before. the only person who has put him in his place is young-il, so it’s only natural that you would feel safest with him.

he would rather have you all to himself, but he doesn’t mind having you join his group where he could keep a closer eye on you between the discussions of the vote.

throughout the entire voting process, you were a nervous wreck. you wanted to go home so bad, but when the numbers added up to a tie, you broke down once again. there was still a glimmer of hope, but it fell out of your hands and shattered on the ground. jun-hee and dae-ho tried their best to comfort you, but it was difficult when they themselves were so uncertain about their futures as well.

“oh, don’t cry now,” young-il tutted, wrapping you in a hug and patting you on the back. “come on, i’ll take you to the bathroom to wash up.”

nodding with a sniffle, you accepted his hand graciously as he pulled you off the bed. you wish you were stronger, strong enough to try to talk the other players into voting x so that you could go home rather than just bawling your eyes out at everything, but instead, you were only blinking away your tears and keeping your eyes trained on the ground as you shuffled along.

you didn’t question why the guards allowed him to bring you into the restroom without giving him any nonsense like they always did. you didn’t see the look they exchanged, one of absolute authority and a hidden one of understanding. you didn’t know his true intentions, watching you intently in the mirror as you washed your face with the water flowing from the sink’s tap.

“i don’t know you do it,” you whispered, “i don’t know you stay so strong in a situation like this, i feel like i’m losing it with every passing second… i wish i could be more like you. i’m so useless.”

“no, don’t say nonsense like that,” he assured, rubbing soothing circles into your back as he pulled you in for a hug as you sobbed into his shoulder. “it’s thanks to people like you who remind me to have hope in humanity.”

it isn’t entirely false, you truly remind him of how beautiful humanity can be in a situation where sanity decays and reduces people to animals who think of nothing but their survival. you still remain thoughtful and innocent despite all that is going to destroy those virtues, and are so much stronger than you will ever realize.

it makes him think that you could handle someone like him, someone who is broken and intensely possessive with the desire to have you for himself. he thinks he has the right to be a bit selfish when it comes to you, and before you knew it, his lips had found their way pressed onto yours. he isn’t gentle, yet he’s clearly holding back, as if he wanted to consume you whole but didn’t want to scare you away.

although it wouldn’t matter if you were scared, you were already trapped.

you were frozen for a moment when he pulled away and let out a little disappointed sigh, “i’m sorry, that was inappropriate of me. i shouldn’t have—”

“no, it’s okay,” you blurted out.

it isn’t your first kiss, but it’s the first kiss that made you feel the spark you’ve only ever read about in romance novels before, like fireworks at midnight of the new year. were you crazy for finding it so comforting? have you lost all your shame for asking him if he could do it again?

he looked at you in slight disbelief, but was more than happy to follow your request. his hand came to the back of your head and pulled you closer to him, recapturing your lips with his. he was a bit rougher this time, his tongue darting out to request access and explore your mouth. you didn’t quite know what to do with yourself, just standing still like a life-sized doll, but he seemed more than content to take control over you as he lifted you up to seat you on the porcelain edge of the sink.

you’re everything he dreamed of and more, but he still wasn’t satisfied. he wanted more, and you could feel his desire poking through his tracksuit pants rubbing against your thigh as he pressed you against the wall. his lips lowered to your jaw, then to your neck, making your head spin with unfamiliar sensations. you knew what he wanted, you were naive, not outright stupid, but did you want it to?

“is this okay?”

you weren’t sure. were you really willing to give your first time to an older man you barely knew? in a setting like this? you always dreamed of your first time being romantic, with someone you trusted in the comfort of your bedroom instead of a near stranger in a dingy restroom, but with the way the past few days were going, you weren’t sure if you would be able to ever live out that fantasy and relented, “y-yeah, it’s okay…”

he chose to ignore the doubt in your voice. he had you right where he wanted, and he didn’t know what he would do with himself if you said otherwise. it’s embarrassing how desperate he must seem, like a teenager doing it with his crush for the first time, but you were too wrapped up in the situation to notice. he hastily pulled off your clothing, finding the soft, untouched skin hiding underneath, and running a hand over its smoothness. you felt shy at the way he looked at you, like you were the most beautiful woman in the world and like he’s never seen anything that came even close before, making you flustered and instinctively want to hide away.

young-il didn’t give you the chance to do so as his hand dipped into your underwear and his fingers brushed against your heat. you haven’t even realized how soaked you were from a single kiss, but he didn’t give you the time to dwell on the surprise of how quickly it took for you to be excited as his fingers gently pressed into your core. you’re so tight around just two of his fingers, already gasping at the foreign feeling and squirming— it made him wonder if he would even be able to fit, but he’s nothing if not patient. he had all the time in the world to spend with you now.

“shh, it’s okay, you’re doing so good,” he breathed, languidly pumping his digits in and out of you, watching all of your pretty expressions like a hawk as your eyes scrunched up and your chest heaved. when he came closer to wrap his lips around one of your sensitive nipples hardened by the cold air, he could almost hear your heartbeat beating rapidly as you let out a little moan.

you weren’t exactly sure if you were doing as good as he made it sound; you weren’t doing much of anything aside from sitting there and taking his fingers. he was doing all of the work, and yet your entire body felt like it was on fire and starting to sweat. did it normally feel this intense? you weren’t even sure how you would be able to handle the real thing. as you felt an unfamiliar tightening in your abdomen, your hand flew to cover your mouth, self-conscious at how loud you were starting to become, “w-wait, sir, i think i’m going to—” the last word lingered as your sex-hazed mind tried to think of a word, a word for the sensation that has never happened to you until now, but you didn’t have the chance to as you suddenly gushed all over his hand and let out a muffled cry.

“aw, did you come already?” young-il seemed to be different now, more playful, as he raised his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean of your arousal and savoring your sweetness on his tongue. the taste was addicting, and he had half a mind to fall on his knees and to lap up all of your spilled juices right then and there, but he couldn’t wait anymore and needed to be inside of you. he doesn’t think he’s ever needed anything so badly before, making quick work to lower his sweats and underwear, “it’s going to hurt a bit at first, but it will feel good after a minute, i promise.” he had to hold back a chuckle at how you gawked at his size for a moment, wondering if you could really take it when you could barely handle just two of his fingers, but he knows he prepped you enough.

“okay,” you murmured dumbly and leaned back, feeling your back hit the cold mirror attached to the wall above the sink. any thoughts you had in your head had basically been fucked out of it, embarassing as it may sound. all you could do was wrap your arms around his neck, burning your face into the crook of his neck as he gently pushed himself into you, inch by inch, holding himself back from ruthlessly ramming into you before you were ready.

all your breaths were short and shallow, the sensation of being filled up like this encompassing your body in a mix of pain and pleasure. it hurt being stretched out and you couldn’t help but whine, your distress not going unnoticed by young-il as his thumb came up to your clit and circled it while peppering kisses to your face, “that’s it, just like that, tell me when you’re ready for me to move.”

after a few moments, you nodded, signaling him to continue. he’s slow at first, getting you used to the push and pull. it took a minute or two for the pain to dissolve into pure ecstasy. you found yourself pulling on his sleeves, silently asking him to speed up because you were too shy to say so. he’s a very perceptive person though, immediately noticing your need. if he were any crueler, he would tease you for it and make you beg for it. he could only imagine how beautiful you would look and sound, bashful and desperate for more, but he needed to get off too, and as nice as it was to leisurely fuck you as he currently was, he wasn’t getting anywhere like this.

as he thrust into you and your welcoming cunt, he couldn’t help but think about how horrible he truly was. he was here to keep an eye on the previous winner and prevent him from trying to ruin the games, but here he was obsessing over a young lady who shouldn’t even be here. he’s disgusting, he knows it, and yet he doesn’t stop the constant motion or the thoughts running through his mind.

he wants to keep you here with him, locked away for his eyes only, away from everyone else. wouldn’t it be so nice to have you in his lap, watching the games and sharing a glass of liquor with you while you’re all dolled up? he doesn’t want to think of it like he’s keeping you as a pet, but he would like to marry you and have you as his trophy wife to accompany him during those annoying dinners with the vips. you wouldn’t have to work a day of your life if you were his, all you would have to do is look pretty and share his affections. and maybe a family someday too?

fuck, he was getting close just thinking about it. he should be allowed this much after giving his life to the games and abandoning everything he knew.

“sir, i’m close,” you whined, your nails digging into the fabric of his sleeves.

“i am too… could i… could i do it inside?”

it’s not like him to ask, but if he wanted to build a life with you (or at some semblance of one), he owed you this much.

you nodded, not thinking of what he was asking or what it could entail in the future. all you could think of was your oncoming climax, unraveling the tightened knot in your stomach and bursting at the seams.young-il followed shortly after with your velvety walls spasming around him, painting your insides white and filling you up to the brim to the point of some of it leaking out when he pulled himself from you. he couldn’t help but to collect some of the spillage with his finger and push it back into you, as if he didn’t want any of it to go waste.

“you won’t have to participate in the games anymore, i’m going to get you out of here.”

requested by bunii:

please please please could you do a smut with the front man of squid games s2 when he is pretending to be a player. Maybe you are scared, or crying because you wanna go home and he’s “comforting you” and brings you to the bathroom to wipe your tears, but then he kisses you… and so on.

requested by anonymous:

Heyy! I have been interested in your account and your squid game content recently!:) And I was wondering if you’d do my request?. Headcanons with yandere s2 Hwang in-ho/frontman with a fem reader who doesn’t know who he actually is?. Like she likes him but she doesn’t know he is the frontman or his “real identity”. Thank you!

#📜. her works #hwang in ho #hwang in ho x reader #squid game #squid game x reader #squid game smut #hwang in ho smut

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itsshawtyysworld · 5 months ago

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Hear me out: squid game edition

I've seen on tik tok and pinterest a lot of people saying 'hear me out' on the finest man of the entire south Korea which makes me believe this 'hear me out' has lost its meaning, so I'm gonna do a list full of my favorite underrated characters of squid game that no one talks about enough.

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

N°6: That one math teacher from s1.

This man absolutely slayed his minutes of screen time and we have to admit he was smart as hell but unfortunately he was gone too soon (if he looked at me like that he would die looking a slurped caprisun)

N°5: The square masked officer

He was given 2 minutes of screen time and he served and ate. I don't know if this if just me but I hope he makes a bigger appearance in the third season because I feel like he has some potential (help me lord he's fine as hell)

N°4: Park Gyeong-Seok

Let's be real here, he did soooo good on episode 7, he literally went off and acted like he was in call of duty or something. He's honestly a great character and I got so sad they killed him because I want him to go back to his daughter (MY SHAYLA) but I also have a theory that N°11 (No-eul) was the one who went to shoot him but didn't actually kill him, this since we didn't see him die (he's so pookie I want him in my bed)

N°3: Choi Woo-Seok

My baby did nothing but serve face for the entirety of s2 (LMAO) but I honestly love him so much, he's such a cool and funny character, although i found slightly annoying how much trust he put onto captain Park but i can't blame him since Jun-ho also believes him but I hope they get to find that island in s3. (That fuckass chain of his makes him finer oof)

N°2: Deok-Su

BEFORE YOU COME AT ME LISTENNNN, OKAY? We can't lie and say he was the worst character because he WASN'T. Was he fucked in the head? Yes. Would he slay if he was alive during s2? Absolutely. This mf went INSANE during the bathroom fight and during lights out and although he wasn't the best with the brains, he definitely was one hell of a fighter. I don't think anyone in s2 would stand a chance if he was still alive (he's pretty fucking hot too I'd honestly let him destroy my insides)

N°1: Seong Gi-Hun

How tf is he the MAIN CHARACTER but also underrated??? He's quite literally one of the best characters in the entire show but I'm so disappointed at how much trust he puts on people (frontman) but that only shows how much kindness he has in heart, I mean, after watching over 600 people die, losing both his best friends (RIP MY SHAYLAS) and also losing contact with his daughter??? This man deserves the best therapist in the world. I also will NEVER forgive Netflix for cutting off his fluffy hair and for taking away his smile. (He's so pookie and this pic is making me feral I want him to look at me like that when he sees me laying naked on the table as he waits for dinner)

Anyway, this was a brief opinion on these characters and I know there's so much more I could say but I feel lazy and I can't remember half of the events of s1 but feel free to share your thoughts!! Like, repost and comment if you can I love you babes🫶🏽

#squid game #squid game x reader #gi hun x reader #jang deok su #choi woo seok #park gyeong seok #masked officer #square guard #seong gi hun

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crescent003 · 5 months ago

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A Little Jealous

Squid Game Master list

The apartment was unusually quiet for a Saturday afternoon, the kind of quiet that only came when the baby was napping. The sound of the baby monitor hums faintly in the background, a soft reminder that their little one—who was still too young to understand how precious these moments were—was blissfully unaware of just how much his parents were falling in love with him every single day.

You were in the kitchen, moving about the space with a peaceful air, humming softly to yourself as you prepared dinner. He had settled into the living room, leaning back on the couch, the weight of his thoughts momentarily suspended in the calm that surrounded him. It wasn’t often that he allowed himself to fully relax, but with you and their son, he felt at peace in a way he’d never thought possible.

The baby, however, was the true source of his heart’s contentment. He had only been awake for a few minutes from his nap, and you’d already brought him into the living room, cradled carefully in your arms. The little one, barely more than a few months old, had already started babbling more, and each day seemed to bring something new. A smile, a giggle, a new sound. He had no idea how much those sounds meant to him until now.

"Look at him," you said softly, as you sat beside him on the couch, the baby wriggling happily in your lap. You smiled as you stroked the baby’s hair, watching him babble as his chubby little hands grabbed at the air. He made cooing sounds, blissfully unaware of the world around him, his eyes shining with excitement.

Your voice, tender and full of affection, made him glance over. You spoke again, holding the baby up a little so he could see his father. “Say ‘mama,’ baby,” you coaxed gently. The baby let out a gurgling sound in response, and your smile grew wider. “That’s right, mama,” you said softly, as if the word alone made your heart swell.

And then it happened.

The baby, with wide eyes and an expression of complete joy, managed to form a sound that was unmistakable. It wasn’t dada—the word he had been so desperately hoping for—it was mama.

His heart gave a little jolt. Mama? His eyes widened slightly, and for a brief moment, he froze.

You, oblivious to his sudden shift in mood, were smiling down at their son, cooing at how adorable it was. “That’s right, baby! Mama! Say mama, you’re such a smart little boy.”

Meanwhile, Gong yoo who had been sitting with a proud, expectant smile, suddenly felt a little… well, not exactly betrayed, but jealous. He shifted in his seat, trying to keep his reaction under control.

The baby gurgled again, as if to confirm his new achievement, and the salesman couldn’t help himself. “Wait, wait—hold on a second,” he said, leaning closer, trying to hide the hint of playfulness that had already crept into his voice. “He just said mama, but what about dada?” He shifted his weight on the couch, suddenly leaning in toward the baby, his voice turning a little exaggerated in mock frustration. “Come on, little one. Dada, say dada. Dada’s here too!”

The baby looked up at him, his bright eyes wide with curiosity. He stared for a moment, processing his father’s face, then turned back to you with a happy gurgle and cooed again.

“Mama,” the baby repeated, much to the salesman’s chagrin.

He blinked, his eyebrows furrowing for a split second. “I mean… really?” He glanced up at you, trying to hide the playful hint of disappointment on his face. “Are you sure he’s saying mama? He can’t possibly be skipping straight to mama, right? It’s dada time.”

You laughed softly, the sound comforting as you gave him a gentle look. “Oh, I’m sure. He said mama, didn’t you hear him? He’s just so smart.” You paused, looking at their son with adoration. “Of course, he’s smart. He gets it from me.”

The salesman rolled his eyes dramatically. “Yeah, of course,” he teased. “Your genius brain. Well, okay, little guy.” He leaned back, adopting a mock-serious tone. “Let’s try this again. Dada. Come on, dada. Dada’s got you.” He reached out, gently cupping the baby’s cheek with his hand, smiling at the little one.

But the baby just cooed and, with an almost dramatic sense of defiance, repeated, “Mama.”

The salesman could only stare in disbelief. “Are you serious?!” His voice was almost a whisper, full of mock shock, and his playful frustration grew. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for months now. I even let you sleep in my arms. I fed you.” He shifted in his seat and pointed to you. “And you—you’re already the favorite.”

You chuckled, your smile softening with affection. “I don’t think he’s picking favorites just yet.”

But the salesman, clearly putting on a dramatic show, crossed his arms and looked down at the baby with an exaggerated pout. “Fine. Fine. If you don’t want to say dada, that’s fine. I’ll just be over here, plotting my revenge.”

You laughed at his antics, brushing a hand through his hair. “You’re being dramatic. He’ll say it when he’s ready.”

He gave you a teasing side-eye before leaning in closer to the baby again. “I’ll be here, waiting,” he said, his tone light but full of playful determination. “I’m not giving up.”

The baby gurgled happily, his eyes wide and curious. And again, he said, almost like a song: “Mama.”

The salesman sighed dramatically. “You’re lucky I love you,” he muttered, though there was no mistaking the fondness in his voice. He leaned over and kissed the top of the baby’s head. “Alright, I’ll let you have this one. For now.”

You smiled lovingly at both of them, your heart swelling at the sight. "He’ll say dada soon enough,” you said with a laugh. “Just be patient.”

But as the baby cooed again, and the salesman gave one last exaggerated sigh of disappointment, he couldn’t help but laugh too. He knew this moment, however small it seemed, was one he would treasure forever. And when his son did finally say dada, it would be all the more special for the little drama that had led up to it.

#the salesman x reader #salesman x yn #squid game salesman #salesman x reader #the salesman #squid game x y/n #squid game #squid game x wife reader #squid game x reader #squid game x you #squid game x oc #dad!salesman x reader #dad!salesman #dad!

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thevanillerose · 5 months ago

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SQUID GAME 2 | YANDERE SCENARIOS

~ WRITING COMMISSIONS ~ ~ PATREON ~ ~ KO-FI ~ ~ NOVELS

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own anything except my own writing. All properties belong to their respective creators.

CONTENT WARNING: SPOILERS / Yandere / Violence / Death A/N: Probably the most popular request I've ever gotten on this blog, was to write a sequel to Squid Game | Yandere Scenarios. Now it did take me a minute to binge Season 2, with a bestie. Mainly because I felt like it was a little too depressing to watch over the holiday season...(unless it's a 'Silent Night Deadly Night' sorta Christmas??). But now that I have, hoo boy.

Strap in.

THE SALESMAN

Your teeth ached.

You should have predicted the kind of man he was. You should have seen it coming long before this investigation started. His little subway game should have been a dead giveaway.

Was it any surprise you ended up gagged and bound in the most fucked up game of Russian Roulette you could imagine?

Watching him slide that metal barrel up taut between his teeth was enough to make your breath catch. It was strikingly perverse, but then again, so were many of the things he had turned out to be into. And you’d ended up in too deep before you could realize that.

For a moment though, just a moment, you wondered if maybe Heaven was smiling on you. You wondered, ever so hopefully, if that chamber may be full. If a bullet may rip right up through his skull and splatter the cheap smoke-stained motel wallpaper behind him.

It didn’t.

You flinched at the click, and that was all.

Smiling smugly, he withdrew the gun from his mouth and slid it across the table to you again.

“Your turn, [Y/N].”

Right now you didn’t even know what your odds were. You quit calculating your chances once more than two bullets had come into play. Hopelessness swelled in you, and you couldn’t even will yourself to pick up the gun. You sank in the seat, skin pressing to the ropes, lowering your head in pitiful defeat.

“Mm? You don’t want to play anymore?”

When he received no response from you, save for a sad shake of your head, he sighed and picked up the gun, twirling it aptly, gesturing it towards you as if it were only a toy.

“That’s no fun. I thought you were feeling lucky? Isn’t that why you came after me in the first place?”

You looked aside, ashamed. Mission failed, huh?

Now, all you expected was a pull of that trigger on his part. A gamble on your behalf, one he’d probably take a few times if that was what it took to put you down. Yet instead, it was the gun he put down instead.

“Can I be honest with you, [Y/N]?” he asked, steepling his fingers and leaning forward to look you dead in your tearful eyes.

“...I think it’s quite fortunate. That you stopped being so stubborn. That you gave up. Do you know why?”

Somehow, this already confusing man had baffled you further. And only moreso, terrifyingly moreso, when his fingers reached out to drift slowly up your cheek, coming to tug playfully on the gag and make you whimper.

“Because, alive? Like this? I can do whatever I want with you.”

That charming, disarming smile.

“Can’t I?”

THANOS

“I wanna keep playing with you. So push O, okay baby?”

His painted nails dug deep under your collarbones, like the worst kind of shoulder massage, his tall body leaning over yours and pressing against your back. His purple hair brushed your cheek, as did his breath when he spoke.

Thanos had singled you out and ‘chosen’ you from the get-go. He was arrogant enough to think he could get anyone he wanted, and you were a cute-looking challenge for him. Your initial resistance, your discomfort around him, he figured, had been nerves.

“But it’s all good babe, stick with me and I’ll keep you safe. That’s a promise, yeah?”

Surely it didn’t have nearly nothing to do with your actual wellbeing, and more to do with keeping you in his clutches. Surely it wasn’t because he cared less about whether one of those pink limp-dicks blasted your brains out and more about making sure nothing else with a dick got near you.

Surely it wasn’t anything like that.

You were just someone who’d make a good fuck if he could bribe the guards to let you two in the bathroom alone. Just a toy for him to play around with, as he drugged himself all the way to victory.

…He tried to keep that lie strong and real in his head. But with you standing right there, back to his chest, he knew he was trying to convince himself of some serious bullshit.

There was nobody else like you. He didn’t know why, there just wasn’t.

Whatever it was, the drugs, the impending doom, the smell of money, whatever it was…one thing he simply knew for sure, was that he couldn’t let you go.

Which meant, you had to keep playing.

You had to push O.

His grip finally loosened, as your number was called. He pushed you toward the voting stand. He bit down on his chipped, painted thumb, and hoped you’d make the right choice.

Because if you didn’t? Well.

He wasn’t letting you go anyway.

HYUN-JU

It wasn’t fair.

You were so sweet. You were so innocent. You were so understanding.

Someone like you had no place in a game like this. Whatever mess it was you’d gotten yourself in, out in the real world, Hyun-ju couldn’t imagine it was bad enough to be worth staying here. Living this nightmare. She couldn’t fathom why you had voted to keep going.

There was no way you’d last. This sweet little person who called her ‘unnie’, and had told her without a shred of sarcasm that she was beautiful…you surely had too good a soul to survive in this place. You were going to die, and you were going to die horribly, she just knew it, and she couldn’t bear it.

“Unnie…would you come to the bathroom with me?”

During the night, you’d nudged and asked her almost like a child, apologetic for waking her, but clearly trusting nobody else as much. Hyun-ju obliged of course, she felt like she could do anything for you. Escorting you to the bathroom, even if it meant dealing with some difficult guards, was such a small ask.

It was the middle of the night. Everyone was resting, or trying to, at least. Trying to steel themselves with energy, a hopeful advantage in the upcoming games. So here, it was just the two of you. Alone.

“I won’t be long!” you assured her, and hurried into one of the cubicles, while Hyun-ju turned towards the sinks, leaning against one and gripping it. She gazed up at her face, brushing her cheek, remembering how you’d called her ‘beautiful’.

You probably didn’t even realize how much that meant to her. You probably couldn’t fathom the effect you had on her.

Hyun-ju’s teeth grit and she doubled over, arms quivering as her grip on the sink’s edge steadily tightened. More and more, until her knuckles flushed in white.

I could do it.

Her head immediately shot up, staring at herself in sheer horror. How could she even consider that?

But…what was the alternative? Let you suffer in one of these awful ‘games’? See your perfect face riddled with bullets, bloodied, ruined? Let any of those other lecherous creeps in here even have a chance of getting closer to you?

…It would be a mercy, no?

“I’m done!”

Blissfully unaware of what she was truly contemplating, you emerged again and quickly washed your hands, looking up at her with your usual, warm smile.

“Do you need to go too?” you shook your hands off, “I can wait for you, unnie.”

Hyun-ju forced a shaky smile, and shook her head.

“No…I’m fine.”

“Okay!” you gestured for her to go ahead, back to bed, back to the impossible task of trying to get any rest at all in this fucked up place.

Instead, Hyun-ju reached out and gently guided you back against the sink, standing over you. Her hand lingered near the crook of your neck, her thumb gently curling against your skin.

“...Unnie?” you looked up at her, now wide-eyed, and confused.

“...You wouldn’t blame me…right?” she whispered, softly, worriedly, like her words were pure sin. Her other hand cupped your cheek gently, and you instinctively leaned into it, confused, but happy to be held by her like this.

“...I just…I don’t want you to suffer…”

The pad of her thumb pressed harder. Her other fingers slipped lower, resting on the other side of your neck.

All she had to do was bring them together. Bring them together…and squeeze.

Squeeze until you felt nothing else. Until you could go blissfully to a happier place, with no debts, and no killing, and freedom again. Your delicate body would sink against hers, and then, somehow, she’d take herself out of here too. It could be as simple as provoking one of the guards on lavatory duty. It wouldn’t be the prettiest, but at least then, you’d be together.

Out of this place. Away from it all.

Forever-

“U-unnie?”

It was how small and suddenly so frightened your voice sounded, that startled her out of it. Her hands jerked back, hovering stiffly either side of you, as you gazed up at her with so much hurt and concern and…fear.

Fear.

You were afraid of her. The last thing she would have ever wanted.

“...W…we should get back, right? They’re going to get mad if we don’t…”

She could see the way you still tried your best to smile, and be nice, be the way you’d always been with her, but it was too late.

It was ruined. She blew it. You’d never see her the same way again.

Whether you truly knew what her intent had been or not, she could feel the awkward shift between the two of you, as she stiffly followed you out. She felt sick. Was that it? The end of this beautiful thing you had?

…Beautiful.

No. She couldn’t let it be. And as she left that bathroom, and looked at those guards, and looked at every other twisted person in that room, and looked at…you. She knew.

She was filled with a dark, delusional resolve.

Maybe killing you wasn’t the answer.

Maybe killing everyone else was.

THE FRONT MAN

Young-il had seemed like a good man.

A good man, simply in a bad place. Like the rest of you. You liked to think anyway.

It was only during this game, Mingle, that you got to see the full extent of people’s desperation. What they were willing to do, to survive, to line their pockets, or both.

It wasn’t in your nature…

“You understand, right [Y/N]!?”

It wasn’t ever…

“We’re sorry!!”

…in your nature.

You’d made a small group of companions here, but as you were the weakest link, they cut you in an instant as soon as the number needed in one of those rooms required it. Their apologies were like water, they meant nothing, as you were left standing there, lost, alone, scared.

This game…was also the first time he took action.

Messing with Gi-hun was one thing, but the Front Man wanted more than that. As soon as The Salesman had shown you to him; your red, flustered face as you had been slapped around the subway station, captured on handycam video…he had been sure of something.

It wasn’t just Gi-hun. It was you too.

Perhaps, he’d even say, you were the priority.

He liked the idea of keeping you after this was all over. Which meant, for now, assuring you stayed alive through these games.

So when he saw you abandoned, it was his time to act. He practically ripped the breath out of you with how fast he grabbed and tugged you along, throwing you into a lime green room and slamming the door shut behind the two of you.

You hit the wall with a yelp, and slumped against it. But as you shakily looked to your right, and as he turned from the door and cast his sharp eyes around the room, you both saw.

You’d wanted 2. You’d gotten 3.

“H-hey, we can work this out, r–”

The man didn’t get to finish. The tears that had welled in his eyes now poured down his face as he gagged and choked and writhed against the solid arm around his neck. You gasped with horror, staggering back as tightly into the corner as you could, covering your mouth with both hands.

You watched him kill that man. Clenched jaw, staring ahead coldly, even as a living being drifted into death in his very own arms.

And only once he was sure you were in the clear…did that kindness return. That goodness, you had been so sure about.

Young-il stood, and approached you, arm outstretched so he could brush your arm gently with his palm.

“You’re alright?”

You didn’t know how to respond. Pallid and wide-eyed, feeling like you had a cord around your throat, you looked into those worried eyes and only saw softness. But you couldn’t shake seeing that hard look from earlier. Witnessing it firsthand.

His cold will. How easily he had killed.

Swallowing thickly, you nodded, but quickly moved away, muttering something about how the game must be over now. As you stepped out, he remained for a moment, glancing up at the cameras before smirking, and curling the hand that had touched you close to the mint green jacket on his chest.

Did that shock you? Really?

Then perhaps it was better if you braced yourself.

Because if it meant keeping you as his own sort of prize……he was willing to do a lot worse than that.

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132 notes · View notes

everwhovian · 2 months ago

Note

I think it should be inho's turn to suffer instead on junho. Can you imagine a role reversal between the two of them with the frontman position. Inho losing his mind with worry when he notices that junho is missing and self blame he'll probably feel when he finds out junho is the one behind the mask. Wondering where he went wrong for junho to choose this path

This took a turn! You know, my original plan was In-ho notices Jun-ho is missing, goes insane with worry SKIP EVERYTHING cliff scene reveal but switched obviously with a lot of self doubt...

Now In-ho has managed to slam Gi-hun into walls twice... and a lot of crazy thoughts (it's 2am, don’t judge me please)

Also, In-ho is very unhinged... but his boy is missing so he doesn't care!

(Warnings: squid game typical violence, mentions of organ harvesting [In-ho discovers it], blood, gore, gun violence)

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ○△□ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

In-ho didn’t notice it at first.

Jun-ho skipped calls sometimes. Forgot to text back. Left dishes in the sink for days and only remembered to turn the heater on when he got sick. In-ho had spent a decade learning to pick his battles. The ones that mattered were the hospital bills. The grade reports. The tired smile Jun-ho gave him on the nights they shared tteokbokki and silence in front of the TV.

But then… silence stretched. Too long.

The apartment was still stocked with groceries, but there was mold on the bananas. A cup of instant noodles on the counter – water dried up, lid curled and brittle. His voicemail box was full.

The first wave was irritation. He cursed under his breath, muttered “Stupid kid probably left for a trip without telling me” – but the words didn’t feel right in his mouth. Didn’t sit the way they used to.

Because Jun-ho always left a note. A text. A stupid sticker on KakaoTalk. Because Jun-ho never let him worry for too long.

In-ho told himself not to overreact.

Jun-ho was an adult. Thirty-something now. Capable, clever, independent in the way only someone raised to survive could be. In-ho had always admired that about him – even when it scared him. Even when it meant Jun-ho didn’t need him the way he used to.

But this – this wasn’t independence. This was absence.

And absence had a weight to it. A shape. A sound.

It was in the quiet shuffle of shoes by the door, lined up the way Jun-ho always left them – one pair crooked, one pair still slightly muddy. It was in the mail neatly stacked on the counter, unopened but sorted, because Jun-ho hated clutter (even if he was terrible at organization, sometimes). In the faint scent of detergent in the laundry basket, where a hoodie still lay half-folded.

He hadn’t packed. He hadn’t planned.

In-ho stood in the middle of that apartment and felt watched by everything Jun-ho had left behind.

The water in the kettle had evaporated completely. The houseplants were thirsty. And yet – three days. No word. Not a text. Not a missed call. Not even a “busy. Talk later.”

In-ho found himself checking the windows, the locks, the bathroom drain. Ridiculous things. Irrational things. But his brain wouldn’t stop spinning. Wouldn’t stop imagining.

Had Jun-ho been taken? Had he left willingly? Had he – no. He wouldn’t.

He wouldn’t leave without telling him. Not after everything. Not after –

In-ho sat down on the couch and realized, with a start, that his hands were shaking. He clenched them in his lap and stared at the coffee table. There was a water ring left behind by a glass, and beside it, a folded-up napkin with doodles on it. Little squiggles. A cat. A stick figure.

Jun-ho’s.

Always drawing something. Always fidgeting.

He could still see the kid he raised crouched over math homework, pencil tucked behind his ear, complaining about fractions. Could still hear the sleepy “Night, hyung” from the room down the hall.

And now – nothing.

In-ho buried his face in his hands.

Where are you, kid?

He didn’t call Jun-ho again. He already knew he wouldn’t answer. Instead, he pulled out his phone and opened every tracking option he had. Bank statements. Metro card history. CCTV logs near the station.

If Jun-ho thought he could disappear without leaving a trace, he was wrong.

Because In-ho wasn’t just a brother.

He was a detective.

And he was going to find him.

He almost missed it.

The card had been wedged between the couch cushions – just barely visible, the corner peeking out like a secret. At first glance, it looked like a business card. Cream-colored. Plain.

But then he saw the shapes.

Circle. Triangle. Square.

He frowned. Turned it over. A number was printed on the back – but not clearly. Smudged. Like it had been damaged by water or heat. The digits were scrambled, half-worn off, like a message you were never meant to read twice.

He pocketed it anyway.

Part instinct. Part ritual. Part desperate, older-brother hope that maybe – just maybe – Jun-ho had left it for him. A clue. A message. Anything.

Still, he wasn’t thinking much of it until later that afternoon. The precinct was loud – rain dripping from coats, phones ringing, someone yelling in the lobby. In-ho was half-listening, waiting on access to a traffic camera near Jun-ho’s neighborhood. That’s when he heard it:

“They killed people! I saw them die!”

He turned.

A man – mid-forties, soaked from the rain, eyes wild – was gripping the front desk like it could hold him upright. His voice cracked with every word. “I’m not crazy! They put us in some kind of warehouse. Played Red Light, Green Light with guns – you think I made that up?!”

In-ho watched as the desk sergeant tried to calm him down. Two officers exchanged a look. One whispered “Another nutjob,” and the other stifled a laugh.

But In-ho stepped forward.

Because the man had just thrown something onto the counter. A card. Circle. Triangle. Square.

Just like the one burning a hole in In-ho’s jacket pocket.

His heart stopped. Just for a second. Then it started again – harder.

“Let him go,” someone muttered. “Probably high. No ID.”

The man left in a rage, shouting that no one ever listens. That they’ll all see soon enough.

In-ho didn’t wait. He grabbed his umbrella, signed out from the front desk, and followed him into the rain.

Each step echoed like a countdown.

Jun-ho had vanished.

And now this card – that card – was showing up in the hands of a man claiming people were being murdered in some kind of sick game.

The coincidence was too sharp. Too cruel. Too specific.

In-ho pulled up his hood, eyes locked on the man ahead, and picked up his pace.

Whatever Jun-ho had gotten himself into – whatever this was – In-ho was going to drag him back.

Even if he had to walk through hell to do it.

The man barely made it to his building’s front steps before In-ho was on him.

No warning.

One arm slammed across his chest, the other pinning his shoulder back. The doorframe shuddered with the force of it. Rain hammered down, thunder muttering low like it knew what was coming.

The man let out a startled cry – high and breathless – body curling in like he’d been here before, like this wasn’t the first time someone had pinned him like a threat.

In-ho’s jaw clenched.

He was breathing too hard. Rain dripped from his hair, soaked through his collar, clung to his eyelashes. His umbrella lay forgotten on the pavement behind them, tossed aside in a moment of pure instinct.

The man squirmed under him. “I-I didn’t do anything –”

“Shut up.” In-ho’s voice cut through the rain, low and cold. “You were at the station. Talking about games. People dying.”

The man blinked through the water dripping down his face. Dark hair clung to his forehead like seaweed. His expression flickered between confusion and terror, lips twitching around words that wouldn’t come.

“I –”

In-ho pressed in harder. “What do you know about the card.”

Silence. Just the sound of water running down gutters, tires hissing on the road, the wet pat-pat of the man’s sneakers scraping against the wall as he tried to find footing.

Then, quietly: “They gave it to me. At the station. The – the subway. Said I could win money.”

He flinched as In-ho’s grip twitched.

“I thought it was a scam,” he continued quickly. “Just a game! But then – then people started dying –”

“How long ago?” In-ho snapped.

The man blinked, rain pooling in his lashes. “Two… two days. They let us vote to leave. So they let us go. Said I signed away my rights –”

His voice cracked then, like something inside him broke wide open. “I didn’t know they were gonna kill people. I swear. I didn’t –”

In-ho loosened his grip. Just slightly. Not all the way, but enough to stop hurting.

The man sagged in relief, chest heaving. His entire frame shook – not from fear of In-ho anymore, but something deeper. Residual terror. Trauma that hadn’t stopped echoing yet.

“You have a name?” In-ho asked, quieter now.

“Seong… Gi-hun,” he whispered.

In-ho stepped back, just a pace. Enough to see the whole picture. Gi-hun, soaked and trembling. The flickering entrance light above them. The card – that card – still pressed into In-ho’s pocket like a ghost.

“Someone I care about may have gotten involved,” he said, his voice quieter but no less sharp. “My brother. If he’s in whatever this is, I need to find him. Fast.”

Gi-hun looked up, startled. “You think he –?”

“I don’t think,” In-ho said. “I know. He wouldn’t just vanish. Not unless something made him.”

Another beat. The rain softened slightly, shifting to mist.

“I – I can’t help you.”

Gi-hun’s voice was quiet. Frayed. His eyes darted over In-ho’s face – searching for something, maybe pity, maybe mercy – but all he found was that detective’s stillness. That iron calm that made Gi-hun flinch again, like he expected another slam into the wall.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “I don’t – I can’t. I just want to forget it happened, okay? Please. I can’t go back there.”

He moved suddenly, a quick jerk of motion, slipping from under In-ho’s arm like a fish breaking the surface. Before In-ho could react, Gi-hun yanked the door open and bolted inside.

His footsteps slapped against the tile floor. The door slammed shut behind him, muffling everything.

In-ho didn’t follow. He didn’t even move. He just stood there, breathing hard in the rain, water pooling at his feet, the card in his pocket a burning brand.

Gi-hun was gone.

A startled, sopping mess of a man who looked like he’d clawed his way back from hell only to find the world kept spinning without him. A wet cat – skittish, wide-eyed, spitting between shakes. In-ho had seen that look before. On witnesses. On survivors.

And now on a man who had walked out of something Jun-ho may have walked into.

His stomach twisted.

This wasn’t a kidnapping.

This wasn’t a scam or some underground fight club or a cult.

Jun-ho had chosen to go.

He had taken the card, made the call. Stepped forward.

Why?

What could’ve pushed him to that edge? What had In-ho missed?

He tried to picture Jun-ho, holding that card. Calling the number. Climbing into a van. Getting loaded into whatever nightmare Gi-hun had just stumbled out of.

And the worst part?

He couldn’t imagine him not doing it.

Because Jun-ho was quiet. Stubborn. Tired in a way he never said out loud. And In-ho had been so caught in his own grief after Yuna, so sure that Jun-ho was doing okay – still going to class, still texting, still showing up – that he hadn’t looked deeper. He hadn’t asked.

He squeezed his eyes shut, rain running off his lashes. He thought about them: tteokbokki nights. Dumb KakaoTalk stickers. The sound of Jun-ho humming off-key in the shower.

All of it. Echoes.

Now silence.

In-ho stepped back from the door. Slowly. Like the ground might collapse beneath him if he moved too fast.

He had a name now. A witness.

He had a card in his pocket, a number he hadn’t called yet.

And a brother who had walked straight into hell.

In-ho wasn’t going to wait anymore.

He was going to drag Jun-ho out of this.

Or burn the whole thing down trying.

The number was dead.

At first, it rang – three, four times – then cut off with a sterile voice: ‘The number you have dialed is not in service.’

In-ho tried again.

This time, a woman answered.

“Hello?”

Not the kind of voice you expect from a secret death game.

She sounded confused, groggy. Somewhere in the background, a dog barked.

“This is Detective Hwang,” In-ho said carefully. “I’m looking for someone who might have used this number recently.”

A pause. “I think someone forwarded their calls to me by mistake,” she said. “You’re like the third person today.”

Click.

No leads. No callback.

Just more silence.

So he did what he knew how to do: he followed.

Seong Gi-hun wasn’t subtle. His desperation clung to him like a wet coat – obvious in every frantic glance, every half-run across intersections, every whispered argument into a payphone.

In-ho watched from doorways. From parked cars. From rooftops when necessary.

He followed him to the hospital first. Watched through the glass as Gi-hun argued with a nurse, then pleaded with an older woman hooked to oxygen.

His mother.

She was sick. Pale. Angry.

In-ho watched her shake her head. Refuse treatment. Gi-hun folded in on himself. Hands in his hair, shoulders hunched like a boy who had never stopped being one.

Next came a friend.

An old schoolmate, maybe. Laughed too loud, tried to joke away the tension – but In-ho saw the moment the smile dropped when Gi-hun asked for money. Saw the shift in posture. The quiet “I’m sorry.”

Gi-hun left that building with slumped shoulders and a look in his eyes that told In-ho he already knew the answer.

Then came the tracks. The betting slip. A horse race.

In-ho watched him gamble everything he had left – and lose.

He watched him refuse a stack of cash from his ex-wife’s new husband. Watched the man speak, serious and firm. Heard one phrase – never see her again – and saw Gi-hun flinch like he’d been shot.

Still, he didn’t take the money.

Stupid. Reckless. But maybe, In-ho thought, not entirely wrong.

Then, finally, came the night.

Dark. Cold. Quiet.

Gi-hun stood outside the convenience store for a long time, like he didn’t want to move. Then the car pulled up.

Black. Window-tinted. Nondescript.

The back door opened.

Gi-hun hesitated only a moment – just long enough for In-ho to see the fear behind his eyes.

Then he climbed inside.

The car pulled away.

So did In-ho.

He didn’t use the siren. Didn’t tail close enough to get noticed. Just kept the distance steady, eyes locked on the plates, every nerve lit with fire.

Because this – this – was it.

This was the moment the path bent toward darkness.

And if he followed it far enough, he’d find Jun-ho at the end.

He had to.

He lost the car.

It happened fast – too fast. One truck pulling out without a blinker, a detour down a narrow road, and by the time In-ho cleared the mess, the black sedan was gone.

Vanished. Just like Jun-ho.

In-ho didn’t panic.

He couldn’t afford to.

Instead, he slowed down. Circled back. Watched. Waited. And there it was – tucked behind the shipping yard, quiet and unmarked: a ferry.

Large. Industrial. Nondescript in the way only something intentionally hidden could be. No signs. No passenger list. No lights in the upper decks. But the black sedan was there.

He followed.

Slipped onto the vessel under the cover of shadows and steel, sticking to blind corners, ducking behind cargo pallets as if he’d been trained for this his whole life.

Because he had.

It was almost funny, in a bitter, sour sort of way. All the undercover operations. All the training. The years he spent learning to blend in with gangs and murderers – and now it brought him here.

To find his baby brother.

The uniform came easy. One of them was smoking on deck, helmet off, too relaxed for his own good.

He never saw it coming.

In-ho stripped him, hid the body, slipped into the pink suit like he was born to wear it. Triangle mask. Mid-tier authority. Armed.

Good.

Better than using his police-issued firearm.

He had a feeling he was going to need the anonymity.

The island was brutal in its symmetry. Clean lines. Watchful cameras. Guards who moved like clockwork. Players in green uniforms, filed and numbered and trembling with fatigue.

In-ho watched them all.

Every morning, during roll call, he scanned every face. Counted twice. Checked for the slouch of Jun-ho’s shoulders, the shape of his mouth, the scar above his right brow.

Nothing.

He checked files. No one registered under his name or birthday. No aliases that fit. No one even close.

And something in In-ho’s chest began to sink.

Not among the players.

So where?

There weren’t many options left.

The guards were masked. Silent. Interchangeable.

Any of them could be Jun-ho.

Every one of them might be.

It made him sick.

Because he’d been here barely two days and already he knew what it meant to be behind the mask. The orders barked without explanation. The routine beatings. The constant, quiet fear.

And then he found the tunnel.

It was supposed to be just another patrol – following voices, a loose grate, a flicker of movement underground. But the deeper he went, the colder it got.

Until he stepped into the room.

Surgical lights. Metal tables. Blood-soaked towels and tools.

Bodies.

Pieces of bodies.

He didn’t move at first. Just stood there.

Watched.

Two men in pink suits – triangles like him – were harvesting.

One made a joke about liver weight. The other laughed. A third – black mask, square – oversaw the bagging. They worked fast. Efficient. Like this wasn’t the first time. Like it was a job.

A routine.

The tide was coming in, someone muttered. Gotta hurry.

They didn’t even glance at the faces of the people they were carving open.

And In-ho –

He just stood there.

Not because he didn’t care.

But because if he moved, if he spoke, if he even breathed too loudly, he might scream.

Instead, he scoffed.

Soft. Bitter. It escaped without his permission, thick with disgust.

He turned and walked away.

He didn’t look back.

He didn't ask how long they’d been doing it. Or who they were selling to. Or what happened when a body was too damaged to be worth the effort.

He didn’t want the answers.

Because somewhere – somewhere – Jun-ho was here.

And if he was behind a mask like this…

If he was helping with this…

If In-ho’s little brother was just another cog in this machine, obeying orders, playing along –

Then what the fuck had he done wrong?

The alarm blared in short, sharp bursts.

Dormitory breach. Unauthorized violence.

The red lights pulsed overhead, washing the hallway in blood. In-ho joined the other triangle guards storming through the metal doors, weapons raised, boots pounding against the concrete floor.

The scene inside was chaos.

Cots overturned. Blood slicking the floor. Players shoving, screaming, lunging with fists and broken objects – anything they could find. In the red strobe, it looked less like a fight and more like a feeding frenzy. The players had turned on each other.

“Lights out,” someone had called it.

A special game.

No rules. No teams. No mercy.

It had turned the dorm into a cage of survival instinct and splattered red.

“Break it up!” a square bellowed.

Guards surged forward.

In-ho moved without hesitation. He grabbed the nearest man – thin, bleeding from a cut above the brow – and shoved him down. Another tried to charge past, and In-ho swept his legs out from under him.

Order returned slowly. Reluctantly. Like something primal was being dragged back into its cage.

And then In-ho saw him.

Tucked between a wall and a fallen cot, hair wild and matted with sweat. Blood on his shirt. Big, frantic brown eyes scanning the chaos. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days – but there was still fight in him.

Seong Gi-hun.

Of course.

In-ho moved before he could stop himself.

One arm slammed across Gi-hun’s chest, pinning him to the wall between a flickering light and the shadow of a broken bedpost.

Again.

Gi-hun let out a breathless noise halfway between a curse and a squeak. He struggled for only a second before going still, hands raised.

Maybe it was grasping at straws, but In-ho had to know. Be sure.

“Do you know a player named Hwang Jun-ho?”

Gi-hun blinked, dazed.

“I – what?” he gasped. “We… we don’t use real names in here – just numbers –!”

“Fuck,” In-ho muttered under his breath, hand tightening reflexively. He held Gi-hun there a second longer. And then he let go.

Gi-hun collapsed against the wall with a shaky breath, rubbing his chest.

In-ho didn’t look back. He joined the others silently, falling into formation as they cleared the dormitory. Weapons still drawn. Masks still on.

But inside his head, the mask was cracking.

No names. Only numbers.

So now the thought he’d been avoiding turned solid. Heavy. Real.

Jun-ho really wasn't among the players. Had he really been a guard all along?

It was the only thing that made sense.

Somewhere behind those pink masks, behind the rifles and routine brutality – Jun-ho was watching. Or helping. Or hiding.

And that was worse than anything In-ho had prepared himself for.

That night, he sat on the edge of his assigned cot in the guard’s dormitory, back straight, mask off, but only because he was alone. He stared at the gun on his lap.

His hands were steady. Too steady. He used to shake during operations. Back in the early days. Before Jun-ho.

Before Yuna.

Before the years hardened into silence.

Now he didn’t shake at all.

He clenched his jaw, hard enough to ache. Pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw sparks.

Jun-ho wouldn’t join something like this.

He wouldn’t.

Except… he might. If he was desperate. If he thought no one cared. If he believed In-ho had stopped paying attention. If Yuna’s death had left a silence neither of them knew how to fill.

The thought landed like a punch to the chest.

Because Jun-ho didn’t disappear for no reason.

He wasn’t reckless. Not like that.

And if he had called the number… if he had joined willingly…

Then In-ho had missed something huge. Something loud and bleeding and obvious.

And maybe – just maybe – it was already too late.

He reached for his mask. Pulled it back on. Let the triangle cover the part of him still screaming inside.

If Jun-ho was here, he would find him.

Even if it meant looking every monster on this island in the eye.

Even if it meant realizing his brother had become one of them.

He was found out.

It happened quietly, then all at once – like the sea pulling back before the wave.

He’d been careful. Trained for this. Knew how to disappear in a uniform, how to walk like he belonged. But someone had seen something. Someone had said something.

And then they came for him.

He ran.

Through dark corridors. Past flickering lights and metal doors. Into the forest at the island’s edge, lungs burning, ribs aching from the way his heart pounded against them.

He didn’t stop. Not when the alarms screamed after him. Not when bullets ripped into trees just inches from his back.

Not when the shoreline came into view – cold, black, wild.

There was another island out there. Smaller. Close enough to reach. Just water between him and whatever came next.

So he dove.

He hit the rocks crawling. The saltwater had numbed half his body. His shoulder throbbed from the fall, his limbs leaden with cold. But he made it.

He was alive.

And then they followed.

The pink suits arrived first, boots heavy on the wet stone.

Then – him.

The man in black.

He stood at the edge of the cliff like he belonged to the storm. Masked. Silent. Perfectly still.

In-ho stared at him.

There was something wrong in the shape of him. Something achingly familiar.

No. Not possible.

But the man stepped forward. Lifted the mask. And In-ho’s world cracked. Time stopped.

Air left his lungs like he’d been struck.

Jun-ho.

It wasn’t possible.

But it was.

He looked older somehow. His face sharper. Pale beneath the moonlight. But those were Jun-ho’s eyes. That was Jun-ho’s mouth – tight and uncertain in the way it always was when he was trying not to cry.

In-ho shook his head, once, slowly. “No.”

Jun-ho didn’t say anything. He just looked at him. Pained. Reaching. Like that would fix it. Like he could still close the distance and pull In-ho with him into whatever darkness he’d chosen.

In-ho stepped back. It felt like the ground had vanished beneath him.

This wasn’t right.

Jun-ho had always been the better of the two of them. Gentler. Softer. The boy who hid stray animals in his backpack, who cried when his teachers scolded someone else.

He wasn’t meant to be behind a mask. He wasn’t meant to order deaths.

How could he have ended up here? How could In-ho have let it happen?

The questions came fast. Too fast to stop.

What didn’t he see? What didn’t he ask? Was Jun-ho already slipping when In-ho thought he was okay? Was Jun-ho alone while he buried himself in work? Did he think In-ho wouldn’t care? That he wouldn’t come for him?

He had promised to protect him.

After the transplant, after their father left, after Yuna died –

He had promised.

But here Jun-ho stood. With blood on his hands and a gun in them.

“Jun-ho, what happened?” In-ho whispered, voice breaking beneath the wind. “Did I – is this my fault?”

Jun-ho didn’t answer. But the pain in his eyes deepened. His grip on the gun shook.

Then – softly. Just one word.

“Hyung.”

And that was worse than anything he could’ve said. Because there was love in it. Grief. Regret.

Jun-ho didn’t want this.

But he saw no other way.

And In-ho, frozen in place, didn’t move. Couldn’t. He didn’t lift his weapon. Didn’t call out. Didn’t plead.

Because maybe – somewhere inside – he believed he deserved it.

The guilt crushed him.

Every time he’d brushed Jun-ho off with “I’m busy.” Every time he’d said “He’s fine – he’s grown now.” Every time he let the silence stretch between them after Yuna died, thinking there’d be time to fix it later.

There wasn’t.

He took one last look at his brother. At the boy he raised. The man he lost.

And then Jun-ho pulled the trigger. The bullet hit his shoulder like fire and lightning.

In-ho stumbled back – off the cliff.

The ocean rose to meet him.

And all he could think, as the world vanished in cold and pain, was: He failed as an older brother. This was his fault. This was always going to be his fault.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ○△□ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

Well... it was 2am when I first answered the ask after I was done with this fic 😂

#hwang brothers #hwang inho #hwang junho #front man junho #hwang jun ho #hwang in ho #junho as the front man #squid game #hwang bros #inho and junho #in ho and jun ho #squid game fanfic #what remains asks

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spicyspiders · 5 months ago

Note

do you write for squidgame?

(I am a bit too neurodivergent and I will forget this if I don’t say it immediately so ima just request here and then you just say no if you don’t actually write for it)

thanos and his ex boyfriend both get into squid game and thanos one night comes up to his bed and gags him to keep him quiet while fucking him while everyone else is asleep (dub-con, there was already A LOT of tension)

I ended up changing this kind of a lot. There isn't any dub con and it's instead more angsty. I hope you still like it.

You didn’t know what surprised you more: the fact that you managed to fall asleep, or waking up to the feel of an arm wrapping around your waist.

“It’s me,” the voice behind you whispered into your ear, their other hand covering your mouth, “it’s me,” it repeated. The arm tightened around your body, holding you down as you tried to thrash out of its grip

It took a few seconds for your brain to finally register who the voice belonged to. Though, once it caught up, you had to keep yourself from sending your elbow back into his ribs.

“Missed you,” Thanos said, his lips pressed to the back of your neck. There was a hint of something in his voice. What it was, you couldn’t pinpoint, but the irrational, tired, and terrified part of your brain thought it might be longing. “You miss me?” Thanos asked.

And yeah, there’s what it was. It being arousal. Making itself known, Thanos pressed his hips forward, grinding the bulge of his cock into the small of your back.

It seemed that tonight would be full of surprises, notably when you felt your body respond to his. You had thought that tonight would be like the others and full of tossing and turning in your bed while trying to to focus on the sound of the other players that surrounded you, not whatever this was.

You were stupid to think this would be easy. The games, yes, but especially when you quickly noticed that Thanos was also competing in them. You had heard rumors that players would be able to earn as much as they could and then leave, giving you hope that you would be the next lucky group in this year’s games that was able to go.

It only took moments into the first game for your fear to set in. You tried to ignore the way it started when Player 456 started yelling. You thought he was just a crazy old man, but your heart knew otherwise. You never wanted to feel the sensation of blood splattering on your face again, but you weren’t sure with how the games were going that you had a choice.

When given the choice, you quickly followed his lead and chose to end the games. Even if they switched the rules and you weren’t going to be paid, you would wear your red badge with pride knowing that you even survived. And if you came to regret it later, so fucking be it, at least you would be alive to do so.

The first time you sided with the players that wanted to end the game, Thanos looked disappointed, but he hid it behind a smile. He shook his head at you when you turned back around, making you roll your eyes. You spent the rest of the voting period running your fingers along the palm that pressed the button, trying to ignore Thanos’ gaze.

You looked up at him once it was his turn, already knowing what he would choose. It was stupid, but there was a smart part of you that hoped he would prove you wrong. He stared daggers into your eyes on the way back to the little group he’s made, a smirk resting on his lips. He made friends easily, something that you couldn’t help but admire about him. Though, you weren’t really sure if the people beside him were his friends. They stared at you too, something that no doubt Thanos put them up to.

You just hoped they weren’t watching now.

“Can’t believe you’re here,” Thanos breathed, his lips moving against the back of your neck. His hands moved to your waist to get you in a better grip, making it so that his cock rested in the cleft of your ass. “Fuckin’ missed you,” he said, grinding forward.

“So you’ve said,” you angrily whispered. You weren’t sure who you were mad at. Thanos or your treacherous body.

You could feel Thanos’ sharp grin before he responded, “don’t be like that, baby,” he said, his teeth nipping at the side of your neck. He sucked at the skin while one of his hands went to cover your mouth again, already knowing he’d need to muffle your moans as he played with the sensitive skin. It was in the perfect spot making it easy to hide with the color of your tracksuit, you had to give Thanos props. “After all,” he panted into the new mark on your neck, “you were never a good liar,” he whispered, his hand making its way to the bulge that tented your pants.

You wrapped a hand around his wrist to yank his hand free from your face, “you’re fucking crazy,” you whispered, biting your lip to keep from groaning with the heel of his palm pressed down into your cock.

“Crazy for you,” Thanos giggled. You wished he could see how hard it made you roll your eyes.

You counted down in your brain, knowing that what you were about to do was rash, and probably would be loud. Here goes nothing, you thought as you rolled back, flipping Thanos over, “are you high,” you asked, straddling the man. You ignored the way the bed creaked as your knees dug into the bed on either side of Thanos’ hips, you instead focused on the way his eyes glittered mischievously, even in the darkness.

“Nah,” Thanos said, his hand on the back of your neck. You could feel the cool metal of the rings he wore on your skin as he pulled you down into a kiss. It was softer than you expected, but that’s how it always started, “wanted to be sober for this.”

You hated how the words sent a warmth rushing through your body, especially knowing that in the long run, this probably wasn’t going to end well for one, or both of you.

“You’re going to get us caught,” you said, Thanos’ lips chasing yours. You gasped into the kiss when his fingers went to your ass, his hands roughly kneading skin through fabric.

“There’s no rule– ah,” Thanos’ words fell off into a moan when you rolled your hips down, “fucking in here.”

“They told you that?” You asked, nipping at Thanos’ lip.

“Just a guess,” Thanos smirked up at you. His hands snuck under the back of your pants and underwear, his warm hands now directly on you.

“Fucking idiot,” you hissed, placing a hand over his mouth, “you never fucking think,” you say, punctuating each word with a grind of your hips. It’s been months since things ended and you remembered like it was yesterday exactly why it ended. He could be stupid, impulsive, and was never one to think things through, which was exactly why you ended it months ago.

Maybe you were bound by some force to end up like this. After all, it was a hell of a coincidence that the same YouTuber that Thanos listened to that got him involved in what ended up being millions of dollars in debt, was also here with you.

In fact, the first time Thanos saw that you were here was after he confronted Player 333. Even in a life or death situation, you still couldn’t get away. Maybe it was time to just give in.

Thanos let out a breathy laugh in between bitten off sounds of pleasure, “you know me,” his hands tightening to the point you knew it was going to leave a bruise.

“Unfortunately,” you responded, rolling over onto your side.

Moments later, Thanos joined you in a similar position, both of your pants and underwear down just enough to get your cocks together.

“Baby,” Thanos said, his hips jerking forward. You shut him up a second later by using his shirt as a gag. The gag made it easy to ignore his voice, but did little to stop the gears in your brain from turning.

As you felt your orgasm build, you wished things were different. Like the pressure that you could feel building at the base of your cock, you could feel a pressure behind your eyes. You slammed your eyes shut, hoping that if you closed your eyes, that would somehow quiet your thoughts.

The pressure behind your eyes became a burn. You desperately wished things were different and that you were back home, away from all of this. You wrapped your arm around Thanos’ hips to bring your bodies closer, close enough that you could hide your face in the crook of his neck.

Your tears fell as your orgasm hit you with a force that stole the breath from your lungs. You bit your lip hard enough that blood spilled down your chin, mixing with the tears that ran from your eyes.

Trying to get yourself back under control, you barely seemed to register when Thanos’ body seized up as he too came undone. He stroked your cocks together in his ringed fingers, and even when it had gotten to the point of overstimulation, you didn’t dare move. You instead moved closer, hoping that somehow he was able to read your mind.

Thanos’ breathing grew louder, but it was only because he pulled his shirt out of his mouth. He grabbed a thin corner of the sheets where it had been ruffled out of place from your movements to wipe you both down, his hands gliding over the sweaty skin on display.

Your tears had dried once he had you both tucked away in your pants, though, the blood was still here.

Thanos leaned forward to press his lips to yours softly, like he was literally trying to kiss your lip better. You responded to the kiss, even if it felt weird. You’d never had such a soft kiss mixed with blood and tears.

“You should probably go back to your bed,” you murmured against his mouth, though your hands betrayed your words as you pulled him closer.

“Kickin’ me out?” Thanos asked with a smile. He pulled away momentarily to grab the blanket, “I’m not letting you go again,” he said as he wrapped himself around you in a familiar embrace.

#x male reader #x male reader smut #thanos x male reader smut #thanos x you #thanos x male reader #thanos x reader

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doki-doki-imagines · 1 year ago

Note

Hello :3 I have an idea for a request.

Mk1 boys (Bi-Han, Kuai liang,tomas, liu kang, kung lao, Raiden, johnny, kenshi, syzoth and shang tsung) with wife pregnant reader (Any month, depending on what you want) wake up in the middle of the night craving something and scared to wake them up Because they are already tired and streets from their work and she start sobbing silently and the boys will wake up , what their reaction will be what will they do?

And what will they do when the reader says something like 'I'm fat I look big'

I know it's random and stupid But I read it from a manhwa and I really liked the idea

Soooo please 🥺🥺🥺

author note: the please with teary eyes got me. Also pregnancy cravings are "only" in the first three months, so reader is in that stage.

Bi-Han:

-He is a light sleeper so he heard your first sigh clearly.

-Bi-Han already doesn’t sleep much so go straight to the point or he’ll just go back to sleep (probably in another room).

-You do, and now he is in the kitchen in the middle of the night preparing milk and cereals.

-“Here you go.” He sits in front of you, eating his own bowl.

“Mh, Bi-han?”

“Could you put ice cubes in my milk?”

-He looks at you like you just said some crazy stuff, but he knows better and just does as you asked him. A happy smile now on your face pulling the corner of his lips upward.

-But then, while you are both enjoying your bowls in silence Bi-Han hears you sniffing again, fat tears rolling down your face.

“Now you’ll leave me because I’m fat and have terrible taste in food.”

-His spoon hangs in the air, mouth still open, hair resembling a bird nest. Bi-Han faces drip with annoyance.

-Then he pushes your spoon in your mouth, icy milk and cereals hitting your tastebuds.

“If you have to open your mouth do it to eat and not to say dumb shit. Now go back to eat, I’d never thought icy milk could taste this good…” He replies, pinching your cheek after you gulped down.

Kuai Liang:

-When he comes home and hears you cry, Liang runs to you worried for both you and the baby.

-“What happened fireball?”

“You were out working and-“

“And??”

“And I’m here crying like a whale because I want some marinated and grilled squid.” You let out in a single breath, before going back to sighing and crying.

-The breath of relief Liang let out moved continents.

-Liang isn’t a great cook, but he knows his way around the grill, so his chefs are lucky that Liang didn’t have to wake them up in the middle of the night.

-He looks at you eating with joy, his face laying on his fist, raising the apple of his cheek up.

-But then you get teary…what is happening?

-“You’ll leave me, right?” You say after you let out a sob.

“No, why?”

“Look at me eating like a pig! I’ll get fat and we won’t have sex anymore!” Tears roll down your face and Liang really doesn’t know what to say.

-“Even if you get fat I’m sure you’d be pretty cute.”

“Okay, then-“ You stand on your feet, chopsticks thrown at the table while Liang looks at you with the widest eyes ever. “Fuck me now!”

-…Liang? Hello? Are you still there?

-He can’t really understand what is going on, but Liang decides not to rack his brain over it, his warm hands already on your hips.

Tomas Vrbada: -He was already awake when you started crying, so he asks immediately what’s wrong.

-“I don’t want to bother you, you always work so hard but-“

“?”

“I want smoked salmon.”

-Ahhh Tomas' first experience with his partner’s cravings.

-He searches in all the fridges of Shirai Ryu but can’t find anything. Tomas is ready to catch a salmon with his teeth like a bear and smoke it himself to make you happy.

-And that’s exactly what Tomas does.

-The sight of him shirtless, mauling a salmon with the moonlight making the water droplets on his chest and back shine…was a sight that sadly nobody witnessed.

-“Tommy this tastes so good, it is so juicy and…fatty.”

Tomas feels the storm coming.

-“You’ll want me even when I’ll become as fat as a salmon?”

Tomas nods and gulps, knowing full well of the doom incoming.

-“Why are you lying?! Men are all the same!”

-If something, seeing his partner belly round with your offspring can just make Tomas hot under the collar. But it’s not like you’ll listen to him.

-He just waits head in hands for this outburst to calm itself, tiredness knocking you out. Tomas hopes sooner rather than later.

Liu Kang:

-You know what is the best part of defending the hourglass? Looking into it to anticipate his partner’s cravings!

-So you’ll never have to cry because Liu Kang is always ready to give you the craziest food ever.

-“Ohh Liu, you really are the best. Always ready to give me the food I crave…” Bad silence, Liu Kang starts to have goosebumps. “I know the game you are playing, bastard!” You push Liu Kang away from your arms, running away from him.

“What are you talking about, dear one?”

“You want to make me fat so you’ll have me all for yourself! You egoist! You selfish bastard!”

-Yeah, Liu Kang is a bit selfish. Yes, he wants you all for himself kilos more or kilos less. But he has to admit that it wasn’t his plan.

-“You are mistaken, dear.”

“Mh??”

“I always want you all for myself.”

“Ah! Even now!?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then take this-“ You finally run back into his arms, lips smashed against his ones. You try to pull him off, but now there is no way that Liu Kang will let you go.

- It’s time to show you how hot he finds you.

Kung Lao:

-Good luck with him because Lao is a heavy sleeper.

-He’ll notice that there is a problem the next morning when you see your puffy and red eyes.

“I didn’t want to bother you, but I had insane cravings last night.”

“Next time wake me up. I don’t mind.” He says hands on your shoulder before going to work.

-So, when the next night you try to wake him up, the need for cabbage stew is making you insane.

-Keyword: try.

-World could end and Lao would still be snoring.

-Next time is better to have cravings during the day because at night you’re on your own.

-Meanwhile, during the day Lao becomes more or less your butler…at least.

Raiden:

-“Hey sweety, don’t cry. What’s wrong?” Raiden turns around to look at you, index finger stroking your wet cheek.

“You must be so tired.”

“Yeah, a little. But I want to listen to you. What’s wrong?”

“I want to eat dango.”

“At this hour?”

“Please, Raiden.”

-He chuckles but lifts himself from the bed. But now Raiden thinks “Where I can find dango at this hour??”

-Raiden has a guardian angel; Madame Bo, with her insomnia problem for once being useful.

-And the lady will be more than happy helping Raiden's pregnant partner to fulfill one of their cravings.

-Not for free, tho…

-You won’t cry about weight with him. Even if your mind is hazed by hormones it still works well enough to know that he’ll always love you.

Johnny Cage:

-Another heavy sleeper, but if you push him around enough he’ll wake up.

-“Ehi babe, what’s wrong.”

“Johnny-“ He hears you sigh and finally wakes up, worried that you may be hurt.

“I’m in the mood for cream and strawberries, but at first I didn’t want to wake you-“

“Shhh babe-“ He presses his index finger on your lips “I’m here to help you.”

-He comes back soon, a cup filled to the brim that makes your eyes shine with joy.

-“Oh look, you have some cream here.”

His thumb brushes the corner of your lips. Then Johnny wanted to lick it, already smiling at his next action.

-But you move faster, your lips circling his thumb and licking it clean.

-Johnny looks at you, doe eyes looking back, your lips on his thumb, your nice and soft body next to him…

-The cup of strawberries will be soon forgotten.

Kenshi Takahashi:

-He comes back home from a mission and hears you crying. Kenshi is terrorized.

-Kenshi already has anxiety about leaving his partner alone at home, pregnant. Hearing you cry made him crumble.

“Are you fine!?”

“Oh, Kenshi!”

You run to him and hug his middle, he keeps you tight in his arms.

-“Please tell me, what happened!?”

“I’m sorry I don’t want to worry you. It’s nothing serious.”

Kenshi still isn’t calm.

“I just have a crazy craving for takoyaki with honey.”

Okay, his breath is calming down.

-He just returned home, every muscle screaming in pain, but for his partner, he’d do that and much more.

-Thankfully you always liked takoyaki so Kenshi had some ingredients at home, the others got bought in a nearby combini.

“Kenshi you are a real life saver.”

“It’s just my job.” He replies kissing the crown of your head, hands sliding down to massage your tummy.

“But next time just tell me you had a craving, I lost some years of my life.”

-Are those sniffs he is hearing? Oh no…

“I-I’m so sorry Kenshi-“

-He’ll never get used to mood swings.

Syzoth:

-His wife didn’t suffer from cravings, but Syzoth is ready for anything.

-Syzoth more or less always knows when your hormones are gonna hit, so he tries to put limit the incoming “damage”.

-The real problem is that Syzoth doesn’t know anything about human food! You are on your own. Ask your friends, you will have better luck.

-“You search for someone else when I’ll get fat, I know it!”

“You just want to knock me up!”

Syzoth knows your mind isn’t working well, hormones going crazy.

-But he also knows how to calm you down!

“I’d love you even if you became a worm, firefly.”

“The idea of you carrying our baby always fills me with joy.”

-Syzoth will also become more touchy-feely, his hands like to wander…

-Unless you get a crazy mood swing you’ll never doubt his love for you.

Shang Tsung:

-The diva won’t stop being a diva even if now you are pregnant and need his help.

-“Shang Tsung, please can you bring me orange juice.” You sob out, finally giving in into your cravings.

“I also want to conquer the world, but nobody will do it for me.” He replies back, eyes still closed.

-He gives in at the nth sigh. Shang Tsung may not be so unaffected by you.

-He returns soon, a glass filled with orange juice. But he doesn’t sit next to you.

“Anything else before I go back to sleep? You know I don’t like my sleep time being interrupted.”

“No Shang Tung, thank you.”

-He sighs and lies down, you soon follow him.

-“You don’t love me anymore, right?”

A heavy breath leaves his nose.

Damn you.

-“Are you trying to make me laugh? We both know who is the good liar here.”

“That’s why you may not love me. You lied the entire time!”

-Shang Tsung isn’t ready for this conversation.

-His lips end on yours, tongue intruding into your mouth, a moan escapes your throat.

-You may not trust his words, but Shang Tsung hopes he’ll fuck you good enough that his emotions will be understandable through your thick skull.

Bonus:

Tell us about the manwha!

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waterfae · 7 months ago

Text

A Good Pillow [Part 7]

Summary: A glimpse of your budding friendship with Ominis and your growing feelings after the events in the Scriptorium.

Pairings: Ominis Gaunt x Reader, Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Warnings: canon-typical violence, mild language, angst, comfort, fluff, friends-to-lovers, unhinged Slytherins, complicated relationships, house-neutral fem!reader, no use of Y/N, no beta

Word Count: 1.9+ K

Part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

|| General Masterlist || Hogwarts Legacy Masterlist ||

Fresh fallen snow blanketed the school grounds and it crunched beneath your feet as you made your way towards the north exit. The weekend had finally arrived and after the long week you had been having, you were glad to have some time away from the castle, even for just a few hours, to go do normal teenage things. It had grown so stifling inside those walls with all your varying responsibilities, ranging from your schoolwork to your activities with the keepers and Professor Fig, and of course, the drama with Sebastian.

You tried to keep Imelda’s advice in mind. Be honest and keep it simple, she had said, but Merlin, why was it so difficult? You wrote out rough drafts of letters, practiced in front of mirrors, even subjected poor Deek to sit through various monologues, but it all sounded so ridiculous. Everything you thought of saying to your poor friend sounded utterly stupid. It made you want to stab your brain repeatedly with a quill. Why was it so hard to convey your honest feelings towards him? Fighting and magicking your way out of things appeared to come more naturally to you; you were beginning to think facing Ranrok might be easier than facing Sebastian. So you attempted a different approach for the time being: avoidance. You made sure that you were never alone when Sebastian was around, lest he try to corner you once more; always surrounded by friends and fellow classmates in hallways, studying in the library, or walking to class or the Great Hall. As soon as news of a Hogsmeade trip was being scheduled, you immediately jumped up at the chance for an excuse to simply get out.

And get out, you did. An afternoon of butterbeer with friends at the Three Broomsticks had been the planned activity, but your desire for reprieve was so strong it led you to decide that the best option would be to head out much earlier and pass the time near the lake.

You picked up a small rock and, with no particular target in mind, tossed it across the water. It landed with a kerplunk.

“Not sure if the giant squid would appreciate that.” A voice suddenly said from behind you.

You jumped at the sound and turned to find Ominis slowly making his way towards you, the red glow of his wand heavily contrasting against the white snow all around. You allowed a small smile to grace your features, realizing who had spoken, “Ominis Gaunt, are you following me?”

He let out a chuckle, “Initially, no. I was on my way to Hogsmeade when I heard from Leander that he had seen you come this way by yourself.” You nodded at his explanation as he continued, “I thought, perhaps, it would be nice to keep you company.” He paused for a second, then continued hesitantly, “I’m not intruding on anything, am I?”

“No, no! Of course not.” You waved your hands in protest, “Honestly, I’m just here to waste time. I’m not meeting the others for another couple of hours.” You gestured around you, knowing full well he couldn’t really see what you were gesturing at, “I just thought it would be nice out here. You know, being cooped up in the castle all week. Freshly fallen snow...crisp fresh air...a beautiful view of the lake.”

“Not as beautiful as you, I’m sure.” He said with a smile.

You laughed, finding it hard to believe that he was attempting to use flattery on you right now, “Ominis, how could you say that? You haven’t even seen me.”

“I don’t need to, darling. I can feel it radiating from you whenever we’re together.”

You stopped laughing abruptly and stared at him, his words striking at your heart and making your cheeks burn, “Ominis, stop it.” You bit your lip, “You’re making me blush.”

“Am I?” He smirked as he took a few more steps towards you. He pocketed his wand and removed his gloves, then reached up with his two hands and placed them on both of your cheeks, “Hm, I suppose you do feel a bit warm.” He dropped his hands down to your shoulders, “Not quite warm enough though.”

You gave him a quizzical look, but before you could question him, he had already reached around his neck to unwrap his scarf. Slowly, he transferred it onto you, wrapping it around your neck. Your heart thumped aggressively in your chest as he worked, so close to you now with his lips at the level of your eyes. He wrapped it around a second time to secure its placement.

“There.” He lightly tugged at the ends, “I’m sure you look even more beautiful in Slytherin green.”

You fingered the scarf now on your neck, you could smell him on it and your cheeks burned even hotter, you were practically feverish, “What about you? Aren’t you cold?” You secretly hoped he’d never ask for it back.

“It’s fine. This way, I can keep making you blush.” He brushed a cheek with his thumb, “You can use it to hide behind.”

You bit your lip again to keep you from squealing at his actions and the words he was saying; you were sure you’d implode if you didn’t keep your emotions in check. After a few moments, you were ready to make another comment, when he suddenly gave the scarf another tug, cutting off your thoughts and causing you to stumble slightly towards him, “I’m also hoping,” he began to lean forward, “that seeing my scarf around your neck,” his lips were at your ear now, “will deter others from trying to steal your kisses from me.”

Your mouth fell open and gasped.

He knew.

But of course he knew, you thought, mentally smacking yourself. Sebastian and Ominis could barely call each other friends at this point, but they were still in the same house together. They still shared a dormitory. They slept together, ate together...lived together. Of course he would know. And if he didn’t, he would have surely found out eventually. Even if you did try to hide it.

“You have to know, it was nothing.” You could feel the panic begin to sink in with your realization, you wanted to make sure he didn’t have the wrong idea. You kept it from Ominis, yes, but not out maliciousness, “I didn’t even kiss him back!”

Ominis pulled himself back and laughed, “Relax. I’m aware.” He let go of the scarf and took your hands in his, “Admittedly, I was a bit...peeved when I first heard of it, jealous even. But gauging from his reaction,” he brought your hands up to his lips and gave quick pecks on each, “I surmised that it didn’t go quite as well as it did for me.” He gave another smirk, “Which, I must say, gave me quite the ego boost. Not that I ever had any doubt.” He lightly squeezed your hands and brushed his thumbs over your knuckles, “I know we’ve never talked about it directly, but I’m quite confident in our feelings for each other. Am I mistaken?”

You inhaled deeply, your mind whizzing, working overtime as it processed what Ominis had just conveyed. Every nerve in your body seemed to be sending off sparks as it all began to sink in and it filled you with excitement. You shook your head, “No, not at all.”

“Good.”

He guided your hands to his shoulders and when he was satisfied with you resting on them, he gently slid his down to your waist. Your breath hitched and you felt your heart start to race when his hold tightened and pulled you closer.

“May I?” He asked softly, already so close that his nose grazed against yours.

Slowly, you allowed the lids of your eyes to fall as you whispered back, “Yes.”

His warm lips lightly brushed against your own and you let the breath you had been holding out through your nose. This, you thought, this was a kiss you could reciprocate. The tension you had felt earlier evaporated as your arms wound tighter around his shoulders and he wrapped his around your waist, closing the gap between you.

Ominis grew bold, leaving you with more and more open mouthed kisses, ones you returned fervently. It was different from the ones he had given you previously in that corridor, he had been soft and gentle then. This one felt more...heated as it continued. Even with your eyes closed, the world around you felt as though it were spinning wildly. One of his hands had snaked up to cradle the back of your head as he deepened the kiss, holding your body tightly against his and a sound you didn’t realize you could make emitted from you. You pulled back from the shock.

“Sorry.” You said shakily as you panted. You didn’t mean to break the kiss; you were very much enjoying it, but the moan that you had released had caught you off guard as soon as you heard it. Had Ominis truly just pulled such a lewd response out of your body? What else could this young man make you do, you wondered. The thought set a fire throughout your body.

Ominis shook his head before leaning his forehead against yours, also out of breath, “Don’t be. I won’t ever ask for more than you are willing; no pressure. He continued to cradle your head affectionately, fingers entangling themselves in your hair, "My wish is for you to have a safe place with me, not to add to your burdens.”

“Oh, Ominis.” You whispered, leaning against him once more and resting your head on his shoulder, “I do feel safe with you.” Your hands slid down to his chest, gripping the fabric of his cloak, “Your presence is always so comforting.”

He smiled and moved to leave a kiss on your forehead, “I’m glad to hear it.”

How long you stayed in each others embrace, you weren’t sure – basking in the warmth and gentle caresses, whispering promises and sweet nothings. It took every ounce of effort to finally pull yourselves apart and make the trek back up the road to Hogsmeade where your friends would be waiting. You half-jokingly asked if you should even still go. Ominis merely ruffled your hair and took your arm, laughing as he dragged you along the path.

When the two of you arrived to the Three Broomsticks, arm in arm, the table erupted in a mixture of applause and groans, causing both of you to blush. Leander had thrown his arms up in defeat (as if he had a fighting chance, Garreth would later comment). Everett and Natty were still unnerved by Ominis’s presence, but had the decency to not make a show of it. Poppy smiled brightly. Samantha’s jaw dropped, but said nothing. Violet was left a giggling mess. Imelda was the one that had risen from her seat and walked over to the pair of you, slow clapping as she did so.

“Bravo.” She said with a smirk and a knowing glint in her eye as she reached up to play with the Slytherin scarf still hanging around your neck, “Well done.”

The act unnerved you slightly, causing you to stiffen and grip Ominis’s arm tighter, because you knew that behind it was the unasked question: Have you told Sallow yet?

The expression on your face must have given her the answer; apprehension darted across her features and you both knew exactly what the other was thinking: there would be no avoiding the issue after this. If you didn’t talk to Sebastian, the gossips of the Hogwarts student body would. Either way, it was not going to look good. You simply had to choose the lesser evil.

a/n: Enjoy! ( ੭ ˘ ³˘)੭°｡⋆♡‧₊˚

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated and my askbox is always open. ♡

taglist: @cherry-cola-100 @moonsickness-posts @superblyspeedydragon @plumzlovesfics @costellation-hunter

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy x reader #hogwarts legacy fanfic #🧚🏻‍♀️࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟfaefic

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niniwritesxo · 5 months ago

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ahhhhh i love ur fics sm!! ur such an amazing writer! if ur taking requests could u do something w roh jae won and reader crushing on eachother on the squid game set? have a good one !! ❤️❤️

‘you told me last night’

hope you like it !

꩜ —————————————————————————

filming squid game season 2 was already intense, but dealing with a growing crush on roh jae-won? that was a whole different kind of high-stakes game.

it had started small, things like stolen glances, playful teasing, the way his laughter always seemed to linger in your ears longer than anyone else’s. but lately, it had escalated. the late-night rehearsals, the dramatic tension during scenes, the accidental touches that sent electricity through your veins, it was becoming unbearable.

꩜ .ᐟ ————

“again?” you groaned, stretching your arms over your head. the entire set was nearly empty except for a few lingering staff members. the two of you had volunteered (or rather, been forced) to stay late and rehearse an upcoming emotionally charged scene.

“you’re the one who kept messing up,” jae-won teased, tossing you a water bottle.

“oh, excuse me, mr. perfect actor. maybe if you didn’t keep staring at me like that, i wouldn’t forget my lines.”

his eyes widened slightly, and for a second, he looked caught, like he hadn’t realized just how obvious he’d been. but then he grinned, leaning in slightly. “like what?”

your heart nearly stopped. was he actually flirting back?

“you know what,” you muttered, turning away, trying to pretend your face wasn’t burning.

jae-won chuckled, but instead of pushing further, he exhaled and straightened. “okay, let’s be serious, one more take.”

the scene required raw emotion, desperation, anger, and heartbreak. and somehow, despite your mutual teasing, when the cameras weren’t rolling, jae-won had a way of locking eyes with you that made it terrifyingly real.

by the time you finished, the room was silent. the tension was so thick you could almost touch it.

“that was… intense,” you breathed out.

jae-won didn’t answer right away. he just looked at you, his gaze flickering to your lips for the briefest second before he shook his head with a soft laugh. “yeah. you’re good.”

did he almost say something else?

you’d never know, because at that exact moment, yim si-wan (one of the senior cast members) poked his head in. “you two still here? wow, the dedication.”

you and jae-won jumped apart like you’d been caught doing something illegal.

si-wan raised an eyebrow. “uh-huh. well, don’t stay too late, lovebirds.”

you spluttered. “we’re not—”

“okay, okay, scene partners.” si-wan winked before leaving.

you risked a glance at jae-won, who simply rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you.

꩜ .ᐟ ————

days later, during a break, you were lounging around with kang ha-neul and lee jin-wook, waiting for the next scene to be set up. the conversation had somehow drifted into embarrassing crush stories.

“oh, I have a good one,” ha-neul said, leaning forward with a smirk. “i once confessed to someone by accident because I was sleep-deprived. full-on I love you situation. worst part? they thought I was joking.”

you laughed. “that’s horrible. imagine confessing by accident. couldn’t be me.”

“you sure?” ha-neul teased. “i feel like that’s exactly how you’d do it.”

“no way.”

“actually…” jae-won’s voice cut in from behind you. “you kinda already did.”

silence.

your entire body went stiff. slowly, you turned to face him. “what?”

jae-won crossed his arms, lips twitching like he was trying not to smirk. “you told me you liked me last night.”

the room erupted.

“omg, y/n?.” Jin-Wook nearly choked on his drink.

ha-neul looked at you like you’d just given him the juiciest gossip of the year. “wait when?!”

your brain short-circuited. “that’s a lie.”

“nope.” jae-won looked far too amused. “you were half-asleep, though. i think you thought I was a dream or something.”

tou groaned, burying your face in your hands as the others howled with laughter. but through your fingers, you peeked at jae-won

his expression was different now, softer, almost… hopeful?

“don’t worry,” he said, just loud enough for only you to hear. ‘‘i like you too.”

you almost stopped breathing.

but before you could say anything, the director called, “alright, back on set!”

jae-won winked at you before walking off, leaving you stunned, blushing, and fully aware that this wasn’t just a crush anymore.

꩜ .ᐟ ————————————————————————

hope you enjoyed it!

(english is not my first language so my apologies for any mistakes i may have made)

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fliexx · 5 months ago

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Thangyu :D

——————————————————————

MLM

werewolf au

Squid game never happened

Se-mi best girly

Se-mi smokes cigarettes

Jealous Thanos of Min su

Min su being dragged into drama

Suggestive / smut later 😏

Friends to lovers

Roommates but they sleep in the same bed ( totally makes sense :)

Namgyu knows about wearwolf Thanos

Thanos can retract his ears and tail

——————————————————————

“ ah—OH! and then Min-su started talking about some bullsh*t like I’m ‘too clingy,’ like—WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?? I hate his guts man..but then he gave me some cookies so I kinda forgave him. I mean, what else do you do when you get food as an apology gift? After that, me and Min-su. . .”

Thanos never thought he’d feel so possessive of his ‘best friend’ until now.

Namgyu’s rambling went on to deaf ears as Thanos drifted into thought. For someone Namgyu supposedly “hates”, he talks about him a whole lot. It was pissing him off at this point. Every other topic, Min-su this, Min-su that—but Thanos tried to ignore it. instead, he focused on what Nam-Gyu’s hand was currently doing; scratching behind Thanos’s ear.

Nam-Gyu’s body tangled with his, Thanos arms wrapped around his waist as he subconsciously pulled the other closer. He noticed that Nam-Gyu managed to keep his sweater sleeves up closer to his knuckles even while giving Thanos’ affection. His constant sweater paws itched a scratch right in his brain.

Nam-Gyu’s warm breath hitting Thanos’s sensitive furry ear while he absentmindedly rambles off, it all made it even harder to pay much attention to what he was saying, the other man’s hands occasionally pitching Thanos’s neck when he notices the unfocused expression on his face.

With how close the two of them are, Thanos mind drifts to certain moment Nam-Gyu talked about earlier.

Sh*t, what time is it? It’s probably midnight…no doubt a full moon. A horrible time for a werewolf to be out and about.

And yet, here Thanos was, carried away partying and getting high with Nam-Gyu all night—which was partly interrupted a few times due to Thanos growling at anyone he saw as a threat or someone getting too close to his best friend. It wasn’t like it was a problem to the best friend in question, Nam-Gyu egging him on to go fight or kill someone. He was too high to actually understand what he was saying in the moment.

While walking (stumbling) back to their apartment, they spotted Min-su and Se-mi walking in their direction. Thanos wasn’t surprised. he smelled them before they came into view. He was too hammered to alert Nam-Gyu, so as soon as the shorter male saw them, he ran and gave Min-su and Se-mi (mostly Min-Su) a bear hug.

“OMG—MIN-SU, SE-MI! I HAVEN’T SEEN YOU GUY IN FOREVER! OH MY GOD, YOU WONT BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED AT THE CLUB TONIGHT—SO . . .” Nam-Gyu began to loudly ramble, retelling what had transpired beforehand. he didn’t notice Se-mi as she moved to stand by Thanos.

The way Nam-Gyu clinged to Min-su, tangling their arms together, casually closing off distance between their faces, acting like Thanos wasn’t there…it was starting to irk him. Thanos glared at Min-su the same way he glared at the men who had tried hitting on Nam-Gyu in the club. They were either dead or close enough to it.

Thanos struggled to keep his ears and tail from revealing themselves in public. He didn’t care about it that much, having already done so in a club crowd, but Nam-Gyu was worried about a bystander seeing him, so he kept it under wraps.

“WHAT’S TOO CLINGY? WHAT’S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN BI- wait is that a cookie? is it laced? Thanks Mi-suuu~”

Se-mi watched as Mi-su tried to bribe Nam-Gyu off of him with snacks (which worked,) she noticed Thanos glaring daggers at the two of them—mostly Min-Su—with his hands balled into unconscious fists. Se-Mi smoked her cigarette before calling out to Nam-Gyu.

“ HEY Nam-Gyu! Looks like your dog’s got a problem with you being so touchy , shouldn’t you take him home to cheer him up?” Se-mi chuckled at the thought of calling Thanos a ‘dog,’ but it seemed Thanos didn’t find the humor in it, turning his deadly gaze towards the woman instead.

Se-Mi held her hands up in defense, just in time for Nam-Gyu to come over and save the day (night?).

“ Aww…is my puppy jealous of little old Min-Su? you don’t have to be..C’mon, we can go home!” He cooed. While he dragged his werewolf boy away, Thanos was to flushed to notice Nam-Gyu sneaking a pill or two from Thanos’s cross necklace.

That whole ordeal led to Nam-Gyu coddling Thanos the whole way home, making out in the doorway of their apartment, exchanging a plethora of kisses and hickeys on the couch, grinding against each other on the kitchen counter, and finally cuddling in Thanos’ bed.

Well—their bed, as Namgyu has been sleeping there for months, only going into his room for clothes and time to cool down after an argument with his ‘best friend’, which hardly happens.

Thanos had started to focus on the scent emitting from Nam-Gyu rather than the situation with Min-Su and Se-Mi. He smelt like a cross of roses and underlying weed. Not overwhelmingly, but just enough to calm Thanos’ senses.

Namgyu gently held Thanos’ chin in between his fingers, turning his face up and using his thumb to part his lips. He pressed a pill on Thanos’ tongue, much to the other man’s contentment.

“Does my puppy feel better?” Nam-Gyu asked, his tone almost belittling. And yet, it brought butterflies to Thanos’ stomach, the way he spoke without a care in the world about what that nickname does to him.

How his smile always looked so sheepish. How his eyes were lidded, how he pulled his sleeves down until only his fingers showed. how he shivered a bit because of the cold temperature of their apartment.

Thanos eyes scanned every detail, everything itching into his brain until he couldn’t take it anymore. Thanos pinned Nam-Gyu to the bed, cutting off the man’s surprised gasp with a rough kiss. He couldn’t help but growl whenever he heard whimpers leave the other.

Nam-Gyu wasn’t sure where the sudden aggression had come from, but he was doing anything but complaining.

“Ngh .. Su-Bong—“ He whined out. Hearing Nam-Gyu call him by his name flipped a switch that he wasn’t aware existed. Thanos’ growled before biting into Nam-Gyu’s neck, earning a shameless moan in return. He was being really loud, but neither of them cared enough to stop.

While he continued his assault on the smaller man’s neck, his tail thumped against the bedsheets. He couldn’t help the animalistic sounds that left his own mouth every time he felt the vibrations of Nam-Gyu’s whimpers.

——————————————————————

Got Lazy :0

BETA EDITED !!!! -@jarijarii

#thangyu #nam gyu #boyfents #player 124 #player 230 #mlm #they were roommates #they were so cute #ahhhhhhhhhhhh #XD #squid game

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fritterbat · 1 year ago

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Y'all seemed to be enthusiastic about my Tav when I posted art of her smooching Gale so I thought I'd share my full character design for her too! (I changed her color scheme since that previous art anyway) Here's my problematic weirdo squid girl, illithid Tavs forever 🦑

She actually neither went through ceremorphosis nor romanced Gale in-game, those are both part of my post-game storyline haha... she missed her half-illithid powers so much that after tying up some loose ends back home in Menzoberranzan and being accepted to join the Society of Brilliance, she asked the Emperor to tadpole her again so she could become a mind flayer. Her current project is working with Omeluum to create a substitute food source for illithids so they don't have to consume brains.

few more pics of her and some further nattering under the cut ->

here's what she looks like without clothes (that sounds so spicy. it's a mind flayer it's got no visible bits) and what she looked like in-game! I always used the Bloody Plum dye for her clothing while I was playing, but somehow landed on dark teals instead for her future self

Vennet's my first Tav and I played the game mostly blind so I didn't know what her arc would be going in, but I've developed her a lot over time. I had originally meant to romance Astarion but she ended up being... not the right person for him, and I had to break off their relationship bc I couldn't imagine it being anything other than a toxic disaster LOL, but at that point I was too far in the game to start anything with anybody else and she'd already rejected Gale's love confession...!

so I just ended the game with No Bosom Companion 😔 but as I was later thinking about my future storyline for her and decided she becomes a mind flayer after all, I suddenly realized that she'd be perfect for Gale. So she falls in love with him post-game (and post-tentacles!) and they have got some Issues to work through but eventually it's cute :3 (I'm maybe trying to write a fanfic about their romance, watch this space 👀)

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 tav #illithid tav #drow tav #bg3 oc #honestly I've never had a proper OC that I put this much thought into before and I'm having a blast with it #like damn did u know you're allowed to just make up a guy and get obsessed with them?? yall heard about this??? lmao #oc: vennet

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blessedbucky · 9 months ago

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ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕍

pairing: autistic!satoru x suguru x autistic!reader

word count: 12k (oh hey look this one is actually shorter than the last)

summary: that second year of high school has a clear division within your mind—before summer and after. this is the after.

tags: autistic!reader, autistic!satoru, bisexual!reader, bisexual!suguru, continuing the existential crisis of realizing a bunch of old dudes poorly control the future of your teenage life, hidden inventory angst, mayhaps some poor coping mechanisms, maybe some codependency

beautiful people who asked to be tagged 💕: @ichikanu, @iceheartsice, @anders-is-being-a-simp-again, @honeydew-cheesecake

author note: HIDDEN INVENTORY TIME! also, putting on full blast a couple of common things with autism—strong sense of justice and a love of routines! the next year will most likely be split up again because i have so many plans and most of them aren't good! we do be talking about JJK here. please like, reblog, and comment! it makes my heart flutter!

Story Masterlist

[YEAR TWO.]

[PART II]

At the bottom of the mountain path that leads up to campus, you’re seated on a bench. You were here alone as you waited on the car to pick you up, but Satoru and Suguru showed up. They detail the specifics of the incredibly important mission personally assigned to them by Lord Tengen. The more they reveal to you about this, the more anxious you become, the bigger the cloud of dread over your head grows. Your nervousness is made apparently by the way you nervously spin your cell phone between your fingers.

There’s so much about this that you hate. It’s too big. It truly is the weight of the world on their shoulders—the jujutsu world. It isn’t right that they’re being entrusted with something that could change the course of every sorcerer’s life. Shouldn’t that kind of pressure be left to a more experienced sorcerer? This is the work of adults.

Another thing that’s been bothering you…

“Erase?”

Satoru and Suguru are standing in front of you, most likely too nervous to sit still. You’re glad that they’re not blinded by their ego and seem genuinely troubled. Satoru is nervous, though he’d never admit to such a thing. He rocks on his feet from side to side. Coins jingle as he tosses them up in the air and catches them.

Suguru has his arms crossed over his chest, frowning. “Yes,” he confirms quietly. “When the Star Plasma Vessel fully assimilates with Lord Tengen, there will be nothing left of her.”

“That…” You duck your head to hide the sadness that you know is written all over your face. It doesn’t matter how you feel. You are a sorcerer, and this is no time to be soft. At the cost of one life, Lord Tengen will continue to live, sound of mind, and all the barriers that keep sorcerers safe will remain intact. “That seems cruel,” you blurt.

“So…what do you want us to do?” Satoru suddenly asks.

Your head snaps up, attention back on them, blinking in shock. “Huh?”

Instead of Satoru, it’s Suguru that repeats, “What do you want us to do? That’s why we came to you.”

Your brain stutters over their words, unable to process the things they’re saying to you. You sit there, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “What…what does that even mean?” You press your thumb to the center of your forehead. Stop when you realize you’re copying Suguru. “Why do you want to know my opinion? What does it matter? What I’ve got to say means nothing.”

“What a silly thing to say, Squid,” Suguru scolds. “Your opinion means everything.”

With a little more thought, a little more looking between them and studying them, you finally understand where this is all coming from and where it’s all going. There’s an air about them, more to their nervousness than just stress over the weight on their shoulders. “You want to do something really stupid,” you sigh, “and you want me to give my blessing which also makes me an accomplice.”

“Accomplice is such a dirty word.” Satoru pouts. “Is it illegal to get some advice from our best friend?”

If it was Shoko here, she’d already be walking away. Unfortunately, you care about these assholes. “What stupid thing are you planning to do?”

“Nothing yet,” Satoru answers vaguely.

You ignore him in favor of Suguru. If you need to pout, you will, and he’ll cave because you hardly ever bring it out. “Satoru is right, technically. The decision won’t be up to us. Satoru just asked a logical question—what if the Star Plasma Vessel doesn’t go through with the assimilation?”

“You know what would happen,” you point out flatly.

Satoru pipes up with, “We don’t know that for sure!” You stare at him, deadpan. He gets all huffy because you didn’t just simply accept that. “Look, the world always has a way of balancing itself out. If this person doesn’t want to assimilate with Tengen, then someone else will eventually come along that does want to. Tengen will be fine.”

“Let’s say this girl doesn’t want to go through with the assimilation, what will you do then? Are you going to protect her for the rest of her life? They’ll send every sorcerer after her. You might even have to fight Lord Tengen himself. They’ll label you as curse users—”

“Will they?” The ego is back in play because Satoru declares, “We’re the strongest.”

Suguru tries to soften the severity of this stupid plan by explaining, “We’re too valuable as sorcerers. We’d be severely punished, maybe, but I doubt it. The girl has a caretaker with her, so we can cover them while they make themselves disappear.”

You throw up your arms in frustration. “Why did you even ask me, then? You’ve clearly made up your minds!”

“Yeah, okay, you’re right,” Satoru admits while rubbing the back of his neck.

“Believe it or not, we’ve actually thought about this more than you think we have,” Suguru tells you. “Everything you said is true. We know there’s a possibility that they do actually banish us and declare us as curse users. There’s a chance that we won’t come back—”

“But we don’t want to lose you!” Satoru interrupts. He’s a little too enthusiastic about this prospect because he goes on to excitedly ask, “If we leave, will you run away with us?”

The answer is out of your mouth before you can even give it a second thought. “You know I will.”

There’s a little part of your brain that reasons you should’ve taken more time to think about this, but the bigger part of your brain knows that the answer wouldn’t change. Somehow, that was the easiest yet most difficult answer in the world. No matter which option you chose, there would be a huge shift in your life, so it boils down to what would be easier to accept. If you were to stay behind like a good sorcerer, you would have to find a way to live normally without two of the most important people in your life and that…

The thought of not having Suguru or Satoru in your life is so terrifying that it makes you physically ill.

You’ve started to spiral. It’s not until a hand comes in view and yanks on the string of your hooded sweatshirt that you’re pulled out of your darkening thoughts. When you tilt your head up, Satoru is towering above you, smiling with such a genuineness that it makes your heart hurt.

“Don’t worry. It’ll all work out,” Satoru tries to assure you.

Your voice is weak, shaky. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

It’s either to make you feel better or lighten your mood, but Satoru holds out a crooked pinky. You lock it with your own. Then, to be cheeky, he extends his other pinky to Suguru. “A pinky promise? That’s childish, even for you, Satoru.” But Suguru takes it. And maybe you’re taking this a little too seriously, but you also offer your other hand to Suguru. His expression softens before he’s taking it.

In the end, the three of you are making a promise to each other.

“See?” Satoru grins. “It’s a super promise.”

“Okay,” you accept quietly. “Be safe, then. I’ll see you in a few days.”

Gojo Satoru is…

…was a fucking liar.

Just as you’ve coaxed the cursed spirit into exorcising itself, Kusakabe’s cell phone rings. He’s been off to the side, insistent to see your cursed technique for himself. Remembering that Sensei said Kusakabe could potentially be the person to vouch for you to become Grade 1, you bowed and did as he asked.

Anyway, the call.

As you approach him, you see him rush through many emotions at once—panic, anger, relief, and resignation. When his gaze darts over to you, he looks at you with a sympathy that makes your stomach start twisting into knots. On instinct, you pull your phone out to check for any texts, but there’s been nothing since Suguru said that he was on a plane back to Tokyo with the Star Plasma Vessel.

Kusakabe calls out your name, gesturing for you to pick up the pace. When you stand across from him, you shift nervously, clutching tightly at your sketchbook. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry,” Kusakabe starts with a soft apology. He takes a step toward you, putting a hand on your shoulder. “There’s been an incident at the school…” You wait on the news with bated breath. It’s bad. It has to be bad, your brain reasons, because you’ve learned Kusakabe is a naturally reserved person. He doesn’t seem like the type to show sympathy so easily unless it’s really, really bad.

“Gojo Satoru is dead.”

The sketchbook lands in the puddle at your feet as you drop everything and run.

You never leave Suguru’s side.

Apparently, he was found outside the Tombs of the Star Corridor—the place Lord Tengen lives. The wounds went deep, needed to be stitched. The medical staff at the infirmary said it was a shock that he hadn’t bled out.

When Shoko returns from Kyoto and clears the medical staff out, she curses their shoddy stitch work. That irritation is turned on you because you refuse to let go of his hand and she snaps at you, but you won’t budge. She harshly tells you to make yourself useful, so you help her remove the top half of his gown. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and you have to quickly look away when the red, jagged slices across his chest are revealed to you both.

“That’s going to scar,” Shoko mumbles as she glides her hands over his chest. You’re so close that you’re in her crossfire and the aches and exhaustion from keeping vigil fade away. “Where is…” Her hands, glowing white with her technique, clench. “Did they say where they put him?”

It takes you a few minutes of swallowing down grief before you answer, “They said his body is missing.”

“Yeah,” she agrees hoarsely. “Yeah, that makes sense. That idiot always bragged about the bounties on his head.”

“Or…or maybe…maybe he’s…”

Shoko knows what you’re going to say before you even say it. “I walked past where it happened,” she explains lowly. “Duck, I’m sorry, but there’s no way he came out of that alive.” She powers down her technique. You assume there wasn’t that much damage and he’s been unconscious so long because of some painkillers the medical staff gave him. “They found the Star Plasma Vessel’s caretaker. I’m going to examine her body. See if there are any clues that can lead us to whoever has his body.”

You know you’re in denial. Logically, if he was alive, he would be here, in the infirmary. But…you can’t accept it. You just can’t. “I’m going to find him,” you swear.

“What are you going to do against someone that killed Gojo Satoru?”

You remember the finger of Ryomen Sukuna. The cursed energy that touched you. “I’ll make him tear his own heart out,” you say furiously.

“You’ll give yourself an aneurysm, if you could do it at all.” Shoko puts her hand on the top of your head. “Don’t make us lose another friend today.” You cover your mouth to muffle a sob. She reels you in, so your face is squished against her chest. “There was nothing we could do. We have to accept that.” She bends over and presses a kiss to the top of your head. “This is our life now. It’s what we chose when we became sorcerers.”

But why does it have to be like this?

It doesn’t take much longer before Suguru is waking up.

You have to help him when he tries to sit up and sways too much to the side. The drugs are still lingering in his system, so you nervously watch as he blinks slowly and tries to process. You don’t want to overwhelm him, but you also want to comfort him, so you compromise by reaching out to take his hand and squeeze tight. That simple gesture holds his attention. There’s something about it…or maybe he’s remembering everything that happened before…

Suguru’s expression doesn’t change, but tears begin to trickle down his cheeks.

You practically drag him forward by the front of his hospital gown, desperate to get your arms around him. “I’m here,” you promise as your own tears begin to fall again. “Suguru, I’m here.” His arms lock around your waist. His quiet, hitching breaths are in your ear, and his shoulders are subtly shaking under your arms.

“I failed, Squid,” he chokes out.

It never should’ve been put on you, you want to say but what point is there in that anymore? It doesn’t change the fact that it happened and Suguru was the only one left behind. We can’t save everyone. Empty words. Strength has cushioned you all from the realities of sorcery. Suguru has been told that he’s the strongest practically since you two came to Tokyo. He’s not supposed to lose.

Satoru wasn’t supposed to die.

“I’m here,” you repeat because it’s the only thing that you can think to say.

Now that he’s completely healed and the painkillers have worn off, there’s no more reason to keep Suguru in the infirmary. And when no one is around, he admits that he wants to be left alone in his room. You can tell yourself that you’re terrified to leave him by himself, but, deep down, you know it’s that you’re scared he’ll disappear if you don’t stay with him. This is all somehow so surreal yet so viscerally true. Simultaneously dream-like and so real. Like a child, you want to cling to him. Have you not lost enough already?

The two of you walk out of the infirmary, hand-in-hand. At the sight of Sensei waiting, you puff up like a street cat. You sidestep and put yourself in front of Suguru, flashing your metaphorical teeth and hissing. “Get out of the way.”

Suguru and Sensei both sigh your name. You don’t back down. Just square your chin. “The campus is still covered in fly heads.”

“Go exorcise them, then. You can make more cursed corpses.”

“I’m not here to ask Suguru to handle it,” Sensei gently corrects your assumption. “I agree with you. Suguru should rest.”

You relax a little. “Oh.”

“It would be easier if you can exorcise them all at once.” Sensei frowns. “Or make them disperse, at least. They can exit the barrier. If they make it off the mountain, into the city, they won’t cause too many problems for non-sorcerers.”

You angle your body toward Suguru, glancing up at him with furrowed brows. “Will you wait for me?”

“I’ll leave the door unlocked,” he whispers.

It’s not what you wanted to hear, but you can’t push him. You wordlessly nod, squeeze his hand, and then he’s walking away, headed toward the dorms. You watch him until he’s completely out of sight, immediately twitchy and nervous when you can’t see him anymore. Desperate to be beside him again, your cursed energy flares up.

“Not here,” Sensei says when he feels you gearing up. “You won’t reach them from here. They’re mostly centralized in one area.” He takes a deep breath. “You need to prepare yourself. They haven’t cleaned up yet.”

Cleaned…?

Oh.

It’s where Satoru was…

For a moment, you doubt that you can ever prepare yourself for something like this. You’re no stranger to gore, though, you remind yourself. You’re a sorcerer. You’ve seen the result of a curse’s rampage. But…those people weren’t your best friend, as cold as it is to think.

The only thing that pushes you forward is realizing that if it isn’t you, it’ll be Suguru.

There’s no way he came out of that alive, Shoko had told you.

You understand now, what she meant.

There’s a small crater that hints to the force that he was thrown down with. Hit with. You don’t know. No, it must’ve been some weapon because…the blood. The blood. There’s so much. It’s splattered everywhere across the concrete. The man that killed Satoru hated him. Loathed him. This wasn’t a clean and professional kill like with the Star Plasma Vessel and her caretaker who were taken down with neat shots to the head.

The monster that did this didn’t even hesitate when he confronted children. Because that’s what you all are, in the end. Children with too much power at your fingertips being guided by old men too scared to get their own hands dirty and all too happy to let the new generations die on their behalf.

And this is already so horrifying as is, but the assassin had to defile these corpses, too.

He wouldn’t even let Satoru have a proper burial.

I just want to find him.

You hunch in on yourself, fists curling, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. The shattered pieces of your heart scream that one demand—I want to find him, I want to find him, I just want to fucking find him and bring him home. You know it will never be. This world is not kind. But, nonetheless, someone answers your call. Multiple someone’s, actually.

Around you, the fly heads have frozen in place. They float listlessly, even their buzzing quieted, waiting with anticipation for a command that you didn’t recognize you were preparing to make. The command that you should make, the one for them to exorcise themselves, is on the top of your tongue. What use can the fly heads be? From what you were told, the attacker left no residuals behind. The residuals left behind by Satoru and Suguru would be too faint…

…they would be too faint for a sorcerer to track. A cursed spirit is different. Their senses are different. They’re sharper and more attuned to cursed energy because it is both their life force given by non-sorcerers and a threat when wielded by sorcerers. Weaker spirits are constantly on the hunt for more cursed energy to gain power.

You could command them to search for Satoru’s residuals, but your influence over them will wane with distance until they’ve forgotten the order completely.

Unless…

Unless you can influence a spirit that you know is bound to another.

Die, you demand of the fly heads.

Slowly, they all start to expand around you until they explode with a loud pop. You don’t stick around any longer to make sure they’re all gone. Sensei can take care of that. Just like he can handle the few fly heads that have spread around campus. You’re too busy planning now.

For the rest of the afternoon and the whole night through, Suguru doesn’t speak, and you don’t make him. He really only moves when you do because when you crawled into bed with him, he’d manhandled you until he could curl around you and place his head above the beat of your heart. You don’t ask him about it. You understand the reason that he clings to you. It’s why you can’t stop running your fingers through his hair, can’t stop touching him. You don’t want him to slip away.

Around three in the morning, Shoko texts you. She’s done with her autopsy. Eavesdropping, too. There are no clues. She’s overheard Sensei on his cell phone with higher-ups and they have no idea where to start because so many people have put bounties on his head over the years. They’re also scrambling to figure out how to break the news to Lord Tengen that there will be no merger. You tell her that she’s done enough and to try and get some sleep.

After you snap your phone shut and drop it on the bed, Suguru immediately picks it up. Your fingers itch to stop him from reading the texts, but that’s not your place. From your position above him, you watch his eyes carefully scan over the text, face unmoving.

The room is bathed in darkness once again when he snaps it shut. You think that’s the end of that, but he whispers, “I can’t believe it.”

“I can’t, either,” you confess as quietly. Even seeing all that blood…this is being in denial. Is that what’s going on? You’ve never had a loss like this ever before. You don’t know what to do with yourself. No. That’s a lie. You know what you want to do. “It’s not fair. That they took him, I mean.”

“I’m going to look for him,” Suguru announces. “I…just wanted this one last night with you.”

You tug at his hair meanly. “I’m going with you.”

“No,” Suguru replies with an air of finality.

“Bullshit,” you snap. You’re not letting this go. “No, you’re not leaving me here like some—”

Suguru suddenly rolls over on top of you, knocking the breath out of you. He lifts up on his hands and knees, shifting up so that his face is hovering directly over yours. With only the glow of the moon, it’s hard to make out the fine details of his face, but you can see the frown, the hard set of his jaw. He snatches your wrists, keeping them pinned up by your head, immobilizing you completely and giving you no option but to look at him.

“He has no cursed energy in exchange for a Heavenly Pact. Do you understand what that means?” Suguru asks harshly. “What are you going to do against that? You’re—” weak. You squeeze your eyes shut, hurt lancing through you. He tries to soften the reality with, “You’re not suited against that type of fighting style. You’re better for support.”

“Let me support you, then!” You dig your nails into whatever skin of his you can touch. “I know I’m weak, but…” Your bottom lip wobbles. Definitely not helping your case. “You couldn’t beat him, either. You…you said that you were split up, so…maybe two is better than one…”

“I’m not losing you. I can’t lose you, Squid. Can’t you understand that?”

“But you want to make me grieve you, too?” You scramble for anything that can make him change his mind. “I doubt we’re going to run into danger, anyway. It’s been so long already that…that he’s probably collected the bounty on both heads.” You lean up to knock your forehead against his. “Please, Suguru.”

“No.”

“You promised! You promised that it’d be me and you!”

As your vision blurs, you can make out Suguru’s expression softening. “Don’t cry, Squid,” he begs. One of his big hands let go of your wrist, cupping your cheek. “Why do you have to make this so much harder on me, huh?” He flops down next to you, carefully guiding you to bury your face in the crook of his neck where you continue to cry. “Okay. Okay, I’ll bring you. At the first sign of danger, you have to run.”

You won’t, but you nod and lie, “Okay.”

Little do you know, you’re not the only one who’s lying.

With the sunlight comes the truth of the matter. You wake up alone, the bed empty, and with a note on the nightstand beside both your cell phone and Suguru’s. I’m sorry, the note reads in his neat handwriting. I’ll be safe, but I’m not risking you. At the very end of the note, there’s a line of text, but you can’t tell what he wrote because it’s so scratched out. The page is nearly ripped on that little section.

You, who planned to lie yourself, have no room to feel so betrayed. Anger, though, you think you’re allowed. Grief crashes over you all over again, too. You chose this life, you know, but shouldn’t children be protected a little longer? It never should’ve come to this. Ten minutes is all you can allow yourself because you don’t know how long Suguru has been gone and you need to find him.

Before you rush out the door, you shoot Shoko a text for when she wakes up, letting her know your plan. You also tell her that if he comes back before you then she needs to punch him in the nose on your behalf.

Late in the afternoon, as the sun is setting, there’s a breakthrough.

By this point, you’re jittery and exhausted. You’ve swallowed down so much coffee to keep yourself going that it’s probably in your veins now, but you’re at the point of exhaustion that it’s just not doing anything anymore. Not only have you been walking around the city on foot, but you’ve been keeping your technique running as you have cursed spirits try to lead you to Satoru’s residuals. With as much cursed energy as he had, it should still be radiating off his body enough for a spirit to pick up. That’s what you’d thought, anyway.

Until every spirit that you pull under your influence just…stops. It’s like there’s some invisible barrier that they simply won’t cross. You step past that point, and they’re compelled to follow you, yes, but they struggle against you. Some of the stronger ones outright free themselves and go running.

Something or someone is scaring them.

The problem is that you don’t know how wide the perimeter is of this barrier, how close or far away that Satoru is. But when a pack of vaguely centipede-shaped curses rush past you, out of the invisible area, you know your solution. Just like in movies where animals are the first to know of a disaster and try to outrun it, curses are acting the same. You will run toward where they are running away. At some point, you’ll have to find epicenter.

As you’re still running, further ahead of you, in the distance, there is an explosion—a bright flash of red light, a boom so loud that it vibrates in your chest, and a shake of the earth that makes you stumble. The non-sorcerers around you do the same, some of them even tripping, but they’re not turning in the direction of the flash. No, between all the chatter, you make out people questioning if it was an earthquake or a terrorist attack.

Non-sorcerers can’t see cursed techniques.

And then there was that red light…

Red.

There is something rising up inside you, something dangerous. Hope. All the blood that stained the concrete, the horror that Suguru described that you know extended to Satoru even if Suguru didn’t witness it himself…that all flies out of your head. This is the only thing that makes sense, you reason. There’s only one logical conclusion for why cursed spirits would be running away, refusing to pass that point. A dead boy’s residuals wouldn’t scare them like that.

He’s alive, you think. What else could it be? Nothing, your desperate heart reasons. Then, it’s on repeat. He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive—

Not even five minutes pass before, in the middle of your sprinting, there’s yet another explosion. With this one comes a bright purple light and an even bigger explosion. It sends you stumbling, tripping over your feet, and you manage to catch yourself on your hands and knees, but they don’t come out unscathed. They’re busted open, but you ignore that pain. Adrenaline has you up and back to running.

Looming tall, getting closer and closer, is a temple. Gold and white marble. An eyesore that makes your retinas burn. Is this…the headquarters of the Star Religious Group that Suguru had told you about? One of the two organizations that was targeting them on their mission? It must be. Kusakabe said that the other group, Q, was defunct. Satoru and Suguru even sent pictures posing with the leaders that they beat.

The path that leads to the entrance is lined with tall pillars on either side. The further down the path you run, the evidence of a fight becomes more and more abundant. Some of the pillars are totally crushed, others chopped in half, rubble everywhere, and practically stinking of Satoru’s cursed energy.

Why…why does it feel so different? Are you…you’re not imagining that, are you? For someone that should be on the verge of death, it’s so strong. Stronger than it’s ever been before. The weight of it is almost oppressive. Familiar, but…sharper. You’ve unthinkingly slowed to a stop. Too stuck in thought to move, maybe, or…too scared. It’s as if the connection with the cursed spirits is lingering and their terror is bleeding over to you. Weak and feeble prey against a predator so unimaginable.

This can’t be your Satoru, can it?

“Sketch.”

And the last year and a half of memories comes crashing down on your head when you hear the sound of his voice, suffocating the noise of your panicked hindbrain. When you raise your head, unaware that you’d ducked it down to stare at nothing, he is standing there. A few meters away from you. His blazer is torn open, white button-up underneath it stained with blood, the same as a section of hair covering his forehead. It’s a horrifying miracle…but a miracle, nonetheless.

“Sa—” your mouth snaps shut because your throat clogged with emotion. You don’t know what the fuck you’d say, so you just don’t bother with it. You shut the hell up and run. Tears are blurring your vision, you’re more out of breath than you were getting here because the sobs are bubbling up in your chest, but you don’t stop. You can’t. Not until you know that he is solid and real and alive.

It’s when you throw yourself right at him, arms locking around his neck, that the dam of emotion inside breaks. Before you know it, you’re sobbing. “Satoru!” You’re being rough with him. Clinging too tight. One of your hands is grasping tightly the hair at the nape of his neck and the other fisting the fabric of his blazer. “Satoru!”

Satoru mumbles your name, shoulders slumping under your grasp. “Oh.” His voice cracks a little. Then, he’s giving you a hug of his own, hands splayed across your back. “Oh,” he repeats, almost dazedly. “It all still feels so, so amazing, Sketch.” You try to lean back, but he smushes his cheek against yours, sighing in something you’d think is pleasure. “I want to keep feeling this way forever…with you, Sketch.”

“Satoru—”

The breath catches in your throat when you can lean back enough to catch his gaze with your own. How did you not see these eyes before? Something has changed. Infinity isn’t active, but they’re still glowing bright. Sparkling like the sun glinting off the clearest ocean waters. These eyes are beautiful, entrancing, and…almost inhuman. His world has shifted. He has stepped up on another level. He—

Satoru is kissing you.

You’d been so stunned that you didn’t pay attention to his face inching closer to yours until you feel the warmth of his breath against your mouth. It’s a soft touch of his lips against yours. You could…you should…stop this. You need to…to…check on him. But…oh. Oh, he cups your cheek, hand so big and so, so warm. His hand is at the small of your back now, a gesture that sends pleasure up your spine.

It’s a clumsy kiss, maybe. You’re not sure what to do with your mouth and your noses bump against each other. Then, he tilts his head to the side a bit and it falls into place like two puzzle pieces coming together. Your eyes flutter shut and instead of pushing him away, you’re tugging him closer by the lapels of his blazer.

Heat explodes across your body when he takes it a step further, tongue gliding across the seam of your lips. You’re not sure if he’s aware of it or not, but it’s a dirty move when he cups your cheeks with both his hands. He tries to pull you closer, like he can’t get enough of this. Of you. And that’s…that fucks with a person’s brain. You’ve been swept up in his whirlwind, so you go with it. Your mouth opens and he’s licking into your mouth. You always thought it’d feel gross, but it’s just…hot. The smacking of your lips, the small noise of pleasure he gives…

Satoru pulls himself away from you, the both of you panting harshly. “I…” He licks his lips. “I am super high right now.”

“High,” you repeat hoarsely without much thought to it. You’re dazed and he’s pinning you down with those eyes again. It takes you a good minute to comprehend what he said. When it hits, your body jerks. “High?”

Instead of doing something like elaborating, his brows furrow, and he turns to look over his shoulder at the temple. “Hey, I need to get Amanai’s body. You might wanna leave.” He faces you again, looking like he’s trying to gather his all thoughts. “I blew a hole in that Zen’in guy with Purple. And…I kind of want to slaughter all those people in there. I can see them in this big meeting room, clapping because she’s dead now. I don’t want you seeing that.”

Don’t do that, you should say.

But how can you find mercy in your heart for people who celebrate the death of a child? Who paid a man to swoop in and shatter your life? Those aren’t good people. They’re not innocent. Shouldn’t they be punished in some way?

“Be safe,” you say instead.

Satoru doesn’t kill them.

Not soon after Satoru left you had called Sensei to tell him that Satoru was alive and found the Star Plasma Vessel’s body. And almost as soon as you hang up the phone after Sensei assures you that Shoko and the cleanup crew will be there shortly, Suguru shows up.

When they walk out of the temple, Suguru comes back to meet you while Satoru goes on ahead to hand over the body to those that will make sure she’s treated with respect. Suguru doesn’t look at you when he tells you that he talked Satoru down from killing them all.

“There would be no meaning it in.”

It’s clear that Suguru is troubled, trying to justify that to himself. While you don’t really believe him…well, no. It’s more that you simply don’t care if there’s meaning.

“You’re right,” you lie as a comfort and reach out to thread your fingers through his.

For four days after they come home, you never see them.

Suguru is still texting you—somewhat, anyway, since he’s more focused on taking care of Satoru who hadn’t been able to sleep for three days straight. Still high on…something. You and Suguru were trying to speculate what put him in such a state since there was no point in asking a practically incoherent Satoru. He died, Suguru told you in the middle of night two. I think, he then followed up with. The Six Eyes are fully realized. All the pieces fell in place.

He’s high on the power, you think you summarize correctly.

Suguru thinks that Satoru is finally leveling out when he sleeps for twenty-four hours straight.

You’re the first person to know that he’s awake when you’re walking across campus, planning on a late night konbini run because you can’t sleep, and almost get smacked in the head by a floating wallet. You duck it, but a rock gets tangled in your hair. There’s a bunch of rocks and some empty soda bottles, looking like one of those asteroid fields that you see in space movies.

“Oops,” a familiar voice calls out. “My bad, Sketch.”

“Satoru?” You fully expect him to be there behind you, but when you turn around, there’s nothing. You look off to either side of you, too. Nothing. “Where—” wait. Did it sound like he was speaking above you? You tilt your head up and, yeah, you definitely forgot that Satoru could float even before…everything.

Satoru is cross-legged, floating there in the air. All the debris surrounds him now as if they were planets in his orbit. Your brows furrow. “Why does it feel like you’re showing off?”

“I’m not!” Satoru protests with a pout.

“It just…feels different,” you mumble while trying to figure out what exactly is giving you that idea. This isn’t totally out of the ordinary for him. He was blocking massive chunks of destroyed buildings and tearing apart houses before. “Oh. Your output is so low now.”

“Bingo!”

There was a little delay, but your brain finally catches up. “You’re awake! What are you doing out here? You should’ve gone to see Shoko as soon as you were up!”

Satoru waves the concern off. “I’m running Reverse Curse Technique now. I’m good.”

“You…what?” Logically, that makes the most sense. Despite all the blood, you hadn’t seen a mark on Satoru that day at the temple.

“Yeah! Who knew that getting stabbed in the neck is what it’d take for me to figure out Reverse Curse Technique, huh? Never let Shoko become a teacher. She can’t explain things for shit.”

Avoiding overwhelming emotions isn’t a new concept for you. You’re notorious for it. That doesn’t mean you can’t feel the emotions for Satoru, though. Stabbed in the neck—you didn’t think it was possible for your heart to crack more than it already has.

“Come down here so I can hug you,” you choke out.

Satoru blinks, looking almost baffled by your turn of emotion. Does he really not know how fucked up that is? Can he not understand why you’d be upset? How terrified he must’ve been, you think as you reach out for him when he slowly lowers back to the ground. Sure, he beat Death, but that doesn’t make the sight any less horrifying.

“You gotta stop being such a crybaby or I’m gonna have to give you a new nickname,” he muses when you get your arms around him. His arms slip around your shoulders, crushing you against his chest. “I’m okay, Sketch. Alive and kicking. Got some badass scars and, as the geezers in my clan would say, my Six Eyes are fully realized.”

Be serious about this, you want to demand of him, but who are you to do that? “Don’t make fun of me for worrying about you.”

“Suguru is already doing enough of it, y’know,” Satoru remarks softly. “Go worry about him.”

“I can worry about you both, thanks.”

“You’re cute, Sketch.”

The memory of his mouth against yours makes itself painfully known. Back of your neck prickling with heat, you try to bury your face further against his chest, not wanting him to see whatever might be on your face. In the silence between you two, your mind runs through so many questions. Does he remember? Why in the world did he do that? If it’d been Suguru there instead, would Satoru have kissed him instead? Should you even ask about it? What would you say if you did? Do you even know enough about how you feel for him to have that talk?

Satoru demands to escort you to the konbini when you tell him what has you out so late. He’s almost aggressive when he takes your hand in his and starts tugging you forward again, listing off all the snacks that he wants to buy. At the bottom of the mountain, finally out on the street, you notice that he still hasn’t let go of your hand, so you stop him. You’re fully prepared to talk about it. Okay, you’re not, but you feel like you need to talk about it.

But then, under the glow of a streetlamp, you catch the glint of that scar at the base of his throat.

You’ll bring up the kiss some other time.

“What?”

For once, Sensei doesn’t look you in the eye. “You heard me.”

“Did I? Because it sounds like you told me that some old man is here to force Satoru and Suguru out on solo missions—”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and breathes out your name. “It’s just to ease them back out in the field—”

“Stop lying!” Sensei’s mouth snaps shut at the sound of your echoing shout. “I’m not dumb! These are assignments that only they can do as Special Grades. The higher-ups wouldn’t bother with wasting them on something the rest of us grunts can do, would they?”

“Please. Calm down—”

“It hasn’t even been three weeks!”

Sensei calls in backup. Looking over your shoulder, expression pinched in discomfort, he begs by way of order, “Nanami, Haibara, let’s end class early. Can you take her back to the girls’ dorm—”

There have been only a few times that you’ve ever been so furious in your life and, not-so-shockingly, they all had to do with Suguru. When you were both eight, inseparable, Suguru had finally confessed where his bruises truly came from. You learned that the lack of food wasn’t from poverty or neglect, but maliciousness. The bruises weren’t from scraps with spirits that he was trying to tame.

You’d been downright distraught. You hadn’t let him leave your house for as long as you could. Begging your parents to let him live with you, offering your plate up if there wasn’t enough food in the house for four people. When Suguru wasn’t in the room, you told them what he said, insistent on your parents calling the police for help because you knew they were supposed to help with bad people and what else were Suguru’s parents?

The first few times, your parents lied and said that they’d handle it. After a year of nothing happening, you’d gone to a teacher instead because your parents outright told you that how Suguru’s parents disciplined him wasn’t their business. Suguru was out for about a week, and you hadn’t been allowed over. When he came back to school, arm in a cast, he told you about a person visiting, and how furious it’d made his parents when that lady left.

Finally, you learned a cruel lesson—that trying to help would only punish Suguru.

Maybe that’s something you should remember right now, but…you’re blinded by that same sense of justice that you’d had as an eight-year-old girl. You have a voice here. You’ll scream until your throat bleeds. If they want sacrifices, you’ll offer yourself up in place of Suguru and Satoru. Just to let them have peace a little while longer.

“Senpai?” Haibara hesitantly touches your shoulder.

Nanami and Haibara, smartly, move out of your way when you whirl around and storm out of the classroom. You’re not sure how much time you have left, but you need to ditch your escorts, so you go back to the dorms like Sensei requested, fuming the entire time. You don’t speak a word to your juniors, scared that you’ll snap at them unnecessarily. They’re just following orders, same as every other fucking sorcerer.

As soon as you’re inside your room, you’re immediately sneaking out the window, and pinpointing Satoru and Suguru’s cursed energies. They’re at the entrance’s torii gate, getting lectured by some withered husk. Satoru, as always, looks disinterested, but Suguru…

Suguru looks tired.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

The old man slowly turns around to face you, eyes narrowed. “Who do you think you’re talking to like that?” For someone that’s hunched over and clutches to his cane with a trembling hand, he sure does have his nose stuck up pretty high in the air. “Ah, I know you.” He says your name. “Mind your tongue, girl. You’ll ruin your chances at success with this type of behavior.”

“They almost died and you’re throwing them back out in the field this soon?”

He scoffs. “Is that what this is about? I’ve spoken with Yaga. They’ve been healed.”

“Are you stupid?” If he can’t scrounge up an emotion in his black heart, you’ll appeal to logic. “Do you not understand that if you don’t give them proper rest and run them ragged then they’re more likely to make mistakes and die? Let someone else handle whatever you want them to do.”

“Who? Like you? Stop acting like a child. You may be a sorcerer, but don’t think you could be of any use other than collecting information. You’re weak.” You hate this man, but you hate that he’s right even more. Is running your mouth really the only thing that you can do? “Know your place.”

Behind the old man, Suguru and Satoru puff up.

Something ugly is festering inside you as you watch him walk away. You’re not sure that you’ve ever felt so much hatred toward another person. How can such weak people have all this power? What more can you compare them to other than an invasive parasite—hiding themselves away as their host supports them and weakens itself until there’s nothing left and then they’re on to the next pray. That’s how they rose so high. Everyone else threw themselves on the sword until only these cowards remained. It isn’t fair that you’re forced to bow down to them.

You should worship us, you think viciously. Rage is making your body go haywire. You’re trembling all over, fists clenched so tightly that your nails are digging into your skin causing sticky, wet blood to slip through your fingers. Prostrate yourself before us, you wish you could scream at him. How much blood have they spilt with their callous and cruel demands? You can’t even begin to imagine, but you smell it. You taste it. You can’t even register that something is slipping from your nose, over the bow of your lips. Your eyes are losing focus, your ears are ringing, and you’re shocked that you can focus enough to think anymore with how agonizing this headache is.

Prostrate yourself.

A lot happens all at once. Just as someone snatches your upper arm, the higher-up goes down with a crack. An actual crack of a bone. He twists himself awkwardly as he’s going down, ending up spread eagle on the ground right in front of your feet. He turns his head to the side, forehead coated with blood from getting busted open on the concrete. He clutches at his hip, trying to move, but failing every single time.

Then, you’re gone.

Feeling like your stomach drops out under you, along with your feet, you’re warped to a completely different part of campus by Satoru’s hold on your arm. All at once, the world comes rushing back in, and you’re suddenly aware of your body. You collapse to your hands and knees, watching as drops of blood plop on the blades of grass beneath your face. Even this much, holding yourself up by your shaking arms, is hard.

Just being conscious is hard, apparently, because you wobble before you’re crashing on the ground and passing out.

“You were right to bring me to her first. Fuck. She had a brain bleed. What the fuck happened?”

Shoko’s raised voice might be what pulls you back to consciousness. Or the fact that you’re clearly healed now. The only remnant that there had been something wrong is the flaking blood on your face, sensitivity to light, and the lingering exhaustion because she can’t fully replenish cursed energy.

The lack of noise has you turning your head to the side. Shoko, Satoru, and Suguru—all in a circle—have turned to stare down at you. There are varying degrees of concern on their faces, but Shoko is the only one that’s also furious. She points an accusatory finger at you. “You’re going to tell me what you did later, Duck. Do you understand me? Right now, I have to go heal some old geezer’s broken hip.”

Ah. You’d been right, then. A bone had broken.

You broke that bone.

Because you…

In the heat of that moment, you weren’t comprehending what was going on. What you were doing. But you know now. And the implications of it terrify you. What’s even worse is that you weren’t even consciously thinking about doing it. It just happened, so what if it happens again by accident? What if one of those things thought in the heat of the moment that you’d never say out loud comes true?

You didn’t want this. Not this. You never asked for it. This is too much power for one person. How do you shoulder the weight of something like this? You can’t. You don’t have it in you. You’ll hurt someone, you know it, and it’ll be someone that you love, and when it happens—

“Squid.”

Suguru’s hands appear in your blurry line of vision. They’re meant to be a silent question, to ask if you’re okay to be touched right now. You answer by grabbing his wrists and yanking them down to your cheeks. You don’t know what possesses you to do it. Maybe it’s to pull him in closer because seeing his softening expression makes you feel less overwhelmed. They understand better than anyone, after all, that power is a burden.

It’s not a full breakdown. More a moment of overwhelming pressure and guilt. Suguru and Satoru, both now sitting down next to you in the grass, don’t say anything until you calm down. When you’re just sniffling, Suguru’s thumb that’s been stroking your cheek stills. “What happened, Squid?”

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Satoru speaks up. “Your persuasion isn’t only limited to cursed spirits anymore. It’s anything with cursed energy, isn’t it?” You nod, mouth twisted with misery. “We really need to come up with a name for your technique.”

“Not the time, Satoru,” Suguru sighs. He brushes away some hair that’s plastered across your forehead. “You don’t seem as surprised by this as I think you should be.”

“Shoko put the idea in my head at the start of the term,” you mumble. “I told her about that mission with you—the one where I caught your cursed spirit and that other sorcerer’s shikigami. I could maybe understand why yours was affected because the spirits have different cursed energy than yours, but…the shikigami is a manifestation of a sorcerer’s energy. Shoko took it to its next logical step. I didn’t want to believe her.”

“It was so weird.” Satoru is tapping his bottom lip, thoughtful. “It was like your cursed energy was infecting that geezer. It was only a second, but I guess whenever you gave your command, I swear that it was like there were two of you. It was seriously trippy.”

“And then you gave yourself a brain bleed. Do you know how lucky you were that Shoko was on campus?” Suguru presses his palm against your forehead, and you look back up at him. The corners of his eyes are tight with worry. “Promise me you won’t do that again.”

“I didn’t mean to do it,” you purposely deflect. Does this power scare you? Yes. Would you use it again if it meant keeping the people you love safe in both body and mind? Another yes. “I’m just…worried about you both.”

“Squid, you can’t keep us here forever. I know you’re worried, but—” he fumbles. Briefly, his gaze darkens, but that emotion quickly passes. “We’re the strongest. We can take care of ourselves.”

“It’s not about whether you can do it or not,” you whisper. “It’s about rest. You almost died. You…you lost. And…that leaves wounds that Shoko can’t heal. Why can’t you have more time? Why does it have to be you?”

“The world has to keep spinning, Sketch.”

Yes, the world is cruel like that, isn’t it?

The start of middle school had felt like a month-long blowout in your household.

About two weeks in, while you were curled up under the blankets with a hot water bag pressed against your pelvis, grandparents that you rarely saw had come to visit from the village over. It’d felt like such an invasion of privacy when your both your mother and grandmother presented a bowl of red rice and congratulations on becoming a woman that you’d snapped. Why celebrate such a stupid thing? You’d ranted and raved. It’s what the body does. Why make a big deal? Do you do this with boys when they get their first erection? And all hell had broken loose.

Your father had outright smacked you in the mouth for speaking so crudely and disrespectfully to his mother. After an hour or so of being banished to your room, your frazzled mother and shrewd grandmother had come to interrogate you on how you knew about such a thing—the thing being erections. You’d told them because you saw nothing wrong with the truth. You hadn’t known it then, but Suguru had started puberty a few months before you. He’d told you about the exhausting and awkward conversation his father had been forced to give him.

By the end of the weekend, you’d been ready to choke your grandmother. The way she hovered over your mother, stirring up shit by whispering in your mother’s ear. The worst offense, in your opinion, had been how they turned Suguru away at the door every single day. You couldn’t sneak out because your grandmother slept in your room at night while days were spent going over what boiled down to glorified etiquette classes. Ladies don’t talk about crude things which included basic bodily functions, ladies don’t sleep with men unless they’re married, ladies are demure yet try to make friends with their peers, ladies this, ladies that, and on and on it went.

And you’d overheard conversations at school, knew that most of your classmates hated it as much as you did when their grandparents visited, so you’d hoped the hell would end when they were gone. It hadn’t. That Monday night, your mother had declared that there would no longer be any sleepovers, and you think that may have been the first ever time you screamed yourself hoarse.

You’ve always been too close to that boy! Your father had been the one to step in, absolutely laying into you. I tolerated it because you needed to have one friend, at least, so we could pretend our daughter is normal, but this is just becoming borderline inappropriate now! You’re lucky that I don’t ban you from seeing him, period! And think of him! Don’t you think that he’s sick of spending so much time with you? He’ll never have any other friends if he’s seen spending so much time with you! Let the boy be a boy, damn it!

That’s when the doubt started, you think.

This fear has always plagued you—the idea that you need Suguru more than he needs you.

Zen’in Toji changes that.

Sometimes, when you’re too stuck in your head, you worry that you’re still acting like a child, tugging at his sleeves, annoyingly demanding his attention. Now, it almost feels like the roles have reversed. Not that you’re annoyed. No, if he tried to hide himself away, you’re pretty sure that you’d be waiting outside his door like a lost puppy begging to come home.

Really, the only difference between now and those childhood days where you two were practically joined at the hip is that Satoru is included.

Now that Satoru and Suguru are on their own, you’ve been unofficially added to Nanami and Haibara’s team. What happened to headquarters wanting you to spy on Suguru, huh? This might be a punishment. You don’t mind it, obviously, because you like to be a good mentor, but it’s not just them that you’re helping. Helping is a loose term, though. You’re almost as busy as Suguru and Satoru are, running to pacify and record spirits for the seasoned sorcerers.

A thing that you’ve started to learn is that sorcerers are…eccentric. More often than not, they don’t try to make small talk with you which you’re happy for, but it’s still exhausting to be around all these strangers. It seems like you’re always running on empty. It feels like your art is suffering, too, because you can’t find it in yourself to practice in your spare time. You feel as if you always have to be available.

Things might be easier if you had some time alone, but you never are anymore, even when you’re on campus. Would Satoru and Suguru respect your wishes if you asked? Yes. But you never do. You always feel too guilty to ask for such a thing when they’re working so hard all the time. Thankfully, Suguru is fine to sit in silence with you and Satoru can talk and talk without you ever saying a word back.

Things are changing between the three of you—even a person like you who always has things going over her head can see that.

You’re not quite sure when it started but there is always someone in your bed. None of you talk about it, though. If they hadn’t started leaving pieces of themselves behind in your room, you’d wonder if they even knew that the other is with you when they aren’t around. In your need to have things in the correct places, you’ve assigned them spots—Suguru’s cigarettes are tucked in the corner of your nightstand, Satoru’s stash of blueberry sodas is neatly stacked inside your minifridge, Suguru’s spicy ramen is in the cabinet closest to the door and Satoru’s melon bread are next to the ramen.

People talk about walking in the shadows of The Strongest, but…for you, it feels like their shadows are swallowing you whole.

Where do they end and where do you begin?

It’s getting weird inside your head. Not that it hasn’t always been. It’s just…you sometimes feel suffocated. On bad days, you wonder if you’ve started to create a mask for them—something you’ve never felt the need to do, especially with Suguru. And yet, in spite of it all, you’re terrified to push them away, and not because of what happened to them.

Bitterly, you think about that river in your village, and how if you were thrown in it with no way out but forward that you’d let yourself drown in that familiarity rather than face the unknown that awaits on the other side of the river.

You’d scolded Suguru for picking up smoking, but maybe he and Shoko are on to something with it.

The stars have aligned just right so that you, Satoru, and Suguru are all on campus at the exact same time. It’s a bitterly cold December morning and you’re gathered in the smoking area. Sitting next to Suguru on a bench, you eye the cigarette, tempted to try, but decide better of it. You’ll settle for the smoke that curls in the air and clings to his clothes. You tilt to the side, putting your head on his shoulder, and Suguru settles his cheek on the top of your head. Satoru, across from you and munching on pocky, has been watching you two with an eerie intensity.

“You two should come home to Kyoto with me.”

“Meeting the parents already?” The question was intoned by you and Suguru, at the exact same time. You lean away, glancing up at Suguru with the same surprise mirrored on his face, and then the two of you break out in a loud fit of laughter that’s becoming depressingly rare these days.

Satoru stands there, red-faced and fuming. “Sorry for wanting to spend my birthday weekend with you, you assholes!”

After collecting yourself and catching your breath, you ask, “Are we even allowed?”

“Doesn’t matter if you are or not,” he replies with a shrug of the shoulder. “I’m head of the clan, baby. I can do whatever I want, and no one can say a damn thing about it.”

From next to you, Suguru snorts. “Why don’t you just stay here since you obviously don’t want to go, Lord Gojo.”

“Future head of the clan,” Satoru reluctantly grumbles. “I could stay here,” he goes on to defensively. “I’m just being a nice person! The last time I saw my parents was last year when I moved on campus. I’m doing them a favor before I’m eighteen and never looking back.”

“Oh? Are you giving up your position when you graduate? Otherwise, you’ll probably be seeing them to do fancy, important clan stuff,” you tease.

“Screw both of you!” If life were an anime, there would be steam blowing out of his ears right now. “I was even going to let you guys go all out when we get fitted, but now I’m choosing for you, and I’ll put you in the ugliest colors!”

You cock your head to the side. “Fitted?”

“They want traditional clothes for the birthday celebration.”

“How traditional?”

“Ofurisode for you and montsuki for us,” he answers casually.

Oh, no. No, no, no. There have been only a few times where your parents rented a kimono for you, and you hated every single second of it. Granted, you were young, but you remember how much you hated it. “No.” You shake your head. “Absolutely not. I refuse.”

Satoru’s brows furrow. “Eh? Why?”

“What do you mean why? I can’t believe you’re okay with it! You don’t like clothes clinging to you, right?”

“Actually, it’s more like I hate when my clothes get wet. Besides, if something feels like it’s rubbing against me wrong, I can shift Infinity to sit between my skin and the fabric. Anyway, my montsuki are always silk, and I like how that feels.”

Your eye twitches. “Yeah, well, not everyone has Infinity. Do you even know how many pieces there are in an ofurisode? It’s so heavy and tight and—” you visibly shudder.

“Good point.” Satoru hums and taps his chin in thought. “Best I can do is a chu-furisode, though. I don’t doubt that they’d kick you out on your ass if you showed up in anything less formal or if we tried putting you in something for the married women.”

“You’re forgetting something,” you point out wryly. “I can just not go.”

“Sketch,” Satoru whines. “It’s my birthday.”

“We can celebrate here before or after you leave.”

“Also,” Suguru finally speaks up, “that’s too much money.”

“Oh, don’t worry, my little country bumpkins. It’s all on the Gojo dime and it won’t even be a drop in the bucket.”

Deadpan and once again at the same time, you and Suguru say, “Rich boy.”

Satoru claps his hands together in front of himself, ducking his head. “Please, please, please,” he loudly begs. “Don’t leave me on my own with my shitty clan! It’ll be like a sleepover! You guys did those when you were kids, right? My one wish is that I get a turn having a sleepover with Sketch and Suguru!”

We have sleepovers every time you’re on campus, you aggressively think. But, after a moment of reflection, you realize that, actually, not all three of you have slept in the same room. On the few times that they’ve been on campus at the same time, neither of them tries to sneak into your room at night or text you to ask. You think you know what they do, though. Just as they’ve started to leave pieces of themselves in your room, you see them in each other’s. And, sure, you could put that as them hanging out, but you’ll sometimes catch whiffs of cigarette smoke on Satoru’s sheets and pillows.

You still want to tell him no. It’s a daunting thought, being in an uncomfortable kimono, surrounded by people that don’t even respect their own future clan head let alone people like you and Suguru who have no sorcery in your bloodlines. But what else is there to get the boy who has everything? And…it’s a rare chance to have them to yourself because the higher-ups are giving him leave and, if Satoru insists, his family will request the same for you and Suguru.

“Fine,” you agree with a frustrated sigh.

Suguru also gives a sigh of his own. “I’m smoking, whether I’m allowed to or not.”

“Best birthday ever!” Satoru cheers.

For obvious reasons, Satoru puts off going on his clan’s estate as long as possible. There are people at the estate that could measure you and Suguru, but Satoru pulls you both into a shop that’s probably so expensive that it costs to breathe. You’re glad the prices aren’t displayed. Thankfully, you don’t really have to put up with strange hands all over you yet. They simply take a tape measurer to you and then let you pick out the fabric. Like Satoru, you decide on a beautiful silk that starts out forest green before fading to a navy blue near the bottom.

Kyoto is mostly religious sits—temples, castles, shrines, and the like. It’s very beautiful. Satoru takes you both to the Fushimi Inari-taisha, a long path that’s nothing but bright red torii gates. Satoru is surprisingly quiet, so it’s a peaceful moment. After the shrine, you wonder if it was just a way to calm you down before you’re forced to face the crowds to find food. It’s…honestly not as bad as you expected because with Satoru and Suguru’s huge bodies in front of and behind you, people can’t bump into you that much.

Late in the afternoon, as the sun is setting, the three of you are in a random park. Satoru is dozing off, head in Suguru’s lap, and Suguru is reading a book. It’s good inspiration, so you draw them. Not like that’s anything unusual. You do feel a little sad, a little nostalgic when you flip through your personal sketchbook and see the gradual loss of…youth, you guess. Even Shoko isn’t unaffected. You wonder how you look to everyone else.

At twilight, Satoru decides he can’t stall anymore, and he finally picks up the phone that he’s been ignoring all day.

“Your parents aren’t what I expected,” Suguru comments when the three of you shuffle into his obscenely large bedroom.

Meanwhile, your question is, “Is this not your room?” Sure, Satoru brought a lot of stuff when he moved on campus, but this room is…weirdly empty. Not a hint of his love for Digimon, no posters, and the bedsheets look like they belong to an older person rather than a teenager.

“Right? My parents are super weak. They were low on the Gojo ladder, but then they had yours truly, and they’re practically worshipped now. I’ve never lived with them much, though. They handed me over to tutors and people who could teach me about sorcery,” Satoru explains. “I was in another section of the compound, but when I come to Kyoto, I’m a good son and stay with my parents.”

Suguru voices what you’re both thinking. “Satoru, that’s…really sad. You know that, right?”

“Eh.” Satoru shrugs off the concern. “It’s probably how every other rich kid is treated. Non-sorcerers get boarding schools, and I got training and missions.”

“Missions?”

“Yeah?” Satoru cocks his head to the side, genuinely confused by your disbelief. “What? I’m Gojo Satoru, wielder of the Six Eyes. You think I was sitting around on my ass until high school?”

Suguru is pressing a thumb against the center of his forehead. “I’m too tired to tell you how fucked up that is, Satoru. We’ll save it for another day.”

“Agreed,” you say with a nod. “And don’t expect me to be polite to any of your family.”

“I don’t get you guys, but okay. Let’s go to bed.”

It takes a bit of maneuvering. There’s some giggling when, as you three try to get settled in Satoru’s massive bed, you all bump into some ticklish spots. You argue even more about the positioning. Finally, you decide that the birthday boy is stuck in the middle. Besides, he’s always ice cold, so he won’t get too hot, anyway.

Satoru has an arm thrown around your shoulders and Suguru’s. Suguru’s cheek is up in the crook of Satoru’s neck while yours is above his heart. It’s a nice sensation, listening to the frantic beat of Satoru’s heart slow as the minutes pass by. Suguru is half-asleep when he reaches out to lace his fingers through yours, placing them on Satoru’s stomach. They’re both asleep before you, which isn’t a surprise. They must be exhausted, constantly coming and going on missions.

I wish I was stronger.

Strong enough to shoulder these burdens with them, strong enough to face down the old men that treat Satoru and Suguru like weapons to be used and feared, strong enough to stop childishly clinging to everyone else, strong enough to protect these so very precious moments, strong enough…

I’m weak.

And that’s a bitter truth but a still a truth regardless.

#satosugu x reader #geto x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk gojo #jjk geto #jjk x reader #satoru gojo #suguru geto #autistic reader #autistic gojo #jjk fanfic

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