#free fire squid game

[ao3-anonymous]

Fastest Growing Fandoms on AO3 This Week (01/06/2025)

Every week I pull data on how many fics are in each fandom and compare to the previous week, then calculate the percentage increase to determine fastest growing fandoms.  Since this naturally skews towards smaller fandoms, I have included the same data filtered to Over 1k, 5k, & 10k fics.

Overall:

Over 1,000 Fics:

Over 5,000 Fics:

Over 10,000 Fics:

Source: AO3 Fandom Dashboard

[nebulashumanehelpcenter]

Hello friends ❤️✋

There is nothing left of our goal of $12,000 🎯💓

Less than $220 left 🚨💪

I really hope to achieve today's goal. 😔🇵🇸🍉

Please donate even a small amount of money in this urgent situation 🙏😞💚

Thank you so much 🍉🇵🇸

https://gofund.me/abbc2759

They’re so close! Help them out!! ^^

[hangesophtalmologist]

playing with fire burns like hell

part 1

previous name: the salesman’s obsession

part 1, (part 2)

pairing: squid game's salesman/ recruiter x f!reader

synopsis: when someone dares to interrupt his game, the infamous salesman ought to punish them... but she doesn't intend to play by his rules.

warnings: violence, physical assaut, social stigma, psychotic mc, squid game au

a/n: we shall give the people what they asked for (salesman x readers) (i'm people)

The slap rang out like a gunshot, ricocheting off the cold subway walls. The man on the ground – disheveled, panting – flinched. His cheek blossomed red, but he didn’t dare look up. Above him, the Salesman stood poised, palm still tingling. His eyes were bright but empty, the light behind them clinical, dissecting.

"Come on now, one more try,” he taunted. His voice was smooth, almost musical and weightless, as if he were suggesting a game of chess. "Don’t stop at three. You’ll regret that more.”

It wasn’t joy he was feeling. Amusement, merely. Detached, surgical. Like stepping on something fragile just to hear the crack. The pathetic, the desperate – they all crumbled the same way. He just had to give them a little push, and their precious facade fell apart, leaving behind the twitching core of greed, ready to humiliate itself for scraps.

The sweating businessman bent to pick up his red tile, trembling. His shoulders sagged under the weight of silent despair. Miserable. The Salesman’s lips curled, though not exactly enough to be called a smile. He enjoyed the process. The inevitability of it.

Another failure.

He raised his hand, licking his lips in anticipation, but before he could swing, something unexpected happened. A hand grabbed his wrist.

Firm. Unshaking.

Cold.

His head snapped to the side; the sharp turn of a predator interrupted mid-hunt.

You.

His gaze narrowed. He’d noticed you earlier, lingering on the platform’s edge. Background noise. He rarely missed details, but somehow you had slipped through the cracks. Perhaps that was the first red flag.

His gaze drifted over your hand, slender fingers circling his wrist like a cuff. He could break free easily. Yet he didn’t. Your grip felt… deliberate. Measured.

“Enough,” you said, cocking your head to the side, sly eyes scrutinizing him.

His expression shifted, just slightly. Interest flickered, not outwardly hostile, but curious. He searched your face for clues – that familiar, nauseating blend of pity and self-importance most saviours carried. Yet, your eyes betrayed neither. But he didn’t need any tells – he knew people like you. Hypocrites yearning for crumbs of recognition.

“And who might you be?” His voice retained its warmth, but irritation simmered beneath it.

You stepped between him and his trembling opponent, your hand falling away. “Doesn’t matter.”

His gaze darkened as annoyance started to seep in his body. He didn’t even watch as the man behind you scrambled to his feet, disappearing into the crowd like prey escaping a hunter. His focus was entirely on you now – the intruder. He examined you for long time – longer than what he was used to. The Salesman never cared much for remembering anyone other than his recruits – but there was something about the lines of your face, the crooked slope of your mouth, the mischief in you pupils. Something challenging. Something he wanted to crush.

"You just cost me 100,000 won," he said lightly, adjusting his cufflinks with meticulous care – but the tightness in his jaw betrayed the casual tone. "So. How do you plan to pay me back?"

You shrugged, defying. “I don’t plan to.”

His grin widened, but the glint in his eyes sharpened. “I see. Then I’ll have to take it from you. A slap or cash. Choose.”

“I have a better idea,” you smirked, lazily flicking the red tile between your fingers. “I’ll take his place. I want to play too.”

His smile faltered. The thrill flickered out, but simply for a second – you weren’t desperate, not twitchy or ashamed. Not his typical prey. Yet. Because after all, if you wanted to play, it was because you wanted money – like everyone else.

He just needed to crack your confident mask to see you scrambling for it.

A chuckle escaped his mouth, hunger for your humiliation gnawing at his stomach. He wanted to see your heroic aspirations slapped out of your mind until you were nothing more than the lowlives he usually dealt with.

Yes. This would be even more fun to watch.

His smirk returned, though colder. “Fine. Each loss costs 100,000 won. Can you pay?”

“Don’t worry. I won’t lose.”

Your smugness stirred something primal in him—something ugly, something he hadn’t felt in years. You flipped the red card over your fingers, defiance oozing off you. Then in a split second you hurled the tile to the ground with surprising force. There was no hesitation, no tension. He didn’t need to look down to know you had flipped the blue card over. He watched you carefully, waiting for the inevitable flicker of relief that most winners betrayed.

None came.

Your eyes had barely left him either, like you were also gauging his reaction. Your lips stretched in a predatory smile – a thrill of excitement ran down his veins.

“I paid the debt. Now let’s play for real,” you cheered, displaying a naïve smile, one that could have fooled him as genuine if there wasn’t a flick of calculation - measurement - behind the easy curve of your lips.

The Salesman was a man of control – he could recognize when someone was leading a game, and right now this someone wasn’t him. He wasn’t surprised when you succeeded again.

“You won,” he stated, but there was no satisfaction, no amusement – he was still hungry for your humiliation. He reached for his luggage. But your foot stopped him, stepping on it as you suddenly reduced the distance between them.

“Oh no, Mister. You must have misunderstood me,” you slowly leaned towards him and whispered against his face.

He should have seen it before – but it was only now, when you were inches away from him, that he finally noticed the spark of amusement hidden in your eyes. It wasn’t heroism, nor greed that animated you.

Danger. His heart raced with the adrenaline that was reserved for his favourite kills, an all-too-powerful feeling that welcome your next words.

“I wasn’t playing for money.”

And then with sudden, brutal efficiency, you slapped him. Hard. Hard enough to send him stumbling on his feet and wipe any thought from his mind.

The crack resounded louder than his own had.

His head jerked to the side, pain stinging his cheek. Silence stretched between you. The slap burned, but not as much as the unfamiliar sensation curling in his gut.

Your laugh cut through the quiet, light and playful, but dripping with something – something mad.

He scoffed, bringing a hand to massage his cheek. It was stinging, the only proof that the last seconds had happened. When he looked back at you, you had tilted your head in an innocent expression.

But your conniving smirk was taunting him. “I get you now; it is quite fun. Have a nice day, Mister.”

You turned and walked away, your figure shrinking under the flickering subway lights.

The Salesman didn’t follow. Not immediately.

He watched you disappear into the station, the flickering fluorescent lights overhead casting fractured shadows on the tiles.

He stayed rooted, fingers twitching at his side, replaying the moment. Over and over.

Then, without warning, he laughed. Deep, unhinged, shaking laughter that echoed through the empty station. His stomach twisted with hunger, sharper and more vicious than he had felt in years.

You.

You weren’t a prey.

No, you were something far more valuable.

You were a challenge.

And he would break you. Piece by piece.

[izzyzt]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥’𝐬 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞

the salesman (gong ji-cheol) x f/reader — squid game

| Y/N confronts the recruiter after two years, but he turns the tables with a sinister game and a chilling warning: “This is your only warning, sweetheart.”|

———————————————————————————

Y/N slammed the door to the cheap motel room shut, tossing her bag onto the creaky bed. The room smelled like stale air and mildew, but she didn’t care. This wasn’t about comfort; it was a pit stop on her endless hunt for him.

It had been two years since she escaped the Squid Game alive, but she was anything but free. The blood money still sat untouched in a locked safe, a constant reminder of the lives she took and the people she lost. And above all, it reminded her of him—the man who started it all.

The man who gave her that damn card.

He had a face she couldn’t forget, one that haunted her even now: sharp features, a smile too charming for someone so cruel, and eyes that sparkled with amusement no matter the circumstance. She didn’t know his name, but that didn’t matter. She’d been chasing his shadow ever since, following every lead, every whispered rumor.

Tonight, she’d finally seen him again—on the subway. He was sitting there, calm as ever, as though the two years of her obsessive search had been nothing but a game to him. She had pushed through the crowded train to get to him, but he slipped out just as the doors opened, vanishing into the bustling platform.

And now here she was, back in this dingy motel, trying to piece together her next move.

But then, a voice she hadn’t heard in two years broke through the silence, smooth and playful.

“Took you long enough.”

Her blood froze.

Y/N turned sharply, and there he was. Him.

He was sitting in the armchair by the window, one leg crossed over the other, his posture relaxed. His suit was sharp and pristine, a stark contrast to the shabby room, and his eyes sparkled with an unsettling combination of amusement and mischief.

“How did you get in here?” she demanded, her voice sharp and trembling with anger.

He tilted his head, like a curious child trying to solve a puzzle.

“You really should learn to lock your doors, Y/N.”

Her fists clenched at her sides as she stepped toward him, her body burning with rage.

“What do you want?”

He stood, taking his time, adjusting his cuffs as though she hadn’t spoken. When he finally met her gaze, his smile widened.

“What do I want?” he repeated, stepping closer. “That’s the wrong question. You’ve been looking for me, haven’t you? Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Her rage boiled over, and without thinking, she threw a punch at him.

He caught her wrist mid-air with startling ease, his grip firm yet calculated. He didn’t flinch, didn’t blink—just smiled as though she’d done exactly what he wanted.

“Now, now,” he murmured, his voice dangerously calm. “Is that any way to greet someone you’ve been chasing for so long?”

She yanked her hand free, glaring at him with fire in her eyes. “You ruined my life!”

His brow arched as he took another step forward, forcing her to back into the edge of the bed.

“Ruined it?” he echoed, his tone soft, almost pitying. “Or gave it purpose?”

She wanted to shove him again, to scream, but the way he was watching her—calm, unflinching, almost playful—stopped her in her tracks. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin, holding it up between his fingers like a magician about to perform a trick.

“Let’s play a game,” he said, his voice light and cheerful, as though they were old friends.

Her jaw tightened.

“I’m not playing anything with you.”

He pouted, tilting his head.

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart. Heads or tails. You pick.”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he replied, flipping the coin between his fingers. “Just a simple game. Call it.”

Her hands balled into fists again, but this time she swallowed her anger, narrowing her eyes.

“Heads.”

He grinned, flipping the coin high into the air. It caught the flickering light as it spun before landing neatly in his palm. He didn’t reveal the result right away, instead stepping closer, so close that she could feel his breath against her skin.

“Are you sure about that?” he whispered, his voice low and intimate.

“Just show me,” she snapped.

He opened his hand slowly, revealing tails.

His grin widened as he leaned in, his hands moving to the bed on either side of her, caging her in. The space between them vanished, his presence suffocating.

“Looks like you lose,” he murmured, his tone deceptively gentle.

“What now?” she spat, refusing to let the proximity rattle her.

His smile softened, but the intensity in his eyes burned brighter.

“Now, we see how far you’re willing to go.”

She tried to shove him away, but he didn’t budge. His gaze never wavered as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

“You’re messing with my work, sweetheart, and I can’t let that happen.”

Her breath hitched as his hand brushed against her jaw, tilting her chin upward. His grip was light, almost tender, but it sent shivers down her spine.

“This is your only warning,” he continued, his lips barely an inch from hers. “Back off. Or next time, you won’t see me coming.”

With that, he released her and stepped back, adjusting his cuffs as though nothing had happened.

Y/N glared at him, her chest rising and falling with barely controlled rage.

“I’m not stopping,” she said, her voice trembling with defiance.

His smirk returned, sharp and dangerous.

“Good,” he said, walking toward the door. “That makes it so much more fun.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving her alone in the suffocating silence. On the table by the window, she noticed the coin he had left behind, perfectly balanced on its edge, a taunting reminder that the game was far from over.

[burningembers91]

Outside Looking In - Nam-Gyu x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Nam-Gyu has always been an outsider, watching as everyone passes him by. He spends his days trying to make a name for himself, and trying to show the beautiful hostess with a broken heart that he'd love her until the end of time, if only she would let him.

A/N: Based off of this ask. I wanted to say a HUGE thank you the anon who asked that I write for Nam-Gyu. I didn't really like his character in Squid Game, but I am SO happy with how this turned out. I wasn't planning on writing this so quickly, but the ask gave me such a good idea, I couldn't resist. Thank you, Anon. I hope you enjoy!

Park Nam-Gyu had spent his entire life desperately waiting to be noticed. Waiting to be noticed by his parents, his siblings, his class mates, employers, and women. But no matter how hard he tried he always just seemed to be on the edge of everyone’s periphery. He tried to be bolder, louder, a little more cocky; he’d met so many people like that who commanded attention, so he couldn’t understand why it didn’t work for him.

He'd taken a job as a Club Promoter to meet girls, but also on the hope that people would want to hang out with him, even if was just for discounted or free bar entry. He would spend all week advertising clubs and bars on Instagram, promising his old classmates he would be able to get them tickets for the hottest places in town, even the ones that were exclusively guest list only. It had worked for a while, and Nam-Gyu found himself basking in the popularity he’d always craved. But people were fickle, and once they got what they wanted, they soon left. There were hundreds of club promoters in the city, and most of them had better connections that he did. He never gave up though, spending each weekend following the crowds of drinkers that flooded through Seoul. He never quite managed to attract enough attention though, left to stand on the pavement clutching his leaflets as everyone passed him by.

Nam-Gyu knew he should throw the towel in. He didn’t make any money as a club promoter, still living in the tiny box room at his mum and dad’s house. He should really focus on a proper job, something in insurance or accounting; but then he really would be a nobody. Just another faceless ghost in a suit, robotically moving through life. He knew he was destined for greater things, if only he could just be noticed.

You were the other reason he didn’t want to quit the job that made him no money. You, the beautiful hostess, whose job it was to entertain the richer clientele who frequented the bars he promoted. Night after night you would bend to every will and demand of drunk men, smiling politely as they groped you, called you hideous names and tried to force themselves on you. You were tired of this life, tired of being nothing more than a pretty girl in a tight dress and pair of heels whose name no one bothered to learn. Except for Nam-Gyu; he knew your name; he saw the sadness harboured in your eyes. He watched as you stood in all kinds of weather, smiling and greeting people through gritted teeth. You were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and he was so madly, so deeply in love with you. He could try and bullshit the drinkers with his false bravado, but he could never fool you. “What are you doing after work?” he asked you one night as you stood shivering on the pavement, savouring the last fewminutes of your break. “I’m going home,” you sighed, “I finish at 3am.” “Maybe I could walk you home,” he offered, taking in the goosebumps that littered your delicate skin. You shouldn’t be standing out here freezing. You should be inside, curled by a fire with someone who doted on you, cared for you. Nam-Gyu wished he could be that person. “I’m getting a taxi,” you told him. “Thanks though.”

You’d noticed Nam-Gyu plenty of times. He’d been working as a club promoter for as long as you’d been working as a hostess. He’d always seemed sweet, but he tried so hard to impress people who didn’t deserve his attention. He always looked out for you, keeping you company on quieter nights, buying you dinner if your tips didn’t cover your meal. You doubted he made much money either, but he always made sure you didn’t go hungry. He made you laugh, and when it was just the two of you, he was so different to the brash, cocky persona he adopted when he was working. You wondered why he felt the need to act like someone he wasn’t.  You wished you had his never-ending enthusiasm, his ability to keep a smile plastered to his face no matter what. People spoke to him like shit, and yet he never let it phase him. You on the other hand, you were finding it harder and harder to deal with the men who grabbed at you and treated you like a life-size Barbie doll, simply there for their amusement. Your dream was to become a florist, to open your own shop. But dreams required money, and you spent all yours just trying to get by each month. You knew how much Nam-Gyu cared for you, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him he was wasting his time. You were damaged goods, too broken to ever love again.

Nam-Gyu wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting outside for when he saw you. It was raining, a constant drizzle that soaked through his shirt and jeans, plastering his hair to his cheeks. He’d tried to gain entry to the very bar he’d been promoting, but the bouncer wouldn’t admit him. “We’re full,” he was told, despite the constant stream of patrons entering. He didn’t want to go home though, didn’t want to face his parents to whom he was a constant source of disappointment. So, he sat in the rain, waiting for you to show up on your break. This time however, you weren’t alone. There was a man with you, his hands round your waist. You were pushing him away, but he’d just grab you again, clearly unfazed or unaware that you weren’t interested in his advances. “Please stop,” you snapped, pulling your arm away as he tried to plant a sloppy kiss on your lips. “Seriously, fuck off!” “Hey!” Nam-Gyu stood up, marching over to where you stood, his fists balled. “Leave her alone! She said she’s not interested.” He couldn’t make out the man’s response; the guy was too drunk to form words coherently, but apparently not to drunk to harass you. “It’s fine, honestly,” you told him, “I’m used to it. My manager has called him a cab, he’ll be gone soon.” But your eyes were so sad, your mouth trembling as you held back tears. Nam-Gyu wished he could take the sadness away from you, wished he could see a smile light up your face.

He waited for you until the bar closed, just in case anyone else tried to take advantage of you. “Why are you still here?” you sighed, pitying the rain-soaked man who never gave up on you. “I wanted to make sure you got home ok,” he told you, trying to hide the shivers that wracked his body. “I’m fine, honestly.” You started walking, your tips not enough to pay for a taxi, and Nam-Gyu followed. You wished you could open up and let him in; you wished you weren’t so broken. But a lifetime of toxic relationships had left you damaged. You were so used to being hurt that you didn’t think anyone could fix you, not even the sweet club promoter who stood waiting for you in the rain. You walked home in silence, enjoying his company but too scared to admit it to him. You stopped as you got the front of your apartment, turning to say goodnight to the man you desperately wished you could love back.

“I wouldn’t treat you like those men do,” Nam-Gyu whispered, “I’d make sure you never had to work in a place like that ever again. I’d hold you every night and tell you how lucky I was to have you.” “If you hold me without hurting me, you'll be the first who ever did.” You smiled sadly, your hand gently clasping his cheek. He leaned into your touch, relishing the sensation against his freezing cold skin. You left him standing out there, watching you as you made your way up the stairs to your place.

He forced himself to turn and walk home, the rain never once ceasing. Nam-Gyu would probably always be a nobody, but to you, he was desperate to be a someone.

[melercies]

pairing(s): thanos x (gender-neutral) reader (squid game + post-squid game)

warning(s): mature/suggestive themes & parts, deaths (thanos & reader separately), violence/threats, psychological manipulation, my best interpretation of the character and lowercase usage intended.

author's note: THANOS HEADCANONS, i love him so much, it's not even funny anymore along with nam-gyu. correction. love and hate them. that's one thing for sure. please let me know if i missed anything! likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated!

when it comes to thanos, love isn't gentle. it’s fire and chaos, something hungry and relentless. he doesn’t do soft confessions or sweet nothings. love, for him, is about claiming—staking his place in your life so deeply that you can’t imagine a world without him in it.

his version of affection is intense, overwhelming, and sometimes, suffocating. he likes knowing that you’re his, that when you look around the dormitory filled with desperate, terrified people, you don’t see safety in anyone else but him.

he thrives in the chaos of the games. he's loud, unpredictable, and somehow, dangerously charming—always knowing how to manipulate people into doing what he wants. but when it comes to you? there’s an unsettling sincerity beneath all his usual antics. you’re not just another pawn to him. you’re something he refuses to lose.

he makes sure you stick by his side. “you’re safer with me,” he’d say, slinging an arm around your shoulder, fingers digging in just enough to make you feel his grip. “ain’t no one touching you when i’m around.”

if someone so much as looks at you wrong, he makes sure they regret it. he plays it off like a joke, but there’s a deadly edge to his words. “oh, don’t worry about them. they won’t be a problem anymore.” and sure enough, they don’t make it past the next round or you see them keeping their distance.

he steals extra food for you—sometimes by force, sometimes by sheer charisma. but he won’t just hand it over for free. he likes watching you work for it or he expects something from you in return. “c’mon, babe, say please,” he teases, dangling a piece of bread in front of your lips. if you refuse, he shrugs and takes a bite himself, grinning. “suit yourself.”

thanos dangles the piece of bread just out of your reach, his smirk wide and infuriating. "y'know," he drawls, tapping it against his chin like he's thinking, "i was just gonna ask for a little 'please,' but now i think i want something a little sweeter."

you narrow your eyes. "screw you."

he chuckles, all amusement and mischief, before leaning in, his voice dropping to a murmur. "tempting, babe, but let’s start smaller." his eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up. "how ‘bout a kiss?"

your stomach twists—not just from hunger but from the way he’s looking at you, like he already knows your answer. you clench your fists. "not happening."

thanos gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his chest like you wounded him. "oof. that one actually hurt." then, he clicks his tongue. "guess you don’t want the bread that bad, huh?"

you scowl as he pops a bite into his mouth, chewing slowly, savoring it.

"fucking asshole," you mutter under your breath.

he grins. "c’mon. it’s just a little peck—what, afraid you’ll like it?"

you glare at him, refusing to take the bait and give the satisfaction. "i’d rather starve."

he hums, amused. "dramatic. I like that." then, with zero warning, he leans closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, "but I think I’d like it better if you got on your knees and earned it."

your breath catches, and your face burns. "you’re disgusting!"

thanos barks out a laugh, tilting his head. "ohhh, sweetheart, if you think that’s bad, you should hear what I really wanna say." he pops the last of the bread into his mouth, licking his fingers before smirking. "mmm. that could’ve been yours."

you swear under your breath, turning to storm off, but before you can, he grabs your wrist, stopping you. his grin softens—just slightly. "relax, sweetheart. i’ll bring you something tomorrow." then, he leans in just enough to make your heart skip. "but you’re gonna have to make it worth my while."

and just like that, he releases you, strutting off, leaving you hot with frustration—and maybe something else that makes you question yourself.

nights in the sleeping quarters are tense. you never know when someone might try to take you out in your sleep. but thanos? he sleeps like a king. always somehow finding a way to make himself comfortable, stretching out like he owns the place. but you? he keeps you close. “wouldn’t want you wandering off,” he mutters, an arm draped lazily over your waist, pulling you in. “or worse, someone trying to snatch you up.”

he practically thrives off getting under your skin. when the stress of the games starts getting to you, he leans in, lips brushing against your ear. “relax, sweetheart. you’re wound up so tight,” he purrs. “you need me to help you unwind?”

and damn it, he knows exactly what he’s doing. the teasing, the touches, the way his eyes stay locked onto you like you’re the only thing worth looking at. it’s infuriating how much he enjoys watching you squirm under his gaze.

the air in the dormitory was thick with tension, bodies pressed into cramped spaces, the weight of survival hanging heavy over everyone's heads. but none of that matters—not when thanos has you cornered against the cold metal frame of your bunk, his arm braced beside your head, blocking any escape.

damn him.

he's too close, leaning in just enough that you can the warmth of his breath against your cheek. his fingers ghost along your wrist, barely touching, just enough to make you hyper-aware of every movement. his lips curl into that lazy smirk of his, like he already knows how this is going to play out.

"y’know," he murmurs, voice dropping just low enough that only you can hear, "you really don’t hide it well."

your brows furrow. "hide what?"

his eyes flick down to your lips for just a second before snapping back up to meet your gaze, sharp and calculating. "how much you like this."

your breath hitches.

he chuckles as he takes notice, the sound deep, teasing—like he’s enjoying this more than he should. of course he is. he lives for moments like these, where he can get under your skin, make you second-guess yourself. it’s a game to him. one he’s all too good at playing.

"you can act tough all you want," he muses, fingers trailing higher, skimming the inside of your wrist. his touch is light, barely there, but it still sends a shiver up your spine. his grin widens. he notices. "but I see right through you, sweetheart."

you glare, trying to push him back, but he doesn’t budge. if anything, he leans in even closer, his forehead nearly brushing yours. his free hand skims down your waist, just slow enough to be deliberate, before stopping right at the hem of your uniform.

"you’re such a pain in the ass," you mutter, voice tighter than you’d like.

he laughs, tilting his head, fingers curling slightly against your hip. "yeah? and yet, you never stop running into me."

his tone is smug. it's infuriating. he’s enjoying this. the way you shift under his touch, the way your pulse jumps when his lips hover just near your ear—never quite touching, but just enough to make you want to close the distance yourself.

but that’s the game.

and just when you think he might actually push further, just when you’re bracing yourself for the inevitable—he pulls back. steps away like nothing happened, leaving you standing there, heat rising to your cheeks, pulse hammering in your ears.

"you should get some sleep," he muses, stretching his arms behind his head. his voice is casual, like he didn’t just toy with you, like he didn’t just leave you on edge. "big day tomorrow."

you exhale sharply, forcing yourself to glare, but it only makes his smirk widen as he turns back towards nam-gyu whose verbally fighting with se-mi as gyeong-su and min-su watch quietly.

bastard.

if you survive, but he doesn't? at first, it doesn't feel real. the games end, the money is in your hands, and yet, it feels hollow. you're supposed to feel free. instead, all you can think about is him.

thanos, with his wild energy and relentless teasing. thanos, who could make you laugh even when you were both inches from death. thanos, whose cocky grin never faltered—even when he should have been afraid. his absence follows you like a shadow.

you find yourself scanning through crowds, expecting to see that familiar smirk, or that effortless confidence that made him impossible to ignore. but he's not there. he never will be.

you still hear him sometimes. in the quiet moments. "c'mon, you know i'd make this more fun. don't tell me you're getting boring without me." you tell yourself it's just your imagination. your mind is just tricking you to believe he's still with you. just the lingering echos of someone who burned too brightly, too chaotically, to last. and yet, some part you doesn't want to let go.

an article of clothing, a shirt or jacket of his—is still in your closet. You don’t wear it, but you don’t get rid of it either. You tell yourself it’s just another piece of the past, but deep down, you know the truth. it's proof that, for a little while, he was real. that you were real.

and some nights, when the silence becomes unbearable, you slip it on and close your eyes.

if he survives, but you don't? at first, he laughs. a short, bitter sound emitting from his lips, like he's trying to convince himself that it's all just a bad joke once he hears your player number being announced or you're laying in front of him motionlessly. "nah, they're not gone. they're just screwing with me, right?"

but when no sarcastic response comes, no exasperated sigh, no teasing remark to fill the space or your presence showing up anywhere, the reality starts to sink in. and it burns.

thanos doesn't do grief. not the way most people do. he drinks too much. fights too much. spends money like it's an illusion—because, to him, it might as well be. the prize means nothing without you there to roll your eyes at his ridiculous spending habits or call him an idiot when he does something reckless.

your absence is a wound he refuses to acknowledge, but it festers beneath the surface. occasionally, he finds himself turning, expecting you to be there, leaning against the wall with that unimpressed look. but there's nothing. just the crushing weight of the silence.

if he had the chance to trade places with you? some nights, he thinks he would. but instead, he lives. because even if you're gone, he knows you wouldn't want him to waste it. and maybe, just maybe, living is his own twisted way of keeping you close.

he never talks about you. not to anyone. not even when he's alone. because if he does, it makes it real. and if it's real, then that means he lost. and thanos hates losing.

but when no one's around, when the liquor stops working and the noise in his head refuses to quiet down, he’ll pull out something of yours—something small, something insignificant, something only you would know the importance of.

and for a brief moment, he lets himself remember. then, just as quickly, he shoves it away. because memories don't change reality. and reality is that you're gone. and he's still here. alone.

[trickbxbes]

𝐀𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐫: [𝗖𝗵𝗽 𝟭] 𝗛𝗲𝗿𝗼

Summary: Drowning in your father's debt, it didn't seem like there was a way out. Until a suited man offers you a lifesaver. But you soon realize it's nothing of the sort, but neither is your life on the outside. Stuck between two evils, which will you choose?

Warnings: Reader is an exotic dancer, violence, death, the usual Squid Game territory stuff, slowburn,

Word Count: 2,360

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

          You’re greeted with the distasteful scent of old rainwater and garbage as you enter an alleyway. You carefully pull your jacket closer to your body. Your nerves were on fire. That terrible anxiety that you couldn’t ignore, as this was your survival instinct. You gulp, clutching your purse tightly. 

“Ah, there she is!” 

A male enters the alley from behind you, making you turn and look. There was not one, but two men. The sound of pebbles being crushed under footsteps made you look to the other exit in the alleyway. Two more men approached, having you surrounded. You didn’t flee, recognizing them and knowing what they were here for. The first man gestures ahead at you. “Not polite to leave a girl waiting, we know.” 

You adjust your posture, feigning confidence. 

“I didn’t mind.”

You remain still as the four men surround you, waiting. The main man holds his hand out expectantly. “Now, you gonna make this easy on us? Hm?” 

Without another word, you take out a stack of cash from your bag and place it in his hands. The man scoffs, skimming through the thin paper to briefly count. He holds up the stack, cocking an eyebrow. 

“Where’s the rest?” 

That anxiety doubled in your gut, your skin crawling. With a dry mouth, you say, 

“T-that’s all I have right now.” 

The man sighs, handing the cash to his associate. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. 

“This is even less than last time.” You’re quick to defend yourself.

 “I-It was a slow week at Jenny’s. But we’re hosting a big birthday party next week, that’ll certainly bring in some well paying customers.” 

You take a shaky step back and are met with a mucky cement wall. The men close in, like a pride of lions stalking their prey. Your eyes dart about, trying to calculate a way to get out of this. It didn’t look like these men were going to listen though. The head man tilts his head, taking out a switchblade. You whimper slightly in fear, your heart dropping at the sight of silver. Two men grab your arms, keeping you still. You’re barely able to attempt to jerk free before you feel the cold blade on your cheek. 

“This isn’t even your problem, you know. Your deadbeat dad should be paying up, not you.” 

At the mere mention of your father in that form, you’re filled with anger. Your eyebrows furrow, your face contorted in rage. What the hell did these loan sharks know about you and your father? But your nerves were too high for you to act tough. 

“Look, I-I even came all the way out here to meet you. Just give me—“

“Hey!”

A new voice enters the fray. All of you look over to see a young adult man. He was tall, and had medium length black hair that reached his lower neck. He looks in between you and the men, and started to jog over. “Get the hell away from her!”

 His shouting was bound to draw the attention of more people, the goons harassing you knew that. They look to the man with their own displeasure. “We’ll see you soon.” That’s all you’re ended with before they leave. Despite them being gone, you didn’t feel the relief you were owed. You knew this was only a temporary release. You needed money, fast. 

“Are you okay?” 

The mysterious man asks you kindly. You look up into his dark eyes and force a smile. 

“Yeah, yeah! Thanks for that, hero.” 

You reply sweetly. He seemed surprised by the title and rubs the back of his neck. “I-It’s what anybody decent would’ve done.” He deflects the subject back to something more urgent. “Who were those guys? Did you know them?” 

If you were to explain the complexities of the truth, you’d probably overshare the boy to death. You didn’t have time for that. So instead, you come up with a quick lie. 

“I-I dunno. I think they were trying to mug me or something. Assholes.” You cross your arms. Thankfully, the man seemed to believe your claim. 

“Well… hopefully they’re gone now. Oh-! D-Do you want me to walk you to wherever you’re going?” 

Ah, a gentleman. As you’re about to speak, you feel a raindrop touch your cheek. You make a small noise of surprise, wiping the droplet and casting your eyes to the sky. The clouds were thick with dark gray. You smile nervously at the man. 

“Ah, no no, no need. I don’t wanna bother. I’m just headed back to the subway station and that’s right around the corner.” 

He visibly loosens up at your words, perhaps finding relief that you would be out of harm’s way sooner rather than later. 

“Ah, okay, okay. Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I’d better get going now. But, thanks again.” 

You and the man go your separate ways, heading in opposite directions. You weren’t lying about the distance to the station, it really wasn’t far at all. 

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

           Eventually, you’d find yourself sitting down at a bench down below. The subway track was empty, almost like the venue itself. There were maybe four or five people lurking about. But three were walking away, while two men were sitting on a bench on the other side of the tracks. 

But just as you were about to take a second to actually breathe, you’re greeted by someone stopping right in front of you. 

A tall man wearing a suit held a briefcase while staring down at you, an empty but somehow friendly smile on his face. 

“Hello, do you have a moment? I’d like to ask you something.” 

You recognized his mannerisms and general output as a salesman. Why he was in a dirty subway to advertise was beyond you. You give a halfway smile, about to have him move along. But your voice is caught in your throat when you spot people from the corner of your eye. 

The loan sharks from before. 

“Yep! Yep, what’s up?” You didn’t have the luxury to deny his invitation. 

The man seemingly smiled a little wider, just a smidge. He sets his briefcase beside you on the bench, just as the goons catch up. The leader smirks lightly in your direction, stopping with his men. 

“Right then, let’s go finish our conversation, hm?” 

Your jaw tightens, you weren’t able to hide behind someone this time. You had to face the music. What horrors awaited? Were they going to make you sign a contract to sell your kidneys? Your eyes? Your limbs? You didn’t know. You didn’t want to know. But just as you were to stand up, the Salesman turns and faces the men. 

“We’re in the middle of our own conversation. If you wouldn’t mind waiting, I’d like to speak with her first.” 

Your jaw drops. Were the Gods feeling extra merciful today? Whatever the case, you weren’t going to let it go to waste. You sit up and put your hands in your lap. You wait patiently and politely for the goons reply, knowing how pissed off they were. They glare slightly at the taller man, and go sit at a bench a little ways away silently. 

“Shit…” You sigh under your breath. When you lift your head, you see the man waiting for your attention, making you regain your composure. “Uh—uh… so, what’s up?”  

The man opens up his briefcase and, to your surprise, holds up two envelopes. One red one blue. Ddakji. 

“Would you like to play a game?” 

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

         You sat on the subway, thinking about the events that just occured. 

Slap after slap in the face, you kept going. It wasn’t even about the money anymore, it was pure determination. But you had actually managed to win a few rounds. The thrill of the possible win was greater than the risk of the slap. It was a high better than any drug you could imagine. So, when the male stopped and handed you a card, you were more than a little shocked. 

The next events pass by like a blur. The subway that would take you back to your city arriving. Somehow, the man seemingly knew this. 

You scrambling to get onto the tram before the goons from earlier could catch up. The salesman handing you your purse that you nearly forgot in the panic. You remember him giving you a faint wink as you get on the subway, clutching your purse tightly as you leave all the men behind. 

You look at the card he gave to you. It was so simple, but somehow eerie as all hell. You didn’t trust it as far as you could throw it. But the idea was intriguing to say the least. Playing simple games to make enough money to pay off all your debt? It sounded too good to be true. You knew better, it definitely was too good to be true. 

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

         Jenny’s. You didn’t know if you hated the scent of the club or not. It reminded you of all you had to endure just doing this job alone. Being an exotic dancer was no easy feat. An extremely straining job, both physically and mentally. But the money was more than you’d normally get at a minimum wage joint. That’s what kept you here in this hellhole. 

You finished up your time on the stage, now walking the floor with other women. You’ve got a knack for picking out customers who tip well. Everyone’s got a tell. Whether it’s their hair, their shoes or their demeanor, you could see it. You needed to find someone egotistical, someone you could milk out a good 500 won from at minimum.  

Then, you spot him. A man making his way to the VIP section of Jenny’s. His shoes were one of a kind, and they didn’t look bad either. His bright purple hair was a clear indicator for the demeanor you were looking for. An easy target. 

You sashay your way there, security letting you pass. Your heels clack with the staircase floors till you reach the top. The man was sitting back amongst a black cushion couch. He wasn’t alone, a few other men sitting around. Blinged out men, one might add. Now here’s where you might’ve struck jackpot. But, you’re no stranger to this, you needed to play it safe. You didn’t want to bite off more than you could chew. 

Stopping in front, you lean down, pushing your hands against your knees. You made sure to set all your attention onto the purple haired individual. He sits up a little, taking in your beauty. 

“Hola, señorita.” His language change catches you off guard. You give him an easy smile. 

“Designer.” You reach to touch the jacket he wore, but purposefully stop yourself. You leave a faint hint of desire to want more. He seemingly takes the bait, beckoning you closer. “You can touch it.” He smirks softly. It was almost too easy, he was too confident for his own good. “You wanna go somewhere? It must be hard being the most interesting person here.” Your hand gently brushes his hair, making the male lean into your touch with an inhale. 

But then, he grabs your hand. 

“No, beautiful.” He says in English, making you blink in confusion. After a few moments, you’re able to understand what he said. He continues, 

“I’m afraid I’m only here to look, no private dances. But I’m about to come to a huge influx of cash, gorgeous. And when I do, I’ll be sure to return to you, my lovely.” He finishes with another English phrase, giving you a thumb finger heart. 

You knew there was no point in trying to mooch off his ‘friends’, they’d know they were second choice sloppy seconds. This was a bust. So, you click your tongue and force a smile. 

“I look forward to it.” 

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

         When you finally made it home for the night, you’re careful to not make too much noise. The television was still on. It emanated the only light in the room. Your father was passed out on the couch, his snores being louder than the volume of the tv. Empty bottles of soju took the space of the once clean coffee table. 

Taking off your shoes, you set down your stuff. You walk to the dining table, where a yellow paper lies remained.

 “EVICTION NOTICE” 

It was hardly a comforting reminder. You had left it there to make sure you and your dad didn’t forget. Today, you haven’t made nearly enough to get the sharks to back off. You were screwed. You knew you were lucky they haven’t showed up to your house to kidnap you yet. 

Maybe some sort of miracle would happen and your dad would get his job back. Maybe you’d acquire some sort of cash that could solve all your problems. 

The thought leads you to shuffle through your purse, pulling out the card again. As you hold it, you limp to the kitchen and open the fridge. On the door was a photo held there by a cheap magnet. It was of you and your father when you were but a child. Both of you smiling brightly at a playground. 

Hissing softly, you hold your leg. You lift your foot and rotate your ankle. Your job was physically very taxing. 

You’re pleasantly greeted with an empty fridge. Today was your dad’s turn to get some food, but it seemed his priorities stopped him from doing so. You sigh, sort of expecting this, and close the fridge again. 

You flip the card over and read the number written out. Your eyes linger on the pages a moment, trying to see if this was really what you were going to do. But, did you even have a choice? 

Taking your phone out of your purse, you take a deep breath, and dial the number. There’s a few seconds of ringing before you’re told to state your name. With a heavy heart, and a shaky voice, you set your fate in stone. 

“(L,n) (Y,n).”

[thanosscross]

Hello hello!! Welcome to my little meet your writer section!! 🫶🫶 I’m so excited you’re here! Welcome!

I felt like with you all being my lovelies and being so kind and amazing, you might want to get to know the writer behind some of your favorite stories of mine! 🫶💕☺️ please keep in mind this is a judgement free page, where none of it will be tolerated, unless we’re judging the man who shall not be named 🙄 so welcome! Get to know me here 🫶🫶

Hi! I’m currently 19 turning 20 this February 5th! 🫶 which I’m very excited about,

I go by she/they, really anything you’d like to call me! I’m somewhat the middle child, I have an older brother and two younger brothers, so I’m the only daughter/niece/granddaughter on my dad’s side (my dad’s only child). I grew up with somewhat of a rocky childhood so I’ve always got a soft spot for kids, I’ve become the ‘Mary Poppins’ of my family rather quickly so I’ve always got a kid on my hip, whether its my cousin, youngest brother (5&6), or my fiancée’s niece (5).

I’ve been engaged for almost a year now, I met my fiancee working at a local grocery store, She came through my check-out line, before applying a few weeks later. I ended up being the person to train her for the job position, and ever since then we hit it off, We were both in pretty toxic relationships before, so whenever we got together it was a little weird, but we quickly found a healthy groove together, and it's just been happy times ever since <3 A lot of people say it's too soon, or we're too young, but we prefer it this way, it gets all of the big stressful stuff out of the way, that way we'll have more time to focus on each other and building our family in the future <3. I was always taught that whenever you find the person you know is not only a good relationship partner but also a good business partner, you've found the one, and nothing is too fast, and I know I found my perfect partner in life <33.

I like writing a lot, I’ve been writing since I was about, 9 or 10? So almost full decade now, holy shit, I started out on wattpad, moved to writing on paper, and then eventually moved to tumblr around the time I turned 14? I like to call myself a 'detailed writer', I think of it as a writer who is more focused with writing out physical feelings and emotions. I like my stories to not only be easy to read, but I also like my stories written in a way where you can really picture or imagine the feelings behind the words, I feel like those are the best stories to read, in my opinion <33

I have five animals in total (I know! A lot!) I have three dogs, and two guinea pigs, MooMoo, Charlie, Daisy, Winnie, and Honey Bunz, who are all pain in my asses, but I wouldn't know what to do without all of them <3. For the longest time I wanted to be a lawyer, then it changed to a police officer, all because my original dream of being a firefighter was kinda taken from me whenever I was diagnosed with something that prevents me from safely working in overheated conditions. Now I'm set on writer, or just in the public eye, I don't really mind how, preferably some type of dancer (Competition teams/back-dancer/etc) Or a screen writer, I just want a position in the public eye where I'm actually heard and not just drowned out over the sounds of everybody else (Told you lovelies, rough childhood) I want my words to mean something, I want to be a voice for the people who can't find theirs yet <3

Favorites? Music wise? It's a little all over the place but my top five? (not in order) BigBang, ATEEZ, ENHYPEN, Sir-Mix-Alot, and stray kids <3 Shows? Squid game definitely, or a spin off series of the walking dead that's recently come out, The Walking Dead: The ones who live, I also watch 911, and the Rookie (I really miss being a firefighter when I had the chance). Movies? Really anything horror, I'll always be excited about a new scary movie that comes out, I've been like that since I was itty bitty though >< Jobs? I'd have to say either being a firefighter at only 16-17, or being the Easter Bunny one time at my local mall, those two were the most fun!

My style? I have three different types of styles, I either dress in Baggy Clothes (cargo pants, baggy t-shirts, my black jacket) or tight clothes (undershirts, skinny jeans, a flannel or button up, kept open, to go over it) or a mixture of both 😂 I’ve been mainly sticking with my baggier clothes lately though 🤌💕

Hmmmm...Last get to know me section..What should I put? We'll get a lil personal. I've struggled with severe depression and anxiety since I was around 11 or 12, whenever I had something bad happen to me at 13, it just caused it to become worse, along with other diagnoses. This one is a little more recent, and I'm still a little iffy about sharing it, just because a lot of people give it a bad rep, but I was recently diagnosed Bi-Polar. It wasn't that much of a shock, almost every female in my family has it, and it made a lot of sense for some things I experienced, especially the manic part of it. I've slowly been learning just because I was raised around people who are Bi-Polar who weren't good people, doesn't mean I'm a bad person just because we share the same diagnosis. I go to the doctor, take meds, just like anybody else <3, Some of you lovelies might question why I got so personal on here about it, but for the few that have the same thoughts, know you're not alone, I'm in the same boat with you, so why not us hang out and chill while we're here <33

And without further a-do....

Hi! Lovely to see you here lovely <3 this is the face behind some of your favorite stories! 💕🥰 so glad we can finally meet!

[dr-spectre]

I watched Prochara's latest video and I wanna say something.

If Splatoon 4 becomes a live service game with pay walled cosmetics I will jump off of the empire state building.

One of the greatest aspects of Splatoon is the customisation, if you start locking that shit behind a pay wall, people are NOT gonna like it and its going to seriously damage the community. I don't wanna pay 30 bucks for an Octoling armour set. This is Nintendo we're talking about here, they wouldn't charge shit fairly at all. Get ready to spend 7 dollars for some sunglasses for your Inkling.

The ONLY thing I want to be paid if they are gonna go for the live service route is the single-player content. Make all the multiplayer stuff free but make the hero mode paid and future DLC expansions. I like the wave idea for Splatoon 3 but it felt very underdeveloped due to the 2 year lifespan of Splatoon 3. Plus one of those waves was just an old hub and that's all. Give us 3 waves at the minimum with a 4 year lifespan and have each wave add a new single-player campaign that experiments with a new genre like what Side Order did. That would be absolutely fire.

Have the main single player focus on the new Idols, then wave 1 on Deep Cut, wave 2 on Off the Hook and wave 3 on the Squid Sisters to end it off. That would be the ideal in my mind.

DO NOT GO LIVE SERVICE WITH SPLATOON NINTENDO!!!!! DON'T DO IT!!!!! YOU WILL HURT THE SERIES!!!!! LET THE DEVELOPERS COOK!!! DON'T MAKE THEM RUSH SHIT PLEASE!!!

We don't need a repeat of Splatoon 2 where everything at launch felt very rushed and lacking in content, including the hero mode. Let's not go through that again, okay?

[nosyp]

Nosyp's Masterlist

« Decryption key »

Unbolded/not underlined = not available (coming soon)

⚠️ Please do tell me if there's an error or anything wrong

Date format = DD/MM/YY (for last edited in #)

Movies/TV Shows ~

Alice in Borderland

DC Comics

Game of Thrones

House of the Dragon

Hunger Games

Marvel Comics

Men in Black

Slashers

Squid Game

The Hobbit

The Lord of the Rings

Outer Banks

Others (Divergent, Bullet train, Gladiator, etc)

Anime ~

Attack on Titan

Black Butler

Blue lock

Boku no Hero Academia (My Hero Academia)

Bungou Stray Dogs

Castlevania

Free!

Haikyuu

Hunter x Hunter

Jujutsu Kaisen

Kimetsu no Yaiba (Demon Slayer)

Kuroko No Basket (Kuroko's Basketball)

Moriarty The Patriot

Owari No Seraph (Seraph of the end)

Sk8 the infinity

Slam Dunk

Solo Leveling

The Disastrous Life of Saiki K

Tokyo Revengers

Others (Assassination classroom, kakegurui, death note)

Games ~

Call of Duty

Five Nights At Freddy's

Genshin Impact

Homicipher

Honkai Star Rail

Ikemen Vampire

Love and Deepspace

Lovebrush Chronicles

Mortal Kombat

Mystic Messenger

Obey Me

Resident Evil

Tears of Themis

Twisted Wonderland

Wuthering Waves

Others

Books

Around the World in Eighty Days

A Song of Ice and Fire

Diary of a Wimpy Kid

Harry Potter

Worldshaker

Others

Others ~

Creepypasta

Greek mythology

Historical Figures

Miscellaneous

Monsters

Original Characters

[quanruionechancepls]

The Albatross - Chapter 3: Illicit Affairs

Hwang Inho x Reader

Content Warning: Dubious Consent, Threesome, NSFW

For more information, check Masterlist

-----------

You sat on a brown leather couch, sipping on a glass of wine in a dimly lit room. Behind you, Inho’s click-clacking on the keyboard echoed throughout the entire room. His mask rested on your lap after you picked it up so you could sit down.

“Why are you not watching? This is your job, you know?” You giggled. Somehow, you had switched roles with Inho in the midst of all your planning and stressing for the 2017 Squid games. It was the first time for both of you, and you required heavy guidance from your dad. “You know that I’m the one who should be handling the paperwork, right?”

Inho sighed, turning off his laptop and slamming it shut. He walked over to the couch and flopped onto it, reaching for his mask. You swatted his hand away. “You can barely see with it on. How are you going to do anything when your field of vision is obstructed?”

The room fell into silence and remained that way as Inho refused to respond. You didn’t mind, as you were more interested in seeing the response of the VIPs to your work. You also wanted to see how it would play out. This year's games were Red Light, Green Light, Capture the Flag, a Scavenger Hunt, Hopscotch, where two people were tied at the foot, Musical Chairs, and finally, Chess. You were on day 5: Musical Chair day.

Red Light, Green Light proceeded as usual. Everyone would go in, egotistical, confident, and naive, thinking that it was a regular childhood game. At some point, someone would fail to freeze during Red Light, where they would be shot down, and chaos would ensue. Flocks of panicked people forgetting about the game, fleeing to and banging on the door, begging to be set free as bullets fired and killed them. In a sense, it weeded out the weak. Red Light, Green Light was undoubtedly your easiest game, and anyone who couldn’t pass it didn’t deserve the prize money in the first place.

Capture the Flag was more brutal than you expected. The teams were split into odd numbers and even numbers, forcing the ‘X’ and ‘O’ players to cooperate for one game. It was a simple game, really. Each team had to capture the flag of the other team and run back to their home goal to score a point. The opposing team could tag them and place them in ‘jail,’ which they could then be freed from when one of their teammates tagged the one standing closest to the line dividing both teams. The game lasted an hour and a half, and the first team to score two points would win the game. Violence towards other players resulted in elimination, an unlucky 170 setting an example for everyone else after the first thing he did was try to punch his way through. One twist that the players likely didn’t expect was that on top of the losing team being eliminated, everyone in jail was also taken out. Teams should be loyal to each other, after all. It easily wiped out 60% of participants, and greedy players marvelled at the stacks of money that fell into the taunting piggy bank.

The Scavenger Hunt was a nice break from the brutality of Capture the Flag. The reward was extra food rations for the day in the form of hotdogs Gongyoo bought at the bakery. 50 hotdogs were hidden throughout an obstacle course, with players facing monkey bars, slides, and stairs. The only people left standing were people with hotdogs in their hands. Players were prohibited from snatching the bread out of another person’s hand and claiming it for themselves, and both of them would be eliminated.

You didn’t have to worry about having too many players leftover, because Hopscotch had either driven people insane or sent them into a state of mania. Two people tied up by the leg, having to somehow balance on one leg as they bent down to pick up a small puck. Of course, there were breaks where they could have two, or even all their feet on the ground, but the less coordinated didn’t make it that far. Stumbling was accepted, but if anyone toppled over, both would be eliminated. It effectively narrowed down the pool to 20 players, falling to 14 after a massacre took place when the lights were out.

That brings you to Musical Chairs. Each round was one chair short, and without fail, fists were thrown to fight for the last remaining chair. The music you chose were all popular Korean classics, like 10 Minutes from Lee Hyori. There wasn’t a single player who didn’t know the songs of your choice. Not only did it effectively narrow the game down to two players for the final game of Chess, but everyone had at least one splotch of a nasty hue of purple on their face.

You had to admit, you did really well for your first time. Perhaps it was slightly overly brutal, because you were worried about not having enough players towards the end, but it seemed to work out somehow. As the last two players, 421, an attractive, young female foreigner struggling to pay off her student debt, and 034, a middle aged man who fled Japan to escape the Yakuza, were escorted away for a luxurious meal and bath, Gongyoo sent you a text.

-

Gongyoo: You did a good job!

Gongyoo: I’ve never been so entertained in my life!

Gongyoo: I feel like there’s so many twists this year.

You: I’m glad you like it!

Gongyoo: I was wondering why you made me buy those hotdogs a few days ago.

Gongyoo: I didn’t think you’d use it for that.

You: Well, I thought it made the most sense.

You: We can’t exactly give them something like a toy.

You: What are a bunch of adults going to do with a toy made for a 5 year old?

Gongyoo: Good point.

Gongyoo: You know, I was really surprised when it was revealed you were going to be the next Host.

Gongyoo: I’m glad I was one of the first to find out.

You: Of course you’d find out quickly!

You: You’re one of the highest ranking staff members!

You: Also, why were you surprised?

Gongyoo: Your brother had no interest in the games.

Gongyoo: Your dad hid you so well that no one knew of your existence.

Gongyoo: I thought the games would end when he died.

Gongyoo: I guess I don’t have to worry about it anymore.

Gongyoo: I don’t have to worry about not having a place to go back to or not having a master.

You: Thank you for being so loyal to us.

You: I’ll always trust you to do your best for these games.

Gongyoo: Thank you.

Gongyoo: I’ll work hard to not disappoint you. (Read)

-

You ate dinner alone in your room, the sharp shriek of your metal cutlery filling the room as Fly Me to the Moon looped and restarted several times. It was a beautiful song, a wonderful song to waltz to with a lover, if you had one.

Despite Inho being away during the day, he made his mark on your life. From his razor and shaving cream remaining tucked away in your bathroom drawer, his half-empty whiskey glasses, the lingering scent of his cologne, to his Fly Me to the Moon vinyl that played nearly 24/7. You didn’t know how he discovered the song, nor how he received that specific rendition of the piece, but it was a lovely soundtrack to relax to.

You weren’t particularly concerned about his whereabouts, nor about his safety. For now, VIPs knew he was off limits due to an incident where you gave a man the beating of a lifetime after he whispered vulgar words into his ear. You had snatched his cane from his hand, pummeling him even as the nerves in your arm seemed as if they were on fire, the whipping sound of his skin breaking resounding through the room as everyone else could only shiver and gasp. You only stopped after he let out a ragged wheeze, coughing, and spitting out blood. Despite Gongyoo’s annoyance, he promised you he wouldn’t let them harm Inho. Luckily, during this time of the year, he couldn’t go very far anyways, and you could always go to the security room and watch him from the cameras.

Humming, you placed your empty plate onto a tray as someone knocked on your door. You quickly reached for your masquerade mask, fastening the string behind your head and shifting it to center it. Opening the door, you breathed a sigh of relief when you realized it was only Gongyoo. You motioned for him to enter.

“Would you like a drink?” You asked as you took your mask off.

“What are my options?” He entertained you with a chuckle.

“Whiskey and wine. I only like red wine, so that’s all I have.” You hated whiskey too, but unless he didn’t have access to it, it was all Inho drank.

“I’ll have wine. Whiskey is too strong,” Gongyoo declared, and you handed him a freshly poured glass as he sat down and swished it.

“Why are you here?”

“I’ve noticed some suspicious behaviour from the Frontman.”

Your blood ran cold as you stiffly turned around. “What did you see?” You questioned, your tone commanding.

He smiled and took a sip, looking up to make eye contact with you. “What did he tell you before he left?”

“He said he has something to announce to the VIPs and he would eat dinner in his office.”

Gongyoo hummed, an ambiguous response. “There’s a possibility that he ate dinner in his office,” he started, “But I didn’t see him with the VIPs.”

You placed your glass on the table and sat down beside Gongyoo, who offered his glass to you, the sparkle in his eyes begging you to drink. You obliged him, taking a long gulp as the alcohol warmed your throat, the wine leaving an aromatic, sweet, fermented aftertaste in your mouth. “Answer my previous question,” you ordered, feeling yourself getting impatient as the alcohol loosened your nerves.

“You know how I always stay in a room near the guest rooms of the VIPs?” He asked, and you nodded. “I mistakenly opened a room that wasn’t my own. I thought it was a VIP’s, and as I was about to apologize, I saw Player 421, freshly showered and smelling like roses, in a silk nightgown.”

You balled your hand into a fist, ignoring the stinging of your acrylic nails digging into your skin as your jaw clenched. “Where was he?”

Gongyoo shrugged. “I don’t know. He wasn’t in the room when I found her. I only know that he was the one who snuck her out. No one else has the authority to do that other than the two of you. Well, your dad does too, but he’s never done something like this in the past.”

You sighed, cupping the sides of your face with your hand before pushing your overgrown bangs out of your face. “Do the VIPs know about this yet?”

“I assume they don’t. I found her purely by accident. If I hadn’t opened that door, Inho could’ve easily snuck her out the next morning.”

You sighed, slumping into the couch as you struggled to figure out what to do. You could very easily kill her, but that would compromise the last game and cause an uproar from the VIPs. If you didn’t kill her and they somehow found her, they would accuse you of rigging the game. Actually, it seemed there would be an uproar no matter what you did.

“Struggling to figure out what to do?” Gongyoo chuckled, saying exactly what was on your mind as if he was a mind reader, and pointing at your untouched glass. You picked it up and clinked it against his, both of you throwing your head back to take a sip at the same time.

“The VIPs are going to be so pissed,” you bemoaned.

“Would you like me to help you?”

“If you have any ideas, sure.”

He shifted his body to face you, his hands making grand gestures as the wine swooshed around in the glass. “I can wake up earlier tomorrow. I can stop Inho from letting her re-enter the games.”

You cocked an eyebrow, intrigued by his plan. “And the VIPs?”

Gongyoo laughed. “They can choose what to do with her.”

“Are you sure you’d make it before Inho?”

“I’ll wake up at 5 if I have to. We can’t let her back into the games anymore, she knows too much about what’s going on behind the scenes,” he proclaimed, and you nodded in agreement.

“I don’t think Inho intends to let her back in the first place,” you suspected, and Gongyoo’s jaw dropped. “I mean, think about it. She was going to receive luxury treatment either way for surviving this far. Why would he step in, only to give her a taste of luxury, then send her back? He surely has other motives.”

“What do you think he’ll do?”

You shrugged. “It could be anything. Maybe he’ll set her free. Maybe he’ll fuck her and throw her away,” your blood boiled as a particularly irritating thought popped into your head. “Maybe he wants to date her.”

Gongyoo patted your back. “I don’t think he wants to date her. Everyone knows he still loves his wife,” he reassured you.

“Either way, can you catch her before Inho does?” You changed the topic, and Gongyoo agreed immediately.

Finishing the rest of his wine, he stood up and bowed to you with his hands at his side. He held out his hand, waiting for you to place it in his before planting a chaste kiss. “I won’t let you down,” he affirmed, walking out and closing the door behind him.

-

You were getting ready for bed, towel wrapped around your damp hair, when Inho returned. You stared at him curiously as he took off his mask and hopped into the shower. If Gongyoo hadn’t snitched on him earlier, you would’ve never suspected anything was wrong.

Ten minutes later, he left the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, with visible droplets on his back and torso while he furiously rubbed his hair with a towel to dry it. Your eyes never left his body, wandering as his muscles flexed everytime he moved. Your eyes landed on his wrists, which were still slightly red from your previous session.

Flipping the blankets aside, you stood up to blowdry your hair beside him. He opened your skincare products and applied them randomly, very obviously having no clue what any of them were. Moisturizer, toner, then serum. You suppressed a giggle, but didn’t bother correcting him.

Once you were finished with the blow dryer, you wordlessly offered it to him, to which he nodded and began drying his hair. As you watched him, you realized how unusual it was for you to see Inho with his hair down. After he became the Frontman— actually, ever since he accepted your conditions— he never went a day without styling his hair in a gelled, slicked back style. The only time his natural bangs fell just above his eyes were times like now, when he’d just finished showering, or on the rare occasion he fell ill and could barely get out of bed, let alone style his hair.

When he shut off the blow dryer and unplugged it, wrapping the cord into a neat coil, you collapsed onto the bed and snuggled underneath the sheets. To your surprise, Inho walked to the other side and tucked himself in opposite to you.

“Not sleeping on the couch tonight?” You teased him. The only time you shared a room with him was during this special week, otherwise you slept separately. It was out of pure laziness that you didn’t construct a new room for him to sleep in, and as a result, he slept on the couch for the first few days to avoid you.

“Haven’t slept a wink on that couch. I’ll die if I have to do it again,” he mumbled sleepily, his breathing stabilizing into a rhythmic pattern shortly after. He wasn’t kidding about being tired.

Turning around, you slept on the edge of the bed, giving Inho sufficient space to move around if needed. He wasn’t a tosser by any means, so perhaps the space was just to prevent him from getting kicked off the bed by you when you fell asleep. As your eyes fluttered shut and you began getting drowsy, you welcomed the sweet embrace of sleep.

-

The ringing of your alarm woke you up with a start, as it did on most days. Opening your phone to turn it off, the time read 6am. You usually started your day at 8, but today was a special case. You needed to see what would become of Player 421.

Behind you, Inho lowly groaned as he shifted underneath the sheets. It seemed your alarm woke him up too. “What time is it?” He grumbled, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

“Six in the morning.”

“What the hell are you awake at 6 for? The games don’t start until 9.”

“I thought I’d try doing a morning workout today,” you lied, putting your slippers on as you began brushing your teeth. After a moment of the sound of rustling bedsheets, Inho followed you to the washroom and began brushing his teeth as well.

There were still leftovers from the hotdogs Gongyoo bought for the scavenger hunt, so you grabbed one from the fridge in the VIP lounge and warmed it up in the microwave. You were surprised no one had taken it and eaten it. Perhaps the top 1% didn’t like hotdogs.

None of the VIPs had awakened yet, so you were free to walk around without your mask, although you still took precautions to maintain your anonymity and wore it anyway. Last night, Gongyoo already texted you the room in which 421 stayed in.

VIP 26.

Every year, there would always be one or two VIPs who failed to attend the Squid Games. Sometimes, it was a vacation that overlapped, an unexpected business bust in their company, or even a family death. This year, VIP 26 died, and his son inherited his company, thus, his room was vacant.

You knocked on the door twice, and Gongyoo opened the door, stepping aside to let you in. 421, who appeared to have just woken up, stared at the two of you with a mix of confusion and fear. “Who are you?” She asked you.

“Who let you into this room?” You countered with another question.

Before she could open her mouth, Gongyoo silenced her by putting his index finger to his mouth. “I’d recommend you answer her first.”

Pursing her lips, her fingers gripped the sheets as she trembled. “A man in a black mask. It was right before I was about to eat dinner.”

You sighed. Gongyoo hadn’t lied to you. Inho really did compromise the games for this one girl. “Did he promise you anything?” You pressed.

She shook her head. “He said he couldn’t save me, but he told me what the next game was. He said it was up to me to save myself.”

Truthfully, somewhere deep down in your icy heart, you did pity this girl. She had come so far, only one game away from winning the grand prize. She had a very good chance of winning Chess and leaving as a new woman, but not anymore. Giving her a gentle smile, you began to speak, “You can no longer be saved. No one can save you because the Frontman couldn’t stay impartial.”

As her lips quivered and she suppressed a choked sob, you slowly walked in circles around her bed. “You see, the point of these games is to give people equality when society can’t,” you leaned in close enough to see every blemish on her face, “If this equality is compromised, the player must be eliminated. It is prohibited to bribe our staff, and it is prohibited for our staff to show favouritism.”

You ignored her anguished sobs behind you as you turned to Gongyoo. “At 8, open the doors to her room. Let the VIPs discover her,” you ordered, and he nodded. Before leaving, you remembered you never answered 421’s question. “I’ll answer your question now. I am training to be the next Host of these games.”

And with that, you left Gongyoo to monitor her last few hours alive.

-

Your walkie buzzed as Inho’s frantic voice called for you. “The VIPs are angry! They’re claiming the games are rigged!”

“Give me a moment. I’ll be there soon,” you replied calmly, placing your fork down and wiping the corners of your lips, applying a new layer of lip gloss. Your half-eaten tiramisu was abandoned in your room as you put on your mask and made your way to VIP 26.

A crowd had gathered outside the room, some VIPs dressed all prim and proper with their masks on while others were dishevelled, wearing only a robe and not even bothering to put on their mask. The only thing they all had in common were they were very, very angry.

Gongyoo blocked the entrance with his body as they inched closer, while Inho stood behind him. “Please step back. The Host will be here soon,” he attempted to calm them.

“I thought these games were supposed to be fair! What the hell is she doing here?” A masked VIP yelled.

“Who the hell brought her here? They should be eliminated immediately!” Another man shouted.

Behind him, a woman gasped. “The Frontman was a previous player, remember? He must’ve snuck her in!”

This realization enraged them even more, many balling their fists, on the precipice of starting a fight. “We should’ve taken you that day, like we planned! You should’ve never been allowed to become the Frontman!” A man screamed, pointing an accusatory finger at Inho as he stepped back.

“In fact, we should take him right now!” Another woman suggested, and they all cheered in unison.

“What’s going on?” Your voice silenced the crowd as they glanced in your direction, slowly parting to make space for you to approach Gongyoo, who relaxed at your presence.

“One of the players was caught in this room! What is the meaning of this?!” Someone called out.

Ignoring the angry VIP, you approached Inho. While his mask hid his facial expression, when you glanced at his hands, the uncontrollable trembling gave him away immediately. “Did you really sneak her in?” You asked calmly.

Noticing you staring at his hands, he put them together to attempt to stop the shaking. Taking a shaky breath, he nodded hesitantly.

A woman, the same one who wanted to capture Inho, stepped forward. “We can forgive this, but under one condition,” she spoke, and many hushed whispers fell onto the hallway. “You either give us the girl, or you strip the Frontman of his position and hand him over.”

Inho immediately stepped forward, but you blocked his way. “You are not going with them,” you declared through gritted teeth.

Before he could protest, your dad, wearing his VIP mask, tapped you on the shoulder, with two guards standing behind him. “What’s going on?” You recounted the story, telling him how Inho snuck in a player, which landed him in this precarious situation.

After hearing about the trade offer, your dad hummed, thinking out loud. “Take the girl. The Frontman is crucial to these games, and we can’t afford to lose him. Everyone is human, and we aren’t born with discipline and knowledge,” he bowed to the VIPs, “I promise this will never happen again.”

Gongyoo stepped aside the moment your dad made his call, and the guards captured the girl and took her away, the VIPs hungrily following her. You didn’t even have to think to know exactly what they were going to do to her. Inho, as an attractive man, was targeted, so what else could happen to a young, attractive foreigner?

“Go back to our room,” you said quietly to Inho as your dad gathered a few guards to follow you down to announce the news to Player 034.

You almost wished you made your dad go instead, because the maze of pastel stairs seemed endless. Admittedly, you’d never gone down to the arena before, so you had no idea where to go. This led to one guard to leading you in the front while the others tailed you.

Player 034 was in a white room, his bed a lot bigger than the tiny bunk bed he was forced to sleep on just two days prior. His tracksuit had been replaced with dress pants and a white blouse. A worker guard monitored him as he dug into his morning steak.

“How are you feeling, Player 034?” You smiled at him as he stared at the guns your guards carried.

“A-Are you here to kill me?” He stuttered.

“No, of course not,” you reassured him. “You have won the game.” A pile of money dropped into the piggy bank, despite the automated voice not yet announcing 421’s elimination. Perhaps she would be gone in a few hours.

“I thought there would be another game?” He questioned, appearing more relaxed.

“There was an internal dispute,” you explained briefly. “You can leave after you finish your meal.”

-

You found Inho sobbing into his hands when you returned, nonchalantly setting your mask on a table as you continued eating your tiramisu. Your eyes remained on him, observing his entire body trembling as tears dribbled down the cracks of his interdigit and down the back of his hands. It was as if you were watching him cling to his wife's gravestone all over again.

As if it couldn't get worse, you swore you saw the silhouette of a woman embracing him, the ends of her hair brushing against his face as she clung to his neck. Her lips opened, mouthing something unintelligible, yet you could nearly hear the sound of her shushing his tears away when all of a sudden, she made eye contact with you. Her gaze was incomprehensible, something of a mix of disdain, disappointment, and sorrow. You didn't have access to a mirror, but you assumed your expression was similar.

Fuck, was Lacy haunting you or was it a mere hallucination?

Sighing, you left your tiramisu and grabbed a tissue, ripping Inho’s hands off his face and wiping his face with it. “It was my fault,” he confessed to you in between sniffles and sobs. “If it wasn’t for me, she would’ve survived.”

Her expression soured, frowning from how roughly you treated Inho, but as she was dead, she had no right to control your behaviour. She no longer had any physical attachment to Inho, and even if Inho still yearned for her every night in his dreams, he was yours in all other aspects. You were the keeper of his mind and body, as if telling her to suck your metaphorical dick.

You scoffed at his words, your eyes remaining on hers, as if challenging her. “You know her survival wasn’t guaranteed. She would’ve died even without your intervention,” you half-lied. Of course, she could’ve survived the Chess game, but she also could’ve very well lost.

“Why didn’t you let me go with the VIPs?” He asked after his sobs quieted down into sniffles.

You didn’t know either. Inho wasn't the only attractive middle-aged man in Korea. Either way, you had no reason to save that woman. With Inho, at least he could clumsily take the mantle of the Frontman. Tossing the tissue into the trash can, you returned to your tiramisu and opened your phone, your acrylics tapping against the screen as you texted your friends.

“Answer me!” Inho yelled at you after your silence, and you sighed as you turned to him.

Rolling your eyes at his tone, you replied to him, “I don’t know.” It was an unsatisfactory answer, judging by the way he glared at you. You simply diverted your attention to Gongyoo’s text messages, tuning out the piercing glare of Lacy.

-

Gongyoo: Crisis averted!

Gongyoo: How long do you think she’ll last?

You: Not long.

You: Do you even know how many male VIPs we have?

You: She’ll be dead by tomorrow.

Gongyoo: True.

Gongyoo: Inho should’ve just minded his own business.

You: He thinks it’s his fault she’s going to die.

Gongyoo: How ridiculous.

Gongyoo: She could’ve died even without his intervention.

Gongyoo: She would’ve died a lot more peacefully though.

You: That’s what I told him.

Gongyoo: Anyways, don’t you think my idea worked out really well?

You: Yes, it did.

You: I don’t think the VIPs were that bothered once we handed her over.

Gongyoo: Right?

Gongyoo: Don’t you think I should get a reward?

You: Oh?

You: What kind?

Gongyoo: It’s kind of embarrassing.

Gongyoo: You can cut my salary if it makes you mad.

You: Just tell me.

Gongyoo: I want to sleep with you.

You: Come to my room at 8pm.

Gongyoo: Thank you.

Gongyoo: I didn’t think you’d agree. (Read)

-

At 8pm sharp, Gongyoo knocked on your door, snatching you by your waist and passionately kissing you before he even closed the door. You gasped as he bit your bottom lip, his hand wandering down to squeeze your ass. The kisses smeared your lip gloss all over his face, but he didn’t seem to mind, cupping your face with another hand to bring you impossibly closer. In the midst of your make out session, you somehow managed to slam the door shut behind you, pinning Gongyoo to the wall.

Inho had left to do some work, a bold move after the scare from this morning. Even when he was around, all he did was glare at you even after you handed him an ice pack to calm his swollen eyes. For the last few weeks, you couldn’t play with him due to the state of his wrists, so Gongyoo’s invitation felt like a sign from god.

Gongyoo lifted you up, carrying you to the bed as you ran your hand through his hair while the other clumsily unbuttoned his blouse. Before he could unzip your dress, the sound of the doorknob twisting broke your focus, and Inho entered the room.

“What the hell is going on?” Inho asked, taking off his mask to reveal a hardened expression.

Pushing Gongyoo off you and wiping the lip gloss off the corners of your mouth, you approached him. “We’re just relieving some stress.”

“Why do it in this room? Couldn’t you do it in his room?” He hissed quietly, pointing at Gongyoo, whose lips were shiny from your lip gloss.

“To give you the choice of joining,” and before Inho could roll his eyes, you leaned in to whisper in his ear. “I’ll allow you to dominate me, if that’s what you want.”

Truthfully, you’ve wanted to let Inho dominate you for a while now, but you weren’t sure how to go about it. His first year as the Frontman was a bust, and it cemented the fact that you couldn’t fully trust him into your mind. Despite your power imbalance, you always reminded yourself of your different physical statures. Inho could easily kill a petite woman like you with his eyes closed, and you needed to be aware of that. You hoped that with Gongyoo’s presence, it would prevent Inho from acting out.

You walked away, fully expecting Inho to throw some kind of fit or silently walk out the door, but as you turned your back on him to approach Gongyoo, he lunged towards you, his lips latching onto your neck as he sucked hard. His hands moved down to your breasts, squeezing them as Gongyoo’s eyes widened at the sudden company.

Laughing, Gongyoo shut the door, and his lips were on yours again. It was almost too much, from Inho’s harsh grip on your breasts, his sloppy kisses on your neck, to Gongyoo’s dominating tongue intertwining with yours, his hands on your ass. Inho was the one who unzipped your dress, and the two men worked together to shove it off your body and onto the floor.

Gongyoo took his lips off yours and moved from your chin to your neck to your breasts, pinching and twisting a nipple in one hand while licking, sucking and kissing the other. Your legs shook from the stimulation as Inho slid your panties off your legs, shoving his face into your ass and without any warning, sticking his tongue into your pussy. If it wasn’t for Gongyoo, you would’ve collapsed then and there as Inho supported you by your hip to keep you standing, the waves of pleasure so overstimulating that all you could do was gasp for air. You came as Inho pinched your clit, your hands flying to Inho’s hair to tug his head closer, shuddering as the combination of Gongyoo’s nipple stimulation and Inho lapping up your juices nearly sent you over the edge a second time.

When Gongyoo stood up straight, you nearly toppled over before he pulled you into his chest. While your eyes were shut and you struggled to catch your breath, Gongyoo smirked at Inho as he carried you to the bed. After a few moments of fabric rustling, you opened your eyes to see the two men naked and staring down at you expectantly.

“Whoever goes first, use a condom,” you groaned.

“Why? Don’t you have an IUD?” Inho retorted.

“Just because I can’t get pregnant doesn’t mean I want to taste myself and your cum on your cock.”

Inho and Gongyoo played a round of rock, paper, scissors, which Inho won by beating Gongyoo with scissors. Inho opened the drawer closest to the bed, shuffling the items around to search for a condom. Just when you thought he was going to give up, he tore one open with his hands and wrapped it around his cock. You opened your mouth for Gongyoo, allowing him to fill you with his cock, effectively muffling any sounds you would make. You prayed he wouldn’t randomly start facefucking you, because you didn’t want to have to crush his balls on the spot.

In your current position, it was difficult for you to fully take in Gongyoo, so you compromised by stroking the remaining part of his cock with your hand while you bobbed your head up and down. He threw his head back and moaned, almost thrusting on instinct but was stopped when you squeezed his cock. You took your mouth off, “If you try to facefuck me, I’m going to castrate you,” you warned.

Now that Inho was face to face with you, he lost his previous confidence, timidly leaning down to eat you out again before Gongyoo stopped him by grabbing his shoulder. “You’re already going first, don’t hog her.”

With that, Inho took a deep breath and inserted his cock painfully slowly, causing you to gasp onto Gongyoo’s cock as Inho stretched you out inch by inch. Gongyoo shuddered from the vibrations of your gasp, his hips squirming as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to listen to your orders.

Even as Inho began thrusting, he remained annoyingly gentle, treating you as if you were made of porcelain. After a minute or two, you ground your hips into his, silently demanding for him to quicken his pace without having to deprive Gongyoo of your mouth. While Inho sped up, his movements were still soft, his hand moving to stimulate your clit as opposed to slamming his cock into your g-spot. Even so, he built you up to your second orgasm, causing you to struggle hollowing out your cheeks to suck off Gongyoo. Inho came as your orgasm wrung out his cock, and his last thrust forced the rest of Gongyoo’s cock down your throat, causing him to groan as he released.

As soon as Gongyoo stopped cumming, you took your mouth off him and coughed, painfully swallowing the remainder of his cum as your throat burned from the stretch of his dick. Inho removed his condom and tied it up, throwing it into the garbage bin before lifting you by your head to kiss you, using his other hand to pinch your nipple as he switched positions with Gongyoo.

In the midst of the kiss, Gongyoo’s hands gripped you by your waist as he slammed his cock into you. You broke your kiss with Inho with a long moan, your back arching as Gongyoo immediately found your g-spot and hammered into it. You stuffed Inho’s cock into your mouth to muffle your moans, slightly embarrassed at how much you enjoyed Gongyoo’s rough movements.

Gongyoo made you cum faster than you could count to twenty, your pussy clenching around his cock. You had to take Inho out of your mouth to stop yourself from biting his cock off. As soon as you came down from your orgasm, Gongyoo continued his previous pace, and you could only clumsily stroke Inho’s cock as he played with your hair. Forcing an orgasm out of you for a fourth time, Gongyoo released inside you with a loud groan, his hands leaving bruised imprints on your hips and waist.

When he finally caught his breath, he slid his cock out and you kissed Inho’s neglected tip, swiping your tongue to lick up his precum. “Go shower, I’ll take care of her,” you heard Inho say to Gongyoo as you stroked him, waiting for Gongyoo to be out of sight before you opened your mouth as wide as you could, hollowing out your cheeks and sucking long and hard.

You were functioning on pure adrenaline at this point, your body moving on instinct to force an orgasm out of Inho as fast as you could. Inho bit his lip to keep his voice down, although little moans and gasps still occasionally slipped through as you stroked his cock, focusing all your attention on his tip in the form of licking and sucking before enveloping his entire dick back into your mouth. With one final swipe on the slit of his dick, he came unexpectedly on your face, your eyes fluttering shut to prevent his cum from landing in your eye.

You wiped some of his cum off with your hand, staring at the white sticky mess in your palm. “Shit, sorry,” he muttered as he reached for a tissue, taking care of the remainder of his cum while also wiping the sheen of sweat on your forehead.

Gongyoo left shortly after his shower, waving you goodbye as he draped a robe around his body, water droplets falling from his bangs.

Inho guided you into the shower, your legs still wobbly from your orgasms and drowsiness starting to take over your senses. You managed to pull yourself together just enough to lather soap onto your body and rinse yourself off. Inho helped clean out Gongyoo’s cum, his fingers digging around inside your pussy as he muffled your moans with a kiss. Still sensitive from your previous orgasms, you gasped and shuddered, cumming on his fingers.

As you dried yourself off with a towel, you sleepily studied Inho as he began drawing a warm bath, momentarily leaving the room to bark out some unintelligible order into his walkie, returning to turn off the water and lower you in. “You should join me,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes to try and force yourself awake.

Shuffling a little, you made enough room for Inho to step inside and sit down, stretching his legs and sighing into the warm water as he slid down. On your bath tray, lived a Diptyque candle and a lighter, and Inho seemingly read your mind and lit the candle before you could cause some kind of fire hazard in your half-awake state.

Relaxing into his chest and nuzzling into the crook of his neck, you allowed yourself to close your eyes and fall asleep.

[kelperings]

in light of squid game slowly being added to my list of interests again, i couldnt NOT make it komahina. PLEASE ignore my spelling of cristóbal i was tired. this isnt like something i plan to make an au out of with like lore or anything but feel free to ask questions and ill probably say what i think idk.

no i dont know how komaeda accumulated debt dont ask me that i have no answer

s2 was fire guys go watch it

[gummyyummyjam]

I'm home alone (you're God-knows-where)

In the shadow of Harry Potter’s endless departures and promises, Draco Malfoy learns the cost of loving someone who may never learn to stay.

The Slytherin common room was eerily quiet tonight. The greenish glow from the lake’s waters reflected through the windows, casting an otherworldly light on the plush furniture. It was a silence Draco Malfoy had grown accustomed to, though not one he particularly liked. His fingers toyed with the edges of a well-worn book on his lap, though he hadn’t turned a page in over twenty minutes. His thoughts were elsewhere, circling back to a certain messy-haired Gryffindor who had, once again, disappeared without explanation.

Harry bloody Potter.

Draco’s lips twitched into a wry smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He’d never imagined himself in this position: pining for the Golden Boy, waiting for scraps of his attention like some lovesick fool. It was ironic, really. He’d spent years hating Potter, envying him, and now… well, now he’d give anything for Harry to stay.

But Harry never stayed. Not really.

“The games you played were never fun,” Draco muttered to himself, voice low and bitter. The memory of Harry’s last departure lingered in his mind. The half-hearted promises, the fleeting kiss goodbye, and then… nothing. Days would pass, sometimes weeks, before Harry resurfaced, acting as though everything was fine, as though Draco wasn’t left behind to pick up the pieces.

Draco’s knuckles tightened around the book. He was tired of it. Tired of giving Harry what he wanted, of trying to be what Harry said he needed, only to be left torn apart when the Gryffindor inevitably walked away. It wasn’t fair, was it? No, Draco thought bitterly, it wasn’t fair at all.

The first time they’d kissed had been in the aftermath of a duel. A heated exchange of spells in an abandoned classroom had spiraled into something else entirely. The room had smelled of burnt parchment and dust, the air still crackling with residual magic. Draco could still remember the way Harry had looked at him—eyes blazing, cheeks flushed, and then, suddenly, lips pressed against his in a kiss that was more fire than finesse. It had been exhilarating, intoxicating, and utterly confusing.

Draco had pushed Harry away at first, his heart hammering in his chest. “What the hell was that?” he’d demanded, though the answer was clear in Harry’s eyes. Those damn green eyes… they always seemed to hold the truth Draco wasn’t ready to face.

Harry had shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “Does it matter?”

And at the time, it hadn’t. The heat of the moment, the thrill of breaking every unspoken rule… it had been enough. But now, months later, it mattered more than Draco cared to admit. He’d fallen into something he couldn’t control, and the weight of it was starting to crush him.

Draco sighed and set the book aside, leaning back against the couch. His gaze drifted to the window, where he could just make out the faint outline of the squid gliding past. The room felt too big, too empty. “I don’t want any settled scores,” he whispered to the empty room. “I just want you to set me free.”

But Harry never did. He kept coming back, weaving himself into Draco’s life with a charm that was impossible to resist. And every time, Draco let him. He let Harry in, knowing full well that he’d leave again. Knowing that every return carried a ticking clock, counting down to the moment Harry would slip away once more.

It wasn’t that Draco was afraid of being alone. He’d faced more than his fair share of solitude over the years. It had been his constant companion in the shadowed corners of Malfoy Manor, during sleepless nights spent dreading his father’s wrath, and in the quiet moments when the weight of the war threatened to break him. But with Harry, it was different. With Harry, he’d tasted something he hadn’t realized he craved: a connection, a bond that felt real, even if it was fleeting.

“What makes you so sure you’re all I need?” Draco asked the empty room, his voice cracking slightly. He hated how vulnerable he felt, hated the way Harry’s absence left him feeling hollow and restless. It was like trying to breathe with half his lungs missing.

Draco's breath hitched as he stared into the flickering flames of the Slytherin common room’s hearth, his hands trembling ever so slightly. The quiet crackle of the fire was the only sound, but in his mind, Harry’s voice was loud, echoing with words that should have been comforting but had cut him instead.

“You knew what this was,” Harry had said. His tone had been even, almost apologetic, but not enough to disguise the indifference beneath. “Don’t make it more than it is, Draco.”

The words replayed in a loop, each iteration stabbing deeper into the fragile walls Draco had tried to build around his heart. He’d given everything to Harry, more than he thought he was capable of. And yet, it was never enough.

When Harry finally returned, it was well past midnight. Draco heard the telltale creak of the common room door and the soft shuffle of footsteps. The sound was almost tentative, as though Harry knew he wasn’t welcome, he was sneaking inside the supposed-to-be-enemy’s territory for Merlin’s sake, but hoped he might be forgiven anyway. Draco didn’t bother to turn around. Let Harry come to him for once.

“Good. You’re still awake,” Harry said softly, his voice laced with guilt.

Draco let out a humorless laugh. “What gave it away? The fact that I’m sitting here, wide-eyed, in the middle of the night? Yeah, it’s good too that no one hexed me yet, I could still brood and all.”

Harry winced and moved closer, perching on the armrest of the couch. He looked tired, his hair messier than usual, and there was a smudge of dirt on his cheek. Wherever he’d been, it hadn’t been easy. But Draco didn’t care. Not tonight.

“I’m sorry,” Harry murmured, reaching out to touch Draco’s shoulder. But Draco shrugged him off, his body stiff with tension.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Potter,” Draco snapped. His silver eyes burned with anger and something deeper, something more painful. “You can’t just… disappear and expect me to wait around like some loyal lapdog. I’m tired of it. I’m tired of you.”

Harry’s face fell, and for a moment, Draco thought he’d finally gotten through to him. But then Harry’s expression hardened. “You don’t mean that,” he said quietly.

“Don’t I?” Draco challenged, standing up and glaring at Harry. His hands trembled at his sides, but he clenched them into fists, willing himself to stay strong. “You’re teaching me to live without you, Potter. And guess what? I’m getting good at it.”

The words hung in the air like a curse, heavy and unforgiving. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Harry stood, his jaw clenched. “If that’s how you feel, maybe I should go.”

Draco’s heart clenched, but he refused to let it show. “Maybe you should.”

Harry left, slamming the door behind him, and Draco sank back onto the couch. He’d gotten what he wanted, hadn’t he? He was free. Free from the endless cycle of hope and disappointment. Free from Harry’s games.

So why did it feel like he’d just lost the only thing that had ever truly mattered?

The minutes stretched into hours, the silence growing heavier with each passing moment. Draco stared at the window, his reflection blurry in the glass. “I’m not afraid anymore,” he whispered, though the words felt hollow. “I’m not afraid.”

But as the night dragged on, and the first rays of dawn began to filter through the windows, Draco realized something he’d been avoiding for months.

He wasn’t afraid of being alone.

He was afraid of a life without Harry.

The days following Harry’s departure blurred together in a haze of monotony. Draco carried on, as one does, slipping into the carefully curated routines that masked his unraveling. Breakfast in the Great Hall, potions with Slughorn, study sessions in the library—each task performed with meticulous precision, each interaction scripted to perfection.

But the truth was glaring beneath the surface.

He was hollow.

The Slytherin common room, once a sanctuary of cold comfort, now felt suffocating. The greenish light of the lake had lost its hypnotic quality, replaced by a dull reminder of isolation. Even his dormitory, always a reprieve from the world, felt heavy with Harry’s absence. The spaces between Draco’s breaths were no longer filled with Harry’s reckless laughter, the way his presence seemed to electrify even the most mundane moments.

Draco had told himself he was teaching his heart to forget. But forgetting was harder than he’d anticipated.

A flashback, an unbidden memory, tugged at the corners of Draco's mind like a relentless tide. It was from the beginning, a long way before Harry had first kissed him, and their meetings—because of their so-called truce or friendship or whatever Harry was indicating— were still wrapped in the thrill of secrecy.  

It had been a rainy afternoon in the library, the sound of raindrops against the ancient windows a soothing backdrop. Harry had appeared out of nowhere, his tie loose, his hair damp, and that maddening smirk on his face.

“Can’t stay away, can you?” Harry had teased, leaning over Draco’s shoulder as if they were the closest of friends.

Draco had scowled, though the heat in his cheeks betrayed him. “Don’t flatter yourself, Potter. Some of us actually are here to study.”

But Harry had laughed, that low, infectious chuckle that made Draco’s stomach twist in ways he refused to acknowledge. He’d sat down across from Draco, close enough that their knees brushed under the table. It had been infuriating and intoxicating all at once. And so, he’d ignored Harry after that, burying himself in his work. But Harry’s presence was impossible to ignore. He lingered, leaning against the bookshelf, tossing casual remarks that disrupted Draco’s concentration.

“You’re so bloody predictable,” Harry had remarked again, his green eyes dancing. “Always pretending you’re above it all.”

Draco’s cheeks had burned, and his pride stung. He snapped his book shut, glaring, his voice rising despite the glares from Madam Pince. “And you’re insufferable. Why don’t you go bother someone else?”

Harry’s smile had faded, replaced by something unreadable. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Because I don’t want someone else.”

The air had shifted, charged, and heavy. Draco had frozen, his quill poised mid-air. He’d wanted to retort, to cut Harry down with words, but his throat had tightened. By the time he’d found his voice, Harry had suddenly walked away, leaving Draco with a swirl of confusion and an ache he couldn’t name. And for that moment, Draco had allowed himself to believe and believe, that maybe, just maybe, Harry meant it. 

One night, three days after Harry had walked out, Draco found himself back in the Astronomy Tower. He hadn’t intended to come here, but his feet had carried him almost of their own accord. The cool night air bit at his skin, and the stars above seemed distant and indifferent, much like Draco himself often pretended to be.

And then another memory rose up, it wasn’t nearly as soft. It came with the sharp sting of betrayal. It had been during one of those clandestine meetings in the Astronomy Tower, where they’d carved out a fragile world of their own . 

Harry had arrived late, his hair damp from the rain, his robes askew. Draco had paced the length of the tower, his frustration boiling over as soon as Harry entered.

“Do you think I have nothing better to do than wait for you?” Draco had hissed, his voice sharp enough to cut.

Harry had run a hand through his hair, looking both guilty and defensive. “I’m sorry, okay? Things got… complicated.”

“They’re always complicated with you,” Draco shot back, his silver eyes blazing. “You say you want this—us—but then you disappear for days, weeks. Do you even care?”

Harry’s face had darkened, his jaw tightening. “Of course, I care! But it’s not that simple, Draco. It’s not always easy to get away. You know that! You don’t understand—”

“Do I? No, I don’t understand!” Draco had interrupted, his voice cracking. “Because you won’t let me. You keep me at arm’s length like I’m some dirty little secret you’re ashamed of. And yet, all I know is that I’m always here, waiting, while you—” He’d paused, swallowing the lump in his throat. “While you treat me like an afterthought! Is that all I am to you?”

Harry had stepped closer, his expression softening. “That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair is giving you everything,” Draco had whispered, his voice trembling, “and getting nothing in return.”

Harry’s silence had been damning. He’d reached out, his hand hovering near Draco’s shoulder, but Draco had stepped back, his heart splintering.

“Don’t,” Draco had whispered, his voice trembling. “Don’t touch me if you don’t mean it.”

Harry had dropped his hand, his expression a mixture of regret and frustration. 

“I never asked you to…” Harry had muttered, his voice barely audible.

The words had hit Draco harder than any curse. He’d turned away, unwilling to let Harry see the tears that threatened to spill. And then, he felt Harry turned away too, and left without another word, leaving Draco alone in the cold, the wind biting at his skin.

Draco closed his eyes, the memory cutting sharper than any blade. He’d hated how Harry had made him feel so out of control, yet he’d craved it too. That wild, unpredictable spark that Harry carried—it had been intoxicating.

Now, it was a phantom pain.

Over and over, he tried to pinpoint the exact moment everything had unraveled. It wasn’t that Draco wanted Harry to suffer; that wasn’t it at all. What he wanted—what he had always wanted—was for Harry to understand. To see the cracks beneath the surface, the scars Draco carried from years of trying and failing to be enough. Enough for his family, enough for his housemates, and now, enough for Harry. But how could he make Harry see when he himself didn’t have the words?

But not all their moments were filled with pain. There were flashes of happiness, fleeting but bright enough to sear into Draco’s memory, as whatever the thing between them kept happening.

One winter evening, they’d found themselves in the Room of Requirement, where the fire crackled warmly, and the snow fell softly outside the enchanted windows as if the fiendfyre and its aftermath didn’t happen at all. They’d been arguing—as they always did—but it had dissolved into laughter when Harry had tripped over a pile of cushions and landed in an undignified heap.

Draco had smirked, leaning against the armrest of the couch. “Graceful as ever, Potter.”

Harry had thrown a cushion at him, his laughter infectious. “Shut up, Malfoy.”

Before Draco could respond, Harry had tackled him, pinning him to the couch. Their faces had been inches apart, their breaths mingling in the warm air.

“You’re insufferable,” Draco had muttered, though his voice lacked venom.

Harry had grinned, his eyes alight with mischief. “I already know that. What else?”

Draco had rolled his eyes, but he hadn’t pushed Harry away and instead pulled him closer. They stared deeply into each other’s eyes, their lips almost touching but not, and the tension between them had been soft and slow and filled with unspoken promises.

And another memory escaped, shifting the moments into something vile.

“Why do you always have to push me away?” Harry had asked, his voice raw.

Draco had laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

Harry had looked at him then, really looked at him, and for a moment, Draco had thought he saw something real, something vulnerable in those emerald eyes. Harry had stepped closer, his hands framing Draco’s face.

“I’m trying,” Harry had whispered, his forehead resting against Draco’s. “I just… I don’t know how to do this.”

Draco had wanted to believe him. Merlin, he’d wanted to. And for a little while, he guessed he had.

As he sat alone in that tower, Draco closed his eyes against the sting of the memories, but they came anyway, brighter and more vivid than the firelight in his mind like a cruel montage. The good, the bad, the in-between—all of it a reminder of what he’d lost and what he still yearned for. Harry had been a storm in his life, unpredictable and consuming. And he’d loved Harry with a desperation that scared him, a love that he’d worn like armor even as it left him vulnerable. He’d have caught a grenade for Harry and jumped in front of the Killing Curse if it meant saving him. But Harry…

Harry had never been willing to do the same.

And now, in his absence, Draco was left with the quiet aftermath, wondering if he’d ever feel whole again.

One evening, as the common room grew colder with the approaching winter, Draco sat with his knees drawn up to his chest, staring into the fireplace. The flames flickered weakly, casting long shadows across the room. The embers reminded him of Harry—of the fire in his eyes, the warmth he carried even in his most infuriating moments.

“Why do you do this to yourself?” Pansy’s voice broke through the quiet, startling him. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed, her expression soft but tinged with frustration. She had always been perceptive, too much so for Draco’s comfort.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Draco said, though his voice lacked conviction.

Pansy sighed and sat down beside him, her presence steady and grounding. “You’re miserable, Draco. And we both know why.”

Draco didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The weight of her words settled over him, heavy and unyielding.

“He’s not worth this,” Pansy said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’re tearing yourself apart for someone who doesn’t even see it.”

Draco flinched at her words, though he knew she wasn’t trying to hurt him. “It’s not that simple,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “He does see it. I think… I think that’s the problem.”

Pansy frowned, her brow furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Draco stared into the fire, searching for the right words. “Harry… he’s afraid of what this means. What we mean. Every time he gets close, he panics. He pulls away, and I—” He broke off, his throat tightening. “I let him.”

“Why?” Pansy’s voice was sharp now, demanding an answer.

“Because,” Draco said, his voice trembling, “I’d rather have pieces of him than nothing at all.”

The admission hung in the air, raw and unguarded. Pansy’s expression softened, and she squeezed his shoulder. “Draco, you deserve more than that. You deserve someone who stays.”

Draco didn’t respond. Deep down, he knew she was right. But knowing and believing were two entirely different things. He felt the weight of it all pressing down on him. He’d given Harry his heart, his soul, every piece of himself he could offer. But Harry had only ever taken, leaving Draco to pick up the shattered remains.

“I would have died for you,” Draco whispered into the empty room, his voice breaking. “But you wouldn’t even stay for me.”

The fire crackled on, indifferent to his pain, as Draco’s tears finally fell, silent and unrelenting.

The seventh day brought a letter.

It was tucked beneath Draco’s Charms textbook, folded haphazardly, as though whoever had delivered it hadn’t cared whether it reached him at all. Draco stared at the unfamiliar parchment for a long time, his pulse hammering in his ears. He didn’t need to see the messy handwriting to know it was from Harry.

His fingers trembled as he unfolded it.

Draco,

I don’t know how to start this. I never do. Words have never been my strong suit, not when it comes to this… to us. But I’ll try because you deserve that much.

Draco’s breath hitched.

I’ve always been rubbish at staying. I think you know that better than anyone. It’s not that I don’t care—it’s that I care too much. And sometimes that scares me. Being with you… it makes me feel things I don’t know how to handle. Like I’m standing on the edge of something I can’t see, and one wrong move will send me over.

Draco’s vision blurred, and he blinked furiously.

But walking away doesn’t make it easier. It doesn’t stop me from missing you, from wanting you. I thought if I left, I’d be doing us both a favor. That maybe you’d be better off without me. But now… I’m not so sure.

I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you. For making you feel like you’re not enough when the truth is, you’re more than I ever deserved.

I want to fix this. If you’ll let me.

-Harry

Draco sat there for what felt like hours, the letter clutched tightly in his hands. He read it over and over, dissecting every word, every pause, every sentiment. It was messy and flawed and painfully honest—just like Harry.

He wanted to scream, to cry, to storm into Gryffindor Tower and hex Harry for being so infuriating. But more than that, he wanted to believe again .

Believe that Harry meant it. Again .

That this time would be different. Again .

The knock on the Slytherin common room door came late that night. Draco knew it was Harry before he even opened it. He could feel his presence, like a storm brewing just beyond the threshold.

When Draco finally pulled the door open, Harry stood there, looking as disheveled as ever. His eyes were shadowed with exhaustion, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He looked like a man ready to beg for redemption.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Draco said quietly, his voice devoid of the sharp edges it usually carried.

Harry shrugged, his gaze flicking to the floor. “I had to try... and... I never really wanted to...  leave... you..."

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then, finally, Draco stepped aside, allowing Harry to enter.

They sat by the fire, the warmth casting flickering shadows across their faces. Draco didn’t say a word as Harry poured out his heart—his fears, his regrets, his desperate hope for another chance.

“I know I’ve hurt you,” Harry admitted, his voice hoarse. But in Draco’s mind, You hurt me constantly, in every subtle and deliberate way imaginable.

“And I can’t promise I won’t mess up again. But I want to try, Draco. I want to be better—for you, for us.”

Draco studied him, his silver eyes unreadable. He wanted to believe Harry, all over again. But trust wasn’t something that could be rebuilt overnight.

“You’ve left me so many times,” Draco said, his voice barely above a whisper. “How do I know you won’t do it again?”

Harry’s gaze was steady, unwavering. “You don’t. All I can do is prove to you that I’m not going anywhere this time.”

“Why do you always leave, Harry?” Draco’s voice cracked, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

Harry hesitated, running a hand through his messy hair. “Because I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared of what this means. Of what we could be.”

Draco’s chest tightened a mixture of anger and hope warring within him because he was right about Harry’s thoughts in the first place. “Do you think you’re the only one who’s scared?” he demanded. “Do you think I don’t feel the same way? But I’m here, Harry. I’m here, and you… you keep running.”

Harry moved closer, his expression filled with regret. “I know,” he said softly. “And I hate myself for it. But I can’t lose you, Draco. I can’t.”

Draco laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “You already have, Harry. Every time you walk away, you lose me a little more.”

For a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of unspoken truths pressing down on them. Then Harry did something Draco hadn’t expected. He dropped to his knees in front of him, his hands trembling as he reached for Draco’s.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Harry said, his voice firm despite the tears glistening in his eyes. “Not this time. I swear.”

Draco stared at him, searching his face for any sign of deception. But all he saw was sincerity, raw and unfiltered. Draco’s heart ached with the weight of it all. The love, the pain, the hope that had been buried beneath the rubble of their broken relationship. Even if it kills him—whether from the pain Harry causes or simply because he’s Harry Potter—Draco will always forgive and choose him, over and over again. Slowly, tentatively, he reaches out, his hand brushing against Harry’s.

“You’d better not,” Draco said quietly, his voice steady but his heart racing. “Because if you do, Harry, I won’t be here when you come back.” If you do it again, Harry, well fuck that because I will still be here, waiting… 

Harry nodded, his grip on Draco’s hands tightening. “I won’t leave. Not again.”

“Don’t make me regret this,” Draco said softly. Don’t make me choose you only to be hurt again in the end.

Harry’s fingers shifted, capturing Draco’s jaw with a trembling certainty, tilting his face upward until their eyes locked, the depth of emotion—a spark of something fragile and hopeful igniting between them.

“I won’t,” Harry promised.

Draco allowed himself to believe him, all over again . 

okayy, so this was a one-shot i posted in Ao3. I just wanna share it LOL. btw, FLASHBACKS are in Italics! and yep, this is somehow based on Billie Eilish's song BORED x Bruno Mars' GRENADE! honestly, idk what timeline in the book suit this plot, and so i thought maybe a post-war hogwarts timeline. but then, you could just imagine any timeline, which is which, cause honestly this is just a bit of draco's perspective when it comes to harry & their push and pull dynamics, and not about what's happening around them, whether they're in the same room or not.

[hugemilkshake]

Hey! Here’s the start of my Cookie run school AU

Me and a friend were playing Tower of Adventures and I thought of this

If you have any questions about the au then feel free to ask (I’m also still working on stuff)

Cookie Run- School AU (all games)

STAFF

Principle- First Cream

Vice Principal- Mystic Flour

Math- Tea Knight, Elder Faerie and Dark Enchantress

English- Black Sugar Sawn, Lotus, Eternal Sugar and Stormbringer

Science- Dr wasabi (chem) Sea Fairy (marine bio) White Lily (Genetics) Dr Bones (anontoy/ bio)

History- Dark Cacao and Golden Cheese

PE- Hollyberry and Tarte Tatin (health sci) Pitaya (reg) Burning Spice (dance)

Theater- Shadow milk

Tech- Xylitol Nova

Baking- First Grain

Film- Butter Squid

Gardening- Millennial tree

Aerodynamics- Pilot Cookie

Criminal justice- Almond Cookie

Art- Time Keeper (draw and paint) lychee (Ceramics)

Music- Ananas (band and choir) Frost Queen (orchestra) Silent Salt (guitar)

phycology - Dreamweaver

Religion- Longan???

Counselors- Pure Vanilla and Oyster

Assistant teachers- Wind archer, Fire Spirit and Crimson coral, Latte

Middle/Elementary teachers- Sugar sawn, Red Panna Cotta, Ginseng, Butterbear

CLUBS + Members

Fencing- Raspberry Mousse (leader) Raspberry (vice) Cream Soda, Ninja, White Choco, Pistachio, Leek, Cherry Cola

[burningembers91]

The Debt Collector - Choi Woo-Seok x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Choi Woo-Seok spends his days collecting money from people who can’t afford to pay. But when he meets you, he can’t help but bend the rules

A/N: the love I have for not only this character, but for the actor plays him in unbelievable. I love every character he plays and I adored his character in Squid Game. If you haven’t watched the Kdrama Kingdom, on Netflix I urge to immediately watch it. This man plays the most selfish, most cowardly, but most loveable person I have ever seen grace my screen.

Choi Woo-Seok had wanted to be a lot of things in his life. His parents had wanted him to be a doctor, but the sight of blood made him queasy. He’d thought about becoming a lawyer, but he was terrible at arguing. He’d trained as a chef for a short while, but that came to a swift end when he set the kitchen on fire just 2 weeks in. He loved photography, but there was no money in it, and if he was going to have a family of his own one day, he’d need a job that could support them. He wasn’t quite sure how he became a debt collector; he just sort of fell into it one day. What had started off as friendly conversation at a bar with a stranger had developed into a friendship, which developed into a job offer and before he knew it, Woo-Seok was knocking on the doors of those who owed his boss money. He wasn’t a violent man, he actively tried to avoid it at all costs. But, luckily for him his boss had plenty of hired muscle, so Woo-Seok could keep a happy distance from the beatings delivered to those who couldn’t pay.

It wasn’t the fanciest job in the world, but his boss was nice, the pay was good, and he didn’t haven’t to wear a stuffy suit to work. Being a debt collector didn’t give him much of a chance to meet women though. He had barely any free time, and when he did, he could never seem to land himself a date. Women tended to go for guys that didn’t look like him, that didn’t tell cheesey jokes, or trip over their own feet when walking. He longed to be a father and husband though, to be a provider for a family he hoped would cherish him as much as he cherished them.

When his boss gave him your name as the next person to visit, he hadn’t expected to be so taken aback by you. It was mostly men who owed money, but the few women who did were often just as violent and brash as their male counterparts, and Woo-Seok had been slapped more times that he’d like to admit by an angry woman who couldn’t afford to pay.

When he met you, you were so timid and shy. It was your husband who had borrowed money from his boss, who had gambled away every penny. When the money ran out, and he wasn’t able to borrow more he fled, leaving you to pick up the pieces. You didn’t deserve to pay for something you’d had no part in. You were already working 2 jobs, trying desperately to keep your head above water. You had no idea where your ex had fled to, and had no desire to find out. That man had been nothing but trouble from the moment you’d met him, but love made people blind, and you’d been no exception.

Woo-Seok pled your case for you. Begged his boss to write the debt off.

“You’re a softie,” his boss had sighed, but he chose to let the debt go. He had bigger fish to fry and he trusted Woo-Seok with his life. If he saw something in you, his boss wasn’t going to question it. “Don’t go trying to play the hero though,” he warned him. “It’ll only end in tears.”

But Woo-Seok couldn’t stay away. He’d only gone over to tell you the debt had been wiped clean, but when he found you scrambling to pick up the groceries that had fallen from your split carrier bag, he couldn’t help himself. He carried everything into your apartment for you, replaced the milk that had splattered all over the concrete, and bought you a coffee and a cake from his favourite cafe.

Woo-Seok made you laugh. You loved his cheesey jokes, his bashful smile, his selflessness. He was your knight in shining armour.

You made Woo-Seok smile so much his jaw ached. He was lighter on his feet, he whistled as he walked, he was so happy when he was with you it was like he was walking on a cloud.

He’d asked you out a few months after you met. There was a new open-air movie theatre coming to a park near your apartment. But you’d been left so broken by your ex, so fearful of letting someone in that you declined. You didn’t want to say no; you wanted to go on a date with the man who made your heart sing, but you couldn’t risk getting hurt. Not when you’d only begun to heal.

So the two of you stayed friends, Woo-Seok coming to check on you whenever he could. He didn’t know how to help you heal, didn’t know to take away the pain that was so evident in your eyes.

To Woo-Seok, you were perfect. And if he had to, he would spend every day for the rest of his life helping you to see what he did: a wonderful woman who he loved with every fibre of his being.

[fascinati0nstr33t]

Arcane SSB headcanons

(cus i’ve been replaying smash and the lack of arcane content is killing me-)

Jinx

mains the Inkling or Kirby

i always thought of Jinx as a splatoon player, she’d deffo enjoy the game as a whole (she probably also listens to the soundtrack)

uses the purple inkling girl cus there isn’t an inkling girl with blue hair pipipi

spams the splat bombs and the splattershot

also spams the booyah taunt

another character i think she’d main would be kirby

it’s the “cute but will beat your ass” character that she would pick

absorbs her opponents none stop

is far more insufferable with kirby than she is with the inkling

WILL rage quit if she’s defeated by a final smash

go-to stages are moray towers and gamer

Vi

started using little mac but stuck to incineroar after first use

spams the down smash where incineroar jumps in the air then body slams to the ground

says she won’t get competitive but does the complete opposite when she loses once

favourite stage is the boxing ring

gets cocky if she has the final smash

always teams up with jinx or cait if it’s a team battle

has beef with isabelle for a good reason or for no good reason

has definitely told cait that she looks like lucina from fire emblem

Caitlyn

started playing the game because of vi

varies from lucina and samus

will definitely be the cause of jinx’s rage

manages to get the most KO’s in team battle

WILL accuse jinx if she spams a side special too many times

does get competitive after a few matches

despises the wii fit trainer with every fiber of her being

go-to stage is the great plateau tower

plays classic mode every now and then

if she’s an excellent shot with her rifle, then she’s getting critical hits in the game

grabs every assist trophy that drops on the stage

Mel

has played smash rarely, but is always up for a challenge

elegant and cunning? she’s maining Bayonetta, specifically her third edit style

palutena’s temple is her favourite stage

is possibly the only calm one during a match

witch time and bullet climax are the combos she uses the most

“if you need to learn how to talk to a lady ask your mum” taunt is used at least 5 times during a match

“it was a fair game, dear” as she absolutely demolishes her opponent (probably Jayce or another councilor)

high chance that smash got her to play the actual bayonetta games-

Ekko

i headcanon him as the bigger gamer out of everyone

saw a fanart of him as twilight princess link AND IT LOOKED SO GOOD🔥

so, ye, he mains link

pirate ship and umbra clock tower are his go-to (cus, he’s the boy who shattered time-)

got splatrolled by jinx too many times

gets pissed if his final smash doesn’t hit anyone

spams the boomerang and bow

impersonates the “HYAH” depending on the combo

uses any taunt animation after defeating someone

has beef with wario and king k rool

Jayce

COCKIEST MF WHEN IT COMES TO SMASH

mains captain falcon

spams falcon punch to the point it’s annoying

just like vi, he gets competitive when he says he won’t

played world of light but made it halfway through

will team up with mel (because he loves her and he doesn’t want to get beat up by Bayo)

secretly enjoys the squid sisters songs if he’s playing moray towers

hates moving stages

made a bet with vi to see who would win a squad strike…he lost

buys everything in the shop

hates that blue gumball son of a b!tch

unironically quotes “show me ya moves” while viktor is absolutely fed up with his bs

Viktor

MY BOYYYY SJDBKDJSKXNKSHDKDKF

he mains fox, that’s it

has won three tourneys with little to no effort

bridge of eldin, final destination and halberd are his fav stages

hates ness, absolutely despises him, and definitely takes out his stress on him

possibly has said “PK FIRE my ass you little shit” at least once

he’s known to be pretty calm and calculated, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t gone absolutely livid in a match

if it’s a free for all, he’s targeting jayce, no second thoughts

has teamed up with jinx whenever vi would team up with cait (they would be a solid duo)

spirit board speedrunner

knows how to target the final smash

he’d probably build a miniature of fox’s ship after having mained him for some time