#i only have like 3 people to talk about this game with

[wcnderlnds]

opposites attract | choi su-bong (thanos)

・❥・ summary: he's chaotic and loud, you're shy and introverted but he can't help but be intrigued by you ・❥・word count: 1.3k ・❥・warnings: mentions of death bc squid game, nam-gyu is mean to reader (im sry), female reader. ・❥・ authors note: i love writing this chaotic man <3

Of course the second game just had to be one where you had to interact with people and find a team. Talking to people, approaching them – it was your worst nightmare. As you stood there in the sea of people all talking and teaming up, you timidly stayed in place, your hands pulled into the sleeves of your jacket giving yourself sweater paws. Since the first game, you had kept to yourself. You had even voted to leave. Why would anyone want to stay in a place like this where people were getting killed for losing children’s games? Unfortunately, the majority had decided to stay even after a heavily heated debate where player 456 had declared he’d been here before. While it was all kicking off, you had hid behind the crowd. Conflict was something you avoided. People were usually something you avoided but when a salesman came up to you with promises of money, how could you say no?

So, as you stood there, too shy to approach, you accepted the fact that you were probably going to die. There was no way you had enough courage in you to find a team. Even if you did, who was there to ask? The only person you might consider approachable was player 456 but he already had a team. There was no point going over there, asking and risking embarrassment as they turned you down. Aimlessly you wandered around the room, fingers toying with the ends of your sleeve – a nervous habit that you’d had since you were a child.

Guess you’d just have to accept your fate. You were either going to get killed because you couldn’t find a team or end up in a team who didn’t want you. Just as you were about to sit down and give up entirely, someone cleared their throat behind you. Spinning around, you came face to face with the infamous player 230. His purple hair was unmistakable, you’d seen him when he’d been fighting some other boy yesterday.

“Senorita, excuse me,” he said, his hands clenching his jacket to his chest. Your eyes landed on his multi-colored nails first before daring to glance up to look at him. Eyes met his dark ones for only a second before looking back down at the ground. He noticed instantly, tilting his head to the side as he looked at you. “Team with us.”

“R-really?” You dared to glance back up. He seemed serious but the look his friend was giving was anything but friendly. It looked like he’d rather team with anyone but you.

“Yeah, really? She’s kind of weird,” Nam-gyu looked you up and down, pulling a face then turning back to Thanos. “We can find someo-”

“Shutup,” he held his hand up in front of his friend’s face, his eyes solely focused on you. “Team with us. I’ll keep you safe.”

It wasn’t like you had any other options so you nodded. Thanos seemed thrilled, throwing his arm around your shoulders in a side hug. Your instinct was telling you not to trust him but at the same time there was something slightly comforting about him. After all, he had ignored his friend to solely talk to you. Why on Earth he was so adamant to have you on his team baffled you but it saved you from getting eliminated… if you made it through the game anyway. 

Turns out it was five mini games in one. As the rest of your team argued about who would do what, Thanos’ eyes were fixated on you who was looking at the ground. There was something about you that intrigued him. The difference in your personalities was more than noticeable. He was loud, crazy and obnoxious while you, on the other hand, seemed shy, insecure and quiet. Maybe it was true. Maybe opposites really did attract because for some reason, he wanted to get to know you more. He actually wanted to know you. That rarely happened with him. Usually he was the type of guy to get a crush, fuck and then move on to the next one. It was rare for ‘Mr One Night Stand’ to really want to get to know someone. To be honest, he wasn’t sure he liked the feeling. The pounding in his chest as he tried to examine you with his eyes. It was impossible to really get a good read on you.

“And, the loser over there can do Gonggi,” Nam-gyu’s voice echoed through your ears. Panic struck, you leaned forward, speaking before you even thought about it.

“I-I don’t know how to play Gonggi,” you mumbled.

“Better learn quickly then, huh?” Nam-gyu smiled fake-sweetly at you.

“Hey, stop it,” Thanos stopped his silent beat boxing to chime in, leaning forward to glare at his friend. “Leave her alone… What are you good at?”

“I can do spinning top. I played it a lot with my friends…” you tried to speak with a bit more confidence, a pink hue tinting your cheeks. Thanos noticed, grinning at you.

“Spinning top for you then. You’re cute, by the way,” he winked, causing your cheeks to only redden more.

Somehow, someway, the team had managed to survive. A lot of teams seemed to struggle with Spinning Top but you had got it the first try – Thanos almost blowing out your eardrums with the loud cheer of celebration when you did. Now, back in the main room, you were sat with the team. If it was up to you, you would have gone to sit by yourself but Thanos had insisted you sit with them. It seemed like he wanted to keep you around. It wouldn’t be too bad to have some friends, right? You sat beside Thanos, a space between you. While he was in a world of his own, DJing some invisible show in his head by the looks of his hand motions, the rest of the team were arguing. Your knees were pulled up to your chest, chin resting on them.

Watching everyone talk with each other so easily – even if it was arguing – made you feel slightly jealous that you couldn’t. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to because you did but the mere thought of striking up a conversation with anyone brought you too much anxiety. It was just better to keep to yourself. If you had to be the weird, quiet girl then so be it.

“They’re idiots,” the deep voice beside you said. Turning to look, you’d noticed Thanos had closed the distance between you both, his shoulder touching yours now. “You good?”

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” you smiled, tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. “Thanks for letting me team with you.”

“No problem, Senorita. Told you I’d keep you safe, didn’t I?” His toothy grin made your heart skip a beat. Oh boy. That was the last thing you needed.

“Y-yeah,” you laughed, tearing your eyes away from him yet again.

This time, his finger gently reached out, tilting your chin to look at him. His eyes pierced yours, a look of intrigue on his face. “You have pretty eyes. It’s a shame you think the floor deserves to see them more than me.” He leaned in a little closer, his hot breath fanning against your face. Being close to someone wasn’t new for you. It was something that didn’t happen often but you’d had your fair share of encounters with people. “Meant it when I said you were cute, babygirl. Stick with me through these games and when we survive, let me take you out for a drink. Maybe I can get more than a few words at a time out of you.”

Once again, he winked at you, removing his finger from your chin and turning his attention to the argument going on in front of him. Meanwhile you were in a daze, your heart beating against your chest so much you were sure it was about to beat out of your ribcage. Yeah, this man was definitely going to be trouble.

taglist: @angelofbooksworld @ldydeath @taivantaylor @sherlocke3d @djarindroid @justsisse @sassyyoyo @lillyysgirlblog @mysatnin @basquiat-top @urmomsg1rlfreind

[unknown-cold]

It's fanny how some people call her evil era.

We never saw her kill an innocent person, even when my friend saw the show he is not a fan of Arcane but he saw a lot of comments about it and I also urged him to watch it after all the excitement around it when I asked him about his opinion on the show and especially the character of Caitlyn he told me, he expected after all the posts and comments about her that she would go to Zaun and kill people with her gun he didn't expect that she just wears a costume that looks like a vampire and looks tough and mean, she would get this much hate. He even asked me why people don't talk or blame Ambessa isn't she the main reason behind most of the problems in this season and also Singed or even Silco and his allies?

I couldn't answer him except that people have double standards and are hypocrites because their criticism of Caitlyn's character is not because she did one bad thing but because she is from Piltover and an enforcer. I'm sure if Caitlyn was from Zaun and did worse things they would sympathize with her and love her, so their criticism is so hypocritical and has double standards. In short, their criticism of a character is not because she did bad things, but because of who she is and where she is from.

They forget that silco kills a lot of people, mainly people from the undercity, even kids, LOL have put a mini game on the clien and there you could find out that Silco use kids as lab rat to test the chem tanks.

And I'm sure now someone will come and tell me that Caitlyn used the gas on all of Zaun and killed people with it. Seriously idiot where did you get this? Can you show me a picture from the show that people died because of gray, and if it's true then the characters must are talking about it, that Caitlyn uses gray to kill innocent people. So this claim is not true, we saw at the beginning of episode 3 how Caitlyn used the gas strategically and not randomly and Amanda confirmed that. So she used it to catch gangs there. Because logically, 5 people wouldn't go to catch hundreds of gang members that easily, and also if one of the people got hurt Ekko would have talked about it and we know that Ekko is the most loyal person to his people, so even Ekko himself didn't complain about using gray, yes he and Scar were talking about the gangs that were working with Silco, and they didn't care about gray, why? Because this gas didn't hurt them.

Even if it hurt them and that using it was an evil act, why didn't you say this when Jinx used it on Piltover and injured innocent people, women and children, she didn't target enforcers for example, Jinx use the Grey randomly unlike Caitlyn, but is anyone talking about this? Of course not. And worse when I saw comments saying that Jinx should blow up Piltover again and eliminate the people of Piltover. Like some people have shown their true colors, that they don't care if a character did something bad or good, all they care about is who this character is.

And because Jinx is from Zaun and they have every right to do bad things, but Piltover doesn't even if they do good things they are still bad, what a shallow and ridiculous thinking. some Arcane fandom are probably the most stupid fandom nowadays, to them everyone from Zaun is a perfect angel who never do nothing wrong, everyone from Piltover is a monster with no feelings

The show is not black and white, that only exists in Disney movies, go and watch it if you are this kind of boring and traditional storytelling, Arcane proves every day that this show is not for everyone and if you want to enjoy it you have to open your mind well and be open-minded, and most importantly put politics and real life issues aside, and enjoy this fantasy world with flawed characters and good writing. (This show is not designed to solve political issues at the end of the day. It is a show based on a video game)

Morally, I do not agree with a Caitlyn's Evil Cop Era. The lesbian in me, however, really likes that dumbass coat.

Like. Really likes it.

[jarofstyles]

Benefits

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WC- 6.6k

Warnings- Asshole-ish H, smut, slight degrading, oral, slight possessiverry, etc

She knew he was watching.

A subtle smirk played on her lips as she helped herself to a drink in the kitchen, nearly able to feel the man’s eyes on her as he traced her dress. One she wore just for him, but would never admit to. He wasn’t good about hiding how much he watched her, how much he had been curious about her, but he hadn’t talked much to her. Only stared.

She'd been warned that Harry was a man of few words. He didn't go out of his way to talk, he was the stereotype of tall, dark, handsome and dangerous-but it's exactly what she's been craving. Twisting the lid back onto the mixer, she finally raised the cup to her lips as she turned around to face him. He wasn't hiding the fact that he was watching her. His eyes didn't stray. He liked that she didn't waver in her staring back, too. Y/N could tell.

It had been a long time since a man had properly excited her. She wasn’t exactly the easiest to please, if she was being honest. Y/N got bored easily, she liked to play games, to test people to see if they could handle her- but something about Harry had her fully understanding that he could handle her, no problem. Maybe it was just the look in his eyes that told her he was intrigued by her but also wanted to eat her alive, but she quite liked it.

Her eyes flirted with his, as she slowly took a sip, her throat bobbing delicately. "I think you're enjoying the view." Her voice was sultry, a taunt. She was baiting him, daring him to respond, to engage. The game of cat and mouse had been fun, but she wanted to be caught. "You're not very good at hiding it."

“M’not trying to hide it.” His raspy voice made her internally peek up. She’d only heard it a handful of times but each one had nearly had her purring. The man had the voice of her wet dreams, and she sort of hated how he was checking off boxes she had purposely put too high.

A small smirk played on her lips as she set the cup down, her hands moving to rest on the counter. She leaned forward, her arms stretching out in front of her, very aware she was very generously handing over a view of her chest for him to glaze over. "Is that so?" She asked, matching his tone. "You're just going to stand there and stare at me then?" The challenge was laid out softly, despite the tension in the room.

“Mm. I was enjoying the view.” His body was leaned against the cabinets of the kitchen, no shame at all in admitting the fact. “Think y’like when I look.”

Her eyes traveled up his face and met his eyes, a slow blink the only reaction to his words. She liked it, damn it. She liked being the focus of his attention, even if he wasn't saying anything particularly sweet or romantic. There was something about his blunt honesty that drew her in. "And what if I told you I don't like it?" She asked, her voice a gentle purr. "What would you do then?"

“I’d tell you t’stop looking like that and maybe we could come to an agreement.” His eyes kept contact with no issue, challenging her back. “I know you’ve been looking back at me when y’think I’m not going to notice.”

God, he was hot. It was infuriating, really. Men weren’t supposed to effect her like this. She’d always had the upper hand, but this one had her wavering as she reached up to twist a strand of her hair around her finger. "And what kind of agreement would that be?" She asked with a soft tilt to her voice. She loved the way he spoke, the way his accent rolled off his tongue. It was so…different to the general population of men she was used to. Some could accuse her of being excited over having a new flavor at her fingertips, but Y/N would argue that anyone who got a few moments alone with him would feel that level of excitement prickle their nerves. "One where I stop looking at you and you start talking to me?" The girl suggested, the small smirk playing on her lips growing.

“Perhaps.” Crossing his arms, he stood up off the counter and slowly sauntered over to her. “Was tryin’ to figure you out. Don’t get new additions in the group often, and you’re different than the people we’re usually around.” His tall form had her lifting her head a bit to keep his eyes as he stopped in front of her.

 She’d been right. He was taller than she’d thought, and broader. The man had kept a physical distance before, but now she was feeling the effects of him dropping that barrier. He was just so…large. And it made her feel small, which was a feeling she rarely experienced. "And what have you figured out?" She asked softly, tilting her head to the side as her eyes fluttered to his lips briefly before meeting his eyes again.

“I’ve figured out a couple of things.” Taking another step forward he gave her the chance to move if she wanted- but she didn’t. Backing against the counter, she didn’t shy away from him. “Mostly that you’re a little bit bratty, but you aren’t fake. You’ve been mostly nice t’everyone.” It had been a relief. Harry wouldn’t have been shy about calling her out on ulterior motives, but he only knew of one- and it had come after she’d already met everyone. “And you want me t’fuck you.”

She swallowed hard, her heart in her throat as he took another step forward. Again, she could have moved, but she didn't. Instead, she stayed put, her back against the counter as she met his gaze. His words were blunt, and she liked that about him. Most people would sugarcoat things, but not him. "And what if I do?" She asked, her voice faltering slightly for the first time in a long time. It was so different, but...She liked it. He had managed to get her to feel something different. Naturally making her feel a little more submissive when she had been so used to taking in the opposite role. 

“I’d fuck you.” Harry rose a shoulder in a shrug. “I’ve wanted to do it since I met you. Had to figure out if you were someone who was going to stick around.” The tension was thick between them. “I don’t usually fuck people just once. Don't like to think with my dick. But I think you’d want it more than once.”

Her breath caught in her throat, the heat pooling between her legs at his words. She’d known he wanted her by the way he had looked at her body, but hearing him say it out loud had her insides quivering. He was so…crude and it was so hot. "I’d want it more than once." She admitted breathlessly. She wasn’t one to shy away from the fact. "And how many times do you think it would be?"

“I’m not in the business of letting you nut off and fuck off. If m’fucking you, you’ll be in my bed for hours. I don’t go easy.” It was the truth she needed to hear. Harry wasn’t one to half ass sex, and considering he’d been letting the want fester for a bit now, he had plenty of things he wanted to do for her. “Is that something you can handle?”

Her throat was dry, her voice hoarse as she responded, "Hours? That sounds...nice." She wanted to tell him that she could handle anything he threw at her, but she knew he'd only call her bluff. She'd never had a man talk to her like this before when she had confidence he could actually back up the claims, and it was exciting. Y/N wanted to know what else he'd say, what else he'd do. "And if I can't? What happens then?"

“Then I’ll walk away and let you continue your night. M’not going to do any of that if it isn’t what you can take, or isn’t what you want.” He made no effort to move, though, because he already knew what her answer is going to be. “You’re not gonna make it weird for everyone else in the group after we fuck, yeah? You’ll be able to behave yourself whenever we go out for the stupid dinners and drinks?”

She swallowed hard, his words making her feel things she hadn't felt in a long time. The way he was talking to her, the intensity in his eyes, it was all so new and thrilling. "I can handle anything you give me." She said softly, her voice filled with a confidence she didn't quite feel but wanted to project. "And I can behave myself. I'm not some teenager who's going to go running to the group about this."

“Just got t’be sure, Cherry.” Lifting a finger up towards her bottom lip, he smeared the lipstick with his thumb before pulling it back. “You don’t seem to be the kiss and tell type, but you never know.”

Her eyes fluttered closed briefly as his thumb brushed against her bottom lip, again the action so simple yet so hot. A little invasive- in a good way. She couldn't help but part her lips slightly, inviting him to touch her more. "I'm not. And besides, who would I tell?" She asked softly.

“That’s the right answer.” He sighed, taking a second to look over his shoulder and back to her face. “C’mon then. M’not fucking you here. Don’t want you to have to keep quiet. If I’m fucking you, I want to hear you.” Curling his hand around the back of her neck, he brought her out the back door. “S’a short walk.”

——-

He had a nice house. Smaller, with a porch and garage. Newly painted, lawn maintained and a little tree in the front. It wasn’t the bachelor pad she had expected, but she really didn’t know that much about him- did she? That was becoming more apparent the longer she spent near him. 

“C’mon. Inside.” He unlocked the door and ushered her in, relieving them from the chill of the night. “Shouldn’t go out without a jacket next time.” The grumble seemed to make her laugh as he tossed his keys into the bowl, kicking his shoes haphazardly on the mat. She hadn’t expected to go on a stroll, so she had left the jacket in her car- but he didn’t really care about that. “Do you want a drink? Or do you just want to get into it?”

Her eyes scanned the cozy interior of his home, taking her even further by surprise. No, it wasn’t the bachelor pad at all. It was tidy and clean, with a few personal touches that gave her a glimpse into what was probably his actual personality. She noticed a guitar in the corner, a few books on a shelf, and a framed photo on the mantle that she couldn’t quite make out. “Huh?” The place had warmth she hadn’t expected to see, and the distraction was evident as she vaguely heard him ask something.

“Do you want me t’get you a drink, or do you want me to get to fucking you?”

Her attention snapped back to him, his words making her blush. Honestly? She really did love how blunt he could be, no sugarcoating or beating around the bush. It was so common to have people be coy about what they wanted, but then again Harry wasn’t anything close to most people she had met.  "Oh, um, I think I'll go with the second option," Her words came out slightly shy, with a hesitant smile. She looked around the room again, taking in the details, before her gaze landed back on him. "But first, can I ask you something?"

“Yeah.” He grunted, taking a step into her space and putting his hands on her waist as he backed her further into the home. “Make it quick. Dick’s fucking aching.”

Her breath hitched as he moved closer, his hands on her waist making her feel small and delicate. She licked her lips, hesitation flickering in her eyes before she asked, "It’s just…Why me? You've barely said two words to me before tonight. And now...here we are." She trailed off, nibbling her lip. A nervous tell.

“Because I was trying t’see if you were someone that was going to stick around.” He said bluntly. “Lots of people pop in and back out. Didn’t know if you’d be one of the floaters. Got to watch you and see how you were before I talked to you. I wanted to see what you’d say.” While some could call it a little creepy, he’d more so put it as educating himself for the best result. “Wasn’t sure you’d be okay with me fucking you. Some people can’t handle me or how I talk. You’re a sweet little thing but I can tell you like some of the nasty shit. So we’d most likely get along.”

She blinked at him, processing his blunt words. A small, almost imperceptible shiver ran through her body at his assessment. He had been watching her, evaluating her...and apparently found her worthy of letting her see a whole different side of him. Y/N hadn’t pushed her luck in regard to asking about him but she figured there wasn’t much people would say anyways. It was obvious to her through her own observations that he had been quiet about a lot on purpose. Considering there were a few people in the group that did indeed find him incredibly attractive, it was more than exciting that he had chosen her- mirrored her own quiet interest. The thought sent a thrill down her spine. 

"I...I appreciate your thoroughness," she said, a slight tremor in her voice, though trying to still appear confident in the way she had tried to portray. It wasn’t an act- she really was like that- but Harry had that little edge to him that made her want to soften up. "And you're right, I can handle you. I like a man who knows what he wants."

She took a deep breath, steeling herself. “And what do you want, specifically?” Her voice was low, almost breathy as she looked up at him. “With me?” His words had given her a lot to think about. The way he had evaluated her, the way he had found her worthy all while barely knowing her, and the way he had so bluntly admitted that he wanted her around for more than just a one-night stand. But she wanted to hear it all.

“I want to have an arrangement between the two of us. Told you, m’not someone who fucks people once. Not sure if m’looking for a relationship, but I want to like the person I’m fucking.” It was convinent for a release, having an understanding. “We’ve obviously got physical chemistry, find each other attractive and have the same friends. I think…” He leaned his face closer to hers. “We should be friends that fuck. Often.”

She nodded slowly, her gaze locked onto his. "Friends with benefits," she clarified softly. "No strings attached, but...exclusivity?" She wanted to know that she was the only one he was sleeping with, even if they weren't in a traditional relationship. "And we can still hang out with our mutual friends, just...without them knowing the details?" She bit her lip, considering the proposition.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about me, I don’t have the time to find other people to fuck. Work a lot, and I’ve got particular taste. I don’t want to worry about you fucking around either. Too much shit goes around. Eventually I’d like to ditch the condoms.” He shrugged, firmly gripping her waist to pick her up and set her on the hallway table. “It’ll be nice. You can just… Call me when you need to be fucked. I’ll call you. Scratch the itch. The rest don’t have to know a thing.”

She let out a soft sigh as he set her on the table, her arms wrapping around his neck as he towered over her. "Alright," she agreed, her heart racing at the thought of being exclusive with him. "Just you and me, no strings, no other people involved." She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. "And...no labels either, right? We're just friends who fuck, nothing more."

“Right. As long as you know that cunt’s mine to fuck for now, I’m happy.” He chuckled under his breath, nudging her thighs apart. “You wore this dress for me, didn’t you?” Fingers dragged up her inner thigh as he questioned her. “Cause you wanted my attention.”

She let her legs fall open, her breath hitching as he nudged her thighs apart. Her heart fluttered at his words, her insides clenching at the possessiveness in his voice. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she knew she had. When the confirmation that he had been coming had been dropped in the group text, she had taken getting ready a bit more seriously. Though she hadn’t expected this to be the outcome. Not in the slightest. "Yes, it was for you," she admitted, her voice dropping to a whisper as he touched her thigh. "I hoped you’d like it.” She squirmed, her legs spreading further. "Did you?

“Decided to take you home, didn’t I?” Shaking his head, he let out a sigh as he watched her squirm. “Course I fuckin’ liked it. But you’ve been taunting me, and you weren’t subtle about it either. Figured I had to ask you now.” Ghosting his fingertips along the hem of her panties, he tangled his other hand in the ends of her hair to tug her head back. “Could tell you were starting to get a little desperate.”

She moaned softly as he pulled her head back, her eyes fluttering closed briefly before locking onto his again. "Well, you were staring at me like you wanted to eat me alive," she retorted, her voice breathy. "So...yeah, maybe I was getting a little desperate." She bit her lip, shifting her hips forward. "So, are you going to touch me now?"

His touch was gentle, almost torturously so, as he ran his fingertips over the damp fabric. His eyes were locked onto hers, watching her reactions intently. "You're so eager. Though m’not so sure I like the sass. I’ll do as I like, and you can tell me how good it feels." he murmured, his thumb pressing down on her through the thin material. "I bet you're dripping, aren't you?" His touch grew firmer, ever so slowly rubbing his thumb over her clit.

Her breath hitched, her hips bucking forward to meet his touch. She hadn’t been sure how he would be in this sort of scenario, but it was better than she imagined. It took a special sort of man to make her feel even the slightest bit submissive and she almost melting. "Y-yes," she stammered, her voice slightly shaky. It was embarrassing how wet she got for him before he’d even touched her. "I'm...I'm soaking for you." Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as her head fell back against the wall.

She could feel his touch like a brand through the thin fabric, her legs spreading wider to grant him better access. Her breath came in short gasps, her chest heaving with each breath. "Please," she whimpered, her hips moving in rhythm with his touch. "It's not enough..."

“Greedy.” He laughed through his nose. “I was curious how you’d be once I got my hands on you. You talk a big game, like t’be a tease… but in reality, you’re a desperate little slut, hm?” It was the most he’s ever spoken to her, but she couldn’t complain when his words went straight to her cunt.

"I can’t help it! You started it.” She gasped as he found a rhythm, her body tensing as his fingers tugged the panties to the side, slipping under the fabric. "Oh god…” She moaned, her body tensing as his calloused fingertips grazed her bare flesh.  His words made her squirm, her body trembling as he slid a long, thick finger inside her.

“I didn’t start anything.” His voice was contained, even as he spoke with the smug little smirk on his face. “I told you, I needed t’figure you out. I hoped you’d be like this…” Looking down to where his hand was hidden between her legs, slowly pushing his finger in and out of her sopping wet cunt, he licked over his bottom lip. “Desperate. Melt at the slightest touch. You rejected everyone who came up to you at the bars when they wanted to take you home but you love t’flirt. You knew they wouldn’t be able to give you what you needed- so you waited for me to move in.”

"Mmmm…” She let out a moan as he slipped another finger inside her. "They can’t handle me. They want to try but I don’t want someone to try- I want them to do it.” she whimpered, rocking her hips into his hand. "You’re wrong, you did start it.” She gasped out, her back arching as he crooked his fingers to graze against that sweet spot inside her. "You walked in and you...you just stared at me like you owned me.”

“Because I did.” He leaned forward, letting their lips brush. “And now I do. This wet little cunt is mine to fuck for now. Got all slick before I had even laid my hands on you, fucking filthy.” He sneered. “Listen to that.” The sound of his fingers fucking into her were audible beneath her pants.

The squelching sound of his fingers pumping in and out of her quivering hole echoed through the room, a lewd melody that grew louder with each thrust. Her own wetness made his digits glisten, the sound of her coating his skin becoming embarrassingly audible. Every push into her tight hole was met with a wet slap of his palm over her clit, punctuated by her short breaths and gasps.

"It is your fault!" She hissed, her voice strained as she tried to keep quiet. "You kept staring at me like…like you wanted to devour me. It's not fair!" Her hips jerked forward as he increased the pace, her hand flying to his shoulders to steady herself. "You're gonna make me come like this." She hissed, her nails digging into his shirt.

“Then cum.” He taunted. “If it’s all my fault that your desperate pussy got all sloppy and wet, cum on my fingers and show me that then. Barely even touched you and you’re clenching all around my fingers.”

Her breath hitched, her face flushing with heat. "Oh god, shut up..." She hissed, her hips bucking against his hand as he curled his fingers inside her, getting the spot she couldn’t get on her own. "H-Harry… Fuck." She let out a high-pitched cry as she finally shattered, her inner muscles tightening around his fingers as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.

Her body trembled as the intense pressure building inside her finally broke. Her inner walls clamped down around his fingers, squeezing them as she rode out the waves of her orgasm. The lewd sounds of his digits moving in and out of her drenched opening grew louder as she writhed against his hand, soaking his skin. Without thinking, she buried her face against his neck, muffling her whimpers as the peak of her climax washed over her.

"There y’go. Filthy girl, making a mess of my hand.” He coaxed, slowing his fingers down but rubbing right against the spongy spot in her cunt to make it last. “That’s what you needed, wasn’t it?”

"Mmm, yes." She mumbled against his neck, her breath hitching as aftershocks wracked her body. "Please...please no more..." She whimpered, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as she clung to him, boneless and spent. "It's too much." Her voice was soft, vulnerable.

“I think you can take more.” He said with a laugh, but pulled his fingers out anyway. “But since m’nice, I’ll give you a second. I’ll go easy on you since it’s the first time we’re fucking, but next time m’not stopping. You’ll keep cumming.” Harry had plenty of plans for her, she had no clue how much he’d been planning on this. “C’mon.” Scooping her up easily, he had her wrap her legs around his waist and arms around his shoulders as he carried her through the house.

"You’re insufferable.” She muttered, her head nuzzling against his neck as her body trembled in the aftermath of her release. She let out a soft squeak as he easily picked her up, her face flushed as she hid it. "Where are we going?” She asked, her voice soft. "I can walk, you know...” Y/N trailed off, her face flushing. "I’m not light, either.”

“Shut the fuck up with that. M’holding you, and m’not struggling.” He grunted, giving her ass a swat as he kicked open the door to his bedroom. “Bringing you to my room. Since your cunt needs a second, figured it’s nicer on your knees if you’re kneeling on my carpet t’suck me off.” The bluntness showed its head again as he felt her pull her face from his neck. “Been thinking about you getting that lipstick you keep wearin’ all over my cock.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, her cheeks flushing darker. "Oh...” She trailed off, licking her lips unconsciously as her gaze lowered to his crotch. "You mean like this?” She asked, her voice soft and sultry as she slid down his body to land on her feet. She slowly sank to her knees, her hands resting on his thighs. "Maybe I will, maybe I won’t..."

“I think you will. You’ve been gagging for it.” His hands grabbed the buckle of his belt as she looked up at him on her knees, the picture absolutely perfect. “You look awfully good there. Think you were made to be on your knees for me.” Depositing the leather onto the floor, he reached for her face and let his thumb smear her cherry red lipstick. “Go on. Undo my trousers, take my cock out. Know it’s what y’want. Don’t have to play coy with me.”

Her eyes fluttered closed as he smeared her lipstick, her tongue darting out to lick at her lips. "Mmm, you think so?” She cooed, her hands moving to his fly. She deftly undid the button and zipper, her slender fingers pushing the fabric down his hips. She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the bulge in his boxers, her voice low. "Maybe…” Her breath hitched as she felt the warmth of his body through the fabric. "Maybe I'll take your cock out and give it a little kiss first," she whispered, her hands gripping the elastic waistband, slowly pulling them down to help his cock out.

She looked up at him through her lashes, her pink tongue darting out to lick her lips once more. His cock was thick, the head flushed a ruddy red. Reaching out, she wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft, feeling the heat radiating from him. "So big and hard for me." she purred, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to the tip of his cock. Brushing her tongue around the sensitive tip, she smeared the precum that had leaked out. Looking up at him, she felt the thrill in her stomach as his eyes darkened with lust as he watched her. She opened her mouth, slowly lathing her tongue lick up and down his shaft from base to tip.

“There y’go.” He breathed, gathering her hair in a loose excuse for a ponytail. The red had transferred some to his cock and he loved the vision. He’d thought about it more times than he could count. “One day, think I should film this. Let you see how pretty you look on your knees.” He murmured, watching as her tongue ran back over the slit. “Get it wet.”

Humming in approval at his words, her tongue continuing to lap at his length, eyes fluttered closed as she felt his hand tighten in her hair. “I would like that.” Continuing to lick him, her tongue traced the ridges and veins of his cock before she looked up at him, wrapping her lips around the tip.

“Good.” He grunted as he felt the plushness of her lips take the head of him into her mouth, the slow pull of the suction. “Take a little more. Know you’ve been thinking about sucking this cock. Show me.”

As he spoke, she listened, taking more of him into her mouth. Unfortunately, she was not as immune to him as she had tried to be. It seemed she had met her match, wanting to please him in ways she usually scoffed at with any other man. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking hard as she bobbed her head up and down, doing the work she needed to make him pleased. Her hand wrapped around the base, stroking in time with her mouth as she looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, her throat working around his thickness.

“Oh, fuck.” He laughed deeply, head tilting back as she showed him what he had asked for. “Thatta’ girl. Knew you had it in you. Shit.” He cursed under his breath as the heat of her mouth welcomed him, taking him much better than he had anticipated.

She could feel his hands in her hair, guiding her pace, making sure she was taking him just right. The salty taste of his precum mixed with the musky scent of his arousal was intoxicating, making her head spin. She looked up at him, her lips stretched around his girth, and saw the raw desire in his eyes. It only fueled her own hunger, making her suck him even harder, desperate to please him.

Y/N moaned around his cock as he bottomed out in her throat, the vibrations traveling up his shaft. Her nose pressed against his pelvis as she swallowed around him, her throat constricting to make him hiss. She held herself there, savoring the feeling of being so completely filled by him before slowly pulling back to catch her breath. Strings of saliva connected her lips to his spit-shined cock.

His face contorted with pleasure as she deep-throated him, a guttural groan escaping his lips. "God, you're so good at that." Harry praised, his hands fisting her hair tighter. His hips bucked forward, meeting her bobbing head, the wet sounds of her mouth filling the room. His breathing grew heavier, chests heaving as he struggled to maintain control. "You’re gonna be a lot of fun to fuck, aren’t you?”

“Mhm.” With a messy pop, she pulled his cock out of her mouth, saliva dripping from his glistening tip. She looked up at him, her eyes dark with lust, before leaning forward and spitting directly onto his cock. The mess hit him dripping over the side, making him hiss in surprise. Rubbing her saliva into his cock, she coated him in it as she smirked up. Getting him to react was a reward. He had barely said anything to anyone, and she was the one getting him to groan and hiss. Sue her for feeling a little special. “Think it’s wet enough?” She purred, coy as she looked at him through his lashes.

Before she could say another word, Harry grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back, his mouth crashing against hers in a searing kiss. His tongue pushed past her lips, making her moan in surprise. Was he good at everything? She could taste herself on him, the salty sweetness of her saliva mixing with the heat of his own mouth. Biting down on her lower lip, he pulled it gently between his teeth before letting go.

 "You talk too much."

Her breath hitched as he spoke against her mouth, his voice low and commanding. She could only manage a whimper in response, her knees growing weak. He took advantage of her parted lips and weakened stance, slipping his hands around to squeeze her ass, pulling her flush against him so she could feel him against her tummy. "But you're right," he murmured, voice roughened by desire. "You've made quite a mess. Think you’re ready to take my cock?"

She nodded eagerly, her eyes locked onto his intense gaze. "Then turn around and bend over the bed," he ordered, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. She quickly complied, feeling a rush of cool air against her bare backside as she leaned forward, gripping the bed sheets tightly. 

As she leaned her chest further into the bed, she felt the soft fabric of the comforter against her breasts, her hard nipples grazing against it. Every sensation felt a little overwhelming, but in a good way. It had been a long time coming considering how she had tried to navigate how to work up how to simply talk to Harry, and now he was her supposed friends with benefits. Patience was wearing thin.  Swaying her ass enticingly, wanting to give him a good show- make him break. The room was filled with the sound of her shallow breathing, her chest heaving as she tried to regulate her breathing. Behind her, she could hear the crinkle of plastic as he sheathed himself in a condom.

She could imagine how Harry must look right now, his dark eyes fixed on her ass as he prepared himself. The thought sent her reeling. If only she had eyes on the back of her head. Feeling him step close, his body heat radiating off of himself and into her bare skin, she lifted her hips slightly, trying to guide his cock to press against her soaked entrance.

Harry's strong hands gripped her hips firmly, guiding her movements and controlling the pace. control- he was exercising the control that she clearly did not have. She felt the tip of his prick slowly push against her, inch by agonizing inch. Gasping, her fingers clawing at the bedsheets as she stretched to accommodate his size. The sensation was intense, bordering on overwhelming, but she welcomed it nonetheless, pushing back against him to encourage him to continue. "Oh, fucks sake.” She sulked into the mattress.

,"It’s not fair. You can’t.. You’re not supposed t’have such a big dick when you act like one.”  Her words came out in a string of stuttered moans as he seated himself fully inside her, his hips flush against her ass. He gave a low, satisfied chuckle, his body tensing as he held himself deep inside her.  She felt her insides clench around him, her body instinctively trying to adjust to his size. “Oh, no? You don’t like it?”

She shook her head vehemently, biting her lip as she felt him throb inside her. "N-no, I love it. I fucking love it." She admitted breathlessly, her voice thick with need. "It's just not...fair that you get to have such a perfect cock and you waited so long to give it to me." She punctuated her words with a roll of her hips, relishing the drag of his thick length against her walls.

Her insides felt like a silken vice around him, pulsating rhythmically as if trying to milk him despite him not being inside her long enough to do so.  Her body was already betraying her as her walls quivered around him, her inner muscles fluttering as if trying to entice him to move, to draw him in deeper. Her body was warm, and she was tight, gripping him as if she hadn’t been with anyone in years.

A smug grin spread across his face as he let out a low, satisfied groan from deep within his chest. “Well, m’sorry, babe. Had t’make sure you’d be a good fit for my cock. I think I made the right call, though. Tight little thing, squeezing me the way I like.” He taunted, his voice laced with amusement. His hands tightened on her hips, fingers digging into her flesh as he slowly began to move within her. "You like how I fill you up?" He punctuated his words with slow, measured thrusts, his voice growing hoarser as she clenched around him.

When she struggled to answer, he let out a laugh instead. He continued to speak for her, his voice a low, husky rumble as he slowly pumped into her. "Yeah, y’like being stuffed full of my cock. Like how it stretches you open and makes you feel so fucking small." He teased, his fingers digging into her hips as he picked up his pace slightly. "Barely able to talk back to me when I know you love to run that filthy mouth. Must be because you’re not used to being filled like this.”

She mewled, her hips rolling to meet his thrusts. He was right. Embarrassingly so. The wet squelch of his cock plunging in and out of her filled the room, mixing with the erotic symphony of their moans and groans. He could feel her getting more slick, her arousal coating his shaft and dripping down onto his balls. "That's it, take it deep like that. You like to play tough, but you just want t’be a good girl for me. Isn’t that right?"

Her response was a strangled cry, her pussy fluttering around him as if to agree. He grunted in approval, his hips snapping forward to fill her again. "Good girl," he praised darkly. "You're doing so well. Such a good little thing, taking me so well. Now answer me.” The croon was soft, a direct opposite to his pace. “Gonna let me fuck you when I want, mm? Gonna call me when y’need it too?”

She keened, her voice echoing in the room. "Y-Yes please... I- I'll call you. I'll be good. I'll... I'll let you. I'll let you whenever you want!" Her words came out disjointed, broken up by his thrusts growing a bit harder, jostling her where she laid. Her hands fisted the sheets beneath her, her knuckles turning white as she tried to keep herself grounded.

"That’s a good fuckin’ girl. You're gonna be so well-behaved for me, aren't you?" He cooed, his voice a soothing contrast to the growing brutal pace of his hips. One hand slid up her back, pressing between her shoulder blades to keep her arched as he took his pleasure from her. "You're mine t’play with now, understand? This pretty little cunt belongs to me." As he continued to pound into her, she felt a sense of contentment wash over her. This was exactly what she needed - someone to take control, to make her feel desired and owned. And Harry was perfect for the job. They were going to be lovely friends, with many benefits. As she teetered on the edge of her climax, she felt a sense of peace settle over her, knowing that she was exactly where she was meant to be.

[meanbossart]

hi rj! i’ve been following you for a couple of months now and i’m actually obsessed with your art and du drow 😭 i saw your recent post/reply to an ask about your favorite art from last year and for the comic, you put old habits. naturally i had to read it again and couldn’t help but wonder (and sorry if you’ve replied to this before), but what does du drow’s voice sound like?

you have such a knack for writing natural-sounding dialogue and as a writer i am SO envious hahah, and whenever you add dialogue to your art pieces i imagine drow speaking with a low timbre or baritone voice?? do you perhaps have a voice actor’s voice in mind for drow? and god i know hope this man has some sort of accent or “curve” to the end of his words (i say this as someone who speaks 3 languages and sounds different in every single one)!!

Hello! Oh, I apologize for what may be a very boring answer, but DU drow's voice is simply intended to read as the Dark Urge's voice (number 5, I believe) that the game defaults to when you pick that origin.

That's the voice I had to listen to it throughout the entirety of the game, all hundred-something hours, every time I clicked on the guy, had him attack, crouch, or start a dialogue. Neil Roberts' cadence and accent has been seared into my brain and I can't hear it as anything else. The "flair" of DU drow's sentences and vocabulary is also modeled entirely after what the game's acting provides for a dark urge character. I guess the ONLY note I could make is that he's about 10% less intense during normal conversation.

(voice 5 starts at 7:07)

So, deep voice, very gravelly, and a pronounced - and surprisingly a little posh - english accent. He performs a sort of rugged elderness, (he's always made sure to sound older than he actually is) enunciates carefully, and speaks slowly. He's far more casual around people he's close to (unless he's trying to woo them, of course) and knows to talk simpler and softer with children - in general, he has very good control over his words and delivery, though he gets swept in emotion half the time after being tadpoled.

[postcardsfromheapside]

Lol, friends if you weren't there for the Astarion discourse, I am so happy for you.

People were most often upset over the idea of being poly with Halsin, because they wanted and did project onto Astarion that he is unable to say no to Tav for fear of losing them (not only is he perfectly genuine about having an open relationship, but by Act 3 he is fully capable of saying no, even if he's just being a silly shit about something and doesn't actually mean it). The conversations about how “I would never cheat on him!” (ethical non-monogamy is not cheating) bleeding into “he doesn't actually like sex!” (not really relevant to the ENM, and certainly something we can discuss, but seems like you're upset at the idea HE might want another partner) were ridiculous and turned dramatic.

On a spawnstarion route, there's also a dialogue route in the graveyard scene I think where you can discuss the possibility of things changing (implying your relationship) and he expresses he's no longer scared by the possibility. He would probably be sad if it did, but he no longer feels dependent on anyone, so he's no longer scared of what life has to hold. Y'all when I tell you I saw people lose their minds over this - they didn't want to think about Astarion independent and not needing them, not needing their blood, not needing their magical genitalia, their “love” to make him feel whole. I saw so many posts about how they can never not romance him because how can they leave him lonely, despite the fact that his unromanced spawn conversations in the epilogue is one of the most healing and powerful sequences I've ever been through. He literally fixes himself. He makes himself happy, despite having severe limitations on his living experience. He becomes a *hero*. All on his own. And they can't stand it.

Astarion is the perfect vehicle for folks to lay the fantasy of a codependent relationship over, just as Lucanis is the perfect fantasy for them to “fix” an actually very nice guy who arrives with a “bad boy twin��� with whom they can pretend to have a threesome.

I'm not against people working their fantasies or issues out through video games at all, I only get irritated when those things become externalized in the form of racism, misogyny, queerphobia, etc, which we see a lot in how people express their feelings about other characters, or how they frequently pattern their feelings onto the VA's.

If you feel the need to hide a pixel man away from a pixel woman, when both are programmed not to get together if you lock in the relationship with either one, at that point you actually need to get help. But more generally, feeling jealous because someone you are interested in has a life and friends and even crushes outside of “you” is something you should talk about with a qualified professional.

[rensukepie]

*ೃ༄ “i wanna ride!” (ride!)

┈─ ੈ✩‧₊˚ o. a

contains : face riding, aiku teases you with his stubble :;(, aiku’s nose hits your clit ^—^, cunnilingus :3, very shy reader, established relationship, pet names (doll, angel).

who is he to say no to his pretty girl when she wants to ride his face?

a/n : inspired by @aikuposer ‘s comment about his nose…

mdni (minors do NOT interact!!)

nsfw under the cut

“you’re very, very shy.” something that was said by multiple people, even aiku said it himself. you can’t really say your thoughts out loud to him, hell—you can’t say your thoughts out loud to anybody! you can’t say them without this flush coming to your face, sounds of your stutters flying out of your mouth.

“how can you not say your thoughts out loud? i’d talk and talk everyday if i had a boyfriend…” your friend said, lips going into a pout as she talks about not having a boyfriend.

“you know… you should reallyyy tell aiku about your thoughts.. especially about that one thing..” she smiles, bursting out laughing when she thinks about it.

gosh, you regret telling your friend about that now.

aiku had a bigger nose, and he’s just so, so handsome! you can’t really believe he’s your boyfriend sometimes, you wanna try something new with him in bed though, you’ve been thinking about it allll week already! the thought of his nose hitting your clit as you ride his face, his tongue licking at your cunt.

if only you weren’t so scared of talking about your feelings.

you knew that if you weren’t so scared, maybe you’d be more comfortable about talking about your desires for him, your needs for him.

“yeah, but what if he thinks it’s weird, what if i get dumped right there—“ you say worriedly before getting cut off.

“i can absolutely guarantee you he won’t find you weird…. c’mon! tell him tonight when he comes home from his soccer game or something!” your friend says in a convincing tone that always ends up working.

“okay.. i”lll try… but if it doesn’t go well, i’m blaming you.”

“and if it does go well, you better tell me everything!” your friend shouts, teasing you even more about your boyfriend before you head back home.

┈─ ੈ✩

you’re at home now, waiting for aiku to come home from his soccer game, cooking a quick meal before you head his key jingling from outside.

“hi aiku!” you say excitedly, turning off the stove before hugging him, the familiar scent of his cologne.“missed you so much…” you whine, your voice sweet like honey.

gosh—he loves when you get clingy like this! you’re so sweet to him, so good to him.

“missed you too, sweet girl…” he says, giving you a peck before heading to the shared room between the two of you.

┈─ ੈ✩

“aiku… wanna tell you something… just really quick! ‘s been on my mind all week..” you softly say, really hoping that he can’t hear the fast beating of your heart as he scrolls away watching those silly baby chick videos he always loved.

“hm? go ahead, pretty… i’ll listen to you.” he faces your face, burning red from what you’re about to say to him.

“i wanna try something new in bed…” you say, your face into his neck, a quiet tone when you speak to him.

“oh? what did you have in mind, angel?”

“i wanna ride your face… your nose would be hitting my clit… m’sorry if it’s weird aiku i—“

“oh fuck…” he groans, his cock hardening at your words. “well, who am i to deny my pretty girl for asking so nicely, right?”

┈─ ੈ✩

“a—aiku… ohh… mmf—!♡” you whimper softly, your clit hitting his nose as you grind your hips back and fourth. if you weren’t so shy, you would’ve done this before!

“hm? feels good, right? don’t gotta be so shy now, angel…” he murmurs softly, his hands wandering to both your hips and ass.

you can’t even hear what he’s even saying to you, but his voice is vibrating into your cunt with his little groans about how good you taste and it just feels so, so good to you! you bet he’s doing it just to tease you.

“y-you’re doing that on purpose—hah..! mmf—..” you moan again, but get caught off guard when you feel his stubble on your clit, the texture of it adding even more pleasure. “aiku—! f-feels s’good…mmf..—you’re teasing me..—♡”

he continues to tease you, his tongue going a bit faster at your cunt, your hip movements getting more lazy as the pleasure catches up to your body, the weird sensation on your clit.

“gonna give up on me now, doll? we’ve only just started…” he groans, the feeling of his lips smirking on your very soaked cunt.

“c—can’t take anymo— aiku! m’gonna cum! pleasepleaseplease—… mmf!…♡”

┈─ ੈ✩

“t-thank you aiku… s’good…. missed you, by the way..” you whisper as you wrap your arms around him on the bed, your fucked out state showing off. the one that aiku always saw when he made you feel good.

what a good boyfriend he is to take care of your needs.

[parkerluvsu]

my thoughts on Ethel Cain's "Perverts" as i listen to it:

Track 1: Perverts

such a haunting way to open an album, i think it took 3 seconds for me to get chills honestly. hearing "nearer my god to thee" in such a different way than i usually do was so disturbing. the longer the song went (12 min), the more comfortable i felt sitting and listening to the droning sounds in the background. the last line, "it's happening again honey" is just such a great tie in to everything about the Ethel Cain lore.

Track 2: Punish

from the first time i heard this song (as a single), i was so glad to hear the piano that immediately took me back to "Preachers Daughter" and the vocals!! as much as i love instrumental tracks, it's always welcome to hear her voice. her voice is almost floating above the instrumentals and background noises (creaking?) and a contrast to the dark lyrics. the line "only god knows" is weirdly comforting to me, yet again reminding me of "Preachers Daughter" and of course the guitar when "they made me leave" is so amazing. the song is very angelic at the start, but a feel the frustration starting to build during the song, and like all her songs, it gives me chills.

Track 3: Housofpsychoticwomn

the clock (?) ticking immediately reminded me of my grandmother's house, spending the night there, sitting in silence except for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway. the repeated phrase of "i love you" yet again sends a chill down my spine, overlapped with words and phrases i can't quite make out. it feels like im asleep and hearing people talk around me, or in another room, just laying there and trying to pick up what they're saying. in another way, it sounds like the inside of my head, indescribable voices having conversations while i try to comfort myself. there is almost a death rattle sounds that is intertwined with groaning singing or wailing. around the 10 min mark, i definitely started getting overwhelmed with all the sounds, and it was uncomfortable, but i suppose that is what the song wanted to do. it was a relief when the sounds dropped out, but i was totally caught off guard by the "boom" i guess you could call it, i didn't expect it at all.

Track 4: Vacillator

the drums are very welcome, and a great base for the rest of the track. the vocals are (of course) amazing, they're gentle, soft and sweet. it sounds like a "classic" love song at first, but listening to the lyrics it is pretty sexual, which is not surprising to me, but it is surprising to hear such (is vulgar the word?) vocals in such a sweet sounding song, but it's one of my favorite things that artists do. i honestly would love to dance to this song at my wedding (if i found someone as freaky as me), even though the lyrics are a little explicit, the song is so gorgeous overall.

Track 5: Onanist

the vhs tape whirring is a sound i always love that songwriters use, and the quality of the instrumentals sounds straight out of an old game, like im exploring an abandoned building or town. the vocals are almost sirenlike, pulling you in and layered in such a beautiful way. this song definitely feels like im getting lured in by something/someone, the vocals mixed with the harsher instrumentals that mix into it later in the song aid this feeling. another time where everything drops out, and is replaced with low droning and muttered words, "it feels good". this feels like a signature Ethel Cain track to me, and so far, is one of my favorites on the album.

Track 6: Pulldrone

the spoken words at the start of this song almost feel like they're being pulled out of someone, or it's something they've memorized or recited many times. the gong or bell or whatever that was, sent a tingle down my spine and through my eardrum. "i am what i am but we are not the same" future tattoo alert!!! constant shivers and chills throughout this one, the spoken word and the droning grating sound only getting louder feels like it's actually inside of my body. the droning going pretty much until the end of the song reminds me of track 1, leaving me to sit in silence and listen to what sounds like grating droning violins? yet again, one that makes me uncomfortable but one that is undeniably Ethel Cain.

Track 7: Etienne

this song absolutely sounds like a soundtrack for an old open world game or something, like i can imagine sitting in front of the tv and playing a game while this track is playing from the broken speakers of the tv. the peaceful music continues throughout the entire song. at the end of the song, it feels like im laying down on the carpet of my old living room and listening to an old record, it makes me painfully nostalgic.

Track 8: Thatorchia

starting out with a loud echoing noise was not how i predicted this to start after the last track was so chill, but it still keeps the same retro sort of vhs feeling that was very present in the previous track. the echoing vocals really make you strain to hear them over the harsh instrumentals, but to me, that only makes them more beautiful. the guitar is one of my favorite constant sounds in Hayden's discography, so i felt like a bit of a fangirl when it came in at the end. this song makes me feel like im running away into the woods to join a coven of witches.

Track 9: Amber Waves (my fav)

such beautiful guitar, the starting spoken word goes great with the mood the song has, sort of somber, slow but peaceful. the vocals come in yet again and im instantly transported to heaven. the harmony with herself sounds so so good, "days go by, time on without me/ill be alright" is so powerful and i feel like ive felt this way before, especially in depressive episodes, there's a lot of sadness, but eventually there's peace in that sadness, and it's beautiful. of course i think of "amber waves of grain" but also amber waves of hair, when looking at the title and lyrics of the song. it's a love letter to the empty country with nothing but fields of grain, but maybe also a love letter to a person, someone in the past where you can hardly remember anything about them, like looking in a foggy mirror, but you remember how you feel about them no matter how much time goes by. the guitar is so beautiful im not ashamed to say that i started crying and had to wash off my mascara.

in no way am i a professional music analyst or whatever, just talking about my feelings on my first listen. of course they'll change and grow over time but i wanted to document my first thoughts of an album ive been looking forward to since i knew of its existence. @mothercain thank you for all that you do and all that you are, and proving that it really is happening to everybody.

[prettyboykatsuki]

oh gosh i agree so much with u on the intercrural part for isagi, had to search for the meaning as well lol

there are also others like him who are very careful (and they also find it so hot and dirty) : karasu, kunigami, sae, and chigiri who at the same time does not want a child

that was so hot thinking abt it ngl pls indulge more on this even if it's just isagi thank you very much

as much as i want the others like nagi, shidou, rin, aiku, etc. to like this, i fear some of them would just simply prefer p in v after minutes of intercrural, cough, aiku , cough, and nagi who become very impatient (and shidou i think does not mind a child lol)

jfjfdsfsdfkjsd i did not know it was such an unknown word it is in tags a lot on ao3 but yes intercrural = thigh fucking

i think there are probably several bluelock men who find it hot for different reasons. the only people i would switch is oliver and sae on these lists jkfsdkj. disregarding the risk of pregnancy in general tho bc i <3 birth control and contraceptives etc

i think oliver is like. a certifiable, tried-and-true FREAK. like in the traditional sexual way, that guy is really loose with sex and he likes to get into some freaky shit. i always say this but he sluts around for the love of the game, so while he definitely wants to be putting his dick somewhere

he can and does get very into thigh fucking because of the like,, teasing element. him and isagi are kind of the same in the sense they both do it so hard and so long - you end up desperately begging them to just fuck you already because of how frustrating it is and just how much they seem to like it.

isagi fucks your thighs less intentionally. he's just trying to get as much sexual contact as he can after his dick feels like it's going to implode. its usually after foreplay - when he's used his mouth for long enough that your thighs and pussy are embarassingly soaked and it feels especially nice for him to fuck through them. does it while laying behind you, very intimate - but very, very intense because he's basically grinding against your pussy. squishing your thighs together so much that that it feels like he's fucking through them. head against your shoulder, panting - precum covering your legs like he's just into It.

but you really, desperately want him to fuck you and he just. keeps saying to give him a little longer.

oliver does this one purpose but he likes doing it from above so he can see his dick reach through the other side when he does it. and he probably does it after fingering you like he's going to fuck you but then not going quite there. he just kind of... holds you. presses against you like you're going to get fucked and then... doesnt it. and it does feel good because he's using that same brutal, rough pace he does when he fucks you. the longer he does it, the wetter and slicker it gets the better it feels. so then, he keeps doing it because it feels good. he thinks its cute also, watching you go back and forth before finally caving bc you want him to Fuck you.

i think sae in general prefers giving u the most stimulation as much as he can if he's gonna have sex. he can be teasing if he wants to be, but overall - he likes to sitmulate you again and again and again and mess with your head that way. but he does all that so ultimately you'll be so wet it feels like you don't resist his cock at all. doubly bc i think his dick is Big.

this is too long to be talking about thighfucking. but ye dsjsdjk

[obeymeshallwedateaddict]

Hello everyone!! This is the first lesson of the long awaited unofficial season 4 of Obey me Nightbringer written by yours truly <3

I will post lessons every 10 days.

I hope you enjoy it (it came out a little long but I hope it's not a problem)

Please make sure this finds other obey me lovers and people who don't want the series to end.

You can find more of my work here: Masterlist

@arie2faced wanted to be tagged so there you go!

Lesson 61: “Echoes of Change”

Preparations for the Grand Gala

The story begins with you and the brothers preparing for a grand event in the Devildom—the Infernal Gala, a highly anticipated celebration hosted by Diavolo to showcase unity and strength among the three realms. The brothers are busy with their individual tasks, and you help them throughout the day, making sure none of them are slacking off and checking the quality of their work.

Morning with Mammon

You find Mammon frantically trying to pick an outfit in his room, clothes scattered everywhere. He groans as he holds up a jacket, glaring at it like it personally offended him.

Mammon: “This stupid thing doesn’t fit right! What if I don’t look good enough? Diavolo’ll never let me hear the end of it!”

You: “You’re overthinking it, Mammon. You look great in anything.”

You pick up a sleek black jacket with gold trim from the pile and hold it up to him.

You: “Here, try this one. It suits you.”

Mammon grumbles but puts it on. When he turns to the mirror, his expression softens.

Mammon: “Huh. Guess it ain’t too bad… But y’know, it’s only ‘cause you picked it. You’ve got good taste.”

He pauses, scratching the back of his neck as he glances at you.

Mammon: “I dunno what I’d do without ya. Don’t tell the others, but… you’re my good luck charm, so stick close, alright?”

Afternoon with Leviathan

Levi is in his room, staring nervously at a stack of invitation cards. You peek in and see him pacing.

You: “Levi, what’s wrong?”

Leviathan: “It’s the Gala! There’s gonna be so many people there. What if I mess up? What if someone tries to talk to me and I freeze up?!”

You gently take his hands, grounding him.

You: “You’ll do great, Levi. And I’ll be there if you need me. We’re a team, remember?”

Levi calms down a little, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks.

Leviathan: “Y-Yeah, I guess you’re right. I mean, with you around, I don’t have to worry as much. You’re like my Player Two in this crazy multiplayer game called life.”

He hesitates, then smiles shyly.

Leviathan: “Thanks. I mean it. You’re, like… my favorite rare find.”

Library with Satan

Satan is in the library, scanning a shelf filled with ancient tomes. He looks up when you enter, a small smile playing on his lips.

Satan: “Perfect timing. I was looking for this.”

He hands you a book bound in emerald green, the title in golden script: "The Legends of the Infernal Gala."

Satan: “I thought you might like to know more about the Gala’s history. It’s fascinating, really—did you know it started as a peace treaty celebration?”

You sit together, flipping through the pages. At one point, your fingers brush, and Satan pauses.

Satan: “You always surprise me. You’re curious, thoughtful, and unafraid to stand by us—even when things get complicated.”

He leans closer, his voice softer.

Satan: “I hope you know how much that means to me."

Dressing Room with Asmodeus

Asmo is in his room, surrounded by a dizzying array of outfits. He twirls in front of the mirror, striking a pose.

Asmodeus: “Tell me, which one screams ‘absolutely irresistible’? This one, or…”

He switches to another outfit, beaming at you.

You: “They’re both amazing, Asmo. You always look stunning.”

Asmodeus: (grinning) “Oh, you always know just what to say. But you know what? I think I’ll wear something that complements you. After all, we’ll be the center of attention together.”

He steps closer, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

Asmodeus: “You have this way of making me feel… special. Like I don’t need to try so hard, because I’m enough just as I am. Thank you for that."

Kitchen with Beelzebub

Beel is in the kitchen, preparing snacks for the event. You help him arrange platters of food, the smell of freshly baked bread filling the air.

Beelzebub: “Thanks for helping. I usually just eat everything, but it feels nice to make something for others.”

As you finish, Beel offers you a piece of chocolate from the tray, his expression soft.

Beelzebub: “You’re always looking out for us. It makes me want to do the same for you.”

He smiles, his usual straightforward honesty shining through.

Beelzebub: “You’re like family to me… but also more than that. I’m glad you’re here.”

Attic with Belphegor

Belphie is lying on a pile of blankets in the attic, staring at the ceiling. You join him, and he shifts to make room.

Belphegor: “The Gala’s gonna be exhausting. Too many people, too much noise. But at least you’ll be there.”

He closes his eyes, his voice soft.

Belphegor: “You’re the only one who makes all this bearable, you know. Stay with me a while. Just you and me, away from everything else.”

You rest beside him, and for a moment, the world feels quiet.

Study with Lucifer

Lucifer is in his study, reviewing event schedules and security measures. He looks up as you enter, his expression softening.

Lucifer: “Ah, I was just going over the final details. It’s a relief to see you—you have a calming effect, even on someone like me.”

You share a quiet moment, the crackling of the fireplace filling the silence. Lucifer pours you a glass of Demonus, his movements elegant.

Lucifer: “The Infernal Gala represents unity, strength, and peace. But for me… it’s also a reminder of how far we’ve come.”

He gazes at you, his eyes filled with warmth.

Lucifer: “You’ve been a part of that journey. More than you realize.”

The calm shatteres

The next morning, you are in the gardens of the House of Lamentation, enjoying a rare moment of peace. The sky is a deep, rich purple, with faint stars twinkling above. Beelzebub joins you, carrying a tray of snacks.

Beelzebub: “You’ve been quiet today. Something on your mind?”

You: (smiling softly) “Not really. Just thinking about how calm everything feels right now. It’s… nice.”

Beelzebub: (sitting beside you) “Yeah. Feels like it’s been a while since things were this peaceful. Lucifer hasn’t yelled at anyone today, and Mammon hasn’t set anything on fire… yet.”

You both share a laugh, but before the moment can last, a faint tremor shakes the ground. Beel jumps to his feet.

Beelzebub: “What was that?”

A ripple of energy passes through the garden, and several flowers wilt instantly. The air feels charged, heavy. You feel a faint pulse from your pact mark, though you don’t fully understand it yet.

You and Beel rush inside the House of Lamentation, where chaos has already begun. Furniture is floating, magical items are malfunctioning, and the brothers are in disarray.

Mammon: (running around) “Somebody fix this! My wallet turned into a bat and flew off! That’s my life savings in there!”

Leviathan: (clutching his D.D.D.) “Do you know how many hours of gameplay I just lost?! This is worse than the Great Reset of Akuzon Prime!”

Lucifer: (trying to remain composed) “Everyone, calm down. Panicking will accomplish nothing.”

Belphegor: (yawning) “Wake me when this is over. Or don’t. I’m fine either way.”

You notice your pact mark faintly glowing whenever the chaos intensifies. Asmodeus steps in, looking alarmed.

Asmodeus: “Is it just me, or does the energy in the house feel… weird? It’s like something’s out of sync.”

Before anyone can respond, the chandelier shatters with a loud crash. Lucifer’s patience snaps.

Lucifer: “Enough! Everyone, to the Demon Lord’s Castle—now. Diavolo needs to hear about this immediately.”

Emergency Meeting with Diavolo

The group arrives at the Demon Lord’s Castle. Diavolo greets you all with a worried expression, his usual jovial demeanor replaced by a more serious air. Barbatos stands quietly by his side, his gaze sharp and observant.

Diavolo: “Ah, you’ve arrived. I trust you’ve noticed the disturbances, then?”

Lucifer: “Noticed is an understatement. The House of Lamentation is in complete disarray. What’s causing this?”

Diavolo’s expression tightens, and he motions for you all to take a seat.

Diavolo: “It’s more than just your house, Lucifer. The magical ley lines that run through the Devildom are experiencing unusual fluctuations. Spells are failing, spells are overloading… and the environment itself is becoming unstable.”

Diavolo remains silent for a short while before speaking again.

Diavolo: "Remember when a few months ago the Devildom moon begun moving closer to us? And how MC stopped it with the help of (name of the brother you chose in lesson 60)? I think it might be somehow related to all this.

Barbatos: (nodding gravely) “We’ve been monitoring the situation for the past few weeks, but the source remains elusive. The ley lines should remain stable, but we are seeing powerful surges in energy that we cannot explain.”

Simeon: (calmly interjecting) “It’s a troubling situation, indeed. I’ve been sensing something off as well, but I can’t make sense of it.”

Solomon: (looking up from his scrolls) “The balance between the realms is delicate. It’s entirely possible this disturbance has something to do with the convergence of magical energies—perhaps even beyond our realm’s control.”

Luke: (clutching his little angel staff nervously) “So... we’re all in danger?”

Mephistopheles: (snickering from the corner) “Well, that depends on what you call ‘danger.’ There’s always a way to spin these things to our favor, you know.”

Raphael: (stoically) “We need to investigate this matter thoroughly. If there’s a threat, we’ll need to handle it swiftly, for the sake of everyone’s safety.”

Thirteen: (suddenly appearing with a slight chuckle) “It’s always so serious when you guys talk like this. How about we enjoy the chaos a little bit?”

The group’s attention is drawn back to Diavolo, who remains focused despite the tension.

Diavolo: “We’ve heard your concerns. But I must ask, how does this all relate to the Infernal Gala? If these disturbances continue, it could be catastrophic.”

Lucifer: “The Gala is already under heavy scrutiny. If the realm’s stability is at risk, Diavolo, this could be a catastrophic blow to the reputation of the Devildom.”

Asmodeus: “Oh, I can’t imagine the disaster. The Gala’s atmosphere would be ruined if the magical energies continue to fluctuate like this. People will notice, and chaos would break out if they suspect anything is wrong.”

Beelzebub: (his voice low and serious) “If things continue like this, there’s a real danger of even the food and drinks being affected. Imagine the mess if everything starts malfunctioning at the event.”

Lucifer: “Exactly. And with all the high-profile guests we’re expecting… We must act swiftly.”

Diavolo stands up, his usual warmth replaced by a rare intensity.

Diavolo: “For now, I ask all of you to stay vigilant. If you notice anything unusual—anything at all—report it immediately. The Gala must go off without a hitch, for the sake of maintaining peace and stability. But we must also prepare for the possibility that something more sinister is at play.”

Barbatos: (calmly) “We will continue investigating, but please, if you feel anything strange—if there’s any oddity you experience—don’t hesitate to tell us. The more information we have, the better.”

Lucifer: (looking directly at you) “You, especially. I’m sure you’ve felt it, too. These disturbances seem… connected to you.”

The room falls silent again as all eyes shift toward you. You feel a weight settling on your shoulders, the pressure building.

Diavolo: (smiling reassuringly) “You’ve done well so far. But now, we must prepare for whatever comes next. The Gala is crucial, but our first priority must be understanding the root cause of these events. If there’s a connection between you and this instability… we’ll need to address it quickly.”

As you nod in response, a sense of foreboding fills the air. The once-bustling preparations for the Gala seem like a distant memory now, overshadowed by the uncertainty surrounding the disruptions.

A talk with Solomon

After the emergency meeting, you wander through the halls of the House of Lamentation, the weight of the situation pressing on you. The magical disturbances, the instability in the Devildom... you feel like you're on the edge of something bigger, but you can't quite grasp it.

A soft voice interrupts your thoughts.

Solomon: "You're still awake, huh? I figured you might be here."

You turn and see Solomon leaning against the doorframe, his usual playful expression replaced by one of concern. He steps into the hallway, his gaze never leaving you.

You: “I don’t understand any of this… It feels like everything’s connected, but I don’t know how or why.”

Solomon walks up to you, his footsteps slow and deliberate. He looks at you with a knowing look, as though he’s been waiting for this conversation.

Solomon: “I can see why you’re confused. The fluctuations... the disruptions in the ley lines, they’re not random. They’re a result of your presence here.”

You: (frowning) “My presence?”

Solomon: (nodding) “It’s complicated. There’s something about your connection to the brothers, your dual pacts, that’s causing the instability. It’s as if the power between you and them is... too much for the realms to handle.”

You feel a jolt of realization. The dual pacts. You hadn’t thought about the significance of them, but it makes sense now. Solomon's words seem to echo in your mind, each one a small revelation.

You: “So... you think the dual pacts are the reason this is happening?”

Solomon hesitates for a moment, then nods, his eyes serious.

Solomon: “I’m beginning to suspect that’s the case. The way your power interacts with theirs... it’s creating more energy than the ley lines can accommodate. It’s like a pressure building up, and when too much energy is focused in one place, the balance of the realms starts to break down.”

You swallow, trying to process it all. Your mind races through everything you’ve experienced—the strange pull of the pact mark, the disruptions, the growing tension. It all leads back to the pacts.

You: “But why now? Why is this only happening now?”

Solomon: (with a sigh) “It didn't start now. Actually it's been going on for a while now. Remember how the moon was getting progressively closer and closer a few months ago? I suspect that's also due to your magic. But for all I know the dual pacts were never meant to be this powerful. They’re an anomaly.”

You: “So, everything that’s happening... it’s my fault?”

Solomon: (softly) “Not your fault. But your presence, your bond with the brothers—it’s a key factor. I should’ve been more cautious. I knew the pacts were risky, but I didn’t expect something like this would happen.”

You feel your heart race as you try to understand the magnitude of what Solomon is telling you. The chaos, the disruptions... you feel like you’re at the center of it all, and it’s terrifying.

You: “How do we fix this?”

Solomon takes a step closer, his gaze softening. His hand gently rests on your shoulder, and you feel a comforting warmth from his touch.

Solomon: “We’ll figure it out. Together. The brothers... they’re linked to this too, and we’ll need their help. But we can’t do it alone. The dual pacts are too unpredictable.”

For a moment, you both stand in silence, the weight of his words settling in. The chaos, the stakes... it feels like everything is changing too fast. Yet, with Solomon’s presence, there’s a sense of calm. You find comfort in his understanding.

You: “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Solomon smiles, but there’s a warmth in his eyes that makes your heart flutter, though he doesn't say anything for a moment. He simply pulls you into a gentle embrace, holding you close, offering a silent promise.

Solomon: “You’ll never have to find out.”

You lean into his chest, the tension in your body slowly melting away. His heartbeat is steady against your ear, and for the briefest moment, the world outside feels a little more bearable.

Solomon: “We’ll fix this. We’ll make sure the Gala goes off without a hitch, and we’ll find the cause of all this. But until then... just know that I’m here.”

You look up at him, your voice quiet but firm.

You: “Thank you, Solomon. I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel like I’m... not alone in this anymore.”

Solomon’s smile deepens, and he leans in, brushing a soft kiss against your forehead.

Solomon: “You’re never alone, MC. Not with me by your side.”

The Pact’s Secret Emerges

Later that evening, while the brothers are asleep, you are drawn to the library by an inexplicable force. You find an old book glowing faintly on the shelf and open it. The pages are filled with ancient symbols you can’t understand. Suddenly, a familiar voice interrupts you.

Barbatos: (appearing silently behind you) “Curious, isn’t it? That book is one of the oldest records in the castle. It documents the nature of pacts and their potential… consequences.”

You jump in surprise, quickly closing the book.

You: “Barbatos! You scared me. I didn’t mean to—”

Barbatos: (smiling slightly) “You needn’t apologize. It’s no coincidence that you were drawn to this book.”

Barbatos steps closer, his gaze calm but piercing.

Barbatos: “Tell me, since your return from the past, have you noticed anything… unusual? A change in your magic, perhaps? Or a resonance with the brothers’ powers?”

You stiffen.

You: “What do you mean by ‘return from the past’? How do you know about that?”

Barbatos: (tilting his head slightly) “I am the steward of time. There are few events that escape my notice.”

Your eyes widen. You clutch the book tightly, unsure of how to respond.

You: “I… I haven’t told anyone except Solomon. How much do you know?”

Barbatos: “Enough to understand that your journey was no mere coincidence. It was necessary, though its ripple effects are only now beginning to manifest.”

You: “Ripple effects…? Are you saying all of this—the disturbances in the Devildom—are my fault?”

Barbatos: (softly) “Fault is a strong word. Responsibility, perhaps. But do not misunderstand—your presence here is essential. You hold the key to stabilizing the realm.”

Barbatos’ gaze sharpens as he steps closer, his voice lowering to a near whisper.

Barbatos: “However, I must warn you: secrets have a way of surfacing when the time is right. The truth will not remain hidden forever—not from the brothers, nor from yourself.”

He gestures toward the glowing book.

Barbatos: “Keep this between us for now. But be vigilant. The bonds you share with the brothers are deeper and more intricate than even you realize.”

After the encounter, Barbatos is in his room, standing over a magical map of the Devildom. Glowing lines represent the ley lines, which are flickering and unstable. He traces his fingers over the map, frowning as he notices a disturbing pattern.

Barbatos: (to himself) “The fluctuations are growing stronger, converging toward a single point. If this trajectory continues…”

He pauses, his expression darkening.

Barbatos: “…even the combined power of the brothers may not be enough to stop what’s coming.”

The map reveals the convergence point glowing ominously—a location deep within the Devildom that remains unidentified.

[secretly-a-polar-bear]

Random headcanons about yuu/mc mostly

I like to think that mc’s stuff just started to appear in like the attic of ramshackle, like hey that’s my plushie.

I also like to think that mc’s family just starts to appear in twisted wonderland. Maybe a sibling or like a parent.

Actually I just like the concept that mc’s world is being destroyed and that happens via displacing the people and objects to other dimensions.

I think mc hates being called shrimpy. Like of course they’re not gonna say anything about it, because Floyd won’t care. But I do think it comes in the form of mc thinking about how at least the other nicknames are cooler than shrimpy, and this always happens when someone complains about Floyd’s nicknames. Like “oh at least you’re not being called shrimpy. You get something adorable but noooo, I get shrimpy. I would prefer to be called tuna or whatever generic fish exists.”

I think grim started sleeping in mc’s bed far more often when the whole idia situation happened. Like there’s evidence to suggest that grim has his own bed, because mc trips on grim one night. But the whole being trapped situation definitely made him appreciate mc more.

The ghosts have their own rooms, also there’s more than just the 3 we usually see but they’re usually sleeping their afterlife away. Or they could just be working at the school and they just tend to stay in the school instead of their designated area.

It’d be kinda interesting if the ghosts were actually ghosts since birth and they stuck around nightraven because ghosts have better job opportunities there then anywhere else.

Sam doesn’t actually work for nightraven, there was just an empty building on campus and Sam just moved in like a hobo with a business plan. And Crowley has tried to remove him but then Sam offered a portion of his earnings to Crowley. It did however take him a while to learn about Sam’s business. He only figured it out when the staff members were talking about heading over there to grab supplies. The staff was confused about how Crowley didn’t know about the shop.

Ramshackle has a garden. Mostly the cooking ghosts will use it for food but mc is allowed to take some if they help out with the gardening.

Ghosts have whole families, like not just parents and siblings but like wife and kids too.

Occasionally whenever Crowley tries to shutdown the clubs with one member, mal and jade (mostly jade because we have seen other characters take an interest the gargoyle club) will say how they have one person that’s interested, and when asked who they say mc.

Grim is banned from the board game club.

Mc and grim have tried all the clubs at least once.

[iamnmbr3]

ok unpopular opinion time. hermione was more into quidditch than ginny. i know what you're going to say. but hear me out.

there's no denying that hermione doesn't care about quidditch as much as harry or ron do. BUT she does get invested. sometimes more than she wants to admit. she comes to every quidditch game and to many of the team's practices, just as ron does (even when he's not on the team). she sometimes forgets to be reserved and gets genuinely excited about winning. especially when the rivalry between the houses is high. like after she hits malfoy in book 3 and tells harry he better beat him in quidditch etc.

and yeah she doesn't really care about krum's fame the way some people do, but she's nonetheless impressed by his flying in book 4 and what it says about his character. (also if you ship harmione you could totally read this as her having a type).

ginny, by contrast, doesn't participate in the quidditch talk at all in book 4. and her only real reaction to the game is the moment where she is very concerned and upset by apparently seeing a player injured (and doesn't seem to know enough about the game to realize it is a relatively common and not very serious type of accident - as Charlie is immediately able to see).

it really feels like her getting interested in quidditch later was an attempt to get closer to harry and become his "perfect girl" and get to spend time with him. (joke's on her because harry's reaction to her being on the team in book 6 is to...not really notice and 'never have been less interested in quidditch' because draco isn't there, and apparently having a perfect excuse to spend time with his alleged crush isn't enough to keep him engaged.)

jkr is weirdly sexist and so ginny being into sports makes here '#NotLikeOtherGirls' and thus superior. it's supposed to show how ginny's superior to hermione and harry's perfect girl TM or whatever. but... it doesn't really fit with canon. ginny's character thru book 5 was fine as it was. out of universe jkr didn't need to totally retcon it. and in universe ginny shouldn't have felt that she needed to turn herself into another person to get harry to like her. that isn't healthy or sustainable.

[defectivevillain]

the games we play

pairing: Gi-hun/Young-il/Reader

the reader's race & gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.

summary: “And surely you’ve seen the way Young-il looks at you,” you press on, motivated by Gi-hun’s silence. “Like he wants to pick you apart, break you into pieces, and then put you back together again.” Gi-hun is quiet for several moments. “I… haven’t noticed that,” he eventually admits. He pauses for a moment, evidently thinking. “I’ve seen Young-il look at you like that.” Something unpleasant jumps in your chest. “Then we’re both in trouble,” you huff, rubbing a hand over your eyes.

Gi-hun and you attempt to navigate the 33rd Squid Game, under the watchful eye of the enigmatic Oh Young-il.

word count: 10.3k | ao3 version | fic playlist

warnings: spoilers to Squid Game season 2; canon-typical blood, violence, and death.

author's notes: This is Gi-hun/Reader/In-ho (Young-il) centric. Leaning heavily on Gi-hun/Reader, with subtle In-ho moments. The reader is written to have incurred debt from their undergraduate studies in America.

This fic does not have a happy ending. Also, it’s canon non-compliant/divergent.

I made a playlist for this fic too. Feel free to listen, if that’s your vibe :3

Thank you to @connorhasabigtip for beta reading this & watching the first four eps with me! love you bitch. and jun-ho is in love with you. so I guess that makes us related fr now.

You first meet Seong Gi-hun in a sandy arena, under the watchful eyes of a killer doll figurine as you play Red Light, Green Light. At the time, you only know him as Player 456—the strangely vocal man who insists that the game comes with the risk of imminent death. You’re not quite sure why you decide to believe him. Maybe it’s because you have no other choice; or maybe it’s just because there’s less risk. Either way, you choose to follow his advice. You end up near the front of the group of players scattered across the field, which means you are forced to remain frozen as you hear gunshot after gunshot. There are people screaming and attempting to escape, but you know it’s no use. They are all shot down, until the doll finally seems to have enough and turns its back on the field once more. 

You take the proffered opportunity to continue running down the field, until it begins to turn around again and you’re forced to freeze. 456 and you are the frontrunners, with 456 focused on helping everyone. He’s calm and collected under pressure—keeping his mouth hidden behind his elbow as he shouts out orders. 

Thanks to his help, the majority of the remaining players survive. And while most of them appear to scorn him for his relentless optimism, you can’t help but feel grateful that he warned everyone. You steal glances at him from across the dorm before gathering the courage to walk up to him and introduce yourself, dipping your head in a mock bow. He returns the gesture, introducing himself as Seong Gi-hun. You talk for a while, before finally relenting and asking him if he’s played these games before. The troubled expression that passes over his face is the only answer you need, but he confirms it verbally anyways. He won the game a few years ago. As for why he came back… he hopes to stop the games once and for all. 

“You’ll need some help then.” You remark, sounding far more confident than you feel at the present moment. “I can join you.” You offer. 

He looks askance. “It’ll be dangerous.” Gi-hun warns you. 

“Everything about these games is dangerous.” You point out. It’s true. If you’re going to die, you’d rather die fighting for something—instead of solely being a victim to these fucked up games. 

“True.” He acquiesces, before sliding over and giving you enough room to sit next to him. You take the proffered space and rest your forearms on your knees, clasping your hands and staring at the players across the dorm. 

“You may want to keep it a secret,” you say after a few moments, tapping your fingers restlessly. “That you’ve played these games before, I mean.” You clarify after seeing his confusion. 

“Why?” Gi-Hun frowns. You’re not surprised by his reaction—while you don’t know Gi-hun very well, it’s clear he has a good heart. He sees the best in people. And while that’s normally an admirable quality, it doesn’t quite help him here. 

“If you warn everyone about the second game now, and then it turns out you’re wrong…” You continue. You’ve been thinking about his show of resistance during the first game, and you suspect whoever is running the game will do whatever it takes to ensure he doesn’t do the same thing again. “You’ll be a pariah. No one will trust you. And that’s exactly what they want. They’re betting on the fact that you’ll tell everyone about the second game. They’ve probably changed it so you’ll lose credibility.” You finally seem to get through to Gi-hun with that remark, as he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“That’s… a fair point.” He eventually agrees. It seems he hadn’t thought of it. He pinches the bridge of his nose. 

Feeling eyes on your back, you turn around to find a player staring at Gi-hun and you. Your skin burns under his intense gaze, and he shows no embarrassment at the prospect of being caught staring. Instead, he only blinks. You stare at him for a moment, before eventually convincing yourself to turn away. Your skin crawls for the rest of the day, even as you get into bed and try to get some sleep. 

The second game takes place early the next morning, after the majority of players vote to continue the game. You’re once again led through those winding pastel halls and stairs, only to find yourself in an arena reminiscent of a playground. You look over at Gi-hun, who looks a bit troubled by what he sees. Evidently, it’s a bit different from what he saw in the second round of his previous game. 

Once the surviving players are gathered in the space, an announcement confirms that the next game will be a six-legged race. Gi-hun shoots you a relieved look and you remember what he told you after your conversation the previous day. The second round last time was dalgona. It appears the game masters changed the game, just as you predicted. Gi-hun is still looking at you with gratitude and it makes you feel a bit uneasy, knowing the feeling is wasted on you. The announcer’s voice breaks through the static in your mind, directing players to gather in groups of five. 

“I’m with you.” You say after a moment, looking at Gi-hun. It’s meant to be a question, but it comes out more confident and assertive. Internally, you’re a bti more unsure. Sure, you spoke with Gi-hun a lot yesterday, but that doesn’t mean he sees you as an ally yet. 

Thankfully, Gi-hun doesn’t object. “Of course.” He nods. You feel a slight smile slip onto your face, relieved that you won’t have to look around for a group. With the addition of Player 388, your group now has three members. You only need two more for the game. 

“May I join your group?” You blink to find Player 001 standing in front of you. He was the one staring at you two last night. The man looks between Gi-hun and you. You don’t trust yourself to speak, instead letting Gi-hun and 388 decide. 

“Sure.” Gi-hun agrees. You’re secretly a bit suspicious, but you let it go. 

With the addition of a young girl, your group is complete with five members. Since the game is a six-legged pentathlon, there will be five games interspersed along the track. Your group decides on the following pairings: Player 222 and Ddakji; Gi-Hun and Jegi; 001 and spinning top; 388 and Gonggi; & you and flying stones. 

As you’re watching the first group stumble through the obstacles, you feel a sudden presence behind you. “A miss in Flying Stone will eat up a lot of time,” 001 says. And wow, this guy needs to learn about personal space. You swear his breath is hitting your neck as he hovers over your shoulder. You instinctively flinch and turn around, comprehending his remark.

“Shut up,” you then respond, your nerves high enough without this guy’s comments. “Stop with your mind games. We’re on the same team, in case you didn’t realize.” You snap before you can stop yourself. You immediately turn back around to watch the team playing; and in your eagerness to look away, you miss the slight quirk of the man’s lips. 

The first two groups die. The gunshots still ring in your ears, even after the guards remove their corpses and the game continues. There are growing puddles on the ground, marring the childish appearance of the arena. 

Desperate for a way to distract yourself, you turn to 001 again. “Who are you, anyway?” You soon ask, unable to hide your curiosity. He just blinks at you, that infuriatingly blank expression on his face. He almost seems like an android, with how little emotion he shows. “I didn’t see you here for the first round.” You frown. And sure, the first round had hundreds of people. But you think you’d remember a guy like him. He’s… Well. You hate to admit it, but he’s very conventionally attractive. And his stare is eerie. If you had seen him, you would’ve remembered.

Gi-hun overhears and freezes, looking at you before following your gaze to stare at 001. He seems curious. “And you knew my name, when I never told it to you.” Gi-hun continues. 

Your eyes widen. You’re about to press the guy for more information when the buzzer rings, summoning your group to the starting line. That was suspiciously good timing. But it doesn’t matter—you can worry about 001’s origins later. Right now, you have a game to win. 

Fortunately, your group makes it out alive. The group you share the arena with isn’t so lucky, and the sound of gunshots echoes in your ears long after you head back to the dorms. All of you are dejected as you see how many people died last round. You feel particularly worried for 222, who had revealed herself to be pregnant. Just how in the hell is she getting through this? She must be in immense pain. 

When you’re given your rations for the day, you give her your bread. 001 gives her his milk, and before long, each member of the group has sacrificed something to ensure her wellbeing. You can’t help but feel sickened at the thought of her presence here—she’s so young, and she’s carrying a baby while fighting for her life to survive. You don’t necessarily pity her, since she’s proven she’s very capable and athletic. Still… You resent the circumstances that brought players like her here. 

You think back to the game you just played. Everyone did very well and succeeded on the first try, except for 001—who took several tries to successfully wind and throw the spinning top. It’s ironic, considering he was trying to warn you all earlier and put more pressure on you. All of that talk… just for him to buckle under the pressure. It almost makes you want to laugh. If the rest of you hadn’t done so well, he could’ve gotten you killed. 

A sharp bolt of anger rushes through you. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten our conversation,” you say to the guy, the words slipping from your lips before you can stop them. 001 blinks at you innocently. The gesture just irritates you even more. “Who are you? How much debt do you have? What’s your job?”

“I think you can stop interrogating him,” 388 interjects, clearly sensing the tension settling across the group. You grit your teeth. 

“No; he’s suspicious,” you argue persistently, your spine tingling uneasily as you’re met with 001’s blank stare. “He beat the shit out of those two guys and pretended like it was nothing.” Indeed, when two contestants had been messing with a third guy, 001 had promptly walked up to them and overpowered them with ease. “He knew Gi-hun’s name when he never told him, and he was playing mind games all through the last round.” You finish scrutinizing him. The guy stares right back, seemingly unaffected by your skepticism.

“Hey, enough of that,” 388 remarks placatingly. You bite your tongue and allow him to keep speaking, if only because you’re so frustrated you can hardly think. Your fists are clenched at your sides. 001 is still staring, and he’s likely getting enjoyment from your irritation. “We should be celebrating our victory! And if you’ll excuse me…” He gets to his feet and stares at the group. “I don’t know your names yet. Mine’s Kang Dae-ho. It means ‘big tiger’.”

All of you proceed to introduce yourselves, before it gets to 001. Supposedly, his name is Oh Young-Il. “It’ll be easy to remember, because it corresponds to my number.” He remarks. This guy is only getting more and more suspicious with each thing he says. There’s no way in hell that’s his real name. And he seems to recognize you don’t believe him, because he’s staring at you again. 

The group is a bit more withdrawn today, after the events of the previous game. As your adrenaline dies down, you realize you’re quite tired. The others seem to feel the same; yet the day passes with infinite lethargy. It feels like a whole lifetime until the lights-out announcement. Upon hearing the announcement, Gi-hun guides the group through building a kind of fort and assigning members for guard duty. Supposedly, people can get violent at night—and kill one another just for the promise of more prize money. You’re not exactly surprised by that, so you go along with his orders. Gi-hun offers to take the first shift—leaving the rest of you to sleep peacefully (or, at least, as peacefully as a person can sleep in a place like this).

When you wake for the next shift a few hours later, you find Gi-hun still awake—staring off into the distance with a frown on his face. You sidle up next to him and the two of you sit in silence for a while. It’s not necessarily an uncomfortable silence. The two of you are both deep in thought, as you evidently reflect on the horrors you’ve witnessed. 

“...I don’t trust Young-il.” You admit quietly. There’s a persistent but quiet hum in the air, the only companion to the silence. 

“Why not?” Gi-hun asks. He doesn’t look suspicious, but he doesn’t exactly look believing either. He always believes the best in people, though. And his desire to stop the games has kept him too busy to notice the way 001 is acting. 

“He’s… slippery,” you settle for saying after a few moments. “He messes with people just to see their reactions. Plus, did you see him in the first game? Because I swear I didn’t see him, and then suddenly, when it was time to vote, he just… appeared.” 

“I mean, isn’t that strange?” You continue, unable to stop talking now that you’ve finally spoken your mind. “Especially when his vote was the one that ushered in the second game. It’s just… I don’t know, it’s really fishy.”

Gi-hun hasn’t spoken a word, instead looking ahead in sincere contemplation. “And surely you’ve seen the way he looks at you,” you press on, motivated by Gi-hun’s silence. “Like he wants to pick you apart, break you into pieces, and then put you back together again.”

Gi-hun is quiet for several moments. “I… haven’t noticed that,” he eventually admits, fully turning to look at you. He pauses for a moment, evidently thinking. His eyes are searching your face for something—but it’s a different kind of scrutiny than Young-il’s covert malice. “But I’ve seen him look at you like that.” Gi-hun says quietly. 

Something unpleasant jumps in your chest. “Then we’re both in trouble,” you huff, rubbing a hand over your eyes. 

(And little do you both know, Young-il has been lying awake the entire time, digesting every word of your conversation.)

“You should rest, Gi-hun,” you suggest. “I’ll take over from here.” It takes some argument, but you manage to persuade Gi-hun to sleep. You spend the rest of your guard shift staring ahead and fighting off sleep. Your eyes are dry and you’re beginning to get a headache, but you’re happy to keep watch if it ensures the safety of your group members. 

You must zone out for quite a while, because there’s soon a hand on your shoulder. You flinch and blink dazedly, only to find Young-il staring at you imploringly. “It’s my turn to keep watch. You should rest.” He suggests. His hand hasn’t moved from your shoulder. Gi-hun’s words echo in your ears: I’ve seen him look at you like that. Young-il’s dark eyes are glittering. You’re immediately assaulted with one unshakeable conviction: he wants to rip you apart and eat you alive. 

You’re not sure how long you remain there, pliant under the man’s grasp, before you shake yourself out of it. All you know is the faux concern knitting his brows together, and the lingering hand on your shoulder that only slips away after you’re out of reach.

…You don’t sleep very well. 

The third game, Mingle, is quickly proving to be the worst one so far. It should be simple: the carousel spins, before stopping and announcing a number. Players standing on it must assemble a group of that number and gather in one of the nearby rooms before the time expires. Elementary. 

Except… it’s utter mayhem when the numbers are announced. The lights go out, the countdown is ever present in a loud chirping tone, and it’s loud. 255 people is far too many for the enclosed space you find yourself in. And while your impromptu group develops a hesitant strategy, there’s no telling what number will come next. Hell, at this point, they could announce “1” and eliminate three-quarters of the players. You hope it doesn’t come to that. 

As the rounds continue, you grow more and more restless. There’s a horrible pit in your stomach as you return to the spinning stage each time, stepping over corpses and puddles of blood. You almost feel as if you’re stuck in some strange sort of limbo, cursed to continue this stupid game over and over again. To make matters worse, there are slits in each of the doors that conceal the rooms—giving you a front row seat to the brutality of the guards. 

Finally, after what feels like far too long, you’re at the last round. You swallow hard, fighting off the dizziness and vertigo that the spinning stage is inciting in you. Jun-hee, Dae-ho, Young-il, and Gi-hun have all survived thus far, thankfully. You all had to split up a few times when the numbers were smaller, but you survived nonetheless.  

“What do you think the last number will be?” Gi-hun asks the group. 

You contemplate the question. Before you can respond, Young-il speaks. “Two.” he answers with frightening certainty. You pay him a wary glance, only to find that there is no trace of hesitation in his expression. Everything he does only makes you more unnerved. He must be doing it on purpose, at this point. 

You look at Gi-hun wordlessly. But just as you’re about to ask him to be your partner, the lights are going out and the number is appearing on the screen above. Indeed, as Young-il predicted, the last round requires a pair to enter a room.  

You barely get a moment to think before Young-il latches his hand onto your wrist, yanking you after him and leaving you no choice but to follow. You spare a glance behind you at Gi-hun, relieved to see he’s running to a room with Dae-ho. Your attention is quickly recaptured by the people you’re running near, and you have to push past them to get into the nearest room. With Young-il’s help, you manage to get inside and slam the door behind you. 

You’re about to breathe a sigh of relief when you lock eyes with another guy. It’s a third player, who was inexplicably standing in the room. Everything falls to an eerie silence as you come to terms with the situation. The timer is quickly counting down. He needs to leave for Young-il and you to fit the requirements. If you have too many people, you’ll fail and die. But the clock is already counting down, and the door locked behind you, and there’s just no time, not enough time- 

You feel yourself slide down the wall and onto the ground, shakily covering your head in your hands as if that will do anything to stop the oncoming onslaught of bullets from the guards. You can only hear the sound of your own ragged breathing reverberating through your ears, as you try and fail to keep it together. 

The sound of shuffling breaks you from your thoughts; you look up to find Young-il with his arms wrapped around the guy’s neck as he chokes the life out of him. The guy’s face is turning red from the strength of his grip, as he scrambles to get some air. His eyes meet yours and you just… stare. 

Three… Two… One.

The other player slumps on the ground. 

A few seconds pass. There’s nothing but silence. It seems the guy died just before the countdown ended—bringing the number of players back down to two and ensuring your victory in the game. 

Your eyes are locked on the other player’s corpse. Then, as if against their own volition, your eyes find Young-il’s, and every one of your prior suspicions is confirmed. 

…You’re frozen. 

He gets to his feet, pushing the corpse away as if it’s nothing more than an obstacle. The casual nature of the gesture makes you feel sick. Then Young-il politely offers you a hand, as if you had merely stumbled on the ground. As if he hadn’t just killed someone right in front of you. 

You’re frozen. You think there’s blood spattered across your face from one of the previous rounds. You can’t speak, can hardly breathe.

Unperturbed, Young-il crouches down before you. He takes your forearms and deftly tugs you up to your feet. 

You’re 

still

frozen. 

He’s guiding you out of the room now, his grip on your shoulder tight and loose all at once. The door slides open with a menacing sound. The other players are leaving their rooms. You want to search the crowd, but the contestants’ faces are all blurring together. There’s a helpless sound trapped in your throat. 

“Oh, thank God, you guys-” A familiar voice says. Gi-hun is running towards you. You want to be touched by the sheer relief in his voice, but you’re too busy trying not to pass out, or punch something, or just sob. You wrap your arms around yourself and try not to think about the blood flooding the floor, the ringing in your ears, the maleficence of the man at your side. Gi-hun claps a hand on your shoulder, his expression morphing into a concern you don’t deserve. “What happened?”

You can hardly breathe. Gi-hun’s looking at you expectantly and it takes all your effort not to just break down right there. You look at the ground, see the bloodstains, look back up. The doors on the far side of the space are opening, marking the end of the round. There’s a swarm of teal as players make their way back to the dorms. 

You think you’d stand there forever, if not for Gi-hun’s guidance. He pulls you after him gently. You follow. You feel Young-il’s gaze burning into the back of your head. Your tongue is locked to the roof of your mouth. You think you’re shaking, but it’s hard to think straight over the roaring sound in your ears.

Oh Young-il. 001. 

The inexplicable combat skills. The ease with which he killed the other player. That eerie look on his face, as if he’s viewing the game through the eyes of an observer. The gleam in his eyes as he stares at Gi-hun, you, and tests your resolve. This game, these players… they’re all an experiment to him. And he is the mad scientist engineering the entire thing. 

You’re fucked.  

You don’t remember much of what happens after that. The survivors make their way through the winding pastel corridor once more. You nearly trip on the steps several times, just barely catching yourself each time. Your ears are ringing. Even Jun-hee seems worried for you, and she’s carrying a baby.  

To make things worse, you keep hearing people calling your name. At first, you think you’re just imagining it. But you hear it again and again; and when you turn around, you hear the crazy shaman lady beckoning you closer. She’s slipping through the line and walking towards you now, crooning about fate and destiny and your imminent death. You don’t know what to say, can’t seem to summon that fire that has kept you safe, skeptical, this entire time. Before you can respond, Gi-hun’s leading you away from her with an arm around your shoulders. You can just vaguely hear Young-il speaking with Dae-ho and Jun-hee behind you, likely providing a sugar-coated lie for your state right now. You want to vomit. 

You blink and you’re on one of the bunks. Gi-hun’s saying something, looking at you worriedly, but his voice sounds garbled and warped like he’s underwater. You blink, blink, blink. Your hands are trembling still. You can’t rid yourself of the memory: of that player, in his dying moments, looking to you for help. You could’ve done something, should’ve done something. 

But what could you have done? If you had stopped Young-il, all three of you would’ve died anyway for having an incorrect number of people. Right? Young-il only did what was necessary to ensure your survival. Should you be grateful to him? 

No. You don’t want to feel thankful for a person who snuffed out the life of another before your very eyes. You don’t want to feel any positive emotion in this place. It’s all a lie. Everything is just… a feeble exercise to fight off despair. But it always comes back. Always. 

You hide your head in your knees, trying to gather the shattered pieces of your composure. You want to hate yourself for this—for the way you just shut down—but, at the same time, it only seems rational. Young-il is one of the game masters. You’re not sure just what his role is, but it must be something important—for him to be able to slip into the players’ ranks with ease. And you just saw him kill a contestant before your very eyes. What’s stopping him from doing the same thing to you, or Gi-hun, or Jun-hee, or Dae-ho? He could’ve easily strangled you in that tiny room. What prevented him from doing so? What guided his arm to wrap around the other player’s neck, instead of your own?

Moreover, if Young-il really is a part of executing these games… Who’s to say he doesn’t have advanced knowledge of the rounds to come? That only increases the despair you feel. What’s the point of fighting, if the game is rigged? If Young-il has adjusted the odds to his favor? Your head aches as you attempt to rationalize it all. Nothing about it makes sense.

…But you can’t let 001 win. You can’t let him break your resolve. That’s what Young-il’s here to do: he wants to stop Gi-hun’s insurgence—and, by extension, yours.

You run through your thoughts for a while, attempting to string together the tangled mess of information you’ve learned and witnessed. “Gi-hun.” You eventually say. Your voice is raspy, somehow. You haven’t spoken in a few hours now. Everyone in the group looks over at you. Your voice sounds like a stranger’s. “I need to speak with you. Alone.” You get to your feet and make your way to the ground, before shoving your hands in your pockets as you wait for him. Gi-hun stands up. 

Gi-hun is at your side as you walk, looking at you. “Let’s go to the bathroom.” You suggest as you walk away. He nods at your suggestion and the two of you head into the giant restroom. It’s not the ideal place for a conversation, but here, none of the other players will eavesdrop. There are cameras, but you doubt they have audio. 

You stand in the center of the empty bathroom for a long moment. Gi-hun seems to take the initiative, leading you into one of the stalls. The space seems far too small, with the two of you practically pressed together as you evade the cameras. The edges of your dirtied white shoes nearly touch. 

If Gi-hun is uncomfortable with the proximity, he doesn’t show it. After all, you both have far bigger problems. “What happened?” He asks you carefully. There are muted pink stains on his shirt—blood from the past games. You’re sure your clothing looks much the same. 

“I-” You choke out. This is much harder than you expected. Your sentences are choppy and fragmented as you continue speaking. “You remember our conversation last night?” It almost hurts to speak. 

“Yes.” He confirms, likely recalling your suspicions about Young-il. At this point, you almost wish you were wrong—that 001 was merely another player, just like the rest of you. But you know that contradicts the facts. 

“Young-il’s working for them.” You manage to say. 

Gi-hun is silent as he processes what you’ve just said. 

“He killed a man in front of me,” you say, your voice shaking. “When we were in the- the room. There were three of us. And I thought I was going to die-” You’re fighting for air again, your words interrupted with involuntary shudders. 

You look down at your feet to hide the tears you’re fighting off. But Gi-hun only leans forward and pulls you into an embrace. You can’t help but clutch at him like a lifeline. 

“He put the guy in a chokehold and killed him.” You manage to say, once you’ve calmed down a little.  “Gi-hun, the look on his face-” You choke off, shaking your head. His hold on you just tightens, as if reassuring you of his presence. You feel so weak for allowing yourself this moment, so vulnerable and desperate as you fall apart in the arms of the man who has lost so much more than you can possibly fathom. 

“Any attempt we make at stopping the games, he’ll be there listening.” You state, trying to take a breath and gather your thoughts once more. You could easily spend the rest of the night falling apart, but you know it won’t get you anywhere.  

Gi-hun swallows, bringing a hand across his chin as he evidently attempts to puzzle out what your next move should be. “That’s a problem.” He eventually says. You nod. 

“I think Young-il joined to mess with you.” You confess. “And if that’s the case, he must be more than a mere guard. The guards don’t have that kind of power. He’d have to be pretty high up in the hierarchy.”

“No wonder you were despondent earlier.” Gi-hun sighs. He laughs, a gesture completely devoid of any positive emotion. He rubs a hand over his face. “I had a plan—take the guards’ guns from them, get to the control room and demand answers.”

You just shake your head. You both know an exercise like that would be futile, and result in countless unintentional casualties. 

“It’s probably him.” Gi-hun continues. “He’s been right in front of us the whole time.” Us. Not me, but us. You feel momentarily touched by the remark, before you see the distressed look on his face. You can’t imagine what Gi-hun’s thinking right now, as he attempts to find a way to end this game system. System, because these games are far more than isolated events. A group—hell, an organization—with this kind of resources wouldn’t just give up after one game. It’s a constant cycle of despair and greed. 

Is there even a way to break the cycle? Gi-hun is only a single player. Dismantling an entire system—and, moreover, the predatory tactics it uses to ensnare people—is an impossible task. And you both know it. These games rely on the corruption in the outside world… and that can’t be wished away by an uprising here. People will always be greedy. People will always fight for their lives. And people will always resent being controlled. You shake your head. 

There’s a harsh banging on the door of the restroom; the two of you flinch, hearing a guard summoning you back to the dorms. You exchange worried looks before complying with his orders, stepping out of the bathroom and heading back to the group. 

“What took you guys so long?” Another player asks when you get back. He’s been sitting on the outskirts of your impromptu group since you got back from the game. “Don’t tell me you hooked up in there; that’s where we all go to piss.”

You stare at him in disbelief. Gi-hun must be wearing a similar expression, because he’s also silent. 

“What?” He asks, looking to the others for support. “Come on, it’s not that crazy of an assumption to make.”

Jun-hee looks like she’s fighting off the urge to smile in amusement; Dae-ho is laughing; and Young-il is silent as always. You could convince yourself there’s an extra tension to the set of his shoulders, but you won’t. 

Dae-ho continues attempting to keep the group’s morale up, but you can’t seem to move past your conversation with Gi-hun—and neither can he. When the countdown to lights out begins, the two of you are volunteering for guard duty. 

You want nothing more than to go to sleep, but your mind won’t let you. You’re stuck sitting in silence, fighting off stinging eyelids and persistent fatigue. 

Eventually, you lose the battle to exhaustion; and you wake some time later to feel a slightly stiff neck and hear an amused exhale of breath. Your awareness comes back slowly, as you exit your dreams and return to the nightmare of your waking life. The dorms slowly sharpen before your eyes and you blink blearily, wondering why your side feels so warm. It doesn’t take you long to connect the dots on that particular puzzle—as you look over to find yourself nearly nestled into Gi-hun’s side, your head resting on his shoulder. 

“Sorry,” you say quickly, straightening up and sliding away a little. It takes a concerted effort to ignore the heat racing across your skin. 

Gi-hun doesn’t look particularly bothered, instead blinking. “You needed the rest.” He says, considerate as always.

“And you didn’t?” You ask with a raised brow. 

Gi-hun’s about to respond when you both hear rustling. Dae-ho’s sudden presence behind you makes your heart jump. 

“You should rest.” Dae-ho suggests, crouching behind you both. “Both of you. It’s my turn anyways.”

Neither of you can come up with a good argument, so you go back to your respective beds and fall asleep. 

The next night isn’t a very restful night either. The fourth game takes the lives of far too many players. Dae-ho, Jun-hee, and countless other contestants died. The majority of the beds in the dorms are empty now. Many players appear dejected and overwhelmed with the situation. Yet, the majority still consistently votes to continue the game. You are well and truly trapped here.

You reconvene with Gi-hun after the game and quickly decide that you should attempt getting some more information from Young-il. Gi-hun is quick to volunteer you for the task, citing his somewhat mediocre lying abilities. This is how you find yourself seated next to Young-il in the near darkness that night, fighting off your nerves as you try to convince yourself to speak. 

“What do you want?” You ask when you can finally suppress your nerves. Your fingers twitch and you clasp them in your lap. Young-il is silent for a moment, before raising a brow. Maybe he didn’t hear you. “What do you want? What are you doing this for?”

He’s still quiet. You choke on a sharp, broken laugh. Even direct confrontation isn’t enough to get him to admit his role in the games. 

“How did you fall into debt?” Young-il asks you instead.

You decide to humor the question, if only so that he’ll be more talkative later on. Maybe he’ll be more motivated to tell the truth if you’re self-disclosing too. “I studied in America,” you reply. “Took a lot of loans, but it wasn’t enough. Obviously.” You huff, looking around. To think you spent all that money to get a degree… only to end up here.  

“Hm.” He doesn’t seem to have much to say regarding that. Young-il doesn’t look particularly surprised at your response either. 

“How did you actually get here?” You ask after a few seconds. “Are you even in debt?” Young-il does give off a bit of a businessman vibe—someone who’s more responsible with his money. It’s a bit hard to imagine him being in the same kind of crippling debt that keeps many of the players participating in the game. 

“I was.” He answers eventually, his arms resting on his knees. 

“You were.” You repeat, a bit surprised that he entertained the question. You recall what he told the group regarding his wife and her liver cancer, back when you first met. “Because of your wife’s treatment, I assume. Did she…?” You trail off quietly.

“Dead.” He answers, before you can stammer and stumble through an appropriate way to ask. 

“I see.” You remark. “But you’re still here. You won a game in the past, and then joined the game masters?” No response. You continue anyways. “Why? Did you have nothing else left?” You’re sure he can feel you staring at him expectantly, but he doesn’t crack under the pressure. 

“You’re persistent.” He notes after several moments. 

“And you’re very tight-lipped.” You respond immediately. Your heart is racing in your chest. This is a bit dangerous. There’s no telling what could make Young-il snap and grow angry. But, you suppose, anger would at least be a reaction. For the entirety of the games so far, he’s been infuriatingly emotionless. “That’s surprising, that you were a participant in the games once. Going through that is enough for anyone to leave and never return.”

“But you returned,” you speculate. “And to the wrong side, no less.” You’re just saying anything at this point—attempting to provoke some sort of reaction, regardless of what it is. So far, nothing really seems to be working. Maybe you need to go a bit below the belt. “I can’t imagine your wife thinks highly of you. Watching from whatever afterlife she’s in.” And that’s easily the rudest thing you’ve ever said to him, but, oh well. You could die tomorrow in the games, or here at his hand. Does it really make a difference? 

Young-il’s eyes immediately flash and you know you’ve trapped him. “Are you attempting to make me feel guilty?” Young-il asks, his voice devoid of emotion. But you know the brief flicker of anger in his eyes wasn’t a trick of the light. And while his anger is likely volatile, at least you're getting something. He’ll be more likely to talk if he’s feeling emotional. 

“Is it working?” You blink, still looking at him. He’s silent. “...Guess not.” You mutter resignedly. You swear you hear an amused exhale of breath from him, as if he’s holding back a laugh.  

“How do you get all this money, then?” You ask, genuinely curious. “This kind of operation can’t be easy to maintain.” After all, there are more than just the players that they have to worry about: there are the guards, the game masters, and whoever is watching these games. Because you know someone is watching. You can’t quite prove it, but you know regardless. 

“You are very perceptive.” Young-il says in lieu of an answer, a note of something complex in his voice. 

“Don’t patronize me.” You scoff, annoyed by the empty flattery. 

“I’m not patronizing you.” He continues, turning to look at you for one of the first times since you started speaking. “You have been a thorn in my side this entire time.”

“Oh,” you remark, surprised. You certainly weren’t expecting him to admit that you’ve been annoying him. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You really are quite strange,” he huffs.  

“And you aren’t?” You ask, taking the bait he’s dangling in front of you. “You could’ve been safe up there, or wherever the control room is. But instead you’ve joined the players once more. For… no reason. Or for entertainment, I suspect.”

Silence. 

“Do you know what games are next, then?” There’s no answer from him. You’re getting more irritated. “You realize I’m not going to stop asking questions.” You pester, if only to get him to say something. 

“That does seem to be part of your charm.” He says. It’s weirdly difficult for you to tell if his tone is sincere or sardonic. Perhaps a bit of both? No, surely not. He must be joking.  

You blink. “Okay… has there ever been more than one winner of the game?” You ask. You’re not sure why that question comes to mind. And you think you already know the answer. 

“No.” Young-il replies, confirming your suspicions. 

“How are you going to survive then?” You question, looking at him curiously. “Gi-hun’s going to win.” Will he sneak away before the last game? Or perhaps he’ll be given an advantage for it? 

“How are you going to survive?” He reasons, breaking you out of your thoughts.  

You shrug. “Not sure I will.” You admit. You’re not necessarily okay with that, but you pretend that you are. “But surely you can just sneak off or something. Fake your death in a game and disappear.” You raise a brow at him. 

“You have accepted your fate already.” He analyzes, ignoring your attempts at getting more information. He’s good. 

“The odds are against me,” you confess. “And I’d rather Gi-hun win.” Gi-hun has a lot more to live for. He would be the optimal person to carry out the end of the games, not you. 

“Why?” There’s genuine emotion on Young-il’s face, for what must be the first time. But it’s not surprise or suspicion—it’s confusion. Pure, complete confusion. He doesn’t understand what you just said or why you said it. 

“Because I care about him?” You respond, the statement coming out as a question despite it being the truth. Something passes over Young-il’s face, but it’s so quick you can’t even begin to decipher what emotion it is. “He’s the only good person in this place.” You say, your gaze wandering over the beds across the room. The remaining players are mostly asleep, awaiting the fifth game tomorrow. 

“Rest.” Young-il says, effectively terminating your conversation. “It’s my turn to keep watch.”

You don’t want to go to sleep. But Gi-hun and you agreed that you both need rest if you want to perform well in the games. And Young-il has had many opportunities to kill you already. He hasn’t done it yet. For some reason, you think he wants you both alive. And that is truly a frightening thought.  

As you head to your bed, you lock eyes with Gi-hun. The two of you have a lot to talk about, it seems. 

“Well, I tried my best.” You sigh, looking over at Gi-hun in the dim lighting of the restroom that morning. The two of you had decided to try to get more information out of Young-il—hence, your conversation with him the other night. You’re not sure if it was very helpful, but at least you can say you tried. 

“You did very well,” Gi-hun reassures you easily. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” You respond easily. The two of you are standing close together in the same stall, just like last time. “I want to end the games too… Did you get any ideas from that conversation?” 

“A few,” Gi-hun says with a frown. He seems distracted now, and almost apprehensive. You squint at him. “Is it true?” 

“Is what true?” You ask, a bit confused. 

“You said you care about me,” he recalls. 

Oh. Shit. You had forgotten he was listening to the conversation, at that point. “Of course I do,” you respond after a few seconds, recognizing Gi-hun isn’t the type of person to throw your feelings back in your face. You do care about him, yes. “You didn’t know?” You ask.

Gi-hun stares at you for a long, long moment. He’s scrutinizing you, searching your face for something. Whatever it is, he must find it, because he eventually settles. Then he’s continuing on as if he hadn’t said anything in the first place. “There’s nothing we can do about the game tomorrow… But I’m thinking the final game will be our chance.” 

“Okay.” You say after a moment, filing that previous reaction to the back of your mind. “What was the final game, when you played?” 

“Squid Game.” He responds. The expression on Gi-hun’s face is a heartbreaking mix of resignation, grief, and frustration. His fists clench at his sides as he recounts the rules. By the end, he’s practically shaking—and you realize he’s digging his nails into the palms of his hands. Concerned, you reach out and pry his fists apart, before slipping your fingers through his and clasping his hand. He looks surprised by the gesture, before he settles and nods. 

The two of you try to sleep that night as best as you can, given the circumstances. You’re worried about the final game—and the way Gi-hun ended your conversation, as if there was something he wasn’t telling you. You know he’d never hide something from you that you needed to know. You’re just… worried. Worried he’ll do something stupidly noble or self-sacrificing when it gets down to it. Of course, there’s no point in agonizing over the final game just yet. You have to make it through the fifth game, after all. 

You’re awoken along with the 30 remaining players early the next morning to begin the next game. And it is a brutal one. It is nothing like the challenge Gi-hun recalled from his own experience, where contestants jumped on glass panels, at a height that promised death for anyone who fell. It appears to involve a lot more dexterity than the last few. And, even more troubling, players have the opportunity to impede each other’s progress. 

Players are placed into groups of three and given a few minutes to complete their tasks. Gi-hun is in the first group, by some stroke of bad luck. Thankfully, he survives—but the same can’t be said for his other two group members, who are quickly shot in the head and dragged off into the darkness. You’ve been selected for the final group, which means you’re forced to watch as group after group dies in their failure to complete the challenge. This game seems designed to only let a few people survive. 

By the time it’s your turn, Gi-hun and Young-il are the only two players who managed to finish the game successfully. That’s not exactly a good omen for your survival, but you made sure to watch each player’s attempt and learn from their mistakes. You think you have a good idea of how to accomplish this task. You can only hope the pressure doesn’t get to you. 

The countdown begins and you get to work. Your hands are shaking as you scramble to finish what feels like a far too complex task for the few minutes you’re given. It’s down to the wire as your shaking hands rearrange pieces and build upon them, to the point where the timer is at ten seconds. 

Against all odds, you complete the game. The two players at your side are pleading and begging the guards to show mercy, but they are swiftly eliminated—all while you’re standing near them, close enough to hear the gunshots ring in your ears painfully. 

You can just barely recognize the guard’s arms rising to make a circle over their head, indicating that you passed the game. Sweat is beading down your neck; your hands are shaking so badly that you look as if you have extra fingers; and your chest almost hurts, as if your ribs are attempting to squeeze your internal organs and crush them. There are colors passing before your eyes at lightning speed. Shadows morph and blur at the edges of your vision. You feel unsteady on your feet. The guard standing in front of you is ordering you to exit the arena. You take a slow breath. It’s okay. You’re okay. You’ll be fine. 

You take a step. It’s more of a laborious effort than it should be. Why does it feel like you’re trapped in quicksand? Another step. You lurch forwards, catching yourself and straightening up.  The exit looks so far away. You’ve been walking for minutes now, but you haven’t even made it halfway across the arena. 

There are puddles of blood everywhere. The white sneakers they gave you are practically pink now. Your skin feels like it’s on fire, but your teeth are chattering as if you’re freezing. Everything seems to catch up to you. Days of improper nutrition and lackluster sleep; of constant vigilance and ceaseless stress; of grief and regret; of physical strain and exertion. 

It’s strange. One moment, you’re walking along just fine (albeit a bit slowly); the next, your entire world is tilting as you crumple and fall to the ground like a broken marionette. There’s a pink blur of a guard before you, and you can only hope they’ll give you a swift end to this endless series of games.

You wake up to a stiffness in your joints and a dryness in your eyes. You blink several times, your vision slowly sharpening to reveal the dorms. You’re situated on your bed, and if not for the memory of the last game, you’d think you were just waking up from a nap. You bring a hand to your temple and groan, slowly pushing yourself up. 

Then you notice a presence at your side. Gi-hun sits on the bed across from you, looking at you worriedly. “Gi-hun?” You ask, blinking past dry eyes.

Gi-hun settles, redirecting his attention and seemingly realizing you’re awake. He immediately lingers at your bedside, staring down at you with a torn expression. “I thought you were dead.” He says immediately, so quietly that you nearly hear the remark. 

“Young-il and I were waiting for you.” Gi-hun continues, his gaze exploring your face as if drinking in the sight. “But you didn’t appear… until the guards came back. And one of them was holding you in their arms.”

“I thought-” Gi-hun chokes off. “They wouldn’t tell me anything-” He says, clearly frustrated by the lack of information. He shakes his head. You reach out to grasp his hand, only to realize he’s already holding yours. His grip is delicate, as if afraid he’ll hurt you. You squeeze his hand lightly, hoping the gesture is reassuring. “And there was so much blood.” His voice cracks.

You look down to find your clothes absolutely splattered in blood (hell, nearly drenched). “It’s not mine,” you say aloud, thinking back to the game. Your opponents had gotten eliminated, and the two of you were standing quite close at the end. The guard hadn’t even waited for you to get out of the way before blowing their brains out. Their blood went all over you. “I passed out. I think- Everything must’ve caught up to me.” You press a hand to your temple and wince at the headache you find. 

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Gi-hun admits. He strengthens his grip on your hand and his other hand falls to your bended knee. 

“I’m glad you are too.” You return the sentiment. Gi-hun stares for a long moment, before shaking his head and pulling you into a hug. He grasps you tightly. 

“And Young-il?” You ask later, some time after the two of you have broken apart. You’re not necessarily worried for him—more worried about him. There’s no telling what he has planned. 

(Recognizing your exhausted state, Gi-hun decides not to tell you about Young-il. He doesn’t tell you about the look on the man’s face, nor about the mechanical way with which the man entered the empty arena moments later. He doesn’t detail the ringing gunshots that echoed throughout the nearby space, or the brief glimpse he caught of Young-il as he walked away… There was blood splattered across the man’s face and a vindictive gleam in his eyes. Meanwhile, Gi-hun returned to the dorms with the rest of the guards, nearly begging them to tell him something, anything-)

“He left, I imagine.” Gi-hun says instead. It almost seems as if he wants to say more, but he’s holding himself back.  

“It’s just us?” You ask, grasping his hand tightly. You need some sort of anchor to reality. You feel as if you’re starting to slip.  

As if sensing your distress, Gi-hun moves to sit next to you on the bed—all without letting go of your hand. “It’s just us.” He confirms. 

There is so much you wish you could say. But in your exhaustion, only one thing comes to mind. “Can finally get a good night’s sleep,” you say tiredly. You have no intention to hurt Gi-hun; and you doubt he will harm you. You won’t have to stay up all night guarding the group. (Because the group is gone. Because Jun-hee and Dae-ho are dead. Because Young-il left.) 

Gi-hun stares in disbelief, before laughing. The sound breaks you out of your spiraling thoughts. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him laugh before. “I guess so.” He relents. 

The two of you sit there for a while, before the lights-out announcement breaks through the uneasy silence in the dorms. It’s far too quiet—you’re used to hearing pieces of conversations, shuffling as people move about the room. You feel sick to your stomach. And so, so horribly alone. 

You decide to abandon your dignity and ask Gi-hun if you can sleep next to him. Fortunately, before you can overthink the question, Gi-hun is nodding with relief. The two of you then push your mattresses together on the floor and get settled in.

Before long, you’re staring up at the ceiling. Gi-hun’s hand finds yours. You twist to your side and look at him. He looks at you. The distance between you almost seems to shrink, as the two of you gravitate towards one another. There is so much you wish you could say. Dread, guilt, grief, frustration, and exhaustion all battle for prominence in your chest. You lean into him; he leans into you. It feels far too natural. 

This moment is a brief reprieve from the reality of the situation, and the fate that awaits you tomorrow. This glimpse at quiet domesticity is the most you will ever get. 

All things considered, it’s… nice.

The final game is Squid Game, just as Gi-hun predicted. The two of you walk to the arena together, entirely silent. You feel nauseous. You don’t want to die. But you definitely don’t want Gi-hun to die. He must be thinking along the same lines, as his lips are drawn in a tight frown. You trudge up the pastel steps a bit more slowly than usual, as if that will somehow delay your death. (It won’t.)

There’s a knife on the floor in the middle of the squid drawn in the sand. You almost want to laugh. If they think you’ll kill Gi-hun, they’re sorely mistaken. The two of you have chosen to wait until arriving at the final game to announce your decision to end. This way, you may have a chance at meeting the game masters.  

The walls around you are painted a cheerful blue. It couldn’t look more unsettling. You take a slow breath, steeling your nerves as you fight to speak. There’s an eerie silence in the air. “We choose to end the game.” You announce, slowly turning around at the cameras that must be scattered around the area. 

“We’re in agreement.” Gi-hun maintains, his eyes flitting about warily. “Clause 3 allows the majority to end the game.”

Your heart is roaring in your ears as you are met with nothing but silence. Will they really permit you to do this? Are you really allowed this ending? You’re breathing hard, despite the fact that you’re locked in place. 

“Congratulations, Player 228 and Player 456. You have won the 36th Squid Game.”

“What?” You choke. 

“What?” Gi-hun echoes. The two of you exchange bewildered looks. You chose to end the game, so why are you being granted victory? 

You hear sardonic slow applause coming from the other side of the space and you whip around, only to find a man in a geometric black mask. “Well done,” he says, his voice distorted. 

Dread prickles along your skin. Even with the mask and voice distortion, you know who is standing before you both. “Young-il,” you say guardedly. “If that’s even your name.” You add on. You strongly suspect it isn’t. 

The man removes his mask, revealing himself to be 001: Oh Young-il. Your suspicions are confirmed. You don’t quite react, save for subconsciously clenching your jaw. 

“You don’t seem surprised,” Young-il remarks, looking between the both of you. “I suppose that is to be expected. You were quick to catch on.” He says, staring at you intently. You feel restless and fidgety under the weight of his gaze. 

Gi-hun looks… furious, betrayed, and resigned all at once. It’s clear that, despite the fact that he believed you, he still gave Young-il the benefit of the doubt. He is too good for this place, you are reminded once more. 

“Hwang In-ho.” 001 says, apropos of nothing. 

“What?” You hear yourself say.

“My name.” He explains. “You will need to know it, as we are working together from this point forward.”

“What?” You repeat, horror crawling up your throat. Working together? “No, we’re supposed to leave-” You look at Gi-hun helplessly. He looks just as nauseated and disturbed as you are, which is a small ressurance. The winners of the Squid Game are allowed to return home. Right?

“You will receive the prize money, split amongst you both,” Young-il—no, In-ho—continues. As if either of you care about that at the moment. The prize money is the least of your concerns. “However, your continued survival comes with a condition: you must work alongside me to oversee the games.”

Gi-hun and you are both quiet for a long time. “Why?” Gi-hun finally asks, the first to regain his composure after that remark. He shoots you a helpless look, before staring back at In-ho firmly. “Because we’re both alive?” 

“Precisely.” He agrees. In-ho cuts an imposing figure in his all-black clothing and you’re once again reminded of the feeling you got when he first arrived—the sense that he didn’t belong. “You said it yourself a few days ago: there has only ever been one winner. I have negotiated for your (continued survival), on the promise that you will remain here.”

“For how long?” You ask. You don’t particularly care to hide your fear and dread. 

“As long as you have.” He responds easily, clasping his hands behind his back. As long as you have—so, for the rest of your life. 

You pay another glance at Gi-hun, knowing there’s no way he’ll accept this. Sure enough, he looks troubled… then contemplative. You’re hit with an instant feeling of foreboding. Gi-hun seems to be planning something. “If one of us dies,” he says, his voice hollow. “Will the other one be free to go?”

“...I suppose.” In-ho says, his brows furrowing minutely. He doesn’t seem to understand the point of the question.  

“Gi-hun,” you say, suddenly sensing what he’s about to do. The knife is still in the middle of the arena, untouched and neglected. But not for long, you suspect. “Don’t.” You plead. 

Gi-hun is already lunging for the knife. “No-!” You scream, immediately trying to grab the weapon. Gi-hun’s faster—wielding it and attempting to stab himself. You just barely grab his arm in time, the change in momentum sending you both sprawling to the ground. You try to wrestle the knife out of his hands, but it’s an increasingly difficult effort. Your hands are shaking, your arms burning as you use every muscle in your body to keep him from sacrificing himself. 

“Go,” he says, tugging the knife towards him again. You’re pulled along with it, straining to fight his strength. “Live a happy life, away from here.” A happy life. You both know that’s not possible. 

“Not without you,” you choke, your hands trembling on Gi-hun’s. Gi-hun is determined, but you have a height advantage as you lean over him—and you use it to pry the knife from his grip. You don’t hesitate to bring the blade to your own throat. 

“No, no, no-!” Gi-hun immediately grabs at your forearm, attempting to pull the blade away from your neck. There are tears streaming down his face, and your own vision is blurred. Your grip is growing sweaty as your adrenaline keeps you fighting to bring the blade back, if only to spare Gi-hun. The blade is getting closer and closer, already kissing your skin and drawing blood- 

“Enough!” 

In-ho's voice cuts through the air. And you suddenly feel an intense pain in your ear. The knife in your hand clatters to the ground, but you barely notice as your knees crumple under you. You’re practically writhing on the ground, your every nerve thrumming and buzzing. Your vision is pulsing around you; you slam your hands over your ears and whimper. You’ve never felt such intense, relentless pain before. Blood drips down the skin of your palms—your ears are bleeding. Tears run down your cheeks as you try and fail to recognize anything but the blinding pain. 

Finally, it stops. You choke on a breath and hear Gi-hun gasp, evidently reeling just as you are. The sand beneath you almost seems to dig into your palms. There’s a liquid feeling itching at your ears and you wonder just how much blood is trickling down your jaw and neck.

“Enough.” In-ho repeats. You’ve never seen so much emotion on his face: he is furious. He takes the knife from the ground and wields it in a tight grip. “You both will live to oversee the games,” he orders. In-ho’s eyes are still flitting between the both of you warily, as if making sure you won’t try anything again. “That decision is final.” 

With that parting remark, In-ho leaves Gi-hun and you to fall apart in the arena.

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[sunnysidesevenup]

Rambling about Che’nya/Idia/Ali because I don’t talk about them enough </3 I still don’t have a ship name for them 😔

- Che’nya and Ali were fast friends since they met in first year, and started dating in their second year! They were initially both nervous to bring up being poly to each other and then it was basically the Spider-Man meme lmao. As long as they communicate they’re both fine if they date other people!

- Ali is super forward in basically any relationship—friendship OR romance—so yeah she would totally just see Idia, go “oh he looks like one of my fav book characters” and then immediately ask him out. She’s not particularly shy about asking people out on dates—that’s how you get to know people, right?

- Che’nya was initially just gonna cheer him on but then he saw Idia and was like, wait actually…. so he went too lmao 😭

(neither of them just EXPECT other people to date both of them, they’re both just really forward so they might as well ask him out and see what happens.)

- Idia thinks they’re playing a prank on him of course. And yet somehow they weasel his number out of him. And add him to a group chat. And then are texting him every day? And encouraging him to go on rants about things he likes? And consistently flirting with him? ….this must be a VERY long joke.

- Ali rambles about her interests so often and with no hesitation and Che’nya still seems happy with him (even when it sounds like complete nonsense), so Idia then feels a bit less scared to do so to.

- Che’nya is good at video games! Sort of. He’s good at the technical aspects of them, although he sometimes gets bored while playing.

- Ali is NOT good at video games but loves the story heavy ones.

- together they make the worst backseat gamers ever. ESPECIALLY IF THE GAME HAS MULTIPLE ROUTES.

- Idia believes only Ali is interested in dating him at first and that Che’nya is just sort of taking pity on him and being supportive of his partner. At one point Ali has to cancel last minute but the two of them are already there, so Idia is like: “well, should we… leave?” to which Che’nya looks at him in absolute horror.

- “WE’VE BEEN DATING THIS WHOLE TIME TOO??” “YES??”

- the wonderland pair constantly hype Idia up to like. an insane degree. They WILL forcibly raise his self esteem, it WILL happen.

- Ali gets into cosplay because of Idia, which is… exceptionally bad for his heart lol. Stop dressing like his favorite characters!!! He’ll die!!

- Che’nya understands both Ali’s weird riddle-like way of speaking AND Idia’s geek internet speak, meaning he is the only translator for them sometimes. However, no one can translate for Che’nya, so he gets to maintain his “reputation of nonsense” (his words)

- sleepovers are the best dates for these three, except when to actually go to bed. near impossible.

- they argue about who to date in otome games constantly. Ali actually got so upset once that she didn’t speak to them for like a week because Che’nya and Idia outvoted them 😭

- Ali is the tallest! Che’nya is the shortest lol.

- they steal each other’s clothes all the time. Idia only does so on accident, though—usually he only wears Che’nya’s because Ali’s are too recognizable.

- Ali will randomly prefer to be called Alistair some days. Idia likes to call this their “mysterious full title”

- they are all very dumb and cute together and I love them anshgshsh okay that’s all for now <3

[slut4celebs]

Good Luck Charm

Sabrina Carpenter x Soccer!Reader

Word Count: 1,012

Trigger Warning: N/A

Synopsis/Request: The Reader claims that Sabrina Carpenter is her good luck charm. "i'd die for some more sabrina and footballer!reader🤭"

Hello, hello, hello! If you'd like to drop a request you can do it: here.

Quick Ad: If you're over the age of 18, and looking for a fun and welcoming roleplay server consider Kennedy University. This is an OC-only server based on a fictional university in Dallas. Here you can roleplay as the students, professors, and even teacher aids. We want YOU to join us. :)

Sweat dripped down her forehead, her heart racing erratically. (Y/n) watched the other team throw in the ball and her teammate raced to intercept the ball, kicking it away from its intended player. There was no time for celebration, just mental excitement that caused the adrenaline to pump through her veins. She automatically made a break for the right when she saw the signal for the play her teammate was trying to accomplish. Rushing into the zone where her teammate could pass the ball, she received the pass gracefully. The crowd was going wild as (Y/n) kicked it to another teammate to throw off the opposite team.

The defense from the other team was good. But her team’s offense was better. The plays were practiced and memorized perfectly. Even through their exhaustion, they were playing as if their life depended on it. Of course, (Y/n) had something that many people didn’t have. She had a good luck charm in the shape of a five foot human with blonde curtain bangs. Currently, that good luck charm is screaming at her to run and kick the ball that was just passed her way. And (Y/n) learned to be really good at listening to her instructions. As she kicked the ball past her way, she sent the ball into the ball, the goalie unable to stop it.

The crowd went wild and the score changed. 3-2. It was the game-winning goal. (Y/n) and her team hugged tightly, and (Y/n) looked up at the stands, making eye contact with her good luck charm, Sabrina Carpenter. She grinned victoriously as Sabrina blew her a kiss, that she could make out even from the distance from the stands. (Y/n) held up her heart with her hands before placing a hand on her chest, above her heart. Something she did after every game, to let Sabrina know that her win was dedicated to her girlfriend. That her win was because of her.

“(Y/n), (Y/n)! That last goal was amazing. You and your team work so well together. Like a well-oiled machine, even.” A Sports Illustrator interviewer approached when (Y/n) finally made her way over to the sidelines for water. They were young, clearly knew, and it made her smile a little to herself over the excitement they had as they approached her. (Y/n) wiped the sweat from her face with a white towel, placing her hands on her hips. “Please, you have to tell us, what helped you clutch that win tonight? That play looked incredible. And what about you? What inspires your game?”

(Y/n) looked up at the interview, a small smile playing on her lips. “We practice really hard. Our plays are memorized, and you’re right. We are a well-oiled machine. I can say that as a team, we work really good together, it’s like we can read each other’s mind. As for me, what inspires my game, apart from my amazing team, is my girlfriend. She’s my good luck charm. If I ever feel too into my head, her shouts of support and her chants for me to keep going inspire me to work my hardest on and off the field.” (Y/n) stated confidently. Her grin widened when she saw Sabrina approaching behind the interviewer. “Excuse me, it was lovely talking to you.” She made her way over to her girlfriend, kissing her softly.

“You did amazing out there. I’m so proud of you.” Sabrina stated, cupping (Y/n)’s cheeks as they separated. Moments like this always made (Y/n) feel like she was flying. Being able to kiss her beautiful girlfriend after winning a game, not to mention the praise she received when her team won a game. Sabrina kissed her again, and (Y/n) immediately reciprocated. She couldn’t help but feel eager to kiss her back. “That last kick, babe. I knew you could do it. You are such a talented soccer player. How do you feel?”

Before dating, Sabrina knew nothing about soccer. She just thought this one girl that was hitting her up in her DMs and telling the world that she was her celebrity crush was attractive. Now, she learned a couple terms here and there. Not to mention, she found a new and sudden interest in sports that wasn’t necessarily there before, but it had her gripping the edge of her seat and had her heart pounding out of her chest. Watching (Y/n) play was always something to behold, and that’s exactly how (Y/n) felt watching her perform. So, moments like these, after Sabrina watched (Y/n) passionately make her way across the soccer field and score a goal, made her feel like she was watching the stars align. 

“I feel like I’m flying.” (Y/n) admitted. This must have been how Rose felt in the Titanic, only instead of Jack holding her, it was Sabrina. “I feel so grateful to have you by my side. You make me a better player. You make me want to be exceptional. On the field and off. You’re my good luck charm, Sabrina.” (Y/n) said, causing Sabrina’s smile to only grow. (Y/n) always made her feel like they were the only girls in the world. Sabrina wrapped (Y/n) into a hug, despite how sweaty she was and kissed her cheek as she pulled away.

As they parted, a couple of (Y/n)’s teammates came over, nudging her shoulder, letting her know it was time to go get their post-game showers so they could debrief about the game with their coach. “See you in thirty minutes?” She questioned, causing Sabrina to nod. (Y/n) walked off with her teammates, looking back to blow Sabrina a kiss. Sabrina couldn’t help but feel so grateful that she took a chance on the attractive girl in her DMs, that she listened to her sisters and Joey’s words of encouragement. Because now, she was deemed as (Y/n)’s good luck charm, and it made her heart soar.

[candied-boys]

Okay okay hear me out. I know I'm biased to Luke, but him and Licht are the only ones who never get to be king and so I've thought about it a lot.

If Luke could find meaning in life without MC, as he seems to in Gilbert's route or Jin's, I think he'd actually be great. Spoilers for his route below 🧸💚

1. He's already acknowledged by his brothers for being an incredible leader because (spoiler) he is the leader of the antimonarchy faction. He can draw people from various sides together AND in his own route he even manages to appease the concerns of the antimonarchy faction WHILE maintaining the monarchy. So not only is he charismatic enough to bring people together but also diplomatic enough to resolve their differences.

2. He's one of few who has a good relationship with Obsidian and knows its inner workings. I think he'd be great both at defensive politics due to his military training and ability to predict movements from Obsidian and at cooperative politics like trade because he knows what is really needed at all levels of Obsidian society. He also has a balanced relationship with Gilbert and isn't intimidated by him.

3. He can command an army incredibly well (in his route he commands one side of a war game battle and everyone is shocked by his ability to put the soldiers in positions that use their own strengths best), so from the perspective of potential threats he could be a force to reckon with.

4. He's not actually lazy. It's a front he puts on to try and avoid having others catch onto how intelligent he actually is and suspecting him (of being the antimonarchy leader, etc).

Obviously none of these qualities necessarily make him a better potential king than any of his other brothers, but I think he could stand his own and do the job just as well as the rest.

/endRant

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk 😌

Because ikepri is a romance first and foremost, Emma’s decision of who becomes the next king isn’t much more than a plot device that affects her relationships in the text. However, I started thinking about who would actually make the best king, objectively, if that decision didn’t revolve around Emma falling in love, in one way or another, so I made this poll because I’m curious what the people think. It would also be great if you’d care to share which character you voted for and why in a reply or reblog for the data of it all.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

with the new season of squid game coming out (and if you have watched it)

How would the skellies handle the games and how far would they make it?

Now that I watched season 2, I can answer! I'll only based this ask on season 1 though if some people didn't watch season 2 yet!

Undertale Sans - He would go to the end, but he's not very entertaining. Sans is really smart and has a stupid amount of luck. He doesn't do any effort. He kinda let everyone understand the game, then he copies and somehow wins every time. He doesn't really understand how so many people die, that was actually easy like hell?

Undertale Papyrus - He would go to the marbles. As soon as the guys asked him to invent a game, Papyrus gets lost in his own very complex rules and his opponent takes advantage of that and steals all of his marbles. Too much puzzles for the puzzle master.

Underswap Sans - He would die during the game with the cookies. Blue has no patience whatsoever and might have break the cookie in half from pure rage and got shot. He chose the umbrella anyway and he has no tongue to humidify the cookie so...

Underswap Papyrus - Red light, green light. As soon as someone dies in front of him, poor Honey faints from stress and he's pretty much done. He could have die in each and every of the games anyway lol. Honey doesn't do really good in a stressful situation.

Underfell Sans - He would probably die during the "special game", but also probably because he's the one who caused the big fight in the bedroom. Red doesn't like authority and he doesn't like people telling him what to do, so chances are he talked shit to another player way stronger than him and by the time he realizes it's actually not a good idea, it's too late.

Underfell Papyrus - He would go to the end. He's a soldier trained to ignore stressful situations and he's incredibly logical. He guesses most of the games and does his best to play like an average person to avoid drawing attention on him. He goes absolutely berserk on the last game and destroys his opponent in seconds. No one saw it coming.

Horrortale Sans - Red light, green light. Oak forgot what are the rules not ten seconds after the game started and tried to get away from the crowd. Oopsie.

Horrortale Papyrus - He would die on tug of war. Unfortunately, it's way too much effort for his back and his body gave up midway, making his team lose. He doesn't even have time to feel guilty :(

Swapfell Sans - He would go to the end if there's nothing to distract him. Nox's problem is his empathy. If one player has a really sad story that touches him, Nox will try to protect them and eventually sacrifice for them to win. He's too nice for these games.

Swapfell Papyrus - He would die playing hopscotch. Rus thinks all of this is a joke and he's not scared of anyone. So he picked number one to mock all of these idiots and show them the game is easy. He missed on the first glass square and died.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He wins, of course. Wine is that extremely dangerous guy from the games. He screamed green light during the first game, causing a lot of people to die, he walked on a guy cookie after he won the second game, he erased half of the players during the night, did tug of war mostly by himself and pushed everyone on the glass squares until there were only 3 players left lol. His kill score is so high he's hired as the next frontman and he's actually happy about the promotion.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He dies at red light, green light. Poor Coffee is shaking so much he's immediately triggering the motion captors. He's the first one to die actually :(