TW: Choking, Suffocation, Hand Job, Brat Tamer Reader, Teasing

Chance Equals Fortune — Prologue

Squid Game | The Salesman x F!Reader

Summary: parasites. that is the only thing he thinks of when he meets the players he is meant to recruit. but what happens when he meets you and you are nothing of what he expects.

an au where the salesman lives and becomes a player.

Warnings: swearing and classist thinking. in the future there will probably be canon-typical violence and i'm still debating on smut.

a/n: happy new years! i'm sorry i couldn't upload this earlier i had to deal with some long distant relatives. however, due to popular demand here is the gong yoo fic as promised. this was originally supposed to be under 1k words...

Words: 2.1k

Click. Click. Click

Those are the sounds of pristine perfectly polished black shoes on concrete. The soles of the shoes worn by a handsome-looking businessman echoed loudly, causing the sounds to reverberate into the jet-black sky. As he walked beneath the faint luminescence of street lights, case in hand and his head held high, his eyes searched for the next prey to fall victim to his silver tongue. The same mouth that twisted dark truths into sweet promises others couldn't dare reject. Never once has his articulate way of speaking failed to deliver the precise words necessary to provide his superiors with a new batch of fresh meat to satisfy their sadistic tendencies. To him, it was all the same. One less piece of vermin in the world, and more importantly, one less leech to drain the well-oiled machine that is society.

Today was no different as he strolled along the sidewalk of a small park near the outskirts of Seoul. While he walked, he felt indifferent towards the small details, like the light breeze swaying the tree branches above or the faint smell of dog shit wafting through the air. Having trained himself to ignore anything and everything that could be a possible distraction from his mission. What was his mission again? Ah yes, currently that would be you.

His steps immediately halted as he spotted your figure in the distance, a dark shadow looming over a bed of flowers and a trail of smoke emitting from the cigarette between your fingers. There you are. He squared his shoulders as he fixed his expression into one of casual ease. Now, all he had left to do was to convince you all of the problems that have stemmed from your pathetic life could be solved in the blink of an eye. That your worries could dissolve as quickly as skin in acid.

He began to move again, taking long strides to where you were standing. In the time he took to reach you, he jotted some quick mental notes.

One. Your relaxed stance oozed confidence and uninterest despite being a young lady positioned in one of the most crime-infested spots of the city in the dead of night. Meaning you either had a weapon on you or had sufficient defense skills, possibly both. He must tread carefully.

Two. You were positioned next to a tall fountain, atop stood a small marble figure of a gumiho. The spot infamously known for the shady transactions dealing with drugs and other nefarious crimes. Perhaps you were waiting for someone? He'd have to keep an eye out for any newcomers that could interrupt his process.

Three. Your mouth was...moving?

His steps faltered. There was no other person around within a 3-mile radius whom you could be conversing with, nor did you have a phone in hand. How odd. In his time as a recruiter, he has encountered all kinds of people. Drug addicts, the mentally ill, and one memorable case a delirious man on the brink of death, hallucinating from hunger. You, however, seemed perfectly sane. Keyword…seemed. He shook his head, quickly putting a halt to his thoughts. He had no time to ponder over whatever weird traits you may have, he came here to do one job. He resumed his trek towards you and was soon standing mere feet from you.

Show time.

“Excuse me miss, may I have a minute of your time?”

You remain standing still, making no indication that you had noticed him. Your eyes were distant while you continued to murmur but no sound came out. He wasn’t sure if you were ignoring him or if you really were that unaware of your surroundings. Now that won’t do.

“Miss?” He tried again tentatively, his head tilting curiously as he stepped in your line of sight. “Are you alright?”

Finally, your eyes shifted into focus, taking a moment to adjust. For a brief moment, it appeared as if you were lost. However, that moment soon passed and your eyes narrowed, annoyance filling your features.

“Why did you interrupt me?”

The bite in your tone was enough to make him raise an eyebrow. Perhaps you really weren’t in the right state of mind after all. “Interrupt?”

You scoffed, ignoring the question you brought the cigarette back to your lips. Taking in a long drag before you released the smoke right in his face. His mouth turned downward in displeasure.

“Do you need something?” You snapped, your jaw clenching as you slid your free hand in your pocket. He caught the way your finger twitched as you did so. Weapon it is then.

His face instantly changed back to that previous pleasant expression, his lips curving into a kind smile though with a lack of warmth in his eyes. Instead replaced by an empty, clinical look.

”I don’t mean to be a bother ma’am, but I’m here to offer you a proposal you’re sure to like,” he states in a neutral tone, having uttered a variation of those words dozens of times. “A way to better improve your current economic situation.”

Your body tenses as your eyes dart over his figure eyeing the suitcase, no doubt analyzing him as a threat. “Look I already said I’d pay him back!” He watches as you chuck the cigarette to the ground and stomp on it. “If he keeps rushing me like this then don’t expect to get a single won out of me! I don’t give a shit who he is!” Your volume rises as you take a step back, ready to sprint if needed.

He raises his arm in surrender. “That’s not what I’m here for. As I’ve stated, I only want to help.” His mind is conjuring up the best way to ease the tension.

He hesitantly takes a step forward.

Your eyes immediately look back down. “What’s in the case?”

Another step.

“I work for a group of people whose only interest is to help those who are struggling. Our objective being to ease the burden of the majority.” He swiftly places the case at the base of the fountain, unlocking the latch but leaving it closed. “See for yourself.”

You were the one to take the final step, closing the gap between the two of you. You gave him one more skeptical look before you focused all of your attention on what was in front of you. Slowly, both hands reached out and flipped the top wide open. Your eyes widened as you took in the contents of what was inside, or more specifically, the big wads of cash.

You remained silent, frozen as a statue as you simply stared. In an instant, you whipped your head in his direction. You took the time to study him, your mouth slightly agape and a certain look in your eye he couldn't quite place. A couple of seconds passed, you clamped your mouth shut and swallowed thickly, licking your lips before you finally managed to whisper, "What do you want?"

His mouth quirked upward in a smirk. Got you. "I'd like to play a game."

You belted out a high-pitched, contorted laugh. A childlike glee completely overcoming you. "Ab-so-fucking-lutely," you grinned from ear to ear, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

It dawned on him what that look in your gaze was...

Unstable.

A jolt of thrill shoots down his spine. "I'm sure you're familiar with the game ddakji," he reaches until he grabs the two colorful squares, carefully placing the red one on the ground, "for every time your square manages to flip mine, I will pay you 100,000 won."

You nod enthusiastically, your hand shooting out as he draws his hand in at the same time. "However, if you lose...you must pay me back the same amount."

You snatched the piece from him. “Deal.” You don't waste a single moment in hurling it, the force of the impact causing the sound to ricochet like a gunshot. The square goes flying, becoming a red blur. It stays in the air for a couple of seconds, but that time is enough for the experienced recruiter to know that you've already won. By the time it hits the ground, he doesn't even have to look to know it's flipped.

You look up expectantly at him.

He glances at her, jaw clenching. Well, this isn't how it usually goes. Before he can move to pay you, your voice cuts through the silence. "From the look on your face, you didn't want me to win, correct?" The lack of response on his part encourages you to continue. "How about, instead of doing whatever the hell you were thinking, I propose a new rule," you lean forward, your eyes sparkling with mirth, "we both keep throwing until one of us loses. If I win...you give me everything that's in that case."

"And what if I win?"

Your mouth twists into a devilish smirk. "Don't worry, you won't."

His eyes look you up and down, scanning you. His hands twitch in anticipation at the challenge, adrenaline manifesting itself as electricity in his veins. His bruised ego from losing the first round combined with his competitive nature was enough to make him agree. This was not part of the plan. He could just give you the money, the card, and go about his day like he has so many times before. He has no reason to play along other than he just wants to beat you.

"Alright," his previously fabricated smile now becoming genuine, "my turn."

With renewed vigor, he launches his square and as expected, it flips. He lets out an arrogant chuckle as he fixes his suit and stands up straight, his lips stretching into a satisfied smile.

This cycle continued for multiple rounds, the money long forgotten. The need to succeed fueled the violent fire between the two of you. After a while, he lost all track of time, fixating all of his attention solely on the game.

By now, his hair was disheveled and sweat dripped down his forehead. He panted as he recovered, his arm muscles aching from the consistent use. It was taking more energy than he was willing to admit in order to keep going but like hell if he'd let exhaustion be the cause of failing.

On his turn, he prepared himself to once again launch the disc. He readied himself, drawing his arm back and—

His eyes suddenly flickered to your lips, where your tongue darted out lick them. He watches intensely at your now damp, chapped lips, mouth slightly parted as you breathe heavily from fatigue.

In his moment of distraction, the square slips from his hand. He scrambles quickly to catch it but it's too late...

He's lost.

There is a long pause of silence, before your high-pitched cackle cuts through the air. His eyes widen in shock, the realization slowly setting in.

How...

He breathes out deeply through his nose, trying his best to compose himself. What the hell was that? How on earth could he have lost? He Never. Loses. He doesn't have any longer to dwell on the fact as you practically skip in joy to the case, already counting the amount. All of this because you managed to distract him.

Your voice soon interrupts his thoughts. "Maybe the next time you want to win, you might try not to let your eyes stray so far..." you say as you wink.

How did you even notice? Wait...was that on purpose? He clenches his fists until they turn white, the thought making his blood boil. He has half the mind to kill you and call it an accident just to quell his anger.

He closes his eyes in frustration. No, I can't ruin the games.

He takes in a couple of deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down. Once he knows that his voice won't betray any conflict he feels, he speaks again, "you know, there are other games such as the one we just played. And for much larger prizes as well."

He's back in his element, his persuasive tone of voice exuding reliability. He hands you the card, explaining how it works, how to enlist, and so on.

By the time he finishes his speech, you look mostly convinced. After inspecting the card more closely, your stare finds his, "I appreciate what you have done and thank you for the opportunity. I will consider your offer. If I do accept know it will only be due to a singular fact," your head leans closer, voice lowering to a whisper and your breath fanning over his, "I never lose"

On that note, you step back and walk away, never once turning to glance back at him. You soon disappear into the dark Seoul night, shadows blending with that of buildings and trees.

He lets out a small huff in amusement. If that is true, then he's excited to see how you'll fare in the games.

please don't be a silent reader i love reading comments and hearing your thoughts.

It's always "giving price a blow job under his desk" and never "Price getting you head while under your desk".

yall knew it was only a matter of time 🤡💀

sometimes, I like to imagine the brothers actually being shown as important to the governmental system in the devildom.

like, yeah we know they’re lords and stuff, and obviously we know that a few of them have some important titles, like Levi being in charge of the navy, but like, what if they were all important??

like, I could imagine Beel being talked to about food production/harvest. maybe he’s not directly in contact with any food ofc, but I feel like he’d be the best to go to about amounts of food and maybe harvest problems, he IS an insect(I think cicada?) so I feel like he’d know a thing or two, imagine him catching an issue with the soil being used to grow a lot of the devildoms food!

And then mams playing a part in finance. which.. prolly sounds silly but hear me out:

yes, he’s in debt, clearly, however what’s something he likes to do??? Count money!! So I could see him doing the math, counting, ect. And being able to spot if there’s something wrong or if something should be changed, and since ofc he cares about cash it would prolly be one of the things he ACTUALLY locks in for. (even though he’s horrible at school, there’s no way he ISNT good at math, idc what’s canon you need math when it comes to money. Also I think it would be insanely funny if he was in a bunch of honors classes for math when he’s still in the starting course for history and junk.) ((yall can tell me how wrong this hc is however I shall not be moved!!))

and I could imagine asmo maybe handling the affairs of sucubi?? And possibly other creatures that travel to and from the human realm for… yk those purposes. He could probably have some part in giving certain people permission to travel up, and possibly travel to the human realm in general! Like if you have any reason at all to go up there you gotta run it past him first.

now with s8n… hear me out. he keeps track of history, he reads documents that are to be published in devildom history books, and he will make SURE only facts will be included, no opinions or rumors or lies. And if he catches something at all either in a WIP document or something that’s already been published, you know it WILL be changed because no one wants to face his wrath.

And ect. Ect. And yk, they’re probably actually respected throughout the devildom. Even if some citizens don’t like them for being angels, there’s no way you WOULDNT pretend to have respect(and maybe a bit of fear) for the people who are basically besties with the future king. Yk? Honestly, I DO love the whole school thing, it’s a familiar trope and it gives more room for things to happen, but you CANT give people titles and status’s like them and NOT utilize it???

also I wanted to add belphie… but I couldn’t think of anything for him that he’d actually be willing to do?? The only thing I could think of for him would be like.. similar to asmo? Like he handles hauntings? Since there’s a large amount of demons that do their work via dreams and during the night. So he’s kind of like an HR..? But like.. DR instead? But I really don’t think he’d gaf about any of that, since yk.. he still kinda hates humans so why would he care if a bunch of demons were haunting&killing them??

Maybe he has an important job, but poor Luci just has to always do it for him since belphie can’t stay awake to save his life.

I've read your fics multipul times! So much so that I just... forgot to follow you (So sorry!!) But your stuff with Tonowari and Ronal is what really opened my eyes to them. did NOT know what I was missing. ngl you're turning to to Jake now too But I'd love to hear your general na'vi headcanons. I've seen you mention things like courting/courtship, sent marking, differerent instincts, stuff like that and I'd love to hear as much as you're willing to give, like anything you wanna talk about inside and outside this ask. All of it. please. If you don't mind. That stuff is like my bread and butter.

(and sorry for my spelling mistakes! I'm just not good at spelling)

this made me laugh lmao i imagine there's a lot of people who read my stuff but don't follow me, so don't worry!!

i don't know if i have a lot of general courting headcanons, but here's some of them!

courting is typically marked by a gift exchange; traditionally, a piece of jewelry. this jewelry is usually designed exclusively by the na'vi seeking a mate, but it is common for family and friends to contribute to its construction by donating beads, feathers, textiles etc. towards it. this symbolises the acceptance and support of the future bond by the future in laws

the beginning of courtship periods are often celebrated, but courting can actually take quite a long time. the na'vi mate for life, after all, and making tsaheylu with their intended mate is a sacred act, so they don't believe in rushing it. (this is what makes jake and neytiri's sudden mating so scandalous)

throughout the courtship period, gifts and acts are service are exchanged in order to prove their worth as a mate. hunters/warriors will gift their intended mates with their kills to prove they can provide for them. carved wooden figures and tools are common too, as well as textiles and clothes woven by hand.

scent is big for the na'vi! my favourite headcanon is that the na'vi are like cats, and that they have scent glands in their noses, cheeks, foreheads, and chins! so you'll see a lot of nuzzling their faces into their mate's face, neck, shoulders, etc. in order to coat them in their scent. it's a form of claiming, and it's big among courting couples who haven't yet made their mating official!

(i like to think that's what neytiri's doing below)

Headcanon that the demons and angels don't have that instinct when somethings wrong.

MC *feels the hairs on their arms stand up*: Somethings wrong

Solomon *feels a pit in his stomach*: I agree

Demons and Angels: What the fuck

*Something goes wrong*

The Demons and Angels: What the F U C K 🤯😱🤯

Free Palestine seen in Chicago

Yall know that joke about schlatt teaching ted how to jerk off?? That but schlatts teaching ted how to finger you/eat you out😊

Finally i finish this! My hc of the boys in OM. This is mostly a ref for me but well... sorry if something looks weirg english is not my lenguaje º3º

Plus my pact mark hc for them too (all of them insp in the icons in the game, except Barb) btw make all (mostly) Sol's pacts was a real PAIN

Angels and demons to humans: AHAHA HOW ARE YOU THAT SMALL

Thought I would expand on this post a bit...

Pairing: Johnny x fem!Reader (american, unfortunately), tried to keep the reader's body type and race relatively neutral (but this lil fic is also completely self-indulgent and I'm fat and Asian so take that as you will).

Tags/warnings: alcohol, suggestive language, some semi-public making out, but no explicit sex (yet?), bad scottish accent. (if I left anything out please let me know!!)

A/N: This is my first time doing any sort of creative writing since college and I wrote this in my notes app so please be so nice to me. I'm sorry this isn't smut galore, it's more just a set up for everything. Although I do have plans to make things more spicy, I'm just a lil nervy about it. Anyways.... enjoy!

Your eyes follow the trail left by the bead of condensation as it makes its slow descent down the side of your frosted martini glass. Picking up the speared olives by the skewer, you twirl it between your fingers before sliding one off into your mouth. Savoring the briney bite before washing it down with a sip of your cocktail.

You had an early flight tomorrow and weren't planning on being hungover for it. Just attempting to decompress after a day of meetings and to soothe some of the jitters for your upcoming trip at a pub down the street from your hotel. There weren't many patrons this evening, and the dark lighting allowed for some additional anonymity. 

In your peripheral, a body slides into the stool a few down from you. Not looking for any small talk tonight, you keep your eyes trained on your glass. You take another sip and finish off the second olive.

A deep voice colored with a rough Scottish brogue asking for whiskey makes you glance up. You find sparkling blue eyes already on you. They're on a roguishly handsome face. Attached to a devastatingly built body. The man tilts his head, catching you in the act of ogling him.

"Stiff drink for a Monday, no?"

You huff out a laugh. "I suppose, but could say the same to you," nodding at the drink the bartender had placed before him.

He shrugs. "So... American? What brings you to London?"

Maybe small talk isn't so bad if it's with a statue of a Roman god come to life. "Oh, I'm here for a work trip. Last day, actually."

"Ah, a shame. I've just started my leave. Military," he explains. Though you could've guessed from the size of his biceps.

"How'd the UK treat you?"

You mull the question over a sip. "It was mostly enjoyable. Though I'm looking forward to finally having food with seasoning again," you say with a small, teasing smile.

"Cannae blame ye lass. The Brits went through all tha' trouble with the spice trade and promptly forgo' about 'em," he says with a sad shake of his head. "Ye should come to Scotland."

"What's the difference?" Feeling brave, you scoot over one chair. "The food's worse? I've heard about haggis, you know."

"Och, ye wound me!" Feigning injury with his hand clasped over his chest, he slides across to the stool next to you, your knee now brushing his. "Maybe an acquired taste, but a delicacy still."

He's looking at your face with amusement, but you're trying not to stare at the way his denim jeans look like they're painted onto his muscular thighs.

Tearing your eyes back up to his, you can almost count the dark lashes framing his eyes. But before you get too lost in the deep blue, you take in his rather silly haircut. 

"A mohawk?"

"Aye, it's tactical. Gives a bonnie lass something to hold onto," he smirks.

Eyeing his dark locks, "Not sure how having less hair to grab would make that any easier," going to finish off your drink.

"Already thinking about pulling my hair, lass? Very forward." He leans closer. "I like it."

You sputter at the insinuation, and he chuckles, leaning back, giving you some space.

He's hitting on you. This absolutely stunning man is hitting on you, and you're not sure why.

You can't help but notice the way his long fingers wrap around his glass as he takes a small swig of the amber liquid. They look strong. And thick. This close to him, you get a faint whiff of cologne and something more natural, as well. It's heady. More intoxicating than your cocktail.

The look on his face says he knows what you're thinking. You've been caught, and you feel your face warm.

"But last night, ye say?" he questions, stretching his arms over his head, gifting you with a peek of his stomach and dark happy trail. "Swear I could make it the highlight of your wee trip."

You have no control over the way your jaw drops, dumbfounded. 

Are you actually going to entertain this? The man is arrogant and a complete stranger. You really aren't the type to hook up with handsome men you’ve talked to for less than five minutes. Not that you’ve ever been presented with a situation like this before. But there's a magnetism about him, something pulling you closer to this man. Maybe just the martini hitting you quicker than you were expecting. You can't ignore the heat pooling in your core at the thought of his offer.

The rational part of your brain says to politely depart and get a good night's rest. But the part of your brain focused on the fact you haven't had sex in months after a particularly nasty break up says fuck it. There's an obviously interested, gorgeous man in front of you. Fuck him.

You slap some money down for your drink, saunter towards the door, and turn back, quirking your eyebrow at the Scotsman.

He seems a little shocked, but he scrambles to put a couple bills down and throws back the rest of his whiskey as you push out the door.

You're at the mouth of the dim alley next to the bar when you feel firm hands grasp at your middle, spin you, and pin you up against the wall.

He's got one hand up against the bricks, leaning over you as his other hand drifts down to your hip. Taking in his broad shoulders, you can't help but put a hand out to graze the outline of his pec, feeling the muscle underneath tense. 

The Scot looks hungry, eyes trailing up your body. A veritable feast. His gaze lingers on your lips for a moment before his eyes meet yours again.

He starts to open his mouth, and you can tell he's going to say something that could make you regret leading him out here. You quickly clutch his shirt, bring his face down to your level, and crash your lips onto his to shut him up.

Fortunately, he gets the hint.

He deepens the kiss, bringing the hand that was bracing him on the wall down to cradle your face. The other kneading the fat of your hip.

His lips are surprisingly soft and clearly experienced. You feel him roll his hips into yours, and a gasp escapes your lips. He takes the invitation to begin exploring your mouth with his tongue. His kiss still has the bite of whiskey, which has you moaning into his mouth. Your hands trail down his chest over his toned torso. Wandering fingers just reaching the waistband of his jeans, when his breath hitches.

Raucous laughter explodes at the opening of the alley as the doors to the pub burst open, a group spilling out. They don't look your way, but still, you draw your hands back up to his shoulders as you pull away slightly. He groans.

"I'm not really an exhibitionist."

"I think I could change tha'," he murmurs with a gleam in his eye. 

You roll your eyes. "I'm staying just around the corner," you offer.

"Well then, what are we waiting for? Lead the way, lass."

You grab his hand and start towards your hotel.

"It's Johnny," he says when you reach the sidewalk.

"What?"

"My name. It's Johnny. You'll need it so you can scream it later."

That almost causes you to stop in your tracks. You were so blinded by lust that you hadn't even gotten the name of the man whose tongue was down your throat moments ago. You give him your own name in return.

He hums. "Pretty. Though I think I'll call ye mine," he quips with a wink.

Could you strain your eyes from rolling them too much? You might need to be careful if he keeps his oneliners up.

"We'll see about that lover boy," you toss over your shoulder, hauling him down the street towards the privacy of your room before you can change your mind. 

--------

You wake up early in the morning with a slight ache in your hips, shocked that you received zero noise complaints last night. 

There's a faint rumbling next to you and a heavy arm draped over your stomach. Johnny's sleeping peacefully. He deserves it, you suppose, after the work he put in last night.

A glance at your phone shows you miraculously managed to wake up before your alarm, but it's still almost time to go. You thank your past self for having the foresight to pack up before going out yesterday.

Trying your best not to wake him, you shimmy out from under his arm and sneak your pillow into the space you were occupying. You freeze when he stirs. For a moment you think he might wake up, but he just squeezes the pillow closer and his soft snores resume.

You change into the comfy travel outfit you had set aside. Sweats, your softest tee, and a sweatshirt. After slipping on your sneakers, you turn to the small desk against the wall, eyeing the thin hotel stationary notepad and pen.

You think to write Johnny a note, but you don't want to leave your number or anything. No need to stay in touch. You opt for a little rating of your night together. It's fun. Maybe a little demeaning, but ultimately harmless since you know you'll never see him again. Not that you would turn down another night with the sexy Scotsman. You just had a flight to catch and no intentions of returning to London anytime soon. You scribble out a quick review:

4/5 stars. Nice hands and ate pussy like a god. Talked too much and fuckass haircut though.

You smirk to yourself as you slide the note onto the bedside table. Grabbing your suitcase, you make your way out of the hotel room. Fingers crossed he's up before check out.