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un-unavoidableanxiousball · 12 days ago

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Excuse me, Mr. Loaf Man?

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Rating: Mature

Fandom: Squid Game

Pairing: platonic: Salesman x Reader,

Characters: Salesman, Reader, background homeless people, parents - mom and dad,

Tags: gn!child!Reader, compassionate!Salesman, still unhinged!Salesman, abusive parents, angst, fluff, comfort, 2nd person POV, Reader's POV, alternating POV, 3rd person POV, Salesman's POV, Reader is a single child, obsessed!Salesman,

Warnings: spousal abuse(implied), child abuse, starvation, force feeding, yelling, child negligence, vomiting (mention), Reader is locked in a closet as punishment, cuss word(s) (I think)

Summary: 10 year old Reader prefers spending their time in a park. They can keep themself entertained. Sometimes they see a man walking around, talking with homeless people. After a couple of times, they decide to approach him.

Word count: 6075

Acronyms: (y/n) - your name, (f/n) - father's name, (m/n) - mother's name

A/N: Pretty sure there's dubious pacing; mind any possible grammatical errors or accidental shift of Reader's gender.. Tell me if I missed a tag; I'm weird and I can't write

A/N: I was the one that made the childish drawing above on my tablet. Just for this fanfic. I just edited it a little to look like it's a child showing it (hands are from google). I tried to make reader neutral looking but I couldn't manage. But it's the thought that counts. Don't copy without tagging me.

Reader's POV

You make your way to the nearby park, again. You sort of can't wait, you hope that the kind man will be there today as well. For days you've been bracing yourself how to approach him.

On days when your mom can't immediately pick you up from school, — tuesdays, thursdays and fridays — you learned to keep yourself busy. Your favorite place is at the park. Nobody bothers you there. And one day you saw a man in a suit with bags in each hand. He went up to every homeless man and woman handing out something. You couldn't see it from so far away. No one looks at homeless people. But he does, so he must be kind.

If he's willing to talk to them then maybe he'll talk to you too? No one really likes you either. You don't have any friends. And dad certainly thinks of you as too revolting to look at.

After that day you went to the park every time mom runs late. Keeping an eye out for him. He wasn't always there. But you felt better after getting a glance of him. Also you kept shortening the distance from which you were watching him.

But now you are ready. You didn't have to wait long after arriving. You basically rush up to him and before you can chicken out you speak. "Excuse me, sir…?"

He turns to look at you, his expression a little irritated and curious at being interrupted. A raised eyebrow and a short "Yes?" is enough to make you continue.

"What do you have in those bags, sir?" you ask tilting your head.

He considers you for a moment then he opens one bag, curtly replying "Bread."

You feel your eyes widening at the amount of packaged loaves. Is that what he always offers others? You look up at him eagerly, "Can I have one, please?"

To your astonishment he agrees and lets you take it. "Gamsahabnida, sir." [Thank you, sir] With that you rush back to your spot on the bench.

You happily eat while you see him going through every person. After the last man, he then walks and stops in the centre of the pavement. He does something you didn't see before nor expect. He empties both bags to the ground, bread lands on the ground. And when a man crouching, reaches for one. He stomps on it.

"I gave you a chance, and you made your choice." His voice is loud enough for you to clearly hear what he's saying. "I'm not the one who threw these away." He points to the ground, "It's you, ladies and gentlemen."

And then he starts jumping and crushing the bread. You keep nibbling on your loaf but it does nothing to calm your beating heart at the familiar sight. You know very well it's a reasonable punishment for not eating. You don't understand how they could keep denying the bread to the point that today the kind man had enough of them. You're happy you managed to get one loaf from him.

You keep your gaze down on the ground in front of you. There's still plenty of time until mom can finally drive you home.

So you decide to do your homework. You were already half-way done when lesson ended. You were putting the last touches when a shadow falls on you and your notebook. You glance up to see loaf man staring intensely at you. Does he want to sit here?

Your cheeks flush with shame, you scramble up to pack everything. "S-sorry, sir."

He grabs your wrist to stop you from packing up further. "It's fine. I don't mind." He gives you a small smile. "If I may ask… Why are you here? Where are your parents?"

You hug your exercise book to soothe yourself. "At work. Mom doesn't pick me up until later." A bit of silence passes that you break quietly. "Thank you again for the bread. It was delicious."

In softened voice and a bit slowly the man speaks, "Did I frighten you little one? Are you scared of me?"

You're pinching and rubbing the book cover in a soothing motion. You look at the ground which is when you notice he still has the paper bags but this time containing stomped on bread.

"Not really? I was a little startled when you dumped and crushed the bread… But I get it. My parents don't like it when I refuse to eat either. But usually I have to eat it when dad tells me so; even if I don't like the taste."

"Is that so?" It's told with an edge you can't pick up.

You nod your head, your grip on the book loosens.

"How old are you?"

"…ten…" Your answer is mumbled enough that the man has to lean in closer to hear it.

"You're ten?" He whispered in disbelief. He looks around as if to see if someone finds this unbelievable as well. "…and how long will it be until your mother picks you up?" His eyes jump across your face in search of something.

"It's usually 4:48 PM. Maybe minutes earlier or later. I don't mind it much. I'm a big kid."

His eyes darkened for a moment only to be swiftly replaced by softness and calmness. He sends you a charming smile. "Then you wouldn't mind my company then?"

You shake your head and that's that.

Since Mr. Loaf Man doesn't mind, you unpack again to finish the rest of your homework. He doesn't speak to you again. Just sits there, quietly observing you. After you finish every homework you had, you decide to play around. A little hide and seek. Mr. Loaf Man even played along with you! When time neared 4:30 you already have everything in your backpack and are ready to head back to your school gate. That was the moment when he offered to walk you there. He's so kind! Of course you readily agreed.

After arriving to your school, he makes sure you'll be okay alone and walks away. You only wait six minutes after that for your mom to come. You step into the car and buckle your seatbelt.

"Did you have fun at school sweetie?"

"Yes, mom. Just like always. I even got to solve an equation and write it on the board!" You say with excitement.

"That's amazing, sweetie."

...

"Mom…?" she hums, "…what's for dinner today?"

"Maybe… Baechu Guk, hmm?" You actually like it so maybe it won't be that bad today. You will lick the plate clean! And dad will be happy. It's not your favorite but at least it's not sannakji. You felt really sick after eating that. You hate it but dad makes sure you eat it everytime it's served. You can cry and scream but dad knows how to force you to swallow it. But more often than not, you throw up afterwards. And then you don't get to eat for couple days. As a way to make up for you wasting food.

Mom parks the car before your house. You quickly get out to help her carry the grocery bag. She opens the door and you make your way to the kitchen. Not before quickly taking off your shoes. In fast moves you set everything on the table and then place things in the correct cupboards (those that you can reach).

Your mom walks in, having already hung her coat. "That's okay, (y/n). I have it from here. You go to your room and do your homework, okay? Food will be ready in half an hour." She rubs your head.

"Okay mom." You go to the front door to leave your jacket on the hanger. You hurry to your room.

You only have 30 minutes to think of a gift for Mr. Loaf Man. You need to show your gratitude. It's proper.

But you don't know what he likes… A bracelet is out, he doesn't seem like the type. Besides it's more a gift for girls. A key chain? You don't know his favorite colors though, so it's out too.

A picture maybe? Nothing goes wrong there. Maybe it's a little basic… But you might be able to give him something better later on.

But you want it to look, if not good, decent enough. It has to show your gratefulness. So minutes pass as you test out different colors and positions and something always didn't sit quite right. It turns out ugly. You ended up re-doing it every time. You couldn't decide what else to draw when mom calls for dinner.

Dad already sat in his chair, his face forever frozen on expressing frustration. You join the table as mom brings food.

First portion goes to dad then mom and then to you. You wait until dad starts eating.

"(y/n), tell your dad what you managed to do today."

You nod your head, enthusiastic to share your accomplishment. Dad might be happy too. "I got to do an exercise in front of the whole class! I solved every equation correctly."

He scoffs, "What is there to be proud of? You probably forgot to do your homework."

You lower your head and focus on eating, every ounce of excitement leaving your body.

"(f/n)!"

"What?! You know I'm telling the truth! They're incompetent! Not even the top of their class." He grunts and goes back to eating.

"They're capable enough not to need help with homework. (y/n), did you manage to finish everything your teacher gave you?"

Forgetting to swallow, you answer that yes, you did. Your mother continues, "See? They did that in half an hour."

Dad growls and bangs his hand on the table. "Are you blind, (m/n)?! Did you not see what I did? How many times have I repeated myself- No talking with your mouth full! Clearly (y/n) is a useless brat! Nothing stays in that head."

You curl in on yourself further. Wishing to become invisible in this moment. But you also hurry with Baechu Guk to avoid angering him further. And because you're going to need it. As you know you can't avoid your punishment for forgetting a rule. Thankfully this time your dad decides to punish you after dinner.

Mom cleans the table while dad grips your small arm and leads you to the punishment closet. He shoves you inside. "You should know the deal. But since you're a forgetful dumbass, I'll repeat it for you." He leans closer to your face, disgust clear on his face. "You stay here as long as the number of times you broke the rules. For every disobedience is 10 more minutes. Today marks 110 minutes, congratulations. Now, quiet!" He hissed the last part. With that he slams the closet shut. You hear him lock the closet door with a key.

You're shaking all over. Alone in the darkness, dreading how long 110 minutes will feel like. You feel your tears run down your cheeks. You hope he won't forget to get you out. You won't have time to do Mr. Loaf Man that drawing otherwise… You hope that this friday he'll be there and won't mind your company again.

earlier, Salesman's POV

He's heading toward the park where most of the homeless reside. It's the latest whim of the frontman. Social experiments. As if humanity has any hope for redemption. Especially the trash. He's confident it's the fault of player 456 for this idiocy.

Arrogance seems to be a heritable trait for winners. They think of themselves as special. Player 456 with his will to put a stop to the games and player 132… well, being chosen as the next frontman and successor by the host surely went to his head.

He arrives to the park when he hears someone run in his direction. He was ready to pay them no mind. He's far more irritateable today. He keeps walking until he hears a child's voice. "Excuse me, sir…?"

Curious what a child might want from him, he turns his head to look at them. He lets out a clipped "Yes?". Though he had no intention for it to come out unkind. Apparently today the hold on his mask is far looser than he thought.

Astonishingly the child isn't deferred by his sharpness. With a tilt to their head they ask the last question he expected. Which it shouldn't have been, considering the circumstances.

"What do you have in those bags?"

He considers for a moment what to do. Ignore, not ignore, lie or not. But he sees no harm in answering truthfully. He shifts his hold to open one of the bags so the child can see inside. He says "Bread." with more stable tone, but still has some curtness to it.

He sees their eyes widen with wonder. Their mouth goes slack in shock. They look back up at him in seconds asking if they can have one.

He agrees. One package less won't interfere with overall choice of the less fortunate. There's always more than enough bread left over. Not many choose food over a lottery ticket.

They rush off after saying "Gamsahabnida, sir!". And he goes about his routine. He approaches men, among which only one chose to take the packaged bread and immediately inhaled it. The few women there are a different matter. Within the four only one chose lottery. It always seems like females are smarter in that regard. It's never enough though.

But today, there was something about their choices that kept adding fuel to his already bad mood. He stops in the front, puts down his suitcase and the bags. Then he takes one bag after the other and spills their contents to the ground. Homeless crowd moves with confused apprehension. He pays them no mind.

He feels a twitch of apathy at the quantity. This pile of bread shows exactly why natural selection is so important. Here's proof that humanity's advancement in medicine not only helped raise quality of life, but also allowed inferior genes to survive. Some characteristics should've died out a long time ago.

"Why would you throw away perfectly good food like that?" Unbelievable. The audacity of the question. Doesn't the damn hypocrite hear himself? He declined it, preferred a hopeless chance at winning lottery over nutrition.

The revolting scum reaches for the bread. The entitlement astounds him and he won't let it stand. He crushes the bread with his shoe. But he gains no satisfaction witnessing the uncomprehending expression. "I gave you a chance, and you made your choice."

It doesn't register in their microscopic brains. His voice raises: "I'm not the one who threw these away." he point at the ground to emphasize, "It's you, ladies and gentlemen."

But he observes no shift in their expressions or postures. No change. No remorse. Nothing.

Their lack of critical thinking and absolute absence of self-awareness among them drive him into a frenzy.

He stomps and jumps with fervor, squashing as many bread buns as he can. He unleashes on these packages his tightly contained frustration and anger toward this crowd, his boss and that stupid player 456.

His energy runs out fairly quickly but he feels slightly better for it.

He presses his hands against his face, applying pressure to further ground him to the present. Tries to fix his hair then straighten his spine and tucks in the tie.

He look around to see which packages survived the ordeal. He picks up each one that did and puts them back into the bag. The ungrateful vermin don't deserve good things that's clear.

He's back hiding away behind his calm and unbothered mask. He makes a move to turn around and leave when he sees them. The same child that inquired after the bread.

They're still here? Why? If they saw his actions, why do they remain around? And… are they doing homework?!

He finds himself puzzled and his feet lead him to them automatically. He can't avert his eyes from the sight. Apparently unbothered by the scene he caused just now. He stands there casting a shadow over their book.

You startle and seem in a hurry to make space for him to sit. Except… It looks like you want to get away entirely. He doesn't want that. He takes hold of your wrist to stop you.

"It's fine, I don't mind." He aims for a reassuring smile and doesn't know if he succeeds. "If I may ask… Why are you here? Where are your parents?" Why are you alone when anything tragic can happen to you at anytime?

He notes you're a little nervous or shy but aren't hostile toward him. "At work… Mom doesn't pick me up until later." How much later? He's a psychopathic man who keeps up a facade on a daily basis just to pass as normal; and even he knows it's negligent to leave someone so small and innocent without protection. Wasn't there a saying or a quote telling children should be cherished? Is society at such a low point it's acceptable nowadays? A spark of anger lights up within him, again. Your voice brings him back from his thoughts.

"Thank you again for the bread. It was delicious." Such a polite child. He notes that you still hang on that book for dear life.

He slows his words intentionally, softens his tone to not unnerve you further. "Did I frighten you, little one? Are you scared of me?"

He observes your body, hands are shaking a little, fingers twitching at the book cover.

"… My parents don't like it when I refuse to eat either. But usually I have to eat it when dad tells me so. Even if I don't like the taste."

You answer quietly, but oh. Hearing that you not only understand his actions but your dad forces you to eat something you don't enjoy. That's a brand of cruelty that he finds distasteful. Forcing anybody to anything they're unwilling to is atrocious. At least, he manipulates and twists other's perceptions until people agree by themselves. He has enough finesse to do it the correct way after all.

"Is that so?" You only nod your head. Moreover you're not as tense anymore. Maybe that's what spurs him on to ask the next question, even if it has the ability to anger him further. "How old are you?" He leans in quickly enough to hear you say ten.

T e n .

"You're ten?" He voices his disbelief so quietly he doesn't know if he made any noise. He looks to his right then left almost looking for any possible threat because this child is ten years old and alone, left to their own devices. He's breathless for a moment, because at this discovery he feels unreasonably protective. "…and how long will it be until your mother picks you up?" His eyes take every detail of your face, hoping that it won't be long. But his hopes are crushed like the bread beforehand.

"It's usually 4:48PM…" What kind of parent leaves a child alone for 3 hours?! Truly horrible one, apparently.

"…I'm a big kid." Ohh… The instinct to kill anyone who would even dare to ruin that innocence overwhelms him for a second. He harshly tugs on his control to smile pleasantly at you, "Then you wouldn't mind my company then?"

He receives a shake of your head as an answer. It's so frustratingly easy to have your trust. How come nobody took advantage of that already, he does not know. But he will try his best to keep an eye out for you from now on.

Which he'd be doing a poor job since, at some point, you seemed to have disappeared into thin air from one second to the next. He grew alarmed instantly when he didn't see you next to him. Looking around for you or possible suspects wondering how he didn't notice anyone move. That was until he heard a giggle. He whips around to see a child's shadow behind the tree. He felt instant relief, his heart slowing it's alarming rate.

Apparently someone thought it'd be a good idea to play hide and seek without telling him. And since you're not in danger…

Well… Two can play that game.

"Little one? Where have you gone to?" Another muffled giggle can be heard. "I didn't get to become friends with you properly…" He overexaggerates his sadness. "How will I play with you when I don't even know your name little flower?" He stomps his foot dramatically, childishly, "And now you're gone and we won't meet anymore. Because I don't know how to find you…"

Now those adorable giggles turn into full blown laughter. You step away from the tree and easily run to him to hug his legs.

"You're so silly! We're already friends!" He hugs back to the best of his abilities. And says with, not even faked, surprise: "Really?! I didn't know that!"

"Besides we can meet here in the park, I come here after school, most of the time."

He feels a gentle smile on his face. Being in your presence for such a short time already make him feel lighter and his world a little brighter. Such an easy happiness. "That's good."

"Yeah, also my names is (y/n)! Now you know me." You clap your hands, excited, and go to sit on the bench again.

(y/n), what a beautiful name. I'll protect you, (y/n). No harm will come to you.

He looks at his wristwatch. 4:04. Soon you're getting home. He will walk you there.

When he asks if he can, you agree, again. Turns out he could only walk you to the school gates. Your mother picking you up with a car.

He chose to depart from you, but he stayed to observe from afar. He was displeased since it looked like the mother is malnourished as well as tired. Most of the fault lies solely on your father then. She at least looks a little overworked. It's clear your parents are unfit for the responsibility of caring for a child.

Soon (y/n) will rely on him for everything. He can't wait to meet again.

Back to Reader's POV

When you were finally let out of the closet you were tired. Emotionally drained. You couldn't draw for Mr. Loaf Man now, since you didn't have any energy. You went to the bathroom almost immediately.

Now you are laying on your bed, under the comfort of your blanket and beloved plushie. You pray you'll have time to draw something tomorrow at school. You already put your crayons in your backpack. You just need time. It doesn't even matter to you how it'll turn out. But you can't, won't go empty handed.

You fall into dreamless slumber.

And so you wake up next morning and go through the motions until you're at school. Then at breaks you sit somewhere on the sidelines, using the time to draw the most standard and boring drawing ever. First you did him then yourself. Then you drew a sun in the corner. You wrote who's who just in case. On the next break you drew the green grass and lastly the blue sky.

You're happy it's friday today. That means Mr. Loaf Man and the weekend.

When your lessons end you're in a hurry and have a slight spring in your step. You're basically vibrating with anticipation. You'll head straight to the same bench as yesterday.

But when you arrive… You gasp. He's already there waiting for you. You feel a wide grin spread on your face in happiness. When he notices you, his expression lifts as well.

"Hello (y/n). We're giddy today aren't we?"

"Yes!" You nod your head quickly a couple of times, it made you dizzy. "I have something for you, Mr. Loaf Man!" His eyes widen at that. Whether it's your nickname for him or your gift you don't know. You take off your backpack and immediately open it to reach the drawing.

"I'm sorry it's not good and not pretty enough but I was in a hurry." You hand it to him. He holds it gently as if afraid of crumbling it. He looks at it for a long time in complete silence. So much so that slowly your proud smile gets smaller and smaller. "You don't like it…?" Your voice wavers slightly under your sadness. Your blurry eyes make their way from his face to focusing on his tie.

"What-?" His voice croaks as if he didn't speak for days. "I love it."

You look up at that. "Really?" His face is unguarded. His eys are shiny, one tear already ran down his left cheek. His eyebrows are twitching as if they're unsure which way to go.

"Of course, it's just… it's been… s-such a long while since I got a gift. And one so, so lovely and meaningful as well." He open his arms offering a hug. You take him up on it. His grip on you is unyielding. "Come on, don't cry. There's no need." You hoop your arms around his neck and press your face to his shoulder. He picks you up into his lap. "I appreciate your efforts behind this, alright?" is gently whispered to your ear. You choose this moment to pat his hair, in — what you hope for — is a soothing gesture. You don't know if you succeeded since he started trembling.

He doesn't let you go for a long while. But you don't either.

When both of you are back to decently presentable — and not falling apart — you break away from each other.

"I have something for you too. Nothing as thoughtful though…" He takes the grocery bag that was next to him and reaches inside. He passes to you another packaged bread. You take it and immediately dig in. You thank him for it. "Are you going to offer food to them again? Or did you already did that today?"

He looks at you then to the homeless then back to you. "No and no. I think I'll give them a week to think over their actions, hmm?" He tilts his head in askance.

But you nod your head, "Makes sense. I do that at home too. Maybe it'll work for them too."

His eyes narrow, "What do you mean?"

"When I refuse to eat, I have to. And when i waste food, usually it's after I throw up. I don't get to eat to make up for all the wasted food." You smile up at him, "That's why I like you, sir. You're very kind and fun but you're very fair. But…" You take a thoughtful expression, "I don't get it… why refuse food? They need it after all and unlike me, it's not easily available to them. It'd be really stupid if they did the same in a week."

You focus back on the man's face only to be met with an impressed and proud expression. You feel your cheeks warm up at that look.

"You're very smart and observant, little one;" his soft voice prods at your shyness, "not everyone sees it the same way you do."

When your eyes don't lift from the ground, he speaks up again. "Do you wish to stay here or go somewhere else?"

You look up at him in question.

"What? I have some ideas…"

Salesman's POV

He finds his yesterday's behavior a little ridiculous. Moreover over a child he barely knows anything about. He couldn't put his obssessive focus towards learning more. With only their name and the fact (y/n) has horrendous parents.

Unfortunately for him, he didn't pay any attention to their mother's car registration plate. At least then he'd have a starting point. At this point in time however he can look into the school. The type of students there and the staff.

It did nothing to calm his mind.

He spent his time in bed thinking of many ways to bring them closer to him. How he should go with disposing their parents when he finally learns where you live.

The following morning he wakes from restless sleep and stayed that way throughout his day. Five people he approached to recruit and each time his hand was twitching to use the pent up energy on slapping the trash.

Arriving to the park at similar time as the day before wasn't a problem. Although he automatically sits down on the same bench. Call him overeager and impatient all you want. He has enough patience to wait for you.

And waiting for you he was. He didn't even learn if you have time to come here today.

But he shouldn't have worried, he sees your small form approaching him with clear joy. The moment he notices you, he feels his mood improve. He's not even sure if he manages to contain his own happiness over your eagerness.

"Hello (y/n). We're giddy today aren't we?"

"Yes! I have something for you, Mr. Loaf Man!" His eyes widen at that. Loaf man? However did you come up with that? And did he hear correctly..? You brought something for him?

Quickly your backpack's on the ground and a paper's in your hands. He looks at the paper and his breathing stops. A drawing.

You made a drawing for him, of him and you. "I'm sorry it's not good and pretty enough but I was in a hurry." He can't tear his eyes away from it. He gingerly accepts it from you. Your hands did this. For him. You spent enough of your time thinking about him, in good light nonetheless, that you had to put your thoughts and feelings on paper. It's the most precious thing he came across in a long time.

"You don't like it…?" He barely catches your voice. But when he registers the insecurity in it. He finally looks at you, however it does little, because he doesn't know when he started tearing up.

"What-?" His voice croaks from the sheer pressure of emotions. But he'll sooner kill himself than make you feel inadequate, unappreciated, unloved. "I love it." You have to know that.

"Really?" Fragile hope in your voice is enough to render his tailored armor useless. How does he explain?

"Of course, it's just…" he breathes deeply, "it's been… s-such a long while since I got a gift." Does he even remember the last time? "And one so, so lovely and meaningful as well." He needs to hold you. In this moment he craves to bring you as close as he can to his normally unfeeling heart. He open his arms in invitation.

You take him up on it too.

He grips you strongly. You can't leave him. Not when you demolished his foundation, unearthing emotions he never thought he could feel. You simply can't. He'll lose himself completely.

"Come on, don't cry. There's no need." He doesn't know if it's directed at you or himself. Your small arms wrap around his neck, your face tries to bury itself in his shoulder. He picks you up to hold onto you more comfortably. He presses his head against yours. "I appreciate your efforts behind this, alright?"

His thumb moves up and down on your back. He drowns in his overwhelming love for you. That's when he feels your hand. Your fingers going through his hair, petting him.

Here he is. A monster reduced into quivering mess. Wrapped around your little finger. You're such a devious yet innocent little marvel. You don't even do this on purpose. To have him ready and willing to bend to your every whim in no time at all.

It takes a long while for both of you to calm down and for him to regain his control. You break away from each other when you're sure neither of you won't fall apart all over again.

"I have something for you too. Nothing as thoughtful though…" He reaches next to him for the bag he nearly forgot about. Since he can't trust your parents about your nutrition, he'll take it upon himself. Three hours is a long time for you to grow hungry anyway. There's no harm in providing food. You take the bread from him and with a quick thank you start eating.

"Are you going to offer food to them again? Or did you already did that today?"

He looks at you. You never even talked to them and you're concerned for them. He looks at their pathetic figures, lying, wasting away in the sun. They're undeserving of your concern. He looks back at you and your questioning expression.

"No and no." He shakes his head, he doesn't even want to think about them much less approach. Even if he knows he'll have to at some point. "I think I'll give them a week to think over their actions, hmm?" He tilts his head in mimicry of your action yesterday.

And just like the other times, you don't question his actions nor motives. You simply nod your pretty head.

"Makes sense. I do that at home too. Maybe it'll work for them too."

His eyes narrow at that.

"What do you mean?" He can feel his shackles raising. Such a dangerous territory…

"When I refuse to eat, I have to. And when i waste food, usually it's after I throw up. I don't get to eat to make up for all the wasted food."

So not only is your father shoving food down your throat… He starves you for not holding it down as well. If he ever gets his hands on that repulsive monster, he'll make sure he suffers greatly for his sins.

Your large smile grounds him away from his plans. Even if that smile shouldn't be so wide after talking about your abuse. How did your innocence survive the ordeal?

"That's why I like you, sir. You're very kind and fun but you're very fair."

Him? Fair? Kind? He's flattered you think so, but he doesn't see it. It's probably because your childish view wasn't ruined. You never saw him do anything truly monstrous. He'll make sure you don't.

"But.. I don't get it… why refuse food? They need it after all and unlike me, it's not easily available to them. It'd be really stupid if they did the same in a week." Your pout is very cute and he'd probably focus on it for longer if not for what you said.

You intelligent and observant little creature, you make him feel emotions he didn't before. He's impressed how someone so young can be smarter than the common person. Maybe there's still hope after all. You might not have been acquaintanced for long, barely a day, but he feels pride for your astuteness. He latched onto you. You're his; his light in this dark world with deceptive roads and sharp curves covered with shadows. He'll nurture that intelligence to the best of his abilities.

He sees you blush at his attention, poor thing… You must be so unused to positive attention. He won't let it continue. With a softness he didn't know he's capable of, he voices the compliments. "You're very smart and observant, little one; not everyone sees it the same way you do."

When you still don't look up, he speaks again. This time on a different topic, away from his admiration. Baby steps.

"Do you wish to stay here or go somewhere else?" It works wonders. You look up with a question in your eyes. "What? I have some ideas…

…What do you think about ice-cream?" His suggestion makes your eyes light up with excitement. His world is a little brighter for it.

He'd take you to every shop and buy you anything you'd briefly glance at if that's how you'll look everytime. Just for a chance to see your smiles again.

After ice-cream, you spent the time by simply being in each other's company. You wanted to go back to the park and so you did, but this time to a different part of it. Far away from those hopeless causes. The time flew past just as quickly as the day before. But this time when he walked you to your school's gate and left to observe from afar. He remembered to memorise the licence plate.

He can get to know you to his heart's content. But first, home.

I feel like my brand of weirdness clashed with Salesman's diffrent kind of freak; but I don't think he's too OOC..?

I hope you liked it. <3 There are other parts I have in store, but they can act as stand alone. Tell me if you want me to write them.

There's no masterlist for Squid Game yet

#fanfic #squid game #salesman x reader #the recruiter x reader #the salesman x reader #rating: mature #tw abuse #platonic reader #child abuse #child reader #second person pov #reader pov #obsession #unhinged #how do i tag this #proud of myself #cant write #but also #proud of this one

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library-ghoulette · 7 months ago

Text

Now There Is Nothing Between Us

Pairing: Copia (Papa Emeritus IV) x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tags: second person POV, established relationship, VHS and chill, their first time, my kink is being loved and wanted, crying, reference to past heartbreak, hurt/comfort, discussion of sexual fantasies, pillow princess!Reader, oral sex (f receiving), handjob, p in v sex, coming inside (please fuck responsibly), Copia being tender, Copia fucking the self-doubt right out of you

Words: 2435

Summary: Anxieties about your first time with Copia rear their head at the worst possible moment, but luckily he knows just how to ease your fears.

A/N: I wrote this because I was stressing out about writing sex scenes for the first time in a long time, and I thought it might help to have my favorite Papa sweetly talk me through it. This was supposed to just be for me, but I'm sharing it for anyone else who needs a therapy session with their smut.

ao3 link

divider by @gothdaddyissues

“Amore mio, what’s wrong?”

The question takes you by surprise. You were mid-kiss when Copia pulled back, his mismatched eyes searching yours with concern.

“N-nothing’s wrong,” you stammer, reaching for him again, eager to pull him back in, keep his mouth occupied, so he can ask no more questions.

But he stubbornly avoids your advances, catching your hands in his and holding them between the two of you, restrained. He settles onto the pillow beside you, face-to-face.

“You think I know you so little that you can lie to me?” he asks. “That I can’t feel it when you’re all stiff?”

He pulls his shoulders up and grimaces in a comically horrified expression that makes you smile in spite of yourself, but still you say nothing, merely look down at where he holds your hands clasped in his much larger, much stronger, ones. He runs a reassuring thumb over your knuckles.

It was supposed to be a special night. At long last, it was supposed to be the night.

The two of you had gone from stealing glances at one another in the halls of the Abbey, to sharing friendly movie nights where you sat on opposite sides of the couch, both too timid to make a move, to significantly friendlier movie nights that devolved into heated kisses long before the end credits even rolled.

Each night, there would come a moment where the kiss would break, when a heavy pause descended and there came an unspoken question that you knew you had to answer.

Every night before, the answer has been no. You would remark on the lateness of the hour and go back to your own room. And there you lay awake, burning with thoughts of all of the things you could have done if only you had stayed. All the places where Copia could kiss you, could touch you, as you touched yourself.

But not tonight. This time, when that silent question made itself known, the answer had been yes. You had stayed, followed Copia to his bed, let him lay you down with a gentleness that spoke of brutal desire barely contained. Pressed yourself against him, returned his kisses, helped him shrug out of his sweatshirt and pulled his T-shirt over his head with obvious eagerness. You had thought that you were doing well, doing it right.

Apparently, you had been wrong.

Great. Now you’re on the verge of tears. Very sexy. Definitely not a surefire way to spoil the mood.

Copia is still looking at you, his unpainted face soft, searching, utterly open. You don’t deserve his attentiveness, his care. It makes you want to hide.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” He kisses your knuckles. “You are maybe having second thoughts?”

“No! No, I– I really want to do this.”

“But something is bothering you. And we’re not doing anything until you tell me what that is. Until we fix it.”

Why does he have to be like this? Why can’t he just let it go?

“Tesoro, you can tell me anything. You know this.”

Copia has never given you a reason to distrust him, has never judged you or made you feel silly for any of your anxieties. Still, you struggle to put this into words.

“I don’t know. I’m just a little nervous, I guess?”

I sound so dumb.

“It’s okay to be nervous! Is this…”--he casts about for a tactful phrasing–”your first time?”

Satanas, it just gets worse and worse.

“No, it’s not my first time. But it’s been… awhile.”

“What’s the saying? Something about riding a bicycle?”

But in truth, it’s more than just the fact that it’s been awhile. Things did not end well with the last person you chose to share yourself with.

You’ve worked so hard to heal from that relationship, not reinventing yourself so much as peeling back layers of hurt, finding yourself again bit by bit. You’re better now. But even after all of that healing, after finding your place here with the Ministry, after the wonderful surprise of falling for Copia, the scars of the past have a way of lingering.

Maybe the deepest of those scars is the lingering suspicion that no matter what you do, no one will ever truly want you or love you again. And worse, that you can’t trust anyone who claims that they do.

“It’s just.. I’ve imagined this so many times, and I guess I’ve gotten a bit too in my head about it. Wanting it to be perfect. And I’m afraid of doing something wrong. Of not”--and here’s the heart of it, the scary, vulnerable thing that you don’t want to admit–“of not being good enough for you.”

And now you are crying, when all you wanted to do was fuck your boyfriend like a normal person.

“Oh, topina.” Copia pulls you close, rolling onto his back to nestle you snug against his chest. “How could you ever think that you’re not good enough?”

“But you could have anyone you want,” you sob.

“You flatter me,” Copia chuckles. “But say that is true. I can have anyone I want. And where am I right now?”

“Here?”

“Yes, here. And who am I with?”

You sniffle. “Me?”

“Yes, you. And there is no one else I would rather be with. You are so precious to me. I feel lucky to have you in my bed.”

Your heart flutters at his tender words.

“And what I want, more than anything, is to make you feel good. To give you the pleasure that you deserve.”

Something considerably lower flutters at that.

“Copia…”

You wriggle out of his grasp and pull yourself up onto one elbow, one hand resting lightly on his chest as you bend to kiss him again.

When you break away, he thumbs a stray tear from your cheek and insists, “But I only want to do that if you’re comfortable. So you have to tell me if something makes you uncomfortable, yes?”

You nod down at him. “Yes, Papa.”

He groans low in his throat at your cheeky use of his title, the sound stoking something low in your belly.

“You said that you have been thinking about this night for a long time, tesoro?”

His hand, resting against your hip, grips you tighter, drawing you closer against him. When he speaks, his words resonate with a note of command.

“Tell me what you’ve imagined. Tell me how to make this perfect for you.”

This should be mortifying. It should, more than anything else he’s said tonight, activate your urge to run away, to hide. It’s been so long since you’ve really given yourself permission to want, to desire, much less to voice those desires full-throated, absent of shame. You’re so afraid of sounding silly. Of being too much.

But you can tell how turned on he is by you, by the way that your body feels pressed against his, fuck, by the very thought of you entertaining filthy daydreams about him. He wants you. Just as much as you want him.

And so, you push past the shame you have no need to carry any longer, that you never should have been made to carry at all.

Even if you stammer at first. Even if you don’t sound as confident as you wish you did. You find your voice.

“I– I’ve thought about you touching me?”

Copia brings a hand up to caress your face, tracing a feather-light line from cheekbone to chin. “Here?” he asks.

“Lower,” you reply.

“Ah.” His hand trails lower, making you shiver as his fingers skirt along your neck, your collarbone, before finally cupping your breast through your top. “How about here?”

Your mouth falls open in a gasp when he squeezes gently, his thumb sweeping across your nipple. Almost as an afterthought he wedges one thigh between your legs. Even through fabric the contact sends a pulse straight to your core, and you can’t help but grind against him with a whimper.

“What do I do next? In your fantasies?”

“You take off my clothes.” You’re desperate to feel his skin on yours. “And– and you lay me down on the bed.”

He flips you over effortlessly and takes his time undressing you, carefully undoing each button and zipper, revealing your body bit by bit with utmost tenderness. When he hooks his fingers over the waistband of your panties and pulls the silky fabric down your hips, your legs, exposing you completely, he does so with what could never be mistaken for anything but reverence.

Your legs fall open naturally and Copia kneels between them, resting his hands on your thighs, awaiting instruction.

“And now?”

You know that you can have anything you want, but only if you ask for it.

It’s everything you can do to keep your voice steady when you say, barely above a whisper, “And then you go down on me.”

“With pleasure, amore.”

Copia settles himself between your thighs and presses a hand against your mound, firm and grounding, acclimating you to his touch before spreading your lips with skilled fingers and bringing his mouth down to meet your slit. He runs the flat of his tongue up through your slick folds, lapping up your arousal. When you look down at him, he meets your gaze and flicks his tongue over your clit, smirking when you blush and cry out in pleasure.

And then he begins his work in earnest.

You had imagined that it would be good, but your daydreams left you unprepared for this level of skill, for how he would relax into the task before him with a patient eagerness, savoring you, taking the time to bring you ever closer to your peak.

“Fingers,” you beg, barely coherent, “I need your fingers, please, please, Copia– oh!”

He finds your entrance and presses a finger inside of you, never losing the rhythm of his tongue tracing tight circles around your clit. You’re soaked, and it slides in and out with ease, and it feels so good to have any part of him inside of you, even before he pulls out and then presses back in with another digit, crooking his fingers up to find that spot deep inside of you, hitting it just so as he sucks your nub between his lips, and you’re crying out and twisting your fingers in his hair to pull him closer, and–

Your orgasm overtakes you ruthlessly, wave upon wave of pleasure breaking over you, leaving you a gasping, trembling mess in its wake. Copia crawls up your body to kiss you, letting you taste your own musky sweetness on his tongue.

“Do you want to hear what I’ve been thinking about?” he asks.

You’re unsure of your ability to speak, but you nod eagerly. You’ve never wanted to hear anything more.

“I’ve been thinking about your hands.”

“M-my hands?”

“Sì, your beautiful hands. And how good they would feel wrapped around me.”

How could you do anything in that moment but oblige, reaching down to free him from the confines of his red sweatpants. His cock springs free, what seems almost painfully hard, and you watch with satisfaction as you pump your fist up and down his thick length and pleasure nearly overtakes him. Eyes squeezed shut, he’s clearly struggling to hold back, to stop himself from rutting into your soft palm and coming right now.

“I’ve also been thinking about your pussy, dolcezza,” he pants. “How good it would taste. How pretty you would look playing with it for me. But mostly what it would feel like to spread it open and fuck it until you come around my cock.”

“Yes, please,” you beg, feeling as though you might die if you don’t get to feel him inside you right now.

The stretch is deliciously intense, even as wet as you are, prepared by his fingers and his tongue. He works himself into you inch by careful, patient inch, until he bottoms out with a groan.

“Is this okay?” he asks, and you nod your assent, whimpering a “yes” as you wrap your legs around his soft waist, urging him on.

You open more and more with each slow, shallow thrust that becomes faster, deeper. There is no room for your self-doubt anymore, no thought to spare for anything that isn’t Copia: his weight on top of you, his mouth against the side of your neck, the scent of his cologne mingling with the salty tang of sweat, the overwhelming pressure of his cock inside of you.

He murmurs your name with what sounds like wonder, like disbelief that you want this and that you feel so fucking good.

And then he rolls his hips just so, finding an angle that grinds his pelvis into your clit, making you cry out sharply.

“Just like that,” you beg him, breathless, “please don’t stop, please—“

And then you are coming apart again, your head thrown back and your pussy spasming beyond your control.

It’s almost too much for him. He rears back from you, gathering you more firmly in hand, tilting your hips up and gripping your ass to hold you in place as he fucks into you, hard and rough. You’re still reeling from your orgasm as his pace becomes erratic, desperate, and with a sharp snap of his hips his cock kicks inside of you, filling you utterly.

He pulls out and collapses beside you with a sated groan, forearm thrown over his eyes as he comes down, chest heaving, spent cock softening against the curve of his belly. You fold yourself in under his arm, head pillowed against his chest again in a semblance of how you lay earlier as you cried. But now all you feel is love, comfort, and the pleasant soreness creeping through your lower body.

“Well, tesoro…” He settles his arm around you, tracing lazy circles on your skin with the tip of his finger. His voice is unspeakably fond when he asks, “Was that everything you imagined?”

It wasn’t, of course. Your daydreams hadn’t started with you crying awkwardly in his arms. In your daydreams, everything had run as smoothly as a scene in a novel, you the assertive heroine who always knew exactly what to say, without any help.

But maybe, you think, if Copia is the one helping you, that’s okay. Maybe you don’t need to be anyone but yourself, sometimes awkward and insecure, but no less beloved.

And so you are telling the truth when you say, “No. It was better.”

#my writing #lib ghoulette writes #copia x reader #papa iv x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #ghost band fanfic #ghost band fanfiction #the band ghost #why was editing this as stressful as landing a plane?#proud of myself #also I promise not all my stuff will be this sweet #papa emeritus iv fanfiction

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