#Squid game the salesman

[megangovier]

This is amazing, loving the series! @dyingswanpavlova 🤍🫶🏻

"Your girl" - Part 12 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: Things have changed between you. But you can't even tell how much.

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening, mentions of blood, mentions of murder/gore/death, body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation and low self-esteem, mentions of sexual activities, loss of identity, mentions of pregnancy, not beta-read, if I've missed any warnings or tags please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

You couldn’t tell what caused his change of heart, but you surely wouldn’t complain. Or be the first one to speak. Maybe, just maybe, your pride wasn't all dead yet.

By the time the door was pulled open, you needed a moment for your eyes to adjust to the light that flooded the cramped space. Again, you couldn’t tell how long you had been in there. A few hours? A day? Longer?

All you knew was that you were starving and your bladder hurt like hell.

And somehow you didn’t care.

You didn’t care about anything actually.

The time you spent in the darkness of the wardrobe, pressed against the wall like a caged animal, had served you to think about the mess you found yourself in. A part of you was still relieved that he didn’t kill you. Another part was strangely disappointed, angry even, that he doubted you in the first place.

You didn’t try to leave. And he didn’t believe you.

But what took far more space up in your mind, was the memory of what you said to him.

I love you.

I love you?

Were you out of your goddamn mind?

Surely, it must have been some desperate attempt to manipulate him into caring, so that he would let go. Surely. Surely.

But a part of you knew that was not the truth.

He had his hands wrapped around your neck, ready to end your life then and there and all you cared to say was I love you?

You felt…betrayed. You had betrayed yourself yet again.

Didn’t you possess any semblance of dignity? Of self-worth? Of anything of which you thought that it made you you?

But before you had the time to get even angrier at yourself, he opened the door.

You blinked slowly and looked up at him. It wasn’t the prettiest sight for sure. Your eyes were red and swollen, your face puffy. Dark marks in the form on his slender fingers decorated your neck. A constant reminder of the pain you were in, the danger. Your body was covered in marks and bruises. Like you were a blank canvas and he was a cruel, deranged artist.

You looked at him, but he didn’t look at you. He didn’t even say anything. All he did was stand there, his hand clutching the door handle tightly. You could tell he was still tense, still furious to some degree. This was far from over.

A stronger version of yourself would have tried to talk to him. To convince him. To beg him to believe you, because it was the fucking truth.

You didn’t try to leave. How could he not see it?

But instead, you carefully got to your feet. Your legs felt weak and shaky, from sitting in your kneeling position for so long. You held onto the wall and slowly stumbled out, into your room. Nothing had changed. A look out of the useless window showed you that it was getting dark outside. A day, then. It had been a day.

You sighed very softly and ran your fingers through the knots in your hair. All you wanted was a bath and a good night’s sleep. But you knew that was probably a very distant thought. Something had shifted between you, you could tell.

You didn’t get to tease him anymore, he wasn’t going to read to you either. You were back to playing games and walking on eggshells. You were back in the fangs of the evil twin.

As if to prove his point, he led you out of your room and into the bathroom, his hand hovering above the small of your back, but not quite touching you.

And then your biggest nightmare.

There was no fucking door.

Your eyes widened and your lips parted in a horrified, and yet oh-so exhausted, gasp. A part of you wanted to beg, still. At least for a tiny bit of dignity. The tiniest bit of being allowed to feel like a human being. But no. That was not what you were, right?

When he pointed to the chair in the middle of the room, you knew you weren’t human anymore.

You were a godforsaken Young-hee doll.

You looked up at him with pleading eyes, despite yourself. Despite the tiny, defiant gleam in your chest. But he still wasn’t looking at you. And suddenly you knew no amount of pleading would ever help you anyway.

You wanted to cry. You really did. But at some point in the wardrobe you had your tears run dry and they hadn’t returned ever since. There was only so much a person could cry, right?

With slow, hesitant steps you finally found your place on the chair. Your eyes were fixed on the hole in the wall where once the door had been. You asked yourself what gracious surprises were there more, waiting for you, waiting to be discovered and dreaded.

When he took your wrists in his hand and tied them together with a tight knot in a tie of his, you didn’t protest. All you did was stare straight ahead.

He needed to do this. He needed to prove to you, to himself maybe, that you were nothing. Just like he had said to you, right before you straddled him and took control of the situation in the morning. You were nothing.

Nothing, nothing, nothing at all.

But his hands were gentle. He wasn’t being cruel or forceful about it. You couldn’t tell if that was, because you were being so compliant or if there was another reason. Whatever it was, he was really gentle. Almost ridiculously so.

When you saw him reach for the pair of scissors, you closed your eyes. You really didn’t want to see it. See, what amount of hair would have to go today. In his eyes, you had tried to escape, right? But as much as you tried to tell yourself that, you were sure, he was punishing you for something else. You just couldn’t tell what it was.

“No.” He said quietly. “Open your eyes.”

Despite the way your body begged you to keep your eyes shut, you reluctantly opened them. Of course. Right in front of the fucking mirror. A crazy man and his clueless victim.

If only you had fled.

Why didn’t you? You couldn’t stop asking yourself. Why didn’t you?

And he still wasn’t looking at you.

That was probably the worst part. You felt you were in so much pain, so much horror and he couldn’t even bring himself to look at you? Was this part of the punishment?

You looked up at his face, your expression a mixture of desperation and pleading. And anger. But he never looked up. Never met your gaze. And still, you were sure, he saw you.

He kept his jaw clenched, his fingers clutching the scissors tightly.

Maybe he wasn’t even going to cut it off. Maybe he’d stab and cut you to death. Watch you bleed for his own entertainment and amusement. Maybe this was all you were to him. A cheap entertainment.

He didn’t care about your trauma, did he? Back when you told him about it. Back when you felt you nearly died, talking about it. Back then, you believed it was for some greater cause. To be his. To be free. To be at all.

Now you were sure it was all for nothing.

He took a slow breath, as if to steel himself, but then he didn’t hesitate. The sound and sight of your hair being cut off was like the final blow to your chest you needed to lose yourself entirely.

Again, he didn’t cut off an atrocious amount. You didn’t look like the scary doll yet.

But this time, he cut off double the amount he did last time. And that was nearly a third of your hair.

A few moments ago, you had been so sure that all your tears had dried out, but now you were certain they had not. The slight quiver of your lip was the warning of what was to come, right before your vision was blurred by tears. Your shoulders and your hands were shaking by the sheer pressure you applied on yourself in order not to sob.

He felt it. He wasn’t an idiot. Of course he felt it. But he still didn’t look at you.

And yet, for the tiniest, briefest moment, you were sure, you saw him hesitate.

But that didn’t stop him. He kept cutting the strands precisely and carefully, with a gentleness that was almost mocking you.

He didn’t stop until your hair decorated the floor like a silky carpet. And you felt something inside of you break. It didn’t come at once. It came slowly and stealthily. But you could practically watch in the mirror as the gleam in your eyes faded.

Who were you now? Hana, maybe?

His girl? No. The thought made your stomach churn.

His captive. You were his captive. No more and no less.

And you were sure, that was exactly what he felt as well.

The next few days passed in silence. Neither of you spoke a word to each other. He didn’t yell at you or order you around. You got to sleep in your own bed and he didn’t even try once to approach you. It was a quiet co-existence. You barely spent any time in the same room, unless it was to eat. And even then, most times he had the decency to inform you of the fact that the food was ready and then he’d leave you to it.

He'd go to work in the afternoons and come back in the middle of the night, like he usually did. He only subtly checked out if you were still there.

As if you could just go anywhere else.

But he didn’t speak.

And Hell, you were sure, you weren’t ever going to say another word to him.

The only thing that did change were the missing doors. There were no doors, except for the front door and the one in his bedroom. Of course he got to keep his fucking door. After all, it wasn’t him who got punished.

Despite it all, you found yourself longing. Thinking back to the times you had slept in his bed, felt his breath tickle your neck. The way his arms wrapped around you from behind protectively and pulled you closer to him. The way he kissed your forehead and called you sweetness.

And despite yourself, you were desperate to feel him again. Never in your life before had you ever felt this lonely. So touch-starved. So needy to be with another person. To be with him.

But you knew that was not an option. You had no idea what the situation between you was. You just knew that you hated him.

You hated him for almost killing you, for cutting off your hair. For removing all the doors and for ignoring you.

But you hated him the most, because he didn’t believe you, when you said you didn’t try to leave.

You would have understood his need to punish you, if you truly tried to leave. After all, yes, he informed you of the consequences, right? But, for God’s sake, you didn’t try to leave.

Maybe he was punishing you for the man and the way he looked at you. Like you were some beaten puppy. He had to kill him, right? If he didn’t, you were sure, the police would have flooded the apartment within the next hour.

You almost understood his motives.

And that was what scared you the most.

You tossed and turned that night, unable to find a wink of sleep. He came home later than usual and you found yourself worrying. Had something happened? Or did he finally decide to abandon you?

Maybe he’d come back when he was sure there was no more left of you than a corpse, starved to death. Or maybe he wouldn’t ever come back.

Maybe he found another obsession.

With an annoyed sigh you turned on your back and kicked the blanket away. The jealousy almost ate you up. You ran your hands through your hair and paused when you felt how it was shorter than before. Every time you felt that, you took a moment to remember it. That horrible day. It had taken so much from you. All you actually wanted was to go back in time and for things to be the way they were before. Not before he abducted you. Before that fight, before that scene. Back when he called you my love.

You sighed again and sat up in frustration. The moment you heard the door open, you exhaled in relief. He hadn’t abandoned you. And you felt bad for even thinking he would. But was it truly that unlikely?

You listened to the sounds of him coming back and going about his nightly routine. Everything stayed the same. You heard it all the better, since you had no damn door. You groaned and buried your face in the pillow. He wouldn’t approach you. He hadn’t done so in days.

He wouldn’t hold you. Wouldn’t kiss you. He was no more than a ghost in your book. Or maybe you were the ghost. You had no past, no family, nothing. All you had was him and even that seemed pretty uncertain for now.

You squeezed your eyes shut and hoped you would eventually find some sleep. The sounds of his footsteps and the microwave were like a soothing lullaby and soon you were slowly drifting off to sleep. Exhaustion got the better of you, though you didn’t really understand what exhausted you so. All you did was wander these halls, eat, sleep and read a few pages of a book every now and then.

God, your days were so empty without him.

You would have even preferred to play one of his crazy mind games. Yes, you’d even prefer him to get physical with you. At least that would have required some kind of intimacy. A slap sounded just delightful in that moment. At least he’d touch you then. Look at you. And speak to you.

You were already half-asleep, so you didn’t really hear when his footsteps approached your room. Or maybe, if you heard, you told yourself it was wishful thinking. After all, why would he come here? It was the middle of the night and you were still firmly ignoring each other. Maybe it was better that way. That way you didn’t get the chance to anger him further. Maybe that way, you’d get to keep some of your hair.

No. He had no reason to come close. But he still did.

He stood in the doorway of your room, where once a door had been and leaned against the frame. His arms were crossed and he stared down at your unmoving form. He didn’t make a sound as he stood there. A small frown on his face revealed how thoughtful he truly was and how hard it was for him to hold back. There was obviously something he wanted.

You, probably.

None of this. Whenever you were in the same room, he had this cold, this calm and collected air around him, like he truly didn’t need you. Which he obviously didn’t. After all, he almost killed you.

But in that moment he had trouble hiding it. And he was probably grateful that you didn’t sense his presence behind you. He did that sometimes. He used these soft and peaceful moments to watch over you and make sure you were still there. After all, you didn’t speak. He had to make sure that you were still well and alive somehow.

But that night was different. That night the pull was far more intense than it usually was. He sighed very softly and looked down at the blister in his hand. Only four were missing. Four of twenty-eight tiny pills.

Four days in which you took the active decision against whatever the hell that was between you. It was essential to keep consequences out of the way.

But only for four days. And now, it was the eleventh day, but only four were missing. He stared down firmly at it, before he took a step closer and carefully placed the blister down on your nightstand. With another slow step he took, he hovered right above you. You looked so incredibly peaceful. He tilted his head to the side and watched you with the same, thoughtful frown. With a slow breath that he released, he reached out a hand. It hovered right above your face, his knuckles ready to push your hair back and caress your cheek. You were still so beautiful. He knew the hair had probably broken your heart. He had seen the look in your eyes, the silent tears and the way you struggled to look at him ever since. But couldn’t you see that you were still so incredibly beautiful, so exquisite? That no amount of hair lost, that no scar or mark could ever corrupt your undying beauty?

His frown deepened. And after a breath, he pulled his hand away.

He was already about to pull back and leave, when you shifted. You were obviously deep asleep, mumbling to yourself and sighing against the pillow. Your shirt rode up the tiniest bit and it revealed the skin of your waist. He clenched his jaw. Of course he felt the familiar feeling of desire stir in the pit of his stomach. But, no. Not like this. Not ever.

Not, when you couldn’t even look at him.

The sight of your waist also stirred something else in him. The indescribable urge to murder. To murder the man who once murdered your innocence. What a coward he was. To die, before he got to put his hands on him. Gutless.

He reached for the blanket, ready to wrap it around you, when his gaze wandered to your stomach for a moment. Another feeling took hold of him, far more intense than any carnal desire ever could.

His frown deepened even more and he reached out a hand, but this time he didn’t hesitate to touch you. His fingers rested on the soft, sensitive skin of your belly. You stirred, but only for a short moment. He wasn’t afraid you’d wake up. His thoughts were running rampage and he was too focused on the image in his head. The soft curve of your belly, the life that would possibly grow inside you one day. His life. His flesh and blood.

His.

Maybe it was already there. Who could tell? He had only then found the blister. But you seemed to know for what were seven days now.

His frown didn’t falter as his gaze wandered up and down your form. He exhaled a soft sigh and tilted his head down, resting his forehead against your back. He closed his eyes and bit his lip to keep himself from doing anything more.

You hadn’t spoken in days. He couldn’t just wake you up and demand whatever the hell. Even he knew that. But he still had to hold himself back forcefully. The feel of you, the smell of your skin, it drove him wild.

He hummed softly and leaned closer, close enough to press a soft, lingering kiss against the bare skin of your belly. You stirred again and mumbled something inaudible. He took it that was his cue to leave. With a soft sigh he got up and made his way back to the doorframe. He looked back at you once more, before he left the room.

Only four days. Huh.

You truly were his girl.

_______________________________

Tag list 1:

@mitsuki-dreamfree @kpopsmutty69 @heroine-chique @vkeyy @mizuwki @blu-brrys @z0mbi345 @yourpointbreak @ayieayee @freddyzeppsworld @lola11111111 @indifitel6661 @salesmanlover08 @laurenbenoit70 @lalalaa2210 @lila-marshal @auspicious-lilana @0-aubrie0 @lovelyaegyo @theredvelvetbitch @violentbluess @muriels-lover @dorayakissu @eviebuggg @muchwita @ririgy @strxlemon @obsessedwthdilfs @kiwilov3 @misty-q

Thank you @muriels-lover for the lovely request! I loved it so much and I hope it's approximately the thing you had in mind! And also, I have your other request in the back of my mind still, don't worry, I loved that one as well!

I love you all! SO much! And I'm still working on answering all your sweet messages (which continue making me tear up, in case you didn't know!)

[thethievingmagpie]

| THE RECRUITER | SPIN-OFF TRAILER | Trailer made by The Thieving Magpie

[greengoblinswifey]

Sweet Revenge—Salesman x Fem!Reader

summary— A heated argument with the salesman, the smug Squid Game recruiter, turns into a rough and unexpected night of fucking, leaving you questioning your entire life choices.

warnings— enemies to lovers, arguing, fingering, degradation, praise kink, face slapping, choking, hair pulling, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, slight aftercare.

The knock on the hotel door was loud and sharp. The Salesman, ever composed, adjusted his tie before opening it, expecting room service instead, he found you.

You stood there, furious, with a fire in your eyes that caught him off guard. “You didn’t think I’d fucking find you, did you?” you spat, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

He closed the door calmly, his lips curling into that infuriating smirk. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious about what brought you here.”

“You know exactly why I’m here,” you hissed, looking up at him. “You ruined lives. Mine included. I want answers.”

He tilted his head, his expression as unreadable as usual. “I gave you a choice, didn’t I? Everyone who plays has a choice.”

“Don’t give me that shit. You knew what you were doing. You preyed on desperate people. And now, you’re going to pay for it,” you snapped, hands clenched into fists.

His laugh was low and soft, infuriatingly amused. “And how exactly do you plan to make me pay?”

Your breath hitched as he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “B-by holding you accountable,” you managed, though your voice wavered.

“If that’s what you want, then go ahead. But something tells me this isn’t just about revenge,” he leaned down, his voice a murmur.

You hated how his confidence pissed you off, how his piercing gaze seemed to strip you naked. You hated how cocky he was.

“Stop fucking playing games,” you demanded.

“But sweetheart, games are what I do best,” he replied, his smirk deepening. “Tell me, are you here to hurt me or for something else?”

You hated him. You hated his arrogance, his calm demeanor, the way he seemed untouchable. But more than that, you hated the way he looked at you, like he knew exactly how much power he had over you.

“Shut up,” you snapped, grabbing his tie and pulling him down to your level. His eyes widened just slightly before his smirk returned. “No more games. No more excuses. You don’t get to control this anymore.”

For a moment, he seemed to consider your words. Then, in one swift motion, he closed the space between you, his lips capturing yours. It was fierce and unrelenting, a battle for control neither of you wanted to lose. You shoved him back, your chest heaving as you glared at him. “You think this fixes everything?”

“No,” he said, his eyes darkening. “But I think you’re acting like a bitch because you haven’t been properly fucked.”

His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as your resistance faltered. You hated him, truly, deeply hated him. But your body betrayed you, melting into his touch, craving more of what you couldn’t admit you wanted.

The kiss was so hot, igniting a storm of emotions you couldn’t tame. His lips moved against yours with a roughness that made your head spin. You pressed closer, your fingers tangling in his neatly styled hair, ruining the composure he seemed to hold onto so tightly.

But he wasn’t just kissing you, the asshole was claiming you. His hands roamed with purpose, sliding down your back before gripping your ass firmly. Then, his fingers hiked your dress higher.

The sound of fabric tearing ripped through the air, and you gasped, pulling back just enough to glare at him. “What the fuck?”

He smirked, holding up the remnants of your thong like a trophy. “Who did you wear this for?”

“Shut up,” you shot back, your voice trembling with frustration and something else.

“Oh, I see,” he murmured, leaning closer. “You wore it for me, didn’t you? My desperate little slut couldn’t help herself.”

Before you could retort, his hand slid between your thighs, rough fingers finding your pussy. You gasped again, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he thrust two fingers inside without warning.

“Motherfuck—”

“Quiet,” he commanded, his. “You’ll take what I give you like the slut you are. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

His fingers moved in sharp, unrelenting thrusts, each movement pushing you closer to the edge. “You’re such a mess,” he taunted, his other hand gripping your throat to make you look at him. “All this attitude, and for what? You’ve been waiting for me to just ruin you, haven’t you?”

You bit your lip, refusing to answer, but your body betrayed you, drenching his fingers and fluttering around them. He chuckled, clearly pleased by your reaction.

“Come on,” he taunted, his thrusts quickening. “Let me hear you say it slut. Tell me how badly you wanted this.”

“Fuck, I—” your words broke with a moan, unable to fight the pleasure building inside you.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

“Fine!” you cried out, your resolve crumbling. “I wanted it, okay? I wanted this!”

“Good girl,” he murmured, a satisfied smirk on his face. His fingers moved impossibly faster, pushing you right to the brink. “Now, don’t hold back. Let me see you cum.”

And unfortunately, you did. Your body shook as the coil snapped, waves of pleasure crashing over you. He didn’t stop, drawing out every last tremor until you were left trembling in his arms.

When you finally caught your breath, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your neck. “That’s my good fucking slut,” he whispered.

You lifted your palm and the moment your hand connected with his face, the sound of the slap echoed in the room. His head tilted slightly from the force, but the reaction wasn’t what you expected. The salesman didn’t look angry. Nah, he looked, amused?

A dark chuckle left his lips, and his gaze locked with yours, sharp. “Again,” he said, his voice taunting.

Your chest heaved with frustration, your fingers trembling, but you raised your hand and slapped him again. This time, the impact left a faint flush on his cheek. He didn’t flinch. Instead, he smirked, that expression driving you to the edge.

“Feel better now?” he teased, his tone filled with mockery.

“Go to hell,” you spat, but before you could say more, he grabbed your wrist and spun you around with little effort.

“Careful,” he murmured against your ear as he pushed you onto the bed, your stomach pressing into the mattress. His weight settled over you, keeping you firmly in place. “You might make me think you enjoy this.”

Your breath hitched as you felt the press of his bulge against you. The sound of his belt unbuckling sent a jolt of anticipation through your body, though you refused to let him see it.

“Don’t even,” you warned, your voice trembling as you turned your head slightly to glare at him.

“Still talking back,” he muttered, his hands gripping your hips firmly. “I’m going to ruin that little pussy of yours.”

“You’re so full of—”

Before you could finish, he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. “Go ahead,” he growled. “Say something else. Curse me out. I love it”

“Fuck you jackass,” you hissed, trying to wriggle free, but his grip only tightened.

“Good girl,” he mocked, his voice dripping with amusement. “You’re so predictable. So easy to rile up. But I know what you really want.”

“You don’t know anything,” you snapped, but your defiance faltered when he pushed against you harder, his body flush against yours.

“You’re shaking,” he whispered. “Is it fear or excitement? Maybe both?”

Your heart raced and you shuddered as he pressed a kiss to the back of your neck. “Don’t fight it, sweetheart. You and I both know this is exactly what you were begging for.”

He didn’t wait any longer. His hands gripped your hips firmly, pulling you back on his hard cock as he pushed forward. The sound of his sharp intake of breath filled the air as he settled into a rhythm, steady at first but quickly turning into thrusts that were rough and relentless.

“You fucking feel that?” he murmured. “This is what your little pussy has been begging for, isn’t it?”

Your breath hitched, your fingers curling into the bedsheets. “I—” you tried to protest, but the words stuck in your throat as he fucked you faster, each thrust sending a spark of pleasure up your spine.

“You can’t even speak,” he mocked, a dark chuckle vibrating against the back of your neck as he leaned down. “What happened to all that attitude, huh?”

“Shut up,” you hissed, trying to hold on to some semblance of control, but the way he pounded you, relentless, purposeful, was breaking you down.

“Oh no, sweetheart,” he said as he pressed kisses along your neck, his teeth grazing your skin making you shiver. “You’re not in charge anymore. You’re mine. My slut.”

Your defiance wavered as a moan slipped from your lips, louder than you intended. His hand slid around your waist, pressing against your lower stomach, holding you steady as he angled his cock deeper.

“That’s it,” he growled. “Good girl. Taking my dick so well.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, the pleasure overwhelming as he kept his pace steady but unforgiving. “F-fuck,” you breathed, your voice shaking.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he teased, his lips brushing against your ear. “You want more? Say it.”

Your pride battled with your desire, but the way he stretched your pussy, the way he spoke to you, it was too much. “Yes,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper. “Harder.”

“I didn’t hear you,” he said, a smirk evident in his voice.

“Harder!” you cried out, your hands gripping the sheets as he complied, his thrusts turning harder, deeper.

“There she is,” he murmured, his lips trailing kisses down your neck, his free hand tangling in your curls. “That’s my slut. So pretty like this, falling apart for me.”

“I—I can’t!” you cried, your body betrayed you, your legs trembling as he pushed you closer to the edge.

“Yes, you can,” he encouraged, his tone softening just slightly. “Give it to me. I want to feel you cum.”

And then it happened. A surge of bliss so overwhelming it left you a moaning mess, your body trembling beneath him as you soaked the sheets and his cock. He moaned deeply, his movements faltering as he chased his own orgasm.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice low and breathless as he kissed the back of your neck, holding you close as he came, ropes and ropes of his cum spilling into you.

The room fell silent except for the sound of your ragged breaths, and as he finally emptied every drop of cum in you, he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. “You were perfect,” he murmured, his hand stroking your back as he pulled you into his arms, his lips brushing against your forehead.

What the hell had just happened? What did you just do? You’d crossed a line, broke a boundary you didn’t even realize existed until now.

“Fuck you,” you muttered, your voice filled with embarrassment and disbelief.

The salesman only chuckled as his fingers gently traced circles along your bare skin. “That’s not what you were saying a few minutes ago,” he teased.

You scoffed, covering your face with your hands as if that would erase what just happened, or his cum still swirling in your pussy. “Oh my God,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him. “What the fuck did I just do?”

He pulled back slightly to turn you toward him. His eyes were dark but warm, his smirk still in place as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “You lived a little,” he said, his voice gentler now. “And let me tell you—you can take dick.”

You glared at him, though the effect was dulled by the way your body heated up. “Shut up,” you snapped, shoving at his chest weakly.

He only laughed, pulling you tighter against him. “You’ll thank me later,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You lay there in his arms, your mind racing as the reality of what just happened settled over you. How had you let this happen? How had he managed to get under your skin like this? The weight of what you’d just done was impossible to ignore, but as he held you close, his steady presence and casual confidence made it hard to fully regret it, no matter how much you wanted to.

[melminli]

Dirty Cash (Money Talks)

summary - you had nothing against your colleague, but you weren't stupid enough to be fooled by his innocent smile and appearance since you knew exactly what kind of corrupt person was hiding behind that costume. after all, you were wearing the same one.

pairing: (gong yoo/ji-cheol) the salesman x fem. recruiter reader

word count: 1.4k

contains: talk about gambling + death and murder, sexual tension?, crack and just evil morals tbh

a/n: i watched maybe the first fifteen minutes or so of bullet train, but i thought of the two funny dudes from it while writing this bcuz their dynamic was funny af. also, i will use the actor's name in this fic since the character itself doesn't really have an official one that was mentioned in the series!

You straightened your tie with your free hand while watching your train approach from the side. The station was always pretty empty at this hour, which saved you the jostling and squeezing as you entered. After that, you sat down comfortably with a light sigh - next to the free seat beside your devilishly handsome colleague. “Are you alright? Don't tell me that you had a exhausting day?” he asked you worriedly with his typical innocent smile on his face but you've known the guy for a while now and you knew exactly how dishonest he sounded right now.

You returned his gaze for a second, uninterested, before turning it back in front of you to observe your surroundings from the window. “Exhausting day? Don't make fun of me or I'll punch you in the face,” you replied monotone and Gong Yoo didn't doubt your statement for a second - or Ji-cheol as you preferred to call him since you weren't a big fan of nicknames. “I had a great time punching those bastards in the face one by one. It feels kinda therapeutic, so I'm actually feeling pretty good right now,” you told him, talking about the subject as if you were talking about the weather.

Your colleague grunted with delight at your good news. “And I would never disagree with you on that.” he said and then just watched your figure silently for a while before speaking up again. “Since you're in such a good mood, would you be willing to play a more private game between the two of us?” he suggested, making you look at him in utter disbelief.

“A private game? With you?” you repeated, amused and laughed in his face. “Hell, no. But don't worry, I'll let you know next time I want to get totally screwed by a freaky pervert,” you added, your voice dripping with sarcasm. Which will be, never.

“Come on, don't be like that,” he asked you sweetly. As sweet as the wolf who pretended to be the mother of the seven little goats before he ate them all one by one. “It's just a tiny, harmless game. It's been so long since we've played anything together.” he complained to you earnestly as if you actually cared, and you didn't.

Yeah, you remembered the last time very clearly, even if you would much rather prefer that you didn't. You hummed. “Is that so? Huh. I mean, it could be because you almost killed me in a fucking game of tic-tac-toe the last time, but that's just a theory.” You said with a shrug, clearly still resenting him for that. However, he just rolled his eyes unaffected by your grudge. “But you didn't, right? It was the other guy who got the bullet in his head.” He replied, not even remembering his name. Not that he had to.

You just glared at him while you rubbed your forehead. “Yeah, maybe. But I'm tired of risking my life just because it makes you horny and you can jerk off to it.” You made your feelings on the matter clear. “You know that the whole living on the edge of death thing isn't really my cup of tea. At least try to understand me a bit here, too.”

I suppose she's not entirely wrong, I could give it a try. I never thought about it like that before, did I? He thought to himself in his head as he ran his tongue over the back of his teeth while he pondered. How selfish of me. “So what exactly do I have to do, to convince you?” He asked you while he already had a few ideas in mind.

You grinned. “You know that very well, don't play dumb.” You demanded as you leaned closer to him so that he could hear what you were singing softly. “Money talks, money talks - dirty cash, I want you, and dirty cash, I need you, oh ~”

He raised an eyebrow, not particularly surprised. “So you want to play for money?” He repeated it, not outright rejecting your request. “Don't you have enough of that already? You're really insatiable when it comes to cash and now you want mine, too?” he joked just to get you worked up.

Though, you didn't get the slightest bit offended by what he said. “Can you ever have enough money? Besides, I'm not forcing you to give it to me, am I?” you said with a smile, already knowing that he would agree to your terms. “But if you want me to play with you, I want eight million won for every round I win.”

She's so greedy for someone who is already more than wealthy. “Aren't you exaggerating a bit? Most people don't earn that much in a month,” he continued his act of - whatever this was - because he just loved arguing with you.

“So? We both have the same salary, I know you can afford it,” you said, holding a hand in the air as soon as you felt that he wanted to stretch this unnecessary conversation even more. “You have to decide now what you want to do or I withdraw my proposal again.”

Gong Yoo closed his mouth and started grinning even wider. “You don't even want to know what kind of game I want to play?” he asked curiously, nodding and accepting whatever you wanted as soon as he saw that you actually weren't interested. You couldn't even imagine how gladly he gave in to you at this moment. “All right, I agree with your request.”

You stood up with your briefcase in hand after your station was announced. “Good. Text me when you have something in mind, I'll be there as long as it fits timewise.”

Your colleague continued to watch you with a look on his face that used to make you more than just uncomfortable back in the day - though, it didn't even bother you in the slightest now. “You don't want to accompany me to the...office?”

You smiled while the train started to slow down. “Au revoir, Ji-cheol.” you just said your goodbye to him and stepped out of the doors. You didn't even spare the poor guy a second glance when he waved his hand at you from the window. She can be so heartless sometimes, he thought to himself, even if you were like this pretty much all the time. I'll have to think of something good to ask for in return should I win. I'm definitely not going to hold back when there's this much money at stake.

You didn't give a second thought to anything as you made your way home after a day's work like any normal citizen would do. However, your steps slowed considerably when you noticed a beggar in your field of vision and even though the rest of the crowd ignored the man and his entire existence, you couldn't help but focus your full attention on him. You looked at your watch, I've been off work for a while now. But even then, you couldn't help but notice that he was one of the people on your list to recruit for the game. He'll still be here tomorrow, but I don't mind another round of Ddakji. I love money more than anything - but I'm not doing this job for only that.

“Excuse me,” you spoke to the man with a polite smile on your face, and he only submissively avoided your gaze as he listened to you. After all, one rarely approached people like him and why would they? He held his cup of loose change out in front of him, probably expecting you to give him a small donation, but you wanted to give him so much more than that. Even if the guy didn't know it right now - you wanted to give him another chance in life, so that he wouldn't continue to be just a miserable failure.

You ignored his donation cup. “I was wondering if you might have a moment because I'd like to make you an offer,” you continued politely and the man met your gaze at that. Yeah, you were really looking forward to what was about to happen - after all, you were known for letting your opponent only win if you allowed them to.

[fear-is-truth]

𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝! 𝓢𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐍 . . . headcanons

݁˖ 𐙚 a/n. ۫ i need to be his housewife..

husband!salesman, who keeps his true profession hidden from you, presenting himself as a hardworking, white-collar office worker. he always has a perfectly rehearsed story about late nights at work or business trips, and you’ve never had a reason to doubt him.

husband!salesman, who can effortlessly shift between his calculating persona and the role of a loving, normal husband, a skill honed from years of manipulating people. he uses this charm to seamlessly blend into domestic life, convincing everyone—neighbors, friends, even you—that he’s just a hardworking, devoted family man.

husband!salesman, who has a soft spot for your cooking and always compliments it, even if it’s a simple dish. he jokingly says he only survives long workdays because he knows he’ll come home to your food. sometimes, you catch him sneaking bites straight from the pot.

husband!salesman, who never misses family meals, even when “work” keeps him late. he’ll call ahead to let you know, then heat up leftovers when he gets home, sitting at the table with you to chat about your day while you keep him company.

husband!salesman, who makes an effort to surprise you with small, thoughtful gestures. whether it’s bringing home your favourite street food after work or surprising you with flowers from the local market.

husband!salesman, who has a way of spoiling you without making it feel like a show. he’s well-off because of his job, so when he hands you a generous allowance or a piece of jewellery, it’s done so naturally—he loves providing for you, and you never have to ask.

husband!salesman, who is a total girl dad, absolutely smitten with your two daughters. he dotes on them endlessly, and has a special knack for making them laugh with exaggerated reactions and silly voices, despite his usually reserved nature.

husband!salesman, who always remembers anniversaries, white day, and other special occasions. he arranges for a babysitter to watch the kids, then takes you out to an upscale restaurant, where the two of you enjoy a quiet candlelit dinner.

husband!salesman, who is a fair parent. he makes sure both girls get equal attention and never plays favourites. if one gets a new toy, the other gets one too. he often comes home from “work” with two of everything—candy, stickers, or toys—earning excited squeals and hugs as a welcome home.

husband!salesman, who is the epitome of patience and understanding when it comes to parenting. when the girls argue or misbehave, he sits them down and calmly explains why their behaviour was wrong, ensuring they understand.

husband!salesman, who insists on walking you and the girls to school or daycare when his schedule allows. he carries their bags, holds their hands, and always kneels down to give them a final hug and kiss goodbye, reminding them to be good for you.

husband!salesman, who takes the time to read bedtime stories to your daughters. unbeknownst to you, the folktales he chooses often have a slightly dark twist—cautionary tales about greed, betrayal, or the consequences of foolishness.

husband!salesman, who often initiates moments of closeness, even in a busy household—a soft kiss on the back of your neck while you’re cooking, or tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear as you fold laundry, he finds has his ways to remind you that you’re still his priority.

husband!salesman, who unwinds once the girls are tucked in, he joins you on the couch with a cup of tea or a glass of soju in hand, listening intently as you recount your day.

husband!salesman, who enjoys settling beside you in bed as you start a k-drama, his arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you close. you lean into his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath as his fingers trace circles on your back.

husband!salesman, who holds you close at night, arm draped around your waist as he sleeps. even in his unconscious state, he finds comfort in your presence, his grip tightening ever so slightly when you stir.

husband!salesman, who expects a level of perfection and discipline in his household, partly because of his “work ethic” and partly because he believes it reflects the success he’s worked so hard for. he never raises his voice, but a single look is enough to make the girls behave—or anyone else for that matter.

husband!salesman, who does his best to keep his darker side hidden from you, but you sometimes notice the faraway look in his eyes. when you ask if he’s okay, he always smiles warmly and reassures you with a kiss.

husband!salesman, who told you early in your relationship that his father died from an illness when he was younger. it was a carefully crafted lie to keep his darker past buried.

husband!salesman, who ensures your daughters are well-educated and polite, reflecting his high standards. he helps them with homework, encouraging them to excel.

husband!salesman, who has already set up college funds for your daughters, starting them as soon as they were born.

husband!salesman, who treasures family outings. he takes you and the girls to the han river for picnics, amusement parks, and trips to traditional markets.

husband!salesman, who takes home security very seriously, investing in the best systems available. the house is equipped with top-of-the-line cameras, motion sensors, and alarms, all linked to his phone so he can monitor everything, even when he’s not at home. your family’s safety is his priority, no matter the cost.

husband!salesman, who has zero guilt about his double life, especially when he sees your innocent trust or his daughters’ pure adoration. he tells himself it’s all for them, justifying the blood on his hands with the happiness of his family.

husband!salesman, who is ruthless in his profession but draws a strict line between that part of his life and his family. he sees his success—and the life he’s built with you and the girls—as something he’s earned. the people who had to die for it? trash, utterly useless in this world. he never loses sleep over them.

[chilkookiepal]

Man In Suits

(Salesman x female!reader)

Summary:: you come across a stranger twice before agreeing to a game , you win big but what of the losses you take at unclarified stakes

warnings ! age gap ,stalking ,manipulation,mentions of married saleman ,detailed smut scenes, violence , there's more to come so i will edit this part<3

MNDI!

Part 2

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He is a nameless man but he knows you, he did his homework and so he knows all there is to know of you

YN LN

Age 22

Born to immigrant parents with no form of recorded identification, well you technically do but for an adult you are a pathetic case , stuck in a foreign country without a penny to your name, not a polite plan but your useless parents love you , right YN?

no?

Well then , you're fucked

It honestly doesn't matter because you are easily just another piece of disposable trash, a useless gullible thing and a walking target for all that could eat alive a weak thing as yourself but you might have had the angel of luck on your shoulder to have stood in that same store as him on that damned day

it was just something about you , you had too much potential, in fact you were so pathetic he could see you in the game uniform the moment he laid eyes on you , way before even knowing your name but he is and always has been a meticulous character so he stood, patiently, kept his face from recoiling as you nearly got on your knees to beg for the vacant position in a disgusting store without a clue that he was cracking his neck to slap the lights out of the store owner right behind that counter

Is this all you can get for yourself

he judged harshly with a sense of superiority as he observed you already making you a mental profile

He wonders if you even took time to research this sorry excuse of a store in all your desperate glory ,did you know of the two male companions that assisted this sleaze behind the counter in keeping the store dead as it was ,did you know that they could be far worse than the slimy pig who is just dying to fuck you, he tugs at your arm to let out with an even slimier tone

"I will call you on Monday, I promise"

and he winks

that was it ,all it took for you to leave your number there on a piece of paper

he isn't even looking for the fractures in humanity at this point and just like all the people who end up in that dumpsters , you too look like a victim of your own choices ,like trying to mix yourself with low lives who don't even try to hide the fact that they are salivating at the mounds of flesh that spill from the top of your dress

that is where he draws the line between himself and humans , humans like you and them , he is not rooted in excess and somewhere at the core of his values he really believes that his innate human desires do not control him

you have some tricks up your sleeves he will give you that , you really had not notice him stood behind you this entire time and like the user you are you turned to face him , a scowl taking over your features as you bump into him , you take a good look at him ,

Crisp suit and not a hair out of place, he looks put together , far handsome than any man in this hell hole but the briefcase in his hand makes you want to scoff for this particular part of town and you conclude  that the man is probably another pretentious bastard who belongs right where he's shopping ,staring for a second before you are pulled back to reality by the sound of your potential boss' voice telling you to make room for the customer making you mutter a simple sorry as you brush past the man whose face is housing a faux smile

Cold eyes that give nothing at all staying glued to yours , your face and never below your chin , that was easily a new with a man , especially in this part of town but then again he could just be a Jehovah's witness , those can be fun to mind fuck

you sway your hips in a hypnotic manner feeling the store owners eyes on you all the way through that exit , you were pathetic yes , not dumb...you knew that you were never going to get hired and if he called you back he would just be looking to get his dick wet

the patient man ,stood in his suit staring dead into the eyes of the man behind the counter with that faux smile that never meets his eyes, he lays flat a greeting to the man across him commanding the man's attention and when his eyes fall on the man in front of him it takes him a moment to respond but suited man with his practiced smile lays an offer just as the slimy man parts an inch of his mouth to speak

"Would you be interested in playing a game with me ?"

"What..." he scoffs as he puffs out his chest and gives an insulting look that could easily match his follow up words

"sir , a game ?...-''he lays his hand on the surface counter and laughs slightly ridiculed ''do you think this place runs on ''games '', mmhm? whatever makes you think i have the time to play some stu-''

''Seo Davis,''the salesman smiles bringing the man to a halt for a second , he watches him intently and waits for him to get ready to speak again and just like those games he enjoys so well , as  the guy opens is mouth to speak the suited man speaks ''age :42 ,You're drowning in debt... 2.3 million total  with 70 percent of your store losses going to the loan sharks ,and that is not even a brink of your financial problems Mr Seo, Creditors are circling, waiting to pounce.., but ten again by the time they get here this place will be a shell of what it never was -'' he quirks an eyebrow ''you know why? You're already so desperate, paranoid and defensive...'' he laid down his briefcase , clicking it open to the man's eyes '' You'll do whatever it takes to survive''

he can already see it in the man's eyes , the greed unhinged ''So, Mr. Seo, tell me... Are you ready to play a new game? One where the stakes are high, but the rewards are higher?'' with a gulp from the man , he picks the red envelope and the quiet store had for the first time in a while the loudest blend between ddakji slaps and the suited man's firm hand making contact with the store owner's face .

That was a month ago

you never got that call back .

over the course of that and this month you could feel the joys you had for life slip out of you as you sat through another gathering with your moter and the company of friends she kept , you had become another conversation , pitied and reduced to what your peers earned that you didn't , to your beautiful body that didn't necessarily go with your face , to your pickiness that left you single and unmarried for the rest of your life

you hid well , behind scowls and smart emarks back to your critiques but that night you felt crazy , your nails digging into your arm to draw blood and silence the mind , he had to admit , it wasn't easy to track down a person whose last records dated back to when they were just eleven years old , that was when your passport expired and you were still here

stuck in a country that gives you nothing at all

he had no choice but to find you , follow you around , you weren't that hard to tail once he abandoned finding you by the system , he could have found someone to track you for him but he was also always a perfectionist , preffering a certain degree of dilligence , if ou were going to end up in that dumpster he needed to verify that you were truly worthy of the title of honorary trash and that is how his research began , only three days after that store encounter

he had to work a little overtime and even then following you around had come to be the easiest routine he ever had to follow even though it at the cost of his personal fun time usually scheduled at local homeless parks , he didn't mind given thhat so far you hadn't come around dissapointing him

you had been so good for him , so easy to watch in a manner that your routines albeit random became of solace to him to watch you about in your wasted days

he could only trust that you would continue to do right by him and agree him to at least one game because even if you personally don't subscribe to any debt you still suffer the consequences of your parents incompetence

he knows that you know of their pending debts because you still go around getting slapped on the wrist with every chance you manage to drag your pathetic self out of bed , you are a defeated little mess and none of the burdens you carry on your shoulders are really yours , the game didn't discriminate

he studied you to be left with just another predictable case on his hands , he was right about you , he was confident in your potential but he drags a nervous breath as he stalks towards your slumped form in that train station's silver bench, crying

you were crying, good . he wonders if you'd look him in the eyes at least once , he had yet to see your eyes bloodshot and all watery , God , he needs to get a grip

,you don't see him coming , you only look to your left to see a familiar unsettling faux smile of a stranger you couldn't care less of , his signature sly smile reflecting back to you your vulnerability and desperation that he is about to exploit ,despite your attempts to protect yourself with a tough exterior you are surprisingly oblivious to the dangers that linger around you ,him included

he knows he has gotten you when you let that ounce of recognition keep you rooted in your seat with the escape of a sigh that leaves your chapping lipd

"hello miss-''

"No-no-no , I don't want jesus christ , infact if you come across him tell him that I don't want eternal life , I would hate to do this again , let alone forever''

you take a deep breath , closing your eyes briefly after you little melt down

he couldn't care less, you already strike him as an abrupt little thing , your vulnerability does that for you , you are simply defensive , if he had been here for the reasons your impulses accuse of him maybe he would have had to persist harder but then again he has so much better for you , his faux smile deepening as he questions

''are you okay?''

you divert your eyes from him looking at your hands that tremble slightly , he doesn't really like to waste his time but he dangles a tissue in font of you , this one is from the kindness of his heart and he gives you the time to collect yourself before laying out the big apple in that low smooth tone that should aid you in trusting him

"would you like to take a break from your worries and play a little game with me ? ''

''game?''

the briefcase clicks open the same time as you whip your head towards him ,a briefcase you have held at such harsh judgements laid open before you , a neatly organised compartment consisting of two square , envelopes? blue and red , cash , loads of cash...you should be excited , intrigued at the sight of the cash but just below it stares back at you a revolver , loud and shiny

when your glossy eyes go to meet the suit man your nose unintentionally scrunches at that casual smile of his , unsettling as ever as he speaks ''you could win really big and do away with your family debt in just three games , Miss YN-shii'' the man operates at such a natural robotic pace which just poses another blazing red flag in your interaction ,you know better than to indulge this stranger , nothing of him calls you to trust him but it's at the back of your mind that he made use of your name when he lays open between you two that briefcase of his , you proceed to ask gulping hard at the stacks of cash

''what kind of game?''

he smiles smugly holding two colored envelopes between his nimble fingers

''amongst these two envelopes , one contain the precise amount of the money owed by your parents and the other contains a penalty ,which one do you choose Miss YN?''

I haven't agreed to playing yet-

the thought is far from finished when he notes to you that time is ticking and you fold so sweetly under pressure , the meek little thing you are , ocd and eager to please would be caught dead before ever missing a deadline let alone disappoint anyone at all and so the salesman pouts

you are impulsive under pressure , you note as your hand flies to the blue envelope , it's bright that's your humble reason as the man's eyebrow shoots up , unreadable prompting a sight out of you as you await promised penalty while he opens the envelope

''oh -"

"what's the penalty " you ask voice barely above a whisper

the man's smile grows wider as he reveals to you a small paper that has you rolling your eyes

"Seems like you have won temporary reprieve Miss Yn, penalty has been reprieved...for now, you are left with two chances "

the envelopes change and you pick again, blue again and you honestly don't know what you are still doing here but perhaps you are at your wits end with all the doors shut to your face, you throw caution to the wind as you recall being rejected at a local strip club , they were blunt telling you that you were not what the locals pay to see , you scoffed and you have zoned out

The mans face turns serious and, you look angry , almost missing out on the fact that you won

"Congratulations Miss Yn ," in your face is a card written exactly 800k won and a bank card attached at the back, there is a crease in your eyebrows , questions swim there, doubt and suspicion too

"how do I know that you are mot just bullshitting me  , what if none of this works?"

he slides a card towards you , triangle, circle, square and a phone number printed on the back

It's strange, too easy and you don't believe in angels or easy luck not for you, especially not for you of all people

"I give you 24 hours to bask in your victory Miss Yn, the details of your penalty remain on hold until then"

you are confused , cat really got your tongue and you stay puzzled even as the man bids you farewell

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ + _ _ _ _ _ _ + _ _ _ _ _ +-------+_ _ _ _+-------+_ _ _ _ _

you had clutched tight the envelope from the strange man for the rest of that night , barely slept a wink looking him up on the internet , it had started with the card of shaped symbols which lead you to preschool stuff , you so badly wanted to believe that maybe he was a preschool teacher but your wide awake senses rejected the idea so greatly your nose bled at 2am in the darkness

, you tried with the number as you further spiraled into desperation....NOTHING. When the morning came your feet carried you back to that train station , you occupied the very same seat as you had that day , you waited before you were seeking him , trails that lead you back to that store , or what you think to once have been a store , ashes and broken glass residing there, you seeked your surroundings for a strange yet familiar face until a part of you is convinced that he is just a fragment of your imagination , a byproduct of the immense stress and disappointment of you daily life

you wander and wander until you are stood in front of an atm , fucking around to find out , and find out you did.

your father's bank balance reflected back at you sums and amounts you would never even dream of ,800k as the man had said and you still couldn't believe it.

you could have just enjoyed it but you wanted the catch , a fault , anything to tell you that you were deluded,

you went home , you often thought about what you'd say you to your parents who sheltered you with all they could manage as you entered the threshold of your home , a tought that goes away as soon as you meet the joyed expression of your father who is somehow confident that he won a quarter of the lottery , he wasn't far off as it all felt surreal only , as he showed you a dramatic text from an unsaved contact

congratulations mr LN on your lottery win of 800k , your victory has been deposited into your account , enjoy~!!

you felt scared , you wondered if you had been baited to some illegal scheme that could lend not you but your father in prison

you prayed not as you went from confused to making excuses to deciding that you needed to contact the suit man , you dialed quickly the number on the card , it rang before a feminine voice greeted on the other side "hello, who's this?"

the crease of your eyebrows could only get deeper as you frowned

"Hello , may I please talk to the man...''you cringed at your tone and the ridiculousness of the situation , the realisation that you didn't even know his name ,''he wears suits and carries around a briefcase-" beep

the line disconnects before you are done and you try the call again, double checking each digit before pressing call , this time the woman get's to talk before you do

"I will pull your tongue out and wrap it around your neck until you die if you ever call my husband again.''

she didn't even wait for your response before cutting off the line

third time is a charm , you seem to be blocked as you are immediately rejected before calling it a day , not entirely though given that your desperation was venturing on the lines of paranoia ,it was a joyful day in your home , your father still convinced that he won the lottery which meant that you got no thanks at all for your efforts , not to be mistaken , you appreciated the heat of having to explain yourself or the mysterious money being removed off your shoulders but a teeny tiny list of reasons overwhelm you , for starters...was it a coincidence that the money had gotten to your father as a simple run into the luck of lottery, your efforts entirely discarded , you technically didn't have to do much for the money which is what posses the biggest threat to you right now , despite wanting to tell yourself that you won this money fair and square the rationed part of yourself cannot simply accept that life would just be so...giving? to you of all people...what was all tat about a pending penalty?

it's nearly 24hrs since  you last came across that man,' would he have shown up if you hadn't gone to the bank ?

a lot of things were unclear as you laid awake for the second night in a row ,you needed answers that the chat assistant in your pocket could not answer , and so you slipped on your  pair of slippers  , you just wanted to clear your head and that path lead you to the opposite end of the subway from where you sat yesterday , even at these late hours exhausted people occupy the place , probably people with jobs to return from, you wonder if some may even be going to thier jobs and somewhere between your thoughts you get lost, your fingers becoming the object of your focus on your lap amidst the quiet noise of a busy station

you are strangely calmed by the waves of trains and the chaos of your mind is muted until the waves are blending with something else , clapping?

You lift up your eyes and you don't have to search far because right across you through the windows of a train stands a confident suited man who throws a familiar red envelope to the ground, you quickly realise that he is flipping the blue envelope on the ground before proceeding to slap the man across him, hard and fast

It's natural that your eyebrows crease as the man is handed some cash before the suit man is leaving up the stairs

you are even more skeptical of him but you still run after him as soon as the train departs and you risk your life with the hopes of possibly getting some questions answered

It's not really a surprise by the time you reach the stairs there is absolutely no one but you keep going, in your head you think you will just run into him and the idea makes your palms sweaty. The man carries a gun, he slaps people and.. -he's turning a corner down the sketchy passage

every part of you, rational is screaming at you but your feet still work very fine so you jog after him, he must have impaired hearing because you heave painfully and your slippers basically slap the ground beneath your feet loud enough to reach him, as you reach the corner you scan briefly before he's right there, he suddenly appears in front of you under the flickering exhausted lights and the familiar scent of his expensive cologne overwhelms your senses

at the first eye contact you make with the man you bow your head , contemplating your decision to case after him , you hadn't even prepared a what you would say to him and now all your senses were screaming at you to turn back

you have to talk yourself into staying rooted as he takes slow steps towards you ,the distance between you two is becoming smaller by the minute and you are actually getting scared because because the summer rain hits you without warning and his faux smile is nowhere to be seen tonight in place of his faux smile is a darkness occupying his eyes

you don't know if it could save your life but you bow and issue out a greeting

he does take a halt ,right in front of you , you are preparing your next words when he reaches for your cheek ,eyes deep and set on yours as he slowly backs you against the wall , the pad of his thumb caresses the area and you are highly aware of him and everything around him

you wonder if you look as brave as you intend to present to te man in front of you getting on your tippy toes to glance behind him and letting the fact that it's only the two of you here sink just as you decide that you are allergic to silence , the one he is presenting to you anyway

"do you live around here , ajushi?'' you continue to avoid his eyes looking around the area just to distract yourself from the fear bubbling beneath the surface

"I don't''

he doesn't beat around the bush as he pops out the biggest question

"why are you following me? YN"

the hand on your cheek trails slowly down until i's at your neck where his rough thumb massages in meditated motions on the column of your throat ,

''I wasn't-'' the hold on your neck turns not so gentle yet not enough to disrupt your breathing pattern , it's a warning just as the words that follow up

''I have an idea , you answer my questions , for every answer that I don't like i add pressure to your precious little neck

-with that , be mindful of what you answer miss yn, '' he loosens his hold slightly finally flashing you a formal smile , nowhere near friendly even with his full set of teeth on display

''so Miss YN , have you been following me?"

his eyebrows shoot up in an expression that makes you think for a second that he is actually adorable , only the hand on your neck makes you start talking

"'I tried to call you ,on the number you gave me but a woman answered and told me that I would be dead if I ever called her husband again"

he hums just as his hand tightens , you can for a second taste the faux courage exit you system as you try to gulp down the sheer panic bubbling up

he shakes his hand side to side ''that just won't do YN-

why are you following me ?''

''I wanted to thank you , my father recieved the money but I couldn't find you anywhere so I went to the train station for some air and then i saw you- you can't stop there ,he is so close to cutting your air flow

''I wanted to talk to you and ask about the penalty and why my father is convinced that he won the lottery , you walked too fast and I couldn't call you so I ran , I didn't mean to follow you''

you did it again , your frustrated meltdown thing and now you were crying , he should feel sympathy

but fuck you look far better than he imagined you would with your eyes all watery ,he's pushing and at the sight of your hands shooting up to where he clutches your neck adding pressure by the passing second you become quite aware of the nearest news headline

"woman , 22 found in the nearest ditch-''

"would you like to come with me or return home to live in the devastating shadow of the peanuts that your brother earns , hmm YN?''

he let's go of you and you cough violently shooting a glare in his direction as he reaches a hand towards your face swiping a tear before sucking the section of the thumb

you shake your head no and you expect him to be...well.. himself about the matter but he simply turns away to leave you in the pouring rain teeth chattering , you are not even sure where you are so you do the next dumbest thing , block his path

"t-t-take me - with you''.

[beartitled]

He just wanted a bun 🥺

[m1stl3t03]

my kitty 🫳

[wavyskies]

Small The Salesman (Squid Game) Tumblr Layout before we turn in for the night.

F2U. Credit, likes and reblogs are appreciated but not necessary.

Not our best work but we're half asleep and chronic pain is kicking our asses so uh, sorry :[

[n0vation]

Are you ugly? Quite the opposite. Salesman x reader

ㄨSUMMARY:Getting caught spying is probably the worst she could imagine, expect when the worst is looking down at her, wanting to play Russian Roulette .

ㄨ╰┈➤ˎˊ˗PAIRING: Salesman x fem!reader / Smut / Dark Content

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ TAGS/WARNINGS: kidnapping,sadism, blood/brief gore, blood kink, noncon/dubcon, sizekink?,manipulation, power imbalance, top!salesman x bottom!reader, p in v, choking, creampie.

══✿═══✿════╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞════✿════✿══

"Such a bounty on that man. That's weird. He doesn't look like this type of guy." You thought walking through the streets of Seoul.

4 zeros , no, 5 zeros, you don't even remember who much money will you win if you get information about him. Better, if you get him. But damn you're not a fighter, you just need to learn more about him and lure him to let his guard down before you become millionaire.

Now you were waiting on a corner counting the seconds.

3 , 2 ,1

The tall man came from a luxurious taxi, entering a bakery. He watches the bread, bending his head, his fuckass weird smile sticked on his face. How can someone be so creepy?

"Do not lose him, do not lose him.."

Your prayers seem to have been heard as your taxi catches up with his and arrives in a park. The scent of the grass tickling your nose before the smell of sweat and pee caught you. Homeless. The filth of society. The bottom of the hierarchy.

"I gave you a chance, and you made your choice. I'm not the one who threw these away. It's you, ladies and gentlemen!" He yelled, before stomping the breads in front of their shocked faces. His expression distorted by a deep hatred toward them. Costume readjusted and hair arranged, it seems like he never lashed out.

What is that? Are you feeling bad for them? Do you wanna go help them?

Oh, please! You're not different! If he had handed you a bit of money, you would have done way worse. Since when was your mind so corrupted? Empathy is a primary feeling, yet your brain could only tell you to catch up with the salesman. Your money.

You followed discreetly your jackpot.That, until he stops in the middle of a narrow street. You took some seconds to realize the situation before attempting to hide. Unsuccessfully. He grabs a good hold of your hair and pulls you toward him.

Silly you, nobody stop in the middle of a street unless it's for someone else. And you thought you could break free? He yanks you on his chest, feeling the hard features of his toned torso before sliding down his arm under your chin and locking your head. You feel his muscles clenching, pressing dangerously on your wind pipe, bringing you close to failing into Morpheus arms.

You grabbed your hidden knife, attempting to slice the arm choking you, but he caught you on the spot. "Too bad", you heard coming from him before feeling your eyelids getting heavier.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌

Ropes digging through your sore arms and smoke of luxurious cigarette greets you while you regain consciousness. Classical music in the background matching the expensive furniture of the room.

Woke up, bakery, gross homeless, the salesman , ̸̠͕̮̔͆̍͋́̐͆͝/̴͍͖̲̄̅̏͆̀̇̊͝\̴̢̞̬̥̣͔̈́͂̈́̐̊̚͝/̶̯͔̝̘̥͚̼̹̪̟̬̬̀́̂͝͠ͅ\̵̡̛̛̳̥̱̱͑̾̾̆́͛̓͋̓̔̈|̶̱̙̜̲̩̲͇̜̭̹̯̬̰̌̎͊͝|̴̛̯̯̼̯͋̈͗̾͆̅/̶̩̫͖̻͓̪̣͊/̸̢̹̾̆͌̒́́͠\̸̯̓̒̃̈́̈́̿̒̋̏͂́̉̏̕͝|̴̢̯̲̱̗̤̖̠͈͒̋̇̿̾̆̇̔̀͘͠/̸̧̢̻͉̣̪̭͈͔̄͂́̈̃͂͑̓̍̾͑̓/̷̠͖̙̜͔̺̹̜͈̟̼̅̋̀͋̿̈̏̕͝ͅͅ\̷̙͈̥́̏̚|̶̙͇͇̜͂̃͑̐̈́̇̑\̵͙̭͓̩̣̯͉̏̎̎̕|̸͙̯̠̘̪̲̤̱͎̜̖͈̜́̉͜ͅ\̷̢̭̻̱̝̹̞̗̻͔̏͒͆|̵̨̖̣͗̃.

Then black out.

"You don't greet me?" He asks, bending to meet your eyes. How could you while your mouth was stuffed of whatever he tied around it.

"So? Are you a secret admirer or a spy?" He asks holding eyes contact with you. His features as soft and angelic as you saw them from far.

"Spy since you were armed." He stands, straight using his full height to look down at you.You watch him walk around the chair you were tied to.

"So that what they thought was my type? You were gathering information about me to get closer easier, right?" You feel his fingers grazes over your neck from behind. Going all the way up to mess with your hair. His touch was soft and apprehensive, almost romantic if you haven't noticed the gun on his other hand before.

"You're shy? You don't answer. Or maybe you're not confident enough to answer." He slides down the fabric over your mouth. Your cheeks meet with the cold barrel of the gun. Thrills spreads all the way down your neck upon hearing him shush you. The threat clear and understood.

"So, are you ugly?"

Sadistic and psychopathic traits, that was for sure. Overconfident and proud. The best answer was to show you're not scared and defy him.Maybe you could surpass him and gain respect.

"Quite the opposite" You said, your voice shaking a bit at the end , betraying your confident tone. He chuckled, his fingers resting over your head.

Then he pulled harshly your head back, put the gun under your chin as he bent over you, meeting your gaze.

"I like you. You're entertaining. I wanna play with you." He utters before sitting in front of you, flicking that annoying smirk.

Rich looking table, cigarette next to the ashtray and lighter, shiny cups of alcohol accompanying an expensive bottle. You could see your reflection on the glass table: marks all over your neck.

Your attention goes back to the man, humming the music.

"What about Russian Roulette? I will gladly risk my life along yours." He leans on the table, showing you the empty gun before filling it with one bullet.He then slaps it, making the cylinder roll and get in its place. The sound of the metal awaken your sense, and fasten your breath.

"He can't be serious. What if he dies? Yet..he has already done silly games with homless before.." You thought, your mind racing and survival instinct kicking in.

He then aims slowly at your head, his smiles widening.

"No reaction?" You were just frozen by fear. He leans over the table, his hand grabbing your wrist to lift it up, considering how the rope were only around your upper arms. You try to move away, but he only pouts, waving the gun.

"I wouldn't do that." He states firmly. He places the canon of the gun on the back of your hand ,counting to three.

"Hope you're lucky!" He said before firing the first shoot. You felt a horrible pain spreading into your hand as blood splashed both of your faces. You screamed at the combination of the pain and the sight of your right hand: your knuckles spreads apart by the hole formed of the shredded flesh and skin that was supposed to hold the pairs of fingers together.You cry at the blood flooding watching your tendons move grossly with the clenching of your exposed muscles ,dropping more blood at each movement like a sponge.

He let go off your hand, watching intensely your face contortion, making your tears roll messily on it. He paid attention to your moans of pain and shaky hand movements, terrifying for you and almost pornographic for him at how much he liked it.

"Unlucky I guess" He said, fascinated by your face.

"My turn." He says before faking taking a deep breath and aiming at his hand.She had already lost.He was safe.

He opens the cylinder again and fill it up one more time.

"Round two." He says, trying to catch your attention.You were too focused on the blood coming from your hand. He sighed before grabbing the fabric he used over your mouth and wrap it around it, clearly annoyed.

"I said Round two." He orders started to get angry. You meet his gaze once again, clearer now that it wasn't filled with tears.

Uneven eyes.

He smiles sadistically, playing with the aim of the gun. Forehead, neck, chest, stomach, tighs. He stops on the gun on it, smiling happily. He leans toward you, giving you a made-on-purpose sight through his blouse.

"Pray, you're unlucky" He mumbled , holding a laugh as he stays close, watching your widened eyes.He fires again, bullet piercing through your left thigh as you yelled.

He laughed watching you squirm, attempting something to stop the blood. He keeps laughing as he unties his black tie. You would have called it hot if you were emptyingfrom your blood. Drowning in your tears, you watch him raise your bleeding thighs to slide his tie under it. His fingers pressing the disgusting fat soft flesh close to the wound, making you wince. He then suddenly ties a knot on it, pulling a last scream from your throat. And stopping the bleeding.

"My turn." He says before leaning back on his seat and manspread aiming the gun on his inner thigh. He smiles psychotically before firing nothing.

"I won the two rounds." He states like nothing.

"Last roun-" He doesn't finish his sentence as you jump on him, attempting to grab his gun. He looks on the table startled at how could you break free.

The lighter is missing. And the faint scent of burned rope finally reach his nostrils.

"Fucking bitch-" He slurs as you catch the gun and pull it toward you difficulty with your exploded hand. He stumbles back on his chair, making both of you land on the overturned chair.You grip firmly on it, your life hanging on a thread. He crushes your hands under his and managed to be the one aiming it. Both of you roll over, ending up on him over you, pressing the gun firmly on the ground.You tried to yank it to you, but it just ends up in the weapon being thrown far from both of you. You felt something burn in your rib cage, feeling the hope running low and adrenaline mixing to fear. You roll under him, on your knees ,before dashing toward the gun.

"One last round." He said as he catches your ankles. If only the bullet in your thighs didn't stopped you from dashing further. His eyes squinting, distorted by the pleasure he took in watching the waves of despair over your face. You were laying flat ,held by his large hands.

He kept you there for a moment, feeling your small limbs shaking and eyes blurring as adrenaline ran away from you. Oh dear ,if you knew how much that aroused him. Having the upper hand over.

He then suddenly grabbed your wounded hand, throwing away the poor fabric over it before intertwining your bloody fingers with his. He leaded that right hand toward your left shoulder, letting his arm bend you down to arch and head look at him over you.

" How romantic." He mutters, pressing your fingers, parting your parted in half hand. You scream of pain, feeling the skin pulled apart as well as your fingers. That's when you looked at his face, a sadistic grin spread wide over it.

Uneven eyes.

"Let's do a more special round for you." He said appreciating how the sight of your back bend painfully turned him on as much as your warm blood trickling down his hand.

" If you cum before me, you're eliminated. And if you don't ..." He pauses, thinking of the best way to reward you. " I will patch you up"

You pleaded, begged, implored him not to. He just shushed you as he pulled your pants down, ignoring your cute attempts at squirming away.

After freeing his cock, he admired the sight. Bent back, bloody, pain all over your body.

"Cute" He muttered before placing himself between your legs and pushing his tip slowly in your small body. He kept quiet, hearing your sounds complementing the opera in the back. His two fav sounds, cello and pleadings coming from a broken voice.

He yanked your chest more, making your head rest back. He smiles at your reddened eyes and shaky lips. He pressed his fingers more,extracting a poor moan of you as he started moving. He filled you so deep, you felt like he was gonna tear you down one more time.

"Please, please" You repeated as all he did was watch your eye's reaction to him pushing a deep thrust in you, extracting a louder please. He laughs at your face, going back to his slow and romantic rhythm.

"Told you you were entertaining. You're so expressive, a gift from whoever hired you" He started pounding harder in you, watching your head move slightly every time he bottomed you.He bent toward you, admiring your fucked up eyes.He slowed down, watching relief regain your eyes . He then shoved forcefully, breaking that look on your face and making your chest jumps. Another forceful shove and that insatiable look on his face, appreciating your eyes widening and loud breathing of yours.

Again, no, this time he stops half way, watching your face stops half way too. He breaks in laughing loudly, throbbing in you so bad, feeling the hardest he has ever been in so long. He loved how a simple romantic move as pressing lightly your tangled fingers could get you to cry, giving you pleasure would destroy that hope in your eyes and how getting closer to you felt like hell for your back.

He then picked up a rough pace, his own breath getting louder than your moans.He looks straight into you, straight into your soul.

"You have pretty eyes." You started to struggle to keep your eyes open, feeling your lungs unable to give you the oxygen you needed. If only his biceps wasn't pressing on your breast. You move your shaky but free hand to push his lower away from you.

"No, no. None of us have lost yet." He states before giving you messier thrusts. If you listened carefully , you could hear his deep voice each time he hit that spot deep down who made your eyes cross. He pressed your chest more, starting to make you cough at the lack of oxygen.

" I-I give up...You won..." You managed to say without thinking of the consequences. All you could focus on was how good it felt each time he was deep into that spot. How his other hand on your waist was so fucking rough yet so fucking good. How full and pleasured you ever felt while he was corrupting your mind.

Was it the lack of air that fucked your brain or how good he fucked you that messed with your brain?

"Then you have to cum. Or you want me to make you? That's why you wanna get eliminated?" He says, looking straight into your eyes. Do you want him to? This question echoed in your brain, altering your way of thinking as much as the pleasure that stacked up into you.

"I ... Dunno..." You managed to say as your eyes rolled back, your body going limb. You passed away! That, until a harsh slap lands into your face, waking you up. That's for sure. The feeling of pain through your body soothed by the pleasure into your stretched inside greeted you with your tormentor handsome smile.

Uneven eyes.

"Wake up sweetie. I haven't lost yet." He said, slowing down his movements, feeling about to bust.

"Imma take your answer as a yes." He says, before cutting your breath again and picking up in pace and precision, hitting that spot again. Before you faint again due to the blood loose and choking ,he let goes of your hand.He watches your top fall heavily to the front, grabbing a painful hold in your head and shoving your face on the expensive carpet. He pounds in you, making you reach your climax as you stopped fighting, letting the pleasure sooth the pain.He thrust last deep shoves before filling you up.

He admires you're fucked up being as he pulled out, not restraining you anymore. Why? You were so sore. He was just admiring you again.

"I guess it's time to process to the elimination."

[ihonestlydontknowwhattocallthis]

Dare I say it

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 1 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: After getting attacked at the train station, you get rescued by a mysterious stranger. But is that really better?

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, attempted rape, violence, murder, hints of blood and gore, trauma talk

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

He was a twisted motherfucker. And you knew it was your own fault you ended up in his claws. But how could you have possibly known? After all, at first he seemed like the good guy.

Looking back, it was entirely lost on you, how he managed to pull that off.

You remembered vividly how it felt when you sat on the cold bench in the waiting area of the underground train station, just like you did every evening of your life. Except for Sundays. Sundays were reserved for books and tv shows, to numb out your mind. Sundays were for you.

Your thoughts had been occupied with work and the feeling of your lower body slowly freezing off.

UTI, honey. You'll get UTI, if you sit on cold surfaces for too long. Your mothers voice took up a lot of space in your head, despite the fact that the last time you saw her was years ago. It still made you feel uneasy, but there was not much you could do. She was your mother, your inner voice, your compass. The part of your mind that still relied on her advice didn't know that she was long gone from your life and for a reason.

The first thing you noticed was a pair of cold hands reaching for you. Everything seemed to be cold that day. And God, you hated the cold.

His cold hands reached for you and before you even realized it, he had you pinned against the bench, trapped in-between him and the cold surface. You didn't have time to react at all. His one cold hand went up to cover your mouth, while his other cold hand cupped your breast through the fabric of your clothes.

Of course you struggled. It was a reflex. You tried to fight him off as soon as you realized what was going on. You struggled and squirmed, at some point you even tried to knee him in the crotch. But he straddled your waist, keeping you down with his weight and you knew where this was leading.

You hadn't even seen his face. His ugly ass blue hat with the dove on top was pulled down deep in his face and you couldn't make out his eyes. Not that it would have changed anything, but it made everything even worse for you.

But what was by far the worst thing, wasn't the cold. It wasn't even the fact that the station was empty except for the two of you. The worst thing was that no sound came out when you opened your mouth to scream. No sound at all.

Oh, how you had feared that. The dream came often, frequently even and it was a shitty feeling every time, wanting to scream but no sound came out. Your throat was tight, your tongue useless, your lips parted in a silent plea.

No.

This was the end, you were sure.

He'd violate you and if you were lucky, he'd leave you like that, on the cold bench, to fend for yourself. But that wasn't your biggest fear. Your biggest fear was what would happen if he didn't decide to leave you like that.

Maybe it'd be quick. A blade to your throat and within a few minutes everything would finally be over.

But what if not?

A knot built in your stomach as you saw your future right infront of you. Sold off to some twisted people, spending the rest of your life as a tool for someone else's pleasure, someones amusement, someones-

No, being violated wasn't your worst fear.

Being sold off was.

At some point people would believe you were dead and then they'd stop searching.

Tears streamed down your face and your body shook with suppressed sobs as he ripped at your shirt impatiently. Your lips parted in another desperate plea, but still, no sound.

You were done for. This was your end. You couldn't breathe.

Until, suddenly, you could again.

You let out a shuddery gasp when you felt his weight lift off of you. You were frozen solid after you backed away against the wall.

The man appeared out of nowhere, looking like someone from a novel or a movie.

His hair, which looked like it was normally slicked back neatly, hung into his face as he dragged the man off you, his expression twisted into something you couldn't read.

You took a deep breath. In. And out. In. And out.

You were safe. The police would come, the man would get arrested and he wouldn't ever touch you again. You would finally see his eyes and-

Oh God.

You winced outwardly when you heard the cracking sound and the man with the blue hat went limp in his arms. His unreadable expression turned into something resembling smugness.

You watched in horror as he tossed the lifeless body onto the train line. The train came on time. Of course it did. Punctuality was a good deed, especially here in South Korea.

What you witnessed then was probably the most gruesome scene of your life and you immediately knew you would never get that picture out of your head.

The sound of a gunshot forced you back to reality and you winced painfully. When you looked up, you saw him still pointing his gun at the security camera in the left corner of the area. On his face a subtle smile. The twisted smile of an avenging angel...or an obvious demon.

He pushed the gun back beneath his waistline and held out his hand to you.

The man who had almost destroyed your life was dead, scattered across the train station in blood and gore and the man who would undoubtedly destroy your life held out his hand to you.

You heard your mothers voice again, small and subtle.

Don't take his hand, honey. Something's most definitely wrong with him. I bet he's dangerous.

That was what made you take his hand in the end. However bad he was, he couldn't possibly be worse than her, could he?

A few minutes later, he made a point of passing about every car on the highway.

"Where do you live?" His voice was like silk. It was terrifying.

After what had happened, you felt like you had stopped breathing for a while and just now were you slowly getting back to it again.

No ins and outs. Straight up hyperventilating.

"I- I don't know." You gasped out truthfully.

He cocked a brow and briefly glanced at you from the drivers seat.

"You don't know?"

You frantically shook your head.

"I always take the same path. From the train station, take a turn left and- and-"

"Where are you from, sweet girl?" His voice sounded so calm, as sweet as honey. It was almost offensive, it was infuriating.

"Yorkshire." You whispered without missing a beat.

He hummed softly and briefly eyed you up and down. "England, hm? I should have recognized from your grace and beauty."

Was he fucking flirting with you? After he just...just murdered someone?

"What takes you to South Korea then? School? Uni?"

"Work." You murmured, not even recognizing your own voice. But at least by now it was back. Fucking betrayed by your own body, wonderful.

He raised his brows as he passed another car in a nerve-wrecking speed.

"Work? You look a little young to be that far from home, working here. Do you even speak the language?"

You subtly shook your head and he nodded.

"I work with...with computers." You mumbled absentmindedly. In your head, the scene from earlier kept repeating like a broken record. All that blood...

He hummed again. An odd sound. He radiated such a calm energy, it was truly confusing.

"You were awfully quiet earlier." He remarked.

You swallowed back the lump in your throat and looked out of the window.

"Ah. Sore spot. I get it."

At first you had thought he might be taking you to the police station. But then you realized; after he just butchered someone down without flinching? Probably not.

Still, you had hope. That was until you saw the city sign disappear in the rear view mirror. This wasn't good. Maybe for once you should have listened to your mothers voice.

"Where are you taking me?" You asked quietly.

He didn't respond, just kept his gaze firmly on the highway before you. You kept glancing at him for a while, before eventually you looked down at your hands. You hadn't even realized how much they were shaking. You wanted to ask many, many questions.

Who the hell are you?

Where are we going?

Why did you kill that man?

...Am I next?

But all you managed was a quiet, desperate exhale.

"Are you hungry?" He asked matter-of-factly.

You thought back to the massacre and immediately felt nauseous again, so you shook your head.

"Yes, you are. You need to keep your strength. Don't worry, sweet girl. We'll be home soon. I'll take good care of you."

The cold sweat that broke out on your body was nearly painful. You knew he wasn't normal, but you couldn't yet tell to which extent he was crazy.

Was he just a little twisted?

He was a killer after all. And now you were with him. In his car. Maybe, just maybe you could...

You glanced down at the doorhandle, when his calm voice made you jump.

"Don't even think about it, sweet girl. That won't work. I'm driving so fast, the second your body hits the pavement, your head will explode like a balloon."

The was that tightness in your throat again. But this time something was different. He had his hands on the steering wheel, not on you. You could still breathe.

Suddenly you saw yourself again, sold off. And damn it, suddenly exploding didn't sound so bad anymore.

You furiously tugged on the door handle, but it didn't work. It was locked. You kept trying it desperately, a soft passing your lips. After a few moments you realized it was pointless.

Slowly you tilted your face back towards him, only to realize he was already watching you. He was still smiling that subtle, not at all genuine, smile, but this time something was different. It was like a cold fury had taken possession of his eyes.

Maybe he wasn't a demon. Maybe he was the devil.

"That one was free. Because we don't know each other all too well yet." He said slowly. "But next time, I won't be so forgiving."

You looked back at the street ahead of you. And suddenly you realized something. Maybe he was worse than your mother.

God, what a terrifying thought.

About half an hour later, there you were. Home.

A great apartment complex, somewhere God knows where.

Suddenly it hit you. He hadn't covered your eyes. Not in the car, not infront of the house, not in the elevator.

You weren't leaving this place, at least not alive.

He led you inside one of the apartments. To your surprise, everything looked pretty normal, except for the part that it looked fairly expensive.

The walls were painted in a warm apricot color and the floor was made of dark wood.

He led you deeper inside and you realized, it was indeed a normal flat. The couch was made of black leather and there was a giant bookshelf, next to a big tv. For some reason the sight of the bookshelf brought you an odd sense of comfort.

How bad could a person be, if he was well-read?

Your mind soon wandered off to Hannibal Lecter and you dismissed the thought.

"Sit."

You sat down on the couch as instructed. All the while you were careful to keep your shoes off the cream colored carpet so you wouldn't get it dirty. It was odd how your mind worked.

He followed your gaze, his expression unreadable again.

Then he crouched down before you, so you were eye level with him. His eyes were of a pretty brown and soulless to the core. You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. He sized you up for a while, until eventually he sighed. An exaggerated, mocking sound.

"How do you like it here?"

Your insides twisted.

"It's pretty." You said in a choked whisper.

He laughed, a hearty, yet sarcastic sound.

"Look at you. Just look at you. Being my good girl already." He said slowly.

He leaned in so close that his breath tickled your ear. You forced yourself to stay still.

"The door can be opened only by me. The same goes for all windows. All the walls are soundproof. There's no way you can get out, until I want you to. Do you understand?" For the first time, his voice was low and you could grasp the subtle threat. He didn't pretend to be cheerful for once.

Or was it truly pretense?

You forced yourself to nod.

And just like that, his twisted smirk was back.

"Very well." He swiftly stood up. "What would you like for dinner?"

You slowly tilted up your head to read his expression. Read his intention. Read his character or the lack of it. But there was nothing. Nothing for you understandable, nothing that made any kind of sense.

"I'm not hungry." You whispered.

He pretended to pout, but eventually held out his hand to you again. A bittersweet deja-vu. As much as you wanted to refrain from taking it this time, you were far more afraid of what would happen if you refused him.

You hesitantly took his hand and he pulled you up to your feet.

"Maybe a nice, hot shower then?" He purred.

Of course. This time, it wouldn't be a faceless man with a blue hat to violate you, it would be him. The devil himself. You could already feel it, smell it and taste it. In the shower, on the bed, the kitchen counter, the floor and against the wall, until he grew tired of you.

That was why you were there. That had to be.

Before you could react, he had led you back to a spacious bathroom. Everything looked ridiculously clean and expensive. The freestanding tub was sparkling and the fluffy towels begging to dry you off.

He'd bend you over the tub. Maybe push your head under water. You knew he would. Just a minute more.

Instead, he gently ushered you inside.

"I'll get you something clean to sleep in." He said matter-of-factly. "I'll leave it infront of the door. Take as much time as you need."

With that, he disappeared and closed the door behind him. Your eyes widened almost comically. You then rushed forward to lock the door, which worked with ease. Next, the window. You tugged on the handle, desperate to open it. Not that it would have made any sense, you were too high above the street. But the thought of opening the window still filled you with hope. Like maybe, at least there would be one way out.

When nothing worked, you tried to break the glass. But you quickly noticed it was no normal glass. He hadn't lied. The windows provided no way out.

You slumped down below the sink and cried for a while. To no great surprise of yours, your tears ran dry quickly and you just sat in silence for a while.

You were trapped.

And you had no idea what you were here for.

After what felt like half an hour, you got up with shaky legs and decided to check if the door was truly locked. It was. You unlocked it and perked your head out, only to realize he had left you a bathrobe outside, as well as slippers and a nightdress. It was pretty basic, made of cotton. But it wasn't revealing or anything. The thought was oddly comforting. You picked up the clothes and disappeared back into the room, where you locked the door and sighed.

Your eyes settled on the tub and you thought, why the hell not?

You made quick process of it. You got rid of your sweat-soaked clothes and stepped into the tub. The water filled up the tub rather quickly. At least the warmth of it provided some kind of comfort. You poured some scented lavender oil in and sunk deeper down.

You didn't dare close your eyes though. You were still sure he would come and take what he wanted. Mayhe he just wanted you to be clean first? He would come. He surely would.

But he didn't. Minutes passed, another half an hour. And he didn't come. You rinsed off and stepped out of the tub. The giant, fluffy towels felt heavenly against your skin. It was almost like you were in a hotel. Except for the murder and abduction part.

You slipped into the nightdress and the slippers and towel dried your long hair. Then you folded the towel neatly and placed it on the radiator. After a few long, deep breaths you carefully stepped outside. The cold air brought you back to reality as you followed back the same path he had led you earlier. You were surprised to find the living room empty, but you heard rustling sounds from the kitchen.

And then your gaze settled on the door.

It were less than five steps. You could make it. You could. If you were quick and took off the slippers, you could stealthily...

"Sweet girl?" That fake sweetness again, with the hint of underlying warning to it. You swallowed thickly and looked up. He stood in the doorway and looked at you with something resembling a warm smile.

"How was your bath?"

You stood frozen. Five small steps. If you thudded against the door loud enough, maybe someone might hear. Alert the police. Rescue-

"I asked you a question."

"Good." You whispered. And involuntarily added: "Thank you."

Good girl, purred your mothers voice.

But all he did was smile.

"Come, I made dinner. Just a few bites."

Your mind drifted back to Hannibal Lecter and you nearly spat. A careful glance into the kitchen and...

Pancakes. You gasped in relief.

He tilted his head to the side, smiling softly.

"You don't like pancakes?"

"I do." You whispered involuntarily.

They might be poisoned, but the fact that you hadn't eaten anything since lunch at work got the better of you. He slowly guided you into the kitchen and sat you down on one of the chairs, before he sat down opposite you.

He caught you staring down at the food suspiciously, which made him chuckle.

"They're not poisoned."

When you still didn't move, he rolled his eyes and took a bite off your fork. He chewed and swallowed with a smug expression.

"See?"

You reluctantly moved. They weren't bad. Pretty good even. You chewed carefully and never took your eyes off him. He did the same. And he still looked so unbelievably calm.

After you finished eating and downed a glass of water, you stared at him...expectantly.

His smirk widened.

"A curious little bird, aren't you?"

He narrowed his eyes somewhat and reached out to touch your cheek. "You cried."

To your surprise, when you flinched, he pulled his hand back and hummed softly.

"No need to cry, sweet girl. I'll take care of you. All you have to do is agree."

You already regretted asking. "Agree to what?"

He leaned back and bared his teeth in a predatory smile.

"Being mine."

Your brows furrowed in confusion and straight up stress. The calming effects of the bath were slowly fading away.

"What?"

"Mine, sweet girl. My girl."

"Your girl?" You asked somewhat incredulously, which was something he didn't seem to appreciate.

He reached out and cupped your face in his hand, his grip firm, but not painful. Yet. Your heart immediately skipped several beats.

"Oh, you will agree, sweet girl. The question is, will you agree willingly? Or do I have to make you?" He narrowed his eyes even further.

"Who are you, sweet girl?"

You stared up at him with wide, fearful eyes. Something told you that there was no right answer to that question.

And then, in a rare fit of courage, you said your name.

He took a long, deep breath and slowly dropped his hand from your chin.

"That's very tragic, sweet girl."

With a disapproving tsk he shook his head.

"Unfortunately, that was the wrong answer."

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

Ways I can see Squid Game 3 can go in terms of story:

1) Front Man, once and for all, tries to convince Gi-hun that people are inherently bad and that the games are just reflecting human nature. Front Man says that when push comes to shove, people will turn on each other since they value self-preservation over everything else. Gi-hun then says, “So if you had to kill Jun-ho for the money, would you?” Then for the first time in years, In-ho begins to doubt his own ideology.

2) As a continuation to the point above, In-ho confronts Jun-ho again. This time, instead of shooting his brother, In-ho kills himself (which also acts as a callback to the Salesman’s death).

3) Myung-gi redemption arc. I’m 50/50 on him either surviving and promising to actually help take care of Jun-hee’s baby, or tragically sacrificing himself but not before telling the group that they need to help Jun-hee raise their baby.

4) Yong-sik and Geum-ja survive. Only saying this because we already did the fakeout of Geum-ja dying during mingle game and I’m not sure how killing off Yong-sik would benefit the story. What I mean by that is that the only characters who I’d see getting development from Yong-sik’s death is his mom and Hyun-ju. Since Hyun-ju already has to live with Young-mi’s death, the only storyline I can think of in which Yong-sik dies is for his mom’s character development, which feels exceptionally cruel since the whole point of her being in the game was to get her son out. I don’t know, it feels too cruel to the point of grimdark if Yong-sik were to die for his mom’s pain, which is why I’m leaning to him surviving.

5) I can definitely see an ending where Gi-hun manages to save the last few contestants, but loses faith in humanity. Especially if the games continue on since people still desire entertainment and you can’t destroy people’s greed/selfishness.

6) The ONLY happy ending I can see for Gi-hun is if A) In-ho realizes his ideology is flawed since he can’t bring himself to sacrifice his brother Jun-ho for wealth and power and B) the O’s finally come to their senses and switch over to the X’s. This is the only happy ending I can see for Gi-hun since even if he manages to take Front Man and the VIPs down, he saw just how cruel people can be to each other. At this point, it’s not enough to take the games down, the people have to show they’re willing to change. It’s just like the ending of Squid Game season 1 where the homeless man was helped by the bystanders, thus proving Gi-hun’s point that there’s still good in people.

[greengoblinswifey]

Fatal Attraction

pairing— The Salesman x Recruiter!Reader

summary— You and the Salesman share an undeniable attraction that’s filled with playful banter and sexual chemistry, despite the risks of being involved as recruiters for the Squid Game. It eventually boils over in a way you didn’t expect. based on this request.

warnings— sexual tension, flirting, jealousy, switch!salesman, manipulation, groping, slight voyeurism, thigh riding, praise kink.

a/n— part 2?🤭

Part II

The evening air was cloudy as the city hummed around you. Dressed in a chic black dress that hugged your figure and a pair of sleek red bottom heels, you walked through the dimly lit streets with an air of effortless confidence. Your black curls cascaded over your shoulders, catching the light as you moved, each step commanding attention. The world around you seemed to part as men turned their heads, unable to resist the allure you exuded.

You smirked, feeling the eyes on you. Most of the time, you didn’t need to say a word. They came to you. A flirtatious smile was all it took, and you knew that by the time they left, they'd be clutching the game card in their hands, their minds already made up. It was easy, really. Your beauty and charm were weapons, subtle but deadly, and you wielded them with precision. It was no wonder they hired you.

Behind you, the Salesman was watching. His gaze followed you, a mix of admiration and something else, something darker? He’d always been fascinated by you, but you knew he wouldn’t admit it. His competitive streak ran deep, and that was what made the dynamic between the two of you so—interesting. You had a way of making him lose focus, just for a moment, and he hated how much he liked it.

“Are you always this distracting?” he asked. He stepped closer, his presence almost predatory as you felt his eyes linger on you for too long.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you teased.

He narrowed his eyes, clearly annoyed but intrigued at the same time. “You're making it hard for me to concentrate,” he said.

You leaned in just enough to feel the heat between you, brushing past him sultry, making sure to brush your ass against hun. “Well,” you said, your voice a whisper, “maybe you just need to focus more.”

The way his jaw tightened gave you a little thrill. He wasn’t used to being the one distracted, but there you were, effortlessly captivating him. He hated that you had this power over him, but at the same time, it only fueled his need to be around you.

As you approached a group of lower class men, you effortlessly captured their attention, your words emphasized as you explained the game to them, each one of them hanging on your every word. They didn’t even care about the money anymore, they were entranced by you, by the way you spoke, the way you looked, the way your eyes sparkled with mystery.

You glanced over your shoulder, catching the Salesman’s narrowed eyes. There was a flicker of jealousy there, and you smiled to yourself. He was usually so composed, so in control, but when it came to you, it was clear he was a little off balance.

As you handed the last card to a willing participant, you turned back toward him, catching frustration in his eyes. “You’re still looking at my ass,” you noted. “Is there something you want to say?”

His eyes flickered to yours, something passing between you, but instead of responding immediately, he took a step closer, cornering you against a nearby wall. His lips were so close to yours that you could feel his breath on your skin, and for a moment, the world around you both seemed to fade away.

“We need to focus,” you said, your voice a mix of teasing and determination. You could feel his body heat radiating against yours, and for just a second, you almost let go. But the chemistry between you two was a game of its own, one you weren’t ready to lose yet.

His lips hovered inches from yours, but you moved away just in time, leaving him wanting more, the silent promise of what could be lingering in the air between you. You walked away, leaving him there, caught between frustration and fascination.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered, but there was a smile at his lips. He couldn’t stay mad at you for long.

“You love it,” you called over your shoulder with a wink, and he couldn’t argue with that.

The bustling subway platform crowded, filled with footsteps, idle chatter, and the occasional rumble of an approaching train. You stood poised, elegant as ever while the Salesman stood nearby, his briefcase in hand and his usual smirk in place, but even he couldn't deny that all eyes were on you.

“You’re making this too easy,” he said, his voice laced with amusement as he watched another man approach you, drawn in like a moth to a flame.

“Not my fault I have—certain advantages,” you replied, letting your hand drift over your tits for just a moment before returning to the man who had approached you.

The man stammered as you handed him a game card, your voice smooth as you explained the rules. He barely registered the words, too mesmerized by the way you leaned in just enough to catch his attention.

From the corner of your eye, you saw the Salesman watching, his expression a mixture of pride and annoyance.

“You’re going to spoil them,” he muttered under his breath as the man walked away, clutching the card like it was a love letter.

“Jealous?”

“Hardly,” he shot back, but the way his jaw tightened said otherwise.

As you moved through the station, you approached another potential recruit, a man sitting on a bench, his head in his hands. His clothes were old, his expression weary. You softened your approach, sitting beside him with a look of genuine concern.

“I couldn’t help but notice you look like you could use a fresh start,” you began, your voice gentle.

The man looked up, startled by your presence. His eyes widened as he took in your appearance, clearly caught off guard.

“It’s not easy, is it?” you continued, your tone having fake empathy. “But I can offer you something better. A chance to turn things around.”

By the time you handed him the card, the man was nodding eagerly, his despair replaced by a spark of hope.

The Salesman watched from a distance, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re a witch,” he said when you returned to his side. “The way you manipulate people—it’s almost unfair.”

“Takes one to know one,” you said smiling.

Later that evening, the two of you stood in a crowded peak, each of you scanning the crowd for potential players. He approached a group of men, his signature ddakji tiles in hand. “Care for a game?” he offered, his tone inviting.

The men glanced at him, then at you, their interest shifting immediately.

“Actually, we’d rather play with her,” one of them said, his gaze fixed on you.

You smirked, stepping closer to the Salesman and leaning in just enough to make him flinch. “Looks like you’ve got competition,” you whispered.

“Careful, or I might start charging for your services,” he retorted.

As the men prepared to play, you caught the Salesman watching you again. You met his gaze, your lips curving into a sly smile. Then, almost unknowingly, you bit your bottom lip, letting the subtle action hang heavy in the air.

His eyes darkened, his composure slipping for just a moment before you stepped away, leaving him standing there, frustrated and wanting more.

During one particularly tense recruitment, a man you’d just handed a card to glanced between you and the Salesman, frowning. “You two, you should really sort out whatever this is,” he said, gesturing between you.

Without missing a beat, you turned to him. “What you need to sort out is that broke issue you have,”you retorted, leaving him sputtering as you walked away.

“You’re ruthless,” the Salesman laughed, shaking his head.

“And you love it,” you shot back, not even bothering to deny it.

As the night wore on, the two of you found yourselves alone again, leaning against a railing overlooking the city. He leaned in, his face inches from yours, his hand brushing against your arm. For a moment, it seemed like he might close the distance, but you stepped back, breaking the spell.

“Back up,” you snapped.

He let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “One day, you’re not going to walk away,” he said.

You smiled, turning away as your curls bounced with each step. “Good luck with that,” you called over your shoulder, leaving him to brew in his frustration once again.

Another evening at the busy train station, you and the Salesman stood on opposite sides of the platform, each scanning for potential recruits. You caught his eye briefly before a man in a tattered suit approached you. He didn’t hesitate to ask your name, his interest plain.

The Salesman watched from a distance as you gave the man a coy smile, tilting your head to send the perfect signal. The man eagerly accepted the card you handed him, and even after walking away, he kept glancing back at you.

“Showing off again?” the Salesman said as he finally approached.

“Not my fault,” you said with a shrug. “They just come to me.”

“They should try not flirting with you for once,” he muttered, his jaw tightening as his gaze darted to the men still watching you.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” you laughed softly, leaning in for him to smell your perfume.

Later that night, the two of you walked back to the car after another successful round of recruitment. He was unusually quiet as you strolled under the streetlights, the faint sound of your heels breaking the silence.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked, glancing up at him.

He hesitated, then said, “I was just thinking, how do you do it?”

“Do what?”

He stopped walking and turned to face you. “Get everyone to fall at your feet like that.”

You tilted your head, a small smile on your lips. “It’s a gift. But don’t worry, you’re not immune.”

He shook his head, his smirk returning.

During one recruitment night, you and the Salesman found yourselves at a lounge. You moved effortlessly through the room, drawing attention without even trying. At the bar, a man offered to buy you a drink, and you accepted with a polite smile, leaning in to keep him hooked.

From across the room, the Salesman watched, his jaw clenching when the man leaned closer to whisper something in your ear. You laughed lightly, slipping the card into the man’s jacket pocket before walking away.

When you rejoined the Salesman, he raised an eyebrow. “Enjoy yourself?”

“Totally,” you replied, sipping the drink you had brought back with you.

“Next time, I’ll be the one buying you a drink,” He leaned in, his voice low.

You looked up at him, your lips curving into a playful smile. “If you’re lucky.”

One late night, as you were reviewing the day’s ‘victims’, a playful argument broke out between you two.

“You only got that guy at the park because I wasn’t there,” he teased, leaning against the table.

“Oh, please,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “He wouldn’t have looked at your ass twice.”

“Care to bet on that?”

You met his gaze, unfazed. “Fine. Loser buys dinner.”

“Deal.”

As he turned to leave, you called after him, “You should practice your flirting first. Wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself.”

Another evening you stood on the busy street corner, your black dress and signature heels drawing stares as usual. A potential recruit leaned lazily against a lamppost, his attitude immediately grating.

“You think I’m fucking stupid enough to fall for this?” he sneered, flicking the card you handed him back toward you. His tone was sharp, his words laced with anger.

Your smile tightened, but you didn’t break your composure. “I wouldn’t say stupid, but if the shoe fits—”

The man stepped closer, his expression darkening. “Listen, woman, don’t test me. You think your little tricks work on everyone?”

Before you could respond, the Salesman appeared at your side, his eyes narrowing as he sized up the man. Without warning, his fist connected with the man’s jaw, sending him falling backward. The man scrambled to his feet, muttering curses as he stumbled away.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s my job to make sure you’re safe,” he replied firmly, his voice softer now as his eyes stayed on yours.

For the first time, you faltered. His protectiveness caught you off guard, leaving you unsure of what to say.

He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “How about dinner?”

“Sure, what the hell.”

The restaurant was cozy and dimly lit, a bit romantic. You sat across from him, sipping your wine as laughter filled your small talk. For the first time, the banter felt easy, natural.

The waitress arrived to refill your drinks and smiled warmly at the two of you. “You two make a great couple,” she said.

You opened your mouth to correct her, but the Salesman beat you to it. “Yes, we do,” he said, his grin almost asking you to challenge him.

You shot him a look, your eyebrow arching. He just shrugged, clearly enjoying himself.

As the meal continued, you slipped off your Louis Vuittons under the table, your stocking clad foot gliding toward him. You made contact with his leg first, and when he didn’t react, you moved higher.

His fork clattered against his plate when your toes brushed against his cock. He coughed, his eyes darting to yours.

“Careful,” you said, tilting your head innocently.

“What—what are you doing?” he stammered.

“What do you mean?” you asked, as if you had no idea what he was talking about.

His jaw clenched as he tried to maintain his composure, but you could see the cracks forming. “Act normal,” you murmured softly, your foot still teasing his cock. “Wouldn’t want anyone to know what we’re doing.”

He nodded stiffly, attempting to make small talk, but his sentences came out broken and stuttered. You held back a laugh, savoring his discomfort.

By the time the meal ended, you had stopped, sitting back in your chair and putting your heels back on with a satisfied smirk as he paid the bill.

The drive back to your apartment was quiet, but the air between you was filled with more tension than usual. You placed your hand on his thigh, rubbing lightly as he gripped the steering wheel tightly.

“Why are you so tense?” you asked.

“Don’t act dumb,” he muttered, his voice strained.

You giggled, sliding your hand higher until you reached his bulge. His sharp inhale didn’t go unnoticed, and you leaned back in your seat, thoroughly enjoying yourself.

When you finally reached your apartment, he followed you inside, closing the door behind him. Before you could take another step, he spun you around and pressed you against the door, his hands braced on either side of your head.

His face was close to yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m sick of your games,” he growled. “It doesn’t matter what happens out there. In here, I’m in control.”

You bit your lip, your pulse quickening. “Yes, sir,” you murmured, your voice teasing.

That was all it took for his restraint to snap.

His lips crashed against yours. It was magnetic, a clash of sexual tension and pent up frustration. His hands framed your face as if you were going to slip away. Your arms went around his neck instinctively, drawing him closer. The world outside the apartment ceased to exist. His lips moved with a ferocity that made you forget every rule you were breaking.

Before you could even catch your breath, he lifted you effortlessly, his hands firm on your thighs as he carried you through the dimly lit apartment. His strength, his control, sent something through you. He didn’t hesitate, pushing open the door to the bedroom with his shoulder, and setting you down in his lap as he sank onto the edge of the bed.

You slowly began grinding on him, his hands moved to your waist, guiding you instinctively. “You always know how to push me, don’t you?” he murmured against your lips.

“Me? I think you’re the one who—”

He cut you off with a smirk, his grip tightening. “Ride my thigh,” he said suddenly.

Your heart beat faster. “W-what?” you stammered, caught off guard.

“You heard me,” he repeated, his dark gaze locking with yours. “Show me how much control you really have.”

Your breath hitched as his hands remained steady on your hips, guiding you forward. You hesitated, unsure if this was a line you should cross, but his touch, his words, it was consuming. Slowly, you moved on his thigh, the friction and the intimacy making your pulse quicken.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “Just like that.”

His praise sent a thrill through you, but as the moment grew more intense, the reality of the situation began to creep in. Your hips moved back and forth and your head fell back as the pleasure began to build in a way you didn’t expect. You were leaking through your thong and stockings, staining his pants. His hand moved to your jaw, tilting your face so you couldn’t avoid his gaze. “Cum on my thigh,” he whispered.

The coil in your abdomen snapped, your release hitting you like a truck, and you sagged against him, breathless and unsure how things had escalated this far. His arms wrapped around you as he steadied you, holding you close as the weight of what just happened sank in.

“W-we shouldn’t be doing this,” you whispered, breaking the silence.

“No,” he agreed, his voice low. “But I’m not stopping.”

The rules echoed in your mind, the Front Man’s orders, the consequences if you were caught. You knew you were playing with fire, but there was no denying the pull between you.

“If he finds out,” you trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

His thumb brushed against your cheek as he met your gaze. “He won’t,” he said. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The words hung in the air, a reassurance and a promise all at once. You knew it wasn’t that simple, but in his arms, you felt obligated to believe.

[melminli]

Ddakji Man

summery - you were always struggling to make ends meet, despite having three separate jobs and you doubted that that would ever change. it felt like you were working out of your own casket and it would probably be more sustainable to invest in one at this point.

pairing: (gong yoo/ji-cheol) the salesman x fem. reader

word count: 1.5k

contains: slight arguing, cursing but nothing too graphic tbh

"Are you sure that you don't want to come?" One of your friends asked you a little sadly since you were about to leave the group. They rarely got to see you anyway, did you have to leave so early? "You never come with us when we go out for a drink, we miss you there, you know?"

You smiled a little tiredly as you strolled casually through the streets. "I'm sorry guys, I just have to work tonight." you tried to explain. Besides, I'm fucking tired and just want to get some sleep before then. I miss my bed.

Your best friend pouted as she hugged you from the side and you welcomed it, even if it made walking a little more difficult. "It's always work this work that. Live a little for once, all this stress is not good for you. You need a break." she spoke up before a thought came into her mind that made her a little furious. "Don't tell me that you're using work as an excuse to cancel on us. We can do something else if you want to. I'll even invite you, come on!"

You took a tired breath. I don't have any energy for this. "Trust me, I'd love nothing more than to get drunk with you and I'm not being sarcastic or anything." you clarified. Besides, I wouldn't work this much if I didn't have to.

"All right." she gave in unhappy. "We'll catch you one of these days, I can feel it..."

You laughed softly. "Please do," you replied and stopped in front of the stairs that led to the subway. This was the place where you had to part ways with the others and you did with a few more hugs. You enjoyed spending time with them and loved your friends with all your heart, but you were still happy to be a bit on your own now.

So you plugged in your cable headphones and played your current favorite song at the loudest volume before checking when the next train was going to arrive. Another twenty minutes? The last one must have just left. You decided to just sit down on a bench and wait while staring blankly around and quietly mumbling the lyrics to yourself.

A few minutes later, a person sat down next to you and you could see out of the corner of your eye that it was probably some kind of businessman or something. You didn't look closely out of politeness and turned your gaze somewhere else after checking the time on your phone.

"Excuse me." the unknown man tried to get your attention, but as expected, you could barely hear him over the booming music. He placed his briefcase in the space between you before leaning closer to your figure and looking towards you with a smile and finally, you seemed to notice his stare and turned in his direction. You took out one of your earbuds as you met his gaze. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

The man leaned back again. "I haven't said anything yet. I wanted to ask if I could talk to you, do you have a moment?"

You looked around a little uncomfortably as he maintained uninterrupted eye contact with you. "Ehm, well..." you stumbled slightly over your words. "I'm not religious or anything, sorry," you replied, having no patience for another discourse about Jesus and the church. This is the fourth time this week, lucky me. You thought to yourself as you were about to put your earplug back in.

The salesman held a hand in the air to stop you from doing that to keep your attention. You just looked at him uninterestedly and waited, it was going to be a while before your train arrived anyway. A smile graced his face after you were willing to listen to him again. "That's not what I wanted to talk about, I just want to offer you a chance."

Your face tightened a little in disgust and you were quite irritated by now. He seemed to be waiting for some kind of answer and didn't say anything else, so you had no choice but to interpret his words. He doesn't look like that kind of guy, but I guess it's always the ones who look the most decent. "Listen to me asshole," you said openly this time, all politeness gone as you pointed at his chest with your index finger. "I don't know you, maybe you're one of those men who try to talk in riddles to seem mysterious or something, but right now it just sounds like you're looking for someone cheap to fuck." you replied as you tapped his tie with each syllable and leaned a little closer to him as you whispered. "And I'm not cheap, so you might want to look elsewhere."

This time it was you who grinned as he looked at you in surprise and he let out a small grunt after you finished your sentence. The salesman straightened his tie while watching your figure before reaching for his briefcase and revealing its contents, "That's too bad, but also not what I was talking about," he replied as you looked at the money and colored paper in confusion. "Have you ever played Ddakji?" He asked you as he took out the red and blue paper. You just shook your head. "That's no problem at all, we can still play it if you're up for it." 

Your gaze alternated from his hand to his face. Oh, so he's crazy. You finally concluded. I guess he is too handsome to be just a normal guy, huh. You turned your head away from him, something about the whole thing just seemed perverse to you. "No thanks, I'll pass."

"You sure?" He asked again, knowing he'd convinced you as soon as he brought the money into it. These people are all the same, she'll snatch the paper right out of my hands after I start talking a language she understands. "Every time you win, you get 100,000 won from me." He began, watching the look on your face. "But if I win, you owe me 100,000 won and -"

You sighed and interrupted him. "Yes, I'm sure. I still don't want to play with you, okay?"

This time the man looked at you with a cold, icy stare. A few minutes passed like this and you just tried to ignore his gaze, but then he started talking again. "All right. 200,000 won." he finally said, but couldn't seem to get your attention back. He tried again. "Is it because you've never played the game before? We can have a practice round if that would make you feel more comfortable." he tried again and got irritated when you continued to ignore him. He looked around the area as he considered his next move. Is she waiting for me to increase the prize money further? These people usually jump up happily at the first amount since they're so desperate. He tried to collect himself again. "500,000 won." he finally said. "I've got the money right here, you just have to go for it."

When is this stupid train coming. "Look, I don't want your fucking money, understand? I'm not a gambling addict or -"

"You may not want it, but you need it," he said, annoyed. This has never happened before, is she stupid? He then spoke out your name and described your miserable living situation as if you didn't already know about it yourself. "You also have quite a lot of debt for someone who is still relatively young, are you seriously going to turn down the money I'm offering you? For what, to prove a point or something?"

You didn't know what this man's fucking problem was, he should be glad that you didn't want to take his money, and how did he even know all this? You got up from your seat next to him when the train finally arrived and turned to face him one last time. "Fuck you," you told him and then went to the doors. You even looked out of the window at him as soon as they closed before you, to show him your the middle finger.

The man in the suit watched your figure irritated until it was gone and then, took the little card out of the inside pocket of his suit, that was meant for you. He turned it over a few times in his hand before closing the open briefcase with his other one. He had already played and lost a few Ddakji games in his life, which was the point of the whole thing - to recruit players for the actual game. However, the thought of what awaited them there meant that he was still in control of the situation. He was always in control of the situation. "I didn't loose, we haven't even played." he tried to reassure himself.

And yet the whole conversation with you left him feeling like he was utterly defeated.

[fear-is-truth]

THE ODDS

— THE RECRUITER x gn!reader

warnings : 18+. dead dove do not eat. gunplay. violence. death. dubcon. oral sex (m!receiving) a/n : english is not my first language

the room smells like damp concrete and despair, all condensed in roughly one hundred square feet. you’re on your knees, beside you, the girl—just as nameless to you as you probably are to her—shudders uncontrollably. her breaths are shallow and uneven, and her face is streaked with tears, her cheeks flushed from crying or panic or both.

before you stands a man, impeccably dressed in a black suit, the revolver in his gloved hand catches the yellowish light, glinting ominously. his expression is unnervingly calm—almost amused—as though this is all some kind of game.

which, of course, it is.

“five bullets,” he announces jovially, spinning the cylinder with dramatic flair. the click of the mechanism echoes in the stillness, impossibly deafening. “one empty chamber. one of you walks out. the rules are simple, no?”

you don’t move, can’t even think about moving. your focus is glued to the gun as it catches the weak overhead light. it looks heavy, like it should clatter to the floor, but he handles it effortlessly, as if it’s an extension of himself.

from the corner of your eye, you can see your unnamed companion shaking beside you. the woman lets out a small, strangled whimper. it makes his lips curl upward.

“your odds are… slim, let’s say. but i have a proposal,” with an exaggerated gesture, he holds the revolver up, his index finger poised against the chamber. “i’ll make the odds more… favourable. i’ll remove four bullets.”

both of you freeze, the words taking a moment to sink in.

“excellent.” he slides open the cylinder, plucks out four bullets, and drops them onto the floor with a metallic clatter. he snaps the revolver shut and steps closer to you.

“that leaves just one bullet,” a faint smile. “but there’s a condition. before each turn, you’ll need to show me your gratitude.”

his hand reaches out, tilting your chin upward with a gloved finger. his other hand, the other hand—still gripping the revolver—drifts downward, stopping near his belt. the implication is obscene. he tugged down his fly and stuck his thumb under the waistline of his trousers, pushing down. his cock sprang up and hit his stomach, a bead of precum glistening from the tip.

your stomach twists in revulsion as you lower your face to his crotch. swallowing back the sob welling up from your chest, you lower your lips to him.

cheeks hollowed, pausing occasionally to rove your tongue across the veiny underside before finally taking all of him, suppressing the urge to gag when his tip hit the back of your throat.

tears of pure terror and humiliation sting your vision as you pull back—count that as a blessing, being unable to see that infuriatingly calm smirk of his.

“very good,”

the barrel of the gun presses against your temple, and your body goes rigid, preparing for the inevitable.

click.

beside you, she’s sobbing, shaking her head frantically.

“no… nononono please no…”

the man in the suit sighs good-naturedly before crouching slightly so his face is level with hers. “if you forfeit, you lose the game.” each word carefully enunciated, like he’s explaining to a child. her breath stutters, but after a moment, she leans forward. her lips tremble as she parts them, shaking so violently you think she might collapse. you squeeze your eyes shut, but it doesn’t block out the sounds—her muffled gags, the choked whimpers that make bile crawl up your throat.

then comes the click. hollow. empty

she screams anyway, collapsing forward as if the relief itself has knocked her over. her body convulses, the sobs dissolving into gasping, hysterical laughter.

you should feel something for her relief—for her survival. but instead, disappointment lodges itself deep in your chest, bitter and shameful. it’s not fair, you think, even as guilt claws at you for daring to feel that way.

his gaze locks onto you once more.

“your turn.”

you shut your eyes tighter, willing yourself to be anywhere but here. your movements are robotic as you dip your head, taking him all into your mouth again. your trembling fingers comes to wrap around the base of his shaft to ensure that every inch of him was subjected to the attention you were providing, you established a steady rhythm, jerking him off with both your mouth and hand, a dull ache spreading along your jaw muscles.

as he pulls away, the barrel of the gun finds your temple again.

click.

you gasp, but the sound is drowned by her renewed sobs. the cycle begins again.

your skin feels clammy, your body on edge with every click that isn’t followed by the sound of a bullet.

the fifth round arrives, and it’s your turn again.

the cold barrel presses against your temple, and every muscle in your body locks up. your mind betrays you, conjuring grisly visions of what could come next—neurons obliterated, bone fragments exploding outward, blood vessels snapping like threads.

click.

the silence rings in your ears as glorious relief crashes over you, wild and dizzying. you made it. for the first time in what feels like hours, you think you can breathe again.

but then something changes. the relief curdles into dread. your heart sinks as the realisation strikes: you survived. you.

which means she won’t.

your gaze flickers to her, trembling beside you. she’s staring up at him, her face pale and devoid of hope, her chest rising and falling in shallow, panicked breaths. it’s then you notice it—a warmth seeping against your knee. your stomach churns as you realise she’s wet herself.

the acrid smell hits you and shame burns through you, even though it’s not yours to feel. her body is betraying her completely, and she doesn’t even seem to care. she’s too far gone, staring blankly as the revolver shifts from you to her, the barrel pressing against her temple.

the silence stretches unbearably long, but the gunshot is deafening.

her body crumples to the floor with a sickening thud. the sound is dull, but the sight is anything but. blood pools beneath her head, a dark, glistening red spreading across the concrete. clumps of hair and flecks of brain matter cling to the wall behind.

your face feels warm and wet. you don’t even blink as the realisation hits: it’s her. her blood, her flesh, clinging to your skin.

the man in the suit lowers the gun, his face lit up with a cheerful smile, as if this is all just a game—one he’s delighted to host. splatters of red streak his cheek and the edge of his collar, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he calmly buckles up his trousers.

“congratulations,” he says warmly, offering praise. he holsters the revolver with a flourish.

“you’ve won.”

the words don’t register. you’re still staring at her lifeless body, at the growing pool of crimson that seems to expand endlessly.

tears fall freely as he crouches behind you, the sweet coppery tang of blood, gunpowder and piss filling your senses. the ropes binding your wrists suddenly loosen, falling away with a soft rustle, but your hands remain limp at your sides. he stands up, towering over you, straightening his jacket.

“stand up,” his tone firm but not unkind.

your legs feel like lead, heavy and unresponsive, but somehow, you manage to rise. your knees threaten to buckle, and the world tilts precariously as you sway on unsteady feet. the man watches you with a faint smile, his hands clasped neatly behind his back.

“you’re free to go,”

you stumble toward the door, each step shaky, your body moving on autopilot while your mind lags behind, stuck in the room where everything has just fallen apart. the smell of blood and piss still clings to you, saturating the air, your skin, your soul.

as your hand grazes the exit, you pause, instinct pulling you to glance back.

but the room is empty.

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.